I had often heard the phrase “full and active participation in the Mass” and, at first blush, this “Extraordinary Form of the Mass” seemed to be the opposite: the priest and altar boy (and I do mean boy) seemed to be having a very private dialogue, and on the few occasions when the priest turned to face the congregation, his eyes were lowered ever-so slightly so he wasn’t even really looking at us.
But at some point at that Mass I had an epiphany that may seem a bit obvious: whoever said that “full and active participation” in the Mass means singing loudly (and often badly)? Or that shaking hands at the “kiss-of-peace” (a gesture that no priest shares with another minister: they kiss on the cheek or somewhat hug) makes some kind of sense? Or dozens of people drinking from the same chalice— a practice that I’d forgone since undergoing radiation treatments in 2003 when my immune system was worse than a stray kitten’s—was a manifestation of “full and active participation” at Holy Mass?
. . .
What was going on was an “active contemplation”: I was very much a neophyte that night, but the twenty or so souls around me were edifying to see: the women wore mantillas, the men even had on neckties. There was no musical fillip, no “Let’s-try-to-sing-Holy-God-We-Praise-Thy-Name-acapella”. Just … silence. And still more silence. A pure, nearly unbroken sacred quiet.
Read more at the National Catholic Register.