Deforming the Clergy

"It is stretching the limits of human recollection to think they would not be conscious of the “them” they are facing and who respond to them rather than the One to whom they are offering the sacrifice."

From Crisis

By Francis Magister

Does the Novus Ordo Mass by its nature alter the nature of the priest from one who performs a sacrifice to one who is in charge of a ceremony?

It happened again a while ago. The Mass was honoring a former member of the parish who had just professed final vows. Visiting clergy were present. After the procession, when all were assembled on the altar, the pastor made the sign of the cross, looked at the packed house, gave a big smile, and said, “Yep, just another ordinary Mass at St. ‘X’.” A laughter of good will broke out. He introduced the visiting priests; and each, in turn, received a round of applause.

Whatever solemnity there may have been received a huge blow. 

This is not another rant of how priests are deforming the Mass by their impromptu remarks. Rather, I am raising the question of whether the Mass, specifically the Novus Ordo Mass by its nature, may be deforming our priests. This is true even when it is celebrated reverently and on special occasions. In fact, it seems the more special the occasion, the more egregious the transgression.  

I don’t impute any fault to those involved. There needs to be knowledge of a transgression for that to be imputed, and the point of this piece is that we’ve come to the point where the knowledge seems to be lacking through no fault of the participants. I know each priest involved and had been to confession with most of them. They were solid on Church teaching and the guidance of souls.  

By “deforming the clergy,” I mean that the Novus Ordo can seem (and I emphasize “seem”) to alter the nature of the priest from one who performs a sacrifice to one who is in charge of a ceremony. His whole attitude and demeanor changes. I am sure this is unconscious and that the vast majority of priests view their celebration of the Mass as a solemn event. They take what they are doing very seriously. They intend no disrespect to our Lord, nor do they intend in any way to make the Mass about themselves. 

But that’s the problem: despite their intent, the Novus Ordo, by its nature, can (I could say “does”) make the personality of the priest an issue. It has become second nature to the clergy just as “lining up” to receive the Eucharist has become for the laity.   

A Catholic priest is different in kind from Protestant clergy. At ordination, his soul undergoes an ontological change. The fact that he is called a “priest” and not a “minister” reflects this, for a priest is, by definition, one who offers a sacrifice. Only a priest, because of the change he has undergone at ordination, can act in persona Christi and change the bread and wine into the Body and Blood of our Lord at the Consecration. He says, “This is my body,” “This is my blood.” That is what it is all about. Anything that gets in the way of that is suspect. 

The Novus Ordo makes the priest self-conscious in the very act of which he should be most unself-conscious. During the time when they should believe themselves to be a “useless tool,” to use Ronald Knox’s phrase, they are made to feel the center of attention. And who would not, facing a large group of people with a microphone magnifying his every word? 

Again, I do not blame them. This is how they have been formed—if not by how they have been taught in the seminary or by the example of those they have followed, then by the nature of what they are doing in the Novus Ordo. For the Mass is not only a supernatural act but a natural act as well; and the natural act they are doing in the Novus Ordo is facing people, looking at them, and speaking out loud. It is stretching the limits of human recollection to think they would not be conscious of the “them” they are facing and who respond to them rather than the One to whom they are offering the sacrifice.  

This seeps in in so many ways: the “greeting” many priests feel compelled to give after the opening sign of the cross; the ad-libbing of parts of the Mass (allowed by the directions in the Novus Ordo to use “similar words”); the stress, with the increased selection of readings, on making an impression during the homily during daily Mass; the asides at the end of Mass to “have a blessed day” or comment on the announcements (a decidedly jarring break just after one has received the King of kings, the Lord of Lords). 

It does not help when the laity are up there doing their part: lectors trying their best to intone the readings in just the right way; choir directors interjecting directions; Eucharistic Ministers arising from the pews to take their place around the altar and then jockeying around to find their positions in the church.  

Again, I intend no slight at all to those in these positions. It is all done with the best, the holiest, of intentions. But the intention of an act does not override the nature of an act. 

Imagine a young man discerning a vocation. I remember when I was doing so. My mother told me that you become a priest because “your life would not make sense if you were not holding up that host as the Body and Blood of our Lord as a sacrifice to God.” She said nothing about giving a memorable homily, making the Mass “relevant” or “interesting.” 

But is that how a young man sees the priest today? Forget what is said on vocation retreats and in the seminary; he may not get that far. What he sees, what he experiences Sunday after Sunday, on a natural level, is a man leading others in a ceremony. If he is at all diffident, if he is at all self-conscious, he will have significant qualms. And if he is not diffident or is instead one who feels comfortable in leading others, the pitfalls are more grave. 

