Singing the Church's Song
Schalk, Carl F., Marty, Martin E.
Published by Augsburg Fortress Publishers
Schalk, Carl F. and Martin E. Marty.
Singing the Church's Song: Essays & Occasional Writings on Church Music.
Augsburg Fortress Publishers, 2020.
Project MUSE. muse.jhu.edu/book/73921.
For additional information about this book
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The Church Musician as
Steward of the Mysteries
It hardly comes as a surprise to most that in the midst of the confu-
sion generated, on the one hand, by proponents of a rigid repristination
of worship practices or, on the other hand, by the downright liturgical
stillness perpetuated by those determined to “sell” religion in the worst
possible way, there is equal confusion as to the role of the musician in
the life and worship of the church. Proponents on either side of this
great divide have radically different understandings of the role of music
in the Church. And if there is little agreement on the role of music in the
life and worship of the church, it is hardly surprising that there should
be so little agreement as to the role of the church musician.
Congregations are ambivalent as to what the church musician’s
role is or should be. Pastors— who are having their own identity prob-
lems—are not often too helpful. Schools that train church musicians are
criticized for not producing the kind of musicians the church “needs,”
although any distinction between needs and wants seems to be irrele-
vant. And most of all, church musicians themselves find they are betwixt
and between a variety of conflicting ideas and demands as to what they
should be about.
Requests from parishes seeking church musicians, conversations
with church committees wrestling with job descriptions for “directors
of celebration,” and visits with congregations trying to cope with the
perennial problem of finding competent choir directors and organists
all suggest that the confusion is widespread. Many pastors and congre-
gations are adamant that the head of the list must be “flexibility.” It is
This was first published in the Institute of Liturgical Studies (Valparaiso University)
Occasional Papers (1996). Reprinted by permission.]
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SINGING THE CHURCH’S SONG
hardly surprising that under such circumstances there is confusion and
frustration and, on the part of many conscientious musicians who see
service in the church as part of this calling, a simple concern for survival.
Paraphrasing Humphrey Appleby from another context, it is axi-
omatic that for church musicians simply to survive in many parishes,
“hornets nests should be left unstirred, cans of worms should remain
unopened . . . boats [should remain] unlocked, nettles ungrasped, [one
should] refrain from taking bulls by the horns, and [one must] resolutely
turn [one’s] back to the music.”1 Nor does one have to be complete-
ly cynical about the state of interpersonal relationships between many
pastors and church musicians to resonate with the advice given by one
battle-scarred church musician who suggested: “If you are not happy with
a minister’s decision, there is no need to argue him out of it. Accept it
warmly, and then suggest that he leave it to you to work out the details.”
What role should the church musician play in the life of the Church
today? What god is he or she to serve? Is it the god of religious individual-
ism, of congregational pragmatism, of musical dilettantism, or the god of
religion as fun and games? What exactly is the role that the church musi-
cian is called upon to fill in a time when, as Martin Marty has remarked,
those “who know least about the faith (seem to want to) determine the
most about its expression.”2
That the various answers to this question as they play themselves
out in parishes and congregations have given rise to confusion and con-
flict in many places is a fact of contemporary church life. This is true
whether the church musician’s title is choir director, organist, minister
of music, pastoral musician, director of celebration ministries, cantor, or
hired hand. It remains true that, regardless of one’s title, how one under-
stands—and how one’s pastor and congregation understand—what one is
about as a church musician often plays a more significant part than any
other factor in shaping one’s understanding and misunderstanding of
one’s role. Some titles may direct that understanding in more fruitful
paths; others may lead down ways that would be best avoided.
Among the welter of titles, let me suggest another, one with Biblical
overtones. It is that of steward. The author of the First Epistle of Peter
says it this way: “As each has received a gift, employ it for one another,
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THE CHURCH MUSICIAN AS STEWARD OF THE MYSTERIES
as good stewards of God’s varied grace . . . in order that in everything
God may be glorified through Jesus Christ (1 Peter 4:10-11). My Webster’s
Third New International Dictionary suggests that a steward is “one called to
exercise responsible care over possessions entrusted to him.” Perhaps a
little exegesis, or at least a gloss or two, might help here.
Called: Whatever the bureaucratic machinery is naming them these
days, the work of the church musician is a “calling,” a ministry. To be a
latter-day psalmist—a leader of the people’s song, a steward of the mys-
teries, standing in the succession of Heman, Asaph, Ethan, Azariah,
Chenaniah, and all the Levites mentioned in 1 Chron. 15—is a calling
worthy of our best efforts.
