This is a very different musical interpretation of Psalm 51 than we saw last week in Allegri's Miserere. In Allegri's composition the intensity of the soaring, unaccompanied voices leads us to contemplation of the Divine Mercy of God in Heaven. Here the urgent, dramatic orchestration pulls us down into King David's turbulent emotions as he comes to acknowledge his sinfulness and his need for God's mercy. This clip is only the first part of a much longer composition, and contains only the first line of the Psalm: Miserere mei, Domine, secundam misericordiam tuam, "Have mercy on me, Lord, according to your compassion". As the focus of the Psalm moves from David's sinfulness to the abundance of God's mercy, the music in the later parts of the piece changes with it . . .
[click HERE for the rest of the post and the video of Pergolesi's Miserere on Spes in Domino]
"The Prophet Nathan Rebukes King David" by Eugène Siberdt
"The Repentance of King David," C. 1650, artist unknown
One of the best known of Lenten musical compositions today is the setting Gregorio Allegri composed some time in the 1630’s for Psalm 51. The piece is known as theMiserere(i.e., “Have mercy”) from it’s first word in Latin. Allegri composed it specifically for use in Tenebrae services in the Vatican’s Sistine Chapel.
And in the Sistine Chapel it stayed, for almost a century and a half. The Popes did not allow transcriptions of Allegri’s mezmerizing composition to be made, and only three authorized versions were given away to private individuals (to Holy Roman Emperor Leopold I, to King John V of Portugal, and to the musically gifted Franciscan Giovanni Battista Martini).
That all changed when a 14 year old visitor to Rome named Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart heard the Miserere sung in the Sistine Chapel. He listened closely and, when he went back to his room, he wrote down the music from memory . . . [to hear Allegri's Miserere and read the rest of the post click HERE]
I absolutely love J.S. Bach’s Joy-filled celebration of Jesus Christ’s love for humanity, “Jesu Joy of Man’s Desiring”. Ash Wednesday is just two days away, so this is my last opportunity to get it in as a Music Monday selection before Lent . . .
Merry Christmas! Since I started blogging seven years ago I've honored the 12 Days of Christmas with a meditation (along some beautiful works of art and Christmas songs) for every one of the 12 Days of Christmas. I usually have a few things to say about the later part of the Christmas Season as well (after all, Christmas lasts for more than 12 Days). This year all the posts (up through today's) are HERE, at my blog Nisi Dominus. Please join me in celebrating the miracle of the Nativity of Christ through the whole Christmas Season.
The composer Beethoven was born into a Catholic family, but does not seem to have been devout as an adult. It is known that he did not attend Mass regularly, and scholars are reluctant to assign to him any religious affiliation at all. At the same time, it is also clear from his letters and his few religious compositions that, in his stubborn and idiosyncratic way, he retained a strong belief in God and His Providence.
Beethoven’s best-known and by far most successful religious composition is the Missa Sollemnis, which he completed just a few years before his death. He did make other forays into sacred music earlier in his career, however. In 1802, for instance, he produced the oratorio Christ on the Mount of Olives, a revision of which he published in 1811. The dramatic action of the piece focuses on Christ’s “Agony in the Garden” after the last supper, shortly before his arrest. Beethoven’s piece reaches its climax not with the Resurrection, but at the moment in which Jesus decisively sets aside his human fears and says, “Not my will, but Yours!”
Christ on the Mount of Olives was not one of Beethoven’s more successful endeavors. The composer himself was sharply critical of Franz Xaver Huber’s libretto; critics did not consider most of the music up to Beethoven’s usual standards. The oratorio as a whole has not been performed as often as many other Beethoven pieces over the past two centuries, except for one passage: the triumphant “Hallelujah” that rings out at Our Lord’s moment of decision. It’s a glorious musical acknowledgment of Christ’s self-sacrificing act of redemption, and a glorious way to celebrate the Easter Season.
