Halloween has become a national spectacle that ranges from cute to the macabre. In a culture that tries to forget death in daily life, it breaks forth dramatically and briefly each year, though in a way that trivializes it. Through the Solemnity of All Saints and the Feast of All Souls, we have an important moment to refocus our attention on the Communion of Saints and to connect with death in a healthy and holy way.
The Catholic tradition, focused on the need of the dead to receive purification for the effect of sins after death, has emphasized praying for the dead. The chief means has been celebrating a Requiem Mass for the souls of the faithful departed (those who have died in sanctifying grace but were not perfected by grace before death). Saying Mass for the dead is an ancient practice that became very important in medieval spirituality, particularly under the influence of the Abbey of Cluny, which had hundreds of dependent monasteries throughout Europe and promoted the feast of All Souls.
The Requiem is a special set of prayers for the Mass with the opening word of the introit, sung at the beginning of Mass, being requiem (rest or repose). Its most famous text, however, comes from its sequence, the hymn prayed before the Gospel, the Dies Irae (the Day of Wrath). Composed in the 13th century, perhaps by Bl. Thomas Celano, its musical setting has become one of the most popular melodies in music history, being incorporated into many works of classical music and even finding its way into movies. It begins about minute nine in the following recording of the complete Gregorian chant Requiem Mass.
There are many examples of beautiful settings of the Requiem Mass in classical music. Its emphasis on the afterlife makes it particularly poignant and inspirational. Through the moving melodies, we can be led to reflect on our connection to our departed loved ones and to reflect on our own deaths. Mozart’s Requiem (1791), in particular, stands out as one of the most arresting works of classical music. Composed at the end of his life, though left incomplete and finished by one of his students, it provides his final word.
My favorite Requiem Mass is from Gabriel Fauré (1891), more ethereal than Mozart’s which enables it hit all the more powerfully when the music intensifies (for instance, in the middle of the Sanctus, beginning at minute fourteen and a half). The most famous piece from this Mass setting comes from the very last stanza of the Dies Irae, Pie Iesu Domine, dona eis requiem (Merciful Jesus, give them rest), the only part of the Dies Irae in his setting, which begins about minute eighteen. This setting offers more consolation than terror, for which it was criticized (compare it to Verdi’s Requiem, particularly at minute ten). Fauré responded: “It has been said that my Requiem does not express the fear of death and someone has called it a lullaby of death. But it is thus that I see death: as a happy deliverance, an aspiration towards happiness above, rather than as a painful experience.”
The Requiem should provide both a sober reminder of the Lord’s judgment, as we see in the Dies Irae: “The day of wrath, that day / will dissolve the world in ashes / David being witness along with the Sibyl. / How great will be the quaking, / when the Judge is about to come, / strictly investigating all things.” But it should also offer us hope if we turn to the Lord and beg his mercy for ourselves and our loved ones: “Tearful that day, / on which from the glowing embers will arise / the guilty man who is to be judged. / Then spare him, O God. / Merciful Lord Jesus, / grant them rest. Amen.” During the month of November, and throughout the whole year, let’s bring our departed loved ones to the Lord in prayer that he may spare them and have mercy on them.
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