Belonging

 One of my pastors asked me to contribute a brief thought about how the music ministry--and choir in particular--contribute to the congregation's sense of belonging together. Here, somewhat expanded, is what I wrote:

 Reaching back to David's organization of the music establishment of the temple, we see that biblical worship carries the responsibility of a dual role in the worship of God's people. Some time take a look at 1 Chronicles 25 and see how thoughtful and thorough David's plan was. (There is a lot to unpack here, and I just may do that over a short series on this chapter.) For now, note that the musicians were of the priestly tribe of Levi. They prophesied with instruments and singing, offering thanksgiving and praise.

Musicians are ministers of the Word, functioning as priests--addressing God on behalf of the people, and speaking the words of God to the people. Music with words accomplish this dual function in relatively apparent ways: Do the words express the praise, prayer, longing (etc.) of God's people? Do the lyrics communicate biblical words and truths to the people? (If or when texts do neither, there is a problem!) In this way, sung music is meant to draw the congregation together--in community, and in our unity in Christ.

 

But we should note that, according to Paul the Apostle, this role for music is not limited to musicians! In Ephesians 5 and Colossians 3, music is a "one another" ministry. Paul says that when God's people are together they express the fullness of the Spirit "speaking to one another in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs" (Eph. 5); that the Word of Christ dwells richly in them as they "speak in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs" (Col. 3). Again, lots to unpack here, and you may count on me spending time to do just that! Psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs are Spirit-filled ministry of teaching and admonishing--one vibrant and vital way that the priesthood of believers is exercised. Whether that is through a choir (as in the temple) or in small groups (as in Paul's churches). 

 

Sung music is meant to draw the congregation together, in community, in the Spirit, in the richness of the Word of Christ. We do this for each other when we sing hymns. The choir does this on our behalf in a kind of priestly role--a priest among priests--speaking both to God and for God.

Instrumental music provides opportunity for the gathered community to reflect on what has preceded it, to prepare for what follows, to pray, etc. In this regard I think of the Selah in the Psalms. Its meaning isn't entirely clear, but among the options proposed by scholars is that Selah is meant to indicate a time for reflection, possibly (likely?) with instruments playing. It might signal a repeat of what precedes the Selah. I like to think Selah is a time to stop and reflect; and this is what our instrumental musicians provide in our services. How does that contribute to our belonging together? Isn't it a "private" or individual moment? Without intentionality, yes, it is. But  if we each use the instrumental moments to reflect, prepare, pray, etc., then those moments are times when we each engage meaningfully--we become participants in the offering of music. 

 With these brief thoughts I want to encourage church musicians--vocal and instrumental--and the congregation alike. What we do is compatible, symbiotic, and priestly. The ministry of music is a ministry of the Word, meant for the building up of the Body of Christ, in unity.

New Year . . . new me?

 2024 begins with me in a surprising turn. Eleven years after leaving a full-time pastoral music position--eleven years of study and collegiate teaching--I have begun a part-time position as director of music at New Covenant Church in Naperville, IL. (Are there any other Napervilles out there?) 

Having let this site languish . . . after a few fits and starts (more fits than starts) . . . now I am back in this great work on a weekly basis. Oh, this blog is not "the great work," I mean this new position. I hope to turn here to reflect, work out, and communicate about matters related to my vocation. This will also be where I maintain a "newsletter" for the musicians of New Covenant. So if it gets a bit local (hopefully not parochial), you've been warned.

2023 was not a great year for me and my family. So when I was first approached about this position it was easy to decline the necessary conversations. But at some point late in the fall it seemed wrong to keep my distance. Then (as so often in my experience) I found my interest, my eagerness, and my heart drawn in. New Covenant were kind to let me put off my start date until after Christmas--it was important that my family have an unencumbered season.

Now here I am again, partnering with preachers, scheduling musicians, directing a choir, and standing in front of a congregation who loves to sing. My decade in the university setting was deeply satisfying at many levels, and never dull. But yes, this feels like home.

If you are new to Te decet hymnus, follow the link from the panel on the right to find what the name means and why I have chosen it.

Sing on,

History

I wrote this almost a year ago, got busy (and forgetful) and just realized I never published it!

Now as I plan to re-boot this page, upon assuming new worship planning duties  . . .  

Some time ago, a young couple, students in the Wheaton Grad School Church History program, sang in the College Church Choir. They came to Wheaton from a Christian college in another state, from a particular tradition. When I asked them about their interests in church history, they told me that the one church history course taught at their college began with 1940. Think of that. (And if you are a history of American church history you can pretty much guess the denominational background of said college.)

I am enjoying the history component of the worship course I am currently teaching. There is so much to know, and so much to learn from our ancestors in faith. It is the temptation of every generation to think of ourselves as the apex of development. It is a particularly modern temptation to discard the practices (and wisdom, perhaps) of the past--even the recent past. [See C. S. Lewis, "On Reading Old Books" for a bracing reflection on this.]

As protestant evangelicals, we often leap from the New Testament to Martin Luther (or 1940 USA). We may have read the Church Fathers and jumped from the 4th century to the Reformation (or the Fundamentalist-Modernist controversy of the early 20th century). But it seems to me that we err if we do not take our time with the Middle Ages, the Eastern and Roman churches, and note the many reform initiatives, as well as the details about which we continue to be suspicious or dismissive. To see how the church handled change and reform--and how she also failed to change and reform--in many times and places, helps us see how at risk our own assumptions may be.

Worship practices that recognize the big historic picture of the public expression of our faith might just avoid some of the blinders and idols of our day. May those of us who plan, lead, and teach worship be committed to semper reformanda, "always reforming," with an eye to the wisdom and lessons of our past.