The text of the Mass for the Dead in the Old Roman Rite is one of the greatest compositions of the Middle Ages. It is a sustained, eloquent and impassioned plea for mercy on the souls of the departed, expressed in language of a richness and intensity unparalleled even in the old Roman liturgy. Some of the greatest composers have been inspired by it to compose some of their finest music, the best known versions today probably being those of Mozart, Verdi and Fauré (I seem to remember that Cherubini’s Requiem was also popular when I was young, though you don’t seem to hear it so often now). But it is equally effective in a plainsong setting (which is naturally more practical for liturgical purposes). Its suppression by the reformers of the post-Vatican II era was an act of vandalism comparable to the demolition of Chartres Cathedral or the obliteration of Michelangelo’s “Last Judgement”. Fortunately, however, a liturgical rite cannot be destroyed in the same way as a building or a painting, and the Old Requiem Rite is still celebrated in this country from time to time since every Catholic in England and Wales has the right to choose it for his or her funeral. Analysing it linguistically is rather like dissecting a Beethoven symphony into its individual notes, or a Duccio Madonna into its separate brush strokes, but to appreciate it fully you need to understand the Latin, and a linguistic analysis is the only way to achieve that.
Introit
This begins with the prayer which we all know and say frequently for the souls in Purgatory, “Give to them eternal rest, Lord, and let eternal light shine on them”. “Dona” is imperative (“donáre” means the same as “dare”). “Lúceat” is of course subjunctive, “may [it] shine”. There follows a verse from Psalm 64, which translates literally as “A hymn (i.e. of praise) is appropriate to Thee, O God, in Sion, and to Thee will be paid the vow in Jerusalem; hear my prayer, to Thee all flesh will come”. “Decet” is a peculiar impersonal verb, only found in the third person, meaning “it is fitting” or “it is appropriate”, and it is followed by the accusative, not the dative as in English (though we do have the expression “it becomes you”). “Reddétur” is the future passive of “réddere”, meaning literally “to give back”; it has the sense here of fulfilling a vow previously made. “Exáudi” is imperative, from “exaudíre”, which is stronger than “audíre”; it means to hear fully or completely (as we say colloquially, “hear me out”). It is a similar derivation to “emúnda”, which we met in the previous chapter.
Collect
This, though quite long, is in the form of a classic Roman collect (see the previous chapter). It is analysable as follows:
1. Deus,
2. cui próprium est miseréri semper et párcere,
3a. te súpplices exorámus pro
ánima fámuli tui (“fámulae tuae” for
a woman) N., quam hódie de hoc saeculo migráre
iussísti, ut non tradas eam in manus inimíci, neque
obliviscáris in finem, sed iúbeas
eam a sanctis ángelis súscipi et ad pátriam
paradísi perdúci;
3b. ut, quia in te sperávit et crédidit,
non paenas inférni sustíneat, sed gáudia aetérna possídeat.
4. Per Dóminum etc.
God is described as “[He] to whom it is appropriate to have mercy always and to pardon”. “Próprium” is a difficult word to translate; it means not only that it is God’s (and nobody else’s) prerogative to pardon, but also that the act of pardoning is natural to Him. There is a story that the poet Heine, when he was assured by a priest on his deathbed that God would forgive his sins, replied “Of course He will, that’s His job!” Although, put this way, it sounds like the height of impertinence, Heine’s reputed comment is not wholly at odds with the sentiment expressed in this Collect (I wonder whether he actually had it in mind, assuming of course that the story is not apocryphal).
“Exorámus” is an intensive form of “orámus” (just as “exaúdi”, in the Introit, is an intensive form of “audi”). God is said to have commanded (“iussísti”) the soul of His servant for whom we pray, mentioned by his or her Christian name, “to depart from this world today” (this Collect is used on the day of death as well as on that of burial). He is asked not to give it into the hands of the enemy, nor to forget it for ever (“ut non tradas eam in manus inimíci, neque obliviscáris in finem”), but to command (“iúbeas”) that it be received by holy angels and brought to the fatherland (“pátriam”) of Paradise. Note that “eam” is feminine, because, although the Latin for “servant” has masculine and feminine forms, the word for soul, “ánima” is always feminine, whatever the gender of the body which it inhabits. We, of course, translate “eam” as “it”, but the Latin says “her”. The prayer concludes with the purpose of our request, “that because he [or she] hoped and believed in Thee, he [or she] may not suffer the pains of hell, but may possess everlasting joys”.
