Chapter 3: Latin

Chapter 3 of Dr Edward Schaeffer's new book, A Simple Man’s Case for Tradition, written for the average Catholic in the pew, not a professional "liturgist".

From One Peter Five

By Edward Schaeffer, PhD

Editor’s note: we continue our weekly serialisation of Dr. Edward Schaefer’s new book A Simple Man’s Case for Tradition. This book is an excellent introduction to Traditionalism and provides an easy way for Trads to introduce the movement to fellow Catholics who are seeking deeper answers to today’s questions. Proceeds from the book sale also help promote the Collegium Sanctorum Angelorum, one of only two traditional Catholic colleges in the United States.

Read the Introduction
Read Chapter 1: Equally Valid and Holy
Read Chapter 2: the New Mass

Perhaps the most common argument against the use of Latin in the liturgy is, “I can’t understand what’s going on.” The truth is that even when the Mass is celebrated in the vernacular, we cannot understand what is happening.  The miracle of Calvary being made present: the Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity of the sacrificed Christ being made present through the consecrated hands of the priest, is a miracle that we cannot fully understand no matter what language is used.  However, the use of Latin can help us enter into this mystery a bit more fully.  Some reasons follow.

Mystery

The confection of the Eucharist is essential to the celebration of the Mass. The substance of the Eucharist is the bread and wine, which become the Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity of Jesus at the words of consecration, with the perceptible characteristics of bread and wine remaining as accidents.

At the same time, in another sense, we surround this mystery, this wondrous Sacrament, with many other accidents that help us, through our senses, to appreciate, if not fully understand, the essence of this great mystery.  That is to say that we surround this Sacrament with many things that help us to appreciate its profound holiness.  We use special vestments, special music, incense, carefully orchestrated actions or rubrics, readings from holy Scripture, a special rite (the Offertory) to set the bread and wine apart from secular use, and special art and architecture.  In addition to these, we use a special language, Latin, a mysterious language that points us to the mystery of the Sacrament.

Sacred Language

Related to this, Latin is not just any language.  It is a sacred language.  It is one of the three languages with which the words “Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews” were nailed to the Cross.  It is a language that is not used, typically, for everyday speech.[1]  Indeed, the Latin of the Mass was never the language of everyday speech.  In the early Church,

in the East, Greek was predominantly used because whereas it was the first language of few people, it was a second language for many people. Its use could symbolize the internationality of the Church, but more practically, it made it possible for as many people as possible to follow along, if not understand every word. Interestingly enough, Greek predominated in Rome itself, because its heavily international population didn’t all speak Latin. By contrast, in North Africa, Latin seems to have been the predominant language almost immediately. Outside of Egypt, Latin was the language of international affairs in North Africa because of its extensive colonization and coordination by Roman authorities. This was also the case in Spain, Britain, and non-Mediterranean France, other regions little influenced by the Greeks. When it was evangelized, Ireland experienced the Mass in Latin.[2]

In the ninth century, permission was given by the Church to translate the Mass and related texts (such as the scripture) into what is now called Old Church Slavonic. At the time, it was a dated but not quite defunct legal and ceremonial language used in Slavic regions, essentially a mother language to the languages they were speaking at the time. The idea was the same – a single liturgical language for a broad swath of country and for many nations, not exactly native to any of them, but not entirely foreign, either.[3]

Additionally, Franciscan missionaries to the Mongols were given permission to translate the liturgical rites and the sacred scripture into their language in the 13th or 14th century, provided that the most noble and poetic version of the language be used.

So long answer shortened: Latin was in use in the early Church but, ironically enough, not in the region of Latin’s origin. The Church’s primary concern was not exactly just that the Mass should be accessible. She was also concerned that the Mass should be transnational.[4]

Along similar lines, others remark that the Latin of the earliest liturgies was purposefully not the commonly spoken Latin, but a language that was drawn toward a particularly sacred “dialect.” George Kennedy remarks that “the development of a linguistic sacrality with its own power began in the Church as early as the reception of the Septuagint.”[5]  Christine Mohrmann, a patristic language scholar, “describes the whole of the earliest eucharistic terminology in Greek as ‘deliberately isolated from the language of everyday life.’”[6]

Looking at Latin as a sacred language from a more practical rather than historical perspective, Giordano Cuatto, professor of Latin at The Collegium, makes a poignant comment about the exclusive nature and purpose of a sacred language when he comments, “I have never profaned in Latin.”[7]

Theologically Complete, Concise and Accurate

As Latin developed, it became, in the Medieval period, a language that could express theological concepts fully, accurately, and concisely, which is a desirable attribute when discussing dogmatic aspects of the faith.  Here is one small example.

