An Embarrassment of Riches: The Ancient Mass Explained for Men in Strange Times
Strange times have befallen us. Strange, indeed, when, once, millenia of Catholics saw the details of the Traditional Mass as privileged portals to the Eternal, now suddenly are viewed by not a few Catholics as an insufferable burden. To name just a few: The Mass’ majestic and sonorous silence, the priest facing God in earnest pleading, and a Latin language creating the thick air of mystery and salvific transcendence. But this distaste rose not spontaneously from the Catholic soul, but was the systematic project of a professional theological class that can only be aptly described in the fitting obloquy of W.H. Auden, as “low and dishonest”. Truly, this corrupting enterprise was the consummate trahison des clercs.
Hostage to the deracinated clique of conciliar Liturgists, ordinary Catholics were meticulously tutored to prefer dining on the dry sands of secularism than the haute cuisine of the supernatural. So in these strange times, truths once as obvious as breathing seem now utterly inscrutable. Hence, the obligation to present them afresh. George Orwell profoundly observed of our strange times: “We have no sunk to a depth at which the restatement of the obvious is the first duty of intelligent men”.
To that important task, let us review some rich details that festoon the grandeur of the Ancient Mass.
Consider the subject of ad orientem (priest facing God). It goes without saying (or perhaps these days it does not) that the Holy Mass is about Christ – not us. Catholic common sense, right? Would that it were so. Only recently a priest friend was preaching a sermon about the very subject of the Mass being essentially about Christ. After his sermon, an eighty-ish couple approached him, pillars of his parish. Without irony, they remarked to the priest that they had never heard that the Mass is about Christ. I am sure that the dear couple meant to say that it was so long since they heard it, it seemed as though they had never heard it before. Tis sad, isn’t it?
Of course, the Mass is about Christ – His sacrifice on Cavalry (in an unbloody fashion) for the redemption of the human race. That truth is knitted into every square inch of the Traditional Mass. Of all the gestures that dramatize that mystery, the priest facing God at the altar is paramount. In that posture the Church establishes for the priest a certain anonymity. Clearly, the faithful recognize that it is Father So-and-So, but they actually see very little of Father-So-and-So. He is not talking to them because is talking to God. It is as though we are overhearing the intimate conversation between Christ (in the person of the priest) and His Father.
This anonymity is critical for the Mass. It pointedly ignores the personality of the priest and bows only to the personality of Christ. We are not beholding Father So-and-So’s face – with all the particularities, likable or not, that go with Father So-and-So. Holy Mass is not the time for that. At Mass we seek to behold only the face of the Savior. That Divine Face becomes known to us in the stunning unfolding of the words and gestures of Mass itself. It is only through the anonymity of the priest that the full presence of Christ is revealed. The Baptist’s words echo through our mind, He must become more and I become less. That is what we crave. This is what the Church knows that we deserve.
For almost ninety percent of the Traditional Mass the priest speaks in hushed tones, seeming to the faithful blessed silence. Not exactly silence for the altar boys and those standing within inches of the priest. But that is unimportant; for all intent and purposes the faithful at Mass find the priest wrapped in a sacred silence. What is important is that all of us know that, like Moses on Sinai, the priest (in persona Christi – in the person of Christ) ascends the altar to speak and offer Himself to His Father. It is the supreme cultic conversation of Lover and Beloved. It is no wonder that such a sublime intimacy is cast by Mother Church in the most hushed exchanges. Yet, through that very silence bellows the staggering reality of the Mystery. Here no Catholic can be mistaken about a uniquely striking moment occurring before his very eyes. A moment that human eyes can find no other place on earth. Once more, as He did two thousand years ago, Our Lord is laying His sacrificed Body before the throne of His Beloved Father. All of it happening – for us. For us!
This silence is indeed unsettling, especially in our own culture where sounds (noise?) surround us like permanent membrane. It leaves us addicts – unable to live without it. This is what T.S. Elliot meant in his poem Burnt Norton, when he writes, we live “distracted from distraction”. Modern man so fills his soul with the roiling superficialities of life that the most beautiful ones never have a chance to be heard. For that there must be silence. Silence acts as a ladder whose rungs lead the feet of the soul down to its depths. Only in that place can it properly do what it must – consider, ponder, embrace, and relish the foundational Truth of existence. At that depth, however, there is only the sight of your life and Christ. It can be terrifying. Out of cowardice or fear, most men settle for distraction. Anything to get their minds off the only thing the mind should be about.
Next time you attend the Traditional Mass, sealed by the splendid silence of the priest, do not think you are hearing nothing. Recognize that it is through that very silence that you can hear everything.
Latin Mass Magazine | 2018
