FFM 2007 - Part 3

"People who know they're not home do not fence it off and dig in." So stated the Psalters as they began their presentation on the role of music in worship. For the church to re-envision its relationships to the land is to sing the travelling songs, the exodus psalms, as we move from one place, to the place where we have been called. Having recently returned from Turkey, a trip which led them into small, remote villages, the Psalters returned with a new song (5 in fact) that they had collected in their travels. After a long-ish lecture on the prophetic role of music in worship, we finally had a chance to do what I had thought we were there to do - to workshop some music. Playing five different tracks, mostly from the middle east, the Psalters took us through the music of lament, prophecy, and of joyful exhuberance. The discussion focused on the ways in which these particular pieces exhibited emotion (especially through their deep, gutteral, and at times pained voicings). The discussion ended up deciding, more or less, that western worship music is somehow less than authentic, because such songs, such utter abandon in the singing of the songs is not present in much of what we consider modern worship music in the west. Point taken. A great deal of our hymnody/mod worship can sound like the newest boy band single, except that we rarely, if ever, like the psalmist, ask God to "quit playing games with my heart." Just saying. Sappy rock ballads fit for radio, often with us as the focus where the focus could be God instead. But - and this is the question that Rob and Brian were kicking around afterwards - how faithful is it to appropriate someone else's music and to claim it as our own? Does it make sense to say "your music is more authentic, more deep, therefore we will adopt that form?" I don't know, but I suspect that when the prophets were railing against Israel (see Amos) about their weak, empty words, it wasn't just about music style, but about the honesty and truth behind their words. So. The question of appropriation. We live in a world where boundaries are being blurred, where people migrate rather frequently, and often from one side of the world to another. We bump up against other cultures, are influenced by them, and they with us. Surely taking Turkish music and calling it a more authentic expression of worship than, say, Matt Redman, is a false choice, especially in the face of hybridity of influence, and hybridity of cultures. But to create music, and to form an expression of worship influenced by some other culture is not fundamentally dishonest. Unless you're just doing it to be "relevant." Then, perhaps, you've got problems. If you're appropriating another cultural form, like the liberation songs of an African-American spiritual, but have no relationship to the story of such a hymn, have no relationship to the culture that birthed the song, can it become for you an authentic expression? I'm not sold on it, either way. That being said, I'm fairly convinced that "worship" comes out of honest expression. You could sing Cockburn or Matisyahu or the songs of Bollywood, and the expression could be just as frail or as robust as singing a Charles Wesley classic. Where's the heart in all of this? Perhaps the answer becomes this: each congregation, each grouping of Christians needs to find authentic, honest ways in which to express worship - whether in song, in painting, sculpture, drama, and most especially in the realities of everyday life. That was it for me on Friday. I skipped the afternoon session to spend time alone, reading, writing, and thinking a bit about the emerging church's tendency towards cybergnosticism. You know, like, living lives on blogs and things, keeping us out of contact with the real flesh-and-blood problems in the communities where we make our homes. More to come...

FFM 2007 - Part 2

After waking up, getting oriented on campus (since we'd arrived in the dark) and finding Johnny's, the campus cafe for breakfast, the band headed off to register in the heart of the Fine Arts Centre. I looked around briefly for Lauren Winner - I was hoping to catch up with her and talk about her upcoming engagement at Wycliffe College - but she was nowhere to be found. From 11am-noon, the band assembled in a makeshift rehearsal space provided by the organizers, and we ran through the next morning's set. The music was taking shape, our parts were making more sense, and we were feeling halfway decent about the prospect of leading several hundred people the next morning. This year's FFM had a really serious spike in attendance from previous years. Where last time there were probably 100-150 people in attendance, 2007 saw around 1000 participants. That's probably something to keep in mind as we examine the ways in which the conference took place. I can see how the change in attendance could have changed the vibe of the keynote addresses. They probably would have felt different in front of a more intimate audience of 100, as opposed to the numbers in attendance this year. Lauren Winner got to the stage and spent her first ten minutes talking about why she shouldn't have been asked to give this particular keynote. By the middle of her address, I was in full agreement. Let me frame it this way: the woman has written a couple of decent books (Girl Meets God, Real Sex), the most recent of which explores a plausible approach towards chastity in the context of Christian faith. I have not seen her speak on it, but I would expect that she's probably comfortable with that schtick by now. Asking her to speak on the arts, and more specifically music, something which she admittedly knows little about, seems like a setup. One of her dominant refrains was that "God cares about senseless art." I had to approach this statement again and again, asking "what on earth did she mean by senseless art?" Especially in the context of a Christian discussion, I had to question the value of calling art senseless to begin with. I suppose I understand what she was getting at - that there is something extravagant and marvellous about the creative process. Winner helpfully discussed art's value in relation to the building of the temple. Such art, she related, was an act of worship where the construction of modern church edifices is often based on the bottom line. But despite this point (which she could have significantly expanded upon and made coherent what was left unclear) she could not seem to tie that sense of worship back to her idea of the senseless. My question lingered: does worship not make sense of the senseless? In recognition of a creative and creating God, is artful creation not only sensible, but sanctified? To steal from David Dark's lecture from Saturday, this must be so, if it points to the truth. I have to admit to tuning out at various points, but my ears sure sprang up again when her discussion of art meandered into a discussion of the poor, where she stated, "The logic of scarcity in our surrounding world is at odds with the Christian logic of fecundity through the God of abundance." The creation and enjoyment of art, Winner seemed to say, either supercedes or at least matches our responsibility to the poor. Are we to feed the poor or buy good art? Winner's logic, avoiding the problem of the church's relationship to the poor, appeared to favour art. I would have preferred it, if instead of creating such a reductionist duality between art and poverty, she had spent some time artfully wrestling with the realities of scarcity in our world. Looking out my window today, I do see poverty. I know of God's promise of plenty, but what I witness, grounded in the realities of my time and place, is poverty. Financial poverty, spiritual poverty, whatever way you want to spin it, our world is impoverished. This does not deny God's fecundity, but points to the realities of a fallen world. I do see people who live in overpriced, poorly maintained apartment buildings. I meet these people in the street. Perhaps I share a conversation and a coffee with them. In so doing, I find myself called towards an artful engagement with all of God's people. In so doing, I do not feel as though I can place art over and above the value of the people with whom I meet. In such a case, my engagement with art would in fact be senseless. How can we value art for arts sake, and not be concerned with the plight of the rest of creation? Certainly this does not reduce the ways in which we can engage with art, or to create things, but I suspect it will be important to reframe art's value (and especially that created by Christians) not in any senseless aesthetic, but rather in terms of its ability to tell the truth, that is, to engage in acts of worship.

