In spite of thirteen hours on an airplane, a time change of nine hours, and sleep deprivation for most of us, some 35 singers, my husband as their choir director, and me as their organist were bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. We were at St. Peter’s Basilica in the Vatican, about to sing for an evening Mass for the hundreds of worshipers that completely filled the seats of the chapel at the far end of the basilica. Who could be tired or sleepy when this once-in-a-lifetime venture was taking place? And who would dare utter an annoyance over the fact that we had just stood in line for an hour to get into the building, in the hot sun, along with the tourists, only reaching our seats in the choir stalls less than five minutes before the start of the Mass. What? Had they forgotten that we were coming, or is it standard policy to treat visiting choirs, which are helping to lead the liturgy, as if their offering doesn’t matter? The choir took all of this in stride; but as someone who has been leading liturgies for 45 years, the indifference of the clergy, or even a Verger, to welcome us and check in about who would be doing what when, was remarkable in its absence.
Next we sang for Mass at the beautiful Chiesa di Santa Maria Novella in Florence. We did not have stand in the sun beforehand, and our admission cost was deferred; but we were not allowed to explore the cloister, nor given a tour of the church. In fact, we were pushed out of the building after the Mass so that the sacristan could go home. Again, no awareness, by the clergy, that the Mass is a team effort.
Lastly we sang for a late afternoon Sunday Mass at the Basilica of San Marco in Venice. Home to Gabrieli, Monteverdi, Vivaldi and many northern European composers, San Marco holds a special place in the hearts of musicians everywhere. And since the choir was from St. Mark’s Church in Berkeley, and the earthly remains of the Apostle Mark, himself, are immediately under the high altar, this opportunity held special significance.
I asked repeatedly for access to the organ so that I could find out what I needed to know regarding music in the liturgy, the instrument, the sight-lines, etc. In the end, ten minutes before the start of the Mass, our tour guide took me back to the sacristy to meet the priest who would be saying the Mass. The priest was taken off guard that there would be a visiting choir and immediately proceeded to shout at the tour guide that he was unhappy about this, and that the choir was going to make the Mass too long. The tour guide was so intimidated by this outburst that she completely clammed up and was unable, or unwilling, to give any translation between me and the priest. Between my broken Italian and Latin, I was able to communicate with him and convey to the choir (still waiting admission into the building) that two of the choral pieces were being switched. In the liturgy itself, the priest seemed to relish the opportunity to engage in a glaring contest at the choir to formalize his displeasure.
What do these three instances have in common? Catholicism, entitled priests, an approach to the liturgy as if it’s “business as usual,” a disdain for lay workers, a mistrust of beauty and mystery, and profound arrogance. I have worked as a musician within the Roman Catholic Church for 15 years, and I have hundreds of colleagues who do work, or have worked, within the Catholic Church. My experience is that these attitudes are universal.
Clergy/musician relationships are infamously fraught, and have been throughout history. Just read the letters of J. S. Bach. How many great composers, from Mozart to Beethoven to Brahms to Charles Ives, started their professional life as church musicians only to discover that the Church institution was antithetical to what the Spirit was trying to achieve in their creative outpourings. None of them ceased to make a spiritual expression through their music, but they all left the trappings of the institutional Church.
It’s no secret that good ol’ boy networks are effective because they keep their system apart from any voice of objection. The all-male, all-powerful Catholic priesthood is the epitome of just such a network. Historically clergy were among the best educated in society. Generally, even today, they come to an awareness of their calling in their early 20s. Three years of seminary, following college, puts them in positions of power and authority for the rest of their lives.
Contrast this with musicians, most of whom come to awareness of an inner drive to make music sometime between the ages of four and ten. Musicians then spend anywhere from 15 to 20 years paying for one-on-one instruction, perfecting their God-given art. Do a Google search of what it costs to become a professional in any field: The most expensive profession to learn is Medicine; the second most expensive is Music.
Any student of Spiral Dynamics theory knows that music is a more highly evolved state of consciousness than is the spoken word. Music both includes the spoken word and also transcends it. (Just as rhetoric is more evolved than grunts; it transcends and includes them.) Isn’t it ironic, then, that Christian clergy (representing finesse in spoken word) are always the hierarchical superiors of musicians (representing a more evolved level of consciousness)! It’s worth noting that such is not the case in Judaism. The Cantor and Rabbi are on equal par.
Years ago I came across the concept of Music as Sacrament. A sacrament is a window that allows us a glimpse of the Divine. It is a conduit for transcendence and transformation. It encourages self-reflection, leading to self-awareness, leading ultimately to enlightenment itself (union with the Divine). The stigmata of St. Francis of Assisi is an example of this union with the Divine.
You won’t find any church doctrine that even intimates the place of music, or the visual arts, in the canon of holy sacraments. But let’s take a look at this possibility, about whether the Arts are a sacrament, by using examples from the world around us.
Every year I make a few trips to Europe to play concerts. I come across thousands and thousands of tourists every year. Without exception, those that walk into any of Europe’s countless noble ecclesiastical buildings do so to be moved by the architecture, transformed by being in a sacred space, and enriched through glimpses of divine beauty in stained glass, carvings, and paintings. I notice that about 5 – 10% also go to mingle their prayers with the millions of pilgrims that have preceded them in that space. Surely architecture is a sacrament!
Music often has a sacred quality even when it is entirely instrumental, without sung text. It can be equally transformative in a concert hall, opera house, chapel, or cathedral. Tens of thousands of people have told me of being moved to tears by particular performances. In those moments, their life is changed; it is lifted up into Divine light. Surely music is a sacrament!
This brings me back to my opening point: Clericalism is insidious, all-pervasive in the Roman Catholic Church, and destroying the very reason the church should exist – namely to facilitate people’s connection to the Divine. Clericalism attempts to justify itself simply by its social and hierarchical stature. This has led Catholicism into near total irrelevancy: witness their stance on birth control, divorce, women, gays, infallibility of the Pope, telling people what to do and how to vote, and on and on. The work of Jesus is not finished, but he surely doesn’t need the Catholic Church to help him. The work of the world’s great artists, from Fra Angelico to Palestrina to Michelangelo to Messiaen all came to fruition through the medium of Catholicism. Now they can be set free to continue their cosmic development of humanity, bringing us ever closer to direct communion with God