Thomas Merton on Latin and Gregorian Chant (1964)

 [234] To Dom Ignace Gillet

September 11, 1964

[236] Much is said here about Latin and Gregorian chant: things to be "suppressed" because we do not "understand" them. Well, this is a very serious point. I believe that, as you say, many young people more easily admit that they are dissatisfied with the Gregorian chant and the Latin, because they are made to believe this. I know very well that in our monasteries in America there is a real movement, an agitation, for this and for still other things. People are pushed into thinking that they are dissatisfied with the Latin, the Gregorian chant, the status of laybrother, the liturgy as we have it, when in reality that is not the case at all. For a long time it was said here that "the brothers" in general wanted to change habit, come to choir, change their status, etc. But it was only a few brothers who, moreover, were not always the best ones but who got more agitated and had more to say, and who tried to persuade the others to go with them, etc. You know these stories quite well by now.

But this is what I think about the Latin and the chant: They are masterpieces, which offer us an irreplaceable monastic and Christian experience. They have a force, an energy, a depth without equal. All the proposed English offices are very much impoverished in comparison—besides, it is not at all impossible to make such things understood and appreciated. Generally I succeeded quite well in this, in the novitiate, with some exceptions, naturally, who did not understand well. But I must add something more serious. As you know, I have many friends in the world who are artists, poets, authors, editors, etc. Now they are well able to appreciate our chant and even our Latin. But they are all, without exception, scandalized and grieved when I tell them that probably this Office, this Mass will no longer be here in ten years. And that is the worst. The monks cannot understand this treasure they possess, and they throw it out to look for something else, when seculars, who for the most part are not even Christians, are able to love this incomparable art.

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Source: Thomas Merton, The School of Charity: The Letters of Thomas Merton on Religious Renewal and Spiritual Direction, ed. Patrick Hart (New York, NY: Farrar, Straus & Giroux, 1990), 234, 236.

Repost: "A First Encounter with the Traditional Mass"

Source: http://sthughofcluny.org/2017/03/a-first-encounter-with-the-traditional-mass.html

Visit the original post to see pictures!

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We have heard, endlessly repeated over the decades, that the Traditional mass constitutes a barrier to those “outside”: the young, those not practicing their faith and non-Catholics. It is supposed to lock these devoted to it in an inaccessible “ghetto.” Is this true? A now obscure episode of German literary history enables us to test these claims – almost under laboratory conditions.

In the summer of 1793, while the French revolution and its wars were ravaging Europe, the young law students Wilhelm Heinrich Wackenroder and his friend Ludwig Tieck set out on a series of journeys from the South German university town of Erlangen. They would have an epochal effect on German culture. They traveled through the wild, hilly uplands of Franconia – deep valleys, mysterious caverns, ruined castles and bizarre mountain formations – helping to ignite the Romantic enthusiasm for nature. They explored the winding streets and many medieval monuments of the ancient, almost fossilized but still intact city of Nuremberg, rediscovering the Middle Ages. In palaces, churches, monasteries and cities they studied paintings and sculptures, launching a cult both of the Italian Renaissance and of the age of Albrecht Dürer. But what concerns us is another trip, this time by Wackenroder alone, to investigate not nature or the artifacts of the past, but the Catholic world of his own time. He undertook a journey to the nearby city of Bamberg.

Although a little over 26 miles removed from Erlangen, a trip to the Catholic world of Bamberg was to Wackenroder much the same as a journey to Afghanistan or Burma might be to us. Such was the consciousness of the religious divide in the Germany of that era. Moreover, Wackenroder and Tieck both hailed from Berlin, a stronghold of Protestantism and of the Enlightenment and the most extreme antipode to the Catholic principalities of the Holy Roman Empire. Wackenroder himself seems to have started his journey with no great knowledge of Catholics or liking for them. Indeed, he was of the opinion that Catholics were biologically distinguishable from Protestants:

The character of the Bambergers, in general, is supposed to be ingenuous, dull, and superstitious – and involve frequent beer drinking. As in all Catholic countries, the numerous holy days invite laziness. The general Catholic national physiognomy is very striking and characteristic especially of the women. They are mostly small, anything but beautiful and have a snub nose.

