“The Fingers that Hold God”: The Priestly Benefits of ‘Liturgical Digits’: Historical, Theological, and Liturgical Conclusions

In this last part of the series (links to parts 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5), I would like to offer some thoughts that emerge from reflecting on the nineteen priests’ responses to my questions.

According to Jungmann, the custom of holding finger and thumb together arose in the Middle Ages, about the eleventh century, when

we begin to find, hand in hand with an increased care for everything connected with the Sacrament, the first signs of a new attitude. According to the Cluniac Customary, written about 1068 by the monk Bernhard, the priest at the consecration should hold the host quattuor primis digitis ad hoc ipsum ablutis. After the consecration, even when praying with outstretched arms, some priests began to hold those fingers which had “touched” the Lord’s Body, pressed together; others even began this at the ablution of the fingers at the offertory. In one form or another the idea soon became a general rule.[1]

Jungmann also notes that the increased theological attention paid to the Real Presence from the eleventh century onwards, particularly in response to the heresy of Berengarius of Tours (d. 1088) who reduced the Eucharist to a symbol of the Lord’s Body and Blood, prompted ever greater care:

Here [in clerical circles], in any case, and especially in the monasteries, the greatest care was from this time on devoted to the forms with which the Sacrament was surrounded; prescriptions about the choice and preparation of the materials, the custom of keeping the fingers together which—after a special cleansing [at the Lavabo]—had touched the Sacrament, the detailed rules for the ablution of the fingers and of the vessels after Communion.[2]

It is unquestionably true that the gradual rise in devotion to and theological understanding of the Most Blessed Sacrament spontaneously and organically prompted the development of all the many “forms with which the Sacrament was surrounded,” the customs that promoted due care and reverence for this most awesome mystery. The holding together of the thumb and finger is exactly what we would expect to find in a rite in which the priest really believes he is handling the very Body and Blood of God Incarnate, from the moment he begins to handle it until the moment he has washed his fingers in wine and water, restoring them, so to speak, to ordinary use.[3]

What, then, should we say about the almost flippant abolition of this practice on May 4, 1967? In the Second Instruction on the Orderly Carrying Out of the Constitution on the Liturgy Tres Abhinc Annos, published by the Sacred Congregation of Rites, we read (alongside dozens of other deformations of the rite of Mass): “After the Consecration, the celebrant need not join thumb and forefinger; should any particle of the host have remained on his fingers, he rubs his fingers together over the paten”[4]—with no explanation as to why a custom of at least 800 years’ standing should be discontinued. Humanly speaking, the 1967 “simplification” probably resulted from the general spirit of antinomianism among the liturgical reformers, animated as they were by a false conception of “simplicity” and “naturalness.”

If we take seriously the responses of the surveyed priests, and if we trust common sense, the Church’s faith in the Real Presence is objectively demonstrated and subjectively sustained by just such practices as these. It follows that the desire to abolish this custom, and the actual abolition and cessation thereof, has as its root cause the loss of faith in transubstantiation and the Real Presence. The custom’s absence has become one more factor that supports a culture of unbelief in these mysteries, even as its unexpected reappearance—not only in the usus antiquior, where it remains obligatory, but in the usus recentior, where it is making a comeback—has the opposite effect of heightening the priest’s awareness of the awesome mysteries he, though unworthy, is handling in persona Christi. 

A lex orandi that would strip away this and analogous customs (the many kissings of the altar, the many genuflections) is nothing other than a falsification and a denigration of the faith of the Church as it unfolded under the guidance of the Holy Spirit (cf. Jn 16:13), promoted by the dupes of fallen angels and wearing away the faith of the clergy and the people as acid rain wears away great monuments of art and architecture.

Fr. John Hunwicke reminded us that we have seen such anti-rubrical, anti-Catholic antics before:

After the regime of Edward Tudor had imposed the First Prayer Book upon the suffering clergy and people of England, the tyrants discovered that the clergy were assimilating the service as closely as possible to the Sarum Mass. So draft Articles of Visitation ordered “For a uniformity, that no minister do counterfeit the popish mass, as to kiss the Lord’s table; washing his fingers at every time in the communion; blessing his eyes with the paten, or sudary; or crossing his head with the paten; shifting of the book from one place to another; laying down and licking the chalice of the communion; holding up his fingers, hands, or thumbs, joined towards his temples; breathing upon the the bread or chalice; showing the sacrament openly before the distribution of the communion; ringing of sacrying bells; or setting any light upon the Lord’s board...”.[5]

In general, the Church over the centuries adds to the liturgy prayers, chants, and ceremonies expressive of the sacred mysteries. She does not take away deeply-planted, obviously meaningful legitimate customs; she does not deprive God of the reasonable homage owed to Him.[6] The holding together of the fingers from the consecration to the ablutions is not only a practice that should be kept, but one whose abolition should be protested and resisted by any who still believe in the de fide Eucharistic dogma of the Council of Trent. That such resistance did not occur widely in 1967 is a sign of the lobotomizing effects of neo-hyperultramontanism, where any command, however irrational and impious, is accepted “under obedience.”

* * *

The rubric of holding thumb and forefinger together is not what might be called a “major” rubric. It is probably not noticed by many of the faithful, especially in churches where the high altar is some distance away. Anyone familiar with liturgy could cite numerous other rubrics that seem to be more intrinsic to the Mass or more central to its devout celebration. Nevertheless, our series has vindicated the custom as a simultaneously practical, mnemonic, and symbolic gesture:

• It is practical because it prevents loss of sacramental particles and avoids the careless handling of other objects with the same fingers that have held and hold the species of bread. 
• It is mnemonic in the sense that the slight awkwardness of it, coupled with the fact that fingers are never held together like this at any other time or for any other reason, prompts the priest to have a heightened alertness as to what he is doing. 
• It is symbolic in that it makes of the joined thumb and finger a sign of the One before whom the priest stands—a sign given by the Church who decreed the rubric; a sign of reverence offered to Christ Himself, the Eternal High Priest, whose instrument the ministerial priest is; a sign given by the priest to other ministers around him and to any of the faithful who happen to notice; a sign of the coherence and consistency of the lex orandi.

The priest respondents (for whom we offer God our thanks) help us to see the value of every rubric, including the “little” ones, for cultivating and preserving a sense of awe, awareness, carefulness, priestly identity, doctrinal consistency, in everything that pertains to the handling of the Most Blessed Sacrament—the handling of the very Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity of Our Lord Jesus Christ, under the appearances of bread and wine, present wherever those appearances may be.

In the spiritual life, nothing little is merely little—no more than a fertilized egg is less human or more dispensable than a newborn baby or a fully-grown man. As I argued in the lecture I gave last summer at Silverstream Priory, “Liturgical Obedience, the Imitation of Christ, and the Seductions of Autonomy,” the salutary discipline of the liturgy, at once ascetical and mystical, consists in its demand that the practioner of it deny himself, take up the cross of ceremonial, textual, and musical obedience, and follow the Lord in the path His Bride has traced out in black and red letters—black of self-abnegating ashes, red of self-surrendering blood. “Do the red, say the black” translates spiritually into “Pour out the blood of your time, your energy,  your life, into the Church’s rites; become ashes to your self-will.” A genuine liturgy submerges the individuality of the celebrant in a manner of acting and suffering that belongs more properly to another than to himself; he serves as an instrument in the hands of the master—an intelligent instrument, to be sure, but one that uses its intelligence precisely to submit, to adore, to adhere, and to protect what has been given.

