Sacredness Of Tradition, The

by Alice von Hildebrand

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The secular duel between Satan and the Church has, since Vatican II, reached unheard of proportions; all the forces of hell seem to be loose, and the Church is shaken to her very foundations.

The satanic tools are varied; the least dangerous of them are overt attacks on the Church, for every frontal assault on the Bride of Christ has always benefited her; she thrived under persecutions; the blood of her martyrs has fecundated her apostolate and conquered souls for the kingdom of God.

Much more dangerous, because more insidious, are the hidden techniques which the Evil One has devised: one of them infiltration from within (Judas was one of the twelve) and the other the erosion (or outright abolition) of sacred customs and traditions.

Our concern here is not with the vital importance of Tradition in Catholic dogmatic and moral teaching, but exclusively within tradition, (with a small t) in the sense of venerable customs.

The latter is the theme we are now addressing. Two questions must be distinguished: first, can customs and traditions be legally abrogated by Church authorities? Second, is it desirable that they should be eliminated?

The answer to the first question is obviously "yes." The Pope as head of the Church has the right to abolish certain traditions. But the question remains: Is it desirable that he should do so — and does their abolition always serve the good of the Church?

Centuries ago, Platonic wisdom taught us that " . . . tradition, if no breath of opposition ever assails it, has a marvelous power."¹ For tradition not only links us to a living past, but insures continuity, meaningfulness and shelteredness. Far from being dead, our religious past is the sap that gives the present its living force.

This should not be interpreted to mean that nothing is ever to be changed. That would amount to advocating stunted growth and, moreover, would strip tradition of its authentic meaning by stubbornly adhering to the letter, while neglecting the spirit. But when a pope decides to abolish a long established custom, he should carefully distinguish between those that are clearly outdated (whose importance related exclusively to a particular time or to particular circumstances), and those that — being rooted in unchanging values — should be preserved. To eliminate the latter amounts to severing the precious bond linking the faithful to their past.

A serious danger arises when some religious leaders, suffering from spiritual somnolence, lose sight of the meaningfulness of venerable customs; their true meaning having been obfuscated, they mindlessly rescind them because they no longer perceive their mission and timeless importance in religious life.

Supernatural wisdom should be the guiding thread evaluating whether or not certain traditions are to be preserved. To repeal them is always questionable when the authorities responsible for this decision only cater to the restless and volatile spirit of the time.

Once again, let me quote Plato: "Any change whatever except from evil is the most dangerous of all things."² This is why he urges legislators "to find a way of implanting this reverence for antiquity."³

Alas, since Vatican II, the Roman Catholic Church has abandoned several of her most venerable customs and traditions, and it is our contention that this has both weakened and damaged the spiritual life of the faithful.

The list is long, but I shall limit myself to some of them. The first that deserves our attention is Paul VI's lifting the prohibition to eat meat on Fridays.

It is typical of Catholic theology (which is anti-Gnostic to its very core), to stress the unity of body and soul, and to highlight that bodily actions and activities cannot only assume a symbolic meaning, but moreover, have a positive or negative influence on the soul's spiritual development.

It is noteworthy that world religions prescribe certain dietary laws which their adherents are bound to observe. (The Orthodox Jews are not permitted to eat non-kosher food; the Moslems must observe the Ramadan; the Hindus are vegetarians, etc.). St. Benedict wrote in his rule that monks should abstain from meat at all times,⁴ except when either sick or debilitated; this rule used to apply to most religious orders.

Why were Roman Catholics told to abstain from meat on Fridays? The reason is obvious: it was to remind them that our Savior died for us on that particular day, and to invite them to do penance and make sacrifices on that very day in remembrance of Christ's crucifixion.

Was this positive commandment harsh to obey? Did it put the faithful under undue stress and difficulty? Clearly not. As a matter of fact, in her loving wisdom, the Church had spelled out several valid excuses that exempted the faithful from this commandment: travellers, sick, weak or elderly people; young children under the age of seven; dramatic situations (war, famine, etc.); charity (for example, when a Roman Catholic was invited by a non-Catholic who forgot to respect the Catholic prohibition and served meat; refusal to eat the prepared meal would amount to humiliating the host, and therefore be a lack of charity.

Not only was this tradition deeply meaningful, but it in no way imposed unbearable burdens on the faithful, burdens that "modern man" could not possibly shoulder. Everything spoke in favor of its being preserved; nothing objective could be said in favour of its abolition.

