Thoughts on Advent
Advent is the shortest season in the liturgical year. It’s like a tiny jewel. In the space of four weeks we go from the end of the world to the birth of the Messiah—and we have many impressive encounters along the way. The thunder of John the Baptist is here. The quiet fiat of the Virgin Mary is here. Old Testament prophets speak words of hope and consolation.
There are two prefaces for Advent—one used only during the last eight days of the season: those days when the O Antiphons are sung at Evening Prayer. For the shortest season of the year to actually have a “season within a season” of the octave preceding Christmas is another of Advent’s small wonders.
The two prefaces for Advent are fruit of the reform of the liturgy at Vatican II (there was only one prior). Both are remarkably beautiful. The first recalls the Incarnation as the fulfillment of God’s plan for our salvation, and colors our Advent waiting with eschatological hope.
When he humbled himself to come among us as a man,
he fulfilled the plan you formed long ago,
and opened for us the way to salvation.
Now we watch for the day,
hoping that the salvation promised us will be ours
when Christ our Lord will come again in his glory.
[New Translation: He assumed at his first coming the lowliness of human flesh, and so fulfilled the design you formed long ago, and opened for us the way to eternal salvation, so that when he comes again in glory and majesty and all is at last made manifest, we who watch for that day may inherit the great promise in which we now dare to hope.]
The second preface evokes the heralds of Christ’s coming: the prophets, Mary, John the Baptist. At the end of the preface we are welcomed into their circle. We too are there. Here is the marvelous section in which we take our place among the heralds of Christ.
In his love, Christ has filled us with joy
as we prepare to celebrate his birth,
so that when he comes he may find us watching in prayer,
our hearts filled with wonder and praise.”
[New Translation: “He it is who grants our anticipating with joy the mystery of his birth, so that he may find us watchful in prayer and exultant in his praise.”]
The candles of the Advent wreath, the hymns of the season, the colors of purple and blue—all sing to us of Christ, who is coming. The season passes so quickly! Treasure it while you can.
You’re right; Advent does go by so quickly. In addition to the liturgical calendar, we Americans have our great national feast day, Thanksgiving, just before Advent begins. Thus, we rise from our turkey-and-stuffing induced slumber to find Advent suddenly upon us.
Fortunately, this year we get as long an Advent as possible—since Christmas is on a Sunday.
P.S. What Advent traditions do people have? In our family, we have a seasonal prayer for Grace at supper (the first verse of “O Come, O Come Emmanuel” (sung).
We decorate slowly for Christmas. We started with the Advent wreath last Saturday evening. We typically put off getting a Christmas tree until the 3rd or 4th weekend of Advent. And we have lots of music—Advent and Christmas CDs and tapes that we’ll play throughout Advent and Christmas.
Don’t know about elsewhere, but in NYC the Advent season and the Advent wreath are helped by the plethora of Christmas/Hanukkah tree stands that pop up on the day after Thanksgiving. We surveyed the forest on Saturday and bought our wreath. Anticipating the season, we found three purple and one rose candle(s) a few weeks back. For some reason, rose candles are hard to come by.
Thank you Rita for the meditation.
Maybe we could have an interlinear translation:
He assumed at his first coming the lowliness of human flesh,
When he humbled himself to come among us as a man,
and so fulfilled the design you formed long ago,
he fulfilled the plan you formed long ago,
and opened for us the way to eternal salvation,
and opened for us the way to salvation.
so that when he comes again in glory and majesty and all is at last made manifest,
we who watch for that day
may inherit the great promise in which we now dare to hope.
Now we watch for the day,
hoping that the salvation promised us will be ours
when Christ our Lord will come again in his glory.
I assume that you’re referring to the old translation, because nothing else could be so palpably inadequate.
The translation of the second preface left out “anticipating” (Latin: “praevenire”) and “mystery” (Latin: “mysterium”).
The first preface is even worse: It’s missing the allusions to the First Coming (“primo adventu”) and the Second Coming (“secundo venerit”). It leaves out the concepts of “lowliness” (“humilitate”), “flesh” (“carnis”), “eternal” (“perpetuae”), “majesty” (“maiestatis”), “manifest” (“manifesto”), and “dare” (“audemus”*).
What a work of iconoclasm that old translation was.
* Related to “audacity” . . . perhaps Obama’s book title “The Audacity of Hope” is an allusion to “audemus exspectare” from this prayer, although probably not.
I’m still think Comme le Prevoit was closer to having it right:
“6. The purpose of liturgical translations is to proclaim the message of salvation to believers and to express the prayer of the Church to the Lord: “Liturgical translations have become . . . the voice of the Church” (address of Paul VI to participants in the congress on translations of liturgical texts, 10 November 1965).[e] To achieve this end, it is not sufficient that a liturgical translation merely reproduce the expressions and ideas of the original text. Rather it must faithfully communicate to a given people, and in their own language, that which the Church by means of this given text originally intended to communicate to another people in another time. A faithful translation, therefore, cannot be judged on the basis of individual words: the total context of this specific act of communication must be kept in mind, as well as the literary form proper to the respective language….”
