"It's a complete insult to half the population!" On the new translation of the Roman Missal

I knew that, sooner or later, I'd end up writing a post about the new translation of Mass. I hoped it wouldn't happen, but I've now reached the stage where I feel it's necessary because I'm hearing a lot of comments like the one in the title of this post.

Originally, this was going to be about one particular phrase in the Consecration, but from numerous...let's call them 'conversations', I've had with fellow Catholics who oppose the new translation, it's clear that they don't save their displeasure for one phrase only. As such, I thought it might be useful to pull together various explanations of the most prominent changes so that you can explain them to the (mostly old) people who make their opinions known to you, and then, as usual, look at some underlying principles which can guide our thinking on the subject.

"And with your spirit" - surely the most noticeable change at Mass for those of us in the pews. Friends have taken to 'keeping score' of how many they get right (I hit all 4 today, without using the card!). Fortunately, there is a very in-depth article about this phrase written by the late Fr Austin Milner OP, but to summarize - praying for the Lord to be with someone's spirit is entirely Biblical; St. Paul signs off his letters to the Galatians and Philippians, and to St. Timothy and Philemon in various ways, but always praying that the the Lord or His grace will be with their spirits. This greeting/prayer is unique in the ancient world to Christianity - "and with your spirit" is therefore one of the most Christian things you can say. So why "and with your spirit"? According to St. Albert the Great, St. John Chrysostom, and more ancient sources, the people of God are praying that the Holy Spirit, the Spirit which gives the graces of Christ's priesthood to mere men, may be with the priest's spirit (soul) as he performs the sacred actions. After all, receiving those priestly graces at ordination works no change in a man's body, but eternally changes his soul, so while he must perform the actions with his body, it is through his spirit that the Holy Spirit works. As Chrysostom puts it: "For he who is there is a man, it is God who works though him. Do not attend to the nature of the one you see, but understand the grace which is invisible. Nothing human takes place in this sacred sanctuary." Finally, in the majority of European translations of the Latin, they have kept this phrasing e.g. "et avec ton esprit" in French. We're all part of a universal i.e. catholic church, and as such, should all at least say the same prays, even if in different languages, right?

The Triumph of Orthodoxy

"Consubstantial" - perhaps the most controversial change to the Nicene Creed, at least for some people. Someone I love dearly told me this morning that this new translation has a lot of "exclusive language" in it, citing this as an example - "people don't understand what Consubstantial means". The implication here is that they did understand what "of one being with the Father" meant, but I wonder how many Catholic Christians, when asked, would be able to give a satisfactory answer regarding the susbstantial unity of Father and Son (and Holy Spirit). Further, it is incredibly patronising to suggest that some people are just too stupid to understand what 'consubstantial' means, and that by its use they are somehow excluded from the liturgy. When I pointed out to her that the problem isn't the word 'consubstantial', it's that we haven't been taught what it means - everyone would be able to understand it, if only someone would explain it to us, she agreed. As with all similar misunderstandings and reservations about this translation, where the Church has fallen short isn't in the translation, it's in the catechesis which should have accompanied it. The blame here lies, not with the Pope, or even most Bishops, who have published booklets and DVDs and all sorts in an attempt to explain what was going on - the blame lies with us in the parishes. When was the last time you heard a priest give a homily on the meaning of 'consubstantial'? Have there been any workshops in your parish to explain, not just what was changing, but why? I didn't think so. (For those of you in this diocese/parish, watch this space).

"Pray brethren" - the phrase which caused the outburst which is the title of this post: "It's a complete insult to half the population!" Undeniably, 'brethren' began as an alternative plural form of 'brother', and was used alongside 'sistren' in the middle ages, and even up to Shakespeare's time. From then on, 'brothers' began to take over as the plural form, and 'sistren' fell out of use completely. 'Brethren' became, by the start of 17th Century, an exclusively religious word, meaning "fellow members of a religious community" without distinction between the sexes e.g. the Plymouth Brethren, a non-denominational sect of 19th Century, comprised of both men and women. Therefore, when the priest says, "Pray brethren" he is undeniably talking to both men and women! What's more, a straw poll of a number of female friends, all under the age of 25, revealed that they were not in the least offended by the word. The man who raised the objection is well into his late 70's. Only the "spirit of Vatican II" generation cares about these things, while the "Second Vatican Council" generation (i.e. us) have a deeper understanding of the meaning, and more important things to worry about.

