What Is to Be Done?

Even though they represent a relatively small portion of Catholics, with little influence in the hierarchy and almost no say in ecclesiastical decision-making, traditionalist Catholics are a regular target of canonical action and a source of frequent consternation among some members of the hierarchy. An important question is why.

This is a difficult question to answer, for a number of reasons. The first is simply that it is hard to establish a single definition of a traditionalist Catholics, or “trads,” a word I use in a neutral sense here, as a makeshift label. It’s always dangerous to offer definitions meant to apply to groups of people, but it seems accurate to say that a traditionalist or a trad is someone who is attached, with varying degrees of devotion, to the liturgical books in use before the reforms following the Second Vatican Council. This attachment to liturgical books issued in 1962 (or in some cases earlier) is not an exhaustive description; “trad” aesthetics extend to the cassock, the saturno, the papal tiara, and other symbols of ecclesiastical identity and authority that in recent decades the Church has chosen to de-emphasize.

Beyond these bald descriptions it is difficult to generalize further. Trads are probably more likely than other Catholics to support the notion of a confessional state, for example, but in this country many are strongly devoted to American conceptions of liberty, democracy, and political conservatism (however defined). Their views on economics are even more difficult to place. While there is certainly a sizable contingent of Rerum novarum trads, others are effectively libertarians. There are even Marxist trads.

More significant are traditionalist attitudes toward the hierarchy, including the pope. While some trads see themselves as firmly ultramontane, others place their conceptions of “Tradition” (often spelled with a capital T) above any individual prelate, even the reigning pontiff (and certainly members of the episcopacy). As you can imagine, the traditionalist generally believes that there is a body of Catholic “tradition” that precedes the will of any prelate and that those in authority are obliged to defer to this tradition. If a bishop, including a Bishop of Rome, contradicts tradition (as the traditionalist understands it), he is simply wrong and should be ignored, or, in more serious cases, opposed, even when doing so might rise to the level of what appears to be canonical disobedience. This view is simply what made the rejection of the liturgical reform possible—the sense that the Mass of Paul VI (hereinafter the “Novus ordo”) was inorganic, imposed from the top down without sufficient warrant from tradition.

But one hates to circle around a definition, so before proceeding I will offer a fuller one. Modern traditionalist Catholics are a group who believe that something went wrong in the twentieth century, and that this something was a result of, related to, associated with, or perhaps resulted in the Second Vatican Council, which caused some sort of rupture with the tradition of the Church, especially or even primarily related to the liturgy, such that many or even most of the problems facing the Church today could be resolved partially or entirely by addressing that rupture and returning the Church to some point before it took place. Trads have plenty of other views, of course, but at minimum they have this view, and much of what they do and believe follows from this understanding of the Church and of history. A trad believes that something has been lost, that this loss has harmed the Church, and that what was lost must be regained.

Perhaps all of this is somewhat overstated. A number of people now attached to the traditional Latin Mass (the name that I will use going forward to refer to Masses celebrated according to liturgical books issued in 1962 and earlier) are not especially familiar with Vatican II. They often happen upon the traditional Latin Mass without the influence of philosophical or ecclesiastical priors; when they talk about “reverence” they are simply describing an organic experience. Are such people “trads” in the sense that I have described? Is there even a proper sense? Some of these Catholics will later come to support the positions I have described above, but in many cases, they do not; they do not even know that these arguments exist, much less promote them. It seems fair, then, to say the traditional Latin Mass and “traditionalism” proper overlap, but not perfectly, and that there are a number of Catholics (maybe even a larger number) who might be identified as trad-adjacent at best.

Regardless of any definition one might piece together—and some readers will surely disagree with my definition—the consequence of adopting traditionalist views is almost universally the same: Trads become separate, trads join their own self-selected communities of like-minded fellow trads, trads end up in trad spaces, spaces which become, at least in some extreme cases, practically distinct from the rest of the Church. Sometimes this separation is carried out by trads themselves who feel disillusioned with the hierarchy; in some cases it is effected by the powers that be who believe that trads are harmful to other Catholics. The extent of separation depends very much on the degree to which one adopts traditionalist views, which are more of a spectrum than a binary. But it seems fair to say that, on the whole, the “traddier” one is, the more isolated one is from the institutional Church.

