Wednesday, March 26, 2025

Do Priests or Religious Need Special Permission to Pray a Pre-55 Breviary?

On occasion, I receive an email like the following (in this case, from a seminarian): “Do you happen to know of any sources/authoritative references which you could point me to that explain why praying the Pre-55 Breviary definitely satisfies the canonical obligation for clerics or religious? As I am strongly desirous of the Pre-55 Liturgy, I wanted to check all my p’s and q’s.” (The same question could be asked, mutatis mutandis, about taking up a pre-Pius X breviary as well.)

My Initial View

In the past, my standard line has been: There is no official statement that you can do this. If one can do it, it is because “what earlier generations held as sacred, remains sacred and great for us too, and it cannot be all of a sudden entirely forbidden or even considered harmful. It behooves all of us to preserve the riches which have developed in the Church’s faith and prayer, and to give them their proper place.” It can be done because it is the Church’s venerable and immemorial lex orandi. If you are confident that this is true, then you have sufficient certainty that by fulfilling the obligation as it was fulfilled by countless saints before you, you too are fulfilling it today, in a way that is supererogatory inasmuch as it goes above and beyond the minimum that is required by current law.

However, I thought it best to solicit a variety of opinions from experts. I will now share their responses. As you’ll see, opinions differ, but a certain majority consensus emerges.


Expert Opinion #1 (a secular priest from an Ecclesia Dei institute)

“I am a bit more cautious when it comes to using an older version of the Office than an older version of the Missal, because I see a distinction between, on the one hand, something being the public prayer of the Church and, on the other, something fulfilling a positive obligation imposed by the Church through the power of the keys.

“I would say that if one were to pray the Office using an older version, it would still be the public prayer of the Church. But because the obligation to recite the Divine Office and its binding under the pain of mortal sin is something produced by positive ecclesiastical law, if the requirements as set forth by the law are not fulfilled, then the penalty is incurred. This is different from the Missal as there is, in general, no obligation under penalty to celebrate Mass—an exception being if it is required for the faithful to fulfill an obligation of attendance. For example, I would say that if Pius X had decided that secular clergy or clergy with pastoral responsibilities were bound to recite only Lauds and Vespers, they would fulfill their obligation and avoid sin by doing so, while if they went beyond this, it would still be part of the public prayer of the Church.

“Touching on this topic, ‘Art. 9 §3 of the Motu Proprio Summorum Pontificum gives clerics the faculty to use the Breviarium Romanum in effect in 1962, which is to be prayed entirely and in the Latin language’ (Universae ecclesiae, 32). This expresses that the obligation can be fulfilled using the ’62 Breviary. This does not really answer the question definitively, but it might help shape the direction the discussion might go and the points which need to be considered in answer the question.”

Expert Opinion #2 (a Benedictine monk)

“Would the praying of the pre-55 Breviary constitute a mortal sin if ecclesiastical discipline established that one must pray the 1962 Breviary? Frankly, I think this is the sort of positivist nonsense that got us into trouble in the first place.

“The promise at ordination is to pray the Divine Office. Period. The Paul VI Liturgy of the Hours is so edited and short that I do not know how someone could possibly incur sin by saying the John XXIII breviary instead, as it is much longer and more demanding. (Imaginary confession: ‘Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. I have prayed 150 psalms in the Office this week rather than 62.25!’) So too, the older versions are still more demanding. (‘Bless me, Father, I have prayed the Octave of All Saints and enjoyed it! Can this really be a sin?’) Give me a break!

“In the early days of the Ecclesia Dei Commission, Cardinal Mayer was asked by a priest for permission to say the old breviary. His response was that no permission was needed because it is longer than the Breviary of Paul VI. Enough said. So too, the policy of positivism falls, for now Summorum Pontificum is abrogated. The Missal of 1962 is mandated by Summorum; yet it and all its predecessors are forbidden by Traditionis Custodes. Et cetera. Are we supposed to change our liturgical and devotional life with each new pontificate? Come on!

“If a seminarian wishes to pray more, let us thank God and concern ourselves with those who don’t pray the breviary at all.”


My response to the monk:

I am in full agreement. Thank you for your rant. Really, we should say this: The obligation of the cleric or religious is to honor God by praying the Divine Office, consisting of the psalms and other texts. As long as he is doing this in a manner “received and approved,” he is fulfilling that task.

However, it must be recognized that the stranglehold of legal positivism is very powerful, and St. Pius X mightily contributed to it with his over-the-top language when promulgating his own new breviary:

Therefore, by the authority of these letters, We first of all abolish the order of the Psaltery as it is at present in the Roman Breviary, and We absolutely forbid the use of it after the 1st day of January of the year 1913. From that day in all the churches of secular and regular clergy, in the monasteries, orders, congregations and institutes of religious, by all and several who by office or custom recite the Canonical Hours according to the Roman Breviary issued by St. Pius V and revised by Clement VIII, Urban VIII and Leo XIII, We order the religious observance of the new arrangement of the Psaltery in the form in which We have approved it and decreed its publication by the Vatican Printing Press. At the same time, We proclaim the penalties prescribed in law against all who fail in their office of reciting the Canonical Hours every day; all such are to know that they will not be satisfying this grave duty unless they use this Our disposition of the Psaltery.
          We command, therefore, all the Patriarchs, Archbishops, Bishops, Abbots and other Prelates of the Church, not excepting even the Cardinal Archpriests of the Patriarchal Basilicas of the City, to take care to introduce at the appointed time into their respective dioceses, churches or monasteries, the Psaltery with the Rules and Rubrics as arranged by Us; and the Psaltery and these Rules and Rubrics We order to be also inviolately used and observed by all others who are under the obligation of reciting or chanting the Canonical Hours. In the meanwhile, it shall be lawful for everybody and for the chapters themselves, provided the majority of the chapter be in favor, to use duly the new order of the Psaltery immediately after its publication.
          This We publish, declare, sanction, decreeing that these Our letters always are and shall be valid and effective, notwithstanding apostolic constitutions and ordinances, general and special, and everything else whatsoever to the contrary. Wherefore, let nobody infringe or temerariously oppose this page of Our abolition, revocation, permission, ordinance, precept, statue, indult, mandate and will. But if anybody shall presume to attempt this, let him know that he will incur the indignation of Almighty God, and of His Apostles, Sts Peter and Paul.
          Given at Rome at St. Peter’s in the year of the Incarnation of the Lord 1911, on November 1st, the Feast of All Saints, in the ninth year of Our Pontificate. 

So, it seems to me, there must be a theological rationale for maintaining that something like this decree is null and void from the get-go. Not that Pius X’s breviary is thereby invalidated or rendered illegal, but his attempt to prohibit all contrary customs no matter how venerable seems like it would have to be null and void, if we take serious the concept of tradition and do not think it is totally subject to the will of the reigning pontiff (cf. Benedict XVI’s comments about the limits of the pope’s authority: “The Pope is not an absolute monarch whose thoughts and desires are law.... The Pope knows that in his important decisions, he is bound to the great community of faith of all times...,” etc.). If Benedict XVI is right, then the “sacred and great” principle takes precedence over attempts to thwart it.

One may sympathize with the hesitation of clergy or religious to take the line: “I am expressly disobeying the dictate of Pope N. in doing what I’m doing, because it rests on deeper and better principles than his.” One would, at very least, need moral certainty that one had properly understood the nature of the obligation owed to tradition in contrast with that owed to papal legislation. I am reminded here of an exchange at the trial of St. Thomas More: “What, More, you wish to be considered wiser and of better conscience than all the bishops and nobles of the realm?” To which More replied, “My lord, for one bishop of your opinion I have a hundred saints of mine; and for one parliament of yours, and God knows of what kind, I have all the General Councils for 1,000 years, and for one kingdom I have France and all the kingdoms of Christendom.”

