Dry 'bones

An unexpected gift from my sabbatical: I found pleasure in playing the trombone.

People were a little concerned, puzzled, or maybe annoyed that my official sabbatical plans did not explicitly detail musical study during the six months. It was all very well, apparently, that I would be study theology formally, but what about the music? And how well I understood the concern, how deeply I felt the need to grow as a musician.

I found that my "best laid plans" in January had to be modified somewhat, if I was to be the best grad student I could be for the semester. "Dabbling" might be the kindest description of my personal music-making through the semester. So, when classes were done, papers were completed, and finals were taken, I replaced much of that academic time with musical time.

Over the second part of the sabbatical, when we were home, I kept this after-lunch routine: practice the piano, practice the trombone, play around on the recorders, and work toward some competency on the concertina. Oh, and explore - by way of improvising - the melodica, my newest musical instrument, courtesy Christmas 2010.

My piano skills have always been deplorable; barely survival level. I discouraged more than one hopeful piano teacher at Moody Bible Institute. I did, however, manage to complete a performance degree in trombone, at DePaul University, with some distinction. Those recital chops are a remote memory. And I rarely play in public anymore. But something surprising and wonderful happened during the sabbatical: I came to really enjoy the trombone.

I know I should have written, "I came to enjoy the trombone again." But honestly, I'm not sure I ever really truly did enjoy playing the trombone in college. I think I did for a while in the early 1990's when I played with a quintet in Minnesota. But I found myself looking forward to picking up the instrument, playing through old etude books, getting some range back, and increasing my stamina. By the time I came back to work, I was having to cut my practice time shorter than my stamina. What fun!

This business with the trombone has long been a niggling stewardship issue with me. I have a good horn, an excellent education, time and space to practice, and could easily find or make opportunities to play. That I failed the stewardship test was made clear over the past week. I had finagled an opportunity to play in a trombone ensemble in morning services at College Church. Time and again since then, people have remarked, "I had no idea you play trombone." Well, but I've only been here 15 years, and you'd have had to attend just the right services to catch me playing.

I have no idea how often I will be able to play in services, and I can hardly imagine creating other opportunities to play. But still, most weekdays, I am still finding time to pick up the 'bone and keep it fresh. (And yes, I am still plugging away at those deplorable piano exercises, too!) But now it is for the sheer joy of it, the simple pleasure of making music, even if no one else hears or wants to listen to it. And I know that is going to pay big dividends as I return to weekly choir rehearsals and other conducting duties.

Today, I snuck home at lunch time to get in my practice. It's good to have got beyond that "dry 'bones" spell, and to reconnect with what got me into music study, and music ministry, in the first place.

Elevated

I confess. I have a love/hate relationship with 19th century gospel hymns.

I generally appreciate and embrace their very personal, intimate language - but I cringe at the prevalent "lover" language in them. ("Jesus is my boyfriend" is not only a 20th century phenomenon.) I love the story-telling element of the gospel - but generally feel that they are weakened by their refrains. Some are actually fun to sing  - at the same time I have to admit that this feels like a guilty pleasure.

And at College Church, frankly, we just don't sing this repertoire much. A bit in our evening service, rarely in the morning. I hasten to add: this is not a decision based on my own feelings about the hymns. There has never been a time in our morning service history when gospel hymns appeared in any significant way.

But we do not ignore them. And sometimes, don't you know, the sermon, the context of the morning, the requirements of praise demand one of these hymns.

The past two Sundays have been such services. August 7 opened with that great Charles Gabriel text and tune, "I stand amazed in the presence" (My Savior's Love). Almost everything negative I said above does not apply to My Savior's Love. It has an interesting melody, the refrain works strongly after each verse, the text is intimate without being maudlin. It is really a fine, fine hymn. But (I said to myself) it is "one of those" hymns. And so it was, until organist H.E. Singley got his hands on it! Writing parts out for trumpet and horn, H.E. scored the hymn such that the tune and text were respected, but that the whole package sounded "classical." Elevated. It was a revelation, and a powerful, joyful way to begin a communion service.

On August 14, casting about for a closing hymn, I asked the morning preacher, junior high pastor Eric McKiddie, how he'd like us to go. He shot back immediately, "can we use Hallelujah! What a Savior"? (Man of sorrows, what a name) and continued, "the second verse summarizes the point of the text ("in my place condemned he stood") and besides, it's my favorite hymn." Well, that was a no-brainer then. As with My Savior's Love, text and tune are by the same hand, in this case Philip P. Bliss. The gospel is clear, intimate, complete. There is not actually a refrain, but each stanza ends the same, "Hallelujah! What a Savior!" The dangers with this hymn is that it can either be all-out rollicky gospel, or funereal. Again, we were led through the singing of this hymn at a perfect pace, thoughtfully, majestically even. (I would never have considered Man of Sorrows a majestic hymn, but there it was!). Elevated. It was a revelation, and a powerful, thoughtful way to conclude the service.

