The time from the conversion of Constantine until the dawning of the second millennium was the formative period of the church, the era of the church fathers. It was a time of lively faith but also a time of controversy. During this period the expressive worship tradition of the church was shaped and formed and given the roots it needed to grow in richness in the following centuries. An important aspect of this worship tradition was a form of wordless prayer known as jubilation, which the church fathers understood as a natural human response to the mystery of God.
The period of the fathers was a time of a rich variety of styles of expressive prayer and worship. Congregations could be quite spontaneous in calling out phrases of praise and thanksgiving. Sighs, tears, and laughter played an important role in worship. Perhaps the most significant form of spontaneous prayer during the formative period was prayer without words, or jubilation, which closely resembles the “tongues” of present-day charismatic renewal. Jubilation was a way of singing and praying aloud without using words. Although the last hundred years have seen even the memory of wordless prayer ebb from the Catholic church’s consciousness, it played a vital role in the formation of the liturgy until the ninth century and was important in private prayer until the late Middle Ages. Traces of it can be found in the mystical tradition as late as the nineteenth century.
Origin of the Term Jubilation
The word jubilation (or jubilus) comes from the classical Latin word jubilatio which means “loud shouting, whooping.” In classical usage, a jubilation was the pastoral call of a farmer or shepherd. It has been the age-old custom of country people to call to one another or to animals by using special calls or yodels. St. Hilary of Poitiers (d. 368) referred to the peasant origins of the term jubilation:
And according to the custom of our language, we name the call of the peasant and agricultural worker a jubilus, when in solitary places, either answering or calling, the jubilation of the voice is heard through the emphasis on the long drawn out and expressive rendering. (Ennarationes in Psalmos 65, as quoted in George Chambers, Folksong-Plainsong [1956], 23-24)
This jubilation of the peasant was probably much like a yodel. In fact, the word yodel comes from the medieval usage of the word jubilation (Die Musik in Geschichte und Gegenwart [1958] vol. 7, p. 74). Alpine shepherds still employ the yodel to call to one another. Western ranch hands of North America herd cattle with a form of yodel. There seems to be a natural human trait, which was much more pronounced in preindustrial societies, to improvise wordless calls and songs. When human muscle power exerted in concert was still a vital source of energy, men regulated the rhythm of their lifting and moving together through the use of wordless calls.
Christians of the late Roman Empire and Middle Ages were well acquainted with a variety of wordless expressions. They saw their wordless prayers as the same type of activity that farmers and shepherds engaged in. They recognized the singing and speaking of wordless phrases as a natural human activity, much more than people of the twentieth century would.
If they saw a great identity between their jubilation and the natural jubilation of the secular world, they also saw profound differences. For them, Christian jubilation was a natural human activity given over to profoundly Christian and spiritual use. Augustine could call Christian jubilation miraculous (J. P. Migne, Patrologia Latina, vol. 40, p. 680). Contrasting secular jubilation with its Christian counterpart, he wrote: “They jubilate out of confusion, … we [Christians] out of confession” (Ennarationes in Psalmos 99).
Thus, jubilation was viewed as a natural human expression that was given profound spiritual and mystical significance. George Chambers writes of this change of use: “[Jubilation] is the expression of the soul in a higher sense; it ceases to be merely a subconscious utterance and becomes part of the spirit’s yearning for the inner things of God” (Chambers, Folksong-Plainsong, 5).
Types of Jubilation
The term jubilation has a wide range of meanings. Essentially it was understood as the spontaneous outward expression of inner spiritual experience. Such expression might come through wordless songs or sounds, but could also be manifested by bodily expressions such as gestures and laughter. As we survey what the church fathers have to say about it, we note references to three major types of jubilation. First, musical jubilation was a form of spontaneous, wordless singing. Second, congregational jubilation was musical jubilation in a liturgical setting. It was the custom of congregations to sing an alleluia before the reading of the gospel and to extend the last “a” of the alleluia into a long, spontaneous, wordless song. Third, mystical jubilation was the flow of wordless sounds, musical or nonmusical, along with laughter and gestures, which accompany intense spiritual experience. The following is a more complete discussion of these three types of jubilation.
Musical Jubilation. Musical jubilation is singing aloud on vowel sounds as an expression of joy or yearning for God. One of the best definitions of this practice has been provided by music historian Albert Seay, who writes that it is “an overpowering expression of the ecstasy of the spirit, a joy that could not be restricted to words.… It occupied a peculiar place in the liturgy, for it carried implications of catharsis, a cleansing of the soul” (Music in the Medieval World [1965], 38). In a major work dealing with the jubilus, Théodore Gérold emphasizes its improvisation: “One notes the more or less spontaneous impulse.… In [jubilations] [the people] exhaled joy to some extent without control” (Les pères de l’église et la musique (Études d’histoire et de philosophie Réligieuse, XXV, 1931], 122).
