www.byzcath.org Forums Faith & Christian Life The Christian East & West Latin Rite Post-Vatican II

There would be no problem the people would take the responses designated to the server.

Not all the responses designated to the server were actually intended for the people, originally.

"But, Stuart, surely you're not saying that the Novus Ordo is a great deal like the pre-Schism Roman Rite?"

No. The resemblance is pretty superficial, plus there are elements of the Novus Ordo, such as the multiple anaphorae, that are pure innovations. As I said, the project got hijacked at an early point. That's not to say they could not go back and fix it. Properly celebrated, it is a perfectly good and reverent Eucharistic liturgy. I just think it happens to be an "artifact", and not part of the organic development of the Roman rite.

"Stuart, forgive me for being so thickheaded, but I'm having trouble understanding why it would be so difficult to ascertain which parts of the Mass belong to the people and which to the priest. It seems fairly clear, and it is done constantly in the vast majority (I believe) of places using the Traditional Mass today."

Here I will have to defer to those who have made it their speciality. It is my general impression, though, that to make the Trindentine rite consistent with Sacrosanctum concilium would result in something that looks rather different from the Tridentine rite. And I suspect that would make as many people angry who are angry with the Novus Ordo now.

At risk of sounding cold, why should the latin church care to make it palpable to the eastern church? Does the Orthodox church worry about what the west thinks of them? This is why, as a Catholic, I have the choice of which rite I want to celebrate. As Orthodox, there is no choice.

I believe the Foot Prayers were recited quietly while the congregation / choir was chanting the Introit. Are there any other examples you know of?

"At risk of sounding cold, why should the latin church care to make it palpable to the eastern church? "

Understand that the original intent of Pope John XXIII was to hold a reunion council, but he was advised that the gulf between the Eastern and Western Churches was to great, and that the Latin Church was in great need of reform before a reunion council could be considered. Vatican II was that reform council.

After forty-odd years, memories dim, but it must be understood that liturgically the world back then was very different than it is today. The Latin rite had diverged significantly from the patristic understanding of what liturgy was and what it did, and the Vatican II liturgical reforms were intended primarily to restore that understanding (how well it worked is another question). The intent was not to make the Latin rite more "Eastern", but the Eastern Churches had retained elements of the common liturgical patrimony that the West had lost, so any restoration of that patrimony would naturally look "Eastern" to those raised in the Tridentine Church.

Some things that were done probably were in conscious imitation of the Eastern Churches, without regard for the liturgical tradition of the West. The most obvious examples are the multiple Eucharistic prayers--a major break with the tradition of the Latin Church--and the inclusion in some of those Eucharistic prayers of an explicit anaphora (not present in the Roman Canon). When you consider, though, that the Orthodox had for decades responded to Latin polemics about their "removal" of the Filioque from the Creed (as everybody now admits, it was never there) by claiming the Latins had suppressed the epiclesis in the Roman Canon (likewise, it was never there), perhaps this is understandable.

"This is why, as a Catholic, I have the choice of which rite I want to celebrate. As Orthodox, there is no choice."

My dear Theologos, nobody belongs to a rite. You belong to a Church, which follows a certain rite. In the patristic age, the great Churches were often multi-ritual; e.g., the Italo-Greek dioceses of southern Italy were always Byzantine, while there were Latin parishes under the jurisdiction of the Patriarchate of Constantinople. After the schism, both sides became less tolerant of ritual diversity, and it was only with the greatest difficulty that the Italo-Greek parishes survived, while on the other side, the Latin parishes disappeared entirely (as they would have in any case, once Constantinople fell).

Today, as an Orthodox, you do have a choice, albeit a limited one, in the Western Rite Vicarate of the Antiochian Orthodox Church, and various Western Rite Orthodox groups in Europe.

False triumphalism is not becoming.

All this about liturgical development makes one wonder just how much development, in what direction, is acceptable.

Alexis

Actually, we Orthodox have a choice in respect to length of service. Slavonic services are usually longer than Arabic or Greek services. They are also harder on the knees especially in those Russian parishes where stone floors are preferred to pews.

Thats true.

Alexis,

Any genuine liturgical development has to meet certain criteria, such as:

• Is it conducive to worship?
• Is it in keeping with tradition?

I had thought of adding "is it based on sound theology?" to this list, but I feel that if a development really meets the other two criteria, it will meet that one as well.

Naturally, there will always be diversity of opinion as to what is or isn't conducive to worship, or what is or isn't in keeping with tradition. Nevertheless, I am not of the opinion that liturgy is something fundamentally unchangeable.


Peace,
Deacon Richard

I suppose it depends on what one means by "fundamentally".

Fr. Serge

A interesting article by Dr. Phil Blosser @ Pertinacious Papist


Friday, May 08, 2009
Revisiting the AmChurch Novus Ordo

After more than a year of assisting exclusively at Extraordinary Form Masses on Sundays, a Mass I have come to love, I had two occasions last summer to revisit the Roman Rite in its Ordinary Form in a large suburban Catholic parish -- the same parish on both occasions, both Sundays. The following are my observations.