However, the Catholic Church that Wackenroder encountered in 1793 was not that of the desiccated services of the post-Pius X reforms, let alone the cold minimalist rituals we see Bamberg today, attended by only a handful of worshippers. No – it was the Catholic Church bathed in the last golden glow of the setting baroque sun. It was a world of processions, relics and devotions, of overflowing public and popular piety, of splendid masses accompanied by orchestras, gunfire salutes and trumpet blasts! Bamberg was at that time a separate principality of the Holy Roman Empire, ruled by a prince-bishop (an institution so characteristic of the old German Empire!). In Wackenroder’s day, “enlightened” bishops had recently taken steps to reduce the number of processions, to cut down on holydays and to restrain the popular enthusiasm. But much still remained!

He was struck by the superabundance of art in the Cathedral:

Inside, the cathedral contains an indescribable richness of old paintings, tombs and reliefs. One finds similar things in all Catholic churches but not always in such abundance….One can study these all the easier because all Catholic churches are usually open the entire day except in the afternoon; and one doesn’t disturb the few people who are praying at different times in the churches.

Wackenroder continues:

In this cathedral so curious and ancient for me, I attended with the greatest interest on the feast of Saint Henry (the patron saint of Bamberg- SC) High Mass that was held on Sunday from 9 to 10 after the preaching, and on every major feast…. In the streets, flowers were on sale everywhere, which everyone brought into the cathedral. Before the church a woman sat, selling rosaries and scapulars. I bought for myself a rosary for three Kreuzer and a scapular. 

As I entered the venerable church I found it already almost full. I pushed forward up to the main altar and waited now for the solemn scene. Oh! – truly I had not expected very much. Everything was new for me. The ceremonies, which every minute always changed, made an ever stronger and wonderful impression on me the more they were mysterious and unintelligible. I was standing among nothing but Catholics: men, women and children. Some were constantly reading prayer books; others prayed the rosary while standing, yet others reverently knelt right next to me. 

Here I found proved so clearly what Nicolai relates: that fixed raising of the gaze in prayer, which suddenly blazes up to heaven without resting on earthly objects; the making of the sign of the cross in holy zeal; the heartfelt firm striking of the breast which, with expressive glances towards heaven and with deeply felt sighs, shows such special depth of feeling. …One is totally initiated into the Catholic faith here and almost driven to participate in all the ceremonies. 

Now on the high altar, adorned in red, a mass of candles was lit. Everyone who passed this altar genuflected. Now four or five clerics in splendid vestments, embroidered with great flowers in green and gold, with red and white, appeared on the steps of the altar and began the High Mass. It was entirely in Latin, but is available to the people in German translation. The High Mass itself consists of a great number of ceremonies, precisely organized but unintelligible to me. Now this or that cleric sang, with a hoarse, monotonous and unpleasant voice, prayers or selections from the bible – now before the altar, now from a pulpit across from the altar. There, lower clerics in simple choir robes with black collars stood at his side, carrying candles. Now a cleric did this or that on the altar; now they changed places, knelt here or there, on this or that step, now the organ interrupted them at every second or third word and accompanied their chant, of which I could understand only isolated words that were often repeated: a “dominus vobiscum” and an “in saeculo saeculorum.” 

Now, accompanied by violins, etc, arias and choruses were sung in other parts of the church; now the Host on the altar was incensed with a silver thurible hanging from chains; now a cleric took the Host to the other end of the church and returned, always preceded by a soldier with his musket. For, right next to me on the high altar stood four soldiers. On the sides sat the canons in white choir robes and red collars; the cleric with the thurible also approached them, swung it upwards before them and incensed them – which impressed me greatly. 

The most solemn moment, however, was when another cleric showed to the people the monstrance (a gleaming crystal case in which the Host resides). At this moment a bell was rung, the soldiers presented their arms, took off their hats and fell to their knees. The whole congregation fell down and crossed itself, blaring trumpets rang out, which were lost amid the long drawn out sounds of horns. I also fell to my knees, for otherwise I certainly would have exposed myself to the indignation of the people; moreover it would indeed have taken an effort to remain standing in isolation, for a whole world knelt down around me, and everything prompted me to the highest devotion – to do otherwise would have been as if I didn’t belong to the human race.