Why was it abolished: one is tempted to assume that Church authorities, under the influence of the Zeitgeist, were convinced that certain traditions constituted an unnecessary ballast which actually prevented the faithful from concentrating on what truly mattered. They made the fashionable mistake of identifying "secondary" with "unimportant," a confusion which has gained currency today and which leads people to break certain moral laws on the ground that they are "secondary," and therefore not important. Not long ago, I heard the head of a religious order claim that the question of the ordination of women and artificial contraception were "secondary" issues to which the faithful gave too much importance.

Secondary Is Not Unimportant

Granted that there is a hierarchy both among the "weight" of revealed truths and among moral obligations, e.g., a positive law of the Church is not as important as a divine commandment and therefore can be deemed "secondary," it is a great mistake to assume that those are therefore "negligible" and can be broken with impunity.

That the positive law commanding abstinence on Fridays was "secondary" should not be interpreted to mean that it was unimportant, and could be broken at will. As a matter of fact, the Church taught that the willful neglect of this modest obligation constituted a serious sin, and could be a mortal sin if accompanied by other conditions, (namely, full knowledge and full consent).

Abstinence on Fridays was a long established practice, and a deeply meaningful one; for this reason, it should have been kept. To abrogate this law has eroded a precious tradition, and has certainly contributed to the spiritual decadence and laxity which we witness today.

Granted that Pope Paul VI did invite Catholics to replace abstinence by some other sacrifice of their own choosing, one wonders how many faithful ever think about it today, and the members of the younger generation are now totally unaware that sacrifices are called for on Fridays. The sad truth is that — deprived for years of orthodox teaching — they probably do not even know what the word "sacrifice" means.

With due reverence to all decisions made by the Holy See, I suggest that this decision was both regrettable and unnecessary; it has ruptured a link in the golden chain of tradition connecting Roman Catholics to their glorious past, and has definitely weakened the faithful's spiritual life.

In the same vein, we can deplore the fact that the tradition of kneeling while receiving Holy Communion has been abolished.

Whether this abolition was officially prescribed by the Holy See or whether individual bishops introduced this practice in their diocese is irrelevant. The fact is that, since Vatican II, most altar rails have been removed (at great cost and with iconoclastic zeal), discouraging or even preventing the faithful from kneeling. In Belgium, some new churches are so built that kneeling is rendered impossible; the whole congregation remains sitting during the whole Mass; it is only at the moment of consecration that people stand up for a few brief moments.

Once again, a sacred tradition has been ruptured, and we can raise the question — why?

One sharp distinction between the Roman Catholic Church, and the Orthodox Church on the one hand, and the twenty-seven thousand Protestant sects on the other, is that the former believe in the real presence of our Lord and Savior in the Holy Eucharist, whereas Protestants believe it to be a mere symbol.

As Roman Catholics take seriously the words of Christ "My flesh is food indeed, and my blood is drink indeed,"⁵ and therefore firmly believe that Christ is physically present under the species of bread and wine, the only appropriate physical posture in response to this unfathomable mystery is adoration, best expressed in our culture by kneeling. It would make no sense whatever for Protestants to kneel in front of a mere symbol. All of us know full well that if Christ were to appear visibly to us, we would immediately prostrate ourselves in front of him (a response exemplified again and again in the Gospel). The fact that we now stand — that is, no longer take a physical posture which alone is appropriate for adoration — is bound to weaken the faith of the faithful in the real presence of Christ in the Eucharist. For if our spiritual beliefs influence our bodily behavior, our bodily behavior necessarily has an effect upon our soul — a psychological truth that has been deeply understood by St. Benedict, the father of western monasticism.

One is permitted to raise a question: Was this sacred and deeply meaningful tradition abolished to accommodate Protestants who took offense at this "Catholic idolatry"? Was this unfortunate step taken to make an ecumenical gesture that would placate our separated brethren? Whether this gesture of reconciliation has, in fact, brought Protestants an inch closer to the one true faith can be questioned; but that it has had a negative effect on the faith of Roman Catholics can hardly be contested.

An Atmosphere Of Desacralization

Communion in the hand is another case in point. This practice was first introduced in Belgium by Cardinal Suenens, in flagrant disobedience to the rubrics given by the Holy See. Not wishing to publicly reprove a brother bishop, Paul VI decided to lift the ban prohibiting communion in the hand, and left the decision to individual bishops. Overnight the practice was universalized, and there have been some isolated cases of priests refusing to give communion to parishioners who knelt and wished to receive communion on the tongue.

