Could the Introduction of Microphones Have Caused the Reform of the Mass?

We are very pleased to share the following thought-provoking essay by Paweł Jarnicki, which was first published in Polish at Christianitas. The text has been translated into English with the support of machine translation and will be published at NLM in three installments, this week and next. It is one of the most insightful treatments of the question I have ever seen, and deserves a careful read. – PAK

“Let’s Throw the Microphone Out of the Church!”

Paweł Jarnicki

Part 1

I narrated battles
bastilles and ships…
and forgot about tamarisk. [1]

Eleven years ago, shortly after my conversion, as I listened to a priest muttering a bland sermon, a postulate arose in my mind that has returned to me regularly ever since: Take the microphones away from the priests! After all, if this priest spoke without a microphone, he couldn’t mutter like that. He would have to know what he wanted to say. He would have to speak loudly and clearly. He would have to exert his body... Since when have there been microphones in churches anyway?... I looked around. There were definitely no microphones when this church was built. How did everything work before microphones came along? At that time, I knew nothing about the reform of the Mass.

I talked to several people about my postulate from time to time, and even started taking some notes, but it was only a year ago that I checked if anyone had already written anything on the subject. I searched exclusively on the Internet. I found literally a few valuable texts in English and a few paragraphs in Polish. I am trying to put my own thoughts and what I have read into a coherent whole here. This is by no means an academic text or a complete study of the subject, but rather a text written by a believer in the hope that it will spark discussion and provoke more competent people to conduct in-depth research and take action.

Let’s start with what is certain. It is certain that microphones are found in almost every Catholic church today — at organs, pulpits, ambo, and altars. Sometimes portable microphones are also used. They are accompanied, of course, by an amplifier (usually in the sacristy or near the organist) and loudspeakers — at least a few — even in the smallest churches and chapels.

It is also certain that for the vast majority of time, there were no microphones in churches. Although the carbon microphone was invented in the 1870s, and the first sound systems (microphone + amplifier + loudspeaker) were developed in the mid-1910s, they were not installed in churches until the 1920s and 1930s.

Available publications indicate that there were no serious discussions about the use of microphones in churches. And yet, at that time, there were disputes about broadcasting Mass on the radio or introducing projectors and players... But microphones? It seems that they were treated as something natural and fundamentally good. Just as glasses allow us to see more clearly, microphones allow us to hear more clearly. What could be wrong with hearing better?

In official church documents, the first mention of the amplification system can be found in the 1958 instruction On Music. It prohibits the use of automatic organ, phonograph, radio, tape or wire recorders, and other similar machines (71), and projectors (73), but “loudspeakers may be used even during liturgical functions, and private devotions for the purpose of amplifying the living voice of the priest-celebrant or the commentator” (72). [2] The microphone was therefore treated as something that merely “amplifies the living voice,” as an object as neutral, in fact, as a pair of glasses. Later documents that I have been able to find treat the “altar microphone” as something so obvious that they only require a second, separate microphone to be placed on the pulpit. [3]

Today, practically no one is surprised by microphones in churches, because they are ubiquitous in the world, transparent, and we swim like fish in water in amplified sounds, both in public and private spaces. Since microphones and loudspeakers are everywhere, it seems normal that they are also in churches. However, reading texts about microphones by other authors led me to the surprising thesis that the microphone caused the reform of the Holy Mass. I have read a lot about the reform over the last nine years, but that it was caused by the microphone?

NOM, Łukęcin (Poland), Church of the Blessed Virgin Mary, Queen of Poland. In newly built churches, the cross is usually placed next to the altar, and the microphone becomes the axis of the celebration.

Two narratives about the reform of the Mass

In order to reconstruct the impact of the microphone on the 1969 reform of the Mass, it is good to familiarize ourselves with the current narratives about this reform. Especially since many contemporary Catholics know nothing about it, even though many “epics” have already been written about the controversy surrounding it... There are basically two narratives. Those enthusiastic about the reform and its critics. The enthusiastic narrative says: The reform of the Mass is the work of the Council, so it is good. The critical narrative says: The reform of the Mass is a consequence of the invasion of modernism, so it is bad. Although today (after Benedict XVI) the enthusiasts of the reform more often speak of continuity, and its critics of a break, there are also reverse variants. There were and are enthusiasts of the reform who speak of a break, and there are also critics of the reform who acknowledge continuity.

Critics of the reform argue that the world and people have not changed in essence, so there was no need to change the Mass, yet it was changed significantly. Enthusiasts of the reform say that as a result of increased well-being and technological development, “times” have changed, so the reform of the Mass was necessary to adapt it to contemporary pastoral needs, and only the envelope has changed, not the essence of the Mass.

The most radical critical narrative can be found among sedevacantists (those who believe that there is currently no legitimate pope) — recognizing the new Mass as invalid must also undermine recent pontificates, because several popes have already celebrated the new Mass. Therefore, the greatest concern of humble critics of the reform is how to criticize the reform without denying the validity of the new Mass and the continuity of the Church as an institution headed by the pope, and how not to cast the Second Vatican Council as the “villain.” The latter term allows reform enthusiasts to easily place critics outside the Church, because the Holy Spirit is at work during the council, and it is clear on whose side those who fight against the Divine Person are.

More moderate critics of the reform point out that the conciliar constitution on the liturgy neither recommended that the priest turn towards the people (versus populum) nor recommended a complete transition to vernacular languages. This was only done by the Consilium led by Annibale Bugnini — the reform is therefore a “distortion” of the Council’s decisions. Enthusiasts say that the Consilium implemented the “spirit” of the Council, while critics say that there is no such thing — that its “letter” has been violated. More radical critics point out that the errors of modernism (the omission of some ideas and the vague formulation of others) were already present in the conciliar documents and that the last council was not dogmatic, but only pastoral.

In any case, the common denominator of both narratives is the awareness of a crisis in the Church, the most striking manifestation of which is the decline in the number of priestly vocations. And no one has any idea how to break out of the trenches of their own convictions. Those on one side of the dispute see aggressive madmen, while those on the other see thoughtless blind men. This inability to reach an agreement confirms that some kind of break has indeed occurred. After all, it is easy to see that the new Mass is unlike the old one and that Catholics behave differently during the new and old Masses. Catholics raised on the new Mass who are unaware of the reform, when they encounter the old Mass, even have the impression that it is some kind of “different faith.” In the critical narrative, it is pointed out that since the way we pray has changed, our faith has changed (lex orandi lex credendi), but enthusiasts treat these critics as a threat to the unity of the Church, which today prays mostly according to the new Mass. These “accomplished facts” are the final argument of new Mass enthusiasts, but critics who emphasize continuity consider them dishonest because they imply a profound break — can the Mass on which the saints from before the last council were raised be so bad that it is forbidden to celebrate it in all parish churches? There seems to be no possibility of agreement.

