Breaths of the Spirit
My fellow presbyter, Father Nonomen, has a column in the current Commoweal which begins with a less than enthusiastic welcoming of the new translation of the Roman Missal. But, having delivered himself of some (always civil) lamentations, he takes a turn:
I’d rather look for ways to work within the system. And there is always a way. Finding it is a matter of keeping a sharp eye out for those moments of grace when inspiration comes from a most unlikely source
He then recounts a moving and grace-filled visit with a woman who, despite having suffered a stroke, radiated faith and joy . The priest leaves strengthened and renewed in his conviction that:
we must never forget the joy that brings us together to worship in the first place. Such joy remains the most important consequence of trusting that the Spirit is at work—even in our silences, and even in our errors.
Having studied the new Missal for some weeks now, I want to suggest “moments of grace” to savor as we worship. I am especially grateful for the Eucharistic Prayers. I think that the quasi-monopoly of Eucharistic Prayer II will end, because the new translations of Eucharistic Prayer IV and of the two Eucharistic Prayers for Reconciliation have been greatly improved and are much more “pray-able.”
In addition there are now included in the Missal itself the four variations on the “Eucharistic Prayer for Use in Masses for Various Needs.” They had previously been published in a separate booklet, but I dare say that most Catholics in the United States have never heard them.
For me these rich prayers, newly accessible, can be true moments of grace — though their source is far from “unlikely.”
Their effective use will require attentiveness on the part of priest and people (a challenge in a culture too often marked by attention deficit disorder). They will also benefit from breathing pauses of silence to allow the words to take root in our minds and hearts — breaths of the Spirit, if you will.
Lovely story from Father Nonomen. A catastrophic event suddenly arrives, she is utterly powerless to resist it, but instead of fruitless, wearying rebellion, she finds ways to live with it. Welcome the new missal as you would a massive stroke – something that cannot be avoided, so one might as well make the best of it.
I will welcome “breathing pauses of silence”. In fact I would welcome them in our current liturgy as well.
“Welcome the new missal as you would a massive stroke …”
I think the quest for grace in the face of loss, even if only the loss of language and forms one has grown used to, is something that undergirds the Christian life and that Catholicism helps people persist in (with the help of the sacraments and the saints). It has a power even for us Bad Catholics who only wait on the Table and are excluded from the meal.
If the welcoming of the new missal is seen as analogous in some respects to, or to be inspired by, the experiences of people who inescapably endure the unbidden effects of stroke (or serious attention deficit disorder) every night and day for years, the missal challenge is far worse than I thought. The missal is a book of prayers, deliberately imposed by Church authorities, which can be bought, used, adored or ignored, and discarded at will at the time of one’s choosing.
I certainly agree with the thought that, if she can endure her life after stroke as she does, I can find a way to accept a new missal translation. Inspiration is welcome wherever found. But, associating welcome with a stroke is inconceivable to me, based on my observations. “The loss of language and forms one has grown used to” in the two cases is not remotely comparable.
“For me these rich prayers, newly accessible, can be true moments of grace…”
This can be construed as a magical way of looking at grace. Reverting perhaps to the “ex opera operato” mentality where words transcend deeds and indulgences are superior to the beatitudes. Etc. This approach tends to the rubric manner of approaching the Eucharist rather than a thriving community which offers all to God because the people are kind, merciful, charitable…offering together reconciliation through Christ our Lord. Charity not formal prayers, covers a multitude of sins.
So I must confess Bob. I am disappointed that you continue to spin for rather than challenge our bishops to be better.
I don’t think the point of the essay was that the language in the new missal is to be compared with having an incapacitating stroke.
As Claire more succinctly pointed out, Fr. Nonomen’s lack of enthusiasm for the language in the new missal was put in perspective by the grace of someone who was suffering far more than language change.
Lord, forgive my irritation with Jack Barry and other non-subscribers who post on here without the slightest notion of the context of the original post and what the commenters are trying to say. Also forgive me when I disrupt or derail posts that my poor powers of observation and intellect fail to grasp, of which there are many such. Amen.
“For me these rich prayers, newly accessible, can be true moments of grace…”
I couldn’t agree more. As I am blessed to be part of a worshiping community that takes seriously the Lord’s command to love in deed and in word, I see the importance of prayer in helping us to open ourselves even more to God’s grace so that we may live lives of service and holiness
“In addition there are now included in the Missal itself the four variations on the “Eucharistic Prayer for Use in Masses for Various Needs.” They had previously been published in a separate booklet, but I dare say that most Catholics in the United States have never heard them.”