Responsible care: To be responsible implies that we are able to be trust-
ed and depended upon, that we are personally accountable—accountable,
that is, first to the one who has given us this great gift of music. Such
“responsible care” includes both the conservation and the development
of the gift. The church musician preserves the gift of the Church’s mu-
sical heritage and at the same time moves it forward. Many present-day
problems that church musicians encounter may be found exactly at this
juncture. Where the emphasis is rather exclusively on one or the other of
these—either on an exclusive preoccupation with preservation or repris-
tination or, on the other hand, on a self-serving preoccupation with the
present or movement toward the future apart from one’s heritage—prob-
lems are sure to erupt.
Over possessions entrusted: Of all the gifts given to the Church, music
should, according to Luther, be given the highest place next to theology:
“music is an endowment of the gift of God, not a gift of men. . . . I place
music next to theology and give it the highest praise.”3 Music is a great
gift given to the Church for the praise of God and the proclamation of
his Word to the world. As a gift entrusted to our care, we are called to use
it with care and with responsibility. Responsible care certainly includes a
knowledge of the art of this great gift. As the author of 1 Chron. reminds
us, Chenaniah, leader of the Levites in music, was appointed to direct
the music, “for he understood it.”4
How does all this work its way out in the daily calling of the church
musician? How is one a careful and responsible steward in the course
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of one’s daily work as a parish church musician? Let me make four ten-
tative suggestions for the church musician as responsible steward of the
mysteries.
As a church musician, one is a responsible steward of the mysteries
when one understands that the Church—before it is anything else—
is a worshipping community.
We begin with what should be rather self-evident. The church is
first of all a community of the faithful gathered about Word and Sacra-
ment to receive strength and nourishment for its life together and for
the sake of the world. But in many parishes worship is a peripheral—or
at best, penultimate—activity, as the priorities of time, talent, and energy
are given over to a host of important, but secondary, matters. Too many
parishes with sanctuaries now designated as “Worship Centers” are, in
reality, centered in activities other than worship. One may argue about
the priorities of the tasks the Church has been given to do—education,
mission, evangelism, stewardship—but about what the Church is, first
and foremost, there should be no argument. It is a worshipping commu-
nity gathered around Word and Sacrament.
In that worshipping community music plays an important part in its
corporate proclamation and praise. And at the center of its music-mak-
ing stands the church musician, the latter-day psalmist who nurtures
and carries forward the church’s musical tradition. Church musicians
are faithful and responsible stewards as they teach, encourage, nurture,
and help congregations—sometimes even reluctant congregations—to a
fuller, richer, and deeper celebration and understanding of the faith.
The joining of music with Christian worship was hardly the result of
historical concern for the faith, joined together with an understanding
of the power of music to move our minds and hearts. In theory, the wed-
ding of music and worship appears to be a wedding of convenience; in
practice it is the unavoidable result of the new life in Christ. In theory, it
may be possible to imagine Christian worship devoid of song; in practice
the Christian community fills its gatherings with psalms, hymns, and
spiritual songs. As Luther once remarked, “God has cheered our hearts
and minds through His dear Son. . . . He who believes this earnestly
cannot be quiet about it. But he must gladly and willingly sings”5 (empha-
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THE CHURCH MUSICIAN AS STEWARD OF THE MYSTERIES
sis mine). The history of the worshipping Christian community is the
history of a singing and music-making community. We cannot imagine
it otherwise.
The church musician is a responsible steward of the mysteries when
she understands that music in corporate worship is a vehicle for the
common praise and prayer of the entire worshipping assembly.
The Church is a community gathered by the Spirit and convinced
that Jesus Christ is in its midst as his Word is preached and as the sacra-
ments are celebrated and shared in the mutual conversation and song of
the faithful. In a very practical sense, music is the glue that helps hold
together the action of the liturgy, that gives it more discernible shape and
form, and that projects in a unique way its varying moods and emphases.
Music is a uniting force when it helps the Christian community focus
its attention where it belongs—on Christ and what he has done for us.
Music becomes a dividing force when its focus is on lesser or secondary
concerns—or on musicians as performers, or on the congregation as a
group to be entertained or manipulated.