I begin with the positive. The church operates a Catholic school. Together they form a large, sprawling physical plant. The Masses are well attended. When you walk into the church, you are greeted by holy water fonts at the entrance, a prominently displayed crucifix above the altar, candles, an identifiable Tabernacle, baptismal font, and pews with kneelers. The pews quickly fill as the opening hymn begins. There are families and individuals of all ages, and many children, from toddlers to teens. The choir is large and reasonably well-trained, and lodged in a loft at the rear of the church. The priest processes in behind a crucifer, two servers, and a lector, kisses the altar and begins Mass straightaway with the Sign of the Cross. There are no clowns. There are no bongos, no electric guitars. There is no dancing in the aisles. The homily is recognizably Christian and notably earnest and sincere in tone; and the people visibly like their priest.

I proceed, next, not to the negative, but to the ambiguous. One question that keeps recurring to me is this: What about this religious rite and ritual would be recognizably Catholic to someone who didn't know what it was beforehand? There is no question about its being Christian. Yet many of these things -- the crucifix, the procession, the altar, the candles, the Nicene Creed, the kneeling, the filing up to receive communion -- I have seen in Episcopal, Lutheran, and even Presbyterian churches.

First of all, the acts of genuflecting and overt references to "sacrifice" ("Pray, my brothers and sisters, that our sacrifice ...") would narrow it down to either a Catholic or Episcopal (Anglican) liturgy, since the Episcopalians also genuflect and the Episcopal liturgy also refers obliquely to "sacrifice" ("... a full, perfect, and sufficient sacrifice, oblation, and satisfaction, for the sins of the whole world"), and there is no way this spartan rite could possibly be taken for Eastern Orthodox.

Second, the only external signs by which this event could be decisively identified as Catholic, apart from the overt references to things Catholic in the homily, it seems to me, are the references to the Pope and local bishop in the Eucharistic Prayers, and the visible presence of the Tabernacle with the reserved Sacrament. These one would not generally find anywhere but in a Catholic church.

I proceed, finally, to the negative. If nothing else identified this place and this event as recognizably Catholic to someone already familiar with contemporary American Catholicism, all doubt would be banished by the withering ugliness of the architecture, the sloppiness of dress, the sheer shabbiness of the half-improvised liturgical form, the hideous banality of hymns, the utter lack of decorum and unmistakable note of tawdry casual chumminess struck throughout the event. For better or worse, this is what the vast majority of contemporary Catholics call home.

During the entrance procession, the priest stops to shake hands and talk with people along the aisle several times en route to the altar, patting a couple of backs. Crucifer and servers slouch down the aisle in sneakers and jeans, vested in what look like Halloween costume sheets wrapped around them. Some people show up in what looks like beach attire. Several little kids run around the aisles throughout the liturgy. During the hymns, the choir sings the usual hidebound Haugen and Haas offerings, but virtually no one in the congregation sings. Participation seems to mean showing up and sitting back, like a casual spectator.

During the Presentation of the Gifts, those who bring up the gifts join with the priest in saying his prayers over the gifts: "... It will become for us the bread of life. ... It will become our spiritual drink," before returning to their pews. The priest seems to have an allergy against using masculine pronouns, even for God. One hears the politicized response: "Let us give God [not 'Him'] thanks and praise." As he says, "Take this, all of you, and drink from it," the priest lifts the cup (Could this be called a "chalice"?) and gestures with it, holding it out to each side of the congregation expressively, punctuating his words with dramatic pauses and modulating his voice for emphasis. We see him looking out over the congregation. He looks at us. We look at him. The focus is clearly on we who are gathered here and what he is doing for us. If there is any doubt about this, it vanishes in the forest of joined sweaty palms during the Our Father, and cacophony that erupts, recess-like, during the Rite of Peace, the presider himself walking down the aisle, presiding over the shaking of hands all around.

Momentarily, the priest is surrounded by no less than eleven Extraordinary Ministers of Holy Communion, looking for all the world like an out-of-place gentleman in a kitchen full of women. People soon begin shuffling forward (or to the back of the church, depending on where they are seated), to receive Communion. How does one receive here? Of course we have been reminded by Rome that we have the liturgical right to kneel; but where does one kneel here, amidst this confusion of milling people and Eucharistic Ministers? Nobody kneels, and neither do I. What's the point? Do I want to call attention to myself or make a political statement? I just want to receive Jesus. I already feel compromised by being here. I feel disappointed in myself and by the whole experience.

About one fourth of the congregation leaves for the parking lot right after Communion. Maybe half remain until the last verse of the recessional hymn. The words of Martin Mosebach come to mind: "I go to church to see God and come away like a theater critic." Throughout the Mass I find that my focus is constantly diverted. Like Mosebach, I just want to "see God." I want to witness the Sacrifice of Christ, and to receive Him. Yet in countless ways, the elements of the Mass conspire to divert my attention away from Him, and towards incidentals -- towards those who walk into their pews without genuflecting, towards those wearing what looks like beach attire, toward the chummy bonhomie of the pastor, toward his unusual gestures and voice modulations, towards the politicized gender-bending of words, toward the Eucharistic Minister who doesn't seem to know what to do with my mouth open and tongue stuck out at her, toward the unseemly distasteful clutteredness of it all.

Yes, I know, Jesus is here too, just as he was in the stable surrounded by the braying of asses and smelly droppings of cows and goats. Yet I wonder: would it have been harder to find Him and worship Him there than here? Is this the best we can do? For the Lord of Heaven, our Maker and Redeemer?