Summary of Moralists on Organ Playing Non-Catholic Services and Communicatio in Sacris

[3] Some authors do not give formal communication so wide an extent; they do not consider every active participation in a non-Catholic religious service as a formal communication. Vermeersch, for example, looks upon playing the organ as a form of proximate material co-operation [sic].[16] Since the majority of the moralists,[17] however, consider that action as a formal communication in non-Catholic worship, and since the Holy See has said it is never allowed,[18] there seems to be justification for including it under the general heading of formal communication. By reason of its part in the function, playing the organ at a religious service is to be classed as a specifically religious action.

This attitude of Vermeersch follows from a difference he notes between communication and participation. Both consist in taking part in the action of another, whether merely internally by intention [4] and desire, or externally, too. To his mind external communication is considered as formal, while external participation is reduced rather to co-operation, which in some matters can be formal or merely material, according to the intention.[19] There seems, however, to be no practical reason for this distinction in regard to our matter. To participate actively, even only externally, in a non-Catholic religious ceremony is  a formal communication. Therefore, communication and participation are used interchangeably in this study. [...]

[36] Per accidens intention and moral circumstances can become the primary sources of the morality of an human act.[3] When an act is indifferent morally from both its object and its circumstances, the only source of the morality of that act will be the intention for which it is done. For a person in every human act must act with some intention, which must be either morally good or morally bad. An act, which is morally indifferent by reason of its object, can also become good or bad by reason of one or more of the moral circumstances. In that case the circumstances assume the character of moral objects, and become accidentally the primary sources of the goodness or badness of the individual act. Thus, although the playing of an organ is morally indifferent in itself, when it is done as a part of a non-Catholic religious service, it becomes bad by reason of the circumstances making it an active participation in the non-Catholic religious service. [...]

[51] There is clearly a formal co-operation when there is question of a participation in what is essential in the service, as to receive the eucharist of heretics. An active participation in what is accidental in such worship, as singing, even though the hymns be orthodox in their content, or playing the organ in a religious service, is also a formal co-operation.[54] Such activity implies an approval of the cult, for it is intended to add beauty, attractiveness, and appeal to the service; this implication is inseparable from any subjective attitude of the one actively participating in accidentals. In other words, all accidental activity of a religious nature is as wrong, by reason of the circumstances, as that which is essentially a part of the service. Whatever activity in a non-Catholic service has a specifically religious character, whether by its nature, or by reason of the circumstances, is intrinsically wrong, as a profession of the belief of a false sect.[55] Since such activity in the exercise of idolatrous or false worship is intrinsically wrong, it cannot be reduced to merely material co-operation.[56] An objection cannot be made on the score that the sin of irreligion on the part of the non-Catholic is only material. Even if that is true, co-operation in it in a formal way is not licit. For one is never allowed to co-operate formally in something which is intrinsically wrong objectively. Although the other person may not be subjectively guilty of sin, the formal co-operator incurs the guilt of the virtues violated, for he does something he knows to be intrinsically wrong. [...]

[72] B. Singing or Playing Musical Instruments

Singing or playing musical instruments in non-Catholic religious services is an active participation, and, therefore, a formal communication. Concerning this point La Croix says that it is not licit to sing psalms together with non-Catholics in their churches or meetings, nor is it licit to play the organ or other musical instruments in their temples, because such things seem to be a public approbation of, or a scandalous communication in, sacred things.[53] The author of the Appendix to the article Fides in the Bibliotheca of Ferraris says that they ratify a false rite and cult, who play the organ or exercise the musical art in another way in churches of schismatics and heretics.[54] Kenrick holds that in this country those who sing hymns or play the organ in the churches of heretics become participants in the cult, and, therefore, betray their faith in some way.[55] [73] Konings states that to perform the office of organist, even only one or the other time, in the churches of heretics in their religious gatherings would be illicit, for it involves a communication in their religious rites or a formal co-operation.[56] Noldin-Schmitt,[57] Marc-Gestermann,[58] Prümmer,[59] Merkelbach,[60] and Aertnys-Damen[61] agree that singing or playing the organ in religious services is wrong, because each involves a participation in the cult. Noldin-Schmitt expressly call these actions formal communications in the worship.[62] Wouters makes the same judgment about playing the organ, but does not mention singing.[63] Lehmkuhl[64] and Augustine[65] call singing and playing the organ formal co-operations. Sabetti-Barrett consider singing in a non-Catholic religious service as an active part in the cult, and, therefore, intrinsically wrong.[66] In 1889 the Sacred Congregation for the Propagation of the Faith stated, with the approbation of Pope Leo XIII, that it is illicit to play the organ in the churches of heretics when they are exercising false cult there; the seriousness of this matter is made clear when it is remembered that this was a reply to a petition for permission to play the organ in Protestant churches on feast days so that the organist could provide for himself.[67]

Davis allows a Catholic organist to continue in his position in a non-Catholic church so long as he is in grave necessity, provided there is no serious scandal.[68] This opinion indicates that he looks upon this action as a form of proximate material co-operation. Vermeersch expressly states that he considers organ playing as a proximate [p. 74] material co-operation.[69] These opinions are too mild. In licit material co-operation there is required an action which is at least indifferent. Playing the organ in a non-Catholic service adds beauty, solemnity, and appeal to the worship, and as such is inseparable from the religious rite. Therefore in that circumstance it is intrinsically bad, and is a formal co-operation. Because of the strength of the intrinsic arguments for this opinion, and of the great weight of extrinsic authority favoring it, the view of Davis and Vermeersch is somewhat singular and exceptional, to say the least.

Sabetti-Barrett cite, without approval, an opinion that a Catholic may sing in non-Catholic services in a very rare case, when the following conditions are verified: (1) there is nothing contrary to the faith in the hymns; (2) there is no scandal or danger of perversion; (3) there is a most grave necessity. The reason given is that in these circumstances the malice seems to be, not on the part of the action, but on the part of other persons, and hence the co-operation is only material, and can be permitted for a just cause. On the other hand, Sabetti-Barrett believe that singing must be considered as an active part in non-Catholic worship, and intrinsically wrong. Hence it involves a formal co-operation, and the intention, or the grave necessity, of the singer cannot change the nature of the act placed in such circumstances.[70] It is difficult to see how singing in the religious services of non-Catholics can be viewed in any other way.

Regarding the singing in non-Catholic services, it makes no difference whether the hymns are orthodox or not.[71] Even if they are orthodox, they are used as a part of non-Catholic worship. Non-Catholic worship, even when it contains nothing false, is conducted in defiance of the Catholic Church, the only organization authorized by God to establish public worship. Vermeersch says that for Catholics to sing the Te Deum together with non-Catholics in a non-Catholic church as an expression of common joy, even when it has a religious signification, is not intrinsically wrong, although Catholics should not do it.[72]

[p. 75] It seems, however, that an action of this kind always has a religious signification, and hence it implies an approval of non-Catholic worship, and is an expression of religious indifference. It seems, therefore, to be wrong. The Holy See has allowed Catholic civil officials to assist only passively at non-Catholic religious celebrations commanded by the state at which the doxology was sung.[73] The mind of the Church is that Catholics have their religious celebrations separately in their own churches.[74]

Playing the organ, or other musical instruments in the course of a non-Catholic religious service, but not as a part, or as an ornament of it, will not constitute a religious participation, for example, to do so in honor of a non-Catholic king who is present.[75] Similarly, it contains no religious communication to play the organ or other musical instruments, or to sing hymns which are orthodox, for profane purposes in non-Catholic churches outside all occasion of cult.[76] The use of the church, however, brings in some co-operation, and there must be a proportionate reason present to justify such activity. For a Catholic to sing hymns containing errors in faith, even outside the occasion of a religious function, is a formal religious communication, as an external expression of wrong doctrine. This could apply to some negro spirituals. On the part of a Catholic organist accompanying such hymns there is a formal co-operation, because in the circumstance the music makes the external expression of wrong doctrine more appealing.

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Footnotes:

16. Op. cit., [Vermeersch, Theologiae Moralis Principia, Responsa, Concilia] Tom. II, n. 50, p. 41; n. 8, p. 124. Cf. Davis, Moral and Pastoral Theology, Vol. I, p. 286.

17. Noldin-Schmitt, op. cit., [Summa Theologiae Moralis] Tom. II, n. 39, 4, c, p. 40; Aertnys-Damen, Theologia Moralis, Tom. I, n. 314, II, Qu. 4, p. 236; Prümmer, Manuale Theologiae Moralis, Tom. I, n. 526, d), p. 372; DeMeester, op. cit., n. 1253, note 4, p. 154; Kenrick, Theologia Moralis, Tom. II, Tract. XIII, n. 37, p. 48; Konings, Theologia Moralis S. Alphonsi in Compendium Redacta, Vol. I, n. 313, 1, p. 142.

18. Col. S.C.P.F., Vol. II, n. 1713, p. 240.

19. Loc. cit., p. 41.

3. Aertnys-Damen, op. cit., Tom. I, n. 54, p. 50. Cf. I-II, q. 18, a. 9 and a. 11.

54. Cf. Augustine, A Commentary on Canon Law, Vol. VI, p. 197.

55. De Meester, op. cit., [Iuris Canonici et Iuris Canonica-civilis Compendium] Lib. III, Pars I, n. 1252, 2, pp. 153–154.

56. Konings, op. cit., Vol. I, n. 313, 1), p. 142. Cf. Genicot-Salsmans, Institutiones Theologiae Moralis, Tom. I, n. 198, p. 149.

