Philadelphia Chapter

Louis Tofari is an author, commentator, and consultant on liturgical matters. He has written for several publications and is a featured columnist in the Remnant newspaper. In 2008, he started a liturgical media apostolate, Romanitas Press (www.romanitaspress.com), through which he published his book, The General Principles of the Roman Rite, as well as reprinting several previously unavailable important works for the promotion and restoration of the sacred liturgy. He lives in Kansas City, Missouri happily married with two children and a third on the way.

by Louis Tofari

Discourses on Solemn Mass: Part II

Throughout the ages, it has been natural that man will don special vesture to denote that he is exercising a public function (or office) that transcends his own person. As witnessed via the Old Testament, Almighty God Himself prescribed a type of dress that the priests, Levites and High Priest were to wear while ministering in the Temple at Jerusalem.

Unlike with the Old Covenant, apparently the Holy Apostles were not minutely instructed as to what type or form of vesture they should wear while celebrating the Divine Mysteries. Thus to our knowledge, it seems they most likely wore the usual clothes of civilians, though perhaps of better quality to signify the importance of the fractio panis.

But over time, while fashions changed, the ancient forms of civilian dress were retained by the Church which she slowly developed into the types and forms that we still see worn today during the sacred liturgy. What is also interesting is that while the vestment forms slightly differ, the types are nearly identical in the West and the East (e.g., all have a type of stole), thus giving another attestation to the Church’s universality.

In describing the various vestments, we will only briefly touch on their history, while giving the typical symbolism ascribed to each – though it should be noted that the significations attributed to each piece came much later and so were not the cause of their origin.

We will start with the vestments worn by the sacred ministers (celebrant, deacon and subdeacon) and in vesting order. It begins with those made of linen, a costly fabric that in ancient times was associated with the rich – it was also prescribed by God to be utilized in various ways in the Temple rites and was the textile for Our Lord’s burial cloth, the famous Shroud of Turin.

First there is the linen amice, a rectangular piece with two long ribbons attached, which is kissed and placed over the head momentarily, then the long side with the ribbons is tucked around the neck thus hiding the upper portion of the clerical “street clothes” (the cassock and clerical collar). This allows the amice to act as a type of neckerchief (from whence it most likely originated), thus protecting the vestments. The two ribbons are then crossed in front of the torso, drawn behind and back around to the front – much like a trussed-up lamb – and tied. In monastic orders, the back portion of the amice is arranged and worn as a hood in procession, thus perhaps owing to its symbolic reference as the “helmet of salvation” – however, the secular clergy use the biretta as their head covering instead.

Next is the alb, a long white linen tunic that closes around the neck (thus covering the flattened back of the amice), whose hem should barely touch the cleric’s shoes – again, covering his “street dress”. The alb signifies how the ministers should be clothed in innocence or purity. Today, it is common to see the hem and sleeves adorned with lace, though this practice is of a rather later date. In medieval times (before lace was invented), the festive alb was adorned with a square of colored fabric near the hem and embroidered standing collar – sometimes the cuffs were likewise decorated. While the use of lace is allowed, it should be graduated in length according to the degree of the solemnity, though being a symbol of joy, it should be omitted for Masses of a penitential or mourning character.

In concluding this discourse, it is appropriate to mention here that the surplice worn by the acolytes is a shortened version of the tunic worn by the sacred ministers. This practice continues with certain religious orders (such as the Benedictines and Dominicans), where the acolytes continue to wear the alb and with a cincture. In the secular Roman Rite though, the plain linen surplice is the common outer vestment of the altar server, its pure whiteness signifying the putting on the New Man (Who is Christ).

