But, is it art?

I spent years working a "Clark Kent" job at a contemporary art center. There were many of us Clark Kents there, all supporting our secret, super-hero identities. By day, we were guards, maintenance men, janitors, laborers, cooks, bus boys, cashiers, book store floor reps, and secretaries to the movers and shakers of the art center.

But, by night...

...by night, we embraced our secret identities and fought for truth, justice, and...well, at least we fought for what we decided was truth.

We painted. We wrote. We acted. We performed music. We became.

While our Clark Kent jobs might've seemed fairly mindless to us, our dreams were not. The art center lounge, where we'd take our breaks, was a stage where, at one time or another, each Clark Kent would reveal their super-hero identity to the other super heroes and explain the merits of their "truths."

But "truth" begged questions, and one of the most common questions, and fodder for endless discussion, not just once, but with each generation of Clark Kents on their way to the stars, was this: What is art? What is art? What is art?

Had we worked a few miles down the road at the Art Institute, this question probably wouldn't have been as prevalent. On display at the institute was classic art that had passed the test of time and the mud-slinging of bitter contemporaries. From the Dutch masters to Picasso, from Van Gough to Michelangelo, the permanent collection presented that which Western culture had defined as art, in some cases, for century upon century. As assuredly as we knew Beethoven’s 9th was genius, we knew that God had reached down and gifted Michelangelo with the means of granting the rest of the humans a glimpse of the Eternal.

At the contemporary art center at which I worked, it was a different story.

If our art center made the news, it was not for displaying the "lost" Rembrandt, but for the controversy of displaying that which 99 out of 100 people defined as pornography. Then, there was the blank canvas piece that begged comparisons with pre-school art projects. In all honesty, the pre-schoolers exhibited a more mature sense of form, color value, and subject matter.

The confusion created by the subjective nature of contemporary art was the fuel that fired the perpetual discussion: what is art?

One week's discussion embraced self-affirmation art. Painting or sculpting as a vehicle to trumpet our own experience, our own opinions, became a means to verify our innermost feelings, our endeavors, and our desires. The eternal question was answered: Our lives are art, and only through our art, are we affirmed.

The next week's discussion focused on absence-of-form as art. In its minimalism, art expresses complexity. Nothing is as provocative as "nothing." The blank canvas, the un-molded piece of clay, the empty box inspires participation and lifts each heart to produce art, because, we must remember that "art" is in the "heart."

After a week of primal screams, head-bonking to elicit pain, and displays of angst to prove the "art" in the "heart," and, then, having come across the press release for the schedule of the next season's shows, almost as one, us Clark Kents tired of the discussion and threw in the towel, collectively deciding that "art is what is displayed in art centers."

For my part, I not only grew tired of the discussion, I grew tired of the pursuit of my self-defined "truth." I realized that truth was not something that each person invented for themselves. It was, as the '80's Sci-Fi series The X Files assured us, "out there."

Eventually, I converted to the Catholic Church and realized that a vocation isn't just what one decides to do. It's a life which God directs each person to live. For my wife and me, we discerned sacramental marriage and the call to imitate the Holy Family.

As such, we came to understand the serious responsibility of passing the Faith along to our children.

Sadly, the Church we had found in the Tridentine Mass at St. Augustine's in South St. Paul was not easy to discern in most parishes. In fact, it was and is, for all intents and purposes, almost obscured by a Mass which, as celebrated, more clearly presents an orientation towards feelings and empowerment of people, especially women, than presenting a form of worship which unites people under one universal orientation towards Jesus among us in the Eucharist. 

While the new translation offers text which precisely presents Catholic Eucharistic faith, prayer orientation remains confusing. Contributing mightily to this confusion, are the hymnals used in most parishes.

One of the most powerful means of inspiring faith, religious zeal, and reverence, while raising one's heart towards God, is music.

The liturgical music of the Church should do all of this by being...well...liturgical!

On any given Sunday, when attending the Ordinary Form of the Roman Rite, as the amplified music bombards me from on high, I am struck by the similarity between the nature of this music and that of contemporary art. Both offer a recipe for confusion: whisk together one part "here-today-gone-tomorrow," one part "self-affirmation," one part "personal empowerment," and add "spontaneity" and "subjective truth" to taste. 

This analogy must break down. Contemporary art is beholden to the opinions of critics and the populace, at least the populace populating the contemporary art world.

The Catholic Church has a central authority guided by the Holy Spirit. The Catholic Church preaches one truth, not many. The Catholic Church has defined liturgical music and has stated in no uncertain terms that Gregorian chant is the most proper form of music for the liturgy. The Second Vatican Council reiterated the Church's long-held position on liturgical music: "The Church acknowledges Gregorian chant as specially suited to the Roman Liturgy; therefore … it should be given pride of place in liturgical services. But other kinds of sacred music, especially polyphony, are by no means excluded … so long as they accord with the spirit of the liturgical action."

The Second Vatican Council introduced the concept that an appropriate alternative to Gregorian chant might be used for the liturgy, but, ultimately, the documents of the Second Vatican Council must be interpreted in the light of Tradition and of the Council of Trent. In that respect, there can exist few appropriate alternatives to Gregorian Chant. Certainly, we must not consider Shall We Gather at the River, Sing a New Church, Morning Has Broken, or the bulk of musical offerings in the most-used Catholic hymnals as appropriate to substitute for Gregorian chant and polyphony.

The most widely distributed hymnals in Catholic parishes in America include content which, conceptually, mirrors the galleries of contemporary art centers. In putting forward as "Catholic" songs written by non-Catholics that only brush the surface of our faith, these hymnals not only present a watered down, subjective approach to the Catholic faith, but actually promote the suppression of that which the Church has clearly defined to be liturgical music. As Catholics, we must not fall into the trap as did the Clark Kents of the contemporary art center, tiring of the fight and acquiescing to the idea that anything on display in a gallery is art.

As Catholics we must stand firm on our heritage and our Church's authoritative definition of liturgical music. Inclusion in a hymnal does not guarentee liturgical merit.

If we attend a sporting event, we have come to expect a display of patriotism towards the country which allows for this type of competition. In America, this means playing and singing the Star Spangled Banner while directing our attention towards our country's flag. We take off our hats. We place our right hand over our heart. But, how would the crowd react if, instead, they were prompted to honor our country by singing Hey Jude? Such a song choice certainly would not inspire patriotism!

A similar scenario, a disconnect between the music and liturgy, exists in most of our parishes each Sunday. Should we not expect, and demand actual liturgical music, unbridled by subjective definitions which promote ecumenism and entertainment over doctrine? As much as we stand together as countrymen to defend and honor our country, we must stand together as Catholics to guard the deposit of faith, including the manner in which it is presented through worship and music. We can't allow our faith to continue to be muddled by the playing and singing of non-liturgical and even non-Catholic music as part of the liturgy.

Let the Baptists gather at the river, the liberal nuns sing their own new church, and Cat Stevens herald mother earth, but let Catholics be Catholic. We might well echo the words in the fourth movement of Beethoven's 9th Symphony: Oh friends, not these tones! Rather, let us raise our voices in more pleasing and more joyful sounds!