I know it’s crazy. I see the headlines: More Churches Closing! Jerusalem Under Siege! Jeremiah Buys Real Estate! Why am I not writing something practical, something Presbyterian, like “Stretch Those Shrinking Resources,” or “Is Your Committee a Team?”
But then it hits me. It’s when the Egyptian army is lining up the chariots that Miriam packs her tambourine; it’s when David is hiding out in a cave that he composes a psalm; and it’s when the jail door slams shut behind them—and an unconcerned Philippi goes about its daily business—that Paul and Silas sing. When all the soul-searching, all the visioning, all the restructuring is done, and the committees have submitted their reports, it still comes back to loving, worshipping and enjoying God. And, if the biblical witness is to be believed and beloved, that involves the simple, subversive, countercultural act of singing together.
And so today, with Advent upon us, I sing the praises of a few more hymns.
Fred Kaan’s “Tomorrow Christ is coming” (#131) is one I keep using. Besides the challenge of singing hymns appropriate to a season that is always taking a back seat to Christmas, this one is so sober, earnest. Downbeat, even. But I keep thinking that the images are so powerful, and Kaan’s vision of Advent is so contemporary that we have to sing it.
So, this Advent, we’re going to play with it. We’ll present it as an introit, rather than a congregational hymn. We’ll sing it in unison and speed it up, giving it two pulses per measure rather than four. In place of the harmony, we’ll use instrumental drones, probably a small bagpipe, or even just the pipe’s chanter. We’ll add some grace notes so that it sounds like a Middle-Eastern folk song or an Indian raga. Finally, we’ll break the flow of the verses with instrumental interludes. This will give the congregation time to reflect on words like these:
this shall be the sign:
we shall find Christ among us
as woman, child or man.
“Comfort, comfort you, my people” (#113) is another of those “Genevan jigs” famously derided by Henry VIII’s most famous daughter. Its rhythmic verve is helped along by its simple harmony. Every chord but one is in its basic form, the root position. This gives the bass part a leaping quality that contributes to the dancing jig rhythm. (I often use it as a training piece for a bass section.) A choir, even an older junior choir, is an effective way of introducing this hymn. This hymn works either with a gentle lilt or with an all-out, pew-rocking beat. It can be used, not only as an introit, but as a response to either the Isaiah 40 scripture which it paraphrases, or one of the other Advent readings.
“Lo, Christ comes with clouds descending” also benefits from a quicker tempo. Look it up on YouTube, and you’ll hear it in full choral bliss, complete with trumpets, tympani and every visual cliché you’ll ever hope to see. I prefer the down-to-earth, “gallery band” treatment that you’ll hear on the Saydisc CD Sing Lustily and with Good Courage, which I reviewed in an earlier In Song column. A gallery band, or a band in the West Gallery tradition, was one of those village bands that Thomas Hardy wrote about in his novels. Google “west gallery music” and you’ll get the idea. It doesn’t take much. If you have a high school student with a tuba or a bassoon, or someone who plays snare drum in a pipe band, the whole tenor of the hymn changes, and along with it, the theology.
Yes, I’ll give to the bazaars and the drives and think about bequests. I’ll dutifully read about the raising of funds and the lowering of expectations. But it’s Miriam and her company of tambourine-whacking prophets who brings me back to church—and sends me out singing.
