The Abbot of Solesmes' proposal is responded to by Andrea Grillo, reasserting his own delusion that there is only one rite of the Roman Church, to which Fr Miller has some thoughts.
From Rorate Cæli
By Fr Kevin M. Cusick, STL, CHC, LCDR, USN Retd
The Abbot of Solesmes' strange proposal—to create a hybridized missal that would please exactly no one, except perhaps a few monks in the Fontgombault congregation—has prompted more than a few responses. Here we present a translation of the barbed critique of Andrea Grillo, the mind behind Traditionis custodes, followed by a lucid assessment from a Benedictine monk.
Liturgical unity, not typographical. The One Roman Rite and Fr. Guéranger
The context in which the Abbot of Solesmes, Fr. Kemlin, frames his reflection—in a letter to Pope Leo dated November 12 of last year (made public only in recent days)—is of some significance. He knows that Solesmes is not a place like any other. It preserves the memory of one of the Fathers of the Liturgical Movement, who, as is rightly stated at the beginning of the letter, stands at the origins of the Liturgical Movement that led to the Liturgical Reform. [This is a repugnant falsehood, as anyone can see who reads Guéranger's Liturgical Institutions. - PAK]
He admits, however, that the monastic congregation of which he is president has experienced a rift between the practice at Solesmes—which uses the rite reformed by Paul VI—and other monasteries, such as Fontgombault, where the Tridentine rite is used instead.
Faced with this fractured situation within the same Congregation, the Abbot offers a series of observations of various kinds:
– He notes that those who use the Tridentine Missal “do not find themselves at home in” in Paul VI’s Missal.
– This depends, in his view, on the different liturgical “spirit” and anthropology underlying the two texts.
– Therefore, it will not be possible to get those attached to the old rite to adhere to the New Rite without “tweaking” the New Order.
– On the other hand, “tweaking” the Paul VI Missal would not succeed, because it would result in a situation with “three” Missals (the Tridentine, the original Paul VI, and the tweaked one)
– The proposed solution would instead be to “insert” the VO into the NO, as an autonomous part of it (except for minor adjustments).
– In this way, there would be a single “missal,” containing two distinct “ordines” within it.
– This would reestablish the unity of a single textual reference, within which the two ecclesial “parts” would be recognized.
As is evident from this summary, alongside a thoroughly convincing insight, a series of truly insurmountable theoretical and practical difficulties arise.
a) The fact that the unity of the Church (and of the Congregation of Solesmes) must be restored is entirely true. A single rite is the condition for unity. Two parallel rites do not create unity, but division. In this, the letter reaches the same conclusions as Traditionis custodes.
b) However, the only solution is to work theologically, not typographically. If we were to compile a missal containing both the reformed rite and the rite that needed to be reformed, we would not resolve the parallelism at all: there would be parallelism between two ordines within the same missal, rather than in two different missals.
c) It would be curious to have a single missal in which one Ordo would depend on the 1917 Code while the other would depend on the 1983 Code. Who would not see an insurmountable contradiction here?
d) The question of managing a single calendar across two parallel ordines would still remain, as they conceive not only anthropology, the Church, the law, and liturgical “anointing” differently, but also time. Unifying the calendar is possible only with a single ordo, not with two. The Missal alone, as a book, does not unify what remains divided.
These difficulties are by no means marginal. It was precisely Fr. Guéranger, from whom the entire discourse of the letter stems, who had had a youthful intuition linked to his sociological studies. He knew then, in 1830, that the rediscovery of the liturgy depended on its power of “institutive action.” The Catholic Church, after Napoleon, could begin anew by placing the ritual action—the Catholic, Roman one—at its foundation. What would the founder of Solesmes say today, faced with the singular proposal coming from his successor? I believe he would be rather perplexed.
If one evaluates the letter from Guéranger’s perspective, a glaring contradiction becomes apparent. The contradiction between the legitimate demand for a “single rite,” which would be normative for the entire Congregation and for the entire Church, and the solution of a single Missal, devoid of theological, anthropological, ecclesial, and spiritual substance.
Perhaps within the Congregation of Solesmes one might be deluded by a “typographical” solution: perhaps for the monks, a single book might give the illusion of unity. The Catholic Church, which is certainly more complex than a monastic congregation, lives by a single “lex orandi,” not by the typographical union of two leges orandi that are contradictory to one another, both ecclesially and anthropologically, as Abbot Kemlin himself acknowledges. Liturgical unity is not reestablished typographically, but theologically: not on the level of a single book, but on that of a single ordo.
