Posted on 10/24/2006 8:23:05 AM PDT by Dumb_Ox
In recent times the Church has developed uneasy relations with its musicians. Growing up in the 1960s and 70s I was aware of a creeping separation between my serious engagement with the study of music, the application and practice of assiduously honed skills, and what the Church seemed to need and want for its liturgy.
I soon discovered that most serious Catholic musicians were being repulsed by an increasingly rigid misinterpretation of the Second Vatican Council’s reforms on music. Clergy and “liturgists” began expressing a scarcely veiled disdain for the very expertise and learning that musicians had sought to acquire. Serious musicians were more and more caricatured as elitists, reactionaries and Tridentinists by a new philistinism in the Church. Many of those who were not subdued into a state of quietism defected to Anglican and Lutheran parishes where their skills as organists, choral directors and singers were greatly appreciated.
These other churches now regard the Catholic Church as having engaged in a cultural vandalism in the 1960s and 70s – a destructive iconoclasm which wilfully brought to an end any remnant of its massive choral tradition and its skilful application to liturgical use. In short, music in the Catholic Church is referred to with sniffs of justified derision by these other denominations which have managed to maintain high standards of music-making in their divine services.
Is this negativity justified, and if so, how did this sorry state of affairs come about? Discussions of this issue usually throw up divided opinions about the state of Catholic liturgy before the 1960s. Reform certainly seems to have been overdue. The pre-conciliar liturgy by all accounts seems to have been a ritualised expression of the moribundity that had so calcified the Church. We were certainly ready for the rejuvenating breath of the Holy Spirit to cleanse, renew and refresh every aspect of Catholicism in the modern age. However, even although the pre-conciliar liturgical experience could be an alienating endurance for some, others speak fondly of how widespread the practice of choral singing was, even in the most lowly provincial parish. Performance of major composers, from Palestrina to Mozart, seems to have been natural practice from Aberdeen to Kilmarnock, from Glasgow to Cumnock.
The Second Vatican Council was certainly not the beginning of the Church’s desire in recent times to improve musico-liturgical practice. The Church has worried away at the question of appropriate music for centuries, dating back to its earliest days. The constant centrality in the Roman rite, though, since these days has been the chant. The motivation of the Church, since the mid-19th century, to re-establish a more fully authentic liturgical life has been wrapped up with a concern for the chant.
In 1903 Pope Pius X issued his motu proprio on sacred music. Gregorian is not the only form of the chant that has been used by the churches. One need only look to the Anglicans or to Byzantium to see the shadings of a great multiplicity. There is also great potential for new forms to suit the vernacular liturgies. Gelineau and Taizé are the most obvious examples of how the modern church can respond to its great musical calling.
Although Pius was aware of the plurality of the chant, he nevertheless stressed that the attributes of holiness, goodness of form and universality were pre-eminently embodied in Gregorian chant. Since then it has been regarded as the paradigmatic form of Catholic liturgical music. Pius’s words speak of its classic nature: “The more closely a church composition approaches plain chant in movement, inspiration and feeling, the more holy and liturgical it becomes; and the more out of harmony it is with this supreme model, the less worthy it is of the temple. Special efforts should be made to restore the use of Gregorian chant by the people so that the faithful may again take a more active part in the ecclesiastical offices, as was the case in ancient times.”
The chant, Gregorian or otherwise, has cropped up in recent news stories about Pope Benedict’s hopes and fears for the Church’s liturgy. As to be expected, the media have given these stories a spin of bogus controversy and have traduced the Pontiff’s words and motivation. “An end to modern worship music” and “Pope abolishes Vatican’s Christmas pop concert” are two such headline examples. A number of liberal liturgists have rushed to condemn Benedict’s “cultural authoritarianism” and have found willing accomplices in the institutionally anti-Catholic BBC and other media outlets. The Pope is presented as a stern-faced, party-pooping disciplinarian, stamping out electric guitars, pop-crooning, and the sentimental, bubble-gum “folk” music used in many of today’s Catholic churches. Consequently we will now all have to “endure” his much-loved Mozart, Tallis, Byrd and Latin plainsong. The people queuing up to attack the Pope are the very ones who were responsible for the banal excrescences enforced on us in the name of “democratisation of the liturgy” and “active participation” over the last few decades. They claim that the Pope is forcing through a narrow, one-dimensional vision of liturgy, and imply that chant is beyond the capabilities of ordinary people. They are wrong on both counts.
First, Benedict has been quite clear that updating sacred music is eminently possible but “it should not happen outside the traditional path of Gregorian chants or sacred polyphonic choral music”.
