Haec Dies in Old Roman and Gregorian Chant

I suppose there's something about being a man that relishes in comparison. When I study plants, comparison is pretty much all I'm doing. Taxonomy can be thought of as comparison elevated to a science.

Today, I'm relishing in the comparison of the Easter chant Haec dies, in both the Gregorian style and the reconstructed Old Roman style. Gregorian Chant is really a medieval synthesis of various early Christian chant lineages, including Gallican and Old Roman. Gregorian Chant, as we have it today, is largely due to the revival and restoration efforts of the Solesmes Benedictines in the 19th Century.

There have been more modern efforts, however, to restore Old Roman chant, a chant lineage pre-dating Gregorian Chant. The group Ensemble Organum has made some attempts and released a few albums.

So, for comparison, is more or less the same chant: Haec dies, and one can hear how they are related, although the Old Roman version sounds, to me, more Byzantine, esoteric, mystical, while the Gregorian sounds more austere, simple, tranquil.

I really love the Gregorian; in its sobriety lies its beauty, and from there ascends to ecstasy.

Here's the Gregorian:

And here's the Old Roman:

And here's the translation:

This is the day which the Lord hath made: 

let us be glad and rejoice therein. 

Alleluia.

verse for Easter Sunday:

Give praise to the Lord, for he is good: 

for his mercy endureth for ever. (Psalm 118:1)

[Christ our Passover was sacrificed for us.]

verse for Easter Monday:

Let Israel now say, that he is good: 

that his mercy endureth for ever. (Psalm 118:2)

verse for Easter Tuesday:

Let them say so that have been redeemed by the Lord,

whom he hath redeemed from the hand of the enemy: 

and gathered out of the countries. 

(Psalm 107:2)

Resurrexi

I am risen, and I am always with you, alleluia; you have placed your hand upon me, alleluia; your wisdom has been shown to be most wonderful, alleluia, alleluia. O Lord, you have searched me and known me; you know when I sit down and when I rise up. 

Carthusian Matins

Here's a video of Carthusians praying Matins (Office of Vigils).

I love a comment someone left there:

In the 1970's I was friends with a beautiful young man who one day told me he was entering the Carthusian Monastery in Grenoble - France. I never heard from him again. I sometimes close my eyes and imagine him there, what his life is like! In silence! He told me he was going to pray for me all of his life! Well, today I can see what his life can be like! And I am certain he is praying for all of us!

I can't imagine this hidden life of silence, unknown to all but God Himself, and reserved only for Him. Makes me want to watch Into Great Silence again.

Missa cantata in Troy

There is a most beautiful Gregorian chant, the introit for the fourth Sunday of Advent: Rorate caeli, which I heard at an Extraordinary Form Latin Mass yesterday in Troy.

After the 7:45 Mass in Auburn, at which the Schola chanted this in English, I had the desire to go to the Latin Mass also, even though I was on four hours of sleep after my friends' wedding the night before. We took the back way down to Troy, a way I'd never been before, through Tuskegee and Union Springs and a number of other small Black Belt towns (one called Smuteye). The ride was gorgeous, with little traffic, and many tall pines and grassy fields. The distance is shorter and we got to see the old, run-down plantation houses. I'm glad we didn't take I-85.

The Latin Mass was at St. Martin of Tours in Troy, celebrated by Fr. Irwin. The choir was almost as large as the congregation, and they sang all of the Gregorian propers for the Mass. It was a Missa cantata, a low Mass but with the readings and prayers chanted by the priest and the choir. We sat in the front pew, since my friend said he didn't like the other Latin Mass he had been to where he couldn't hear anything. The rest of the congregation, except for a family next to us, sat in the back two pews. There was an entire empty church between them and us, they at the back wall and we right behind the priest and servers. My friend said he loved this Mass, especially following along in the St. Edmund Campion Missal, which were provided in the church. It was easier to follow Fr. Irwin than many priests, because he spoke and sung the Latin slowly and carefully.

I was thinking, later, how that form of the Mass could enrich the Mass of Paul VI. There was something a little unsettling about it. It is much quieter, for one, and it takes its own sweet time, without regard for what the clock says. I'm not in control and I don't know entirely what's going on at the traditional Mass, even following in the missal, and this is intentional. Many parts are hidden from view or veiled in silence. And then, from the midst of the silent anticipation, the Son of God appears, elevated in the hands of the priest, and we are kneeling to worship Him. This is a key element of the lay participation in the older Mass: waiting, watching, trusting; being ready to receive and follow. Even the priest is not in control; he is not free to be himself and do things his way. He puts off his self and takes on the persona Christi in a very tangible way. This is not an attitude very popular in our time. We'd rather be in the know, have a sense of control and ownership, have things now. I might say that the traditional Mass appeals to Marys, and the new Mass appeals to Marthas.

Veni, Veni Emmanuel

In my opinion, one of the best YouTube music performance videos. I posted it on Under My Roof way back in the day. Time to pay it homage here. This is the Veni Emmanuel as found in the 1940 Hymnal of the Protestant Episcopal Church, but ultimately taken from the medieval plainchant. Played on clavichord by George Becker.