The Byzantine pace
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Throughout Lent, we change the hymns we sing after the Gospel reading in Orthros. At other times of the year, we ask for the prayers of the apostles and the Theotokos at that point, asking their help to reflect on the Gospel reading, asking for strength to continue to make our slow way to the Lord’s Table. During Lent, we don’t dare to ask without reminding ourselves of our fallenness, our great need.
Open to me the doors of repentance, O Life-giver; for my soul goeth early to the temple of thy holiness, coming in the temple of my body, wholly polluted. But because thou art compassionate, purify me by the compassion of thy mercies.
Here is a version from the album “Gates of Repentance” by Fr. Apostolos Hill, for those who haven’t had a chance to hear it:
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There is so much longing in these hymns, so much of the true sense of what it is to be the prodigal son who has come to his senses. To me, this is a little of the voice of the Lenten wanderer.
These are hymns that would melt a heart of stone. The great difficulty for a convert coming from the traditions of Western music is in being able to sing them. Because there is a different relationship with time than we’re used to. These aren’t SONGS, they’re stories that don’t end.
I remember hearing a news feature on the radio about the kind of music that people listen to in the car. It said that though the relentless beats of hip-hop, metal and hard rock don’t promote even-tempered driving, classical music isn’t much better. Although we don’t tend to notice it that much these days when classical is regarded as the enlightened choice for all occasions, the fact is that classical music goes through an absolute arc from whisper-soft to crashing crescendos and back again. It tells a story with a beginning, a middle and an end. And as the pulse of the music goes, we go as well, whether we want to or not. Our heartbeat goes up, our whole nervous system gets in on the act. That’s what began happening as soon as the culture began crying for music for the sake of music. It is much more engaging, more exciting than the endless Catholic masses that had preceded it and the Renaissance madrigals that were the first tentative departures from functional music. It’s the difference between liturgical music that is a means to an end and secular music that is an end in itself.
This is the music that goes on and on. It is just a part of the service, it serves only to carry the action from the people back to the clergy, to continue our part of the ongoing dialogue of the liturgy. We have that phrase — “antiphonal music” — to describe a hymn where one singer or group sings back and forth with another, but really the entire liturgy is antiphonal. It’s all a dialogue — the priest says and we reply; we ask blessing and the priest gives it.
This is what this music is doing. It is carrying its part of the whole. The thing that’s a little strange about listening to Orthodox hymns by themselves is that though the words sometimes give you a lot to think about, the music doesn’t do what secular music does. These are cart-horses without the cart. It’s something I always remember when we’re inclined to put too much emphasis on Orthodox music as an evangelical tool. These stylings are exotic, to be sure, and they’re totally unusual. But I’d hate to see us merely ride that brief current of being a novelty to Western ears and never remember that the music doesn’t make that much sense out of its context.
But in its context … oh my. That capacity of this style of music to fill your heart is almost more than you can bear sometimes. May the good Lord give us ears always to hear this. In this noisy world, these hymns remind me of something I read once: “Apart from silence, that which expresses God most nearly is music.”
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For the longest time I thought that Fr. Apostolos was Fr. Peter Jon Gilquist. They sound so similar to me and Fr. Apostolos chants on one of Fr. Peter the II’s cds and I always thought it was Fr. Peter singing.
I love that hymn it’s gorgeous. Our choir director (Yumi Larsen) does an AMAZING job singing it.
I have to admit, just as you said there is a reason that Orthodox music is “set apart” from regular praise/rock music. It changes your mindset when being in church. It’s so peaceful to listen to and it gives a special sound to church. I don’t think I’ve ever found chant to be annoying.
Btw, thanks for that awesome quote at the end. Where did you read that?
Quote: Argh! I can’t find it. I was sure I read it quoted in a book called “Beginning to Read the Fathers” but I couldn’t find it yesterday when I went looking. Oh well.
Grace:
Beautiful. Thanks for this post. If I might add a bit, I’d say that this music is distinguished in the sense of being more than music and sung more as a prayer. The rhythm and pacing match a measured, restful.. and yet energetic yearning as you say. There are times that I think music and the arts are more fully understood than our worship… so in many ways allow us by analogy and by metaphor to better understand prayer… a thing far less frequently discussed in the wider culture.
Fr. Apostolos is great. I guess I’ll have to get one of his CD’s for my car. Yes… I’m one of those whackos who listen to this stuff in the car. It is calming.… and as an Orthodox newby… it’s sort of my inculturation experience. Like to think it makes the Guardian Angel in the passenger seat smile.
Restful, yet energetic — that sounds incongruous, but anybody that has heard much Orthodox music knows exactly what you mean.
I can identify three things that make Byzantine chant hard for me, coming in as a Westernized convert:
The pacing, which I went into here
The energy! The link above is a perfect example. You have to be at peace, but not at rest. You have to be totally alert, but not communicate any tension or restlessness into the music.
The lack of egoism. This is more easily said than done. When you chant “I come to the temple wholly polluted” you can’t make it sound totally personal (any more than you can make a dramatic reading out of Psalm 51), but you do (IMHO) have to let the words in — if you want others to hear the words then you have to hear them yourself.
Worship, music and the arts — I’d love to hear you develop up that idea more. If you blog it, let me know.