We will pass over the other artistic experiences and investigations of Wackenroder in Bamberg. But we must mention his participation on subsequent days in public processions, which impressed him greatly. On one such occasion, one of the natives raged at him for not taking off his hat – something like that can befall young ladies today who walk into certain Traditional masses wearing trousers…

Wackenroder’s impressions of individual Catholics and their clergy, however, were mixed. One day (in a subsequent visit to Bamberg with Tieck):

A procession of Carmelites, Dominicans, Franciscans and Capuchins left the church. I saw some venerable and really ideal old men among them.

Several Catholic clerics and other friends, moreover, were very kind and helpful hosts to Wackenroder during his stay in Bamberg. Yet:

The Catholics that I knew were not orthodox and themselves smiled over the peculiarities of their religion.

Wackenroder himself had to endure the company of one insufferable enlightened character who yearned to break out from Catholicism.

On a second journey to Bamberg, Wackenroder and companions wanted to experience the Benedictine life in the nearby monastery of Banz. To their distress, they quickly found that, in that stronghold of the Catholic enlightenment, the traditions of medieval hospitality had vanished….

Among our author’s most positive experiences of an individual Catholic was a visit to a school for girls, where Wackenroder admired a sister of the order of the “English Ladies” conducting a class.[1]

Four years later, in 1797, appeared Wackenroder’s Outpourings from the Heart of an Art-Loving Monk – the title alone reads like a fantastic Romantic manifesto. In this book Wackenroder alludes several times to his experiences in Bamberg, above all in one crucial chapter describing a young German painter encountering the Catholic mass. Wackenroder shifts the time from that of his era to the early 16th century, the place from Bamberg, the “German Rome,” to the real one, and the church from an early Gothic cathedral to the Pantheon. Instead of the sober, almost scientific prose of the accounts of his travels, the style is florid, exalted, and enthusiastic – in a word, Romantic. (Indeed, my edition claims the following passages were actually written by Tieck; the two friends often contributed to each other’s works.)

I went recently into the rotunda [of the Pantheon] for it was a great festival and a splendid Latin music was going to be performed – but really above all to see my beloved again among the praying crowd and to hover in the presence of her celestial devotion. The splendid temple, the huge mass of the people that again and again pressed in and surrounded me ever closer, and the dazzling preparations – all this induced in my soul a wonderful attentiveness. I was most solemnly disposed. Even if I wasn’t thinking clearly and lucidly, as usually happens in such a tumult, my very soul was stirred as if something very special was about to happen within me. At once everything grew quieter. Above us began the all-powerful music – slowly, fully, expansively – as if there blew an invisible wind above our heads. Like the sea it surged forth in ever-greater waves, and its sounds drew my soul completely outside of my body. My heart pounded, and I felt a mighty yearning for something great and sublime that I could embrace. The full Latin chant that, rising and falling, forced its way through the tones of the music like ships sailing through the waves of the sea, raised my soul ever higher. And, while the music pervaded my entire being and ran through all my veins, I, who had been sunk in thought, raised my eyes and looked about me. The entire temple appeared alive before my eyes – the music had intoxicated me so! At that moment the music stopped, a priest advanced before the high altar, raised the host with an enthusiastic gesture and showed it to all. Everybody fell on his knees, trumpets blared out indescribable, all-powerful sounds and solemn prayers resounded everywhere. All those pressed tightly around me fell to their knees. A secret miraculous power drew me too to the floor, and I couldn’t have resisted with all my might. 

And now, as I knelt with bowed head, and my heart soared within my breast, an unknown power lifted again my gaze. I looked around me, and it seemed clearly as if all the Catholics, men and women, who, kneeling, now meditated, now gazed up to heaven, crossed themselves reverently, struck their breast and moved their praying lips – as if all were praying to the Father in heaven for the salvation of my soul, as if all the hundreds around me prayed for a lost one in their midst and drew me over to their faith in silent worship but with irresistible force. Then I glanced to the side at Maria, and I saw a great holy tears spring from her blue eyes. I didn’t know what was happening within me, I couldn’t stand her gaze any more, I turned my head sideways, my eyes fell upon an altar, and a painting of Christ on the cross looked at me with indescribable melancholy. The mighty columns of the temple rose, worthy of reverence, before my eyes like saints and apostles, and looked down on me with their capitals full of dignity. The endless vault of the dome bowed down like the all-embracing heaven over me, and blessed my pious resolutions. 

