Lost and Found in Translation
One of Beth's recent posts reminded me of just how special today is. Today is the Feast of Christ the King, and it is the last time I will hear and say the words of the Mass the way that I learned it, the way I have heard and spoken it since I was little. Next Sunday, the First Sunday of Advent, not only ushers in a new Liturgical Year, but also the implementation of the New Roman Missal. For those of us who worship in English, it will still be in English...but in different words. This new Missal will be closer to the literal translation of the original Latin prayers of the Mass.
I must admit, as this important event in Church history draws closer, I have been facing it with some trepidation. As I said, the Missal as it is now is all my parents' generation and mine have ever known. Some months back, I read an article about the new Missal in the Arlington Catholic Herald, in which the author said that it would be easier for young people to learn the new words, as they are more receptive and adaptable to change. Upon reading that, I thought, "well, what about someone like me? I'm young, but also an adult who has heard and said the Mass as it was prescribed by Vatican II since I was old enough to talk and learn the prayers. Does that mean it will be easier for me to learn a new way of doing this, or harder?" I fear getting lost in translation and having to relearn something that is at the core of who I am and what I believe. I don't always handle change very well...but then again, if I couldn't handle change, I wouldn't be in Charlottesville right now, would I? Life can't go on without growth and change, and the same can be said of faith and of the Church. Even though the words and rituals may change, the tradition and faith itself does not.
Despite my misgivings, I have always been passionate about history, and have a great appreciation for the old language and traditions. One of the changes coming back is the original Confiteor ("I Confess") during the Penitential Rite. Until now, I knew the first part of it as: "I confess to Almighty God, and to you, my brothers and sisters, that I have sinned through my own fault, in my thoughts and in my words, in what I have done and what I have failed to do." For as long as I can remember, my Catholic grandparents have followed the old tradition of beating the breast three times at the words "through my own fault," and also during the Eucharistic Rite when the priest elevates the Body (formerly bread) and then the Blood (formerly wine) of Christ. Actually, it's just my grandfather who strikes three times, while my grandmother simply holds a reverent fist to her heart. The original Confiteor that's coming back says, "...I have greatly sinned, in what I have done and in what I have failed to do, through my fault, through my fault, through my most grievous fault" (in Latin, mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa), hence the three strikes. Interesting how a lot of things come in threes, especially to us Christians.
One of the reasons for the change is so that worshipers can really think about what they are saying, and saying it because they truly believe it...instead of repeating easy, familiar words by rote just for the sake of getting through the ritual. I have to admit, this is a good reason. You can spout off a lesson or a prayer you've memorized and not think twice about it, but this translation will make us think twice. Not only will our minds be more active, but our hearts more open.
So at Mass this afternoon, I will do as Beth says, and listen hard. This is history in the making, and it's exciting and humbling to witness it first-hand.
I must admit, as this important event in Church history draws closer, I have been facing it with some trepidation. As I said, the Missal as it is now is all my parents' generation and mine have ever known. Some months back, I read an article about the new Missal in the Arlington Catholic Herald, in which the author said that it would be easier for young people to learn the new words, as they are more receptive and adaptable to change. Upon reading that, I thought, "well, what about someone like me? I'm young, but also an adult who has heard and said the Mass as it was prescribed by Vatican II since I was old enough to talk and learn the prayers. Does that mean it will be easier for me to learn a new way of doing this, or harder?" I fear getting lost in translation and having to relearn something that is at the core of who I am and what I believe. I don't always handle change very well...but then again, if I couldn't handle change, I wouldn't be in Charlottesville right now, would I? Life can't go on without growth and change, and the same can be said of faith and of the Church. Even though the words and rituals may change, the tradition and faith itself does not.
Despite my misgivings, I have always been passionate about history, and have a great appreciation for the old language and traditions. One of the changes coming back is the original Confiteor ("I Confess") during the Penitential Rite. Until now, I knew the first part of it as: "I confess to Almighty God, and to you, my brothers and sisters, that I have sinned through my own fault, in my thoughts and in my words, in what I have done and what I have failed to do." For as long as I can remember, my Catholic grandparents have followed the old tradition of beating the breast three times at the words "through my own fault," and also during the Eucharistic Rite when the priest elevates the Body (formerly bread) and then the Blood (formerly wine) of Christ. Actually, it's just my grandfather who strikes three times, while my grandmother simply holds a reverent fist to her heart. The original Confiteor that's coming back says, "...I have greatly sinned, in what I have done and in what I have failed to do, through my fault, through my fault, through my most grievous fault" (in Latin, mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa), hence the three strikes. Interesting how a lot of things come in threes, especially to us Christians.
One of the reasons for the change is so that worshipers can really think about what they are saying, and saying it because they truly believe it...instead of repeating easy, familiar words by rote just for the sake of getting through the ritual. I have to admit, this is a good reason. You can spout off a lesson or a prayer you've memorized and not think twice about it, but this translation will make us think twice. Not only will our minds be more active, but our hearts more open.
So at Mass this afternoon, I will do as Beth says, and listen hard. This is history in the making, and it's exciting and humbling to witness it first-hand.
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