October 1976 · Vol. 5 No. 4 · pp. 3–11
Confessions of a Church Musician
On my library shelf are three books about music history. One contains an analysis of what is called “classical music.” It begins with the obscure musical philosophies of the ancient Greeks, then traces the music of the medieval church composers, the sophisticated compositions of courtly musicians, and the emotional symphonies of the nineteenth century romantic composers.
The second book traces the simple songs of English and American folk music. No famous composers are mentioned. No dominating styles and schools of thought are reviewed. No epoch making works are analyzed. Rather, the book speaks of human feelings and emotions as expressed in clear and straightforward words and tunes.
The third book is a study of American popular music. The author introduces charismatic performers and writers who have caught the imagination of various generations. He writes about advertising techniques, ever-changing hit parades, and the chameleon character of public taste.
Scholars spend lifetimes dividing, sifting, categorizing, and organizing; and it is interesting to observe how neatly these writers have separated their subjects. It all seems clear cut and logical until one meets an exception. One soon learns that for every system of genders there is a hermaphrodite. And when the classification system is too rigidly accepted, the deviant is castigated.
How should we react when we meet with music that does not seem to fit any of the usual categories? We can condemn it. Or we can exploit it like a freak in a side show. We can attempt to press it into one of the traditionally accepted molds and hope that its peculiarities will disappear. Or we can watch it for awhile to see it if can survive and reproduce its own kind. Then it can become a new type, a new species.
It seems to me that much of the church music that has developed since the late nineteenth century does not fit the usual categories. I would like to have another book, yet unwritten, on my library shelf. It would be a study of church music since 1950.
How would the author delineate his subject? Traditionally, books on church music have spoken about Gregorian Chant, or hymnology, or the works of leading composers. Some have even written about the late nineteenth century gospel songs or folk songs and choruses for children. But the author of the book I have in mind would have to discuss religious rock music and the sentimental cantatas which are heard by thousands in churches each Christmas and Easter. {4}
In my travels as a church choir director I have discovered two well-defined attitudes concerning this new music. Everyone, young and old, asks me what I think of it. One group obviously hopes I will give them a decisive insight that will condemn this style and forever ban the pulsing woofers and piercing tweeters from their sanctuary. The other group asks with a defensive glint in their eye which suggests that I had better pronounce my blessing on the new trend or forever be branded as an outdated classical relic. I seldom have time to give a complete answer because my questioners usually wander away when they realize the response is more than a simple “yes” or “no.”
In the paragraphs that follow I would like to present my answer. It is, of course, an answer that is in progress; and I expect it to change as my experience broadens. But it does reflect a great deal of reflection and contemplation. But first I would like to tell the story of a young musician whose experience may help to define the problem more clearly.
This past summer I became acquainted with a young man who had chosen music as his life’s vocation. He wanted more than everything else to dedicate himself and his musical talents to the work of Christ. And yet he was experiencing tremendous conflict in his church work.
With a voice nearly choking with emotion he related to me the tensions within his church. The young people and some of the more “with-it” parents were excited with the new type of music that is spreading across the country. The older people and some of the more “serious minded” young people were convinced that the stately and solid hymns should be the basis for church music. A small but influential group were insisting that the congregation be exposed to the “more refined” types of classical music. And somewhere in between were advocates of gospel songs, choruses, and simple folk music. The story, which follows, is presented with his permission.
My parents were not particularly musical, but they loved the Lord and they loved church music. From the time I learned “Jingle, Jingle Happy Bells, Jesus Is Born” in the cradle roll class until I learned “It Is No Secret, What God Can Do,” I never missed a Sunday in church. Even on vacation we would always find a church or Sunday School.
One of my most thrilling mornings away from home was the weekend we spent in Long Beach and attended the Sunday morning broadcast of the “Old Fashioned Revival Hour.” There, for the first time in my life, I heard, in person, my ideal church pianist. When we got home from that vacation I spent hours at the piano until I could play “Heavenly Sunshine” with the same flair and spirit as the accompanist on that broadcast.
