I am working through the syllabification of the College Church hymnal project. It goes like this:
With each hymn I carefully read through (yes, it is one more chance for all kinds of proof-reading) looking for multi-syllable words. Finding a word that needs to be divided for the notes of the melody, I click on the open Merriam-Webster website and type it in. The dictionary gives me the correct syllabification, which I put into the "Find and Replace" function in my Word document. In most cases I can hit "replace all" and move on. (I love the exceptions to that, except that it slows down the process a bit. For example, a word like heavenly which can be 2 or 3 syllables, sung.)
Today at 4:44pm, on page 51 of 440 in my compilation document, I came to the first hymn that was all entirely, properly hyphenated before I got there. The process works! I'm sure I will be making changes all the way through to the last hymn text - it's amazing how many different words are in our hymns! - but this is a psychological breakthrough. I feel that the job may actually get done.
Music notation is nearing the end, in the hands of master engraver Ed Childs. This week I will start sending him these prepared texts, which he can then drop into the music file, and voila! we will have a hymnal page. I'm eager to start seeing those drafts.
Monday, August 11, 2008
Monday, July 21, 2008
The (first) end in view!
Oh there will be many, many more hours at this. But today I came to the first end of a significant text review for the College Church hymnal. Some 400 hymns, proof-read and wrangled through editorial consistency. These texts were some time ago put in hymnal sequence (thank, Jonathan A.!) and that is the order I have been dealing with them in this text review, beginning at Calvin College back in June.
This afternoon - bless God for quiet summer afternoons in the church office! - I reached the end of the initial compilation. Now I am at work on the "final batch" of 2 dozen texts, which need to be placed in sequence, proof-read, and edited. This won't be fast. It won't be fast, and they won't be the last. Because I have seen where there are still holes that (now I see them again) I left last fall, "to be filled in later." Only 1 Ascension hymn? Only 1 Pentecost hymn? After all my ranting about these Evangelical Feasts?
Well, it just serves to remind me that the project is after all farther from being complete than I want to admit. But today it is easy to see that the end is truly in view. I'll finish plowing through this batch in a couple of days, then move the whole collection on to be hyphenated, from there to be dropped into the beautiful pages of music that are prepared and waiting for their completion.
It is truly the first end in view. If it's only a corner, at least there is light in it.
This afternoon - bless God for quiet summer afternoons in the church office! - I reached the end of the initial compilation. Now I am at work on the "final batch" of 2 dozen texts, which need to be placed in sequence, proof-read, and edited. This won't be fast. It won't be fast, and they won't be the last. Because I have seen where there are still holes that (now I see them again) I left last fall, "to be filled in later." Only 1 Ascension hymn? Only 1 Pentecost hymn? After all my ranting about these Evangelical Feasts?
Well, it just serves to remind me that the project is after all farther from being complete than I want to admit. But today it is easy to see that the end is truly in view. I'll finish plowing through this batch in a couple of days, then move the whole collection on to be hyphenated, from there to be dropped into the beautiful pages of music that are prepared and waiting for their completion.
It is truly the first end in view. If it's only a corner, at least there is light in it.
Monday, July 14, 2008
Power and Safety?
One month ago, I had the joy of sitting in my sunroom on a Sunday morning, appreciating the summer service schedule that allowed me to watch a phenomenal storm roll in from the west, thunder across our neighborhood, drench our yard, and scatter amazing electrical displays. (Only later did it occur to me that, as cool as that was, perhaps I was not wise to sit and watch this in a room whose walls are all windows.)
If you think I am going to now riff on Psalm 29 - well, I wish I were. I will do in a couple of weeks when I teach Bible Boot Camp on the subject of worship, from their memory verses Psalm 29:1-2. Man, I love that lesson!
No, because what came next still disappoints and saddens me, for some reason.
On my drive to church it was obvious that the storm had been severe, and that power was going to be a problem. I arrived at the church to find a hastily scrawled sign that services were canceled, at least for the time. (What exactly did it mean? The initial syntax was not helpful.) I hustled into the sanctuary to find the morning's musicians had already figured out how to make the service work without power: piano instead of organ, that is easy. Small piano from the choir room instead of grand piano to accompany the solo vocalist - Christy's voice can easily (not to mention gorgeously) fill the room; the choir piano would not overpower her. With a massive skylight and a generous east window, there would be ample light for the congregation - so long as the dark storm did not return. Preaching would be a problem, but the rest of the service could roll without power. After all, we had absolutely nothing to keep us from doing church the way it's been done for centuries.
