Practices for Mission: Part Eight - Singing our Faith

Earlier this year I wrote a series of posts about practices Jesus gave his disciples for opening themselves to his presence. I used the framework of a book by David Fitch, a theological teacher and one of the pastoral team at Life on the Vine church in Chicago. This article is a follow-up.

“Presence,” says David Fitch, “is the way God works.”  We as God’s people are called to “be present to his presence”, by which Fitch means to discern it and cooperate with it. In this way we live out the restored relationship between God and his beloved people. We make way for the king, and for his kingdom. Because God is faithfully present in our lives, our response is to be faithfully present to him in the world. Fitch’s goal in the book is to train Christians to recognise and participate in Jesus’ presence, that presence promised in Matthew 28: 20 when Jesus said "Lo, I am with you, always.”

At first I was surprised that worship – particularly sung worship - did not get a chapter. However Fitch has chosen dominical practices, ones that Jesus explicitly told his followers to imitate in continuing his mission in the world. Since I finished the series of seven posts, I have considered this again and again, and come to the view that it is in fact a major omission. This eighth post – a rather long one - is how Fitch might have written about worship, especially sung worship, had he included it in his book. Jesus may not have specifically told his followers to worship, but that is because he took it for granted that they would. Musicality is deeply engrained in the Jewish tradition, and that Jesus sang psalms and hymns is a given in the New Testament. So where to start?

Human beings have always sung - at play and at work, on festive and solemn occasions, in joy and in grief. Around campfires and in opera houses, in school halls and playgrounds, and through churches and synagogues, the act of singing has expressed human feelings and a sense of being alive in the world. “Voices are the instrument of the soul” says Methodist theologian Don Saliers in an article called “Singing our Lives” – “and words become empowered when they are sung.” Small children love to sing and often make up their own songs. Music helps us memorise the US presidents or the English counties; my granddaughter even uses a song to prompt her extensive knowledge of the periodic table. 

Music builds powerful associations between common memories and emotions like love, patriotism, gratitude and hope; think of Go Down Moses, The White Cliffs of Dover, and even the much-maligned Kumbaya. Each culture sings about the world it experiences, and often develops its own distinctive music. Sharing a song then becomes a cultural exchange. There are songs that are deeply rooted in work, like military cadences, seamen’s shanties, and farmers’ songs for planting and harvesting. Others are integral to cultural practices, like the waiata used in Maori hospitality here in New Zealand. Singing is, in a way, an act of freedom; no wonder tyrants down the centuries have tried to control our thinking by promoting some songs and banning others. 

“Whatever people can say with passion they will end up singing” ((Saliers D. In Practicing our Faith, 1997, p 182). Music gives shape to the patterns of our human experience, and through pitch, rhythm, harmony and intensity, the tensions, convictions, moods and mischief of everyday life are expressed in sound. No wonder singing together binds hearts and minds in a way that goes beyond mere information. 

In the Bible, worship songs are used to glorify God and honour his presence in human lives. Jewish rituals in both temple and synagogue included singing and chants, led by instruments and cantors. Amos and Isaiah record Jewish festivals that included music and dance, and the return of a victorious army or the coronation of a Hebrew king were naturally accompanied by songs. David’s musical talents included both instruments and songs and his psalms are still being used millennia later. So its not surprising we are told that Jesus himself sang a hymn as he led his disciples out the night before he died; scholars agree it would have been one of the Hallel psalms sung at Passover. His mother had burst into song when she felt him in the womb, and angels had sung of his birth. Each of these songs were passed down to became part of first century Christian worship. Paul’s letters are full of doxologies, hymn fragments and references to singing in the gathered meetings; in Colossians 3 he affirms singing along with teaching and admonition. 

In the early church, there was a time when instruments were prohibited, due to the association with pagan ritual prostitution. But unaccompanied singing in unison was there from the start, often led by a cantor in the Jewish way. By the fourth century, we know that “apart from when the scriptures being read, the sermon preached, or the bishop is praying aloud …there is no time when the faithful are not singing.” (St Augustine) Mediaeval monastic communities and later Cathedral Choirs developed elaborate polyphonies that tended to exclude the congregation, but the Reformation brought in a revival of singing for everyone. 

Luther had a high view of music, saying that next to the Word of God, it is greatest treasure in the world. At every opportunity Luther and his colleagues aimed to get the whole congregation involved, teaching them of the need to sing Scripture, and giving them the texts and melodies to sing. Truth on its own wasn’t enough; Luther knew that a good hymn conveys truth in a compelling and invigorating way.  Calvin too was keen on congregational singing, though he restricted what was to be sung to the metrical Psalms.

Singing as a spiritual practice thus spans two millennia but it still needs to be taught and nurtured. Twice-daily sung worship was part of Luther’s recipe for “making Christians”. How do we learn to sing? Mostly by rote, from childhood, and memorisation still helps us know a song. But later many of us learned by note, enabling music to be shared and expanded. Recording technologies have ramped it up a notch, so today we may share an .mp3 rather than a musical score.  We often have a band rather than an organ. Most congregations in New Zealand have forgone hymn books or printed sheets, in favour of data projection. Tunes now have to be much more singable at first hearing, since even the worship team may not be able to read music. Over time, our hymns and songs develop deep meaning and bodily associations. That why music is such a contentious issue for many churches. Creative tensions and a consumer mentality also feed into the “worship wars” that dog many congregations. 

