Breviary Brief

It's that liturgically confusing time of year again. This year, I decided to get ahead of things little bit and make sure I was on the same page (pun intended) as Rome regarding the plan of the Hours in the Breviary surrounding the Epiphany.

If you're wondering what the heck I'm talking about, then go here and read my stream-of-consciousness narrative from last year when I worked through this problem ad nauseam. For some reason, though, it didn't occur to me last year that this problem would pertain annually to the liturgical celebrations of this season.

Sure enough, the Ordo for this year (which I have no copy of yet, but had a friend look up for me), contains the same note about the adjustment of the days following January 1. I'm permanently fixing my breviary to match the Latin one (and you can too!) by crossing out "Monday from January 1 to Epiphany" and writing "January 2." For "Tuesday &c.," the change is to "January 3"... and so on.

Trust me - it's not a sin to write in your breviary. And you'll have the sure confidence of praying what is put forth to be prayed by Mother Church.

Well, there's your public service announcement. Now back into obscurity. I may yet blog again before the end of break... we'll see.

Latin Antiphons and Closing Prayer for the Twenty-First Sunday of the Year (Cycle C)

Ad I Vesperas - Ad Magnificat, ant.

Contendite intrare per angustam portam, quia multi, dico vobis, quaerent intrare et non poterunt.

Ad Laudes matutinas - Ad Benedictus, ant.

Multi ab oriente et occidente venient et recumbent cum Abraham et Isaac et Iacob in regno caelorum.

Ad II Vesperas - Ad Magnificat, ant.

Ecce sunt novissimi, qui erunt primi, et sunt primi, qui erunt novissimi, dicit Dominus.

---

ORATIO

Deus, qui fidelium mentes unius efficis voluntatis, da populis tuis id amare quod praecipis, id desiderare quod promittis, ut, inter mundanas varietates, ibi nostra fixa sint corda, ubi vera sunt gaudia. Per Dominum...

Latin Antiphons and Closing Prayer for the Twentieth Sunday of the Year (Cycle C)

Ad I Vesperas - Ad Magnificat, ant.

Ignem veni mittere in terram, et quid volo nisi ut accendatur?

Ad Laudes matutinas - Ad Benedictus, ant.

Baptismo habeo baptizari, et quomodo coarctor usque dum perficiatur!

Ad II Vesperas - Ad Magnificat, ant.

Putatis quia pacem veni dare in terram? Non, dico vobis, sed separationem.

---

ORATIO

Deus, qui diligentibus te bona invisibilia praeparasti, infunde cordibus nostris tui amoris affectum, ut, te in omnibus et super omnia diligentes, promissiones tuas, quae omne desiderium superant, consequamur. Per Dominum...

Latin Antiphons and Closing Prayer for the Nineteenth Sunday of the Year (Cycle C)

Ad I Vesperas - Ad Magnificat, ant.

Ubi est thesaurus tuus, ibi est et cor tuum, dicit Dominus.

Ad Laudes matutinas - Ad Benedictus, ant.

Beati illi servi, quos cum venerit Dominus, et pulsaverit ianuam, invenerit vigilantes.

Ad II Vesperas - Ad Magnificat, ant.

Sint lumbi vestri praecincti, et lucernea ardentes in manibus vestris.

---

ORATIO

Omnipotens sempiterne Deus, quem paterno nomine invocare praesumimus, perfice in cordibus nostris spiritum adoptionis filiorum, ut promissam hereditatem ingredi mereamur. Per Dominum...

Latin Antiphons and Closing Prayer for the Eighteenth Sunday of the Year (Cycle C)

Am I the only person who gets a sensation of butterflies in his stomach every time we change volumes in the Breviary?

I'm easily excited, I guess...

---

Ad I Vesperas - Ad Magnificat, ant.

Cavete ab omni avaritia, quia vita vestra non est ex his, quae possidetis.

Ad Laudes matutinas - Ad Benedictus, ant.

Thesaurizate vobis thesauros in caelo, ubi nec aerugo, nec tinea demolitur.

Ad II Vesperas - Ad Magnificat, ant.

Si vere, fratres, divites esse cupitis, veras divitias amate.

---

ORATIO

Adesto, Domine, famulis tuis, et perpetuam benignitatem largire poscentibus, ut his, qui te auctorem et gubernatorem gloriantur habere, et grata restaures, et restaurata conserves. Per Dominum...

Latin Antiphons and Closing Prayer for the Seventeenth Sunday of the Year (Cycle C)

Ad I Vesperas - Ad Magnificat, ant.

Cum esset Iesus in quodam loco orans, dixit unus ex discipulis eius ad eum: Domine, doce nos orare.

Ad Laudes matutinas - Ad Benedictus, ant.

Petite, et dabitur vobis; quaerite, et invenietis; pulsate, et aperietur vobis.

Ad II Vesperas - Ad Magnificat, ant.

Si vos, cum sitis mali, nostis dona bona dare filiis vestris, quanto magis Pater de caelo dabit Spiritum Sanctum petentibus se!

---

ORATIO

Protector in te sperantium, Deus, sine quo nihil est validum, nihil sanctum, multiplica super nos misericordiam tuam, ut, te rectore, te duce, sic bonis transeuntibus nunc utamur, ut iam possimus inhaerere mansuris. Per Dominum...

Latin Antiphons and Closing Prayer for the Sixteenth Sunday of the Year (Cycle C)

Ad I Vesperas - Ad Magnificat, ant.

Intravit Iesus in quoddam castellum, et mulier quaedam, Martha nomine, excepit illum.

Ad Laudes matutinas - Ad Benedictus, ant.

Maria sedens secus pedes Domini audiebat verbum illius.

Ad II Vesperas - Ad Magnificat, ant.

Optimam partem elegit sibi Maria, quae non auferetur ab ea in aeternum.

---

ORATIO

Propitiare, Domine, famulis tuis, et clementer gratiae tuae super eos dona multiplica, ut, spe, fide et caritate ferventes, semper in mandatis tuis vigili custodia perseverent. Per Dominum...

Local Flavor

My local paper has run a few AP articles on Summorum Pontificum bringing the confusion closer to home. Hence, this response from a local pastor, worthy of a quick read.

Latin Antiphons and Closing Prayer for the Fifteenth Sunday of the Year (Cycle C)

Ad I Vesperas - Ad Magnificat, ant.

Diliges Dominum Deum tuum ex toto corde tuo et proximum tuum sicut teipsum.

Ad Laudes matutinas - Ad Benedictus, ant.

