Catholic choirs, alive or dead?

Lucy E. Carroll has never actually attended a Catholic Mass in which a cantor belted out, "He'll be coming 'round the altar when he comes! He'll be coming 'round the altar when he comes!" At least, that hasn't happened yet.

"I know that some people have used Stephen Foster music in a Mass," said the musical director at the Carmelite monastery in Philadelphia. "I've heard about people using the melody from the waltz scene in 'Beauty and the Beast' for the 'Gloria.' And I've heard more than one report about people singing the 'Agnus Dei,' which means 'Lamb of God,' to that old song 'Send in the Clowns.' "

In many parishes, she said, pop songs and the modern hymnody inspired by them have all but replaced traditional hymns and, heaven forbid, ancient chants and actual Catholic anthems.

This is old news. What many outsiders may not realize is that many Catholic parishes have, in the past decade or two, followed the lead of Protestant megachurches and now feature plugged-in "praise bands" and worship-team singers – complete with solo microphones – who sway in the Sunday-morning spotlights.

Legions of Catholics like this music, admitted Carroll. But many do not, including some younger Catholics who are drawn to candles, incense, sacred art and the mysterious melodies of ancient chants. In many parishes, she said, it may be time – as shocking as this may sound – to start a choir.

Carroll is an unrepentant choir director. She believes there is more to being a Catholic musician than the ability to play some guitar chords while singing, "Here I am Lord, Is it I Lord? I have heard You calling in the night." She can speak words like "Victoria" and "Palestrina" without flinching.

"Most people who lead music in our churches today are not trained to be liturgical musicians," said Carroll, an adjunct professor at the Westminster Choir College at Princeton University. "They do not understand that there is music that is sacred in nature and then there is music that is secular in nature. There is Christian music that would be totally acceptable at a revival service or a youth rally, but it is not ... acceptable in a Catholic Mass."

What should someone do if they want to start a choir? Carroll recently published a list of tips in the conservative Adoremus Bulletin (www.adoremus.org) that included:

* Obtain the full support of the priest, including a pledge that he will praise the choir from the pulpit and cooperate with its efforts.

* Find a choir director and an accompanist. It helps to have money to hire someone and the person must understand worship as well as musical notes on a page. Carroll suggests that parish leaders search at local high schools and colleges, perhaps even seeking out talented students seeking practical experience.

* The best way to find singers is by personal contact. Do not, she emphasized, advertise with phrases such as "Do you like to sing in the shower?" The goal is to find choir singers, not soloists whose volume control is cranked up to "water buffalo." Avoid people who say, "I'll be there for Mass, but not rehearsals."

* Start slow, perhaps singing at the same Mass once a month. Resist the temptation to hide your fledgling choir under a wave of instrumental sound. Train the singers to handle some traditional, a cappella (voices alone) music.

* Start with unison music then let the choir sing "antiphonally," with women singing one line and men the next. Then attempt canons and rounds, such as the anonymous "Dona Nobis Pacem" that congregations have enjoyed for generations. Eventually, the director will learn who can sing soprano, alto, tenor and bass. At that point, the choir can try two-part chants and then easy anthems from a traditional Catholic hymnbook or by modern composers who write sacred music for use in Mass.

The goal is for the choir to become a close-knit family of musicians who lead the church family in worship, said Carroll. She is convinced that soloists with microphones inevitably turn into performers.

"We have to get away from the rock bands and the folks groups and the polka players and everybody else," she said. "We need to stop entertaining our people and get back to our own worship tradition – which is leading our people in the worship of God."

Not a Catholic 'Mass factory'

Catholics who treasure ancient liturgies smirk and call them "Mass factories."

These churches are visions of horizontal utilitarianism, their flat, plain walls broken by patches of metal and glass while rows of chairs face ultramodern altars. The faithful are more likely to see balloons drift to the rafters than clouds of incense veil images of Jesus, Mary and the saints.

Blessed Sacrament Catholic Church in Dallas is certainly not a "Mass factory," as both critics and fans of this poor but lively parish in a battered barrio would agree. Its Italian windows have been lovingly restored, Romanesque walls repaired and statuary augmented by treasures abandoned by others. Roses are popular, often in waves of 700 or more.

"Beauty is terribly important, especially for people who have so little beauty in their lives," said Father Paul Weinberger, 44, a beefy, energetic Anglo who arrived 10 years ago after a Spanish-language immersion program.

"People need something that lifts them up, that lets them glimpse something higher. So I want worship here to be extravagant. I want their church to be like a garden in this workaday world. ... I can't guarantee that they'll listen to me, but if their eyes wander around this church they're going to drawn to things that point them toward the mysteries of the faith."

But it was a change in the 1999 midnight Mass that helped create a buzz in Dallas and on the Internet.

Weinberger estimates that 70 percent of his flock speaks Spanish and the rest English. The challenge was to find a way for worshippers to gather in the same pews, at the same time, sharing a common language.

The priest's solution raised eyebrows. He embraced the modern Catholic rite – the Novus Ordo – but elected to use the Vatican's Latin text, accompanied by preaching in Spanish and English. This rite then filled the 10:45 a.m. slot in the parish's Sunday schedule, mixed in with two Spanish Masses and three in English.

Now Weinberger is being transferred – against his will – and supporters believe his love of Latin is one reason for the decision. They fear sweeping changes in this revived parish.

