Our Father

Today's Gospel records Jesus' teaching of the 'Our Father', to his disciples. If you were present two days ago for the Rite of Election of candidates for baptism, you may have been surprised that, unlike most liturgical functions, it did not contain this most central of Christian prayers.

The reason is that Christian tradition regards the Lord's Prayer as part of the arcanum, the secrets that are known only to the initiated, and only passed on to catechumens as their initiation draws near. We have already prayed, in the Collect of the First Sunday of Lent, that we will grow in understanding of Christi arcanum, which our Missal translates (with a nod to Ephesians 3:8) as ‘the riches hidden in Christ’. The Lord’s Prayer will be handed on to the elect as part of the liturgy of the third scrutiny on the fifth Sunday of Lent. But they will only proclaim the prayer with the community for the first time after their Baptism and before their first reception of the Eucharist.

In our culture, the Lord's Prayer is widely known and used. Even unbaptised children in our schools are expected to learn and repeat it. Before the Council, the Roman liturgy contained more indications of its special character. At Mass, the celebrant would sing or say it alone, the rest of the assembly only responding with its final clause, sed libera nos a malo. On many other occasions, the bulk of the prayer was said silently, only the opening and the conclusion being audible. In many monastic communities the custom survives of the superior singing most of it on his or her own.

Theological support for this is found in the New Testament: 'unless a person is born again of water and the Spirit, he cannot enter the kingdom of God' (John 3,5); 'Blessed be the God and Father of Our Lord Jesus Christ! By his great mercy we have been born anew . . . ' (1 Peter 1,3). Our new birth through baptism gives us a new Mother - the Church - and a new Father - God.

Hence the tentative tone of the introduction to the Our Father at Mass. The celebrant seems almost to be tip-toeing up to the prayer with a reverent hesitation. He refers twice to the giver of the prayer: 'the Saviour's command . . . divine teaching' but not directly, until finally, having screwed up his courage and presented his credentials, he dares to address God as Father.

Striving on the First Sunday of Lent

In the Post-communion of today's Mass we anglophones are bidden to pray that we may 'strive' to live by every word that comes from the mouth of God. That isn't what the the Latin says. It prays that we may 'be able' so to live. The English stresses human effort more than the Latin does.

The previous English translation was widely, and rightly, criticised for the same tendency. Many accused it of Pelagianism. The new translation has improved matters in this regard, but not entirely, as today's Post-communion shows.

Another instance of this tendency can be seen in the invitation to repentance at the beginning of Mass. We are asked to acknowledge our sins 'and so prepare ourselves' to celebrate the Sacred Mysteries. The Latin says merely 'that we may be ready' (ut apti simus) to celebrate - no mention of human effort there, but plenty of room for God's grace.

Pelagius was a Celt, and a high proportion of English-speaking Catholics have Celtic roots. Perhaps it is not surprising, then, that the shadow of his teaching should fall over our translation of the Mass.