Occasionally, you read something that stays with you, that continues to influence your thinking, that crystallizes an issue or fact.  The so-called “seminal essay.”

For me, “Gothic Pillars and Blue Notes: Art as a Reflection of the Conflict of Religions” by Quentin Faulkner has been one of these.  Originally published in The American Organist in 1998, this three-part essay is available at the digital archive of the University of Nebraska – Lincoln.  Go find it and read it.

One quote: “Whatever a society’s actual religion is – whatever mixture of adherence to revealed and codified religious doctrine and practice, or to human personalities and ideologies, or to superstition, or to human selfishness – that religion will be faithfully embodied in its culture and its art.  To the degree and at the rate the religion changes, so will its accompanying culture and art.”

In 2000, I was lucky enough to hear Faulkner on this topic at a conference at St. Johns University.  I’ll never forget the two opening slides. The first was a sloppy liturgy in an ugly modern church.  The second showed the highly-choreographed opening of a major college football game.  There was no mistaking what really mattered in contemporary American culture.  Obviously, this was an attention-getting ploy.  Well, you’ll just have to take my word that it only got better from there.

At the time, I was just considering “re-involving” myself in sacred music.  Now, it seems that hardly a day goes by without some aspect of Faulkner’s essay coming to mind.  Check it out!

Last Sunday found me at the Cathedral of St. John the Baptist in Charleston, South Carolina for the 11:15 am Mass.  Admittedly, I know Scott Turkington, the choirmaster and principal organist – and yes, I already knew he’s fantastic.  However, I hadn’t been there for a “principal Mass” for some time and wondered how things were going.

Well, let’s just say that the choir and the organ “rocked”!  The music covered several centuries and did it gracefully.   I’m giving you the “playlist” because it represents such a felicitous marriage of styles.  Everything hung together and that’s an exercise of liturgical judgment that demonstrates the wonderful dimension that music brings to the Mass.

There were Gregorian propers for the Introit, Offertory, and Communion.  The motet at the Offertory was “How Lovely is Thy Dwelling Place” from Brahms’ German Requiem.

The processional hymn was “Alleluia, Song of Sweetness” to Lauda Anima.  The recessional hymn was “All Creatures of our God and King” to Vigiles et Sancti.

The Ordinary of the Mass was the Missa de angelis, with the exception of the Agnus Dei from the Mass of Blessed John Henry Newman by James MacMillan.  The Responsorial Psalm was a setting by Richard Rice and the Alleluia by Theodore Marier.  The level of congregational participation was above average from where I sat. Marier was also the composer for an English setting of Ubi caritas at Communion.  That was followed by a lively motet by Palestrina, Exsultate Deo.

Since I’m not an organist (and it wasn’t in the worship pamphlet), I can’t tell you the prelude and postlude.  The only “disconnect” was the celebrant who didn’t sing, chant, or intone a single syllable – and yes, he could have completed the “liturgical loop,” so to speak – but I was still thrilled to hear a great schola and choir, ripping hymn accompaniments, and super motets. 

 If I were an unbeliever who had wandered in the door, I’d want to know more about a religion with this much beauty. Now that’s Cathedral Music!