12. c. The translator must always keep in mind that the “unit of meaning” is not the individual word but the whole passage. The translator must therefore be careful that the translation is not so analytical that it exaggerates the importance of particular phrases while it obscures or weakens the meaning of the whole. Thus, in Latin, the piling up of , , may increase the sense of invocation. In other tongues, a succession of adjectives may actually weaken the force of the prayer. The same is true of or or the routine addition of or to a saint’s name, or the too casual use of superlatives. Understatement in English is sometimes the more effective means of emphasis.
http://www.ewtn.com/library/CURIA/CONSLEPR.HTM
Two corrections:
“Thus in Latin, the piling up of “ratam”, “rationabilem”, “acceptabilem”…”
“The same is true of “beatissima Virgo” or “beata et gloriosa” or the routine addition of “sanctus” or “beatus” to a saint’s name…”
My Advent traditions:
1) Saying the Hail and Blessed 15 times a day from the feast of St. Andrew (tomorrow) through Christmas Eve. Very important intention this year.
Hail and blessed be the hour and moment In which the Son of God was born of the most pure Virgin Mary, at midnight, in Bethlehem, in piercing cold. In that hour, vouchsafe, O my God, to hear my prayer and grant my desires, through the merits of Our Saviour Jesus Christ, and of His Blessed Mother. Amen.
2) Singing (in private) the old Advent hymns from my childhood: Drop Down Dew, Creator Alme Siderum, etc., and the O Antiphons.
Rita, thank you for the beautiful reflection. FWIW, I’ve found Advent’s combination of brevity and richness to be a challenge for “entering into” the season. It has taken me a good many years to figure out how to do it – perhaps that’s not a bad thing, though. And it is so out of step with the secular culture – I’ve heard so much over the last week about “Black Friday” and “Cyber Monday”.
Hi, Gerelyn, I’ve never run across that “Hail and Blessed” custom before – nor, I think, have I encountered the actual prayer before. Is it something you learned as a little girl?
Yes, I learned it as a child. (Google “Hail and Blessed Be the Hour” for 3 million leads.)
I have several holy cards with the prayer on it. On the two before me now, the 1897 imprimatur is by Archbishop Michael Augustine Corrigan of New York. I think I have one with Archbhishop Farley’s imprimatur, too.
It says, “It is piously believed that whoever recites the above prayer fifteen times a day from the feast of St. Andrew (30th Nov.) until Christmas will obtain what is asked.”
Yes, thank you, Rita. How nice to have these wonderful reflections about Advent.
“And it is so out of step with the secular culture – I’ve heard so much over the last week about ‘Black Friday’ and ‘Cyber Monday’.”
We had an interesting discussion about this in my mass communication class today. Many of my students are temping in holiday retail jobs and we compared the bright, shiny commercials luring in consumers with the reality they’re seeing in their stores.
Many of them are feeling out of step with secular culture about now.
Perhaps the Lord works in mysterious ways.
” Many of my students are temping in holiday retail jobs and we compared the bright, shiny commercials luring in consumers with the reality they’re seeing in their stores.”
Hi, Jean, I realize that I haven’t exactly burnished my reputation as Friend of Labor on this forum, but if I knew how to go about it, I would have scheduled an organizational meeting for local retail workers, and then showed up at all of those retailers who had the nerve to open at midnight on Thanksgiving, and passed out flyers announcing the the meeting to every retail worker I could find. They’re exploited. ‘Tain’t right.
Let’s all assume lowliness and make humble prayer and petition that the new translation find an expeditious demise.
Thank you, Rita Ferrone, for the Advent reflections. Me,I would add to the music Bach’s 147th cantata, Wachet Auf, with its wonderful hymn. Perhaps too, if I were rewriting the Advent liturgy (heaven forbid) I would make more of it’s being the Church’s New Year.
If we have an “expeditious demise” of the new translations, I imagine that we will all hear it go Clunk, rather like the examples Rita Ferrone gives.
Let’s all assume lowliness and make humble prayer and petition that the new translation find an expeditious demise.
Whatever faults the new translation has, it’s immeasurably better than what came before. Who can stomach the rank incompetence of the old translation, stripped of so many evocative words and concepts?
Jim, the students feel grateful for the work. Most of them are older students who have been laid off and are struggling to make ends meet as they retool their skills.
But it is certainly dawning on them, as it did on the Grinch: “Maybe Christmas, he thought, doesn’t come from a store. Maybe Christmas, perhaps, means a little bit more.”
Stuart Buck: Who can stomach the slavishly Latinate “sentences” in the new translation? I know, I know. Your college professor said you had Latin superpowers. But for the rest of us–and perhaps especially for native English speakers who understand that “to prepare” implies “anticipation” (what a dramatic loss)–the new one does not much impress. I doubt many critics of the new translation would complain if it had managed to squeeze out, say, thirty percent more speakable–more understandable–sentences, all while preserving the Latin, if not every single precious Latin word.
Grant — do you ever have anything serious to say? Or is everything just an excuse to personally mock individual people?
