Carl E. Olson's Blog, page 8

William Byrd and the beckoning of beauty

William Byrd and the beckoning of beauty | Peter M.J. Stravinskas | The Dispatch at CWR

Style and class have been banished from most Catholic sanctuaries in our land – and we are all the poorer for it. The transient, the ephemeral, the cheap have replaced the beautiful, the uplifting, the inspiring.

Editor's note: The following is a homily preached by the Reverend Peter M. J. Stravinskas, Ph.D., S.T.D., on October 17, 2016, at the Votive Mass in honor of the English Martyrs, at the Church of the Holy Innocents in New York City.

As spiritual preparation for our lecture later this evening, we are celebrating a votive Mass in honor of the English martyrs. I am not going to preach about them, however, because Joanna Bogle knows infinitely more about them than I. Instead, I want to connect those martyrs and that era to other very important realities. Philosophers talk about “the transcendentals,” among which we count the good, the true and the beautiful. After all, it was none other than Aristotle who taught us that “the good, the true and the beautiful” coinhere, that is, you can’t have one without the other.

We Catholics are often very intent on leading others to “the true,” that is, to a submission of the intellect to Catholic doctrine and dogma – and that is a good and holy goal. However, resistance to “the true” is not uncommon. Indeed, when the intellect is darkened by habitual sin, “the true” not infrequently cannot be perceived as worthy of acceptance and is thus rejected out of hand as either incredible or absurd.

I suspect that people most often are brought to the truth by being exposed to “the good” or “the beautiful.” William Byrd, arguably the most accomplished liturgical musician in Reformation England along with Thomas Tallis, can provide us with flesh-and-blood evidence for this intuition of mine.

Byrd was born into a Protestant family and eventually became the court composer (with Tallis) under Queen Elizabeth. By the 1570s, Byrd was increasingly attracted to Catholicism. This was, humanly speaking, a strange attraction – a fatal attraction, one could say – given that the martyrdom of those loyal to “the old religion” was in full swing. Yet precisely under those circumstances did Byrd become a Catholic. I would maintain that he was drawn to the truth of Catholicism by the goodness, the holiness of the martyrs.

Byrd’s Catholic commitment found expression in his many motets with themes highlighting the persecution of the Chosen People in the Old Testament and their long-awaited deliverance. Who could not see (and hear) in these works an application to the plight of Catholics during the reign of Elizabeth? Interestingly, even though known to be a recusant (that is, one who refused to attend Anglican services), he continued to enjoy royal favor. Can we say that the Queen was so captivated by the beauty of his work that she was led to a good action in his regard – turning a blind eye to his practice of the Catholic Faith? Even more bizarre is the fact that the Episcopal Church in the United States honors Byrd with a feast in their liturgical calendar on November 21; just another sign of Anglican confusion, I suppose.

Byrd is also well known for his magnificent Mass compositions for three, four and five voices. You have heard some of them in this very church, and his Mass for Four Voices enhances our worship this evening. Most devotees of Byrd’s Masses, however, do not realize that they were not composed for and performed in grand cathedrals – those edifices had been purloined by the Protestants. No, those masterpieces were sung at “priest-hole” Masses – clandestine liturgies celebrated by priests under a death sentence and attended by laity whose very lives and fortunes were at stake for participating in “popish” worship.

Even in such dire straits, Byrd and the Catholic faithful wished to offer to the Triune God their very best and to be nourished themselves by those soaring melodies which brought them to contemplate heavenly realities.

Twenty years ago in this church on the feast of St. Gregory the Great, I bemoaned the reduction of language, art and music to the least common denominator.

Continue reading on the CWR site.

New: Workbook & DVD for "Happiness, Suffering, and the Love of God" by Fr. Robert Spitzer, SJ

Now available from Ignatius Press:

Happiness, Suffering, and the Love of God workbook

by Fr. Robert Spitzer, SJ

As Aristotle observed, "Happiness is the one thing you choose for itself; everything else is chosen for the sake of happiness." Yet even though happiness is our goal, many people don't know how to successfully pursue it. In this workbook accompanying the film series, Happiness, Suffering, and the Love of God, Fr. Robert Spitzer, S.J., Ph.D. explores happiness in the revealing light of human transcendence and immortality.

Beginning with the commonly held principle that different forms of happiness correspond to different fundamental human desires, Fr. Spitzer guides viewers through four distinct but related sources of happiness (pleasure, achievement, contribution, transcendence), showing how they form a hierarchy and explaining why only the highest level (transcendent happiness) will ultimately fulfill us. Along the way he presents fascinating evidence for our spiritual nature from philosophy, psychology, and contemporary studies of near-death experiences and the resurrection of Jesus Christ.

This is followed by an investigation into the mystery of suffering that begins with the parable of the Father of the Prodigal Son. Fr. Spitzer explains why an unconditionally loving God would allow suffering and also offers guidance on how to suffer well. 

Happiness, Suffering, and the Love of God provides answers to some of life's most vexing questions and dispels many popular misconceptions as it charts a fascinating course towards authentic and lasting happiness.

Happiness, Suffering, and the Love of God DVD:

EPISODE LISTING

Episode One: Four Levels of Happiness (61 min.)

Part 1: Introduction and Happiness Overview (35 min.)
Part 2: Escaping the Comparison Game (26 min.)

Episode Two: Human Transcendence and the Soul (60 min.)

