Kevin Magas, Contributor
A portion of American Catholics have alluded some complaints about the Mass: the preaching is irrelevant, the music is simply bad and the whole thing, above all, just seems boring.
Among these, the issue with liturgical music bears special prominence, setting an entire aesthetic “feel” to a liturgical celebration. Indeed, St. Augustine claims “Cantare amantis est,” singing is a lover’s thing.
So if the church’s singing proceeds out of love for her divine creator, then why do we seem to be left with just the opposite?
Instead of songs of praise and thanksgiving, we see half-hearted refrains and whole-hearted apathy. While hoping for a song that can help carry our hearts and minds to heaven, we seem left with banal tunes that merely help to carry us to the door.
The solutions to bandage the limping behemoth of liturgical music seem equally unclear and paradoxical.
A sacred place calls for authentic sacred music. Photo provided by Julie Szamlewski
Critics of contemporary church music claim it is too modern or not modern enough, much too traditional or hardly traditional enough.
For some, Mass would be less boring if it was more entertaining. To them, Mass would be more exciting and relevant if accompanied by music that was catchy, upbeat and performed in popular styles.
Nevertheless, the purpose of music in the Mass is neither to please nor to entertain; rather, music exists in the liturgy only to give glory and honor to God using the gift of the human voice.
Music that is clap-happy and feel good may have a place at an appropriate venue like a local concert or dance, but this doesn’t mean it must be allowed to enter the sanctuary.
The church has always had to discern what constitutes authentic sacred music. Certain elements, instruments and styles have been linked to the “sacred,” while others by association have been labeled profane and not worthy of the temple of God.
The art of the church’s discernment has been fashioned throughout the course of centuries. Contrary to the popular beliefs of some, abuses to the church’s liturgy and music are neither particularly new nor original.
In the medieval period, composers developed “parody Masses” that set the theme or text of a Mass to secular music that allowed the Mass to sound like the popular hits of the era.
Later on, foreign instruments to the liturgy, such as the guitar, entered the Renaissance repertoire of sacred music. For this reason, Ennio Morricone, popular composer of the hugely successful soundtrack of the movie, “The Mission,” decries that, “today the church has made a big mistake, turning the clock back 500 years with guitars and popular songs.” Even the influence of opera crept into the liturgy, prompting Pope Pius X in 1903 to issue an encyclical on the fundamental qualities of sacred music.
To counter these influences, the church recommends plumbing the depths of its traditional treasury of music. All sacred music essentially stems from Gregorian chant, an unaccompanied plainsong with roots reaching back into the psalm singing in the Jewish synagogues.
In addition, the church recommends the polyphonic music of the Renaissance and Baroque periods, the heavenly sounds produced by complex multi-layered voices and texts in the works of Palestrina, Victoria and Lassus.
While there is always room for the development of new music, it must be marked by a style that is traditional in nature and that organically blossoms out of what has come before. Pope John Paul II thus sets the standard for liturgical music as “the more closely a composition for the church approaches the Gregorian form in its movement, inspiration and savor the more sacred and liturgical it becomes; and the more out of harmony it is with that supreme model, the less worthy it is of the temple.”
Since Gregorian chant has nearly vanished from all parishes in the United States, how can we claim to be fulfilling the church’s call to have our places of worship resound with music worthy of the temple of God?
In the end, music is not a pleasant addition to an otherwise somber service. It is not like the background soundtrack to a movie. Instead, music is an inherent part of the liturgy. Indeed, Gregorian chant developed along with the Roman Rite, inseparably infused and intertwined. It is, quite simply, prayer before it is anything else. At times, this realization is lost as musicians situate themselves at the front of church and see themselves as on stage for a performance. Perhaps this is even more lost when applause breaks out and one’s attention is diverted from heavenly realities and stifled by the mundane.
Even after all of our contemporary styles and relevant music, why are we still bored? Might it be because our music has ceased to become prayer? Might it be because it has ceased to raise our hearts and minds to God? How much longer must the People of God endure the trite and aesthetically impoverished hymns of the 1970s? Perhaps it is only the universally enduring treasury of the church’s sacred music that can lift the veil of boredom by immersing the believer in a contemplative union with God. This sense of mystery and awe, far from being boring, ignites one with the holy fire of longing for God. It is the sober inebriation of the Holy Spirit. It is to sing with love.
Kevin D. Magas
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