The weaker, critical side feels — not without reason — that it is a victim of institutional violence (which to some extent explains, but does not excuse, the “aggressive” behavior of “traditionalist” circles). The problem, or perhaps its solution, is that here the “perpetrators” may also turn out to be victims of deception... For both narratives, both radical and moderate, forget about the microphone... which, like a Trojan horse, we ourselves introduced into the Church without considering the possible consequences.

NOM, Wrocław (Poland), St. Faustina Church. The object between the altar and the cross is not a Paschal candle but a portable loudspeaker.

Could the microphone have caused the reform of the Mass?

Although the hierarchs did not debate the issue of microphones, there was one layman who, in 1974, five years after the reform of the Mass, wrote:

“Many people will lament the disappearance of the Latin Mass from the Catholic Church without realizing that it was a victim of the microphone on the altar.” [4] And he repeated this thought three years later: “Latin wasn’t the victim of Vatican II; it was done in by introducing the microphone. A lot of people, the Church hierarchy included, have been lamenting the disappearance of Latin without understanding that it was the result of introducing a piece of technology that they accepted so enthusiastically.” [5]

The statements of Marshall McLuhan (1911–1980) have gone almost completely unnoticed, even in today’s so-called “traditionalist” circles. [6] Why? I think that the rest of his text is too “dense.” It is a challenging text, difficult to understand even for readers educated in the humanities. Although McLuhan was a Catholic, he was neither a historian nor a theologian; his voice was the voice of a representative of what was then a new discipline of knowledge — media theory. What McLuhan says in this text also contradicts the (enthusiastic) intellectual mood that prevailed after the Council and for decades thereafter — McLuhan points to church architecture as a second victim of the microphone, alongside the Latin Mass, and predicts that the publication of the Holy Scriptures in vernacular languages by official committees will be counterproductive to the spread of the Good News. In a situation where literature adapts subsequent variations of the living colloquial national language, the Church rigidifies the vernacular in its official and archaic translation. And yet every vernacular continues to evolve, so rigidifying it detaches faith from the living language of national communities and significantly hinders the transmission of faith.

McLuhan says all this in a deliberately vague way, wanting to force readers to make a cognitive effort. In addition, it seems that in the following years, the prevailing belief was that the widespread use of microphones in churches was a consequence of the reform of the Mass (chronologically, microphones were first introduced in more important churches, and only after the reform in all churches).

It was only Nico Fassino’s article three years ago that showed that McLuhan may be right, that the opposite may be true [7] – that there would be no new Mass if it weren’t for the microphone. Not only because during the Council it could have been turned off and Cardinal Ottaviani silenced, [8] but above all because the microphone was placed on the altar.

Fassino’s article is, so far, the only one that begins to describe the process of introducing microphones into churches from a historical perspective. Thanks to him, we know that in the 1920s, microphones began to be used in pulpits and the first Masses were broadcast on the radio. However, the first radio broadcasts did not necessarily involve sound systems in the church itself. It was probably Pius XII, who had been in office since 1939 and still celebrated the old Mass, who was the first pope to place microphones on the altar. [9] We do not yet know the exact date when this happened, but it was most likely between 1939 and 1945. And since microphones were placed on the papal altar, this must have gradually become more common practice in the post-war years.

But could such a seemingly neutral object have brought about a reform of the Mass? How? In the following reconstruction, I draw heavily on McLuhan’s text:

1. The microphone on the altar made the Latin texts audible, which until then had largely reached the faithful only as incomprehensible whispers and murmurs (especially during quiet Masses celebrated on weekdays, but also during the quiet parts of solemn Masses on holidays).

2. The amplification of the words spoken in Latin created a need to hear them clearly — if someone amplifies sound, it means that they want to be heard, that there is something that needs to be heard). [10]

3. And since the faithful began to hear words rather than murmurs, the need to hear clearly was followed by the need to understand what was being heard [11], and thus

4. the need to speak during Mass in the languages used in everyday life, in languages known to the faithful — in their vernacular languages.

5. And since the faithful began to hear and needed to understand every word, the impression arose that it was they who were being addressed.

6. This led to an inconsistency in the communication situation — when someone speaks to us and we speak to someone, it is natural to expect that we will have our faces turned towards each other.

The priest’s reversal was therefore a consequence of placing a microphone on the altar. But at the same time, it also reinforced the needs created by the use of the microphone – hearing and understanding – and thus speaking in an understandable vernacular language. This is why reversing the Mass reform seems impossible today – the faithful must now see and hear everything. In any case, it was the microphone that set off the avalanche of the reform. If anyone doubts this, let them imagine the new Mass at the sanctuary in Łagiewniki, Krakow – without a sound system. [12]

Wait a minute, someone will say, microphones are now used even in “Latin rite ministries”. I think that microphones at traditional Masses are only acceptable in “ghettos” where rebellious believers are sent, who are not only resigned to hearing Latin, but actually consciously want to hear it (which is often the basis of their sense of superiority, and for “new Catholics” this “exaltation” is an unacceptable barrier). Moreover, microphones have become so ubiquitous in the world today that almost no one – even the most ardent “traditionalists” — would dream of questioning their use. Why should we give up the achievements of science and technology?

This question will be taken up in Part 2.

NOM, Jarnice (Poland), St. James Church. Today, sound systems are installed even in the smallest churches (both inside and often outside).

(See Part 2 | Part 3)

NOTES

[1] Zbigniew Herbert, Tamarisk, 1961.

^[2]Instruction on Sacred Music and Sacred Liturgy of the Sacred Congregation for Rites according to the guidelines of Pope Pius XII’s encyclicals Musicae Sacrae Disciplina and Mediator Dei of September 3, 1958. The role of the commentator may seem peculiar today, but it was someone who translated what the priest was doing and saying (in Latin) into the vernacular.

^[3] See, for example, the Polish Episcopate’s Instruction in connection with the publication of the new altar missal of March 11, 1987.

