New translation is more consistent with language of Catholic doctrine

Father John A. Kiley
Posted

A public television channel recently featured a presentation on the Woodstock Folk Festival, undoubtedly the iconic event of the late 1960s.

After footage of the youthful assemblage in upstate New York, a couple, then in their late teens and now in their late fifties, was asked their assessment of the Woodstock experience. They happily rated Woodstock a success since all the goals of that gathering have been realized. Realized indeed! Thanks to the Woodstock generation, sex, drugs and rock ‘n roll are now common to the contemporary American lifestyle – but more for woe than for weal. It has been said that one’s attitude toward the 1960s is an ink blot test revealing one’s philosophy of life. If one is heartened by thoughts of the 60s, then one is certainly liberal and probably votes Democrat. If one is appalled when considering the 60s, one is clearly conservative and most likely votes Republican.

Offering a similar insight, an English historian lately labeled the 1960s “the locust years.” Oliver Rackham wrote, “It was the period when a hungry and powerful simplicity, a rationalist clearing away of the mess, was imposed on the world, when logos was substituted for mythos, the rational fact for the imaginative idea, something rather black and reasonable for the complex and wavering story.” Like efficient locusts, the 1960s devoured two thousand years of Christian tradition, centuries of Western civilization and decades of middle class respectability, leaving in their wake today’s post-modern individual, devoid of tradition, bereft of ritual, deprived even of manners. It was out of this stripped-down, economy-model, jeans-and-tee-shirt culture that the former English translation of the Roman Rite was spawned in the late 60s and early 70s.

As gilded chalices gave way to ceramic cups and embroidered chasubles yielded to knitted stoles, the language of Catholic worship, too, strove for immediate comprehension rather than a gradual and deepening perception. What one heard was what one got. Mono-syllabic phrases did not challenge the worshipper to reflect on the deeper nuances and subtler distinctions of the Catholic faith. “One in being” does not have the same theological depth that “consubstantial” evokes. “Born” does not reveal the deeper mystery as well as “incarnate” does.” “I shall be healed” is certainly not as otherworldly as “my soul shall be healed.” These latter words are the phrases of faith, not simply the expressions of translators.

This past Sunday the American Catholic worshipping faithful heard the authentic cadences of the Roman Rite offered to the assembly and echoed by the assembly in words and phrases resurrected from the liturgical dust bin of the 1960s and 70s. Officially the church in America has praised the new translation for being more consistent with the time-honored rhythm of Catholic prayer and the perennial language of Catholic doctrine. Some of the Latinate words reintroduced to the English liturgy recall earnest theological confrontations by which the ancient Fathers of the Church strove for precise and comprehensive expressions to convey divinely revealed truths. Other re-worked phrases reflect the church’s loyal appreciation of the exact words of Scripture, inspired by the Spirit and penned by the sacred authors. A few vocal members of both clergy and laity have lamentably criticized the new translation as simply the interference of Rome in the business of America. They mourn the passing of the 1960s. “Hendrix and Joplin, my whole world is topplin’,” is their sad song. They should be more in tune with Huey Lewis and the News who reminded America long along that “it’s hip to be square.”

The church at Rome has wisely insisted that the English-speaking world liberate itself from the time-warp of 1960s simplicity and appreciate once again the authority of scriptural expression, the weight of Counciliar language, and the richness of liturgical turns of phrase. As the worshipping faithful finger the ritual response guides stuffed into their pew racks these coming months, let them thank God and Rome that the language promoted by the posters and tents and mud of Woodstock has given way to the terminology of Isaiah, Luke and Paul, and to the vocabulary of Nicea, Chalcedon and Ephesus.