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And so, on an August afternoon last week, the Dutch bishops announced the first fruits of a 2001 request from Rome to realise a new, more accurate translation of the Roman Missal. The process has long been in apparent limbo, although work must have progressed behind the scenes. There was little way of knowing it did, though, and as late as February of 2012, Cardinal Eijk stated that a new translation of the Lord’s Prayer – to be the same in both the Netherlands and Flanders, as the Congregation for Divine Worship and the Discipline of the Sacraments desired – would still be a long way off. But the differences are now overcome, and the Congregation gave its permission for use and publication on 10 June of this year. The bishops are still to announce exactly when the new texts may be used in the Churches.
As the process took so long and information about progress was so scant, there are still many questions. How exactly will the changes be introduced? Will the faithful simply be presented with a fact, or will there be suitable catechesis? Looking at a similar effort – the new English translation of the Missal – and some of the initial responses to the new text of the Lord’s Prayer, the need for catechesis seems obvious. It is perhaps a characteristic of the Dutch mentality that any change is looked upon with suspicion. What’s more, in matters of faith, one’s own feelings and experience of the new is contrasted with what is known, and the known is usually clung to. “I am going to keep praying the Our Father in my own words, because that’s the way I like it.” With a change of this kind, people not only need to know the reason for it, but also the reasons of these texts, in whatever translation, in the first place. Why do we pray the Our Father? Why does the Mass have the structure it has? Why use one word and not the other?
Words convey meaning, obviously. The words we use in prayer reflect the faith we have, and in that sense it goes both ways: we address God, but the words we utter also teach us. Words, the Word, is central to our faith. Christ speaks to us in the Gospel, the liturgy and even our own prayers, and what He tells us must be translated well. Translation can’t muddle up the original meaning. It’s too important for that.
I hope that the announcement of the new translation, as well as the publication of a first “small Missal” is a first step that is followed by a program of catechesis and education about the word we use and their meaning.
The Lord’s Prayer has existed for decades in both a Dutch and Flemish translation which differed in various places. These differences are by now ingrained in the collective consciousness of the faithful, so finding acceptable changes was a long and slow process. Not only did the new translation need to be more faithful to the Latin source, but it also needed to remain understandable. The words and passages that were the same in both versions were not changed, but the differences were. Here follows a brief look at what was changed. I’m offering English equivalents of the relevant Dutch translations, so this overview serves more as an explanation of the problems and their solutions, and not as an accurate reflection of the text.
The Latin text is as follows:
Pater noster qui es in caelis:
sanctificetur nomen tuum;
adveniat regnum tuum;
fiat voluntas tua,
sicut in caelo, et in terra.
Panem nostrum cotidianum da nobis hodie;
et dimitte nobis debita nostra,
sicut et nos dimittimus
et ne nos inducas in tentationem;
sed libera nos a malo.
1. in caelis: In the Dutch version this was translated as in heaven, while the Flemish used in the heavens. The plural used in Flanders is more accurate, but was deemed to be archaic. The Willibrord translation of the Bible also generally uses heaven in the singular, and this translation is most often used in the Mass. The choice was made to retain heaven in the singular.
2. sanctificetur nomen tuum: Translated as Your name be holy (or hallowed) in The Netherlands and Holy (or hallowed) be Your name in Flanders. The version of the Netherlands was retained in order to retain the structure of the first three supplications of the prayer, which all end with verbs (hallowed, come, done).
3. sicut in caelo, et in terra: Here the issue centered around the word as (sicut). The Netherlands use zoals, while Flanders uses als. Both words are close in meaning, with zoals something like like as, and als meaning as. The word sicut appears twice in the text and is translated the same both times in the Dutch and differently in the Flemish text. The choice was made for zoals, to keep both instances of the word the same in translation.
4. dimitte nobis debita nostra: Translated as Forgive us our trespass/mistake/guilt (singular) in the Netherlands and Forgive us our trespasses (plural) in Flanders. Debita is also plural, so the choice was made to retain the Flemish translation.
5. sicut et nos dimittimus debitoribus nostris: Here the translations differed significantly. The Netherlands had As we forgive others their trespassing, while Flanders used As we forgive our debtors. As mentioned above, sicut was translated zoals. The Netherlands translations translates the noun debitores with a description (others who trespass), while the Flemish also employ a noun (debtor, albeit not strictly in the financial sense). For this reason, and although the equivalent of debtor in this meaning is not very common in Dutch, the Flemish version was retained.