I could not leave the temple after the end of the celebration, I fell down in a corner and wept, and then passed with a contrite heart all the saints, all the paintings – it seemed that only now could I really contemplate and revere them. I could not resist the force within me – dear Sebastian, I have now crossed over to your faith, and my heart feels happy and light. It was art that had all-powerfully drawn me over, and I can say that only now can I understand and grasp art.

It’s clear that here Wackenroder has built upon the details of what he himself saw in Bamberg but has transfigured them in a new literary form. The emphasis, moreover, has shifted not so subtly from religious ritual to the aesthetic power wielded by art: the architecture, the paintings and above all the music – even leading to a conversion! There is romantic subjectivity too, as the artist’s tearful beloved becomes a Madonna figure leading to Christ. But let’s not be critical: didn’t Vladimir Soloviev point out that St Vladimir chose the Orthodox faith for Russia because the beauty of the ceremonies of St. Sophia impressed him so? And, aside from any aesthetic experiences, the unforgettable impression made on the writer by the open and unashamed devotion of the simple Catholic faithful is the same both in this story and the original account.

Other than what we can surmise from these writings, we know of no conversion in the case of Wackenroder himself. He died in 1798, aged only 24. But he has left for us a marvelous description of a Catholic liturgy, which on one special day made such an indelible impression upon him. For this Mass, so foreign to him, and that he could not “understand,” had clearly communicated to him the most profound sense of worship and of the Divine. Such is the transformative power, both in 1793 and today, of this Mass – the Mass of Tradition!

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All the quotations are from Wackenroder, Wilhelm Heinrich, Werke und Briefe (1967 Verlag Lambert Schneider, Heidelberg) (reprint of the 1938 edition with the inclusion of one additional letter).

Footnotes:

1. “English Ladies” (Englische Fräulein) a order of teaching sisters founded by Mary Ward in the 17th century but by far more widespread in Germany than in England.

Joseph Card. Ratzinger on Degrading the Traditional Latin Mass

I am of the opinion, to be sure, that the old rite should be granted much more generously to all those who desire it. It’s impossible to see what could be dangerous or unacceptable about that. A community is calling its very being into question when it suddenly declares that what until now was its holiest and highest possession is strictly forbidden, and when it makes the longing for it seem downright indecent. Can it be trusted any more about anything else? Won’t it proscribe tomorrow what it prescribes today?

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Source: Joseph Card. Ratzinger and Peter Seewald, Salt of the Earth, trans. by Adrian Walker (San Francisco, CA: Ignatius Press, 1997), 176–177.

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For fostering a true consciousness in liturgical matters, it is also important that the proscription against the form of liturgy in valid use up to 1970 should be lifted. Anyone who nowadays advocates the continuing existence of this liturgy or takes part in it is treated like a leper; all tolerance ends here. There has never been anything like this in history; in doing this we are despising and proscribing the Church’s whole past. How can one trust her present if things are that way? I must say, quite openly, that I don’t understand why so many of my episcopal brethren have to a great extent submitted to this rule of intolerance, which for no apparent reason is opposed to making the necessary inner reconciliations within the Church.

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Source: Joseph Card. Ratzinger and Peter Seewald, God and the World, trans. by Henry Taylor (San Francisco, CA: Ignatius Press, 2002), 416.

Liturgy Cannot Be Primarily Catechetical

However, it was soon pointed out that while pastoral considerations are important, the really basic issue involves a proper attitude toward and a proper behavior at worship. In short, worship itself is the issue. It was felt the consideration shown the catechetical and intellectual elements of the liturgy are sometimes excessive, and detrimental to the very act of worship. Thus, no one can be expected to understand every word of the liturgy, regardless of the language, unless we wish to recruit candidates for the lunatic asylums. Following the catechetical argument to its logical conclusion, we would arrive at a point where we would be faced with the necessity of providing different sets of missals for different strata of intelligence. Nor will audibility guarantee understanding. Nor must the mysterium element of public worship be sacrificed.

Source: Msgr. Francis P. Schmitt, "Project 90 (II)," in Caecilia 90, no. 3 (Autumn 1963): 115.

