Editorial:
Liturgical Music and the Restoration of the Sacred
Rev. Robert A. Skeris
The following address opened a Colloquium on Musica Sacra at Christendom College,
June 28-30, 1991.
Permit me to confess that as I stand before you this evening, I feel a sensation similar to
that which of old surely moved the <pius pater Aeneas> when he stood _ or rather, sat,
as Vergil says _ among the courtiers at Carthage before the <infelix regina>, the ill-
starred Dido, in response to her command to speak. The moment in which I now find
myself, that instant between introduction and response, was described by Vergil in the
famous verse: <conticuere omnes intentique ora tenebant> _ All fell silent now, and
their faces were all attention (Aen. 2/1, C. Day Lewis).
And the attention paid to Aeneas, the attention with which you sit here this evening, is
such as to intimidate even the <virum fortem et tenacem>, even a brace and tenacious
man. That is, of course, because this attention is motivated by a very particular
expectation, aroused by the <res dura et regni novitas> which typify the situation of
<Musica sacra> and its apostles in our own day and age. With that, we proceed from
the overture to the exposition of our theme. . . .
I. The Sacrum
It is surely a commonplace that the knowledge gained through rational discourse is
often difficult to separate cleanly from extrarational knowledge: what Plato referred to
as <logos> is in fact quite closely related to mythos understood in the fullest sense of
that term. That which does not admit of precise verbal expression will, after long
attention and ever deepening familiarity, arise "like a blaze kindled by a leaping spark,
and thereafter nourish itself" in the soul.1
In other words, man's basic longing to discover meaning in the world is not
stilled by reasoned thought alone, but also through myth and symbol as mediators of
the transcendent to man's level. In the Christian dispensation, this need is met and
satisfied in an important way through the Liturgy, which embodies in its sacraments
the eternal renewal of past events with their saving content of supernatural grace.
Christian faith has replaced the mere mythic tales of ancient (and modern) paganism
with the supernatural, with a personal God Who creates the world and all its creatures
so that He can establish with both a relationship based on His transcendence and His
personhood. The sacred symbols and myths of the Christian religion are a translation,
so to speak, of the supernatural which is rendered present in the lives of Christians
through the cult, through prayer, ritual, and a sense of the sacred community of
believers. This is the <sacred> component, which is denied by the rationalistic,
scientific, individualistic world of today.
It is admittedly easier to describe the <sacrum> negatively than it is to define it
positively.2 In view of our present purpose, it will be well to concentrate upon one
salient aspect: that of <mediation.>3
Rudolph Otto's analysis of religious experience tends to confirm the fact that the
sacred or the "numinous" (to use Otto's term) involves a living force, "an overpowering,
absolute might of some kind," as we observe in the Bible and in the Semitic religions
generally.4 (One thinks of the Hebrew <qad�sh>, Greek <hagios>, Latin <sacer>, etc.).
This numinous power originates in a source beyond the cult, a source which we call
God. His divine reality is not made manifest to the senses in any direct and immediate
way, for like Moses on Mount Sinai, we bare our feet, avert our eyes, and fall on our
knees when the Almighty says, <Vacate, et videte quoniam ego sum Deus>: Be still,
and know that I am God (Ps 45:11). Hence the need for <mediation>. Just as the Eastern
Church refers to icons as "windows to God," so too the sacred mediates between the
supernatural on the one hand, and our openness and receptivity (theologically, our
sacramental dispositions) on the other. The sacred has stability and permanence; it is
able to elevate and inspire; to be transmitted and handed on, which is why "rite means
rote." The <mysterium tremendum et fascinosum> which lies at the heart of the
numinous and its "aweful majesty" (Otto) explains why we feel a sense of awe before
sacred objects or in sacred places (though not in many a contemporary church
building); why we experience identical sentiments during the performance of sacred
rites in sacred time using gestures hallowed by their transcendent significance.
