Urgent Message: Support The Musical Shape of the Liturgy, by William Mahrt

The reforms of the liturgy resulting from the Second Vatican Council have greatly increased the freedom of choice of liturgical music;1 the council also encouraged the composition of new music for the sacred liturgy. However, every freedom entails a corresponding responsibility; and it does not seem that, in the years since the council, the responsibility for the choice of sacred music has been exercised with equal wisdom in all circles. To judge by what is normally heard in the churches, one might even conclude that the Church no longer holds any standards in the realm of sacred music, and that, in fact, anything goes.

The main thesis of William Mahrt’s great work, The Musical Shape of the Liturgy (460 pages!), is that the Roman Rite has its own musical structure that is aesthetically robust, theologically integrated into the text, musically sophisticated, and essential to the proper presentation of the liturgy. He shows this through historical, theological, and musical analysis. This is a theoretical treatise with a profound practical urgency that the author constantly makes clear from the first to the last: we must apply these lessons in our parishes. If we do not, we are leaving out part of the liturgy and missing the beauty and magnificence of what the Church offers us.

There has never been a book like this since the close of the Second Vatican Council. I’m not sure that there has been a book like this before the Council. Maybe if there had been, we wouldn’t be in the mess are in now. There have been musicological works, theological works, books by pundits and composers (but only a few), but no general treatise that covers all that you need to know plus provides a practical urgency that is focused on how music really should be treated in every parish starting now.

Mahrt himself is a remarkable man: an academic musicologist plus a parish musician plus an activist for the great cause of chant. This book puts it altogether in a way that provides what we have all so badly needed: the one book to read and distribute to finally get Catholic music on track again.

Where can you get this book? You cannot. Not yet. We are in the final stages of preparation. It is going to print in February. But here is the reality. Preparing and printing this book is going to break the bank. The CMAA has very little money anyway and this is going to drain our account. But it absolutely must be done. We can’t pass up this opportunity. As I told Mahrt, I think this book will still be a living part of our intellectual apparatus in fifty or 100 years. I really believe that. This is the book that will finally say what must be said.

Can you help us out with publishing this? We certainly need it. And donating here is a real opportunity, a way to encourage beauty in the Roman Rite, a way to bring something unique into existence that we’ve been missing. Please be generous, and thank you.

P.S. If you are consider a gift of more than $1,000, I’m very happy to send you the PDF as it currently stands so that you can see what I’m talking about here. You can write me at jeffrey@chantcafe.com

To Fix the Chant, Focus on the Word

Very interesting arrives at the Cafe:

Some time ago, when I woke up to the fact that “the Sacred” was steadily diminishing in my life, I determined to do something about it: I founded a schola to bring the Sacred back to the Masses in the parish church that my wife and I attend. In this effort your Chant Café has been a monumental discovery. Although I had not even heard of the article How to Start Your Own Garage Schola (co-authored by you with Arlene Ost-Zinner), I had already followed the steps you had outlined there. I had even discovered on the Internet — by pure chance — the Jubilate Deo booklet.

Some departures from your five steps were, however, inevitable. Our parish was in a state of interregnum (the outgoing pastor was reluctant to start anything new just before departure; the incoming pastor had vowed not to change anything substantial throughout his first year). What to do? I had a schola, and no place to chant.

At this point I made a startling and unexpected discovery — chant is prayer. First and foremost, it is prayer. Teaching chant (a skill I had acquired when I attended a major seminary) I would be teaching people a new way to pray! (At this point, I’m afraid, you are likely thinking — “The earth is round, you say?” Still, hear me out.)

We had our first meeting in a room of the Public Library. (No space was available at the Parish.) After introductions and some casual chatting I called the group to order. Then I said: “Let’s begin with a prayer. Just follow me.” Then I intoned the words “Our Father …” and all in the room chanted on one note, peacefully and beautifully, to the final Amen. The silence that followed was deafening. I will never forget that moment.

Since that first evening we have begun our weekly practice-sessions exactly that way. Afterwards, before the practice, I say — “Remember, we are learning to pray. The words we pray are the most important part of chant.”

I have been astonished at how much this emphasis on prayer has contributed to our ability to chant well and, perhaps more important still, to wait patiently for the opportunity to chant in the liturgy of the Church. Above all, striving to attain una voce chanting is almost automatic. The shared music brings us together. Our differences disappear. Before we practice a chant we read the prayer out loud and discuss what the intention of that prayer is and, of course, how we should pray it when we chant. The result is always wonderful. There are no more alleluias sung like dirges, nor pedestrian Glorias, nor frivolous-sounding pleas for God’s mercy. The chanted prayers are earnest and real.