Music for the common praise and prayer of the community involves
both the music the congregation actually sings, as well as—for want of a
better term—the art music of choir and organ. As to congregational song,
be it settings of the liturgy, hymnody, or psalmody, music for the con-
gregation must, on the one hand, be capable of being sung. But, on the
other hand, congregations are generally more capable musically than we
tend to give them credit for. To be sure, music exists in worship not for
the sake of the musicians, but for the sake of the people; at the same time
to affirm that music in worship is for the sake of the people does not im-
ply a license or an excuse for the perpetuation of inanely simplistic music
just because it is supposedly “singable” by a congregation. One goal of
a good congregational melody—whether liturgical or hymnic—is to help
stretch the congregation beyond what they thought might be possible,
and in so doing help them to achieve and embrace a richness and depth
of Christian experience and expression they never thought possible. Suc-
cessful settings of the liturgy, hymnody, and psalmody do just that.
The music of so many “new” liturgies seems to perpetuate the notion
that congregations are incapable of anything beyond the simplest and most
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boring snippets of melody. On the other hand, some musical settings seem
to suggest that the composer has had little ongoing contact with singing con-
gregations and has written choir or concert music in which the congregation
is assigned a role, but, because of its complexity, has little chance of achiev-
ing successful participation. Exactly where one draws the line between the
inanely simplistic and stretching people too far is a matter of experience and
informed judgment. But that is part of the task of the church musician, part
of his stewardship, and those whose eyes are focused on the common prayer
of the people will be on the way to making the right judgments.
The church musician is a responsible steward of the mysteries when
he understands that music in the Lutheran tradition finds its most
comfortable home in the liturgy.
It is in the liturgy in all its richness and fullness that God’s people
can best express their common worship and praise. For Luther, certainly,
and for Lutherans at their best, music in worship is liturgical song. The
church musician understands that it is the liturgy—that living tradition
of praise, proclamation, prayer, and mutual edification—that disciplines
our use of music and best determines how it is used in worship and for
specific occasions.
For organists this means giving greater attention to playing the litur-
gy and hymnody with care and confidence in order that the people might
sing with greater understanding, vitality, and enthusiasm. For choirs it
means giving primary attention to psalmody, hymnody, responses, verses
and offertories, Gospel motets, music to enrich congregational singing,
and less attention to so-called “special music,” which generally interrupts
and intrudes into the liturgy. For this to happen where presently it does
not will necessitate a dramatic change of attitudes and priorities—first of
all, perhaps, a change of attitudes and priorities in the thinking of many
church musicians who sometimes come with other agendas, and certain-
ly a change of attitudes and priorities among pastors and congregations
where they have come to expect music in worship to serve a variety of
other concerns. Patiently and winsomely helping that change to occur is
part of the faithful stewardship of the church musician.
As the sixteenth-century church of the Reformation dealt with the
matter of the relationship between congregational song and art music
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THE CHURCH MUSICIAN AS STEWARD OF THE MYSTERIES
in worship, it found a middle way. The Lutheran church was the heir
of a Western Catholic tradition, which had placed great emphasis on
art music and had little, if any, place for simple congregational song.
It also existed in the midst of a developing Reformed tradition, which
placed great emphasis on simple congregational song and had essential-
ly no place for art music of any kind. Luther’s genius was to welcome
both—simple congregational song and art music of the most sophisticat-
ed kind—to the liturgy, and to unite them on the basis of the Lutheran
chorale, the people’s song of the Reformation, which provided the link
and was the unifying factor in so much of the music that flourished in
the centuries following the Reformation. Here was music for the liturgy,
which provided opportunity for participation by people at every level
of their ability: congregation, choir, organist, instrumentalist, composer.
This uniting of simple congregational song and art music was not
simply a practical solution to an immediate problem. Rather, it was a
practice that emerged from a distinctive theological understanding of
music as a gift, music as doxological proclamation and praise, music as
liturgical song, and music as the song of royal priests, as those ideas
worked out their way in the regular worship of God’s people. A confes-
sional faith does not simply result in generalized abstractions as it deals
with matters of worship; rather, it has practical ramifications in terms
of what we do when we worship. A closer acquaintance with our rich
musical heritage and practice as Lutherans might well help guide church
musicians today through the treacherous waters of contemporary church
life and musical practice where the luring calls of contemporary Loreleis
too frequently lead only to liturgical and musical shipwreck.