53. Theologia Moralis, Tom. I, Lib. II, Tract. I, Cap. III, n. 68, p. 170.

54. Prompta Bibliotheca, art. Fides, Appendix, n. 57, Tom. III, col. 1137.

55. Op. cit., Tom. II, Tract. XIII, n. 37, p. 48.

56. Op. cit., Vol. I, n. 313, (1), p. 142.

57. Op. cit., Tom. II, n. 39, 4, c, p. 40.

58. Op. cit., Tom. I, n. 449, 6, p. 288.

59. Op. cit., Tom. I, n. 526, d, p. 372.

60. Op. cit., Tom. I, n. 758, (3), p. 586.

61. Op. cit., Tom. I, n. 314, I, Quaer. 4, p. 236.

62. Op. cit., Tom. II, n. 38, 2, p. 38.

63. Op. cit., Tom. I, n. 557, 5, p. 391.

64. Op. cit., Vol. I, n. 813, p. 450.

65. Op. cit., Vol. VI, p. 197.

66. Op. cit., n. 154, 10, pp. 159–160.

67. Epistola S. C. de Prop. Fide, July 8, 1889, Coll. S.C.P.F., Vol. II, n. 1713, p. 240.

68. Op. cit., Vol. I, p. 286.

69. Op. cit., Tom. II, n. 147, 8, p. 124.

70. Op. cit., n. 154, 10, pp. 159–160.

71. Prümmer, loc. cit.

72. Loc. cit., n. 147, 9, pp. 124–125.

73. Instructio S. C. S. Officii, May 12, 1841, Coll. S.C.P.F., Vol. I, n. 921, p. 519.

74. Cf. Littera Encyclica S. C. de Prop. Fide, April 25, 1902, Coll. S.C.P.F., Vol. II, n. 2136, p. 425.

75. Lehmkuhl, op. cit., Vol. I, n. 813, p. 450; Merkelbach, op. cit., Tom. I, n. 758, (3), note 2, p. 586.

76. Konings, op. cit., Vol. I, n. 313, (1), p. 142.

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Source: John R. Bancroft, "Communication in Religious Worship with Non-Catholics," PhD diss., (Washington, DC: Catholic University of America Press, 1943), 3–4, 36, 51, 72–75.

Dom Augustine on Playing Organ in Non-Catholic Services (1921)

 [197] Difficulties may arise concerning coöperation [sic] in the divine services of Catholics who are employed by non-Catholics as singers or organists. Although we could find no specific decision with regard to Catholic singers at non-Catholic services, it is evident that the Church cannot tolerate such a formal coöperation, for to that it would certainly amount. Besides, if it is forbidden for a Catholic to play the organ at non-Catholic services—which has been formally decided[34]—it naturally follows that Catholics may not sing at such functions. The Church has been more lenient lately with regard to admitting non-Catholics as singers and organists at Catholic services. Thus, in 1889, the Holy Office wished the abuse to be eliminated as soon as possible, in 1906 it made a concession for Bulgaria, in favor of sisterhoods whose non-Catholic pupils were admitted to sing in their chapels.[35]

The present canon [c. 1258] only forbids active assistance at, or participation in, the religious services of non-Catholics. 

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Footnotes:

34. S. C. P. F., July 8, 1889 (n. 1713): "Cum ibi falsum cultum exercent." Exception might be made for school exercises or purely civil celebrations held in non-Catholic churches, provided they have no religious feature attached; for in that case there would be no "exercise of false worship."

35. S. O., May 1, 1889; Jan. 24, 1906 (Coll. P. F., n. 1703, 2227).

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Source: P. Charles Augustine, A Commentary on the New Code of Canon Law (St. Louis, MO: B. Herder Book Co., 1921), 6:197.

Henry Davis on Organ Playing in Non-Catholic Services (1943)

 [286] Organ Playing

It is wrong to play the organ in a non-Catholic church as a help to the religious service (S.O., Jan. 19, 1889), or to be a member of the choir during services, but it is not wrong, scandal apart, to take part in musical festivals in such places. A Catholic organist might continue in his post so long as he was in grave necessity, apart from serious scandal.

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Source: Henry Davis, Moral and Pastoral Theology (New York: Sheed and Ward, 1943), 1:286.

Francis J. Connell on Communication with Non-Catholics in Sacred Rites (excerpt) (1944)

 [183] The application of these principles to problems which arise frequently in our land should be familiar to Catholics, particularly to the clergy. In the first place, there is the case of the Catholic who has the chance to earn a few sorely needed dollars by playing the organ or singing in the Protestant church. He is sufficiently grounded in the faith to be safe from the danger of perversion; he will attend Mass faithfully every Sunday before fulfilling his function at the non-Catholic service. Nevertheless, the answer must be an absolute: Non Licet. To sing or to play the organ for a non-Catholic service must be regarded as an active participation in the act of worship, which can never be justified. Such is the practically unanimous teaching of Catholic theologians,[16] corroborated by a decision of the Holy See to the effect that a Catholic might not play the organ at non-Catholic services, even though he needed the money as a means of livelihood.[17] The same principle applies to singing in the choir of a non-Catholic church.

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Footnotes:

16. Cf., for example, Noldin-Schmitt, S.J., Summa Theologiae Moralis (Innsbruck, 1939), II, n. 39; Pruemmer, D., O.P., Manuale Theologia Moralis, (Freiburg Brisg., 1935), I, n. 526; Aertnys-Damen, C.SS.R., Theologia Moralis (Turin, 1939), I, n. 314.

17. S.C. de Prop. Fid., July 8, 1889; Coll. S.C.P.F., n. 1713.

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Source: Francis J. Connell, "Communication with Non-Catholics in Sacred Rites," The American Ecclesiastical Review 140, no. 3 (Sept. 1944): 183.

Communicatio in sacris

Francis J. Connell on Co-Operation of Catholics in Non-Catholic Religious Activities (excerpt) (1956)

[2] However, the chief problems connected with the association of Catholics with persons of other religions center about religious communication and co-operation. These two terms are not synonymous, [3] as used in theology. Communication in sacris signifies participation in public (official) non-Catholic religious rites. This is active when it involves a real participation in the functions, such as the reception of the sacraments, singing or organ-playing, joining in the prayers, etc. [emphasis mine] It is passive when it consists of one's mere presence at the service without any active participation. The rules for religious communication are thus expressed in the Code of Canon Law:

1. It is never lawful for the faithful to assist actively in any way or to take part in the religious rites of non-Catholics.

2. Passive, or merely material presence can be tolerated, by reason of civil duty or honor, for a grave reason, to be approved by the Bishop in case of doubt, at the funerals, marriages and similar solemnities of non-Catholics, provided there is no danger of perversion and scandal.[6]

However, the purpose of the series of articles now beginning is to consider problems of co-operation, rather than communication, on the part of Catholics in the religious activities of non-Catholics. Co-operation has a wider scope than communication. There are many ways of co-operation in religious matters without being present at religious functions. Decisions of the Holy See have given directions regarding many of the problems of co-operation in non-Catholic religious activities; but many others are left to the judgment of theologians and canonists. In the United States such problems are numerous at the present day; hence, it is my purpose to discuss a number of such problems, in the hope that this discussion may be helpful to our priests, so often confronted with questions of this nature. I shall be grateful if my brother-priests who read these articles and have encountered some unusual cases pertinent to this type of co-operation will send them to me for inclusion in this series.

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Footnotes:

6. Can. 1258.

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Source: Francis J. Connell, Co-Operation of Catholics in Non-Catholic Religious Activities (Washington DC: Catholic University of America Press, 1956), 2–3.

This booklet is reprinted from The American Ecclesiastical Review 134 (1956).

Communicatio in sacris

How, When, and What to Play: A Guide for Catholic Organists (1934)

[543] INTRODUCTION

A musician called to offer the fruits of his talents to the service of God, either as a composer, as a choirmaster, or as an organist, in a Catholic Church should conform to the regulations established by the Catholic Church. Such rules, prescriptions, or regulations, are definite and precise.

In the old Law (Deut. XXVIII, 15) is the command of God saying: ". . . .if thou will not hear the voice of the Lord, thy God, to keep and to do all His commandments and ceremonies, which I command thee this day, all these curses shall come upon thee. Cursed shalt thou be in the city, cursed in the field. Cursed shall be thy barn, and cursed thy stores, etc."

And down, in more recent ages, we find Pius V, who orders us: ". . . .decantetur aut recitetur Missa juxta ritum, modum et norman quae per Missale traditur" ("The Mass shall be sung or said according to the rite, the way and the rule laid down in the Missal").

There are many other regulations, or ecclesiastical orders, to prove that no one has any right to presume the possibility of disregarding, with impunity, any regulation of which Our Mother the Church is a very jealous custodian. As soon as we know and feel truly convinced that the Church is the House of God, and we go there ONLY to pray and to worship our Creator and our Redeemer, we easily come to the natural conclusion that everything should be in accordance with the first aim and intention.

In the Introduction to the Motu Proprio, we read: "Nothing therefore ought to occur in tne Temple, which disturbs, or even merely diminishes, the piety and devotion of the Faithful. . . .and, above all, nothing which offends against the decorum and sanctity of the sacred offices, and which appears unworthy of the House of prayer and the Majesty of God."

Consequently all the ceremonies and the singing and playing is to be done in the way that the Church prescribes, abhorring everything that would be even a smallest profanation of that very House of God.

The Duties of The Organist At A Low Mass

In almost all the Catholic Churches in this Country, the organist is also the Choirmaster (or director of the Choir); therefore what is said here of the one, is understood also for the other. A person who occupies a place of responsibility in society must know the duties of his state.

