The Power of Silence and the Problem of Sound in Worship – Catholic World Report

“The most powerful experience at the National Eucharistic Congress was the adoration, Father. Tens of thousands of people turned to the Lord in silence. My wife and I both felt like we caught a glimpse of heaven as we all united in that powerful moment of prayer.”

In a recent conversation with Father Cody Jorgensen, OP, campus chaplain of the University of Utah and surrounding schools, about my experience at the National Eucharistic Congress with my family, I mentioned the power of that moment and how it was both mitigated and enhanced by the music.

“You could have heard a pin drop. You could feel the power of the silence. But then it stopped. Something else started playing and got in the way, like a wall. The electric guitar started playing and a voice started singing loud pop-style praise and worship music and I had a hard time praying anymore,” I said.

“Shall I tell you why that is?” asked Father Cody.

“Yes, of course!” I replied emphatically. “But I should add that on one of the four evenings, another group, Floriani, performed traditional songs and hymns, and the same thing did not happen. It did not interrupt my prayer, but in fact strengthened it. I heard other people saying the same thing as we left the stadium that evening.”

Father replied, “That’s just my theory, but I’ve experienced it here in campus ministry, especially for young men. I wrote my master’s thesis in philosophy on the meaning of music. And music has this ability – Aristotle talks about it – to simulate emotions. Music has this emotional experience that makes you feel something. Aristotle distinguishes between cathartic music – and here you would understand great pop music that makes you feel something; it’s very emotive in the whole body, this emotional experience is very highly charged – and intellectual music like classical music and Gregorian chants, which don’t cause that kind of catharsis.”

Father Cody continued, “And that’s why in liturgy, when you listen to pop music, the music conveys an emotion, and it conveys it very strongly, in adoration, in Mass. You’re going to feel an inner resistance because an emotion is being projected onto you that you may not feel or may not want to feel, so you resist that emotion. Things like singing, on the other hand, create a larger space where you can feel whatever you want to feel when you pray, a space where you can feel whatever you need to feel when you pray. That’s what I’m talking about. I think men have a great aversion to things that try to artificially force you to feel something. It’s not that men aren’t in touch with their emotions, but I think we react very strongly when we’re forced to feel something that isn’t authentic to what we’re going through.

“I think about that when I think about the liturgical music we do here on campus. We don’t sing Gregorian chant, but we do things like Taizé, which is repetitive and chant-inspired, but creates this meditative place where you can sing – you don’t have to sing – you can pray – it’s not miked up and blaring at you over the loud sound system. You are called to pray in those moments, whether you’re singing or praying silently by yourself. So I would answer that: It’s the difference between forced to feel something. And pop music does that. Pop music tries to force you to feel that way.”

Father Cody graciously allowed me to join our conversation and taught me something important. Why do some forms of music seem to harmonize with the sacred while others turn us away from it, even when they contain sacred texts? We live in a culture that is constantly seeking entertainment that essentially offers an artificial experience, be it music or video, to fill a void of boredom in our lives. When we go to church, we are often looking for the same thing: something loud and visceral to keep us occupied, but that something also keeps us from encountering the Lord in silence.

The National Eucharistic Congress was truly a turning point for us in the revitalization of the Eucharist. And it was a glorious moment when pilgrims captured the heart of downtown Indianapolis as we lifted up the true King to bless the modern city. Many speakers rightly pointed out that we must carry this momentum home with us.

But to do this we must also rediscover what Cardinal Robert Sarah called “the power” of silence. In contrast to the noise of contemporary culture, in the silence of the Lord’s presence we can find that “the feelings that spring from a silent heart are expressed in harmony and silence. The great things in human life are experienced in silence, under God’s watchful eye. Silence is man’s greatest freedom” (Sarah, The power of silenceIgnatius, 35).