It’s not a sign of seriousness to make fun of “every single precious Latin word,” as if we’re just talking about an occasional article or something, when the old translation managed to leave out nearly a dozen significant words and theological concepts in just two prayers.
For anyone who struggles with the difficulty of following along: Buy some recordings of great historical speeches, works of literature, that kind of thing — Lincoln’s addresses, Shakespeare, the Federalist Papers, stuff that high school graduates used to be able to read or even write (check out some of the letters sent by Civil War soldiers). By comparison, the new mass will seem easy.
English as it was spoken during the Civil War?
I give up.
Over at “America”, Fr. Martin asks about a text he read in a mass he celebrated:
“O God, who see how your people faithfully await….
Who see? Shouldn’t it be “who sees”? Is God plural? Are the translators referring to the Trinity?”
The conclusion of the people who commented is that it istechnically correct because it is following the Latin.
It’s just that no one who is a native English speaker would write it that way.
It seems to me that that is the basic problem that runs through many parts of the new translation.
See the discussion at: http://americamagazine.org/blog/entry.cfm?blog_id=2&entry_id=4779
Stuart Buck: You missed my point, which I think even you may deem serious. Most critics of the new translation aren’t concerned that it contains more of the Latin. They are offended by the quality of the English. Apparently you think it’s about as good as the Gettysburg Address. Forgive me, but that, too, I find laughable.
John Hayes — might I suggest that there was a misprint somewhere? Such things do happen from time to time.
Grant: Most critics of the new translation aren’t concerned that it contains more of the Latin. They are offended by the quality of the English.
I’ve heard plenty of critics lamenting the fact that “and with your spirit” now matches the Latin (as well as the German, French, Italian, Spanish, etc.), or whining about the “mea culpa” line in the Confiteor (which was completely omitted before). They’re not motivated by the quality of the English, they just don’t like the Roman Missal. They’re like people who got used to drinking Pabst Blue Ribbon, and now are whining that they were given a Shiner Bock (which is still not a great beer, but it’s a marked improvement).
Moreover, I most certainly did not say that the new translation is of the same quality as the Gettysburg Address. What I do say is that when people seem to be complaining about having to hear anything but simple declarative sentences, a better education in classic works of English might help.
That said, I will admit that some of the new translations are a bit unclear — which preposition is referring to which noun, etc. So the new translation isn’t perfect.
But it’s still immeasurably superior to the earlier translation. I don’t see how anyone can disagree with that, although my saying it seemed to get your ire up for some reason.
John Hayes — I guess it’s not a misprint. Oh well, as I said, the new translation isn’t perfect, but so far, the errors people are finding, compared to the errors of the old translation, are like a couple of fleas compared to a herd of elephants.
I confess to almighty God,
and to you, my brothers and sisters,
that I have sinned THROUGH MY OWN FAULT, (mea culpa)
in my thoughts and in my words,
in what I have done and what I have failed to do;
and I ask blessed Mary, ever virgin,
all the angels and saints,
and you, my brothers and sisters,
to pray for me to the Lord our God.
“What I do say is that when people seem to be complaining about having to hear anything but simple declarative sentences, a better education in classic works of English might help.” I expect more from you, Stuart, than a straw-man argument. At least you’re willing to admit the new translation has problems. Previously, you seemed to be offering an almost puritanical view of liturgical translation–reproduce every word or else the work is incompetent, and those behind it dishonest. As David Nickol noted, the words “correct” and “incorrect” probably don’t apply when it comes to this kind of task. Translation is not a science. This is why we speak of some translations as better than others. (Think of Scripture: Would you say the King James Version is more or less accurate than the NRSV? Which would you rather read aloud?) Everyone acknowledged the problems of the ’73 text. They were being addressed when Rome scotched the effort in ’98. Now we have the translation produced by Vox Clara and the new-but-not-improved ICEL, which privileges the shape of Latin syntax over the demands of English. Not a small problem for proclaimed text intended as shared prayer.
“Everyone acknowledged the problems of the ‘73 text. They were being addressed when Rome scotched the effort in ‘98.”
Partially — the 1998 translation, as I’ve discussed before, seemed to go out of its way to leave in some of the most glaring errors and omissions in the ordinary of the mass. And yes, while translation isn’t a science, there are some things that are indisputably wrong — i.e., translating “spiritu” by just leaving it out.
Robert — OK, technically, what the old translation did with the Confiteor was 1) shorten the mea culpa line by 2/3; 2) move the mea culpa line to the first clause; 3) leave out the word “nimis” (greatly, exceedingly, excessively). In any event, the point remains: people who object to the new translation of the Confiteor are not even arguably doing so because the English is bad. They’re doing so because they dislike what the Roman Missal actually says, and they prefer inaccuracy.
Ok,
Ok,
Really Ok,
Studabaker.
As Rita said before, “It doesn’t sing.”
And it is not English.
Sure, it’s English. Look at the translations of the two prayers discussed in this post. Even minimally educated people should be able to follow those prayers when recited. I’m not sure why so many people are eager to proclaim themselves too dumb to follow along.