Part 1: Evidence for Transcendence (40 min.)
Part 2: You are Made for Transcendence (20 min.)

Episode Three: The Resurrection of Jesus and Jesus' Revelation of the Unconditional Love of God (62 min.)

Part 1: The Resurrection (34 min.)
Part 2: The Love of God (28 min.)

Episode Four: Why Would an All-powerful, All-loving God Allow Suffering? (64 min.)

Part 1: Jesus' View of Suffering (32 min.)
Part 2: Why Does God Allow Suffering? (32 min.)

Episode Five: How To Suffer Well (71 min.)

Part 1: How to Suffer Well – Prayer (39 min.)
Part 2: How to Suffer Well – Virtue (32 min.)

Fr. Robert Spitzer, SJ, is a philosopher, educator, author and former President of Gonzaga University. He is founder and President of the Magis Institute, dedicated to public education on the relationship among the disciplines of physics, philosophy, reason, and faith. He is the head of the Ethics and Performance Institute which delivers web-based ethics education to corporations, and he is also President of the Spitzer Center of Ethical Leadership, which delivers similar curricula to non-profit organizations. His other books include Finding True Happiness, The Soul's Upward Yearning and Healing the Culture.

Second volume of Fr. Henri de Lubac’s Vatican Council Notebooks now available

Notebooks provide a glimpse into the inner workings of Vatican II

San Francisco, October 10, 2016 – “Surprising news!” With these words, Fr. Henri de Lubac, S.J., whose orthodoxy had been so vigorously attacked, responded to the announcement of his selection to participate in the Second Vatican Council. His participation as a theologian and expert would make a lasting impact on the Council, and his insights and comments are recorded in this long-awaited series of books, the Vatican Council Notebooks.

Now, Volume Two of the Vatican Council Notebooks is available. These Notebooks trace the two years of preparation, the four conciliar sessions, and the three periods between sessions. They give us the opportunity to assist at the discussion of the schemas (initial drafts of conciliar texts), but also, during the meetings of the theological commission and the sub-commissions, at the elaboration and correction of the texts submitted to the Council fathers. The eminent theologian de Lubac is a sure guide for the reader, introducing us to the theological ferment of the Council and helping us to grasp what was at stake in the often animated debates.
 
De Lubac does not hesitate to express clearly what he thinks of the theologians around him, of the new concepts appearing because of the Council, or of the problems he judges to be most serious for the Christian faith. These Notebooks invite us to a greater historical and theological understanding of the Council.
 
Besides information about the numerous aspects of the conciliar assembly, what makes the testimony of these notebooks so captivating is the strongly rendered presence of men and their psychology. De Lubac excels in sketching the portrait of the participants with only a few words.  Among the many interesting encounters, he tells of deepening his acquaintance with Josef Ratzinger, whom he describes as a “theologian as peaceable and kindly as he is competent”. In the same way, during the long discussion over the drafting of the constitution Gaudium et Spes, he observed the assertiveness of Karol Wojtyła, whose interventions struck him because of the seriousness, the rigor, and the solidity of his faith, which created in him a lively sense of  spiritual friendship, which was reciprocated.

In the preface to the Vatican Council Notebooks, Jacques Prevotat, Professor of Modern History at the University of Lille-III, writes, “These Notebooks bear witness to the difficulties Fr. de Lubac experienced in the years following the publication of Surnaturel (Supernatural, 1946), very much in evidence within the Theological Commission, in the preparatory period during which the theologian, just recently named to the commission by John XXIII, was confronted with future conciliar schemas prepared by his adversaries. Nevertheless, it was his theology that prevailed in Lumen Gentium and also in Dei Verbum.”

Fr. Joseph Fessio, S.J., Editor of Ignatius Press, says, “Fr. de Lubac has a historian’s keen eye as well as a theologian’s familiarity with the issues. As a participant at the Council, he described what really happened in the corridors and trattorie at Vatican II.”

About the Author:
Henri Cardinal de Lubac was a French Jesuit priest, theologian and expert at Vatican II. He wrote numerous theological and spiritual works including Splendor of the Church, Catholicism, Motherhood of the Church, and The Drama of Atheist Humanism.

Fr. Joseph Fessio, S.J., Editor of Ignatius Press, is available for interviews about this book. To request a review copy or an interview with Fr. Joseph Fessio, please contact: Rose Trabbic, Publicist, Ignatius Press at (239) 867-4180 or rose@ignatius.com

Product Facts:
Title: VATICAN COUNCIL NOTEBOOKS
Volume Two
Author: Henri Cardinal de Lubac
Release Date: October 2016
Length: 536 pages
Price: $29.95
ISBN: 978-1-62164-012-7 • Softcover
Order: 1-800-651-1531 • www.ignatius.com

VP Debate, Young Atheists, Former Atheists, Dying Republics, and New Tunes

VP Debate, Young Atheists, Former Atheists, Dying Republics, and New Tunes | Carl E. Olson | The Dispatch at CWR

A new and sparkling edition of "Carl's Cuts", the sporadic and always scattered collection of observations, opinions, and non-magisterial musings of the Editor of CWR

• If I see any more headlines about Kaine and "Able" or "Unable", I'm going to go dwell in the land of Nod.

• I didn't watch the Vice-Presidential debate last night—I took my horse-obsessed daughter shopping for some new spurs—but I gather that it featured a rapid-talking, smirking guy defending abortion while a far more sober, straight-arrow guy sat shaking his head and chastising the other for being played by an untrustworthy woman.

