Why the choice of the pre-1955 Holy Week is not a disobedience
One of the most debated topics among sedevacantists is the rite of the Holy Week. There are two positions that each have a great number of defenders, among priests and clerical groups, sometimes giving rise to heated arguments.
The first position consists in using the Holy Week rite reformed under Pius XII, following the idea that we must obey all the laws in force in the Church at the moment of the death of the last Pope.
The second position consists in using the rite which was in force immediately before, that we sometimes call the “Saint Pius X Holy Week” or pre-1955, because of some issues present in the reformed rite (without however saying that the rite is bad, because it was promulgated by the Church).
People of the first position often have very harsh words towards the second position: arbitrary and whimsical preference, spirit of pride, grave sin of disobedience, schism. They usually refuse to hear any argument about the issues of the reformed rite, arguing that “no one can discuss” the laws and orders coming from the Church.
We hope here to defend the validity of the second position.
For people who want to hear more about the nature of the reform and have a more precise idea of the issues, we strongly recommend reading the Fr. Rioult book. This article will not cover them in detail, but rather try to answer this question which is at the heart of the debate: is the choice of the pre-1955 Holy Week a disobedience to Pius XII and the Holy Catholic Church? For this purpose, we will review some points or problems that are too often neglected or quickly dismissed by adversaries of the position.
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SUMMARY
1- The law in the absence of the legislator
2- Historical hindsight about the intentions of the reform
3- The current context
4- Letter of the law and intention of the legislator
5- An incorrect idea of obedience
6- Conclusion
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Problem #1: absence of the legislator
For one to disobey Pius XII, it would be necessary that Pius XII be alive. It is incorrect to present the problem as if it was exactly identical as a situation in which the ruling Pope imposes a rite, and some priests choose to refuse this rite arguing that it contains such and such problem. This would be, indeed, an inadmissible disobedience.
The absence of a ruling Pope fundamentally changes the nature of the problem. The presence of the legislator allows some discussions and arrangements with regard to the law: whoever has the slightest knowledge of Canon Law, or any kind of human law, knows that anything which does not proceed directly from natural law or divine law is open for dispense, can be reformed and is applied differently depending on the circumstances. Too many Catholics have an incorrect idea of Canon Law: they see it as a kind of absolute divine law that automatically punishes whoever deviates ever so slightly from it. It is not.
Some discussions and arrangements already occurred at the time of the promulgation of the reform, according to historical testimonies. Some prominent liturgists such as Msgr. Gromier openly criticized the reform. John XXIII himself used the pre-1955 rite. Thus, it appears that even before the promulgation of the Novus Ordo by Paul VI, some Catholics noticed the problems of the reformed rite and were probably willing to discuss with the Pope about amending the new law.
The question of knowing whether or not it is prudent to dispense oneself of a law, in the absence of a legislator who could legally grant the dispensation, can have different answers depending on the context and depending on one’s judgment. But it is certain that in principle, the mere choice of not following a law in the absence of the legislator is not in all cases a disobedience and an arbitrary whim. It all depends on the context and the seriousness of the reasons which would cause, in normal times, one to ask for a dispensation, or that would cause the letter of the law to become dangerous.
Problem #2: historical hindsight about the intentions of the reform
There is no doubt now that the intention of the reformers (those who built the reform, not Pius XII himself who only ratified the work of the reformers, who were hiding their true intentions) was to prepare the liturgical revolution that occurred under Paul VI. This was openly admitted by the very people who tailored the new rite of the Holy Week[1]. It was not obvious at the time, because very few knew the ideas of the reformer well enough to connect them to the errors of the “liturgical movement”[2]. But these reformers, proud of their achievements, explained it to the next generations, after the triumph of their ideas at Vatican II.
This also dramatically changes the nature of the problem. Back then Pope Pius XII did not realize, nor did most Catholics, how twisted were the intentions of the reformers, and what were the hidden meanings of some additions, omissions and modifications compared to the rite of St. Pius X. Now that we know that, it is impossible to look at the 1955 Holy Week in the same way; the connection with the “new mass” is obvious.
If we think that this new rite of the mass poses a serious problem to the conscience of Catholics, then it is logical to ask if it makes sense to follow the reformed Holy Week, now that we are aware of its close connection with the Novus Ordo Mass. Those who want to deny this connection cannot do it in good faith: one must at least admit that the connection is real, and then argue about how in spite of this connection, it is fairer and wiser to keep following this law promulgated by a true Pope (and there are potentially valid arguments in that sense). But it cannot reasonably be argued that the intention of the reform had no connection whatsoever with modernism.