From the manuscript of the Requiem, in Mozart's hand
While it's not strictly speaking a Lenten composition, Mozart's Requiem Mass, which he was still composing at the time of his death, powerfully lends itself to the penitential nature of the liturgical season. For more than two centuries a lively debate has gone on, and continues today, concerning who composed what parts of the Requiem and the somewhat murky circumstances of its commissioning and completion. Notwithstanding the controversies both scholarly and fanciful (as in, for instance, the play and film Amadeus), Mozart's final work is a magnificent and moving composition. The clip below, from a performance in St. Stephen's Cathedral in Vienna conducted by Sir Georg Solti, includes the Introit and the Kyrie. When Mozart died he had finished the Introit; we have the composer's own notation for the vocal parts and portions of the orchestration for the Kyrie, which seems to have been put into its finished form by the composer's student Franz Joseph Süssmayr.
As we begin the penitential Season of Lent, it seems a good time to look at some the numerous musical settings for Psalm 51, which is traditionally held to have been written by King David as an expression of repentance after he engineered the death of Uriah the Hittite in order to steal his wife, Bathsheba. The most famous musical treatment of this psalm was composed by Gregorio Allegri in the 1630's, various performances of which I have posted over the last few years (most recently here). Last year I also posted lesser-known (but still powerfully beautiful and moving) renditions by Pergolesi and Josquin des Prez. I'm continuing that tradition this Lent by posting Antonio Lotti'sMiserere below, and Jan Dismas Zelenka's setting of the 51st Psalm on the blog Nisi Dominus. Lotti Lived from 1667-1740. He spent his entire musical career (except for a brief period in Dresden from 1717-1719) at St. Mark's Basilica in Venice as a singer, organist and, eventually, maestro di cappella. may not be well-known today (at least to those of us who, like me, are not experts), but he was an important and influential composer and teacher in his day. His Wikipedia entry tells us that Lotti is thought to have influencedJohann Sebastian Bach,George Frideric Handel, andJohann Dismas Zelenka, all of whom had copies of Lotti's mass, theMissa Sapientiae.
What a joyful song of praise! "Laudamus Te"from a Gloria by the incomparable Antonio Vivaldi. Next Sunday is the last before we put on the more somber garb of the Season of Lent, so let's enjoy it while we can!
Merry Christmas!
There are many wonderful, joyful, exuberant Christmas songs, and more than a few will appear in this space over the course of the Christmas Season. Today, however, on the Feast of the Nativity itself, I'm sharing something quieter, a little more contemplative, but something that beautifully expresses the power of the Eternal Word that came among us in the form of a little baby lying in a stable.
"Of The Father's Love Begotten" is one of the oldest Christmas songs, in fact one of the most ancient Christian hymns of any sort. The words were written in the 5th Century by Aurelius Prudentius, and the melody dates back to the 10th century. The wonder it expresses, however, is as fresh as it was the day Prudentius first put the words down on parchment . . . as fresh, in fact, as it was two thousand years ago, when The Word became Flesh.
"O Magnum Mysterium" is an ancient responsorial expressing our wonder that the Savior of the Universe should come into our world in a stable, with animals as his witnesses. For a long time it was part of the Christmas Office of Matins, today more often a hymn at Midnight Mass (as in the clip below). It has been set to music many time over the centuries, from Byrd and Palestrina through modern day composers such as Lauridsen and Gjielo. As it happens, a couple nights ago I heard Lauridsen's lovely version of "O Magnum Mysterium" (published a mere 21 years ago) sung by a vocal group from a local public high school. They did a beautiful job. Here is the same piece, recorded at Westminster Cathedral's 2009 Christmas celebration.
Pope Francis leading Vespers service at St. Patrick's Cathedral in New York
I have to confess that I'm not a big fan of the early twentieth century English composer Gustav Holst. It's not that he wasn't a gifted composer; it's just that his music, for the most part, is a little too angular for my tastes (as is the case with other composers of his era as well). His most famous work, for instance, The Planets, has some very moving passages, and some that can even be called brilliant, but little I would consider really beautiful . . . except for one soaring, melodic passage that shines out from the “Jupiter” movement. Holst later set this tune to the words of a patriotic poem called “I Vow To Thee My Country”; the hymnist Ralph Vaughn Williams (a friend of the composer) shortly thereafter included his setting of the melody in a volume of church music. It has since provided the musical background for a large number of Christian hymns.
