When you must change your life

"Archaic Torso of Apollo" by Rainer Maria Rilke (1875-1926)

Torso of Apollo, Munich. ca 460 BC.

We cannot know his legendary head
with eyes like ripening fruit. And yet his torso
is still suffused with brilliance from inside,
like a lamp, in which his gaze, now turned to low,

gleams in all its power. Otherwise
the curved breast could not dazzle you so, nor could 
a smile run through the placid hips and thighs
to that dark center where procreation flared.

Otherwise this stone would seem defaced
beneath the translucent cascade of the shoulders
and would not glisten like a wild beast’s fur:

would not, from all the borders of itself,
burst like a star: for here there is no place
that does not see you. You must change your life.

Pietro Canonica. The Abyss (detail). 1869.

Disney's Cinderella (2015) : Virtue vs. Victimhood

I just returned home from a lovely spring break with my family, during which my siblings and I treated ourselves to Disney's remake of the classic Cinderella! I not only loved it, I was overjoyed by so many things about the film. I'll try to limit it to a few:

1. The underlying theme throughout the whole film, "Have courage and be kind."Seriously, Disney hasn't made virtue look this good since the good fairies handed Prince Philip the sword of truth in Sleeping Beauty, and that was back in 1959! 
2. A good father-son relationship between the King and the Prince
3. I didn't think anyone could match Anjelica Huston's evil stepmother in Ever After, but Cate Blanchett was equal to the task! I love them both! And speaking of Ever After...
4. I LOVED the subtle tipping-the-hat to Ever After (waving at the gate, Jacqueline the mouse, the Prince and Cinderella stealing away to the enclosed garden amidst castle ruins, Cinderella walking through the rain after the ball, the Spanish princess, etc.)  

I did think Kenneth Branagh was a little heavy-handed with the message (only a little!), but it doesn't change the fact that Kenny is now my hero and I am devastated that he is not directing the live-action remake of Beauty and the Beast! (Belle is and always will be my favorite princess -- bookish girls for the win!) Cinderella set the bar so high that it will be almost impossible for Beauty and the Beast to meet my expectations! Kenny showed us what was possible in beautifully revamping a classic Disney fairytale while purposely avoiding the potential traps of revisionism (*cough* Maleficent and even Tim Burton's Alice in Wonderland).

Lily James and Cate Blanchett in Disney's Cinderella (2015)

Nevertheless, I realized while walking out of the theatre that most modern critics will probably take issue with a classic depiction of Cinderella, not understanding the reasoning behind her submission to the treatment of her step-family. Why does she stay? Why not make a run for it?

Sure enough, Joanna Weiss over at the Boston Globe writes,"It’s hard to escape the idea that Cinderella chooses to be miserable. At the very least, she accepts her step-family’s cruelty." In the original fairy tale, Cinderella's key quality as her ability to endure, also described as her "victimhood." Weiss takes issue with Disney's choice to portray this "victimhood" as a virtue. Similarly, Rebecca Haines, author of The Princess Problem, says the filmmakers hoped to frame Cinderella's endurance as an act of courage, not victimhood. Haines cautions that not every situation should be accepted (or tolerated), adding that not everyone has a fairy godmother to help them out of a tight spot.

G.K. Chesterton writes in his book Orthodoxy that the message of Cinderella is the message of the Magnificat, exaltavit humiles -- "He has cast down the haughty from their seats, and has exalted the humble." Christ re-echoes the message of the Magnificat (and thus, Cinderella) in the proclamation of the Beatitudes in the Sermon on the Mount, "Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the land."

The meek. Meekness. This virtue is at the heart of the issue of Cinderella. Modern minds want empowered or rebellious women, not meek women. What woman actually wants to be meek nowadays? Meek = weak, wimpy, submissive, a pushover, encouraging misogyny and sexism. Right? Even when you look up the word in the Webster Dictionary, it doesn't sound very desirable at first glance, "Meek: quiet, gentle, and easily imposed on; submissive." Submissive is certainly a dirty word nowadays, implying becoming a doormat, relinquishing control.

