Can We Still Listen to David Haas?
In the wake of the sexual allegations against Catholic composer, David Haas, the church is faced with the question, should we still play his music? The answer is as complicated and divisive as the times we live in. With the growing movement of Black Lives Matters, tearing down statues that commemorate racist leaders has been a way to remedy the white-washing of history. In both situations, we see a connection: what is the relationship between the person and their work? Can we still honor the good deeds of a person despite their previous allegations? The answer is no and yes.
As a recap, David Haas is an influential songwriter of contemporary Catholic liturgical music. With over forty-five original collections and recordings of liturgical music along with several books about music ministry, religious education, and spirituality, his role in the liturgical formation of many generations of Catholics and Protestants cannot be understated. And yet, David Haas remains but a symptom of misogyny in America.
Comedian Hannah Gadsby spoke to The Hollywood Reporter’s Women In Entertainment 2018 about ‘Good Men.’ In her speech, which can be found online with over 460,000 views, Gadsby talks about the line between ‘good’ mean and ‘bad’ men and the power of ‘good’ men to willingly move that line at their leisure according to their circumstance or preference. Gadsby punctuates this by saying, “all men believe they are good.” This is the problem.
Catholic liturgical music has always consisted of men. From Guillaume Dufay to Mozart, classical liturgical music was based on counterpoint. Contemporary Catholic liturgical music consisted of song styles that were popular in the 1960s and 1970s. Yet despite any compositional differences, the composers were primarily men. It is this dominance of male voices that has had an influence on how men like Haas feel like they can, as Gadsby put it, “move the line.” And since all men believe they are good, a lack of female voices leads to assumptions about what men like Haas feel they can do.
The system, if unchanged, will continue to empower predatory men who believe they are good. The CDC gives an alarming statistic saying that 1 in 5 women will experience some type of sexual assault in their lifetime. Just as alarming is the fact that these men will not change and will likely only engage in performative contrition, which is the seeking of public approval through subjecting their audience with excessive apologies. These kinds of apologies do not have the health of the survivors in their best interest and are only concerned with preserving public image. While some men never recover their public image, many do and the cycle of abuse continues.
A few of the survivors spoke recently to NCR about Haas. While their stories are heart-wrenching, there is no denying that other women around the world are hearing this story all while nodding their heads as if to say “yes, I remember.” Although the Me Too Movement has exposed powerful men for their exploits of young women and it continues to work its way through every industry, it is not enough. Though the exploits of men like Haas have been made public and may permanently damage his public image, the system of misogyny will continue so long as publishers focus on male composers and listeners continue to prefer them. The female voice is needed in the liturgical music world as a matter of principle.
The Survivor’s Perspective
So is it ok to listen to his music and separate the artist from the music? I would argue that this is the wrong question to ask. Pastor Andrew Stone Porter wrote a blog recently that focuses on the survivor’s perspective. He brings to light how the conversation tends to focus on Haas alone when it asks questions like:
· What if these allegations are false?
· What if this ruins this man’s livelihood?
· Aren’t Christians supposed to offer forgiveness to sinners and grace?
· If we stop singing this person’s music, aren’t we hurting people who are spiritually benefited by it?
· What about all the good this person did?
· Why not separate the person from the art that he created?
These questions all stand to favor Haas and his music as the center of attention without ever consulting the survivors. So can we listen to Haas’ music with integrity and separate the man from the art? Before any answer is given, discussions cannot be had while excluding the voices of those who he has oppressed and abused. For now, most churches have banned his music from being sung at mass or service and any consideration for future inclusion of his music ought to consult survivors of sexual abuse also.
But Aren’t We All Sinners?
Ok we understand that discussions about Haas should be inclusive to the survivors as well and that his actions are a symptom of greater misogyny in the US. But is it fair to judge a man of his sins when we are all sinners? And doesn’t the music come from God anyway? Dr. Sarah Bereza approaches these questions by addressing their assumptions. First assumption: Haas’ sin is equal to ours. Bereza answers this assumption by saying that “I agree that all of us sin, but I also believe that some sins have very serious, public consequences.” Not all sins are equal and some reach more people more maliciously if nothing stands to prevent them.
Second assumption: all music is from God. Bereza answers this by saying, “Music can be a medium of skilled craft and/or self-expression. God gifts people to use this medium and many other mediums, like painting and writing. And while that gift is from God, it is also relevant what we people do as we create with this medium.” Therefore, as mediums of God’s gift of music, we are connected to our art and work.
The relationship between the artist and the art is complex. Some have compared it to a mother and child, where the artist conceives, develops, and, ultimately, separates from the art. This does not mean that the art and artist have nothing to do with each other anymore; on the contrary, this allows the art to incorporate into society and assimilate in different ways, dependent how people receive it.
Gadsby brought up how Picasso’s development of cubism was extremely important for artists to break free from traditional painting, despite his abuse of the women he supposedly loved. The composer, Richard Wagner, was a notorious anti-Semite, yet the Los Angeles Philharmonic performed his Der Ring des Nibelungen to a large audience. Bill Cosby paved the way for black communities and black comedians with his sitcom but sexually abused many women. In the wake of the Black Lives Matter movement, Saint Junipero Serra brought Catholicism to California but it ended with the mass destruction of entire native peoples.
Author Shannon Lee offers help in how we might think about each figure. In each example of men and their work above, we can ask ourselves “does our knowledge of the artist or figure change how we receive their work?” The answer, more often than not, should be yes. Knowing what we know about David Haas, it becomes evident that his music needs to be re-contextualized to embrace the complexity of his misogyny and history. If we are to take the approach of relating the artist and art to mother and child, then we can further think about Haas’ work as a fluid, that is, changing in interpretation as more is known about him.
Issues regarding the morality of the artist and their art are not easy as their work inspires generations. But it is far more dangerous to embrace an artist or historical figure without including the perspective of anyone they may have abused. We ought to embrace the complexity of misogyny apparent in their work and re-contextualize the work so that it fits more honesly in its new environment. For me, it means permanently taking Haas’ music outside of the mass since the nature of his words used in his songs have taken on different meanings. After all, we worship a God that does not give a pass to actions that further perpetuate violence towards His children.
