The summer has brought quite a change for my Karen and
me. Late in the spring, Karen and her brother learned that their mother had a
brain tumor. Karen’s already established monthly trip to the parental home (don’t
ask) became bi-weekly. By June Mom was in the hospital, then a nursing home.
Karen drove her parents to the
University Hospital for a consultation with a neurological oncologist. Later,
the children took the parents back, together, to meet with a surgeon.
Then things went quickly. Before addressing the
prospects for surgery, the medical staff felt that Mom needed other, more
critical attention. The “day trip” ended with a hospitalization, and lots of
questions. Karen came home, then turned right around and spent most of the July 4 week sitting
with her mother in hospital. Then, after another two-day trip home, we went
back together. By now it was becoming clear that whatever would happen with Mom’s
health, coming back to her home was not likely to happen soon, if ever.
I have a sister who lives conveniently close to the
Hospital, and that is where Karen stayed – and later where we both stayed –
while sitting with her Mom. We
were not sleeping well through Thursday night, but from whatever sleep we were
woken at about 2:30am Friday, with a call from the nurse. No, we didn’t need to
come just then, she just wanted to be sure someone could be there before the
9am transfer to a hospice care facility. Well, then of course we weren’t
sleeping at all.
At 4:30am the nurse called again. Yes, now perhaps we
should call Karen’s brother and father, and come in. We threw ourselves together
and hopped in the car. That’s when Karen said to me:
“I want you to be my pastor now, OK?”
Well, I’d like to think I would have been. But I probably
needed the prompt. Maybe it isn’t common for a music pastor to have a lot of
hospital experience. A little death bed experience. I don’t know. I’ve had
enough that I hope I know how to comport myself, what to say (and not say),
what to read, how to pray. But I’m not sure that would have been my natural
mode in the wee hours at my mother-in-law’s bedside. My Karen is very pulled
together, capable, thoughtful but not emotional, and I’m not entirely certain I
would have slipped on my pastoral shoes for her. But of course, she had never
sat and watched someone die. And here she was headed to sit with her dying
mother.
I don’t really have a set litany of bedside readings.
There are some obvious passages; and then there’s the Holy Spirit, whom we have
to trust to lead us in our reading and our praying. We entered Mom’s room, spoke to her, stood by her bed, and took our (unprofessional) stock of
her condition. Karen did what she could to help her mom be comfortable. She
held her hand, spoke with her, stroked her forehead and put Vaseline on her
dried lips. I stood on the other side and read scripture, and prayed. We were
mostly quiet. Karen had some music on her iPad, that Mom had enjoyed in
previous days.
First I read John 14, “let not your hearts be
troubled.” 1 Corinthians 15, on resurrection. Revelation 21 and 22, on heaven.
Psalm 84, “How lovely is your dwelling place . . . The Lord God is a sun and
shield, blessed are all who take refuge in him." We prayed. We were quiet. More
hymns. Then I read from Psalm 62 and 63. Our friend Jerry Sundberg’s recording of our friend Ed Child’s arrangement of “This is my Father’s world” was the
last thing Karen’s mother heard on this side of heaven. (We are told that
hearing is the last remaining sense.) She was gone, and Karen put on a piano
recording of Mom’s favorite hymn, “Holy, Holy, Holy” (arranged and recorded by
our friend Levi Henkel).
So, in the end, I was Karen’s pastor. I was also her
husband. I may give a pastoral hug to the grieving, but not a neck rub, not an
embrace, and different tender words. I didn’t need an invitation to be her
husband. But I’m glad that Karen reminded me to be for her what I also have
been for others. If only for those ninety minutes, twenty-seven years of
preparation were worth it.
Like Evening in the Palace of Reason, Paul Elie’s 2012 publication is an excellent
bibliographic resource for my thesis, but not something I can cite directly. Compared
to the Gaines book, there is less of immediate relevance to my topic. Still, it
is a fascinating take on Bach, the man and the music and the legacy. The author’s
unique approach is an exploration of the role of Bach’s music in the
development of recording technology. The “inventions” of Reinventing Bach begin with Bach himself as a master organ designer
(one of the main purposes of Bach’s various travels was to inspect and play new
organs) and end with the iPod. Along the way, Elie weaves the Bach biography
and compositions with the biographies and recorded performances of musicians at
the forefront of modern technologies.