Commentary on the "Veni Creator Spiritus"

Veni Creator Spiritus,
Mentes tuorum visita,
Imple superna gratia,
Quæ tu creasti pectora

Qui diceris Paraclitus,
Altissimi donum Dei,
Fons vivus, ignis, caritas,
Et spiritalis unctio.

Tu septiformis munere,
Digitus Paternæ dexteræ,
Tu rite promissum Patris,
Sermone ditans guttura.

Accende lumen sensibus,
Infunde amorem cordibus
Infirma nostri corporis
Virtute firmans perpeti.

Hostem repellas longius,
Pacemque dones protinus;
Ductore sic te prævio,
Vitemus omne noxium.

Per te sciamus da Patrem,
Noscamus atque Fillium,
Teque utriusque Spiritum
Credamus omni tempore.

Deo Patri sit gloria,
Et Fillo, qui a mortuis
Surrexit, ac Paraclito,
In sæculorum sæcula.

English translation:

Creator-Spirit, all-Divine,
Come, visit every soul of Thine,
And fill with Thy celestial flame
The hearts which Thou Thyself didst frame.

O gift of God, Thine is the sweet
Consoling name of Paraclete—
And spring of life and fire and love
And unction flowing from above.

The mystic sevenfold gifts are Thine,
Finger of God’s right hand divine;
The Father’s promise sent to teach
The tongue a rich and heavenly speech.

Kindle with fire brought from above
Each sense, and fill our hearts with love;
And grant our flesh, so weak and frail,
The strength of Thine which cannot fail.

Drive far away our deadly foe,
And grant us Thy true peace to know;
So we, led by Thy guidance still,
May safely pass through every ill.

To us, through Thee, the grace be shown
To know the Father and the Son:
And Spirit of Them both, may we
Forever rest our faith in Thee.

To Sire and Son be praises meet,
And to the Holy Paraclete;
And may Christ send us from above
That Holy Spirit’s gift of love.

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Translation by Father Aylward, O.P. There are about sixty translations; eight of which are in the Annus Sanctus. 

Liturgical Use: Hymn for Vespers and Terce on Whitsunday and throughout the octave. Terce (the 3rd hour, 9am) was the hour on which the Holy Ghost descended upon the Apostles (Acts 2, 15). The hymn is used on many other solemn occasions in liturgical and extra-liturgical functions as an invocation to the Holy Spirit. With the exception of the Te Deum, there is probably no other hymn so extensively used in the Church as the Veni Creator Spiritus. [...]

1. "Come, Creator Spirit, visit the souls of Thy children, and fill with heavenly grace the hearts which Thou hast made." 

Creator: The three Divine Persons concur equally in their external operation; thus the Father created, the Son created, and the Holy Ghost created.

2. "Thou who art called the Paraclete, the gift of God most high, the living fountain, fire, love, and spiritual unction."

Paraclitus: the Paraclete, the Holy Spirit; a Greek word signifying—the consoler, comforter. In the Scriptures the word occurs only in St. John 14, 16; 14, 26; 15, 26; 16, 7. 

Donum: The Holy Spirit is called the ''gift of God most high." To receive the gift of the Holy Ghost (Acts 2, 38) is equivalent to receiving the Holy Ghost with His gifts. 

Fons vivus: Sed aqua, quam ego dabo ei, fiet in eo fons aquse salientis in vitam seternam [Translation: But the water that I will give him, shall become in him a fountain of water, springing up into life everlasting.] (John 4, 14).

Ignis: Earthly fire illuminates, enkindles, consumes, and purifies from dross; so too, in its nature, is the fire of the Holy Spirit—enlightening, love-enkindling, sin-destroying, and purifying. This fire manifests itself in works of charity, and especially in preaching with zeal and fervor the word of God. 

Caritas: Deus caritas est, et qui manet in caritate, in Deo manet, et Deus in eo [Translation: But the water that I will give him, shall become in him a fountain of water, springing up into life everlasting.] (I John 4, 16). 

Spiritalis [or] Spiritualis: The grace of God is called unction or anointing because the effects produced by it in the spiritual order are analogous to those produced by ointment in the natural order. It cools, refreshes, exhilarates, strengthens, heals, enriches, etc. 

3. "Thou art sevenfold in Thy gifts, the finger of the Father's right hand; Thou art the express promise of the Father, endowing tongues with speech." 