In the book In Sinu Jesu, which has nourished the prayer life of so many priests (may it do so for many more!), there is a striking passage in which Our Lord speaks to the monk about rubrics. These words seem particularly germane to “minor” rubrics, which are more easily neglected—or, sadly and scandalously, even abolished by “reformers” acting on utilitarian and minimalist principles.

The loss of faith that afflicts so many souls is incompatible with a life of adoration. Souls do not stop adoring because they have lost their faith; they lose their faith because they have stopped adoring Me. This is why I would have you hold fast even to the outward forms of adoration. When even these things are cast aside, there is nothing left to invite the soul to the inward adoration in spirit and in truth by which I am glorified. I speak here of the genuflection, the prostration, the profound bow and all the other marks of attention to My presence that provide the soul with a language in which she can express her faith and her desire to adore Me.
          Again, it is for this reason that I call My priests to learn and to practice faithfully the humble rubrics of the sacred liturgy. They are not important in themselves, but they are important in that they contain and express all the sentiments towards Me and towards My sacrifice with which I have endowed My Bride, the Church. One who dispenses himself easily from such practices is guilty of a sin of pride that opens the door of the soul to the cold and hostile winds that would extinguish the flame of faith within.
          Show yourself humble and obedient to My Church, and invite your brother priests to the same joyful fidelity, even in little things. I will reward them with an increase of faith, of hope, and of charity, and reveal to them the mysteries that My Father and I hide from those who think themselves learned and clever according to the world.[7]

NOTES

[1] Joseph A. Jungmann, S.J., The Mass of the Roman Rite: Its Origins and Development, trans. Francis A. Brunner (Notre Dame: Christian Classics, n.d.), 2:205. And: “Durandus enjoins that thumb and forefinger may be parted after the consecration only quando oportet hostiam tangi vel signa fieri,” that is, for either handling the host or making signs of the cross (ibid., n. 21).

[2] Ibid., 1:119.

[3] The objection that Byzantine clergy do not observe this custom is quite beside the point. They do not have the ‘canonical digits’ in the Western mode, but they are very careful about particles. One often sees the priests lick their hands and fingers to make sure that nothing is lost or dropped. The care with which I have watched Ruthenian, Ukrainian, and Romanian clergy handling the Sacrament and cleansing vessels and fingers is thoroughly edifying and far in excess of what one sees in all too many Roman Catholic settings.

[4] http://divinumofficium.com/www/horas/Help/Rubrics/TresAbhinc.html; see n. 12.

[5] I asssume the last is a reference to the Sanctus candle. For the quotation, see http://liturgicalnotes.blogspot.com/2017/07/cardinal-sarah-and-ordinariate-rite.html. Are we not seeing again today both “suffering clergy…assimilating the service [viz., the Novus Ordo] as closely as possible to the [Vetus Ordo],” and the ever-growing opposition to this Ratzingerian trend on the part of the old guard who stand for Law and Order—of a reductive modern sort?

[6] Even if there were practices of which people had lost the original understanding, it makes more sense to keep them and invest them with a new meaning, as the great medieval allegorical commentators on the liturgy did. This is the true spirit of receptivity rather than the Promethean spirit of revisionism.

[7] In Sinu Jesu: The Journal of a Priest at Prayer (Kettering, OH: Angelico Press, 2016), 87–88.

“The Fingers that Hold God”: The Priestly Benefits of ‘Liturgical Digits’ (Part 5)

Today, we come to the final question of the survey, when the responding priests address whether and to what extent laity have noticed this custom and what bearing it might have on those observing the Mass. (Links to earlier parts: part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4.) On Thursday, I will conclude the series with some philosophical and theological reflections.

Young people notice things...

QUESTION 5. Lay Observation and Piety

In your pastoral experience, has any layman ever commented on or asked about the holding-together of the fingers? Do you think it is noticed and has any bearing on the piety of the laity?

Fr. A.P.

I don’t recall anyone commenting on it. But all of the gestures in the usus antiquior are noticed by the laity, particularly children. This gesture, and the many other prescribed gestures, help the laity to foster reverence and devotion in their own bearing and prayers at Mass.

Fr. B.H.

I can’t remember lay people commenting on it one way or the other. But I do remember a liberal priest retreat master at a retreat for other priests some 25 years ago who ridiculed and excoriated the practice! He said (in these or similar words), ”Thank goodness we’ve now gotten rid of that artificial, prissy, unnatural-looking practice of holding our fingers together after the consecration!”  He was very big on insisting that the priest’s gestures manner of celebrating should look “natural” and “spontaneous” to the congregation.

Fr. B.J.

       On the occasions when I have been able to maintain custody of the digits in the Novus Ordo (e.g., because I did not have to handle several other vessels besides, before purification), no one has commented to me specifically on that. However, for all of the negative feedback I have gotten at times about how I “do the dishes,” I have also gotten some very beautiful feedback from lay people who have noticed the care that I take in the purification of the sacred vessels. There ARE people in the pew, even at your garden-variety Novus Ordo, who “get it,” and they ARE edified when things are done right.
       I have been intending for some time to produce a series of YouTube videos with principles of purification for the Novus Ordo (taking into account the different shapes of modern vessels, such as the “communion cups,” how to handle purificators, how to handle multiple vessels, etc.), but I have not had the time to act on this desire. It is sorely needed and I have a lot of ideas about what needs to be communicated. Maintaining custody of the digits is just the tip of the iceberg. Reception of communion in the hand is also sort of a symptom of a larger problem. Systemic disrespect for the Holy Eucharist is very widespread and extends from Bishops who absolutely should know better (but apparently do not) to very well-meaning Extraordinary Ministers of Holy Communion, and it is a great mystery to me how our Lord tolerates such grievous outrages for so long—with really only two or three Bishops (Schneider, Laisé, and to a certain extent, Morlino) ever speaking publicly about any of it! Lord have mercy!

Fr. D.C.

A few pious people have commented on it, saying they noticed it and were happy to see it.  Some youth have asked me about it “question and answer sessions” during Religious Education, which provides a great opportunity for catechesis about the Real Presence.  Not a single person has ever complained. 

Fr. D.F.

As I noted in response to Question 3, I do not ordinarily hold my fingers together during public celebrations of the Ordinary Form. Nevertheless, my answer to this question is yes. On several occasions (between five and ten), a layman has mentioned to me that he has noticed the way I hold my fingers together when turning pages, holding the chalice, etc. Sometimes, the person has raised the matter in the form of a question, curious as to why I do this. Most of the time, however, it has been mentioned in a spirit of gratitude, thanking me for a reverent ars celebrandi. I have not yet experienced anyone making reference to my practice in a pejorative fashion.

Fr. D.N.

When I was doing the Novus Ordo with liturgical digits, I got questions, but I don’t think the answers made any sense to the laity, considering crumbs of Our Lord’s body would be all over the place anyway. Hence, when I finally realized my answers to them were not in harmony with systematic protection of Our Lord’s body, I decided that I could only do the TLM. This is what I have done for the past four years, even as a priest in good standing with two dioceses.

Fr. E.W.