There followed several years in which I found real purpose and satisfaction providing music at church services, Rescue Mission services, and banquets. Some problems began to develop, but they were not too serious. My piano teacher gave me Beethoven to work on, and the church music committee wanted variations on “Onward Christian Soldiers.” Once I played a Polonaise by Chopin in a Sunday evening service and one kind gentleman told me that it bothered him because he didn’t know the words to that song. {5}
But the real blow came when a music teacher whom I greatly respected said, “That pianist on the Old Fashioned Revival Hour is probably the worst worship service pianist in the world.” I was so angry that I wouldn’t speak to that teacher for a week. But then I began to think.
Is there a difference between a radio revival service and a Sunday morning worship service? If this were true, then I would have to tailor my music to suit the occasion. Perhaps this was the answer. And for some time this was a satisfactory explanation. Different types of services needed different types of music.
However, as I continued to practice, and my technical ability began to expand, I found greater satisfaction in Beethoven and Chopin than I did in “Heavenly Sunshine” and “Onward Christian Soldiers.” Finally, the invitations to play in church became fewer and fewer. With a few more years of training in music I was asked to direct a church choir. “Here at last I will be able to serve,” I said to myself. Choir music must have words. If the words are powerful and are clearly expressed, then the congregation will find a basis for blessing. And so I chose anthems that had significant texts, usually based on scripture; and I also chose music that reflected significant musical thought. The first year things went fine. But after that the choir began to dwindle to a devoted few, the comments from the congregation began to be filled with suggestions about familiar tunes and the desire for “lighter” anthems, and even the pastor lovingly suggested that we needed to minister to all segments of the congregation.
Then the church hired a youth minister. It seemed like a good idea when he decided to start a youth choir. After all, it would be healthy for the adult choir to have experienced young singers moving up in a few years. And was he ever successful! One of the “with-it” parents, who happened to have adequate finances, gave him carte blanche. He bought an expensive sound system, pre-recorded musical backgrounds, and bright outfits for the youth choir. In three weeks he had fifty singers—some from our church and many from neighboring churches. They sang at special meetings. They traveled to a special conference in Texas, and they began making plans for a trip to Hawaii.
About December of that year I got an anonymous note suggesting that my choice of a Bach cantata for the choir’s Christmas program was the most disastrous thing that ever happened to Christmas. I could have fought. Any musician knows that there is nothing wrong with the music of a Bach cantata, and any theologian who cares to study Bach’s text would agree that it is appropriate. But I had doubts. What if I was really out of step with the times? What if a Bach cantata was the right thing in the wrong place?
If the controversy it caused was greater than the blessings it provided, then it wasn’t a good choice.
I read books about educating the congregation, about introducing a new hymn each month, about choosing anthems that related to the sermons; but somehow I couldn’t get rid of the feeling that what the {6} church really wanted was the musical equivalent of hotdogs because they didn’t want to take the time to enjoy a steak dinner.
I hung on until spring. Then I decided that I would find a church where I wasn’t known as a musician, a church where I could worship and participate without causing problems. Certainly I should be able to separate my vocation of music from my participation in a church. I would work with music during the week just as a brick layer does his job, and then on Sunday I would come and worship.
But I’m not happy with that decision. I feel there is so much that worshippers are missing. What can I do?
How do we handle diversity in a church congregation? How do we meet the needs of the highly trained musician and at the same time minister to the typical “folk” musician in a congregation?
One solution would be simply to remove all music from the service. But the history of worship in the Bible and the testimony of every worshiping tribe and civilization known to ethnomusicologists tell us that music is an essential ingredient of worship.
Another solution would be to compromise—to find some style of music that is somewhere in between: neither too sophisticated nor too common. This would be doomed to failure from the beginning. Another compromise, equally doomed, would be for each segment of the church to have a time for its favorite musical experience. But this tends to divide and splinter the congregation rather than give it the unity described in the New Testament.
I would suggest that the question is not “Shall we have hymns, or rock, or country western music in the church?” The question should be “What kind of hymns, or rock, or country western music should we have?” The Bible teaches those who follow Christ to strive for that which is “true, honest, just, pure, lovely, of good report, excellent, and worthy of praise.” Does the music we use, in church and out of church, reflect this ideal? Can our musical favorites stand the following tests?