To be continued, the vesture of the ministers of Solemn Mass….

by Louis Tofari

Discourses on Solemn Mass: Part I

The perfection of the rite of Solemn Mass stems from its variety of ministers, or more precisely, the proper division of liturgical offices. These divisions are not only of ancient origin, but are nearly identical in the liturgies of both the West and East. The ministers are divided into two hierarchical categories: sacred and inferior, which also correspond to the division of the Sacrament of Holy Orders: major orders[1] and minor orders.[2]

First of the sacred ministers is the celebrant (or sacerdote in Latin), alter Christus, the Eternal High Priest standing at the altar before Almighty God as the sacrificer and mediator during the unbloody re-enactment of Calvary – thus naturally, only a priest can exercise this office.

The deacon (from the Greek diakonos, meaning “servant”) is the immediate assistant to the celebrant and thus is sometimes symbolically identified with the Blessed Virgin Mary. His office consists of chanting the Gospel and assisting the celebrant at the altar rather like a “liturgical valet”. Because the deacon’s role puts him in contact with the sacred vessels and chalice linens, he must be a cleric ordained at least to the diaconate.

The subdeacon (simply from under the deacon) is the assistant to the deacon, and hence often typified as St. Joseph. He chants the Epistle and assists at the altar rather like a “glorified acolyte” – in fact, some of the subdeacon’s roles were exercised by acolytes in the ancient Church. We can still witness an allusion to the earlier practice with the use of a “substitute” (or “straw”) subdeacon – when a cleric in major orders is not available to act as a subdeacon at Solemn Mass, one that has at least been tonsured can fill in, but with some restrictions.

As for the inferior ministers, these are all part of the highest minor order of acolyte (Greek for “server”). Thus despite the different names commonly attributed to the various altar servers (master of ceremonies, thurifer and torchbearers[1]), all are in fact acolytes.

At Solemn Mass, the acolytes are the immediate assistants to the deacon and subdeacon, and they perform a variety of ancillary roles to render practical assistance for the ceremonies (e.g., to carry the thurible for burning the incense) and provide greater solemnity (e.g., the bearing of extra lights called “torches”). The acolyte’s office is often called the “angelic ministry”, and since time immemorial the Church has granted the immense religious privilege to laymen (adults and adolescents) to exercise these offices.

There is also the liturgical schola of men and boys (vested in cassock and surplice) who chant the Mass propers and alternate the Kyriale with the faithful. While they are not considered inferior ministers per se (as they do not contribute by action), nonetheless the schola is on par with the acolytes.

Finally in concluding this segment, it is worthwhile to note that the office of another minor order, porter, is typically seen (or not) being exercised by laymen at Solemn Mass through the duties of the sacristan, bell-ringer and ushers.

In our next installment, we will discourse about the vesture worn by the various ministers at Solemn Mass.

by Louis Tofari

Discourses on Solemn Mass: Introduction

Explanations about the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass according to the Roman Rite abound. But these tend to focus on Low Mass, thus neglecting the profound and beautiful rituals found only in the more complete form of the Latin Church: Solemn Mass. Those works that do examine ceremonial aspects of Solemn Mass, usually do not discuss the reasons behind the actions, let alone delve into the rubrics that regulate them, thus illuminating further the profundity of its ritualistic praxis.

Such an expose on Solemn Mass becomes even more pertinent when we realize that most Roman Catholics do not have the opportunity to witness its ceremonies – or perhaps not frequently enough to impress them upon the memory –or are unable to clearly view some of its ritualistic actions. Thus these “Discourses on Solemn Mass” will endeavor to methodically, but briefly examine the rite of Solemn Mass, not only in a general sense, but also a more particular one.

For starters, we must understand that Low Mass (missa recitata) is merely an abbreviated version of Solemn Mass (missa solemnis). Once upon time, all Masses were sung Solemn Masses until the development of Low Mass. Even then, many religious orders and institutions (even some parishes) continued to daily offer the Solemn form for public or conventual Mass. This idyllic situation though was tragically ended by the effects of the Protestant Reformation and its subsequent convulsive revolutions against the Church.

