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Christopher Wemp
Music as a Vessel for Revelation

“‘Ring Out, Ye Crystal Spheres!’: Thoughts on Music, Revelation, and Liturgy” by Jan

Michael Michael Joncas is a gem of a journal article. Packed with theological considerations on

how liturgical music can act in a revelatory way, Joncas masterfully invites readers into a

nuanced conversation on the intersection of music, revelation, and liturgy. Perhaps most

inspiring is that all of his musings seep with appreciation for the ineffable mystery of God that

would bring to bear such a conversation in the first place.

Joncas begins with outlining a classical notion of how the universe was ordered as

according to writers like John Milton and Dante Alighieri, in which Joncas notes that a

geocentric model of cosmology was favored above Galileo’s heliocentric model (Joncas 34).

This geocentric model allowed for the belief that the planets in our solar system traveled in

concentric spheres, all of which was encompassed by heaven. The motion of these spheres

normally created harmony that human senses could not detect; when Milton crafted the stanza

“Ring out, ye crystal spheres!”, he was actually asking that this harmony be made audible to

humans as a locus of revelation (Ibid. 35). Using this example as a starting place, Joncas notes

that our cosmology has changed, but that there is a still a need today to conceptualize how

revelation, music, and worship come to bear on the Roman Catholic’s life today (Ibid. 36).

To discuss revelation, Joncas first reminds us that there are different types of revelation.

After describing the difference between “general” (reflecting on the world and on humanity) and

“special/particular” (knowledge of God that a person cannot ascertain without the Holy Spirit’s

inspiration) revelatory experiences, Joncas posits that music is, in itself, capable as a vessel of

revelation (Ibid. 37). Crucially, he reminds the reader what he actually means by “music,” and
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dismisses the cliche that music is a “universal language” by noting ethnomusicological research

that persuasively considers music interpretation to be subject to the same cultural boundaries as

other cultural elements such as language and tradition (Ibid. 38). With these definitions and

conditions now in place, Joncas posits that music, particularly in its “pure form as nontexted

sound,” can reveal information about the world to us and, as a result, information about God who

created the world (Ibid.)

Here, Joncas brings Edward Foley into the conversation to raise five claims that support

his statement about music as revelation. In brief summary, he shares that hearing sound makes

time audible, which can be then compared to the timeless and permanent nature of God (Ibid.).

Sound brings humans face to face with that which cannot be touched or seen, yet can be can felt

and experienced in an elusive way, just as our God can (Ibid). Listening to music engages us in a

participatory experience that can bring us to contemplate God offering all that is as gift to us and

accepting our very selves as return gift, should we choose to participate in such an exchange

(Ibid). Hearing music is also an intensely personal experience that can then render interior

feelings available to share with the surrounding community; this could be perceived as a

metaphor for God who chose to share Godself through God’s own interiority: the Word (Ibid).

Tying this together with liturgy, Joncas shows how music correlates with the Church’s

fundamental components of the liturgical celebration. He splits his discussion into six categories

he finds crucial to liturgy: ​kerygma ​(proclamation), ​didache​ (teaching), ​koinonia ​(communion),

diakonia (​ service), ​martyria (​ witness), and ​leitourgeia​ (worship) (Ibid. 39). In each category,

Joncas shows what role music plays, and how being mindful of what purpose a liturgist or music

director has when programming a particular piece of music can make for an even greater
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opportunity for the song to act in a revelatory manner. Not one to merely speak of such

constructs, Joncas concludes his writing with a personal example of how he experienced music

in a revelatory way, and why he thought he was impacted in such a way.

I see the rich, heartfelt conversation that Joncas offers in this paper as profoundly

important for the life of the Church. Particularly as I begin to develop workshops and support

materials for music directors, music ministers, and liturgists in the Diocese of San Jose, I see this

paper being a locus of conversation for several distinct reasons. First, Joncas’ discussion of

“revelation” diffuses the myth that revelation can only happen to a privileged few in a specific

way. I see this as an invitation for all those gather for worship and who live “ordinary” lives to

simply reflect on how God might be present to them on a daily basis. Though Joncas does not

name Corbon and Congar, these authors are certainly present in his reflections. As can be found

in ​At the Heart of Christian Worship: Liturgical Essays of Yves Congar​, we are urged to avoid

the idea of a sense of “sacred” that is explicitly linked to tangible things; rather, we are to always

understand that love is present in a sacred way that surrounds us and calls us into communion

with God (Congar 124). By being receptive to Joncas’ invitation to consider the mysterious ways

in which revelation can be experienced, we can resist the temptation to emphasize the liturgy so

much that we become pressured to create a liturgical experience which assumes it is the only

locus of revelation, and thus strays dangerously close to idolatry.

