I'm...(Insert Prepositional Phrase)

I could subtitle this post "Summer Stupidity." In the last couple weeks several friends introduced to me or reminded me of a couple of the world's more ridiculous musical numbers. They're catchy. Yet, in the same breath I can't exaggerate their utter meaninglessness.

First— "I'm at the Pizza Hut; I'm at the Taco Bell; I'm at the combination Pizza Hut and Taco Bell." "Das Racist," a Brooklyn based group is responsible for this doozy. What are the lyrics for a majority of the song? You guessed it! I suspect illegal drugs were partly responsible for this song. Remarkably, some people feel this one is a stroke of genius.

I'm at the Pizza Hut etc.

A friend who attends law school in San Francisco alerted me to this song. Apparently Victor Vazquez, one of two in "Das Racist," comes from the Bay area and they have made recurring appearances at a particular club in the vicinity. Wannabe hipster site pitchfork.com has hailed this as the ultimate summer tune. I think they missed the mark. I dub it the ultimate validation of drugs-gone-wrong.

Second— "I'm on a Boat." SNL brings us this fine skit in the form of music video. A special guest appears with "The Lonely Island." This one, contrasting our former number, brims with sundry creative lyrics and a special guest who exemplifies use and abuse- here concerning Auto Tune! The song itself parodies many rap cliches and climbed to the top of You Tube in February 2009. Don't expect to find it there, however- NBC seems pretty diligent about getting its material pulled. Strangely enough, it really takes an effective jab a commercialized hip-hop's all-too-frequent absurd materialism. It sits a few notches up from the previous number on my quality ladder.



When I listen to these songs two things happen in this order:

1. I think of people who argue for "context" as the final determinant in Liturgical Music and those who draw lines quickly. I can't fathom a situation where music that sounds like this could ever be near a Church. However, there's not much to counter this if all that matters is how music "speaks to people" directly. On the other hand, I can't see where people who cast out whole genres quickly make their boundaries. Music exists on a massive continuum. If a congregation sings Tantum Ergo at benediction and Tom Booth immediately follows up with a crashing trap-set for the recessional, this seems perverse. But if the whole Mass was Tom Booth, young people who came expecting this, and most importantly, were edified by it— where's the beef? However, I think these songs show that we can imagine boundaries if not pinpoint them precisely!

2. My brain shuts down.

The Danger of Profiling

This is a hot topic, especially today with all the hullabaloo about the Cambridge MA Police Department arresting an African-American breaking into his own home, Obama commenting, etc. But that's not the application I wish to address.

In perusing Catholic blogs again (as I convalesce from a wretched tooth extraction) I become a little weary and wary when the soundbytes start to fly. I tend to believe that anything worthy can't be so simplistically reduced. Yet, I find myself continually disappointed.

I find myself in an awkward position for a couple reasons:
1. I am a Catholic musician who is converging on a music degree
2. I am a Catholic musician converging on a music degree living in an extremely conservative/neoconservative/orthodox? diocese who considers graduate studies at Notre Dame.

Regarding the first: There is an apparent chasm in Catholic culture, specifically in liturgical matters. Language has been duly appropriated, terms politically charged. This is unfortunate. For example: parish pianist vs. parish organist, choir director vs. choir leader, parish/pastoral musician vs. music director, pastoral musician vs. sacred musician, sacred musician vs. liturgical musician, Latin vs. no Latin.

I understand there may be substantive differences with these, particularly sacred vs. liturgical (Anthony Ruff distinguishes the two well in his homerun, landmark book). However, it's the political connotations that make this silly. Should we be confortable with making these profiles more from politics than informed theological positions (of which many are valid I must emphasize)!

I can't recall at the moment where I read this but apparently an Episcopal Church Musician once said that "pastoral musician" was essentially a synonym for "bad musician." I'm sure plenty of Catholics who read NLM, CMAA, Fr. Z. etc. would wholeheartedly agree and happily supply anecdotes. "Pastoral musicians" could easily retort with a wholly valid argument: the primary purpose of liturgy is not to showcase art.