“Consubstantial — now how am I supposed to learn one (1) entirely brand new word at my age, and one with four syllables no less! Why, I can barely count to four. This is just too hard for me to understand.”
Sorry, but “O God, who see how your people faithfully await….” is neither a misprint nor an error!
It’s the second person, because it is the vocative. God is “you.” “You who see…” not third person, “He/she/it who sees…”
This has bedeviled translators for a long time, not surprisingly. Aurally, the correct form comes across as “yoo-hoo.” Written, most contemporary English speakers still don’t get it. Like you guys, who are really quite bright, or Jim Martin. :)
There are other errors, let me be clear. This isn’t one of them, however.
Right Robert Mickens!
And thanks Rita. Lovely prayers, simple and graceful.
Read your piece after returning from the fourth day of the new translation. It doesn’t get better.
I feel sorry for clergymen who find themselves uncomfortably cast in the role of “self-important, yet nervously obsequious courtier” addressing the Almighty on our behalf. ( Felix Aylmer as Polonius comes to mind.) There is something terribly “off” about the register in which their prayers are cast.
Stdabaker,
It is not a matter of being “too dumb to follow along” or that the prayer are “just too hard for me to understand”.
They are inelegant. The English language has its own rules, style and rhythm. That does not mean we use the same language at Mass that we use at a barbie, as Cardinal Pell, so nastily said in criticism of the 1973 translation.
How words sound together is also important — for proclamation and for understanding.
As Steven Colbert said facetiously on a recent broadcast, “And, by the way, consubstantial is called Istanbul now!”
In the end, I think the product does not live up to the enormous effort, rankling and expense. (And I won’t even go into the highly questionable process and what it means for our ecclesiology, except to say it blatantly violated every principle of translation listed in Sacrosanctum Concilium, few as they were.)
The new translation reads like the 1957 St Joseph “Continuous” Sunday Missal.
Stdabaker = Studebaker.
Mea culpa.
Rita, Fr. Anthony Ruff’s comment over on America, is that the way most liturgical churches would translate it is:
“Oh God, you see how our people faithfully await the feast of the Lord’s Nativity. Enable us….”
But, as he says:
“But that solution is not allowed by our new translation rules because it doesn’t preserve Latin syntax. It is thought that the grammar expresses interrelationship of theological ideas.”
Pity.
Well, there’s no one who can, in good faith, say that the old translations of these Advent prayers haven’t been superseded by a translation that is immeasurably more faithful to the Latin text. Nor can anyone in good faith deny that the Latin text has many evocative concepts and ideas that had previously been stripped out.
But you can still say that aesthetically you prefer the old translation. De gustibus non disputandum est, or, as they say in English, “There’s no disputing about.”
“Aurally, the correct form comes across as “yoo-hoo.” ”
Great – now I’m going to have “On Eagles Wings” running through my head for the rest of the day :-)
“For the shortest season of the year to actually have a “season within a season” of the octave preceding Christmas is another of Advent’s small wonders.”
Rita, I’m glad you’ve highlighted this, as this is another thing that I really love.
Istm we have similar mini-seasons between Epiphany and Baptism of the Lord (really mini this year!), and between Ascension and Pentecost. Our diocese has observed Ascension on Sunday for a number of years now, so it has become a sort of octave.
“It is piously believed that whoever recites the above prayer fifteen times a day from the feast of St. Andrew (30th Nov.) until Christmas will obtain what is asked.”
But no indulgences? What a waste.
Me, I’ll stick with pious ejaculations. http://www.amazon.com/Silex-Scintillans-Etc-Sacred-Ejaculations/dp/0559444435
When I stand before my Maker and am asked why I should be there as opposed to, well, you now, I’ll proudly say: Because I prayed in language faithful to the Latin text.
That’ll get me me to heaven sans purgatory in a New York minute.
No wonder Catholicism looks sillier and sillier to the outside world (and a lot of those inside as well) these days. Faithful to the Latin text! How very Church Ladyish.
I never had much confidence in Mr. Studebaker’s competence in handling either Latin or English, but when he failed to recognize that “O God, who see” is grammatically correct, I knew my mistrust was not misplaced.
Translating the “Deus, qui” construction exactingly is an excellent example of why a literal approach cannot be made an absolute. The form seemed odd to me over a half century ago when as a kid in seventh grade I struggled to get all the ribbons in place in my Saint Andrew’s Daily Missal.
Does anyone recall the “oratio imperata”? Many weekdays in the old calendar had two (or three) saints to be commemorated, but the number of collects had to be an odd number — three, five, or seven. If there were three saints for the day, the priest was fine, but if only two, that’s where the ‘oratio imperata,” usually in the 1950s the prayer for peace, came to the rescue. Two, no; three, God was pleased. And there was no need for a liturgical reform?
Studebaker –
You say: “There’s no disputing about.”
Huh? Disputing about WHAT?
That, my friend, is not English. And it a perfect example of why literal translations from Latin can often lead to clumsy sounding phrases in English.
The old “de gustibus” adage would be more aptly rendered in English as, “It’s a matter of taste,” IMHO.
There are probably other other possible renderings. But yours ain’t it!
