Florida State University Libraries
2016 Performing Community: Benedictine Chant in Post-Vatican II Catholicism Brian Eric Wilcoxon
Follow this and additional works at the FSU Digital Library. For more information, please contact [email protected] FLORIDA STATE UNIVERSITY
COLLEGE OF MUSIC
PERFORMING COMMUNITY:
BENEDICTINE CHANT IN
POST-VATICAN II CATHOLICISM
By
BRIAN WILCOXON
A Dissertation submitted to the College of Music in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy
2016
© 2016 Brian Wilcoxon Brian Wilcoxon defended this dissertation on April 13, 2016.
The members of the supervisory committee were:
Charles E. Brewer Professor Directing Dissertation
Joseph Hellweg University Representative
Douglass Seaton Committee Member
Frank Gunderson Committee Member
The Graduate School has verified and approved the above-named committee members, and certifies that the dissertation has been approved in accordance with university requirements.
ii
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
A work of this scope required the support, encouragement, and cooperation of many individuals. First and foremost, I would like to thank Charles E. Brewer who patiently guided me, pushed me when necessary, and recognized my potential despite my sometimes- elementary mistakes. I owe an enormous debt to Douglass Seaton, Frank Gunderson, and
Joseph Hellweg, who edited and critiqued each sentence and idea of my manuscript. Any lingering errors of style or content are solely mine. I would also like to thank Denise Von
Glahn, whose Fall 2011 doctoral seminar on musical institutions sparked my first interest in this topic. I hope that some part of my work lives up to her standard at being academically rigorous and broadly accessible. Finally, I am forever grateful for the support of the community of faculty and students in the Florida State Musicology program for embracing and ΛΝΘΘΗΚΜΑng Μhe BΑg M Αdeal Ηf ΗΝΚ dΑΛcΑΘlΑne.
My fieldwork was generously funded by the Carol Krebs Scholar Award for
Dissertation Research and the Curtis Mayes Fund from Florida State University. These fellowships enabled me to make trips to the three monasteries in this study, and I am thankful fΗΚ Μhe ΗΘΘΗΚΜΝnΑΜΑeΛ ΜheΡ ΘΚΗvΑded. I am alΛΗ gΚaΜefΝl fΗΚ Μhe fΝndΑng I have ΚeceΑved fΚΗm the Department of Physics at Florida State in exchange for my advising services. Jonathan
Harris, Susan Blessing, Eva Crowdis, and Michelle Bravo deserve special recognition for their flexibility and understanding as I finished my academic work, and I thank the entire department for their encouragement.
The Benedictine communities at Solesmes, St. Leo, and Clear Creek were incredibly supportive of me both as a human and as a researcher. They provided not only intellectual
iii stimulation during my visits, but friendship, peace, delicious food, and an ideal environment in which to conduct research and write. (Special thanks to the Solesmes brothers for giving me clothing and helping me navigate the bureaucracy of luggage recovery from Air France.)
The Guest Masters at each of these institutions, Fr. Michael Bozell, Br. Stanislaw Sullivan, and
Fr. Mark Bachmann, were instrumental in helping me organize my stays, and they were incredibly generous with their time both during and after my visits. I would also like to thank all of the other visitors I spoke with who offered their support, advice, and insight into my project. During my fieldwork at Solesmes, I had a chance encounter with Thomas Forrest
Kelly, who kindly let me sit in on his lectures to the monks about their own history. I am forever grateful that he allowed me into his world, and illuminated for me the impressive feat
Ηf chanΜ ΚeΛΜΗΚaΜΑΗn. MΡ ΛΑnceΚeΛΜ ΜhanΓΛ ΜΗ FΚ. SΜeΘhan JΝng and MaΚΡ MΚΛ. Z ZΑglΑnΛΓΑ, both of whom have made concerted efforts to help me in whatever ways possible. My unlikely but continued friendship with both of them is a true source of joy and an unexpected bi-product of my fieldwork.
On a personal note, I would like to thank my friends and family who challenged me to refine my ideas, discuss complex processes in accessible language, and tolerated my mental and
ΘhΡΛΑcal abΛence Ηn nΝmeΚΗΝΛ ΗccaΛΑΗnΛ. The SΜ. JΗhn Λ CΗmΘlΑne ChΗΑΚ haΛ gΑven me an opportunity to practice what I preach, and I thank them for their support and openness. I am constantly humbled by the graciousness and patience of our Family Kevin and Cheri Karau;
AD & UT; Sheli, Brian, and Stevie Daum; Grandma and Grandpa Rose; Grandma Sue and
Bruce; Grandpa Don; Aunts, Uncles, Cousins who have tolerated our absence from the home-base and encouraged us at every step. The ever-revolving cast of characters in the Steve
Holt! trivia team have ensured that I not only make it out of the house, but that I enjoy the
iv time away from my work. Jason and Sarah Wilcoxon have provided me with unexpected insight and joy beyond words, and I feel so lucky that we have been able to spend the last several years together. My Mom and Dad have supported me in every way imaginable; were I given a thousand lifetimes to repay them, I would still come up short. And finally, to my wife
Kimi, who has challenged me, worked with me, held me, and loved me through every part of this process: Please share in the joy of the completion of this work; I could not have made it without you.
v
TABLE OF CONTENTS
List of Figures...... vii Abstract ...... viii
INTRODUCTION MUSIC HISTORY, MONKS, AND BIG M MUSICOLOGY ...... 1
CHAPTER ONE ST. BENEDICT S OPUS DEI: THE MONASTIC UNDERSTANDING OF THE WORK OF GOD ...... 5
CHAPTER TWO GREGORIAN CHANT AND THE IDEALIZED PAST ...... 37
CHAPTER THREE SOLESMES: CHANT, LITURGY, AND THE CHARISM OF TRADITION ...... 68
CHAPTER FOUR ST. LEO ABBEY: LIVING THE CULTURE OF VATICAN II ..... 108
CHAPTER FIVE LIKE SOLESMES IN OKLAHOMA : OUR LADY OF THE ANNUNCIATION OF CLEAR CREEK ABBEY ...... 148
CONCLUSION WHAT IF…? ...... 177
APPENDICES ...... 187
A. BENEDICT S GUIDELINES FOR THE DIVINE OFFICE ...... 187 B. IRB STATEMENT ON ORAL HISTORY PROJECTS ...... 192
BIBLIOGRAPHY ...... 193
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH ...... 199
vi
LIST OF FIGURES
3.1. Original floorplan of the Solesmes church ...... 87 3.2. 1863 addition ...... 87 3.3. Statue of St. Peter inside the Solesmes abbatial church. Photograph by Author...... 93 4.1. St. Leo Abbey gift shop. Photograph by Author...... 116 4.2. St. Leo Abbey church. Photograph by Author...... 116 4.3. Monastic Mississippis. Photograph by Author...... 128
vii
ABSTRACT
Gregorian chant is typically thought of as a product of the early medieval era. Its monophonic melodies evoke a simple beginning from which Western music evolved; its timbres are associated with the austere monuments of the early Church; its image on the page is somewhat familiar, but foreign; even its present-day performers appear to be from an entirely different time.
Despite its origins and the fact that it is typically studied as a historical artifact, chant is also part of a living institution worthy of examination. This dissertation discusses Benedictine music and ritual in relation to their historical origins and within the Rule of St. Benedict, but also in their current states as performed and embodied traditions. The sociological models of habitus and meshwork allow study of these cultural products in their present states while keeping mindful of their origins and their accumulation of meaning over the course of many centuries. Through performance of ritual, Benedictines form communitas that structures and unites them while simultaneously integrating new people and ideas into their group.
The Gregorian repertoire as it is known today is largely the work of the Solesmes monks who, in the nineteenth century, collected, edited, and revitalized this body of music.
Their efforts bear many traits of its time, including a subsequent Romantic reading of the repertoire as a whole, which this dissertation contends with. By using ethnographic fieldwork to observe chant performance in its modern context, I depart from the standard narrative and discuss how Benedictine communities use music and ritual to reinforce and create their complex system of beliefs.
While the ethnographic chapters look at many factors of musical performance, each is
viii somewhat focused on a particular issue. Chapter 3 discusses how the monks at Solesmes use music as a vehicle for institutional traditions, and as a means of embodying completely their spiritual texts. Chapter 4 shows how the monks at St. Leo Abbey tear down cultural boundaries and draw outsiders into the mysteries of their faith through invitatory musical practices. As I discuss in that chapter, though, the lack of distinguished borders can be problematic when a community such as this is too easily moved by outside groups. Chapter 5 shows how the monks at Clear Creek Abbey use music as a means of exclusion and of strengthening the communitas of their monastic body. These three chapters draw on fieldwork I conducted at those monasteries, including interviews with monks and visitors and analysis of the rituals I observed.
The primary goal of this dissertation is to show how a repertoire regarded mostly for its historical presence is, in fact, rich with present-day meaning. Through ritual performance, monks recall the past while also integrating their lives and experiences into their stream of traditions. A secondary goal is to use this work as a pedagogical model for future scholars who may be similarly inspired to research taken for granted musical traditions.
ix
INTRODUCTION
MUSIC HISTORY, MONKS, AND BIG M MUSICOLOGY
My colleague Kate was just beginning to teach an introductory music history course at
Florida State University, and she approached me with a series of questions. As they studied
Gregorian chant, she talked to her class about my fieldwork, which led them to ponder some intricacies of monastic life: Do they have electricity? Do they have lights? How do they tell time? I smiled at the naïveté but answered all the same: YeΛ, ΜheΡ have elecΜΚΑcΑΜΡ and lights.
And most of the monks I met had cell phΗneΛ. I ΜhΗΝghΜ fΗΚ a mΗmenΜ befΗΚe addΑng, BΝΜ, they also have church bells that leΜ Μhem ΓnΗΟ Μhe vaΚΑΗΝΛ hΗΝΚΛ Ηf Μhe daΡ. She asked me
ΛeveΚal mΗΚe ΙΝeΛΜΑΗnΛ ΜhaΜ nΑghΜ, and ΗΝΚ cΗnveΚΛaΜΑΗn ended ΟΑΜh heΚ eΠclaΑmΑng, MΡ
ΛΜΝdenΜΛ aΚe ΛΗ ΑnΜeΚeΛΜed Αn ΟhaΜ mΗnΓΛ aΚe lΑΓe! I ΟaΛ delΑghΜed that young people seemed to have some interest in the subjects of my topic.
Each time I think about this conversation, I am amused by Μhe deΜaΑlΛ KaΜe Λ ΛΜΝdenΜΛ asked about. Few of their questions were musically related; instead, they were interested in how monks navigate a world that is so anachronistic with their medieval origin. But I must confess that my own initial questions about monks were similarly simple and focused on the types of details that many musicologists would consider trivial and inconsequential. Of course
I was interested in music as it related to the institution of monasticism, and I took my duties as a musicologist seriously. But I wondered, more broadly, what it is like to be a monk today.
1
How do they spend their time? How do they interact with people and technology? What do they eat? And what is their relationship to their spaces, their rituals, and their music?
Perhaps it is not surprising that I and so many others have a fascination with monks.
They appear in the front pages of music history texts, and then they disappear replaced by troubadours, trouvères, Minnesingers, and the Notre Dame School. Plainchant evΗlveΛ ΑnΜΗ increasingly sophisticated styles of polyphony that build to the paradigmatic works of Bach.
Monks revisit our histories from time to time: they write the Carmina Burana, help edit chant manuscripts, and even make recordings. Their brief appearances remind readers of their presence, but the fascinating stories and details of music history are more-often-than-not relegated to single figures mostly men, mostly with German-sounding names.
One can hardly blame the writers of history; no one expects a survey text to focus solely on chant, or to spend extensive page-space on monasteries or monks. And yet, for a discipline that constantly evaluates how past musics maintain a present-day influence through their contemporaneous performance, musicology has largely neglected the fact that its earliest musical ancestor is still celebrated daily in monasteries all over the world.
This dissertation is not a history of Gregorian chant, an analysis of its written documents, or an argument for one performance style or another. These topics have been
(and continue to be) covered by many dedicated scholars. What I propose to do here is to discuss the phenomenology of contemporary performed chant a tradition that is literally lived and breathed by monastic communities.
In the first chapter, I discuss the Rule of St. Benedict and the textual basis for communal chant. Using IngΗld Λ meshwork and BΗΝΚdΑeΝ Λ habitus frameworks, I explain the sociological underpinnings for the practice of group performance, and how the system of
2 ritual practiced in monasteries creates communitas. In chapter 2, I briefly outline the history of chant from its revitalization by the Solesmes monks in the mid-nineteenth century, to its place in the Vatican II reforms, and its reincorporation into Catholic liturgy through the writings and papacy of Pope Benedict XVI. Chapters 3, 4, and 5 are ethnographies of each of my fieldwork locations: Abbaye Saint Pierre in Solesmes, France; St. Leo Abbey in St. Leo,
Florida; and Our Lady of Clear Creek Abbey in Hulbert, Oklahoma. At each place I examined how music and ritual sends implicit and explicit messages, and how those messages differ based on the locations, the material, and the people involved. While I recognize that performing music together naturally builds community, I describe through detailed performance analysis how monks mediate the space between heaven and earth through their music. In each of those chapters, I include the words of monks and visitors to reinforce and refine my observations and understand how others think about these topics. I conclude this work by comparing the results of my fieldwork with the theories discussed in chapter 1, and by examining how monastic practice conforms to and deviates from the theoretical expectations.
This project is atypical in regard to most works on chant or early music. While I am interested in Gregorian chant as a distinct repertoire, I focus more on the phenomenology of performed chant. Ethnomusicologist Timothy Rice has advocated for a phenomenological process, stating that the heΚmeneΝΜΑc aΚc PaΝl RΑcΗeΝΚ Λ ΜeΚm fΗΚ Μhe ΘΚΗceΛΛ Ηf mΗvΑng from understanding to verbalization of music
. . . begins with pre-understanding of music, either as a performer or as a listener who finds it coherent, and passes through a structural explanation of music as sound,
3
behavior, and cognition, to arrive at an interpretation and new understanding of the world or culture referenced by music acting as symbol.1
This type of phenomenological approach enables a type of study that has heretofore been neglected for a repertoire like chant, but that is necessary for understanding the full impact of this music. My choice to place so great an emphasis on ethnomusicological methods was no accident: the Musicology faculty of Florida State University have emphasized, from the very beginning of my studies, the connection between musicology and ethnomusicology. We are membeΚΛ Ηf Μhe Λame famΑlΡ, Οe aΚe ΜΗld, and ΜΗgeΜheΚ Οe fΗΚm a BΑg M MΝΛΑcΗlΗgΡ that is, a discipline that wholly encompasses and respects both of its constituents. My dissertation advisor, Dr. Charles Brewer, has described this approach as hΑΛΜΗΚΑcal eΜhnΗmΝΛΑcΗlΗgΡ ΜhaΜ seeks to make sense of the unknown past through a present lens. This method is hardly unique; in the last year, both Heather Paudler and Sarah Kahre have defended dissertations that similarly synthesize historical repertoire with ethnomusicological methods. Their precedence is much appreciated, as is the willingness of the members of my committee to allow this non-traditional work to flourish. Although it may seem unusual to carry out research like this, I believe it is breaking new ground for what our discipline does and is capable of discovering.
1 TΑmΗΜhΡ RΑce, TΗΟaΚd a MedΑaΜΑΗn Ηf FΑeld MeΜhΗdΛ and FΑeld EΠΘeΚΑence Αn EΜhnΗmΝΛΑcΗlΗgΡ, Αn Shadows in the Field: New Perspectives for Fieldwork in Ethnomusicology, 2nd ed., ed. Gregory Barz and Timothy J. Cooley (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2008), 56. 4
CHAPTER ONE
ST. BENEDICT’S OPUS DEI: THE MONASTIC UNDERSTANDING OF THE WORK OF GOD
I had been at the Abbey of St. Peter in Solesmes for about a week when I began to be troubled by one peculiarity: Not all the monks attended the early morning Office of Vigils.
As far as I was aware, attendance at all of the monastic hours was mandatory, as discussed in the guide for Benedictine living, the Rule of St. Benedict.2 I had noticed other practices that were inconsistent with the Regula Sancti Benedicti, too: Terce was said as part of the daily
Mass; Prime was skipped altogether; Sext and None sandwiched lunch a meal that often contained Μhe ΘΚΗhΑbΑΜed meat of four-fΗΗΜed anΑmalΛ, and almΗΛΜ alΟaΡΛ ΚemΑnded me ΜhaΜ, even though I was living amongst the humble Benedictine monks, they had not given up the finer delicacies of French cuisine.
My curiosity about this situation overtook me during an evening walk with my primary interlocutor, Fr. Michael Bozell the only American who had taken his vocation at
Solesmes, and the only monk with whom I could hold a full conversation in English. Fr.
Michael was close to my height abΗΝΜ 6 0 and appeared to have a thin frame under his habit. His hair, like that of the other monks, was kept very short and barely revealed his slight baldness and the color of his sides fading from blonde to white. Despite his age and his
ΝΛΝallΡ ΙΝΑeΜ demeanΗΚ, FΚ. MΑchael Λ face ΟaΛ ΡΗΝΜhfΝl, ΟaΚm, and ΙΝΑcΓ ΜΗ eΠΘΚeΛΛ ΒΗΡ.
2 ThΚΗΝghΗΝΜ ΜhΑΛ ΟΗΚΓ, I caΘΑΜalΑΣe BenedΑcΜ Λ RΝle, ΜΗ dΑffeΚenΜΑaΜe ΑΜ fΚΗm ΗΜheΚ ΚΝleΛ. 5
Aside from being the only American monk at Solesmes, Fr. Michael also ΛeΚved aΛ Μhe abbeΡ Λ
Père Hôtelier the guest master so we often crossed paths. As we walked through the gardens of the monastery, talking about life, my work, and other miscellaneous topics, he asked,
HΗΟ ΑΛ Μhe fΗΗd? AΚe ΡΗΝ eaΜΑng Οell? I laΝghed, and wondered aloud if his question was serious. My tone revealed that I was not only pleased, but genuinely delighted by every meal.
He smiled as someone does when receiving exactly the answer he hopes for.
Well, I ΛΜaΚΜed, mΡ ΟΑfe ΟanΜed me ΜΗ bΚΑng a ΛΝΑΜcaΛe Ηf gΚanΗla baΚΛ becaΝΛe Λhe
ΟaΛ ΟΗΚΚΑed ΜhaΜ I ΟΗΝld be ΛeΚved gΚΝel. ThaΜ gave Fr. Michael a hearty laugh, and he repeated the word after me gruel. I dΑdn Μ ΜhΑnΓ ΜhΑngΛ ΟΗΝld be ΜhaΜ bad, I ΛaΑd, bΝΜ I dΑdn Μ eΠΘecΜ ΜhaΜ I mΑghΜ cΗme bacΓ heavΑeΚ Μhan I had ΛΜaΚΜed. And Μhe ΟΑne!
BelΑeve ΑΜ ΗΚ nΗΜ, Fr. MΑchael ΛaΑd, ΜhaΜ Λ ΒΝΛΜ a ΒΝnΓΡ BΗΚdeaΝΠ. I smiled at the way
Fr. Michael discredited their supply, as if it had fallen off a truck headed to the dump.
BΝΜ ΚeallΡ, I ΛaΑd, geΜΜΑng ΛeΚΑΗΝΛ, Μhe mealΛ aΚe eΠcellenΜ heΚe, and ΜheΡ aΚe nΗΜ aΜ all what I had expected based on the . . . I ΛeaΚched fΗΚ Μhe ΟΗΚd, . . . modesty described in
BenedΑcΜ Λ Rule. We ΟalΓed a feΟ mΗΚe paces, and Fr. Michael gestured for us to sit down for a moment.
Can I aΛΓ ΡΗΝ anΗΜheΚ ΙΝeΛΜΑΗn abΗΝΜ Μhe Rule? I aΛΓed.
Of cΗΝΚΛe, Fr. Michael replied.
Well, I nΗΜΑced ΜhaΜ ΜheΚe aΚe a feΟ mΗnΓΛ ΟhΗ dΗn Μ ΘaΚΜΑcΑΘaΜe Αn VΑgΑlΛ. Is this cΗΚΚecΜ?
CΗΚΚecΜ, he ΚeΘlΑed.
And ΡΗΝ ΡΗΝΚΛelf dΗ nΗΜ aΜΜend ΜhaΜ OffΑce, ΚΑghΜ?
RΑghΜ, he ΛaΑd.
6
I am not sure what reaction I had expected from this question, but he was much more matter-of-fact than I had anticipated. I continued, now more straightforward: AΛ a mΗnΓ, aren Μ ΡΗΝ ΛΝΘΘΗΛed ΜΗ be aΜ all Μhe ΛeΚvΑceΛ? IΛn Μ ΜhΑΛ ΡΗΝΚ ΒΗb?
Well yes, he began, the Opus Dei is our work, but I m alΛΗ very busy as the guest master of the hotel. He ΘaΝΛed, and I ΟaΑΜed fΗΚ hΑm ΜΗ eΠΘlaΑn fΝΚΜheΚ. Vigils is really for those monks who can do it all and then still have even more to give. I have a lot of work to do as the guest master, ΛΗ I m ΝΛΝallΡ eΠΜΚemelΡ ΜΑΚed.
I appreciated Fr. MΑchael Λ hΗneΛΜ ΚeΛΘΗnΛe, bΝΜ privately I wondered if this was a valid excuse. He could read my questioning face, so he began to teach me.
WhaΜ ΑΛ Μhe bΑggeΛΜ ΜhΑng ΜhaΜ ΛΜandΛ ΗΝΜ ΜΗ ΡΗΝ abΗΝΜ SΜ. BenedΑcΜ Λ Rule? he aΛΓed.
Such a broad question from nowhere left me searching for words. Of course I knew the Rule well its beauty was a major factor in attracting me to this topic but I had never tried to summarize its contents into a single overarching point. Desperate to make a good impression on my host, and to show my understanding of the document, I yammered about BenedΑcΜ Λ attention to community, the fact that it was at once a very spiritual document but also very practical, and that I was impressed by his exactitude in creating order.
OΓay, ΛaΑd Fr. MΑchael, gΝΑdΑng me ΜhΚΗΝgh hΑΛ leΛΛΗn, but how do you think St.
Benedict Λ Rule differs fΚΗm Μhe ΗΜheΚ ΚΝleΛ ΜhaΜ had cΗme befΗΚe hΑm? In mΡ eageΚneΛΛ ΜΗ study Benedict, I had made a crucial error by ignoring his predecessors. I stammered for a bit befΗΚe fΑnallΡ admΑΜΜΑng ΜhaΜ I had nΗ Αdea hΗΟ BenedΑcΜ Λ ΚΝle ΟaΛ ΚevΗlΝΜΑΗnaΚΡ.
Well, ΜhΑΛ mΑghΜ nΗΜ cΗme acΚΗΛΛ ΜΗ an ΗΝΜΛΑdeΚ, Fr. MΑchael ΛaΑd, bΝΜ SΜ. BenedΑcΜ Λ
Rule ΑΛ eΠΜΚemelΡ fleΠΑble. I ΛΜaΚed aΜ hΑm, blank-faced. If you read the Rule clΗΛelΡ, ΡΗΝ ll see that he was trying to create a system that could bend to the needs of the monks. This was
7 different from the other monastic Fathers, because their rules were rigid. What makes
BenedΑcΜ Λ Rule so attractive is that it allows for a certain amount of freedom, so it has been able to adapt over time. This was not the case with his predecessors, and this is one of the main reasons why St. BenedΑcΜ Λ Rule ΟaΛ ΛΗ ΑmΘΗΚΜanΜ ΜΗ ΛΝΛΜaΑnable mΗnaΛΜΑc lΑfe.
This quick, informal conversation changed my entire perspective on Benedict and monasticism. Until that moment, I had read the Regula Sancti Benedicti as a guide to be followed precisely. Of course, I knew that very few monasteries or individual monks were so firm, but it had not occurred to me that liberties were only permitted, but that Benedict Λ intentional openness is what differentiated his Rule from earlier ones.
For many reasons, one is tempted to read the Rule from a fundamentalist perspective.
In hΑΛ aΚΜΑcle SacΚed TeΠΜΛ, ΘΗlΑΜΑcal ΘhΑlΗΛΗΘheΚ FΚed Frohock argues that sacred text
ΑnvΑΜeΛ the whole person to the community of believers, and attends to a full inventory of
ΚΝleΛ and ΘΚΑncΑΘleΛ fΗΚ Μhe mΗΚal lΑfe, ΑnclΝdΑng Μhe ΑnΜegΚΑΜΡ Ηf Μhe ΘeΚΛΗn. 3 Frohock compares the reading, interpretation, and believability of sacred and secular prescriptive texts, concluding that the boundaries of the permissible are typically narrower in religions than in the guiding frameworks of a liberal democracy becaΝΛe ΚelΑgΑΗnΛ have dΑffeΚenΜ eΠΘecΜaΜΑΗnΛ
Ηf cΗmmΑΜmenΜ. 4 And yet, while the Benedictines are a religious organization, the Rule is not neceΛΛaΚΑlΡ a ΛacΚed dΗcΝmenΜ; ΑnΛΜead, ΑΜ ΑΛ ΟΑΜhΑn Μhe Κealm Ηf ΟhaΜ FΚΗhΗcΓ callΛ
ΚelΑgΑΗΝΛ ΜeΠΜΛ ΟhΑch ΘΚΗvΑde ΘΚagmaΜΑc ΑnΛΜΚΝcΜΑΗn, bΝΜ ΟΑΜhΗΝΜ Μhe need fΗΚ cΗmΘlΑance expected from a sacred text.5 Nonetheless, the name of Benedict carries a tremendous amount of cachet in Western culture, specifically because of monasticism. The general weight of
3 FΚed M. FΚΗhΗcΓ, SacΚed TeΠΜΛ, Religion 33, no. 1 (2013): 10, doi: 10.1016/S0048-721X(02)00061-1. 4 Ibid, 10-11. 5 Ibid. 8
BenedΑcΜ Λ ΚeΘΝΜaΜΑΗn, and Μhe ΗbedΑence Ηf Μhe mΗnΓΛ, led me ΜΗ belΑeve Αn Μhe strict practice of his Rule. However, that is not what Benedict intended, nor what his spiritual descendants have practiced.
Timothy Fry makes a similar observation in the HΑΛΜΗΚΑcal OΚΑenΜaΜΑΗn section of the scholarly edition of the Rule (RB 1980). Fry convincingly demonstrates how Benedict based his Rule on several other existing rules, especially the Regula Magistri (RM). According to Fry, BenedΑcΜ Λ RΝle haΛ ΚedΝced Μhe hΝge bΝlΓ Ηf Μhe RM bΡ mΗΚe Μhan ΜΟΗ ΜhΑΚdΛ,
ΚeΛΝlΜΑng Αn an enΗΚmΗΝΛ gaΑn Αn ΑnΜellΑgΑbΑlΑΜΡ and ΛΑmΘlΑcΑΜΡ. 6 While Fry concedes that
BenedΑcΜ Λ RΝle lacΓΛ Μhe gΚandeΝΚ Ηf RM, and ΑΛ leΛΛ ΛΜΚΝcΜΝΚallΡ cΗheΚenΜ in some instances, Μhe ΗveΚall effecΜ ΟaΛ ΘΗΛΑΜΑve. SΑmΘlΑfΑcaΜΑΗn haΛ been achΑeved, ΟΚΑΜeΛ Fry, bΡ omitting the innumerable details of observance, which soon ΚendeΚed Μhe RM anachΚΗnΑΛΜΑc. 7
The success of BenedΑcΜ Λ RΝle, argues Fry, is due to its adherence to monastic tradition and its summarization of the unifying themes present in most of the monastic rules up to that point.8 As Fry laΜeΚ ΟΚΑΜeΛ, NΗΜ ΗnlΡ dΑd ΑΜ cΗnΛΜΑΜΝΜe Μhe mΗΛΜ cΗmΘleΜe and maΛΜeΚfΝl synthesis of monastic tradition in its most catholic sense, but it did so in an enduring fashion, free from the narrowness of partial viewpoints and passing over ephemeral details of
ΗbΛeΚvance bΗΝnd ΜΗ ΘaΚΜΑcΝlaΚ cΑΚcΝmΛΜanceΛ. 9
TΗ mΗdeΚn eΡeΛ ΝnaΟaΚe Ηf eaΚlΑeΚ ΚΝleΛ, BenedΑcΜ Λ RΝle mΑght come across as burdensome; according to FΚΡ Λ commentary, however, its liberalism is evident when compared to its contemporaries. Benedict placed a greater emphasis on the power and
6 Benedict, RB 1980: The Rule of St. Benedict in Latin and English with Notes, trans. and ed. Timothy Fry (Collegeville, Minn.: Liturgical Press, 1981), 91. 7 Ibid. 8 Ibid., 84. 9 Ibid., 90. 9 judgment of the abbot, and in so doing respects the individuality of its adherents without micro-managing their behavior. BenedΑcΜ Λ emphasis on the abbot literally, father also highlights his desire to maintain a familial sense of community by putting a central leader in chaΚge. BenedΑcΜ Λ ΛΜΚeΛΛ Ηn haΚmΗnΑΗΝΛ lΑvΑng, Fry notes, is attributed to his close reading of
AΝgΝΛΜΑne Λ RΝle a document that, having been writΜen aΚΗΝnd 400, ΘΚecedeΛ BenedΑcΜ Λ work by over a century.10 Although it consists of just Λeven chaΘΜeΚΛ, AΝgΝΛΜΑne Λ RΝle similarly emphasizes the importance of community, a topic that he spends the entire first chapter discussing.11 Augustine references a ΛΝΘeΚΑΗΚ ΟhΗ ΑΛ ΜΗ be ΗbeΡed aΛ a faΜheΚ a role that is an obvious predecessor to the Benedictine abbot. While Augustine ordains the superior with a significant amount of power, he does not spell out as Benedict does other positions, such as the novice master or permanent guest master. In fact, these posts were absent from all BenedΑcΜ Λ ΘΚedeceΛΛΗΚΛ, aΛ ΟeΚe ΛΘecΑfΑcaΜΑΗnΛ Ηf ΛΘecΑal places such as the infirmary or novice area.12
Given BenedΑcΜ Λ ΚaΜheΚ mΗdeΚaΜe ΛΜance, the following discussion should not be understood to imply his Rule is a rigid document; rather, it is a ΜΡΘe Ηf mΗnaΛΜΑc Αdeal, which can be shaped to fit the needs of individuals and communities. In particular, I will focus on Benedict Λ dΑΛcΝΛΛΑΗn Ηf music and monastic structure in the form of the daily Office. I argue that BenedΑcΜ Λ Rule and the actual practices of monks unite the sociological theories of meshwork and habitus (the structural systems through which all actions occur) with communitas (the intensely deep communal state reached by a group of people, often through
10 Ibid., 93. 11 See Augustine, and Luc Verheijen, La regle de saint Augustine, translated by Robert Russell (Paris: Études Augustiniennes, 1967), http://faculty.georgetown.edu/jod/augustine/ruleaug.html. 12 Fry, HΑΛΜΗΚΑcal OΚΑenΜaΜΑΗn, Αn BenedΑcΜ, RB 1980, 81-82. 10 ritualistic performance). While Pierre Bourdieu has described habitus as an ever-changing system with possibility for divergent practices, I argue that monastic habitus develops quite slowly in most cases, a phenomenon that I attribute not just to the fact that it is rooted in an
ΑnΛΜΚΝcΜΑve ΜeΠΜ (Α.e., BenedΑcΜ Λ RΝle), but to the complex system of rituals that structure these communities and constantly bring the past into the present.
The Rule
BenedΑcΜ Λ Rule is divided into seventy-three chapters, each with a particular instructional aim. His Rule, he says, is not for those who identify as hermits, sarabaites, or gyrovagues ΜhΗΛe ΟhΗm Οe mΑghΜ ΜΗdaΡ gΚΗΝΘ ΜΗgeΜheΚ aΛ ΚelΑgΑΗΝΛ vagΚanΜΛ. InΛΜead, he directs this writing to a particular group of monks those whom he calls cenobites who belong to monasteries. Cenobites, a term derived from the Greek ο νοβ ον meaning
cΗnvenΜ, are, by their very etymology, those monks who are actively engaged in creating and living in community. Benedict, like the rule-writing church fathers before him, sought to provide these cenobites a detailed description of how to handle all the scenarios common to religious communities. He illustrates the mundane (Chapter 22: The SleeΘΑng Arrangements
Ηf Μhe MΗnΓΛ ), the practical (Chapter 64: The ElecΜΑΗn Ηf an AbbΗΜ ), the serious (Chapter
28: ThΗΛe WhΗ RefΝΛe ΜΗ Amend after FΚeΙΝenΜ ReΘΚΗΗfΛ ), and the spiritual (Chapter 20:
ReveΚence Αn PΚaΡeΚ ). A ΙΝΑcΓ Κead ΜhΚΗΝgh Μhe cΗnΜenΜΛ Ηf BenedΑcΜ Λ dΗcΝmenΜ reveals an instructor who had knowledge of many different situations; while his instruction clearly stems from his deep knowledge of Biblical traditions and monastic precedence, one gathers that he also drew on his personal experience.
11
While Benedict himself does not organize his chapters into any topical scheme, there are nonetheless two broad categories on which he writes. The smaller group focuses directly on the Divine Office or Opus Dei Μhe WΗΚΓ Ηf GΗd. 13 In total, seventeen of the chapters fit into this category. These chapters form a cohesive group that explains both the broad, year- long cycles of the Church calendar and also the minutiae of individual services and the act of worship itself. The other fifty-six chapters focus on everything else necessary for monastic living, including the practical, less overtly-spiritual practices within the monastery. These chapters create several sub-categories, a few of which are relevant to my discussion.
The first chapter tells the reader to whom the document is addressed (the cenobites), and the following six chapters discuss the general character these monks ought to adopt. The guidelines in these chapters take on a very personal tone and provide a psychological and spiritual background for the specific instructions outlined later in the Rule. Benedict provides not just instruction, but reasons why monks should follow. These chapters, Tim Fry notes, are noticeably derived from the first chapters of the Regula Magistri, ΜhΗΝgh laΚge ΛecΜΑΗnΛ [of
RM] aΚe ΛhΗΚΜened ΗΚ ΗmΑΜΜed. 14 The content of these opening chapters is biblically based, combining scripture from different locations or glossing single verses into full laws. Often, the instructions provided in these chapters are fit for general Christian living, but some of the rules belong strictly to the realm of the monk. For instance, Benedict entreats mΗnΓΛ ΜΗ ΗbeΡ the orders of the abbot unreservedly, even if his own conduct which God forbid be at odds with what he says. Remember the teaching of the Lord: Do what they say, not what they do. 15
13 While these terms are interchangeable in colloquial speech, they refer to slightly different angles of the same thing. The Divine Office ΗΚ ΛΗmeΜΑmeΛ ΛΑmΘlΡ Μhe OffΑce refers to the services that occur throughout the day, whereas the Opus Dei is the practice of those services. 14 Benedict and Fry, RB 1980, 91-92. 15 RB 1980, 4:61; the quotation comes from Matt 23:3. 12
In the following chapter, Benedict emphasizes the internal attitude monks are to take in his earlier commandment:
This very obedience, however, will be acceptable to God and agreeable to men only if compliance with what is commanded is not cringing or sluggish or half-hearted, but free from any grumbling or any reaction of unwillingness. . . . If a disciple obeys grudgingly and grumbles, not only aloud but also in his heart, then even though he carries out the order, his action will not be accepted with favor by God, who sees that he is grumbling in his heart.16
Benedict wants these cenobites to submit themselves to greater authority, but to do so willingly, with joy. Like Jesus, who in the Sermon on the Mount tells his followers that they must not harbor feelings of hatred or lust, lest they be judged for murder or adultery,17
Benedict wants monks under his Rule to devote themselves to the abbot with pureness of heart. Beyond the spiritual implication of this command, Benedict reveals an intimate understanding of the politics of the monastery: In essence, the attitude of just one disgruntled monk can negatively affect a whole group. His passage shows not only that he cares about the personal virtue of the monks, but also about the agreeable atmosphere of the entire community. Furthermore, he begs for authenticity in this behavior apparently because God can tell the difference, but also, one might assume, because this will ensure that not even a hint of contempt will be found between any individuals.
In addition to instilling a sense of obedience in the monks, Benedict notes that those living under his Rule ought to be restrained in speech, and humble in all matters. On the matter of speech, Benedict writes that silence should be treasured at all times, because talking
16 RB 1980, 5:14, 16. 17 Matt 5:21-30. 13 almΗΛΜ ΑnvaΚΑablΡ leadΛ ΜΗ ΛΑn and becaΝΛe ΜΚΝe dΑΛcΑΘleΛ aΚe ΜΗ be ΛΑlenΜ and lΑΛΜen. 18
SΘeaΓΑng and ΜeachΑng, claims BenedΑcΜ, aΚe Μhe maΛΜeΚ Λ ΜaΛΓ ; instead of accepting the humility of silence, vocalization unnaturally elevates the monk beyond his given role and displays his pride in his own thoughts.19
Submissiveness ΑΛ fΝΚΜheΚ eΠΘlΗΚed Αn Μhe fΗllΗΟΑng chaΘΜeΚ. BenedΑcΜ Λ ΟΚΑΜΑng ΛΑΜΝaΜeΛ humility as the virtue that leads to all others, and for this reason, the author himself takes special delight in this discussion. In fact, of all of the chapters in the Rule, this is by far the largest.
BenedΑcΜ leadΛ Μhe ΚeadeΚ ΜhΚΗΝgh ΜΟelve ΛΜeΘΛ to earthly humility (Table 1, below) which he says, lΑΓe Μhe ΛΜeΘΛ Ηf JacΗb Λ laddeΚ, lead to heaven.20 BenedΑcΜ Λ ΚheΜΗΚΑc ΑΛ noteworthy: While there does not appear to be any logical progression between any of the interior steps, the overall journey leads a monk from fear to love ΜhaΜ caΛΜΛ ΗΝΜ feaΚ. TheΛe two points seem contradictory since monks are never supposed to give up their fear of God entirely. Instead of a direct ladder to heaven, BenedΑcΜ Λ ΛΜeΘΛ aΚe more like a Sisyphean task in which the monk who finds exaltation at the summit must be cast down to the base to scale the steps of humility once again.
Table 1: SΜ. BenedΑcΜ Λ TΟelve SΜeΘΛ Ηf HΝmΑlΑΜΡ Step # Type of Humility Verse Intro Purpose: Earthly humility leads to heavenly exaltation 7:1-9 1 Fear God 7:10-30 1.1 Keep pure thoughts 7:14-18 1.2 Turn away from your own desires 7:19-22
18 HeΚe, BenedΑcΜ ΙΝΗΜeΛ PΚΗveΚbΛ 10:19, In a flΗΗd Ηf ΟΗΚdΛ ΡΗΝ ΟΑll nΗΜ avΗΑd ΛΑn, ΑndΑcaΜΑng ΜhaΜ ΜhΑs reverence for silence has a biblical foundation. 19 RB 1980, 6:6. 20 RB 1980, 7:5-6. Referencing Gen, 28:12. 14
Table 1 (continued): St. Benedict’s Twelve Steps of Humility 1.3 PΝΚΛΝe nΗΜ ΡΗΝΚ lΝΛΜΛ (SΑΚ. 18:30) 7:23-25 1.4 Be vigilant always because God is always watching 7:26-30 2 Love not your own will 7:31-33 3 Submit to your superior in all obedience 7:34 4 EmbΚace ΛΝffeΚΑng Αn ΗbedΑence, ΝndeΚ dΑffΑcΝlΜ, ΝnfavΗΚable, ΗΚ even 7:35-43 ΝnΒΝΛΜ cΗndΑΜΑΗnΛ 5 Confess all sins and sinful thoughts to the abbot 7:44-48 6 Regard yourself as poor and worthless in all tasks 7:49-50 7 Admit verbally and in your heart that you are inferior to all 7:51-54 8 DΗ ΗnlΡ ΟhaΜ ΑΛ endΗΚΛed bΡ Μhe cΗmmΗn ΚΝle Ηf Μhe mΗnaΛΜeΚΡ 7:55 9 Control the tongue and remain silent 7:56-58 10 Do not be given to laughter 7:59 11 SΘeaΓ genΜlΡ and ΟΑΜhΗΝΜ laΝghΜeΚ, ΛeΚΑΗΝΛlΡ and ΟΑΜh becΗmΑng 7:60-61 mΗdeΛΜΡ, bΚΑeflΡ and ΚeaΛΗnablΡ 12 BeaΚ nΗ leΛΛ Μhan Αn [ΡΗΝΚ] heaΚΜ … [ΡΗΝΚ] head mΝΛΜ be bΗΟed and 7:62-66 [ΡΗΝΚ] eΡeΛ caΛΜ dΗΟn. Conc. AΛcendΑng all ΜheΛe ΛΜeΘΛ Ηf hΝmΑlΑΜΡ, Μhe mΗnΓ ΟΑll ΙΝΑcΓlΡ aΚΚΑve aΜ 7:67-70 that perfect love of God which casts out fear (1 JΗhn 4:18), ΜhΚΗΝgh ΟhΑch all ΜhaΜ he ΘeΚfΗΚmed ΟΑΜh dΚead, he ΟΑll nΗΟ begΑn ΜΗ observe without effort, as though naturally, from habit, no longer out of fear of hell, but out of love for Christ, good habit and delight in virtue.
Cyclicism is a ΝbΑΙΝΑΜΗΝΛ Μheme Ηf BenedΑcΜ Λ RΝle and ΑΛ a cenΜΚal ΜΗΘΑc Αn chapters 8-
18, ΟhΑch deΜaΑl Μhe ΗΚdeΚ Ηf Μhe DΑvΑne OffΑce. ThΑΛ cΡcle ΚeΘΚeΛenΜΛ Μhe mΗnΓ Λ foremost calling the Opus Dei, ΗΚ WΗΚΓ Ηf GΗd. AccΗΚdΑng ΜΗ BenedΑcΜ Λ ΛchedΝle, Μhe mΗnΓΛ gaΜheΚ eight times within every twenty-four-hour cycle: once in the middle of the night (or just before dawn), and seven times throughout the day. According to Benedict, the Office is truly the mΗnΓΛ gΚeaΜeΛΜ ΜaΛΓ. The ΘΝΚΘΗΛe Ηf ΜheΑΚ meeΜΑng, aΛ BenedΑcΜ ΟΚΑΜeΛ, ΑΛ ΜΗ ΚecΑΜe Μhe fΝll
15 psalter [i.e., the 150 Psalms] ΟΑΜh Μhe cΝΛΜΗmaΚΡ canΜΑcleΛ ; ΜhΗΛe ΟhΗ aΚe Νnable ΜΗ cΗmΘleΜe
ΜhΑΛ beΜΚaΡ eΠΜΚeme ΑndΗlence and lacΓ Ηf devΗΜΑΗn Αn ΜheΑΚ ΛeΚvΑce. 21
To complete the Opus Dei, Benedict lays out plans for both a daily and a weekly cycle. These two cycles fit inside the larger liturgical calendar of the Roman Church, and the recitations that occur in the Divine Office correlate with this larger framework. The Psalms recited throughout the day correspond to the daily cycle of life. For instance, every morning around dawn, the monks begin the celebration of the Office of Lauds with the invocation in
Psalm 66 fΗΚ GΗd ΜΗ be gΚacΑΗΝΛ ΜΗ ΝΛ and bleΛΛ ΝΛ and maΓe hΑΛ face ΜΗ ΛhΑne ΝΘΗn ΝΛ. TheΡ follow this with the plea of Psalm 50 for God to have mercy on us and to cleanse us of our past transgressions. The day ends with the Office of Compline, and the recitation of Psalms 4
(v. 8: I ΟΑll bΗΜh lΑe dΗΟn and ΛleeΘ Αn Θeace; fΗΚ ΡΗΝ alΗne, O LΗΚd, maΓe me lΑe dΗΟn Αn
ΛafeΜΡ ), 90 (v. 4-6: UndeΚ hΑΛ ΟΑngΛ ΡΗΝ ΟΑll fΑnd ΚefΝge. . . . YΗΝ ΟΑll nΗΜ feaΚ Μhe ΜeΚΚΗΚ Ηf the night, or the arrow that flies by day, or the pestilence that stalks in darkness ), and the benedΑcΜΑΗn Ηf PΛalm 133 ( CΗme, bleΛΛ Μhe LΗΚd, all ΡΗΝ ΛeΚvanΜΛ Ηf Μhe LΗΚd, ΟhΗ ΛΜand bΡ night in the house of the Lord! Lift up your hands to the holy place, and bless the Lord. May the Lord, maker of heaven and eaΚΜh, bleΛΛ ΡΗΝ fΚΗm ZΑΗn ). BeΜΟeen Μhe mΗΚnΑng and evening offices, and at the mid-night office of Vigils, the day is filled with the chanting of
Psalms, canticles, prayers, and other readings.
Even in this cursory view, it is clear that the Psalm texts coincide with the daily lives of the monks. These songs give voice to the feelings of the believers themselves and give weight through their biblical authority to the prayers of the monks.
21 RB 1980, 18:24. 16
BenedΑcΜ Λ ΛchedΝle ΑΛ ΗΝtlined completely in Appendix 1 and includes each Office, specific temporal directions, and the texts which he instructs the community to recite. At first glance, this schedule is remarkably thorough and perhaps overly complex, but a deeper reading reveals the sense of freedom that Fr. Michael claimed was so appealing about
BenedΑcΜ Λ RΝle. FΗΚ ΑnΛΜance, Αn chaΘΜeΚ 11 which focuses on the highly involved order for
Sunday Vigils Benedict writes that this schedule is to be followed year-ΚΗΝnd, ΝnleΛΛ God forbid the monks happen to arise too late. In that case, the readings or responsories will have to be shortened. Let special care be taken that this not happen, but if it does, the monk at fault
ΑΛ ΜΗ maΓe dΝe ΛaΜΑΛfacΜΑΗn ΜΗ GΗd Αn Μhe ΗΚaΜΗΚΡ. 22 He again makes leeway for the late-riser, instructing the monks to recite the first Psalm of the Office of Lauds ΟΑΜhΗΝΜ a ΚefΚaΑn and
ΛlΑghΜlΡ ΘΚΗΜΚacΜed aΛ Ηn SΝndaΡ ΛΗ ΜhaΜ eveΚΡΗne can be ΘΚeΛenΜ fΗΚ PΛalm 50. 23 The Psalms that Benedict does not specifically address aΚe ΜΗ be dΑΛΜΚΑbΝΜed evenly at Vigils over the
Λeven nΑghΜΛ Ηf Μhe ΟeeΓ, an instruction that allows the monks to have some ownership of their schedule.24 BenedΑcΜ cΗnclΝdeΛ ΜhΑΛ ΛecΜΑΗn Ηn Μhe OffΑce bΡ ΜellΑng Μhe ΚeadeΚ ΜhaΜ Αf anyone finds this distribution of the psalms unsatisfactory, he should arrange whatever he judges better, provided that the full complement of one hundred and fifty psalms is by all meanΛ caΚefΝllΡ maΑnΜaΑned eveΚΡ ΟeeΓ. 25
Through his own monastic practice, Benedict developed an Office schedule that was sufficient for his needs; his allowance of alternative paths, however, demonstrates his respect for other communities and individuals. He is clear in his wish for the entire monastic body to
22 RB 1980, 11:12-13. 23 Ibid., 13:2. 24 Ibid., 18:20. 25 Ibid., 18:22-23. 17 gather to do the Work, but he is realistic enough to understand that sometimes, individuals may slip or may require alterations. Rather than leave these elements unspoken or up for question, Benedict addresses them with grace and understanding, even making provisions for monks who, for whatever reason, are unable to strictly follow his guidelines.
Meshwork, Habitus, and Benedictine Embodiment
Two days into my fieldwork at Solesmes, I wrote a letter to my wife in which I expressed my amazement about the rigorous schedule the monks followed. Before arriving at the monastery, I abstractly understood that Benedictine monks would be occupied with the daily Office, but actually living that schedule took an amount of strength and focus I had not expected. TheΡ have nΗ fΝll daΡΛ ΜΗ ΜhemΛelveΛ! I ΟΚΗΜe. IΛn Μ ΜhΑΛ ΛΑmΘlΡ eΠhaΝΛΜΑng afΜeΚ a
ΟhΑle?
Between the Offices, Mass, and communal meals, the monks at Solesmes spent an average of about six hours a day together. Their longest solitary time, aside from their evening rest, is a three-hour block between None and Vespers. My initial reaction to their lifestyle was to label it a triumph of human endeavor and a reminder that a fixed goal leads to persistence.
At times, I am still tempted to regard the monks as super-human because a lifetime of their work sounds physically exhausting. Despite the almost relentless pace of their days, though, I came to regard the monastic schedule as paradoxically liberating.
Before I began my fieldwork, my goal was to live at each monastery according to the customs of those places, including attendance and participation (in as much as I was allowed)
18 at all Offices. I found my first few days at Solesmes overwhelming, and I wondered how I would survive several more weeks at that pace. Ultimately, I was unsuccessful in attending every Office, a fact that I attribute to a number of factors, including the schedule itself, the absence of spiritual necessity, and a lack of physical accountability. Nonetheless, my body soon adjusted to this new way of life, and I found that not only was the schedule somewhat enjoyable, but I was able to do more with my free time than I had initially thought. My experience may be explained by recent research in business psychology that has demonstrated a direct link between ΟhaΜ ΜheΡ call time pressure (Α.e., a limited number of working hours) and increased creative productivity.26 As applied to my case, the short breaks I had between
Offices were all the more precious due to their scarcity, and I soon found that I could complete a great amount of work during those times. In fact, after a week, I felt as though I was more productive living in the monastic rhythm than I had been outside of it.
Every person with whom I had an extended conversation, including regular guests and first-time visitors, nΗΜed Μhe lΑfe ΚhΡΜhm Ηf mΗnaΛΜΑc lΑvΑng. ManΡ ΘeΗΘle deΛcΚΑbed experiences strikingly similar to mine: arrival at the monastery; a brief period of anxiety; an extended period of mental alertness, peacefulness, and productivity. Many of the guests I
ΑnΜeΚvΑeΟed deΛcΚΑbed ΜhΑΛ ΘhenΗmenΗn aΛ ΛΡncΑng ΝΘ ΟΑΜh Μhe ΚhΡΜhmΛ Ηf mΗnaΛΜeΚΡ.
While this experience may not be universal, it is not limited only to those who believe the tenets of the Catholic faith, or even in Christianity in general. Francesco, a self-described
nΗn-belΑeveΚ ΟhΗm I meΜ aΜ SΗleΛmeΛ, had an experience similar to mine and others .