FFM 2007 - Part 1

This was the third year of the Festival of Faith and Music at Calvin College, and the first one I've had opportunity to attend. Late last year, the Wine Before Breakfast community, of which I'm a part, was asked to lead worship at the conference. In preparation for the conference, the band put together a song list in the spirit of lament, integrating it into an adapted Anglican liturgy. We were crossing the border to lead those gathered with us in Grand Rapids in lament. I was kinda nervous about crossing the border with music gear, even tho we weren't being reimbursed for playing. It's always one of those things, when you hear stories of bands being turned away at the border because they don't have the proper documentation. As it was, we didn't need the documents we had been given, and crossed over easily to the other side. Arriving in Grand Rapids after midnight, we found our accomodations in the student residence, and pretty much crashed out for the night. Many thanks to John in 2nd Floor Bolt for putting us up overnight. Turns out we both have the same birthday (tho 6 years apart). It was awesome to meet some local folks and to escape from Toronto for a couple of days to play music, listen to music, and to take part in some of the workshops. Returning to our reasons for going...With the beginning of holy week almost upon us, lament seemed appropriate. In our lament, we were able to acknowledge that the Hosannas we would shout the next day were only fleeting. That our desires for peace, for God's kingdom, are tainted by desires for revenge. How must it have been for Jesus to enter into the local synagogue, read from Isaiah, and to declare that the prophecy had been fulfilled in their assembled presence? How must it be to preach peace and resurrection in the midst of war and the desire for revenge? Syliva Keesmaat led us through a meditation on these things, interspersed with readings and music to shape the service. For me, in the band, it was a good if not nervewracking experience, as I'm not used to playing in front of large groups. That being said, we got through the service, and my bass lines weren't as shaky as I'd expected, despite going to bed late the night before, and getting up way early on Saturday morning. My next entries will cover Lauren Winner's opening lecture and impressions of the Psalters' presentation on leading worship. For those interested, these are the songs we played on Saturday Morning. Introit: Dweller by a Dark Stream (Bruce Cockburn) Into Jerusalem Jesus Rode (Carl P Daw Jr) How Did We End Up Here? (Martyn Joseph) Liturgy: Wade in the Water (African-American Spiritual) Into Jerusalem Jesus Rode (Carl P Daw Jr) Dweller by a Dark Stream (Adapted for Prayer Litany) Eucharist: Eat This Bread (Taize) Jesus Remember Me (Taize) Reflection: Turn Me Tender Again (Martyn Joseph)

Leaving Today

A number of us from the Wine Before Breakfast community at UofT are heading down to Michigan today for the Festival of Faith and Music. I woke up this morning feeling alright, knowing that it was going to be a good week-end, but now, by 10:36am, I'm a little nervous. Part of the reason we're going is to lead worship at the Festival on Saturday morning, which is going to be cool, but it's been a long time since I've played music in front of a large group of people. Playing bass in a worship band is certainly different from playing a rock show - but the nerves are still a little shaky, even though what we're doing is not at all about "the show," and all about helping direct worship, musically, towards the creator of the universe. Still - the nerves! Part of it, I think is the nerves of playing on the same stage as Sufjan Stevens, Neko Case and Emmylou Harris. Part of it is leaving home, that is, Ericka, for a few days. We really haven't had to do the whole "apart" thing since we've been married, and so that's a new experience for us too. I am excited about the festival, the performers, the speakers, the workshops, and the chance to catch up with Liz, a friend I met in Kolkata a few years back. It'll be good to go down and see her, since she only updates her blog every six months or so, and really, I have no idea what's going on with here these days. For anyone out there reading, keep the band in your prayers, please. We would be ever-grateful.