So, we have Bach and Albert Schweitzer, Bach and Pablo
Casals, then Stokowski, Glenn Gould, and finally Yo-Yo Ma. Organ works on the
earliest recording devices; the cello suites on 78s; Bach at the movies and on
the radio, the Goldberg Variations in the recording studio; and Bach on the
streets in casual performances and earbuds. Ultimately, Elie has given us a
portrait of his introduction to, and growing obsession with, Bach and his
music. By the time we realize that this is, in a sense, the main motivation for
the book, it is too late. The author has captivated with these sprawling
chapters that take us back and forth in time – very much the modern
story-telling mode – weaving biographies and connecting histories and
traditions to highlight the undisputed centrality of J. S. Bach in the canon of
western music.
Pun intended, and apt.
The other nice touch is the way Elie teases out the musical
meaning of the word, “invention,” by the end of the book. Namely, Bach’s
compositions called “Inventions,” which Elie notes are exercises demonstrating
contrapuntal techniques and designed for the education of others (notably his
elder children) and patterns for them to work from. In that sense, Bach’s music
served as a pattern for the exploration of twentieth-century recording technologies;
each building on the previous and becoming successively more accessible to the
non-musical consuming public.
I doubt there is any truly famous recording that is not
touched upon in Reinventing Bach –
from Schweitzer’s legendary wax cylinders to pervasive YouTube and iTunes
downloads. Technical, biographical, historical – while musicologists will
(rightly and understandably) argue about the merits of this contribution to “Bach
studies,” it is hard to resist the sheer enjoyment Paul Elie takes in the music
of Bach.
Which brings me to my final point: say what you will
about the relevance of Bach to today’s world (and even to today’s church), Bach
cannot be ignored. There is something about this music that people have to
reckon with if they are going to be serious at all about western music. (One of
the fun bits Elie brings out is the ways jazz and rock musicians have
appreciated, incorporated, and co-opted Bach.) For Elie, as for many, there is
a deeply personal and spiritual dimension to the music. There is a reason it is
not “easy listening.” Much of it was forged during a time of changing tastes
and styles and seems to be obscurantist. Though others read the same material
differently, it is unavoidably the case that Bach wrote from a distinctively
philosophical (and I argue, theological) framework that understood what was
coming in the Enlightenment, knew how to use (or cater to) the new aesthetic,
but did not lose his mooring in “the great tradition.” And so, since he did not
reject the healthy aspects of the ancients, he remains vibrant and relevant to
us post-moderns.
Reinventing Bach will
interest (and may infuriate) Bach lovers. Non-musicians, and worship music leaders who wouldn’t
give the time of day to Bach, may read this with satisfaction if only to learn
about a man who should not be ignored, and learn too about the technologies
that cannot be avoided.
Reinventing Bach
by Paul Elie (New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2012)
P.S. This would make a great e-book, with links to recordings
along the way.
In Robin Parry’s little book on the Trinity in worship, I
picked up the title for Nick Page’s delightful exploration of a deplorable
condition in modern worship songs. And hey, this is not the rant of a
traditionalist dinosaur. Like Parry, Page is an English charismatic Christian
who embraces the “worship song” ethos, and wants to see it live up to its
potential. Published in 2004, one would like to think that Page’s diagnosis and
cure have been accepted and applied. Sadly, in my observation,
not as much as one would wish. A couple of years ago I pressed a fellow pastor
about a particular song choice, wondering if it was incoherent. He didn’t see it that way; I think Nick Page would
have.
The author of And now let’s move into a time of nonsense: Why Worship Songs are Failing theChurch,Nick Page is a free-lance author with a wide range of interests,
many (though not all) connected to the church and Christian life. Think of DickLowden, with an English accent and Christian faith. The man is funny. And that lets him
get intensely serious with an issue he cares deeply about. Maybe it’s because I
come at this concern from the opposite side – I think worship songs
have a complementary role, not a primary role, in congregational song – but through
Page’s humor I find his observations and arguments compelling.
Page equates the writing of worship songs in our
generation with the flowering of hymnody in the past. As with old hymns (most
of which we no longer sing, for very good reasons) he assumes most of the new
will fall away, leaving the best for the next generation(s). When I came to
this realization myself, some years ago, I became much less anxious about
dealing with new music. And much more eager to settle only for the songs with
some lasting values: are the words true and meaningful? Do the melodies sound
anything like what the words mean? Can a large inter-generational group sing
them well? Well, enough about me, let’s get on to Why Worship Songs are Failing the Church. This book is directed
toward song-writers, but in my view it should be read by those who select the
songs (worship leaders and pastors) and
by everyone who wants to have a voice in worship discussions.
