Are TLM Catholics Elitists?

A Response to a Reader's Comment

I would like to offer a response to a lengthy comment that I received on my latest post, “The Liturgical Movement that is Needed: Part II.” I want to say that I appreciate this reader who, although very critical of my article, took the time to read something with which he does not agree and then took time to leave a detailed critique. I think that this opens a chance for a conversation, of sorts, between a defender of the Traditional Latin Mass and a defender of the Novus Ordo. Given how charged the “liturgical war” has become, I think it is good for both sides to engage and to try to understand the perspective of the other. I hope that I have done that.

Rather than try to respond point by point to the entire comment (which is some 1,500 words), I will instead offer a response in the form of one coherent post that will address what I take to be its main thrust.

Let me begin by recapping the main point of my previous post, which is that a liturgical movement in the broader sense is needed to lift up the culture and sustain widespread renewal. This liturgical movement must be rooted in the imagination. Great care must be taken to ensure that the imagination, especially of children, is being exposed to the good, true, and beautiful and that the symbols that surround us point toward reality and truth.

Proper liturgical living acknowledges the seriousness of life. Joy and mirth are a part of that seriousness, but at the right time and in the right way. An imagination that lives liturgically sees that life is hierarchical and deference is owed to those who outrank us, even as we show respect to all persons.

It is the imagination that gives us a sense of the seriousness of any particular occasion. We behave differently at a white-tablecloth restaurant than we do at McDonald’s. The décor and aesthetic as well as the rituals and manners of the waitstaff indicate to us how we ought to behave, and they color our experience. All of those “details,” rather, create the experience. We live it in the imagination.

Edmund Burke, writing in response to the violent bacchanalia in France on the heels of the Revolution of 1789, said that decorum, propriety, signs of honor and respect, and all ancient manners that dignified man and greased the wheels of life in society, are indeed “illusions,” but they are ones that are “necessary to cover the defects of our naked, shivering nature.”

The liturgy of the Mass could be interpreted in such a way. The prayers, genuflections, bows, kisses, chants, crossing of oneself, kneeling and then standing and then kneeling again, the sprinkling of holy water, the incensing, the washing of hands, not to mention the aesthetic of the church and the altar, the dress of the laity, the vestments of the priest—all of it conveys to the imagination what is going on. There is no other way to show it to our finite human minds. We are imaginative creatures. Reason can tell it to us, but imagination persuades us.

The liturgy of the Mass (or Divine Liturgy if you are in the Eastern Rite) sets the tone for civilization. It is the highest and most perfect expression of “liturgical living” and ought to act as a model for liturgical living in the broader sense. Whether we like it or not, the liturgy we attend impacts our imaginations. Therefore, I argue, we ought to be attending a liturgy in which the symbolism reflects the divine reality that is behind it. Most Novus Ordo parishes do not well convey this divine reality, I argue.

The general tenor at many Novus Ordo parishes (never do I categorically say all) is one of unseriousness. I speak from 30 years’ worth of experience at these parishes in many different cities across the United States. I could catalogue the liturgical abuses that I have witnessed and that gave me the general sense growing up that Catholicism was not a very serious religion. It took me many years to find my way into what I felt was the real heart of the Catholic faith, and it seemed to me that it had been hidden from me all those years. I discovered it in the Traditional Latin Mass. I could feel something distinctly different than anything I’d ever experienced.

The reader’s comment levels the charge of “spiritual elitism” at the Traditional Latin Mass goers. Imagine having discovered what you consider to be a gem, a spark in your spiritual life that you have not felt before, and a longing to grow closer to Christ because of it. Would you stay away from the liturgy that drew you in and nourished you? Is it “elitist” to choose what you consider to be of a higher quality, whether it be in literature, food, clothing, or anything else? “Put ye on therefore as the elect of God,” Paul says to the Colossians. He does not say, “don’t be a spiritual elitist!” And Christ, “Enter through the narrow gate,” in the gospel of Matthew.

In this democratic age, the charge of “elitism” is a smear if ever there was one. But maybe we need more elitism, if by that we mean discrimination in favor of that which is better—not simply thinking that we are better for choosing it.

Which brings me to the differences that I have noticed between many Novus Ordo priests and Traditional Latin Mass priests. At our mass, our priests have, on more than one occasion, reminded us not to think that we are any better than anyone else for attending the Latin mass. Do not become prideful, they have cautioned. This is in keeping with their general message that we must always be on guard against sin and that we must strive hard to attain the spiritual life. Their sermons are always challenging, spiritually enlightening, and catechetical. I can say that this has been my experience without exception.

At the Novus Ordo, in my experience, it is hit or miss. I’ve heard some great homilies and others that have made me want to get up and leave. My general impression has been one of unseriousness, which is my major complaint against the Novus Ordo.

I would like to take up the reader’s first and most serious charge that what I have written is “among the least charitable discussions of the NO liturgy I’ve read in some time.” To accuse someone of a lack of charity is, for us Christians anyway, a serious thing. It implies that part of my intent in writing the piece was to malign or shame or indulge in my own sense of superiority or something else that is not the seeming purpose of the article, to offer the theory that liturgies that do not appear to be taken very seriously are harmful to the imagination and to civilization.

Nowhere in my article do I mention anything about the people who attend the Novus Ordo parishes. My discussion is strictly about the tone of most Novus Ordo parishes, which I base on my own upbringing, years of experience, and research about the Novus Ordo.

This reader comments: “currently NO alternative liturgies in the west are masses for spiritual elitists. People who are actively seeking to substantially inconvenience themselves to be more reverent.” This seems to me to be an ad hominem attack on the people who attend the TLM. I have to wonder if this reader has ever been to a TLM.