Moving into the heart of Joncas’ writing, his musings on liturgical music offer depth of

contemplation when considering the discernment that music directors and liturgists assumedly

engage in when selecting music for liturgy week after week. First, his willingness to name

instrumental music as opportune for revelation challenged my own practice of favoring liturgical
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music selections that contain sung text so as to invite the worshipping body into more active and

participatory singing. However, dwelling on the notion of instrumental music being revelatory,

and not just a necessity should the offering of the gifts and preparation of the table take place

quickly enough so that a sung piece of music wouldn’t “fit,” was a refreshing and rejuvenating

exercise. As Joncas pointed out, we still participate in music when we listen to it, and, should we

receive formation in our listening practice, can come to contemplate deeper realities when we

engaging in such listening.

From a pastoral perspective, I also thought of Corbon’s discussion of the ebb and flow of

the river of life that springs from God and returns to God through Christ, and how the wellspring

of worship is not something to be grasped or assumed but rather something to which we

surrender (Corbon 130). I imagine, for instance, that a piece of carefully chosen instrumental

music could offer the worshipping congregation a moment to participate in music not by singing,

but by listening, reflecting, and being still. This in itself has capacity to be profoundly

participatory. as long as it is not abused or used as a crutch to avoid the work of selecting hymns

that are purposefully wedded to the scripture and seek to help the congregation enter more

deeply into the liturgy. I find Joncas’ perspective critical in expanding the understanding of what

musical participation is, and how we might be able to participate by listening, by playing, and by

surrendering ourselves more readily to the ebb and flow of the potentially revelatory exchange

that takes place when we gather to worship.

Perhaps of most importance to me, to the Church, and to the people of faith is Joncas’

linking of music to distinct moments in the liturgy, all while being mindful that we as humans

cannot fully predict nor account for the ways that music might play an impact on a worshipping
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assembly. In my lived experience as a liturgical musician, the selection of music can be a

contentious process that is more reflective of personal opinion than deep reflection on the impact

they may play on the liturgical experience of those gathered. By naming six fundamental

components of liturgical celebration, Joncas reminds us that when we talk about “music at

​ e select music. For Joncas, the answer that a song “is

mass,” we also need to consider ​why w

related to the readings” would not be sufficient. Instead, ​why d​ o we desire to place this particular

song at this particular place in the liturgy? What is it that we hope the music might render forth

in the communal body, and to what degree are we attached to such a desired outcome?

This creative tension between prescriptive choice and openness to the workings of the

Spirit are present in Joncas’ categories; importantly, he challenges readers not to lock themselves

into immovable categories that oppose the creative mystery that is God, but to prayerfully reflect

on the type of music we choose and if our own biases may lead us to an imbalance in our own

preparation. For example, in my own reflection with these categories, I found that my comfort is

to favor music selections that focus on ​diakonia (​ service) and ​martyria (​ witness). This is also

true when considering my liturgical music compositional practice. Going forward, I will hold the

six categories close to heart, not to be overly critical of myself nor of my music-selecting

colleagues, but to be even more mindful that music selections strive to point us toward the

ineffable mystery that is God rather than project a personal interpretation of God. As Joncas

astutely observes, the very act of linking different areas of the brain when joining together

breath, muscular activity, and audio interpretation makes music capable of carrying a deeper

emotional impact (Joncas 39). Bearing this power in mind, it is all the more important for liturgy

and music directors to ensure that musical selections always seek to draw the faithful ever nearer
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to the Mystery, and that they do so with humility and willingness to surrender to the revelatory

God.

Works Cited

Corbon, Jean, and Matthew J. O'Connell. The Wellspring of Worship. Ignatius Press, 2005.

Joncas, Jan Michael. “Ring Out, Ye Crystal Spheres!: Thoughts on Music, Revelation, and

Liturgy.” Liturgy, vol. 31, no. 1, Aug. 2015, pp. 34–41.,

doi:10.1080/0458063x.2015.1083797.

Philibert, Paul Philibert. At the Heart of Christian Worship: Liturgical Essays of Yves Congar.

Liturgical Press, 2010.