The letter’s greatest merit lies in its fundamental assertion: two parallel rites do not resolve the question of unity. All that remains is to work on the single rite currently in force. Those who “do not find themselves in it,” to use the Abbot’s expression, should consider not that they lack a single book, but that they have lost the reasons for remaining in communion not only with the Roman Church but also with Fr. Guéranger.
Commentary by Fr. Miller– Therefore, it will not be possible to get those attached to the old rite to adhere to the New Rite without “tweaking” the New Order.
– On the other hand, “tweaking” the Paul VI Missal would not succeed, because it would result in a situation with “three” Missals (the Tridentine, the original Paul VI, and the tweaked one)
– The proposed solution would instead be to “insert” the VO into the NO, as an autonomous part of it (except for minor adjustments).
– In this way, there would be a single “missal,” containing two distinct “ordines” within it.
– This would reestablish the unity of a single textual reference, within which the two ecclesial “parts” would be recognized.
As is evident from this summary, alongside a thoroughly convincing insight, a series of truly insurmountable theoretical and practical difficulties arise.
a) The fact that the unity of the Church (and of the Congregation of Solesmes) must be restored is entirely true. A single rite is the condition for unity. Two parallel rites do not create unity, but division. In this, the letter reaches the same conclusions as Traditionis custodes.
b) However, the only solution is to work theologically, not typographically. If we were to compile a missal containing both the reformed rite and the rite that needed to be reformed, we would not resolve the parallelism at all: there would be parallelism between two ordines within the same missal, rather than in two different missals.
c) It would be curious to have a single missal in which one Ordo would depend on the 1917 Code while the other would depend on the 1983 Code. Who would not see an insurmountable contradiction here?
d) The question of managing a single calendar across two parallel ordines would still remain, as they conceive not only anthropology, the Church, the law, and liturgical “anointing” differently, but also time. Unifying the calendar is possible only with a single ordo, not with two. The Missal alone, as a book, does not unify what remains divided.
These difficulties are by no means marginal. It was precisely Fr. Guéranger, from whom the entire discourse of the letter stems, who had had a youthful intuition linked to his sociological studies. He knew then, in 1830, that the rediscovery of the liturgy depended on its power of “institutive action.” The Catholic Church, after Napoleon, could begin anew by placing the ritual action—the Catholic, Roman one—at its foundation. What would the founder of Solesmes say today, faced with the singular proposal coming from his successor? I believe he would be rather perplexed.
If one evaluates the letter from Guéranger’s perspective, a glaring contradiction becomes apparent. The contradiction between the legitimate demand for a “single rite,” which would be normative for the entire Congregation and for the entire Church, and the solution of a single Missal, devoid of theological, anthropological, ecclesial, and spiritual substance.
Perhaps within the Congregation of Solesmes one might be deluded by a “typographical” solution: perhaps for the monks, a single book might give the illusion of unity. The Catholic Church, which is certainly more complex than a monastic congregation, lives by a single “lex orandi,” not by the typographical union of two leges orandi that are contradictory to one another, both ecclesially and anthropologically, as Abbot Kemlin himself acknowledges. Liturgical unity is not reestablished typographically, but theologically: not on the level of a single book, but on that of a single ordo.
The letter’s greatest merit lies in its fundamental assertion: two parallel rites do not resolve the question of unity. All that remains is to work on the single rite currently in force. Those who “do not find themselves in it,” to use the Abbot’s expression, should consider not that they lack a single book, but that they have lost the reasons for remaining in communion not only with the Roman Church but also with Fr. Guéranger.
* * * * *
The Abbot of Solesmes recently publicized his suggestion to Pope Leo that the ancient Ordo Missae should, with slight changes, be inserted into the Missal of Paul VI for the sake of unity.
Andrea Grillo responded to this suggestion by noting that not unity but only the illusion of unity would result. One book with two ordos is no more unified than two books. He reasserts his own delusion that there is only one rite of the Roman Church—the new one—and that those who don’t feel comfortable with it have lost any reason to believe they are in communion with the Roman Church.
A little experiment could test, perhaps, which of these views falls closer to the truth.
Among the ordinary prayers of the Mass are those said either during the (old) offertory, or during the (new) presentation of the gifts, often called, “the offertory.”
The prayers of the old Mass were developed to clarify and explicate what is contained in the Canon implicitly and less clearly: that the Mass is a sacrifice. The offertory prayers stand to the canon in a way similar to how the commentaries of the fathers stand to scripture. They say the same thing, but in more explicit language. The bread and wine are thus spoken of as though they were already the body and blood of Christ. This anticipation of the sacrifice is present in other Catholic rites of the East, in various forms.
Those who created the new Mass wanted to get rid of any anticipation.