Viola Davis as Aibileen Clark in The Help (2011)

But is meekness or submissiveness about being a victim, being weak? Let's take a look at another example: Kathryn Stockett's novel The Help. Set in the middle of the Civil Rights Movement in August 1962, a group of African American maids in Jackson, Mississippi collaborate with a white misfit journalist to publish a set of stories about their experiences working for middle-class white housewives and their families. One of the main characters is the maid Aibileen Clark, a soft-spoken 53-year-old woman who has cooked, cleaned, and taken care of white children since she was a teenager. Aibileen is extremely fearful about telling her story (and rightly so) but eventually her love for her son Treelore and the white child she currently cares for, Mae Mobley Leefolt, gives her the courage to go public, albeit anonymously. *SPOILER ALERT* Aibileen's courageous act ultimately causes her to lose her job, but Aibileen is no longer afraid. The movie ends as she reflects, "God says we need to love our enemies. It hard to do. But it can start by telling the truth."

I would like to present Aibileen as an example of meekness at its finest. Aibileen does not lash out at her employers, the Leefolts, even when Mrs. Leefolt is hurtful towards her or Mae Mobley, to whom Aibileen has become particularly attached (unlike another maid in the story, Minnie Jackson, who has a sharp tongue and a knack for revenge and pays for both). During the course of the novel/movie, Aibileen teaches Mae Mobley to believe in herself, telling her, "You is kind. You is smart. You is important." By the end of the story, Aibileen has also found the courage to stand up for herself, not by hurting others, but by telling the truth. And while we all like to root for Minnie and her sass, it is Aibileen who truly inspires us with her heroism.

Aibileen shows us that being meek in one's life is not about weakness. On the contrary, it's about inner strength. It means acknowledging the dignity and worth of every human being, including those who are in authority over you, even when they are wrong and/or they mistreat you. It means rising above the urge to lash out and harm those who hurt us. It doesn't mean accepting things the way they are (this is where courage comes in), but striving to make the world a better place through courage, kindness, and telling the truth. (Just because Cinderella doesn't complain or rebel against her stepfamily does not mean she is accepting of her situation. As she reminds the Prince, "Just because it's what's done doesn't mean it's what should be done.")

Like Cinderella, Aibileen could also be depicted as a victim. However, I would not so much call them victims as I would call them martyrs or saints (saint: a word which here means a person who strives to live the virtuous life; martyr: a word which here means a person who suffers bravely for a cause). As blogger Marc Barnes puts it so eloquently on his blog, Bad Catholic :

"The martyr, then, is not the victim. The victim is referred to some enemy (a victim of a freak boating accident, of the measles, of terrorism) while the martyr is referred to some friend (a martyr for God, for country, for peace). The victim is referred to a moment in the past (she was a victim of gang violence) while the martyr is a martyr by virtue of a quality she has in the present moment, even after she is dead (she is a martyr). The victim is held up to direct our negative attention towards the cause of her victimhood (look at what evil has wrought!) while the martyr is held up to direct our positive attention towards the reason for her martyrdom (look at her incredible faith, her courage, her commitment, her love for God, etc.). The victim’s death works against her life, coming in the form of a homicide, a buffalo stampede, a car crash, all without any meaningful, harmonious relationship to the content of her existence. The martyr’s death, on the other hand, is in profound harmony with the content of her existence. It does not end her life, pulling down the curtain in the midst of Act II, so much as it crowns her life, a fruit and reasonable consequence of its direction and intention — she lived as a Christian and died for it." (Read more: http://www.patheos.com/blogs/badcatholic/2015/02/the-difference-between-a-martyr-and-a-victim.html#ixzz3UVbLq0Zu)

Neither Aibileen nor Cinderella meet with physical death, but Aibileen risks death, and one could easily see Cinderella having the willingness to die for the truth and/or the people she loves. Aibileen is a martyr for the dignity of the human person. Cinderella is a martyr for virtue (charity, courage, kindness). Barnes writes, "The victim is held up to direct our negative attention towards the cause of her victimhood, while the martyr is held up to direct our positive attention towards the reason for her martyrdom." For Aibileen, this is her faith, her courage, her love for God, Treelore, and Mae Mobley). Similarly for Cinderella, this is her faith in her mother's words, her courage, her love for her parents, her home, and her Prince.

