Lent Fight Update!

Ash_wednesday In the years I have been maintaining this blog, I have uploaded something over 4700 posts (according to current statistics). This makes it a bit hard to remember everything I've put up.

Fortunately, I have the memories of readers to remind me, and one reader in particular has reminded me that there are some posts that I had forgotten to include in the Annual Lent Fight that I uploaded yesterday. 

These posts concern, in particular, the Church's laws concerning Ash Wednesday and its laws regarding fasting.

As a result, I've done some link updating.

Since Ash Wednesday is a day of both fast and abstinence, I have chosen to repeat here the relevant links, along with this introductory note citing the main differences.

I hope this helps, and I wish all a tranquil and spiritually productive season of Lent.

GENERAL

DURATION

PENANCE IN GENERAL

FASTING

ABSTINENCE

ASH WEDNESDAY

HOLY THURSDAY

GOOD FRIDAY

FRIDAY PENANCE OUTSIDE OF LENT

What do you think?

 

Liturgical Pet Peeve #78: Changing the Prayer of the Faithful Response

DancinFeetJust today I was reviewing a proofread version of my forthcoming book Mass Revision: Your Essential Guide to the Changes in the Liturgy, which is scheduled to come out in just a few months. It seemed like an opportune time to do a post about liturgy, so here goes . . .

There’s a passage in C. S. Lewis somewhere in which he talks about liturgy being like dancing. As a dancer, dance instructor, and dance caller (I call square dances, contra dances, etc.) I recognize just how apt the comparison he makes is. What he says is that learning the liturgy is like learning to dance. At first you are focused on the mechanics and trying to get them right. When you’re new to the liturgy it’s rather like dancing and having to think about what your feet are doing. The result is clumsy and not particularly pleasant. But there comes a point when the mechanics of the dance becomes second nature and you don’t have to think about it, you can just do it. This is the point at which the dance becomes smooth, flowing, and enjoyable. You have been freed from having to think about the mechanics of individual moves so that you can grasp the overall flow and pattern of the dance.

The same thing happens when learning liturgy. If you’re a convert, as I am, or if you’re old enough to have clear memories of the liturgical reform that followed Vatican II, then there’s a stage in your life where you had to make a conscious effort to learn the liturgy. You didn’t just grow up with it. At first it was a awkward, clumsy process (“Is this the part where we stand up?”, “What’s the next word in the Creed?”, “Am I supposed to say ‘Thanks be to God’ or ‘Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ’ now?”). But eventually it became second nature and, as in the dancing example, you were freed from the burden of having to think about the mechanics of individual actions and your mind could rise to contemplate the overall flow and pattern of the liturgy, the meaning of the symbols it contains, and the theological truths it expresses.

Even if you’re not a convert or someone who clearly remembers the liturgical reform, you’ll be getting something of that experience come this November, when the new translation of the Roman Missal goes into effect and—although the fundamental structure of the Mass will be the same—lots of individual prayers will be . . . different. And there’ll be a period of time where you have to think about the mechanics of the liturgy (“Am I supposed to say ‘And also with you’ or ‘And with your spirit’?”, “Oops! I almost said ‘Was born of the Virgin Mary’ instead of ‘Was incarnate of the Virgin Mary’!”, “Wow, you mean we’re supposed to stand after the priest finishes this invitation, not before it, like we’ve been doing the last ten years?”). But soon this phase will pass and you’ll be able to think about higher matters, like how the liturgy more profoundly expresses certain truths not that it’s not encumbered with a dumbed-down, 1970s translation.

Or whatever else you choose to think about at Mass.

The point I’m making is that changing the expressions people are used to will jerk them out of a contemplative mode and land them smack in the middle of a mechanical thought process—at least until the change becomes second nature. For this reason, you shouldn’t make changes lightly.

All the liturgical loosey-gooseyness of the last 40 years has had the effect of jerking the faithful out of a contemplative mode and putting them in other modes of thought (confusion, bewilderment, suspicion, rage).

I understand and appreciate the need for the new translation of the Mass, but it will be an adjustment. It will take some getting used to.