The Canon of the Mass begins

Te igitur, clementissime Pater, per Jesum Christum, Filium tuum, Dominum nostrum, supplices rogamus ac petimus uti accepta habeas et benedicas haec dona, haec munera, haec sancta sacrificia illibata…

Therefore, to Thee, O most merciful Father, we beg and beseech Thee, through Jesus Christ, Thy Son, our Lord, that Thou mayest accept and bless, these gifts, these munera, these holy unblemished sacrifices…

The word “munera” can be a synonym for “dona” and translated as “gifts” or “presents,” However, the word also has the meaning of an “office, work, service, or duty,”[8] in particular a duty that implies a burden.  Thus, here in this one word, we see the Sacrifice of Calvary as not just a “gift,” but also the great “work” of Christ done “dutifully” out of obedience to His Father through the great “burden” of the Cross for our salvation.  It is a profound concept portrayed completely yet concisely in a single word.

Also, the Baltimore Catechism affirms the use of Latin as a language of theological clarity:

The Church uses the Latin language instead of the national language of its children: (1) To avoid the danger of changing any part of its teaching in using different languages; (2) That all its rulers may be perfectly united and understood in their communications.[9]

Less Likelihood of Error

Every time the text of the Mass or other rite or dogmatic document is translated into a language different from the official Latin, the challenge to produce a readable, understandable, and accurate translation is considerable.  Immediately following the Council, a principle of “dynamic equivalency” was implemented, in which the texts were translated to be readable in simple English.  In this process, however, many errors were created. For example, here are the words of consecration at Mass for the wine in Latin, along with a literal translation:

Hic est enim calix sanguinis mei, novi et aeterni testamenti: mysterium fidei: qui pro vobis et pro multis effundetur in remissionem peccatorum.

For this is the cup of My blood, the new and eternal testament: the mystery of faith, which for you and for many shall be shed (poured out) for the remission of sins.

However, for many years following the Council, the words “pro vobis et pro multis” were translated into English as “for you and for all.” Admittedly, this may not be an exact example of dynamic equivalency because “pro multis” translates easily and smoothly into “for many.”  It may have been an attempt to tweak the consecration to be more “inclusive.”

Regardless, the result was an incorrect translation, a shift in theology, and possibly the invalidation of all the Masses in which words (the form) that were not a correct translation of the Latin were used. Had the Latin been retained, none of this would have happened.

Beauty

Latin is not just a theologically accurate language, it is a beautiful language, and much of the Mass has an almost poetic quality.  For example, after the Gospel is read, the priest kisses the book and says,

Per evangelica dicta
deleantur nostra delicta.

Through the reading of the Gospel
may our sins be blotted out.

The translation above renders the meaning of the words, but the rhymed couplet of the Latin gives the text and the action of forgiveness a beauty that is lost in the translation.  We can hear and even see the relationship between the speaking, the “dicta,” and the forgiving, the “delicta.”

There are also many grammatical constructions in Latin that don’t exist in English but that give the language another dimension of beauty.  For example, here is one of the Collects for Masses in honor of the Blessed Virgin:

Concede nos famulus tuos, quaesumus, Domine Deus, perpetua mentis et corporis sanitate gaudere, et gloriosa beatae Mariae semper Virginis intercessione, a praesenti liberari tristitia, et aeterna perfrui laetitia.

Grant Thou to us Thy servants, O Lord God, to rejoice in perpetual health of soul and body, and through the glorious intercession of blessed Mary ever Virgin, to be freed from present sorrows and to enjoy eternal gladness.

