Music has great power to both reflect and shape human experience. In worship, as in other activities, music is able to express the most profound thoughts and emotions in ways that words cannot. Music in Christian worship is a powerful—even a risky—force that must be used thoughtfully, imaginatively, and prayerfully.
Music soothes, transfigures, opens the fountains of a greater deep and bathes us in a world of victory, which submerges our griefs so that we see them as lovely as ruined towers at the bottom of a clear lake on whose bosom we glide. It has, for the hour, the power that faith has for good and all—to unloose, emancipate, and redeem. When the ransomed of the Lord return to Zion, it is with singing and great joy upon their heads. (P. T. Forsyth, Christ on Parnassus: Lectures on Art, Ethic and Theology [London: Hodder and Stoughton, 1911], 225)
The Nature of Music
Music consists of rhythm, pitch, melody, and harmony, but it is not just that, for music has power. When an evil spirit was tormenting Saul, his servants advised him to let them “seek out a man who is skillful in playing the lyre; and when the evil spirit from God is upon you, he will play it and you will be well” (1 Sam. 16:16). David was the one chosen, and his mellifluous performance caused Saul to be refreshed and made well, whereupon “the evil spirit departed from him” (1 Sam. 16:23).
Through the ages, people have been awed and mystified by the power of music. With its changes of pitch, volume, tempo, rhythm, and harmony, music offers a wider variety of expression than words. That which seems intangible, and fades as soon as it is heard, and is different each time it is performed, can express and elicit emotions of great intensity, something that touches the human soul. Further, long after sound waves have vanished, music can live on as it and the emotions it evoked are later aroused by the listener’s memory. Of course, musicians can also hear music within themselves while reading a score though no sound waves are produced. Music even exists for those who have become deaf as they, like Beethoven in his later years, conjure up the beautiful sounds within their minds.
Martin Luther, who thought “that next to the Word of God, music deserves the highest praise,” (Luther’s Works, vol. 53 [Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1965], 323) painted a portrait of the effects music has on human beings:
Whether you wish to comfort the sad, to terrify the happy, to encourage the despairing, to humble the proud, to calm the passionate, or to appease those full of hate—and who could number all these masters of the human heart, namely the emotions, inclinations, and affections that impel (humans) to evil or good?—what more effective means than music could you find?
Music can comfort, excite, encourage, and call forth a host of other reactions, giving voice to unutterable feelings. It is a gift from God that fosters soundness of mind in temporal confusion and enhances our lives as is reflected in this collect by Erik Routley:
Almighty God, who gave us music to bring sanity to a distracted world, and to use for the fortifying and beautifying of human life; grant that our learning of it, our interpreting it, and our sharing it may arouse in our own hearts and minds gratitude to you, and in the lives of others a new consciousness of your love which is over all your works: through Jesus Christ, our Lord. Amen. (From the dedication of Lee Hastings Bristol, Jr., Church Music Resource Center, Westminister Choir College, October 13, 1982)
Though music affects us in the realm of emotions, it has been noted that “music can never express a specific grief, always just ‘joy, sorrow, grief, horror, jubilation, happiness, peace per se, to a certain extend in abstracto, their essence without any accidents’ ” (Gerardus van der Leeuw, Sacred and Profane Beauty: The Holy in Art, trans. David E. Green [New York: Holt, Rinehart, and Winston, 1963], 246; the quotation within is from Schopenhauer). While music may not convey the specific, particular music does become associated with particular emotions so that, for instance, when one hears a hymn which was sung at a loved one’s memorial service or an organ composition which was played at one’s marriage service, the grief or joy felt at the time can well up with powerful insistence.
Music dwells in the same realm as love and faith and imagination, intangible and undefinable, but sometimes describable in its effects. Throughout the ages poets have paid tribute to music, revering its mysterious nature and influence, struggling to evoke its beauty and power. In the following paragraphs we will examine some of the ways the church has appreciated and made use of music.
How does this happen? The inherent powers of language are magnified when married to music and used as a vehicle for praise. And it is in praise of God that we find our proper place as God’s children, for our “chief end is to glorify God and enjoy him forever” (Westminster Shorter Catechism, question 1).
Martin Luther was certain that the “fathers and prophets wanted nothing else to be associated as closely with the Word of God as music” (Works, vol. 53). This is how he explained why the church has so many hymns and psalms “where message and music join to move the listener’s soul, while in other living beings (i.e., birds) and bodies (i.e., instruments) music remains a language without words.” Luther thought humans had been vested with language so they could “praise God with both word and music, namely by proclaiming (the Word of God) through music and by providing sweet melodies with words” (Works, vol. 53).
