Long live the Latin Mass

In the modern world, those who aspire to tradition are considered troublemakers. This is not only seen in secular circles, but in religious ones as well. These naysayers often live by time rather than the Bergsonian truth of duration, and fail to see why such traditions should be revived and lived. I stumbled across an interesting article through an old friend's blog, Rediscovering Traditionalism. It once again brings into question traditions, why they have been forgotten and why their relevance still survives. The Latin Mass is not only an endangered species, but also a form of social stigma. People misunderstand its purpose, even after countless efforts by Catholics and non-Catholics alike pleading for its survival.

The French, being a people of ever restless spirit and passion, of course took matters into their own hands. To this day, France is the holiest place I have ever visited. In churches there, if you closely observe, you will find the devout still praying by faith, at one with the peaceful glory of the old cathedrals. This surprised me, for the French are not exactly seen as "catholic" today by outside views, but perhaps it is because of the Church's 20th century dismissal of its own rites.

Something unexpected seems now to be happening in the Catholic Church. Far from attachment to the old forms dying away, a generation of younger priests and lay Catholics is coming into view that is enthusiastically attached to the Tridentine mass, and to Catholic orthodoxy. In France, one in five of all priests currently being ordained is devoted to the old mass. And this is a committed, determined minority growing up in a virtual wasteland for the French Church. Only five per cent of French Catholics attend mass regularly. In one diocese, the Cathedral attracts seventy worshippers on Sunday, while the chapel of semi-schismatic Society of St Pius X (of Archbishop Lefebvre) attracts seven hundred to a traditional mass. Indeed, it is suggested that an actual majority of church goers on a Sunday in France attend Lefebvrist services.

For those reading this who have never attended a Latin Mass, I'm sure the article makes very little sense. It saddens me greatly that the rituals and actions that accompany the arts of the West no longer correspond with the works themselves. To paraphrase an oblivious American my sister overheard in Paris: "When I visited Notre Dame, I was shocked to see people actually praying, and like, then I realized that 'Oh yeah! It's a church that people still use!'". It's astonishing that this disconnect has happened, but its distruction is partly through the church's own doing, and of course the rise of the "modern" world. Could one imagine the implements of the Japanese tea ceremony without the matcha, or the teahouse? We display the objects of old medieval churches as such, completely out of context with its natural use. Part of this is the Church's own fault, for alienating its truest followers. To people who did not grow up Catholic like myself, this is a source of continuing confusion. There is a glimmer of hope on the horizon, and even the original 1971 petition still strikes chords in people to this day:

We are not at this moment considering the religious or spiritual experience of millions of individuals. The rite in question, in its magnificent Latin text, has also inspired a host of priceless achievements in the arts -- not only mystical works, but works by poets, philosophers, musicians, architects, painters and sculptors in all countries and epochs. Thus, it belongs to universal culture as well as to churchmen and formal Christians.

In the materialistic and technocratic civilisation that is increasingly threatening the life of mind and spirit in its original creative expression -- the word -- it seems particularly inhuman to deprive man of word-forms in one of their most grandiose manifestations.

When in London recently, my sister and I visited Westminster Cathedral with our friend Kevin. The structure is crumbling, being held in place by scaffolding, and in desperate need of renovation. Perhaps it is cliche, but it really seems like a metaphor of all Catholic traditions: the beauty of the structure is immediate, the desire to save it naturally following such feelings, but the actual progress of the preservation seems almost at a standstill, being carried on by the passionate few.