Myth 1. When it comes to music, there's no debating taste
Many people think that the choice of music for Mass is just up to the pastor and his musicians. Some parishes have more traditional music, others more contemporary. Many parishes have a little bit of everything under the sun.
Most Catholics know that there are laws which govern church structure and worship, but many are not aware that the popes often have set down rules for what music is admissible in church worship.
In 1967 the Vatican issued Musicam Sacram as the musical legislation binding in the Catholic Church since the Second Vatican Council.
Music for the Mass is not arbitrary. Certain texts are designed by their very nature to be sung, such as the Alleluia. Others, although they may be recited, lend themselves to congregational or choral singing, such as the responses and the ordinary texts of the Mass like the gloria.
The church does not issue blacklists stating that certain songs are prohibited, but she does offer general principles in her liturgical documents. While the treasury of sacred music is broad indeed, what is sung at Mass must be consistent not with the tastes of liturgy planners, but with the celebration itself. Bishops and pastors may rule that certain selections are inappropriate based on their content, associations, or irrelevance. Music at Mass is not based on what we like, but on what is appropriate for the celebration.
Myth 2. Music at Mass is just a nice addition; it's not like it's necessary or anything.
Vatican II’s Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy calls sacred music an integral part of the liturgy. It is not an embellishment unrelated to the rites. The verb “to sing” is one of the most frequently used words in the Bible. Christian liturgy in ancient times was always sung.
In the Eastern Churches today the entire eucharistic liturgy is sung. “Saying” Mass became popular around the Middle Ages when private Masses multiplied, such that a distinction was made even ceremonially between a Low Mass with no music or hymns and a Sung Mass where the actual texts of the Mass were set to music.
Vatican II provides for the principle of progressive solemnity. Depending on various situations, more or less of the Mass may be accompanied by music. A cathedral on Easter Sunday should be different than a private Mass on a weekday. But the church’s preference is always for sung liturgy. He who sings prays twice [He who sings WELL, actually], said St. Augustine, and the church’s prayer has inspired some of the most beautiful art and music in history.
Myth 3. Choirs are only there to support congregational singing.
In the early church, the faithful sang much of the Mass. There were, however, certain melodies and texts that developed over time that some found difficult to sing.
Choirs, or scholae cantorum, were developed with trained singers who not only supported congregational singing, but also performed some pieces on their own. Europe saw the development of famous choir schools and Catholic education has always included the teaching of music in its curricula. The advent of part-singing made choirs even more necessary to the Mass.
Choirs can be beneficial in leading the faithful in song, but they also can have their own role apart from the congregation. Active participation does not mean that everyone has to do the same things at the same time; it implies an interior participation by listening and contemplation as much as engaging in following the Mass and observing ritual gestures.
Paid professional cantors and choirs have been a part of the Catholic musical tradition for many centuries and continue to inspire Christians in their worship beyond what is accessible to the ordinary pew-singer. Vatican II explicitly urges the development of such choirs and musical education in schools.
Myth 4. We are supposed to sing four hymns at Mass.
Catholics in the United States have become used to singing a hymn at the entrance, at the offertory, during Communion and at the recessional at Sunday Mass. This “four-hymn sandwich” actually harkens back to pre-Vatican II days in which congregations who could not pull off Latin music were allowed to sing English hymns at Low Masses.
When English was allowed in the Mass and the rite of Mass changed, many parishes continued this practice, albeit often with different music. While hymns are allowed at Mass, they are not actually what the church asks for during those times.
The missal, the large book from which the priest reads the prayers at Mass, provides short scriptural sentences called antiphons for the entrance and communion. In the church’s legislation on sacred music, these antiphons have pride of place for singing in the Mass. The antiphons are intimately connected with the other prayers of each Sunday’s Mass. The church allows for substitutions with other appropriate songs, but they should be modeled in character after those antiphons.
Hymns are not a part of the Roman eucharistic liturgy; they belong more properly to the Liturgy of the Hours. The church prefers the antiphons drawn from the Bible to hymns composed by people.
Myth 5. Vatican II abolished Latin in the Mass.
Vatican II’s Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy states, “The use of the Latin language is to be preserved.” The council fathers commanded the use of Latin while allowing for some use of the vernacular.
The same document also calls for the faithful to be able to sing parts of the Mass together in Latin. Latin gives the church a universal language.