The monk’s reply:

“Yes, moral certainty is what one needs. But that comes easily enough when positive law twists and turns back on itself every few years. Pius X was a little over-the-top on authority, perhaps understandably so. Today, when authority changes the teaching of the Church on the definitive revelation of God in Christ, on marriage, on Holy Communion, on the death penalty, on the “blessability” of same-sex unions, etc., it is hard to say that using a fuller, older breviary can be considered grave matter, let alone mortal sin. Trads often lack ecclesial, historical and theological perspective, alas. Following rules—even stupid ones—is often easier than thinking.”


Expert Opinion #3 (diocesan priest and canon lawyer)

“At first glance, it would seem that the command to pray the office must be fulfilled by the use of an edition that has been promulgated and proposed for its fulfilment. From this perspective, only the Paul VI office or the John XXIII office would fulfil the obligation, especially from the vantage of ‘public prayer of the Church,’ i.e., not something done out of personal devotion.[i]

“However, while it is true that the legislation (in Summorum Pontificum Art. 9 n. 3) only specifically mentions the 1962, I still think there is room for the pre-conciliar breviary. Two aspects argue in favor of this: antinomy and lacuna legis.

“Some would argue that this matter falls into an issue of antinomy—two laws or norms belonging to the same juridical ordering, which take place in the same space and attribute incompatible legal consequences to a certain factual situation, which prevents their simultaneous application; in other words, a factual situation with two or more legal consequences that are incompatible because of two rules. So, one might look for a ‘legislative silence’ that would speak in favor of the freedom to use an older breviary. Silence is of far greater canonical value than most people realize.

“Moreover, a failure to specifically proscribe the recitation of the pre-55 breviary would lend support to its use based on the well-established canonical practice of respecting custom; indeed, the elucidation of this issue should be based on analogous situations, e.g., what happens with the missal. Even in this iconoclastic period we are living in, the Church has allowed the use of pre-’62 ceremonies, and even though there is no obligation to celebrate Holy Mass, nevertheless, one could say that the (at times) explicit and (at other times) implicit approval of pre-’62 ceremonies suggests that the breviary could also fall into this approval, even with silence on the subject.

“I would also argue that odious and dishonest things are not to be presumed in law, and since the prayer of an older, at one time normative breviary is certainly not odious, and the use of it in no way bespeaks a desire to contravene the mens legislatoris, one could in good conscience pray the pre-55 breviary.

“Furthermore, I would add that in the modern legislation for the preconciliar liturgy—Summorum Pontificum, Traditionis Custodes, etc.—there is no explicit prohibition of the use of the earlier breviaries, and one could argue that this falls into the well-established legal principle of ‘odiosa sunt restringenda, favores sunt amplianda’: odious laws—in other words, those that restrict a right or freedom—must be interpreted strictly, in favor of those who are subject to them; while favorable laws must be interpreted broadly.

“Finally, we should take into consideration the actual state of affairs in the mess of the postconciliar world. After Vatican II, monastic communities were allowed to experiment and make up their own divine office. You can find this out by visiting almost any community at random: they are all doing different things. There is a principle in the Church: ‘office for office.’ I was visiting an abbey in another country and I noticed that their monastic office was different. I wondered aloud to the prior if praying it would suffice to fulfill my obligation, and he said: ‘office for office,’ meaning, I could substitute the office prayed in common in the abbey for the office I would have prayed from the breviary (so, their morning prayer for my morning prayer, etc.). I do not know how far this notion of ‘office for office’ could be taken, but it seems to suggest that the Church regards it as sufficient if a priest or religious offers the daily round of prayers and praises in any accepted (or even tolerated) form.”


Expert Opinion #4 (another Benedictine)

“I was not convinced by the Benedictine’s first opinion. When he calls the priest’s opinion ‘legal positivism,’ is he denying that this is a matter of positive law? Or is he saying that even though it is a matter of positive law, it should be obvious that this particular law (requiring the Pius X office or the ’62 office) is beyond the authority of the legislator?

As far as I can see, the only real argument he gives (in his first response) is that the old office is much longer than that of Paul VI. To me, this is not convincing. If I am bound by a lawful superior to go to Texas, I don’t fulfill my duty by going to China on the grounds that it is a harder trip. The comparison is not simply ‘more’ in the sense that option 2 includes everything option 1 includes, plus some. That would be different. For the question is not, can a priest pray the whole Paul VI office and then pray the pre-’55 in addition, but rather, can he replace the one with the other? If the Church is a visible body with a visible head who has a real legislative authority, one must allow that positive laws can exist and should be obeyed, even when they are bad laws (I don’t mean sinful, but just mistaken or dumb, or otherwise flawed).

“The monk’s second reply (to your implied objection from Pius X) is more to the point. As far as I can see, the moral certainty that we can stick to the old stuff arises predominantly from the evidence that the new stuff is not simply ‘less,’ or that it does away with a 1,000-year-old tradition, but that it is really somehow against the faith. I don’t mean that the breviary itself of Paul VI contains heresies. Rather, I think one can look at the whole shebang since Vatican II, look at the current pontificate, and reasonably conclude that there is an evil and anti-Catholic trend which encompasses, more or less clearly, all the reforms in the past several decades. The result would be a strong doubt about the obligation to comply, and at least a reasonable guess that sticking to pre-reform prayer is safe, despite what the pope says.

“I don’t want to downplay the importance of tradition, but the fact stands that there is no clear teaching (as far as I know) about the limits of papal authority. For instance, we have no council that says ‘if anyone says a pope can change a tricentennial liturgical custom, let him be anathema.’ And, in fact, the texts we do have tend in the opposite direction.

“As far as I can see, there is no way to know with certainty that Pius X overstepped his authority and that his decree was null. And, as a side note, I am not convinced that this is a purely post-Vatican I problem either. Gregory VII tried aggressively to replace the Mozarabic liturgy with the Roman Liturgy, invoking his papal right to do so. At the same time, I think there is a good deal of evidence to reasonably conclude—notice, I do not say conclude with certainty—that the traditions prior to Vatican II can be safely used, based on the overwhelming evidence that the Church has tended in an anti-Catholic direction since that time.

“The diocesan canonist’s opinion is more convincing to me as well, but for different reasons. It acknowledges that this is a matter of positive law but seeks to answer the question within the framework of positive law. I am not qualified to assess the argument canonically but it seems reasonable. As the aforementioned moral argument is sufficient (in my mind at least), I don’t really bother with trying to find solutions within the letter of the law.”


My response to the last (and in general):

I think the logically possible approaches are well summarized in the expert opinions 1, 2, and 3.

Does a pope have authority to require a certain form of prayer? I think the question is ambiguous. If the form he requires represents a radical break with the form required for centuries and centuries, then we might have a problem on our hands—one that could result in a true crisis of conscience. This is where the fateful combination of legal positivism and ever-expanding ultramontanism presses comes in, for the question is rendered easy if you say the pope has absolute authority over everything liturgical (except for a highly distilled “form and matter” of sacraments), and that the only duty of the subordinate to obey his will (or his whims).

But since this is not the way the Church has behaved throughout her history—in fact, it is the opposite of the way she has behaved—and there are sound theological, anthropological, and moral reasons to think that this cannot be right, one may arrive at the position of the Benedictine monk who says it is absurd to believe that praying a traditional “received and approved” form of the liturgy could be wrong, or ruled out as sinful.

The Texas/China analogy fails because, in fact, we are talking about different forms or versions of the same thing, namely, the divine office by which the hours of the day are to be sanctified through the recitation of psalms and prayers. A form that is both more ancient and more extensive would satisfy a requirement that one must do something of the same kind that is more recent and more restricted. The only way it could be maintained that a later form must replace an earlier form is if there was something wrong with the earlier form.

Indeed, this is why, when Urban VIII changed all the breviary hymn language, the religious communities (Benedictines, Cistercians, Dominicans, some others too) simply begged off and said they were content with the language of the hymns as they existed in their own offices. The new language and the old could exist side-by-side. Nor did that pope, or any other, dare to force the matter. That’s because there once was respect for autonomy and diversity, as opposed to now, when everyone talks about these things but no one actually respects them.