I do not think that the people who drive great distances are actively seeking to inconvenience themselves. Who would do such a thing? They do it because they feel that they have to, whether it be to form their children in the faith or for their own sakes or both. People used to walk for hours to get to a Mass, and they didn’t view it as an inconvenience. People who love the traditional Mass are, at least in my experience, happy to be able to help celebrate a reverent Mass at a beautiful church.

I also think that this reader gets its wrong when he says that these people go to such lengths “to be more reverent.” I don’t believe that they see it as being about them. They could be equally reverent at a Novus Ordo. Reverence is an internal disposition, after all. I think that they travel to the Latin Mass because they want a priest who is reverent and who takes the utmost care with the liturgy. They want the peace in their souls that that provides. And in this world, that kind of peace is priceless.

Many of my close friends attend the Novus Ordo Mass, and what I have written is nothing that I am ashamed of or would retract. Many of these friends would like to see greater reverence in the Novus Ordo liturgy. It seems to me that this particular reader would also like to see greater reverence in the Novus Ordo. He mentions “the reverence-drain” from Novus Ordo parishes when reverent folks pick up and leave for the Traditional Latin Mass, “depriving their local parish of their time, talent, and treasure in order to associate with a self-selected community of believers.”

Is he an “elitist” for wanting greater reverence at Novus Ordo parishes that have lapsed into bad liturgical practices? No, of course not. He believes that there are standards, and if that is elitist, he would probably say, then so be it! Perhaps we are all like the driver who thinks that whoever is going faster than us is crazy and whoever is going slower is being a Sunday driver. But this is why some independent standard is needed, which I will return to in a moment.

I would like to respond to the comment about the “reverence drain.” I am sympathetic with his viewpoint. I have several friends who, although disappointed with the direction of the parish, have stuck it out in order to try to lift up the culture. This seems to be a matter of personal discernment.

My personal conviction, which I take seriously, is that my primary duty is to my spouse and children. I would be derelict in that God-given duty if I were to deprive them of the pearl of great price that I had discovered. Not everyone feels this way about the Traditional Latin Mass. But since I do, I feel that I would have to answer to God upon my death about why I robbed my children of something that I knew in my soul to be of priceless worth.

I should mention that before we left the Novus Ordo, I wrote a letter to our priest in response to what I considered to be an egregious liturgical abuse. This was at some point after the height of Covid. All of the churches in town had reopened, and even this church had previously been open. But one Sunday, without warning, the priest decided to cancel the Mass on account of a “new surge” and to offer drive-thru communion instead. As we pulled around to leave, thinking that Mass had been entirely canceled, there was the deacon putting Our Lord into hands through car windows. It was shocking to see. I forgot myself and said some things before my husband peeled out of the parking lot. We never went back.

In my letter, I pleaded with the priest to, at the very least, keep the church open during Covid. Souls are longing for spiritual nourishment and real religion. There is no need for drive-thru communion—an affront to Our Lord. In fact, I said, there was a young family I had met just before Covid who came back to the church after being away for years, possibly decades. Their backyard backed up to the church parking lot and they thought they’d check it out. I spoke at length with them and we exchanged numbers, and then the church shuttered its doors and during its sporadic parking lot masses, I didn’t see them.

The priest’s response was charitable, but lackluster and seemed to have missed my point. For me to work to change the culture at that parish would have been an insurmountable task and one that is, frankly, not my responsibility. That is what the shepherds of the flock are for, not homeschooling mothers of multiples. We have our work cut out for us as it is, believe me. I am fighting a war on many fronts against the culture. I don’t also need to take up arms against my own church. Instead, I sought out that remnant of my religious heritage that has already gotten it right. How pathetic my efforts at a reform of the reform would seem in comparison to the ancient Latin Mass, developed by the doctors of the Church and perfected over the centuries. It would be laughably pitiful.

In fact, were it not for the Traditional Latin Mass, I would not have been able to recognize the deficiencies of the Novus Ordo. In all honesty, I probably would have been a lost soul.

It is true that some Novus Ordo liturgies are better than others. I witnessed a parish in my hometown utterly transformed under a young, traditional, reverent priest. A communion rail was brought in. Homilies were used to catechize properly the parishioners. Latin chant was incorporated. The altar was rearranged to be liturgically correct. And a dwindling parish is now thriving. But this was all done under the leadership of the priest, not a layperson.

The Novus Ordo parishes that go this way take their cues by looking back—returning to the tradition. If we abandon the old Mass, how will these Novus Ordo parishes raise the bar? Will we expect them to re-invent the traditions to which they are returning? The cultural and religious memory of those traditions are preserved in the Traditional Latin Masses that, thankfully, were never fully expunged.

We are, as Burke says “but too apt to consider things in the state in which we find them.” It is a conceit to assume that the proper way in which to conduct the liturgy is simply written on the heart or discernable by reason. We need to preserve the tradition that preexists us and has been developed by doctors of the Church, martyrs, and saints over the course of many hundreds of years.

Which brings me to my final point, and that is that having certain standards that both this reader and I seem to agree are necessary and desirable, means that people must live up to the standards. Just because a Mass seems “accessible” or a priest or deacon is “relatable” is not an unqualified good for the souls of the flock. Modern democratic values are not Christian virtues. The life that Christ calls on us to live is an arduous one. Christ’s first words that begin his public ministry alert us to the difficulty that lies ahead: “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand.” Not exactly welcoming, democratic man might aver. But it is welcoming for those who wish to live up to Christ’s standards.

In a world in which the standards have fallen just about everywhere, let Holy Mother Church raise the bar, not lower it.

Pax Domini.