^[4] Marshall McLuhan, Liturgy and the Microphone. First published in: “The Critic” 1974, vol. 33, no. 1, October-December, pp. 12–17; reprinted in: Eric McLuhan and Jacek Szklarek (eds.), The medium and the light: Reflections on Religion, Toronto: Stoddart 1999, pp. 107-116, quote from p. 112.

^[5] Pierre Babin, (Marshall McLuhan’s) Third Conversation with Pierre Babin, in: Eric McLuhan and Jacek Szklarek (eds.), The Medium and the Light: Reflections on Religion, Toronto: Stoddart 1999, pp. 141-149, quote from p. 143.

^[6] It seems that the issues surrounding the microphone escaped even Marcel Lefebvre, the most vocal critic of the Mass reform, and even the Society of St. Pius X uses microphones in its chapels and churches.

^[7] Nico Fassino, Lift up thy voice with strength, handmissalhistory, October 10, 2022, https://handmissalhistory.com/feature-microphones/, September 25, 2025.

^[8] As an aside, let us ask ourselves how earlier councils were possible without microphones? If there had been no microphones, would the “progressive” faction have been audible enough to significantly change the preliminary documents?

^[9] “By 1945, Pope Pius XII regularly celebrated mass with four microphones installed on the high altar in St. Peter’s Basilica and even had two microphones on the altar in his private chapel.” [Nico Fassino, Lift up thy voice with strength, handmissalhistory, October 10, 2022, https://handmissalhistory.com/feature-microphones/, September 25, 2025]

^[10] Nico Fassino notes that, paradoxically, the microphone has led to the creation of “cry rooms” for children in American churches. If the words spoken by the priest are to be heard, other sounds, especially noisy children, must not interfere.

^[11] To understand what this is all about, it is enough to experience at least once a new Mass in a country where the language is so foreign that we are unable to distinguish individual words from the stream of speech (for me, these were Latvian and Finnish). During such a Mass, it is difficult not to ask yourself the question: “What am I doing here?”

^[12] The Basilica of Divine Mercy in Łagiewniki (Kraków, Poland), consecrated in 2002, elliptical in shape, the interior — covering approximately 5,000 square meters and accommodating around 5,000 worshippers.

“Messe Dialoguée en Français”: A Glimpse into the Devolution of Liturgy in the 1940s

It is understandable that many would see liturgical disaster as a unique product of the last Council, and particularly of the implementary body headed by Annibale Bugnini, the Consilium ad exsequendam. Others who have read more widely will understand that it is linked to the gradual radicalization of the Liturgical Movement, as it went from the restorationist and educational model of Dom Guéranger to the pastoral utilitarianism of the postwar period. Relatively few, it seems to me, recognize that the roots of this disaster go far back to (in varying ways) the Protestant Revolt, the Enlightenment, and the age of industrialization.

Lately, a number of fine studies have been published that help us to see these more remote pretexts and premises of the liturgical reform of the 1960s, when the program of the Synod of Pistoia finally entered every suburban parish.

Nico Fassino’s recent article in the The Pillar, “The surprising history of the Children’s Mass” tells us:

It is commonly believed that Children’s Masses are a unique development of the modern liturgical reforms, a direct outgrowth of the Second Vatican Council. In reality, however, special Masses for children – including what might now appear to be shocking liturgical innovations – stretch back more than a century before the Second Vatican Council.
     These Masses began as a 19th century attempt to grapple with dramatic social changes and challenges wrought by the modern world. They gained widespread popularity and even gave rise to the creation of vernacular participatory Mass methods for adults years before Vatican II.
     In total, hundreds of editions of these methods for children and adults were published, running to millions of cumulative copies, between 1861 and 1961. They were published with approval, printed for decades, and used with permission around the world.
     This is the story of the surprising origins of “Children’s Masses” in the early 1800s, their widespread popularity around the world, their sudden fall from favor immediately before the Second Vatican Council, and their rebirth during the initial years of the revised Roman Missal of Paul VI.

While Fassino shows us how deeply the rot of bad liturgical ideas had already set in well before the Council, it also happily shows how men of principle strongly resisted this literally juvenile mentality. One does not have to question the good will of these would-be reformers in order to see that such efforts at promoting “participation” are bought at the expense of “dumbing down”—a superficialization that subtly implies that liturgy is a thing for children to grow out of, not a thing to which we are apprenticed in a lifelong process of assimilation.

Similarly, John Paul Sonnen relates the story of “The First Permanent Altar Facing the People in the United States,” which, as it happens, was installed as early as 1938, at a time when it would have been officially forbidden!

Archbishop John Gregory Murray (1877-1956), a native of Connecticut, became the Archbishop of St. Paul (Minnesota) in 1931. During his 24-year tenure he became a frequent visitor to the monks of St. John's Abbey in nearby Collegeville, Minnesota. In those years St. John’s was the largest Benedictine Abbey in the world and they had made a name for themselves as the American epicenter of the Liturgical Movement and what came to be called the liturgical apostolate, coming into fashion after the First World War. 

       In 1938 Archbishop Murray laid the cornerstone of the new English Gothic Revival church of the Nativity, under construction in a beautiful new residential neighborhood in St. Paul’s Groveland neighborhood. The architect of the church was a non-Catholic by the name of James B. Hills. It was during this time that Archbishop Murray approved a plan that was heretofore unheard of: the altar in the basement crypt chapel was to be set permanently facing the people.

       In those days this represented a forbidden stratum of liturgical experimentation that was not yet conceived by most, or sanctioned with approval by the Holy See. An innovation in its day, such a thing had not been tried anywhere in the country. Proponents of the Liturgical Movement in northern Europe had been slowly promoting the idea of Mass facing the people, but it was still a novelty concept in the rest of the world. 

Here is the altar John is talking about, in the only photo that has survived of it (today the room is a recreational space):

We can see this sort of thing in a 1930 photo from the Abbey of Maria Laach in Germany, a hotbed of progressive liturgism. Note that here, there is a more deliberate effort to make the altar look like a meal table:

Returning now to Fassino’s statement that “vernacular participatory Mass methods for adults” were being promoted “years before Vatican II,” I thought readers of NLM would appreciate seeing the photos of a section contained in a Missel-Vespéral Romain edited by the redoubtable Dom Gaspar Lefebvre, OSB, and published in 1946. The reader who kindly shared these photos noted that she also has another edition of the same missal from 1942, which contains the same section.