But one shouldn’t make arbitrary changes for no good reason, even when they are permitted by liturgical law.

A good example is the response used in the prayer of the faithful. In the United States the response is commonly “Lord, hear our prayer” (although some seem to mishear it as “Lord, hear our prayers”; a minor liturgical mondegreen).

This response is not mandated by liturgical law, and so it can be changed. That makes changing it not a liturgical abuse in the proper sense (a violation of liturgical law), but just because it can be changed doesn’t mean it should be changed. Changing it can result in the faithful being jerked out of their usual, prayerful mode of thought and into an awkward state where they have to think about the new response and even wondering whether it fits with the things being prayed for. This results in Bad Liturgy.

Take, for example, the practice of one of the local parishes near me. During certain liturgical seasons and on certain liturgical days they alter “Lord, hear our prayer” to something else.

For example, last Sunday (baptism of the Lord), they were using “Lord, send us your Spirit.” You might think that would be more appropriate for Pentecost, but because the Holy Spirit descended on Jesus at his baptism, they were using it there.

And since the action of the Holy Spirit is involved in every answered prayer, asking God to send the Holy Spirit is something that can be an appropriate response to any legitimate prayer intention.

But “Lord, send us your Spirit” is not the familiar response and it snatches the contemplative, prayerful mindset away and forces the congregation to think about the mechanics of what they’ve just been told to say.

Worse is what they were using on Epiphany, when the response they said to use was “O come let us adore him.”

Not only is response unfamiliar, it’s also a line from a well-known song (meaning that people are going to be thinking about the song), and it’s just too cutsey by half.

Worst of all, it is not a suitable response to all possible petitions. For example:

Lector: That God may guide our president as he makes decisions affecting the welfare of our nation.

People: O come let us adore him.

Now, that specific petition wasn’t one the parish used, but I’ve heard similarly problematic petitions used with “O come let us adore him” in the past.

Like I said, I can’t say that it’s a liturgical abuse in the technical sense to do this, but I can say that it’s Bad Liturgy, and thus it’s one of my liturgical pet peeves.

What are some of yours?

Okay, Liturgical Rant Time

This Sunday when I went to Mass there was a guest priest, someone I’d never seen before. As soon as I head him speak, I knew there was going to be trouble. While everyone as saying the Gloria, this is what the priest said:

Glory to God in the highest
And peace to

his

God’s people on earth.

“Oh, great,” I thought. “We’re already off to a bad start.”

Things went downhill from there.

Not only did Fr. Gender Edit tamper with the Gloria, he also was seemingly unaware of the existence of the subjunctive mood in English. Thus whenever the text called for him to say, “The Lord be with you,” he would instead say, “The Lord is with you.”

This is wrong for so many reasons. While it is true that the Lord is always with us in one sense—actually, in several senses—it is also true that the Lord is not with us in other senses and that there are senses in which he is sometimes with us and sometimes not. For example, he’s not always with us the way he is in the Eucharist. Christ’s Real Presence disappears once the appearances of bread and wine cease.

There are also senses in which the Lord can choose to be with us or choose not to be—for example, he is certainly with us in a particular way when we are doing his will but not when we are sinning.

Priests who chuck the subjunctive “The Lord be with you” in favor of the indicative “The Lord is with you” are presumably wanting to assure the flock of God’s presence, but what they’re actually doing is falsifying the liturgy, not just by tampering with the approved text but also by speaking presumptuously on behalf of God. It is precisely those senses in which God can choose to be with us (or not) that the Church intends in this greeting. That’s why the Church uses the subjunctive mood here—which is used in this case to express a wish or desire. By offering this greeting, the priest is asking God to bless us. He’s praying for us in the greeting.

By using the indicative mood—which is used to express actual states of affairs—the priest is not praying for us but announcing a result, which means either that he is speaking of one of those senses in which God is always with us (changing and flattening the meaning of the greeting) or he is presuming upon God’s free choice. Either way, it’s bad.

