The Grace of those 1980s Hymns

I was born in the mid-1980s, and the majority of my early faith formation happened in the 90s. There are many good things that came out of that era, but it’s not a period known for beautiful liturgical music. The Marty Haugen and Gather book songs of my childhood were catchy, and somewhat beautiful in their own way. But, to be honest, they aren’t any comparison to the great, classic hymns of the Church.

When I was a child (and even a teenager) I didn’t know any different. They were the church songs of my youth and I loved them. As an undergraduate and then a graduate in theology, I started noticing little things about these hymns – fluffy (or worse, inaccurate) theology, tunes that could grate on the nerves of someone over the age of ten, etc.

As a theology student, I met people from all different backgrounds and walks of life, including people with a more refined sense of liturgy. A part of me began to feel guilty for loving those Gather book hymns.

I’ll admit, these friends of mine did begin to pull me over to their side. Hymns like, “O God Beyond All Praising” and “All Creatures of Our God and King” are more profound and theologically true than hymns that proclaim, “Not in the dark of buildings confining, not in some heaven light years away, but here in this place, new light is shining…” (I love you so much, “Gather Us In”…why couldn’t you just have stopped before that last verse?!) Many of the songs of my childhood either have bad theology or –at best – a more surface level theology.

DSC08549If all of this is true, then why do I still love those songs?

I feel guilty even admitting this, but, the truth is – I love those hymns of my childhood. Despite their cheesy lyrics and less than majestic tune, I love them. Recently, I realized why that is, and why there is something redeemable about these hymns.

For men and women of my generation, these hymns were our first introduction to the faith. Many of us may have had no real interest in our faith as children, while some of us may have had a profound love of our faith from the start. Some of us may have not have been raised in a family practicing their faith, while others of us may have been fed our catechesis with our peas and carrots.

It seems like, for better or for worse, many of those who dislike those hymns from the 1970s or 1980s, either fall into one of two categories. Some of these people were raised in a more liturgically traditional parish, and their childhood memories are full of good, old traditional hymns. (For the record, even in my average parish of the 1990s, not all of our hymns were newer ones, and it is for precisely that reason that I have a love for “Tantum Ergo” and “Lift High the Cross.) Others were raised in more “modern” parishes, but didn’t really “find” their Catholic faith until young adulthood. Those who fall in this category tend to have a somewhat more refined taste for liturgy, having the maturity and inclination to learn about best liturgical practice from the start. I have many very dear friends who fall in both of these categories.

However, I think that many of the men and women currently in their 20s and 30s grew up like I did, and have some vague memory of and maybe even affection for hymns like “On Eagle’s Wings” and “Blest are They.” In much the same way that timeless, classic hymns stir the minds and hearts of many generations, these hymns stir the minds and hearts of many in our generation. Yes, we love the classic hymns, but we also find something special in these hymns of our childhood.

The reason for that is simple. Whether or not we realize it, these hymns are our earliest love songs.

My husband and I have been married for six years. We haven’t been married long enough for the songs we first danced to to become “retro” or “out of date,” but it’s only a matter of time. Years from now, we’ll hear the songs we danced to in college, and roll our eyes at their cheesiness. But despite that, those old songs will still stir something inside of us. They’ll stir memories of the time when we first fell in love.

Now, obviously, our love has grown beyond that point. We aren’t still staying up talking until 2am every night, or trying to get the other one to start laughing when we’re supposed to be doing homework. Our love has matured. The songs that matter to us has matured.

Yet, despite that, the songs of our dating years will always matter to us, too. They will always have been a part of our story, and when we occasionally hear them, they will help us remember those first sparks of love for each other.

So it is with these hymns. Even the hymns that are so theologically inaccurate that they make me cringe – their melodies and even their lyrics remind me of the early days of my faith. They remind me of a time in my life when I was first learning about God, His love for me, and the Church I was being raised in. They remind me of a time when I first began to fall in love with God. They remind me of memorable moments in my faith journey (I can never hear, “Jesus, Come to Us” and not think of my First Communion day). These songs – though outdated and not of the highest quality – still matter to me. When I hear them, they still stir those feelings of love for the God who loved me first.

The Church is a Church of “both and,” so it seems appropriate to embrace those cheesy hymns of childhood right alongside the majestic, timeless hymns that endure. Even if they lack liturgical grandeur, it helps to remember that God often works in little, unexpected things – even in folk hymns from the 80s.

