In composing program notes for an upcoming Christ the King recital I have been reminded yet again of the influences, deliberate and cultivated, of secular music on those musics intended to grace the rites of the Church. Even Bach is not free of this seeming taint. Of course, we are all aware of secularisms in the sacred music of Handel, the classicists, and others through the romantic era and into out own time. In organ music there are not only traces to be found in the master of masters, Bach, but in the French alternatim organ masses of the late baroque, whose versets are not only replete with popular Italianisms, but shamelessly mimic minuets and other secular forms - yet, whilst complaining of secularisms in the would-be sacred music in our day, we have no qualms about playing them as bonafide Church music. The same may be said of the post baroque voluntaries of Stanley, et al., which are, one really must admit, pure (though fine) entertainment.

There is, of course, a certain point at which the musical vocabulary of any given era may be as validly used for sacred as for profane musical discourse. After all, a treatise on Aquinian aesthetics will inevitably use lots of the same words which, re-arranged, could treat of, say, the influence of van Gogh on Picasso. Still, there is a recognisable use of vocabulary which, whether musical or literary, defines a work as sacred or profane. Is it possible for the one not to influence the other? A Tallis or a Tomkins motet or anthem could never be mistaken for a secular statement. Conversly, the motet's sister form, the madrigal, could not likely be mistaken for a sacred gem. Even Josquin's treatement of secular lays in sacred works so transforms them that their secular roots are hardly detectable. Segue to our day, and there is no such 'transformation' of the secular into sacred. With bald effrontery the secularisms to which sacred religious words have been put retain their secular flavour. It is not only retained, but entertained in deliberate preference to any sacred vocabulary or aesthetic. On the other hand, how is this different from such an example as Charpentier's equally entertaining Messe de Nuit pour Noel - except that Marc-Antoine's music is, by a very long shot, better music.

Related to this conundrum is the seeming reality that whilst obvious musical profanisms are very often found, even cultivated and tolerated, in sacred music, the opposite does not seem normally to occur, except, perhaps, by way of deliberate parody for a given effect. The interesting aspect of this is that secularisms in would-be sacred music are not offered as clever parody, but as bald invasion with the purposeful intent to replace the sacred aesthetic. For example, the Dominican sisters' Te Deum, subject of another recent thread, which, but for the sacred text, would quite naturally be assumed to be just another maudlin love song, or the syrupy theme song of yet another tawdry film. It is exemplary of nearly all music from the secular arena that has been dragged into the Church, music which is not merely secular, but preferably inspired by the musical aesthetic of the entertainment sector.

It is increasingly evident that we live in a culture which is both passively and actively hostile to religion, the Church, to God, and any overt expression of faith. This reality manifests itself not only in the secular spheres of society, but even in the teachings and attitudes of many in the Church itself, not by any means excluding any and all ranks of the clerical order. The secularisation of religious and sacred music, applauded by the majority of Christians in our land, is but another manifestation of this. Not only is orthodox belief and practice an unwelcome embarrassment to many supposed Christians of all communions, even moreso is truly sacred music.

Comments and observations on these dichotomies may follow....