Give Gregorian chants another chance.

I was a Franciscan postulant in New York City when I first learned to sing in Latin. The "Agnus Dei" was easy to pick up. The "Salve Regina," which we often sang at compline, was trickier. I still remember how the formation director, Brother Wait, would motion to me with sharp gestures to sing softer because I was throwing the rest of the friars off-key.

Though I left the order before taking simple vows, a Mass does not go by without the "Agnus Dei" reverberating in that nebulous region of my mind that spans memory and imagination. There is something otherworldly about both melody and language that emphasize a mystery and grandeur missing from most liturgy today.

Often feeling part of a musical minority in a parish full of avid St. Louis Jesuits fans, earlier this year I was delighted when I heard that the Benedictine monks of Spain's Santo Domingo de Silos monastery transformed the Gregorian chant into an international best-seller. In less than a year, the monks' platinum recording has sold nearly 2 million copies and topped both classical and pop best-seller lists.

The Gregorian chant is no stranger to public acclaim, however. Millions of Roman Catholics over countless generations have practiced their faith with the melodious intonations of the chant echoing in the background.

The Gregorian chant's namesake lived and pontificated in the late 6th and early 7th centuries. Pope Gregory the Great's actual role in the chant's infancy is questionable since the earliest recognizable scores in the Gregorian tradition date to about two centuries after his death. However, generous scholars postulate an oral tradition that may well date back to Saint Gregory, who is said to have codified the church music of his day into an organized compendium.

Rome's official stance on Gregorian chant was clearly spelled out at Vatican II. The council pronounced that the chant "should be given pride of place in liturgical services." Though this pronouncement has gone largely unheeded in U.S. Catholicism, the Gregorian chant is nonetheless intimately tied to Catholic culture and spirituality and is irreplaceable by the more modern songs that prevail in Catholic parishes today.

Sung in Greek, Hebrew, sometimes English, but mostly Latin, Gregorian chant is "wedded to the sacred texts" of Christianity, says Father William Mahrt, professor of music at Stanford University and director of a choir that sings Gregorian chant at Mass every Sunday at St. Ann's Chapel in Palo Alto, California.

The gently falling and rising tones not only reflect the Latin grammar on which the chant is based but also embody the spiritual aspirations of those singing. Explaining that, in the chant, pitch typically rises mid-verse and lowers at the end, Mahrt points to a deeper meaning of pitch changes. "There is always this sense that one is lifting one's heart to the middle and then coming down to a point of repose again," he explains. "People have speculated how that is symbolic of the ascent of the mind to God."

Even if parishioners are unable to understand every Latin word, chant nonetheless engenders an atmosphere of recollection. It is in this contemplative atmosphere that people's attention is drawn away from secular thoughts and worries and drawn to the Pascal Mysteries being offered at the altar.

Pointing to a deeper issue underlying the use of ancient music and dead languages in church, Father William Fenton, also of St. Ann's, asserts, "Latin is set aside for a particular purpose and doesn't necessarily bring with it secular connotations." This issue involves how dark we draw the line between the sacred and profane.

At Mass, speaking the vernacular and singing popular folk music draws that line very lightly. It implies that the Mass, the most holy of Catholic rituals, is little different from any other event. The same language I indiscriminately use to address family, co-workers, friends, and enemies, I employ also to address God; the same style of music I hear on the radio is the same I use to sing God's praises.

But the Mass is no ordinary event. It is completely unlike anything we encounter in our daily lives. The priest's and community's ritualized actions culminate in the infusion of God's presence in bread and wine. The Mass is sacred, separated from everyday life, and benefits from a distinct language and unique form of music. In much the same way the "Agnus Dei" has for years drawn me into communion with the Lamb of God, Gregorian chant is a forsaken style of music that can breathe into the Mass its inveterate spirituality. As the chant rises in the pop charts, I hope that it may again become popular in the religion that gave it birth.

Brian Riggs, freelance writer from Santa Clara, California.