Yet even music that is well written and inspired can be unsuitable for the liturgy when it fails to respect its requirements and attempts to impose its own rhythm on the natural flow of the religious ceremony. This can happen when a composer, despite being a good musician, lacks sufficient knowledge of the liturgy and its rhythms. For example, if a piece is considerably longer or shorter than the time allotted to the liturgical moment for which it was written, it may be magnificent music, but it is nevertheless unsuitable for the liturgy.

Let us take an example: if I know that the Offertory lasts, say, five minutes, but I have a piece that lasts fifteen minutes, I must understand that this composition is not appropriate for that particular liturgical moment, unless it offers the possibility of being shortened. If it is shorter than five minutes, that may actually be preferable, since the organ can fill the remaining time.

We must also take into account the age in which we live. At a time when people’s attention spans tend to be considerably shorter, we should avoid excessively lengthy musical passages that would not necessarily help the faithful in their prayer. Certainly, music has its own artistic requirements, but these must be harmonised as far as possible with those of the liturgy.

Here is another example: we know that a spoken Kyrie lasts only a few seconds; when sung to a Gregorian melody, it takes around two minutes, while a polyphonic setting may last as long as five minutes, as in Palestrina’s Missa Papae Marcelli. Nevertheless, we should maintain a sense of proportion and avoid excessively prolonging these moments, so as to preserve the attention and spiritual participation of the faithful.

Flexibility in timing must always be guided by a sound understanding of the liturgy and by common sense. The liturgical celebration is not an occasion for musicians to give priority to expressing their personal aspirations or preferences. Rather, it is the context in which they are called to place their technical and artistic abilities at the service of a higher purpose: enabling music to become harmoniously integrated into the liturgy.

In the past, the liturgy offered different opportunities and spaces for music. Today, however, even in Vetus Ordo Masses, we must ensure that music does not overshadow the rite but serves it in the best possible way.

In fact, at least in this respect, there are no significant differences between the Vetus Ordo and the Novus Ordo regarding the music performed. Certainly, there are differences when it comes to certain repertoires, but not in the approach that a composer, organist, choir director or cantor should adopt towards the rite.

It is the rite that sets the pace of the dance. This should never be forgotten.

A student of Rolande Falcinelli, she is now co-titular organist (alongside Karol Mossakowski) of the grand organ at Saint-Sulpice Church, a church of great importance also for its organ tradition. One need only think of Charles-Marie Widor, Louis Vierne, and Marcel Dupré.

Unfortunately, I was unable to meet this organist in person, as she was away from Paris when I was there. Technology, as so often happens nowadays, came to our assistance. Here is what we discussed.

My first question is: what was your first approach to improvisation?

“My first approach was when I was a teenager. At that time, I loved to play a lot of songs from that period on the piano for my friends at school. And around the theme, I often added some different melodies. It was “improvisation” around the theme. And at that moment I discovered that I appreciated doing this without any method, just by feel.

Also, as soon as I played my first services at the church, when I was very young, the priest didn’t like silence. By exemple, after the prist’s homily or the hymns , I had to improvise one or two minutes. It was difficult for me but, more and more, it became natural even if I didn’t get the strcuture and the language At this time, I have not yet learnt improvisation!”

Would you say that there are different categories of improvisation?

“Yes. For me, there are two categories. There is free improvisation, and there is improvisation à la manière de, when you improvise in the style of a particular composer or period. Free improvisation can lead to improvising alongside silent films, texts, paintings, and many other forms of artistic expression, which is something I greatly enjoy.”

You studied with Rolande Falcinelli. How did she teach you improvisation?

“When I was studying with Rolande Falcinelli, she first taught me the classical style. I learned how how to improvise variations on a chorale, and how to follow a strict fugue plan.

After that, she taught me the modal language, especially around a Gregorian melody. Then we worked on the Romantic style, with symphonies, symphonic variations and free language. From Rolande Falcinelli, I appreciatd that she never criticized my own style neither those of the other students.

My personal language comes from all the styles that I have played, heard and loved. All these different things are part of my musical language : we always are nourished by what we hear and what we like.”

French organists have a very strong tradition of improvisation. Were there particular models or composers who influenced you?

“I love Maurice Ravel and Duruflé. For me, Duruflé is the best composer of the twentieth century, and he helped me a lot.

But I never tried to imitate anybody. Falcinelli always encouraged me to find my own personal language. I insist that she never told me that my language was bad or that I had to change it.”

What do you think about the situation of women organists in France?

“I don’t understand why I was the only woman to receive a prize at the international Chartres competition. Since the beginning, in 1970, I have been the unique woman who has received a prize from this competition. Why? I don’t know.

Today there are still not many women. For example, Lucie Dolat, she is around thirty years old, and she is a very good woman organist who improvises.”

What advice would you give to a young person who wants to learn improvisation?

“My advice would be to study with method! Personally, I have created a method for beginners, and I have been using this method for a long time now.

We begin with classical and modal language, with many exercises. I also teach form, because it is very important to create a form in your head: how to begin, how to develop, and how to finish the improvisation. The art of improvsation cannot be improvised.

So I would say: use a method, work with it, and improve more and more.”

If a church musician makes a mistake, he should, of course, be corrected. But when he performs his duties well, the dignity of his role must be upheld. True church musicians are those who have spent years studying in order to carry out their service, whether or not they hold a formal diploma. They should be treated with the respect they deserve, and this respect should be demonstrated through certain important attitudes on the part of their immediate superior.

First of all, they must be paid fairly for their service, which requires years of study, sacrifice, and personal renunciation. Having financial power over a musician should not lead superiors to believe that they are entitled to exploit him simply because they assume he would do anything to keep his position and the income it provides. Anyone who behaves in this way reveals himself to be petty and mean-spirited. A skilled and well-prepared musician brings significant artistic quality to the celebration, and this must never be forgotten.

Secondly, the musician’s professional dignity must be safeguarded. When matters concerning music arise, he should be heard and consulted, rather than pushed aside as though his presence were of no use. A superior may, of course, ultimately make a decision that differs from the musician’s opinion, but the musician’s viewpoint must nevertheless be treated with respect.

The musician must be defended, sometimes even against other musicians, since jealousy and pettiness exist everywhere. He should not be placed in a position where he feels constantly pressured by others, because the keen sensitivity that often characterises musicians can lead to situations of considerable emotional tension. One should not attempt, perhaps even with good intentions, to set two musicians against each other; nothing good can come of it. Often, the musician himself is best placed to decide with whom he wishes to collaborate for the good of the service entrusted to him.

Sadly, even among musicians, there are petty and mean-spirited individuals who denigrate the work of others in an attempt to obtain what they are unable to achieve by other means. Such people should not be promoted, for there is nothing Christian about their behaviour.

A musician who feels respected can transform the character of liturgical celebrations, enriching them for the benefit of everyone. A musician who does not feel respected may instead harbour a sense of frustration that leaves him suspicious and devoid of motivation.

The choice is yours.

Nevertheless, it must be stated with great clarity that improvisation plays a very important role in our musical practice. Ethnomusicology teaches us that, for thousands of years, music-making was a phenomenon in which improvisation played a predominant part. The music of traditional cultures, not bound by written notation, thrived on improvisation. Even when a certain melody recurred, it was never quite the same, being varied in countless different ways.

I believe we can also regard the Virgin Mary’s song as a great act of improvisation, as recounted in the first chapter of the Gospel of Luke:

This song of praise, now so widely known, was probably sung by Mary as an act of love towards the Creator. We could read Sacred Scripture through the lens of improvisation and discover a wealth of material that might help us understand the significant role musical improvisation played in the lives of our ancestors.

Indeed, what are we to make of the passage in the First Book of Samuel (10:5–6)?