The church musician is a responsible steward of the mysteries when
she understands that God is praised and people are edified when the
Word is proclaimed through texts, which speak the Gospel clearly
and distinctly, and through music, which in its honesty, integrity,
and craftsmanship reflects that same Gospel.
Not to care enough about what is sung is to neglect the Church’s
concern for music as viva vox evangelii, as the “living voice of the Gospel.”
Not to care enough about the musical vehicle for that proclamation and
praise is to forget that music is God’s gift to us to be used to the best of
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our ability in his praise and for his glory. Our common praise demands
uncommon musical vehicles. Uncommon musical vehicles must not be
confused or equated with either complexity or difficulty. The truly great
songs of the Church share traits that make them simultaneously uncom-
mon and truly popular: texts that speak of the heart of our faith, and
music that reflects the character of faith in its simplicity, directness, suit-
ability to its function, and in its careful craftsmanship.
The church musician’s task is twofold. She must help people to see
the difference between texts that speak the Gospel clearly and distinctive-
ly, and those that blur its witness. And she must also help people see the
difference between music that reflects the character of the Gospel in the
honesty and integrity of its craftsmanship, and music that is too ready to
sacrifice those characteristics for other more immediate goals.
For a church musician to see no significant theological difference
between such a rich text as Jaroslav Vajda’s “Christ Goes Before” and
“I Have Decided to Be a Christian,” a blatant contradiction of Luther’s
explanation of the Third Article of the Creed in his Small Catechism,
is to avoid the first of these two tasks. For church musicians to suggest
that there is no real musical difference between, for example, Sine No-
mine, and many of this week’s favorites in the “contemporary Christian
music” category, is to avoid the second task and indulge in our own kind
of musical deconstruction, which ultimately concludes that there are no
objective standards at all. This is not to set up a false choice between a
populist view and an elitist view, between music for its own sake and
music for the people’s sake; rather, it is a concern for music and words
for the Gospel’s sake.
We live in a time when an unprecedented number of new texts,
both liturgical and hymnic, are being written and are readily and easily
available for congregational use. Many such texts come out of traditions
or have developed from causes with presuppositions often at variance
with confessional Lutheranism, and in some cases, with the stance of
historic Christianity. In some cases their authors are among the most
heralded in our day. Where texts are in fact at variance with the historic
faith of the Church, the church musician must be ready to say clearly
and forthrightly that—despite their popularity or their politically correct
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THE CHURCH MUSICIAN AS STEWARD OF THE MYSTERIES
stance—such texts are wanting, that the emperor, so to speak, has no
clothes. To see—and help others to see—that some texts speak the Gospel
clearly and distinctly, and that others blur its witness, is part of the stew-
ardship of the church musician.
But there must also be a concern for the music of worship. Not every
piece of “religious” music may be suitable for use in the liturgy. Here it
is the liturgy that must discipline our choices and ultimately determine
use and suitability. Where church musicians begin to make a distinction
between generally “religious music” and music for liturgical worship,
repertories (in many situations) and congregational expectations will
necessarily have to change.
This generation has also seen the emergence of a large number of
church musicians who see as part of their vocation the composing of new
music for worship. This has been a tremendous blessing for the Church,
and the Church has been greatly enriched through their efforts. But it is
also incumbent on those who are so talented to remind themselves of the
dangers and pitfalls to which all of us who write music for the Church
are susceptible. The lack of attention to the study of one’s craft, the
striving of the easy effect, the subtle notion that piety can somehow sub-
stitute for competence, or that cleverness and flair can replace mastery
and skill—all these are very real temptations for young or old composers
for the Church. Artistic morality presupposes skill at one’s craft, but it
also involves being worthy of one’s heritage by both nurturing it and by
extending it through the creation of music of commensurate emotional
and intellectual rigor.
