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  • Singing Lessons

    by Robert A. Skeris

    This essay first appeared in the September 1996 issue of Crisis Magazine.

    The Mass is the very core of the Catholic liturgy, the supremely important expression of the Church’s faith. It is clear that a skewed concept of the Mass that fails to do justice to its essence will in due time harm the believer’s piety and undermine the faith of communicants. Sacred music is a necessary and integral part of the solemn liturgy. Since form is an inner expression of the spiritual reality in the Mass, music too will be affected by any shift of emphasis regarding the form of the Divine Liturgy.

    In 1990 John Paul II told the Brazilian bishops, “Legitimate and necessary concern for current realities in the concrete lives of the 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.”

    Even more pointed are the words addressed by the Holy Father to our own American prelates gathered in Chicago in 1979: “Let us always recall that the validity of all liturgical development and the effectiveness of every liturgical sign presupposes the great principle that the Catholic liturgy is theocentric, and that it is above all ‘the worship of divine majesty’ in union with Jesus Christ.”

    It is a fact that every liturgical celebration, “because it is an action of Christ the Priest and of His Body, which is the Church,” is a sacred action surpassing all others. Hence liturgical music, including that provided for the congregation, must be holy. As Pius X phrased it, sacred music must be “free from all that is profane, both in itself and in the method of performance.”

    It is a fact that liturgical music is an integral part of the liturgy itself, not merely a means to assist or enrich worship. It is worship itself, like color to a sunset, like thought to the mind. Sacred music is not like prayer; it is prayer. Sacred music raises the mind and heart to God, and not only to our neighbor.
    The Mass and the Sacred
    Agere sequitur esse — a thing acts as it is. If the Mass is indeed a sacrifice, then logically one of its integral and necessary parts will be sacred music. But if a social gathering or a fraternal meal is actually being celebrated, then very different music will be appropriate: a “polka Mass,” for instance, or the sacro-pop purveyed by the church music industry of the day.

    And let no one be deceived by the growing doubt affecting the very concept of the sacred. Many believe that the term “profane” is quite out of date. Thus, the opposite horn of the dilemma, the sacred, has lost its importance, has been secularized, and so rendered indistinguishable from its opposite.

    There are men and there are things; there are persons and there are objects. There are also principalities and powers; there are thrones and dominations. Theologians and moralists are familiar with virtues and vices; philosophers know qualities and modes of being. But what is sacred music? What does sacred mean?

    Philosophers, anthropologists, and sociologists would probably agree with Rudolf Otto that the sacred involves the expression and attestation of reverence for something deserving respect and veneration. The conviction underlying this universal human attitude is that there exist certain pre-eminent times and places distinguished from normal life due to their exceptional dignity. Josef Pieper has reminded us that such dignity quite rightly demands from men special forms of respect because certain specific objects, spaces, times, and actions are ordered to the divine sphere. Thus we can comprehend the boundary separating the sacred from the profane. Profane simply means the unexceptional, that which belongs to the realm of the normal, the average, the everyday.

    A “preeminently sacred action,” then, will be simply the accomplishment of an action, performed by a community in a nonordinary way. Let us be very precise: We are speaking here of celebrating the eucharistic mysteries during which there occurs the Exceptional par excellence — God’s physical presence among men under the forms of bread and wine. Nothing could be more obvious to a man of faith than to act differently within such a circumscribed context, differently than he acts, for instance, on the tennis courts or at the supermarket. One speaks a language that is obviously human, yet different – in delivery, in style, in diction and grammar, in vocabulary.

    What of the sacred music, which forms an integral part of this sacred action? 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?

     

    Choosing a Hymnal
    The pastoral question is simply put: How does one start singing again? No one doubts that there is a recurrent need to satisfy a present and urgent demand. Though many churchmen purchase wisely but perhaps not well, they all too often can justly point out, especially today, that there is little of value to buy. Pastors are kicking hard at the earth, attempting to gain momentum.

    These pastoral ministers are not about to remain passive. They have caught the fever, and this is one fever they will not starve; they feed it with any food at hand. Much of this is informal music, music that makes people feel “warm and cuddly.” The informed observer who some years ago noted that a steady diet of such music can be compared to a steady diet of sugar-coated cereal for a youngster was quite correct in foreseeing the deleterious effects that have followed.

    If the pastor is clear as to what he is about and arranges his priorities accordingly, then a singing congregation can become a reality.

