The Spirituality of the Ancient Liturgy
by Father Chad Ripperger, F.S.S.P.
- Summer 2001
First of two parts
Among liturgists and theologians,
it is generally considered true that each form of ritual embodies
a kind of spirituality which is proper to that ritual. Thus, for
example, the Eastern rites tend to emphasize the mysterious aspects
of the spiritual life as well as the role of icons in promoting devotion
to Our Lord, Our Lady and the saints. The ancient rite of Mass embodies
a spirituality and spiritual lessons that can appeal to every generation
and time. By ancient ritual is meant that rite which was codified
by St. Gregory the Great and which underwent a very slow organic
development over the course of centuries. The last missal promulgated
that enjoys that organic growth is that of 1962.
It is the common perception in the
Church today that the liturgical development of the medieval period
was, in fact, decadent and that
we must return to the apostolic and early Church period in order
to know what real liturgy is as well as God’s will regarding
the liturgy. This is, however, a fundamentally flawed notion. Aside
from the fact that modern liturgical experts (and by modern I mean
of the last 100 years or so) were not accurate in their understanding
of the liturgies of the early Church, the notion that medieval liturgical
development was somehow an aberration is really a rejection of what
was an authentic development based upon the understanding of the
Mass as sacrifice. Moreover, such figures like to harken back to
an era when the liturgy was supposedly “pristine,” by
which they usually mean that it conformed to their faulty theology
of the Mass as a meal.
The point here is not to give a
history lesson, but to explain that one of the premises on which
this essay is based is that the
ancient
rite of Mass is actually the product of the hand of God Who used
saints throughout history to develop it according to His holy
intention. The desire to reject our liturgical patrimony seems to
me to be
in fact a desire to reject those things which God has done. Insofar
as it is the work of God and the saints, the liturgy embodies
certain spiritual principles in the very nature of the ritual that
are
worthy
of reflection. Obviously, we cannot exhaust them all, so we shall
limit the discussion to four: 1) the awareness of our sinfulness,
2) the need for self-denial, 3) perfection in virtue and 4) certain
aspects about prayer. All of these are essential elements of
any sound spiritual life.
I. Awareness of Sin
The first is, again, an awareness of our own sinfulness. The
ancient rite of Mass starts with the prayers at the foot of the
altar,
which begins the Mass with the priest orienting himself to the
altar – the
altar of his youth. The altar is, of course, the place where the
sacrifice for our sins takes place, and the priest asks God to judge
his cause. Immediately, there is a clear understanding that there
are good and bad in this world. Since the Confiteor is required in
every Mass, the ancient ritual makes it clear to us that we have
sinned and the priest, and later the people, confess their sins not
only to God but also to the whole heavenly court – i.e., to
specific saints as well as to all the saints in general. The priest
himself must confess his sinfulness independently of the people,
both as an example for them and a sign that the priest needs to be
keenly aware of his own personal sinfulness. The priest asks to be
washed and forgiven repeatedly throughout the ritual in order to
foster a sense of humility and unworthiness before God to perform
the function that belongs to him. No priest who takes the prayers
seriously can be overcome with pride. As the priest ascends to the
altar, he asks for the sins of the people to be taken away and then
as he reverences the altar he asks specifically that all his sins
be pardoned.
There is of course the Kyrie, which
is an appeal for God’s
mercy, and before the Gospel the priest asks again that his heart
and lips be cleansed. Aside from the Confiteor, perhaps the most
notable recollection for the priest for his sins is contained in
the offertory prayer Suscipe, sancte Pater. The priest says during
this prayer that he offers the spotless Host to “atone for
my innumerable sins, offenses, and negligences.”
It is necessary for the priest to
remind himself constantly of his sinfulness and his proclivity to
evil so that he will be
motivated to root the sin out of his life. It is also necessary
for the priest
to do this so that he recognizes his unworthiness to offer the
sacrifice
and the need to strive for purity and holiness in order to offer
it worthily. Since the first step toward sanctified perfection
is to be aware of and admit to one’s own sinfulness, these prayers
are highly important for the spiritual lives of priests. None of
us who are aware of the scandals and sins associated with priests
over the past forty years should desire that these prayers be taken
out of the offertory or Mass. The laity must desire that the priest
be sinless, and one of the ways that is facilitated is by recognizing
in the prayers at Mass that he is offering this sacrifice not only
for the people but also for himself. If a priest has a sensitive
conscience and knows that he must remain pure for the sake of offering
the sacrifice, then he merits more graces from God for the people.
Today people say that as long as the Mass is valid, the state of
the priest does not really matter. While it is true that a priest
does not have to be in the state of grace to offer the Mass validly,
nevertheless, he has an obligation to be as holy as possible in order
to merit more for those under his pastoral care.
There are of course two kinds of
merit in the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass. The first is Our Lord’s own Sacrifice in which, by the
hands of the priest, He is offered to God the Father in expiation
for our sins. Here we are referring to the fact that the Mass is
the participation in the Sacrifice of Calvary and the merit flowing
from this Sacrifice is infinite since That Which is offered is Infinite.
