Gaude, mater Anna

Rejoice, O mother Anne, rejoice!
O holy mother, lift your voice!
The daughter you have brought to birth
Is mother of our God on earth.

Ring out your joy, exult and pray:
The Virgin Queen is born today!
And celebrate with Joachim
This child who springs from you and him.

Behold, the blessings of her birth
Shall overturn the curse of earth.
What our first mother lost by sin
This newborn mother's Son will win.

St. Anna, hear our joyful cries,
And raise our banners to the skies,
Where you delight to see His face
Who cleanses us from sin by grace.

Ave Maris Stella

Ave, maris stella
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Stabat Mater, in the News

Dominican nuns sang the Stabat Mater as a Sequnce in the late 13th century, much earlier than has been thought, according to this article.

h/t: the NLM

Sursum Corda: The Youth Classical Schola

Last Saturday before the historic Pontifical Mass at the National Shrine, I had the honor of directing the children's schola which chanted during Bishop Slattery's vesting. The schola combined my own Alexandria, VA, St. Louis Church's Youth Classical Schola and the Chorus from St. Ann's Academy in DC. In the weeks leading up to the Mass, I spent a good deal of time on the road, rehearsing with St. Ann's, to produce a unified sound.

The children sang Veni, Creator Spiritus, Adoro Te devote, and Regina caeli. I think they sang their best--which, many say, is beautifully--and under challenging circumstances.

The event was marked with controversy and strife. The originally planned celebrant did not say the Mass, for reasons that have been widely publicized. From my perspective, the Mass had certain less-than-optimal earmarks of any inaugural event. There were little glitches here and there, and some problems communicating. My guess is the communication issues had most of all to do with everyone's relative uncertainty. It is difficult to do something complex and new, because there is no established routine. Meanwhile, everyone's goodwill and effort was evident, and the pleasure of collaboration can make little glitches seem unimportant. The second time will be much easier, and, God willing, under much less public pressure and scrutiny.

From the time when the discussions of my schola's involvement first began, the organizer who was my principle contact spoke of his strong sense that children's voices would be essential at this Mass. While I agreed, I had no idea at the time that his sense would turn out to be quite so prophetic and urgent. Given the publicity, and given the scale of the atrocity of crimes that have been committed against children, the sweet sound of children's singing, which always lifts my heart, can be a balm for all of us. Their pact with the Church, after all, is unbroken. They are safe, they serve, they learn. Our experience in working together has been not only positive but joyous, a microcosm of the excellent ecclesiology of Catholicism as it is played out in so many ways around the world.

I hope that joy was evident in their sound.

Hail, Holy Queen

The first trick to appreciating this wonderful hymn is forgetting entirely about the movie Sister Act.

Second, notice the compositional maneuver of setting a low-pitched, limited-range verse followed by a soaring refrain. In some cases I have spoken of this pattern as emotionally manipulative, for example, in On Eagles' Wings. Here, though, the intention is far different. The soaring is not ours! It is Mary's, and the angels sing her praises. We soar to join them.

And that leads me to a final comment (leaving aside such sublime theology and singably enjoyable poetry as "the spring through which all graces flow"): this is one of those hymns which makes the common praise of heaven and earth explicit. Since the prayer of Solomon in the temple, since the dream of Jacob and the passing of Enoch, we've known that the firmament of heaven can be permeated by praise. But rarely enough--outside of the Christmas season--sing explicitly of the very true mystery of the cosmic liturgy.

Angels, all your praises bring.
Earth and heaven with us sing.
All creation echoing: Salve, salve, salve Regina!

Our Lady of Lourdes

It didn't necessarily start out as a good day. One of our priests, who is very devoted to Our Lady of Lourdes, asked me to provide music at the morning Mass, and I had every intention of doing so--but the Capital Beltway had every intention of keeping me away. So did Route 1. Thankfully, our Organist put the numbers on the hymn boards and got everything ready and underway when I arrived just in time to sing the Gospel Acclamation.

After this inauspicious beginning, however, the day just got better and better. The Mass itself was wonderful (the part I was there for, that is). The homily included personal reflections and even more importantly a thorough discussion of St. Bernadette's apparitions and her trials. We sang the Agnus Dei a cappella, and the peoples' voices were so very encouraging. We sang one of my favorite hymns at Communion, Virgin-Born, We Bow Before You (by Reginald Heber, who also gave us Holy, Holy, Holy), and then, in thanksgiving, I chanted the Magnificat. Lastly we sang the very fun Hail, Holy Queen, which is one of those great hymns that comes right out and says that human beings and angels sing together.

Twice later in the day I had a chance to sing Marian hymns, at an evening Mass at one of the shrines designated as a pilgrimage site for the special feast day, and at lunch time. The lunch story is too long to relate here, but let me just say that singing the Salve Regina with such a dedicated group of people, after feast-day pizza and wings, was a highlight of my professional life thus far.

Here's Virgin-Born, We Bow Before You, a text by the Anglican Bishop Heber sung to a tune borrowed from the Genevan Psalter. How very ecumenical, in peace, for Our Lady of Lourdes.

Virgin-born, we bow before you:

blesséd was the womb that bore you;

Mary, Mother meek and mild,

blesséd was she in her Child.