In an increasingly mobile culture of globalization, Catholics able to follow the Mass in Latin and in their own tongue can actively participate in their church anywhere in the world. The use of Latin also frees us from being too narrow-minded and too centered on our own nation or culture; it connects us with our history and paves the way for our future.
The point of Latin [one of: along with its own sacrality and beauty, which many, including Pope Paul VI recognised explicity whilst introducing the Novus Ordo] is not to make the rites impossible to understand; it is to make real the universality of the church.
One can often see people at international Masses who can all make the Latin responses and sing some things together in Latin. A powerful experience of the church’s unity is when we all sing with one voice the same words that Catholics have always sung at Mass.
Myth 6. The church does not have her own hymnal.
The Graduale Romanum is the official hymnal for the Roman rite. It contains Latin chants for the entrance, the Psalm and Gospel acclamation, the offertory and Communion, which are collectively called the Propers of the Mass, for every Mass of the year.
They also provide Latin chants for Lord have mercy, glory to God, the creed, holy holy holy and Lamb of God, collectively called the Ordinary of the Mass. Music at Mass should always refer to these texts.
What is called Gregorian chant is the music proper to the Roman rite and is the church’s own composition. Much of the music sung since ancient times was gathered by Pope St. Gregory the Great in the sixth century, and the church has amplified the texts from time to time.
The monks of Solesmes have done several critical editions of this hymnal, including one which can be used for the reformed liturgy. Pastors and musicians may provide for other music at Mass, and even develop other hymnals, but Gregorian chant has, as Vatican II tells us, pride of place in the liturgy. The Graduale Romanum is an indispensable tool for the church musician.
Myth 7. Chant is too hard for people today to sing.
There are two principal obstacles to chant today. Many people are no longer fluent enough in Latin to understand or even pronounce it properly, and even most musicians are unfamiliar with its notation.
Just as it takes practice and education to play an instrument well, it takes time and patience to learn the language and the markings of chant. There are resources for musicians to learn the chant properly, and teaching choirs and congregations chant may take time, but it will yield amazing results.
Many people sing things that are actually more difficult. Consistent effort will break down barriers and open up new possibilities for people to sing.
When Msgr. Martin Hellriegel became pastor of Holy Cross in St. Louis in the 1950s, nobody in his parish had ever heard chant. He started teaching the school children, and the adults were inspired to learn. Within a few years, his people knew several chant Masses and could sing out of the church’s official hymnal, the Graduale Romanum.
Dedication and perseverance gave the people confidence that they could sing Gregorian chant and many people today still know from memory the music they learned in the parish.
Myth 8. Music is supposed to make me feel good at Mass.[This is the biggie]
Music, especially at Mass, can be very powerful. The point of sacred music, though, is not to make us feel good. Sacred music accompanies the church’s rites to bring us beyond our own emotions and experiences to a transcendent experience of the divine.
The haunting beauty of the church’s traditional funeral music, for example, stresses the mystery of death and the hope of the resurrection. It is far superior to singing a loved one’s favorite radio tune as a memorial.
Because the Mass is an unbloody re-presentation of the one sacrifice of Calvary, music which is theatrical and which inspires us to the worldly or to the irreligious is inappropriate to the dignity of the liturgy.
The solemnity of the church’s music need not be boring or saddening, however. Sacred music can be a powerful tool in helping us see beyond ourselves to heaven.
All liturgy is essentially a revelation of God to us. If the music at Mass reveals more about what we like and what makes us happy, it is doing us a disservice. If it brings us to true prayer and helps us contemplate the beauty of God’s holiness and love, it can reveal God to us in amazing ways.
Father Smith is the parochial vicar at St. Francis by the Sea Church on Hilton Head Island and a member of the Church Music Association of America. He has directed chant scholas both in Italy and the United States.