On the other hand, I've read many a blog where "pastoral musicians" express disgust for the idolatrous aestheticism that can overtake the highly schooled musician or artist. One may simply counter, however, that the Catholic Church has perhaps the largest tradition of any institution to encourage the development of art. Bug off with the iconoclasm.

I'm not sure precisely where it appears I fall. I'm not sure that I have a choice. Currently the cards are stacked against me: organ is not a favored instrument in many Catholic parishes, organ literature holds even less relevance or prestige, degree holders are increasingly rare in church music. Thus, due to my love of something associated with the past and high artistic standards, I'm probably an elitist- and that's a bad thing.

Regarding the second: There are few places to pursue a sound, well-rounded liturgical/sacred music graduate degree in the US- especially with a Catholic twist. Notre Dame stands out as a rare and notable exception. Problems arise though. As one acquaintance recently put it, and he didn't mean it well, "Oh, you mean the newly christened University of Obama?"

This vexes me. People would be all too eager to make assumptions about my politics, albeit via flawed reasoning (the whole post hoc, ergo propter hoc thing.) This becomes a problem for no other reason than it can create tension with parishioners where I work- parishioners who happen to be both nosy and politically zealous. No, I don't love ND because the President spoke at graduation. No, I wasn't disinterested before he came either. Neither statement reflects my thoughts on the President or politics. Think carefully on that one.

It alarms me, however, that even bishops will encourage this kind of thinking. At a recent conference I helped with an attendee queried Bishop Jackels of Wichita regarding the preservation of "Catholic" identity in our "Catholic" colleges and universities. His answer was to boycott them- not just Notre Dame, but most others too. He suggested several alternatives.

The problem, however, is that the 4 alternatives probably have a collective 1500 students and 3 programs. That's great if one wishes to study philosophy, theology, or youth ministry. What about the novel idea of studying one of the world's many other topics at a Catholic school? Apparently, that's not a concern.

And really, all music schools are full of flitty, feather-brained liberals. "Birds of a feather flock together." Read: Orthodox Catholics beware of applicants armed with graduate music degrees! Thus, I'm probably a theologically dissident liberal.

But what ever happened to letting people speak for themselves? What about the possibility of a "both...and" solution. Can a person with a degree be a relevant "pastoral" musician? Yes. Can one without a degree be a competent one? Yes, as well. The answer truly varies from person to person, from situation to situation.

We all know the stereotypes, but what use has invoking them? Ultimately this calls for an explanation and explanations of stereotypes inevitably devolve into polemical rants or fierce anecdote wars. It's like a conversation I had this morning:

Me: I didn't realize Rush Limbaugh was fired from FOX for racist comments
Party 2: He only said that black quarter-backs were better.
Me: Which is meaningless and, like I said, racist.
Party 2: No, he's just stating the fact that blacks are better athletes
Me: really, we're going there?

Who knows if that stereotype really means something? It's possible, but the truth lies deeply buried in a myriad of converging explanations and a tangled web of sociology. In short, like most generalizations, their ambiguity and offensiveness far outweigh their usefulness.

So, I've been called an elitist— wholly due to my zeal for learning. In this case, I'll wear that badge with honor. If music school teaches me how to write a singable melody and that's "elitism" we're in bad shape. I'm not, however, going to go into a Byzantine fracturing of "Eagle's' Wings" or "Be Not Afraid" and tell 100 reasons why these are poorly written. They are. Yet, people sing them- however incorrectly. This is proof enough for me but winning an argument isn't the point. Improving the situation is- whether that's teaching the songs correctly, writing new ones, or resorting to the "Treasury of Sacred Music" when possible.

Elitism is not what you know but what you do with it- if I learn something I plan to share it with my parish and choir. Beauty and Truth will always be hot commodities. Conscious mediocrity might be second to dishonesty in things that set me off.

Do I have aesthetic standards? Yes.
Do I wish to engage people in the liturgy? Yes
Is it possible to maximize variables? No
Is it possible to optimize variables? Yes

Wow! Fancy that. As long as I don't turn into a philandering AGO grouch someday I'll consider myself marginally successful.