Samaritanus quidam iter faciens, venit secus illum qui inciderat in latrones, et videns eum misericordia motus est et curavit vulnera eius.

Ad II Vesperas - Ad Magnificat, ant.

Quis tibi videtur proximus fuisse illi, qui incidit in latrones? Et ait illi: Qui fecit misericordiam in illum. Vade et tu fac similiter.

---

ORATIO

Deus, qui errantibus, ut in viam possint redire, veritatis tuae lumen ostendis, da cunctis qui christiana professione censentur, et illa respuere, quae huic inimica sunt nomini, et ea quae sunt apta sectari. Per Dominum...

Where Have I Heard This Before...?

With obeisance to Fr. Z., I must direct your attention to what the infamous Sister Joan Chittister has to say about Summorum Pontificum.

Now, I know I've heard all of this somewhere before...

Ah, yes, that was it.

Or maybe it was the old people at the local diner complaining that they missed the early bird special (while the poor young girl behind the podium tries to explain that this diner never had such a special, but they must be thinking of another establishment).

And then there's this guy as well. What drama! I don't know whether the performance in the video above or the one in this article is more over-done. I have to agree with Mark Shea that "[t]here's a jittery totalitarianism behind such sentiments."

But I guess these are growing pains. And the new document from the CDF today is getting as much a lashing in the media as the former one. The popular press wants to make it out that the Vatican has dealt a one-two punch to all that the Council accomplished for ecumenism. But I think that we're seeing some movement in exactly the true Spirit behind the documents of the Second Vatican Council. And I think I'll say more about that tomorrow. For now, I'm still trying to digest: it's been a busy couple of weeks for the Holy See and St. Blog's.

Summorum Pontificum Round-up

Round-Up

Since my two cents would not really add anything to the discussion, and since I've already set forth my (no count, take-it-with-a-grain-of-salt) opinion, I have here selected a handful of resources that have helped me in researching the new document motu proprio data yesterday by the Holy Father.

--- I recommend checking out Jimmy Akin's commentary on the document itself with consideration of its legal weight: the first full-length, educated review available.

--- I also recommend that proponents of a wider usage of the Old forms acquaint themselves (for the first time, or again if necessary) with Father Z's "rulez."

--- I'm sure we're all avid readers already, but perhaps have missed the newest newsletter from the Bishop's Committee on the Liturgy, which has a piece of interest. [Oh, to have been a fly on the wall at the drafting of that article...]

--- A good friar from the Order of Preachers offers a hypothetical consideration of how the newest legistlation may be undermined here.

--- Amy Welborn gives a nice little catechesis in her Motu Proprio Tip Sheet.

--- And Father Finigan has his own round-up with some other useful links.

UPDATE - 10 July 2007

--- I missed this, but of course it's always worth checking out what Father Neuhaus has to say.

The Two Cents I Said I Wasn't Going to Throw In

With everything that has been said and is currently circulating around Saint Blog's and in the Catholic press, I think only two points are worth emphasizing still one more time on these pages, to wit:

(I) We need to pray for our Holy Father, for our Bishops, for our Pastors, and for the entire Church, particularly in the Latin Rite, and this our prayer embracing the true spirit of the Sacred Council which extolled the Liturgy as the "source and summit" of our life and faith (Lumen Gentium 11; c.f. CCC 1324). In other words, we may not underestimate the importance of this matter or see it to be peripheral or inconsequential simply because there is a minimal likelihood of our being directly effected by these decrees. The Church lives and works as a unified Body and what touches any members resonates throughout the whole. The Holy Father's own words underline the importance which he gives to this matter: that should be enough of an endorsement for us to give it our due attention in prayer.

(II) In addition to our remembrance of this matter in prayer, we should do our part to work towards the achievement of the Holy Father's wishes: joining real work to our prayers will make them all the more worthy a sacrifice. The primary work which we can do now is to study the document itself, to engage fruitful debate and discussion regarding various interpretations and (I must add) translations, and to familiarize ourselves even more with the wonderful unity and continuity of the Liturgical Tradition of the Church. Summorum Pontificum emphasizes the ancient relation between the "lex orandi" and the "lex credendi": we need to honestly evaluate our knowledge of the latter in light of our comprehension of the former, and seek answers where we fall short, with a docile humility and with a true eagerness to "own the mystery."

Let us tread this path faithfully together, regardless of divergence of opinions, in the confident hope that all travail will lead to fruitful harmony and that our own efforts in prayer and study will be for our own good, for the good of all God's Holy Church, and - as always - ad majorem Dei gloriam.

Latin Antiphons and Closing Prayer for Fourteenth Sunday of the Year (Cycle C)

Ad I Vesperas - Ad Magnificat, ant.

Messis quidem multa, operarii autem pauci. Rogate ergo Dominum messis, ut mittat operarios in messem suam.

Ad Laudes matutinas - Ad Benedictus, ant.

In quamcumque domum intraveritis, primum dicite: Pax huic domui. Et requiescet super illam pax vestra.

Ad II Vesperas - Ad Magnificat, ant.

Gaudete et exsultate, quia nomina vestra scripta sunt in caelis, dicit Dominus.

---

ORATIO

Deus, qui in Filii tui humilitate iacentem mundum erexisti, fidelibus tuis sanctam concede laetitiam, ut, quos eripuisti a servitute peccati, gaudiis facias perfrui sempiternis. Per Dominum...

New Project Announcement

My long-time readers will know from previous entries that I try, whenever possible, to pray the office from the Latin editio typica altera of 2000. There are two primary reasons for this: first, the Latin forms of the proper prayers are richer than the translations given in our English edition; and second, there is a complete set of antiphons provided for the Sundays of the year coinciding with the three-year lectionary cycle, whereas the English translation is from the older edition which only has a single antiphon for each of the Gospel canticles.

Occasionally, when pinched for time, I make use of the Latin ediiton in a supplemental way, simple taking the Gospel antiphon and the prayer text from there, while praying everything else in English (and I have found nothing in the rubrics to suggest this to be improper, but am open to correction). I have found find this practice to be very fruitful and to provide a richness to my celebration of the liturgy on Sundays which is lacking when I simply use the English edition.

This evening, as I prayed Vespers, reflecting upon the Holy Father's letter given motu proprio this morning, I decided that I wanted to share this richness and that this site provides me with a medium for doing so. So, as a service to my readers who pray the breviary, or for any one who might be interested, I am going to try to provide each weekend the antiphons for First and Second Vespers and for Morning Prayer, as well as the closing prayer. Perhaps people who find the Latin breviary too pricy or superfluous to their real needs will find this small helping to hit the spot.