It’s also bad because we are supposed (for the next year and a bit) to respond by saying, “And also with you.” (Come Advent 2011, though, it’ll be the more literal, “And with your spirit.”)

This means that the priest is not only altering the meaning of what he’s saying, he’s also forcing a shift in meaning on what we say. The meaning of our response is conditioned by his greeting, and so to say, “And also with you” would mean “And the Lord is also with you.”

In other words, he’s forcing upon us his own modification of meaning and expecting us to make it our own via the reply.

A friend of mine pointedly refuses to give the response when a priest does this, and frankly, I do too. I just keep my mouth shut. The priest may have the power to deform the liturgy at this point, but that doesn’t mean I have to vocally affirm him in doing so.

Fr. Gender Edit’s defiant refusals to say what the Missal says for him to say, though, were peccadillos compared to what he did in the homily.

You may recall that the Gospel for the day was Luke 13:22-30, wherein our Lord is asked the question of whether those who are saved will be few and he replies,

“Strive to enter through the narrow gate,
for many, I tell you, will attempt to enter
but will not be strong enough.
After the master of the house has arisen and locked the door,
then will you stand outside knocking and saying,
‘Lord, open the door for us.’
He will say to you in reply,
‘I do not know where you are from.
And you will say,
‘We ate and drank in your company and you taught in our streets.’
Then he will say to you,
‘I do not know where you are from.
Depart from me, all you evildoers!’
And there will be wailing and grinding of teeth
when you see Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob
and all the prophets in the kingdom of God
and you yourselves cast out.
And people will come from the east and the west
and from the north and the south
and will recline at table in the kingdom of God.
For behold, some are last who will be first,
and some are first who will be last.”

So. . . . Salutary warning about the possibility of damnation, right? Not in Fr. Gender Edit’s hands! He got up and completely un-preached this passage. He started by talking about how the question raises Jesus’ “nightmare scenario” (Fr. Edit’s words)—the idea that even one soul might not be saved, and which he came to earth in order to prevent. The question thus revealed the anxiety of the one who asked it, but Jesus reassured him.

No comment whatsoever on the “many, I tell you, will attempt to enter but will not be strong enough” or “I do not know where you are from. Depart from me, all you evildoers!” Following Ludwig Wittgenstein, that which he could not speak of, Fr. Gender Edit passed over in silence.

Which raises the question: Why did he feel the need to subvert the Gospel reading of the day in this way? It wasn’t just a question of soft-peddling its message. It was completely reversing what the text was emphasizing.

So not only did Fr. Edit feel free to tamper with the prayers of the Mass, he also felt free to counter the text of sacred Scripture.

Why?

I hate to say it, but when a priest does this—especially with the possibility of damnation—one can’t help but wonder if there is a psychological dynamic of bad conscience at work. One can’t help but wondering if he has some moral fault—perhaps one of the various kinds of priestly moral faults that have so often appeared in the press in recent years—that makes it unendurable for him to acknowledge the possibility of damnation.

However that may be, it’s just a sad situation.

And it was made sadder when, as the Communion hymn, they did “I Am the Bread of Life”—a modern composition that has been systematically stripped of any and all gender references, despite the fact that it is based on John 6, where such references are used.

I tell you, the better you know Scripture, the more awful that song is, because it just grates on the nerves hearing the word of God systematically neutered, one line after another, in the service of a socio-political agenda. (And that’s even if you can get past singing line after line in the voice of Jesus.)

This song—especially its gender edited version—is another which I just keep my mouth shut for.

I’m sure that, as a visiting priest, Fr. Gender Edit had nothing to do with the selection of that song, but it was ironic and depressing that they picked for that particular Mass.

What I wonder, though, is what Fr. Gender Edit and his ilk will do come Advent 2011, when the new translation of the Roman Missal will go into effect (it has now been announced).

Over the last decade plus, the Holy See has been using a step-by-step approach to improve the quality of the liturgy, and it has been bearing fruit. Things aren’t as bad now as they were fifteen years ago. Not hardly.