This is not mere empty emotionalism, nor an appeal to credulity. It corresponds to a
reality more real than what we commonly call `reality'. The unembraceable Divinity is
present through the sacred, by means of which the Divinity transmits a force it does not
employ in contact with humbler forms of life. We call it: grace. . . .5
To appreciate the realm of the sacred we need to be aware of a reality placed by God
between humanity and Himself "not as a filter, or a screen, or an obstruction, but as a
mediator" (Molnar). In this basic sense, the sacred is an element in every religion, but
the decisive difference between the Christian religion and all other creeds and their
cultic symbols is, at bottom, the dogma of the Incarnation. For us:
Christ (Himself) is the <axis mundi;> the story of His birth is the one reference point of
all other and later Christian stories . . . and the Cross replaces the intersection of cosmic
forces. More than that, through the Incarnation Christ is now the only mediator
between the divine and the human. . . . He is the truly sacred channel, present and
mediating in every sacrament, in the Mass and its central elevation, the Eucharist. He is
also present in artistic expressions, from roadside crucifixes to the pattern of cathedrals,
from the retelling and reenacting of the birth at Bethlehem to Dante's grandiose
composition; . . .6
. . and from the unassuming melodic miracles of <cantus Gregorianus> to the
monumental double fugue which crowns the <Gloria> of Anton Bruckner's E minor
Mass.
Of course, all this is widely disputed in theory and practice by a generation
which believes it has experienced the verification of Feuerbach's prediction that the
turning point of history would be the moment when man would realize that his only
God is man himself: <homo homini deus>. . . .
Any attempt to explain the supernatural in terms of the natural, and to re-
interpret the sacred in a scientific or socio-political perspective, runs the risk of
destroying the extrarational or, if you will, the "mythic" foundation of the sacred, which
results in the degradation of the cult to lifeless routine and in the perception of
formerly expressive symbols as meaningless. Titus Burckhardt puts it thus:
In every collectivity unfaithful to its own traditional form, to the sacred framework of
its life, there ensues a collapse, a mummification of the symbols it had received, and
this process will be reflected in the psychic life of every individual.7
Though he refers <exprofesso> to cosmology and modern science, Burckhardt could
well have written those words as a description of the malaise afflicting such wide areas
of the <Ecclesia hujus temporis>. . . .
But the numinous has another visage, as what may be called a "social dynamic"
(Molnar). This means that the sacred is directed toward a potentially universal
assembly, toward a community and not toward one single person. Mircea Eliade has
shown that manifestations of the numinous or emanations of power (hierophanies or
kratophanies, as Eliade calls them) are by no means simply an individual affair, but
essentially communal. God can of course dispense with the mechanism of mediation
and reveal Himself directly. But even Moses, Paul and Francis went on to carry the
good news and its palpable effects to a collectivity, the <communio sanctorum>, the
fabled "community" of song and story.8
Let us sum up our first point. The sacred or the numinous pertains to the sphere
of <mediation> between the ultimately real _ the Creator _ and the world of men. And
when God enjoins the people (in Deut 6:4-5) to love Him with heart and soul and all
their might, He is also telling us that all the faculties and senses of the composite being
"man" are to be enlisted in the act of worship, in the cult. And that brings us to the
development of our theme.
II. Musica Sacra
Given the "scandal" of mediation9 which forms the core of the incarnational
principle, it is not difficult to understand why <musica sacra> may be regarded as a
kind of "secondary cause" through which the believer, singing his prayer <ante faciem
Domini>, can reach the transcendent God in worship while opening himself to receive
the supernatural riches which God in turn wishes to bestow upon him.
But what sort of music furnishes the appropriate form for such supremely
meaningful content? Plainly, a music which will permit man to feel that transcendent
attraction or "pull" which elevates him to a higher level, or at least to higher moments.
In practice, the matter is settled when we have given an honest answer to the one
absolutely fundamental question: is the cult (and here more precisely, the Divine
Liturgy) really a sacred action (<actio sacra>) in the strict sense, in the course of which
God Himself becomes present in Jesus Christ? Or is it simply a matter of an event in
which nothing real actually occurs, nothing which would in principle surpass the
merely human? Once this question has been answered in the spirit of true faith, then
nothing more need be said. . . .
