We are happy to share this announcement from Mr Christopher Jasper and the Gregorian Chant Academy, about an upcoming presentation on the birth of liturgical polyphony.
Whether we look to the classical mastery of Palestrina and Bach, or the structures of modern secular music, the DNA of Western music can ultimately be traced back to the sacred repository of Gregorian chant. Right at the center of this historical lineage stands one man, perhaps the singular, most influential musician of all time: the eleventh-century Benedictine monk Guido d’Arezzo, the inventor of the diatonic scale. This year marks the 1000th anniversary of the publication of one his most widely-diffused and influential works, the Micrologus.
But Guido’s revolutionary developments did not emerge from a historical vacuum. Before his time, a critical foundation was laid by two anonymous ninth-century musical treatises: the Musica Enchiriadis and the Scolica Enchiriadis (“The Music and School Handbook”). These little-known texts provide our earliest surviving written description of how to sing in harmony, a practice historically known as diaphony or organum.
To mark the anniversary of Guido’s Micrologus, the Gregorian Chant Academy is launching a new video mini-series exploring how these ancient roots shaped Western harmony. Episode 1: The Birth of Written Harmony in the West premieres this coming Monday on YouTube. The full episode can be viewed here on YouTube next Monday: https://youtu.be/KdZzvviz4-g
LITURGICAL UNITY AND THE SCIENCE OF NUMBER
For the medieval intellectual, music was not primarily a vehicle for personal self-expression, but rather a rigorous branch of the curriculum of studies known as the quadrivium, alongside arithmetic, geometry, and astronomy. It was a science of number, proportion, and divine order.
The upcoming episode steps directly into the Carolingian soundscape to unpack how these mathematical principles directly addressed an important pastoral crisis:
The Carolingian Context: In the ninth century, Frankish rulers demanded strict political and liturgical unity, requiring the supplanting of local Gallican rites in favor of the Roman rite.
The Crisis of Memory: Entire dioceses were suddenly forced to learn an immense new repertoire of Roman melodies without the aid of precise, pitch-specific notation, relying entirely on voices and memory.
The Monochord as Theological Proof: Using the Pythagorean monochord, medieval theorists demonstrated that the primary consonances – the Octave, the Fifth, and the Fourth – were audible icons of the cosmic and theological order established by God.
THE MECHANICS OF EARLY ORGANUM: BENDING THE THEORY
How did ninth-century cantors actually harmonize sacred chant without falling into chaotic dissonance? While early forms of organum (singing in parallel intervals) seemed straightforward on paper, applying rigid mathematical scale systems to real human voices immediately exposed major vulnerabilities – including forbidden clashing intervals and completely broken octaves.
In the first episode, we look at the fascinating, hands-on boundaries the Musica Enchiriadis introduced to solve these practical problems. We will explore the structural origins of independent voice leading through the birth of “oblique motio”", unpack how phrases elegantly converged back into unison at cadences (the occursus), and discover the astonishing exceptions where ancient singers were explicitly allowed to use “wondrous changes” and ”deliberate errors” to protect the organic beauty of a liturgical melody when the rigid math of the scale wouldn’t allow it.
A PASTORAL RESOURCE FOR MODERN SCHOLAS
This exploration is not merely an academic exercise in codicology. Understanding the transition from a purely oral tradition to the earliest written rules of polyphony provides profound practical tools for today’s parish choir loft. It reminds us that our sacred music tradition is a living lineage. When a modern schola experiments with simple organum, using boundary tones and drones to navigate tricky vocal intervals, they are participating in the exact same search for ordered beauty that occupied our ninth-century ancestors.
Please join us this Monday, June 29, for the premiere of Episode 1, and consider subscribing to the channel as we continue this journey through the medieval treatises toard the great synthesis of Guido d’Arezzo.
O how delightful, * o Lord, is thy Spirit, Who, that Thou may show Thy sweetness unto Thy children, having granted them most sweet bread from heaven, fillest the hungry with good things, and sendest away empty the scornful rich. (The Magnificat antiphon for First Vespers of Corpus Christi.)
Aña O quam suávis est, * Dómine, spíritus tuus, qui, ut dulcédinem tuam in filios demonstráres, pane suavíssimo de caelo prǽstito, esurientes reples bonis, fastidiósos dívites dimittens inánes.
A very nice polyphonic setting by the Spanish composer Alonso Lobo (1555-1617), a contemporary of Victoria, who held him in the highest regard.
