Is the Roman Mass Too Roman?

source: icrsp.org

Fifty years ago, when the liturgical reform was winding down and the Consilium's committees were assembling the final rites to be used throughout the Latin Church, the polemics persisted using the same points which, today, have become canards: legalism, corruption, pseudo-Apostolic liturgical restoration, popular accessibility and the like. Most of these points have been disproven either by later research or the history of the three generations that have lived under the new rites. One point, however, has always interested this writer and is worth a few short thoughts. It is the objection that the old Mass is, effectively, too Roman.

For the old Mass to be too "Roman" would mean that it is too based in the periods in which it came to us moderns (modernists?) in its current synthesis. The pre-Gregorian liturgy of the Roman Church is known through fragments, secondary sources, and the old allusion in another text. The genius, meant in the artistic sense, of the old Mass comes from the Church of Rome shortly after the legalization of Christianity and the transition from house churches to basilicas, Roman markets and court houses. The all-night vigil became an Office, the Canon evolved, more or less, into its current form by the time of Saint Leo the Great, the readings and lessons are considerably older than that, but are attributed to Damasus, who translated those texts, or ordered them translated, from Greek to Latin. All of these maturations occurred in an inter-connected Mediterranean world, albeit one drifting apart as the political and administrative decay of the Byzantine Empire devolved power into local hands. The particularities and defining features of the Roman rite came about in the culture that surrounded the last days of the Western Roman Empire.

The medieval promulgation of the Roman rite and its local reception gave us the Mass we know today and the propers that existed at the dawn of the 20th century. It would be tempting to call the Roman rite "European", but the people of that time had no concept of "Europe", just Christendom, in which they would even include their separated Eastern brethren. 

These bits of history are worth recalling athwart accusations of the Roman rite's foreign nature for broader use. The main accusation against the Roman Mass, in the mid-20th century, came during an age of extensive missionary outreach in Africa and Asia which was also an age of de-colonization by the European powers. It begs the question: what would an African see in the Roman rite that was so "European" that it would offend him to the point of refusing the Catholic faith? Or would the entire thing just appear so strange that he would listen to its priests or engage its worship at all?

Some elements of the old Mass, especially as practiced at the time, are quite "European" and in a way that comes off as strange today as it did then. Pontifical Mass serves as an excellent example. Medieval pontifical Mass, both Roman [Papal] and local rites, was an occasion of Communion between a priest and those who received Holy Orders from him. Priests and deacons would vest in their normal Mass vestments and, while not concelebrants, acted as servants of their bishop. The post-Tridentine manner of pontificating is a bit different. The bishop appears in the cappa magna, a Renaissance manner of "peacocking", and goes through a very fussy way of vesting; for those in doubt, see how efficiently and reverently a Greek bishop's presbyterate can accomplish the same task for him. Then there are numerous reverences to the celebrant and to the choir, often with reverences to the altar in between, during any sort of movement of the sacred ministers. These actions descend from late medieval and Baroque court ceremonies which, unlike kneeling or bowing one's head, are not in the universal vocabulary of gestures.

Perhaps certain aspects of Pontifical Mass are not for Africans, but why not the rest of the Roman Mass? Perhaps the most obviously Roman part of the old Mass is the use of the Latin language. This feature, if anything, has helped to separate the Mass from the colonists who may have originally brought the old Mass to the un-Christianized parts of the world. That the Spaniards spoke Spanish and the priests used a discernibly discreet language may well have helped the natives of South America distinguish between the faith and the intentions of the people who brought it. Catholicism persisted in South America well after the Spanish and Portuguese left and has become part of the fabric of those cultures (perhaps too much a part of society).

source: fsspx.org

I conclude with a brief recounting of the excellent work of Archbishop Lefebvre. His reputation is inextricable from the Fraternity of Saint Pius X, but the most enduring part of his legacy might be his work in French Africa. While the British developed their colonies, the French did so to a lesser extent. In Senegal, where one would be forgiven for forsaking colonial influence, Lefebvre and his priests baptized tens of thousands of catechumens into the Church, managed to construct a large cathedral, founded two seminaries, and, above all, created an indigenous clergy separate from the missionaries who initially came to Africa. Nourished by the all too Roman Mass, Africa maintained the faith and, one hopes, still does today.