Return: What did Musicam Sacram intend, and what is "active participation"?
Sorry I have been away for so long, but a number of things have been brewing. Nonetheless, the precis and analysis of the Constitution on the Divine Liturgy will be coming along "real soon now".
It also appears that Paul Rex and the redoubtable Todd have been mixing it up of late as regards what a progressive is, and as regards the efforts of "traditionalists" actually to implement Vatican II's Musicam Sacram in liturgical life in this country.
Todd appears in his weblog to be stating that Musicam Sacram simply says that "Gregorian Chant is to be given pride of place, all things being equal." He appears also, like most so-called "progressives", to give greater weight to the latter phrase, rather than the former.
However, this appears to me to be a misreading, or at least, an incomplete reading of what the Vatican II document actually had to say. If I am reading it right, then Musicam Sacram basically says the following:
1. In all liturgical gatherings, Gregorian Chant is to be given pride of place;
2. That the whole treasury of sacred polyphony is to be preserved and cultivated;
3. That in context with the above, the songs or hymns of the people are to be encouraged.
It would appear that rather than looking at everything through the looking glass of modern sensibilities, if the words "pride of place" mean anything at all, then not only does it mean that where there is a choice between chant and polyphony, or chant and modern hymnography, that the preference is toward chant, but that the focus of sensibilities should be on the esthetics and theology of chant, and not those of modern hymnography. This would also appear to be both what Popes Pius and John Paul the Great have emphasized in their respective treatises on sacred music.
Further, it would appear that if the dictates of MS were followed, then the esthetics and theology of chant should inform both the preservation and cultivation of sacred polyphony, and the encouragement of modern hymnography.
This appears to be far from what the "progressives" are doing. I wonder whether RC liturgical traditionalists understand this either?
Another point: progress in essence means travel toward a goal. What goal are so-called progressives moving toward?
One goal which they state openly is the "active participation" of the people, one of the few statements from Vatican II that they appear actually to be following. By this, they appear to mean that the people have to sing everything. This appears to have been the rationale for dismantling choirs. This also appears to be the rationale for throwing out chant, polyphony, and even traditional hymns as being "too difficult" for the people, with the subsequent Kumbayazation of the modern American RC Church.
I suggest that we may have another model for what "active participation" is, from Scripture and from Eastern Tradition.
Orthodox liturgical theologians are united with the Fathers in the teaching that the Divine Liturgy is the icon of the Kingdom of Heaven. In the various commentaries on the Byzantine Liturgy, the commentators, from Dionesios the (Pseudo)Areopagite to Germanos, all agree that the various ministers, people, and even implements are icons of particular persons or functions within that Kingdom: The priest is the icon of the sacrificing and the sacrificed Christ; the deacon is the icon of the praying Church; and the singers and people are the icons of the angelic choir. This last is set out plainly in the Cherubic Hymn, sung during the middle of the Byzantine Liturgy:
Let us who mystically represent the cherubim, and who sing the thrice-holy hymn to the uncreated Trinity, now cast aside all earthly care. Amen. That we may receive the King of all, Who comes invisibly upborne by the angelic host. Alleluia! Alleluia! Alleluia!
From Isaiah and the Revelation of John, we know that the angels constantly sing in praise of God. From the Psalm (whose number I have temporarily lost as a result of "Old-Timers Disease"), we know that "the angels declare to one another the glory of God." At any rate, it does not appear from Scripture that the angels minimize worship to a "said mass." If the worshiping choir and congregation at Liturgy are the icons of that heavenly choir, then neither should we.
But in looking further at the psalm verse, it appears that they are singing or even teaching one another. There appears to be a double process of listening and singing, rather than a single one of simply singing.
This process appears to have been manifested in monastic practice, where from the second century on, the monks would gather into two groups, and would sing the Psalms and other hymns to one another. This also appears to be the case in earliest Feasts of the Eastern Church, such as Nativity (Christmas), Theophany (Epiphany), Ascension and Pentecost, where the stichera hymns of Vespers were repeated, ostensibly so that each group could sing the hymn, and each group could hear it.
This process of listening and singing appears also to have been maintained in the full monastic practice of Mount Athos in Greece, where the monks maintain the practice of singing in alternation. It was formerly the case that all domestic liturgies at church were also sung by antiphonal choirs or cantors, but this practice seems to have lapsed, at least in the United States.
