Dom Saulnier’s Guide to Chant online
Dom Daniel Saulnier’s Gregorian Chant: A Guide is online. The entire world of Catholic music is grateful to Edward Schaefer for doing the translation and also putting the translation into the commons through a gift to the Church Music Association of America. Gratitude also goes out to Solesmes and to the author himself for granting permission for this fantastic development.
There is something of a history here that I would like to share, with details that to me suggest a providential hand at work. In the background of this important monograph is that splendid reality that all the great intellectual and spiritual writings on chant are now in the commons: Dom Mocquereau, Dom Gajard, Dom Johner, and so many others. There are hundreds of texts available now, and many books too, including the Ward books and so many others. We owe this to the fact that many of these works were written before the age of outrageous copyright restrictions and also the wonderful reality that most publishers didn’t care enough about these books to renew their copyrights before the deadline. They thus landed in the commons, and we are all better off for it. They can now teach the world.
It has been a source of frustration to me that Dom Saulnier’s book has been the exception. The publisher of the book is to be commended for their existing beautiful edition but the publisher’s model exclusive the progressive methods of making books free online, and hence this one work was trapped behind the bars of exclusivity and caged in paper, with seemingly no end in sight.
Something remarkable happened only a few days ago. Dr. Schaeffer called to reveal that he had done his own translation of this work back in 2003 and that this book was published by Solesmes. Later, however, an American publisher had arranged a different translation that was still very similar and made it available with the cooperation of Solesmes (which is mercifully free with its permissions these days). That left this first translation in a limbo state that Schaeffer himself only noticed a few weeks ago. He immediately saw the opportunity and arranged to have the rights to the translation transferred back to himself. He turned out and gave the translation into the commons. This is why you can now read this book for free online.
To me, this is just a thrilling sequence of events, something I imagined was hopeless just came into being without any notice. It happened out of the blue – thanks to generosity and prayer. Because of this gift, this text now belongs to the ages and can now begin educating the entire world.
The CMAA will produce a print edition in a matter of weeks (at most) but, in the meantime, please begin now to benefit from this modern treasure of the chant literature.
Denis McNamara applied to Sacred Music
Just this past week I finished a course at the Liturgical Institute of St. Mary of the Lake University, Mundelein, with the Institute’s assistant director Dr. Denis McNamara. Dr. McNamara just recently published the groundbreaking book Catholic Church Architecture and the Spirit of the Liturgy through the Institute’s ‘Hillenbrand Books’, which was the main text for the course.
Ultimately, Dr. McNamara’s book is focused on the practical issue of new church architecture and church renovations, but he sets out to achieve it in the first place by means of an applied study in liturgical theology, architectural theology and a theology of beauty. This first part of his book provides a lens, a hermeneutic, for the rest of his study which journeys through the scriptural foundations of church architecture, the timeless applicability of the Classical tradition, the eschatological nature of iconic images, and a historical survey of modern church architecture.
McNamara’s perspective for the study of sacred art is sacramental (small “s”), according to the Church’s classic definition of a sacrament: “a visible sign of an invisible reality”. This means that sacred art, in this case architecture, uses visible signs to reveal the building’s ontology: its nature, its reason for being. (Dr. McNamara loves to use the word ontology in the classroom, it’s sort of as a catch phrase. One day, in a prayer led by one of the priests in the class, the word ontology managed to show up twice! When we finished the sign of the cross and opened our eyes we saw Denis smiling ear to ear.) Ontology: “What makes a church a church?” “What does sacred art say about its reason for being?”
I heard at one point in the course the axiom coined by the theologian Fr. Edward Oakes, SJ “art doesn’t lie”. In other words, seen from a sacramental perspective, art always signifies some reality: beauty is not in the the eye of the beholder, dependent on the viewer’s subjective state and experience in order to give it meaning. Art always says something about its intention, it communicates, it reveals something, it signifies something; the question is “what reality does it signify?”
In the case of the language of classical church architecture the elements used in design seek to signify the heavenly liturgy; the church building becomes a “sacramental building” which signifies the union of heaven and earth during the liturgy, it shows through its art and design the earth restored to heavenly order, its beauty represents the beauty, perfection, and other-worldliness of heaven, and it invites the liturgical participant to “actively participate” in the heavenly liturgy which is made present in the most excellent way in the holy sacrifice of the Mass. In contrast, in the case of post-modern deconstructivist architecture, which is based on a philosophy of despair, of chaos, which focuses on the disorder of fallen humanity, something else is signified; it represents the fall, it exhibits chaos in built form, it does not look to heaven, but further enables the viewer to “actively participate” in the effects of the fall.
“Architecture is the built form of ideas”, says McNamara. “Art doesn’t lie”. “Art invites the viewer to participate in the reality which it signifies”.