For readers who are unfamiliar with this, I thought it might be good to explain their origin. They were composed for the Swiss Synod on the Eucharist in 1974; it was really one prayer with four variations according to theme. They were laid out for ease of use in four complete texts, however. Bugnini records that the CDF was surprised and rebuked the authors, because it looked like four prayers, even though they had already given their permission. Nevertheless, these prayers were subsequently authorized for general use.
Their inclusion (rather than having them in a separate booklet) actually isn’t dependent on the new translation, but rather reflects the editorial updating that went into the third edition of the Roman Missal. They are beautiful prayers, and I hope they will be widely used. Readers of the LTP Sourcebook will have heard of them! ;)
A small point, but I do regret the change that the translators introduced into one of them. It had been called “Jesus, the Compassion of God,” and now is called “Jesus Who Went About Doing Good” or something like that. (Robert, please correct me, I don’t have the text in front of me right now.) Yes, more literal and all that, but I regret the loss of the more poetic phrase “the compassion of God.”
Obviously, there is still lots of unhappiness with the new translations.
The Spirit may blow IMO where and when He will as divsions just continue.
Rita,
Thank you for the helpful amplification. Your memory is correct. The fourth variation is now titled: “Jesus, Who Went About Doing Good.” I agree with you that the former designation in English, “Jesus: the Compassion of God,” was more direct and evocative.
There are certainly words and phrases in the Missal I or you would have rendered differently. But you’ve spoken to this already … often :-). My point was to suggest, following the author of the article, some “moments of grace.”
“Went about doing good” is not just literal (and all that), but scriptural (Acts 10:38). Peter pretty much sums up the Gospel of Mark: “God anointed Jesus of Nazareth with the Holy Spirit and power, and how he went around doing good and healing all who were under the power of the devil, because God was with him.”
Kathy, it does not come across in the same way at all when it is part of a much longer sentence, as when the title stops there. In the latter case, that’s the fully description. and it seems a little bit strange for a text addressed to adults.
In the new Mass, one of the things I look forward to is hearing “from the rising of the sun to its setting”. That phrase, for me, is a powerful image.
And, pardon me, but I look forward to striking my breast three times. When I did it as a kid it was an effective gesture to wake me up from the sleepy daze that normally came over me as soon as Mass started. I know it’s a little bit theatrical, and maybe it goes to show my bad taste, but I think I will like it. Why should it be only the priest who does all sorts of little ritual gestures, and not us as well? It’s a reminder that the Mass is not just some impersonal event but something that concerns me personally, and it will make me feel as though I am participating more actively. It’s like saying “God, pay attention to me, me, me!!” – It makes it harder to sleep through Mass after that. It shakes us from our zombie-like state.
So there will be a few moments of grace for me as well.
I agree about the mea culpa, Claire. Not only does the little ritual mean a lot spiritually, but seeing other people also gives us deaf folks another indication of what is actually happening when. Being so deaf all such cues are greatly appreciated. The more gestures of any sort the better.
Ann, that’s a good point. The Mass is supposed to use all the senses, isn’t it? There should be enough non-auditory events to make it come alive for deaf people as well.
Which makes me think of another potential plus in the changes to come:
If there is more incense, that, too, will make me happy.
Another moment of grace: I have been upset by the upcoming changes of the words at consecration, so upset that an unexpected blessing has come about: these days, whenever at Mass I hear the words “for you and for all”, I have a brief movement of thanksgiving for the fact that Christ came for all.
Claire,
The present rubric for the Confiteor (“I confess”) states, “They [the priest and people] strike their breast [once].” This is found in the Missale Romanum of 1969, even though it retains “mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa.” The striking of the breast once is faithfully repeated in the the ICEL Sacramentaries of 1973 (and 1998), even though the triple repetition of “mea culpa” is not replicated in English, but is replaced by the single “through my own fault.” But few people now strike the breast once, even many priests. I do, and have done for close on forty years. The fault isn’t the former ICEL’s. It’s there in the book. The Latin and the English.
(And few bow, as even now called for in the Nicene Creed, at the words, “by the power of the Holy Spirit/he was born of the Virgin Mary, and became man.” Too, a full genuflection is required in the present (1973) Sacramentary, following the Latin, when these words are sung or recited on Christmas and the Annunciation. How many do?)
The 2001 editio tertia of the Missale Romanum continues the practice of striking the breast only once, though the three-fold “mea culpa” is continued. And this is faithfully, of course, replicated in the coming literal English Missal.
You may, of course, out of personal piety, strike yourself three times, but the rubric, in the Latin and in the English, specifies only ONCE.
