Art Interacted
REGENT COLLEGE
INDS 501: The Christian Imagination
Loren Wilkinson
by Stacey Gleddie
Anthology of Quotations
March 5, 2004
MUSIC AND CULTURAL CONTEXT
v "As long as there are people there will be music. The world they live
in is a startlingly lovely, confusing, and warring place, and the music they
make springs out of every conceivable circumstance, from political protest
to childbirth to military conflict."
Harold Best's emphasis on cultural context is an idea that
I have come to place a lot of weight on due to my personal experience in cross-cultural
settings. A few years ago, I completed a program of Audio Engineering and
was granted the opportunity to be involved in a recording project in Ethiopia.
I worked on the recording of Christian Somali songs and during my time in
Ethiopia, I also had the opportunity to be involved with an evangelical Ethiopian
church that allowed me to speak to their choir and spend some time with their
music as well.
Two neighbouring cultures, same faith, dramatically different music. I was
astounded by the differences in the two types of music I was working with.
Somali music is very simple, using one scale and focusing primarily on the
words. Ethiopian music is incredibly complex, using over twenty scales. It
was the thematic differences, however, which really caught my attention. The
Somali music spoke primarily of perseverance in the face of persecution: a
much needed theme in a militantly Muslim country where Christians face persecution
on a daily basis. The evangelical Ethiopian music, however, carried a vastly
different theme. Their music spoke most often of a breaking away from or tearing
down of tradition: a theme that has grown out of the need for separation from
the Ethiopian Orthodox church which has grown almost unrecognisable as a Christian
faith.
The thematic differences in the Christian music of these two cultures led me to wonder what our own music says about the culture we live in and how we deal with it. Those who first came to North America spoke in their music of a great and wonderful God who could sustain them through difficult times. Then there was an up springing of choruses speaking of the love of God: perhaps in an attempt to bring God closer, a closeness that was missing from parents who struggled so hard for survival that they sometimes had little time for a full expression of love to their children. Now, there seems to be a longing for the awe of God to return. Perhaps I'm simply whistling in the dark, but it seems to me that perhaps we reveal more than we think we do in the music we use in our churches.
MUSICIANS AS SERVANTS
v Each musician must come to experience the dignity, rightness, and eventual
joy of putting things aside, of emptying oneself and taking the form of a
servant. Such musicians must be able to move back and forth, gracefully, servingly,
and willingly, from the symphony to the folk tune; back and forth without
complaint, compromise, or snobbery, without the conceit that doing an oratorio
is somehow more worthy or more deserving than doing a hymn tune."
Harold Best's suggestion that musicians must exist in a
creative humility of service that values each musical form in an effort to
serve and challenge the communities they serve in struck me as a very apt
assessment of the way in which musicians should serve in the church. Too often
church's are torn apart by the pride of musicians in conflict with the needs
of a congregation, or even by the conflict that arises when different musicians
place higher value on their own favourite expression of music.
It is important to acknowledge that worship originates from the worshiper,
and is not defined by a certain type of music that takes place on a Sunday
morning. Music is simply one expression of worship, which is continuous. As
such, the music on a given Sunday cannot be expected to cause worship, it
is a means of corporate expression. In this sense the music leader (notice
the intentional absence of the phrase "worship leader") is absolved
from responsibility for the worship of the congregation.
This being said, however, as a servant of the church, the music leader is
still responsible for ministering to a specific community to the best of his
or her ability. This includes an attempt to hear those in the congregation
who are not in agreement, to attempt to understand the reason for their complaint,
and to make any possible adjustments in order to serve that specific congregation
in a way that is most effective for them. This is not an easy task, but I
appreciate the strong stance that Harold Best takes in advocating this type
of service.
THE QUESTIONS TO ASK
v "One could wish that more church's would ask themselves these three
simple questions before they create musical programs: How much and what kind(s)
of music do we need? How much and what kind(s) do we simply want? By what
biblical and theological principles do we make our choices?"
I found this statement of wishful thinking to be Harold
Best's most stirring call to the use of music within the church. The distinction
between music that is needed in a certain congregation and what is only wanted
is essential. If we are responding only to "want", there will be
major dispute within the congregation. If, however, the discussion is focused
on what is actually needed for the congregation, the question becomes answerable
in a unified manner.
