Domine, non sum dignus...

The Liturgy is a rich tapestry of Scriptural imagery and allusions, woven together by the Church’s venerable ritual tradition in such a way that the Scriptures ‘come to life’: during the liturgy we are, in a particular way, ‘praying the scriptures’. One place where the new translation of the Mass makes this intimate relationship between Scripture and Liturgy more explicit is in the exchange between the celebrant and congregation immediately before Holy Communion. The new translation makes clear that the priest’s words repeat John the Baptist’s acknowledgment of Christ as the promised Messiah (Jn 1:29), and the people’s response repeats the reverence shown to Jesus by the Centurion in Matthew’s gospel (Mt 8:8).

By placing these two scriptural phrases alongside each other we acknowledge Christ – uniquely present under the Eucharistic species - as the promised one of Israel, the redeemer of the world, who comes to us (unworthy as we are) in a most intimate way, as our friend: we recognise that Christ’s Eucharistic presence is of both cosmological and deeply personal significance.

The repetition of the Centurion’s words remind us that, although we do not live during the time of Christ’s earthly ministry, in the Eucharist we encounter the Body, Blood, Soul and Divinity of Christ in a much more intimate way. The ‘roof’ under which we welcome Christ is not the roof of a building, but of our hearts. The Eucharistic Jesus is, in the words of the popular hymn, “our saving guest”.

It may be a little surprising that we ask for ‘our souls’ to be healed rather than simply affirming that 'I shall be healed' as we used to. After all, human beings are a union of body and soul (as St Thomas said, “My Soul is not I”), and it seems entirely appropriate that we, like the centurion, ask God to heal physical ailments. There is, of course, no limit to the miracles God could work through the Eucharist (see Luke 5:23, for example) and I am sure many people have been healed and cured of physical ailments by devout reception of Holy Communion. Properly, however, the Sacrament of Holy Communion is one of ‘spiritual feeding’ – through the spiritual food of Christ’s Body and Blood, our spiritual lives are animated, our venial sins forgiven, our moral fortitude strengthened, and our union with Christ perfected. As the Council of Florence remarked,

“Every effect which bodily food and bodily drink produce in our corporeal life, by preserving this life, increasing this life, healing this life, and satisfying this life - is also produced by [Holy Communion] in the spiritual life.”

Institution Narrative

Two of the most obvious and controversial changes in the new translation relate to the consecration of the precious blood. To begin the translation of Pro Multis is now rendered as "for many", whilst before it was translated "for all". This is closer to the synoptic institution narratives, which use the Greek πολλῶν (pollōn), which is is the genitive plural of πολύς (polus). This word can be translated as 'many', 'much' or 'most'. It does not mean 'all'. The Eastern Churches retain the use of this term in their liturgies. St. Jerome translated the Markan and Matthean use of the word as pro multis-'for many' or 'for the many'; and St. Ambrose, writing in the fourth century, says that pro multis was used during the consecration. This term has proved problematic for many as it seems the deny that Jesus' blood was shed for all of humanity. This is not a new dispute: In his Commentary on the Sentences of Peter Lombard, St. Thomas states that, " it is to be said that the Blood of Christ was poured out for all as regards sufficiency, but for the elect only as regards efficacy." He comments in the Summa:

The Blood of Christ's Passion has its efficacy not merely in the elect a

among the Jews, to whom the blood of the Old Testament was exhibited, but also in the Gentiles; nor only in priests who consecrate this sacrament, and in those others who partake of it; but likewise in those for whom it is offered. And therefore He says expressly, "for you," the Jews, "and for many," namely the Gentiles; or, "for you" who eat of it, and "for many," for whom it is offered.

The Catechism of Trent also addresses the issue: "If we look to its value, we must confess that the Redeemer shed his blood for the salvation of all; but if we look to the fruit which mankind have received from it, we shall easily find that it pertains not unto all, but to many of the human race. Pope Innocent X again reaffirmed the orthodox teaching that Christ shed his blood for all of humanity in the Apostolic Constitution Cum occasione in 1653.

