Great Blog Post About One Man Coming To Embrace The Traditional Mass

[Nihil Obstat]

http://cantuar.blogspot.ca/2013/01/my-initial-doubts-about-latin-mass.html
 
By Dr. Taylor Marshall.
 
His post reflects very accurately what my own experience at an FSSP Mass has been since I started attending some time ago now. I will post a couple highlights, then my quibbly little criticisms.
 

There were a number of dissatisfactions, but the breaking point happened some time in early 2010. It was the straw that broke the camel's back.
The "Grover" Moment
It was a Sunday. Novus Ordo parish. I won't identify the church. Our family went forward to receive Holy Communion. My family always tried to receive Communion from the priest, but sometimes it was impossible and you'd get rerouted to a Extraordinary Eucharistic Lay Minister. This re-routing must have happened this day. The EM to whom we were routed that day was wearing jeans and she had on an over sized blue shirt with a giant image of Grover's face.
[...]
As I returned to my pew, I thought inwardly: "This is it! I just can't take it anymore. Things have to change Lord. I'm now desperate. I don't want my children to grow up with this perception of the one true Faith." I had seen worse things than this before, but for some reason the Grover moment broke me.

 

What pushed me over the edge was the absolutely trite music music that was the standard at both parishes I regularly attended. One was the worst of the worst "church karaoke", and the other was some of the most wildly inappropriate jazzy guitar Mass settings I have ever heard. If I ever meet Ken Canedo (heaven forfend) I pray to God that I do not say something really terrible. :|
 
Then Dr. Marshall gets into the doubts he initially had about the usus antiquior and the people who attend it.
 

My wife and I have learned that "modest" does not mean homely. It takes time, style, and even money to dress modestly and attractively. Are some people dressed in burlap jumpers? Not burlap, but there are some jumpers here and there. But that's just a tiny minority. Most men and women (and children) look pretty dignified. And to be quite honest, I'd much prefer to see a whole team of burlap jumper ladies than 19 year old girls with low cut tops, short-shorts, or "jeggings." If you're Catholic in the USA, you know exactly what I'm talking about. Which would you rather have?

I have found this to be true as well. I think it is great to see men wearing collars and ties and women wearing skirts or dresses and, of course, veils. I think that dignified is a great word for it. I see lots of people who want to honour the Lord's day any way they can, and I think it is great.
 

[Initial Doubt 2:] Judgmental so that all outside their version of Catholicism are in need of "fraternal correction"

Judgmentalism is a problem for any Catholic who is serious about his faith. Whenever we try hard to enter the narrow gate, we occasionally pause and pity all the souls taking the other path. Pity often gives way to resentment, especially when they're having so much fun on the other path. Is there an inordinate amount of judgmentalism or Pharisaism in Latin Mass circles? Yes, it's certainly there. However, I don't think that Latin Masses causes judgmentalism. I think it's because the Latin Mass attracts religious people and the devil tempts the religiously minded with pride. The devil knows he's not going to tempt Mrs Latin Mass to strut around in a tight sweater and jeggings. No, he has different plans for the religious. Pride is his powerful temptation for the devout. 
 
I think that Dr. Marshall makes an extremely good point about how the devil uses different tactics to attack people at different places in their faith.
Personally I have not witnessed any particular amount of 'judgementalism' from the people who attend the TLM with me, although of course that must be taken with a grain of salt because I am quite shy and do not meet a very large number of people. The ones I have met have been extremely friendly and personable.
 

Lastly (emphasis mine):

 

Active participation is not moving your body around the sanctuary. Active participation is not serving as an altar boy, carrying cruets, reading a lesson, or being an EM. If that were the case, then every lay person in the nave would need a special job to fulfill to participate actively. This is not active participation, but it is false clericalism. It is the incorrect belief that a lay person must do something quasi-priestly for it to be meaningful and prayerful.