One of the better known of these, “O God Beyond All Praising” with words by Michael Perry, has become one of my favorite hymns. Here it is the closing song of a Vespers service with Pope Francis last weekend in New York. I have had a hard time finding a good Catholic performance of this hymn on YouTube, and the sound quality on this one isn’t the best, but it certainly seems to be Catholic.
One of the ironies of this tune, by the way, is that Holst’s inspiration for The Planets was not astronomy, but astrology: this tune was supposed to represent the “joviality” to be found under the Sign of Jupiter. How wonderful that when people hear it today, it is instead almost always as a song of praise to the True God and Creator of the Universe.
The musical tradition of the universal Church is a treasure of inestimable value, greater even than that of any other art. The main reason for this pre-eminence is that, as sacred song united to the words, it forms a necessary or integral part of the solemn liturgy.(Sacrosanctam Concilium, 112)
You may not be surprised to know that my tastes in liturgical music tend toward the more traditional. I'm not disparaging contemporary religious music, in and of itself. I even like some of it: I have been known to play John Michael Talbot's version of "Table of Plenty", for instance, and I have an abiding fondness for Dana Scallon's "We Are One Body". Really. These and many others are fine as expressions of religious devotion . . . but are they truly appropriate for the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass? Do they really capture the sacredness of the Miracle of the Holy Eucharist? I was once discussing Sacred Polyphony with co-worker, a very talented non-Catholic music teacher, who said of the work of composers such as Palestrina and Allegri: "It's some of the most beautiful music I've ever heard. I can't believe they got rid of it in the liturgy; I mean, I guess they had to, but It's hard to believe." It's understandable that he might believe this; many Catholics do, too. On the other hand, the Church itself, in the Second Vatican Council's Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy Sacrosanctum Concilium says:
The Church acknowledges Gregorian chant as specially suited to the Roman liturgy: therefore, other things being equal, it should be given pride of place in liturgical services.
But other kinds of sacred music, especially polyphony, are by no means excluded from liturgical celebrations, so long as they accord with the spirit of the liturgical action, as laid down in Art. 30. The word sacred means "set aside", as in set aside for God, and so sacred music should be very special indeed. I offer as an example the clip below, which employs both Gregorian Chant and Polyphony, Gregorio Allegri's "Adoremus in Aeternum".
Section VI of Sacrosanctum Concilium, dealing with Sacred Music:
VI SACRED MUSIC
112. The musical tradition of the universal Church is a treasure of inestimable value, greater even than that of any other art. The main reason for this pre-eminence is that, as sacred song united to the words, it forms a necessary or integral part of the solemn liturgy.
Holy Scripture, indeed, has bestowed praise upon sacred song [42], and the same may be said of the fathers of the Church and of the Roman pontiffs who in recent times, led by St. Pius X, have explained more precisely the ministerial function supplied by sacred music in the service of the Lord.
Therefore sacred music is to be considered the more holy in proportion as it is more closely connected with the liturgical action, whether it adds delight to prayer, fosters unity of minds, or confers greater solemnity upon the sacred rites. But the Church approves of all forms of true art having the needed qualities, and admits them into divine worship.
Accordingly, the sacred Council, keeping to the norms and precepts of ecclesiastical tradition and discipline, and having regard to the purpose of sacred music, which is the glory of God and the sanctification of the faithful, decrees as follows.
113. Liturgical worship is given a more noble form when the divine offices are celebrated solemnly in song, with the assistance of sacred ministers and the active participation of the people.
As regards the language to be used, the provisions of Art. 36 are to be observed; for the Mass, Art. 54; for the sacraments, Art. 63; for the divine office. Art. 101.