Gradual and Tract
The beginning of the Gradual repeats that of the Introit, continuing with a verse from Psalm 111. “Erit” and “timébit” are futures, “the just man will be (i.e. remain) in eternal memory, he will not fear [anything] from evil gossip”. The Tract is a prayer that the souls of the dead may be freed from the bondage of sin. “Absólve” is imperative, its object is “ánimas”, and “ómnium fidélium defunctórum” are of course all genitives, “release the souls of all the faithful departed”, “ab omni vínculo delictórum”, “from all bondage of sins”. “Delícta” is a rather poetic word for the more prosaic, and much more common, “peccáta”. “Grátia tua illis succurénte” is an ablative absolute of the present participle, literally “Thy grace coming to their support”, with the help of which “mereántur evádere iudícium ultiónis et lucis aetérni beatúdine pérfrui”, “they may deserve to escape the judgement of vengeance and enjoy the blessedness of eternal light”. There are two deponent verbs in this passage, “mereántur” (subjunctive) from “meréri”, and “pérfrui” (infinitive); the latter is followed in Latin by an object (“beatúdine”) in the ablative, not the accusative, case.
The Dies Irae
The sequence for the Mass of the Dead has been described as the greatest hymn and one of the greatest poems ever written. Its evocation of the terror and dread of the Last Judgement, and the pathos and eloquence of its pleas for mercy through the merits of Christ’s suffering and death, are unparalleled in literature, and matched in art only by Michelangelo’s Sistine Chapel fresco. Unlike the latter, however, its author is unknown. It has attracted many attempts at translation, few if any of which have done it full justice, though Macaulay (at the age of twenty-four) produced a very creditable English version. He also remarked that the line “Quaerens me sedísti lassus” was the saddest line of poetry he had ever read (and he had read not only all the works of the major English poets but most of what survives of Classical Latin and Greek poetry also). Unfortunately the length of the Dies Irae and the number of unfamiliar words occurring in it makes it impractical to consider it here. Grammatically however it is fairly uncomplicated and if you have a Latin dictionary, or can get one from a friend or a library, you will find that it well repays the effort of working through it.
Offertory
The Offertory of the Mass is unusual not simply because of its length but also because it is not derived from any scriptural source, but is a remarkable piece of free composition. Like the Dies Irae, its author is unknown, and again like the Dies Irae, it contains an extraordinary wealth of metaphor. Christ, addressed as “rex glóriae”, is asked to free the souls of all the faithful departed “de paenis inférni et de profúndo lacu” and “de ore leónis” (“from the pains of hell and from the deep lake”, and “from the mouth of the lion”). There follow two negative imperatives (ne with the subjunctive, as I am sure you will remember); “ne absórbeat eas Tártarus, ne cadant in obscúrum” (“let not Tartarus” [a poetic name for Hell] “swallow them, let them not fall into the darkness”). “But may the standard bearer Saint Michael introduce them into the holy light, which once Thou didst promise to Abraham and to his seed”. “Repraeséntet” (subjunctive, of course), which I have translated as “introduce”, is the word from which we get our word “represent”; the idea is that Saint Michael acts as a sort of advocate at the judgement seat for the souls of the just. “Quam” is feminine, agreeing with “lucem”. “Olim” is the regular word for something which happened a long time ago, “once upon a time”, so to speak. “Sémini” is from “semen”, literally meaning the seed of a plant, here used metaphorically, as it is in English also, for “descendants”, in this case of course spiritual rather than physical.
