What the worshiper thought, saw and heard 20-some years ago at mass in the church of his choice, Roman Catholic as it happens . . .

A few decades ago, some memories came crashing through for the worshiper of advanced years . . .

TO INTERRUPT HIM . . . Ssuch as recalling his days as a mass server in the early ‘40s. Various catastrophes. Leakages and excretions. Losing his suppper of the night before at an early weekday mass or sneezing messily without access to handkerchief at solemn high mass on a Sunday.

The catastrophic sneezing spotted by one of the three priests sitting across the sanctuary from servers while choir poured forth its premeditated strains from the loft and later incense burned and bells rang and all heaven broke loose.

In his case more than that broke loose, as nasal passages poured forth unpremeditated material. A hand went up and came back requiring immediate attention. There was the cassock sleeve, hardly an option. There was more on hand or in it than the average cassock sleeve would accommodate.

A blessed inability to recall descends. All that remained was the priest across the sanctuary, who knew and felt the server’s pain but could not hold back the beginning of a small grin.

FEELING GOOD WITH JESUS . . . The pastor discussed “what Mass is all about” in the parish bulletin, namely our coming “with full hearts to thank God.” Moreover, it is “truly alive . . . when we bring to Mass the everyday things of our lives.”

Some of his best mass-time experience, he confessed, had been when he was “truly bringing what was in [his] heart to God.” The time-honored phrase “sacrifice of the mass,” he said “refers to our self-offering to God.” Oh!

This self-offering “feels good,” he said, because it reminds him that “God is taking care of” his various problems.

But there is nothing in what he said about Jesus’ sacrifice on the cross and its redeeming value or its being re-enacted in the mass, whatever we bringHe speaks only about what we bring. Apart from his belief in God as protector, it’s as if there were no Christian tradition.

If you are wondering what there is about liturgy that reminds you of Rotary Club meetings, picnics, and other gatherings that make you feel good, consider this foray into theology by one of our coming pastors, who was doing a good job and was probably as theologically literate as most.

MUSCULAR CHRISTIANITY . . . At Father’s Day mass on a Sunday decades ago, a young man ahead of the worshiper in line for Communion shuffled up in expensive white sneakers, baggy white pants, and abbreviated tank top.

Earlier, there had been quite a handshaking of peace, with free-lancers going up and down the aisle to press flesh of any reluctant worshipers. Among aisle-walkers was the parish deacon, vigorously working the crowd as if running for office, which he should, since he’s such a nice guy.

The sermon had been by a tall, dark-haired, white-suited layman who talked about what Mary would have told Jesus after he was found in the Temple at age 12 instructing some white-hairs: Don’t get a big head, etc.

He got a hand when he finished, which is of course more than the pastor and his helpers get, but then he had done it more crisply, reading from his text, which is of course a good idea for the reverend fathers too. A good discipline.

ON ANOTHER SUNDAY OFF TO ILLEGAL LATIN MASS . . . Where reverence was palpable, vs. happy-go-lucky mainstream Catholic service, too often starring priest as Jay Leno, full of smiles because we’re happy to be alive.

This one was all business. People came to pray not play, not to meet and greet except after mass, when there was lots of that.

It was low mass, in an ex-Presbyterian church converted by hammer and nail, two-thirds full, families and others, a young man as server, priest with back to worshipers, everybody looking towards God.

LABORING AWAY . . . The Labor Day weekend sermon was from a representative of an affiliated church, the Chicago Federation of Labor.

It was about corporate greed, justice in the work place, Andrew Carnegie’s hiring half his employees to shoot the other half, enormous wealth for the few, heightened productivity lining pockets of corporation and executives, families needing three jobs to stay afloat, no time for the children, restructuring, downsizing, outsourcing (“Look what’s going on!”), disillusionment experienced by today’s workers, all done in 10 minutes, followed by applause from the early-mass half-filled church and group recitation of the Nicene Creed, “I believe in God the father of unions . . .” (Just kidding.)

Not kidding otherwise. The speaker was secretary-treasurer of the CFL, where he had worked for eight years. Invoking our protect-the-guilty policy, let’s call him Abe.

Abe cited “Jesuit tradition” and several popes for Catholic support of unions. Growing up as he did, he “could not imagine” either family, church, or union “without the other two.” Unions need the church, he said. “Unions and churches can’t go it alone,” he said –remarkably, in view of the long history of the Christian Church pre-dating unions.

