In the opening of The Sound of Music, Julie Andrews (as Maria) whimsically and wistfully sings, “The hills are alive with the sound of music…” The eponymously-named entrance song is made even more memorable with the backdrop of snow-capped Untersberg Mountain in the Berchtesgaden Alps.
On a less pleasant note, the theme song for some church choir directors could be, not The Sound of Music, but The Mound of Music. Indeed, the wills are alive with a mound of music in some houses of worship — and not just at “ordinary form” parishes.
Vernacular processional, recessional, Offertory and Communion hymns make the overall atmosphere more casually local and distract from the main purpose of attending Mass: the worship of Almighty God, who rules over the entire world, not just one’s own little (English-speaking) community.
Even if a parish choir does not sing vernacular hymns, it can still fall prey to the notion that wall-to-wall singing of some sort must accompany reception of Holy Communion. A massive and multifaceted musical mural may seem appealing, not only to attention-seeking choirs, but to anyone interested in sacred song. After all, what devout Catholic would object, in principle, to pieces by Renaissance giants such as Palestrina, Victoria, and Lassus?
A Few of My Favorite Things
Despite only the Communion antiphon being required by the Church, some choirs act as if they were strictly obliged to sing throughout Communion time. I noticed an “extraordinary form” choir that would chant the Communion antiphon, rush down to the altar rail artificially before other laypeople, then rush back to start a repertoire of songs — often in English, a telltale sign (outside of the sermon) of one’s own will appearing in the Universal Liturgy.
I asked the choir director about this — not primarily because of concern regarding the songs themselves or their quantity, but because of integral reception of Holy Communion. After all, what kind of reverence can abide in a choir that puts on a mini-concert literally one minute after receiving the Sacred Host?
If it is awkward to sing with something in one’s mouth, how much more so would it be to sing with Someone in one’s mouth? No one consumes ordinary food and immediately sings, so why would anyone consume Extraordinary Food and do so?1
The choir director claimed that they always have enough time to reverently consume the Sacred Host — and that Communion time is one of only two opportunities (the other being the Offertory) for them to sing something in addition to the ordinary of the Mass (Kyrie, Gloria, Credo, Sanctus, and Agnus Dei). They actually have four such opportunities (which are taken advantage of) if the processional and recessional hymns are included. Yet an abundance of singing, while enjoyable in itself, is not required by the Church.
The Second Vatican Council’s Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy, Sacrosanctum Concilium, was released in 1963 — two years before The Sound of Music, mind you. No. 28 of this primary document reads as follows:
In liturgical celebrations, each person — minister or layman — who has an office to perform, should do all of, but only, those parts which pertain to his office by the nature of the rite and the principles of liturgy.
In other words, don’t make stuff up and pretend it’s necessary. The Mass, unlike another song from The Sound of Music, is not about celebrating a few of one’s favorite things. It is both the wellspring and apex of the Church’s worship, and therefore cannot be subject to the whims of laymen or priests.
Curiously, the choir director claimed that providing music throughout Communion time “is our duty…it’s our job…not kneeling silently in self-satisfying recollection as the organ plays…”2 Because we were otherwise cordial, the phrase “self-satisfying recollection” was perplexing. How could being mindful of receiving God Incarnate into one’s mouth possibly be deemed “self-satisfying”—as if it were sinful to be deep in prayer at precisely the time the saints have told us is the most important for communicating with the Lord?
It is the duty of the choir to sing at Mass (I’m not sure who would disagree with that), but it is not the duty of the choir to fill all silent spaces with sound, especially while receiving Holy Communion. There are specific pieces set in the Graduale Romanum, while others are often added by personal choice of choir directors.
You Have the Rite to Remain Silent
It is the duty of the priest to pray the Mass, but it does not follow that he is required to fill “empty spaces” therein with a multiplication of required prayers or the addition of prayers not even called for — no matter how beautiful they might be in themselves.
What would be thought of a priest who, after praying “Introibo ad altare Dei,” added, “To God I will go, with the theological virtues of faith, hope and charity that I have received from Him at Baptism. May He grant that I keep these virtues alive until I am dead to this world, and, departing from it, I may rest securely in His heavenly peace, where faith and hope are no longer needed, and where charity, the grandest virtue of all, permeates the Eternal City of His Elect, with its infallibly efficacious omnipresence.”
This prayer, while acceptable in itself, is not required to be said at that point — or any point — in the Mass. The easiest way to tell this is merely by the fact that it is in English. Once the vernacular is heard (outside of the sermon), it is clear that the text of the Missal has been embellished by someone other than the competent authority.
To further illustrate, what about altar servers who want to lead a parade of genuflections immediately after entering the sanctuary? Genuflecting is a very good thing, but the servers are not allowed to multiply it indefinitely according to their own tastes—or to add other outward acts of reverence in order to fill “empty spaces” in which a “boring” posture might be required, such as sitting or standing still.
Even further, what about people in the pews adding a fourth (or fifth or sixth or seventh or more) Domine non sum dignus? That would fill in the silent time during reception of Holy Communion, which is precisely the goal of the choir director adding music at that point.
