Sunday, October 26, 2008

What is a Hymn?

I want to make a simple point here.
One would think it is self-evident what a hymn is.
The word 'hymn' could have a broad definition, as in a hymn is any song addressed to God in worship.
The point I want to make is this: a hymn is a song that any group of people gathered for worship can sing, over against worship music sung by a choir or worship leadership team to the congregation.
I am making this point because it seems that too often congregations are asked to sing songs which are better suited to have a small group sing in a service of worship after some rehearsals.
A hymn for the congregation to sing should be easy to learn and to remember.
What a congregation actually is able to sing will differ from one congregation to another, depending on tradition and available musical leadership. Some congregations have better musical leadership than others.
In general, when you decide to use new worship music in your congregation, one of the questions to ask would be: is this suitable for the congregation to sing, or is it better suited to a soloist or a choir?
"So now utter praise with all your heart and voice,
and bless the name of the Lord." Sirach 39:35. NRSV.

Sunday, October 19, 2008

Good Hymns

What makes for a good hymn?
This question perplexes many in our time, and I have a hard time answering it concretely.
Is it merely a matter of taste? Are there any objective standards we could agree on?
The fact that we call some hymns "good" and others "not so good," suggests that there are some standards. But what are they?
Newspapers and magazines regularly carry reviews of CDs of every description, and then they award them some stars, which suggests the reviewer has some standard for reaching conclusions about such things. The words and music are trite, or innovative, rich and provocative, or they offer nothing new. And so it goes.
Is it so subjective a matter as to be merely a matter of taste? And that begs the question: "what shapes our tastes?" Who knows the full answer? One piece of the answer has to do with some wonderful moment in our lives, probably when we were still young, when we truly noticed a piece of music. It struck us, and stopped to make us think. Somehow this music touched us, and became a key piece of judging for the rest of our lives.
I am aware of how my tastes were shaped. The first eight or so years of my life we had no radio. The only music I ever heard was singing around a harmonium in our home, and the singing of the congregation at church. In church we sang almost exclusively the book of psalms to Genevan tunes. Singing these together with a large congregation communicated to be a sense of dignity and hope. They expressed the people's longing, their fear of the dangers and destruction of war, and their hope. The singing tended to be very slow and stately, and I was impressed. As a boy I wanted to sing along.
To this day the Genevan melodies are important to me. I know many of them, and can play them by ear, they are so part of me. I know full well, too, that many of them are hardly used any more, for good reason. They are not easy. And they are part of a culture that is receding into a distant past.
To me, this highlights the importance of what we hear when we are young. What we listen to at home shapes us, and a way also hems us in. It almost seemed as if people were saying: "only versifications of the Psalms sung to a pipe organ are suitable for use by Christians." I imagine no one intended this when put so starkly, but that is how I remember it. Even the evangelical hymnody as in the book by Johannes De Heer, a notable collection of mostly hymns well-known in the Netherlands, was rather suspect. It was too light; it tend towards Arminianism. Sing it at home, maybe, but surely not in church!
One thing I learned from this is to suggest that we allow children to hear many styles or kinds of music. We don't have to like everything we hear. We will form our preference. But probably we will begin to appreciate the merit of a great many kinds of music, and learn to appreciate their own inherent value.
Allan.