The fact that there is no explicit statement that the pope cannot cancel out “received and approved rites” of venerable standing is because it would have seemed ridiculous to our forebears to think that he could. You might remember the episode at Vatican I:

Now before the final vote on Pastor Aeternus at Vatican I, several Council Fathers were concerned that they would be voting for a doctrine that would give the pope absolute and unqualified jurisdictional authority. Various (documented) discussions were given by members of the Deputation of the Faith assuring the Council Fathers that this was not a correct understanding of the doctrine. That is, they (the Relators of the Deputation) stated that the pope, in his jurisdictional authority, does not have absolute and unqualified jurisdictional authority. One Council Father, however, an American named Bishop Verot of Savannah, apparently was not convinced, and requested that specific qualifying statements (to the effect that the pope’s jurisdictional authority is qualified) be inserted into the texts of the schemas. He was told that the Council Fathers had not come to Rome “to hear buffooneries.” In other words, if this bishop had understood the theological context of the schema, he would not have put himself in such an embarrassing situation. (Brill, Great Sacred Music Reform, 47n25)
I rather regret that it seemed so obvious to the fathers of Vatican I, because I think the qualifying language that Bishop Verot wanted would have been exceedingly useful at present. Of course, when the German bishops got around to explaining Vatican I to Prussia, they did add a number of valuable clarifications, though again, their document suffers from vagueness (just what does “human arbitrariness” amount to? What does it look like? How do we know it when we see it?—assuredly, it seems that today we know it when we see it, because popes have gone so far off the deep end in this or that instance). I tried to bring some clarity to this topic in my lecture “The Pope’s Boundedness to Tradition as a Legislative Limit: Replying to Ultramontanist Apologetics.” Fr. Réginald-Marie Rivoire also discusses this point in his tract Does “Traditionis Custodes” Pass the Juridical Rationality Test? (to which the answer is, no).

Now, if it could be shown that anything demanded by a pope was contrary to the faith or to sound morals, that in itself would be a reason to say no to it and to stick with what was there before. This, evidently, is what we must do with something like Amoris Laetitia. But it seems also true to say that if something demanded by a pope is followed by a period of uninterrupted institutional chaos or decline, it becomes suspect by that very fact; or (perhaps this is to say the same thing) that in a period of institutional chaos or decline, it is legitimate to maintain the “status quo ante,” much as Lefebvre maintained that he realized he had to stick with the missal prior to the deformations of the 1960s that led to the Novus Ordo of 1969. (Sadly, neither he nor the Society has ever quite figured out that the changes in the 1950s were part of the same process of deformation, and therefore should have been rejected for exactly the same reason. It was the same people with the same principles who were behind both phases, before and after the Council.)

This is really all the light I have, and it may not be much. It seems to me that at this time in particular, when the postconciliar autodemolition of the Church is plain for all to see, there is no reason to doubt anymore that the liturgical revolution—which had its ill-starred conception in Pius X’s hyperpapalist revamp of the breviary, its ominous childhood in Pius XII’s rewriting of Holy Week, and its monstrous adulthood in the ruptures of Paul VI—is something that cannot be of God, cannot be truly “of the Church,” and cannot be for the good of souls.

Granted, each stage is worse than the one before, such that, as I argue in chapter 12 of Once and Future Roman Rite, there are fewer objections one can make to earlier stages and more to later ones, which also implies that adhering to the earlier is less problematic than adhering to the latter (e.g., praying the breviary of Pius X is not as bad as using the Holy Week of Pius XII, and using the Holy Week of Pius XII is not as bad as using the missal of Paul VI). But since there is a real continuity of principles, one is fully justified in taking the whole series as a single process, and saying, as a matter of coherent traditionalism: I will pray the breviary and the missal as they existed prior to this revolutionary process.

Benedictines are fortunate in this regard, as they have the unchanged cursus psalmorum of St. Benedict, nice editions of their choir books, and an altar missal from the first half of the 20th century. All this is “ready to go” in a way that makes the Roman situation look terribly messy by comparison. That’s why I’m not surprised that a number of secular clergy have become or seek to become Benedictine oblates: it gives them a direct channel to a full set of traditional liturgical books still in use in a fair number of abbeys in communion with the Holy See.
 
NOTE

[i] A clause in Rubricarum instructum of Pope John XXIII seems intended to close the lid on the issue (mind you, only for those with an obligation to the Divine Office): no. 3, “Item statuta, privilegia, indulta et consuetudines cuiuscumque generis, etiam saecularia et immemorabilia, immo specialissima atque individua mentione digna, quae his rubricis obstant, revocantur.” However, the pope left an exclusion clause in no. 3: “quae his rubricis obstant.” What exactly this amounts to would need further investigation.

Monday, January 16, 2023

Can a Bishop Restrict a “Private Mass” in the Usus Antiquior to a Priest and a Server?

In certain dioceses, Traditionis Custodes is being “applied” in ways that go well beyond what would be required by the letter of the law (such as it is; Fr. Réginald-Marie Rivoire in his masterful canonical tract has shown that it is bad law and worse theology; see also my article on newly-ordained priests and permission to offer the usus antiquior). One such way is when bishops attempt to redefine “private Mass” as a Mass at which only a priest and a server are present, and no one else.

Let’s begin with a preliminary canonical matter. If a bishop merely tells his priests that this will be his policy, or has it communicated to them in an informal way, then it is neither valid nor legally enforceable, the reason being given in a series of canons:

Can. 49. A singular precept is a decree which directly and legitimately enjoins a specific person or persons to do or omit something, especially in order to urge the observance of law.

Can. 51. A decree is to be issued in writing, with the reasons at least summarily expressed if it is a decision.

Can. 54. §1. A singular decree whose application is entrusted to an executor takes effect from the moment of execution; otherwise, from the moment it is made known to the person by the authority of the one who issued it. §2. To be enforced, a singular decree must be made known by a legitimate document according to the norm of law.

Can. 55. Without prejudice to the prescripts of cann. 37 and 51, when a very grave reason prevents the handing over of the written text of a decree, the decree is considered to have been made known if it is read to the person to whom it is destined in the presence of a notary or two witnesses. After a written record of what has occurred has been prepared, all those present must sign it.
What is to be gathered from these canons is that the bishop would have had to present such a limitation on the rights of a priest in writing and properly promulgate it. If a bishop intends to ban something that a priest is otherwise entitled to, he must issue it in writing, because it has to be the sort of thing capable of being challenged by those affected by it. Otherwise, it would just be a form of bullying: “You gotta do this because I say so,” with no paper trail. Now, in the case at hand (where a bishop attempts to redefine a private Mass), what right of a priest would be being infringed?
Can. 906. Except for a just and reasonable cause, a priest is not to celebrate the Eucharistic sacrifice without the participation of at least some member of the faithful.
Note that Can. 906 normally requires that there be “at least some member of the faithful,” which is deliberately open-ended: it could logically and legally include several people, indeed it could include a large church packed to the rafters. This remains true for a Mass that an unimpeded priest offers on any day of the week in any legitimate place for any legitimate reason. That would include a Mass held, for appropriate reason, in a side chapel, at a school or a retreat center, in a rectory chapel, at a house, etc.

Now, Pope John XXIII in the 1960 Code of Rubrics, n. 269 (and after him, Paul VI in the encyclical Mysterium Fidei, nn. 32–33) rejected the term “private Mass” because a Mass of its very nature is a social act—even when said by a priest with a server and no one else. Historically and juridically, a “Missa privata meant a Mass “deprived” of solemnity or ceremonial—a low Mass at a side altar in contrast with a solemn conventual Mass. Only later and colloquially did it acquire the sense of “unofficial, unscheduled, unadvertised.” Nevertheless, we can reasonably describe a Mass that is said on private property (not in a diocesan property) and not advertised to the public, and without pomp and circumstance, as a “private Mass.”[1] There is no canonical rule against doing this, nor, for the reasons given, could a merely verbal instruction from a bishop suffice.