But, really, Vatican II got rid of that old music and Purgatory...

Just kidding.

Archbishop Lucas- The Installation Part II

"All creatures of our God and King, Lift up your voice and with us sing: Alleluia!"

St. Cecilia Cathedral's eloquence in stone as well as the silvery words of Archbishop Lucas instilled in me (and surely all those assembled Wednesday) a renewed conviction of evangelical enthusiasm. This is not the intellectually bankrupt and trite excitement that characterizes some of the crazier Fundamentalist denominations but the broadest, richest, and most universal sense that is unique to Catholicism. The homily text may be found here: Lucas Homily. For the moment, one may watch the ceremony on-demand here: Lucas Installation.

St. Paul, the first Apostle to the Gentiles, seems a good place to start. Accordingly Archbishop Lucas began his homily reflecting upon the Epistle from 1 Corinthians 12:

St. Paul tells us very clearly that there will be different spiritual gifts, different charisms in the Church. Each gift is truly a manifestation of the One Holy Spirit. The gifts are ordered in their diversity to serve the one Lord Jesus Christ. We give thanks to God that these God-given gifts are so evident as we gather here in this Sacred Liturgy. We are the proof that St. Paul was right about the nature of the Church.

And evident they were! The very ambo from which he preached is carved of South American mahogany and flanked with sculptures of doctors of the church (Peter, Paul, Jerome, Ambrose, Augustine, Gregory the Great). The pulpit itself anticipates the richness of the Word. Czech-born sculptor Albin Polasek created this stunning piece of liturgical furniture as well as the moving crucifix and Stations of the Cross.

Continuing the theme of creativity: Brother William Woeger FSC, Archdiocesan Worship Director designed a Missal specifically for the Installation Mass, never to be used again. The Missal nearly covered the upper torso of the acolyte- it is about two feet tall. Constructed of heavy stock, it was stitched by the Art Department at the University of Nebraska Omaha. The cover is striking: white with a large variant of the Patriarchal Cross in gold with flecks of forest green emblazoned upon it. This is a symbol of the Byzantine Church in the East but also represents the office of Archbishop in the West. I created a horrible replica to give a sense of it. One may catch glimpses of it in the broadcast.

Archbishop Lucas expanded on this concept of diverse gifts as he worked his way through the homily, giving credit to the many people who contributed and attended. He departed from the script a little when he spoke of Music:

I'm just overwhelmed as I think we all are with the gifts of our choir and musicians. You help us long for the heavenly Liturgy as we lift our minds, hearts, and voices to God. You bring honor to St. Cecilia herself and to her Lord and our Lord.

Amen! Countless things about that space proclaim Music as a gateway to heaven. Need I mention the patroness, St. Cecilia in the rose window? First, the building itself sings. When empty the Cathedral has a superb undistorted reverberation of seven seconds which surprisingly helps song blossom and the organ to sing. Sound dances as much as light in this harmonious space. The post-renovation ceiling is full of warm, Mediterranean gold, deep red, and rich star-studded blue. The sun splashes its light as alive as the voice of the Church singing there.

Secondly, the windows. Designed by Charles Connick of Boston, the clerestory windows literally depict the great hymns of the Church: the Magnificat, Te Deum, Gloria, Stabat Mater, Victimae Paschali, Veni Sancte Spiritus, Dies Irae, and Pange Lingua. Thus, the very light which illuminates our worship passes through song!

Thirdly, literally. Text from the Antiphons for the feast of St. Cecilia scroll around the nave high in the entablature at the base of the barrel vaults. Translated it reads:

Alleluia, Alleluia! As dawn was breaking into day, Cecilia cried out saying, "courage, soldiers of Christ. Cast off the works of darkness and put on the armor of light!" While the instruments were playing, Cecilia sang unto the Lord saying, "Let my heart be undefiled that I be not ashamed." Alleluia, Alleluia!

