Two Poems for the 55th Anniversary of the Modern Rite
"Happy Birthday!," one is not inclined to say
I don’t usually send posts on days other than Monday, Thursday, and Friday, but anniversaries are special and call for exceptions.
Today, April 3, is the 55th anniversary of the fateful day when Paul VI signed his 1969 Apostolic Constitution, counterfactually entitled Missale Romanum, publishing the Novus Ordo Missae and ordering its use as of the First Sunday of Advent that year, which was November 30, 1969.
All the same, in keeping with the slapdash manner that characterized the entire hasty reform from 1963 to 1969 and beyond, the liturgical books were largely not available until 1970 at the earliest, and were implemented over a number of years in different countries. Due to political and linguistic complications, China and Africa held to the Roman Rite for years before the Modern Rite was forced upon them by their Western superiors who knew better.
Happily for us, Paul VI never juridically promulgated his new missal (i.e., imposed it on the universal Church by law), nor did he ever juridically abrogate the traditional missal. Therefore, no priest has ever been strictly obliged to use the new missal or to stop using the old missal. That remains the case to this day.1
On this inauspicious occasion, I would like to share two poems — one of them newly composed (which I will share second), the other written for a “requiem banquet” some gentlemen in my city held on the night of the 50th anniversary of the aforementioned papal document. We dressed in black and made many toasts to the immemorial and inextinguishable Roman Rite. For my toast, I read out the following:
Two Actors (Agents?), Shown the Door
Enter our villain: Annibale Bugnini.
Of liturgy, the Todd [comma] Sweeney.
In boyhood, he served Holy Mass with delight,
Swinging the thurible as any boy might.
No stranger to cottas, small bells, and big books,
He surely attracted no skeptical looks.
Only later in life did he deem with dismay
That all divine worship was in disarray!
Flashing scissors and paste, and pen for a sword,
Of all Roman rites he made himself Lord.
Consilium he led, with squadrons of scholars,
“Auxilium!” they said, feeling hot round the collars
As decades and centuries and ages were slain
In pursuit of a prayer form outstandingly plain.
Up-to-date, it was called, verifiably new —
A daring conceit to clear out each pew.
Enter stage left: Giovanni Battista Montini
(To those who scorned him, quite a meanie).
Without his muscle, this plan would have failed;
The papal head nodded: Bugnini’s boat sailed.
Too bad for the rest of us these two tangled:
Audacity twinned left our Holy Mass mangled.
But all too well, or too much, had he swaggered,
And soon Papa Paul sent him off like a blackguard,
En route to Tehran for a job diplomatic —
Too late to repent of his air autocratic.
(And shall we broach the Masonic briefcase?)
Whatever it was… he left in disgrace.
Now fifty years later, what can be learned
From this harrowing tale of fortunes turned,
A whodunnit of Agatha Christie scope
(the one who signed an appeal to the pope)?
One lesson shines above the rest:
What we’ve received is still the best.
Tradition is our mirth and measure;
It holds, it yields, a boundless treasure.
Exeunt omnes who wrecked the Church
And left believers in the lurch.
Bugnini’s rituals we abhor:
For us, it is usus antiquior.
Five years later, I offer this poem to my readers.2
Antitheses at the Altar
This one elevates, that one enervates.
This one irrigates, that one irritates.
This one deepens, that one cheapens.
This one contemplates, that one congregates.
This one avails, that one assails.
This one soars, that one bores.
This one cantillates, that one can’t elate.
Thing of beauty; thing of duty.
One is weighted; one is dated.
Ever new; empty pew.
Fruitful wombs; greedy tombs.
To the East; to the Beast.3
Work of ages; Bugnini’s pages.
Here we genuflect; there we disinfect.
Sturdy; wordy.
Humbling; bumbling.
Wrapped in mystery; trapped in history.
Let the fed be well fed;
Let the dead bury the dead.
Yes, I hear some people choking on their toast and wondering if I’ve lost my marbles, but the evidence is carefully assembled and assessed in “The New Mass and Infallibility,” chapter 16 of John Salza’s and Robert Siscoe’s True or False Pope? Refuting Sedevacantism and Other Modern Errors (Winona, MN: STAS Editions, 2015), 493-524. A PDF of this important chapter may be found here for those who are interested in studying the details. [N.B. This PDF was initially missing 3 pages, but I have added them now, so everything should be there at the link.] All the same, no pope has the authority to abolish a traditional liturgical rite or to impose the exclusive use of a new one.
With qualified apologies on behalf of unicorns of various sorts — but let us not forget: there is a reason why the unicorns are so rare, and why 99% of readers, wherever they live in the world, will recognize their experience in these lines.
This refers to east as a symbol of Christ and west as a symbol of Satan or fallen humanity, as found in all the Church Fathers and particularly in the Byzantine rite of baptism, where the baptismal party spits toward the west renouncing Satan, then turns to the east to embrace Christ. Cf. St. Thomas quoting St. Augustine at Summa theologiae II-II, Q. 189, art. 10: “The East, that is Christ, calleth thee, and thou turnest to the West, namely mortal and fallible man.”
Unfortunately, it appears that there are pages missing from the pdf you linked to...pp. 500, 501 and 522. I hesitate to add another task to your todo list but my OCD requires that I at least mention it. Please forgive me.
Brilliant, Peter. You will get many attacks for this one...but, as somebody that regulars a Novus Ordo that is done excellently and reverently, the facts remain...the very facts expressed in your poetic genius. I'll promote this, because it's Truth, and I don't care who likes it or not.