Apart from the fact that once again, a long established tradition has been broken, communion in the hand has two obvious drawbacks. First of all, we live in a climate of desacralization, while what is urgently needed today is to re-establish sacrality in our churches. When an object is sacred or precious, the first thing that comes to mind are the words: "do not touch it." It is a sign of respect, and when this is no longer practiced, it is an ominous indication that the duty to show reverence to sacred objects and persons is no longer perceived. The prohibition to touch objects is rigorously enforced in museums; a fortiori, it should be enforced in Roman Catholic churches where Christ is physically present.

Moreover, the abolition of this regulation tends to weaken the essential distinction which exists between a priest and a lay person; whereas the former's hands are consecrated by the sacrament of Holy Orders, the latter (who may be just as holy or even holier as an individual person), has not received this privilege. To allow lay people to touch the Body of Christ, and to handle the chalice containing his Holy Blood, is bound to make the faithful forget the fundamental difference, which exists between the priesthood of the priest, and what is called the priesthood of all people, strongly emphasized by Luther. The former can consecrate; the latter cannot; the former can forgive sin; the latter cannot.

Surprisingly enough, many priests — forgetting or repressing the amazing privilege they have received (some of them even seem burdened by this privilege) — encourage this levelling; many of them choose to dress like lay people, and make it impossible for the faithful to distinguish them from the laity. Rare are those who wear a Roman collar — and those who do are sometimes chided by Church authorities for doing so! — and yet the Roman collar is a symbolic expression of the extraordinary dignity priests have received. Their very garb calls for reverence.

One is tempted to raise the question: Why are many priests so anxious to make people forget that they are ordained? Is it uncharitable to assume that it is because, having lost their faith and the sensus supernaturalis, they can no longer appreciate the greatness of their calling, and the awesome responsibility which it carries with it?

In the framework of this article, I shall abstain from discussing an innovation which is so crucial that it breaks the limits we have here imposed on ourselves, namely, the change in the Liturgy. This topic has been so admirably dealt with by Msgr. Gamber that all we need is to refer to it.

Sacred Cord Of Tradition Frayed

Another custom that has been discarded is the veil that women used to wear upon entering a Catholic Church. This custom goes back to St. Paul.⁶ The passion for change, the irrational rejection of whatever has its roots in the past, the rebelliousness which characterizes our immature and childish generation, seem to account for this. Probably the feminists interpreted this custom as an indication women were considered to be inferior to men who always entered churches bareheaded, and was therefore a form of "discrimination."

But any intelligent person should "discriminate" between truth and error, between good and evil, between beauty and ugliness, and also between men and women because they are different. The dictionary defines "discrimination" as "the discernment of distinction," "to note the differences between." The discriminating person is the intelligent one who refuses to see as one what is obviously distinct. This is the primary meaning of the word "discrimination." But today most people seem to ignore this primary and essential meaning, and always interpret "discrimination" to mean unfairness and injustice.

We should discriminate between men and women because the two sexes are different; this difference is in no way merely biological but also spiritual, intellectual and psychological. For this reason, it was meaningful that women should be veiled while in church because the veil symbolizes both mystery and sacredness; let us not forget that it is to women — and not to men — that the mystery of life is confided, and that it is in the secret of their bodies that the soul of the newly conceived human being is created. Chesterton in pondering what he called "that frightful female privilege" (the one of giving birth), was led to write "that no one . . . can quite believe in the equality of the sexes."⁷

We cannot conclude without alluding to the last break with tradition which has recently taken place in allowing girls to serve at the altar. This has taken place a few years after the publication of Inaestimabile Donum which solemnly outlawed this practice. Numerous are the faithful Roman Catholics that have been shaken by this decision; not only does this permission seem to reward disobedience (since many bishops had long allowed this practice in their dioceses in fragrant disregard of the rubrics of the Holy See) but, once again, the sacred cord of tradition has been dangerously frayed. I shall not discuss the dogmatic repercussions, which this decision may have; this is being done by many who are better qualified than I am. I shall limit myself to the theme I have assigned to myself: the rupture with a venerable tradition. No doubt, John Paul II has agonized over this decision and yielded to pressure for "pastoral" reasons. We should not forget that, as St. Augustine rightly emphasizes, God can always bring good out of evil, but the fact remains that the spiritual life of the faithful is once again put to a severe test. Contemporary Catholics find themselves more and more jailed in the narrow prison of "their" time, "their" nations, "their" secular mores, and of the contemporary mediocrity, which seems to be the birthmark of our epoch. Instead of breathing the pure supranational, supratemporal air of the supernatural, they are more and more forced to breathe the rarefied air of moral, spiritual, intellectual and artistic decadence; no wonder that they are gasping for breath.