So, for the sake of argument, let’s say we have a definition of sorts, or at least some sort of definitional space with which we can work. Does it actually help to answer our original question about why trads are the object of so much attention? I think the answer is no, that the definition is not helpful, at least not on its own terms. Many groups have preferences—aesthetic or otherwise—or political and economic views that are unpopular. Plenty of Catholics—whole movements in the Church—appeal to supposedly immutable values that bring them in conflict with bishops and even the papacy; these Catholics use these principles to justify their disobedience, which is sometimes very public. These Catholics are also rarely considered schismatics or otherwise in need of canonical censure or restriction; they are certainly not regarded as so harmful to the Church that action from Rome is necessary. In many cases, they are given the benefit of the doubt and presumed to be acting in good faith, engaging in reasonable dialogue. So what’s going on here with trads?

For the most part, the trad qua trad has not been addressed by the Church in a way that could answer these difficult questions, at least not directly. While Paul VI, John Paul II, and Benedict XVI discussed in detail the liturgy and how the traditional Latin Mass might be reconciled with the liturgical reforms following Vatican II, it was Francis who was more focused more on the individuals associated with the traditional Latin Mass. In Traditionis custodes he wrote,

But I am nonetheless saddened that the instrumental use of Missale Romanum of 1962 is often characterized by a rejection not only of the liturgical reform, but of the Vatican Council II itself, claiming, with unfounded and unsustainable assertions, that it betrayed the Tradition and the “true Church.” The path of the Church must be seen within the dynamic of Tradition “which originates from the Apostles and progresses in the Church with the assistance of the Holy Spirit.” A recent stage of this dynamic was constituted by Vatican Council II where the Catholic episcopate came together to listen and to discern the path for the Church indicated by the Holy Spirit. To doubt the Council is to doubt the intentions of those very Fathers who exercised their collegial power in a solemn manner cum Petro et sub Petro in an ecumenical council, and, in the final analysis, to doubt the Holy Spirit Himself who guides the Church.

Pope Francis argued that those who reject the liturgical reforms often reject Vatican II itself (and by implication, the work of the Holy Spirit). To be clear, this is not how he described every person who is connected with the traditional Latin Mass. He was obviously aware that some people simply prefer it without rejecting the liturgical reforms wholesale or having any animus toward (or indeed any opinion of) the council which preceded it. Rather, he appears to have believed that some trads (perhaps trads in the sense that I have given above) and trad spaces are the sources of these opinions, hence his decision to impose restrictions upon them and the spaces they occupy.

Bound up in all of this is how Francis and others view the Second Vatican Council itself. For the popes, Vatican II was a necessary summary of what the Church has always believed, articulated cleanly and clearly adapted to the current age. The reforms that followed were practical applications of a desire for clarity about what the Church has always believed. But more importantly, they believe that these reforms were a legitimate action of the Church, and that to deny that legitimate action is to deny the work of the Holy Spirit.

For the hierarchy, the trad is difficult to ignore and more difficult to address, as the pontiffs all agree with the most fundamental claim of the trad: that the hierarchy is obliged to defer to the tradition of the Church. Where the disagreement arises is whether that actually occurred during and following the Second Vatican Council. So when a trad brings up an element of the tradition (liturgical, ecclesial, or otherwise) as a challenge to current practices or teachings, the hierarch must have an answer for the trad and, more importantly, for himself, if he is to be sure of his own view of the Church. This is the cause of a great deal of aggravation, insecurity, and even humiliation, a natural response to the implication that the institutional Church has now lost (or at best is confused about) Her own tradition. This frustration can even sometimes cause a hierarch to attack practices that simply seem like they’re associated with trads, even if they fall squarely within what was envisioned by the Second Vatican Council.

More than frustration and embarrassment, though, the trad position can come to be seen by hierarchs as a threat to the legitimacy of the Church, as Francis argued. This is surely why some bishops tend to treat trads differently than they might other groups or movements that, whatever else might be said for them and the problems associated with them, usually don’t pose this kind of fundamental challenge to the Church itself. On the trad side, the more aggressive types (certainly not all) will often lean into this uneasiness, sometimes in entirely erroneous, illegitimate, or frankly uncharitable ways. This often only makes the problem worse, with each side digging in and even overemphasizing certain aspects of its respective position.

