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A Dei Of Mass Appeal

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By MICHELLE BEARDEN, The Tampa Tribune

Published: September 8, 2007

Updated: 09/08/2007 12:56 am

The moment Cardinal Ratzinger emerged on the balcony at St. Peter's Square as successor to the late Pope John Paul II, Mary Kraychy knew her long wait was over.

'The Latin Mass is free again!' she thought that spring day in 2005.

Kraychy had reason to celebrate. As executive director of the Chicago-based Coalition in Support of Ecclesia Dei, she leads a national organization of Latin Mass enthusiasts.

She knew that Ratzinger - Pope Benedict XVI - favored making the mostly obsolete traditional Latin Mass accessible again. He likely would make that a priority during his tenure as spiritual leader to the world's 1 billion Catholics.

The new pope did not disappoint.

On Friday, Benedict's Motu Proprio, Summorum Pontificum, launches a new era, borrowed from an old one. The letter directs that, as of that day, clergy no longer will need special permission to celebrate the Tridentine Mass. The thoroughly Latin Roman rite reigned from the mid-1500s until the 1960s.

The directive does not spell the end of the Norvus Ordo (New Order) Mass commonly celebrated by Catholics in the vernacular, or language of the local people. That wasn't the intention of Latin Mass supporters, who felt alienated when the rite essentially was replaced by the Second Vatican Council with a common-language liturgy and a new Roman Catholic missal.

'It won't be forced down anyone's throat, the way the English Mass was,' Kraychy says. 'We know the feeling, and we don't wish that upon anyone.

'Let the two versions peacefully co-exist. That's all we ever really wanted.'

Looking For Something Different

On Sunday mornings, Don and Kristen Beard get an early start to feed and dress their four children, ages 6, 4, 3 and 1. The couple load up their Chevy Tahoe, securing each child in a car seat, for the hourlong drive from Zephyrhills to St. Petersburg.

Although they pass several Catholic churches along the way, none will do. They are headed for the Latin Mass in the Chapel of Our Lady at the Cathedral of St. Jude the Apostle, which draws about 200 people a week.

'It's so worth it,' says Kristen, 41. 'It's so beautiful, so holy and so sacred.'

And so different from how they worshipped most of their lives.

Don was raised Methodist; Kristen, Lutheran. After lots of long talks with a Catholic friend, they began exploring the faith through classes and study. In April 2000, they converted.

That same friend introduced them to the Latin Mass, where the priest faces east on the altar, his back to the people. He follows a rite that for centuries bound together millions of Catholics around the world.

Such a Mass has been hard to find in recent decades. The Second Vatican's New Order rules also required that the traditional Mass be celebrated only with the diocesan bishop's permission and only by clergy ordained before 1970. That so limited options that a group of traditionalists broke with the Vatican in 1988 and formed the Society of St. Pius X. Its estimated 600,000 members have attended Latin services ever since.

At this sacred celebration of the Eucharist, only men can serve at the altar, and female congregants must cover their heads.

It was all the Beards imagined.

'It resonated with me,' says Don, 39, director of packaging for Vitality Food Service. 'As newcomers to Catholicism, we spent a lot of time studying the early church. This seemed to be the way it's supposed to be.'

It doesn't matter that they don't speak the language. The missal, a liturgical book, has the English version on one side, the Latin on the other, and it includes illustrations so worshipers can visually follow along.

A New Generation

The Beards are among a growing number of young families who choose this service - though they never experienced it during its heyday. With restrictions lifting Friday, some observers predict the experience won't be sought just by old-school Catholics yearning for the old days. They foresee a surge in attendance by a new generation.

'I didn't even know it existed growing up,' says lifelong Catholic Phil Eastman, 34, a pilot for the National Oceanic Atmospheric Administration. He and his wife, Amy, 34, bring their children - ages 5, 4, 3 and 1 - from south Tampa to St. Jude the Apostle every Sunday.

Eastman goes to Latin Masses whenever he's on the road, and he says the young congregants always far outnumber the older ones. Although the services are filled with small children and babies, it's a reverent experience, he says.

His wife agrees. 'I think the Mass speaks to the children as well. They're much quieter here,' she says. 'People dress more modestly, and there are fewer distractions. It's just a holier atmosphere.'

It's a distinct contrast to the contemporary Masses offered today, some of which include rock music, casual attire, liturgical dance and clergy telling folksy stories from the altar.