Not only do we live in an age of "uncommon nonsense,"⁸ but actually in an age of total confusion. Men no longer seem capable of discriminating between truth and error, light and darkness, good and evil. It is crucial for our very survival that we should go back to sanity, and one way of doing so is to fight the deplorable (and un-poetic) unisex mentality, which is one of the most ominous symptoms of our anti-culture. Chesterton was right when he wrote that to identify what is different is bound to lead to inequality; history will show that women have been sacrificed on the altar of feminism.

For men and women, while equal in dignity, are different and therefore are called upon to fulfill different functions. Men symbolize the active principle; woman the receptive one (which is not to be identified with passivity); this rich complementarity finds its expression not only in the mystery of the sexual sphere, but on a much higher level, in the fact that the dignity of the priesthood is assigned to men and not to women. It is right and proper that it should be a human male who actively duplicates the words Christ spoke at the Last Supper; while to the human female has been assigned the glorious function of sacred receptivity, so powerfully expressed in the words of the Holy Virgin, the blessed one among women, and the most perfect of all creatures. It was she who gave women their holy motto: "Be it DONE to me according to Thy word."⁹

To conclude: tradition (which for Roman Catholics is as important as the Bible) should not be limited to matters of dogma and morals. It also includes forms of worship which go back for centuries and which establish a living bond between the past of the Church and the present. It is most unwise to proclaim that the second form of tradition is "secondary" and can therefore be abolished. Let me repeat emphatically; secondary does not mean nonimportant; it means less important. But something less important can nevertheless be of great significance.

Should we despair? Far from it. First of all, we have the divine promise that "the gates of hell shall not prevail against the Church";¹⁰ Christ is sleeping in the boat of the Church, but with one single word, he can appease the tempest we are traversing. Moreover, there are hopeful signs appearing on the horizon: one is the revival of the Tridentine Mass which is not only spreading more and more in many dioceses, but is attracting a whole crop of young people, starving for a sacredness which they rarely find in their parishes. Another is that new religious orders are being born to replace those, which, because of the unfaithfulness of their members, have fallen into total decadence.

Moreover, Gregorian Chant (banished from many parishes since Vatican II) is now being rediscovered by millions of secular young people who long for sacrality and have never tasted the sweetness of this angelic food. Not long ago, The New York Times reported that Gregorian Chant is on the very top of the best-seller list in various countries. This should give our bishops and priests food for thought; this sublime music which links us to our glorious past has been ostracized since Vatican II, and replaced by mediocre nondescript music which has nothing sacred about it. May church authorities hear the message and reintroduce it in our churches.

When confronted with a tragic secularization, the faithful should always turn to spiritual arms: prayer and sacrifice. But they should also use every legitimate human means, and respectfully beg their bishops and parish priests to reestablish important traditions such as replacing the Blessed Sacrament on the main altar, and veiling the tabernacle; they should express their desire to have both benediction and the Forty Hour devotion re-introduced in parish life. They should do so in season and out of season, with reverence for the office of our pastors, but with a simultaneous consciousness of their right to fight for their spiritual needs. How can true pastors turn down the reverent and legitimate requests coming from their children?

Notes

1. Laws, 836.

2. Laws, 797.

3. Laws, 798.

4. Chapter 39.

5. John 6:53.

6. 1 Cor. 11:3-15.

7. What Is Wrong with the World, Sheed and Ward, 1942, p. 192.

8. St. Thomas Aquinas, Sheed and Ward, p. 10. 9. Luke, 1:38. 10. Matt. 16:18.

Dr. Alice von Hildebrand was born in Brussels, Belgium. She earned her Ph.D. in philosophy at Fordham University. She was the wife of the famous philosopher, Dietrich von Hildebrand. She is the author of Introduction to Philosophy and collaborated with her husband in the writing of Situation Ethics, Graven Images, and The Art of Living. Her most recent book is By Love Refined (Sophia Institute Press 1989). She has lectured extensively and is Professor Emeritus at Hunter College of the City University of New York.

© Catholic Polls, Inc. 1995.

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