Everybody is Not the Same

This is a liturgical post, so those of you who don’t care about the liturgy might as well quit here and wait for something exciting about my bean-plantings or base-twelve math. But if you do care about liturgy (like all right-thinking people should), stick around, take a deep breath, and try to understand that everybody is not the same.

This topic constantly comes up concerning the ill-advised changes in the liturgy effected in the 1960s. In the old days, we’re told (by which we always mean “before the liturgy was changed”), nobody understood the liturgy, because it was in Latin, and as we all know nobody can possibly understand anything that’s in a different language. That’s why nobody likes to listen to opera or Gregorian chant, or watch soccer games that are narrated in Spanish. Because nobody understood the liturgy, nobody participated in it. Everybody just sat there with their eyes down at a prayer book, or even praying the rosary. They were praying the rosary because that was something they could do in a language they knew; they were reading prayer books—many of which had prayers other than those of the Mass in them—because they were in English, or whatever language those other people speak, not in Latin, which nobody speaks. This is all a Very Bad Thing. People should all be paying attention to the prayers of the liturgy themselves, word for word, and they should not be paying attention to anything else. That’s the only way to participate in the liturgy.

This all ignores two facts, however. One, that it’s possible to understand the liturgy without understanding each individual word said therein; and two, that everybody is not the same.

As regards the first point, this seems clear. There is a famous story about Pope St. Pius X, who controversially (at that time) wanted to move the age of First Holy Communion down to the age of reason, seven or eight years old. Many people objected to this, saying that children that young, even if they had reached the age of reason, couldn’t be expected to understand the greatness of the Sacrament they were about to receive. Pope St. Pius X turned to a young girl, seven or eight years old, and asked her, “Whom do you receive when you receive Communion?” The little girl responded, “I receive Jesus.” The great pope then said, “This girl understands the greatness of the Sacrament, and can worthily receive it.”

It’s certainly true that the vast bulk of people in the old days did not understand Latin, and consequently were unable to understand the words of the priest, as he said them, solely by listening during the Mass. However, that most emphatically does not mean that they didn’t understand the Mass. They knew, from diligent instruction by competent catechists, that the Mass is the unbloody renewal of the Sacrifice of Jesus Christ at Calvary, that this Sacrifice is reenacted in an unbloody manner on the altar every single day at every single Mass, and that by the Mass Jesus Christ becomes truly present, Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity, under the species (the appearance) of bread and wine. What more does he need to understand about the Mass? Does he understand it any less because he can’t decline mensa or give all the possible forms of suscipere?

Go through a Novus Ordo Mass, where most of the people don’t even remember the times when all Roman Masses were in Latin, and see how many of them understand the nature of the Mass as well as those poor, benighted souls of the elder days, who were cruelly forced to have Mass in a dead language for centuries!

Second, it’s important to remember that everybody is different. For many people, learning Latin and following the liturgy orally as much as possible would be very beneficial; for many, attempting to follow each individual word of the priest would be more distracting than anything else. For some, it is better to remain silent and meditate upon the sufferings of Christ; some of these people will even (horror or horrors!) choose to do so by praying the rosary during Mass, as a way of focusing their attentions on the Sacrifice that is being renewed on the altar. Some will follow along, in Latin or in the vernacular, in a missalette; others will find it more helpful to pray other prayers, usually found in a prayer book, which more effectively focus his attention on the great mysteries of the Mass.

In the words of the great Pope Pius XII in Mediator Dei:

Many of the faithful are unable to use the Roman missal even though it is written in the vernacular; nor are all capable of understanding correctly the liturgical rites and formulas. So varied and diverse are men’s talents and characters that it is impossible for all to be moved and attracted to the same extent by community prayers, hymns and liturgical services. Moreover, the needs and inclinations of all are not the same, nor are they always constant in the same individual. Who, then, would say, on account of such a prejudice, that all these Christians cannot participate in the Mass nor share its fruits? On the contrary, they can adopt some other method which proves easier for certain people; for instance, they can lovingly meditate on the mysteries of Jesus Christ or perform other exercises of piety or recite prayers which, though they differ from the sacred rites, are still essentially in harmony with them.

How can we argue with that?

One of the constant objections to the old liturgy was that it was run by “liturgical nazis,” who insisted that all liturgies be the same. But why, then, did we in the old days so explicitly recognize these many valid ways of participating in the liturgy, while in these new, enlightened times we insist that everybody must be the same?

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