handmaid of religion." The problem is not a new one, and in a book written about a century ago the author says:[1]
The guiding rule which ought always to be present to the mind of a clergyman should also be held in mind by all good musicians who would help the church's object, and not employ the sacred building merely as a place where all kind of sounds that tickle the ear can be heard. All kinds of music are suitable for sacred use that do not raise secular associations. A Largo, an Adagio, a Grave, an Andante, an Allegro, a fugal or a non-fugal composition can all be performed in the Church but should one and all be of a staid and dignified character throughout, elevated and sober, and of such a nature that any preacher of note could say: "This splendid music is a fitting introduction to my discourse"; or "After such singing my lips had better be closed, and the spirit left to its own silent worship."
A distinguished modern writer voices the same thought in the following words:[2]
The singing of the choir must be contrived and felt as part of the office of prayer. The spirit and direction of the whole service for the day must be unified; the music must be a vital and organic element in this unit.
But in most churches music does not function in this ideal way and in many cases (especially in non-liturgical churches) there is no unity whatever in the service, and the music is evidently both performed and listened to from a purely art standpoint; or else it is so crude and inartistic as to be actually painful to the worshiper with refined sensibilities.
THE REMEDYWhat is to be the remedy for this state of affairs? Or is there no remedy, and must we go on, either enduring tortures artistically, or suffering spiritually? We are not omniscient, but we venture to assert that conditions might be caused to improve by the adoption of several changes of procedure that are herewith recommended.
- ↑ Thibaut, Purity in Music, translated by Broadhouse, p. 24.
- ↑ Dickinson, Music in the History of the Western Church, p. 401.