That is just one of the simple glories of a traditional/historical/acoustical worship service!
I came across to the church offices to try to find out who had made the decision to cancel services, and whether it was a given that we would. Key players in making that decision were present, and I do - no, honestly, really, I do - respect that decision. For safely reasons, we would cancel the services, and tell those arriving for a 9:30 service that we would not hold a morning service. Even if power came on? Well, thankfully (?) we did not have to deal with that.
Perhaps the nicest thing to come of this was that the ministry staff had the privilege of greeting people as they arrived, to explain what was up. And this gave us many good, brief, personal conversations ... many more than we would have had on a normal Sunday. I think we all enjoyed and appreciated that. For my part, I sort of had to explain that the one thing everyone was arriving for, we could have done: we could have held a worship service. What we could not do was open nurseries, navigate most of our hallways, or use bathrooms (because almost none have windows).
So, yes, it was the safe thing to do. It might have been the legal thing to do, vis-a-vis fire marshall code. I don't know. I just know that it was a little embarrasing to tell non-American worshipers (Asians, Indians) that we were canceling services because we had no electricity. It was sort of awkward to hear (though not critically) from one of our life-long members, cradle rolled in the 1930s, that he was sure a morning service had never been canceled before. I had to speculate: would Kent Hughes have canceled services? Was this decision - not lightly made, and made for all the right reasons - all too easy to make, at some level? What did it say, however unintended, about the importance and value placed on our weekly Sunday morning gathering?
Let me stop here and reiterate my respect for those who made the decision, under the press of time, with all the best intentions. If for any reason a reader quotes or references any part of my critique in this post without including my support of those who led in this matter, I will consider it a gross misrepresentation of the situation and of my opinions about it. We must be able to critique without demeaning; to question without disrespect; to ponder without second-guessing.
Well, that was all a month ago, and really what are the chances that we'll be confronted with this situation again? Trees and limbs were down all around us. Over 50,000 homes were without power early that Sunday morning (the number grew higher through the morning). It was not restored until late afternoon in the church's neighborhood, and even then it went out again before coming on to stay around 6pm. Still, I hope we have learned from it, and that if there is a next time we may be prepared to make a different decision.
I keep stopping myself from writing the Monday Morning Quarterback "what if." I hope, instead, that it won't be needed.
If you think I am going to now riff on Psalm 29 - well, I wish I were. I will do in a couple of weeks when I teach Bible Boot Camp on the subject of worship, from their memory verses Psalm 29:1-2. Man, I love that lesson!
No, because what came next still disappoints and saddens me, for some reason.
On my drive to church it was obvious that the storm had been severe, and that power was going to be a problem. I arrived at the church to find a hastily scrawled sign that services were canceled, at least for the time. (What exactly did it mean? The initial syntax was not helpful.) I hustled into the sanctuary to find the morning's musicians had already figured out how to make the service work without power: piano instead of organ, that is easy. Small piano from the choir room instead of grand piano to accompany the solo vocalist - Christy's voice can easily (not to mention gorgeously) fill the room; the choir piano would not overpower her. With a massive skylight and a generous east window, there would be ample light for the congregation - so long as the dark storm did not return. Preaching would be a problem, but the rest of the service could roll without power. After all, we had absolutely nothing to keep us from doing church the way it's been done for centuries.
That is just one of the simple glories of a traditional/historical/acoustical worship service!
I came across to the church offices to try to find out who had made the decision to cancel services, and whether it was a given that we would. Key players in making that decision were present, and I do - no, honestly, really, I do - respect that decision. For safely reasons, we would cancel the services, and tell those arriving for a 9:30 service that we would not hold a morning service. Even if power came on? Well, thankfully (?) we did not have to deal with that.