Clearly, there are living composers who know and respect this tradition and context and can allow their contemporary work to be infused by it, and there are other composers who don’t and can’t. It is quite straightforward to understand with whom the Church can and should be working. Secondly, congregations in and outside the Catholic Church have been singing chant in Latin and in the vernacular for centuries. In Britain, the monumental efforts to keep alive the plainchant tradition over the last century have not been nurtured by the authorities. When Plainsong for Schools was published in 1933 it sold over a 100,000 copies in the first 18 months. The Society of St Gregory organised regional chant festivals throughout the land and held summer schools. Between 1937 and 1939 congregations of 2,000 and more met at Westminster Cathedral and sang the Ordinarium Missae from the Kyriale, with a schola of male amateurs singing the Proper. This shows what can and what could still be done.
There is a new momentum building in the Church which could be directed to bringing about this new, creative “reform of the reform”. Part of that momentum comes from a widespread disgust at what was described recently as “aisle-dancing and numbskull jogging for Jesus choruses at Mass”. The days of embarrassing, maudlin and sentimental dirges such as “Bind us together Lord” and “Make me a channel of your peace” may indeed be numbered. Are we seeing the end days for overhead projectors, screaming microphones and fluorescent lighting and their concomitant music, complete with incompetently strummed guitars and cringe-making, smiley, cheesy folk groups? The American writer Thomas Day describes this kind of liturgy as “a diet of romantic marshmallows indigestibly combined with stuff that grabs you by the scruff of the neck and shakes you into submission with its social message”. “What was the rationale of such music?” asked John Ainslie, one-time secretary of the Society of St Gregory, writing in the 1970s. “Many well-intentioned nuns, teachers and later priests thought that such ‘folk music’ would appeal to teenagers and young people generally and so encourage them to participate in the Liturgy instead of walk out from it.
“The term ‘folk music’ is, of course, misleading. There is nothing, for example, to link it with the English folk-song tradition... The name was no doubt coined partly because some of the early repertoire was imported from the United States, where it might have been called folk music with some justification, partly because it was felt that the style had something in common with the musical tastes of today’s younger generation and their sub-culture. But it has never been persuasively shown that whatever young people may find attractive to listen to in a disco, they will find attractive to sing in church.
“Further, the style is unsuitable for singing by large congregations... more so if the only accompaniment provided is a guitar rather than the organ, since guitars, even amplified, have insufficient ‘bite’ to keep a whole congregation singing together and to give them the support they have come to expect from the organ.” Liturgy as social engineering has probably repulsed more people from the modern Catholic Church than any of the usual list of “social crimes” trotted out by the Church’s critics. Like most ideas shaped by 1960s Marxist sociology, it has proved an utter failure. Its greatest tragedy is the wilful, de-poeticisation of Catholic worship. Our liturgy was hi-jacked by opportunists who used the vacuum created by the Council to push home a radical agenda of de-sacralisation and, ultimately, secularisation. The Church has simply aped the secular West’s obsession with “accessibility”, “inclusiveness”, “democracy” and “anti-elitism”. The effect of this on liturgy has been a triumph of bad taste and banality and an apparent vacating of the sacred spaces of any palpable sense of the presence of God. The jury is still out on any “social gains” achieved by the Church as a result. It may be timely and sobering to reflect on what we have lost.
In the early 1970s Victor Turner, the cultural anthropologist, wrote of the old Roman rite: “One advantage of the traditional Latin ritual was that it could be performed by the most diverse groups and individuals, surmounting the divisions of age, sex, ethnicity, culture, economic status, or political affiliation.
“The liturgy stands out as a magnificent objective creation if the will to assist both lovingly and well was there. Now one fears that the tendentious manipulation of particular interest-groups is liquidating the ritual bonds which held the entire heterogeneous mystical body together in worship.”
In the light of this, the reformed liturgy can be seen as yet another glaring failure by the Leftists in the Church to deliver, even according to their own agenda. It was not meant to be like this. Reading the Sacrosanctum Concilium, the Council’s document on the liturgy, one realises just how much the spirit of true reform has been betrayed by the wilful misdirection of liturgical activists in recent times:
“Servers, readers, commentators, and members of the choir also exercise a genuine liturgical function. They ought, therefore, to discharge their offices with the sincere piety and decorum demanded by so exalted a ministry and rightly expected of them by God’s people.” (Sacrosanctum Concilium [SC] Chapter 3, Section 29)
“The treasury of sacred music is to be preserved and cultivated with great care. Choirs must be assiduously developed.” (SC, Chapter 6, Section 14)
“The faithful are also to be taught that they should try to raise their mind to God through interior participation as they listen to the singing of ministers or choir.” (Musicam Sacram, Part 2, Section 14)
“Because of the liturgical ministry it exercises, the choir should be mentioned here explicitly. The conciliar norms regarding reform of the liturgy have given the choir’s function greater prominence and importance. Therefore: (a) Choirs are to be developed with great care, especially in cathedrals and other major churches, in seminaries and in religious houses of study. (b) In smaller churches as well a choir should be formed, even if there are only a few members.” (MS, Part 2, Section 19)
“The Church recognises Gregorian Chant as being specially suited to the Roman liturgy. Therefore it should be given pride of place in liturgical services.” (SC, Chapter 6, Section 116)
“Other kinds of music, especially polyphony are by no means excluded.” (SC, Chapter 6, Section 116) “The pipe organ is to be held in high esteem in the Latin Church, for it is the traditional musical instrument, the sound of which can add a wonderful splendour to the Church’s ceremonies and powerfully lifts up men’s minds to God and higher things.” (SC, Chapter 6, Section 120) “Pastors should see to it that, in addition to the vernacular, the faithful are also able to say or to sing together in Latin those parts of the Ordinary of the Mass belonging to them.” (MS, Part 2, Section 47)
It is clear, therefore, that Vatican II did not abolish choirs, the great choral tradition, Gregorian chant, organs, prayerful liturgy, or even Latin. In fact as the documents make clear here, all these things are positively encouraged. So who did abolish them?