26 MaΚΓΝΛ BaeΚ and GΚeg R. Oldham The CΝΚvΑlΑneaΚ Relation Between Experienced Creative Time Pressure and CΚeaΜΑvΑΜΡ: MΗdeΚaΜΑng EffecΜΛ Ηf OΘenneΛΛ ΜΗ EΠΘeΚΑence and SΝΘΘΗΚΜ fΗΚ CΚeaΜΑvΑΜΡ, Αn Journal of Applied Psychology 91, nΗ. 4 (2006): 963; Λee alΛΗ BΚenΜ D. RΗΛΛΗ, CΚeaΜΑvΑΜΡ and CΗnΛΜΚaΑnΜΛ: EΠΘlΗΚing the Role of CΗnΛΜΚaΑnΜΛ Αn Μhe CΚeaΜΑve PΚΗceΛΛeΛ Ηf ReΛeaΚch and DevelΗΘmenΜ TeamΛ, Organization Studies 34, no. 4 (2014). 19
Although Francesco was at Solesmes for secular meditation and quietness, he claimed to have felt particularly at peace at the monastery.27
To what might this feeling be attributed? Monks and other believers assert that their alignment with God, through worship, prayer, and being in community with others, creates a sense of inner peace and well-being.28 While a gΗd-hΡΘΗΜheΛΑΛ cannot be tested, my field interviews suggest that these are nonetheless the outcomes that people seek (and find) at mΗnaΛΜeΚΑeΛ. In addΑΜΑΗn ΜΗ Μhe ΜΑme ΘΚeΛΛΝΚe ΜheΗΚΡ abΗve, I ΘΚΗΘΗΛe ΜhaΜ mΗnaΛΜΑc communities provide a unique atmosphere conducive to a sense of peacefulness, or even a heightened belief in the supernatural. The monastery is a place set apart from the world by physical walls and often intense religious ideology. Though consisting of individuals, the monastic community operates as a single organism due to the central beliefs and lifestyle shared by its members. So distinct from the outside world are these monastic communities that visitors must conform to their manner of being, or risk being removed from the community altogether.
An outside visitor to the monastery might be influenced to become more like the community by three types of agents. The first is an individual already within the community, whose personhood and ability to communicate the Christian and monastic messages can directly instruct the visitor how to act. The second agent is the community of monks, whose solidarity in practice and belief gives weight to the community itself, and to the persuasiveness
27 I dΑΛcΝΛΛ FΚanceΛcΗ Λ eΠΘeΚΑenceΛ Αn gΚeaΜeΚ deΜaΑl Αn ChaΘΜeΚ 3. 28 A 2015 PeΟ ReΛeaΚch PΗll ( U.S. PΝblΑc BecΗmΑng LeΛΛ RelΑgΑΗΝΛ ) fΗΝnd ΜhaΜ gΚΗΝΘΛ ΜhaΜ eΠhΑbΑΜ Μhe hΑgheΛΜ levelΛ Ηf ΚelΑgΑΗΝΛ ΗbΛeΚvance [Α.e., evangelΑcal, hΑΛΜΗΚΑcallΡ blacΓ, MΗΚmΗn, and JehΗvah Λ WΑΜneΛΛ] Ηn ΜΚadΑΜΑΗnal measures of religious practice (such as worship, service attendance, prayer, etc.) . . . are most likely to say they ΚegΝlaΚlΡ eΠΘeΚΑence a ΛenΛe Ηf ΛΘΑΚΑΜΝal Θeace. AcceΛΛed 23 FebΚΝaΚΡ 2016, http://www.pewforum.org/2015/11/03/chapter-2-religious-practices-and-experiences. 20 of the individual. The final component consists of rituals and the Rule which, although they are enacted through the monks, are nonetheless separate material entities.
In practice, the individual, social, and material agents are all intertwined and occur simultaneously. TΑm IngΗld haΛ ΘΚΗΘΗΛed an anΜhΚΗΘΗlΗgΡ Ηf lines, which states that eveΚΡ lΑvΑng beΑng and object ΑΛ a lΑne ΗΚ, beΜΜeΚ, a bΝndle Ηf lΑneΛ ΜhaΜ all Μangle ΜΗgeΜheΚ Αn
ΟhaΜ he callΛ a meΛhΟΗΚΓ. 29 Everything that occurs on earth, and is observed by anyone, is a ΘΚΗdΝcΜ Ηf Μhe ΓnΗΜΛ and meΛhΟΗΚΓ Ηf ΜheΛe lΑneΛ. RelΑgΑΗn, ΜΗΗ, ΑΛ fΝndamenΜallΡ a
ΓnΗΜΜΑng Ηf lΑneΛ, he ΟΚΑΜeΛ.30
Yet classically, discussions of religion have been waylaid by questions of belief and the supernatural. This is to think of the religious imagination as a power of representation, of giving form to appearances or dressing a world already in place with images of the divine. I have argued, to the contrary, that imagination is the power of appearing things, not of representing them. . . . Religious sensibility [is thus] a matter not of belief but of faith. Religious faith, as theologian Peter Candler puts it, is founded in a grammar of participation, not of representation.31
Thus, when a newcomer enters a monastery, his lines become part of the meshwork of the monastery; through his own participation in the community, he is integrated into it.
Although Ingold never mentions it directly, his meshwork theory calls to mind Pierre
BΗΝΚdΑeΝ Λ ΜheΗΚΡ Ηf habΑΜΝΛ. This term, which Bourdieu made famous in Outline of a Theory of Practice (1972), refers to Μhe ΛeΚΑeΛ Ηf ΚegΝlaΜed ΑmΘΚΗvΑΛaΜΑΗnΛ ΜhaΜ cΚeaΜe ΘΚacΜΑceΛ ΟhΑch tend to reproduce the regularities immanent in the objective conditions of the production of
ΜheΑΚ geneΚaΜΑve ΘΚΑncΑΘle. 32 BΗΝΚdΑeΝ alΛΗ deΛcΚΑbeΛ habΑΜΝΛ aΛ Μhe ΛΗΝΚce Ηf ΜheΛe ΛeΚΑeΛ Ηf
29 Tim Ingold, The Life of Lines (New York: Routledge, 2015), 3. 30 Ingold, Life of Lines, 155. 31 Ibid. 32 Pierre Bourdieu, Outline of a Theory of Practice, rev. ed., translated by Richard Nice (1972; New York: Cambridge University Press, 1977), Kindle Edition: 2024. 21 moves which are objectively organized as strategies without being the product of a genuine
ΛΜΚaΜegΑc ΑnΜenΜΑΗn. 33 In essence, habitus is not simply the action itself, but the culture from which the action was born and within which the action is accepted and considered a legitimate way of being. BΗΝΚdΑeΝ Λ deΛcription here is circular, emphasizing the cyclical nature of habitus itself. His point is to show that habitus this system from which all actions occur comes from beyond cultural memory, but nonetheless becomes a part of the present culture.
His discussion elucidates the fact that practice creates culture, culture creates practice, and the two re-create one another in an endless cycle. What Bourdieu shows (and what Ingold is less clear about) is that habitus develops over time as individuals find new ways to operate within its bounds.
Despite the fact that actions within habitus are, in a way, predetermined by their cΝlΜΝΚe, ΜheΡ aΚe ΛΜΑll ΝΘ ΜΗ chance accΗΚdΑng ΜΗ ΑndΑvΑdΝal agencΡ. AΛ BΗΝΚdΑeΝ nΗΜeΛ, IΜ ΑΛ necessary to abandon all theories which explicitly or implicitly treat practice as a mechanical reaction, directly or indirectly determined by the antecedent conditions and entirely reducible to the mechanical functioning of pre-eΛΜablΑΛhed aΛΛemblΑeΛ. 34
The choice of the term habΑΜΝΛ ΑΛ nΗΜable, since the Latin carries with it many subtle definitions not present in its typical English or French cognates. As a verb (the perfect passive participle of habere), it means having been had, held, considered, thought, or reasoned all of which suggest a present state that has a residual past. AΛ a nΗΝn, ΑΜ ΚefeΚΛ ΜΗ Ηne Λ chaΚacΜeΚ, condition, or state. Thus, unlike the English habit (or the French habitude), which simply
33 Ibid., 1877. 34 Bourdieu, Outline of a Theory of Practice, 1877. 22 imply a routine, habΑΜΝΛ ΑmΘlΑeΛ a cΗde Ηf cΗndΝcΜ with roots in the past that are affecting current conditions.35
While the concepts of meshwork and habitus are not particularly new, neither has been used to observe the institution of Benedictine monasticism as a whole. Doing so sheds light on the sociological origins and impact of the Rule, and also helps to account for changes in the institution.
Within the meshwork frame, the historical Benedict is not just a man living at a certain point, but is a bundle of Ingoldian lines. His lines form knots with everything he encounters, including the Church, his early hermetic life, his many monasteries, his final settling place at
Monte Cassino, the other monks who encounter him, his experiences with the divine, and the rules that he read, studied, and relied upon for instruction.36 His Rule is a product of this meshwork of lines, and it is a bundle itself connected by lines to all the experiences of its creator. As material, the Rule accumulates new lines throughout time, forming new knots and building its own meshwork through and across time just as the lines within monasteries form meshworks of their own, intertwined with that of the Rule, other monasteries, the
Church, and even the outside world. Embodied practice that is, the body (in all its manifestations) as it encounters its world unites the frames of meshwork and habitus.
Manuel Vasquez has proposed an embodied theory of religion in which bodies both create and are influenced by architecture, archeology, religious experience, performance, popular and material culture, transnational and diasporic religion, and cognitive science that is,
35 IΜ ΑΛ alΛΗ ΟΗΚΜh menΜΑΗnΑng ΜhaΜ Μhe ΜeΚm habΑΜ, ΚefeΚΚΑng ΜΗ a ΘΑece Ηf clΗΜhΑng, alΛΗ lendΛ ΑΜΛ name ΜΗ Μhe garments worn by monks and nuns from the time they declare their intentions to enter an order. 36 HΝgh FΗΚd, SΜ. BenedΑcΜ Ηf NΝΚΛΑa, The Catholic Encyclopedia, vol. 2 (New York: Robert Appleton Company, 1907), http://www.newadvent.org/cathen/02467b.htm. 23 materiality in its broadest sense.37 VaΛΙΝeΣ Λ embΗdΑed maΜeΚΑalΑΛΜ fΚameΟΗΚΓ ΘΚΗΘΗΛeΛ a bΗdΡ that ΑΛ fΝllΡ active . . . [within] a full somatocentric non-reductive materialism that does not deny the generative power of the semiotic but that recognizes the productivity of other maΜeΚΑal ΘΚacΜΑceΛ and ΘΚΗceΛΛeΛ. 38 Meshwork contends that people and material are connected to one another through lines; habitus shows that cultural behaviors lead to additional cultural behaviors; embodied practice suggests that the material the people, things, places, actions, philosophies of meshwork directly influences habitus. New material, including that which comes from outside and that which is created from the inside, contributes to the habitus, adding to and changing it through time.
For its part, the Rule has a built-in system for allowing the development of Benedictine habitus. As I have shown, the Rule is not rigid and impervious to malleability, but instead allows fΗΚ Μhe ΛΗΚΜ Ηf ΑmΘΚΗvΑΛaΜΑΗnΛ Ηf chaΚacΜeΚ and routine that Bourdieu described as key to a developing habitus. One recognizes that without this allowance of variation, the meshwork and thus the habitus would not grow. BenedΑcΜ Λ instructions are not the type of
mechanΑcal ΚeacΜΑΗnΛ . . . deΜeΚmΑned bΡ Μhe antecedent conditions that Bourdieu dismisses, but rather are possibilities that any individual or group may choose to follow. The options that
Benedict permits actually facilitate a healthy institutional habitus that can survive throughout time.
Up to this point, I have focused on meshwork and habitus as they relate to a monastery, or to Benedictine monasticism in general. However, these communities are
37 Manuel Vasquez, More than Belief: A Materialist Theory of Religion (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2010), 3- 4. 38 Ibid., 162. 24 nonetheless made up of individuals who demonstrate what it means to be a monk. As E. E.
Evans-Pritchard notes, ΟhΑle ΚΑΜΝalΛ eΠΘΚeΛΛ Μhe ΛΗcΑal ΗΚdeΚ Ηf a ΚelΑgΑΗn, personal expression
ΜellΛ ΝΛ mΗΚe Ηf ΟhaΜ ΚelΑgΑΗn ΑΛ Αn ΑΜΛelf. 39 Evans-Pritchard Λ ΛΜaΜemenΜ ΑΛ ΘΚΗblemaΜΑc becaΝΛe it assumes that it is possible to view the individual as an entity apart from his cultural embeddedness; nonetheless, one is led to wonder how the behaviors of individual monks contribute to the idea of a special type of monastic meshwork and habitus.
Apart from their brothers, monks spend much of their free time (i.e., the time not spent in the Office) either working or praying, in silence. WhΑle nΗ ΘeΚΛΗn Λ ΘΚΑvaΜe ΜΑme can be accounted for totally, Μhe ΘeΚΛΗnal accΗΝnΜΛ Ηf mΗnΓΛ and BenedΑcΜ Λ RΝle ΑΜΛelf ΑndΑcaΜe that the quiet pursuit of knowledge and communion with the divine consumes a great deal of an ΑndΑvΑdΝal mΗnΓ Λ ΜΑme. The specific ways in which monks employ this time may be numerous, but the fact that even these independent pursuits essentially seek the same thing indicates the strength of the larger communal structure that supports the individual. What causes members of monastic communities to be so closely aligned with each other, even when they are separated? The answer, I will argue, is not indoctrination or even a belief in a specific reading of the Rule; instead, this unified system of acting out is a manifestation of communitas, a product of the monastic meshwork which I have just described.
. . .
39 E. E. Evans-Pritchard, Nuer Religion rev. ed (1956 ; Oxford : Clarendon Press, 1971), 320. 25
Benedictine Communitas
In ΑΜΛ ΜΡΘΑcal ΝΛage, Μhe ΜeΚm cΗmmΝnΑΜΡ ΚefeΚΛ ΜΗ ΛΗme ΛΗΚΜ Ηf cΗllecΜΑve Αn ΟhΑch individuals are bound to one another through place, belief, or time. Individuals may live in a particular place and call themselves a community based on their close proximity. Some may choose to live in that place, and some may be forced to live there due to some other circumstance; either way, the mere fact that these people occupy a space together binds them, whether those bonds are weak or strong. While individuals may be drawn to certain places out of ideological obligation, a shared outlook is by no means a requirement for community.
Families in a community need not have anything in common other than the fact that they were drawn for any number of reasons to live within close proximity of one another.
Often, though, individuals occupy a certain area because of an ideal or philosophy that is in some way embodied in that space. For instance, a community might form around a church. People who go to that location hold certain beliefs in common with one another, and they know that by going to this place, they will find other individuals who maintain beliefs similar to theirs. While the building itself holds no tangible significance, it is inscribed with signs, symbols, and memories that signify its importance to the community that congregates there. Individuals construct and agree upon the essence of a community collectively, both implicitly and explicitly. As historian Mircea Eliade wrote,
Objects . . . acquire a value, and in so doing become real, because they participate, after one fashion or another, in a reality that transcends them. Among countless stones, one stone becomes sacred and hence instantly becomes saturated with being because it constitutes a hierophany, or possesses man, or again because it commemorates a
26
mythical act, and so on.40
A small church community is furthermore situated within the larger social contexts of a town or city, larger religious organizations, and state governments. While the participants might think of their place of worship as being host to a community, those same people might still consider themselves a part of that community even when they leave the physical location. In fact, it is very likely that any individual might feel a part of several different communities simultaneously, depending on time, place, and frame of mind.
Members of communities are bound to one another not only by place or belief, but alΛΗ bΡ ΜΑme. GeneΚallΡ ΛΘeaΓΑng, Μhe clΗΛeΛΜ membeΚΛ Ηf Ηne Λ cΗmmΝnΑty are those who occupy a space at a concurrent time. However, specific communities might be linked to one another through time, bound not by a temporal relationship, but by a shared experience. Take for example the graduating class of a high school. Each class forms a community based on its shared experience of being educated with one another at the same time. Often, the members of a particular class have little in common with one another other than their educational upbringing. Their shared space and shared time with one another, however, bind them together despite their differences. Beyond the community of any particular graduating year, there is a community made up of all of the students at the school, regardless of their class.
Within that larger community, more focused communities may form based on shared interests like football, theater, or cheerleading. Furthermore, the members of any school are also bound to those who graduated before them, and those who will graduate after. There is a kinship among these groups, despite their temporal displacement, based on the fact that each
40 Mircea Eliade, Cosmos and History: The Myth of the Eternal Return, translated by Willard R. Trask (1954; New York: Harper Torchbooks, 1959), 3-4. 27 one had a certain type of experience at a central place. This kind of community that stretches through time is based on an institutional legacy and tradition; although its members may not actively engage with one another, their experiences are often very powerfully imbedded within individuals for their entire lives.
Communities tend to be relatively small and centralized entities. In most cases, a city would not be considered a community, but it might house many different communities.
Other types of communities, like the virtual community that has been created through advancements in technology, may at first seem unique, but they fit abstractly into the parameters that I have already outlined. However, some groups are so intertwined with one anΗΜheΚ ΜhaΜ cΗmmΝnΑΜΡ ΑΛ ΛΑmΘlΡ an ΑnΛΝffΑcΑenΜ ΜeΚm ΜΗ deΛcΚΑbe ΜheΑΚ agΚeemenΜ.
In his many anthropological and sociological works, Victor Turner uses the Latin word communitas to signify a specific type of social organization that is not strictly bound to location. As opposed to the ΛΜΚΝcΜΝΚed, dΑffeΚenΜΑaΜed, and ΗfΜen hΑeΚaΚchΑcal ΛΡΛΜem Ηf politico-legal-economic positions with many types of evaluation, separating men in terms of
mΗΚe ΗΚ leΛΛ, ΟhaΜ mΑghΜ be called maΑnΛΜΚeam communitas ΑΛ ΝnΛΜΚΝcΜΝΚed ΗΚ
ΚΝdΑmenΜaΚΑlΡ ΛΜΚΝcΜΝΚed, ΟΑΜh ΑndΑvΑdΝalΛ ΟhΗ aΚe essentially equal.41 Central to the concept of communitas is the performance of ritual, which uniquely transforms and unites individuals.
Rather than subscribing to the hierarchical systems in mainstream culture, communitas depends on the principle that individuals ΛΝbmΑΜ together to the general authority of the ritual elders. 42 Thus, while mainstream culture and communitas differ from one another, they rely on each other for meaning; as Turner writes, CΗmmΝnΑΜaΛ can be gΚaΛΘed ΗnlΡ Αn
41 Victor Turner, The Ritual Process: Structure and Anti-Structure (Chicago: Aldine Publishing, 1969), 96. 42 Ibid. 28 some relation to structure. . . . Communitas is made evident or accessible, so to speak, only through its juxtaposition to, or hybridization with, aspects of social structure. 43 In other words, without the normative social structure, there is no reason or purpose for communitas; but despite their separation from one another, they constitute a dialectic.44
The otherness of communitas is a result of ritual performance that provides its members with identities outside the mainstream and a structure that binds those identities together. Rituals allow the individuals in communitas to embody predetermined roles and to perform those roles before one another. In his discussion of Toba Taksek rituals and identities, Ezequiel Ruiz Moras notes that the dΚamaΜΝΚgΑcal acΜΑΗn the outward expression of ritual ΑΛ ΘlaΡed ΗΝΜ bΡ neΑΜheΚ a lonely actor nor the member of a social group but [by] the participants in an interaction constituting an audience for one another, a public before whom they present themselves. 45 The performances become more clearly defined over time and relate all players to one another.
If communitas relies on ritual to maintain its distinctively strong bonds, its greatest and most essential rite is what Arnold van Gennep termed rites de passage.46 Historically, these rites are believed to have served the purpose of cleansing strangers of ΜheΑΚ ΛΘecΑal qualities, maΓing them neΝΜΚal ΗΚ benevΗlenΜ ΜΗΟaΚdΛ a ΘaΚΜΑcΝlaΚ gΚΗΝΘ.47 Van GenneΘ Λ rites incorporate spiritual themes, but this component is not a requirement; these same rituals can occur in secular settings, and still follow van GenneΘ Λ ΜhΚee ΛΜage outline: a preliminary
43 Ibid., 127. 44 Turner, The Ritual Process, 97. 45 EΣeΙΝΑel RΝΑΣ MΗΚaΛ, Communitas, Ritual Action and Open Identities Among the Toba Taksek of the CenΜΚal ChacΗ, Indiana 22 (2005): 45. 46 Arnold Van Gennep, The Rites of Passage, translated by Monka B. Vizedom and Gabrielle L. Caffee (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1960). 47 Ibid., 26-27. 29 phase in which strangers are approached or are introduced to a group, and in some way must prove their benevolence; a transitional period in which food, lodging, and other gifts are given; and the final rite of incorporation, in which the stranger becomes a trusted member.48
If cΗnΛΑdeΚed ΜhΚΗΝgh Μhe lenΛ Ηf dΚamaΜΝΚgΑcal acΜΑΗn dΑΛcΝΛΛed abΗve, Μhe vaΚΑΗΝΛ ΘlaΡeΚΛ involved in this three-part ritual are obvious. The original group the communitas acts in a certain waΡ ΜhaΜ ΑΛ ΗΜheΚ fΚΗm Μhe ΛΜΚange ΗΝΜΛΑdeΚ, and Μhe ΗΝΜΛΑdeΚ ΑΛ heΚΛelf ΚecΗgnΑΣed aΛ an ΗΜheΚ, ΛeΘaΚaΜe fΚΗm Μhe gΚΗΝΘ. If Λhe ΟΑΛheΛ ΜΗ ΒΗΑn Μhe gΚΗΝΘ, Μhe ΗΜheΚ must perform in a way in which this group will respond positively to her and invite her in for further evaluation; any misstep in the performance of these roles might result in the ritual abruptly coming to a close. If these roles are acted out well, though, and the group responds positively toward the outsider, they have an obligation to give him some sort of sign that she has been accepted. In the rites de passage, everyone performs, and everyone observes each according to the basic three-part structure.
While participants in these rituals perform predetermined roles that help them form relational identities with one another, it also requires that all members undergo a certain trial in order to be deemed safe and worthy of integration. Turner refers to this in-between stage as a liminal state; individuals in this stage have moved beyond being strangers, but they are also not fully-fledged, trusted members of the communitas.49 Turner claims that the liminal state is based on human biological processes.
The ΛΜΚΝcΜΝΚal ΑnvΑΛΑbΑlΑΜΡ of liminal personae has a twofold character: They are at once no longer classified and not yet classified. In so far as they are no longer classified, the symbols that represent them are, in many societies, drawn from the biology of
48 Van Gennep, Rites of Passage, 28. 49 VΑcΜΗΚ TΝΚneΚ, BeΜΟΑΠΜ and BeΜΟeen: The LΑmΑnal PeΚΑΗd Αn Rites de Passage, Αn The Forest of Symbols: Aspects of Ndembu Ritual (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1967). 30
death, decomposition, catabolism, and other physical processes that have a negative tinge. . . . The other aspect, that they are not yet classified, is often expressed in symbols modeled on processes of gestation and parturition. The neophytes are likened to or treated as embryos, newborn infants, or sucklings.50
These liminal bodies (which Turner terms beΜΟΑΠΜ and beΜΟeen anΡ fΑΠed claΛΛΑfΑcaΜΑΗn) aΚe thus treated in ways that are universal and that have predictable outcomes. If there is a transitional group (as opposed to a single transitional person), the prospective members are considered equals and usually form a particular type of bond.51 They are initially separate from the group they intend to join often in both physical and spiritual ways and lack possessions or anything that might distinguish them from the other betweeners.52 These embodied ΙΝalΑΜΑeΛ aΚe, aΛ TΝΚneΚ nΗΜeΛ, ΛΑgnΛ Ηf Μhe ΘΚΗceΛΛ ΟheΚebΡ ΜheΡ [i.e., transitional persons] aΚe gΚΗΝΘed dΗΟn ΜΗ be faΛhΑΗned aneΟ ;53 that is, the liminal group is subject to disassembly so that it can be remade in a particular way. After this phase is complete, the lΑmΑnal ΘeΚΛΗnΛ aΚe ΚebΗΚn a process that, theoretically, all other members of the group experienced at an earlier time. This shared experience of being wiped clean, being imprinted with new knowledge, and then being reborn in the image of the group defines communitas as something altogether different from a simple community.54
Van GenneΘ Λ and TΝΚneΚ Λ deΛcΚΑΘΜΑΗnΛ have ΗbvΑΗΝΛ cΗnnecΜΑΗnΛ ΜΗ ΑnΑΜΑaΜΑΗn ΚΑΜeΛ Ηf many major religions today. Bar and bat mitzvahs and Christian conversion are just two of
50 TΝΚneΚ, BeΜΟΑΠΜ and BeΜΟeen, 96. 51 Ibid., 100-101. 52 Ibid., 98. 53 Ibid. 54 Turner goes on to problematize communitas, noting that its original unstructured form opposed to the structure of the outside is liable to become a structured form in itself; the original immediacy of communitas eventually may thus become institutionalized into the mediacy of structure. 31 the rites that incorporate outsiders into communitas through rites de passage.55 In monasteries, new brothers are integrated into the community through a process of initiation that takes place over the course of several years. My own experience at the monastery of arriving, feeling overwhelmed with the lifestyle, and then finally coming to a place of peace with everything mirrors, to a lesser extent, the challenges of the liminal state, and the rewards of communitas.
Tim Olaveson has demonstrated a connection between TΝΚneΚ Λ nΗΜΑΗn Ηf communitas and the idea of collective effervescence proposed by Emile Durkheim in the laΜΜeΚ Λ
Elementary Forms of Religious Life. Introducing the idea of collective effervescence, Durkheim wrote:
The very act of congregating is an exceptionally powerful stimulant. Once the individuals are gathered together, a sort of electricity is generated from their closeness and quickly launches them to an extraordinary height of exaltation. Every emotion expressed resonates without interference in consciousnesses that are wide open to external impressions, each one echoing the others. . . . The effervescence often becomes so intense that it leads to outlandish behavior; the passions unleashed are so torrential that nothing can hold them. People are so far outside the ordinary conditions of life, and so conscious of the fact, that they feel a certain need to set themselves above and beyond ordinary morality.56
As Olaveson argues, the passage above shows an early understanding of the power of ritual to build intense relationships and to elevate the ritualized group beyond the ordinary social sphere. Here, Durkheim and Olaveson are both quick to point out the fact that the ritual
55 See Michael Hilton, Bar Mitzvah: A History (Philadelphia: The Jewish Publication Society, 2014), 201-4; WΑllΑam M. ClemenΜΛ, CΗnveΚΛΑΗn and CΗmmΝnΑΜaΛ, Western Folklore 35, no. 1 (1976). 56 Durkheim (1912), 217-8, in TΑm OlaveΛΗn, CΗllecΜΑve EffeΚveΛcence and CΗmmΝnΑΜaΛ: PΚΗceΛΛΝal MΗdelΛ Ηf RΑΜΝal and SΗcΑeΜΡ Αn EmΑle DΝΚΓheΑm and VΑcΜΗΚ TΝΚneΚ, Dialectical Anthropology 26: 2 (June 2001): 99. 32
ΑΜΛelf ΑΛ Ηf ΛecΗndaΚΡ ΑmΘΗΚΜance; Μhe eΛΛenΜΑal ΙΝalΑΜΡ Ηf ΜhΑΛ ΜΡΘe Ηf ΘeΚfΗΚmance ΑΛ Μhe pureness of collective sentiment and social energy. 57
Collective effervescence has other qualities that are important in relation to communitas. Olaveson recognizes the fact that Durkheim referred to two distinct but closely related types of collective effervescence. The first is inherently creative in nature what
Durkheim called creative effervescence, chaΚacΜeΚΑΣed bΡ ΑnΜenΛe emotion . . . [and] is a phenomenon during which new ideas in morality can emerge, as well as ideal conceptions of society. 58 The second, Durkheim termed re-creative effervescence, Αn ΟhΑch ΜheΚe ΑΛ alΛΗ intense emotion and excitement, and a bond of community and unity among participants, such that they feel morally strengthened. 59 Durkheim argues that this type of effervescence is neceΛΛaΚΡ fΗΚ ΛΝΛΜaΑned ΚelΑgΑΗΝΛ and ΛΗcΑal lΑfe; aΛ OlaveΛΗn nΗΜeΛ, IΜ ΚeΑnfΗΚceΛ Μhe cΗllecΜΑve representations society is based upon, and permits the existence of knowledge. 60 OlaveΛΗn Λ central point is to show that the effervescent perhaps even transcendent qualities of ritual lead to the type of communal bonding that Turner called communitas. Despite the fact that collective effervescence itself ends with the ritual, its effects are nonetheless felt in the deep bonds of communitas.
Ritualistic practices are a necessary component of human life because they lead to the
effeΚveΛcenΜ ΛΜaΜe ΜhaΜ (aΛ DΝΚΓheΑm aΚgΝed) allΗΟΛ ΝΛ ΜΗ cΚeaΜe, maΑnΜaΑn, and ΑnΜeΚΘΚeΜ ΗΝΚ social bonds. In essence, rituals result in communitas, a state that gives individuals something they cannot find elsewhere deep and meaningful connection to others. More recently,
57 OlaveΛΗn, CΗllecΜΑve EffeΚveΛcence, 100. 58 OlaveΛΗn, CΗllecΜΑve EffeΚveΛcence, 101. 59 Ibid. 60 Ibid., 102. 33
Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi has shown that ritualized performances lead to ΛΜaΜeΛ Ηf ΗΘΜΑmal eΠΘeΚΑence ΜhaΜ he ΜeΚmΛ flow.61 Within these states, CΛΑΓΛΣenΜmΑhalΡΑ ΟΚΑΜeΛ, Μhe Λelf ΑnveΛΜΛ equal amounts of psychic energy in [the processes of differentiation from others and integration with others] and avoids both selfishness and cΗnfΗΚmΑΜΡ. 62 Flow is an essential part of being human not only because it provides a platform through which people grow into complex individuals, but also becaΝΛe ΑΜ maΓeΛ Μhe ΘΚeΛenΜ ΑnΛΜanΜ mΗΚe enΒΗΡable, and because it builds the self-confidence that allows us to develop skills and make significant cΗnΜΚΑbΝΜΑΗnΛ ΜΗ hΝmanΓΑnd. 63 In essence, flow assists in the philosophical journey at the heart of monasticism, and is a reward unto itself.64
Conclusion
The ritualistic and performative aspects of communitas fit neatly within the paradigms of meshwork and habitus discussed earlier. Those frameworks, joined together through embodied practice, discuss complex structural systems made of many interwoven parts; or, as
Tim Ingold has referred to them, these are bundles of lines that have formed knots of culture and meaning. Both meshwork and habitus explain the development of culture through human agency, material, and environment, and the subsequent production of new artifacts and ideas that contribute to the development of those systems. Ritual and the material that supports
61 Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi, Flow: The Psychology of Optimal Experience (New York: Harper Perennial Modern Classics, 1990), 76. 62 Csikszentmihalyi, Flow, 42. 63 Ibid. 64 In fact, Csikszentmihalyi writes, “Flow and religion have been intimately connected from earliest times. Many of the optimal experiences of mankind have taken place in the context of religious rituals” (1990: 76). 34 it is certainly a prime cultural artifact. Without the meshwork of the cultural system, individuals would have neither the ability nor the need to engage in the rituals that create communitas.
As a manifestation and representation of habitus, ritual allows communities to see the meshwork of their being. It untangles the knots and allows the ritualizing community to reassemble their lines in a chosen tapestry. Communitas is the result of this reworking; it is the deliberate acting out of all parts together, with agreement. Although new lines are added into the meshwork at all times, frequent ritualization ensures that these additions are integrated into the meshwork and do not too quickly alter the habitus. .
Some monastic communities engage in religious ritual eight times a day (or more if one considers musical rehearsals or religio-social rituals such as meals).65 New members are made into trusted brothers through the ritualized profession of vows rites that, as Van Gennep expressed, mutually ensure the liminal group and communitas group of their trustworthiness.
Most of the rituals that take place in the monastery, though, do not feature the intense outsider-liminal-insider transformation; instead, they simply allow monks to sing, act, and pray as a group; they allow individuals to experience Μhe cΗllecΜΑve effeΚveΛcence neceΛΛaΚΡ for communitas.
Perhaps it is unsurprising, given the frequency and time spent in ritual, that the
Benedictine order has not only sustained itself for hundreds of years, but also remains relatively impervious to the changes of time. Monasteries today face events, people, ideas, technologies, and materials that would be completely foreign to their institutional ancestors, and yet the fundamental work of the monks the Opus Dei is carried out daily without
65 See ChaΘΜeΚ 3, The CΗmmΝnal PΚaΡeΚ Ηf BΚeaΓΑng BΚead. 35 change. Furthermore, while I admit that there were aspects of life at the monasteries I visited that seemed antiquated, my general perception was that Benedictines were remarkably in- touch with the world, and not completely shut-off from it. Ritual, it would appear, has enabled Benedictine communities constantly to bring their institutional past to the forefront
Ηf ΜheΑΚ meΛhΟΗΚΓ, and ΑnΜegΚaΜe eveΚΡΜhΑng neΟ ΑnΜΗ ΑΜ ΟΑΜh claΚΑΜΡ and cΗheΚence.
As I will show in the following chapters, though, moving through time and integrating new ideas is not as easy as simply performing ritual. Monks, like most people, face the challenges of pride that threaten the balance of their practice. The rituals themselves are affected when monks deliberately ΛeΜ BenedΑcΜ Λ ΛΜeΘΛ ΜΗ hΝmΑlΑΜΡ aΛΑde and draw attention to themselves; in a system that hinges upon ritual for sustainability and relevance, poor performance can shatter the sense of communitas in a monastery. But good performance can have the opposite effect, even allowing monks to transcend their bodies to create a heavenly realm on earth.
36
CHAPTER TWO
GREGORIAN CHANT AND THE IDEALIZED PAST
In the previous chapter, I showed that Benedictine communitas is a direct result of rituals that are themselves part of Benedictine meshwork and instances of habitus. At the heart of the meshwork is BenedΑcΜ Λ Rule, an artifact to which monks can continually return to Λee ΜheΑΚ fΗΝndΑng faΜheΚ Λ Αdeal. AΜ anΡ mΗmenΜ, anΡ mΗnΓ can cΗmΘaΚe hΑΛ lΑfe ΜΗ ΜhaΜ which Benedict prescribed in the Rule, and change himself to better live up to that standard.
Mircea Eliade discusses ritual performance in the book Cosmos and History: The Myth of the Eternal Return. Eliade hypothesizes that religious texts and rituals are imitations of a
dΑvΑne aΚcheΜΡΘe ; hΝmanΛ Κead ΜheΛe ΜeΠΜΛ and ΘeΚfΗΚm ΚΑΜΝalΛ becaΝΛe Ηf a need to
ΚegeneΚaΜe ΜhemΛelveΛ bΡ ΚeΜΝΚnΑng ΜΗ Μhe ΛΗΝΚce Ηf ΜhΗΛe aΚΜΑfacΜΛ.66 TheΛe ceΚemΗnΑeΛ,
ΟΚΑΜeΛ ElΑade, ΛΝΛΘend Μhe flΗΟ Ηf ΘΚΗfane ΜΑme, Ηf dΝΚaΜΑΗn, and ΘΚΗΒecΜ Μhe celebΚanΜ ΑnΜΗ a mythical time, in illo tempore. . . . All rituals imitate a divine archetype and their continual
ΚeacΜΝalΑΣaΜΑΗn ΜaΓeΛ Θlace Αn Ηne and Μhe Λame aΜemΘΗΚal mΡΜhΑcal ΑnΛΜanΜ. 67 And yet, after the ritual is complete, the performer is deposited back in profane time, eventually to need to return again to the source. Performing ritual is as Eliade refers to it an eΜeΚnal ΚeΜΝΚn nΗΜ only because it takes people into ΜhΑΛ aΜemΘΗΚal ΑnΛΜanΜ, bΝΜ becaΝΛe it instigates a behavioral cycle with no clear resolution.
66 Eliade, Cosmos and History, 76-77. 67 Ibid., 76. 37
ThΑΛ eΜeΚnal ΚeΜΝΚn, ΟΚΑΜeΛ ElΑade, ΚevealΛ an ontology uncontaminated by time and becΗmΑng. 68 ElΑade Λ ΛΜaΜemenΜ ΚevealΛ Μhe ΛΑde Ηf hΝman nature that idealizes the past and thinks of it as pristine, authentic, or untainted. The villain Αn Μhe mΡΜh Ηf Μhe eΜeΚnal ΚeΜΝΚn is not a specific person but the forward-moving nature of life itself and of humans to change.
The myth remains alluring because it carries with it the hope of undoing the damages of time.
This chapter focuses on the eΜeΚnal ΚeΜΝΚn Ηf Μhe Benedictines through their study of the Rule and performed ritual (mainly, the Office). Unlike the Rule, which was passed down through history intact, the music of the Benedictines was scattered; by reconstructing the then-disparate Gregorian repertoire, the monks at the Abbaye Saint-Pierre de Solesmes equipped their monastic brethren (and the Catholic Church) with another tool music to helΘ enΜeΚ Μhe aΜemΘΗΚal ΛΘace deΛcΚΑbed bΡ ElΑade. WhΑle they succeeded at assembling a more-or-less complete collection of the chant, their process was not without disagreement.
Even aΛ ΚecenΜlΡ aΛ PΗΘe BenedΑcΜ XVI Λ ΘaΘacΡ, Μhe ChΝΚch haΛ been decΑdΑng hΗΟ beΛΜ ΜΗ utilize this body of work.
Catholicism at the Fin de Siècle
While the Catholic Church had played an important role in shaping European culture through much of the second millennium, reason and intellectualism ruled the eighteenth century. The Enlightenment left hardly any aspect of European life unchanged. As historian and Francophile Dan Edelstein argues, this movement was particularly strong in France.
68 Eliade, Cosmos and History, 89. 38
While Edelstein acknowledges the continental impact of the Enlightenment, he maintains that
FΚench ΛchΗlaΚΛ ΟeΚe Μhe fΑΚΛΜ ΜΗ ΝndeΚΛΜand ΜheΑΚ geneΚaΜΑΗn Λ ΑnheΚΑΜance Ηf Μhe ΛcΑenΜΑfΑc advanceΛ made Αn Μhe ΛevenΜeenΜh cenΜΝΚΡ. AΛ he ΟΚΑΜeΛ, The ΘΚeΛenΜ age ΟaΛ enlΑghΜened becaΝΛe Μhe ΘhΑlΗΛΗΘhΑcal ΛΘΑΚΑΜ Ηf Μhe ScΑenΜΑfΑc Revolution had spread to the educated classes, institutions of learning, and even parts of the government. More generally, they aΚgΝed, changeΛ Αn ΛcΑence had led ΜΗ changeΛ Αn ΛΗcΑeΜΡ. 69
Thomas J. Schlereth elucidates this last point further, claiming that Μhe laΚgeΛΜ change
Αn ΛΗcΑeΜΡ ΟaΛ Ηf a geneΚal cΗΛmΗΘΗlΑΜanΑΛm ΜhaΜ manΑfeΛΜed ΑΜΛelf Αn ΛeveΚal ΟaΡΛ. AΜ ΑΜΛ baΛe was a dissociation from the loyalties connected to geographical region, replaced with a higher regard for the world as a whole.70 This sense of worldliness also resulted Αn Μhe aΜΜemΘΜ ΜΗ transcend chauvinistic national loyalties or parochial prejudices including the Crown and the Church in its intellectual interests and pursuits. 71 The cΗΛmΗΘΗlΑΜe, wrote Schlereth,
. . . sought to be identified by an interest in, a familiarity with, or appreciation of many parts and peoples of the world; he wished to be distinguished by a readiness to borrow from other lands or civilizations in the formation of his intellectual, cultural, and artistic patterns. Therefore, the typical Enlightenment cosmopolite aspired to be although he did not always succeed in being eclectic in his philosophical and scientific outlook, synergistic in his religious perspective, and international in his economic and political thought.72
Few individuals attained this perfect state of cosmopolitanism, a fact that Schlereth is quick to
69 Dan Edelstein, The Enlightenment: A Genealogy (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 2010), 2. 70 Thomas J. Schlereth, The Cosmopolitan Ideal in Enlightenment Thought (Notre Dame, IN: University of Notre Dame Press, 1977), xiii. 71 Ibid., xi. 72 Ibid., xi-xii. 39 point out.73 Nonetheless, these were societal ideals that held a deep power over people, amΗΝnΜΑng ΜΗ ΟhaΜ PeΜeΚ GaΡ called mΗdeΚn ΘaganΑΛm. 74
No institutions or philosophies were deemed too sacred for enlightened thinkers to contemplate and dismantle. This rogue spirit, backed by the cosmopolitan ideal, provided the humanistic grounds for the complete upturning of society during the French Revolution. To be fair, there were a number of other outside factors that contributed to the unrest that eventually broke out into full revolution, including financial crisis, an out-of-touch monarchy, failed reform, and the successful American Revolution.75 Even the Catholic Church itself an object of enlightened rebellion challenged the state when threatened with taxation.76
Nonetheless, the rise of the educated, cosmopolitan middle class was crucial in fueling the
ΘΝblΑc ΗΘΘΗΛΑΜΑΗn ΜΗ Μhe CΚΗΟn ΜhaΜ ΚeΛΝlΜed Αn LΗΝΑΛ XVI Λ eventual execution in 1793.77
WhΑle Μhe ΓΑng Λ ΚelΑgΑΗΝΛ belΑefΛ had lΑΜΜle Αf nΗΜhΑng ΜΗ dΗ ΟΑΜh hΑΛ eΠecΝΜΑΗn, ΚelΑgΑΗn was viewed by revolutionaries with the same type of distrust they felt for the government.78
Catholic orthodoxy disagreed with the general philosophical ethos of the time, which was based on the scientific and economic progressivism of the eighteenth century. That the
Catholic Church was seen as an institution opposed to liberalism was only one strike against it: in fact, Catholicism was a privileged religion in France, and the clergy were given legal
73 Ibid., xiv. 74 Peter Gay, The Enlightenment: An Interpretation, vol. I, The Rise of Modern Paganism (New York: Knopf, 1966). 75 William Doyle, Origins of the French Revolution, 2nd ed (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1989). 76 Ibid., 68-69. 77 Roger Chartier, The Cultural Origins of the French Revolution, translated by Lydia G. Cochran (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 1991), 20, 134. 78 Ibid., 92. 40 estate a distinction that, among other entitlements, freed them from taxation.79 These points directly contradicted the revolutionary call for égalité, and eventually resulted in the
ΛΡΛΜemaΜΑc decΗnΛΜΚΝcΜΑΗn Ηf ChΝΚch Λ Θresence in France known as dechristianization.
Between the years of 1789 and 1794, the Church had its lands taken away and sold, priests were forced to pledge allegiance to the country (as opposed to Rome), monastic orders were disbanded, France started its own calendar completely separate from the Gregorian standard, churches were turned into secular temples to Reason, and clergy who neglected to flee the country were either sent to Guiana or executed.80
Dom Guéranger: Reformer
The fervent anti-religious attitude let up somewhat in mid-1795; worship was once again permitted, and priests were allowed to officiate as long as they had taken an oath of
ΛΝbmΑΛΛΑΗn ΜΗ Μhe laΟΛ the set of doctrines established by the post-monarchical National
Convention.81 After Napoleon Bonaparte became First Consul of France in 1799, he and the newly elected Pope Pius VII began negotiations to restore freedom of public worship.82 As
Ηne aΝΜhΗΚ ΛΝmmaΚΑΣed, NaΘΗleΗn ΟΑΛhed ΜΗ ΚeΝnΑΜe Μhe CaΜhΗlΑc Church in France and gaΑn Μhe acceΘΜance Ηf Μhe CaΜhΗlΑc ΘΗΘΝlaΜΑΗn. 83 In July of 1801, Napoleon and Pius VII
79 WΑllΑam RΗgeΚΛ BΚΝbaΓeΚ, The FΚench RevΗlΝΜΑΗn and Μhe InvenΜΑΗn Ηf CΑΜΑΣenΛhΑΘ Αn French Politics and Society 7, no. 3 (Summer 1989): 31. 80 GeΗΚgeΛ GΗΡaΝ, FΚench RevΗlΝΜΑΗn Αn The Catholic Encyclopedia, vol. 13 (New York: Robert Appleton Company, 1912), http://www.newadvent.org/cathen/13009a.htm. 81 Ibid. 82 D. L. L. Parry and Pierre Girard, France Since 1800: Squaring the Hexagon (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002), 12. 83 Ibid. 41 signed the Concordat of 1801 which allowed freedom for the practice of Catholicism, and encouraged exiled priests to return to France.84
WhΑle NaΘΗleΗn Λ negotiation was self-serving, it nonetheless opened the door for sincere religious devotion. Proper Guéranger (1805-1875), a Catholic priest in the parish of
Sablé-sur-Sarthe, was a product of this re-born Church. As a young man, Guéranger recognized that the lack of French monasticism a holdover from the Revolution was a deficiency for not only the Church but for French culture in general. In his mind, the institution of monasticism had led to the profound theological and moral developments that once made society great.85 For centuries, monks had cultivated knowledge in theology, philosophy, literature, visual arts, agriculture, culinary, and music, among other things. As
Enlightenment thought gained traction throughout Europe, the bright thinkers who might have otherwise taken a religious vocation could instead explore those ideas at any number of secular institutions. The French Revolution and its subsequent disbanding of monasteries was merely a final straw in what was already a dwindling practice.
In his twenties, Guéranger sought to establish a monastery at Solesmes about four kilometers from Sablé. Solesmes was the site of a priory built in the 1100s, but it had fallen out of use by the mid-1700s and was nearly destroyed. In 1832, Guéranger received papal approval to turn the old priory into a monastery, thus reestablishing in France the
Benedictine order which had been disbanded only a few generations earlier. In 1837, the monastery became an abbey, and Guéranger became its first abbot, taking the common monastic honorific of Dom master.
84 Ibid. 85 Katherine Bergeron, Decadent Enchantments: The Revival of Gregorian Chant at Solesmes (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1998), 11. 42
Even before establishing the monastery, Guéranger recognized a vitality in past experience that he hoped to recreate at Solesmes. In particular, he took up the cause of the
Latin liturgy the Tridentine Mass in particular which in France was secondary to the more popular, more authentically French, Gallican rite.86 Aligning himself with a group of French liturgical reformers, he sought the reintegration of the French Church into the Roman
Catholic rite.87 In his first major work, Institutions liturgiques, GΝéΚangeΚ ΟΚΗΜe, All ΗΝΚ national customs, our poetry, our religious and civil institutions are mingled with
ΚemembΚanceΛ Ηf Μhe ancΑenΜ lΑΜΝΚgΡ Οe nΗΟ mΗΝΚn. 88 Guéranger mourned not only the lost
Latin liturgy but also what he saw as its inherent social benefits. Thus, his vision for the future extended far beyond the Church: Guéranger hoped that through liturgical reform, his whole country could be healed from the brokenness it had experienced decades before.
Liturgical reformers still recognize Guéranger as the cornerstone of Catholic reform.
Louis Bouyer, one such reformer, wrote, TheΚe ΑΛ nΗ achΑevemenΜ ΟhaΜeveΚ Αn Μhe contemporary liturgical movement which did not originate in some way with Dom
GΝéΚangeΚ. 89 Guéranger Λ ΜaΛΓ ΟaΛ ΜΗ cΗllecΜ, organize, and write commentary for the entire
Roman liturgical calendar, which he then practiced at his abbey. His final product, L’année
Liturgique, consists of fifteen volumes spanning over 7000 pages.
86 Jean-PΑeΚΚe ChanΜΑn, DeΛ ΒanΛénΑΛΜeΛ enΜΚe ΗΚΜhΗdΗΠΑe eΜ dΑΛΛΑdence aΝ débΝΜ dΝ XIXe ΛΑècle, Histoire@Politique 18 (September 2012), http://www.histoire- politique.fr/index.php?numero=18&rub=dossier&item=174. 87 Bergeron, Decadent Enchantments, 11. 88 Quoted in Bergeron, 11. 89 QΝΗΜed Αn RΗland MΑllaΚe, The SΘΑΚΑΜ Ηf Μhe LΑΜΝΚgΑcal MΗvemenΜ: A BenedΑcΜΑne ReneΟal Ηf CΝlΜΝΚe, Logos: A Journal of Catholic Thought and Culture 17 no. 4 (Fall 2014): 132, http://muse.jhu.edu/journals/log/summary/v017/17.4.millare.html. 43
In one sense, Guéranger was a socially conservative reformer who wanted to reestablish the primacy of the Latin liturgy in France to bring a renaissance to the Church there. And yet, his Catholic faith and conservatism notwithstanding, his methods, work ethic, and results are in line with any of the masterful achievements of the Enlightenment. His studied approach to the liturgy and the thoroughness with which he set about organizing this massive body of ritual is no less impressive than NeΟΜΗn Λ Philosophiae Naturalis Principia
Mathematica or DΑdeΚΗΜ Λ Encyclopédie. Although he missed the height of the Enlightenment by several decades, the ethos of that time seems to have propelled him to action as much as his faith did.
AlΛΗ nΗΜable Αn GΝéΚangeΚ Λ ΚefΗΚm ΑΛ Μhe facΜ ΜhaΜ he ΟaΛ ΟΗΚΓΑng Ηn Μhe TΚΑdenΜΑne
Mass itself a product of the Catholic Reformation nearly 300 years prior. Perhaps Guéranger recognized that the ecclesiastical crisis of his time was matched only by that of the 1500s.
Certainly, there were many parallels between the two times: at both points, the Church found itself threatened by contrary philosophical movements, and in each instance, individuals sought solutions to the issue through liturgical reform. Like the Church of the Reformation,
GΝéΚangeΚ Λ ChΝΚch ΟaΛ ultimately refined by the struggle.
Restoration of the Chant: A Fundamental Change
A further parallel between these two movements is the primary role that music played in each. While Palestrina is legendary for saving sacred polyphony during the Reformation,90
90 WhΑle ΑΜ ΑΛ ΟΑdelΡ acceΘΜed ΜhaΜ Μhe famΗΝΛ PΗΘe MaΚcellΝΛ MaΛΛ ΛΜΗΚΡ ΑΛ ΑnaccΝΚaΜe, ΛchΗlaΚΛ agΚee that Palestrina was, in fact, instrumental in creating a new body of sacred polyphony with parts that were both 44
Guéranger looked back even further in time, to Gregorian chant. Dom Guéranger was interested in music purely as an outgrowth of the liturgy, not as an autonomous art. Chant is an ideal style of music for this purpose: the focus of the listener and the performer is always on the text itself, its rhythms ensure uniformity of expression, and its melodies illuminate and highlight text. However, like the liturgy that Guéranger had to compile, chant was scattered.
