Psalm 147;
September 14, 2008
Colossians 3:12-18
Patrick Preheim
shaped notes and notes that shape
Patty and I received sad and yet interesting news earlier this week. Her grandmother’s health has been declining for a number of weeks and her situation has reached the point where she struggles to identify her own children when they come to visit. Even though she is does not recognize her own children, she is still able to sing hymns by memory. She learned to sing with shaped notes and it seems that the music is now giving shape to her final years. The kids have responded with pragmatism and faith. Bemoaning their mother’s condition doesn’t change it, so they pull out the hymn books and ask if she wants to sing. And grandma sings with the group of strangers otherwise known as her children and grandchildren.
The writer of Colossians instructs us to “sing psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs to God”. Outside of a few familiar Psalms (like Psalm 23) I actually think we do better reciting a Psalm in song than in prose. Here is an example. Parts of Psalm 104 have been read responsively by the congregation twice in the last six months (July 27 and May 11). When I started working on this sermon I could not come up with more than a verses or two from Psalm 104. There is a hymn, however, that puts much of the text from Psalm 104 into music. The hymn is “I sing the mighty power of God”, #46 HWB. We have also sung this hymn twice in the last six months (July 13 and May 18). Unlike my failure in reciting verses of Psalm 104, I had no trouble remembering the text of Psalm 104 when put to music. I am guessing the same is true for you. I will not call on individuals to recite Psalm 104; I assume that most of you are like me and could not come up with a verse. I want, however, to do a call and response with you with the hymn. I will line out a phrase of Psalm 104 as composed by hymn writer Isaac Watts and you complete the phrase. See if you can do this without looking at HWB #46, but if you need to look fine. “I sing the mighty power of God [that made the mountains rise]; that spread the flowing seas abroad [and built the lofty skies]. I sing the wisdom that ordained [the sun to rule the day]; the moon shines full at God’s command [and all the stars obey]. Now here is the really interesting thing. I am guessing that most of you had the following tune go through your head as you were reciting these parts Psalm 104. [hum brief portion of melody line of “I sing the mighty power of God”]. (idea for this comes from Robin Leaver: Robin Leaver, “The Hymnbook as a Book of Practical Theology” Reformed Liturgy and Music, spring 1990.) Robin Leaver writes, “Melodic phrases stick in the mind and become mnemonics by which specific words are called back into our consciousness” (ibid, 55). When I experience the grandeur of nature I do not recite the stanzas of Psalm 104. Rather, “I sing the mighty power of God”.
I have no illusions that people will remember the exact prose of scripture or even my sermons. David Cole wrote, “Hymns are certainly more memorable than sermons” (David Cole, “Hymns and Meaning” in St. Mark’s Review; autumn, 1991; p. 14). And I agree with him. During Lent last spring I gave what I thought were a couple of noteworthy sermons- monologues in the characters of Lazarus and Nicodemus from John’s gospel. While you probably remember the overall sentiment of those reflections I can be fairly certain that only handful of us, at the most, can remember any of the text. But the hymns we sing, we remember them. Marilyn Houser Hamm puts it this way: “Words of biblical truth and understanding find their home in our hearts and minds if they are given rhyme, meter, and melody. The durable music of the church can bear repetition, and what we repeat we learn by heart and internalize. And what we rehearse—week by week, year by year defines our identity and shapes our faith” (Singing our Salvation, Marilyn Houser Hamm). Sermons help God form our character, but it is often a hymn text and tune which nurture us mid-week. It is vital to sing the old favourite hymns week by week, because they strike an internal chord. It is vital to learn new music, for these songs are additional widows through which God’s grace pours in. It is vital that we teach our children to sing, because music is central to our faith.
I want to briefly outline several ways in which music acts as spiritual formation (taken from lectures by Marlene Kroft and Kenneth Nafziger at Associated Mennonite Biblical Seminary; the content also appears in their book, Singing: A Mennonite Voice, p.111ff). Hymns shape our language of and to God. I will give two illustrations of the way in which images of God found in hymns become functional in real life. Media outlets this past week covered ad nausium the anniversary events surrounding the September 11, 2001 terrorist attacks in the New York. Attendance in churches soared the Sunday after that grizzly event. People came to religious centers to find solace and meaning. Perhaps the most sung hymn that day was “O God, our help in ages past” (#328 HWB). In the circumstance of explosions, destruction and death the church gave hope through the singing of, “O God, our help in ages past, our hope for years to come, our shelter from the stormy blast, and our eternal home; under the shadow of thy throne thy saints have dwelt secure...Time, like an ever rolling stream soon bears us all away. We fly forgotten, as a dream dies at the op’n-ing day”. The song is as much a prayer to God as it is a song about God. My second illustration is a song I learned from my camper and camp staff days- “Our God is an awesome God”. I think it has a catchy tune, but dreadful lyrics. Here is the text: “When He rolls up His sleeves He ain't just putting on the ritz / Our God is an awesome God! / There is thunder in His footsteps and lightning in His fists / Our God is an awesome God!/ The Lord wasn't joking when He kicked 'em out of Eden. It wasn't for no reason that He shed His blood/ His return is very close and so you better be believing that Our God is an awesome God!” (Words and Music by Rich Mullins). It seems to me this punitive image of God has more to do with scaring people into the kingdom than it does with inviting people into new life. As G. Kenneth Cooper wrote, “Bad theology set to good music is unacceptable, good theology set to bad music is inexcusable, and bad theology set to bad music is intolerable” (G. Kenneth Cooper, “Time to Renew Congregational Singing” Reformed Liturgy and Music, spring 1990; p. 100). For these reasons it is good to have a music minister guiding us as we give shape to our theology through song.