Septiformis: The seven gifts of the Holy Ghost are enumerated by the Prophet Isaias: Et requiescet super eum spiritus Domini; spiritus sapientias et intellectus, spiritus consilii et fortitudinis, spiritus scientias et pietatis, et replebit eum spiritus timoris Domini [Translation: And the spirit of the Lord shall rest upon him: the spirit of wisdom, and of understanding, the spirit of counsel, and of fortitude, the spirit of knowledge, and of godliness. And he shall be filled with the spirit of the fear of the Lord.] (Is. 11, 2-3).

Digitus Dei: The Holy Spirit is called the "finger of God" as may be seen from the following parallel passages: Si in digito Dei eicio daemonia [Translation: But if I by the finger of God cast out devils...] (Luke 11, 20). Si autem ego in Spiritu Dei eicio daemones [Translation: But if I by the Spirit of God cast out devils...] (Matt. 12, 28). 

Rite: explicit, distinctly stated. 

Promissum, i = promissio. Et ego mitto promissum Patris mei in vos [Translation: And I send the promise of my Father upon you...] (Luke 24, 49). Sed expectarent promissionem Patris [Translation: ...but should wait for the promise of the Father...] (Acts 1, 4). 

Sermone: A reference to the gift of tongues (Acts 2, 4). 

4. "Enkindle Thy light within our minds, infuse Thy love into our hearts ; strengthen the weakness of our flesh by Thy never-failing power." 

5. "Drive far away our enemy, and forthwith grant us peace; so that while Thou leadest the way as our guide, we may avoid everything harmful." 

6. "Grant that through Thee we may know the Father; through Thee, the Son; and may we ever believe in Thee, the Spirit of Them both."

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Source: Fr. Matthew Britt, OSB, The Hymns of the Breviary and Missal (New York, NY: Benzinger Brothers, 1922), 162–164.

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If there are few perfect souls, this is because there are few that follow the direction of the Holy Ghost. His seven gifts often have little effect in many souls because they are, as it were, fettered by contrary habits and affections. More or less deliberate and frequent venial sins exclude the graces necessary to produce the acts of the gifts. But we cannot doubt their existence, because Scripture, tradition, and the liturgy speak of them, and, if the obstacles were removed, we should ordinarily see the gradual realization of what the Church makes us implore in the Veni Creator [....]

This prayer, which should be said by the faithful soul with an ever increasing fervor of will, reminds us that the life of grace is eternal life begun; and it ends by asking for the normal fruit of this "grace of the virtues and of the gifts," the infused contemplation of the Blessed Trinity dwelling in us:

To us, through Thee, the grace be shown
To know the Father and the Son:
And Spirit of Them both, may we
Forever hold firm trust in Thee.`

[...] We must trust in the Holy Ghost who dwells in us and who increases His work in us in proportion to our growing fidelity to the first commandment: "Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with thy whole heart, and with thy whole soul, and with all thy strength, and with all thy mind" in order to become "adorers in spirit and in truth." Our Lord said: "I will not now call you servants... but I have called you friends." We should believe in the wholly divine strength of the grace received in baptism, of the Holy Ghost who was given to us. We do not see this strength any more than we see the life hidden in an acorn from which a vigorous oak grows. If the oak is encircled by a band of iron, the bark will soon grow over it. Who can measure the supernatural energy contained in the grace of the virtues and the gifts, which is none other than eternal life begun? Who can set a limit to the work of sanctification which the Holy Ghost has begun in us, and prevent souls from reaching even the inner sanctuary where the Blessed Trinity dwells? "Wherefore I wished, and understanding was given me: and I called upon God, and the spirit of wisdom came upon me" (Wis. 7:7). "I confess to Thee, O Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because Thou hast hid these things from the wise and prudent, and hast revealed them to little ones" (Mt. 11:25).

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Source: Fr. Reginald Garrigou-Lagrange, OP, Christian Contemplation and Perfection, trans. by M. Timothea Doyle (Rockford, IL: TAN Books, 2003), 406–408.

Language as Communication, Big Words, Liturgy, Preaching

First watch this video:

I haven't read the study itself, nor do I plan to, but I think Derek's break down of the study shows clearly how deeply embedded is our modern society's emphasis on language as communication rather than expression. We like language that communicates clearly and succinctly. Even further, we prefer clear communication that uses small words than big words, even if it takes more small words to communicate the same thing.