Another by William Byrd (1540 ca. - 1623)
A particularly fine recording of the Gregorian melody of the hymn Pange, lingua, gloriosi Corporis mysterium, which is sung at both Vespers.
And finally, an absolutely splendid version by Victoria himself, alternating a different Gregorian melody with polyphony.
In the Roman Breviary, the feasts of the Apostles and Martyrs share a special proper Office which is used only in Eastertide, with different antiphons, responsories, chapters and versicles from those said during the rest of the year. This tradition is common to all Uses of the Roman Rite; many medieval breviaries (e.g. that of the Premonstratensians) develop it further, and extend at least some of these features to other categories of Saints. The Apostles, however, are the only ones whose Office also has proper hymns for Eastertide. This applies to the feasts of St Mark the Evangelist, whose First Vespers are celebrated this evening, of Ss Philip and James on May 1st, and the feast of St John at the Latin Gate on the 6th. It also applies to the feast of St Barnabas on June 11, but only in the extremely rare years when Easter falls on its latest possible date, April 25. (This has happened only 4 times since the Gregorian calendar was promulgated in 1582, and will happen only ten times in this millennium.)
Properly speaking, the Vespers hymn Tristes erant Apostoli, (which is repeated at Matins), and the Lauds hymn Claro paschali gaudio are both parts of the hymn Aurora lucis rutilat, which is sung at Lauds of the Sundays and ferias of the Easter season. This hymn is undoubtedly very ancient, and was often attributed to St Ambrose, but this attribution is now regarded as incorrect, and it is not used at all in the Ambrosian Office. In the Mozarabic Rite, which has a strong tendency toward the prolix in its use of hymns, all twelve stanzas are sung daily at Prime in Eastertide. Here we see it in the edition published in 1775.
Pope Urban VIII’s classicizing revision of both parts is one of the least successful aspects of that reform, and fully justifies the famous bon mot often said against it, “Accessit latinitas, recessit pietas – Latinity came in, and piety went out.” Fortunately, the mighty Tomás Luis de Victoria composed this splendid version in alternating chant and polyphony before the reformed versions became standard. (The version in the post-Conciliar Liturgy of the Hours is much closer to the original. See the Latin original and an English translation by John Mason Neale at this link: https://www.preces-latinae.org/thesaurus/Hymni/AuroraLucis.html)
Another version, also in alternating chant and polyphony, by Victoria’s fellow Spaniard, priest and composer Francisco Guerrero (1528-99).
Back in November, we shared a report from Dr Emily Meixner on the Schola Cantorum Program for young people which she directs at the Shrine of St Martin of Tours in Louisville, Kentucky. With a view to the upcoming season of Fore-lent, which starts in two weeks, Dr Meixner recently sent us notice of the schola’s recording of a polyphonic version of the Communio for Septuagesima Sunday by Heinrich Isaac (ca. 1450 - 1527.) Isaac’s monumental work known as the Choralis Constantinus contains over 375 polyphonic settings of Mass propers from every part of the liturgical year.
The chant melody is heard in long notes sung by the sopranos. The text is taken from Psalm 30, 17-18: “Illumina faciem tuam super servum tuum, et salvum me fac in misericordia tua: Domine, non confundar, quoniam invocavi te. – Show Thy servant the light of thy countenance: and save me for Thy mercy's sake. Lord, let me not be confounded, for I have called upon Thee.”
The Choir of St Martin of Tours consists of both volunteers and paid section leaders and sings weekly for Masses on Sundays and holy days throughout the year, as well as occasionally for monthly Vespers and Compline.
This year, the Church is commemorating the fifth centenary of the birth of one of the greatest composers of liturgical music in her history, Giovanni Pierluigi da Palestrina (1525-94). Yesterday, in the Sala Regia of the Apostolic Palace, Pope Leo was present for an event in celebration of Palestrina, organized by the Cardinal Domenico Bartolucci Foundation. (Cardinal Bartolucci, himself a prolific composer, was also director of the Sistine Chapel Choir, and dedicated much of his life to preserving the tradition of the Roman school of polyphony embodied by his illustrious predecessor of the 16th century.) The Pope spoke about the use of sacred polyphony in the liturgy in words which should be very encouraging to those who work as Cardinal Bartolucci did to keep the precious heritage of our liturgical tradition alive, not just as music for concert performance, but as music for prayer. Those who believe that such music should be excluded from the liturgy because it does not foster “participation”, as it is so commonly and shallowly understood, would do well to consider these wise words, which are, of course, fully consonant with the Church’s long-standing tradition and teaching on the use of sacred music, and no less so with the words of the Second Vatican Council en regard.
