HRIST IS RISEN, ALLELUIA! Even as He said; alleluia! For this Easter season, I’ve been gathering my thoughts on the Regina Caeli, the Marian antiphon that is sung throughout the fifty days leading up to the Feast of Pentecost. My focus in this article is a comparison between the simple version of the chant as found in the Roman rite, and a variation of that version found in the Norbertine (Praemonstratensian) Order. To my knowledge, this latter version has never been recorded in its simple form and posted online until this article. Along the way, I’ll pause for two theological notes on the text, sketch a bit of background on Norbertine chant practice, and then set the Roman and Norbertine melodies side-by-side. The Solemn setting of the Regina Caeli has already been posted online: there are two renderings of it from Orange County that I am familiar with: this one from the Norbertines of St. Michael’s Abbey, as well as this one from John Shaw, the cantor at the parish of St. John the Baptist where I serve as music director.
The simple (simplex) version?
That’s a different story, and it deserves a closer look.
Two Theological “Quirks”
The Regina Caeli replaces the Angelus during Eastertide—morning, noon, and evening if recited. When sung, it appears at the end of Compline, without the additional versicle “Gaude et lætáre, Virgo María, allelúja…” and so forth. I have always been struck by the boldness of its opening line:
Regína Cæli, Lætáre, allelúja!
Queen of Heaven, rejoice, alleluia!
We have an imperative “rejoice!”—we on earth are telling Our Lady to rejoice—even though we know that she rejoices as the Immaculate Mother of God. Yet this is the importance of the beauty of the Church’s liturgy on earth: our rejoicing is joined to hers, and hers overflows into ours. Somewhat like placing a warm object next to a blazing one, the greater heat passes into the lesser. Her joy ignites ours. And, yet—if I may be so bold—I would also take it a step further: is her joy not made broader and deeper when she hears God’s praises from us, her children? Since human nature is transformed and elevated in beatitude (not surpassed or destroyed), we can truly say that her joy is increased. Her joy grows when she sees her children on earth bring the joy of the Resurrection forward in time each year, in each church, in each place it is sung. So, we can say that Mary’s joy increases, not in perfection, but in scope and depth as we sing her Son’s praises each year in all the Mysteries of His earthly life.
The next phrase deepens the paradox:
Quia quem meruísti portáre, allelúja!
For He whom you merited to bear, alleluia!
How can a human being “merit” to bear the Son of God? And yet the Church dares to say it. Mary’s merit is entirely God’s gift; yet truly hers. These brief lines contain an astonishing density of theology: grace, merit, the Incarnation, the reality of the communion of saints, and the nature of liturgical prayer itself. This is why the Church’s ancient hymns and texts matter. They are compact vessels of doctrine, devotion, and paradox—small texts with enormous depth.
…that you, being rooted and grounded in love, may have power to comprehend with all the saints what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ which surpasses knowledge, that you may be filled with all the fulness of God. (Ephesians 3: 17-19)
A Note on Chant Traditions
Jeff Ostrovsky recently wrote an article on another Marian antiphon (Alma Redemptoris Mater) touching on rhythmic interpretation from the vantage point of French and German traditions. This discussion is relevant here, because the Norbertine tradition reflects a fascinating blend of influences. The Order of Prémontré sits at a cultural crossroads. Saint Norbert was born in Xanten (on the modern German-Dutch border), founded his order in Prémontré (France), later became Archbishop of Magdeburg (Germany), and maintained close ties with Bishop Bartholomew of Laon (France). As a side note, I believe that the Laon manuscript tradition—as distinct from Saint Gall—shaped much of the Norbertine chant repertory.
Without further digression, here is the antiphon:
Taking a look at the Norbertine Regina Caeli several features instantly stand out to someone accustomed to Roman versions of the chant:
No Mocquereau markings: The Norbertines intentionally omitted them in their editions in favor of “…the form of the musical notation according to the standard used in the manuscripts of our Order in the thirteenth century, since among all it is both clearer and more elegant, and moreover has been adopted by all Religious Orders and indeed by the entire Roman Church.” That quotation comes from the INTRODUCTION to the Antiphonarium Praemonstratense. Theirs was an interesting decision (stated calmly, not hysterically) since they would have certainly been aware of the Solesmes GRADUALE ROMANUM published in 1908—which does contain the diacritical markings of Dom Mocquereau.
Bolded commas (virgæ): The Antiphonarium O.Præm. emphasizes: “This little stroke (virga) placed below the staff does not indicate a breath, but a certain pause or slight retardation of the voice.” A working theory I have is that these represent the subtle spacing Dom Pothier described (mora vocis); viz. tiny separations between neumes adapted and preserved in Norbertine practice. If the Norbertine Order was influenced by the mora vocis of Dom Pothier, how much else influenced them upon seeing the publication of the Vatican and Solesmes editions of the Graduale? This topic deserves its own future article. (The Norbertine Order published their editions in the 1930s, while Dom Pothier and Dom Mocquereau’s editions were in 1908 … plenty of time for circulation.)
Hearing the Norbertine Version:
Here’s the direct URL link.
To my knowledge, this is the first online recording of the simple Norbertine Regina Caeli.
Interpretive notes:
According to the Norbertine interpretation of rhythm in chant:
- Virgæ function almost like quarter bars without a breath: small, deliberate hesitations.
- The Norbertines adopt the German practice of lengthening the accented penultimate note before half, full, and double bar lines.
- Quarter bars do not receive the “Germanic lengthening” Jeff Ostrovsky describes in his
article—at least the way I learned the chants at Saint Michael’s Abbey in Silverado. Perhaps some of the other priories and abbeys do otherwise. Since there are “virgæ” (which is not a breath mark, but closer to a mora vocis), quarter bars are observed to give a short breath indication.
I find the blend of French and German rhythmic ‘instincts’ captivating. Additionally, Saint Michael’s Abbey was founded by Hungarian Norbertines from Csorna fleeing the persecution of the Communist takeover.
Roman vs. Norbertine:
A Side-by-Side Look
When I first learned the Regina Caeli, it was the Norbertine version. Only later did I discover how different (and oddly similar) the Roman version melody is. Here is a line-by-line comparison in picture form:
Notice the shared phrasing instincts, the shared text emphasis, and even an exact parallel in the melody! To my ear, the Norbertine version has elegant divergences from the Roman, as well as a little more variation in contour and cadences.
Final Thoughts • I used to wonder how singing the Regina Caeli in diverse ways could still fit within the Catholic tradition. It’s a genuine question. Now, I do not see the differing versions as undermining the unity of Catholic liturgy in the Roman Rite. If anything, this authentic variation enriches it. Chant traditions can be seen as facets of a prism: rotate that crystal, and the same light refracts into new patterns of color: same light, same prism, many variations. Let’s pray together for all musicians and artists this Easter season, that they might more fully enable the Glory of the Resurrection to flow from their music, and into their lives and hearts. May Mary’s rejoicing truly take up residence in our hearts, as we beseech her:
Ora pro nobis Deum: allelúja!
