Dr Scott Hahn on the TLM: An Assessment by Mr Matthew Roth

I am sure that many of our readers have already seen this interview with Dr Scott Hahn, published a few days ago by Cameron O’Hearn as part of his Mass of the Ages documentary project. A long time reader and Steubenville alumnus, Matthew Roth, was inspired to share with us his thoughts about what Dr Hahn says here, for which we thank him. Mr Roth is experienced in assisting with the celebration of the traditional Roman liturgy, and is especially interested in the history of the traditionalist movement in France, where he currently lives.

What Dr. Scott Hahn’s Public Support for the Traditional Liturgy Means

By Matthew Roth

Virtually all students of the Franciscan University of Steubenville are asked by practicing Catholics among their friends and family if they have ever taken a class with Scott Hahn, or if we have at least read his books. Sometimes, the answer is in fact negative. When I was an undergraduate, Dr. Hahn and I were only on the same campus for three semesters in the three years on the Hill in the post-industrial gem which is Steubenville, Ohio, and as a history major, I did not take any biblical theology classes with him, preferring theology electives that fit neatly into my interests.

Surprisingly, I have never even read his books beyond the footnotes of A Father Who Keeps His Promises (written for an academic audience, whereas the book was more popular, I found). But Dr. Hahn was of course a prominent figure on campus, as a mentor in prayer and faith, and is one of the most prominent Catholic biblical scholars and apologists in the English-speaking world. Therefore, when he speaks, he has my attention.

Dr. Hahn’s attendance at the traditional Mass at St. Peter’s in downtown Steubenville was consistent, so his preference is unsurprising. That he gave an interview on the subject is a surprising but a welcome development. Without diving into internal Franciscan University politics, that Dr. Hahn is able to say this reflects that the traditional Mass is popularly entrenched among Catholics, thirteen years after Summorum Pontificum. Incoming freshmen are now young enough to have spent all of their formative years attending only the traditional Latin liturgy, between the haphazard indult chapels and Masses which began after the motu proprio.

Pontifical Mass celebrated by His Eminence Raymond Card. Burke at the church of St Peter in Steubenville.

Second, Dr. Hahn is generally correct in his dispositions. The Church’s worship is fundamentally prayer and sacrifice, giving God that which he is owed. We must never forget that religion is primarily about the virtue of justice, not a series of beliefs with which we agree, and faith is by grace anyways, not pure reason. It is necessary to argue for the traditional Latin liturgy–– how else can we convince our pastors to celebrate it and our friends to attend?–– but polemic ought to be as measured as possible, as only “being all things to all people” will attract souls to the traditional Mass, and more broadly, to Christ.

We have a duty to nourish our souls, and it is hard to argue against going to great lengths to attend the traditional liturgy, but if we have no choice when fulfilling our Sunday obligation, then the Mass is the Mass. This is all the more reason to attend the traditional Mass frequently in order to increase in divine life while reducing the obstacles that impede growing in charity.

A little game of pretend is helpful here. A priest of a traditional community, and very dear to me, explained to me and my family that he and his confrères generally do not talk about the “new Mass” from the pulpit. To do so is an easy temptation, because most of us seek out the traditional Mass on purpose; few discover it by accident and stay without also going to the Novus Ordo.

But that the church of Rome herself has two liturgies in common and in widespread official usage is an anomaly; they are not analogous to the variant usages of the various papal basilicas, because the Novus Ordo was expected to totally displace the traditional liturgy. When this didn’t happen, Pope Benedict XVI created a unique legal status, which allowed as many priests as possible to celebrate the traditional liturgy without the interference of the bishops.

A traditional Mass at the chapel of Christ the King on the Steubeville campus.

So what does this mean for the priest? It means that in preaching, he should treat the traditional Mass and Office as normative, with limited qualifiers. Then the flock will come to believe that this is the faith, and eventually, the traditional liturgy will return in its plenitude. We have already seen this at work with the traditional ceremonies of Holy Week and slowly but surely with the pre-Pius XII rite of the Mass; perhaps one day, the breviary will be prayed as it was prayed from time immemorial.

