The Liturgy: Essence And Issues

The Liturgy: Essence and Issues J. Jacob Tawney The following is the full-length version of a talk given at Ohio Wesleyan University on March 25, 2009. The talk itself was an abbreviated version of what follows. While it doesn’t always make headlines in the secular newspapers, if one were to listen carefully to what is actually being said by the Church in recent years, one would certainly conclude topic receiving and increasing amount of attention is the Liturgy. This of course should come as no surprise, for as Vatican II said, the Liturgy is both the source and the summit of the Christian life. Then again, while Vatican II stated this principle in concise and eloquent terms, the principle itself is not new. The Liturgy has always been at the center of our faith. So the question remains, why now? At this point in the history of our Church, why is there such a growing interest in the Liturgy? Is it because we have been blessed with a Pope who is arguably one of the leading academics in liturgical theology? Perhaps. Though I think the issue goes deeper than just the leadership in the Church. I think it is essentially a question of timing. We are seeing the first generation now coming into adulthood of those who have only ever experienced what the Church calls the Novus Ordo, or the new form of the Mass, the form promulgated by Pope Paul VI in 1969. Those who are forty years and younger have known nothing else except this form of the Sacred Liturgy. On top of that, the manner in which this Liturgy is often celebrated is done so in a way that emphasizes the people as participants at the expense of the transcendent actio Dei, the action of God. This generation is hungering for the transcendent, much as they are hungering for authentic Catholic orthodoxy. Because of the growing popularity of this topic, I have titled my talk “The Liturgy: Essence and Issues.” While it is always tempting to jump right into specific issues (which way the priest should face during the Eucharistic Canon, how much Latin should be in the Mass, or what type of music is appropriate) addressing such questions without a proper background would be putting the proverbial cart before the horse. Before taking

up specific Liturgical issues, we must first try to understand the essence of the Liturgy itself. The bulk of this talk will attempt, in the short amount of time we have, to do just that, to try to hammer out the essence, and hence the purpose, of the Liturgy. To do so, I have three important points. Important point number one: the Liturgy is a cosmic event. In the Old Testament, we see the idea of worship, in the Ten Commandments, as tied to the Sabbath Day. On this seventh day, man is to rest from work and give worship to his Creator. However, the Sabbath being the seventh day of rest immediately harkens back to the creation story itself. The Sabbath Day is precisely that seventh day on which God Himself rested after the creation of the world. Thus, we can see from the first book of Scripture that the act of worship, or at least the day set aside for worship, is part of the fabric of the cosmic act of creation. To make this clearer, let us take up the very term “worship.” What do we mean by worship? Worship itself, according to the Fathers of the Church, is nothing other than giving to God what is due to God. St. Thomas Aquinas designed his entire Summa Theologica around this principle. It is the principle of exitus-reditus (exit and return). Simply put, from God all of creation comes, and to God it must return. God holds all of creation in existence out of an act of pure generosity. The great Christian distinction is that God is not part of the world, but is outside of the world. Moreover, God does not need the world. He freely chose to create it, and he freely chooses to hold it in creation. The world does nothing to add to the greatness of God. Because God has given existence to all of creation, the only gift that any aspect of creation can possibly hope to give back to God is itself. Every being in the created world has its fulfillment in God. From God it has come, and to God it must return (exitus-reditus). Its perfection as being is found nowhere if not in its very source of being. It is precisely to this act of giving back to God what is rightfully His that we give the name “worship.” All of creation worships insofar as it tends towards its fulfillment in God. This is why worship is a cosmic event. However, mankind is unique in the world. Every being except for man cannot help but tend towards