Perhaps the nicest thing to come of this was that the ministry staff had the privilege of greeting people as they arrived, to explain what was up. And this gave us many good, brief, personal conversations ... many more than we would have had on a normal Sunday. I think we all enjoyed and appreciated that. For my part, I sort of had to explain that the one thing everyone was arriving for, we could have done: we could have held a worship service. What we could not do was open nurseries, navigate most of our hallways, or use bathrooms (because almost none have windows).
So, yes, it was the safe thing to do. It might have been the legal thing to do, vis-a-vis fire marshall code. I don't know. I just know that it was a little embarrasing to tell non-American worshipers (Asians, Indians) that we were canceling services because we had no electricity. It was sort of awkward to hear (though not critically) from one of our life-long members, cradle rolled in the 1930s, that he was sure a morning service had never been canceled before. I had to speculate: would Kent Hughes have canceled services? Was this decision - not lightly made, and made for all the right reasons - all too easy to make, at some level? What did it say, however unintended, about the importance and value placed on our weekly Sunday morning gathering?
Let me stop here and reiterate my respect for those who made the decision, under the press of time, with all the best intentions. If for any reason a reader quotes or references any part of my critique in this post without including my support of those who led in this matter, I will consider it a gross misrepresentation of the situation and of my opinions about it. We must be able to critique without demeaning; to question without disrespect; to ponder without second-guessing.
Well, that was all a month ago, and really what are the chances that we'll be confronted with this situation again? Trees and limbs were down all around us. Over 50,000 homes were without power early that Sunday morning (the number grew higher through the morning). It was not restored until late afternoon in the church's neighborhood, and even then it went out again before coming on to stay around 6pm. Still, I hope we have learned from it, and that if there is a next time we may be prepared to make a different decision.
I keep stopping myself from writing the Monday Morning Quarterback "what if." I hope, instead, that it won't be needed.
Monday, July 7, 2008
Time away
Most of the past month has been spent away from the office. Only one week completely away from the computer, though. And the past two weeks would have been an excellent time to blog the way blogging was meant - as a web journal to process and report the stimulating Calvin College Seminar , "Christian Hymnody in Historical Perspective."
I spent non-seminar hours in a focused editing mode for the College Church hymnal - proof-reading texts whilst and at the same time applying editorial consistency to the texts. After 4 hours of seminar and up to 7 more at the computer, I guess journaling was the last thing I felt like doing. Oh well, at least now I have ample material for reflection and processing in this space!
Briefly, then:
The Seminar - an amazing opportunity to interact with others on the issues and texts and uses of Christian hymns. Dr. Edith Blumhofer is a skilled seminar leader and brought interesting guests in for each day's seminar and discussion.
The Campus - Calvin College really does hospitality well. From the little welcome bag in our apartments to the on-site seminar staff. Really a model operation.
The Surprises -
* Wednesday morning prayer: the ancient models for gathering together before the work of the day begins, still works. If I ever started a church or campus ministry, this is something I'd want to work into it. I have long felt this way, and it was reinforced by 2 very different morning prayer experiences.
* The degree and ways to which hymns and hymnody appear in academic scholarship.
* The small world that we live in ... connections continue to surprise and delight me.
More anon, as I continue to process this amazing experience and gift of time, focus, and accomplishment.
I spent non-seminar hours in a focused editing mode for the College Church hymnal - proof-reading texts whilst and at the same time applying editorial consistency to the texts. After 4 hours of seminar and up to 7 more at the computer, I guess journaling was the last thing I felt like doing. Oh well, at least now I have ample material for reflection and processing in this space!
Briefly, then:
The Seminar - an amazing opportunity to interact with others on the issues and texts and uses of Christian hymns. Dr. Edith Blumhofer is a skilled seminar leader and brought interesting guests in for each day's seminar and discussion.
The Campus - Calvin College really does hospitality well. From the little welcome bag in our apartments to the on-site seminar staff. Really a model operation.
The Surprises -
* Wednesday morning prayer: the ancient models for gathering together before the work of the day begins, still works. If I ever started a church or campus ministry, this is something I'd want to work into it. I have long felt this way, and it was reinforced by 2 very different morning prayer experiences.
* The degree and ways to which hymns and hymnody appear in academic scholarship.