(Let us be clear about this point: Any implementation of Traditionis Custodes that is not formally committed to writing in such a way that it might be canonically evaluated and challenged is invalid on the face of it and cannot be enforced.)

It is arbitrary to limit servers to a single one. There is no canonical basis for such a limit. A priest could have one, two, or three servers, or as many as seemed conveniens. Similarly, it is arbitrary to specify that a server can be present but not, say, three lay people who are simply attending and praying. Unless the server is ordained to the minor order of acolyte or installed in the “ministry” of acolyte, the server is simply a layman wearing a cassock and surplice and offering some assistance. There would be no objective basis for the aforementioned limit. Indeed, since the very term “private Mass” is to be avoided as per the 1960 Code of Rubrics (n. 269), one might consider any policy couched in terms of “private Mass” to be theologically unsound, and therefore deserving to be ignored.

Prior to 1958, the term “missa privata,” when used by the Holy See, carried with it various valences of meaning: conditions of privacy, lack of solemnity or music, etc.[2] I can only assume that a bishop today might use it in the sense of Mass “sine populo,” as the distinction exists in the Novus Ordo texts.[3] This concept does not, however, exist for the usus antiquior, and is therefore inapplicable.

Since current legislation does not define “private Mass,” a bishop could argue that it’s up to him to make distinctions (using the oft misquoted notion of the bishop as the “chief liturgist” of his diocese), though the counter-argument would be that such distinctions are praeter legem and beyond the authority of the bishop. A bishop who prohibits the Old Mass simply needs to be resisted. Priests should continue to offer the Mass. If need be, state that “Father will be offering a private Mass at 8:30 a.m. in the school chapel. The doors of the chapel will be unlocked during this private offering of the Mass.”

Incidentally, if a bishop dared to prohibit priests from saying the TLM by themselves, their prohibition would be utterly null and void. Pursuant to Can. 906 (and this is a change from Can. 813 in the 1917 Code), a priest is permitted to celebrate Mass without a server or anyone else for a “just and reasonable cause.”[4] This has long been understood canonically to include simply the great good, for himself and for the Church, of the priest saying daily Mass.

Thus, taking all the forgoing into consideration, hypothetically in a diocese where a bishop attempted to limit “private Masses” to a priest and one server, it would be permissible for a priest to celebrate a Missa sine populo without a server (i.e., a Missa solitaria) for a “just cause” as per Can. 906 (what more just cause than pursuing sanctity and the honoring of God according to the sound ritual tradition of the Church?), but in such a way that some of the faithful happened to be there at the same time for an unrelated reason (say, for instance, they gathered to pray the Rosary). In this case, everything would be canonically correct and the bishop’s ruling—already incorrect for other reasons—would not even find matter to which it could apply.


NOTES

[1] O’Connell lists several kinds of private Masses.

[2] Cf. McManus, Handbook for the New Rubrics (Baltimore: Helicon, 1960), 106.

[3] “The revised edition of the Roman Missal that was promulgated by Pope Paul VI in 1969 presented two forms of the Order of Mass: Ordo Missae cum populo and Ordo Missae sine populo…. The 1970 General Instruction of the Roman Missal dealt with the first of these forms of celebrating Mass under the numbers 77–152, and with the second under the numbers 209–231. The latter section began with the explanation: ‘This section gives the norms for Mass celebrated by a priest with only one server to assist him and to make the responses.’ In the revised and expanded 2002 edition of the General Instruction, the term Missa cum populo remains as the heading for the information given under numbers 115–198, but the other section (numbers 252–272) speaks of Missa cuius unus tantum minister participat (Mass in which only one server participates). Corresponding to the latter form, the Missal presents the Ordo Missae cuius unus tantum minister participat (Order of Mass in which only one server participates)” (source).

[4] Fr Zuhlsdorf has a bit more on that here: https://wdtprs.com/2016/12/ask-father-can-priests-say-the-tridentine-mass-alone-without-a-server/.

Friday, December 16, 2022

Announcing a Comprehensive Canonical Critique of “Traditionis Custodes”

As readers of NLM are too well aware, Pope Francis's apostolic letter Traditionis Custodes aimed at a drastic reduction of the use of the traditional Roman liturgy. In a letter to the bishops published on the same day, the pope explained at length the reasons for his decision. The harsh measures, in tandem with the violent and accusatory tone of the accompanying letter, have aroused consternation among the faithful who are attached to the usus antiquior. The Responsa ad Dubia issued in December of 2021 by the Congregation for Divine Worship and the Discipline of the Sacraments, so far from clarifying matters, only intensified the growing dismay and debate.

The inaccuracies, difficulties of interpretation, and problems of concrete application of Traditionis Custodes have meanwhile raised many questions among canonists, pastors, and institutes whose proper law binds them to the liturgical forms of the Latin tradition.

It was time for a competent canonist to write a full critique of the letter. This was done by canon lawyer Fr. Réginald-Marie Rivoire, F.S.V.F., who in a lengthy French article undertook a careful canonical reading of these documents, chiefly from the point of view of their "juridical rationality." It is well known that rationality is one of the essential characteristics of a legal norm, such that strictly speaking, an irrational norm is not a norm and does not bind.

I am happy to share at NLM that an authorized English translation of this tract has now been published as part of the "Os Justi Studies in Catholic Tradition" series launched by my publishing house, Os Justi Press. The work is entitled (simply enough): "Does Traditionis Custodes Pass the Juridical Rationality Test?

First, Fr. Rivoire considers the legal status of the documents; then, the affirmation at the heart of this whole legal apparatus and its raison d’être, namely, that the liturgical books promulgated by Paul VI and John Paul II are the sole expression of the lex orandi of the Roman Rite; and finally, the way in which numerous fundamental principles and precepts of canon law are undermined by the new norms. Nearly every point I have seen made piecemeal elsewhere by canonists is found here, integrated within a total structure. It's just under 100 pages.

The book is available in paperback or electronically, either from the publisher directly (here) or from Amazon.com (here) and its affiliates around the world. I see other online sites carrying it as well.

This tract would make a good gift for a sympathetic priest, a friendly bishop, a canon lawyer, a local Una Voce chapter, etc. The Table of Content and the Introduction may be found as a PDF here.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Fr. Réginald-Marie Rivoire of the Fraternity of St. Vincent Ferrer is a graduate of the Institut d’Etudes Politiques of Paris and holds a doctorate in canon law from the Pontifical University of the Holy Cross in Rome. He is the Master of Novices at the Friary of St. Thomas Aquinas in Chémeré-le-Roi and Defender of the Bond and Promoter of Justice at the ecclesiastical Tribunal of Rennes. He teaches canon law in various religious institutes.

Os Justi Press also publishes works like:

and others of liturgical, dogmatic, and literary interest. Please take a moment to visit the new website. All Os Justi titles are also available via Amazon.

Wednesday, August 11, 2021

“Eucharistic Concelebration: Theological, Historical, and Liturgical Aspects” — Guest Article by Bishop Athanasius Schneider

New Liturgical Movement is pleased to be able to publish online the following incisive text by Bishop Athanasius Schneider, which also appears in print in the latest issue of Latin Mass magazine. In the first part, His Excellency looks at the historical roots and theological implications of Eucharistic concelebration, while in the second part he makes a concrete proposal for how concelebration might be rarely but appropriately used and how its ceremonial ought to unfold. This rich presentation comes at a critically important time, as concelebration has once again been much in the news.—PAK

Jean Auguste Dominique Ingres, Papal Mass (1832)

Eucharistic Concelebration:
Theological, Historical, and Liturgical Aspects


Bishop Athanasius Schneider

I. The Theological and Historical Aspect

1. The first Holy Mass was celebrated by Our Lord in the cenacle. This Mass did not have the form of a sacramental concelebration because the apostles did not pronounce the words of consecration; only the Lord pronounced them. The apostles participated in the Eucharist, celebrated by the Lord, by sacramentally receiving His Body and His Blood. We could say they “concelebrated” in the first Mass in the form of a non-sacramental concelebration.