The photos were sent page by page; I cropped them and combined them for ease of viewing, which explains the mismatches from left to right. (As always, click to enlarge.)

Title page and copyright page

What is most striking about this entire method, which, as Yves Chiron describes, was also practiced by (indeed, pioneered by) Bugnini in Italy, is how much blathering is going on. Throughout the Mass there is “Une Voix,” presumably a layman, who acts as the reader or “commentator” in some cases; and there are many short texts and some long texts that “Toutes” (All) are supposed to say.

The priest, meanwhile, is doing his part at the altar in Latin, so there is a parallel Mass: his in Latin and everyone else’s in French.

A rather heavy-handed attempt is made to bring out the Trinitarian structure of everything: the Kyrie, the Gloria, the Credo... Yes, of course, it’s there and it’s important, but whatever happened to not hitting people over the head with a didactic shovel?

There is a lot of chatter DURING the Roman Canon, as Une Voix laboriously explains to Toutes that now we are praying for the Church militant, now we are offering the Victim, now we are praying for the dead... What strikes me the most is how the pious paraphrase being spoken throughout by the people is so much akin to the “methods of hearing the Mass” that the same Liturgical Movement held in such disdain! It’s as if they simply transferred private devotion into a public mode. This was surely a far cry from Pius X’s “don’t merely pray at Mass, pray the Mass!”

It is actually refreshing to see the act of Spiritual Communion placed right where it is, as a gentle reminder that not everyone should go up to Communion, but only those properly disposed to do so. And thankfully, this act is left... unannounced and unrecited by Toutes. Sadly, even the Last Gospel has to be paraphrased and simplified.

Even the thanksgiving after Mass is corporate and vocal.

It is very difficult to read a method like this and not to wonder, “What in the world were they thinking?” Just because you recite a lot of pious phrases about the Mass all along does not mean you are participating in the holy oblation, the ultimate sacrifice. In fact, you might just miss it altogether by skating on the surface and having no opportunity for recollection, assimilation, and self-offering from the depths of one’s soul.

In his 1975 Apostolic Exhortation Evangelii, Pope Paul VI—who only six years earlier had unleashed on the world a Mass that was patterned after this kind of “Messe Dialoguée en Français”—lamented: “Modern man is sated by talk; he is obviously tired of listening, and what is worse, impervious to words.”

Physician, heal thyself.

Visit Dr. Kwasniewski’s Substack “Tradition & Sanity”; personal site; composer site; publishing house Os Justi Press and YouTube, SoundCloud, and Spotify pages.

A Modern History of Gothic Vestments, 1838-1957 (Part 3): Guest Article by Nico Fassino

This is the third part of Mr Nico Fassino’s article on the history of the revival of Gothic vestments; the first part covered the period from 1841-1863, and the second part from 1863-1925. Mr Fassino is the founder of the Hand Missal History Project, an independent research initiative dedicated to exploring Catholic history through the untold and forgotten experiences of the laity across the centuries. Learn more at HandMissalHistory.com or @HandMissals. Once again, we are very grateful to him for sharing his interesting and thoroughly well-researched work with us.

A chasuble made for Cardinal Odoardo Farnese, ca. 1590-1610, designed by the painter Annibale Carracci. Image from Wikimedia Commons by Sailko, CC BY 3.0.

The Vatican “Ban” of 1925

The use of Gothic vestments continued to spread in England and elsewhere. For example: by 1925, it was reported that every single Catholic church and chapel except one (the Oratory of St. Philip Neri) in the Diocese of Birmingham used Gothic vestments. [38]

That year was a momentous one for the story of Gothic vestments. Pope Pius XI had proclaimed 1925 as a Holy Year, and Rome was chosen as the host city for an International Exhibition of Modern Christian Art. During the exhibition, “newly-made vestments, according to the Borromeon proportions, were shown in a special audience with Pius XI, who approved their use and blessed them.” [39]

Afterwards, there seems to have been a desire by some in Rome to walk back any idea of increased Gothic permissions. On December 9, 1925, the Sacred Congregation of Rites responded to a question regarding vestments. The rescript was exceedingly brief, did not formulate any new regulations or details, and simply referred the question back to the well-known letter of 1863, which was appended to the response:

[Question]: In the making and use of vestments for the sacrifice of the Mass and sacred functions, is it permissible to depart from the accepted usage of the Church and introduce another style and shape, even an old one?

[Response]: It is not permitted, without consulting the Holy See, in accordance with the Decree or circular letter of the S.R.C., given to Ordinaries on August 21, 1863. [40]

This was the very first time that the text of the 1863 letter had been published in any official collection of decrees of the Sacred Congregation of Rites. It is likely for this reason that the 1925 reply was commonly viewed as a ‘new’ or ‘updated’ Roman intervention on Gothic vestments, despite the fact that the reply merely pointed back to the original letter.

The Ecclesiastical Review, Dec, 1925, p. 626

The 1925 reply quickly raised questions around the world. It was reported in some quarters as an attempt to stop the widespread adoption of Gothic vestments. The editors of the Ecclesiastical Review answered several questions about it, discussed the original 1863 letter, and again did not interpret the decision to mean that ongoing use of Gothic vestments (or even the manufacture of new ones) was forbidden:

“Hence, while the use of the so-called Roman chasuble, in which the shoulder parts slightly overlap, is recognized as the prevailing approved custom, many churches in England, Germany, America, and even in Rome, adopt what is designated as the Gothic style to distinguish it from the purely Roman. It is certainly the more graceful of the two, and hence is commonly adopted in ecclesiastical art.” [41]

“The use of the Gothic chasuble in the modified form adopted by St. Charles and proposed by Bishop Gavanti, the Roman master of Pontifical ceremonies, is not forbidden. [...] The traditional right, which is not merely a privilege, of using Gothic vestments as described, was not abrogated by Pius IX or the S. Congregation, but continues wherever it has been regularly or accidentally adopted before that time.” [42]

As news of this reply from Rome spread in English-speaking lands, it produced a decent amount of confusion, and in some cases seems to have been met with barely a shrug. [43] Tongue-in-cheek commentary was offered in diocesan newspapers about the “battle of vestments” and the absurdity of attempting to define how ‘amply cut’ a vestment could be before it became forbidden.