A recording of Palestrina’s Missa Papae Marcelli, cited by Pope Leo.
“Giovanni Pierluigi da Palestrina was ... one of the composers who contributed most to the promotion of sacred music ‘for the glory of God, and the edification of the faithful.’ (St Pius X, Motu proprio Tra le sollecitudini1, Nov. 22, 1903, 1), in the difficult, but at the same time exciting, context of the Counter-Reformation. His compositions, solemn and austere, inspired by Gregorian chant, closely unite music and liturgy, ‘both by giving to prayer a more delightful expression, and favoring unity (of minds), and by enriching the sacred rites with greater solemnity.’ (Sacrosanctum Concilium, 112).
Polyphony itself ... is a musical form full of significance for prayer and for the Christian life. First of all, it is inspired by the sacred text, which it proposes ‘to clothe with suitable melody’, so that it may better ‘reach the understanding of the faithful.’ (Tra le sollecitudini, 1) Furthermore, it realizes this goal by giving the words to several voices, which repeat them each in its own way, with complementary melodic and harmonic movements. All is harmonized thanks to the expertise with which the composer develops and weaves the melodies together, respecting the rules of counterpoint, making each one an echo of the others, and at times creating dissonances which then find resolution in new harmonies. The effect of this dynamic unity in diversity – a metaphor for our common journey of faith under the guidance of the Holy Spirit – is to help those who hear to enter ever more deeply into the mystery expressed by the words, replying, where opportune, with responsories or in alternatim.
Thanks precisely to this richness of form and content, the Roman polyphonic tradition, besides leaving us with an immense patrimony of art and spirituality, continues to be even today in the field of music a reference point to be considered, with due modifications, in sacred and liturgical composition, so that through music, ‘the faithful may participate fully, consciously and actively in the liturgy’, (Sacrosanctum Concilium, 14), with profound involvement of the voice, the mind and the heart. The Missa Papae Marcelli is an example of this par excellence in its genre, as is the precious repertoire of compositions left to us by the unforgettable Cardinal Domenico Bartolucci, illustrious composer, and for nearly 50 years director of the Pontifical Sistine Choir.”
By the way, today is the 43rd anniversary of the Holy Father’s priestly ordination, which took place in the church of St Monica in Rome, very close to the Vatican. This church is part of the Augustinian Order’s complex in Rome that also houses its well-regarded school for the study of the Church Fathers, the Augustinianum. When he was made a cardinal on Sept. 30, 2023, the same church was given to him as his cardinalitial title.
O how delightful, * o Lord, is thy Spirit, Who, that Thou may show Thy sweetness unto Thy children, having granted them most sweet bread from heaven, fillest the hungry with good things, and sendest away empty the scornful rich. (The Magnificat antiphon for First Vespers of Corpus Christi.)
Aña O quam suávis est, * Dómine, spíritus tuus, qui, ut dulcédinem tuam in filios demonstráres, pane suavíssimo de caelo prǽstito, esurientes reples bonis, fastidiósos dívites dimittens inánes.
A very nice polyphonic setting by the Spanish composer Alonso Lobo (1555-1617), a contemporary of Victoria, who held him in the highest regard.
Another by William Byrd (1540 ca. - 1623)
A particularly fine recording of the Gregorian melody of the hymn Pange, lingua, gloriosi Corporis mysterium, which is sung at both Vespers.
And finally, an absolutely splendid version by Victoria himself, alternating a different Gregorian melody with polyphony.
The Vespers hymn for Passiontide Vexilla Regis, in alternating Gregorian chant, according to a different melody than the classic Roman one, and polyphony by Tomás Luis de Victoria.
Dómine, non secundum peccáta nostra, quae fécimus nos: neque secundum iniquitátes nostras retríbuas nobis. V. Dómine, ne memíneris iniquitátum nostrárum antiquárum: cito antícipent nos misericórdiae tuae, quia páuperes facti sumus nimis. Hic genuflectiturV. Adjuva nos, Deus, salutáris noster: et propter gloriam nóminis tui, Dómine, líbera nos: et propitius esto peccátis nostris, propter nomen tuum.
Tract O Lord, not according to the sins which we have committed, nor according to our iniquities do Thou repay us.