Why therefore did the English translation use 'for all'. Much rests on the work of Joachim Jermias'. The Lutheran theologian and scripture scholar wrote an article on πολλῶν for the German Theological Dictionary of the New Testament in 1959. He argued that whilst the Greek of the New Testament should be translated as 'many', this was not the intention of Christ. He bases his theory on a speculative rendering of the Aramaic that Jesus would have used at the Last Supper. This theory and ecumenical zeal amongst ICEL and the CDW led to the translation 'for all'. Now whilst this fact is true by having a more literal rendering we are brought closer to the Sacred Scriptures and Sacred Tradition of the Church.

Rather uncomfortably, we then turn to the use of the term 'chalice' rather than cup. All three synoptic writers and St. Paul, use the term ποτήριον (potērion), a word which translates as 'cup'. In Latin this was translated as calicem. A word which can be translated as either cup or chalice. One might argue that in using the translation 'chalice' , we are moving away from Sacred

Scripture. However the term reminds us that the Eucharist is not only a shared meal. It is also a liturgical meal. The last supper was not an informal gathering but the institution of the Eucharist. By using the term 'chalice', we are reminded that the Cup of the altar is no ordinary receptacle but a vessel that contains the Blood of Christ. This notion that a Chalice is for the finest liquids has recently been seen in Stella Artois' advertisig campaign for their new Cidre. (H/T to The Hermeneutic of Continuity). The Precious Blood of our Lord is the finest and most honoured of all drinks, but using a special term we emphasise that this is no ordinary cup.

Preface Dialogue

The Liturgy of the Eucharist has begun. The gifts of bread and wine have been brought up, prepared and then blessed upon the altar. The people are standing and all is set for the central act of the Mass: the Eucharistic Prayer. It is time for the priest and people to place themselves entirely in the presence of God.

 

The Lord be with you.

And with your spirit.

Lift up your hearts.

We lift them up to the Lord.

Let us give thanks to the Lord our God.

It is right and just.

This dialogue between priest and people opens the Preface, the first part of the Eucharistic Prayer. It is an invitation to prayer, a call-and-response that invokes God’s presence in our hearts.

The first exchange has already occurred twice before, at the Greeting and at the Gospel, and will return twice afterwards, at the Peace and the Final Blessing. So, this middle occurrence is a dramatic pivot in the Mass, signalling the transition from the Liturgy of the Word to the Liturgy of the Eucharist. The new translation, ‘And with your spirit’, has been explained in a previous post.

The second exchange is no different from the old translation, which was already a good rendering of the Latin. Note that ‘hearts’ here is rich with significance: it denotes all our cares, our hopes and fears, our thoughts and beliefs. So, for St. Thérèse of Lisieux, prayer is essentially ‘a surge of the heart’. At the altar of God, we offer up all that we are.

In the third exchange the theme of Eucharist – thanksgiving – is now explicitly introduced. We are about to join ourselves to Christ’s sacrifice of thanksgiving, when we receive his Body and Blood. Here we see another improvement in the translation. The response ‘It is right to give Him thanks and praise’ has been replaced with ‘It is right and just’, which is simply a direct translation of Dignum et justum est. This new version has restored the reference to justice. Christ, the Paschal Lamb, executed divine justice when he offered himself as a pure and willing victim for our redemption, ‘while we were yet sinners’ (Rom. 5:8). Instead of condemning us, God’s judgment entails our rescue from sin (Jn. 3:17): thus is God’s justice revealed in His love – and what better reason to give Him thanks?

There is one further advantage to the phrase, ‘It is right and just’. Like a musical counterpoint, which is clear in the Latin and has been restored to our English version, the priest immediately develops the same theme as he continues with the Preface:

‘It is truly right and just, our duty and salvation,

always and everywhere to give You thanks.’

Preparation of the Gifts

At this part of the Mass, the gifts of bread and wine (along with any financial collection) are presented. We are to present ourselves with them to the Lord, renewing the gift of ourselves to God, mindful all we are and have is from God. We want all this to be caught up into the mystery of the Sacrifice and Sacrament of the Eucharist, which enables us, in Christ, to be living sacrifices, offered to the God of holiness.

The prayers over the gifts have been changed slightly: the words ‘bread (or wine) to offer’ have been changed to ‘the bread (wine) we offer you’. It highlights the action that is taking place: we offer ourselves with the bread and wine and in the Mass this in actively being offered to God. We are each to actively take part in the Mass in this way.

