Dissidence in Music

I hit a nerve last week among readers that I have traditionally considered to be “on my side.” As you may recall, I suggested that conscientious abstainers from singing in church should consider not only verses like Romans 14:23 (abstaining from what is “not of faith”) but also verses like Ephesians 5:19 (fulfilling one’s covenantal obligation in the church to “speak to one another in songs”). It’s a thorny issue in which Christian obligations seem to conflict, and I resonate with those who find themselves in this difficult scenario. I’ve been there.

I haven’t gotten much hate mail in my sheltered ministerial career, but this particular post won me the honor. One email from another blogger informed me my arguments were the pitiful, ridiculous, and debased quackery of a religious kook, full of concocted piety, willful ignorance, and high-handed humbug that tries to impose my poor taste in music on the more culturally refined. Wow. All because I have weighed my personal objections against my ecclesiastical obligations, and have concluded that "not singing" may not the best way of approaching this problem.

Apparently I am a traitor to the cause.

So let’s put this all out on the table again, laying aside the food analogy that some readers found distracting. The scenario is this: you come to the conclusion that your church is singing songs set to tunes that are inappropriate to the text or that detract, in your studied opinion, from the majesty of the God they purport to exalt. It's not just that you don't like the tunes--you are convinced that they are aberrant. What do you do?

1.     You could become a dissident and not sing, risking violation of Ephesians 5:19 and Colossians 3:16.

2.     You could sing anyway, risking violation of Romans 14:23, enter into dialogue with your Christian brothers, and do whatever part you can to offer positive solutions to the problem as you see it.

3.     You could abandon the assembly, trusting that you will be able to find another assembly that is in agreement with your musical convictions.

Having seen this kind of situation from both sides, I confess enormous sympathy both for those in the pastorate and for those in the pew. These are real and serious situations that all parties wish could simply go away. Ideally, one party or the other will simply adjust his convictions so that harmony may be restored. But such adjustments are rarely so simple, because both sides are convinced, based on their respective understandings of Scripture and its implications, that the advance of Christ's purposes for the church would be better accomplished by the other guy changing his convictions.

In the end, I don’t have all the answers. Not by a long shot. But I am convinced that the scenario of individual church members becoming musical dissidents is not the answer. In fact, of the three options I listed (and I welcome other options) I would argue that this is the least viable solution of all.

MAS

Zondervan Marketing Triumph

I don't normally judge a book by its cover, but Zondervan makes this choice an obvious one:

So...Are YOU an Evangelical?

I suppose I should have seen it coming, but it caught me by surprise. I mentioned to a couple of the fellows in my Evangelical Theology class that I was reading the recently released book Four Views on the Spectrum of Evangelicalism. I expected them to respond by asking a probing, analytical question like, "Do you think that Kevin Bauder portrays the Fundamentalist option vis-à-vis the Confessional option with sufficient clarity to successfully salvage the label?" I was ready for that one. But that wasn't the question. The question was simpler:

"So...Are YOU an Evangelical?"

I found myself deploying evasive measures, kind of like when I'm asked, "Are you a fundamentalist?" It depends, I suppose, on what you mean. I'm not a Jack Hyles fundamentalist. And I'm certainly not a Terry McVeigh fundamentalist. Likewise I'm not a Roger Olsen evangelical. Nor do I identify with Karl Barth's self-denominated "evangelical" theology. I prefer terms that are less vulnerable to equivocation.

•       If you asked me about my religion, I'd say that I am a Christian: I hold to the absolute lordship of the Christian God as authoritatively mediated through the Christian Scriptures.

•       If you asked me with whom I am covenantally bound by mutual confession and with whom I will share the Table in mutual fellowship, I'd say I belong to a Baptist Church.