its perfection in God. Only people can actively ignore their destiny; only people can deliberately head away from God. In doing so, mankind fails to worship, or perhaps said differently, mankind worships incorrectly. The very act of sin is an act of incorrect worship. The most obvious example of this is using the Lord’s name in vain, an “incorrect prayer” if you will. The Liturgy, which is the making concrete of the act of worship, is therefore a cosmic event. It is not one aspect of our lives, something we do on Sundays. The inclusion is the other way around. Instead of fitting the Liturgy into what we think is something bigger, namely our lives, it is in the Liturgy that we are taken up into something much bigger, the cosmic worship of God. The Liturgy is a great drama that is being played out on a cosmic scale, and simply by being there, we are taken up into this drama. This is exactly why having specific rituals in the liturgy is so important. When there are “lines” that need recited, “actions” or “stage directions” that need followed, the structure of the Liturgy itself teaches that the Liturgy is bigger than us; we are taught that it is not something that we can create, but something that must be received. In contrast, when the Liturgy becomes the result of the creative efforts of a Liturgy committee, the congregation is given the impression that the main focus of the action is not on God but on the people, that we are the creators, not God. How the Liturgy is presented and the way in which it includes us affects how we come to think of the essence of the Liturgy and of ourselves as human agents. This is the basic principle of sacramentality in its most general form. The principle states, “we are how we act.” In other words, the way in which we act forms the views we hold and even the type of person we become. If the Mass is presented as a ritual, people are given the correct impression that it is something bigger than themselves, a sacred action in which they are taken up. They then come to realize that they are not the center of reality. If it is presented as self-created, then people come to see themselves as, well, self-creators. Contrary to common thought on what happens during the Mass, the Liturgy is not where God is brought down to us ... we hardly have that amount of power.

Instead, the Liturgy is where we are brought up into God, into the very inner life of the Blessed Trinity. In this, we come to understand our role in the Liturgy as primarily passive. The important thing is not what we do, but how we are. This is certainly contrary to the way in which we have come to experience the Liturgy; often in our modern experience the entire Mass seems to be about what the congregation does, what role they play. We must keep in mind however, that God always works through us; our only role is to be a passive receptacle open to His presence. Every mystic in the history of the Church that has written a spiritual classic has always said that the path to God is eventually entirely passive. The soul simply rests and opens itself up to the action and love of God. Important point number two: the Liturgy is never created but always received in a posture of humility. This is an idea that is at the heart of the Pope’s liturgical theology. He has gone so far as to state that even the Pope himself cannot arbitrarily change the Liturgy. Another way of saying this is: the Liturgy is the public worship of the Church. This is what separates a properly Liturgical action from the more general act of prayer. While our personal prayer should always find its source in the Liturgy, there is a difference between praying on our own and praying with the Church in a properly Liturgical setting. When it comes to the public Liturgy of the Church, we must avoid any attempt to think that we can improve on what is already, in its essence, perfect. True, there will always be room for organic growth. After all, the Liturgy is a living reality that will continue to grow with the changing times, but we must avoid the temptation to arbitrarily create and re-create the Liturgy with the fickle winds of changing culture. The Pope, in his 2005 Christmas address to the Roman Curia, spoke of the need for a “hermeneutic of continuity.” While he meant many things in this statement, one thing for sure is that, while the Church is a living breathing reality that will always experience growth and development, it is first and foremost a Church that is rooted in tradition. Therefore, any and all growth must be, what he and many others have called “organic.” Any change should be in light of and in continuity with what comes before. In terms of Church teaching, this can be seen in Cardinal

Newman’s “Development of Doctrine.” Any development must be seen in continuity with what comes before it, and hence we should be able to find the roots of the development in the teachings of Christ and the Apostles and to clearly trace the development throughout history. Likewise, any development in the Liturgy must be organic; we must be able to find the roots of the Liturgy in the actions of Christ and the early Church and clearly trace its development throughout history. This does not, however, exclude development. The Pope says, in examining the Liturgy, that the Church must avoid two extremes, the first being the spirit of arbitrary change, of thinking that we can randomly create and re-create the Liturgy to suit our needs and personal preferences. However, she must also avoid the extreme of antiquarianism, of trying to canonize any one period of time as having the perfect Liturgy that is suited for all times, particularly trying to re-create the Liturgy of the first days of Christianity. After all, we would expect that Liturgies carried on in times of persecution and necessary secrecy would be different in their execution from those that are publicly permitted. Important point number three: the Liturgy is historical and primarily about the sacrifice of Christ on the Cross. The liturgy re-presents the death and resurrection of Christ, a historical event. Moreover, it points back to the Last Supper, another historical event. Moreover, the Last Supper itself takes place in the context of the Passover Meal, which commemorates yet another historical event, the Exodus of God’s people from Egypt. Let’s look a bit more carefully at the the historical event of Christ’s sacrifice on the cross. In fact, let’s begin by looking more generally at the notion of sacrifice. It is often misunderstood that sacrifice necessarily involves destruction, or pain of sorts. We naturally tend to think of sacrifice as something that is “hard to do.” While this certainly resounds with our common experience, it is only true due to the advent of original sin. In fact, the notion of sacrifice, which exists not only in Christianity but also in many other religions, is nothing more than rendering to God what is due to God. Does this sound familiar? This is the exact definition we