Case in point. In the English translation (2010) of the Roman Missal for the Novus Ordo liturgy, "one in being" was replaced with the more Latinate "consubstantial" in the Nicene Creed. People asked, "What does 'consubstantial' mean?" The response: "one in being" (ish). Why was the change made, then, it was asked. People dislike the new translation because it has bigger words, more complex sentences, and unusual phrasing that follows the way the Latin language works more than the English.

So, as Derek pointed out, this goes to show that as a society we prefer and (unconsciously) assume that language is mostly supposed to be about communication.

And yet we cannot get rid of language as expression, under which "style" falls. Even Derek's presentation of this Princeton study required a certain style that was "simple." Language distilled to the most basic elements of communication is still itself a way of expressing meaning, and its furthest reduction is the input/output of a computer program reading code. Code is language in its purest communicative form.

But if we simply wanted language as communication, why don't we speed this whole thing up and bring it to its logical conclusion by changing English into code instead? Texting and online chat has been a huge catalyst in pushing this transformation of language into pure communication.

The question must be asked: can people who both regularly text and realize what their texting is contributing to (that is, the whole process of the reduction of language into pure "code" communication) actually appreciate language as expression?

It seems to me that there is a dichotomy when these two aspects of language are pressed further and further. They have to exist in balance, not as ends but as principles, as a framework. The balance seems to be determined by factors like context and circumstances, audience, message, time, etc.

Thus, of course, people who are accustomed to seeing and using language as communication will be repelled by expressive language and an evocative style, such as the style intrinsic to liturgical form as it has organically evolved through the centuries in all of the rites. Just look at how the Blessed Mother is described, for example, in the Divine Liturgy of St. John Chrysostom: "... our most holy, most pure, most-blessed and glorious Lady, the Mother of God and ever-Virgin Mary...." All of this description would seem to the modern man useless and its inclusion incomprehensible. "OK," he might say, "It's nice that Mary is obviously revered with all these titles, but why can't we just say something like, 'Blessed Virgin Mary'," and if he's generous, he might add, "Mother of God."

This distaste for bigger, more complicated words also suggests to me that the default reaction of a person towards the Holy Mass, especially if it is in, say, Latin, would be one of utter boredom, confusion, and perhaps contempt. Everything about the Holy Mass—the words, the gestures, etc.—are expressive. Why the incense? Why not simply just quote Revelation and recall that our prayers rise like incense? Isn't that enough? Why face "East"? Why a quiet voice now and a loud voice then? Why bells? Why kneel? Why consubstantial (or rather consubstantialem Patri)?

And then we see that the Holy Ghost, as a soul becomes more sensitive to His inner movements and promptings, teaches a soul the sensitivity and reflexivity required to appreciate such things, not only intellectually, but affectively and effectively—with the heart and will. The Holy Ghost's groanings within us—aren't those a form of lingual expression that transcend our understanding? And yet prayer is still made on our behalf to the Father. This is a deeply mystical reality. Even the mystics say that they cannot say what they experience in contemplation. How can it be communicated or even expressed in human terms? But something meaning-full is still happening, something still directed and perfused by the Logos. 

But there can be a way to overemphasize language as expression. It is the rhetorical flourishes that serve to obscure and dilute a communication. It's the Baroque taken to its extreme, to the point that what is fundamental has been lost sight of for the lesser, smaller things.

Perhaps this is why holy preaching is the most effective preaching. I suspect that, no matter what people culturally believe about language as communication, expressive language is still so fundamentally human that it can't be avoided, and because of that fact, effective preaching from a Saint can pierce straight to the heart and will. As long as preaching isn't holy, there is the danger of speaking too tersely, speaking with a barren quality, or there is the danger of speaking too eloquently, with such abundance and redundance of flourishing that it must be questioned if the speaking is a matter of pride. But holy preaching will reach the right balance because the Holy Ghost, the breath of the Perfect Speaker (or perhaps Spoken?), is directing.

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Addendum:

Another thought struck me—as our society moves away from expressive language (to the extent that it can), our language has become increasingly banal and, paradoxically, full of superfluous interjections.