Article by
Father Christopher Smith
Published April 23, 2009, The Catholic Miscellany, Used with Permission, June 1, 2009
Image: courtesy Felici Fotographia
Dear Cardinals,
Brother Bishops and Priests,
Distinguished Artists,
Ladies and Gentlemen,
With great joy I welcome you to this solemn place, so rich in art and in history. I cordially greet each and every one of you and I thank you for accepting my invitation. At this gathering I wish to express and renew the Church’s friendship with the world of art, a friendship that has been strengthened over time; indeed Christianity from its earliest days has recognized the value of the arts and has made wise use of their varied language to express her unvarying message of salvation. This friendship must be continually promoted and supported so that it may be authentic and fruitful, adapted to different historical periods and attentive to social and cultural variations. Indeed, this is the reason for our meeting here today. I am deeply grateful to Archbishop Gianfranco Ravasi, President of the Pontifical Council for Culture and of the Pontifical Commission for the Cultural Patrimony of the Church, and likewise to his officials, for promoting and organizing this meeting, and I thank him for the words he has just addressed to me. I greet the Cardinals, the Bishops, the priests and the various distinguished personalities present. I also thank the Sistine Chapel Choir for their contribution to this gathering. Today’s event is focused on you, dear and illustrious artists, from different countries, cultures and religions, some of you perhaps remote from the practice of religion, but interested nevertheless in maintaining communication with the Catholic Church, in not reducing the horizons of existence to mere material realities, to a reductive and trivializing vision. You represent the varied world of the arts and so, through you, I would like to convey to all artists my invitation to friendship, dialogue and cooperation.
Some significant anniversaries occur around this time. It is ten years since the Letter to Artists by my venerable Predecessor, the Servant of God Pope John Paul II. For the first time, on the eve of the Great Jubilee of the Year 2000, the Pope, who was an artist himself, wrote a Letter to artists, combining the solemnity of a pontifical document with the friendly tone of a conversation among all who, as we read in the initial salutation, "are passionately dedicated to the search for new ‘epiphanies’ of beauty". Twenty-five years ago the same Pope proclaimed Blessed Fra Angelico the patron of artists, presenting him as a model of perfect harmony between faith and art. I also recall how on 7 May 1964, forty-five years ago, in this very place, an historic event took place, at the express wish of Pope Paul VI, to confirm the friendship between the Church and the arts. The words that he spoke on that occasion resound once more today under the vault of the Sistine Chapel and touch our hearts and our minds. "We need you," he said. "We need your collaboration in order to carry out our ministry, which consists, as you know, in preaching and rendering accessible and comprehensible to the minds and hearts of our people the things of the spirit, the invisible, the ineffable, the things of God himself. And in this activity … you are masters. It is your task, your mission, and your art consists in grasping treasures from the heavenly realm of the spirit and clothing them in words, colours, forms – making them accessible." So great was Paul VI’s esteem for artists that he was moved to use daring expressions. "And if we were deprived of your assistance," he added, "our ministry would become faltering and uncertain, and a special effort would be needed, one might say, to make it artistic, even prophetic. In order to scale the heights of lyrical expression of intuitive beauty, priesthood would have to coincide with art." On that occasion Paul VI made a commitment to "re-establish the friendship between the Church and artists", and he invited artists to make a similar, shared commitment, analyzing seriously and objectively the factors that disturbed this relationship, and assuming individual responsibility, courageously and passionately, for a newer and deeper journey in mutual acquaintance and dialogue in order to arrive at an authentic "renaissance" of art in the context of a new humanism.
That historic encounter, as I mentioned, took place here in this sanctuary of faith and human creativity. So it is not by chance that we come together in this place, esteemed for its architecture and its symbolism, and above all for the frescoes that make it unique, from the masterpieces of Perugino and Botticelli, Ghirlandaio and Cosimo Rosselli, Luca Signorelli and others, to the Genesis scenes and the Last Judgement of Michelangelo Buonarroti, who has given us here one of the most extraordinary creations in the entire history of art. The universal language of music has often been heard here, thanks to the genius of great musicians who have placed their art at the service of the liturgy, assisting the spirit in its ascent towards God. At the same time, the Sistine Chapel is remarkably vibrant with history, since it is the solemn and austere setting of events that mark the history of the Church and of mankind. Here as you know, the College of Cardinals elects the Pope; here it was that I myself, with trepidation but also with absolute trust in the Lord, experienced the privileged moment of my election as Successor of the Apostle Peter.
