Below is an excellent lecture on the history, characteristics, qualities, and purpose of Gregorian Chant. I too have a love for Gregorian Chant and I sing it as part of a men’s Latin Schola in my parish for the 7:30 AM Sunday Mass, which is Novus Ordo, but is more solemn and traditional. I view it as a step to help our parish move towards traditional Catholicism — or just Catholicism. However, although my love for chant continues to grow, I am rather ignorant of its true riches.
At the 2020 Grammy Awards the progressive rock band Tool won the award for Best Metal Performance with their song 7EMPEST from their album Fear Inoculum. When two of the band’s members came to the stage to accept the award, the first to speak was the tall, blond drummer Danny Carey.
Although I did not see their acceptance moment when it happened, I read that Carey had said a short tribute to the recently deceased drummer, Neil Peart of the mega prog band Rush. Peart was one of the greatest rock drummers in history, a true phenomenon in the music world, and one of my favorite musicians. I first heard Peart play in the early 1980’s when I bought the album “Exit… Stage Left” and and nearly wore the grooves flat joyfully playing it ad nauseum.
Hearing of Carey’s mention of Peart, I checked out Tool, and especially their latest album. I had heard of them years ago, but never really listened to their music, so much of what I write here will already be well known to some of you. I discovered they are very, very good (they did just win a Grammy, and have won others), and I liked the first several tracks a lot. In particular I focused on Carey’s drumming, and he is amazing; a true master of his craft. Part way into the album I decided to learn more about Tool and about Carey.
What I discovered disturbed me.
Danny Carey is a gifted, world class musician. From his Grammys acceptance speech he also seems like a great guy, a loving husband and father, and I would assume he is a kind and gentle man. I have nothing against him and, in fact, wish him all the best. Of course, as a Catholic, I also wish him the grace and mercy of God, things we are all in desperate need of.
But here’s my concern: Carey is into the occult, and it appears he does not merely dabble, but takes it quite seriously — is a practitioner of some expertise. In fact, his father was a master Freemason. Since Carey was a child he has been deeply fascinated with the occult. His drumming is an extension, in a way, of his occult practices; even a way to channel demons. Read his bio below to learn some of the salient details of his occult studies and their role in his music.
Danny grew up in Paola, KS. Relatively normal, an element of mystery was added to Danny’s childhood when one day he spied his father with a large sword conducting a Masonic ritual. Danny would later notice himself performing similar movements when he began playing drums at the age of thirteen. As Danny progressed through high school and then college at the University of Missouri in Kansas City he began supplementing his studies in percussion with speculation into the principles of geometry, science, and metaphysics. A commitment to life as an artist brought Danny to LA where he was able to perform as a studio drummer with projects like Carole King and play around town with Pygmy Love Circus. He would later find an outlet for addressing a fuller scope of his potentials in Tool and another project operating under the title of Zaum. Despite not becoming a Mason or aligning himself with any other school of religion, Danny has maintained his heritages interest in occult studies. Endeavors into this realm have manifested periodically, such as the time he achieved insight into a hidden aspect of the unicursal hexagram utilizing an astral journey initiated through meditation and DMT. Danny then set up his drums into proportions utilizing the circle and square of the New Jerusalem and uttered a short prayer relating to the principles of the ace of swords from the book of Thoth. He then performed a ritual utilizing his new found knowledge of the unicursal hexagram to generate a pattern of movement in space relating to Fuller’s vector equilibrium model. The resulting rhythm and gateway summoned a daemon he has contained within “the Lodge” that has been delivering short parables similar to passages within the Book of Lies. Danny recommends as a device of protection and containment a thorough study and utilization of the underlying geometry of the Temple of Solomon for anyone purchasing their next record.
[Note: This is from 2011 from the band’s website. I could not find or access a more current bio. However, this recent article seems to validate the older bio.]
When I read Carey’s bio I immediately stopped listening to Tool’s album, quickly pulling the earplugs out of my ears. I suddenly felt the need to distance myself from the music and the band. I was mad that I liked the music, knowing that it has certain qualities I find attractive. I had to turn away. But I also couldn’t stop wondering about Carey, who seems like a really nice guy who’s into really dark things. And I realize that I may be the last person to know about Tool and its fascination with the occult.
People are into all kinds of things that are dangerous, foolish, and sinful. This has always been typical of us humans, but I think having and interest into dark things, specifically the occult, is growing by leaps and bounds today. I know that the world is crazy and has little interest in Christ the King. Certainly, many people don’t believe Christ has already conquered the devil. And I know perhaps sometimes we just might have to roll our eyes or shrug our shoulders at some of the things we see. We can’t get worked up over every evil in the world. None of us have that kind of stamina or bandwidth. But the Devil is real. Demons are real. And this is not a little thing.
Specifically, I was struck by two things in the bio above. First, the way he sets up his drums and has played them summoned a demon that is somehow currently active in his playing. Carey say it’s “contained,” but I doubt it. We don’t contain or control demons. Rather, they fool us, and play us, and use us, and eventually abuse us. Second, he recommends that anyone buying their album should have a “device of protection.” This is truly frightening. I doubt Carey consciously intends any harm (I could be wrong), but I believe he is not only playing with fire, rather he has become, and has unleashed, an actual threat to the well-being of potentially thousands or even millions of listeners. His Faustian bargain has won him a Grammy, but the Devil plays for keeps. The Devil wants more than a Grammy. I fear that listening to their album could bring (channel?) demons into one’s own life. In fact, I’m sure of it — and I’m a feet on the ground, level-headed guy.
Demons are real. Demons are truly evil and powerful. Demons ought not to be played with.
Saint Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle, be our defense against the wickedness and snares of the devil; may God rebuke him, we humbly pray; and do thou, O Prince of the heavenly host, by the power of God, thrust into hell Satan and all the evil spirits who prowl about the world seeking the ruin of souls. Amen.
Should we be building (or restoring) beautiful churches when there is so much poverty in the world? Shouldn’t the Church sell all that it owns and give the money to the poor?