This important feature in which each of us exercises the common priesthood we have received in baptism is brought out in a further change. After the priest has washed his hands he invites us all to pray. During this invitation he used to say ‘Pray brothers and sisters that our sacrifice will be acceptable to God …’. Now it is ‘ … that my sacrifice and yours …’. ‘Yours’ here carries the sense of ‘of each of you’ highlighted by the priest making clear that he too, as well as speaking and acting in the Name of Christ our High Priest, is also offering himself as everyone else does.

The end of this dialogue of self-offering and sacrifice ends with the addition of the word ‘holy’. Thus: ‘May the Lord, accept the sacrifice at your hands / for the praise and glory of his name, for our good / and the good of all his holy Church.’ It reminds us that we are here because God has made the Church holy by his presence and thus we, as baptised people are, a the First Letter of Peter puts it: ‘ a chosen race, a kingdom of priests, as holy nation, a people to be a personal possession to sing the praises of God who called us out of darkness into his wonderful light (1Pet 2:9).’

This part of the Mass finishes with the priest’s ‘Prayer over the offerings’: these have all been retranslated to bring out more fully their meaning. It is good to really listen and so pray and so mean the ‘Amen’ with which we respond.

The Creed

When we speak about God, it is important to remember that the tools at our disposal are inadequate. Finite human language and finite human concepts can never fully comprehend or incapsulate the infinite God. This must be born in mind when we think about Creeds, or indeed any doctrinal definitions. We know when we recite the Creed that what we mean is true, because the doctrines of the Creed are revealed to us by God; we do not, however, know what we mean. The truth of God is always bigger than we can comprehend. Augustine put it like this:

'We are talking about God. What wonder is it that you do not understand? If you do understand, then it is not God.'

It is hard, then, not to have some sympathy for those translators tasked with amending the Creed for the new translation of the Mass. Any English translation will be an inadequete rendering of an inadequate Latin translation of a Creed written in inadequate Greek. We get some idea of the difficulty of what is being attempted when we reflect on one of the most significant alterations, the translation of the Latin consubstantialem Patri.

In the previous translation this was rendered: 'of one being with the Father'. Here the translators seem to have been looking back to the original Greek text of the Nicene Creed, particuarly to the word homoousion - literally 'of the same being'. The Council of Nicaea wanted to emphasize, in opposition to the Arians who denied the Divinity of Christ, that Jesus was indeed true God; at the same time they wanted to insist that God was indeed one. Homoousion was the word they eventualy chose to express this faith, and not without some controversy. Homoousion is not a scriptural word and many of the fathers objected to such 'philosophical' language being used to define the Christian faith. In the end, however, it was decided that the potential for confusion and misunderstanding was such that a technical term was needed to communicate what has been revealed in Jesus Christ. We know from revelation that Jesus is of the same 'substance', or the same 'being' as God. Yet we do not know what this 'substance' is, because it is beyond the powers of our understanding and unlike any other 'substance' in the created world.

Homoousion was translated into the Latin west as consubstantialem. Traditionally this has been rendered into English as 'consubstantial', literally: 'of the same substance'. The translators of the new missal have chosen to follow this older English tradition and stay closer to the Latin text so the new translation now reads: 'consubstantial with the Father'. This technical term does jar somewhat in the midst of a Creed expressed mostly in more or less every day language, but nevertheless does reflect the deliberate choice of specialist vocabulary on the part of the Council Fathers at Nicaea. Neither the previous nor the new translation are adequate in the fullest sense, because neither can capture the mystery that is the Holy Trinity. Both, however, are able to communicate the idea that the Father and the Son are distinct persons and yet, with the Holy Spirit, one God. The new translation, then, is appropriate given the overall policy of the translators to produce a missal that is closer to the Latin.

This policy of preserving the range of meanings expressed in the Latin also appears to be behind the decision to move from the first person plural (we believe) to the first person singular (I believe). Again, the original Greek from Nicaea begins: 'we believe' (pisteuomen), as does the previous translation of the English missal. However, since the sixth century both Byzantine and Latin liturgies have used the first person singular: 'I believe' (Credo, in the Latin, pisteuo in Greek). The new English translation has returned to this more traditional position.

