On Form vs. Content: Musical Style and the Overemphasis on Texts

I've been to a couple of WELS Worship Conferences, and one School of Worship Enrichment. One theme that has consistently bothered me has been the (over)emphasis of texts, to the possible exclusion of music. Now, they don't say it like that, nor will they probably admit that this is happening, but in the context of our synod as a whole, I've seen even the conservatives quickly change the subject when the issue of musical style is raised.

The oft-repeated WELS worship principle is this: The texts must dominate, the music is subordinate, and we should set standards of excellence.

In principle, I have nothing against this. But it only addresses half of the issue. When we refuse to address matters of style, it leaves a hole in our worship principles large enough to drive a tour bus through. We typically call this hole "Christian freedom," but I'm not convinced that's the case.

In little more than a decade, Koiné has become a household name in the WELS, and their music is a good case study in regard to the WELS worship principles. One of my favorite hymns is Jesu meine Freude, and it is also one of my favorite Koiné arrangements. It takes the text, tune, and even the traditional harmonies of the Johann Franck hymn and gives them an upbeat tempo and contemporary instrumentation. The result is a fresh look at a centuries-old Lutheran hymn. The reason Koiné is an ideal case study here is because they allow us to isolate a single, key variable—style. The text, melody, and harmonies are undeniably excellent and therefore fit the WELS worship principles. But there is a palpable difference between the Koiné recording and a Bach setting of the hymn, and it's a difference of style.

The common wisdom WELS offers in regard to style is, "If it offends someone, don't do it." In my opinion, this is too simplistic to be of any use, and easily ignored or misapplied. For instance, it seems to imply that congregational (or worse, individual) tastes should set our worship standards. So the question needs to be asked: In worship, can we make judgments on matters of style without restricting our sacred Christian freedom? I think we can, and we must.

Aesthetics in Art and Music

Credit for this revelation goes to Dr. Gene. E. Veith, who gave a series of lectures at CCLE XV that I was privileged to attend a few weeks ago. His lectures centered on the matter of aesthetics, and after having read State of the Arts: From Bezalel to Mappelthorpe and heard his lectures, I would guess that there are probably few Lutherans alive who have as much insight into aesthetics as Dr. Veith.

One of the major premises of his lecture was that in a great work of art, content and form relate to, and compliment, one another. He used a negative example of a beaming smiley-face emoji with the word "Awesome" written underneath it. The cartoon smiley is so antithetical to the actual meaning of the word (i.e., inspiring great admiration, apprehension, or fear) as to be ridiculous. Another example Veith cited was "praise" music. How often do they talk about how "awesome" and "holy" God is, but with banal, repetitive, trite music? The form doesn't reflect the content, so the work of art is a failure. Contrast with "Holy, holy, holy! Lord God Almighty" by Reginald Heber and its tune by John Dykes, which builds a sense of awe as the notes "ascend" to God. The aesthetic form of a work has as much to do with its success or failure as does the message or content.

Note: Just to clarify, I am not fully equating style with aesthetics, even if I seem to use them interchangeably. Style is one part of the whole aesthetic experience. Sometimes there is an almost total overlap, and sometimes the stylistic impact is minimal. For instance, a contemporary praise song's melodic and harmonic patterns are determined in large part by the style of the genre. Whereas, in the Koiné arrangement of Jesus, Priceless Treasure, the new stylistic contribution is relatively small and related mostly to instrumentation; whereas its meaning, poetry, melody, and harmonies were still retained in spite of the stylistic facelift.

The point is that it isn't totally honest to separate the text (content) from the music itself (form) and evaluate each separately. The style and performance of music is where much of the art exists. It can make the difference between a holy and reverent hymn, and an ironic one.

Flickr: by TinkerTailor

Let's pull this discussion into the realm of the visual arts to look at it from a different angle. An artist could render a crucifixion using a fractured cubist style that relates in no way to the content. Few Christians of any stripe would be convinced to hang it above their altar simply because the subject matter (content) is ostensibly Christian. And if they did consider hanging it, it would probably be because they personally like the style (form) and think it will make a statement about how non-traditional their church is. But a bad work of art isn't redeemed by good intentions or even a good message. The success of a work of art rests on the harmonious interaction of content and form.

We regularly make major qualitative judgments based on aesthetics. As we should. Why then, does our synod refuse to enter into discussions of aesthetics and style when it comes to worship?

