Some thoughts about the liturgical music of Rome

Having thought a great deal about the liturgical music commonly practiced in the United States, it’s always interesting to me to visit someplace new and to see what might be going on in the Catholic churches there.

Having lived in Rome for just a few months, I would say that I’m only beginning to understand the liturgical music here. One of the reasons for this is the sheer number of different parishes in Rome. In the States, it is not atypical for a suburban parish to have 10,000 members, most of whom arrive by car. In Rome, it is not atypical for a Sunday Mass to comprise 25 congregants, most of whom arrive by foot, and who could just have easily have walked to half a dozen other parishes in a 10-minute radius.

If you have 10,000 parishioners, and buildings and a plant built within the last 100 years which require much less repair and maintenance than Renaissance-era buildings, you can afford a staff that includes a top-notch full-time Music Director. And if that musician is concerned with sacred music, rather than keeping up with the latest trends and styles, then true, consistent beauty is within reach of the average American parishioner. If we were to fail at this, and we often do, it seems to me that this failure would be preventable, and fixing it must be a priority, as part of pastoral care.

Fixing Roman parish music, which must be a matter of extreme pastoral urgency, seems much more difficult. Again, I do not pretend to understand the local issues, but I do believe there are universal problems that can be named. I’ve been to a few Masses with music that was simply badly performed. I’ve been to Masses with wonderful music, but with a rather theatrical and operatic style that can be distracting. I’ve been to Masses in which parishioners themselves have begun singing from the pew whatever hymn they chose. The Sunday Mass I attended at 11 am on the Feast of the Baptism of the Lord had no music; the Alleluia was not chanted, the Sanctus was not chanted–there was no music at the Mass at all. At one daily Mass, a recording of a song was played during the distribution of Communion.

One wonders why this must be so. Rome is a musician-dense city, like Washington or New York. Furthermore, from what I understand from musician friends, they work for much less money. A cantor-organist combination could easily be hired for less than the cost of either musician alone in the metropolitan US.

One obstacle to sacred music that the two countries have in common is that we have become accustomed to a widely accepted musical idiom that musicians know to be banal. An Italian version of the popular bilingual American song Pescador de Hombres is popular in Rome,  for example, and there are local equivalents to our own “pop” composers. The only excuse possible for these lesser types of music, which are in every way unworthy of the Mass, is the likewise widely accepted misreading of Sacrosanctum Concilium and its call for actual participation–a misreading that our previous two pontificates have repeatedly tried to correct.

Fortunately there are also excellent examples of truly sacred music, which after all has the strongest possible heritage in the Eternal City. They include:

  • The English College and the North American College. These two seminaries have incorporated vernacular propers, gorgeous polyphony, and often chanted ordinaries into their already robust traditions of hymn singing. Doubtless other seminaries have as well. The interest of rising seminarians and young clerics in truly sacred music suggests that marvelously hopeful things are in store for the future.
  • St. Peter’s Basilica. Some English-speaking critics fault the Sistine Chapel choir for not sounding more like German or English choirs. I do not think this is fair. Italian-sung music moves differently from music conceived in countries where language is less multi-syllabic and spoken in a less cadential way. Where speech is different, music will be different. The tango couldn’t arise in New Orleans any more than jazz could arise in Buenos Aires. These regional differences in choir sounds should be accepted as part of the richness of the Church’s music. The choir wisely avoids sounding operatic–according to Magisterial cautions that other accomplished choirs in the city might well heed. The only exaggeration that I hear, and again, this could be simply American ears talking, is a tendency towards an extreme of ritardando and diminuendo at cadences. I believe these could both be moderated for an overall better effect.
  • Santissima Trinità dei Pellegrini. This FSSP parish’s music program is by far the best I have heard in Rome. The music is concert-quality, full stop. A paying concert audience could not demand better singing on any level. And yet there is nothing in the music, no display, to suggest that the music is being sung at anything but a Mass–and a Mass that is being celebrated with the highest care and beauty, as are the Masses at the seminaries and St. Peter’s. Recollection is easy, prayer is easy, in a Mass such as this, which is probably why Santissima Trinità is so crowded with young adults.

Undoubtedly there are many other excellent examples. I have heard that the choir of at least one of the undergraduate universities in Rome routinely sings Renaissance polyphony–much like in the States, where college-age young people tend to be much more interested in sacred music than the previous generation or two. This gives me much hope that the future is bright, and that many of our problems are due to simple misunderstandings, and that the Holy Spirit is actively working to build us back up again where we had rather lost sight of the heights to which we are called.

Pastors: Would you like to improve confessions? Increase the beauty of the Mass.

Today I attended a particularly beautifully celebrated and sung Mass in the Extraordinary Form. Truly, it was poetry in motion. It “preached” in a way that even the best homilies could never do, about the joys of the Kingdom, where all is beautiful and all is rest.

People who are able to attend such beautiful Masses in either form of the Rite, or an equally well-done Liturgy in one of the other Rites, are very fortunate as Christians. The beauty of the Liturgy can and should exemplify the great hope to which we are called.

The beauty of these Liturgies stands in stark contrast, not to the poor (as beauty’s critics often claim), but to sin. In order to examine our consciences, to see how we are doing, we first have to see what we are supposed to be like. Our lives are supposed to be beautiful and good enough that joining this iconic Liturgy seems not only attractive, but right. In such a context, it is easy to see that none of us, including the ministers, are yet purified and holy, which accounts for the many confessions of sin and need for grace in the Mass.

