 |
|
    |
 |
||
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
I have some thoughts about that. One is to acknowledge the difficulties that have come from power inequities and the clericalism of the church: where the rector or minister in charge has authority over the musician and often does not exercise that power in a collegial way. What would happen if the clergyperson (or liturgist) and musician approach one other with the mind of Christ? "Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness. And being found in human form, he humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross" (Phil 2:5–8 NRSV). For me, that might mean the death of my favorite hymn or the particular fraction anthem I like. Not such a great sacrifice after all! So, coming to one other in a place of humility—in all of our giftedness, but in a place of humility, which is how Christ arrived at the cross. Another thought is for the clergyperson (or liturgist) and musician to appreciate the complementarity of our competencies, knowing that from the dialogue between our gifts better, richer liturgy will emerge. Then we can stand together over against our culture's co-opting what the church is about, helping one another to be alert to the trend toward self-referential liturgy rather than liturgy that points to God; helping one another recognize when what is being put forward is really a restless search for self-fulfillment, or a desire to be successful in church growth, or a lack of trust in the attractiveness of Christ authentically proclaimed, or a reliance on feelings and sentimentality; helping one another in the ministry of providing bread, not stones, to a people hungering for God (see A. Daniel Frankforter's critique of contemporary worship in Stones for Bread). During the flight from Seattle, Mel and I each received something the airline had the nerve to call a meal tray. It was a bagel and a packet labeled "'Real' Cream Cheese." I thought, what is "real" cream cheese? What does "real" mean when it is in quotes? Clergy and musicians must stand together against the "ersatz-ification" (if I may make a word) that threatens to undermine the authenticity of who we are and what we do as church. We must establish values and goals for the community's worship in which to ground our planning endeavor—values and goals worthy of God's desire and people's yearnings. So our ministry should not consist of filling in one another's blanks on a liturgical outline, but should be carried out in an ongoing conversation grounded in agreed-upon values we have arrived at together, such as recognizing that the assembly owns the liturgy and we don't. (Maybe God owns the liturgy, but we clergy, liturgists, and musicians certainly don't.) Does our worship direct us toward God or is it all about us? Does it gather us into a body or is it individualistic? Is it capacious enough and sturdy enough and intentional enough to hold all of life's hopes, joys, griefs, and terrors brought by the people who come? Is it worthy of God and the assembly? Does it have discipline and rigor? Is it true to our theology? Does it reveal the theology it seeks to do and does it do the theology it seeks to reveal? Is it living? Is it energetic, authentic, vigorous, engaging? Is there a clarity of intent and action and symbol? Does it allow mystery? Is it prayer? Does it stand over and against culture? |
||||||
 |
||||||
|
Academics | Admissions | Alumni | Works | Listen | Look | Contact | Index | Home | Yale University
|