Just today I was reviewing a proofread version of my forthcoming book Mass Revision: Your Essential Guide to the Changes in the Liturgy, which is scheduled to come out in just a few months. It seemed like an opportune time to do a post about liturgy, so here goes . . .
There’s a passage in C. S. Lewis somewhere in which he talks about liturgy being like dancing. As a dancer, dance instructor, and dance caller (I call square dances, contra dances, etc.) I recognize just how apt the comparison he makes is. What he says is that learning the liturgy is like learning to dance. At first you are focused on the mechanics and trying to get them right. When you’re new to the liturgy it’s rather like dancing and having to think about what your feet are doing. The result is clumsy and not particularly pleasant. But there comes a point when the mechanics of the dance becomes second nature and you don’t have to think about it, you can just do it. This is the point at which the dance becomes smooth, flowing, and enjoyable. You have been freed from having to think about the mechanics of individual moves so that you can grasp the overall flow and pattern of the dance.
The same thing happens when learning liturgy. If you’re a convert, as I am, or if you’re old enough to have clear memories of the liturgical reform that followed Vatican II, then there’s a stage in your life where you had to make a conscious effort to learn the liturgy. You didn’t just grow up with it. At first it was a awkward, clumsy process (“Is this the part where we stand up?”, “What’s the next word in the Creed?”, “Am I supposed to say ‘Thanks be to God’ or ‘Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ’ now?”). But eventually it became second nature and, as in the dancing example, you were freed from the burden of having to think about the mechanics of individual actions and your mind could rise to contemplate the overall flow and pattern of the liturgy, the meaning of the symbols it contains, and the theological truths it expresses.
Even if you’re not a convert or someone who clearly remembers the liturgical reform, you’ll be getting something of that experience come this November, when the new translation of the Roman Missal goes into effect and—although the fundamental structure of the Mass will be the same—lots of individual prayers will be . . . different. And there’ll be a period of time where you have to think about the mechanics of the liturgy (“Am I supposed to say ‘And also with you’ or ‘And with your spirit’?”, “Oops! I almost said ‘Was born of the Virgin Mary’ instead of ‘Was incarnate of the Virgin Mary’!”, “Wow, you mean we’re supposed to stand after the priest finishes this invitation, not before it, like we’ve been doing the last ten years?”). But soon this phase will pass and you’ll be able to think about higher matters, like how the liturgy more profoundly expresses certain truths not that it’s not encumbered with a dumbed-down, 1970s translation.
Or whatever else you choose to think about at Mass.
The point I’m making is that changing the expressions people are used to will jerk them out of a contemplative mode and land them smack in the middle of a mechanical thought process—at least until the change becomes second nature. For this reason, you shouldn’t make changes lightly.
All the liturgical loosey-gooseyness of the last 40 years has had the effect of jerking the faithful out of a contemplative mode and putting them in other modes of thought (confusion, bewilderment, suspicion, rage).
I understand and appreciate the need for the new translation of the Mass, but it will be an adjustment. It will take some getting used to.
But one shouldn’t make arbitrary changes for no good reason, even when they are permitted by liturgical law.
A good example is the response used in the prayer of the faithful. In the United States the response is commonly “Lord, hear our prayer” (although some seem to mishear it as “Lord, hear our prayers”; a minor liturgical mondegreen).
This response is not mandated by liturgical law, and so it can be changed. That makes changing it not a liturgical abuse in the proper sense (a violation of liturgical law), but just because it can be changed doesn’t mean it should be changed. Changing it can result in the faithful being jerked out of their usual, prayerful mode of thought and into an awkward state where they have to think about the new response and even wondering whether it fits with the things being prayed for. This results in Bad Liturgy.
Take, for example, the practice of one of the local parishes near me. During certain liturgical seasons and on certain liturgical days they alter “Lord, hear our prayer” to something else.