Occasionally, laypersons have asked me about the practice when I have used it in the more recent use. I can say from my own experience that seeing a certain priest for whom I served as altar-boy in my youth follow this practice in the usus recentior helped to foster wonder at the Real Presence in my soul.

Fr. E.P.

It has been noticed by others (even though I am rightly oriented at the altar) and has aroused curiosity, leading me to explain the purpose of it. The reaction to this explanation was always one of wonder at the great reverence for the holy Sacrament the Church expected to be shown by her priests. In the early days of my priesthood when sharing the sign of peace was expected of me (or so I thought), I would first wipe my fingers on the corporal (as is the practice for the TLM before the Consecration) in order to avoid any desecration of the Lord’s Body.

Fr. J.F.

I have never had a layman ask me about the practice, but I have talked about it in homilies trying to instill a greater awareness of the Real Presence.

Fr. J.K.

No one has ever commented on the way I hold my hands after the consecration. There have been many comments on the increased reverence in the celebration of the Mass, however. I have even heard some liberals comment that there is increased reverence and silence because of some of the initiatives I have offered at the Mass. These initiatives in the liturgy also were accompanied by preaching on the Mass as well as preaching on contraception, same-sex “marriage” and abortion. It is the combination of all of the above which caused the visceral anger among the liberal, heterodox crowd that caused my removal from my previous parish.

Fr. J.S.

Yes and yes. But for a full effect on the piety of the laity it is necessary to adapt a form of administering communion that is consonant with the finger-holding-action of the priest. So: communion on the tongue—preferably while kneeling. Otherwise it is a nice talking point from which to develop catechesis, but no more and not very effectively so because the reverence thereby shown by the priest is somewhat subverted by him distributing communion in the hand. This discrepancy I know from pastoral experience.

Fr. J.M.

No to the first part. The more observant will have noticed, but I’m afraid nowadays with such a range of shenanigans commonplace in liturgy worldwide and most priests making their own adaptations to the rubrics of the NO, I think a priest would have to dance on the actual altar (not just in the sanctuary) before people would think something odd is happening here!

Fr. J.B.

Not that I can distinctly recall. However, I have mostly done it in contexts where it is at least an already-known practice. My feeling, at least in my area of Austria, is that to the extent it is noticed, it may confirm laity in their eucharistic piety, but taken as an individual practice, doesn’t have much force to alter this piety; e.g., few who habitually receive in the hand (and with little reverence) would rethink their own practice or show greater reverence as a result of this practice by the priest. However, I believe that, as part of an overall renewal of liturgical practice accompanied by catechesis, it does play a role.
       Though I have limited experience as a priest in the USA, I suspect this observation of mine would generally apply much more to traditionally Catholic regions, as Austria and Italy, than to the USA.

Fr. M.K.

I suppose that ‘clerical’ religious women of a certain age will notice it and harrumph. Ordinary layfolk take it in stride as something quite normal and seemly.

Fr. M.C.

Of course. People regularly ask what we are doing there. And they understand the reasons for doing this. Some faithful even intuitively understand the reasons. Or more exactly: They ask why we are doing so, but then comment that they already felt “something different” in the priest's attitude towards celebrating the Mass.

Fr. M.B.

Many people have asked me why I hold thumb and forefinger together and I explain the general thinking of the practice.  I am unsure if it has any real bearing on the piety of the laity attending Mass.

Fr. P.M.

To date, no one has said anything to me regarding my fingers and thumbs together during part of the Eucharistic Prayer. But I must say this: this action has most definitely been recognized inasmuch as those who serve as Extraordinary Ministers of Holy Communion now have mimicked me, even handing me the ciborium at the altar with thumb and finger together and returning to the Credence table for their ablution. Without my ever having said anything, they now have a heightened awareness that their hands should touch nothing until after they have been purified!

Fr. T.K.

A layman, no, but a religious Sister once asked me the reason for the practice. It is noticed, to be sure, but I cannot say whether it has deepened the Eucharistic piety of the faithful.

Fr. W.S.

An old nun, who had not attended the Mass of Tradition since her childhood, remarked approvingly on the gesture, stating that she remembered being puzzled by it as a child.

ADDENDUM

A priest reading this series contacted me to share a marvelous story from his own life. He gave me permission to publish it in honor of his father.

I would like to offer my own thoughts about the use of canonical digits. My father was an Episcopal priest and he always observed this custom since his understanding of the Eucharist was clearly Catholic. I grew up seeing him up close, and how carefully and lovingly he handled the "elements." He once told me that there were two things which could provide the measure of how good a priest was: first how carefully he did the ablutions, and second, how available he was to shut-ins and the dying for the sacraments. He used to say that the most devout of his parishioners were those who came to the spoken Eucharist early each Sunday (which had no sermon in those days! Imagine: Protestants who went to church just for the Eucharist and not for a sermon: that is how strong the Catholic sense remained in some people, even after centuries).
       When I was ordained, it never occurred to me to celebrate the new Mass without observing the digitis clausis tradition. It was natural and instinctive. And when my abbot asked me about it I explained that it was because of what I had seen my father do. The abbot said that he had been intending to tell me to stop, since this gesture is not prescribed in the new missal, but that given my reason, he would let me continue! Later I noticed that Paul VI, even when celebrating the new Mass, always kept his index and thumb together after the consecration. It is practically impossible to find images of this on the internet, but it would be great to find some, so that everyone may know that even in the practice of the legislator who promulgated the new Missal this ancient practice was perfectly fine.
       If we had all done what we had seen our fathers in the faith do, everything would be fine!

“The Fingers that Hold God”: The Priestly Benefits of ‘Liturgical Digits’ (Part 4)

Continuing with our survey of priests (previous installments: part 1 / part 2 / part 3), today we take up the question of how this comparatively minor but, as we have seen, valuable and much appreciated practice fits into the larger whole of the liturgy.

QUESTION 4. The “Ethos” or Spirit of the Liturgy

In your mind, how does this practice fit into the overall “ethos” or spirit of the classical Roman liturgy?

Fr. A.P.

The classical Roman liturgy constantly emphasizes that one is taking part in the holiest act on earth: the renewal of the Holy Sacrifice of Calvary in an un-bloody fashion upon the altar. As such, this practice serves as a reminder and sign that my other movements, and the movements of my heart, should be particularly reverent from the consecration until the ablutions.

Fr. B.H.

I see it as one more example of greater reverence for and emphasis on the Real Presence in the traditional rite. But for me it is less important than other gestures like the double genuflections for the consecrations, facing 'East', the silent canon, and more signs of the cross and kissings of the altar.

Fr. B.J.

Because of the care I take in purifying sacred vessels, I have been accused many times of being “scrupulous” in how I “do the dishes” (this level of flippancy from the mouths of people in the pews is a sad commentary on where we are at today). Yet I would maintain that the detailed instructions and received tradition for purification in the usus antiquior are a safeguard against scrupulosity: if you have followed the instructions, you know that you have purified the vessels according to the mind of the Church, which is to say, in a way that reflects Church teaching concerning the Real Presence. Whereas for a priest whose only experience is with the usus recentior, the total lack of serious guidance about how to handle purification opens him to a wide range of possibilities, from a total lack of scrupulosity (and therefore sloppiness) to a scrupulosity fed by the fact that his faith tells him one thing but he must figure out on his own how to accomplish it and wonder if he has done it right. (The highly imprudent instruction in the GIRM about how one is to use the purificator to wipe the particles from the paten would only feed this sense of scrupulosity, since the sincere priest would then fret about particles that might get stuck on the purificator and then possibly fall to the floor afterwards when transporting it to the sacristy. How this instruction made it into the GIRM is beyond me, considering that the usus antiquior requires the thumb to be used, since the thumb can then be rinsed in the ablutions.) I really could launch into a separate “storytime” on this topic from here, but will curtail this and conclude by saying that the practice of maintaining custody of the canonical digits between the consecration and the purification is perfectly harmonious with the overall ethos of the classical liturgy.

