New missal changes create confusion rather than clarity in the short term

To be blunt, I think that the changes to the Catholic mass in Roman Missal, Third Edition are unnecessary and counterintuitive. My mass experience on the first Sunday in Advent certainly did not provide me with the "deeper meaning" that the Church touts as reasoning for this new reform.

The Catholic Church enacted these new changes to make the mass's wording more accurate of the literal Latin meaning. It is not even the first, but the third time that this has happened. Though it may be hard to conceive for some of us, the mass only started being spoken in English in 1969.

This recent revision was no simple cut-and-paste job. Thousands of Church scholars, bishops and priests helped to create this. The extensive process to translate the Latin into English, which took nine years to accomplish, involved several committees, such as the International Committee on the Liturgy in English and the United States Conference for Catholic Bishops, and drafts organized into Green Books and Gray Books (One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish was already taken).

Yet, even after nine assiduous years of conferring, cross-checking and conjugating, none of these members of the Church seemed to realize that Latin is a dead language. Giving the mass's text a more literal translation, though it does create more accuracy with what certain ancient scribes' manuscripts may say is the true text of the Bible, does not necessarily instill a "deeper meaning" of the mass within American Catholics. In fact, I believe that the changes only make the mass feel more foreign and archaic. I had more difficulty than ever trying to relate to the words.

Additionally, the new wording, as is the case with most works that are translated literally, is incredibly awkward. A simple phrase like "through my own fault" from the Penitential Act has become "through my fault, through my fault, through my most grievous fault." Wondering when I would try out the tonsured look, I honestly could not stop myself from laughing while saying that. However, I suppose that my inclination to mock this must indicate something wrong with me—or rather, with my spirit.

The diction has become oddly formal in some places. I stumbled once or twice, especially on the word "consubstantial." It is a very bizarre experience to hear an entire congregation flub words during a monotonous muttering as they send each other surreptitious looks to make sure that everyone else looks just as foolish as they feel themselves.

St. Ignatius Loyola says of following the Church in his Spiritual Exercises: "What I see as white, I will believe to be black if the hierarchical Church thus determines it." I know that as a good Catholic I should follow St. Ignatius's example, but I cannot help but think that the mass will eventually begin to lose its meaning if it undergoes so many alterations. Without traditional indoctrination, why would we accept change? Moreover, do the changes even matter if the feeling behind the mass never leaves?

In "The Prioress's Tale" of Chaucer's Canterbury Tales, a 7-year-old boy memorizes Latin songs in praise of Mary and is eventually martyred for his faith. The boy does not know what exactly the words of the songs mean, but he does know that he loves Mary. I know that we strive towards human perfection in our spiritual lives, but will a more literal translation really lead to perfection? If it will, why don't we go back to speaking the Latin? Or the Greek? Or the Hebrew?

My biggest concern with these changes is the waste of resources. So much money was probably squandered to organize these committees, publish drafts and provide every pew with pristine pamphlets on Nov. 27. As the season of Advent continues, I would have rather seen poor families receive food, clothing and shelter than get the chance to say, "that you should enter under my roof."

Nevertheless, it seems that there is nothing that I can do to stop these changes. In a few years, I will no doubt have them memorized and will be unable to remember a time when the Nicene Creed was not in the second-person. Until that happy point of conformity, however, I think that I will console myself by looking up at the cross during mass while everyone else has their noses shoved into pamphlets.

I know that the Bible calls for us to be the lambs of God, but does that mean we must be sheep?