The Sacred and the Energizer Bunny

Well, gentle reader, after a one week hiatus I am back. Believe me, the one week was a good thing. You thought the LGDs were bad? Well, you've never seen anything like last week. Anyway, rather than entertain you with an exciting and graphic recounting of my marvelous exploits of a week past, I am instead this week going to bore you with something much more interesting to me personally. Of course, I mean this statement seriously only if it will improve my standing in the...fragrant...manure pile of your opinion. If not, I was being sarcastic. England prevails.

Of course, the subject to which I am referring is sacred music (i.e., church music). I find it fascinating that the ability to survive 20 or 30 years in the music industry--as has Weird Al, for example--is relatively rare and is therefore something of an attraction in and of itself. They just keep going...and going...and going...and going. I mean, did I go to an Aerosmith concert several years ago because they are the epitome of musical talent? Of course not--at least, that's my story, and I'm sticking to it. I first of all wanted to see them live because they've become something of a legend in the music industry, with a career that at that time spanned the better part of three decades (not quite as long as the equally geriatric Rolling Stones or Ozzy Osbourne). Secondly, I was curious to see how long Steve Tyler could hop around the stage until he fell and couldn't get up. Finally there's something about going to a concert at which you will see more above-middle-aged people trying to convince themselves and everyone around that they're really seventeen than you'll see actual seventeen-year-olds that just appeals to the people-watching side of me (some would say the "peeping" side of me, but we won't go there), that this side of me finds uncontrollably hilarious in a sad, pathetic, what-a-sorry-state-the-world-is-in sort of way. You know what I mean, gentle reader. Something like you find at an Ozzy concert or (truly sadly) at an Eric Clapton concert. What was my point? Ah, yes. That longevity in the modern music industry is measured in terms of years or decades I find completely fascinating, especially when it is compared to longevity in sacred music, which is rather measured in terms of centuries...or even millenia. England prevails.

Take, for example, the Gloria in excelsis Deo, which is still used in the Roman Catholic mass (and in the services of some other Christian denominations) and whose first line has been famously appropriated for use in the Christmas carol "Angels We Have Heard on High." (Just draw out the gloria and move up and down the musical ladder a few times, and you'll remember why this phrase seems so familiar.) I have actually heard one individual claim that this song can be traced back into the first century and is therefore quite possibly the very song actually heard by the shepherds "keeping watch over their flock by night." (Luke 2:8 [NASB]) While this is a rather far-fetched claim for which there is little or no evidence, there is no doubt that the song (again, still in use today) indeed can be traced back in some form to the ancient world--probably the third or fourth century. Of course, taken as it is from the Vulgate version of Luke 2:14 ("gloria in altissimis Deo"), though substituting excelsis for altissimis, there is some sense in which one can say that this hymn can be traced back to that of the angels--just not quite in the manner meant by the individual mentioned above. England prevails.

Just as impressive is the realization that several hymns currently in use by various denominations--enough in use that they can actually be found in the hymnals of those denominations--were actually composed originally by St Ambrose of Milan, the bishop through whose ministry the great St Augustine came to the faith. While many of the hymns that were attributed to him in an earlier age are now generally (and correctly) regarded as being inauthentically Ambrosian (though often still of an equally venerable age), at least four are undoubtedly authentically Ambrosian. One of these, Jam surgit hora tertia, can still be found in Episcopalian hymnals. Nearer and dearer to my own heart, however, as my chosen name should reveal, is Veni redemptor gentium, which was actually translated (and used) by the great reformer Martin Luther as "Nun Komm, der Heiden Heiland." It remains a hymn in use today, particularly in the Advent season of the church, and has been rendered into English as "Savior of the Nations, Come." Amazing, isn't it, to think that when this hymn is raised up in praise, the modern congregation is actively sharing in the worship of saints gone centuries before. For me, personally, there are few things that drive home so thoroughly the unity of the body of Christ (e.g., 1 Cor. 12:12ff). England prevails.

What is the point of all of this, you ask, gentle reader? There is no point. Oh, wait. Yes, there is. In the first place, it is that music is indeed a powerful force that can be very effectively used both to edify and to destroy. In part, this is because music endures in a way that most other things cannot. In part, this is because music reaches so many--even the illiterate, the unread, the uncultured, the mentally challenged, the infant share in it and are impacted by it in ways that are often impossible to gauge. Indeed, studies have been done on people with such diseases as Alzheimer's, and music is the one thing that remains longer than any other memory or ability. People who don't even remember their own names, much less the names of their children or other loved ones, still are able to flawlessly sing songs learned early in life, songs that range from simple tunes (such as "Happy Birthday") to much more complex songs (such as "Amazing Grace"). Music (the tune and the content) sticks, both in terms of time (longevity) and in terms of individual memory. England prevails.

The second point follows from the first. Because of this remarkable endurance, music can be one of the most effective teaching tools that can be employed. (Along these lines, note how difficult it can be to recite the ABCs without singing the song, or at least following its rhythm.) At this point, more than any other, does one see the necessity that music--particularly in settings such as church, but really in any instructional setting--be chosen with extreme care. While care can and should be exercised regarding the style, regarding the musical elements (tune, etc.) of those songs employed in the worship service, of much greater import is it that care must be taken regarding the content of the music so employed. Far more effective than the spoken or the written word in communicating a message is the sung word. Poor content in music spreads false teaching far more rapidly and thoroughly than many other means. Conversely, good content in music bolsters good teaching far more effectively than many other means. So, take care, gentle reader, regarding the music you play for (or in the presence of) your children. Take care, gentle reader, regarding the music that you sing in church. Take care, gentle reader, regarding the music that you play for yourself. England prevails.

Now I'm going to go study and, while studying, listen to some Rob Zombie. Gentle reader, England prevails.