Do not post private messages on the open forum.
But you've neglected to mention the list of things that you do along with this "in our heart" bit. You DO sing and make melody in your heart, in a building, while wearing clothes, with artificial climate control, in harmony, in a mixed-gender setting, along with your children, on Sunday morning or Wednesday evening...
But that's rather beside the point. You'll never concede, because you find the very idea threatening. Very well, I don't mean to make you feel threatened.
If you really believe that somehow Christ's death and resurrection made God quit liking the music of the harp and the lyre, the timbrel, the horns, and the drums, and that these are now forbidden for worship...well, far be it from me to try to change your mind on that point. I don't mind praying for the Lord to deliver us each from our ignorance, however. =]
I have already covered the difference between an expedient and an addition.
You've certainly applied those labels, but never gave any kind of rationale for why they applied.
It's all right. May there be peace between us.
"What on earth is "Bionic Son" ?"
Maybe you don't want to know. You can listen to it here:
http://www.spiritandsong.com/jukebox/songs/67147
Or imagine a dance/rock beat, fuzzy guitars, sappy synthesizers and these lyrics:
Well I heard a story just the other day, about a man of God and all the people say,
this mighty man of God was a fisherman.
Then I heard a story about a man named Saul,
who's zeal and hate brought fear to all,
until his fall from pride changed this man that we know as Paul.
Do you know it's true? He can change you too!
If you love, you will feed my sheep. He said to me.
If you love, you will feed my sheep; unconditionally.
Chorus
Hold on as tight as you can, we're gonna blast upon this land
With a supersonic kind of love, dripping from God's Bionic Son!
Then I heard a story about a man who died for the things I did
T o change what's inside, transforming everyone with Gospel news.
If the Great I Am can heal a fisherman, and the God of Peace can change a Pharisee,
Then I know His love can change a man like you, and a man like me.
Do you know it's true? He can change you too!
Interlude
Chorus
I understand the distinction that you're trying to draw, but for the life of me I cannot grasp how you mean to apply it to the example you cite. How is it that singing along with an instrument "adds to a command," but singing in a polyester sweater is merely an expedient?
It seems to me that your distinction is an awfully thin one to hang a doctrine on.
I will use your example. If I am wearing a polyester sweater and singing praises to God, I am still just singing praises to God. However, if I am playing a mechanical instrument and singing, then I am both singing praises to God, and playing an instrument. Those are two different types of music. There is one specified in the command, and that is singing.
Now we've run the distinction into the ground, and I still fail to get it. I think that makes it time to give it up.
Here is another point that should make the difference even clearer. In Ephesians 5:19, we see the phrase "speaking to yourselves". In Colossians 3:16, we see the phrase "teaching and admonishing one another". Mechanical instruments are unable to speak, teach, or admonish.
Also please notice that "yourselves" and "one another" are reflexive pronouns. This means that everyone is to be doing the speaking, teaching, and admonishing.
Well, of course they are...yet we certainly use mechanical devices as aids for teaching, speaking, and admonishing. Such as now, you and I conversing via computer and network.
This process isn't invalidated because computers are involved, is it?
You know that I am speaking about mechanical instruments of music.
Yes, I do.
And I'm asking you, what's the difference between using musical instruments for worshiping, and using electronic devices for teaching/preaching/admonishing?
Don't both of these modify a New Testament command?
No, they do not. Once again, there is a difference between a specific command and a generic command. We are commanded to sing in worship. Using mechanical instruments of music adds to that command because it is a different type of music, and the other reasons I have shown.
We are also commanded to spread the Gospel to every nation. The medium we use, be it preaching in an assembly or publishing articles on the internet, does not add to or take away from the command.
This distinction of yours simply escapes me.
sorry. #232 meant for ALL
Suppose you are a mechanic, and I come to you and ask you to change the oil in my car. After a couple of hours, you come get me and tell me that you changed the oil, replaced the brake pads, and rotated the tires. Did you do as I asked? By what authority did you do the extra things?
And if he did all those things simply because he loved you and didn't charge you for them, would you complain?
You're analogies really are disconnected.
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