What Is Tradition? Fidelity and Treason

Dr Kmita grew up in an Orthodox country and converted to the True Faith. He had no idea of the existence of Traditionalism until it was mentioned by an Orthodox professor.

From One Peter Five

By Robert Lazu Kmita, PhD

The series on the “Trad Movement” proposed by Mr. Timothy Flanders inspired me to write a few articles about authors who should be included on the list of mandatory readings. Hopefully, these articles will be released in the near future. Until then, however, it seemed necessary to clarify the very term “tradition,” which is often used without the reflection demanded by its crucial importance. Besides this–let’s name it–“theoretical” motivation, this article also has a second one, a biographical motivation.

For most of my life I lived in a place where the “trad movement” – to use the term common among Western Christians – simply does not exist. There is no church where the traditional Roman Catholic Mass is celebrated (constantly or even just occasionally). None of the priestly fraternities that celebrate the Gregorian mass exists there. No one mentions, debates, or even uses words like “tradition,” “traditionalism,” or “traditionalist.” Period. To be one hundred percent precise, the only exception is found in certain very small intellectual circles, where “traditionalism” is associated with dubious esoteric thinkers such as René Guénon and Frithjof Schuon. But, of course, these intellectual tricksters have no relationship with the Catholic “trad movement.” Otherwise, as I said, the very notion of “tradition,” along with the related terminology, seems to be completely absent from the common vocabulary of Catholics.

The fact that the pre–Vatican II liturgy was changed is also completely unknown—or, in the case of older generations who experienced it directly, absolutely ignored. A friend of mine tried in vain to learn something about the whole affair from elderly Catholic priests living in the region known as Moldavia, where there were more Catholics than in any other part of Romania. For them, it was as if absolutely nothing had happened. They politely listened to him and then changed the subject without any polemical reaction: the simple fact that the Pope had decided so was enough to guarantee that everything was fine and that nothing could be discussed on the matter.

The only noticeable reaction my friend received came from a foreign Catholic priest, who asked him just one thing: “Who told you that such an old liturgy ever existed?” The man was visibly astonished that my friend had somehow learned about the existence of the pre-Vatican II liturgy. But even in this case, no real discussion was possible—the priest simply dismissed any further conversation with a “case closed.”

You may be surprised to learn who was the first person who ever told me about the replacement of the “traditional” Catholic liturgy: a professor of Classical Studies who was a member of the “Orthodox” Eastern Church. He was the first to tell me that something deeply wrong had happened within the Catholic Church: the “old” liturgy had been replaced by a “manufactured” one. It should be mentioned here that many Orthodox faithful share this negative opinion regarding the post-Vatican II “liturgical reform.” Unfortunately, for many of them this is just another confirmation of their belief that the pope and Catholics are, anyway, heretics. However, because I had never heard about such a catastrophic event in the Roman Catholic environment in which I converted in the year 2000, I initially ignored the story without raising any question.

Why do I mention all these facts? Because I want to emphasize a situation that is hardly understandable—if understandable at all—for a Catholic from the United States or Western Europe. The lives of Catholics living behind the Iron Curtain were almost hermetically isolated from any substantial contact with the Christian Western world. This is an isolation-generated phenomena that can rightly be described as “paranormal” in many respects. For example, while the post-conciliar liturgical reform began in the 1970s, in Romania it effectively took place only after the 1980s. In any case, apart from a few elderly Roman Catholic priests with a relatively sound theological training, such issues were not discussed among Catholic laypeople at all. As I have said, the very notion of “Tradition” was hardly—if ever—mentioned.

The only Romanian Catholic I knew who was familiar with the “trad movement” was someone who had emigrated to the United States. When I asked him where he had learnt about “Tradition,” he confessed that only after leaving Romania (in 1984)—while living in Germany—had he heard about this movement for the first time. So, in such a context, what meaningful thing can one say about “Tradition”? For me, as a layman who worked as a catechist for almost fifteen years, this was a deeply challenging question.

The main point of my article is not related to the content of Christian Tradition as such, but rather to the forma mentis of those who love and defend it. In other words, before referring to a specific and unchangeable content, Tradition refers to a particular way of perceiving and understanding the Church and everything that is transmitted to us under the guidance of the faithful Magisterium.