V. Lord, remember not our former iniquities: let thy mercies speedily come before us, for we are become exceeding poor. All kneel.V. Help us, O God, our Savior: and for the glory of Thy name, O Lord, deliver us: and be merciful to our sins for Thy name’s sake.
This beautiful tract is sung every Monday, Wednesday and Friday of Lent until Holy Monday, with the exception of Ember Wednesday. Here is a polyphonic version by the Spanish composer Juan de Anchieta (1462-1523.)
Princeton Theological Seminary Chapel, Princeton, New Jersey, December 5th, 8 pm: non-ticketed, entrance is free.
In what promises to be a wonderful concert, the choral group Demestvo will present “Lost Polyphonies,” a program showcasing the earliest
traditions of vocal polyphony from Europe, performed alongside contemporary compositions that
engage with these chant traditions. The concert will feature music from Russia, Georgia,
Byzantium, France, and England, including world premieres of newly transcribed chants that
have not been heard for over 300 years. Alongside these pieces, Demestvo and guest artists
will perform new works by Princeton graduate composers Justin Wright, Lucy McKnight, and
Caroline Shaw.
Named after a Slavic polyphonic chant tradition, Demestvo is a quartet founded by Princeton
University musicology PhD student and soprano Anastasia Shmytova. Conceived as part of her
dissertation research on medieval Slavic chant and early polyphony, Demestvo is committed to
bringing the unique sound world of this unheard music to contemporary audiences.
This event is co-sponsored by scalafoundation.org (for whom I am Artist-in-Residence). I hope to see you there!
O Crux, splendidior cunctis astris, mundo celebris, hominibus multum amabilis, sanctior universis: quae sola fuisti digna portare talentum mundi: dulce lignum, dulces clavos, dulcia ferens pondera: salva praesentem catervam in tuis hodie laudibus congregatam. (Antiphon of the Magnificat at First Vespers of the Exaltation of the Cross.)
“O Cross, more splendid than all the stars, renowned in the world, much beloved of all men, holier than all things, who only were worthy to bear the Price of the world: o sweet wood, that bearest the sweet nails, the sweet burdens; save the present company, gathered this day in praise of thee.”
This is not, of course, the Gregorian version of this text for use as an antiphon, but a polyphonic motet made from it by the Netherlandish composer Adrian Willaert, (ca. 1490-1562), and sung by the ensemble Henry’s Eight. (They are named for King Henry VIII, the founder of Trinity College, Cambridge, where they originally formed in 1992.)
The Exaltation of the Cross also provides an opportunity to sing once again at Vespers the famous Passiontide hymn Vexilla Regis, one of the masterpieces of the 6th century writer St Venantius Fortunatus. Here the ensemble AdOriente (which is correct Italian, not Latin) alternates the classic Gregorian melody with an unnamed polyphonic setting.
The alternation of Gregorian and polyphony was a popular way of setting hymns especially in the Counter-Reformation, and some of the best examples are those of Spanish composer Tomás Luis de Victória. This version is particularly interesting for two reasons; the melody of the Gregorian parts is quite different from the Roman one, and the text of the hymn is that used before it was revised by Pope Urban VIII, (given here with Spanish translation.)
In the Byzantine Rite, the Exaltation of the Cross is one of the few days on which the Trisagion, “Holy God, Holy Mighty, Holy Immortal, have mercy on us!” is replaced by a different text, “We adore Thy Cross, o Lord, and we glorify Thy holy Resurrection.” (The Trisagion is sung between the kontakia, the variable hymn of the Sunday or Saint’s feast, and the Prokimen which introduces the Epistle.) The latter text is also sung the 3rd Sunday of Lent, the Sunday of the Veneration of the Cross, as seen here in the Orthodox cathedral of Kropyvnytskyi in central Ukraine.
Here is an interesting discovery via the YouTube suggestion algorithm: a polyphonic setting of the Matins lessons for the Office of the Dead, composed by Orlando di Lassus (1532-94), and published in 1565. Very little information about them is to be found on the internet, but the channel on which this video is hosted has a note that they were composed perhaps as much ten years earlier, when he was only 23. In 1556, Di Lassus began working at the court of Albrecht V, Duke of Bavaria, and would stay there for the rest of his life. A friend of mine who is very knowledgeable about the music of this period tells me that the Bavarian ducal chapel already had an anonymous complete polyphonic setting of the Matins and Lauds of the Dead from around 1550, with settings of the antiphons, faux-bourdons versions of the psalms, and responsories, but not the lessons so perhaps this work was put together in its published form to complete the Office. (In the 1580s, Di Lassus composed a second version of the same texts.) If anyone knows more about these, and specifically, about how they would have been used liturgically, perhaps you could explain more about them in the combox.