To understand these positions better, an analogy might be helpful. Think of how nations evolve throughout their histories. In some cases, they are conquered by foreign parties, and then they become new nations. In other cases, nations undergo revolutions from within, and while they’re technically the same nation, in some sense a new one is born (certainly the revolutionaries think so). But most of the time, nations just change. Sometimes slowly, sometimes more rapidly, usually through normal and legitimate political processes, changes occur. Even when the changes are drastic, most will agree that the nation that has undergone them is and should be identified with the nation that existed previously.

Whether by conquest, revolution, or comparatively normal political means, changing nations adopt new symbols—flags, anthems, customs, habits, even in some cases languages—which represent the changes that have occurred. In the case of conquest or revolution, flying the old flag might be seen as treason or even a declaration of war. You wouldn’t fly the old flag unless you wanted to make a very strong statement about the conquerors or revolutionaries. In cases where change has occurred through less dramatic means, flying the old flag or appealing to the old symbols and anthems might be interpreted in a similar way, but this is less likely if very little time has passed since the new ones were adopted. As the years go by, however, attachment to the old colors—and lack of enthusiasm for the new—starts to look like its own sort of revolution, a call to go back, a denial of whatever the new flag is supposed to represent.

Canada is a good example. The current Maple Leaf flag design was adopted only fifty years ago, based in part on the old de facto Red Ensign flag. After its adoption—via a normal political process—some people still flew the old flag, and this wasn’t unusual; it might have mere nostalgia, what some people were comfortable with. Over time, though, the Red Ensign came to mean something: a connection to British rule, to be sure, but maybe something else too, a potential denial of whatever the new flag represented or even in some cases a symbol of defiance. Canadians can debate what the current flag represents, but it’s clear that it represents Canada as it is now (or at least how it views itself now), and not as it was before. The old flag might be tolerated, but if some people prefer it or insist on it or even refuse to fly the new flag, it is reasonable to assume that others will wonder why.

You can see where this analogy is going. (And it is of course only an analogy, so don’t read too much into it.) Following the Second Vatican Council, the Novus ordo became a kind of new flag or anthem for the Church, the means by which the Latin Church identifies itself, its definitive lex orandi. The Church believes that the changes that occurred at and following the Second Vatican Council were done through legitimate means: an ecumenical council called by a reigning pontiff with initiatives formally approved by the same. The Church does not believe it was conquered by a foreign power or a revolution; legitimate authority was not usurped. Thus, while there is some tolerance for flying the older colors (celebrating the traditional Latin Mass), adamant refusal to accept the new begins to look suspicious and even sometimes antagonistic. The degree of actual suspicion and antagonism correlates to how one views the underlying change itself. The more radical one thinks the changes were, the more aggressive the perceived defiance looks. But for those who see Vatican II as a more modest development, cases of old flag promotion become more difficult to parse. Even groups and movements that are more unusual or even flatly heterodox are easier to understand and manage because they march under the proper banner. Those flying under the old design will arouse suspicion, merited or otherwise. Meanwhile, some trads will claim that the new flag (and what it represents) doesn’t truly resemble the old one in ways that they can recognize, despite those in charge insisting that the new designs are most assuredly and definitively rooted in the old—maybe, they say, we have got a new nation here, and those in charge simply refuse to be honest about it. Here they will cite the most egregious abuses after the council, apparently irreconcilable with the Church that came before and often unaddressed by Her leadership, as definitive proof that there is something fundamentally new, while feeling that no one in charge will listen. This causes an inevitable, and sometimes very unpleasant, stalemate.

The last three popes tried to tackle this issue in different, though similar, ways. Without question, they all held three very clear beliefs when approaching the issue: 1) the Second Vatican Council is legitimate and so instructive to all the faithful; 2) the liturgical reforms and the Novus ordo are necessarily tied up with and indeed an outgrowth of the council; 3) there must be “unity” in the Church, including with those who balk at or flatly reject these reforms. Pope John Paul II saw a kind of unity in diversity. Ecclesia Dei provided a special place for those who were concerned with tradition but who remained faithful to the pontiff and his authority. The traditional expression in the liturgy could stay separate while the Church still acknowledged a normative form. The old flag could be flown in specialized locations, so long as it was clear that it was not seen as the banner of the Latin Church today. Pope Benedict XVI went in a different direction. In Summorum pontificum, he found unity in the idea of two forms of one rite coming together in the priest and community, the one informing the other. If the Novus ordo could be peaceably reformed by the traditional Latin Mass, which was a positive good, there was obviously nothing to be uneasy about. Perhaps the flags could be flown together, even next to each other, reminding everyone of the continuity of the Church. Maybe we’d end up with a new flag that made everyone happy again.

Francis viewed it differently. He clearly felt that a significant portion of people attached to the old Mass were instrumentalizing it as a source of division, a means of signaling one’s rejection of Vatican II. Therefore, in Traditionis custodes, these concerning views would be removed from parish churches, so that these groups might, over time, come peacefully to the new form of the rite, which would create unity. The old flag would be put into retirement over time, maybe hung in museum displays as an unquestionable part of our history, but going forward we all needed to march under the new flag, as one people.

It remains to be seen how Pope Leo XIV will approach this frankly difficult issue. What seems most helpful is to turn to the options the pope has in front of him, mindful of current canonical structures. In analyzing these options, “unity” will be, as all the pontiffs have indicated regarding the issue, the primary goal. Leo made unity a dominant theme in his first address to the faithful: “Brothers and sisters, I would like that our first great desire be for a united Church, a sign of unity and communion, which becomes a leaven for a reconciled world.”

What does it mean to unify the Church in this case? Here I can think of at least three useful senses in which unity might be defined, which I will label 1) unity among the faithful, 2) unity in the rite, and 3) unity with tradition.

Unity among the faithful refers to the laity’s harmony not only with their priests and bishops and with the pope but also with each other. There should be no conflict or animus among the people concerning liturgy, as there obviously has been. Liturgy should be peaceful worship of God alone, not a source of strain or division.

Unity in the rite means that there is no division among the uses or forms of the Mass in the Latin Church. This could be understood in different ways. Unity of this sort would be preserved if only one form of the Roman Rite existed, for example. But such unity would also exist if the uses or forms of the rite did not cause conflict among each other or toward the other.

Unity with tradition, finally, is always a necessary consideration. The Church believes that the liturgy as it is now celebrated is rooted in every Mass that came before it. She believes that the Mass today is what it has always been, expressing itself in a particular time for a particular people. Anything that suggests that the tradition has been disregarded or jettisoned is likely to indicate disunity.

One might argue that each pontiff uniquely emphasized unity in these three aspects. John Paul II, attempting to bring splintering groups together, tried to create unity among the faithful by providing special concessions to these groups to celebrate the old form. Benedict attempted to unify the rite with the tradition by calling for the traditional form to inform the new. And Francis sought to create unity in the rite by bringing the Church toward a single expression of the rite, as he believed the council envisioned.

So what course might Leo take? The possibilities are not, in fact, endless. Nor is it clear that any of them would bring about “unity” in each of the three senses I have described above. To see why I believe this, let’s consider a number of possible (if not uniformly plausible) scenarios.

Suppose that Leo decided to

1. Suppress the traditional Latin Mass entirely. Forbid its celebration within the Church without permission directly from the Holy See. Ban its celebration even among the former Ecclesia Dei groups (the Priestly Fraternity of Saint Peter, the Institute of Christ the King, etc.). Suppress these groups. Establish canonical penalties for non-approved celebrations.

This would unquestionably create unity in the rite. There would be only one licit form of the rite—immediately—and all other forms would be suppressed. But it would not foster greater unity among the faithful; many Catholics who are attached to the traditional Latin Mass, both lay and clerical, would likely be pushed from the Church, which they would feel had acted illegitimately to silence tradition. Some, including priests, might rebel and face canonical penalties. Even among those who have no connection to the traditional Latin Mass, this option would likely be seen as especially and unnecessarily harsh toward a small group of faithful, Mass-attending Catholics. This option would do little to address the suspicion and animosity described above, as those flying the old flag would come to be seen as enemies within the Church, with bishops being called to police and regulate them. Finally, there is no sense in which unity with tradition could be said to result from this option, as it might imply that the traditional Latin Mass is something harmful or to be avoided, contrary to Benedict XVI’s claim that “what earlier generations held as sacred, remains sacred and great for us too, and it cannot be all of a sudden entirely forbidden or even considered harmful.”