Music is an established part of nearly every Christian worship service, yet
there are few questions asked as to its reason for being there. To do music
well in a church, we must at least make an attempt at answering not only Best's
question: "By what biblical and theological principles do we make our
choices?" but also the question of why. Why did God command music to
be used in worship of Him? Why does God care about the arts? If we wrestle
with these questions, perhaps we will come closer to the reality of true musical
worship. If the question "why" is applied to everything we do in
our services, not only will our focus be clearer, but we will be able to eliminate
many things currently present in church music which are the result of personal
choice rather than the desire to bring glory to God.
THE PURPOSE TO SEEK
v "The union of music and function, as we have seen, can be traced all
the way back into God's way of putting the creation together: everything that
God makes has worth and everything that has worth functions. Putting it this
way unites musical action with function with purpose. Thus it is proper to
say that all musical choices should be purposefully and functionally appropriate,
with excellence continually assumed."
This evaluation of the "why", the reasons for music within a church setting, is brought out even further by Harold Best as he discusses the need for both purpose and function within any given worshiping community. All too often music is seen as the dressing of a service, the icing on the cake, what we use to draw people in so that they have to sit and listen to the sermon. I actually heard a pastor say once: "well - we've got the band here to get them inside and then, once we've got them, we can hit them with the gospel". I have yet to find something in scripture to substantiate this point of view. It is not only devaluing to the people being spoken of, it is also a devaluing of the use of music in worship, bringing it down to the level of a simple tool. The arts are just now re-entering the foreground of Christian discussion, and much still needs to be examined to determine what the function of the varied arts are in a worship context, as well as the resulting issue of what is appropriate in light of the function. I'm excited to see this discussion evolve, and can't help but hope I can be a part of it on some level.
THE ART OF INTERPRETATION
v "It is sometimes commented that when an art critic writes about a piece
of art, she is simply offering the reader her particular fantasy of the work.
But artists often grumble that the critics 'don't get' something or other
about their art. To no avail, since the artist gives up control of the work's
meaning once it is presented to the viewer, now privileged to bring his own
thoughts and experience to the viewing process."
I found this quote by Lynn Aldrich very interesting. The
arts are inherently personal. Most artists have a very close connection to
their work, which is often a reflection of personal struggle, or thought.
My own work is this way; if someone spread my songs out chronologically, they
would form a map of my personal struggles of life and faith over time.
If, however, art is such a personal thing, what is the role of the viewer
or listener in art? When I hear a song I interpret it through the grid of
my own life, and so can come to identify with it almost as closely as with
one that I've written myself. Yet, when I present my own songs I tend to shrink
from the interpretations of others. I feel the need to explain my own interpretation
in some vain hope that those listening will hear the same thing I do when
I'm singing. How difficult it is for the artist to give up their work into
the hands of others; yet how necessary. It is this very variety of interpretation
that gives strength and longevity to art. Art remains current through the
interpretations of those who are still interacting with it.
THE NEED TO LISTEN
v "In such a culture, popular music has to be interpreted less as a concise
medium with its own internal rules and more in relation to the other dimensions
of the culture in which it is shaped. Such music does not have a separate
meaning by itself, in isolation from its context. Rather the context makes
the music possible and is integral to the meaning."
Graham Cray has a fascinating perspective on the role of popular music in
spirituality. Popular music has often been denigrated by the church as "evil",
or at least as "unholy". It is very easy as a Christian to focus
so fully on not being of the world, that we forget that not only are we living
in it, but we also have some measure of responsibility for it.
Granted, there must be a line drawn somewhere in the music that we listen
to consistently, but popular music says much about the worries, joys and struggles
of the world around us and should be valued as a tool of connection. Lyrics
such as: "These are the days of miracle and wonder and don't cry baby,
don't cry" (Paul Simon); "tell me I will never die unloved"
(Jann Arden); "I've got it coming to me because I'm not satisfied, The
hunger keeps on growing" (Dave Matthews); and "Beneath the dust
and love and sweat that hangs on everybody, There's a dead man trying to get
out" (Adam Duritz, Counting Crows) speak of the struggle, the longing,
the reality of living in this world.