Secondly, we must recognize that Solemn Mass form is the liturgical ideal of the Latin Rite (not Low Mass). At Solemn Mass, we witness the Roman balance of contemplative chant and meditative silence, the proper division of the liturgical offices, and the edifying participation of the faithful, who united as a body devoutly “pray twice” through the singing of the Kyriale and hymns, while conforming their bodies (e.g., bowing, sitting, standing or kneeling) according to the circumstances. As some have probably ascertained, many of these same aspects also exist in the context of High Mass (missa cantata), which is a more-recent hybrid of Solemn Mass.

The next discourse will examine a main defining point of Solemn Mass: its ministers.

via The Guardian

Atheists should be seen as good people if they do good, Pope Francis has said in his latest urging that people of all religions, and none, work together.

The leader of the world’s 1.2 billion Roman Catholics made his comments in the homily of his morning mass at his residence, a daily event at which he speaks without prepared comments.

He told the story of a Catholic who asked a priest if even atheists had been redeemed by Jesus.

“Even them, everyone,” the pope answered, according to Vatican Radio. “We all have the duty to do good,” he said.

“Just do good, and we’ll find a meeting point,” the pope said in a hypothetical reply to the hypothetical comment: “But I don’t believe. I’m an atheist.”

From Lucy Carroll

Mass in the extraordinary form will be celebrated on Sunday July 14, 2013 at 7:30 PM as part of the novena for Our Lady of Mount Carmel, at the Carmelite Monastery 66th Avenue and Old York Road. Celebrant will be Rev. Ronald Check. Rosary at 6:45, sung Litany (Latin) at 7 PM, and Mass at 7:30 PM. All invited.

The Monastery Choir is also looking for new members. The Monastery has one (1) TLM per year, although it sings many hymns and chants in Latin. If interested please contact the director at monasterymouse@verizon.net.

First Friday, May 3, A.D. 2013, Traditional Latin Mass (TLM) will be offered by Fr. Gerald Carey, Pastor of St. Paul Roman Catholic Church, at the Rectory Chapel of St. Albert The Great Parish, 212 Welsh Road, Huntingdon Valley, Montgomery County, PA 19006, (T) 215-947-3500 at 7 p.m., preceded by Confessions at 6:30 p.m. The Rectory, also known as the Parish Center, is behind the Church. Fr. Carey will be offering a Votive Mass in Reparation to The Sacred Heart of Jesus.

First Saturday TLM will similarly be offered by Fr. Dominick Finn, O.S.F.S. at 9:15 a.m., preceded by Confessions at 8:45 a.m.

Fr. Finn will be offering the Mass of Saint Monica, in Reparation to The Immaculate Heart of Mary.

Thank you for publicizing these First Friday and First Saturday TLM’s.

Mark Matthews

From CatholicPhilly.com

Archbishop Charles J. Chaput joined a distinguished group on April 12. It includes four cardinals, a bishop, two governors of Pennsylvania, a United States senator, a Pennsylvania chief justice, three university presidents and scores of Catholic lay leaders.

All were recipients of the Sourin Award, given annually since 1960 by Philadelphia’s Catholic Philopatrian Literary Institute — popularly known as the Philo — and Archbishop Chaput was this year’s honoree.

He accepted the 2013 award from Philo President Thomas B. Byrnes at a dinner before 200 guests held at the Hilton Philadelphia City Avenue.

In his acceptance speech it became clear that if you ask Archbishop Chaput a question he is not apt to sugar-coat the answer. Although he is happy to be Philadelphia’s Archbishop, he said his answer as to how he has enjoyed the past 19 months is, “I haven’t liked it at all.”

Quite honestly, “It has been an awful time,” he said. “We’ve had huge problems with the clergy which has been a great sadness to the Church, a great sadness for the priests and a great sadness for all of you here. I have had to make decisions about the future of their lives that have been extraordinarily difficult not only for them but for their families; their moms, their brothers and sisters.”

Coupled with this, he said, “I have had to close about 50 schools and will be closing parishes in the next couple of years in a way that will be disappointing to a lot of people. We have financial problems that are unimaginable.”