2. Suppress the traditional Latin Mass entirely except among the former Ecclesia Dei groups. Prevent additional ordinations into these groups, and provide no option for other priests to celebrate it.

Similar to the first option, though less immediately, a unity of rite would be attained. The traditional Latin Mass would remain mostly separate, but so long as personal parishes and churches run by former Ecclesia Dei groups existed, there would still be a clear diversity of rite within certain areas. If these groups were unable to grow, the Church would eventually unify under a single, licit rite. Because the traditional Latin Mass would still be permitted for a time, there would be unity among the people and more unity with tradition than under the circumstances described in option one. The lay faithful and priests attached to the traditional Latin Mass would have some practical connection to it, and it would be recognized as legitimate. But this would only be temporary and would eventually lead to the same concerns noted in option one. Also, because the traditional Latin Mass would be relegated to specific limited spaces, it would likely create a great deal of resentment among those attached to it, who would feel excluded from the institutional Church. Disobedience and animosity between the faithful and bishops would likely worsen, with little reason for concessions on either side. This would be, at most, a slower and slightly less painful way of suppressing the traditional Latin Mass and might imply to some that the Church had detached from Her tradition.

3. Only permit regular celebration of the traditional Latin Mass for Ecclesia Dei groups; provide only limited options for other priests to celebrate it (perhaps only privately), but permit Ecclesia Dei groups to continue to ordain more priests and grow. Forbid celebration in parish churches.

If this option sounds like Traditionis custodes, that’s because it is. It would mean Leo keeps the status quo. More so than option two, such a continuation would not be conducive to unity of rite in the narrow sense because it would allow other forms to remain available. So long as former Ecclesia Dei groups grew, the traditional Latin Mass would grow as well, albeit more slowly than if it were permitted in parish churches. This would protect its existence indefinitely, though in a limited way.

Traditionis custodes has not been received well among those attached to the traditional Latin Mass; it has not been particularly popular even among those unattached to it. In fact, it has created a great deal of discomfort among many of the faithful, who have felt that certain groups were being unnecessarily ostracized. Disagreement over the document continues today. Bishops have struggled to enforce the requirements of Traditionis custodes in their dioceses, with many conflicts arising in their attempts to remove traditional Latin Mass communities from parish churches. One could argue that pushing the traditional Latin Mass out of local parish churches may have had the effect of intensifying harmful attitudes, especially now that many pastors have no direct oversight over these communities. Moreover, it has done little to address the toxicity related to the issue that is found on the Internet, which remains unrestrained. Otherwise, because the former Ecclesia Dei groups could continue to grow, there is a certain unity with tradition in this arrangement, to a limited and excluded degree. Francis clearly intended all Latin Catholics to return ultimately to a “unitary form of celebration,” as he noted in Traditionis custodes; it’s unlikely that this unity of tradition is intended to inform the Church in the long term under this option.

4. Permit all priests to celebrate the traditional Latin Mass privately or when requested by the faithful to celebrate. Permit priests to celebrate it publicly, including in parish churches, with permission from the diocesan bishop. Permit the establishment of personal parishes to celebrate the traditional Latin Mass exclusively.

This would of course simply mean a return to Summorum pontificum. One could debate whether that document increased unity in rite. Benedict seemed to envision a future in which two “forms” of the rite—which he called “ordinary” and “extraordinary”—could live side by side, informing one another, with priests learning and celebrating both. Certainly a kind of unity would follow, as both “forms” are presented as equally legitimate forms of the one rite. But there is also potential for conflict—where the two forms compete for one space, for example—and other fundamental questions about the liturgy remain unanswered. The notion of a “reform of the reform,” a concept which aims at unity in the rite, has often been associated with Summorum pontificum. In this view, the traditional Latin Mass could work to reform the reformed rite, the Novus ordo, such that it might become more tied to tradition and the accompanying reverence intended by the council. It is interesting to ask its proponents when they would consider the “reform of the reform” successful. At what point would one say that the Novus ordo was sufficiently “reformed,” and why? What elements should it have? Surely some who support the notion of the “reform of the reform” would be uncomfortable with an end point where the traditional Latin Mass would be suppressed after the proper reformation of the Novus ordo. What does this mean, if anything?

There was a certain unity among the people under Summorum pontificum; local parishes could have both groups, ideally worshipping side by side. It also helped to bring those interested in the traditional Latin Mass into the local parishes instead of attaching themselves to groups outside of the Church’s proper governance. At the same time, it required bishops who knew nothing of the traditional Latin Mass, or who actively opposed it, to regulate it. In some cases, the lay faithful would make demands on bishops and pastors for the traditional Latin Mass and the other sacraments even though these clerics had no interest in it, creating tension. Finally, Summorum pontificum permitted the establishment of Latin Mass personal parishes, which have been very successful in many regards, but also in some cases became effectively separated from the diocesan structure.

It could be argued that the primary purpose of Summorum pontificum was to create a kind of unity with tradition. It called for the Novus ordo to come under the influence of the traditional Latin Mass and all of tradition, as the council envisioned. While many might argue about whether this goal was achieved, it is a very noble view of continuity in tradition, the old always guiding the new, and some traditionalists were receptive to it. There was no doubt a bridge here.

5. Establish a Latin Mass ordinariate (an “Extraordinariate”), which has exclusive jurisdiction over the traditional Latin Mass with its own bishops. Like the Personal Ordinariate of the Chair of Saint Peter (the “Anglican Ordinariate”), the Extraordinariate retains its own liturgical charism but is governed and exists parallel to Novus ordo dioceses. This option could be pursued in conjunction with either the norms of Traditionis custodes or the norms of Summorum pontificum in respect to ordinary diocesan celebration of the old Mass.

This option requires a brief explanation. Many have heard of the Anglican Ordinariate (actually called the Personal Ordinariate of the Chair of Saint Peter), even if they don’t know exactly what it is. A “personal ordinariate” is effectively a diocese for a particular group of people (as opposed to only a certain territory), with its own bishop and hierarchical structure. The Anglican Ordinariate is for former Anglicans who want to join the Catholic Church while retaining their Anglican traditions and practices. It has its own sovereign bishop who is not under the jurisdiction of other bishops and who answers directly to the pope.

In this case, an ordinariate would be established for the faithful (both lay and cleric) who are attached to the traditional Latin Mass. I am calling it the “Extraordinariate” in reference to what until 2021 was officially the “extraordinary form” of the Mass. The Extraordinariate would exclusively celebrate Mass and other sacraments according to the norms that existed prior to the changes following the Second Vatican Council. Bishops with proper ecclesiology and understanding of the Second Vatican Council would be appointed by the pope.

Regarding unity of rite, one might argue that both the sharp separation and the existence of two forms of the rite implies a complete disunity, but it could be seen another way. Very few people would consider the Anglican Use of the Mass to be a threat to the Novus ordo. Because it would remain a separate, unique, and dominant use, the Novus ordo would continue to enjoy a kind of primacy of place, the normative rite of the Latin Church, no longer in competition with its older brother. The old flag could fly proudly, but in its own jurisdictional space, not competing with anything else.

With respect to unity among the faithful, the most significant issue with the models that have been attempted (Summorum pontificum and Traditionis custodes) is episcopal oversight of communities attached to the traditional Latin Mass. Most bishops today have little connection to the old Mass or with the communities attached to it. Sometimes bishops ignore these communities, even when there are problems; others even actively try to limit them. The Extraordinariate would free bishops from oversight of these groups. If the bishops and clerics in charge of the Extraordinariate understood and had exclusive care of those attached to the traditional Latin Mass, attention could be given to any concerning strains of thought; fraternity and community among all the faithful, who are their equals and peers, would be encouraged. Moreover, religious communities and groups, including those in the Society of Saint Pius X, could be invited to and placed under the governance of the Extraordinariate.

There might be problems if the Extraordinariate grew in such a way as to begin to conflict with the territorial dioceses, since they would share the same physical space. That is, the Anglican Ordinariate of the United States and Canada has parishes and communities throughout all of North America, and its territorial jurisdiction overlaps with other non-ordinariate dioceses. Because the Anglican Ordinariate has a naturally limited size (there are only so many former Anglicans), it rarely, if ever, causes conflict with the other dioceses. But if the Extraordinariate grew to be larger than some territorial dioceses in particular cities or locations, it could create concerns. And of course, there’s the difficult problem of membership. Who is able to join, and how? To join the Ordinariate one need only show evidence of baptism in an Anglican (or Methodist) church; what would be the equivalent for trads?

This arrangement would allow for a unity with tradition because the traditional Latin Mass would be maintained and respected, protected and properly regulated, indefinitely. One concern that some might raise is that the traditional Latin Mass would be stuck in time under this model. It would no longer sufficiently inform the Novus ordo or help it develop organically, which in a sense would cause it to become detached from its roots. But the most significant issue would the central one: the establishment of a parallel “traditional” diocese alongside the other dioceses, with the implication that the tradition is attached to one and not the other.

6. Encourage or even require that the traditional Latin Mass be celebrated together with the Novus ordo at all parish churches. Encourage or even require the use of and integrate Latin into the Novus ordo. Continue to allow the growth of groups with associations to the traditional Latin Mass to continue and permit the establishment of new communities, including the creation of the Extraordinariate.

This option would create a clear space for the traditional Latin Mass to be respected, protected, and treated as equal to (or even superior to) the Novus ordo. It would inevitably lead to a disunity in the rite, however, as it would become less clear what the normative form of the rite is. The lex orandi would be somewhat up for grabs.

While those attached to the traditional Latin Mass would finally feel free from restrictions and may begin to feel that the Church has begun to heal Her old wounds from the rupture, others—especially those in parts of the world where the traditional Latin Mass has less connection to the people—may struggle. Perhaps this option might be implemented only in places where the traditional Latin Mass has a history of established communities, but in that case unity in the rite would be further diminished.

As in the case of Summorum pontificum, a certain unity would arise from having the two traditions stand side by side in the parish church, creating a new kind of tradition. This approach might succeed for the same reasons—that is, by unifying the tradition—though one might wonder whether the traditions associated with the traditional Latin Mass would come to dominate or erase any tradition of the Novus ordo.

7. Suppress the Novus ordo entirely and return to exclusive use of the traditional Latin Mass. Forbid the celebration of the Novus ordo without permission directly from the Holy See. Establish canonical penalty for non-approved celebration.

This option would establish the traditional Latin Mass as the lex orandi of the Church, a restart, a restoration of the old flag. Like the other version of suppression outlined in option one, it would certainly foster a sense of unity in the rite, in that there would only be one licit form. (This is very unlikely, I know, but worth considering in the spirit of being logically exhaustive.)

Because entire generations have now been raised under the Novus ordo, this option would no doubt lead to a great deal of disunity among the people. Those attached to the Novus ordo (the vast majority of the Church today) would likely feel disoriented by the direction of the Church. Many would rebel, especially in parts of the world where the Church grew after the Novus ordo became normative, though this might be overcome with the passage of time, as it was with the Novus ordo. Though this option would be a draw for some, creating new grounds for unity with groups such as the Society of Saint Pius X, it would not resolve all disagreements about the Second Vatican Council, many of which are unrelated to the liturgy. It is unclear that this option would obviously resolve these issues.

Still, a clear sense of unity with tradition would be realized almost by definition, though obviously at the expense of the Novus ordo, which, the Church holds, remains part of the legitimate tradition.

8. Suppress both the traditional Latin Mass and the Novus ordo and establish an entirely new rite that integrates elements of both forms.

Some people have floated the idea of a new form of the Roman Rite altogether, to go back to the drawing board and come up with something that makes everyone happy (or equally unhappy, as the case may be): a brand-new flag for a brand-new era. One would have to ask a liturgist what this might look like, but some traditionalists might be open to something like a traditional Latin Mass optionally in the vernacular, perhaps with other modifications sufficient to emphasize the values of the Novus ordo.

