Dreading an irreverent and careless implementation of the new missal translation… What do I do?

Q:  Dear Father John, I am looking forward with dread for the new missal translation in our parish. Our priest doesn’t take the liturgy very seriously and, well, I don’t think it is going to be good. Can you provide some practical insight into how I should look at all of this and prepare my heart?  I really care about how we honor Christ in Mass and already struggle a lot with the lack of reverence that I see.

A: First of all, for any of our readers who aren’t familiar with what the new missal translation is, I want to recommend a couple of resources.  The new English translation of the missal (the book containing the prayers, antiphons, and responses of the Mass) goes into action on the First Sunday of Advent, November 27, 2011.  What is this new translation and why is it being instituted and what’s it all about?  Here are some worthy (in my opinion) explanations:  Life Teen’s video; The Bishops’ Conference videos (longer and less flashy than the Life Teen video; EWTN’s discussion with Fr. Mitch Pacwa (hour-long video interview).  And if you prefer to read about it, here are a few of the best resources:

National Catholic Register

United States Conference of Catholic Bishops

Now on to your question.

The Perfect Prayer

Clearly, you care deeply about the Mass, the perfect prayer, the origin of all Christian prayer, and the central act of worship of all time.  Your concern and even anxiety about careless or irreverent celebrations of the Mass come across strongly in your question.  But that concern can work against you.  Even if a priest appears to you to be celebrating the Mass irreverently, the Mass still remains the Mass.  Even if he is sloppy and blasé, the Church is still praying through him and Christ is still offering himself to the Father through him.  And this is really the main point about praying at Mass: it is our objective worship.  Of course we would love to be emotionally (as well as spiritually) uplifted by the external beauty of a papal Mass every day, but even when the externals are sub-par, the reality remains exactly the same.

Room to Grow?

If our devotion to Christ in the Mass, therefore,  is easily disturbed by a sloppy or irreverent priest, then we know that our faith has room to grow.  Are we truly seeking to please God, or are we seeking the sweetness of consolation for ourselves?  If we seek to worship God, then sometimes the less glorious liturgies are even better than the glorious ones.  Not because Christ doesn’t always deserve our very best – he does.  And the liturgy of the Church should shine with reverence and beauty and respect and mystery (this is one of the reasons we have a new translation coming).  But if true worship is about our trusting in God in spite of everything, just as Jesus trusted in his Father on the Cross, then we can actually exercise our trust even more when the externals of a particular celebration of Mass are rather mundane.  To pray devotedly in that situation requires a more mature faith, a stronger faith.  We have to truly believe that God is working through his Church, through his priest, even when the appearance of things seems to say something else.

I am not encouraging priests to be sloppy – every priest will have to answer to God for how he cares for the sacraments.  And believe me, that is a harrowing thought.  But as long as the priest isn’t making up his own Mass or otherwise being sacrilegious – as long as he is celebrating the Church’s Mass, then Christ is truly, objectively there.  And that should be enough for us.

The Mass is not primarily about me.  The Mass is the prayer of the Church, the prayer of Christ.  So if I don’t like my priest’s style, that’s a secondary thing.  The primary thing remains.

Getting Personal

In my personal journey into the Catholic faith, this realization played an important role.  Before being Catholic, when moving into a new area I would shop around to find a church I liked.  When I began to be drawn into the Catholic faith, I realized that Catholics don’t do that – they don’t need to do that.  They just go to their parish.  I still remember moving into a new apartment about a year before officially becoming Catholic.  I was so excited to find out what was to be my parish.  I called up the diocesan office, told them my address, and they told me which parish I was in.  And I went to Mass there.  No shopping required!  What a relief!  The externals, including the notably eccentric style of the priest, were quite different from the beautiful Masses I had attended in Italy during the first stage of my conversion.  And yet, the structure and the substance was the same.  And I knew that by attending that Mass I was plugging into something much bigger than me, much bigger than that particular priest, much bigger than my own preferences and comfort zone.

Preparing Our Hearts

The advent of the new translation of the missal gives us all a chance to renew our deep faith in that which is “much bigger” than all of us.  And this, I think, is the best way to prepare our hearts to receive the new translation: activating anew our faith in God’s action through his Church, through his sacraments, through his very human and very imperfect instruments.  The Mass transcends styles and preferences.  The Mass gives us something we desperately need in today’s world, which is so focused on personal feelings and subjective fulfillment.  It gives us a chance to enter into something not of our own making, and to unite ourselves to an objective act of worship that is Christ’s own prayer, his own sacrifice, his own act of worship, really made present for us – whether or not we happen to feel any spiritual warm-fuzzies, and whether or not we happen to like the way our priest celebrates.

