When church music lost its norms, one single principle took over their place: whether it appeals to the people (or rather: whether the leaders suppose it will appeal to them). The new principle could not but lead to the invasion of more and more inferior fashions into the Church, finding justification in each case in “taste.” Moreover, the sort of human being who is now considered the measure of music is not a man destined for greatness and called to spiritual qualities; no, he is the marketable man, homo oeconomicus, subjected to any manipulation. I think that nobody gave serious thought to the shortsighted nature of this principle with respect to pastoral tasks, either.
How can the Church ask to be accented in her teaching if she makes her liturgical action relativistic? How can she avoid creating the impression that if the liturgy and church music can be adapted to different tastes, then also matters of faith and morals could now be submitted to the opinion of individuals or to the different social and psychological requirements of our age? This appeal to “different tastes” forgets how people (especially children and youth) entering the church are open and thirsty for all the good they will learn there. “When the [Church] offers her own genuine goods with motherly tenderness, people naturally accept them because they come from the Church they love and respect. Eventually the goods thus absorbed and appropriated become highly formative of their opinions, tastes, preferences, customs, and in fact, their entire life.” As we read in St. Augustine’s Office: “Cibus sum grandium, cresce et manducabis me, nec tu me mutabis in te, sicut cibum carnis tuae, sed tu mutaberis in me“: I am the food of adults; grow up and eat me; it is not you who will change me into yourself, as is true of bodily food, but you will be changed into me. This is valid for liturgy and church music, as well as for teachings of faith and morals. When we say: “The people like this” we regard them as unable to develop, as animals rather than human beings, and we simply neglect our duties in helping them towards a true human existence, — indeed, in this case, to truly Christian existence.
The response of church musicians to this kind of apostasy in the Church was first of all protest. However, as soon as they found it hopelessly impossible to change matters, they shifted their tactics and chose what I consider a bad course. And here lies the responsibility of church musicians in the crisis. What they ought to have undertaken, by way of accepting the challenge, was hard intellectual work and almost superhuman courage. Church musicians ought to have learned again the theology (the theologia perennis and not the nouvelle theologie) of worship and its music, and the liturgy, along with the history of church music, so as to be able to diagnose the deepest causes of the malady and to find the means of alleviation. They ought to have formed a firm league in the defense of values, and I mean “defense” not in a rigidly conservative way, but rather a creative way. It might be that even this struggle would have ended in defeat, but a future generation could perhaps have built on this spiritual foundation.
Instead, the church musicians withdrew themselves into the narrow, restricted area left to them. One or two Masses were left to them to enjoy, to conduct a choir or orchestra, to perform the favored Palestrina or Mozart pieces (or their own compositions…). They can organize festivals, church concerts, conferences, Gregorian workshops and Masses. This gives the illusion of rescuing the “treasure of immeasurable value” bequeathed to the universal Church, even if only within the confined limits of this ghetto existence.
Laszlo Dobszay, The Bugnini-Liturgy and the Reform of the Reform (2003)