Recent years have witnessed an increased commitment to singing psalms at each worship service. As a result, composers of church music have produced a wealth of psalm settings for congregational use. These range in style and manner, but all intend to restore psalm-singing as a significant aspect of common worship.
One of the happier effects of the liturgical movement and the subsequent renewal of worship in this century is the revived interest in singing the Psalms. While it can be rightly argued that some Protestant traditions never abandoned the practice (principally through the use of metrical psalmody), the period following Vatican II and the nearly simultaneous charismatic renewal gave rise to a resurgence of interest in the ancient practice of responsorial psalmody. Spanning the denominational spectrum, the Psalms once again comprise a major component in the sung praise of the church.
This is as it should be. The Psalms, after all, are the church’s first hymnbook, and hymns are meant to be sung. To appreciate just how much this is so, one might consider the implications of reciting, rather than singing, congregational hymns in the context of corporate worship. While the poetry of hymnody can certainly convey something of the author’s intention for authentic praise, there can be little question that singing would be highly preferable.
Biblical and Early Christian Practice
The scriptural record makes it clear that sung praise was a regular part of ancient Hebrew worship, and psalms were a primary source of repertoire. Though it is not specifically stated in Scripture, it is reasonable to assume that some of the Judaic musical practice of the day was adopted by the early Christian community. Evidence of this can be seen in both the regular Jewish hours of prayer, which eventually evolved into the monastic canonical hours; and in the early eucharistic rites, with the implicit echoes of the Jewish seder, the use of the hallel (Psalms 113–118) to recount the saving acts of God in history, and the now-stylized four-fold action of the Eucharist.
What Scripture does not make clear are the specific musical or liturgical practices of biblical times, but with regard to the use of psalmody, the Mishnah (c. a.d. 200) gives some insight into the liturgical use of the Psalms in worship at the temple, adapted for synagogue usage: after each verse was chanted by a cantor (or at the temple, a choir), the people, in turn, responded (hence the name of the form) with an antiphon or refrain. On festival days that employed the hallel Psalms, the people responded with “hallelujah.”
The responsorial method had much to commend it in a society where access to education was limited and extremely hierarchical. That is to say, at the top of the pyramid were very few men who could read and write with great facility (the priests, the teachers of the law, many of the Pharisees and Sadducees—the Apostle Paul would be found in this tier). At the next lower level of proficiency were a larger number of men who had some formal education and were reasonably literate (rabbis such as Jesus, for instance), and beneath them were a still larger number of uneducated men who could neither read nor write. At the bottom were the women of the day, who had virtually no opportunity for education.
The use of a repeated refrain that encapsulated the essence of a psalm was an extremely effective way to ensure that a specific element in the greater story of God’s dealing with humanity was committed to memory. Functionally, the cantor served as a storyteller, not unlike a balladeer recounting the saving acts of God, giving the people a means of recollection in the refrain. As a pedagogic and catechetical device, the usefulness of this form can scarcely be overplayed, even today in highly literate cultures.
As the church grew and spread beyond the Jewish community, sung praise using the Psalms became a hallmark of its worship. Eusebius, Bishop of Saerarea (260–340), describes the practice: “The command to sing psalms in the name of the Lord was obeyed by everyone in every place: for the command to sing is in force in all churches which exist among the nations, not only the Greeks but also the barbarians throughout the whole world, and in towns, villages and in the fields.” At the very least, this suggests that the faith experience and singing praise to God with the Psalms permeated the affairs of daily life.
The musical idiom for the singing of the Psalms gradually developed into what is known today as chant (sometimes called plainchant or plainsong, meaning sung without accompaniment). The melodic sources of these psalm songs included fragments of ancient Hebrew chants and melodies, borrowed bits of local folk songs, and probably some original composition (though it would not have been regarded as such at the time). Eventually, a set of melodies known as tones became the vehicle by which psalms were offered to God in corporate worship.
Within monastic communities, daily repeated exposure to the Psalter using the psalm tones enabled even illiterate monks and nuns to commit them to memory. In this “closed” setting, chant gradually became more and more complicated, with florid melismas and technical subtleties beyond the capabilities of ordinary people. A largely uneducated laity still relied on the use of the simple antiphon, if they sang anything at all. As a music form, chant reached its pinnacle in the seventh century, when it was codified and became known as Gregorian chant (after Pope Gregory the Great). In addition to psalmody, settings for the Mass, the offices, and hymns had become part of the church’s repertoire.