6. et ne nos inducas in tentationem: Here, no difference existed between the Dutch and Flemish versions: And lead us not into temptation. The reason to nonetheless change this lies in the Greek source text of the Gospels in which the Lord’s Prayer comes to us. A more correct translation of tentationem is not so much temptation as it is today generally understood, but with the added meaning of being put to the test. The old translation also seems to imply that it is God doing the tempting, while we ask Him not to lead us into it. This is incorrect, as we, for example learn from James 1:13: “Nobody, when he finds himself tempted, should say, I am being tempted by God. God may threaten us with evil, but he does not himself tempt anyone.” The new translation uses the Dutch beproeving, which may be translated as test, but also as ordeal or tribulation.
In a recent circular letter, the text of which I have only come across in Spanish, the Congregation for Divine Worship and the Discipline of the Sacraments announces some measures to ensure greater dignity and less distraction when it comes to the sign of peace in the Mass.
Although I have personally rarely experienced this moment in the Mass a overly distracting, its place in the liturgy may be considered odd, coming as it does at a moment when we are focussed on Christ among us in the bread and wine that have just been consecrated. We have prayed the Our Father and will soon come forward to receive Him in the communion. The sign of peace asks us to look to the people around us and exchange our wishes for peace with them. This can be distracting, as the question arises how many people to greet (just those immediately around you, the pews in front and behind you, people across the aisle?) and how long and in what manner to do so. In more enthusiastic societies, this may be fairly distracting and even disruptive in the atmosphere and focus of the liturgy. More subdued communities will, clearly, have less of a problem here.
In order to lessen this distraction and increase awareness of the actual meaning of the sign of peace, the Congregation proposes four things:
- It first emphasises that the gesture is not obligatory. The priest is free to decide when it is and is not suitable to invite the faithful to exchange the sign of peace. In my own parish I have seen this happen in weekday Masses, where there is no sign of peace, as opposed to the Masses on Sunday.
- Bishops’ conferences should think about making changes in how the sign of peace is made. Familiar and worldly greeting should be substituted with more appropriate ones. So, no high-fives, backslaps, bearhugs and such, but, for example, a short handshake, kiss, bow or other gesture.
- Clear abuses of the rite, like other liturgical abuses, are right out. No song of peace in place of a gesture between individual faithful, no roaming about the church looking for friends to greet, and during wedding or funeral Masses it should not be an occasion for congratulations or condolences.
- Lastly the Congregation urges the bishops’conferences to prepare catechesis on the sign of peace and how it should be observed.
In the end, the final point is the most important one: catechesis for both clergy and faithful. Without knowledge or awareness, there is no proper use or benefit. The sign of peace is never strictly horizontal, between people alone. It first has to be vertical, between God and man, before it can use its horizontal dimension. The sign of peace in the Mass is not like a regular greeting in the streets. In it we pass on the peace that Christ gives us (John 14:27), we must first receive before we can give. Let’s hope this letter will bear fruit.
And, dear Congregation, get some other official translations out…
Photo credit:  Jennifer Willems
Tomorrow Cardinal Wim Eijk will ordain Deacon Joost Baneke to the priesthood. In an interview for diocesan magazine Op Tocht, the nestor of the latest class of new priests stresses the importance of making our faith visible, not just as a task for himself as a future priest, but for all of us. In essence, showing our faith is nothing less than making Christ visible in the world. In that sense, the transferred feast of Corpus Christi, which we celebrate in the Netherlands on Sunday, is ideal for Deacon Baneke’s first Mass (for which he has something extra planned as well, we read…).
“It may sound strange, but when I wear my black deacon’s or priest’s clothing and collar, it gives me a sense of freedom. It is simple and clear, and who I am as a person does not really matter as much. In a sense I am clothed in Christ, that’s how I experience it. But sometimes it also triggers aversion in people. Why should we, even with a certain pride, not show in our clothing who we are and what we represent? I have heard several people say that, since the election of the current Pope, they are no longer ashamed of being Catholic. I find that fascinating: why that shame? I think we can show more of our Catholicism. That is what this Pope does very clearly, he does not hide his light under a bushel. That is why I have the intention of organising a procession on Corpus Christi, on the occasion of my first Holy Mass. It suits the Catholic traditions of Soest, the town I live in, which has one of the oldest Catholic fraternities in our country. There are conflicting reactions to the plan, but I think: let’s express our faith and give it room, let’s go literally out into the streets, into the world.