How can we hope to minister to a world that we know nothing of? Even entertainment-geared
'artists' such as Brittany Spears should not be ignored, because this is music
that influences millions of people worldwide. No other artistic genre has
such widespread impact as popular music, a fact that should not cause us to
shrink away, but to sit up, and take notice in order to respond.
THE TUNING OF THE STRINGS
v "God's involvement with our lives neither pushes us out, nor swallows
us up, nor leads to some kind of fusion. God does something much more creative
- through intimate interaction with us, he frees us to 'sound' as we were
created to sound, enabling us to be more fully ourselves. We are not de-humanized,
but re-humanized."
Jeremy Begbie's image of the Trinity as three notes played simultaneously
is a stirring picture of the interaction and independence of the Trinity,
as well as our involvement in the 'sounding'. I love the idea of God's interaction
with us being to 'free us to sound'. It makes me think of tuning a guitar.
When you get towards the last few strings, if you've done the tuning well,
the other strings will hum as you approach the correct pitch. The resonance,
being perfectly matched, causes one note to play the others. The same is true
of choral and orchestral music. At certain points in the music, if the music
is played well, the combination of pitches and timbres will cause a note to
sound in harmony which is not written, or even being played by any instrument.
It is a note that is created out of the combined effort of all. I think Begbie's
illustration holds true even to this level. If we are freed to sound, and
do it well, then we in turn are able to free others to sound, and to produce
new things in our combined sounding with the Trinity.
THE USE OF SILENCE
v "Since words are his chief instrument, words are what he chiefly has
to use but remembering always that the silence that his words frame - the
silence that his words are born out of and that his words break and that his
words are swallowed up by - may well convey the mystery of truth better than
the words themselves can just as the empty space inside a church may well
convey better than all the art and architecture of a church the mystery of
that in which we live and move and have our being. We put frames of words
around silence and shells of stone and wood around emptiness, but it is the
silence, the emptiness themselves, that finally matter and out of which the
Gospel comes as word."
Buechner's description of the importance of the silence before a preacher
begins to speak is profound. We live in a world that is uncomfortable with,
even afraid of silence, absence of any kind. We are constantly bombarded with
colour, with shapes, with sounds, with things to hear and see and feel. Perhaps
the value of art and creativity lies partly in the ability to speak out of
and into silence, to mould silence in such a way as to make silence speak
again.
It sounds contradictory, perhaps it is, but it seems to me that some of the
most powerful art uses silence or absence in a profound way. This is most
evident to me in music, specifically in classical music. The tension of a
single note suspended supersedes the weight of a waterfall of pitches that
came before. I learned this from my piano teacher when I was in high school.
With youthful impatience I wanted her to give me, her most advanced student,
the most difficult pieces to play. I wanted the fast and the furious, the
cascade of notes that would overwhelm my listeners' ears as they gazed in
amazement at the effortless flow of my fingers across the keys. Instead she
gave me Chopin. She gave me pieces with gigantic holes in them that I wanted
to fill with trills and arpeggios. She played me a recording of one of her
favourite pianists playing the piece she wanted me to learn, and I listened
in awe to the power of silence. "That's what I want you to learn"
she said. So I tried to learn the value of silence and space. I still think
of this as the mark of a very good musician - the ability to handle silence
well. I think it is this Buechner speaks of when he describes so eloquently
the truth inherent in silence. I think perhaps this silent truth exists because
it was into this silence that God spoke, and out of nothing that God brought
something. This is the mystery. This is the truth.
THE EXPRESSION OF REALITY
v "If [the preacher] does not make real to them the human experience
of what it is to cry into the storm and receive no answer, to be sick at heart
and find no healing, then he becomes the only one there who seems not to have
had that experience because most surely under their bonnets and shawls and
jackets, under their afros and ponytails, all the others there have had it
whether they talk of it or not. As much as anything else, it is their experience
of the absence of God that has brought them there in search of his presence
and if the preacher does not speak of that and to that, then he becomes like
the captain of a ship who is the only one aboard who either does not know
that the waves are twenty feet high and the decks awash or will not face up
to it so that anything else he tries to say by way of hope and comfort and
empowering becomes suspect on the basis of that one crucial ignorance or disingenuousness
or cowardice or reluctance to speak in love any truths but the ones that people
love to hear."