Concerns About Christian Freedom

2014 Ntl. Youth Rally, courtesy WELS Facebook page.

The short answer, I suspect, is that we are oversensitive towards legalism. I readily grant that this is a legitimate concern, given that WELS still struggles to overcome its pietist roots, and because progressives use the label as a weapon against their conservative brothers. But if we're too afraid of the right ditch, we've over-corrected and landed in the left. We've watched our National Youth Rallies become increasingly like rock concerts, so we can only suppose that the synod must be endorsing it. Even the WELS Worship Conference last summer, which was mostly wonderful and awe-inspiring, featured a scene straight from "Sister Act." The result was that raucous and offensive worship was offered up beside excellent and reverent worship as acceptable alternatives for WELS congregations.

On some level, we've convinced ourselves that this is okay. If the texts are good (which isn't always the case), and if there is some liturgical structure, and as long as everything is of excellent quality, it still fits those guidelines, right? The style can be tossed in with Christian freedom. The biggest pitfall before us is that this cafeteria approach to worship ("As long as the texts are good, choose whichever style you feel comfortable with") will inevitably lead to a cafeteria approach to doctrine. You don't have to take my word for it; ask our brothers in the LC-MS trenches. They've been fighting this battle longer than we have.

To be fair, WELS hasn't been completely silent on the topic of style. Jonathan Hein's plenary address at the 2014 WELS Worship Conference, Compelling Worship, at least addressed that music can have "stylistic baggage." But I think he worded his argument poorly when he said that we have the Christian freedom to "set the Nunc Dimittis to 'gangsta' rap or the Kyrie to heavy metal," only that it's unwise to do so (p. 17). But if it is unwise (read: unloving), do we really have freedom to do it? St. Paul says, "For you were called to freedom, brothers. Only do not use your freedom as an opportunity for the flesh, but through love serve one another" (Gal. 5:13).

Hopefully I'm incorrectly characterizing the synod leadership's views. This is one of the many cases where I would be happy to be proved wrong. There is absolutely a place for Christian freedom in worship. But an uncritical stance toward musical style has allowed a steady migration of unworthy music into our worship. Excellence is a worthy enough goal, but it makes no explicit comment on style. What aspects must be excellent? Do they mean only excellence of craftsmanship, or of performance value, or of artistic merit? Who defines excellence? Judged by its own standards, surely a rock song can be excellent. So can an abstract painting or a minimalist sculpture. It's good to say that we want to achieve excellence in all things, but then we have to follow through. We have to be willing to define our terms, and then make judgments accordingly; "This is good and excellent; this needs improvement; this is deplorable."

In the case of Koiné, I preface my analysis by saying that I like their music. More than a matter of taste, it's excellent, because a talented group of Lutherans taking good Lutheran hymns and giving them a modern arrangement could result in nothing less. Even their original music is quite good. But I have to qualify that by saying that these are excellent for a certain purpose, and that purpose is not the divine service. I would like to believe that there's nothing inherently inappropriate about guitars and amps in worship. However, they've consistently pushed the limits of what is fitting for corporate worship, until their worship events look and sound no different from their concerts, and that should cause concern. The cubist crucifixion may be a perfectly valid art form and a deeply felt expression of someone's faith, but the aesthetic distorts the content and subverts the order and beauty of the liturgy—and worse, clouds the clear proclamation of the gospel. It thus may be fine in a public arts venue or in your home, but the things we use for worship in God's house are different, holy, and set apart.

As difficult and sometimes painful as discussions of aesthetics and style can be, I think it's good medicine. We need a more nuanced and responsible approach to worship than, "Just worry about the texts," or "If it offends someone, don't do it." We need an approach that addresses Christian freedom, but is also true to the historical Christian faith and the rule of love. The Book of Concord describes such an approach, and I encourage everyone to become familiar with it.

The Liturgy as Soundtrack

Many of you probably don't know this about me, but I am a soundtrack lover. At some point in high school I was so moved by a John Williams score that I just had to own the soundtrack. From that point on, I have collected a moderate library of movie scores and soundtracks by some of the most prolific composers of our time—Ennio Morricone, Jerry Goldsmith, Michael Kamen, James Horner, and of course, John Williams. If you listen often enough to movie scores without the movie, it really improves your ear for musical story telling. I think it also makes you more consciously aware of that thing that most people think of as "background music," but which has an uncanny ability to manipulate your emotions and make you feel what the composer wants you to feel.