hunc praeclarum calicem

"this precious chalice" - after the first week of using the new translation, one of the elderly women at my parish asked me what I thought of it. I didn't wax lyrical, but made it clear that I was heartily in favour of it. She had a number of reservations, and this was the one she singled out. Her concerns about this phrasing betrayed a faulty understanding of the Eucharistic celebration, which a couple of priests have told me were all the rage in the 1970s. As such, it's not entirely her fault - this was what she was taught by those she trusted to teach her the truth. So what bothered her about this wording? "I think 'cup' is better because it reminds us that Jesus was sharing an ordinary meal with his friends." Have you ever heard that before? I'd be surprised if not. If one thing is clear from the Gospel accounts of the Last Supper, it's this - it was a highly ritualised, liturgical event. As we know from the Old Testament, there were symbolic foods, special psalms, and other customs which had developed by Our Lord's time (like the Five Questions) associated with celebrating the Passover, and it was participated in by all the people of Israel. It wasn't dinner at a stranger's house on a Thursday night!

"But what about those Gospel accounts?" some might say. "They clearly say 'cup' in 1 Corinthians, Matthew, Mark, and Luke." Well, they say that in most English translations, though not in all. However, an important principle in the liturgy comes into focus because of this logical objection - the liturgy interprets Scripture, and is its own source of theology and teaching. The Church is the preserver and giver of both liturgy and Scripture, and we must remember that the liturgy is the elder of the two (1 Corinthians having been written around 20 years after the institution of the Eucharist). As such, the Church may legitimately emphasise something in liturgy which is implicit, but not necessarily explicit, in the Bible, something Pope Benedict alludes to regarding this exact phrase in this homily from Maundy Thursday [paragraph 7 - "The Roman Canon interprets this psalm..."]. So why "this precious chalice"?

When we say this phrase, we tend to stress "precious chalice" - for us this undoubtedly recalls images of the gold, silver, enamelled chalices we're used to seeing at Mass. The real meaning, though, is found in the only other common Catholic phrase with the word 'precious' in it - the Precious Blood. It is not the material the chalice is made from which makes it precious, but rather it's being made for and coming into contact with "His Most Precious Blood", as the Divine Praises put it. If a coffee cup has to be used for Holy Mass because nothing more suitable is available, it becomes a 'precious chalice' and should be treated as such, as Servant of God Dorothy Day ably demonstrated [search for the word 'chalice']. The words "precious chalice", then, are bound up with our belief in the Real Presence of Christ in the Eucharist. "Cup" just doesn't do it justice.

Yet if we neglect the first word in the phrase i.e. "this", we're also missing a key point. The Church wishes to make clear to us an incredible fact - "The sacrifice of Christ [on the Cross] and the sacrifice of the Eucharist are one single sacrifice" [CCC 1367. Emphasis in original]. When the priest acts as Christ did, taking the chalice in his hands and saying His words, there is actually no difference between 'our' chalice and the Lord's chalice of nearly 2,000 years ago - both contain the same Precious Blood. In a very real way, we are 'transported' back to that upper room where Christ began the New Covenant at every Mass we go to. Or rather, that Passover with the Apostles is brought through time to us (the Catechism has a good explanation of the meaning of "memorial" as applied to the Mass in CCC 1362-1364].

When the promoters of the new translation claim that it has more spiritual and theological depth than the (soon-to-be) old translation, these few examples are what they are talking about. There'll be even more in the prayers said by the priest at various points in Mass as well. I hope this will help you to at least present these positive aspects of it to the understandably cautious and the downright recalcitrant alike!

"...is no less a human construct than a Shakespeare play."

Anyone care to guess what the first part of this quote, the "....", is referring to? Well, as the First Sunday of Advent approaches, I'm sure you can expect to hear more comments like this one in reference to the new English translation of the Roman Missal.

Yep, the book which gives form to the main act of worship (the "source and summit", if you will) of the largest part of the church founded by Christ, is no more divinely inspired than a Shakespeare play. At least according to The Tablet (sometimes called 'the Bitter Pill' - I'm starting to see why). This is one of many troubling statements made in the inaugural piece of a series of articles about this new translation. It's common on blogs to find emphasis and analysis posts, wherein the blogger looks at someone else's writing under a microscope. I haven't done one before, so I thought I'd give it a try:

Pentecost is the birthday of the Church, the first time, after the Resurrection, that the apostolic function is exercised. Filled with the Spirit, Peter and the others leave their place of concealment and come out into the crowded, noisy city streets, to begin the work they have been given to do.

They start to preach, and so strong is the power of the Word within them that when it is uttered it heals Babel, and is heard by the cosmopolitan mass of people, gathered in the city, clearly in their own languages. ["heals Babel." I like that. Very good - onwards!...]

Thus the first functional effect of the Word of God being preached is to make itself understood by all, no matter what their origin, their background, their language. The first apostles did not expect their hearers to understand Latin or Greek, or any other lingua franca. They did not have to hear the Word in any special register or vocabulary set. The Word comes to them in the language or dialect that speaks to them most immediately. [And it was all going so well. This makes it sound like the Apostles had laid out a strategy for evangelisation while they were waiting in that room, and had decided not to bother the man in the street with incomprehensible languages like Greek and Latin. Thus the 'Sacred language-bad, vernacular-good' subtext of this whole article comes to the surface.]

By the way, if the Apostles did have any expectations (though the whole Pentecost episode seems rather...spontaneous, doesn't it?), I'm sure they expected the "strangers of Rome" to understand Latin, and the half dozen nationalities St. Luke records as present who spoke mainly Greek, to understand Greek. And St. Peter definitely speaks in a 'special register' and 'vocabulary set' - hence his lengthy quotes from the Prophets Joel and Isaiah, and two Psalms. If the "stranger from Rome" in the street wasn't familiar with the Scriptures? He'd have to ask someone to find out what St. Peter was talking about. See how evangelisation works?

The writer then describes the theory of 'topology of language', which deals with how translations may be changes of the original text, in order to convey the same main reference points ("subject, plot, characters, the message"). Which brings us to this:

We preserve faithfully the poetry of Shakespeare’s drama, but we change the settings, costume, time frame, scenography of the plays. We perform them to a wide audience, and we translate the words used into speech forms that are comprehensible to their listeners. For example, although we may use Shakespeare’s own words, the accents and voice patterns used to express them are certainly different from those an Elizabethan audience would have heard, and obviously the canon of the plays has now been translated into practically every language on the planet. [Who thinks that Shakespeare is better in modern English than in the original Renaissance English? No one? That's what I thought, so I'm not sure how this makes the writer's overall point - 'old language-bad, new language-good']

The liturgical action we call the Mass, the eucharistic sacrifice, is no less a human construct than is a Shakespearean play. The words and the texts we use today are very different from those used 500 years ago, and certainly from those used in the Early Church, the first century or so after the Resurrection. Thanks to modern liturgists, there are elements of similarity. Ancient forms of the eucharistic prayers have been revived and are used in our vernacular texts. [E.g. Eucharistic Prayer II, from around 3rd Century, I think] But the way in which these are rendered, put into forms with which contemporary minds and tongues can feel comfortable and understand, is crucial if the liturgy is to have the desired effect of raising hearts and minds to God.  [I have no Magisterial authority, thank God, so can't say how close that first statement comes to heresy. I do own a copy of the Catechism, however, which has multiple paragraphs concerning the divine, heavenly, cosmic reality of our earthly liturgy e.g. CCC 1084-1090 "In the earthly liturgy we share in a foretaste of that heavenly liturgy...", 1137-1139 "It is in this eternal liturgy that the Spirit and the Church enable us to participate...", 1326 "By the Eucharistic celebration we we already unite ourselves with the heavenly liturgy...".

The Missal isn't Scripture, to be sure, but it is part of our liturgy, which is a "constitutive element of the holy and living Tradition" [CCC 1124]. Tradition, of course, comes to us from Christ through the Apostles, just like Scripture. It seems the Church has a more elevated view of its liturgical books than The Tablet. Also, did you spot the assumption? Comfortable and understandable language "is crucial" to raising hearts and minds to God. Says who? Doesn't comfortable language make us feel, well, comfortable, rather than rousing our innermost beings to contemplate the divine and difficult things of God? Wouldn't "poetic and challenging" language be better suited to this purpose?