I am preparing these a few weeks in advance so all I have to do is post them as each date rolls around. I will try to have them on the site each week by Saturday morning so that people can print them out and clip them inside their breviaries if they wish.

As always, questions and comments are welcome. The posts in this project will all be filed under "breviary" for easy access.

Motu Appropinquabit

Around Saint Blog's there's all sorts of buzz about the motu proprio on the handling of the Ecclesia Dei indult. You can find it all sorts of places.

I only want to point out what I've found exceptional: Jeff Miller's take on a mad-lib for how one might construct a newspaper article in the mainstream (and madly liberal) media covering this event. However, that post brings to mind one of the serious concerns that many have about this impending release (and numbered amongst those concerned are many in favor the letter): worries, namely, that the media spin and the gossip on this subject may wreak havoc on some of the faithful and our shepherds. It is, therefore, with my tongue planted firmly away from my cheek that I endorse Father Z's recommendation of a novena leading up to the anticipated release date on July 7.

Anyone who knows me very well probably doesn't wonder what I think about this matter. One person asked me recently whether I approved of the Pope "letting priests say the Latin Mass again." The lady got a long answer, and to the question she actually asked rather than the one I presume she intended to ask (although she eventually got that, too). I carefully explained that I've attended the Latin Mass (i.e., the Latin rite liturgy as approved by the Church) every Sunday of my life and in recent years, even oftener. To the corrective, "I meant, in Latin," I responded with more cheek about Sacrosanctum Consilium and... well, you know, that old song. [Gregorian Chant?] Finally, I got around to saying what I thought about the relaxation of the governance of the usage of the old Missal. And now you might be wondering the same...

[Pregnant pause for suspense.]

Tonight, I was flipping through the channels and I came across something which interested me on the History Channel. It was the show Modern Marvels, which I usually enjoy, and the episode was all about cheese! Needless to say, I set the DVR to record this momentous hour so that I can savour it many times over.

I happen to like cheese. I think it is vastly superior to many other pleasures in which modern people indulge. To many in our contraceptive culture, however, cheese is incomprehensible. And I can understand this intuition, somewhat. Cheese begins with milk, which is wholesome enough: but it curdles. And curdled milk is the building block of cheese, once all the whey's been drained away. Your simplest cheese only needs a bit of good enzymatic bacterial reaction, some curdled milk, and a good shaking off of liquid. This is probably the form discovered by the ancients: and it's no wonder that it disgusts some. All you need to do is witness its production, or smell the process up close, and you might need some therapy to regain a taste for your favorite cheddar. But cheese is not merely corrupted milk. It is milk upon which art has been practiced. Milk is the white canvas: cheese is beauty rendered thereupon. And, as with all art (what Dante called "the grandson of God"), cheese is made in the likeness of man.

Men from all different cultures make all different cheeses. Chesterton, in one of his most brilliant essays, celebrates this wonder. Cheese tells a story. It tells of the land it came from, and can tell a lot about its makers. Cows grazing through dandelion fields will give the weed's inimitable flavor to their milk - and that flavor can be enhanced when translated into cheese. A cheese might kiss with the sweetness of clover or bite like proud rosemary, depending on ol' Bessie's caprices. And it was artful monks who first began to put the truest human signatures on cheese. They began with beers and brines and bacteria baths to train their cheeses to sing even more wonderful symphonies, and the art has continued to develop even to this day. And as with all arts, there are perversions, such as placing it in a canister under pressure to be "eezily" squirted.

Ah, cheese...

But... weren't we talking about the liturgy?

Well - I reply - haven't we been?

I think it a reverent enough comparison: the different rites of the Church's liturgy are like cheese. Good cheeses mind you. It would be uncharitable to infer from the above that I consider any major ritual adapted by the Church to be analogous to the "perversions" to which I referred. Rather, I would say that any basic cheese might be whipped and shoved ignobly into a can; and so might any rite be abused, and one could whip through the Tridentine Mass and can it into 20 minutes, with less reverence than a football game, just as easily as one might do so with the Novus Ordo.

Cheeses of different countrysides and different ages (rudimentary differences), embellished with all sorts of artful nuances (ostensible differences), combine to provide, in whole and tandem, a wonderfully variegated experience of the same essential substance. At two levels does cheese suffer impoverishment: first, when the artfulness of practice wears off and cheese is done without due care and devotion, and proper crafty adornment; second, when even choice becomes too limited and the rich variety available to the famished cheesemonger is made unavailable for no good reason.

I think an impoverishment might happen along similar lines in liturgy and ritual, at two corresponding levels. The former is the more serious: it is an abuse of the essential matter, however it comes translated into the hands of the custodian whose job it is to "celebrate" the substance with beautiful adornment and devoted practice. But I think that it is an impoverishment, as well, to have unnecessary limitation on a legitimate construction of the Church's rich tradition.

That's what I think: about cheese and about liturgy. I could have put it all more succinctly had I remembered the aphorism that everything we need to know, we learn in our earliest years. For I remember feeling, when all was said and done, that there was a moral lesson to be gleaned from the song about the farmer and his friends in the dell: it is sad when the cheese stands alone.

Liturgical Confusion

DISCLAIMER: Comparisons will be made in the following article between the 1975 ICEL translation of the Liturgy of the Hours and the 2000 Editio Typica Altera. I acknowledge that these are different editions, and only wish to clear up discrepencies as they pertain to the celebration of the office today (2007). The original oversights or ambiguities might be the fault of the ICEL translators or the programmers of the older Latin edition: having no access to the latter, I withhold any judgement on that matter. My purpose here is simply to shed light upon the Ordo's plan of the hours in 2007 given a comparison between the current Latin rubrics and the version we have translated into English. END DISCLAIMER


Now with that messy business behind us, let us begin.

The old agage is: Say the BLACK, do the RED. Most priests and seminarians have heard the urban legend/joke about the priest who gets up at his first Mass and says "Then the priest, facing the people, extends his hands and greets all present... (etc.)." Sometimes, however, this can be confusing work.

Let's consider first the notation, in red, on page 493 of the ICEL Volume I Breviary:

Where the solemnity of the Epiphany is celebrated on the Sunday between January 2 and January 8 [as is the case this year], the office of the Second Sunday after Christmas is not used. After the Epiphany is celebrated, the office is given on 385-393, with the proper parts on 575ff, unless Sunday occurs on January 7 or 8, in which case Ordinary Time begins on the following day, the feast of the Baptism of the Lord being omitted. [Emphasis added]

Now, I was a bit confused.