2. From the earliest times, the universal Church (both in the East and in the West) conserved faithfully this original form of Eucharistic concelebration with these two characteristics:
  1. The main celebrant alone pronounces the words of consecration;
  2. The main celebrant is always and exclusively the “high priest,” i.e. the bishop (and in Rome the Pope).
3. In the beginning of the Middles Ages, in the Papal Liturgy in Rome there was a development of the original form by the fact that the concelebrants pronounced the words of consecration together with the Pope (cf. Ordo Romanus III, 8th century).

4. However, down to the present, the most ancient Oriental churches—the non-Catholic Greek Byzantines, the non-Catholic Copts, and non-Catholic Nestorians—have conserved the norm that only the main celebrant pronounces the words of consecration.

5. Until recent times in the universal Church, a priest never presided as the main celebrant of a Eucharistic sacramental concelebration.

6. From the seventeenth century on, the Byzantine Catholic churches introduced an innovation, that is, the form of concelebration among priests without a bishop as the main celebrant. Thereby the concelebration among priests became usual (cf. the article “Le rituel de la concélébration eucharistique” of Aimé Georges Martimort in Ephemerides Liturgicae 77 [1963] 147–168).

7. Such a form of Eucharistic concelebration only among priests was alien to the universal and constant tradition of the Church. Therefore the Roman Church forbade such concelebration among priests (cf. can. 803 of the Code of Canon Law 1917).

8. Only the Catholic Oriental churches adopted the custom that all concelebrants pronounce the words of consecration.

9. Until the Second Vatican Council, in the Latin Church a Eucharistic sacramental concelebration, where all concelebrants pronounce the words of consecration, was practiced only on three occasions:
  1. Episcopal consecration: only the main consecrator and the newly consecrated bishops concelebrated.
  2. Priestly ordination: only the bishop and the newly ordained priests concelebrated.
  3. Chrism Mass on Holy Thursday in the Cathedral of Lyons (France): the bishop concelebrated with six priests.
10. For the Chrism Mass, the Roman Church conserved until the Second Vatican Council however the most ancient form, i.e. the words of consecration pronounced only by the bishop, although twelve priests assisted him clothed with all the vestments required for Mass. With this form, the Roman Church perhaps wished to recount the first Holy Mass on Holy Thursday, where the main celebrant, Jesus the High Priest, alone pronounced the words of consecration while the twelve apostles concelebrated non-sacramentally, since they did not pronounce together with the Lord the words of the sacramental consecration.

11. In the millennial tradition of the Roman Church, sacramental Eucharistic concelebration constituted always an extraordinary solemn act, which occurred on:
  1. Ecclesiastically important circumstances, which reflected the hierarchically ordered constitution of the Church, such as in the aforementioned episcopal consecrations and in priestly ordinations;
  2. When the bishop celebrated Mass in a most solemn and hierarchically structured form, such as was the case in the Chrism Mass of Lyons, or when the Pope (in the first millenium) celebrated solemnly on the four highest feasts in the year: Christmas, Easter, Pentecost, Ss. Peter and Paul (a custom that ceased in Rome in the high Middles Ages).
P. Villanueva, Blessing of the Chrism on Holy Thursday in the Lateran Basilica (ca. 1900)

Monday, November 30, 2020

On the Status of Minor Orders and the Subdiaconate

Roman subdiaconate ordination (post-1973!)
Arising more and more often nowadays is the question: What exactly is the status of the minor orders (porter, lector, exorcist, acolyte) in the Roman rite? We can add to this list the major order of subdeacon. In spite of their immense antiquity, which ought to have gained them the principled support of the liturgical reform — they are, for example, more ancient than the season of Advent — the minor orders were abolished in the form in which they had existed previously (or at least, it seemed to observers that they were abolished) by Paul VI in his Apostolic Letter Ministeria Quaedam of 1973. Yet never since that time have both minor orders and the subdiaconate ceased to be conferred in this or that corner of the vast Catholic world; with increasing frequency thanks to John Paul II’s Ecclesia Dei and Benedict XVI’s Summorum Pontificum, these orders are routinely imparted to the many young candidates who flock to traditional orders. It certainly seems like an odd situation.

As far as I can tell, there’s the “conservative” view and the “rad trad” view.

The conservative view, such as one might find it on the faculty of an Opus Dei university, is to say that the minor orders and subdiaconate were in fact abrogated and their functions reassigned, but that, just as the old liturgical tradition continued and was eventually regularized, so, too, the use of the ceremonies for the suppressed orders were regularized in that context, and are efficacious in that context. It’s “praetercanonical.”

The weakness of this position is that it leans too much on canon law. Canon law is not some kind of inerrant or infallible thing; it’s just a compilation of ecclesiastical jurisprudence, and it can be badly done, have omissions, need correction or supplementation, etc. Canon law’s silence on the minor orders and the subdiaconate does not logically preclude the possibility of their continuing existence. Not all things in heaven and on earth are contained in the 1983 Code of Canon Law.

With this, we segue into the rad trad position, which maintains that no pope has the authority to abolish a millennial tradition like the minor orders and the subdiaconate, just as no pope, strain he ever so many a pontifical muscle, could abolish the immemorial Roman Mass codified but not created by St. Pius V in 1570. On this view, Paul VI’s attempt to do both of these things wasn’t worth the paper it was written on. This has already, in a sense, been recognized regarding the Mass by Benedict XVI when he said in Summorum Pontificum that the old missal was never abrogated, even though nearly everyone, except a tiny number of traditionalists, acted as if it had been. Due to craven ultramontanism, however, people went along with the pretense and still act as if the minor orders and the subdiaconate were suppressed. Traditional religious and clerical communities, on the other hand, know better, and continue to follow the settled and venerable Roman tradition.

At very least something like the conservative view has to be true; otherwise, in conferring minor orders today (and most of all, the subdiaconate!), one would be guilty of simulating a conferral that cannot happen — a sort of contraceptive liturgy. It is impossible that the Church could continue to use such rites without their being efficacious in accomplishing what they intend to accomplish. A sacramental theologian of Scotistic subtlety might rejoinder that there is a third possibility: these rites are not efficacious in se — they actually do nothing to the recipients — but their content, being piously edifying, offers an occasion of grace for the devout in their progress toward the diaconate and priesthood. It would be essentially fancy playacting in the sight of God, publicly and solemnly marking stages of formation.

All of these positions seem ecclesiologically unsatisfactory in one way or another. The least problematic, it seems to me, is to maintain that the old rites, when used today, confer the orders they intend to confer, while admitting that how the order is regulated in the Church is governed by the 1983 Code of Canon Law. With the 1983 Code, Ministeria Quaedam became a moot point — of historical interest, no doubt, and offering guidelines for acolytes, etc., but it was superseded. Hence, by the only code currently in force, reception of tonsure does not make one a cleric. A man becomes a cleric with the diaconate. He can freely take upon himself the obligations for the Divine Office that once came with the subdiaconate, but he is not strictly bound by law until he is ordained a deacon.

That is not to say, as mentioned above, that this law is a good one and should not be changed in the future. Not is it to say that the commitment is not serious prior to the diaconate. There is a whole culture that goes with the minor orders: they set a person apart for liturgical offices and activities, preparing a man step by step, through lower forms of ministry, to receive the higher forms of the major orders, by which he is decisively inserted into the exercise of the priesthood of Jesus Christ in the Church.

Catholics were told that they should engage in ecumenism, but the one ecumenism that was forbidden was respecting the traditions we hold in common with the East. The minor orders and the subdiaconate abide in the Eastern churches. It is far more plausible to assume that they abide, and must abide, in the Roman Church as well.

