Sometimes I’m asked “Why the Latin?” in regards to the
Traditional Latin Mass, or more rarely, “Why all the rigmarole?” I remember a youngish
nun (some thirty years ago now) asking in a very acidic tone, “What’s the point
of praying in Latin?” Such questions, especially asked in that acerbic tone, remind
me of a scene in one of those juvenile Austin
Powers movies (I forget which one) where in Dr. Evil has concocted some
bizarre method of doing away with Austin Powers, and Dr. Evil’s very
American-like teenage son says in exasperation, “Just shoot him. Don’t go to
all this trouble; he’ll likely escape anyway. Just shoot him.” (I’m paraphrasing
from distant memory.) Dr. Evil stares in disgust at his son and says, “You just
don’t get it, do you?”
I no longer remember now what I said to the nun, if
anything, but perhaps, in that context and with that particular individual, this
answer is as good as any: “You just don’t get it, do you?” In other words, she
wasn’t disposed to hear a real reason; it was self-evidently stupid to her and
she wouldn’t have been inclined to consider an explanation. It was inherently unreasonable
to her. She was also a nun in the modern nun sense, no habit, no apparent religious
status or affiliation at all. (I would never have guessed she was a nun if she
hadn’t been introduced to me as such by an aunt.) But for everyone else in the
world, for those Catholics or Protestants who might bring up why Traditional
Catholics (and the Orthodox) prefer “all the rigmarole”, there is a very simple
answer: the Mass is preparation for Heaven.
It’s not rocket science to figure this out, although it is spiritual science. God is a mystery;
indeed, THE Mystery, and both humans and angels can easily spend all eternity
in an eternal contemplation and communion with God and never remotely “know all
there is to know.” (We can loosely “image” eternity with God, but we can’t
really conceive it, any more than we can conceive of God.) That’s what the Old
Mass –
and of course the Orthodox liturgies – convey: we’re entering into the Eternal
Presence and utter Mystery that is God. Yet it is essential to note that for
Christians, God is in no way unknowable to us. In Islam, God is unknowable: the
Islamic afterlife for men is a carnal one, and a man’s women from this life
must endure forever their husband’s carnal frolicking with the legendary 72
virgins; but Allah is not there.
Wherever Allah is; he’s far above the “Garden of Allah”. In the religions
further Eastward, all human individuals lose their individual selves in maya, a
spiritual non-existence of spiritual existence soup, with some of them perhaps
to be reborn on Earth once again to do it all over.
In Christianity, however, God is a Person, indeed, Three
Persons in one God, and we’ll spend forever in a most personal knowing – an
eternal getting acquainted – of this Absolute Being. Angels do
this already. Their minds are mirrored back to them in God, each of the nearly innumerable
angels having his own presence in and with God. And they thus reflect the glory
of God. The higher angels in the nine choirs shine more brightly than the lower
ones because the hierarchy of Heaven gives each his unique place, closer in to
or farther out from God, and of course all
angels, being pure spirits, greatly reflect in their natures the received glory
of the Absolute Spirit. (Even devils, according to one old tradition, can’t
escape from the glory of God: the fires of Hell are nothing more than the very
presence of God endured by those who have eternally rejected Him; I’ll pass on opining
whether this idea is true or not, but it certainly makes sense: their rejection
of God is eternal, but since God Himself is eternal, they can never escape His presence).
Human beings, those admitted to Heaven, can now participate
in this Beatific Vision because of the Incarnation. The Second Person of the Holy
Trinity is now a Man, both Man and God. But why was that necessary? God took on
human nature in order to elevate human nature to the point where it could take
on God’s divine nature, making us “new creations in Christ.” This teaching is
stated in many ways throughout the New Testament. Examples: John 1:12 “But to
all who received him, who believed in his name, he gave power to become
children of God; 13 who were born, not of blood nor of the will of the flesh
nor of the will of man, but of God.” (Obviously, a new creation.) St. Paul states
it succinctly in 2 Cor 5:17, “Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new
creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here!” The chief of the Apostles
puts it best in 2 Peter 1:4: “By whom He hath given us most great and precious
promises: that by these you may be made partakers of the divine nature: flying
the corruption of that concupiscence which is in the world.” “Partakers of the
Divine Nature.” (BTW, St. Paul mentions the idea quite often: see Romans 6:4,
7:6, 12:2; Galatians 3:27; Ephesians 4:22-24; Colossians 3:8-12.) And to return
to St. John for a moment, he goes into great detail, not only for the necessity
of the Most Holy Eucharist in the 6th chapter of his gospel, but –
with this new creation idea in mind,
reread the 3rd chapter of his gospel about being “born again”.
In the Eastern Churches, this transformation in Christ is called
Theosis, and in the West, Divinization, or more likely you’ll have encountered
it as the “infusion of grace” by which we are saved. As “Divinization” may seem
outlandish to some Catholics, recall St. Athanasius: "For the Son of God became man so that we might become God." (De inc. 54, 3: PG 25, 192B) and [CCC 460] and of course St. Thomas Aquinas: "The only-begotten Son of God, wanting to make us sharers in his
divinity, assumed our nature, so that he, made man, might make men gods."
(Opusc. 57, 1-4) [CCC 460]. The Incarnation made this infusion of grace
possible, as through baptism Original Sin is removed, and then through the Holy
Eucharist, we can receive into ourselves God Himself, transforming our nature
to a higher form, one that can endure the Beatific Vision experienced by the
Angelic Host. God’s Real Presence in the Holy Eucharist is the New Covenant, for the New Testament isn’t the 27 books of the
Christian Bible but the Holy Eucharist itself. (The New Testament came to be called
that because it describes God’s saving work through the Holy Eucharist.)
Of
course, Orthodoxy and Catholicism have their differences, which in a mostly cultural
and linguistic way existed before the split in 1054, and which has grown since,
but both are “Christianity of the Real Presence”, unlike Protestantism, which
although it is a direct offspring of Catholicism, is proudly the Christianity
of the Real Absence. From Luther and Calvin on, the Real Presence of God in the
Holy Eucharist is denied: whereas in Catholicism Christ is ontologically
present, in Protestantism Christ is present only in a mnemic sense – the memory of His life and death
on Earth 2,000 years ago, so it exhibits quite a different understanding of the
importance for the Incarnation. Whereas Historical Christianity teaches we are
changed in our nature, Protestantism (generally) teaches our nature remains
sinful and fallen, but God allows us into Heaven even so: thus Luther’s famous Simul Justus et Peccator, simultaneously
justified with God and going to Heaven, but yet a sinner in our nature, as in
Luther’s analogy of a manure pile covered with snow. (N.B. C.S. Lewis contested
this idea in his 10th letter in his Letters to Malcom, Chiefly on Prayer.)
Now,
all this is truly a Mysterium Fidei, a Mystery of Faith, and the old Mass (and
Eastern Liturgies) are our introduction to it, just as in them we receive Our Blessed
Lord intimately, in Holy Communion. The old liturgy seems to the newcomer – especially a newcomer raised in
the New Mass of Paul VI or the generalized Protestant worship services – to be arcane, esoteric,
impenetrable, and mysterious. Latin itself is only one element of all of this
profundity. Yet the Old Mass existed to introduce you to the Mystery that is
God. (And the New Mass exists to remove the Mystery. But that’s a subject for
another essay.) God is all these profound mysteries to us, and far more. The
Old Mass is our boot camp, our basic training, for God’s eternity. And just as
God is not “plain English”, not something “taken in at a glance”, so neither is
the Old Mass.