I knew that we were celebrating the feast of the Baptism of the Lord on Monday, January 8. I knew also that the Epiphany was to be celebrated on Sunday, January 7. So, why the discrepancy in the red text?

I went to the Ordo in search of an answer. The Ordo is a book that Dioceses or regions publish with their specific adapations of the Roman Calendar, based on the plan formulated by the Bishops' Committee on the Liturgy. It is, in a sense, the "rule" for the celebration of the liturgy within a given Diocese. It's a trusty friend in times of confusion... except this time. This time, it only added to the confusion.

The Ordo contained no notation regarding the feast to be celebrated on the eighth, apart from the recognition that this was the case. There was, however, a note to this effect:

The days from January 2 to Epiphany in the Liturgy of the Hours need to be adjusted. The day marked "Monday" will be celebrated on Tuesday, the 2nd, and so on. [This is a paraphrase as I don't have my Ordo handy]

Ok, so let's get this straight. For the week between January 2 and Epiphany, where the Liturgy of the Hours gives days of the week, these days are to be disregarded. Instead, the series is to be taken as beginning on January 2nd, and continuing in date order, all the way until the weekend celebration of the solemnity. Thus, January 2 would be celebrated as "Monday between January 2 and Epiphany."

Thinking that I somewhat understood, I turned back to my Breviary to check out these days following the Octave of Christmas. To my dismay, I found that the Propers here were much as they were in Advent: in other words, the psalms were to be taken from the current day of the psalter. Note, it would be the current day.

Now, I was placed in a quandary. Granted, being the liturgical purist that I am, I'm the only lunatic who would give this two seconds' thought. But consider: Since we're pretending Tuesday is Monday in the Temporal (Proper of Seasons), should we also do that in the Psalter? Should the psalms come from Monday, Week 2, since the Proper is really "Monday between January 2 and Epiphany"; or, since the day is Tuesday, January 2, should the day of the Psalter be matched with that, notwithstanding the Propers?

I was just about disgusted. I knew that something was awry. I've known the Liturgy to be a pretty well-oiled machine. Something wasn't connecting here. I simply wanted to be praying the right thing. But it seemed that most people in the world would be celebrating Tuesday on Tuesday (how many people daily check their Ordo?) and I'd be praying out of synch. It wasn't comfort enough that I'd be praying "by the books," because the Ordo is ambiguous here. So, if I was going to tread thus out-of-step, I wanted to be sure it was for good reason. And in the back of my mind, the question regarding the Baptism of the Lord still lurked.

So, I ventured over to Catholic Answers Online Forums and posted a query. A very timely reply from an "AlexV" encouraged me to check out the Latin, if I had it. While this had occurred to me before, I dismissed the possibility that this would shed any light on this particular confusion. However, I was pleasantly surprised when I did crack open my Liturgia Horarum.

It turns out that, in the Latin edition, the day of the week is not given at all in the Temporal. Rather, the title of the day is "Die 2 Ianuarii." Period. No "Feria II." So, apparently, there's been a confusion attributing a "day of the week" in the same place in our English edition; the Latin provides for the liturgical flux where, like this year, the time between January 2 and Epiphany is almost, but not quite, a full week.

Hence, following the Latin, the plan of the Hours for this week is simple. This year, on Tuesday, January 2, the hours flow thus: first, the psalms from the current weekday in the psalter (the real weekday); then, the propers are taken from the day, beginning with January 2nd (which equates to the day marked "Monday of the week before Epiphany" in our English edition).

Encouraged by this enlightenment, I turned back a few pages to the Latin equivalent of the rubrical note about the Baptism of the Lord (the red text). This, too, was enlightening. Rather than trouble everyone with the Latin, I'll give my own rough translation below of the pertinent parts (compare this with the instruction [above] given in the current English edition):

In regions where the solemnity of the Epiphany of the Lord is celebrated on the Sunday between January 2 and 8, there will be no Second Sunday after Christmas... [The directive for how Epiphany will be celebrated, and the pages, is then given, but with the following proviso:] except when Sunday occurs on January 7 or 8, in which case the following day, the Office of the feast of the Baptism of the Lord is celebrated as indicated... [Everything not proper, it is noted, will come from Monday of the first week of the Psalter.] Feria III [i.e., Tuesday] follows, beginning ordinary time, Volume III.

Now, I was getting somewhere.

So, for January 2 through Epiphany, the weekdays of Psalter II are used and the Propers from the date (I've already crossed out "Monday" in my English breviary and changed it to January 2). Then, Epiphany on Sunday, followed by the Baptism as a feast, followed by Tuesday of Psalter I in ordinary time. Phew! What a work out.

But what gives? Why the confusion? I appealed again to my pal, AlexV, over at the Catholic Answers Forums and he had this to say:

Before 1979, if your country observed Epiphany on Sunday January 7 or January 8, your country omitted the Baptism entirely.

In 1979, JP II added the rubric that in such countries, the Baptism would be celebrated on Monday, January 8 or January 9.

Alex had some other interesting things to say about this rubrical issue that results from the transferral of the Epiphany from its traditional date: I won't trouble you with these. Suffice to say, after looking into it a bit further, I agree with his assessment: "It's a sloppy mess."

But anyhow, if there were any in the blogosphere as confused as I was about this upcoming week, hopefully this clarifies things a bit. As for me, I have another reason to love my Latin breviary - and another reason to be chagrinned about the transferral of feasts and such to accomodate our own calendar comforts. Most of all, though, I have a renewed appreciate for the beautiful and organic structure of our liturgy that we all too often take for granted. It's been a personal mission of mine for some time to help increase appreciation for liturgy. Who knows? Maybe this little peek into my own obsessions will encourage others to take up their own search for the intelligibility that can be read between the lines of all that red and black text.

The Divine Office

UPDATE: SEE BELOW.

Two of my favorite things about the Roman Catholic Church are the Divine Office and the Holy Office. The latter is, sadly, no longer in existence. The former, however, is still going strong; stronger than ever, thanks to Vatican II. Yes, I like the Liturgy of the Hours. I'd happily kiss Card. Bugnini's ring for his work on the revision of the Office, despite whatever quams I might have with other of his work.