The Solesmes monks thus began the task of collecting and restoring the complete
Gregorian repertoire, a project that would forever unite the name of their monastery with
Western music history. Their work amounted to one of the earliest known examples of a complete cΚΑΜΑcal edΑΜΑΗn Ηf ΟΗΚks.92 Their task was three-fold. First, the monks had to find as much of the repertoire as was possible. This was no easy task since many of the nearby monasteries where chant may have once been heard were no longer in use. Instead, they had to venture to libraries in Paris, or to monasteries in Switzerland and Germany journeys that were not only time consuming, but costly.93 After they gathered manuscripts, they faced the challenge of reconciling the written music with any that may have been performed at the collection site. The music the Solesmes monks found was often written in neumes a style of notation designed more to remind performers of melodies, rather than as a precise guide. In many instances, the oral chant tradition learned by monks from their brethren differed in significant ways from the written neumes found in their manuscripts. The Solesmes monks
beautiful and intelligible. See Lewis Lockwood, et al., "Palestrina, Giovanni Pierluigi da," Grove Music Online, Oxford Music Online (Oxford University Press), accessed April 6, 2016, www.oxfordmusiconline.com. See especially the section Palestrina and His Time. 92 Running almost parallel to the Solesmes restoration was the publication of the complete works of J.S. Bach, the first endeavor of its kind for any single composer. Begun in 1851 by the Bach-Gesellschaft, the project was nΗΜ cΗmΘleΜed ΝnΜΑl 1900. FΗΚ mΗΚe, Λee BaΚbaΚa WΑeΚmann Λ NeΟ GΚΗve enΜΚΡ, Bach-GeΛellΛchafΜ. 93 Pierre Combe, The Restoration of Gregorian Chant: Solesmes and the Vatican Edition, trans. by Theodore N. Marier and William Skinner (Washington, D.C.: The Catholic University Press, 2003), 61. 45 had to study the manuscripts of a given monastery against their musical performances, and determine which was likelier to be authentic.
When monks found a manuscript or a collection of works, they then had to bring copies of it back to Solesmes. The monks began this project before photography was in common use, so their copying, at least for the first few decades of their work, all took place by hand. In addition to copying the written music, the monks also transcribed live performances to use as a guide in interpreting the written manuscripts. Their efforts were sped up moderately in the latter half of the 1800s when the steam engine and the camera became more accessible, but these luxuries were costly, and the monks avoided their use when possible.
After the chants had been found, copied, and taken back to Solesmes, the monks began the principal task of comparing, correcting, and editing the manuscripts to create a definitive version of each piece. In many cases, the monks had to deal with multiple differing copies of a single chant, and thus had to determine which of those ΟeΚe aΝΜhΗΚΑΜaΜΑve, (or, as was more often the case, which parts of a given copy were authoritative) and why. Even in the most well-known chants for instance, the Puer natus sung at Christmas Mass variations existed in numerous copies. This matter was complicated even more when accounting for differences in performance that could either be legitimate musical variations, or simply a regional (or local) performative affect. Each piece of chant, for each day of the liturgical calendar, received this treatment, as did the chants for every major holiday and festival. When a particular melody was finally agreed upon, it was notated in quadratic neumes on a four line staff.
The work that the SΗleΛmeΛ mΗnΓΛ dΑd ΑΛ ΚemaΚΓable even bΡ ΜΗdaΡ Λ ΛΜandaΚdΛ; ΜhaΜ they were able to produce this magnificent body of work without most modern luxuries is a
46 credit to their skills as musicians and editors, and a testament to the power of community.
The peer-reviewed process gave the final product scholastic rigor and religious authority, and also ensured that this was a body of music worth singing. The monks could make one other claim about their product: whether the chant had originated as a sung melody by the Holy
Spirit, or it was the creation of many different groups over hundreds of years it was now a unified product that had undergone such a huge amount of theological scrutiny that to think of it as anything other than God Λ ΗΟn mΝΛΑc, heΚe Ηn eaΚΜh, ΟaΛ ΝnΜhΑnΓable.
Without diminishing the incredible work of the Solesmes monks, their restoration of chant created some problematic issues. Foremost were the judgments that regarded one piece of chant or one performance style aΛ mΗΚe aΝΜhenΜΑc than another. The notion of authenticity in music of trying to find a music that is in some way true is an outgrowth of
Μhe eΜeΚnal ΚeΜΝΚn mΡΜh dΑΛcΝΛΛed aΜ Μhe begΑnnΑng Ηf ΜhΑΛ chaΘΜeΚ. In Μhe caΛe Ηf Μhe chanΜ restoration, monks sometimes made choices based on prayer and spiritual intuition; at other times, they made decisions based on empirical evidence (i.e., if a particular musical variation was shown to be prevalent amongst all others). Neither of these approaches is inherently wrong or right, but both speak to the fact that the monks were working towards some imagined ideal that could eventually be recreated, given enough manuscripts and analysis. In actuality, the Solesmes creation was akin to a patchwork quilt, pulled together from many hundreds of sources, each of which had its own rich performance history with roots stemming back hundreds of years. Impressive and beautiful as it may be, it nonetheless comprises many fragments that are placed together in a somewhat unnatural fashion.
The truth is that no single monastery, collection, manuscript, or performance has an
ΑnheΚenΜ ΚΑghΜ ΜΗ be called aΝΜhenΜΑc ; ΜhΑΛ ΑΛ a ΜeΚm ΜhaΜ, lΑΓe anΡ cΝlΜΝΚal ΒΝdgmenΜ, ΚelΑeΛ Ηn
47 the shared belief and agreement of many people. In essence, beyond simply creating a physical collection of agreed-upon chants, the Solesmes monks created a canon for chant. The versions they arranged whether they existed elsewhere in whole or in pieces that they merged satisfied the monastic need for a beautiful, spiritual, and practical body of music. For the first time in history, chant for the entire year was accessible, in encyclopedic-form, with legible and easily-singable musical notation. No longer did monks (or any type of religious person) need to rely on oral tradition; instead, one could simply read the chant and, without excessive practice or prior knowledge, give a suitable performance. By writing on paper what had been a primarily oral tradition, the Solesmes monks made a standardized performance practice. But the real integrity of the Solesmes restoration was not simply that it could be practiced, but that through intense musicological scrutiny they could claim their versions to be as close-to- authentic as was possible. The gravitas of the Solesmes work like the liturgical work of
Guéranger gave it the power to both confirm that which is in it and deny that which was left out.
The thousand-year-old tradition of how chant was performed, taught, and learned was fundamentally changed in less than a century. In 1904, the Vatican approved the Solesmes restoration as the official music of the Catholic Church. Later that year, ensembles under the direction of two Solesmes monks Dom André Mocquereau and Dom Joseph Pothier were audio recorded at the 1904 Gregorian Congress at the Vatican.94 Though these recordings were educational and historical rather than commercial, they symbolized yet another way in which
94 These recordings were originally released by Gramophone as a series of twenty-three 78-r.p.m. records. They were compiled and re-released as 1904 Gregorian Congress, Discant Recordings, 1982. 33 1/3 rpm, mono, 2 LPs. The recordings of chant from this congress are also found on the YouTube channel hosted by Corpus Christi Watershed (https://www.youtube.com/user/ccwatershed/videos). 48 the chant tradition was changed: how it could be listened to and consumed. Although these recordings did not fundamentally influence the distinct styles of other monasteries (and indeed, significant differences in style exist between Mocquereau and Pothier), they nonetheless laid a new groundwork for how the music of the Church could be recorded (in sound rather than on paper) and disseminated (through material rather than personal experience). While few would argue that recordings can reproduce the sound fidelity and nuance of a live performance, they often suffice given the constraints of time and money that most listeners necessarily face.
Nineteenth-century monasticism brought into its sociological meshwork developing technologies, cultural trends and movements, and charismatic individuals whose bundles of lines seemed to be knotting up with everything in the way. The habitus that developed afforded monks the ability to perform and create in ways that were previously unimaginable.
Although key components of their tradition had been changed, the Solesmes monks nevertheless maintained the meshwork of earlier monastic generations through ritual performance. No matter the ways in which their traditions were learned and practiced, they enabled the creation of communitas that could withstand unstable forces.
Gregorian Chant: A Romantic Construct?
Up until this point, I have discussed the work of the Solesmes monks especially Dom
Guéranger as having to do with the sort of residual spirit of the Enlightenment. That is,
GΝéΚangeΚ Λ approach to his subject was certainly within the zeitgeist of other great thinkers of that time, even if he missed its heyday by several decades. But while the exhaustive
49 methods and organization may have fit with Enlightened thought, the music itself espoused the nineteenth-century Romanticism more typical of Μhe mΗnΓΛ own time. This music is emotional, spiritual, and in which the written word is a central feature. Even its piece-work cΗnΛΜΚΝcΜΑΗn ΑΛ ΚemΑnΑΛcenΜ Ηf ShelleΡ Λ mΗΛΜ famΗΝΛ protagonist.
The Rule itself espouses this duality of reason and spirituality; Living life by the logical and practical Rule frees one from the worldly constraints that hinder rich spiritual lives.
Although Benedict never directly appeals ΜΗ hΑΛ ΚeadeΚ Λ emotions, he also does not want mere followers of a schedule. Instead, he writes,
If a certain strictness results from the dictates of equity for the amendment of vices or the preservation of charity, do not be at once dismayed and fly from the way of salvation. . . . For as we advance in the religious life and in faith, our hearts expand and Οe ΚΝn Μhe ΟaΡ Ηf GΗd Λ cΗmmandmenΜΛ ΟΑΜh ΝnΛΘeaΓable ΛΟeeΜneΛΛ Ηf lΗve.95
In the case of the Rule, a reasoned approach leads to a life of emotional and spiritual depth.
Similarly, bΡ ΟaΡ Ηf DΗm GΝéΚangeΚ Λ cΗmΘΚehenΛΑve ΟΗΚΓ, Μhe mΗnΓΛ aΜ SΗleΛmeΛ and beyond could have spiritual experiences filled with awe and emotional depth.
I do not wish to imply here that this repertoire should be studied in the same way as other Classical or Romantic music (or art in general); clearly their creative impulses are different, as are their styles. However, the timeless quality of this repertoire stemming from both the Solesmes method of reaching far into the past and its inherent infinitude vis-à-vis its connection to the Church encourages singers and audiences to read into it the particular musical and social issues that they face. Nonetheless, the body of Gregorian chant compiled
95 RB 1980, Prologue: 18-19. 50 by the Solesmes monks bears some distinctive marks of its reconstructed time that are worth illustrating.
Nineteenth-century music criticism centered on two opposed sides: on one side were
Μhe ΘΚΗgΚammaΜΑcΑΛΜΛ ΟhΗ belΑeved mΝΛΑc ΛhΗΝld embΚace, lΑΓe WagneΚ Λ, ΜeΠΜ and aΚΜ Ηf all kinds to help tell its story. On the other side of this critical dialogue was Eduard Hanslick and the absolutists, who thought that music should speak for itself and that reliance on other art cheapened the power of music.96 This debate attempted to answer not only WhaΜ ΑΛ mΝΛΑc? and What is the main purpose Ηf mΝΛΑc? but also, How best can we use music to fulfill those purposes? Those on the absolutist side favored the approach of Brahms, who they heard as the heir of a great tradition of instrumental music composed of tönend bewegte
Formen ΜΗnallΡ mΗvΑng fΗΚmΛ that obeyed their own grammar.97 The Programmaticists saw music as an art that could encompass many others, and as an art that was strongest when it was building bridges across disciplines. With text especially, music has the ability to relay specific ideas in a way that is more convincing (both emotionally and intellectually) than simply spoken or written text by itself.
The chant revival of the nineteenth century uniquely captured these two polar sides.
Of course, chanΜ Λ connection to text is self-evident: it is part of Catholic liturgy and incorporates poeticized Latin texts of the Bible. Monks themselves note the intimate connection here between text and music. As Fr. Michael noted in our interview, the contours of the vocal melodies were so perfectly placed with the text that those who know the chant
96 Thomas S. Grey, "Hanslick, Eduard," Grove Music Online, Oxford Music Online (Oxford University Press), accessed March 2, 2016, www.oxfordmusiconline.com. See eΛΘecΑallΡ Μhe ΛecΜΑΗnΛ AeΛΜheΜΑcΛ and CΚΑΜΑcΑΛm. 97 Geoffrey Payzant, HanΛlΑcΓ, SamΛ, GaΡ, and Tönend BeΟegΜe FΗΚmen, The Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism 40, no. 1 (Autumn, 1981): 44. 51 cannot imagine one without the other. Moreover, its performance within the framework of the church is not unlike the staging of an opera or musical. The architecture, art, and movement are incorporated into the music and affect its transmission.
Despite this fruitful relationship, though, and despite the presence of liturgical context and text, chant nonetheless has existed as a type of absolute music. As a spoken language,
Latin had essentially been dead for hundreds of years except within the Church itself. Even within the Church, Latin was used not because it was (necessarily) universally understood, but as a symbol of universality. This is not to say that the Catholic faith was misunderstood during this time; certainly, there were bi-lingual missals, and those who had attended Mass regularly and studied Latin were able to follow along with relative ease and accuracy.
However, it is also entirely possible to sit through a Catholic Mass without following along whatsoever to simply basΓ Αn Μhe ΚΑΜΝal Λ ΛenΛΗΚΡ delΑghΜΛ. ThΝΛ, Αnstead of delivering an explicitly theological message, chant could also serve a more general spiritual function.
And yet despite their inability to find explicit meaning in the chant, the attendees still might have some idea as to the general spiritual nature of the music due to its sound and context. Raymond Monelle, using the semiologic approach of C. S. Peirce, would argue that chant and its components (musical, linguistic, and material) are all signs that convey meaning by virtue of their interpretants.98 Monelle reserves the distinction of ΛΡmbΗl ΜΗ ΛΑgnΛ ΟΑΜh
an agΚeed ΗΚ cΝlΜΝΚal neΠΝΛ aΘΘΚehended bΡ Μhe mΑnd, claΚΑfΡΑng laΜeΚ ΜhaΜ ΜheΛe aΚe
cΝlΜΝΚallΡ ΜΚanΛfeΚΚed. 99 The music of chant and the use of Latin are thus symbols of the
98 Raymond Monelle, MΝΛΑc and Μhe PeiΚcean TΚΑchΗΜΗmΑeΛ, International Review of the Aesthetics and Sociology of Music 22, no. 1 (June 1991), 100. 99 Ibid., 102. 52 power and majesty of the Church, and are signs that point Christians (and others familiar with the religion) to the Church itself.
Since Latin is scarcely heard except within the Church, its use (for church-goers) signifies the Church itself, and is thus associated with the divine. By singing in this language, monks and other religious remove themselves from the earthly realm of vernacular languages and fill themselves with both the Word and language of God. Anyone who might happen to be listening would hear the voices of beings who are insiders in the heavenly realm.
Mysterious spirituality is certainly one of the hallmarks of Romanticism, as it is at the heart of many of the great works of the nineteenth century.
There is one further reason to sing in Latin a reason that once more connects to the idea of unity. Languages created barriers between European peoples in the nineteenth century, and languages served as national symbols. Using Μhe ΝnΑveΚΛal LaΜΑn nΗΜ ΗnlΡ ΚeaffΑΚmed Μhe roots of the Church, but it also looked back to a time in which the European continent was united under the Roman Empire. Latin eschewed political moments of the present and was thus accessible (or equally inaccessible) to all peoples regardless of nationality or language. The fact that it was not completely understood was of little consequence; everyday people could, at the very least, be united in their relative inability to recognize the subtleties of the language.
In his 2012 M.M. thesis, Matthew DelCiampo notes a similar linguistic phenomenon in contemporary kirtan music performed in yoga studios in the United States. DelCiampo notes that despite westernized musical styles, kirtan music in the US tends to be sung in
SanΛΓΚΑΜ, ΟhΑch he ΛΝggeΛΜΛ gΑveΛ ΘaΚΜΑcΑΘanΜΛ an aΝΜhenΜΑc eΠΘeΚΑence. UΛΑng SanΛΓΚΑΜ empowers kirtan leaderΛ bΡ ΘΚΗvΑdΑng a fΗΚeΑgnneΛΛ ΜhaΜ ΟΑll be ΘeΚceΑved aΛ aΝΜhenΜΑc, he
53
ΟΚΑΜeΛ. ThΑΛ ΑΛ nΗΜ ΜΗ ΛaΡ ΜhaΜ ΓΑΚΜan leadeΚΛ aΚe nΗΜ ΓnΗΟledgeable, bΝΜ ΜhaΜ ΜheΚe ΑΛ an aΝΜΗmaΜΑc ΘeΚceΘΜΑΗn Ηf ΓnΗΟledge bΡ chanΜΑng Αn SanΛΓΚΑΜ. 102
The participants whom DelCiampo interviewed mentioned several reasons for this
ΘeΚceΑved aΝΜhenΜΑcΑΜΡ, ΑnclΝdΑng Μhe ΛΗΝnd Ηf Μhe ΛΡllableΛ, Μhe ancΑenΜ ΙΝalΑΜΡ and hΑΛΜΗΚΡ Ηf the language, [and] the foreignness and mystique associated with [Sanskrit]. 103 He continues:
Chanting in Sanskrit works in this situation . . . because these kirtan participants are generally not fluent in the language. While [kirtan leader] Mike [Cohen] makes every attempt to explain the subject matter of each chant, and even projects the lyrics behind him so that participants can follow along, the meaning is often less important [than] the reaction the participants receive. Due to the spiritual diversity of participants, chanting in a foreign language provides one more level of abstraction, allowing for individual interpretations and applications of each chant.104
Gregorian chant has an effect similar to that which DelCiampo described. Congregants perceive the sound of the music and the language of chant to be foreign, mysterious, beautiful, and perhaps, intimately connected with the divine. Moreover, the otherness of Latin (like
Sanskrit) transcends all individuals and suggests a unity among participants. Despite the fact that monks offer translations of the text at every service, many visitors I witnessed simply allow the sounds of the music to wash over them.
. . .
102 MaΜΜheΟ DelCΑamΘΗ, BΝΡΑng SΘΑΚΑΜΝalΑΜΡ: CΗmmΗdΑΜΡ and MeanΑng Αn AmeΚΑcan KΑΚΜan MΝΛΑc (MaΛΜeΚ Λ thesis, Florida State University, 2012), 39, http://purl.flvc.org/fsu/fd/FSU_migr_etd-4793. 103 Ibid. 104 DelCiampo, BΝΡΑng SΘΑΚΑΜΝalΑΜΡ, 40. 54
Codification of Chant
By the late nineteenth century, the monks at Solesmes had finished a restoration of the chant that, while not completely solidified, was nonetheless practical and useful in the liturgy.105 Its use did not become widespread, though, until 1903 when Pius X was elected the
Bishop of Rome. Whereas his predecessor, Leo XIII, had a hands-off approach to liturgy and music, Pius X began reforms of both within his first three months of papacy.106 In November
1903, he published a motu proprio on the music Ηf Μhe ChΝΚch. TheΚe ΑΛ a geneΚal ΜendencΡ, accΗΚdΑng ΜΗ PΑΝΛ, ΜΗ devΑaΜe fΚΗm Μhe ΚΑghΜ ΚΝle . . . fΗΚ ΟhΑch aΚΜ ΑΛ admΑΜΜed ΜΗ Μhe ΛeΚvΑce of publΑc ΟΗΚΛhΑΘ. 107 In particular, Pius was writing against ΘΚΗfane and ΜheaΜΚΑcal mΝΛΑc, and that whose sole purpose was pleasure.108 The antidote to the rampant progressivism in music was the embrace of Gregorian chant. Pius argued that sacred music should complement
105 MΑllaΚe, The SΘΑΚΑΜ Ηf Μhe LΑΜΝΚgΑcal MΗvemenΜ, 133. 106 Umberto Benigni, "Pope Leo XIII," in The Catholic Encyclopedia, vol. 9 (New York: Robert Appleton Company, 1910), March 02, 2016, http://www.newadvent.org/cathen/09169a.htm; IbΑd., PΗΘe PΑΝΛ X, Αn The Catholic Encyclopedia, Vol. 12. (New York: Robert Appleton Company, 1911), March 02, 2016, http://www.newadvent.org/cathen/12137a.htm. 107 Pope Pius X, Motu Proprio TΚa le SΗllecΑΜΝdΑnΑ I (NΗvembeΚ 22, 1903). AcceΛΛed MaΚch 02, 2016 http://www.adoremus.org/MotuProprio.html. 108 Ibid. PΑΝΛ neveΚ dΑΛcΝΛΛed ΘaΚΜΑcΝlaΚ eΠamΘleΛ Ηf ΟhaΜ he cΗnΛΑdeΚed ΘΚΗfane ΗΚ ΜheaΜΚΑcal. HΗΟeveΚ, eighteen years after the motu proprio, the Society of St. Gregory of America an organization devoted to promoting proper liturgical music ΚeleaΛed a blacΓ lΑΛΜ Ηf mΝΛΑc nΗΜ Αn accΗΚdance ΟΑΜh Μhe motu proprio that was cleaΚlΡ anΜagΗnΑΛΜΑc ΜΗ Μhe ΘΚΑncΑΘleΛ enΝncΑaΜed Αn Μhe dΗcΝmenΜ ΑΛΛΝed bΡ PΗΘe PΑΝΛ X and Pope Pius XI (Λee http://www.musicasacra.com/pdf/blacklist.pdf). The so-called black list contains all Μhe MaΛΛeΛ bΡ a large number of relatively forgettable composers, but also notes that the religious compositions of Mozart, Haydn, Schubert, Rossini, Weber, as well as pieces that play a liturgical role in popular works like VeΚdΑ Λ Jesu Dei Vivi from the opera Attila and WagneΚ Λ and MendelΛΛΗhn Λ ΟeddΑng maΚcheΛ aΚe ΝnfΑΜ fΗΚ lΑΜΝΚgΑcal function according to the principles outlined in the Motu Proprio Ηf PΑΝΛ X. The dΗcΝmenΜ cΗnclΝdeΛ bΡ stating that several publishers made ΚevΑΛed edΑΜΑΗnΛ Ηf ΜheΛe ΟΗΚΓΛ, ΜΗ be Αn accΗΚdance ΟΑΜh Μhe Moto Proprio, bΝΜ ΜhaΜ ΜheΛe ΚevΑΛed edΑΜΑΗnΛ ΟeΚe ΛΜΑll cΗndemned becaΝΛe Μhe cΗmΘΑleΚΛ and edΑΜΗΚΛ have chΗΛen ΜΗ disregard the very plain recommendations contained in the Motu Proprio. ThΝΛ, ΜhΑΛ dΗcΝmenΜ ΑnΛΑnΝaΜeΛ ΜhaΜ pieces like the ones it mentions were the baΛΑΛ fΗΚ PΑΝΛ Λ ΛΜaΜemenΜΛ. 55
Μhe lΑΜΝΚgΡ, eΠclΝde all ΘΚΗfanΑΜΡ Αn bΗΜh cΗnΜenΜ and ΘeΚfΗΚmance, be ΜΚΝe aΚΜ, and fΑnallΡ,
ΝnΑveΚΛal, ΛΗ ΜhaΜ eveΚΡ naΜΑΗn can ΝndeΚΛΜand ΑΜΛ hΗlΑneΛΛ. TheΛe ΙΝalΑΜΑeΛ, ΛΝmmaΚΑΣed
Μhe ΘΗΘe, aΚe ΜΗ be fΗΝnd, Αn Μhe hΑgheΛΜ degΚee, Αn Gregorian Chant [ sic ]. 109
In his follow-up letter to the Cardinal Vicar of Rome, Piux X advocated for action toward making chant the sine qua non of the Church.
IΜ ΑΛ OΝΚ will . . . that in all seminaries and colleges in [Rome] there be introduced once more the most ancient Roman chant which used to resound in our churches and basilicas. . . . And as in former times the chant was spread abroad over the whole Western Church from Rome, so We desire that Our young clerics, educated under Our own eyes, may carry it with them and diffuse it again in their own dioceses.110
In February 1904, Pius chose Dom Joseph Pothier to oversee the Vatican project of restoring the place of chant in the music of the Church.111 Pothier had professed his vows at Solesmes
Αn 1859 and ΟaΛ an ΑnΛΜΚΝmenΜal fΑgΝΚe Αn Μhe mΗnaΛΜeΚΡ Λ ΟΗΚΓ Ηn chanΜ. His books, Le melodies gregoriennes d’après la tradition (1880), a guide for singing and thinking about chant, and Liber Gradualis (1883), a collection of works edited at Solesmes, became two of the cornerstones in early chant studies.112 PΗΜhΑeΚ Λ meΜhΗdΗlΗgΡ Αn cΗmΘΑlΑng Μhe Liber Gradualis relied heavily on performance models of chant, as opposed to the manuscript study and compilation that Solesmes was famous for. His colleague at Solesmes, André Mocquereau, championed a paleographical approach that took into account all of the documented
109 Pius X, Moto Proprio, II.3. 110 PΑΝΛ X, PaΘal LeΜΜeΚ ΜΗ Μhe CaΚdΑnal VΑcaΚ Ηf RΗme, (DecembeΚ 08, 1903). AcceΛΛed MaΚch 02, 2016 http://www.adoremus.org/MotuProprio.html. 111 Dom Lucien David, Dom Joseph Pothier, Abbé de Saint-Wandrille, et la restauration du chant grégorien, 1999, accessed March 02 2016, http://xavier.mail.online.fr/BiographieDomPothier.htm. 112 Ibid. 56 variations in written and performed chant. Unsurprisingly, Pothier championed his own
Liber gradualis over anything presented to the committee by Mocquereau.113
Mocquereau and Pothier represent differing sides of a hermeneutical and editorial argument: does practice supersede written artifact, or vice-versa? Peter Wagner, an early scholar of chant, offered a pointed critiΙΝe Οhen he ΟΚΗΜe Ηf MΗcΙΝeΚeaΝ s version:
The Solesmes cΚΑΜΑcal method [Α.e., MΗcΙΝeΚeaΝ Λ veΚΛΑΗn] investigates each single note or group in accord with its manuscript tradition; the melodic text of each individual portion is established on the basis of the whole material. This method certainly testifies to much labor, to diligence, and high endeavor. But is it free from bias? This question I cannot answer in the affirmative. For the possibility is that we end up with a mode of singing which has never and nowhere existed. The newly employed statistical investigation of the materials of the readings for individual notes or groups brings nothing but scraps of melody, each of which, looked at in itself, appears in its 'purest' or 'oldest' reading. However, together they all produce melodies which have never existed in that form.114
The Catholic faith itself struggles between these issues with its traditions on the one hand, and its primary sacred text on the other. The office of the Pope tangibly connects to the very
Root of Catholicism, and ΛΝggeΛΜΛ Μhe faΑΜh Λ eΛΘecΑallΡ ΛΜΚΗng cΗnnecΜΑΗn ΜΗ ΜΚadΑΜΑΗn; the doctrine of Papal Infallibility is further proof that tradition matters, and is living.
In the end, the committee chose PΗΜhΑeΚ Λ work to be adopted by the larger Church, a fact that was unsurprising since Pothier himself was head of the committee. But the role of tradition proved to be equally important; one might even regard Pius X Λ chΗΗΛΑng Ηf PΗΜhΑeΚ to head the committee as a choice in favor of the traditional approach. In one of her more brilliant passages about the Solesmes restoration of chant, Katherine Bergeron compares
PothΑeΚ Λ meΜhΗd ΜΗ a chΑld-like progeny of the Mother Church:
113 Bergeron, Decadent Enchantments, 152. 114 Quoted in Bergeron, 152. 57
[Chanting] was the act of making a connection to a distant past living the tradition, as it were, through imaginative effort that defined Pothier's concept of Gregorian restoration. Rather than cutting the cord, [i.e., rather than dissociate the performed tradition] he worked to reattach it, restoring the umbilicus through which the chant itself had been nourished by Holy Mother Church. The Holy Father, needless to say, looked benevolently on such family values. In the end, life won.115
She notes the fact that Mocquereau recognized his method as a shedding of tradition. From his perspectΑve, Μhe ΟΚΑΜΜen chanΜ ΟaΛ Μhe aΝΜhenΜΑc version, and centuries of practice led to varied performance styles that strayed away from an ΑmagΑned Αdeal. ManΝΛcΚΑΘΜ ΛΜΝdΡ provided a way of creating a version of chant based on the law of averages that bypassed the fallibility of the human voice, memory, and performance.
In his discussion of this period, Peter WagneΚ cΗndemned MΗcΙΝeΚeaΝ Λ chanΜ, ΛaΡΑng
ΜhaΜ ΑΜ made nΗ ΛenΛe ΜΗ have cΗmΘleΜelΡ aΚchaΑc ΘΚacΜΑceΛ . . . ΑmΘΗΛed ΝΘΗn Μhe ΛΑngeΚ Ηf Μhe
ΜΟenΜΑeΜh cenΜΝΚΡ. 116 WagneΚ Λ ΘΗΑnΜ ΑΛ ΝncleaΚ: ΟhΑle Μhe fΚagmenΜΛ MΗcΙΝeΚeaΝ ΟaΛ
ΟΗΚΓΑng ΟΑΜh mΑghΜ be cΗnΛΑdeΚed aΚchaΑc, hΑΛ ΘΚΗceΛΛ ΟaΛ mΗdeΚn perhaps to its detriment. One questions why this judgment was made so strongly against Mocquereau, when
Ηne mΑghΜ ΒΝΛΜ aΛ eaΛΑlΡ cΚΑΜΑcΑΣe PΗΜhΑeΚ Λ aΘΘΚΗach fΗΚ, ΘeΚhaΘΛ, ΑΜΛ lacΓ Ηf emΘΑΚΑcΑΛm.
Ultimately, jΝdgmenΜΛ abΗΝΜ cΗΚΚecΜ ΘeΚfΗΚmance aΚe ΝΘ ΜΗ Μhe values of the performer, and
Pothier was as knowledgeable about chant performance as anyone who could have been in chaΚge Ηf PΑΝΛ Λ cΗmmΑΜΜee.
But why could the Vatican not have both? Why did they have to choose one method or another, instead of a compromise? I believe, in the end, it was less a judgment of method or product per se, and more a question of practicality. Pothier's version could be learned and
115 Bergeron, Decadent Enchantments, 153. 116 Quoted in Bergeron, 153. 58 performed without a possibility for further significant change. As the written version of a performed tradition, it had the power to dictate a new set of rules. In his book Orality and
Literacy, Walter Ong creates a philosophical dichotomy between written text and spoken
ΟΗΚd. WΚΑΜΑng ΛeΘaΚaΜeΛ Μhe ΓnΗΟeΚ fΚΗm Μhe ΓnΗwn and thus sets up conditions for
ΗbΒecΜΑvΑΜΡ, he ΟΚΑΜeΛ.117 Later, Ong discusses the vulnerability of oral traditions because they lack direct, tangible proof that something is done exactly the same way every time it is enacted. Ong claΑmΛ, OΚal memorization is subject to variation from direct social
ΘΚeΛΛΝΚeΛ. 118 PΗΜhΑeΚ Λ meΜhΗd Ηf collecting what was already a practiced tradition ensured that his chant could be performed well. It also meant that if he returned to those groups with a new written chant, they would be less likely to object to changes because their oral tradition
ΛΝbΒecΜ ΜΗ Μhe ΛΗcΑal ΘΚeΛΛΝΚeΛ Ηf change ΜhaΜ Ong dΑΛcΝΛΛed. WhΑle MΗcΙΝeΚeaΝ s version could be practiced, of course, the discovery of a new manuscript might change his product. By deΛΑgn, MΗcΙΝeΚeaΝ Λ chanΜ ΟaΛ malleable and ΘΚΗne ΜΗ change. However, this notion of an ever-changing repertoire went against the ethos of the Church, and did not provide the stability necessary for performance.
BΝΜ MΗcΙΝeΚeaΝ Λ chanΜ and his method were not cast out of the Vatican into the depths of obscurity. Instead, his process found its home in academia, a world where detailed study is prized, argument is treasured, and change is inevitable. Scholars have filled books, anthologies, and journals based on this notion, and have made many observations that, in reality, actually have had an influence on the repertoire and its performance.
117 Walter Ong, Orality and Literacy: The Technologizing of the Word (New York: Routledge, [1982] 2002), 45. 118 Ibid., 66. 59
The Second Vatican Council
The relationship between Solesmes and their chant did not end in with PΗΘe PΑΝΛ Λ
1904 proclamation. The VaΜΑcan Λ Second Council marked a distinct turn in the Church of the twentieth century, and has had a lasting impact on the institution. The Council convened in
1962 under the leadership of Pope John XXIII and was concluded in 1965 under Pope Paul
VI.119 The point of this Council and indeed, one of its most telling aspects was not to introduce doctrinal changes to the Church, but instead to regroup as an institution, to assess its priorities, and to find the best ways to live out its mission in the twentieth century. As stated in the introduction of the first constitution, the Sacrosanctum Concilium,
This sacred Council has several aims in view: it desires to impart an ever increasing vigor to the Christian life of the faithful; to adapt more suitably to the needs of our own times those institutions which are subject to change; to foster whatever can promote union among all who believe in Christ; to strengthen whatever can help to call the whole of mankind into the household of the Church. The Council therefore sees particularly cogent reasons for undertaking the reform and promotion of the liturgy.120
The third chapter of the Sacrosanctum Concilium focuses on liturgical reform, and allΗΟΛ fΗΚ Μhe changΑng Ηf lΑΜΝΚgΑcal elemenΜΛ Οhen ΜheΡ have ΛΝffeΚed fΚΗm Μhe ΑnΜΚΝΛΑΗn Ηf anything out of harmony with the inneΚ naΜΝΚe Ηf Μhe lΑΜΝΚgΡ. 121 But inner harmony is only one aspect of this reform; the other is the understanding and unity of the Christian body, who
119 While John XXIII is closely associated with the council, none of its documents were published in his lifetime. 120 Paul VI, Sacrosanctum concilium, Vatican, Second Vatican Council, (1963): Introduction (1). http://www.vatican.va/archive/hist_councils/ii_vatican_council/documents/vat- ii_const_19631204_sacrosanctum-concilium_en.html (accessed 04 March 2016). 121 Ibid., I, 3: 21. 60
ΛhΗΝld be enabled ΜΗ ΝndeΚΛΜand [Μhe ΜeΠΜΛ and ΚΑΜeΛ] ΟΑΜh eaΛe and ΜΗ ΜaΓe ΘaΚΜ Αn Μhem fΝllΡ, acΜΑvelΡ, and aΛ befΑΜΛ a cΗmmΝnΑΜΡ. 122 This particular reform marks a huge change in focus of the Catholic Church. First, it acknowledges that certain aspects of worship needed to be changed a fairly progressive step. Second, it acknowledges human participation in a way that had hitherto been ΑgnΗΚed. AΛ aΚΜΑcle 33 ΛΜaΜeΛ, AlΜhΗΝgh Μhe ΛacΚed lΑΜΝΚgΡ ΑΛ abΗve all ΜhΑngΛ
Μhe ΟΗΚΛhΑΘ Ηf Μhe dΑvΑne MaΒeΛΜΡ, ΑΜ lΑΓeΟΑΛe cΗnΜaΑnΛ mΝch ΑnΛΜΚΝcΜΑΗn fΗΚ Μhe faΑΜhfΝl. 123
For this reason, the council moved to allow the use of vernacular languages in most services, as opposed to Latin which had been the norm up that point. The wording of this article is a bΑΜ ΜΚΑcΓΡ; ΗffΑcΑallΡ, The ΝΛe Ηf Μhe LaΜΑn langΝage ΑΛ ΜΗ be ΘΚeΛeΚved Αn Μhe LaΜΑn ΚΑΜeΛ. 124
HΗΟeveΚ, Μhe veΚΡ neΠΜ ΘaΛΛage aΚgΝeΛ ΜhaΜ SΑnce Μhe ΝΛe of the mother tongue, whether in the Mass, the administration of the sacraments, or other parts of the liturgy, frequently may be Ηf gΚeaΜ advanΜage ΜΗ Μhe ΘeΗΘle, Μhe lΑmΑΜΛ Ηf ΑΜΛ emΘlΗΡmenΜ maΡ be eΠΜended. ThΝΛ, even though Latin was still held as the standard language of the church, its practice was no longer mandated. In the past, language had served as a symbolic unifying agent; the shift proposed by Vatican II allowed congregations to be united through their shared understanding, whatever the language may be.
Likewise, the Council Λ decΚee Ηn Μhe DΑvΑne OffΑce ΛeemΛ aΜ Ηnce ΚeΛΜΚΑcΜΑve, bΝΜ Ηn closer review is as lenient as their pronouncement on Latin liturgy. The Council writes,
In accordance with the centuries-old tradition of the Latin rite, the Latin language is to be retained by clerics in the divine office. But in individual cases the ordinary has the power of granting the use of a vernacular translation to those clerics for whom the use of Latin constitutes a grave obstacle to their praying the office properly.125
122 Ibid. 123 Ibid., III, 3, C: 33. 124 Ibid., III, 3, C: 36.1. 125 Ibid., IV: 101. 61
As if to reiterate Μhe CΗΝncΑl Λ openness, Μhe fΗllΗΟΑng ΘaΚagΚaΘh ΛΜaΜeΛ ΜhaΜ AnΡ cleΚΑc bound to the divine office fulfills his obligation if he prays the office in the vernacular together with a group of the faithful or with those mentioned . . . above provided that the text
Ηf Μhe ΜΚanΛlaΜΑΗn ΑΛ aΘΘΚΗved. 126
Curiously, language is not eΠΘlΑcΑΜlΡ dΑΛcΝΛΛed Αn Μhe chaΘΜeΚ ΜΑΜled SacΚed MΝΛΑc.
Nonetheless, the Council notes the importance of music, calling it ΘΚe-eminent amΗng Μhe arts, and that its connection to the text and ritual of the liturgy elevate it to a special status within the Catholic faith itself.127 The OffΑceΛ ΛhΗΝld be celebΚaΜed ΛΗlemnlΡ Αn ΛΗng, and music education and choir singing is to be a top priority of the church.128
The greatest praise is saved for the CΗΝncΑl Λ dΑΛcΝΛΛΑΗn Ηf GΚegΗΚΑan chanΜ. It writes,
Αn aΚΜΑcle 116, The ChΝΚch acΓnΗΟledgeΛ GΚegΗΚΑan chanΜ aΛ ΛΘecΑallΡ ΛΝΑΜed ΜΗ Μhe RΗman liturgy: therefore, other things being equal, it should be given pride of place in liturgical
ΛeΚvΑceΛ. The Church did not prohibit other types of music; in fact, it said that some music,
eΛΘecΑallΡ ΘΗlΡΘhΗnΡ, was allowed, so long as it adhered to and enhanced the liturgy.129
For all of the Council's progressiveness on other matters, they were very clear about preserving the sanctity of the chant tradition, even if its ΜΚΝe ΗΚΑgΑnΛ aΚe ambΑgΝΗΝΛ and ΑΜΛ restoration clouded by controversy. Nonetheless, the Council instituted a new revision, saying The typical edition of the books of Gregorian chant is to be completed, and ΜhaΜ a
more critical edition is to be prepared of those books already published since the restoration bΡ SΜ. PΑΝΛ X. 130 In a sense, then, Mocquereau's vision and purpose were vindicated; the
126 Ibid., IV: 101.3. 127 Ibid., VI: 112. 128 Ibid., VI: 113. 129 Ibid., VI: 116. 130 Ibid., VI: 117. 62
Vatican finally recognized the need not just for a single authoritative version but for versions that could also be studied and mΗdΑfΑed. TΗdaΡ, Μhe SΗleΛmeΛ AbbeΡ (ΑnclΝdΑng Μhe abbeΡ Λ online bookstore) sells hundreds of books on chant. Several come from Mocquereau and
Pothier, and other monks from their generation; a few are from the decades after them; the vast majority, however, have been compiled since Vatican II. Their authors consist of academic monks and monk-like academics.131
In its treatment of chant, the Catholic Church has very clearly tried to connect its present experience with its history. Vatican II was not just about modernizing the church it was about laying a new groundwork that would, hopefully, carry the Church through centuries. The CΗΝncΑl Λ treatment of chant acknowledged the fact that this is a vital component of Μhe ChΝΚch Λ history, its worship, and its future. The Council was quick to recognize other participatory phenomena and the need to modernize those while keeping their basic theological importance intact. The fact that the Council left chant more-or-less untouched (even if they opened it up for revision) should tell us a great deal about how this
Council felt about this particular tradition. Essentially, its power lay in its historicity. Its ability to convey the deepest truths of the Church was not arbitrary; this motion by the
Vatican II Council concluded, in essence, that although chant was the product of a specific culture, it was suitable as a tool for all cultures. Its unchanging influence was as eternal as the
Church Herself.
131 When I conducted my fieldwork at Solesmes, I happened to meet Thomas Forest Kelly, a preeminent scholar of Gregorian chant. He stayed for just a couple of days, and was there primarily to teach the young monks about their own chant manuscripts. According to Kelly, chant study among the Solesmes monks has slowed considerably in the past decade or so. He demonstrated to them many of the issues that I have talked about here, and explained to them the issues that they can help solve, should they wish to be trained in musicology. 63
Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger: Liturgical Reformer
Few church officials have been as interested as Joseph Ratzinger in liturgical study and reformation; few theologians have been as intellectually gifted or prolific as this particular reformer. Ratzinger was ordained as a priest in 1951 but immediately began a career in education. After earning his doctorate (1953) and his qualifications to teach at the university level (1957), he moved through the German university system, lecturing at Freising, Bonn,
Münster, and Tubingen, consecutively.132 He was very quickly recognized as a gifted theologian, and served as a theological expert for Cardinal Joseph Frings during the Second
Vatican Council. After the conclusion of the Council, Ratzinger wrote several books, including the still influential Introduction to Christianity (1968) and Faith and Future (1970).
He founded a theological journal in 1972, became Archbishop of Munich and Freising in
1977, and then later that year, cardinal.
Ratzinger was unusual in avoiding the typical hierarchical path associated with the
College of Cardinals. His voting in as successor to Pope John Paul II is all the more remarkable because he had no real experience leading even a parish church. Perhaps this shows just how well-respected his theology was among the other cardinals, that, despite his lack of true experience, he was still seen as possessing the mind necessary not just to be the church's supreme leader, but as having a unique ability of translating that knowledge into messages that were understandable by the laity.
132 Libreria Editrice Vaticana, BΑΗgΚaΘhΡ Ηf HΑΛ HΗlΑneΛΛ, PΗΘe BenedΑcΜ XVI, 2005, acceΛΛed MaΚch 04 2016, http://w2.vatican.va/content/benedict-xvi/en/biography/documents/hf_ben-xvi_bio_20050419_short- biography.html. 64
Before his becoming pope, Ratzinger's magnum opus was his work Spirit of the Liturgy
(2000), a broad synthesis of his theological, liturgical, artistic, and musical philosophies, rooted in Catholic faith and worship. He leaves no part of modern life untouched, and he proves to be an extremely well-read, attentive, and culturally and historically aware scholar. For instance, supporting his theological discussion are examples pulled from Italian frescos, dance, liturgical action; his world view values life, disagrees with (but knows a surprising amount about) rock music, and focuses on prayer in all things. This is not to say that his views are without controversy; his particularly conservative approach to many aspects of the Church and culture are, at best, questioned by many Western members of the Church. Nonetheless, he is exceptionally clear in his descriptions, and exceptionally logical in his theology.
Given his rather conservative theological stance, many of his conclusions about belief are hardly surprising. For Ratzinger, true worship is centered not on the mindless motions of the Church, but in a deep understanding and acting out of God's commandments, and especially, of meaningful sacrifice. The greatest sacrifice, he claims, is logos; he understands
ΜhΑΛ ΟΗΚd ΜΗ ΚefeΚ nΗΜ ΗnlΡ ΜΗ ΑΜΛ lΑΜeΚal ΜΚanΛlaΜΑΗn ( ΟΗΚd ) ΗΚ ΑΜΛ ΜheΗlΗgΑcal use in the
Gospel of John that refers to Jesus as the logos, but also, in the utterance of logos, to pray. For
Ratzinger, the sacrifice of logos conveys both the sacrifice of Jesus the atonement for the sins of humankind and our duty to devote time to prayer, in response to that ultimate sacrifice.
He nΗΜeΛ ΜhaΜ ΛacΚΑfΑce fΗΝnd Αn lΗgΗΛ haΛ an eΙΝΑvalenΜ Αn Μhe ΜeΚm Eucharist, which aside fΚΗm ΑΜΛ lΑΜeΚal meanΑng ( gΗΗd gΑfΜ ) ΗΚ ΑΜΛ ΜheΗlΗgΑcal meanΑng Αn Μhe ChΝΚch aΛ celebΚaΜΑΗn of the sacrifice of Jesus and the consuming of his body and blood, also means a "great thanksgiving." Thus, using these two Greek words, Ratzinger builds up a complex series of symbols and theological connections. The ΛacΚΑfΑce Ηf Μhe Logos," writes Ratzinger, referring
65 to prayer, "becomes a full reality only in the Logos incarnatus, the Word who is made flesh and dΚaΟΛ all fleΛh ΑnΜΗ Μhe glΗΚΑfΑcaΜΑΗn Ηf GΗd. 133 The sacrifice of Jesus GΗd Λ only Son is said to fulfill for all time the Jewish necessity for sacrifice. This is logos united with human life and suffering. Jesus is a new temple not built by man but by God in whom we have meaningful logos sacrifice. But human understanding of this sacrifice is only fully experienced through partaking of the Eucharist, which ΘΗΑnΜΛ ΜΗ Μhe ΝnΑveΚΛal fΗΚm Ηf ΟΗΚΛhΑΘ ΜhaΜ ΜΗΗΓ place in the Incarnation, Cross, and Resurrection of Christ. 134 Sacrifice of logos and
Eucharist completes the cycle of atonement left open in Judaism a fact that should be apparent at every Mass. ChΚΑΛΜΑan lΑΜΝΚgΡ, writes Ratzinger, ΑΛ a lΑΜΝΚgΡ Ηf ΘΚΗmΑΛe fΝlfΑlled, of a quest, the religious quest of human hiΛΜΗΚΡ, ΚeachΑng ΑΜΛ gΗal (37). RaΜΣΑngeΚ Λ ΜΚaΑn Ηf thought can feel, at times, perplexing; he jumps fluidly from one point to the next, sometimes without warning; but with time, his ultimate points are clear, and one recognizes the wealth of ideas Ratzinger has at the ready to complete his discussions.
In regard to the passage above, Ratzinger's purpose is to show an equality between the Catholic liturgy, the actual Body of Christ, and the Word of God. For Ratzinger, (maybe more so than for any other scholar or Pope of the modern era), these three elements were profoundly tied together through the idea of sacrifice. One cannot come to Jesus without the
Church; one cannot come to the Church without the logos. And binding it all together is sacrifice that of the faithful, and of Christ.
RaΜΣΑngeΚ Λ ΑnΜenΛΑΜΡ for this subject transferred to his work as Pope. Benedict is generally considered a "reformer" Pope, a leader who sought spiritual growth and depth
133 Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger, The Spirit of the Liturgy (San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 2000), 35. 134 Ibid., 37. 66 rather than a breadth of believers. Whether he is ultimately celebrated or not depends on
Ηne Λ ΚelaΜΑΗnΛhΑΘ ΜΗ ΜhaΜ ΘΗΑnΜ. AΜ anΡ ΚaΜe, Μhe bΚeadΜh vΛ. deΘΜh ΙΝeΛΜΑΗn ΑΛ Ηne aΛΘecΜ Ηf
BenedΑcΜ Λ ΘaΘacΡ ΜhaΜ cannot be disputed.
What interests me is Ratzinger's discussion of logos in its more literal sense of word, text, recitation. He is clear in his adoration of logos, but I cannot help but bridge this back to a discussion of chant. From its beginnings, to the Solesmes restoration, Pothier and
MΗcΙΝeΚeaΝ Λ aΚgΝmenΜΛ, PΑΝΛ X, VaΜΑcan II, and beΡΗnd, Μhe cenΜΚal fΗcΝΛ Ηf chanΜ haΛ been to illuminate the texts for the day. Through chant, sacred texts and prayers are elevated beyond their spoken types. Gregorian chant is the way that this logos was meant to be expressed.
67
CHAPTER THREE
SOLESMES: CHANT, LITURGY, AND THE CHARISM OF TRADITION
Despite the fact that I had seen Francesco at nearly every Office since his arrival, I was nΗΜ ΛΝΚΘΚΑΛed ΜΗ leaΚn ΜhaΜ he ΟaΛ, aΛ he deΛcΚΑbed, nΗΜ a belΑeveΚ. One Ηf Μhe mΗΛΜ ΚeadΑlΡ accessible parts of monastic ritual is the recitation of the Gloria Patri the two lines of text amended to the end of nearly every Psalm, during which everyone stands to bow during the first line (Gloria Patri et Filio, et Spiritui Sancto), and then straightens for the final line (Sicut erat in principio, et nunc et semper, et in saecula saeculorum, Amen). His behavior, while understated, stuck out: He never stood or bowed, and he rarely followed the chant texts with the books provided at the front door. Instead, Francesco sat alone in his pew, bent over to the point that his face was nearly hidden from view. He occasionally straightened himself out, but his posture never looked casual. Deep as his thoughts appeared to be, he never seemed particularly focused on the religion of the monks.
Francesco was in his mid-forties and, although he was born and raised in Italy, was living in the Netherlands at the time of his visit to Solesmes. Every evening after Compline,
Francesco smoked a small cigar that filled the monastic gardens with smoke for nearly half an hour. His appearance within the walls of the abbatial church, and his generally serious countenance, gave one the impression that he was misanthropic; nothing could have been further from the truth. As soon as I worked up the courage to speak with Francesco, I found
68 him to be especially kind and friendly, and willing to engage in conversation about any number of topics. When I finally had the opportunity to have an extended conversation with
Francesco, I was most interested in why he was there.135
Over the three and a half weeks that I stayed at the Solesmes Abbey, I had the opportunity to speak with numerous guests. Almost all of them expressed themselves using terms learned through their Catholic faith. I spoke with young men who were seeking vocational discernment and older men who were on retreat seeking spiritual renewal. Near the end of my stay, I met an American Franciscan who wanted to learn chant to take back to hΑΛ fΚΑaΚΡ Αn JeΚΝΛalem. Even FΚanceΛcΗ fΑΚΛΜ deΛcΚΑbed hΑmΛelf aΛ a nΗn-belΑeveΚ, a ΜeΚm ΜhaΜ, although expressing a lack of faith, was nonetheless steeped in his Church-based culture.
DeΛΘΑΜe hΑΛ dΑΛbelΑef, ΜhΗΝgh, FΚanceΛcΗ Λ ΒΗΝΚneΡ ΜΗ SΗleΛmeΛ ΟaΛ nΗΜ ΝnlΑΓe Μhe ΗΜheΚΛ: He sought renewal, and Solesmes seemed like the place to achieve that.
It surprised me that a non-religious person would seek out a Benedictine monastery for renewal, since he could have just as easily travelled to any number of secular locations that were equally private. It was even more surprising that Francesco would travel almost eight hours to come to Solesmes specifically when there were plenty of other monasteries closer to hΑΛ hΗme Αn AmΛΜeΚdam. I alΚeadΡ had an eΠΘeΚΑence Αn a mΗnaΛΜeΚΡ Αn Μhe NeΜheΚlandΛ, he
ΜΗld me. I had been baΛΑcallΡ Αn anΗΜheΚ mΗnaΛΜeΚΡ ΜhaΜ ΑΛ ΓΑnd Ηf a branch of this organization, and I was curious to visit the ... headΙΝaΚΜeΚΛ. BΝΜ ΟhΡ Μhe mΗnaΛΜeΚΡ, I aΛΓed?
135 Portions of my interviews have been edited from my original transcriptions to remove speech disfluency, including false starts, fillers, and repaired utterances, and instances in which the speaker made an obvious grammatical error (e.g., verb conjugation, number, etc.). These choices were made for the fluidity of the written ΟΗΚd and ΜΗ helΘ ΚeadeΚΛ beΜΜeΚ ΝndeΚΛΜand Μhe ΛΘeaΓeΚ Λ ΑnΜenΜΑΗnΛ Οhen ΜhΗΛe anΗmalΑes obstructed the ΛΘeaΓeΚ Λ meanΑng. WΑΜhΑn ΜhaΜ edΑΜΗΚΑal fΚameΟΗΚΓ, I made eveΚΡ effΗΚΜ ΜΗ ΚemaΑn ΜΚΝe ΜΗ Μhe ΛΘeaΓeΚ Λ naΜΝΚal speech patterns, and meaning was never intentionally altered. 69
I gΝeΛΛ ΑΜ Λ becaΝΛe eveΚΡ ΡeaΚ I lΑΓe ΜΗ have a bΚeaΓ fΗΚ medΑΜaΜΑΗn, and ΜhΑΛ ΑΛ Μhe ΘeΚfecΜ envΑΚΗnmenΜ. AlΛΗ, I m nΗΜ a belΑeveΚ, bΝΜ ΜhΑΛ ΑΛ a ΘeΚfecΜ envΑΚΗnmenΜ fΗΚ medΑΜaΜΑΗn.
FΚanceΛcΗ ΜΗld me ΜhaΜ he ΜΚΑeΛ ΜΗ ΛΘend Ηne ΟeeΓ a ΡeaΚ gΗΑng Ηn ΚeΜΚeaΜ. MΗΚe Μhan a ΟeeΓ ΑΛ ΘΚΗbablΡ ΜΗΗ mΝch, he ΜΗld me. AfΜeΚ, ΡΗΝ ΒΝΛΜ geΜ ΝΛed ΜΗ Μhe ΚΗΝΜΑne. He had started several successful IT companies in Italy in the 1990s, the pressures of which resulted in
ΟhaΜ he called a menΜal bΚeaΓdΗΟn Αn 2002. He proceeded to sell his companies and move abroad. As he dealt with the stress of giving up his companies, he found that classical music provided a soundscape conducive to relaxation. As a younger person, he had hated classical music; at this turning point in his life, though, it provided a relief from the anxiety he felt. His love of opera lead him to explore other vocal genres, and he eventually found Gregorian chanΜ. FΚanceΛcΗ Λ ΛeaΚch fΗΚ an Αdeal Θlace Ηf medΑΜaΜΑΗn ΟaΛ gΝΑded bΡ consideration for ambience, especially the sounds that he might hear there. At the Solesmes Abbey, Francesco was surrounded by the sounds of chanting nearly six hours a day, and when he was not meditating to the medieval sounds within the church, he was privy to the sounds of the Sarthe
River that runs beside the church, and the relaxing soundscape of the French countryside.
In addition to seeking particular sounds, Francesco also came to the monastery for its particular silences. Silence played a surprisingly large role in the liturgical expressions of the monks a quality that I would later hear was somewhat rare, and that they were particularly good at expressing. The ΚhΡΜhm Ηf Μhe lΑΜΝΚgΡ alΑgned ΟΑΜh FΚanceΛcΗ Λ ΗΟn medΑΜaΜΑve patterns, alternating periods of light focus with periods of empty silence in which he could sink deeper into an ideal meditative state.
But silence took on a much broader sense at Solesmes; while the monks there are by no means bound to silence the way other orders are, they are nonetheless fairly conservative
70 in the noise they make. I witnessed monks in conversation, and I had conversations with several of the brothers there but by and large, chatter is kept to a minimum. More pervasive than this, though, is the type of monastic silence that falls over the Abbey in between the
Hours, and then the so-called GΚeaΜ SΑlence at night after Compline. These ritual silences bracketed the day into discernable parts and created a meta-musical narrative that, after being perceived and lived in, was predictable and stabilizing. The monks at Solesmes, together with the natural environment of the place, were conducive to peacefulness.
And yet the music, silence, and structure of Solesmes could not have been significantly different from the monastery Francesco had visited in the Netherlands. It was different, without a doubt just as all three of the Benedictine monasteries in this study are different but music, silence, and structure are qualities so essential to Benedictine monasticism that they transcend the walls of any particular abbey. They are fundamental to the order as a whole, stemming from BenedΑcΜ Λ Rule. So why was Solesmes so special as to attract Francesco? Why, since I met Francesco on his first visit in 2014, has he gone back to Solesmes three to four times a year? What is it about that place that is so alluring, to believers and non-believers alike? As a musicologist, I had hoped that the answer to this question might be musicological in nature. (Or, at the very least, that I could find a compelling answer that involved music in some way.) In reality, the answer gets to the very heart of our discipline and why we do what we do.
. . .
71
Ora et Labora
A BenedΑcΜΑne Λ lΑfe ΑΛ ΛΜΚΝcΜΝΚed aΚΗΝnd ΜΟΗ principal commandments Ora et Labora, pray and work. Those outside the monastic community may think of these words as representing two very different manners of being. While prayer may be expressed verbally (or orally, as the Latin suggests), it is ultimately about the internal state of the person who prays.
It is action insofar as thinking is active, but this action is directed inward. For contemplative orders especially, prayer is a meditation sometimes in private but often in community that affects oneself as much as it does the outside world. On the other hand, work is externally active and ΛeeΓΛ a change Ηf ΛΗmeΜhΑng ΗΝΜΛΑde ΗneΛelf, bΡ Ηne Λ effΗΚΜ. ThΑΛ can ΜaΓe manΡ dΑffeΚenΜ fΗΚmΛ, bΝΜ Ηne ΚaΚelΡ ΜhΑnΓΛ Ηf ΟΗΚΓ aΛ, ΛaΡ, ΛΑΜΜΑng ΜΗ ΜhΑnΓ abΗΝΜ Μhe meanΑng Ηf scripture.
In the monastery, however, these two terms are not so diametrically opposed. The monks refer to their prayer as the Opus Dei the Work of God. Likewise, their manual labor is understood as an outward form of prayer and worship. These two terms are not synonyms, but upon further inspection, they are not as different as they might first appear. In practice, they reinforce one another and provide stability; for the monk, they create the moral necessity needed ΜΗ maΓe Ηne Λ lΑfe ΟΗΚΜh lΑvΑng and the outward impulse to sustain that inner life. They call to mind in perhaps a slightly more broad sense the well-known passage from
Μhe BΗΗΓ Ηf JameΛ: WhaΜ gΗΗd ΑΛ ΑΜ Αf ΛΗmeΗne ΛaΡΛ he haΛ faΑΜh bΝΜ dΗeΛ nΗΜ have ΟΗΚΓΛ? . . .
FaΑΜh bΡ ΑΜΛelf, Αf ΑΜ dΗeΛ nΗΜ have ΟΗΚΓΛ, ΑΛ dead. 136
136 ESV. James 2: 14, 17. 72
When I asked Phillippe what he considered to be the biggest part of life at Solesmes, he anΛΟeΚed, PΚaΡeΚ, ΘΚaΡeΚ. DefΑnΑΜelΡ ΘΚaΡeΚ. PhΑllΑΘΘe ΑΛ a Commander in the French
Navy and a devout Catholic. He possessed a richness of knowledge about his religion, monasticism, and Solesmes especially. He has been visiting Solesmes twice a year since 1998.
I ΜhΑnΓ ΑΜ Λ gΗΗd ΜΗ cΗme ΜΗ ΚeΜΑΚe fΗΚ a feΟ daΡΛ, he ΜΗld me. In FΚench, Οe ΛaΡ to reload the batteries. I eΠΘlaΑned ΜhaΜ Αn EnglΑΛh, Οe mΑghΜ ΛaΡ ΚechaΚge, bΝΜ ΜhaΜ ΗΜheΚΟΑΛe, hΑΛ image made perfect sense.
I let Phillippe think about his initial answer, and he continued, ImmedΑaΜelΡ afΜeΚ
[prayer] Μhe cΗmmΝnΑΜΡ, Μhe bΚΗΜheΚhΗΗd. . . . TheΡ have chΗΛen Μhe lΑfe, bΝΜ ΜheΡ haven Μ chosen the brothers they have to live with. So prayer and community are the two main aspects of the Benedictine life at Solesmes. And of course, after that, work. Ora et labora. FΗΚ
Phillippe, the commandment to work was less about physical activity than it was about building relationships and offering to people in need:
IΜ dΗeΛn Μ deΘend Ηn Μhe fΚeΙΝencΡ ΡΗΝ cΗme heΚe ΡΗΝ Κe alΟaΡΛ ΚeΛΘecΜed aΛ ΡΗΝ aΚe. SΗ, ΡΗΝ Κe a belΑeveΚ, ΡΗΝ Κe nΗΜ a belΑeveΚ, ΡΗΝ Κe alΟaΡΛ ΚeΛΘecΜed. The mΗnΓΛ are always available, especially at the hôtellerie. If ΡΗΝ ΟanΜ ΜΗ ΛΘeaΓ, Αf ΡΗΝ dΗn Μ ΟanΜ to speak, if you want to share something they are always available. You just have to knock on the door. It is written in the Rule of St. Benedict the guest is received as Christ himself and at Solesmes, ΑΜ ΑΛ ΜΚΝe. YΗΝ Κe alΟaΡΛ ΚeceΑved aΛ Μhe ChΚΑΛΜ hΑmΛelf. YΗΝ ll Λee ΑΜ Μhe fΑΚΛΜ daΡ, aΛ ΡΗΝ aΚΚΑve aΜ lΝnch, Μhe abbé will wash your hands. It is a sign of humility. And you can request a lot, they will give you a lot, spiritually speaking. They can provide you advice, they can provide you books or articles to read, they can teach you a lot in terms of humanity, spirituality, of course Gregorian chant, and so on. Even though sometimes they are not very well because they are sick or they have a lot of things to do, they will always find time for you to speak and to help you if you request it.
PhΑllΑΘΘe Λ dΑΛcΝΛΛΑΗn Ηf ΜhΑΛ ΟΗΚΓ bΚΗΝghΜ ΜΗ mΑnd mΡ fΑΚΛΜ eΠΘeΚΑence Ηf SΗleΛmeΛ charity: I arrived at the monastery wearing the same dingy clothes that I had been wearing for
73 the entirety of my thirty hours of travel. My suitcase containing all my clean clothes had been lost by the airline. Thus, when I attended my first meal the next day, I had to face the abbot wearing these same dirty clothes. Despite my condition, the abbot greeted me warmly, using his limited English to make me feel welcome in his home. He proceeded to take a damp cloth to wash my hands before leading me into the dining room. After lunch, Fr. Michael pulled me aside and led me around the outdoor halls of their cloistered space. Finally, we arrived at what looked like a small clothes shop. He found a pair of pants, some shirts, a
ΛΟeaΜeΚ, a ΘaΑΚ Ηf ΛhΗeΛ, and a ΘaΑΚ Ηf blacΓ ΛΗcΓΛ. TheΛe aΚe Μhe ΛΗcΓΛ Μhe mΗnΓΛ ΟeaΚ, he said, handing the bundle ΜΗ me, bΝΜ I ΜhΑnΓ ΜheΡ ll ΟΗΚΓ fΗΚ ΡΗΝ. I ΜhanΓed Fr. Michael for
Μhe clΗΜheΛ, bΝΜ he dΑveΚΜed Μhe geΛΜΝΚe aΟaΡ fΚΗm hΑmΛelf. We ΟanΜ ΜΗ feed ΡΗΝ becaΝΛe
ΡΗΝ Κe hΝngΚΡ; Οe ΟanΜ ΜΗ ΑnvΑΜe ΡΗΝ Αn becaΝΛe ΡΗΝ need a Θlace ΜΗ ΚeΛΜ; and nΗΟ, Οe can clothe ΡΗΝ becaΝΛe ΡΗΝ need clΗΜheΛ. Fr. MΑchael Λ ΚeΛΘΗnΛe ΘaΚaΘhΚaΛed Μhe ΟΗΚdΛ Ηf JeΛΝΛ aΛ ΜΗld Αn Μhe GΗΛΘel accΗΝnΜΛ, Αn ΟhΑch he ΜellΛ hΑΛ fΗllΗΟeΚΛ ΜhaΜ gΗΗd deedΛ dΗne fΗΚ Μhe leaΛΜ Ηf ΜheΛe aΚe, Αn facΜ, dΗne ΜΗ hΑm. In eΛΛence, I ΟaΛ ΟelcΗmed, aΛ Phillippe had noted, as
Christ himself.
My conversation with Phillippe turned back to prayer ΛΘecΑfΑcallΡ, Μhe lΑfe Ηf
ΘΚaΡeΚ ΜhaΜ he ΟΑΜneΛΛed Αn Μhe mΗnΓΛ aΜ SΗleΛmeΛ. I aΛΓed hΑm Αf he cΗΝld ΛΝmmaΚΑΣe hΗΟ the prayers of the monks affected him:
The prayer in Solesmes, has, I think, two complementary aspects: Silence, . . . and the beauty of the Gregorian chant, [which] gives to the prayer and to the celebration, I maΡ ΛaΡ, a dΑΚecΜ lΑnΓ ΜΗ GΗd. I dΗn Μ ΓnΗΟ Αf ΡΗΝ ve checΓed Μhe bΗΗΓΛ aΜ SΗleΛmeΛ, buΜ ΡΗΝ ve gΗΜ dΑffeΚenΜ ΘΑeceΛ ΟΚΑΜΜen Αn Μhe ninth, tenth, eleventh century very old chanΜ. A lΗΜ Ηf mΗnΓΛ have ΝΛed ΜheΛe ΘΑeceΛ Αn Μhe laΛΜ cenΜΝΚΑeΛ, ΛΗ ΡΗΝ ve gΗΜ a lΗng tradition of prayer at Solesmes, using these chants.
74
His answer points to the fact that prayer can be both an individual experience that is, silently by oneself or a communal one, through chanting. But for Phillippe, musical prayer is an elevaΜed fΗΚm becaΝΛe ΑΜΛ beaΝΜΡ eΛΜablΑΛheΛ ΟhaΜ he callΛ a dΑΚecΜ lΑnΓ ΜΗ GΗd. I neglecΜed ΜΗ press Phillippe on this further, to ask if silent prayer was incapable of establishing a similar connection. Whether he meant this in a literal sense, or simply that each one is special in its own way, remains unclear.
Phillippe placed a great deal of emphasis on the fact that chanted prayer was suitable for all time in the grand sense of the word. In fact, chant is not simply passively adaptive, but actively changing the situations around it.
When ΡΗΝ aΚΚΑve heΚe aΜ SΗleΛmeΛ, ΡΗΝ dΗn Μ want to change the chants, the air, the wording, of the different pieces. You have to accept them, to adopt them, and you have to pray with this chant which is very, very useful to pray. . . . So you have to [put] your imagination, your own will [aside], to enter into this chant. It is the same as Αn ΜhΑΛ cΗmmΝnΑΜΡ. I m nΗΜ ΛΝΚe Μhe mΗnΓ ΟhΗ ΑΛ Αn chaΚge Ηf Μhe laΝndΚΡ, fΗΚ instance, entered into the monastery to do that, but he has to stick to the rules, and obey the orders of the Abbé. And it is the same with the Gregorian chant. You have to adopt it. You have to learn it. And you have to pray with it. And if you do so, you will see that the prayer you have, helped by the Gregorian chant, is easier and easier. This chant, if I may say, opens the door to the eΜeΚnal lΑfe. And fΗΚ me, ΑΜ Λ ΜΚΝe.
The abΑlΑΜΡ Ηf chanΜ ΜΗ ΗΘen Μhe dΗΗΚ ΜΗ eΜeΚnal lΑfe ΟaΛ, Αn PhΑllΑΘΘe Λ mΑnd, dΝe ΜΗ ΑΜΛ ΜeΠΜ.
The fact that it is rooted in scripture is important to him, but the music can illuminate the sacred texts and emphasize ΜheΑΚ ΑmΘΗΚΜance. PhΑllΑΘΘe alΛΗ nΗΜed mΝΛΑc Λ abΑlΑΜΡ ΜΗ hΑghlΑghΜ liturgical seasons eΛΘecΑallΡ LenΜ, ΟhΑch he deΛcΚΑbed aΛ ΛΗΝndΑng veΚΡ ΑnΜenΛe.
Furthermore, chant is memorable; Phillippe noted that he recalls certain chants during the liturgical periods in which they are typically sung. This means that even when Phillippe is away from Solesmes, chant is an essential component of his spiritual life.
75
I was curious as to why Phillippe thought it was important to pray these already- written prayers. What value is there in praying these prayers that were written by other
ΘeΗΘle fΗΚ dΑffeΚenΜ cΑΚcΝmΛΜanceΛ? PhΑllΑΘΘe Λ anΛΟeΚ began ΟΑΜh Μhe nΗΜΑΗn ΜhaΜ GΚegΗΚΑan chanΜ ΑΛ cΗndΝcΑve ΜΗ cΗmmΝnal ΘΚaΡeΚ; ΛΑnce cΗmmΝnΑΜΡ ΟaΛ Ηne Ηf hΑΛ ΘΑllaΚΛ Ηf lΑfe aΜ
Solesmes, this seemed significant. He acknowledged that the monks do take time to pray on their own but insisted on the importance of communal prayer. His final point was historical
Αn naΜΝΚe, ΚeΜΝΚnΑng Ηnce mΗΚe ΜΗ Μhe Αdea Ηf chanΜ Λ ΝΛe ΜhΚΗΝgh ΜΑme:
If people in the ninth century, eleventh century, fifteenth century, seventeenth century, nineteenth century, twentieth century, succeeded with praying with those chants, I can guess the people of the twenty-first and twenty-second and twenty-third centurieΛ ΟΑll ΛΝcceed Αn dΗΑng ΛΗ. TheΚe Λ nΗ need ΜΗ ΑmagΑne neΟ ΛΗngΛ. YΗΝ can dΗ that in the Catholic Church ΜheΚe Λ nΗ problem with that . . . but here in Solesmes, ΜhaΜ Λ nΗΜ Μhe caΛe. When ΡΗΝ cΗme ΜΗ SΗleΛmeΛ, ΑΜ Λ becaΝΛe ΡΗΝ Κe veΚΡ famΑlΑaΚ ΗΚ like the Gregorian chant. And if you like the Gregorian chant, you accept all the repertoire of the Gregorian chant. And you use it.
As we talked, Phillippe noted that Solesmes was convenient enough to be accessible within just a few hours travel but remote enough to maintain a sense of separateness. This was
ΑmΘΗΚΜanΜ fΗΚ PhΑllΑΘΘe, ΛΑnce he gΗeΛ ΜΗ SΗleΛmeΛ ΜΗ ΚelΗad. In FΚance, SΗleΛmeΛ ΑΛ Οell- known because of the Gregorian chant, for instance, and that is important. But it is also well- known because you can reach the abbeΡ veΚΡ eaΛΑlΡ. PhΑllΑΘΘe alΛΗ nΗΜed Μhe ΘhΡΛΑcal and spiritual accessibility of Solesmes:
EveΚΡΜhΑng ΜhaΜ ΑΛ ΘΚacΜΑced heΚe ΑΛ nΗΜ veΚΡ haΚd ΜΗ dΗ. YΗΝ dΗn Μ have eΠΜΚaΗΚdΑnaΚΡ things performed here. You just have normal things. But all these small things . . . are well described in the Rule, and you have to do them at the right time . . . in this silent Θlace. SΗ ΑΜ Λ ΓΑnd Ηf an ΗaΛΑΛ Αn Μhe ΟΗΚld ΜhaΜ can be Κeached veΚΡ eaΛΑlΡ. IΜ Λ nΗΜ, fΗΚ instance, St. Catherine Monastery in the Sinai, far away from everything. . . . You just bΝΡ a ΜΚaΑn ΜΑcΓeΜ, and ΡΗΝ Κe heΚe two hours, one hour and a half later.
76
I noted that it was these same qualities that brought visitors from all walks of life to Solesmes; having already spoken with Francesco and learned about his disbelief in Christianity, I was curious how Phillippe thought of those who came to the monastery seeking a secular type of
ΚelΗad. The SΗleΛmeΛ cΗmmΝnΑΜΡ ΑΛ heΚe ΜΗ ΘΚaΡ fΗΚ eveΚΡbΗdΡ, he ΜΗld me. WheΜheΚ
Christian or non-Christian, believer or non-believer monks pray for everybody. . . . The mΗnΓΛ dΗn Μ aΛΓ anΡΜhΑng [Ηf] Μhem, eΠceΘΜ ΚeΛΘecΜΑng Μhe ΛΑlence and ΛΗme elemenΜaΚΡ ΚΝleΛ.
As he dreΟ hΑΛ ΘΗΑnΜ ΜΗ a clΗΛe, he ΚeΑΜeΚaΜed hΑΛ ΘΗΑnΜΛ ΘaΛΛΑΗnaΜelΡ: The cΗmmΝnΑΜΡ ΑΛ nΗΜ focused just on Catholic believers Μhe cΗmmΝnΑΜΡ ΘΚaΡΛ fΗΚ all hΝman beΑngΛ.
The Communal Prayer of Breaking Bread
Near the end of Sext, a door opens in the middle of the nave of the church. The door might go unnoticed, but through it are the outdoor courtyards of cloistered Solesmes. Father
Guestmaster steps through the door and holds it open as a group of men walk outside along the covered path.
The journey to the dining hall is exciting for guests, if only because we get to see a part of the monastery that passers-through do not. There is a spirit of gratitude and awe as we make our way past statues and other art, on the way to lunch. Those who are new to the abbey are taken aside to be greeted by the abbot, who takes a moment to wash their hands.
The gesture is more symbolic than functional. It is a reminder of baptism of the washing away of sin, the cleansing of the soul. Equally present in my mind are the images of washing as told in the Gospel accounts the woman who washed the feet of Jesus, and then the parallel
ΛΜΗΚΡ Αn JΗhn Λ GΗΛΘel that describes Jesus washing the feet of his disciples before their last 77 meal together. I wonder if I am supposed to be the Christ or the disciple in this scenario; the beauty of symbol is that I am both simultaneously. Similarly, the gesture creates a similar dichotomy for the abbot; in washing his guests, he shows both that he is the head of the abbey, and its lowliest member.
We walk around another courtyard and finally through a door into a large rectangular dining hall. Tables line the long sides of the room while the shorter sides are bordered by a fireplace on one end and the abbΗΜ Λ table on the other. In the middle of the room are tables running parallel to those on the sides. The guests make their way to the middle table closest to the abbot. At each place setting is a cloth napkin in a round napkin holder. Tucked inside the holder is a piece of paper with the name of each guest. Those who are new sit at one end of the table, and they write their names on slips of paper that will designate their place for the duration of their stay. We stand at our seats as the monks make their way to theirs.
Once everyone is in, the room grows quiet with anticipation. The abbot lifts the handle from a small gavel at his side and lets it strike the table. At this sound, the monks bend over to pray. During dinners, prayer cards are placed at the seats of the guests so that we can follow along with the pre-dinner ritual. After the prayer, the entire company sits down. At each of the tables are the accoutrements of a French meal oil, vinegar, salt, pepper, sliced
French bread, bottles of wine, carafes of water. We sit, and one of us takes up the bottle, offering it to each of those around him.
As we settle in, one of the brothers turns on a small speaker system that is set up around the room. He sits not at a table, but at a lectern in the middle of one of the long sides.
He proceeds to intone a number of religious texts in French; these vary from stories about the saints to the biography of St. Benedict to recent news from the Vatican. This reading
78 continues for the duration of the meal. A few of the younger brothers wheel out carts filled with food. A typical lunch might consist of a small salad, followed by a main course and a side, and then a small dessert of a piece of fruit, or yogurt with sugar. Typical dinners are similar, except preceded by soup. Feast days are more elaborate, usually with a bit more meat and a special dessert. July 11, the Feast of St. Benedict, is notable for the strawberry tarts we are given from the bakery across the street. Likewise, Saturday dinners are special because we are served a tray of cheeses and dark chocolate after the main course.
As we did with the wine, one of us takes the food in front of us and fills the dishes of those around us before filling his own. This gesture while polite in itself is done with such regularity and insistence that it transcends etiquette and seems more like the giving of gifts.
The guests challenge one another to serve, to be the last to partake, and those who are served respond by abstaining from eating until everyone at the table has a portion for himself. I wonder how or when this tradition began; as I learn the routine, I too attempt to serve the others in this way. Taking our cues from the behavior of the monks, we speak no words to one another throughout this whole process. Instead, our communication is based on hand gestures, smiles, and mouthed mercis. As we finish one course, the monks bring out the second. When we are finished with that, they bring out dessert. The servers are efficient, and we are encouraged to be the same.
Despite the restraint they exhibit in almost every area of their life, the monks are surprisingly quick eaters. There is no conversation, but the dining hall has its own distinct soundscape, filled with the recitation of the cantor and the loud and fast clanging of silverware on ceramic. Eating is the one thing the monks do with more haste than I would like; I want to sit, to enjoy the food, the wine, the company, but instead, everyone rushes to finish. Their
79 quickness is surprising, but they recite the office of None immediately after lunch, and then there is more work after that. I got the impression that they had no desire to prolong the leisurely and pleasurable affair of eating delicious food, knowing that it takes time away from more pressing matters.
This is not to say that the monks ignore their food. Everyone I spoke with monks and visitors alike seemed generally pleased with the quality of the meals at Solesmes. I cannot imagine that they would bother with a luxury like taste if it were not important to them.
Simple nourishment would be much easier, quicker, and cheaper. In fact, I was told later that the monks themselves no longer cooked their own meals they hired cooks to come in and do the task for them so they could focus on other things. These signs point to a fundamental truth: meals are important not just for sustenance, but also for enjoyment as short-lived as it may be.
The monks at Solesmes do not abstain from all worldly pleasures, a fact that was never clearer to me than at these meals. It is easy to justify the beauty of their music, their church, their art, or even their labor as simply giving back to God the goodness that they feel He has bestowed upon them. But meals, no matter the belief of the eater, are a human affair; all meals can nourish the body with the components essential to regular operation, but a good meal satisfies a longing for beauty as any other work of art might.
A good meal unites us, a fact that makes the affair seem like an especially human endeavor. We sit in a room together, at tables with one another, and we share the very substance that gives us life both literally and figuratively. No matter our backgrounds, we are bound to one another through the sharing of our food and our time, and eating as one.
80
Meals at Solesmes were never grandiose or flamboyant, as one might find in any number of Parisian restaurants just a short train ride away. But meals at Solesmes, like all other aspects of life there, are full of small delights that encourage the appreciation of the minuteness of life.
Gregorian Chant: The Musical Legacy of Solesmes
My conversations with people at Solesmes inevitably took a turn towards discussions about Gregorian chant. Everyone I spoke with knew that I was a musicologist studying this community and its musical lifestyle, so perhaps they were swayed by that knowledge to talk about areas they might not have otherwise thought about. While my questions eventually led to the topic of the music at Solesmes, it seemed very likely that any conversation I would have had with anyone might have taken a similar turn were I not particularly interested in chant.
As important as I knew music to be in the monastery, it was shocking just how much time the monks spent together in their work a decidedly musical affair. Music structured every part of monastic life at Solesmes, whether it was directly, as in the communal prayer of the
Office, or indirectly, as when the bells rang, indicating to the monks that it was time to gather once more.
While the experiences of the monks piqued my interest, I was curious to hear in what way(s) the music had an impact on the visitors to Solesmes. It was very clear that music was at the core of monastic life, but I wondered if the guests of the monastery were also moved by the music. Did this music have a spiritual impact on them, and if so, why did it have this effect? Did the use of Latin affect their enjoyment of the chant, either for good or bad?
81
When I began questioning these men about the chant, I always began specifically with questions about Latin, how much they understood, and whether or not Latin was important to them. I asked Phillippe, who had been at Solesmes twice a year for the past seventeen years, whether this place would have the same appeal to him if Μhe chanΜΛ ΟeΚe ΛΝng Αn FΚench. I dΗn Μ ΓnΗΟ. If Μhe lΑΜΝΚgΡ ΟΗΝld be Αn FΚench, I dΗn Μ ΓnΗΟ. I dΗn Μ ΓnΗΟ. HΑΛ ΛΘeech dΚΑfΜed Ηff aΛ he cΗnΜemΘlaΜed Μhe nΗΜΑΗn. I cannΗΜ ΛaΡ ΑΜ Λ mandaΜΗΚΡ, he ΛaΑd, bΝΜ ΑΜ Λ something very important. . . . You feel here a long monastical tradition when you use the
GΚegΗΚΑan chanΜ, and ΜheΚe Λ ΛΗmeΜhΑng veΚΡ ΑmΘΗΚΜanΜ fΗΚ me. I mΑghΜ nΗΜ have ΚemaΑned Αn
SΗleΛmeΛ Αf Μhe GΚegΗΚΑan chanΜ ΟaΛ nΗΜ ΝΛed heΚe.
PhΑllΑΘΘe Λ ΚeΛΘΗnΛe ΟaΛ ΛΝΚΘΚΑΛΑng ΜΗ me; mΑnΝΜeΛ befΗΚe, he had explained all the reasons why Solesmes was important to him, but this a changing of language, from a foreign language to his own native tongue might drive him away. He insinuated that changing the language of the chant would fundamentally change the monastic tradition at Solesmes, and I asked him why connecting to the past was so important for him. He was quick to correct me.
I dΗn Μ ΜhΑnΓ ΑΜ Λ a cΗnnecΜΑΗn ΜΗ Μhe past, he ΛaΑd, ΑΜ Λ a cΗnnecΜΑΗn ΜΗ tradition. MΡ question was poorly worded, but my carelessness prompted an impassioned response that encaΘΛΝlaΜed PhΑllΑΘΘe Λ eΠΘeΚΑence aΜ SΗleΛmeΛ:
A ΜΚadΑΜΑΗn ΑΛ ΛΗmeΜhΑng ΜhaΜ Λ lΑvΑng. IΜ Λ alΑve. If ΑΜ Λ nΗΜ alΑve, ΑΜ Λ nΗΜ ΜΚadΑΜΑΗn anΡ mΗΚe. SΗ Οe Κe nΗΜ cΗnnecΜed ΜΗ Μhe ΘaΛΜ, Οe Κe cΗnnecΜed ΜΗ ΜΚadΑΜΑΗn a tradition ΜhaΜ ΟΑll gΗ Ηn ΑnΜΗ Μhe fΝΜΝΚe. SΗ ΡΗΝ ve gΗΜ cΗnΜΑnΝΑΜΡ, ΛΗmeΜhΑng cΗnΜΑnΝΗΝΛ. ThaΜ is what is important ΡΗΝ Κe nΗΜ cΗnnecΜed ΜΗ Μhe ΘaΛΜ, ΡΗΝ have ΜΗ be cΗnnecΜed ΜΗ a living tradition. And this living tradition has roots in the past, flourishes today, and will have fruit in the future. We can say it like that. But keep aware in your mind that [ΟhΑle] Οe aΚe heΚe cΗnnecΜed ΜΗ Μhe ΘaΛΜ, [ΑΜ Λ nΗΜ lΑΓe] ΛΗmeΗne ΟhΗ ΑΛ lΗΗΓΑng backwards, thinking ΜhaΜ eveΚΡΜhΑng ΟaΛ mΝch beΜΜeΚ befΗΚe. . . . YΗΝ ve gΗΜ a lΗΜ Ηf things wonderful today, and you will have lots of things wonderful tomorrow. The point is to connect lots of different times the past, present, and future and to
82
connect them, you have to know where you come from, where you go, and where you are. And that is the aim of a tradition.
Talking with Phillippe, it became apparent that the facts (if such things exist) of my question mattered very little. If the language of chant were changed from Latin to French, would it be so fundamentally changed from its roots as not to be recognizable as part of its long tradition?
The answer is not concrete or something that can be determined through musical analysis.
Instead, the answer is in the experiences of people who participate and are the recipients of the tradition. While the people with whom I spoke at Solesmes all agreed that Latin was an important component of the musical tradition there, it is certainly within reason that within the habitus of the monastery, contrary opinions exist.
PhΑllΑΘΘe Λ anΛΟeΚ alΛΗ illustrated the living quality of chant. It stems from the past and is actively connecting to people in the present. This description of chant puts it firmly within
TΑm IngΗld Λ ΜheΗΚΡ Ηf meΛhwork, in which people and things connect by way of their meΜaΘhΗΚΑcal lΑneΛ ΜhaΜ cΚΗΛΛ ΟΑΜh Ηne anΗΜheΚ and ΓnΗΜ. AΛ a lΑved ΜΚadΑΜΑΗn, Μhe chanΜ ΑΛ not only knotting its current practitioners together, but it is knotting them to the past, and extending out into the future.
Francesco, the self-proclaimed non-believer, took a different approach when I asked hΑm abΗΝΜ Μhe ΝΛe Ηf LaΜΑn Αn chanΜ. WΗΝld ΜheΡ [Μhe chanΜΛ] be leΛΛ aΜΜΚacΜΑve [Αn a langΝage
ΗΜheΚ Μhan LaΜΑn]? PΚΗbablΡ, ΡeΛ. FΚanceΛcΗ acΓnΗΟledged ΜhaΜ Μhe chanΜ ΟaΛ part of a tradition which, despite his contrary beliefs, actually helped him to meditate. However, as someone who approaches this music as a means to meditation rather than to deepen a specific faith, Francesco was as concerned with aesthetics as he was with tradition.
83
I do think that the beauty of the Gregorian chant is because they are sung in Latin. And ΜheΚe Λ ΜhΑΛ feelΑng aΚΗΝnd LaΜΑn, ΑΜ Λ lΑΓe, Οhen ΡΗΝ heaΚ ΛΗmeΗne ΛΘeaΓΑng French I lΗve FΚench, I lΗve FΚench ΘeΗΘle. [BΝΜ] I m lΑvΑng Αn Μhe NeΜherlands, and I ve ΜΚΑed ΜΗ ΛΜΝdΡ [DΝΜch] ΜΟΑce, and I ΒΝΛΜ haΜe DΝΜch. WhΡ? BecaΝΛe Ηf Μhe ΟaΡ ΑΜ sounds. You just love it or you hate it. If Gregorian chant was sung in Dutch, I probably would hate it.
While Francesco had assimilated the chant into his own regimen by detaching it from much of its context, other parts of its performance were essential to his enjoyment.
Specifically, I asked him what role the environment played in his enjoyment of the chant.
YΗΝ Κe ΚefeΚΚΑng ΜΗ Μhe facΜ ΜhaΜ ΜhΑΛ ΑΛ ΘeΚfΗΚmed lΑve, ΚΑghΜ? he aΛΓed me. YeΛ, I ΜΗld hΑm, but also how the performance space influences him.
I actually have a Gregorian chant CD in my car, and like any musical performance, ΡΗΝ can enΒΗΡ ΑΜ… bΝΜ lΑve ΑΛ a dΑffeΚenΜ ΛΜΗΚΡ. EveΚΡ ΜΑme I ΟaΜch ΗΘeΚa lΑve, I m ΚeallΡ blown away, because you can see them use their voice at that level. And when I see someone play an instrument, you can see ThΑΛ ΑΛ a ΘeΚΛΗn acΜΝallΡ playing this ΑnΛΜΚΝmenΜ. The vΗΑce ΑΛ nΗΜ ΒΝΛΜ a beaΝΜΑfΝl ΛΗΝnd ΜhaΜ ΡΗΝ can ΘlaΡ Αn a recorder. So does it add some value, seeing live performers? Yes, a lot. Does the environment help with meditation? Yes, a lot. I remember talking with my mother, I think, and I said I like to be in the church, to do my meditation there. And then she commenΜed, Well, ΡΗΝ can dΗ ΡΗΝ medΑΜaΜΑΗn anΡΟheΚe. TechnΑcallΡ, ΡeΛ, ΡΗΝ can. UnΜΑl ΡΗΝ aΚe distracted by so many different things … ΜhaΜ Λ veΚΡ dΑffΑcΝlΜ. BΝΜ Αn Μhe chΝΚch, ΡΗΝ have this environment that was built for the sake of creating a spiritual moment, for praying. And the architects, the artists that put their effort there, they did it for that purpose. And it shows!
Notable in this statement is the fact that not only does the music transcend its original context for Francesco, but so, too, does the space itself. The abbey church is quite explicit in its
Christian and Catholic iconography, but rather than dissuading his secular meditation, it reinforces it. He separates the essence of the spiritual from its specific context and finds elements of truth in which he can believe. The elements specific to the Catholic faith are, for
FΚanceΛcΗ, ΛΑmΘlΡ Ηne manΑfeΛΜaΜΑΗn Ηf a mΗΚe ΜΚΝe ΝnΑveΚΛal ΛΘΑΚΑΜΝalΑΜΡ.
84
AΜ Μhe Λame ΜΑme, ΜhΑΛ CaΜhΗlΑc ΛΘace hΗldΛ ΛΘecΑal valΝe ΜΗ ΜhΗΛe ΟhΗ ΝndeΚΛΜand the details and the finer points that they make. I was speaking with Joseph, a young French man who was at Solesmes for a week to seek his vocation, when he noted that there was
ΛΗmeΜhΑng ΜΚΝe Αn Μhe chanΜ. I aΛΓed hΑm ΜΗ elabΗΚaΜe, ΛΘecΑfΑcallΡ Ηn Μhe Αdea Ηf ΜΚuth in group prayer.
FΗΚ a BenedΑcΜΑne mΗnΓ Λ vΗcaΜΑΗn, GΚegΗΚΑan chanΜ ΑΛ lΑΓe a call. . . . TheΚe ΑΛ ΛΗme grace of unity, grace of harmony, because at that moment [that they chant] they are trying to have good balance in their [lives], as men, and they are elevating their soul[s] and hearts through what they are doing. But you have to fight against your nature, by reason and by work. The Paradise is where everything will be united; here it is not the case.
My discussions with Joseph could be frustrating and jump wildly from point to point a fact
ΜhaΜ ΟaΛ accenΜed bΡ ΗΝΚ langΝage baΚΚΑeΚ. NΗneΜheleΛΛ, ΟΑΜh ΛΗme eΠΘlanaΜΑΗn, JΗΛeΘh Λ statement says a lot, not only about his interpretation, but about the practice of chant.
First, Joseph notes that chanting is a calling for Benedictines a fact that was especially important since he was in the midst of seeking his own vocation. What Joseph found to be
ΜΚΝe ΗΚ beaΝΜΑfΝl abΗΝΜ chant was not an inherent aesthetic value, but the fact that it was an manifestation of fulfilled purpose. JΗΛeΘh Λ ΛecΗnd maΑn ΘΗΑnΜ ΑΛ Μhat men (or, perhaps all of humanΓΑnd) aΚe nΗΜ naΜΝΚallΡ ΑnclΑned ΜΗ ΟΗΚΓ ΜΗgeΜheΚ. JΗΛeΘh Λ ΗΟn ΛΘΑΚΑΜΝal belΑefΛ ΟeΚe extremely conservative and traditional, so I am led to believe that when he ΛaΡΛ naΜΝΚe,
ΟhaΜ he meanΛ ΑΛ hΝmanΑΜΡ aΛ ΑΜ fell fΚΗm GΗd Λ EdenΑc Αdeal. In ΜhaΜ Αdeal ΛΜaΜe, ΑΜ ΟaΛ perhaps within our nature to work together but through the Fall, we are instead inclined to rebel against one another. Chanting, then, is a deliberate move to put our fallen nature aside and unite with others.
85
This is an interesting interpretation for a few reasons: First, it shows the high place of art and music in Catholic belief. The struggle against human nature turns one away from individual pursuit and toward the creation of beautiful yet ephemeral music. The second reason this is remarkable is that Joseph implies that through the act of singing monks can actuallΡ ΜΚanΛfΗΚm ΜhemΛelveΛ fΚΗm fallen man ΑnΜΗ EdenΑc man. TheΡ elevaΜe ΜheΑΚ ΛΗΝlΛ
. . . bΡ ΟhaΜ ΜheΡ aΚe dΗΑng.
BΝΜ, Αn hΑΛ ΑnΜeΚΘΚeΜaΜΑΗn, ΜΚΝe and laΛΜΑng ΝnΑΜΡ belΗngΛ ΛΗlelΡ ΜΗ Μhe PaΚadΑΛe not to earth or earthly creatures. But from some of my experiences at Solesmes, I was interested in hearing if Joseph thought the monks were attempting to create a heavenly realm on earth.
SΝΚe, he ΛaΑd, bΝΜ I ΜhΑnΓ ΑΜ Λ abΛΗlΝΜelΡ nΗΜ ΘΗΛΛΑble ΜΗ dΗ ΜhaΜ cΗnΜΑnΝΗΝΛlΡ.
Vigils, Angels, and the Fear of God
When Dom Guéranger set about reviving the Gregorian repertoire, he also sought to make the abbatial church an ideal place for its performance. Those changes, begun in 1863 to the old Solesmes priory, added a choir area for the monks that extended the church by a little over fifty percent its original length. While this addition certainly changed the physical layout of the church, it also transformed the space from one of mere mortal performance into
ΛΗmeΜhΑng mΗΚe alΗng Μhe lΑneΛ Ηf DΗm GΝéΚangeΚ Λ dΚeam fΗΚ SΗleΛmeΛ aΛ a ΛΗcΑeΜΡ Ηf dΑvΑne ΘΚaΑΛe. 137 Guéranger recognized the importance of the Divine Office toward this pursuit and sought to make the Opus Dei the defining characteristic of the Solesmes monks.
137 Dom Prosper Guéranger, The Church: Or, the Society of Divine Praise, edited and translated anonymously by “A Secular Priest” (London: Burns & Oates, Limited, 1892). 86
One might imagine watching the monks in the old church, sitting in the far eastern end of the nave in view of anyone who happened to be in the church at that time (Fig. 3.1). Dom
GΝéΚangeΚ Λ addΑΜΑΗn alΜeΚed this plan significantly.
After 1863, the choir became the single largest section of the church (Fig. 3.2). It cΗnnecΜΛ dΑΚecΜlΡ ΜΗ an ΗΝΜdΗΗΚ ΟalΓΟaΡ ΜhaΜ leadΛ ΜΗ Μhe mΗnΓΛ lΗdgΑng ΙΝaΚΜeΚΛ. HΑgh Ηn the eastern wall of the choir hangs a crucifix, below which is the altar. On each side of the choir are large wooden benches. The monks enter into the sanctuary in pairs from the south, turn to face the crucifix, genuflect (if able), and then split from one another each taking his aΛΛΑgned ΛeaΜ Ηn eΑΜheΚ ΛΑde Ηf Μhe chΗΑΚ. FΗΝΚ ΘΑllaΚΛ Ηn each ΛΑde ΛeΘaΚaΜe Μhe mΗnΓΛ bencheΛ from the rest of the sanctuary.
Fig. 3.1, Original floorplan of the Solesmes church
Fig. 3.2, 1863 addition
The space immediately west of the choir area where the top of the nave had been prior to the renovation of 1863 houses the small benches, reserved for guests of the monks.
87
These are separated from the choir area by two small steps and from the rest of the nave by another short metal rail. Behind these small benches is the nave, the long area of the church filled with wooden pews where the rest of the congregants sit. On both sides of the nave are five small chapels, and there are two larger chapels at the north and south poles of the transept. These chapels give monks and visitors isolated and quiet places for prayer, meditation, and reflection.
At 5:30 every morning (and at 5:15 or earlier on Sundays), the Solesmes monks gather to recite the office of Vigils the longest office of the day which lasts about an hour on normal days and longer on feast days and Sundays. On my first full day at Solesmes, I made a point to wake for Vigils, but by the time I actually made it to the front door, it was already
5:33. I suspected the monks would have already begun, so I cracked open the large wooden door, and crept inside.
The back of the church was completely dark. A small, motion-sensitive work light clicked on when I found my way to the back pew. Far ahead of me, at the opposite end of the church, a few lights illuminated the crucifix. I thought for a moment that I had made a mistake. But as I settled myself and stopped moving, I realized I could hear the sound of singing. Its source was mysterious to me, but it seemed to be coming from ahead of me. And yet, the only earthly figure I could see in front of me was the Corpse of Christ.
I sat for a moment, in wonder and amazement. What type of trick was I being subjected to? Were the monks underground? Was I listening to a recording? Or was I bearing witness, on my first day of fieldwork, to some inexplicable miracle unfit for a musical ethnography? Realistically, I knew that there must be a logical explanation for my experience.
In the moment, though, when one encounters an unidentifiable noise coming from an obscure
88 point in a space known for its spirituality, it is only natural to be struck with some amount of
ΟΗndeΚ. IΛ ΜhΑΛ Μhe ΜΡΘe Ηf hΗlΡ feaΚ ΜhaΜ ΘeΗΘle aΚe ΛaΑd ΜΗ have Οhen ΜheΡ encΗΝnΜeΚ an otherworldly being? I ΟΗndeΚed.
This mystery continued for several minutes until, at a pause in the chant, one of the younger monks appeared from the right side of choir, genuflected before the Crucifix, and proceeded to a small lectern from where he read a passage. Afterward, he performed the same mini-ritual as he made his way back to the right side of the choir. This explained what I had first observed. The narrowness of the nave, and the placement of the choir benches on the other side of the pillars, obscured the monks from view especially from my vantage point at the back of the church. Even as one sits closer, the monks are still hidden by the large pillars that border their benches.
The architecture of the church also aids in the aural phenomenon I experienced wherein it was impossible to tell exactly where the sound came from. Any sound made from the front, no matter its point of origin, came down the center of the nave without discretion.
Despite the fact that the monks sit on both sides of the choir, there is absolutely no sense of a stereophonic sound; instead, their voices were united through their acoustical space. Weeks later, one of the monks came down the nave, grabbed my prayer book, my field journal, and my recorder, and insisted that I sit in the very front row of the small benches reserved for the guests of the monks. Until this point, I had kept my distance in respect for the solemnity of this particular service. I was typically alone in my desire to wake up at 5:30, and I suspected that it was a bit unusual for anyone to attend this service so regularly. I hoped not to give the wrong impression or to startle anyone through my strange presence. Nonetheless, until I was taken to the front row, I had not observed first-hand the monks doing their work. What I saw
89 from this new position was very different from what I heard: rather than all the monks singing in unison as I suspected, the two sides sing antiphonally, joining together only during antiphons, the Gloria Patri, and hymns. Even from the front row, though, my ears deceived my eyes as the sound still seemed to come from straight in front and from above. The architecture of the church that is, its material in the Vasquezian sense both enables and represents communitas by blending the separate voices into one.
The space here provides a stark visual frame, but it also creates a powerful spiritual statement. Benedictine monks devote themselves completely to living out the Christian message of salvation on earth, and thus they make every attempt to turn focus away from themselves and toward God. They are known for their modesty and humility. Due to their numerous recordings and their historical place in the world of Gregorian chant, the monks at
Solesmes are relatively well known. Visitors come from all over the world to hear the monks perform. Yet from the beginning of the day, they direct attention away from themselves through the use of their space. Dom Guéranger could have built onto the church in such a way as to showcase the monks from all points, as would have been the custom in its original space. Instead, the monks remain seated out of the view of everyone except their invited guests.
There is nothing about Vigils that is particularly musically interesting. The bulk of the service is made up of the chanting of twelve (usually lengthy) psalms, with hymns and readings at the middle and end. Aside from the melodious hymns, everything else is recited on a single pitch with little or no variation. This bare recitation with no show, and virtually no audience is more than simply a way for the monks to ease their voices from their slumber; it
90 emphasizes their impoverished spiritual state as they strive to make themselves nothing before
God. In essence, it sets the tone for their entire day.
On its own, the sound of the human voice evokes the human form from which it came. Thanks to the construction of this church, however, the producers of the chanted sounds are from almost all vantage points completely absent. The voice of the choir is disembodied, and visitors are left to imagine the place from where these sounds originate.
Certainly, this phenomenon stems from a place of humility; the monks wish not to draw attention to themselves, but rather to direct focus onto God. But the specifics of their execution are a type of spiritual theater, with an impressive and elaborate set, props, masterful blocking, and music and text inspired by God.
In this space, the specific make-up of the choir is ambiguous; in fact, visitors never know for sure who makes the sounds until they are invited to the front by the makers themselves. Instead, one might imagine based on all the other context clues that the voices one hears are those of heavenly beings, invisible to the eye but nonetheless present. After all, they do not sing the words of humans, but of God; they do not sing the music of humans, but of God; they do not perform the Work of men, but of God. Through their chanting, monks go on a mystical pilgrimage that takes them from the confines of their church into a liminal state that eventually leads into the heavenly realm. Like the exteriorized pilgrimages that
Edith and Victor Turner wrote about, the Solesmes monks create communitas through their journey.138
138 Victor Turner and Edith Turner, Image and Pilgrimage in Christian Culture (New York: Columbia University Press, 1978), 7. 91
Reinforcing this interpretation is the patron saint of the abbey itself Saint Peter the guardian of the Gate of Heaven, whose statue (with keys in hand; fig. 3.3) greets all visitors with the Greek inscription:
Ε Ε Ε Contemplate the God who is Word Χ Ω Ε the rock Ε Ε divinely cut in gold. Ε Ω Placed upon it, I am unshakable.139 ΄ ΄ If this statue were placed in a museum, it would be simply a work of spiritual art; when surrounded by the music of the heavens, though, it takes on a whole new meaning. We are asked to contemplate God as Word, as the Word is actively created by the unseen choir.
Looking forward through the church, this Word seems to emanate from the very front, where the eye is drawn to the λ γος (logos) himself, on the cross. Through the chanting of the
Psalms, the Abbey of St. όPeter is transformed from an earthly monastery into the very heavenly realm that Peter is said to guard, complete with the sights and sounds that one might imagine from such a place. By singing the words of God, they take on the characteristics of
God the Creator; bΡ ΑnfΝΛΑng ΜheΑΚ bΚeaΜh ΟΑΜh GΗd Λ ΛΗng, ΜheΡ fill the space with the Holy
Spirit; and in the literal Words they sing, and in the physical presence of λ γος at the altar, is
Christ. Chanting is an affirmation and a re-creation of the tripartite Godhead.ό
139 Translation of the Solesmes monks, found at http://www.solesmes.com/abbey-church. 92
Fig. 3.3, Statue of St. Peter inside the Solesmes abbatial church. Photograph by Author.
Liturgy: The Heart of Solesmes
I confess that before I began my fieldwork at Solesmes, I believed the liturgy or Opus
Dei ΜΗ be ΛΑmΘlΡ a gΝΑde fΗΚ Μhe ΗΚganΑΣaΜΑΗn Ηf ΟΗΚΛhΑΘ. I ΝndeΚΛΜΗΗd ΜhaΜ lΑΜΝΚgΡ encapsulated the prayer itself, but before I experienced it first-hand, this was an abstract and incomplete understanding of the term. In actuality, the liturgy is more nuanced than a structural framework for worship and more personal than simply a prescribed set of texts.
The Opus Dei is lived, its vitality found in its performance. In adding this human element to the liturgy, it becomes an individualized expression subject to the choices of the performers themselves.
93
The use of the term performer is my choice. The Opus Dei is the work carried out by the monastic brotherhood; it is also a deliberate and careful presentation to God, themselves, and any members of the public who happen to be in attendance, of the beauty of their faith.
Saying that this work is performed is, I think, the most accurate way of depicting the liturgical expression. On the other hand, the monks themselves, and even the religious guests I spoke with, were reluctant to call the liturgy a performance, perhaps because this term in its casual context refers to a charade, a drama, or a concert, and the monks themselves do not think of what they do as having much in common with any of those pursuits. When I posed this terminology to Fr. Michael, he said that performance gives the impression of a concert, which is not how the Solesmes monks interpret it. He took a moment to translate from his French
ΝndeΚΛΜandΑng. We ΟΗΝld call ΑΜ work, he ΛaΑd fΑnallΡ. In LaΜΑn, SΜ. BenedΑcΜ callΛ ΑΜ Μhe
Opus Dei. . . . IΜ Λ ΡΗΝΚ ΟΗΚΓ. IΜ Λ ΡΗΝΚ ΒΗb, ΜΗ ΘΝΜ ΑΜ ΜhaΜ ΟaΡ.
While I do not presume to know better than any of the people I spoke with especially those who actually live this tradition the English word ΟΗΚΓ ΑΛ not quite adequate in describing the Opus Dei a fact I came to realize as I spoke with the monks. In the
United States, for example, this term tends to be associated with a type of dreaded obligation; for monks, though, this is less an obligation as it is a vocation a calling. WhΑle a mΗnΓ Λ
ΟΗΚΓ maΡ ΛΗmeΜΑmeΛ caΚΚΡ ΟΑΜh ΑΜ a ΛenΛe Ηf effΗΚΜ ΗΚ ΛΜΚΝggle, the monks I spoke with felt an overwhelming sense of joy and peacefulness from the liturgy; it is structural and provides stability; it allows genuine human expression and artfulness; it requires mindfulness in order to be meaningful.
ThΑΛ ΜeΚm ΑΛ fΝΚΜheΚ dΑffeΚenΜΑaΜed fΚΗm ΗΝΚ nΗΜΑΗn Ηf ΟΗΚΓ becaΝΛe opus, a noun, implies a work that is already completed rather than a task to be done. In essence, ΗΘΝΛ
94 refers to the work that God already has finished. Through chanting, however, monks take part in and re-create that work; by means of their performance, the Opus Dei is manifest on earth. Thus, they not only perform a musical work, but they also integrate themselves into the very essence of God the Creator.
The monks at Solesmes have inherited a legacy of liturgical practice stemming from
Abbot Dom Guéranger who sought, among his many tasks, to specialize in the liturgy of the
Catholic Church. Brothers today are not only aware of this legacy but actively work to make the liturgy accessible and meaningful. Their dedication and exactitude in performance was not lost on the visitors with whom I spoke.
Phillippe explained that one of the reasons he felt so at home at Solesmes was because
Ηf Μhe lΑΜΝΚgΡ. The mΡΛΜeΚΑeΛ aΚe veΚΡ celebΚaΜed and ΘΝΜ Αn lΑghΜ, he ΜΗld me. I aΛΓed hΑm ΜΗ elaborate.
Everything is done at the right time, at the right moment. Everything [that] is done is well-coordinated here. . . . The liturgy is well respected and totally understood. It is, leΜ Λ ΛaΡ, lived in a spiritual way. Did you see [the Abbot] in celebration today? . . . Nothing around him could disturb him. He was totally in what he was doing. Totally in celebration of the Eucharistic mystery. He was inside that. And everything around him he cΗΝld nΗΜ be dΑΛΜΝΚbed. And fΗΚ me, ΜhaΜ ΑΛ ΑmΘΗΚΜanΜ. IΜ Λ nΗΜ lΑΓe Αn a PaΚis church. . . . Here, people always respect what is celebrated in the church. And when there is no celebration, you can hear the silence. And it is very difficult to hear this silence in a Paris church or elsewhere in the world. Just in monasteries you can hear that.
One might assume that the more devout a person is, the less he will be moved by outside factors. But for Phillippe the opposite is true: Here, he expresses an understanding that the environment including the performance of the liturgy significantly influences his spiritual life. It is important, he says, to see that the monks are spiritually engaged with the liturgy
95 because it signifies to him that they respect and understand the liturgy to such a degree that it moves them.
Joseph was also moved by the liturgy at Solesmes, but in a slightly different way. For him, successful liturgy is about subservience to God, shown through obedience and control.
DΝΚΑng Μhe OffΑceΛ, Μhe mΗnΓΛ aΚe ΛΑΜΜΑng dΗΟn, and afΜeΚ ΜheΡ Κe ΛΜandΑng ΝΘ, and after they Κe bendΑng ΗveΚ, and ΜhaΜ Λ a gΗΗd ΘΗΑnΜ ΜΗ bΚeaΓ ΜheΑΚ ΟΑll Αn Μhe ΛenΛe Ηf ΜΚΡΑng ΜΗ bΚeaΓ eveΚΡΜhΑng ΜΗ cΗnfΗΚm mΗΚe and mΗΚe [ΜΗ GΗd Λ ΟΑll] aΛ ΘΗΛΛΑble. And that teaches humility in front of God. . . . There are a lot of things that can help a guy who wants to do a retreat for one week or more, to be more open, to understand, and to be in front of himself, to face his own battle.
LΑΓe PhΑllΑΘΘe, JΗΛeΘh nΗΜed Μhe effecΜ ΜhaΜ Μhe mΗnΓΛ ΘeΚfΗΚmance had Ηn hΑm. LaΜeΚ Αn ΗΝΚ conversation, he noted that Μhe acΜΑΗnΛ Ηf Μhe mΗnΓΛ ΗΘen Μhe dΗΗΚ ΗΚ ΟΑndΗΟ ΜΗ [Μhe
ΚeΜΚeaΜanΜΛ ] heaΚΜΛ. TheΑΚ acΜΑΗnΛ demΗnΛΜΚaΜe ΜΗ ΜheΑΚ vΑΛΑΜΗΚΛ a ΟaΡ Αn ΟhΑch ΜΗ gΚΗΟ and deepen in faith.
Not everyone I spoke with had such a positive view of the outward effects of the liturgy. Francesco noted that he felt bothered when others felt compelled, through the example of the monks, to join in the celebration.
I tend to experience things individually. I happened to hear a couple of times where someone was participating in the Mass, they were singing along. Not really singing out loud, but you know, like, mouthing. . . . And that really annoyed me, because I ΟanΜed mΡ ΛΘace. I dΗn Μ ΟanΜ ΜΗ heaΚ ΜheΛe ΗΜheΚ nΗΑΛeΛ. . . . Same gΗeΛ Αn a cΗnceΚΜ if someone around me is singing, it ΚeallΡ annΗΡΛ me. I m heΚe ΜΗ heaΚ Μhe ΘeΚfΗΚmeΚ!
FΚanceΛcΗ Λ enΒΗΡmenΜ Ηf chanΜ ΟaΛ nΗΜ baΛed Ηn a spiritual connection to its subject, nor was it about being a part of a community of believers who appreciated the music. Instead,
Francesco experienced chant therapeutically despite its subject and its (usual) community.
96
Liturgy did not bother him, per se, but when it influenced others to similarly act out their faith especially in ways that disturbed his peace it disrupted his concentration and his enjoyment of the service. Anecdotally, I should note that of the numerous guests who passed through Solesmes during my extended stay there, he was the only other one, besides myself, who regularly attended the Vigils service at 5:30 a.m. Apparently for Francesco, the lack of disturbance was more important than the early hour or the lack of musical diversity.
William Stainsby recognized another element of the liturgy at Solesmes. Billy, as he preferred to be called, is a writer and scholar from Ireland and has been researching the
Cistercian presence in Ireland for several years. His appearance fit the stereotype of a modern
Irish writer he had a thin build, wore jeans with an earth-toned blazer, and had a pony tail that reached his shoulders. His voice embodied the contradictions of deep sadness and even deeper hopefulness, and after talking with him for little over an hour, I felt as though I had gained a lifetime of knowledge. He articulated with profound detail and thoughtfulness his love of the Catholic faith, and how it had given him a deeper sense of life.
WhΑle hΑΛ vΑΛΑΜΛ ΟeΚe nΗΜ aΛ ΚegΝlaΚ ΗΚ fΚeΙΝenΜ aΛ PhΑllΑΘΘe Λ, he had cΗme ΜΗ SΗleΛmeΛ several times. Our conversation meandered through many topics, and soon we spoke about the worship at Solesmes. Billy mentioned he was moved by the balance struck by the monks aΜ SΗleΛmeΛ. WhaΜ balance? I aΛΓed. HΑΛ anΛΟeΚ, lΑΓe ΜhaΜ Ηf a gΗΗd ΟΚΑΜeΚ, ΟaΛ deΜaΑled and historically informed.
They had preserved, absolutely, the beautiful liturgy, the liturgical tradition of the Catholic Church . . . and at the same ΜΑme, ΑΜ ΟaΛn Μ naΚΚΗΟlΡ CaΜhΗlΑc. TheΡ ΟeΚen Μ ΛaΡΑng, baΛΑcallΡ, We ve gΗΜ eveΚΡΜhΑng ΚΑghΜ and all Ηf Μhe neΟ develΗΘmenΜΛ aΚe ΟΚΗng, becaΝΛe ΜheΡ had ΜaΓen Ηn Μhe LΑΜΝΚgΑcal ΚefΗΚmΛ Ηf VaΜΑcan II the Decree on
97
the Liturgy, which was the first of the Ecumenical Decrees. . . .140 So you know, Solesmes, I felt struck the right balance. They were keeping what they perceived as the authentic tradition of the church, especially in terms of its liturgical chant and so on, and at the same time, they embodied the openness of the church, of the modern world, and ΜhaΜ Λ ΛΗmeΜhΑng I aΘΘΚecΑaΜed. [TheΡ aΚen Μ lΑΓe ΗΜheΚ] orders, which maybe remain very rigid and in the past, or too open to modernity. [Either of these extremes] loses out on what the other has to offer.
Solesmes is one of the relatively few churches under the Roman See that have always recited the Tridentine Mass that is, they do not celebrate the Pope Paul VI Mass that has been typical in most churches since it was finalized in 1970. That Mass, also referred to as the
Novus Ordo ( NeΟ OΚdeΚ ), ΟaΛ dΚafΜed aΛ a result of the many reforms of Vatican II. In general, the Novus Ordo is significantly more transparent than its predecessor in showing the processes of the Mass and in allowing participation from the laity. Starting with the use of the common language of the people, through other elements like the use of public recitation and singing, the Novus Ordo is typically thought of as being more accessible to the majority of
Catholics.
In its attempts to include the laity, though, the Novus Ordo is often criticized by more traditional Catholics as falling short of the dignity of the Tridentine form. In the Novus Ordo,
Eucharistic rites are performed facing the public, as opposed to the Tridentine Mass which is to be directed toward God. Thus, in the Tridentine form, many of the most important gestures aΚe ΗbΛcΝΚed Αn Ηne ΟaΡ ΗΚ anΗΜheΚ fΚΗm Μhe laΡ aΝdΑence. DeΘendΑng Ηn Ηne Λ perspective, this might be perceived as contributing to the mystery of the miracles performed
140 The Sacrosanctum Concilium, CΗnΛΜΑΜΝΜΑΗn Ηn Μhe SacΚed LΑΜΝΚgΡ, ΟaΛ Ηne Ηf Μhe ΜΟΗ dΗcΝmenΜΛ fΑΚΛΜ published by the Second Vatican Council, on 04 December 1963. The Novus Ordo was introduced in 1969 and published in 1970. 98 at Mass, or as keeping from the public the elements that they as worshipers have a right to witness.
The general problem, which Billy alluded to, is that the Tridentine Mass is typically associated with the older Catholic Church in which priests and other religious leaders were seen as inaccessible to the public and were typically regarded as hierarchically superior to the laity. On the other hand, the Pope Paul VI Mass is an embodiment of the twentieth-century
Catholic Church, which is laid-back and of the people. However, in catering to the needs of the vast majority of Catholics who are not ordained, it has a tendency to lose sight of the rich traditions that fueled its creation in the first place.
As Billy observed, though, there is a balance between these two approaches a fact that
I believe has as much to do with the mΗnΓΛ behavΑΗΚ aΛ ΟΑΜh acΜΝal liturgy. While the monks celebrate the Tridentine Mass and celebrate the Office in its Latin form they are also acceΛΛΑble ΘeΗΘle. AΛ PhΑllΑΘΘe nΗΜed, YΗΝ Κe alΟaΡΛ ΚeΛΘecΜed aΛ ΡΗΝ aΚe. . . . If ΡΗΝ ΟanΜ ΜΗ
ΛΘeaΓ, Αf ΡΗΝ dΗn Μ ΟanΜ ΜΗ ΛΘeaΓ, Αf ΡΗΝ ΟanΜ to share something they are always available.
You just have to knock on the door. . . . They will always find time for you to speak and to helΘ ΡΗΝ Αf ΡΗΝ ΚeΙΝeΛΜ ΑΜ.
The fact is, the lives and rituals of the monks can be fetishized and can be thought of as otherworldly. People who spend a significant portion of their lives in ritual and prayer not to mention old rituals full of actions and symbols that give an impression of insider knowledge might be observed for the sole reason that they are doing something that most others do not do, anachronistically. Certainly, my own dissertation was prompted by this fascination, and I think other works (for instance, the 2005 documentary Into Great Silence, or the works of Thomas Merton) have enjoyed some success from similar fetishizations.
99
And yet, as Billy astutely observed, there is balance at Solesmes between the old and the new. One quickly realizes that the monks at Solesmes are rather normal people. Although their spiritual practices are ancient and are associated with a time when church leaders were inaccessible, they embody a post-Vatican II-style respect for people, shown in their openness and their willingness to help people in whatever way possible. They show a way for the
Church to be steeped in liturgical tradition while being the open type of church that the
Vatican II liturgical reforms had envisioned.
Ars Celebrandi
I have kept in touch with many of the people with whom I spoke at Solesmes. Chief among those is Fr. Stephan Jung, a German Priest who visits Solesmes regularly, when he cΗmeΛ ΜΗ hΑΛ ΘaΚΑΛh Λ ΛΑΛΜeΚ-church in nearby Le Mans. Fr. Stephan is an ideal interlocutor because while he is technically an outsider to the monastic community and views it with a certain amount of distance, he is also given special insider privileges, like celebrating Mass with the monks in the choir.
Our conversations tend to be rather informal in nature as we try to keep up to date with the crucial events in each other s lives, but we have engaged occasionally in more serious conversations about religion and spirituality. Keeping all my earlier conversations in mind, I hoped he could provide additional insight into any of the liturgical topics which I had discussed with the others. I began by asking him to defΑne ΘeΚfΗΚmance, aΛ ΑΜ ΚelaΜed ΜΗ Μhe
ΚelΑgΑΗΝΛ. ThΑΛ ΘΚΗved ΜΗ be a mΗΚe ΗbΜΝΛe ΙΝeΛΜΑΗn Μhan I had ΑnΑΜΑallΡ ΑmagΑned. YΗΝΚ
ΙΝeΛΜΑΗn ΑΛ abΗΝΜ ΗΝΚ manneΚ ΜΗ ΘΚeΛenΜ ΗΝΚΛelveΛ? AΛ a ΘΚΑeΛΜ, aΛ a nΝn, aΛ a mΗnΓ? 100
I ΛΝΘΘΗΛe ΛΗ, I ΚeΛΘΗnded, bΝΜ I m Οondering whether you think of that presentation as performance or not. When you say Mass, do you think of that as performance,
ΗΚ aΛ ΛΗmeΜhΑng elΛe?
If I m celebΚaΜΑng HΗlΡ MaΛΛ, naΜΝΚallΡ I ΟΗΝld ΜaΓe caΚe abΗΝΜ Μhe ΛΜΡle Ηf celebΚaΜΑΗn, he began. You have to take care of the ars celebrandi, the presentation of your body, and maybe also your clothes, your reading, and your presence. Through your heart, all
Ηf ΜheΛe ΜhΑngΛ cΗnnecΜ ΜΗ Ηne anΗΜheΚ.
Ars celebrandi, Μhe aΚΜ Ηf ΘΚΗΘeΚ celebΚaΜΑΗn, Οas a term I had not encountered prior to my conversation with Stephan, but a quick search revealed its relatively recent use by Pope
Benedict XVI. In 2007, the Pope released his first Post-Synodal Apostolic Exhortation titled
Sacramentum caritatis ( The SacΚamenΜ Ηf ChaΚΑΜΡ ) Αn ΚeΛΘΗnΛe ΜΗ Μhe mΗΛΜ ΚecenΜ SΡnΗd Ηf
Bishops (which had ended in October 2005) and the Year of the Eucharist, initiated by Pope
John Paul II in October 2004, and which Benedict XVI inherited in April 2005. The entire
Sacramentum caritatis is thus a reflection on the Eucharist particularly its mystery and its celebration. Included in the discussion on Eucharistic celebration is a chapter titled Ars celebrandi, Αn ΟhΑch Μhe PΗΘe ΟΚΑΜeΛ ΜhaΜ ΜhΗΛe ΟhΗ have ΚeceΑved Μhe ΛacΚamenΜ Ηf HΗlΡ
OΚdeΚΛ (Α.e., bishops, priests, and deacons) have a responsibility to celebrate the liturgy in such a way that it encapsulates the dignity and mystery of the Eucharist.
Pope Benedict, a scholar and student of Church tradition and liturgy, took an approach that seems aimed directly at progressive churches who took liberties with
101 celebΚaΜΑΗn. EmΘhaΛΑΣΑng Μhe ΑmΘΗΚΜance Ηf Μhe ars celebrandi also leads to an appreciation of the value of the liturgical norms, he ΟΚΑΜeΛ.141 Continuing, he says:
The ars celebrandi should foster a sense of the sacred and the use of outward signs which help to cultivate this sense, such as, for example, the harmony of the rite, the liturgical vestments, the furnishings and the sacred space. . . . Special respect and care must also be given to the vestments, the furnishings and the sacred vessels, so that by their harmonious and orderly arrangement they will foster awe for the mystery of God, manifest the unity of the faith and strengthen devotion.142
PΗΘe BenedΑcΜ Λ maΑn ΘΗΑnΜ here is that outward presentation can affect inward belief. While some may see this as akin to the dealings of a snake-oil salesperson, this practice is firmly within the realm of established performance theory, which I discuss in more depth in the conclusion. Essentially, though, performance theorist Richard Schechner argues that the act of acting even when the action is not at first believed by the actor actually creates the desired belief.143
Benedict also ΟΚΑΜeΛ abΗΝΜ lΑΜΝΚgΑcal ΛΗng ΛΘecΑfΑcallΡ, ΛΜaΜΑng ΜhaΜ ΑΜ haΛ a ΘΚe-eminent
Θlace Αn Μhe ars celebrandi.144 However, he says that while the Church has created a wealth of mΝΛΑc Αn ΑΜΛ lΗng hΑΛΜΗΚΡ, aΛ faΚ aΛ Μhe lΑΜΝΚgΡ ΑΛ cΗnceΚned, Οe cannΗΜ ΛaΡ ΜhaΜ Ηne song is as gΗΗd aΛ anΗΜheΚ. On Ηne ΛΑde Ηf Μhe PΗnΜΑff Λ ΒΝdgmenΜ aΚe geneΚΑc ΑmΘΚΗvΑΛaΜΑΗn ΗΚ . . . mΝΛΑcal genΚeΛ ΟhΑch faΑl ΜΗ ΚeΛΘecΜ Μhe meanΑng Ηf Μhe lΑΜΝΚgΡ ; Ηn Μhe ΗΜheΚ ΑΛ GΚegΗΚΑan chant.
141 Pope Benedict XVI, Sacramentum caritatis, Libreria Editrice Vaticana, 2007: 40. (Emphasis mine) http://w2.vatican.va/content/benedict-xvi/en/apost_exhortations/documents/hf_ben- xvi_exh_20070222_sacramentum-caritatis.html. 142 Ibid., 40-41. 143 RΑchaΚd SchechneΚ, MagnΑΜΝdeΛ Ηf PeΚfΗΚmance Αn By Means of Performance: Intercultural Studies of Theatre and Ritual, Richard Schechner and Willa Appel, eds. (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1990), 19-49. 144 Ibid., 42. 102
The PΗΘe Λ ΑΛΛΝe ΟaΛ nΗΜ ΟΑΜh mΗdeΚn mΝΛΑc, ΘeΚ Λe; he acknowledges that the Church
still cΚeaΜeΛ mΝΛΑc and ΛΗngΛ ΟhΑch ΚeΘΚeΛenΜ a ΚΑch ΘaΜΚΑmΗnΡ Ηf faΑΜh and lΗve. 145 Instead,
Benedict was targeting musical taste a rather subjective judgment, especially given the vast number of ages and cultures represented in the Catholic faith. It is highly probable that what mΑghΜ mΗve Ηne cΗngΚegaΜΑΗn ΜΗ ΚeΛΘecΜ Μhe meanΑng Ηf Μhe lΑΜΝΚgΡ mΑghΜ nΗΜ be ΛΝΑΜable for all. Moreover, if it was not already clear which genre Benedict found to be universally acceptable, he states it with certitude a few chapters later. In the chapter titled Actuosa participatio, the Pope writes that in large-Λcale lΑΜΝΚgΑeΛ, eΛΘecΑallΡ celebΚaΜΑΗnΛ aΜ
ΑnΜeΚnaΜΑΗnal gaΜheΚΑngΛ, GΚegΗΚΑan chanΜ ΛhΗΝld be ΛΝng. He cΗnΜΑnΝeΛ,
Speaking more generally, I ask that future priests, from their time in the seminary, receive the preparation needed to understand and to celebrate Mass in Latin, and also to use Latin texts and execute Gregorian chant; nor should we forget that the faithful can be taught to recite the more common prayers in Latin, and also to sing parts of the liturgy to Gregorian chant.146
In 1970, the year the Pope Paul VI Mass was introduced, the future Pope, Cardinal
Joseph Ratzinger, published the book Faith and Future in which he prophesied a future
Church ΛΑgnΑfΑcanΜlΡ ΛmalleΚ and ΟΑΜh a lacΓ Ηf ΛΗcΑal ΘΗΟeΚ; nΗΜ Μhe ChΝΚch Ηf Μhe
ΘΗlΑΜΑcal cΝlΜ, ΟhΑch ΑΛ dead alΚeadΡ, bΝΜ Μhe ChΝΚch Ηf faΑΜh. 147 His view held that a small and orthodox Church was more spiritually alive than a large one that bent to the whims of the times. In fact, the Church that grew by its allowance of actions would die, but one which held firm to its core principles would thrive once more; in essence, he saw himself as the fire
145 Ibid., emphasis mine. 146 Ibid., 62. 147 Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger, Faith and Future [1970], (San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 2009). Reprinted at http://www.catholiceducation.org/en/religion-and-philosophy/spiritual-life/the-church-will-become-small.html (accessed 30 January 2016). 103
Ηf JeΛΝΛ Λ ΘaΚable that would burn the chaff from the grain.148 His words could scarcely have been more contrary to the spirit of Vatican II.
It should be no wonder, then, why Pope Benedict XVI would be such a strong advocate for Gregorian chant and the Latin liturgy in general. Those forms of worship could build a Church strong in its conviction because its roots would extend back for centuries. In essence, Benedict was seeking to connect Catholicism once again with its rich traditions.
Tradition or not, I was still curious why the ars celebrandi was important, especially
Οhen Μhe ΘΗΘe aΚgΝed fΗΚ lΑΜΝΚgΑcal nΗΚmΛ. These norms actually direct the liturgy away from the celebrants themselves, and towards God; thus, only God can really observe the artfulness of their celebration. I asked Fr. Stephan if he could explain why the ars celebrandi mattered in this context.
Because we are human beings we are body and soul I think that we need a good combination between the inner part of our being and how we present ourselves, yes? IΜ Λ neceΛΛaΚΡ ΜΗ have a ΝnΑΜΡ beΜΟeen ΘeΚfΗΚmance and ΗΝΚ ΑnneΚ vΑΛΑΗn. In Μhe Catholic liturgy, for example, they have a lot of rites, and they are answering to our different senses. You can smell something the incense, for example or you can see the candle lights, the different colors, or the thurible, the touch of the gloves, the bells, and . . . mΝch mΗΚe Μhan Αn Μhe PΚΗΜeΛΜanΜ lΑΜΝΚgΡ, ΑΜ Λ nΗΜ ΗnlΡ abΗΝΜ Μhe ΟΗΚd, abΗΝΜ the thinking, about the brain. The performance of the Catholic liturgy is constructed about the whole man, where both the mind and the body receive the message.
I fΗΝnd SΜeΘhan Λ anΛΟeΚ ΜΗ be ΛΝΚΘΚΑΛΑnglΡ cΗnvΑncΑng. MΝch Ηf mΡ ΗΟn ΛΘΑΚΑΜΝal ΒΗΝΚneΡ has revolved around a rejection of the body and the things that the body likes and craves.
Stephan showed a different position Ηne ΜhaΜ ΑΛ ΘeΚfecΜlΡ Αn lΑne ΟΑΜh even PΗΘe BenedΑcΜ Λ conservative view of liturgy that acknowledged and embraced the whole body, and the
148 Matt 3:12. 104 legitimate intellectual and sensory needs of humans. This was a revelation I had not expected to find at a Benedictine monastery.
A Charism of Tradition
In his discussion of ars celebrandi, Pope Benedict XVI alluded to the rich traditions of the Catholic Church. Tradition at least, a tradition as long and expansive as that of the
Catholic Church, is a defining characteristic of the institution. Benedict recognized the fact that the Church of the past was a political superpower; the Church of the future would get its power from connecting to and embracing its liturgical traditions.
The subject of tradition came up in all the conversations I had at Solesmes. As with most of the topics we spoke about, Francesco had an intriguing take on tradition. When I asked him whether the meaning and historical context of the chant bothered him, he
ΚeΛΘΗnded Αn Μhe negaΜΑve. IΜ ΛΜΑmΝlaΜeΛ me, ΛΗmehΗΟ, he ΛaΑd. IΜ Λ mΝΛΑc ΜhaΜ haΛ been ΝΛed for prayer. It has a spiritual side. So I feel completely comfortable with [it]. . . . Thinking about it, generation to generation . . . have been practicing their [spiritual] life with this bacΓgΚΗΝnd, ΟΑΜh ΜhΑΛ ΛΗΝnd, and ΜhaΜ acΜΝallΡ ΘΝΜΛ me aΜ eaΛe. RaΜheΚ Μhan dΑΛΛΝadΑng hΑm, tradition allowed Francesco to deepen his meditative practices.
Billy, the Irish writer, spoke the most about tradition. The topic evolved organically
ΗΝΜ Ηf ΗΝΚ cΗnveΚΛaΜΑΗn. He ΚeΜΝΚned ΜΗ Μhe balance Ηf Μhe mΗnΓΛ aΜ SΗleΛmeΛ between tradition and modernity several times: TheΡ have ΓeΘΜ ΜheΑΚ cΗnΜemΘlaΜΑve mΗnastic
ΑdenΜΑΜΡ, and ΡeΜ aΜ Μhe Λame ΜΑme, Οhen Μhe need aΚΑΛeΛ and ΜheΚe Λ need fΗΚ claΚΑΜΡ, ΜheΡ Κe
105 very open. . . . Their charism is really to preserve what is best of the Catholic heritage and to pass it on to the next generation and the generations thaΜ ΟΑll cΗme afΜeΚ ΑΜ.
The topic of tradition came up later when Billy and I discussed the chants and prayers of the monks and hΗΟ ΜheΡ dΑffeΚed fΚΗm ΗΜheΚ ΜΚadΑΜΑΗnΛ. ThΑΛ ΑΛ nΗΜ ΒΝΛΜ ΛΗΚΜ Ηf a baΛΑc urge, lΑΓe an Om ΡΗΝ ll fΑnd Αn ΛΗme Ηf Μhe EaΛΜeΚn ΚelΑgΑΗnΛ, he ΛaΑd, hΝmmΑng Μhe ΛΡllable fΗΚ emΘhaΛΑΛ. ThΑΛ ΑΛ ΛΗmeΜhΑng ΟhΑch ΑΛ acΜΝallΡ cΗmΑng ΗΝΜ Ηf a bΗdΡ Ηf ΛcΚΑΘΜΝΚe ΟhΑch ΑΛ baΛΑcallΡ ΛΘeaΓΑng abΗΝΜ GΗd, albeΑΜ Αn a hΝman fΗΚm Ηf langΝage. ReallΡ, I ΜhΑnΓ Οe Κe getting to what tradition is all abΗΝΜ heΚe.
HΗΟ ΛΗ? I aΛΓed, nΗΜ fΝllΡ ΝndeΚΛΜandΑng hΑΛ ΘΗΑnΜ.
BecaΝΛe ΜΚadΑΜΑΗn eΠΘΚeΛΛeΛ something abΗΝΜ GΗd. IΜ Λ nΗΜ dΑvΑne ΚevelaΜΑΗn aΛ ΛΝch, bΝΜ ΑΜ Λ Μhe aΚΜΑcΝlaΜΑΗn Ηf dΑvΑne ΚevelaΜΑΗn. If ΡΗΝ ΜΚΡ and ΛacΚΑfΑce ΜΚadΑΜΑΗn, becaΝΛe ΑΜ s perceived as an impediment to progress, then I think that reveals a very superficial
ΝndeΚΛΜandΑng Ηf Μhe ΑmΘΗΚΜance Ηf ΜΚadΑΜΑΗn.
His statement raised my next question: WhΡ ΑΛ ΜΚadΑΜΑΗn ΛΗ ΑmΘΗΚΜanΜ?
BecaΝΛe ΑΜ ΑΛ Μhe dΑΛΜΑllaΜΑΗn Ηf lΑΜeΚallΡ Μhousands of years of human beings coming to terms with theΑΚ encΗΝnΜeΚ ΟΑΜh GΗd, he ΛaΑd:
Through scripture. Through their own experience. Through their experience with beauty. Through their encounters at many different levels. Tradition is something which takes possession of oneself where you feel that you are part of something that is much greater than yourself. . . . And you know that despite your own shortcomings and eveΚΡΜhΑng elΛe, ΜhaΜ ΡΗΝ Κe ΘaΚΜ Ηf a ΚealΑΜΡ ΟhΑch ΑΛ mΝch bΑggeΚ Μhan ΡΗΝΚΛelf. Which in fact connects you to everything that is true, good, beautiful, and ultimately, one, if I can express it like that. . . . As we progress and as time goes by, the Church is basically a pilgrim in time to eternity. We have to bring with us everything which is of permanent value.
106
This summarized our conversation and my entire experience at Solesmes quite nicely. But
BΑllΡ cΗnΜΑnΝed ΜalΓΑng. ThaΜ Λ ΟhΡ SΗleΛmeΛ ΑΛ ΛΗ ΑmΘΗΚΜanΜ, he ΛaΑd, ΜalΓΑng ΛΘecΑfΑcallΡ about their ΛeΚvΑng aΛ ΜhΑΛ ΘΑlgΚΑm ΜΗ eΜeΚnΑΜΡ. I ΜhΑnΓ DΗm PΚΗΛΘeΚ GΝéΚangeΚ ΟaΛ someone who realized . . . the importance of tradition, most definitely. I think that was his charism, in fact. We normally think of a charism in terms of a moral or theological virtue, but
I think you can speaΓ Ηf ΛΗmeΗne havΑng a chaΚΑΛm fΗΚ ΜΚadΑΜΑΗn.
107
CHAPTER FOUR
ST. LEO ABBEY: LIVING THE CULTURE OF VATICAN II
I can actually do it
The heat and humidity of Central Florida in August is almost unbearable, even in the evenings. A beautiful sunset poured through the window of my room, but I chose to lie on my bed, enjoying the air conditioner and freedom from mosquitoes. I’ll go out in a few minutes, I thought to myself. My room was by no means luxurious, but it was cool and insect- free.
The purples and golds gradually became too much for me to ignore, and I left through the back of the guesthouse. Extending from the back deck was a field of tall grass with baby palm trees scattered about. At the edge of the grass was Lake Jovita, a relatively small body of water but one that would be too large for a casual walk. I scanned the bank, moving counterclockwise past the abbey until I could see the adobe-colored buildings of St. Leo
University, uniform and filled with students after the long summer. Beyond the university were the miniature clouds of a thunderstorm that had rolled through several hours before.
I walked around the guesthouse, looking up at the sky. As the sun passed below the horizon, the rich colors reflected off the abbey church and its bell tower. As I made my way to the front of the guesthouse, I noticed a fellΗΟ vΑΛΑΜΗΚ. IΜ Λ ΙΝΑΜe beaΝΜΑfΝl, ΑΛn Μ ΑΜ? I aΛΓed.
He smiled and nodded, and we both took in as many of the sights as we could.
108
My new friend was Mark, a real estate agent from Naples. He described himself as a
cΚadle CaΜhΗlΑc ΟhΗΛe ΛΘΑΚΑΜΝal lΑfe had been almost non-existent until just a few years ago.
In his earlier life, Mark was involved in engineering firms, and he worked primarily in the sale of abrasives. He joked that he used to sell millions of dollars of sandblasters, but now sells millions of dollars of properties on sand. His thick white hair was perfectly coifed, and his tan face left no question about his state of residence. He bore a slight resemblance to Dustin
Hoffman, which endeared him to me even before we were properly introduced.
Mark and I walked around the church for a while, meeting an occasional group of students as they passed from one side of their university to the other. Until that evening, most of my interaction with Mark had been at meals, where we sat and talked with other guests, and with Brother Stanislaw who sat at our table. During those times, I mostly listened and tried to take everything in. But that night, I decided to tell Mark about my research and why I was at St. Leo Abbey.
We talked for a bit, then moved indoors. Instead of going to the guest house where I stayed, we went into a second guest area that was attached to and ran perpendicular to the church, where Mark was staying. The main floor of this attachment contained a large lounge with some chairs and some couches. Around the room, glass cases held artifacts from the abbey. We sat down and talked for over an hour.
Mark was gracious with his time and seemed to enjoy connecting with people. He was easy to talk with, but my opinion of him was always in flux. When he talked about his accomplishments, it was easy to think of him as prideful, even egotistical; when he spoke of his failures, though, he seemed to be on the opposite end of the spectrum. After getting to know him, I decided that no matter the subject, Mark was simply someone who voiced his
109 thoughts in full detail. I presumed that if I asked him about his physical and spiritual journey to St. Leo, he would be similarly forthcoming.
Coming to St. Leo in particular was a bit of a fluke for Mark; it just happened to be the closest monastery to Naples, and it was a retreat destination recommended by his priest.
My story was similar: I wanted to visit a monastery, and St. Leo was relatively close to me.
But Mark really felt alive at St. Leo, a disposition I witnessed on numerous occasions. He was deeply moved by the spirit of the monastery and felt at peace there. I asked him what it was abΗΝΜ SΜ. LeΗ ΜhaΜ made hΑm feel Μhe ΟaΡ he felΜ, ΜΗ ΟhΑch he ΚeΘlΑed, IΜ Λ acceΛΛΑble ΜΗ Μhe laΑΜΡ. FΗΚ all Μhe talking Mark did, this answer seemed canned, so I asked him to elaborate.
He explained to me that years before, a friend had given him seven volumes of the Office, and
ΜhaΜ he had Κead alΗng ΟΑΜh Μhem daΑlΡ. NΗΟ, I cΗme heΚe, and I can acΜΝallΡ do ΑΜ, he said.
MaΚΓ Λ ΛΜaΜemenΜ ΚeΛΗnaΜed ΟΑΜh me, bΝΜ ΟheΚeaΛ he emΘhaΛΑΣed Μhe doing of monastic hours,
I was interested in ability to practice. I found the monks at St. Leo to be unexpectedly modern, earthy, and familiar. Unlike the monks at Solesmes, who I imagined were on a high untouchable pedestal of piety, the St. Leo monks set a standard that seemed surprisingly aΜΜaΑnable ΜΗ me: I can actually dΗ ΑΜ.
Mark also made an implicit distinction in his statement that I thought was very compelling: To him, recΑΜΑng Μhe OffΑce alΗne ΟaΛ nΗΜ acΜΝallΡ dΗΑng ΑΜ. The ΚΑΜΝal ΟaΛ ΗnlΡ done (or done in a way that satisfied him) when it was with other people. Of course, I knew that ritual is a social event, but it was interesting to think of the differences between solo practice and group religion. Reading alone is isolating, but performing something builds community connecting to others, creating something together, acting out communitas, is a life-affirming pursuit. What had begun for Mark as abstract text had become a lived and
110 embodied practice of which he felt ownership and connection.
At the monastery, Mark had read a copy of the Rule of St. Benedict and realized that the purpose for monastic living was to foster experiences like his own. Reading the Hours by himself had had a major impact on Mark and had led him towards a deeper spiritual life, but that life did not have a sense of fulfillment until he practiced it with others. He explained that
ΜhΑΛ ΟaΛ, Αn hΑΛ ΝndeΚΛΜandΑng, BenedΑcΜ Λ maΑn ΘΗΑnΜ: SΘΑΚΑΜΝalΑΜΡ is something that should be practiced in community not just because it keeps people accountable, but because there are deeper spiritual truths to be found when opening up and sharing that life with others.
The brothers at St. Leo Abbey have cultivated an arena where someone like Mark, who was relatively new to his faith, can come, practice, and develop. Their sense of connection to outsiders was unlike any I saw at any of the other locations I visited, a fact that
I will argue is intimately connected to their environment. As a visitor to the monastery, I felt actively involved in worship and called upon to participate a style that was surprising but also highly satisfying. Yet I also witnessed the drawbacks to this type of community: With so much care given to the outside, it is difficult to focus on the communal core of the monastery.
Additionally, involvement from the outside can seem to have a derailing effect for certain rituals. Ultimately, though, I found that the ability of the St. Leo monks to facilitate profound spiritual journeys made up for whatever limitations their approach presents.
St. Leo Abbey: An Overview
St. Leo is a small Benedictine community founded in the 1880s by German-immigrant monks from Saint Vincent Archabbey in Latrobe, Pennsylvania. The monks, together with
111 the sisters of Holy Name Priory, who had arrived at about the same time, were given the task of ministering to the growing German population in Central Florida. In support of this mission, the monks founded St. Leo College in 1889, an institution that bore the name of their Prior, Leo Haid, and the current Pope, Leo XIII. The abbey was officially chartered in
1902 by Pope Leo XIII; the school remained under the jurisdiction of the abbey through the
1960s.149
In his 1991 oral history of St. Leo Abbey, anthropologist Michael Angrosino interviewed the monks of St. Leo, whose thoughts naturally turned toward the most dramatic point in their remembered history: the 1960s.150 Angrosino notes that the reforms of Vatican
II meant that the traditional hierarchies of the monastery were no longer so well-defined. The passing of the oldest generation of monks coincided with the reforms of Vatican II, so while the abbot was still regarded as the father of the community, the hierarchical division of power between the older German priests and the younger American lay brethren was completely disrupted and replaced with a more democratic way of life.151 Older brothers stayed at St. Leo but expressed feeling disrespected; many younger brothers left the order due to this newly hΗΛΜΑle envΑΚΗnmenΜ. AΛ Ηne Ηf Μhe mΗnΓΛ ΛaΑd ΜΗ AngΚΗΛΑnΗ, The cΗmmΝnΑΜΡ ΟaΛ gΗΑng down, down, down. The buildings were even going down and the attitude was going down also. The community needed a rebirth. Some peΗΘle have neveΚ gΗΜΜen ΗveΚ ΜhaΜ. TheΡ Κe heΚe, I ΜhΑnΓ, ΒΝΛΜ ΜΗ fΑnΑΛh ΜheΑΚ lΑfe heΚe. IΜ lefΜ a veΚΡ deeΘ ΛcaΚ. 152
Near the end of his work, Angrosino noted that the sense of community is simply not
149 James J. Horgan, Pioneer College: The Centenial History of Saint Leo College, Saint Leo Abbey, and Holy Name Priory (St. Leo, FL: Saint Leo College Press, 1989), 567-572. 150 Michael Angrosino, “Conversations in a Monastery,” The Oral History Review 19, nos. 1 & 2 (Spring & Autumn, 1991): 55-73. 151 Ibid., 66. 152 Ibid., 67. 112 as strong as it once was, or as he hopes it might be Ηnce agaΑn. IΜΛ ΛenΛe Ηf mΑΛΛΑΗn haΛ dΑΛΛΑΘaΜed, he ΟΚΗΜe.153 The lΗΛΛ Ηf mΑΛΛΑΗn began ΟΑΜh Μhe mΗnaΛΜeΚΡ Λ dΑΛaΛΛΗcΑaΜΑΗn ΟΑΜh
St. Leo College, an event that coincided with the new reforms of Vatican II. With no central mission and no agreed upon social structure, individual attitudes and missions took the place of a communal identity. The effect was catastrophic: Once the community had been compromised, it became more difficult to embark on new goals or even to agree on what those goals might be. AngroΛΑnΗ Λ aΛΛeΛΛmenΜ ΟaΛ damnΑng, eΛΘecΑallΡ fΗΚ a mΗnaΛΜeΚΡ ΜhaΜ was, at one time, a relatively major producer of oranges and dairy, instrumental in shaping religious life in the Central Florida region, and had founded and run one of the most successful Catholic schools in the Southern United States.
Michael Angrosino painted a relatively bleak portrait in 1991; the monastery he portrayed was past its prime, and though it hoped for a comeback, it lacked the type of focus and leadership required for such a return to form. Nonetheless, he wrote that the monks of
SΜ. LeΗ Λee ΛΗme hΗΘefΝl ΛΑgnΛ aΛ ΜheΡ embaΚΓ Ηn ΜheΑΚ ΘΑlgΚΑmage, ΜheΑΚ ΛeaΚch fΗΚ neΟ dΑΚecΜΑΗn. 154 Their hopefulness, wrote Angrosino, was in the institution of Benedictinism itself not just in its longevity but in what had allowed it to last so long, ΑΜΛ abΑlΑΜΡ ΜΗ mΗve
ΟΑΜh Μhe ΜΑmeΛ. BenedΑcΜΑneΛ cΗΝld ΜaΓe Ηn anΡ nΝmbeΚ Ηf ΟaΡΛ Ηf lΑvΑng; aΛ Fr. Michael said to me on one of our walks, Benedictines are flexible.
. . .
153 AngΚΗΛΑnΗ, CΗnveΚΛaΜΑΗnΛ Αn a MΗnaΛΜeΚΡ, 67. 154 Angrosino, 67. 113
Reflexivity, Biases, and more Reflexivity
Before continuing, I must address a concern that I recognized during my fieldwork, which has become even more apparent during my writing. The objective truth about my first encounter with St. Leo should be tempered by the fact that I was greatly influenced by
MΑchael AngΚΗΛΑnΗ Λ ΛhΗΚΜ ΗΚal hΑΛΜΗΚΡ. His observations, true as they may have been, were his to make, and they were bound to a certain time. Yet, due to the lack of substantial literature on St. Leo Abbey, this article played a pivotal role in my early thinking about this monastery and my fieldwork preparation. AngΚΗΛΑnΗ Λ cΗnclΝΛΑΗnΛ worked their way into my subconscious and colored my first perceptions of St. Leo. I became prey to the sin of ethnographic self-fulfilling prophecy described by Bourdieu in An Invitation to Reflexive
Sociology. AΛ BΗΝΚdΑeΝ ΟΚΑΜeΛ, TheΚe ΑΛ nΗ ΚΑΛΓ Ηf ΗveΚeΛΜΑmaΜΑng dΑffΑcΝlΜΡ and dangeΚΛ Οhen it comes to thinking the social world. The force of the preconstructed resides in the fact that, being inscribed both in things and in minds, it presents itself under the cloak of self-evident
ΟhΑch gΗeΛ ΝnnΗΜΑced becaΝΛe ΑΜ ΑΛ bΡ defΑnΑΜΑΗn ΜaΓen fΗΚ gΚanΜed. 155
BΗΝΚdΑeΝ Λ ΘΚeΛcΚΑΘΜΑΗn fΗΚ ΜhΑΛ ΑΛ ΟhaΜ he ΜeΚmΛ a ΚΝΘΜΝΚe a revolution or transformation of mind, vision, and personhood that will look at sociological problems with fresh understanding. Unfortunately, I did not fully recognize my biases until after I had completed my first research trip, so a complete rupture was only possible for my second trip.
While I have tried to incorporate this knowledge into my writing, my perceptions were surely influenced by the earlier work that had been done at St. Leo. I hope that by addressing this
155 Pierre Bourdieu, An Invitation to Reflexive Sociology (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1992), 251. 114 issue and bringing to light my ethnographic inadequacies, not only can I be aware of my biases in the writing process, but readers can use this information to inform their own perceptions. While I believe that my ultimate conclusions remain unchanged by this information, and my judgments are sound, I would be remiss to ignore altogether the natural tendencies of my mind.
A Monastery in the Sand
My first trip to St. Leo took place over Memorial Day weekend, 2015. From Interstate
75, which runs along the western coast of Florida, one can take Highway 52 east about four miles to arrive at the small town of St. Leo. The university and abbey are both enclosed inside a service road that runs parallel to Highway 52, on the other side of a deep ditch. From the highway, both institutions seem to bleed into one another, as indeed their histories are connected. Also within this St. Leo complex is the town post office, serving a population
(~1200) smaller than the university (~2300).
The abbey is sandwiched between the administrative and academic buildings of St.
Leo. Any students needing to take care of any business must pass by the abbatial church to do so. I observed the buildings as I drove along the service road, from the University administration buildings to the abbey itself. The buildings surrounding the monastery were noticeably less kept-up than the unΑveΚΛΑΜΡ bΝΑldΑngΛ. An Ηld mechanΑc Λ garage just to the west of the abbey was littered with old cars. I turned off of the service road onto the driveway to the abbey itself and found a series of quaint buildings lining the left side of the road. One building looked to be a woodworking shop, another a small retreat hall, and at the end was
115 the monastic gift shop. Directly to the side of the gift shop was a small netted canopy that
appeared to have
survived several
Florida summers; it
sheltered shelves with
a variety of plants for
sale. A small deposit
box inside the canopy
Fig. 4.1: St. Leo Abbey gift shop. Photograph by allowed guests to purchase these plants at Author. their own will. The signs labelling the
buildings bore the once-cool aesthetic of the
1970s counterculture (Fig. 4.1).
While these buildings seemed aged, the
abbatial church itself looked very nice from
the outside (Fig. 4.2). A tall bell tower rose
up in the southwest corner of the church, and
a number of steps led up to the two sets of
large wooden doors. Outside the church was
a landscaped courtyard, with trees and a bird
fountain. While it may not have been the
subject of postcards as the Solesmes Abbey
was, the architecture was nonetheless pretty. Fig. 4.2: St. Leo Abbey church. Photograph by Author.
116
The inside of the church was refreshingly cool, the product of an air conditioning system that appeared to run perpetually. The temperature was especially welcome, given the heat outside. When I walked into the church, the air was still hazy from being freshly incensed. Some people were already in the church, including a scattering of monks in the front benches. Everyone was silent, so I moved cautiously to a seat near the middle. I had walked in on the Adoration of the Blessed Sacrament, in which everyone contemplates the presence of Christ in the Eucharist. The church was silent except for the air conditioner and a small fountain near the front of the church. The cool fragrant atmosphere, mixed with the ambient sounds of water and wind from the A/C, and the demeanor of everyone in the church, made me feel as if I had walked into a meditation studio.
The abbatial church is not particularly large, but it could fit a capacity of 250 or more with some squeezing. It is in the architectural style of a basilica, but without the domed ceiling at one end typical of the style. Stained-glass representations of saints lined the walls leading up to the ceiling above the nave. The nave itself created architectural symmetry; on both sides, long pews stretched out, bordered by walkways, and there were open chapels along the side walls. Red and gold ceramic tiles patterned the floor. A sound made at any spot in the church seemed to carry throughout the entire building because of these highly reverberant tiles. Prior to my arrival I had felt some apprehension about the weekend, but those feelings subsided as I spent more time in the calming atmosphere of the church.
After about twenty minutes of sitting in silence, an older monk approached me to ask if I would like ΜΗ ΘaΚΜΑcΑΘaΜe Αn VeΛΘeΚΛ. WhaΜ he meanΜ bΡ ΘaΚΜΑcΑΘaΜe I ΟaΛ ΝnΛΝΚe, bΝΜ I
ΛhΗΗΓ mΡ head ΡeΛ and fΗllΗΟed hΑm ΑnΜΗ Μhe front pew. The monk sat to my left, and to my right were a grandson and grandmother. Immediately in front of us was a set of benches,
117 on top of which sat the worship books for the upcoming service. The books were all opened to the same page, with colored ribbons marking other pages. The monk sitting next to us gestured toward the books sitting on the benches and did his best to let us know the order in which we were to flip to the different colors. We waited in silence for Vespers to begin, and a few other people trickled into the church.
As we waited, I looked at the monks who were already sitting in the choir benches up front. The look of the monks not only their black habits, but their generally short hair, their black glasses, the way they carried themselves reminded me of being at Solesmes. The similar appearance should not have been a huge surprise, but I found myself amused by their similarities. As I continued looking, I saw a familiar glow on many of their faces not of heavenly light, but of tablet screens. They were all reading from iPads, Kindles, or other devices; I later learned about an app that the monks all had, which instructed them through the monastic hours, including all variations in practice. I heard the familiar tone of an iPhone receiving an email; as I looked around to see who the culprit was, the older monk sitting at the end of my pew pulled the phone from his habit, checked his mail, and turned his phone to silent before returning it to its resting place. I recalled a lunch at Solesmes in which I caught the abbot looking at his cellphone after he was finished eating. Their connectedness should not have been a huge surprise to me after all, the way I first encountered the monasteries I visited was through the internet, and I made my first contact with all of them via email. Yet it was still unusual to see this type of technology used by men who wore clothing styled from hundreds of years ago. Reconciling this anachronism took some effort; they were not part of a play or historical actors, they were individuals who dressed a certain way, participated in rituals together, and carried themselves with a particular demeanor. Watching monks use
118 technology felt a bit like peeking behind a curtain to see the actors rather than their characters, except that in this case, the character and the actor were united. Apart from their spiritual history, the Benedictines (of St. Leo, at least) were quite like anyone else.
