When Irish Eyes are Smiling…Silently: Part 2 of “Do Catholics Sing?”

In our last installment, we talked about the subdued singing in many Catholic parishes and how it has a spectator sport quality, with many people listening to the cantor silently. We learned that this is not typical of Catholic churches in other countries nor of “ethnic” parishes in the U.S. (Nor is it typical of Protestant churches!)
 
 So what the heck happened to us? To get an answer, we must transport ourselves to the beautiful, verdant, misty…chilly….damp (this is sounding familiar) hills of Ireland. Imagine you are gathered after nightfall with other poor folk in a small hollow among the dripping trees outside an abandoned monastery. The cold, dampness of the night air is creeping through your thin clothes, but the love of Jesus in the Eucharist drew you here. You pray fervently—but silently—as the priest celebrates Mass with no altar but a large stone. After receiving the Eucharist, you and your neighbors slip quietly away into the mist to return home under cover of night.
 
 What a strange way to celebrate Mass. Why aren’t we going to Mass in a church or the chapel of the monastery? Because the English closed them. Why are we gathered after dark in the woods? Because our oppressors made Mass illegal. Our faithful priest, a former member of the monastery, is hiding from the English. He lives in a secret room in your neighbor’s house. If he is discovered, he will be arrested and killed, as will your friends who are hiding him.
 
 Catholicism was illegal in Ireland for 300 years. Back then, Irish believers were forced to gather secretly, and making any noise would have endangered them. Vibrant singing was certainly out of the question! Not only were Irish Catholics forced to experience Mass with no singing or instruments, but they were also cut off from musical development happening throughout the greater Church in Europe. Not only were they cut off from the greater Catholic Church, but whenever Irish believers heard church bells, or the sound of an organ, or a congregation singing as they walked past a closed church door, to their ears it was the sound of their oppressors, who could worship freely. After 300 years of this, perhaps Irish believers considered silent worship to be the truest, the most faithful, the best kind of worship!
 
 But what does this have to do with us, in the United States, in Catholic parishes in Seattle, in the 21st century?
 
 
 Stay tuned to find out next week!