The Penitential Rite

In looking at the changes to the English translation of the Penitential Rite, this piece will concentrate on the Confiteor, where three significant changes can be found. Previously we began with; ‘I confess to almighty God, and to you, my brothers and sisters, that I have sinned through my own fault, in my thoughts and in my words…’ whereas now we have the edition of ‘I have greatly sinned in my thoughts and in my words...’ The addition of the adjective greatly, is at first glance, not a major change but it is worth briefly reflecting on what is being drawn out here. Many of our sins we, quite naturally, think trivial. We may think of them as ‘private’ sins because we cannot see how they could harm another, albeit whilst offending God. However, whilst we should not blow matters out of all proportion, it is worth considering that no sin is ‘private’. All sins do injury, not just to ourselves, but to the body to which we belong; the Body of Christ – the Church. When we sin we have to recognise that in some way we do injury to this Body and to its members and this is the very point of our public recitation of the Confiteor; we publically announce that we recognise the injury done and that we seek forgiveness from God and from each other. The words ‘greatly sinned’ help us to remember that no sin affects us alone.

This goes for our second addition, the threefold repetition of; 'through my fault, through my fault, through my most grievous fault'. The repetition here is not just for dramatic effect, though no one could argue that it fails to get the message home. However, by its threefold nature it reminds us of the three persons of the blessed Trinity against whom we have sinned. When we sin, we sin against the Father, Son and Holy Spirit, and when we say these words we publically acknowledge that fact and that we seek the mercy and help of the Triune God whom we seek to draw closer to.

Lastly, we find that as we once proclaimed ‘and I ask Blessed Mary...’ we now say: ‘therefore I ask Blessed Mary...’ It looks a very minor change, hair-splitting some might say, but again there is real depth of meaning here. We sin and we pray to Our Lady or we sin and therefore pray to Our Lady? The latter option certainly brings out the need we have of our most powerful intercessor. We don’t sin and pray, we pray because we have sinned. We turn therefore to Our Lady and all the Saints to plead on our behalf, to heal the gulf that sin opens in our lives and we recognise the vital place which the prayers of Our Lady and the Communion of Saints have in helping us to heal that gulf. Again, we recognise that our sins are not ‘private’ but also that we are not alone on the journey toward the Kingdom of God.

"And With Your Spirit"

One of the most noticeable changes to the new translation of the Roman Missal is the shift from And also with you to And with your spirit. This has been in practice the most difficult change for me personally and even now I have occasionally slipped into the former translation. People have become accustomed to this translation There does not seem to be much difference between the two translations One therefore has to ask why such a change?

And with your spirit is the literal translation of et cum spiritu tuo, which itself is a literal translation from the Greek found in much early Christian writing. St. Paul uses it in many of his letters: The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with your spirit brethren. Amen” (Gal 6:18; cf Phil 4:23; Philemon 25); “The Lord be with your spirit. Grace be with you” (2 Tim 4:22). It is not too presumptuous to assume that this reflects a liturgical greeting within the Church. By the third century however we have strong evidence from The Apostolic Tradition that the phrase And with your Spirit was used in Christian worship.

One one level the expression And also with you seems to fulfill the function of et cum spiritu tuo but I think we lose the fullness of expression. And also with you can seems quite banal, almost like a informal greeting, such as 'How do you do' or a doffing one's hat. When one uses the more literal translation And with your spirit we are not only referring to the minister as an individual but the grace and gifts of the Holy Spirit that the minister has received. As St. Paul says "The Holy Spirit has established you shepherds and bishops". Theodore of Mopsuestia in one of his baptismal homilies says :

"In saying ‘and with your spirit, they do not refer to his soul, but to the grace of the Holy Spirit by which his people believe that he is called to the priesthood”.

In using the translation And with your Spirit we come closer to seeing that the Mass is not just a series of human rubrics and actions but as John Chrysostom puts it:

"the mystic sacrifice is brought about by the grace of the Holy Spirit

and his hovering over all.”"

Lost in translation?

