Are We Deserting ‘the Church in Its Passion’, If We Leave the Novus Ordo for Traditionalism?
True faith—as echoed by our Church Fathers—requires that we actively discern the best way to worship God.
In many Catholic circles today, a common refrain persists: “We can’t desert the Church in its passion.”
This sentiment is sometimes used to justify staying with the current liturgical forms—namely, the Novus Ordo Mass—even when these forms lack something essential. But is it truly an act of disloyalty to leave a parish celebrating the Novus Ordo and seek a return to the Traditional Latin Mass (TLM)?
I am going to attempt to give the “easy, short” answer. Obviously, the answer is so complex and far-reaching that books can be, and have been, written about it, but I would like to just explore a starting point for those who maybe harbour this sentiment themselves or are in conversation with someone who does.
I would also like to make it clear that when using the phrases “Novus Ordo Mass” or “Traditional Latin Mass/TLM”, I am not only referring to the liturgical forms, but also to the typical theology, doctrine, devotions, homilies, music, etc. that accompany both forms.
That being said, let’s dive in.
For many, the call to “not desert the Church in its passion” springs from a genuine concern: the Church is undergoing trials, it is suffering, and in such times, one is urged to cling to its institutions and practices rather than abandon them. This idea echoes the many biblical admonitions to persevere amid trials and to remain faithful to the “pillar and foundation of truth” (1 Timothy 3:15). It’s an appeal not only to loyalty but also to unity—a call for the faithful to take heart amid suffering and remain united with a Church that is imperfect yet divinely guided.
Yet, while Scripture and tradition do indeed command endurance in times of trial, the call to unity and perseverance must be understood in light of a higher imperative: that our faith continuously be nourished, challenged, and renewed. In other words, true fidelity cannot consist of passive acceptance of all that is present, especially if the practices themselves might be contributing to the chipping away of our faith
One of the most significant dangers in merely accepting “the Church’s passion” is the risk of mistaking resignation for loyalty. True faith—as echoed by our Church Fathers—requires that we actively discern the best way to worship God.
Suppose we remain in an environment where liturgical practices lack the sacrificial and transcendent qualities that have traditionally nourished countless saints and faithful communities. In that case, our “loyalty” becomes, in effect, an acceptance of practices that may endanger our spiritual well-being. As St. Augustine reminds us in his Confessions, the journey of faith calls for constant self-examination and renewal. Remaining in a parish simply because “the Church is suffering” might then be less an act of courage and fidelity than it is a capitulation to inertia.
The charge, “we can’t desert the Church in its passion,” is valid when it calls for perseverance through trials. However, if that passion is compounded by practices that do not draw us sufficiently toward Christ—if, for instance, the liturgical form fails to evoke the true sacrificial mystery of the Mass—then it becomes necessary to reject those forms and practices.
As St. Ignatius of Loyola taught, reforming one’s inner life is part of living in full communion with God. True loyalty does not mandate uncritical passivity; rather, it demands that we, as members of the Body of Christ, work to restore and enhance the manner in which we worship. If the current liturgical environment allows distractions or obscures the sacred mystery it is meant to proclaim, then improving that environment is not desertion but an act of constructive love.
The Bible is replete with exhortations to guard one’s faith. In Colossians 2:8, Paul warns,
“See to it that no one takes you captive by philosophy and empty deceit, according to human tradition…”
This verse calls upon the faithful to be vigilant, to scrutinize every tradition—even those that come from within the Church—and to ensure that nothing steals away from the fullness of the Gospel.
Similarly, 1 Peter 5:8 implores us, “Be sober-minded; be watchful. Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour.”
These admonitions remind us that unchecked complacency—accepting the Church’s current state without critical reflection—can leave us vulnerable to the subtle erosions of faith.
Moreover, Proverbs 4:23 teaches, “Guard your heart, for from it flow the springs of life.”
Here, guarding your heart implies protecting the source of your faith from influences that may corrupt or diminish it. Adopting liturgical practices that fail to nourish our spiritual life is akin to neglecting these sacred warnings.
