I was talking with a fellow church member--a really nice guy I would like to know better, but don’t yet know that well. He sings in the choir, and before long the topic of church music came up.
He told me he previously attended a church in another state where it was common to sing southern gospel. He said he misses it, and wishes that, just every now and then, the choir could do a little Southern gospel music.
For those of you who didn’t grow up with The Stamps, The Blackwood Brothers or The Happy Goodman Family on your record player, let me explain.
First of all, records were these flat black plastic disks that had a good song on the A side and mediocre song on the B side, and you played them on a contraption that had a spindle, turntable, arm and a needle. You can look records up on Wikipedia.
Southern gospel music was a variation of early rock n’ roll, country and bluegrass. It was like that sinful music, but because the lyrics were about Jesus and getting saved, it could be sung in church and tent revivals. In the days of my youth, southern gospel was performed usually by quartets (if male) or trios (if female), or any number if you happened to all be part of the same family tree. The music was usually up-tempo, often a capella, and with a big emphasis on harmony.
In a men’s quartet there was always a deep-deep bass and a high-pitched tenor. They all four dressed alike, except maybe the front man who did the talking between the songs. If most of the group wore baby blue suits with white shirts and ties, then the front man wore a white suit with baby blue shirt and tie. You get the picture.
The bass was tall and skinny. The tenor was usually as round as a Moon Pie. Finding matching clothes that ranged from a 32 x-tra long to a 54 short meant they shopped in stores and catalogs that really weren’t that stylish. That’s why The Oak Ridge Boys switched from southern gospel to country—to get clothes with sequins. Those of you old enough to know The Oak Ridge Boys will get that humor. And the rest of you--Wikipedia.
In a ladies’ trio there was a soprano, an alto and another songbird to fill in the gaps. What I remember about trios is that they always had terrific posture, big hair, and so much tremolo in their voices they could warble any sinner into submission and rouse a stone-faced deacon to shout ‘MERCY!’
Of course, evangelism and praise are what Southern gospel is all about. You can’t experience Southern gospel for more than few minutes without affect. For many it starts with tapping your toes, then before long you are smiling, then clapping your hands, then maybe moving your hips and shoulders a little. A Southern gospel concert will make you either run for the altar or run for the door, depending on your threshold for joy or pain.
Whether this form of music brings joy or inflicts pain is probably influenced by one of two factors—where you grew up, and how sophisticated you are. If you grew up in the south, then there is a good chance you have an affinity, or at least a tolerance for, good old southern gospel.
That is, unless you happen to be southern, but also sophisticated. If you are sophisticated, then you have no patience at all for southern quartets or trios, unless they happen to be playing violas or woodwinds.
My new friend from the choir knows this is true. When I offered that maybe, just maybe, our new minister of music would serve up some southern gospel from time to time, my friend dashed my attempt at encouragement with, “No, we’re too educated for that.”
He said it with a palpable sigh, which is ok because it is a sad thought. In fact, it is a two-word condemnation of what goes on between the ears of too many of us on a Sunday morning.
The words bounced around in my head for days afterward. Too educated. Too educated to sing that way. Too educated to listen. Too educated to worship the way those people do.
The idea that we are too smart, too sophisticated, too old, too comfortable or too much in love with tradition that we close ourselves off from any experience we don’t already know is at the heart of the worship tensions many churches struggle with, even split over.
Many churches today are programming like multiplex cinemas. In one room starting at 8:15 you’ve got your drums and guitars and the preacher wears a cool tee shirt. In another room at 9:45 you’ve got the piano and hand bells, a choir and a pastor who always reads from the KJV. In room three at 11 there is a praise team, words on a screen and the pastor sits on a stool and relates like Seinfeld.
As churches cluster around affinity groups, coagulate to reach a particular demographic, or congeal around a certain preferred style, how long until we just thicken, harden and die?
One of my favorite Psalms is 33, which says to:
Sing for joy.
Give thanks to the Lord with the lyre.
Sing praises to Him with a harp of ten strings.
Sing a new song.
Play skillfully with a shout of joy.
That psalm says to me that worship is enhanced by variety, by enthusiasm, by skillful artistry, by crudely shouting out and by trying something new or unfamiliar. What we need in our churches is not more segmentation that separates people based on tastes and expectations, but more variety that engages people from all walks of life, expands our shared experiences, and draws us together.
The very essence of education and developing an intellect is a healthy curiosity and an openness to try things that are unfamiliar. The truth is that we are not too educated for any particular style of music, we are too ignorant even to know what we are missing.
I would not want a steady diet of southern gospel at church, but I would love some of it. And I would also love some classical, some bluegrass, some jazzy horns, some Christian rock, some poetry, some dance, some children’s voices and some voices that crack with age.