Music here serves as the underlying medium through which the prophets are enabled to prophesy spontaneously. The account of Elisha makes this even more evident (2 Kings 3:15):

Before the act of prophesying, music must be present, as though to prepare the way for the Lord to make His presence felt by Elisha.

Improvisation played a significant role in Jewish culture. Abraham Zevi Idelsohn discusses this in a book published nearly a century ago, which is certainly somewhat dated today but can nevertheless still teach us something: Jewish Music in Its Historical Development. On page 26, he observes that the peoples of the East were deeply drawn to improvisation. He also makes it clear, however, that improvisation was not mere spontaneity for its own sake. Rather, it had to operate within a particular modal framework and, in any case, remain faithful to traditional melodies. Throughout the book, he makes numerous references to the art of improvisation among the Jewish people.

This characteristic was certainly shared by other ancient cultures, in which oral tradition still played a very important role. It enabled knowledge to be transmitted from master to disciple, a process based not primarily on theoretical instruction but on imitation of the master, allowing the disciple eventually to discover a personal path.

When we speak of organ improvisation, we must not forget the deep roots of improvisational practice, not only within our own culture but throughout all human cultures. Improvisation provides access to a dimension of music-making that is different from, but not opposed to, the world of written musical literature. This is why it is so fascinating to explore this way of approaching music, a tradition that has travelled through history to reach us today.

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1. We must make people understand the difference between popular song and liturgical chant.

We need to clarify the distinction between popular song and liturgical chant in a context where popular songs are now routinely presented as liturgical music. Popular song tends to be more subjective, sometimes even sentimental in character. The Church has traditionally allowed this kind of expression in devotional practices. Liturgical chant, by contrast, has a more objective character and is based on the texts of the liturgy. Unfortunately, everything has been thrown into one melting pot, with the result that the singing of liturgical texts has been almost abandoned in favour of compositions that are unsuitable for use in the liturgy. It also happens that liturgical texts are set to music of an excessively sentimental character, which certainly does not serve the liturgy well. In our churches, we are often immersed in an ocean of saccharine sweetness.

2. We must return to the true Council, not the one misrepresented by certain liturgical experts.

If people were to read Sacrosanctum Concilium, they would understand that the chapter devoted to sacred music has remained almost a dead letter. Those who say this are not opposed to the Council; on the contrary, they intend to defend its authentic teachings, rather than the distortions perpetuated by so many who take advantage of the widespread ignorance of conciliar documents.

3. Must we really be afraid of Latin?

During my time in Asia, I encountered Chinese people who wanted to sing in Latin. Today, when opportunities for education and access to information are so readily available, Latin should certainly not be an obstacle for anyone. We live in a multicultural world. Is it really possible that we must be afraid of a culture that is, after all, our own? The problem with Latin lies more in the minds of certain priests shaped by the spirit of 1968 than in reality itself.

4. Masters of music and organists should be appointed on the basis of genuine competence.

Masters of music and organists should be selected for their actual professional competence, not because they are protégés of one parish priest or another, or of this or that canon. What are we supposed to make of what we witness, even in important basilicas? It is true that favouritism has always existed. But we must not forget that, in the past, the general standard was higher because musical life was far more vibrant than it is today. Music was something people breathed, as naturally as they breathed the air.

Today, especially within the Church, musical opportunities have been drastically reduced, and the average level of musical preparation has declined accordingly. Those entrusted with these roles must have a thorough understanding of the place of music in the liturgy and be able to demonstrate that understanding through publications or similar evidence. It is not enough to be skilled at moving one’s fingers or waving one’s arms.

5. Liturgical chant needs models to follow, and Gregorian chant is the foremost among them.

We all need models to help us grow in life, and liturgical chant is no exception. It, too, needs models, and we know very well that we have them, first and foremost in Gregorian chant. If we truly wish to foster the development of liturgical chant in vernacular languages, it would be foolish to abandon the model of purity, dignity and composure that Gregorian chant offers us. This is precisely why it must never be forgotten.

I remember many years ago, as an organist, I used to play for the Rosary led by Pope John Paul II for Vatican Radio; we would sing some antiphons before the mysteries were recited. But for me personally, it was not a prayer that came naturally.

I rediscovered the Rosary, oddly enough, when Pope Francis invited the faithful to pray it on a particular occasion, I believe in 2019. I started with one mystery a day, and eventually managed to keep up with the daily rhythm of the canonical five mysteries. I pray it before going to bed, and often I fall asleep while saying the prayer. I consider this a good thing—I like falling asleep while praying. My hope is that the prayer stays with me throughout the night, along with the beautiful compline antiphon, whose Gregorian melody I’ve always loved: Salva nos, Domine vigilantes… “Save us, Lord, while we are awake; protect us while we sleep, that we may keep watch with Christ and rest in peace.” What a beautiful antiphon, brief yet deeply spiritual, much like all Gregorian chant.

Except for the announcement of the mysteries, I like to recite the Rosary entirely in Latin. As I do, I feel as if I am joining all the souls throughout time and space who have prayed this eminently contemplative prayer. I recall that the musicologist Jacques Viret, in one of his books, emphasized paying particular attention to the first “A” in the recitation of the Ave Maria—a vowel that seems to expand. In fact, in the practice of Tibetan monks, this sound is used as a tool to aid meditation.

The Rosary is not a prayer just for elderly women; it should be seen as a weapon. Exorcist Father Paolo Carlin explains why the Rosary is a formidable weapon against the devil:

“First: it is a prayer that expresses veneration and love for the Mother of God, who leads to Jesus. It honors the Holy Trinity, which is invoked five times within each set of mysteries, honors the Father through the recitation of the Our Father, and, most importantly, includes reflection on the Gospel through each mystery. The second element is human. The Rosary is a repetitive, constant prayer, and this brings about true transformations. Whoever starts the Rosary angry, finishes it in peace.”

As we can see, drawing from Tibetan prayer practices to explain the power of the letter “A” makes sense.

The intercession of the Blessed Virgin Mary is attributed to the Christian victory at Lepanto on October 7, 1571. St. Pius V, to commemorate this event, instituted the feast of Mary, Queen of Victory, on that day. His successor, Gregory XIII, renamed the feast in honor of Our Lady of the Rosary. Of course, it should not be thought that St. Pius V was not devoted to the Rosary. As a good Dominican, he promoted this prayer practice, issuing the Bull Consueverunt Romani Pontifices in 1569 to encourage Marian devotion. In this document, the Pope recalls the Rosary’s tradition among the Dominicans and the special Marian devotion of the Order's founder, as well as that of his predecessors. The Pope exhorts the faithful to follow these good examples:

“Following the example of our predecessors, seeing that the Church militant, which God has placed in our hands, in these our times is tossed this way and that by so many heresies, and is grievously troubled and afflicted by so many wars, and by the depravity of men’s morals, we also raise our eyes, weeping but full of hope, unto that same mountain, whence every aid comes forth, and we encourage and admonish each member of Christ’s faithful to do likewise in the Lord.”

The Rosary prayer, certainly, requires a pedagogy. It’s not as spontaneous as other prayers because it demands the ability to dedicate time to this pious practice. But if I managed to do it—and I’m no saint—others can too.

Benedict XVI, in the Angelus of October 7, 2007, said:

“The traditional image of Our Lady of the Rosary portrays Mary who with one arm supports the Child Jesus and with the other is offering the rosary beads to St. Dominic. This important iconography shows that the Rosary is a means given by the Virgin to contemplate Jesus and, in meditating on his life, to love him and follow him ever more faithfully. It is this message that Our Lady has also bequeathed to us in her various apparitions. I am thinking in particular of the apparition in Fatima that occurred 90 years ago. Presenting herself as ‘Our Lady of the Rosary,’ she insistently recommended the daily recitation of the Rosary to the three little shepherd children, Lucia, Jacinta, and Francisco, in order to obtain the end of the war. Let us also accept the Virgin’s motherly request, pledging to recite the Rosary with faith for peace in families, nations, and throughout the world.”

