The Gloria in excelsis, on which we have been meditating (here, here, and here), is sometimes contrasted with the Te Deum, since every time the former is said or sung at Mass the latter is said or sung in the Divine Office. But one difference between the two hymns is that the much shorter Greater Doxology places a greater emphasis on divine glory than its longer cousin. Whereas the Te Deum mentions glory twice (once in reference to God and once in reference to ourselves), the Gloria in excelsis uses “glory” or “glorify” four times:
Gloria in excelsis Deo (Glory to God in the highest)
Glorificámus te (We glorify Thee)
Gratias ágimus tibi propter magnam gloriam tuam (We thank Thee on account of Thy great glory)
Tu solus Altíssimus, Jesu Christe, cum Sancto Spíritu in gloria Dei Patris (Thou alone, O Jesus Christ, art most high, with the Holy Ghost in the glory of God the Father)
Let us look at each in turn.
“Glory to God in the Highest”
As we noted earlier, Gloria in excelsis Deo can either mean that all glory belongs to God or that all glory should go to God. Either way, the divine has a special purchase on glory. In the Old Testament, the “glory of the LORD” (kavod YHWH) was a palpable presence in places such as Mount Sinai, the Tabernacle, and the Temple. It could also be terrifying, as when the glory of the Lord appeared as a burning fire atop Mount Sinai.
The Hebrew noun kavod is derived from the word for “weight” and is etymologically related to “armament.” Kavod has genuine heft, worth, and value, which is why it naturally elicits praise. But as the sight of the Lord’s glory on Mount Sinai attests, it is also associated with brightness or light. In liturgical Latin (especially the Roman orations), kavod in general is translated as gloria while the luminous aspect of glory is translated as claritas. [1] Centuries earlier, the authors of the Septuagint chose to translate kavod as doxa (appearance or opinion) rather than the other alternative, kleos (fame, reputation), possibly because kleos was too closely associated with the peacocking exploits of Homeric heroes like Achilles and Odysseus. The choice helped shape the important concept of orthodoxy, which means both right belief and, as we are about to see, right worship (the right giving of glory to God).
Kavod YHWH on Mount Sinai
“We Glorify Thee”
According to the Gloria in excelsis, we glorify God. And yet if all glory is already His, how is it possible for us to give Him any more? On the other hand, the human glorification of God lies at the very heart of the Mass, for as St. Thomas Aquinas teaches, “The end of divine worship is that man may give glory to God and submit to Him in mind and body.” [2] Moreover, in addition to describing divine glory, the Bible speaks of Israel, do-gooders, and even the sun, the moon, the stars, and a woman’s head of hair as possessing some glory. [3]
For St. Basil the Great, “glory is nothing other than the recounting of the wonders that belong” to someone or something. [4] Creatures do this naturally and without words; sunlight, for example, is “the glory of the sun.” [5] Rational creatures, on the other hand, glorify God by choice. The only way that humans glorify the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit is by “expounding their wonders as best we can.” [6] And yet paradoxically, there is a way in which even this “exposition” is a gift from God, a participation in or sharing of divine glory. “He that glorieth, let him glory in the Lord,” St. Paul writes. “For not he who commendeth himself is approved, but he whom God commendeth.” [7]
“We thank Thee on Account of Thy Great Glory”
St. Paul’s statement may also shed light on the next verse of the Angelic Hymn. I find it rather curious that of all the things for which to thank God, His “great glory” is singled out, as opposed to His creating us, blessing us, or redeeming us.
Perhaps the reason is twofold. First, God’s glory is a triumph for us that fills us with joy. When my favorite team wins the championship, I give glory to them, but I also feel elevated and better off as a result. Indeed, insofar as I am a loyal fan, I share some of their glory, which is why I proudly festoon myself or my front yard or my pickup with their team colors and images of their mascots.
And I feel this way even if my team doesn’t know me from Adam: they don’t know that I scream at the TV when the ref makes a bad call; they don’t know that I defend their honor at sports bars; they don’t even know that I exist. But imagine—and this brings us to the second reason—if your favorite team not only knew of you, but loved you singularly, and that when they scored the winning point they looked for you in the stands and, when they found you, blew you a kiss and victoriously pumped a fist in the air. Such is the way that Christians feel about their God, for the Father gave the Son glory and the Son shared that glory with His adopted sons through the Holy Spirit. [8] When God approves of us, Saint Paul writes, He commends us; He compliments us, He congratulates us.