As with most of the EF Masses I have attended, this morning there was a confessor with a confessional actively at work. People rather easily left their pews and went to confession during the first half hour or so of the Mass, and then went right back to their pews.

In contrast, most pastors have the experience of low usage of the confessional in their parishes, and this is one of the liturgical tragedies of our times. It does not have to be this way. In one parish where I worked, confessions were heard 21 times every week. Most of these times were brief: the priest would arrive at the time posted in the bulletin, and leave when the line was gone. Often there were 2 or 3 penitents, but just as often  there were many more–daily after the second daily Mass, and on Sunday mornings. The Liturgy was beautiful, the charitable works of the parish were excellent, and confessions were heard every single day.

The sacramental life is an integral whole, and a critical weakness in one aspect should lead us to wonder whether the rest of the system is sound. Confession, in almost every parish, is in a desperate state. There are many reasons for this, from the rise of pop psychology and its denial of guilt, to sometimes poor catechesis, to the “4:00 pm to 4:15 pm Saturday afternoons and by appointment” minimalism of parish offerings of the sacrament.

Another reason, I believe, is the lack of beauty, and thereby of hope, presented in the average parish Mass.

Musica Sacra Forum on Breathing and Chant

Many of our readers likely know that the Chant Café is one of three sister websites, including New Liturgical Movement and Musica Sacra. Musica Sacra has a substantial main site that offers vast resources and links, including this remarkable library, to help local musicians do their work well, and a thriving forum that is searchable, so that the answers to all sorts of interesting questions are “on file” and right at hand.

This week a very interesting question has arisen on the Musica Sacra Forum about breathing during chant. As often happens in these discussions, a single question quickly became a complex of related questions.

For anyone involved in singing chant–or singing at all–you might like to take a look.

‘Lead Kindly Light’–A Musical Meditation

Monsignor Philip Whitmore discusses one of Blessed Cardinal Newman’s great hymns, Lead Kindly Light, on Vatican Radio. The Blessed’s own title for the work was The Pillar of the Cloud.

 

LEAD, Kindly Light, amid the encircling gloom
          Lead Thou me on!
The night is dark, and I am far from home—
          Lead Thou me on!
Keep Thou my feet; I do not ask to see
The distant scene—one step enough for me.
I was not ever thus, nor pray’d that Thou
          Shouldst lead me on.
I loved to choose and see my path, but now
          Lead Thou me on!
I loved the garish day, and, spite of fears,
Pride ruled my will: remember not past years.
 
So long Thy power hath blest me, sure it still
          Will lead me on,
O’er moor and fen, o’er crag and torrent, till
          The night is gone;
And with the morn those angel faces smile
Which I have loved long since, and lost awhile.

At Sea

.
June 16, 1833.
 
 
 

What’s right about casual clothing at Mass

Every once in a while you might see a bulletin announcement or other form of communication taking folks to task about their clothing at Mass. Messages like this become more prevalent in summer, when warm weather fashions are sometimes immodest, and people might unthinkingly come to Mass dressed in distractingly revealing clothing.

Interestingly, immigrant populations usually do not need to be reminded to dress up for Mass. Sunday congregants attending Mass in foreign languages are often better-dressed than those speaking the native language of the place. Speculating, I’d imagine that one of the reasons for this has to do with work. It is not easy to learn a new language and culture, and to enter into the work force at a high level without specialized skills. Often, newly arrived folks work at jobs that require casual work clothes, or uniforms. Thus, Sunday Mass is one of the few public situations where a person can express freedom in clothing. Dressing up is fun, when you do it once a week.

For people with white-collar jobs, the situation is reverse. Every day, a suit and tie. Every day, stockings, heels, earrings, and a scarf. So on Sunday, dressing up would not be so clearly an expression of freedom; in fact, the reverse is true. A person expresses freedom by wearing relaxing clothes in public wherever that is possible. Khakis and short sleeves represent freedom.

In one way or another, I think, the time spent at Mass ought to be different from time spent at work or shopping or any other activity having to do with our earthly advancement. (Those whose workweek includes Sunday Mass know how difficult keeping the otherworldly focus can be.)  The time-out-of-time of the Liturgy should represent the weekend in a special way, that time free from “unnecessary servile work.” This doesn’t need to mean dressing for the dance club or the beach; there are modest ways to dress for Mass.

I tend to think that the way to go, for women, is prettier than would be strictly appropriate for most work situations. More prints, more dresses, less structure, more flow–and much less black.

“He willed the manger where He lay”

A Solis Ortis Cardine
Office hymn for Lauds during the Christmas Season

From east, where sunrise has its birth,
Across to western rims of earth,
Unto the Virgin-born they ring:
The Church’s songs to Christ, the King.

For He, the Lord of  ages blest
Is in a servile body dressed,
That flesh by flesh might be set free
that what he made to be would be.

The Mother’s inmost hidden place
is virginally reached by grace.
Within her virgin womb there grows
a secret that nobody knows

This chaste heart’s home has suddenly
The Lord’s own temple come to be.
Unknown by man, and not undone,
a word made her conceive the Son.

And Him the Blessed Mother bore,
Whom Gabriel made known before,
And Who, when hearing Mary’s voice,
before he saw Him, John rejoiced,

He let Himself be laid in hay;
He willed the manger where he lay;
and He who keeps the birds replete
has just a little milk to eat.

The chorus of the stars and skies
and angels sing with joyful cries:
to shepherds is their Maker shown,
and as a Shepherd he is known.

O Jesus, Virgin-born, to You
be glory as is ever due
whom with the Father we adore
and Spirit blest forevermore.