Bishop Martin and personal liturgical preferences

By Dr. Jeff Mirus ( bio - articles - email ) | May 29, 2025

As I recently mentioned in an email to colleagues, I know that I have the liturgical sensibilities of a mouse. The Liturgy has never been, for me, something that I thought I was supposed to enjoy. When I consider the laws of the Church, I notice that one of those laws is to attend Mass on Sundays and Holy Days. Because I understand what the Mass is, I regard this as a very minimal requirement, and in fact it is extremely rare that I fail to turn up at Mass on all seven days of the week.

But I have never enjoyed it, and so I have always assumed that my enjoyment is not the Church’s point. I have further assumed that the obligation to attend Mass was formulated by the Church for my benefit, and that going beyond the minimal obligation is even more beneficial. I may not enjoy Mass, but I do want to draw closer to God, and I know I need all the grace I can get. But if I am wrong about the unimportance of enjoying Mass…then I am damned.

Now we see only as through a glass, darkly; only later will we see face to face. So I suggest that all liturgical discussions should start with this principle: While enjoyment of the Mass is in itself a fine gift, that enjoyment is not the gift that makes us holy. And from this derives an important and fundamental principle: Taking pleasure in spiritual things is a blessing, but if our motives are governed by the pleasure, that pleasure can rapidly become a curse. That pleasure can become an impediment to the reception of grace—a substitution of our own sensibilities for the virtues of faith, hope and love.

It is easy for me to grasp this particular point, however hard it might be for me to grasp other points involving spiritual delectation or even Divine rapture. So you might think I wouldn’t care a feather about Bishop Michael Martin’s effort to stamp out all liturgical variations in Charlotte, North Carolina, or even commend it as a slap at those who, unlike myself, have real liturgical feelings.

But it is just here that my noble simplicity makes me complicated.

Liturgical liberty

When I speak of Bishop Martin’s effort to stamp out liturgical variations, I am actually referring to two separate measures. One, which I understand has already been put into effect, overrides the desire of many people and a significant group of diocesan priests to continue to make the Latin Mass (according to the 1962 Missal) widely available. Instead, it relegates that liturgy to one specific (and for most people hard to reach) chapel which is being prepared for that purpose, in effect removing it completely from ordinary parish life. The other, prepared while Pope Francis was still alive but not yet officially promulgated, sets forth a comprehensive set of rules—and, to some extent, particular theological opinions or emphases—for the celebration of the ordinary form of the Mass throughout the diocese. I am considering both of these together here without constant differentiation, for reasons that should become obvious.

To begin with, I hate it when Churchmen speak out of both sides of their mouths. I am willing to wager a good deal that Bishop Martin is a vigorous proponent of the adaptation and indigenization of the liturgy for cultures which have strong attachments to different ways of doing things. Therefore, I will assume without presenting arguments that there is something he vigorously dislikes about any attachment to the liturgical form which has been the most universal form ever in the history of the Church. It would be unwarranted to draw further inferences, but it seems to me that at least a related question is permissible: Have we seen, historically speaking, that this particular animus very often goes hand-in-hand with a dislike of various aspects of Catholic faith and morals which have been even more universal throughout the history of the Church?

The ancient Catholic Latin expression, lex orandi, lex credendi (“the rule of prayer is the rule of belief”), is not out of place in such a discussion. One may reasonably ask whether major liturgical shifts away from traditional forms do not suggest a certain pliability in matters of faith and morals, or at least a certain sense that we might all become culturally up-to-date without any fear at all. Religious sensibilities are strange things; they tend to take root in the soul. Genuine liturgical renewal is therefore inescapably one of the touchiest of subjects. Much as I personally appreciate the simple, clear and more obvious focus on the liturgy of the Word and the liturgy of the Eucharist in the dominant form of the liturgy in the Roman Catholic Church today, there are always unfortunate aspects to what we might call “modernization” for Catholics—including a negative impact on the concept of that vital Tradition which is a Divinely-guaranteed source of faith and morals.

It is also at least still an open question whether the post-Vatican II liturgical reforms have fully achieved the vision of the Council’s Constitution on the the Sacred Liturgy (Sacrosanctum Concilium), though of course there have been other liturgical texts issued by the Holy See since that time. Moreover, it is very clear that the suppression of what we loosely call the Latin Mass (particularly in accordance with the 1962 Missal) has not gone well. It would seem prudent to thoroughly examine the reasons for this rather than to treat the many millions of Catholics who remain devoted to the Latin Mass as obstacles to liturgical “progress”—a word which, apart from personal spiritual progress, seldom rings true.

Perhaps most importantly, it is exceedingly suspect that anyone who values liturgical uniformity as much as Bishop Martin seems to do should have so little sympathy with those who seriously regret the loss of the very widespread liturgical uniformity which existed in the Roman Catholic world just two or three generations ago—a uniformity that extended not only across great distances but over a very long span of time.

Breathing

In an exchange of emails after reading Bishop Martin’s proposal for uniform liturgical practice, I suggested that what the bishop prefers is not so very terrible in itself, but wondered, “Has the oxygen just been sucked from the room?” Is an intensely prescriptive liturgical pettiness really the path to what St. Paul described as “the glorious liberty of the children of God” (Rom 8:21)?

The line between liturgical order and disorder can be exceedingly fine, and it is the job of bishops to make it visible. But here we are not speaking of random celebrant-induced variations but of preferences for a liturgical form that was the most widely adopted in the entire history of the Church. Does this mean that this particular form may not be modified? Certainly not. But it ought to mean at least that those who cherish it deserve episcopal respect—and may be honestly commended, at least in some aspects of their discontent, for their spiritual perspicacity.

I have never been convinced that the Church must stand or fall with one particular form of the liturgy. This is an attitude which is not only rubrically but historically and theologically without foundation. But surely it is wise to recognize that the current dominant form grew at least partly out of a desire to speak more effectively to an increasingly secular world which was drifting away from any conception of Catholic centrality. One question to be considered is whether this has been successful. And if not particularly successful, that suggests fresh grounds for revering the previous form. I admit that, to me, the particular form of the liturgy at any given moment has always appeared to be overrated as an inducement to conversion and piety, but perhaps that is actually one more argument for allowing more breathing room by both retaining access to the older form and re-incorporating some important aspects of it into the newer form (as Pope Benedict himself thought wise).

If I were a bishop, I would want to take very seriously the objections of those who are appalled by an over-simplified and lock-step “modern” liturgical uniformity, which many see as a genuine impoverishment despite the legitimately noble simplicity of the Roman Rite. And I would welcome the prudent enrichments that have already begun to develop over time in appreciation for the Catholic tradition. I also understand and value the persistent attraction of the previous very long-standing liturgical form. These should not be impermissible goods, and a preference for these should not serve to place Catholics into the one group which any bishop may choose to marginalize.

Given my own liturgical affective deficiencies, I am also sensitive to the dangers of excessive attachment to any particular liturgical form. Prayer and spiritual introspection are demanded of all parties to discern attachments that are not inspired by God. But people do need to be able to breathe spiritually. So, again, I ask: Why suck the liturgical air out of what is by Our Lord’s own design an inescapably liturgical Church?