| OCR Text |
Show 5 -and thought. The words were the Church'r, ancient ones, in the Greek of St. Paul's converts. The melody was undated, strange yet thoroughly American. It was Hopi Indian. The Mass of St. Isaac Jogues from St. Christopher's Mission, framed a Eucharist in a Texas parish church. The choir of boys and girls ranged in age from 9 to 16 years. They had rehearsed with diligence week after week. Some had sung in our regular choir; some had had no vocal training at all. Few possessed any particular aptitude for very low notes followed by very high ones, nor for the pronunciation of Navajo words. But the Mass was too great an adventure to abandon. So they rehearsed, and learned. A few even caught themselves singing fragments of the melodies spontaneously. On the first Sunday after the Epiphany, 1961, St. Mark's Fellowship Choir sang the Mass of St. Isaac Jogues at the principal parish service. A clarinet was used as the only accompaniment to the ordinary of the Mass, approximating in feeling the primitive Navajo f1ute. The organ-accompanied congregational hymns were ardently missionary in character. The sermon said Missions are God's business, and He has made them ours. The Mass continued with the music of converts as the Omaha Sanctus spoke simple awe, the Zuni Agnus Dei was full of longing, and the Navajo Gloria exulted. After the last hymn our young people sighed their relief and then grinned with the joy of a job well done. For our people listening there were other feelings. To many, the Indian melodies seemed to bring the Mass closer than did the traditional plainsong or Merbecke. The clarity of young voices and primitive tunes matched the words of an intense, young and primitive church. And most of us felt again more strongly what we know and love, but lost sight of, that the Mass is of the present to every time and people. Charles and Joan Beachley |