Let me say that again: those who created the new Mass wanted to get rid of any anticipation. The process that ended with the new prayers for the presentation of the gifts began with a choice to oppose something that was present not only in the old Roman Mass, but all the other Catholic rites too.
The process progressed with a search. Could there be, in any Roman Liturgical Book, prayers that serve the purpose of “presenting gifts” while remaining silent about the sacrifice? No. What about the other Western rites? No. What about all the Eastern Catholic Rites? No.
What to do?
The obvious answer to the question would be to stop, to realize that one’s starting point (opposing what came before) was wrong, and then to form one’s mind to the existing Tradition rather than re-forming the Tradition to one’s messed-up mind.
But they pressed on.
Finally, they found their prayers—or at least their germ—in post-Christian Jewish prayers of blessing. “We give you thanks almighty God…bread to offer… fruit of the earth… work of human hands… etc.”
These new prayers are a bit ingenious. They have at least some tradition—Jewish. They present bread and wine. They mention sacrifice not at all. They don’t treat the bread and wine as though they are already the body and blood of Christ.
So, even if the process of formation was a bit odd, perhaps the prayers themselves can, like the Abbot of Solesmes suggests, be included with the old ones in one book, for the sake of unity. In other words, maybe the process was bad, but the end result was still capable of forming some sort of real unity with the old prayers?
There are, however, a few aspects of the new prayers that cause hesitation.
The first draft of them read “which will become the body of Christ” and “Which will become the blood of Christ.” Later, this was changed to “spiritual food” and “spiritual drink.” Did the reformers want to avoid not only an explicit mention of sacrifice, but also of transubstantiation?
As mentioned earlier, the prayers are based on prayers found in the Jewish tradition which came after Christ. The main outline of the prayers are taken from the Babylonian Talmud. Peter Schäfer, the eminent Hebrew Scholar of Princeton university, argues reasonably that the Babylonian Talmud suggests that Mary, the mother of God, was a whore, and that Jesus is now burning in a vat of poop (in hell) for his sins. However remote these origins are from the Mass, prayers that come from that tradition are, during Mass, awkward (to say the least).
Finally, the phrase, “work of human hands” is found many times in Holy Scripture, but as something always that God abominates: idol worship. It also has Marxist overtones, as communism believes that the work of human hands is, in opposition to God, the source of man’s salvation.
Thus, the old prayers express man’s need to offer the One True God the ultimate sacrifice to atone for his sins. The new prayers express man’s cooperation with God in making bread and wine, and mention that these things will become some sort of spiritual food. But the prayers are tinted with a tainted past and contain allusions to things that are weird: whoredom, Jesus in hell, Marxist materialism, and idol worship.
The old prayers seem to fit more comfortably in a church that has a sense of sin, that smashes pagan idols, condemns Jews and protestants, and worships God alone. The new prayers seem to fit more comfortably in a church that constantly rethinks the right way of “being church,” and that seeks unity, not with the Catholic churches of antiquity, but with protestants, pagans, Muslims, Jews, and Marxists. The new rite easily “fits” with erecting a statue of Luther in the Vatican, praying to Eastern Grandma, participating in Pachamama rites, kissing the Koran, giving the Eucharist to adulterers, accepting Chinese Communist bishops, excommunicating Bishop Fellay, and appointing McCarrick and company to the highest sees.
The Abbot of Solesmes suggests that different men can “find themselves” in one of the two rites, while taking comfort in the fact that the other rite is printed just a few pages away. Andrea Grillo suggests that this kind of unity is a mere illusion. (I do know men, holier than myself, who find themselves in the new rite, not because they know its origin and allusions, but because it’s what they’re accustomed to and they desire to piously receive anything from Rome. But these men would have nothing against the old prayers. That is, they could find themselves in the old prayers too.)
Do the offertory prayers clarify whose position is closer to the truth?
And yet, another question is more fundamental.
Anyone who “finds himself” in the old rite should think he has every reason for still being in communion with the Catholic Church, both East and West, of all time. But is Andrea Grillo correct? Is it true that whoever “does not find himself” in the new rite has lost his reasons for still being in communion with “the Roman Church®” of today?
A little experiment could test, perhaps, which of these views falls closer to the truth.
Among the ordinary prayers of the Mass are those said either during the (old) offertory, or during the (new) presentation of the gifts, often called, “the offertory.”
The prayers of the old Mass were developed to clarify and explicate what is contained in the Canon implicitly and less clearly: that the Mass is a sacrifice. The offertory prayers stand to the canon in a way similar to how the commentaries of the fathers stand to scripture. They say the same thing, but in more explicit language. The bread and wine are thus spoken of as though they were already the body and blood of Christ. This anticipation of the sacrifice is present in other Catholic rites of the East, in various forms.