Dear friends, let us allow these frescoes to speak to us today, drawing us towards the ultimate goal of human history. The Last Judgement, which you see behind me, reminds us that human history is movement and ascent, a continuing tension towards fullness, towards human happiness, towards a horizon that always transcends the present moment even as the two coincide. Yet the dramatic scene portrayed in this fresco also places before our eyes the risk of man’s definitive fall, a risk that threatens to engulf him whenever he allows himself to be led astray by the forces of evil. So the fresco issues a strong prophetic cry against evil, against every form of injustice. For believers, though, the Risen Christ is the Way, the Truth and the Life. For his faithful followers, he is the Door through which we are brought to that "face-to-face" vision of God from which limitless, full and definitive happiness flows. Thus Michelangelo presents to our gaze the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End of history, and he invites us to walk the path of life with joy, courage and hope. The dramatic beauty of Michelangelo’s painting, its colours and forms, becomes a proclamation of hope, an invitation to raise our gaze to the ultimate horizon. The profound bond between beauty and hope was the essential content of the evocative Message that Paul VI addressed to artists at the conclusion of the Second Vatican Ecumenical Council on 8 December 1965: "To all of you," he proclaimed solemnly, "the Church of the Council declares through our lips: if you are friends of true art, you are our friends!" And he added: "This world in which we live needs beauty in order not to sink into despair. Beauty, like truth, brings joy to the human heart, and is that precious fruit which resists the erosion of time, which unites generations and enables them to be one in admiration. And all this through the work of your hands . . . Remember that you are the custodians of beauty in the world."
Unfortunately, the present time is marked, not only by negative elements in the social and economic sphere, but also by a weakening of hope, by a certain lack of confidence in human relationships, which gives rise to increasing signs of resignation, aggression and despair. The world in which we live runs the risk of being altered beyond recognition because of unwise human actions which, instead of cultivating its beauty, unscrupulously exploit its resources for the advantage of a few and not infrequently disfigure the marvels of nature. What is capable of restoring enthusiasm and confidence, what can encourage the human spirit to rediscover its path, to raise its eyes to the horizon, to dream of a life worthy of its vocation – if not beauty? Dear friends, as artists you know well that the experience of beauty, beauty that is authentic, not merely transient or artificial, is by no means a supplementary or secondary factor in our search for meaning and happiness; the experience of beauty does not remove us from reality, on the contrary, it leads to a direct encounter with the daily reality of our lives, liberating it from darkness, transfiguring it, making it radiant and beautiful.
Indeed, an essential function of genuine beauty, as emphasized by Plato, is that it gives man a healthy "shock", it draws him out of himself, wrenches him away from resignation and from being content with the humdrum – it even makes him suffer, piercing him like a dart, but in so doing it "reawakens" him, opening afresh the eyes of his heart and mind, giving him wings, carrying him aloft. Dostoevsky’s words that I am about to quote are bold and paradoxical, but they invite reflection. He says this: "Man can live without science, he can live without bread, but without beauty he could no longer live, because there would no longer be anything to do to the world. The whole secret is here, the whole of history is here." The painter Georges Braque echoes this sentiment: "Art is meant to disturb, science reassures." Beauty pulls us up short, but in so doing it reminds us of our final destiny, it sets us back on our path, fills us with new hope, gives us the courage to live to the full the unique gift of life. The quest for beauty that I am describing here is clearly not about escaping into the irrational or into mere aestheticism.
Too often, though, the beauty that is thrust upon us is illusory and deceitful, superficial and blinding, leaving the onlooker dazed; instead of bringing him out of himself and opening him up to horizons of true freedom as it draws him aloft, it imprisons him within himself and further enslaves him, depriving him of hope and joy. It is a seductive but hypocritical beauty that rekindles desire, the will to power, to possess, and to dominate others, it is a beauty which soon turns into its opposite, taking on the guise of indecency, transgression or gratuitous provocation. Authentic beauty, however, unlocks the yearning of the human heart, the profound desire to know, to love, to go towards the Other, to reach for the Beyond. If we acknowledge that beauty touches us intimately, that it wounds us, that it opens our eyes, then we rediscover the joy of seeing, of being able to grasp the profound meaning of our existence, the Mystery of which we are part; from this Mystery we can draw fullness, happiness, the passion to engage with it every day. In this regard, Pope John Paul II, in his Letter to Artists, quotes the following verse from a Polish poet, Cyprian Norwid: "Beauty is to enthuse us for work, and work is to raise us up" (no. 3). And later he adds: "In so far as it seeks the beautiful, fruit of an imagination which rises above the everyday, art is by its nature a kind of appeal to the mystery. Even when they explore the darkest depths of the soul or the most unsettling aspects of evil, the artist gives voice in a way to the universal desire for redemption" (no. 10). And in conclusion he states: "Beauty is a key to the mystery and a call to transcendence" (no. 16).
