Over at Open Books a discussion is going on about modern Catholic hymns.
Most are musically poor, which is not my concern at the moment.
Another issue has arisen. Some very popular and ever-present hymns were written by highly dubious characters. “Here I Am” by someone who seems to have a homosexual partner, and “Lord, You Have Come” by Robert Trupia, a priest who was defrocked for pedophilia. Trupia liked to work double entendres into his hymns.
Someone brought up Eric Gill, the Catholic artist who was into incest and bestiality. Campaigners against child abuse asked Westminster Cathedral to remove the stations of the cross that Gill had designed, and the Archbishop refused.
Where to draw the line? Il Sodomo will never be canonized, but are his paintings therefore unsuitable for any church? But if the art directly or slyly praises perversion (and some of Gill’s stuff is pretty direct) should it be cast out?
I was at a church at which they sang Trupia’s hymn, and knowing what he did and what he meant by the hymn, I was sickened and had to leave. But everyone else in blissful ignorance (I hope) sang a perverted message.
You may see a double entendre in the title of the song, but looking over the words to the song, I see no double entendres. Then, I noticed that Trupia translated the song from a Mexican song, so it's not even a Trupia original. Maybe there's a better example of Trupia's double entendre song writing?
Posted by: Fred K. | January 17, 2006 at 08:26 PM
I used to be quite an enthusiast for Gill's work. It's ruined for me now, not as a matter of principle (necessarily) but because I can't think about him without also thinking about his truly vile sexual habits. I'd like to hope that someone will discover it's all a massive slander, but apparently he kept a diary.
Posted by: Maclin Horton | January 17, 2006 at 09:52 PM
Lee,
You sure have put the campy narcissism of "Here I Am, Lord" in a new light for me. Why I always forget that song when I'm thinking of the worst offenders, I don't know.
Posted by: Tony Esolen | January 17, 2006 at 11:00 PM
Well, the case of Gill is ever so slightly more complex than you'd have it. Something to do with Original Sin. And 'habitus'. Anyway, since when did (holdnose/)Tradition in Action (/holdnose) become a reliable source?
Posted by: Aumgn | January 17, 2006 at 11:23 PM
I wanted to see the lyrics to the song you mentioned, and noticed that it was translated from Spanish, as was mentioned above. So that wouldn't bother me so much.
Madeleine L'Engle discusses the idea of sinners as artists in her book _Walking on Water: Reflections on Faith and Art_. One section goes: "I'm grateful that Bach's Christianity was realized in both his conscious and subconscious mind. But being a practising Christian is not part of the job description, and sometimes God chooses most peculiar people to be vessels of genius. My mother used to sigh because her beloved Wagner was such a nasty man. And I was horrified to have some students tell me that a lot of people actively disliked Robert Frost. How does one separate the art from the artist?
"I don't think one does, and this poses a problem. How do we reconcile atheism, drunkenness, sexual immorality, with strong, beautiful poetry, angelic music, transfigured paintings? We human beings don't, and that's all there is to it... "
But of course, much of the songs we sing are certainly not great art. But L'Engle points out a lot about how flawed we all are, and how God can work through us, even if we are flawed. (Or, in the cases of Beethoven or Homer, perhaps because we are flawed.)
Posted by: Katie Fanning | January 17, 2006 at 11:24 PM
Beethoven, Homer, Wagner, Poe, Wilde, Balaam's Ass (no pun intended... either way)
Posted by: Steve Nicoloso | January 17, 2006 at 11:38 PM
Interesting questions.
Art if it's any good works on us and affects our perceptions and reactions in ways that are hard to identify. So if the artist is unusually corrupt and embraces his corruption and introduces it into his art it probably makes sense to stay away from it. Judging from the link that seems to apply to Gill. Why trust him?
