Missa cantata in Troy

There is a most beautiful Gregorian chant, the introit for the fourth Sunday of Advent: Rorate caeli, which I heard at an Extraordinary Form Latin Mass yesterday in Troy.

After the 7:45 Mass in Auburn, at which the Schola chanted this in English, I had the desire to go to the Latin Mass also, even though I was on four hours of sleep after my friends' wedding the night before. We took the back way down to Troy, a way I'd never been before, through Tuskegee and Union Springs and a number of other small Black Belt towns (one called Smuteye). The ride was gorgeous, with little traffic, and many tall pines and grassy fields. The distance is shorter and we got to see the old, run-down plantation houses. I'm glad we didn't take I-85.

The Latin Mass was at St. Martin of Tours in Troy, celebrated by Fr. Irwin. The choir was almost as large as the congregation, and they sang all of the Gregorian propers for the Mass. It was a Missa cantata, a low Mass but with the readings and prayers chanted by the priest and the choir. We sat in the front pew, since my friend said he didn't like the other Latin Mass he had been to where he couldn't hear anything. The rest of the congregation, except for a family next to us, sat in the back two pews. There was an entire empty church between them and us, they at the back wall and we right behind the priest and servers. My friend said he loved this Mass, especially following along in the St. Edmund Campion Missal, which were provided in the church. It was easier to follow Fr. Irwin than many priests, because he spoke and sung the Latin slowly and carefully.

I was thinking, later, how that form of the Mass could enrich the Mass of Paul VI. There was something a little unsettling about it. It is much quieter, for one, and it takes its own sweet time, without regard for what the clock says. I'm not in control and I don't know entirely what's going on at the traditional Mass, even following in the missal, and this is intentional. Many parts are hidden from view or veiled in silence. And then, from the midst of the silent anticipation, the Son of God appears, elevated in the hands of the priest, and we are kneeling to worship Him. This is a key element of the lay participation in the older Mass: waiting, watching, trusting; being ready to receive and follow. Even the priest is not in control; he is not free to be himself and do things his way. He puts off his self and takes on the persona Christi in a very tangible way. This is not an attitude very popular in our time. We'd rather be in the know, have a sense of control and ownership, have things now. I might say that the traditional Mass appeals to Marys, and the new Mass appeals to Marthas.