offered for worship at the beginning of the talk. Worship and sacrifice are the process by which we make an offering to God what is due to God, namely ourselves. Thus, not only is the idea of sacrifice integral to the Liturgy, it is identical with the Liturgy. In recent decades, there have been attempts to place at the center of the Liturgy an aspect different from Christ’s sacrifice, most notably the idea of a communal meal and the idea of a gathering of God’s people. While these certainly are aspects of the Sacred Liturgy, they are secondary to the notion of sacrifice. While sacrifice in its essence does not necessarily include destruction or pain, the nature of sacrifice was affected by original sin. Recall what sin is: sin is improper worship, not rendering to God what is due to God. Sin then, ruptures the authenticity of sacrifice, the authenticity of worship. Said differently, sin, instead of being an act of giving, is an act of grasping. Because worship/sacrifice/liturgy is cosmic, the original sin, the original act of anti-worship, itself was a cosmic act, or rather a cosmic dis-act. Original sin is not merely cosmic, though, but is also a historical act. It is because of its cosmic and historical nature that (1) original sin is passed down to all mankind throughout history, and (2) all of creation, all of the cosmos, is somehow affected by it. This is also why it takes both a cosmic and historical event to close the rift caused by sin. This becomes a very powerful argument for the incarnation, for the eternal Second Person of the Trinity entering history as a man. Because worship has been rent apart by original sin, sacrifice and worship need the element of healing, and because original sin is both cosmic and historical, only an event that is both cosmic and historical can properly redeem worship. Enter Christ’s sacrifice, an actual historical event that, because it involved God himself, has cosmic ramifications. By his death and resurrection, Christ accomplished on the Cross what man was unable to do. The Paschal Mystery, being the most perfect act of sacrifice, redeemed worship. This occurred not simply because of the external act. External acts are always manifestations of greater internal realities. The event of Christ’s sacrifice on the Cross was an external manifestation of the Son’s gift of himself to the Father.

Because he was truly man and truly God, he gives not only himself, but indeed all of humanity to the Father, an act of authentic worship that man was unable to make on his own because of the cosmic rift caused by sin. The Paschal Mystery, the death and resurrection of Christ, is a historical event; it is what Pope Benedict refers to as the first level of Liturgy. The greater internal reality that was signified on the Cross, the eternal gift of the Son to the Father, is the third level of Liturgy. This is the Liturgy of the Angels and Saints in heaven, the eternal act of worship, the eternal reality of giving of all of creation back to God. We are in the second level of Liturgy, what the Pope refers to as the “already” but “not yet.” The historical event is, historically speaking, past. However, we are still in history, so we are not yet in eternity. This second level is the level of Liturgy proper. Before the historical event of the Cross, the reality was not yet present. Now that Christ’s act has been accomplished, the reality is here, but we are not yet completely brought up into it; it awaits us in heaven. Therefore, we are in the period of signs: signs that point to a reality that is already present. Only in such a period could we have anything like the idea of transubstantiation. There is the reality of Christ fully present: body, blood, soul, and divinity, but it is veiled in under the accidents of bread and wine. Because of the cosmic nature of Christ’s sacrifice, because the Christ event takes up all of time and history, the Liturgy, being the re-presentation of the Sacrifice, gives us access to two things. First, it brings us to the foot of the Cross, so that we can truly participate in the sacrifice of Christ. Remember what we said: the act of Christ redeemed worship, it allowed for a healing so that man can again give of himself back to God, to give God what is due to Him. How, in a concrete way, does Christ’s sacrifice accomplish this? How does it allow us to once again offer ourselves in authentic worship? It happens precisely through the Liturgy. We are assured, now, every time we go to Mass, that we are participating in a true act of worship, because the Mass takes us up into the great drama of the Trinity, which forever includes the Son’s gift of himself (and of us) to the Father. This is very powerful ... but dare I say there is something that is even more powerful. Recall that the Christ-event is a cosmic-eternal event, and thus it is the external