For example, last Sunday (baptism of the Lord), they were using “Lord, send us your Spirit.” You might think that would be more appropriate for Pentecost, but because the Holy Spirit descended on Jesus at his baptism, they were using it there.
And since the action of the Holy Spirit is involved in every answered prayer, asking God to send the Holy Spirit is something that can be an appropriate response to any legitimate prayer intention.
But “Lord, send us your Spirit” is not the familiar response and it snatches the contemplative, prayerful mindset away and forces the congregation to think about the mechanics of what they’ve just been told to say.
Worse is what they were using on Epiphany, when the response they said to use was “O come let us adore him.”
Not only is response unfamiliar, it’s also a line from a well-known song (meaning that people are going to be thinking about the song), and it’s just too cutsey by half.
Worst of all, it is not a suitable response to all possible petitions. For example:
Lector: That God may guide our president as he makes decisions affecting the welfare of our nation.
People: O come let us adore him.
Now, that specific petition wasn’t one the parish used, but I’ve heard similarly problematic petitions used with “O come let us adore him” in the past.
Like I said, I can’t say that it’s a liturgical abuse in the technical sense to do this, but I can say that it’s Bad Liturgy, and thus it’s one of my liturgical pet peeves.
What are some of yours?
I agree with you, Jimmy. When a non-familiar response to the Prayer of the Faithful is used, I have to concentrate on what I’m supposed to reply, and often find myself asking: “What was that petition again?” I solved my problem by not saying the non-familiar responses, concentrating on the petition, and silently saying: “Lord, hear our prayer.”
One of my pet liturgical peeves is when a priest, instead of saying, “The Lord be with you”, says, “The Lord is with you”. The former is a prayer, as it means “May the Lord be with you”; the word “may” is understood. But the latter is a declarative sentence, an alleged statement of fact. I have to fight an urge to respond, “How do you know, Father? I hope you’re right, but how do you know?”
And don’t even get me started on “gender-editing”.
Okay, stepping off soap box. (For now).
You know, your points just mean the traditional Latin Mass has that much more going for it — higher learning curve, I’ll admit, but far less temptation to play the prayers by ear.
… and, just because there’s this long-due liturgical form doesn’t mean the bad seminarians of the ’70s are going to suddenly stop fiddling with the liturgy and remove the glorious pattern that should be found in it.
Liturgy should be a dance, not a penance.
“Liturgy should be a dance, not a penance.”
Please don’t get me started on liturgical dance!
Good news on the new translation/edition of the Missal is that the rubric “in these or similar words” is mostly removed. The prayer-texts of the Missal are simply prescribed, without further comment.
From what I’ve seen in my parish, the changing of the response was to wake up the people who were ‘running on autopilot’ while dozing through Mass. I’m sorry to have to admit that it happens. I wish it were more like Mass at seminary or while on retreat. Those celebrations were alive with attentive participants. I’ve always wished the regular Sunday crowd was more ‘into’ it because they’d get so much more out of it.
Yes, but it wakes them up not to piety but to “what on earth is the priest doing this time?”
Our parish just started doing this last year. If the lector would at least say the response with the congregation it wouldn’t be so bad. I usually don’t remember the whole phrase until we get to the third or fourth response.
1. When the priest asks for a round of applause during the Mass for the Kids or whatever.
2. When the priest constantly refers to “Eucharistic Ministers” instead of Extrodinary Minsisters or Holy Communion.
3. Bowing instead of genuflecting at the consecration.
(apologies for any misspellings)
Gregory, how soon would it take for the regulars to go back to automatic pilot once they learn the “new” liturgical responses?
This is one of the problems I have with contemporary Catholicism (and, no, I’m not a traditionalist nor a sedevacantist). People spend so much time on relatively minor things like the “proper” liturgical response and less time on what really matters: Reverently worshipping the Triune God.
No wonder people are leaving the Church, if America Magazine’s survey is correct.
Political correctness!!!!!! Can’t stand it.