Michele Chronister

Michele Chronister

Michele Chronister is a theologian (married to a theologian), mother to two little girls, and freelance writer on the side. She is received her BA and MA in theology from the University of Notre Dame (’09 and ’11) but her favorite way to use her degrees is answering her preschooler’s questions about faith at bedtime. She is the author of Handbook for Adaptive Catechesis and the co-author of Faith Beginnings – Family Nurturing from Birth Through Preschool (both published through Ligouri publications). She has also contributed articles to Catholic Digest and Catechetical Leader, and is a member of the National Catholic Partnership on Disability’s Council on Intellectual and Development Disabilities. When he oldest was a baby, she realized that their family life had taken on a sort of monastic rhythm – eat, pray, play, sleep. Prompted by this, she started the blog My Domestic Monastery (www.mydomesticmonastery.com), where she shares inspiration for families wanting to grow in holiness.

Leave a Replay

17 thoughts on “The Grace of those 1980s Hymns”

  1. Good for you Michele ! Although much older, I sang in an adult choir the …well, they
    weren’t cheesy to me, songs. “Gather us in” is sublime in many ways. it is what
    Pope Francis is trying to do today. All creatures of our God and King is probly my
    favorite, it’s creation theme right in line with Laudato Si. At Christmas it’s “Patience People” A John Foley SJ.. gem. Thanks for explaining this to the many hymn critics
    who think otherwise.

  2. This is a touching but disturbing article. We all find such songs lyrical and sentimental and that’s quite okay, but they are out of place at Holy Mass. They are not liturgical and inappropriate to Catholic worship. Outside of Holy Mass they are harmless and some are actually pleasing but they have caused great violence to Catholicism; for as people pray, so do they believe. Whenever I hear this music, which has been and still is crammed down our throats at every Mass, I view it as an IV-drip that’s dropping poison bit by bit into the veins of Catholicism. Not immediately noticeable, but over time….

  3. Am I the only one who thinks “Gather Us In” sounds like a sea shanty? And “Song of the Body of Christ” is wishy-washy? But I do agree, some of the newer songs are terrific. I love “City of God”, “You Are Mine”, “Sing to the Mountains”, and “Here I Am, Lord”. I also love “Ubi Caritas”, “At That First Eucharist”, and other older hymns (and there is no need to change the lyrics to make them politically correct). We have such a wealth of lovely music, we should not settle for anything less than what reflects the beauty of the liturgy and the teaching of the Church. That means lyrics that are true to the Scripture and doctrine of the Church, and beautiful music.

    1. I loathe this song, “Gather us In” – words and melody are awful! But the absolute worst Marty Haugen song of all time is “There is Plenty of BREAD at the Feast of Life.” Bad theology, terrible melody for the reverence Holy Communion requires.

  4. There was an article about this on the Homiletic and Pastoral Review recently by Bill Kassel, called “The Great Catholic Music Debate.” It echoes your sentiments, and it reflects my approach to using this music in worship. I commend it to your reading.

    A thought, though: While this is the millennial experience of these songs, they were, for the people who wrote and first sang them, a more or less conscious rejection of their own first love songs.

    And another thought, from Paul Hume: consider the responsibility of the educator in Catholic schools, who chooses what these first love songs will be.

  5. Unfortunately with the modern amplification of sound, the musical insruments drown out the people singing, to the point where they stop singing.

    I enjoy music, but not to the point where my ears are ringing after we leave Church.

    1. Sadly this is increasingly necessary in spaces not built with a natural acoustic. This is not the environment in which the techniques of choral singing were evolved, and so it militates against the traditional music and traditional choir. It is a vicious cycle.

      1. If the instruments drown out the singing, or reduces participation, it basicaly degrades the reason we come to Church.

        I would hazard to guess, the vast majority of churches are not built
        to acustic standards, but yet convey the message of Christ, in their simplicity.

        After the Last Supper, hymns were sung, without the instrumentation that is now staple in many churches.

        I would much rather hear a simple cry of an infant, during meditation after receiving Communion, then the organ shaking the rafters. I would know I’m in a living Church.

      2. J_Bob,

        We come to Church to participate prayerfully and sacramentally. Nothing can degrade that inward participation; the Cross was not a very pleasant place, but it was a perfect sacrifice. That is the reason we come to church.

        If, however, you mean spoken and sung participation, that is much more possible to do well in a naturally acoustic space than a dead one, and the Church has known that for most of her life.

        A natural acoustic is the standard to which churches have been built for thousands of years, literally. Walk into almost any old church, built before 1950, and (if no one is praying) clap your hands. You will hear that for several seconds.

        The humblest country churches in my area, built without professional architects, without contractors, without excavators, of wood, brick, and plaster by the people who worshiped in them, are on the main acoustically perfect spaces.

        Those old churches are also spaces that take in a good deal of natural light and use it well, and spaces that have good enough insulation and airflow to remain comfortable in summer and winter alike.

