Thursday, February 1, 2018

"The Hope of the Church Is in This Room"

Not just once, but twice during my career in ritual music, I had the distinct pleasure of being in the presence of Lucien Deiss, CSSp – composer, biblical scholar, and liturgical pioneer.  Years ago, I actually had the opportunity to co-present with him at an NPM conference.  Then, in the early years of the Liturgical Composers Forum, Fr. Deiss was present amongst his ritual music-writing colleagues.  It was the last time I would be in his company.
Lucien Deiss, CSSp

In those early years following the Second Vatican Council, Deiss had a unique perspective: he saw what was taking place in the American Catholic Church, but he saw it from a European perspective.  And he observed our ecclesial activity through many lenses: as a priest, as a composer, as a liturgical theologian, as a lover of the faith.

The year he attended the Liturgical Composers Forum, he made a rather humbling observation.  Looking out at the musicians who had gathered together in Saint Louis, he said "The hope of the Church is in this room."  He spoke of how we often complain about how things are not done properly in our ecclesial labours, and how frustrating, at times, that could be.  But he was convinced that the Holy Spirit was at work in the American Catholic Church, and took comfort in the hope afforded by those stirrings.

With John Foley, S.J.
This past week, I had the unabashed joy of once again attending the Liturgical Composers Forum.  Created, in part, by the inspiring vision of John Foley, S.J. and now twenty years young, the forum quickly became a harbour of creativity and spiritual renewal; it afforded a place to hone our craft, listen to world class theologians (e.g., Walter Brueggemann), composers (e.g. Alice Parker), lyricists (e.g. Brian Wren), and spiritual guides (e.g. Ronald Rolheiser).

With Jaime Cortez and
ValLimar Jansen
It also gave us the opportunity, as a community of composers, to accept constructive commentary on our own writing, and move even deeper into the mystery of putting a pen to the blank page.

Twenty years later, the week has also become the launchpad for lasting friendships and musical collaborations.  Several of my own compositions  – Lead, Kindly Light and Make of Our Hands a Throne – were first brought to this trusted circle of artists.  And at least one piece – ¡Escucha! Put It in Your Heart! – came about because of my collaboration with Jaime Cortez, someone who's becoming a dear and trusted friend. Part retreat, part common prayer, part musicians' guild, the gathering has gone on to welcome more and more composers throughout the land.

The 2018 Liturgical Composers Forum in St. Louis, MO
All of this came from the creative mind of that gentle, conscientious and joyful servant of the Society of Jesus, John Foley.  How was I to know what was to happen as college freshman back in Vermont, when I got my hands on that hunk of vinyl entitled Earthen Vessels?  That album, and subsequent others, paved the way for this man to become a friend and a colleague, someone who would show through his very example what it meant to serve a church in need of inspiration.  My story is not unlike others who got swept up in the fervour of providing sacred song for a Post-Vatican II liturgy.

Last week, nearly seventy composers gathered in Saint Louis for the twentieth gathering of the Liturgical Composers Forum.  Their own creative works embrace genres that span the entire spectrum of musical style: chant, folk, Hispanic, bilingual, African-American, contemporary – and happily, all the shades in between that playfully defy classification.

Pére Deiss was right, and I experienced it again this year when I first walked into the midst of this joyful conspiracy: the hope of the church was indeed in the room once more.  Ad multos annos, my Composer colleagues!