But in addition to this essential or primary merit, there is a secondary
merit that flows from three things: (1) the holiness of the priest,
(2) the holiness of the people who join their own particular sacrifices
to the Sacrifice of the priest and (3) the ritual itself. In order
for us to gain more fruits from the Mass, we must do everything we
can to aid the priest in being holy, e.g., by offering our prayers
and mortifications for him so that he will obtain a holiness of life.
But this is possible only when the priest is constantly reminded
of his ability to fall into sin if he does not rely on the grace
of God. It does not help us to ignore this reality and remove it
from the ritual. Rather, the awareness of our sinfulness is absolutely
necessary for our spiritual advancement, and the ancient ritual is
not lacking in this regard.
The word culture comes from the
Latin word “cultus.” While
our subject does not allow us to go too far into the discussion,
we should be aware of the fact that the cult – that is, the
liturgy or rituals of the predominant religion – actually determines
the culture of the society. We have seen this historically during
the Protestant revolts and we have even seen it in our own lifetimes:
when the Church changed the ritual of the Mass, the Catholic subculture
in this nation collapsed. The point here is that if we want to transform
our culture, we must have a ritual that possesses a keen awareness
of our sinfulness; if we expect our society to have an awareness
of sin, the priest when he approaches the altar must have a sense
of his sinfulness. Since all graces come into the world by means
of the Catholic Church, if our ritual is deficient, then perhaps
we are cheating the world of the graces that the ritual we offer
is meant to convey.
II. Self Denial, Detachment and Mortification
The second spiritual aspect of the ancient ritual that is manifest
in a number of ways in the old rite is the sense of self-denial
and mortification. One of the clearest manifestations of this
self-denial is the old rite’s silence. When we meet someone who has the
vice of loquacity, of talking too much, it is usually because the
person is full of himself. It is a fact of human nature that any
time we do something that is in accord with our physical dispositions,
we get a certain pleasure from it. People often speak of being in
the “mood” for certain things and not others, and when
they get the thing that corresponds to their mood, they experience
a certain pleasure in it. Talking is much the same way: the appetites
can become attached to talking, and this is precisely what the old
rite militates against. By requiring the silence of the people, it
provides an opportunity for the appetitive desire to talk to be stripped
from those in attendance.
I have had many discussions with
laity who come to the old rite for the first time and they often
find an appetitive revulsion
to the
ritual because of the silence. They do not express it exactly
that way, of course, but as they talk it becomes clear that they
do
not like the fact that they are not being talked at and not doing
some
of the talking themselves. St. John of the Cross used to say
that before he would enter into mystical contemplation his “house,” as
he called himself, became all quiet; and by this he meant that all
of his appetites and faculties had quieted down. This is a sign to
us that we must be quiet, we must be stripped of self in order to
ascend the heights of perfection, and the old Mass aids that understanding.
Moreover, it teaches us that we do not have to be the center of attention
by talking in order for the ritual to have a deeper meaning and significance.
The old ritual also fosters a sense
of detachment on the side of the priest and the people because the
ritual is completely
determined
by Holy Mother the Church. We see in the Old Testament that God
gave very detailed instructions on how He was to be worshiped.
This is
key in understanding the liturgy in two ways. The first is that
the liturgy is not our action, it is the action of God by means
of the
priest; it is not something we do, it is essentially something
God does, for the consecration cannot take place without God
Who is the
first cause of the Sacrifice. The second way is that it is God,
and not ourselves, Who determines how we will worship Him. This
has been
one of the most notable failings in modern times: a desire to
determine for ourselves how we will worship God. It is erroneous
because
it is up to God to tell us the type of worship that pleases or
displeases
Him and, therefore, only He should be the one to determine the
ritual. It was mentioned earlier that God had fashioned the liturgy
over
the course of time through the saints, who were filled with love
of God – everything they did came from Him and led back to
Him. The old rite teaches us the important spiritual lesson that
if we are going to be holy and pleasing to God, then our task is
to conform to the liturgy and not make the liturgy something of our
own doing or make it conform to us.
Furthermore, since it is God who
must determine the ritual, we learn that the Mass is not about us
but about God. We are only
a secondary
aspect of the rite. This is made clear in the ancient ritual
in that control over the liturgy is taken away from us, and we
thereby
recognize
that it is not about us. While our desire is to benefit from
the Mass, our benefit ultimately must be referred back to God;
that
is to say, we become holy because it gives God greater glory.
So even
the aspects that affect us are ultimately about God.
The traditional rite, by determining
how the ritual is to be done, provides two important spiritual benefits
for the priest.
The first
is peace, for he can go and conform himself to the will of God
by following the rubrics of the Mass since they are predetermined;
as
a priest I cannot say what a great sense of freedom this gives.