Getting Practical

On a practical note, though, I want to assure you that you don’t need to stay stuck at a dead end.  If the style of celebrating Mass at your parish consistently makes it impossible for you to pray during Mass and to appreciate what is really going on, you are not required to stay there.  The Church only requires that we attend Mass on Sundays and Holy Days, preferably in our own parish.  But we are free to go to other parishes if there is a good reason, or to a nearby monastery or convent.  Likewise, if real and serious liturgical abuses have crept into your parish, you have the right (and the duty) to inform your bishop.  It’s his job to care for the sacraments as celebrated in his diocese, and to assure that the faithful have access to the liturgical life as the Church intends it.

One more thing.  Your question reminds me of a startling quotation from the patron saint of parish priests, St. John Vianney, and I would like to close with it: “There are no bad parish priests; there are only parish priests whose parishioners don’t pray enough for them.”  Please keep praying for us priests!!!

PS: I am sure our readers could also provide some suggestions on how they deal with these challenges in a positive and constructive way…

The New Roman Missal Translation In a Nutshell

Just to be clear, when I say in a “Nutshell,” I am not calling Mark Hart a “nut.” Mark is one of the best modern communicators of our faith. This video is by far the best summary I have seen on the new translation. It was created for teens but the humorous approach should make this interesting for anyone. If you like it, pass this post along to help others gain a better understanding of the changes that are just around the corner.

PS: In anticipation of complaints from those who love the Liturgy as I do, I am most definitely not a fan of how I have seen the so-called “LifeTeen Mass” implemented. However, I believe that Mark’s involvement with Life-Teen will result in significant improvements. The purpose of this post is not to discuss LifeTeen but to rejoice in the new translation… my combox moderation will be consistent with this intent. I pray that all in the English speaking world with be profoundly blessed by this significant improvement in our translation.

Why Genuflect? Kneeling in Mass and Adoration

When a man is proud, he stands tall; his posture reflects his self-perception. When a good man (one who is not suffering with excessive pride) is in the presence of greatness, he knows to humble himself whether it be in posture or expression.  His instinct is to lower himself and he, in some way, knows to acknowledge the greatness before him and to adjust his heart, and height, downward.  The difficulty with modern culture is that without Kings and Queens, we don’t know what to do with this instinct.  As well, we are taught from our youth to be independent, to question authority, to never consider another as more important than we are – never to bring ourselves low as Jesus did when he washed the disciples feet.

The only place in modern western culture (outside of Church) where we still occasionally kneel is when men propose marriage (though it seems even this noble custom is fading).  Why does a man do this?  Because he knows that this posture expresses reverence and love toward his desired bride.  It communicates that he holds her in high esteem and is willing to lower himself to her judgment, to serve her, to honor her.

So, when we kneel in Church the sentiment expressed in this gesture should be in keeping with all of these good instincts. Stop for a moment and imagine if you were suddenly drawn into the presence of the King of Kings.  What would happen to the heart, soul, and body of any person of good-will? Scripture indicates that even holy men are inclined to fall to the ground in the face of Ultimate Holiness or its representatives. Scripture also points out that eventually “every knee shall bow…” (Romans 14:11) whether now, or at the final judgment.

With these perspectives in mind how should we practice kneeling or genuflection in a way that is consistent with our understanding and desire?

It is pretty simple really.  When we are in a Catholic Church, we are in the presence of  the King of Kings; so, we should act like it. In that light, would a sweeping mindless and lighting fast non-committal bend or quick jerk of the knee toward the floor suffice? The key question for all of us really is, what would we do if we really believed what we were in the presence of God Almighty?

As with everything in our lives, we can use our circumstances, our gifts, our work, or any capability we have to bring us closer to God.  The key is the disposition of our hearts and the commensurate exercise of our will. Here’s a proposed approach for the next time we walk into a Church:

1. Approach the sanctuary slowly – don’t rush in to find a seat – instead enter in to worship.
2. Recognize where you are and focus on that reality.  Look to the tabernacle and acknowledge you are before the King of Kings.
3. Move your body in a way that expresses what is real in your heart and mind – or at least what you desire to be real. Stop and kneel – right knee – all the way down to the floor and pause for a second.  Say a prayer honoring Him – the “glory be” is good prayer, or just say “thank you Lord, help me know and honor you.”  Make the sign of the cross, and slowly rise and then kneel again in the pew to further prepare your heart for your encounter with God.

With respect to norms, the Church provides us with several opportunities to practice reverence and prayer in this way before, during, and after each mass (at least for those who are physically able):

Always Before the Blessed Sacrament:

The Ceremonial of Bishops states it beautifully and simply (CB 69).

“A genuflection, made by bending only the right knee to the ground, signifies adoration, and is therefore reserved for the Blessed Sacrament, whether exposed or reserved in the tabernacle…”

Inaestimabile Donum also reflects on this beautiful expression and the related disposition of the heart (ID 26)

“This venerable practice of genuflecting before the Blessed Sacrament, whether enclosed in the tabernacle or publicly exposed, as a sign of adoration, is to be maintained. This act requires that it be performed in a recollected way. In order that the heart may bow before God in profound reverence, the genuflection must be neither hurried nor careless.” (ID 26)

Before and after Mass – It is the norm to genuflect when passing before the Blessed Sacrament in the tabernacle (every time before mass).  The Ceremonial of Bishops (CB 71) says,

“No one who enters a Church should fail to adore the Blessed Sacrament either by visiting the Blessed Sacrament chapel or at least by Genuflecting. Similarly those who pass before the Blessed sacrament genuflect, except when they are walking in procession.”