Most major thinkers of the Christian church in the late Roman Empire and early Middle Ages mention the practice of jubilation. We will examine some of their statements.
St. Augustine of Hippo, whose writings were a major influence on Western thought for nearly one thousand years after his death, mentions jubilation several times. In his Expositions of the Psalms, Augustine writes: Where speech does not suffice … they break into singing on vowel sounds, that through this means the feeling of the soul may be expressed, words failing to explain the heart’s conceptions. Therefore, if they jubilate from earthly exhilaration, should we not sing the jubilation out of heavenly joy, what words cannot express?”
He urges his people to jubilate, saying: You already know what it is to jubilate. Rejoice and speak. If you cannot express your joy, jubilate: jubilation expresses your joy, if you cannot speak; it cannot be a silent joy; if the heart is not silent to its God, it shall not be silent to his reward. (Ennarationes in Psalmos 97, in Patrologia Latina, vol. 37, pp. 1254–1255)
Augustine speaks of the highly spontaneous and wordless character of jubilation: He who sings a jubilus … pronounces a wordless sound of joy; the voice of his soul pours forth happiness as intensely as possible, expressing what he feels without reflecting on any particular meaning.… He simply lets his joy burst forth without words. (Ennarationes in Psalmos 99:4, in Patrologia Latina, vol. 37, p. 1272)
St. Jerome, who translated the Bible into Latin, says: By the term jubilus we understand that which neither in words nor syllables nor letters nor speech is it possible to express or comprehend how much man ought to praise God. (Patrologia Latina, vol. 26, p. 970)
In his translation of the Psalms, Jerome translates the Greek word alalgma, which means “shout of joy,” as jubilus. In this use of the term he probably refers to the experience of wordless singing which was common in his day (Chambers, Folksong-Plainsong, 8).
St. John Chrysostom (c. 347–407), the bishop of Constantinople, encouraged his people to sing without words. He says, “It is permitted to sing psalms without words, so long as the mind resounds within” (Eis ton Psalmon 41:2, in Patrologiae Graecae et Latinae, vol. 55, p. 159; Prothe ria eis tous Psalmous, in PGL, vol. 55, p. 538).
M. Aurelius Cassiodorus (450–583) wrote a massive commentary on the Psalms in which he mentions jubilation several times. It is not clear from his references whether he is speaking of musical or nonmusical jubilation. He writes: The jubilation is called an exultation of the heart, which, because it is such an infinite joy, cannot be explained in words. (Complexiones in Psalmos 65:1 [66:1 in English versions], in Patrologia Latina, vol. 70, p. 451)
He further writes, “Jubilation is the joy expressed with fervor of mind and shout of indistinct voice.” Cassiodorus describes jubilation as a response to the incarnation of Jesus through the “new song” referred to in Psalm 33:3. He believed that the entire universe has been filled “with saving exultation” because of that event (Complexiones in Psalmos 32:3 [33:3 in English versions], in Patrologia Latina, vol. 70, p. 226). Again, Cassiodorus asserted that jubilation can teach praise. It is a “helping,” a “delighting,” “For those for whom the exultation of words was not able to be sufficient, so they might leap forth into the most overflowing and unexplainable joy, … teaching rejoicing souls that they ought to give thanks to the Lord, not to sing confused by some anxiety. (Complexiones in Psalmos 80:1 [81:1 in English versions], in Patrologia Latina, vol. 70, p. 586)
St. Isidore of Seville (d. 636) passed on much of the wisdom of the Latin fathers to later generations. Concerning jubilation, he writes: Language cannot explain, … words cannot explain.… It is an effusion of the soul.… When the joy of exultation erupts by means of the voice, this is known as jubilation. (Opera Omnia, vol. 5, p. 43)
Jubilation was a common form of prayer for believers in the medieval period. Sometimes wordless singing was an extension of vowel sounds after the singing of an alleluia; sometimes the jubilation was sung without the alleluia. Jerome mentions farmers in the field and even little children praying in this way. Others mention Christian sailors and boatmen on the Loire praying the jubilation. The practice was so widespread that the historian of music Marie Pierik has stated, “This ejaculation, modulated on all forms, became the refrain of gladness which accompanied the daily occupations of the peaceful population converted to the new faith” (Marie Pierik, Song of the Church).
