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Email a FriendIn 2007 I did a research project on the change over from Latin to the vernacular in mass post Vatican II (only English-speaking Americans). I interviewed Catholics (some not practicing) who remember and were active in both mass types (Tridentine Rite and Novus Ordo). Of the 20-something people I interviewed, only 1 person missed the old translation. I was very surprised by this. Without over-analyzing this fact, I am 25 years old and wish I had known the Latin mass. I studied Linguistics and very much embrace liturgical languages. This is something that all major religions have in common-a liturgical language in which prayers, songs, etc. are spoken/sang. When prayers are said in a liturgical language, there is a sense of mystery and a sense of wonder. I was taught absolutely NO LATIN in catechism class-NOTHING. I am very happy about this new translation as it will bring people back to the Latin. I hope it will get discussion flowing. When I wrote my paper, now going on 4 years ago, the council of English-speaking bishops was still meeting to finish the translation. I wondered how long it was going to take!
It was very interesting to hear your point of view! I wish I could have interviewed you for my paper 4 years ago 
Old Words, New Missal
by Daria Sockey in Faith on Saturday, August 27, 2011 10:30 PM
[This article originally appeared in the summer issue of Faith & Family magazine.]
During my preschool years (the early sixties) the Mass was all in Latin. There were many differences in the prayers and in the actions of the priest and the people (e.g. the people spent lots more of the Mass kneeling down; the priest faced away from the people) The Penitential rite was longer. There were only two scripture readings on Sundays.
Not that I noticed any of this. These were the years when I spent mass fidgeting, squirming, sitting down on the kneeler, crawling under the pew, banging my head, crying, and just wishing it would be time to go home. My mother told me that at age one I would shout “doggie” whenever Fr. Luke, a heavily bearded Capuchin, appeared on the altar, but that was the limit of my participation in the pre-Vatican II liturgy.
I made my First Communion in 1967. Thanks to Sister Thomas Gerald, I’d progressed from head-banging to actually noticing what went on at Mass. By then, the Second Vatican Council encouraged the use of local languages for parts of the liturgy, so the missal began to evolve. At first it was a Latin-English mix. Then mostly English except for the Eucharistic prayers. Finally, everything was in English. The altar became free standing and the priest faced the congregation. Other changes came: certain prayers were dropped from the opening and concluding rites. Chant decreased; hymns increased.
I knew from my parents’ grumblings that they were getting a little tired of all the changes. They wanted to get used to something and then not have to get used to something else again a year later. Since my own awakening to liturgical prayer had only just begun at this time, I just went with the flow.
When Father said “The Lord Be With You” I enthusiastically answered “And with Your Spirit.”
I liked the rhythmn and drama of “through my fault, through my fault, through my most grievous fault” in the Confiteor. A combination of parroting my elders and applying my emerging reading skills enabled me to articulate “consubstantial”, “incarnate” and “only-begotten”. I didn’t know what they meant, but felt very grown up saying these Very Cool Church Words.
Fast forward to 1970. The evolving, experimental English missal, (which for me was The Mass Immemorial) was replaced that year by the New Roman Missal aka Novus Ordo aka Mass of Pope Paul VI.
Like everything that comes from Rome, the New Missal was issued in Latin. International language committees translated this Latin Missal into local languages.
On the way home from Church on that first Sunday of Advent, 1970, I joined my parents’ grumbling chorus:
“Why does the Creed say, ‘We believe” instead of “I believe’? How do I know what the guy sitting behind me really believes? I want to speak for myself.” (That was Dad.)
“They’ve taken all the poetry out of the mass. It was a more elevated type of language before. This sounds like a third grade reader.” (That was Mom.)
“And now it just says plain ‘Church’ instead of ‘holy Church’ during the Offertory. Like the Church isn’t holy anymore?” (that was 11-year-old me chiming in, proud to be part one of the Grumbling Grownups.)
But we got used to it. It was, after all still the Mass. Christ was still there.
We also learned, sometime later, that our complaint was not with the “New Mass”, but with the translation. This being the late sixties, even fusty Latin scholars had absorbed that free-n-easy, blowin’ in the wind, anti-establishment attitude that resisted anything old for no other reason than that it was old. So these translators, instead of translating the Latin literally, often paraphrased it into whatever English words struck them as more modern and relevant to the times.
Catholic laity and clergy who cared about such things spent the next thirty some years expressing their concerns about the translation with varying degrees of charity and patience. And they waited.
Things move slowly in Rome. The Bible says that to God, “A thousand ages in His sight are like an evening gone.” In imitation of the Creator, Rome took a couple of decades to prudently consider whether a new English translation was needed. And then the Bishops of the English speaking world wrestled with Rome’s answer (“Yes!”) for another decade.
But finally, we have a new translation that is more faithful to the Latin original. As such, it more clearly references both scripture and Catholic doctrine. And overall, the language has a tone of greater mystery and sacredness.
On the first Sunday of Advent, 2011, the response to “The Lord be with you.” will again be what it was meant to be: “And with your spirit.” We will again make our profession of faith as individuals (“I believe in one God.”). And we will confess having sinned, “through my fault, through my fault, through my most grievous fault.”
In some ways, it feels like I’m getting “my” mass back. But for anyone much younger, there might be some discomfort of having to learn something new. Having to abandon familiar phrases that have been written in your heart from earliest childhood, or from the time of a cherished conversion. You may feel irritated. Sort of the way I felt in 1970.
My advice to you is:
1. Give the new Missal a chance. You will get used to it, just as I got used to the current translation.
2. Learn the reasons for the changes — there are good resources for this (see resources).
3. Use this new moment in liturgical history to increase your knowledge of the mass in general, and share that knowledge with your children.If you do these things, irritation will be replaced by a sense of adventure, and hopefully, a greater appreciation for that gift from God, the holy sacrifice of the Mass.
—Senior writer Daria Sockey blogs at Coffee and Canticles.
Resources:
- USCCB
- A Guide to the New Translation of the Mass
- The Mass: The Glory, the Mystery, the Tradition
- Pauline.org
Comments
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I know it clearly defines me as one of the “young’uns,” but I had no idea that the response was originally “And with your Spirit!”
I was a language major in school (French), and thought it was incredibly beautiful to listen to the responses of the French mass when travelling through the country on different occasions…responses which included “Et avec votre Esprit,” which directly translates to “And with your Spirit.” Who knew?! Hearing the mass in another language (which I had to transliterate) unlocked a whole new meaning and understanding of what were rote prayers and responses for me in the American English mass.
Though it might be confusing and frustrating in some ways to deal with so many changes all at once, I’m hoping a different translation will have the same effect for many people; that potentially for the first time we’ll actually tune in to and understand the things we’re saying/praying during the Sacrifice of the Mass!
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