One of the main reasons I like the Office is that it sanctifies the day, and does so liturgically. The celebration of the Mass is extended throughout the day by the interconnectivity of the readings and antiphons from the Hours and the Eucharistic Liturgy. The Divine Office is a valuable way of carrying the meaning of the Mass into your apostolate. And it upsets me that some of its value has been lost by none other than (you guessed it) the International Commission on English in the Liturgy. Yes, the Liturgy of the Hours is another of ICEL's less-than-greatest hits, and surprisingly it has not been mentioned during the recent months of hullabaloo over the Mass translation.

Now, first I must admit to knowing a lot less about the General Intruction on the LOH than I do about the GIRM. I must also admit to a certain ignorance as to what difference in jurisdiction the Bishops may have over the text of the Office or what instructions from Rome might cover this issue (does LA mention it, for example?)

That having been said, what I'm going to blog about is my personal impression of the superiority of the Latin L.O.H. compared to the English translation. Since I don't know who, ultimately, is responsible for this translation, please don't take me as being disobedient. Disclaimers done, let's get into it.

* * *

Today was the Sixteenth Sunday of Ordinary Time, Year B of the Sunday Lectionary Cycle. The Gospel at Mass today was about the Apostles returning to Jesus and speaking about all they had done. Afterwards, Jesus takes them off to a deserted place. But when he finds crowds in his deserted place, he is moved to teach them, who are "like sheep without a shepherd."

It should be noted that Years A and C are different. Last year, for example, on this Sunday, we heard from Jesus a series of parables about the kingdom of Heaven. Next year, we will hear about Mary choosing the better part.

Now, let's take a look in the Breviary for today. Remember how I said that the antiphons capitalize usually upon the message from the Gospel? Well, here are the three proper antiphons from this occasion (taken from the 1975 ICEL translation of the Liturgy of the Hours, Volume III):

Evening Prayer I: The kingdom of heaven is like yeast which a woman took and kneaded into three measures of flour until all the dough had risen.

Morning Prayer: He saw the great crowd and had pity on them, for they were like sheep without a shepherd.

Evening Prayer II: Mary has chosen the better part, and it shall not be taken from her.

Respectively, these antiphons correspond to the three years of the Lectionary Cycle. So, never will a year go by that at least one of the proper antiphons doesn't correspond to the Mass setting for the day.

But, the Latin has something quite different. It's a difference not of translation, really (although our English renderings are a tad weak). It's a difference of content. For, there, in the Latin, for each of these three "Hours," there are three separate antiphons: one for Year A, one for Year B, and one for Year C.

The Evening Prayer I antiphon in the English translation is really the Year A antiphon from Morning Prayer; the antiphon for Evening Prayer II is in its proper place, but is from Year C of the cycle.

So, what would we have read in today's liturgy had we prayed it in Latin? Let's take a look (and forgive me if my translations are not up to par, but my Cassell's is packed in a box in the attic for when I return to school.)

Evening Prayer I: Convenientes apostoli as Iesum, renuntiaverunt ei omnia quae egerant et docuerant. (Literally: The apostles, gathering together to Jesus, related to Him all which they had carried out and taught.)

Morning Prayer: Venite vos ipsi seorsum in desertum locum et requiescite pusillum, dicit Dominus. (Literally: Come, you, into a deserted place and rest a little, says the Lord.)

Evening Prayer II: Vidit Iesus multam turbam et misertus est super eos, quia erant sicut oves non habentes pastorem. (Literally: As above, in Morning Prayer - except that here Jesus is named (no pronoun) and I prefer "had compassion" to "pity" for misertus est.)

The difference is incredible. It really speaks for itself, with the antiphons carrying the message throughout the day.

* * *

So, now my question: does anyone know why this discrepancy? Someone out there with a better knowledge of liturgy. Has the editio typica been modified to include antiphons for each year and the new English version not yet prepared? To the best of my knowledge, the revision of 1980 (which made it to America 8 years later) didn't change the reading cycle, really, so I don't think that would have been a factor. And one final question: Has anything been said about retranslating the Breviary?

I will post more on this issue, because it perplexes me more the more I think about it. Now that I have noted the most obvious difference, you'll hear about the second most obvious difference next time: psalm prayers. And finally, we'll get into my quams with certain renderings of the text (mostly in the antiphons and prayers).

!!!UPDATE!!!

I have recieved an answer in the combox regarding some of my questions. Apparently, the first editio typica did not include the three-year antiphons. Still, I wonder how long we're waiting for the translation of the new edition. Perhaps I'll get a similar answer after I speak my quams about psalm-prayers. I'm going to stay away from strictly translational quibbles though, since I'm not sure of the two versions I'm comparing. I'm going to try to pick up an older latin breviary at the library at school when I visit on Friday.

English 102 & Liturgy 2006

Finally, as promised, the Domine, non sum dignus.... My previous post (Logic 101 & Liturgy 2006) really is sort of a prerequisite to this one, so if you haven't read it, you might want to check it out before continuing.

Imprimis: Much has been said, elsewhere on the web, about the Bishops' removal of "my soul" from the second portion of this invocation. I will not address that issue here, as all the bases seem to have been covered in what I have read, and I frankly don't see it as that big of an issue.

Now, down to business.

First, let's reproduce and break down - word for word - the original Latin phrase, as that will be beneficial. Domine, non sum dignus ut intres sub tectum meum... Which translates, word for word: Domine (Lord), non sum (not I am) dignus (worthy/fit) ut (that) intres (You might enter) sub tectum meum (under the roof of-me/my)...

Now, ICEL has rendered this phrase pretty well: "Lord, I am not worthy that you should enter under my roof." And, thankfully, the Bishops have carried this translation into their "White Book." (Huzzah!) But Amy, from Florida, doesn't get it. She's hurt, troubled, even losing her faith. See, she doesn't have a roof...

Please understand, I am sympathetic to the poor woman and her lack of understanding. She has somehow (I can't quite understand how) grown very emotionally attached to this phrase. And I do commisserate with her. But with the 1970s translator-terrorists who put her in this position, I do not.

This moment in the liturgy has always been one of my pet-peeves according to the 1970s translation. When I first read that the line was supposed to be a quote from the Centurian in Scripture, I looked up the encounter. Knowing nothing about Latin at the time, I saw there was a difference between the Centurian's phrase "Lord, I am not worthy that You should enter under my roof..." and the phrase we spoke in the Mass: "Lord, I am not worthy to receive You..." And the difference struck me quite profoundly. You could say that I felt the difference - as deeply, or more so, than Amy from Florida felt the meaning of the words she's been saying for the past 16 years of her life.