He does not have to fret over what he will choose and say because
he
is worried about what the congregation may think. He does not
have to listen to a liturgical committee trying to tell him what
to
do. The second is that it teaches the priest self-denial and
sometimes mortification when the ritual is out of his hands.
The Mass is
not
about the priest; it does not have to be sustained by his personality.
Obviously only a priest can offer the Mass, but he can lose and
forget himself when the whole ritual is determined by the Church,
which
is the Vox Dei, the Voice of God. It makes it possible for him
to forget himself and everything else so that he can perfectly
enter
into the mystery and the sacred realities present, and thereby
derive the greatest benefit from them. In a most perfect fashion,
he acts
in persona Christi – in the person of Christ – because
his own personality is minimized and he can become more like Christ.
Since he says Mass facing God and not the people, his own personality,
or lack thereof, is not what sustains the ritual. He is able to let
his own personality fade into the background so that he can concentrate
fully on attending to God. Here when we talk of service, the priest
serves God first and foremost. Too often when the term “service” is
used in conjunction with the priesthood, it usually means some type
of social service, rather than its real meaning of service to God.
The old Mass has only two kinds
of options, both of which are heavily regulated. The first is that
on certain days, according
to certain
conditions, votive Masses can be said; but that is something
exterior to the ritual. The second is that under certain circumstances
and
on certain days, predetermined optional prayers may be added
to the propers, e.g., to pray for rain, for peace, or something
of
this
sort. But these are heavily regulated so that the priest understands
that while he may choose to do them, when and how are not entirely
up to him. The point is that options within the ritual should
be minimized in order to foster obedience to superiors, self-denial
and the reduction of self-will, all of which are necessary to
the
spiritual life. If many options are allowed, it actually militates
against the priest’s self-denial and it fosters self-will,
since the ritual becomes subject to his choice. It also leaves him
with the impression that the liturgy is really his doing rather than
an action performed by God through him.
Lack of options teaches the priest
detachment and it also teaches the laity self-denial because they
know they cannot try to manipulate
the priest to do in the liturgy what they want, since it is out
of his hands. Detachment is key to any discussion of the liturgy
and
any sound spiritual life. Modern man has lost all detachment
regarding the liturgy and he is constantly subjecting it to his
appetites.
But we need detachment, and any discussion of liturgical restoration
requires that people first detach themselves from what they want
so that they can know what God wants. Furthermore, the multitude
of options and lack of detachment in the liturgy has led to a
type of Immanentism. Immanentism is a philosophy or notion which
holds
that everything of importance is about us and comes from us.
If it is not from us, then it has no meaning or significance.
Immanentism
comes from the two Latin words in and manere which mean to remain
in. Since man is incapable of reaching the heavens on his own
(Babel and the Pelagian heresies have clearly demonstrated that),
the
liturgy
must be from God and about God in order to draw us out of ourselves
and to foster any sense of the transcendent, the striving for
which is deeply rooted in the heart of man.
The ancient liturgy also provides
a depth to one’s spiritual
life for three reasons. The first is that it takes us out of ourselves
and brings us to God; if we remain in ourselves and if we fashion
a liturgy that is at our whim and ultimately about us, then we are
doomed to shallowness and superficiality. Rather, insofar as the
liturgy is out of our hands, we recognize that it is beyond us, it
is mysterious, and insofar as it is about God, it can forever be
contemplated. The second is that it is founded on tradition. Tradition
provides a mechanism in which man can abandon himself to God who
fashions the tradition rather than taking control of it himself and
jettisoning the tradition. In other words, tradition provides a mechanism
by which the spiritual and liturgical patrimony of the saints can
be given to each generation, who can use it to their spiritual benefit.
Like someone who does not know his historical roots and therefore
does not know himself, modern man has chosen to reject liturgical
tradition and replace it with himself, only to be lost in self and
never truly to understand himself. Tradition provides a way for the
young to ground themselves in the wisdom of the past. This applies
not only to cultural things but to the liturgy and the spiritual
life as well.
The third thing that the ancient
liturgy provides is repetition. Now modern man has rejected repetition
because he has a fixation
on novelty. Novelty, of course, gives our appetites delight but
does not necessarily indicate depth. To enter into something
in depth
requires time and repeated considerations of a thing. Repetitio
mater discendi, as we say in Latin: repetition is the mother
of learning.
This principle applies not only to learning but to our spiritual
lives as well. By repeating a prayer, its meaning becomes more
known to us and therefore is able to be entered into more perfectly
and
with greater depth. Since the ancient rite allows not for novelty
but repetition, it provides a way in which people can focus on
the mysteries present rather than the new things that are constantly
popping up. With the silence quieting our faculties and the repetition
that characterize each Mass, we are able to participate in and
enter
more perfectly into the mysteries of the Mass. Too often participation
is equated with physical activity rather than the higher and
more active form of participation which is spiritual participation.
Fr. Chad Ripperger, F.S.S.P.,
is a professor at St. Gregory’s
diocesan minor seminary and Our Lady of Guadalupe seminary,
both in Nebraska.