Their ordinary quality was even more apparent in the Vespers service that began just a few moments later. While Vespers at Solesmes had been a relatively grand affair generally second only to Mass in both musical elaboration and length Vespers at St. Leo was fairly modest. The service lasted only about twenty minutes, and spoken recitation was far more common than its tonal counterpart. Latin was reserved for the Gregorian Pater noster, which the entire congregation sang with surprising accuracy. As far as I could tell, the congregants learned this chant solely from their participation at St. Leo.
Perhaps the most distinguishing quality of this service was nothing the monks actively did but what they allowed: congregational participation. From my front pew, I was encouraged to sing the opening hymn, recite the prayers they prayed, and join in the responsorial dialogue. This Vespers service was less like the Office, as I had come to know it at Solesmes, and more like a traditional church service. The monk in the front pew with us demonstrated what we were supposed to do at any given time; during the last line of any
ΘΛalm, he ΟΗΝld ΟhΑΛΘeΚ ΜΗ ΝΛ, GlΗΚΡ be… ΛΗ ΜhaΜ Οe ΟΗΝld ΓnΗΟ ΜΗ ΚecΑΜe Μhe ΝnΘΚΑnΜed
Gloria Patri. Monastic communities all have their own traditions, but having someone who actively invited visitors into the pew with him and demonstrated what to do opened these traditions up to the larger community.
At Solesmes, I had grown accustomed to a certain boundary between the monks and the visitors that was especially evident during all the services. There was a greeter, who stood by the door and handed out booklets for the Office, but it was rarely explained to the guests
119 how these books were to be used. During several of the Vigils services I attended, a monk came out from the choir benches to explain to the guests how to navigate the particularly cumbersome page turning of that service. However, after he had shown the visitors how this was to be done, he would make his way back to his seat with the other monks. It was clear that the monks were there to do their work the Opus Dei and that this work was serious and required focus. The congregants, on the other hand, served mostly as witnesses to the mΗnΓΛ ΟΗΚΓ. TheΚe ΟaΛ a ΚelaΜΑΗnΛhΑΘ beΜΟeen Μhe ΜΟΗ gΚΗΝΘΛ, bΝΜ ΑΜ ΟaΛ mΗΛΜlΡ ΛΜaΜΑc rather than dynamic. That is to say, while the monks certainly noted the presence of the congregation, their focus was on the completion of their task. On the other hand, the congregation never interacted with the monks, except on rare occasions (such as the offering of the Eucharist during Holy Mass).
I had not noticed the distance I felt at Solesmes until I went to St. Leo and experienced the way they integrate outsiders into their community. At St. Leo, not only did the congregation participate we were a vital component of each service. We were given the responsibility of helping to create the service, using our voices and bodies. Our presence there was active especially in the chanting of psalms, which were sung antiphonally between a small group of monks and everyone else. This type of participation was encouraged from a gΝeΛΜ Λ fΑΚΛΜ ΛΜeΘ ΑnΛΑde Μhe chΝΚch, and ΑΜ ΟaΛ ΛΝΘΘΗΚΜed bΡ Μhe demeanΗΚ Ηf Μhe mΗnΓΛ, Μhe style of their worship, and their use of a language that almost everyone there understood and knew how to pronounce.
This was the type of interactive performance that I had hoped I could engage in at
Solesmes, but that I quickly realized would have been inappropriate. At Solesmes, singing belonged to those who were trained and whose job it was to sing. There were guests who did
120 sing along, quietly, but the presence of their voices was always distracting to me, and seemed a bit misguided.156 Often, the monastic lifestyle seemed to be fetishized by visitors, and performance in their rituals even if it was from a distant pew was the most practicable way to enter into their circle.
While participation was used to define and isolate groups at Solesmes, the monks at St.
Leo used it as a tool for invitation and integration into their community. Through performance, the St. Leo monks conveyed their beliefs, community, and culture, all of which were characterized by a spirit of openness. But this openness made it difficult to pin down a distinct cultural identity as I was able to at Solesmes. I was left to question the role identity played in monasticism: IΛ ΑΜ ΘΗΛΛΑble fΗΚ a cΗmmΝnΑΜΡ Λ cenΜΚal ΜΚaΑΜ ΜΗ be ΗΘenneΛΛ, ΗΚ dΗeΛ this ensure that no true communal identity can exist? Does openness open the door to the existence of too many individual personalities? Or, to borrow from the parable, is a cΗmmΝnΑΜΡ bΝΑlΜ Ηn ΗΘenneΛΛ ΜΗ ΗΝΜΛΑde fΗΚceΛ aΓΑn ΜΗ bΝΑldΑng Ηne Λ hΗΝΛe ΝΘΗn Μhe Λand?
Flexible Borders
The monks at St. Leo demonstrated a culture of openness in their services, but this is just one outward indication of their monastic environment. This trait is radically manifest in all cultural arenas, a fact that was surprising and, at times, challenging.
The most readily noticeable trait of St. Leo Abbey is the lack of physical walls bordering the establishment. A service road and ditch border run parallel to the highway, but
156 See my discussion in chapter 3 with Francesco, who had very strong opinions against this type of participation. 121 there is no wall, no grand door one must walk through, to get to the monastery. Visitors are invited to survey Μhe chΝΚch Αn a clΗΑΛΜeΚ ΟalΓ a tour that is beautiful, but not (as the name often suggeΛΜΛ) Οalled Ηff Αn anΡ ΟaΡ. ClΗΑΛΜeΚ in the traditional, private sense, is a mere relic of the past at St. Leo a term devoid of its original meaning. One can walk into the church, to the side and behind the sanctuary, to the area where the monks keep their artifacts, and then into the church offices. The abbot has his own office, as do the guest master, the choir master, and others with special duties. There is just one area where uninvited visitors are prohibited the residential wing that includes the bedrooms of the monks. However, unlike the other monasteries I visited and unlike most Benedictine monasteries in general there is no walled off land that only the monks can access.
Despite their lack of administrative responsibility, St. Leo Abbey is still physically (as well as nominally) connected to St. Leo University. There are no physical boundaries between the two; they share land (the monastery is framed on both sides by the university) and one can walk from one into the other without noticing. While visiting, I witnessed students walking from their residential area of the campus on one side of the abbey to the business area on the other side. In addition to the visitors to the monastery, the monks are quite literally surrounded by college students for most the year. These students often attend the minor services and, more regularly, daily and Sunday Mass. Though Μhe mΗnΓΛ ΚΗle Αn college life has diminished from what it once was, they still consider ministry to the students at St. Leo University to be a major part of their mission.
The traditional borders within the abbey church are also absent. Typically, abbatial churches include metal railings that separate the monastic benches from the congregants.
These rails do not prohibit passage they are not solid, tall, or lacking in doors but their
122 presence is effectively symbolic: They convey quite clearly that there is a difference between those who can sit on one side of the rail, and those who are only allowed on the other side.
The church at St. Leo is devoid of this rail, another physical manifestation of their culture of openness. This is not merely a symbolic omission. The St. Leo monks invite guests to sit with them in the choir benches for the celebration of Mass.
A final act of openness worth noting is the abbeΡ Λ ΚelaΜΑΗnΛhΑΘ ΟΑΜh ΟΗmen. WhΑle ΑΜ was not explicitly stated at the other monasteries I visited, it was quite clear that women visitors were not permitted to stay at the abbey. The separation of sexes never seemed to be an issue, but no one I met ever seemed make an issue of it. Women who wanted to visit the monastery simply stayed at the convent nearby.157 At St. Leo, however, women were allowed to stay at the guesthouse, and couples were permitted to sleep in the same room. Women sat in the front benches during the Hours, in the monastic benches during Mass, and at tables with monks during meals. Benedict never specifically banned women from staying at the abbey, but one assumes that when he composed the Rule this was culturally implied. Today, this implication is less certain, but most monasteries (and convents, for that matter) continue
ΜΗ ΘΚacΜΑce ΜhΑΛ ΚΝle. SΜ. LeΗ Λ ΚeΒecΜΑΗn Ηf ΜhΑΛ ΑΛ unusual and surprisingly radical within the realm of Catholic monasticism. And yet no part of their allowance of women that I saw, anyway carried any sense of provocation or radicalism. It was a completely natural and relaxed practice, leading one to acknowledge its full cultural integration.
The monks at St. Leo do not face many of the traditional boundaries of monasticism, a fact that seems to have worked its way into the ethos of the abbey and into the psyches of the
157 Convents and monasteries are typically situated in pairs. Since women are unable to become priests at this time, and are thus unable to officiate Mass, they rely on the nearby monastic Priests to serve in this capacity. 123 monks themselves. This is demonstrated most clearly in their interactions with people, whether students at St. Leo, visitors like myself, or visitors like the many women I met at the abbey who stayed there without question. But openness runs contrary to orthodoxy and threatens to derail the very thing itself.
I could be wrong now … but I don’t think so.
I met Brother Christopher158 in the St. Leo Abbey gift shop. I was perusing their full offering, hoping to find books by St. Leo brothers or about the abbey. When I asked the monk working at the cash register if any such existed, he told me no, but that Christopher could tell me anything I wanted to know about the place. At this point, Christopher pulled me over to a large aerial drawing of the abbey that hung on the wall, and launched into a full explication of the history of St. Leo. The monks at St. Leo were exceedingly kind and generous with their conversation, and what began as a history lesson turned into a deep conversation about spirituality, monasticism, and ChΚΑΛΜΗΘheΚ Λ own spiritual journey.
He told me about the cow pasture across the street that had since been turned into a golf course the only one that he knew of without any sand traps. He talked about the influence of the Sisters of Holy Name Priory who arrived in that area months before the brothers, who paved the way for the monks to come and to take over instructional duties in the new college. He is a priest and as such makes daily trips to lead the sisters of Holy Name
Priory in the celebration of Mass, but he insisted ΜhaΜ he nΗΜ be ΚefeΚΚed ΜΗ aΛ FaΜheΚ becaΝΛe
158 Name changed to protect his identity. 124 he was first and foremost a brother at St. Leo. (An abbot he knows in Mexico refuses to be called anΡΜhΑng ΗΜheΚ Μhan brother, a story that inspired his own choice.) This was a point that he emphasized several times in statements like TheΛe aΚe mΡ brothers.
As so often happens in monasteries (and with monks in particular), matters of faith come up frequently. For me, these discussions always led to the awkward revelation that I am not Catholic, and that I was there, in essence, to study them. At the time I visited, I had been attending a Lutheran church regularly, which I told to Christopher when our conversation went that direction. Rather than simply tolerating this politely, Christopher expounded on the virtues of Martin Luther and the corruption of the Church at that time. It was a conversation I never expected to have at a monastery with a Catholic priest.
ChΚΑΛΜΗΘheΚ Λ ΑΛΛΝeΛ ΟΑΜh Μhe ChΝΚch ΟeΚe nΗΜ all rooted in its past, though. He told me that he disagreed with the Church on the issue of women priests, on gay marriage, and even on the very issue of salvation expressing that eternal life in heaven may be accessible to people outside the Christian faith. I looked over to see the reaction of the monk working the cash register, but he seemed unfazed bΡ hΑΛ bΚΗΜheΚ Λ ΚemaΚΓΛ. I wondered how many times
Christopher had heard this conversation, and whether or not this was a commonly held belief among the St. Leo monks. He justified his remark, saying, TheΡ dΗn Μ think that what
ΜheΡ Κe dΗΑng ΑΛ ΟΚΗng. TheΡ ΜhΑnΓ ΟhaΜ ΜheΡ Κe dΗΑng ΑΛ ΚΑghΜ ΜheΡ Κe ΒΝΛΜ people who have been misled. I was caught off-guard by his inclination to stand contrary to Church messaging, and by his willingness to discuss these issues with a stranger. Perhaps he knew that, because of my particular role there, I was not there to judge or challenge, but I wondered if he talked about these subjects with other visitors. His frankness, throughout our conversation, made the possibility seem likely. His message was unusual, unorthodox, and perhaps even un-
125
Catholic. I might have expected this to come from the mouth of a Universalist but not from a
Catholic priest.
I paid for the items that I had wanted to buy, and Christopher and I walked out together. As I made my way to my car, Christopher talked with me about one of his favorite religious commentators, Bill Maher: He haΛ ΛΗme gΗΗd ΜhΑngΛ ΜΗ ΛaΡ. I dΗn Μ agΚee ΟΑΜh all of it, bΝΜ he maΓeΛ ΛΗme gΗΗd ΘΗΑnΜΛ. We ΜalΓed abΗΝΜ the film Religulous, and I wondered whether Br. Christopher had access to an HBOgo account. I put my items in my car, and we talked a few minutes longer. He returned to the issue of the after-lΑfe. I ΒΝΛΜ ΜhΑnΓ GΗd Λ gΚace eΠΜendΛ ΜhΚΗΝgh hell, he ΜΗld me. I dΗn Μ ΜhΑnΓ anΡbΗdΡ Λ gΗΑng ΜheΚe. I cΗΝld be ΟΚΗng, bΝΜ I dΗn Μ ΜhΑnΓ ΛΗ … DΑd ΡΗΝ eveΚ ΟaΜch Monk? IΜ ΜΗΗΓ me a ΛecΗnd ΜΗ ΚealΑΣe ΜhaΜ he ΟaΛ
ΜalΓΑng abΗΝΜ Μhe TV ΛhΗΟ. Oh, that Monk … TΗnΡ ShalΗΝb, I ΚeΘlΑed, not sure where this conversation was headed. IΜ Λ lΑΓe Monk, he ΛaΑd, singing a lΑne fΚΗm Μhe Μheme ΛΗng: I could be wrong now bΝΜ I dΗn Μ ΜhΑnΓ ΛΗ. YΗΝ ΓnΗΟ? I cΗΝld be ΟΚΗng… BΝΜ I dΗn Μ ΜhΑnΓ
ΛΗ! I chΝcΓled, both at his assurance that he was correct, and at his access to cable television.
Christopher and I said our goodbyes; he walked back toward the church, and I drove away.
I don’t think they’ll check your ID.
During the week, the monks at St. Leo have Eucharist at 7:00 p.m. This is for all intents and purposes a daΑlΡ MaΛΛ, eΠceΘΜ ΜhaΜ bΡ callΑng ΑΜ EΝchaΚΑΛΜ, ΜheΡ have fΗcΝΛed in their minds and in the minds of the visitors the specific purpose for being there. Since my first day there was a Friday, I knew that I would be able to attend this service in the evening.
126
After the Evening Prayer, I went for a walk around the St. Leo campus, returning to the abbatial church about ten minutes before 7:00 p.m.
I simply wanted to observe what the monks did at this service, so as I had done earlier in the day, I found an uninhabited seat in a pew near the middle of the church. After I sat down, one of the monks who had been sitting in the choir stalls different from who had approached me earlier in the day looked over to me, stood up, and began walking towards me. Would he ask me about my recorder? My notebooks? I began to panic, wondering if I had done something offensive. I tried to read his face as he walked, but I was unable to. Finally, he approached me, and I looked up to catch his eye. In a voice that was louder than I had expected, he asked, WΗΝld ΡΗΝ lΑΓe ΜΗ ΛΑΜ ΝΘ Αn Μhe fΚΗnΜ? HavΑng gΚΗΟn ΝΘ Αn a Λmall
Methodist church, and then having been a college instructor, I felt aware of what was going on; the front seats are always vacant, and coercing people into them often requires human-to- human contact. Since my purpose there was not actually to partake in the Eucharist but simply to watch the monks and take notes, I politely declined, shaking my head and gesturing with my hands that I was okay. I felt guilty about my choice, but I also hoped not to draw too much attention to myself; it was clear that this monk thought (or at least, hoped) that I was there for a spiritual purpose, but I was there just to observe.
I smiled dumbly, trying to indicate in the quietest and nicest way possible that I was fine where I was. But the monk standing above me kept smiling back at me, gesturing for me to gather my belongings and come with him. Finally, I leaned in closer to the monk, and whispered, Sorry … Uh … I m nΗΜ CaΜholic … EΠΘecΜΑng ΜhΑΛ ΜΗ be Μhe end Ηf ΗΝΚ conversation, I leaned back into my ΘeΟ, ΛmΑlΑng aΜ Μhe mΗnΓ Λ geneΚΗΛΑΜΡ Ηf ΛΘΑΚΑΜ. But
127
ΑnΛΜead Ηf ΛaΡΑng VeΚΡ Οell, Μhen, ΗΚ ΛΑmΘlΡ leavΑng, he geΛΜΝΚed ΜΗΟaΚd hΑΛ bΚΗΜheΚΛ and Αn his louder-than-expected voΑce ΛaΑd, IΜ Λ ΗΓ I dΗn Μ ΜhΑnΓ ΜheΡ ll checΓ ΡΗΝΚ ID!
I was so taken aback by this that I laughed out loud and decided that I would follow this monk up to the front of the church. I gathered my bag, my journal, my pen, and my recorder, and followed him. But instead of stopping off at the front pew, he indicated that he wanted me to follow him up into the choir stalls. I hesitated; was this actually what he wanted me to do? Was this even allowed? Sensing my hesitation, he turned around and told me to sit in any of the open seats in the furthest row to the right. I noticed that there were other non- monks already sitting there, including several women. I walked toward a seat, and as I did, I tried to assess how I felt at that moment.
From the time I had begun to think about this project, I had hoped to chant with monks. I wanted to be a participant-observer in as true a way as one can. My time at Solesmes curbed my expectations; I knew that I would not be able to chant with them, so I found other ways of participating, even if those ways lacked the type of musicality and communal performance I had been looking for originally. But at St. Leo, at that moment, I was welcomed into the realm of performance albeit with a minimal, even reluctant, effort on my
part. I took in my surroundings; the bench
in front of me had little cubbies in the back
filled with books, papers, prayer cards,
cough drops, mints, and other small objects.
Fig. 4.3: Monastic Mississippis. Photograph by Taped to the bench near a lectern Author. microphone was a small sign reminding the
128 mΗnΓ ΜΗ CΗΝnΜ 3 MΑΛΛΑΛΛΑΘΘΑ beΜΟeen ΘaΚagΚaΘhΛ; 1 MΑΛΛΑΛΛΑΘΘΑ beΜΟeen lΑneΛ; 10 MΑΛΛΑΛΛΑΘΘΑ between the PΛalmΛ (Fig. 4.3).
I smiled, thinking how funny it was to be reminded of such a thing, and wondering what might have caused the posting in the first place. I sat down, feeling an odd sense of coziness in the hard wooden bench. A few monks looked down. A few made eye contact with me and smiled. A step at the far end of the benches leads up to the altar; along that step are a series of plug-ins, one had a USB charger still plugged in. I looked across the aisle at everyone sitting in the benches on the other side. Above them was a digital clock with the time. Mass began promptly at 7:00:00.
The Ordinary of the Mass was all sung in Latin. The music for these parts printed in traditional quadratic neumes was the same at every service I attended. This lack of variation enables anyone who attends more than a few times to feel comfortable enough to sing along.
The music itself was never of such a high quality that I felt compelled to listen to it as art, but because it was not too polished I never felt like an intruder for joining in. We all participated in the ritual together, and I felt my presence was gladly accepted, despite my tendency to make mistakes.
There was a joyousness that came from Mass at St. Leo; part of my observation was due to my own involvement in the ritual and getting to finally participate in this way, but others seemed to be similarly happy. The monks themselves, and the priest in charge of Mass, were instrumental in creating those feelings. Being in close proximity with these individuals, both the monks and the other laypeople, helped me empathize with their experience of Mass and helped me understand how they shaped the ritual. The monks had every reason to be bored; they had in all likelihood said parts of the Mass thousands of times. But only in rare
129 circumstances did I get a sense that the obligation of the monastic rhythm stifled the inherent joy of the ritual. Frankly, it was inspiring to witness a group of people who were not cynical about what they did, who seemed to be genuinely fulfilled by the routine.
As Mass neared its end, we offered signs of peace to one another. A few people came over to shake my hand; those who were too far away spread their fingers into a peace sign and waived it at their recipient a gesture that, coming from the Benedictines, added to their charm. During the Eucharist, I stood in line with my arms crossed over my chest and received a blessing from the priest.
Months later, as I thought about this moment, I wondered why I was motivated to receive a blessing during Communion, and why I had never done so in all the time I spent at
Solesmes. What motivated me in each case? Why had I acted in two drastically different ways?
Or, perhaps a better question to ask was: What had I re-acted to in each instance?
The answer, of course, was in the music but the music was really a manifestation of a larger cultural phenomenon. At Solesmes, it was possible for any visitor to be present without engaging in the community. Like my friend Francesco, who spent his time at every service alone in deep meditation, I could sit and simply listen and study from afar. Even if I was right up front, reading every word and bowing at every Gloria Patri, there was nonetheless an element of distance between me and the monks. They were working, and we were the witnesses to their work. By virtue of its beauty, their performance was not invitatory, because one dared not risk its ruin by inserting oneself unnecessarily. Separation, reinforced by the building itself, was also present in the level of engagement at Solesmes. At Mass, I felt perfectly comfortable staying in my seat during Communion, watching everyone around me stand and receive the Sacrament.
130
Unless one put forth a great amount of effort, one simply could not have been able to pass through St. Leo anonymously. At every service I went to, my participation was sought after in one way or another. As unpolished as their music could sometimes be, it was nonetheless conducive to my inclusion. I could sing in the pews and feel that I was, in my own way, contributing to the service. Likewise at Mass, I felt like I was being taken care of, watched over by the monks. They knew that I did not believe everything that they believed, but this was unimportant to them. Their invitation elicited my participation in two ways.
First, I felt that I was actively wanted up there, that they had given me permission to participate in the ritual with them. Secondly, a lack of participation would have seemed ungracious and uncomfortable. This is not to say that I felt guilted into participation, only that I was motivated by more than just my own desire to participate.
My experience at St. Leo is a perfect encapsulation of what makes Benedictine monasticism function so well: IΜ ΑΛ cΗmmΝnal, and Ηne Λ ΘaΚΜΑcΑΘaΜΑΗn ΑΛ mandatory. No matter how spiritually fulfilling it may be, monastic life is still work. It is time-consuming and physically draining. But being accountable to a group of people can be much more immediately real and motivating than being accountable to God. If a monk skips his private prayers or ceases to pray altogether, he might eventually feel spiritually empty. But if a monk skips a monastic Hour, he will be taken to task for his absence immediately. Even though punishment is no longer corporal, the response of an abbot is nonetheless visceral and tangible. Benedictinism is a form of spirituality that, like Catholicism, takes into account the human tendency to wander. Participation in ritual bears immediate rewards whether from the feeling of integration in a community, the endorphins produced from singing in a group, or a moment of unity with the divine.
131
Out of Sync
I ΟΗΓe ΝΘ eaΚlΡ Ηn PenΜecΗΛΜ SΝndaΡ ΜΗ aΜΜend MΗΚnΑng ReadΑngΛ, a ΛeΚvΑce ΜhaΜ essentially fulfills the same needs as Vigils and Matins. As one might expect, the scriptures recited during this service focused on Pentecost and the miracles described in the Book of
Acts. By the Sunday of my first visit, I was well acquainted with the communal style of worship at St. Leo. I found a seat in the front pew next to the helper monk, who by that time recognized me. We exchanged quiet hellos.
The monks at St. Leo chanted psalms and responsories differently from the monks at
Solesmes. Rather than singing antiphonally between the two sides of the monastic choir, the monks stood in a circle between the choir benches. Two monks stood at a microphone in the center of the circle. While the formation of the monks was as unified as possible, the outside group and inside group were vocally juxtaposed to one another. The congregation is asked to join with the outer circle of monks. As in every other ritual that I saw there, the St. Leo monks embodied an open ethos that exposed them and allowed visitors to join. Although it lacked the almost artistic invisibility and humility of the Solesmes style, it worked for them.
But my biggest takeaway from this service had nothing to do with unity or openness in fact, it was quite the opposite. Frankly, I was distracted by our musical performance. The lines sung by the larger group including most of the monks, and all of the congregants had major pitch issues. The music itself could not have been more straightforward: We were tasked with simply reciting passages on a single, unwavering pitch. Doing this without accompaniment, though, proved to be quite difficult, a fact that is likely unsurprising to anyone involved in amateur a cappella singing. While the two singers in the middle of the
132 circle were able keep to the same pitch relatively well, the rest of us rapidly descended in pitch. The larger group of singers descended by at least a quarter tone per line of text. I was especially aware of and distracted by this phenomenon. While our descending pitch was always noticeable, particularly during extended passages, it was never more pronounced than the transition, between our off-pitch group, and the correct-pitch small group. Aside from a few moments of heterophony, the two monks in the middle were remarkably steady with one another and focused on the original pitch. The juxtaposition of the two groups showed just how far off pitch we were; upon our completion of a passage, the two monks entered at a pitch that sounded drastically different from the one on which we had finished. As soon as it was our turn again, we would begin fresh on the pitch sung by the two monks, only to fall as we sang.
Though this type of singing did not take up the entire Morning Readings service, it was nonetheless a major distraction and, for me, overshadowed everything else. I searched for ways of explaining what I had experienced, and how one might interpret this musical phenomenon. I wondered how the monks might have been on their own would the circle of monks still have such a difficult time maintaining pitch? Would they recite the whole thing, like the two brothers in the middle, without incident? How did the congregation affect the worship? Did the monks notice this? Did the congregation notice it, or was I alone the sole auditory witness?
Of course I was not the only witness. The presence of the two monks in the middle made it clear that, at the very least, they were capable of sustaining a single pitch over the course of an extended recitation. It was clear that it was not the monks who lacked ability,
133 but the congregants who, by their number and inexperience, had power over the song of the monks.
The other questions are mostly irrelevant, because there is no real time in which there is no congregation. Everything about worship at St. Leo is geared towards the needs of the larger community, from the language, to the music, and even the times of worship. Musical imperfections, I suspect, are a sign that Μhe mΗnΓΛ mission in bringing in outsiders is fruitful.
But while recognizing this type of success, I also wonder about the monastic community itself. One would think that their openness would be inviting, but the paradox as heard in the music itself is that in appealing to the outside community, they are unable to focus on their monastic brotherhood. The St. Leo community has needs beyond the practical aspects of food, shelter, and mere existence with one another. When I made my first visit to St. Leo last
May, there were five novices men who had professed a temporary vow to join the community. By the time of my second visit three months later, that number had dwindled to just two.
I would argue that in allowing the participation of visitors, the monks never have a real opportunity to reach the ritualistic state of flow necessary that is necessary for communitas. We are too distracting a presence, our voices unable to unite in meaningful way.
Novices, who enter this community on temporary vows, are not given the deep sense of community that is necessary for sustained involvement, so they leave. It is a contradiction of their faith not to minister to outsiders. And yet, I worry that unless they focus on their own needs, they monks at St. Leo will soon lack a community to minister to, or their numbers will shrink to a size that will make it impossible for St. Leo the institution to minister at all.
134
Interview: Brother Stanislaw Sullivan
I got to know Brother Stanislaw especially well during my second visit to St. Leo. As I got to know him, I realized that he was the monk who, during my first visit, invited me to sit with the monks during Mass.
Like many of the monks at St. Leo, Br. Stanislaw was easy to talk with, but he was also fun. I got to know him most intimately during our meals. Unlike the meals at Solesmes, which were held in silence except for a single brother reading at a podium, meals at St. Leo felt like family dinners, with conversation filling the room. A large buffet was set up in the middle of the dining room, and monks, guests, and staff of the monastery all filled our plates.
WhΑle ΜheΚe ΟeΚe cleaΚlΡ mΗnΓ and gΝeΛΜ ΜableΛ, I nΗΜΑced gΝeΛΜΛ Ηn ΛeveΚal ΗccaΛΑΗnΛ sitting at the monk tables, and Br. Stanislaw always sat at the guest table.
In the months between my first and second visit, Br. Stanislaw took over as Abbey
Guest Master, a move for which he seemed especially fit. He filled this role gracefully, and I could not imagine a better representative for this monastery. During the first several meals I had there, I simply listened to him talk with the other guests. His knowledge was vast, and I was impressed by his memory for detail. Often at meals, guests would speak of experiences at other monasteries, each of which Stanislaw seemed to know intimately, with stories of their abbots, choirmasters, and other brothers whom he knew. His stories sometimes included moments of hushed, under-the-breath details that often ended in boisterous laughter. On only one occasion, after a lengthy discussion of politics that branched off into several unrelated tangents, did he reminded us (and himself) that dinner conversation was supposed to refrain from laughter and idle talk. But even as he said this, he was gentle with us; it was said in such
135 a way as to show us he was not personally insulted by this, but did not want other brothers to be upset by the laughter coming from our table. Even so, whatever our next topic of conversation was, it was likely to have branched off just as quickly. These dinner conversations were not stodgy or artificially confined to pious talk; they were organic and real. Our topics may have seemed inappropriate to some, but Stanislaw saw these as opportunities to be open and vulnerable, and to connect with us visitors.
From our first meeting, I knew that Br. Stanislaw would be a perfect person to interview; he was personable, honest, insightful, and had such a breadth of knowledge that I figured he could relate to virtually any topic. I soon realized that Stanislaw was also the choir director at St. Leo, and that of any of the monks, he would have the most intimate and expert knowledge of the music there.
Of course, I was interested in hearing Br. StaniΛlaΟ Λ vΑeΟΛ Ηn Μhe GΚegΗΚΑan repertoire and on the musical culture of his monastery. But I also understood that the questions that interested me at St. Leo were far different from those that I had asked at
Solesmes. In particular, I wanted to hear what Stanislaw had to say about how the St. Leo monks used music as a means to reach out to the broader community. As a classically trained musician and organist, I was also interested in his point of view about the quality of music at
St. Leo. It was quickly apparent to me that he had a very discerning ear and might have special insight into the musical problems I heard in services like the Morning Readings.
Br. Stanislaw and I met after lunch on my final day at St. Leo. We discussed a number of topics, but knowing that I was interested in music specifically, he often colored his responses with references to music and musical examples. Stanislaw clearly understood his audience and crafted his conversation accordingly, but this was not forced behavior. Having
136 spent many meals listening to Stanislaw talk, I can say that this was his natural way of conversing. His ability to connect one idea with another was always impressive, and even in conversation with non-musicians, he often referred back to musical examples. In our interview, though, these examples were more pointed.
I began with the normal formalities of all of the interviews I conducted. I had
Stanislaw read and sign the interview consent form. I watched as he read it and then set it aside. I looked at him, wondering if he expected something additional. Finally, almost sheepishly, he explained that they were not supposed to sign their names to anything without the permission of the abbot and asked if this was acceptable. I told him that yes, he was free to do this if he wished. I proceeded to ask if he would like to use a pseudonym, which he declined. He participated in the rest of the interview without any further questions.
My initial question was about performance mainly, how he defined this term, and
ΟheΜheΚ he cΗnΛΑdeΚed chanΜΑng ΜΗ be ΟΑΜhΑn ΜhaΜ Κealm. ThaΜ is a ΘeΚfΗΚmance, he ΛaΑd, bΝΜ claΚΑfΑed ΜhaΜ ΟhaΜ a ΛecΝlaΚ aΝdΑence mΑghΜ Λee Αn Μhe chΝΚch aΛ ΘeΚfΗΚmance ΑΛ ΟhaΜ Μhe church refers ΜΗ aΛ ΛΑmΘlΡ lΑΜΝΚgΡ. He ΑndΑcaΜed a ΘΚΑmaΚΡ dΑffeΚence, ΜhΗΝgh not necessarily in the place where it is performed but in its effect: AΛ he ΛaΑd, lΑΜΝΚgΡ ΛhΗΝld be done in such a way that it raises the mind[s of peΚfΗΚmeΚΛ and heaΚeΚΛ] ΜΗ GΗd. AlΜhΗΝgh he never used the specific term, I note here that this is perfectly in line with the notion of ars celebrandi discussed at the end of the previous chapter.
I was curious if he considered sacred music to fulfill a singular purpose no matter its context, or whether something like rehearsal was altogether different from liturgy. Stanislaw suggested that timing was crucial to his understanding of sacred music. Essentially, there are times dedicated specifically to liturgical prayer, and rehearsals fall outside of those times.
137
Terminology, he said, was also important in defining sacredness. Calling a certain time
ΚeheaΚΛal maΓeΛ it fundamentally different from Μhe ΜΑme ΜhaΜ he callΛ lΑΜΝΚgΡ. FΑnallΡ, he nΗΜed Μhe ΑmΘΗΚΜance Ηf Μhe mΝΛΑcΑan Λ ΑnΜenΜΑΗn. We Κe ΛΝΘΘΗΛed ΜΗ ΓeeΘ Αn mΑnd why Οe Κe practicing thΑΛ, ΛaΑd SΜanΑΛlaΟ. IΜ [mΝΛΑc and liturgy] is gΗΑng ΜΗ be gΑven bacΓ ΜΗ GΗd. IΜ Λ part of what monastics do; [rehearsal] is supposed to help us raise the level of what we do so
ΜhaΜ ΑΜ dΗeΛn Μ becΗme medΑΗcΚe. Everything in the liturgy should be rehearsed to make it a gift to God, he said. He suggested that everyone needed to practice their role, saying that even the incenser needed to know exactly how best to incense the sanctuary and the Holy
Sacrament. Stanislaw worried that neglecting to practice these things might disturb what he called Μhe ΗnΜΗlΗgΑcal Κealm, ΟhΑch he defΑned aΛ a Μhe mΡΛΜeΚΡ Ηf GΗd ΜhaΜ Ηne delveΛ
ΑnΜΗ Αn ΚΑΜΝal. Rehearsal could thus prepare individuals to fully express and explore this
ΗnΜΗlΗgΑcal Κealm Αn lΑΜΝΚgΑcal ΘeΚfΗΚmance. The nΗΜΑΗn Ηf mΡΛΜeΚΡ ΟaΛ ΑmΘΗΚΜanΜ ΜΗ
SΜanΑΛlaΟ Λ cΗnceΘΜΑΗn Ηf lΑΜΝΚgΡ. I think mΡΛΜeΚΡ Λ ΑmΘΗΚΜanΜ, he ΛaΑd. Quickly, though, he noted that mystery should not be the end goal of spirituality, but that it should lead to a biblical fear of God, consisting of respect for the holy and treading lightly on the things that have been passed down. I need we all need to have that fear of God. . . . I ΜhΑnΓ ΜheΚe Λ a
ΛaΡΑng ΜhaΜ gΗeΛ ΛΗmeΜhΑng lΑΓe, We dΗn Μ ΟanΜ ΜΗ gΗ ΟheΚe angelΛ feaΚ ΜΗ ΜΚavel. I ΜhΑnΓ
Οe ve dΗne ΜhaΜ Αn Μhe ΘaΛΜ, ΟΑΜh all Ηf Μhe eΠΘeΚΑmenΜaΜΑΗn Ηf VaΜΑcan II. We ΜΚΡ ΜΗ ΘΝΜ
ΗΝΚΛelveΛ . . . Ηn Μhe Λame Θlane aΛ GΗd.
The sin of pride was a thread that seemed to wind itself into every part of our conversation. As we discussed rehearsal and why monastics practice their work, Stanislaw said
ΜhaΜ ΜheΚe ΑΛ a ΜemΘΜaΜΑΗn fΗΚ ΑndΑvΑdΝalΛ ΜΗ elevaΜe ΜhemΛelveΛ ΜΗ Μhe Λame Θlane aΛ GΗd. I asked him how this related to reheaΚΛal, ΜΗ ΟhΑch he ΚeΘlΑed, [Rehearsal] brings us back to
138
Μhe cenΜeΚ. LΑΓe, WhΡ aΚe Οe dΗΑng ΜhΑΛ? . . . BecaΝΛe Οhen Οe gΑve bacΓ ΜΗ GΗd, Οe dΗn Μ want it to be junk. Refusal to practice is, essentially, is a refusal to admit that there is room for growth.
As we talked more, it became apparent that Stanislaw saw some type of pride as leading to the destruction of both liturgical prayer and monasticism in general. In particular, he focused on the specific idea of individualism as the greatest threat. Here is a portion of our conversation; he discusses how individualism is hurting the future of monasticism, connecting to several ideas to illustrate his point, and implicitly shows how communal-mindfulness is the only antidote.
STANISLAW: [The St. Leo monks] have been here 125 years. The first monks were mostly all from Bavaria. When they first came here, they had in mind that they were not going to go home to Bavaria, so they were really forced to make this home. But I think in our modeΚn ΛΗcΑeΜΡ, Οe Κe lΗΛΑng ΜhaΜ [Α.e., ΜhaΜ abΑlΑΜΡ ΜΗ ΘlanΜ ΚΗΗΜΛ Αn a single place].
BRIAN: Is that because travel is so easy and accessible? Or
S: Yeah, and I ΜhΑnΓ ΘeΗΘle have ΜhΑΛ Αdea ΜΗdaΡ ΜhaΜ Αf ΑΜ dΗeΛn Μ ΟΗΚΓ here, well, big deal. TheΚe Λ alΟaΡΛ ΛΗmeΜhΑng elΛe. And ΜhaΜ Λ ΚeallΡ ΜΗΗ bad becaΝΛe Οe have ΜΗ remember that we never do this [religious] life, or take the vows for ourselves; we have Μhe ΟΑdeΚ, lΗcal cΗmmΝnΑΜΡ, and Μhe ΟΑdeΚ chΝΚch. We Κe ΘaΚΜ Ηf ΛΗmeΜhΑng bΑggeΚ than us.
B: As a monk, do you think of yourself as more of an individual, or more of a member of a community, or are there times when you think of yourself as more of one or the other?
S: LeΜ Λ ΛΜaΚΜ ΟΑΜh mΗnaΛΜΑc lΑfe. I ΜhΑnΓ ΟhaΜ Λ ΓΑllΑng mΗnaΛΜΑc lΑfe is individualism. And ΑΜ Λ nΗΜ ΒΝΛΜ heΚe Αn Μhe UnΑΜed SΜaΜeΛ. IΜ Λ ΓΑllΑng Μhe abbeΡΛ Αn EΝΚΗΘe. When Οe begΑn ΜΗ Λee ΗΝΚΛelveΛ aΛ an ΑndΑvΑdΝal, Οe Κe lΗΛΑng hΝmΑlΑΜΡ. I ΟaΛ ΜalΓΑng ΜΗ Sister Roberta [Prioress at Holy Name Priory] about something, and Sister Roberta reminded me, Οe Κe nΗΜ heΚe ΜΗ dΗ ΗΝΚ ΗΟn ΜhΑng. We Κe hΝman beΑngΛ, and eveΚΡ nΗΟ and again, we might start to operate as an individual, but then we have to be pulled back, ΡΗΝ ΓnΗΟ? And ΜhaΜ Λ ΟhΡ ΑΜ Λ ΑmΘΗΚΜanΜ ΜhaΜ Οe ΛΝΚΚΗΝnd ΗΝΚΛelveΛ ΟΑΜh ΘeΗΘle
139 with community members that are not going to be afraid to say, Gee, ΡΗΝ Κe starting to act like an individual.
B: What is the impulse that causes people to think individualistically, and not communally? Do you have any insight into that?
S: Well, SΑΛΜeΚ RΗbeΚΜa ΛaΑd, YΗΝ gΗΜ Μhe DevΑl Ηn ΡΗΝΚ ΜaΑl! [BΚΑan laΝghΛ.] It all goes bacΓ ΜΗ Μhe hΝman cΗndΑΜΑΗn. I dΗn Μ ΓnΗΟ Αf I agΚee ΟΑΜh SΜ. AΝgΝΛΜΑne, ΟhΗ callΛ ΑΜ ΗΚΑgΑnal ΛΑn, bΝΜ ΜhΚΗΝgh Μhe fall Ηf ΗΝΚ fΑΚΛΜ ΘaΚenΜΛ ΜheΚe, ΛΗmeΟheΚe, Οe gΗΜ flawed. And creation as God intended it to be got flawed. So maybe we have this impulse, this temptation, ΜΗ ΛΜaΚΜ ΛaΡΑng ΜhaΜ Οe Κe nΗΜ beΑng ΚecΗgnΑΣed fΗΚ all Οe aΚe. And ΜhaΜ Λ always a bad and dangerous thing. I think we see that with the first followers the apostles. They were supposed to have known better, right? But Judas IΛcaΚΑΗΜ ΜΝΚned Ηn Μhem, becaΝΛe JeΛΝΛ ΟaΛn Μ ΟhΗ Judas thought the Messiah should be. We all get caught in the trap.
Now, a good example for us is Jesus Christ, and as monks, we profess the vow we call it conversatio morum the conversion of life and Οe Κe ΛΝΘΘΗΛed ΜΗ be ΟΗΚΓΑng Ηn trying to become like God. But not like the God in Heaven, because we get in trouble when we try to go there! [Brian laughs] But Οe Κe ΜΚΡΑng to be imitators of God on earth, when the Word became flesh, and took on everything of human nature, right? Everything but sin. Those gospels give us an example. Jesus came here, God humbles himself, and he teaches us how to live as we ought. And in the end which is real shocking Jesus simply teaches us how to die! He cΗΝld have, leΜ Λ face ΑΜ, vaΘΗΚΑΣed those who crucified him. But what good would it have done? You might have people that love God simply out of fear, or their free will would be taken over completely, and ΜheΡ d be lΑΓe a Λlave. GΗd dΗeΛn Μ dΗ ΜhaΜ. We [monks and Christians] are supposed to be doing the same thing. I'm supposed to be doing the same thing. I think ΑΜ Λ haΚd fΗΚ ΝΛ ΜΗ dΗ, and ΑΜ Λ geΜΜΑng haΚdeΚ, becaΝΛe ΛΗcΑeΜΡ ΑΛ ΚeallΡ ΜaΓΑng GΗd out of the picture, and Οe Κe all becΗmΑng ΑndΑvΑdΝalΛ.
And you know where you can see that? In the music. Somebody said to me Brother Timothy, this morning he ΛaΑd, WΗΟ, ΡΗu hear how instead of all singing the one note, like, it starts on fa, ΡΗΝ ll have ΘeΗΘle ΜhaΜ ll ΛΜaΚΜ hΑgheΚ ΗΚ lΗΟeΚ? That’s individualism. MaΡbe ΑΜ Λ nΗΜ aΘΘaΚenΜ ΜΗ ΛΗmeΗne ΟhΗ Λ nΗΜ a mΝΛΑcΑan. IΜ Λ veΚΡ hard when I have to speak to somebody and I have to say, you know, yoΝ Κe ΒΝΛΜ ΜΗΗ lΗΝd, ΗΚ ΜΗΗ ΛlΗΟ… TheΡ Κe totally offended by that, I mean
B: They take it personally instead of taking it as an opportunity to grow more in the community.
S: CΗΚΚecΜ. BecaΝΛe ΑΜ Λ all about ΑndΑvΑdΝalΑΛm and ΡΗΝ'Κe aΜΜacΓΑng. YΗΝ'Κe attacking them as an individual.
140
While it is human nature to want recognition, it is the duty of Christians (and especially monastics) to resist this urge. Christians, Stanislaw said, are to take as their primary example the person of Jesus, who gave up his godliness to become a humble human. But
Stanislaw understood that the world that values individualism is seeping into monastic life and is effectively eroding the spirit of community of the Church and monasticism. Finally, he asserted that the change from a culture of communal uplifting to one in which individuals fight for their own recognition is directly responsible for a decrease in the quality of music- making, citing a specific example from his own community.
Later in our interview, Stanislaw agreed that music was a reflection of the community that produced it, but he was reluctant to say that communal music-making could change a self-absorbed individual into a community-minded one. He implied that the power of individualism ΜΚΝmΘΛ Μhe ΘΗΟeΚ Ηf Μhe cΗmmΝnΑΜΡ, ΛaΡΑng aΜ Ηne ΘΗΑnΜ, Music should bring
ΝΛ ΜΗgeΜheΚ, bΝΜ ΑΜ dΗeΛn t always, ok? You can see it in our group every once in a while.
YΗΝ'll Λee Μhe mΗnΓ ΜhaΜ ΟanΜΛ ΜΗ ΛΜand ΗΝΜ Ηf Μhe cΑΚcle. When I aΛΓed ΟhΡ anΡΗne might want to resist the community, he answered bluntly, BecaΝΛe ΜheΡ Κe an ΑndΑvΑdΝal! AΛ I pressed for more clarification on this point, Stanislaw expressed the possibility that those individuals are simply bad listeners perhaps in an aural sense, but definitely ΛΘΑΚΑΜΝallΡ: WhΡ
Μhe hecΓ, Αf ΡΗΝ dΗn Μ lΑΓe ΜΗ ΛΑng and ΡΗΝ ΚefΝΛe ΜΗ blend Αn ΟΑΜh eveΚΡΗne elΛe, ΟhΡ ΟΗΝld you join an order where we sing the office? I mean, there are orders you can join where they dΗn Μ ΛΑng Μhe ΗffΑce. BenedΑcΜΑneΛ aΚe ΓnΗwn for liturgy. And they tweak the liturgies. . . .
BenedΑcΜΑneΛ ΟeΚe alΟaΡΛ ΟΗΚΓΑng Ηn ΜhΑΛ ΛΜΝff. HΑΛ ΘΗΑnΜ ΟaΛ valΑd: ΜhΗΛe ΟhΗ dΗ nΗΜ perform well in a musical community might have been better suited in an order that places less emphasis on music.
141
Stanislaw recalled a period in which he was in a choir in Poland, and he thought fondly of its members, who willingly allowed transformed themselves to be better communal music members. He contrasted this example by talking about the musical apathy he has witnessed in the United States. I wondered if perhaps this had to do with early music education. If young people were taught basic musical etiquette early in life, perhaps they would be more apt to behave well later in life? Stanislaw thought the issue was bigger than
ΛΑmΘle mΝΛΑcal ΜΚaΑnΑng, ΜhΗΝgh. I ΜhΑnΓ ΑΜ Λ an aΜΜΑΜΝde, he ΛaΑd. TheΚe Λ Ηne Θerson that comes to my mind who, when the person is corrected, he says, Well I ve ΛΝng Αn chΗΑΚΛ. BΝΜ each and every time, [he] destroys the chant becaΝΛe he Λ gΗΜ an aΟfΝl vΗΑce. YΗΝ can Μ even believe … I laΝghed, and he cΗnΜΑnΝed, I mean, hΑΛ voice is awful, yet he forces his way in.
And you know, in the monastery, we try to be charitable … But sometimes he pushes! BΡ this point, even Stanislaw was laughing ΜhΚΗΝgh hΑΛ ΟΗΚdΛ. YΗΝ ΓnΗΟ, ΗΝΜ ΜheΚe, he ΛaΑd, geΛΜΝΚΑng ΗΝΜΛΑde, ΡΗΝ can ΒΝΛΜ ΜhΚΗΟ ΜhΗΛe ΘeΗΘle ΗΝΜ Ηf Μhe chΗΑΚ! YΗΝ ΓnΗΟ?
BΝΜ ΡΗΝ can Μ dΗ ΜhaΜ heΚe! I ΙΝΑΘΘed.
NΗ! SΜanΑΛlaΟ anΛΟeΚed. NΗ, he ΚeΘeaΜed. OΝΚ laΝghΜeΚ dΑed a bΑΜ, and he became
ΛeΚΑΗΝΛ Ηnce agaΑn. Then ΡΗΝ have ΘeΗΘle ΜhaΜ try, bΝΜ ΒΝΛΜ can Μ ΛΑng. And ΜheΡ try, you
ΓnΗΟ? He Λeemed ΛΗmeΟhaΜ Λaddened bΡ hΑΛ ΛΜaΜemenΜ; ΑΜ ΟaΛ dΑffΑcΝlΜ ΜΗ Μell ΟheΜheΚ he was sad for those individuals, or for his choir, or for both. An earlier question kept nagging me: Could these negative qualities be remedied through music education early in life? The point had already passed, though, and I decided not to belabor it.
Although the toxic nature of individualism permeated much of our conversation, there was also a great deal of hopefulness as we talked about community at St. Leo. As I talked with him, I discussed how different St. Leo was from Solesmes, particularly how I felt like an
142 observer at Solesmes but a participant aΜ SΜ. LeΗ. Well, I go back to talking about the Second
VaΜΑcan CΗΝncΑl, he began. He eΠΘlaΑned hΗΟ Μhe CΗΝncΑl ΗΘened ΝΘ Μhe OffΑce ΜΗ all people not only by putting it into the vernacular but by demonstrating that it was not meant to be used solely by the monastic religΑΗΝΛ. PΚaΡeΚ ΑΛ neveΚ ΛΗmeΜhΑng ΜhaΜ Λ ΒΝΛΜ ΚeΛeΚved fΗΚ the monks or for the diocese or the clergy. IΜ Λ fΗΚ eveΚΡbΗdΡ. And Μhe OffΑce ΑΛ ΓnΗΟn aΛ Μhe
Christian prayer Μhe ΘΚaΡeΚ Ηf Μhe ChΝΚch. SΗ Αf ΑΜ Λ eΠclΝΛΑve, he ΛaΑd, ΟΑΜh a ΛlΑghΜ nΗd Ηf undersΜandΑng ΜΗ mΡ eaΚlΑeΚ cΗmmenΜΛ, ΜhaΜ Λ nΗΜ ΟhaΜ VaΜΑcan II ΑnΜended ΑΜ ΜΗ be. He leΜ hΑΛ ΘΗΑnΜ ΛΑnΓ Αn fΗΚ a mΗmenΜ. If we start thinking about this music as performance, we lose our aim because then we forget about prayer. It turns into just rules and regulations, and you have ΜΗ have ΛΘecΑal ΘaΛΛΟΗΚdΛ, Αf ΡΗΝ ΟΑll, ΗΚ ΡΗΝ can Μ ΜaΓe ΘaΚΜ. Of cΗΝΚΛe, ΜheΚe ΟeΚe nΗ actual passwords at Solesmes, but praying the Office belonged to an exclusive realm.