The lessons are divided into two or three parts.
1. chapter 7, 16-21 (2 parts)
2. 10, 1-7 (3 parts)
3. 10, 8-12 (2 parts)
4. 13, 22-28 (2 parts)
5. 14, 1-6 (3 parts)
6. 14, 13-16 (2 parts)
7. 17, 1-3; 11-16 (3 parts)
8. 19, 20-27 (3 parts)
9. 10, 18-22 (2 parts)
He also did a setting of the seven Penitential Psalms, which make for especially appropriate listening in the Lenten season. Before the Tridentine reform, these were said on every ferial day of Lent in the Divine Office according to most Uses of the Roman Rite. The breviary of St Pius V reduced the obligation to all ferial Fridays, and the reform of Pope Clement VIII (1602) reduced it further to just the Fridays of Lent; the obligation was then completely cancelled by St Pius X.
Dómine, non secundum peccáta nostra, quae fécimus nos: neque secundum iniquitátes nostras retríbuas nobis. V. Dómine, ne memíneris iniquitátum nostrárum antiquárum: cito antícipent nos misericordiae tuae, quia páuperes facti sumus nimis. Hic genuflectiturV. Adjuva nos, Deus, salutáris noster: et propter gloriam nóminis tui, Dómine, líbera nos: et propitius esto peccátis nostris, propter nomen tuum.
Tract O Lord, not according to the sins which we have committed, nor according to our iniquities do Thou repay us.
V. Lord, remember not our former iniquities: let thy mercies speedily come before us, for we are become exceeding poor. All kneel.V. Help us, O God, our Savior: and for the glory of Thy name, O Lord, deliver us: and be merciful to our sins for Thy name’s sake.
Beginning on Ash Wednesday, this beautiful tract is traditionally sung every Monday, Wednesday and Friday of Lent until Holy Monday, with the exception of Ember Wednesday. Several composers have put their hand to setting in polyphony, such as the great Josquin des Prez (1450/5 ca. - 1521).
Another version, by his Spanish contemporary Juan de Anchieta (1462-1523).
The next generation is represented by a Frenchman named Jacquet Colebault (), who spent most of his life as master of the chapel in the cathedral of the northern Italian city of Mantua. (He is usually called Jacquet de Mantua, or ‘de Mantoue’ in French.) His very impressive version is nearly 10 minutes long.
Another version, by Jacques Arcadelt (1507-68), who was born in Namur in the County of Flanders (now part of Belgium), but also worked much of his life in Italy, in both Florence and in the Sistine Chapel in Rome, and ended his days in the French royal chapel.
The Martyrology notes today as the feast of a Saint called Donatianus (‘Donatien’ or ‘Donat’ in French, ‘Donatiaan’ or ‘Donaas’ in Dutch), who served as the seventh or eighth bishop of Reims in France from roughly 360-90. Alban Butler’s original Lives of the Saints has no information to offer about him, other than a mention of the translation of his relics to Bruges in 863; in the revised modern edition, he is not included at all. He was adopted as the local patron Saint, and a large collegiate church was dedicated to him. When Bruges became the seat of a bishopric in 1562, this church was made the cathedral, but it was destroyed when the city was overrun by the French revolutionary army; in France itself, the church from which he was translated, the royal abbey of St Nicasius outside Reims, was also destroyed.
The Madonna with Ss Donatianus and George, and Canon Joris van der Paele, ca. 1435, by Jan van Eyck. (Joris is Dutch for George.) Donatianus’ instrument, in addition to his mitre and crozier, is a wheel with five candles on it; this comes from a legend that he was thrown into the Tiber while visiting Rome, but saved from drowning by the pope, who threw him a wooden carriage wheel which he was able to use as a flotation device. (Public domain image from Wikimedia Commons; click to see in high resolution. The painting has its own article on Wikipedia, which offers a lot of interesting detail about its history.)
