CERTAIN RELIGIOUS order does something on a daily basis which I consider truly terrific. Immediately upon waking, each monk goes behind the monastery, grabs a shovel, and takes one scoop of dirt from their eventual grave. This is done to remind them that in a very short time each of us will die, be judged, and enter eternity. FULTON J. SHEEN did something similar. Even though each day during the 1950s he received about 15,000 letters, he never saved any. He destroyed them all. Sheen realized that in the blink of an eye—when we least expect it—we will die. If any of us were to receive 15,000 letters each day, we’d surely save at least some of them.1 But what’s the point in saving anything? Before we know it, we’ll be dead.
(1 of 3) The Only Thing • Sheen knew he must focus on what really matters. Those of us who serve as church musicians must also be laser focused on what really matters. In our vocation, the only thing that really matters is how the choir sounds. Is it prayerful? Is it beautiful? Is it monotonous? Is it true art? Is it delightful? Is it dignified? Is it distracting? In a moment, I’ll explain what I’m getting at. First, listen to a clip of my volunteer choir taken during last Thursday’s rehearsal, learning the ENTRANCE CHANT for this coming Sunday:
(2 of 3) The Only Thing • When I studied with the director of the Pontifical Institute of Sacred Music, he asked the same question over and over again: “But what does his choir sound like?” That was his way of reminding me the only thing that matters is what the choir sounds like.
One can sit at home and dream up hundreds and hundreds of complicated theories about Gregorian Chant. And one can spend hours sharing such theories on social media. But the only thing that counts is going into real parishes (in the real world) and teaching Gregorian Chant to real people. This is hard work! At times it can be scary, stressful, and discouraging. But for the conscientious and competent choirmaster, it’s the only thing that matters.
(3 of 3) The Only Thing • Online, you can find all kinds of unsolicited ‘advice’ from people who have never stood in front of a choir in real life. But you can silence them instantaneously by asking a simple question: “Can you send me a recording of your choir singing last Sunday?” A few years ago, this was brought home to me in a powerful way. A gentleman online promotes himself as the world’s expert on adiastematic neumes. I asked to hear a sample, and he sent a recording of his choir attempting to sing a simple SATB hymn. It sounded awful. (I got second-hand embarrassment just from listening to it.) That helped me realize that those who brag online are often frauds in real life.
Therefore, let’s never forget that success in our field is not measured by the amount of times people go on social media to declare how clever they are. Success is measured by how your choir sounds in real life. Full stop.
Memorable Melodies • I don’t claim that recording (above) from Thursday’s rehearsal is anywhere near perfect. But we’re on the right track. There was no choir when I arrived here a year ago. When I began teaching them the Proprium Missae, they were brand new each week! But now we’ve reached a point where the Propria are starting to repeat—and this is very exciting. Indeed, Gregorian melodies ‘stick’ in one’s memory in a way that’s both marvelous and surprising!
Concluding Thoughts • These days, it’s possible to sign up for “artificial intelligence” propers. In other words, some companies use computer programs to ‘spit out’ Gregorian settings of the propers—for a fee, of course—then users just press print. In my view, such “compositions” lack inspiration. They resemble what Cardinal Ratzinger called utility music. Although formed using Gregorian notation, many are actually an insipid ‘imitation’ of art. But can we really attract serious choristers with inferior music? I realize some of these productions are convenient, and the temptation to take a ‘shortcut’ will always be there. But when plainsong is adapted to the vernacular, I feel it should be done in an artistic and memorable way. Needless to say, I can’t speak for all my colleagues. (But several have expressed similar views privately.)
1 For the record, Bishop Sheen was also unthinkably careless with money.