The fortuitous development of a more-or-less standard musical notation during this same period served at least two important positive functions: (1) it provided the means for truly common repertoire, recorded in written form, and (2) it preserved for future generations a priceless body of Christian song with roots firmly in biblical soil.
Today, plainchant as a vehicle for responsorial psalmody (and other sung praise) survives in many religious communities and is used in some parish settings. Beautiful as plainchant is, however, its successful execution depends on sensitive and knowledgeable leadership. Sadly, it is an idiom that is foreign to the ears of many modern worshipers. Thanks to the important work of Charles Winfred Douglas, Healy Willan, Richard Crocker, Mason Martens, Howard Galley, and James Litton, and others, much of this repertory is still accessible for congregational use; Gradual Psalms and The Plainsong Psalter, to name but two resources, are both available from the Church Hymnal Corporation, New York.
Modern Developments in Responsorial Psalmody
During the latter half of the twentieth century, psalmody specifically, and church music generally has enjoyed a period of unparalleled creativity. Renewal in liturgy, language, and music spawned a pressing need for new material to liberate the faithful in praise. Before Vatican II, before the charismatic renewal, Fr. Joseph Gelineau, S.J., was pioneering a return to the practice of responsorial psalmody for congregational worship. His work was a harbinger of the creative outburst that was to follow a few years later.
Gelineau used the rhythmic strictures of the original Hebrew poetry in his fresh translations: each line has a specified number of accented syllables, with varying, intervening unstressed syllables. This principle governed the composition of both his antiphons and the chant tones. Published in English by GIA Publications, Chicago, his work has entered the mainstream of liturgical song. One notable example is his setting of Psalm 23, recently published in both The Presbyterian Hymnal and The United Methodist Hymnal. His settings sound very traditional, but it must be remembered that during the 1950s, combining a tuneful, melodic antiphon with a traditional, albeit modern, chant form was thoroughly innovative. Gelineau’s work could be rightly called the first fruits of liturgical renewal. Vatican II, and its dictum that the faithful should be active participants rather than spectators in worship, coincided with an outpouring of the Holy Spirit upon the church (now called the charismatic renewal). With the renewal of worship as the tenor of the age, the responsorial form provided an obvious way to reinstitute sung prayer and praise by the faithful who had hitherto been willingly or unwillingly silent.
The times were ripe for experimentation and expansion into new realms. The troubadour with a guitar was a pervasive and persuasive cultural image at the time: in the secular sphere, folk music, personified in performers like Peter, Paul, and Mary, Joan Baez, Simon and Garfunkel, Bob Dylan, and Judy Collins to name but a few, gave voice to the troubles and triumphs of the day. The folk style was quickly appropriated by Christian composers eager to meet the demand for material suitable for corporate worship.
Ray Repp and Jo Wise (writers of “I am the Resurrection” and “Take Our Bread,” respectively) were two of the more prominent folk composers from this period. Very little of their music is found in use today, but they paved the way for the work of subsequent composers and groups including the St. Louis Jesuits, the Dameans, Cary Landry, and the monks of Weston Priory. The St. Louis Jesuits, particularly, drew heavily on the Psalms for material, imitating the various current styles in secular popular music, from folk to country and western to rock. Their songs were cast in a verse/refrain format, a popular restatement of the responsorial method. Some of their more effective and accessible works are “The Cry of the Poor” (Psalm 34), “For You Are My God” (Psalm 16), both from the pen of John Foley, S.J., and “To You, Yahweh, I Lift Up My Soul” by Tim Manion, S.J.
The generally higher musical standard for the St. Louis Jesuits set the stage for three composers who have since dominated the contemporary Roman Catholic music scene: Marty Haugan, David Haas, and Michael Joncas. Their work is broad in its scope, from service music to religious folk/pop to modern traditional hymnody (with some especially fine offerings from Haugan) to psalmody. Their psalmody is in the characteristic popular style, with tuneful refrains and verses that are often through-composed rather than strictly strophic.
A small sampling of their more popular work would include: from Haugan, “Shepherd Me, O God” (Psalm 23), a haunting setting using inclusive language, though that is not immediately apparent; “Your Love is Finer Than Life” (Psalm 63); and “Your Love is Never Ending” (Psalm 136); from Haas, “We Are His People” (Psalm 100), cast in a Taizé-style form with an ostinato refrain, is arguably his best; and from Joncas, “On Eagle’s Wings” (Psalm 136), written in an unashamedly sentimental style, has crossed many a denominational line, having found a place in the Methodist, Baptist, and Mennonite/Brethren hymnals. While it remains to be seen whether any of their creative efforts are ultimately durable, Haugan’s music particularly is finding a place in more and more denominational hymnals.