The Second Vatican Council did not promote active participation as clericalism. No, true active participation as promoted by the Council is modeled by the Blessed Virgin Mary. It means actively following the work of Christ on the cross with a humble and prayerful heart. Ask yourself, who was more "active" at the foot of the cross, the Roman soldiers or the Blessed Virgin Mary, Saint John, and Saint Mary Magdalene? Active participation is fulfilled by an inward disposition. This conforms to our conviction that God wants the heart more than he wants outward signs of piety.

My heart rejoices every single time somebody makes a correct point about the actual meaning of active participation. I have nothing to add here.
 
 
Now for my little quibbles with the article:
 
I wish he would more consistently say "usus antiquior" or "traditional Latin Mass" or "extraordinary form" instead of "Latin Mass", simply because too many pedants get all bent out of shape when somebody does not use what the pedant considers to be the most correct terminology. :|
 
Here is my biggest issue. He says:
"The Latin Mass is like beer. You have to drink it in a few times to like it. My challenge would be for you to attend the Latin Mass for four Sundays in a row before making a decision. Give it that long. Here's why. [...]"

 

Now, clearly Dr. Marshall is not a whisky drinker. If he were, then he would certainly compare the usus antiquior to fine Scotch whisky, which is even more excellent than good beer. And I like good beer quite a bit too, so that is a judgement I am entirely capable of making.
However, I will forgive him this minor fault. We traddies have to stick together and such. :| :|
 
 

Anyway, I will not post any more than that, but I highly recommend reading the entire article. Very concise and, IMO, very accurate.

 

[BigJon16]

 

[Initial Doubt 2:] Judgmental so that all outside their version of Catholicism are in need of "fraternal correction"

Judgmentalism is a problem for any Catholic who is serious about his faith. Whenever we try hard to enter the narrow gate, we occasionally pause and pity all the souls taking the other path. Pity often gives way to resentment, especially when they're having so much fun on the other path. Is there an inordinate amount of judgmentalism or Pharisaism in Latin Mass circles? Yes, it's certainly there. However, I don't think that Latin Masses causes judgmentalism. I think it's because the Latin Mass attracts religious people and the devil tempts the religiously minded with pride. The devil knows he's not going to tempt Mrs Latin Mass to strut around in a tight sweater and jeggings. No, he has different plans for the religious. Pride is his powerful temptation for the devout. 
 
I think that Dr. Marshall makes an extremely good point about how the devil uses different tactics to attack people at different places in their faith.
Personally I have not witnessed any particular amount of 'judgementalism' from the people who attend the TLM with me, although of course that must be taken with a grain of salt because I am quite shy and do not meet a very large number of people. The ones I have met have been extremely friendly and personable.
 

 

 

I can definitely see it from the outside sometimes. It goes both ways really. The more contemporary person sees the traditionalist as all "holier than thou" and the traditionalist sees the Novus-Ordo goer as "not holy enough."

 

I am a big fan of Novus-Ordo when it is done the way it should be, but I understand how one can be more so attracted to the EF. I have a tendency to be on the contemporary side of the judging. 

 

There is a lady that comes to my parish who is very..anti-NO, and shows up at our Sunday Masses and prayer groups and then does things as if she were at an EF Mass. She bangs a metal object on the pew three times three different times throughout the Mass, in place of what I assume she thinks should be bells. She doesn't stand at all for anything except to go receive communion, and when you try to make friends with the lady she gets all "I am a better Catholic than you, you New Age neo-Pagan Evangelical rat." 

 

Now, a normal humble person, a person like my priest would just say "she just loves the lord...a lot." But me, the cynical dude who is overflowing with a high opinion of himself says "what an annoying ultra-traddie. Render unto Rome, woman!" Okay, maybe I wouldn't exactly say that, but...I do think it sometimes. And FYI, "traddie" as used in that sentence can also be interchanged with "liberal" depending on the woman.. 

 

 

I think that for the sake of both of our souls, I will ask her if she knows about the local parish that celebrates Mass in the EF... There is one, and it isn't very far.  I'd actually love to go sometime myself, but it would be difficult to get a Sunday morning off. And I wouldn't want to go alone.. 

