HEY SAY THAT Abbé Franz Liszt played a composition best of all when sight-reading it for the first time.1 After playing through it once, Liszt became “jaded”—so he started to tinker around with it, adding his own modifications to avoid boredom. Today, I’d like to speak about becoming jaded. To become jaded is to suffer a horrible fate. Thankfully, God has designed the lives of human beings to be filled with new experiences. For instance, one does not become a mother or a father when one is still a child. Childhood has its own experiences; only when those are complete should one move on to the next stage.
Avoid Becoming Jaded (1 of 4) • I can clearly remember attempting to accompany IMMACULATE MARY on the pipe organ in rural Kansas during the 1990s. As a pianist, I was already playing serious concert music: Chopin, Bach, Mozart, MacDowell, Medtner, and so forth. Nevertheless, I was struggling mightily to accompany this simple hymn and sing at the same time. Looking back, it seems incredible—because these days I can accompany IMMACULATE MARY in my sleep—but I assure you I was practicing it like crazy. However, my “time” for such things has passed; I’ve moved on.
Avoid Becoming Jaded (2 of 4) • One thing I encourage ad infinitum during my seminar is the importance of musical diversity. For example, the various strophes of a hymn can be sung in a variety of different ways: female only, male only, SATB, re-harmonized, treble parts only, with descant, with a pedal tone, interspersed with improvisation on the pipe organ, and so forth. Doing this can help the conscientious choirmaster avoid becoming jaded.
Avoid Becoming Jaded (3 of 4) • Since the late 1990s, my musicality has ripened. May I tell you a secret? I’ve reached a point where I can’t stand hearing men and women sing a hymn tune in unison. This “development” of my musical ear—which I hope never stops—has helped keep me from becoming jaded. In the following, do you agree the sound with females in unison is nicer than the sound of men and women in unison?
The piece you just heard is the Church’s oldest Eucharistic hymn in Latin. Here’s how it looked in a seventh-century manuscript:
Avoid Becoming Jaded (4 of 4) • Another way one can avoid becoming jaded is to focus on the richness contained in these ancient hymns. For instance, consider verse number 2:
M 2. Saved through the body
M and blood of Christ,
M refreshed by him,
M let us sing praises to God.
Now consider verse number 4:
M 4. The Lord, offered
M in sacrifice for all,
M himself became
M their priest and victim.
Those themes echo the lyrics and themes of Ad Cenam Agni, another extremely ancient Catholic hymn. Now consider verse number 5:
M 5. For victims to be sacrificed
M is a command in the Law,
M through which are foreshadowed
M the divine mysteries.
The footnote of the Brébeuf Catholic Hymnal says: “The sacrifices of the Old Covenant prefigure the sacrament of the Eucharist, which is the sacrifice of Christ and his Church; the blessed Sacrament was anciently called ‘the Mysteries’ (cf. The Acts of Saint Tarcisius).” Indeed, those words are consonant with the famous hymn by Saint Thomas Aquinas: Pange Lingua Gloriosi—specifically, the words nóvo cédat rítui, which are explained here.
1 We know this is true from the testimony of world-class musicians who witnessed with their own eyes Liszt’s astounding and peerless sight-reading abilities. For example, Edvard Grieg brought to Franz Liszt his piano concerto, which was written in manuscript and “barely legible” according to Grieg. Franz Liszt proceeded to play—at sight!—both the piano and orchestral parts perfectly, without missing a note. Grieg wrote: “He was literally over the whole keyboard at once, without missing a note. And how he did play, with grandeur, beauty, genius, and unique comprehension. I think I laughed, laughed like an idiot.”
