Paix liturgique

As we saw in our Letter 1370, ( Lien ) divine worship is directed first and foremost to God. The sacred liturgy is, above all, worship offered to God. But this worship is, of course, carried out for the benefit of the universal Church, in accordance with St. Paul’s words: “All things work together for good for those who love God! ” (Rom 8:28). Pope Benedict XVI had, in fact, recalled this during his homily on the Esplanade des Invalides in Paris in September 2008: “A single Mass can save the world” The liturgy, insofar as it is meant to be the language of Heaven, brings with it a procession of graces: by glorifying God, it contributes to peace on earth. This peace and these blessings have an inevitable missionary aspect for us, who are pilgrims toward eternity.

In this regard, more than ever, we can say without reservation that the Vetus Ordo offers a liturgical framework that is highly beneficial for souls. The traditional liturgy indeed unfolds before the eyes of the faithful an extremely reassuring set of practices, deeply rooted in the spiritual experience of the Church. The traditional liturgy offers a pedagogical corpus of stunning relevance, drawn from its wisdom and knowledge of souls accumulated over the centuries. The Tridentine Rite, in this sense, is not merely a worship service addressed to God, but a true sending forth on mission for the faithful. A sending forth on a mission to convert one’s soul. But also to communicate to others this inner transformation suggested by the essence of the traditional liturgy.

In a world filled with uncertainty and a marked loss of moral compass (the value of life, the role of authority, a sense of responsibility, respect for the sacred, etc.), the traditional ecosystem proves to be more missionary than ever.

What, then, is the pastoral reality of places of worship where the Tridentine Mass is celebrated? What do we observe in the churches or chapels where the ancient liturgy is celebrated? Let us cite a few examples that the faithful themselves use to testify to what fulfills them in the Vetus Ordo.

The sacristy. “Show me the sacristy of your parish, and I will tell you what kind of parish you are.” Places of worship where the Tridentine rite is celebrated are most often distinguished by a lively, well-kept, and orderly sacristy. The importance given to worship in the traditional liturgy demands this rigor. Moreover, traditional liturgical teaching reminds us that every ceremony begins in the sacristy, a special place intended to be the antechamber of Heaven.

The Mass service. An atmosphere of respect surrounds the young people who have the honor of approaching the altar and serving the liturgy. Their attire, their gestures, their attentiveness: their entire demeanor must convey to the layperson entering the church at Mass time that something is happening here that is by no means trivial. The Mass service seeks to represent the liturgy of Heaven. Of course, this reality can be found in places where the new liturgy is celebrated. But allow me to offer this nuance: the culture of liturgical care and esteem for those who serve at Mass is integral to the spirit of the Vetus Ordo. Moreover, since the liturgical setting is more elaborate in the Vetus Ordo, the presence of a Mass service proves indispensable.

The Confiteor. The recitation of the Confiteor by the priest alone: what a lesson for the faithful! The principal minister of the Mass sets the example. He who is about to consecrate the host of bread into the Body of Christ, even before ascending to the altar, bears witness to his neediness and smallness by reciting the Confiteor, alone, first, before all, without worldly affectation but in a distinct and clear manner.

Gregorian chant. Sacred chant, with the various Gregorian Kyriale distributed throughout the liturgical seasons, lends a wonderful richness to the traditional liturgy. Each one instructs the faithful and carries their prayer. The melodies of Advent are not those of the season after Pentecost; the Alleluia is replaced by the Tract beginning with Septuagesima; the Vidi Aquam supplants the Asperges Me during Eastertide… One can never sufficiently praise the virtues of this musical arrangement throughout the liturgical cycle specific to the Missal of St. Pius V. This melodious care taken in worship instills in souls a desire to elevate themselves for God and their neighbor—a desire that would be wrong to underestimate.

The pulpit. We faithful know this well: sermons, alas, can vary in length and in value. Nevertheless, preaching from the pulpit (where they still exist!) is, in itself, a symbol. Showing the way to heaven: this quintessentially Tridentine mission of the priest is certainly meant to be conveyed to the faithful through the ancient liturgy, but above all, it is meant to remind the priests themselves so that they do not shirk their mission. Ascending the pulpit is not a matter of spectacle. It places the greatest demands on the preacher. He stands above the congregation to better show them the way to Heaven. This image of the priest in the pulpit, in the style of Don Camillo, is what speaks to the faithful!

Orientation toward God. Orientation toward God, ad orientem, is certainly (along with the abandonment of Latin) one of the most explicit aspects of the liturgical reform and of the psychological shift that this change has brought about among the faithful. The shift from “we are all turned toward God” to “we look at one another, we face one another” is not relative. In the traditional liturgy, the priest’s orientation also has a missionary value. The faithful know they are being led in a wake. The celebrant, like a bridgehead or a captain leading the charge, stands in the front row to lead the flock that follows him. A significant expression of this orientation toward God is the “Orate Fratres” prayer. When, before entering the heart of the Mass, before reciting the canon in a low voice, the priest turns toward the faithful to say “Orate Fratres,” he actually conveys a profound message through his posture. In the traditional Mass, to say “Orate Fratres” facing the faithful, the celebrant must therefore turn around, slowly make a full turn on his axis, spreading his arms and then closing them, before turning his back to the faithful and facing God. This solemn and precise gesture of the priest suggests the following thought to the faithful: “Here it is, the hour has come for my priest! He is about to enter the very heart of the Mass. Now silence will fall. The time has come for him to present to God all the intentions of the Church and our own. But above all, the time has come for him to take his place as Christ the Priest. Ah, he goes forth alone into this battle of prayer. He will carry upon his poor man’s shoulders the very intentions of Christ the Priest. My God, how overwhelming! So yes, my priest, I will pray for you. The hour has come! Be strong; we are behind you!”

We could, of course, continue this list in many areas, such as the priest distributing Communion to the faithful, who kneel as they approach the communion rail. This perceptible separation between the nave and the sanctuary holds great educational value. Gustave Thibon spoke of the tragedy of modern society, which would have us believe that one can enter anywhere without a threshold.

What Tom Hanks said about life in the movie Forrest Gump could also be said of the reformed liturgy: “The new Mass is like a box of chocolates; you never know what you’re going to get.”

Conversely, the traditional liturgy exudes a missionary certainty in that it reassures through its… confidence. A doctrinal, aesthetic, and vertical self-assurance that has proven itself over the centuries. Its ambition has not changed: it remains focused on the worship of God and rejects any spirit of creativity. The latter, while it may, of course, be imbued with good intentions, is nonetheless deprived of the guarantee of being preserved from all corruption. Corruption of self-love, corruption of the pursuit of sensationalism, or, worse, corruption of doctrinal deviations. The traditional liturgy, through its solemnity, its precision, and the spirit of adoration and theocentrism that underlies it, stands as a beacon in the storm. All of this makes it more missionary than ever in times of turmoil.

And in that regard, she has a bright future ahead of her.