Recently, our bishop requested the addition of more chanting to the celebration of Mass (see here and here and here and here and here and here and here [no. 47d]), and this is the time I served as a cantor for our parish. I have found that this simple act of chanting has become a position of extreme vulnerability: the language of the Mass has been and continues to be fraught with centuries of heartfelt opinion, denominational conflict, translation discrepancies, vernacular defenders, Latinate enthusiasts, and the indifferent too. As the mouthpiece in our small church of these Latin chants, I'm not always the most popular cantor. I definitely feel the weight of people's frustration with the Latin: at any minute throughout the Mass, I envision the parishioners breaking out into protest: "Bring back Marty Haugen! What did you do with David Haas!?" Despite the lukewarm response from some, the disgruntled rejections from others, and the heartfelt encouragement from many too, the chanting has continued throughout Lent. I am learning so much about the rich musical tradition of our Church by singing the Latin chants and hymns, and I hope others also discover the solemnity and beauty of the vocal chants that our bishop seeks to reintroduce, however meagerly, throughout our diocese.
And as for all of those nights laboring over Wheelock's Latin during my years in grad school: I am discovering more and more that God has a plan for each of our endeavors however distant, however far-removed, however unclear the master narrative. Today, it is a blessing to offer up these simple chants to God in prayer and in humility. As St. Augustine proclaimed, "Qui bene cantata bis orat." Amen! Alleluia!
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