In the later 15th century, there lived in Bruges a very successful and wealthy fur merchant named Donaas de Moor, who was active in civic life, and, along with his wife Adriane de Vos, a magnificently generous benefactor to the poor; he was dean of the fur traders’ guild, and by turns alderman, mayor and treasurer of the city, as well as a guardian of a pilgrim hospice, and founder of an almshouse. The couple were equally generous to their parish, the church of St James the Apostle, to which they donated the altarpiece of the high altar and the choir stalls, and maintained a chantry chapel behind the high altar, dedicated to their name Saints.
Triptych of the Deposition from the Cross, ca. 1475, by the anonymous Netherlandish painter known as the Master of the St Lucy Legend. This was commissioned for the altar of the de Moors’ chantry; on the side panels, Donaas de Moor and Adriane de Vos are shown kneeling with their respective name Saints behind them. (Public domain image from Wikimedia Commons.)
However, in May of 1483, Donaas de Moor was exiled from Bruges for political reasons; he retired to a country estate, and died only four months later. In his will, he left provision for the creation of a Mass in honor of his Patron Saint, which was then commissioned from the Flemish composer Jacob Obrecht (1457-1505), and sung for the first time in the church of St James on the Saint’s feast day in 1487.
Here is a splendid recording of a concert performance of the Mass done by the Tallis Scholars in that very same church in 2018; the video also gives a decent tour of the building.
As promised last week, here is the superb talk which Dr Emily Thelen gave last Monday about devotion to the Seven Sorrows of the Virgin in the Low Countries in the later 15th centuries, and an important manuscript that contains a very beautiful Mass composed for that feast. This talk was held as part of an ongoing lecture series offered by the Catholic Institute of Sacred Music; the next one in the series will be on Tuesday, November 7th, at 5:45 pm Pacific.
This past Monday, I attended a supremely interesting online talk by Dr Emily Thelen, hosted by the Catholic Institute of Sacred Music as part of a recurring lecture series. Her subject was the devotion to the Seven Sorrows of the Virgin, and particularly, its emergence in the later 15th century in the Low Countries, and how it was promoted by some of the secular rulers of the area through art and music. I cannot pretend to do justice to the lecture by summarizing it; fortunately, it will soon be posted on YouTube so we can share it here. However, I can do justice to the work which was her principal subject, a manuscript by one Pierre Alamire, by posting these videos of the magnificent Mass of the Seven Sorrows which it contains, recorded by the Belgium-based Early Music ensemble Capilla Flamenca.
Alamire is a nom-de-plume, the pitch signature A and the musical notes La-Mi-Re. He was born in Nuremberg, Bavaria, ca. 1470, with the last name Imhoff or Imhove, which became van den Hove when he moved to the Dutch-speaking parts of the Low Countries in his youth. He was very talented not only as a composer, but also as a creator of beautifully illuminated musical manuscripts, which were highly sought after. As a result of his renown in this field, he traveled a good deal, which led to him serving for a time as a spy for King Henry VIII of England and Thomas Cardinal Wolsey.
The manuscript which Dr Thelen describes in her talk contains inter alia this Mass by the French composer Pierre de La Rue (1452 ca. - 1520), made at the behest of Philip I, Duke of Burgundy (1482-1506; born 1478), who was a great promotor of the devotion to the Sorrowful Mother in a period of great social and political turmoil within his domains.
The name “Capilla Flamenca”, by the way, is Spanish for “the Flemish chapel.” This refers to the fact that the Spanish Habsburg court under the Emperor Charles V and his successor was so generous in its patronage of music that it maintained two full-time choirs, a native choir, the “capilla española”, and another of musicians brought down from its possessions in the Low Countries.
Our Western art-music is the loftiest of God’s gifts to us in the natural order, the greatest artistic treasure the world has ever known, and, in its specifically liturgical manifestations, a vital, indispensable bearer of the theology, spirituality, meaning, and identity of the Catholic religion. We cannot live well without it; we will not pray well without it either.
Music is the language of the soul, its most intimate and exalted expression. Music goes deeply into the soul, into its passions and emotions; it affects us at the intersection of spirit and flesh, it gets “under the skin,” it goes into the very sense-appetites and shapes them by motion, by repetition. Just as habits of virtue or vice are formed in the sense-appetites by repeated action, so too are certain habits formed in the same appetites by repeated sensual stimulation. What we listen to does not remain “outside” of us but enters into us and changes our way of feeling, reacting, perceiving. We cannot help being affected morally by long-term exposure to any kind of music.