Correct me if I'm wrong, but didn't "Two and a Half Men" go off the air last year?

• Not to belabor what should be an obvious point, but when one's "deeply held" and "devout" faith is sacrificed on the gory altar of abortion, how deep and devout can your faith really be? Or, better, what is the ultimate source and highest summit for one's beliefs? If I say that I am "personally opposed" to adultery, but publicly support adultery (and perhaps even practice it on occasion), should I be considered a profound man of faith, or a complete cad and scoundrel? Or just a politician?

• But, of course, Gov. Kaine is called a "Pope Francis Catholic" and is lauded for his "argument" for the Church's inevitable acceptance of "gay marriage"—something impossible to accept since there is no "marriage" there—despite an embarrassing lack of knowledge about Scripture, logic, and other essentials.

• From the depressing to the divine. Or, first, the rejection of the divine. This past week, I happened to read three different texts that coalesced in a rather interesting way. The first was this letter by a Notre Dame student about how she lost her faith while at the University. The student, named Grace, wrote:

I thought a Catholic university would bring me closer to God, but the freedom of college is what originally made me turn away. Being on my own schedule meant that I could pick when I had to go to Mass, if I wanted to go at all. I no longer felt obligated to go, even though so many of my friends invited me to a dorm mass every Sunday. Instead, I spent my Sunday’s focusing on my classes, some of which made me question God in new ways.

One of the most influential classes I took my freshmen year was my “Foundations of Theology” class. The more I read about God, the less I believed in Him. I questioned why God would even care about humanity when there was so much more to the universe than us. Being at Notre Dame gave me the opportunity to really question the things I believed in. Notre Dame shaped my faith in an ironic way. By requiring that I study the Catholic Church, it has made me realize I do not truly believe in its beliefs or teachings.

It's curious, I think, that the one reason she gives for no longer believing in God is because she "questioned why God would even care about humanity when there was so much more to the universe than us." It's curious for several reasons, not least because it is hardly compelling at all and it has been address it many different ways. Which brings me to the second text, which is Fulton J. Sheen's 1931 book Old Errors and New Labels. Early on, in the chapter titled "Cosmic Intimidation", Sheen states:

The modern man is humble, not with the old humility which made a man doubt his power, but with the new humility makes a man doubt his humanity. The old humility was grounded on truth: man is what he really is. The new humility is grounded on insignificance: man is only a speck in the cosmos.

After recounting some of the many huge distances and incomprehensible numbers revealed by modern astronomy, Sheen notes that for some people these recent discoveries awaken "a greater understanding of the Majesty and the Power of God" while in "other minds they have developed an awe of the immensity of the cosmos ... which insists that man is nothing." After providing some examples of the latter, Sheen argues that "such cosmic intimidation is built upon, first, an ignorance of the imagery of greatness, and secondly, two false assumptions: namely, that greatness is value, and that man is considered great in the old cosmology because he lived presumably in the center of the universe."

The point, in part, is that making physical size the gauge of what is good or valuable is a reflexively materialist reaction, which puts quantity above quality when it comes to "greatness". This "cult of magnitude", writes Sheen,

Continue reading on the CWR site.

New: "Three Kings, Ten Mysteries: The Secrets of Christmas and Epiphany"

Now available from Ignatius Press:

Three Kings, Ten Mysteries: The Secrets of Christmas and Epiphany[image error]

Text by Grzegorz Gorny; photography by Janusz Rosikon

Hardcover, 170 pages.

Were the Three Kings, or Magi, who the Bible says traveled to Bethlehem in search of the Christ Child real, historical figures or simply the stuff of legend?

For generations, the Magi have inspired art and music. Epiphany, the important Christian feast twelve days after Christmas, is a national holiday in many countries throughout the world. What lies at the heart of this celebration and is it still relevant today?

Turning to discoveries made by historians, scientists, and theologians, Polish author Grzegorz Górny answers these questions. With gorgeous four-color photographs on every page, he traces the mysteries of the Magi from the Gospel of Matthew to modern-day astronomy to revived Epiphany celebrations on the streets of secularized European capitals.

Grzegorz Górny is a reporter, essayist, and film and television producer. He is the founder and editor-in-chief of the quarterly Fronda, and from 1994 to 2001 he co-authored a program under the same title that aired on the Polish national television. He has produced various documentary television series and authored numerous articles for European publications. His books include Battle for Madrid (2010).

Janusz Rosikon is a photographer and a member of the Association of Polish Artistic Photographers. His photographs have been featured in Time, Newsweek, and Reader's Digest.

FANFARE magazine Interviews Robert Reilly about the recovery of beautiful music in the 20th century

San Francisco, October 4, 2016 – Fanfare magazine recently interviewed Ignatius Press author Robert Reilly about his fascinating new book, Surprised by Beauty, which examines the recovery of beautiful modern music in the 20th century. This interview, conducted by Walter Simmons, is included in its entirety here:

FANFARE: Robert R. Reilly has pursued a most unusual career. He was the music critic for Crisis magazine for 16 years, and continues to review concerts and operas for Ionarts, an arts blog that covers the Washington, D.C. area and elsewhere. He has also written for such publications as High Fidelity, Musical America, and the American Record Guide. But, like most of us who write about classical music and are not on university faculties, he has earned his living in other fields. Reilly’s “day jobs” have included 25 years in American government. He served in the Office of the Secretary of Defense, and in the White House under President Ronald Reagan, as well as in the U.S. Information Agency. He was the director of Voice of America, and has published widely on foreign policy and “war of ideas” issues. He is the author of The Closing of the Muslim Mind and other books.