Fr. D.C.

This practice perfectly fits into the overall “ethos” of the classical Roman Liturgy in that it is what we have done for centuries. Not only that, but it speaks to the utter awesomeness of the presence of Christ in the Eucharist. It also speaks to our doctrine regarding the Eucharist in that if we really believe that Jesus is indeed present in every particle of the Sacred Species, then we will go to great lengths to protect every particle of the Sacred Species. Celebrating Mass, and distributing Holy Communion using communion patens, it is clear to me that many, many particles fall from the Sacred Hosts, and also cling to my fingers. These particles, if we believe that they are actually Jesus Himself, must be protected from profanation or indifference. Keeping “canonical digits” is one way of protecting the Sacred Species. An anecdote could be helpful here: one time a priest who I would not describe as “traditional” visited my parish and helped distribute Holy Communion. We use communion patens and after Mass he shared how surprised he was to see so many particles of the Eucharist on the paten. He went home, and instituted the use of communion patens. This illustrates just how important things like keeping ones fingers together after touching the Sacred Host are. If so many particles fall from the Sacred Host at Holy Communion, they also, no doubt, stick to our fingers. To keep those particles that stick to our fingers from falling to the ground, being walked on, or vacuumed up by the cleaning lady, we should keep “canonical digits.”

Fr. D.F.

There is some truth to the description of the Roman liturgy as “practical.” In this sense, the practice of the priest holding his fingers closed is quite fitting, as it is a very practical conclusion of the Church’s belief in the Real Presence. 

Fr. D.N.

Liturgical digits gel with the ethos of the Roman Liturgy because everything is well-ordered. There is no need for creativity to reverence the body of Christ, to effect a sacrifice, to even know which foot to step up the altar first with (the right foot, of course). I once read a priest on an online forum write how unnatural all of this sounded to him. Within my first year of switching from the new Mass to the old Mass, however, I was astonished to find how natural all of this was. In other words, the Traditional Latin Mass is one single movement of reverence to God with no real breaks. The holding of the fingers is so clearly a part of this worship and reverence.

Fr. E.W.

It fits with an ethos that shows reverence for the awesome mystery of the Real Presence through formalization.

Fr. E.P.

Someone has written that he attributes the loss of priestly discipline of life to negligence in the observance of the rubrics of the missal. Our Lord’s authority for caring about such “little” things may be invoked: “He who is faithful in a very little is faithful also in much” (Lk. 16:10).
       There is an act prior to the Consecration that merits mention, too: the wiping of the two fingers of each hand on the corporal. This is a miniature cleansing rite (if that’s not too strong an expression) which, along with the washing of hands before Mass and then again at the Lavabo, is expressive of the purity to be sought by the priest before he will hold the Lord’s Body in his fingers.
       The ablution in the chalice of the fingers following Communion should also be noted. There is a rubric somewhere (or perhaps just a comment by a rubricist) to the effect that in the ablution of the fingers after Communion any other part of the hand that may inadvertently have touched the Host should also be purified.

Fr. J.F.

It is part and parcel of the the Traditional Rite and should be mandated in the Modern Rite. Too many priests treat the sacred particles as if they were bread crumbs. The practice of the canonical fingers ties in with the whole celebration of Mass. If a priest incorporates this practice into the new Mass, it can’t be stand alone. It must be part of a greater “cross pollination” of both forms of the Roman Rite.

Fr. J.K.

The act of holding together thumb and forefinger from the consecration until the ablutions is just one action among many in the traditional Roman rite. But the more I can conform myself to the rite, the more I pray I may conform myself to Christ. I believe that the more reverence that I can show in the ars celebrandi, the more reverence might be called forth from the congregation. In my experience, this has been the case. Some loved it, some hated it, and some did not even notice it.

Fr. J.S.

It is consonant with it.

Fr. J.M.

By expressing greater awe and reverence for sacred realities it is quintessentially Roman. The high and fearsome reverence of the words of the Roman Canon are mirrored in corresponding rubrics such as the canonical digits.

Fr. J.B.

The practice fits in well with, and can support the overall atmosphere of worship of the awesome mystery, the “one thing necessary,” that pervades the traditional Roman rite.

Fr. M.K.

It is wholly expressive of it.

Fr. M.C.

It is a strong sign of reverence for the precious species of the Eucharist, and in this way it fits perfectly with all the other ritual actions in the forma extraordinaria. I’m wondering why all priests do not do it this way spontaneously.

Fr. M.B.

It fits in very well since the liturgy should instruct on the nature of the Eucharist and protect the Eucharist from falling on the floor and the like.

Fr. P.M.

The action most definitely speaks our appreciation of Transubstantiation and the Real Presence of our Lord in the Eucharist.

Fr. T.K.

The practice is of a piece with the reverential and devotional spirit of the classical Roman liturgy, which takes the greatest care to safeguard the Blessed Sacrament from profanation.

Fr. W.S.

Yes, the ancient rite is coherently logical, from the principles of divine revelation to the minutiae of gestures.

Archbishop Alexander K. Sample offers the usus antiquior

“The Fingers that Hold God”: The Priestly Benefits of ‘Liturgical Digits’ (Part 3)

We continue our survey of priests on how they perceive this particular custom in their offering of the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass and how they have adopted or not adopted it in the context of the Novus Ordo Missae. (See here for part 1 of the survey; here for part 2.)

QUESTION 3. Lack of Rubrics and Mutual Enrichment

Has this traditional practice affected the way you view the corresponding lack of rubric in the usus recentior? Have you considered adopting, or do you adopt, the traditional practice in the modern rite? Why or why not?

Fr. A.P.

When I began celebrating the usus antiquior daily, and only occasionally the usus recentior, it became more and more apparent to me that the usus antiquior corresponded much better to the reality taking place in the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass. It became increasingly painful for me to celebrate the usus recentior, even when celebrated ad orientem and reverently. For example, I recall feeling particularly poignantly at the moment of the consecration that those words should be uttered sotto voce rather than out loud. Because I felt an increasing need to celebrate exclusively the usus antiquior, which I eventually did, I did not give much thought to how to adapt customs from the usus antiquior for use in the usus recentior. I would occasionally, instinctively, keep the thumb and forefinger together in the usus recentior, as it certainly seemed the more fitting gesture for the Holy Sacrifice. But on the whole I was simply trying to move away from its celebration altogether. 

Fr. B.H.

Answered already in no. 1 above.

Fr. B.J.