As I reflected on how sacred art assists or detracts from one’s active participation in the sacred mysteries that are celebrated in the liturgy, I couldn’t help but to stop and think of how these ideas could be applied, mutatis mutandis, to sacred music. What followed was somewhat of a revelation.
If architecture is the built form of ideas, it could be said that (in the case of sacred music) music is the sung form of ideas.
It seems that in many of our contemporary debates over liturgical music we can’t seem to get too far away from the subjective elements of musical style. I have heard very prominent exponents of modern “contemporary” liturgical music say to proponents of sacred music: “Why don’t you stop ragging on people who happen to like contemporary musical styles? I respect your stylistic preferences, why can’t you respect mine?” (You may not believe this, but this is an argument given by one of GIA’s most widely published composers–and he attributes it to Fr. Gelineau, with whom he studied). Sacred musicians might respond furiously saying “it’s not a question of style!” but then they might produce a counter-argument, or maybe even post a video on the internet, which compares contemporary and sacred musical styles. This usually amounts to the belittling of pop styles, and it makes an appeal to Gregorian chant, asking the viewer “which one seems more beautiful?” Well, if beauty is in the eye of the beholder then this amounts to an argument over personal taste and preference.
But if one asks the question “what does this musical repertoire, or musical style sacramentally represent?” then we might actually develop a grammar for properly analyzing liturgical music.
If music is the sung form of ideas, this means, in liturgy, that music represents theology. In other words, the music that is sung in liturgy reveals what those who participate in it believe that the liturgy is. Art doesn’t lie.
If the liturgy is an earthly participation in the eschatological reality of heaven; a bursting forth of the heavenly liturgy that takes place at the end of time into the earthly liturgy of the fallen world, then its music should be eschatological. The music of this earthly liturgy would seek to provide a foretaste of the liturgy of heaven, the wedding banquet of the Lamb. It would be transcendent and other-worldly, its noble beauty would befit the heavenly King, it would be ordered music free of the effects of the fall, it would transcend the popular musical styles of the world and would actively engage its participants in a foretaste of the heavenly life that is to come.
On the other hand, if the music in the earthly liturgy sounds like the music of the popular culture, is like the music that would be sung or heard at a festive family dinner party, or perhaps at a concert or in a retail store, if the music is reflective of the music that is on top 40 radio, and so on, what does this say about what the liturgy is? Art doesn’t lie. This music would suggest that the liturgy is like a gathering for a family meal, is entertaining, is immanently bound up with the “now”, or with a particular time period (as is perhaps is the case with 70’s folk music), it may have the effect of persuading people to walk in the doors much like the shops in a mall. A liturgical theology that prefers music that says these things or has these effects would be one that views the earthly liturgy not as a participation in the glories of heaven, but one that is immanently bound up in the effects of the fall.
What all of this is saying to me is that perhaps we need to stop arguing about musical styles. Instead let’s take a step back and take a look at the music that is being sung in the liturgy and ask ourselves what theological reality it is expressing. If a liturgist or pastor or musician or anyone believes that the liturgy is simply a communal meal shared between friends that is bound up in this time and place, well, guess what, their liturgical music is probably going to reflect that. Instead of trying to convince them that certain musical styles and repertoires are appropriate for Mass, through persuasion or worse yet through beating them over the head with Church documents, perhaps we should enter a conversation about the ontology of the liturgy. Our time might be better spent giving a sound liturgical catechesis, in praying for conversion of hearts, for the evangelization of souls, and in becoming, ourselves, imbued with the spirit of the liturgy.
Art doesn’t lie. Music doesn’t lie. Let us know what we’re saying with the music that we sing in the earthly liturgy and let us always strive for a sacramental participation in the liturgy of heaven where God is all-in-all, and where the earth is restored and sings his praise eternally.
Sing Like a Catholic, Workshop in Charlotte, NC
The Charlotte Observer reports on an August 6-7, 2010, workshop at St. Ann Catholic Church. Arlene Oost-Zinner is directing the chant. I’ll be lecturing.
Atlanta Symposium on Sacred Music
A fascinating line up that includes Jerry Galipeau, Will Breytspraak, David Haas, Fr. Andrew Wadsworth, and this writer. What I liked most about last year was getting to know all the regular parish musicians who attend. I learned so much from my conversations with people! Hope to see you August 21.
Why do we always repeat the Psalm antiphon between verses?
The most common way that the Responsorial Psalm is sung has the congregation repeating the antiphon after each verse, so that the antiphon is sung three, four, or even five times in a short period of time. Most choirs think nothing of this and never question it. They do it ever Sunday. However, last week, the Psalm was as follows:
R. (1a) He who does justice will live in the presence of the Lord.
One who walks blamelessly and does justice;
who thinks the truth in his heart
and slanders not with his tongue.