Congregational Jubilation. Congregational jubilation is musical jubilation in the context of worship. Most of the descriptions of musical jubilation in general in the writings of the church fathers and music historians also apply to jubilation in congregations. Improvised prayer singing was practiced in a period when church worship incorporated a high degree of spontaneity. In addition to the jubilation, psalm-singing and hymns could be improvised. Congregations might react spontaneously with laughter, tears, and sighs and by shouting phrases such as, “Glory to God!”
It appears that most of the music in the patristic era, and at least some until the time of the ninth-century liturgical scholar Amalarius of Metz, was of an improvisational nature. L’encyclopédie de la musique includes this comment: From these sources (i.e., the church fathers) one senses clearly that the music of the Christian era was originally improvised. The first Christians expressed their religious ecstasy in a purely emotional and spontaneous fashion by means of music. According to the terminology of Tertullian all the members of an assembly were invited to participate in the praise of God by words from Scripture or by “songs of their own invention.” The first Christian authors, Hilary of Poitiers (315–366), Jerome (340–420), and Augustine (354–430), until Amalarius (ninth century), describe the rich, exuberant coloraturas sung without a text and the alleluia songs as overwhelming melody of joy and gratitude sung upon the inspiration of the moment. A large number of the melodies that have come down to us still have traces of improvisation. (article, “Improvisation,” in L’encyclopédie de la musique)
St. John Chrysostom suggests that it is the work of the Holy Spirit that makes improvised singing in churches possible. He states, “Though men and women, young and old, are different, when they sing hymns, their voices are influenced by the Holy Spirit in such a way that the melody sounds as if sung by one voice.” Chrysostom refers to the cantor as the “prophet” and to music as “prophecy.” Of the singing at the Church of Holy Peace in Constantinople, Chrysostom writes: “The prophet speaks and we all respond to him. All of us make echo to him. Together we form one choir. In this, earth imitates heaven. This is the nobility of the Church” (quoted in L’encyclopédie des musiques sacres [1968–1970], vol. 2, p. 15).
Improvised body movements could accompany congregational singing. Theodoret (c. 386–457) has left a report of “hymns being accompanied by clapping of hands and dance movements” (J. P. Migne, Patrologia Graeca, vol. 83, p. 426).
Congregational jubilation was a part of the total picture of improvised music. The jubilation came after the singing of the alleluia, just before the gospel during mass. As the congregation and choir sang the last alleluia, the people moved into exuberant wordless singing on vowel sounds, which could last for up to five minutes. In a real sense it was a preparation for the hearing of the gospel. It could also occur in melismatic portions of the graduals and offertories. Cassiodorus writes: The tongue of singers rejoices in it; joyfully the community repeats it. It is an ornament of the tongue of singers … like something good of which one can never have enough. It is innovated in ever-varying jubilations. (Complexiones in Psalmos 104, quoted in Chambers, Folksong-Plainsong, 7)
It was during the ninth century that improvisation of the jubilus ceased to be an expected part of the liturgy. From the period of Pope Gregory I (“the Great”) in the sixth century until the eleventh century, the church was in the process of absorbing new nations and barbarian tribes, often converting them en masse. While these were real conversions, it could take generations for a vital Christianity to filter down to the ordinary people. This situation inhibited the practice of improvisation, which relied to some extent on the spiritual sensitivity of congregations. Church music began to be performed more and more by trained choirs; this resulted in the writing of church music in notation, causing it to lose much of its improvised character.
Eventually the jubilation was largely replaced by the sequence. In the year 860, Norsemen sacked the cloister of Jumièges in Normandy, and a monk carried with him the written musical notation for the mass to the safety of the monastery at St. Gall. There a young monk named Notker noticed that words had been written in place of the jubilations after the final alleluia. Adopting this suggestion, Notker composed other words to replace jubilations. At first this was a device to help singers remember melodies, but soon it replaced the jubilation entirely (Henry Osborn Taylor, The Medieval Mind [1911], vol. 2, p. 201).
Although jubilation ceased to be an expected part of the liturgy, large groups of ordinary people improvised expressive jubilations well into the Middle Ages, and mystically oriented small groups did so into the seventeenth century and perhaps later.
Mystical Jubilation. Mystics are men and women who feel the pull of eternity in a special way. Their lives are marked by a hunger for God and a close union with him. As a result of the constant quest for a bold experience of God, their lives are often characterized by dark tunnels and moments of indescribable ecstasy, resulting in a radical transformation of their existence. Examples are the ascetics of the desert, who often emerged from long years of prayer as men of great tenderness whose very presence brought healing to disturbed souls.
