O Come, O Come, Emmanuel,
And ransom captive Israel
That mourns in lonely exile here,
Until the Son of God appear!
Rejoice! Rejoice!
Emmanuel shall come to thee, O Israel!
Based on “O” Antiphons,
Latin, 9th century
Music in Advent: the “O!” Antiphons
During the season of Advent, the music from liturgy to liturgy and week to week will be much more united in character than it is during Ordinary Time. We are using different Mass Acclamations, our Kyrie and Alleluia are based on a familiar Advent carol (“O Come, Divine Messiah,” which we sang at the closing for most of last weekend’s liturgies,) and we will use the same ancient hymn at the Entrance for all four Sundays, with different verses each week.
“O Come, O Come, Emmanuel” is one of the best-known and best-loved Advent hymns of all time. What many people do not know is that it is, in its original form, over 1200 years old: it was a Gregorian Chant hymn in Latin (“Veni, veni, Emmanuel”) commonly sung by monks to count down the final week leading to Christmas Day. The verse we now know best and sing first in our version of the hymn would have been the antiphon for December 23, the last evening before the Nativity celebrations begun.
Each of the seven verses, in the Latin, began with an invocation of a different title for the Messiah: “O Key of David!” “O Root of Jesse!” “O Dayspring!” and so on. These texts have become an integral part of much of our Advent hymnody: during this season, we will also sing two different contemporary settings of the same text: “For you, O Lord, my soul in stillness waits…” (#336 in our hymnal) takes its refrain from Psalm 95 but its verses from the O Antiphons. “Maranatha, Lord Messiah!” by Kathy Powell (#324 in our hymnal) removes the word “O!” from the beginning of each verse, but they still follow the pattern of the original, even to re-placing “Come, Emmanuel” in its original spot in verse 7.
Enjoy these hymns, as we raise our voices in song to prepare for the Lord’s coming!
Monday, December 8, 2008
O Come, Divine Messiah! Advent week I
O Come, Divine Messiah!
The world in silence waits the day
When hope shall sing its triumph,
And sadness flee away!
French Carol, 16th century
The First Sunday in Advent: Happy New Year!
Advent marks the beginning of the new liturgical year—you’ll notice that today we have new Word and Song books in the pews, and that the general style and form of the music has shifted from the grander and more expansive praise hymns and songs to music that is a bit quieter, a bit more ancient, a bit more hushed and subdued.
We do not sing the great “Glory to God in the Highest!” acclamation of praise during Advent; instead, we choose to sing the ancient Greek “Kyrie Eleison” where we normally recite the same text in English: Lord have mercy, Christ have mercy, Lord have mercy.
We also choose to sing the ancient chanted “Agnus Dei” Gregorian Chant as the presider breaks the Eucharistic Bread. Many will know this well from their own childhoods, and all our parish second graders learn it for their First Communion each year. However, since I know there are folks who are unfamiliar with it and wonder about those strange Latin words that we are singing...
Just as when we sang in English, we sing the first line (“Lamb of God, you take away the sin of the world, have mercy on us.”) twice, and the third time we end with the supplication, “grant us peace.” (It is number 320 in the hymnal.)
The world in silence waits the day
When hope shall sing its triumph,
And sadness flee away!
French Carol, 16th century
The First Sunday in Advent: Happy New Year!
Advent marks the beginning of the new liturgical year—you’ll notice that today we have new Word and Song books in the pews, and that the general style and form of the music has shifted from the grander and more expansive praise hymns and songs to music that is a bit quieter, a bit more ancient, a bit more hushed and subdued.
We do not sing the great “Glory to God in the Highest!” acclamation of praise during Advent; instead, we choose to sing the ancient Greek “Kyrie Eleison” where we normally recite the same text in English: Lord have mercy, Christ have mercy, Lord have mercy.
We also choose to sing the ancient chanted “Agnus Dei” Gregorian Chant as the presider breaks the Eucharistic Bread. Many will know this well from their own childhoods, and all our parish second graders learn it for their First Communion each year. However, since I know there are folks who are unfamiliar with it and wonder about those strange Latin words that we are singing...
Just as when we sang in English, we sing the first line (“Lamb of God, you take away the sin of the world, have mercy on us.”) twice, and the third time we end with the supplication, “grant us peace.” (It is number 320 in the hymnal.)
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Advent Lessons and Carols: December 7, 7pm
Rejoice! Rejoice!
Emmanuel shall come to thee,
O Israel!
Based on “O” Antiphons,
Latin, 9th century
Mark your calendars…December 7 at 7pm!
Today we celebrate the Solemnity of Christ the King, the last Sunday in the church year...next Sunday we begin our Advent season of waiting and anticipation.
While the holiday season outside the parish is full of frenetic busy-ness, the Church calls us to spend time in prayer, seeking simplicity and calm as we prepare our hearts to receive Christ into the world. Thanksgiving is not even here yet, but already the barrage of secular holiday songs has begun.
Why not take a break from all the noise and clutter to spend some time in prayer and song, listening to the stories of our faith, in the traditional format of Advent Lessons and Carols? We will gather in church on December 7, at 7pm, for about an hour, in prayer and song. Familiar Advent hymns will be sung by all who are gathered there, and the choir will offer several pieces of choral music in anticipation of Christ’s coming. (No, they won’t be “Christmas” carols—not yet!—but they will be songs beloved and known to us as praying Catholics.)
Find peace amidst the noise! Come sing with us!
Emmanuel shall come to thee,
O Israel!
Based on “O” Antiphons,
Latin, 9th century
Mark your calendars…December 7 at 7pm!
Today we celebrate the Solemnity of Christ the King, the last Sunday in the church year...next Sunday we begin our Advent season of waiting and anticipation.
While the holiday season outside the parish is full of frenetic busy-ness, the Church calls us to spend time in prayer, seeking simplicity and calm as we prepare our hearts to receive Christ into the world. Thanksgiving is not even here yet, but already the barrage of secular holiday songs has begun.
Why not take a break from all the noise and clutter to spend some time in prayer and song, listening to the stories of our faith, in the traditional format of Advent Lessons and Carols? We will gather in church on December 7, at 7pm, for about an hour, in prayer and song. Familiar Advent hymns will be sung by all who are gathered there, and the choir will offer several pieces of choral music in anticipation of Christ’s coming. (No, they won’t be “Christmas” carols—not yet!—but they will be songs beloved and known to us as praying Catholics.)
Find peace amidst the noise! Come sing with us!
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Music Ministry Series: Part VI (Communion Song)
Come to the Banquet, come to the feast,
Eat the bread of life!
Share in the singing, share in the joy,
Drink the cup of love!
From “Come to the Banquet,” James J. Chepponis, b. 1956,
© 2000 by GIA Publications, Inc.
The Communion Song
So...we come together, this Sunday as every Sunday, a community in Christ. We have gathered at the Table of the Word to experience Christ’s presence in Sacred Scripture. We have offered our community’s prayers to the Lord, and we have brought forth our community’s gifts. Our priest celebrant has, on our behalf, offered prayers of praise and thanksgiving, and called upon God to send the Holy Spirit down upon our humble gifts of bread and wine, so that that same Spirit might transform them into Christ’s own Body and Blood. And then we move forward, together, to share in this wonderful banquet—we take the Body of Christ into ourselves, and become what we receive.
From a music ministry standpoint, the song we sing at Communion is one of the most challenging of the entire liturgy. People are walking to Communion, moving in and out of pews, picking up and putting down hymnals...many people wish to spend time in silent prayer before and after receiving. In many ways it would be much easier if the music at Communion time were just offered by the choir or cantor. However, the documents on the liturgy clearly invite us to sing together, as an assembly, at this time: “[the Communion song’s] purpose is to express the communicants' union in spirit by means of the unity of their voices, to show joy of heart, and to highlight more clearly the ‘communitarian’ nature of the procession to receive Communion.” (General Instruction on the Roman Missal, #86)
That’s a powerful statement! It is also a clear indication that music in the liturgy is about much more than adding beauty, or making the Mass lovely to listen to—the act of singing together, our Church teaches us, is itself a symbol of the very Communion we gather to receive. We don’t go to Communion in this way simply because it is the most efficient way—we process, a people walking together, singing together, receiving together, being changed together.
This is why, at Communion time, the music we sing is usually in “song” form—it has an easily singable refrain, one which hopefully has been used often enough that most people can sing it from memory as they walk to Communion and return after receiving. Songs like “Take and Eat,” “Draw Near,” or “Blest are They,” just to name a few, are perfect choices: they are flexible enough to invite people to sing or give them time to listen and pray, and they remind us of who we are: the Body of Christ in the world, rejoicing in Jesus’ great gift of Himself.
Eat the bread of life!
Share in the singing, share in the joy,
Drink the cup of love!
From “Come to the Banquet,” James J. Chepponis, b. 1956,
© 2000 by GIA Publications, Inc.
The Communion Song
So...we come together, this Sunday as every Sunday, a community in Christ. We have gathered at the Table of the Word to experience Christ’s presence in Sacred Scripture. We have offered our community’s prayers to the Lord, and we have brought forth our community’s gifts. Our priest celebrant has, on our behalf, offered prayers of praise and thanksgiving, and called upon God to send the Holy Spirit down upon our humble gifts of bread and wine, so that that same Spirit might transform them into Christ’s own Body and Blood. And then we move forward, together, to share in this wonderful banquet—we take the Body of Christ into ourselves, and become what we receive.
From a music ministry standpoint, the song we sing at Communion is one of the most challenging of the entire liturgy. People are walking to Communion, moving in and out of pews, picking up and putting down hymnals...many people wish to spend time in silent prayer before and after receiving. In many ways it would be much easier if the music at Communion time were just offered by the choir or cantor. However, the documents on the liturgy clearly invite us to sing together, as an assembly, at this time: “[the Communion song’s] purpose is to express the communicants' union in spirit by means of the unity of their voices, to show joy of heart, and to highlight more clearly the ‘communitarian’ nature of the procession to receive Communion.” (General Instruction on the Roman Missal, #86)
That’s a powerful statement! It is also a clear indication that music in the liturgy is about much more than adding beauty, or making the Mass lovely to listen to—the act of singing together, our Church teaches us, is itself a symbol of the very Communion we gather to receive. We don’t go to Communion in this way simply because it is the most efficient way—we process, a people walking together, singing together, receiving together, being changed together.
This is why, at Communion time, the music we sing is usually in “song” form—it has an easily singable refrain, one which hopefully has been used often enough that most people can sing it from memory as they walk to Communion and return after receiving. Songs like “Take and Eat,” “Draw Near,” or “Blest are They,” just to name a few, are perfect choices: they are flexible enough to invite people to sing or give them time to listen and pray, and they remind us of who we are: the Body of Christ in the world, rejoicing in Jesus’ great gift of Himself.
Monday, October 27, 2008
In Paradisum...
May the angels lead you into Paradise;
May the martyrs come to welcome you,
And take you to the holy city:
The new and eternal Jerusalem!
In Paradisum, Rite of Funerals
Singing Death to New Life
On this Sunday when we celebrate the souls who have gone before us into God’s loving embrace, I’d like to take a pause in our weekly “about the Music Ministry” series to recognize a remarkable group of men and women whose ministry often goes unnoticed and unrecognized. Most parishioners may not even know that they exist, until the moment when they gather in the parish church with their family for a loved one’s funeral.
