Reforming Music

Chiara Bertoglio

• Publisher: De Gruyter
• Year: 2017
• ISBN:
  9783110519334
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Theology & Religion
• Subtopic: Christian Theology

Five hundred years ago a monk nailed his theses to a church gate in Wittenberg. The sound of Luther's mythical hammer, however, was by no means the only aural manifestation of the religious Reformations.
This book describes the birth of Lutheran Chorales and Calvinist Psalmody; of how music was practised by Catholic nuns, Lutheran schoolchildren, battling Huguenots, missionaries and martyrs, cardinals at Trent and heretics in hiding, at a time when Palestrina, Lasso and Tallis were composing their masterpieces, and forbidden songs were concealed, smuggled and sung in taverns and princely courts alike.
Music expressed faith in the Evangelicals' emerging worships and in the Catholics' ancient rites; through it new beliefs were spread and heresy countered; analysed by humanist theorists, it comforted and consoled miners, housewives and persecuted preachers; it was both the symbol of new, conflicting identities and the only surviving trace of a lost unity of faith.
The music of the Reformations, thus, was music reformed, music reforming and the reform of music: this book shows what the Reformations sounded like, and how music became one of the protagonists in the religious conflicts of the sixteenth century.

Chapter 1 – Framing a century

It ought to be remembered that there is nothing more difficult to take in hand, more perilous to conduct, or more uncertain in its success, than to take the lead in the introduction of a new order of things5.

[Niccolò Machiavelli]

1.1.Introduction

This Chapter will provide the reader with a brief overview of the main events in the history of the European Reformations of the sixteenth century, and frame them within the larger narrative of the historical, social, economic, philosophical, artistic and religious processes characterising the Early Modern era.

Given the intended readership of this book, I confidently assume that most of what I will discuss in this Chapter will be familiar to my readers, and that probably some of them will be more knowledgeable than I am on several of the topics I will briefly touch upon. Indeed, when one morning I woke up with a “vision” of Chapter One, rising fully fledged as Athena from Zeus’ mind, and showing me what a historical introduction to the Reformation era should look like, I also felt that a satisfactory result would be nearly impossible to achieve.

In order to frame the hundred years 1500 –1599, a variety of viewpoints should be taken into account: the history of culture and thought, that of economy and explorations; the innumerable artistic achievements of a century which will probably remain unparalleled; the complex alchemies of international and national politics, with wars, alliances, treasons, marriages and commerce; the literary, philosophical and scientific output of the era; a summary of the theological questions which caused the main religious controversies; and, of course, an overview of secular music, which I will mention only cursorily in the remainder of this book.

To provide even a very sketchy narrative of these aspects would require enormous space and a knowledge I will not claim to possess. Instead of a sketch, then, I will merely limit myself to a frame – and to a not very elaborate one. Its main purpose will simply be to give momentum to the following discussion, and to help the reader’s view to focus on the canvas it encompasses.

The very terms used for describing the temporal framework I arbitrarily adopted for this book depend largely on the writer’s cultural, religious, geographical and historical perspective. Having been schooled in Italy, I grew up with a mind-set which equated the Cinquecento with a part of the Renaissance, whereas in other countries it will be known as the Reformation era, or the first post-Columbian age, to remain only within a Western perspective.

Especially as concerns the historical figures of the religious Reformers and their theological issues, I will return to many of the topics summarily sketched here within other sections of this book, especially when a deeper discussion will be necessary in order to comprehend their theology and/or practice of music.

In sum, for those unacquainted with it, this Chapter will neither be nor aim to be a thorough introduction to the sixteenth century; for the educated readers who will honour me by reading the following Chapters, these pages will probably be superfluous; possibly, however, this Chapter will serve as an aide-memoire for recalling what is well known and for paving the way to a more specialised discussion.

Indeed, history should always be construed, understood and interpreted as a process – and as an ongoing one, in which we, as interpreters of the past, are deeply immersed in turn; individual events are seldom isolated watersheds, but more frequently demand to be understood within a complex framework of causes and effects, which normally intertwine with each other and can rarely be extricated from their context.

Of course, such a narrative, as regards the sixteenth century and its religious Reformations, would require a much larger space than that of a historical introduction: the reader interested in a more detailed and less simplistic perspective will find possibilities of further reading in the bibliography listed at the end of the book.