        This is simplicity, not an expensive sound system, electric lights, and the HVAC that is the most expensive item in so many parish budgets. We build now presuming that we have these extravagances, so our buildings are actually very impractical. Our ancestors built efficient, well-lit, comfortable buildings in which it was possible to hear a person speaking in an elevated voice from the other end of the room. It is possible, and thrifty, to continue to do so.

        It is in this kind of space, though, that a congregation can truly find their voice, because it is *their* sound that carries through the space, not only the amplified sound of the musicians, who are able simply to get the sound going and let it spread.

        I do not understand how a baby making noise is more “living” than an live organist making what is perhaps an inordinate amount of noise on his instrument. In fact, this is why the use of recordings of any kind, whether music or voice, has been forbidden in liturgical worship since at least the time of Pius XII, because worship is the act of a living body.

    2. There is a church in my diocese which I sometimes attend if, for some reason I was not able to attend either Mass in my home parish. Their Sunday evenings are their “Youth Mass”. They have a “Praise Band” that is the acoustic equivalent of a Panzer tank division. I refer to the church as “The Church of the Holy Decibel”.

  6. These are the songs of my conversion, as we’re still forced to listen to them every Sunday. I think they’re fine outside of Mass but seem inadequate for the solemnity and beauty of Mass. For some reason, I particularly dislike the songs where we sing as if we were Jesus speaking, as in “You Are Mine”. That just seems really strange and discordant. As for growing up with them, I’m a bit disappointed that even my children will be growing up with these songs, though I purposefully play classic hymns (that I’ve never heard in church) for them at home.

    1. To balance the issue, it is good to remember that certain of the Proper Chants of the Mass that the Church prescribes in the Graduale Romanum, and that come down to us from time immemorial, are in the first-person, from the perspective of Christ, e.g., the Introit for Easter Sunday, “I have risen, and I am with you always, alleluia…” or the Communio, “Ego sum panis vivus,” “I am the living bread…”

      Then again, it is doubtful that these proper texts would ever have been sung congregationally. They served perhaps more as an object of prayerful meditation, the apt line of Scripture set to music, than as congregational hymns of praise, more along the lines of a reading.

  7. Personally, I would just like the opportunity to sing the old classical hymns of Mozart and others but in my kneck of the woods we are not even allowed to sing those old hymns as if they are heretical. If it isn’t one of the songs of the 1970s to 1990s and there isn’t a choir of short skirted jariatrics, it isn’t Catholic music. Sorry, I very soon will be jariatric myself so no offense intended but I really don’t think that most young people find this type of liturgy inspiring and until bishops, priests, and music directors realize this, we will continue to put our teens asleep and watch them walk out of the Church.

    Let me be clear, I am not saying that we should get rid of the 1980s hymns, but it would be nice to at least have an option. Out of the near 100 weekend Masses in my city, you will not find one where the truly Catholic music of our fathers are sung. Very sad indeed. It is like they are ashamed of their faith and they had to make it more Protestant. Was it really that bad for the folks who made these changes? Were they really that ashamed of being Catholic?

  8. One of the most recent improvements, in my estimation, is the newly ordained priest, sings the WHOLE Sanctus in Latin, at 7 AM mass. No instruments!

    At 1st, only a few older souls joiuned in, but now the whole congregation sings it, with gusto.

    P.S. We also sing the Agnus Die, again with gusto.

  9. I do not like most of the present music. Further, I almost hate the guitars, drums and the pounding of the piano in my Church. I despise the use of the term “Worship Space”, the large cadre of EMHC, some of whom “bless” children in the communion line, and people in the pews using hand gestures that are reserved to the priest or the so-called “presider”. So much liturgical beauty has been lost, it is almost a chore attending Mass. If it were not for the actual and substantial presence of Jesus I certainly would not waste the time to attend.

  10. There is no place for such songs in divine worship. They were a mistake to begin with, and remain a mistake no matter how emotionally attached we may be to them, or how fond of our (often regrettable) memories.

    The article reads, to me, as if it’s saying: “When I was a child, auntie gave me poison cookies. I know, I know…. but they were soooo good, and her house was so much fun. Whenever I see these poison cookies today, it brings back so many happy memories….”

  11. I love leaving mass singing and hearing others do so. Many newer hymn are not singable for congregations because of odd timing and meters and often, not melodious, let alone worthy of choir parts. Classic, traditional hymns reflect music of the 1700s and 1800s. Really, we can change the text of the Bible and rites of mass every few years, but cannot have hymns with memorable melodies?! I so miss the hymns of the 1970s and 1980s. I was much more engaged in mass. The idea that people left the church because of changes of Vatican 2 is ludicrous – eastern rights that remain traditional also experienced loss. As long as the text is not heretical, it should remain an option

Leave a Comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

Sign up for our Newsletter

Click edit button to change this text. Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit