Beloved Parishioners,

This piece concludes the reflection I started last week on the traditional Latin Mass. Pope Benedict XVI hoped that allowing the two forms of the Roman Rite to coexist would heal wounds and foster mutual enrichment. The older rite would restore a sense of transcendence and reverence; the newer would provide accessibility and pastoral reach.

His vision was rooted in a theology of continuity, in which the Church grows but never contradicts herself.

Pope Francis took a markedly different approach. In 2021, through the instrumentality of the document, Traditionis Custodes, he declared that the reformed liturgy of Vatican II is the unique expression of the Roman Rite and imposed strict limits on the use of the Traditional Latin Mass. His concern was not primarily ritual but ecclesial. He argued that the TLM had become a rallying point for those who reject Vatican II and undermine the unity of the Church. From his perspective, a liturgical form that fosters division must be regulated, even suppressed, for the sake of communion.

In connection with the restrictions imposed by Pope Francis on the TLM, Pope Francis removed Bishop Joseph E. Strickland of the Diocese of Tyler, Texas from the pastoral governance of the Diocese of Tyler, Texas, effectively relieving him of his office in 2023 after an apostolic visitation and consultation with other prelates. Strickland refused to implement the Traditionis Custodes restrictions (Pope Francis’ 2021 apostolic letter limiting the celebration of the pre-Vatican II Mass), saying he did so because he could not “starve out part of my flock” by shutting down Traditional Latin Mass communities.

This disagreement between Popes Benedict XVI and Francis is not a mere statutory dispute. Rather, it reflects two competing visions of Tradition itself. Pope Benedict XVI sees Tradition as something that binds even popes, a sacred inheritance that cannot be repudiated; while Pope Francis sees Tradition as a living process that must be interpreted through the lens of the present Church, especially Vatican II. One prioritizes continuity; the other prioritizes unity as understood today. The intensity of the controversy shows that what is at stake is nothing less than the Church’s self-understanding.

What makes the TLM so compelling to many in the modern world is precisely what makes it unsettling. In an age of noise, self-expression, and constant change, it offers stillness, objectivity, and transcendence. It does not ask how worshippers feel but how they adore. It places God, not the community, at the center. For its defenders, it is not a museum piece but a living school of reverence and humility. At the same time, its critics fear that it freezes the Church in a pre-conciliar mentality and resists the pastoral openness Vatican II sought to promote. They worry that it fosters clericalism, elitism, and a rejection of the Council’s vision of a Church engaged with the modern world.

Thus, the Traditional Latin Mass has become more than a liturgical form. It is a symbol of two ways of being Catholic in the twenty-first century. Whichever side one takes, one thing is undeniable: the TLM has forced the Church to confront fundamental questions about authority, continuity, and worship. It has revealed that liturgy is never just about rubrics. It is theology made visible, belief embodied in ritual. And when the Church argues about how she prays, she is really arguing about who she is.

In his first Extraordinary Consistory of Cardinals (7–8 January 2026), Pope Leo XIV invited cardinals to discuss broad themes such as synodality, evangelization, and mission. Although it specifically indicates that the Traditional Latin Mass was not a central topic openly debated on the floor of the consistory, the liturgy and the place of the Traditional Latin Mass were present in the broader context, including through written materials distributed privately for example, a critical assessment of the TLM reportedly circulated by Cardinal Arthur Roche.

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