Dear Pastor: Biblical warrant

One of the interesting things about the scriptures and music is that in an awful lot of cases, there is not necessarily a lot said about the specifics of music, whether in the life of the Temple or in the fledgling early church. Music is not typically prescribed or proscribed among the body, if anything it seems to be more or less assumed with only occasional or minimal content.

We've already addressed the Psalms, and it is there where some of the most interesting comment on music in liturgical practice appears. In those cases the comment is usually in the form of musical instruction, and is found not in the body of the psalm itself but in the small prefaces before psalms. Psalm 76, for example, is directed to be done "with stringed instruments," as is Psalm 67, which is a fairly specific example. Psalm 70 is recommended "for the memorial offering." Some psalms indicate, apparently, a known tune to which the psalm is recommended to be sung, such as Psalm 60, "according to The Lily of the Covenant" (sounds like it would be a nice tune, but we of course have no idea about it. Others are attributed to specific poets; David gets a lot of credits (whether those are accurate or not is another story), but a significant number of psalms are atributed to a chap named Asaph, who was apparently a chief Temple musician.

A personal favorite reference to music in the Temple is found in the oft-overlooked book of 2 Chronicles. Verses 11-14 describe a moment in the process of the dedication of Solomon's Temple, when the "levitical singers" (members of the priestly class, one presumes) were called up to sing out (with the "aid" of a hundred and twenty trumpets!!!) the refrain "for he is good, for his steadfast love endures forever." As the chronicler tells it, when that song sounded with the trumpets,

the house, the house of the Lord, was filled with a cloud, so that the priests could not stand to minister because of the cloud; for the glory of the Lord filled the house of God.

Let's face it, that's just cool.

Of course, these bits of example are not particularly germane to our given subject here. In both the Psalms and 2 Chronicles, the singers in question are pretty clearly selected singers, not the whole body of the people. (2 Chronicles makes clear that the singers are the "levitical" singers.) Not surprisingly, to find biblical warrant for singing on the part of the congregation, we need to go to that portion of scripture that comes out of a period in which a congregation, or something like it, exists. Time to visit the New Testament epistles.

There are two exceprts from those epistles that stand out; one offers a fairly explicit instruction in using song, and the other seems to be an example of using song in the way prescribed in the first example.

The third chapter of Colossians offers a hodgepodge of instruction for the believers in that place, some of which are commonplace and some of which get a little ugly (particularly from verse 18 onwards). Before that, though, verse 16 offers up this nugget:

Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly; teach and admonish one another in all wisdom; and with gratitude in your hearts sing psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs to God.

This is about as explicit as you can get. The author instructs the people to sing, to sing a variety of music ("psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs"), and to sing with gratitude, and does so in the context of instruction to take in the word of Christ and to instruct one another in wisdom.

But look what happens in Philippians 2. In instructing the Philippians on humility, Paul ultimately points to Christ as an example. First encouraging them to look to one another's interests and needs, Paul then turns to the example of Christ -- but look how he does so in verses 5-11.

⁵Let the same mind be in you that was^* in Christ Jesus, 
⁶ who, though he was in the form of God,
   did not regard equality with God
   as something to be exploited, 
⁷ but emptied himself,
   taking the form of a slave,
   being born in human likeness.
And being found in human form, 
⁸   he humbled himself
   and became obedient to the point of death—
   even death on a cross. 

⁹ Therefore God also highly exalted him
   and gave him the name
   that is above every name, 
¹⁰ so that at the name of Jesus
   every knee should bend,
   in heaven and on earth and under the earth, 
¹¹ and every tongue should confess
   that Jesus Christ is Lord,
   to the glory of God the Father. 

The text turns to poetry, or more precisely, a hymn -- apparently a hymn that had already come into at least some familiarity among the Christians in Philippi, if Paul felt free to make use of it here in this fashion. One wonders if some of the Philippians, upon hearing or reading this passage, slipped into at least humming the tune, or if the one presiding at the meeting actually broke into song.

Notice, though, what these examples say about the use of song among the people. There is not only the basic act of singing, but the singing has the quality of instruction as well. The song is apparently expected to have enough substance and content to it to be useful as a means of "teaching and admonishing" as well as conveying gratitude and grace.

I'm not sure, dear pastor, how often we think of this function when we ask our congregations to sing. It would seem imperative to give that part of our song together more consideration as we go forward.

From all appearances, Paul used a hymn as a teaching tool. You can do that too.

Dear Pastor: A lesson from a psalm

Having spent a few weeks on some basic ideas about what kind of music a congregation might sing in worship, it seems like a good idea, dear pastor, to work from something concrete and think about the qualities for what we sing, at least as far as words are concerned. So let's look at Psalm 107.