This said, American Catholics tend to throw out the baby with the bathwater. French Catholics attached to the traditional liturgy are second to none in their efforts to preserve the liturgy of our fathers, but still sing the Laudate Dominum omnes gentes of the Taizé community and the Je vous salue, Marie, comblée de grâces made popular by the Communauté de l’Emmanuel, a charismatic community to which Mgr Dominique Rey belongs. The bishop of Fréjus-Toulon is the most traditional bishop in France, celebrating traditional ordinations for his diocese and traditionally-oriented communities alike, and is a self-described “tradismatique,” a portmanteau of “traditional” and “charismatic” that works equally as well in English. There is something to be said for integrating such prayers and songs into our life of prayer, without falling into the trap of the four-hymn sandwich or the necessity of the vernacular, which Dr. Hahn nimbly argues against in discussing participation.

It might be true that France was rural for so long into the twentieth century that these songs are more organically connected to traditional music and ways of life, or that Americans and other English speakers are broadly cut off from our past in such a way that renders these melodies cheap or saccharine, but to embrace this possibility is to open up another way of being spiritually healthy, without constantly seeking to mark oneself as different from other Catholics. In short, pick your battles. By way of conclusion, I offer this periphrasis, again borrowed from the French. Catholic Scouting today shows us that we are not made for this world, as the Scouting movement revolves around the liturgy, to which all activities ––pilgrimages, spectacles and variety shows, camping–– are anchored. However, while we are in this world, we ought to strive for a society which reflects divine and natural law, one which promotes peace, supports families, and most importantly, provides for the right worship of God. To this end, the Roman liturgy is the means for most baptized Catholics, as well as being an end in itself, and it provides the nourishment that lifts the reason of the most intellectual and orders the senses of the most sentimental, so that we might be filled with the grace of the Spirit in every moment; something to consider in this sublime season after Pentecost when such themes predominate in the propers of the Mass.

If you take no other lesson away from Dr. Hahn’s conversation and my reflection, then take this one, in order to weather the storm and emerge in triumph behind the royal banner of Jesus Christ the King.

Chance for NLM Readers to Get Free Scott Hahn Book, and Up to 50% Off Emmaus Road Publishing Books

I have just been told about the news that Scott Hahn’s St. Paul Center for Biblical Theology has merged with Emmaus Road Publishing. They are also partnering with Lighthouse Catholic Media, whom many will know for the recorded talks sitting in racks at the back of churches. Lighthouse will serve as their distributor for their products.

I am a fan of all of Scott Hahn’s books. He has a great gift for articulating what can ordinarily be quite dry and abstract subjects in a way that is accessible and interesting. His book the Lamb’s Supper - the Mass as Heaven on Earth was a revelation (if you’ll forgive the pun). It was the first time that the Book of Revelation had made any sense to me, and it changed dramatically my whole idea of what the liturgy is in an exciting way.

The St. Paul Center was founded by Dr. Hahn to promote Scripture Study from the heart of the Church’s tradition. Similarly, Emmaus Road publishes authentically Catholic books covering, as they put it, ‘everything from sacraments to social issues, Church history to arts and culture.’

I am happy therefore to give this project my support, and wish it every success in its work for the Church.

In order to attract attention to what they are doing at this early stage, EmmausRoad.org is offering all books at discounted prices, up to 50%. Their catalog includes books by Mike Aquilina, Ralph Martin, Dan Burke, Emily Stimpson, Ted Sri, and many other popular Catholic writers. They are also giving away a free Scott Hahn book (Understanding “Our Father”), and will give you free shipping on one order.