The sound that is language comes from our unique mode of being in this world—as being in the world, due to our physicality, but not of it, due to our being rational creatures made in the image of God. The sound that is music, for its part, is the finest flowering of language. No wonder it is the province of worship, loss and lamentation, exultation and joy! For it is a wonder past all other wonders that proceed from the heart of man. Christians, inasmuch as we are “priests, prophets, and kings” by our baptism into Christ the High Priest, Word of God, and King of Kings, deserve and require a diet of the most artistically beautiful, most emotionally satisfying, most intellectually stimulating, and most spiritually beneficial music. In short: we need, for our human and Christian perfection, music that is both good and great. Surrounding it, sustaining it, we need prayer-saturated silence.
Such is the fundamental thesis of my new book Good Music, Sacred Music, and Silence: Three Gifts of God for Liturgy and for Life, which has just been released by TAN Books of Gastonia, North Carolina. Born of decades of experience, study, and reflection as a singer, choir director, composer, and teacher, and seasoned by countless conversations with college students in particular, this work urges readers to take the art of music as seriously as it ought to be taken.
The first part, “Music Fit for Kings: The Role of Good Music in the Christian’s Life,” deals with the corrosive cultural and psychological effects of a lot of modern popular music, contrasted with the numerous benefits of a lifelong apprenticeship to the great music of the Western tradition (including the many excellent composers working today). Here, I draw upon thinkers such as Plato, Aristotle, Aquinas, Pieper, and Ratzinger, and offer concrete strategies for acquiring or deepening a love of beautiful music.
The second part, “Music Fit for the King of Kings: The Role of Sacred Music in the Church’s Life,” provides a thorough philosophical and theological account of what is right about Gregorian chant, polyphony, and pipe organ, and what is wrong with, say, folksy guitar-and-piano or peppy Praise & Worship genres at Mass. I do not hesitate to name names and to pursue my argument to the nitty-gritty level.
In the last and (appropriately) shortest part, I speak of the ways in which silence is both the origin and the fulfillment of music. The book ends with a thorough defense of the more-than-thousand-year-old custom of the silent Canon in the Mass, the fittingness of which Cardinal Ratzinger praised, more recently joined by Cardinal Sarah.
Here’s the Table of Contents:
Good Music, Sacred Music, and Silence was written for the benefit of pastors, seminarians, church musicians, homeschooling families, classical curriculum advocates, and everyone who is already in love with music or is seeking to develop a better knowledge of it. To musicians particularly, I would add: in my meandering journey from
a childhood liberal parish and contemporary youth group (all the while listening to prog rock, heavy rock, rap, and other, dare I call them, genres), to
a charismatic prayer group (when my listening incorporated some “Christian pop” artists), to
a Latin Novus Ordo with a chant schola (by which time I had switched over entirely to “classical” music), to
immersion in the Byzantine liturgy in Austria, to
a mixed old-and-new-Mass chaplaincy in Wyoming, to
life in parishes run by the Institute of Christ the King Sovereign Priest and the Priestly Fraternity of Saint Peter,
it is highly likely that I have been, for some portion of my life, in a situation similar to that in which any Catholic musician, music director, or music lover may ever find himself; so I believe my book will carry the force of conviction born of experience, and will be able to say something relevant and beneficial to readers from a wide range of backgrounds.
Nowadays I am singing in a fine men’s schola every Sunday and most holy days, and look forward — if anything, ever more as time goes on — to the joy of singing these incomparably wonderful ancient plainchant melodies, so perfectly suited for the rites to which they give musical utterance and shape. Their beauty elevates my mind to God; their tranquility comforts my heart. This is a joy in the beautiful that we should eagerly share with everyone, until they too can know it and benefit from it.
Nothing could be better than the flourishing, everywhere, and to the fullest extent, of great secular music and of the finest sacred music in the liturgy. That is why I have written my latest book, and I hope you’ll check it out.
Good Music, Sacred Music, and Silence: Three Gifts of God for Liturgy and for Life (hardcover, 344 pp., $29.95, ISBN 978-1505122282) is available from the publisher, from Amazon, and from the author if you would like a signed copy.
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Mary Harrell of TAN Books conducted a 26-minute interview with me about the book, for those who might be interested:
The fourth season of Square Notes: The Sacred Music Podcast has been published, and the upcoming weeks promise many excellent interviews. Check out the three episodes so far from this season, and look for several episodes per week over the upcoming weeks. The podcast is available on YouTube, Spotify, Podcasts, Stitcher, Amazon, and other platforms.
