May 2004 Archives

Not counting myself as a progressive, I'm probably one of the least qualified to attempt such a thing. However, after reading a recent discussion about microphones at Father Keyes' blog, I felt that some confusion over this issue warrants further discussion.

I can understand why sincere progressives don't deserve all the blame for poor use of microphones, but I think one would be pretty hard-pressed to claim that those who started using them would not have identified with a progressive understanding of Liturgy. Granted that fiddling with acoustics may result in a requirement for mic's, but that does not explain why mic's were introduced in churches with traditional architecture and no acoustically-affecting modifications. It probably is, to a large extent, ignorance, and trying to imitate contemporary models. For example, if a pastor says to the parish youth, "Go organize a musical group for Mass," it's pretty clear it would be modeled on whatever forms they are accustomed to.

So let's agree that there are modern progressives, who are serious about doing Liturgy properly, and have agreed to back off from the mic's. They should be distinguished from those who modernize Liturgy for the sake of producing more enjoyable entertainment. It makes sense, since they are rightly trying to promote congregational participation in singing.

Some years ago, I belonged to a West Coast diocese whose weekly publication was called "The Progress". I always bristled at that name, because it brought to mind several questions, "Progress from what? Progress to what? How will we know when we get there? What happens then?" Just the thought that the diocesan motto centered around movement, in no apparent direction, was troubling to me. As you can imagine, the contents of the paper promoted all things modern and discouraged all things traditional. Experience in the parish to which I belonged bore this out.

But what exactly is a progressive, if not as my experience has shown? In terms of twentieth century Church teaching on liturgical music, it seems to me that those with a traditional understanding of liturgical music are the only ones who are interested in all that the documents are saying. Progressives seem to glean through them and quickly pick up on anything that promotes activity, participation, or any sort of choice; and conveniently skip over and ignore all the rest that promotes Latin, chant, instrumentation, etc. How can we talk about progress in liturgical reform, even according to Vatican II, when progressives have progressed away from Gregorian chant having "pride of place".

In the late 60's, progressives had no qualms about ramming changes through, on questionable authority, regardless what the parishioners thought. I find it disingenuous to hear today, from those claiming to advocate progress, that we can't do what a hundred years of documents have advocated because the people don't want it. What in the world are we progressing to if not what the Council Fathers had in mind?

This is a segment of a larger article, by Sandro Magister, which provides an overview of the Holy Father's new book, "Alzatevi, Andiamo". It is the longest I've seen in English so far, and it may have to suffice for some time, as John Allen of the National Catholic Reporter says an English edition is not likely forthcoming until the Fall.

In the article, Mr. Magister compares and constrasts the initiatives undertaken by Karol Wojtyla as Archbishop of Krakow versus as Pope in Rome. Here is one instance where we learn that the Holy Father basically concedes defeat for the time being, in his ability to bring about authentic reform according the mind of the Council Fathers.

But the duplication in Rome of another of his great Krakow initiatives, the diocesan synod, failed. Stefan Wilkanowicz is the director of the Foundation for Christian Culture that flanks the magazine 'Znak', and he was one of the principal coordinators of the synod: 'The objective was to realize in the diocese the indications of Vatican Council II. We of the central commission fixed the principles, theme by theme, and the faithful, in groups, discussed how to apply them to concrete situations. At the beginning we foresaw approximately fifty groups, but in fact five hundred of them arose, working for seven years, with teams of typists employed day and night in copying the texts that the regime had forbidden us to print. It was a magnificent school of Christianity for thousands of people, without equal in Poland and perhaps in the world. They then tried to duplicate it on a national scale, but the bishops, first of all, were not equal to the task. Wojtyla also thought about doing something similar as pope, but then decided to let it go. I think the idea will be revisited within a century.'

Other strategies would follow, but I don't have an overwhelming sense that the Holy Father believes the Council reforms are complete, or can even be declared a success to date. Surely, there are pockets of good fruits, but by and large, the true intent of the Council has not been permitted to see the light of day, that it might deliver on its promise. Take the reform of the Liturgy as one case in point.