Whilst space limitations will constrain my historical summary within the boundaries of a very concise exposition, I will try and provide the reader with a slightly more faceted overview of the theological issues at stake. The significance of some of the points of contention among theologians of the sixteenthcentury is neither patent nor self-evident; however, the reward for delving in some depth into such problems will be immediate.

Firstly, indeed, theological subjects which may seem of minor importance in the eyes of contemporary readers were matters of (literally) life or death for believers of the sixteenth century. Secondly, it will be frequently apparent that matters of “mere” words had impressive repercussions on the complex of faith, and therefore on the daily lives of thousands of people which might know little of theology, but certainly placed faith high within their scale of values. Finally, though some of the theological points raised by the Reformers have little or no relevance to musical topics, many others have important consequences either for the concept of music’s role in the lives of the believers, in liturgy and in worship, or for the actual practice of Christian communities.

1.2.Theology: the issues at stake

“Teacher, […] what must I do to inherit eternal life?”. This question, asked by an expert in the Jewish law to Jesus (Luke 10:25) is, in a nutshell, not only the basic question to which sixteenth-century theologians strove to find an answer, but, more importantly, the crucial question on the destiny of every man and woman who believes in life after death.

And yet, the very wording of the question reveals a paradoxical truth: “what must I do”, from the one side, and “to inherit” from the other. One has to do nothing to inherit, the only conditions being the heir’s life and the testator’s death. Or, possibly, one could be denied an inheritance if he or she has deeply outraged the testator, who is thus led to modify the will. So, there is something to do, after all: if you wish to inherit, be kind to those who write their will.

Who gives eternal life? For Christians, this is a gift, the supreme gift of God, who created humankind – or rather every man and woman – in His image, and thus wants to share with them, who are by definition finite creatures, His own eternal life.

The Fall of Adam and Eve established a condition of fallenness known as “original sin”, which is believed to be normally shared by all human beings6. Thus, the second Person of the Trinity, the Son (who is of the same eternal and divine nature as the Father and the Spirit), took human flesh in what is known as “incarnation” and was born to the Virgin Mary. He suffered, was crucified and is risen on the third day; through this sacrifice, Christians believe, he saved humankind: “There is salvation in no one else, for there is no other name under heaven given among mortals by which we must be saved” (Acts 4:12).

This is the core message of the Christian faith, and one which remains both shared and crucial for Christians of all denominations.

1.2.1.How are we saved?

Problems arise, however, when one asks the question of how actually God saves us, and particularly whether this or that actual person will be saved. Of course, Christ’s sacrifice is believed to be more than sufficient for saving every human being in history; but does this mean everyone will be saved, regardless of his or her beliefs or actions? Are there actions which are indispensable for being saved (such as, for example, to be baptised and to believe in Christ)? Or is salvation something which ultimately depends on one’s personal choices and behaviours?

The matter is further complicated by some passages of Scripture which are open to various interpretations. From the one side, the Old Testament prophets, Christ himself and his first followers unwaveringly condemned a purely ritualistic observance of precepts, which ultimately leads people to conceive their relationship to God and to others in a utilitarian way: I did this, so you owe me that (prosperity, salvation etc.: cf., for example Proverbs 21:3.27; Hosea 6:6; Matthew 15:1–9; Mark 12:33; Romans 3:28 etc.). Moreover, there is Scriptural evidence showing that people can be saved by a single act of faith and repentance and in spite of an entire life of sin (Luke 23:43). From the other side, the innumerable teachings about right and wrong behaviour in the Bible, from the Commandments to Christ’s law of love, bear witness to the relevance of righteousness, charity and holiness (cf. also James 2:17.26).

Before the Reformations, and in spite of some plurality of theological viewpoints, the belief of the Catholic Church could be summarised as: God has saved us in Christ (so the ultimate initiative is that of God’s Grace, which is a free gift bestowed to humans); but humans are required to respond freely to this Grace, and this response is embodied and seen in their profession of faith and their loving behaviour to God and to other human beings.

This idea seemed uncontroversial for believers, inasmuch as there appeared to be a clear distinction between the “works of the law” (condemned as an unnecessary ritualism which ultimately destroys one’s capacity to love), and the “good deeds” which accompany and show one’s faith.

Love and charity, to be sure, are non-measurable quantities. And the Gospel makes it clear (Matthew 20:12; Luke 15:29) that a lifelong righteousness is no worthier, in God’s eyes, than a last-minute heartfelt repentance.

