I am leading the music at an ordination to the priesthood tonight, which is something I have not done in a number of years.
I have attended a few ordinations since then, however, and I have noticed something about the music at the consecration of the priest. This part of the liturgy begins with specific music. The rubrics of the 1979 Book of Common Prayer (BCP) require one of two hymns to be sung here: the Veni Creator Spiritus, or the Veni Sancte Spiritus.
The hymn, Veni Creator Spiritus, or the hymn, Veni Sancte Spiritus, is sung.
Specific hymns are mentioned in the rubrics sparingly, other instances being Palm Sunday (“All glory, laud, and honor”) and Good Friday (“sing my tongue, the glorious battle”), though neither of these is required.
It is worthwhile to note several things about this:
- There are only two options, and both are named in the rubric (unlike Palm Sunday or Good Friday, nothing else may be sung instead).
- Both hymns are associated with the Day of Pentecost: Veni Creator Spiritus is a proper hymn sung at Terce and Vespers; Veni Sancte Spiritus is a sequence for the Mass.
- The rubric requires that a hymn be sung, but it does not specify who sings it.
There are certainly options for both hymns in congregational resources in the Episcopal Church. But if we parse the rubric a bit, perhaps this does not preclude one of the hymns from being sung by the choir alone, or perhaps by a cantor? Indeed, the traditional plainsong melody of Veni Creator Spiritus sung in the original Latin could be sung by a choir or a solo cantor.
It has been my experience at every ordination I have attended in the Episcopal Church that the music sung here is invariably Veni Sancte Spiritus by Jacques Berthier (1923-1994) from the Taizé Community. For better or for worse, this is undoubtedly music of its time and place. But the only words that end up in the mouths of the congregation is the three-word refrain "Veni Sancte Spiritus." More often than not, in my experience, the optional cantor parts (which provide the remaining words of the hymn, in English) are omitted. If they are sung, they may not be clearly understood or even printed for the congregation to read. The effect is contemplative and can be a very spiritual invocation of the Holy Spirit for many. But is it rubrical? When the cantor part is left off, probably not.
The Hymnal 1982 provides three options for singing Veni Sancte Spiritus in English and in its fullness.
- Hymn 226 - Veni Sancte Spiritus. This is a traditional plainsong sequence in Mode 1 from the Dubliner Troper. The words begin, “Come, thou Holy Spirit bright,” a translation by Charles Price.
- Hymn 227 - Arbor Street. A snaking 20th century tune by William Albright that melds chromatic slithers with fifths and octaves. The words are also by Price.
- Hymn 228 - Webbe. An 18th century tune. The translation here begins, “Holy Spirit, font of light,” and is by John Webster Grant.
I genuinely like the first tune, but I think the latter are problematic for an ordination:
Hymn 227 (Arbor Street) is intentionally inaccessible. It is one of a handful of outlandish tunes by Albright that were included in the Hymnal 1982. I don't believe I've ever had occasion to use this tune. I do enjoy the Albright tunes Albright (for Communion) and Petra (for Eastertide), both of which I've used with choirs and congregations.
Hymn 228 (Webbe)—and here's where my general feeling is perhaps shaped by always having sung the Taizé music at the consecration—is just too boring. This is a special moment in the liturgy and it seems to demand something to fit the moment. I just don't think this standard hymn is it. Maybe my prejudice is misplaced, but I think Hymn 228 could easily be tuned out as "just another hymn." The moment seems to demand something special.
That leaves us with Hymn 226 (Veni Sancte Spiritus). This tune is about a thousand years old, so it immediately links us with the longer tradition of the church. This plainsong sequence was first included in the Hymnal 1940. And, as is often the case, we've lost something from the Hymnal 1940 that can greatly benefit a congregation's participation in this hymn. A footnote at the bottom of this hymn in that hymnal reads: “The stanzas may be sung by alternating groups, changing at each repeat mark.” I was gratified to find this suggestion here, because it was an idea I had arrived at on my own when considering how this hymn might be sung.
The plainsong sequence Veni Creator Spiritus has unique phrases, but each one repeats. So the musical form for six stanzas could be rendered as AA BB CC DD EE FF. Some of the stanzas share common musical elements, but each one is distinct.
Rather than overwhelm a congregation with six different stanzas of different music, why not have the choir introduce each phrase of the hymn and have the congregation join in thereafter? So the choir would sing the first A (“Come, thou Holy Spirit bright”), and the congregation would join in for the repeat of A (“Come, protector of the poor”). I have added rubrics for “Choir” and “All,” also bolding the text that the congregation sings to add clarity.
The Hymnal 1940 prints repeat signs, but I think it's more clear for a modern congregation to simply follow a continuous line of music and not have to look back. The tradeoff, for avid music readers, is the inability to see at a glance that the music of each phrase is a literal repeat.
Here's a sample of what the congregation will sing from tonight:
I'm happy to share this with any colleagues who could use it. Please contact me if you would like a copy.
I also particularly enjoy the content of what we're singing about, especially in one of the hottest weeks of the year: “In our labor, be our aid; / in our summer cooling shade.”
This hymn also speaks to the winter months: “Bend the stubborn heart and will; / melt the frozen, warm the chill”
After the hymn invokes the extreme ranges in temperature on this planet, it culminates in a petition that involves the whole universe.
Grant us thy salvation, Lord, boundless mercy our reward, joys which earth and heaven entwine.
Labels: Gregorian chant, Hymn 226, Hymn 227, Hymn 228, Hymnal 1940, Hymnal 1982, ordination, Veni Sancte Spiritus
On an August 29 a number of years ago, as I was praying the collect for St. Augustine of Hippo, I could not help but hear strains of music emerging from amidst the very words of the prayer. I said “Amen” at the end of the prayer, closed the book, and allowed myself to be lost in a sacred music reverie.