114. The treasure of sacred music is to be preserved and fostered with great care. Choirs must be diligently promoted, especially in cathedral churches; but bishops and other pastors of souls must be at pains to ensure that, whenever the sacred action is to be celebrated with song, the whole body of the faithful may be able to contribute that active participation which is rightly theirs, as laid down in Art. 28 and 30.
115. Great importance is to be attached to the teaching and practice of music in seminaries, in the novitiates and houses of study of religious of both sexes, and also in other Catholic institutions and schools. To impart this instruction, teachers are to be carefully trained and put in charge of the teaching of sacred music.
It is desirable also to found higher institutes of sacred music whenever this can be done.
Composers and singers, especially boys, must also be given a genuine liturgical training.
116. The Church acknowledges Gregorian chant as specially suited to the Roman liturgy: therefore, other things being equal, it should be given pride of place in liturgical services.
But other kinds of sacred music, especially polyphony, are by no means excluded from liturgical celebrations, so long as they accord with the spirit of the liturgical action, as laid down in Art. 30.
117. The typical edition of the books of Gregorian chant is to be completed; and a more critical edition is to be prepared of those books already published since the restoration by St. Pius X.
It is desirable also that an edition be prepared containing simpler melodies, for use in small churches.
118. Religious singing by the people is to be intelligently fostered so that in devotions and sacred exercises, as also during liturgical services, the voices of the faithful may ring out according to the norms and requirements of the rubrics.
119. In certain parts of the world, especially mission lands, there are peoples who have their own musical traditions, and these play a great part in their religious and social life. For this reason due importance is to be attached to their music, and a suitable place is to be given to it, not only in forming their attitude toward religion, but also in adapting worship to their native genius, as indicated in Art. 39 and 40.
Therefore, when missionaries are being given training in music, every effort should be made to see that they become competent in promoting the traditional music of these peoples, both in schools and in sacred services, as far as may be practicable.
120. In the Latin Church the pipe organ is to be held in high esteem, for it is the traditional musical instrument which adds a wonderful splendor to the Church's ceremonies and powerfully lifts up man's mind to God and to higher things.
But other instruments also may be admitted for use in divine worship, with the knowledge and consent of the competent territorial authority, as laid down in Art. 22, 52, 37, and 40. This may be done, however, only on condition that the instruments are suitable, or can be made suitable, for sacred use, accord with the dignity of the temple, and truly contribute to the edification of the faithful.
121. Composers, filled with the Christian spirit, should feel that their vocation is to cultivate sacred music and increase its store of treasures.
Let them produce compositions which have the qualities proper to genuine sacred music, not confining themselves to works which can be sung only by large choirs, but providing also for the needs of small choirs and for the active participation of the entire assembly of the faithful.
The texts intended to be sung must always be in conformity with Catholic doctrine; indeed they should be drawn chiefly from holy scripture and from liturgical sources. (from Sancrosanctum Concilium, 4 December 1963)
One of the attractive things about Catholicism is that, traditionally anyway, it has always included a lot of Cool Stuff: gorgeous music and art (a sampling of which I try to showcase on my blog), beautiful churches in which to worship (which are themselves filled with inspiring images), ancient, uplifting prayers with which to praise our creator, and on and on. There's a vast treasury of beauty, and you can see it, hear, touch it, even smell it. It's all wonderful but . . . is it really necessary?
Many non-Catholic Christians and, sadly, even a substantial number of self-identified Catholics, dismiss these tactile and aesthetic riches as pointless frippery. Many others recognize their power, but misunderstand their purpose. John Adams, for instance, one of my favorite figures from American history but a man whose formation was thoroughly protestant, once witnessed a Catholic Vespers service when the delegates at the Constitutional Convention in Philadelphia decided to take turns attending each other's churches. He was impressed by the impact of the vestments, incense, and chanting, but also highly suspicious of its purpose, remarking "How did Luther ever break the spell?" Now, it's no surprise that somebody like Adams, raised in a worldview grounded in Puritanism, should mistrust and misunderstand the aesthetic aspects of Catholic worship, but we should expect better from our fellow Catholics, particularly those who design churches, plan liturgies, and compose or arrange music. In another recent post [here] we saw how beautiful, well-ordered churches help to teach the Faith. Today I'd like to discuss in more depth how aesthetic experiences (both inside and out of the church building) can deepen our faith and even, in some cases, help bring the unbelieving to belief.