The Catholic Transcript, April 15, 1926. p. 4

Gothic Vestments after the ‘ban’ of 1925

Given this reception and interpretation of the 1925 rescript, it will not be surprising that Gothic vestments continued to be used and continued to spread in the years which followed. In the decade following the 1925 document, they were discussed as normal and licit things by diocesan newspapers and the US Bishops’ news service; they were manufactured and advertised by church goods retailers, they were used in the presence of bishops and by bishops themselves; they were even used by papal legates and by the pope himself!

Gothic Chasuble commissioned in 1929 by Cardinal Francis Bourne. From Dom E.A. Roulin, Vestments and Vesture: A Manual of Liturgical Art (London: Sands & Co, 1933), page 94.

• In 1926, Gothic vestments were used at the Solemn Midnight Mass at the Franciscan Monastery of the Holy Land in Washington, DC. [44]
• In 1927, the US Bishops’ news service praised Sacred Heart church in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, for fostering a liturgical revival and specifically commented upon the exclusive use of Gothic vestments. [45]
• In 1929, a special set of Gothic vestments was worn on the feast of St. Ignatius and Golden Jubilee of Rev. William Cunningham, SJ at the Church of the Gesù in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. [46]
• In 1929, Cardinal Francis Bourne commissioned Gothic vestments for Westminster Cathedral during the celebration of the centenary of Catholic Emancipation. [47]

On March 19, 1930, Pope Pius XI used Gothic vestments during mass at St. Peter’s, and allowed himself to be photographed while doing so. [48] Gothic vestments were widely used throughout Rome during these years, including by cardinals in the catacombs, at the Basilica of St. Sebastian, and in celebrations organized by the Pontifical Academy of Martyrs and presided over by the papal master of ceremonies. [49]

Pope Pius XI celebrating Mass in a Gothic chasuble made for him by the Poor Clares of Mazamet, France. Source: Raymund James, “The Origin and Development of Roman Liturgical Vestments” (Exeter: Catholic Records Press, 1934), page 2.

In 1934 the Catholic Church in Australia held a National Eucharistic Congress in Melbourne, celebrating the centenary of the church in that country and featuring “unprecedented” spectacular ceremonies and vast numbers of clergy and laity. On November 30, following the opening ceremonies for the congress, pontifical high mass was celebrated at St. Patrick’s Cathedral by papal legate Cardinal Joseph MacRory in the presence of 60 bishops and 450 priests from around Australia. The cardinal and celebrating ministers wore Gothic vestments. [50]

The Telegraph (Brisbane), Nov. 30, 1934, p. 7 

The following day Archbishop Filippo Bernardini, papal nuncio to Australia, celebrated another pontifical high mass in St. Patrick’s Cathedral for a crowd of more than 7,500 people, wearing Gothic vestments, which were frequently used throughout the Eucharistic Congress. [51]

Full approval of Gothic Vestments

In the years which followed, various members of the hierarchy of Australia continued to use Gothic vestments in high-profile settings, as in 1937, when Archbishop of Adelaide Andrew Killian used them during the consecration of Francis Henschke as Bishop of Wagga Wagga. [52]

They continued to receive official approval and use around the world during these years, for example, being authorized for the Archdiocese of Malines by Cardinal Jozef-Ernest van Roey in 1938, and by the Second Diocesan Synod of Quebec in 1940. [53]

Gothic vestments even reached the literal ends of the Earth during this period. During the US Navy’s Antarctic Expedition, on January 26, 1947, the first ever Catholic Mass offered in Antarctica was celebrated in extremely rustic conditions in the mess hall of camp ‘Little America IV’ on the Ross Ice Shelf. Rev. William Menster, chaplain of the flagship USS Mount Olympus, used green Gothic vestments. [54]

At left, Rev. William Menster; at right, the USS Mount Olympus (AGC-8) in Antartica, 1947. (Sources: left and right.)

Finally, on August 20, 1957, the Sacred Congregation of Rites issued a decree which gave bishops the right to permit the use of Gothic vestments in their own dioceses. From this point onward their use, which had been regular throughout the world by priests and bishops alike since 1925, only further increased.

NCWC News Service, Aug. 31, 1957, wire copy p. 8

Conclusions

This concludes our survey of the use of Gothic vestments between 1841 and 1957. It is a story far more complex and fascinating than that depicted by conventional narratives. What can we make of all this? I think there are several key points which are worthy of summary and further discussion.

First, it is abundantly clear that the ‘revival’ of Gothic vestments in the modern period was much more widespread throughout Europe–particularly in England, France, and German-speaking lands–much earlier than commonly thought. By 1849 it was authorized by multiple bishops (in some cases on a diocesan-wide basis) across the continent.

Second, it is also clear that from the very early days of the Gothic revival, there were some officials in Rome who were skeptical and disapproving of the use of these vestments. The number of those who disliked the Gothic, as well as their roles and the intensity of their opposition, varied over the years. On multiple occasions, the popes themselves directly gave approval for and/or approving remarks about Gothic vestments. But in general, there was consistently more opposition than support from various members of the curia.

Despite this, it is also evident that Rome did not ever unequivocally condemn or actually attempt to stamp out the practice, and that there was widespread toleration of Gothic vestments, which evolved into permission to the local bishops. [55] There were no formal restrictions against Gothic vestments until the circular letter of 1863, and even then it was not viewed by chanceries and clerical journals around the world as a strict ‘ban’. The text of the letter was not published for more than 60 years afterwards and not a single different or clarifying statement was ever issued by Vatican officials.

It’s obvious that there was a persistent lack of clarity on what Rome permitted, tolerated, or forbade, as is evident from the number of times the question was raised in clerical journals and Catholic periodicals). There was also a widespread interpretation that Gothic vestments could continue to be used with the permission of the bishop. Because of this, the situation varied from diocese to diocese and region to region. In some cities or dioceses, the use of Gothic vestments was fully approved; in others, it was forbidden or limited.

All of this demonstrates how difficult it would be to claim that there was a clear message from Rome or to assign the label of disobedience to those many priests, bishops, and laity who produced, purchased, and used Gothic vestments for decades even after the 1863 letter. They were discussed approvingly in diocesan newspapers, permitted and used by the bishops and cardinals of the region, and routinely sanctioned by canonical and clerical journals. If the use of these vestments was in fact disobedient or forbidden during these decades, could the common priest or member of the laity have been expected to discover that fact with any certainty? [56]

Even after the Vatican rescript of 1925–which merely pointed back to the 1863 letter, and again, was not interpreted as a ban–the use of Gothic vestments did not slow or diminish. Just 5 years after the rescript, the pope himself was photographed in Gothic vestments. Within less than a decade, multiple papal nuncios and legates were regularly using them in the most high-profile and public ceremonies possible.

