Guerilla Chant

It all started innocently enough. My good friend and daughter’s piano teacher and I often run in to each other while waiting for the kids to get out of school. What is nice about our chats is that the Maestro and I have found how very much we have in common. He is a professional church musician (and an accomplished one at that) and I am a music lover. We share a love for the Church and have chatted at length about Church history and current events. Barbeque, distilled spirits and fine cigars traditionally round out our exchange. The list grows each time we steal those fifteen minutes from work and family obligations to just enjoy some idle time bantering about our passions.

One afternoon not too long ago I was lamenting the absence of the TLM in our diocese. While the Mass is offered in our Diocese it is only available in one rather distant location. The probability of making that trek on a routine basis is unlikely in the face of the realities of space and time. Thus I confessed I am a burgeoning yet frustrated “wanna be” Traditionalist Roman Catholic.

The Maestro too confessed his frustration at not being able to explore this rich liturgical heritage. Being bound to his schedule as the Director of Music at his Parish the possibility of his slinking away to join me in my quest was equally unlikely. It was at this point it happened. Like a member of the Underground cautiously giving a password to one who he hopes is a confederate and not a member of the secret police he told me about a project he was working on, a men’s schola. Did I really hear him say that? Gregorian chant here? In liturgical tambourine land? I kept my composure and with a soft conspiratorial yet guttural response encouraged him to continue.

Through some magic he convinced his Pastor to allow the inclusion of this most precious part of our liturgical heritage as a small part of the Masses for Advent and Christmas. While it will still be a Novus Ordo Mass the customary sights and sounds of worship will be edged aside to include both the Introit and Communio. In excited and suitably hushed tones he shared the location and secret meeting time with me and we hurriedly separated amongst the crowd of dispersing school children and unsuspecting parents.

Thus not long after we met on a sunny fall afternoon in a location that for security reasons will have to remain undisclosed. I then was introduced to our co conspirators. Naturally we used pseudonyms in case our activities were compromised. There in our secret lair we plotted. The Delivery Man, Mr. Curie, The Student and of course the Dirty Copper listened attentively as The Maestro lay out our plan.

What a joyful undertaking! Often in the privacy of my thoughts I am saddened at the thought that there are so few of us out there, those who yearn for liturgical tradition, a tradition of which we were deprived. Yet here we all were. Despite having no direct experience or exposure to its graces, we collectively possess imbued knowledge that it is right and proper, a direct lineage to the time of the earliest Christians. A treasured gift of continuity, the uninterrupted path to the prize of our faith.

So there we plotted, and chanted with grateful souls. I know not where this path will lead us. Yet I know that it is right. It is comfortable. It inspires me to grace. Whether our venture will succeed is yet to be determined. With God’s grace and the efforts of like minded cells of conspirators, perhaps we will be part of the surge behind the Great Liturgical Reformation. Brick by Brick.