I believe that this desire is even more urgent today.

We know many stories about the amazing things that great composers could improvise. And even if we know nothing about their actual improvisations, precisely because there were no recordings at the time, we know at least what witnesses have told us. Improvisation, therefore, has always been a great part of music-making.

It is a pity that, in recent decades, this great discipline has experienced a significant decline in music, for many reasons that it is not possible to summarize here. But what is interesting is that we still cannot precisely answer the question with which we began. Like many questions of this kind, it is indeed very difficult: What is improvisation? What is music? What is love? Do you have a ready answer to these questions? If you do, you are really lucky, because all the people I know do not.

Improvisation Is Not Only About Music

But improvisation is not just a musical phenomenon. You may have heard about jazz musicians improvising, or about other similar things. You may be surprised to know that the concepts surrounding improvisation, and the ideas that foster this discipline, are much broader than their use in music. The ideas and concepts behind improvisation can teach you something about yourself, your career, and your life.

Whether you are a musician, a photographer, a creative artist, a businessman or businesswoman, or whatever your profession may be, improvisation is something that should concern you.

We may ask ourselves why people want to improvise. Jeff Pressing, an American professor who also worked in Australia, wrote a paper entitled Improvisation: Methods and Models, published in a 1987 book edited by J. Sloboda, Generative Processes in Music, by Oxford University Press. He wrote:

“How do people improvise? How is improvisational skill learned and taught? (…). They are difficult questions, for behind them stand long-standing philosophical quandaries like the origins of novelty and the nature of expertise, which trouble psychologists and artificial intelligence workers today almost as much as they did Plato and Socrates in the fourth and fifth centuries BC.”

Yes, indeed, he is right. These are very difficult questions, and we do not pretend to have ready answers to them. We can perhaps only approach those answers more closely by applying ourselves to understanding them.

Indeed, when we talk about improvisation, as I have already said, we are talking about many things at once, and we are dealing with a form of knowledge that is interdisciplinary.

Remember this, because it is very important: knowledge is interdisciplinary.

I do not know if you remember the Norton Lectures given by the great American conductor Leonard Bernstein at Harvard University several decades ago. In the first lecture, he said something that is exactly what I am telling you: things often have to be understood in different contexts. You can understand something better within one discipline by placing it in the context of another discipline.

So, what pushes people to find meaning in the act of creating without pre-planning? And why am I so interested in this topic myself?

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Few historical figures have been manipulated by mythology as much as Saint Francis. I was pleased to read some statements by the Bishop of Assisi, who is also a liturgist, Monsignor Domenico Sorrentino, in an interview conducted by the journalist Bruno Volpe for the blog Informazione Cattolica. In this interview, the Bishop stated, among other things:

"His greatest and most revolutionary gesture was to make himself materially poor, renouncing wealth, but not for show, rather out of faithful vocation and calling by the Lord. But be careful not to overly sentimentalize Francis, who, though loving and charitable, never cut corners. He rigorously followed the not-so-easy path of the Gospel, and we all know that obeying the Gospel is not only difficult but requires sacrifice, work, and even unpopular choices that make enemies and lead to isolation. It means going against the tide, but always with love toward all."

The Bishop was right to remind us of the risk that the superstructures built around Saint Francis could obscure his true greatness. His poverty was not a form of pauperism, and he was an authentic Christian, not the saccharine caricature that has emerged from certain films, speeches, or music.

It is important not to forget that a significant impulse to Franciscan studies was given by the historian Paul Sabatier (1858–1928), a Calvinist closely connected to Catholic modernist circles. Mario Niccoli frames him well, even if maybe is too benevolent, in the Enciclopedia Italiana:

"His theological training, influenced by the Protestant-liberal ideas of L.-A. Sabatier, along with his familiarity with Italian and French Catholic circles, led him to fully participate in the modernist movement (see his work Les modernistes, Paris 1909). He was even dubbed 'the pope of modernism,' though it should be noted that his involvement in modernism was mostly external and his spiritual formation, which developed independently of modernism, left him on the margins of the concerns that gave rise to the modernist movement within Catholic circles. When World War I broke out, Sabatier, against the pacifist stance of the Society of Franciscan Studies, publicly defended the ideals for which France had gone to war (see The Times, July 22, 1915)."

On the subject of misunderstandings surrounding Saint Francis, the scholar Guido Vignelli has spoken well in his important book Franciscan Catechism. In this text, he addresses several issues regarding Saint Francis, such as the one about pacifism:

"The meekness and gentleness of Francis have nothing to do with pacifism, even when purported as Catholic. Peace has become an idol for modern pacifists, to which they sacrifice their faith, duty, justice and Christian honour; they proclaim themselves ‘peace lovers’ and encourage parades at which they wave a multicoloured ‘banner of peace’, which has sectarian origins and anti-Christian significance. Those people delude themselves that the practices of ‘non-violence’, unilateral disarmament and unconditional surrender will ensure universal peace, but in reality this only favours the enemies of the Faith and of civilisation. Instead, the peace that St. Francis wished for and preached about was a spiritual peace, ensured by the conversion of the created to the Creator, by his submission to divine justice, by his imitation of Jesus Christ. In the famous phrase with which the Seraphic Father used to greet the faithful – “May the Lord give you peace!” – he expressed "…the highest wish that he could conceive: that of obtaining a peace of the soul in order to find God. Moreover, this was the aim of the entirety of his penitential preaching."In fact "…Franciscan peace is not the peace that a person finds in themselves, but the peace that a person finds in God when, … in the humility of absolute abandonment, they trust in God alone.""

Regarding the liturgy, it is also necessary to dispel another myth — the idea that Franciscanism promotes a sort of “liturgical pauperism”:

"Nor was St. Francis a ‘pauperist’ in the liturgical sense. On the contrary, he recommended that the poverty of his Rule should not impede the Order from ensuring decorous and possibly even lavish worship in churches, in homage to the regality of the Redeemer who is celebrated there:"But let all those who administer such most holy mysteries (…) [consider how] by many It is left in wretched places and carried disrespectfully, received unworthily and administered to others indiscriminately. (…) Let us then at once and resolutely correct these faults and others; and wheresoever the most holy Body of our Lord Jesus Christ may be improperly reserved and abandoned, let It be removed thence and let It be put and enclosed in a precious place." "And I will that these most holy mysteries be honoured and revered above all things  and that they be placed in precious places." "They ought to hold as precious the chalices, corporals, ornaments of the altar, and all that pertain to the Sacrifice.""

A great mystic of the past century, Don Divo Barsotti, also reflected on Saint Francis. His thoughts on the great saint are gathered in his book Saint Francis, Living Prayer. Divo Barsotti was one of the brightest Catholic minds in the recent history of the Church. Speaking of Saint Francis, he said, among other things:

"Blessed Thomas of Celano could write of Saint Francis that he was not so much a man who prayed but rather became all prayer: 'Not so much praying, but rather becoming prayer itself.' It is prayer that reveals the secret of his sanctity. His life of penance as a continual conversion, his life of love as communion with men, with the universe, and with God, and his life of poverty as an expression of freedom and total availability to God are aspects of a life that is essentially prayer. It is in prayer that he, living in contact with God, renews himself continuously, always longing for a more perfect imitation and transformation into the One he contemplates; it is in prayer that he lives this immense communion of love, which in God embraces the universe; it is in prayer that he experiences an irrepressible need for self-emptying: the poor man is the one who has even lost himself in order to know only the Beloved."