I am speaking of our parish Resurrection Choir. This group of music ministers consists mostly of retired parishioners, or those whose weekday work schedules are flexible. Some are members of one of the other parish musical ensembles, but for many this is their only opportunity to minister through music. Whenever a funeral is scheduled, a chain of phone calls goes out to the various members; everyone who is available on any given day arrives half an hour prior to the service to warm up their voices, put on robes, and rehearse a bit. They graciously re-arrange choral parts to make sure everything will be well-heard and well-sung (on a day when we have 8 sopranos and only one alto, some flexibility and adjustment is helpful!), they rehearse anything that may be unfamiliar at a given funeral, and sometimes they spend some time learning a new piece of music or a new harmony part, to help the group continue growing and deepening its skills. As mourners begin to arrive, they will frequently offer a choral “prelude” to the Mass, helping those who are gathered to find a place of peace and prayer.
Sometimes the 10-20 members of the choir raise their voices to a full church; sometimes the dozen or so in the choir outnumber a smaller group of mourners. Sometimes they go weeks without singing together, and some weeks the group may gather four or five times, or even twice in one day. But I can truly say, as Music Director, that I have never met a more prayerful, humble, committed group of musicians and believers, and it is my privilege to know and make music with them, to stand by their side in singing our beloved dead home to the God who loves us all.
Whether or not you see them, you should know they are there. And please offer a prayer for their continued ministry, as they continue to sing and pray for all of us.
May the martyrs come to welcome you,
And take you to the holy city:
The new and eternal Jerusalem!
In Paradisum, Rite of Funerals
Singing Death to New Life
On this Sunday when we celebrate the souls who have gone before us into God’s loving embrace, I’d like to take a pause in our weekly “about the Music Ministry” series to recognize a remarkable group of men and women whose ministry often goes unnoticed and unrecognized. Most parishioners may not even know that they exist, until the moment when they gather in the parish church with their family for a loved one’s funeral.
I am speaking of our parish Resurrection Choir. This group of music ministers consists mostly of retired parishioners, or those whose weekday work schedules are flexible. Some are members of one of the other parish musical ensembles, but for many this is their only opportunity to minister through music. Whenever a funeral is scheduled, a chain of phone calls goes out to the various members; everyone who is available on any given day arrives half an hour prior to the service to warm up their voices, put on robes, and rehearse a bit. They graciously re-arrange choral parts to make sure everything will be well-heard and well-sung (on a day when we have 8 sopranos and only one alto, some flexibility and adjustment is helpful!), they rehearse anything that may be unfamiliar at a given funeral, and sometimes they spend some time learning a new piece of music or a new harmony part, to help the group continue growing and deepening its skills. As mourners begin to arrive, they will frequently offer a choral “prelude” to the Mass, helping those who are gathered to find a place of peace and prayer.
Sometimes the 10-20 members of the choir raise their voices to a full church; sometimes the dozen or so in the choir outnumber a smaller group of mourners. Sometimes they go weeks without singing together, and some weeks the group may gather four or five times, or even twice in one day. But I can truly say, as Music Director, that I have never met a more prayerful, humble, committed group of musicians and believers, and it is my privilege to know and make music with them, to stand by their side in singing our beloved dead home to the God who loves us all.
Whether or not you see them, you should know they are there. And please offer a prayer for their continued ministry, as they continue to sing and pray for all of us.
Monday, October 20, 2008
Music Ministry Series: Part V (Responsorial Psalm)
“Forever I will sing the goodness of the Lord!”
Psalm 89:2
The Responsorial Psalm
The Responsorial Psalm, sung between the first and second reading, holds a special place within the liturgy—a place not shared by any other action of the music ministry. For in this moment the cantor becomes not so much a music minister as a Minister of the Word—the sung Word. It is for this reason that the psalm is normally proclaimed from the ambo, where Scripture is read, rather than the cantor’s more accustomed place at the cantor stand—here, he or she is not merely singing, here the cantor is proclaiming the Word of God.
These exquisite scriptural pieces of poetry are ancient and deeply beautiful; they were certainly known to and prayed by Jesus himself, as a familiar and deeply valued part of the Jewish holy texts. These 150 poems span the depth and width of human emotions—they sing of praise, of lament, of anger, of love, of war, of sorrow, of joy, of betrayal, of trust...anything we feel now, today, in our lives, was probably felt and sung about by the ancient psalmists.
While other pieces of music in the liturgy may be changed or chosen from week to week, the Responsorial Psalm functions as part of the proclamation of Scripture. As such, each week the Lectionary contains a particular psalm or portion of a psalm that was selected specifically to expand upon or respond to the themes in the first reading. While sometimes we may shift the psalm slightly or change to a “seasonal” psalm setting for Advent or Lent, generally the cantor/psalmist will lead the singing of the “proper” chosen psalm for the week.
When we say that the psalm is “responsorial,” we are not referring to its position as a “response” to the first reading (though it often functions as such.) “Responsorial” refers to the way it is sung, with the cantor intoning the brief refrain and the assembly “responding” by singing it back. (The Gospel Acclamation “Alleluia” is also sung “responsorially,” you may notice.) The cantor then sings the inner verses, the scriptural heart of the psalm, and invites the “response” of the assembly after each verse. When a choir is present to add support or the assembly’s familiarity with the psalm is particularly strong, you may even notice the cantor not singing the assembly refrain with you. (This is our goal, eventually, for all liturgies, so that the singing of the psalm may be the dialogue it is intended to be—and for any dialogue to occur, one person must speak and then stop speaking so that another may take a turn. )
So over the next few weeks, I invite you to listen closely: try to hear how your own moment in the psalm echoes your response to the spoken Word, and calls out to millennia of believers before you who have done the same.
Psalm 89:2
The Responsorial Psalm
The Responsorial Psalm, sung between the first and second reading, holds a special place within the liturgy—a place not shared by any other action of the music ministry. For in this moment the cantor becomes not so much a music minister as a Minister of the Word—the sung Word. It is for this reason that the psalm is normally proclaimed from the ambo, where Scripture is read, rather than the cantor’s more accustomed place at the cantor stand—here, he or she is not merely singing, here the cantor is proclaiming the Word of God.
These exquisite scriptural pieces of poetry are ancient and deeply beautiful; they were certainly known to and prayed by Jesus himself, as a familiar and deeply valued part of the Jewish holy texts. These 150 poems span the depth and width of human emotions—they sing of praise, of lament, of anger, of love, of war, of sorrow, of joy, of betrayal, of trust...anything we feel now, today, in our lives, was probably felt and sung about by the ancient psalmists.
While other pieces of music in the liturgy may be changed or chosen from week to week, the Responsorial Psalm functions as part of the proclamation of Scripture. As such, each week the Lectionary contains a particular psalm or portion of a psalm that was selected specifically to expand upon or respond to the themes in the first reading. While sometimes we may shift the psalm slightly or change to a “seasonal” psalm setting for Advent or Lent, generally the cantor/psalmist will lead the singing of the “proper” chosen psalm for the week.
When we say that the psalm is “responsorial,” we are not referring to its position as a “response” to the first reading (though it often functions as such.) “Responsorial” refers to the way it is sung, with the cantor intoning the brief refrain and the assembly “responding” by singing it back. (The Gospel Acclamation “Alleluia” is also sung “responsorially,” you may notice.) The cantor then sings the inner verses, the scriptural heart of the psalm, and invites the “response” of the assembly after each verse. When a choir is present to add support or the assembly’s familiarity with the psalm is particularly strong, you may even notice the cantor not singing the assembly refrain with you. (This is our goal, eventually, for all liturgies, so that the singing of the psalm may be the dialogue it is intended to be—and for any dialogue to occur, one person must speak and then stop speaking so that another may take a turn. )
So over the next few weeks, I invite you to listen closely: try to hear how your own moment in the psalm echoes your response to the spoken Word, and calls out to millennia of believers before you who have done the same.
Music Ministry Series: Part IV (Hymns and Songs)
Hymn, Song, Chant—what’s the difference?
It’s easy to become confused about the different terms that get thrown around regarding what it is we are singing at any given moment...Sometimes we sing an “Opening Hymn,” sometimes it’s a “Communion Song”...and then there’s that word “chant” that gets used from time to time.
So, let us take a moment to look at some of the different words and try to sort them out.
Most of the liturgical documents from Rome, as well as from the U.S. Bishops, use the word “chant” to describe anything we sing in the liturgy. For us this term tends to conjure up images of ethereal Latin-singing monks, slow and mystical music hearkening to a traditional and “high church” style of worship. While Gregorian Chant, this centuries-old form of church song, is still a traditional and beautiful form of sung prayer, when the documents refer to a “chant” they are simply translating the Latin word cantus—basically, “song” or “something sung.” It also can refer to any non-rhythmic unaccompanied speech-singing, such as when the priest chants “Through him, with him, in him…” or other texts through the liturgy. Generally, the more festive the occasion, the more the priest will choose to chant. (If he is comfortable chanting at all, that is—we are blessed to have some wonderful singing priests at our parish!)
So: what is the difference between a song and a hymn?
A hymn is usually a term for a specific kind of sacred song, one with several verses or stanzas (or, if you like, strophes). The melody will repeat several times, exactly the same, with different words for each verse. “I Come with Joy,” sung this week to open the liturgy, is a hymn. So is “Holy God, We Praise Thy Name”; so are most of our favorite Christmas carols— “Silent Night,” “Joy to the World,” “O Little Town of Bethlehem,” and so on.
The word song can be a bit more confusing, though. On the one hand, it can (like chant) refer to anything that is sung. But a piece of music in song form is very specific—this means that it may have verses like a hymn, but each ends with a chorus or refrain—a passage of music that comes back, with the same words, every time. Songs like “Here I Am, Lord” and “On Eagle’s Wings” are good examples of music in “song” form.
(But what about “O Come, All Ye Faithful,” another Christmas carol, you may ask? Just because it has the repeating refrain “O come, let us adore him,” does that mean it’s not a hymn?)
The good news—and I hope this is not a disappointment to those who have managed to read to the end of this column—is that when it really comes down to it, it doesn’t matter much. None of these terms is absolute, and very seldom will anyone be able to say “You’re wrong!” if you should refer to any piece of sacred music by almost any of these titles. This is just a little background given for the benefit of those who’ve asked the question in the past—call it what you will, just keep singing!
It’s easy to become confused about the different terms that get thrown around regarding what it is we are singing at any given moment...Sometimes we sing an “Opening Hymn,” sometimes it’s a “Communion Song”...and then there’s that word “chant” that gets used from time to time.
So, let us take a moment to look at some of the different words and try to sort them out.
Most of the liturgical documents from Rome, as well as from the U.S. Bishops, use the word “chant” to describe anything we sing in the liturgy. For us this term tends to conjure up images of ethereal Latin-singing monks, slow and mystical music hearkening to a traditional and “high church” style of worship. While Gregorian Chant, this centuries-old form of church song, is still a traditional and beautiful form of sung prayer, when the documents refer to a “chant” they are simply translating the Latin word cantus—basically, “song” or “something sung.” It also can refer to any non-rhythmic unaccompanied speech-singing, such as when the priest chants “Through him, with him, in him…” or other texts through the liturgy. Generally, the more festive the occasion, the more the priest will choose to chant. (If he is comfortable chanting at all, that is—we are blessed to have some wonderful singing priests at our parish!)
So: what is the difference between a song and a hymn?
