The Trid: Why You Should Love It

Finally, below is my article for the Georgetown Academy on the Tridentine Rite Mass. The theme of the entire issue was "secularization." Just because I couldn't resist defending Sarah Palin, bashing Obama and promoting a controversial liturgy all in one day. Up next: my defense of "extra ecclesiam nulla salus."

*Note: This article has been edited since its original printing in the Academy.

The Tridentine Rite Mass, or as we younger traddies affectionately call it, the Trid, is unabashedly, unequivocally Catholic. What with the Latin and the kneeling, the incense and the chanting, one could close her eyes and imagine herself standing right alongside St. Teresa of Avila, or St. Ignatius of Loyola, both of whom attended Mass in this form. (I, of course, never actually do this).

So what is the Tridentine Rite Mass, exactly? In a nutshell (we’re condensing 2,000 years of liturgical history here), it is the form of the Roman Rite that was instituted at the Council of Trent in the mid 16th century, hence – Tridentine. It was not invented at this time; on the contrary, it was slowly developed in a continuous and organic fashion since the earliest days of the Church. Some of the oldest extant liturgical books evince a Rite nearly identical to that which the Council of Trent enshrined.

The Mass was said according to this fashion for over four-hundred years after the Council of Trent and until the Second Vatican Council, which ordered a liturgical renewal, including the unprecedented construction of a new liturgy by a liturgical committee. After this new liturgy was promulgated in 1970, the Tridentine Rite could only be used with the permission of the local bishop.

But then, just over one year ago, Pope Benedict XVI issued a document stating that any priest could say the Tridentine Rite without asking permission from his Bishop. Traddies partied in the streets. (For us, of course, this means somberly chanting a litany to the Blessed Virgin in the streets, but you know, tomato, tomahto). This democratization of the Trid led to a huge revival and just a year later, parishes that offer the Trid are packed with people, many of whom are in their twenties and thirties.

So what does all this talk about liturgy have to do with secularism? It took me a few Oxford English Dictionary searches to really nail it. The key lies in the definition, not of secularism, but “secularization”: “1. The conversion of an ecclesiastical or religious institution or its property to secular possession and use…2. The giving of a secular or non-sacred character or direction to.” Bingo. The transition from the Tridentine liturgy to the 1970 liturgy has been marked by overwhelming secularization.

Ok, I’ll admit it: attending Mass in a language one doesn’t speak means paying attention requires some real effort. And so, in reaction to the lay faithful who would sit in Mass, completely ignoring the celebration, perhaps praying their Rosary, the Second Vatican Council rightly required “active participation” of all the faithful. Unfortunately, as dear old Bennie points out, this very good impulse was “misunderstood to mean something external…as if as many people as possible, as often as possible, should be visibly engaged in action.” Hence: parish liturgical committees! Extraordinary ministers of the Eucharist even when sufficient priests are present! The individual layperson making decisions that in the past were made organically over thousands of years! In other words, the liturgy was, in many ways, handed over to secular possession.

This almost obsessive control over the liturgy by the laity led to a far deeper and more fundamental problem: the Mass very often became a showcase for human creativity. One of the most egregious examples of the ill-effects of this kind of secularization of the liturgy was the Mass celebrated at last year’s Northern California Call to Action Conference. Instead of an orderly line of priests and servers, a rambunctious group of gigantic puppets processed in to look on as a modern dancer clad in a leotard leapt about the church, Gospel in hand. The worst part of it all: various parishes and organizations found this so inspiring that they held puppet masses of their own! While the "young adult" liturgies common in DC are a far cry from such ridiculous nonsense, the secular music and total lack of solemnity can lead one to wonder if she has somehow stumbled into a Disney film entitled, “Catholic Mass: The Musical!”

The Tridentine Rite falls prey to none of these problems but, today, do encourage appropriate active participation – Latin to English translations are offered to the faithful when they attend, the readings from Scripture are typically read in English, and all are expected to sing the responses to the Priest. Boys and young men can act as servers, and there are often opportunities to join choirs.

The Trid also avoids the problems entailed by the second definition of secularization, for not only is it unabashedly Catholic, but it is also unabashedly sacred. This focus on the sacred is immediately apparent from the direction of the priest who, leading his congregation, stands with them facing the altar. The center of attention is never, therefore, the priest, but the Lord himself, who in the sacrifice of the Mass is truly present upon the altar. Ideally, both priest and people face east toward the rising sun, which represents Christ.

This stands in stark contrast to the formations typically found in celebrations by the 1970 rite, in which the priest typically faces toward the congregation and therefore becomes their focus. Instead of leading them toward God, he commands his people’s attention. Often, pews or seats are arranged so that the people in the congregation face one another, sometimes even in a circle. Rather than opening themselves up the Christ, the rising sun, the people are, as Pope Benedict says, closed in on themselves, gazing at one another.

The Tridentine Rite also gives its attention to the sacred through the use of music that finds its root not in artistic autonomy, but in the Word and in prayer. The masterful use of silence, an opportunity to encounter the Lord in prayer, as an indispensable part of the liturgical action found in the Trid stands opposed to the artificially inserted periods of silence (often skipped) in the 1970 liturgy.


All one has to do to understand the unequivocal focus on the sacred of the Trid is to look around at the children, who, invariably, are present. At nearly any other Mass or church service, children squirm and whisper to their parents throughout the celebration, but at a Trid, they gaze wide and steady-eyed at the priest, solemnly chanting in his brocaded, elaborate vestments, their little hands clasped fast together in prayer. The hush of the many children during Mass says something profound: unlike at a watered-down Mass with secular music, they get it. They get that they are participating in something entirely out of the ordinary, entirely separate from their everyday lives, something that ought to inspire their awe.