WENTY YEARS AGO, fresh out of college, I took a job in Texas. There was a particular priest there who hated me passionately. Years were to go by before I would discover the source of his contempt.1 All you need to know is that this priest considered himself a superb musician and was pastor of one of the largest churches in the diocese. He was desperate to impress a very traditional bishop scheduled to offer Mass at his church. Therefore—despite his deep hatred for me—this priest requested that I handle the music (since I directed a Schola Cantorum at the cathedral). On the telephone, I said to him: “We’re happy to assist, but doesn’t your parish have its own choir?” Although I can’t remember his exact words, I’ll never forget his response. He said: “We’re just a parish so we don’t have fancy things like choirs.”
Rage Still Flowing • I admit his response made me furious, and still makes me angry. A choir isn’t a fancy “add-on.” The choir contributes something quite important, and the Church has held this view for the better part of two millennia. For hundreds of years, Catholics spent hours memorizing intricate musical pieces contained in liturgical books … and these books were thousands of pages long. They weren’t doing this because they were bored. People in those days had many more obligations than anyone alive today—yet they still made time to memorize (before the invention of musical notation) hundreds of thousands of notes. That priest considered himself an expert in music. There’s absolutely no reason he couldn’t have at least one choir at his parish.
(1 of 2) Music At Parishes • Consider the following recording, which I recorded on my iPhone a few weeks ago on the feast of the Baptism of the Lord. It was recorded without the singers’ knowledge:
(2 of 2) Music At Parishes • A few months ago, I moved my family to Michigan (after living in Los Angeles for ten years). We’ve started a wonderful choir, and each Sunday we demonstrate great variety. We do a lot of polyphony, a lot of hymns, and the Chabanel Psalms. When it comes to plainsong, each Mass has (a) plainsong sung by the women’s Schola Cantorum accompanied by the pipe organ; (b) plainsong sung a cappella by the men; (c) plainsong sung by soloists accompanied by the pipe organ; (d) plainsong sung a cappella by soloists. We also make room for modern music, medieval music, and a great deal of organ music.
Faculty Member • For the record, the woman singing in that video (Kaitrin Drost) is a fabulous vocalist and conductor who’s agreed to serve on the faculty of Sacred Music Symposium 2025. I’m convinced the participants who work with Kaitrin will be blown away. I eagerly await this summer.
The “V” Word • Some might ask: “If you have a choir with 35 people, why do you have soloists singing the OFFERTORY CHANT each Sunday?” I believe that homo modernus—whose attention span has shrunk enormously in the era of TikTok and YouTube—greatly appreciates variety. Those who take the time to watch the video above will agree it’s quite beautiful. Even if a parish is so minuscule that a choir is out of the question, a handful of soloists can do a superb job chanting the propers (as that video proves beyond a doubt).
Renewal of Challenge • In many recent articles, I’ve been recommending the Brébeuf Catholic Hymnal. I believe this book is indispensable for any serious Catholic choirmaster. (I certainly couldn’t run my choral program without it.) I don’t use the “P-word” word lightly, but I’m comfortable calling the BRÉBEUF HYMNAL peerless. Indeed, one of the main authors for the Church Music Association of America weblog declared (6/10/2022) that the BRÉBEUF HYMNAL “has no parallel and not even any close competitor.” For years, I’ve been searching for a qualified partner willing to debate this assertion over zoom. Today—24 February 2025—I respectfully renew my challenge. Our website garners millions of hits, but so far nobody has accepted my challenge.
1 It seems rather pointless to reveal the details, especially since this priest was later accused (“credibly” according to his diocese) of abusing minors. As a result, he was removed from ministry. He persecuted me in ways that were incredibly immature. At that time, I was puzzled—since I’d never even met him. Years later I learned the reasons he hated me: (a) I had a close relationship with a particular bishop, which made this priest jealous; (b) This priest considered himself a good pianist, and someone with whom he lived constantly talked about my musical skills … which must have rankled.