manifestation of the eternal act of worship of God Himself. The event on the Cross that is now being re-presented at every Mass is also being played out in the heavenly Liturgy, where the Sacrifice reaches its eternal fulfillment. Therefore, the Mass not only transports us back to the foot of the Cross, but it also transports us to heaven itself, to the Liturgy of the Angels and Saints. Now stay with me here, because we are about to make a tricky theological move. Our fulfillment, or proper end, like the proper end of all of creation, is union with God. What is heaven if not the fulfillment of all those who have chosen to participate in Christ’s sacrifice? In heaven, we find our fulfillment. Recall that the Liturgy transports us, via the eternal sacrifice of Christ, to the heavenly Liturgy. Therefore, the Liturgy transports us to our own fulfillment in Christ. This is why the Holy Father calls the Liturgy “anthropological.” Only in the Liturgy can we find the answer to the questions that have vexed humanity from time immemorial. Why are we here? What does God want of me? Why is the purpose of life? The Liturgy forms us ... it brings about our own fulfillment ... it makes us fully human. By allowing ourselves to be taken up into the great mystery of Christ, we allow God to shape our being. In this we begin to understand St. Paul when he tells the Galatians, “I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I that live but Christ that lives in me.” In a way, the Liturgy becomes our own divinization, not in a pantheistic sense, but in an authentically Christian sense. We put on Christ. In all of this, we come to understand in a deeper way the idea of sacramentality. External acts are manifestation of internal realities, but they also bring about those internal realities. The act of Christ on the Cross was an external manifestation of the eternal gift of the Son to the Father, yes, but that internal reality was brought about by the external action. The external and the internal are inseparable. Likewise, the actions found in the ancient rituals of the Mass are external manifestation of our internal conversion to Christ, but they also bring about that conversion. You can now see why the idea of Christ’s sacrifice and the Liturgy as a re-presentation of the sacrifice is at the heart of the essence of the

Liturgy and of our own salvation. Any conception of the Liturgy that minimizes the idea of sacrifice is found greatly wanting. Now that we have clarified the essence of the Liturgy and its purpose, allow me to address three specific issues. The first is the role of music and its appropriateness in the Mass. Since even before the Christian Liturgy, the Jewish people understood the importance of incorporating music into the praise and worship of God. The Psalms attest to the fact that a prayer that is sung is twice prayed. There is no question of the necessity of music in the Liturgy. The only question is what music is appropriate? In answering the question, we must return to the essence and purpose of the Liturgy. First, recall the importance of ritual. The Liturgy is a great cosmic drama in which we are taken up. In the old form of the rite, nearly every musical piece was scripted. Instead of an entrance hymn, there were specific Introit chants written for every Mass of the year, and these chants correlated to the readings of the day. A similar structure governed the Graduale (the Psalm following the first reading), the Offertory Chant, and the Communion Antiphon, chanted while the faithful received the Holy Eucharist. In modern liturgies, the music heard at Mass seems more to model the type of music heard on the radio and less to reflect the transcendence of the sacred actions taking place. There is something inherently transcendent about chant. As opposed to hymns, which by their very rhythmic nature tend to “march forward” to a climatic conclusion, chant allows for the listener to rest in a state of contemplation. Much like the Liturgy is received in humility, so is God himself. The soul can only truly pray when it is calm and open, which requires not a “active” participation, but “actual” participation in silence and contemplation, and the very structure of chant is conducive to such participation. Pope after Pope from Gregory the Great through Benedict XVI have proclaimed the Sacred Chant is the official music of the Church, and in particular of the Liturgy.

Church teaching has again and again repeated that the more closely a piece of music resembles Gregorian Chant, the more appropriate it is for use in the Mass. Conversely, the farther it is in structure and style from Gregorian Chant, the less appropriate it is for use in the Mass. It is indisputable that the vast majority of Christians throughout the history of the Church have worshipped with chant as their primary (or only) mode of liturgical music. For this reason, the Second Vatican Council specifically called for a primacy of place for Gregorian Chant. In contrast, the music we hear in most liturgies today is a produced with the specific intention of modeling modern music, not using the hermeneutic of continuity with the musical tradition of the Church. If you listen carefully to the lyrics of some of the more popular songs being employed for liturgical purposes, you will find that they are centered on man and his efforts, not on the praise and worship of God. My favorite example is the song that begins, “Sing a new Church into being,” which is at best self-centered and at worst heretical. As a side note, it is also interesting that the Gregorian melodies were not written for profit. It was always understood that these melodies would be copied, reproduced, and distributed widely and at no cost so as to give ever greater and more widespread glory to God. In contrast, the music often used in Liturgies today is sold for a profit; essentially it is a business. The second issue that is receiving a tremendous amount of attention in the Church today is the use of Latin. In the old form of the rite, everything except the homily is in Latin. The common objection to the use of Latin is that the laity cannot understand what is being said, and in order to actively participate in the Mass, the language needs to be in the vernacular. This argument finds it flaw in the misunderstanding of the purpose of the Liturgy. Primarily, the Liturgy finds its purpose in giving praise and worship to God. Yes, the laity are required to have “actual” participation, but the Church has always taught that this participation is primarily an internal disposition of sacrifice and worship. We have, in recent times, mistaken actual participation as active participation. We feel that everyone at Mass must have a role to play in order to “feel involved.”

More importantly, however, is the observation that in hearing a language that one cannot translate word-for-word the people naturally (or supernaturally rather) come to understand the inherent transcendence of the Liturgy. They come to understand God as a great mystery to be reveled in. With the exception of the last forty years, both the Christian and Jewish people have always understood the importance of a sacred language. To demonstrate the effect a sacred language can have on the way in which a liturgical action is perceived, let us examine the very reading of Holy Scripture during Mass. In the new form of the rite, the readings are typically spoken in the vernacular. This gives the impression that purpose of the readings is for the people, so that they can understand the Word of God. Now, please don’t get me wrong, it is of the utmost importance that God’s people understand and internalize God’s Word and learn to apply it to their thoughts and actions, to allow it to form them from within. In a faith that conceives the second person of the Trinity as the Word, we can never underestimate the importance of written Scriptures. However, if we apply the principle of firstthings-first, before we can internalize the Word of God, we must first internalize it as the Word of God. That is, we must first understand that it is of divine origin. Without this realization, the Bible becomes merely one of a countless number of self-help books that we find on the shelves of the local book store. In contrast to the vernacular reading of Holy Scripture, the old form of the rite has the readings chanted in the language of the Church: Latin. Instead of presenting the readings as primarily for the people, the old form of the rite correctly applies the principle that the Liturgy is primarily an act of worship that has God as the source and summit. The readings then become a sort of theophany, an offering to God. They become a prayer properly speaking. Think about the appropriateness of this. If the Liturgy is a re-presentation of Christ’s self-offering to God, and if Christ is referred to as the Word of God, should not the reading of the Word of God be primarily an offering of the Word of God to the Father. Only in doing so can we begin to understand the connection between the