Nonetheless, in addition to the example of active participation as expressed in both listening and singing, there is also the dialogic character of the Byzantine (and other) liturgies. In the litanies, for example, there is a sung dialog between the deacon, who prays on behalf of the church, of the people who pray for God's mercy, and further, a dialog between the priest, who offers the blessing of God, and the people who respond with their "Amen".
This dialogic character is present throughout the Liturgy, in the antiphons, the litanies, the hymns, the readings from scripture, and the creed, achieving its climax with the anaphora, or the eucharistic prayer. But through all of this, there is chant and response, where all have their part, all can sing, but all also can hear.
Finally, at least in Eastern liturgy, there appears to remain the understanding that in the Kingdom of Heaven, there are hierarchies of angels, from those nearest to the presence of God to those farther off, each order teaching the next. One thing to be noted in the angelic hierarchies, however, is that they are not those of earthly power, in which the lesser served the greater, but those of knowledge and diakonia, in which the higher orders of angels serve and teach the lesser. It appears to be a pity that few Westerners these days read Dionesios the Areopagite, who had taught both about the divine hierarchies, and concerning divine worship as participating in that hierarchy.
This hierarchical understanding of liturgy informs the Byzantine Liturgy, and once informed the Tridentine rite of the Roman Church. In terms of vision, the priest, deacon and servers, with their robes, symbolize (or to coin a word, iconify) the procession of the Kingdom of Heaven and the heavenly host into the midst of humankind. In terms of sound, the priest initiates the chant, which the deacon takes up, and which resounds among the readers of the Epistle/Apostle, the psalm readers, the cantors (or choir), and the people, each teaching and informing the other.
Thus, from Scripture and Eastern Tradition (which I believe has a common source with the West), there appear to be three principles within divine worship: 1) an active participation which involves singing and listening, or to put it more briefly, call and response; 2) dialog between and among those who serve, those who sing, and all the people, with all raising their prayers to God; 3) hierarchy, where the higher orders serve and inform the lesser. These principles have informed and enriched the Eastern Churches; they also informed the Western Latin Church, until they were forgotten and/or abandoned.
As a last word on the subject, it should be common sense that if one sings everything, one hears nothing. That would appear, rather than being participation, to be self-indulgence.
I suppose that the next question would be: How may these principles be used for an actual reform of the Roman liturgy? But that is another story.
2 Comments:
Regarding the right reading of Musicam Sacram and Sacrosanctum Concilium from which it flowed, may I suggest to readers the following post that restates what you have written: Ruminations on Sacrosanctum Concilium 116.
Peace, Bernard.
Rather than clog up your blog with a lengthy response to your substantial post, let me focus on a few matters.
Speaking as a progressive, I would reject the notion of "singing" or "action" only. Especially at the expense of the ritual dialogue of "call and response," as you aptly put it. Most progressives I know have zealously advocated for a measure of reflective silence at liturgy. Cardinal Mahony, oft villified in the St Blogodrome, advocates as such in his pastoral letter. Lots of folks get nervous when I suggest even twenty seconds of silence after readings and prayers.
You call me to task (and perhaps rightly so) for treading cautiously around our favorite SC 116 catch phrase. You do avoid mentioning my concession (or confession) that if I served a traditionalist parish, I would not feel the need to steer them away from plainsong and polyphony, and certainly not into musical forms that would reap pastoral and aesthetic disaster. Likewise I have the same disaster-avoidance for my own parish. I would hope you would give me credit where credit (small or fantastical as it may be) is due.
Again, I would stress there is a difference between the sensibilities of musically incompetent leadership that simply doesn't know any better, and those who are more than aware of the liturgical documents and their own abilities, but tread carefully with their people who have never known chant, polyphony, or other such considerations.
Lastly, it is good to remember that musicians are mostly a creative lot, especially the very best ones. There's still a lot of energy in the Church for new compositions, not (necessarily) from the ego trips of composers, but perhaps because the musical heritage itself is so inspirational. When I return home from a concert, one of my first impulses is to sit at the piano and create. Am I merely stroking an ego that thinks it can improve on Palestrina, Handel, or Hovhaness? I don't think so.
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