As hinted above, when music and text are combined, the music “no longer expresses the action or the words themselves, but something which goes much deeper: ‘the most secret meaning of the same’ ” (van der Leeuw, 246). So music is one of the languages of worship.
A new entity is created when words are put to music. This happens both in hymns (in the words of Erik Routley, “songs for unmusical people to sing together”) and in music sung by choirs and soloists where more talent and technical expertise are demanded.
One of the remarkable things about music is that with text it can express more than one emotion or affection at the same time. Examples of this abound, for instance in the works of Bach, one of the ultimate text-painters of all time. Albert Schweitzer has pointed out that in the opening chorus of the St. John Passion, which uses the words, Lord our Redeemer, whose name in all the world is glorious, show us by your passion that you, the true Son of God forevermore, are glorified even in the deepest humiliation
both suffering and glory are depicted. This is done by the accompanying flutes and oboes which “sigh and wail incessantly,” and by strings which “in grave and tranquil semi-quavers, symbolize the majesty of the glorified Son of God (J. S. Bach, vol. 2, trans. Edward Newman [New York: Dover Publications, Inc., 1966], 184). The organ is similarly involved in supporting the glorification theme. Music is capable of allowing humans more complex expression than speech alone does. It is not just something that provides first-class transportation for words. For in the conjunction of music and words, each is vivified and more is said that either could say alone.
Augustine struggled with this power of music, knowing that it did something to the texts that were being sung, changing them to another reality, at times kindling “an ardent flame of piety,” and at others, sinfully overwhelming the truth. Confessing his early iniquitous captivation by the “pleasures of sound,” Augustine discussed the snares set by church music and his reaction to them in this description of his journey into the realm of hymn singing:
I admit that I still find some enjoyment in the music of hymns, which are alive with your praises when I hear them sung by well-trained, melodious voices. But I do not enjoy it so much that I cannot tear myself away.… But if I am not to turn a deaf ear to music, which is the setting for the words which give it life, I must allow it a position of some honor in my heart, and I find it difficult to assign it to its proper place. For sometimes I feel that I treat it with more honor than it deserves. I realize that when they are sung these sacred words stir my mind to greater religious fervor and kindle in me a more ardent flame of piety than they would if they were not sung …
Sometimes, too, from over-anxiety to avoid this particular trap I make the mistake of being too strict. When this happens, I have no wish but to exclude from my ears, and from the ears of the church as well, all the melody of those lovely chants to which the Psalms of David are habitually sung.
But when I remember the tears that I shed on hearing the songs of the Church in the early days, soon after I had recovered my faith, and when I realize that nowadays it is not the singing that moves me but the meaning of the words when they are sung in a clear voice to the most appropriate tune, I again acknowledge the great value of this practice. So I waver between the danger that lies in gratifying the senses and the benefits which, as I know from experience, can accrue from singing. Without committing myself to an irrevocable opinion, I am inclined to approve of the custom of singing in church, in order that by indulging the ears, weaker spirits may be inspired with feelings of devotion. Yet when I find the singing itself more moving than the truth which it conveys, I confess that this is a grievous sin, and at those times I would prefer not to hear the singer. (Confessions, 10, 33)
At first, Augustine was beguiled by the beauty of music but believed that God freed him to see that it was the texts to which the music was set that gave it its true significance. We know that St. Paul pledged to sing with the spirit and with the mind also (1 Cor. 14:15). Augustine, however, fearing that his mind would be paralyzed by the gratification of his senses, overreacted and tried to shut out the music. Later he became more trusting and proceeded, with caution, to endorse the singing, at least admitting it on the basis that it indulged the ears of “weaker spirits” to be “inspired with feelings of devotion.” In fact, Augustine was perceptive in his suspicion about the place of beauty in worship. For if music is primarily beautiful, then it has betrayed its function as the bearer of kerygma.
Church Music as Event
In the passage from his Confessions quoted above, Augustine set up a dichotomy between music and words that is too simple. Indeed, there are those two components, but united, they form a third. At the heart of the matter is the fact that music in combination with text sung to God’s glory becomes an event. There is a relationship between this and the dynamics of a service of worship. Corporate worship as the response of the body of Christ to God is central to the church. Here the Word is not just proclaimed, but heard; Christ is not just remembered in the celebration of the Eucharist, but is, through the Holy Spirit, present in reality in the hearts of the faithful. So more is happening in worship than an uninitiated observer might guess.