As a critic Reilly’s chief interest is the music of the 20th and 21st centuries, and that is the subject of his 2002 book Surprised by Beauty. Readers may not associate the word “beauty” with 20th- and 21st-century music, and that offers a clue to the unusual perspective presented in this book. Now Ignatius Press has just issued a much-expanded and updated edition of Surprised by Beauty, with additional material provided by Jens F. Laurson, a close associate of Reilly’s and a former contributor to Fanfare. Having been acquainted with Reilly’s thoughtful and perceptive writing for a number of years, I am pleased to have the opportunity to interview him. (In the interest of “full disclosure,” I should add that he has commented favorably in print on my work, although we have never met.)

I guess that my first question stems from my curiosity about your dual careers. I would think that working in government doesn’t put one in contact with many people who are as focused on the arts—and on classical music in particular—as you are. Are the people with whom you have worked aware of the musical side of your life? Have you found others who share your passion? (I once ran into Newt Gingrich in the men’s room during the intermission of a Washington production of Barber’s Vanessa, so I guess you’re not totally isolated.)

REILLY: (That’s very amusing, as I recently ran into Newt Gingrich and his wife at the Washington National Opera production of Götterdämmerung.)

Government and classical music are, as you indicate, often unrelated, if not antithetical to each other. I remember that, at Fort Lewis, it created some puzzlement in my armored cavalry unit when I went to hear Joan Sutherland sing Turandot at the Seattle Opera. Eyebrows were raised. However, sometimes music and government can be good partners. Early in the Reagan administration, from my U.S. Information Agency office, concert pianist John Robilette began the Artistic Ambassadors Program. The program was John’s inspiration, and he conducted it brilliantly for seven years. My principal contribution was to urge that a new piece of American music be composed for each artistic ambassador who went on tour for USIA. John and I spent hours in my home listening to records of American composers to select the commissions. The government wasn’t used to doing this kind of thing, or at least hadn’t been doing it for some years. So it was with some amusement that we sent composers such as George Rochberg, Morton Gould, or Lee Hoiby government purchase orders for “1 each, piano music, 10 minutes” or for other kinds of compositions. In any case, the program was very successful overseas and represented our country very well as one with a vibrant musical culture. There is now a significant collection of the manuscripts of all the works commissioned for this program at the Library of Congress. The program died, along with the heedless destruction of USIA, in 1999.

When I was the VOA director, I had the privilege of working with Robilette again. (By the way, Fanfare interviewed him around this time in its September/October 2001 issue—25:1.) I asked John to arrange a series of live recitals at the Voice of America’s beautiful auditorium in honor of the VOA 60th anniversary. These we recorded and broadcast all over the world. John attracted such notable artists as Byron Janis, the Jacques Thibaud String Trio, and tenor Robert White. They were given only token honoraria, as we had no real funding to do this. I should also mention that composer Steve Gerber, who became a dear personal friend, wrote the Fanfare for Voice of America that was premiered in the same auditorium. He later incorporated it into his Second Symphony. Steve was very excited that there was to be a separate chapter on his music in this edition of Surprised by Beauty. I was very grieved that he was taken by a virulent form of cancer last year and did not live to see it in print.

In any case, if the government has a functioning brain, it should harness classical music to help represent this country at its very best. Unfortunately, it has suffered from a bipartisan lobotomy. As I began my short tenure as VOA director, the Broadcasting Board of Governors, which exercises executive power over VOA, decided to eliminate our Arabic service, which was aimed at adults, and substitute for it a new all–pop youth music station with J Lo, Eminem, and Britney Spears. That was a very interesting thing to do in the middle of a war. And what a way to help win the war against the terrorists! Just keep those Arabs dancing. The condescension implicit in this approach was felt in the Middle East, as I know from my personal experiences there. Also, I might add, as I departed VOA for the Defense Department, the Board eliminated the concert series I had begun with Robilette, canceling the scheduled appearance of the Tokyo String Quartet. In another mindless act, though one taken earlier and not directly by the Board, Rich Kleinfeldt’s excellent classical music program on VOA was eliminated. (It is lucky for us in the Washington, D.C. area that Rich continues to broadcast on the WETA-FM classical station.)

One other anecdote, this one in a more lighthearted vein: I was meeting with conductor José Serebrier and his wife Carole as they were having lunch with the lady who was, at that time, the manager of the Washington National Opera. When she learned that I was at the Defense Department, she said that she knew Secretary Donald Rumsfeld, who was an opera aficionado, and asked exactly what I did at DOD. I answered, “I am his musical advisor.” I didn’t even personally know Rumsfeld, but at least it got a good laugh.

FANFARE: I know that one question that often arises in the minds of classical music aficionados with regard to critics with dual careers is: Does this person have any formal training in music? Care to comment?

REILLY: Outside of some piano lessons in grade school and some choir boy singing, I have not had formal training. My graduate studies were in political philosophy. Like George Bernard Shaw (with whom I would not compare myself in any other way), I have largely learned on the job, with the help of musician and composer friends, as well as a great deal of personal study. I hasten to add that that study went on for 15 years before I began to write about music. (I should add that I have been an avid Fanfare reader since vol. 1, no. 2.) I have been driven to put into words what I love or admire in what I hear—because I want to understand it and for others to listen and love it, as well. That’s how I see myself—as a music missionary more than as a critic.

