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Post by hibernicus on Nov 29, 2011 23:12:02 GMT
A spoof on the apocalyptic mindset (pro and con) surrounding the new translation by an US Catholic commenter. I would draw particular attention to the opening of the fifth seal, for the benefit of those ACP types who ruthlessly impose their own approach on everyone but complain about being overruled themselves: The Four Liturgists of the Apocalypse Share by Jimmy Akin Sunday, November 27, 2011 11:36 AM Comments (69) The Register recently asked me to do a post on what I saw at Mass this Sunday, the first Sunday of Advent, the first Sunday using the new translation of the Roman Missal. Happy to oblige! So here’s what happened . . . I arrived at Mass a few minutes early and took my seat in the pew. The particular parish I was attending had not done a lot of prep work for the new translation. In fact, I saw that the Roman Missal they had was still in its shiny, new shrinkwrap. And behold, there were seven seals upon its shrinkwrap. I heard the cantor proclaiming with a loud voice, “Who is worthy to open the Missal and break its seals?” And no one in the parish was able to open the Missal or to look into it, and I wept much that no one was able to open the Missal, for I was really looking forward to the new translation. Then the pastor said, “Weep not. This will only take a moment.” And when the pastor opened one of the seven seals, I heard one of the four living choir members say, as with a voice of thunder, “Come!” And I saw, and behold, a white horse, and its rider was a liturgist; and a crown was given to her, and she went out conquering and to conquer. When he opened the second seal, I heard the second living choir member say, “Come!” And out came another horse, bright red; its liturgist was permitted to take peace from the parish, so that people should form factions and grumble against one another; and she was given a great sword. When he opened the third seal, I heard the third living choir member say, “Come!” And I saw, and behold, a black horse, and its liturgist had a set of political talking points in her hand; and I heard what seemed to be a voice in the midst of the four living choir members saying, “A dearth of jobs in the economy; but do not harm the taxes or the new medical care program!” When he opened the fourth seal, I heard the voice of the fourth living choir member say, “Come!” And I saw, and behold, a green horse, and its rider’s name was Envy, and Bitterness followed her. When he opened the fifth seal, I saw under the altar the souls of the parishioners who had been slain for complaining about liturgical abuses and for the witness they had borne. They cried out with a loud voice, “How long must we suffer this squishy, 1970s translation?” Then they were each given a white choir robe and told to rest a little longer, until the number of their fellow parishioners and their brethren and sistren should be complete, who were to be killed as they themselves had been. When he opened the sixth seal, I looked, and behold, there was a great earthquake; and the sun became black as sackcloth, the full moon became like blood, and the stars of the sky fell to the earth as when the California eucalyptus tree sheds its sap all over your car, which you have parked under it in the parking lot, because that was the only space there was. And when the pastor opened the seventh seal, there was silence in the parish for about half an hour, and no one was able to speak a word. For it turned out that the liturgists were right! The new translation was entirely “unproclaimable”! And then the world ended.... END OF EXTRACT www.ncregister.com/blog/jimmy-akin/the-four-liturgists-of-the-apocalypseh/t to Mark Shea, whose own experience of the new translation (and those of his readers) are here; www.patheos.com/blogs/markshea/2011/11/jimmy-akin-is-a-genius.html
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Post by hibernicus on Nov 30, 2011 18:43:51 GMT
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Post by hibernicus on Dec 14, 2011 20:56:57 GMT
Fr Dwight Longenecker offers some thoughts on what was wrong with the old translation and what are the unexamined assumptions of those who object to the new one: EXTRACTS Of course it’s good that everyone understands what’s going on, but the good is the enemy of the best, and mere intelligibility is not really what the liturgy is all about. If intelligibility were the only good then we ought to get to work on the classics and have Hamlet say, “Gee whiz, I can’t decide whether to kill myself or not!” instead of “To be or not to be? That is the question.” Then in the midst of my meanderings a quotation by Einstein reminded me that the words of worship are about more than mundane intelligibility. Einstein wrote, “Imagination is more important than knowledge. For knowledge is limited to all we now know and understand, while imagination embraces the entire world, and all there ever will be to know and understand.” Bingo! Imagination is more important than knowledge because knowledge is limited to what we now know. Knowledge is, if you like, utilitarian. It’s useful. It works. As such, it closes the mind and heart with a solution. Imagination on the other hand, opens the mind and heart with wonder and with the apprehension of beauty. If knowledge is utilitarian, then (on its own–without imagination) it is also barbaric. If there is any question that utilitarianism is barbaric take a look at the practical, ugly buildings that have been built in the last fifty years that pass for Catholic churches. What came into the church, in the wake of the second Vatican Council, was an unthinking acceptance of certain tenets of secular modernism – one of the most fundamental and insidious being utilitarianism – or the barbaric belief that what works is good. When this frightening aphorism was unthinkingly stood on its head, not only “what works was good”, but “what is good is that which works”, and consequently the only “Good” became “whatever works”. This unquestioned utilitarianism influenced not only church architecture, but every aspect of Catholic life. Suddenly there was no use for such “pointless people” as contemplative monks and nuns. They all had to develop “ministries”. Church became a kind of club for social activists and do-gooders, and the Mass became the “gathering time” when we all met to think about Jesus the noble martyr and how we could change the world, and so we sang the rousing anthem, “We can make a difference. Yes we can!” The 1973 translation of the liturgy fit into this modern utilitarian-determined church. The theory of “dynamic equivalency” dictated that the noble Latin language should not be translated literally. The words were too difficult. The concepts too arcane. The grammar and syntax too complex. Like a bare, modern church; like the polyester vestments; like the pottery vessels and the felt banners and the padded pews and the glory and praise music, the liturgy was supposed to be useful and understandable and plain. It ended up being beige, boring and bland, and the suburban clergy facilitated it all with a kind of dull resignation-topped layer of Kool Whip enthusiasm. It was a case of the bland leading the bland. The dull liturgy left nothing to the imagination, and this is where the great liturgist Albert Einstein steps in and says, “Imagination is more important than knowledge. For knowledge is limited to all we now know and understand, while imagination embraces the entire world, and all there ever will be to know and understand.” The banal translation of 1973 – in its sincere attempt to make the mass intelligible – was knowledge-based, and therefore it never went beyond what everyone already understood. Obscure references to Scripture were left out. Words that hinted of ‘complex’ theological concepts were ‘simplified’ or ignored. Language that was considered ‘lofty’ was brought down to earth, and dialogue that was considered courtly was thrown out of court. Happily, the new translation brings it all back, and does so (in my limited experience so far) magnificently. Now here is where it all gets very interesting. Do the faithful people in the pew know and understand what is really being restored? Does Harry gasp and say, “Goodness Mildred, when I say ‘consubstantial’ I feel like my soul is opening up into the mysterious realm of beauty”? Probably not. Most of it will go over their heads, but as it goes over their heads it will also go into their hearts. We perceive the depth, the beauty and the magnificence in a more subtle way — as we do the beautiful poetry embedded in a Shakespeare play, or the beautiful architecture of an ancient church. Yes, we might comment on the nice stained glass windows, but when beauty is present there is something greater going on — something beyond words — something that we find impossible to articulate, and it is this connection with the ‘something greater’ which will be the lasting legacy of the new translation to our common imagination. What is happening with the new translation is that our imagination is being engaged, and not just as as individuals, but all of us a part of a Catholic culture. The imagination is that part of our mind that connects with beauty. Beauty is the language of worship, and it is the imagination which perceives and processes beauty in our mind. As Einstein says, “imagination embraces the entire world, and all there ever will be to know and understand.” The new translation does not simply spout more beautiful language, it opens our heart and mind to embrace all things visible and invisible... END OF EXTRACT www.crisismagazine.com/2011/einstein-imagination-and-the-new-translation
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Post by hibernicus on Dec 22, 2011 16:53:05 GMT
Fr Z has a nice point in relation to two terms in the new translation which are presented as hopelessly archaic and incomprehensible to modern man (sorry, persons). Apparently Stella Artois are advertising a new style of beer glass as a "chalice" and rappers regularly use the term "ineffable" in their ditties. wdtprs.com/blog/2011/12/its-a-chalice/
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Post by hibernicus on Jan 10, 2012 23:45:10 GMT
MArk Shea replies to a reader who argues that as Jesus addressed the poor and humble, only the simplest language is appropriate for the liturgy: www.ncregister.com/blog/mark-shea/a-reader-argues-against-the-new-mass-translation/EXTRACT I appreciate my reader’s desire to remind us that Christ has humbled himself and that we are to humble ourselves too. However, I think he makes a fundamental mistake in misreading Scripture to say that there is therefore no place for the exalted, the resplendent, the magnificent and the glorious (which is what the Mass is intended to lift our hearts and minds to contemplate). The paradox of the Christian tradition is that the humble love to contemplate the immensely glorious and beautiful. It is a sensation available to anybody who has stood out under the stars on a summer night and looked up, anybody who has stood on the rim of the Grand Canyon, or looked out over creation from Mt. Rainier. indeed, precisely the wonder that the Magi came to contemplate was not merely a baby, but a baby who was God. In fact, it takes a highly selective reading of Scripture to edit out all the exalted and (even for its original audience, archaic) language it presents to us. The apostles used Koine Greek, but they used it in a highly stylized and liturgical form right from the beginning. People don’t go around saying things like “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God” as they chat at the grocery store. It is not ordinary chat say, “In Him, all the fulness of the Godhead dwells bodily” or to suddenly burst out with, “O the riches of the wisdom of God!” or to casually quote lengthy passages from the Psalms. So the myth that the apostles just chatted in ordinary speech as they proclaimed the gospel and that “the Church” somehow encrusted their simple folk patois with “religious” language is simply not so. In fact, Hebrew is a thickly liturgical language and the Old Testament dominated the minds of the apostles and formed so much of the New Testament. All the Mass does is remind us of that fact. The Church is not “taking away your daily word”. You are free to talk to your barber and accountant in our ordinary speech. But precisely what happens in the Mass is that we are entering into the precincts of the sacred and being reminded of all those things that Scripture tells us things like “The Lord is on his holy throne, dwelling in unapproachable light”—and yet also tells we are welcome in his presence. My reader’s objection to the Mass reminds me of something that once happened to Dorothy Day. Somebody once complained to her that churches were too gorgeous and that they should all be stripped, the money given to the poor, and replaced with little bare rooms. Day very sensibly said that churches are the only places where poor people can go, free of charge, and experience immense beauty that lifts their minds and hearts to heaven. The net effect of stripping the Church’s of their glorious beauty is not to exalt the poor, but to sentence them to an unrelievedly grey world. The net effect of stripping the Mass of beautiful language is to render it extremely difficult to lift our hearts and minds to the Beautiful One. END
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Post by hibernicus on Jan 13, 2012 0:01:59 GMT
Fr Longenecker says he finds that the new translation improves as he gets used to it, and dissociates himself from a group (sounding a bit like the ACP) who have been quoting his first impressions as an argument against the translation. He gives his impression of what appears to be their real agenda. gkupsidedown.blogspot.com/2012/01/misguided-missal.htmlPOST My attention has been drawn to the fact that I am quoted at this website called Misguided Missal. It refers to a blog post I wrote after my first introduction to the new translation of the Roman Missal last January. One or two of the prayers I first looked at seemed clunky and difficult, and I said so. I should put it on the record (in case anybody is interested) that now that I am using the new translation that I very much like it, and don't find the words clunky and difficult at all. Rather, the long sentences and subordinate phrases cause me to say Mass more prayerfully and slowly. The beauty of the words draws me closer to God and I have moved from being a tiny bit critical to being a major fan. I encourage you to go to the site Misguided Missal and see what you think. Before long you will realize that their grumbles are not really about the new translation at all. Instead they go on and on and on and on about being "deeply concerned" they're "deeply concerned" about most everything in the church--authoritarianism, sexism, patriarchy, repealing Vatican 2, clericalism, non collaboration, etc etc etc. What is most tiresome about these folks is their whiny self righteousness. They've always got a pained, pious look on their face--a kind of hang dog, "suffering for Jesus" look. They give you a wounded smile and nod knowingly and say, "Well, of course we LOVE the church and of course we are FAITHFUL Catholics, so we will have to endure yet again the patriarchal structures and the harsh treatment." But underneath all that pious, wounded clap trap they're just as angry as an old hornet. They're idealogues, and ideologies are fueled by rage. The give away is in the last paragraph where they stamp their foot and tell us that "WE are Church!" Right. I thought it was you guys all along. END
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Post by hibernicus on Feb 9, 2012 23:30:32 GMT
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Post by brencel on Mar 19, 2012 13:20:43 GMT
Interesting proposal from Fr Anthony Ruff: This is where we are; the New Translation is in use. Now, how do we manage? May I suggest a possible way forward? An announcement should be made that the New Translation will be in use for the next five years. During this period, the bishops in the English-speaking world will listen to the objections of everyone involved, both clerical and lay, and accept positive suggestions for improvements, based on experience. A revised translation will be undertaken at the same time, using the three texts we now have available: the one that we had been praying over the last 40 years, that proposed by ICEL in 1998, widely acclaimed, but never introduced, and finally the most recent translation now in use. This should be possible in this time span given all the textual material that already exists. The resultant text would then be published and offered for discussion and final debate by all before it is approved by the Bishops and then by Rome. This would re-introduce the principle of waiting for informed comment before acceptance, a suggestion first aired by Fr. Michael Ryan in his article in America back in 2010. Read the article: www.praytellblog.com/index.php/2012/02/22/what-if-we-just-took-stock/
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Post by Askel McThurkill on Mar 20, 2012 15:06:51 GMT
The problem I have is with Brencel's proposal is that it doesn't state what is the template. The template must be the proto-Mass in Latin of the Missale Romanum of 1969 - nothing else will do. The 1998 translation is irrelevant. The older translation is relevant only insofar as it was in use for a long time - and this was only due to rear guard action by an entrenched bureaucracy on the defensive.
I accept wholeheartedly that there are flaws in the new translation and that this must corrected - but the measure is not any other English translation; it is the Latin original.
You don't agree? Ok - another suggestion. Measure the English translation against the French, German, Spanish, Italian, Portugese and Polish translations. These are the seven most widely spoken Catholic languages. If English is out of sync with the other six, there must be something wrong. Do you think it is a case of the soldier's mother asking how come the others are all out of step rather than her Johnny?
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Post by hibernicus on Mar 20, 2012 21:09:32 GMT
Look back on this thread and you will find that Brencel has some peculiar notions of what "translation" is.
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Post by shane on Mar 20, 2012 21:37:11 GMT
The ICEL actually produced some excellent provisional translations back in the 60s (including even thees and thous).
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Post by Alaisdir Ua Séaghdha on Mar 20, 2012 21:38:53 GMT
It obviously took a wrong turn in the 70s.
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Post by brencel on Mar 20, 2012 22:25:26 GMT
Look back on this thread and you will find that Brencel has some peculiar notions of what "translation" is. Please make sure you read my posts, not hiberncus’ interpretation of same.
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Post by Askel McThurkill on Mar 21, 2012 10:41:21 GMT
Brencel, I did just that.
I don't believe the new translation is done in glorious English, but neither was the older one. Nor is it excessively complex - I think it is patronising to say it is.
However, if it was, it simply puts it up to the clergy to elucidate its meaning.
But if one were to compare the Irish and English translations (or any of several other translations with the English), the Irish is both literal and clear. The 1973 English is not literal - and therefore its clarity is compromised. The new translation is an attempt, however poor, to address this.
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Post by hibernicus on Mar 21, 2012 18:50:10 GMT
Read Brencel's posts AND my "interpretation of same" - then decide which of us has expressed himself more clearly.
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