Communion with the divine is an all-encompassing experience, and so is the church’s music as it swells from the depths of being and bursts forth in praise to God. That music forms an event, a part of the Word proclaimed, whether it is sung by all the people, or by a group of them and heard by others, or played by instrumentalists and heard by all. What does this mean? To hear the Word is to open our hearts and minds and allow the radiance of the Gospel to shine upon us. This is part of the responsibility of all who worship, something not limited to a response to the reading of the Scriptures and preaching of the sermon since these are not the sole ways in which the Word is proclaimed. We enter into the event of worship, participating in praise, not just with our minds, not just with our breath, but with our whole beings. Through the power of the Holy Spirit, music provides one of the avenues through which we may respond in faith and allow Christ to be our way, our truth, and our life.
Worship in Wholeness
When we participate in worship in wholeness, we move from observation to participation. Church music is not part of a concert; the sermon is not an exercise in elocution; the Lord’s supper is not a snack served by people paid with money received earlier during the service. Worship is classified not in the category of entertainment, but conversation. No empty palaver, it is a conversation with accountability attached. We hear the Word of God proclaimed and respond with praise and thanksgiving and show forth Christ’s death until he comes again (1 Cor. 11:26), something which Calvin interpreted as a command to extol God’s gifts to others for “mutual edification” (Short Treatise 18). We also exhibit the fruits of faith as we “grow and increase daily in the faith which is at work in every good deed” (John Calvin, “Thanksgiving after the Supper,” Strassburg Liturgy, Liturgies of the Western Church, ed. Bard Thompson, [Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1961], 208).
In a sermon where he was encouraging the faithful to find oneness in Christ by loving him who first loved us, Augustine exhorted his congregants: “ ‘Sing to the Lord a new song’ … but let not your life belie your words. Sing with the voice, sing with the heart, sing with the mouth, but sing with your whole life” (Sermon 34, The New Chant in The Paschal Mystery, ed. Adalbert Hammon [Staten Island, N.Y.: Alba House, 1969], 183).
This is reminiscent of the advice offered by the author of the letter to the Colossians: “Sing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs with thankfulness in your hearts to God” (Col. 3:16). It is significant that this was said in a context in which the Colossians are directed to love and forgive each other, letting the peace of Christ rule in their hearts. The point here and in Augustine’s sermon is that the Christ-like life must enter every area of life. It is not something to be donned for the weekend in honor of Lord’s Day worship.
Perhaps this was at the root of the prophet Amos’ excoriation of the vacuous use of music not grounded in action. He clamored for justice rather than songs:
Take away from me the noise of your songs;
to the melody of your harps I will not listen.
But let justice roll down like waters,
and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream. (Amos 5:23–24)
There is an ancient prayer asking that what we sing with our lips we may feel in our hearts, and what we feel in our hearts we may show forth in our lives. This captures the essence of worshiping in wholeness.
Church Music as Functional
One presupposition on which church music stands is that it is functional music, a means unto an end, not complete in itself. The beauty and power of music and poetry undergirds worship and lends wings to communication between the human and the divine. Music also promotes the learning of words, and therefore truths, partly by allowing more time for reflection than speech permits, and partly by simply making words easier to memorize. Basil, the fourth-century Bishop of Caesarea, noticed this particular power of music and saw it as an advantage, the gift of the Holy Spirit:
The Holy Spirit sees how much difficulty humanity has in loving virtue, and how we prefer the lure of pleasure to the straight and narrow path. What does he do? He adds the grace of music to the truth of doctrine. Charmed by what we hear, we pluck the fruit of the words without realizing it. (Homily on Psalm 1, PG 29.211)
One ultimate effect of repetitive singing is that people finally begin to believe what they sing, however subconsciously. This must be respected by all who choose music for corporate worship since untruths, sentimental half-truths, and questionable theological concepts can be ingrained as easily as that which is pure and holy.
Of course, much about faith has been taught through the music of the church. Erik Routley singled out hymnody as being able to convert unbelief, strengthen faith, and bind together “the Christian community in that disciplined charity of which singing together is a symbol” (Routley, In Praise of God). The last-mentioned matter of church unity is not a minor one. Of course, all our worship traditions (not to be confused with local customs), handed down through the ages, serve as a means of unifying the body of Christ, whether we recognize it or not. And on a more particular level, in the worship of one congregation, singing binds people together as with one heart they lift their voices in praise. In the late fourth century John Chrysostom, Bishop of Constantinople, commented in a sermon on what he had noticed about congregational singing:
The psalm which occurred just now in the office blended all voices together, and caused one single fully harmonious chant to arise; young and old, rich and poor, women and men, slaves and free, all sang one single melody.… All the inequalities of social life are here banished. Together we make up a single choir in perfect equality of rights and of expression whereby earth imitates heaven. Such is the noble character of the Church. (Homily 5, PG 63.486–7)
Certainly one could wish that this “noble character” of the church united in song be carried out into the world with more effect than it usually is. But at least in worship we are given a vision of what it means to be one in Christ and are confirmed in hope for the day when we all sit down together at the marriage supper of the Lamb. For a while we are changed: “in praise is earth transfigured by the sound and sight of heaven’s everlasting feast” (Routley, In Praise of God).
