I was sitting in a fellowship group some years ago. We took turns at leading it. On one occasion a member of the group chose some music. I’d not heard it before – Saint Saens 3rd Symphony, the Organ Symphony. I closed my eyes and found myself transported by the music to, what I can only describe as, a spiritual plane. In my mind I was somewhere other than the simple room in which we were sitting. And for me, this was worship.
At the centre of worship is the expectation of meeting with God, that which is other than ourselves. It is incomprehensible that such a meeting should leave us untouched. Years later I used this same music with images of nebulae from the Hubble Telescope to imagine and reflect on creation. My intention was to engender something transcendent and, for me, that is the essence of worship. Every act of worship should be predicated on that possibility, the expectation, of just such an encounter.
But what music should I choose? Just what music is sacred?
On another occasion, in another place, I wanted to introduce the topic of spirituality in music. As the group were assembling I played a piece by Giacinto FrancescoMaria Scelsi. He was Italian and best known for composing music based around only one pitch as in his Quattro pezzi su una nota sola (‘Four Pieces on a single note’, 1959, you can find it on YouTube). To me it seemed discordant. A person walked in and simply exclaimed, ’what beautiful music’! Not all music has the effect that you expect!
I was asked on one occasion which Rolling Stones’ track could be used for someone’s father’s funeral. My response, partly facetiously, was ‘anything but Sympathy for the Devil’. They had asked because the music of the Stones linked them immutably with ‘Dad’. For them, for this moment, it was right, appropriate, religious to my mind. But we are conservative and held captive to tradition.
A few weeks ago the person leading worship in our local Methodist Church chose to use: Richard Bewes, hymn based on Psalm 46[1] ‘God is our strength and refuge’. This is set to THE DAMBUSTERS’ MARCH. For many the tune will make us think of Lancaster Bombers breaking dams with bouncing bombs in the Ruhr in the Second World War. For some that precludes the use of this tune.
But should it? Just what music is sacred? Albert Blackwell in The Sacred in Music[2]suggests that no music is inherently religious, or secular. Our feelings in relation to music come, not from the music itself, but from the things which we associate with it, images linked to it, the occasion when we heard it, the words sung to it. So the music of a hymn, as much as the words, can produce feelings which are positive or negative.
It appears that, for the most part, the editors of the Methodist Hymn Book (1933) were conservative rather than innovative. Following the Great War there was a great need to regain the equilibrium that had been lost. There is comfort to be found in those things that are familiar and safe. Edwardian and Victorian music predominated, rather than the contemporary music of the 1930s. While that is understandable it is also a block to progress in the field of hymnody, textually and musically. Anyone who has tried to use Erik Routely’s ABINGDON to ‘And can it be’, for which it was written, rather than SAGINA, which is too triumphant for the meditative open lines, will have felt that resistance.
Past experience and present context will enable one person to gain a sense of the ‘other’ from music that will leave a different person cold. What works for one may be intensely unhelpful for another. Different learning styles, traditions and expectations frame our ability to participate, or prevent such participation. How often do we take this into account when we lead, or curate worship, when we choose music? Perhaps we should think on that when we select our hymns, or the music, recorded or otherwise, used in worship. And even silent prayer is, perhaps sometimes better left silent, than accompanied by music which may bring to mind unhelpful associations, or which may jar; veiling that religious atmosphere which it is our task to engender.
Is it sometimes right that we simply hear God’s still, small voice?
Rev Dr Andrew Pratt – originally published in the Methodist Recorder for ArtServe
[1] Richard Bewes (1934-2019) based on Psalm 46m © Jubilate Hymns
[2] Blackwell, A., The Sacred in Music (1999) Lutterworth Press.
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