I am a simple man and I do not have a complete answer to that question. But I ask you to consider the story of the feast of Simon the leper, or more appropriately the story of the woman with the alabaster box of ointment. Does this story have a lesson for us that applies to the questions above? I think so.
In the Gospel of Matthew, verses 26:6-13, we read:
Now when Jesus was in Bethany, in the house of Simon the leper, there came unto him a woman having an alabaster box of very precious ointment, and poured it on his head, as he sat at meat. But when his disciples saw it, they had indignation, saying, “To what purpose is this waste? For this ointment might have been sold for much, and given to the poor.” When Jesus understood it, he said unto them, “Why trouble ye the woman? For she hath wrought a good work upon me. For ye have the poor always with you; but me ye have not always. For in that she hath poured this ointment on my body, she did it for my burial. Verily I say unto you, Wheresoever this gospel shall be preached in the whole world, there shall also this, that this woman hath done, be told for a memorial of her.”
In the Gospel of Matthew this woman pours ointment on Christ’s head, in Luke it says she pours it on His feet and wipes them with her hair. I think it is fair to say she did both, and to do so fits with Christ saying she did it for His burial. But here’s the question I think we should ask for ourselves in light of this story: Do we not, very specifically and uniquely, have Christ with us at Mass, truly present? Are not our churches, in fact, both temples and palaces: places for worship and sacrifice on the one hand, and places for monarchal reverence and pomp on the other? Yes, we must help the poor, but our love for our neighbor goes forth from our worship of our creator and our savior. We proceed from Mass into the world, conforming our lives to Christ in our actions. And churches are for all who come, rich and poor alike.
The poor, above all else, need salvation of their souls as does everyone else. Certainly we must not forsake the poor with cheap excuses that our monies are tied up elsewhere. Christ chastised the Pharisees for that as well. But we must not turn away from proper worship in order to, instead, focus on the poor. When we do, we put our souls at risk, and theirs.
[I realize I risk saying all this because I am not poor. My apologies for any thickheadedness and offense.]
I believe the state of the “new Church” today, with its numbers plummeting, its thin gruel of RCIA programs, its horrible music, its new Mass with namby pamby vestments and shallow prayers, and all its staggering and ravaging scandals, is all of a piece with its degraded and ugly churches. To forsake right worship, which includes, if at all possible, beautiful places of worship of sufficient design and beauty to glorify the King, is to lose the forest for the trees. It is, in a sense, to lose Christ.
This is one reason why churches that focus only on helping the poor all too often become churches where soup and blankets becomes their gospel and not the good news of Christ’s death and resurrection for our sins, saving us from Hell, and leading us to eternal life. Raising Lazarus was an image of the gospel, but Lazarus was raised to die again. His true salvation came because Christ died on the cross, and then rose from the dead, then ascended to the right hand of the Father, and then Lazarus believing in that truth.
Therefore, I believe that a gospel which says we should do away with fancy churches and instead give that money to the poor is, in fact, a substitute gospel. It has some appeal because it has some important truth (we truly do need to help the needy and lay down our lives for others), but it elevates one truth inappropriately above another. The poor (and the downtrodden, and those in prison, and widows & orphans, and the hungry, and the naked, etc), whom you must love, will always be with you. But if you are to see Christ in the poor you must first see Him in the Eucharist, and bend the knee, and bow your head, and worship Him. Should you sell all you have and give it to the poor? Maybe. Should the princes of the Church live simple lives of poverty? I think they probably should (certainly many today should be brought low). Ought the Church as the body of Christ celebrate Mass in plain sheet-rocked or concrete-tilt-up boxes instead of beautiful, ornate, and more expensive churches? I think not (if at all possible). Give glory as and to whom glory is due.
Does this mean that if we focus once again on building more beautiful churches all our problems with go away? No. But we must not be afraid to build beautiful churches. To do so will feed and inform our souls in surprising ways, and help us become more holy, more fully human, more like Christ. This goes hand in hand with helping the poor. The stunning churches of old, those that are still with us, are memorials to those who built them in a similar way that the story of the woman with the alabaster box is her memorial.
You will meet her if you get to Heaven. And, perhaps, you will bow to her and thank her for showing the way.
Finally: Arvo Pärt, the brilliant minimalist composer from Estonia, set the words from Matthew above to music. Listen to this and read the words as you do. This is, I believe, a stunning example of what setting the words of scripture to music can be.
This short talk by Roger Scruton is worth listening to in its entirety. His thoughts on silence are especially profound. I wonder, too, about how his thoughts apply to our constant debates about music at Mass. Think about what he says and then consider the different uses of music one finds between a Novus Ordo Mass and a Traditional Latin Mass. Think about the different uses of silence too. What have we lost bringing popular, and often poor imitations of popular, music into Mass?
I have come to realize that rock-n-roll’s purpose, among other things, is to un-civilize the individual. We love rock-n-roll precisely because we want to be un-civilized. I do believe there is some value in occasionally “letting down one’s hair.” I really can’t say it’s all bad. But I also believe it has to be appropriately counterbalanced with beautiful music that leads us to perfection of the soul. I also worry that our desire for chaos is not of divine origin. Honestly, I don’t entirely know what to do with this knowledge.
This idea of perfection of the soul is laughed at by moderns. No one believes in perfection anymore, in part because they don’t think it’s possible, but more profoundly because they don’t believe there is an objective standard by which to measure perfection. But they also do not believe in the soul. Why seek to perfect something that does not exist? And why go to the effort if there is no life beyond this one? I would posit, however, that the existence of music, and the phenomena of human experiences of music, are an excellent argument for the existence of the soul, its eternal nature, and its desire for perfection.
Then, when I think of the Mass, I consider its music and what that does to us. I wonder about appropriateness, and form, and the teleological purpose of liturgy. I also think about Scruton’s comment about the soul being prepared to receive good music. Can poor music at Mass harm us in some way? Can the repeated use of poor music at Mass cause the souls present to be temporarily incapable of receiving proper music when presented? What about the music in Heaven? How might we fix this?
Why in the world did God make music, and what is the relation between music and the human soul? I believe Scruton gets at this question in a way. I also believe he could go further. Perhaps that is what we should do.