To notice that is not to negate the infallible protection which covers the laws of the Church. The 1955 Holy Week is not bad in itself. However:
- The laws and rites of the Church are not all equally perfect. They can be more or less good, and nothing guarantees that the Popes always make the best choices in that regard.
- All laws, including the one of the Church, considered only in their letter, can be good per se but become problematic per accidens in some circumstances: in such cases, epikeia has to apply, as we will discuss later.
Problem #3: the current context
Human laws depend on a certain context for their application. Often, a law is issued in order to address a specific problem, and becomes more or less inadequate when the context changes. About the reformed rite of the Holy Week, the argument of those who follow the old rite consists among other things in saying that the context has changed significantly enough for the law to become inadequate. Here is what has changed in the context:
- We know the hidden intentions of the reformers, the intimate meaning of the reform.
- We have under our eyes the scandals of the new liturgy (for which the 1955 Holy Week was a preparation, subtler and less dangerous that the new rite in itself, a preparation nonetheless).
- The Catholic priests have a special duty, for the glory of God and the salvation of souls, to fight against modernism and liberalism in all of its forms, it is one of the most important things they have to do in order to protect the faithful against the spirit of the world and ultimately against their own damnation.
We also know, which may be considered of lesser relevance, that Pope Pius XII was severely ill at the time when the reform was promulgated, and that the Modernists surrounding him took advantage of his weakness in order to obtain his approval, as explained by Bugnini in his memoirs. It is hard to assume, in such circumstances, that Pius XII inspected in great detail the content of the reforms; it was notably Cardinal Agostino Bea, confessor of Pius XII and secretly Modernist, who took advantage of the trust that the venerable Pope had placed in him.
Problem #1 (absence of the legislator) combined with Problem #3 (current context) leads to the prudential choice of following the rite in force before the reform, in order not to contract the slightest association with Modernism, association which was not manifest at the time when the law was promulgated, but which clearly is in the current context.
It would be better, ideally, not to rely on these kinds of private judgements in order to follow or not a given law: law is not supposed to function this way, people are not supposed to constantly argue whether or not they want to apply such and such law. But we are not in an ideal situation. We are in a situation of catastrophic crisis: as such, these kinds of choices have to take place every day, for those who try their best to pursue the mission of the Church, in the absence of formal jurisdictional authority in the Church.
Problem #4: letter of the law and intention of the legislator
There are numerous circumstances in which it is good not to apply the letter of the law, in order to respect the spirit of the law. Although this can be difficult to manage correctly, it has nothing to do with an arbitrary choice not to apply the law in case it slightly annoys us, in order to put forward a personal preference. It is about preferring to the letter of the law a higher imperative (justice, common good) when, in some specific cases that were not properly foreseen by the legislator, the letter goes against these imperatives. The virtue which regulates this activity is called epikeia.
Some Catholics have a false idea of epikeia, limiting it only to “emergency cases” or “absolute necessity”. They consequently pretend that the exercising of epikeia is only limited to a few rare situations, and that the choice of the rite of the Holy Week does not enter the realm of epikeia (given that the reformed Holy Week is a rite of the Church, it cannot be bad; if we are only discussing about degrees of perfection, epikeia cannot apply because there is no necessity). The true definition of epikeia is much broader: also called “equity”, it is a virtue which cancels the literal observance of a law when its application in a specific case would be harmful or too costly, in the respect of the intention of the legislator. The practice of this virtue is not specifically tied to dramatic or extraordinary circumstances: it is rather a virtue of common usage, because the law never foresees all the specific cases and all the contexts.
Saint Thomas explains:
“since human actions, with which laws are concerned, are composed of contingent singulars and are innumerable in their diversity, it was not possible to lay down rules of law that would apply to every single case. Legislators in framing laws attend to what commonly happens: although if the law be applied to certain cases it will frustrate the equality of justice and be injurious to the common good, which the law has in view. […] In these and like cases it is bad to follow the law, and it is good to set aside the letter of the law and to follow the dictates of justice and the common good. This is the object of "epikeia" which we call equity.” (Summa IIa IIae, q. 120)
Also, Saint Alphonsus Liguori:
“Epikeia is an exception in cases or circumstances when we judge with certitude or with the greatest probability that the legislator was in ignorance of this case falling under the law” (Theologia moralis, Lib. I Tract. II, III de Epikeia Legis).