One more thing needs to be said, and that involves the crucial rela-
tionship between church musicians and the pastors. No one has said it
better than A. R. Kretzmann, who some years ago reminded us all that
doxology is the name of the game, and that “If we [pastors and church
musicians] are to rise to the heights of a common doxology, we must rise
together,”6 because it is in the corporate worship of the assembly that
we share a ministry of proclamation, praise, and nurture centered in the
Gospel of Jesus Christ. Against the common notion that the work of
the church musician is simply that of a “hired hand,” Kretzmann speaks
clearly and forthrightly:
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The “whole” man is redeemed by Jesus Christ and the
“whole” man responds to the message. The two media,
preaching and music, are thus not only culturally and
aesthetically involved, but they have a proclaiming and
theological dimension which can hardly be estimated unless
we have fallen prey to the popular but erroneous feeling that
the “spoken” Word is the thing.7
Such an understanding, he reminds us, ought to draw pastors and
church musicians together in dialog and understanding as nothing else
can. It is the same Gospel that should sound out with equal clarity from
both pulpit and choir loft, from both the chancel and the organ. There
is no need to expand the distance that often is found between pulpit and
choir loft into a great impossible gulf. Where this happens, Kretzmann
advises us, search for the reason: “Who has forgotten the Gospel, and
why has it happened? Can you explain moods and temperaments in the
light of the cross? Has the congregation come to expect tensions born of
pride? Why should there be pride when the only interest is the glory of
God?”8 The list of questions could go on.
One could speak no better words in conclusion than those of Austin
Fleming, who has caught the spirit of the church musician as steward of
the mysteries better than anyone. Speaking directly to the church musi-
cian, he reminds each of us that
• Yours is a share in the work of the Lord’s Spirit who draws
us together into one, who makes harmony out of discord,
who sings in our hearts the lyric of all that is holy.
• Yours is the joy of sounding that first note which brings
the assembly to its feet ready to praise God.
• Yours is none other than the Lord’s song; you draw us into
that canticle of divine praise sung throughout the ages in
the halls of heaven.
• You help us respond to God’s word, to acclaim the Gospel;
to sing of our salvation in Christ.
• Yours is a ministry that gathers our many voices into one
grand choir of praise.
• Come to your work from your personal prayer.
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THE CHURCH MUSICIAN AS STEWARD OF THE MYSTERIES
• Let your rehearsals begin with prayer in common, let your
practice be marked by unanimity in spirit and in ideals.
• Be gentle in correcting one another: the kingdom will not
fall on a flatted note.
• Open the choir to those whom the Lord has blessed with
musical gift; help the not so gifted to discern the talents
that are theirs.
• Take care to study the Scriptures for the liturgy in which
you will serve; know well the word that calls for our praise.
• Let the lyrics of your songs be strong, true, and rooted in
the scriptures; those who sing the Lord’s word sing the
Lord’s song.
• Make no room for the trite, the maudlin, the sentimental.
• Open your hearts and voices to new songs worthy of God’s
people at prayer.
• Let your repertoire change as all living things must, but
not so much that the song of God’s people is lost.
• Be ambitious for the higher gifts, but not beyond your
gifts; respect the range of talent the Lord has given you
and your community.
• Let your music be always the servant of the Lord, of God’s
people, of the divine service they offer.
• Let the service of our music always complement but never
overshadow the people’s prayer.
• Let your performance become a prayer, and your art a gift.
• Let technique become no idol, but simply a tool for honing
the beauty of your gift. Remember that your ministry is
ever an emptying out of yourself; when the solo is assigned
to another, let that singer’s offering become your prayer.
• When no one comments on the new motet, be thankful
that your work led the people to God and not to you.
• Waste no time wondering, “Do you think they like it?” but
ask at all times, “Did it help them and all of us to pray?”
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SINGING THE CHURCH’S SONG
• When your ministry leads you to music, it has led you
astray.
• When your ministry leads you to the Lord, it has brought
you home.
• When your brothers and sisters thank and praise you
for your work, take delight in the song their prayer has
become, and rejoice in the work the Lord has accomplished
through you.
• Be faithful in the work you do, for through it the Lord
saves his people.9
Notes
1
Humphrey Appleby, Yes, Prime Minister (Sidney: Doubleday, 1988), entry for 10
January.
2
Martin E. Marty, “Dead End for the Mainline?” Newsweek (Aug. 8, 1993): 48.
3
Ewald M. Plass, What Luther Says (St. Louis: Concordia, 1959), 980.
4
1 Chron. 15:22.
5
Martin Luther, Luther’s Works, American edition, vol. 53. Liturgy and Hymns, ed.
Ulrich S. Leupold (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1965), 333 (preface to the Babst hym-
nal [1545]).
6
A.R. Kretzmann. “The Pastor and Church Musician: A Constant Doxology,”
Church Music 70. no. 2 (1970): 8–11.
7
Ibid., 8.
8
Ibid., 9.
9
Austin Fleming, Yours Is a Share: The Call of Liturgical Ministry (Washington, D.C.:
The Pastoral Press, 1985), 16–20.
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