What’s more, when you organise such a manifestation, you may certainly try to achieve more unity among Christians by inviting faithful of other communities and think about the role they can play. It’s after all not about us, but about making Christ visible, and all Christians can take part in that. When you consider that there was a prohibition on processions in the Netherlands until the 1990s, such a tour through the fields of our parish also fits well with the thought of giving our faith room.”
Pilgrimage tomorrow. Not far, but it’s been far too long . I am looking forward to it.
Our Lady of the Garden Enclosed is no stranger on this blog. She’s permanently present in the side bar, and every now and then she appears in blog posts. Her shrine amid the fields of northern Groningen – what resident hermit Brother Hugo only half-jokingly refers to as the North Pole – is something of an oasis, a unique place of prayer and peace. Although the pilgrimage to it is short at almost 2 kilometers, the variation in wind, rain and sunlight makes for an effort that, for me, accompanies the spiritual effort of praying my way to the shrine.
The pilgrimage, which consists of Holy Mass in the parish church of nearby Wehe-den Hoorn, the procession and Holy Hour at the shrine in Warfhuizen, is unique, certainly in this part of the world, but no less among other devotional processions and pilgrimages. It is a blend of prayerful devotion and comfortable familiarity, of seriousness and familial humour. It is a remarkable phenomenon which participating faithful take seriously, and at the same time there are always surprises: non-cooperative weather conditions, a rather too top heavy processional cross, things that unexpectedly go missing… But it’s all part of the pilgrimage, just like the prayers and hymns, the sacrifice of the Mass and the physical effort. And in the end it all works out. Just not always as expected. But that’s how it works in a family too. No one is perfect, and no one needs to be before visiting Our Lady and her Son.
I’m travelling to Warfhuizen with a friend, but I have no plans for the return trip. When it’s time to go, it’s time to go. I’ll see when that is.
Time to recharge for a bit tomorrow.
He is said to work closely with Pope Francis in the latter’s future encyclical on ecology, and as such he has been interviewed several times, not only about his own work, but also about his expectations for the future. Bishop Erwin Kräutler, Austrian but living in Brazil, most recently appeared in an interview for Austrian daily Die Presse. And much like the statements of other perceived close collaborators of the Pope, such as Cardinal Walter Kasper and Bishop Nunzio Galantino, Bishop Kräutler’s words are their own source of concern.
You can read my translation of the interview here, but there are a few passages that I want to highlight.
A right to the Eucharist. Bishop Kräutler agrees when the interviewer states that faithful have a right to the Eucharist. The bishop is about half right. The Church has the duty to bring the Eucharist to the faithful as much as possible, but the faithful can not exercise a right to receive the Lord. No one has that right. The sacrifice of Christ on the Cross, which is made present in every Mass, making it possible for us to receive Him in Communion, was a free choice from the Lord. He was under no obligation to do that for us, but He did it all the same (which indicates what a mind-boggling event that really is). But no one could or can demand that He gives Himself to us.
- Celibacy. This is not really problematic, although I don’t agree with the bishop’s reasons. But the Eucharist does not depend on the priest’s celibacy, as the bishop claims. It depends on no characteristic of the priest, actually. If the priest does as Christ did, in unity with the Church, the consecration takes place and the Eucharist is celebrated.
- Bishops’ conferences. Bishop Kräutler dishonestly contrasts Pope Francis with Pope Benedict XVI, by stating that it was impossible to make proposals to any Pope before Francis. This is an obvious untruth, and it is shameful to depict Benedict as inactive, even unwilling, because he emphasised the importance of prayer.
- Ordination of women. The door is closed, but it’s still a door, so it may open. Nonsense. Pope St. John Paul II has been very clear that the Church is simply not able to ordain women, and Popes Benedict XVI and Francis have simply upheld this conclusion. Impossible things are not certainly possible because we want them to.
- Refusing Communion. A person’s conscience is indeed the first arbiter of whether or not we should come forward to Communion. But that conscience needs to be formed properly, and there the Church, in the persons of bishops and priests, has an important duty. To say that a bishop has no right to deny is denying an important duty he has.
The 1970s clearly are not dead yet…
One of the main problems with these kinds of ‘revelations’ and predictions of the future is that it’s all hearsay and speculation. We hear from secondary sources what the Pope did or did not say, wants or does not want, while we have no way to verify if his words were communicated accurately and completely. And in the case of Bishop Kräutler, Pope Francis’ actions are heavily tinted by the bishops own old-fashioned hopes and ideas. In the end, we can only wait until something actually happens.