“We need help in bargaining,” he said, but to his credit gave out neither telephone number nor email address. “We must work together to combat corporate greed.”

He was labor coordinator for the 1996 Democratic National Convention and coordinator for organized labor for the Illinois Democratic gubernatorial candidate in 1994 and 1998, the CFL web site tells us.

He thanked the pastor and pastor emeritus, who said the mass the worshiper attended, for welcoming him — to give us his labor-union speech.

He followed the celebrant, who in his brief sermon explained (away) Jesus’ “If anyone comes to me without hating his father and mother . . . he cannot be my disciple” from the day’s gospel (Luke 14. 25-33) as a “Jewish” manner of speaking, meaning standard ancient Middle Eastern exaggeration to make a point.

Abe went to Loyola U. and finds in politics “a passion and personal calling,” the CFL site tells us. He’s well versed in organized-labor talking points, is or has been a Democratic party operative, and was happy, the worshiper assumed, to have this congregation for an audience, probably at all three weekend masses.

Which ends our brief tour of one worshiper’s experience and hope you liked it and will be here for the next one. Soon.

Halfway through the last year of the 20th century the worshiper mused about what happened to the mass in the previous 30 years and put it in writing . . .

. . . here presented once again in these millenial reflections

Is the two-mass Sunday schedule [down from three] related to diminishing numbers among priests? Is the change a one-timer, or are we headed for one-mass Sundays in our cathedral-class Gothic church with the big oak doors?

A certain kind of person is reminded of magazines and newspapers faced with declining circulation, whose editors remake the publication only to find the changes alienate regulars and attract too few new readers. Tricky business.

One is also reminded of earlier efforts at bringing the body religious into new realms. In the tragicomic vein, there’s the recent roping off of back pews (by a previous pastor) in this same church, with a view to getting us Catholics to sit up front and close to each other, not at comfortable distances, but close enough to exchange handclasp of peace at the appointed time.

There were the lines of yellow police tape one Sunday, silently telling us to move up front, as if plaster was going to fall soon on the prohibited pews. Yes, dear reader, in due time someone tore the tape and moved into the forbidden territory. This is rebellion, dear reader, the sort to be cherished years after the fact at class reunions, as above.

More seriously (and successfully) was the all-church changeover from Latin to English after Vatican Council II. Was this centralized planning or not? Enough to make a statist weep with envy. The world over, Catholics got used to mass in everyday language. It became part of the worldwide social engineering taking place – change by design, not by natural influences.

Vatican II celebrated the freedom of the children of God, but not in liturgy. Latin had to go. Latin went. Rebels were marginalized. Only recently has Latin returned with church authority’s blessings.

So it goes, change dictated from above for our own good by people who know what’s best. My friend M., in his last year before ordination as a holy Jesuit, complained. He had enough trouble believing in the mass in Latin, he said. Now the mystery would be severely lessened. He was not happy.

This from a Catholic-school-educated fellow, including Jesuit high school and college in the 1950s, a straight-arrow fellow from an Irish Catholic Chicago neighborhood, who swallowed hard and went on to be ordained — later to fall by priestly wayside, get married: the full catastrophe, as Zorba said.

M.’s problems sound strange to today’s 27-year-old who learned her Catholicism in our parish – the part about the mass being hard to believe in. But friend M. had much more to believe about the mass than she does today, when it’s essentially a church-sponsored, Scripture-referenced celebration of unity with each other.

He had to believe in transubstantiation – who now says the word? The bread and wine became the body and blood of Jesus in substance, while accidents (of breadness, etc.) remained, etc.

The priest held the host (bread) and believed he held the body of Christ. At least one could hardly do it and would stutter at the “words of consecration,” barely able to say them. A whole new mass developed after Vatican II — was developed quite consciously, as young Jesuits debated in the mid-50s, looking ahead — this liturgy of the future, vernacularized, would be as much communicating with people as with God. The priest would face the people, look at them, saying the dread words, making them more pew-sitter-friendly.

My friend M. saw the mystery dissolving away, and with it his belief. This has happened. Mass is now something else — arguably a very good thing, in which we celebrate unity with each other. As for the mystical and mysterious, that’s a happy memory, fast fading from Catholic consciousness.