I thought about this as I listened to the choir sing "Greater Love Hath No Man" at the Offertory. Archbishop Lucas emphasized that we did not come here today from nowhere- we come from the labors of those before us. People have been using their gifts since St. Paul. According to tradition, St. Cecilia sang to God as she died. Walking through subterranean Roman tombs in May, I could viscerally contemplate Cecilia and the early martyrs with their pioneer spirit.

These things are so far away in space and time yet they persist in one remarkable continuum. We unite our voices and sing: "Lord, hear our prayer. Deus exaudi nos. Señor escucha nos." When one comes together with a thousand and supplicates these words in song it puts identity and purpose in perspective. It brings us into awareness of the Communion of Saints, the Universal Church. Archbishop Lucas summarized:

Do we need any further evidence then that St. Paul is right? All of these different people whom I have mentioned manifest the actions of the One Holy Spirit. We don't form separate constituencies; We are not partisans. We are members of the body of Christ. It is the living Lord that is present in this Sacred Liturgy...Drinking freely of the One Spirit we come now to offer fitting praise, honor, and glory to our One Father.

Echoing his words from high above the organ, flanking the gallery, John Dryden's (1687) "Song for Saint Cecilia's Day" exclaims:

From Harmony, From Heav'nly Harmony
This Universal Frame Began:
From Harmony to Harmony,
Through all the Compass of Notes it Ran.
The Diapason Closing Full in Man.

But Oh! What Art Can Teach,
What Human Voice Can Reach
The Sacred Organ's Praise?
Notes Inspiring Holy Love,
Notes that Wing Their Heav'nly Ways
to Mend the Choirs Above.

But Bright Cecilia Rais'd the Wonder Higher:
When to Her Organ Vocal Breath Was Given,
An Angel Heard, and Straight Appear'd-
Mistaking Earth for Heaven.

And heavenly it was.

Archbishop Lucas- The Installation Part I

I had never attended a Eucharistic Liturgy in St. Cecilia Cathedral. Needless to say, Wednesday's installation could not have been a better first time! I've been to numerous events at St. Cecilia's but never a Mass. After receiving a ticket at the last moment for this closed-door event I was bursting with anticipation.

The day converged on perfection. The weather couldn't have behaved better for July in Nebraska- mild, slightly breezy and overcast, making the outdoor hors d'oeuvres and champagne reception exceedingly pleasant.

The Mass, however, was amazing. For those who love ceremony it offered a true feast. The Apostolic Nuncio to the United States, Archbishop Pietro Sambi officiated with Archbishop Emeritus Elden Curtiss at his side. The suffragan bishops of Nebraska sat close by as well. Cardinals Rigali and George attended along with over 40 US bishops and the abbot and retired abbot of Mt. Michael Abbey in the Archdiocese at Elkhorn. Numerous priests (ca. 250) from Omaha, Springfield, IL, St Louis, and other dioceses filled the front left quarter of the nave.

Following the lengthy procession into the cathedral, the rector, Fr. Gutgsell and the College of Consulters processed to the main door as Dr. Bauer played a solemn anonymous 16th century intabulation of Veni Creator with zimbelstern on the mean-tone stops. It was hair-raising.

Archbishop Emeritus Curtiss offered words of welcome and Archbishop Sambi subsequently read an English translation of the Holy Father's bull appointing Lucas to the Metropolitan See. A .pdf of the bull can be read here, BXVI Omaha Bull . Following the Consulters' inspection the Chancellor presented it to the entire congregation assembled.

Sambi and Curtiss then led Archbishop Lucas to the cathedra and seated him with his crozier. Following vigorous applause the choir sang Duruflé's ethereal Ubi Caritas as representatives of Archdiocesan associations and ethnic communities greeted their new Ordinary. The Mass thence proceeded customarily. One may see a program here: Lucas Installation Mass.

This liturgy validated everything I have heard about the high standards at St. Cecilia Cathedral. The ministers executed all the actions of this celebration with organic fluidity yet exacting precision. The wedding of sacrament, assembly, sound, and space was breathtaking.

Dr. Bauer designed a prelude program which highlighted the Church as Universal and thus fittingly prepared the assembly for the liturgy shortly to transpire.