In spite of this, the belief gradually emerged that the saints’ good deeds are somehow stored in a kind of spiritual treasure, which may be used to help those sinners who would not qualify for salvation. Instead of a Father who “desires everyone to be saved” (1 Timothy 2:4), God was increasingly seen as an impartial judge, in front of whom one needed good advocates.

Moreover, whereas in the first centuries of the Christian era it was believed that either one was saved (and then went to heaven) or damned (and then went to hell), later the Church proposed a third option, which is known as purgatory, and is the state of souls who are ultimately saved, but need to be purified after death and before entering paradise.

It was also believed that one could help his or her dear deceased ones and shorten their stay in purgatory by praying for them and offering good deeds to the Lord on their behalf; the best “deed” of all to be offered was the Holy Mass, which was considered as the re-presentation of Christ’s saving sacrifice – thence the practice of offering masses for the dead.

Since humans are frequently prone to want value for money7, however, many wondered: if two masses are better than one, “how much” better are two than one? How much time in purgatory will be remitted from my dear deceased one in exchange for this mass?

Thus a commercial mentality progressively took hold of such sacred concepts as salvation, mercy and forgiveness, up to the point that “indulgences” (i. e. time-off purgatory) could be actually sold. They even became an easymoney resource for Church authorities whose financial perspectives were not rosy – for example, when Popes spent too much on building the magnificent Basilica of St Peter in Rome, or when an archbishop became indebted to bankers for purchasing a title.

1.2.2.Justified by grace

This was the spark which ignited the Reform of Martin Luther (1483–1546): he was outraged at what he perceived to be the Simonic exchange of grace for gold. From Luther’s rethinking of the “economy of salvation” (how we are saved, technical name soteriology), prompted by his contestation of indulgences, he went on to elaborate his theory of “justification” (i. e. the process by which sinners are “made just” by God and thus saved), which is summarised by the Latin keywords of sola fide, sola gratia and sola scriptura.

By sola fide (“faith only”), Luther meant that faith in Christ is the only thing which is actually and necessarily required of men and women to be saved, in opposition to the idea that good works or deeds were equally necessary.

By sola gratia (“grace only”) it is implied that God’s grace is an entirely free gift by virtue of which we are saved, and is not something one could earn or achieve.

By sola scriptura (“Scripture only”) a new emphasis is placed on the Word of God as contained and communicated in the Bible, while the importance of transmitted (traditional, from the Latin traditio) interpretation of the Bible is downplayed. In fact, for Catholics, the chain of official Church pronouncements (magisterium), which are based in turn on what is believed to be a divinely inspired interpretation of the Bible, are as important as the Bible itself for the establishment of dogma. For Luther, all believers have the right to interpret the Scripture in a (relative) freedom, as the Spirit suggests it to them. I added the adjective “relative” to this interpretive freedom, because Luther did not reject in full the one and a half millennium of Church tradition, and he held in high consideration the pronouncements of the so-called Church Fathers (i. e. the holy theologians of the first centuries). It was rather towards the recent magisterial pronouncements that he became more and more critical.

From these basic concepts and points of dissent between Luther and the Catholic Church, a few other crucial problems arise. The first of them is that of free will and predestination, a point on which both Desiderius Erasmus of Rotterdam (c.1469–1536) and John Calvin (Jehan Cauvin, 1509–1564) had much to say. To put it simply: if we are saved by grace only (sola gratia), and if our deeds are not decisive for salvation, then we are basically saved or condemned from the very onset of our life. In other words, we are destined for heaven or hell before we do anything (from the Latin prædestinatio, “præ-” meaning before and “destinatio” destination: cf. Romans 8:29–30). In consequence of this, we are not really free to accept or refuse salvation, to say yes or no to God’s love (this freedom is known as “free will”). Radically put (and few Reformers were this radical), our doom has been predetermined for us and there is nothing we can do to change it.

While the idea that we are not the only agents of and responsible for our salvation could be a liberating and heartening one, especially for people who were prone to scruples and spiritual anguish, predestination was ultimately not entirely consoling in turn, as it raised the question, “Have I been destined for the right group?” instead of the previous “Am I doing all I can in order to be saved?”8.

A second point deriving from the three “sola” principles is what is known as the priesthood of all believers. If we are saved by ...