But the new translation of the Mass will be a particularly big step, and I wonder what dissidents like Fr. Gender Edit will do when it gets here.

What are your thoughts?

Translation Questions

A reader writes:

I have this nagging question regarding the revision of the English translation of the Roman Missal. After reading the following: http://www.catholicculture.org/commentary/blog.cfm?id=424, I was curious whether this new translation could eventually lead to either the use of, or the creation of, a biblical translation at Mass other than the NAB. 

This is just speculation, but my sense is that this is not likely to happen soon–unless the Holy See decides to mandate it, which doesn't strike me as that likely in the near future.

The reasons are twofold:

1) What translation of Scripture is used at Mass is normally left up to the local conference of bishops. You don't have to get the approval of a whole group of bishops' conferences (e.g., those of all the English speaking nations) to get approval for a Scripture translation for the Mass. 

That's why there are different lectionaries in use in different English-speaking countries. Here in the U.S. we use one that is generally based on the New American Bible, but they don't use such a one in England.

For there to be a new translation here in America, without a Vatican mandate, the American bishops would have to mandate one themselves, which leads to the second contributing reason I suspect there won't be one soon . . . 

2) The retranslation of the Roman Missal is a hugely contentious undertaking and after it's done both sides are likely to want a period of liturgical peace. The attitude will be, "Well, that was very unpleasant. Let's not do anything like that again for some time."

Fundamentally re-doing the lectionary would be just such an undesirable task. Oh, sure, they might tinker with it. But to do a major revision would open too many wounds.

I suspect that the Holy See is unlikely to mandate a new lectionary in America for similar reasons–though you never know.

Also, could any of this lead to a similar reworking of the Liturgy of the Hours? 

I see this as more likely. After completing the retranslation of the Sacramentary, it would be logical for the Holy See to say, "Now let's fix the translations of the other rites," including the Liturgy of the Hours.

I read somewhere that there was movement afoot to gain acceptance of the RSV-CE 2nd Edition in the liturgy, is that true? Is it feasible?

I am aware of some movement in this regard, and it could happen, though I'm somewhat skeptical of its chances in the short run.


The best one could hope for along these lines would be permission to use the RSV:CE in addition to the NAB lectionary at Mass. A replacement of the NAB with the RSV:CE would be seen as too direct a repudiation of the bishops' work since the NAB translation was produced at their behest and under their authority.


And I think the odds of getting even permission to use the RSV in addition to the NAB is not great.


It took long enough for the U.S. bishops to get everyone on the same lectionary page. They're likely to want to leave that page unturned for a while.


So, while things can always change, I suspect that we're stuck with our current lectionary translation for a while.

BTW, the link the reader provides is a good one. READ THE WHOLE THING.

Sign of Peace Update

I know I said I'd do some reader question next, and I will be doing those shortly, but I ran across something in the CDW Newsletter that I thought I'd pass on while I was thinking about it.

Remember back in 2005 when Pope Benedict presided over the Synod of Bishops that was addressing the Eucharist?

Good.

Well, the post-synodal apostolic exhortation document that came out after that was widely anticipated, particularly because of Pope Benedict's known interest in the liturgy and improving it and . . . the document was largely a let-down. It took forever to come out (even Benedict complained publicly about how long it was taking the people doing the prep work to get it done), and when it came out there was very little that was new or noteworthy in it.

One thing that was noteworthy was relegated almost to a footnote (in fact, if memory serves, it may actually have taken the form of a footnote).

That was the announcement that the question of where the Sign of Peace is located in the Mass had been forwarded to the Congregation for Divine Worship and the Discipline of the Sacraments. (Actually, I think it referred to the appropriate dicasteries, but the CDWDS would be the key one.)

The idea, which Benedict himself wrote in support of when he was still Pre-16, is that the Sign of Peace isn't optimally placed in the Mass, coming as it does right before Communion. Placed there, it can be disruptive (especially when priests go romping all over creation to hug people and slap them on the backs, though this seems to have abated some in recent years) and takes the focus off of the Eucharist just when we're about to receive.