R. He who does justice will live in the presence of the Lord.
Who harms not his fellow man,
nor takes up a reproach against his neighbor;
by whom the reprobate is despised,
while he honors those who fear the LORD.
R. He who does justice will live in the presence of the Lord.
Who lends not his money at usury
and accepts no bribe against the innocent.
One who does these things
shall never be disturbed.
R. He who does justice will live in the presence of the Lord.
I’ve printed it here precisely as it appears on the USCCB website. And this is the way it is usually sung. But consider the text. Does it make sense this way? Or does it make more sense this way?:
R. (1a) He who does justice will live in the presence of the Lord.
One who walks blamelessly and does justice;
who thinks the truth in his heart
and slanders not with his tongue.
Who harms not his fellow man,
nor takes up a reproach against his neighbor;
by whom the reprobate is despised,
while he honors those who fear the LORD.
Who lends not his money at usury
and accepts no bribe against the innocent.
One who does these things
shall never be disturbed.
R. He who does justice will live in the presence of the Lord.
Our schola director, Arlene Oost-Zinner, who writes Psalms for Chabanel, immediately observed that the second makes more sense, and so, perhaps for the first time, we shifted so that we sang the antiphon once alone and once with the congregation, sang the verses straight through, and then concluded with the antiphon. In other words, we sang it the way the Psalms are sung in the office. I must say that it was an enormous success. I thought so anyway. I was not left with a sense of: wow, I really missed interrupting this text every 10 seconds with an insistence that people sing again! Not at all. It flowed beautifully and was very effective.
What does the GIRM say about this practice? “The entire congregation remains seated and listens but, as a rule, takes part by singing the response, except when the Psalm is sung straight through without a response.”
I know that you might be thinking: here we have the classic exposition that we’ve come to expect from the ordinary form: a rule that is advanced and followed by the exception that isn’t really depreciated but merely given as a choice. Yes, this approach is pervasive throughout the GIRM, and remains one of the most troubling aspects of the ordinary form. In this case, however, the presence of choice really is a benefit. Sometimes we really should sing the Psalm all the way through.
Why don’t we? I’m not entirely sure. My off-the-cuff theory is that the usual practice is an extension of the paranoia that we’ve all imbibed that if there is anything that we can plausibly expect the people to sing, we must demand that they do so, else the choir will be seen as elitist and forbidding, usurping the people’s role – and whether people actually do sing or want to sing, or whether it makes any sense for them to constantly sing, is totally irrelevant.
There might be a more substantive reason behind the conventional practice. Surely someone can enlighten me. Regardless, I do see a point behind singing some settings all the way through. It certainly made sense to me in this case.
Finally, I would like to say something about what it means to be a successful Psalm. To my mind, it means that it should be integrated with the Liturgy of the Word as much as possible, and certainly not stand out as something like a conspicuous musical interlude between the readings as something separate. The beauty of the Gradual from the Gregorian books is their stillness that call forth reflection, a sense of timelessness and beauty that instills an absolute quietness of deep prayer.
I would never expect a parishioner to come up after Mass and say: “hey, that was one heck of a Psalm today!” Not at all. It should be so much part of the fabric of the experience of this portion of Mass that it should leave an impression close to the perception that no performance took place at all.
The main trouble with Psalm singing today at Mass is that it is too often just a huge stylistic interruption, so that people feel bounced from words to a real toe tapper and back again. This can’t be good for the overall import of this portion of Mass. This observation leads me to think that when the text really doesn’t want to be interrupted, it should not be interrupted.
Nuns Sign Recording Deal
From the Guardian today:
A group of Benedictine nuns who live in complete seclusion in the South of France are set to become divas of pop after signing a deal with Universal Music, the leading record company behind Lady Gaga and Amy Winehouse.
After a worldwide search for the finest exponents of the art of the Gregorian chant, the Nuns of the Abbaye de Notre-Dame de L’Annonciation have signed a deal with Universal’s Decca Records label. The enclosed order still communicates with outsiders through a grille to avoid intrusion into a life of religious devotion. As a result, the nuns in the abbey will have to photograph their own album cover, as well as provide the footage for their television advertisements.
The order, based near Avignon, dates back to the 6th century and follows a strict tradition of living behind closed doors once novice nuns have taken their vows. Sisters then remain inside the convent until death.
“We never sought this, it came looking for us,” said the Rev Mother Abbess. “At first we were worried it would affect our cloistered life, so we asked St Joseph in prayer. Our prayers were answered and we thought that this album would be a good thing if it touches people’s lives and helps them find peace.”