“Tu súscipe” in the next section is stronger than the simple imperative “súscipe”; “do Thou receive [them]” (i.e. the “sacrifices and prayers of praise” which “we offer to Thee”) “ on behalf of those souls, whose memory we are keeping” (literally “making”) “today”. “Quarum” (“whose”) is the genitive plural feminine of the relative pronoun, since, as explained earlier, the word “ánima” is feminine. You will recognise from the “-mus” ending that “fácimus” is the first person plural of “fácere”. “Fac” in the next sentence is the irregular imperative of the same verb, “make them, Lord, cross over from death to life”. This unique and splendid offertory then closes quietly with a repetition of “quam olim Ábrahae promisísti, et sémini eius”. This time round “quam” agrees with “vitam”, which like “lucem” is feminine, thus enabling the author subtly to link the two sections together without changing the gender of the relative pronoun.
Secret
Unusually for a Secret Prayer (but consistent with the Collect and Postcommunion of the Mass), this is quite long. It takes the form of a prayer that the merits of the present sacrifice may avail the deceased in the next life. It begins “Propitiáre”, which is the imperative of one of our old friends, the deponent verbs, and means in this context the same as “miserére”. The Lord is asked to have mercy on “the soul of Thy servant, for whom we offer to Thee the sacrifice of praise, humbly beseeching Thy majesty”. “Deprecántes” is, of course, a present participle. Our request follows; “that, through these propitiatory offerings of our devotion he (or she) may deserve to come to eternal life”. “Per haec piae placatiónis offícia” is a tough nut to translate; literally it means “through these services of dutiful propitiation”, which in English is inelegant to the point of unintelligibility. It is a variation on the phrase “ per haec pia devotiónis offícia”, which we met in the last chapter in the Secret for the fifth Sunday after Easter, though in that case “pia” was accusative, agreeing with “offícia”, rather than the genitive “piae”, agreeing with “placatiónis”. “Perveníre” is a more intense form of “veníre”, meaning literally “come through” (in this context “win through” would almost be a suitable translation).
Preface
This beautiful preface dates only from the early part of the twentieth century. Previously the common preface had been used in Masses for the Dead. What this demonstrates is that liturgical reform in itself can be beneficial, provided it enriches the liturgy rather than impoverishing it. The preface begins, after the usual opening, “In quo” (i.e. in Christ) “ spes beátae resurrectiónis effúlsit”. “Effúlsit” is a compound verb, from “ex” and “fulsit”, meaning “has shone out”; you will, I am sure, recall, from the Christmas Preface, “nova mentis nostrae óculis lux tuae claritátis infúlsit”, where “infúlsit” means “has shone into”. “Moriéndi” you will recognise as a verbal noun (gerund), from the “-nd-” in the middle, “so that those whom (“quos”) the certain condition of dying makes sad, the same (“eósdem”) the promise of future immortality will comfort”. We should be glad, not saddened, at the thought of our death; “because for Thy faithful, Lord, life is changed, not taken away”. The next phrase is an ablative absolute of the past participle passive of “dissólvere”; the words “terréstris huius incolátus” are all genitives, qualifying “domo” (“house”). Literally, “and the house of this earthly habitation having been dissolved” (a poetic way of describing the decomposition of our bodies), “an everlasting dwelling in the heavens is made ready”. As we have seen on many previous occasions, the adjectival phrases “terréstris huius incolátus” and “in caelis” come before the nouns which they qualify, literally “the of-this-earthly-habitation house” and “an everlasting in-the-heavens dwelling” respectively.
Agnus Dei
In the Old Rite this has a special ending; instead of “miserére nobis” and “dona nobis pacem” we have “dona eis réquiem” and “dona eis réquiem sempitérnam”. The liturgical reformers, for no very obvious reason, suppressed this and replaced it with the text used on other occasions, thus turning it from a prayer for the dead into a prayer for the living.
Communion
Simple and beautiful, too simple in fact to require any detailed analysis. “May eternal light shine upon them, Lord, with Thy saints for ever, because Thou art pius”. The last word has no real English equivalent (it does not mean “pious”!). Someone who is “pius” is someone who punctiliously observes all his obligations and scrupulously keeps all his promises. It occurs in the last verse of the Dies Irae, “Pie Jesu Dómine, dona eis réquiem”, and, as a noun, in the prayer which the priest says in preparation for his Communion, “pro tua pietáte”. Its nearest English equivalent, I suppose, is “conscientious”, but this is a word which is appropriate only to human beings, not to God, whereas “pius” can be applied to either. We have already come across it in the Secret, in the expressions “ per haec pia devotiónis offícia”, and “per haec piae placatiónis offícia”, where it refers to the services which we render to God in fulfilment of our obligations. What is meant when we apply it here to God is that we can trust Him absolutely to fulfil His promise to grant us eternal life (always assuming we do our part, of course).