Liturgy of the Word, in which the Word of God is offered in the readings, and the Liturgy of the Eucharist, in which the Word of God is offered sacramentally. Once we have internalized that Holy Scripture is indeed sacred, then we can begin to understand it and apply it to our lives. This starts with the homily, but it should continue, dare I say, in our personal reading of those passages that are proclaimed on Sunday. The third and final issue that I want to present is one that perhaps has not garnered the attention by the general laity that the first two have, but is also one that is of growing interest among particularly the young priests and seminarians. Until the Mass of Pope Paul VI in 1969, the Church has with little exception oriented the priest with the people during the Eucharistic Prayer. Of course in the new form of the rite, we experience the priest facing towards the people at the alter. The question, as with all questions liturgical, is which direction is more appropriate to the essence of the Liturgy? I want to begin with the two general principles that the Liturgy is both a cosmic and a historical event. Thus, wherever possible, the liturgical actions, particularly the most important actions, should demonstrate both cosmic and historical significance. Many of the world’s religions understand the importance of physical orientation during prayer. The ancient Jews would orient themselves towards the Temple, in which was found the Arc of the Covenant, understood as the presence of God on earth. Islam faces Mecca during prayer. Christians, because of their unique perspective that is both cosmic and historical, always faced East. It used to be common even in homes to make sure that a crucifix was on the eastern wall of the house. Why? What is it about facing East that is appropriate to Christianity? The sun, being obviously a cosmic symbol of life and light, is also inherently a measure of history, as our time is measured by its rising and setting. The unique marriage of cosmic and historical significance makes the rising sun the only truly appropriate symbol for the coming of Christ. (Not to mention the obvious significance of both the sun and Christ rising.) Scripture abounds with

references about the East being the direction form which the second coming of Christ will occur. Because of this, the Christian Liturgy has always emphasized both priest and people facing towards the East during the most solemn part of the Mass, the Eucharistic Prayer. For the majority of Christian history it was seen as appropriate to orient the very Church building during the time of construction so that during the Eucharistic prayer both priest and people faced towards the East. In doing so, the priest is seen as (1) offering the victim of Christ to the Father on behalf of the people (not as presenting the victim of Christ to the people) and (2) leading the pilgrim people of God on their way to Christ, towards their eschatological fulfillment. The Latin phrase for this orientation is ad orientem, translated “towards the East,” and is in practice synonymous with the Latin phrase ad Dominum, or “toward the Lord.” In fact, the idea of facing East was so important that even in Churches that were designed facing the opposite way, such as St. Peter’s Basilica in Rome, while the priest faced what might be called versus populum (“facing the people”) during the Eucharistic prayer, the people themselves, who at the time were seated on the sides of the nave flanking the altar, would turn towards the East with the priest so that the priest and people would form a sort of semicircle that opens up towards the front doors of the Church facing the sun shining in through the stain glassed windows. In the entire history of the Church until very recent times, there is no evidence whatsoever that suggests any importance given to “facing the people.” When this happens, the priest and people form a self-enclosed circle, not a pilgrim people on their way to Christ and open to the actions of God. Moreover, when the priest faces the people, he himself becomes the center of attention, the point of reference. When so much attention is given to the priest, he must struggle tremendously against the temptation to “put on a show” for the people, to make the Eucharistic Prayer “entertaining.” It also gives the impression that the priest, in saying the words of consecration, is speaking to the people. I am sure we have all been at Masses where the priest has directed both the elevation of the host and the words, “Take this, this is my Body, which will be given up for you,” to the congregation. I would

encourage you to listen very carefully to the words of the Eucharistic Prayer the next time you are at Mass. You will find that every word from beginning to end is directed towards the Father. Even the command to “Take this,” is a quotation in the context of the prayer as a whole, a re-presenting Christ’s words at the last supper, not as a dialog between priest and people. The prayer of the Eucharistic Canon is not for us. It is a prayer, a sacred action no less, that is being offered on our behalf to the Father by the priest who is standing the in person of Christ. The orientation of the priest facing with the people towards the East is the external manifestation of this internal reality. As a side note, the Eucharistic action of the priest is seen as so sacred and so solemn in the old rite that the entire Canon was often said in silence. The silence was pierced only by the ringing of the bells followed by the elevation of the consecrated Lord. In some of the Eastern liturgies, not only is the Eucharistic action not heard by the people, it is not even seen, as it takes place behind a curtain or behind an iconostasis, demonstrating the continuity with the Jewish tradition of the inner part of the sanctuary (known as the Holy of Holies) accessible only to the priest. In conclusion, I would like to mentioned the Motu Propio released by the Holy Father in 2007 called Summorum Pontificum. The primary purpose of this letter was to give priests the right to say the old form of the rite, the 1962 Missal of Blessed John XXIII. Until this point, a priest needed the permission of his local Bishop to do so. Though this was the purpose of the letter, perhaps the most important statement in the entire document is when the Holy Father expresses his hope that the wider use of the old form (what he calls the “extraordinary form” as opposed to the “ordinary form,” or the new form of the rite) will allow the old rite and the new rite to mutually influence one another. In this, we will hopefully experience the organic “growing together” of the two forms. I would suggest that this process begin with three changes to the new form, the Novus Ordo, three changes that are already allowed for in the current rubrics. (Thus in a sense they are only changes in the way it is commonly celebrated, but not official