But perhaps none of this will make sense to the modern critic. Perhaps Cinderella will never make sense to the modern critic in a culture that has lost touch with its Christian identity. But to the Christian life, Cinderella is a glorious affirmation.

What I'm Up To: February 2015

The Grotto, Notre Dame University

Hello, readers! I know that in the past I have occasionally posted little updates from my personal life (e.g. remodelling my room or shopping finds) but have never really committed to regularly posting about what's going on in my corner of the galaxy. However, this year I decided I'm going to commit to writing a little blurb every month or so about what I have been up to lately -- partly because these will take a little less time than my usual blog posts (which means more blog posts!), and partly because I know I enjoy reading about the goings on of the blog authors I follow, so I hope you feel the same!

I just started my second semester as a DMA student in organ performance at Notre Dame University. I will be completely honest, I did not want to go back to school this semester -- which is very odd for me, as I have never experienced this before. I used to like school. I love to learn, I love to study, and I love to read, so much so that when I was finishing up my last semester at Franciscan U. as an undergrad, I was one of the few seniors who did *not* suffer from acute senioritis. Well, it hit me this year, BIG TIME, and the bad news is : I have two and a half years to go before I am handed my expensive piece of paper saying I am a doctor!

Over winter break, I kept asking myself -- why don't you want to go back? And I came up with three reasons:

1) Part of it was due to a few of the classes I took last fall, which left me dissatisfied and frustrated, but that happens, and that's not enough to quit school.

2) Part of it was  due to my frustration with myself. The organ at Notre Dame is unlike any instrument I have encountered thus far in my career as an organist. It is extremely sensitive to the touch of the player, forcing him/her to be very precise when they play. For this reason, most of my lessons and practice time have been focused largely on technique rather than learning lots of repertoire. Improving performance technique is good and extremely important, but I have to be patient with myself, and that's hard because I can usually pick up things relatively quickly. 

3) But I think the primary reason why I wanted to leave was because of my internship as a music director! As some of you know, I started working as the music director at a small episcopal church near Notre Dame and, as it turns out, I love being a music director! While it has definitely challenged me in many ways, (there are currently six people in our choir including myself), there are definitely a lot of good things going on (I get to play one of the best instruments in town every week), and it came to the point where I wished I could forget school and doctoral recitals and dissertations so I could devote all of my energy and time to building up the music program at this church!

So some of you are probably wondering, why don't you just leave?

Three things: 1) The organ and my teacher have shown me that I still have a lot to learn, and so I am going to take advantage of both of these fantastic teachers while I still can! 2) There are plenty of other church musician skills which I can learn and improve upon while I am in school, especially things like vocal technique (a.k.a. good singing techniques), choral conducting, how to cultivate a healthy, vibrant children's choir, how to fund raise, etc. In short, there are still plenty of gaps in my training which I would like to try and fill as much as possible before I head out into the job field! 3) And *least* importantly, I still want to be able to write the letters "Dr." in front of my name someday... and I hope that doesn't sound terribly pretentious...

So far, this semester has been better ... I am making progress with my recital music *and* my technique (woo!), I like all of my classes, and I am taking voice lessons on the side both for my own personal development and (more importantly) to gain more experience/knowledge as a singer so I feel more confident standing in front of a church choir!
 
So, yes, I may not be able to be a full-fledged music director I want to be just yet (and, as I understand it, this is constantly a work-in-progress), but on the bright side, I suppose it's good to find out that you enjoy what you want to do!

Until next time!

Reading: Kristin Lavransdatter: The Wife by Sigrid Undset
Watching: Downton Abbey, Agent Carter
Listening: Alice in Wonderland Soundtrack by Danny Elfman
Quote: "It was Freak who told me about King Arthur. How he got this round table, and how he got the bravest knights, and the whole world to sit at that table. 'You will be brothers,' said King Arthur. 'And you will fight for all those who ask for help. You will be gentle to the weak, but terrible to the wicked.' It was Freak who told me about King Arthur. It was Freak who told me everything." -- The Mighty, 1998.