A priest, a doctor, a lawyer, a justice or any magistrate etc. has to know the duties of his particular position. "Whoever asserts that the accepted and approved Rites of the Catholic Church can be ignored or omitted at pleasure, or changed by any Pastor of the Church, let him be an anathema." (Councel [sic] of Trent, 7th S. Can. 13). Consequently, as the Catholic organist occupies a very important place in the service of the House of God he has a duty to learn and to know and to practice [emphasis original] what concerns him, according to his position. He must learn "how to appreciate and love our holy Liturgy". The organist, besides knowing HOW to play well his instrument, must also know especially WHEN to play it; and here the writer will try to help him, by consulting together the three most important official Sources of the Latin Liturgy, namely the Coeremoniale Episcoporum (Ceremonial of the Bishops), the Council of Trent, and the precious Motu proprio of Pius X. It would be well that every Catholic organist and choirmaster should have and peruse the above mentioned Motu proprio, to which that holy Pope commanded that "the force of Law be given", and to the same He imposed a "scrupulous observance on all". And now, let us see at last when the organ may be played at a low Mass.

We may say that in general, it is allowed, or optional, to play the organ at every extraliturgical [sic] service, an organist may start to play a few minutes before the Celebrant goes [544] to the altar for a low Mass*; on all Sundays and Festivals on which the people abstain from servile work; except the Sundays of Advent and Lent; among these are not included the Sundays of Advent and Lent, except the Sunday Gaudette [sic] and Laetare, i.e. the 3rd Sunday of Advent and the 4th of Lent". We may add that the organ, without singing, may play on the Feasts and Ferias in Advent and Lent which are celebrated solemnly by the Church: it is also understood that the organ (without singing) is not allowed in the Masses of the Dead. We said it is optional to play the organ during all the time of a low Mass, loud or soft; in fact if the Ceremonial of the Bishops says that "ad elevationem Sanctissimi Sacramenti pulsatur organum graviori et dulciori sono, during the elevation the organ plays in a grave and sweet way" (XXVIII, 9), it is clear enough that it can play also during the rest of the time of the Mass; but an organist who understands (as he ought to) the various parts of Holy Mass, knows HOW and WHEN to play loud, or soft, or moderately; and, to give an idea, he can play a little louder before the Mass, during the reading of the Gospel, and after the Mass, continuing (if he likes) until a few minutes after the Celebrant has gone to the Sacristy. But let me end this Chapter with the quotation of some good words of Fr. J. Kelly: "As people attend Mass to praise God in supreme act of worship, the position of the organist being a sacred one he should contribute to this praise by such music as will assist the people in their devotions; the possession of technical ability does not imply the possession of skill in playing a Catholic liturgical service." And much more forcible are these words of the Caerem. Ep.: "Cavendum est ne sonus organi sit lascivus aut impurus" (XXVIII, 11), ("Endeavor that the playing of the organ be not lascivious or obscene".) Consequently not all the piano or concert-music is good for the organ, in Church services.

As far as here, the above rules concern only low Mass, when there is no singing at all. Now let us see what the organist (or choirmaster) has to know and to do at the low Mass, when there is singing.

(To be continued.)

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Footnotes:

* This can be done "in omnibus Dominicis et omnibus festis per annum occurrentibus, in quibus populi a servilibus operibus abstinere solent. Inter eas non connumeratur Dominicae Adventus et Quadragesimae except a Dominica tertia Adventus quae dicitur Gaudete in Domino et quarta Quadragesimae, quae dicitur Laetare, Jerusalem, et nisi celebratur pro Defunctis" (Caerem. Episc. XXVIII. 1-2).

Source: Giuseppe Villani, "'How, When and What to Play': A Guide for Catholic Organists," The Caecilia 60, no. 11 (Dec. 1934): 543–544.

Organ Music and Gregorian Chant (1956)

[3] The problem of the relationship between organ music and liturgical chant is not a new one. It has presented itself since the earliest days when, through a unique privilege, the organ became an instrument of the Church and was given the role of functioning with the choir, bringing to the service of the divine cult the multitude of its voices and the variety of its tonal resources.

All musicians whose duties place them at an organ console have felt to a greater or lesser degree the grandeur and nobility of the role given to them in the course of the liturgical Offices, and they have made some very fine declarations of principle in this regard. In spite of the diversity of their temperaments, their musical educations and their esthetic tendencies, they all agree in declaring that the church organist should not play "during the Office, but play the Office itself" (Maurice Emmanuel), and that he should "become as closely united with the Office as possible by drawing for inspiration on pieces of plain-chant" (Marcel Dupres [sic]).

Regarding these principles, then, there are neither difficulties nor disagreements; we have a fine and unanimous viewpoint. When it comes to the practical working-out, however, it is quite another matter. Problems have a way of multiplying, and what a wide diversity there is in the manner of solving them! In itself this diversity is not wrong, but we must maintain that the whim and caprice of an individual cannot be suitable to the norm of a religious Office, the prime quality of which must be unity. No doubt these are complicated matters, and are very difficult to describe with exactitude. Yet they are all too real. Perhaps an analogy will help us to see this more clearly.

[4] Go to Chartres and stand before the western facade. The "new" tower will not shock you next to the "irreproachable spire" of the "old" tower. You will, moreover, appreciate its beauty without difficulty, because it will seem to you to be the logical development of the romanesque tower on which it is erected.

Then go into the Cathedral up to the vault of the choir and look about you. Immediately something is upset within you. The "embellishments" of the canons of the eighteenth century, and in particular the group of the Assumption of Bridan seem to be out-of-place in such a place. They do not match the style, proportions or grace of the incomparable sanctuary.

The organist is faced with problems similar to these. He must blend into this unified ensemble in such a way that his listeners, far from being caused to resent him, will, on the contrary, silently be grateful for his having been able to enhance the prayers and chants of the whole congregation.

To get a complete picture of the problem, we would be obliged to go back to the very origins of organ music. Then, following the passing of time, we should study the different solutions which Church organists have applied to the problem at hand. We would be obliged, in short, to undertake a history of organ music in its liturgical roles. This would be a wonderful and very useful work, but of vast proportions which would easily fill a huge volume. In these few pages we shall content ourselves with taking a characteristic example which will permit us to show the essential error to avoid, and in the same process to uncover the essential elements of a proper and satisfying solution.

In 1685 at Paris, Nicholas Gigault, organist at Holy Spirit and of the churches of Saint-Nicholas and Saint-Martin-des-Champs, published a Livre de Musique pour l'orgue which contained about 180 pieces, all intended for [5] service playing, grouped according to the eight church tones and written to a great extent on plain-chant melodies.

In the opening remarks to his readers, Gigault shows a constant care to conform to the needs and demands of divine worship. Not only does he write somewhat short pieces in order not to cause delays in the service, but he even takes care to plan for cuts, if they should be necessary. He goes into certain details of the intonations of the different tones and remarks that he has tried to conform to plain-chant, and particularly to the finals in order to give the intonations to the choir more clearly. Finally, the book is dedicated "to the Blessed Virgin". In this noble dedication is said, among other things, that the Magnificat "is the most beautiful of all the canticles . . . on which our art will be applied eternally without even the most beautiful sounds, or all the harmony of music being able to equal the least of its divine expressions". In closing, our organist asks the Blessed Virgin "to grant that his chants may please the heart even more than the ear, to raise the soul of those who hear them to You and to Your Son, and to give them an ardent desire to rise to Heaven to hear that ineffable Music which must be our eternal Joy".

Here we have a grouping of completely favorable dispositions which leads us to see Nicholas Gigault as a model liturgical organist. Of the 214 pages of his Organ Book, however, nothing has survived the wear of time. None of the pieces designed with such care could be used for a service. In spite of our good will, we are forced to admit that we rarely see such a contrast between the excellence of principles and the poverty of the result.

What could possibly be the cause of such misfortune? What is the basic error which would explain all the others? This basic lack seems to us to have been certainly not theoretical, but a practical understanding of the primacy and excellence of Gregorian chant, "rule and supreme model of all sacred music".

[6] Instead of listening obediently to the liturgical melody and let it create in him the sounds and rhythms which result naturally from its sonorous progression, he tried on the contrary, to impose on it from without a harmonic and rhythmic treatment which is foreign to its very structure. The mode is immediately converted through the alteration of the leading tones, to the modern major or its relative minor. The melody, deprived of its proper life, is cut up in pieces and presented in long note-values. These fragments are to serve in turn as themes of works of which the developments have no inner relationship with the mode and rhythm of the melody which has been so disfigured. When the organist is a mastery of polyphonic composition and has, moreover, a deeply religious soul, he can avoid the worst consequences, and can even write pieces which, in spite of certain concessions to the tastes of the day, remain true models of liturgical music. But when the organist, filled with theories learned in school, turns to dressing the chant in the present-day musical fashions, ornamenting it with "prunings and graftings" and setting it to "new movements", nothing remains of that perfection glimpsed in the heavens of high principle. Between liturgical chant and the organ-playing a chasm opens up, a contrast is established which is all the more to be deplored because it comes in the Liturgy, where all the elements which enter into the composition of a service should blend in a single goal and unite in a common adoration.

We could stop here and say that these criticisms hold true only for classical organists who knew Gregorian chant only in its decadent form, whereas we, better situated than our ancestors, now possess plain-chant restored to its proper melody and rhythm. It is indeed true that the restoration of Gregorian chant has caused a favorable reaction among organists, and that for the last fifty years attempts have been more and more numerous toward achievement of an organ music more and more respectful of the character and grace of the ancient modes. Nevertheless, without taking away anything from the generosity of motives and the quality of the efforts, we are obliged to recognize the fact that we have not yet succeeded in creating a truly "liturgical" [7] style of music which would adapt itself effortlessly to the letter and spirit of Gregorian chant.

We should add, too, that at the point of development to which we are led by the present evolution of harmony, the problem is becoming more and more difficult to solve, as the organists are finding themselves torn between their musical training, which has legitimately advanced with their times, and the demands of the liturgical service, in which Gregorian chant remains the determining element.

Must we, then, declare that the problem is insoluble? Must we admit that we have been passed by in the inevitable progress of musical development? We do not think so, and we are even naive enough to believe that at the cost of some sacrifice . . . no doubt difficult to make . . . a harmonious solution can be arrived at.