1. Having known the 1950s/early 1960s Church and the harmful and debilitating scrupulosity that was hardly exceptional then among priests, religious, and laity, I think that the coming text, which now speaks (following the Latin literally, as demanded) of “I have greatly ["nimis"] sinned” is regrettable. We all sin, even daily, but “greatly”? Yes, there is a Scripture allusion, but at times that way madness lies. (And this is the penitential rite used most often at daily Mass. A congregation of egregious sinners? I think not.) If ‘nimis” had to be translated, “exceedingly” would have done.
2. “My most grievous fault.” In my youth, we were taught that it was possible to commit “grievous” or “mortal” sins often, even several times daily. Do we really want to return to this?
As well, “grievous” is often misspelled and mispronounced as “grievious.” Isn’t “through my own fault” far more powerful, and, for heaven’s sake, it’s ENGLISH.
God knows, I’m no rubricist, but we need the facts.
Saints of God, come to our aid!
John P. –
We weren’t taught that “grievous” implied a mortal sign as you were. No wonder you object to it. But we were reminded that at times all but the saints do very bad things, if not mortally sinful ones, and so “mea maxima culpa” was appropriate for most of us.
Actually, I’m wondering if the culture is generally going into a more self-critical mode. And it would probably be a good thing. Notice how the media has picked up on Cain’s “Blame yourself!” :-)
John Page,
My thanks for your informative and thoughtful comments. I do bow during the Creed and genuflect on Christmas.
Our parish here in Newton Centre is the home parish for the Archdiocesan Apostolate to persons who are deaf. To participate in a Mass in American Sign Language is a striking experience. And as Ann and Claire say, sensory stimuli are important: gestures, of course, incense, even banners. One can always tell when an ASL liturgy has been celebrated for the aroma of incense continues to permeate the church.
The saints of God stand ready — provided we are wise and not (exceedingly) foolish.
Hasn’t it often been observed of the saints that the holier a person becomes the more grievous even venial sins appear to them to be?
Alas, I am only in the purgative stage.
John,
you are in good company: we are a multitude. Hence, “ecclesia semper purificanda.”
Isn’t scrupulosity a thing of the past? It’s difficult to even understand it. In this culture, it does not exist, and the words “most grievous sins” are not going to bring it back, are they?
I try to think of examples, and not much comes to mind. Maybe the perfectionist students who keep trying to make their assignment perfect, until they miss the deadline. But scrupulosity is not the same as perfectionism. Maybe the Amtrak conductor who prevented me from getting on his train for lack of ticket, even though there was no time for me to buy it, and even though my scheduled train, 30 minutes later, had been cancelled by Amtrak? But stupid legalism is not the same as scrupulosity. Maybe the people who wash their hands seven times and keep their house spotlessly clean through constant cleaning? But OCD is an illness and is not the same as scrupulosity. Maybe the students who are unhappy with me for saying both one thing and its opposite, then telling them they should not trust me but only their own powers of reasoning? But excessive trust of authority is not the same as scrupulosity.
I find it hard to be worried about something of which I have no experience.
Isn’t this exactly the issue?
Do we say words at Mass that
a) make perfect sense to everyone, or
b) would make more sense if we were saintly
If the Mass is meant to unite us to God, couldn’t there be a good reason for spiritual elevation to occur, using option b)? “Fake it till you make it”–isn’t that the expression?
I think charity requires us to assume that the revised Missal language was developed to open up new insights, make better Catholics, and bring more people to God.
I pray that happens. We all should, no?
The Mass is not magic, and so there is no need for mumbo jumbo for it to spiritually elevate. Words that make sense are more likely to achieve that end, because words that do not make sense distract, preventing any spiritual elevation.
Alan –
I agree, but there are words and expressions which convey mystery. In some cultures there are sacred languages for this purpose. Some of such language is used for magic and voodoo, but the fact is that though magic doesn’t work voodoo sometimes does — when the subjects believe in it.
This technological culture of ours is missing a lot, I think, when it denigrates all spiritual stuff, including healthy-minded awe of mysterious origins and ends. “Mumbo-jumbo” is a word often found on Humanist, atheist sites. I don’t doubt that it’s because even they see that it has a certain power, and that power is threatening to atheism. Not that the atheists aren’t sincere. But mumbo-jumbo is a issue for them. We need to all the reasons why.
I didn’t mean to advocate mumbo-jumbo, but mysticism.
Oops — shoud be: We need to LOOK AT ALL the reasons why.
Kathy –
Unfortunately, for many people mystical expressions are mumbo-jumbo. It’s their loss, I think.