Catholic News Service recently did a series of video reports on Gregorian Chant, what it is, and how it’s making a comeback in the Church. This is a great introduction to the music of the Church, in essence an ancient form of prayer that seemed at times to have been lost, but has been with us all along.
This last video is somewhat interesting in that the music in it is mostly not chant at all. Still, beautiful music.
I only recently personally discovered the composer Johannes Ockeghem. I’ve heard him referred to as the Bach of the fifteenth century. I’ve also heard that Ockeghem is every bit as brilliant as Bach. I can’t say one way or the other, not being an expert on either, but listen to this music and you will hear just how beautiful sacred music can be.
One thing that is glaringly apparent to a former outsider of the Catholic Church (I was a trained anti-Catholic Baptist/neo-Calvinist/almost Evangelical — good people, btw) who has recently come into the Church (that would be me in 2013) is that the Novus Ordo Mass is, among other things, a reflection of the values and stylistic preferences of the 1960’s baby boomers. I know this because I grew up in a baby boomer era west coast version of Christianity so prevalent in the 1970s — a version that even outdoes the Catholics in sentimentality — and I know this kind of Christianity intimately. I saw how our Baptist church changed from the somewhat stodgy Christianity of my grandparents to that of my parents. (Oh, I’ve got stories.) In fact, I thought some of the changes were for the better. But for the sometimes nostalgic feelings I have for my past, I don’t think that version of Christianity is particularly good. (Well, it’s probably heretical at some level) And I certainly don’t think it’s good for Catholics.
A lot of water has gone under the bridge since Vatican II, and a leaning towards pre-Vatican II Catholicism is on the rise (and so is the resistance to that rise), but we still have the spirit of the 1960’s (the spirit of the baby boomers) with us today — some of that spirit is good, but a lot is not. Perhaps the evidence is most apparent in the music sung at so many Masses today.
Let me pause a moment and say that I still mostly attend the Novus Ordo Mass, but have been going to Traditional Latin Mass when it’s available in my area and I can make it. Lately I’ve been calling them the Greater Mass and the Lesser Mass. I think you can guess which is which. And I know some will want to chastise me for straddling the fence too much, but there’s a story to everyone’s life and I’ve got one too. So, here I am, for now.
Frequently at the NO Mass we sing (well… not everyone sings) songs that are clearly poor shadows of the 1960’s folk-style oeuvre. I love that oeuvre, but not sung at Mass, and certainly not poor shadows as some kind of praise or prayer to our King. Honestly, I’m not sure what we are doing sometimes. Is this a prayer? Is this about God or about me?? But I see the baby boomers happily singing these songs without even having to look at the “hymnal.” Hymnal is in quotes because a lot of these are songs barely resembling hymns, and the “hymnal” is really a cheap and disposable “mass market” (pun intended) paperback — which itself is a message counter to the gravity, substantiality, beauty, and truth of the faith and Catholic worship — but that’s another topic.
I can’t even…
My apologies for that nausea inducing surypy sentimental moment.
It was the boomers that welcomed the new Mass, just as they welcomed “sit ins” and Peter, Paul and Mary, welcomed bell bottom jeans and antiestablishmentarianism, and rejected nearly all traditions and the voices of anyone over thirty.¹ It was the boomers who felt strongly that their parents didn’t and couldn’t understand how the world had changed.² Their parents voted for Eisenhower, supported Vietnam, questioned the civil rights movement, covered their couches in clear plastic, and would later vote for Nixon. Squaresville.
And here’s to you, Mrs. Robinson
Jesus loves you more than you will know
Wo wo wo
God bless you, please, Mrs. Robinson
Heaven holds a place for those who pray
Hey hey hey, hey hey hey
Catholicism was obviously even more entrenched deep within a stale and rigid tradition. Right? Think of that silly sedia gestatoria and all that turgid pomp. The very opposite of hip and cool. Right? It had to change. It had to get with it. The Church needed a new bag. It had to serve the Me Generation — a generation unable to accept anything other than what it could invent itself. Otherwise the churches would soon empty out, the seminaries would close, the faithful would get their entertainment elsewhere, the world would cease to take the Church seriously, and priests, if not giving in to the the sexual revolution and its perversions, would leave the priesthood, get married to nuns, and become positive thinking gurus. (oops) The traditional had to go and the contemporary had to come in. Open the Church’s windows and doors and let the winds of the zeitgeist blow through, clearing out the cobwebs and stale air. Finally!!
What was not anticipated was just how stale the winds of fashion would become from one day to the next. Quickly the Church began to stink with the foul air of the age.
An aside: I love Peter, Paul and Mary, but just not at Mass and certainly not poor shadows of that trio. On Eagles Wings?! I Am the Bread of Life??! Wut? And heck, even though I love that now everyday is “casual day” at work, wearing a t-shirt branded Lou’s Shake-Shack and flip flops before the Real Presence? Really? This is not merely a matter of taste, or class distinctions, nor is it an “ageist” argument. Rather it’s theological and liturgical. If we truly have the Real Presence before us, then…?? then…?? Come on folks.
What does worship and true reverence demand? What has God made us for?