As much as I love good movie scores, and as much as I love Lutheran worship, I have no desire for the two to mix. Whenever the sphere of entertainment bleeds into the sphere of Christian worship, it subverts true worship. And I will be so bold as to say that it does so as a rule. The more we try to make worship like a night at the movies or a pop concert, the less our minds are drawn to Christ through Word and Sacrament. I've talked about contemporary Christian music before, but today, I am referring to something else. Specifically, I have in mind two liturgies from Northwestern Publishing House, published in the Christian Worship Supplement (CWS), called "Gathering Rite on Holy Baptism" and "Gathering Rite on the Word of God."

(On a side note: I have no clue what the historical significance of a gathering rite is, if indeed there is any. I have a hunch that it is a relatively recent product of Vatican II. Five bucks to the first person who can cite a source.)

I first experienced the gathering rites in Georgia, when our church was using the CWS quite often. (In fact, it seemed like we exclusively used liturgies from the Supplement, and never from the hymnal. My wife and I had to be very persistent with our pastor in order to get the Common Service back into the rotation.) The texts are quite good, and the hymn verses are appropriate. But musically, they are utter failures. If you have never been made to participate in the CWS gathering rites, count yourself lucky. I will try to recreate the experience for you.

Start by imagining that you are not in worship, but in a Hallmark movie, which happens to be set in a Lutheran church. (Alternatively, imagine you're in a WELS Connection video.) Instead of the pastor and the congregation reading and singing responsively, they are speaking over the top of choreographed music, which transitions into a hymn verse between each section of the response. The congregation awkwardly fades in, because the only one who knows when to start singing is the pastor—and only because he has rehearsed it dozens of times. But sometimes the pastor's timing will be a little slow in speaking the absolution, and then the MIDI player will have started the refrain already. The gathering rites completely frustrated a life-long Lutheran such as myself, and I can only imagine the total resignation of a first-time visitor.

Of course, what might have gone more smoothly with a live organist who can constantly adjust tempo and volume was sabotaged completely by a mindless computer. But that's another topic. The point is that even if there had been an organist and a pastor who had rehearsed the liturgy to perfection, and even if life was like a Rogers and Hammerstein musical where everyone knew exactly when to sing, you still have demoted the liturgy to the role of soundtrack. Now I'll explain why that's a bad thing.

First, the liturgy is designed to bear the texts of Scripture. It is not there just to sound beautiful, or to fill dead space with sound. If that was the case, we could just insert our favorite Bach CD and proceed as normal, with the confidence that our worship is being adorned with the best music mortal man has to offer. But problems always result from people thinking that music and the arts serve only a superficial purpose—that of pleasing the senses. Such an approach naturally causes confusion between worship that employs the arts, and entertainment, which also pleases the senses.

Second, someone who would plan for "quiet keyboard music" to be played while people are engaged in spoken liturgical responses has no real appreciation for the power and art of music. Luther wrote,

It was not without reason that the fathers and prophets wanted nothing else to be associated as closely with the Word of God as music. Therefore, we have so many hymns and Psalms where message and music join to move the listener's soul. ... After all, the gift of language combined with the gift of song was only given to man to let him know that he should praise God with both words and music, namely, by proclaiming [the Word of God] through music and by providing sweet melodies with words.¹

Music is just so much emotional sensation without the addition of human language in the form of song. So the composer of these gathering rites is not using music for the purpose God gifted it for—that of elevating the truths of scripture. Instead, he is striving for "ambiance," making it the musical equivalent of wallpaper.

Except that to call it musical wallpaper is being overly charitable. Because wallpaper can be pretty, or it can be distracting. But it could never so actively compete with the liturgy as does the musical accompaniment to the CWS gathering rites. Ask any film composer what he would do when there is important dialogue, and he'll say that the music has to get out of the way—there are plenty of other opportunities for a composer to show his skill. Experienced composers know that if the music is not supporting the dialogue by way of song, it is competing with it. But it is also common sense; two signals that are not in harmony result in noise. And when you have something as important as confession and absolution happening, it should not have to compete with anything.