I think that especially applies in worship, since it involves a receptive and not critical state of mind. Why trust ourselves to Fr. Trupia? What was he really up to? It also especially applies today since the idea of art as a practice separate from the particularities of the artist is somewhat lost. So I don't think Il Sodoma is to the point even if he got his nickname from his personal habits. It would have been different if at the time the Church were in crisis because of a widespread campaign to revolutionize Catholic moral teaching, and he were part of it, but so far as I know that wasn't the case.
By the way, what's the problem with Homer? I thought nobody knew anything about him.
Posted by: Jim Kalb | January 18, 2006 at 06:08 AM
anyone ever see Anrei Tarkovsky's Andrie Rublev? It deals with this exact issue.
Posted by: Brian Gallagher | January 18, 2006 at 07:16 AM
Around 1991 I went to an address by Thomas Howard at Blacknall Presbyterian church in Durham, NC on exactly this subject--the relationship of the moral state of the artist to the art. There is obviously no easy correlation. I recall him mentioning a (hypothetical) example of the pious would-be artist Sr. Mary Margaret who reports that the Holy Spirit inspires her work but just produces absolute schlock. Likewise, and as people have already mentioned, you can have an aggressive sinner who yet uses his God-given capacities with intelligence and diligence to produce masterpieces.
Posted by: Gene Godbold | January 18, 2006 at 07:55 AM
A morally flawed artist can produce masterpieces. Wagner was a genius, but I sympathize with the Jews who can't stand listening to him because of his anti-Semitism.
However, I don't think anyone would claim that "Lord You Have Come" is a musical masterpiece, and Trupia was such an odious character, that I think the song could be deleted from the repertoire as a sign of consideration to sexual abuse victims.
Here is part of what I wrote about Trupia elsewhere:
Robert C. Trupia, known as the “chicken hawk” to his fellow priests, studied at St. John’s Seminary in Camarillo, California. After his ordination he was at St. Francis Church in Yuma in the Tucson diocese from 1973 to 1976. Ted Oswald, a former policeman who was then a Franciscan lay brother and who is now a priest, was talking to some boys at St. Francis of Assisi when they asked him if Trupia was queer; he asked what they meant. They told him that Trupia had been sodomizing them after Mass every week for two years. The brother had them write down their statement and sent it to the bishop. The chancellor of the diocese rebuked Oswald because “the statements could get priests into trouble.” Someone removed the boys’ statements from the Tucson diocesan file. Trupia was immediately transferred from Yuma to Tucson, and Bishop Francis J. Green made him vice-chancellor, head of the marriage tribunal, and a monsignor.
Trupia hosted a diocesan program called “Come and See” for young men with an interest in the priesthood, often taking the teenagers on trips to St. John’s Seminary. The title of the program was the subject of vulgar puns. In 1982 Trupia was caught at the seminary in bed with a student, and Cardinal Timothy Manning of Los Angeles reported the incident to Bishop Manuel D. Moreno of Tucson. It was not until 1988 that Trupia was banned from the campus, after he had sex in the bell tower with a young drug addict. Trupia may, like Bruce Ritter, have enjoyed planting public clues to his homosexuality. The titles of hymns that Trupia wrote are double entendres: “Gift of Love,” “Resucitó” (I will rise), and “Lord, You Have Come.”
Posted by: Lee Podles | January 18, 2006 at 08:11 AM
While Trupia cannot be regarded as a gifted translator or artist on the basis of these songs, there are mistakes in the quote found in Mr. Podles 8:11 am post. Trupia, as noted previously, did not write "Lord, You Have Come", nor did he write "Resuscito" which was written by Kiko Arguello, one of the founders of the NeoCatechumenal Way. Resucito does not mean "I will rise", it means "He is risen" or "He is Resurrected" and is the norma Spanish phrase found in resurrection accounts in Spanish versions of the Scriptures.
As for the song "Pescador de Hombres", I remember it fondly from my year in Colombia as an exchange student. It was often sung at prayer meetings and Mass. The opening line "Tu has venido a la orilla" is best translated as "You have come to the seashore". The song's refrain is about abandoning nets and boat on the shore to follow Christ, as did the Apostles.
