How communal singing disappeared...or has it?

http://www.theatlantic.com/entertainment/archive/2012/03/how-communal-singing-disappeared-from-american-life/255094/#disqus_thread

Be sure to scan deep into the comments section.

Whoa! I agree completely

This post from Jonathan Leeman and David Leeman says great stuff about building a hearty congregational voice. If you are interested in great church music, please read this. Let's all apply gentle pressure till we get there. The Leemans write for 9MarksJournal and the article can be read at:

http://www.9marks.org/journal/my-congregation-barely-sings-how-can-i-help

Sing, sing, sing

Consider singing antiphonally; beautiful gender differences

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iE_tuMpIOho

Antiphonal singing, according to the editors of Encyclopedia Britannica, is alternate singing by two choirs or singers. "Antiphonal singing is of great antiquity and occurs in the folk and liturgical music of many cultures. Descriptions of it occur in the Old Testament. The antiphonal singing of psalms occurred both in ancient Hebrew and early Christian liturgies; alternating choirs would sing—e.g., half lines of psalm verses," the encyclopedia says.

Here is Michael Card's Immanuel from 2007, and it can teach us to magnify Jesus' name by showing off our diversity (children, teenagers, male and female in this case), while still maintaining unity. Consider asking just the children of your church to sing a verse in worship, or that old-fashioned method, "Men on verse two, women on verse three." Better yet, switch it up at an appropriate place in the middle of a verse. The result is a moving reminder of our rich differences in gender and age, yet still unified.

This Christmas, carol in congregational voice

My wife and I attended Asheville Symphony's "A Classical Christmas" this afternoon. The Gospel shimmered in the Asheville Symphony Chorus's singing of the Christmas section of Handel's Messiah, then climaxed with a sing-along, in which the 70-member chorus and the full orchestra led us in three carols. Those are some capable musicians cranking it up for 2400 congregants. We sang "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen," "The First Noel," and "Hark, the Herald Angels Sing," and the result was emotional with a buzz in the crowd. Encouraged to sing vigorously, up tempo, and robustly, 2470 citizens of Asheville rose to the occasion. I was in the fourth row, and I could see the visceral reaction of the conductor and the people around me.

Carol singing in Kenilworth
neighborhood, Asheville,
on December 15

This is a small example of the power of congregational singing, when the people are given familiar songs that stir spiritual beliefs and feelings through memory, where the accompaniment is deft, and the tempo is upbeat. If these things are provided to singers, and if people sing enthusiastically, the congregational voice itself will be the apex of worship celebration.

We need to hear ourselves sing

The author, far left, singing
among birch walls in Iowa in the 1950s.

We all have one thing in common in congregational singing: we need to hear ourselves sing. This is something we experience when we take a morning shower. A person doesn’t need a great voice to appreciate that little worship service. Other members of the family often want to turn down the volume or switch it off altogether, but if they would join in and get the whole house rockin', they’d understand how fulfilling such a song service can be.

My own experience in congregational singing began not in a shower stall but in a corrugated, un-insulated steel airplane hanger in Iowa. Pews were made of cross-legged wooden benches—no backs. Dad was pastor, was musical, loved to sing and loved hearing the congregation sing. That building was built both for a single-engine Piper Cub and unwittingly for congregational singing. No matter whether it was the roar of a pre-WWII opposed-piston radial engine or the singing of “Holy, Holy, Holy,” the room resonated. It was fun to sing there, and we loved to hear the hymns we sang together.

Later that same congregation built a Quonset sanctuary made of rough-cut river birch, which lined the interior walls. As the birch aged it turned beautiful to the eye, beautiful to the ear, and hard—hard enough so that you couldn’t hammer a spike into it. The ceiling was acoustical tile. Pulpit furniture, the communion table and pews were constructed of white oak. It had warmth, like that of a violin or cello. Because the room was built like a stringed instrument (made of wood but having no padding on the inside), singing there was nearly perfect, and it was fun. The birch walls sang with us.

Many years later my family moved to St. Louis. The church we joined met in a sanctuary with hard floors, a hard ceiling, hard walls and hard pews. Even the extra seats in the back were steel folding chairs. For sure, there was no trouble hearing ourselves sing, but whispers turned to voices, voices to shouts, and the piano squeaked like a poorly aimed electric speaker. A little bit good, but not exactly what we were looking for.