Further reading: 
Visit Dr. Kwasniewski’s websiteSoundCloud page, and YouTube channel.

Monday, November 09, 2020

The Four Qualities of Liturgy: Validity, Licitness, Fittingness, and Authenticity

Below is the full text of the lecture I gave at Queen of Peace Parish in Patton, Pennsylvania, on September 21, 2020, a video of which has also been posted at YouTube (here). Although certain ideas in this talk have been discussed in other articles of mine, the synthesis offered here represents, for me at least, an intellectual breakthrough in responding to what I have increasingly come to see as the impoverished state of liturgical discourse, which is typically limited to only two categories (validity and liceity). Although much attention is paid to fittingness in the realm of sacred art, it deserves to be considered a liturgical category alongside the aforementioned pair; and finally, joining these must be the category of authenticity or legitimacy, as an irreducibly distinct perfection. Only by considering all four qualities can we arrive at an adequate assessment. [UPDATED ON 11/12/20 with an improved version of the chart.]

The celebration of the traditional Mass of the Roman Rite is becoming more and more common; it seems that its popularity has been an unintended consequence of both the chaos of the current pontificate and the disappointment of many Catholics with their pastors and parishes during the COVID pandemic. “Enough is enough!” is a frequently heard reaction. People are looking for worship that is reverent, prayerful, God-oriented, and deeply refreshing, and for priests who are truly committed to the care of souls. This, of course, is the work of the Holy Spirit, tugging at the heartstrings of baptized and confirmed Catholics, in whom there was planted the seed of Trinitarian life, which urges us to enter into the divine mystery.

However, there are certain difficulties in our situation, too. A vast amount of information, good, bad, indifferent, and inaccurate, circulates on the internet. Lay Catholics are seldom equipped to be able to understand what they’re reading about, especially when we get “into the weeds” of liturgical history and reform. How are blogs going to equip us with the ability to navigate thorny questions about the pope’s authority, the Church’s fidelity to tradition, the duty of obedience (and the limits thereof), and so on? There is a great need for careful, thoughtful, well-informed presentations on liturgical matters, so that we can deepen our understanding of the complex issues involved, without losing the simplicity of our faith, or the spontaneity of our interior life as we strive to be the saints Our Lord is calling us to be.

After many years, I have come to the realization that a lot of the time, people are talking past one another in liturgical discussions, and that is because they are talking about different aspects or properties of the liturgy, while failing to make the necessary distinctions. There are, in fact, four properties that are always supposed to belong to any liturgy: validity; licitness; fittingness; and authenticity. All of them are important, none of them is dispensable. They are meant to work together, in harmony, to bring us the fullness of divine worship intended by Christ for His Church. The problems we have experienced in recent decades have a lot to do with an exaggerated emphasis on one or another of these qualities, at the expense of the rest. I will begin by defining each one, and then talk about how they are related.

Validity

First, validity. With validity we are looking at a fairly straightforward question: does a sacrament happen or not? At the Council of Florence, the Church officially adopted the scholastic language of “matter and form” to indicate the two parts of any sacrament — the material things it uses and the words spoken in connection with them. [1] This Council taught: “All these Sacraments are accomplished by three elements, namely, by things as the matter; by words as the form; and by the person of the minister who confers the Sacrament with the intention of doing that which the Church does. If any of these is lacking, the Sacrament is not accomplished.” [2]

So, for example, in baptism the water is poured over the person’s head, while the minister speaks the words: “I baptize you in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.” St. Augustine wrote: “Take away the words, what then is the water but water? The words are added to the element, and the Sacrament emerges.” The washing with water in the name of the Trinity then accomplishes spiritually what washing with water does physically, namely, cleanses and refreshes. That is why we say a sacrament “effects what it signifies.” And we can go through each of the seven sacraments this way, seeing what the material thing used is, and what the words are, and what effects are signified by the combination of the matter and form. This is a very rich topic but for my purposes, we are looking at validity, that is, why baptism happens, and our answer is: the correct words were said, with the correct matter, by someone capable of performing the action, who intends to do what the Catholic Church does, even if he doesn’t fully understand what that might be.

Sometimes Catholic theology strikes observers as arcane and esoteric, but in point of fact, problems with validity arise from time to time in Church history, and we need to be equipped to deal with them. The notorious recent case of Fr. Matthew Hood comes to mind. Fr. Hood, serving as a priest in the archdiocese of Detroit, discovered early last August that he had been baptized by a deacon who used the formula “We baptize you,” which was judged invalid by a decision of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith published on August 6th. As a result, Hood realized he had never been baptized, and therefore had never been confirmed or ordained to the priesthood, since each subsequent sacrament rests on the foundation of the preceding ones. He had to receive all these sacraments for the first time — and then deal with the messy fallout that resulted for other people who had depended on his ministry. For example, all the confirmations he had done, all the marriages, all the absolutions, all the last rites — all of these were absolutely null and utterly void. Do we have need for any further proof that the words we say and the actions we perform make a difference?

I mentioned a moment ago that the one who performs the sacrament has to have the right intention. Some Catholics get themselves tied up in knots about what intention is necessary, and they tend to exaggerate the explicitness and orthodoxy of the required intention. All that is required is that the priest have a virtual (not even an explicit) intention to perform a ritual of the Catholic Church by following the words and actions of the rite as given in the liturgical book. He does not need to have a good theological grasp of what he is doing, and he might even have an heretical understanding of it, as, unfortunately, a lot of clergy may have nowadays, due to their poor seminary training. He might be doing the sacrament for money, or for personal vanity, or to get promoted to a better position, etc. Still, if he thinks he is doing what the Church does — though he misunderstands it, or sins because of personal unworthiness — that intention suffices for validity.

If a priest’s theological competence, subjective motivations, or personal sanctity were necessary components of a valid sacrament, we would be thrown into constant doubts about whether the sacraments are efficacious, which is clearly not what Our Lord desires, or what He instituted. He planned better than that. As the Church teaches, Christ Himself is the primary agent in every sacrament: He is the one who baptizes, who confirms, who absolves, who transubstantiates. The priest is an intelligent instrument — intelligent, yes, which is why intentionality is required; but still an instrument, like a hammer or a saw. [3]

(That, by the way, is why the Detroit deacon’s baptisms were invalid, as Matthew Hood discovered to his horror: the deacon was saying “We baptize you,” referring to the Christian community, which precisely contradicts the fundamental truth: “It is I, Jesus Christ, who am baptizing you through my visible minister, who lends his voice and hands to Me.” Interestingly, the Byzantine tradition uses a completely different formula in the passive voice: “The servant of God, N., is baptized in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.” Although so very different, this formula makes it clear that it is not the local community or any individual man by himself who incorporates a person into Christ; rather, this happens by God’s gracious action: “The servant of God is baptized,” with Christ implied as the one baptizing.)

To sum up this point, I will quote from theologian Roger Nutt:

[A] sacramental celebration is understood to be “valid” if it is executed by the proper minister in such a way that the sacrament is truly brought into being. Invalidity happens when the celebration is executed by an unauthorized minister or when the matter and form are so defective that the sign is not brought about. An invalid celebration indicates, precisely, that a sacrament was never brought into being and thus, absent the sacrament, none of the sacramental effects are conferred. [4]
Now, who gets to determine what counts for validity? Canon law states that “the sacraments of the New Testament were instituted by Christ the Lord and entrusted to the Church” [5] (indeed, this is a de fide dogma), and then in Canon 841 draws this conclusion: “Since the sacraments are the same for the whole Church and belong to the divine deposit, it is only for the supreme authority of the Church to approve or define the requirements for their validity.” Hence, we can say without any doubt that what counts as a valid sacramental rite, and the conditions for its performance, are solely the competence of the supreme authority of the Church, which means either the Pope by himself, or the Pope together with the college of bishops, as at an ecumenical council.