A friend of mine who had recently attended an Old Rite Requiem for the first time in many years told me that he had forgotten how gloomy and depressing it was. He had obviously not paid much attention either to the Preface or to the Communion, to say nothing of the scriptural readings!
Postcommunion
This takes the form of a prayer that the fruits of the sacrifice will be applied to the forgiveness of any sins committed by the deceased. It is fairly simple in form: “Grant, we beseech Thee, Almighty God, that the soul of Thy servant N., which today has departed from this world, purged by these offerings, and released from [his or her] sins, may obtain equally pardon and eternal rest”. “Migrávit” is the third person singular of the perfect (i.e. past) tense of “migráre”, the word from which we get the English “migrate”. “Purgáta” and “expedíta” (“purged” and “released”) are past participles passive, both feminine to agree with “ánima”, as previously explained. “Páriter” is an adverb meaning “likewise” or “equally” and is of course the word from which we derive “parity”.
The Absolution
This begins with an opening prayer by the celebrant, clad in a black cope. The prayer acknowledges that without the forgiveness of our sins, freely granted by God, we cannot earn salvation, and begs that God’s grace will save the deceased person from what would otherwise be the inevitable consequence of sin. “Non intres in iudícium cum servo tuo, Dómine, quia nullus apud te iustificábitur homo, nisi per te ómnium peccatórum ei tribuátur remíssio” (“Do not enter into judgment with Thy servant, Lord, because in Thy sight no man will be justified, unless through Thee the remission of all [his] sins be granted to him”). “Non intres” is a stylistic quirk; as we have seen before, in the section on the Pater Noster, as a negative imperative it should really be either “ne intres” or “noli intráre”. I have rendered “apud te” as “in Thy sight”, because, as we saw when considering the opening passage of St. John’s Gospel, the word “apud” does not have a literal translation in English. The next sentence is rather long; the English word order would be “Ergo tua iudiciális senténtia non premat eum, quem vera supplicátio christiánae fídei comméndat tibi, sed, tua grátia succurrénte illi, mereátur evádere iudícium ultiónis, qui, dum víveret, est insignítus signáculo sanctae Trinitátis” (“Therefore let Thy judicial sentence not press [heavily upon] him, whom the true entreaty of Christian faith commends to Thee, but, [by] Thy grace supporting him, may he deserve to avoid the judgement of wrath, who, while he was living, was signed with the mark of the Holy Trinity”. We have met the phrases “grátia tua illi succurrénte” and “mereátur evádere iudícium ultiónis” before, in the Tract of the Mass, although there the persons were in the plural (“illis” and “mereántur”). “Signáculo” is the ablative of “signáculum”, a rather rare word for the more common “signum”. You will remember I am sure that the dead are described in the Canon of the Mass as those “qui nos praecessérunt cum signo fídei”.