Bishop Erwin Kräutler was born in Koblach, Austria, in 1939 and was ordained a priest for the Society of the Precious Blood in 1965, at which time he moved to Brazil. In 1980 he was appointed as Coadjutor Prelate of Xingu in Brazil, succeeding his own uncle, Bishop Eurico Kräutler in 1981. Xingu covers a large area of the east-central Amazon basin, with the city of Altamira at its heart.
A recognisable story via Kath.net today. Painter Michael Triegel from Leipzig, once an atheist, entered the Church last Easter, and it was Pope emeritus Benedict XVI who helped him cross the Tiber. Triegel became known in Catholic circles in 2010, when he was commissioned by the Diocese of Regensburg – then still headed by Bishop Gerhard Müller, now the Prefect of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith and a personal friend of the retired Pope – to paint an official portrait of Benedict.
^Triegel and the portrait he made, photographed in 2010.
Triegel himself doesn’t make a fuss about his conversion, although he recognises it is not something that happens every day. “You would not believe how often I have been asked over the past years, if I wanted to be baptised. There must have been telephone calls in higher Catholic circles, asking whether Triegel had already joined.” He was the atheist who painted the Pope, which made for juicy headlines. “Now I’m just an East German artist entering the Church. Also not exactly commonplace.”
What made him reach the momentous decision to receive the sacrament of Baptism was Benedict’s writings. “[These] were important, his theory that faith and knowledge need not contradict each other. For me that was the breaking point. [...] I foudn that faith entered my heart via my mind.”
Like I said, a recognisable story. My introduction to the faith and subsequent entrance into the Church coincided almost exactly with the start of the pontificate of Benedict XVI. He was elected in April of 2005, I first attended Mass in that year’s Advent. His magisterium has been instrumental in my discovery of the Church and the faith, and so also my personal development as a Catholic. Mr. Triegel’s “breaking point”, that faith and knowledge need not contradict each other, was also a major discovery for me. It shone through in all I read from Pope Benedict XVI, especially when I started blogging in 2010.
On the occasion of his Baptism, Triegel said, “When one concerns itself for 30 years with the true, the good, the beautiful and even with religion, it can’t remain without any consequences whatsoever. For me, now is the time to be baptised.”
Exsultet, Alleluiah! Christ has risen!
I don’t know about anyone else, but my Easter has been a rollercoaster ride, both personally and in how I experienced the Triduum this year. It’s not a given, but this time around I was really struck by how the celebrations of Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, Holy Saturday and Easter Sunday form one organic whole. On Maundy Thursday Mass began in the usual way, but it did not end. There was no final blessing, no closing hymn, but a silent procession out, followed by the altar and the entire sanctuary being cleared of all decorations – candles, altar cloths, crucifix – while the Lord under the appearance of bread was removed to the altar of repose. The next day, Good Friday, we returned to the empty church – not empty of people, but lacking what makes the building come alive, the Lord Jesus Christ – to medidate on the Stations of the Cross and, later that day, mark the salvation that His death on the cross brough us. On Saturday then, there was silence. No Mass, a sense of loss. But then, late in the evening, in a darkened church, a fire burns and lights the new paschal candle. From that candle the candles held by the faithful ware lit and as light floods the church, the priest sang the Exsultet. We sing the Gloria again, the church bells ring throughout. Easter, and Christ was risen. What began on Maundy Thursday is now completed.
The symbolism is strong in these days, and it should be. Mere words can not adequately convey what happened, and nor can actions do so completely. But together they can help in lifting our hearts and minds to understand in some sense the resurrection of the Lord, after so much suffering and pain. The hope in our hearts was kindled anew. And when it is, it becomes visible to those around us.
Easter is not the end of Lent, but the beginning of something new. Let it be a new beginning for all of us.
Over the past weekend, the news of the “plausible” abuse by Bishop Gijsen has obviously dominated Catholic news in the Netherlands. For some it was reason for renewed attacks against the Catholic Church, but what struck me most were the thought and feelings of those who had known Bishop Gijsen, who had entered seminary when he was bishop, who have him to thank for setting the first step towards finding their vocation. Those that I read all expressed feelings of confusion, of feeling lost. And that is what abuse, being a complete destruction of the bonds of trust and responsibility, does. It leaves victims stranded, alone, trying to build themselves up again and, too often, in the face of disbelief and accusations of lying.