Following confession - repentance. Trust these old hymns that have staying power. Trust your musicians. Trust the congregation. Stay out of the way, and let the gospel sing in its many forms. It will be truly elevating.

Mad Respect

A kind reader sent me this link. I don't know this reader, but he obviously has a good sense of humor. And somehow he guessed that I might, too?

I provide the link to the original blog post (Gospel Coalition, Thabiti Anyabwile) in case you want some context for the video.

But if you have about 10 minutes, you can just see the video here. Do take time to watch it all the way through. There are some laugh-out-loud lines in it, and a nice surprise/touch at the end.

Enjoy!

Interesting message, interesting tune

I've been thinking a lot lately about melody, or more accurately the need for melodic craft in songs and hymns for congregational singing. Big arena, lots of potential for disaster in it, and always the risk of pitting "my opinion" against yours.

I think when it concerns me most is when I hear song after song in student settings, with good words, interesting and apt rhythms (maybe), but directionless melodies. Non-tunes, really; often repetitive phrases with no developmental structure. And hey, I'm not exactly a music theory geek; certainly not a form & structure expert.

In a conversation yesterday with a student headed off to his freshman year of collegiate music studies, I was struck with his observation that so much more could be done in youth group music, to attract students to Christ and the Church. He was talking about preparation, and he was talking about craft. One observation that came out - why do we take such an interesting message and set it to such uninteresting tunes?

This student does not plan to study "classical" music, but "commercial." He isn't, in other words, some nerdy 18-year-old Baroque fanatic (yes, I've known those), more a "show choir band" dude. But he's thinking about the same things I'd want him to consider if he were contemplating a vocation in church music.

I am (theoretically, or at least perceived) "too old" to have an impact on the youth culture in my church or the church at large. But I hope I can still get to those who think, plan, and lead young "worship musicians" and help them see that the music really does matter. If we really have something to sing about, let's make sure it's sung in a way that is worth hearing and listening to. Let's write melodies that live up to the great words we use. Let's plant songs in our students' hearts that will stand up to the challenges of their minds, hearts, and experiences. Let's out-melody the chaos around us!

Tree of Life

I've had an odd movie-going weekend.

In the first place, that it was a movie-going weekend was odd. My Karen and I might see 2 or 3 movies a year in the theater, and if more than one is in a first-run house, that is itself unusual. The 2010 Oscar list was unusual in that for the first time ever I had seen 4 of the 10 "best film" nominations. Many is the year we just don't get out this way. So, "movie-going" is not one way to describe us!

Beyond that, though, the pairing of movies was, well . . . odd. We had long made plans to see a movie with friends on Saturday. So it was surprising that Karen suggested she would be open to seeing "Tree of Life" on Friday. Now, when Karen suggests going to see a movie, that is unusual! This particular movie was on our list at son Pat's recommendation. And it was brutally hot all week. And we were losing energy to get normal things done after work. Off we went.

There is a lot to recommnend, think about, discuss, argue over, etc., with "Tree of Life." What is the film-maker's view of life? What is this 2-hour dialogue with God about? Is it, ultimately, a celebration of life and God's place in our living? Or is it "Job" without  hope?

Well, when you see it, let's talk.

What I want to mention about it here is the rich abundance of music in the score. Symphonic, choral, sacred, abstract, maybe even a little trance? (I don't know from trance music, so that may not be right.) Brahms, Respighi, Tavener, Gorecki - it is rich. And I should have heard it coming, when I caught snatches of the "Requiem" text, but they even slip in "te decet hymnus" near the end: "praise awaits you, O God, in Sion." I did not know that music, which as it turns out, is by Zbigniew Preisner . I think I need to find a recording!

At the end, I take a rather positive view of this movie. There are strong reactions to it, including a group who walked out of the showing we attended, and others who at the end announced to no one in particular, "we should have left when those people did." Me? I'll want to see it again.

So, what was our movie the next night? We wouldn't have planned this . . . it was the new/last "Harry Potter" film. OK, whatever. But now here's the oddest part of the whole experience. The composer of original music in "Tree of Life" is Alexandre Desplat. And the composer of the Harry Potter soundtrack? Who knew? Alexandre Desplat! As it turns out, as few movies as we have seen, quite a few have soundtracks by this guy. Magnifique!

Baal, hear us!

I'm spending part of my summer days reading Eugene Peterson, The Jesus Way. One of his series of "conversations in spiritual theology," the thesis in Jesus Way is that if we are to follow Jesus faithfully, we must do it his way. It is a way prepared for - anticipated by - people of faith in the Old Testament: Moses, David, Elijah, Isaiah. (I'm still working my way through Isaiah.)