The point is worth repeating: if Holy Mass is indeed a sacrifice, an <actio sacra
praecellenter> (as the last Council rightly termed it), then one of its necessary and
integral parts will be a <musica> which perforce is also sacra (Liturgy Constitution
<Sacros. Concilium>, art. 112). But if something else is being "celebrated," for example
the fraternal gathering of a given community or a merely commemorative meal, then a
very different kind of <musica> will be required. . . . perhaps a "polka Mass," or some
"contemporary" music through which "the congregation (and each individual in it)
becomes the Voice of God."10
But how explain the widespread disregard of such a plain truth? Perhaps we can find a
clue in some of the recent studies which have examined the "sutures" along lines where
the Catholic concept and modern liberal society meet and encourage a fusion of
<Weltanschauungen>. According to one such current analysis, this adjustment or
<aggiornamento> "is not a process of mutual accommodation, but of imitation and
adaptation to a dominant model."11 It has been quite plausibly suggested that the
ideology of modern society requires that the adjusting institution become:
_ <democratic> in mentality structure;
_ <pluralist> in its acceptance of other institutions, groups and movements; and
_ <ecumenical> in reformulating its vocation, making place for other beliefs that share,
at least outwardly, its own primary concerns.
It will perhaps be profitable to make use of this scheme for our own musico-liturgical
reflections upon the state of <musica sacra> a generation after the last Council.
We begin with <democratization>. In our particular context it is widely believed that
we no longer need choirs led by professionally trained musicians because now, in a
misconstrued interpretation of <actuosa participatio>, "everyone sings everything."
Why then tolerate the "elitism" of the competent <Kapellmeister> when the need of the
hour is (allegedly) to do away with liturgical "mystification" intended to uphold the
"theologically worthless ideology" of a cultic bureaucracy?12 The <thesaurus musicae
sacrae> is "out," profane banalities are "in;" provided only that they be in unison (or at
least include the omnipresent amplified cantor with his publicly-indulged <libido
dominandi>).
Next, another of today's great shibboleths: <pluralism.> During the World Synod of
Bishops held at Rome in 1985, the assembled prelates described pluralism as "a
juxtaposition of systems of belief that are fundamentally opposed to each other," thus
implicitly condemning it. Far from uncommon today is a "pluralistic" mixture of sacred
and profane music which, by the messages and countermessages it conveys within one
and the same liturgical service, completely obscures the true finality of the Divine
Liturgy, cripples genuine participation on the interior level, and produces boredom
and religious indifference in the communicants. Is it aberrant to ask whether we of the
Latin rite do not have something to learn in this respect from our sister Churches of the
East?13 Liturgico-cultural pluralists claim, of course, that their agenda embodies the
very essence of freedom and hence is not really an imposition upon any individual or
group. Sadly, however, such persons overlook the fact that freedom of viewpoints and
messages leads to the repression of the weak by the strong, elimination of the good by
the bad, substitution of the profane for the sacred _ and all in the name of freedom.
Finally, <ecumenism>. A practicing Catholic church musician and published composer
has recently asked whether hymns with strong non-Catholic associations do not
confuse or even antagonize the Catholic faithful by furthering "a misunderstanding of
the basic premise of Catholic evangelization."14 The matter is surely worth a moment's
reflection. And since the topical is the key to reality, let us consider some examples.
Many Roman Catholic hymnals published in this country during the past fifteen years
include the Protestant "gospel" hymn "Amazing Grace," presumably because the source
of the "American traditional" tune ("New Britain" or "McIntosh") is the "Virginia
Harmony" published in 1831 by James P. Carrell and David S. Clayton, and most often
sung today in the harmonization of Edwin O. Excell. The tune may be "American
traditional," but which tradition does the <text> reflect? A <Catholic> tradition? A
current non-Catholic hymnal15 prints "Amazing Grace" under the sectional heading
"The Gospel _ Repentance and Forgiveness," and one can find the hymn in the topical
index under "Grace," "Salvation," and "Testimony." The author of the text, John Newton
(1725-1807) was an evangelical divine in Great Britain who "in theology was a
pronounced Calvinist," as the standard theological reference works inform us.