A thought that came to me in passing recently, while meditating on this Scripture passage: "At that time Jesus answered and said: I confess to thee, O Father, Lord of Heaven and earth, because thou hast hid these things from the wise and prudent, and hast revealed them to little ones. Yea, Father: for so hath it seemed good in thy sight." (Matt 11:25-26)

I do count myself as a traditional Catholic, but I can still see somewhat of a distinction between how I approach, deal with and accept our faith versus that of other traditionals. Many I have known have a tendency (and often justified) to be on the defensive against the influence of progressive Catholics. In this I largely concur.

In this second part, Father Robert Skeris opened a Colloquium on Musica Sacra at Christendom College on 25 June 1992, with this address:

The available evidence, when analysed, allows us to conclude that if a special presence of the Divine is to be found anywhere in man's historical world, it is to be found in its most concentrated form in a sacred ritual action, and because of their relationship to this sacred action, persons, places, times and objects are also called "sacred."

But what is an actio praecellenter sacra? It is simply the accomplishment of an action, a rite, performed by a community in a non-ordinary way. Let us be very precise: we are speaking here of the celebration of the Eucharistic mysteries during which there occurs the Exceptional par excellence, the uncommon and extraordinary in the absolute sense of those words - God's physical presence among men under the forms of bread and wine. The meaning of this divine Presence for man is precisely rapi - to be enraptured, carried up and away beyond the Here and Now. And nothing could be more obvious to a man of faith than to act "differently" within such a circumscribed context, "differently" than he acts otherwise, on the tennis courts, for instance, or at the supermarket. One speaks a language which is obviously human but yet "different;" "special," somehow, in delivery, in style, in diction and grammar, in vocabulary. What then of the musica sacra which forms an integral part of this actio praecellenter sacra? What must its distinctive characteristics be? Will it sound, for example, like ordinary, everyday pop music to which more or less "pious" texts have been joined? Will it sound like common, everyday entertainment music? like a more or less inconspicuous background accompaniment for toothpaste commercials? . . .

The Sacrament of the Eucharist is received and eaten because food and drink better symbolise the specific effects of the grace of this Sacrament. The Eucharist is both sacrifice (insofar as it is offered) and sacrament (insofar as it is received). The Church offers up the Mass, for it is a sacrifice; but Holy Communion is a food, a gift, a privilege, something not offered but enjoyed. The real distinction between Sacrifice and Sacrament is to be sought in the contrary aspects of suffering and joy, though in a sacrifice, suffering plays a different role than does joy in the case of a meal. Suffering is a necessary pre-condition of the sacrifice, whereas joy is a necessary consequence of a meal. To summarise: a meal as meal cannot be a sacrifice, and a sacrifice as sacrifice cannot be a meal. To represent one "in the form of" the other is to present a tragedy "in the form of" a comedy, or to depict a circle "in the form of" a square. In liturgico-musical terms: if Holy Mass is indeed a sacrifice, an actio praecellenter sacra, then one of its integral and necessary parts will be a music which is also sacra. But if a fraternal meal is actually being celebrated, then very different music will be appropriate . . . a "polka Mass," for instance.

During the ad limina visit of the Brazilian bishops of Pastoral region Sul-I, on 20 March 1990, Pope John Paul II made these significant remarks: Legitimate and necessary concern for current realities in the concrete lives of people cannot make us forget the true nature of the liturgical actions. It is clear that the Mass is not the time to "celebrate" human dignity or purely terrestrial claims or hopes. It is rather the sacrifice which renders Christ really present in the sacrament.

Here is a link to all the prayers for the Novena to the Holy Ghost for the Seven Gifts. The novena starts tomorrow and finishes on the Vigil of Pentecost. Remember that, of the multitude of novenas out there, all of which are profitable in their own respect, this is a special one. This is the novena on which all others are patterned. It was instituted by Our Lord Himself, on the first Ascension Thursday, when he told His disciples on the outskirts of Bethany, "And I send the promise of my Father upon you: but stay you in the city till you be endued with power from on high." (Luke 24:49)

In this first part, Father Robert Skeris opened a Colloquium on Musica Sacra at Christendom College on June 28, 1991 with this address:

But what sort of music furnishes the appropriate form for such supremely meaningful content? Plainly, a music which will permit man to feel that transcendent attraction or "pull" which elevates him to a higher level, or at least to higher moments. In practice, the matter is settled when we have given an honest answer to the one absolutely fundamental question: is the cult (and here more precisely, the Divine Liturgy) really a sacred action (actio sacra) in the strict sense, in the course of which God Himself becomes present in Jesus Christ? Or is it simply a matter of an event in which nothing real actually occurs, nothing which would in principle surpass the merely human? Once this question has been answered in the spirit of true faith, then nothing more need be said. . . .