I believe that one of the major problems, both in teaching and in learning how to chant (particularly when the chanter has a professionally-trained voice) arises not so much from the unique features possessed naturally by each voice as by all the later acquisitions common in secular vocal music, such as shading, tremolo, bravura, coloring, styles, etc. However, when the emphasis is on the words rather than the music this is not so. In my experience these all gradually disappear without any attention paid to them. Each chanter seems simply to realize that these elements have no place in chanted prayers, that there is a sustaining difference between secular and sacred music.

We are now in our fourth month. We have no official standing in any of the parishes of southern Oregon and must wait to be invited to chant on special occasions. We have a respectable repertory of liturgical chants, principally in English, but also in Latin. We have sung the mass at two retreats at our local St. Rita’s Retreat House. Yesterday at a funeral in Grants Pass, we chanted two propers (Introit: Requiem Aeternam; and the recessional, Subvenite) as well as the In Paradisum at the final incensing — all in English.

In about six weeks we will chant a mass — this time all in Latin — a celebration on the occasion of an infant baptism and also two First Holy Communions of a family from Rogue River. The celebrant, a member of the Fraternity of St. Peter, is brother to the father of these children. (The children’s father is a member of the schola.) Our schola also anticipates an invitation to chant a mass at a local mission church. We will afterwards begin tutoring and rehearsing their choir group members who have expressed an interest in learning Gregorian Chant. God knows where we will go from there. In His will is our peace.

I’m sure there is nothing exceptional about our experience. You have heard, I’m sure, and will continue to hear from more and more individuals on the front-lines of this battle who are steadily gaining ground. Because of the great assistance and inspiration of individuals like you and all your associate liturgists and musical experts, we will prevail. The best way we can thank you at present is with our prayers. All the rest will come as a matter of course.

Sad, Suffering Return of “Godspell”

This review of the Godspell revival made me laugh:

“Godspell” is showing its age, at least as represented by director Daniel Goldstein’s production at New York’s Circle in the Square Theatre. This first Broadway revival of the beloved 1971 “rock musical” might be compared to a middle-aged person trying to recapture youth. In people the result is sad to see, but here it’s just boring.

What seemed fresh and light 40 years ago — 20-something actors cavorting around in colorful ragtag costumes singing and acting out Jesus’ parables, with him leading and joining in the fun — now seems like a church pageant aimed at getting the youth group more interested in religion. Nothing in this revival is of Broadway quality except the songs, which were adapted by composer/lyricist Stephen Schwartz from the Episcopal hymnal and the Gospel of Matthew.

Even the songs suffer here because of choreographer Christopher Gattelli’s formulaic dance moves, which in the case of the show’s breakout hit, “Day by Day,” look more like a cardio class warm-up.

You only know for sure that it is in the National Catholic Reporter because the reviewer’s main complaint is that the producers didn’t update the production with inclusive language.

I’ve never understood the appeal of Godspell. It opens, as I recall, with a number that pokes fun at St. Thomas Aquinas and scholasticism as an intellectual discipline. No thanks.

Gregorian Chant is so Jewish

There is nothing Catholic that is not rooted in the Old Testament. Our Catholic faith did not spring up out of nowhere, but out of the faith of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob.

This is true liturgically speaking, as we have a tabernacle, altar and priesthood in the New Covenant, similar to the Old Covenant. We also have Gregorian chant, which is rooted in Old Covenant worship. The Psalms were not merely read, but chanted in public worship of God, which Jesus himself participated in as a child.

This chant was more fully developed in the Catholic Church and became what we now refer to as Gregorian chant. I’ve listened to many types of chant, but none quite as beautiful as Gregorian.

Pope Benedict XVI has encouraged the faithful to reacquaint themselves with this chant and use it liturgically; we want to follow our Supreme Pontiff’s lead.

Read more from Sister Rosalind Moss at the NGReg

Why Is Catholic Music Such a Mess?

I get this question enough that it justifies an article. Here’s the scenario. A long time Catholic of bourgeois sensibilities, a man who trying to hold on to his faith but doesn’t attend Mass on a regular basis, decides that it is time to try again. He goes to a parish not far from his house. The processional says to him: nothing has changed from the last time I tried this. He grinds his teeth throughout. By communion time, he is nearly losing his mind. The recessional hymn puts him over the top. He goes out to the parking lot cursing under his breath, mad all over again, recalling why he doesn’t go that often.

The problem is the music. It is bad pop music, shabbily done by people who nonetheless seem to be pretty proud of their performance. The entire Mass, the man keeps asking himself: how does it happen that the most beautiful liturgy, the product of 2000 years of tradition, could be reduced to this? More importantly, isn’t there something that can be done about it?