As you know from having read the book, there is not a lot of technical language in it. Most of it should be accessible to the educated layman. In my many conversations with composers over the years, by the way, I found that they seldom speak in technical language. If anything, they are more likely to use metaphysical or philosophical language to get at what they are trying to express. The way they compose really is directed by their conceptions of reality. You can clearly see this in the composer interviews in the last part of the book.

Anyway, I don’t write for experts because I’m not one. I’m simply a lover who is trying to sing in words what really can only be sung in music. You yourself know how difficult this is, as you have done it so well in your books and reviews.

FANFARE: Thanks very much. Can you describe for us just how you became so interested in classical music—and of the past 100 years, in particular?

REILLY: I think I was about 19 years old when, quite by accident, I heard Leonard Bernstein’s recording of the Sibelius Fifth Symphony with the New York Philharmonic. I was seized by it. It changed my life. Sibelius famously said, “God opens His door for a moment and His orchestra plays the Fifth Symphony.” That is what I heard. It lifted me so far outside of myself, I was never the same afterward. I had not known human beings were capable of such things. Classical music immediately became my avocation. I bought a portable record player and would make friends sit down and listen to Sibelius. Had I only heard the Fifth Symphony earlier in my life, music would’ve become my vocation in some form. In any case, that started my rampage through the world of classical music.

Mozart was really my window onto every form of classical music. I hadn’t initially been attracted by opera until I listened to Mozart’s operas. The same is true of chamber music. I then began to listen to music of every genre and period. I found myself eventually gravitating to late 18th-/early 19th-century music, and to 20th-century music.

I was fascinated by 20th-century music not only because I found much of it immediately attractive, but also because it underwent such profound transformations and, in fact, at least partially, a derailment. Why would someone want their music to sound like a catastrophe in a boiler factory? I wanted to understand what was behind these transformations. I also wanted to know how some composers held up under the pressures of the avant-garde to continue their vocation of beauty. As you know, there were many of them—far too many to include in my book. I avidly followed what composers said about their music, read their books, and then sought some of them out to hear firsthand what they thought they were doing. Some composers contacted me after reading my reviews. It enriched my life incomparably that some of them became my friends.

FANFARE: Your book presents a rather unusual point of view, hinted at in your title, and it is one that I share to a large extent. I think that we both agree that music of the past 100 years is not uniformly ugly, atonal, or anti-musical; that there have been many composers who have pursued the traditional musical values of emotional and spiritual expression, seek to communicate those values to listeners, and have done so by drawing upon the formal processes that have served as the foundation of Western classical music for some 500 years. But the additional notion that you add, quite explicitly, is that the dissolution of tonality proclaimed by some composers coincided chronologically with the breakdown of religious faith, and that that correspondence is no accident. Would you agree with that summary of your central thesis?

REILLY: Yes, I would generally agree with that, except it is not simply my thesis but what many composers have told me, including those who do not consider themselves particularly religious. And I wouldn’t necessarily tie it to loss of a specific religious faith as I would to a loss of the transcendent, coupled with a metaphysical breakdown of the teleological order in nature. John Adams sensed this when he related that he had “learned in college that tonality died somewhere around the time that Nietzsche’s God died, and I believed it.”

Here is another way to put it. If there is a natural order to creation, you will be impelled to write a kind of music that reflects it. You will search for the “harmony of the spheres.” If there is no such order, there will be a different kind of music, if one can call it music at all when it reaches a certain point of disintegration. If there is no “harmony of the spheres” to approximate, you will most likely end up with some kind of organized or unorganized noise—in either case it will be arbitrary. I am alluding here, of course, to the centrifugal forces unleashed by Arnold Schoenberg, who held that tonality does not exist in nature and, therefore, we can be habituated to hear dissonance as consonance. However, as Aristotle observed, no matter how many times you throw a stone in the air, you cannot habituate it to fly upwards. It will always drop down. Likewise, Schoenberg’s system neither achieved the supremacy of German music for another century, as he claimed it would, nor succeeded in habituating us to dissonance. The reason is because there actually is a natural order to things, and tonality exists as a kind of natural law in the world of sound.

Some music critics have gotten quite upset because of what I have said about Schoenberg’s serial system. They insist that it’s just another technique, like any other technique. That’s certainly not how Schoenberg thought of it. My criticism of Schoenberg is more against his faulty metaphysics than it is of his music. Of course, the one reflects the other—that is my point.

Throughout the 20th century and today, there has been and is a broad range of composers attesting to the connection between the spiritual and the musical. Sibelius—not what you would call a traditional believer—said that, “The essence of man’s being is his striving after God.” Therefore, composition, according to him, “is brought to life by means of the Logos, the divine in art. That is the only thing that really has significance.”

I know some composers who have left the faith to which they once belonged or even to which they at one time converted, but who nonetheless retain a very deep sense of the spiritual and the transcendent. Scottish composer James MacMillan recently said, “In spite of the retreat of faith in Western society, composers over the last century or so have never given up on their search for the sacred.” So my thesis is not sectarian in a religious sense, though as a Catholic I am very much aware of the musical treasures that Christianity has inspired, including, say, MacMillan’s Seven Last Words.