“Obviously, there is still lots of unhappiness with the new translations.” I subscribe to The Tablet. Evidently the new prayers are in effect in the UK already. The (granted – small) selection of comments in the letters section of each issue reveal continue dissatisfaction based upon exprience. Of course, the reps of the Latin Mass Society continue to crow about how blessedly wonderful the more formalized and archaic language is.
There has also been widespread dissatisfaction in Australia, and those folks are much less careful than the Tablet readers in the language they use to describe what they don’t like.
I suspect that once we in the US get exposed to the new wording, some parishes will knuckle down and go along, and others will ignore the changes in various degrees, i.e., breast beating (puhleeze!!!). More incense can become quite problemmatic for people with allergies, and we know how willing the church has been to deal with people with celiac intolerance. Or who are alcoholics and cannot have an alternative to communion wine.
What are the bishops going to do – fire all pastors (we have so many, you know) who aren’t good little obedient sheep?
John Page: as we are both survivors of 1950s Catholicism, you must have know – as did I – that Scrupulosity that the first of the 5 Marks of the Church.
Thank God it is making a comeback!
“I think charity requires us to assume that the revised Missal language was developed to open up new insights, make better Catholics, and bring more people to God.”
Jean, charity is always primary. Unfortunately, your assumption of good will while salutary is not corroborated. In restorationist Catholic circles these changes have been advocated for a long time. Many of them are good people but they got entrapped by traditionalists who place empire over the gospel and dogma over the spirit. In many of them there was/is a real meanness. Most pastors opposed the literal translations of the Latin Vulgate (the vernacular of the time) and were forced by threats to support them.
So now that they have apparently “won” (they have not) a peace offer is extended. More like wolves in sheep’s clothing with the usual suspects in the forefront.
Bill, I realize that the liturgical changes represent larger issues for many people about the direction in which the Church is heading. Certainly, language carries factional overtones, and it’s sad when it breaks up the Body of Christ.
I sincerely believe that those who developed the new language feel it better expresses what the Church teaches and will make better Catholics. Fr. Imbelli seems to have derived a new appreciation for some of the prayers, and others are looking forward to bringing back rubrics such as tapping one’s chest at the mea culpa.
I also sincerely believe the Church is heading always and ever toward more perfect union with Christ in Heaven, but not necessarily in a straight line. It’s pretty winding with lots of backtracks and sidetracks. This may be one of them. Or it may represent great progress.
Do I personally like these changes? No, I do not, but I’ve never liked the language used in the RC Mass. I still prefer the 1979 BCP, Rite II. Apparently, while perhaps deficient, that language has been deemed good enough, given that the Pope has offered to allow Episcopalians use of their own rite if they want to come back into the fold.
I’ll leave it to others to debate the merits of the upcoming liturgical translation (values come into play here, and values-based conflicts can often enough be irresolvable). Because I’ve already left the Church of Rome over the current pope’s initiatives, I won’t be using these newly imposed prayers.
It’s the story behind the new translation that gives me more than enough heartburn. For a good “read” about Rome’s takeover, see Robert Mickens’ three articles published in THE TABLET earlier this year at http://misguidedmissal.com/wp/?p=181. John Wilkins’ “Lost in Translation: the bishops, the Vatican & the English Liturgy” gives a good account of the process up to time of publication of the article in COMMONWEAL a few years ago. It’s available free at the “findarticles.com” website.
Professor Imbelli, thank you for identifying yourself as a “presbyter”. I hope this word over time will come into greater use by and about the ordained liturgical presiders in the Church of Rome. I hope Catholics will eventually eliminate references to the use of the word *priest* vis-a-vis ordained ministers. Likewise, I hope Catholics will settle on a better and healthier understanding of “sacrifice” than what Rome teaches today.
Finally, as a guy who had significant breathing problems eight years ago associated with allergies and who had, until then, worshipped at a Sunday noon liturgy filled with incense, I can appreciate the concerns expressed earlier for folks who cannot tolerate incense or other assaults on the body.
“I think charity requires us to assume that the revised Missal language was developed to open up new insights, make better Catholics, and bring more people to God”
The Catechism tells us that for an action to be good it must be pursued by just means. When I consider how the staff of the old ICEL was disposed of as so much bad rubbish, how their good work of 1998 (approved by the bishops) was trashed, how the 2008 translation produced by the new ICEL and approved by the bishops was greatly revised by anonymous hacks, and how Canon Allan Griffiths and Fr. Anthony Ruff were sacked for raising reasonable questions about this final product after having toiled long and hard toward its success, I cannot credit the deed as “good.” I therefore doubt that it will achieve the noble purposes you outline. But by all means find in it what you can to like! Just because the thing isn’t good as a whole doesn’t mean there aren’t any good bits in it! :)
Braxvo Rita!