Into the Woods is not a Morality Play

Over the holiday season, I went with a couple of friends to see the film adaption of Into the Woods. I first watched Sondheim's musical during my senior year of college via the video recording of the original production on Broadway, and I must admit, I did not like it the first time. I enjoyed the first half, but I was uncomfortable with the moral ambiguity of the second half.

Nevertheless, I must admit I was excited when I saw the previews for the new film adaption (but who doesn't love the idea of Meryl Streep playing a fabulous witch, let's be honest)! Furthermore, my first impression of the story was removed enough that I thought I could approach the story again with a cleansed palate. And I must say that I enjoyed the second viewing much more than the first, appreciating the second half much more. Why? Because unlike typical traditional fables and fairy tales, I realized that Into the Woods is not meant to serve as a morality play/story.

I think that Sondheim was trying to write a modern fairy tale -- not modern in setting where a classic story of good and evil takes place in contemporary society, but modern in the sense that the characters, their values, and their choices reflect tendencies in 20th and 21st century society. In other words, if the story of Cinderella took place according to the values of modern society, what might have happened? I think this mode of interpretation is key to understanding the underlying themes of Into the Woods and reconciling these values with viewers who aline themselves with a more conservative value system. To be sure, this interpretation does not justify the moral choices of some of the characters, nor does it make it appropriate for young audiences. Nevertheless, I do believe it is an intriguing study for mature audiences that shows the artistic brilliance of Sondheim as a contemporary storyteller.  

How does the show reflect tendencies in 20th and 21st century society?

*SPOILER ALERT* 

#1. Indecision. One of my personal favorites is the character Cinderella. Cinderella represents the millenial generation, those of my generation who are floating from one job to another because they are uncertain what they really want in life. She knows she ought to marry the Prince and escape her impoverished, abusive life with her step-family, but she's uncertain if that's what she really wants. The outcome of her story proves that her misgivings are not unfounded, but her inability to commit to a decision is a common trait among many of my own friends and extended family.

#2. Greed/Ambition vs. Gratitude. This is represented most clearly by the Prince and the Baker's wife, who by the second half have had their wishes come true (a child for the Baker and his wife and a bride for the Prince. And yet, the fulfillment of their wishes leaves them unsatisfied and somewhat disappointed. Thus, they fall prey to lust and in a moment of passion commit an act of adultery. The trouble is that they ought to be satisfied with what they have. Both seem to have a good life -- not perfect, but good -- yet both are still unsatisfied. Although Sondheim's conception of dissatisfaction is realized in the form of lust and adultery, it is also actualized in our culture's rampant materialism. Jack follows a similar pattern though in a different way. He experiences a sexual awakening while visiting the giant for the first time. But lust and curiosity drive him to visit the giant again and again, eventually bringing trouble and even death to the villagers, including his own mother. As actress Emily Blunt (the Baker's wife) stated beautifully in the featurette regarding the themes of the story, "You should look at what you have rather than what you want."

#3. Niceness vs. Goodness. The Witch informs a group of the characters towards the climax of the film, "You're not good, you're not bad, you're just nice." Similarly, when Cinderella confronts her prince about his infidelity, he retorts, "I was raised to be charming, not sincere." Nowadays, we are far more careful to be "nice" rather than good. Being nice to people as a general rule means being polite and not offending people, tolerating other views and life choices which we may not necessarily agree with ourselves. Now not all of this is a bad thing. It is important to be kind, to be polite, and to be tolerant of others, but we should never have to sacrifice things like telling the truth, making the right choice, or our own integrity, for the sake of niceness. And more importantly, as Red Riding Hood points out, "Nice is different than good." Being a nice person does not necessarily make you a good person.

In spite of some of the dark themes which Sondheim explores in his musical, I believe he demonstrates that there is hope for our society through the fate of Jack. The remaining characters ultimately refuse to give up Jack to the giant. While goodness and morality are more than just saving a life, this is one of the most crucial moments in the musical as the characters come to terms with the negative consequences of the choices they made during the course of the story. They have made mistakes in the past, but in the climactic moment they have the courage to make the right choice and work together to save themselves and their fellow villagers. They realize that they have made mistakes; they have not always made the right choices; getting what you wish is not always everything that you hoped for.