I remarked that St. Leo felt very open to me in comparison, and how I could tell that they hoped to extend the monastic community out into the lay community. Stanislaw attributed this the abbot aΜ SΜ. LeΗ, AbbΗΜ IΛaac. I ΜhΑnΓ AbbΗΜ IΛaac ΓeeΘΛ Αn mΑnd, Οe ΟeΚe reminded at Vatican II that the church is made ΝΘ Ηf Μhe ΘeΗΘle. ThaΜ Λ ΟhΡ Οe ΜΚΡ ΜΗ ΑnvΑΜe
Μhe ΘeΗΘle ΜΗ ΘΚaΡ ΟΑΜh ΝΛ, ΡΗΝ ΓnΗΟ? IΜ Λ a ΜeΚΚΑble ΜhΑng ΜΗ have them and us. Again, the
Church is the people. HΑΛ cΗmmenΜΛ ΚemΑnded me Ηf mΡ fΑΚΛΜ evenΑng aΜ SΜ. LeΗ and Μhe invΑΜaΜΑΗn I ΚeceΑved fΚΗm Ηne Ηf Μhe bΚΗΜheΚΛ ΜΗ ΛΑΜ ΝΘ fΚΗnΜ fΗΚ MaΛΛ. I ΜhΑnΓ I ΛaΑd ΜhaΜ ΜΗ
ΡΗΝ! SΜanΑΛlaΟ eΠclaΑmed. YeaΚΛ agΗ, I ΝΛed ΜΗ ΜhΑnΓ ΑΜ ΟaΛ ΒΝΛΜ ΜhaΜ SΜ. LeΗ ΟaΛ ΟelcΗmΑng, he began. Then, I ΟaΛ famΑlΑaΚΑΣed ΟΑΜh AmeΚΑcan-Cassinese CongregaΜΑΗn. The AmeΚΑcan-
Cassinese Congregation is an association of Benedictine monasteries in the United States, all with some tie to Saint Vincent Archabbey, the first Benedictine monastery in the United
States. The Congregation was founded by Boniface Wimmer, the first Benedicine monk to
143 cΗme ΜΗ Μhe UnΑΜed SΜaΜeΛ. TheΚe ΟaΛ a ΛΘecΑfΑc ΘΝΚΘΗΛe ΟhΡ ΜhΑΛ BenedΑcΜΑne came,
SΜanΑΛlaΟ eΠΘlaΑned, and ΜhaΜ ΟaΛ ΜΗ ΟΗΚΓ ΟΑΜh Μhe GeΚman ΑmmΑgΚanΜΛ. He ΟaΛ a gΗΗd monk, so immediately, he built a monastery. But because the Benedictines that Boniface founded were working with the immigrants, they had to take all of those walls down, if you
ΟΑll. ThaΜ Λ been handed dΗΟn, fΚΗm 1846 ΚΑghΜ ΜΗ Μhe ΘΚeΛenΜ.
SΗ ΡΗΝ ΜhΑnΓ ΑΜ Λ a ΜΚadΑΜΑΗn Ηf ΗΘenneΛΛ? I aΛΓed.
Oh Ρeah, SΜanΑΛlaΟ ΚeΘlΑed. Then Μhe CΣechΛ ΛΜaΚΜed ΜΗ cΗme, and ΡΗΝ ΟΗΝld fΑnd all of the sudden, up in Chicago, St. Procopius [Abbey] was opened for the Czechs. . . .
TheΚe Λ cΗnΛΜanΜlΡ been ΜhaΜ ΗΘenneΛΛ, and I Λee ΜhaΜ heΚe ΟΑΜh Μhe ΟaΡ AbbΗΜ IΛaac haΛ ΗΝΚ liturgy scheduled. It makes it user-friendly for the students and staff at the University. We maΡ nΗΜ be ΟΗΚΓΑng ΟΑΜh ΑmmΑgΚanΜΛ, bΝΜ Οe Κe helΘΑng ΘeΚfΗΚm and ΟΗΚΓ ΟΑΜh ΛΜΝdenΜΛ.
There was a vibrancy to Stanislaw as he discussed the history of his monastery and the larger Congregation. I probed for more information about the students who come to the
OffΑce. DΗ ΡΗΝ ΘΚefeΚ mΗΚe ΘeΗΘle, ΗΚ feΟeΚ ΘeΗΘle? DΗeΛ ΑΜ maΜΜeΚ ΜΗ ΡΗΝ?
He ΚeΛΘΗnded eneΚgeΜΑcallΡ: I lΑΓe ΜΗ Λee Μhe ΛΜΝdenΜΛ, and I ll Μell ΡΗΝ Οhy: Because
Οhen ΡΗΝ Λee Μhe ΡΗΝng ΘeΗΘle, ΜhaΜ Λ a ΛΑgn Ηf hΗΘe. The ΡΗΝng ΘeΗΘle aΚe a ΛΑgn Ηf Μhe future of the Church, and when they have an interest in the monastic lΑfe, ΜhaΜ Λ Μhe fΝΜΝΚe Ηf the abbey. You have to remember, with Benedictines, or any religious for that matter, this is my home. And for Benedictines, we have that vow of stability, which means that wherever you enter, that is your community for life. SΗ, gee, I dΗn Μ ΟanΜ ΜΗ Λee SΜ. LeΗ clΗΛe! I dΗn Μ
ΟanΜ ΜΗ have ΜΗ gΗ ΜΗ SΜ. VΑncenΜ Λ, for example. . . . And I feel that the monks of old have left me a legacΡ ΜhaΜ I need ΜΗ ΘaΛΛ Ηn, ΡΗΝ ΓnΗΟ?
144
The Legacy of St. Leo
The night before our interview, I had sat down at the dinner table where Br. Stanislaw was sitting. He turned to me, looking serious but with a slight smile. He spoke directly to me,
ΝndeΚ hΑΛ bΚeaΜh: YΗΝ ΓnΗΟ, ΘeΗΘle have been aΛΓΑng me, WhaΜ ΑΛ he dΗΑng heΚe? IΛ he checΓΑng ΝΛ ΗΝΜ?
I ΛΜaΚed aΜ hΑm, ΝnΛΝΚe Ηf hΗΟ ΜΗ ΚeΛΘΗnd. WhaΜ dΑd he mean bΡ checΓΑng ΝΛ ΗΝΜ ?
Did the monks think I was there to try to expose something? Did they see my notebook and recorder and think I was crafting a report to wipe them away? I felt myself tense up with adrenaline as I wondered what Stanislaw had been hearing about me. Had they not recognized my very genuine attempt to get to know them? Had they thought that my participation in their rituals was excessive, or fake, or that I had some ulterior motive? I had hoped to gain their trust so I could help tell the story of their community. Had I misrepresented myself? My mind then turned to Stanislaw: Was he in trouble from the monks because of me? Was he going to tell me that the brothers had agreed that I should not be there anymore? A flood of questions poured through my mind.
BefΗΚe I cΗΝld ΚeΛΘΗnd, he leaned Αn clΗΛeΚ. DΗn Μ ΟΗΚΚΡ I already told them that
ΡΗΝ lΑved Αn TallahaΛΛee, he ΛaΑd, hΑΛ vΗΑce ΚΑΛΑng ΜΗ a laΝghΜeΚ, and ΜhaΜ ΡΗΝ Κe maΚΚΑed! IΜ took me a second to realize what he meant. The monks had not felt threatened by me; they had ΟΗndeΚed Αf I ΟaΛ checΓΑng Μhem ΗΝΜ ΜΗ seek a monastic vocation at St. Leo. Some of them had not yet realized that I was just non-Catholic, married, musicologist. My sense of defensiveness gave way to a feeling of relief, and I began laughing at their confusion, and mine. But as quickly as I had found humor in the situation, I was overcome with a distant
145 feeling of guilt. Novices bring with them a sense of hopefulness since they represent the continuation of the monastic institution. Perhaps my efforts to assimilate were too convincing, because I had given many in this community a false sense of hope.
The next morning, as I stood at the breakfast buffet table, I was engaged in conversation by a young novice named Lucius. When I had visited the monastery in May, he had been one of the five young men who had joined the community; by September, Lucius was one of two who were left. He had been at a conference for most of the weekend, which he briefly talked about as we picked out our food.
SΗ, aΚe ΡΗΝ enΒΗΡΑng ΡΗΝΚ ΛΜaΡ heΚe? he aΛΓed.
Oh Ρeah, defΑnΑΜelΡ, I ΚeΘlΑed.
DΗ ΡΗΝ ΜhΑnΓ ΡΗΝ ll be cΗmΑng bacΓ? he aΛΓed.
DefΑnΑΜelΡ, I ΚeΛΘΗnded, I lΗve ΑΜ heΚe. We ended ΗΝΚ cΗnveΚΛaΜΑΗn, and I ΟenΜ ΜΗ sit at the dining table. I realized that I meant what I said; while I found certain aspects of life at
St. Leo to be problematic, I really did enjoy being there.
Brother Stanislaw was already sitting at my breakfast table, with a wide grin across his face. He ΜhΑnΓΛ ΡΗΝ Κe Αnterested in becoming a brother! he ΛaΑd ΜΗ me, barely containing his laughter. I contemplated the conversation I had had with Lucius, and determined that
Stanislaw could very well be correct. I had never intended to be a monastic tease, but it seemed that I had done so inadvertently.
If something like this happened at one of the other monasteries I visited, I was none the wiser. There were, in fact, visitors at those monasteries who were seeking vocations or contemplating monastic life, and it was very clear by both their demeanor and that of the monastic brothers that they were there for that purpose.
146
I ΟΗndeΚed abΗΝΜ Μhe SΜ. LeΗ bΚΗΜheΚΛ ΑnΜeΚeΛΜ Αn me. I ΜhΗΝghΜ about Michael
AngΚΗΛΑnΗ Λ aΚΜΑcle and about what Stanislaw had told me during our conversation. I think that, more than the other two monasteries I visited, St. Leo is aware of its own fragility, and they are trying desperately to sustain the institution of their Central Floridian monastery.
While the number of monks at Solesmes is smaller than in the past, their particular role in the history of Benedictinism all but ensures their continued prominence. As I will show in the following chapter, Clear Creek Abbey in Oklahoma is thriving in its nascent stage; the brothers there have been brought together not only by their shared faith and complex system of ritual, but also by the communitas-creating trial of building both spiritually and physically a new monastery. The monks at St. Leo have neither the prominence of Solesmes nor the trials of Clear Creek that necessarily gather people together. The trials that St. Leo has faced cultural and hierarchical integration, questions of how to respond to Vatican II, and the gradual giving-up of their University are the types of trials that dissolve rather than solidify communal bonds. Their primary mission was not to sustain a community, or to create one from the ground up, but to move beyond the pain and hurt that had so disrupted their community in past generations.
Their greatest hope aside from the faith they profess is in the introduction of young people who are open-minded, willing to take on the tumultuous past, and open to the types of personal sacrifice necessary to build a strong community. I suspect that if the St. Leo monks use the Office as their litmus test, they will find a new generation of brothers who can create the atmosphere of communal brotherhood that their community desperately needs.
147
CHAPTER FIVE
LIKE SOLESMES IN OKLAHOMA : OUR LADY OF THE ANNUNCIATION OF CLEAR CREEK ABBEY
The monks at Our Lady of Clear Creek Abbey say Vespers early on Sundays. The service had just ended, and I resolved to use the hour before dinner to make a trip into town to buy some medicine. Eastern Oklahoma is notorious for its end-of-summer pollen count, and I could feel the onset signs of hay fever. I knew that if I left at that moment, I could probably drive to the Dollar General and get back to the monastery before dinner began.
When I got to my car, I was stopped by two women. We were just saying how much we love the color of your car! Periwinkle blΝe! the older of the two said to me. I smiled, and explained to them that it was just a rental, that I was just visiting from Florida. Well, leave it to the locals to get excited about the color of a caΚ! she replied. This older woman was very short, with braided white hair, lively blue eyes, and a beautiful smile. The other woman was taller; she had a short bob of brown hair, and seemed shyer than her friend, though no less kind. The older of the two referred to herself only as Mrs. Z. IΜ Λ hard to ΘΚΗnΗΝnce, she explained about her last name, and Mrs. Z is so memΗΚable! The other woman introduced herself as Mary and shook my hand graciously.
I knew that I needed medicine, but I was so compelled by the kindness of these two strangers that I decided in that moment that I could wait. WheΚe do you lΑve? I asked.
Well, I live over that mΗΝnΜaΑn, Mary said, pointing to her left, and she lives over that
148 mΗΝnΜaΑn, pointing to her right. I sensed a backwoods affectation in MaΚΡ Λ voice, a type of disingenuousness she puts on to show strangers that she understands the outside perceptions of her home. It would be easy to think of her as sarcastic or even cynical, but her unceasingly tender demeanor betrayed any verbal cues to the contrary. MaΚΡ Λ home is just two miles from the abbey, and is actually located on the other edge of the property; Mrs. Z lives about 5 miles away. When I asked Mary if she walked to the monastery, she replied, Well, I can Μ. I must have looked quizzical, because she bluntly offered, BecaΝΛe I m a ΟΗman. She explained that the area between her home and the monastery is cloistered property. FaΜheΚ
Abbot could change it, if he wanted ΜΗ, she said matter-of-factly. I watched her, wondering if she would give any indication of anger or cynicism; she offered neither and seemed content with both the abbot Λ decision and her place as a woman.
DΑd you both grow up in this area? I asked, and they both responded nΗ. Mrs. Z said she moved here from Kansas City. I wondered what might bring someone to rural
Oklahoma, to which she responded, When I heard the monks were coming here, I moved
ΑmmedΑaΜelΡ! She paused for a second before adding, I got here in early 1999 I was waiting for them when they got heΚe! I turned to Mary. And ΡΗΝ? I asked. MΡ husband and I lived in CalΑfΗΚnΑa, she said. I asked her if she moved here because of the monks, too.
TheΚe Λ no other reason to move to a place like ΜhΑΛ! she said, again, joking. I was tickled by her response, because I secretly had a similar thought as I drove out to the monastery on my first day. She gestured out with her hands, TheΚe Λ nothing around heΚe. This was, in fact, not totally true. While that part of the state offers little in terms of industry or job diversity, it is excellent for farming, if one can manage the hills. And, for someone whose only impressions of Oklahoma were formed by The Grapes of Wrath and the musical, I found it to
149 be surprisingly beautiful. I could understand why the monks would choose a place like this for their abbey.
Mrs. Z followed up on MaΚΡ Λ statement. EveΚΡΗne who lives around here moved here because of the mΗnΓΛ, she said, earnestly. When I asked her if she was serious, she indicated yes. We Κe like a monastic village out heΚe! she exclaimed, joyful to be part of the community. I was shocked that these two women and apparently many others would uproot their lives to move to a place they both considered the middle of nowhere, just to be close to a monastery. I turned back to Mary to ask a question that I hoped would not seem insulting: YΗΝ moved from California do they not have monks ΜheΚe? NΗΜ like ΜhΑΛ, she replied. TheΛe guys ... she trailed off, deep in thought. I watched her searching for the right words, and then she locked eyes with me, TheΡ Κe the real deal. Mrs. Z chimed in, The liturgy, the music, is perfect. Day in, day out, ΜheΡ Κe not going to pull it out from under
ΡΗΝ. I watched her as she spoke; she was entranced by the deep spirituality of this place, of these people, and of the liturgy itself. These things clearly brought a joy to her life that was almost unspeakable. I nodded, impressed with the contentment of her faith here. IΜ Λ like
Solesmes, in Oklahoma, she said.
Introduction
Our Lady of the Annunciation of Clear Creek Abbey, or Our Lady of Clear Creek, is located about an hour and a half east of Tulsa, including about a half hour of country and gravel roads. While it is technically within the township of Hulbert, that town is a good 20-30 minutes away; it has a Dollar General, a Subway, a few gas stations, and a post office. The
150 monastery is more isolated than any other I have been to; its placement says much about the monks who live there.
The monastery at Our Lady of Clear Creek was founded in 1999 by a group of monks who had been living at the Benedictine monastery in Fontgombault, France. The modern use of that monastery began in 1948, when the monks of Solesmes re-established contemplative
Benedictine life there. It was raised to Abbatial status in 1953.159 Thus, the monastery at Clear
Creek is a granddaughter of the Solesmes congregation the only institution in the United
States with this direct lineage.
Fr. Abbot Philip Anderson discussed this founding in a TV interview on Catholic cable network EWTN. In the 1970s, a group of Catholic converts all who had been part of the humanities program at the University of Kansas had decided to found a monastery in the
United States. Most of their understanding of monastic life was based on the monasteries already established in the United States, which were founded to start schools or live some other active mission. The instructors within their humanities program intervened:
Our professors thought it would be better to have a contemplative monastery in the old mold of antique monastic life, which is prayer and work. And so two of these students went off around the world looking and they found a place in France that seemed just the right place. . . . Many of us wound up going over there, and some stayed.160
159 L abbaΡe BenedΑcΜΑne, Αn http://fontgombault.pagesperso-orange.fr/abbaye.htm (Accessed 20 September 2015). 160 CleaΚ CΚeeΓ AbbeΡ Ηn EWTN LΑve 2014 2 26 FΚ PhΑlΑΘ AndeΚΛΗn, YΗΝTΝbe vΑdeΗ, 56:35, fΚΗm Μhe ΜelevΑΛed ΘΚΗgΚam EWTN LΑve, ΟΑΜh MΑΜch PacΟa S. J., ΗΚΑgΑnallΡ bΚΗadcaΛΜ FebΚΝaΚΡ 26, 2014. PΗΛΜed bΡ CleaΚCΚeeΓ MΗnΓ MaΚch 1, 2014, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-0bNJJPJlaM.
151
Many of these Americans took their vows at Fontgombault, with one major stipulation: they would eventually return to the United States to found a new monastery. After spending over two decades at Fontgombault, six of these monks from Kansas, along with seven other monks from Canada, the United States, and France, established Our Lady of Clear Creek. In this light, Mrs. Z Λ statement that this is lΑΓe Solesmes, in OΓlahΗma is not hyperbolic, but rather, aware of the rich heritage of this particular congregation. But of course, there is more to her comment than a simple knowledge of history.
Clear Creek is noticeably similar to Solesmes. It is simple, quiet, and austere. The monks are typically taciturn and live according to a fairly strict interpretation of BenedΑcΜ Λ
Rule. The buildings all constructed since the thirteen founders arrived in 1999 have yet to be completed. But even in their unfinished states the intentions behind the bΝΑldΑngΛ construction are clearly in line with the medieval styles of their ancestors. The central structure, of course, is the abbatial church a building whose broad exterior and sandy color cut through the Oklahoman wilderness from far away. When I visited, men were working on large main doors in the center of the façade; for now, the sanctuary is accessible through a normal-sized door on the left. The inside of the sanctuary is dark, even when lit. The floors are unfinished, and a temporary roof is underlaid with numerous beams of wood. The choir stalls sit behind an iron gate, similar to the one at Solesmes. Presently, the stalls are exposed, but one of the monks told me that additional walls will soon extend from the middle of the church to hide the monks. The monks enter the stalls from a doorway between the stalls and the altar; this doorway leads to what they call their enclΗΛΝΚe their cloistered space. Guests are asked not to enter into that space. The altar itself appears far beyond the choir stalls at the east end of the church; its plainness feels similar to the interior of the church itself.
152
Below the main sanctuary is a crypt. Compared to the main sanctuary, this space is smaller but very bright with white walls and ceiling. Eight enclosed chapels four on each side line the two side-walls of the crypt. This space is finished and air conditioned, and is used especially when the heat makes the church itself too uncomfortable. Its small space does not carry the sound of chant as well as the large sanctuary, but when it is used for the Office, the lack of reverb actually showcases just how blended the mΗnΓΛ voices are. I was told that this subterranean space also serves as the tornado shelter for the monks and the residents in the area.
A second building extends from the south wall of the sanctuary and is connected to the church building via a hallway. The first floor of this building contains two smaller studies, a larger room where the monks rehearse their music, and the dining hall. Guests stay in rooms on the second and third floors, and the fourth is reserved for monks. Another building the
gaΜehΗΝΛe extends from the west end of the guesthouse, just to the side of the church.
These buildings are not connected indoors, but an outdoor corridor connects them.
The outdoor halls accessible to guests reminded me of those at Solesmes that, while cloistered, were still visible on our daily walks to the dining hall. The dining hall itself also reminded me of Solesmes, though the Clear Creek space was much smaller. Meals at Clear
Creek are served in the same manner as at Solesmes, but the Clear Creek monks subsist primarily on food that they have farmed themselves. The simplicity of these meals at times reminded me of Solesmes, although I found myself wishing for the copious amounts of butter offered in France. There was a level of thoughtfulness, of deliberateness, and of sophistication that I recognized from my time at Solesmes. My recent trip to St. Leo and its very different
153 approach to monastic life made me all the more aware of Clear CΚeeΓ Λ resemblance to
Solesmes.
The monastic rhythm at Clear Creek is as rigorous as Solesmes, if not more so. The monks begin Matins at 5:15am or earlier on Sundays or Holy Days and continue directly into Lauds. The end of Lauds elides with the beginning of Low Mass around 7:00 a.m. The monks celebrate Prime at 8:00 a.m., after which the monks and visitors eat breakfast together.
Thus, monks who begin with Matins work almost three solid hours first thing in the morning differing from the Solesmes approach which allows a reasonably lengthy break between Matins and Lauds, and which omits Prime (and the Low Mass) altogether. Like the
Solesmes monks, those at Clear Creek preface High Mass by chanting Terce at 10:00 a.m.
They say Sext at 12:50 p.m., followed promptly by lunch. They pause for a brief time between lunch and None, which takes place at 2:35 p.m. most days. Most of the monks work during the extended break in the Office between the end of None and Vespers, which begins at 6:00 p.m. on most days (5:00 p.m. on Sundays). Supper is served at 7:30 on most days, and
Compline follows at 8:35. I felt exhausted after my first full day there, and while I tried to adjust to this specific monastic rhythm, I had little success.
Like Solesmes, Clear Creek Abbey is characterized by a deep silence.161 Very little sound from the rest of the world makes its way to Clear Creek. I heard the occasional bark, chirp, gust of wind, and clap of thunder, but these have little effect of their own. Instead, they call attention to how unusually isolated and quiet the monastery is. In the darkness of morning, a quick buzz sounds through the hallways as a wake-up call a sound that prefaces
161 This may not be the case forever. The monks hope to one day have a central air conditioner in their sanctuary, the sound of which, one would assume, might alter this particular soundscape. 154 every event for the whole day. As the monks chant the Magnificat at Lauds, the church bells are rung calling all visitors, nearby residents, and slow-to-wake monks to Low Mass at dawn.
In the stillness of morning, the sounds of the neΑghbΗΚΛ cars driving down gravel roads carry for miles.
The most obvious similarity between the grandmother and granddaughter monasteries is their music. This similarity goes beyond the sung notes and permeates every musical element: the cadence, rhythm, and tempo of the chanted psalms; the texture and timbre of the mΗnΓΛ voices; the sense of breath controlled, meditative, relaxed in every utterance. These qualities speak not only to the amount of time these men have lived with this music, but also to the strength of the meshwork that connects them. Many of them learned this music in the decades they spent at Fontgombault within a monastic habitus that was intimately connected to the Solesmes Abbey. The meshwork of Clear Creek and its connection back to its monastic ancestors is unmistakable in the sounds of every chanted prayer, psalm, verse, and canticle. The basics of this music can be learned almost instantaneously; it is not terribly complex, and any reasonably talented musician could sing the melodies with little rehearsal.
But the nuance present in the music at Clear Creek is the result of a lifetime of daily work.
The real beauty, moreover, is not simply in the music but in its communal expression. Their musical unity is a clear reflection of the strength of their community.
. . .
155
The McFaddens
The men of the McFadden family had been staying at the monastery since Saturday. It was now Monday evening, and this was the first time I had spoken with the father. His youngest son, around six years old, was standing nearby; another son, about fifteen, was in a nearby hall.
We introduced ourselves and exchanged pleasantries; of course we had seen each other many times before then, but introductions rarely happen quickly. They require patience and time. After we finished this formality, I steered the conversation into an unusually sensitive subject. I had seen his entire family, including his wife and daughters, at Mass on Friday.
IΜ was your son who took his vows the other daΡ? I asked.
TemΘΗΚaΚΡ, Ρeah, he said.
HΗΟ are you all doing with that? I asked. I could tell he was a bit uncomfortable, but I also got the feeling that he did, in fact, want to talk more about this.
Oh, ΗΓaΡ, he responded, pausing for a moment. He made a slight gesture toward his young son. The little ones are having a tough time with ΑΜ, he said, lowering his volume slightly. In addition to his youngest son, the family also has several young daughters who were staying elsewhere. I shook my head in understanding. TheΡ dΗn Μ quite understand
ΟhaΜ Λ going on, why he has to leave, he said, trailing off a bit. And ΑΜ Λ hard, you know. He has to renounce us as his parents, you ΓnΗΟ? I dΗn Μ know if this was something that he had said out loud before, and he immediately tried to justify his ΛΗn Λ choice. And, you know, ΑΜ Λ for JeΛΝΛ, he said, trying to make sense of his new-found place in his ΛΗn Λ life.
156
I continued Mr. McFadden Λ thought, BΝΜ ΑΜ Λ still a really difficult thing to go
ΜhΚΗΝgh.
Yeah, he responded. He seemed distant, and I was unable to tell if this was his usual demeanor, or if this was heightened because of our conversation. BΝΜ, he added, ΑΜ Λ his choice to make, he Λ an adult. We raised him, and Οe Κe proud of his chΗΑce.
HΗΟ old is he? I asked.
TΟenΜΡ-ΜhΚee, he responded.
ThaΜ Λ a pretty big decision at that age, I responded.
Before we could continue, Br. Bachmann came and retrieved us for dinner. We walked silently into the dining hall. The McFaddens were all seated on one side of the table. Behind them, at another table, sat the eldest son, the newest brother at Our Lady of Clear Creek
Abbey.
Professio Temporaria
Typically, the acolytes, incensers, and priests enter into the sanctuary after the office of Terce, and Mass begins immediately afterward. On Friday, after the brothers had said
Terce, they filed out slowly, two by two. They processed to the front of the sanctuary, turning right at the altar, and walked out of the building. Those in the audience read along in the small booklet that was offered before Mass began.
A large family mother and father, three girls, two boys was gathered in the front right pew. The father carried a large camera around his neck. As the monks filed out, the father and his two sons stood up and went to the right side of the iron gate that divided the
157 sanctuary. A single monk came back to the gate, and opened it for them. They followed the monks out of the church.
We were witnessing the Professio temporaria the profession of temporary vows by a novice. This rite holds special significance to the Benedictine order, because with it comes the hope that the monastery will extend beyond itself once more. Temporary vows do not hold quite as much weight as the perpetual or solemn vows taken some three years later; a monk is free to leave at any point before taking the final vows. But the temporary vows indicate more than just interest they indicate intention and the true seeking out of a religious life.
This rite is broken up into two parts: the first part, the part that the monks were leaving for at that moment, is private. It is intended only for the brothers and the male members Ηf Μhe nΗvΑce Λ famΑlΡ. All these men file into the chapter room together. According to the booklet that had been distributed before everything had begun, the novice prostrates himself in the middle of the chapter room. In Latin, the abbot aΛΓΛ FΗΚ ΟhaΜ dΗ ΡΗΝ aΛΓ? ΜΗ
ΟhΑch Μhe nΗvΑce ΚeΛΘΗndΛ, The meΚcΡ Ηf GΗd and fΚaΜeΚnΑΜΡ ΟΑΜh ΡΗΝΚ cΗmmΝnΑΜΡ. The abbot asks the novice to rise from his prostration, but the novice remains in a kneeled posture. The abbot then presents two garments to the novice, the religious habit and plain clothes, and asks hΑm ΜΗ ChΗΗΛe befΗΚe GΗd and hΑΛ SaΑnΜΛ ΜhΗΛe ΟhΑch ΡΗΝΚ heaΚΜ deΛΑΚeΛ and lΗngΛ fΗΚ. AΜ ΜhΑΛ mΗmenΜ, Μhe nΗvΑce ΑΛ ΜΗ chΗΗΛe Μhe habΑΜ ΟΑΜh hΑΛ ΚΑghΜ hand, and Μhe abbot ΛaΡΛ, ThaΜ ΟhΑch GΗd haΛ begΝn Αn ΡΗΝ, leΜ hΑm bΚΑng ΜΗ cΗmΘleΜΑΗn.
After this selection, the entire party processes back into the sanctuary for the second part of the rite. As they walk back into public view, they sing the words of Psalm 125:
1. In convertendo Dominus captivitatem Sion, When the LORD brought back the captivity of Sion, facti sumus sicut consolati. we became like men comforted. 158
2. Tunc repletum est gaudio os nostrum, Then was our mouth filled with gladness et lingua nostra exsultatione. and our tongue with joy. Tunc dicent inter gentes: Then shall they say among the Gentiles: Magnificavit Dominus facere cum eis. The LORD hath done great things for them. 3. Magnificavit Dominus facere nobiscum; The LORD hath done great things for us; facti sumus laetantes. we are become joyful. 4. Converte, Domine, captivitatem nostram, Turn again our captivity, O LORD, sicut torrens in austro. as a stream in the south. 5. Qui seminant in lacrimis, in exsultatione metent. They that sow in tears shall reap in joy. 6. Euntes ibant et flebant, mittentes semina sua. Going they went and wept, casting their seeds. Venientes autem venient cum exsultatione, Coming back, they shall come with joyfulness, portantes manipulos suos. carrying their sheaves.162
It is worth exploring the meaning of this particular psalm in greater detail, since it is the first communal expression made after the staΜΑng Ηf Μhe nΗvΑce Λ ΑnΜenΜΑΗnΛ and no doubt carries with it new layers of meaning in this context.
According to the commentary on this psalm in the Cambridge Bible for Schools and
Colleges, veΚΛe 1 ΚefeΚΛ ΜΗ IΛΚael Λ eΠΑle Αn BabΡlΗn; Αn ΜhΑΛ cΗnΜeΠΜ, bΚΗΝghΜ bacΓ Μhe caΘΜΑvΑΜΡ
Ηf meanΛ bΚΗΝghΜ bacΓ ΜhΗΛe ΜhaΜ ΚeΜΝΚned. 163 Thus, this psalm is a praise of thanksgiving for the return of the Jews to their homeland by the LORD s will. In verse 4, the author uses a
ΛΑmΑlaΚ cΗnΛΜΚΝcΜΑΗn Αn TΝΚn agaΑn ΗΝΚ caΘΜΑvΑΜΡ, ΟhΑch meanΛ, Αn ΜhΑΛ cΗnΜeΠΜ, ΚeΛΜΗΚe ΗΝΚ fΗΚΜΝneΛ. The ΛΗΝΜh Ηf Μhe fΗllΗΟΑng lΑne ΚefeΚΛ ΛΘecΑfΑcallΡ ΜΗ Μhe Negeb, Μhe dΚΡ ΚegΑΗn south of Judea, in which the fall rains would alleviate the summer drought. The author of the
162 English translation provided in the Professio Temporaria booklet. 163 Cambridge Bible for Schools and Colleges, ed. Cambridge University Press, vol. 20, Psalms, ed. A. F. Kirkpatrick (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1906). 159 psalm compares the present restoration to a trickle in what he hopes to be a much larger deliverance. The author of the commentary notes that verse 5 is not simply a parable or a turn of phrase bΝΜ ΑΛ baΛed Ηn ΛΜΗΚΑeΛ ΓnΗΟn ΜΗ Μhe IΛΚaelΑΜeΛ. AΛ ΜhaΜ aΝΜhΗΚ ΟΚΑΜeΛ, The ΜeaΚΛ shed at the Foundation of the Second Temple (Ezra 3:12), and the rejoicings at its completion
(Ezra 6:16; Ezra 6:22), and at the Dedication of the Walls (Nehemiah 12:27; Nehemiah 12:43)
ΟeΚe ΗnlΡ ΑllΝΛΜΚaΜΑΗnΛ Ηf Μhe geneΚal ΜΚΝΜh. The fΑnal veΚΛe ΑΛ a cΗnΜΑnΝaΜΑΗn Ηf Μhe ΘΚevΑΗΝΛ line. In essence, the toil of the sower will be matched by the success of the harvest an idea that, for the Israelites, had historical precedence.
The inclusion of Psalm 125 is fitting since ritualized words and actions are replete with symbolism and provide insight into the meanings of the ritual itself. Within the context of this ritual in which a man gives temporary vows to the Benedictine institution and in which he is formally recognized as a new member of their brotherhood, the words of the psalm take on particularly strong and possibly unexpected meanings especially if the chanters identify themselves as facing a situation similar to the psalmist. The monks in this ritual appear to equate their joy for monastic life with that of the Israelites after their return home. In this specific context, though, we are left to wonder whether the monks thought of their life in the world as their captivity. If so, it would seem that they think of the monastery as their true home; the monastery is as comforting to monks as Sion was to the exiled Israelites. This interpretation of Psalm 125 glimpse into monastic life and how monks think of their own position. The monastery is not a self-imposed exile; it is, instead, the home to which monks have been destined to return. Indeed, the world is, to them, exile. After expressing their thankfulness to God for delivering them from the world, their chants turn to the continuation of their monastic home. However, the introduction of a new brother into the
160 fold is an instantaneous fulfillment of their prayer. He is to the monastery what the rain was to the Negeb region: promise of a future harvest.
Once all the monks have entered the church, Mass begins as usual. At the time of the
Offertory, the rite begins again. At that, Fr. Abbot, in full regalia, sits in a chair in front of the altar, facing the congregation. The novice is brought to the abbot and faces him. His back is turned to the congregation, but a microphone stand, placed between himself and the abbot, ensures the audience can hear his voice.
FATHER ABBOT: My beloved Son, you who have abandoned the world and have taken refuge with God, behold you are before him and his Holy Altar, in the presence of the Monks who dwell in this monastery: tell me if you desire to renounce the world and all its pomps?
NOVICE: I do.
FATHER ABBOT: Do you wish to undertake the conversion of your manners, and to prefer the love of Christ to that of your parents?
NOVICE: I do.
FATHER ABBOT: Do you wish to profess obedience according to the Holy Rule of Saint Benedict, at the same time renouncing your own will?
NOVICE: I do.
FATHER ABBOT: Do you wish to persevere in this holy Order, wherein you ask to be admitted?
NOVICE: I do and I desire it.
AΜ ΜhΑΛ ΘΗΑnΜ, Μhe cΗmmΝnΑΜΡ ΛaΡΛ Amen, ΛΑgnΑfΡΑng ΜheΑΚ aΘΘΚΗval Ηf ΜheΛe vΗΟΛ. The novice reads his Charter of Profession aloud, signs it, shows it to the abbot, and places it to the side of the altar. He then walks back to his place in front of the abbot and kneels before him. The abbot addresses the community, asking all to pray for this man whom he calls
161
fΚaΜeΚ fΗΚ Μhe fΑΚΛΜ ΜΑme. AfΜeΚ Μhe abbot has finished this prayer, the new brother rises and sings,
Suscipe me Domine, secundum eloquium tuum, Receive me Lord, according to you word, et vivam; and I shall live;
Kneeling once more, he continues,
et non confundas me ab exspectatione mea and do not confound me in my expectation
The new brother repeats this verse three times, joining with it each time the same actions.
After each solo recitation, the choir his new brothers repeat the verse, adding the Gloria
Patri the final time. This choral response has the effect of both confirming what the new brother has just said and also reaffirming the prayer for themselves. Each successive repetition is a full step higher in pitch, a musical choice that appears to be striving for some type of climax while also never finding a stable resolution. The pitch could rise indefinitely but doing so would continue to draw attention to the fact that there is no final resting spot. Given its place in the ritual, this musical gesture seems to symbolize the monastic life itself each step up seems to demand yet another step, with no clear end in sight.
After this, the abbot and choir exchange verses of prayer, petitioning God for the safety and faithfulness of the new brother. This exchange commences with an extended prayer by the abbot for this young man, ΑnclΝdΑng a vaΚΑaΜΑΗn Ηn BenedΑcΜ Λ petition for monastic life: GΚanΜ hΑm ΜΗ devΗΜedlΡ hΗld faΛΜ ΜΗ ΜhΑΛ hΗlΡ ΝndeΚΜaΓΑng, and lΑΓeΟΑΛe Μhe ΚemΑΛΛΑΗn Ηf hΑΛ ΛΑnΛ, ΛΗ ΜhaΜ he mΑghΜ meΚΑΜ ΜΗ cΗme ΜΗ ΛhaΚe Αn Μhe fellΗΟΛhΑΘ Ηf ΜhΡ ElecΜ. FΗllΗΟΑng
162 this prayer, the new brother removes his hood, and the abbot bleΛΛeΛ Μhe neΟ bΚΗΜheΚ Λ habΑΜ with prayer, holy water, and incense. He finishes by intoning the first verse of the hymn Veni
Creator; after the first verse, the choir continues singing.
As the choir sings, the abbot ΘΚaΡΛ ΘΚΑvaΜelΡ fΗΚ Μhe neΟ bΚΗΜheΚ: MaΡ Μhe LΗΚd ΛΜΚΑΘ
ΡΗΝ Ηf Μhe Ηld man and hΑΛ deedΛ. Placing the habit on the new brother, the abbot says to hΑm, ReceΑve Μhe ΡΗΓe Ηf OΝΚ LΗΚd JeΛΝΛ ChΚΑΛΜ, and beaΚ hΑΛ bΝΚden ΟhΑch Αs light and eaΛΡ. CΗnΜΑnΝΑng, the abbot addresses the brother with a variation on the prayer that he had
ΘΚΑvaΜelΡ ΘΚaΡed: MaΡ Μhe LΗΚd clΗΜhe ΡΗΝ Αn Μhe neΟ man ΟhΗ ΑΛ ΚeneΟed fΚΗm daΡ ΜΗ daΡ
Αn Μhe Αmage Ηf He ΟhΗ cΚeaΜed ΡΗΝ. The habit is clearly symbolic of this neΟ man ΟhΗm the abbot has prayed for; it is a visual representation of what is hoped to be a spiritual change.
The choir concludes their hymn after the private meeting between abbot and the new brother is complete. These two offer one another a sign of peace, and the new brother asks the abbot to pray for him. He is directed by the abbot back to his choir stall and Mass continues as directed.
For three days, this newly professed brother is not to read or say the responsories at any of the Hours, and he is not allowed to speak anything (for instance, a reading) by himself.
He is not allowed to hold any special role during Mass. His only true utterance, according to the written (but unspoken) rite, is during the Office as long as the sections he sings are also sung by the choir. He is also instructed to wear his hood during his work and sleep.
The morning after I had my brief conversation with Mr. McFadden, his son completed the rite of the Professio temporaria. During the office of Prime, the Master of Novices addressed the abbot: RΑghΜ ReveΚend FaΜheΚ, Αf ΑΜ ΘleaΛe Μhee, ΜhΑΛ ΗΝΚ bΚΗΜheΚ cΗΝld fΚΗm ΜhΑΛ
ΜΑme fΗΚΜh Κead and ΛΑng Αn cΗnvenΜΝal eΠeΚcΑΛeΛ, ΒΝΛΜ lΑΓe Μhe ΗΜheΚ bΚΗΜheΚΛ. The abbot
163
ΚeΛΘΗnded, SΗ leΜ ΑΜ be, ΟΑΜh Μhe bleΛΛΑng Ηf GΗd. The new brother rose from his seat, and in thanksgiving, gestured toward the abbot.
Solemn vows will come later, in three years or more years. For the time being, though, this young man is a brother at Our Lady of Clear Creek Abbey, renouncing his will to that of the monastery, putting its concerns before his own, and preferring the love of Christ to that of his parents or his many siblings. At last he is home, and he will reap in goodness from the toil of the monastic life.
A Rejection of the World’s Values
After breakfast on Sunday, I had the chance to speak with a group of men from Texas.
For the second year in a row, they had come to Oklahoma for a small pilgrimage. Their journey began at St. Brigid Church in Tahlehqua, OK, and they walked about twenty-two miles to Our Lady of Clear Creek Abbey. They carried with them a large wooden cross adorned with written prayers and thanksgivings; this particular weekend was chosen to commemorate the feast of The Exaltation of the Holy Cross, which took place the following day (September 14). There were seven men in the group; some of them were very vocal and engaging; some were shyer; a few said nothing.
I told them about why I was there that weekend, the things I hoped to find through my research, and I let them know that I was interested in hearing their views on issues of faith, music, and monasticism. Their responses came from their own experiences in a men Λ choir that chanted Vespers several nights a week. They were passionate and emotional about this topic, and they were also unexpectedly knowledgeable and articulate about their feelings.
164
I asked them, as lay people, how they felt about the Latin liturgy. Was it something they understood, or did they struggle with it? One of the men responded that their Vespers services begin the week in mostly English, but that they incorporate more Latin as the week goes on. He explained that Latin meant more to him than English, at least in a liturgical context. Another man discussed the sound of Latin, and how the language itself meant something to him and conveyed a particular feeling. Their responses corresponded with the notion of learned signs and symbols, in the semiotic approach of Peirce.164 The man standing nearest to me shared his own personal experience: I dΗn Μ know if ΡΗΝ d call it a weight, or a heaviness, about Latin; it has this feeling ΜhaΜ Λ not present in the EnglΑΛh.
I asked the group, When you sing Vespers in Latin, how do you deal with the language? Do you know what ΡΗΝ Κe singing beforehand, or do you have an English translation ΘΚeΛenΜ? A few of the men answered that they translate beforehand so that they have a general idea about the meaning of the texts, while others said that they read along to an
English translation as they chant. The man standing nearest to me gave me an unusually frank response. IΜ dΗeΛn Μ maΜΜeΚ, he told me, I just trust in the Latin. I asked him to elaborate, and he said that there is a temporality even a fallibility in English translations. PeΗΘle can tweak those translations in ways that were never meanΜ, he explained. The Latin, he said, has been around forever. It has been tested, refined, and perfected. He finished his point, saying,
OΝΚ understanding of it ΑΛn Μ ΟhaΜ Λ ΑmΘΗΚΜanΜ. His implication here was that chanting is not for the sake of those chanting but as praise to God or even communion with Him; God understands and appreciates the language, even if to us it means nothing. His idea about chant was not altogether different from the Pentecostal notion of speaking in tongues.
164 Cf., Ch. 3, “Mystic Spirituality.” 165
Of course, my new friends had talked themselves into some contradictory assumptions. The first is that the Latin they sing is an Urtext, whose meanings are true to the intentions of the author. Perhaps even more to the point is the assumption that any text whether in its original language or a translation (or a translation of a translation) fully connotes the particular spiritual and cultural contexts of its origins that are necessary to a complete understanding of the meanings of those texts. Finally, this man Λ statement that understanding the text is ultimately unimportant for the performer, so Latin should be used betrays the logic of his argument in the first place. If this were true, then any language, real or made up, could replace the Latin with exactly the same result. If chanting is not for our benefit but for God Λ, then one presumes that God would be no less delighted by and would understand the gist of the chants in a translation, no matter its fidelity to the original.
If I had had the opportunity to probe further, I think this man would have said that, in fact, understanding does matter, but that the music also helps to convey the messages of the chants. At a basic level, I suspect we would have even agreed that this understanding is culturally learned. For example, since he is part of a Catholic community, he has learned that he can trust a language system because the community trusts that language. Beyond its typical symbolic function, Ecclesiastical Latin functions as a symbol of trust.
The men also seemed to understand that the music served as a symbol. IΜ just sounds religious, it sets a particular mΗΗd, one of told me. I could not argue with his assessment.
Another man chimed in, IΜ was composed specifically for the Church. This ΑΛn Μ something you hear on the radio, or that you buy on CD ΑΜ Λ music for worshΑΘ. I smiled when he said this; I had CDs of Gregorian chant (including a recording of the Clear Creek monks), but I
166 understood his larger point and it one whose obvious and directness had eluded me until that moment.
As we continued talking, I began to sense a general distaste for any liturgical music other than chant. Their conversation soon turned to deriding what they called the
lΑbeΚalΑΛm of Vatican II. One of the men, who later introduced himself as Ray, took Vatican
II to task. TheΡ Κe singing songs that you could hear if you went down to the baΚ, he said to me. If you can hear it at the bar, ΟhaΜ Λ the ΘΗΑnΜ? I considered answering his rhetorical question but decided against it, hoping instead that someone else might pick up the reigns. At any rate, I was more interested in what prompted that idea than in the idea itself. The man standing closest to me joined in discussing the abuses of Vatican II: AΛ a Protestant, I m not sure if you would recognize all of the grievances of the modern liturgy, but ΜheΡ Κe ΜheΚe. I asked him to elaborate and he responded, PeΗΘle take the Eucharist without thinking about it, but the presence of the Lord is in this. People go up like ΑΜ Λ nΗΜhΑng. The liturgy is supposed to help prepare the congregants to receive the Eucharist. The Latin liturgy focuses squarely on this event, and emphasizes ChΚΑΛΜ Λ divinity in the Sacrament. Modern liturgies, for this man, are not so focused, and gloss over this most important theological matter.
Our conversation turned to the other monasteries I had visited. I told them about how similar Clear Creek was to Solesmes, which seemed to please them in a way that I did not expect. Then, I talked with them about the time I had spent at St. Leo. I explained that they were struggling to strike a balance between mΗdeΚn and ΜΚadΑΜΑΗnal, words that I instantly regretted using because of the baggage attached to them. I briefly explained the history of that monastery, and how I suspected they had still not fully recovered from the reforms of Vatican
II.
167
YΗΝ can see that sort of thing all ΗveΚ, one of the men said to me. The college he attended in Kansas was founded by a monastery and a convent on separate sides of the same town. The monastery, he said, remained very conservative after Vatican II, whereas the convent liberalized. TheΡ stopped wearing the habit and all of ΜhaΜ, he explained. Now, he told me, the monastery is flourishing with vocations, whereas the convent is struggling to stay afloat. The enemy to religious institutions, he asserted, was liberalism. The more I spoke with this group the more I sensed their feeling that Vatican II pandered to Catholics who should reconsider their priorities. They unanimously asserted that the Vatican II reforms ultimately weakened the Church and her institutions. The only way forward the only hope of repair was by returning to what they called cΗnΛeΚvaΜΑve religious practices. Ray spoke up again,
ChΝΚcheΛ and monasteries that modernized and went in a liberal direction people left those chΝΚcheΛ. I understood RaΡ Λ point, and I could even see some evidence of this happening, but I wondered if my new friends had fully considered the ways the Church benefitted from its more liberal practices.
Our discussion seemed to be sufficiently one-sided with little nuance. I wondered whether their views were fueled by genuine observation, or if they were simply the result of a partisan-obsessed media and culture. After some hesitation, I decided to challenge their views on liberalism by discussing with them my experiences at St. Leo. SΜ. Leo has an obligation to their cΗmmΝnΑΜΡ, I began. TheΑΚ Abbey is part of a college campus, and their monastery is a strong Catholic presence in that region. They have an obligation to meet people where they are. Their ability to connect with lay people is unbelievable I just think their own monastic community is still hΝΚΜΑng. Some of the men shook their heads and acknowledged that community leadership was an issue. At that point, a few of the men had to leave the
168 conversation to wash dishes, and a few others headed into the sanctuary. I hoped that what I had said had not offended them to the point of killing the conversation, but I wondered if my defense of the so-called lΑbeΚal church was off-putting.
Finally, everyone but Ray had departed. He held out his hand to shake mine. BΚΑan, it was really nice to speak with ΡΗΝ, he said, and I agreed. Despite whatever difference of opinion I had, I found this group of men to be compelling, intelligent, and capable of articulating some truly rich points. I felt like I learned a lot from them, and I really did value their thoughts and experiences. But I could tell that Ray wanted to add something to our conversation. Finally, he spoke up. YΗΝ know, ΑΜ Λ like what we heard at dinner last nΑghΜ, he said. Clear Creek, like Solesmes, has a lector who chants passages from a variety of written materials during lunch and dinner. The night before, he had read from a book about monasticism in the modern world. MΗnaΛΜeΚΑeΛ aΚen Μ supposed to be part of the ΟΗΚld, Ray said to me. TheΑΚ hair, their dress, their liturgy, their music, their way of life ΑΜ Λ all a rejection of the ΟΗΚld Λ values. If they embrace those values, ΜheΡ Κe just like the rest of us.
And ΟhaΜ Λ the point in being a monk if ΑΜ Λ no different from ΝΛ?
Perhaps Ray was exaggerating this last point a bit, because no matter how light and eaΛΡ the yoke of monasticism may be, even the monks at St. Leo whose general demeanor I had remarked was much more similar to my own than that of the Solesmes or Clear Creek monks nonetheless led lives significantly different from mine. But RaΡ Λ broader point resonated with me and reminded me of a passage by Durkheim:
The only way to define the relation between the sacred and the profane is their heterogeneity. This heterogeneity suffices to characterize this classification of things and to distinguish it from any other for one particular reason: it is absolute. . . . This does not mean that a being can never pass from one world to the other; but when it happens, the way this passage occurs highlights the essential duality of the two realms. 169
It implies a true metamorphosis. . . . This heterogeneity is so great it often degenerates into a serious antagonism. The two worlds are not only conceived as separate, but as hostile and jealous rivals. Since a man can belong fully to one realm only if he is entirely out of the other, he is exhorted to withdraw completely from the profane to live an exclusively religious life. Monasticism artificially organizes a closed setting, parallel to and apart from the natural setting in which most men live the life of their times.165
The monks at Clear Creek had certainly created a ΛeΘaΚaΜe space for themselves that transcended mere distance from the profane ΟΗΚld ; their liturgy, music, and lifestyle had created a cultural space that was separate even from other churches especially those whose practices were influenced by the reforms of Vatican II.
Low Mass
The monks at Clear Creek celebrate Low Mass every morning around 7:00. Not all the monks celebrate; many are finishing Lauds when Low Mass begins. As a rule, Low Mass takes place in the crypt below the main sanctuary. The crypt small, white, modern feels more intimate than the sanctuary above. Sound does not reverberate in the crypt as it does upstairs, but it nonetheless carries throughout the room. Many people including the monks themselves mentioned how glad they were that it was unseasonably cool during the time I stayed so that I could hear the chant in the sanctuary. The sanctuary is beautiful and grandiose, and the monks sound truly amazing in that space. However, there is also a coldness about it that feels disengaged from the world. This should not imply that it is impossible to
165 Émile Durkheim, The Elementary Forms of Religious Life, translation by Carol Cosman (1912; Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001), 38-39. 170 have real spiritual connection there; the sanctuary isolates people in such a way that naturally promotes inner reflection. It is dark, dreary, and austere. The only splash of color is the statue of the Virgin halfway through the nave on the right-hand side but even she appears dark and mysterious in the glow of the candlelight that so often surrounds her.
The walls and ceiling of the crypt are painted white, and the room seems very bright when the lights are turned on. Along both side walls of the crypt are four enclosed chapels.
Some of these are ornate, their altars adorned with beautiful icons and paintings; others are minimalist with bare walls and unadorned altars. Low Mass begins with the entering of the priests and the ringing of bells. The priests, each paired with a server, disperse throughout the crypt to the eight chapel altars. The chief celebrant remains at the front altar with two servers.
Just outside the chapels, lay congregants sit in individual seats equipped with prayer rails.
Each priest with the aid of the server celebrates Mass at a barely audible whisper.
Sitting with the congregants, it is impossible for me to distinguish the voice of any single priest; instead, I hear simply their collective Latin murmers. Each Mass in the crypt is a private affair and they are rarely in sync with one another. Because the priests spend most of the Mass facing their respective altars, they neither hear nor see the other Masses. Although nine separate Masses are celebrated at Low Mass, their individual liturgies flow at slightly different times.