I generally do not maintain custody of the digits in the usus recentior, for practical reasons: often, in most celebrations, there is a plethora of “stuff” to be handled, such as the array of “communion cups” to be handed out to Extraordinary Ministers of Holy Communion. With the way these “cups” are shaped and the necessity to be careful in handing off the Precious Blood to another person, maintaining the digits is really not advisable. Therefore, I have gotten into the habit of thoroughly rubbing my fingers together over the chalice each time I have handled the Eucharist, and then visibly inspecting them afterward, before going on to handle some other item. It still does not feel right, but it is the only practical solution, until such time as we can do away with distribution under both kinds. That is the topic of another discourse, but suffice to say: many priests (myself included, at times) have judged that it is not worth “dying on that hill”—so hysterically do people react to the idea of “the wine” not being available; many Catholics are materially utraquists. Faith in the Eucharist is so weak and so uninformed. There is little to no episcopal leadership in this area (as in many others). Individual priests must fall on a sword and then watch all that they have done be destroyed a few years later when they are moved to a new parish and their successor restores everything they “took away”. In short, it’s a messy situation. While it persists, maintaining custody of the digits in common parish Novus Ordo celebrations is often difficult.
       (Aside: I was intrigued to notice that Cardinal Burke, while importing some things into the Novus Ordo such as the prayers at incensation, does not maintain “the digits”—something he clearly does do when celebrating the usus antiquior. It has never seemed appropriate for me to query him on this. I do wonder if it is a conscious decision on his part. It seems to me that the ethos of the Novus Ordo is so different and that one might not intuitively think to “import” this practice into it.) 

Fr. D.C.

I have adopted this, even before offering the Extraordinary Form. I believe, even though there is no rubric calling for it, that it is in total continuity with tradition. To me, when there is a lack of rubrics regarding something, the best practice is to adopt the posture, action, etc. from tradition. To me that is the Catholic position.

Fr. D.F.

It has been a struggle for many priests in the years since Summorum Pontificum to decide what steps toward “mutual enrichment” can be taken by the priest, himself, without direction from above. The rubrical silence of the Ordinary Form on many matters leaves leeway on the one hand, but the status quo of parish life and among presbyterates exerts pressure on the other. In my mind, holding the fingers closed would be an acceptable step to take in the Ordinary Form.
       Thus, on the occasions when I offer the Ordinary Form alone, I hold my fingers together. When I celebrate the Ordinary Form for a congregation, however, I do not. The reason for this is the (sadly very justified) concern of being written off by my diocese and/or brother priests as extreme or “too traditional.” In every Mass, however, I maintain the closed fingers in certain actions: turning the pages of the missal, the manner of holding the chalice, striking the breast at the Nobis quoque, turning the tabernacle key, removing ciborium lids, etc.
       Holding one’s fingers together becomes particularly difficult during the Pax as it is commonly observed in parish life. 

Fr. D.N.

See above answer [to question 2].

Fr. E.W.

I now usually adopt this practice in the new rite. Except when I am celebrating the conventual Mass in the monastery, for fear that it would annoy and distract certain of my confreres. However, even then I adopt a modified version of it: I join my fingers whenever I have to touch something—e.g., turn a page, or lift the pall, etc.

Fr. E.P.

I do indeed keep to this practice even when celebrating the “ordinary form” of the Mass.

Fr. J.F.

I adopted this position in the Novus Ordo within six months of celebrating the Traditional Roman Rite. It was difficult at first because I didn’t want to draw attention to myself. I use it at all times and wherever I celebrate Mass. The only times I felt uncomfortable has been in the presence of other priests. But, respect for the Blessed Sacrament is more important than human respect.

Fr. J.K.

When I celebrate Mass in the Ordinary Form, my preference is to use many elements that I have learned from the Extraordinary Form, especially because the rubrics are absent in the Ordinary Form. This includes the act of holding together thumb and forefinger from the consecration until the ablutions. This also includes the use of an amice with the alb, crossing the stole, wearing the maniple and using the biretta.

Fr. J.S.

I have adopted it, but then again, I like to joke I'm a liturgical liberal, not a rubricist. In my mind liturgical freedom ends where abuse begins. Abuse is not simply something done besides certain rubrics but something that is contrary to the liturgical end. Bearing in mind that the liturgy is the action of the Church not the act of an individual, I as an individual priest do not get to decide what befits the liturgical end. It is decided by the competent authority gaining the force of tradition at some point. But this competent authority not only exists in the present but has also existed in the past. So I think it is legitimate for the priest to select from those things that have been approved by the competent authority and that have gained the force of tradition at some point in time, AS LONG as those things were at no later point in time recognized or abolished as an abuse by the competent authority or were thus dropped as less fitting in the furthering of the liturgical end (e.g. due to excessive length, such as was the case of numerous personal priestly prayers that were interjected in the canon in the gothic era and later abolished by Trent).
       Following this rule, the priest would never get to invent anything according to private taste (barring therefore arbitrary innovation by someone lacking authority—which takes care of most modern liturgical abuse). Rather a priest who adopts a compatible element (one that is adaptable to current use) can be said to be reviving something from the past and "enriching" what is present. If his enrichment" catches on you get what is essentially liturgical development (sanctioned in virtue of previous authority/tradition and possibly re-approved by furture church authority).
       In my mind, on account of the nature of the liturgical reform in 1970 (in which much was changed but none of the old was forbidden as abuse) the priest can in principle adapt and enrich the NOM with virtually anything from the usus antiquior that lends itself to adaptation without contradiction (something would be contradictory if it has a "surplanting" character: for example changes in the liturgical calender or the actual missal texts and readings—which is the reason why for now in the German NOM we still have to say "for all" instead of "for many"—as confirmed by my bishop).
       This is basically my justification why I, as a liberal, celebrate the NOM—when I celebrate it (which I very rarely do anymore as a part time hermit)—as close to the old as is possible while keeping all the forms that are positively prescribed by the NOM.
       Possible objections to my reasoning: firstly, a greater "dis-unity" is the undesirably result if my liberal ways are followed. Respondeo, this objection is mute given the concrete and very mad reality in which we find ourselves. And a certain type of liturgical plurality was never a problem in the Church for the first 1500 years as long as it did not include abuse (i.e., that what is contrary to the liturgical end and that which has the force of competent authority/tradition). Pastoral concerns need to be weighted—and I believe pastoral concern may be in fact a very good reason to enrich the NOM with elements from the usus antiquior.       Secondly, if what was claimed above was true then priests could just go and try to recreate old liturgies from past centuries that were approved then. Respondeo, this objection does not hold, because I'm not advocating the (re)creation of a liturgy by the priest on account of its elements having existed at some point in time—which only the competent authority (however unwisely) could do (and in fact is somewhat what it tried to do in the last reform). Rather the priest may only incorporate fitting elements from the past to the current order of the Mass inasmuch as they are adaptable thereto. So he does not get to make up a new Eucharistic prayer based on ancient texts or replace this or that element with an ancient one. But he may hold his fingers together and sneak in a double genuflection, for example. Such latter changes would be sanctioned by tradition (previous authority) without destroying the integrity of the NOM, but rather enriching it.
       I don't know if this exposition is air tight. I never spent too much time rationalizing it. I virtually only celebrate vetus now and in the time before abided by the very traditional mode of celebration that was requested by my boss (parish priest) with toleration from my bigger boss (bishop). So as a simple vicar I more or less had to do things in a hybrid "new as the old" way (causing me little pain, as should be clear!).

