Besides- how am I to be sure that my opinions are right? That my theology is right? That my view of what liturgy is or should be is right?

Of course, I THINK I’m right- but that’s hardly comfort. Everyone thinks that.

So advocating direct liturgical action on behalf of a specific point of view seems (to me) a dangerous path.

Rather- I advocate for the tradition of the Church, what Chesterton called “The democracy of the dead,” trusting that God has been, and continues to be, revealed within that tradition. (My gushing about the beauty of certain kinds of music is the best I have to offer as far as why I believe that God is better revealed in traditional music instead of music we just made up yesterday.)

I would rather rely on tradition to lead us into a relationship and experience of the Holy Spirit, and then let the Holy Spirit bring all of us into the truth. (Whether that happens to be what I currently think is the truth, or not).

How does this fit with the principle that “the law of worship establishes the law of belief?” It seems to me that if one wants to alter the Church from her received constitution, one does literally have to “sing a new church into being”; for if one keeps on worshiping in the received way, one will tend to practice a received religion and believe the theology received through the liturgical texts and practices. If one wants the religion to be an immanent expression of the believing community (or, for that matter, of the individual believer’s ideas!), it would be prudent to not emphasize tradition at the expense of evolutionism. So, for instance, if you believe that God established the Church on the rock of St. Peter and gave to the Church of Rome the charism of eternal fidelity to immutable and sacred tradition, such that the Pope, when acting as universal and immediate shepherd, always interprets sacred tradition faithfully and truly, you will probably be more likely to continue to pray the prayers that speak of the Pope as ruling, pastoring, and governing the flock of Christ. If you think that the constitution of the Church comes through the religious sensibility of the people over and above the interpretation of tradition offered by the Pope and the rest of the magisterium, you might prefer to alter these prayers to have an immanent or democratic feel.

Similarly with the altar. If you believe that the Mass is an expression of divine worship wherein the priest offers a sacrifice to almighty God for and with the people, you will be more likely to wish to maintain the tradition of priest and people facing a liturgical east; and, conversely, if you think of the Mass as a communal meal, the work of the people, a celebration of the worshiping community, you may wish to create a circle between the presiding priest and the worshiping community, where everyone can see each other and participate together.

Chant too reflects theology. Certainly the texts are either scriptural or ecclesial compositions that are chosen to reflect a received faith– though we all know that we can sing Gregorian Chant about turkeys on Thanksgiving or what animals do on farms, if we want! Yet, more than that, Chant reflects a theology about spiritual worship. In chant, the human voice takes precedence, the text and the words are never drowned out by instrumentation. Chant is usually dominated by the text so that it can be said correctly that chant is verbal decoration of a text. But sometimes chant breaks out into jubilation (the “jubilus”) and begins to sing a praise beyond words. Whether a chant is a preeminent example of reasonable worship, or whether it transgresses into a realm beyond words, chant is always expresses a conception of spiritual worship that holds up the voice as the highest expression of spiritual worship sound can produce, placing it above instruments of every kind. We could attempt to make a lot of distinctions between “Appolonian” and “Dionesian” worship, between the power of music that appeals to passions, animality, and sexuality, causing reason to give way to them, in comparison to music that seems to lift up the human passions into a share in the spiritual and divine. But no matter what phenominological examination we do, it seems safe to say that those who think of passionate, emotional experience in Church as essential to “experiencing God” will, at least at first, have a difficult time approaching chant, because its full power is in moving the mind more than it is in stirring the gut, the heart, the blood. In this regard I can say that I know Catholic Charismatics, both young and old, who would have difficulty with Gregorian Chant precisely because its lack of metered rhythm, or simple melodies, or repeated choruses, or emotionally charged lyrics, or passionately provocative instrumentation is less suited to produce in them certain types of experiences. And their theology is based on experiential encounter with God.

No matter how we slice it, praxy and doxy are intertwined. It is not in the least surprising to me that doctrinal traditionalists tend toward traditional orthopraxy, whereas doctrinal modernists tend toward worship dominated by a zeitgeist.

And 10 amateurs?! That sounds perfect. (I have a choir of only 8 amateurs, and they sing Chant beautifully.)

Would it be helpful to point you in the direction of some free resources online for learning how and what to chant?

Also- where are you located? – Is Mass in English or another language?

First, thanks for this series.

Second, amen and amen to this: “I do not believe that the liturgy is the place to pursue agendas or hash out theological or ecclesiological disagreements.” I sing with a few different scholas and choirs in the area. I am sure some of my fellow singers in these groups are to my left, a few may even be to my right. But we are all together to sing to God’s glory and to offer our service to the people who come to worship at the chapels and parishes where we sing. In all of these groups we are being the best side of conservative (conserving/preserving the best of our heritage) and liberal (what we have freely received we are freely giving away). One of the groups I get to sing with on occasion is the schola amicorum, resident at the Cathedral, and that name really could fit for all the groups: we become friends through our shared effort on behalf of others.

Of all the “new” music that was commonly sung in the 70s and 80s while I was in high school and college, the music I most liked was from the St. Louis Jesuits, and the reason was because it was so closely based on Scripture. And of course, the chant is the same, being mostly Scriptural quotations which are allowed to guide the music, so that the music begins with inspiration, inspires the very notes and has the chance to fill both singer and listener with this breath from God.