Dómine, non secundum peccáta nostra, quae fécimus nos: neque secundum iniquitátes nostras retríbuas nobis. V. Dómine, ne memíneris iniquitátum nostrárum antiquárum: cito antícipent nos misericórdiae tuae, quia páuperes facti sumus nimis. Hic genuflectiturV. Adjuva nos, Deus, salutáris noster: et propter gloriam nóminis tui, Dómine, líbera nos: et propitius esto peccátis nostris, propter nomen tuum.
Tract O Lord, not according to the sins which we have committed, nor according to our iniquities do Thou repay us.
V. Lord, remember not our former iniquities: let thy mercies speedily come before us, for we are become exceeding poor. All kneel.V. Help us, O God, our Savior: and for the glory of Thy name, O Lord, deliver us: and be merciful to our sins for Thy name’s sake.
This beautiful tract is sung every Monday, Wednesday and Friday of Lent until Holy Monday, with the exception of Ember Wednesday. Here is a polyphonic version by the Spanish composer Juan de Anchieta (1462-1523.)
Upon the rivers of Babylon, there we sat and wept, when we remembered thee, o Zion. (The Offertory chant of the 20th Sunday after Pentecost.)
The bodily captivity (of which the Offertory speaks) signifies our spiritual captivity; the return from captivity is the forgiveness of sins. ... Therefore, lest we return to a similar captivity, and be shut out of the wedding feast (in last week’s Gospel, Matthew 22, 1-14), Paul warns us in the Epistle, “See to it that ye walk with care, not as the unwise, but as the wise.” The Introit Omnia quae fecisti is the voice of Daniel remembering that past captivity, and ascribing it to the judgment of God; likewise, in the Offertory, we weep over that captivity, but in the Gradual Oculi omnium, we give thanks (for deliverance from it). - William Durandus, Rationale Divinorum Officiorum 6.137 in fine.
This text has also been used by some of finest composers of liturgical polyphony, including Palestrina,
Orlando de Lassus (an historical recording from 1961),
and Victoria, who was having a particularly good day when he wrote this.
O Crux, splendidior cunctis astris, mundo celebris, hominibus multum amabilis, sanctior universis: quae sola fuisti digna portare talentum mundi: dulce lignum, dulces clavos, dulcia ferens pondera: salva praesentem catervam in tuis hodie laudibus congregatam. (Antiphon of the Magnificat at First Vespers of the Exaltation of the Cross.)
“O Cross, more splendid than all the stars, renowned in the world, much beloved of all men, holier than all things, who only were worthy to bear the Price of the world: o sweet wood, that bearest the sweet nails, the sweet burdens; save the present company, gathered this day in praise of thee.”
This is not, of course, the Gregorian version of this text for use as an antiphon, but a polyphonic motet made from it by the Netherlandish composer Adrian Willaert, (ca. 1490-1562), and sung by the ensemble Henry’s Eight. (They are named for King Henry VIII, the founder of Trinity College, Cambridge, where they originally formed in 1992.)
The Exaltation of the Cross also provides an opportunity to sing once again at Vespers the famous Passiontide hymn Vexilla Regis, one of the masterpieces of the 6th century writer St Venantius Fortunatus. Here the ensemble AdOriente (which is correct Italian, not Latin) alternates the classic Gregorian melody with an unnamed polyphonic setting.
The alternation of Gregorian and polyphony was a popular way of setting hymns especially in the Counter-Reformation, and some of the best examples are those of Spanish composer Tomás Luis de Victória. This version is particularly interesting for two reasons; the melody of the Gregorian parts is quite different from the Roman one, and the text of the hymn is that used before it was revised by Pope Urban VIII, (given here with Spanish translation.)
In the Byzantine Rite, the Exaltation of the Cross is one of the few days on which the Trisagion, “Holy God, Holy Mighty, Holy Immortal, have mercy on us!” is replaced by a different text, “We adore Thy Cross, o Lord, and we glorify Thy holy Resurrection.” (The Trisagion is sung between the kontakia, the variable hymn of the Sunday or Saint’s feast, and the Prokimen which introduces the Epistle.) The latter text is also sung the 3rd Sunday of Lent, the Sunday of the Veneration of the Cross, as seen here in the Orthodox cathedral of Kropyvnytskyi in central Ukraine.
Many texts from the Byzantine Rite have also been recast as motets; this setting of “We adore Thy Cross” is sung by the choir of the Trinity Lavra of St Sergius, one the most important monasteries in Russia.