Although Into the Woods is certainly not a morality play, it rings true in its portrayal of fundamental elements of fallen human nature and I think this is one of the reasons it has become such a favorite with audiences. It shows us that we all have both light and darkness inside of us. In the words of Sirius Black, "What matters is the part we choose to act on. That's who we really are." Yes, we sin. Yes, we make mistakes. But in the words of Thomas Wayne/Alfred, "Why do we fall, Bruce? So we can learn to pick ourselves up." 

So if there is a moral to Into the Woods, I suppose it would be this: learn from your mistakes, be careful what you wish for, and be grateful for what you have. 

Saint Thomas Becket, Murder in the Cathedral

Saint Thomas Becket, (21 Dec. c. 1118 (or 1120) -- 29 Dec. 1170.

Today is the feast day of Saint Thomas Becket, Archbishop of Canterbury, and martyr for the Catholic faith. In some ways, his story is remarkably similar to that of Saint Thomas More, whom he preceded by several centuries. Both men maintained a loyal friendship to the English monarch and fiercely devoted to the Catholic faith, which eventually led to irreconcilable differences ultimately costing them their lives. Before his appointment as Archbishop, Thomas led a life of lavish abundance. However, upon appointment, he forsook his materialistic lifestyle and gave up all claims to earthly wealth, a remarkable choice when one considers that this choice was not required of his position at the time.

"This stark, 'cold turkey' separation, this radical embrace of a life of spiritual and physical simplicity, was undoubtedly challenging, overwhelming, and initially undesirable. ... But he denied, with prayer and fasting, this area of temptation in order to focus solely on the Source of the strength and grace that he knew would be necessary to remain faithful in such a perilous and controversial role. This Source was summoned and accepted upon the martyrdom of St. Thomas, when his executioners sought him out in the cloistered abbey where he lived in 1170. Taking his life in the abbey’s Cathedral, between the altars of Our Lady and St. Benedict, St. Thomas exclaimed to his executioners, 'For the name of Jesus and in defense of the Church I am willing to die.'"

St. Thomas' martyrdom has been the subject of numerous literary and film adaptions. One of the most famous is T.S. Eliot's verse drama titled Murder in the Cathedral. First performed in 1935, it was deeply influenced by the eyewitness account of the murder by Edward Grim, a clerk at Cambridge who authored a biography of St. Thomas published in 1180. Grim was visiting Canterbury Cathedral when Becket was attacked and attempted to protect the archbishop, but was seriously wounded in the attempt.

Snow White and Rose Red by ejbeachy from Deviantart

I first came across Eliot's retelling via another retelling: the young adult novel The Shadow of the Bear by Regina Doman, a modern adaption of the Grimm fairytale Snow White and Rose Red. In the first chapter, two sisters meet a homeless stranger, a young man who calls himself Bear. The three young people find that they share a love for poetry, especially T.S. Eliot. It so happens that Bear's favorite poem is Eliot's Murder in the Cathedral, foreshadowing the events which are to unfold as the sisters become entangled in their new friend's dark past, involving murder, betrayal, and a secret treasure trove. Passages of the drama are quoted throughout the novel, and thus I discovered the beauty and wisdom of Eliot!

Similar to the ancient Greek tragedies such as Sophocles' Oedipus Rex, a chorus comments on the events as the story progresses, serving as a link between the characters and the audience. I conclude with one of the final passages, a particularly compelling prayer  in which the chorus becomes the audience, the common man. Likewise, may the prayer of the chorus become our prayer, especially on this St. Thomas' feast day.

"Forgive us, O Lord, we acknowledge ourselves as type of the common man,
Of the men and women who shut the door and sit by the fire;
Who fear the blessing of God, the loneliness of the night of God, the surrender required, the deprivation inflicted;
Who fear the injustice of men less than the justice of God…
…Lord, have mercy upon us.
Christ, have mercy upon us.
Lord, have mercy upon us. 

Blessed Thomas, pray for us."