Even as music connects us to God, music also connects us to each other. If we value community, we will value singing. Singing forms community in at least two ways.
- First, when we sing together we are physically moving together. Singing is the most physical component of our worship services at Nutana. We don’t genuflect. We don’t give the holy kiss as the Apostle Paul instructed (2nd Cor 13:12 for example). We don’t lift our hands as an evening sacrifice as the Psalmist suggested (Psalm 141). Singing is our action and it is collective action. It is like we are working on a joint project. Our voices are blended vibrations which create something more beautiful than what we could do alone—even our unison songs blend the colour of our voices. And in song we breathe together. Have ever noticed that we breathe together during congregational singing? Pay attention to our hymn of response and you will notice that most of us breathe at the same time. Singing fosters “interdependence and interconnectedness” (Kropf and Nafzigger, 122). From this perspective it is no wonder that in a Colossians letter centered on a congregation getting along Paul instructs them to sing together. When we breathe together, create music together, act together we stand a better chance of getting along. Karl Barth said that “The community that does not sing together is not a community” (Ibid, 121).
- A second way in which hymns create community is through the communal memory they impart. Simply put, communities sing certain songs at certain times. I have, for example, observed particular hymns appearing more often than others in the funeral services. Among others, this list includes: “wehrlos und verlassen”, “take then my hand of Father”, “Children of the Heavenly Father”, and “How Great Thou Art”. The meaning of these hymns extend beyond the meaning of the text. We sing them because the particular text and tune connect us to other family funerals and to others of the community. These are shared hymns at the time of grieving. The same is true of positive transitions. In their book Up From the Rubble, Peter and Elfrieda Dyck recount two instances where Mennonite refugees from the Soviet Union break into song when God seemingly opened a way for them. The accounts are deeply moving and I found myself nearly crying as I read about these ragged Mennonite immigrants bursting into song, “now thank we all our God”. Why would I be near tears? Even though we are different migrations of Mennonites their story is my story. I know this music. I too was raised on this text and tune. I understand their circumstances and, as strange as it sounds, I even understand why they chose this hymn
Music does more than just connect us to God, it connects us to one to another, music also inspires us as we connect with the world. Music aides us in community action. One aspect of community action is simply surviving the individual struggles we face during the week. Marlene is a person who was interviewed for the Kropf and Nafziger book. She shares her story. “As a young adult, I once found myself unexpectedly in a hospital emergency room. Full of fear as I lay on a table in an examining room, I desperately tried to remember a scripture I could repeat to myself that would bring calm. Nothing came. Though I searched every corner of my mind, I couldn’t remember a single text I had ever learned. After a few minutes, a hymn began singing itself inside me: “O God, our help in ages past, our hope for years to come, our shelter from the stormy blast, and our eternal home. I sang the song over and over again until peace returned...I realized that in moments of panic one does not necessarily have access to information stored in the left brain; fear can stop those circuits from functioning. What I did have access to was something embedded more deeply still in my blood and bones—a song I sung over and over again in worship.” (Singing, 114) A person need not be in an emergency room to feel the pressures of life bearing down. It is amazing how a hymn, a camp chorus, Bach or other religious music can provide strength in hard circumstances.
Music also steels us for collective action. The role of song in bolstering African Americans in the pursuit of civil rights or the role of music as black South Africans struggled against apartheid is well documented. There is power in a group of oppressed people gathering together at a funeral and singing a song of hope. This past Friday marked the 31st anniversary of Stephen Biko’s murder in a South African jail. Biko was a black South African who worked tirelessly against the sin of apartheid. It was custom for the people to gather and sing at the funerals of those slain in the struggle. The beginning and end of a Peter Gabriel song about Biko were based on traditional South African funeral music (www.songfacts.com/detail on Peter Gabriel’s song Biko). Listen to a short 30 second clip of the song. At this summer’s Mennonite Church conference in Winnipeg Marilyn Houser Hamm said that it was the music of South Africa, more than anything, which enabled God to sustain the people in their long and hard struggle.
And this South African funeral music takes me back to my grandma Fern. Music is something we will be able to share with each other at the time of life when we do not recognize one another. I may end up visiting some of you in the hospital, or some of you may end up visiting me in the hospital. On account of a stroke, dementia, an accident, or some other tragedy we may not recognize one another. I am hopeful that in those moments the attention we give to music in our congregational life will provide a deeper language for us to affirm that we are part of God’s family and the family of faith. Until that time music will empower us to grapple collectively with the powers and principalities of this world. Music will strengthen us for the personal battles we have. Music will bind us together as a community. And music will continue to give us a language for and to God. Amen.
“Hymns are certainly more memorable than sermons” (14)
“The experience of singing unifies a congregation in a deep and unique way” (14)
David Cole, “Hymns and Meaning” in St. Mark’s Review; autumn, 1991.
“A hymn might retain popularity despite questionable theology in the text
because the meaning of the hymn extends well beyond the meaning of the text”
(17) David Cole, “Hymns and Meaning” in St. Mark’s Review; autumn, 1991.
. “A hymn might retain popularity despite questionable theology in the text
because the meaning of the hymn extends well beyond the meaning of the text”
(David Cole, “hymns and Meaning” in St. Mark’s Review; autumn, 1991, p. 17)