In his 1977 autobiography, Cardinal Ratzinger, future Pope Benedict XVI, bemoaned the mass of Paul VI, blaming it for the “ecclesial crisis” of post-Vatican 2 years

. . . reviewed at the time by the late Paul Likoudis:

The unprecedented manner in which Pope Paul VI imposed the Novus Ordo of the Mass created tragic consequences for the Roman Catholic Church, says Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger, prefect of the Sacred Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, in his new autobiography.

Speaking boldly, like a private citizen, before holding elective office.

Not only did the banning of the old Mass represent a severe departure from tradition, but the revolutionary manner in which the new Mass was imposed has created the impression that liturgy is something each community creates on its own, not something which “is given.”

Not Paul’s finest hour.

Rather than being a force for unity in the Church, the new Mass has been the source of liturgical anarchy, dividing Catholics “into opposing party positions” and creating a situation in which the Church is “lacerating herself.”

Tough language.

Formally imposed after a six-month period of “liturgical experimentation” in which anything -and everything-did go, the Roman Catholic Mass has never attained a universality, stability-or even an element of predictability — for most Catholics around the world; but instead has been a stimulus for never-ending innovations-from altar girls to dancing girls to women priests.

See or have seen the first and second, not the third.

While the Missal of Paul VI “brought with it some authentic improvements and a real enrichment,” the banning of the old Mass caused some “extremely serious damages for us,” he wrote in La Mia Vita, released in mid-April in its Italian translation.

Here’s the nub, the banning.

“I was dismayed by the banning of the old Missal,” he wrote, “seeing that a similar thing had never happened in the entire history of the liturgy….

A blot on the historical landscape?

“The promulgation of the banning of the Missal that had been developed in the course of centuries. starting from the time of the sacramentaries of the ancient Church, has brought with it a break in the history of the liturgy whose consequences could be tragic…. The old structure was broken to pieces and another was constructed admittedly with material of which the old structure had been made and using also the preceding models….

But . . .

“. . . the fact that [the liturgy] was presented as a new structure, set up against what had been formed in the course of history and was now prohibited, and that the liturgy was made to appear in some ways no longer as a living process but as a product of specialized knowledge and juridical competence, has brought with it some extremely serious damages for us.

A manufactured product.

“In this way, in fact, the impression has arisen that the liturgy is ‘made,’ that it is not something that exists before us, something ‘given,’ but that it depends on our decisions.

It follows as a consequence that this decision-making capacity is recognized not only in specialists or in a central authority, but that, in the final analysis, each ‘community’ wants to give itself its own liturgy.

Gallicanism?

But when the liturgy is something each one makes by himself, then it no longer gives us what is its true quality: encounter with the mystery which is not our product but our origin and the wellspring of our life….

The sort of thing you cherish.

He carries the idea further.

“I am convinced that the ecclesial crisis [!] in which we find ourselves depends in great part upon the collapse of the liturgy, which at times is actually being conceived of etsi Deus non daretur: as though in the liturgy it did not matter any more whether God exists and whether He speaks to us and listens to us.

A sort of navel-gazing?

“But if in the liturgy the communion of faith no longer appears . . . where [does] the Church appear in her spiritual substance?,” he asked.

The spiritual gets downplayed or left out.

Too often, Ratzinger lamented, “the community is only celebrating itself without its being worthwhile to do so.”

Waste of time, he’s saying. You can do that at a birthday party.

He’d already said things like this.

On at least two other occasions, Cardinal Ratzinger has criticized specific liturgical abuses [at] other highly publicized events, [where] he has praised the beauty of the old Mass.

But this newly released autobiography is “the first prolonged lament over the wholesale replacement of one liturgy with another.”

In 1969, in his General Instruction of the Roman Missal, Paul VI revised the the Mass and related prayers and banned, with few exceptions, the Mass rite, effective after a transition period of several months.”

The die was cast.

The Mass had undergone “evolutionary changes” throughout history, but always with a sense of “continuity,” Ratzinger wrote, including when Pius V, after reworking the Missal in 1570 following the Council of Trent, allowed for continued use of some liturgies “with centuries-long traditions.”

Not this time, and aiming at recoverying that sense of continuity, he called for “a new liturgical movement to call back to life the true heritage of Vatican Council II.”

“It is dramatically urgent,” he wrote,to have a renewal of liturgical awareness” and “understands Vatican II not as a break, but as a developing moment.

Few talk that way in our day. Quite the contrary.