He tells you about it here:

The Book of Revelation: Guide to Catholic Worship

According to Joseph Ratzinger, the last book of the Bible, Revelation or the Apocalypse of St. John, is showing forth a kind of “archetypal liturgy” to which all our earthly liturgies must bear resemblance:

With its vision of the cosmic liturgy, in the midst of which stands the Lamb who was sacrificed, the Apocalypse has presented the essential contents of the eucharistic sacrament in an impressive form that sets a standard for every local liturgy. From the point of view of the Apocalypse, the essential matter of all eucharistic liturgy is its participation in the heavenly liturgy; it is from thence that it necessarily derives its unity, its catholicity, and its universality. (Pilgrim Fellowship of Faith, 110-11)

In a General Audience on November 3, 2004, Pope John Paul II spoke about the Canticle in chapter 5 of Revelation:

The canticle just proposed to us . . . is part of the solemn opening vision of Revelation, which presents a sort of heavenly liturgy to which we also, still pilgrims on earth, associate ourselves during our ecclesial celebrations. The hymn of the Book of Revelation that we meditate today concludes with a final acclamation cried out by “myriads of myriads” of angels (see Rev 5:11). It refers to the “the Lamb slain,” to whom is attributed the same glory as to God the Father, as “Worthy is the Lamb … to receive power and riches, wisdom and strength” (5:12). It is the moment of pure contemplation, of joyful praise, of the song of love to Christ in his paschal mystery. This luminous image of the heavenly glory is anticipated in the Liturgy of the Church. In fact, as the Catechism of the Catholic Church reminds us, the Liturgy is an “action” of the whole Christ (Christus totus). Those who celebrate it here, live already in some way, beyond the signs, in the heavenly liturgy, where the celebration is totally communion and feast. It is in this eternal liturgy that the Spirit and the Church make us participate, when we celebrate the mystery of salvation in the sacraments (see Nos. 1136 and 1139).

In The Lamb’s Supper, Scott Hahn writes: “I suspect that God revealed heavenly worship in earthly terms so that humans—who, for the first time, were invited to participate in heavenly worship—would know how to do it” (122). Hahn goes on to suggest that the book of Revelation offered help to the nascent church in discerning what elements of Old Covenant worship to retain within the new worship of the New Covenant, inasmuch as the new both concludes and includes the old. In short: the Church can, and should, have buildings, ministers, candlesticks, chalices, incense, vestments, because her worship, being ordered to and derived from Jesus Christ, is the perfection of all that the old worship pointed to with these typological symbols, as yet to be fulfilled. They do not cease to be the symbols we need in order to perceive and enter into communion with Christ; they acquire a new purpose as symbols that point to a reality accomplished, a salvation won on the Cross, a glory shared with the faithful who may now enter heaven.

Who is the central figure of Revelation? The slain and risen Lamb, the Paschal or Passover Lamb that is given to us in the holy Eucharist, instituted by Jesus at the last meal he celebrated with the disciples before His atoning death. What is the central activity depicted in the book? Worship—either true (directed to God and the Lamb) or idolatrous (directed to Babylon, the beast, the whore, etc.). And what is the central metaphor? Marriage. You are either united as “one flesh” with the Lamb, washed clean in His blood and feasting at His table, or you are fornicating with the devil; the two cities are contrasted as a whore (the old, unfaithful Jerusalem) and a virgin bride (the new Jerusalem, the Church). The very term apokalypsis means “unveiling.” At the time Revelation was written, this term was used to describe, among other things, the unveiling of the virgin bride as part of the wedding festivities.

Barna da Siena, Mystical Marriage of St Catherine

In a nutshell, the book of Revelation is about true worship of the true God, a mystical marriage with Him; and this is brought about through the Church’s worship, that is, the sacramental life, especially Baptism and the Eucharist. Apart from this life, there is error, folly, despair, horror, and destruction—the history of fallen mankind, which wages war against the Lamb. (It is interesting to note that this book has received a title of honor that was subsequently extended to, or rather, recognized in, the entire body of Scripture, namely, “revelation”; and it is not incidental that not just this book, called “Revelation,” is about true worship of the true God, but all of Scripture is about true worship of the true God. Christianity is a religion principally and fundamentally concerned with adoring, loving, and serving the one true God, in which man’s salvation and the very content of love of neighbor consists. Put differently, there is no such thing as an “ethical reduction” or a “philosophical distillation” of Christianity; it is inherently bound up with sacrifice and sacrament, by which we profess our faith in God and yield ourselves to Him in love.)