The first component was offered in "Honor of the Church on Earth." It commenced with De Grigny's Plein Jeu from Veni Creator Spiritus- using the old mean-tone temperament, course! A composition from Dr. Bauer's pen followed this rousing French Baroque work. "Take My Life" couples a poignant poetic text of 1874 by Francis Havergal with a lyric choral setting accompanied by flute and organ. The theme of service and sacrifice was most appropriate. Palladium Brass rounded out this segment with an intabulation of Palestrina's Agnus Dei from Missa Sacerdos et Pontifex- again, how fitting!

"In Honor of the Church in Heaven" commenced with "O Pray for the Peace of Jerusalem" by the always gorgeous 20th century English composer Herbert Howells. Buxtehude's Nun lob, mein' Seel', den Herren followed- showcasing again, the Pasi organ's unique mean-tone capabilities.

Sections honoring Pope Benedict XVI, the BVM, and Our Lord, came next with Duruflé's Tu es Petrus (with the chant and brass arrangment as well), the ubiquitous Schubert Ave Maria, and Hassler's Cantate Domino, respectively. The prelude concluded as the brass declaimed Andrea Gabrieli's solemn "Ricercar on the Sixth Tone."

Highlights of the music at the Mass include John Ireland's apropos "Greater Love Hath No Man" at the Offertory and Henryk Gorecki's ever popular Totus Tuus after the communion hymn.

The hymns closely followed the texts of the liturgy- the choir chanted the proper Communio from Psalm 23 and then we all sang "The King of Love" and Theophane Hytrek's "I am the Good Shepherd." Another great example of engaging, well-planned liturgy.

Kudos to Dr. Bauer for steering a sterling program at Omaha's Cathedral. Good music that contributes to good liturgy is a gift that keeps on giving- in more than one way! American Catholic church musicians who wish to grow their programs should look to Omaha. It's amazing how many of the old excuses and obstacles fall away or diminish when a skilled, qualified, and magnanimous person takes the wheel.

In case it seems like my enthusiasm about all these details somehow lies tangent to some "proper," or rather, more dispassionate and cerebral concept of what matters in Liturgy, that is, Church, let me offer my summary of Archbishop Lucas' premier homily.

Continued...

The Correct Translation

I have a confession: rather than practicing those indespensible scales I have been perusing the Catholic blogosphere- both time consuming and occasionally frustrating! After two hours of digging I feel like every synapse in my brain is firing. There are just too many worthy issues to discuss and not nearly enough time... and given that this is an big election year everything is spinning in overdrive.

A series of posts on the Commonweal blog caught my eye. The USCCB's rejection of the newly proposed Roman Missal translations (reported 8 July) has generated a firestorm of response.

And here is where I descend into the generalizations: On one hand many US Bishops disliked the archaic language of the 2008 ICEL proposal. There is a great need for sensitive and resonant texts. Afterall, if people can't comprehend language what use has it?

On the other side champions of the newly proposed texts see this as a refreshing return to the authentic spirit of of the Latin texts- or at least a bona fide step in that direction. The 1997 ICEL translation was a 'watered-down' politically correct sham.

Looking at side-by-side excepts from the Missale Romanum, the Cramner/Duffy Reformation-era English, and the 1997 and 2008 ICEL renditions we can make some interesting observations. The differences are clear but the the motivations, ideology, and Ecclesiology behind them is at best debatable and at worst open to pure and shameless speculation.

For example: the 11th Sunday in Ordinary Time: from 1997 we get "O God, the strength of all who hope in you..." From 2008 we have "O God, the strength of those who hope in you..." What's the difference? "All." Oh, we can read so much into this!! It's just like that worn over "pro multis" debate: 'God didn't come with that hippy inclusive language. He came with law and hard teachings. The Church is a special club and only certain people can make it.' Well, maybe. To echo the Academy Award-winning film There Will be Blood, "The doctrine of universal salvation is a lie, a lie!..."