Perhaps we must agree with Father Barsotti that, to understand Saint Francis, we must necessarily understand his being completely immersed in prayer.

Holy Mass will be celebrated by H.E. Bishop Guerino Di Tora, assisted by Deacon Massimiliano Floridi. The music will be composed and directed by Maestro Aurelio Porfiri, Master of the Chapel and organist of Santa Maria in Cappella.

On this occasion, Porfiri’s new Missa Orbis Factor will also be performed. Written for three female voices a cappella, it alternates with Gregorian chant. The celebration will therefore bring together the presence of the new organ and the broader tradition of the Church’s musical heritage, placing Gregorian chant alongside contemporary polyphony.

Santa Maria in Cappella is not an ordinary church. It is a place with a history stretching back almost a thousand years, closely connected with the history of Rome and, in particular, with the history of the Pamphilj family and subsequently of the Doria Pamphilj family. In 1654, Pope Innocent X Pamphilj entrusted the church to his family through Donna Olimpia Maidalchini Pamphilj. To this day, the church remains in the possession of the Doria Pamphilj family.

For more than a year, Aurelio Porfiri has served as organist and Master of the Chapel at Santa Maria in Cappella. The church is also home to the cultural association Romaeterna Cantores, directed by Porfiri and dedicated to the promotion of the Roman musical tradition, both sacred and secular.

The church already housed an important French harmonium built by André Rousseau (1827–1915), a renowned builder whose workshop was located in the Faubourg Saint-Germain in Paris. It is a sizeable instrument, the second largest model listed in Rousseau’s catalogue, and one distinguished by a number of interesting technical innovations. About a year ago, the harmonium underwent restoration work, allowing it to be preserved and returned to musical use.

Alongside this historic instrument, however, there had long been a desire to have a genuine pipe organ. The search was not easy. Pipe organs involve considerable costs, and many of the instruments that were found did not meet the requirements of the project, whether because of their technical characteristics, condition, or financial demands.

A conversation between Aurelio Porfiri and the Roman organ builder Stefano Buccolini proved decisive. Buccolini told him about an instrument that was being kept in storage after having been dismantled during renovation work at the church where it had previously been installed.

Thanks to the generosity of Princess Gesine Doria Pamphilj and her husband, Deacon Massimiliano Floridi, it was possible to reach an agreement with the previous owners and give this valuable instrument a new life.

The organ is a typical Italian instrument, built by Nicola Raimondi of Todi, who lived in the eighteenth century and is considered by some scholars to have belonged to the Venetian school. Not much is known about this organ builder, but the instrument now becoming part of the history of Santa Maria in Cappella possesses characteristics of considerable interest.

The keyboard has nine stops, and both the keyboard and the pedalboard are constructed according to the ancient system known as the short octave, or ottava scavezza. This construction method is no longer used today, but was once widespread in keyboard instruments.

The short octave made it possible to extend the lower range of the keyboard without proportionally increasing the number of keys. Formally, the keyboard begins on E, but the lowest E key produces C; the F-sharp key produces D, and the G-sharp key produces E. In this way, some of the notes most frequently required in early music, particularly C and D, could be provided in the lowest register, while notes with accidentals, which were much less frequently used, were omitted from this portion of the keyboard.

This technical detail helps to explain how closely the construction of an early organ was connected with the concrete musical requirements of its time.

The new organ also acquires a particular significance when the musical history of Santa Maria in Cappella is considered. Research carried out by Aurelio Porfiri in the Doria Pamphilj archives appears to indicate that, at least from the time when the Pamphilj family took possession of the church, there was never a permanent organ there.

In the inventories of the church’s furnishings, in fact, no organ is mentioned either in documents dating from around 1654 or in those from the nineteenth century. At the beginning of the nineteenth century, however, expenses are recorded for “singers for Solemn Mass” and for an “organ for the feast of Our Lady of the Sea.” It is likely that portable instruments or organs hired temporarily for the occasion were being used. An inventory from 1814 is particularly clear in stating: “there is no organ.”

The history of the church is also closely connected with music because, between the end of the eighteenth century and the first half of the nineteenth century, it was entrusted to the Pia Unione San Paolo Apostolo, which had been granted the use of the church by the Doria Pamphilj princes. Founded by the Jesuit Luigi Felici, the congregation devoted much of its apostolic activity to sailors, partly because of the church’s proximity to the port of Ripa Grande.

This explains the particular devotion to Our Lady of the Sea. The congregation also had a special interest in music, promoting the printing and dissemination of sacred songs intended for sailors, with the aim of replacing the licentious songs that were often associated with port life.

Santa Maria in Cappella therefore preserves a history shaped by faith, devotion, music, charity, and tradition. The devotion to Saint Aurelia, for whom a particularly elaborate ceremony was held and described in an archival document, also bears witness to the richness of the religious life that developed in this place over the centuries.

The arrival of a pipe organ therefore means much more than simply adding a new musical instrument. It represents the restoration to the church of a musical possibility which, according to the historical research available, it had never possessed in a permanent form.

It is certainly a cause for hope to see a church choosing to acquire a pipe organ at a time when, in many other churches, historic organs are sadly being abandoned and left to deteriorate through neglect or lack of care.

An organ, however, does not live merely because it is restored or installed in a church. It lives when it is played. It lives when it accompanies prayer. It lives when it supports the singing of the congregation, when it dialogues with voices, when it interprets the ancient repertoire, and when it inspires new compositions.

For this reason, the inauguration on 4 October will not simply be the inauguration of an instrument. It will mark the beginning of a new chapter in the musical history of Santa Maria in Cappella.

Aurelio Porfiri’s Missa Orbis Factor, with its three female voices a cappella alternating with Gregorian chant, is intended to form part of precisely this perspective: tradition not as something dead and merely museum-like, but as a living reality still capable of generating new music and new liturgical life today.

The inauguration of the new organ will therefore be an occasion in which history, art, faith, and music come together in one of the oldest and most evocative places in Trastevere.

Sunday, 4 October 2026, Santa Maria in Cappella, Trastevere.

A new organ.
An ancient church.
The voice of Gregorian chant.
New music.
And above all, music at the service of the liturgy.

A small instrument reborn in an ancient Roman church as a sign of hope.

This prayer has accompanied generations of Catholics and has nourished devotion to one's Guardian Angel, as this angel is a singular presence in our lives. Unlike patron saints, who are not "personal" to us individually, each of us has a specific Guardian Angel, a celestial being tasked with illuminating, guarding, ruling, and guiding our life, both in good and in bad times. We can imagine the angel fighting for us when we give in to temptation or when we feel overwhelmed and seem to lose control of our lives.

We might also think of times when we feel disillusioned with how things are going in the Church, when it seems that she doesn’t provide the spiritual nourishment we need, or when we see her lost in her own weaknesses, as though mired in confusion. Even in such cases, the Guardian Angel urges us to give our faith another chance, not to give in to the disgust we sometimes feel (and not without reason) when observing how the Church, despite many proclamations, is still entangled in a dismal clericalism that some priests have every interest in maintaining. On this point, the Guardian Angel truly has a tough task: keeping us from abandoning everything, helping us not to succumb to the disgust we feel when we see the rampant careerism of certain men of God, who cloak their reprehensible actions with good intentions and pious sentiments.

Dom Prosper Guéranger provides an effective summary of the Guardian Angel's role in our lives:

"The Guardian Angel’s duty is to ward off danger, sustain the person in their struggle against the devil, inspire holy thoughts, keep them away from evil, correct them, pray for them, and present their prayers to God. This task is so delicate that the Angel does not simultaneously watch over multiple individuals. At the end of the person’s life, the Angel gathers the soul they had in their care and, after judgment, takes it to the place it deserves, whether Heaven or a temporary place of purification and atonement.”