Part of the prayer experience of these mystics was the outward physical expression of the deep inward moving of the Spirit, sometimes involving jubilation. Traces of the practice can be seen in the patristic era. Later in the medieval period, mystical jubilation becomes much more common. Pope Gregory the Great, in his commentary on Job, describes it as an immense interior joy that is manifested outwardly by the voice, physical gestures, and laughter. He says:
What we mean by the term jubilation is when we conceive such a great joy in the heart that we cannot express it in words; yet despite this the heart vents what it is feeling by means of the voice what it cannot express by discursive speech. (Expositio in Librum Iob, 8, 88)
Gregory writes that jubilation can also be expressed in bodily gestures: “What we call jubilation is an unspeakable joy which can neither be concealed nor expressed in words. It betrays itself, however, by certain gestures, though it is not expressed in any suitable words” (Expositio in Librum Iob, 24, 10). He pictures the heavenlies as a place of jubilation: “The mouth is rightly said to be filled with laughter, the lips with jubilation, since in that eternal land, when the mind of the righteous is borne away in transport, the tongue is lifted up in praise” (Expositio in Librum Iob, 8, 89).
John Cassian, the early fifth-century monk, helped to interpret the experience of the desert holy men for the Western church. He refers to monks waking with “a sacrifice of jubilations.” Sometimes the delight of this experience is so great that the monk breaks out into shouts. Cassian describes this experience:
For often through some inexpressible delight and keenness of spirit, the fruit of a most salutary conviction arises so that it actually breaks forth into shouts owing to the greatness of its uncontrollable joy; and the delight of the heart and the greatness of exultation make themselves heard even in the cell of the neighbor.
Sometimes this experience of God is felt in profound quiet; sometimes it is expressed by “a flood of tears.” Prayer without words, whether shouts, quiet or tears, has great value, according to Cassian: “That is not a perfect prayer … wherein the monk understands himself and the words which he prayed” (“Praying in a Transport of Mind,” unidentified quote in Reinhold, The Soul Afire [1973], 362-363).
Other Styles of Expressive Prayer and Worship
The picture one gets from reading the literature of the early church is that people could be quite expressive both in private and public worship. St. Augustine, pastor and bishop of the Christian church in Hippo during the early fifth century, has left us many interesting accounts of the spontaneity of his congregation. One Augustinian scholar has noted that “Augustine’s congregation was in the habit of reacting to whatever was read or preached with all the liveliness of their temperament. They shouted comments, sighed, and laughed, like children at a cinema” (F. Van Der Meer, Augustine the Bishop [1961], 339).
Another account of expressive worship comes from Egeria, the Diary of a Pilgrimage, the story of a woman from Gaul who made a pilgrimage to Christian Palestine in the early fifth century. She writes that the people of Jerusalem were quite devout and that the houses of the city were emptied on Sundays because people flocked to church. They loved ceremony and candlelight processions.
One of their customs was to gather in the church well before daybreak on Sunday to hear a special reading of the account of Jesus’ resurrection. Egeria says, “During the reading of the passage [about the arrest of the Lord] there is such moaning and groaning with weeping from all the people that their moaning can be heard practically as far as the city” (Egeria, The Diary of a Pilgrimage, trans. George E. Gingras [1970], 109).
The type of experience described by Egeria appears to be a kindred response to jubilation. Both the “moans” and “groans” of Egeria and the joyful wordless sounds of jubilation are in a real sense glossolalia prayer: wordless, spontaneous prayer that is spoken aloud.
“How sweet,” Augustine said in his commentary on the Psalms, “are the sighs and tears of prayer” (Ennarationes in Psalmos 125). It was common for members of his congregation to employ such gestures as outstretched hands, prostrations, kneeling, loud beating of the breast, and a person’s throwing himself on the floor in contrition.
The Spiritual Significance of Jubilation for the Church Fathers
The church fathers believed that praying with both body and voice was normal and natural for Christians. They knew that much in God is mysterious; therefore, our encounters with him are also filled with mystery. One way in which believers could respond to God’s mystery was through singing and praying without words. The fathers conceived of a rhythm in the heart of God, a beautiful and mysterious song into which Christians can enter by means of jubilation.
In our own day, we have witnessed a rebirth of voiced, wordless prayer, most often referred to as “speaking in tongues,” or glossolalia. Under the inspiration of the Spirit, the person prays or sings aloud without words, expressing things that cannot be spoken in words. The importance for charismatics is not that it is a language or “unknown tongue,” but that it is a means whereby the Holy Spirit prays through the believer, expressing things that are beyond conceptual language. George Montague, a leading theologian of the charismatic renewal, views glossolalia not as a language but as preconceptual prayer (The Spirit and His Gifts [1974], 18-29).
