Latin in the Mass: Part 1

(My Latin Mass community, December 2014)

Since the 3rd century A.D. and up until the year 1965, the Mass was said in Latin. For the first 300 years in the history of the Church, much of the Mass was said in Greek, but for the almost 1600 years following, the Mass was in Latin. And yet, during this time, the Church grew explosively. Interestingly, today, many people balk at the idea of hearing the Mass in Latin. When I invite people to the Latin Mass, they usually say, “It’s in a language I don’t understand!” Although I am a young Catholic who does not speak Latin as a first language, and who understands very little of it, I tend to view the Traditional Latin Mass in a different light.

Many Masses are said all over the world in many different languages. Not everyone in all those Masses understands the languages being used, but, they still feel blessed, they still know the actions at Mass--what is happening at Mass. For example, on Guam, Chamorro is spoken even though not all people on Guam understand it. In fact, most people on Guam speak English. If someone from Korea or Vietnam or other parts of Micronesia goes to a Mass that is said in English, is it less of a Mass for them? Even native English speakers--do they understand everything that goes on in an English Mass? This is why the celebrant explains the Mass and Church teachings in their sermons, which is what our Traditional Latin Mass priests do for us.

As a matter of fact, when all the Masses were in Latin, it created a unifying experience. Latin is the language of the universal Church, the Catholic Church. In Guam, right now, people who are concerned about cultural identity are scrambling to teach young Guamanians to speak Chamorro. Why is language so important to this effort to re-establish cultural identity? Well, one of the reasons is that language often nurtures unity. “One island. One people.” I think I saw that on a billboard in Yona somewhere. Unity helps a people and its culture to not only survive, but to thrive. It keeps reality from turning into memory and then into myth. If unity is so terribly important to a small island in the South Pacific, it seems that it should be just as important to the one, universal Church.

I’m an experienced “Latin Masser” now, but that was not always the case. I remember saying the Mass in English as a child. Even today, since Latin Masses are extremely limited, I often go to Masses that are said in English. I’ve come to realize, however, that when you experience the Latin Mass, you experience something peculiar. I’ve heard people express this peculiarity in different ways. “I thought I was in pre-War Agana,” someone once told me after his first Latin Mass just a few months ago. Another friend said she felt like she’d been transported back to ancient times. Those were interesting comments because the popes and the saints themselves have talked about how the tradition of the Mass keeps us in touch with our Catholic roots: it keeps us in touch with saints of the distant past, with the Early Church, with the Last Supper itself because of the manner in which it is said, because of the formula we now call “traditional”. The Latin Mass I attend is the Mass of the young Karol Wojtyla, of St. Padre Pio, of St. Thomas Moore, of St. Francis, of St. Anthony... There isn’t a single saint in the book who did not experience the Latin Mass. The Latin in the Mass is timeless and unchanging while vernacular languages are always changing with time. Latin links us with our Catholic heritage while the vernacular severs us from it. Somehow, I can’t imagine myself shouting, as  Bl. Pier Giorgio Frassati did, “Yes! He is the King of Kings!” after experiencing a Mass that was said in colloquial Italian instead of archaic Latin--Which brings me to another point...

...Stay tuned for part 2!