Catholic teachings affirm that the faithful must remain committed to the Church, even in hardship. The current Catechism of the Catholic Church (CCC 825–830) (as lacking as it might be) emphasizes our responsibility to persevere in communion with the Church despite its imperfections. However, this same tradition insists that such perseverance must be active and discerning.
St. John of the Cross, in his discourse on the “dark night” of the soul, does not suggest that passively enduring suffering is enough. Instead, he exhorts believers to confront and purge the spiritual obstacles that dim the light of faith. Likewise, St. Catherine of Siena urged the faithful to “attend to the light that calls you out of darkness,” indicating that true loyalty involves an active response to the signs of spiritual decay.
At the core of the Eucharistic celebration is the sacred re-presentation of Christ’s one definitive sacrifice on Calvary. The TLM excels in calling to mind this mystery through a liturgy that is meticulous, contemplative, and steeped in symbolism. The gestures of ad orientem celebration—the priest facing the same direction as the congregation—serve to remind all that the focal point of the Mass is Christ, our eternal High Priest.
In contrast, the Novus Ordo liturgical practices dilute this sacrificial emphasis. The carefully preserved texts and rubrics of the TLM ensure that every element of the Mass—from the Offertory prayers to the silent recitation of the Canon—directs the mind and heart to the Passover of the Lamb.
This sacrificial focus is not a mere ritualistic formality but a living encounter with the mystery of redemption. The language, the solemnity, and even the silence embedded in the TLM contribute to an atmosphere where the faithful cannot but be drawn into reverence—and, ultimately, into a more profound experience of God’s redemptive work.
For many, the TLM is not only about preserving an ancient form of worship—it is about recapturing a depth of spiritual beauty that inspires and transforms. Taylor Marshall, a well-known voice among Traditionalists, reflects on his own journey:
“The Latin Mass gave me a hunger for beauty and a reverence for the sacred… I was hooked by its disciplined, transcendental language and its inherent reminder of the mystery of Christ’s sacrifice.”
The beauty of the TLM is not superficial; it has a purpose. It reminds us that the Eucharist is a mystery to be contemplated, not merely consumed as a communal ritual. Through its artful language and evocative gestures, the TLM invites the faithful to participate in an act of worship that is both deeply historical and supremely relevant—a form of worship that resurrects the soul and reorients the heart toward the divine.
When the liturgical form adopted by the Church fails to articulate the true mystery of the Eucharist, remaining in that form may inadvertently foster division by numbing the spiritual ardor necessary for genuine communion. Instead, a return to the TLM does not represent an act of schism, but a call for internal renewal—a way of healing the wounds that have been allowed to fester through inattention to sacred tradition.
While it is true that the Church has, throughout its history, endured suffering and is even described in Scripture as being “in its passion,” using this state of crisis as an excuse to accept suboptimal liturgical practices is perilous. If our liturgical environment contributes to a weakening of reverence for the sacrificial mystery of the Eucharist, then clinging to it uncritically not only endangers individual souls but risks further erosion of the Church’s spiritual foundation.
While its proponents claimed the liturgical reforms of Vatican II were intended to open up worship to the laity, in practice, many worshippers have found that the resultant Mass can be marked by a loss of solemnity and a dilution of its sacrificial character. When the very practices meant to cultivate a rich encounter with the divine begin to contribute to spiritual complacency, they must be rejected.
The Catechism of the Catholic Church also exhorts us to nurture our gift of faith actively. It explains that faith must be guarded and nourished in a spirit of vigilance (CCC 2089). This means that Catholics are not only called to persevere in membership but also to seek forms of worship that truly elevate the soul. When those forms fall short of transmitting the fullness of the Gospel, continuing in them without question can be tantamount to endangering one’s faith.
The argument that “we can’t desert the Church in its passion” is rooted in a heartfelt desire to remain loyal during trying times. Yet, if remaining within the Church means tolerating practices that result in diminished reverence or that fail to stir a genuine encounter with Christ, then such endurance becomes counterproductive.