 

 

Cool post bro. Sorry about the tangent. :)

 

 

[eagle_eye222001]

Grover...... :lol4:

 

It's a shame such stereotypes are excessively promoted.  My bottom line is that as long as the Mass is celebrated properly... then what else really matters?

 

 

 

My opinion is that there are certain truths connected to the seven stereotypes. I'm not saying that the stereotypes are entirely false, but they are greatly over-exaggerated.

 

I agree.  

[Era Might]

I dislike Western church music in general, even of the Latin Mass variety. I prefer chant.

[Lil Red]

 
Grover...... :lol4:
 
It's a shame such stereotypes are excessively promoted.  My bottom line is that as long as the Mass is celebrated properly... then what else really matters?
 
 

My opinion is that there are certain truths connected to the seven stereotypes. I'm not saying that the stereotypes are entirely false, but they are greatly over-exaggerated.

 
 

I agree.  

 
yes and ditto.

[Nihil Obstat]

I dislike Western church music in general, even of the Latin Mass variety. I prefer chant.

 

Pretty much. It has to be chant. When all the chant is in place, then and only then can we talk about a respectable hymn.

[Tantum Ergo]

The reason the author gives for "switching" from the ordinary form to the extraordinary form is a very common one. It's the reason I hear most often from Latin-mass goers as to why they go to the extraordinary form (namely, they couldn't stand the local ordinary form parish, due to the music/noise/irreverence/bad dress/rowdy children). Whenever I hear that I want to show them this quotation from a letter by J.R.R Tolkien to a friend who was struggling with sagging faith. As a friend of mine said, "Tolkien's advice could also apply to liturgical abuses (though Tolkien was no modernist. Following the implementation of the vernacular in the Mass, Tolkien continued to respond loudly in Latin). I do not believe we should do nothing, but by also doing this, we will give Satan a sucker punch to the face." Here is Tolkien's advice: 

 

"The only cure for sagging or fainting faith is Communion. Though always Itself, perfect and complete and inviolate, the Blessed Sacrament does not operate completely and once for all in any of us. Like the act of Faith it must be continuous and grow by exercise. Frequency is of the highest effect. Seven times a week is more nourishing than seven times at intervals. Also I can recommend this as an exercise (alas! only too easy to find opportunity for): make your communion in circumstances that affront your taste. Choose a snuffling or gabbling priest or a proud and vulgar friar; and a church full of the usual bourgeois crowd, ill-behaved children – from those who yell to those products of Catholic schools who the moment the tabernacle is opened sit back and yawn – open necked and dirty youths, women in trousers and often with hair both unkempt and uncovered. Go to Communion with them (and pray for them). It will be just the same (or better than that) as a Mass said beautifully by a visibly holy man, and shared by a few devout and decorous people. (It could not be worse than the mess of the feeding of the Five Thousand – after which [Our] Lord propounded the feeding that was to come)."

 

This exercise is a great practice of humility. It should remind us that all those things that annoy us - rowdy children, bad dress, poor music - are a matter of our own taste, and it does not affect the power of the Blessed Sacrament. I myself am in need of God's grace just as much, perhaps even more so, than those who may seem to lack the "proper" dress or reverence. Most likely, what they do is simply because of lack of education, and probably through no fault of their own. What's worse, a lack of education or a prideful soul? 

 

Of course, even if one struggles with pride it doesn't necessarily mean he should not attend the extraordinary form and force himself to always go to the ordinary form. It is simply good to remember that sinners go to both forms of the Mass. Do not let attendance at one form or another become a source of pride. Do not let it become a thing of one "side" versus another - like, "I'm Tridentine" or "I go to the ordinary form." St. Paul wrote: "I urge you, brothers, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, that all of you agree in what you say, and that there be no divisions among you, but that you be united in the same mind and in the same purpose. For it has been reported to me about you, my brothers, by Chloe’s people, that there are rivalries among you. I mean that each of you is saying, “I belong to Paul,” or “I belong to Apollos,” or “I belong to Cephas,” or “I belong to Christ.” Is Christ divided? Was Paul crucified for you? Or were you baptized in the name of Paul?" (1 Corinthians 1:10-13).