It is important to remember that, as with Steiner’s examples of classical texts, the topos of the Mass remains the same. The core of the liturgy, the eucharistic action of the gather­ing, remains consistently the work of God; his mysterious presence within the community is still a reality, no matter what the context for the celebration. [Some of this is true - the liturgy is God's work primarily, ours secondarily, though that seems to cut across the grain of what the writer is advocating here (note the emphasis on 'the gathering' and 'the community'). Now, The Catechism rightly asserts that liturgy is the worship of the whole community, but that has to include people AND priest because Christ will never be sacramentally present without a priest to say Mass. This is just an impression, but given that Christ's sacramental presence is never mentioned in this article about the Mass, I don't think the writer has that view in mind.]

We do not negate that by using modern language or contemporary music. Just as the action of the celebrant is valid no matter what his personal state of soul, the action of the whole Mass is valid no matter what the state of those present, whether they are attentive or asleep, resentful or eager for full, wholehearted participation in their celebration. [If validity is all we're aiming for in our liturgy, then the priest could wear shorts and flip-flops, with a barmcake and a bottle of plonk on the coffee table, and we've got ourselves a sacrament. Always look out for this talk of 'validity' - it's a smokescreen for liturgical (and spiritual) minimalism, as though the miracle of the sacrament we witness at every Mass didn't demand our most beautiful art, music, poetry, architecture, and haberdashery (for the vestments).]

The apostles and their immediate successors did not “say” Mass in Latin. [No, they sang it in Greek and Aramaic] The Pentecost story demonstrates the diversity of the society into which the Church was born. It was only with the dominance of Roman culture, centuries later, that Latin became the lingua franca of the Church, as well as of the higher professions, of learning and so on.

She then puts forward the case that because English is the new lingua franca, the English translation of the Roman Missal is of global importance, which is true, but includes this:

In other words, for a religion that, like Catholic Christianity, professes to be universal, a closed, initiate group, with its own language and secret rituals, is not conducive to the intended aim of spreading the Word of God to all. And trying to maintain or restore this sense of encrypted meaning within the liturgy, through the use of esoteric or historical language, sets obstacles (scandal) in the way. [Is it me, or is she talking about the Latin Mass Society? And the FSSP? And the Pope? And the Church as she worshiped from the time of St. Gregory the Great until the 1970's? This writer is a translator, not an historian, so I'll give her the benefit of the doubt, and assume that she's doesn't know which language the great missionaries used at Mass all over the world, throughout the centuries, from Augustine of Canterbury in Anglo Saxon England, to Francis Xavier in India, winning untold millions of souls for Christ. By the way, it was Latin. And even if she's talking about 'King James Bible' English, the point still stands - the British Empire exported that around the globe, and it has nourished the faith of countless generations of Christians, including my beloved Newman. Who also said Mass exclusively in Latin when he converted.] 

And that's pretty much it, apart from a sinister prophecy that "If obstacles are put in [the word of God's] way, those responsible [i.e. the translators] will be called to account."

Behind this whole piece is a whopping assumption - that Mass should be immediately intelligible, and a foreign language (like, say, Latin or Ye Olde Englishe) definitely prevents that from happening.  Even in English, though, you can't understand it all straightaway, because there are so many actions, and signs and symbols and prayers, that are rich in different layers of meaning. We need to be taught what these meanings are to participate actively in the liturgy, regardless of the language, which is why I can actively participate in a Mass said in Flemish without understanding a single word of what was said, sung, prayed, and preached (which was what I experienced in my recent trip to Bruges).

This attitude also reflects the mentality of a faithful which only encounters God, and His Church, at Mass on Sunday. They don't read spiritual books, go to Mass mid-week or say the Rosary, look at the Bible or Catechism, or go on courses. In short, it is a symptom of the appalling state of catechesis in the modern Church. If our bishops, priests and deacons would only teach us some stuff, instead of giving us the same sort of exhortational homily on the moral life each week, important as that is, we'd be in a better position to receive this new translation. And in a better position to understand it.