Blesséd was the breast that fed you;

blesséd was the hand that led you;

blesséd was the parent's eye

that watched thy slumbering infancy.

Blesséd she by all creation,

who brought forth the world's salvation, and

blesséd they, for ever blessed, who

love you most and serve you best.

Virgin-born, we bow before you;

blesséd was the womb that bore you;

Mary, Mother meek and mild,

blessed was she in her Child.

Words: Reginald Heber (18thC)

Music: Psalm 86, Claude Goudimel (16thC): (Click Karaoke)

August 20: Feast of St. Bernard of Clairvaux

Before night falls on the Feast of St. Bernard, let us pay tribute to this Doctor of the Church who, in addition to founding 63 monasteries, wrote poems and sermons overflowing with love.

Some of our most tender lyrics are attributed to him, including the hymns that have been translated as O Jesus, Joy of Loving Hearts, which is also known as Jesus, Lover of My Soul, and O Sacred Head, Surrounded.

In his Paradiso, Dante gives St. Bernard the privilege of leading the traveller to Mary. He says:

"Look now upon the face most like to Christ
Because its brightness all alone possesses
The power to prepare you to see Christ."

I saw rain down upon her face such joy —
Joy carried by those pure intelligences
Created to soar through that altitude —

That whatever wonders I had seen before
Had not held me suspended in such awe
Nor showed me such an image like to God.

And that same Love who first flew down to her,
Singing there, "Hail Mary, full of grace,"
Now spread his wings out wide in front of her.

From every side the blessed court responded
So warmly to the canticle of heaven
That with the song each face grew more serene.

The Visitation

Yesterday's Feast was the commemoration of a hymn--one of the finest, one of the best. When Mary went to visit Elizabeth, John the Baptist, still inside his mother, recognized his Lord, still inside His. Elizabeth, filled with the Holy Spirit, recognized the Lord, His mother, and the great favor of the Lord that she would be greeted by this most highly favored lady. And Mary sang:

My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord;
my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,
for he has looked with favor on his lowly servant.
From this day all generations will call me blessed:
the Almighty has done great things for me,
and holy is his Name.

He has mercy on those who fear him
in every generation.
He has shown the strength of his arm,
he has scattered the proud in their conceit.
He has cast down the mighty from their thrones,
and has lifted up the lowly.
He has filled the hungry with good things,
and the rich he has sent away empty.

He has come to the help of his servant Israel
for he has remembered his promise of mercy,
the promise he made to our fathers,
to Abraham and his children for ever.

Regina Coeli

The first time I really noticed the Regina Coeli was not in its chant version, but in a rollicking rendition that may be peculiar to Redemptorists. Back in college, during my "junior year abroad" in Annapolis, I was the Saturday evening cantor at St. Mary's Church. Soon I was the cantor for the choir Mass as well, and as things went, I was asked to cant for the Triduum. Alas, I didn't sing the Exsultet as the choir director loved to do that possibly as much as I--and he was the choir director. But on the Easter Vigil there were a number of Psalms of course, and plenty else for me to do.

St. Mary's is an active parish with elementary and high schools, and also functions as a retirement home for the Redemptorist province. I met some wonderful priests there, some of them elderly. When religious priests are older, they are apparently asked to do less and less. Most of the priests had no official role in the Mass except as concelebrants. I was the only layperson on the altar, just me and all those priests. I kept thinking about the Psalm, "You have set them in the company of princes. Yes, with the princes of your own people." It struck me as very ironic that I as a laywoman, with no institution of any kind, had so many interesting roles to play while these good priests were pretty much silent. (I guess this betrays an error on my part concerning the dignity of a concelebrant.)

They were silent, that is, until after the Communion song. "The young ones" were still distributing Communion. I sat down, and the organ started up this highly raucous Regina Coeli. It really must be a Redemptorist setting--I haven't heard it before or since. The older fathers in their chairs came in loud on the first note and didn't let up till the end. It was the most joyous singing I have ever heard.

***

For most of the year, the Church has a tradition of saying the Angelus prayer, recalling the Anunciation of the Lord, at 6 am, noon, and 6 pm. But during Easter, we sing the Regina Coeli.
The prayer is addressed to Mary as she is now and forever, the Queen of Heaven. (You could call her Queen of Martyrs or Queen of Apostles, both of which she is, but why not just cut to the chase?) It is in the imperative mood, which is very beautiful: we are telling Mary to rejoice. Not really, though. She will rejoice whether we tell her to or not, but when we ask her to, that gives us a way to enter into her rejoicing personally. It's a little like an Afro-American congregation telling the preacher, "Preach!" It's not like he's going to stop preaching if you don't say it, but you feel better that you did.

Queen of heaven, rejoice, Alleluia

For He whom you merited to bear, Alleluia

Has risen as He said, Alleluia

Pray for us to God, Alleluia.

In the parish where I work as a cantor these days, I try to slip a little Latin hymn in after the Communion song whenever possible. In Ordinary Time I often slip in the Salve Regina. So far I've sung Regina Coeli at each Easter Mass. Sometimes when I'm singing I focus my efforts on the good of the congregation to the glory of God. Most times, that's what I do. I do hope that a lot of folks in the congregation, especially this congregation which is very prayerful, will be happy to hear a brief Latin hymn chanted to the Mother of God. But the Regina Coeli--I sing that for priests.