THE MASS: Today; the Future

THE MASS: Today; the Future Part VIII a: The Mass of the New Translation as of 11/27/11

The New Translation of the Roman Missal Date: BeganNovember 27, 2011 Place: Catholic Churches in all English-speaking America Time: The First Sunday of Advent, 2011

Eucharist: Alive and Dynamic One conclusion to be drawn from the history of the Mass is that changes in the liturgy, whether large or small, have been occurring since the Last Supper. The basics have never changed, but the details, decisions by Church authority and the attitudes of the participants have undergone modifications and development. In this sense the celebration of the Eucharist is a dynamic and living reality. While a constant diet of experimentation is not healthy or desirable and disobedient, a loving attention to the quality of the divine celebration is a necessity. We certainly need to avoid frivolity, but we also need to avoid stagnation. The noble core of the Eucharist from the Upper Room to an urban basilica or a village church has withstood the tumults of history--and always will. For this we praise and thank God: Father, Son and Holy Spirit.

Mistranslations Congregations are now particularly aware of the extent of change as they recite the words, "Lord, I am not worthy that thou should come under my roof but only say the word, and my soul shall be healed." The present version, which is a gross mistranslation, empties the response of its scriptural echoes, reading: "Lord, I am not worthy to receive you, but only say the word and I shall be healed." The new text refers us to Luke 7:6-7, from which the words "come under my roof " (sub tectum meum) derive. This is the Gospel account of Our Lord's curing of the centurion's dying slave. The centurion says: "I am not worthy to have you come under my roof " (Catholic RSV edition). Similar illustrations can be multiplied. But what these examples demonstrate most strikingly is that English-speaking Catholics for far too long have had to put up with a poorly translated Missal text which, arguably, has eroded for many their sense of the sacred and their doctrinal understandings.

Changes in the Parts of the People in the Order of Mass in the Roman Missal, Third Edition

Et Cum Spiritu Tuo Present text: “And also with you.” New text: “And with your spirit.” It’s an accurate translation. In the original Latin, whenever the priest says to the people Dominus vobiscum (“The Lord be with you”), the people’s response is Et cum spiritu tuo, literally “And with your spirit.” It’s also the way the phrase is translated in almost every other language, including French, Spanish and Italian (Et avec votre esprit, Y con tu espiritu, E con il tuo spirito), as well as by English-speaking Lutherans and Episcopalians. English-speaking Catholics are among the few that didn’t translate the phrase accurately. The new translation draws us into parallel with other language groups and traditions.” The words of the Mass are there for a reason. And the response “And with your spirit” conveys something different than “And also with you.” Et cum spiritu tuo is a liturgical greeting given to the priest at four significant moments, when the priest is about to do something that by virtue of Holy Orders he has been ordained to do: preside over the Mass, proclaim the Gospel, pray the Eucharistic prayers and dismiss the congregation.”

The congregation’s response is intended to remind the priest who he is, that he has been ontologically changed by ordination, and that it’s the spirit of Christ, to which his own spirit has been configured, which allows him to carry out those sacred tasks. It’s meant to be a reminder that what the priest is doing is not about him. It’s a reminder that this isn’t about Father and Father’s Mass. It’s about Father allowing Christ to act in him. It expresses a prayer that the ordained may be made worthy of the dignity of their divine calling. It should remind the congregation who the priest is. He’s there in the person of Christ. It also reminds the laity that the priest is doing for them what they cannot do for themselves. Through the grace of the Holy Spirit he has been conformed to Christ and is therefore able to transform gifts of bread and wine into Christ’s Body and Blood.

St. John Chrysostom (c. 349–407), a Doctor of the Church in his catechesis on the Sacred Liturgy. “And with your spirit," calls ‘spirit’ not the soul which is in the priest, but the Spirit which the priest has received by the laying on of the hands. By the laying on of hands the priest receives the power of the Spirit that thereby he may be able to carry out the divine mysteries. That grace the people call the ‘Spirit’ of the priest, and they pray that he may attain peace with it and it with him. This shows that even the priest needs prayer, and it is necessary that the whole Church should intercede for him.”