A confession: I am a Generation X guy, but only just under the wire. Some might even say I was born in the last year of the boomer generation — but I refuse to agree. I refuse *stomping feet* to be in that mad camp. But I still have a lot of the Jesus movement coursing through my veins. I was weaned on Larry Norman. I’ve sang my fair share of folk/rock/pop “worship” hymns/songs/whatever and, I have to say, I loved a lot of that, and still do. Back “in the day” I even (poorly) lead my Protestant youth group in worship, playing my guitar like some who desperately needed lessons. And I still love the music of that Catholic-hating Protestant Jesus freak, the late great Keith Green. (Has anyone written a more beautiful modern hymn as good as Oh Lord, You’re Beautiful or as sublime as My Eyes are Dry? God rest his soul.) But we don’t even get Green’s quality of songs at Mass — unless we go way way back and sing great works from the past which ultimately put his songs to shame. Just what are we offering to God with these new songs? Any why are we singing anyway if not to pray? yada yada yada
A little slice of Christianity from 1972:
Anyway, the boomers³ at the contemporary Novus Ordo Mass of today, who sing from memory those mediocre “hymns” with a smile on their faces, are probably the less than five percent (maybe it’s ten percent? I’m making this up) of their generation that remained in the church once the liturgical turmoil and confusion of the 1970’s and 80’s drove most Catholics away. In other words, it seems most of the boomer Catholics back in the day got what they wanted (change, revolution, freedom, folk music, bongos, and modernism-inspired teaching) and then left Catholicism for other things (Evangelical Protestantism, New Age spirituality, free market capitalism, pastel cashmere sweaters, etc.). Only a few remained. And many of those that stayed (including the Holy Father, who is a bit older than a baby boomer btw) often seem utterly perplexed as to why it’s the Catholic youth and Protestant converts who are leading the charge for the Church to re-embrace the Traditional Latin Mass and other traditional & ancient forms of Catholic worship and devotion. They see it as a return to a rigid⁴ faith. Perhaps for a few it is, but in general I think it is something entirely different, something more profound. Perhaps far less rigid, actually.
In fact, the great traditions of the Church, including the Mass of the ages (The Greater Mass — you know that’s what I meant), is the least rigid aspect of Catholicism I can think of. Sadly, it seems to me the Pope and “his men” are some of the most rigid Catholics I’ve witnessed. This grieves me, but I am not surprised for I know human nature. Pray for the Pope. I think he was hurt by someone or something many years ago. I think he carries that hurt with him today. I don’t mean to sound trite. Pray.
Okay, okay… I also have to say the boomers who have remained faithful to the Church through it all are also often examples of love for Christ, service to others, and active participants in church. Who am I to judge, right? It’s mostly boomers who run and manage my parish, and they are great. The doors would shut without them. They run the local Catholic Community Services organization, St. Vincent de Paul, and other social programs. They do a great deal of service and are devoted to the parish. They put me to shame. I’m probably a terrible person.
AND… many, many boomers are leading the charge towards the Traditional Latin Mass. Some bearing deep scars from past battles and beatings. They must be given more credit than they often receive. The Spirit of Vatican II has been quite a terror.
The key reason to call the Novus Ordo Mass the Baby Boomer Mass is not to denigrate the Baby Boomers, at least not any more than any other generation, but merely to recognize that the Novus Ordo is a Mass beholden to the fashions and proclivities of a particular generation or two, rather than the Mass that arose from across the centuries, beholden to no generation, and expressing an almost ineffable timelessness and more heavenly characteristics.
Thus, to sum up, unlike the timelessness and substantial beauty of the Traditional Catholic Mass, the Baby Boomer Mass is looking old and tired, like pet rocks and yesterday’s hairstyles. (Not to speak of deeper liturgical and theological tragedy that is the NO Mass.) Strangely, so often the Novus Ordo Mass looks more and more like a time capsule and, perhaps surprisingly, the Mass of the ages looks like the best choice for the contemporary Church. And isn’t that almost always the case? What is trendy looks old so quickly, and what is ancient is timeless. Fashions come and go. We ought not let the form follow fashion. We really shouldn’t be about fashion at all.
Perhaps the greatest gift the Novus Ordo has given the Church is the opportunity for comparison and reflection. Because of the NO we can see better the profound greatness of the Traditional Latin Mass and much of traditional Catholic culture, perhaps in a way past generations couldn’t see or had grown blind to.
Of course all of this is a gross oversimplification, and not necessarily (or mostly, or merely) a generational divide. It’s not about boomers getting old or, heaven forbid, the youth once again leading the way. God save us! But it’s also not merely a matter of “updating” the Mass to a more contemporary fashion. (Some are saying we haven’t gone far enough with V2.) Nor is it about going back to some “golden age.” There’s a lot more to be said. A lot more.
“Come mothers and fathers
Throughout the land
And don’t criticize
What you can’t understand
Your sons and your daughters
Are beyond your command
Your old road is
Please get out of the new one
If you can’t lend your hand
For the times they are a-changin’.” (Bob Dylan, 1963)
Frankly, it’s not just the boomers. I do see some younger folks–in their thirties and forties–singing these songs without needing the hymnal. Why why why? Who are these people?
As said by Pope Francis himself: “[M]any young people in the church today who have fallen into the temptation of rigidity. Some are honest, they are good and we must pray that the Lord help them grow along the path of meekness.” Found here and many other reports.
July 7, 2017 was the ten-year anniversary of Pope Benedict XVI’s motu proprio (Apostolic Letter) Summorum Pontificum. Those of you who love the traditional Latin Mass know the importance of this letter.
On that anniversary a traditional Latin Mass was celebrated as a commemoration and celebration at the Notre-Dame de Paris cathedral. Here it is. It’s worth watching full screen with the audio up.
Things I observe:
The Mass is not stuffy or old feeling. It is certainly traditional, but does not seem at all out of date. The word is “timeless.”
A traditional Latin Mass seems more appropriate in Notre-Dame de Paris than does a Novus Ordo Mass (which one can find on the Notre-Dame website linked above). I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately. That is, the “fittingness” of the form of the Mass (NO or TLM) and the church setting.
The Mass is beautiful. I am not against the Novus Ordo Mass. I have experienced some beautiful ones. I also participated in the choir at a Latin Novus Ordo Mass recently celebrated in my parish. However, this Mass above is truly beautiful and feels appropriate when one thinks that the King is present in their midst.
They have someone to direct the singing of the congregation. We could use that in the TLM I go to once a month in a nearby parish. It can get confusing without someone directing for those of us who are still learning the TLM (which is most of us).
The church is full. Maybe this is always true for this famous and grand cathedral, but on a hot and humid July day in Paris (many of the congregation fan themselves) this church is packed. Apparently not a few folks in France like the old ways.
At times I wonder if they are used to celebrating the TLM at Notre-Dame. I see little moments that seem to indicate not everything is going 100% smooth, that they are trying hard to make it work — and they do. I could be reading into it as well.