One of the greatest musicians of our own day will help us to discover the essential points.

In 1929 the magazine Musique made a survey among composers on the evolution of music and its most recent tendencies. Manuel de Falla gave a remarkable answer, some aspects of which seem very fitting to note at this time.

To the question: "What are your present tendencies?" Falla answered: "Toward an art as strong as it is simple, and in which egotism and vanity would be absent. But what a difficult goal to reach!" If such a directive seems fitting for the demands of the art considered in itself, how much more strongly should it be proposed for the musicians who have the honor and the responsibility to write works which are beautiful, not only from the purely musical point of view, but to a degree which would make them suitable to be introduced in the body of a liturgical service! This answer, in fact, seems to us to go to the root of the question. First of all light and order have to be established in ones [sic] [8] inner being. Before going into the purely technical problems, it is necessary to resolve a basic difficult of spiritual nature. All is pointless if the soul is not first freed of itself and ready to let itself be drawn and influenced by "the pure musical substance" of Gregorian melody, separated from any arbitrary circumstance or outer superposition.

To devote oneself in this way to the discipline of plain-chant in no way implies a servile imitation, but rather a reasonable exploitation of its inexhaustible resources, creating "a music in which the eternal laws of rhythm and tonality, — intimately linked, — may be conscientiously observed."

Such a style thus presupposes:

1) Deliberate exclusion of "capricious dogmas which often become in art the worst enemies of the true and intangible dogmas" (merely think of the tyranny of C major, the down-beat, the square measure, the forbidden intervals, etc.).

2) A decided preference for free and supple rhythms, for innumerable combinations, based nevertheless on a basic value, maintained as a principle of order and unity.

3) And for a polyphony which will be both strict and bold, in which the various parts pursue their courses with a logic rigorous to the degree of its leading to a firmly established close . . . for a polyphony conceived as the blossoming of a harmony based on the natural resonance of the Gregorian modes.

What should be avoided above all are these attempted compromises between ancient modality and modern harmonic systems. Neither chromaticism nor atonality can blend with it. It is, therefore, salutory that organists are learning more and more to give up these impossible matings in preference for the reasonable and conscientious exploration of the "sonorous spaces" created by the simple flow of a plainsong melody. No doubt the Gregorian modes are diatonic in their [9] essence, but freed from the constraints of classical tonality, they imply in their resonance a whole train of harmonic groupings, bold and new. It is for each composer, according to the quality of his "antennas", to grasp their many vibrations.

We can see now in what sense we must talk of a return to the ancient melody of the Church. There can be no question of a regression, — impossible, in fact, — to a dull and soulless pastiche "of a form of art perfect of its type" (Dom Mocquereau). Not so many exercises on the chant; let there be instead a ceasely [sic] renewed "invention", more sure and certain in its discoveries to the extent that it never ceases to seek the elements of its inspiration in the same basic source. The [sic] presupposes, in fact, that Gregorian chant is the very basis of any musical training. It is, moreover, no longer a question of devoting only a few pages to the study of the ancient modes for those students who have a penchant for "archaicism" or "mysticism", [sic] On the contrary, it is time to give them first rank in the studies of counterpoint and harmony, which would then become complete treatises of modal polyphony.

Obviously we must add another condition, also very essential: talent, or even genius. God has not, however, ever refused this "gift" in the course of the long history of sacred music. Our epoque [sic] does not lack in fine talents, artists avid in serving and enriching divine worship. May they in this pathway discover, for the glory of God and our joy, ancient and new splendors.

Perhaps it is not amiss to state that these few reflections contain no hidden implications. They are intended simply as considerations in itself and for itself of a problem which is commanding more and more attention from all those who have at heart the dignity and perfection of the divine service.

---

Source: Dom Antoine Bonnet, "Organ Music and Gregorian Chant," The Gregorian Review 3, no. 2 (March-April 1956): 3–9.

Dom Antoine Bonnet, The Motu Proprio and Organ Music (1954)

The French Revue of the Association des Amis de l'Orgue has recently published a very instructive inquiry on the liturgical role of the organist (cf. L'Orgue, quarterly review, No. 61 and following). One of our better organists, having been questioned by M. Pierre Denis on the conception he held regarding the organ in the Church, answered with his usual frankness and did not hesitate to take, when faced with the problem of the church organ and its relationship with the Liturgy, a very firm position. (cf. L'Orgue, No. 58-59, p. 5-7) "The organ," says he, "will always have a tendency to encumber the liturgy, and when a high mass is sung, it should do nothing more than extend the plainchant with improvisations." Or again, "Let us not forget that the mass is before all else a participation of the congregation in prayer. The organ can do nothing more than distract them to a certain extent in making its own voice heard." (This in regard to eleven o'clock masses).

That an organist as well armed, technically speaking, as Gaston Litaize should speak with this clearness is very significant to start with. What is not less revealing, however, is the number of reactions which this declaration of principles has provoked. Let us admit that certain practical solutions proposed by the organist of St. Francois Xavier church can be open to discussion, such as that, for example, of the concert placed on Sunday between two masses "when the organist could dispense his virtuosity at leisure . . . " Finally, "to clearly forbid the principle itself of eleven o'clock [32] masses" is to affirm a truth which is basically incontestable, but at the same time to disrupt without discretion established habits and provoke inevitable backwaters. Thus it is that in the various answers given to date to the questions raised by the Bulletin des Amis de l'Orgue there is a sort of astonishment manifested, and sometimes even emotion. In any case, no other organist has dared to compromise himself on this point and renounce with such cheerfulness the romantic conceptions of the organ in church. Under diverse forms and proposing accommodations more or less varied in nature, all of them expect to keep the positions gained and to defend the rights of the king of instruments which are supposedly threatened. There is a touching attachment here, to a great extent explicable, considering how full of temptations and dangers the role demanded of the church organist is.

Just think, in fact, of the more or less conscious reactions which take hold of the organist when he seats himself at the console of his organ. From the height of the organ-loft he dominates the assembly of the faithful, and he knows that not only will he be heard by this multitude, but that he alone will have the duty of discoursing with it. Now for that he has in his power an instrument unique in its type which is in itself a universe of sound, endowed with numerous voices, various levels, and countless combinations, running from the most tenuous softness to sovereign power. Why should we be surprised if sometimes the organist loses his sense of the proper limits and is tempted to obey the demon inside him which whispers, "If you bow before me, all this is yours"? We cannot, however, escape the trend of events. It is a fact that in the course of history the organ has owed its development to the decadence of the Liturgy and the steady loss of its primitive traditions. For good logic on authentic restoration of the liturgical Regulations entails a more and more effective participation of all the faithful present in the acts of the Cult, and by way of consequence, a re-casting of the role the organ is called on to fill in the course of the ceremonies.

Is all this really so new, though? To appease our uneasiness and dissipate our doubts, is it not sufficient to read [33] over with attention the Motu Proprio of Blessed Pope Pius X? This document has existed for fifty years, and yet, far from having aged, it appears more up-to-date and fitting than ever in its decisions. The principles which the Holy Father formulates in it are precepts in edict "the fullness of Apostolic Power" and which as such have the force of law. Moreover, however, based on the reality of affairs itself and a profound experience in the exigencies of the Divine Cult, they answer our questions fully and show us with directness the road to follow.

The organ, it can be objected, occupies very little space in this "Code of Law of Sacred Music." This is true, but from this laconicism itself there arises for us an eloquent teaching on the exact place which the Church feels it should give the organ in the course of the Offices. In the Motu Proprio, in fact, the hierarchy among the diverse types of Sacred Music is admirably outlined: 1. Primacy and excellence of Gregorian Chant which is the chant proper to the Roman Church, and in which, as in a supreme model, are found the essential qualities of Sacred Music. — 2. Praise is given to Classic Polyphony and to more recent vocal works, provided that, through their qualities, they are brought closer in style to Gregorian Chant. — 3. Finally, but only in the sixth chapter, the organ is mentioned while emphasizing that the proper music of the Church being purely vocal, it is only in the manner of a permission that music with organ accompaniment can be performed, without, however, covering up the singing, preceding it with preludes or interrupting it with disproportionate interludes.

No doubt these are rather severe conditions, but are they not, when we really think about them, sound wisdom and judgment? The organist who accepts them with an open heart cannot but recognize their sound basis and accept, without sterile regrets, the place which is assigned to him in the whole scheme according to just proportions. And let it be said in passing, how can we explain after such clear directives the habits which are still spread throughout too many parishes, as, for example, the custom of putting in a piece of [34] bravura at the offertory which has no relationship at all with the act which is being accomplished at the altar, and which, under the pretext of "enhancing the ceremony" often obliges the celebrant to wait; or what is more, that of introducing during the Magnificat verses of a quality and brilliance which could still excite the spirit of a Huysmans? (Look over the description of Vespers at St. Sulpice in En Route.)

While the Motu Proprio gives us first of all a lesson in modesty, it does not mean, for all that, to paralyse [sic] the organist in the practice of his art, but, rather, encourage himself to surpass himself, to give up his personal views and renounce facile effects in order to make his playing conform to all the qualities which true sacred music should possess, and find in the difficulties of the service he is asked to give the principle of continually new progress. Erik Satie, speaking one day of "the spirit of music," asserted that "the practice of an art leads us to live in the most absolute renouncement." (P. D. Templier, Erik Satie, 1932, p. 61). Every "servant of music" has this experience, and it is certain that the "abnegation, the sacrifice of oneself, courage and patience" are indispensable virtues to the organist who is conscious of the role which the Church has confided to him in the course of the liturgical Offices. The goal to be attained is so noble that it justifies such requirements, and the organist can believe himself to be lessened in the importance if at the cost of this loyally observed discipline he lifts himself little by little up to that sanctity, that goodness of forms and that universality which, uniting him to the qualities of the liturgy itself, will leave their imprint on his art and render him capable of realizing in his way the very purpose of the whole Cult, the glory of God alone and the spiritual profit of the faithful.

