By CARDINAL JOHN J. O'CONNOR

VII (2) 'Who Sings Prays Twice' (St. Augustine)

It has become an Easter Sunday ritual. I look forward to it. After my Solemn Pontifical Mass, some 200 or more young Hispanic Charismatics wait for me in the Lady Chapel in the cathedral. They sing hymns for me in Spanish, accompanied by guitars. I speak to them, without a guitar. Then we sing together "Pescador"; re-enter guitars.

"Pescador," "The Fisherman," has become my favorite Hispanic hymn, although I have enjoyed it in Polish, as well, at the Shrine of Our Lady of Czestechowa in Poland.

Both poignant and personal, it haunts us with the call of the Lord. He looks into our eyes. Smiling, he call us by name. Little wonder, that by the hymn's haunting end we are ready to leave everything behind, to follow wherever he calls; even to the most distant shore. "Pescador" seems to me much that a hymn should be: musical, meaningful, moving. I find myself humming it every Easter Sunday afternoon, long after my young friends have left the cathedral. It strengthens me, strengthens my vocation, gives me hope.

Hymn-singing is one of the oldest forms of prayer known in either Christianity or Judaism. The exquisitely beautiful Book of Psalms consists of 150 songs, or hymns, originally played on stringed instruments. Ranging from the time of Moses to perhaps a few hundred years before Christ, they sing of war and of peace, of joy and of sorrow, of prophecy and of judgment, of worship, of loneliness, of anger and bitterness and despair, of adoration and jubilation. Every sentiment and every longing of the human heart finds expression in the Psalms. They are the living proof of Augustine's maxim: "To sing is to pray twice."

If hymn-singing is such a "natural" form of praying, why do so many Catholics seem to hate to sing? We know that hymns go back to at least the fourth century in the Church with St. Ambrose himself, teacher of St. Augustine, one of the earliest of hymn writers. Hymns did not enter the Church by way of the Protestant Reformation! Indeed, the Second Vatican Council says: "The musical tradition of the universal Church is a treasure of immeasurable value, greater even than that of any other art. The main reason for this pre-eminence is that, as sacred melody united to words, it forms a necessary or integral part of the solemn liturgy." (Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy, No. 112)

Some Catholics don't like to sing, I suspect, because they believe they can't. And they're right, if by "can't sing" they mean they'll never make it in the Metropolitan Opera. But if those same Catholics find themselves in a procession at Lourdes, in France, as part of a pilgrimage, they find themselves singing as lustily, or at least shouting as gustily, as everyone else in the procession. They are caught up in a spirit of devotion. The music and words of "Immaculate Mary" are so simple, so easy, so rhythmic, the pilgrim can hardly resist. Is it Mozart or Verdi? Not by a long shot. But it's simple and singable and memorable, especially when one is carrying a lighted candle at night.

Some Catholics don't like to sing, it seems to me, because too many modern hymns have become too sophisticated, both musically and linguistically. The gifted leader of song may master them skillfully and sing them effectively. He or she is either trained to do so or has natural talent. In such cases many of us prefer simply to listen, rather than to sing. The same is true when a parish is blessed with a good choir. But community singing is still highly desirable.

Many of us remember our childhood at novenas and other special devotions, when we seemed to sing easily and naturally. Perhaps some hymns were excessively sentimental, perhaps some were musically deficient. But we sang and we felt what we were singing. Even today I feel the haunting melody of "Resta con Noi," a lovely Italian hymn, when I celebrate Mass in Italian on Columbus Day. "Remain here with us, Lord." We need you, we want you, we love you.

The Second Vatican Council called for composers to give us singable compositions. But composers and choir directors can work their heads off without getting congregations to sing unless and until congregations feel what they are singing and feel comfortable in singing it. In my judgment, it is worth the time and effort to teach congregations some good, sound, staple hymns; to rehearse them over and over, until the congregation incorporates them into its very being. It is not enough for a song leader to rehearse a tune or two. Nor do I believe a congregation's repertoire need be endless. What happens when old-timers get together in a festive mood? They are prone to reminisce with old-time songs, stabbing at the words, feeling the music, reliving meaningful experiences.

"Pescador." It's not an oratorio. It's a hymn. It makes you think, it makes you feel, it makes you pray. It's not unique. There are good, singable hymns in every language. I suspect the Lord loves to hear us sing them.