The phrase “perpetua mentis et corporis sanitate” arranges the words in a way that is different from how we would say them in English.  In English we would connect “perpetua” and “sanitate” to render “in perpetual health,” but the Latin splits these words and uses them to surround their objects, “mentis et corporis,” “of soul and body.”  It’s called chiastic structure, and it’s derived from classical usage.  So, on the one hand, it gives the language a sense of antiquity, but more to the point it’s a beautiful way of creating emphasis that we don’t have in English.

Also, the conclusion of the collect gives the objects of Mary’s powerful intercession a rhymed, lyric beauty:

a praesenti liberari tristitia
aeterna prefrui laetitia.

Our Language

You might be tempted to say, “All of that is good, but I don’t know Latin, and I cannot appreciate these ‘niceties.’”  

When I was a young boy, every Christmas we would travel to mein grossmütter’s house. It was a large family gathering, and at some point, we would all sit in the living room and sing Christmas carols, many of which would be in German.  I had no idea what “O Tannenbaum” meant, but I knew I was in a German family, and German families sang German Christmas carols because they were “our music.”  When I was 25, I did learn to speak German, and I have since forgotten it, but that is not the fault of the language.  It is my fault.

The point is that Germans know German, French people know French, Americans know English, and Catholics should know Latin, because it is “our language.”  In fact, after Vatican Council II, in 1974, Pope Paul VI sent a booklet of chants to all the bishops in the world.  The booklet was entitled Jubilate Deo.  It contained what the accompanying letter said should be “a minimum selection of sacred chants. This was done in response to a desire which the Holy Father had frequently expressed, that all the faithful should know at least some Latin Gregorian chants.”[10]

It is not necessary to know Latin to follow the Mass.  Missals provide translations to everything.  However, every Catholic should know some Latin because it is the language of the Church.  Indeed, every official pronouncement of the Church is not “official,” until it is published in the Acta Apostolicae Sedis, in Latin.  In addition, in 1962, Pope John XXIII, the pope who convened Vatican Council II, issued an Apostolic Letter entitled Veterum sapientiae, in which he extoled the virtues and importance of Latin in the Church, and he gave several orders to preserve the teaching and use of Latin in the Church because of its importance.[11]

It is our language.  We should each know some Latin.

A “Dead” Language or a Language of Unity?

Sometimes Latin is called a “dead” language because it is not used as the common language of any country. However, this makes it the perfect language for the Church and for liturgical and theological use.  Because it is not a commonly used language, it does not morph as languages do.  For example, in English usage, the word “badly” is an adverb that can have two, almost opposing, meanings.  If I say, “This tastes badly,” I mean that it tastes poorly.  If I say, “I want this so badly, I can taste it,” I mean that I want something a lot.  However, the use of this adverb has morphed beyond this.  In colloquial language, someone might say, “That is so bad!”  Here, the meaning is not that something is bad, but that it is good!  If you were not around in the 1980s, you may not recognize this phrase, because, as the language has evolved, it has fallen out of common usage, but that is exactly the point.  Latin does not evolve in this same way precisely because it is not a commonly spoken language.  Therefore, its meanings stay consistent, which makes it a perfect language for theological discourse and liturgical usage.  Can you imagine the chaos if a phrase like “Hoc est enim corpus meum” (for this is My body) were to change meaning over time?

In addition, because Latin is not the language of a particular ethnic, cultural, or national group, it can be the language of everyone without “territorial” issues entering the discussion.  If Latin is no one’s language, it can be everyone’s language, making it a perfect language of unity: it is not one country or culture’s language; it is the language of the Church, the universal Church.

Once again, the Baltimore Catechism affirms the use of Latin as a unifying language:

The Church uses the Latin language instead of the national language of its children: (3) To show that the Church is not an institute of any particular nation, but the guide of all nations.[12]

Conclusion

O Latin, how do I love thee?  Let me count the ways. Thou art mysterious, beautiful, stable (in meaning)!  Thou art mine, my Church’s, and everyone’s!

Latin is part of my tradition and another reason why I will hold onto tradition forever.

Continued next week.