    Such a pastor will pay the living wage necessary to support the qualified professional personnel who are required. He will see to providing an adequate musical instrument (such as a pipe organ) to sustain the song of choir and congregation. Also, he will try his best to become the singing celebrant whose contribution is essential to the dignified and worthy celebration of the sacred liturgy. And if he has a school within his jurisdiction, the pastor will insist upon an adequate program of music instruction designed to develop the basic skills of music for children and adults.

    Finally, the pastor will provide for his flock suitable aids for musical participation. Chief among these is a good parish hymnal. These hymnals do, in fact, still exist! Thomas Day’s 1990 autopsy on the triumph of bad taste in Catholic culture — Why Catholics Can’t Sing – proffered some good advice in this respect. A goodly number of reliable experts would agree with Day that among the best hymnals available today are Worship III, for example, or the Collegeville Hymnal. And one hears with satisfaction that the great noble lion of the newer Catholic hymnals in the United States, Hymns, Psalms and Spiritual Canticles, may soon be reprinted by a reputable college press. That would be a very positive step in the right direction, for this book, which contains all the music for any service that a normal parish would need, has one great advantage: The homogeneous style of its contents makes for instant learning of new musical settings.

    The problem with many of the other products on the market today is simply that they reflect the invasion of the Church by the current popular culture. The dismaying result in most instances is that the Church, instead of penetrating and transforming the culture of the modern world, has itself been transformed into a reflection and often a representation of the antitranscendental milieu of that culture.

    Another strong influence upon the pastoral judgment of a parish priest who attempts the rebirth of song is the currently fashionable wave of ecumenism and multiculturalism, influences that often are believed to justify the use of hymns strongly associated with traditions alien to our Catholic religious and cultural heritage. A hymn is intended to be the prayerful response of the singing congregation to the words and wonderful works of God. It is a question here of the authenticity of religious expression. Hymns with vaguely religious (if not outright erroneous) or noncommittal texts and songs that are textually or melodically sentimental cannot contribute to the healthy edification and formation of a community.

    Plainly, since any truly living church music is continually developing, it is situated in the midst of all the tensions of a given age. As liturgical art, church music is obliged to conform to ecclesiastical law. But to construct artificial polarities here, between legalistic order and a dynamic church music, demanded by the alleged needs of the day, would be to forsake the foundation of a music rooted in liturgical experience. What is in fact the pastoral value of the shoddy, the profane, the third-rate?

    It is not the music in itself that determines the distinction between sacred and profane, but rather its expression and the soil in which it develops, along with its interpretation or signification in the act of being received by the congregation – in short, its associations. It is not sufficient if the music merely serves as an expression of the community’s (perhaps secular) life.

    For the future, we are faced with the agony of educating talented musicians, composers, and conductors – as well as priests and people. This present time is late spring, yet surely seminal; the harvest, a realist must admit, is in the future. But the present is no time to stand idle. Books have been written, courses are being offered, techniques and tools are already available. This eleventh hour must be filled, not with noise, but with study, teaching, and carefully wrought performance – all governed by the pastoral good sense, which recognizes degrees of participation that reflect the limits and the possibilities of a given situation.

    Our final cadence is therefore a hopeful one, even though contemporary church history, which studies the recent past, cannot escape the conclusion that the efforts made thus far toward realizing the intentions of the last Council have not produced the benefits envisioned by that sacred synod. A perceptible change will come about only through greater willingness toward interior conversion that leads to a new and more profound reflection on the spiritual level. Without this precondition, any new evangelization will experience the same fate as the Council. The true path to real change is indicated by the Apostle to the Gentiles: “Do not be conformed to this world but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that you may prove what is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and perfect.”

    The Christian Epimetheus therefore says, “Say not the struggle availeth naught.” The soul of all culture is and will remain the culture of the soul. And that way lies our hope, which is the last gift from Pandora’s box.

    The views expressed by the authors and editorial staff are not necessarily the views of
    Sophia Institute, Holy Spirit College, or the Thomas More College of Liberal Arts.

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    • G.

      Skeris writes: “The problem with many of the other products on the market today is simply that they reflect the invasion of the Church by the current popular culture.”

      In many cases, we’re several decades behind, in part because the music is often further downhill from the first wave of “modern” hymns.

      As with architecture, the trend has been toward an almost militant simplification. No big words. Three chords. You can’t string two thoughts together. Repetitive, mantra-like hymns are proliferating.

      The exception, of course, is the responsorial psalm, where musical settings often seem to strive for angularity, dissonance, and non-resolutions (also like the architecture). Novelty for novelty’s sake.

      But those who sought to replace the supposedly tired old canon of pre-Vatican II hymns in the name of “progress” have in many parishes replaced a timeless repertory with a snapshot of the decade that brought us the Ford Pinto, the ’70s.