It is beautiful and comforting to think that a divine being constantly stands by our side, even when we feel deeply alone and abandoned. Even when we fall into temptation and sin, we know that the angel is near, ready to welcome us back after repentance.

Guéranger, among others, cites St. Bernard of Clairvaux, who, in his commentary on Psalm 90, says:

“How many difficulties overcome thanks to the angels' hands go almost unnoticed, leaving only the fleeting impression of a nightmare that has quickly vanished.”

This idea of the angels’ hands concretely at work in our lives is beautiful. We associate hands with action, with practical work; to think that a presence is actively involved in our lives—not to limit our freedom, but to help us avoid the wrong path or to comfort us in times of suffering—is beneficial to us.

In a sort of prayer at the end of his commentary on the feast of the Guardian Angels, Guéranger invoked:

“In the great cities and on the roads of the world, where we meet only strangers or enemies, solitude weighs heavily on the hearts of God’s children, but even if the number of the righteous has diminished, your number has not decreased.”

Another saint particularly devoted to the Guardian Angels was St. John Bosco, who dedicated a book to the subject, The Devout of the Guardian Angel, written in 1845 when he was still a young priest. The treatise, with a clear catechetical purpose, offers reflections on various topics connected with the role of Guardian Angels in our lives, followed by practical exhortations and examples to foster devotion. For this purpose, St. John Bosco urges us to revive our awareness of the angel’s presence:

“If a friend is with us, every duty requires that we turn to him from time to time, speak to him politely, and treat him as a friend. Frequently revive your faith in the presence of your Angel, who is with you wherever you are.”

In the noise of our lives, let us try to make room for the one to whom we are entrusted, who helps us to gather the broken pieces along the troubled paths of our existence.

Together with Vincent Warnier, he is one of the titular organists of the grand organ at the beautiful church of Saint-Étienne-du-Mont, a church very dear to me, located near the Panthéon. Maurice Duruflé served as organist there, and his home was—and still is—directly opposite the church.

In our conversation, we discuss how to plan an improvisation, but also the appreciation David Cassan receives for his service in the churches where he works. This is important because organists are not always appreciated for what they do, and this is a regrettable failure to respect the principles of the Church’s social teaching.

My first question is: what comes to mind when you think about improvisation?

“Improvisation is a very special way of playing an instrument. For me, improvisation is a way of speaking freely through music. When you learn a language—if you are French, you learn French; if you are Italian, you learn Italian—you become fluent in your own language. And because you know the language, you know the vocabulary, the words, the grammar, and you are able to speak freely, without preparation. I think it is the same with music. If you learn music, you become fluent in music. You can say something interesting or not so interesting, but you can speak without any preparation, just as I am doing now. It is the same. Of course, you can try to express something very powerful, very intelligent, very well organized. Or sometimes you can simply play something very simple, very short, without any pretension. But that is improvisation. It is your reaction, your feeling. Afterwards, it can become more complex if you start thinking about a particular style or form.”

Would you say that you are a trained improviser, or were you born an improviser?

“For me, I would say that it is very natural. In fact, I never tried to become an improviser. I simply started to do it. When I was young, I always wanted to play organ. Of course, I studied piano first and then organ, but I immediately began improvising, and it was not difficult for me. It was natural. Later, I tried to develop my skills by learning many different styles, many forms, and many other things. But when I started, it simply came naturally to me. Sometimes, people need help to begin improvising, or simply to find a way into improvisation. For me, it was different. When I saw a piano, a harpsichord, or an organ, I just wanted to touch the keyboard and play. So I was naturally attracted by keyboards.”

Would you say that you are primarily a free improviser, or do you prefer to improvise à la manière de—in the style of a particular composer—or within different musical genres? What kind of improviser are you?

“It depends on the instrument… When I played the organ as a young man, I improvised in the style of Vivaldi and Handel. That was really my thing. I loved that music and listened to it a lot. The first organ I played was a Baroque instrument. In fact, I connected the style of improvisation with the style of the organ. But when I improvised on the piano at home, the sonority of the piano was of course different. I improvised more in the style of perhaps Debussy or something like Arvo Pärt. Very calm, very meditative, with a lot of resonance, long chords, just a few notes and a modal character. In fact, I adapt my style to the organ or to the piano. It depends on the instrument. But I never had just one style. I simply did something different according to my feelings. At that time, I did not know the rules of music. I just had this feeling in my mind: ‘An organ needs to sound like this,’ or ‘a piano needs to sound more like that.’ I was not really aware of it. It was simply a sensation.”

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For more than a year now, I have had the pleasure of serving as organist and Maestro di Cappella at this church, which is also home to my cultural association, Romaeterna Cantores. The church housed a French harmonium made by André Rousseau (1827–1915), a renowned builder whose workshop was located in the Faubourg Saint-Germain, now part of Paris’s seventh arrondissement. It is a harmonium of some importance, which underwent restoration work about a year ago. André Rousseau’s instruments are also significant for certain technical innovations, and the instrument currently at Santa Maria in Cappella is a fairly large model, the second-largest in Rousseau’s catalogue.

That said, there was a felt need for an authentic pipe organ, and the search was not easy, since the cost of pipe organs is very high and the instruments we found, for one reason or another, did not fit within our budget.

A conversation I had with the Roman organ builder Stefano Buccolini brought to my attention an instrument that had been lying in storage after he had dismantled it during renovation work on the church where it had previously stood. Thanks to the generosity of Princess Gesine Doria Pamphilj and her husband, Deacon Massimiliano Floridi, we were able to reach an agreement with the previous owners and acquire the instrument.

It is a typical Italian organ built by the organ builder Nicola Raimondi of Todi, in Umbria, who lived in the eighteenth century and is considered by some to have belonged to the Venetian school. Not very much is known about this organ builder, who was active in Umbria. We can say that the instrument now belonging to our church has a keyboard with nine stops. Both the keyboard and the pedalboard have a short octave, known in Italian as a scavezza, an ancient construction method in which the first keys on the left—formally beginning with E—were assigned different pitches. Thus, pressing the E key, for example, produces C, while the F-sharp and G-sharp keys correspond to D and E respectively. A text by Chiara Pisati, available online, explains this particular technical arrangement as follows:

It is certainly a cause for great hope that our church has decided to acquire a pipe organ at a time when, in many churches, we sadly witness organs being allowed to die through neglect and abandonment.

In the course of my research in the Doria Pamphilj archives, I have come to believe that there had never been a permanent organ in the church, at least from the time when the Pamphilj family took possession of it. In some inventories of the furnishings present in the church, the organ is not mentioned, either around the time of 1654 or in the nineteenth century. It is true that, at the beginning of the nineteenth century, expenses are recorded for “singers for the sung Mass” and also for an “organ for the feast of Our Lady of the Sea.” These were probably portable organs hired for the occasion, since an inventory from 1814 states quite clearly that “there is no organ.”

Between the end of the eighteenth century and the first half of the nineteenth century, the church was entrusted to the Pia Unione San Paolo Apostolo, which used it by concession of the Doria Pamphilj princes. The congregation had been founded by the Jesuit Luigi Felici, and its apostolate at Santa Maria in Cappella was particularly directed towards sailors, owing to the church’s proximity to the port of Ripa Grande—hence the particular devotion to Our Lady of the Sea. The congregation also had an interest in music, promoting the printing of sacred songs to be taught to sailors, precisely in order to replace the licentious songs that were often widespread among them.

There was also a particular devotion to Saint Aurelia, for whom an elaborate ceremony was held, described in a document preserved in the archive.

Surely the parish priest will tell you that the organ was a pagan instrument that had been Christianized and this can also happen, for example, for the guitar. This is only partially true, and like all half-truths it becomes a falsehood.

The hydraulic organ used by the ancients was an ancestor of the modern organ but it has changed from profane use to sacred, something that we cannot say for example for the guitar in which profane use is still largely prevalent. An instrument for which profane use is still a large part of its use cannot become sacred.

The problem here is not the guitar, which is a very noble instrument if used well. Unfortunately this is not the experience we have in the liturgy. I may have been particularly unlucky, but in my approximately 40 years of involvement, do you know how many times I have witnessed the use of the guitar in the liturgy by a professional? One.

Then, there is no doubt that the organ is a much better instrument for supporting everyone's singing. But how come, they always say that we need to make the assembly sing and we don't favor the instrument that best supports their singing? This is one of the countless contradictions we have to witness.

That sometimes some adequate instruments can be introduced into the liturgy is not a problem. But the organ, as stated by the long teaching tradition of the Church, must always have priority over all others.

And the organist must be someone who knows how to play it, and we will talk about this later. We need to invest in organists, continuing with this economic disengagement won't get anywhere. Those who understand the tragic level we have now reached must realize that it is no longer time to suffer, but it is time to act without reverential fears towards bishops and priests. Unfortunately, those who are called to guide the people of God in matters of liturgical music are profoundly ignorant and therefore very little can be expected from them.

This is the first time I have ever interviewed a non-human entity such as an organ mixture…

“Take courage! We are not really as frightening as we may seem. It is true that, when we are summoned, our sound fills the church and we can therefore make quite an impression. But we are actually rather good-natured… And besides, how do you explain the fact that this ‘non-human entity’, as you call us, can awaken in you humans the most tender or the most powerful of feelings?”

I cannot deny that. But don’t you ever grow tired of playing so loudly?

“My dear fellow, when we are called upon, we must answer. The problem is that sometimes we are summoned when we really have no business being there. There was an organist here who accompanied every single hymn with our participation. It was rather exhausting, even for the ears of the poor faithful. We are like the icing on the cake: delightful, perhaps, but only when used with intelligence.”

Indeed, you are right. There are organists who seem to play with the mixture permanently engaged…

“In very large churches, there is certainly nothing wrong with using us more generously. We know that you were once one of the organists of St Peter’s Basilica, and in a place like that, it takes quite a lot to fill the space…”

You even know about my career. I am honoured. I must tell you, though, that when I was playing there, there was a certain hypersensitivity to loud sounds…

“That is partly the consequence of the Romantic notion of celestial sounds descending from some distant realm. In reality, the sound of a bourdon, a principal, or a flute can be wonderfully beautiful. But when the time comes to raise one’s voice, well… that is when we are needed too!”

Indeed, you add a majesty that truly fills the heart and, when properly measured, can have a most imposing effect upon the faithful…

“And, as you know, not all organ mixtures are created equal. Our timbre and our quality can vary enormously.”

You are absolutely right. When I was organist at the beautiful church of Santa Maria dell’Orto here in Rome, at the end of the 1990s, I played a nineteenth-century organ built in 1861 by the organ builder Pietro Pantanella. And the quality of that mixture was extraordinary. I still carry its sound in my heart. If I had to describe it, I would say it was an intense mixture, possessing a magnificent inner strength.

“What beautiful words! They almost move us to tears. The Italian mixture does indeed possess a character all its own. It is a kind of sound born of the fraternity that exists among us, the pipes of Italian organs. The mixtures of our French cousins are beautiful too, of course, though they certainly possess a different character.”

It also depends on the organ builders. Each one brings something of his own to the instrument…

“Fortunately! Otherwise, how terribly monotonous the world would be. In this way, the same music can acquire ever-changing sonorities, continually renewing the experience of listening.”

Thank you for your words. I shall carry them with me always.

“The pleasure was entirely ours.”

The church was about to close. From that day on, I knew that I would never again look at the façade of an organ quite the same way.

Thierry Escaich is a very well-known musician, as well as a professor at the Conservatoire. His career as an organist has included the beautiful church of Saint-Étienne-du-Mont, where he succeeded the great Maurice Duruflé. Since 2024, he has been one of the organists of the renowned Notre-Dame Basilica in Paris.

I would like to ask you whether you consider yourself a born improviser or a trained improviser.

“I think I consider myself a born improviser, because my first contact with music was through improvisation, when I was maybe four years old, perhaps even younger. Before I learned to play an instrument, I discovered by myself the sound of a little piano, and also a little toy accordion. I tried to build chords, melodies; I repeated melodies I had heard on television. My first contact with music was through improvisation. Only four or five years later did I begin to study an instrument technically.”

So your first contact was with improvisation, but was it immediately connected with the Church—with organ improvisation—or did you come to that much later?

“No, my first contact was not with organ music. It was with accordion music, in fact, because my first instrument was a little toy accordion. By myself, I transcribed popular music, variety music—tangos, waltzes, disco music. That was my first musical world: popular music. Then, progressively, I accompanied my parents to church for Mass, and I discovered the sound of the organ perhaps a year or two later. Gradually, I began to improvise on the organ. Before that it had been the accordion and popular music; then came organ music, Gregorian chant, Catholic hymns, and so on. I was four or five when I began improvising, and I was six or seven when I discovered the organ.”

I know that we are more or less the same age—I am only one year older than you. So I imagine that you began playing in church at a time when the liturgy was already changing. It was no longer the Latin liturgy as it had been, but increasingly a liturgy with vernacular hymns and so on. I would like to know what your reaction was to this kind of change, when it seemed that there was less and less space for traditional organ and choral music.

“At that age, I was perhaps seven, so I was not really aware of this change. I discovered music through the modern songs. Sometimes they were very nice songs, and sometimes they were very bad songs. My job was to transform them, to improve them a little, and I discovered the work of harmonizing. There was little Gregorian chant, but very, very little—some of the Gloria, something like that. In the 1960s and at the beginning of the 1970s, Gregorian chant was rather pushed aside. I had a little contact with it, but it was more like a shadow. My experience was therefore accompanying Masses and accompanying these songs, trying to transform them and improve them.”

And of course, later you came into greater contact with Gregorian chant. So I would like to know: how important is Gregorian chant in your improvisation?

“I think Gregorian chant became important to me more as a composer. When I progressively discovered Gregorian chant, particularly when I was a teenager, I integrated it into my compositions, including orchestral works. My first orchestral piece, for instance, is Kyrie d’une Messe imaginaire. It was written in the 1990s, something like that, and I integrated a Gregorian chant into it because I was fascinated by Gregorian chant. I was not aware of it in an intellectual or scholarly way; I had no real knowledge of Gregorian chant. For me it was like a memory, like a shadow. I was very attracted to it, but I was not a specialist in Gregorian chant. I first integrated it into my written music, and progressively I integrated it into my improvisation, as a kind of paraphrase. So, at first, Gregorian chant entered my musical language as a composer.”

You know that the two main categories of improvisation are improvisation à la manière de and free improvisation. Do you think these two are connected, or are they two separate skills?