A hymn is usually a term for a specific kind of sacred song, one with several verses or stanzas (or, if you like, strophes). The melody will repeat several times, exactly the same, with different words for each verse. “I Come with Joy,” sung this week to open the liturgy, is a hymn. So is “Holy God, We Praise Thy Name”; so are most of our favorite Christmas carols— “Silent Night,” “Joy to the World,” “O Little Town of Bethlehem,” and so on.
The word song can be a bit more confusing, though. On the one hand, it can (like chant) refer to anything that is sung. But a piece of music in song form is very specific—this means that it may have verses like a hymn, but each ends with a chorus or refrain—a passage of music that comes back, with the same words, every time. Songs like “Here I Am, Lord” and “On Eagle’s Wings” are good examples of music in “song” form.
(But what about “O Come, All Ye Faithful,” another Christmas carol, you may ask? Just because it has the repeating refrain “O come, let us adore him,” does that mean it’s not a hymn?)
The good news—and I hope this is not a disappointment to those who have managed to read to the end of this column—is that when it really comes down to it, it doesn’t matter much. None of these terms is absolute, and very seldom will anyone be able to say “You’re wrong!” if you should refer to any piece of sacred music by almost any of these titles. This is just a little background given for the benefit of those who’ve asked the question in the past—call it what you will, just keep singing!
Music Ministry Series: Part III (Acclamations)
“Holy, holy, holy Lord God of power and might! Heaven and earth are full of your glory; Hosanna in the highest!”
From the Order of Mass, Preface Acclamation
Singing the Acclamations
Webster’s Dictionary defines “acclamation” as “A shout of approbation, favor, or assent; eager expression of approval.”
When we sing, just as when we pray, we approach God with different attitudes at different moments. Sometimes we come with petitions or requests. Sometimes we come with thanksgiving. Sometimes we approach in silent contemplation. And there are several moments in our liturgy known as “acclamations,” joyful shouts of praise for our great and magnificent God.
If you pay attention to our songs during the liturgy, you’ll notice that many of them accompany some action—a procession, the preparation of the table, the breaking of the host before Communion—and that the music is geared to last as long as the ritual action it accompanies lasts. Our Acclamations are different—these are sung moments in the liturgy where the purpose of our song is simply to praise God, to acclaim God, to give joyful assent to God’s work and presence among us.
Every week, at the beginning of the Eucharistic Prayer, we sing some version of “Holy, holy, holy, Lord God of hosts!” When the priest invites us to “proclaim the mystery of our faith,” we cry out, “Christ has died! Christ is risen! Christ will come again!” or a similar acclamation. In seasons outside of Lent and Advent, near the beginning of our liturgies, we sing, “Glory to God in the highest, and peace to God’s people on earth!” And as we prepare to listen to the Gospel (this acclamation also accompanies a procession!), we cry out “Alleluia!” or, in Lent, “Praise and honor to you, Lord Jesus Christ!”
This Sunday, as we join in singing these familiar—maybe too familiar!—words, try to move out of habit and really listen for what they contain, what the words are saying, and to what of God’s great works they give praise and assent!
From the Order of Mass, Preface Acclamation
Singing the Acclamations
Webster’s Dictionary defines “acclamation” as “A shout of approbation, favor, or assent; eager expression of approval.”
When we sing, just as when we pray, we approach God with different attitudes at different moments. Sometimes we come with petitions or requests. Sometimes we come with thanksgiving. Sometimes we approach in silent contemplation. And there are several moments in our liturgy known as “acclamations,” joyful shouts of praise for our great and magnificent God.
If you pay attention to our songs during the liturgy, you’ll notice that many of them accompany some action—a procession, the preparation of the table, the breaking of the host before Communion—and that the music is geared to last as long as the ritual action it accompanies lasts. Our Acclamations are different—these are sung moments in the liturgy where the purpose of our song is simply to praise God, to acclaim God, to give joyful assent to God’s work and presence among us.
Every week, at the beginning of the Eucharistic Prayer, we sing some version of “Holy, holy, holy, Lord God of hosts!” When the priest invites us to “proclaim the mystery of our faith,” we cry out, “Christ has died! Christ is risen! Christ will come again!” or a similar acclamation. In seasons outside of Lent and Advent, near the beginning of our liturgies, we sing, “Glory to God in the highest, and peace to God’s people on earth!” And as we prepare to listen to the Gospel (this acclamation also accompanies a procession!), we cry out “Alleluia!” or, in Lent, “Praise and honor to you, Lord Jesus Christ!”
This Sunday, as we join in singing these familiar—maybe too familiar!—words, try to move out of habit and really listen for what they contain, what the words are saying, and to what of God’s great works they give praise and assent!
Music Ministry Series: Part II (Opening Song)
“Let us build a house where all are named,
Their songs and visions heard
And loved and treasured, taught and claimed
As words within the Word…”
“All are Welcome,” text by Marty Haugen
©1994, GIA Publications, Inc.
Opening Song
What is the first thing we do each week when we gather for worship? We sing. Whether we call it the Opening Hymn, the Gathering Song, or the Processional, the first song of the liturgy has three main purposes (paraphrased from the General Instruction of the Roman Missal, #47):
· To open the celebration and foster our unity as a people worshiping together,
· To begin to awaken us to the themes and images of the liturgy or season, and
· To accompany the presider and ministers as they process into the church.
If we reduce the opening song to that third reason, as simply “traveling music” for the liturgical ministers in procession, we’ve missed the point! Look at the first reason given in the Instruction: we sing so that we may be united in celebration. That is why, even if the choir may sing a prelude prior to the liturgy , the opening song is always a song intended for the entire assembly to sing—and whenever possible, it is something most of know well and can sing out fully and with strength.
If we look a little deeper (and if the music ministers are doing our jobs well!) and listen to the texts we sing in the opening song—in all the songs, really!—we should be able to already have some idea of where the readings and prayers of the day will take us. During Ordinary Time, which we are now journeying through, the songs will most often have themes of gathering and welcome, unity and praise and trust in our loving God. During the seasons of Advent and Lent, the opening songs will often be more subdued, helping quiet our souls into a place of expectant preparation. During Christmas and Easter seasons, these songs will be even more explosively joyful…
As St. Augustine said, “You should sing as wayfarers do—sing, but continue the journey...Sing to make your journey more enjoyable. Sing...but keep on going!”
...next week: Acclamations! (Gloria, Sanctus, and more…)
Their songs and visions heard
And loved and treasured, taught and claimed
As words within the Word…”
“All are Welcome,” text by Marty Haugen
©1994, GIA Publications, Inc.
Opening Song
What is the first thing we do each week when we gather for worship? We sing. Whether we call it the Opening Hymn, the Gathering Song, or the Processional, the first song of the liturgy has three main purposes (paraphrased from the General Instruction of the Roman Missal, #47):
· To open the celebration and foster our unity as a people worshiping together,
· To begin to awaken us to the themes and images of the liturgy or season, and
· To accompany the presider and ministers as they process into the church.
If we reduce the opening song to that third reason, as simply “traveling music” for the liturgical ministers in procession, we’ve missed the point! Look at the first reason given in the Instruction: we sing so that we may be united in celebration. That is why, even if the choir may sing a prelude prior to the liturgy , the opening song is always a song intended for the entire assembly to sing—and whenever possible, it is something most of know well and can sing out fully and with strength.
If we look a little deeper (and if the music ministers are doing our jobs well!) and listen to the texts we sing in the opening song—in all the songs, really!—we should be able to already have some idea of where the readings and prayers of the day will take us. During Ordinary Time, which we are now journeying through, the songs will most often have themes of gathering and welcome, unity and praise and trust in our loving God. During the seasons of Advent and Lent, the opening songs will often be more subdued, helping quiet our souls into a place of expectant preparation. During Christmas and Easter seasons, these songs will be even more explosively joyful…
As St. Augustine said, “You should sing as wayfarers do—sing, but continue the journey...Sing to make your journey more enjoyable. Sing...but keep on going!”
...next week: Acclamations! (Gloria, Sanctus, and more…)
Music Ministry Series: Part I
“I sing because I’m happy,
And I sing because I’m free.
His eye is on the sparrow, and I know he watches me.”
From an African-American hymn, text by Civilla Martin; music by Charles Gabriel
Why do we sing?
Singing is a fundamental, natural human activity. During the time when I taught music in an elementary school, I remember one day asking the kindergarten class, “Who in here is a good singer?” Every single child raised his or her hand. My curiosity piqued, I asked the same question of the fourth graders: about half the hands went up, many haltingly or as though they weren’t sure. I asked the seventh grade. The only hand that went up was from a boy wanting to be excused to go to the washroom (for the second time that class).
We all start life as singers, with a natural joy in raising up our voices together or as individuals, but somewhere along the way we begin to get the message that singing is only for the very special, or the extremely gifted, or the most talented among us. We begin to believe that the only people who should sing are those who are “good enough” do to it professionally.
The Church has a different vision:
“God has bestowed upon his people the gift of song. God dwells within each human person, in the place where music takes its source. Indeed, God, the giver of song, is present whenever his people sing his praises. A cry from deep within our being, music is a way for God to lead us to the realm of higher things. As St. Augustine says, “Singing is for the one who loves.” Music is therefore a sign of God’s love for us and of our love for him. In this sense, it is very personal. But unless music sounds, it is not music, and whenever it sounds, it is accessible to others. By its very nature song has both an individual and a communal dimension. Thus, it is no wonder that singing together in church expresses so well the sacramental presence of God to his people...The quality of our participation in such sung praise comes less from our vocal ability than from the desire of our hearts to sing together of our love for God. ”
This quote is taken from the opening paragraphs of the U.S. Bishops’ document “Sing to the Lord,” (the full text can be found at www.usccb.org/liturgy/SingToTheLord.pdf). It gives a beautiful image for our gathered song and makes it a true metaphor of our gathering: we gather, each of us, individuals but united. Together we raise up whatever gifts we have, however imperfect they are...and in the raising, and in the unity and love of the community, they become beauty. Ask anyone in the music ministry—your parish choirs are filled with people who sing not because they feel themselves particularly worthy, but because they Love. And every person in the church who picks up a hymnal and raises their voice—even a little—contributes to the beauty of the whole. God is present in our gathering, in our song, in our worship together.
And I sing because I’m free.
His eye is on the sparrow, and I know he watches me.”
From an African-American hymn, text by Civilla Martin; music by Charles Gabriel
Why do we sing?
Singing is a fundamental, natural human activity. During the time when I taught music in an elementary school, I remember one day asking the kindergarten class, “Who in here is a good singer?” Every single child raised his or her hand. My curiosity piqued, I asked the same question of the fourth graders: about half the hands went up, many haltingly or as though they weren’t sure. I asked the seventh grade. The only hand that went up was from a boy wanting to be excused to go to the washroom (for the second time that class).
We all start life as singers, with a natural joy in raising up our voices together or as individuals, but somewhere along the way we begin to get the message that singing is only for the very special, or the extremely gifted, or the most talented among us. We begin to believe that the only people who should sing are those who are “good enough” do to it professionally.