Photograph of the Gothic vestments blessed by Pope Pius XI in 1925. Source: Dom E.A. Roulin, Vestments and Vesture: A Manual of Liturgical Art (London: Sands & Co, 1933), page 82.

Because the use of Gothic vestments was so widespread before 1900 (and was desired and encouraged by so many different priests and bishops in so many different countries for so many years) it seems clear that it would have been essentially impossible to avoid the trend even without the advent of the modern Liturgical Movement in the 1920s.

If Rome truly viewed the ongoing use of Gothic vestments as a clear abuse or explicitly forbidden, it must be said that they handled it in one of the worst and most ineffective ways possible. Furthermore, once papal representatives and the pope himself began to even occasionally use them for public masses, any remaining doubt about their permissibility was eliminated in the mind of Catholics around the world.

Following the decree of 1957, Gothic vestments came to dominate the ecclesiastical landscape and their use for the last several decades has been essentially universal. Contrary to the expectations of the writer in America in 1910, it seems that the vast majority of priests in the mid-20th century did not adopt the Gothic with “heavy hearts” after all. It is also interesting that the lighthearted commentary from 1926 now appears to be extraordinarily prescient:

“The question of amplitude or non-amplitude in vestments will never, let it be hoped, rise, or descend, to schismatical proportions. There was a long dispute over the date of Easter. The war of the Vestments ought to be settled within a generation or two at the utmost.” [57]

And indeed it was.

NOTES (numeration continued from previous article):

[38] The Advocate (Melbourne), June 4, 1925, page 15.

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A Modern History of Gothic Vestments, 1838-1957 (Part 2): Guest Article by Nico Fassino

This is the second part of Mr Nico Fassino’s article on the history of the revival of Gothic vestments; the first part was published on Wednesday. Mr Fassino is the founder of the Hand Missal History Project, an independent research initiative dedicated to exploring Catholic history through the untold and forgotten experiences of the laity across the centuries. Learn more at HandMissalHistory.com or @HandMissals. Once again, we are very grateful to him for sharing his interesting and thoroughly well-researched work with us.

Reception of the 1863 letter

Despite the 1863 letter from the Sacred Congregation of Rites, the use of Gothic vestments did not seem to be much changed in the years which followed. Records demonstrate the widespread and uncontroversial use of Gothic vestments around the globe during these years, including:

• In 1870, a magnificent set of Gothic vestments worth approximately $50,000 in modern valuation was given to Bishop Richard Roskell of Nottingham for use in the cathedral. [15]
• In 1873, Archbishop of Sydney John Polding wore “rich” Gothic vestments as he ordained Christopher Reynolds as Bishop of Adelaide in a large ceremony attended by at least four other Australian bishops. [16]
• The 1867, 1879, 1883, and 1885 retail catalogs of Benziger Brothers, the premier Catholic publishing house and church goods retail in the United States, offered Gothic-style vestments. [17]
• At his ordination by 1887, newly-consecrated Bishop of Wilcannia John Dunne wore “a superb and costly” set of white and gold Gothic vestments. [18]
• By 1895, one account observed: “… there is a great diversity in this respect [of vestments] in the Roman Catholic Church. In England, the Gothic, French, and the Italian chasubles are all freely used by the Roman Catholic Clergy. [...] The Swiss Roman Catholic clergy and those in many parts of Germany use Gothic vestments, not those of Renaissance form”. [19]

Archbishop of Sydney John Bede Polding in Gothic vestments, 1866

Another summarized the situation thus: “[a]s in England, so also on the Continent, the advance of the ample chasuble was notable. By 1900 many dioceses in Western Europe could show churches where it was in use. Some of them had secured indults, some had simply accepted a growing custom, and all could cite the example of Rome itself, where several cardinals and at least two popes (Pius IX and X) encouraged the ample chasuble and used it themselves.” [20]

Helene Stummel, ca. 1890

Helene Stummel, wife of the famous artist Frederick Stummel, was a vestment maker, and a passionate advocate for the revival of Gothic vestments during these years. She was sought after by many bishops, taught regularly across Europe, and published books on recommendations for the design of vestments:

“Madam Stummel has lectured before cardinals, bishops, and the clergy in Rome, before the Congresses of Cologne and Dusseldorf. Recently a number of the Bishops of England have invited her to speak before the conferences of the clergy and in their seminaries to the students of theology. She possesses a singular mastery of the subject, and has the means to illustrate her clear and erudite expositions from a rare collection of paramentics gathered and disposed with artistic skill and a thorough realization of the dignity of the subject.” [21]

One may wonder how such a situation could exist following the circular letter of 1863. It seems exceedingly implausible that significant numbers of bishops and priests of multiple countries throughout the world were deliberately disobeying Roman directives. What then is the explanation?

Interpretation of the 1863 letter

First, it is interesting to note that the 1863 letter was not published or included in the official collection of decrees and decisions of the Sacred Congregation of Rites for more than sixty years after it was written. It is possible that, because of this, in some isolated cases the letter went unheeded due to lack of awareness, or because it was viewed as less authoritative than a formal decree. [22]

The letter was widely known in general, however, and regularly cited in clerical journals or similar interpretive authorities. These discussions demonstrate how the 1863 letter was understood and applied over decades and suggest an explanation for why the use of Gothic vestments continued: in short, the letter was not considered to be an unequivocal or totally restrictive ban.

Writing in 1884, the editors of the Irish Ecclesiastical Record explained that this letter permitted Gothic vestments to continue to be used but prevented any new vestments from being produced: “[i]n the face of this decree, it is not lawful to manufacture new vestments of this pattern. The bishop may allow the use of those already made, till they are worn out.” [23]

Painting of Rev. William Lockhart, from the cover of “William Lockhart: First Fruits of the Oxford Movement” (Herefordshire: Gracewing, 2011).