    • Elizabeth

      The responsorial psalm and other sung prayers are my pet peeves. The musical settings are dissonant, un-singable, and oftentimes downright ugly. They really detract from the beauty of the words being sung. Surely someone can write better music than that.

    • Cord Hamrick

      There are various problems. One of them is insoluble.

      Bad Modern Hymns

      Most of the hymns written for Catholics between 1945 and 1985 are hideous, treacly things chock full of sleepy, saccharine Major 7 chords and nursery-school melodic simplicity. Their lyrical content is uniformly shallow, anti-theological, self-centered, devoid of worship, devoid of prayer, and therapeutic in nature.

      They are the auditory equivalent of those late-Renaissance paintings of angels, in which, rather than being startling figures radiating power like lightning, the angels look like slightly flaky young women in flimsy nightshirts. To paraphrase C.S.Lewis: In the Bible, an angel always has to say, “Fear not.” In these paintings, the angel always seems to be saying, “There, there.”

      Just so with the modern hymnody. Those milquetoasty Major 7′s are the stuff of lullabies. Those melodies are written for three-year-olds. (“I will hold your people in my heart.”) And by “heart” the author always has in mind pure sentiment devoid of intent, which is radically opposed to the Scriptural view (“As a man thinketh in his heart, so he is.”) What could be more unlike the bold, ecstatic, solemn, joyous, fierce cries of the seraphim “Holy, Holy, Holy is the Lord God Almighty, who Was and Is and Is To Come.” Does anyone think that Ezekiel’s “Four Living Creatures,” those astonishing wheels full of eyes inside and out, would be caught damned singing “Gather Us Into The Edmund Fitzgerald?”

      “Here I Am, Lord” and “Eagles’ Wings” are particularly offensive in this regard, though they are not alone. Scrap ‘em, all those too-placid therapeutic modern hymns. If one must replace them to keep up the thickness of the hymnbook, replace them with the more ancient hymns out of the better Protestant hymnals, which often feature vastly superior theology (!), and certainly feature superior rhythm, harmony, melody, and lyrical style (though that’s not saying much).

      Bad Sound System & Engineering

      I came to the Church out of the conservative Baptist and non-denominational Evangelical world, originally, as a church musician. I know whereof I speak: Catholic churches tend to have sound systems that I’d have been embarrassed to have in my college dorm room, operated by an unpaid volunteer with a hearing aid. As a result, even when the priest doesn’t have a strong foreign accent, you can’t understand him because you can’t hear him. When they try to turn him up, there’s painful feedback…which is silly because for nearly 15 years now we’ve had the technology to put a digital feedback eliminator on every microphone for $200 or less per channel.

      When I was in RCIA, I was astonished to have the director tell me that the parish I was attending was the Catholic version of a “megachurch” (six thousand registered families, five masses per weekend). I was astonished, because the facility was ugly, old, and poorly maintained, and the sound system was of a kind I associated with dying churches suffering under budgetary problems. The Evangelical world’s equivalent is $20,000 or more, with room treatments to reduce standing waves and reflectivity, and produces a CD-quality in nearly every seat.

      Poor Quality Musicians

      This is not true of all, of course. But I notice it most in the attempts made by some parishes at doing “contemporary praise and worship” songs.

      I frequently hear Catholics of a traditionalist stripe complain that guitars are not fit for Mass. Well, neither are violins, or voices, or pipe organs, when they’re played by first-year-student volunteers. I hear them say that they’ve heard contemporary stuff played, and know that it can never be appropriate for the liturgy. No, they haven’t heard it played, they’ve heard it butchered.

      In the Evangelical world, they get the best musicians to play, and when coupled with their sound systems, it actually sounds excellent. How do they get these musicians? Well, for starters, they pay the bandleaders $150-400 per service, and the other musicians $75-200 per service, depending on the size of the church and the quality of the musician. You get skillful folk that way.

      Of course, that gets expensive. Of course, if you’re in a church where people faithfully tithe, you can afford both to have excellent church music (and architecture, and education) and feed the poor better than the government can. (It’s the Church’s job to do that, anyway; governments step in and begin to supplant this proper role of the Church in society if and when the Church does an insufficient job.) So part of the problem with Catholic church-music is Catholic laity’s giving practices.

      …continued…

    • Cord Hamrick

      …continuing…

      Translated Texts Unsuited To English Singing

      This is the problem with Catholic worship music that is, I think, insoluble (barring the evolution of an Anglosphere rite in communion with Rome but not officially Roman-rite).

