By: T. David
Gordon
As
I wrote concerning the predecessor of this book, Why Johnny Can't
Preach: The Media Have Shaped the Messengers
(reviewed above), the same goes for this one: I cannot recommend it
highly enough (P&R Publishing). I have read several books addressing this issue, but this one is
especially good. Gordon makes some observations that others overlook, which
we’ll come back to in a moment.
Gordon again knows what he is
talking about, since in addition to being currently professor of religion and
Greek at Grove City College, he has also taught in the humanities and media
culture. So, he doesn't make flippant remarks after a quick glance, rather
observations based on careful scrutiny.
The observation that struck me the
most profoundly was when Gordon pointed out today’s “insistence that many,
most, or all forms of worship,” especially music, must “be
contemporary.” This attitude is, in fact, unique to our day. Gordon goes
on to make his point, a point I've not heard anyone else make:
My father’s generation did not demand that all hymns be
written in big band idiom, and mine did not demand that they be written to
sound like Eric Clapton or The Who. So why do we now find something unique in
the history of the church: a considerable number of people who appear to
believe sincerely that it is not merely permissible, but in some sense
necessary or preferable to jettison hymns that previous generations employed?
Why? (pp. 42-43).
Now, taking that to its next
logical step, Gordon submits, in thirty years, when “the prevailing popular
musical idiom of our culture” might very well be “gangsta rap,” will we then
“be required to worship exclusively in this idiom” (p. 43)?
In the same vein, Gordon makes
another observation I've not read elsewhere, namely, “the criterion of
contemporaneity trumps all the criteria of all the hymnal-revision committees
that ever labored.” With very few exceptions, such committees throughout
history have weighed several factors in considering the merits of hymns,
including:
theologically orthodox lyrics; theologically significant
lyrics; literarily apt and thoughtful lyrics; lyrics and music appropriate to a
meeting between God and his visible people; well-written music with regard to
melody, harmony, rhythm, and form; and musical setting appropriate to the
lyrical content (p. 47).
Most, if not all those, however,
are thrown to the wind in today’s obsession with contemporaneity. “Only the
most artistically gifted (or arrogant) of generations could possibly imagine
that it could, in a single generation, be expected to produce a body of hymns
that surpassed all previous hymns and rendered them obsolete” (p. 47). As
Gordon observes elsewhere, “Ours is a contemporaneous culture—hook, line, and
sinker. Nearly all the mediating institutions of our culture regard the past
with contempt; the past is passé. We don't disagree with the past; we just pay
it no attention at all. It was primitive, it was pre-electronic, and ‘wouldn't
understand us today’” (p. 172). As is also true of historic doctrines,
historical truths, and historic texts of Scripture, the common attitude of our
day is that history is irrelevant, but we ignore it at our peril.
In an Appendix (pp. 187-88), Gordon
also includes an extremely helpful and revealing table, taken from Kenneth A.
Myers’ book, All God’s Children and Blue Suede Shoes: Christians and Popular
Culture (Crossway, 1989). In a two-column comparison, he dramatically
demonstrates the many differences between “Popular Culture” and “Traditional
and High Culture.” Just a few include: focusing on the new vs. focusing
on the timeless; emphasizing information and trivia vs. emphasizing
knowledge and wisdom; celebrating fame vs. celebrating ability;
appealing to sentimentality vs. appealing to appropriate, proportion
emotions; and, most notably, tending toward relativism vs. tending
toward submission to standards.
