The Liturgy – Lost In Translation?

First, contrary to popular beliefs, Latin was not in fact the original language of the Church. Pride of place goes to Aramaic, then to koine [ First Century ] Greek, followed by the many dialects of the Roman Empire of the first century. Latin was the language of government, law and Roman civil religion. Greek was the language of trade and commerce  and became the lingua franca of Empire. Early Christians worshipped and celebrated the Eucharist in their own languages in their own homes.

Second, as with language, so too the people of God celebrated the Eucharist in different ways without any set forms. The earliest Christian writings on church polity like the Didache offer no set forms for the Eucharist. In his First Apology (c150AD), Justin Martyr said to his readers that at Mass the presider sends up prayers and thanksgiving to the best of his ability, and the people assent, saying Amen. In short, the Eucharistic Prayer was to be a spontaneous expression of the one leading the congregation. Since not all presiders were that articulate various Eucharistic prayers evolved in different regions. While most had the same content we know today the invocation of the Spirit (epiclesis), the account of the last supper (institution narrative) and the prayer of thanksgiving, though not all in that order regional prayers in regional languages evolved.

any local rites persisted: in many parts of Spain (to this day in Seville, in fact) there was the Mozarabic Rite; in England, the Sarum Liturgy; and in France people used the Gallican Liturgy (which heavily influenced the Roman Rite, what is now Eucharistic Prayer I). Diversity was not something to be feared; local idioms did not seem lacking in the necessary gravitas to be pleasing to Gods ear.

Fourth, although the Eucharist in the Middle Ages was celebrated in different forms, the fact that it was celebrated in Latin was a problem. Very few people understood Latin, let alone could read it. Most people, including kings, princes and priests, were illiterate. Many priests simply learned the liturgy by rote and celebrated Mass hoping what they were saying was correct. After the Reformation seminary reform made priests better educated, but the laity still could not understand the Mass. A pattern emerged: the priest celebrated the liturgy while the congregants engaged in their own private prayers  stopping occasionally to stand, kneel, sit, and bless themselves according to bells rung at strategic moments in the Mass. The overall effect was one of passivity. The sense of the liturgy as leiturgia (the peoples work) was lost.

Fifth, this passivity was a central concern of the reforms instituted by the Second Vatican Council. In Sacrosanctum Concilium, the Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy (1963), the Council expressed the desire that all the faithful should be led to that full, conscious and active participation in liturgical celebrations which is demanded by the very nature of the liturgy, and to which the Christian people have a right and obligation by reason of their baptism (SC,14). Noting both unchangeable and changeable elements in the liturgy, the Council expressed the need that both texts and rites should be drawn up so as to express more clearly the holy things which they signify (SC, 21). Celebration of the Liturgy in vernacular translation was permitted. Reasonable cultural adaptation was allowed, even encouraged. Fundamentally, the Council declared:
The rites should be distinguished by a noble simplicity. They should be short, clear, and free from useless repetitions. They should be within the peoples powers of comprehension, and normally should not require much explanation. (SC, 34)

These five points raise a number of important issues for us as we muddle through the latest English translation of the liturgy. A few themes emerge.

Second, from earliest times and even well into the Middle Ages there was no one standard form of the Eucharist  even when the language was universalized by the adoption of Latin. Different Eucharistic prayers, even after the Great Schism of the 11th Century, were more common than we imagine. This should not surprise anyone since language is an expression of culture, and culture forms and informs language. The Church has always been a communio, united in diversity, locally autonomous under the bishop, yet in communion with the Bishop of Rome. Diversity is thus part of our tradition, and should not be feared. If anything, the obsession to seek uniformity is an historical aberration  and perhaps today an example of the insidious creep of the worst kind of socio-economic-cultural globalization.

Third, the historical record shows that as the liturgy shifted towards greater uniformity of form and Latinization of content a greater passivity emerged in the Church, particularly among the laity. While  granted  this gave the Church a sense of universality (the Mass was the same in Rome, Manila and Nairobi) it was at the cost of popular engagement: most Romans, Filipinos and Kenyans shared in common incomprehension.

What might this suggest about liturgical reform? First, that language matters. Language unites or divides people. Latin, the history suggests to me, united people often in mutual incomprehension. Translations were rightly seen as necessary, in language understandable to people for full participation. Translations had to convey accurately the theological truth of the Mass in language people understood.

Yet translation is never simple transliteration (at least it shouldnt be). For languages are always expressions and reflections of cultures. Good translation expresses culture accurately  or it sounds to its native users like a kind of crude pidgin and, particularly if such translations are avoidable, may be treated by speakers as expressions of contempt for their language  and themselves. It attacks speakers dignity to be addressed thus.

English-speakers are multi-cultural in background and English has many forms in the world today. This would suggest that when translating the liturgy due respect for these cultures and forms of the language are in order. Any attempt, perhaps, at a universal translation may inevitably fail. People will be offended  and particularly if the language is that of worship, such offence may lead to a whole variety of spiritual, theological and pastoral crises. I think we are seeing the beginnings of this today.

What then, should be done? The least we can do is acknowledge the need for proper translation in language people actually understand and use. I understand this as the vision of Vatican II and wholly endorse its call for noble simply, clarity and understandability. Sadly, the new English translation does not seem to meet these standards.

On a deeper level, noting the cultural diversity of English itself and the historical example of the early Church, it may also be worth considering a kind of liturgical subsidiarity: over and above the existing prayers of the Mass, should we not start considering developing local, inculturated yet theologically faithful forms of the Eucharist? This would not be an arbitrary act but an exercise of collegiality between liturgists (including a few Latinists), sacramental theologians and poets well-versed in the idiom of their communities. Such activities might also embody the best of what Catholicity means to us  unity in diversity, rooted in the primacy of charity.