I suggest this one for a look for a few reasons: (1) it was today's psalm in the lectionary, so maybe you've noticed it recently (or maybe not); (2) it seems quite likely to have had a life as part of a liturgy, meaning worship was its home; and (3) even as only a text it might be said to have some fairly clear "musical" qualities that make it a good example to follow.

A quick breakdown: the psalm (and it's a substantial one) breaks down into sections: a prologue of sorts (1-3), which puts forth the principal theme of the psalm (the steadfast love of the Lord) and gives indication of what is to come -- those who have been redeemed by that love will come forward and tell their stories; those stories (four in all: 4-9, 10-16, 17-22, 23-32) of those who have suffered due to their own sinfulness or foolishness (made explicit twice, implied in the other two); and an epilogue (33-43) which further fills out those demonstrations of the steadfast love of the Lord and brings home that main idea in a firm and decisive conclusion.

The things that happen in this psalm text are, even with its substantial length, pretty strongly conducive to singing. One of the most helpful features is repetition. Note that in the four stories, there are two verses of text that exactly or very nearly exactly repeat:

Then they cried to the Lord in their trouble, and he (delivered/saved/brought them out) from their distress (6, 13, 19, 28);

Let them thank the Lord for his steadfast love, for his wonderful works to humankind (8, 15, 21, 31)

Put simply, repetition (used judiciously) helps people sing, particularly in the case of a long text like this one. Having those lines to which to return (set, most likely, to the same tune) becomes "home" for even the least confident singer. It also offers a possibility for a responsorial or responsive style of singing, in which a soloist may be assigned the lengthier parts of the psalm and the congregation might respond with the familiar repeating verses. Responsorial singing offers a means to take on larger texts without overburdening congregations, although it is possible to paraphrase such a text for full congregational singing (see Glory to God: The Presbyterian Hymnal #653, "Give Thanks to God Who Hears Our Cries").

Another attractive aspect of the text is its vividness. The images offered in the text "pop" in a way that attracts the eye and mind of the singer. It also doesn't hurt when composers are creating music for such a text; an attractive text has a pretty good chance of provoking attractive music.

Perhaps the most attractive feature of this psalm is its directness and substance. No airy vapidities about God here (one of my main complaints about much modern song intended for church consumption); the psalmist is quite specific, even in metaphor, about just exactly what we foolish sinners have gotten ourselves into and how the steadfast love of the Lord has (delivered/saved/brought us out). The instruction is point-blank: let us thank the Lord, very specifically, for his steadfast love, for his wonderful works to humankind.

Here is a place where I do something I seldom do: praise that hoary old genre of hymn sometimes known as "gospel song" or "gospel hymn," depending on who you ask. Musically, I struggle to be kind; I have a rule that any tune that sounds like it should be played by a calliope probably isn't a good choice for a hymn tune, and many of the more commercial of those nineteenth-century products fall into that category. The texts, meanwhile, usually fail to be very communal, full of "I" and "me." However, there is one thing they do well, and that is to be very specific, even if the language is metaphorical:

I was sinking deep in sin, far from the peaceful shore,
Very deeply stained within, sinking to rise no more.
But the Master of the sea heard my despairing cry,
From the waters lifted me, now safe am I.
--"Love Lifted Me"

The hymn, even in its use of sea metaphor (shades of verses 23-32 of the psalm!), makes very clear that God's saving action in rescuing a "drowning" sinner is the object of the song. Even a more straightforward hymn of praise can be specific about the God who is object of that praise. After an initial verse of more general tone, a hymn like "O Worship the King" (GtG: TPH 41) gets specific:

O tell of God's might, O sing of God's grace...

The earth with its store of wonders untold, Almighty, your power has founded of old...

Your bountiful care, what tongue can recite?
It breathes in the air, it shines in the light;
It streams from the hills, it descends to the plain,
And sweetly distills in the dew and the rain.
(Weren't expecting a verse about God's care through creation, were you?)

A shorter song can be more general, but a hymn of, say, more than one stanza is going to need to offer some substance and particularity. And frankly, we are on stronger ground when that substance is rooted in the human experience of God -- how God has saved/redeemed/lifted/strengthened us -- rather than grasping at the inexpressible attributes of God that we will know only in glory. Has God worked in our lives? Then let us say (and sing) so. Let us bear witness.

For us Reformed types, metrical psalms (those poetically set for singing in our language) are a heritage. Singing psalms themselves is a perfectly good part of worship, and one that allows for a remarkable range of God's actions toward humanity, and humanity's response to God, to be a part of our sung worship. Those who would create texts directed towards God (there are other possibilities for hymn singing, hopefully to be discussed later) are often most successful when the song they create points us very clearly towards the work that God does in us and for us and through us in straightforward and direct ways.