changes to the rite itself.) First, I would advocate for a much more liberal use of Latin. This is not only in continuity with the tradition of the Church’s Liturgy, but it also is in continuity with what Vatican II called for. Ideally, we should investigate allowing for the use of Latin in every aspect of the Mass with the exception of the Homily, but as a start, I recommend employing the Sacred language in all the common parts of the Mass, those parts that are said every Sunday: the Sign of the Cross, the Gloria, the Kyrie (though this is Greek not Latin), the Confiteor (“I confess to almighty God”), the Creed, the Holy, Holy, Holy, the Memorial Acclamation, the Our Father, and the Lamb of God, as well as the entire Eucharistic Prayer. The faithful already know the content of these common parts, so the issue of “understanding” is really a non-issue. Second, I would advocate for a return to the tradition of Gregorian Chant in the Liturgy. Once again, not only is this in continuity with the tradition of the Church, but it is also mandated by Vatican II’s Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy. This would include first and foremost the chants proper to the Mass itself: the Gloria, the Kyrie, the Creed, the Holy, Holy, Holy, the Memorial Acclamation, the Our Father, and the Lamb of God. Not only did Paul VI not call for the removal of Gregorian Chant in the promulgation of his 1969 Missal, but he himself issued a document which he referred to as a “personal gift” to the Church. The document is called Jubilate Deo and is a collection of sacred chants that Pope Paul VI felt that all the faithful should know by heart. The Mass propers can be easily learned by any congregation. If, however, there is a talented choir at a parish, this choir could also take up the more complicated Introits (entrance chants), Graduales (the Psalm that follows the First Reading), Offertory Chants, and Communion Antiphons. Finally, and perhaps most importantly, I would advocate for the priest being oriented with the people to emphasize both the sacrificial nature of his actions and their being offered to the Father as well as emphasizing that the priest is leading the pilgrim people of God on their way to Christ. Not only is this allowed for in the current form of the Mass, but the rubrics in fact assume it. There are

specific directions in the rubrics, for instance at the “Ecce Agnus Dei” (“Behold the Lamb of God”) in which the priest is directed to “turn towards the people,” indicating that before this moment, the priest was not facing the people. In places where this change might be seen as too dramatic right away, the priest can begin by placing an upright crucifix at the center of the altar flanked by three candlesticks on either side. This altar arrangement, quickly becoming known as the “Benedictine Arrangement” (named after Pope Benedict who employs it at all his public Masses), emphasizes that both priest and people are oriented ad Dominum, towards the Lord, and that the priest’s actions are not directed towards the people. This, however, should only be a temporary solution that allows for a greater length of time needed to educate the faithful on the proper orientation of the priest and the people during the Eucharistic Canon. In fact, all three of these recommendations must be accompanied by proper catechesis. Without explanations and education, they will be rejected as “going backwards” instead of seeing them for what they are: organic growth forwards. In summary, I always like to close talks to college students with the same challenge. You are pursuing an education, which in its essence is the formation of the human mind. If there is ever an important time to begin looking at what the Church is saying on these and other issues, it is now. You should be not only keeping up with current events in the Church through sources like Zenit.org (please don’t get your Catholic news from the secular media), but you should be reading the Scriptures, the Catechism, the documents of Vatican II, and the other documents that Pope Benedict and Pope John Paul II have gifted to the Church. Moreover, in order to appreciate the continuity the Church has in her Sacred Liturgy, if it is possible, I would encourage you to attend the extraordinary form, the Mass of 1962. Experiencing this will at the very least help you to appreciate the new form of the rite and the significance of its rituals. Learn your faith, and thereby come to live your faith.