For the above reasons, the CWS gathering rites do not show the high respect for music in general, and the liturgy in particular, that Luther showed for them. Their existence reflects little more than our synod's general infatuation with variety. "Variety to enhance a sense of the season" is touted as the first useful feature of a gathering rite in the WELS worship resources for Advent. The trouble with this intended use is that when you use a single, poorly-written rite for a whole season, say, Easter, or Lent, you'll never want to hear it again by the end. It seems that the authors of the above resources must have been aware of this, commenting that one particular gathering rite may not have a "life span" of more than a few years.²

Is there anyone who needs variety so badly that he must push these piecemeal soundtrack liturgies over on his congregation? (Put your hands down; it was a rhetorical question.)

The (potentially) good news is that the WELS is asking for input on its new hymnal. Polling the public for advice on hymnal-making could be disastrous, or it could be good. Or it could mean that the person currently in charge of the hymnal project isn't really sure how to go about it. I'm not sure, either. So I encourage you to go and submit to him good, sensible, biblical advice as to which hymns and liturgies to continue using, and which to avoid.

_______________

¹ LW 53:323-24, quoted in Carl F. Schalk, Luther on Music: Paradigms of Praise (St. Louis, MO: Concordia Publishing House, 1988), 37.
^{2 "}Gathering Preparation," WELS Connect (Oct. 24, 2011), https://connect.wels.net/AOM/ps/worship/Church%20Year%20Planning%20Documents/1%20Advent%20through%20New%20Year/Advent/Advent%20Gathering%20Rite%20-%20Browning/Gathering%20Preparation.rtf (accessed September 2, 2013).

Operation (Body of Christ Edition)

In Lutheran churches, it has become relatively commonplace to have a lay-led worship committee. Personally, I think it's a good practice. Historically, it performs some of the functions that were often carried out by the cantor. The cantor was not only responsible for conducting the choral music program,  but was himself a competent performer. He also enjoyed responsibilities such as chief music instructor, and planning the entire musical program for the liturgy. It was a very prestigious position, second only to the clergy, and was awarded only to the most skilled musicians. In some modern Lutheran parishes, they still employ a cantor.

The advantage of having a lay-led worship committee (or cantor) is that it allows one or several people to give the worship service the attention it deserves. Ideally, the result is that the liturgy, hymns, readings, and sermon become a coherent whole, rather than a patchwork. The pastor does not have to divide his attention between service planning and his pastoral duties, and the chances of an incoherent service being thrown together at the last minute are eliminated.

I've been to churches that suffered from the lack of any worship planning. In one situation, a pastor adopted a policy to let the organist pick a "wild card" hymn every Sunday, while the remainder were picked seemingly at random from the appropriate section of CW. In another, the pastor used a hymn chart that recorded how many times the congregation had sung each hymn in CW, with the policy that the congregation should never sing more than one "unfamiliar" hymn on any Sunday. The result was that they sang certain "favorite" hymns far too often, while entire sections of the hymnal remained unfamiliar to them.

But I've also been to churches where the practice of having a worship committee was torpedoed by the insistence that one person with no musical experience sit on the committee. The intent was to give the uneducated congregation a "voice" on the worship planning. But for all practical purposes, an individual who couldn't find middle C on a piano had veto power over musical selections. The result was that some beautiful Luther hymns were deemed "creepy" because they were in a minor key.

So what's the big deal? Aren't you being an elitist? Well, sort of. There are places where democracy is wholly inappropriate. Imagine if the fans determined the calls in a baseball game by means of vote. Whichever team had more fans present would obviously win every call. Or imagine making someone umpire who knew nothing about baseball. Now, this individual might claim that because he has no experience with baseball, he has no biases and is therefore more likely to make fair calls than a seasoned veteran. While that makes some sense at first glance, without any experience, he has only his instantaneous whims and emotional reactions to guide his calls.  Besides that, this person actually has no idea what a fair call is if he doesn't know the rules of baseball.

Insofar as Jesus insists that every part of the Body do the work he designed it to do (1 Cor 12:15-18), sure, I guess some might call that elitism. We aren't all called to be worship leaders, just like we aren't all called to be pastors or teachers. But anticipating the elitism objection, St. Paul continues, "On the contrary, those parts of the body that seem to be weaker are indispensable, and the parts that we think are less honorable we treat with special honor" (1 Cor 12:22-23). He further argues in Rom 9:21, "Does not the potter have the right to make out of the same lump of clay some pottery for special purposes and some for common use?"

