Whatever Benedict XVI may actually have said (or not said) about the work of J.K. Rowling, I hereby recommend the British author be awarded a small ceremonial plaque by one of those lay groups with a fanciful name: the Knights of the Sursum Corda, say.
After all, if we do witness an increase in the number of masses offered partly or mostly in Latin over the next generation, the recovery of this beautiful and richly meaningful practice will surely be aided by the growing numbers of children — including many children of Catholic families — studying the Latin language today. Why the upsurge in interest? Turns out Arrius Potterus (as he is known in the new Latin translation of Rowling's first book) gets a good deal of the credit.
According to recent press reports, "the Potter effect," as some teachers now refer to it, has kindled new enthusiasms among young readers, including a fascination with the Latin phrases and "classical" curriculum of Hogwarts School. (The school's motto: Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus, or "Never Tickle a Sleeping Dragon".)
And how many such students are we talking about here? We know that from a mid-1970s low of just 150,000 public school students of Latin in this country, the numbers today are substantially larger and growing, with perhaps a quarter-million public, private and homeschooling students of Latin (and Greek) at the middle and high school levels today. About 123,000 of these will take the National Latin Exam this year.
Apologists for Latin (and Greek) have always argued that these subjects tap into the very roots of our civilization — linguistically, historically, culturally. For those parents focused mostly on academic achievement, we might recall the 1997 report by the American Council for the Teaching of Foreign Languages which found that the average verbal SAT score for students of Latin was 647, far higher than the national average of 505.
But whatever the intellectual value of classical languages, is the resurgence of Latin particularly important to committed Catholics? In my opinion, it is very much so, for three main reasons.
First, an appreciation for Latin amounts to an appreciation for Western (and Catholic) history itself.
What, for example, has the Latin Mass meant to the Polish people? As historian Paul Johnson once pointed out, it has always been a symbol of Poland's link — and its allegiance — to the West. Had this not been the case, might modern history have turned out differently? For those who can draw a straight line from Dignitatis Humanae (the Vatican II document on religious freedom) to Poland's Solidarity party, and from there to the fall of communism, the question is not a far-fetched one.
Amidst the noisy and wrong-headed squabble between the Traditionalists and the Progressives we've been subjected to for a generation now, it's worth simply noting — whatever your Church "politics" — the way in which the Latin Mass is a multi-sensory symbol of Western civilization (or better, Christendom) itself. All of which, of course, is entirely apart from the question of whether your parish might benefit from offering an occasional Mass in Latin.
Second, an understanding of the importance of Latin in our Church's theological history will help us accomplish something very worthwhile: namely, to separate the opinions of the Traditionalists from the important role of Tradition itself. Here's what I mean.
A major force in the thinking of the Council fathers of Vatican II was the ressourcement movement, an effort by scholars in the 1930s and 1940s to ground Catholic theology and liturgy in the somewhat forgotten writings of the early Church fathers — who wrote, of course, in Greek and Latin. Studying the development of the liturgy over time enabled these scholars to free themselves from an ahistorical tendency to view the Tridentine mass as a kind of perfection frozen in time — a view which would keep fides and ratio too far apart, you might say.
So classical (specifically, patristic) scholarship was one major key to the renewal envisioned in Vatican II. It's even behind more recent evangelization efforts. Take that excellent guide to a solidly Catholic interpretation of the Bible, Making Senses Out of Scripture: Reading the Bible as the First Christians Did. As I think author Mark Shea would cheerfully agree, his book could not have been written had he not been able to build upon scholarly research on fourfold interpretation of the Vulgate — by scholars (none of whom could be considered "Traditionalists") who were steeped in a knowledge of Latin.
All of which leads me to conclude: While some liturgically progressive friends of mine seem to associate a study of Latin with a longing for Generalissimo Franco and the advent of theological firing squads, I personally associate the subject with the rise of evangelical Catholicism — a liberating force if there ever was such a thing.
Third, Latin is the language of one of the Church's greatest treasures: the psalmody of Gregorian chant. If you have never tried to read one of the great Psalms in Latin, you may be surprised to discover that the language of the Vulgate Bible is not only not difficult but quite beautiful. Try C.S. Lewis' favorite, Psalm 19, Coeli enarrant ("The heavens declare the glory of God"), or Psalm 137, Super flumina ("By the waters of Babylon"). Then perhaps you will agree with Chesterton: "Latin is not dead: it is immortal."
)
That was the year before I converted to the pre-V II Church at 15. I found it interesting that I could "participate" at Mass when others read their bulletins or prayed a rosary. Even all these (many) years later, although I couldn't congegate a verb if my life depended on it, I retain enough to "get the gist".
Leave a Reply
You must be logged in to post a comment.