It's a Matter of Trust
Before I go any further, I'd like to stress that bringing about conversion is primarily the work of the Holy Spirit. Our Lord still wants us to play a role, however: Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you (Matthew 28:19-20). A significant part of that teaching should be directed toward opening minds and hearts so that people are prepared to trust Christ and his message. And "Trust" is the key word. In my post "Star Trek, Secularism, And Christian Faith" [here] we looked at another passage from
Matthew, in which Jesus walks on the water and then invites Peter to do the
same; we saw that when Peter sinks into the waves, it was not so much from a
lack of belief as a lack of trust (Matthew 14:25-32). Trust of this sort doesn’t come easily: how quickly Peter, who was a close friend of Jesus, wavered in his faith. How many of us ordinary believers, even those of us who have had powerful and convincing encounters with the power of God, have found ourselves beginning to doubt, and starting to drift away? This is, I think, one of the ongoing effects of original sin: that we are prey to doubt, and our emotions can overwhelm our understanding.
If believing Christians can be drawn into doubt, what about people with even stronger emotional incentives to disbelieve? There are those who hope to indulge their favored sins without guilt, for instance, or who work in a profession (such as academia) or live in an environment where Christian Faith marks them out for ridicule and abuse; there are an enormous number of people who know little about the history or teaching of the Catholic Church except the misrepresentations of an uninformed and often hostile popular press; there are those who really have been harmed, or are close to somebody who has been harmed, by someone they identify with Christianity or with the Catholic Church.
The Object of Opening the Mind . . .
William-Adolphe Bouguereau's "Song of the Angels"
Sometimes it is possible to overcome emotional barriers with the power of imagination. It's not that God or the matter of our Faith is imaginary, quite the opposite. It is that evidence is not self-interpreting, it needs a mind to interpret, a mind open to sometimes unsettling truths. Things that engage the imagination such as art, music, and stories (including films and television programs) don't simply work on the intellect, they create new emotional experiences that can sometimes shake and loosen habits of mind cemented in place by previous experiences. Jesus took full advantage of this truth about human nature when he taught in parables. Freed from these old barriers, we are able to see reality in a new light. The well- known Catholic blogger Fr. John Zuhlsdorf (a.k.a. Fr. Z), for instance, was a Lutheran who, after hearing a beautiful work of sacred polyphony on the radio, started to view Catholicism in a different way; this was the first step in his conversion, and eventual ordination as a Catholic priest.
G. K. Chesterton once said: "The object of opening the mind, as of opening the mouth, is to shut it again on something solid." An important purpose of so many of the tangible and beautiful things in Catholic worship, all the chanting, vestments, smells and bells, is to expand the imagination so that our minds are opened large enough to receive the Gospel of Jesus Christ.
There is, of course, a danger in reliance on the imagination: it can expand the mind in other, less wholesome, directions as well. The well-meaning but misguided creators of Star Trek, for instance, are just the tip of the iceberg, and much, perhaps most, of what else is on offer in the popular culture is considerably worse. Like our conscience, then, imagination must be properly formed. We should take seriously the power of works of imagination, both for good and for bad, always bearing in mind St. Paul's advice: "Finally, brethren, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is gracious, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things" (Phillipians 4:8). We might wish to remember the Apostle's words, and feel no guilt when we enjoy the beauty of Catholic music, art, or worship.