Example: "I just...like....um...want to...you know...go to the...thing...I don't know...."

It is as though we are trying to make up for the lack of expression by inserting filler words. The poet Taylor Mali was very observant on the effects of this rapid change in language:

Dr. Christine Mohrmann on Language as Expression

Under the influence of positivism [N.B.: a philosophical movement in the early 20th century that, among other things, sought to reduce all language to a pure form of communication as though we were computers feeding each other strips of data; the movement posited that language is merely for the purpose of communicating data; cf. George Orwell's "newspeak" in his Nineteen-Eighty Four for a good example of this "language"], people, especially people in non-professional circles, are still inclined to regard language as pure communication, as a utilitarian instrument, as a means of social intercourse, as language par excellence and as the only real linguistic phenomenon. Or, to put it another way: every linguistic form of expression is examined and judged according to its social utility and the ease with which it can be understood. The colloquial language is the language; the ideals of efficiency and intelligibility, the idea of language as communication, dominate the conception of language as a human phenomenon. People thus tend to forget that language as expression—which in many cases includes language as a literary tool—is certainly just as important a phenomenon, and plays a great role in many spheres in human life. In this latter case, i.e., language as a means of expression, it is not merely a question of the individual element, the personal style of the writer or poet. This phenomenon can also occur as a mode of expression based on a collective tradition. Linguistic form is then no longer chiefly and exclusively a medium of communication but rather the medium of expression of a group living according to a certain tradition. In such cases linguistic usage is often deliberately stylized, and there exist language and style forms, transmitted from generation to generation, in which people deliberately deviate from language as communication, as current in everyday life, in order to obtain a certain artistic, religious, or spiritual effect. Here we have the very opposite of the matter-of-fact development of languages as media of communication as they are so rapidly evolving in our times. This is probably the reason why the man of today, when confronted with the phenomenon of stylized languages as the traditional means of expression of a collectivity, languages not only accepted but maintained in use by countless generations, finds them incomprehensible, peculiar and, therefore, usually to be discarded. Thus we can understand too how the modern Christian, in the liturgical prayer texts, for example, longs first and foremost for intelligibility, clarity and lucidity; we understand also how it was possible for a translation of the Psalms to be made in our generation in which the mystery of the ancient prayer texts has been eliminated at all costs in favour [sic] of a lucidity and clarity dictated by a certain historical positivism [N.B.: the author is speaking of the Pius XII translation of the Psalms]. [...]

[Our concern is] the traditional, stylized use of linguistic elements which have little or no contact any longer with contemporary life, but which continue to survive in another, non-material connection. Whenever this phenomenon occurs in the field of literature, one usually speaks of stylized language. In connection with religion, one commonly speaks of sacral or hieratic languages. [...]

One of the artificial languages about which we know most and from which we can thus most easily gain an idea of the nature of this phenomenon is that of the Homeric poems. Homeric Greek, or rather the artificial language of the Greek epic, as we know it from the Homeric epics, from Hesiod and, in a more or less diluted form, from poetic inscriptions, was never a spoken language and never led an organic life in a civilized community. It is a combination of heterogeneous elements which together form the stylized instrument employed by the epic poets. It consists essentially of a great number of fixed expressions, word combinations, and turns of speech which must have had their origin in a long tradition of poetic oral improvisation, but which are also employed, with great virtuosity, by later poets who committed their works to writing. The epic vocabulary is a remarkable mixture of very early and later elements, of words and word forms taken from different Greek dialects. [...] This heterogeneous combination of various elements, which immediately sufficed to conjure up for the Greeks the world of the epic and which, as the consecrated language of narrative poetry, formed a structural unit, had a very long life. It not only provided the material for two of the greatest works in the history of world literature, but continued to be used for centuries as the language of epic poetry. Generation after generation of Greeks were brought up on it, and this explains its viability. Every generation took the trouble to steep itself in this artificial idiom, and in this way a great national artistic asset was preserved. As late as the fifth century A.D. a Christian poet, Nonnos of Panopolis in the Egyptian Thebaid, wrote a paraphrase of St. John's Gospel in Homeric Greek.

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Source: Christine Mohrmann, Liturgical Latin: Its Origins and Character (London: Burns & Oates, 1959), 7-11.