"Pronounced Calvinism" implies adherence to Calvin's doctrine of the inadmissibility
of divine grace and the certitude of salvation, as well as those basic doctrines
characteristic of Lutheranism. One is therefore not surprised to find the personal
pronouns "I-me-my" more than ten times in the text, which leads one to suspect that the
author held a typically Lutheran <reflexive> faith.16 Here, the legitimate liturgist
cannot forbear to ask whether the archetypical attitudes <sola gratia> or <sola
scriptura> are in fact "specifically Catholic themes _ those central to our Catholic
identity" (Hubley)? If not, then could it be that the presence of such themes in a hymn
text might eventually produce a "lulling effect upon our Catholic consciousness"
(Hubley)?
If melodies like "Tu es Petrus" or "<Ave Maria>" or "<Oremus pro Pontifice nostro>"
may be regarded as distinctively Catholic, then surely "<Ein'feste Burg>" ("A mighty
fortress is our God") is as characteristically Protestant. The text is based on Ps. 46
(<Deus noster refugium et virtus>), though the original does not contain the trendy
references to "guns and nuclear might" which one finds nowadays. It was in 1529, the
year of the Diet of Speyer and the Colloquy of Marburg, that Martin Luther wrote this
hymn as a truculent statement of Protestant identity. For Luther, man is justified by a
kind of legal fiction. That is to say, God regards sinful man as righteous, owing to the
merits of Christ, while in reality man remains as sinful as before. In this famous hymn,
Luther expressed the idea this way:
<Es ist doch unser Tun umsonst,
auch in dem besten Leben. .> . .
With might of ours can nought be done,
Soon were our loss effected.
But for us fights the Valiant One
Whom God Himself elected.
No wonder, then, that this hymn became (and remains) the "battle hymn" of the
Reformation _ and that not only in Central and Northern Europe.17
It is not without interest to note the "rubrics" under which the classic American
Protestant hymnals present "A mighty fortress." The Protestant Episcopal "Hymnal
1940" listed it as a "general" hymn, with the third and fourth verses of the Hedge
English text marked by an asterisk, meaning that they could properly be omitted (by
Episcopalians, at least?) without violating the sense. The "Service Book and Hymnal" of
the Lutheran Church in America (1958) included the hymn in a section entitled "The
Church," while "The Lutheran Hymnal" of the Lutheran Church-Missouri Synod listed
it as a "Reformation" hymn and printed the original syncopated ("rhythmic") form of
the melody.
Again we must ask: if a hymn is laden with non-Catholic associations, why are Catholic
congregations asked to sing it? And if it be answered that the text is patient of an
orthodox Catholic interpretation, then why does one ask our people to sing ambiguous
platitudes? This is a point to consider seriously, since even though the dogmas of the
Faith remain, strictly speaking, unchanged, is it not likely that borrowings such as these
tend in reality to deemphasize the importance of the core teachings of our Faith, and to
reorientate them toward something more acceptable to the contemporary climate of
opinion and belief? Given the context of the present day, it is perhaps not so farfetched
to perceive here traces of what one knowledgeable observer recently referred to as the
"softer image" which is increasingly preferred to dogmatic "hardness."18
On the basis of this brief analysis, we may perhaps attempt a recapitulation. <Musica
sacra> worthy of the <Ecclesia orans> as she performs the <opus Dei inter nos> should
be:
_ <elitist> and not merely "democratic" because <musica sacra> is related to the <actio
praecellenter sacra> of the Christian cult like color to sunset, like thought to the mind.
<Musica sacra> raises the
MIND (hence, intelligent listening to the artistic
music of the choir as well as an intelligent
rendition of music suited to congregational
singing)
and raises the
HEART (hence, artistic music which will call up
a valid emotional response)
to GOD (and not only to neighbor, for worship is
directed to God).19
_ <monist> and not merely "pluralistic" because here on earth there is only one
problem, and it was solved on Mount Sinai: it is the problem of adoration (E. Hello).