“They are completely connected. When I teach at the conservatory, part of the lesson is devoted to improvising à la manière de. We improvise in Baroque style, Romantic style, early music style, and so on. My job is to develop creativity, and I have to push the students to discover their own language. I can help them to build this language by transmitting my experience—my rhythmic experience, my experience of colour. For me there is no separation. It is not divided. It is completely integrated. When I improvise, for instance, at Notre-Dame de Paris, it is the same thing. I change the style, but it is also my music. When I improvise in Baroque style, or in Romantic style, that Romantic style is sometimes very close to Mahler or Bruckner. But it is the basis of my own language. It is not completely a pastiche. When I improvise in Romantic style at Notre-Dame or in a concert, I improvise in my own style, because my style also comes from that music. If you look at the music of Messiaen, you can hear Fauré and Franck. When I hear Messiaen, I hear Fauré and Franck within his music. And when you look at my written music, you can hear Franck, Ravel, and so on. When I improvise in an Impressionist style, like Ravel or Debussy, I also improvise a little bit in my own style. I simply incorporate part of this musical language. This legacy of those composers has become part of my language.

It is not easier or more difficult. It is the same thing for me. And when I improvise directly in my own language, as a composer, I can still see the legacy of the music of the past. It is very clear to me. There is no real separation.”

So, when you teach your students to improvise à la manière de Bach, for example, how do you teach them the style of Bach? What are the main points that you want to communicate to help them master that kind of style—or Romantic style, or whatever style you are working on?

“When I teach Baroque style, I don’t say Bach. I say that we improvise in the Baroque style, and more specifically in the German Baroque style, because otherwise it would be too narrow. For me, it is very interesting when you practise Baroque music and fugue, for instance, to teach students to improvise against academicism. It is very interesting to push my students to improvise a fugue with three or four voices and, at the same time, to find the means to avoid becoming academic, to find freedom within something as difficult and structured as a fugue. I try to push them in that direction. It is very important for me that they find freedom within this expression.

If they can do that, then when they improvise completely freely afterwards, they can control exactly what they hear and what they are thinking. At the same time, they can avoid one of the problems of many improvisers: the same chords, the same arpeggios.

For me, that is not enough. When you improvise, it has to be your own style. You have to find your own language. You have to have this background—the solfège, the fugue, the different forms—and with this background you can deepen your style. You can improve. If you have this background in fugue and in different forms, it gives greater depth to your improvisation.”

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If one thinks that those who prefer to attend Mass according to the rite reformed by St Pius V are a problem, then ultimately one is refusing to look the real issue in the face. In my view, this issue can only be addressed by considering traditionalism as a symptom of something and, perhaps, also as an opportunity.

The fact that a certain number of people choose to travel even to churches far from their homes in order to attend a Traditional Latin Mass should perhaps raise the question of what is wrong with the way the Mass of St Paul VI is celebrated. And believe me, there is a great deal that is wrong. One need only enter our parishes to realize quite easily that the “Mass of the Council” in eight cases out of ten (and I am being optimistic) does not respect at all what is prescribed by Sacrosanctum Concilium and, indeed, goes against many of its prescriptions.

I have had, and continue to have, friendships with liturgists who have fought for the Novus Ordo, some of whom were even directly involved in its birth. Yet even they, certainly not people who could be suspected of traditionalism, have told me that much of the liturgy we attend today has very little to do with the intentions of those who promoted the reform.

How much have I written about the devastation of sacred music in the liturgy? And this is not a question of Latin; it concerns above all the extremely poor quality of much of the music that has been introduced into the liturgy, music that has degraded the liturgy itself and irreparably damaged the liturgical taste of the faithful.

To convince ourselves that the bad guys are the traditionalists, who are in any case a tiny minority compared with the total number of Catholics, means refusing to confront the real problem: the betrayal of the liturgical reform which, despite the good intentions of some, has run aground in the waters of superficiality and mediocrity.

We should have the courage to concern ourselves less with the traditionalists and more with how to bring the liturgical reform back to its original intentions, which have their deep roots in the work of Dom Prosper Guéranger. The “Mass of the Council,” in reality, remains a chimera in far too many of our churches.

Thus, after the feast of the Nativity of the Blessed Virgin, the Church dedicates a day to honor the holy name of Mary, teaching us through the Liturgy and the teachings of the saints all the spiritual riches this name holds for us. Like the name of Jesus, it is meant to be on our lips and in our hearts.

History of the Feast

The feast of the holy name of Mary was granted by Rome in 1513 to a diocese in Spain, Cuenca. Suppressed by Saint Pius V, it was restored by Sixtus V and later extended in 1671 to the Kingdom of Naples and Milan. On September 12, 1683, after John Sobieski and his Polish troops defeated the Turks who were besieging Vienna and threatening Christianity, Pope Innocent XI, in thanksgiving, extended the feast to the universal Church and set it on the Sunday within the Octave of the Nativity. Saint Pope Pius X later restored it to September 12.

A Name from the Heart of God

Beyond the historical remembrance of the institution of the feast, what interests us most is the meaning of the blessed name given to the future Mother of God and our own.

Among the Jews, a name held great importance and was usually given with solemnity. We know from Scripture that God sometimes intervened in the designation of a name to be given to one of His servants. The Angel Gabriel informed Zechariah that his son would be named John, and he also told Joseph, explaining the Incarnation of the Word: "You shall name Him Jesus." Therefore, we can think that God, in some way, intervened so that the name appropriate to her greatness and dignity would be given to the Blessed Virgin. Joachim and Anne named their daughter Mary, a name so dear to us.

"Your name is oil poured out."

The saints have delighted in comparing the name of Mary to that of Jesus. Saint Bernard had applied the Song of Songs to the Lord: "Your name is oil poured out" (Song of Songs 1:3), because oil provides light, nourishment, and healing. Richard of Saint Lawrence also says: "The name of Mary is compared to oil because, after the name of Jesus, it surpasses all other names; it invigorates the weak, softens the hardened, heals the sick, gives light to the blind, strengthens the weak, anoints for new battles, breaks the bondage of the devil, and, just as oil surpasses every other liquid, so it surpasses every other name" (On the Praises of the Blessed Virgin Mary, Book II, Chapter 2).

Other Interpretations

More than sixty-seven different interpretations have been given to the name of Mary, depending on whether it is considered of Egyptian, Syrian, Hebrew origin, or as a simple or compound name. We will not dwell on all these interpretations but instead choose the four main ones reported by ancient writers. "The name of Mary," says Saint Albert the Great, "has four meanings: illuminator, star of the sea, bitter sea, lady or queen" (Commentary on Saint Luke, 1:27).

Illuminator

Mary is the Immaculate Virgin whose life was never overshadowed by sin; she is the woman clothed with the sun; she is "the one whose glorious life has enlightened all the Churches" (Liturgy); and finally, she is the one who gave the world the true light, the light of life.

Star of the Sea

The liturgy greets her in the hymn, so poetic and popular, "Ave Maris Stella" (Hail, Star of the Sea) and again in the Antiphon of Advent and Christmastide: "Alma Redemptoris Mater." We know that the star of the sea is the polar star, the brightest, highest, and ultimate star of those that form the Little Dipper, so close to the pole that it appears motionless and maintains an almost unchanging position during long nights. For this reason, it is of great use for navigation on the celestial map, guiding sailors when they lack a compass.

Likewise, Mary, among creatures, is the highest in dignity, the most beautiful, the closest to God, unchanging in her love and purity. She is for us an example of all virtues, illuminating our lives and teaching us the way out of darkness to reach God, the true light.

Bitter Sea

Mary is the "bitter sea" in the sense that, in her maternal goodness, she makes the earthly pleasures that seek to deceive us and make us forget the true and only good seem bitter. She is also the "bitter sea" in that, during the Passion of her Son, her heart was pierced by the sword of sorrow. She is a sea because, like the sea, she is inexhaustible. The goodness and generosity of Mary for all her children are boundless. The drops of water in the sea can only be counted by the infinite knowledge of God, and we can only faintly suspect the immense sum of graces that God has deposited in the blessed soul of Mary, from the moment of the Immaculate Conception to her glorious Assumption into heaven.