Fr. J.M.

See above. The lack of this rubric leads to other lacunae in the NO, especially concerning De Defectibus. It all adds up to an undermining of what Aquinas would call a practical intellectual grasp of the truth of the Real Presence, even if the NO still has a valid theoretical intellectual adherence to the truth. But we are not pure intellect! We are also corporeal beings. And without a greater scope for prayer and worship to be expressed through gesture and for sacred objects such as the sacramental species to be recognised for what they are through how they are handled, then the modern liturgy will not be as fruitful in generating and sustaining faith as its traditional counterpart.

Fr. J.B.

As I can’t place myself into a situation where I don’t know the traditional rubric, I don’t know for sure, but probably if I didn’t know of the traditional rubric and practice, the lack of such a rubric in the usus recentior wouldn’t strike me particularly at all. I have considered following the traditional practice, and in some cases have, in celebrating according to the modern Missal, but do not generally in my current parishes. While there are various and to some extent complicated considerations for and against, one main reason why I do not is that in the countryside parishes where I am, the Mass tends to be seen as a mere tradition and ritual, and as merely “what the priest does,” and I believe more important developments need to be made in fostering interior and authentic participatio actuosa before my adopting this practice would be fruitful rather than counter-productive.

Fr. M.K.

I almost never celebrate the modern rite. Family funerals would be the rare exception. Then I do just as I do in the traditional rite because I cannot squeeze myself into another paradigm on command. It does violence to my soul.

Fr. M.C.

See response to #2.

Fr. M.B.

I have adopted the practice in the modern rite and I believe that there are three ways to read the rubrics of the ordinary form: (1) fill in the lacking rubrics from the extraordinary form on the assumption that the authors of the new rubrics had the old rubrics in mind; (2) the lack of information on things (like canonical digits, manipole, crossing the stole, etc.) is interpreted neutrally, meaning one is free to do or not do these things; (3) the lack of rubrics means one may not do things not mentioned. I follow options 1 and 2, believing that unless there is mention in rubrics of not doing something, the celebrant is free to do it if it was in the rubrics of the usus antiquior.

Fr. P.M.

I find myself, with the Ordinary Form of the Mass, holding my fingers and thumbs together, after the consecration until after the elevation of the Chalice, after which point I thoroughly wipe together my thumbs and fingers over the chalice. After I elevate the host over the chalice with the Ecce Agnus Dei and then consume the Host, I wipe my fingers and thumbs again over the chalice before consumption of the Precious Blood.  I hold my finger and thumb together after distribution of holy Communion until the ablution.

Fr. T.K.

I haven’t given much thought to the lack of said rubric in the postconciliar Missal. Sometimes I adopt the practice, and sometimes I don’t. If I’m celebrating Mass with a congregation that is accustomed to seeing it (such as when I provide coverage for my traditionally minded confreres), then I do it; otherwise I generally do not.
       The inconsistency reflects my divided mind about the use of elements particular to the 1962 Missal when celebrating the modern rite. On the one hand, rubrics exist to instruct the priest in what to do, not what not to do. If I do something the Missal does not call for, then I have no business complaining about other priests who do their own thing. Also, I think it’s important to avoid whatever could confuse the faithful or be construed as idiosyncratic.
       On the other hand, the practice in question, like other traditional practices (e.g., the priest genuflecting before as well as after elevating the Host and the chalice, and crossing himself with the Host and chalice before consuming the Body and Blood of Christ), are, as Fr. Timothy Finigan has argued (quoting Summorum Pontificum), part of what is “sacred and great” both for previous generations and for us; their use, even though technically unauthorized in the modern rite, is not on a par with liturgical abuses and novelties.
       Moreover, I can hardly imagine what “mutual enrichment” (which is supposed to be taking place already) looks like without the adoption of “Tridentine” elements in the usus recentior.

Fr. W.S.

Yes, I use the practice in the Novus Ordo out of sheer coherence—the gesture is not aesthetic but practical, in order to avoid particles falling.

Cardinal Brandmueller

“The Fingers that Hold God”: The Priestly Benefits of ‘Liturgical Digits’ (Part 2)

I introduced this series (Part 1) with a brief story about how, having noticed the custom of the holding together of thumb and forefinger at the traditional Mass for many years, I decided to ask a number of priests how it appeared in their eyes. The responses of 19 priests to my first question were given in the first installment. Today, we proceed to the second question and the responses.

QUESTION 2. Devotion, Nuisance, or Something Else?

If you began your priestly life celebrating only the usus recentior and later learned the usus antiquior, did learning to hold the fingers together strike you as more devout, or as a nuisance, or something else?

Fr. A.P.

It struck me as both more devout and also, at first, as a bit awkward since I had been used to celebrating the usus recentior without this gesture. But that sense quickly disappeared and I instinctively began to want to use this gesture also when celebrating the usus recentior.

Fr. B.H.

I started my priesthood saying the Novus Ordo but was taught the rubrics for it by a conservative priest superior who taught me to hold fingers together—and why. So when I started the usus antiquior a bit later that same practice then didn't really make any difference for me.

Fr. B.J.

As can be seen from the first answer, it certainly struck me as more devout. It did take a small amount of time to get used to it, but even that was not difficult, since it so powerfully confirmed what I already knew by faith.

Fr. D.C.

This is exactly my situation. I didn’t celebrate the usus antiquior until almost 10 years into my priesthood. However, from the day of my first Holy Mass, I have held my fingers together after touching the Sacred Species. I have always found it to foster devotion in myself, but also in the congregation. I in no way find it a nuisance.

Fr. D.F.

I began celebrating the Extraordinary Form after four years of celebrating only the Ordinary Form.  I did not perceive holding together my canonical digits as a nuisance in any way.  I would say that it did strike me as somewhat more devout, as, related to Question 1, I sensed a particular devotional significance in the gesture.  

Fr. D.N.

I have been a priest for seven years. The first four years I was doing the Novus Ordo. The last three years I have been doing the Traditional Latin Mass. For all of this time (in both Masses over seven years), I have kept liturgical digits. It wasn't a matter of showing people what was devout, as just a result of knowledge that crumbs could be on my fingers. As a guy once said, "You're dealing with plutonium up there." He actually got it right. Would we not follow every precaution possible with something as precious and as powerful as the physical body of the Son of God? For this reasons, it is hardly a nuisance to hold my fingers together in an act of protection.

Fr. E.W.

This was in fact the path I took— celebrating first the newer use, and then learning the older. Holding the fingers together in the older use struck me immediately as more devout.

Fr. E.P.

One who is not a priest and has not had the experience of keeping the fingers joined at the appropriate times cannot fully appreciate the difficulty that this may cause him. Try, as an example, taking your handkerchief out of your back pocket, passing your hand with its joined fingers along the way, opening the handkerchief and blowing the nose after having sneezed!

Fr. J.F.

I was ordained 17 years when I learned and began celebrating the Traditional Rite. It was not all that foreign to me. A friend of mine who was a Franciscan in his late 70’s still used canonical fingers for new Mass during the early 1980’s. Learning to turn pages and hold things without dropping them was something to get used to. Bringing greater respect and reverence to the Holy Sacrament is of utmost importance.

Fr. J.K.