Indulge me with another highlight, this time from the 12th Sun in OT. The 1997 version says "Lord God, teach us to hold your holy name both in awe and in lasting affection..." 2008 goes like this: "Grant us, O Lord, fear and love of your holy name always and in equal measure..." Key words that pop out , for me, are "teach" vs. "grant," "fear" vs. "awe," and "affection" vs. "equal measure."

My guesses on each... "Teach" is an everyday word that any English speaker comprehends quite quickly. "Grant" sounds legalistic or even archaic, to put it negatively...maybe 'formal' is a less derogatory description. I am trying to imagine, "Mom, prithee grant unto me thy blessings such that I may take the car for the evening." Who talks like that? Should the language of the Liturgy be the language of everyday (vis-a-vis meaningful and comprehensible)? Perhaps the broader question is, what kind of God do we have and how ought we approach him? "Does God wait to smite us with his divinely jeweled orb and sceptre?" or is he our "friend"? Maybe both, perhaps? If so, how do we strike a balance?

"Fear vs. awe:" Like "Fear of the Lord" disappearing from some Cathechetical texts, this is another one that draws the battle lines. Screams the Trad: "People these days need to be reminded that everything we have comes from God! We would cease to breathe if he forgot us for an instant! We can die at any second! Did I mention how terrible Hell is and that real people you and I know will probably go there?" Anyone ready for 1950's style sexual repression, depression, closet alcoholism, and abuse? An authoritarian culture of fear? Well, purely correlated, purely correlated. Then Sr. Starbeam butts in: "You stupid people and your fixation on fear. God loves all and forgives all- I'm okay, you're okay, God too. We care way too much about these old fashioned legalistic concepts of God and the Church. God is a woman and a beautiful one. We should be in awe of her feminine mystique. Fear? The only thing you should fear is me and my improvised liturgy!"

As for "affection" vs. "equal measure"...Huh? How do they even come up with this stuff?! Don't tempt me to start stereotypes about clergy, loony Latinists, and intimacy hangups. Ever read Song of Songs? God loves the Church in a visceral way, to put it mildly. These were earthy Mediterraneans writing- they knew how to be blunt and have fun. I guess I gave away my preference on this one.

Okay, I digress, massively! One of my Latin professors, a weathered classicist with more books in dead languages than the Library of Congress, once relayed this relevant story to our class: "As we were translating passages one day I had three students with three rather distinct renditions of one line. We heard them all and then one girl, sitting in the very back row, right in there" (he pointed to the very same seat), "asked, 'But, Dr. W-, what is the correct translation?' And then I just laughed." Why? **Disclaimer: This answer may cause some folks' skin to crawl**: there isn't one! Yes, I know, this seems to reek of "moral" relativism. But think, if you've ever studied a language you know this is absolutely true. And what about Babel? Don't we believe as a matter of Faith that language and communication hurdles are just one of many consequences of sin?

So, the point to all my ramblings: chasing the perfect/correct translation is chasing the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. We'll never get it. To me this seems almost common sense but I am always surprised by what I find out there! To be clear, I acknowledge that a translation may be correct insofar as it is 'officially' endorsed or prescribed by the Vatican. I cannot, however, believe or even take seriously someone who thinks any given translation is unquestionable. There are too many factors to consider and none can accommodate them all: formality, accessibility, intelligibility, rhythm, ...even length, to name a few (how dryly pragmatic)!

Rather than the 'correct' translation we ought to seek the 'best' translation- and even that presupposes expectations built on a consensus. I hope and pray that the USCCB can agree on some concrete parameters which will guides its suggested revisions. Otherwise we're back with the same problem... And whatever they eventually agree upon I'm okay- even if I can't reconcile it with my ideology and preference. That's hard to swallow. When we say something is "correct" I suspect we often mean that it is merely congruent with our strongly held convictions or preferences- which is nice if it happens, incidentally. Either way, I trust the Bishops of this Country to make a choice that anyone can respect. If I don't like it I'm not going to go off and switch Rites or found the SSPX.

And then, some day, getting the ICEL and Vatican to validate it all? That mountain is safely in the distance, for now.