“I never had much confidence in Mr. Studebaker’s competence in handling either Latin or English, but when he failed to recognize that”O God, who see” is grammatically correct, I knew my mistrust was not misplaced.”
I have not looked at the original Latin, and I still think that it sounds odd in English. But in any event, it’s a red herring to talk about the dangers of slavish literalism as a means of distracting from the ridiculous errors that you were involved in.
Robert — I deliberately left out “taste.” I guess omitting Latin words does matter, after all.
Now if I had wanted to be literal, I would have said something more like, “Of taste, not a disputing is.” So yes, literal translations often don’t work, and have to be reworded to make sense in English so that it doesn’t sound like Yoda is talking.
But appealing to that principle does nothing to defend the old translation of the Novus Ordo (and even the 1998 translation in some places), which were guilty of leaving stuff out willy-nilly with no rhyme or reason whatsoever.
Low blow, Studebaker.
John Page was involved in the production of the 1998 Sacramentary, a translation overwhelmingly approved by the episcopal conference-members of ICEL, but rejected by the Holy See — I can confidently say — primarily on ideological grounds.
It was a more faithful rendering of the rich allusions in the Latin Missal, but in nicely flowing English.
Studebaker,
Do you speak any other living language fluently other than English?
It is hard to think that you do, otherwise you would be painfully aware of the fact that some words and phrases just cannot be translated literally from one tongue to another.
strike the first “other”
“Low blow, Studebaker.”
I have to say, I agree.
John Page, and the team with which he worked, deserve our gratitude and our admiration for the work they did, faithfully following the guidelines the church gave them. Well done, good and faithful servants.
My friends, if I may – liturgical work is done by real people with real dignity and real feelings. It is not a stretch to suppose that others who don’t come to the surface here are also reading what is written here. May nothing I’ve ever done in public ever be subjected to a tiny fraction of the ridicule and animosity to which the old translation has been subjected.
(And the same goes for those who have worked on the new translation – some horrible things have been said here about their work and their competence, too!)
What Jim Pauwels said.
Dear Studebaker,
I went too far in my criticism of you. I am sorry.
Whether my lack of charity merited your riposte, I leave to you to decide.
Kind wishes,
John Page
Well, I am banned here, but my religion teaches that error hath no rights, so it’s a wash.
de gustibus non disputandum does not mean “there’s no disputing about taste.” The verbal form is the passive periphrastic. It denotes compulsion or obligation. It is just plain incorrect to translate it word for word, because the connotation of the passive periphrastic is lost. Which is kind of the point of the whole conversation, isn’t it? (I mean the whole conversation except the parts which are about Rita’s original post.)
At 9:38, Stuey says “It’s not a sign of seriousness to make fun of ‘every single precious Latin word,’ as if we’re just talking about an occasional article or something … ” Hey, Stuey, Latin doesn’t have articles. Greek has a definite article; Latin has neither a definite or indefinite article. That’s on about page, um, zero of Allen and Greenough.
Bradley’s Arnold specifically recommends (section 50, on about page two) that when translating from English into Latin, one should consider substituting “and” for the relative pronoun. His example is translate Filium vidi qui haec mihi narravit as “I saw his son, and he told me this news.” If the relative can be introduced in place of “and” when going from English to Latin, it follows that sometimes “and” must be put back in for the relative when going from English to Latin.
We don’t do much for Advent around these quarters. We go to some communal penance service, and that’s more or less it. Most of the festive symbols (the tree, the creche, the carols, the cookies) appear just before Christmas (and stay until Epiphany). Since we’re not big on shopping either, this is also a time to avoid the stores, because of the crowds.
“One comparison I like to make is that — although it’s a mature, adult English — (the translation) is a tiny bit like children’s literature, because in good children’s literature, every couple of pages there’s probably a word the children don’t understand, that expands their knowledge, and they have to either gather the meaning from the context or enquire about the meaning.” — Cardinal Pell, president of Vox Clara
The same cardinal, in his February letter to bishops of the English speaking church urging them to study the new Missal, cited the following from Liturgiam authenticam: “a flowing vernacular text suitable to the rhythm of popular prayer”–as a goal of the new translation.
Felapton: I will boot you again if you even sneeze in the direction of scatological humor.
Stuart: You neglected to admit your error in claiming “mea culpa” was “completely omitted” from the 1973 translation. Are you paying attention at Mass? Kudos to John Page for his classy response to your nasty little dig.
John Page —
I am humbled by your response. I too apologize for using too-rough language here and there.
Grant — the comparison to children’s literature is a good one. I just got done reading George MacDonald’s “The Princess and the Goblin” to my children, and if people think it’s difficult understanding the new translation, try reading a 19th-century children’s book. Whew. I had to paraphrase sometimes just so I could understand it myself.
Grant — you’re right. I momentarily forgot that “mea culpa” was not left out entirely, but was merely drastically shortened and moved somewhere different to replace a word that was, in fact, left out.
But my point there still stands: most of the people complaining about stuff like the Confiteor or the Gloria, etc., are not motivated by the quality of the English, but by their discomfort at finally seeing what the Roman Missal actually says.
