Mystery: A Necessary Component of the Catholic Liturgy

Because sometimes not everything should be entirely understood.

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When you attend a Traditional Latin Mass and have a missal, do you read in English or Latin? That this could be a question had never occurred to me, until, one day, my youngest sister mentioned almost knowing the entire Last Gospel by heart — in English. I was surprised. Why in English?

I almost know the Last Gospel by heart, too — but in Latin. Although in the past I have read it a few times in English, it had never occurred to me to always follow the priest by reading the English translation. Aside from the few words I can make out, I have had no formal study of Latin. Yet, until that conversation with my sister, it had never crossed my mind that there could be a question whether one should read the English or Latin in one’s missal. I always assumed it was to follow the priest as he went along, and in the same language.

Certainly, there have been times when I have read the English translation in my missal. But, for the most part, it has been when I have been unable to follow the priest as he reads, such as during the Canon. As for the rest of the Mass itself, I instinctively seem to prefer to read it in an unknown, dead language — even when I have a good, understandable translation in the vernacular beside it. This led me to wonder why I did so, and in the process come to a few conclusions why Latin in the liturgy is important.

One of the main objections against the TLM is the language it is said in. This objection holds that, because the liturgy is not in the vernacular, the people cannot understand what is going on since the priest is speaking in a language unknown to them. Those who hold this objection are right. Most people do not understand Latin, aside from the few words whose meaning they might occasionally be able to guess.

But why should the liturgy be in an ancient, out-of-fashion language nearly no one understands anymore? There are many proper reasons I could list why this is. My focus here, however, will be to note how it doesn’t matter if the liturgy is in an unknown language because we don’t have to understand everything.

Much like the time of the French Revolution, we live in an age of reason. We live in an age when we want to know everything. We want to know if there is life in outer space. We want to know the very extent to which our technology can reach. We want to be able to know how to conquer death (physically, albeit not spiritually). We want to hear an explanation for everything.

I believe this is one reason why some people struggle so much with believing in God in our day. They want proof that God exists. They want an explanation why they should believe in the first place. We — humans — want to understand Him — who is Divine — in a thoroughly human way. It is humbling to admit, especially in our age of reason, that we do not — and cannot — understand everything. It can be mortifying for us to admit that, if we want to learn, we have to be willing to be humbled.

As in the atheist refusing to believe in God because he cannot understand Him, it is the same line of thought that stands behind the desire to have the Mass said in the vernacular (“I can’t understand what the priest is saying!”), and both reasoning is equally wrong. Like God, the Mass is not something to be entirely understood by humans because it is something that is divine and transcendent. It takes place here on earth, but is really something from Heaven. There are things which are meant to be a mystery to us. Perhaps this is something God permits in order to allow us to practice the virtue of humility by trusting Him.

“What is the use of keeping the Mass in an ancient language, if we have English translations anyway? We can read that!” Certainly. I could take my missal now and learn every word of the Traditional Mass in English, leaving no mystery to what the priest says in Latin anymore. Then why do we keep things the way they are? What is the use of this?

But would having the Mass in English really make us understand it more? Think of what has happened in the Church during the past sixty years. For the past sixty years, most Masses are said in the language people understand, whether that be English, Spanish, or Portuguese. Do more people understand the Mass better now? Not only the words, but what the Mass really is? Do Catholics believe more earnestly and deeply in the Real Presence of Our Lord in the Eucharist?

If you have looked around you at all, lately, you know the answer is quite obviously no. In our days, when the Mass is at its most “understandable”, when the learned language is spoken and the easiest, common words used, the Church is at an all-time low. Belief in the Real Presence has tanked (as recent studies have shown), as has Mass attendance. So does being able to understand everything really make things better?

Once again, the answer is no. And if you should ask why it is no, I would say because there are some things we simply cannot understand properly, and that are not meant to be understood, either. Thus, when you take and strip these things of their proper mystery in hopes of being able to take it in like a mathematical formula or a scientific theory, you end up with what we have today — a banality and overall lack of understanding even greater than that which we had before the reform of the liturgy.

Aside from the fact that the reverent mystery we find in the Traditional Mass is due to God, there also remains the truth that we need mystery. Mystery is necessary to us. In this sense, it could even be said that mystery is Catholic. Only in an atheist, “reasonable” generation does it happen that people will try to understand sacred as they do the profane — and will fail miserable at it in the process. There are things which are meant to be a mystery to us, and that mystery ought to be represented in the liturgy through the actions of the priest at Mass.

Sometimes, at the Consecration during Mass, I would take up my missal and read the Roman Canon in English. I did this at times to appreciate the beauty of the Canon against Eucharistic Prayer II (which I used to hear often when I attended the Novus Ordo), at others to ensure I would be focused during the Consecration. Lately, however, as I heard someone speak about the mystery of the Mass at the Consecration, I came to a resolution. Moving forward — at least for the near future —, I will no longer be reading the Roman Canon at Mass. I will be doing this because I believe the Canon is said silently for a reason. It is something between the priest and God Himself. Instead, I will choose to bask in the sheer, glorious mystery of the silence during the Canon — all the while keeping in mind that the Mass, being a piece of Heaven on earth, is meant to be as much of a mystery to a mere human being as that Eternal Place itself.