Those who created the new Mass wanted to get rid of any anticipation.
Let me say that again: those who created the new Mass wanted to get rid of any anticipation. The process that ended with the new prayers for the presentation of the gifts began with a choice to oppose something that was present not only in the old Roman Mass, but all the other Catholic rites too.
The process progressed with a search. Could there be, in any Roman Liturgical Book, prayers that serve the purpose of “presenting gifts” while remaining silent about the sacrifice? No. What about the other Western rites? No. What about all the Eastern Catholic Rites? No.
What to do?
The obvious answer to the question would be to stop, to realize that one’s starting point (opposing what came before) was wrong, and then to form one’s mind to the existing Tradition rather than re-forming the Tradition to one’s messed-up mind.
But they pressed on.
Finally, they found their prayers—or at least their germ—in post-Christian Jewish prayers of blessing. “We give you thanks almighty God…bread to offer… fruit of the earth… work of human hands… etc.”
These new prayers are a bit ingenious. They have at least some tradition—Jewish. They present bread and wine. They mention sacrifice not at all. They don’t treat the bread and wine as though they are already the body and blood of Christ.
So, even if the process of formation was a bit odd, perhaps the prayers themselves can, like the Abbot of Solesmes suggests, be included with the old ones in one book, for the sake of unity. In other words, maybe the process was bad, but the end result was still capable of forming some sort of real unity with the old prayers?
There are, however, a few aspects of the new prayers that cause hesitation.
The first draft of them read “which will become the body of Christ” and “Which will become the blood of Christ.” Later, this was changed to “spiritual food” and “spiritual drink.” Did the reformers want to avoid not only an explicit mention of sacrifice, but also of transubstantiation?
As mentioned earlier, the prayers are based on prayers found in the Jewish tradition which came after Christ. The main outline of the prayers are taken from the Babylonian Talmud. Peter Schäfer, the eminent Hebrew Scholar of Princeton university, argues reasonably that the Babylonian Talmud suggests that Mary, the mother of God, was a whore, and that Jesus is now burning in a vat of poop (in hell) for his sins. However remote these origins are from the Mass, prayers that come from that tradition are, during Mass, awkward (to say the least).
Finally, the phrase, “work of human hands” is found many times in Holy Scripture, but as something always that God abominates: idol worship. It also has Marxist overtones, as communism believes that the work of human hands is, in opposition to God, the source of man’s salvation.
Thus, the old prayers express man’s need to offer the One True God the ultimate sacrifice to atone for his sins. The new prayers express man’s cooperation with God in making bread and wine, and mention that these things will become some sort of spiritual food. But the prayers are tinted with a tainted past and contain allusions to things that are weird: whoredom, Jesus in hell, Marxist materialism, and idol worship.
The old prayers seem to fit more comfortably in a church that has a sense of sin, that smashes pagan idols, condemns Jews and protestants, and worships God alone. The new prayers seem to fit more comfortably in a church that constantly rethinks the right way of “being church,” and that seeks unity, not with the Catholic churches of antiquity, but with protestants, pagans, Muslims, Jews, and Marxists. The new rite easily “fits” with erecting a statue of Luther in the Vatican, praying to Eastern Grandma, participating in Pachamama rites, kissing the Koran, giving the Eucharist to adulterers, accepting Chinese Communist bishops, excommunicating Bishop Fellay, and appointing McCarrick and company to the highest sees.
The Abbot of Solesmes suggests that different men can “find themselves” in one of the two rites, while taking comfort in the fact that the other rite is printed just a few pages away. Andrea Grillo suggests that this kind of unity is a mere illusion. (I do know men, holier than myself, who find themselves in the new rite, not because they know its origin and allusions, but because it’s what they’re accustomed to and they desire to piously receive anything from Rome. But these men would have nothing against the old prayers. That is, they could find themselves in the old prayers too.)
Do the offertory prayers clarify whose position is closer to the truth?
And yet, another question is more fundamental.
Anyone who “finds himself” in the old rite should think he has every reason for still being in communion with the Catholic Church, both East and West, of all time. But is Andrea Grillo correct? Is it true that whoever “does not find himself” in the new rite has lost his reasons for still being in communion with “the Roman Church®” of today?
Any missal that unites Pius X with Francis and Bishop Fellay with James Martin will not be one book. It will be two books, glued together. Any missal that unites the Catholics of the Roman rite will be the missal used by the Catholics of the Roman rite. It originated in the mists of antiquity, was copied painstakingly throughout the Middle Ages, and was widely printed from the 15th century onward. It can be found in any FSSP or ICKSP parish, and thanks to Benedict XVI, it can be found in many ordinary Catholic churches too.
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