How do you know?
But my point there still stands: most of the people complaining about stuff like the Confiteor or the Gloria, etc., are not motivated by the quality of the English, but by their discomfort at finally seeing what the Roman Missal actually says.
My discomfort comes from not being able to participate in a Mass celebrated in my own English language – instead I am presented with a mixture of English words and Latin compositional style that produces sentences that I would never write and words i would never choose. It’s a great distraction during Mass.
I don’t blame that on any of the people who worked on the translations at the ICEL. I thank them for making it work as well as it does – but the problem was created as soon as Liturgiam Authenticam was issued and they had to work within its constraints and under the micromanagement of Rome and Vox Clara
I can deal with it but I have a great feeling of loss.
Because there’s no other possibility, Grant — I can understand the objection that some of the longer and more complicated sentences end up being problematic, but there is no conceivable objection to saying the full “mea culpa” line or saying “spirit,” other than dislike for the Roman Missal itself.
Read the major critiques of the new translation, Stuart. You’re presenting a caricature of them here. Besides, of course one can object to the lack of parity in “the Lord be with you…and with your spirit” without disliking “the Roman Missal” itself, whatever that means.
Would the defenders of the new trans explain why the following proposal is not far, far better: http://www.associationofcatholicpriests.ie/2011/11/liturgical-resource-for-celebrants/
The temple police may have conniptions, but better to offend them than insult the People of God.
As for the bishops, they have custard pie on their face, with even Colbert and fans giggling at them, and they will soon be pathetically grateful to celebrants who can bring this embarrassing farce to a close.
I am not a defender of the new “translation” but I would say the proposal is not better because the mass does not belong to the priest. It is unjust to the people who attend for him to force them to be pawns in clerical factionalization and one-up-manship.
Joseph O’Leary, we all sympathize with your predicament. It must be exceedingly painful for a classical scholar and professor of English literature to have to hear himself reading this sort of uninspired, sporadically-coherent dreck. But the fight is over and you lost. Sometimes you get the bear. Sometimes the bear gets you.
The last week, the abrupt transition from anodyne pretension to incoherent banging noises reminds me of nothing so much as the Descent into Nibelheim from Rheingold. But then, a lot of things about this papacy remind me of a descent into Nibelheim.
Well, it was fun while it lasted. Bye again, Felapton.
Read the major critiques of the new translation, Stuart. You’re presenting a caricature of them here. Besides, of course one can object to the lack of parity in “the Lord be with you…and with your spirit” without disliking “the Roman Missal” itself, whatever that means.
Grant, if you read what I said, I was specifically referring to complaints about the response “and with your spirit,” the Confiteor, etc., not complaints about occasional prayers that seem awkward in syntax or pronoun references. As to those parts of the mass, the new translation simply translates the Roman Missal accurately, for the first time, and there’s nothing remotely wrong with the English syntax in those parts.
Thus, for example, if one objects to a supposed “lack of parity” in the response “and with your spirit,” that by definition means that one dislikes what the Roman Missal says. As you cannot deny, the Roman Missal simply does not have the “parity” that you might wish were there.
Some objections are undoubtedly to the Missal rather than the translation. Some might object to spirit in English as different from spiriting Latin, but those objections are few.
Mea culpa is another matter. The triple repetition is marred by “grievous”, which gives it a servile tone not found in the Latin. The Latin is more detached, and includes maxima in the third repetition to evoke the ‘some,more,most’ progression. The English use of grief in this context, a complete departure from the Latin, colors the repetition and the whole confession.
Stuart,
So you’re walking back your original, sweeping judgment that critics who complain–or, as you put it, “whine”–about certain restored Latin terms dislike the Roman Missal entirely. Good. Why are some with a more conservative temperament so perplexed by Catholics who are frustrated by several of the changes in the new translation? For nearly forty years Catholics have been speaking these prayers. Is “because it’s in the Latin” a good enough explanation for “and with your spirit”? Is it so strange for some people to ask, “What about my spirit? Why doesn’t the priest say, ‘The Lord be with your spirit?’”
I haven’t seen any serious criticism of the kind you keep mentioning. If you could point me in the direction of some, I’d be grateful.
“Is “because it’s in the Latin” a good enough explanation for “and with your spirit”? ”
To my mind, a better explanation is that St. Paul ends several of his epistles with a similar blessing. One merit of the new translation is that it makes clearer that scriptural connotation. As with some of the other changes we’ve been discussing, the change does place a marginally greater burden on our leaders, particularly at the grassroots, to be able to explain what the Missal means.
Grant —
So you’re walking back your original, sweeping judgment that critics who complain–or, as you put it, “whine”–about certain restored Latin terms dislike the Roman Missal entirely.
I said no such thing. When I referred to people who dislike the Roman Missal, I was referring to specific complaints about the Confiteor. I did not say or imply at all that such people dislike the Roman Missal “entirely” — but they do dislike what the Roman Missal actually says (the full “mea culpa” line) and prefer to have an inaccurate translation over an accurate one. Otherwise, they’d be fine with the new translation. There’s nothing wrong with the English (note to John: “grievous” doesn’t necessarily imply grief, it also means “grave and severe.” Would you be happier if it said, “my fault, my fault, my maximum fault”?)