People enter a different dimension as they worship together. It is to be hoped that music may lift us to a new realm where we are better able to apprehend God’s presence with us.
Church Musicians
Having delved into the nature, power, and function of music in worship, we will here explore the vocation of the church musician, the one who in collaboration with other staff members is primarily responsible for creating the environment where music can make its contribution to worship, where it can do all the above-mentioned things and more. Of course, the separation of church musicians from church music is an artificial one, for they are inseparable. Equally unnatural is the isolation of the function of church musicians from that of pastors who lead worship and who can, by their understanding of the place of music in the church (or lack thereof), either foster its contributions or thwart them. All that is said here about church musicians should be attended to by pastors.
For this study, we will distinguish the work of the church musician from the reprehensible activities of musicians who work in churches, using churches as their concert halls, and also from the activities of those faithful church musicians who serve as choir members and instrumentalists, but who are not in positions of leadership. While this statement obviously raises questions about the first group (whose actions are scrutinized below), it in no way denies the latter people their vocations as they serve God through the use of their talents in music. By the Holy Spirit, we are called to ministry, using our gifts for the edification of the body of Christ. But some are called to be leaders in this ministry, particularly as musicians. Sometimes they are ordained, often they are not. It is their work which we will examine, looking, to the extent that has already been delineated above, for its theological basis, and exploring appropriate motivations and ways in which church musicians function best in relation to the people with whom and to whom they minister.
First, we examine the nefarious activities of the “musician in the church,” negating that as our model. Through the centuries there have been problems with unscrupulous musicians who have exploited the church as a setting for their own advancement. The seventeenth-century German writer, Grossgebauer, complained about this:
Hence, alas, organists, choirmasters, flutists, and other musicians, many of them unspiritual people, rule in our city churches. They play and sing, fiddle and bow to their heart’s content. You hear the various noises but do not know what they mean; whether you are to prepare for battle or go your way. One chases the other in their concertizing manner, and they contend in rivalry to see who can perform most artistically and come closest to the nightingale. (Theophil Grossgebauer, Waechterstimme aus dem verwuesteten Zion Drei Geistreiche Schriften [n.p., 1667], 208, quoted in Freidrich Kalm, Theology of Worship in Seventeenth-Century Lutheranism, trans. Henry Hamann [St. Louis: Concordia Publishing House, 1965], 145)
There is no proper place in worship leadership for musicians who have no commitment to the Christian faith. How can one lead that which one is not doing?
Church music is prayer. The leader of this prayer, the church musician, has a great responsibility to the congregation both to be firm in the faith and to choose faithfully the music used, letting theology inform the choices. This is related to Augustine’s caveats about the use of music: it can be dangerous; it can be manipulative; it can preach a shallow gospel, proclaiming Christ risen but not crucified. So the church musician must never work apart from theology, always keeping in the forefront the God whose praises are being extolled, the God to whom prayers are addressed, the Christ who mediates salvation, and the Holy Spirit who mediates God’s presence in the world, empowering the faithful to live as God’s chosen people. The Second Helvetic Confession says that ministers will perform their tasks better if they fear God, are constant in prayer, attend to spiritual reading, are watchful, and maintain the purity of life that their light may shine before all (5.164). This is good counsel for all who minister in the church, and certainly for musicians.
Church musicians not only work with music, they work with people. In fact, the effectiveness of music in worship depends, in part, on the relationships built among pastors, church musicians, choir members, instrumentalists, et alia, and other congregational members, and upon the resulting mutual ministry that takes place as people mirror the love that God has shown them, caring for one another. Fostering these relationships is as vital a part of the church musician’s duties as the high-level preparation of music for public presentation. For choirs are part of the congregation, “the true choir,” (Directory for the Service of God: Presbyterian Church, USA, S-2.0700), and by singing they represent the rest, just as the pastor in praying speaks for all. And just as the clergy’s prayers in corporate worship become more genuine when they know the needs of their flock, so also can musicians better represent the people if they have struggled through life with them during the week.
Church musicians also help others to make music. This is done by drawing on the innate abilities that every person has at some level, helping people to develop and use their talents to the glory of God. The psalmist did not cry, “Sing praises to God only if you have a trained voice, only if you won’t embarrass us.” All are encouraged to sing, and it is the church musician’s duty to help through thoughtful and sensitive leadership, furthering both the spiritual and the musical growth of the congregation as together they glorify God.
Church musicians do this recognizing that it is possible, not through their own merits, but through God’s grace.