Michael Brennan, 64, says Pope Benedict's decision to bring 'legitimacy' to an ages-old church tradition was the right one. It allows the pope to re-emphasize that Vatican II and the new Mass were not a break with the past but rather another form of worship more suited to some believers.

He's not among them, though.

'The other Masses seem like a pop fest to me now,' says Brennan, a retired nurse.

Finding Qualified Priests

Only six dioceses nationwide offered a traditional Mass in 1988, according to the Coalition in Support of Ecclesia Dei. That number grew to about 240 churches in a majority of the dioceses by this summer, but it never reached widespread support. Bishops had to give permission for the Mass, and some just didn't want to be bothered, Kraychy says, or they were afraid it would signal a return to the old days.

Bishops serving the Diocese of St. Petersburg were among those who granted permission for the traditional Mass. It began with one service in 1984, then a few years later, twice a month. Under Bishop Robert Lynch, the Latin Mass now is celebrated every week - 12:30 p.m. at the St. Jude chapel and 6:30 a.m. at St. Theresa Parish in Spring Hill.

Getting permission from a bishop was half the battle. Finding a priest qualified to celebrate this old Mass was another. Now it will be open to any priest properly trained in both the language and the old liturgy.

'That's a good thing. We were all dying off,' says the Rev. Raymond Vega, a member of the Sacred Heart religious order. At 83, he is way past retirement age, but his services as a traditional Mass celebrant are in demand. He is one of just three priests in this five-county diocese either qualified or willing.

'I grew up with it. If you grow up with something, you get to love it,' Vega says. 'Of course, I enjoy offering Mass in any language. But there's no doubt there's an awesome, profound spirituality with this particular Mass.'

He says he is most pleased with the pope's directive.

'We need to bring it out more in the open,' he says. 'People have been under the erroneous idea that the Latin Mass wasn't valid, that we were doing something under the table. I'm expecting more people will come out of curiosity - and some will stay.'

There's no way of knowing how many priests will come forward to serve as celebrants. This diocese has only 49 priests old enough to have been trained to lead the old rite, according to the Rev. Robert Morris, vicar general. How many of them are confident enough to lead one today is anybody's guess. He also doesn't know how many younger priests or seminarians will make the effort to become trained.

The important thing, he says, is that no one needs to feel excluded anymore.

'I think it's a matter of respecting how we can best provide everyone's sacramental needs,' he says.

Keeping Latin Alive

For Clearwater lawyer Jan Halisky, 59, the traditional Mass has always been his liturgy of choice. He speaks the language fluently and has taught it to most of his 11 home-schooled children.

'For nearly 2,000 years, it was the language of the Roman Catholic Church,' he says. 'When it comes to addressing God, it seems more appropriate to have a more noble and somber language. We can speak in the vernacular when we're among ourselves, like when we're eating dinner.'

Halisky so loves Latin that he serves as secretary of the local chapter of the Family of St. Jerome, an international group dedicated to the advancement of the Latin heritage of the Catholic Church. The association has instruction tapes for those who want to learn the language and weeklong immersion programs.

He frets about statistics that indicate a drop-off in church attendance since the Second Vatican Council. He blames some of the changes in the Mass.

'The pope didn't understand how one of the church's holiest possessions could be replaced. Neither did we,' Halisky says.

Like the Beards and Eastmans, Randy and Teresa Galante gather up their five children - ages 9, 7, 5, 4 and 3 - on Sundays to make the trek to St. Petersburg from Clearwater. They both feel drawn to what they describe as a 'quiet interior' of the traditional Mass, and they appreciate how it takes them away from the outside world, if only for an hour.

'My life is loud and chaotic during the week,' says Teresa, 35. 'I know I can count on this for inner peace and time to commune quietly with God. Even before the children came along, I needed that.'

The couple, both lifelong Catholics, say the Second Vatican Council had good intentions in changing the Mass to make it more accessible, but in doing so, it removed much of the mystery.

Randy, 44, a courier for Federal Express, thinks a little mystery - along with substance and ancient symbolism - is a good thing.

'What is not accessible to the ears can be accessible to the soul,' he says. 'I don't think the church should relinquish that for modernity.'

Reporter Michelle Bearden can be reached at mbearden@tampatrib.com or (813) 259-7613.

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