How can he follow Fr. “X” who seems so at home up there? Who seems so at ease in speaking to others? Who gives the homilies that others talk about? Who is able to give those memorable quips at the end of Mass? You have to wonder if even St. Jean Vianney would have been cowed from pursuing his vocation. 

This effect of the Novus Ordo has other ramifications. Because there are different Masses for different groups (the Children’s Mass, the Young Adult Mass, the Charismatic Mass, etc.), the priest may feel the need to cater to the particular audience. The parish needs a liturgy committee; and Fr. X must now have skills as a negotiator, deciding what’s appropriate for the various groups, what music is allowed, how “far” the Mass can go for the various groups. Walking this tightrope is not for the faint of heart. It also takes time away from a priest’s other duties, such as confession, counseling, and praying the Office. 

I wonder if this emphasis on the personality of the priest doesn’t have effects going “up the chain.” It is a small step from “facilitator” to “administrator” to “CEO.” The more outgoing and affable priests are certainly talked about and noticed more (through no fault or desire of their own). 

But might not this give them more stature when episcopal or pastoral vacancies are discussed? Certainly, such “people skills” are important, but the emphasis the Novus Ordo puts on them can overshadow more important qualities such as the prospect’s life of prayer, personal holiness, and orthodox beliefs. When a priest feels almost bound to make personal comments during Mass, he may later feel bound to comment on other things, whether in his purview or not. 

Added to this is another discomforting thing facing clergy today: the danger of the “celebrity” priest. Many priests and bishops have their own outlets on social media. As much as I loathe technology and social media, I can admit—somewhat—the value of this. Today, this is how most people are reached, and some priests and bishops have used this well. 

But again, there is the temptation—the almost irresistible temptation—to post or comment or “like” or “share” one’s views, and that is not good, especially for a priest. This is a problem for priests anywhere on the liberal/conservative spectrum, but it seems to me more natural, and therefore more dangerous, for the priest who feels at liberty to do this during the very act which should overshadow his personality more than any other: the sacrifice of the Mass. 

Yes, many priests reverently celebrate the Novus Ordo, and let’s just say that that is most of them out there. But I ask you, how often have you been to a Novus Ordo Mass where the priest followed the rubrics—and only the rubrics—from start to finish: no comments at the beginning, no comments at the end, no fumbling with the microphone, no hint of trying to get the congregation “more involved” by his gestures, glances, or tone? In my experience, that is extremely rare and becomes almost nonexistent the more experienced (or comfortable) the priest is. (And this leaves out the peccadilloes of those assisting at the Mass, such as lectors, choir leaders, and extraordinary ministers of the Eucharist.) 

Perhaps all this is a misperception on my part. It wouldn’t happen if I were more recollected and followed the missal and blocked out the imperfections or faults of the priest and others. I plead guilty. But I offer as extenuation that this is very hard to do when a man with a microphone is facing me and—for all intents and purposes—speaking to me. (And, again, made more difficult when I must shift my attention to others giving me directions.) 

When I go to the TLM, I can say that I am never troubled by one thought that haunts me when I attend the Novus Ordo: Who will the celebrant be? I can honestly say it makes no difference at the TLM. Be he hermit or comedian, his personality disappears; he is bound by the strict and overwhelming dictates of the rite. I find it liberating. 

If I could recommend one book for a Catholic to read from this year, it would be Dr. Peter Kwasniewski’s Turned Around: Replying to Common Objections Against the Traditional Latin Mass. It is as much good spiritual reading as it is apologetic. The first four chapters (on the ad orientem posture, the separation of the priest from the people, the “courtliness” of the TLM, and the rituals and rubrics) make convincing reading of why the TLM is more beneficial for the spirituality not only of the laity but also for the priest. And make no mistake, a rise in the quantity of vocations will be of little avail unless the quality of those vocations rises as well. 

The Novus Ordo has been the standard for almost sixty years. Most Catholics—including clergy—know no other. It has become second nature to us. But spiritual writers warn us that the more natural a fault is, the more difficult it is to notice and overcome. We also know that slight faults over time become large holes later. My point, again—and once more excusing those who do this—is that this has become so natural for us now.  

Not to be unecumenical, but a distinctive difference between Catholics and Protestants used to be the way we worshiped, and that was seen most clearly in the behavior of the priest at Mass. How he did what he did visibly showed a fundamental contrast between the faiths. The Novus Ordo has blurred this distinction and thus obscures the essence of the priesthood. It does for the laity, and I’m afraid it does so for many priests. If we are to evangelize the Catholic Faith, we must show what is different about it. That begins with the Mass, which begins with the priest.