Scottish Catholic Observer

As I write this, the month of May has just ended.  May… Our Lady’s month. Many of us have memories of May devotions; the singing of hymns such as Bring Flowers of the Rarest, processions of the First Communicants where the statue of Our Lady was crowned with flowers. Special efforts were made with May altars in churches, schools and even at home. And while devotion to Our Lady was part of the very fabric of our Faith, we all made a special effort during the months of May and October. Some say that there are places where these special efforts are no longer made.

The memories of which I write are not an example of mere nostalgia. The place given to Mary, the Mother of God, has remained constant throughout the ages. Love for Our Lady had a voice; that voice heard the singing of the Salve Regina in monasteries through the centuries, in the ringing of the Angelus, when the Faithful paused in their daily tasks to repeat the words of St Luke, in the saying of the Rosary, to give but a few examples.

But now? Have things begun to change? And if so, where does that change originate and what are the reasons for it?

A question asked by a church musician caught my attention in a recent issue of this newspaper. It broached the question of whether or not hymns to Our Lady could be sung during Mass or if this might be liturgically incorrect.  I have heard this mentioned by other church musicians. Generally speaking, clergy attest to the fact that there is no official directive supporting the banning of the singing of hymns to Our Lady during Mass, when this might be considered appropriate. The end result is confusion in some places.

Can the debate be extended to the saying of the Hail Mary at the end of the bidding prayers, or indeed the Memorare? This matters a great deal to the Faithful. They have strong feelings about it. I have to confess that this, in its entirety, puzzles me. Where are its origins? And, in a word; why? After all, the subject is not one which invites personal preferences.

Asking for Our Lady’s help in times of trouble is as natural to the Faithful as breathing. At this point, a certain Canon Ferrigan comes to mind. Having served as an army chaplain in the First World War, he was parish priest of Rosyth as the Second World War began. His parish, on the River Forth and with naval connections, was in a very vulnerable position. For the duration of the war, the canon gave the instruction that the hymn Hail Queen of Heaven was to be sung at the end of Sunday Mass. His purpose was clear. As it happened, Rosyth remained unharmed.

Ascension Thursday, Pentecost Sunday, Trinity Sunday… and on towards Corpus Christi. Like most church musicians, I tend to plan my summer holidays on the basis of the Liturgical year. And it is something of a comfort to stay within the confines of that Liturgical year when you see the kind of world that is developing outside. A certain red carpet must be all but worn out by the pointless strutting back and forth of celebrities wearing, in some cases, very expensive but unfortunate frocks accessorised by borrowed jewellery and fixed smiles.

This has been followed by more fixed smiles accompanied by a bit of patriotic thundering as the first phase of the campaign for Scottish independence was unveiled and the final notes of Hail Caledonia narrowly missed getting tangled up with the opening bars of the National Anthem as celebrations for the Queen’s Diamond Jubilee began, complete with the procession of the Royal Barge and flotillas on the Thames.

That over, we are being urged to become excited once again about the Olympic Games. Oh dear. Not a minute’s peace, it seems.

One thing does interest me in all of that though. It’s the barge loaded with giant bells, part of the Queen’s procession, to be rung, their peals echoed by church bells along the way.  Bells… church bells which have been all but silenced in recent times… and that thought leads to bells ringing the Angelus. From my window I can see the ruins of a 12th century Augustinian abbey. Only the bell tower, or campanile, remains intact.

In a corner of a pre-Reformation church near here is an ancient bell engraved with the words of St Luke; ‘Ave Maria, gratia plena…’ The abbey I write of was dedicated to Our Lady. I wonder…

I admit to having digressed in this piece, but it seems I just might have found my way back to the beginning. And if I can escape from this relentlessly manufactured excitement demanded from us all this summer, I shall go off  in search of one of my two favourite sounds—the sound of the sea. In its constancy it is like the heartbeat of the world in which we live. The other favourite sound, carried in my memory, is that of the Angelus bell, rung three times a day, which punctuated my childhood and youth. In these troubled times, wouldn’t it be a fitting re-affirmation of our devotion to Our Lady to bring back the ringing of the Angelus? And if, in fact, there are places where the devotion is not encouraged, perhaps a clear and official re-statement of the place which must be accorded to her would reassure the Faithful.

This morning, I received a letter from a young priest, which ended with the words ‘In Christ and Mary,’ which, in a way, says it all.