I am often floored by Peterson's perspective. He has long been a reading companion for my own Jesus walk and the pastoral life. I'm resisting the impulse now to detour into a history of my engagement with these books. Today I am just highlighting one section of The Jesus Way chapter on Elijah - Elijah's contention with Baal. It is a challenging consideration of worship. The following quotes (in italics) reflect upon the dramatic difference between the gyrating histrionics of Baal's priests, and the simple, direct actions and prayer of Elijah.

In Baal worship, The transcendence of the deity is reduced to the ecstasy of manipulated emotions. (p. 109) Here at the outset I need to remind myself that the danger of idolatry is not inherent in any one style or preference for worship. The challenges of "Baalism" are as real in traditional worship as they are in the latest fad worship.

"Harlotry" is a biblical metaphor that extends its meaning into the entire theology of worship, worship that seeks fulfillment through self-expression, worship that accepts the needs and desires and passions of the worshiper as its baseline. "Harlotry" is worship that says, "I will give you satisfaction. You want religious feelings? I will give them to you. You want your needs fulfilled? I'll do it in the form most arousing to you." A divine will that sets itself in opposition to the sin-tastes and self-preoccupations of humanity is incomprehensible in Baalism and so is impatiently discarded. Baalism reduces worship to the spiritual stature of the worshiper. Its canons are that is should be interesting, relevant and exciting - that I "get something out of it." (p. 110)

 This is not to say biblical worship is non-sensory. But as rich and varied as the sensory life is, it is always defined and ordered by the word of God. Nothing is simply done for the sake of the sensory experience involved - which eliminates all propagandist and emotional manipulation. (p. 111) The "worship experience" is categorically different from "let us worship God." It is the difference between something that makes sense to an individual, and acting in response to what makes sense to God. (p. 111)

The biblical language of worship is a response to God's word in the context of the community of God's people. Worship in the biblical sources and in liturgical history is not something a person experiences, it is something we do, regardless of how we feel about it, or whether we feel anything about it at all. The experience develops out of the worship, not the other way around. Isaiah saw, heard, and felt on the day he received his prophetic call while at worship in the temple - but he didn't go there in order to have a "seraphim experience." (p. 111, author's emphasis)

Oh, for the wisdom to sift these matters in conversations about worship. Well may we be concerned to "hold" sheep in the worshiping flock, or to "attract" the flockless. Our instinct is to cater to human instincts: faster! louder! softer! slower! candles! brass! jokes! video! I think the Bible teaches us:

• that worship means to listen and obey;
• when we are together to read scripture and pray;
• to teach and to sing and make melody in our hearts to the Lord;
• to be thankful and to foster thanksgiving;
• to honor the Lord by prefering one another.

How I wish that this somehow made it obvious what song or hymn we should sing at the beginning of the morning service, and how it should be accompanied! No, we are always thrown back on decisions we have to make. But I'm thankful to Pastor Eugene Peterson for the reminder that regardless how we sort out those details, we have to beware of our Canaanite tendencies. We need to stop offering "worship experiences" and keep calling people to "worship God." And all the while (as William Willimon wrote some 20 years ago) let the Bible guide, fill, and judge our worship.

How Not to

The Gospel Coalition is sort of the go-to page for the "young, restless, Reformed" crowd. Lots to read and hear there, and much, much to admire; to learn from; to stir the heart. The assembled blogsters alone make it a site worth bookmarking. TGC wants the church and the world to know about Jesus, as clearly, as uncomplicatedly, as free of stumbling blocks, as humanly and ecclesiastically possible. So, today's post. And so, the principles so clearly articulated by author Jonathan Leeman.

Asked by a church member whether to start a church for the motorcycling crowd, Leeman provides a good, clear, I think biblical response. I hope people read it.

My only response, and my purpose for thinking about it today, is to ask the question that is sort of becoming my project - "Yes, but . . . ?" If Leeman's response is helpful for "How Not to Grow a Healthy Church," are we willing to ask: "Yes, but are we asking the same questions regarding the music in our services?" Can we resist the "drift" Leeman describes, by cultivating musical "redwoods not rosebushes"? Leeman asks:
"Which would you prefer—a bush that blooms tomorrow and wilts the next day, or the majesty that rises skyward over a generation? Take your pick." And all I'm asking is - are we asking this question about music, too? That's my project.

And lest you think this means some one thing, well, stay tuned! But it does mean something, not anything.

And, by the way, if the redwood analogy seems remote, let me recommend a book that will expand your vista: The Wild Trees.As corollary reading, peruse the Bible talk about trees. Then ask the question with me.