There is a mix of old chant and more “recent” polyphony (18th century, etc.). At least one of the polyphonic songs (really a prayer) I sang in the choir at our Latin Novus Ordo Mass.
I have never been to France, but I love this church. I studied it in art history class. What beauty and grandeur. A church truly appropriate to celebrate Mass in. Someday I may get there.
I love the moments of silence. This is one more reason the TLM is an antidote to our modern world. Silence is necessary for our humanity and our worship of God.
Latin! I love that I can follow the Mass even though they are French and I am not. We have a shared faith, and shared language, and a shared worship. This is true in many ways with the Novus Ordo Mass, but Latin brings us all together.
There is no altar rail. I don’t know if there never was, or if it was removed at some point (French Revolution? Post Vatican II?). I see some people having trouble kneeling to receive communion — bad knees, age, etc. I can relate. But kneeling is appropriate.
I love the humanity. Parisians dress better than where I’m from, but I see all kinds — well dressed, casual, sloppy, women with veils, most without, some folks with praying hands, some with arms crossed, some confused, some seeming to know exactly what is going on, etc., etc. All very human.
Excellent video coverage. Beautiful.
I must be strange to enjoy watching a complete Mass, but I did.
On the first Friday of February of this year my parish celebrated our church’s feast day (Our Lady of the Presentation) with a Latin Novus Ordo Mass. I already wrote about how I decided to join the choir. We, the choir, were not perfect by any means, and it was really a lot of hard work, but it was still beautiful and deeply rewarding. Interestingly, I had a small Twitter exchange tangentially related to this Mass.
Fr. Dwight Longenecker had posted the following tweet:
I have a gut feeling that many, many grass roots Catholics are longing for more traditional liturgy, and its my opinion that this need is best met by the Ordinary Form being celebrated in a traditional manner. This is what B16 wanted–for the two forms to influence each other.
His tweet caught my eye, especially in light of just having participated in such a Mass as he mentions. I cannot say that I want this kind of Mass over a Traditional Latin Mass. For me the jury is out. I love both. I am regularly attending a TLM at a nearby parish once a month, and I hope my parish does more of the Latin Novus Ordo Mass as well. I also hope we have the TLM in our parish again someday.
Anyway, I replied:
My parish just celebrated our parish’s feast day with a beautiful Latin Novus Ordo Mass. I volunteered for the choir. First time for me. Very solemn and beautiful. After recessional folks waited for the choir to finish Cantate Domino. Then applauded. Folks are longing for beauty.
Someone replied to my tweet:
“Then applauded.” Says all about the NO.
[“NO” meaning the Novus Ordo.] I should have expected this response. For man TLMers such things as applause at Mass is a sign of the “Spirit of Vatican II” times, which they despise. I get it. I’m mostly on their “team,” up to a point. But I thought about it and it occurred to me that the negative response was premature. For the applause, though perhaps not entirely appropriate (I don’t really know), did not actually happen at Mass, but after Mass had ended. Plus, applause can be a “thank you,” not only praise.
So I replied:
It was not praise for a good “performance,” but a thanks for what had been done (very hard work to bring a difficult Latin Missa Cantata to our parish). Mass was over. Priests had exited. Would have been appropriate at a TLM in a similar context. Says more about people than NO.
Parishioners also thanked the priests on the way out of church for bringing these “lost” riches back to our parish. Similar gesture as thanking the choir.
Baby steps in light of the damage done. It’s not yet TLM, but a step towards it.
Recognizing that, with charity, is good.
I believe I am right about this, but am willing to be corrected — though I might put up a fight. Anyway, another person also replied to my first tweet:
Yes. Mass was over & the priests and servers had left the building, the people were standing & looking to the choir loft enraptured like they hadn’t seen/heard something like this for a long time (which they hadn’t) or ever. The applause says a lot about what people are craving.
Fr. Longenecker did not respond to either mine or the others’ tweets.
I know many who are ardent supporters of the TLM (as against the Novus Ordo) believe a Latin Novus Ordo Mass, though certainly more beautiful and solemn than the all too familiar happy-clappy Novus Ordo Masses common since the late 1960s, is still a kind of bastardized Mass, finally ill suited to proper worship. I don’t expect them to agree with my statements above. Perhaps I might not even agree in a few years either (though I doubt it). But for now I’m on a journey of faith and learning, and I have to say I loved our beautiful Mass on that first Friday in February.
A couple of weeks ago my kids music teacher died. He was a brilliant, generous, uniquely gifted man who was loved by many people and many families in and beyond our town. He was primarily a percussionist who played in various bands, played many other instruments than drums, taught numerous students over the years, and also handbuilt wooden canoes.
A year ago we purchased a traditional drum kit for our son who was 6 years old at the time. We began looking for a drum teacher. This man came highly recommended. We had some worries because our son is young and prone to fidgetiness (some might say he’s a touch ADHD). However, this teacher was perfect for our son, working with his natural tendencies, and helping him discover the music within him. Then he offered to add our daughter for just a few dollars more. So we bought her a guitar. Our daughter is deeply musical and sings, plays piano and fiddle, and has great natural gifts in music. But as she began guitar something beautiful began to happen. Suddenly her musically talent blossomed like it had not before.
This man, a musician, husband, and wonderful teacher, gave my children, and our family, the gift of himself. After he died we cried and cried, and then we began to discover just how much he meant to so many other people in our community. Today we went to a memorial geared more towards his students, who are mostly kids. There was a drum circle, sharing, tears, laughter, and good fellowship.
The world needs more teachers like him. His loss, as is the loss of any human being’s life, is very significant, but our community also lost a special teacher. We also lost a wonderful musician.
As a Christian I know that this life is not the end. I know that death is the severing of one’s soul from one’s body, and that someday they shall be reunited. The memorial only addressed this sense of continuation in terms of us remembering him and carrying with us what he put into us through his teaching and his person–which is no small thing. But I realize that our society today adds to the natural difficulty of dealing with the tragedy and sorrow of death the lack of deeper knowledge of God’s goodness and the ultimate end in which we are made share.
I pray for his soul. I pray that God will have mercy on him, and bestow His graces upon his soul, if only for the generosity, kindness, and love he showed my kids.
Several evenings ago I walked into my parish church to do something I’ve never done before. Probably out of ignorance and hubris, and not a little blind hopefulness, I decided to lend my voice to our parish choir. But not for the normal Sunday choir, which supports our regular Novus Ordo Mass. This time I joined in because I had heard at Sunday Mass the announcement that coming up in about four weeks was going to be a special Novus Ordo Mass (feast day at St. Mary, Our Lady of the Presentation) that would be entirely in Latin along with Latin (and Greek) chant, and that if anyone wanted to join in the choir they would be welcome, and that our choir director would be offering a chant schola in preparation for the Mass.
So I reached out via email and was invited to join.
As I walked in to the church I heard beautiful music resounding throughout the nave and sanctuary from the regular choir rehearsal as they were finishing up. After blessing myself and genuflecting before the Blessed Sacrament, I turned, looked up, and saw this.
With not a little panic mixed with excitement I realized I would be going up to the choir loft. What had I decided to do? Reality was setting in. I had never been up there, but have wanted to. I had not sung in a choir since, probably, about 4th grade for some silly event. As I worked my way towards my destination I was asked a couple of times if I was a tenor or bass. I could only shrug. I had no idea. Oh no, I thought to myself. I’m an idiot. I’m a fool. At my answer a look of slight worry crossed the faces of my questioners. Had I made a huge mistake?
On the back bench lay items of sheet music and a binder. I picked up my copies and went to my place. Everything was new to me. I did not know these people. I had never been in the choir loft, I was an imposter. Perhaps I didn’t even know how to sing. However I was welcomed warmly. Okay, at least they’re nice.
Then I looked down at the sheet music. Oh no. This was not the medieval square note sheet music. Not that I know that ancient form well, but because of my curiosity about historical Christianity I know a little. And it’s rather simple to follow if you know the basic format. Rather, this was the Missa Secunda by Hans Leo Hassler, and it looked like this:
If you want to know how it’s supposed to sound, here’s a recording from another choir:
Okay. For those of you who can read music easily, have sung in adult choirs, know that you are a tenor or bass or whatever, then you might be curious at the sudden and profound panic I felt. (Perhaps you are merely laughing at my foolishness.) I realized I would have to reach deep into my past, to those few piano lessons of many decades ago and remember foggy snipits about breathing at the right time, etc. 4/4 time. 3/4 time. Half notes. Whole notes. God help me, and God save this choir from me.
The choir director, a very kind and super encouraging man (fortunately for me), brought me to a side room and had me sing Mary had a little lamb, just to determine there my voice might fit. He said I could be a tenor or bass, so he put me with the tenors. And there I was.
We began with the traditional chant Salve Regina to warm up. That helped. I know that one, and it’s not too difficult. Then we dove into the Missa Secunda. Another great blessing for me, I was next to a woman who knows the music very well, has a great ear to be able to listen to me while she sings herself, and a kind and generous spirit to guide me through my stumblings. If she had not been there I might have completely failed and not come back. Later others told me, yeah she’s great.
So, rehearsal one is over. Three more to go. Will I be able to do this. I asked several, including the choir director, after that first rehearsal if they think I can contribute. They were all very encouraging. I also found online resources to help me do “homework” between rehearsals.
A popular book these days is Rod Dreher’s The Benedict Option: A Strategy for Christians in a Post-Christian Nation. The monks at Mount Angel Abbey are benedictine. If you find Dreher’s perspective meaningful, then these monks offer a picture of that option — not to say you should enter a monastery (though maybe you should), but you might consider doing the Divine Office every day. Some would argue this is not really what Dreher means, but I say it at least is part of the soil out of which any consideration of any kind of Benedict Option must grow, otherwise it’s something else, perhaps just marketing spin.
I suppose one could say the moral of the following post is about humility.
Not long ago I sat in a pastoral council meeting at my parish church. We were discussing the form of Mass, use of music, etc., and I heard an older gentleman, a servant of the church, a good man and Catholic, exclaim that he loved the liturgical changes brought on by the spirit of Vatican II, and thought they were one of the best things that ever happened to the Church. His words gave me pause.
I have become increasingly interested in the more solemn Traditional Latin Mass, something very new to me, which many see as harkening back to a pre-council time. Consequently I tend to dislike what I perceive as the terrible music and bad art so common (I assume it’s common, from what I hear and read) in contemporary worship services today — all brought on by Vatican II according to popular legend (assuming that legends can also be true). But then I had to step back a bit and think about it. Am I right in my opinions? Perhaps yes, but perhaps no.
I’m not a folk-Mass or guitar-Mass kind of guy, but under the auspices of “full disclosure” I must say I’m pretty sure I would have embraced the changes the Church experienced in the 1960’s if I had been a young man then. I know there are many today who lived through those radical changes and feel that the changes were forcibly imposed on them. I’m sure that’s true, but I would guess at least some of those sufferers are not entirely honest. I bet a number of folks who welcomed the changes only later hated them. And like so many, it is likely that I too would have thought those changes represented a great and positive shift to a more authentic and grounded expression of faith.
However, I am certain I also would have eventually changed and embraced a more traditional style as I got older. I say this because, as a Protestant, I went through a similar experience in the 1970’s and early 1980’s. I grew up in a rather conservative, staid kind of Baptist church, but I began to embrace Christian rock, and enjoyed how the youth groups changed with the times, and then “big” church changed to a more rock-n-roll ethos as well. I don’t like rock-n-roll church either, but I did years ago. And I changed over time. I began to see that emotional manipulation (a welcomed and sought after manipulation) was the primary function of the “worship team” in so many churches. I realized the folk and rock inspired music was actually about us and our internal feelings (mostly feelings about ourselves) rather than about God.
I don’t believe the serious question of what kind of music is appropriate at Mass is a question of taste, though taste plays a part. It’s deeper than mere taste, for it has to do with the fact of the Real Presence and human nature. How one feels at Mass is not as important as what Mass is; in other words, it’s an ontological question, not an emotional one. Folk and rock are great genres of music, but they are arguably inappropriate for the Mass because of the Real Presence and human nature, and the very purpose of the Mass itself. So why would such changes been made if all this is so obvious?