After the opening prayer the choir sings the chant commencing “Líbera me, Dómine”, which comes second only to the Dies irae in its evocation of the terrors of the Last Judgement. “Deliver me, O Lord, in that fearful (“treménda”) day, when the heavens and the earth will be shaken, when Thou shalt come to judge the ages by fire”. “Treménda” is of course the word from which we get our word “tremendous”, but the meaning in Latin is rather different. It is a gerundive, from the verb “trémere”, meaning “to tremble”, and means something at which it is appropriate to quake with fear, in this case the arrival of the Day of Judgement. We might have expected “when the heavens and the earth will be shaken” to be rendered in Latin as “quando caeli et terra movebúntur”, the last word being the straightforward future passive tense. Instead, the author has chosen to use the present tense of the verb “to be” (“sunt”) and another gerundive (“movéndi”), for the sake of effect, particularly following “treménda” in the previous clause. “Véneris” is future perfect (“Thou shalt have come”), but this tense has virtually disappeared in English; we use either the future or, colloquially, the present (“when you come”) in this context. The chant continues, “I tremble and fear, while the reckoning approaches and the wrath to come”. Prosaically “I tremble and fear” would be “tremo et tímeo”, but instead of “tremo” we have the much more dramatic “tremens factus sum ego”, literally “I have become a trembler”; the image is one of increasing terror while we contemplate the fate which may befall us on the dreadful day. The tension builds up to its climax in the next sentence, “Dies illa, dies irae, calámitatis et misériae, dies magna et amára valde, dum véneris iudicáre sáeculum per ignem” (“That day, the day of wrath, of calamity and desolation, the great day, and bitter indeed, when Thou shalt come to judge the ages by fire”). Then, as we cower in terror at the thought of what lies in store for us, comes the familiar plea “Réquiem aetérnam dona eis, Dómine, et lux perpétua lúceat eis”, and the chant closes with a repeat of the first part.
After the Pater Noster, during which the coffin is sprinkled with holy water and incensed, the Collect of the Mass (“Deus, qui próprium est miseréri”) is repeated, and the body is carried out to the singing of the beautiful antiphon “In Paradísum dedúcant te ángeli”. The terrors and horrors of the Last Judgement have suddenly vanished; let those who, in their own pride and folly, have rejected the saving grace flowing from the Cross, continue to reflect upon them. Instead we are given a wonderfully consoling picture of the welcome by the assembled company of Heaven which awaits the just. It is addressed, uniquely, not to God but to the dead man or woman. “May the angels lead thee into Paradise, in thy coming may the martyrs receive thee, and may they lead thee into the holy city of Jerusalem. May the chorus of angels receive thee, and with Lazarus, formerly poor, mayst thou have eternal rest”. All the verbs, “dedúcant”, “suscípiant” (plural), “suscípiat” (singular), “perdúcant” and “hábeas” are naturally in the subjunctive, expressing our pious wishes. The difference between “dedúcant” and “perdúcant” is really just one of style; in this context they both mean virtually the same thing. “Quondam” is an adverb, meaning “formerly“ or “in the past”; having been received into Paradise, Lazarus is poor no more. The normal place for the verb “hábeas” would be at the end of the sentence, but here the word order is varied to throw the emphasis on the word “réquiem”, even to the extent of separating the adjective “aetérnam” from the noun which it qualifies. The salvation of one soul, whatever his or her status on earth, is an occasion for rejoicing by the whole company of Heaven. Gloomy? Depressing? Hardly!
Appendix
For some obscure reason many missals do not contain the texts of the Absolution following the Requiem Mass. In case your missal is one of those which do not have these texts I give them in full below.
Non intres in iudício cum servo tuo, Dómine, quia nullus apud te iustificábitur homo, nisi per te ómnium peccatórum ei tribuátur remíssio. Non ergo eum, quaésumus, tua iudiciális senténtia premat, quem tibi vera supplicátio fídei christiánae comméndat; sed, grátia tua illi succurrénte, mereátur evádere iudícium ultiónis, qui dum víveret, insignítus est signáculo sanctae Trinitátis. Qui vivis et regnas in saécula saeculórum. Amen.
Líbera me, Dómine, de morte aetérna, in die illa treménda, quando caeli movéndi sunt et terra, dum véneris iudicáre saéculum per ignem. Tremens factus sum ego, et tímeo, dum discússio vénerit, atque ventúra ira; quando caeli movéndi sunt et terra. Dies illa, dies irae, calamitátis et misériae, dies magna et amára valde, dum véneris iudicáre saéculum per ignem. Réquiem aetérnam dona eis, Dómine, et lux perpétua lúceat eis. Líbera me, Dómine, de morte aetérna, in die illa treménda, quando caeli movéndi sunt et terra, dum véneris iudicáre saéculum per ignem.
In Paradísum dedúcant te ángeli, in tuo advéntu suscípiant te mártyres, et perdúcant te in civitátem sanctam Jerúsalem. Chorus angelórum te sucípiat, et cum Lázaro quondam paúpero aetérnam hábeas réquiem.