Joseph VanAssche stood beneath the steps of Detroit’s Cathedral of the Most Blessed Sacrament last Sunday, watching families gather as the bells called the faithful to 11:00 a.m. Mass. But these 60-some Catholics weren’t heading inside. Instead, they clutched rosaries and prayer books, preparing for what VanAssche called a “prayerful petition” against Archbishop Edward Weisenburger’s sweeping suppression of the Traditional Latin Mass across their archdiocese.
“We want our archbishop to know that there are many faithful Catholics that still want the ‘Mass of the Ages,'” VanAssche told LifeSite as families from St. Stephen’s and other affected parishes settled into prayer circles on the cathedral grounds.
The scene unfolded against the backdrop of one of the most dramatic liturgical restrictions in recent American Catholic history. When Archbishop Weisenburger’s decree took effect July 1, it slashed the number of churches celebrating the Vetus Ordo from 28 to just four across the entire Detroit Archdiocese. For families like VanAssche’s, who have eight children and had built their spiritual lives around the Traditional Latin Mass, the decision felt like exile from their own Church.
The mathematics are stark. Detroit’s reduction represents an 86% cut in Latin Mass availability, leaving thousands of faithful Catholics scrambling to find the liturgy that Pope Benedict XVI called an “extraordinary treasure” of the Church in his 2007 document Summorum Pontificum. The four remaining locations include the Institute of Christ the King Sovereign Priest’s St. Joseph Shrine, but for many families, these distant options might as well be on another continent.
“Just like many other families, I want my eight kids, and possibly more in the future, to have access to all the beauty the Church has to give,” VanAssche explained, his voice carrying the weight of a father watching opportunities slip away from his children.
When Archbishop Weisenburger suggested that those seeking the Traditional Latin Mass simply drive to one of the four remaining parishes, VanAssche’s response revealed the deeper pastoral crisis at work. “As for my family, we won’t abandon our home parish or priest,” he said. “All the priests who are now forbidden from the TLM are hurt just as much, so I don’t feel right leaving. They have a huge cross to carry with this restriction.”
This sentiment touches on a reality often overlooked in liturgical disputes. Behind every suppressed Mass stand priests who spent years learning the complex rubrics of the Vetus Ordo, often driven by their own spiritual attraction to its reverent beauty. VanAssche sees these clergy as casualties too. “I feel we also need to help these priests carry their cross by not abandoning the churches they are at.”
The Sunday prayer gathering offered a window into how traditional Catholic families respond when they feel their spiritual heritage is threatened. Rather than angry protests or harsh rhetoric, the Detroit families chose the Glorious Mysteries of the Rosary, the Chaplet of Divine Mercy, and the Litany of the Saints. Their voices lifted in the ancient hymns Da Pacem Domine and Salve Regina, echoing off cathedral walls that have witnessed a century of Detroit’s Catholic story.
This approach reflects a broader pattern among Traditional Latin Mass communities nationwide. Faced with restrictions that many view as pastorally harsh, these Catholics typically turn to prayer and patient witness rather than confrontation. They understand that their response itself becomes a testimony to the formation they’ve received through years of worshiping in the Church’s most ancient liturgical form.
In addition to prayer, the faithful in the diocese of Charlotte, North Carolina have chosen to channel their suffering into creating a documentary after their Bishop Michael Martin placed harsh restrictions on the TLM.
In conjunction with Regina Magazine Media, they have released a documentary film called called Bread Not Stones.
“This video is a testimony to what has happened in the Diocese of Charlotte, North Carolina, but it is dedicated to all parishes throughout the world who have had their beloved communities shattered by the implementation of Church policy which has either misunderstood or misrepresented the true nature of the faithful’s love of the Vetus Ordo,” according to the Regina website.
Whatever motivates Bps. Weisenburger and Martin religiously or theologically, the constitutional dimensions of such restrictions deserve attention as well. The First Amendment’s protection of religious free exercise has historically extended to liturgical practices that hold deep spiritual significance for particular communities. When diocesan authorities effectively force families to choose between their home parishes and their preferred form of worship, questions arise about whether such policies respect the religious liberty principles that undergird American law.
Legal scholars like Columbia Law School’s Philip Hamburger have documented how rigid church-state separation often serves to restrict rather than protect religious expression. In cases like Detroit’s, families find themselves caught between diocesan administrative decisions and their constitutional rights to worship according to conscience.
The broader cultural implications extend beyond liturgical preferences. Conservative Catholic families often see the Traditional Latin Mass as essential to raising children with deep faith formation and strong moral foundations. VanAssche’s reference to “future priests and religious sisters” points to research suggesting that vocations to priesthood and religious life emerge disproportionately from families with strong traditional Catholic practices.
When dioceses restrict access to the liturgy these families consider most spiritually nourishing, they may inadvertently undermine the very communities most likely to produce the next generation of Catholic leaders. This creates what some observers call a “pastoral paradox” where policies intended to promote unity may actually weaken the Church’s long-term vitality.
The Detroit situation also reflects tensions within the broader Catholic Church since Pope Francis’s 2021 document Traditionis Custodes reversed many of Benedict XVI’s provisions expanding Traditional Latin Mass access. While Francis emphasized the importance of liturgical unity, implementation varies dramatically from diocese to diocese. Some bishops have maintained generous provisions for traditional communities, while others, like Archbishop Weisenburger, have imposed near-total restrictions.
Notably while the archdiocese of Detroit is restricting the TLM, it is promoting a “Holy Mass with a Musical Setting to Honor the Culture of Jazz in Detroit” at the “Catholic Church of St. Moses the Black” on August 31.
VanAssche’s final appeal to Archbishop Weisenburger struck a note of hope rather than bitterness. “Our hope is that through our prayers, God’s grace will help Archbishop Weisenburger see it from our point of view, the ones trying to raise the future of the Church, future priests and religious sisters, and allow for more Masses in the Extraordinary Form.”
For now, Detroit’s traditional Catholic families continue to bear patient witness, gathering weekly to pray for their archbishop and their Church. Their children learn through example that even in disappointment, faithful Catholics respond with prayer rather than protest, with hope rather than hatred. Whether their witness will move hearts in the diocesan chancery remains to be seen, but their approach itself testifies to the spiritual formation they’ve received through the “Mass of the Ages” they – and the saints before them – love so deeply.
