The next sentence of the Roman Canon is:
Memento, Dómine, famulórum famularumque tuárum N., et N., et omnium circumstantium, quorum tibi fides cógnita est et nota devotio, pro quibus tibi offérimus: vel qui tibi ófferunt hoc sacrificium laudis, pro se suisque ómnibus: pro redemptióne animárum suárum, pro spe salútis et incolumitátis suæ: tibíque reddunt vota sua aeterno Deo, vivo et vero.Which the 2011 ICEL edition translates as:
Remember, Lord, your servants N. and N. and all gathered here, whose faith and devotion are known to you. For them, we offer you this sacrifice of praise or they offer it for themselves and all who are dear to them: for the redemption of their souls, in hope of health and well-being, and paying their homage to you, the eternal God, living and true. [1]
And which I translate as:
Be mindful, O Lord, of Thy servants and handmaidens, N. et N. and of all those standing around, whose faith is known to You and whose devotion is recognized by You, for whom we offer, or who offer up to You, this sacrifice of praise for themselves and for all their own, for the redemption of their souls, in hope of salvation and health; and who now pay their vows to Thee, the everlasting, living and true God.
It is sentences like these that justifies a series like this, for it contains several words with nuances that can get lost in translation. To wit:
Memento can indeed be translated as “remember,” but it is etymologically related to the Latin mens (mind). “Be mindful” captures this connotation and conjures up the image of making God’s servants present to His mind. They who are present to the altar wish to be present to God.
Famuli. In Latin, a servus is a generic slave but a famulus is a domestic servant and therefore closer to the family. The prayer could have referred to all of God’s servants, male and female, with the generic male noun famuli, but instead it uses a noun for the males (famuli) and a noun for the females (famulae). This convention is also followed in the Roman Orations. There is a pleasing meter to this expanded version, the words forming a cursus velox.
Roman famuli
Circumstantes. In the post-Conciliar era, there has been a peculiar fixation with the concept of the Church as a gathered assembly (think The Gather Hymnal and Marty Haugen’s hymn “Gather Us In”), a fixation that may have influenced the decision to translate circumstantes as “those gathered here.” The Latin, however, literally means “those standing around” and probably refers to the early Christian practice of standing during the liturgy rather than kneeling. A less literal translation is “those here present.”
Cognita est, etc. The ICEL translation renders quorum tibi fides cognita est et nota devotio as “whose faith and devotion are known to you,” and understandably so, since the original is clunkier and seemingly redundant, adding an extra verb that does not add much to the meaning. Nevertheless, the Latin is more faithfully represented as “whose faith is known to You and whose devotion is recognized by You”, because nota is a second participle in reference to devotio. Such additions I file under the category of “virtually necessary ornamentation.” And whereas famulorum famularumque rolls off the tongue, cognita est et nota devotio is a cursus tardus that forces the speaker to slow down.
Pro quibus tibi offerimus, etc. This clause presents more theological challenges than linguistic. The “we offer” is most likely a reference to the priest, deacon, and subdeacon at a solemn high Mass, but who are those who offer it up themselves: the rest of the liturgical ministers in the sanctuary or, as is more likely, the laity in the pews? If the latter, it is a confirmation of the Orate, fratres, that both priest and laity offer up the Mass, albeit in significantly different ways.
Suisque. Whoever the offerers are, they offer up the Mass for themselves and for all their own, which the ICEL translation eloquently renders “all who are dear to them.” I retain the more awkward “all their own” because of its enormous philosophical significance. In Plato’s Republic, “loyalty to one’s own” is singled out as the greatest cause of political mischief. It is because we remain loyal to our own (our own family, our own friends, our own gild, class, race, sex, etc.) that we short shrift the common good, the good of the whole, and pursue policies that benefit “our people” to the detriment of others. Christianity seemingly sides with Socrates in commending a religion in which there is neither Jew nor Greek, bond nor free, male nor female, (see Gal. 3, 28) and which enjoins its believers to hate their father and mother and wife and children and brethren and sisters. (see Lk. 14, 26) But this sentence of the Canon subtly acknowledges that life is more complicated than that, that even after accepting the Church as one’s true family, one still has one’s own to look after—certainly not in the same bigoted way as before, but they are still there nonetheless, still looking to you for help and support. It is for these that we also offer up the Mass.
One’s own
Sacrificium laudis. To refer to the Sacrifice of the Mass as the sacrifice of praise is potentially confusing, since the latter phrase is often used to refer to the Divine Office as opposed to the Eucharistic liturgy. But it could be a reminder that the Mass is the nonbloody re-presencing of the bloody Paschal Mystery. And together with the last line of the sentence, it is possibly also an allusion to Psalm 49, 13-14:
Shall I eat the flesh of bullocks? Or shall I drink the blood of goats?Offer to God the sacrifice of praise: and pay thy vows to the most High.
Incolumitas, which I have translated as “health,” also means “good condition” or “soundness.” [2] The adjective incolumis was sometimes paired with salvus to express the concept of something being safe and sound (salvus atque incolumis). [3] Here, the noun incolumitas is paired with the noun salus. Salus also means “health,” but in Christian parlance it more commonly designates salvation. Incolumitas, by contrast, seems to have retained its more natural meaning in the Patristic and medieval eras. I therefore suspect that this prayer is asking for both eternal salvation and bodily health. ICEL, on the other hand, seems to have in mind a more natural explanation for both words, translating the phrase as “health and well-being,” which is also a valid interpretation.
Notes
[1] 2011 Roman Missal, p. 636.
[2] “Incŏlŭmĭtas, ātis, f.” Lewis and Short Latin Dictionary.
[3] See Julius Caesar, De Bello Civili 2.32.12; cf. 1.72.3.