The grace of the Redemption imparted in Baptism brings with it the indwelling of the
Holy Ghost, the <Pneuma> Who enables the "new man" to intone the "new song." So it
is that Christians as members of Christ's Mystical Body, in union with Him Who is the
<primus cantor Novae Legis>, praise and glorify the Father in a "logocentric" manner.
For after all, the God-Man Jesus Christ, Who alone can lovingly adore the Father in a
completely adequate way, is in fact the <logos tou theou>, indeed the <logos pros ton
theon>. He is the "fore-Word" to the word sung in the "New Song" (L. Ziegler). Just as
men are cleansed of sin through the grace of Baptism, so too any music must be
"purified" and thus "transformed," which desires to "elevate" to the Father in the
<Pneuma>. In the words of St. Pius X, <musica sacra> must needs be "free from all that
is profane, both in itself and in the way it is performed."
_firmly <grounded in Catholic truth> and tradition, and not in a vague and euphoric
ecumenism, because the protological principle of religion and its cultic expression is
that the truth coincides with or is convertible with Being, and that human truth is a
participation in this primary truth, just as finite being is a participation in the <ens
primum>. Is it in fact true that the <reversion> of the separated brethren to the true
Church of God has now been replaced by the <conversio>n of all confessions to the
total Christ Who is found outside of them and in Whom all of them must converge?
After all, there does exist a <status> of each Christian within which his personal
religious perfection takes place and from which he does not need to transfer or convert
himself to some other <status>. In other words, conversion _ understood as the
continuous progress of each Christian toward perfection _ is necessary in itself for the
work of reuniting the Church, but it does not constitute the essence of this work, since it
is but one moment of each man's personal destiny.20
And thus we arrive at the <coda.>
III. Restoration of the Sacred?
The approach of the second millennium, and the profound and unexpected
changes which have affected so many nations in the very recent past, have helped rouse
a growing chorus of voices calling for a restoration of Christian culture, for example in
Europe or in the West as a whole.21
But is there a truly realistic prospect of such a restoration in the foreseeable
future? The question is surely justified, since the chief elements of such a potential
restoration seem to be lacking. Perhaps it is not so much a question of certain new
initiatives or of pursuing what is already there, but rather a question of the spirit. Is the
challenge not one of spiritual presence?22
The forms of culture depend upon something more than human decisions.
Cultures derive their content and their contours from their cosmology, for communities
form and organize themselves in accord with what they believe to be the transcendent
reality of the cosmos.23 But once the cosmos itself has become "opaque, inert, mute,"
then it can no longer transmit a message, and as a result the metaphysical significance
of symbols is no longer perceived.24
To the degree that contemporary man considers himself absolute _ <homo
homini deus>, a view encouraged by modern science and ideology _ man has no need
for symbols, myths, or the sacred which formerly mediated man's understanding of a
transcendent Being. But many of our contemporaries hold that one cannot know being,
but only signs: a thing is its perception by a perceiver.
And thus, when the mediating function of <musica sacra> is no longer appreciated in
these latter days, the apostolate of the competent <Kapellmeister> all too often seems
"bound in shallows and in miseries." And yet, he must not leave the "land flowing with
milk and honey," to follow the pied pipers of profanation into the city of confusion and
the house of bondage.25
What, then, is to be done? One should recall that the very word <culture>
contains the word <cult>, and that "the Christian ideal lives and works in the
ceremonies of the cult."26 The reason is plain: both cult and culture demand faith in the
supernatural, and that total dedication to such faith which furnishes a solid foundation
for religious belief as well as for artistic creation. It is the Church's "firm grasp of the
supernatural" (Molnar) which links individual experience with the collective
phenomenon we call culture. The cultic energy of the Church cannot be renewed
without our own absolute devotion to the supernatural through all those sacramental
and sacred channels by which it is mediated to man. The cultic lies buried in the soil of
faith, and it will not do to let this soil lie fallow.27
To be sure, the propagation of the faith through catechesis, homiletics and
formal instruction is not the primary apostolate of the church musician. But he too must
do his part, from his position at the crossroads where the final clash between Christ and
the world takes place. "If ye were of the world, the world would love his own: but
because ye are not of the world, but I have chosen you out of this world, therefore the
world hateth you" (John 15:19). T. S. Eliot reminds us that the proximate cause of the
fading of European culture is the enfeeblement of Christian faith.
