Theology and Music

I should be getting to bed (I have to get up at 7:30 for Pilates class) but I wanted to write something about this topic, as it's one that interests me.

This morning I went to the Lutheran church where I sing in the choir during our regular season, because they were having a summer "pickup choir" and also because there was going to be a special program on Theology and Music.

It wasn't quite what I expected. To me "Theology and Music" means Bach, Handel, and the other great composers of sacred music, but this morning's fare was more contemporary. Mostly original songs written by members and friends of the congregation. Several of these were surprisingly moving in their authenticity. (I am usually not a fan of "popular music" of any kind.)

Although my parents were militantly atheistic, my mother often took me to churches to hear sacred music. She saw nothing odd about being a secular Jewish atheist and listening to the Messiah or the Bach Passions, or going to see the Play of Daniel, or spending time at the Metropolitan Museum looking at sacred art. She came from that generation of well educated first generation Americans (actually her mother was born in Philadelphia) who had been taught to revere "Western Civ". This included knowing Greek mythology and the Bible. A parable about Jesus, or the aria "I Know that My Redeemer Liveth" was no less beautiful than a "myth" about Athena or a statue of Apollo. None of this had anything to do with religion (if you weren't religious).

As an adult I always felt ashamed of my atheistic background (I was for years the only child in school whose answer to the question "what is your religion"? was "none") so as an adult I became a Unitarian. I had actually sung in a Unitarian choir as a teenager and remembered the services (and the music) to be as "old fashioned" as any Protestant service except that the word "Christ" was removed from the hymns and there was no Communion. But there was Handel aplenty and the church was a historic building.

Becoming a Unitarian as an adult, the church I attended was also a historic building but I was quite surprised to find that the mosaic of Jesus over the altar, which showed him washing the feet of the disciples, was often covered up with a curtain. Apparently people in the congregation found it offensive. I found this rather amusing, and no less "yokelish" (one of my mother's favorite words) than John Ashcroft wanting to cover up the naked statue of Justice. It was a work of art, no? People could interpret it as they saw fit. I was equally surprised that people were offended by my singing "I Know that My Redeemer Liveth" at Easter and even more surprised that they were surprised that I wanted to sing it.

I suppose it is odd in a way that as someone who grew up "Godless" I seem to have such an affinity for sacred music. Well, on the one hand, to me, anyhow, it has all the beauty and drama of opera (art songs leave me cold, for the most part, sorry) without the overtaxing range and volume. Also you can sing a selection or two and call it a morning. And you can sing in the morning which for me is a lot easier than singing at night (I simply don't understand how all the great singers can hit a "peak" vocally after 9 pm). And you sing on Sunday, which, when I worked in an office, was more convenient than trying to sing on a weeknight.

Eventually I left that Unitarian church over their decision to drastically curtail any classical sacred music in the services.

I was directed toward the Lutherans, as having the best music, liking bigger voices, and not insisting on choirs singing "straight tone".

And I would be lying if I didn't say that singing there for me has been some kind of spiritual experience, although I cannot always say what kind.

And now, since in three weeks I will be singing the heroic "Judgment Scene" from Aida in a Sunday concert, I really do need to get back to my regime of high protein, low sugar, and 8 hours of sleep at night.