Latin in the Mass
Before we speak of Latin in the Mass, we must be sure never to call it the Latin Mass. The Traditional Mass, not made a mainstream part of Catholic life by Pope Benedict’s decree Summorum Pontificum, is not distinguished by the fact that it is in Latin (though that is one of its principal characteristics) but that it is traditional. Since 1969, the Novus Ordo (the New Mass with which the Catholic world is most familiar) was always permitted to be said in Latin. No permission needed. Why? Because the Church has always considered the Latin language to be the normative tongue for not only the Holy Mass, but also as the vehicle of her most solemn dogmatic pronouncements as well as all her official business. Thus, in Sacrosanctum Concilium (the Second Vatican Council’s document on the Liturgy) we read: The use of the Latin language… is to be preserved in the Latin rites (#36, n.1). Nevertheless care must be taken to ensure that the faithful may also be able to say or sing together in Latin those parts of the Ordinary of the Mass which pertain to them (#54).
Some may ask the logical question: If the Church has always taught that Latin is the normative liturgical language, why isn’t it in every parish? This is an involved question, better left for another time. For now, Pope Benedict has fixed our attention on a happier future course, one more perfectly aligned with the Church’s constant tradition. A more fruitful question should be: Why the Church’s millennial affection for a dead tongue – Latin?
Our answer should be framed by a remark made by G. K. Chesterton in his little-read book, The Resurrection of Rome. He writes, “Rome is a place where everything is buried, and nothing is lost. A city full of tombs, and yet full of life. The mortuary images do not carry the savor of mortality, but rather immortality.” The Latin language operates similarly. It is a buried language, precisely so nothing may be lost. Its meanings, nuances, connotations, and suggestiveness, are all frozen, like a prehistoric insect in amber. When it is used, it delivers as unambiguous a meaning as a silver trumpet. It stands above time, so that it can speak to the men of any time. For a religion whose business is announcing to ever-changing men the never-changing truths of God, Latin is an indispensable tool. Otherwise, her changeless truths would suffer the wear of changing times. For that, man would be all the poorer.
No more important words are uttered than the words of Holy Mass. Shouldn’t the Church strive mightily to keep them right? Keeping them right requires a preservative language which guarantees that those words will always stay alive. Only living words can infuse life into living souls.
An even more profound reason obligates Latin in the mind of Mother Church. The Holy Mass sit he work of Christ redeeming mankind from the grip of hell. No action on earth can compare. When the Mass is celebrated, all of heaven appears, history changes, God stirs souls, created reality is touched to its foundations. For something so extraordinary, all that surround it should be extraordinary. That should start with its language. For such an unusual act, only an unusual language will do.
Saint Augustine described this as In Dominico eloquio (“in the Lord’s style of language”). Romano Guardini was referring to a strange language bespeaking the strangely exquisite world of the supernatural (to which we enter when we participate in the Holy Mass( when he wrote in The Spirit of the Liturgy “[the Holy Mass] create(s) a suniverse brimming with fruitful spiritual life.” The eminent Patristics scholar, Robert Louis Wilken, expresses it dramatically: “Christianity is a culture in its own right; the Church must insist on its own way of speaking… If we forget how to speak our language, we lose something of ourselves.”
Still the persistent question: But I can’t understand it! But you can! In the very inscrutability of the Latin language, every man – young and old, educated and illiterate – understands the sublimity of Christ saving mankind on the altar. The very uncommonness of the Latin transports the soul into the uncommon act of God – coming down from heaven in the form of a small host to save us from our sins. This is the towering truth that makes our souls explode in wonder. Of course, a Catholic may wish to follow every word. For that he picks up his missal. There he will find appropriately majestic translations of those jeweled sentences shaped by thousands of years of Catholic tradition, like sand compressed by time into pearls.
But beware. Reading the missal will distract you from gazing at the ornate spectacle of the priest summoning God to take up His throne upon our altar. You see, a Catholic may not understand any of the Latin words, but that very Latin imprints upon the Mass the transcendent mystery which helps man to completely understand. Not only does the Catholic understand, but he is stirred, moved, shaken, and stunned. Heaven is before his very eyes.
What more is there to understand?
Latin Mass Magazine | Christmas 2017
