Symphonic Meditations for 9/11

I came across an informative piece on Aaron Copland, his politics and his music, titled, “Appalachian Autumn” written by Alex Ross in the August 27, 2007 issue of the New Yorker magazine (page 34). This article struck me personally as we approach the sixth anniversary of 9/11.In the days immediately following 9/11, numbed by the endless reportage on television, I turned to two American composers, Aaron Copland and Charles Ives. Their music not only soothed my soul but also helped me reflect deeply on the unique genius of America, and the problematic interpretations of that genius from inside and outside this country. I am forever grateful to these two American composers for assisting me to look more deeply into the significance of life after 9/11.So I was most interested in this Copland article. Copland realized that “a mood of suspicion, ill-will and dread that typifies the Cold War attitude” during his productive years stymied the artist. Yet he managed to create a body of work that continues to help me navigate life in this tender land today. Would Copland be able to create music today in the present atmosphere of suspicion, ill-will and dread that has been generated since 9/11?

I don’t know.

But this I do know: even though Copland is long gone, his sometimes deceptively simple music lives on, and reveals a complex mind who thought deeply about the American experiment. Ross ends his piece, “Copland conjures a perfect American Sunday in which the music of all peoples streams from the open doors of a white-steepled church that does not yet exist.”

Both Copland and Ives weave explicitly spiritual music in their various works. Yet their work is often categorized as secular. Certainly, for me, in the aftermath of 9/11, and now, six years later, their works function as sacred music for me.

What makes sacred music? What makes music sacred? Good questions for sure. Listen to Copland and Ives carefully before trying to answer these questions.

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Sacred Music and the Quest for the Divine: an introduction

In short, I have great interest in the quest for the Divine, and how the arts are faithful companions along the way.This interest is both personal and professional.My own personal quest for the Divine the first 18 years of my life was contextualized in pre-Vatican II Roman Catholicism. Latin liturgies, solemn high masses, and Gregorian chant were coins of the religious realm for me.

I was a university student during the Second Vatican Council (1961-1965) when Roman Catholicism evolved from its exclusively high church liturgical practice to a more inclusive and communal church liturgical practice.

This seismic shift included liturgy in the language of the people, a period of great experimentation and creativity in liturgical practice and sacred music, and, to the dismay of some, loss of a great tradition of sacred music in Latin. Since my university years, I have embraced this reorientation of my religious tradition with enthusiasm, and my continuing quest for the Divine now is contextualized in, but not limited to, post-Vatican II Roman Catholicism.

In my professional life, I teach graduate religious studies at Loyola University Chicago’s Institute of Pastoral Studies. Most all of my students are in church ministries. They help others quest for the Divine. Although Loyola is a Catholic University, about 20% of my students are from religious traditions other than Roman Catholicism. Students from many different Christian denominations as well as Jewish, Hindu, and Moslem students come to learn how to minister at our Institute.

We welcome them all and know that our school is a better place because of the religious diversity represented in our student body. We all learn from each other about the quests for the Divine embodied in the various religious and spiritual traditions.

I have come to appreciate God’s revelation is not necessarily confined to one or another particular religious tradition. Jacques Dupuis writes in Christianity and the Religions, “In short, the question is whether the divine design for humankind might not be much more vast and deep than we had every thought before.” I think he has hit the theological nail on the head.

Sacred music is both a language and experience that transcends denominationalism, and reflects the much more vast and deep divine design Dupuis writes about. Sacred music has the power to reach into people’s hearts, illuminate their religious consciousness, and sustain them on their never ending quest for the Divine. Sacred music also provides common ground for people of the many and varied faith traditions to come together as they quest for the Divine.

Faithful people experience salvation in their quest for the Divine, not by sacred music alone! Yet sacred music can point the way and ease the path, for those on this pilgrimage. Faithful people are fortunate to have Soli Deo Gloria as a rich resource of tradition and creativity.

I hope to further illuminate the theological dimensions of sacred music through my comments and conversations.

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