Following the doctrine of Saint Alphonsus, it is virtuous not to apply a law, if we judge “with certitude or with the greatest probability that the legislator was in ignorance of this case falling under the law”: in other words, and applied to our context, it is a valid reasoning not to apply the law (the 1955 Holy Week) given the ignorance of the legislator (Pius XII) over the current case (we live in a time when the liturgical and doctrinal revolution of Vatican II happened, and we also have reliable historical information about the true nature of the reforms). The intention of the legislator is not that we follow at all cost a rite which happens to be, in the current context, reminiscent of bad things.
It is deplorable to see numerous Catholics consider the practice of epikeia as a sign of “satanic insubordination.” A serious Catholic should be able to distinguish between a prudent withdrawal from the letter of the law, and a whim which proceeds from pride. The example of the Pharisees shows that, contrary to appearances, there can be more pride in those who call in all circumstances to the literal observance of the law, than in those who discern, through common sense, some cases in which the law has not to be applied. “Which of you shall have an ass or an ox fall into a pit, and will not immediately draw him out, on the sabbath day?” (Luke 14, 5). This is not to say that people who call for following the 1955 Holy Week do it out of pride for their own lawfulness: I only emphasize the fact that, according to Our Lord himself, there are circumstances in which it makes no sense to apply the law, and obsession over literal obedience to the law is not at all the best safeguard for virtue.
Problem #5: an incorrect idea of obedience
Many Catholics, often with the best intention, have a simplistic and excessive idea of obedience. They think one has to accept blindly, without the slightest reservation, any order coming from authority, and that trying to discuss or arrange such orders would be the sign of a prideful spirit, on the path to perdition. These “ultra-obedient” Catholics tend to see in human laws, which come from authority, something that demands the most absolute and scrupulous observance, something with which one could never compromise under pain of sin.
This is not the Catholic idea of obedience. Indeed, the object of obedience is first and foremost the purpose of the law, rather than the letter of the law: otherwise, epikeia would not be a virtue, because it aims at seeking the purpose of the law in circumstances where the letter is inopportune or harmful. It is legitimate, in all circumstances, to ask oneself if the orders of human superiors are in accordance with truth and virtue, and to ask oneself whether they should be applied literally in such and such context.
Catholic perfection does not consist in following blindly all laws, without any thought: even in religious life, which is specifically based on obedience, the religious can respectfully ask his superiors for some arrangements or modifications in the orders he was given, if for a reason or another such an seems inappropriate or impractical.
If the superior does not retract his order, then the religious will act virtuously in submitting to the order. But he commits no fault in submitting to his superiors some observances or demands relative to this order: as the superior cannot see everything, nor understand everything, the inferior can, through the appropriate and respectful means, notify his superior for the best interest of all. The religious, through his vow of obedience, is not called to deprive himself definitively of any kind of judgment or thought.
Let us imagine the case in which a religious received an order, and for some reason, his superior is no longer present (he is dead, exiled, imprisoned, etc.). New circumstances have rendered this order inopportune, impractical, even dangerous: does the religious commit a sin in not following the order anymore? Obviously not, given that if the superior was present, the religious would ask for the required permission, and that he does not act out of some purely arbitrary and prideful preference, but for very serious reasons.
Some have used, about this case of an order which turned inopportune through circumstances, the example of a child who received from his mother the order not to quit the home in her absence. If the house is on fire, does the child commit a sin of disobedience if he runs out of the house? Obviously not, as the intention of the mother was not to force the child to stay inside the home at the cost of his very life. This is not the spirit of the law. The mother is not present for the child to ask her if he can go outside the home: it doesn’t matter, he is called by necessity to run out of the home, and once his mother will hear that the child ran out of the home in order to flee from the fire, she will obviously understand that his child did not act in spirit of disobedience and did the right thing.
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This is more or less the situation in which the priests who follow the St. Pius X Holy Week find themselves in. The order given by the Pope a long time ago is no longer opportune, for several reasons. The Pope is not here to be asked for an authorization, it is not possible to present him the problems caused by this order; it is prudent to take the decision to no longer follow this order, at the very least such a decision cannot be described as a sin of disobedience, given that there are serious reasons not to follow the rule formerly prescribed. The intention of the legislator (the one who gives the order) is not to put in jeopardy the subject of the law: when the letter of the law contradicts this intention in a specific circumstance, it is virtuous to turn away from the letter of the law, in order to act in the spirit of the law.