When we think of Beethoven, Sacred Music might not be the first thing that comes to mind. Sacred music wasn't Beethoven's main interest,but he was a Catholic composer and what he did compose was, as we might expect, moving, powerful . . . and simply beautiful. His Missa Solemnis is from the same time period as his magnificent 9th Symphony, at which point he was almost completely deaf (which is to say he probably never actually heard a note of it). My only complaint about this particular performance, which is conducted by Leonard Bernstein and features some of the best operatic singers of the time, is that it is in a concert hall and not a church. No matter, the few minutes you take to listen to this magnificent Kyrie from one of the all-time greats will be abundantly rewarded.
When I posted a
clip of St.Thomas Aquinas’ well-known hymn Pange Lingua yesterday [here], I remarked on his ability
to express theological truths in poetic form.
Today we have another example in the hymn Panis Angelicus, which is
familiar even to secular audiences in 19th century composer
Cesar Franck’s lovely musical setting.
In the clip below Franck's version is beautifully sung by a young Franciscan known as
Friar Alessandro, upon whom God has apparently bestowed, as he did on his spiritual father
St. Francis, the gift of song.
St. Thomas wrote Panis
Angelicus as part of an entire liturgical cycle (both Mass and Divine Office)
for the feast of Corpus Christi (literally, “Body of Christ”, today formally
known as the Solemnity of the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ). Pange Lingua was part of this same
cycle. As is appropriate for a
celebration of the Lord’s gift of His own Body, Panis Angelicus
(literally, “Bread of Angels”) is a meditation on the Incarnation and the
Eucharist. It is also appropriate for
the Feast of the Nativity, in which we celebrate the moment when the Word became Flesh, and for that reason we hear it most often during the Christmas Season.
When we think of St. Thomas Aquinas, we most likely remember him as the greatest of Catholic theologians, and perhaps also as one of the most important philosophers in human history. We appreciate his ability to apply reason in a rigorous examination of every facet of Church teaching, and we find his arguments still apply in our controversies today (as I do here).
In spite of his very "left brain" reputation for rationality, St. Thomas was also an accomplished composer of hymns, some of which we still use almost 800 years later. Here, for instance, is Pange Lingua, which we sing during the Transfer of the Holy Sacrament after the Mass of the Lord's Supper on Holy Thursday; its last two verses are often sung as the Tantum Ergo during Benediction of the Blessed Sacrament. It is highly appropriate to both occasions because St. Thomas the hymn-writer was still St. Thomas the theologian: he uses the poetic language of the hymn to teach about the theology of the Incarnation and the Eucharist (see text below). And he does it beautifully.
Gregorio
Allegri, who lived from 1582 to 1652, is most well known for his for
magnificent 7-voice setting for Psalm 51, his “Miserere”. As it happens, that
was just one many beautiful compositions. His biographical entry on
Wikipedia tells us:
Among Allegri's
musical compositions were two volumes of concerti for five voices published in
1618 and 1619; two volumes of motets for six voices published in 1621; an
edition of a four-part sinfonia; five masses; two settings of the Lamentations of Jeremiah; and numerous
motets which were not published in his lifetime. He was one of the earliest
composers for stringed
instruments,
and Athanasius Kircher has given one specimen of this
class of his works in his Musurgia. Most of Allegri's
published music, especially the instrumental music, is in the progressive early
Baroque concertato style. However, his work for the
Sistine Chapel is descended from the Palestrina style, and in some cases strips
even this refined, simple style of all ornament. He is credited with the
earliest string
quartet.
As the
beautiful “Sanctus” above makes clear, Allegri has more than one jewel in his
treasury.
William Byrd, the composer of the "Credo" performed by the Tallis Scholars in the clip below, was an unusually interesting character. One of the leading Anglican composers during the early part of English Queen Elizabeth I's reign, he converted to Catholicism in the 1570's, at a time when it was becoming increasingly dangerous to be a practicing Catholic in England. He persevered in the Catholic faith in the face of some serious disincentives: for the last five decades of his life he was forced to pay a heavy recusancy tax for failure to attend Church of England services, and often faced other difficulties as well. Some of his Catholic associates were put to death because of their Catholicism. Byrd's emphasis on Biblical texts involving themes such as the Babylonian Captivity has long been taken as a musical commentary on the plight of Catholics in Elizabethan England.