The point is worth repeating: if Holy Mass is indeed a sacrifice, an actio sacra praecellenter (as the last Council rightly termed it), then one of its necessary and integral parts will be a musica which perforce is also sacra (Liturgy Constitution Sacros. Concilium, art. 112). But if something else is being "celebrated," for example the fraternal gathering of a given community or a merely commemorative meal, then a very different kind of musica will be required. . . . perhaps a "polka Mass," or some "contemporary" music through which "the congregation (and each individual in it) becomes the Voice of God."

This article, by Joanna Bogle, first appeared in the Adoremus Bulletin: Online Edition in September 1998. It talks about the Brompton Oratory, which is actually the London Oratory on Brompton Road. It is one of London's Catholic landmarks, and it gives us a glimpse into how the Novus Ordo is done as it should be done. By doing so, it has the reputation to attract vast crowds. The Brompton Oratory certainly has a lesson for parishes in how to carry out liturgical reform.

The Novus Ordo Latin sung Mass every Sunday is packed with regular worshippers of all ages, visitors, inquiring Anglicans, and wistful we-come-when-we-can-and-wish-it-could-be-more-often refugees from parishes across London and the South of England.

The Mass is celebrated facing God. The clergy wear beautiful Roman vestments and birettas. The liturgy follows fully and exactly the rubrics of the Church, complete with incense, genuflections, bowing, and the correct and exact wording of every prayer and Scripture reading. Nothing is altered into feminist language. No substitutes are made for the ritual and gestures prescribed by the Church. There is no "Good morning, everyone and wasn't that a wonderful result at the football last night?" There is no sudden decision to omit an important prayer or substitute something more chatty and informal. At the Consecration the reverence that sweeps the church is tangible. At the Elevation the bell of the church is tolled to tell London of the mystery enacted in its presence, while the bell at the altar sings out the simultaneous message to the congregation. At Communion, when priests bring the Hosts down to the second Communion rail (there are huge crowds) halfway down the Church, a cascade of genuflections precede them as everyone sinks to their knees in the presence of the Blessed Sacrament. Mass has an unhurried pace. There is a sense that it is worth spending time with God.

[Via Recovering Choir Director]

Archbishop Piero Marini, the Master of Papal Liturgical Celebrations, gives us some insight into how the Holy Father himself has implemented liturgical reform. Although listening to what he says can sometimes be nuanced and open to interpretation, watching what he does manifests more clearly his mind on the subject.

What has changed in the liturgy since the Council? Is it only a question of a diversity of cultures, of tastes, sensitivity, colours and greater freedom in performing rites and applying rubrics? Has only the exterior array changed in accordance with changing aesthetic tastes? Today in the Church we find various tendencies: some want a more horizontal liturgy, a community event marked by participation, others prefer a more vertical and detached liturgy. On the one hand we have parish liturgies, on the other we have liturgies celebrated by movements and by those attached to the Tridentine Mass, who mourn the passing of Gregorian chant. Is there a boundary between aesthetic emotion and an authentic sense of the spiritual? Is a beautiful liturgy one which satisfies the tastes of consumers? The liturgy is not a consumer good; it is not the Church's supermarket! We know it is first and foremost the work of God, adoration, reception, bestowal. Hence we must ask ourselves what are the fundamental criteria for the beauty of the liturgy, apart from trends and tastes. It would be a great error simply to apply secular standards of aesthetic taste to the liturgy...

Beauty in the liturgy always calls for some renunciation on our part: we must renounce banality, over-imagination, extravagance. Moreover, the liturgy must be given the time and space it needs. We must not be in a hurry. Rather than taking the initiative, we must allow God the freedom to speak to us and reach us through his Word, through prayer, gestures, music, song, light, incense, fragrances. Like a musical composition, the liturgy needs space, time, silence, detachment from ourselves, so that words, gestures and signs may speak to us of God.