Rev. William Lockhart, a convert and friend of John Henry Newman, offered extensive commentary on the 1863 letter in the pages of the Irish Ecclesiastical Record in 1890, stating that, among other things, the manufacture of ‘Borromean’ chasubles (in the size and shape prescribed by St. Charles Borromeo) remained fully permitted without requiring any special permission, as did the ‘Galway’ chasuble in Ireland. [24]

Despite the continuing use of Gothic vestments and the prevailing interpretation that the 1863 letter permitted this (but not the manufacture of new ones), Rome did not issue any further instructions, clarifications, or restrictions. [25]

The hated modern ‘French’ style

It is also worth noting that there were a number of prominent clerical and lay figures during these years who regularly wrote about their preference for the Gothic style in clerical journals and Catholic periodicals. Ernest Gilliat-Smith, for example, wrote in 1890, “... to my mind, Gothic vestments are preferable to Roman, both from an artistic and symbolic point of view, and I hope and trust that one day their use may be universal.” [26]

There was also widespread and long running disdain for the cheap, mass-produced French (modern fiddleback-style) vestments. These had undergone rather significant changes in style – described by some as “cutting and clipping” and others as “mutilation” – both before and after the French Revolution. These new forms were not forbidden by Rome and had quickly spread throughout Italy and elsewhere. [27]

Example of French-style clerical dress, 1776

The trend was described by the editors of the American Ecclesiastical Review as “[t]he growing abuse of the viol- (fiddle-) shaped chasuble, forced on the ecclesiastical market by the French makers of paramentics and silk merchants.” [28] Commentary in the Irish Ecclesiastical Record in 1890 is at turns both comical and illustrative, and seems worth quoting at length:

“Who can describe the abortion of the chasuble that pervades France at the present day? Fiddle-shaped in front, not coming down to the knees, stiff with buckram, or paper pasted on the poverty-stricken half-cotton-half-silk material of Lyons manufacture. They are as stiff as tea-boards, and crack if they are bent.

“I was told a story lately in Belgium, of a priest who objected to the stiff paper pasted between the flimsy silk and cheap cotton lining. The manufacturer [...] misunderstanding the objection of the priest, replied: ‘Yes, M. l‘Abbe, we always use paper, in order that they may wear better, and to add to the substantial appearance of our vestments; but I assure you, on this point I have a delicate conscience, and I never put into vestments anything but des bons journaux Catholiques [good Catholic newspapers].”

“These Lyons vestments are going every day all over the world. They are cheap, and Les Dames pieuses can thus make their collections go a good way in providing vestments for Les Missions Etrangeres. [...] We need not wonder that Pius IX intimated in the letter of Cardinal Patrizi that there might be good reasons (rationes alicujus ponderis), in favour of a return to the more ancient form of the vestment.” [29]

Even the noted authority Bishop Josephus van der Stappen commented dismissively on the French corruption of the chasuble:

“Hence, when the ancient chasuble had, in the course of time, been cut down from its generous proportions of old, to the skimp reduction of modern times, and the evil had found its way from France into the neighboring countries, there arose in England, France itself, Germany, and Belgium men who, animated by a zeal for Christian art, sought on their own account to restore the ancient practice by adopting the more beautiful style of Gothic vestments...” [30]

American Gothic (Vestments)

In America, by the turn of the century, there was some regular use of Gothic vestments and clear clerical support for more. Even the editors of the Ecclesiastical Review, nobody’s idea of progressive innovators, routinely featured pieces and editorials supporting their adoption.

Excerpt from the Ecclesiastical Review, April 1910

Beyond mere support, the Review was considered to be a driving force behind a movement pushing for the change in vestments. A letter from 1910 begins: “To the Editor, The Ecclesiastical Review. My hearty congratulations upon the movement you have started for the very desirable reform in our church vestments. Enclosed is a typical letter showing that you have many well-wishers with you in this matter…” [31]  Multiple examples of proposed Gothic designs were published in the Review, along with example measurements of what was permissible.

Model of proposed Gothic chasuble in the Ecclesiastical Review, December 1909, page 687.

The use and permissibility of Gothic vestments were widely discussed in various Catholic publications of the time. Some discussions even considered the potential future of a Roman decree to abandon fiddlebacks and exclusively adopt the Gothic! A 1910 editorial in the Jesuit journal America commented on the matter in a rather cheeky fashion:

The proper form and colors of vestments is being discussed in the Ecclesiastical Review[…] they represent a school long in existence in Germany and England, and are strong in art and aesthetics. We fear the faithful are largely Philistines [regarding which style of vestments they prefer]. Moreover, the Latin races are not likely to submit gladly even in this matter to the Teuton. [...]

If the Holy See so ordains, priests will all exchange our aniline-dyed, fiddle-shaped vestments for modified Gothic of subdued, esthetic hue. But many will do so with heavy hearts and there will be heavy hearts, too, among their people. It is hard to part with old friends, and the modern form and the bright colors have many to love them. For, after all, as Andrew Lang, singing in ‘The Galleries’ the charms of the two schools of art, confesses: ‘You still must win the public vote, Philistia!’ ” [32]

Examples of a proposed three-tiered system of vestments, in the Ecclesiastical Review, March 1910, page 351. This system was devised by Bishop Wilhelm von Keppler of Rottenburg, Germany. [33]

Through the first decade of the twentieth century we find records of the use of Gothic vestments across America. In 1910, Gothic vestments were in use in St. Mary’s church in Portland, Oregon. The Tabernacle Societies of the cathedrals in Baltimore and Cincinnati, which funded supplies and furnishings for parishes too poor to afford them, regularly produced Gothic vestments during these years. [34]

In 1914, the general American situation was summarized as follows: “[d]uring the last few years there has been a steady advance, especially in our larger city churches, towards a more exact observance of the rubrics and the carrying out of the solemn services of the Church. One of the notable features has been a closer approach, in the matter of vestments, to the old Roman usage, and many churches have adopted altogether the use of the so-called Gothic (old Roman) chasuble in place of the violin-shaped garments introduced by Gallican enterprise.” [35]

Example of Gothic vestments being given to bishops as gifts. Source: NCWC News Service, May 28, 1923, wire copy page 15.

Parishes were proud to own fine Gothic vestments and hefty sums were paid out for the best sets from American and European retailers. They were also frequently given as gifts by various parish or diocesan groups to their priests and bishops. For example, in 1922 the St. Anne Married Ladies’ Sodality at St. Mary's parish in Dayton, Ohio paid $900 for an imported set as a Christmas gift to their pastor (equal to $16,345 in 2023 when adjusted for inflation). [36]

By 1924 they seem to be in widespread and regular use, at least in certain parts of the country. In Cincinnati alone there are multiple examples of Gothic vestments mentioned in less than 12 months: at the Student’s Crusade Castle chapel, at the parishes of St. Margaret of Cortona and St. Agnes, and even at the Cathedral. [37]

This concludes the second article in this series. The third and final article will explore the use of Gothic vestments between 1925 and 1957 and offer conclusions concerning the whole series.