Choosing the Traditional Latin Mass is not an act of rebellion against the Church. Rather, it is a return to a form of worship that has long been recognized as a potent catalyst for personal conversion and renewal. As countless Traditionalists testify, the TLM revives the sacrificial language and symbolism that have nourished the faithful for centuries. Its beauty and rigor are not relics of a bygone era but are living resources for building up the body of Christ.
When the Church suffers—and indeed, it has suffered throughout its history—one must not use that suffering as an excuse to tolerate mediocrity or dilution in the sacred liturgy. If our liturgical environment contributes to a weakening of our faith, then staying in it uncritically does not honor Christ’s sacrifice but, rather, imperils our capacity to receive it.
Leaving behind a Novus Ordo parish in favor of a Traditional parish is not an act of desertion but an expression of the deep conviction that one’s spiritual nourishment is paramount. In a world where many feel that the sanctity of worship is under siege by modern distractions and diluted practices, the TLM stands as a reminder that true liturgical beauty and depth can—and must—be recovered.
The broader Church benefits when the faithful are discerning about how they worship. A liturgy that fails to evoke proper reverence not only endangers individual souls but also contributes to a weakening of the Church’s collective witness. When liturgical practices lose sight of their transcendent purpose, the entire community is deprived of the grace that should lead it to holiness.
The charge that by leaving the Novus Ordo for traditionalism we are “deserting the Church in its passion” ultimately rests on a misunderstanding of what genuine fidelity requires. While Scripture and Church tradition do indeed urge us to remain in communion with our Church, they also require us to guard our hearts and nurture our faith.
When we remain in a situation simply because the Church is in distress—without questioning whether that environment may be weakening our faith—we risk contributing to a cycle of spiritual decay. Not only our own but also those entrusted to us, such as our families.
On the other hand, by seeking out forms of worship that more fully illuminate the mystery of the Eucharist and awaken our soul to the sacred, we are not deserting the Church but acting in its best interest.
In conclusion, the argument that we “cannot desert the Church in its passion” is valid in emphasizing loyalty. However, it becomes dangerous if used to justify complacency in the face of practices that endanger our spiritual well‐being. True fidelity, according to Catholic teaching, involves an ongoing journey—a journey in which our liturgical life must continually be examined so that it may lead us ever closer to the mystery of Christ’s sacrifice.
By choosing the Traditional Latin Mass, we are not rejecting the Church. We are embracing a form of worship that has nourished countless saints over the centuries and that continues to resonate deeply with those who long for the fullness of sacred beauty and sacrificial adoration. In doing so, we contribute to the restoration of the Church’s spiritual vitality—ensuring that our unity is built not on uncritical endurance but on a shared commitment to the truth, beauty, and holiness that our Lord has prepared.
In this light, departing from a parish that celebrates the Novus Ordo in favor of one that upholds the timeless treasures of our liturgical heritage is not an act of desertion—it is an act of courage, an act of critical love, and ultimately, a step toward the true renewal of the Church.
Let us, therefore, discern wisely, act boldly, and always keep our hearts fixed on the ultimate goal: a reverent, life-giving encounter with our Lord in the mystery of His sacrifice.
“And I heard another voice from heaven, saying: Go out from her, my people; that you be not partakers of her sins, and that you receive not of her plagues. For her sins have reached unto heaven, and the Lord hath remembered her iniquities.” - The Apocalypse of St. John 18:4,5
Ave Christus Rex!
Recognise & Resist!
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You've got it right. Peter Kwasniewski's recent book title sucinctly captures the heart of the matter:
"Close the Workshop: Why the Old Mass Isn’t Broken and the New Mass Can’t Be Fixed." After three decades of only attending the New Mass, I finally and fully left it about a decade ago. It is truly very simple: what is most pleasing to God must drive our mode of worship, not what makes us feel good, is more convenient, or more comfortable. Knowing what is most pleasing to God is obligatory for every adult Catholic. Are some called to stay in the Novus Ordo for one reason or another? Perhaps - and that is why we ought never to judge those who remain there.
The Novus Ordo is a much greater threat than all of Vatican II