 

Judgmentalism definitely goes both ways. There are many times I've felt I've needed to explain myself when I say I attend the FSSP parish. Some people seem to assume it automatically makes me a "bishop-basher," a radical, a hater of the ordinary form, or they think I'm some kind of Catholic dissident. And then traditional Catholics get bent out of shape when they talk about the ordinary form, and list hordes of abuses (which I think are over-estimated), and even go so far as to imply such abuses stem from the new form of the Mass itself. Satan is clever and will use things surrounding something holy and good, like the Mass, to divide us. We have to be really careful when discussing these things not to fall into that trap. This division really saddens me personally. It divides communities, parishes, even families. We need to keep praying for Christian unity, even within our own Church.

[Nihil Obstat]

Frankly, I think the argument about the renovated propers is an even stronger reason to prefer the usus antiquior to the novus ordo. :proud:

 

[Groo the Wanderer]

liturgical snob

 

 

 

 

we should go back to the original greek,....

[Nihil Obstat]

liturgical snob

 

 

 

 

we should go back to the original greek,....

 

Liturgical archaeologist. :|

[Groo the Wanderer]

and communion placed in the right palm, followed by a profound bow, then the Sacred Host retrieved by the tongue only (no fingers or teeth), and finally licking the palm clean to retrive all the fragments.

 

 

 

St. Cyril FTW!!

[Nihil Obstat]

I hereby re-administer my above slam.

[Gabriela]

The first time I went to a Tridentine Mass, I was very put out. I vowed never to go again. But it bothered me terribly that I disliked it so, because I am a staunch traditionalist in every other way. After discussing the matter with a spiritual advisor, I went back again. And now I go every chance I get.

 

I wrote a long, long entry in my journal about the confusion and distaste I felt for the first Tridentine Mass I attended. I'd post that here, but it doesn't make sense to, I think, given that I've never written out how I came to love and prefer the Tridentine Mass. That took place more gradually.

 

I do still love a good Novus Ordo Mass. Most of them, however, just frustrate me. For the usual reasons. I am in a place where we have only the frustrating Novus Ordo Masses, though, so I am very grateful for the Tolkien quote that provides me a new way to look at the experience when I go.

 

Thank you!

[Nihil Obstat]

The first time I went to a Tridentine Mass, I was very put out. I vowed never to go again. But it bothered me terribly that I disliked it so, because I am a staunch traditionalist in every other way. After discussing the matter with a spiritual advisor, I went back again. And now I go every chance I get.

 

I wrote a long, long entry in my journal about the confusion and distaste I felt for the first Tridentine Mass I attended. I'd post that here, but it doesn't make sense to, I think, given that I've never written out how I came to love and prefer the Tridentine Mass. That took place more gradually.

 

I do still love a good Novus Ordo Mass. Most of them, however, just frustrate me. For the usual reasons. I am in a place where we have only the frustrating Novus Ordo Masses, though, so I am very grateful for the Tolkien quote that provides me a new way to look at the experience when I go.

 

Thank you!

If you were to broadly generalize your initial issues with the traditional Mass, say in a list format, what might that list look like?

[Gabriela]

If you were to broadly generalize your initial issues with the traditional Mass, say in a list format, what might that list look like?

 

Uhh... That's kinda' hard to answer in a way that accurately reflects the way I felt. I looked back at my journal to see if I could make a list. I don't think I really can. So, here are the journal entries:

 

 

23 december 2011

i went to Latin Mass in the Extraordinary Form this morning. it was indeed extraordinary. i understand the Protestant Reformation much better now.

 

when i walked in, a priest was standing and two monks were kneeling at the front of the church, chanting by candlelight. the sun hadn’t come up yet. it was very dark. there was one young man kneeling and looking very solemn in the pews. i forgot to genuflect as i entered the pew. the chanting was nice. i dont know why they were chanting or when they started. i guess it was in preparation for the Mass.