Jimmy:
I just posted my thoughts on the “Liturgical Pet Peeves” over at NCRegister. It pretty much indicated that I was open to the liturgical fixes, but rather wished someone would also fix the music.
But as I re-read my note after posting, it occurred to me that it involved a few of topics about which I, as a recent convert, am probably ignorant.
To put some context on my questions: I’m a songwriter and arranger and church musician who, after years arranging everything from Christian pop to piano/organ wedding tunes, came into the Catholic Church after — what else? — reading the Church Fathers. Anyway, some things seem dreadfully wrong about the music at Mass, but my parish has a couple of quite talented musicians leading the program. I don’t see how they could be botching it so badly, so there must be some set of circumstances, of which I am unaware, that has tied their hands.
Anyway, here are my questions:
1. Some of the stuff in the Catholic hymnody is execrable. Sorry, but it just is. Treacly text (“lyrics” if you prefer) paired with milquetoasty arrangements performed by insufficiently rehearsed vocalists using sound systems I’d have been embarrassed to have in my dorm room. Why is this? How’d it end up this way?
2. Why is it that the Church with the “fullness of the faith” is devoid of congregational polyphony in its singing? Methodists and Baptists can handle SATB (Soprano-Alto-Tenor-Bass) in their hymnals; can’t Catholics? Surely there’s some sensible explanation for this?
3. Why is the Gloria done like that? Is it because it sounds good in Latin, but just happens to sound awful in English?
In case you’re asking “like what?” let me explain:
The English text of the Gloria has no rhythm nor rhyme or consistent syllable count in each of its phrases, yet some tin-eared dunce seems to have taken it into his head to attempt to use the same melodic shape, over and over and over again, for lines of radically different syllable-count, stress-patterns, and ending sounds.
As a result, every single musical phrase begins with the same couple of pitches, but then repeats one pitch as many times as is necessary to accommodate the different number of syllables in the line, which causes that pitch to occur anywhere from one to oh, I don’t know, a half-dozen or so times.
As if this weren’t bad enough, the actual melodic shape is violently inattentive to the way one would naturally say the words: I mean, it ferociously refuses to fit how the voice would naturally rise and fall, and on which syllables pitch changes ought to occur, and where breaths should naturally fall.
In short, my five-year old improvises more naturally singable and artful melodies. I hear there’s a book titled “Why Catholics Can’t Sing.” I haven’t read it, but that Gloria arrangement is a likely suspect. I suppose being forced to hear the Gloria done that way over and over again for years on end is probably a good way to deaden one’s musical sensibilities until one is no longer capable of telling the difference between J.S.Bach and the Crash Test Dummies.
Okay, I apologize, I’ve allowed my frustration to boil over; I’ll tone it down.
But you know, I really believe. I really believe the Catholic Church has the fullness of the faith…at least as regards doctrine on faith and morals, and the sacraments, and the Apostolic Succession: Everything which determines where the Church “subsists.”
And this makes it all the more frustrating. I finally got into the real Church! Praise God! So why, oh why, should it seem so lacking in the sacred music department?
Please explain it to me. Is there a reason?
R. C.,
I could try to explain, but it is somewhat complicated. Rest asured, the Church and the Mass have access to much good music. Certain developments have conspired to make the current Mass music in the U. S. pretty sad. I haven’t time to lay it all out and I am not sure this is the right post. Anyone interested and is this the right post? I don’t want to thread-jack.
The Chicken
Masked Chicken (what a moniker!), [i]et alia[/i]:
Okay, yes, I guess that does seem like a bit of a threadjack. Sorry.
The pertinence is that it, along with gender-neutralizing and liturgical puppets, falls under the heading of [i]things which make you grind your teeth at Mass[/i].