Consubstantialem Present text: “One in being with the Father” during the Nicene Creed. New text: “consubstantial with the Father.” Seventeen hundred years ago, the Catholic Church was drawn into a knockdown, drag-out fight about how to best express the relationship between God the Father and God the Son. The fight was sparked by the Alexandrian priest Arius. He and his followers, dubbed Arians, argued that the Father and Son were of like substance, homoiousios, but that the Son had not always been with the Father, that the Father had in fact pre-existed the Son. Arius’ bishop, Alexander, however, said otherwise. Siding with the pope and the majority of Catholic bishops, he defended the teaching that the Father and Son were of the same substance, or homoousios. He also defended the belief that the Father and Son were co-eternal, that they had existed together through all eternity. One “iota” was all that differentiated homoiousios from homoousios. But for that “iota” Catholics gave their lives, and bishops such as St. Athanasius and St. Hilary of Poitiers were sent into exile (Athanasius no fewer than five times). In 325, however, the Council of Nicaea definitively settled the question, declaring the Father and Son were of the same substance, homoousios.

In the Latin version of the creed that bears the council’s name and enshrined the correct definition of the relationship between the Father and the Son, the Church Fathers translated homoousios as consubstantialem. The English translation of consubstantialem is the nearly identical “consubstantial,” and in the English translations of the Creed that preceded the 1970 translation, “consubstantial” was the word most often used. But with the introduction of the Pauline Mass in 1970, “consubstantial” was dropped from the Creed. In its place was the phrase, “one in being.” The substitution was made for simplicity’s sake. “One in being” seemed more understandable and accessible than “consubstantial.” When the new translation of the Roman Missal goes into effect next Advent, “consubstantial” will return to its traditional place in the Nicene Creed. The reason for that switch is much the same as the reason homoousios trumped homoiousios in 325. It more accurately describes the relationship between God the Father and God the Son. “One in being” is vague and open to misinterpretation. The Father is the source of all being. He is the sole Being whose essence is his existence, and he gives all of us our being and existence. So, to a certain extent, we’re all ‘one in being’ with the Father. That doesn’t say anything unique about Christ.

Just because ‘one in being’ is three simple words in a row doesn’t mean that the average person understands what the phrase means. In fact, many don’t. The simplicity of the phrase is deceptive. It rolls off the tongue without ever forcing people to stop and think about what they’re saying. But what they’re saying is something that has to be thought about -- deeply thought about-- to even remotely be understood. When people first hear they’ll be saying ‘consubstantial,’ their first response is, ‘I don’t know what that means. Why can’t we use a word I understand?’” But we’re talking about a mystery that no one fully understands and that can’t be fully articulated. In some ways the use of the word helps us confront the mystery, to stand before the mystery.” People in centuries past have given their lives defending these words. Words are crucial. And this word, consubstantial, is crucial to helping us understand the relationship between the Father and the Son.

Pro Multis Present text: “This is the cup of my blood, the blood of the new and everlasting covenant. It will be shed for you and for all so that sins may be forgiven.” New text: “For this is the chalice of my Blood, the Blood of the new and eternal covenant, which will be poured out for you and for many for the forgiveness of sins.” In the Sacred Liturgy, there is no moment more important or more filled with grace than when the priest repeats Christ’s words, first spoken at the Last Supper, and bread and wine become Body and Blood. For the past 40 years, English-speaking Catholics have heard those words of consecration, when spoken over the cup, translated as: “Take this, all of you, and drink from it: This is the cup of my blood, the blood of the new and everlasting covenant. It will be shed for you and for all so that sins may be forgiven. Do this in memory of me.” As of Nov. 27, however, Catholics will instead hear: “Take this, all of you, and drink from it: For this is the chalice of my Blood, the Blood of the new and eternal covenant, which will be poured out for you and for many for the forgiveness of sins. Do this in memory of me.”