Because the church was growing, we needed a new building and veered to the other extreme. The session hired an architect who apparently had little or no experience in congregational singing. He proposed giving us cushioned pews, sound-absorbing walls, an acoustical tile ceiling, and piled carpets. Our congregation heard of his plans, voted on it and suggested otherwise. But the session overruled us. I’m all for sessional church government, but in this instance they were flat wrong. Singing (or attempting to sing) in this sanctuary turned out to be, not surprisingly, pretty bad. We sang to ourselves. There was no resonance at all because the room was designed for performance. Electric guitars, mikes for the worship team, and the little padded cage for percussion did OK, but the single most important component of music in worship—congregational singing—was a disaster.

A good theology of music should be incorporated into the architect’s blueprints. It should include a plan that assists the congregant to hear himself, herself, and everyone else, sing. That would be enjoyable, encouraging and edifying.

I’m not suggesting a rock canyon, echo chamber or band box. But there oughta be a law. The law would mandate that every sanctuary be made of rough-cut river birch. Then we could hear ourselves sing.

This is a contribution from my brother, Mark Belz, who lives in St. Louis, Mo.

Redemptive sweep in singing

The Creation, Fall, Redemption framework can guide song selection for next week's worship service. It did not dawn on me until last summer, after reading Rhythms of Grace, an excellent book (2013) by Mike Cosper, that this basic framework applies to the selection of songs in worship.

Sometimes we add the category of Consummation to Creation, Fall, Redemption. I propose adding a few other categories as well, for planning church music:

Creation

Fall

Exile

Confession

Repentance

Pilgrimage

Redemption

Consummation

We can sing songs from every category. By tending to the entire spectrum of redemption, we meet worshipers where they are. We bring hope to people who are down and out by offering them songs that deal with their failure, sin and despair. These might be songs of exile, like “O Come, O Come Emmanuel.” For songs of pilgrimage, “Lead Me, Guide” and “Wayfaring Stranger” are excellent choices.

The Psalms, which Martin Luther called “the little Bible,” offer this rich range of musical response and lament. The best way to get at the range of redemptive history in music is to sing the Psalms. I remember at boarding school how the teenagers used to choose “In Silence My Soul Is Waiting” a 1973 rendition of Psalm 62 by Michael Seward:

In silence my soul is waiting

is waiting for God alone

deliverance from him is coming,

my rescuer, fort, and rock.

In silence my soul is waiting;

secure, I shall not be moved.

But it gets darker:

Just puffs of the wind, the people,

great men are illusions, all;

as breath in the air, they’re measured,

then weightless they fade away.

Be silent, my soul, in waiting;

secure, I shall not be moved.

On dark winter nights in Iowa, the kids would sing this and many other songs, and I think it encouraged their hearts to know that there was a place (church) where they could express disillusionment. That’s what singing the whole redemptive sweep does.

Remember, though, that settling on just one area of the redemptive story impoverishes worship. For example, if you choose only songs about creation, and fail to sing about the offense of the cross, you will miss the power of the Gospel. And worship will be weakened if you only sing happy songs about heaven. Remember the whole redemptive story in congregational singing.

"But, oh, the voices!"

Read the entire (well worth it) Gospel Coalition article:

http://thegospelcoalition.org/blogs/thabitianyabwile/2013/09/12/learning-to-sing-together-in-new-zealand-and-zambia/

Here's a sample from Thabiti Anyabwile, a Grand Cayman pastor after a trip to Zambia:

"Zambia provided a really different and equally edifying experience. In Zambia there was hardly any musical accompaniment at all. Whether we were in rural Chirundu worshiping under a tree or in the major city of Lusaka singing at the beautiful Lusaka Baptist Church building, the emphasis was almost entirely on the human voice. The role of the individual leader was more pronounced. No praise teams up front, just a lone elder announcing the hymns. Usually a sister in the congregation sounded the opening words and set the tune, then the congregation joined in. Time was often kept with energetic clapping, especially in the rural gatherings. But, oh, the voices! Sometimes in Bembe or Nyanga, sometimes in English, but always ringing out with joy to the Lord. We were swept up in the rushing sound. And when the congregation did not stand and deliver, the worship leader set things to right. It’s been a long, long time since I’ve seen a leader stop the congregation mid-verse, rebuke them for lackluster effort, and re-start the hymn from the top. But one young brother did exactly that. And the amazing thing to us is that we thought they were singing beautifully already!"