If Christianity goes, the whole of our culture goes. Then you must start painfully again
and you cannot put on a new culture ready-made. You must wait for the grass to grow
to feed the sheep to give the wool out of which your new coat will be made. You must
live through many centuries of barbarism. We should not live to see the new culture,
nor would our great-great-great grandchildren. And if we did, not one of us would be
happy with it.28
Of the "three which now abideth," the Apostle rightly says that the greatest of these is
charity. But the most topical for church musicians today is surely <hope>, because our
apostolate involves a share in God's redeeming action and is consequently a type of
<mediation>. After all, it is from God that the cultic singer receives the words of prayer
which he intones, and it is to God that the singer directs his prayerful song _ but at the
same time he passes this song on to others. Thus the cultic singer shares in the
sacramental and liturgical action of Christ and the Church as His interpreter, His
herald, His spokesman, as the intermediary who through sacred song interprets the
signs of salvation by reflecting "the light of the knowledge of the glory of God (<tes
doxes tou theou>) in the face of Jesus Christ. . . ." (2 Cor 4:6).
Our final cadence is therefore a hopeful one, even though contemporary church history,
which studies the recent past, cannot escape the conclusion that the efforts made thus
far toward realizing the intentions of the last Council have not produced the benefits
envisioned by that Sacred Synod.29 A perceptible change will come about only through
greater willingness toward interior conversion which leads to a new and more
profound reflection on the spiritual level. Without this pre-condition, any "re-
evangelization" will experience the same fate as did the Council.30 The true path to real
change is indicated by St. Paul: And be not conformed to this world: but be ye
transformed by the renewing of your mind (tou noos hym�n), that ye may prove what
is that good and acceptable and perfect will of God (Rom 12:2).
Therefore, "Say not the struggle availeth naught." The soul of all culture is and will
remain the culture of the soul.31 And that way lies our hope, which is the last gift from
Pandora's box.
ENDNOTES
1 On this see Plato, Ep. VII (341 D) and compare his description of the "mystic" vision of
the Idea in Symposion 210 E.
2 See e.g. R. Caillois, L'homme et le sacr� (Paris, 1950); J. Pieper, Zustimmung zur Welt.
Eine Theorie des Festes (M�nchen, 1963); G. Heilfurth, Fest und Feier: W�rterbuch der
Soziologie (Stuttgart, 1969), 275-77 with further literature; J. -J. Wunenberger, Le Sacr�
(Paris, 1981).
3 T. Molnar, Twin Powers: Politics and the Sacred (Grand Rapids, 1988), 7-9 has
recently proposed a helpful distinction between the sacred as a reality, and as a social
dynamic. The paragraphs which follow are indebted to his analysis.
4 R. Otto, The Idea of the Holy, trans. J. W. Harvey (London, 1970 = 1923), 8-40, here
esp. 13-24.
5 Molnar, 7.
6 Ibid., 23.
7 T. Burckhardt, Cosmology and Modern Science, J. Needleman, ed., The Sword of
Gnosis. Metaphysics, Cosmology, Tradition, Symbolism (Baltimore, 1974), 173.
8 It will be helpful to note that "community" or "fellowship" (Greek: koin�nia) means
that a large number of men receives or has a share in something which is greater and
more inclusive than they themselves (e.g. koin�nia of Jesus Christ, of the Holy Ghost, of
the sufferings of Christ), and precisely through their common participation they are
related to each other. Far from meaning that one can "build community" through
naively superficial "togetherness," NT usage indicates that the reality denoted is simply
that a multiplicity of men participate existentially in a more sublime reality through
which they are joined to each other at the level of existence. See R. Skeris, Via Nova,
Viator Novvs, Canticvm Novvm. The Theology of Praise in Song according to
Augustine's Discourses on the Psalms: Divini Cultus Studium = MuSaMel 3 (Alt�tting,
1990), 57-82, here 70, n. 29.