Even the much knocked about idea of liturgical participation does not escape his grasp. The reductionist view of participation, common to much of the reform movement to date, must be broadened for liturgical renewal to achieve its intended goal.

Active participation: During the first stage of the implementation of the reform, participation assumed a mainly exterior and didactic aspect, which later often degenerated to a sort of over-participation, at all costs and in every manner. The liturgy is not the sum of the emotions of a group of persons and much less a receptacle for personal feelings. It is above all time and space to interiorise the words we listen to and the sounds we hear in the liturgy, to make our own the actions performed, to assimilate the texts recited and sung, to let ourselves be penetrated by the images seen and the fragrances smelt.

[Via Summa Minutiae]

This quote, posted by Maggie, comes from
An Introduction to Gregorian Chant by Richard L. Crocker. In it, the author describes the effect of "recto tono", or a reciting pitch, on the human listener.

"When a solo voice intones a prayer, or a reading from Scripture, on a reciting pitch, the intonation on a single pitch can result in extreme resonance. The natural ability of the human voice to speak directly to our inner hearing is maximized with intonation and the resonance that it brings. This has a special application in Christian worship: when expressed by a strong clear solo voice, with the resonance reinforced by cathedral reverberation, this kind of intonation can penetrate the listener's heart, seeming to convey the truth of the words of doctrine.

"While a solo voice on a reciting pitch has the power to penetrate the listener's understanding, the sound of a chorus does not so much penetrate as envelop, gathering up the listener into a larger unity. The sound of the whole congregation intoning in unison is like no other musical experience. Unison singing by everyone is not just a 'symbol' of being together, it is an archebype, a primary experience of being together, one of which other experiences may be symbols.

"When psalms are sung this way in a reverberant acoustic space such as a cathedral, the reciting pitch builds up a very great resonance -- especially if the singers find the reciting pitch specific to that building, the particular pitch that resonates most strongly in it. As the sound continues minute after minute, it permeates the whole space and everyone in it. The walls reverberate, the building itself seems to reproduce the tone. Certain medieval churches have this effect to a remarkable degree, and recordings have been made that show an extreme development of the overtones produced by such resonance."

[Via Random Light]

In this recent article by Arlene Oost-Zinner and Jeffrey Tucker, as published in the May 2004 issue of Crisis Magazine, we read of "Fourteen Easy Ways to Improve the Liturgy". Once the progressives have brought out all the tools in their kit, there will inevitably be repetition. It takes a great deal of time and energy to keep novelty up to par. Once the point is made that Mass is going to be "exciting", the expectation will be in place, and thus the liturgists then need to deliver - each week - an exceedingly difficult task. Eventually, some sort of routine must prevail. That's when the problems begin.

Boredom during liturgy is something all Catholics have felt from time to time, and it is never justifiable. No matter how mundane the architecture, how dull the homily, or how bad the music, what is taking place on the altar is a miraculous sacrifice that gives us grace to obtain salvation. That reality should be enough to gain and keep our attention, and keep us actively participating through prayer.

[Via St. Cecilia Schola Cantorum]

Personally, I found this recent series of articles on "Morality in Music" very insightful and informative. At minimum, it gives us a vocabulary, that we might speak more intelligently about those things we already intuitively know are right, or that we prefer. At this point, I wanted to drive home a few more points, using the articles as a basis, which I thought were implied but not stated explicitly.

I am stating here what I believe to be a reasoned justification for plain chant accompanied by the pipe organ as the primary expression of liturgical music, in accordance with the Second Vatical Council. Of course, others may disagree, although it's pretty tough to do so without rejecting the will of the Council Fathers, as well as the general argument that has been laid out in the series: that all music has an inherent moral quality. Thus, it can truly be said that, as with moral choices, there is music which is "good" and music which is "evil".

In this last in a series of six articles, Father Basil Nortz adds more weight to the argument that "...good music disposes man to virtue whereas bad music disposes man to vice. The music generally accepted by a civilization will profoundly determine its moral health, and ultimately its growth or demise. It is important to note that philosophers do not say that music produces virtue or vice, but rather disposes one for the acquisition of one or the other. " But how is this accomplished? Intuitively, we can see that repeated exposure to any message, especially when voluntary, presents a compeling force which urges the listener to take on the message and make it personal.