Now, why does Sacred Scripture end with the Book of Revelation? The reason is as simple as it is profound: Revelation is not merely or even primarily the closure of a written book but the beginning of, or aperture to, something else that is greater than Scripture: the living worship of the living Body of Christ. This is the subtle but poignant response, far ahead of time, to Luther’s invention of sola scriptura: Revelation ends the Bible because it depicts and invites us to the Eucharistic banquet of the Lamb, which is where the things spoken about in Scripture are really present, in their fullest intensity. The written signs lead us to the reality signified; the bread of the word leads to the bread of life, the book to the altar. As Hahn writes:

For most of the early Christians it was a given: the Book of Revelation was incomprehensible apart from the liturgy. … It was only when I began attending Mass that the many parts of this puzzling book suddenly began to fall into place. Before long, I could see the sense in Revelation’s altar (8:3), its robed clergymen (4:4), candles (1:12), incense (5:8), manna (2:17), chalices (ch. 16), Sunday worship (1:10), the prominence it gives to the Blessed Virgin Mary (12:1-6), the “Holy, Holy, Holy” (4:8), the Gloria (15:3-4), the Sign of the Cross (14:1), the Alleluia (19:1, 3, 6), the readings from Scripture (chs. 2-3), and the “Lamb of God” (many, many times). These are not interruptions in the narrative or incidental details; they are the very stuff of the Apocalypse. (The Lamb’s Supper, 66-67)

In these final pages, when we behold the new Jerusalem descending from heaven, where does it descend to? Mount Zion, that is, the place where Jesus had eaten His last Passover and instituted the Eucharist, where the Holy Spirit descended at Pentecost, where the Christians in AD 70 were spared Roman destruction. “In other words, the new Jerusalem came to earth, then as now, in the place where Christians celebrated the supper of the Lamb” (Hahn, 102). Liturgy is anticipated Parousia, the ‘already’ entering our ‘not yet.’

If Joseph Ratzinger, John Paul II, and Scott Hahn are all correct in what they are saying—and one may wish to note that the connection between the earthly liturgy and the heavenly is a prominent element in the theology of liturgy offered in Vatican II’s Sacrosanctum Concilium—this becomes a powerful and truly unanswerable argument for the restoration of the sacred, the recovery of signs and symbols in every aspect of the liturgy from architecture to sacred music, the preservation or reestablishment of continuity with traditional Catholic worship, and the overwhelming need to enrich and “celestialize” the often sterile and impoverished vocabulary of contemporary liturgical life. The music we hear, for instance, should be awe-inspiring, or at very least, effective in elevating the mind to divine things, so that we may catch a faint echo of angelic music; the church building should be an evocation of the heavenly city, the sanctuary a magnificent image of the Holy of Holies. The ceremonies, in their solemn and ordered splendor, should draw the mind upwards into the majesty and mystery of God.

If we do not strive to have and do these things to the extent that it lies within our power, we are not just failing to implement Vatican II (a failure that happens so regularly it has ceased to attract notice or comment); we are not just running away from a tradition stretching back 2,000 years (and even longer, if we taken into account the Jewish background), bad enough as that would be. We are showing that we have not understood, assimilated, and embraced the very teaching of Divine Revelation. We are, in a sense, rejecting the root of our religion as such.

There is good reason, then, to return to a careful study of the Book of Revelation and to ask what this book is really teaching us about our life as Christians here and now and about the essential vocation of the Church, which is the glorification of God and the sanctification of souls in time of tribulation.