It is not our place to ask why God didn't give us this or that talent, much less to surgically implant ourselves into a different part of the Body of Christ. Our vocation is to serve with the talents he has given only to us, in the particular niches in which he has placed us. We are not all called to be worship leaders—but we are all called to worship. Whether or not we have a "voice" in the choosing of worship music, every one of us has a voice in the worship of our Redeemer. Believe it or not, we are perfectly suited to that and every vocation by the people and circumstances that God has placed in our lives to shape and form us into his special creations. Thanks be to God! He has not only redeemed us and asked for lives of worship, but he gives us the gifts, the motivation, and the grace to perform those acts, and sanctifies them by the work of his Holy Spirit!

Jaroslav Vajda: Concerning Poetry and Hymnody

If you're like most Lutherans, you've probably never heard of Jaroslav Vajda. So I'll fill you in a little bit, then tell you why I'm writing about him. Vajda was an LC-MS pastor and hymn writer, who began writing hymn texts in the 1960s. He is credited with giving American hymnody a "new voice" in an era that was dominated mostly by British poets. This article credits him with being much more interested with writing hymns for the liturgy and Church year than the hymn writers from across the Atlantic. Vajda died in 2008 at the age of 89, having written and translated over 200 hymns that appear in many hymnals of various denominations, including Christian Worship and its supplement (WELS), the Evangelical Lutheran Hymnary (ELS), and the Lutheran Service Book (LC-MS).

So here's why I'm writing about Vajda. I had never heard his name until a few years ago. I kept hearing pastors reverently mentioning his name, always followed by glowing reviews of his beautiful hymn texts. He is even said to have been "the greatest Lutheran poet since Paul Gerhardt" (Schalk: Wonderful hymns of Jaroslav Vaija). Having been made aware of his name and his illustrious reputation, I was able to take note whenever I would see him listed as the author of a hymn. So admittedly, my experience with Vajda's hymn writing is limited to what has been included in the aforementioned Lutheran hymnals.

Because I have not read all of his hymns, part of me feels that it is unfair to pass judgement on them based on the dozen or so that I have read and sung. However, I would also like to think that the various hymnal committees have sifted through his works and selected only the best for inclusion in their respective hymnals. Unfortunately, if this is the case, it does not really help my opinion of Vajda's hymnody. (And here comes the part where I sound snooty and judgmental.) Of the eight Vajda hymns included in CW, half of them rank among the worst hymns in the hymnal, in my opinion.

What criteria could cause me to reach such a conclusion? Allow me to elaborate. First of all, I won't produce a bulleted list of criteria that every hymn should meet, or else be thrown out. Dealing with art and music probably necessitates an organic process. (And, by the way, critique is part of that organic process of inclusion/exclusion. Just because a hymnal committee included it does not necessarily make it worthy of inclusion within the Song of the Church.) By contrast, a concrete list of criteria would prove overly restrictive and rule out some very good hymns, or else be too short to be effective. But, that being said, there are some basic unwritten rules that Vajda seems to frequently break.

The biggest one is theological clarity. I can't argue with Vajda's theology, because when it comes out it is spot-on. But in hymn writing, there is often a balance struck between poetry (artistic expressiveness) and theology. In the great hymns of the Church, the poetry is minimal, because being too abstract or too "artistic" will get in the way of the clear proclamation of the gospel. (This is essentially what I have argued about the visual arts in the Church, as well.) So let's look at a few cases-in-point. The first is "Now the Silence," which I would say is tied for worst hymn in the CW with "Then the Glory." It's a one-verse hymn which reads as follows:

Now the silence
Now the peace
Now the empty hands uplifted
Now the kneeling
Now the plea
Now the Father's arms in welcome
Now the hearing
Now the pow'r
Now the vessel brimmed for pouring
Now the body
Now the blood
Now the joyful celebration
Now the wedding
Now the songs
Now the heart forgiven leaping
Now the Spirit's visitation
Now the Son's epiphany
Now the Father's blessing
Now
Now
Now

The major fault of this hymn is that its theological content is extremely thin—sort of an abstract outline of some scriptural truths: grace, atonement, heaven, etc. But what little content there is almost completely lost in a barrage of repetitive adverbs, which I can only suppose is intended for poetic effect. But while I can appreciate this poem to a degree when it is read aloud, it becomes tedious and even exasperating when set to music and sung by a congregation. 