The gospel as tragedy: this is a topic that few care to take up in the evangelical
world that produced "The Happy Song" as one of the commonly used
choruses in corporate worship music. The gospel as tragedy, the admission
of the work as done . . . . and not done: this is a real faith. Perhaps here
the majority of art has remained faithful.
I am inclined to believe, however, that corporate worship music has failed
in this area. During Iain Provan's Old Testament class, I nodded furiously
through his tirade on the lack of lament used in churches. It's something
that I have felt deeply for quite some time. I went through a time of depression
a few years ago. I've never made so many excuses not to go to church. The
last place I wanted to be was in the middle of a crowd of apparently happy
people, expressing happy emotions. I felt that, in the state of emotion I
was in, there was no place for me at church. Corporate worship music is at
least in part a communal expression of emotion, yet we stubbornly refuse to
acknowledge any type of negative emotion. If we can't acknowledge corporately
that all is not right with the world, with our worlds, then we invalidate
anyone who may be experiencing a reality that goes against the nice picture
we paint every Sunday morning.
THE LIMITS WE WORK WITHIN
v "The components of the material world are fixed; those of the world
of imagination increase by a continuous and irreversible process, without
any destruction or rearrangement of what went before. This represents the
nearest approach we experience to "creation out of nothing," and
we conceive of the act of absolute creation as being an act analogous to that
of the creative artist."
This quote struck me in a rather strange way. Often I have
wondered about the number of songs in the world. Sometimes I'm almost convinced
that the songs I write must have been produced at some time in some distant
past; it's an uncanny feeling of repetition. There are a limited number of
notes that can be played or sung, a limited number of instruments to play
them on, a limited number of words that can be used, and languages to speak
them in. Considering that I write approximately twenty songs in a year, and
there are numerous songwriters worldwide writing as many or more songs per
year, there must be a point at which everything runs out. The limits of matter
are the confines within which we work.
But this limited matter was created by a limitless God, and perhaps that is
the point. A God that can create limitlessly out of nothing gave us these
limits within which to operate. And what would be narrow limits indeed if
they could be placed around a limitless God, may be endless to those who are
a part of those very limits. The ring that He has drawn around us, limiting
us to this sphere of matter, is perhaps large enough. Large enough for now.
Perhaps my uncanny feeling of repetition is the shadow of a time to come when
I will be granted the right to outgrow these magnificent limits.
THE JOY EMERGING
For many years I shied away from Christian music, from Christian art as a
whole, finding much of the current Christian art to be kitschy and somewhat
cliché. Today, however, I feel as if the Christians of the world are
waking up to the world of art again. I realise that this sounds arrogant,
but I write with the knowledge that my own art has also been through this
journey from kitsch to the beginning of competency, a competency that has
already progressed to excellence for many great Christian artists.
The reading I did for this assignment brought me the joyful realisation that
the depth of theological thought on art is resurfacing. It began before I
noticed, and I feel like it's starting to seep into the minds and hearts of
Christian artists opening them to the joy of not having to paint another Easter
lily in the same neutral colours, of not having to write using the same tired
images in the same tired ways. Christian artists are waking up to realise
that they do indeed have a voice, and a place, and they can indeed use their
talent well within their faith to the glory of God, and to the edification
of us all.
CONTENTS
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Aldrich, Lynn. "Through Sculpture: What's the Matter with Matter?"
In Beholding the Glory: Incarnation Through the Arts, Jeremy Begbie ed., 98-117.
Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2003.
Begbie, Jeremy. "Through Music: Sound Mix." In Beholding the Glory: Incarnation Through the Arts, Jeremy Begbie ed., 138-154. Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2003.
Best, Harold M. Music Through the Eyes of Faith. San Francisco: Harper Collins Publishers, 1993.
Buechner, Frederick. Telling the Truth: The Gospel as Tragedy, Comedy & Fairy Tale. San Francisco: Harper Collins Publishing, 1977.
Cray, Graham. "Through Popular Music: 'Wholy Holy?'" In Beholding the Glory: Incarnation Through the Arts, Jeremy Begbie ed., 118-137. Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2003.
Sayers, Dorothy. The Mind of the Maker. New York: Mendian
Books, 1956.
Great Commission Worship & Arts Center