The fact was it wasn’t all that obvious, at least to a certain generation at a certain time and place.
Of the many shifts of the 1960’s, one was towards a kind of youth leadership. That is, youth began proclaiming its divergence from older generations, and grabbed the reigns of its own destiny. This shift was, perhaps, nothing terribly new, but interestingly the older generations embraced the change, often declaring their own generation had lost its way and only the youth have the answers. We must listen to the youth was a common attitude for many of the “lost” older generation. Some telling slogans appeared in popular culture: “I hope I die before I get old” was a line from the band The Who in their anthem My Generation. “Don’t trust anyone over thirty” was a phrase coined by Jack Weinberg in the heady days of the Free Speech Movement. This shift also precipitated a revolutionary spirit, leading to many protests and the belief that the youth could really change the world if they just let love reign. In Protestantism there was the Jesus Movement, a kind of hippie Christianity that had profound ripple effects throughout Protestantism, and also Catholicism (as many Catholics became fascinated with the more emotive forms of Protestant spirituality in light of the perceived deadness in their own). In fact, it became a sweeping movement of sorts, and many, many people were caught up in it — not unlike being caught up in the spirit. This time, though, it was the spirit of the age. And who owns that spirit?
Folk music and then rock music were powerful cultural expressions of the 1960’s zeitgeist, and they continue to today.
But this shift in the zeitgeist of 20th century Christianity also had humble, simple, and personable expressions. Expressions that, I believe, constituted a kind of healthy “reformation” within the Church — often drawing people into a closer, more intimate relationship with Jesus Christ and each other.
There was a craving for authenticity: authenticity of living, authenticity of worship, authenticity of emotions, authenticity of self. Needless to say, old forms of worship seemed terribly stale to many — though that probably says more about that generation and their knowledge of those forms than it does about the forms themselves. Regardless, it became an easy step to ask how could one possibly have a genuine relationship with Jesus while sitting in old churches and singing old hymns. (Not a very analytical question, but a visceral one for sure.) Thus grew the folk music movement (followed by the rock movement) within Christianity, for both Protestant and Catholic. [Note: I have played guitar at numerous church and youth worship services — so I’m am also part of the so-called “problem” if there is one.] [Another note: The issue much of the time is not about what instrument is being played. Arguably guitars are not really a problem, except for their symbolism.]
But there was a mood in the air. Old was fake, self-absorbed, plastic; the youth were authentic, seeking, made of flesh and blood. The old had little to offer the youth, and what they did offer seemed already dead. These feelings were felt by many, young and old.
Of course there is a lot more to be said about this history, but my point is that if I had been a youth or young adult at that time I’m sure I would have fully embraced the so-called spirit of Vatican II, at least in terms of worship. AND… I actually love a lot of the folk-mass/folk-christian songs — having sung many from the old, brown Young Life songbook back in the day — though some (like the ones in this post) seem rather sappy nowadays. And let’s admit, as well, that many old hymns are dusty, that they were contemporary once, and being old now does not mean they are good. (Although, because they have been tested by time the odds are they are better.)
Consider how one (maybe you) feels after having gone to a deeply emotional and moving (perhaps even Christian) rock concert, with its powerful music, smoke machine, and light show, and then the next morning you go to church and it seems so blah. Couldn’t you argue that you were “closer to God” at the concert? At least you felt that way, right? The same feeling would have been common in the 1960’s with its folk music, which seemed so much more authentic than dusty old hymns. I understand this. Bob Dylan was a prophet. “The Times They Are A-Changin'” seems a better homily than is often preached by many a priest. Peter, Paul and Mary sang truth. “If I Had A Hammer” is a more viscerally powerful sermon than most any Baptist preacher can muster. A young adult looking for such a connection at church just might welcome a couple of guitars and some bongo drums in the service of a passionately sung worship ballad in four-four. I was that young adult. I still have those proclivities to some degree.
Given all that, after hearing that older gentleman at the pastoral council wax positive about those Vatican II changes of yesteryear, I realized my tendency to denigrate those changes of the post-Vatican II era is not an entirely honest tendency. Nor might it be entirely empathetic or loving. I still prefer a more traditional form of Mass, and I tend to think that guitars generally have their place outside of Mass, but I cannot assume I’m really any different than anyone else. I have come to this position over time, and I’m still on my journey. I am sure my current preferences are in reaction to my own experiences over a number of years. I too am a fish in the stream of history — and it just goes to show how easily I can forget myself.
Final note: Let us not forget the Real Presence at Mass. The question of proper form and proper music at Mass flows from this profoundly radical fact. It’s not ultimately about a particular style, or particular instruments, or specific lyrics, as much as it is about appropriate reverence and worship, which includes proper action, and what it is that leads us to that. Understanding how much of contemporary music, especially folk and rock, does not fit within a Catholic liturgy may require a sensitivity and a knowledge most of us are unlikely to have; not because we can’t understand, but because our culture has trained us not to.
According to the Duruflé version, they only sing the words of the refrain and the first stanza, but here it is in Latin:
Ubi caritas et amor, Deus ibi est. Congregavit nos in unum Christi amor. Exultemus, et in ipso iucundemur. Timeamus, et amemus Deum vivum. Et ex corde diligamus nos sincero.
Ubi caritas et amor, Deus ibi est. Simul ergo cum in unum congregamur: Ne nos mente dividamur, caveamus. Cessent iurgia maligna, cessent lites. Et in medio nostri sit Christus Deus.
Ubi caritas et amor, Deus ibi est. Simul quoque cum beatis videamus, Glorianter vultum tuum, Christe Deus: Gaudium quod est immensum, atque probum, Saecula per infinita saeculorum. Amen.
And here is the English translation:
Where charity and love are, God is there. Christ’s love has gathered us into one. Let us rejoice and be pleased in Him. Let us fear, and let us love the living God. And may we love each other with a sincere heart.
Where charity and love are, God is there. As we are gathered into one body, Beware, lest we be divided in mind. Let evil impulses stop, let controversy cease, And may Christ our God be in our midst.
Where charity and love are, God is there. And may we with the saints also, See Thy face in glory, O Christ our God: The joy that is immense and good, Unto the ages through infinite ages. Amen.
Here is the text of the Gloria as it is in French:
Gloire à Dieu, au plus haut des cieux,
Et paix sur la terre aux hommes qu’il aime.
Nous te louons, nous te bénissons,
Nous te glorifions, nous te rendons grâce,
pour ton immense gloire,
Seigneur Dieu, Roi du ciel,
Dieu le Père tout-puissant.
Seigneur, Fils unique, Jésus Christ,
Seigneur Dieu, Agneau de Dieu,
le Fils du Père.
Toi qui enlèves le péché du monde,
prends pitié de nous
Toi qui enlèves le péché du monde,
reçois notre prière ;
Toi qui es assis à la droite du Père,
prends pitié de nous.
Car toi seul es saint,
Toi seul es Seigneur,
Toi seul es le Très-Haut,
Jésus Christ, avec le Saint-Esprit
Dans la gloire de Dieu le Père.
Here are some variations of it being sung at Mass:
I think I like the last one best.
If you know of any others, send them my way. Thanks.
Now when Jesus was in Bethany, in the house of Simon the leper, there came unto him a woman having an alabaster box of very precious ointment, and poured it on his head, as he sat at meat. But when his disciples saw it, they had indignation, saying, To what purpose is this waste? For this ointment might have been sold for much, and given to the poor. When Jesus understood it, he said unto them, “Why trouble ye the woman? For she hath wrought a good work upon me. For ye have the poor always with you; but me ye have not always. For in that she hath poured this ointment on my body, she did it for my burial. Verily I say unto you, Wheresoever this gospel shall be preached in the whole world, there shall also this, that this woman hath done, be told for a memorial of her.”
(Matthew 26: 6-13)
David Clayton is a professor at Saint Thomas More College of the Liberal Arts in Merrimack, NH, where he has designed the Way of Beauty program which focuses on the link between Catholic culture and liturgy. I think this kind of talk is very important. I would like to see more people, more “average folks,” more in-the-pews people, that would think about these things, and speak up.
I am curious what others think. Do you think about these things? Do you care, or think they are important? I recognize that most folks are not into listening to lectures, but the connections between beauty (one of the transcendentals) and the Christian life, especially the liturgy and Cristian architecture, music, and other aspects of worship, seems really important.
A comment on the production: I am continually finding it troublesome that lectures on art and architecture seem to be video recorded by rank amateurs. Lighting is almost always bad, framing is generally poor, camera quality and movement indicate they are using cheaper equipment, and overall it always seems like recording lectures is, at best, an afterthought. I understand most of the time they cannot get professionals because of the cost (though more professionals should volunteer as a way of supporting the Church and tithing) but they can still do much better. In short, video of art lectures should be beautiful and well done, and they almost always are not, including this one. If the lectures rely heavily on PowerPoint (et al.) then get the presentation and add it directly to the video — don’t video the screen; at least use two cameras, one for the lecturer and one for the screen. Just as we Christians generally tend to lack the commitment anymore to build beautiful churches or commission beautiful liturgical music, we make lots of bad videos. Nonetheless, I do appreciate the content of these lectures. And I’m glad someone captured the lectures at least.
“The musical tradition of the universal Church is a treasure of inestimable value, greater even than that of any other art. The main reason for this pre-eminence is that, as a combination of sacred music and words, it forms a necessary or integral part of solemn liturgy.” Sacrosanctum Concilium, 112
“I am convinced that music really is the universal language of beauty which can bring together all people of good will on earth.” Pope Benedict XVI, 16 April 2007
When I started attending the parish church we now go to, I did not like the music used for the Mass very much. There were parts that I loved, like the Lamb of God and the call and response chant of the Psalm reading. But the Gloria (Glory to God) was not great. And yet I grew to like it. Then we changed. What we use now is the Mass of Christ the Savior by Dan Schutte, and the tune for the Gloria is awful. Overall this Mass by Schutte is musically poor, but specifically the Gloria is far to sing-songy for what the Gloria actually is. Schutte’s version is also too long, and has this strange word/phrase-repeat thing it does that disrupts the flow of this amazing poem prayer of reverence. As far as my tastes go, Schutte’s Gloria destroys what could and should be beautiful. It would be better for us to merely recite the Gloria than sing Schutte’s version.
Read the Gloria, consider its words carefully, and then consider this: How we sing the Gloria sets the tone for the rest of the Mass. It is the true beginning of worship in the Mass, that moment when we direct our minds to God, and recognize our place before Him. It draws us into a mode of reverence and prepares us for what is to come. It separates us from the humdrum of the quotidian and puts us in the presence of God. It’s not there merely because of tradition, though it has a long tradition. It is a critical piece of why a Catholic Mass is what it is; it is when we come together as Catholics.
Recently I came across a musical comparison that I think may explain what I mean by Schutte’s Gloria being too sing-songy:
It’s not an exact copy, and maybe a bit unfair, but if we can get that close with such a comparison, it says a lot. However, only listen to Schutte’s version and that should easily be enough to show how inappropriate it is for the Gloria. Sadly, we live in an age where it is becoming more and more common for people to not really know the difference between beautiful and ugly, reverential and pedestrian, God facing and man facing. Perhaps that is the issue here. I can’t say. I don’t yet know what anyone else in my parish thinks.
What we used to sing was the Heritage Mass version. This is also not great, but the music is better and more reverential than Schutte’s.
I am convinced the Novus Ordo Mass can be very beautiful and reverential. I do not think a church has to “go back” to a traditional Latin Mass to find beauty. But I also realize it is hard work, and many parishioners, who are immersed in our rather ugly culture all week long, might struggle at first if their Mass was changed to be truly beautiful – strange as that may sound. It might take some adjustment. But we are made for Beauty. Seek the beautiful in the Mass and the parish will be rewarded. I believe this firmly.