* The small world that we live in ... connections continue to surprise and delight me.
More anon, as I continue to process this amazing experience and gift of time, focus, and accomplishment.
Monday, June 9, 2008
Musing
Why is it that hymn-singing churches seem to be less inclined to confuse “worship” with “music”? Put another way, the churches that have abandoned, or all but abandoned, the singing of classic historical hymns appear more likely to use the word “worship” when really all they mean is “music” or “when people sing in services.”
This question has been burbling in my head for a while, but I haven’t taken time to sort it out. My initial conclusions, such as they may be, fall along these lines:
* There is a general sense among those who do not sing hymns, that a developed line of thought with multiple stanzas is too cerebral for the emotional act of worship. That suggests that worship is primarily emotional, and not volitional or intellectual. “Too many words” is how some have actually expressed this to me. So, music in the service is their time to genuinely worship.
* There is an appropriate understanding that worship is participatory. So if a group is engaged in an extended set of singing (and accompanying physical postures, gestures, and rhythmic accompaniment) this is worship. It is contrasted with the parts of the service in which we receive – especially the sermon – and appear to be more passive.
* The youth rally culture certainly has played a part in this. I remember when the youth pastor (at another church, in another state, in another decade!) regularly took students to a regional youth rally on a Christian college campus. I distinctly recall when his language shifted from “rally” to “worship” – though nothing changed about the event. And that language shift corresponded to a shift in the way he and the students talked about music in the church. These students are now young (and not so young!) adult leaders in churches, and my youth pastor friend has planted a vibrant congregation … where people call the musical part of the service their worship.
Does it matter? I think it does. If words matter, then these words matter. Calling our shared music in divine service “worship,” elevates music to a role not warranted by scripture, and demotes the biblical understanding of worship. Sure, at some level it’s only words. But words are all we have. So I continue to try to be gentle in correcting someone who says worship when he means singing. And try to carefully teach that our musicians are leading in the congregation’s musical expression of praise, adoration, prayer … and yes, granted, worship.
This question has been burbling in my head for a while, but I haven’t taken time to sort it out. My initial conclusions, such as they may be, fall along these lines:
* There is a general sense among those who do not sing hymns, that a developed line of thought with multiple stanzas is too cerebral for the emotional act of worship. That suggests that worship is primarily emotional, and not volitional or intellectual. “Too many words” is how some have actually expressed this to me. So, music in the service is their time to genuinely worship.
* There is an appropriate understanding that worship is participatory. So if a group is engaged in an extended set of singing (and accompanying physical postures, gestures, and rhythmic accompaniment) this is worship. It is contrasted with the parts of the service in which we receive – especially the sermon – and appear to be more passive.
* The youth rally culture certainly has played a part in this. I remember when the youth pastor (at another church, in another state, in another decade!) regularly took students to a regional youth rally on a Christian college campus. I distinctly recall when his language shifted from “rally” to “worship” – though nothing changed about the event. And that language shift corresponded to a shift in the way he and the students talked about music in the church. These students are now young (and not so young!) adult leaders in churches, and my youth pastor friend has planted a vibrant congregation … where people call the musical part of the service their worship.
Does it matter? I think it does. If words matter, then these words matter. Calling our shared music in divine service “worship,” elevates music to a role not warranted by scripture, and demotes the biblical understanding of worship. Sure, at some level it’s only words. But words are all we have. So I continue to try to be gentle in correcting someone who says worship when he means singing. And try to carefully teach that our musicians are leading in the congregation’s musical expression of praise, adoration, prayer … and yes, granted, worship.
Learning humility
I had another opportunity on the heels of last week’s post. Check out the comments that follow it. Ha! Oh well …
Monday, June 2, 2008
The very merry, nearly nary, month of May
Mondays have gotten away from me lately, and te decet hymnus has taken the hit. As we roll into summer and a different rhythm to the week, I hope to regain some momentum in ongoing reflection on music, the public assembly for divine worship, and ministry.
Today we celebrated the life of a non-musician, whose musical wife sings in the Chancel Choir. Dr. Earle Cairns celebrated his 98th birthday one week ago today, and passed into glory last Wednesday. He and JoAnn had ample time over the years to prepare his service, and while he was no musician he did have a discriminating appreciation for music, loved hymn singing, and was a fan of the Chancel Choir.