      The texts of the Gloria and various other bits of the Mass which can and ideally should be sung are translated Latin. Latin is a language with very regular cadences and word-endings as a consequence of its grammar. English, by contrast, is “the language which follows other languages into dark alleys, beats them up, and steals their vocabulary.”

      Moreover, English is a language tied to a culture, and it is a culture in which song texts are invariably rhymed and syllable-counts in matched lines of the text are invariably matched and in which metric feet are invariably regularized.

      This is not the case in all cultures. In ancient Hebrew, for example, the idea of rhyming word-endings in poetry was unimportant; Hebrew poetry was structured according to parallelism and matched concepts and the N, N+1 principle. This is helpful, because it’s the only kind of poetry which doesn’t lose much in translation: You see it in the poetical structure of the days of creation; you see it in the “four things the Lord hates; five He detests” passages in the Proverbs.

      But English is not that way. It never has been. To take the Psalms of David and set them directly to music in English, one must alter the text to find rhymes or opportunities for repetition; otherwise, the result is not only not a good English-language song, but something which is barely “music” to an English-speaking culture at all.

      So here is our problem (and before anyone gets the wrong idea, let me strongly assert that this problem has nothing to do with the fresh translation of the Roman Missal, and pre-dates it): When the Gloria and other texts are translated into English with word-for-word accuracy, they produce unsingable (in an English-speaking culture) texts. In the Latin, it’s singable, especially according to the music-text rules for Latin; in English, according to the music-text rules for English, it isn’t.

      What to do? We’ve just finished obsoleting the earlier translation of the Roman Missal, and with good reason. (If you’ve never seen Fr. Z’s myriad comparisons of the earlier ICEL translations with the original Latin and the new translation, check it out. In some cases it’s hard to fathom what the earlier translators were thinking, unless they were merely in a rush or didn’t care.)

      So we need translation accuracy. But the cultural rules of English sung music are what they are, and the words of the Latin text are what they are, and the translations which remain word-for-word faithful can only vary so much. The incompatibility is insoluble.

      I think the two best solutions are these:

      1. Keep it in Latin: We’re already disobedient to Vatican II by how little Latin we use; this is perhaps an opportunity to reintroduce it and return to the balance intended by the council.

      2. English Translations Which, When Needed, Add Or Repeat…But Do Not Subtract or Contradict: This is perilous and must, must be subject to strenuous review, and thus will certainly not happen any time soon.

      The idea is that repetition of the same word or phrase can create a kind of rhyme scheme (or symmetrical rhythm) when direct translation offers no possible rhyme (or symmetrical rhythm). And, the addition (the perilous part) of an additional word can sometimes add just the necessary metric feet to the line to correct a mismatched syllable count.

      Take for example a setting of the Gloria in which the final text “Jesus Christ, with the Holy Spirit, in the glory of God the Father, Amen” just can’t be made to fit with a decent melody, but “…together with the Holy Spirit…” would solve the problem. Or, “Jesus Christ, Son of God, with the Holy Spirit….” Or, “…in the glory, the glory of God the Father.”

      You see what I mean by perilous, and the need for review. I’ve tried just now to choose entirely innocent and orthodox alterations. But you can imagine the kinds of stuff that might be added by folk with a heterodox axe to grind. Give ‘em an inch, and they take a mile.

      So, for the time being, I think it’s either Latin, or just speaking the stuff in English. The “music” version is likely to limp along pathetically, as it has been doing.

    • Alecto Papadakoleitis

      I was fortunate to grow up in a musical family. My dad, a convert from the Orthodox church, came from a great choral tradition and played the piano. Mom sang in the choir. Our house was filled with glorious music… Chopin, Schubert, Beethoven and Mendelssohn. What most people refer to as “beautiful” music now is “My Heart Will Go On” from Titanic. And that is what they consider appropriately solemn, not Schubert’s Mass in G or Gounod’s St. Cecilia. Alas, the coarsening of the culture has found its way into Catholic ritual.

      The Catholic church has, perhaps more than any other religion, the richest, broadest and deepest treasury of sacred music written by some of the most gifted, brilliant composers in human history. I do not know what happened, but after VII, in an effort to “involve” the people, with their questionable tastes, we all noticed the gradual trend towards pedestrian guitar music played by the musically challenged. Mass should elevate people’s souls to the soaring heights of heaven, not trap them in an interminable three-chord children’s treasury of popdom. Yeah, I’m talkin’ Kumbaya baby. [insert hurl here].

      This trend in sacred music is illustrated by an episode of the Simpsons. Widowed Ned Flanders meets a Christian musician who crosses over to the pop genre. She tells him, “It’s easy. All you do is change ‘Jesus’ to ‘baby’. Out of the mouths of babes….