To give up on any thought upon orders and laws is exposing oneself, despite the best intentions (it is praiseworthy to renounce oneself), to the greatest dangers. Think about all these Catholics who, by “spirit of obedience” and through a kind of willful blindness, accepted Vatican II and all the following reforms: their intention was pure, one can guess, but their action was extremely bad, for themselves and for all Christians who are still suffering today from the consequences of their bad choices. The scandals of this false obedience are perhaps worse than the scandals of unhinged modernism: for such modernism repels pious people, while this false obedience attracts pious people towards the pitfalls of modernism in a more insidious way.
The thinking of some sedevacantists upon “obedience to Pius XII”, taken to its final logical conclusions, could simply end in the acceptance of Vatican II: for if one “cannot discuss” what comes from authority, why would one discuss and think about the teachings of Paul VI, who was elected as sovereign pontiff and accepted as the Pope by the overwhelming majority of Catholics, including all the Bishops and Cardinals? Isn’t that the manifestation of a “prideful and independent” spirit, which wants to control and select among things that come from authority?
If sedevacantism exists, that is if there are Catholics who realize that what Paul VI said and did was incompatible with papal authority, it is because some Catholics have not forgotten that obedience must not be blind, and that it is legitimate to think about and to study what comes or seems to come from authority (even if it means concluding, in some cases, that what seems to be a law is not a law, or that what seems to be an authority is not an authority).
You have to renounce yourself, but not to renounce what you know to be true, right and good. We have heard, in the context of the Church crisis, some Catholics defend a truly insane idea of obedience, to the point of saying “if the Pope was to say that God does not exist, we would still have to follow him”. This has all the characteristics of fideism: as if reason could never find the truth, and only submission to authority could enlighten our intellect and make us virtuous. This is what Fr. Cekada heard from his former religious superior. He then understood that there was, among these “Novus Ordo conservatives”, a very serious problem of principle. This kind of blind obedience has nothing to do with Christian perfection.
Conclusion
Those who follow the pre-1955 Holy Week instead of the 1955 reformed rite have no intention whatsoever to disobey the Church or to innovate in liturgical matters.
The enemies of this position too often relate it to some arbitrary and personal liturgical choices, to some kind of innovation, to a spirit of independence, or even a will to “legislate on the rites” in place of the Pope: but this position consists in nothing more that keeping the rite that was in force in the Church immediately before the reform, not to enforce some innovation or arbitrary esthetical whim.
This choice has no pretension to be a “new law,” to be imposed upon anyone: it is a firm preference, based on some clear principles, however the idea has never been to say that those who follow the 1955 Holy Week are doing something wrong or sinful. Only those who follow the first position (to follow the 1955 rite) accuse the others of sin and disobedience.
This choice is made in the absence of the legislator, in the absence of a Pope, which removes from it the specific character of disobedience: there would be disobedience if, facing an order of the reigning Pope, these priests would keep preferring another rite to the one that is commanded. This is not what is currently happening.
The privation of authority in the Church forces the faithful priests to go against the letter of Canon Law on a daily basis, but in respect of the intention of the legislator: while they did not receive a canonical authorization for their ministry, they nonetheless received by divine right the mission to confer sacraments and to sanctify the faithful, in a context where the letter of the law cannot be followed.
There are grave and objective reasons which lead us to consider that the 1955 Holy Week 1) without being bad, is nonetheless less perfect than the previous rite, 2) is inopportune in the current context (which is not the one of the times of Pius XII). Consequently, a prudential choice is made to prefer the rite previously in force, in the absence of a Pope to which a respectful demand could be made in order to modify the law, given a more precise knowledge of the intention of the reformers (unknown by Pius XII), and in the presence of the scandals of the new liturgy which comes from the same reformers.
It is with a right intention that these priests choose to follow the rite of St. Pius X, and that their faithful attend these offices. With all our hearth, we wish that a true Pope could rule over the Church again, and settle this dispute over the rite of the Holy Week. In the meantime, we try our best to pursue what appears to us as the best thing to do in defense of the Faith, for the Glory of God and the salvation of souls, in the very unusual situation which the Church is going through, submitting in advance our decision to the sovereign judgment of the Church, if the Lord grants us the grace if having again a Pope and a true Catholic hierarchy.
Tristan Berthelot
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[1] See for example Annibale Bugnini in his autobiographical work The Reform of the Liturgy, 1948-1975
[2] About the errors of the liturgical movement, see the article of Fr. Ricossa about L’hérésie antiliturgique: https://www.sodalitium.eu/lheresie-antiliturgique/