So it was a privilege for the Choir to be asked if we would sing Earle’s service. In particular, we were asked to sing the Harry Rowe Shelley setting of “The King of Love My Shepherd Is.” This classic anthem (copyright renewed in 1914!) has long been in this music library, but has not been used in worship by any of the last three choir directors (including myself). I’m not sure why. Some anthems get overused, I think, and set aside; and it takes a while – or a special occasion or a special request – to rediscover them. In this case, I have pulled the octavo several times to consider its use, realized that we don’t have enough copies in the library to use it, and been too busy, distracted, or lazy to do anything about it.
I have to admit that in my prep for this morning, I was still somewhat ambivalent about the anthem. I was sure it would sing well, it wasn’t that. I just wasn’t sure how I felt about the piece. Add to that the uncertainty of who all would show up to sing, and how the sections would balance … Well, I made some notes about how we could combine voices, balance parts, cover solo sections, etc. We would make it work, and we would not be embarrassed to offer this anthem in service honoring a dear saint and his chorister widow.
So it was with a deep joy that I learned how lovely this psalm setting (Psalm 23) is. We sang it through first with my suggested alterations, but with 4 perfectly balanced sections and the sweetest sound imaginable, we fell back to the voicing as given. “The King of Love My Shepherd Is” was written for Solo Quartet and Chorus. We did use unison women on the Alto solo, and unison men on the Bass solo. But beyond that we let each section sing throughout, whether marked Solo or Chorus. It was a glorious, almost numismatic sound.
You’d never mistake the melody for a new tune. It seems very distinctly 19th century, and yet not distractingly dated. The organ accompaniment is interesting and supportive. I repent of my pride and indolence, and now intend to find and purchase enough copies for the full Chancel Choir to use in the year ahead.
It’s a constant learning, unlearning, and relearning. Oh for the grace and humility to grow into this work!
Today we celebrated the life of a non-musician, whose musical wife sings in the Chancel Choir. Dr. Earle Cairns celebrated his 98th birthday one week ago today, and passed into glory last Wednesday. He and JoAnn had ample time over the years to prepare his service, and while he was no musician he did have a discriminating appreciation for music, loved hymn singing, and was a fan of the Chancel Choir.
So it was a privilege for the Choir to be asked if we would sing Earle’s service. In particular, we were asked to sing the Harry Rowe Shelley setting of “The King of Love My Shepherd Is.” This classic anthem (copyright renewed in 1914!) has long been in this music library, but has not been used in worship by any of the last three choir directors (including myself). I’m not sure why. Some anthems get overused, I think, and set aside; and it takes a while – or a special occasion or a special request – to rediscover them. In this case, I have pulled the octavo several times to consider its use, realized that we don’t have enough copies in the library to use it, and been too busy, distracted, or lazy to do anything about it.
I have to admit that in my prep for this morning, I was still somewhat ambivalent about the anthem. I was sure it would sing well, it wasn’t that. I just wasn’t sure how I felt about the piece. Add to that the uncertainty of who all would show up to sing, and how the sections would balance … Well, I made some notes about how we could combine voices, balance parts, cover solo sections, etc. We would make it work, and we would not be embarrassed to offer this anthem in service honoring a dear saint and his chorister widow.
So it was with a deep joy that I learned how lovely this psalm setting (Psalm 23) is. We sang it through first with my suggested alterations, but with 4 perfectly balanced sections and the sweetest sound imaginable, we fell back to the voicing as given. “The King of Love My Shepherd Is” was written for Solo Quartet and Chorus. We did use unison women on the Alto solo, and unison men on the Bass solo. But beyond that we let each section sing throughout, whether marked Solo or Chorus. It was a glorious, almost numismatic sound.
You’d never mistake the melody for a new tune. It seems very distinctly 19th century, and yet not distractingly dated. The organ accompaniment is interesting and supportive. I repent of my pride and indolence, and now intend to find and purchase enough copies for the full Chancel Choir to use in the year ahead.
It’s a constant learning, unlearning, and relearning. Oh for the grace and humility to grow into this work!
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