 

after about five minutes, they stopped chanting and stood up. one monk went to the back of the church and did something i didn’t see. the other monk put out the candles and went to my right to turn on a few lights. to my left, the priest changed into priestly garments for the Mass. another, older man walked in and knelt in a pew in front of me, for which i was thankful, because i had quickly realized that, having taken my seat fairly close to the altar, several pews in front of the young guy, there were no laypeople in front of me that i could see to imitate, and i wasnt sure if i was supposed to imitate the monks. the priest and monks gathered again at the front of the church. the priest turned to us and made an announcement in English saying that there would be no prayer this evening at 7 pm, but a showing of Charles Dickens’ Christmas Carol. he didnt crack a smile.

 

he turned his back to us to face the altar and began saying stuff in Latin. i followed along well enough for about 5 minutes. we knelt the entire time. then the priest seemed to skip some stuff, but i found him again. we were still kneeling. the priest was saying stuff in Latin and the monks were responding. i couldnt hear the guy in front of me responding, so i figured we werent supposed to respond. but i did see the old guy crossing himself now and then, so i found where that was indicated in the booklet and began to do that too. then i understood “Evangelium” and “Markus” and one of the monks read a biblical passage in English, completely without feeling, and sounding rather tired and malnourished. then the priest said more Latin, in which I understood only “Evangelium”, and the same monk read another passage in English the same way. i could hardly hear him, so i dont remember which passages they were, but obviously they were from the Gospels.

 

then the priest started to skip a lot of stuff in the booklet. i started flipping the pages a lot to try to find him. about halfway through the Mass, i figured out that he says about a third of the Mass silently, to himself, facing the altar. we stood up a couple times (I have no idea for what), but quickly knelt again. i started reading the margins of the booklet and realized that i could follow where the priest was by watching his movements. i started trying to read in the English translation of what he should have been saying to himself in Latin. he was faster than me, though, and i was distracted anyway, as i was trying to pay attention to what was—or wasn’t—going on in front of me rather than to what was being said. still, i managed to follow more or less. (thank God for all my language training.) the booklet said something about him putting his thumb and fingers together and keeping them there until some further point in the Mass. i couldnt see this, of course, because he had his back to us. the monks were mostly kneeling behind him, but now and then one of them would get up and walk around for some reason, genuflecting in front of the altar. the walking monk knelt behind the priest at one point and lifted the priest’s cloak twice—quite the way a boy tries to peek under a girl’s dress—i think at the transubstantiation of both the bread and the wine. the same monk rang the bell a lot—more than twice, which i found confusing. 

 

then the priest turned around and held up a tiny little round, almost transparent wafer, about one inch in diameter, and said in Latin, “This is our God,” or something like that, and i thought, “that’s my God?” it was ridiculous, really. in hindsight, i suppose i should have been envisioning the pieta or something, imagining the priest holding the body of Christ like Mary in all those sculptures, but a one-inch wafer doesn’t exactly recall artistic masterpieces. then the old guy in front of me went up to the front pew, and i read in the booklet that people taking communion should move to the communion row. i didnt go. no one seemed to wonder about it. the young guy behind me didnt go either. the priest and monks returned to their usual positions, the priest with his back to us, said some more stuff to himself, said some other stuff out loud (of which i only made out the word “omnibus” multiple times, which i found rather funny, given its German meaning), to which the monks and i think the guy in front of me responded with one or two words, and then was quiet some more. we stood, knelt, stood again, knelt again. my knees started to creak, and i began to think that this is why there were so many cripples in Medieval times.

 

suddenly the priest started putting the dishes away, and i realized it was over. the priest turned around and said something like, “Go. The Mass is ended.” but then he must have said silently to himself, “Psych!” (only without the exclamation mark, which would have indicated emotion), because then he turned around again and said some more stuff, to which the monks (and the old guy, i think, but im not sure) responded, and then the priest stepped back from the altar, still with his back to us. then the three of them—and maybe the old guy, too, i couldnt tell—chanted a song that i couldnt find in the booklet so i have no idea what it said. 

