The other day, a friend told me that he had been to his first Latin Mass at Mater Dei in Dallas, Texas. In his opinion, it was a mistake to have the priest turn away from the people for the entirety of the Mass. He understood and appreciated the fact that, turning towards the Tabernacle, the priest ‘leads us to Jesus,’ but he should turn to face the people more.
He also thought the prayers, even though they are spoken in Latin and rarely, if ever, understood by the typical Mass-goer, should be spoken out loud.
After he finished giving me his observations, I told him the following story about my experience.
As one who does my best to attend Mass daily, it has been only recently that I have attended Latin Masses, by mistake mind you, but I was there, at my parish St. Joseph in Richardson, Texas (picture above). Several years ago, the pastor began celebrating the Latin Mass one Thursday night a month. He printed a guide so that we could follow along and he said all the prayers aloud while facing the Altar and Tabernacle, away from the congregation.
A few months after that, I attended a Latin Mass at Christ the King parish in Kansas City, Missouri. Of course, the priest faced the Altar and Tabernacle, but this priest prayed the Canon, what I call the Prayers of Consecration, silently. And I was irritated.
Some months later, I was in Detroit, Michigan and, continuing my commitment to attend daily Mass, I found the Assumption Grotto parish and went to Mass. Upon my arrival, I looked at the altar, and realized this was a parish whose common practice was the Latin Mass. As usual the priest, faced away from the congregation, facing the altar and Tabernacle. And, when he got to the Canon, he went silent.
Again, I felt myself get annoyed. Then I heard/felt the Lord say, “Relax.”
Fine. I thought, and I took a deep breath and exhaled, closing my eyes.
In a moment, I felt myself floating, as if on a lazy river, and my soul was at peace. The sense I had was that the priest was “doing the heavy lifting” and that anything I did or didn’t do could affect, one way or another the Miracle that was happening on the altar at that moment; the moment when Jesus becomes present in the bread and the wine. And that my “participation” or lack thereof had nothing to do with it either. In fact, my mere presence was neither required nor necessary for God to do what He does.
The fact that I am there (and make no mistake, Jesus wants us there), present for the most important, most glorious moment that happens every day all over the world, is simply a gift to me. My “participation” is only to believe and receive. Believe that bread and wine have become Jesus’ Body, Blood, Soul and Divinity; and receive Him on my tongue, worthily.
This experience changed the way I look at the Latin Mass. There is much to love about the Latin Mass. As with anything of any depth, it is easy to be turned off by first impressions. In a world of sights and sounds, media surrounding us at every turn, grabbing for our attention, silence is boring. Some people feel like it’s intermission. It’s time to go to the bathroom or read the bulletin because nothing seems to be happening. Nothing could be further from the truth.
“The traditional practice of the priest praying the Canon silently emphasizes that Christ does not come to us in words, but in the one unique Word which HE IS, and which—immanent, transcendent, and infinite as it is—no human tongue can ever express. Once we have absorbed this fact in our life of prayer, the words of Sacred Scripture can, paradoxically, penetrate our hearts more effectively and have a more-than-Protestant effect on our minds.” ~Dr. Peter Kwasniewski
About a year after Assumption Grotto, I spent a considerable several months at the Shrine of Our Lady of Guadalupe in La Crosse, Wisconsin. As a member of the Schola, which is the Chant Choir for the Latin Mass, we would leave the choir loft, go down to kneel at the altar rail to receive Communion.
Typically, the “silent” prayers are really “under the breath” or ‘sotto voce,’ almost muttered, for lack of a better word. The prayers are spoken and responded to between the priest and the altar servers.
That day like other Sunday mornings, I was kneeling at the altar rail, preparing myself to receive Communion like everyone else, when I heard what I thought sounded like bees buzzing as from a beehive. I knew there couldn’t be a hive in the building, so I looked up. In a moment, a couple of things happened.
I realized it was the combined voices of six altar servers responding in Latin with their part of the prayers. In the next instant, I began trembling all over as the Presence of the Holy Spirit gripped my insides, bowing my head toward the altar and my eyes filled with tears. The power of the prayer of the altar servers rocked me even though I couldn’t understand what they were praying.
Even though the congregation in the pews behind me probably couldn’t hear even the buzzing, the prayer was being prayed for them, for all of us. The “heavy lifting” was happening for us. All we had to do was believe and receive.
If you have access or the opportunity to go to or visit a Latin Mass, please, give it a try. Don’t judge or compare it to what you have experienced or what you’re used to. Approach it as you might the depths of the ocean which cannot be judged, understood, or grasped by the appearance of what is on the surface.
PLEASE NOTE:
If you are not Catholic or of you are and haven’t been to Reconciliation/Confession in a long time, you would not be doing yourself a favor by receiving Communion. So, please don’t. There is so much more to receiving Holy Communion in a worthy manner than can be addressed here.