Posted by: Steve Cavanaugh | January 18, 2006 at 08:24 AM
Since the Spanish version does include the phrase "tu has venido," or "you have come," I don't how much can be read into that. However, it does seem to me that other parts Trupia translation has been deliberately homoeroticized.
Here is the Trupia translation: http://www.cacaradicalgrace.org/conferences/buw/LordYouHaveCome.pdf.
Here is a translation by Gertrude Suppe, George Lockwood, and Rachel Guiterrez-Achon, whoever they are:
http://rockhay.tripod.com/worship/music/lakeshore.htm.
(There is also a translation, almost as popular as the Trupia one, by Fr. Willard Jabusch and called "Lord, When You Came," but I couldn't find the lyrics online.)
Compare the line "constant love that keeps on loving" (Suppe et al.) with "returning love for the love you gave me" (Trupia), or the description of Jesus as "my loving friend" (Suppe) with "my life's companion, my friend and refuge" (Trupia). My high school Spanish is rusty, but the Spanish version (provided in lame "phonetic form" for only the first two verses by the Suppe link, but, despite the self-sabotage, given in full at the Trupia link) seems to match the Suppe translation, not the Trupia version. If this mediocre hymn must be kept alive, let it not be in this deliberately homoerotic "translation."
Posted by: James Kabala | January 18, 2006 at 01:30 PM
Missing word alert: I meant to write, "I don't know how much can be read into that."
Posted by: James Kabala | January 18, 2006 at 01:31 PM
And, of course, "other parts OF THE Trupia translation HAVE been deliberately homoeroticized." I must remember to use the preview button next time. Nonetheless, despite the typos, I think I got my point across.
Posted by: James Kabala | January 18, 2006 at 01:37 PM
The comment about Homer was not about his immorality... L'Engle makes the point that great artists often have to overcome limitations, and in the case of Homer it was blindness. Sin and immorality can be seen as other limitations that could be overcome. But very different limitations, most assuredly.
Posted by: Katie Fanning | January 18, 2006 at 06:21 PM
When do an artist's sins affect his art?
David. Read the Psalms. Psalm 51, for example, is a beautiful work of art that derives from David's sin. Of course, it was an work repenting of his sin, not celebrating it.
Posted by: GL | January 19, 2006 at 02:11 PM
A work of art goes out into the world like a child of parents. The sinfulness of the parent will affect the child, corruption in the artist will affect the artist. But once it's out, it's out. The artwork takes on a life of its own. "Look what they've done to my song, Ma." Sr. Mary Margaret may, in fact, be receiving grace from the Holy Spirit to produce her offerings, such as they are. I recall Dwight L. Moody being reproved for his inferior use of the Queen's English, and he responded that he "hopes that he's honored God, and I hope you do the same with what you've got." (Not an exact quote.)
Posted by: Bruce | January 19, 2006 at 06:56 PM
The song "Lord you have Come" was originally written by Fr. Cesareo Gabarain (1936-1991), one of the best-known composers of Spanish liturgical music. The original song is called "Pescador de Hombres" (Fishers of men). I don't know who Robert Trupia is, but one thing is for sure, the English translation doesn't do any justice to the original version.
Posted by: Veronica | January 29, 2006 at 07:50 PM
In our hymnal (United Methodist #344), Cesareo Gabarain is given credit for the original text and music, with the translation by Gertrude C. Suppe, George Lockwood and Raquel Guttierez-Achon. If one finds something dark and sinister within these words I might wonder if it were a reflection of something inside of the reader rather than the poet. Sometimes beautiful things can be corrupted and perhaps this person you mention did write maliciously, and sometimes hymns are just that - hymns of praise. There isn't always a hidden, dark message. If those folks sang the hymn from a point of piety of their hearts, then I can find no fault in their expression.
Posted by: Ronn | January 25, 2007 at 11:58 AM
Judge liturgical art on its own merits and not those of the artist himself.
James may want to reconsider my statement about Podles coming close to the Donatist line.
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