[Via Recovering Choir Director]

In this next article in the series, William Kilpatrick further substantiates the fundamental intuition that:

Music can play a positive role in moral development by creating sensual attractions to goodness, or it can play a destructive role by setting children on a temperamental path that leads away from virtue... We can start our discussion of this effect with the common observation that we tend to learn something more easily and indelibly if it’s set to a rhyme or song... If Johnny can be taught to read through rhyme and song, might he also begin to learn right and wrong in the same way?

[Via Recovering Choir Director]

We now proceed from a discussion of some of the basic building blocks of music: pitch, dissonance and timbre, and begin to pull these concepts together. In this article, John E. Peters proposes "to show that there exists morality in music and that it exists in degrees. This will be argued primarily from music being a language of emotions, and from the huge factor it plays in affecting our souls and forming our characters." Since music is an universal language, we ought to look more deeply into its purpose.

[Via Recovering Choir Director]

In this next article in the series, Erik discusses another fundamental concept in music - the "tone", or what we might musically describe as "pitch".

So, if a vibration moves in a pure pattern of up/down over time, the result is always a sine wave (that roly-poly paradigm of regularity). This sine wave is the purest expression of tone. A sine tone sounds excessively pure. In fact, because it is so rarely found in nature, it is sometimes difficult for us to grasp which pitch the tone is. We are used to dirtier sounds, with multiple layers of sound energy at different pitches and different energy levels.

[Via Recovering Choir Director]

As Mother's Day approaches, I stumbled across this column by Maggie Gallagher. In one way, not being a mother, I have no business ruminating on what they want. But, from a paternal perspective, this one still hit pretty close to home.

According to [Phillip] Longman, "The desire for large families is much stronger among (the younger) age group than among older generations." Among Gen-X Americans (ages 18-29), a stunning 42 percent want at least three children. Among their boomer parents (age 50-64), just 29 percent consider three or more children ideal.

Amid all the doubts and worries young women face when it comes to combining not just work, but life and family, too few forces stand up for the seemingly senseless inner voice inside married women that says: I want (another) baby. It makes no economic sense. It won't help my career. It's enormously inefficient.

It's just the greatest thing in the world.

Happy Mother's Day.

[Via Maggie Gallagher]

In this continuing examination of morality in music, Erik proceeds to discuss the concept of "timbre" or "tone color" of music.

The big problem with timbre is that it is incredibly complex. Basically a note is built on a fundamental pitch and a series of overtones, all of which add to the quality of the sound. The overtones are part of the harmonic series and can be described in terms of number (e.g. fundamental plus the first fifth overtones). White noise (a random distribution of sound throughout the audible range) and pink noise (random distribution of sound in specific sectors of the audible range, often excluding the highs and lows) also have a place in describing timbre (for instance, a breathy tone is one in which noise is clearly audible, often with its own overlapping envelope to the envelope of the note itself – think of Stan Getz’s Brazilian recordings).

The complexities required to have a detached discussion of the subject are painfully obvious. But I believe that at least a cursory glance at the details of what he has provided will give us an appreciation of the terms of reference.

[Via Recovering Choir Director]

While perusing past entries of the Recovering Choir Director, I happened to stumble upon this post by Erik Keilholtz. Here, Erik wades into deep waters, probing the question of the inherent morality in different kinds of music.

Music is a complicated matter, and what I have written here barely scratches the surface of what one needs to know to be informed what is at stake. This post, then, is my introduction. I am currently working on a gigantic work on the Theology of Art, and a third of it is dedicated to music (painting and bullfighting make up the rest, at least for now, although food seems to be on the sidelines taunting me, daring me to ignore it).

I figure that anyone who can, with a straight face, put bullfighting in the same artistic category as music and painting, must necessarily have an unique and interesting perspective. No offense intended against that contingent of my blog readership with an affinity toward the sport.

In this first entry, Erik gives us a foundational understanding of the concept of "dissonance", which is critical to the understanding of the larger topic at hand.

[Via Recovering Choir Director]

I believe this is an important topic, in light of recent discussion and apparently wide disagreement on what exactly sacred music is. Some think that anything that gets played at Mass long enough to breed familiarity must then necessarily become appropriate, and by extension, sacred. To the contrary, I am convinced that there is a definable characteristic of those forms of music we can truly call "sacred", and so I set out to search for others who could better express what I have in mind.

With a bit of surfing on the topic, I came up with what I plan will be a six part series of articles on morality in music. I hope you enjoy it. Thanks to the Recovering Choir Director, whose archives have provided the incentive to get me started.

[Via Recovering Choir Director]

In this article, which is from the May/June 1999 issue of Eutopia, we read of another liturgical musician who, having awoken from his slumber, alerts others to some of the pitfalls of contemporary liturgical musicaianship.

Firstly, I noticed how the author describes forms of music that are not appropriate for Mass.

Performing dance music, or singing a Broadway tune at Mass, for example, even if the text is impeccable, is by the nature of sacred music inappropriate. Sometimes, even an entire style of music must be proscribed from the Divine Worship: Piano music in the bar-room style has such strong connotations in many people's mind that to admit this style into the liturgy would be inappropriate.

Then, I was pleased to find agreement with my previous post, on why the choir should be placed in the loft.

Having the cantor stand in front of the congregation, facing them, and "invite" them to join in the liturgical singing, should be avoided if possible; it is intensely distracting and musically unnecessary. In fact, if it can be arranged, it is often best to have all of the musicians behind the congregation, as an added musical support, and to prevent distraction from the primary action of the Mass, which is the Sacrifice at the altar. There is great benefit in the choir-loft placement of musicians.

In this entry and its continuation from the Pontificator, an Anglican blogger, we have some poorly-known facts about the historical orientation of the altar, and a pointed suggestion regarding what Catholics ought to be doing.

The early Church, therefore, did not know our contemporary practice where the priest faces the congregation for the Supper. Throughout Christendom, priest and congregation faced God together. This was the universal practice for centuries and is continued, as one would expect, in the churches of Orthodoxy. I was shocked when I discovered this. I first emailed my liturgics professor and pointed out to him the passage in the Jungmann book where eastward orientation is discussed. He remarked, I've always found that section baffling. Hmmm. I then wrote to a well-respected liturgist and asked him about the versus populum propaganda of the past thirty years. He replied, "We've been lying to you!" He went on to explain that the liturgists in the 60's and 70's simply had not done their homework. They were so caught up in the vision of the Church as a community gathered around the Table for the sacred meal that they simply assumed that the president would have faced everyone.

And here, the author takes off the gloves, rightfully questioning the seemingly arbitrary innovation.

Consequently, it seems silly for liturgists to hanker back to the good ole days of the Apostles, seeking to recapture the bliss and good feelings of those cozy domestic Suppers. But that is precisely what I think was going on since the sixties. All of us who have been trained in post-Vatican II liturgics have been indoctrinated in the ideology of the Eucharist as meal, combined with a depreciation of the sacrificial dimension of the liturgy.

Let's pray that, after the recent instruction, this is the next logical step in correcting senseless errors propagated in the post-Conciliar period.

[Via Dappled Things]

Based on this post at St. Cecilia Schola Cantorum, I'd say there appears to be good reason to hope that the liturgical winds in the American Catholic Church are indeed changing for the better.

The OCP is now offering recordings of chant alongside its other audio products. This alone is a wonderful development, even a breakthrough. It is offering the book Western Plainchant by David Hiley, a wonderful scholarly resource, as well as Chant Made Simple by Robert M. Fowells, published in 2000 as a clear and practical introduction. But here is the change that is most notable. It is, for the first time, now offering and promoting materials from the chant tradition... With the concession of the OCP to offer Solesmes publications, however, the potential reach of this music into our parishes has taken a huge leap forward. Why is OCP doing this? In response to our query, OCP editor Michael Prendergast cites three considerations: "recent Roman documents," renewed interest, and the desire to satisfy customers.

That is indeed a good sign. It is the most concrete proof yet that, on a large scale, there is a movement toward those things traditional. And what more objective way to acknowledge this than through an organization who has a vested interest in anticipating such trends?

[Via St. Cecilia Schola Cantorum]

The Recovering Choir Director picked up on this discussion of the Confiteor. The original article is by Father McNamara. But actually, I placed a link here because I am more interested in Mr. Muller's comments, which I always find both informative and entertaining.

[Via Recovering Choir Director]