Why Catholics flock to old-style masses. A 1993 account in Chi Trib, Part Two . . .

A `vertical’ approach

The more than 400-year-old Latin Tridentine mass (established by the counter-reformation Council of Trent) is “the true mass,” [said worshiper Miguel Garcia]. “God instituted it one way, and we shouldn’t be changing it. That’s what happened at Vatican II.”

Something else happened, according to organist and choir director John Cooper of Clarendon Hills, an insurance salesman and part-time jazz pianist. It’s not just that the new mass “an atrocity.” The new church “hasn’t worked.” Seminaries are closing and mass attendance is down, thanks to “all this liberty baloney. People need some kind of regimentation,” he said.

As Scott put it, “No condemnation, no obligation. Popes always used to condemn things, but liberals don’t believe in condemning anybody.”

Scott terms Pope John Paul II “a conservative liberal” who is “very weak in governing the church. He has not acted against heresies.” One such heresy, Scott argues, is to “make man the center of the liturgy.”

Indeed, at Our Lady Immaculate, worshipers look to the altar. There is no handshake of peace before communion (received kneeling and on the tongue, not standing and in the hand), as in the new mass. It is what’s called a “vertical service,” teaching people to look up, to God, rather than “horizontally,” to one another.

“The way you worship affects your view of God,” Scott said. “It is not just sentimentality. We like Latin, the Gregorian mass, and incense. But none of these are the point.”

“What was touted as church renewal and revival has obviously fallen flat on its face,” said John Pfeiffer of Forest Park, a 32-year-old Loop attorney, referring to priestly defections, shortage of vocations, and the like.

“People don’t realize their Catholic faith is being snatched away from them, like in the time of Henry VIII,” said Rita McCarthy, a 40-ish Orland Park typesetter.

“At a funeral, there’s no mention of purgatory. In baptism there’s no mention of original sin. In marriage, emphasis is on the couple. But the first purpose of marriage is to have children, and the relationship of the couple is secondary. All of the sacraments have been watered down. People don’t know anything about sin anymore. Divorce, abortion, birth control condemn you to hell. People don’t seem to know that.”

The church is not amused

Authorized Latin masses are offered at three churches weekly – St. John Cantius, 825 N. Carpenter St.; St. Thomas More, 2828 W. 81st St.; and St. Peter, in Antioch – and every other week in Libertyville and Techny.

But Catholics are forbidden to attend Our Lady Immaculate in Oak Park, though an archdiocese official is wary of saying that it is a sin to do so or that specific penalties will be meted out.

The Society of St. Pius X is “not schismatic,” meaning it hasn’t formally split from Rome, notes Rev. Robert Flinn, vice chancellor of the archdiocese. Its bishops and priests are excommunicated, but its parishioners are welcomed back “just by coming, with no need for special absolution.” They need only “disassociate themselves from their Pius X church.”

That’s “moral persecution,” Scott said. “We remind (archdiocesan authorities) continually of what they ought to be. We have a sense of identity and purpose and mission which they have lost.”

Scott himself is a convert from Protestantism, drawn to Catholicism by the writings of St. John of the Cross, the 16th Century mystic who wrote from a prison cell after getting in trouble with the church, and by the traditional Latin mass. Scott had found the new mass “more Protestant than Protestant services” and lacking in reverence.

He met Lefebvre in Melbourne, asked to be ordained, and went to Switzerland for six years to study theology. Ordained in 1988, he was sent to the U.S., where he taught for two years at the society’s seminary in Winona, Minn.

Now based in Kansas City, he heads the society in the U.S. with its 35 priest members (of 250 worldwide) and 100 chapels and other installations in 38 states. He says mass in Elkhart, Ind., or Memphis on alternating Sundays after his Oak Park appearances.

A former Jesuit theological seminary in St. Mary’s, Kan., near Kansas City is the site of the society’s coed kindergarten-through-high-school “academy,” with 345 students, and its 50-student college. At St. Mary’s the society has its biggest parish, where 1,300 attend weekly. The Oak Park parish has 90 families. Weekly attendance is around 235.

The church, formerly Second Presbyterian of Oak Park, was bought for $390,000 by members of the Holiday Inn group. The society took over payments and spent $20,000 to rebuild the altar area and install new stained-glass windows and an altar rail-“to remake it as Catholic,” Scott said.