 

then it really seemed to be over, because the priest walked to the back of the church, with us still kneeling, and one monk disappeared while the other did some stuff i couldnt see at the altar. the old guy was still kneeling, so i wasnt sure if it was really over this time, because chanting had started before 7 am, which was the Mass time, and the priest had said “Go. The Mass is ended,” but then stuck around to chant. but then i saw the monk at the altar folding up the altar linens, so i figured it must really be over, so i got up to leave. i forgot to genuflect pewside again, which i only realized when i passed the young guy who had been behind me and was still kneeling and looking very saintly. i thought he must think im a real heathen.

 

there was no singing beyond the one song they chanted. the priest said the Mass as if he were at a funeral. only less inspiring. it sounded like death and seriousness. i know “sombre” is the right word, but “sombre” doesnt really describe it. there was no joy. no life. no community. it was a ritual completely without feeling, except maybe for duty—and seriousness. a Litvak shul has a thousand times more passion than this.

 

if i had been an illiterate Medieval wench living a miserable existence, i would not have believed for a second that the God in that sickly-looking one-inch wafer loved me unconditionally. if i had had to go to a cold, drafty cathedral to kneel for an hour on a bumpy stone floor in the middle of a horribly stinking, gout-ridden, plague-infested, flea-bitten crowd of peasants, i would have become a pagan and danced naked out in the hills by a fire at night. if i had had to pay for that feelingless priest to turn his back to me and mumble silently to himself in a language i could neither hear, nor understand even if i could have heard it, i would have thought that Martin Luther was my savior. if the only religion available to me were one that completely ignored my religious needs, my religious experience, my religious participation, i would be an atheist.

 

of course, i am a selfishly independent American, and the Mass is supposed to be about Christ. about Christ—but for Christ? i dont think so. its for us. so thank God for the Protestant Reformation, not because it threw out whole books of the Bible, or did away with confession, or eliminated all religious orders and many people’s callings along with them, or caused thousands of divisions in the Church, or gave birth to some seriously crazy people—but because it finally forced the Church to acknowledge its responsibility to the people. late, but at last. She is slow to change, and im glad for that. but im also very glad to have been born after Vatican II. because otherwise, id be a pagan, a Lutheran, or an atheist.

 

in fairness, i can imagine some days or even whole periods in my life in which i might prefer the MEF, like when ive had such a bad day that im hating humanity and dont want to have to talk to anyone, or when im paralyzed with depression. i should think, though, that the interactivity of the Latin Mass in the Ordinary Form serves to restore your love of humanity and to pull you out of depression. i suppose if you know whats going on and just want to go meditate in silence for an hour, the MEF is good for that, too. i dont think the guy behind me stood up even once. but i think thats about all its good for. at least for me.

 

 

29 december 2011

i went again to the MEF today, after Father Oppenheimer (aka “Dom Daniel Augustine”) emailed a long explanation about how last Friday was “deep into Advent”, and so a penitential Mass, not a High Mass. he said that today everything would be sung and so much more joyful. everything was indeed sung. i dont know that it was much more joyful.

 

…. [personal conversation with a brother about his vocation; as an aside, this is the conversation that led to my writing a thesis on calling :-)]

 

i wish that i could talk to monks and priests without appearing to pry or get too personal. i also worry theyre taking it as some kind of a Catholic come-on. i just want to know how they live, how they feel, what their troubles and their joys are. this 30-year-old—who looked more like 24—chanted the entire Mass by himself. i sat there (yes, this time we sat a lot more; i guess kneeling is for penance—it certainly felt that way) wondering if he felt nervous, on display, important, bored, or…? i want to be able to ask them these things without offending them. i dont know if that will ever be possible. i need some nuns…

 

afterwards i went to the new Mass at St. James….

 

[[END JOURNAL ENTRIES]]

 

I think that the real turn for me (toward loving the MEF) started when I returned to my home parish and saw the contrast. I suddenly totally saw the point of all the silence in the MEF, could NOT STAND that there is a "Communion song" at my parish (for crying out loud, let me pray in silence, at least during Communion!)—that kind of thing. It wasn't until August 2012 that I made it back to the MEF with the CRNJ. When I did go again, I was so relieved to be there. :-)