I thought about all the music I had chosen and directed over the past several years, trying to determine the piece in question. And then, through an incense-filled haze, my mind led me to that sublime temple of Episcopal worship down the road, the Church of St. Michael and St. George in Clayton, Missouri. It was there, under the superb direction of Robert Lehman, that the assembled choirs sang “O thou that art the light” by Gabriel Jackson.
“O thou that art the light of the minds that know thee, The life of the souls that love thee, And the strength of the wills that serve thee: Help us to know them that truly love thee, And so to love thee that we might fully serve thee, Whom to serve is perfect freedom. Amen.”
I recalled all of this with fondness earlier this year when I learned one of my colleagues, Zack, is to be ordained to the priesthood on the feast of St. Augustine.
The choir will sing for his ordination, and I could think of no better piece than “O thou that art the light.”
I searched the choir library for other music with texts by Augustine of Hippo and found only a single additional piece: a short motet, “Fecisti nos,” by Philip Radcliffe. This piece sets, in Latin, a familiar phrase from Augustine:
“You made us for yourself, O Lord, and our heart is restless until it rests in you.”
The collect for the feast, the one that brought Jackson's music to mind all those years ago, beautifully synthesizes these two texts: the minds, the souls, and the restless hearts (or wills, in the translation Jackson uses).
Lord God, the light of the minds that know you, the life of the souls that love you, and the strength of the hearts that serve you: Help us, following the example of your servant, Augustine of Hippo, so to know you that we may truly love you, and so to love you that we may fully serve you, whose service is perfect freedom; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.
Words and music come to us, sometimes unbidden, and help us to name the unutterable.
Over time, music can help to inscribe the words of our faith on our hearts—yes, those restless hearts, the ones prone to wandering.
In our duty, we find delight. In our service, we find freedom.
Labels: Gabriel Jackson, Philip Radcliffe, Robert Lehman, St Michael & St George (St Louis)
Hymn 239 in The English Hymnal is an acrostic that honors St. Bartholomew, whose feast day we celebrate on August 24.
Saints of God! Lo, Jesu’s people Age to age your glory tell; In His Name for us ye labored, Now in bless eternal dwell. Twelve poor men, by Christ anointed, Braved the rich, the wise, the great, All the world counts dear rejecting, Rapt in their apostolate. Thus the earth their death-wounds purchased, Hallowed by the blood therefrom, On her bosom bore the nations, Laved, illumined—Christendom. On this feast, almighty Father, May we praise Thee with the Son, Evermore His love confessing, Who from Both with Both is One.
–John Athelstan Laurie Riley
Labels: Bartholomew, English Hymnal, hymn
The Gospel readings for last Sunday and next (namely John 6:51, which is read on both Sundays) bring to mind a particular line of music. At least they do for me. And perhaps they do for many of us who have been at Lake Delaware Boys' Camp in upstate New York.
Lake Delaware Boys' Camp (LDBC) is a remarkable place. Every morning before breakfast, the entire camp community gathers in the Chapel for Holy Eucharist. On Sundays, all would return for Evensong and Benediction in the afternoon. And one of the pieces of music used at Benediction was a little Mode 1 chant for the words "I am the living bread which came down from heaven" (John 6:51).
Because it was a regular part of daily life, everyone knew about chapel, and it was talked about throughout the day. Because it was only a part of weekly life, Evensong and Benediction held special place in the LDBC imagination. The regular music and chants of this service were extra special.
How special? Well, it wasn't surprising to hear "I am the bread of life" sung at any time and at any place. Maybe someone would remember it while walking to the swimming pool. Or on the soccer field. Maybe it was someone in the camp choir singing it, but maybe not. It was just another part of camp life.
I am the living bread which came down from heaven: if any man eat of this bread, he shall live forever.
It clearly sank in with me too, because, having been away from the camp for more than a decade, I can remember the music clearly.
The source appears to be an antiphon for the Magnificat. Here it is from a Dominican source:
The Rev. G. H. Palmer adapted it to English in his Antiphons Upon the Magnificat and Nunc Dimittis from the Salisbury Antiphoner, where it is sung on the Wednesday after Pentecost. And his rendering of the first phrase, at least, matches the one sung at LDBC.
Even though this is a highly particular instance, it's worth noting how scripture, music, and the liturgy work together to deeply ingrain sacred texts in the hearts and minds of a community. It can shape and transform that community and its members even as they go forth into the world.
Labels: church music, Evensong, Gregorian chant, LDBC, Proper 14B, Proper 15B
An organ work by American composer Alan Hovhaness turned my thoughts to nightingales and whales flying through the air.
In recent weeks, I have been listening to music by Alan Hovhaness, and returned to And God Created Great Whales, Op. 229, No. 1. This is a work for orchestra that incorporates—or, more precisely, relies on—recorded whale song.
Forty-six years before this, Ottorino Respighi's Pines of Rome also included animal sounds. This work, written, in 1924, for orchestra, incorporates recorded nightingale song in the third movement.
Someone at Disney mashed two of these elements together and animated flying whales to the music of Pines of Rome in the 1999 film Fantasia 2000. (Might a Hovhaness/nightingale mashup must be forthcoming from Disney?)
Hovhaness's music is fascinating to me. I also need to suggest here that it is underperformed.
Hovhaness was a prolific composer who wrote well over 500 works. And much of his music has some connection to the natural world. For the discerning organist, I would suggest here taking a look at Dawn Hymn, Op. 138, written in 1954. It is an eminently serviceable composition that stands ready to bring Hovhaness's sound world into liturgical worship.
Labels: Hovhaness, organ music
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