So, why does contemporaneity trump
everything else? Even more to the point, however, Gordon submits, “Why does
contemporaneity deserve to be included as a criterion at all, much less a
criterion more important than all of these?” In fact, he goes on to ask
something that is a truly scathing rebuke to the church today:
Why are there no signs outside churches that read:
“Theologically Significant Worship,” or “Worship Appropriate to a Meeting
between God and His Assembled People,” or “Worship That is Literarily Apt and
Thoughtful”? Why do the signs say “Contemporary Worship,” as though that
criterion were itself worthy of promoting? (p. 48)
Gordon
also addresses the issues of form and content. Can anyone honestly deny that
most contemporary music is basically superficial, often even trivial? Is such
superficiality, therefore, appropriate to such subjects as: “repentance,
sacrifice, obedience, and selflessness” (pp. 60–61)? “Would it make good sense,
for instance, to take the lyrics of something like ‘O God, Our Help in Ages
Past’ and put it into a contemporary-sounding musical form” (p. 60)?
This
is, I am convinced, a crucial point. I once heard Ligon Duncan ask a similar
question: “Did you know that metrically you can sing ‘Amazing Grace’ to the
tune of the old TV show ‘Gilligan’s Island,’ but would that be appropriate?”
Gordon
also makes a powerful point when he reminds us: “The very existence of the
expression sacred music once conveyed the notion that some music was
different from other music, intentionally different, different precisely
because it was devoted to a sacred (not common) cause” (p. 68, emphasis
Gordon’s).
Gordon
also takes on the popular adage, “This is just a matter of style. We like our
kind of music, and older people like their kind of music.” But, as he well
states, “traditional sacred music is not older people’s ‘kind of
music.’” Such music remained unchanged no matter what the popular music was
(such as the aforementioned big bands and The Who). “Such traditional forms are
not ‘our’ music; they are the church’s music, and they antedate us by
many generations” (pp. 75-76. emphasis Gordon’s).
Now,
I have only one major criticism of Gordon’s work. While I most certainly agree
that the guitar is the number one instrument of contemporary music, and while I
also agree that it is overused (that is, almost exclusively) and misused
(as in unskilled rhythmic strumming), I respectfully disagree that it is to be
anathema, a point he makes several times. (I would also certainly agree,
however, that the kazoo would be inappropriate, p. 50.) I have played the
guitar for 40 years and have used it respectfully and reverently in churches.
Gordon admits that he is not a musician, so to say that Martin Luther’s great
hymn, “A Mighty Fortress is our God,” cannot be accompanied on a guitar (p. 99)
is a bit silly. It most certainly can, and I have done so. It is written in 4/4
time and a soft, smooth pick-pattern is quite reverent.
This
reminded me of a situation a
preacher friend of mine once faced. Part of his ministry at the time was music,
of which his guitar was a part. A certain pastor came to him one day and said,
“I couldn't allow you to come to my church because you use a guitar.” My friend
asked why and the answer followed, “Oh, because it's a stringed instrument, and
we feel that those are worldly.” My friend lovingly asked him, “Well, then, do
you have a piano in your church? It, too, is a stringed instrument.” The pastor
was noticeably taken off guard and blurted out his answer, “Well . . . yes, but
you can't see the strings.”
I
would humbly submit here that the problem often is not the instrument itself,
but rather the incompetence of the one playing it. I am by no means a great
guitarist, but I do know how to play it appropriately. Is the piano a classical
instrument? Of course it is, but can it not also be used to play honky-tonk?
Likewise, in the right hands a guitar is also a classical instrument, while,
granted, in the wrong hands it is worse than inappropriate.
That
aside, Gordon’s overall arguments (IMHO) are compelling. He recounts an incident with which I will close
this review. His former colleague, author and professor David Wells,
encountered a seminary student one day at the photocopier. Wells was copying a
draft of the book he was writing: Above All Earthly Pow’rs: Christ in a
Postmodern Word (Eerdmans, 2005). The student thought the title interesting
so Wells told her it was from Luther’s hymn, to which she replied that she was
not familiar with it. “Imagine,” Gordon writes incredulously, “a student at a
theological seminary who has never heard ‘A Mighty Fortress is our God!’”
That
does, indeed, underscore where the church is headed. If we keep going the way
we are now, how long will it be before other great hymns not only vanish from use
but even from our memory?