The paucity of suitable psalmody for congregational use has engaged a host of other composers, writing in more traditional, though no less innovative, styles. A very partial listing of those making significant contributions in this field today would include James Quin, S.J., Jay Hunstiger, and Howard Hughs, S.M., in the Roman Catholic church; George Black, Peter Hallock, Richard Proulx, and Betty Pulkingham from the Anglican/Episcopal traditions; Carleton Young and Jane Marshall in Methodism; Hal Hopson from the Presbyterian church; and Richard Hillert representing the Lutheran church.
Melodies for their antiphons range from plainchant style to hymn fragments to twentieth-century “serious” music to popular. Accompaniments vary from a cappella voices to organ to handbells to guitars and tambourine (and any combination of the same). The verses are almost always in a chant form, intended to be sung by a cantor or choir. In this regard, these composers are children of Gelineau, passing on to those who follow the rich legacy of the biblical song set to modern music.
Stylistically, the scope among these composers is varied and wide. Hallack’s work, for instance, found in his own publication The Ionian Psalter, comes from his years of service at St. Mark’s (Episcopal) Cathedral in Seattle. Composed to complement the cavernous space in that building, his settings have a decidedly ethereal quality and could be described as somewhat esoteric. Scored for organ, choir, and congregation, they require musical leadership of a very high caliber for satisfying performance. By contrast, The Basilica Psalter (Collegeville, Minn.: The Liturgical Press) by Jay Hunstiger features alternate settings for many psalms, one intended for use with a full complement of musical resources, and one for use where musical leadership is more modest.
Hymn fragments (one or two phrases of a hymn) have been effectively used by Hal Hopson in his small collection Psalms, Refrains, and Tones (Carol Stream, Ill.: Hope Publishing Company) and by George Black, a Canadian musician, in his Music for the Sunday Psalms (Toronto: Anglican Book Center) and in The United Methodist Hymnal. Charles Smith, editor for the Psalter in the Methodist book, drew heavily on well-known tunes in devising an immediately accessible collection of antiphons. Also featured are antiphons by Young, Marshall, Proulx, and many others. A similar Psalter, utilizing hymn fragments exclusively, is currently in preparation in the Episcopal church.
Betty Pulkingham, a composer from the Community of Celebration noted for her labors in renewal music has done important work in bridging the gap between “serious” church music and more contemporary expressions of praise. The Celebration Psalter (St. Louis: Cathedral Music Press) showcases her psalmody, which is intentionally eclectic in style. The significance of this collection is in its pairing of traditional chanted psalm tones with antiphons set in more contemporary idioms. Though they are not particularly difficult, adequate preparation is essential for their successful execution.
Finally, a survey of modern trends in responsorial psalm singing would not be complete without acknowledging the music that has emerged from the charismatic movement. Filled with a desire to “sing a new song to the Lord,” composers (often people with little or no music training) from every denomination, turned to the Psalms—and Scripture, generally—for texts that taught, encouraged, and exhorted the faithful in praise. Companies like Maranatha! Music, Word, and more recently, Integrity’s Hosanna Music, fill a need by publishing and recording new music for worship.
Historically and stylistically, this music shares much with that which emerged from Vatican II (indeed, in places like the Word of God Community, Ann Arbor, Michigan, the two streams of renewal flowed together, and it was not possible to separate one from the other). Significant early contributors include Tommy Coombes, David and Dale Garrett, Betty Pulkingham, and Andre Crouch (whose setting of Psalm 103, “Bless the Lord, O My Soul” has found a place in the Baptist and Christian Reformed hymnals).
As a genre, these psalm songs often feature the familiar verse/refrain format, though many are simpler still, utilizing one or two psalm verses in a complete song. While the form cannot be strictly described as responsorial, it achieves the same end: The song gives the people a selection of Scripture set to a memorable tune. The musical integrity of much of this literature is hotly debated, and it remains to be seen if any will survive for use by future generations of Christians.
Summary
Responsorial psalmody has enjoyed a phenomenal resurgence in popularity during the latter half of the twentieth century. Significant factors include Vatican II; the liturgical movement, generally; and the charismatic renewal.
Based solidly on biblical and historical practice, modern composers of virtually every denomination are stretching creative boundaries for innovative and effective ways to sing the psalms. Whether their work is enduring will be for others to decide, but the benefit to the people of God today—singing the word of God, letting it “dwell in them richly”—cannot be overestimated.