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Wired for Song
I’m one of the strongest proponents of learning new music, and I thought I knew nearly everything in the Hymnal from cover to cover. So yesterday it came as a surprise to me when our Song of Praise was a setting of the Gloria from the 1982 Hymnal that, for all my years in the Episcopal Church, I had never once heard. (S-279, by Gerald Near, for those liturgically curious).
I vaguely remembered us talking about a new setting at Liturgy Meeting, and it seemed like a good idea at the time, but in the moment I felt completely adrift in a sea of notes. I know that with practice I could learn this, but at a first pass it felt like every note I tried was the wrong pitch and the wrong length. I looked out into the congregation, and it appeared that only about half of us had our hymnals even open and it seemed as though only about half of those who did were singing, so I didn’t feel quite so clumsy.
It was an uncomfortable experience but a good one for me to have, because I recognize it as one many people report when they are asked to learn new music in church. I don’t think the complaint is about learning new music per se, but about how it feels to ride without training wheels. Given that most of us have heard somewhere along the line from a teacher or relative that we should sing quietly or not at all, it’s not surprising that so many hymnals were closed during our Song of Praise.
But we are made to sing. We all know how to sing (and we LIKE to). The pentatonic scale is wired into our collective brain. I saw this most powerfully demonstrated by Bobby McFerrin at a neuro-science conference of all places. Rather than describe to you what he did, I will show you: Stop reading this to watch two very important minutes on YouTube:
St. Augustine has been often quoted as saying: “the one who sings prays twice.” That is: music is one of the most powerful languages of prayer and evokes levels of our being that words alone don’t. There is a huge cost to our prayer which we cannot afford when we do church with closed hymnals (unless they’re closed because we know the music by heart).
I’m sure one of the things we’ll be discussing at today’s Liturgy Meeting is how we take on the challenge of introducing new music in a large and formal gathering. We won’t be jumping around like Bobby McFerrin, but with the commitment to “singing a new song to the Lord” (Psalm 96) and to leading people in a such a way that they can confidently fill the room with their voices, I think we can create the same delight.
I vaguely remembered us talking about a new setting at Liturgy Meeting, and it seemed like a good idea at the time, but in the moment I felt completely adrift in a sea of notes. I know that with practice I could learn this, but at a first pass it felt like every note I tried was the wrong pitch and the wrong length. I looked out into the congregation, and it appeared that only about half of us had our hymnals even open and it seemed as though only about half of those who did were singing, so I didn’t feel quite so clumsy.
It was an uncomfortable experience but a good one for me to have, because I recognize it as one many people report when they are asked to learn new music in church. I don’t think the complaint is about learning new music per se, but about how it feels to ride without training wheels. Given that most of us have heard somewhere along the line from a teacher or relative that we should sing quietly or not at all, it’s not surprising that so many hymnals were closed during our Song of Praise.
But we are made to sing. We all know how to sing (and we LIKE to). The pentatonic scale is wired into our collective brain. I saw this most powerfully demonstrated by Bobby McFerrin at a neuro-science conference of all places. Rather than describe to you what he did, I will show you: Stop reading this to watch two very important minutes on YouTube:
Bobby didn’t teach people to sing --they knew how already. He taught them to sing TOGETHER. He used a method so simple and effective that anyone could follow and everyone did. It involved and encouraged learning and discovery along the way, not perfection before performance, and above all, it provoked delight. What Bobby showed was a beautiful instance of human collaboration, so beautiful in part because it is so heartbreakingly rare today.
One of our music associates, Marilyn Haskel, uses a similarly clear technique when she teaches new music at Trinity Church and St. Paul’s Chapel (take another YouTube break:
One of our music associates, Marilyn Haskel, uses a similarly clear technique when she teaches new music at Trinity Church and St. Paul’s Chapel (take another YouTube break:
What we keep discovering again and again is that people will follow the leader to a new place if they feel that sweet and exciting balance of challenge and support, spoken in a language they can intuitively understand.
St. Augustine has been often quoted as saying: “the one who sings prays twice.” That is: music is one of the most powerful languages of prayer and evokes levels of our being that words alone don’t. There is a huge cost to our prayer which we cannot afford when we do church with closed hymnals (unless they’re closed because we know the music by heart).
I’m sure one of the things we’ll be discussing at today’s Liturgy Meeting is how we take on the challenge of introducing new music in a large and formal gathering. We won’t be jumping around like Bobby McFerrin, but with the commitment to “singing a new song to the Lord” (Psalm 96) and to leading people in a such a way that they can confidently fill the room with their voices, I think we can create the same delight.
Feature image courtesy of Igor Staniszlo.
Posted July 26, 2010
Author: The Rev. Daniel Simons
Created: July 21, 2009
Worship is the single greatest investment of resources in any church's life, including Trinity Wall Street, and it is the primary lens that focuses our life together. Worship is a language that links us back through generations and yet is newly born in each moment!
This blog focuses more on primal patterns than technique --looking at how we are embodied souls needing to act out our faith. It is a reflecting pool for leaders of other congregations, for members of Trinity seeking to understand the patterns of the liturgy more fully, and for seekers who are aware of or interested in the power of ritual.
Trinity Wall Street | for a world of good
Comments
I love this. Becoming aware of learning together is a vital part of the worship experience. If we aren't embarking on a shared experience of learning, something dies. I find this is true whenever I listen to music or read a book. The best art includes a discovery not only for the viewer/reader/listener but also for the creator. Without that sense of discovery, art becomes propaganda. Similarly, when church is all about certainty, it ossifies. Coming together on Sundays to learn together is exactly what can revive us.
Jacob Slichter on July 29, 2010
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