NOTES (numeration continued from previous article):
[15] The Nottinghamshire Guardian, April 22, 1870, page 2. The set was donated by nuns of Cologne, Germany and was valued at between £400-500 in 1870, or £39,180 adjusted for inflation as of June 2023.

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A Modern History of Gothic Vestments, 1838-1957 (Part 1): Guest Article by Nico Fassino

Last November, we published a research project by Mr Nico Fassino on the 1954 English Rituale. He has now graciously shared with us a new project, this time on the history of the revival of Gothic vestments, which will be published here in three parts. Mr Fassino is the founder of the Hand Missal History Project, an independent research initiative dedicated to exploring Catholic history through the untold and forgotten experiences of the laity across the centuries. Learn more at HandMissalHistory.com or @HandMissals. Once again, we are very grateful to him for sharing his interesting and thoroughly well-researched work with us. 

I recently saw a question about the modern history of ‘Gothic’ style vestments in the Roman Catholic Church. How and when were they re-introduced? At what point were they fully authorized for widespread use?

I am not an expert on vestments and have never studied their history. I was only casually familiar with what I would call the “common” narrative: that Gothic style vestments were illicitly adopted by some members of the Liturgical Movement in the early 1900s, forbidden as an abuse by Roman authorities, and only authorized in 1957 after which they became increasingly popular.

I was curious. Was this an accurate account or was there more to the story? I decided to explore historic Catholic newspapers and other contemporary material to see what I could find.

English Revival: Origins & Debate

The modern history of Gothic vestments largely begins with Augustus Welby Pugin (1812-52), at least for English-speaking lands. Pugin was a convert to Catholicism and an extraordinarily prolific ecclesiastical designer and architect. It is impossible to overstate his role or influence in launching the Gothic Revival movement.

Augustus Welby Pugin, by John Rogers Herbert, 1845 (source)

Bishop Thomas Walsh, Vicar Apostolic of England’s Midland District (one of the administrative regions of the English Catholic Church before the restoration of the hierarchy in 1850 - editor’s note), was a strong supporter of Pugin and “gave him almost a free hand in attempting to revive the old Gothic vestments of pre-Reformation days, besides encouraging him to build and restore churches in the Gothic style.” [1] This revival was not limited to England, however. On the Continent at this time, other figures were likewise involved in efforts to revive the use of Gothic vestments, including Dom Prosper Gueranger, abbot of monastery of Solesmes, and Canon Fanz Bock of the cathedral of Aix-la-Chapelle. [2]

Pugin’s efforts were quite successful and Gothic vestments were widely adopted by English clergy in these years. One notable public use of these vestments was at the opening of St. Mary’s College, Oscott in 1838 which was attended by several bishops and over 100 priests.

H.E. Bishop Antonio Mennini (then nuncio to Great Britain) wearing a Pugin vestment at St Mary’s College, Oscott, during a vocations conference held there in 2011.

But not all members of the English clergy were enthusiastic about these trends. Some, like Bishop Augustine Baines of the Westland District, opposed Pugin’s vision for vestments, church ornamentation, the restoration of Gregorian Chant, and other parts of the ‘English Catholic Revival’. Baines forbade his clergy to wear Pugin’s vestments and complained to Rome about them. [3]

In 1839, Bishop Thomas Walsh of the London District received a letter from the Congregation for the Propagation of the Faith which expressed displeasure with what he was permitting in his diocese. The letter also referred directly and dismissively to Pugin as “an architect converted from heresy” who was behind these innovations. Pugin corresponded about this with his friend and fellow convert Ambrose Phillipps De Lisle. De Lisle later wrote to another shared acquaintance and patron–John Talbot, Earl of Shrewsbury:

… that the College of Propaganda is to regulate even the minutest details of our ecclesiastical dress, is to assume for a foreign congregation a degree of power that has never yet been claimed by any Pope, no nor even by any General Council of the Church.

An uniformity of vestments or even of rites and Liturgies has never yet been enforced in any period of the Church [...] Italy has her Chasubles very different in many respects fm. those of France, of Germany, and of modern England [...] ; it is therefore idle to say that the restoration of the old English Chasuble hurts the uniformity of the Church, seeing that no such uniformity exists: it is equally idle to say that it infringes upon the rubricks ; when the rubricks were composed most assuredly the modern form of vestments existed not, and therefore if either offended against them, it wd. be the latter, not our glorious old English form. [...]

No, deeply do I deplore this lamentable business: its consequences if persisted in, will be most disastrous, the very idea of them fills me with horror and alarm. [4]

Despite the 1839 letter from Cardinal Franzoni to Bishop Walsh, and the initial despair of Pugin and De Lisle, no formal restrictions to the use of Gothic vestments were issued from Rome, and their use continued to spread throughout England, and in France, Belgium, and Germany.

English Revival: Continued Use

In June 1841, the new Cathedral of St. Chad in Birmingham–commissioned by Walsh and designed by Pugin–was opened in an extraordinarily grand ceremony attended by thirteen bishops from around the world (two from Scotland, one from the United States, and one from Australia) including Bishop Baines. [5] For this Mass, Bishop Nicholas Wiseman and the celebrating ministers wore a set of gold Gothic vestments which had been designed by Pugin. [6]

Illustration of the original interior of the Cathedral of St. Chad in Birmingham. From Robert Kirkup Dent, “Old and New Birmingham: A History of the Town and Its People” (Birmingham: Houghton and Hammond, 1880), page 458.

In the decades which followed, Wiseman would be appointed as the first Cardinal Archbishop of Westminster and become the driving force for trends within the newly re-established Catholic Church in England. He would continue to use Gothic vestments regularly. [7]

After the re-establishment of the Catholic Hierarchy and the First Provincial Synod of Westminster in 1852, now-Cardinal Wiseman traveled to Rome to submit the synodal decrees for Vatican approval. So widespread was the use of Gothic vestments at this time, it was rumored in the secular press that Rome intervened to edit the decrees in an attempt to regulate or ban them.

4. Dumfries and Galloway Standard and Advertiser, November 2, 1853, page 2.

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