A Reverent Ordinary Form Mass

I headed out of town early this morning to try to make it to confession at St. Norbert's in Roxbury. St. Norbert's is a parish staffed with priests from the Society of Jesus Christ the Priest, a Spanish society which celebrates both the ordinary and extraordinary forms of the mass. There's been a lot of controversy in the Diocese of Madison because Bishop Morlino brought these priests in to several parishes, where they proceeded to get rid of altar girls and lay eucharistic ministers, institute an extraordinary form mass, and insist on such backwards and reactionary concepts as the intrinsic evil of contraception, the teaching that one must be in the state of grace to receive communion, and the idea that we actually do have souls that actually do need saving. The biggest complaint against them seems to be that, because they emphasize Catholic teaching, they are "short on compassion." (It's never fun to have someone tell us that our behavior is wrong, is it?)

Anyway, I've been to the daily extraordinary form mass at St. Norbert's many times. Not as often as I should, though, because St. Norbert's is 35 to 40 minutes away and the mass is at 6:30 in the morning. This morning I took the lazy route, and rather than go to mass and then wait until confessions afterwards, I left late in order just to make it to confessions. Unfortunately, there had been a schedule change, and the 8:00 ordinary form mass had been moved forward to 7:30, just after I arrived. Confessions were either canceled or moved earlier, too; anyway, I got there too late. But since mass was starting I decided to stay. I knew that the priest would say a very reverent mass, and I was curious to see what the ordinary form was like when it was said by such good priests. Also, I didn't want to pass up a chance to receive communion.

It was, by far, the most reverent ordinary form mass that I have ever been to. The priest came out in traditional vestments and spoke the English (the new translation, thank goodness!) simply and clearly and without trying to "perform" it. There was no terrible folk music, and there were no lay ministers and no one batted an eyelash when I knelt for communion with my hands tucked beneath the rail. It was a marked contrast to the other ordinary form masses I have been to (one of which I came away from sincerely doubting that I had really received Our Lord in communion). But it still struck me as being watered down, a "lite" version of what it should be.

To explain why, I think I'll have to describe the extraordinary form first so I can contrast it. In the extraordinary form, the priest and the congregation face the same direction, towards the altar. The priest leads the congregation in the sacrifice of the mass, offering to the Father the once-for-all sacrifice of Calvary which is made present again on the altar. The congregation joins itself to the sacrifice. It is at once a communal act — we are united in offering Christ to His Father — and a deeply intimate, individual, prayerful one. It is difficult to describe the feeling. There is a peaceful solemnity as the priest speaks directly to God in quiet Latin. We follow along with these prayers and join ourselves to them. The focus is on God. We know that we are dealing with the profound, with something, someone infinitely higher than ourselves. It is not a belittling feeling, because we know that God is condescending to lower Himself to us, and is encouraging us to raise ourselves toward Him. The atmosphere is one of humility and hope, of wonder and a deep sense of connection to the Divine. It becomes an intensely personal and intimate union between creature and Creator, reaching is peak when we receive Him, Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity, in communion.

In the ordinary form, the sacrifice is still there, and Jesus is still truly present in the Eucharist. But the mass seems to want to turn our attention away from that. The priest faces the congregation, and everything he says is spoken loudly and directed towards us. There are many points where the congregation speaks a response. It begins to feel more like the priest is speaking to us than to God.

My impression is that the ordinary form demands less of me. The extraordinary form requires that I pay attention, that I follow along in my missal with what the priest is doing, and that I make the effort to participate through prayer in the sacrifice being enacted. The ordinary forms asks me only to sit back and listen, and to respond when necessary. Listen-and-respond strikes me as more passive than follow-along-and-pray. 

The communal aspect of the extraordinary form is one of being united in doing something. The communal aspect of the ordinary form feels more like "we are united to, well, be united." The focus is more on our communal union itself than on why that union exists. My attempts to reach a place of intimate, personal conversation with God was foiled by the many interruptions where I was expected to speak a response along with the rest of the congregation; there was never a period of quiet prayer and contemplation. I felt less like I had participated in the sacrifice of the mass and more like I had attended some kind of social prayer meeting. It is rather ironic that the very things meant to encourage active participation in the mass — the priest facing the people and more congregational responses — diminished my feeling of participation.

I think that when we hear about the importance of active participation it is important to ask, what are we participating in? If it is a gathering, a meal, then sure, we'd want everyone to be facing everyone else and everyone talking. But if it's a sacrifice, a prayer, then we want to be focused on God and on the sacrificial reality being enacted. The participation then is the union of each person to this sacrifice, and the communal aspect is all the prayers of all these souls rising together to God. I always feel deeply engaged and an active participant in the extraordinary form mass, even if I never say a word from the time I enter the church until I leave it. I have yet to feel that way in an ordinary form mass.

One more thing. All the times I've been to the extraordinary form daily mass at St. Norbert's, there have been many young people there, including many young families. It has always been inspiring to see the young mothers and their children kneeling in quiet prayer at 6:30 in the morning. Young single people attend as well. At the ordinary form mass — which, remember, is usually celebrated at 8:00, not 6:30 — there was only one person there besides me who was younger than fifty, and there were less people there overall than I am used to seeing at the extraordinary form mass. I think young Catholics, at least those who care about their Faith, are more attracted to the traditional ways of the Church.

Young Catholics today tend to do one of two things: lose the faith, or become more traditional. Those young Catholics who disagree with Church teachings don't see any reason to remain Catholic. Why would they stay in a Church that they see as behind the times, oppressive, patriarchal, homophobic, and all the other epithets tossed around these days? They lack whatever lingering brand loyalty or sentimental attachment keeps their parents showing up every Sunday despite ignoring and even actively dissenting from the teachings of the Church. But those young Catholics who see the Church as the means which Christ established to guide and nourish souls want their tea a bit stronger. They are not satisfied with a watered down Catholicism which tries to hide itself and speaks no thing clearly. They want a Catholicism that presents the reality which it possesses as clearly and truthfully as possible. They don't want to be coddled, to have their consciences assuaged, or to have the sacrifice of the mass reduced to a community get-together. They want all the spiritual riches that the Church has to offer. They want their Catholic identity to mean something again.