9 C. De Koninck, Le scandale de la m�diation (Paris, 1962), 267: "It is natural for man to
grasp even the most certain principles under the dependence of the senses." Four
hundred years earlier, the Council of Trent recognized the same ageless truth. Cf.
Denzinger-Sch�nmetzer (1963), 1746, for example.
10 T. Day, Why Catholics Can't Sing: The Culture of Catholicism and the Triumph of
Bad Taste (New York, 1990), 65; R. Skeris, Divini Cultus Studium, 236, 16.
11 T. Molnar, The Church, Pilgrim of Centuries (Grand Rapids, 1990), 31-43. The
elements of this analysis are followed in the succeeding paragraphs.
12 The expressions are those of F. Rainoldi and E. Costa, Jr., Canto e Musica: D. Sartore
and A. M. Triacca, eds., Nuovo Dizionario Liturgico (Rome, 1984), 198-219, here 200a,
206a, 211a.
13 On this see e.g. R. Skeris, Divini Cultus Studium, 83-91, here esp. 89-90.
14M. O. Hubley, Stones Instead of Bread: Reflections on "Contemporary" Hymns
(Huntington, 1990), 23-26, here 25-26.
15 Worship and Service Hymnal (Chicago, 1958), no. 227.
16 The sort of faith in which the ego bends back upon itself within the very act of faith,
is fittingly called "reflexive" faith by P. Hacker, The Ego in Faith: Martin Luther and the
Origins of Anthropocentric Religion (Chicago, 1970), 9. This penetrating study should
be consulted in close conjunction with the author's Das Ich im Glauben bei Martin
Luther (Graz, 1966).
17 For example, the connection between the typically Lutheran doctrine and the hymn
is explicitly made by ODCC (1961), 833.
18 T. Day, Why Catholics Can't Sing, 67-69.
19 On this and the following, see R. Skeris, Divini Cultus Studium, 114-23, here 114-15.
20 Thus R. Amerio, Iota Unum: Studio delle variazioni della Chiesa cattolica nel secolo
XX (Milano: Ricciardi, 1986), 457; 464-90, here esp. 464-65, 467.
21 For instance, C. Dawson, Christianity in East and West (LaSalle, 1981), 87.
22 The question is put thus by T. Molnar, The Church, 131-32.
23 T. Molnar, Twin Powers, 69.
24 R. Guenon, The Crisis of the Modern World, trans. M. Pallis and R. Nicholson
(London, 1962), 36-47; M. Eliade, The Two and the One, trans. J. M. Cohen (New York,
1965), 100.
25 Cf. J. Kerr, John Henry Newman: A Biography (Oxford, 1988), 509.
26 Thus A. Loisy, M�moires pour servir � l'histoire religieuse de notre temps (Paris,
1930), 1-364.
27 This is the apt phrase coined by T. Molnar, The Church, 111-12.
28 T. S. Eliot, Notes Toward the Definition of Culture (New York, 1949), 122. On the
relationship of cult and culture, see also 19-32, esp. 26-32.
29 U. Bomm, Kultgesang als t�tige Teilnahme am Gotteswerk: CVO 80 (1960), 5-14, here
above all 9, as cited in R. Skeris, Divini Cultus Studium, 30.
30 A. Fischer, Kirche und seelsorge in der �ra des Konzils und der Kulturrevolution =
Pastoral in Deutschland nach 1945, Bd. 3 (W�rzburg, 1990), 312. The author is a
Catholic priest who since 1948 has played a leading role in the central office of German
National Catholic Charities as head of the Department of Pastoral Care.
31 Die Seele aller Kultur bleibt die Kultur der Seele. M. Card. v. Faulhaber, Our
religious culture: Rufende Stimmen in der W�ste der Gegenwart. Collected sermons,
addresses, pastoral letters (Freiburg i./Br. 1931), 62.
This article was taken from the Fall 1991 issue of "Faith & Reason". Subscriptions
available from Christendom Press, 2101 Shenandoah Shores Road, Ft. Royal, VA 22630,
703-636-2900, Fax 703-636-1655. Published quarterly at $20.00 per year.
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