FANFARE: Now let’s talk for a moment about the word “beauty,” because of its importance in your title, and because it can mean different things to different people. For example, I think that for many people “beauty” is used to describe the sort of warm, slightly poignant serenity exemplified by, say, the second movement of Barber’s Violin Concerto. Others think in terms of Keats’s line, “Truth is beauty, beauty truth,” which opens the word to a wider interpretation. I’m inclined to reserve the word for the Barber sort of expression, but I consider other qualities in music equally valid, in the Keats sense; I just don’t use the word “beauty” for them. I think of the highest musical values as authenticity and depth of emotional and often spiritual expression, as articulated through meticulous craftsmanship. I think of this as a broader concept than “beauty,” which may, of course, be one manifestation of such expression. Can you speak more about what the term “beauty” means to you?

REILLY: I understand the distinction you’re making, but I would take the word beauty farther in the Keats sense. I’ve always liked Dostoyevsky’s statement that “Beauty will save the world.” In other words, beauty is in some way salvific. In this sense, beauty means more than the second movement of the Barber Concerto. Beauty can pierce; it can slay; it can upset the soul and engender wild longings. It provokes wonder. It can also, in a way, redeem. The great German theologian Josef Pieper spoke of the “recollecting power of the fine arts, for the emotional shock brought about by eros and caritas—in short, through the attitude rooted in the mysterious experience that Plato called theia mania.” Plato knew that all beauty is reflected beauty and that beauty is a sign of, and a path to, ultimate goodness.

I think that’s what George Rochberg was after when he told me, “I have re-embraced the art of beauty, but with a madness.” He said, “But what do I mean by what is beautiful? I mean that which is genuinely expressive, even if it hurts….I know that what is really beautiful hurts.” Then he exclaimed, “Music remains what it has always been: a sign that man is capable of transcending the limits and constraints of his material existence.”

I think music was derailed in the 20th century when it lost this sense of beauty as its mission. The loss of vocation is powerfully reflected in Schoenberg’s statement that he was “cured of the delusion that the artist’s aim is to create beauty.” One can imagine how Dostoyevsky or Plato would’ve reacted to that remark.

FANFARE: It’s clear that a religious or spiritual core is very important in your understanding of a composer’s work, and when it’s relevant in the case of a particular composer it becomes your central focus. Yet there are some composers whom you have highlighted whose music—from my standpoint—has no particular connection to spiritual concerns at all. The most striking example to me—without making a qualitative judgment of my own—is Morton Gould. Can you comment on that?

REILLY: The highest vocation of any art is to make the transcendent perceptible, and I think music is uniquely suited to this hieratic goal. As the great Swiss mystic Max Picard said, “In sound itself, there is a readiness to be ordered by the spirit, and this is seen at its most sublime in music.”

But not all music has to be sublime. Not everyone has to be at the top of Mount Parnassus—there are ascending slopes or steps. Mozart reached the heights, but he also wrote wonderful divertimenti for entertainment on social occasions. Dvořák composed most of his music in the kitchen, and its great warmth and domesticity reflect this. In music, the good is not the enemy of the great. If all we listened to was Sibelius’s Fifth Symphony, Bruckner’s Eighth, Mahler’s Second, and Nielsen’s Fourth, etc., we would probably suffer from acute altitude sickness.

Morton Gould was certainly a very good composer who mastered a number of colloquial musical styles. He had great fun with them, which is why it is such fun to listen to him. In terms of my general theme, I think Gould clearly demonstrated that tonality was not exhausted. He worked within the traditional tonal frames of reference, and produced works that still sound fresh. In some of his compositions, I think he also caught that sense of yearning in the American soul. He clearly had an appetite for beauty. I think it’s a big mistake to condescend to composers writing his kind of music. That’s why he and others of his kind are in the book.

FANFARE: I suppose it is inevitable that I would find some of the composers you highlight less worthy of attention than others who would seem to illustrate your thesis through music of the highest caliber, yet are not included by you. I am thinking, for example, of Daniel Catan, Joly Braga Santos, Nicolas Flagello, Andrzej Panufnik, Arnold Rosner, Lee Hoiby, Samuel Jones, and Alan Hovhaness, who seem conspicuous by their absence. I’m especially surprised by the omission of Peter Mennin, as his approach to musical composition shared so much in common with that of Edmund Rubbra and Vagn Holmboe, both of whom you treat with great respect and understanding.

REILLY: You have touched a sore spot. My publisher was panicking at the size of the book, which is slightly more than 500 pages as it is, and unfortunately I had to cut 28 composers out of it, including a number of those you mention. Taking them out was heartbreaking. If all the Fanfare subscribers will buy the book, perhaps then I can persuade the publisher to bring out a new edition that would include everyone you mention, plus the others who ended up on the cutting room floor—like Havergal Brian, William Alwyn, Boris Tchaikovsky, Paul Juon, Harold Shapero, Joseph Jongen, etc. As for Mennin, I am not sure I would have the nerve to write anything after the brilliant job you did concerning his music in your book Voices of Stone and Steel.

FANFARE: Thank you for such kind words. I hope to be worthy of them.

This article originally appeared in Issue 40:2 (Nov/Dec 2016) of Fanfare Magazine.
 