A second unwritten rule of good hymn writing is to avoid sentimentality. Being sentimental should not be confused with being emotional. Here's what I mean: "Lord, Thee I Love With All My Heart" is an extremely emotional hymn. The text and music come together so powerfully to describe the relationship between a broken soul and a gracious God. And when verse three describes the resurrection in the prophetic words of Job, who can hold back tears of joy? This emotion comes from the beauty of the gospel itself more than from the artistry of the hymn writer, and touches each believer on a personal level—because we have experienced it. Sentimentality, on the other hand, has been described by some as "emotion unearned." We sang the Vajda hymn "Peace Came to Earth" on Christmas Eve, and it illustrates my point:

Peace came to earth at last that chosen night
When angels clove the sky with song and light
And God embodied love and sheathed his might—
Who could but gasp: Immanuel!
Who could but sing: Immanuel!

And who could be the same for having held
The infant in their arms and later felt
The wounded hands and side, all doubts dispelled—
Who could but sigh: Immanuel!
Who could but shout: Immanuel!

I should point out that the third line of the first verse is a very deep and beautiful statement, and were it not for the last two lines (repeated in each verse, but with different verbs), I could be persuaded to include this hymn in the hymnal. But those last two lines are deal-breakers for me. Sure, they are intended for poetic effect. But first of all, it is pure sentimentality. The poet is so overcome with emotion that he projects his sighing and gasping on the whole Christian Church. Why can we not be allowed to have our own emotional responses? And furthermore, how can I have an emotional reaction to something I have not experienced? Vajda is asking me to imagine holding the infant, then to imagine touching his wounds as my doubts melt away. But I cannot really do any of these things, so my emotional reaction is ultimately unearned. So while parts of this hymn are certainly praiseworthy, it is difficult to overlook its glaring faults.

The third and last unwritten rule that Vajda often breaks is tied in closely with the second, and that is that they are overly personal. Again, this may be a desirable thing in poetry, but it does not make for good hymnody. For instance, verse two of the above hymn text is substituting a personal (albeit imaginary) experience for the universal experience of the Church. There is a better example in one of Vajda's more well-known hymns, "Where Shepherds Lately Knelt."

Where shepherds lately knelt and kept the angel's word,
I come in half-belief, a pilgrim strangely stirred;
But there is room and welcome there for me,
But there is room and welcome there for me. 

In that unlikely place I find him as they said:
Sweet newborn Babe, how frail! and in a manger bed,
A still, small voice to cry one day for me,
A still, small voice to cry one day for me. 

How should I not have known Isaiah would be there,
His prophecies fulfilled? With pounding heart I stare:
A child, a son, the Prince of Peace for me,
A child, a son, the Prince of Peace for me. 

Can I, will I forget how Love was born, and burned
Its way into my heart unasked, unforced, unearned,
To die, to live, and not alone for me,
To die, to live, and not alone for me.

Adoration of the Shepherds, Hugo van der Goes

It's a good sign that a hymn is going to be overly personal if it is written in the first person singular. (Luther's hymn, "From Heaven Above to Earth I Come" is written in first person, but from the point of view of the Angel, who shares only God's message, not his personal feelings.) At the risk of sounding repetitive, sharing your personal feelings, experiences, etc. may be perfectly fine in the art of poetry, but hymnody demands more. Hymnody is the Song of the Church. If it does not build her up, it does not belong (1 Cor 14). We don't need to imagine that we are a shepherd, staring into the manger with throbbing heart, in order for Christmas to be "real" for us. I realize it's statements like this that give Lutherans a reputation for having no stomach for emotion. Let me just reiterate—having emotions is a good and natural thing. But seeking an emotional high for its own sake is worlds away from having a genuine emotional reaction to the message of the gospel. In "Where Shepherds Lately Knelt," Vajda does include some wonderful theological truths—but they are lost amidst the sentimentality of swooning shepherds.

I did not pursue a degree in literature, and my experience with poetry as an art form is extremely thin. So I cannot say with any authority that Jaroslav Vajda was a either a good or a bad poet. I do think it is an exaggeration in the extreme to say he was the best Lutheran poet since Gerhardt. As a Christian, I think his poetry is at times good and meaningful—even beautiful. But on the whole, I have to conclude that a good poem does not necessarily make a good hymn. Maybe we should reconsider whether these hymns should really be included in our hymnals.