The one thing that became abundantly clear when learning the Extraordinary Form was that I was not in charge. I could not pick and choose this or that option depending on my homily or my personal preference. No, here I had to conform myself to the liturgy. This was experienced both spiritually and physically. In the spiritual life, it is my hope that I can be conformed ever more to the likeness of Christ. This becomes possible in the Extraordinary Form. I never experienced it as a nuisance. I took it up readily and easily.

Fr. J.S.

As said above, from the beginning I celebrated both forms—but always with those two fingers together.

Fr. J.M.

It is clearly more devout. It can also be clumsy especially with the design of some modern ciboria. It just cannot be done with the sign of peace: which suits me just fine! Give me canonical digits over handshakes any day.

Fr. J.B.

I have from the beginning celebrated Mass according to both usages—my first Mass was in the usus antiquior, my second Mass in the usus recentior… However, I found it all three—more devout, in the sense indicated above; somewhat of a nuisance in distributing Communion from a Ciborium or when using a Missal without good tabs; and corresponding to a general greater visible and corporal mimesis in the usus antiquior than in the usus recentior.

Fr. M.K.

Never did I find it annoying or fussy.

Fr. M.C.

In our congregation we learn the “holding together” in both forms from the very beginning. It is even an internal rule to do it in both forms, always.

Fr. M.B.

I learned the usus recentior and then later learned about how to celebrate the usus antiquior. The practice of holding the fingers does strike me as devout and careful. I have held those fingers at nearly every single Mass I’ve ever said. The first 30 or so Masses I said were without this practice. The others included it. I believe that it is a catechetical tool. It gives people something to think about, it is distinctive and it begs the question: why do you do that? It gives me a chance to talk about the Real Presence, thus I like it.

Fr. P.M.

Though holding the fingers together may have been a nuisance to begin with, it quickly became a very conscious sign of the care I needed to take regarding the Host and any particle whatsoever. This consciousness has definitely affected the way I celebrate any Mass.

Fr. T.K.

The practice did not strike me as a nuisance, though it took some getting used to, especially when turning the pages of the Missal.

Fr. W.S.

It struck me as awkward at first, merely from the mechanics of the gesture; but unreservedly as a more devout and indeed as so naturally devout that I wondered how on earth the usus recentior could ever have suppressed the gesture.

St. Josemaria Escriva observing 'liturgical digits'

“The Fingers that Hold God”: The Priestly Benefits of ‘Liturgical Digits’ (Part 1)

As a liturgical theologian, I am keenly interested in the question of how little points of ceremonial have an effect on what we believe is happening at Mass. For it is not simply the text that counts as a lex orandi indicative of a lex credendi, but also, and at times more influentially, the actions—for example, the bowing of the head during the Gloria, the osculations of the altar, or the genuflections at the consecration.

Over a period years attending the usus antiquior, I found myself noticing more and more the custom of the priest holding his thumb and forefinger together from the time of the consecration until the ablutions, a practice some call ‘canonical digits’ or ‘liturgical digits.’ As an observing layman, this custom struck me as entirely fitting, given our faith in the Real Presence, and I began to wonder about the implications of its disappearance in the Novus Ordo.

Recently the idea occurred to me of surveying a number of priests to ask them how they perceive and experience this custom, since they are uniquely situated to know its benefits (or the lack thereof). The survey is all the more valuable with the growing presence of the usus antiquior in the Church and the way it is enriching day by day the celebration of the Novus Ordo, where we find the custom of ‘liturgical digits’ making a return today.

I wrote to 30 priests, and received responses from 19.

The five questions I posed to each priest were as follows:

     1. When you celebrate the usus antiquior, does the act of holding together thumb and forefinger from the consecration until the ablutions make a psychological or spiritual difference for you? If so, how would you describe it?
     2. If you began your priestly life celebrating only the usus recentior and later learned the usus antiquior, did learning to hold the fingers together strike you as more devout, or as a nuisance, or something else?
     3. Has this traditional practice affected the way you view the corresponding lack of rubric in the usus recentior? Have you considered adopting, or do you adopt, the traditional practice in the modern rite? Why or why not?
     4. In your mind, how does this practice fit into the overall “ethos” or spirit of the classical Roman liturgy?
     5. In your pastoral experience, has any layman ever commented on or asked about the holding-together of the fingers? Do you think it is noticed and has any bearing on the piety of the laity?

Over the next three weeks, on Mondays and Thursdays, I shall publish all the responses I received (they are well worth reading!), separating them into five posts according to the questions. In this way, priests are permitted to speak for themselves, in their own words.

QUESTION 1. Does This Custom Make a Difference?

When you celebrate the usus antiquior, does the act of holding together thumb and forefinger from the consecration until the ablutions make a psychological or spiritual difference for you? If so, how would you describe it?

Fr. A.P.

I will preface my response by saying that the usus antiquior as a whole constantly helps turn my attention to the adoration of Christ and His offering on Calvary and to the flow of the various prayers and intentions throughout the Mass—from the many suppliant cries of prayers such as the Confiteor and Kyrie, to the praise of the Gloria, to the supplications of the Canon, etc. Hence, as such, the many prescribed gestures of the usus antiquior are usually not at the forefront of my mind. Rather they come and go as aides to what is more essential acts of the soul.
       The holding together of thumb and forefinger has not been for me one of the more impactful gestures of the usus antiquior. Nonetheless, it is a real help. It serves as a reminder and sign that my other movements, and the movements of my heart, should be particularly reverent from the consecration until the ablutions.

Fr. B.H.

Holding the thumb and forefinger together (which I also do in celebrating the Novus Ordo, since there’s nothing forbidding it) helps in a little way to remind me and reinforce the fact that I am now holding the Lord’s Body with those fingers, and no longer just bread. But I wouldn’t call it a spiritual or psychological ‘big deal’ for me.

Fr. B.J.

God has blessed me with a strong faith in the Real Presence, and even before I had studied the usus antiquior I had a sense of awareness and concern about the particles of the Most Blessed Sacrament that result from the ordinary carrying-out of the Holy Sacrifice.
       At the Mass in which I was ordained a deacon (alone, no other ordinands), the Eucharist was “served” from a glass dish of sorts (from which hosts or particles thereof easily could have fallen, and I purified it with great care after Holy Communion; it required a rather noticeable period of time to do so, which was obviously more than local clergy and people were used to. After that Mass both the vocation director and the ordaining bishop “corrected” me on this matter, with the bishop reminding me that the purification was only a “ritual purification” and that such care was not needed in carrying it out, since a sacristan would wash everything after. (A totally incoherent position.)
       This was my introduction – and a rather painful one, at that – to the practical lack of faith on the part of the clergy in the Real Presence, which I have witnessed and experienced many times in the 11 years since then. I say “practical” because few would deny the Real Presence and most would even defend it quite eloquently. But the way they actually handle the Eucharist betrays their lack of understanding and/or belief. (This is particularly the case with how they handle the Precious Blood, the purificator, etc.—but this is the topic of another discourse.)
       Therefore, when I began to study the usus antiquior and learned about the detailed and systematic process of purification, which really leaves little room for error, and of the practicalities such as holding the consecrating digits together until purification, my faith was confirmed. And, although knowledge of the Church’s historic practice served, perhaps, to heighten my awareness of just how bad things generally can be now, and thus heightened my sense of pain, yet at the same time, it was a consolation to know that I was on the right track.
       In short, yes, the custody of the digits does make an important and positive psychological and spiritual difference for me.