Traditional worship and morality are the key to Our Lady Immaculate’s attraction, but members’ finding a home away from home is strong as well, as with any successful church.

A sympathetic ear

Scott talks a tough game from the pulpit, but he also offers a good shoulder to cry on, to judge from Julie Badon’s experience. One of her daughters sought him out in the midst of a recent crisis.

“Father Scott counseled her and was very patient with her,” Badon said. “She really loves Father Scott, and has no qualms about approaching him.”

— End of story —

Why Catholics flock to old-style masses. A 1993 account in Chi Trib about what drew them to it in the face of church opposition.

Every time Julie Badon, a 46-year-old Berwyn homemaker and lifelong devout Catholic, goes to church in Oak Park on Sunday, she violates an edict of the Roman Catholic Archdiocese of Chicago.

The mass, in which a priest stands with his back to the people, who pray to God with prayer books and rosaries, is celebrated by a priest of the Society of St. Pius X, founded by the late Archbishop Marcel Lefebvre, a Frenchman who rejected the reformist Second Vatican Council as the work of the devil and was excommunicated for ordaining bishops on his own.

For Julie Badon and hundreds of other worshipers at Our Lady Immaculate, 410 W. Washington Blvd., ostracism by her church is not too high a price to pay for the consolations of the pre-Vatican II mass and the devotion it inspires.

Every time Julie Badon, a 46-year-old Berwyn homemaker and lifelong devout Catholic, goes to church in Oak Park on Sunday, she violates an edict of the Roman Catholic Archdiocese of Chicago.

She does it anyhow, convinced that she has found at Our Lady Immaculate the one, true mass rejected for the most part by the one, true church she grew up in.

It’s a Tridentine Latin mass, outlawed for 13 years by one pope and only partly permitted by another, as of 1984.

The mass, in which a priest stands with his back to the people, who pray to God with prayer books and rosaries, is celebrated by a priest of the Society of St. Pius X, founded by the late Archbishop Marcel Lefebvre, a Frenchman who rejected the reformist Second Vatican Council as the work of the devil and was excommunicated for ordaining bishops on his own.

The Lefebvre phenomenon is unique in recent Catholic history because, as a bishop who ordained other bishops, he set in motion a self-perpetuating rebel structure. It was the first major schism within the church since the turn-of-the-century exit of the Polish National Catholic Church of America.

Lefebvre ordained his four bishops in 1988, having broken off talks with the Vatican authorized by Pope John Paul II in an effort to head him off at the pass before he institutionalized his rebellion.

Lefebvre and his followers, the equally excommunicated priests and bishops of his society, have essentially told the Vatican to take the Second Vatican Council (1962-65), source of virtually all that is changed and modernized in the church, and shove it.

For Julie Badon and hundreds of other worshipers at Our Lady Immaculate, 410 W. Washington Blvd., ostracism by her church is not too high a price to pay for the consolations of the pre-Vatican II mass and the devotion it inspires.

It’s not the only Latin mass in town. Since February 1990, the archdiocese has allowed a Latin mass at three churches, one on Chicago’s Near Northwest Side, one on the South Side, and one in Antioch in Lake County.

But Our Lady Immaculate is the only local church run by the St. Pius X Society, an international organization that remains by far the biggest traditionalist thorn in the side of the Vatican since the Second Vatican Council.

At the heart of the rebellion, symbolic and symptomatic of the society’s rejection of changes in the church, is Sunday mass with incense and Latin and statues all around, as the mass used to be before the council.

To Our Lady Immaculate, worshipers come from Aurora, Oak Lawn, Rolling Meadows, Arlington Heights, the Northwest Side and points in between, self-described refugees from “the new mass” and the new church-what Catholicism hath wrought in the last 30 years.

`I feel like a dinosaur’

Balloons in church for her son’s first communion pushed Badon over the edge of churchly respectability 17 years ago; that and mass for a much-loved uncle held in the school basement around a small table surrounded by folding chairs.

“I wanted a mass for my uncle,” she said, “and instead I got a paraliturgy”-not a mass at all, but a prayer service modeled on a mass.

It wasn’t what she’d been raised on in several South Side parishes and a South Side high school-all of them gone now, like the Latin mass. She and her husband wanted their five children to have what they had as kids, “the sacraments, the way we were taught. Sometimes I feel like a dinosaur. Everything from my past is gone.”