Anyone know of some good Christmas hymns written in the past 50 years?

"Hearts and Hands" Part II

(Continued from Part I) The opening service took place in the college chapel, was led by Koiné, and consisted of several hymns appropriately substituted for the parts of the liturgy. The sermon, by Pastor Mike Novotny, was based on several excerpts from the life of David (1 & 2 Samuel), and explained how the theme "Hearts and Hands of David" applied to the goals of the workshop.

The premise of the sermon was that there are three classifications of people in the world. The first group is comprised of people who have "hands"—that is, talent—but who use their talents only for personal gain. Countless gifted businessmen, artists, musicians, and actors use their talents to amass wealth and fame. The second group is comprised of people who have "heart"—that is, a desire to serve their Lord—but God has not seen fit to bless them with artistic talent. The third group is exemplified by King David. David was a "man after the Lord's own heart." He was blessed not only with musical talent, military prowess, and numerous other gifts, but he had a fervent desire to use his gifts to God's glory. The application of this lesson was that people who find themselves in the first group should strive to be in the third—to use their talents in the building up of God's Church and to God's glory. Those who find themselves in the second group should in every way possible support and encourage those in the third group.

The opening service was followed by the keynote address by Pastor Aaron Christie. During the presentation, he allowed for several group discussion sessions (which I thought were appropriate), but these ran long and, unfortunately, shortened Pastor Christie's comments. But to give you the gist of it, I've paraphrased some of his key points here:

1. Modern consumerist culture equates "what I like" with "what is good." In the Church, however, questions of taste are virtually irrelevant. We concern ourselves instead with excellence.
2. The discussion of contemporary music in worship did not begin when rock and roll was invented. This is an old question, and the solution is not a musical (or artistic) one.
3. The texts of worship—not musical styles—are of primary concern. The gospel of Christ should predominate our worship.
4. Let the congregation participate. Worship, unlike entertainment, is not a spectator sport. Don't force music that was written for a soloist into a participatory idiom.
5. Let the experience of the church be honored. The worship of the historical church did not come about arbitrarily, but with careful consideration, much God-given ability, artful application, and love for God.

At this early point in the workshop, I was incredibly encouraged. I would describe myself as somewhat resistant to contemporary worship. I love the old Lutheran hymns, and I see most contemporary worship groups as an attempt to discard with traditional hymns and worship styles. But "Hearts and Hands" proved to be a genuine attempt to take the modern into the traditional, rather than to replace the latter with the former.

Unfortunately, if the opening service and keynote address presented an entirely genuine, balanced, and scriptural approach to the arts in worship, portions of the workshop that followed failed to live up to that standard. In the following day and a half, there were several bands that led worship with very egocentric, musically trite, praise music. With the exception of Koiné, very little was fitting for congregational singing. And worst of all, one of the pastor's sermons encouraged unabashed consumerism with the themes, "I love this church" and "What's on the menu?" To top it all off, he used Acts 15 to imply that adhering to traditional worship and customs amounts to sinful legalism. I could sense that many attendees, myself included, were offended and even disgusted.

A gross misunderstanding of worship, coupled with Christian freedom untempered by Christian love, creates a dangerous environment—one in which I am convinced God-pleasing worship cannot survive. While the workshop got off to a wonderful start, set godly goals for itself, and featured some excellent speakers, there were a number of people there whose obvious intent was to "gather around them a great number of teachers to say what their itching ears want to hear" (2 Timothy 4:3). It perhaps seems judgmental of me to say that, but I do know this: 1) Satan is hard at work within the church, 2) some of the most outspoken supporters of contemporary worship were also the least knowledgable about worship, and 3) the same people showed little regard for legitimate concerns raised by other attendees or their own members.

There is a lot of work to do, folks. I am primarily addressing laymen, because an informed and active laity is worth its weight in gold. It's hard to say whether this all-out push towards contemporary worship is coming from the laity or the clergy. I suspect the latter. But just because we (i.e., laymen) do not wear frocks does not mean that we cannot read the scriptures and make informed decisions about music, worship, and art. Lutheranism is wonderfully democratic in that way; God's Word is the ultimate authority—not the church.

I hate to end on a downer. But the workshop was overall a positive experience, and I will conclude my review tomorrow.