Having already, in a previous post, made it clear that I believe the Missal authors deliberately quoted Scripture here and that it falls outside of ICEL's competency to change that intention, I'd like to take a deeper look at the actual words of the phrase - in Latin, in the old translation, and in the new one. We can even pretend, hypothetically, that the phrase is not a quotation at all - that it was simply written by the authors of the Missal and that they invented the symbol of a "roof." My case will be the same: there is a deep, fundamentally different position being adopted by those who pray the Latin words and by those who pray the 1974 English abomination. And this difference can be shown through a study of the English structure of the sentence just as easily for those who don't know any Latin.

Let me get right down into my practical argument, so it might be easier to follow me.

When we pray this phrase, we are just about to "receive" the Lord in holy Communion. This is a profound mystery, that we are able to consume the Lord, Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity. This line of prayer should be, for all of us, a profound moment of contemplation and internal preparation for the Sacrament. Its words are thus very important, and say alot about what our disposition should be. Yet, there is a dichotomy between the original Latin and the currently-used English translation: they imply a different disposition. At least, to my mind, they do.

Take a look at the Latin phrase above, as I have broken it down. The word which I will be focusing on here will be the verb - intres. It is the most important word in the sentence, as it is in any sentence. A sentence requires a verb. Even if it is understood the verb must be there. The single-word sentence "no" really represents a verbal action of "being unwilling;" "Yes" means "I assent;" and when you answer a question with a noun or pronoun, there's always an "is," "am," or "are" understood. Verbs are the action. They are what really make our language. They are the realest parts of our expression because they, in a sense, have being. Anyway, this is besides the point. Just know that the verb here is important, too.

In Latin, verbs conjugate. They take on a different form in a sentence which indicates voice, number, person, and mood. The form intres comes from the verb intrare which means "to enter." Here, it is conjugated to the active voice singular second person, expressed in the subjunctive mood: "you may enter," understood not permissively, but tentatively or potentially. Now, the phrase "you may enter" or "you might enter" is a literal translation of this verb; hence, it is well translated by the 2006 ICEL version: "... that You should enter..." where the "that/should" combination sets up the same subjunctive mood as the word "might" would do out of context.

On the other hand, the 1974 ICEL version not only changes the verb itself - the action used - but it changes nearly everything else about the verb too. Let's take a look: "... to receive you..." The ICEL people place an infinitive into the sentence to relate back to the acting verb: "Am." But "I am... to receive you" by no means translates intres, roof or no roof. Rather, it is an expression of passive voice singular first person in the indicative mood. What on the surface appears to be a small manipulation to get rid of the "roof" has in fact changed the entire thrust and focus of the sentence. It now centers on the first person, rather than the second person (or, if you will, the Second Person.) What was a matter of Christ's volition in "entering under our rooves" has become a matter focused on me, on what I am doing.

So, scripture aside, we can see that there is something fundamentally different being expressed here. And, personally, I think that the difference is important. Our act of "receiving" is a response to an action which Christ has first undertaken. There can be no receiving unless He first comes to us. This moment of prayer provides us an opportunity to recognize our unworthiness, yes, but also to reflect on the free gift of God's only Son - on Him coming to us, freely, of His own action, both in the Incarnation and through the Paschal Mystery.

Now, people might take issue with my theological leanings on this point - and frankly, I don't care. I can afford to not care because, for whatever reason, Rome has chosen to put these words there, and now the Bishops have accepted an actual translation of those words. I'm merely pointing out that there are several ways in which translation can "differ" from an original, and who are we to say on which level the original was meant to communicate? Should we take the risk? Here, in this moment, Rome has willed to put into our minds the words (and the attitude) of the Centurian, humbly recognizing his unworthiness to have Christ come to him. And technically, our old translation has done a lot more than simply change the words of this Centurian - it has changed the entire mood and attitude of the sentence.

People might say that I am reading too much into this. But I don't believe that I am. Words are important, in any language. If I were a storyteller, and I wrote that "John threw me the ball," I would be irritated if someone rewrote my story to say "I caught the ball thrown by John." This irritation would not be merely the hatred of passive voice which gradeschool English teachers plant in their students (this tactic annoys me actually, as the passive voice is a valuable tool in writing.) My irritation would be deeper than that. Because "I caught the ball" and "John threw the ball" really do express different shades of reality, even if they reference the same situation objectively. In one expression, John is acting. In another, I am the main actor. And perhaps it's important to the storyteller than the action come from the Second Person.

Bottom line: in English, as it Latin, it matters how we say it, not just what we say. I thank God that, by the grace of the USCCB and the reformed ICEL, we'll be able to say here what the Centurian really said - and say it how we were intended by Rome to say it.

English 101 & Liturgy 2006

Let's get right down to business, here. For a quick review of the proposed amendments to the Order of the Mass for use in America, please click here.

As I read through these amendments, I must say that I was - by and large - happily relieved. They were not quite as incisive as I thought they might be.

That having been said, something in my old English-teacher-wannabe blood was stirred up by certain changes, and I decided to vent a couple of these to see if I'm crazy in my observations. So, please respond.

1) First, the issue of flowery language. Ours is a beautiful language, despite what many say. This is the language of Chaucer and Spencer, Shakespeare and Marlowe, Donne, Keats, Byron, and Shelley. It is quite capable of communicate truth in a powerful, evocative way.

Now, I'll admit to being a bit of a throwback. I'll occasionally ejaculate a "forsooth" here and there to keep conversation interesting. So, I happen to like the usage of "prithee" and "pray" in place of the overused "if you please." So, my only complaint with the change from "May I have your blessing, Father," from "Pray, Father, your blessing" is that it sounds more common, and I like my liturgy - and my language - a little on the flowery side. But this is one of those cases in which the usage that was cut from the translation is, forsooth, a bit outdated, and I'm willing to admit that. But in the context of the other acoutrements of Mass, like incense and Gregorian Chant (because those are used everywhere in the US, aren't they?) does "Pray, Father" really seem all that out of place? But I digress...

2) I'm a little more convicted about my second complaint with the adapted translation. In the first Eucharistic prayer, the ICEL phrase Mother of our God and Lord, Jesus Christ has been adapted to say "Mother of God and our Lord, Jesus Christ." The translation currently in use (1974) renders the phrase "Mother of Jesus Christ, Our Lord and God." Now, I have to say, I like the 1974 version better here, although I could tolerate the new ICEL translation. I do not understand the alteration made by the USCCB. The reason for ICEL's re-rendering of the phrase seems to be that they wanted to remain closer to the original Latin word order: Genetricis euidem Dei et Domini nostri Iesu Christi. The USCCB adaptation, rather than resorting to the earlier ICEL translation, seems to want to remain closer to the Latin word order as well. What I don't understand is why the Bishops made any change at all.