Sources cited: 
http://www.wordonfire.org/resources/blog/st-thomas-beckets-path-to-winning-the-crown/1287/

A New Look & A New Name

I apologize that it has taken me so long to do this. This explanation is long over-due, but since I have become a doctoral student, time is precious and when I come home from school I frequently do not have much in the way of creative brain power to blog as often as I would like. That aside...
... As some of you may have noticed, I revamped various aspects of my blog over the past several months! You may also remember that this blog was originally created under the title "Smatterings of Reverie from Bag Shot Row." When I first created my blog, it was meant as a place where I could share art, quotes, music, and the like, a.k.a. "Smatterings of Reverie." However, as time has passed, this blog has evolved from a place to share art and beauty to a place to talk about art and beauty. And so I decided to give it a makeover! I wanted to keep the allusion to Tolkien and Middle Earth, which was my first love and obsession while I was in high school and remains to this day one of my favorite novels. I also wanted to create a more rustic, charming, yet cozy atmosphere evoking Bag End itself, and I feel as though I have succeeded for the most part!
Since this blog has evolved more into a discussion and occasionally dialogue revolving around art, beauty, and culture, "quibble"  (definition: a slight objection or criticism) seemed like an apt alteration to the title -- though its similarity to the title of the wizard tabloid "The Quibbler" from the world of Harry Potter is no coincidence! And finally, the tea reference not only encompasses a variety of my favorite things -- from hobbits to Lewis to British culture -- but also serves as a delightful companion to any good discussion!

Modern Sacred Music in the 20th Century, Part II: Messiaen & Britten

To read Part I, click here.

Olivier Messiaen (1908-1992)

Olivier Messiaen (1908-1992) may aptly be described as one of the most idiosyncratic composers of the twentieth century. Rather than adhering to a particular school or style, he preferred to create his own unique musical voice through the combination of influences including birdsong, eastern rhythms, his own modes of limited transposition, and his religious beliefs. Although he did not come from a religious family, Messiaen was a devoted Roman Catholic whose faith and interest in mysticism deeply impacted his compositional output. Like Duruflé, he also served as a church musician for almost his entire career and believed that Gregorian chant was the true native music of the Roman Catholic liturgy. Perhaps this explains why his motet O Sacrum Convivium serves as his only work (outside of specific solo organ compositions) designated for liturgical use. Composed in 1937 for SATB a cappella choir, his motet appears relatively early in his ouvre, which perhaps partially explains its reserved musical language. The text, in keeping with Messiaen’s preference for mystical subjects, consists of a meditation on the mystery of the Eucharist written by St. Thomas Aquinas. The motet’s restrained dissonances and muted colors resemble those of late 19th and early 20th century composers such as Fauré and Poulenc, though they sound remarkably conservative when compared to the majority of Messiaen’s work. The rhythmic values, combined into groups of two or three eighth notes, bear the marks of the Solesmes monks interpretation of Gregorian chant (a trait also found in the chant-based works of Duruflé). The texture is primarily homophonic, drawing attention to the lilting, almost ethereal melody in the soprano line. Rather than reciting the text verbatim, Messiaen rearranges the text to create a dramatic arch within the piece. The choir sings through the first three phrases of the text at a pianissimo, crescendoing slightly at “the mind is filled with grace,” then diminishing as it reverently repeats the words “O sacrum.”  There is a slight pause, then he reiterates the opening material, steadily building to a majestic forte as the melody soars up to an A on “futurae gloriae.” As the chorus sings “Alleluia,” the soprano line languidly descends, the texture softening into a pianissimo. The motet concludes with a sonorous major chord in the lower parts, the melody rocking gently to and fro on a subtle dissonance as gentle as a lullaby.

