First Unitarian Church of Pittsburgh
605 Morewood Avenue
Pittsburgh, PA 15213-2999
412-621-8008
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605 Morewood Avenue |
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WHAT IS SACRED MUSIC? By David Herndon In the year 1322, Pope John XXII banished the musical innovation known as polyphony from Church music. Polyphony is the sounding of two or more different melodies or parts at the same time, each contributing equally to the complete sound. In our time, polyphony is commonplace and has been for hundreds of years, but in the fourteenth century polyphony was new, strange, non-traditional, innovative, alien. Moreover, for many Church leaders, it had too many secular associations to be used in a sacred setting. Thus we learn that some of the challenges we encounter nowadays with regard to music in worship are the same challenges our ancestors have struggled with in other times and places. Seven hundred and eighty years after Pope John XXII excommunicated polyphony, we still ask ourselves: To what extent shall musical innovations be embraced in church music? To what extent shall music with secular associations be embraced in church music? What distinguishes secular music from sacred music? Part of the challenge is the abstract nature of music. The twentieth-century American composer Aaron Copland put it this way: "The whole problem can be stated quite simply by asking, 'Is there a meaning to music?' My answer to that would be 'Yes.' And 'Can you state in so many words what the meaning is?' My answer to that would be 'No.'" Copland points out what many of us know--that the emotional power of music transcends words. Music speaks to us, but we cannot translate this speech into words. The ability of music to transcend words has its advantages. George Steiner, professor at Cambridge University, speaks reassuringly to many people, including Unitarian Universalists, when he says: "Music has long been, and continues to be, the unwritten theology of those who lack or reject any formal creed." If the abstract nature of music allows it to transcend words and speak to our hearts as words cannot, this same abstract nature may bedevil us when we come to choose what music is appropriate for worship. Is there a meaning to music? asks Copland. Yes, he answers. Can you state in so many words what the meaning is? Copland asks again. But now he answers: No. But if we cannot state the meaning of a given piece of music, then how shall we determine whether it conveys the intended meaning of a worship service? How shall we determine its consonance with the preacher's message? How shall we determine its consonance with the congregation's theological affirmations? One might begin by acknowledging the importance of context. Surely the context of a religious community gathering for worship is different from the context of an audience gathering in a concert hall to hear a string quartet. For that matter, the context of worship is also different from the context of musical theatre, or a jazz club, or a rock concert, or a student recital, or a bluegrass festival, or a parade, or a wedding reception, or a graduation ceremony, or a high school prom, or a sports event, or any other occasion where live music might be presented and heard and appreciated. What is appropriate in another context may or may not be appropriate in the context of worship. People from the same congregation may listen to music together at some event on Saturday evening and nod their heads in appreciation, but if those same people heard the same music played by the same musicians the next morning in church, they might shake their heads in dismay. Context matters. When I was in high school, from eighth grade through twelfth grade, I sang in a choir every day. Along the way, I learned that basic classification scheme within choral music: sacred music and secular music. Sacred music used traditional religious language; secular music generally did not. Did this mean that whenever we sang sacred music the context would suddenly become religious? Well--no, not really. If the high school choir performed sacred music by Palestrina or Handel or Mendelssohn at our spring concert, the context was still a high school spring concert attended largely by our parents. The context did not become a religious community gathered for worship, even though the music was clearly labeled "Sacred." The music did not transform the basic meanings of the context. But the context did transform the basic meanings of the music. Had the same piece of music by Palestrina or Handel or Mendelssohn been sung the following Sunday at the local Presbyterian church, the music would have been both sung and heard in a very different way, because the context would have been very different. Context matters. Ken Herman, Director of Music at the First Unitarian Universalist Church of San Diego, California, uses this insight to refocus our questions about what music is appropriate in the context of worship. He writes: "We may not always be asking, 'What constitutes sacred music?' but we always must ask, 'What music will inspire and undergird our worship?'" [1] In other words, expanding upon Ken Herman's