It is not possible, if we hold to the Catholic Faith, to call into question or to doubt the validity of a sacramental rite duly and correctly promulgated. This means, for example, that the Novus Ordo Missae, or the other postconciliar sacramental rites, insofar as they have been duly promulgated by the authority of the Church, are valid, no matter how much their deficiencies or their discontinuities with age-old Catholic tradition deserve to be critiqued, and no matter how much better the traditional rites may be. Validity is not about better and worse, more beautiful and less beautiful, more worthy or less worthy; it is a binary switch with two settings: on or off. Thus, either baptism happens, or it does not; either transubstantiation happens, or it does not.

But beyond saying whether something happened or not, we must also ask whether it happened rightly or correctly. That is what the other three qualities concern.

Licitness

Second, then, there is the licitness or legality of a sacrament. On this quality, I will again quote Roger Nutt, who says right after the passage I quoted a moment ago:
A licit celebration is one that is performed according to the prescribed rite of the Church, while an illicit celebration is one that directly deviates in some way from the prescribed rite. An illicit sacramental celebration does not vitiate the validity and therefore reality of the sacrament… [6]

Fr. Bernard Leeming says, more precisely:

Valid is often used as distinct from licit, which is said of a sacrament in whose administration and reception no law is broken; for unlawful administration of a sacrament does not ipso facto render it invalid. Thus a priest who is suspended or excommunicated can validly administer all sacraments except Penance, which requires jurisdiction, but he sins by so doing, if he acts contumaciously, and the faithful sin if they receive sacraments from him without some justifying reason. [7]

The term “licit” comes from the Latin verb licére, which means to allow. Licitness or liceity has to do with what is permitted, and, by extension, what is required or forbidden to Christians. In the domain of the sacraments and the liturgy, it primarily concerns the questions: Who is allowed to perform or to receive a given sacrament, and under what circumstances? If a priest or bishop in good standing, following all the conditions set forth in canon law, celebrates a liturgical rite according to the books promulgated by the supreme authority of the Church, saying the black and doing the red (in other words, reading just the texts that are printed, and following the rubrics without deviation), then he celebrates licitly. He has done, in other words, that which he had permission to do; that which he was required to do; and nothing that he is forbidden to do.

On the other hand, it is not licit for a Latin-rite priest to celebrate a Byzantine liturgy, unless he has first received canonical permission to do so; it is not licit for a laicized or degraded priest to offer Mass; it is not licit for a priest in a state of mortal sin to offer Mass; it is not licit to celebrate Mass with rice crackers and sake instead of wheat bread and wine from grapes (and that would also make it invalid); it is not licit to ad lib the opening prayer, or to play a John Lennon song in place of the psalm, or to read from a binder a Eucharistic Prayer written by liberation theologians from Nicaragua. As a matter of fact, any intentional deviation from the liturgical books, either in their texts or in their rubrics, is illicit, and makes the liturgy illicit to a greater or lesser extent. Moreover, it is not licit to receive Communion without having fasted for at least one hour beforehand; and, above all, it is not licit for anyone to receive Holy Communion in a state of mortal sin.

Two things will be immediately obvious from the foregoing list of examples.

First, some of these things are matters of mere canon law, that is, positive law created by the Church and changeable by her, while some things are matters of divine or natural law, which the Church can articulate, but does not originate and therefore can never alter. [8] The rule that we must fast for a certain period of time before Communion is a positive ecclesiastical law that can change and has changed a lot; not very long ago, the requirement was three hours (which in many ways would be much better), and not long before that, the rule was to fast from midnight onwards. But the rule that we must — so far as we can ascertain by examining our consciences — be in a state of grace in order to receive Communion is a matter of divine law, which is clear from chapter 11 of St. Paul’s Letter to the Corinthians, where he says that someone who eats the Body of Christ unworthily eats damnation, and that a man should examine his conscience accordingly. No council or pope could ever change this rule.

Second, the Church today, at least in Western nations, is in grave trouble, since the vast majority of liturgies are illicit in one way or another; both ministers and recipients of sacraments have become habituated to illicitness. The crisis in the Church is, as Joseph Ratzinger said, in large part caused by the crisis in the liturgy.

The main point with the category of licitness (or liceity, as some prefer to call it) is that the sacred liturgy or divine worship, and with it, our sanctification by the mysteries of Christ, is a communal, ecclesial, hierarchical activity. Christ entrusted the work and the means of sanctification to His Church, and therefore, to her authorized heads. It is not something “between Jesus and me,” as our individualistic, atomistic age might think of it, a matter of convenience or personal choice, but rather, something between Christ and the Church, into which we are privileged to be inserted, as recipients and subordinates. Back in 2004, the Congregation for Divine Worship and the Discipline of the Sacraments issued an instruction called Redemptionis Sacramentum, which addressed many of the most common liturgical problems and abuses of the Novus Ordo. In words that are of universal application, the document eloquently says:

The Mystery of the Eucharist “is too great for anyone to permit himself to treat it according to his own whim, so that its sacredness and its universal ordering would be obscured.” On the contrary, anyone who acts thus by giving free reign to his own inclinations, even if he is a Priest, injures the substantial unity of the Roman Rite, which ought to be vigorously preserved, and becomes responsible for actions that are in no way consistent with the hunger and thirst for the living God that is experienced by the people today. Nor do such actions serve authentic pastoral care or proper liturgical renewal; instead, they deprive Christ’s faithful of their patrimony and their heritage. For arbitrary actions are not conducive to true renewal, but are detrimental to the right of Christ’s faithful to a liturgical celebration that is an expression of the Church’s life in accordance with her tradition and discipline. In the end, they introduce elements of distortion and disharmony into the very celebration of the Eucharist, which is oriented in its own lofty way and by its very nature to signifying and wondrously bringing about the communion of divine life and the unity of the People of God. The result is uncertainty in matters of doctrine, perplexity and scandal on the part of the People of God, and, almost as a necessary consequence, vigorous opposition, all of which greatly confuse and sadden many of Christ’s faithful...
          On the contrary, it is the right of all of Christ’s faithful that the Liturgy, and in particular the celebration of Holy Mass, should truly be as the Church wishes, according to her stipulations as prescribed in the liturgical books and in the other laws and norms. Likewise, the Catholic people have the right that the Sacrifice of the Holy Mass should be celebrated for them in an integral manner, according to the entire doctrine of the Church’s Magisterium. [9]
The same document says later on:

In an altogether particular manner, let everyone do all that is in their power to ensure that the Most Holy Sacrament of the Eucharist will be protected from any and every irreverence or distortion and that all abuses be thoroughly corrected. This is a most serious duty incumbent upon each and every one, and all are bound to carry it out without any favoritism. [10]

Sadly, Redemptionis Sacramentum seems to have gone to that special place in the sky, or over the seas, or under the earth, where all unwelcome Vatican documents go for their eternal rest, and where it has been forgotten like the unremembered dead. In the current COVID-19 situation, we have seen how readily bishops and priests, in their frenzy to avoid contamination with or transmission of the virus, are violating liturgical law in the most scandalous ways. In fact, Dr. Joseph Shaw makes a very important point here about clergy who are willing to experiment with or manipulate the liturgy:

The reason they feel free to play fast and loose with the liturgy is not because they feel strongly about sacramental validity and don’t care about anything else, but because they don’t care very much about sacramental validity either. They may be influenced by the idea that bishops and the Holy See feel strongly about validity, and they may allow us to comfort ourselves with the thought, when it is possible, that the sacrament was in this or that case valid. But if they really cared about validity, they would take the liturgy seriously, and that is something they are manifestly not doing.
          Liturgical abuses are an offense against God, as the abuse of something holy. They are also an offense against the faithful, whose spiritual engagement in the liturgy is impeded. Again, they are an offense against our Lord, who instituted the sacraments for our salvation, and [against] Holy Mother Church, who has surrounded them with ceremonies and texts intended to give God glory and to assist us in our participation. Finally, they are an offense against the priesthood itself, which should protect the liturgy from profanation, and whose function is to provide it to others for the good of souls.