Also, Grant:
Is it so strange for some people to ask, “What about my spirit? Why doesn’t the priest say, ‘The Lord be with your spirit?’”
It’s not strange at all. But do note: people who ask that, in a spirit of genuine inquiry and not just whining, are not questioning anything whatsoever about the English; they’re asking a question about what the Roman Missal says.
I’m sorry I’ve been unable to comment throughout the thread as it has unfolded, due to other obligations I just haven’t been able to weigh in. Except for a quick comment to clarify the grammatical question about you-who, I’ve watched this from afar.
I’d like to say a couple of things about certain of the translation issues that have come up in the thread. First, I think the qui clauses (what I referred to as “you-who”) are in fact one of the most vexing problems in translating the Missal, and one that doesn’t admit of an easy answer. No matter which way you translate them, something gets lost, istm. The sustained sense of praying that comes in Latin from use of the qui clauses is not captured in declarative sentences. Such can, quite easily, sound didactic, as if we are telling God something about himself, then, in the next sentence, asking him for something. Yet aside from antique language such as is used in the Lord’s Prayer, “God who are…” sounds so strange in English today that you get genuine puzzlement and confusion rather than a sense of sustained prayer when you use such constructions.
Second, Studebaker’s very sharp complaint against the 1973 sacramentary for failing to be literal (something it did not set out to do), while giving the 2011 translation a pass on its many errors (when it DID set out to be literal) seems to me a wee bit dishonest. But of course the problem may be that Studebaker doesn’t know how many errors 2011 contains, or how many times it actually falls short of its own (different) mandate. Xavier Rindfleish at Pray Tell has catalogued numerous errors in the 2011 text. I suggest that anyone who assumes we are now getting a “correct” text should read his comments.
The idea of a totally literal translation has become something of a shibboleth. To illustrate this, I would like to raise an example which has been neglected, and may shed light on some of the more fundamental ironies of the situation. The dismissal: “Ite missa est” is literally translated “Go, she is sent.” Similar to “And with your spirit” no one, but no one, knows what it actually means. There are numerous theories, none of them overwhelming. But there it is. Yet no one has entertained for a moment translating “Ite missa est” as “Go, she is sent.” Thus, why it has now become a matter of faith that the only possible translation of “Et cum spiritu tuo” is “And with your spirit” is unclear to me. If we must have “And with your spirit” because it is what is in the Latin, then we ought also to have “Go she is sent.”
Finally, a comment about Advent. The spirit of Advent has this year perhaps been weighted toward the apocalyptic end. :) Yet I am grateful for those whose comments suggested that the sense of prayer and waiting in hope is not lacking even in (a) the economic crisis, and (b) these challenging times for the church. I continue to find spiritual consolation in the words of the prefaces, and I hope that we may all be found “watching in prayer, our hearts filled with wonder and praise” as we approach this Christmas, one way or another.
Maranatha!
I haven’t seen any serious criticism of the kind you keep mentioning.
Yeah, that’s the point. Overwhelmingly, criticism of “and with your spirit” or “mea culpa” isn’t serious, it’s just people with sour grapes over not having the inaccuracies to which they’d become accustomed.
Second, Studebaker’s very sharp complaint against the 1973 sacramentary for failing to be literal (something it did not set out to do)
Boy, is that ever an understatement. Not only did the translation not try to be literal, it was extremely reckless in leaving out important words, seemingly at random.
while giving the 2011 translation a pass on its many errors (when it DID set out to be literal) seems to me a wee bit dishonest.
I assume you’re referring to documents like this: http://www.praytellblog.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/05/Xavier-Rindfleish-Comparing-Received-and-Final1.pdf
Is the new translation perfect? Of course not. But the criticisms I’ve seen are nitpicking at errors that are trivial compared to the whoppers in the old translation.
Following up on that last sentence, the following comment expresses perfectly what I was trying to say: http://wdtprs.com/blog/2010/10/liberals-finally-defend-liturgiam-authenticam/#comment-231228
Grant, are you insane? Is everybody forbidden to cyberbully your cyberbully or just me? Can you even see what’s happening to your site? All these crummy little trolls coming around with their scorn, ridicule, put-downs and trite, stale, thirty-year-old talking points? Why are you sitting there letting this rotten little piece of turd kick the crap out of you and your commenters like this? Have you noticed the turnover in your correspondents, the way brainiac scholars like Joseph Gannon are bugging out disgusted and being replaced by illiterate imbeciles like Stewie?
Do you want to be part of the problem or part of the solution? Do you want to hand over this gigantic, brilliant, two-thousand-year-old intellectual tradition to these bums? Do you want your grandchildren to go to mass in a Church where nobody knows a passive periphrastic from an ablative absolute? Do you think they can even keep a Church alive on their corrupt, politicized, ideological faux-devout agenda? Do you know a lot of Churches that have perdured for more than a generation on a shrunken remnant of a vestige of a shred of a theology which concerns itself with nothing but sex and silly clothing and expresses itself in nothing but simplistic repetitive playground insults?
