Florida Catholic | Five Decades Of Singing Without Music

Five decades of singing without music

Since I will be on vacation for a few weeks, I thought I would yield this space to a series of reflections on the Liturgy of the Hours written by retired Auxiliary Bishop Agustín Román as he marks the 50th anniversary of his priesthood. They already have appeared in La Voz Católica, our monthly Spanish-language newspaper.

BISHOP AGUSTÍN ROMÁN | AUXILIARY BISHOP EMERITUS OF MIAMI

Published: 07.18.08

I have always viewed the psalms as a beautiful garden, in bloom and aromatic, which holy mother church entered like a florist to choose the flowers and arrange them in an artistically crafted bouquet called the Liturgy of the Hours.”
— Bishop Agustín Román, Auxiliary Bishop Emeritus of Miami

According to St. Augustine, when we sing, we pray twice. I find that to be true. I have always liked music, song and poetry because they lead me to God. I enjoy greatly when someone who has this gift makes use of it and I always lament not being able to do so myself.

During my seminary years, I dreamt of being able to sing and of leading the faithful in singing to our good Lord. I worked hard in music class and could read the notes as well as my classmates, but every time I sang, it was obviously off-key. I could not distinguish “do” from “re”. Sometimes, I dared to ask the Lord why he had not given me the gift others possessed.

I also like to read poetry and I admire poets who in a few words can say so much so beautifully. When I write, I have to write a lot to convey a few ideas and in the end it’s not that pretty.

While taking classes on sacred Scripture in the seminary, I became really interested in the psalms and I discovered in them the beauty of the lyrical poetry of the Israelites: a peasant people who knew how to express eternal truths in images taken from nature herself, with the earth and sky making frequent appearances along with the sun, the moon and the stars, oceans, waters and fountains – all the works of the great Creator.

My peasant roots enabled me to delight in the psalms from the first moment I encountered them in the Jerusalem Bible, which had just been published back then. Our good professor, who had just returned from the Holy Land, made us appreciate the value of the lyrical poetry of God’s chosen people who, inspired by him, bestowed upon the world the message of salvation in poetry and song.

I never thought that those hymns could penetrate so deeply within and resonate in such a way that, while praying them, we truly are singing without music.

Fifty years later, I do not recall many of the details of my ordination as subdeacon, which took place June 29, 1958; what I have never forgotten is that I was receiving, from the hands of the church, the task of praying with her and for her all the days of my life.

I remember my spiritual director telling me: “Translate the psalms from the Latin so that you can understand them better, and make them penetrate your memory and your heart so that when you pray, they will burst forth from your soul as if they were your own.”

He certainly could not imagine that in a few years we would be praying those psalms in our own language without having to translate them.

The daily recitation of the psalms, which are the soulful expression of the people of God of the Old Covenant, becomes today, like yesterday, an avenue for heartfelt expression in the midst of all types of circumstances – be they public or private, joyful or sad, times of failure or triumph. The psalms help me join in solidarity with my suffering brothers and sisters who, although far in terms of distance, are quite near in the mystery of the communion of saints.

“The joys and the hopes, the griefs and the anxieties of the men of this age, especially those who are poor or in any way afflicted, these are the joys and hopes, the griefs and anxieties of the followers of Christ. Indeed, nothing genuinely human fails to raise an echo in their hearts” (Gaudium et Spes) as we recite the psalms in the Liturgy of the Hours. The priest, although he does not know the majority of men, is the confidant who guards their secrets, who like a brother must listen in order to console those who are suffering.

Praying the psalms during the Liturgy of the Hours is the best means of relieving their pain and praying for those who have asked the priest to intercede on their behalf. How many tears a priest dries during the day as he comes before the one who can not only listen, but respond favorably!

Sadly, many distractions force me to reread the words in front of me, because although I am awake, there are moments when I seem to sleep or worse to dream of other things. But in the beauty of the psalms, the richness and vigor of their images, the tenderness, the passion, the religiosity of these poems oozing with salve and lyricism, I awaken to the problems that we all face every day.

We must recite the psalms today in light of the message of Christ. Indeed, we should read the Old Testament and the psalms which are contained in it as if they were a seed where everything was hidden until it germinated in the tree of the New Testament.

In praying the psalms, I think the Lord did not give me the gift of poetry, but the divine poet placed his poems on my tongue that I might speak to him through them.

Five decades of singing without music

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