These ideas impel us to take a further step in our reflection. Beauty, whether that of the natural universe or that expressed in art, precisely because it opens up and broadens the horizons of human awareness, pointing us beyond ourselves, bringing us face to face with the abyss of Infinity, can become a path towards the transcendent, towards the ultimate Mystery, towards God. Art, in all its forms, at the point where it encounters the great questions of our existence, the fundamental themes that give life its meaning, can take on a religious quality, thereby turning into a path of profound inner reflection and spirituality. This close proximity, this harmony between the journey of faith and the artist’s path is attested by countless artworks that are based upon the personalities, the stories, the symbols of that immense deposit of "figures" – in the broad sense – namely the Bible, the Sacred Scriptures. The great biblical narratives, themes, images and parables have inspired innumerable masterpieces in every sector of the arts, just as they have spoken to the hearts of believers in every generation through the works of craftsmanship and folk art, that are no less eloquent and evocative.
In this regard, one may speak of a via pulchritudinis, a path of beauty which is at the same time an artistic and aesthetic journey, a journey of faith, of theological enquiry. The theologian Hans Urs von Balthasar begins his great work entitled The Glory of the Lord – a Theological Aesthetics with these telling observations: "Beauty is the word with which we shall begin. Beauty is the last word that the thinking intellect dares to speak, because it simply forms a halo, an untouchable crown around the double constellation of the true and the good and their inseparable relation to one another." He then adds: "Beauty is the disinterested one, without which the ancient world refused to understand itself, a word which both imperceptibly and yet unmistakably has bid farewell to our new world, a world of interests, leaving it to its own avarice and sadness. It is no longer loved or fostered even by religion." And he concludes: "We can be sure that whoever sneers at her name as if she were the ornament of a bourgeois past – whether he admits it or not – can no longer pray and soon will no longer be able to love." The way of beauty leads us, then, to grasp the Whole in the fragment, the Infinite in the finite, God in the history of humanity. Simone Weil wrote in this regard: "In all that awakens within us the pure and authentic sentiment of beauty, there, truly, is the presence of God. There is a kind of incarnation of God in the world, of which beauty is the sign. Beauty is the experimental proof that incarnation is possible. For this reason all art of the first order is, by its nature, religious." Hermann Hesse makes the point even more graphically: "Art means: revealing God in everything that exists." Echoing the words of Pope Paul VI, the Servant of God Pope John Paul II restated the Church’s desire to renew dialogue and cooperation with artists: "In order to communicate the message entrusted to her by Christ, the Church needs art" (no. 12); but he immediately went on to ask: "Does art need the Church?" – thereby inviting artists to rediscover a source of fresh and well-founded inspiration in religious experience, in Christian revelation and in the "great codex" that is the Bible.
Dear artists, as I draw to a conclusion, I too would like to make a cordial, friendly and impassioned appeal to you, as did my Predecessor. You are the custodians of beauty: thanks to your talent, you have the opportunity to speak to the heart of humanity, to touch individual and collective sensibilities, to call forth dreams and hopes, to broaden the horizons of knowledge and of human engagement. Be grateful, then, for the gifts you have received and be fully conscious of your great responsibility to communicate beauty, to communicate in and through beauty! Through your art, you yourselves are to be heralds and witnesses of hope for humanity! And do not be afraid to approach the first and last source of beauty, to enter into dialogue with believers, with those who, like yourselves, consider that they are pilgrims in this world and in history towards infinite Beauty! Faith takes nothing away from your genius or your art: on the contrary, it exalts them and nourishes them, it encourages them to cross the threshold and to contemplate with fascination and emotion the ultimate and definitive goal, the sun that does not set, the sun that illumines this present moment and makes it beautiful.
Saint Augustine, who fell in love with beauty and sang its praises, wrote these words as he reflected on man’s ultimate destiny, commenting almost ante litteram on the Judgement scene before your eyes today: "Therefore we are to see a certain vision, my brethren, that no eye has seen, nor ear heard, nor the heart of man conceived: a vision surpassing all earthly beauty, whether it be that of gold and silver, woods and fields, sea and sky, sun and moon, or stars and angels. The reason is this: it is the source of all other beauty" (In 1 Ioannis, 4:5). My wish for all of you, dear artists, is that you may carry this vision in your eyes, in your hands, and in your heart, that it may bring you joy and continue to inspire your fine works. From my heart I bless you and, like Paul VI, I greet you with a single word: arrivederci!
Source: Vatican News Service