In short, I am urging upon you, dear pastor, songs and hymns for your congregation to sing that have both meaning and substance. Such hymns and songs serve both the function of drawing forth the praise of the congregation towards God and the function of enlightening and even (horrors!) educating the congregation about God and what God does in and for and through us. And you can't ask for much more from congregational song than that.

Let's face it, that storm image (23-32) is pretty vivid...

Dear Pastor: Sing something "blue"

Well, we've gone with something old, something new, something borrowed, ... so why not?

Time for an unpopular opinion, pastor.

Of those positions I've staked out so far, I suspect you will find (among pastors generally, or among particular congregations) advocates for and against each. There will be some who complain and some who celebrate singing old or even ancient hymns, new hymns, or songs from the global church. But I'm going to guess that there will be very few who advocate for singing something "blue."

No, I'm not talking about hymns with profanity in them. Sheesh, get your mind out of the gutter.

No, I'm talking about singing songs and hymns that are "blue" in the sense we speak of a particular genre of music as the blues. I'm speaking of songs that contain an element of lament or sorrow.

I can literally hear faces scrunching up in disgust even as I type.

"I don't go to church to be sad."

"I thought Jesus was supposed to make everything better."

Here's the thing, though; the most biblical warrant we have for singing together as God's people contains plenty of lament. I speak, of course, of the Psalms, sometimes known (exaggeratedly, but not too much) as "the Bible's songbook."

Even Protestant reformers who were leery of congregational singing (looking at you, John Calvin) found the Psalms an acceptable outlet for congregations to sing. And the Psalms, as you might know, contain plenty of lament. Some of them are pretty heavy, some of them are even more angry than lamenting.

Take Psalm 137. You might recognize its opening; "By the rivers of Babylon -- there we sat down and there we wept when we remembered Zion." The tone is set, and it doesn't let up (unlike many lament psalms that include brief interludes of praise, or at least attempted praise. This one starts dark and turns darker. I'm not necessarily going to recommend going quite as dark as those last three verses of the psalm, but it is clear here that the psalmists recognized lament and sorrow as being as much a subject of song in worship, as much a subject to be brought before the Lord, as our praise or our petitions.

(And this isn't even mentioning there's a whole book of the Bible called Lamentations.)

Where this gets tricky, though, is in the practical challenge presented here, one even I can't do much about. There really aren't a lot of such hymns out there these days.

That hasn't always been the case. I was at a Sacred Harp sing a few nights ago, and perusing the printed collection (and a few of those chosen for singing) I was reminded that lament was very much a part of the songs creaded in the shape-note tradition. They sing about suffering, they sing about dying, they sing about parting. They sing songs of weeping and mourning.

We're not really accustomed to that, we mainline moderns. We have our reputation for excessive moderation (yes, that phrasing was deliberate), and while that mostly gets blamed for keeping out more exuberant songs, it also reins in our singing experience in the opposite extreme.

How to bridge the gap? A hymnal that includes a psalter (settings of Psalms) is a start, as at least some of the lament psalms are going to be included. A very few hymns that provide for lament for specific conditions have made their way into newer hymnals like Glory to God: The Presbyterian Hymnal (and that collection does come in an ecumenical version that doesn't have the word "Presbyterian" in the title). But the repertoire of lament hymns isn't large.

Still, it matters to make some space for singing lament for a similar reason that it matters to welcome songs of the global church: it becomes a means of including. Inevitably somebody in your congregation is going to be in a condition of lament. Maybe it's a short-term thing, maybe it's a more ongoing condition. They are there, in your congregation. Is there any part of the service that gives voice to their sorrow and encourages them to lift that sorrow up to God? (You might be thinking of intercessory prayers, but those are so often targeted towards those specifically suffering physical illness, which isn't always the case for those in need of lament.)

So I'm asking you (and asking myself) to do something that is not merely emotionally or intellectually hard to do, it's practically difficult to carry out as well. But there is a place for it, not every hymn (again those reversible caveats apply--not everything that is sung should be "blue," not everything that is "blue" should be sung), but some space for worshipers to lift up their grief not merely in a formal, constricted space of public prayer, but in the viscerally physical act of singing, and singing together.

Maybe this is a call for new hymns. Maybe I'm unwittingly calling for radical change in how we think about worship. Either way, all those Delta bluesman weren't wrong; sometimes you gotta sing the blues, even (or especially) to God.

So yeah, sing something old, and sing something new, and sing something borrowed, and sing something blue -- something that lifts up our sorrows as well as our joys. Don't be a separatist. Sing with all of God's children, even those whose voices are more likely to cry than sing, and remember who we are and whose we are, and that sometime the one in need of a song of lament will be you.