When in Rome: Music

If Dante had been a musician instead of a poet… he might have composed something for his Inferno similar to what I have been hearing all month. Truly, God listens to the heart and not the voice! We had an excellent organist, and she had only a small synthesizer to play. She worked wonders, but it was not enough. About ten distinct notes sounded among the assembly, and the better known and loved the hymn was, the more variations there were on the melody, and the more notes vying to be chosen as the proper tone. And we sang a lot. Morning prayer and vespers, Mass and adoration—a minimum of three pieces of music every time, every day. The psalms were sung to very simple lines. One day, I noticed that there was a peculiar kind of harmonic rendering of the psalm tone: three (at least) tones, following an approximation of the melodic line. It would have been impossible for a professional choir to replicate the sound. For one, the top line of the chord was about a quarter-tone flat. (The “organ,” mind you, was still playing.) Then there was another line about a half-step below the flat tone, and beneath that, a bass line not quite a half-tone below that. These three tones continued, up and down in imitation of the line of the psalm tone, and I am sure each singer believed they were carrying the melodic line. One of the sounds may have even been a 3/8ths tone. It was hard to believe it could really happen.

Every time I heard the sister in charge announce a hymn number, I would cringe. I hope it wasn’t too distracting to the celebrant. (I was in the front pew!)

As you can imagine, this constituted my major distraction throughout the retreat. I kept trying to match my tone to the brave little organ, but I really could hardly hear myself—especially when it was a popular song. One spiritual application was the realization that God is also continuing to play his melody for me, and I need to be quiet enough to hear it so I can tune to him…