Since Pope Francis’ death last week, Catholics have been actively discussing his legacy. Those on the progressive end of the spectrum praise him for his openness toward the divorced and remarried, immigrants, women, and members of the gay community. Many conservative Catholics regard his papacy as a wholesale departure from doctrine and tradition in favor of modern influences. An extreme faction even questions his legitimacy as pope, promoting theories about the forced resignation of his predecessor, Pope Benedict XVI.
While I don’t agree with many of the claims on the right, I have been a member of a traditional church community over the past six or seven years. By traditional, I mean we celebrate the traditional Latin Mass (TLM) that existed for centuries before the reforms of Vatican Council II (1962-1965). This came about, oddly enough, out of a desire to learn Portuguese.
I wanted to learn the language after taking trips to Brazil for work and discovered an ornate, red-tiled Portuguese parish nearby with bell towers and decorative parapets. One day, I discovered that the parish also offered the TLM. I had studied Latin in college and remember, though dimly, the pre-conciliar Mass from my childhood. I received Communion, Reconciliation, and Confirmation in the old rites and can recall the Requiem Masses held at my parochial school in honor of Pope John XXIII and President Kennedy. Out of curiosity, I decided to check it out.
It didn’t take long for me to drop the Portuguese Mass entirely in favor of the Latin one. Those familiar with the current interest in the TLM among mainstream Catholics may not be surprised to hear that I was drawn to the beauty of the ritual texts and prayers, the reverence with which the Eucharist is treated, the polyphonic singing of the choir, and the slow, deliberate rhythm of worship. In fact, its repetitive nature enhanced rather than detracted from my participation, which wasn’t at all what I expected.
Since then, however, I have become aware of a problem that goes beyond the liturgy. It concerns the underlying ecclesiology of the community—how it sees itself as Church. The pre-conciliar liturgy, reintroduced to Catholics today, often carries with it the same worldview, relationships, and governance structures that existed before the Council. That is, a 1962 liturgy brings with it a 1962 Church. Depending on which ecclesiology you favor—Vatican I (1869-1870) or Vatican II—that may or may not be a good thing.
The question is whether the older ecclesiology is sustainable, especially in the twenty-first century as cultural values shift and society struggles to keep pace with technology. For instance, what constitutes a person has become an issue, which would have been unthinkable not that long ago. And the development of AI directly influences our understanding of consciousness and human freedom.
While post-conciliar parishes have their share of problems, lay empowerment and participation are vital. I myself taught in a graduate ministry program that prepared lay leaders, religious, and priests to work together for the successful operation of their parishes while still recognizing roles and responsibilities, often canonically mandated. The ecclesiology in this context called everyone to participate by virtue of their baptism.
A 1962 liturgy brings with it a 1962 church. Depending on whether you’re a pre-conciliar or post-conciliar type, that may or may not be a good thing.
And therein lies the rub. The call to participate fully in the TLM is by ordination. The laity is said “to attend” Mass. Such a focus doesn’t exclude them, but it does relegate them to the role of observer as the priest offers the sacrifice. However, the laity has value through its experience in the world. This was certainly evident with the building committee I served on, which was made up of men and women well-versed in finance and commercial real estate.
In this sense, I believe a new ecclesiology is needed for traditional communities, one derived from and leading back to the TLM but based on ecclesial models developed after Vatican II. This can be done in such a way that the laity flourishes while the traditional structures remain intact. My experience tells me that these do not have to be opposed. It may be a matter of integrating the best of both instead of remaining entrenched in either.
There is an even more fundamental question related to personhood. Underlying any ecclesiology is a Christian anthropology and the challenge of living a life devoted to Christ in community with others, regardless of the decade or century in which that community exists. While the deposit of faith doesn’t change, the faithful do.
The TLM is not a sentimental artifact lacking relevance for people today. Francis disparagingly referred to it in terms of “grandma’s lace,” but it can speak to a new world distinct from 1962. The task now is to balance the sacrificial nature of the pre-conciliar liturgy with the active participation of the laity, which was one of the goals of the long-standing liturgical movement that resulted in Vatican II.
In the end, as the Vatican begins the messy and majestic process of settling on a new pope, I feel caught between two councils. Maybe I should just go back to the Portuguese Mass. After all, it’s in a very pretty building.
Image credits: Sins S, Robert Arrington, Getty Images, K. Mitch Hodge, Filip Mishevski. Want more? Go to Robert Brancatelli. The Brancatelli Blog is a member of The Free Media Alliance, which promotes “alternatives to software, culture, and hardware monopolies.”