When we equate music with worship, and worship with music
(and really, why does this still happen?) we isolate worship from life. (24)
Excellent point. Can someone who embraces the notion of “lifestyle” worship
continue to use the word “worship” when they mean “singing,” or isolate “worship”
from “preaching”?
A free-lance writer with wide-ranging interests had
better have a love for words. Nick Page does. And he so obviously loves to
sing. And is eager to be a genuine worshiper. His critique from within his own
tradition is “friendly fire.” It ought to be read by all evangelicals, at
least, and other Christians who look to that charismatic tradition for their worship
songs. Page applauds those who are not writing nonsense, names
some who are, and illustrates that nonsense with a series of songs by the
fictitious Kevin Molecule, worship leader at the Stokes Poges Strict
Tabernacle. In a series of letters to his music publisher, we get a look inside
the head of the worst-case scenario . . . Which is to say, perhaps, the
all-too-common. Incoherent? Honestly, Kevin’s songs are no worse than some you and I have
heard, seen, and either been forced to sing or have refused to sing. Like this
excellent viral video, Kevin’s songs can hardly serve as a parody for what is being
sung in churches of all kinds.
Here is Kevin Molecule's first song:
Jesus, Jesus, Jesus
We glorify the Lamb
once slain
Jesus, Jesus, Jesus
We enter into the
land all over again.
Build a great big
throne with our worship,
Help us live in
resurrection power;
And you will reign
Like a bride
ordained,
For our anointed consummating
hour.
(repeat) Jesus, Jesus, Jesus,
etc.
(just before page 1)
Excuse me: this is what I meant about incoherent lyrics.
Yes, all the words make sense, and we can even trace the sources of the ideas.
But, really? The songs get better (or, not) throughout the book, and at the end
(122) we learn that with only a very few (very obvious) exceptions, they were cobbled
together from actual published worship songs.
So much for the words. But, seriously, if you can find
this book, it is worth reading Kevin’s songs. And asking, “haven’t I sung this
one?” Page also addresses song-writing, and has an excellent description of the
pop song as the model for worship songs. (36-39) Remember, this is from a friend
of the concept. He calls the model “the spiritual equivalent of the paper
plate.” (39) “So much of worship is turning in on itself,” (42) which of course
is its pop song legacy and the unintended consequence of worship as
entertainment (44f) – his critique, not mine! To make up for the innate lack of
qualities, because the words and melody can’t quite sell some songs,
we press for greater performance forces (bigger bands). Friends and fellow
worship leaders: If our pastors and churches are pressing for more people on
the “stage” to “lead worship,” we need to be asking some questions. Are we too
close to the entertainment roots of our worship music; and are our songs
inherently dependent upon volume to “work?” These are not my questions today –
they come from Nick Page.
Page is not all critique. He provides some excellent
advice to would-be song-writers. Read poetry; study excellent songwriters of
all genres; ask others to evaluate your lyrics; be an artist; take time. His fifth
chapter (52-81) denies that sincerity is enough; here is a charismatic arguing
for the importance of technique. His model is Newton’s “Amazing Grace;” he urges writers
to write from their own experiences. “They [your song lyrics] should not be
rehashes of other people’s experiences or rewrites of other lyrics.” Ironic,
since Newton’s best-loved, most genre-crossing hymn is also the most-cribbed genre-crossing hymn ever written.
Here's a book that could have been an important addition
to my thesis bibliography. It is well researched, addresses some of the issues
I need to deal with, and (perhaps most importantly) it confirms what I'd like
to say about Bach. But it is written at a popular level, with a tone that
almost begs not to be taken seriously. That's too bad.
Evening in the Palace of Reason by James R. Gaines turns out to be an account of changing
cultural and philosophical assumptions. The vehicle for his comparison, the
conflict in changing times, is the famous meeting of Johann Sebastian Bach and
Frederick the Great, King of Prussia. “Gentlemen, old Bach is here.” (It’s a
meeting, and a famous quotation,that I have
already used in my thesis.) Bach represents a world view which took traditional
religion seriously and composed according to philosophical principles that can
be traced back to Pythagoras and Boethius. Frederick is presented as Europe’s
first “enlightened” monarch, or at least as one given to the Enlightenment values.
(In Germany, this era was called “Erklärung” – or a time of clarity,
elucidation. It is the age of reason.)