Robert Reilly, the author of Surprised by Beauty, is available for interviews about this book. To request a review copy or an interview with Robert Reilly, please contact: Rose Trabbic, Publicist, Ignatius Press at (239) 867-4180 or rose@ignatius.com

New: "Night's Bright Darkness: A Modern Conversion Story" by Sally Read

Now available from Ignatius Press:

Night's Bright Darkness: A Modern Conversion Story

by Sally Read

Hardcover, 147 pages

A beautifully written story about a British poet's conversion from staunch atheism to devout Catholicism, all in the space of nine electric months. In Spring of 2010 Sally Read was heralded as one of the bright young writers of the British poetry scene. Feminist, atheist and deeply anti-Catholic, she was writing a book about women's reproduction and sexuality when, during her research, she spoke with a Catholic priest. That mysterious encounter led Sally on a dramatic journey of spiritual quest and discovery which ended up at the Vatican itself, where she was received into the Catholic Church in December of that year.

This story of her conversion is one that, unsurprisingly, has the vivid flavor and beauty of poetry. Read relates her encounters with the Father, the Spirit and then the Son, exactly in the way they were given to her—timely, revelatory and compelling. These transforming events throw new light onto the experiences of her past—her father's death, her work as a psychiatric nurse, her life as a single woman in London, as a mother and as a writer. She reveals how she developed a close intimacy with the new love that erupted into her life, Christ himself, and how she comes to accept and embrace a doctrine she had previously rejected as bigoted and stifling.

Read confronts head on the burning question for God that every true Christian harbors: "What do you want me to do?" In an age of increasing secularism, and in the wake of disillusionment with the Catholic Church following disclosures of abuse, the book takes us to the core of what the Church is all about: Christ and the yearning to be near him.

Read's book captures the ecstasy of first knowing God's love and charts how it changes us. It takes the massive energy that was given her during those nine initial months of conversion and crystallizes it so others can taste it. It is a testimony to the powerhouse of Christianity: love and the life-changing encounter with Christ.

Sally Read is the author of three books of poetry published by Bloodaxe Books. She has an MA in Creative Writing from the University of South Dakota. Sally is poet in residence of the Hermitage of the Three Holy Hierarchs, and lives near Rome. She is a fellow of the Institute of Creative and Critical Writing at Birmingham City University, UK.

"Permeated with brutal honesty and deep love, this is a profoundly moving spiritual autobiography of a born and bred atheist who converted to the Catholic Faith; a faith which she states is 'the only solution to the human condition.' Certain to be thought provoking and edifying for skeptics and convinced Catholics alike."
— Roy Schoeman, Author, Salvation Is From the Jews

"Sally Read's story is the best and liveliest account of a conversion for a generation. It is a story of divine grace as moving and unexpected as it is luminous and profound. There is not a wasted brush-stroke, not a blurred line. It is an absorbing story, a tale that will grip readers all the way through to the end."
—Paul Murray, OP, Angelicum University; Author, T.S. Eliot and Mysticism

"Warning: Don't start reading this book unless you intend to finish it. I started the first page, and was completely captured until the end. Not only is Sally Read's story gripping, but the words flow and permeate like the early morning sunbeams over a pleasant misty valley. An engrossing story of joyful discoveries for a modern world."
—Steven K. Ray, Author, Crossing the Tiber

"Sally Read brings to her memoir a poet's sensitivity to language, imagery, and emotion. Her vivid, evocative scenes of life in Rome, London, and elsewhere help to show that conversion involves the whole of a person: intellect, emotions, relationships. This well-written account will be of interest to skeptics and believers alike."
—Holly Ordway, Ph.D., Author, Not God's Type

"Every story of conversion has the potential of conceiving another. Each give's witness to the work of grace. In this brilliantly written, candid, sometimes shocking unveiling by Sally Read, we see vividly the fingerprints of the Holy Spirit on a heart once impenetrably hard and shut off, but then opened and reborn by the merciful joy of our Triune God.
—Marcus Grodi, EWTN Host, The Journey Home

"When a poet meets God, beauty becomes incarnate. Sally Read's conversion story reads like a modern Song of Songs - unflinching, gripping and enchanting."
—Marie Cabaud Meaney, Author, Embracing the Cross of Infertility

"It has been said that the greatest love story is that of a soul who falls in love with God. Sally Read's conversion dramatically story proves that theory. Her story will make you appreciate your own faith and love for Christ and his Church."
—Terry Barber, Author, How to Share Your Faith with Anyone

"On the fiftieth anniversary of Vatican II, what are the positive and negative results of this Council?"

 

Questions Answered | Fr. Brian Mullady, OP | Homiletic & Pastoral Review

Question: On the fiftieth anniversary of Vatican II, what are the positive and negative results of this Council?

Answer: The Second Vatican Council is the watershed event of the Catholic Church in the 20th Century. Though 50 years have passed since it was concluded, the optimistic fruit of this Council, which John XXIII had in mind when calling it, have yet to be fully realized. John XXIII stated that the text: “This is the will of God, your sanctification” (1 Th 4:3) should be written over the doors of the Council. John Paul II, who wrote a study of the document on the Church, immediately on his return after the Council, instructed his diocese that it was clear that the purpose of the Council was to answer the question: “Ecclesia, quid dicis de teipsa (“Church, what do you have to say for yourself?”) Academic reflection on the nature of this Council has termed it: “The Council of the Church.” The answer was that the Church is a mystery, which is the Greek term for “sacrament” and means “a physical sign joining us to eternity.” This fact is clear in the document on the Church which quotes an ancient Father of the Church, St. Cyprian:

The Church is seen to be “a people brought into unity from the unity of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit.” (Lumen Gentium, 4)

The hope was that a vigorous and sober examination of the means used by the Church to proclaim the Gospel would lead to a deeper and more spiritual appreciation of the Church as an institution which transcended time and space. This appreciation would, in turn, initiate a flowering of spiritual life for the laity responding to grace.