statement, we need not focus on classifications and labels and styles. Instead, we need to focus on the basic purposes within a given context. What are we trying to do in the context of worship? What are we seeking to accomplish in the context of worship? Those basic purposes, whatever they are, will be our best guide in choosing appropriate music. If polyphony interferes with our basic purposes in the context of worship, then like Pope John XXII we ought to set it down and leave it alone, no matter how much we may enjoy polyphony in the market or the tavern. And if polyphony advances our purposes in the context of worship, then unlike Pope John XXII we may feel free to embrace it. I would like to suggest that music can advance three distinct purposes in the context of worship. The first of these three purposes is inspiration, or perhaps illumination. Upon visiting a large church for the first time, a little boy was entranced with the stained glass windows. "Who are those people in the stained glass?" he wondered. "Those are saints," his mother answered. Later, someone asked him if he knew what saints are. "Oh, yes," the little boy said. "Saints are people the light shines through." In the context of worship perhaps what we want is "saintly" music--music the light shines through--the light of hope, the light of love, the light of justice, the light of peace, the light of compassion. Daniel Budd, minister with the First Unitarian Church of Cleveland, makes this observation about the role of music in worship: "Music . . . is a human activity that relates us directly to that aspect of our being which is outside ourselves, to that which is Other, which is Mystery, which some call God. The musician . . . when at his/her best, translates transcendence into living and lived form, a form through which we, in turn, have an opportunity to feel this Mystery, sense its Presence, and perhaps even have a certain knowing of our place and participation with and within it. In this sense, the vocation of music . . . is the making of epiphanies, of moments where the core Mystery of our being might shine through into our everyday lives." [2] Music is the making of epiphanies, according to Daniel Budd, the making of saintly moments when the light shines through us. The hymn we sang a few moments ago says something about this; the second verse reads: "How often, making music, we have found a new dimension in the world of sound, as worship moved us to a more profound Alleluia!" [3] Is there a meaning to music? asks Copland. Yes, he answers. Can you state in so many words what the meaning is? Copland asks again. No; except that it moves us to a more profound Alleluia; and it makes epiphanies, where the core Mystery of our being might shine through into our everyday lives. Unitarian Universalist minister and musician Gene Navias offers this further wisdom about what music can mean: "So much has come asunder in our world, that religious liberals seem to hunger the more for that which brings them together not only for that which informs the rational mind, but that which stirs the soul, bespeaks mystery and hope, brings calm and purposeful vision in the chaos, and provides new strength to live on the side of human freedom and dignity, justice and peace." [4] In my role as a preacher, I have discovered that my first task is to capture the attention of those present for worship. I need to be enough of a circus ringmaster or a storyteller or a factfinder to get people looking toward me, and this takes a certain degree of courage and one kind of ego strength. But I cannot stop there; once people are looking toward me my next task is to recall that what we do here is not about me, and I need to get out of the way. This takes a different kind of ego strength. The words I speak need to be transparent enough--"saintly" enough--not to block whatever illumination may result from our shared earnestness. And so it is with music as well: anyone making music in church needs to be enough of a performer to capture the attention of those present for worship, but then that musician needs to recall that what we do here is not about him or her, and have the grace to get out of the way. As with the words, the music needs to be transparent enough--"saintly" enough--not to block whatever illumination may result from our shared earnestness. The task of a musician may be different in other contexts. In the context of worship, however, those leading worship, whether with words or with music, need to remember these two opposite but essential roles, stepping out in front to point the way, and then stepping off to the side to get out of the way of the light. A second purpose that music can advance in the context of worship is
building community. "A friend recently shocked me," wrote one
observer, "when he announced he had joined a Christian church. What
seismic reckoning, I queried, would cause a card-carrying atheist like
himself to do such a thing? 'Because,' he complained, 'it's the only place
I can go to sing with other people.'" [5] Church consultant Kennon
Callahan strongly encourages those who care about churches to understand
how important it can be for church members to participate in making music.