The problem is that saying "our God and Lord Jesus Christ" as opposed to "God and our Lord Jesus Christ" applies the modifier across the copula. That is, God and Lord Jesus Christ are obviously One and the Same, ours. This is also captured by the 1974 version, "Jesus Christ, our Lord and God." However, the new Bishop's version leaves a little wiggle room by limiting the modifier "our" to the "Lord Jesus Christ." Thus, one could more easily be confused by the wording to think that Mary is Mother of God (one entity) AND our Lord Jesus Christ (another entity.)

Now, I know what your thinking: this is splitting hairs. Obviously, we profess faith that Jesus Christ is God. It is explicity stated in several other parts of the Mass. No one is in danger of drawing this inference. And of course, I'm not accusing the Bishops of deliberately changing this phrase to theologically alter its meaning. What I'm saying is that a needless alteration of the English word-order affects the phrase in such a way as to leave room for doubt, theologically. Why take the chance? What is the reason? To my ear and eye, the ICEL translation has just as workable a cadence and proclaimability as does the adapted form. Strictly speaking, the USCCB has captured the Latin word order more closely than ICEL - but they took liberty upon the word order in several other places where ICEL was closer, so I doubt that this was their justification for the change. So, again, I might be splitting hairs and talking about something which is 1/1,000,000th of a real chance. But even that little chance seems unnecessary when it could so easily be avoided. From the standpoint of the English language, and comparing the phrase to the original Latin, I can hypothesize no reason for having altered the ICEL version... anybody have any ideas?

3) My next complaint is with the very next alteration made by the Bishops, and is, coincidentally, a little more severe of a complaint. Again, it's something of splitting hairs, but like the previous case I can see no reason for why the change has been made. ICEL's phrase counted among the flock of those you have chosen has been made to say "counted among the flock you have chosen." But these English phrase really say two rather different thing. Now, here again, maybe Liturgiam Authenticam or some other source is a justification for trying to render the theological "spirit" of a phrase, or whatever, but I'm trying to play a non-theological, English-enthusiast role in this criticism, and I merely want to point out the rather significant difference in these renderings. The first speaks of individuals having been chosen to be members of a flock. It implies that each sheep has been selected individually. The latter phrase, on the other hand, generalizes by cutting the specifying genitive phrase out of the sentence. In this second version, the Bishop's adaptation, a "flock" has been chosen. The individual sheep might never have been looked at in this choice.

Now, as with our last example, in this case we seem to have broken even with the 1974 version. The Latin phrase "in electorum tuorum iubeas grege numerari" was, then, translated "count us among those you have chosen." They missed the grege. Well, now we have the grege back, but have missed the electorum, the "those." I don't mean to say, again, that the Bishops have tried to take a theological swipe at our "personal relationship with Jesus Christ" by this removal. But I do wonder why the removal, since it takes out a turn of phrase that could easily be used to catechize on that point which was so highlighted in the Council. We are individually chosen and called to be Christ's sheep. The Latin says so. The new ICEL translation says so. The adaptation, really, does not. Any thoughts?

4) Now my English hat is really on. Why, pray, has ICEL's "...dwelling in unapproachable light; yet you, the one good and the source of life..." been changed to say "...dwelling in unapproachable light. Yet you, the one good and the source of life...?" That's a rhetorical question, by the way; you don't have to answer it. I'll answer it. Call this just another chapter in a long and sad story called The Death of the Semicolon by Americo Mediocrito. I love semicolons; I love using semicolons; if semicolons were people, I would hang out with semicolons.

Why? Because semicolons are interesting. Who would you rather go to the bar with - a period, a comma, a semicolon? A period would be boring and just sit there in silence; a comma would speak in fits and starts, yawning frequently; but a semicolon would just ramble on and on until you had to beg him to shut up. At least he'd be interesting.

I have no real complaint with this phrase as it will be spoken in the Mass; my complaint is with the reason for its having been rewritten. Supposedly, the period in place of the semicolon "was adopted, in order to shorten the opening sentence for the purposes of easier proclaimability." Well, hell, I don't know how. A semicolon does break a "sentence," in the sense that is separates one complete thought from another; but it does not do so with the divorcing abruptness of a period. I'd like to know how the Bishops were intending upon proclaiming this sentence differently, had the semicolon been left in place, because it seems that they don't understand what that poor little punctuation mark does. I shudder to think of celebrants doing a confused pirouette in midsentence. Perhaps the change was better, all things considered. I just hope that I won't get rammed in my car by someone from the BCL speeding through a "yield" sign on a highway ramp...

That is all of my chagrin with the current translation. I know I promised you a word about the "Domine, non sum dignus..." and I will not reneg on my promise. However, my say on that will not be a complaint against the action of the BCL, but rather a defense, a-la Father Z's post, against the old version of this phrase, from a standpoint of English. It will hope to show why the "roof" is a necessary piece of this phrase, in English, if it is to have the full meaning of the original and a speakable, workable structure as a sentence. As such, I will put this in a separate post. Stay tuned!

Logic 101 & Liturgy 2006

This post is really an afterthought. While reading Gerald's expose on the amendments made to the MR by the USCCB, I decided that I wanted to address a few issues from the perspective of a passionate English student. One of these issues involves the "Domine, non sum dignus..." (O Lord, I am not worthy). However, I then found Father Z.'s post on that same phrase, answering an objection from a laywoman in Florida, and I realized that I might use a separate post to anticipate objections that will be raised in my treatment above. (NB: I see that, since then, Father has treated the issue in more detail. Maybe my own treatment here will be redundant, as I have not read his subsequent posts.)

Having said all that, let me try to set this up. In my later post, I am going to hypothetically consider removing the phrase "under my roof" from the proposed translation, and show, from an English student's perspective, why any way of translating the Latin with this removed would be unworkable, impractical, and substantively changed in meaning when rendered in English. This hypothetical treatment is an "extra step," beyond the argument that Father Z. makes, which is really the only argument necessary. In other words, my hypothetical treatment is illustrative of a different point, trying to prove a separate matter of principal. It should be inferred that I think there is any sort of flaw to the way that Father Z. treats the issue. But, that having been said, I'd like to anticipate an objection that some might raise to Father Z.'s argument. I suspect that a (false) accusation of hypocrisy might be made. And it is this accusation that I will take up now.