I suppose I should mention that he wrote some incredibly beautiful music. The excerpt below, for instance, taken from hisMass for Four Voices, one of a large number of Catholic liturgical pieces Byrd composed in the 1590's and 1600's for use in illegal (and quite hazardous) Masses at the home of his patron, Sir John Petre. Interestingly, he continued to compose music for the Anglican Church as well, some of which continued in use for a century or more after his death.
One final, intriguing note on this most intriguing of Catholic composers: he, along with fellow composers (but not fellow Catholics) John Merbecke and Thomas Tallis, claims November 21st as his feast day on the liturgical calendar of the U.S. Episcopal Church (a member church of the Anglican Communion).
When it comes to music, my favorite century is the 18th (with honorable mention to the 17th), but it's been downhill since the early 19th. There are occasional pieces or composers from more recent times, however, who rise above general run of their era. Such is Norwegian-born composer Ola Gjeilo, who is very recent indeed, having been born in 1978, the same year St. John Paul the Great was elevated to the Papacy. I can't tell from the biographical information I've seen whether or not he is a believer, or whether he simply finds the Christian (particularly the Catholic) tradition a particularly rich vein to mine for musical inspiration, but religious music has been a large part of his output to date: he has composed a Mass, for instance, and a breath-taking "Sanctus" (I've posted a clip here), a piece called Dark Night of the Soul (a title, at least, inspired by St. John of the Cross), and the piece featured here, his own musical setting for the ancient hymn "Ubi Caritas" (you can find the Latin words with English translation at the bottom of the page). In this clip, the composer himself improvises a piano accompaniment to Central Washington University Chamber Choir (to see the choir sing the hymn unaccompanied, click here).
Latin Text Ubi caritas et amor, Deus ibi est. Congregavit nos in unum Christi amor. Exsultemus, et in ipso jucundemur. Timeamus, et amemus Deum vivum. Et ex corde diligamus nos sincero.
Ubi caritas et amor,
Deus ibi est.
Simul ergo cum in unum congregamur:
Ne nos mente dividamur, caveamus.
Cessent iurgia maligna, cessent lites.
Et in medio nostri sit Christus Deus.
Ubi caritas et amor,
Deus ibi est.
Simul quoque cum beatis videamus,
Glorianter vultum tuum, Christe Deus:
Gaudium quod est immensum, atque probum,
Saecula per infinita saeculorum. Amen.
English
Translation
Where charity and love are, God is there.
Love of Christ has gathered us into one.
Let us rejoice in Him and be glad.
Let us fear, and let us love the living God.
And from a sincere heart let us love one.
Where charity and love
are, God is there.
At the same time, therefore, are gathered into one:
Lest we be divided in mind, let us beware.
Let evil impulses stop, let controversy cease.
And in the midst of us be Christ our God.
Not all modern music is dark and discordant. 37 year old composer Ola Gjeilo appears to have embraced the old idea, which over the last century or so has often been neglected or even intentionally defied, that music ought to be beautiful. He also seems drawn to Christian musical expression. The clip below, for instance, is an inspiring setting for the "Sanctus" ("Holy, Holy, Holy"), performed by the Central Washington University Chamber Choir (I have also posted a clip. here, of the same group performing Gjeilo's setting for another ancient hymn, "Ubi Caritas" with the composer himself playing piano accompaniment).
Sanctus, Sanctus, Sanctus Dominus DeusSabaoth. Pleni sunt cæli et terra gloria tua. Hosannain excelsis. Benedictus qui venit in nomine Domini. Hosanna in excelsis.
Holy, Holy, Holy Lord God of hosts. Heaven and earth are full of your glory. Hosanna in the highest. Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord. Hosanna in the highest.