But evangelical? What exactly does that word add to what I've just said? Even if, for sake of argument, we could excise the aberrations that have multiplied under the evangelical umbrella, does the label now have any practical value? If the question is whether I ascribe to the minimalist creed of biblical inerrancy, justification by faith alone in Christ alone, and the reality of new birth that issues forth in Christian activity, then yes, I'm that kind of evangelical. Which is kind of like repeating my affirmation that "I am a Christian," except that now I have added the vital caveat, "and I really, really mean it."

But the word evangelical usually involves connotative meanings additional to this. Too often it goes something like this: "I adhere to the idea that the Gospel can be preserved in isolation from the rest of Christian orthodoxy, without any necessary reference to the Christian Church, primarily through transdenominational venues that rally around mere Christianity."   

I'm not aboard that cruise line, because I'm not exactly sure where it's docking next. But I'll be in church on Sunday. Hmmm. A churchman. Now there's a useful label. 


MAS

On Singing in Church, Or, Why My Wife Is Justified in Occasionally Feeding Me Unhealthy Food

My wife Heather is a superb cook. Her ability to blend economy, nutrition, and taste is the stuff of legends. But sometimes the family rebels. Sometimes we want taste above all else, and we will happily jettison economy and nutrition to get it. And my dear and faithful wife obliges us. Every Sunday, she makes us hamburgers—big ones with white bread hamburger buns covered with mayonnaise, topped with cheese, ketchup and a thick slice of onion. On the side we have French fries. Other than the onion slice, there are no vegetables served at this meal.

If she were single, Heather would never do this. To begin with, she doesn’t like the taste of white bread or onions. But more than this, she inwardly cringes at the unhealthy abundance of red meat, the lack of fruits and vegetables, and especially the mayonnaise, which from the standpoint of nutrition is a horrible substance in every way.

So what has this to do with theology? Well, the other day I was reading an intriguing essay by my esteemed friend Kevin Bauder. In it, he argues that there are two features of a hymn/song that will result in him refraining from singing in the Church—bad theology and an unsuitable tune. The emphasis was on the latter. I read it with a curious blend of agreement and hesitation.

I agree with the concern that church music be marked by suitable tunes. In fact, I would say that I agree strongly. I agree extremely strongly. I sympathize with those who are asked weekly to sing texts that should inspire awe but are set to tunes that are “awesome.” Or asked to participate in the use of musical devices that have no function other than to mimic a popular style or simply to sound “cool.” It’s not just that these things are matters of taste. They are matters that touch on the health of the Church.

So what is my hesitation? Well, this is where my wife and the hamburgers come in. She cooks me something that is not only outside the confines of her personal taste, but also something that she strongly feels is unhealthy. But she does it because she has a covenant relationship that trumps these concerns. In just the same way every believer has a covenant relationship with the church that is necessarily forwarded by the corporate singing of songs for mutual edification. 

Are there limits to this? Sure. If I insist that my wife buy her meat at the idol’s temple, she should decline. And if I insist that we have hamburgers every night, she has every right to question my request or to eat something other than the rest of us eat. I get that. And at some point, issues of music style can, in my opinion, sharply strain or even sever a member’s relationship to his church.

That being said, however, the impulse to “not sing” should be weighed very heavily against other obligations of church members and especially of church leaders. Deciding "not to sing" is a serious decision indeed.

MAS

The Resurrection Centered Life?

I know very little about Nicholas Batzig. I would know nothing were it not for the fact that Darryl Hart recently took Batzig to task for the latter's insightful blog post entitled "The Secret of Sanctification." Batzig's argument, in brief, is that the common exhortation to preach the cross for "power and pardon" is not completely accurate advice. The cross brings pardon, yes, but not power for godly living.This kind of power instead comes more properly through union with Christ in his resurrection (so Rom 6:1-14). I think Batzig is spot on in his critique.

Darryl Hart disagrees. He disagrees because union with Christ in the power of his resurrection does not give the believer absolute power over indwelling sin. The believer united with Christ in the power of his resurrection still sins, and asks with Paul, "Who shall deliver me from this body of sin?" Hart finds little solace for the sinning believer in recalling his union with Christ, but great solace in his justification. Hart summarizes, "I find much more comfort in the face of guilt to know that I no longer face condemnation."