Rita,
I’m not quite sure what “braxvo” means, but I’m sure it can be translated as a compliment.
As you know, threads take on lives of their own. Perhaps I should try to keep them more focused and occasionally press “delete,” but I try to let others have their say, since I’ve had mine in the original post.
But we’ve wended our way from the “moments of grace” that the Missal’s Eucharistic Prayers can provide, to the process that brought them into being — not counting some aspersions on the integrity of those who may espouse other points of view.
I think I’ve suggested in the past that I am no proponent of the process that led us to this point. John Wilkins’ piece, referenced above, was profoundly saddening. In addition, I deeply regret the non-acceptance of the 1998 translation. As a consequence, as presbyter and priest, I and we have been forced to use a seriously inadequate translation for an additional 10 plus years.
But I have never doubted that using this current translation truly made present to us sacramentally the very body and blood of the Lord. Nor that the Lectionary readings, whatever the inadequacies of the NAB, truly convey “the Word of the Lord.”
Thus I am distressed — despite the :) — at your phrase: “good bits in it.” I understand your meaning, but it could be construed by some to suggest that come the First Sunday of Advent, the Lord’s real Presence may be lacking in our celebration. That a translation some may find suspect, erodes the very substance of the Liturgy. And that would truly be tragic.
It’s irritating to be thought a dupe for being willing to accept the sincerity of the promulgators of the new language.
In my view, the lackluster celebration of the Mass in the local parish and the spiritless quality of the music and homily will try my weak faith far more than the language changes in the liturgy.
I always assume God shows up despite it all–or perhaps is more present because it’s all so poorly done.
” it could be construed by some to suggest that come the First Sunday of Advent, the Lord’s real Presence may be lacking in our celebration. ”
I have not seen anyone suggest that.
It is our own active participation, our own real presence, that may be lacking then.
I’m very keen on the entrance antiphons right at the moment.
For the second Sunday of Advent, the entrance antiphon (talk about mysticism!) says:
O people of Sion, behold, the Lord will come to save the nations, and the Lord will make the glory of his voice heard in the joy of your heart.
Dear Robert,
I am truly sorry that my “good bits in it” was cause for distress, and am most astonished at the idea that anyone might take away from my last comment the idea that the Real Presence may be lacking in our celebrations come Advent 1. Perhaps I should clarify that the “thing” to which I was referring is the translation, not the Sacrament or the Liturgy as a whole, which I would never refer to as a “thing” in any case.
Thank you for your affirmations above, in re Jesus: the Compassion of God, and in re the process by which the translation was produced.
You are right that threads take on a life of their own, and I respect your place to step in and call us back to the topic when necessary. But I understood that the delete button was reserved for infractions against the commenting policy, and not for maintaining a uniform tone or point of view. I really do feel that my comment was within the dotCommonweal policy, and relevant to the discussion.
“Having known the 1950s/early 1960s Church and the harmful and debilitating scrupulosity that was hardly exceptional then among priests, religious, and laity, I think that the coming text, which now speaks (following the Latin literally, as demanded) of “I have greatly ["nimis"] sinned” is regrettable. We all sin, even daily, but “greatly”? Yes, there is a Scripture allusion, but at times that way madness lies. (And this is the penitential rite used most often at daily Mass. A congregation of egregious sinners? I think not.)”
This observation of John Page’s is worthy of more reflection, I think. I once attended a presentation on preaching by Richard Fragomeni, and he observed that, in his opinion, those who attend daily mass are the already-saved, the saints among us – for the most part, elderly folks of deep faith whose lives are dwindling, who have already experienced great loss, and are facing death and what comes after it in a way that most of us haven’t yet had to do. (The point about preaching is that our preaching to them should be of a different character than our Sunday homilies which may, at least on occasion, look to “afflict the comfortable”.)
This group may be, perhaps, the *least* likely group in our parish to commit serious sins day in and day out! But, as Fr. Joe remarks, it may be that, as our holiness increases, we feel the pain of sin more acutely, and so it really does cause us more grief.
Then, too, John P.’s observation may be an argument to *not* use that particular form of the penitential rite at daily mass. What about Form B:
Priest: Have mercy on us, O Lord
People: For we have sinned against you.
Priest: Show us, O Lord, your mercy.
People: And grant us your salvation.
I couldn’t tell you the last time I heard it used; it may hearken back to my old altar boy days in the ’70′s. Unlike the Confiteor, it does not refer to large sins or grievous faults. And it is in first person plural, so focuses less on personal culpability and more on the social/corporate reality of sin.