Letter to Giovanni Pierluigi da Palestrina (1)

Aurelio Porfiri

Revered Maestro,

I take the liberty of writing to you in this year in which your name is often evoked on the occasion of the 500th anniversary of your birth. Five centuries is a long time, and it is certainly fitting to reflect upon your great work— the work of one of the greatest musicians who has ever lived.

Do not think that I wish to praise you without cause: for me, as for countless other church musicians, you are an unsurpassed model, a shining example of what a composer of liturgical music should be. This opinion, fortunately, has also been shared by the official Church, and many Popes have spoken of you as a magnificent example of sacred music at its highest. On June 18, 2025, while participating in an event in your honor, Leo XIV stated:

“Giovanni Pierluigi da Palestrina was, in the history of the Church, one of the composers who has contributed the most to the promotion of sacred music, for ‘the glory of God and the sanctification and edification of the faithful’ (Saint Pius X, Motu proprio Inter plurimas pastoralis officii sollicitudines, 22 November 1903, 1), in the delicate, yet at the same time exciting, context of the Counter-Reformation. His compositions, solemn and austere, inspired by Gregorian chant, closely unite music and liturgy, ‘whether [they] add delight to prayer, foster unity of minds, or confer greater solemnity upon the sacred rites’ (Second Vatican Ecumenical Council, Constitution Sacrosanctum Concilium, 112). Moreover, polyphony itself is a musical form rich in meaning, for prayer and for Christian life. Indeed, first of all it is inspired by the sacred Text, which proposes to ‘clothe with a fitting melody’ (Inter sollicitudines, 1) so that it may better reach ‘the intelligence of the faithful’ (ibid.). Moreover, it achieves this purpose by entrusting the words to several voices, each repeating them in its own original way, with varied and complementary melodic and harmonious movements. Finally, it harmonizes the whole thanks to the skill with which the composer develops and intertwines the melodies, respecting the rules of counterpoint, making them echo one another, sometimes even creating dissonances, which are then resolved in new chords. The effect of this dynamic unity in diversity — a metaphor for our common journey of faith under the guidance of the Holy Spirit — is to help the listener enter ever more deeply into the mystery expressed by the words, responding, where appropriate, with responsories or in alternatim.”

These are significant words, words that truly help us understand the profound reverence with which your work is regarded in the Catholic Church. A reverence that has never faded—yet sadly, today, it is less widely felt, for liturgy and sacred music are now in a state of deep crisis in the Church, a crisis which to some seems almost beyond repair. A crisis that, year after year, only worsens and for which, humanly speaking, we see no easy solution.

And yet, esteemed Maestro, even in this crisis, your name still shines brightly in the firmament of Catholic sacred music. You are admired and esteemed today as you were in your own time. And with good reason: your music reflects a profound Catholic artistic vision, an unsurpassed understanding of the role of sacred music in the liturgy. You understood it as no one else did, and we are grateful to have your example to guide our uncertain steps along the paths of sacred music.

Many musicians came after you, and many of them have been forgotten. But you, Maestro, are still studied, examined, explored. It is as if we instinctively recognize in you a greatness not yet fully grasped—a greatness that defies time. You remain, in a sense, a mystery, a mystery still not completely revealed.

You devoted the greater part of your work to the liturgy—you are the liturgical musician par excellence. In the liturgy you found the meaning of your vocation as a composer. And indeed, what is greater than doing something for God? You did not primarily serve the secular courts, though they were not unknown to you. You believed—and rightly—that to serve God would be achievement enough.

I have walked with you now for over forty years. You are one of the few musicians whose name is spoken with reverence, almost with awe. This is understandable, for we all realize how small we are beside the Everest that is you. And yet, despite our unworthiness, being in your presence does us good—it is like a spiritual medicine that refreshes and restores us.