The congregants who attend Low Mass celebrate according to what happens at the high altar in the front. Their actions are dictated by the actions of the priest; they are not motivated by the sound of language, but by the memory of sound and the cΗngΚeganΜΛ knowledge of symbol. Low Mass is a Mass of the initiated; outsiders have no business there at least, not in the traditional sense because there is not a single verbal cue about what any of
171 it means. One is left to wonder why the congregants move in the ways that they do, in sync with one another, influenced by some mysterious cue.
The worshipers in the chapels all seem to be keenly aware of what is happening at their respective altars. The congregants focusing on the high altar sometimes misstep in the ritual, or appear unprepared when everyone else moves in a particular way, but they find their ways back into the fold. Others appear deeply engaged in prayer, celebrating the private
Mass of their hearts and minds. Occasionally, the server at the main altar rings a set of handbells in conjunction with the ritual. Bells, whispers, and the movement of bodies are the only sounds one hears in the crypt during Low Mass. Mystery and wonder abound during this ritual; nothing else distracts the worshiper from these things.
Of course, mystery and wonder are also present in a High Mass, especially when
Gregorian chant is involved. One might even argue that the liturgy is incomplete without its musical component, as Fr. Abbot Philip insinuated in his interview on EWTN: In a certain way, you dΗn Μ have the complete liturgy unless you have the chΝΚch Λ own interpretation of it. And the chant will bring out, in a liturgical piece, a certain aspect of the meaning of it. . . .
It gives you a certain insight into the ΜeΠΜ. 166 These insights are shared between the singer and the hearer. Without chant, a ceΚΜaΑn aΛΘecΜ of the liturgy is lost.
In PlaΜΗ Λ Phaedo, the condemned Socrates makes a case for the eternal human soul, stating at one point that it is an immaterial and immortal component that is distinguishable from the material and mortal human body. SΗcΚaΜeΛ Λ pupil Simmias argues instead that the body is like a musical instrument, and that the soul is akin to the music it makes. While the creation of music is the purpose of the instrument and its most beautiful and everlasting work,
166 EWTN Live, 26 February 2014. 172 music is bound to the material instrument. Socrates argues against his ΘΝΘΑl Λ assumption, saying that the essence of things their fΗΚm give their ineffable qualities to things themselves. Essentially, Socrates turns SimmΑaΛ Λ logic around:
NΗΟ anΛΟeΚ, said [Socrates]. WhaΜ causes the body in which it is to be alΑve? The ΛΗΝl, [Simmias] replied. IΛ this always the caΛe? YeΛ, said he, Ηf cΗΝΚΛe. Then if the soul takes possession of anything it always brings life to ΑΜ? CeΚΜaΑnlΡ, he said.167
If Socrates were to apply this logic back onto the case of a musical instrument, he might say that eternal and immaterial music is what turns a piece of wood strung with strings into an instrument; it is not the other way around, as Simmias suggests. Socrates would suggest that in a world devoid of music, there would be no instruments. In a world with music, though, we might still recognize any instrument, even if it played no tune. This is because we recognize its fundamental purpose, even if it is not engaged in that at the moment.
If chant completes the liturgy as Fr. Abbot suggested, I wondered if a Mass without chant is like a body without a soul a lifeless shell. Of course, calling a sacred rite lΑfeleΛΛ might at first seem inflammatory and disrespectful. But this is, I believe, the point of the Low
Mass. Those who are uninitiated, who do not know or do not believe, do not see the possibility for life in this silent ritual. Instead, they see a confusing pantomime. They are left in disbelief that this ritual is anything other than complete nonsense. On the other hand, those who believe and understand the Low Mass see something much deeper: they know that even without sound, the Mass has potential for life. Even if this Mass is breathless, spiritless,
167 Plato, Plato in Twelve Volumes, Vol. 1 edited and translated by Harold North Fowler (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1966), 105. 173 and lifeless, these believers know that the Mass is life giving, even if at the moment it appears dead.
If the Low Mass is dead, it is not a death in vain; Catholic believers know that God promises a resurrection after death, and this belief is never clearer than in the juxtaposition between the Low Mass and the High Mass, the spirit-imbued ritual that takes place every day, just hours after Low Mass, in the sanctuary above. It is a ritualistic resurrection, lifting the
Mass from its symbolic burial in the crypt into world however cold and unfeeling it may be.
Music restores spirit to the Mass, and the Mass restores spirit to the monastery.
A Low Mass like that at Clear Creek is rare in the post-Vatican II Catholic Church.
While the silent Low Mass was the norm in the United States in the 1940s and 1950s, the liturgical reforms of Vatican II all but prohibited such a cryptic service, favoring instead those which were accessible and obvious. By performing the Low Mass daily, the monks at Clear
Creek send out a message that they are different not just from the world, but from the establishment of the Catholic Church.
The Poetic Life
The choice to be defiantly different is, as one expects in an abbey, the decision of the abbot. The ethos of difference at Clear Creek is their way of building and sustaining their community. He explained this philosophy to Fr. Mitch Pacwa in his interview on EWTN
Live:
You see, father, young people that have vocations, ΜheΡ Κe looking for a high ideal. . . . You know, when men get older, ΜheΡ Κe happy to have more leisure or whatever, but
174
young people, I want to make a monastery that attracts them. You know, ΜheΡ Κe the future, and they want a hard ideal. . . . Young people are looking for something more adventurous. I would use another word that ΡΗΝ d have to qualify to understand, that I think is profoundly important in all of this. Young people are looking for a life they find poetic. And I dΗn Μ mean poetry in a bad sense, like something not real or sure, but I mean something that, you know, touches their heart. IΜ Λ not just like a professional formation you know? Or the technical knowledge or whatever. They want to do something that seems like it has a resonance with what people have done. . . . TheΚe Λ something about this ΜhaΜ Λ just in our psyche, you know? The monk even Buddhist monks ΜheΚe Λ something in the history of the world, and young people like that. In some places now, some more advanced or developed monasteries where they have big universities or the monks are teachers, well then the young person says, Well if I want to become a teacher, I ll be a ΜeacheΚ. To become a monk just to do parish work just dΗeΛn Μ seem right. But our form of life being close to the land, and being out in nature ΑΜ Λ more poetic. Now, there are more important things in life than that, but for the young people, I think initially, they see us as something that rings a bell with them.168
Fr. Abbot has certainly achieved his goal of fostering a poetic life. The connection to nature in the hills of the Ozarks and their lack of technology hearken back to the ideals espoused by the Romantics. But aside from the worldly work they do, their Opus Dei proves to be poetic also. Life is quiet and simple there; the repetition of the Office highlights its importance, but it also draws attention to even the smallest peculiarities that contrast with their highly predictable lives. Like a poem, every moment is filled with meaning. There is hardly a ritual more symbolic and poetic than the Low Mass. As a self-contained ritual, it is perhaps the most purely symbolic of any I have seen; as part of the ritualistic life of a Clear Creek monk (or of a visitor), it serves a larger symbolic role as the death that is necessary for a resurrected eternal life.
Aside from giving his monks purpose, Fr. AbbΗΜ Λ statement reveals his attention to the marketability (if one can forgive the term) of Clear Creek. He understands that in order to
168 EWTN Live, 26 February 2014. 175 create a community with sustained success, they need young people to work and carry on their traditions. While the traditional and poetic liturgy serves a spiritual purpose for the monks at Clear Creek, Fr. Abbot also recognizes the fact that their way of life is attractive to many, and to young people especially. It is surely this poetic life that drew Mrs. Z, Mary, and the other community members to Clear Creek, and it is surely why their monastery has grown to over forty brothers in less than twenty years.
Fr. Abbot distinguishes the practices at Clear Creek from those at other monasteries and recognizes (like the men I met from Texas) that, at least in the world of Benedictine monasticism, conservatism is a signifier of authentic and unadulterated Catholic expression.
Were they to work jobs expected in the modern world, or perform a more modern liturgy, their communal identity would be significantly different. And no matter their spiritual purpose, they must rely on their monastic identity to appeal to new generations of religious.
176
CONCLUSION
WHAT IF…?
This research began with a central idea: what if instead of studying Gregorian chant as the ancient ancestor to Western music, I studied it as a living musical culture one that is vital and necessary for the people who practice it, whose central symbols are fixed but whose practice is nonetheless open to change based on environment, place, and time? What if instead of thinking of this music as solely within the realm of musicology, I considered it from an ethnomusicological point of view? What if instead of trying to uncover new information that would shed light on the monastic past a topic that is, granted, very fascinating I wanted simply to understand the culture in its present state, to begin a new history for this old music?
What are the implications, if any, of such an approach? In one way or another, my answers to all these questions involved performance in some way or another.
When I was at St. Leo Abbey, I happened to find a small booklet titled The
Benedictines. It was written in 1962 by Dom David Knowles, a monk at Downside Abbey, and featured an introduction by Marion Bowman, then abbot at St. Leo. It was a work I had not seen elsewhere; the booklet was printed at St. Leo, and I suspected that it had a fairly limited print run. The book itself, though just fifty small pages, is concise and full of spiritual wisdom about the Benedictine life. Chapter 5, ΜΑΜled SΗme BenedΑcΜΑne ChaΚacΜeΚΑΛΜΑcΛ, ΑllΝΛΜΚaΜeΛ Μhe things that Benedictines should, in theory, have in common. However, what struck me was the introduction of that chapter:
177
Cardinal Newman, in a celebrated passage from his essay Mission of the Benedictine Order, haΛ ΛΘΗΓen Ηf Μhe mΗnΓ Λ lΑfe aΛ ΘΗeΜΑcal and aΛ affΗΚdΑng maΜΜeΚ fΗΚ ΜΚΝe ΘΗeΜΚΡ. . . . NeΟman Λ ΘhΚaΛe ΟaΛ ΘeΚhaΘΛ a lΑΜΜle ΝnfΗΚtunate, for there is no doubt that English-speaking people in general, both Catholic and non-Catholic, have had, at least since the beginning of the romantic movement, a romantic conception of monasticism. The Romantic novelists and poets could imagine an angelic monk and a diabolical monk, but they never seriously attempted to imagine an ordinary human monk. We Benedictines are still, in spite of ourselves, heirs of this tradition.169
I have been guilty of this fallacy certainly in the beginning of my research, if not during, from time to time. This impression is difficult for outsiders to overcome, because the monastic life seems to be, for all of its claims to the contrary, an extraordinary way of life.
Monks themselves take on a major obligation for the duration of their lives, based on their commitment to the belief that what they do will not only enrich themselves, but might have some impact on the world, too. And yet, as Dom Knowles wrote,
We cannot too often repeat, in view of the apparent austerity of the Rule, that Saint Benedict nowhere suggests that he is legislating for the notorious sinner or, indeed, for any uncommon type or temperament. His monks are ordinary men, and he will lead them in a way accessible to ordinary men.170
In this dissertation, I have tried to show monks as everyday people by not only including their voices but by including conversations with people who see them this way. For Phillippe, whom I met at Solesmes, the monks were individuals who would go out of their way to help anyone but the things that they do are always within the realm of possibility. Mark, with whom I spoke at St. Leo, saw the monks there as people who were living the type of spiritual life he desired, one that he felt was possible for him to follow. Mr. McFadden, whom I met at
169 Dom David Knowles, The Benedictines: A Digest for Moderns (St. Leo, FL: The Abbey Press, 1962), 31-32. 170 Ibid., 15-16. 178
Clear Creek, was the biological father of one of the monks; he was giving up his son to the monastic life, to the control of the abbot. In all the places I visited, I saw monks who were real, people whom Dom Knowles called ΗΚdΑnaΚΡ.
But while I grant the ordinary nature of their work and their abilities, I have concluded in my ethnographic chapters that monks sometimes use music as a means of transformation from their ordinary selves into extraordinary beings. They accomplish this through the celebration of ritual including Holy Mass and the Divine Office by performing an identity greater than themselves. This interpretation is based on the notion that their work the Opus Dei physically fills them with the words of God and thus, the spirit of the
Christian God so that when they sing together, they take on the power of God.
The celebrated performance theorist Richard Schechner discusses the phenomenon of
ΜΚanΛfΗΚmaΜΑΗnal ΘeΚfΗΚmance Αn hΑΛ chaΘΜeΚ MagnΑΜΝdeΛ Ηf PeΚfΗΚmance. 171 Although
Schechner focuses specifically on the performative nature of various theatrical and acting traditions, he notes that his theories might apply to performances of all types including those that the practitioners might not even consider to be ΘeΚfΗΚmance. 172 His central thesis based on close study of the Natyasastra system of dramatic performance originating in India claims that performers feel through action. This runs contrary to the well-known Strasberg
meΜhΗd Αn ΟhΑch acΜΗΚΛ Κecall certain feelings in order to act in a way that is deemed to be
belΑevable. The caΝΛal chaΑn can gΗ Αn bΗΜh dΑΚecΜΑΗnΛ, ΟΚΑΜeΛ SchechneΚ. FeelΑngΛ can lead to stage action while the practice of specific stage exercises can arouse feelings in the actor. . . . Acting is not only the means by which the audience gets the performance but also
171 RΑchaΚd SchechneΚ, MagnΑΜΝdeΛ Ηf PeΚfΗΚmance Αn By Means of Performance: Intercultural Studies of Theatre and Ritual, Richard Schechner and Willa Appel, eds. (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1990), 19-49. 172 Ibid., 24-25. 179 the way in which the actors get it Μhe ΑΜ beΑng nΗΜ ΗnlΡ geΛΜΝΚeΛ bΝΜ feelΑngΛ aΛ Οell. 173
This certainly contributed to the feelings of joy that I felt as I celebrated Mass with the monks at St. Leo; even though I did not know the ritual as well as they did, I nonetheless felt a deep sense of satisfaction from participating within their community.
SchechneΚ ΛΜΑΘΝlaΜeΛ ΜhaΜ ΜhΑΛ ΑΛ all a ΚeΛΝlΜ Ηf Van GenneΘ Λ (and TΝΚneΚ Λ) ΚΑΜΝal process, except from a theatrical point of vΑeΟ: acΜΗΚΛ gΗ ΑnΜΗ ΜΚaΑnΑng aΛ fΑΠed, aΚe bΚΗΓen dΗΟn ΑnΜΗ a ΘΛΡchΗΘhΡΛΑcallΡ malleable Λelf ΗΚ bΑΜΛ ΜhaΜ can be ΚeaΚΚanged.174 Writes
SchechneΚ, ThΑΛ ΚeaΚΚangΑng ΑΛ nΗΜ mechanΑcal, fΗΚ ΑΜ ΑΛ accompanied by varying degrees of self-cΗnΛcΑΗΝΛ, ΚefleΠΑve ΚecΗnΛΜΚΝcΜΑΗn. 175 BΝΜ ΜhΑΛ ΚecΗnΛΜΚΝcΜΑΗn ΑΛ dΗne nΗΜ ΒΝΛΜ fΗΚ Μhe enΒΗΡmenΜ Ηf Μhe aΝdΑence: HΝman cΗmmΝnΑcaΜΑΗnΛ ΛΡΛΜemΛ aΚe nΗΜ ΚedΝcΑble ΜΗ Μhe ΛΜaΜΑc mΗdel Ηf ΛendeΚ-channel-ΚeceΑveΚ, ΟΚites Schechner.176 Instead, as the performer reassembles the bits of self, he is also aware of and moved by the action. I find that, while it might not be their intention to do so, monks engage in a similar process by which, through the ritualistic performance of the Office and Mass, they reassemble themselves in the image of the thing they perform: the mercy, grace, beauty, and sacrifice of the God in whom they believe.
This ritualistic transformation is also explained through Christian mysticism. In his sixth sermon, the great Christian mystic Meister Eckhardt (1260-1327/8) theorized that the ideal prayer should be, simply, ΜΗ be mΗΚe lΑΓe GΗd. When ΜΚΝlΡ ΛancΜΑfΑed, [Μhe heaΚΜ] ΘΚaΡΛ for nothing. . . . The sanctified heart desires nothing, and contains nothing that it wishes to be
173 Ibid., 35. 174 Ibid., 41. 175 Ibid. 176 Ibid. 180 freed from. Therefore, it is free of all want except that it wants to be like God. 177 This distinction is especially important, because it banishes the popular notion that prayer is an attempt to solicit something from God. EckhaΚΜ ΝndeΚΛΜΗΗd Μhe ΛancΜΑfΑed heaΚΜ aΛ Ηne ΜhaΜ lacked no goodness nor possessed any vice. This simple prayer to be like God encapsulates all other prayers and, essentially, makes them obsolete. For monks, praying the psalms is not a generic act, nor a request for anything specific; rather, these prayers are attempts to become more like God.
The fact that these prayers are sung is no coincidence: As religious philosopher
WΑllΑam JameΛ nΗΜed, MΝΛΑc . . . ΑΛ Μhe elemenΜ ΜhΚΗΝgh ΟhΑch Οe aΚe beΛΜ ΛΘΗΓen Μo by mystical truth. . . . Music gives us ontological messages which non-musical criticism is unable
ΜΗ cΗnΜΚadΑcΜ. 178 What better way to be more like God than to sing His words? And yet, in doing so, monks run the risk of thinking of themselves as God-like. They counteract this through constant self-denial and by performing never-ending acts of humility. (Or, in the case that Br. Stanislaw described in chapter 4, they instead take pride in their work, and thus set themselves apart from their community.)
Judith Becker presents another view of the phenomenology of religious transformation, specifically in relation to trance.179 Becker defines trance aΛ a bΗdΑlΡ evenΜ
177 Johannes Eckhart, Meister Eckhart’s Sermons, Claud Field, translator. (Grand Rapids, MI: Christian Classics Ethereal Library), 21. Accessed March 10, 2016, http://www.ccel.org/ccel/eckhart/sermons.pdf. 178 WΑllΑam JameΛ, VaΚΑeΜΑeΛ Ηf RelΑgΑΗΝΛ PeΚfΗΚmance, Αn The Essential Writings, Bruce W. Wilshire, ed. (Albany, NY: State University of New York Press, 1984 [1902]), 247. 179 BecΓeΚ Λ ΟΗΚΓ Αn ΜhΑΛ aΚea haΛ been cΗnΜΚΗveΚΛΑal: In heΚ 2009 aΚΜΑcle EΜhnΗmΝΛΑcology and Empiricism in the Twenty-FΑΚΛΜ CenΜΝΚΡ, Λhe admΑΜΛ ΜhaΜ manΡ Αn Μhe ΛΗ-called haΚd ΛcΑenceΛ have avΗΑded heΚ ΚeΛeaΚch becaΝΛe ΑΜ ΑnvΗlveΛ ΛΝch a ΛΗfΜ ΜΗΘΑc aΛ mΝΛΑcal ΜΚance (2009: 492-494). Musicologists, on the other hand, have been hesitant to fully adopt her findings because she lacks the scientific rigor of someone whose primary field is ΛcΑenΜΑfΑc (Λee TΑΜΗn, 2009 and BaΓan, 2009). AlΜhΗΝgh BecΓeΚ Λ aΘΘΚΗach ΑΛ cΚΑΜΑcΑΣed fΚΗm bΗΜh Ηf ΑΜΛ cΗnΛΜΑΜΝenΜ sides, one notes the originality and ambitiousness of her work, and her courage to take on a hitherto un[der]explored field. 181 characterized by strong emotion, intense focus, the loss of the strong sense of self, usually enveloped by amnesia and a cessation of the inner language. 180 ThΑΛ ΑnneΚ langΝage ΑΛ Ηne Λ conscious thought, the running monologue that accompanies everyday life and makes sense of
Ηne Λ ΜΑme and Θlace.181 It is this same type of thought, speculated Meister Eckhart, that keeps us from recognizing that God is near us or even, that we are ΘΗΛΛeΛΛed by God.182 As
Eckhart wrote, By copying the heavens, which receive no impulse from without to mar their
ΜΚanΙΝΑlΑΜΡ, Μhe ΛΗΝl ΑΛ able ΜΗ aΚΚΑve aΜ ΜhΑΛ heavenly state that it recognizes God in itself. 183
Meister Eckhart suggested that in order to find God present in ourselves, the seeker must take on the tranquility of heaven, thus casting aside the conscious and tumultuous mind. Or, to
ΘΝΜ ΑΜ Αn BecΓeΚ Λ ΜeΚmΛ, trance allows for the temporary cessation of the conscious mind that
ΜΡΘΑcallΡ ΑmΘedeΛ Ηne Λ abΑlΑΜΡ ΜΗ Λee deeΘ ΟΑΜhΑn ΗneΛelf.
While Becker never mentions Gregorian chant specifically as a way to achieve a trance state, it seems unlikely that it should be excluded. Her study borrows from a number of various musical traditions, and trance states are not exclusive to those on which she focuses.
Becker argues that environments conducive to trancing are highly predictable: such a setting is a ΚΑchlΡ sensual physical environment of sights, smells, and especially music that envelopes and ΘeΚmeaΜeΛ eveΚΡ ΘΗΚe Ηf heΚ [Μhe ΜΚanceΚ Λ] bΗdΡ, ΜhaΜ ΚhΡΜhmΑcallΡ enΜΚaΑnΛ heΚ ΟΑΜh many other bodies. 184 Religious communities that are prone to practice trancing do so with
ΚegΝlaΚΑΣed meΜhΗdΛ ΜhaΜ aΚe bΗΜh cΝlΜΝΚallΡ cΗnΛΜΚΝcΜed and ΘhΡΛΑΗlΗgΑcal Αn naΜΝΚe.185
180 Judith Becker, Deep Listeners: Music, Emotion, and Trancing (Bloomington, IN: Indiana University, 2004), 43. 181 Ibid., 28. 182 Eckhart, Sermons, 9. 183 Ibid. 184 Becker, Deep Listeners, 39. 185 Ibid., 30. 182
However, Becker insists that cultural awareness and expectation of trance is key to trance behavior. In other words, trance ΑΛ neveΚ ΝnmedΑaΜed and ΑΛ ΑnΜΑmaΜelΡ tied to its own ontogeny. 186
To further explain trancing caused by music, BecΓeΚ bΗΚΚΗΟΛ fΚΗm BΗΝΚdΑeΝ Λ cΗnceΘΜ of habitus ( an embΗdΑed ΘaΜΜeΚn Ηf acΜΑΗn and ΚeacΜΑΗn, Αn ΟhΑch Οe aΚe nΗΜ fΝllΡ cΗnΛcΑΗΝΛ of why we do what we do; not totally determined but a tendency ΜΗ behave a ceΚΜaΑn ΟaΡ ), creating what she calls a habitus of listening.187 SΑmΑlaΚ ΜΗ BΗΝΚdΑeΝ Λ ΗΚΑgΑnal ΜeΚm, habitus of listening
. . . suggests, not a necessity nor a rule, but an inclination, a disposition to listen with a particular kind of focus, to expect to experience particular kinds of emotion, to move with certain stylized gestures, and to interpret the meaning of Μhe ΛΗΝndΛ and Ηne Λ emotional responses to the music even in somewhat (never totally) predictable ways. . . . [Habitus of listening] underlines the interrelatedness of the perception of musical emotion and learned interactions with our surroundings.188
BecΓeΚ Λ dΑΛcΝΛΛΑΗn nΗΜ ΗnlΡ ΜaΓeΛ Ηn BΗΝΚdΑeΝ Λ cΗnceΘΜ Ηf habitus; in discussing the
ΑnΜeΚΚelaΜedneΛΛ Ηf ΘΚacΜΑce with learned emotions, environment, and material, she invokes
TΑm IngΗld Λ meΛhΟΗΚΓ ΜheΗΚΡ, Αn ΟhΑch all ΜhΑngΛ Αn ΑnΜeΚacΜΑΗn aΚe cΗnnecΜed bΡ ΟaΡ Ηf
lΑneΛ, ΟhΑch ΓnΗΜ ΜΗgeΜheΚ aΛ ΜheΡ cΗme ΑnΜΗ cΗnΜacΜ ΟΑΜh Ηne anΗΜheΚ.189
Trance affects two types of cΗnΛcΑΗΝΛneΛΛ ΑnheΚenΜ Αn all hΝman beΑngΛ: Μhe cΗΚe consciousness, i.e., Μhe ΛenΛaΜΑΗn Ηf ΓnΗΟΑng Ηne Λ bΗdΡ-state in relation to itself, and the
eΠΜended cΗnΛcΑΗΝΛneΛΛ of the autobiographical self the part of our selves that makes sense
186 Ibid., 41. 187 Becker, Deep Listeners, 70. 188 Ibid., 71. 189 See Ingold, The Life of Lines, 2015. 183 of the world through inner language.190 Trance-inducing music, Becker argues, actually causes
Μhe ΘaΚΜ Ηf Μhe bΚaΑn ΜhaΜ cΗnΜΚΗlΛ cΗΚe cΗnΛcΑΗΝΛneΛΛ ΜΗ fΑΚe ΛΡnaΘΛeΛ aΜ a ΚaΜe ΜhaΜ ΑΛ synchronous with the music; the music thus becomes ΘaΚΜ Ηf Ηne Λ ΗΟn cΗΚe cΗnΛcΑΗΝΛneΛΛ.191
She also proposes that in possession trance, ΚΑΜΝal ΘeΚfΗΚmeΚΛ ΜemΘΗΚaΚΑlΡ lΗΛe the sense of their private, autobiographical self [ sic ] in favor of the sense of the special self of trance possession. 192
Becker does not believe this type of trance is available within Judaism, Islam, and
ChΚΑΛΜΑanΑΜΡ, ΟhΗΛe ΜΚanΛcendenΜal ΜheΑΛm . . . dΗeΛ nΗΜ geneΚallΡ allΗΟ fΗΚ Μhe ΘΗΛΛeΛΛΑΗn Ηf a devotee by the supreme deity. . . . One may attain a spiritual union with God or Allah in a state of mystical ecstasy, but one does not ever become God. 193 On this point, though, Becker seems to be unusually conservative in her reading at least in respect to Christianity.
Possession by the Holy Spirit is not just a twentieth-century Pentecostal phenomenon;194 it is alΛΗ a ΜΗΘΑc Ηf MeΑΛΜeΚ EcΓhaΚΜ Λ ΛeΚmΗnΛ. In his fifth sermon, Eckhart discusses the power of human will to draw
. . . thought and all the powers of the soul after it in its train, so that the soul becomes one with God by grace, as the Holy Ghost is one with the Father and with the Son by nature. . . . If man might only abide in this union, and do all the works which have ever been done by creatures, he would be no other than God, if his higher powers so brought his lower powers under control, that he could only work God-like works.195
190 Becker, Deep Listeners, 135, 139-140. 191 Ibid., 138-140. ThΑΛ ΑΛ ΘΚΗbablΡ Μhe mΗΛΜ cΗnΜΚΗveΚΛΑal Ηf BecΓeΚ Λ aΛΛeΚΜΑΗnΛ. TΗ ΛΝmmaΚΑΣe aΚgΝmenΜΛ against it: 1) Are these brain impulses really a sign that music is becoming a part of the core consciousness? 2) The means by which Becker measures these synapses are extremely unreliable; they perhaps measure simple physical movement, and not brain activity 3) It is difficult to measure this type of brain activity during a trance-inducing ritual. 192 Ibid., 144. 193 Ibid., 42. 194 See WΑllΑam ClemenΜΛ (1976), CΗnveΚΛΑΗn and CΗmmΝnΑΜaΛ Αn Western Folklore 35 (I): 35-45. 195 Eckhart, Sermons, 15; emphasis mine. 184
It is worth noting ΜhaΜ manΡ Ηf EcΓhaΚΜ Λ ΘaΛΛageΛ ΟeΚe ΗffΑcΑallΡ cΗndemned bΡ Μhe ChΝΚch after his death; the passage above is just one statement thought to be heretical. However,
EcΓhaΚΜ Λ cenΜΚal claim is not substantively different from the many discussions of the Holy
Spirit in the Bible especially within the Book of Acts.
It seems very likely that some monks would reach a state of trance as understood by
Becker. While none of the monks that I spoke with used that specific verbiage, they nonetheless matched the characteristics that Becker described: strong emotion, intense focus, loss of a sense of self, and cessation of inner language sometimes accompanied by amnesia (or, in the case of the monks, the loss of a natural sense of time). The environment in which they work is conducive to this learned behavior, and the conditions for trance occur with such regularity that it would be unusual for a monk not to have had these experiences with at least some regularity. (Especially since, as Schechner theorized, the inner being of the performer in this case, the monks will grow to match his outer performance.) The monastery, the monks, the ritual, and the music all cΗnΜΚΑbΝΜe ΜΗ BecΓeΚ Λ nΗΜΑΗn Ηf habitus of listening, the term she coined that accounts for the numerous feelings monks have about their rituals
ΑnclΝdΑng a cΗmΘleΜe eΠchange Ηf Ηne Λ aΝΜΗbΑΗgΚaΘhΑcal Λelf for the divine. Since monastic chant is situated in a frame in which this occurs, divine possession is even more likely.
In my introduction to this dissertation, I recalled a conversation that I had with one of my colleagues about the monks with whom I had spent time. While I concede that much of what they do is surprisingly normal and one might argue un-Romantic, one finds that a deeper look into Benedictine life reveals many universes of thought, feeling, and symbol buried within their music and ritual. I hope that this work has not only shed some light on
185 what is beyond the surface, but will inspire others to take similarly close looks at other mΝΛΑcal ΑnΛΜΑΜΝΜΑΗnΛ, cΗmmΝnΑΜΑeΛ, ΟΗΚΓΛ, and ΘeΚfΗΚmanceΛ, and aΛΓ, WhaΜ Αf…?
186
APPENDIX A
BENEDICT’S GUIDELINES FOR THE DIVINE OFFICE
Chapter Action discussed Time Discussed Special Instruction 8:1-3 Vigils Nov. 1 Easter Arise at 8th hour (Middle of night) 8:4 Vigils Easter Nov. 1 Arise at whatever time necessary to complete Vigils and still have time befΗΚe daΡbΚeaΓ (LaΝdΛ) ΜΗ caΚe fΗΚ naΜΝΚe Λ needΛ 9 Vigils Order of the Ps. 50:17 Office Psalm 3 Psalm 94 Ambrosian Hymn 6 Psalms (w/ refrain) Versicle Blessing (Abbot) Three readings Gloria 6 Psalms (w/ refrain) Reading from the Apostle Versicle Litany (Kyrie) 10 Vigils Order in Summer Same as above, but instead of three ΚeadΑngΛ, One fΚΗm Μhe Old TeΛΜamenΜ . . . ΚecΑΜed bΡ heaΚΜ. Always at least 12 Psalms recited, plus Psalms 3 & 94 11 Vigils Sundays Arise earlier
187
6 Psalms (According to 18:6, beginning with Psalm 20 Versicle 4 Readings + Responsories Gloria 6 Psalms Versicle 4 Readings + Responsories 3 Canticles (Chosen by Abbot) (/w Alleluia refrain) Versicle Blessing (Abbot) 4 Readings (NT) + Responsories Te Deum Gospel readings + Amen Te decet laus Final blessing Go straight into Lauds 12 Lauds Sundays Psalm 66 Psalm 50 + Alleluia Psalms 117 & 62 CanΜΑcle ( BenedΑcΑΜe ) Psalms 148-150 ReadΑng fΚΗm AΘΗcalΡΘΛe ΚecΑΜed bΡ heaΚΜ + ΚeΛΘΗnΛΗΚΡ Ambrosian hymn Versicle Gospel Canticle Litany Conclusion 13:1-3, 10-14 Lauds All other days Psalm 66 Psalm 50 2 Psalms (See 13:4-9)
188
Canticle from the Prophets ( accΗΚdΑng ΜΗ Μhe ΘΚacΜΑce Ηf Μhe RΗman ChΝΚch ) Psalms 148-150 ReadΑng fΚΗm Μhe AΘΗΛΜle ΚecΑΜed bΡ heaΚΜ + ΚeΛΘΗnΛΗΚΡ Ambrosian Hymn Versicle Gospel canticle Litany CΗnclΝΛΑΗn (+EnΜΑΚe LΗΚd Λ PΚaΡeΚ recited) 13:4 Lauds Mondays Psalms 5 & 35 13:5 Lauds Tuesdays Psalms 42 & 56 13:6 Lauds Wednesdays Psalms 63 & 64 13:7 Lauds Thursdays Psalms 87 & 89 13:8 Lauds Fridays Psalms 75 & 91 13:9 Lauds Saturdays Psalm 142 Canticle AΝdΑΜe, cæli, quæ lΗΙΝΗΚ (Deut. 32) divided into 2 Gloria 14 Vigils Feast/Saint Days Follow Sunday order, but with PΛalmΛ, ΚefΚaΑnΛ and ΚeadΑngΛ ΘΚΗΘeΚ ΜΗ Μhe daΡ ΑΜΛelf 15:1 AllelΝΑa Easter Pentecost Said with Psalms and responsories 15:2 AllelΝΑa Pentecost Lent Said only with the last six psalms of Vigils 15:3 AllelΝΑa Sundays, Said at Vigils, Lauds, Prime, Terce, Pentecost Lent SeΠΜ, and NΗne; aΜ VeΛΘeΚΛ a ΚefΚaΑn ΑΛ ΝΛed 15:4 AllelΝΑa Pentecost Easter Never said with responsories (only between Easter and Pentecost)
189
16 Office (General) Daytime BΚeaΓ Μhe daΡ ΑnΜΗ Λeven hΗΝΚΛ accΗΚdΑng ΜΗ Μhe ΛcΚΑΘΜΝΚe Seven ΜΑmeΛ a daΡ have I ΘΚaΑΛed ΡΗΝ (PΛ. 118:164): Lauds, Prime, Terce, Sext, None, Vespers, Compline; Vigils is celebrated at night according to the ΛcΚΑΘΜΝΚe AΜ mΑdnΑghΜ I aΚΗΛe ΜΗ gΑve ΡΗΝ ΘΚaΑΛe (PΛ. 118:62) 18:1 All offices Always OΘen ΟΑΜh DeΝΛ Αn adΑΝΜΗΚΑΝm Gloria 17:2-4 Prime (General) After opening, Hymn 3 Psalms + Gloria Reading Versicle Kyrie Dismissal 18:2 Prime Sunday Psalm 118 (4 sections) 18:4 Prime Monday Psalms 1, 2, 6 18:5 Prime All other days 3 Psalms each day from Psalms 7 to 19, in consecutive order (Psalms 9 & 17 broken into two) 17:5-6 Terce, Sext, None All Same schedule as Prime 18:3 Terce, Sext, None Monday Remaining sections of Psalm 118 (three sections each) 18:7-11 Terce, Sext, None Tues. Sat. 3 Psalms each hour from 119-127 17:7-8 Vespers Always 4 Psalms or less (See 18:12-18) + refrains Reading + responsory Ambrosian hyn Versicle Gospel Canticle Litany
190
LΗΚd Λ PΚaΡeΚ (ΚecΑΜed Αn fΝll) Dismissal 18:12-18 Vespers All days 4 Psalms, from 109-147, omitting those already recited (Ps. 117-127; Ps. 133; Ps. 142), dividing those that are too long (Ps. 138, 143, 144), and joining 116 to 115 17:9-10 Compline Always 3 Psalms w/o refrain (See 18:19) Hymn Reading VeΚΛΑcle ( KΡΚΑe ) Blessing Dismissal 18:19 Compline All days Psalms 4, 90, 133 18:20-21 Vigils All days Remaining Psalms to be distributed evenly over these days, according to chapters 8-11
191
APPENDIX B
IRB STATEMENT ON ORAL HISTORY PROJECTS
192
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Angrosino, Michael. CΗnveΚΛaΜΑΗnΛ Αn a MΗnaΛΜeΚΡ. The Oral History Review 19, nos. 1 & 2 (Spring & Autumn, 1991): 55-73.
Augustine and Luc Verheijen. La regle de saint Augustine. Translated by Robert Russell. Paris: Études Augustiniennes, 1967. http://faculty.georgetown.edu/jod/augustine/ruleaug.html.
BaeΚ, MaΚΓΝΛ and GΚeg R. Oldham. The CΝΚvΑlΑneaΚ Relation Between Experienced Creative Time Pressure and Creativity: Moderating Effects of Openness to Experience and Support for CreativiΜΡ. Journal of Applied Psychology 91, no. 4 (2006): 963-970.
Becker, Judith. Deep Listeners: Music, Emotion, and Trancing. Bloomington, IN: Indiana University, 2004.
BecΓeΚ, JΝdΑΜh. EΜhnΗmΝΛΑcΗlΗgΡ and EmΘΑΚΑcΑΛm Αn Μhe TΟenΜΡ-FΑΚΛΜ CenΜΝΚΡ. Ethnomusicology 53, no. 3 (Fall 2009): 478-501.
Benedict and Timothy Fry. RB 1980: The Rule of St. Benedict in Latin and English with Notes. Collegeville, Minn.: Liturgical Press, 1981.
Benedict XVI. Sacramentum Caritatis. Libreria Editrice Vaticana, 2007. http://w2.vatican.va/content/benedict- xvi/en/apost_exhortations/documents/hf_ben-xvi_exh_20070222_sacramentum- caritatis.html.
BenΑgnΑ, UmbeΚΜΗ. PΗΘe LeΗ XIII. The Catholic Encyclopedia, vol. 9. New York: Robert Appleton Company, 1910, accessed March 02, 2016. http://www.newadvent.org/cathen/09169a.htm.
BenΑgnΑ, UmbeΚΜΗ. PΗΘe PΑΝΛ X. The Catholic Encyclopedia, vol. 12. New York: Robert Appleton Company, 1911, accessed March 02, 2016. http://www.newadvent.org/cathen/12137a.htm.
Bergeron, Katherine. Decadent Enchantments: The Revival of Gregorian Chant at Solesmes. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1998.
Bourdieu, Pierre. An Invitation to Reflexive Sociology. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1992.
193
Bourdieu, Pierre. Outline of a Theory of Practice rev. ed. Translated by Richard Nice. New York: Cambridge University Press, 1977. Kindle Edition.
BΚΝbaΓeΚ, WΑllΑam RΗgeΚΛ. The FΚench RevΗlΝΜΑΗn and Μhe InvenΜΑΗn Ηf CΑΜΑΣenΛhΑΘ. French Politics and Society 7, no. 3 (Summer 1989): 30-49.
Cambridge University Press. Psalms. Vol. 20 of Cambridge Bible for Schools and Colleges. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1906.
Chantin, Jean-PΑeΚΚe. DeΛ ΒanΛénΑΛΜeΛ enΜΚe ΗΚΜhΗdΗΠΑe eΜ dΑΛΛΑdence aΝ débΝΜ dΝ XIXe ΛΑècle, Histoire@Politique 18 (September 2012). http://www.histoire- politique.fr/index.php?numero=18&rub=dossier&item=174.
Chartier, Roger. The Cultural Origins of the French Revolution. Translated by Lydia G. Cochran. Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 1991.
CleaΚ CΚeeΓ AbbeΡ Ηn EWTN LΑve 2014 2 26 FΚ PhΑlΑΘ AndeΚΛΗn. YΗΝTΝbe vΑdeΗ, 56:35. FΚΗm Μhe ΜelevΑΛed ΘΚΗgΚam EWTN Live, with Mitch PacΟa S. J., ΗΚΑgΑnallΡ bΚΗadcaΛΜ FebΚΝaΚΡ 26, 2014. PΗΛΜed bΡ CleaΚCΚeeΓ MΗnΓ MaΚch 1, 2014. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-0bNJJPJlaM.
ClemenΜΛ, WΑllΑam M. CΗnveΚΛΑΗn and CΗmmΝnΑΜaΛ. Western Folklore 35, no. 1 (1976): 35- 45.
Combe, Pierre. The Restoration of Gregorian Chant: Solesmes and the Vatican Edition. Translated by Theodore N. Marier and William Skinner. Washington, D.C.: The Catholic University Press, 2003.
DelCΑamΘΗ, MaΜΜheΟ. BΝΡΑng SΘΑΚΑΜΝalΑΜΡ: CΗmmΗdΑΜΡ and MeanΑng Αn AmeΚΑcan KΑΚΜan MΝΛΑc. MaΛΜeΚ Λ TheΛΑΛ, The FlΗΚΑda SΜaΜe UnΑveΚΛΑΜΡ, 2012. http://purl.flvc.org/fsu/fd/FSU_migr_etd-4793.
Doyle, William. Origins of the French Revolution 2nd ed. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1989.
Durkheim, Emile. The Elementary Forms of Religious Life. Translated by Carol Cosman. Oxford: Oxford University Press, [1912] 2001.
Eckhart, Johannes. Meister Eckhart’s Sermons. Edited and translated by Claud Field. Grand Rapids, MI: Christian Classics Ethereal Library. Accessed March 10, 2016, http://www.ccel.org/ccel/eckhart/sermons.pdf.
194
Edelstein, Dan. The Enlightenment: A Genealogy. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 2010.
Eliade, Mircea. Cosmos and History: The Myth of the Eternal Return translated by Willard R. Trask. New York: Harper Torchbooks, 1959.
Evans-Pritchard, E. E. Nuer Religion rev. ed. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1971.
FΗΚd, HΝgh. SΜ. BenedΑcΜ Ηf NΝΚΛΑa. The Catholic Encyclopedia, vol. 2. New York: Robert Appleton Company, 1907. http://www.newadvent.org/cathen/02467b.htm.
FΚΗhΗcΓ, FΚed M. SacΚed TeΠΜΛ. Religion 33, no. 1 (2013): 1-21. doi: 10.1016/S0048- 721X(02)00061-1.
Gay, Peter. The Enlightenment: An Interpretation. Vol. I, The Rise of Modern Paganism. New York: Knopf, 1966.
Geertz, Clifford. The Interpretation of Cultures. New York: Basic Books, 1973.
GΗΡaΝ, GeΗΚgeΛ. FΚench RevΗlΝΜΑΗn. The Catholic Encyclopedia, vol. 13. New York: Robert Appleton Company, 1912. http://www.newadvent.org/cathen/13009a.htm.
GΚeΡ, ThΗmaΛ S. HanΛlΑcΓ, EdΝaΚd. Grove Music Online. Oxford Music Online. Oxford University Press, accessed March 02, 2016, www.oxfordmusiconline.com.
Guéranger, Dom Prosper. The Church: Or, the Society of Divine Praise edited and translated anΗnΡmΗΝΛlΡ bΡ A SecΝlaΚ PΚΑeΛΜ. LΗndΗn: BΝΚnΛ & OaΜeΛ, LΑmΑΜed, 1892.
Hilton, Michael. Bar Mitzvah: A History. Philadelphia: The Jewish Publication Society, 2014.
Horgan, James J. Pioneer College: The Centenial History of Saint Leo College, Saint Leo Abbey, and Holy Name Priory. St. Leo, FL: Saint Leo College Press, 1989.
Ingold, Tim. The Life of Lines. New York: Routledge, 2015.
JameΛ, WΑllΑam. VaΚΑeΜΑeΛ Ηf RelΑgΑΗΝΛ PeΚfΗΚmance. In William James: The Essential Writings, edited by Bruce W. Wilshire, 222-261. Albany, NY: State University of New York Press, 1984.
Knowles, Dom David. The Benedictines: A Digest for Moderns. St. Leo, FL: The Abbey Press, 1962.
195
L abbaΡe BenedΑcΜΑne. hΜΜΘ://fΗnΜgΗmbaΝlΜ.ΘageΛΘeΚΛΗ-orange.fr/abbaye.htm.
LΑbΚeΚΑa EdΑΜΚΑce VaΜΑcana. BΑΗgΚaΘhΡ Ηf HΑΛ HΗlΑneΛΛ, PΗΘe BenedΑcΜ XVI. 2005. AcceΛΛed March 04, 2016, http://w2.vatican.va/content/benedict- xvi/en/biography/documents/hf_ben-xvi_bio_20050419_short-biography.html.
Lockwood, Lewis, et al. PaleΛΜΚΑna, GΑΗvannΑ PΑeΚlΝΑgΑ da. Grove Music Online. Oxford Music Online. Oxford University Press. Accessed April 6, 2016, www.oxfordmusiconline.com.
MΑllaΚe, RΗland. The SΘΑΚΑΜ Ηf Μhe LΑΜΝΚgΑcal MΗvemenΜ: A BenedΑcΜΑne ReneΟal Ηf CΝlΜΝΚe. Logos: A Journal of Catholic Thought and Culture 17 no. 4 (Fall 2014): 130-154. http://muse.jhu.edu/journals/log/summary/v017/17.4.millare.html.
MΗnelle, RaΡmΗnd. MΝΛΑc and Μhe PeΑΚcean TΚΑchΗΜΗmΑeΛ. International Review of the Aesthetics and Sociology of Music 22, no. 1 (June 1991): 99-108.
MΗΚaΛ, EΣeΙΝΑel RΝΑΣ. Communitas, Ritual Action and Open Identities Among the Toba TaΓΛeΓ Ηf Μhe CenΜΚal ChacΗ. Indiana 22 (2005): 45-53.
OlaveΛΗn, TΑm. CΗllecΜΑve EffeΚveΛcence and CΗmmΝnΑΜaΛ: PΚΗceΛΛΝal MΗdelΛ Ηf RΑΜΝal and SΗcΑeΜΡ Αn EmΑle DΝΚΓheΑm and VΑcΜΗΚ TΝΚneΚ. Dialectical Anthropology 26, no. 2 (June 2001): 99-124.
Ong, Walter. Orality and Literacy: The Technologizing of the Word. New York: Routledge, [1982] 2002.
Parry, D. L. L. and Pierre Girard. France Since 1800: Squaring the Hexagon. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002.
Paul VI. Sacrosanctum Concilium. Second Vatican Council. Vatican (1963). http://www.vatican.va/archive/hist_councils/ii_vatican_council/documents/vat- ii_const_19631204_sacrosanctum-concilium_en.html.
Payzant, Geoffrey. HanΛlΑcΓ, SamΛ, GaΡ, and Tönend BeΟegΜe Formen. The Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism 40, no. 1 (Autumn, 1981): 41-48.
PeΟ ReΛeaΚch CenΜeΚ. U.S. PΝblΑc becΗmΑng LeΛΛ RelΑgΑΗΝΛ. NΗvembeΚ 3, 2015 (AcceΛΛed 23 February 2016). http://www.pewforum.org/2015/11/03/chapter-2-religious-practices- and-experiences.
196
Pius X. Moto Proprio: TΚa le SΗllecΑΜΝdΑnΑ. NΗvembeΚ 22, 1903; acceΛΛed MaΚch 02, 2016, http://www.adoremus.org/MotuProprio.html.
Plato. Plato in Twelve Volumes, Vol. 1. Edited and translated by Harold North Fowler. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1966.
Ratzinger, Joseph. Faith and Future. San Francisco: Ignatius Press, [1970] 2009.
Ratzinger, Joseph. The Spirit of the Liturgy. San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 2000.
Rice, Timothy. TΗΟaΚd a MedΑaΜΑΗn Ηf FΑeld MeΜhΗdΛ and FΑeld EΠΘeΚΑence Αn Ethnomusicology. In Shadows in the Field: New Perspectives for Fieldwork in Ethnomusicology, 2nd ed., edited by Gregory Barz and Timothy J. Cooley, 42-61. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2008.
RΗΛΛΗ, BΚenΜ D. CΚeaΜΑvΑΜΡ and CΗnΛΜΚaΑnΜΛ: EΠΘlΗΚΑng Μhe RΗle Ηf CΗnΛΜΚaΑnΜΛ Αn Μhe CΚeaΜΑve PΚΗceΛΛeΛ Ηf ReΛeaΚch and DevelΗΘmenΜ TeamΛ. Organization Studies 34, no. 4 (2014): 551-585.
Schlereth, Thomas J. The Cosmopolitan Ideal in Enlightenment Thought. Notre Dame, IN: University of Notre Dame Press, 1977.
Society of St. Gregory of America. The Black List: Disapproved Music [1922]. Accessed April 17, 2016, http://media.musicasacra.com/pdf/blacklist.pdf.
Turner, Victor. The Ritual Process: Structure and Anti-Structure. Chicago: Aldine Publishing, 1969.
TΝΚneΚ, VΑcΜΗΚ. BeΜΟΑΠΜ and BeΜΟeen: The LΑmΑnal PeΚΑΗd Αn Rites de Passage. In The Forest of Symbols: Aspects of Ndembu Ritual, 93-111. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1967.
Turner, Victor, and Edith Turner. Image and Pilgrimage in Christian Culture. New York: Columbia University Press, 1978.
Van Gennep, Arnold. The Rites of Passage. Translated by Monka B. Vizedom and Gabrielle L. Caffee. London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1960.
Vasquez, Manuel. More than Belief: A Materialist Theory of Religion. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2010.
197
WΑeΚmann, BaΚbaΚa. Bach-GeΛellΛchafΜ. Grove Music Online. Oxford Music Online. Oxford University Press, accessed March 02, 2016, www.oxfordmusiconline.com.
198
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH
When asked by his family and teachers what he wanted to be when he grew up, a young Brian Wilcoxon eΠΘlaΑned ΜhaΜ he ΟanΜed ΜΗ be an eveΚΡΜhΑng dΗeΚ. In adolescence, he recognized the folly of his earlier statements, but held a wish deep inside that he could be the one person who could do it all. As a freshman at Monmouth College, he jumped between majors before settling on Classics and Music, a rather unlikely pair but ones that seemed to fit
BΚΑan Λ ΘaΚΜΑcΝlaΚ cΝΚΑΗΛΑΜΑeΛ aΜ ΜhaΜ ΘΗΑnΜ Αn ΜΑme.
Brian discovered musicology through the close instruction of his professors Ian
Moschenross and Steve Richter, and ΘΝΚΛΝed a MaΛΜeΚ Λ degΚee Αn MΝΛΑc HΑΛΜΗΚΡ aΜ Butler
UnΑveΚΛΑΜΡ ΝndeΚ Μhe ΜΝΜelage Ηf JameΛ BΚΑΛcΗe. DeΛΘΑΜe DΚ. BΚΑΛcΗe Λ FΚancΗΘhΑlΑc
ΘΚedΑlecΜΑΗn, BΚΑan ΟΚΗΜe hΑΛ MaΛΜeΚ Λ ΜheΛΑΛ Ηn gΚΝnge aeΛΜheΜΑcΛ fΗΝnd Αn Μhe mΝΛΑc Ηf
Nirvana. His diverse interests found a home at Florida State University where he completed hΑΛ Ph.D. Αn MΝΛΑcΗlΗgΡ. AlΜhΗΝgh he haΛ nΗΜ ΡeΜ dΗne eveΚΡΜhΑng, BΚΑan haΛ fΗΝnd ΜhaΜ
Musicology has allowed him the opportunity to read, write, teach, play, think, and explore the world in numerous ways and he feels quite content with the possibility of possibilities in this field.
Brian currently lives in Tallahassee with his wife Kimi and their two cats, Olive and
Violet.
199