___

Benjamin Britten (1913-1976)

Benjamin Britten (1913-1976) in some ways appears as a bit of an anomaly among the composers included in this discussion. Messiaen and Duruflé were fervent Catholics. Pärt is a member of the Russian Orthodox faith. By contrast, Britten preferred to distance himself from organized religion for the majority of his life. Nevertheless, he wrote a number of choral works for use in worship, Protestant as well as Catholic. These works have earned a permanent place in the choral repertoire due to Britten's ability to combine inventive and modern styles with accessibility to both the tastes of average congregations and the abilities of amateur -- albeit trained -- church choirs. Although perhaps it was not as influential as in the cases of the aforementioned composers, Britten was certainly well acquainted with plainsong and made considerable use of it as seen in works such as the Ceremony of Carols, the Hymn to Saint Peter, the church parable Curlew River, and the cantata Saint Nicolas. 

Britten composed his Hymn to the Virgin when he was sixteen while laid up in the school sanatorium, taking the text from his copy of The Oxford Book of English Verse, 1200-1900, a book he had won as a prize. The text dates from the 14th century and serves as a devotional rather than liturgical prayer, combining Latin and Middle English texts to create a prayer in which the church militant meditate upon the Blessed Mother and ask her intercession. Composed for double choir, the four-part homophonic texture lends the work a beautiful clarity akin to that of hymnody, while the melismas on the Latin words imitate harmonized plainsong. The harmonic language appears to draw from the early English music revival, a revival which originated in the late 19th century and characterized by a renewed interest in the music of William Byrd and other English polyphonic composers. It also included the tradition of English folk song. Composers not only studied this music but also sought to imitate it in new compositions. Britten would later reject this trend, but the modal harmonies of the Hymn do just the opposite, complimenting the medieval text. Though the harmony and texture are simple, Britten imbues the piece with drama by having the two choruses present the text antiphonally: one choir sings in English while the other comments on or completes the thought in Latin. The choirs sing separately in the first two verses, the drama building in the second verse. Then both forces join together in verse three, the soprano of Choir I and all of Choir II singing the melody while the lower voices of Choir I ascend in largely stepwise motion, climaxing on the phrase,“Lady, queen of paradise.” The hymn concludes in mystical tranquility, ending with the familiar lilting melisma from the previous verses.

Conclusion

 Throughout the 20th century, the Catholic Church encouraged the composition of modern forms of sacred music. On November 22, 2003, the anniversary of the promulgation of St. Pius X’s motu proprio Tra Le Sollecitudini, St. John Paul II wrote, “This does not mean copying Gregorian chant, but rather seeing to it that new compositions be pervaded by the same spirit that gave rise to and so molded that chant. Only an artist profoundly immersed in the sensus Ecclesiae may try to perceive and translate into melody the truth of the Mystery that is celebrated in the Liturgy.”

How could the traditional language of sacred music be reconciled with the new musical languages of Debussy and Ravel, the serialist techniques of Schoenberg, and other modern trends? The 20th century produced a significant number of composers of religious and sacred music capable of meeting this challenge. These four composers were able to integrate elements of the past with elements of the present to create a musical language of their own. French composers Duruflé and Messiaen combined the colorful harmonies of the French school with various elements of Gregorian chant, ranging from direct quotation and variation to rhythmic inspiration hearkening to the Solesmes interpretation. Duruflé also incorporated 19th century elements as seen in the romantic melodies in the middle section of the Gloria and in the Benedictus. Arvo Pärt engineered his tintinnabuli style from the foundations of tonality (such as the triad), elements of plainsong and Renaissance polyphony, and certain aspects of 20th century serialism. In his Hymn to the Virgin, Britten likewise incorporates traditional elements of English modality and hymnody into a new mystical and dynamic language. All of these composers manage to use elements of the old to create something new in keeping with the spirit of the liturgy without sounding antiquarian.

The music of Messiaen, Britten, Duruflé, and Pärt prove that it is possible to compose new sacred music in keeping with the spirit of the liturgy. The integration of the old traditions of sacred music with the dynamic creativity of these four composers did not result in the archaic survival of a dead culture but rather served as the instigator for new innovations in sacred music. Their compositions breath the spirit of ancient religious chant, but the overall idiom is decidedly modern. They prove that the model of plainsong, far from limiting the composer, instructs him in the qualities of true art in keeping with the sacramental nature of liturgical music. It is in this way that cultural innovation gives birth to new forms of expression, new forms which serve as worthy successors of the timeless masterpieces of the past.