Why are you even arguing with this creep? Are you afraid of your Archbish? Just take a coffee break, Grant, and let me lob a few darts back at him. When the Archbish calls Paul to complain, you can say your inbox was so full you didn’t see if for a day or two. Tell him you’re eminently sorry and will never let it happen again. Just sneak in the “eminently” and it will subliminally mollify him, trust me.
“Boy, was that an understatement (sneer) … just people with sour grapes (titter) … no conceivable objection other than dislike of the Roman Missal itself (nose wrinkle.)” Do you really think “Tighties like Stu” is more offensive than that?
At the link to Fr. Zuhlsdorf’s page that Studebaker linked a few comments above, one Henry Edwards posted a valuable comparison that highlights something that I hadn’t realized until recently: there are already two different versions of the post-Liturgiam Authenticam translation, a 2008 edition and a 2010 edition. The latter is what was introduced in our parishes this past Sunday.
Why two different versions already? I believe the 2008 translation was produced via the process prescribed since Vatican II: ICEL produced the translation, the English-speaking bishops conferences reviewed, amended and ultimately approved it, and sent it up the line to Rome for a recognitio.
As I understand it, rather than returning the 2008 edition with the recognitio, Rome instead returned it with very substantial emendations. The message delivered to the English speaking countries by Rome, apparently as understood by everyone involved at all levels the process, was, “Thanks for the effort. Use this instead.” The PrayTell blog has documented these emendations in great detail (I’ve sampled some of their analysis but haven’t read it in exhaustive depth).
The emendations introduced by Rome in 2010 vary so significantly from what the English speaking conferences submitted in 2008 that it seems correct to refer to it as an entirely different translation of the same edition of the Roman Missal.
Here is the comparison that Henry Edwards provided to the same prayer, the prayer after Communion for 1st Sunday of Advent, that we’ve already analyzed in a previous thread. The advantage of what I’m pasting here is that both the 2008 and 2010 versions of the translation are provided side-by-side (figuratively speaking). (Mr. Edwards also provided yet another translation, entitled “WDTPRS”. This is Fr. Zuhsdorf’s hyper-literal translation of the Latin original. The comment in square brackets immediately below it that begins “Hang on …” is an interjection by Fr. Zuhsdorf, explaining that his is not intended to be used in liturgies).
MR 2002
Prosint nobis, quaesumus, Domine,
frequentata mysteria, quibus
nos, inter praetereuntia ambulantes,
iam nunc instituis amare caelestia
et inhaerere mansuris.
WDTPRS
We beg You, O Lord, may they be profitable for us,
these oft celebrated sacramental mysteries, by which
You established that we, walking amidst the things that are passing away,
would now in this very moment love heavenly things
and cleave to the things that will endure.
[Hang on! I was very clear in my series of articles that I was NOT... NOT... trying to come up with LITURGICALLY USEFUL versions of the prayers. I was being literal for the sake of cracking open the text. Some people have taken my literal version out of the context of the articles and then criticized them for failing to be something they were never intended to be.]
2010
May these mysteries, O Lord,
in which we have participated, profit us, we pray,
for even now, as we walk amid passing things,
you teach us by them to love the things of heaven
and hold fast to what endures.
2008
May the mysteries we have celebrated
profit us, we pray, O Lord, for even now,
as we journey through this passing world,
you teach us by them to love the things of heaven
and hold fast to what will endure.
1973
Father, may our communion
teach us to love heaven.
May its promise and hope
guide our way on earth.
[All that follows in this comment is Jim P commenting again :-)]
I would point out, first, that the 2008 translation avoids the ambiguity in the antecedent to the pronoun that plagues the 2010 edition, a problem we’ve already discussed pretty extensively in this forum. “Them” in the 2008 prayer can only refer to the only plural noun that precedes it, “mysteries”.
I also note that the 2008 prayer ends in the future tense: “… what will endure”, a point on which it is in agreement with Fr. Zuhlsdorf’s mechanical effort. Assuming that Fr. Zuhlsdorf is competent in Latin tenses (I am not), the 2010 prayer’s present-tense rendering, “what endures” seems to be in error.
In my opinion, this brief comparison supports what PrayTell has marshalled a good deal of additional evidence illustrate: the 2008 translation was considerably more faithful to the translation principles required by Liturgiam Authenticam than the 2010 edition which Rome has bequeathed on us. Thus, we are in the curious position that Rome has overridden Rome’s translation principles. I’ve asked before, and I’ll ask again: is Liturgiam Authenticam already a dead letter?
Felapton –
Do you realize that you are one of the worst name-callers who ever shows up here? Your accusations just make things worse, inspiring, as they do counter-snark. Just look at your extremely obnoxious name-calling in that last post: cyberbully, rotten little piece of turd (!), illiterate imbeciles, faux devout, creep.
Grow up. This isn’t the playground.
Felapton: I appreciate the concern, but go away and don’t come back, or we will have to take more intrusive measures.