"The Older Will Serve The Younger:" The Novus Ordo And The Stolen Birthright

 The liturgical noose seems to be tightening in many parts of the country. The ICKSP getting booted in Chicago; Savanah and DC, among others, issuing restrictions on the Traditional Mass. It's crazy to think about, especially if you love Tradition. 

Most well-meaning but largely ignorant Catholics who may not know or care enough about the significance of the changes to the Mass after the Second Vatican Council might wonder what the big deal is, this liturgical "preferencing." Out with the old, in with the new. If they are sympathetic, they may even throw consolation bones, like "we have a reverent Novus Ordo where we can receive on the tongue. And we even have Chant and incense too!" 

I'm not steeped in the history of the liturgical reforms by any means, but I've read and been exposed to enough to know that it was the machinations of a few (Annibale Bugnini being the chief architect) that intentionally switched the tracks in the train yard, and took things where they were never intended to go. It was not accidental, but by design.

In the readings at Mass today, we see the praising of the dishonest steward in Lk 16:1-9. So already there was this theme running through my head about deceptiveness, guile, and switch-a-roos. And it brought be back to Genesis 25-27: the story of Jacob and Essau.

Now, I don't have these thoughts worked out; this is just a dumb blog post, not a scholarly article. We know that the Christ comes through the line of Isaac, not Ishhmael; through Jacob, not Essau. We also know that Essau is first born, and so is in line to receive the blessing and birthright. We see in the birth story, Jacob "gripping Esau's heel" (Gen 25:26) and coming out a close second. Note the words of the Lord spoken to Rebekah:

"Two nations are in your womb,

two peoples are separating while still within you;

But one will be stronger than the other, and the older will serve the younger." (Gen 25:23)

Strange, right? Now let's look at the two things first: the selling of Esau's birthright to Jacob for a pot of stew (Gen 25:31), and then the stealing of the blessing in Gen 27. 

Esau himself sold his birthright (gave it away, basically) in exchange for food. Jacob is like the shrewd steward who is commended in the reading today. "First sell me your right as firstborn." The implications were long-standing. Later, Jacob continues his cunning by donning a hair suit and sneaking in to Isaac's chamber to trick him into giving him the blessing instead of Essau. He puts on the hairy suit to pretend he is Jacob. 

Think about that a minute. 

When I think of the Consilium, I think the Esaus in the Church didn't realize at the time, perhaps, the value of what they possessed. But other, more shrewd churchmen who sought to remake the liturgy could only do so by a kind of swap-a-roo, akin to the deception of Jacob's hair shirt. Not only do they lose the birthright, but they lose the blessing. And the words of the Lord spoken to Rebekah seem to be actualized today: "Two nations are in your womb; two people are separating while still within you. But one will be stronger than the other, and the older will serve the younger."

Even when Isaac summons Jacob and blesses him in Chapter 28, what does he tell him? "You shall not marry a Canaanite woman!" (Gen 28:1). He doesn't, but Essau does. I don't know what to make of that one.  

The Novus Ordo is a kind of liturgical "stranger"--it's birth came about by way of a kind of deception, a cunning and shrewdness (imagine Bugnini in the hair shirt and Paul VI as the aged Isaac) in how it was forumulated and carried out, that robbed the unknowing faithful of their birthright. And now, if Rome has its way, it will be "the older serving the younger."

How all these liturgical battlelines, prophecy, human deception, and Gods' will in it all plays out remains to be seen. And I'm not coming to any conclusion here--only noting some interesting themes in scripture, here. Take the disjointed thoughts for what they're worth--which is not much, really.