Post-conciliar traditionalism: Roots and progress

This is the seventh in a series of articles exploring the gift and promise of Vatican II’s liturgical reforms.
Up to this point, this ongoing series of articles has aimed to support the changes brought about by Vatican II. As I’ve conveyed in discussions with numerous communicators who have reached out to me via email, I consider it sociologically simplistic to view post-conciliar reform as the origin of such a broad array of issues in pastoral life, many of which (including the sexual abuse crisis) were already evident within the Church.
Nevertheless, it’s important to discuss the reasons behind the allure of the pre-conciliar rites — particularly in the United States. Much of the discourse surrounding traditionalism in the liturgy appears to interpret it as a repudiation of the Second Vatican Council, a conservative political trend that aims to revert to the golden days of the 1950s. Even Pope Francis frequently communicates the appeal of the Latin Mass in this manner.
These traditionalists are real. They are notable on Twitter (and, generally speaking, they are not fond of me).
However, that’s only part of the picture. In order to progress beyond disputes regarding the liturgy, we must grasp the broader cultural narrative.
A sense of belonging
I would like us to consider together the concepts of origins and advancement.
Humans require roots — in other words, we seek to link our individual narratives to a broader narrative.
What made me feel so touched during my initial trip to Ireland in 2002? Indeed, I am Timothy Patrick O’Malley. Indeed, I have been commemorating St. Patrick’s Day since I was a young boy.
But I’m not really from Ireland. Not in the way of a true Irish individual, who originates from Cork or Dublin. My ancestors at one point departed Ireland for the United States. I am unaware of the tale that brought this about, but when I reached Ireland, I sensed that I was home. These were my origins.
Why is it important to consider my roots? Roots are essential to understanding and connection. I am not isolated, a lone individual separate from everyone else. I am part of a heritage that helps me comprehend my existence.
Without my roots, I have no place. Migration is distressing as I am torn from my origins, my narrative, and must find my place in a different one.
Currently, the challenge of contemporary times is that we have overlooked our need for foundations. A sense of stability was substituted with an illusion of advancement. We could abandon all that preceded us, starting afresh.
It embodies the illusion of spatial movement. As individuals, we do not require a sense of belonging to a location since we lack a connection to a specific place.
It is the illusion of technology suggesting that we are just one breakthrough away from complete happiness.
It is a misconception that suggests every bit of knowledge handed down to us by our ancestors must be dismissed if we are to establish our own identity.
Now, picture being raised in this manner.
Initially, you may feel an intense feeling of disconnection or rootlessness — as if you have no place to call home, navigating your own path without the support of prior experiences. Indeed, in the beginning, the liberation would have been exhilarating. However, over time, that kind of freedom can become monotonous.
Secondly, you would probably feel let down by this illusion of advancement. Globalization assures joy until the economy collapses. Greater availability of higher education offers liberation, yet it results in financial burdens. The illusion of technological rescue never materializes, and indeed, the same platforms that guaranteed limitless opportunities for connection and community leave you feeling isolated.
Now, picture that you acknowledged this feeling of estrangement and dislocation. Envision that you realized a particular myth of advancement had rendered you without roots.
You may discover your way back to your origins. To tradition(s). You would do this intentionally, not out of obligation. But because you uncovered in numerous overlooked traditions a means of perceiving both significance and connection. You reclaimed the tradition as a method of creating meaning in your life.
Seeking the truth
What relevance does any of this hold for those who are keen on the pre-conciliar liturgy? Having been born in 1982, I joined the Roman Catholic Church just 13 years following the introduction of the Missal of Paul VI — commonly referred to as the novus ordo.
During my spiritual education, I learned that this “new” Mass succeeded the outdated liturgy from my grandparents’ era. In my religious training, I was taught that Vatican II set aside traditional devotions such as the Stations of the Cross and Benediction of the Blessed Sacrament.
During my time in graduate school, I discovered that the early Church conducted the liturgy correctly; however, medieval superstition and an overabundance of clericalism caused significant distortions that Vatican II ultimately removed.
Eventually, I became wary of the information I was receiving. I continued to appreciate the “new” Mass, yet I experienced an Extraordinary Form liturgy and did not find it unpleasant. I encountered cherished friends who discovered it remarkably beneficial to their journey in Christ. I started to engage in numerous devotional practices I was informed were abandoned and acknowledged what had been forfeited. I explored extensively in medieval studies and realized that the narrative of decline was inadequately responsive to historical evidence.
Above all, I acknowledged the peril of inflexible traditionalism and progressivism as well. Both hindered the unrestricted pursuit of understanding, of crafting an identity in accordance with the enigma of Jesus Christ.
Not all aspects of history are excellent.
Not all remnants of the past ought to be discarded.
Each period of the Church, led by the Spirit, provides insights for the (post)modern believer seeking to understand what it signifies to be a Catholic in this environment.
Therefore, if you genuinely wish to understand the current interest in the Latin Mass within the United States, it is important to acknowledge that this phenomenon is largely disconnected from the liturgy itself. For numerous individuals, it does not signify a disapproval of Pope Francis — nor of Vatican II, for that matter.
It serves as a dismissal of a myth of advancement wherein all (with the exception of early Christianity) needs to be abandoned as a “new Church” emerges.
Discovering what consecrates
Currently, it poses a danger as such “traditionalism” can readily harden, transforming into a sentimental activity aimed at evading the current responsibilities of Catholicism in 2022. We cannot replicate 1950, 1850, or 1350. We exist in our era.

However, progressivism can also become rigid. It often views anything deemed “old” or “ancient” as having no value. Nevertheless, in a digital era, where our recollection is amplified by the capabilities of the internet (you can watch a Latin Mass today on YouTube or easily discover the significance of rogation days on your smartphone), individuals now have fresh access to the insights of tradition(s).
Instead of persisting in disputes over the liturgy, which has become tedious for a younger demographic that will follow their own path, I hope we can begin to examine the underlying reason(s) behind practices such as the Latin Mass. It’s simple to stereotype every Latin Mass attendee as a divisive primitive. It’s also easy to attribute the entire crisis to the post-Vatican II, iconoclastic priests who eliminated all forms of devotion and visual representation.
It’s more challenging to thoroughly consider the foundation of issues. And that might, ironically, be the sole method through which we advance in accepting the genuine insight of Vatican II’s purpose to sanctify every nook and cranny of the world, restoring all things in Christ.
Timothy P. O’Malley, Ph.D., is the director of education at the McGrath Institute for Church Life at the University of Notre Dame.