Most Bible scholars consider New Testament tongues to be ecstatic speech, wordless sounds rather than actual spoken language. Significantly, modern culture has recently rediscovered what preindustrial societies knew instinctively, that communication and expression are much broader than the vocabulary and syntax of language. Examples of phrases that indicate this understanding are “body language,” “good vibes,” and “bad vibes.” Thus one can conceive of glossolalia as real communication, even if it does not use syntax and vocabulary.
If both glossolalia and jubilation can be classified as preconceptual prayer, perhaps jubilation qualifies as a form of glossolalia. Indeed, the definition of glossolalia in a major study by Morton T. Kelsey sounds much like the definitions of jubilation given by the church fathers. Kelsey calls glossolalia “a spontaneous utterance of uncomprehended and seemingly random speech sounds” (Tongue Speaking [1968], 1).
A major difference between the church fathers’ understanding of glossolalia and the understanding prevalent in Pentecostal and charismatic circles is that the fathers saw it as a natural human activity. There is a tendency among Pentecostals to understand tongues as somehow separate from normal human experience. Analogies are rarely drawn with similar human activities such as yodeling, humming in the shower, and the like. In fact, one wonders if the reaction of misunderstanding and occasional fear on the part of some Christians to glossolalia does not come from this dichotomy.
Although the church fathers conceived of jubilation as a natural human activity, they also saw it as a form of prayer with profound spiritual significance. As such it was a natural human activity given over to Christian use. An analogy can be made with the Eucharist. Sitting down to a meal is one of the most ordinary of human activities. The Eucharist is also a meal; it is also ordinary and human. The difference between the Eucharist and a family meal is that the Eucharist is a meal given over to a real and profound encounter with Christ.
The same can be said of glossolalia as an ordinary human activity, that of giving over one’s voice to a flow of sounds from the subconscious. The fathers viewed it as an experience similar to battle cries, yodels, and humming. Yet among Christians, this ordinary activity is given over to the deep movement of the Spirit within the person—a physical, vocal giving of oneself to the movement of the Spirit.
Part of the spiritual significance of jubilation for the church fathers was the understanding that jubilation is essentially God praying through the believer. Augustine clearly delineates this view in his commentary on Psalm 32 (33 in English versions), where he asserts that human beings do not know how to pray or sing to God properly. God himself intervenes through jubilation, even helping to form the tune. Augustine writes, “Lo and behold, he sets the tune for you himself, so to say; do not look for words, as if you could put into words the things that please God. Sing in jubilation: singing well to God means, in fact, just this: singing in jubilation.” In an apparent paraphrase of Paul’s statement in Romans 8:26, Augustine continues: “The jubilus is a melody which conveys that the heart is in travail over something it cannot bring forth in words. [When you cannot say what you want to say] what else can you do but jubilate?” (On the Psalms [1961 edition], 111-112).
This same sentiment is expressed in beautiful, imaginative imagery by St. Peter Chrysologus. He hears the jubilation as God’s own song and relates it to the call of the Good Shepherd. In his commentary on Psalm 94 (95 in English versions) St. Peter Chrysologus writes thus: The Shepherd with sweet jubilus, with varied melody, leads the flock to pasture, keeps the tired flock at rest under shaded grove. This jubilus urges the flock to climb lofty mountains, there to graze on healthful grasses. Also it calls them to descend to the low valleys slowly and without hurry. How happy are those sheep that join their voices to the voice of the Shepherd, that follow when he calls to feed and gather. They truly jubilate to their Shepherd.… In [singing] psalms let us jubilate. (Sermo VI in Psalmos 94)
Christians of this period considered jubilation to be an entering into the music of the angels. “Heaven,” said St. Isidore, “functions under the rhythm of jubilation” (Chambers, Folksong-Plainsong, 8). This was also suggested by Pope Gregory the Great when he described jubilation as the praise of the blessed in heaven.
Augustine viewed jubilation as a confession, Cassiodorus as a “declaration.” It was an acknowledgment that much of God is beyond us, and a witness that he prays through his people and unites their voices. Even today the traces of jubilation that remain in Gregorian chant and plainsong eloquently describe that mystery.
Although jubilation was often described as a spontaneous expression of joy, it was also to be engaged in regardless of one’s feelings. Augustine, Chrysologus, and others used the imperative form when they admonished the people to jubilate; in short, they commanded the congregation to do so. Improvised jubilation was a regular part of the liturgical life of the people. They engaged in it regardless of circumstance, both in times of dryness and of spiritual blessing. This act of obedience opened up a channel through which God could work and pray through them. They thought of jubilation as entering into the praise of heaven.