Most of those changes won’t raise any eyebrows. Chalice, rather than cup. Poured, rather than shed. Eternal, rather than everlasting. Each has its significance, and together they give a more poetic and reverent tone to the prayer, but none are controversial or puzzling. The same can’t be said, however, of the phrase, “for you and for many.” At first hearing, it sounds as if the Church is saying that Christ didn’t die for everyone, that there’s some special subclass of human persons who aren’t of salvation-grade quality. But that can’t be what the Church actually means. Or is it? The answer is no ... and yes. Christ did die for everyone. He offers salvation to all. But not everyone accepts what he offers. That’s what the phrase “for you and for many” reminds us. And that’s what the original Latin says. In Latin, the phrase used is qui pro vobis et pro multis, which literally means “for you and for many,” or “for you and the many.” “The many” can mean the same thing as “all,” but traditionally that’s not how the phrase has been interpreted, not by Catholics and not by Protestants who continue to use the words “for many” in their own communion services.

In part, "for many” has been used rather than “the many” because the passage is a translation of the words Jesus spoke at the Last Supper, words which allude to a passage from Isaiah 53 about the suffering servant who would make many righteous. It’s also been translated as “many” rather than “the many” or “all,” because of Jesus’ own words about heaven and hell in Matthew 7:14: “How narrow the gate and constricted the road that leads to life. And those who find it are few.” On a spring day outside Jerusalem the Second Person of the Trinity saved every member of the human race, potentially. It’s ‘potentially’ because not everyone will be saved. The Lord says that in the Gospel. Again, however, that’s not to say that Jesus doesn’t want to save everyone. He does. But in order to receive salvation, something on our part needs to happen. We don’t earn our salvation, but we need to embrace it and live it. Our decisions have consequences. By returning to the traditional “for you and for many,” the Church asks us to remember that. The words remind us that there is no such thing as automatic salvation. Just because someone poured water on your head 50 years ago doesn’t mean you’re saved. They also force us to confront our own sins. They’re meant to be a call to an examination of conscience. At every given celebration of the Mass, they’re an invitation to ask, ‘Where do I stand? I recognize Christ has died, so what have I done to accept it?’

Mea Culpa, Mea Culpa, Mea Maxima Culpa Now we say, “I confess to almighty God and to you my brothers and sisters that I have sinned through my own fault in my thoughts and in my deeds, in what I have done and what I have failed to do.” We will be saying, “I confess to almighty God and to you, my brothers and sisters, that I have greatly sinned in my thoughts and in my words, in what I have done and what I have failed to do, through my fault, through my fault, through my most grievous fault.” The new translation of the Roman Missal won’t just bring a change in words. It will also bring a change in tone, calling for greater humility from both the priest and the congregation. Consider, for example, the language of the Confiteor. In the current penitential rite, we pray, “I confess to almighty God and to you my brothers and sisters that I have sinned through my own fault in my thoughts and in my deeds, in what I have done and what I have failed to do.” With the new translation, however, we will pray, “I confess to almighty God and to you, my brothers and sisters, that I have greatly sinned in my thoughts and in my words, in what I have done and what I have failed to do, through my fault, through my fault, through my most grievous fault.”

Likewise, in the introduction to the penitential rite, the priest no longer calls upon the congregation to “acknowledge our failures,” but rather to “acknowledge our sins.” As with the other changes, the new translation is just faithfully rendering what’s always been there in the original Latin. And what’s there isn’t there to make us think badly about ourselves. It’s there to make us think rightly about ourselves. The words are intended to help us realize how grateful we should be. In spite of the fact that we’ve gravely sinned and have grievous faults, we have a God of mercy who died for us. We need to realize the gift that our salvation is. We also need to realize that we all need that salvation. In the culture today, many of us have an ‘I’m OK, you’re OK’ attitude,’ But we’re not. We’re broken people in need of being fixed. We need God. We’re completely dependent on him, and without him, we’re nothing. Unfortunately, most of us only remember that in times of great need. The language of the Mass tries to help us realize that in good times as well. It also reminds us that God is not a vending machine for spiritual and material favors, dispensing grace at our command. In the new translation, you hear the priest saying things such as, ‘humbly we beg you,’ ‘we beseech you,’ ‘be pleased to grant.’