Below, find my translation of the homily that Bishop Franz Wiertz gave on Monday, in a Mass of penance and reconciliation at Maastricht’s Basilica of the Assumption of Our Lady.
“It is Holy Week. For Christians this is a week during which they not only follow Christ in His suffering, but especially look at themselves in this light and question themselves about the why of this death of the cross. The first confessions of faith, which we find in the Acts of the Apostles and also in the First Letter to the Corinthians, indicate the why of the cross very clearly: “Died for our sins”. In order to expiate our sins the Lord died on the cross. This makes us fall silent and we prefer not to hear these words. We don’t like being told that we are people who are not spotless and thus guilty.
Perhaps we think it is a bit strange that the new Pope, when he was asked, “Who are you, Jorge Bergoglio? What do you say about yourself?”, answered, “I am a simply sinful human being.” That means that the Pope does not want to present himself smugly as a perfect person, but as a human being in whose life guilt and sin are also a reality. We struggle with this fact. It throws us back on ourselves.
It is not without reason that guilt and sin are topics which are addressed in many ways in modern literature. The French philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre, for example, devotes his play “The Flies” to the freedom of man and the responsibility that comes with it. But also to the feelings of guilt which are the result of choices made. The protagonist can’t live with these feelings of guilt. He tries to suppress them. Every attempt to chase them away is a stroke in the air. The flies return.
You can only come to terms with feelings of guilt by acknowledging them. Not by suppressing them. And certainly not by explaining away what happened. He who acknowledges guilt, will certainly also ask himself, “Who did I hurt? Who is the victim of the evil I have done? How can I repair what happened?”
Handling guilt is not easy for a person. It is more than a stain on one’s reputation. Guilt questions one’s own integrity. In response one attacks the evil of other with strong condemnations. Like David did when the Prophet Nathan told him the story of the rich man who prepared the poor man’s lamb for dinner. David suppressed how he had abused his own power and took the wife of Uriah for his own. How he then tried to hide his tracks by having Uriah die in battle.
Difficulty to accept our own guilt which is the consequence of the acts of her members, and taking responsibility for it, is also difficult for our own Church. Even this week we in the Netherlands and in our diocese were painfully confronted with the fact that a bishop, priests and religious abused their power and undermined their mission. They caused scandal, by actions that do not stand up to daylight: abuse of children and young people. There is nothing worse.
For decades it was denied or suppressed. Now that the true extent has become known, the shame is great. Parents entrusted their children to people of the Church, thinking that there was no safer place than that. Children entrusted themselves to people of the Church and they were abused. Their stories were often not believed.
Although this is also a social phenomenon, that can never be an excuse for people of the Church. Although it happened half a century ago, we experience it as an original sin which is almost impossible to atone for. But we must carry it with us. The Church also does not want to be reminded of the stains in her own reputation, and she frequently made the mistake of David by condemning the mistakes of people with great harshness and without mercy. Why did the Church respond like that? Is it shame? Is it fear of loss of prestige? Loss of face? Did they want to protect the institution more than the hurting victims?
It hurts to be confronted with these sinister and dark sides of the Church. We want to acknowledge that Church authorities and Church members have caused grave scandal and that they have been guilty of grievous acts. In that context the words “forgiveness” and “reconciliation” have perhaps been used too quickly. Since the extent of the abuse became known these concepts were for the victims like a red cloth for a bull. It angered them, because it was misguidedly used to avoid acknowledgement of the facts and to avoid to take responsibility.
This misguided use of the word “forgiveness” should never have happened, because it is a special word and it is a special phenomenon when forgiveness and reconciliation happens between people. But it should always be remembered that forgiveness and reconciliation confer no rights. They can only be received as an undeserved gift.
It always presumes a completely honest acknowledgement of one’s own guilt, without fleeing for the responsibility for what was done in the lives of people. Family members and partners of the victims must certainly not be forgotten in that. Forgiveness is only possible where it is preceded by the acknowledgment of guilt. Acknowledging guilt before the victim and for us a Church also acknowledgement of guilt before God. The forgiveness has a chance and there can be a future again. People can set off on the journey together again. Then they can find each other again as people and appreciate each other for what we can give each other.
May the time come that victims can give their trust to the Church and to people of the Church and forgive them for what was done to them. The Church must wait for that and in the meantime must continuously prove herself to be worthy of it. For now, we work hard together on a “road to reconciliation”. Amen.”
Photo credit: ANP
Goosebumps at Mass this morning as the choir sang the Anima Christi: