Christopher Derrick on Aggiornamento

Since the Second Vatican Council, much has been made of the need for aggriornamento, a modernization of the Faith. It is generally supposed that this is necessary to evangelize modern people with any success. We must "speak their language," it is thought, if we expect them to hear. Where our liturgical worship is concerned, this has been taken quite literally. In fact, the attempt to modernize the Faith is perhaps seen nowhere as clearly as in the reforms of the Sacred Liturgy carried out by the Consilium, the group which was given the charge to implement the call to reform of the Council Fathers. Their work produced the Novus Ordo Missae, a new rite of the Mass which has now become the "ordinary form," promulgated by Pope Paul VI in 1969.

Let us take the words "from the horse's mouth." Fr. Antoine Dumas, O.S.B was the relator[1] of the study group (Coetus 18bis) tasked with the reform of all the orations of the Mass. In a 1971 essay explaining the principles which motivated the revisions produced by his group, Fr. Dumas tells us that the authors of the "renewal" were very intent  "that the texts and rites might be perfectly—or at the least much better—accommodated to the modern mentality to which it must give expression."[2] "Other texts," he says, "having become shocking for the man of today, have been frankly corrected."[3]  Again, Fr. Dumas tells us that some revisions were made in order to "change the direction" of certain phrases "from a negative to a more dynamic position." For an example of such a revision, Fr. Dumas offers the prayer after communion for the fourth Sunday of Paschaltide, where "diabolica non sinas incursione lacerari [may you not allow (us) to be wounded by diabolical attack]" now reads "in aeternis pascuis collocare digneris [may you vouchsafe to place (us) in eternal pastures]". A second example is also offered from the prayer over the offerings, formerly for the eleventh Sunday after Pentecost, now for tenth Sunday per annum: "nostrae fragilitatis subsidium (a help to our frailty)" is changed to read "nostrae caritatis augmentum (an increase of our charity)."[4]

This talk of "accommodation to the modern mentality," removing that which is "shocking for the man of today," or too "negative"--which, given Fr. Dumas' examples, simply means the recognition of human frailty and the threat of demonic attacks--shows quite clearly an underlying presupposition of modern attempts at evangelization and ecumenism. It is assumed that the Faith must be rid of that which makes it hateful to modern ears, and the result will be that men will see the Faith for "what it really is," and then be more likely to submit themselves to it.

Unfortunately, what has actually happened is altogether different. Modern man, having been shown a Faith that is perfectly "accommodated" to them, has thus found it to be completely irrelevant. The irony will not be lost on thoughtful readers. While much can be written about this, at the moment I only want to point readers to a substantial passage from Christopher Derrick, writing in his book Trimming the Ark around the same time Fr. Dumas was doing his work. He expresses clearly that a Church which makes modernization and relevancy its primary goals only succeeds in proving finally that it is antiquated and irrelevant:

Let them talk as they will. Let any man boast to his heart's content about his wonderful plans and arrangements, the glorious forward movement of this age, its achievement, its new hope, its vision of the future. But already his body is crumbling and quite possibly cancerous. Put the question to him brutally. "And do you ever propose to die? And by what elaborate system of self-deceptive nonsense have you contrived to persuade yourself that this event can be tolerated or managed in any way whatever, apart from Christ?"

"That's a negative and morbid thing to say. And in any case, one should look beyond the self and identity with the whole human race, in its limitless march of progress."

"And where do you suppose the human race will be when the sun grows cold?"

Woe unto us if we preach not the Gospel. Non the less, where what we call "the twentieth century" is concerned, evangelization itself takes second place. Our primary task, our most necessary task is that of helping men--in all gentleness and charity--toward a condition in which the Gospel will again be audible and seem relevant. We must help them to ask real questions, to be aware of real needs; this initial task, this praeparatio evangelica, is essentially negative. It is a question of clearing the ground, a matter of pricking the gas balloons of illusion. Toward this "twentieth century" and its hubristic fantasy of self-sufficiency it may be our chief duty to speak in a voice of loud, sardonic derision.

And with what relief and gratitude--once the initial shock is over--will this be received! The strain of pretending is a bit too much. Modern secular man may thump his chest, and roar, and swagger; but he doesn't fool anybody, not even himself. The headlong deathwish of his civilization is becoming altogether too obvious: its motivations are collapsing, its resources are giving out, its future is plainly limited.

In this situation, we would fail in charity and in sales psychology as well if we followed the advice of this who urge us to "go along with this modern age"; we should not give anxious promises of sympathy and collaboration, when the thing sought and needed is escape. When a man is drowning, you don't display your fellow-feeling by jumping into the water along with him and drowning too. At the risk of being called imperialistic and triumphal, you take advantage of your happier position to bring him into a situation more closely resembling your own. If the hungry sheep look up and are not fed, you won't help matters much if you assure them (in the best contemporary vernacular) that feeling hungry is a vital and significant part of the twentieth-century experience. Pull the drowning man out, give the sheep something to eat: we are supposed to be fishers of men, shepherds of the flock. In the uncovenanted mercies of God, they may not be damned by any failure on our part to live up to our vocation. But we may.

A greater degree of bold confidence is necessary. Do we really believe that we possess the one workable key to the human predicament? If not, let us be honest about it and cease to call ourselves Catholic Christians. But if we do, let us in mere humanity refrain from selling it short. Men need that key--if it's really there--even though they may need to be persuaded of the fact; and they are not likely to trust the salesman who apologizes and seems unsure of himself, anxious to unload a doubtful product on any terms. Nobody trusts the man who's too anxious to please, and who therefore accommodates his speech, saying only what his listeners want to hear.

The Church is supposed to be the body of Christ, his presence in the world: we are in some danger, at this present time, of adopting a very un-Christlike posture of underconfidence and uncertainty, of willingness to learn and adapt and rethink. Whatever can be said in favour of such postures of the mind, they do not add up to any obviously heightened resemblance to the Christ of the Gospels--a most dogmatic and intransigeant figure, arousing therefore among men that same twofold response of faith and of rejection that his Church has aroused down the subsequence centuries, speaking always with authority and not as the Scribes and the Pharisees, loved and crucified too. But "if the trumpet give an uncertain sound, who shall prepare himself to the battle?" [1 Cor. 14:8]

There is some danger of the Church's trumpet appearing to give a very uncertain sound; and there are some among us who want it that way. They shall receive their reward. In so far as their wish prevails--and this will not be very far--the Church will indeed please men and fit comfortably into the world, accepted and ignored. But we cannot expect very much of this ignoble comfort. All the evidence suggests that God is much more interested in saving the world than in pleasing it, and that he manipulates the Church accordingly, to our considerable and continuing discomfort. We must not suppose that we're always going to get a good press.[5] 

Written by Peter Youngblood, DRE and Choir Director at Saint Leo IV Roman Catholic Church in Roberts Cove, La, and Co-founder & Tutor of Saint John of the Cross Academy.
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[1] Lauren Pristas, "The Orations of the Vatican II Missal: Policies for Revision", Communio 30 (Winter 2003), p. 627
[2] ibid, p. 633. The essay is reproduced in its entirety in the article from Dr. Pristas cited above.
[3] ibid, p. 635. See especially the example cited by Fr. Dumas: "For example, the former secret for Saturday of       the second week of Lent, which has become the prayer over the offerings for the third Sunday of Lent, changes the expression: non gravemur externis [may we not be weighed down (by the sins) of those outside], difficult to understand, to: fraterna dimittere  studeamus [may we strive/be eager to forgive (the sins) of our brothers], decidedly more evangelical."
[4] ibid., p. 635-6. Translations are those of Lauren Pristas.
[5] Christopher Derrick, Trimming the Ark:  Catholic Attitudes and the Cult of Change, Hutchinson & CO, 1967, pp. 142-144