Lady or Queen

Mary is truly, as she is called in France, Our Lady. Lady means Queen, Sovereign. Mary is truly Queen because she is the holiest of all creatures, the Mother of Him who is King by virtue of Creation, Incarnation, and Redemption. Associated with the Redeemer in all His mysteries, she is gloriously united with Him in heaven, body and soul, and eternally blessed, she continually intercedes for us, applying to our souls the merits she acquired before Him and the graces of which she is made mediator and dispenser.

Saint Bernard's Discourse

Let us pray to the Blessed Virgin that she may realize for us the various meanings that saints and doctors have given to her blessed name, concluding with the end of Saint Bernard's second homily on the Gospel of the Annunciation:

"And the name of the Virgin was Mary. Let us say something about this name, which means star of the sea. It perfectly fits the Mother of God because, just as a star emits its rays, so the Virgin conceives her Son. The ray does not diminish the brightness of the star, and the Son does not diminish the virginity of the Mother. A noble star risen from Jacob, whose ray illuminates the world, shining in the heavens, penetrating the abyss, traversing the earth. It warms more than bodies, souls; it dries up vice, it makes virtue fruitful. Yes, Mary is the shining and unmatched star necessary on the vast sea, sparkling with merits and illuminating our lives with her example.

Whoever you are, feeling like you are not walking on firm ground but in the midst of a swirling storm in the ebb and flow of life, do not take your eyes off the shining star, lest you be swallowed by the storm. If the storm of temptations rises, if the rocks of tribulations appear, look at the star and invoke Mary. If you are tossed by the waves of pride, ambition, slander, or jealousy, look at the star and invoke Mary. If anger, greed, the allure of the flesh, shake the ship of your soul, turn your eyes to Mary. Troubled by the enormity of your guilt, ashamed of yourself, trembling at the approach of the terrible judgment, feeling the whirlpool of sadness opening beneath your feet or the abyss of despair, think of Mary. In dangers, in distress, in doubt, think of Mary, invoke Mary.

Let Mary be ever on your lips, ever in your heart, and strive to imitate her to secure her help. By following her, you will not go astray; by praying to her, you will not despair; by thinking of her, you will not lose your way. Supported by her, you will not fall; protected by her, you will not be afraid; guided by her, you will not tire: he who is helped by her reaches the goal safely. Thus, experience in yourself the good established in this word: 'And the name of the Virgin was Mary.'"

In dom Prosper Guéranger, L'anno liturgico. - II. Tempo Pasquale e dopo la Pentecoste.

The life of a liturgical musician can be summed up as a series of continual struggles with priests who lack the tools to understand the importance of music in the liturgy. Certainly, there are also inadequate church musicians, but they too are the product of a clergy that does not give the liturgy the importance it deserves.

I smiled when I watched a video of the great French organist Jean Langlais (1907–1991), in which he recounted his encounters with other great French organists. At one point, speaking about Louis Vierne (1870–1937), organist of Notre-Dame in Paris, he related how Vierne had expressed the wish that, after his death, his remains should not be blessed by the priests of Notre-Dame. Not that Vierne was a simple person—quite the contrary—but it is true that priests often do not help musicians develop their potential for the good of the liturgy; rather, they become an obstacle to it.

The problem certainly lies partly in a society that places very little value on musical education, but it also lies in the poor education that today’s priests receive in seminaries. At least during those formative years, they should be exposed to the Church’s musical tradition so that they can develop their musical taste. Very often, however, this is not the case. They are taught some pseudo-liturgical music that is the poorly digested product of the atmosphere of the 1970s. And still, people continue to refuse to see the problem: a reform of the liturgy is demanded without providing those who are supposed to implement it with the tools necessary to prevent the liturgy and sacred music from being degraded.

The problem is that the good of the liturgy is not being defended; rather, an ideological approach to the liturgy is being defended, one that is imposed as though it were the will of the Council, when in many respects it actually betrays the Council itself. I imagine that the words of Leo XIV at an audience a few weeks ago, when he spoke about Chapter VI of Sacrosanctum Concilium, the chapter concerning sacred music, must have sounded to many priests—and to those who are allowed to be responsible for music in the liturgy without possessing the necessary competence—like an unknown language sounds to our ears: incomprehensible.

Gregorian chant? Organ? Polyphony? The Church’s musical heritage?

Certainly, at this point, what is really needed is the courage to examine this question in depth. But when I look around me, I do not seem to see people willing to go beyond the myth and look squarely at the reality of what the liturgy has become in the Catholic Church.

How dear your name is to those who are interested in music for the liturgy. The Church's chant has been named after you, and to honor you, we all call it "Gregorian chant," even though this repertoire developed a few centuries after your death. Nonetheless, it is a good thing that your name is associated with this chant, and it is also quite fitting that you are the patron, along with Saint Cecilia, of sacred music. Many stories are linked to your glorious name, connected with liturgy and music, from your liturgical reforms to the dove (the Holy Spirit) whispering liturgical melodies in your ear, from the Antiphonary chained to Saint Peter's altar to your care for the Schola Cantorum.

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The story of the Antiphonary is beautiful—how you had it bound to Saint Peter's altar with a golden chain, symbolizing the close union between music and liturgy. It’s an edifying story, though some doubt it, as it was told by John the Deacon, who wrote your biography but two centuries after your death. Yet, medieval authors took up this story and spread it. True or not? As you well know, there are authors who question your role in sacred music, such as Gevaert, who was countered by the Benedictine Germain Morin. Whatever the case, as a musician, I am honored to call you my co-patron alongside Saint Cecilia.

You were a wise man who found himself active in a terrible time in the life of Rome and the Church. Despite not being in robust health, through your words and teachings, you guided the ship of Peter through stormy seas.

You, who are a powerful intercessor, intercede for today's liturgy and sacred music, that they may continue to shine like "the Bride's ring" (the title of a beautiful book on liturgy by Crispino Valenziano). May those who wish to implement liturgical reform interpret it as the fruit of the Council and its documents, not in light of hermeneutics or ideologies that have little or nothing to do with the Council. Always remind us all that a step forward is always guaranteed by the foot that is behind. Moving forward in lockstep only allows for covering a very short distance.

Intercede so that skilled and well-prepared musicians, rooted in Tradition, can make the song of praise flourish again in our churches, rising to God like incense and helping us sanctify our lives of faith. Let us rediscover that sense of adoration and reverence. Your successor, Pope Francis, speaking about the Eastern Churches and responding to a journalist in 2013, said:

"In the Orthodox Churches, they have preserved that pristine liturgy, so beautiful. We have lost a bit of the sense of adoration. They maintain it, they praise God, they adore God, they sing, time does not matter. The center is God, and this is a richness that I would like to mention on this occasion when you ask me this question. Once, speaking about the Western Church, Western Europe, especially the more developed Church, I was told this phrase: 'Lux ex oriente, ex occidente luxus.' Consumerism, well-being, have done us much harm. Instead, you maintain this beauty of God at the center, the reverence. When you read Dostoevsky—I believe that for all of us, he should be an author to read and reread because he has wisdom—you perceive what the Russian soul, the Eastern soul, is. It is something that will do us much good. We need this renewal, this fresh air from the East, this light from the East. John Paul II wrote about it in his Letter. But often the luxus of the West makes us lose the horizon."

Inspire him and others to initiate efforts that bring the liturgy back to its beauty, expressed through words, images, sounds, scents... Ask the Father that the Church may be less and less a closed clerical system, and grant that, as Hans Urs von Balthasar requested, the true barriers may finally be brought down—those that prevent the Church from truly being herself in the splendor of her beauty that comes from her attention to Sacred Scripture and holy Tradition.

Intercede so that God may protect, sanctify, and strengthen us all.