Sacrosanctum Concilum (No. 22) clearly states the overall paradigm for what is appropriate at Mass:
Regulation of the sacred liturgy depends solely on the authority of the Church — that is, on the Apostolic See and, as laws may determine, on the bishop.
Therefore, no other person, even if he be a priest, may add, remove, or change anything in the liturgy on his own authority.
During reception of Holy Communion, we should fall to our knees and pray, rather than fall prey to incorrect notions of church music. Sacrosanctum Concilium is once again helpful. No. 30 of this Constitution ends with the simple yet profound phrase, “at the proper times, all [the people in the liturgy] should observe a reverent silence.” Note the “all” — not some, not most, but all should observe a reverent silence — and not just once (at the Consecration), but “at the proper times.”
Lest some might think music-free Mass are being promoted, reading what is prescribed in the 1961 Graduale Romanum will be of great help:
IX. After the Communion of the priest, the full choir sings the antiphon…When there are other communicants [which there almost always are], the antiphon is begun when the priest distributes Communion.
If the antiphon is taken from a Psalm, other verses of the same Psalm may be sung. In that case the antiphon may be repeated after every verse or two verses; and when the Communion is ended, Gloria Patri followed by the antiphon is sung.
If the antiphon is not taken from a Psalm, some Psalm suitable to the feast and to this part of the Mass may be chosen. After the Communion antiphon, especially if the Communion takes a long time, some other Latin piece suitable to the occasion may be sung.
It is not written that many pieces of music in whatever language must be sung after the Communion antiphon, but one piece of Latin music may be sung if distribution takes a long time. B. Andrew Mills summarizes the situation in No. 74 of his widely respected Psallite Sapienter, ending with the reminder that the pipe organ may be played or reverent silence may be kept in place of additional music.
As silence accompanies the Consecration of the bread and wine, it is fitting to have silence at the consecration of ourselves — that is, when receiving Holy Communion. Let all mortal flesh keep silence, right? Not with the singing of that song, but literally — as in, do not speak out loud so that we may speak more reverently and effectively to the Lord Who has just given Himself wholly to us.3
There is a profoundly beautiful description of the gift of silence cited by Dr. Peter Kwasniewski in his new book, Good Music, Sacred Music and Silence. He quotes Elisabeth-Paule Labat4, an early 20th century professional piano player who became a Benedictine sister:
At first sight, silence appears to be characterized by an absence of sound, and thus to be something negative. Yet on a higher level we sense that there is a positive silence, a silence which indicates not absence, but presence, not emptiness, but fullness…It is like a transparent veil before the most exalted presence.
Continuing on this topic, Venerable Louis of Granada, a Spanish Dominican who influenced Saint John of the Cross, Saint Teresa of Avila, Saint Francis de Sales, Saint Charles Borromeo, Saint Vincent de Paul and Saint Rose of Lima, among others, wrote this passage in volume 1 of his Summa of the Christian Life:
When the pious soul considers [the hiddenness of God] and realizes that no name, no attribute, no praise can fittingly express what is owing to God and that all the praise of men and of angels is infinitely insufficient to explain what He is, it then desists from using those names and understands that there is an immense abyss of incomprehensible grandeurs yet unknown. So the soul remains in a holy silence and terrible awe…
Thus the soul praises God more in this way than by all the names and excellencies it could attribute to Him. This was expressed by the royal prophet when he said: “Thy praise in Sion, O Lord, is silent,” giving to understand that the most perfect praise of God is that holy silence and awe wherein the pious soul remains absorbed in great admiration for such incomprehensible majesty.
In silent adoration, we recognize the grandeur and dominion of Almighty God, symbolized by an immovable mountain. Indeed, the hills are alive with the sound of music, but the highest of hills is so beyond human praise that attentive and appreciative silence is the most fitting adoration.
— Footnotes —
1. This seems to be a new conundrum, as an expert I consulted said that prior to the mid-20th century, choir members would rarely receive Holy Communion.
It is indeed very salutary for a soul in the state of grace to receive Holy Communion as frequently as possible. However, there is no requirement to do so at every Mass — and there are times when it is more appropriate not to do so.
The idea of universal reception at every Mass (along with the idea that only one Mass could be attended per day) probably came into being around the same time of the over-extension of the concept of “active participation.”
2. My guess is that the organist would not agree with the seeming dismissal of the value of his music.
3. While I have not conducted a formal study, it seems very rare for choir members to attend non-obligatory Masses. Thinking of Mass exclusively as a musical performance rather than a communal act of worship might be both the cause and effect of being absent from non-obligatory Masses. “No singing, no Mass” seems to be the motto.
4. The Song That I Am, page 112.
Trent Beattie is the author of Scruples and Sainthood (Loreto Publications) and Fit for Heaven (Dynamic Catholic). He is also the editor of Saint Alphonsus Liguori for Every Day (Mediatrix Press), Finding True Happiness (Dynamic Catholic) and Apostolic Athletes (Marian Press).