The mention of “ceremonies and texts intended to give God glory and to assist us in our participation” is a perfect segue to the third quality, fittingness.

Fittingness

Consider the following statement: “All that matters at Mass is that Jesus is present; everything else is secondary.” Or, more succinctly, “the Mass is the Mass.” Undoubtedly it matters a great deal that Jesus is present, for otherwise we are eating no more than ordinary food. But the liturgy has a greater purpose than putting on a meal for us, and even Our Lord’s presence has a greater scope and purpose than sacramental communion. The Mass is the solemn, public, formal act of adoration, thanksgiving, and supplication offered by Christ the High Priest to the Father, and by His entire Mystical Body in union with Him. It is the foremost act of the virtue of religion, by which we offer to God a sacrifice of praise worthy of His glory. It is the chief expression of the theological virtues of faith, hope, and charity. It is the kingdom of heaven breaking into our earthly time and space. It is the nuptial feast of the King of Kings. It is the recapitulation of the entire created universe in its Alpha and Omega.

Because it is all these things, the Church down through the ages has spared no effort and no expense to augment the beauty and elevate the solemnity of her liturgical rites. As John Paul II rightly said: “Like the woman who anointed Jesus in Bethany, the Church has feared no ‘extravagance,’ devoting the best of her resources to expressing her wonder and adoration before the unsurpassable gift of the Eucharist.” [11] So while it may be true that the only things necessary for a valid Mass in the Roman Rite are unleavened bread made from wheat and wine made from grapes, a priest, and the words of consecration, to see this as sufficient for the offering of the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass would betray a reductive, minimalist, and parsimonious view of things. Glorifying God and sanctifying our souls cannot be detached from the fittingness of the worship we offer Him. What the Council of Trent declares about the Roman Canon can be applied more generally to the whole of the Church’s liturgical life:

Since it is fitting that holy things be administered in a holy manner, and of all things this sacrifice is the most holy, the Catholic Church, to the end that it might be worthily and reverently offered and received, instituted many centuries ago the holy canon, which is so free from error that it contains nothing that does not in the highest degree savor of a certain holiness and piety and raise up to God the minds of those who offer. For it consists partly of the very words of the Lord, partly of the traditions of the Apostles, and also of pious regulations of holy pontiffs.
The essence of the Church’s liturgy is simple: it is precontained in the Heart of Christ, our Eternal High Priest, where all worthy worship perpetually exists. But the “clothing” of that worship is of decisive importance to us, who interact with Our Lord through His visible Body, the Church, and her visible rites. How these rites are structured, performed, and participated in will inevitably influence our understanding of the mysteries of the Faith and our ability to live them out. The clothing draped over the body of our prayers is, if anything, of far greater importance than any clothing a human being puts on.

When someone is attracted to the traditional Latin liturgy for its beauty to the eye and to the ear, it is not because he is stuck on these things, but because these things coalesce around the reality, the Sacrifice of the Cross, and make it stand forth with a satisfying clarity. The sensible or perceptible qualities so harmonize with the nature of the mystery that the result is the splendor of the truth. For men as body-soul composites, for Christians as disciples of the Word-made-flesh, there must be both elements: the truth and the splendor. Dom Gerard Calvet offers the perfect commentary:
One enters the Church by two doors: the door of the intelligence and the door of beauty. The narrow door...is that of intelligence; it is open to intellectuals and scholars. The wider door is that of beauty. The Church in her impenetrable mystery...has need of an earthly epiphany accessible to all: this is the majesty of her temples, the splendour of her liturgy and the sweetness of her chants.
          Take a group of Japanese tourists visiting Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris. They look at the height of the stained-glass windows, the harmony of the proportions. Suppose that at that moment, sacred ministers dressed in orphried velvet copes enter in procession for solemn Vespers. The visitors watch in silence; they are entranced: beauty has opened its doors to them. Now the Summa Theologiae of St. Thomas Aquinas and Notre Dame in Paris are products of the same era. They say the same thing. But who among the visitors has read the Summa of St. Thomas? The same phenomenon is found at all levels. The tourists who visit the Acropolis in Athens are confronted with a civilisation of beauty. But who among them can understand Aristotle?
          And so it is with the beauty of the liturgy. More than anything else it deserves to be called the splendour of the truth. It opens to the small and the great alike the treasures of its magnificence: the beauty of psalmody, sacred chants and texts, candles, harmony of movement and dignity of bearing. With sovereign art the liturgy exercises a truly seductive influence on souls, whom it touches directly, even before the spirit perceives its influence. [12]

For this very reason — that the externals are meant to tell us something about the reality to which they are in service, and draw us towards it — we must take care that they harmonize, that the outward aspect does not openly or subtly contradict the inward. It would be unfitting to put a king’s robes on a pauper, or a gold ring in a pig’s snout: there is discordance between the decoration and the thing decorated. The same holds in the other direction: a king does not wear dirty rags nor his horse a cheap saddle. Putting the king’s robes on the king, and bedecking his mount in regal fashion: this is dignum et justum. The surface should correspond to the thing’s nature and lead us directly into it. This is not to be “caught up in” the externals, but to be caught up by the externals into the inner meaning. [13]

In other words: although it is not necessary for validity or licitness that a liturgy should look and sound as if we are entering the realm of the transcendent God and that He is accomplishing something divine and transformative among us, it is nevertheless highly fitting or suitable that it be done in this manner. And, as a matter of fact, the whole history of the liturgy cannot be understood unless we have grasped this essential fact: nearly all of its development can be attributed to the demands of fittingness.

Nor should we be surprised at the role it plays. Fittingness or suitability — convenientia in the language of theologians — is one of the central concepts of dogmatic theology, as we can see in the writings of St. Anselm and St. Thomas Aquinas. Convenientia is a kind of necessity, a necessity based on what is appropriate for a given situation, what is decorous, proper, harmonious, corresponding to all the factors in play, or to the being about whom one is inquiring. When St. Thomas takes up the question “Must God create a world?,” he answers: “No, not by absolute necessity, for God, as infinite good, is self-sufficient and needs nothing else; but it is fitting that He share His goodness by causing finite good things to exist.” This immediately prompts another question: “Once God creates, must he create a rational or intellectual creature?” And the answer, again, is: “God is free to create any world He wishes; but it is fitting that He crown the order of creation with creatures that are as like to Him as possible, which means, beings possessed of intellect and will.” Much later on, when St. Thomas comes to the question: “Was the Incarnation necessary for the salvation of mankind?,” he again answers in this manner: “It was not simply necessary, since God could have saved man by willing it in His omnipotence. Nevertheless, it was most fitting that the Son of God become man, for many reasons: since man had sinned, it was fitting that man should make reparation; but only a sinless man of infinite merit could repair for the sin of Adam and all subsequent sins; moreover, man withdrew from spiritual goods to bodily goods, so it was right that he be restored to spiritual life by the bodily life of Christ; because the dignity of human nature consists in the image of God in the soul, it was appropriate for the Word, the perfect image of God, to restore that reflected image in man; nothing could show forth God’s extravagant love better than for His Son to lower Himself to human estate, suffer, and die in exchange for slaves; and so forth (Aquinas gives many such arguments for the fittingness of the Incarnation and the Passion). [14]

My point here is that, as the eminent Thomist Fr. Gilbert Narcisse maintains, convenientia is the central driving principle of Thomistic theology; without it, theology would be almost barren of development. So, too, the liturgy of the Church would have been barren had it not been for an ever-increasing awareness, prompted by the Holy Spirit, of the many ways in which the sacramental mysteries can be more fully expressed in words and gestures, in vestments and vessels, in music and architecture — in everything that pertains to the senses, the imagination, the memory, and the intellect’s capacity for symbolism. Fittingness is connected intimately with beauty, including moral beauty or honestas, a Latin word that refers to the condition of being reputable, honorable, upright, worthy.

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