The Church has a different vision:
“God has bestowed upon his people the gift of song. God dwells within each human person, in the place where music takes its source. Indeed, God, the giver of song, is present whenever his people sing his praises. A cry from deep within our being, music is a way for God to lead us to the realm of higher things. As St. Augustine says, “Singing is for the one who loves.” Music is therefore a sign of God’s love for us and of our love for him. In this sense, it is very personal. But unless music sounds, it is not music, and whenever it sounds, it is accessible to others. By its very nature song has both an individual and a communal dimension. Thus, it is no wonder that singing together in church expresses so well the sacramental presence of God to his people...The quality of our participation in such sung praise comes less from our vocal ability than from the desire of our hearts to sing together of our love for God. ”
This quote is taken from the opening paragraphs of the U.S. Bishops’ document “Sing to the Lord,” (the full text can be found at www.usccb.org/liturgy/SingToTheLord.pdf). It gives a beautiful image for our gathered song and makes it a true metaphor of our gathering: we gather, each of us, individuals but united. Together we raise up whatever gifts we have, however imperfect they are...and in the raising, and in the unity and love of the community, they become beauty. Ask anyone in the music ministry—your parish choirs are filled with people who sing not because they feel themselves particularly worthy, but because they Love. And every person in the church who picks up a hymnal and raises their voice—even a little—contributes to the beauty of the whole. God is present in our gathering, in our song, in our worship together.
Music Ministry Series: Intro
In case you’ve ever wondered...
Shortly after Fr. David Dowdle came to St. John of the Cross, he offered parishioners the opportunity to “Ask the Pastor” any questions they had about the church, the parish, our worship, and so forth. A surprising number of the questions that came in revolved around the large area of music in worship—questions about why we sing, what we sing, who sings, when we sing—the whole gamut.
Therefore we’ve decided to open up a little section of the bulletin each week for news and information regarding both the specifics of this parish’s music ministry and the whole idea of music ministry in general. If you have a question about the things we do in the music ministry, please let us know, and we’ll try to get it answered!
In the meantime, we will try to address some of the generalities of music ministry and sung prayer, going back to the sources of our faith and the documents of the Church, particularly the writings from the Second Vatican Council. Drawing on our rich heritage and tradition as Church, we will take a look at what we do musically, why we do it, and how music shapes our worship—hopefully in an interesting and engaging way! Enjoy!
Peace,
Jennifer Kerr Budziak
Shortly after Fr. David Dowdle came to St. John of the Cross, he offered parishioners the opportunity to “Ask the Pastor” any questions they had about the church, the parish, our worship, and so forth. A surprising number of the questions that came in revolved around the large area of music in worship—questions about why we sing, what we sing, who sings, when we sing—the whole gamut.
Therefore we’ve decided to open up a little section of the bulletin each week for news and information regarding both the specifics of this parish’s music ministry and the whole idea of music ministry in general. If you have a question about the things we do in the music ministry, please let us know, and we’ll try to get it answered!
In the meantime, we will try to address some of the generalities of music ministry and sung prayer, going back to the sources of our faith and the documents of the Church, particularly the writings from the Second Vatican Council. Drawing on our rich heritage and tradition as Church, we will take a look at what we do musically, why we do it, and how music shapes our worship—hopefully in an interesting and engaging way! Enjoy!
Peace,
Jennifer Kerr Budziak
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
New US Bishops Document on Music
Sing to the Lord, the new incarnation of "Music in Catholic Worship" (only much longer and more thorough!) is up on the USCCB website:
http://www.usccb.org/liturgy/SingToTheLord.pdf
I have printed it and started to read the final draft, but I haven't gotten far yet. It's Advent, after all...
peace,
Jennifer
http://www.usccb.org/liturgy/SingToTheLord.pdf
I have printed it and started to read the final draft, but I haven't gotten far yet. It's Advent, after all...
peace,
Jennifer
Soul of Genius
Neither a lofty degree of intelligence
nor imagination nor both together
go to the making of genius.
Love, love, love, that is the soul of genius.
--W. A. Mozart
Clearly my attempts at a weekly blog about why and how music is planned fell by the wayside right about at the moment the choral/liturgical season got busy. But I will keep trying, at least in little bits...
The 10:45 choir will be leading a Lessons and Carols service for Advent, this coming Sunday evening at 7pm. For the first time, although this is our third or fourth year, we've actually had adequate publicity and announcements and such, so I actually have hope in a decent crowd...
Advent Lessons and Carols
Sunday, December 9, 2007 7:00pm
Processional: Prepare the Way of the Lord (Taizé) (Gather Comp. 330)
Greeting
Opening Prayer (chanted) (All are seated)
First Lesson: Genesis 3:8-15
Choir: Lo, How a Rose (Gather Comp. 373) (2 verses)
My mother, fifty-odd years out of Catholic school, can still sing the alto part to this piece...I know there are tons of different arrangements of it out there, but I can't imagine ever moving from this one.
Carol: Creator of the Stars of Night (Gather Comp. 334) (4 verses)
Second Lesson: Isaiah 9:1-6
Choir: Crown Him King of Kings (Bach)
Our old noisy Bach friend--huge, happy, unapologetic, and the choir sounds great on it.
Carol: O Come, Divine Messiah (Gather Comp. 333)
Third Lesson: Isaiah 40:1-11
Choir: Prepare Ye (Robinson)
Awesome little piece, sort of jazzy-gospel-but-still-definitely-white-folks-singing in character, at least the way we do it--but it sounds Right this way. I heard it first at Ascension, and I loved it enough to order it 5 years later for this group. Sort of a lazy but implacable groove, with a kick-tail tenor solo on which Jeff completely wails...
Fourth Lesson: Haggai 2:6-9
Choir: Like those who watch for midnight’s hour (Bach) (Seven Lenten Chorales, “Out of the Depths,” vs 2)
Carol: The King Shall Come (Gather Comp. 347) (all verses)
Fifth Lesson: Isaiah 7:10-15
Carol: Maranatha, Lord Messiah (GC 324) (verses 1, 5, 6, 7)
Sixth Lesson: Baruch 4:36-5:9
Choir: Come, O Just One (Trapp)
My old friend Lynn Trapp--he's a man, by the way--did this lovely setting. Far more "Cathedral" than we usually are, very formal and Grand-sounding, but the choir's really rising to the occasion. Great fun.
Carol: People, Look East! (Gather Comp. 337) (all verses)
Gospel Acclamation: Advent Gospel Acclamations (verse for Advent IV Cycle A)
Seventh Lesson (The Gospel): Luke 1:26-35, 38 (chanted by Fr. Ken)
Choir: No Wind at the Window (Bell/Breedlove)
I seldom get to compose any more; I started this setting 2 years ago and finally actually completed it this year. It's a really nice strophic text about the Annunciation--vintage John Bell in style and syntax, which I happen to love--set to a haunting Gaelic (Scottish?) melody. I set it for SATB choir, and it's going well, although we've barely rehearsed it and we have to "perform" it this Sunday...I'm slightly petrified.
Intercessions: GC 277 (cantor and choir)
Closing Prayer
Closing Hymn: O Come, Emmanuel (Gather Comp. 323) (verses 1-4)
Y'all come on Sunday, hear?
peace,
Jennifer
nor imagination nor both together
go to the making of genius.
Love, love, love, that is the soul of genius.
--W. A. Mozart
Clearly my attempts at a weekly blog about why and how music is planned fell by the wayside right about at the moment the choral/liturgical season got busy. But I will keep trying, at least in little bits...
The 10:45 choir will be leading a Lessons and Carols service for Advent, this coming Sunday evening at 7pm. For the first time, although this is our third or fourth year, we've actually had adequate publicity and announcements and such, so I actually have hope in a decent crowd...
Advent Lessons and Carols
Sunday, December 9, 2007 7:00pm
Processional: Prepare the Way of the Lord (Taizé) (Gather Comp. 330)
Greeting
Opening Prayer (chanted) (All are seated)
First Lesson: Genesis 3:8-15
Choir: Lo, How a Rose (Gather Comp. 373) (2 verses)
My mother, fifty-odd years out of Catholic school, can still sing the alto part to this piece...I know there are tons of different arrangements of it out there, but I can't imagine ever moving from this one.
Carol: Creator of the Stars of Night (Gather Comp. 334) (4 verses)
Second Lesson: Isaiah 9:1-6
Choir: Crown Him King of Kings (Bach)
Our old noisy Bach friend--huge, happy, unapologetic, and the choir sounds great on it.
Carol: O Come, Divine Messiah (Gather Comp. 333)
Third Lesson: Isaiah 40:1-11
Choir: Prepare Ye (Robinson)
Awesome little piece, sort of jazzy-gospel-but-still-definitely-white-folks-singing in character, at least the way we do it--but it sounds Right this way. I heard it first at Ascension, and I loved it enough to order it 5 years later for this group. Sort of a lazy but implacable groove, with a kick-tail tenor solo on which Jeff completely wails...
Fourth Lesson: Haggai 2:6-9
Choir: Like those who watch for midnight’s hour (Bach) (Seven Lenten Chorales, “Out of the Depths,” vs 2)
Carol: The King Shall Come (Gather Comp. 347) (all verses)
Fifth Lesson: Isaiah 7:10-15
Carol: Maranatha, Lord Messiah (GC 324) (verses 1, 5, 6, 7)
Sixth Lesson: Baruch 4:36-5:9
Choir: Come, O Just One (Trapp)
My old friend Lynn Trapp--he's a man, by the way--did this lovely setting. Far more "Cathedral" than we usually are, very formal and Grand-sounding, but the choir's really rising to the occasion. Great fun.
Carol: People, Look East! (Gather Comp. 337) (all verses)
Gospel Acclamation: Advent Gospel Acclamations (verse for Advent IV Cycle A)
Seventh Lesson (The Gospel): Luke 1:26-35, 38 (chanted by Fr. Ken)
Choir: No Wind at the Window (Bell/Breedlove)
I seldom get to compose any more; I started this setting 2 years ago and finally actually completed it this year. It's a really nice strophic text about the Annunciation--vintage John Bell in style and syntax, which I happen to love--set to a haunting Gaelic (Scottish?) melody. I set it for SATB choir, and it's going well, although we've barely rehearsed it and we have to "perform" it this Sunday...I'm slightly petrified.
Intercessions: GC 277 (cantor and choir)
Closing Prayer
Closing Hymn: O Come, Emmanuel (Gather Comp. 323) (verses 1-4)
Y'all come on Sunday, hear?
peace,
Jennifer
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
Choir Director Humor
I love this little piece...if it is under copyright or anyone who reads this knows its source, I'd love to know...
A CHORISTER'S GUIDE TO KEEPING CONDUCTORS IN LINE
1. Never be satisfied with the starting pitch. If the conductor uses a pitch-pipe, make known your preference for pitches from the piano, and vice-versa.
2. Complain about the temperature of the rehearsal room, the lighting, crowded space, or a draft. It is best to do this when the conductor is under pressure.
3. Bury your head into the music just before the cues.
4. Ask for a re-audition or seating change. Ask often. Give the impression you are about to quit. Let the conductor know your are there as a personal favor.
5. Loudly clear your throat during pauses. (Tenors are trained to do this from birth.) Quiet instrumental interludes are a good chance to blow your nose.
6. Wait until well into a rehearsal before letting the conductor know that you do not have the music.
7. Look at your watch frequently. Shake it in disbelief occasionally.
8. Find an excuse to leave the rehearsal fifteen minutes early so that others will become restless and start to fidget.
9. Tell the conductor, "I can't find the beat." Conductors are always sensitive about their "stick technique," so challenge it frequently.
10. If your articulation differs from that of others, stick to your guns. Do not ask the conductor which is correct until backstage just before the concert.
(In other words, make every effort to take the attention away from the podium and put it on you, where it belongs.)
A CHORISTER'S GUIDE TO KEEPING CONDUCTORS IN LINE
1. Never be satisfied with the starting pitch. If the conductor uses a pitch-pipe, make known your preference for pitches from the piano, and vice-versa.
