As I suspected would be the case the ordinary folks in the pews saw all of this as much less dramatic and onerous than some seemed to want it to be; despite the hand-wringing and drama queening from some quarters (why assume that people are incapable of adapting and re-learning? We do it all the time!) it all went pretty smoothly at my parish, and everyone else I’ve polled, in various states, has said the same thing: we all had our little booklets, and we all screwed up here or there, but for the most part, it was fine. I didn’t notice anyone having distinct trouble or reacting negatively to the new texts.
And yes, I flubbed. I said “and with your spirit” mostly, but “and also with you” once, when I got distracted.
But I like saying it. I like finally being unified with the prayers of the rest of the Catholic world, who have all been saying “and with your spirit” all these years; more importantly, I like what it conveys.
I know a priest who has, for decades, interrupted the mass — over and over again — to say “thank you” each time the congregation said “and also with you.” He horizontal-ed the mass until it screamed for a little vertical! I wonder if he’ll still say “thank you” with each “and with your spirit.”
Since I had rather spontaneously reverted to the 1965 translation of a few of the prayers a while back, I was surprised at myself when I blew the “Lord I am not worthy.” I guess I’d been feeling cocky, or something. That’ll teach me!
Musically, we have adapted pretty well; after a few grouchy weeks of people trying to decide if they liked the new settings, yesterday they sang out, and I think the newness of it all — and the escape from the plodding stuff we’ve been singing for at least a decade — seemed to bring vigor to our voices.
UPDATE: Tim Muldoon with a great piece about why liturgy matters, and why it ought not be beige
. . . liturgy connects us to a history of people reflecting on the meaning of Jesus’ life and work. It challenges us to see the world as the place where God’s kingdom is unfolding right now, but which summons us from our slumber to help make it happen. It draws us to the deep truths of ourselves as individuals before God and as a community of people practicing faith together, even when it’s hard. It slices open our hearts and lays bare the searing demands of love. It reminds us of our better selves by showing us a mirror in which we are both plaintiff and defendant charged with sin, but set free by a Christ who goes to the gallows in our place.
Buster being home for Thanksgiving, I shared this video with him, and he was quite taken with the richness and imagery of the newer translations: