Adoration and Aesthetics
Cloître de l'abbaye de Fontenay, Bourgogne, FRANCE Photo: Christophe Finot
Our Lord says to the Samaritan woman at the well: “God is spirit, and those who worship him must worship him in spirit and truth.” [i] At this point in our reflections, it can be helpful to take some time to meditate on these words, as they indicate the whole point to which our sacred music must be oriented: to assist ourselves and others to truly worship God - to fully adore him - in the context of the Catholic Liturgy.
And once more I need to make clear that I am not speaking with the authority of a priest or theologian, or the rigorous precision of a philosopher, but rather as a witness: as a layman and church musician who is sharing his own experience, observations, and limping but persistent pursuit of wisdom. While in doing so I run the risk of presumption, for me not to address such matters - which are at the heart of our mission – seems to me to run the greater risk of negligence.
What precisely is the essence of this adoration, this worship of God “in spirit and truth”? While we might immediately think of the many various words, recited or sung, and gestures which are important sacramental aspects of this adoration, it is evident that these are meant to be at the service of something deeper. It is a fundamental tenet of the Catholic Faith that the Sacraments possess an objective reality that exists independently of our personal experience (“ex opere operato”.) But without a strong dimension of interiority in which our hearts and our minds are engaged, we risk being strangers to this reality and remaining at the superficial level of worship; in more fully understanding and engaging in this contemplative dimension, we should also be able to see more clearly how our sacred music can best serve rather than detract from it. And we will see particularly how the aspect of beauty - which requires the development of aesthetic awareness and skill, and their diligent application – fits into this big picture.
Our vocation to worship God in spirit and truth is taken up again by St. Paul as he writes to the Church in Rome:
...present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship. Do not be conformed to this world but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that you may prove what is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and perfect. [ii]
We can see here that adoration implies giving ourselves completely to God, so that we might be united to him in love, and thus be transformed by his grace. But such a gift is only possible through the help of the Holy Spirit, who helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with sighs too deep for words. [iii]
And so we can see that worship in spirit and truth is meant to be a holy exchange between ourselves and God. He is Love; he has given, and continues to give, of himself to us through the Incarnation, through his Passion, Cross, and Resurrection, through his Word, and through the Sacraments. But he also gives of himself in an intimate way through the Holy Spirit dwelling in our hearts. And through this Spirit, this fire of Love, we are called to respond in loving adoration.
All of these interior dimensions of worship do not negate the need for the holy and well-ordered external form of the Liturgy, or for the fraternal charity which is inextricably connected to the love of God. But they do give a primary orientation to our worship. For without this fervent loving gift of ourselves to God, the grace of the Liturgy will be thwarted in us, and our relationships with our fellow worshipers will lack spiritual depth.
Let's turn now to see how aesthetics – the science and skilled cultivation of beauty, particularly in sacred music – fits into this heart of worship. At first glance, we should see that there is an inherent potential conflict which needs to be addressed. For in speaking of an intimate encounter with any other person – be it a good friend, a spouse, or in this case, almighty God – our love for that person demands that we be fully present to them, rather than being preoccupied by the external conditions which surround this encounter. And we might say that the more we love someone, the more we strive to find a peaceful place, free of distractions, where we can enter fully into conversation and communion with them. This love by its nature has a certain fervor and ferocity that allows for no compromise – as exemplified by Christ driving out the money-changers from the Temple.
Why then has the Church – East and West - supported and encouraged the various sacred arts throughout the centuries? And why has sacred song flourished in every Rite of the Church, to the extent that it has been called “a treasure of inestimable value, greater even than that of any other art”? [iv] Isn't this “treasure” a potential enemy of worship in spirit and truth, to the extent that its aesthetic qualities might distract us from being fully present to God, and giving our whole selves in love to him, through the Holy Spirit?
In fact the sacred music tradition is indeed a treasure, but precisely to the extent that it leads us beyond itself to an intimate encounter with God. And there is most definitely a danger here against which we must diligently guard ourselves and others. We can distract others and be distracted ourselves by the beautiful sounds of liturgical music, as St. Augustine wrote in the late 4th century:
...when I find the singing itself more moving than the truth which it conveys, I confess that this is a grievous sin, and at those times I would prefer not to hear the singer. [v]
But our worship can also be disturbed and distracted by liturgical music that is poorly done, which in our present day is often a more pressing issue. Is there any way to confidently steer clear of both of these pitfalls?
There is indeed such a way, which over the centuries has been established in all the Christian liturgical arts which are rooted in antiquity, but perhaps most clearly evident in the sacred art of iconography as practiced in the Eastern Orthodox and Catholic Churches. For this reason, I am going to call it “the iconographic principle”, or in shorter form, for the sake of simplicity, “the icon principle.” The essence of this principle is something like this:
In continuity with sacred tradition as an indispensable source of wisdom, a work of art is created with fervent prayer and artistic discipline so as to lead the viewer or listener beyond itself to the silent contemplation of heavenly realities, and the loving worship of God.
A sacred icon is not intended to be admired for its aesthetic excellence, except insofar as this excellence draws the viewer into an interior relationship with Christ which transcends images. The need for competent artistry – which by its nature aims to create things of beauty – is not thereby minimized or marginalized, but rather subsumed into the greater task of leading people into prayer and adoration.
