Since Pope Leo XIV presented himself to the world as the new Pontiff of the Catholic Church, one of the remarks made about him was that he had no problem singing. We have even witnessed a successful initiative from the Pontifical Institute of Sacred Music in Rome: a series of YouTube videos—seen by a massive number of people—teaching pieces from the Gregorian repertoire, using clips of Leo XIV singing those very chants.
But if we think about it carefully, isn’t it strange that we are surprised a Pope sings? It would be like being surprised that the Pope blesses or preaches. And yet, the state of the liturgy is such that when a Pope does something perfectly normal, it is perceived as something extraordinary.
Of course, we can’t deny that this reaction has been strongly influenced by the fact that his predecessor, Pope Francis, chose not to sing. Unfortunately, in a Church composed of men with their limitations and flaws, certain papal behaviors are sometimes interpreted by others as permission to act accordingly—without considering that Popes are still men and can do things that are not entirely appropriate. For example, the fact that Pope Francis brusquely pushed away a Chinese woman who was perhaps annoying him a bit does not mean that priests are authorized to do the same with other unfortunate people of Asian descent.
The singing Pope confirms something important: liturgy, by its very nature, is meant to be sung. We should not be surprised that the Pope sings—we should ask ourselves why he doesn’t sing more. I remember the days of John Paul II, when the Polish Pope sang with his beautiful, manly voice. The organist of St. Peter’s at the time, the good Franciscan Father Emidio Papinutti, recounted how, during the canonization of Maximilian Kolbe, John Paul II sang the Preface on a very high reciting tone, likely because he was so happy and moved by the event.
I can also give a personal testimony about John Paul II. I served as the organist for the Wednesday General Audience during the last six years of his life. Though he was already ill, he never gave up singing the Pater Noster in Gregorian chant and the final blessing, for as long as he was able. Benedict XVI also always sang his parts.
The fact that we are surprised when a Pope—or any priest—sings the parts proper to him only confirms the deep sense of deprivation we are subjected to due to a distorted idea of liturgical reform. I believe that unless we bravely address the crisis of the liturgy, we won’t find a way out. We must recover the original intention of the liturgical reform going back to Dom Prosper Guéranger and Saint Pius X: that of helping the faithful rise up to the beauty of the liturgy.