At Our Lady Immaculate, it all returns. Rev. Peter Scott, a 35-year-old Australian ordained in 1988 by Archbishop Lefebvre, who died in 1991, commutes weekly from Kansas City, Mo., where he is U.S. superior for the Society of St. Pius X.

A slight, lean, dark-haired man who says mass with grave demeanor and preaches with verve and intensity, he is the chief deliverer to Badon and others of old-time Catholic religion, with its deep suspicion of the outside world, its emphasis on asceticism, and its confidence of possessing the true faith.

Living for the afterlife

“So many Catholics are Sunday Catholics,” Scott says from the pulpit after reading Scripture passages twice, first in Latin at the altar with his back to them and then in English from the pulpit. “They are a very common species. They don’t want to get involved.

“It’s a natural tendency. But we must overcome the spirit and influence of the world, perform our daily prayers, say the rosary, examine our conscience. We must watch closely over our daily lives, shunning immodesty, rock music, TV. The world is controlled by the passions of the flesh. The modern world is full of despair. It has no future, no hope.”

He decries “the liberalism of the day” and bids his listeners look ahead to the afterlife. “The torments of the world are allowed so that we might live not for this life but for eternity.” He extols “the joy of depending on God” and predicts, “Our sorrow can be turned into joy.”

Preaching like that keeps Francis Gaul coming back for more. Gaul, 74, a 1937 graduate of Mt. Carmel High School on the South Side, and his wife commute weekly from Des Plaines to Our Lady Immaculate. He hasn’t been to a new mass in 17 years.

He won’t attend any of the archdiocese-sanctioned Latin, or “indult” as they’re called, masses in the Chicago area. “The sermons would not be what I get here. The church isn’t Catholic anymore. It’s Protestant.”

“Today’s church is in direct contradiction with what the popes have taught,” Scott said. He argues that the church is in conflict because it approves religious liberty, ecumenism and the non-Latin mass, which were condemned, respectively, by Pius IX in 1864, Pius XI in 1929, and Pius XII in 1947.

The new mass is “Protestant in its inspiration,” vetted of its Catholic meaning for ecumenical reasons, Scott said. As such, it is “dangerous” to the faith of Catholics because it teaches the wrong things, de-emphasizing the sacrificial and emphasizing the communal-meal aspect of the mass.

For instance, worshipers in the new mass often hold hands while saying the “Pater Noster,” or “Lord’s Prayer.” Asked about this, Scott said derisively, “Oh, please.”

Hand-holding, balloons in the sanctuary, wine served in paper cups, wooden chalices and folk songs-it’s all anathema to members of Our Lady Immaculate, who worshiped 10 years at the Hillside Holiday Inn before coming to Oak Park.

At the Holiday Inn, they set up an instant chapel, bringing statues in garbage cans that they up-ended and draped as pedestals.

This sort of preparation is crucial for Miguel Garcia, a Northwest Side computer programmer and father of four small children, here 17 years from his native Mexico. Garcia rejects the “party atmosphere” of masses where the priest dresses in “ethnic colors so Spanish people can relate to it.” He finds it disrespectful, “because God is King.”

— To be concluded: Part 2 coming up —

Shades of British notables defending traditional . . .

British Celebrities Urge Pope Francis to Maintain Traditional Latin Mass

Prominent British cultural and public figures have appealed to Pope Francis to reconsider restrictions on the Traditional Latin Mass.

The letter, published in The Times [of london], was signed by over 40 individuals including “Downton Abbey” creator Julian Fellowes, composer Andrew Lloyd Webber, and Princess Michael of Kent.

The letter expressed concerns over “worrying reports from Rome that the Latin Mass is to be banished from nearly every Catholic church.” The signatories said the Traditional Latin Mass has great cultural and historical significance of the, describing it as a “cathedral of text and gesture, developing … over many centuries.”

The appeal draws a parallel to a similar letter from 1971 led by figures like Agatha Christie, which resulted in the “Agatha Christie indult.” This allowed the Traditional Latin Mass to be celebrated on special occasions in England and Wales. “The old rite’s ability to encourage silence and contemplation is a treasure not easily replicated,” the new letter said.

The letter, like its predecessor, was “entirely ecumenical and non-political,” including Catholics, non-Catholics, and non-believers.

“We implore the Holy See to reconsider any further restriction of access to this magnificent spiritual and cultural heritage,” the letter urged.

It worked with Paul VI. This time around? Long shot.