The Hospitality of Abraham (aka The Trinity) - Andrei Rublev
Similarly, the great traditions of sacred chant and polyphony – and newer works in organic continuity with them – require true aesthetic competence in their composition and performance. But they will only fulfill their purpose if they lead us, clearly and strongly, beyond themselves to the silent presence of God. And just as is the case with the art of iconography, so also does the art of traditional sacred music have its own indispensable disciplines, in order to achieve this goal. Here is a beginning list of seven such disciplines. Several of these have been touched upon previously, and some will need to be developed more fully in future posts:
the text of the music must be holy, i.e., from the Liturgy itself, or from other biblical or liturgical sources. This corresponds to the need of an icon to portray only Christ, the Virgin Mary, or other holy persons throughout salvation history, who in unity with Christ reflect the glory of God. [vi]
the form of the music must be holy, i.e., rooted in tradition, with appropriate attention to the sacred “semantics” [vii] of the tradition, including its inherent modesty and aspects of mode, melody, rhythm, harmony, etc. This corresponds to the requirement for an icon to be rooted in traditional sacred forms, which by their nature are faithful to certain principles and practices regarding the use of symbols, lines, colors, etc.
the presentation of the music must be clear and resonant, but also discreet, never drawing attention to itself but rather to the worship of God. For the choir, this discretion also requires a natural purity and strong unity of sound – nothing theatrical, stylized, or affected, and without excessive vibrato - so that individual voices do not stand out and draw attention to themselves. This can be seen to correspond to the prescribed proper placement of icons on the iconostasis (the icon screen located between the sanctuary and nave) surrounding the altar.
the diligent preparation of the music must be accomplished outside of the Liturgy itself, so that during the Liturgy, singers and other worshipers can truly focus on prayer and adoration, rather than on the technical aspects of the music. This means also that music directors must realistically assess the capacities and limitations of their singers, musicians, and congregations, so as to plan and prepare accordingly. This corresponds to the need for an icon to be fully and competently completed so as to be worthy of its use in prayer or liturgical worship.
the music must fit into the form and flow of the Liturgy, rather than presenting a separate, parallel phenomenon which draws attention to itself (no matter how lovely and/or “sacred” the music might be!) Each moment of the Mass, whether it corresponds to the Ordinary, Propers, or a time of silent prayer, has its important meaning in relation to the whole, which must be respected and served. In this regard, it is also important that the giving of pitches and other introductions be kept to a strict minimum, so that the natural flow of the Liturgy is not impeded. This is similar to how each icon must have its particular meaning which fits harmoniously into the larger context of the iconostasis and the Liturgy itself.
The music must be closely united with action of the celebrant, so that the attention of the entire congregation can easily remain focused on God, through the liturgical action which is taking place at any given moment. In the Roman Rite, this unity was traditionally facilitated by the members of the choir being located in the “Quire” or “Choir”, an actual sacred space in the church placed between the sanctuary and the nave. In the Eastern Churches, the choir has been located to the left and/or right of the sanctuary in a specified area known as the kliros. In recent centuries, the choir loft (a.k.a. the gallery) has become a common alternative in many Roman Catholic churches, facilitating discretion in the midst of new challenges to this essential quality. However, when the choir sings from a loft, diligent attention must be given so that it has sufficient natural vocal power and projection so as to be clearly and strongly unified with the liturgical action, and to be heard effortlessly by the congregation. Otherwise the attention of worshipers will tend to lack a steady and peaceful focus, as it is split in two contrary directions. This need corresponds to the location of the iconostasis in close proximity to the altar.
The sacred music which we sing must be done in a spirit of prayer and dependence on the Holy Spirit, which is like a strong wind bringing power, life, grace, and joy to our music-making. Such a spiritual orientation is cultivated by the example and teaching of the music director, and by establishing the habit of external and internal prayer as an integral dimension of singing in rehearsals and Liturgies. This also corresponds directly to the art of iconography, in which the artist's immersion in prayer is an integral, necessary dimension of the creative process.
And so in summary: the perennial tension in sacred music between aesthetics and adoration has been acknowledged and addressed in Church history, through a set of disciplines which are analagous to those practiced in the sacred art of iconography. While the need for competent artistry is fundamental to the composition and performance of liturgical music, this aesthetic dimension fulfills its role precisely to the extent that it draws worshipers beyond its beauty to the contemplation and adoration of God in the context of the Sacred Liturgy.
When we allow the light of these principles to shine on the liturgical music of our parishes and communities, what do we see? As these principles and disciplines have been so widely neglected throughout the Roman Rite in recent times, many of us might see such a great incongruity so as to be tempted to dismiss any hope of following them. But as with any attempt to establish or restore holy habits, the key is not in seeking immediate full success, but rather in taking one small, grace-filled step at a time.
St. Joseph the Betrothed Ukrainian Greek Catholic Church in Chicago, Illinois
[i] John 4:24
[ii] Romans 12:1-2
[iii] Romans 8:26
[iv] Sacrosanctum Concilium, Constitution on the Liturgy, Second Vatican Council (1963), Art. 112
[v] Saint Augustine, Confessions, Book 10, chapter 33
[vi] cf. II Corinthians 3:18
[vii] For an excellent treatment of this aspect of the semantics of Catholic sacred music, see Sacred Treasure: Understanding Catholic Liturgical Music, by Joseph P. Swain (Liturgical Press: Collegeville, Minnesota, 2012)