I’ll grant there’s a certain incongruity to singing “A Mighty Fortress” for historical reasons. But the doctrine is sound, and setting the history aside, I’ll guarantee you your average barrel-chested male can belt out that Luther anthem with a lot more gusto than “On Eagles’ Wings” or “Here I Am Lord.” Some of the Gather stuff is so emasculating…all those lite-jazz-influenced resolve-to-major 7 chords!
Likewise, men with a little choir experience can handle a bass part with more gusto than the main melody; those without just sing the melody an octave below the sopranos.
This link…
http://tinyurl.com/4uoqv49
and this…
http://tinyurl.com/38wmxje
…point to other essays — okay, complaints — on this topic with which I broadly agree.
Anyhow, Jimmy’s someone who seems to have carefully observed a lot going on in the Church before I got here. I was hoping that he, or someone else, could help me figure out how it got this way and when it’s likely to get fixed.
At least it’d help me make less-feeble-sounding excuses to my wife, who wasn’t quite so intent on the Church Fathers as I was and thus didn’t enter the church when I did — and part of whose disinterest is explained by what she sees at Mass when, on occasion, she attends with me.
Joseph D’Hippolito,
The regulars will learn the “new” liturgical responses so that they can go on autopilot. 8-(
Why things are the way they are, or how they got this way, is a longer answer which I’ll leave alone for now.
I would like to respond about the Gloria, though. The reason the Gloria is done “the way” it is, is because it’s not a song – it’s a prayer. It wasn’t meant to be sung in modern musical structure, or even in the older manner of a hymn with verses, choruses, etc. It is a prayer that was written to be prayed. When you try to make it into modern music – even into something more similar to an older hymn – you inevitably run into the problems you mentioned.
On the other hand, when you turn it into chant, as the Church did centuries and centuries ago, it works very nicely. Chant doesn’t have a set structure. Heck, it doesn’t even have a meter. Even when you convert it to modern musical notation (like in this organ accompaniment http://chabanelpsalms.org/introductory_material/Public_Domain_Chant_ACC/LapierreKyriale.pdf) you don’t add a time signature or anything. If you try to add a time signature, you’ll find you need to keep changing it. For instance, try adding a key signature to the Kyrie for Mass VIII from that link: you’ll probably end up with 5/4 for one bar, and then 6/4 for another, and then 4/4, and then 11/8, and then 5/4, etc.
To make a rough analogy, there are books which you can make into a movie, and then there are those which just really don’t make the transition, due to their format, structure, style, etc. A prayer like the Gloria just doesn’t translate to any kind of musical “structure” well.
Dear R. C.,
Just to be sure you know, the correct html code for italics is < i (no space) > at the beginning and < /i (no space) > at the end.
Shane,
What you say about the Gloria is not true from a musicological standpoint. Machaut’s Ass setting from about 1360 has a glorious (no pun intended) Gloria setting for four parts, if memory serves. There is also the Des Prez Mass from the early 1500’s, etc. Even chant settings can have structure. We have poor Gloria settings in English because the modern hymn books are using, how shall I put this politely, the work of not very good composers. If you think you have to grit your teeth at Mass, I have a doctorate in music including ten years of Ph .d-level study of music history. Righteous anger is no sin and the state of modern U. S. Catholic music calls for righteous anger, in my opinion, although mine sometimes spills over into uncharity.
The Chicken
I am as much (or more) of a “grammar Nazi” as anyone else when it comes to Sacred Liturgy. (I have an autographed copy of Jimmy’s Mass Confusion and refer to it regularly.) As an amateur Swing dancer, I completely understand and appreciate the analogy in Jimmy’s article.
However…
Judging by the comments on Time magazine’s web article about the coming beatification of Pope John Paul II (as well as the editorializing “helpful links” throughout the article, e.g. Carla Bruni banned, bare-chested acrobats), I’d say the faithful have bigger fish to fry than the upcoming wording changes.
Apparently, there’s still quite a few people (and organizations – I’m looking at you, Time magazine!) that seek to denigrate the Catholic faith and Catholics in general. Maybe we need to spend more of our time evangelizing the world.