C. P. E. Bach (Carl) was one of Frederick’s musicians.
Like his brother W. Friedemann Bach, Carl was composing in the new style, the gallant style, the Empfindsamer
Stil. Music was no longer to carry meaning, but to entertain, to amuse. So
when Bach arrived at Frederick’s hall, he was “old Bach” the father of Carl,
and “old Bach” the fussy old-school contrapuntalist who composed as if the
music actually mattered; as if by composing some meaning could be transmitted
to the hearers.
There is a lot of speculation in the book, which is one
reason it is not suitable as a thesis reference. But to be fair, Bach was so
old school that he left very little information about himself. Every Bach biography has to make
informed guesses. The main question for Gaines concerns Frederick’s motive for
setting a supposedly impossible challenge to Bach, and who actually wrote the challenging
theme. Regardless, the facts of the case are these: Frederick sat at a
pianoforte in his palace, and played a longish, meandering, chromatic melody,
then asked Bach to improvise a three-part fugue on that theme. Gaines works
from the assumption that this was to stymie – that is, humiliate – the great
contrapuntalist and improviser. To the astonishment of all (the room was filled
with dignitaries and musicians), Bach pulled it off. Frederick then asked for a
six-part fugue; Bach demurred, saying he could not do justice to the “Royal
Theme.”
You can see the theme here, with some information about the "Offering." And a YouTube here, though for my money it is easier to hear in one of the many settings for instruments.
Two weeks after Bach’s return to Leipzig, however, he had
finished composing that six-part challenge, which we now know as the Ricercar
from the “Musical Offering.” As well as writing out the 3-part improvisation, a
four-movement sonata based on the theme, and ten canons which incorporate and
play with the insidious theme. He had them engraved, bound, and sent to
Frederick as a gift. And (I love the plausible notion which Gaines promotes)
not only a gift, but a poke in the royal eye.
Twilight in the
Palace of Reason traces the biographies of Frederick and Bach (who was
roughly the age of Frederick’s father). Does he get the biographies correct?
With Bach, it is always difficult to say. It seems to me, from what I’ve read,
that he has the main features and that he makes no more conjectures than any
other biographer. But a word of caution: I caught Gaines out on a couple of
little details, which just made me keep grains of salt nearly as I read. [About
Martin Luther, Gaines writes that while in hiding in the Wartburg Luther spent
his days “teaching himself Greek and writing his world-shifting German
translation of the New Testament.” (16) Well, I’m pretty sure that Luther
already knew his Greek very well long before he posted his 95 Theses. Maybe he was teaching himself how to
translate the Greek into German, but this unfortunate statement early in the
book served to make me cautious about the facts of the case. Exhibit A in why I
can’t use this in my bibliography!]
What Gaines does well is bring together two historical
characters who really did meet, really did exchange words, really were from
different worlds, and shaped not only their worlds but ours. It is a brilliant
example of accessibly addressing history, philosophy and art. And I have to say
that I think he really got Bach. The messages in the Musical Offering were “simply
another declaration of faith in a lifetime of such declarations . . . Bach
could not have cared whether Frederick like the Musical Offering or not, and . . . [his] indifference to Frederick’s
opinion was not stubborn or arrogant but rooted in his character too deeply
even to be considered a matter of principle.” (239) “Most importantly, [the Musical Offering] is a work of incomprehensibly
comprehensive intellectual and sensual beauty . . . a feast of inexpressibly
delicious delights.” Gaines addresses the challenge of explaining Bach’s music:
“what is greatest about Bach’s work is literally impossible to talk about, a
characteristic that perhaps more than any other distinguishes his music from
the galant.” (240) He quotes Isaiah
Berlin (from The Roots of Romanticism),
who notes that works of art that are beautiful without being profound, one can
describe and explain how and why they give pleasure: “But in the case of works
which are profound, the more I say the more remains to be said.” (240)
And that is a fair warning as I write this thesis dealing
with Bach’s music!
Within a generation of Bach’s death, and then Frederick’s,
the Enlightenment project was already being rethought in light of the
earthquake/tidal wave that destroyed Lisbonand later the French Revolution. Perhaps not surprisingly, the Romantics
pressed forward from Reason to Feeling, but also looked back, and brought “old
Bach” along with them into the modern world. Where he still challenges
listeners and performers, still intrigues with his steadfast religious and
philosophical worldview that took composition seriously. Here is a man who
believed music means something, and
whose music makes us believe that it can.
