As churches in Asia and Europe face declining musical engagement, the Vietnamese model offers much to learn
A picture of the St. Maria Goretti's choir, conducted by Pham Cong Danh, in Thai Ha parish in Hanoi. (Photo: Supplied)
By Alex Hoang
Published: June 25, 2025 11:23 AM GMT
Updated: June 25, 2025 11:34 AM GMT
On June 17, Father Pierre Nguyễn Kim Long — composer of the iconic “Prayer of Peace” and over 3,500 hymns — passed away at 84. His death is not only a loss for Vietnamese sacred music but the end of an era where hymns became vessels of grace for millions of Catholics.
Vietnam, having embraced Christianity much later than many countries, has only about 7 percent Catholics. Yet the vibrancy of its sacred music surprises even seasoned clergy.
Unlike many parts of the world where daily Masses lack singing, Vietnamese churches — even in remote areas — regularly feature choirs.
Foreign visitors are often struck by the scale. Most parishes have at least two choirs — one adult, one youth. In big cities like Hanoi or Ho Chi Minh City, some host up to seven or eight choirs, including those for children, women, the elderly, and religious associations. Thai Ha parish in Hanoi once had 18 active choirs; today it still maintains 13.
In rural Vietnam, it’s not uncommon to witness a group of farmers-turned-singers rehearse a Marian hymn in a modest chapel as early as 5 a.m. Their voices rise — not trained, not flawless, but deeply faithful. It’s not a concert. It’s a weekday Mass. And in that moment, Vietnamese sacred music reveals its quiet miracle.
Vietnam’s sacred music mirrors its cultural richness. Alongside Gregorian chants and formal hymns, many compositions draw from Vietnamese folk traditions. A Marian hymn from Nghệ An may sound entirely different from one in Nam Định or Đà Lạt. These regional nuances give Vietnamese sacred music a distinctive character, rarely seen elsewhere in the global Church.
The development of Catholic music in Vietnam began in the early 20th century, with composers such as Paul Đạt, Trinh Cát, and Hùng Lân. Later, legends such as Hải Linh, Kim Long, Nguyễn Đức Huy, and Tiến Dũng expanded the genre, not just as composers but as teachers and liturgical leaders.
Today, sacred music has transcended church walls. Hymns like And My Heart Is Happy Again by Father Thành Tâm or Prayer of Peace by Father Kim Long are sung beyond Catholic communities. "The Season of Flowers Has Arrived " by Sister Trầm Hương has even been adapted by Buddhist monks, who have rewritten lyrics for their own religious practices.
Such cross-religious resonance is rare. In many countries, liturgical music remains confined to specific denominations. But in Vietnam — where folk spirituality blends with institutional religion — music acts as a bridge, softening divisions and connecting hearts.
For many young people, sacred music is their first encounter with the Church. The author of this article, coming from a non-religious background, joined the Thai Ha choir just to learn music. Those rehearsals and hymns eventually led to baptism and a life of Catholic journalism.
This power is also evident in the lives of lifelong Catholics. Pham Cong Danh, director of the St. Maria Goretti’s Choir in Hanoi, shared: “For me, Vietnamese sacred music has been both the foundation of my musical life and the motivation to pursue music professionally. It was through hymns that I learned to sing, read notes, and eventually play instruments.”
“Sacred music opened doors to music school and later the conservatory. But even more, as a layperson, it helped me pray more deeply and live more gently. When I have spare time, I hum hymns. In both faith and career, sacred music is central to my life,” he added.
Vietnamese sacred music, with its lyrical beauty and cultural depth, holds untapped potential for liturgical renewal worldwide. As churches in Asia and Europe face declining musical engagement, the Vietnamese model — with vibrant choirs, community-based music education, and deep spiritual connection — offers much to learn.
Some Vietnamese hymns are already being translated in diaspora communities. With thoughtful promotion, they could reach broader audiences searching for new ways to experience the sacred through music.
Even after the incense fades and pews empty, the echo of a Vietnamese hymn lingers — not just in sacred spaces, but in hearts formed by melody and faith. Sacred music in Vietnam is not a relic. It is a living breath, sung anew with each generation.
*The views expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the official editorial position of UCA News.