This is nonsense, said Deacon Bronson Havard, spokesperson for Bishop Charles V. Grahmann. It's perfectly normal for a priest to be rotated to another parish after 10 years and the next pastor will make the decision about Latin at Blessed Sacrament.

However, Havard stressed that the Dallas diocese does require priests to seek permission to use Latin rites – ancient or modern. This is an issue of loyalty. Only a directive from Rome can override the local bishop's authority on matters such as this, he said.

As for Weinberger's conviction that a Latin Mass is a symbol of unity, Havard said: "Using the Latin may mean something to him, but it means nothing to the people in the pews – especially not to the Mexican immigrants who come into this area. We've had many complaints about that."

This is news to Weinberger. Diocesan policy requires that pastors receive copies of all complaints, he noted, and none have reached his desk.

This whole Dallas dispute sounds sadly familiar, said Helen Hull Hitchcock, editor of Adoremus, a conservative journal about liturgy.

"We hear reports from Catholics across the nation who are accused of doing all kinds of horrible things, like kneeling at places in the Mass where people have been kneeling for centuries," she said. "Then people tell them that if they clash with their bishop ... they're being disloyal to the pope.

"It's all very annoying. Some people are mad that these priests and parishes still exist."

This is precisely what worries Weinberger.

The days of the Advent season are passing as he prepares for a final midnight Christmas Mass at Blessed Sacrament. Poinsettias, stacked 15 to 20 feet high, will frame the altar. Pews will be packed for the Latin Mass.

"What father does not want to see his whole family gathered around the same table? That has always been my goal," he said. "I want to see our whole parish there, from the first-generation immigrants who only speak Spanish to the native Dallasites who only speak English.

"I don't want the language to divide us. I want it to unite us."

Same-sex Anglican disunion

The couple holds hands before the altar as a priest guides them through their vows. "I take you to have and to hold from this day forward, to love and to cherish, for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, as my companion, lover and friend."

The congregation responds: "Blessed be God who appears to us in their love."

There is the exchanging of rings, familiar scriptures, a kiss and a blessing on the couple's "acts of tenderness and intimacy." They may be crowned or anointed before Holy Communion. The priest may lead them in a procession around the altar, cover them with a veil or tie their hands with a cord.

This is not a wedding.

Nevertheless, "A Rite for the Celebration of Commitment to a Life Together" features a barrage of symbols from centuries of marriage rites. This 1996 text is an American example of the same-sex union rites that are shaking the 70-million-member Anglican Communion.

"This rite is clearly parasitic on marriage," said Edith Humphrey, a Canadian Anglican who teaches at Pittsburgh Theological Seminary. "At least this American rite is in your face, so you know what is being communicated. That kind of candor is refreshing. ... This certainly looks like a marriage rite."

But most supporters say these rites merely bless existing same-sex relationships. This distinction is crucial, according to Vancouver School of Theology liturgist Richard Leggett.

"Despite some similarities to the marriage rite, the underlying theology and the distinctive liturgical elements define a covenant that is unique and that poses no threat to marriage as the sacramental union of a heterosexual couple," argued Leggett, commenting on a new Canadian rite.

Instead, this gives "liturgical expression to a new thing that God is doing in our midst, life-long stable and covenanted relationships for gay and lesbian disciples of Christ."

There is fire behind these academic words. After decades of guerrilla tactics, open Anglican warfare has erupted on three fronts.

In Canada, Bishop Michael Ingham – after numerous delays – on May 23 issued a same-sex union rite for use in his Diocese of New Westminster. Meanwhile, the Diocese of New Hampshire elected Father Gene Robinson as the Episcopal Church's first openly gay bishop, guaranteeing pre-consecration debates at the U.S. General Convention that begins July 30 in Minneapolis.

That gathering also faces a California resolution seeking rites to express the church's blessing on "all couples living in life-long committed relationships of mutuality and fidelity outside the relationship of marriage, which mediate the grace of God."

Then Oxford Bishop Richard Harries appointed Father Jeffrey John, a gay theologian, as bishop of Reading. Nine evangelical bishops in England have publicly vowed a fight. Archbishop of Canterbury Rowan Williams called for dialogue, yet signaled he will not oppose John's appointment.

What is at stake? Sixteen Third-World archbishops from Kenya, South India, Uganda, the Philippines, Sudan, Tanzania and elsewhere responded to Ingham by declaring a state of "severed communion" with his diocese.

Archbishop Peter Akinola told the BBC that Nigeria – with 10 archbishops, 81 bishops and 17.5 million Anglicans – would "sever relationships with anybody, anywhere, anyone who strays over the boundaries" of traditional church doctrine. Robinson's election, he told the Guardian in Lagos, is "a Satanic attack on God's church."

But there is more to this debate than sex, said Humphrey. The new Canadian rite makes a crucial claim: "All human relationships have the potential to be agents of God's purpose. Regardless of the specific characteristics of the relationship, the act of blessing does not make the relationship more holy but rather, in giving thanks to God and invoking God's holy name, releases the relationship to realize its full potential as an expression of God's love."

This raises all kinds of questions about words such as "fidelity," "covenant," "sacrament" and "union," she said. In a marriage rite, God and the church create something new – a sacred union that changes the relationship between the man and the woman. These new rites insist that the church is merely "blessing" an existing same-sex relationship.

"The whole premise is different. The relationship is already holy. It is already sacramental," she said. "The church is merely celebrating what the couple is already doing."