"A choir is ultimately a relational grouping," Callahan says;
"it is very much a family. It is often among the most significant
relational groupings in a congregation. . . . Again and again in interviews
across the years, I have learned that most people who participate in adult
choirs perceive them as their family. . . . When they go to rehearsal,
it is like going to a family gathering. When they sing in the service
of worship, they sing together as family." [6] And Callahan offers
this advice: "The more choirs you have, the more significant relational
groupings you offer people in your church. The fewer choirs you have,
the more you limit the possibilities available to people when they seek
a grouping that suits them and is helpful to them." [7] Judy Green, a church organist and formerly a fund-raiser for the Unitarian Universalist Association, noted this same transforming power of individuals joined by music-making when she affirmed and praised "the ability of the church choir to be a microcosm of the church's ministry of love, compassion, and equality." [9] Finally, a third purpose that music can advance in the context of worship is demonstrating our message. Over the years, Unitarian Universalists have come to find and appreciate religious insight in many different sources. These sources include the traditional Hebrew and Christian scriptures; but we also find religious insight in sacred writings other than Hebrew and Christian scriptures, and in secular writings such as poetry, essays, and narratives. In principle, we are free to use in our worship any writing that illuminates or inspires or challenges us, in accord with our Unitarian Universalist principles. When I was singing in my high school choir, sometimes I found the depth and power of the sacred choral repertoire far more meaningful than the pop songs we would do from time to time. On the other hand, sometimes I found that a secular choral piece contained a fresher beauty and a more meaningful insight than music classified as sacred. I suppose I was transferring our Unitarian Universalist process of discernment from literary texts to choral music; in any case, based on my own experience, I can wholeheartedly affirm this statement from Kennon Callahan: "Each style includes specific pieces of music that can stir and strengthen us. It is the music itself, not the category, that is endowed with spirit and power. When the words and melody help us with our foundational life searches, we know the music has achieved its purpose." [10] By making reference to both sacred and secular sources in our worship, we convey the message that "revelation is not sealed," that people in many different times and places have written passionately and profoundly about their spiritual experience, that God may speak in the present no less than in the legendary past, that religious insight is widely and democratically available and not necessarily mediated to us by authorities. Nowadays, our historic Unitarian Universalist affirmation that "revelation is not sealed" presents us with new challenges as we encounter the imperatives of multiculturalism. In our time, people who have historically been marginalized within Western culture have come to new self-respect, have come to find both their stories and their voices, and have come to the Western cultural canon seeking a place at the table. Without negating the splendid achievements of the Western cultural canon, one may nevertheless recognize that persons other than white males of European heritage can bring forth creativity from within themselves, can make worthy cultural contributions, can tell important stories and share important insights and create important art. As Unitarian Universalists, we covenant to affirm and promote the inherent worth and dignity of every person, including those historically marginalized within Western culture; we covenant to affirm and promote world community with peace, liberty, and justice for all, including those historically marginalized within Western culture. Our commitment to justice-making calls us to find ways to listen to voices from beyond the Western cultural canon. With regard to music, let us indeed continue to enjoy the powerful and inspiring music of Palestrina and Bach, Mozart and Schubert, Handel and Vaughan Williams; but let us also recognize that it is a little odd for us to listen only to these voices and the traditions they represent if we are truly promoting a vision of participative democracy, affirmative justice, and world community. Kennon Callahan writes: "At stake is more than an anthem on Sunday morning. The music is the soul and spirit of the service. It is through the music that people's hearts are touched, their souls are stirred, their hopes are lifted." [11] May we find that music does touch our hearts, stir our souls, and lift our hopes as we gather in religious community with one another; and may we find that "saintly" music inspires us to live in more "saintly" ways--that is, with purposeful and calm light illuminating our everyday lives and our relations with others, near and far.
© 2002 by David Herndon |
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| Copyright 2005 | ||