John XXIII basically regarded the Council as the prolongation of the First Vatican Council, which was never formally closed because of the political situation in Europe. In fact, the bishops had meant to discuss 50 schema, which included the topics dealt with by Vatican II in 1870, and they only discussed two. John XXIII wanted these other topics examined with very specific goals in mind. They were:

Continue reading at HPRweb.com.

Politics and the inherent dilemmas of “liberal democracy”

(Image: us.fotolia.com/alexskopje)

Politics and the inherent dilemmas of “liberal democracy” | Brian Jones | The Dispatch at CWR

Instead of the primacy of the contemplative order, modernity elevates the practical order to be supreme. With this abandonment of “being,” it is action that becomes man’s fundamental earthly endeavor.

Aristotle stated in his Politics that one of the most necessary, yet dangerous, political and intellectual tasks was to say precisely what a political regime is. In other words, the health of a community and culture presupposes the capability to describe and understand what it is ultimately about.

We can perceive, hopefully, why such a task might be dangerous, especially in a culture such as our own. Our present political regime is often characterized, or identified, as a “liberal democracy”. However, I do not think it is far-fetched to say this is not entirely accurate. While it is true that our institutional structures, and our voting and electing tendencies could be labeled as “democratic,” it seems more true that our anthropological and philosophical orientations are predominantly those of liberalism.

I raise these initial points in light of a recent essay by Professor Francis Beckwith over at The Catholic Thing titled “Rock-Ribbed vs. Faint-Hearted Liberalism”. My aim is not to critique Dr. Beckwth’s ideas as presented in his thought-provoking essay; rather, I want look at liberalism through the lens of intellectual history and political philosophy. In order to understand liberalism, we must be able to see it in connection with modernity, or with what Leo Strauss calls “the modern project”.  I want to simply highlight what I consider to be two of the fundamental principles of modernity and liberalism, both of which have a number of wide-ranging and destructive effects.

In his classic 1963 work, The Structure of Political Thought, Charles N. R. McCoy made the following observation about the beginning of modernity—an observation that is also essentially linked with liberalism:

Continue reading on "The Dispatch" at CWR.

New: "Vatican Council Notebooks: Volume Two" by Henri de Lubac

Now available from Ignatius Press:

Vatican Council Notebooks: Volume Two

by Henri de Lubac

"Surprising news!" With these words, Fr. Henri de Lubac,S.J., whose orthodoxy had been so vigorously attacked, responded to the announcement of his selection to participate in the 2nd Vatican Council. His participation as a theologian and expert would make a lasting impact on the Council, and his insights and comments are recorded in these long-awaited volumes.

This is the second Volume of De Lubac's Notebooks, which trace the two years of preparation, the four conciliar sessions, and the three periods between sessions. The eminent theologian de Lubac is a sure guide for the reader, introducing us to the theological ferment of the Council and helping us to grasp what was at stake in the often animated debates.

De Lubac does not hesitate to express clearly what he thinks of the theologians around him, of the new concepts appearing because of the Council, or of the problems he judges to be most serious for the Christian faith. These Notebooks invite us to a greater historical and theological understanding of the Council.

Besides information about the numerous aspects of the conciliar assembly, what makes the testimony of these notebooks so captivating is the strongly rendered presence of men and their psychology. De Lubac excels in sketching the portrait of the participants with only a few words. Among the many interesting encounters, he tells of deepening his acquaintance with Josef Ratzinger, whom he describes as a "theologian as peaceable and kindly as he is competent". In the same way, during the long discussion over the drafting of the constitution Gaudium et Spes, he observed the assertiveness of Karol Wojtyla, whose interventions struck him because of the seriousness, the rigor, and the solidity of his faith, which created in him a lively sense of spiritual friendship, which was reciprocated.

Henri de Lubac, S. J., was considered as one of the most important theologians of the twentieth century. Together with the works of other towering modern theologians (and friends) Joseph Ratzinger (Pope Benedict XVI) and Hans Urs von Balthasar, the writings of de Lubac stand out as crucial to twentieth-century Catholicism. Among his other famous books are Catholicism: Christ and the Common Destiny of Man, The Splendor of the Church, The Christian Faith, The Drama of Atheist Humanism, and The Motherhood of the Church.

"Fr. de Lubac has a historian's keen eye as well as a theologian's familiarity with the issues. As a participant at the Council, his notes describe what really happened in the corridors and trattoria at Vatican II."
—Fr. Joseph Fessio, S.J., Editor, Ignatius Press

"These Notebooks bear witness to the difficulties Fr. de Lubac experienced in the years following the publication of Surnaturel (Supernatural,1946), very much in evidence within the Theological Commission, in the preparatory period during which the theologian, just recently named to the commission by John XXIII, was confronted with future conciliar schemas prepared by his adversaries. Nevertheless, it was his theology that prevailed in Lumen Gentium and also in Dei Verbum."
—Jacques Prevotat, Professor of Modern History, University of Lille-III, From the Preface