Traduttore – traditore (the translator is a traitor) runs the Italian play on words, and its own English translation already gives us an example of what it’s talking about: the English words don’t sound as similar as the Italian, and so the wordplay doesn’t work as well. The translator faces a huge challenge in trying to convey the fullness of the original text, and inevitably something has to be compromised: perhaps the translator will feel the need to sacrifice the conciseness of the original, for example, in order to make the text more intelligible, or perhaps the importance of preserving the poetic form will be placed above the exact literal meaning of the words.

Furthermore, there is no hard and fast rule for which elements of a text should be best preserved, and where the translator ought to compromise: it depends on the genre of the text, the target audience and the purpose of the translator, to name but a few factors.

All of these issues, then, have been at play in the question of liturgical translation, too, and it’s a different judgement of the best balance of these competing elements which has resulted in the differences we find in the new translation. To take one of the most obvious examples, the Latin et cum spiritu tuo with which we respond to the priest’s Dominus vobiscum (‘The Lord be with you’) has been changed, in the English translation from ‘and also with you’ to ‘and with your spirit’.

The old translation is clearly further away from the Latin original, and we can get a sense of the translators’ attempt to make the text more immediately intelligible and sound more like something we might say in “normal English”. At the same time, we see that the translators have gone, as it were, a step beyond what the Latin says to try and convey what it’s talking about.

Now, that approach to translation is certainly justifiable in itself. However, at the same time it’s clear that ‘and also with you’ is not the only thing the Latin could mean: by going that extra step from what the original says to trying to explain what it means, the translators have been forced to exclude other possible interpretations that et cum spiritu tuo bears, such as references to the Holy Spirit we share through our baptism, or perhaps the particular charism the priest has received in the sacrament of Holy Orders.

As I understand it, the new approach to vernacular translations which the Church has adopted in the light of her experience over the last 40 years recognises the importance of preserving as far as possible this range of meanings of the original Latin. In many cases, that has resulted in something less immediately and easily intelligible because, as it were, the translators have done less work, and left us more to do ourselves: rather than settle on one possible interpretation (which would have enabled them to make the language simpler), our liturgical translators have given us an English text which is open for us to explore in the light of the Holy Spirit: as we pray the common prayer of the Church, we can find in the liturgy a means of deepening our understanding of the common faith we profess.

Why a New Translation?

Over the next few weeks the Godzdogz team will be giving a series of reflections on the new Mass translation.

Anyone who has studied a foreign language will understand that translation is a tricky business. What can be expressed with great elegance in one language may sound very awkward in another if one tries too hard to capture the exact meaning. An alternative strategy is to use a principle called dynamic equivalence. Dynamic equivalence gives translators the freedom to effectively paraphrase the original text so that whilst the translation may not be very precise, the result is much more natural and easier to understand. The principle of dynamic equivalence was used for the first translations of the Mass that came out after Vatican II. Over the years, many people have grown to love these translations and there is a recognition of the positive results they've had in bringing about the liturgical renewal urged for by the Council. But that's not to say things can't be improved.


The English translation has suffered from a number of defects. Of course this doesn't mean that the Mass was in any way invalid, but still, the use of dynamic equivalence has ended up obscuring the original meaning rather than making it more accessible. Expressions of our need for God's grace, expressions of humility before God, the mystery of the Mass, the relationship between the Mass and Sacred Scripture – many people have complained that these expressions were lost in translation.

In 2001 an official instruction, Liturgiam Authenticam was issued which marked a departure from the principle of dynamic equivalence in the translation of liturgical books. The new guidance was that translations should be characterized by a kind of language which is easily understandable, yet which at the same time preserves the original texts' dignity, beauty, and doctrinal precision. Of course balancing all these demands is very challenging and the instruction recognized this and said 'in translating biblical passages where seemingly inelegant words or expressions are used, a hasty tendency to sanitize this characteristic is to be avoided.' Translators were also urged to 'allow the signs and images of the texts, as well as the ritual actions, to speak for themselves; they should not attempt to render too explicit that which is implicit in the original texts.'

The new translation may take a long time to get used to, and perhaps some people will never get used to it, but whatever feelings we have, we can still pray that the new Mass translation will have a positive effect in renewing the life of the Church.