Chicken,
I hope I’ve understood you correctly, so apologies if my response is not consistent with your meaning. Also, please do not take my terse reply as rudeness – I had typed up a much fuller response which was lost and I do not wish to spend the time repeating the entire process.
First, you are correct that the Gloria and other prayers of the Mass have been successfully set to structures in the past, if by structures you are referring to a harmonic structure. The two Mass “settings” you mention are good examples of this. (As a brief aside, it is not correct to say that chant can have structure in this way. These are two examples of polyphony which is what you get when you take chant or something similar and build a harmonic structure on top of the monotone melody.)
However, it’s not correct to say that these prayers were ever really put into a structure in the sense of the form of a musical work. By form I mean the way the piece flows in time. For instance, most piano rags follow the AA B A CC DD form. Modern music usually goes Verse/Verse/Chorus/Verse/Bridge/Chorus/Chorus, or some variation thereof. Hymns usually go Chorus/Verse/Chorus/Verse/Chorus/Verse etc. Most of the Mass settings we have today try to force these ancient prayers into these forms.
Music written for these forms is always written with these forms in mind. So, when a modern song is written, or when hymns were/are written, whether the music is composes first, the lyrics written first, or the two created alongside one another. The form – whatever it is – is already in mind, at least generally. It’s an entirely different thing to take something – an ancient prayer, a section of prose, a text book – really whatever – and try to force it to fit into some form it wasn’t written to accommodate.
This is the reason that so often in these modern Glorias and Sanctuses you see words chopped out and added, like the annoying jumpy Gloria they play at a local parish which adds “sing glory to God” to the prayer. They’re trying to twist it, stretch it, or do whatever else they need to to make the words fit the musical form, when really, they need to be focused on letting the musical form fit the words, which is what Chant and polyphony do. Otherwise, you end up trying to find places to break the prayers up so as to create verses and doing a whole bunch of other things which just don’t help the music out at all.
My preferred church in the area actually has a Gloria that they do somewhat regularly which takes the opening of the Gloria from Mass VIII (from the Graduale – the Church’s centuries old, official “music book” for the Mass, for those unfamiliar with it) and makes it a chorus or a response, and then has the rest of it broken into verses and chanted in English. It’s worlds and worlds ahead of the settings most Catholics see each Sunday, but its still just, in my opinion, a little off, owing very largely to splitting it up into a form it was never meant to take.
God bless,
Shane
Sorry for my mispelling, above. Typing on a Kindle. Wonky on the capital letters.
Shane,
I agree that many ancient through-composed prayers are not symmetric, although troping can make them so. There are, hoever, some early chant types that do have a great deal of structure, such as the later form of the sequence, although the structure is in recurring themes within the sequemcus more than straight parallelism from one phrase to another. The Gloria is a strange case because it is among the most florid of prayers and had the most flexibility as far as troping. Strict structure was not really introduced until isorhythmic motetes developed and even then the structure is hidden between the plaimchant tenor and the other parts. Not true polyphony, not true chant. I do agree that there is no easily adapted structured melody that goes with a vanilla Gloria, but there are so many good historical settings in polyphpny and simple continuous melody that one wonders why these treasures have been lost to the man in the pew. U.S. Liturgical music never really got out of the 1960’s.
The Chicken
Sorry for the Kindle-typing mistakes. This has not been my week with computers and smart phone-type devices. I also lost a post this week.
The Chicken
As far as the Latin Rite goes,The Low Mass does not have a lot of “dancing in it”.
The Missa Cantata has a bit more as does the Solemn Mass, but since most of the “dance” responses are sung and do not vary much, unless in Mass setting, there is much more liturgical stability in the TLM.
It’s a much more theologically, and liturgically safe “waltz”
If the Church desires liturgical solidity and bedrock solid rubrics the Traditional Latin Mass is the way to go, to say nothing of the TLM’s superior theology backing it.