2. Complain about the temperature of the rehearsal room, the lighting, crowded space, or a draft. It is best to do this when the conductor is under pressure.
3. Bury your head into the music just before the cues.
4. Ask for a re-audition or seating change. Ask often. Give the impression you are about to quit. Let the conductor know your are there as a personal favor.
5. Loudly clear your throat during pauses. (Tenors are trained to do this from birth.) Quiet instrumental interludes are a good chance to blow your nose.
6. Wait until well into a rehearsal before letting the conductor know that you do not have the music.
7. Look at your watch frequently. Shake it in disbelief occasionally.
8. Find an excuse to leave the rehearsal fifteen minutes early so that others will become restless and start to fidget.
9. Tell the conductor, "I can't find the beat." Conductors are always sensitive about their "stick technique," so challenge it frequently.
10. If your articulation differs from that of others, stick to your guns. Do not ask the conductor which is correct until backstage just before the concert.
(In other words, make every effort to take the attention away from the podium and put it on you, where it belongs.)
Thursday, November 1, 2007
O Death, where is thy sting?
The other day my son came home from school, excited because that day his class had gotten to paint “sugar skulls.” Though I was already familiar with the custom, I asked him why they were painting these skulls: “For the Day of the Dead,” he said. “What is the Day of the Dead?” I asked him: “It’s the day when we can remember all our loving ones [sic] who have died and feel them close to us again.”
A child’s simplicity. The celebration of All Saints and All Souls, through the understanding of a five-year-old.
Our family lives in Berwyn, a suburb where the Latino population is abundant and thriving. "El Dia de los Muertos,” the Day of the Dead, is a Mexican cultural celebration which takes place each year from the Eve of All Saints (or All Hallows, i.e. Halloween) through All Souls’ Day. Though it focuses on our memories of those who have died, the focus is on joy and celebration—gifts are given, small holy places with trinkets and photos of the deceased are erected in homes, and images of skeletons and deaths-heads abound—in toys, in candy, in bread, in bright colors, in odd and paradoxical places.
To many of us from a Western European cultural background, this may seem inappropriate, almost morbid...but some years ago I spoke with some deeply faithful Mexican friends about this subject, and their answer was simple and profound: to make a piece of sugar candy or sweet bread in the shape of a skull and eat it, or to tell jokes and make silly toys out of the symbols of death, is to strip death of its power and mock its hold over us: “Death, where is your victory? Death, where is your sting?”
Which quote, of course, takes me directly to the Brahms German Requiem, in my opinion probably the single most glorious piece of choral music ever written, an exquisite melding of music and text and subliminal theology...I just adore it. The 6th movement starts out sort of tentatively and solemnly, and eventually bursts out into this glorious in-your-face challenge to death and hell--a grand and joyous explosion of excessive musical abundance crying out, "Tod! Tod! Wo ist dein Sieg?"...and then it dances off into a fugue that's at once merry and solemn, although a lot of conductors tend to skip the merry and take what is in my opinion a rather lugubrious approach to what I believe should be an extension of the wild cannot-be-denied-or-silenced joyful "giving of the (musical) bird" to all that we once feared and dreaded... a holy bacchanal, praising the God who strips even death of its strength, in which the participants become drunk not on bad tequila or cheap watery American beer but on the very essence of Life and its incredible joyous power...
Amazing music. St. Johannes, pray for us.
And while we're at it...St. Johann Sebastian, pray for us. St. Wolfgang Amadeus, pray for us. St. Thomas Stearns Eliot, pray for us. St. Joseph Bernadin, pray for us. St. Madeleine of Crosswicks, pray for us...
All holy men and women, pray for us.
peace,
Jennifer
A child’s simplicity. The celebration of All Saints and All Souls, through the understanding of a five-year-old.
Our family lives in Berwyn, a suburb where the Latino population is abundant and thriving. "El Dia de los Muertos,” the Day of the Dead, is a Mexican cultural celebration which takes place each year from the Eve of All Saints (or All Hallows, i.e. Halloween) through All Souls’ Day. Though it focuses on our memories of those who have died, the focus is on joy and celebration—gifts are given, small holy places with trinkets and photos of the deceased are erected in homes, and images of skeletons and deaths-heads abound—in toys, in candy, in bread, in bright colors, in odd and paradoxical places.
To many of us from a Western European cultural background, this may seem inappropriate, almost morbid...but some years ago I spoke with some deeply faithful Mexican friends about this subject, and their answer was simple and profound: to make a piece of sugar candy or sweet bread in the shape of a skull and eat it, or to tell jokes and make silly toys out of the symbols of death, is to strip death of its power and mock its hold over us: “Death, where is your victory? Death, where is your sting?”
Which quote, of course, takes me directly to the Brahms German Requiem, in my opinion probably the single most glorious piece of choral music ever written, an exquisite melding of music and text and subliminal theology...I just adore it. The 6th movement starts out sort of tentatively and solemnly, and eventually bursts out into this glorious in-your-face challenge to death and hell--a grand and joyous explosion of excessive musical abundance crying out, "Tod! Tod! Wo ist dein Sieg?"...and then it dances off into a fugue that's at once merry and solemn, although a lot of conductors tend to skip the merry and take what is in my opinion a rather lugubrious approach to what I believe should be an extension of the wild cannot-be-denied-or-silenced joyful "giving of the (musical) bird" to all that we once feared and dreaded... a holy bacchanal, praising the God who strips even death of its strength, in which the participants become drunk not on bad tequila or cheap watery American beer but on the very essence of Life and its incredible joyous power...
Amazing music. St. Johannes, pray for us.
And while we're at it...St. Johann Sebastian, pray for us. St. Wolfgang Amadeus, pray for us. St. Thomas Stearns Eliot, pray for us. St. Joseph Bernadin, pray for us. St. Madeleine of Crosswicks, pray for us...
All holy men and women, pray for us.
peace,
Jennifer
Friday, October 26, 2007
October 28th, 30th Sunday in Ordinary Time
How I blush! My good friend Rory Cooney quoted and invoked this blog in his own blog (a good one! Check it out-- http://web.mac.com/stannerory/iWeb/bloggage/New_Blog/New_Blog.html), inviting people to come over here and see what I'm doing...and I have missed the past two Sundays! Sigh...I look down and see the good intentions paving the road I'm on, and it makes me wonder where the road is headed...
I do have some small excuse...we've just been through the flurry of birthdays at my house, especially my little Bear's turning 5. One weekend we had the "actual" birthday (cupcakes for school, homemade cake for family, frenzied cleaning so that in-laws think my house is always that clean), the next we had the 15 screaming kids My Gym party (keeping track of RSVP's, ordering cake, buying party favors, overseeing thank you notes)...I don't know why I thought the mom gig would get easier as the kids got bigger.
But thanks to Rory's kind kick in the rear, I'll try to get back on track. So:
In contrast with the readings in the weeks before and after this one (I think next week we get the martyrdom of the woman and her seven sons...that's a joy to plan music for, NOT), I love this week. It's one of those lovely sets of readings where it all speaks to the same reality of faith and life as children of Christ: Sirach's promise that God will hear the prayer of the lowly, Paul's open trust in the uncertainty to come and gratitude for what has been, and especially the gloriously abject humility of the poor sad tax collector whom Jesus promises will be heard and exalted by God...it remindes me of Marguerite of Porete's vision of the soul so cast down and annihilated in her own reality that she becomes nothing more than the empty vessel and reflection of all that God is, with sorrow so deep that it is no longer sorrow, and joy so exalted that it transcends joy, and is it all simply God.
From this perspective, the music almost chooses itself:
October 28, 30th Sunday in Ordinary Time
Prelude (9:00--Youth Choir): A Place at the Table
The Ensemble sang this a few weeks ago; I think it will have a different impact as a prelude than at Prep or Communion as we usually use it: a call to everyone, young and old, just and unjust, and of the delight God takes in our efforts to look beyond ourselves and become "creators of justice and joy."
Opening: O Christ, the Great Foundation (at 9:00: Gathered as One)
I chose this one as much for verse 3 as for any of it, although the whole hymn is apt. It speaks of the oppression in the world and calls upon the church to "awaken" and strive to right the imbalances.
When the children's choir sings, we generally try to stay away from the very "wordy" strophic hymns, although they could probably have handled this one. "Gathered as one" is a really lovely contemporary Paul Tate song--I hate to use the word "generic," because nothing we do should be generic, but it's one of those songs that's almost always works.
Psalm: 34--The Cry of the Poor
This is where I'd definitely say go read Rory's blog for this week! I found his comments on Conry's comments about this song very interesting, but I don't know that I quite agree. For me, the very power in this song lies in the juxtaposition of what's essentially a very joyful and victorious text with a melody that's wistful or even outright sad. This psalm setting almost personifies this hopeful/sorrowful ambiguity in the readings for the Sunday, and the need to sing praise while owning our sadness that the vision is stil woefully incomplete, and musically it feels almost like the linchpin on which the whole liturgy's music depends.
Presentation: (at 9:00--Youth Choir: Bring Forth the Kingdom)
A joyful Beatitudes-based justics song--lots of fun, and the kids will be singing in canon, if enough of them show up to make it work!
other liturgies: Only This I Want
Okay, maybe not so joyful, but it's so gorgeous, and right out of the second reading. One of the "Glory and Praise" generation songs that well deserves to stick around for a few more decades at least! It's also one of the many songs I wish all these bloody liturgical tenor composers would take down a whole step or so. It's just too stinkin' high. Makes people stop singing. That's never a good thing. Put it in the same category as We have been Told, All who Hunger, We are Called, etc.
Communion: (at 5:00 Saturday--Ensemble: In You, O Lord, Ed Bolduc)
Another of Ed's more gorgeous offerings, incredibly simple, very effective. One of those comforting songs that sort of combs out one's tangles whether one wants it to happen or not.
Draw Near (Janco)
A parish favorite, in many ways also one of our more "all-purpose" Communion songs, but the whole invitation to "draw near, draw near" is very appropriate to this week and season--it speaks to the disgraced tax collector in all of us, the part that wants to hide in back and stay away, to hide the parts of us we think God shouldn't see...and yet we still are called to draw near, draw close, warts and all. (I find this very comforting; I'm feeling very spiritually warty this week.)
Closing: How can I Keep From Singing
I kind of feel like if anyone's read this far, they won't need me to say much about this song and why we're singing it!
It's been a rough couple of weeks, though I'm not really sure why. I haven't been sleeping enough, which is nothing new, but I can't bounce back from it the way I used to when I was younger. I had a birthday last weekend myself, and I'll go ahead and post it right here in black and white: I'm 39 years old. For some reason I find the "liminal" ages more threatening than the actual milestone years themselves--29 was hard, 30 was great. 20 was hard, 21 was great. Probably 40 will be absolutely fine, but 39 I'm finding somewhat traumatic.:-)
And I'll say it here for the record: when I turn 40 I want a cake big enough that it can have 40 candles, which I intend to blow out in one puff. That all may know I'm not even remotely decrepit. Yet.
peace,
Jennifer
I do have some small excuse...we've just been through the flurry of birthdays at my house, especially my little Bear's turning 5. One weekend we had the "actual" birthday (cupcakes for school, homemade cake for family, frenzied cleaning so that in-laws think my house is always that clean), the next we had the 15 screaming kids My Gym party (keeping track of RSVP's, ordering cake, buying party favors, overseeing thank you notes)...I don't know why I thought the mom gig would get easier as the kids got bigger.
But thanks to Rory's kind kick in the rear, I'll try to get back on track. So:
In contrast with the readings in the weeks before and after this one (I think next week we get the martyrdom of the woman and her seven sons...that's a joy to plan music for, NOT), I love this week. It's one of those lovely sets of readings where it all speaks to the same reality of faith and life as children of Christ: Sirach's promise that God will hear the prayer of the lowly, Paul's open trust in the uncertainty to come and gratitude for what has been, and especially the gloriously abject humility of the poor sad tax collector whom Jesus promises will be heard and exalted by God...it remindes me of Marguerite of Porete's vision of the soul so cast down and annihilated in her own reality that she becomes nothing more than the empty vessel and reflection of all that God is, with sorrow so deep that it is no longer sorrow, and joy so exalted that it transcends joy, and is it all simply God.
From this perspective, the music almost chooses itself:
October 28, 30th Sunday in Ordinary Time
Prelude (9:00--Youth Choir): A Place at the Table
The Ensemble sang this a few weeks ago; I think it will have a different impact as a prelude than at Prep or Communion as we usually use it: a call to everyone, young and old, just and unjust, and of the delight God takes in our efforts to look beyond ourselves and become "creators of justice and joy."
Opening: O Christ, the Great Foundation (at 9:00: Gathered as One)
I chose this one as much for verse 3 as for any of it, although the whole hymn is apt. It speaks of the oppression in the world and calls upon the church to "awaken" and strive to right the imbalances.
When the children's choir sings, we generally try to stay away from the very "wordy" strophic hymns, although they could probably have handled this one. "Gathered as one" is a really lovely contemporary Paul Tate song--I hate to use the word "generic," because nothing we do should be generic, but it's one of those songs that's almost always works.
Psalm: 34--The Cry of the Poor
This is where I'd definitely say go read Rory's blog for this week! I found his comments on Conry's comments about this song very interesting, but I don't know that I quite agree. For me, the very power in this song lies in the juxtaposition of what's essentially a very joyful and victorious text with a melody that's wistful or even outright sad. This psalm setting almost personifies this hopeful/sorrowful ambiguity in the readings for the Sunday, and the need to sing praise while owning our sadness that the vision is stil woefully incomplete, and musically it feels almost like the linchpin on which the whole liturgy's music depends.
Presentation: (at 9:00--Youth Choir: Bring Forth the Kingdom)
A joyful Beatitudes-based justics song--lots of fun, and the kids will be singing in canon, if enough of them show up to make it work!
other liturgies: Only This I Want
Okay, maybe not so joyful, but it's so gorgeous, and right out of the second reading. One of the "Glory and Praise" generation songs that well deserves to stick around for a few more decades at least! It's also one of the many songs I wish all these bloody liturgical tenor composers would take down a whole step or so. It's just too stinkin' high. Makes people stop singing. That's never a good thing. Put it in the same category as We have been Told, All who Hunger, We are Called, etc.
Communion: (at 5:00 Saturday--Ensemble: In You, O Lord, Ed Bolduc)
Another of Ed's more gorgeous offerings, incredibly simple, very effective. One of those comforting songs that sort of combs out one's tangles whether one wants it to happen or not.
Draw Near (Janco)
A parish favorite, in many ways also one of our more "all-purpose" Communion songs, but the whole invitation to "draw near, draw near" is very appropriate to this week and season--it speaks to the disgraced tax collector in all of us, the part that wants to hide in back and stay away, to hide the parts of us we think God shouldn't see...and yet we still are called to draw near, draw close, warts and all. (I find this very comforting; I'm feeling very spiritually warty this week.)
Closing: How can I Keep From Singing
I kind of feel like if anyone's read this far, they won't need me to say much about this song and why we're singing it!
It's been a rough couple of weeks, though I'm not really sure why. I haven't been sleeping enough, which is nothing new, but I can't bounce back from it the way I used to when I was younger. I had a birthday last weekend myself, and I'll go ahead and post it right here in black and white: I'm 39 years old. For some reason I find the "liminal" ages more threatening than the actual milestone years themselves--29 was hard, 30 was great. 20 was hard, 21 was great. Probably 40 will be absolutely fine, but 39 I'm finding somewhat traumatic.:-)
And I'll say it here for the record: when I turn 40 I want a cake big enough that it can have 40 candles, which I intend to blow out in one puff. That all may know I'm not even remotely decrepit. Yet.
peace,
Jennifer
Wednesday, October 3, 2007
October 7, 27th Sunday in Ordinary Time
October 7, 27th Sunday in Ordinary Time
Prelude (Saturday 5pm): One is the Body
Opening: This is a day of new beginnings (GC 453)
Psalm: 95—If Today you hear his voice (PRM C97)
Presentation: Lord, whose love in humble service (WS 674)
At 10:45: The Love of Christ compels us
Communion:
At 5pm Saturday (Ensemble): Come and let us worship God! (Uganda)
At 10:45 Sunday (choir): This is the Body of Christ (Bell)
All liturgies: Christ, be our light (GC 512)
Closing: Come, Holy Spirit, wind and fire (WS 531)
Another difficult week for which to select music! I tried to stress the themes of hope, faith, and humility in the music selections. The general aura of patience and trust that comes through in the readings, the admonition to wait for the promise’s fulfillment and trust that even though we are not able to see and touch it it is there for us at the right moment…the reminder that this is simply what we are called to do, humbly and without question…(in hindsight, “Eye has not Seen” would have been a good song for this Sunday as well…)
The prelude at the Saturday 5pm, Rory’s lovely “One is the Body,” is not so much tied to the readings themselves as it is a reminder that we are all one (as well as a very brief not to Respect Life Sunday, which by the way really gets my goat when people assume it’s about nothing but abortion and stem cell research and forget that respecting life includes taking care of those babies after they are born and working to eliminate the structures of oppression and poverty that lead women into this cycle of death, often not by their own “choice” at all…but that’s a rant for another day…) and responsible to one another. It’s a beautiful song, but Rory probably wins the “could this refrain be any longer” award on this song, J, which is probably why it’s not in the Gather II any longer…too bad, it’s a lovely lovely song.
“This is a day of new beginnings” is another of those “we know it but we haven’t sung it in a while” songs, honestly not particularly connected to the readings of the day either—but it never hurts to re-remind ourselves and each other that every Sunday is its own little Easter celebration, that Jesus is alive and risen amidst all the painful Stuff of life. “Lord, whose love” is another song which reminds us that it is our responsibility to serve and heal one another in the “hands-on” stuff of life, not in order to be thought of as wonderful and holy, but because that’s simply what we are “obliged to do” (as the Gospel, Luke 17:10, puts it.) The 10:45 choir is singing Jeff Honore’s “The love of Christ compels us” at the same liturgical moment; a great and fun piece, one of those ones where the SATB parts make the group sound larger than it is—and its message of how the “love of Christ urges us on” is very apt for this week.
At Communion we are singing “Christ, be our light” at all the liturgies, but at the 10:45 I’m trying something a little different: John Bell has a pretty little refrain, “This is the body of Christ,” which I love. We’ll sing it twice before Communion, then sing “Christ, be our light,” and then repeat the little Bell refrain at the end. We’ll see how it works! (Got that idea from Ed Foley years ago, but haven’t ever tried it per se…) The Ensemble's "pre-Communion" piece is the little Uganda song we learned last October...a charming little piece, great fun to sing.
And the closing, “Come, Holy Spirit, wind and fire” is another call for God to come into our midst, this time as Spirit, to inspire our Church into faith and action. It’s to the same melody as “Faith of our Fathers,” a gorgeous tune which I honestly have trouble programming today—it’s much too male-dominant, yes, but my bigger problem with it is the whole “Soldiers of Christ” (in the literal sense) perspective it comes from—not to impugn the loving sacrifice of our martyrs throughout history, but in a world of religious fanatic suicide bombers I have difficulty with lines like, “How blest would be thy children’s fate if they, like them, should die for thee!” and such…
Anyway, this new text is lovely and wonderful and the parish sings it well, so there we are!
On a personal note: this coming Sunday is also my son’s 5th birthday, which is both exciting and bittersweet—he’s getting so big! And I never forget that my time here in this parish is closely related to his birth: I was 6 months pregnant with him when I started in the parish a little over 5 years ago, and he was born literally the day of our first choir Sunday of my first season here.
Life changes a lot, doesn’t it? And it’s all so very, very good…
Peace,
Jennifer
Prelude (Saturday 5pm): One is the Body
Opening: This is a day of new beginnings (GC 453)
Psalm: 95—If Today you hear his voice (PRM C97)
Presentation: Lord, whose love in humble service (WS 674)
At 10:45: The Love of Christ compels us
Communion:
At 5pm Saturday (Ensemble): Come and let us worship God! (Uganda)
At 10:45 Sunday (choir): This is the Body of Christ (Bell)
All liturgies: Christ, be our light (GC 512)
Closing: Come, Holy Spirit, wind and fire (WS 531)
Another difficult week for which to select music! I tried to stress the themes of hope, faith, and humility in the music selections. The general aura of patience and trust that comes through in the readings, the admonition to wait for the promise’s fulfillment and trust that even though we are not able to see and touch it it is there for us at the right moment…the reminder that this is simply what we are called to do, humbly and without question…(in hindsight, “Eye has not Seen” would have been a good song for this Sunday as well…)
The prelude at the Saturday 5pm, Rory’s lovely “One is the Body,” is not so much tied to the readings themselves as it is a reminder that we are all one (as well as a very brief not to Respect Life Sunday, which by the way really gets my goat when people assume it’s about nothing but abortion and stem cell research and forget that respecting life includes taking care of those babies after they are born and working to eliminate the structures of oppression and poverty that lead women into this cycle of death, often not by their own “choice” at all…but that’s a rant for another day…) and responsible to one another. It’s a beautiful song, but Rory probably wins the “could this refrain be any longer” award on this song, J, which is probably why it’s not in the Gather II any longer…too bad, it’s a lovely lovely song.
“This is a day of new beginnings” is another of those “we know it but we haven’t sung it in a while” songs, honestly not particularly connected to the readings of the day either—but it never hurts to re-remind ourselves and each other that every Sunday is its own little Easter celebration, that Jesus is alive and risen amidst all the painful Stuff of life. “Lord, whose love” is another song which reminds us that it is our responsibility to serve and heal one another in the “hands-on” stuff of life, not in order to be thought of as wonderful and holy, but because that’s simply what we are “obliged to do” (as the Gospel, Luke 17:10, puts it.) The 10:45 choir is singing Jeff Honore’s “The love of Christ compels us” at the same liturgical moment; a great and fun piece, one of those ones where the SATB parts make the group sound larger than it is—and its message of how the “love of Christ urges us on” is very apt for this week.
At Communion we are singing “Christ, be our light” at all the liturgies, but at the 10:45 I’m trying something a little different: John Bell has a pretty little refrain, “This is the body of Christ,” which I love. We’ll sing it twice before Communion, then sing “Christ, be our light,” and then repeat the little Bell refrain at the end. We’ll see how it works! (Got that idea from Ed Foley years ago, but haven’t ever tried it per se…) The Ensemble's "pre-Communion" piece is the little Uganda song we learned last October...a charming little piece, great fun to sing.
And the closing, “Come, Holy Spirit, wind and fire” is another call for God to come into our midst, this time as Spirit, to inspire our Church into faith and action. It’s to the same melody as “Faith of our Fathers,” a gorgeous tune which I honestly have trouble programming today—it’s much too male-dominant, yes, but my bigger problem with it is the whole “Soldiers of Christ” (in the literal sense) perspective it comes from—not to impugn the loving sacrifice of our martyrs throughout history, but in a world of religious fanatic suicide bombers I have difficulty with lines like, “How blest would be thy children’s fate if they, like them, should die for thee!” and such…
Anyway, this new text is lovely and wonderful and the parish sings it well, so there we are!
On a personal note: this coming Sunday is also my son’s 5th birthday, which is both exciting and bittersweet—he’s getting so big! And I never forget that my time here in this parish is closely related to his birth: I was 6 months pregnant with him when I started in the parish a little over 5 years ago, and he was born literally the day of our first choir Sunday of my first season here.
Life changes a lot, doesn’t it? And it’s all so very, very good…
Peace,
Jennifer
Thursday, September 27, 2007
September 30, 26th Sunday in Ordinary Time
September 30, 26th Sunday in Ordinary Time
Prelude (10:45): Halleluya, we sing your praises
Opening: Lord, whose love in humble service (WS 674)
(at 9:00: We are Called)
Psalm: 146—Praise the Lord, my soul (PRM C96)
Presentation: The Cry of the Poor (GC 33)
(at Saturday 5:00: Lord, bring me home, Paul Tate)
(at 9:00: Within the Reign of God)
Communion: (at 10:45: Out of the Depths, J.S. Bach)
(at 9:00: Here am I)
All liturgies: A New Commandment (WS 592)
at Saturday 5:00: Canticle of the Turning)
Closing: We are Called (GC 710)
(at 9:00: Go out in the world, Bolduc)
With the onset of multiple choirs and a parish that at last has a fairly consistent across-the-board repertoire, the lineups for the different weekend liturgies are starting to shift more and more…this weekend the Youth Choir, our grade 5-8 group, sings for the first time. They sounded lovely in rehearsal, so I’m really looking forward to it…
Honestly, there’s not much to say about the scriptures for this week I didn’t say last week…not to oversimplify, but it’s very much a “more of the same” kind of Sunday: First reading, woe to the rich. Psalm, praise God who raises up the lowly. Second reading, pursue the way of Christ. Gospel, the rich man and Lazarus: earthly wealth is meaningless when it comes to eternity. Sort of "same old, same old" at this point :-)
So, music choices:
Halleluya, we sing your praises (choir at 10:45): this prelude is there primarily for two not-too deep reasons: 1. Kelly, our organist, is helping Rory in Barrington this weekend and I don’t have time to prepare a decent prelude. And 2. amidst these dire readings, we need a reminder to rejoice and be glad. The other choir piece at this liturgy is very sad and lamenting, so I wanted a contrast.
Lord, whose love in humble service: set to the American folk hymn tune BEACH SPRING, this is a none-too subtle reminder, a homily-in-verse, really, of our obligation to serve others as Christ served us. It’s a little too wordy for the children’s choir to pull off, and the 9:00 liturgy is more likely to be populated by parents whose total number of arms is exceeded by the number of children they are corralling, so I tend to program hymnal-free music as much as possible at this liturgy.
Cry of the Poor, at the Presentation, is a lovely setting of Psalm 34 from the “Glory and Praise” days—one of the ones that thankfully survived the liturgy wars and is still part of the standard Catholic repertoire today. The only reason we are not doing it at 5:00 and 9:00 is because the choir has pieces which fit best in that spot: Paul Tate’s lovely “Lord, bring me home to your temple” is a nod to Lazarus and the rich man, expressing our longing to dwell in God’s house. I first heard this lovely setting probably 15 years ago, before anyone had ever heard of Paul Tate, and it has stuck with me ever since. I was delighted to see that it is finally in publication. At the 9:00, Marty Haugen’s charming “Within the Reign of God” is one I have loved for children’s choirs for years: “Blessed are they who are least in the reign of God; they shall rejoice at the feast of life!” It sings so beautifully and clearly…I doubt if I’d be inclined to use it for adult groups, but it’s great for kids.
At Communion time this week, I have two choirs doing “pre-Communion” choral pieces, and one doing a “post-Communion” song of praise. The children at 9:00 are singing this heart-wrenchingly sad little piece called “Here am I,” about Christ being amid the homeless and cold children, asking us, “where are you?”…the kids are complaining about how sad it is and attempting to draw me into deep theological conversations at practice to avoid actually practicing, but I think it’ll be wonderfully effective. And the 10:45 choir is singing a Bach chorale based on Psalm 130: “Out of the Depths I cry to you, O God.” Another nod to the rich man and Lazarus, this time from the perspective of the rich man, sunk in the depths and crying out for relief.
On Saturday, the Ensemble is singing “Canticle of the Turning,” Rory’s rather revolutionary version of the Magnificat; they love it and pretty much sing the stuffing out of it, and as I said last week, the Magnificat is perfect for any weeks when we’re focusing on how God puts down the rich and raises up the lowly.
For all the liturgies we selected music for the closing which reflects this sense of sending and mission: We are Called at most liturgies, which the parish loves and sings really well, and “Go out in the world” with the children at 9:00, since they love it and I already used We are Called as their opening!
So…we shall see! Lots of good singing will be happening this weekend…
Peace,
Jennifer
Prelude (10:45): Halleluya, we sing your praises
Opening: Lord, whose love in humble service (WS 674)
(at 9:00: We are Called)
Psalm: 146—Praise the Lord, my soul (PRM C96)
Presentation: The Cry of the Poor (GC 33)
(at Saturday 5:00: Lord, bring me home, Paul Tate)
(at 9:00: Within the Reign of God)
Communion: (at 10:45: Out of the Depths, J.S. Bach)
(at 9:00: Here am I)
All liturgies: A New Commandment (WS 592)
at Saturday 5:00: Canticle of the Turning)
Closing: We are Called (GC 710)
(at 9:00: Go out in the world, Bolduc)
With the onset of multiple choirs and a parish that at last has a fairly consistent across-the-board repertoire, the lineups for the different weekend liturgies are starting to shift more and more…this weekend the Youth Choir, our grade 5-8 group, sings for the first time. They sounded lovely in rehearsal, so I’m really looking forward to it…
Honestly, there’s not much to say about the scriptures for this week I didn’t say last week…not to oversimplify, but it’s very much a “more of the same” kind of Sunday: First reading, woe to the rich. Psalm, praise God who raises up the lowly. Second reading, pursue the way of Christ. Gospel, the rich man and Lazarus: earthly wealth is meaningless when it comes to eternity. Sort of "same old, same old" at this point :-)
So, music choices:
Halleluya, we sing your praises (choir at 10:45): this prelude is there primarily for two not-too deep reasons: 1. Kelly, our organist, is helping Rory in Barrington this weekend and I don’t have time to prepare a decent prelude. And 2. amidst these dire readings, we need a reminder to rejoice and be glad. The other choir piece at this liturgy is very sad and lamenting, so I wanted a contrast.
Lord, whose love in humble service: set to the American folk hymn tune BEACH SPRING, this is a none-too subtle reminder, a homily-in-verse, really, of our obligation to serve others as Christ served us. It’s a little too wordy for the children’s choir to pull off, and the 9:00 liturgy is more likely to be populated by parents whose total number of arms is exceeded by the number of children they are corralling, so I tend to program hymnal-free music as much as possible at this liturgy.
Cry of the Poor, at the Presentation, is a lovely setting of Psalm 34 from the “Glory and Praise” days—one of the ones that thankfully survived the liturgy wars and is still part of the standard Catholic repertoire today. The only reason we are not doing it at 5:00 and 9:00 is because the choir has pieces which fit best in that spot: Paul Tate’s lovely “Lord, bring me home to your temple” is a nod to Lazarus and the rich man, expressing our longing to dwell in God’s house. I first heard this lovely setting probably 15 years ago, before anyone had ever heard of Paul Tate, and it has stuck with me ever since. I was delighted to see that it is finally in publication. At the 9:00, Marty Haugen’s charming “Within the Reign of God” is one I have loved for children’s choirs for years: “Blessed are they who are least in the reign of God; they shall rejoice at the feast of life!” It sings so beautifully and clearly…I doubt if I’d be inclined to use it for adult groups, but it’s great for kids.
At Communion time this week, I have two choirs doing “pre-Communion” choral pieces, and one doing a “post-Communion” song of praise. The children at 9:00 are singing this heart-wrenchingly sad little piece called “Here am I,” about Christ being amid the homeless and cold children, asking us, “where are you?”…the kids are complaining about how sad it is and attempting to draw me into deep theological conversations at practice to avoid actually practicing, but I think it’ll be wonderfully effective. And the 10:45 choir is singing a Bach chorale based on Psalm 130: “Out of the Depths I cry to you, O God.” Another nod to the rich man and Lazarus, this time from the perspective of the rich man, sunk in the depths and crying out for relief.
On Saturday, the Ensemble is singing “Canticle of the Turning,” Rory’s rather revolutionary version of the Magnificat; they love it and pretty much sing the stuffing out of it, and as I said last week, the Magnificat is perfect for any weeks when we’re focusing on how God puts down the rich and raises up the lowly.
For all the liturgies we selected music for the closing which reflects this sense of sending and mission: We are Called at most liturgies, which the parish loves and sings really well, and “Go out in the world” with the children at 9:00, since they love it and I already used We are Called as their opening!
So…we shall see! Lots of good singing will be happening this weekend…
Peace,
Jennifer
Monday, September 24, 2007
September 23--What I learned
This week I learned that I am, after all, not immune to embarrassment. Anyone who was at the 10:45: remember that annoying little boy who was waggling his ears and making faces through the whole Eucharistic Prayer up on the altar? Yup, that was my son. My sweet boy. He makes his mama so proud...
Sigh.
It was his second time up there--last week he was good as gold, listened, paid attention, and was still as could be. Yesterday, he was the Klass Klown.
I told a few people that I want to get him a t-shirt that says, "No, I am not the Music Director's kid."
This week I also learned, once again, that I Love My Job!!
The Saturday choir sang for the first time, and they did a gorgeous job...and the people sang too. It was such a wonderful blend of sound, full of such heart and happiness and commitment, the kind of sound that really just drew one into worship and prayer and song. And I know that I, who (okay, I admit it!) from time to time occasionally slip into auto-pilot (not very often, really!)--even in the general course of things, I need to remain more consciously "in the present" and alert, and can't usually let myself relax into a spiritual experience--but Saturday I was moved into prayer in a way I don't get to be very often. It was just lovely. I was really happy to be back.
Sunday was just as good, but different, more familiar, since I've been directing the 10:45 choir every year without hiatus. It was like stepping into a familiar and comfortable home, one that's beautiful and warm and decorated just the way it ought to be, filled with family and laughter and music. The Willan motet was as flawless as I've ever heard it, and consummately musical...and just having the added vocal fullness and harmony to the rest of the liturgy was so nice. I was really happy to be back.
It's good to work in a place where, every Sunday when I leave work, I can't wait to go back to work again. Admittedly, I'm exhausted, I'm overloaded, I'm overscheduled, I'm quite honestly barely hanging on sometimes...but put me in front of a choir and suddenly there's enough energy for days. I love my work.
peace,
Jennifer
Sigh.
It was his second time up there--last week he was good as gold, listened, paid attention, and was still as could be. Yesterday, he was the Klass Klown.
I told a few people that I want to get him a t-shirt that says, "No, I am not the Music Director's kid."
This week I also learned, once again, that I Love My Job!!
The Saturday choir sang for the first time, and they did a gorgeous job...and the people sang too. It was such a wonderful blend of sound, full of such heart and happiness and commitment, the kind of sound that really just drew one into worship and prayer and song. And I know that I, who (okay, I admit it!) from time to time occasionally slip into auto-pilot (not very often, really!)--even in the general course of things, I need to remain more consciously "in the present" and alert, and can't usually let myself relax into a spiritual experience--but Saturday I was moved into prayer in a way I don't get to be very often. It was just lovely. I was really happy to be back.
Sunday was just as good, but different, more familiar, since I've been directing the 10:45 choir every year without hiatus. It was like stepping into a familiar and comfortable home, one that's beautiful and warm and decorated just the way it ought to be, filled with family and laughter and music. The Willan motet was as flawless as I've ever heard it, and consummately musical...and just having the added vocal fullness and harmony to the rest of the liturgy was so nice. I was really happy to be back.
It's good to work in a place where, every Sunday when I leave work, I can't wait to go back to work again. Admittedly, I'm exhausted, I'm overloaded, I'm overscheduled, I'm quite honestly barely hanging on sometimes...but put me in front of a choir and suddenly there's enough energy for days. I love my work.
peace,
Jennifer
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
September 23, 25th Sunday in Ordinary Time
September 23, 25th Sunday in Ordinary Time
Opening: The Summons (GC 687)
Psalm: 113—Praise the Lord who lifts up the poor (PRM C95)
Presentation: Holy is your Name (GC 83)
Communion: A New Commandment (WS 592)
Closing: You are the Voice (GC 538)
Choir: O How Sweet, O Lord (Healy Willan)--sung at the beginning of Communion
--this is a beautiful little motet I discovered probably in college, while I was singing at the National Shrine. Very short, very lovely, not too difficult but musically very expressive...it's a great "first" anthem for the choir season, and it's Magnificat-like themes fit the Sunday perfectly. For some weird reason it's out of print...
Ensemble: A Place at the Table (Murray/True)--sung at the Preparation, with Holy is your Name replacing The Summons at the opening
--another lovely one; combines lyricism with a comfortably syncopated melody, and the Ensemble likes it a lot. The syncopation would make it a little difficult for a congregation, but it makes a perfect contemporary choral piece. I will also probably have the Ensemble do a little prelude of "Halleluya, we sing your praises"--I'm not sure I'll be up for doing choral preludes every single Sunday; it just feels sort of odd to me. I'd rather mix choral with instrumental week by week. But if the assembly keeps singing, and if having the choir "present" something before the liturgy begins can be done in a way that helps people move into their prayer, and encourages rather than stifles singing, I certainly won't object to it, and it seems to be something they really want! We'll see...
(much of the below is taken from my Staff Notes for this week's bulletin, but music stuff comes at the bottom...)
Praise, you servants of the Lord!
Throughout this autumn season, as we move toward the end of our liturgical year, the readings we hear on Sundays will become more and more challenging. In the first reading on this 25th Sunday in Ordinary Time we hear the prophet Amos crying out against those whose greed and desire for worldly treasure cause them to abandon their worship and tread upon the poor and needy. The passage is harsh and condemning, fierce and relentless...
And the psalm that follows it cries out, “Praise the Lord! Praise the Lord who lifts up the poor!”
Often we think of the psalm as merely a “response” to the first reading; actually, its title as the “Responsorial Psalm” comes not from its purpose as a “response” to a reading but simply from its form of singing: “responsorial” singing, as far back as Gregorian Chant, has involved a dialogue between a leader (or cantor) and the larger assembly. The Psalm holds its place as part of the proclamation of the Word—it is a reading from Scripture which happens to be sung rather than spoken. That is why the Psalm is always proclaimed from the ambo, where the readings are heard, rather than from the microphone from which the cantor leads the rest of the singing.
Still, the psalms for each Sunday were chosen to link with the Gospel and Old Testament readings for each week, and this one is a glorious “response” to the cry of Amos: he calls out a message of doom and anguish, and amidst the anger and injustice perpetrated by those who care nothing for God, the psalmist still finds a voice of praise: “Praise the Lord who lifts up the poor! God raises the lowly from the dust...he lifts up the poor to seat them with princes...blessed be the name of the Lord, now and forever!”
This is a powerful reminder, and one which any of us who love music and singing should hold to heart: when the road is difficult, sing! When everything is falling apart, sing praise for what will always hold firm! In the face of injustice, sing! In the place of darkness, sing! There is always room, even in our darkest times, to find something for which to praise our gracious and loving God!
This week's song choices: The Summons is a parish favorite, naming the different kinds of people and personally risky actions one must approach to be a follower of Jesus; it's not unlike "A Place at the Table," which the Ensemble will be singing at the Preparation. The Magnificat text is perfect for any Sunday when the scriptures speak about God's putting down of the proud and raising up the poor and lowly; plus I just love "Holy is your Name," even if it is based upon a non-sacred Irish folk tune. Perhaps just because I'd never heard the tune before I heard it set to these words, it seems incredibly prayerful to me. We used it as our closing prayer for the choir at tonight's rehearsal, and it was so lovely...
"A New Commandment" for Communion sort of pulls together all of these calls to live in prayer and reaching out to those we might not otherwise touch, calling us to "love one another" as Christ has loved us. Hard to beat that...and at the 10:45 we'll do it coming right out of "O How Sweet," the little English motet the choir will sing at the beginning of Communion: "O, how sweet, O Lord, is thy spirit, for thou hast shown thy sweetness unto thy children. Thou hast given them most wondrous bread from heaven; thou fillest the hungry with good things, and the rich thou sendest empty away." And then we move into, "I give you a new commandment: love one another as I have loved you." Sort of mirrors the "sending" action of the Mass--we gather, we share the Word, we gather at the Table, and we are sent out to be Christ for the world.
You are the Voice, our closing, is a rousing and fun one the parish loves; for the first time we're having the choir and ensemble learn the harmony parts for the last refrain, which should sort of fill out the sound a bit. Again, it's a song of sending: "You are the voice of the living God, calling us now to live in your love, to be children of God once again." Theologically, I guess it's sort of ambiguous regarding who the voice of the living God is...are we singing to God? to one another? do we really need to know?:-)
Anyway, THIS is the voice of one tired choir director who needs to get up tomorrow to take her kid to school, and really doesn't need to still be in the office at 11:00pm. So...signing off...
peace,
Jennifer
—Jennifer Kerr Budziak
Opening: The Summons (GC 687)
Psalm: 113—Praise the Lord who lifts up the poor (PRM C95)
Presentation: Holy is your Name (GC 83)
Communion: A New Commandment (WS 592)
Closing: You are the Voice (GC 538)
Choir: O How Sweet, O Lord (Healy Willan)--sung at the beginning of Communion
--this is a beautiful little motet I discovered probably in college, while I was singing at the National Shrine. Very short, very lovely, not too difficult but musically very expressive...it's a great "first" anthem for the choir season, and it's Magnificat-like themes fit the Sunday perfectly. For some weird reason it's out of print...
Ensemble: A Place at the Table (Murray/True)--sung at the Preparation, with Holy is your Name replacing The Summons at the opening
--another lovely one; combines lyricism with a comfortably syncopated melody, and the Ensemble likes it a lot. The syncopation would make it a little difficult for a congregation, but it makes a perfect contemporary choral piece. I will also probably have the Ensemble do a little prelude of "Halleluya, we sing your praises"--I'm not sure I'll be up for doing choral preludes every single Sunday; it just feels sort of odd to me. I'd rather mix choral with instrumental week by week. But if the assembly keeps singing, and if having the choir "present" something before the liturgy begins can be done in a way that helps people move into their prayer, and encourages rather than stifles singing, I certainly won't object to it, and it seems to be something they really want! We'll see...
(much of the below is taken from my Staff Notes for this week's bulletin, but music stuff comes at the bottom...)
Praise, you servants of the Lord!
Throughout this autumn season, as we move toward the end of our liturgical year, the readings we hear on Sundays will become more and more challenging. In the first reading on this 25th Sunday in Ordinary Time we hear the prophet Amos crying out against those whose greed and desire for worldly treasure cause them to abandon their worship and tread upon the poor and needy. The passage is harsh and condemning, fierce and relentless...
And the psalm that follows it cries out, “Praise the Lord! Praise the Lord who lifts up the poor!”
Often we think of the psalm as merely a “response” to the first reading; actually, its title as the “Responsorial Psalm” comes not from its purpose as a “response” to a reading but simply from its form of singing: “responsorial” singing, as far back as Gregorian Chant, has involved a dialogue between a leader (or cantor) and the larger assembly. The Psalm holds its place as part of the proclamation of the Word—it is a reading from Scripture which happens to be sung rather than spoken. That is why the Psalm is always proclaimed from the ambo, where the readings are heard, rather than from the microphone from which the cantor leads the rest of the singing.
Still, the psalms for each Sunday were chosen to link with the Gospel and Old Testament readings for each week, and this one is a glorious “response” to the cry of Amos: he calls out a message of doom and anguish, and amidst the anger and injustice perpetrated by those who care nothing for God, the psalmist still finds a voice of praise: “Praise the Lord who lifts up the poor! God raises the lowly from the dust...he lifts up the poor to seat them with princes...blessed be the name of the Lord, now and forever!”
This is a powerful reminder, and one which any of us who love music and singing should hold to heart: when the road is difficult, sing! When everything is falling apart, sing praise for what will always hold firm! In the face of injustice, sing! In the place of darkness, sing! There is always room, even in our darkest times, to find something for which to praise our gracious and loving God!
This week's song choices: The Summons is a parish favorite, naming the different kinds of people and personally risky actions one must approach to be a follower of Jesus; it's not unlike "A Place at the Table," which the Ensemble will be singing at the Preparation. The Magnificat text is perfect for any Sunday when the scriptures speak about God's putting down of the proud and raising up the poor and lowly; plus I just love "Holy is your Name," even if it is based upon a non-sacred Irish folk tune. Perhaps just because I'd never heard the tune before I heard it set to these words, it seems incredibly prayerful to me. We used it as our closing prayer for the choir at tonight's rehearsal, and it was so lovely...
"A New Commandment" for Communion sort of pulls together all of these calls to live in prayer and reaching out to those we might not otherwise touch, calling us to "love one another" as Christ has loved us. Hard to beat that...and at the 10:45 we'll do it coming right out of "O How Sweet," the little English motet the choir will sing at the beginning of Communion: "O, how sweet, O Lord, is thy spirit, for thou hast shown thy sweetness unto thy children. Thou hast given them most wondrous bread from heaven; thou fillest the hungry with good things, and the rich thou sendest empty away." And then we move into, "I give you a new commandment: love one another as I have loved you." Sort of mirrors the "sending" action of the Mass--we gather, we share the Word, we gather at the Table, and we are sent out to be Christ for the world.
You are the Voice, our closing, is a rousing and fun one the parish loves; for the first time we're having the choir and ensemble learn the harmony parts for the last refrain, which should sort of fill out the sound a bit. Again, it's a song of sending: "You are the voice of the living God, calling us now to live in your love, to be children of God once again." Theologically, I guess it's sort of ambiguous regarding who the voice of the living God is...are we singing to God? to one another? do we really need to know?:-)
Anyway, THIS is the voice of one tired choir director who needs to get up tomorrow to take her kid to school, and really doesn't need to still be in the office at 11:00pm. So...signing off...
peace,
Jennifer
—Jennifer Kerr Budziak
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