So the proposal has been floated to move the Sign of Peace earlier in the Mass, after the Prayer of the Faithful.

That would be a good move, to my mind.

And the move wouldn't disturb anything fundamental to the structure of the liturgy. In fact, there was no individual exchange of peace prior to the liturgical reform that followed Vatican II. It was added (as an option, I might mention) to the Latin liturgy based on parallel (but not identical and, in my mind, superior) practices in some of the Eastern Churches.

But it turned into a big, distracting celebration of "us"-ness.

Anyway, it's been going on four years now and I've heard nothing about the proposal to move the Sign of Peace.

Until now.

I was just reading the newsletter of the U.S. Bishops' Committee for Divine Worship (formerly the Bishops' Committee on Liturgy) and ran across this item:

Survey of the Sign of Peace at Mass

The Committee [for Divine Worship] reviewed the findings of a survey requested of the USCCB by the Congregation for Divine Worship and the Disicpline of the Sacraments regarding the placement of the Sign of Peace at Mass. Of the 89 Bishops who responded, 66% supported moving the Sign of Peace after the Prayer of the Faithful and before the Presentation of the Gifts, 32% recommended retaining the Sign of Peace at its current location before the Agnus Dei, and 2% offered alternative opinions. A report from the USCCB was submitted to the Congregation's then-Prefect, Francis Cardinal Arinze.

Cool. Good to hear that there is some motion on this and that the bishops seem to be responding favorably.

Arriving Late & Communion

Fr. Edward McNamara, LC, regularly answers liturgical questions for the Zenit news service. Unfortunately, his answer this week is seriously flawed.

Here’s the question as it was posed to him:

Q: My parish priest made a regulation that anyone who arrives in Mass after the Gospel is not allowed to take Communion. According to him, the reason is that Jesus is "the Word made flesh." Therefore we must recognize Jesus in the Word before we recognize him in holy Communion. Another priest, who is a professor of liturgy, has another opinion. He said that people who arrive late in Mass with a valid reason (for example, an unusual traffic jam, attending sick children, etc.) should not be denied Communion. Could you please give a clarification on this matter? — B.E., Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia

His answer begins as follows:

A: We dealt with the question of late arrivals at Mass in one of our first columns, on Nov. 4 and Nov. 18, in 2003.

Then as now, I would agree more with the second priest: that someone who arrives late out of no fault of their own should not be denied Communion.

His answer goes wrong right there–not in stating that the person should not be denied Communion but by introducing the condition that the person was late through no fault of their own. The remainder of his column is seriously flawed as a result of this flawed point of departure.

READ THE WHOLE THING.

Fr. McNamara’s thought on this point appears to go wrong because he conflates two separate issues: (1) what is required to fulfill one’s Sunday obligation and (2) what is required to receive Communion.

Fr. McNamara rightly points out that one is obliged to attend the whole of a Sunday Mass unless one has a valid excuse for missing all or part of it (e.g., arriving late through no fault of one’s own, needing to leave early because you’re in serious back pain, etc.). He also counsels against drawing arbitrary lines in the Mass about what’s "okay" to miss, which is prudent given the current state of liturgical law on this point. If, for whatever reason, you have missed the substance of the Mass without a legitimate excuse and you can attend another one then you should do so. All that’s fine.

But it has nothing to do with the question of whether you can receive Communion if you show up late.

The controlling legal document governing who can receive Communion and when is the Code of Canon Law. It provides the following:

Can.  843 §1. Sacred ministers cannot deny the sacraments to those who seek them at appropriate times, are properly disposed, and are not prohibited by law from receiving them.

This provision lists three criteria that, if they are fulfilled, prevent the sacred ministers from denying the sacraments–including Holy Communion–to the faithful.

The first condition is that the faithful "seek them at appropriate times." This is to prevent the faithful from seeking the sacraments at bizarre times without a sufficient reason. For example, the faithful do not have a right to demand the sacraments at any time of the day or night, irrespective of what the priest is doing, unless they have a counterbalancing reason. You cannot, for example, demand that a priest hear your confession right this minute if it’s 3 a.m. in the morning and he’s asleep and you’re not in danger of dying or about to ship out to Afghanistan and won’t have the opportunity of confession for months, for example.