Wouldn’t it be neat if the only things we were too educated for were complaining, criticism and insisting on our own way?
He told me he previously attended a church in another state where it was common to sing southern gospel. He said he misses it, and wishes that, just every now and then, the choir could do a little Southern gospel music.
For those of you who didn’t grow up with The Stamps, The Blackwood Brothers or The Happy Goodman Family on your record player, let me explain.
First of all, records were these flat black plastic disks that had a good song on the A side and mediocre song on the B side, and you played them on a contraption that had a spindle, turntable, arm and a needle. You can look records up on Wikipedia.
Southern gospel music was a variation of early rock n’ roll, country and bluegrass. It was like that sinful music, but because the lyrics were about Jesus and getting saved, it could be sung in church and tent revivals. In the days of my youth, southern gospel was performed usually by quartets (if male) or trios (if female), or any number if you happened to all be part of the same family tree. The music was usually up-tempo, often a capella, and with a big emphasis on harmony.
In a men’s quartet there was always a deep-deep bass and a high-pitched tenor. They all four dressed alike, except maybe the front man who did the talking between the songs. If most of the group wore baby blue suits with white shirts and ties, then the front man wore a white suit with baby blue shirt and tie. You get the picture.
The bass was tall and skinny. The tenor was usually as round as a Moon Pie. Finding matching clothes that ranged from a 32 x-tra long to a 54 short meant they shopped in stores and catalogs that really weren’t that stylish. That’s why The Oak Ridge Boys switched from southern gospel to country—to get clothes with sequins. Those of you old enough to know The Oak Ridge Boys will get that humor. And the rest of you--Wikipedia.
In a ladies’ trio there was a soprano, an alto and another songbird to fill in the gaps. What I remember about trios is that they always had terrific posture, big hair, and so much tremolo in their voices they could warble any sinner into submission and rouse a stone-faced deacon to shout ‘MERCY!’
Of course, evangelism and praise are what Southern gospel is all about. You can’t experience Southern gospel for more than few minutes without affect. For many it starts with tapping your toes, then before long you are smiling, then clapping your hands, then maybe moving your hips and shoulders a little. A Southern gospel concert will make you either run for the altar or run for the door, depending on your threshold for joy or pain.
Whether this form of music brings joy or inflicts pain is probably influenced by one of two factors—where you grew up, and how sophisticated you are. If you grew up in the south, then there is a good chance you have an affinity, or at least a tolerance for, good old southern gospel.
That is, unless you happen to be southern, but also sophisticated. If you are sophisticated, then you have no patience at all for southern quartets or trios, unless they happen to be playing violas or woodwinds.
My new friend from the choir knows this is true. When I offered that maybe, just maybe, our new minister of music would serve up some southern gospel from time to time, my friend dashed my attempt at encouragement with, “No, we’re too educated for that.”
He said it with a palpable sigh, which is ok because it is a sad thought. In fact, it is a two-word condemnation of what goes on between the ears of too many of us on a Sunday morning.
The words bounced around in my head for days afterward. Too educated. Too educated to sing that way. Too educated to listen. Too educated to worship the way those people do.
The idea that we are too smart, too sophisticated, too old, too comfortable or too much in love with tradition that we close ourselves off from any experience we don’t already know is at the heart of the worship tensions many churches struggle with, even split over.
Many churches today are programming like multiplex cinemas. In one room starting at 8:15 you’ve got your drums and guitars and the preacher wears a cool tee shirt. In another room at 9:45 you’ve got the piano and hand bells, a choir and a pastor who always reads from the KJV. In room three at 11 there is a praise team, words on a screen and the pastor sits on a stool and relates like Seinfeld.
As churches cluster around affinity groups, coagulate to reach a particular demographic, or congeal around a certain preferred style, how long until we just thicken, harden and die?
One of my favorite Psalms is 33, which says to:
Sing for joy.
Give thanks to the Lord with the lyre.
Sing praises to Him with a harp of ten strings.
Sing a new song.
Play skillfully with a shout of joy.
That psalm says to me that worship is enhanced by variety, by enthusiasm, by skillful artistry, by crudely shouting out and by trying something new or unfamiliar. What we need in our churches is not more segmentation that separates people based on tastes and expectations, but more variety that engages people from all walks of life, expands our shared experiences, and draws us together.
The very essence of education and developing an intellect is a healthy curiosity and an openness to try things that are unfamiliar. The truth is that we are not too educated for any particular style of music, we are too ignorant even to know what we are missing.
I would not want a steady diet of southern gospel at church, but I would love some of it. And I would also love some classical, some bluegrass, some jazzy horns, some Christian rock, some poetry, some dance, some children’s voices and some voices that crack with age.
Wouldn’t it be neat if the only things we were too educated for were complaining, criticism and insisting on our own way?
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