Entering the Mystery: The Song of the Lamb

 Entering the Mystery: The Song of the Lamb

By Marge Hynes, Writer

“The liturgy derives its greatness from what it is, not from what we make of it.”
—Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger, The Spirit of the Liturgy

Usually, my book collection grows at a rate that suggests a minimalist intervention is long overdue. But while most titles eventually find a safe little home tucked on the shelf, The Song of the Lamb: Sacred Music and the Heavenly Liturgy (Ignatius Press) is the first in a long time to demand such relentless underlining, highlighting, and dog-earing.

Structured as a conversation between Robert Cardinal Sarah and Peter Carter, the text dives headfirst into the heated friction between traditionalists and modernists, the Extraordinary Form versus the Novus Ordo, and the whole liturgical culture kit and caboodle.

Thankfully, the authors don’t settle for picking a side. Instead, they pivot to a much more important question: 

“Who is God in our worship?” 

Whether you are a cleric, a church musician, or a volunteer in the pews, you should probably go ahead and add this to your collection, too.

The Liturgy is Received

It’s very clear to me that Robert Cardinal Sarah and Peter Carter are just as “fired up” as I am about not just music, but the Mass itself. The heartbeat of their dialogue is a blunt challenge to the modern ego: the liturgy isn’t something we “produce,” it’s our participation in Christ’s Paschal Sacrifice. As Cardinal Sarah puts it, “He instituted the unfathomable gift that perpetually connects earth to heaven” (30).

If the Mass is truly “the gate of heaven” (35), then we can’t let it be held hostage by personal taste.

Having served in praise and worship settings for several years, I found their conversation, for lack of a better word, convicting: if “because I like it” is not a valid criterion for doctrine, it cannot be a valid criterion for liturgy (50). To truly enter into the mystery, we must be willing to set aside our own preferences the second they are not “worthy of the temple” (41–42).

The Mass is not about you. It’s not about me. It’s about God. Everything in the liturgy should point toward that reality. We are talking about the God who spoke the entire universe into existence. The God of the cosmos. The God who knit you in your mother’s womb. The God who IS Love itself.

The Liturgy is an invitation into the heart of the Trinity. If you were in a relationship with someone you truly loved, a “once-in-a-blue-moon” check-in would feel like such heartbreak. That is the vulnerability of the Lord your God, present in His full Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity on the altar. He is there, waiting, and He is quite literally ‘faint with love‘ for you. How could we ever leave Him waiting?

Cardinal Sarah leaves us with another blunt challenge in this book:

“The fundamental question we must ask ourselves is, Who is God in my life? Does how I live my life communicate that He is truly the origin and goal of my existence, the one to whom I owe the totality of my being?” (149)

The Epiphany of Beauty

Cardinal Sarah notes that sacred music, when it is true art, is an “epiphany”—a literal manifestation of Beauty itself (25). Drawing on St. Thomas Aquinas and Benedict XVI, he reminds us that liturgical beauty isn’t just a nice, feel-good kind of sensation; it requires proportion, integrity, and splendor (43).

That puts a big spotlight on the “noise” we often bring into the sanctuary. When it comes to the musicians in the loft, the goal is to be invisible enough that only God is seen. If the music makes us look at the performer instead of the Creator, we’ve missed the point entirely (144–146).

Reading this forced me to examine my own assumptions as a musician. The Mass is Calvary made present. It is heaven opened. Does the music I pick for Mass actually reflect that reality?

Redefining “Active Participation”

One of my favorite insights from Cardinal Sarah is his take on Vatican II’s call for ‘actual participation.’ As a singer, I’m used to thinking of “participation” as doing, singing, leading, or filling up the space. But Sarah explains that it isn’t about constant external activity. Instead, our role is more like that of Saint John and the Virgin Mary, who participated in the Crucifixion through a “silent, loving presence” (77).

This reminds us that:

• Silence is not an absence: “Everything serious and divine originates in silence” (88).
• Music is born of silence: It is meant to lift our hearts to a place of adoration, not mere emotional stimulation (89).

If the Mother of God participated in the Sacrifice through silence, then surely I can at least learn to let my voice serve that same stillness.

Latin and the Sign of Unity

Having grown up with the Traditional Latin Mass before moving to the Novus Ordo in middle school, Cardinal Sarah’s defense of Latin really tugged on my heartstrings. He advocates for Latin as a vital sign of our catholicity. He warns that “if we lose Latin, we lose this shared bond with the Church throughout the world” (108).

What does he mean by that? Essentially, a shared sacred language prevents us from becoming closed off in our own cultural bubbles. Instead, it unites us with the Church Militant, Penitent, and Triumphant (154). I adore this imagery: when we sing in the language of the Church, we are joining a chorus that spans across time and every border on earth! How intentional is our God!

A Call to Love!

This book is a “work of love,” as Mother Abbess Cecilia Snell, OSB, notes in her endorsement. It challenges every member of the Body of Christ, priests, musicians, and laity alike, to examine whether our worship communicates transcendence or merely celebrates ourselves.

If we truly believe, as St. Faustina did, that the angels envy us the Eucharist, then our approach to the Mass must change.

Should YOU Read This Book?

As Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger noted in The Spirit of the Liturgy, the liturgy “derives its greatness from what it is, not from what we make of it.” If you are a musician, a member of the clergy, or a layperson longing to understand what the Church teaches about the “source and summit” of our faith, The Song of the Lamb belongs on your shelf!

If we truly believe Christ is present on the altar, then offering Him our very best, in music, in posture, and in prayer, is not “rigidity.” 

It is love.

Sine Dominico non possumus.
Without Sunday, we cannot live.
—The Forty-Nine Martyrs of Abitene

Cantare amantis est.
Singing belongs to the one who loves.
—Saint Augustine

Want to Go Deeper?

• Listen: Join Peter Carter as he discusses the book’s core themes and all things Sacred Music on
  A Resounding Yes! with our co-host Kaylee Stoll this Friday! Listen to this episode now on Spotify, Apple Podcasts, and Fio.
  
• Buy: Pick up your copy of The Song of the Lamb at Ignatius Press here.
  
• Pray & Listen: Mother Abbess Cecilia Snell, OSB., calls this work a “superlative” gift from the heart of Cardinal Sarah. Inspired by her endorsement, I’ve curated a selection of my favorite Latin Catholic music from the Benedictines of Mary, who consistently top my Spotify wrapped. Explore the playlist here.
  

---

With over eight years of experience and a Bachelor’s in Creative Writing, Marge Hynes is a dynamic writer whose portfolio spans SEO-driven copywriting, journalism, and marketing—a versatile skill set that allows her to craft compelling content for Paloma & Fig’s projects.

Marge’s Catholic faith serves as the cornerstone of her work. She approaches storytelling with thoughtfulness and a deep appreciation for the Lord’s own creative power. Her love of the written word shines through in every project, helping clients articulate their message with clarity, heart, and purpose.

When she’s not writing, Marge can be found leading praise and worship, diving into theological books, or exploring the great outdoors with her loyal dog, Augustine (Auggie for short).