We are continuing to reflect on the principles which Pope Benedict articulated in his letter to Bishops which accompanied his motu proprio of 2007 entitled Summorum Pontificum. But before we move ahead to the principles of reverence and magnanimity, I'd like to address an important comment which I received in response to my last blog. Here it is:

“Pope Benedict speaks of the importance of honoring our great Catholic liturgical traditions, and you have also emphasized this point frequently. But while acknowledging this idea in theory, my experience of those who seem most deeply committed to their Catholic or Eastern Orthodox liturgical traditions has generally not been a positive one. In attending various Orthodox and Eastern Catholic Liturgies, I have been struck by behaviors that seem to indicate that these people are indeed proud of their cultural/religious heritage, but not particularly kind, loving, or spiritual. Similarly, in traditional Latin Mass parishes, there seems to be an emphasis on exterior rules and correct liturgical practices that minimizes the need for a personal relationship with Jesus, and the fervent love which is the fruit of such a living faith. And so would I not be moving away from the essential dimension of our Catholic Christian faith – knowing and loving God – by doing as you suggest, in delving into the so-called 'great traditions' of the Liturgy and its sacred music?”

This is a great comment and question for which I am most grateful.

Saint Clement Celebrating Mass - Artist Anonymous - Circa 1100

I would first respond by clarifying and emphasizing the word honor. To honor our great traditions does not necessarily mean to delve into them, study and practice them, etc. Rather it means first of all to acknowledge their important place in Church history, to be open to discovering their beauty, and not to speak ill of them. For those practicing them in the context of the Liturgy, to honor also means to do them in a way which corresponds to their purpose, i.e., to draw us more deeply into God's holy presence and grace. When these traditions are done in a way that conflicts with the core of our faith – knowing and loving God – then by definition, they are not being honored by those people. On the other hand, as we cannot see within the hearts of such people, we cannot really know what their intentions are, or what their own interior experience is. And although prudence might lead us to avoid such situations, charity should compel us to assume and hope the best of each person.

For those of us called to work directly with liturgical music – primarily clergy and church musicians – there is a responsibility to receive a thorough formation in our patrimony of sacred music (as well as of the Liturgy itself.) But even in this formation, the point is not simply to become familiar with the forms, but rather to discover how these forms have been and can still be an inspired sacramental means of drawing us closer to God. In this process of discovery we still need to exercise the same kind of prudence and discernment as mentioned above, and it doesn't exclude being open to other kinds of music. The difference is that the priest, deacon, or musician must persevere in seeking out places where the sacred music tradition is done well, and where its fruits of grace and peace are clearly manifested. Without strong roots in this living tradition – with its strong spiritual orientation - clergy and musicians will be deprived of the needed benefit of these time-tested, universal models.

But there is another important point that your comment brings up, which I'd state as something like this: “How can it be that something which in its origin is so holy and good – namely, the Liturgy and its sacred music – has become propagated so widely as something which seems to be so ritualistic and lacking in spiritual life and power?”

The answer to this question lies in the relationship between authentic spiritual life and the institutions which are needed to nurture and maintain this life. The very first Eucharist, and the singing which was an integral part of it, must have been filled with an abundance and intensity of spiritual vitality beyond imagining. And from all we know of the early Church, this vitality carried over into their liturgical worship as well. But notwithstanding its holy form – a necessary element in order for this gift to be passed on from generation to generation – this “institution” of the Liturgy was also subject to the tendencies of all human institutions. As God never forces himself upon people, the Sacred Liturgy, along with the general spiritual health of the Church, has generally gone through a repeating cycle of 1.) new beginnings, inspiration, and vitality, 2.) growth and prosperity, 3.) temptation toward self-satisfaction and complacency, 4.) decline and corruption, with a need for repentance and renewal.

As we look at the life of various Christian communities around the world today, whether they be Catholic, Orthodox, or Protestant, we can find manifestations of all four of these phases. The call to each of us is to be vigilant in maintaining our own fidelity and fervor of love, which paradoxically is nurtured by realizing that we (you and I) are the ones who are most in need of conversion. But our resolve to cultivate this fidelity, fervor, and ongoing conversion will also lead us to seek out those places and those people who will support rather than thwart us on this path.

Giovanni Battista Tiepolo - The Virgin Appearing to St. Philip Neri

The history of the Church is filled with examples of this four-fold cycle, and of saints who led the way towards great moments of wide-spread repentance and renewal. Philip Neri (1515-1595), sometimes called the “third Apostle of Rome”, is one of my favorites in this regard, and I encourage everyone who is not yet familiar with him to make his acquaintance! A native of Florence, he arrived as a young man in Rome in 1533; the city at that time was filled with decadence, decay, and ecclesial corruption. Through his life and work, imbued with humility, spiritual depth, personal warmth, service of the poor, miracles, and an unquenchable sense of humor, Rome underwent a profound spiritual and cultural transformation. This included a most remarkable renewal of sacred music whose effects are still being felt today. The Oratory movement, which St. Philip founded, has also continued to thrive up until our own time, bearing abundant fruit in many countries throughout the world.

And so, in our quest for the renewal of sacred music, let's always remember that there is a point to our music in the Liturgy: to bring ourselves and others closer to God. We can become adept in singing Gregorian chant, classic polyphony, and/or other worthy forms of liturgical music. We can (and should) work hard to make this music beautiful. But if we “have not love”, as St. Paul says, we will be merely “a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal” and “gain nothing.”[i] This love is a fire which needs to fill our hearts and our music, so as to draw ourselves and others ever more deeply into that worship of God “in spirit and truth” to which we are called. [ii]

It seems as if we have again run out of time for the promised reflections on reverence and magnanimity, but hopefully for a good cause. Next week, under the guidance of Pope Benedict XVI, I will once again attempt to return to these important virtues which in fact are so intimately connected to the fire of charity.

[i] cf. I Corinthians 13:1-3

[ii] John 4:23

Old Form, New Form - Part II