I receive phonecalls and emails along these lines all the time and have for many years. The stark contrast between what exists and what they remember Mass to be, or imagine it can be like or have seen or heard elsewhere, is too much too handle.

I see my main job here as trying my best to calm people down and get them to see that the source of the problem is not as metaphysically malicious as they might at first think. We do not need a purge, as tempting as that idea might sound. Nor is the solution some dramatic leap into an authoritarian future in which a Bishop or the Pope imposes one set of music and tosses out everyone who doesn’t go along, as satisfying as that fantasy might be.

There are a number of core reasons why this problem persists, and these reasons are related to each other in complex ways. Let’s first be clear that the musicians themselves typically feel a sense of discomfort about what they are doing. They are not entirely sure that they are really making a contribution to the liturgy. They feel a sense of disconnect with what is happening on the altar. They are unclear about whether the music they are doing is really appropriate. But they are unpaid volunteers who are aware that no one seems to be objecting, and they do receive compliments from time to time. Hence, they reason, they might as well continue what they are doing, which is showing up to Mass 30 minutes early and selecting for hymns and otherwise doing what they already know how to do. They do not see the big picture. They do not imagine what they cannot musically render or understand.

The number one issue, in my own view that has been formed over a decade of close study, is that the musicians themselves do not know better. Most people doing music in the Catholic Church do not even have a rudimentary understanding of the musical demands of the Roman rite. They do not know what parts of the Mass constitute the ordinary structure of the Mass. They do not know that the propers of the Mass exist. They have no idea how the music is related to the word or the calendar (apart from Christmas and Easter). They have no idea what is mandatory, what is an option, what is the Church’s choice, what is the publisher’s choice, what tradition consists of, or how to tell genuine liturgical music from nonliturgical music.

This is because they have never been told. And a reason that they have never been told is that very few people actually have this understanding at all. You can attend ten national conventions, read ten books, subscribe to all the major liturgy publications, troll websites all day, talk to your pastor and grill your predecessors, and still never discover these basic points about the Catholic liturgy and its musical demands. Yes, you will come away with some slogans and with the knowledge that “the people” need to participate but do not (it’s always easier to focus on the sins of others), but that’s about it.

The core information about the role of music is not known because it is not known, and this problem is not only serious at the grass roots; it goes straight to the top. Again, it is not malice that is preventing this knowledge from leaking out; it is just that so much information has been lost during these confusing decades that there are very few around that truly get it.

The second problem is that the resources to actually make a musical contribution to the liturgy have been missing for many decades. The music book of the Roman rite, the Roman Gradual, is unknown to 98% of musicians in the Catholic Church. They’ve never seen a copy and never heard of it, even though it is mentioned in both the Missal and in the instruction for the Missal. Even on the off chance that they have seen this book, they can’t read either the language (Latin) or the notation (four-line staff). They do not know that there are English versions of this available. If they did know this, they wouldn’t know how to get them.

Historians who have looked in detail at this problem note that it all began in the 1960s as an extension of a problem that pre-existed the Second Vatican Council. In a Low Mass culture, it was common to replace the sung propers with hymns and spoken propers. When the prevailing style of hymns changed in the 1960s from stodgy to groovy, and Mass propers fell by the wayside, that tendency to match the music with the times also stuck. That’s why the first signs of what many regard as corruption began to appear in the 1960s. Pop music began to dominate, first in the area of songs as replacements for propers. Only later did it become common for the ordinary chants of the Mass to be replaced by settings that matched the style of the new songs. By the early 1970s, it was a clean sweep. All the music of the Mass had a completely different face. By the time that the Roman Gradual that pertains to the ordinary form was actually printed in 1974, the whole issue has already been settled and the book was widely ignored.

There are other problems out there, to be sure. People talk about the problem of the publisher cartel, and it is a problem. But as I often remind people, they way to deal with this problem is simply a matter of changing the market. You have to change the buying preferences of the consumers. It’s pretty simple. You can do this without legislation, crack downs, hectoring, or belligerence. It is just a matter of supply and demand. In markets, products come and products go. If you don’t like what sells, support something else.

What about legislation and mandates? Statements from on high? Impositions from authority? I don’t consider these to be part of any real solution. There will continue to be statements just as there have been for decades. They are not as important as actually changing hearts through real experience. This is why educational colloquia and teaching conferences are so important. And it is why books like the Parish Book of Chant and the Simple English Propers are also so important. We have to have the resources. And we have to have the money to fund the production of these books and conferences – and generous donors (blessed are they!) are in short supply.

This is my sketch of the world we’ve inherited and how we must work to change it, the one I’ve relayed seemingly hundreds of times. There is a solution to the problem and it can be brought about quickly. We don’t need decades. But we do need passion, work, funding, and prayer.