Mass Talks 9: The Gloria

Lent is the season for cutting back on the use of some good things, a time of austerity that should include a measure of self-deprivation. Thus, regarding dietary matters, fasting and abstinence are proper ways of observing Lent. Holy Church has in addition other methods of withholding goods from us in Lent–not to take them entirely from us, but to make us long for their return on Easter. I call to your attention, for example, the absence of the word ‘alleluia’ during Lent: not a peep of it. Flowers, too, are not permitted on the altar except for the solemnities that may occur during Lent (Saints Peter and Paul, the feast of Saint Joseph and the Annunciation) and they are permitted also on this rosy Lætare Sunday, just to add to its joyfulness. Similarly, the playing of the organ is limited in Lent to the support of the singing only. Next week the statues in the church will be covered. There is yet another deprivation, another ‘hunger’ that the Church would have us experience during Lent. It is the omission of the text of the Gloria (known in English as the “Glory to God in the highest”). It is this text that I wish to speak about today in our series of sermons on the Mass.

After the Penitential Act, discussed last week, the Gloria follows on all Sundays except in the seasons of Lent and Advent. Its withdrawal at these times is due to the fact that it is a festive hymn of praise, the great doxology, comparable to the minor doxology, the short and familiar prayer “Glory be to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Spirit.” The opening words, “Gloria in excelsis Deo” were those first sung by a whole army of angels (thousands probably) on the plains of Bethlehem the night our Lord was born. The original text of the Gloria dates from the 4th century and was in Greek, originally used for the morning prayer of the divine office. It was later inserted into the Mass in Latin.

The Gloria has a joyful, and even enthusiastic character. In view of that, I regret always to have to sound the dour comment about how bad our official English translations of the Mass texts are, but the butchering (I know of no more apt expression for it) of this text has significantly diminished this wonderful canticle, robbing it of its rhythm, deleting some of its phrases, destroying its form, and deliberately mistranslating some of its words. (The text found in your Latin booklets, if no masterpiece of prose, is at least an accurate rendering of the Latin original.) We need to take a look at what’s contained in this remarkable text.

First thing to say: in the beginning, before the Fall, when God had made everything just right, all creation gave God fitting praise, both in heaven and on earth. After the fall of the angels and the commission of the first sin by man, God got short return on His praises. That’s why it was such a magnificent thing for the shepherds to have heard the angels singing on Christmas night the Gloria. Glory was now given again to God “in the highest,” that is, ‘in heaven’ by the angels, and then also “on earth” where peace between God and humanity had begun with our Lord’s nativity. If we were to ask ‘who on earth can have this peace?’ the answer is given, ‘to men of good will’ (hominibus bonæ voluntatis). This much examined phrase, whatever its exact original meaning, certainly does not mean “peace to his people on earth.” as we are bid to say. The meaning is that peace comes to rest on people of a certain kind, people “of good will,” of those who enjoy the divine favor. (By contrast, the use of the mistranslated “his people on earth’ inadvertently changes the meaning to refer to the Jews, God’s people–which certainly not the message brought by the angels to those gentile shepherds near Bethlehem.) Before passing on to the rest of the text, I want to mention something that we should be in awe about. Presumably, no human ears since Christmas night ever heard the choirs of angels singing. Think what the original music for the Gloria must have been, so sublime, beyond our powers of imagination!

There then follows an amplification of this exuberance with four expressions that reflecting this glory back upon God: We praise, we bless, we adore, we glory you. (Our poor English here gives only two of these four expressions, adds a different word for one, and changes their position in the text.) In any case, the four Latin verbs are all terms that honor God in religious veneration, but in different ways. We praise God (laudamus) for His perfections and all His works; we bless God (an Hebraic expression meaning a more solemn manner of veneration); we adore God as the one-of-a-kind homage that’s given to God alone; we glorify God, who is already full of glory in Himself, by summoning His creation to return glory back to their divine Source. One should also not miss the rhythm that creates a crescendo of excitement in this praising: laudamus te, benedicimus te, adoramus te, glorificamus te (all lost in the translation).

Then comes a delicious phrase that I have commented upon elsewhere: “We give you thanks / on account of your great glory.” While we may have many reasons to thank God, for so many benefits, here the motivation for thanks is the purest. We thank Him–forgetting ourselves for a moment–for being who He is, infinitely glorious, so admirable so wondrous that the angels and saints never tire of extolling His magnificence. All the beauty of God! This thought alone should make us want to enter heaven.

The Gloria then sets forth three lines, each of which begins with the word Domine, Lord. This is a deliberate literary device that gives form to the text, a recognizable shape. The first phrase addresses God as heavenly King and Father almighty, an extension of the theme about God’s glory that was just recounted. Then the “only-begotten” Son of the Father is identified as being both God and “the Lamb of God.” I’m going to wait until, later in our Mass talks, we speak about the Agnus Dei, the “Lamb of God” text, to give a fuller commentary on this richly meaningful expression. For now, let’s just note that if Jesus is called a lamb, he is one killed for sacrifice. And that’s what gives the following lines meaning: “who take away the sins of the world, have mercy on us.” Because He is our sacrificial Lamb, His blood has cleaning power for our sins. Just as we had three lines that began with the word Domine, so now we have these three lines that begin with qui..., the Latin for ‘who.’ This section is a little litany, in the heart of the text of the Glory, where each phrase has an invocation to Christ that’s followed by a plea. Here’s what I mean. Invocation: “You take away the sins of the world;” the Plea: “have mercy on us.” Again, the Invocation: “You take away the sins of the world;” and the Plea becomes “receive our prayer.” Last Invocation: “Who sit at the Right of the Father;” the Plea: “have mercy on us.” The very idea of a litany, with the repetition of a phrase over and over again, is for intensifying the urgency of a request. Children know this device very well, when they ask their parents the same thing many times until they are satisfied (or chastened). Similarly, we say, “Holy, holy, holy” when we could more economically say “Most holy,” to get across with forcefulness God’s ineffability. And so, the Gloria, by using a litany, says it well: we really stand in need of Christ’s mercy.

There’s a third set of ‘threes’ in the Gloria, creating assonance and form, the “you alone” phrases: tu solus Sanctus, tu solus Dominus, tu solus Altissimus. God the Son alone is Holy, is Lord, is the Most High (“Most High” is another biblical expression from Hebrew, the El Elyon). These three words signify that Jesus Christ truly is God, the absolutely transcendent Deity. But that word “alone” doesn’t mean that the Father and the Son are excluded, of course (since the three are one God). Therefore the Gloria concludes: “with the Holy Spirit in the glory of God the Father.” The summation of the Gloria is a rebounding glory to the ever Blessed Trinity. A nice piece of work, we might say, a well-constructed formulation that deserves its place as a high point in the opening rites of the Mass.

Now that the Gloria has been missing from Mass during Lent, you should have a certain itch to want to hear it again, waiting more eagerly for Easter Sunday (and even a little earlier, for Holy Thursday) to hear again and to join in these joyful praises of the Almighty.