But receiving Communion during Mass–when Communion is already being offered–is plainly an appropriate time to seek it within the meaning of this canon.

The second condition is that the faithul are properly disposed. This means things like they aren’t in an unconfessed state of mortal sin, they’ve observed the Eucharistic fast, etc. The Code doesn’t go the needed dispositions in detail, but the Catechism does, saying:

1384 The Lord addresses an invitation to us, urging us to receive him in the sacrament of the Eucharist: "Truly, I say to you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of man and drink his blood, you have no life in you."

1385 To respond to this invitation we must prepare ourselves for so great and so holy a moment. St. Paul urges us to examine our conscience: "Whoever, therefore, eats the bread or drinks the cup of the Lord in an unworthy manner will be guilty of profaning the body and blood of the Lord. Let a man examine himself, and so eat of the bread and drink of the cup. For any one who eats and drinks without discerning the body eats and drinks judgment upon himself." Anyone conscious of a grave sin must receive the sacrament of Reconciliation before coming to communion.

1386 Before so great a sacrament, the faithful can only echo humbly and with ardent faith the words of the Centurion: "Domine, non sum dignus ut intres sub tectum meum, sed tantum dic verbo, et sanabitur anima mea" ("Lord, I am not worthy that you should enter under my roof, but only say the word and my soul will be healed."). and in the Divine Liturgy of St. John Chrysostom the faithful pray in the same spirit:

O Son of God, bring me into communion today with your mystical supper. I shall not tell your enemies the secret, nor kiss you with Judas’ kiss. But like the good thief I cry, "Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom."

1387 To prepare for worthy reception of this sacrament, the faithful should observe the fast required in their Church. Bodily demeanor (gestures, clothing) ought to convey the respect, solemnity, and joy of this moment when Christ becomes our guest.

You’ll notice that there’s nothing in there about having to attend a certain portion of Mass–or even being in Mass at all (since one can receive Communion outside of Mass). So if someone has the proper dispositions (listed above), this condition is fulfilled.

The third condition is that the faithful not be prohibited by law from receiving Communion. If, therefore, one were to find a way to deny them Communion based on how late they arrived at Mass, it would have to be in this category.

But one can’t do that, because there simply is no legal prohibition on people receiving Communion if they have come to Mass late.

It is desirable, of course, that people have a substantial participation in the rite within which Communion is being distributed, but–and this is the point–it is not required.

Now, perhaps one would want to say that it is kinda crypto-required, that it’s understood but not stated expressly anywhere that you have to attend a certain part of Mass, or even all of it if you don’t have an excuse, to go to Communion. Perhaps we could fudge that in under the "appropriate times" or "properly disposed" requirements–contrary to the obvious purpose of these provisions in the canon.

Nope.

The Code further provides:

Can.  912 Any baptized person not prohibited by law can and must be admitted to Holy Communion.

Even though the Code has already said that sacred ministers cannot deny the sacraments to those who seek them under the above three conditions, just to make sure that we understand the point in the case of Holy Communion, it singles this sacrament out specially to stress that, if you’re baptized, you cannot be denied Communion unless you are prohibited by law.

And there’s no prohibition in the law regarding how much of a Mass (or Communion service) you must attend.

But what if we really, really want to shoehorn such a requirement into the law at this point? Is there any way to do that?

No, sorry.

The Code also provides:

Can. 18 Laws which establish a penalty, restrict the free exercise of rights, or contain an exception from the law are subject to strict interpretation.

And it provides:

Can. 213 The Christian faithful have the right to receive assistance from the sacred pastors out of the spiritual goods of the Church, especially the word of God and the sacraments.

If you want to restrict someone’s right to receive the sacraments then you’re going to have to have a law allowing you to do that and you’re going to have to subject it to strict interpretation.

