Active Participation and the Lowest Common Denominator

It has been said that the Novus Ordo represents the apotheosis of active participation as the first principle of liturgical worship over and above all other considerations, including ritual integrity or even what is fitting for divine worship. I had a harsh realization about this several years ago when I was on vacation and had to go to Mass at some random church (don't the worst liturgical stories always seem to happen when we are on vacation?)

I was at what I would consider a very generic diocesan parish. The liturgy was not "bad" by Novus Ordo standards—serviceable hymns, modestly decorated sanctuary, nothing too outlandish, brutalist, or post-modern. Typical Boomer Mass. Standard N.O. fare.

The first sign of real trouble came at the readings. A man went up to lector and it was obvious that the poor fellow was suffering from some kind of nervous system disability like Parkinson's Disease. His hands shook continuously and uncontrollably; his head periodicaly jerked to the side with an involuntary twitch. His reading was delivered in a shaky, wavering voice. I winced when I saw his trembling hands attempting to turn the page of Lectionary and replace the ribbon.

Such things are not uncommon in the Novus Ordo, where there's really no criteria for suitability in a liturgical role beyond one's willingness to participate. But I remember thinking, "Good heavens, they better not let this guy be an Extraordinary Minister!" Imagine my horror when, at communion time, I saw the same man get up, rub some hand sanitizer on his trembling fingers, and go up to the sanctuary with the other EMHCs to distribute communion. I think my jaw literally dropped when I realized they were going to entrust the sacred species to a man whose hands shook involuntarily.

I generally try to focus on my prayers during Holy Communion, but here could not help but watching in morbid curiosity, awaiting the inevitable disaster. I did not have to wait long. I think he had distributed to maybe five people before he dropped one of the Sacred Hosts on the ground. He looked over at the priest, kind of befuddled with a "woopsie" expression on his face. The priest looked irritated. He walked over, picked it up, put it back into his ciborium and everything went on—the same trembling fellow continued to distribute! No cloth or purificator or anything was placed on the spot. I performed the characteristic Novus Ordo "line hop" to get into the priest's line so I didn't have to worry about having to deal with the shaking guy.

Setting aside the larger issue—that we should not even have had a liturgical reform let alone have to deal with lay lectors and EMHCs—there is the very practical matter of one's suitability to perform the function one is entrusted with. There are some conditions that should simply disqualify people from certain tasks. Someone with chronic coughing fits should not work in food preparation; a man with uncontrollable rancid flatulence should not drive a taxi—and a man with advanced Parkinson's should not be an EMHC. I am sure this shaky guy was a nice man who had the best of intentions, but there are some conditions that should preclude someone from assuming a given role, regardless of their eagerness to participate.

A few years ago I did an article critiquing the practice of lay lectors simply from a utilitarian perspective ("Utilitarian Arguments Against Lay Lectors," Nov. 2020). In that article I observed that the admission of lay readers and such incidents as I described above are interconnected due to the principle of active participation:

One reason for the subpar lectoring in the Novus Ordo is that, once you admit the principle that the readings should be done by a layperson, you must now find a constant supply of laypeople to do this for every set of readings: day after day, week after week, year after year. Even assuming one lector is going to read multiple times during a month, this is still a tall order. To keep the assembly line of lay lectors flowing uninterrupted, a pastor cannot afford to be choosy with whom he admits to the ambo. Even though canonically the pastor has total discretion over who can fulfill this function, in practice any warm body who wants to lector is going to be permitted.

Though we are discussing lectoring, the principle applies broadly to the entire liturgy. This is a dynamic that Peter Kwasniewski discusses in his book Close the Workshop, which he calls the LCD factor ("lowest common denominator"). The LCD is a type of social pressure that emerges when the liturgy allows for a series of options on a spectrum ranging from the difficult to permissive. Entropy causes things to flow in the direction of least resistance, so a priest wishing to maintain standards that are more demanding will always find himself working against the current. The LCD acts as an force driving the liturgy towards whatever options are easiest to execute, whatever will cause the least amount of pushback from the people. Kwasniewski explains it thus:

The same can be said of sacred music, church architecture, sacred vessels, vestments, preaching, etc., etc., etc. We are all now forced by social pressure to conform to the LCD. And what happens when a priest doesn't want to conform to the LCD but wants to raise the bar? Well, typically the choice is either conform to the LCD or hit the highway. The dynamic subtly eats away at the bishop's own integrity, because when he is confronted with complaints about a "difficult" or "demanding" priest—as identified promptly by Susan from the Parish Council—he must either stick his neck out and risk his reputation to defend the priest, or take the quieter path of pressuring the priest to conform to the LCD (or face exile to the boondocks, removal from ministry, or some other form of cancellation). (Peter Kwasniewski, Close the Workshop: Why the Old Mass Isn't Broken and the New Mass Can't be Fixed, [Aneglico Press: Brooklyn, NY., 2025], 82).

In the case of the shaking man I witnessed drop the host, the LCD is reflected in the social pressure this priest must have experienced to allow this man to serve as an EMHC. Telling him he was unsuited would raise complicated questions about how to determine suitability and what disabilities are disqualifying, not to mention risk offending the man, causing friction at the parish, and potentially getting a nastygram sent to the bishop. And besides, what if he didn't have enough EMHCs to fill the slots as it was? Would he want to deal with the hassle of recruiting a replacement?—because, again, once you embrace the principle that all these roles ought to be filled wth lay people, you need to keep those slots filled.

 Why deal with all that nonsense? It is far easier to just shrug and say, "If he wants to participate, let him participate." Active participation creates a social pressure towards maximal involvement, even if the persons putting themselves forward are unsuited for the task.

In my article on lay lectors, I concluded that:

...the true North Star of the Novus Ordo is the flawed principle of active participation. It's a kind of liturgical affirmative action: a cleric can objectively "do the job" better, but a less qualified person is chosen, not based on their ability, but solely on their identity. The fittingness of the liturgical celebration comes second; attending to lay "representation" in the ritual is first. It is a perfect example of the schizophrenia of the Novus Ordo mentality―to prefer a watered-down, banal experience that is objectively slipshod and detrimental to faith so long as people can feel like they are "doing something."

Once you admit the principle that it is always better for people to be assuming roles in the liturgy, the LCD creates a social pressure towards maximal involvement at the expense of everything else, including basic questions of the suitability of the people involved and what is fitting for divine worship.