The suppression of the traditional Latin Mass and the Novus ordo would certainly mean unity of rite, though clearly those attached to the traditional Latin Mass and the Novus ordo alike would probably continue celebrating what they know, in many cases competing with this hypothetical new Mass. In such a case, one would have three principal forms of the rite, and three is unquestionably more difficult to manage than two.

If it were successfully implemented, a new form of the rite would unify the people around it. But it’s more likely that people would again object to changes and pick their own preferred form. No person would be attached to this new form when it became mandatory, and the Church would need to suppress other expressions, increasing conflict between the faithful and bishops. This is to say nothing of the development of the rite itself. Who would create it? How? Who gets a say? It is possible to imagine a new Roman Rite that owes something to the liturgical heritage of both the traditional Latin Mass and the Novus ordo, a new form of the Mass that would create perfect unity in every aspect. But is it likely? If such a liturgy failed to incorporate these traditions, it would merely exacerbate existing problems. It would cause greater disunity, straining the Church even more, especially if one group seemed more favored than the other. While the rite would no doubt continue to change over time, the present—with two forms already competing—may not be the best time to explore the idea.

There are other options not expressed here. For example, the pope could keep Traditionis custodes in place but simply remove the restriction on celebration of the old rite in parish churches or leave the decision to diocesan bishops. This might be a temporary, imperfect, though potentially less contentious solution. I say “potentially” because it could of course prove even more contentious: Diocesan bishops would once again have to explain why they are permitting or not permitting the traditional Latin Mass in their parish churches. For my part, I have a particular affinity for option five, the Extraordinariate, though I certainly recognize the practical weaknesses in building something entirely new like this. It might also put laity and priests who are attached to their dioceses but who have a soft preference for the traditional Latin Mass in a tough position. Do they leave the diocese or community they know for this new thing?

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Whatever decision the Holy Father makes—including the very real possibility of maintaining the status quo if he so chooses—someone is going to be unhappy, perhaps very unhappy. There appears to be no practically perfect solution. But the issue is not going to disappear.

Whatever is done, it must be done in a spirit of accompaniment. If there are further restrictions, someone must walk with those who are forced to accept them; otherwise, rebellion and confusion are inevitable, as indeed they might be even in the presence of good-faith accompaniment. If there is liberalization, those who are expected to govern in this environment must also be supported. These are necessary conditions for unity—in any sense of the word—in the Church. However ugly the so-called liturgy wars have been at times, it must be remembered that trads become attached to the old Mass out of love for God. They often feel abandoned by the institutional Church, which they fear does not sufficiently guide their families in an increasingly secular and irreverent world. These instincts to protect, to find a space where they can love and revere Our Lord, should be understood and respected. The Church is called to love these people, to lead them to Christ’s loving embrace. If they believe that the only viable path to the Lord is through the traditional Latin Mass, this belief should be understood and accommodated, insofar as possible, balanced with all of the other concerns of the Church.

A final question worth posing explictly—it has been lurking in the background of everything that I have been saying—is the actual nature of the connection between the current missal and the Second Vatican Council. What does the Second Vatican Council actually represent, liturgically and otherwise? How is this different from what people think it represents or think it called for? When a liturgical rite is so rooted in the identity of a particular council, any criticism is going to give rise to feelings of discomfort and insecurity, for supporters and detractors alike. Until the nature of this connection is more clearly addressed by the popes, it seems unlikely that the problem will be resolved.

Connected to this, of course, is the pressing need for the hierarchy to remedy abuses and behaviors that fail to align with what was definitively taught by the Second Vatican Council (and so part of the tradition that underlies it). In the end, the only way to reach the traditionalist is to show him that a conquest or a revolution did not in fact take place, that the tradition remains unbroken. Until that point, canonical structures, the law, and appeals to authority, even the highest authorities on earth, can really only do so much.

Answers to these questions are especially needed today, as more young people (including many young priests) find themselves drawn to the traditional Latin Mass. Many have no underlying opinions about the Novus ordo, which they do not necessarily see as representative of the Second Vatican Council (and which itself is increasingly becoming a part of the distant past), and, most importantly, don’t view the Mass of Paul VI as the exclusive banner of the Latin Church. Many Catholics just look at the old flag, and listen to the old anthem, and ask, “What’s so bad about that?”