This is particularly the case with Holy Communion, which uniquely among all the sacraments has its own canon singling out the fact that it can’t be denied unless there is a prohibition by law.

And there just is no law requiring the faithful to attend all or any of a Mass in order to receive Communion. You can be literally walking through a church at Communion time and, if you are properly disposed, you can receive.

Now, if you do that and it’s a Sunday or a holy day of obligation then you’ll need to attend a different Mass in order to fulfill your obligation to attend Mass, but that’s a separate question from whether you can receive Communion.

It is to be understood that Fr. McNamara is a liturgist and thus that his primary expertise would be in the Church’s liturgical documents, but as a liturgist he should be familiar with at least those parts of canon law touching on the liturgy and the faithful’s access to the sacraments–particularly the Eucharist.

His columns for Zenit regularly include an addendum clarifying confusion resulting from previous columns. Hopefully a future column will clarify this issue and properly separate the two subjects.

Old Mass, New Appeal

WaPo has a nice article on the demand that seems to be out there for celebrating the Mass according to the Tridentine form. (CHT to the reader who e-mailed!)

EXCERPT:

Maureen Williamson, a manager at the Fort Collins, Colo.-based Roman Catholic Books, said 200 copies of its $155 deluxe edition priest’s altar missal sold within two weeks of the papal announcement. She typically sells 20 to 35 a month.

"We’re projecting we are going to sell more than 700 by the end of the year," she said. "Now that this Mass is able to be said by anyone at any time, priests and parishes have been ordering it."

And then there’s this bit:

In the older rite, worshippers must kneel to receive Communion on their
tongues;

True.

the priest always leads the parishioners in facing east,
rather than facing them;

No. He faces east at certain points, but not always. (He certainly doesn’t preach the homily or distribute Holy Communion with his back to them, c’mon!)

and the rite is always in Latin.

True.

There are
other differences in terms of liturgy, priestly vestments and the
manner in which laity take part in the service.

True.

Women communicants of
the Tridentine mass customarily cover their heads, although it is not
mandated.

That may be true. I don’t know of any references in the rite itself to women having their heads covered (though I can’t say for certain since I haven’t read or translated all of the introductory documents yet). It was the 1917 Code of Canon Law–which has been abrogated–that contained the head covering requirement. Pending a find of a mandate in the liturgical texts themselves, this statement would be accurate.

GET THE STORY.

Summorum Pontificum Contact Database

Long-time readers know that I’m interested in how technology is changing society, including the role it will play in the religious world.

I’m therefore pleased to point to the Summoroum Pontificum Contact Database, which is designed to help make connections between people interested in having the extraordinary form of the Latin rite liturgy celebrated in their area (i.e., the "Tridentine Mass").

It’s only been out (so far as I know) since the motu proprio was released, and it’s already got 1400 contacts listed. The interface even allows you to specify possible ways that you might be able to help out (e.g., if you are a priest willing to say the Tridentine liturgy, if you’re willing to sing in a schola, if you’re able to help train altar servers).

If you have an interest in having the Tridentine form Mass in your area–whether you can help out in a special way or just help by your attendance–I’d encourage you to check it out.

ACCESS THE DATABASE.

(CHT to the reader who e-mailed!)

Commentary on Summorum Pontificum

This will be lengthy, so I’m putting the commentary below the fold so that it doesn’t clog up the front page of the blog (a clogged blog is no fun at all).

I’ll do a separate commentary on the accompanying apostolic letter so that we can keep what’s in the motu proprio and what’s in the apostolic letter separate (which is important for an element’s juridical status).

BTW, this commentary will be on the unofficial English translation. I may revise it when we get an official one or if mistranslations are discovered. This commentary may also be revised as I have the chance to look up points regarding the celebration of the Tridentine use of the liturgy. (I’m doing this on the fly, the same day as the release, so forgive me if I don’t have everything at the tips of my fingers.)

This will also be the first full-scale commentary on the motu proprio that I am aware of, so it may be of interest to other bloggers.

Click the link to read the full commentary.

Continue reading “Commentary on Summorum Pontificum”