Of course the Bible is not the only place where singing is advocated. Clinical evidence shows that involvement in music has beneficial effects on a person’s well-being. Music therapists for example use various types of music to influence a person’s heart rate, blood pressure, respiration, muscle activity, biochemical reactions and motor responses in the body. As hearts beat, lungs expand, we move in rhythm with stamping and clapping. The energy is catchy, and it builds community. A number of writers note that in North America, singing in church is one of the few places where words and music form people in a communal identity. They reckon public singing has shrunk down to Happy Birthday and Auld Lang Syne. Thankfully in NZ and the Pacific, most people still participate in occasional songs (waiata), perhaps because of music’s capacity to build connections. Congregational singing is inherently collective, and helps the community form and express faith. Music then lends its power to other practices – baptism, communion, weddings, funerals – as songs give testimony to our beliefs, and build community. Worshipping together helps shape a shared identity that flows out of an ancient story, but continues to be interpreted in the words and tunes of today. However Mark Pierson in Curating Worship says worship leaders today must work hard to avoid jargon, shallow theology, sexist language, and archaisms, especially considering not many Christian song-writers use images relevant to our lived experience. 

Saliers’ above-mentioned article says singing is “not just about the words, important as they are.” It is a complex interaction of attitudes, affections, aspirations, even worldview. Gratitude, trust, sadness, joy and hope are integrated and embodied in our songs. He cites John Wesley – “hymns are a body of practical divinity” and adds “where people sing of God, an embodied theology – a way of living and thinking about life in God – is formed and expressed.” (Saliers p 193). The widespread absence today of formal creeds makes it all the more important that the music and lyrics actually express faith – and doubt - in ways that can be recognized and affirmed by the participants. 

Let the message about Christ, in all its richness, fill your lives. 

Teach and counsel each other with all the wisdom he gives. 

Sing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs to God with thankful hearts.

At our church recently I heard a sermon that convincingly interpreted Colossians 3: 16 to mean that sung worship is one of the pathways to “teaching and admonishing”. Paul wants his congregations to talk about faith, to share, discuss and debate scripture. Songs can help with this, and enable the gospel become deeply rooted. Preacher Jon explained this as a “thick practice”, one with multiple players of meaning that shape our beliefs and identity, as compared with a “thin” practice like brushing our teeth.

The words we sing in church do have multiple meanings that shape our faith and identity, testifying to what we believe about God and how we live out our convictions. That means we need to be fussy about the words. "Don’t be fake", said Jon, and "don’t sing untruths like I’m forever grateful or I’ll never let go."  Most important, don’t focus on ourselves when we are meant to be glorifying God. Marva Dawn in Reaching Out without Dumbing Down (1995) notes that our gospel is oft-times “indistinguishable from a host of self-help doctrines” that focus on me and my feelings and nurture a narcissistic character. She says leaders must be wary of transforming congregation into audience, proclamation into performance and worship into entertainment. Instead, sung worship “should be thought provoking, stirring new thoughts about God, and new insights in to his character which in turn helps form new dynamics in ours” (p 249).

Worship involves people centring on God, expressing praise, and reflecting the incarnation, and has power to instil vision, nurture community and evoke an offering. Thus singing can be transformational. I can’t finish without showing where Fitch’s three-circle paradigm comes in. We are indeed God’s people called to “be present to his presence”, to discern it and cooperate with it. Just as using the Lord’s prayer (Practice 7) is relinquishing control and turning ourselves over to the reign of God, so is sung worship. We make way for the king, and for his kingdom. We undertake to live out the restored relationship between God and his beloved people. Can we also see Fitch’s three circles here?  Clearly Circle 1 is the insider experience, where most worship takes place. The second dotted circle is more inclusive and invitational and there is good evidence that seeing Christians worship can help people encounter Christ. The third space is not so easy. Sung worship at someone else’s table or in their space is inappropriate. But what we sing can shape us and prepare us for ‘ways of being’ in the presence of our neighbours. Brueggeman’s list of criteria for kingdom-centred people asks us to be “Intellectually credible..morally dense…and pastorally attentive”,  and reminds us that we influence the world “by being faithful to our promises, loving our enemies, speaking the truth, honouring the poor, suffering for the right and loving the earth”  (cited by Marva Dawn p282).

A blogger’s wisdom to finish:

It is useful to think of the songs in a church service as a part of conversation that is going on not only between God and ourselves but also among ourselves. In the songs, we speak to God and God speaks to us. We speak about God and ourselves. We also speak to each other. In all parts of this conversation God is speaking. He is giving us the words, as well as prompting us to speak.

For Christians, the somewhat countercultural act of 'singing faith' has taken place over many centuries in a practice that expresses our deepest yearnings and greatest delights. Sung worship is a liberating, healing, prophetic practice that can change lives. Through practising it, we are more present to the presence of God.

To consider: Have you thought about singing as a spiritual practice? How might this notion influence your attitude to conflicts over worship in your own context?

When the music fades
All is stripped away
And I simply come 
Longing just to bring
Something that's of worth
That will bless Your heart

I'll bring You more than a song, for a song in itself
Is not what You have required
You search much deeper within through the way things appear
You're looking into my heart

I'm coming back to the heart of worship
And it's all about You, all about You, Jesus
I'm sorry, Lord, for the thing I've made it
When it's all about You, all about You, Jesus....

© Matt Redman