A theory of Music...

I'm subscribed on YouTube to a certain right wing political and cultural pundit. He's only 25, and not even that brilliant. In fact I'm thinking of removing my subscription altogether because I've realised I only watch his videos for much the same reason that I managed to sit through three or four Twilight films (although he's no Robert Pattinson). Nonetheless I was intrigued when he posted a truncated version of this video to his Instagram feed. While he hasn't, to my knowledge, divulged anything about his actual religious beliefs, I imagine he's some kind of Protestant. He said he wanted to take part in something like this. His endorsement of this kind of music speaks volumes about his apparent lack of insight into what constitutes acceptable Christian worship. See if you can get through it to the end. I've watched the abridged version, which isn't available on YouTube, many times.

I've witnessed this kind of worship before. When I was at sixth form college the supposedly Catholic chapel was taken over on Wednesday afternoons by the prominent (or should I say dominant?) black Pentecostal community of Lewisham, who sang this and other songs like it. In a spirit of hilarious research, I went to a few of their meetings, sitting quietly at the back and wondering what made these people tick. At World Youth Day 2005, which took place in Cologne, I witnessed the same style of charismatic praise; people waving their arms, pointing to heaven, &c. I knew none of the songs; I suppose the most up-to-date hymn that I knew was Colours of Day! So my preferred manner of worship found no expression at all at that youth festival, presided over by the late Pope of the Liturgy. Ironically, at 17 I was probably the youngest person there and it was all wasted on me! Still, my impression of the 

black church, the youth festivals; all those young people caught up in the vain pulse and repetition of their music is much the same as my impression of the above video. They represent the antithesis of piety.

It reminds me of The Music of the Ainur. For those of you who have read Tolkien in-depth, that is to say you've slogged your way through The Silmarillion, you'll no doubt be familiar with the angelic chorus that set in motion the creation of the world. There are lots of theories of music underpinning that legend, not least the harmony of the spheres. For me, The Music of the Ainur is profoundly liturgical. The music is both an act of worship and a revelation. It begins with the Word, the teaching of God passed down (the "themes" of music). Then, in the same manner that worship is both didactic and revelatory, the Ainur sing to God of the themes propounded to them by Him, and God shows them their minstrelsy. Liturgy is made up almost entirely of Scripture, just like the legendary themes of music, so liturgical orthopraxis consists in returning to God what He has bequeathed to us already.

Against this is marshalled the power of Melkor. Melkor is Tolkien's diabolos, "he who arises in might." He was the greatest of the Ainur by far and in his search for the Secret Fire in the outer darkness strange thoughts came into his heart that were unlike those of the other Ainur. When they began their chorus, he started to weave these thoughts into the Music, which caused a great discord. Those that sang by him faltered and fell silent, but many attuned their music to his and the discord spread wider and wider. Tolkien describes the battle of sounds quite brilliantly:

"And it seemed at last that there were two musics progressing at one time before the seat of Ilúvatar, and they were utterly at variance. The one was deep and wide and beautiful, but slow and blended with an immeasurable sorrow, from which its beauty chiefly came. The other had now achieved a unity of its own; but it was loud, and vain, and endlessly repeated; and it had little harmony, but rather a clamorous unison as of many trumpets braying upon a few notes. And it essayed to drown the other music by the violence of its voice, but it seemed that its most triumphant notes were taken by the other and woven into its own solemn pattern." Ainulindalë, p.5.

There's even a reference to the problem of evil there! In some ways this one paragraph encapsulates the entire history of Middle-earth. The angelic chorus, those Ainur who remained faithful to the will of God, sang their deep, beautiful melodies which were of their nature sorrowful. You could be forgiven for thinking that a grand mythology like Tolkien's might be full of unrealistic hopes and whimsical happy endings. Actually the prevailing theme throughout is decay, defeat, loss and the subsequent yearning to redress that. That realism, even pessimism, is why it is so successful. It is the work of a man who has experienced real suffering. This suffering, of course, comes from the other music, the clamorous braying that wages war on the first.

Of course the sound and fury, signifying nothing represented by the discords of Melkor had a divine purpose (and one not intended by Melkor). But if the loud, vain and endlessly repeated music of the charismatic (probably millionaire) Baptist on stage, with his own braying choir and instruments, has a purpose, besides the reinforcement of the heresy that Justification comes from Faith Alone, I'm dumbfounded. Real Church music is didactic, seasonal, thematic. This is true of the ancient Latin hymns of Ambrose and Prudentius, among many others, and it is also true of the famous Troparion of Kassiani. These hymns are written in piety and attuned to the Church's liturgy. Whoever wrote "our God is an awsome god" was clearly someone who had abandoned all spiritual aspirations. It's materialistic, it revels in physicality and its design to impress. In this way, like Melkor, it wages war on the Church. How much could you tell me about Christianity, if you were entirely innocent thereof, by listening to it? "Our God" could be anyone!

As I said, I didn't subscribe to the young pundit for his wit or intellect! What do you think? Is this all gibberish?

Just ignore the weird gazing and listen. We're a tad early for the subject but this is the beauty of holiness spoken of by the Psalmist.