Let's move into the substance of the post, now.

The woman in Florida objects that she doesn't know what "Lord, I am not worthy that you should enter under my roof" means. Father Z. answers her rather well. In doing so, he explains the meaning of the phrase by appealing to the Scriptural source from which it comes. (I should note that I have made no attempt to analyze any Greek sources from which the English/Latin translations take this phrase - I hope, anyway, to show that such analysis would be superfluous to necessity, anyway.)

Now, certain people familiar with the backstory of the ICEL translation and its debate in the BCL might raise an objection to this appeal which Father Z. makes. In order to understand their objection, a brief review of the backstory is in order. It involves a similar argument being used by Bishop Trautman, the chair of the BCL. If you all remember, Bishop Trautman took issue with the phrase "precious chalice" in the Latin text of the Missale Romanum. His argument was that this was an imposition upon the Scriptural source. In three Gospels, we have Jesus taking a "cup" - not a precious chalice. So, why render the phrase praeclarum calicem in the Missal?

Now, on the surface, these appeals to Scripture might seem the same thing to some people. Why, then, does the translation going to Rome reject the Scriptural "cup" but maintain the "under my roof"? How can Father Z. and others use the same argument which they rejected from Bishop Trautman months ago? Isn't this cafeteria translationism?

Well, the answer is no. And the reason is that it's not the same argument. Let's analyze the two to show why.

The syllogism which our objectors might set up in order to illustrate their accusation for hypocrisy would look something like this:

1) Bishop Trautman's appeal to Scripture has been taken by conservatives to be an invalid in relation to wording used in the Roman Missal.
2) Father Z. argument is an appeal to Scripture.
3) Hence, Father Z.'s argument is, by conservative assessment, an invalid argument in relation to the wording used in the Roman Missal.

The so-called "middle term" in this argument is the vaguely rendered "appeal to Scripture." But the apparent similarity of the two arguments is misleading, and I will show why the above syllogism, valid though it may be, rests upon inferences that have been made imprecisely.

"Appealing to scripture" is not, in all cases, the same thing. The appeal takes on a specific nature. In Bishop Trautman's case, the appeal is argumentative. In Father Z's, it is explanatory. Bishop Trautman wants to make a case for the 1970 ICEL "correcting" the words of the Roman Missal. He challenges, in his argument, the authority of the Missal's authors to quote and paraphrase Scripture at their own discretion, placing that authority in the hands of the translating body of ICEL. Father Z., on the other hand, upholds Rome's authority to quote and paraphrase Scripture as She sees fit, and simply tries to show the fittingness of one place of quotation.

It matters very much here that Bishop Trautman is arguing against the wording of the Missal and Father Z. is arguing for the wording. Had the word in the Missal been "cup," then Bishop Trautman could easily appeal to Scripture to argue why ICEL may not render the phrase "precious chalice." Why the difference? Because, in the case that the Missal had said "cup," then that would be because the Missal had been intended to say "cup." And, likely, this intention would have been based upon Scripture having first said "cup." But since the Missal did not say "cup," we can infer that the authors did not intend to duplicate the Biblical language. And Rome's intention is only authority to which we can appeal for what goes into the Missal.

So the more precise way of rendering, in a phrase, Father Z's argument, is NOT to say that it is an "appeal to Scripture." But rather, his argument is based upon an appeal to an intentional quotation, by Rome, from the Scriptures.
To boil it down to the basics: the difference in the appeal relates to what the Roman Missal is, and what is the intention of the Missal "authors" in a certain passage. Given this more precise formula of the phrase, the middle term of our syllogism above ceases to exist - there is nothing to relate the major premise to the minor.

To use a little less "logic," and a little more common sense, just listen to it in regular, plain wording:

Father Z. says: "In this place, Rome intends to quote Scripture; and look was Scripture says."

Bishop Trautman said: "In this place, Rome DOES NOT intend to quote Scripture; and look what Scripture says."

Father Z's reference is appropriate and relevant - Bishop Trautman's is not.

And therein lies the difference.

Now, having covered these bases, I'm going to put on my English-teacher-wannabe hat, and approach some issues from a bit of a different perspective.

Daring Dew Would Be Derring-Do

Or, so think the US Bishops who voted that the word "dew" would stay out of the lines invoking the Holy Spirit. Rocco has the scoop.

This is one of the many proposed "adaptations" that were made to the newly accepted translation of the Order of the Mass. For those of us who need help with translating complicated terms, like "substance" and, er, "dew," apparently: the term "adaptation" seems to be a variously-connotative one which might mean anything from a meaningful change taking into account the needs of the flock to a useless dumbing-down of liturgical wording.

The adaptation of the word "dew" comes despite a specific reference by the ICEL Chairman, Bishop Roche, during his comments yesterday morning:

It has been objected that this translation ‘does not resonate or communicate with contemporary Christians’. But surely, dew still exists. I noticed an advert on the street yesterday for a drink called Mountain Dew! Dew has a unique set of natural and scriptural associations: it speaks of freshness, new beginning, water (and hence life), beauty, descent from above (and hence divine blessing), and manna (Exodus 16:13-14) (and hence Eucharist). It still appears on the ground in the morning as it did in the time of Moses on the journey through the desert. American people know what dew is - rather better, I suspect, than Europeans, since so many of you get out of bed earlier than we do!

Apparently, his witticisms were lost upon the conference, who nixed the rich reference from the text they'll be sending to Rome.

One wonders, why the deletion? Did the reference interfere with the communication of some doctrine? Would people begin attributing a role of "Divine Sprinkler" to the Third Person of the Trinity?

No, I imagine instead that it has something to do with the general depravation in our culture of meaningful expression. I'm not accusing the Bishops of being culprits in this action, per se; rather, they are put in a tough position by a trend that is perhaps beyond their control.

Consider recent years' publications of Shakespeare in "common language." Pardon me, but I thought Shakespeare was already considered as writing in modern English?

But apparently, there's no good in saying "But soft, what light through yonder window breaks" when you can just as easily get your point accross by saying "Hey, I think Julie's light is on!"

But since when has liturgy been primarily about getting a point accross? Did David spare the Lord the best poetry when writing the psalms for fear that advanced generations might not "get it?" Did Palestrina and Tallis decide that two part harmony might be better, considering you can't hear the words as well when you layer eight voices atop one another?

No, thank God. And as for the extraneousness of the word "dew" - I hope the Holy See has still a soft spot for poetry like I do...