The simple act of bending the knee, when turned from an empty motion into one that expresses heartfelt reverence, will properly guide our hearts to worship in a way that is personally fruitful and truly pleasing to Him. As well, it will aid in the proper disposition of our hearts to be better prepared to receive the greats gifts He has in store for us in the mass or adoration.

How do I make mass a more positive experience?

Q. Dear Father John, What is the difference between those who find Mass something to be endured and those who find it deeply nourishing, and what does my experience have to do with my own disposition?

A. The short answer to this question is: don’t worry about your experience of Mass, just focus on the Mass. Read on for the long answer.

Underlying this excellent question is a faulty premise: it assumes that “something to be endured” and “deeply spiritually nourishing” are mutually exclusive. But that is not always the case. This is because the level of the spirit is deeper than the level of emotions. In our consumer society, which keeps our emotions titillated and conditions us to think that true spiritual value should always be accompanied by lovely feelings, the distinction between spirit and emotion is almost unrecognizable for many people. But the distinction is real nonetheless.

Think of a good mother whose young child is very sick with a horrible fever. That mother will sacrifice sleep, meals, recreation, exercise – you name it, she’ll sacrifice it, simply in order to stay with, tend, care for, and comfort that child. After three or four days, the mother will be emotionally and physically exhausted; her feelings will not be lovely, but raw. And yet, in the realm of her spirit, she will be profoundly fulfilled and satisfied, because she knows she is doing all she can for her sick child. The spiritual virtue of self-sacrificial love is located at a deeper place than our feelings and emotions. Sometimes spirit and emotion coincide, like on a wedding day, but not always.

The same two levels are at work in our prayer life. Sometimes we feel God’s presence in an emotional way, and it is gratifying. This is a gift of the Holy Spirit, and we should be grateful. But still, the gratifying feelings are not the substance of our prayer. That takes place at a deeper level, where we are exercising our faith, hope, and Christian love by seeking the face of God, adoring and praising him, and renewing our commitment to follow him – regardless of how we feel. Some days when we pray, we spend the whole time fighting distractions or sleepiness, and we don’t feel God’s presence at all. Yet, that prayer, if it was sincere and if we were struggling to seek God’s face and renew our love for him, was just as valid, just as fruitful, and just as pleasing to God as the one during which our emotions were high. In fact, the more difficult prayer may have been even more pleasing to God, because love in a fallen world is always more evident in sacrifice than in enjoyment.

Mass is the same. We know that the holy sacrifice of the Mass is the pinnacle of worship, the perfect prayer. But that doesn’t mean that we will always feel, emotionally, the exaltation. What matters is not our feelings. What matters is the attitude of our mind and will. If we are making an effort to unite ourselves, at the level of our spirit, to the meaning of each part of the Mass, we are giving glory to God and nourishing our souls (and building up the Church), whether we feel exalted or whether we feel bored, distracted, frustrated, angry, or [insert whatever emotion you like].

Therefore, we must dispose ourselves for Mass by stirring up the spiritual desires of a true Christian: to honor God by saying “yes” to him, just as Christ did on the Cross. These desires are expressed beautifully in all the prayers and rubrics of the sacred liturgy. Uniting the attention of our mind and the intention of our will to those prayers and rubrics is our task. We dispose ourselves for that by striving to live each day as Christ would have us, and by arriving to Mass a few minutes ahead of time to recollect ourselves. We should never think that feeling God’s presence in an emotional way is the only evidence that we have disposed ourselves properly for the celebration. We should not pursue a particular emotional experience at Mass. The Mass is not about us; it is about Christ. If God wants us to feel the exaltation, blessed be God. If not, blessed be God. We go there to worship, confident that, because it is the liturgy, it is the highest objective act of worship we can participate in, regardless of how we feel.

This is already too long, but one other point deserves mentioning. The manner in which the liturgy is celebrated can help us focus on Christ, or it can hinder us. Reverential and beautiful demeanor, music, and accoutrements are effective aids to our worship, and they are also signs of our love for God. Yet, they are not the core of the Mass, and we should not treat them as if they were. The soldiers who attended Masses celebrated on the hoods of jeeps near the battlefields of World War II experienced Christ deeply in spite of their grungy surroundings. They experienced him deeply because their daily lives were more in tune with the eternal truths than the latest gossip. The best preparation for Mass is a day-to-day life spent consciously in pursuit of Christ’s Kingdom.

Yours in Christ, Father John Bartunek, LC