Fr. D.C.

I find that it certainly makes a difference both psychologically and spiritually. Psychologically it has the effect of reminding me what I am doing and Who I am touching and holding. Spiritually, it helps deepen my faith in the Holy Eucharist. Again, it is a reminder of Who am I holding, and what I am doing. It keeps me grounded in reality, and focused on the presence of Jesus.

Fr. D.F.

For me, I would describe it primarily as a difference of logic. There is also some element of psychological and spiritual difference, as well as devotional. Primarily, however, the practice seems like the logical conclusion of the Church’s belief. Although holding together these fingers may not be an absolute necessity, it seems like a natural outgrowth of her liturgical and doctrinal development—the logical and fitting thing to do.
       Spiritually, I find that the practice has given new meaning to the ablutions (or ablution cup) for me. Even when there are no discernible particles that seem to require purification, the act of holding my fingers closed until their ablution conveys the larger spiritual truth (to both priest and people) that something out of the ordinary—something outside the natural order—has transpired in the consecration. The ablution then takes on the role not only of a practicality, but reveals itself to be also a symbolic act whereby things are set back in right order. 

Fr. D.N.

Holding together the thumb and forefinger in “liturgical digits” after the first of two consecrations costs so little mentally and has such great rewards psychologically. What I mean by the first is that after offering Mass several times, liturgical digits become pretty natural. What I mean by the second is that the knowledge that no crumbs of Our Lord’s Sacred Body will fall to the ground becomes a great reward psychologically or spiritually.

Fr. E.W.

Holding thumb and forefinger together is one of one of the differences between the two uses that most contributes to giving the older use a different “feel.” In general, the older use has a highly stylized and formalized feel. Whereas, the newer use has a more informal feel. This is also felt, for example, in the narrow limits set to the orante posture in the older use—in the newer use the rubrics are vague, but the style is a more expansive orante. The more formalized approach of the older use emphasizes the importance of what is being done, and the self-effacement necessary. In particular, the holding of thumb and finger together emphasizes the awesome, and as it were “dangerous” reality of the real presence.

Fr. E.P.

There is certainly a greater awareness, through the observance of this practice, of the reality of the divine Presence in the sacred species. It is in this way not unlike the discipline of folding one’s hands properly with fingers closed and closely joined to those of the other hand. It helps focus the mind while it binds his hands.

Fr. J.F.

I think it gives me a greater awareness of the Real Presence. The reality that every particle, visible to my eyes, is the whole Christ. Not that I did not believe this before. I have always had a deep Eucharistic spirituality. But this practice deepens it.

Fr. J.K.

The God of heaven is beyond our ability to comprehend. The universe cannot contain Him. This allows us to grasp, however imperfectly, the depth of the love that He had for us; to become so small as to enter the womb of the Virgin Mary as a child. The knowledge that the God of heaven became so tiny as to be only available to sight under a microscope, leads me to accept without question what some liberals have called crumb theology. Yes, that tiny crumb on the paten is the God of majesty who became fully what we are without ceasing to be fully His divine self.
       Our faith has everything to do with the body. All we need do is look at our religious language to see that Truth: Body of Christ, Precious Blood, Sacred Heart, and Immaculate Conception. Awareness of my own body and its participation in this mystery makes me realize that the crevices of my fingerprint might contain trace elements of the Host I have just raised in my hands.
       So yes, holding thumb and forefinger together does make a spiritual difference. Reverence for the Most Precious Body of the Lord means that I should preserve these trace elements until the ablutions are available.

Fr. J.S.

I’ve never celebrated a mass without holding thumb and forefinger together. So, while it was a conscious choice at the beginning of my priesthood due to the clearly apparent fittingness of the expression (though I might not make an “argument from fittingness” with the same strong weight that such a term carries in Thomist language, simply on account of the gesture lacking in other ancient revered rites) it is hard to say how much of a psychological and spiritual difference it makes in the daily celebration—for me as the celebrant. For it is and has been for a long time completely automated. I do not consciously dwell on the act of holding my fingers a certain way. It is second nature. The conscious attention is focused on the liturgical action as such (the prayers). The only point it is more in focus is at the time of purification, but even then the mind is fixed more on the real presence and less on the actual act of holding or releasing the fingers. I would reckon that the greatest psychological and spiritual difference can probably found in what seeing that gesture (and knowing what it means) does to the faithful.

Fr. J.M.

There is no difference, as I do the canonical digits at Novus Ordo anyway. True, it was learning the EF that led me to do this practice, which I was already familiar with by watching other young priests do it. Regardless of the form of the Mass, canonical digits is a reminder of what it is that one has touched and consequently how much reverence is due to even the smallest fragment.

Fr. J.B.

I see/experience it as a reminder of and a gesture expressing attentiveness to the presence of Christ on the altar under the sacred species, and of reverence and care for the Sacrament of the Eucharist. While it may have origins in the desire to keep particles from falling, I do not consider it on its own—in particular, apart from the act of rubbing any fragments left on the fingers after picking up the host into the chalice—a very reliable means to keep fragments from falling; so I see its character as an act of reverence deriving from its significance as a reminder of the reverence due to the eucharistic Presence in even the smallest fragment.

Fr. M.K.

Yes, it most certainly does foster an interior awareness of the immensity of the Mystery that lies before me on the corporal. It focuses and centres me in the real presence of the Christus Passus.

Fr. M.C.

It is hard to say. I’m used to hold the fingers together in both forms, after the consecration until the ablution. Thus I cannot say how I would “feel” if I did not so. For me it is such a fixed custom that it would be hard not to hold the fingers together when I touch the consecrated species. For example, if I join a celebration just for helping to distribute holy communion if there are too many faithful for one priest—some weeks ago I was in a seminary and I had to help in such a way. In this case only my right hand comes into contact with the species of bread (since the left hand holds the ciborium). In this case it takes special “effort” not to hold also the fingers of the left hand together, just intuitively! I think this is a great thing, since it highly facilitates the reverent treatment of the Blessed Sacrament.

Fr. M.B.

I do not celebrate the usus antiquior, though I have had some training in it. Thus, I cannot answer this question.

Fr. P.M.

After celebrating the Mass of blessed Paul VI for 17 years, my first experiences of holding my thumb and forefinger together seemed a bit exaggerated. It did not take long, however, before I had the real sense that I could not have that which had touched and handled the Consecrated Host touch anything else prior to their proper cleaning. Similarly, at the Qui Pridie, though I just moments earlier had the Lavabo, I consciously wipe my fingers and thumbs on the corporal, one final preparation before handling that which is to become the Sacred Species, an action that I now use in celebrating any Mass.

Fr. T.K.

I understand the reason for the practice, just as I understand the rubric that directs me to keep my hands within the bounds of the corporal while at the altar from the consecration until the ablutions. The purpose is to prevent the loss of particles of the Host that may have stuck to my thumb or forefinger; if they should fall from my thumb or forefinger, they would fall onto the corporal.

Fr. W.S.

The practice raised my alertness to a far higher level of the fact of the Real Presence and of my solitary and sublime responsibility as a priest.

Part 2 will appear on Thursdsay. Subsequent parts will be published alternately on Mondays and Thursdays.