The Philadelphia archdiocese does have a distinguished history and Archbishop Chaput listed some of its past accomplishments, for example the home of two saints, an honor shared in America only by Hawaii. It had the largest Catholic school system in the country. It is home to a large number of Catholic colleges and universities. It still had more parishes (until recently) than Los Angeles, which is more than three times as large in Catholic population.

“This is an extraordinary place,” Archbishop Chaput said. “But things have changed immensely.”

He pointed to the practice of faith, with Mass attendance hovering around 20 percent when it once was about 75 or 80 percent. The church and schools were built on the assumption that the high numbers would always be there.

“Things have changed,” he said. “The problems we have financially are not admitting we have to change. Not in terms of our values and enthusiasm but in terms of how we look at our structures. We can’t keep open parishes that are empty; we can’t keep schools that have only 80 kids in them, we just can’t.”

Change, he said, is going to be awkward and difficult, but “if we are going to be the Church that Jesus Christ wants us to be, we have to be different.”

The Archbishop reminded his audience that the early Church as established by Jesus had no buildings. The first Christians continued to worship at the Temple and synagogues until they were expelled and then the churches they built were very small. The Church, he said, “is not a building it is the people of God, all of us together.”

Dealing with all of these problems that have built up over the years is a distraction. “I spend all of my time trying to figure out how we are going to do the next thing,” he said. “I ask your patience.”

As an archdiocese, “we have a lot of work to do,” he said. “I hope that when I turn 75 and the Pope says it is time to retire and get out of here you will have a reason to give me an award. You don’t have any yet. But we will do it together because I know you love the Lord and love His Church. Let’s do it together.”

Judging from the applause, it was apparent that the Philos have full confidence that Archbishop Chaput, in these last 19 months, has already earned that award and will continue to do so.

The Philo itself was begun in 1850 by Father Edward Sourin, who was at the time pastor of St. John the Evangelist Church and vicar general of the Diocese of Philadelphia.

Its initial purpose was to provide some education to young mostly Irish immigrants, but eventually it evolved into Philadelphia’s elite Catholic lay organization. But it has never forgotten its roots in education, which today takes the form of a scholarship program.

For more information, visit the website of the Catholic Philopatrian Literary Institute.

Fr. Z writes:

Let’s see what happened to today’s Collect in the 1962MR when it was ported over into the 1970MR.

COLLECT (1962MR):
Deus, qui Filii tui humilitate iacentem mundum erexisti:
fidelibus tuis sanctam concede laetitiam;
ut, quos perpetuae mortis eripuisti casibus,
gaudiis facias perfrui sempiternis.

With a slight variation this prayer was in the Gelasian Sacramentary on the Sunday after the Octave of Easter, which is today’s Sunday: Deus, qui in filii tui humilitatem iacentem mundum erexisti, laetitiam concede , ut quos perpetuae eripuisti casibus, gaudiis facias sempiternis perfruere. So, not many changes. (The words in < > were illegible or missing in the manuscripts, and were supplied by Leo Cunibert Mohlberg, editor of the critical edition of the Gelasian.) The infinitive of perfruor, deponent, is really perfrui. However perfruere, here, is also an infinitive: once in a while, like today, active forms crept into use for deponents.

In the meantime, think laterally: isn’t the last phrase of the Collect similar to the end of the prayer recited after the Salve Regina? “Grant us your servants, we pray you O Lord God, to enjoy perpetual health of mind and body, and, by the glorious intercession of blessed Mary ever-Virgin, may we be delivered from present sorrow and enjoy everlasting happiness (aeterna perfrui laetitia).”

The themes here are similar to today’s Collect in that there is a shift from sorrow to joy through God’s providential gift. Moreover, when the priest vests for Holy Mass, traditionally he says special prayers while putting on each vestment. For the alb, the symbol of our baptism, he prays: “Make me white, O Lord, and cleanse my heart, so that having been made white in the Blood of the Lamb, I may enjoy everlasting joys (gaudiis perfruar sempiternis).” There is similar vocabulary in the other vesting prayers, which could once be found posted in every sacristy in the world. I use them daily and exhort other priests to do so as well.

My hook for these last comments was the verb perfruor, one of a few famous deponent verbs used normally and classically with the ablative case: utor, abutor, fruor, fungor, potior and vescor. In different periods of Latin these verbs could have active forms, as we saw above, and could also take objects in the accusative or even genitive. In modern liturgical usage they are deponents and always get ablative “objects”. Actually, these aren’t really objects, but rather a kind of instrument: e.g., vescor, “I feed myself from…”; fruor, “I get fruit/benefit from…”; etc. A good grammar explains how these verbs work. Latin Students: If you want a really good Latin grammar get the superb Gildersleeve & Lodge, or fully, Gildersleeve’s Latin Grammar (enlarged with the additional help of Gonzalez Lodge). Basil L. Gildersleeve said, and this is true in the world of WDTPRS, “No study of literature can yield its highest result without the close study of language, and consequently the close study of grammar.”

Two words in the prayer, gaudium and laetitia, can be rendered into English with the same word “joy” and variations. We don’t want to give undue emphasis to the different sorts of “joy” possible with different words. However, our chockful L&S states that gaudium suggest a joy which is interior whereas laetitia suggests a unrestrained joy having outward expression, even though L&S also says gaudium in the plural (as it is in our prayer) can also be “the outward expressions of joy”. In a supplement to the L&S, A. Souter’s Glossary of Later Latin to 600 A.D., we discover that gaudium is “everlasting blessedness” while laetitia is simply “prosperity”. So, in Souter we still uncover something of the spiritual versus material distinction. Blaise/Dumas, or Le Vocabulaire Latin des principaux thèmes liturgiques, implies that laetitia and gaudium are pretty much the same thing.

Are these distinctions really important? The dictates of ancient rhetoric (and this prayer is ancient) required copia verborum, a richness of vocabulary to avoid boring repetition. Nevertheless, each word gives us “joy”, but with shades of meaning. Perhaps a solution is found in L&S’s explanation that gaudium is “like our ‘joy’, for an object which produces joy, a cause or occasion of joy”. You might think in terms of someone saying, “You are a real joy to me!” For us who, raised up from our sins, die in God’s friendship, the object which will produce joy is, in this world the state of grace and a clean conscience and, in the next life, the Beatific Vision and Communion of Saints.

L&S indicates that erigo, giving us erexisti, means “to raise up, set up, erect” and, analogously, “to arouse, excite” and “cheer up, encourage.” The verb iaceo (in the L&S find this under jaceo) has many meanings, such as “to lie” as in “lie sick or dead, fallen” and also “to be cast down, fixed on the ground” and “to be overcome, despised, idle, neglected, unemployed.” Humilitas is “lowness”. In Blaise/Dumas, humilitas has a more theological meaning in the “abasement” of the God Incarnate who took the form of a “slave” (cf. Philippians 2:7). Blaise/Dumas cites this Collect in the entry for humilitas.

LITERAL TRANSLATION:
O God, who raised up a fallen world by the abasement of Your Son, grant holy joy to Your faithful;
so that You may cause those whom You snatched from the misfortunes of perpetual death,
to enjoy delights unending.

Our Collect views material creation as an enervated body, wounded, weakened by sin, lying near death in the dust whence it came. In the sin of our First Parents all creation was wounded. The harmony there ought to have been between the rest of material creation and man, its steward, has been damaged.

Because of the Fall, the whole cosmos was put under the bondage of the Enemy, the “prince of this world” (cf. John 10:31 and 14:30). This is why when we bless certain things, and baptize people, there was an exorcism first, to rip the object or person from the grip of the world’s “prince” and give it to the King. God is liberator. He rouses us up from being prone upon the ground. He grasps us, pulling us upward out of sin and death. He directs us again toward the joys possible in this world, first, and then definitively in the next.

But we must get back to our feet: rise again.

Our Savior rose for this reason. We have seen in many of our ancient Roman prayers a pattern of descent and ascent, of exit and return. Before the Resurrection there is the Passion. Before exaltation there is humiliation. The descent, exit, Passion and humiliation bring an even more exalted joy which will embrace the entirety of man in both soul and body, the interior and the outward human person. Ultimately, it will embrace the entire cosmos.

by Jeffrey Tucker

The archives contain images of thousands of young Catholic school children in the 1920s learning chant. It is a beautiful thing to see. But what happened to these people and why weren’t they around to protect the liturgy against what happened after the Second Vatican Council? This question touches on the great mystery I’ve been thinking about for some 20 years and I’ve yet to come up with a satisfactory answer. Perhaps that’s because there isn’t one answer.

One thing that is clear: it is absolutely not the case that Gregorian chant was in full flourish before Vatican II and then suddenly disappeared after. Many contemporary accounts of music in the 1950s document that the modal liturgical experience was Low Mass with English and Latin hymnody. High Mass typically used Psalm tones propers accompanied by organ, while the ordinary of the Mass used popular settings that are long forgotten.

Many puzzle about why folk music took over in the 1960s. A more interesting question is how and why authentic Gregorian chant didn’t have much of a presence in the liturgy before the 1960s. How could this have happened? After all, the long-awaited Motu Proprio of Pius X came out in 1903. The new Graduals from Solesmes and the Vatican — the culmination of a half century of research — came out in 1908. The push throughout the first half of the 20th century was intense, from what I can tell. There were schools, classes, instruction manuals, and even clear mandates in place.

And yet by the 1950s, all evidence suggests that the chant was barely living. I’ve always been spooked by a book called Chants for Church published by the Gregorian Institute of America in 1954. There was nothing in particular wrong with the book as such. It was just that it was so minimalist. It had only popular chant hymns. I’ve always wondered if this book represented a last ditch effort.

Then of course the whole structure of Catholic music unraveled immediately following the Council. It’s a strange thing to read what the Council said about the first place of chant in the Mass and then to read the accounts of how secular folk music swept the liturgy in America from 1965 all the way through to the promulgation of the new ritual in 1969 and 1970. By the time the music of the St. Louis Jesuits came along, many saw it as a sacralizing influence and a welcome relief.

Among the theories I’ve toyed with for why all this happened or what was going on I would include the following. I’ve considered the possibility that chant was actually still making progress in the 1950s but was still not ubiquitous; had that progress continued, we would have seen it really take hold. I’ve also wondered if World War II devastated American parish choirs by sending the men out to war and the women to work, and everyone else was just too focussed on the war on the home front to bother with difficult things like chant. That disruption was never repaired. Or perhaps real chant was just too hard and Catholics are lazy and like English.

Maybe all of those are factors. Regardless, the center couldn’t hold after the Council. The language was changed, the calendar was scheduled to be changed, and Gregorian chant seemed inapplicable. Or maybe it was the culture itself that proved too hard to resist. Or maybe it was purely a demographically driven change. The teens outnumbered the adults in the parishes of the 1960s — and entirely unprecedented situation — and they therefore had their way.

All of these are factors, and there are probably more too, such as the loss of a real sense of what liturgy is and does and why it matters. How many people in mid century truly understood that the music of the Mass is just as embedded as part of its history as the text? How many people really understand the destination of the liturgy is not to remain in time with the community but to transcend time and touch eternity?

I obsessed about these topics not because I want to keep stirring the pot from the past but because I’m seeking lessons for the future. What can we do today that the generation of musicians in Pope Pius X’s day did not do? What can we learn from the mistakes of the past? How can we prepare the way for a singing Church in which Gregorian chant truly does serve as the ideal?

There are many answers to these questions. We’ve worked on putting out English chant, holding elaborate national conferences, running forums and blogs, publishing serious books on the topic, speaking on the radio and making videos, and much more. Every bit helps the cause of chant evangelism.

Of all the methods we used, there is one that rises above everything else in my mind, one approach that I feel very confident has made the most substantive contribution to giving chant a real future in Catholic liturgy. That step is that we’ve all worked very hard to put as many chant editions online as possible, and made these editions as part of the commons of humanity. Anyone can download them. Anyone can sing them. Anyone can print them. Anyone can do all these things without asking permission, without paying fees, and without facing any legal reprisal at all.

This approach represents a recreation of the status that chant held in a pre-technology age from the early centuries. The music was owned by everyone. It had no one author. It was composed to evoke the stories in the text. Anyone who believed in it could share it. It was mainly transmitted through oral culture but the printed editions, once they came along, were also common property. In other words, chant was part of what is today called “free culture” — artistic expression that is not held as the intellectual property of anyone.

Did you know that Pope Pius X wanted this status to pertain to the chants he asked to be published in 1908? I just discovered this for myself, as part of a paper that I’m delivered in Rome at the Sacra Liturgia conference in July. In the course of my research I found the following statements from the Pope:

On March 9, 1904, Msgr. Giovanni Bressan, the private secretary to Pope Pius X, sent a letter to the Solesmes monastery in France that had long been at work on reconstructing the melodies of Gregorian chant. It was sent in the care of Dom Paul Delatte and read as follows:

His Holiness has arrived at the decision to publish at the Vatican Press the edition of liturgical books containing the chant of the Roman Church. This edition, produced under the auspices of the Holy See, will not have restricted copyright but any publisher will be permitted to reprint it as may please him best.

The Solesmes Abbey complied, and ratified a donation of its rights to the chant books on April 6 of that same year. Msgr. Bressan wrote of

the marvelous promptness with which Your Reverence accepted the invitation of His Holiness to collaborate in the preparation of a a Vatican Edition containing the melodies of the Church and intended for the free use of all the churches throughout the world.

When the announcement came of the coming Vatican Gradual, the following wording was approved by Pius X:

His Holiness does not wish to establish a privilege of monopoly for any publisher… As the pages are issued by the Vatican Press, they will be placed at the disposed of the publishers who will have the right to reproduce them but without change.

And yet what happened? When the Graduals finally appeared in 1908, both the Solesmes and Vatican editions were held in copyright that was covered under the Berne Convention of 1886. This switch came about largely because of a dispute over rhythm. The sides in the debate went to their corners and came out fighting. Copyright was one of their weapons.

That meant that their status as part of “free culture” came to an end. After 1913, Solesmes became the only authorized publisher. Everyone has had to ask and then pay, or face legal reprisals.

This proprietary culture of the chant began to spread. Publishers and authors held tightly to their manuscripts. There was even an event in 1929 when a chant school was forced to destroy all its books because a powerful person claimed that they infringed on copyright. Most singers and composers all through the second half of the 19th century were certain that they would face terrible consequences if they so much as put an episema on a punctum, much less made a mimeograph of a chant (but they did it anyway).

So guess what kind of music took hold after the Second Vatican Council? The choice was for free culture music then called folk. As Ken Canedo said of this music:

The folk song, like the Bible, grew from an oral tradition, pre-dating radio and recording technology. A singer observed a slice of life, turned the observation into a song and, with guitar or banjo, presented it to anyone who would hear, perhaps on a front porch, at the town square, or down in the mine. If people liked it they would sing along and bring the new song home to share with a new audience…. Sometimes the lyrics would change, sometimes the tune was modified, and no thought was ever given to composer credits or copyright protection. A song was a song, something free and sweet for the entire world to sing. And a good song was very sweet indeed.

How much does this have to do with the switch. I cannot say for sure but I do know several things: 1) The Pope never intended for chant to be copyright protected, 2) Copyright protected music cannot ever have the same social impact as free culture, 3) What won the day after Vatican II came from the free culture, 4) the successor music to folk is today as locked down as chant was in the 20th century, and 5) chant is now restored to its openness and availability as never before thanks to the Internet.

These are the themes my paper explores. To me, this thesis points to a very bright future for chant.