For example, among modern (and modernistic) Catholic theologians there was an intense debate surrounding the Apostolic Constitution Dei Verbum: which came first, Tradition or Sacred Scripture? For a Catholic whose forma mentis is shaped by Tradition, like Saint Francis de Sales, such a debate is almost meaningless—because he knows without hesitation that Tradition is the “riverbed” through which Sacred Scripture itself flows. At the same time, the tendency to emphasize the value of the Holy Scripture when decreasing or minimizing the value of Tradition can be just a sign for hidden (neo)Protestant views.

The same professor who first mentioned to me the liturgical revolution that occurred in the post-conciliar Catholic Church also paid great attention to the etymology of significant words such as “Tradition.” His insights were often very helpful. In this case, we know that the word comes from the Latin traditio, a noun meaning “handing over” or “delivery.” The matter becomes even more significant when we learn that this noun derives from the Latin verb tradere—whose meanings are “to hand over, to deliver,” or “to betray.”

What is truly remarkable is the fact that from this same verb tradere, modern languages have inherited two distinct words: “tradition” and “treason.” Philologists call such pairs “doublets” —words born from the same, unique root. The profound meaning of the relationship between “tradition” and “treason” becomes crystal clear if we recall a teaching of Saint Paul from his Epistle to the Galatians:

But even if we, or an angel from heaven, should preach to you a gospel contrary to the one we preached to you, let him be anathema. As we have said before, so now I say again: if anyone preaches to you a gospel contrary to the one you received, let him be anathema (Galatians1:8–9).

In the above words of the holy Apostle Paul we immediately discover a reference to the simplest—but also the most powerful— meaning of Tradition: nothing is to be added to what has already been received. Translated into the terms of our discussion, nothing can be added to Tradition—to what has already been handed down to us. The only quality required of those who have received the Gospel is fidelity. If this fidelity is not preserved, the result is betrayal of the Gospel. Returning now to the two related words, “tradition” and “treason,” we can understand their connection: where the received content is preserved and transmitted faithfully, we speak of Tradition; where that content is altered through additions or omissions, we speak of treason.

A concrete example from the realm of the Church’s millennia-old liturgical discipline has been brought back into focus by an intervention of Bishop Athanasius Schneider. In a recent interview, he stated boldly that women cannot and must not serve as readers or altar servers at Mass. Bishop Schneider is not making this claim for the first time. In an interview given ten years ago to the blog Rorate Caeli, he answered the question of the role of women in the Church with complete clarity:

There is no doubt about the fact that female involvement in liturgical services at the altar (reading the lessons, serving at the altar, distributing Holy Communion) represents a radical rupture with the entire and universal tradition of the Church. Therefore, such a practice is against Apostolic Tradition.

In other words, it is an act of treason against the Apostolic Tradition. From a practical standpoint, when a Christian encounters such innovations in the Church’s liturgical discipline, he should immediately recognize the rupture by thinking very simply: “This has never been done at the Holy Liturgy.” And this would be entirely correct. Never, in any rite recognized by the Catholic Church, have women been allowed to assume any liturgical function at the altar.

The reason for this is not misogyny, as some ideologues would have us believe, but rather the traditional teaching regarding the distinct roles of the two sexes. There are functions that belong exclusively to women—such as motherhood—just as there are functions that belong exclusively to men, such as the priestly ministry and any service in proximity to the Holy Altar. This doctrinal content concerning the God-created functions (or “natural charisms,” if you wish) of man and woman is among the most important elements transmitted to us through what Bishop Athanasius Schneider calls “Apostolic Tradition.” Any violation of it can rightly be called “treason.”

Another point that must be emphasized is that such immutable content—like all truths of divine origin—demands from us an attitude that can properly be called “traditional” or “traditionalist.” This attitude is rooted in an always-renewed intellectual humility, one that never seeks to innovate, add, or invent, but only to receive and faithfully transmit the content of Apostolic Tradition.

Whether or not it is explicitly labeled “traditionalist,” this attitude is what truly defines and animates those Christians (i.e., Catholics) who are called “traditionalists.” This, I believe, is what is absolutely characteristic of the true lovers and defenders of Apostolic Tradition—such as Bishop Athanasius Schneider himself: the cultivation and defense of a disposition of mind that reverently preserves all the contents (dogmatic, moral, liturgical etc.) of Christian Tradition and transmits them without alteration. In a certain sense, such an attitude reflects—however imperfectly—the immutability of the Kingdom of Heaven and of its absolute King, God, within our world. For this a true Christian always prays, lives, and when required, dies. Because this is our treasure. A treasure for which, as in the parable of our Lord Jesus Christ (Matthew 13:44), we sold everything to buy.

Pictured: Peleș Castle, built by the Catholic King Carol I of Romania 1873-1914.