There’s less bossing, less ‘Lord do this,’ and more petitioning, more ‘Lord, grant this we humbly pray.’ It articulates the truth that we don’t dare just present a list of demands to God. We’re not engaged in commodity trading. Everything is a gift and only because God is gracious and merciful do we dare approach him, let alone receive the gift of a response. In articulating that, the new translation does what the Mass is supposed to do: It puts us in right relationship with God. It also reminds us who we are. We are beggars before God. We are not his equals. He’s not our buddy. He is our Creator, and as his creatures we owe him adoration. We haven’t come to Mass to give orders, but to receive orders. The current texts have blocked that distinction. All this matters, of course, because in the journey to holiness, humility is a must. Humility involves real knowledge of self. Even the ancient pagan Greeks understood the importance of that. ‘Know thyself,’ said the Delphic Oracle. Christians recognize humility as the first rung on the ladder of perfection. The final rung is charity, but the journey starts with humility. It’s where the path of perfection begins.

In the Gloria, "peace to his people on earth" becomes "peace on earth to people of good will," which is literally what the Latin says, although the inclusive "people" is retained for hominibus, which is literally the generic "men.“ "Sin" of the world now becomes "sins" of the world-the Latin peccata being plural. "Sin" suggests a collective guilt or "sinful structures" rather than our personal sinfulness. The omission in the present translation of numerous expressions in the Latin text that emphasize a Catholic theological understanding has been rectified in the new translation. Examples of these include the phrase only begotten Son, of your bounty, deigned, humbly, blessed, almighty, most merciful, glorious, and graciously. Another significant change occurs in the Nicene Creed, where Credois translated accurately as "I believe" rather than the present "We believe." In addition, people are reminded to bow at the words "and by the Holy Spirit became incarnate of the Virgin Mary, and was made man." This practice, while called for in the present Missal, is rarely encountered.

It seems taken for granted, even by those who should know better, that most Catholics now find the generic expression "man"--meaning the human race--jarring. Yet one continues to hear in science documentaries about the origins of man. Fortunately, there are few such "lapses" in the new translation. The Orate Fratres (Pray my brothers and sisters, or more literally, my brethren) translates meum ac vestrum sacrificium as "my sacrifice and yours" and not "our sacrifice." The latter blurs the role of the priest celebrant and worshippers. Perhaps the most striking example of the liberties taken by the earlier ICEL translators can be found in Eucharistic Prayer I (the original Roman Canon carried over from the Tridentine Mass). Here, the present English version is almost unrecognizable when set against the Latin edition and the new draft translation, which follows the Latin text closely and restores a much-needed sense of the sacred. A typical example of the new prose used is: "Most merciful Father, we therefore humbly pray and implore you through Jesus Christ, your Son, our Lord, to accept and bless these gifts, these offerings, these holy and undefiled sacrifices.”

At the beginning of Eucharistic Prayer III, the words, "From age to age you gather a people to yourself, so that from east to west a perfect offering may be made to the glory of your name," becomes in the new translation: “You never cease to gather a people to yourself, so that from the rising of the sun to its setting a pure oblation may be offered to your name“ --with geographical space transformed into time. In the introduction to the Our Father, the present words "Jesus taught us to call God our Father, and so we have the courage to say" become the more literal: "Taught by commands that bring salvation and formed by the divine instruction, we have the courage to say." The celebrant's words before Communion are currently: "Lord Jesus Christ, with faith in your love and mercy I eat your body and drink your blood. Let it not bring me condemnation, but health in mind and body." The new version reads: "May receiving your Body and Blood, Lord Jesus Christ, not bring me to judgment and condemnation, but through your love and mercy let it be my protection in mind and body, and a healing remedy."

The priest says in the present Missal: "This is the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world. Happy are those who are called to his supper." The new version is far more striking, with the words "This is" replaced by the stronger (and more accurate) "Behold" (Ecce), and the word "happy" by "blessed" (beati): "Behold the Lamb of God, behold him who takes away the sins of the world. Blessed are they who have been called to the supper of the Lamb."

End of The History of the Mass: The New Translation, 2011, Part VIII a Go to The History of the Mass: The New Translation, 2011, Part VIII b

THE MASS: Today; the Future