In a magnificent essay entitled “The Weight of Glory,” C.S. Lewis describes the promise of our glorification at the end of time as “almost incredible” because it implies that God actually likes us, that despite our sins He will not simply tolerate our presence but deliriously approve of us:
The promise of glory is the promise, almost incredible and only possible by the work of Christ, that some of us, that any of us who really chooses, shall actually survive that examination, shall find approval, shall please God. To please God...to be a real ingredient in the divine happiness...to be loved by God, not merely pitied, but delighted in as an artist delights in his work or a father in a son—it seems impossible, a weight or burden of glory which our thoughts can hardly sustain. But so it is.
Yes, we are certainly grateful for God’s great glory.
Or, at least we used to be. I wonder if there is a certain contemporary prejudice against the concept of glory; perhaps it strikes the modern ear as outdated or jingoistic or even fascist. This prejudice does not exist worldwide. In modern Hebrew, “Good fortune!” (Mazel Tov) is said in response to good events and “All the glory!” (Kol HaKavod) in response to good deeds. When a baby is born, Israelis say Mazel Tov; but when someone knits a baby an adorable pair of mittens, they say Kol HaKavod.
The original ICEL translation of the Mass seems to have had an allergy to glory. It omitted “we glorify Thee” altogether, and it deleted “great” from “on account of Thy great glory.” (It also inexplicably replaced “we give Thee thanks” with “we praise Thee.”) Fortunately, the 2011 translation corrected these errors. That said, the 1970 Missal mentions glory far less than does the historical Roman Mass: the Gloria in excelsis is not used so often, and all the Lesser Doxologies (the Gloria Patri) were removed.
“In the Glory of God the Father”
Jesus Christ and the Holy Spirit, we declare, are in the glory of God the Father. By making this confession the final verse, the Angelic hymn begins and ends with the glory of God the Father. It also tightly summarizes one of the great themes of the Gospel according to Saint John: the glorification that takes place within the Holy Trinity. Jesus Christ’s entire mission on earth is to glorify the Father by establishing a Church, and the Father in turn glorifies the Son. And it does not take much brainpower to conclude that the Holy Spirit glorifies both and is glorified by both.
St. Basil the Great
Or perhaps it does. St. Basil battled a group of heretics called the Pneumatomachians or “Spirit-fighters” who argued that glory should not be given to the Holy Spirit on the grounds that He was not a Divine Person. Basil easily refuted their argument by noting all the places in the Scriptures that creatures are given glory and then asking them:
While so many are being glorified, do you wish the Spirit alone to be without glory? “The dispensation of the Spirit,” Scripture says, “comes in glory.” How, then, is He unworthy of being glorified? According to the Psalmist, great is the glory of the just, but according to you, the glory of the Spirit is nothing. How, then, is there not an evident danger that from such words they bring inevitable sins from themselves? If the man who is saved by works of righteousness glorifies even those who fear the Lord, he would not defraud the Spirit of the glory that is owed to Him. [9]
The Gloria in excelsis is one of the ways that we do not defraud the Spirit of the glory that is owed Him.
Music
The Greater Doxology, then, exults in God’s great glory. But this theme is vulnerable to the musical setting that accompanies it. The right settings, such as the chants from the Liber Usualis or the works of many classical composers, reinforce and enhance the hymn’s meaning while other compositions, especially those of a more recent vintage, undermine or subvert it.
My argument is this. Whether it is the kavod YHWH that God alone possesses or the “weight of glory” that Christian disciples bear, glory is “heavy”—it may be a cause of joy, but it always has gravitas. Therefore, any music that lacks gravitas should not be used with a hymn about glory. Robert Cardinal Sarah has speculated that “the massive loss of enthusiasm for attendance at the Sunday Mass” can in part be attributed to celebrations that are “wholly cheerful in spirit.” [10] I am inclined to agree with His Eminence, but even if he is not right, we can still safely say that a musical setting for the Gloria that is wholly cheerful in spirit—e.g., it is cheesy or sentimental or perfect for an upbeat liturgical dance—is missing the point. Using sappy music to illuminate the LORD’s kavod is like having a Dixieland jazz band perform Puccini’s “Vincerò” with lots of comical glissandos from the slide trombone. Man can find a better way to glorify God.
Notes
[1] Sr. Mary Pierre Ellebracht, Remarks on the Vocabulary of the Ancient Orations in the Missale Romanum (Nijmegen: Dekker & Van de Vegt, 1963), 24.
[2] Finis autem divini cultus est ut homo Deo det gloriam, et ei se subiiciat mente et corpore. ST II-II.93.respondeo.