One of the most disputed points of the inquiry to which we alluded at the beginning was that of improvisation. For a Gaston Litaize or an Andre Fleury the question does not seem to raise any difficulties: "Nothing can equal," declared the latter, "a plainchant mass in which the faithful perform the Gregorian melodies, the organ paraphrasing these latter [35] in a sort of direct resonance." (cf. L'Orgue, October-December 1948). This is the point of view of the organists who possess all the elements necessary to make a complete musician, but such a convergence remains exceptional, and even for the most gifted, this spontaneous musical commentary on all the pieces of an Office is a formidable test because of its frequence and its continuity. This is not to mention the immense distances which separate our musical sense from the esthetic proper to the remote composers of the Gregorian melodies. It is not without a long apprenticeship and ceaselessly renewed efforts that a musician of the twentieth century will be able to make his improvisations conform "to the rhythm and the internal structure" of Gregorian melody.

Very few organists are thus capable of improvising in a worthy manner during the liturgical offices. For all the others, the Motu Proprio furnishes the elements of a solution, if not perfect, at least satisfactory. In chapter II, in fact, the exposition of the types of Sacred Music leads us to think that there also exists for the organ a vast repertoire of "classic polyphony" which possesses, keeping all the proportions, the qualities which the Pope recognized in vocal polyphony. No doubt most of these pieces cannot be played at the moments in the Office for which they were written: Verses for the Kyrie eleison, for the Gloria in excelsis, for the Hymns and the Magnificat, etc., but the perfection, the seriousness and the gravity of their style makes them worthy to be inserted in the structure of the liturgical offices.

All of which presupposes long research and a choice which is not without difficulties. There again we find light and guidance in a capital phrase of the Motu Proprio: "A composition destined for the Church is that much more sacred and (to the extent) liturgical as by its movement, inspiration and savor, it more closely approaches Gregorian melodies; and, on the contrary, it is that much less worthy of the Temple to the extent that it diverges from this supreme model." This rule has often been remembered, but has often received a litteral [sic] and sterile interpretation. It is not sufficient that a piece be written on a plainchant theme or in one [36] of the "tones" of Gregorian chant for it to automatically take on a religious and liturgical value. It is with special design that the terms of our text have been chosen to make us understand that a servile imitation of Gregorian melody could not possibly be recommended, and that it could only be a question of coming to a more or less happy approximation of the supreme model through an ensemble of delicate and subtle qualities which alone permit us to decide the degree of relationship and correspondence between the piece being studied and liturgical chant.

The Motu Proprio gives us yet one further piece of advice on which we should insist, so well does it seem to us to answer the difficulties which press on us. In chapter VI, in fact, the Pope states clearly that not only must the organ playing contain all the qualities of true Sacred Music, but that it must be proportioned according to the proper nature of the instrument.

For twenty-five years, at least, an admirable effort has been brought to the manufacture to effect a more and more faithful restoration of the organ according to the glorious tradition which has little by little endowed this great instrument with an ensemble of qualities which confer on it a very special right to take a place in the House of God and to discourse with the choir of voices. Brought to the height of its development and enriched with recent technical perfections (adjustable combinations, etc.) such an instrument offers the organist innumerable possibilities, and this, then, is why it is more than ever opportune to call to his attention that they could in no way be exploited without a profound knowledge of the "proper nature" of the instrument and the elements of which it is composed, without an exact discernment of their extent and limit. The organ does not sound like an orchestra. The relative slowness of the opening of its pipes forbids it too rapid a movement, and certain harmonic audacities which easily get by when they are given to different instruments become unbearable on the organ when all the notes speak with the same force and are enriched by the sparkling brightness of the mixtures.

[37] We must, however, come to the end of these few reflections. They come far from exhausting the admirable concentration of the Pontifical Document. Let us hope at least that they have let us sense its permanent timeliness. What the Church expects of the organist is as though summarized in the celebrated and so often quoted proposition: I desire that my people should pray on Beauty. Servant of Music, and in that way so much more necessary for himself that his work should contribute to the beauty and dignity of the divine office, the organist should at the same time be a man of prayer,—for in order to lead others to prayer, one must first pray oneself—. Let him know how to give his art and his prayer to the texts and chants which fill the liturgical Offices, and he will discover the true means of touching souls and aiding them to raise their prayers to God, Principle and End of all Harmony and of all Perfection.

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Source: Dom Antoine Bonnet, "The Motu Proprio and Organ Music," The Gregorian Review 1, no. 3 (May-June 1954): 31–37.

Repost: Communicatio in Sacris

[212] Qu. A Catholic young lady is employed by a concert bureau. Most of the engagements are for music halls or theatres [sic], but the bureau has accepted some engagements for Chautauqua [see https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chautauqua] work during the coming summer. The young lady is booked for parts in a quartette, who are to sing at camp meetings. The program on some occasions is so arranged that the quartette will sing during the services. This lady is the only support of an invalid father and brothers and sisters. To give up her present work would mean hardships and privation. The young woman does not want to displease God. I would not like to advise anything that would entail suffering unless I am positively sure that such must be done. Kindly give your solution of the case.

Resp. Theologians are unanimously of the opinion that active, formal participation by Catholics in Protestant services is forbidden. On this point there is no room for discussion. Furthermore, it is positively forbidden to play the organ in a Protestant church during heretical services, even when that is the Catholic organist's means of obtaining a livelihood. For this statement we have the authority of an instruction of the S. Congregation of the Propaganda, dated 8 July, 1889 (Collectanea, n. 1854). It should, however, be noted that in the [213] decree the clause "dum ibi falsum cultum exercent" is restrictive. It would be allowed, of course, for a Catholic to practice on the organ in a Protestant church when no services are being held. Similarly, it may be urged with prudence and discretion, in particular cases, that some gatherings of non-Catholics for the sake of what they call moral culture, even when these take place regularly on Sundays, are not engaged in false religious worship in opposition to the Catholic Church. Indeed, the most severe condemnations of such gatherings is that they are not religious at all. This applies, we think, to many of the Chautauqua organizations. It applies particularly in the case propounded, when, as is evident, the young woman has no desire to do anything displeasing to God. Prudence and discretion require that Catholics be discouraged from associating themselves with any activity that may throw doubt on their loyalty to the true Church. They require also that in particular instances persons whose good faith and Catholic loyalty are beyond question should not be forbidden to carry out such a contract as is mentioned in this case.

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Source: "Communicatio in Sacris," American Ecclesiastical Review 54 (February 1916): 212–213.

Repost: Catholic Singers in Protestant Churches

[524] Qu. Now that the Review is urging forward the correct interpretation of the Pope's motu proprio on Chant and the music reform, our city pastors are threatening to get the bishops into trouble by referring the indignant lady soloists hitherto in possession of the lofty organ domain, to the episcopal parlors for adjudication of their grievances. It is needless to say that explanations are out of the question, but soothings are not, and a bishop who knows his business will not fan the flame of female resentment.

But there is a serious aspect to this question. Some of our singers who have been doing their duty, and have justly earned a salary, even as the priest himself does in the exercise of the sacred functions, are being deprived of a living by being dismissed from the Catholic choir. Some of these could readily find the needed material compensation and more in accepting positions as singers in non-Catholic, that is, Protestant or Jewish churches. In a few cases no other way of earning a decent livelihood would seem to be open to such women, who for the rest are good and believing Catholics. Is there any interpretation of the prohibition of communicatio in sacris which gives these really worthy women a chance for their living? It seems to me that Protestant religious service is in large measure nothing more than a sacred concert, and no theologian would object to our Catholic lovers of music attending sacred concerts in which Protestants take a leading part, since we live in constant intercourse with such; and Catholic charity owes them undoubtedly a certain amount of respect for holding their views on religious matters in good faith, though perhaps not in a very serious way. Are we not too severe in these matters? I felt as if it were so when not long ago a lady said to me, "Priests don't realize our position; they need not look for a living, and so it is easy for them to make laws."

Resp. The Review has had occasion to express an opinion on the above subject before the present supposed urgency arose by which ladies who have been singing professionally in Catholic choirs are thrown out of positions. The question is not whether we make hard laws, but whether the laws which God made may be explained away by our circumstances and needs. Necessity dispenses from the law, but not every inconvenience or hardship implies a necessity, and no inconvenience or hardship could sanction [525] an act of disobedience implying sin. The priests in France who are deprived of their salary and in some cases of a decent support or living might do many things unbecoming their sacred calling, but they could not lawfully go into Protestant or Jewish houses of worship and take part in the same under plea of earning a living.

For the rest, we have only to repeat here what we said in a previous number of the Review upon this subject.[1]

Whilst as Catholics we are not forbidden honorably to assist Protestants, Jews or Pagans when they stand in need of our service, nor to earn our daily bread by serving them in honest employment—the positive divine law forbids all conscious and direct participation in heretical worship. This is done by playing the organ or singing in the religious service of those who deny the revealed truth of Christ as manifested through its only legitimate channel, the Catholic Church. In case of most sects the very term "Protestant," accepted by them as their religious party-name, is an unconscious admission of their denial of the Catholic teaching as emanating from God. Individual Protestants may not realize this fact; they may be, as we say, "in good faith;" [sic] nevertheless they have attached themselves to a wrong or defective system of interpreting the truth in which God commands us to worship Him. Catholics who are supposed to know and realize the fact that they are in possession of the true faith, cannot consent under any pretext to participate in such false worship without denying implicitly the faith which they are pledged to maintain uncorrupted at the risk of their lives.

What is said here of Protestants is true of Jews and of all other sects separated from the one true Church which, like an open book, is accessible to all who will approach and examine her teaching without malice or prejudice.

What the Catholic believes on this subject to-day is precisely the same as that which the early Christians believed when they shed their blood as martyrs rather than worship in the pagan faith; or which the Jews believed before the coming of Christ, as is witnessed by Eleazar and the Maccabees, who preferred to suffer torture and death sooner than participate in a religious worship [526] which they knew to be false, although there may have been men who belonged to it in good faith.

If there could be any doubt as to the duty of Catholics in this respect, it would be dispelled by the following declaration of the sacred tribunal which acts as the ordinary legitimate interpreter of Catholic disciplinary law. (Cf. Collectan., n. 1854.)

Ex Litt. S. C. de Prop. Fide 8 Jul. 1889, (ad Archiep. Marianopolit.)
"Quidam . . . istius archi-dioecensis petierat facultatem pulsandi in diebus festis organa in templis protestantium ad victum sibi procurandum. S. Congregatio super precibus, uti supra, hoc edidit decretum Fer IV. die 19 elapsi Junii:
Illicitum esse in templis haereticorum, cum ibi falsum cultum exercent, organum pulsare. . . . Quod decretum SS. D. N. Leo XIII eadem die ratum ha buit et confirmavit."

It must not be forgotten, however, that playing or singing in churches or houses which are used for Protestant worship is not quite the same as playing or singing at Protestant worship. [N.B. This is the part of the reason that early American Catholics could share the same church building with Protestants, having Mass at one time, and the Protestant service at a different time.]

Nor is every gathering of non-Catholics for purposes of moral culture, on Sundays, a religious worship in the sense that it excludes or opposes the Catholic teaching of Christ's church.

This [sic] it may be useful for confessors to remember, not because Catholics are in any way to be encouraged to associate themselves with any movement which will cast a doubt upon their thorough and sincere fidelity to the one true Church of Christ, but because circumstances may bring a Catholic unwittingly into associations which look like a denial of faith without being such in reality. In these cases prudence and discretion will counsel and lead a person out of the danger, where blind and mechanical zeal would forthwith condemn absolution under morally unchangeable conditions.

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Footnotes:

1. Vol. XV, 1896, pp. 428–430.

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Source: "Catholic Singers in Protestant Churches," American Ecclesiastical Review 33 (November 1905): 524–526.

Repost: Catholic Organists and Singers in Protestant Churches

[428] Qu. Dear Rev. Sir: In a Conference lately held we disagreed as to the licity [sic], under any circumstances, of a Catholic acting as organist for any Protestant service. We agreed to submit the question to the Ecclesiastical Review.

Can a Catholic, in conscience, act as a salaried organist or as singer in a Jewish synagogue or Protestant church, i. e., as such during what they call their divine service?

It was declared that no Priest, Bishop or Pope could grant said permission under any circumstances.

Resp. Whilst as Catholics we are not forbidden honorably to assist Protestants, Jews or Pagans when they stand in need of our service, nor to earn our daily bread by serving them in honest employment—the positive divine law forbids all conscious and direct participation in heretical worship. This is done by playing the organ or singing in the religious service of those who deny the revealed truth of Christ as manifested through its only legitimate channel, the Catholic Church. In case of most sects the very term "Protestant," accepted by them as their religious party-name, is an unconscious admission of their denial of the Catholic teaching as emanating from God. Individual Protestants may not realize this fact; they may be, as we say, "in good faith;" [sic] nevertheless they have attached themselves to a wrong or defective system of interpreting the truth in which God commands us to worship Him. Catholics who are supposed to know and realize the fact that they are in possession of the true faith, cannot consent under any pretext to participate in such false worship without denying implicitly the faith which [429] they are pledged to maintain uncorrupted at the risk of their lives.

What is said here of Protestants is true of Jews and of all other sects separated from the one true Church which, like an open book, is accessible to all who will approach and examine her teaching without malice or prejudice.

What the Catholic believes on this subject to-day is precisely the same as that which the early Christians believed when they shed their blood as martyrs rather than worship in the pagan faith; or which the Jews believed before the coming of Christ, as is witnessed by Eleazar and the Maccabees, who preferred to suffer torture and death sooner than participate in a religious worship which they knew to be false, although there may have been men who belonged to it in good faith.

If there could be any doubt as to the duty of Catholics in this respect, it would be dispelled by the following declaration of the sacred tribunal which acts as the ordinary legitimate interpreter of Catholic disciplinary law. (Cf. Collectan., n. 1854.)

Ex Litt. S. C. de Prop. Fide 8 Jul. 1889, (ad Archiep. Marianopolit.)
"Quidam . . . istius archi-dioecensis petierat facultatem pulsandi in diebus festis organa in templis protestantium ad victum sibi procurandum. S. Congregatio super precibus, uti supra, hoc edidit decretum Fer IV. die 19 elapsi Junii:
Illicitum esse in templis haereticorum, cum ibi falsum cultum exercent, organum pulsare. . . . Quod decretum SS. D. N. Leo XIII eadem die ratum ha buit et confirmavit."

It must not be forgotten, however, that playing or singing in churches or houses which are used for Protestant worship is not quite the same as playing or singing at Protestant worship. [N.B. This is the part of the reason that early American Catholics could share the same church building with Protestants, having Mass at one time, and the Protestant service at a different time.]

Nor is every gathering of non-Catholics for purposes of moral culture, on Sundays, a religious worship in the sense that it excludes or opposes the Catholic teaching of Christ's church.

This [sic] it may be useful for confessors to remember, not because Catholics are in any way to be encouraged to associate [430] themselves with any movement which will cast a doubt upon their thorough and sincere fidelity to the one true Church of Christ, but because circumstances may bring a Catholic unwittingly into associations which look like a denial of faith without being such in reality. In these cases prudence and discretion will counsel and lead a person out of the danger, where blind and mechanical zeal would forthwith condemn absolution under morally unchangeable conditions.

We discussed a case of this kind, not long ago, in the Review.

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Source: "Catholic Organists and Singers in Protestant Churches," American Ecclesiastical Review 15 (October 1896): 428–430.

Memo: The Spirituality of Organ & Humanities

I want to begin considering what a "spirituality of organ music" may be like, for the organist, for the listener, for the public at large. It may perhaps touch on the spirituality of music itself and its relation to man's desire for beauty, etc.

Source: Elijah Ho, "Interview with Organist Paul Jacobs," Examiner, February 16, 2014, accessed September 29, 2014, http://www.examiner.com/article/interview-with-organist-paul-jacobs.

From the interview above:

We place great emphasis on our financial, physical, and mental well-being, but, it has become possible with our busy lives to neglect our spiritual health. There's the old adage about the two things one shouldn't discuss in public - religion and politics. Well, the fact is that our culture is utterly consumed by politics, publicly and privately; it occupies our daily discourse in newspapers, on television, on the internet, and in personal conversation. It's inescapable. But religious or spiritual questions are another matter. Though these timeless questions are always there, like an elephant in the room, they're seldom discussed or pursued, even among friends. They make us uncomfortable, and for good reason. Yet they are most important - not to mention the most interesting, as they define our worldview and can offer a sense of the Infinite. 

As far as the organ is concerned, I suppose it reminds us of a philosophical, reflective bent of the human condition – something outside of ourselves, something ‘fixed’, something massive, something with an objectivity to it. While the instrument is capable in the hands of a sensitive organist to capture the most intimate human emotions – and it does this very well – its ability to penetrate the human soul to its very core is unique. When required, it can produce a marvelously terrifying effect, reminding us of the frailty and brevity of our lives. [...] 

Charles-Marie Widor, the 19th century French organist, once said, "To play the organ well, one must be filled with a vision of eternity". [...]

There are legitimate reasons to be troubled by the direction of our culture. It seems that, whenever we read articles concerning the state of classical music, they tend only to address the topic in a vacuum, separating it from a bigger reality. For a clearer perspective on the health or frailty of classical music, we must examine it under the umbrella of the humanities.

How are the humanities at large doing in our society? Music falls within this much broader category, and, unfortunately, there's much documentation confirming that humanitarian pursuits are in decline. Our society gives preference to scientists, doctors, lawyers, business leaders, technology, and so forth, but far less value is given to subjects that cause us to reflect deeply on the human condition. We must try to understand why this is the case. The humanities include literature, history, languages, art, philosophy, religion and music - subjects that carry us beyond the here and now. Artists and musicians must become more explicit in their charge to reawaken in our age that basic desire that we all have for transcendence. An art form is only secure if there are those willing to sacrifice for it. Fortunately, there is an army of dedicated, intelligent young musicians who understand what is at stake. Not just classical music, but the very soul of our culture. [...]

As far as music criticism is concerned, I think the decline of the role of music critics is indicative of a general cultural trend: the ability, or desire, to listen critically. This is the unavoidable result of a culture that does not emphasize a proper music education or its vast history. If you don’t value the education, you’re not going to value the subject very much, regardless of how it makes you 'feel'. Consequently, everything has been reduced to a matter of personal opinion, where all positions are equally valid, without any critical thinking, crucial listening, drawing distinctions, etc. – I mean, these are the building blocks of the Western tradition going back to the Greeks!

We seem to have turned our backs on these important principles and they must be regained. We should strive to increase our expectations for what music can do for us in our lives. Then we'll be less satisfied with what the latest pop-star puts out – that’s not to say that one doesn’t have the right to listen to it – but I believe these pop hits are woefully incapable of offering a glimpse of all that music has been and has the potential to be.

A greater awareness for the rich history of music is something that must be regained. It's disturbing whenever I meet highly educated individuals who know no music before the Beatles. They must be encouraged to dig and search for the sake of unearthing musical treasures of the past; for this music continues to resound with tremendous force. But one must listen.

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Separately, a spirituality of the humanities. What are the implications of the humanities, of liberal learning? What does it do even in the natural plane of self-reflection as individuals and a culture?

Repost: 17th Cent. German Catholic and Protestant Organ Music

The appearance of discernible trends in German keyboard music marks the beginning of the seventeenth century. In addition to the traditional separation between sacred and secular forms there was another: Catholic or Protestant. Each religion had its characteristic liturgy and musical forms, although some were common to both, and indigenous to geographic boundaries. While the North embraced the Protestant faith, the South remained steadfastly Catholic.

The Catholic liturgy, which had almost entirely abandoned congregational singing, limited organists to versets, preludes and interludes that were based on a Gregorian cantus firmus, though some characteristic musical forms did come into existence through the inspiration of the new currents of national schools, particularly Italian and French types. The Italian form of the keyboard score, using the standard forms of mensural notation, made its appearance in Austria and Bavaria where the Italian influence was strongest. Here, organists who were also court musicians and harpsichordists, enthusiastically embraced the music of Frescobaldi and Lully. But the organ was used mainly in connection with the Mass, the Magnificat, and a few devotional hymns usually associated with Vespers. These were cantus firmus compositions based on the plainsong propers and preserved, presumably, the alternatim practice of juxtaposing organ versets against vocal plainchant. We also find universal forms such as the toccata used in the Mass, since compositions intended expressly for Catholic use were not prevalent at the time. This paucity of Catholic organ music is quite surprising, given the importance of composers such as Georg Muffat, Johann Georg Albrechtsberger and Franz Xaver Murschhauser who were active in Catholic cities such as Munich and Vienna. Instead, imitative contrapuntal forms and secular genres constitute the more impressive portion of their output for the keyboard. Paradoxically, a significant amount of Catholic organ repertory was not written by Catholic composers at all but by their Protestant colleagues, since many Lutheran cathedrals still used Masses, Magnificats, and certain office hymns with their Latin texts. Noteworthy, are no less than ninety-four fugues on the Magnificat by Johann Pachelbel!

By comparison, there is an extraordinary amount of music based on Lutheran chorale melodies by Protestant organist-composers. This was an outgrowth of Martin Luther's third reform (Luther's Werke, L,368-74) which thoroughly endorsed congregational singing. Indeed, it encouraged "sensitivity to the beauty of artistically refined music." Luther, himself, loved the contrapuntal compositions of Josquin, Isaac, and Senfl. He wrote a most eloquent and romantic eulogy to polyphonic art, though he abhorred the deliriously wandering melismata in which words evaporated like incense. He wanted to restore the intelligibility of the text.

The chorale themes form the musical basis of the Reformation liturgy, initially consisted of plainchant melodies, popular tunes, and songs of German, Italian, French, and Dutch origin. The early reformers themselves enriched the Protestant hymnal; Luther contributed over forty original, adapted, and borrowed themes. As in Roman practice, where plainsong is proper to particular seasons and festivals, the Protestant chorale is of integral importance to the Protestant liturgy, with a distinctive character and function for each occasion. Furthermore, certain chorales correspond to components of the Mass (Wir glauben all' an einen Gott, for example, is the Lutheran Credo). The assimilation of this huge body of material, not only into organ music but vocal and instrumental works as well, was undertaken with great enterprise by the Protestant composers.

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Source: Joseph Payne, "About This Recording," in German Organ Music, Vol. 2, http://www.naxos.com/mainsite/blurbs_reviews.asp?item_code=8.550965&catNum=550965&filetype=About+this+Recording&language=English.

Reposted: "Instrumental Music in Church"

The Organ

Of all instruments of music, the human voice is the most perfect, because it is most admirably adapted to give expression to the most varied emotions which in turn sway the heart of man. One of the oldest and most persistent instincts of mankind is to imitate, reproduce, or amplify the human voice. Musical instruments of every description, from the primitive reed pierced by a few holes and emitting a few monotonous sounds to the Strad or the modern grand organ, all serve but that one purpose. Musical instruments are as old as the world; in their use man has sought comfort in grief and increase of his happiness; their harmony has enhanced the beauty and solemnity of both public and private functions among civilized peoples, and there probably never was a time when not only vocal, but likewise instrumental music, formed part of the public observances of religion.

This is not the place to study the history and evolution of instrumental music; however, it will be useful briefly to examine the place of this kind of music in the sacred ceremonies of the Old Law, and the manner in which it came to form an almost integral part of Catholic worship.

The Bible ascribes the fabrication of the first musical instrument to Jubal, the son of Lamech: we are told that, "he was the father of them that play upon the harp and the organs" (Gen., iv. 21). Obviously, there is no question here of organs in the modern sense of the word: Jubal's "organs" are only a generic name for wind instruments of every description, for it is hardly probable that those primitive musical instruments were very much more than rustic reeds or flutes and similar instruments. However, the rapid progress of all the arts and crafts led to a wonderful improvement of musical instruments. Trumpets appear to have been the only instruments used by the Israelites for religious purposes. Some of these were made of brass, others were only the horns of rams — these last were ceremonially blown to mark the beginning of the New Year. Two silver trumpets, made by the command of the Lord, were used not only for the purpose of giving various signals, but for exclusively religious objects: "If at any time you shall have a banquet, and on your festival days, and on the first days of your months, you shall sound the trumpets over the holocausts, and the sacrifices of peace offerings..." (Num. x. 10). Sacred History tells us what role the trumpets of the priests played at the taking of Jericho. When the temple came to be built, and already in the reign of David, there was a vast number of musicians, playing on divers instruments, who accompanied the singing, thus adding luster to the liturgical functions of the tabernacle and the temple.

Nor was the use of musical instruments confined to the Jews. We gather from the Book of Daniel that music was an integral part of the religious ceremonies of the Assyrians. The Liturgy of Holy Saturday has familiarized us long ago with the names of the manifold instruments composing the orchestra which played at the dedication of the golden statue set up by Nabuchodonosor the king.

The early Christians rigidly banned musical instruments from their religious assemblies. At any rate, there is no mention of their use, and several texts positively show that, at least in the period preceding the Peace of the Church, the singing of the clergy and people was unsupported by any instrument whatever. There are writers who think that the hymns and psalms were accompanied on the harp or lyre. This may have been the case in private singing, but there is no document to prove the use of these instruments in the public services of the Church. A text of Clement of Alexandria can hardly be said to prove more than the above-made statement: "Though we no longer worship God with the clamor of military instruments, such as the trumpet, drum and fife, but with peaceful words, this is our most delightful festivity; and if you are able to accompany your voices with the lyre or kithara, you shall incur no censure" (cfr. Burney, "Hist. of Music," II, 26). It seems to be a matter beyond doubt that, when writers of the first three or four centuries speak of the lyre or harp as accompanying the sacred chant, there is never question of ecclesiastical or liturgical chant. We know how strictly the Eastern Churches have clung to the primitive observance: no other sound is heard at their liturgical services, save that of the human voice. A like exclusiveness is observed in the Papal Chapels at Rome, where the sound of the organ is never heard, but only the human voice. But all the world knows the wonderful music composed for the Papal choir and the brilliant maestria with which it is executed. The severity of the primitive Church will be readily understood when we bear in mind the uses which instrumental music was then put to. The organ is a familiar, and all but indispensable article in the furniture and decoration of a modern church, and church and organ are so closely linked together in our minds that we look upon the organ as a purely ecclesiastical object, or as serving a religious purpose, even when we find it placed in some of our public halls. This association is, of course, mainly due to the fact that the improvements, which the primitive organ received in the course of the centuries especially in the eighteenth is almost exclusively owing to its concurrence in the solemn services of the Catholic Church.

However, the organ is not a Christian discovery, but was already known in the third century before our era. Its inventor was a barber of Alexandria, one Ctesibius, who had likewise a taste for mechanics. He observed that the counterweight of a movable mirror, used for the purpose of his trade, produced a musical sound by the force with which it drove the air out of the tube in which it moved. Basing his experiments on this principle he succeeded in constructing a machine consisting of a hollow vessel inverted, with an opening on the top, to which was attached a trumpet. On water being pumped into the vessel, the air was forcibly driven into the trumpet, thus producing a very powerful sound. This was the first step on a road, which has led to the building of our modern organ. The idea of Ctesibius was developed by another engineer, a certain Hero. He constructed a musical instrument in which the air was conveyed from the vessel not only to one, but to several pipes, placed in a row and arranged in the order of a musical scale, any one of which could be made to sound at will. Water being the chief motive power, the instrument was called hydraulus. Vitruvius gives an elaborate description of an hydraulus, which shows that by the first century there was already a great advance upon the invention of Ctesibius and Hero. The hydraulus — or organ, as we may now call it — obtained an immediate and immense popularity, even emperors becoming not only patrons of the new instrument, but performers as well. Suetonius relates that, when Nero was reduced to flee from the pursuit of those who sought his death, he vowed that, if he escaped with his life, he would enter the public contests as a performer on the organ and other instruments. Claudian, a pagan poet of the fourth century, writes with enthusiasm of the organist who, with a light touch, sends forth powerful, rolling sounds, and by his wandering fingers causes the innumerable voices which spring from the multitude of bronze pipes to sound, and who, with a beam-like lever, can rouse the struggling waters to song. We have here a description of an instrument of considerable size and perfection, for the poet was much struck by the number of pipes and the powerful bellows, which were worked with handles of such size as to suggest beams. In point of fact, the pictures and engravings that have come down to us from early and medieval times, and which enable us to follow up the origin and evolution of the organ, make it quite plain that not only was the blower's task a laborious one, but even the performer on the instrument must have worked at the sweat of his brow. The keys had a breadth of several inches and the mechanism was so cumbersome that to strike a note on the keyboard had nothing metaphorical about it, but meant a blow with the clenched fist, or even with the elbow. There is a remarkable relief on an obelisk at Constantinople, dating from the time of Theodosius, which shows a stage, at the two ends of which there is an organ, the bellows being worked by two men. On the stage are seen flute players and dancers. This scene helps us to understand the reluctance of ecclesiastical authorities to sanction the use of the instrument in church. It had hitherto been so exclusively associated with the noisy, and too frequently lascivious entertainments of the theatre. No wonder St. Jerome (Ep. cvii ad Laet.) wishes the Christian maiden to be deaf when the alluring melodies of the organ were to be heard (surda sit ad organa).

From what has been said it follows that, even if the word organ be frequently used in a general manner to designate any kind of concerted instrumental music, the word has yet a very clear and definite meaning. There has been in existence for more than two thousand years an instrument, which was not essentially different from our modern organ, so much so that at least one historian of the instrument has not hesitated to say that there has been no substantial improvement upon the organ as described by Vitruvius, and the instruments built in the eighteenth century.

St. Augustine makes repeated allusions to the organ. Commenting upon the words of Psalm cl, "Praise him on the strings and organs," he says:

"Both psaltery and harp, which have been mentioned above, have strings. But organ is a general name for all instruments of music, although usage has now obtained that those are specially called organ which are inflated with bellows ... he added the organ, to signify that they (the Saints) sound not each separately, but sound together in most harmonious diversity, just as they are arranged in a musical instrument (ideo addidit organum, non ut singulae sonent, sed ut diversitate concordissima consonent, sicut ordinantur in organo). For even then the Saints of God will have their differences, accordant, not discordant, that is, agreeing, not disagreeing, just as sweetest harmony arises from sounds differing indeed, but not opposed to one another."

At what period was the organ admitted into our churches? It is impossible to answer the question with absolute certainty, but it would appear that Pope Vitalian first gave it right of citizenship in the Christian assembly. This would be prior to Charlemagne. There are writers who suggest that the Pope merely sanctioned a custom already established. After the Byzantine emperors had presented both Pepin and Charlemagne with organs of considerable size and excellent workmanship, a real industry of organ building sprang into existence in the West. Gaul and Germany appear to have possessed the most highly skilled organ builders and players, for in 873 Pope John VIII asked Bishop Anno of Freising (cfr. Mansi, xvii, 245) to send him not only the very best instrument that could be procured, but likewise an organ builder who would be able to explain to the Romans the working of the organ and teach them how to perform upon it" (ut optimum organum cum artifice, qui hoc moderari et facere ad omnem modulationis efficaciam possit, ad instructionem musicae disciplinae nobis deferas aut mittas).

The organ became a source of endless joy to the simpler people of those days, so that a monastic writer of the Merovingian period, when enumerating the joys of heaven, asserts that one of them is that the Blessed shall hear everlasting organ music (Reg. incert. auct. in "Patrol. Lat," LXXXVIII, vol. 958).

One of the most famous organs of the Middle Ages was that which was erected by St. Elphege at Winchester about 950. From the poetic description of the Monk Wolstan, we gather that this huge organ had four hundred pipes and twenty-six bellows, of which twelve were above and twelve below, blown by seventy strong men (folles agitant validi septuaginta viri). Such an instrument, however, could scarcely be used to accompany the singing, for, stops not having been invented yet, the "full organ" had to be employed. Hence, "like thunder the iron tones batter the ear, so that it may receive no sound but that alone. To such an amount does it reverberate, that everyone stops with his hand his gaping ears, being in nowise able to draw near and hear the sound, which so many combinations produce. The music is heard throughout the town, and the fame thereof is gone over the whole country" (Cf. Abdy Williams, "The Story of the Organ," p. 30).

That in some quarters, especially monastic ones, there was persistent opposition to the use of the organ in churches seems evident from a letter of Archbishop Baldric of Dole (Ep. ad Fiscannenses in "Patrol Lat," CLXVI, col. 1177). After describing the organ, which he saw at Fecamp, he says that there are many who having no organs in their own churches criticize those who possess them. He calls those men detractors who refuse to take to heart the lesson taught by the organ (quod organa nobis innuant, nesciunt exponere). The prelate concludes by saying that, if we possess organs, we allow their use (eis uti ecclesiastica consuetudine permittimus); but, if a church have no organ, this lack is no sacrilege (sine sacrilegio eis carere possumus). And this is the lesson we should take to heart as we listen to the harmonies of the organ: audientes organa, interiori uniamur harmonia, et bituminemur dilectione bifaria.

Besides the large, or grand organ, a smaller instrument came into use towards the end of the Middle Ages. It was called ninfale in Italian, and portative in English. It was frequently hung round the performer's neck, who worked the bellows with one hand and played with the other. These small organs appear frequently on pictures and statues, but no sample has come down to us. They were much used in processions and in small churches or chapels. The following item of the will of Richard Fitz-James, Bishop of London, who died in 1522, is of interest:

"I will that my payre of Portatives being in my chapel in the Palace of London, mine organs, also being and standing in my chapels within my three manors of Fulham, Hadham and Wykeham, shall there stand still and remain to my successor, next bishop of London, that they may be used there to the honour and glory of God."

If there was strong and persistent opposition to the use of the organ down to the twelfth century, the motive may have been, at least in some quarters, a certain amount of puritanism. But in all probability the chief reason in the mind of the objectors was the imperfection and consequent unsuitableness of the instrument, for, at least to the cultured ear, the loud and crude sounds of a clumsy machine may well have seemed to be unbecoming in a place of worship. However, notwithstanding all opposition, the organ gradually became the supreme musical instrument in the Western Church. According to the present legislation of the Church, the organ may be played on all joyful and festive occasions, both to accompany the singing and likewise by way of voluntaries and so forth. The organ should be silent at Requiem Masses, and during Lent and Advent (except on the Sundays Gaudete and Laectare). Moreover, if a choir needs the support of the organ, it is permissible to play it even in Lent and Advent, but only whilst the choir is actually singing. But this indulgence does not extend to the last three days of Holy Week (S. R. C., March 20, 1903, n. 4009).

The organ receives a special blessing from the Church. The organist should, therefore, ever be mindful that he handles an instrument, which has been dedicated and set apart for the service of God. This thought will prevent him from playing upon a consecrated instrument airs, which may be permissible in the concert hall and similar places, but are a profanation of the sanctuary. At the blessing of an organ Psalm cl is first sung, after which follow two responses and a prayer, which admirably describes the fruit we should derive from the use of the organ:

"O God, who didst command Thy servant Moses to make trumpets, to sound over the sacrifices which were to be offered to Thy name, and who didst will that the sons of Israel should sing the praises of Thy name to the sound of trumpets and cymbals, bless this organ which we dedicate to Thy service, and grant that Thy faithful children, rejoicing in spiritual canticles upon earth, may attain unto everlasting joy in heaven. Amen."

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Source: Benedictine Monks of Buckfast Abbey, "Instrumental Music in Church," Homiletic and Pastoral Review, June 1927: 965–971; republished: http://www.catholicculture.org/culture/library/view.cfm?recnum=3662.

Memo: "Catholic Organ Music"

This is a memo to begin looking into what constitutes "Catholic organ music" or even "Catholic music" although I think "Catholic organ music" is less well defined prima facie. 

Part of me suspects that most of this will require historical and scholarly study of a vast amount, examining both Church "published" discipline and Church "practiced" discipline over the different European countries.

First place to look will be papal documents for the "published discipline."

Perhaps becoming familiar with what different authors were writing in treatises on organ playing and chant accompaniment may shed light on what was both being practiced and theorized.

Prompted by this article that I had read a long time ago and, upon rereading, remembered that it wasn't satire or a joke but actually quite serious: http://www.bostonglobe.com/opinion/2012/10/24/revitalize-catholic-church-let-kill-all-organs/9FpzZPSQzhfd4uUeCJNDbK/story.html

If I had to comment at all about it, I would simply say that most of my peers find organ music to be the distinguishing mark of the Catholic liturgy (this being among people who are not much versed in liturgy, even among seminarians). Even atheist friends, musicians and not, in college would be found in a Catholic church only to hear the organ, say at a concert. Of course, this matter cannot be argued by means of anecdotes.

It's actually a very simple matter: Graham as most Christians do today views the supernatural through a naturalistic lens (distinguishing here between naturalistic and natural; natural pertains to nature as is whereas naturalistic pertains to the secular materialism that is part of the collective consciousness of present Western culture) and thus applies the standards of materialists not only to the ways of grace but also to the ways of the Church. Unfortunately, and I suspect this has almost always been the case throughout time and space, most Christians don't really understand much or anything about liturgy or God or their own religion, even ostensibly devout ones. The result of this ignorance has been very unfortunate. In the present age, otherwise completely unqualified people are now able to opine about matters which they can bring only their own experiences and reflections to—not to say that these are completely irrelevant, but the tendency of our day is to think that individual and collective experience and sentiment have a say in matters that actually they do not or in a way that they do not or cannot. E.g. no matter what people feel or say or think, only one man and one woman may be married to each other in a natural marriage or in the Sacrament of Matrimony; women cannot become priests; God is a Trinity of Persons, unity of nature; etc.

The response to people like Graham (I say that not in any derogatory way) is twofold: 1) educational and 2) evangelical. The educational component requires a study of: the faith itself and gaining the perspective of faith; Church teaching on liturgy and music. The evangelical aspect is a witnessing of the faith that is the only authentic and guaranteed method of bringing people into a living faith, informed by the mind of the Church. The music played at Church is incidental and only symptomatic of the deeper spiritual emptiness experienced throughout most of the present Church, even the organ music. Graham's post, far from being incorrect, rather reveals the unconscious truth of the present Church's state: a state of desolation and emptiness and a profound ignorance and lack of self identity.

This matter of self identity is also to be found in related matters, such as the meaning of clerical vestments and garb, the authority and symbolism of the papacy, the relation between clergy and laity, etc.