Hart is right in one sense--of course there is comfort for the sinning believer in the grateful realization that he will no longer face condemnation. But that's not the question. The question is whether there is any power in justification. Justification is a forensic concept, not an experiential one. It changes my status but does not change me. By it I am declared righteous, not made righteous. Justification surely encourages me to to be holy, but it does not to empower me to be holy.

By being united with Christ in the power of his resurrection, on the other hand, the believer is regenerated and made a new creation capable of pleasing God. He has, in the Spirit-indwelt new man, the power to please God. Granted, the persistent remnants of sin are such that this is not an absolute power (the error of perfectionism). but it is a true and real empowerment to holiness nonetheless.

I really have no interest in coming up with a new "center." We have enough of these already: God-centered, Christ-centered, cross-centered, Bible-centered, etc. The title of my post is an irony. But I think Batzig is on to something. The Christian life is empowered not so much by the justification Christ secured for us on the cross, but by the union of regeneration that Christ secured for us in his resurrection. We live, in that sense, a resurrection-centered Christian life.

MAS

On Penn State Football and the Use of Thee and Thou in Contemporary Hymnody

Perhaps I am alone in thinking this, but I find the heavy use of the word "you" in contemporary hymnody distracting at times. From time to time I have pondered this response of mine and have been less than satisfied with my reflections.

• Is it the sheer abundance of the word "you" that distracts me? Perhaps. After all, when we use old English, we split the usage between "thou," "thee," "you," and "ye," whereas in contemporary English we use "you," "you," "you," and "you." OK, if that's my problem, I need to get used to it. But I'm not sure that's it, because switching from the KJV to the NIV did not spawn this reaction in me--just the music.
• Is it the susceptibility of the "oooo" sound to crooning that distracts me? Well, I'll admit that I am bothered by people crooning about God. But I'm not sure that's the sum total of my distraction.  

Then yesterday I was blissfully ramping up for a new college football season, and decided to download a bit of Penn State Nittany Lions Blue Band music onto my iPod to get into the right mood. I know the tunes very well, but don't know the words (I know the "roar, lions, roar" part, but most of the rest is a bit muddled). So I decided to follow links to the lyrics of four of the most popular songs. And I found something very interesting. Three of the four songs (all, I think, of 20th century vintage) were written with "thees" and "thous." This usage was especially prevalent in the "Penn State Alma Mater," a nostalgic piece reminiscing about the author's college days. 

And so I set to thinking again about why use of such language "feels" right in some contemporary songs...even in secular tunes over which the King James Bible has absolutely no sway. And I was reminded of a book that I read a few years ago, Who Needs Classical Music: Cultural Choice and Musical Value, by Julian Johnson. One of the author's major premises is that, historically speaking, the two biggest reasons for music have been to (1) create distance and (2) foster reflection. That is clearly the effect of the use of archaic language in the "Penn State Alma Mater," and it it also a practical effect of such language in hymns as well. God does not, of course, explain why he wants the church to sing to each other, but this is at least as plausible an explanation as any other I've heard.

Could this explain my unease with the use of "you" in contemporary hymnody? Well it at least fits. I have long been used to hymns that create distance and foster reflection--not the distance of nostalgia (at least not primarily), but the distance of reverence, awe, dignity, and transcendence--sentiments that dominate many old hymns. 

This is not a diatribe against new music. I am well aware that music has a horizontal dimension, and contemporary forms can communicate this dimension more effectively, at times, than older forms. I am suggesting, though, that the distance/reflection factor is something that contemporary forms do not tend to communicate well, and we do well to keep classic hymnody around for this purpose. I for one plan to listen to my latest  John Rutter download regularly. More, regularly, even, than my new Penn State Blue Band music.