Grant Park, Chicago, 1979. The newly elected Polish pope makes his first visit to the "second largest Polish city in the world, after Warsaw." A crowd pushing one million has been gathered for hours. Finally the pontiff arrives; the mass begins. At several points the congregation, almost as large as the population of some countries, breaks into song — a million people singing together. Faces stream with tears. Eyes bear witness to the power and the Spirit. A million people recite the creed in unison. An enormous community of faith. A congregation.

August, 1995. A crowd gathers in the park near the Liberty Bell in downtown Philadelphia. Through the sea of baggy denim clothing, candles and flowers, a large portrait draped in black is visible. The crowd is singing, obviously in mourning. The most popular member of the Grateful Dead is, well, dead. The presiders, three long-haired women in patchwork finery, lead the chant: "Amazing grace, how sweet the sound." The stanza ends. There is silence. A split-second scanning of memory banks proves futile. The result: stanzas two and three, four through eight are the same as the first. Those involved in this event feel the need to cry out in song, to join their voices with one another in a ritual of melody, a blending of community, an act of corporate support. And here, mourning one who devoted his life to providing new songs, the gathered congregation senses that what belongs here is an old hymn — if only they knew more than one stanza!

Sunday morning. The sanctuary is full. It's time to reflect on the Word in song. The musicians have creatively introduced the designated piece. The refrain is appealing, yet not many in the pews are singing. A soloist presents the verses which are clear and intelligible. Again, the refrain. The singing is better, but you can't help feeling that something is missing. Strangely, singing out makes you feel more alone. You understand that you are there, part of a worshiping community. Yet the idea of a community joined together in a song of praise seems evasive. The idea of a community joined together by a song of praise is virtually impossible if those present, for whatever reason, are not adding their voices to the assembly.

What connects these three incidents? The song of the assembled people — when it works and when it doesn't. The gathering around the pope's visit demonstrates the promise of communal song, that potential that has drawn us into the calling of leading it. The incident at the memorial for the Dead's Jerry Garcia illustrates that even in a culture that doesn't outwardly value singing together, people realize on a deep level that such song is powerful, maybe even essential. The church illustration strikes home for us, in our real world. We know how much the church's song can add to our life together in faith — but how do we reach the plane of effective song?

Congregational Song: A Lesson in Community

Throughout history, art, especially music, has played a vital role in the rituals of humankind. There is evidence of this in every culture, in every religious community. Most often, though not always, worship is a community event. Music, through its intimate connection with human emotion, on one hand helps heighten individual responses, and on the other nurtures community in the deepest sense. Music, by nature, usually requires some sort of community. It does not and cannot exist in a vacuum. Certain elements are necessary for music to take place. Like theater and dance it is an art "active in time." A composer creates a piece that is passed on to another either by rote teaching (oral tradition) or in writing. The next necessary element is that of performer. The person being taught the piece — the listener — fills out this trinity of musical prerequisites. Variants on this theme are countless. Composer and performer may be the same person. The roles of performer and listener are often themselves made up of communities. An orchestra, for example, is a community of performers. So are a trio ensemble, a rock band. Two children singing "Row, row, row your boat" as a round make up a community of performers — and, simultaneously, of listeners. Composer, performer, listener: community.

Music unites — it is an important aspect of communal worship, of being congregation. Singing together is the quickest way to unite a gathering of individuals, no matter how large or small, into one corporate worshiping body, the body of Christ. Something happens when we sing.

Countless factors influence the way we sing — one of which, unfortunately, is that we don't sing. Here, at the turn of the third millennium, perhaps for the first time in history, the practice of group singing, at least in the United States, has become all but extinct. When was the last time, other than in church, you joined your voice with others in song? The only remnants of group song (and of ritual song) we own today are the "Birthday Song" and "The Star Spangled Banner." How strange it is that, for most people, the corporate singing of our national anthem has become associated solely with the opening rites of various sporting events. Even this is becoming more and more a solo piece in its orientation! Thankfully, some do still gather for seasonal Christmas caroling but even this is not in any way widespread.

The waning practice of group singing also has diminished our repertoire. Ask a child to sing any of our folk tunes, nursery rhymes excluded. What are our folk tunes? Not many seem to know. Because of budget cuts most music programs in schools, especially in public schools, have suffered greatly. If music is a part of the curriculum, the focus is most often on instrumental rather than vocal training. For most children, commercial jingles seem to have taken root as the "folk" idiom, a sad commentary both on our culture and our priorities.

So where is the music of the people today? Has music in the popular idiom supplanted folk music as the music of the people? Many Americans are generally literate in the popular music of their respective eras, maybe even of the eras that preceded or followed their own. For the most part, however, music on the popular scene is solo oriented, having nothing to do with communal song. Some pieces do resemble music that could actually be sung by groups — "Don't Sit Under the Apple Tree," "Unchained Melody," the music of Joan Baez and Woody Guthrie, even the Beach Boys' "California Girls." But the popular music of the past half century, employing bended and strophically varied rhythms, unpredictable phrase elongation and vocal note coloring, simply is not conducive to group use. This type of music, while artistic, compelling, and often a real treat to listen to, is just that: it is meant for listening. Quality is not an issue here. The fact is, simply, that this is music meant for solo or small group performance — not for group vocal involvement. The way it is constructed — rhythmic changes between verses, stylistic vocal embellishments, and complex text construction — makes it too unpredictable for group song. The popular music of today is solo music.

Are there pieces possessing characteristics from the solo popular idiom which the members of the congregation might be able to sing if they become familiar with them through repeated use and education? This is possible and indeed commendable providing the congregation actually can sing them as group song. This means that the song produced by the assembly itself must remain primary.

The Primacy of the People's Song

Congregational singing of any sort requires leadership — people don't just begin to sing spontaneously — but this leadership should never overshadow the song of the people. The vocalist who "leads" the congregation by means of an over-amplified microphone connected to a powerful sound system, the organist who employs harsh detachments in articulation and overpowering registrations to beat the congregation into submission, and the pastor who bellows from the side of the chancel are all guilty of replacing rather than nurturing the song of the people. Songs in a solo style that are attempted as group song often require such dominating leadership, which is why they don't, as a rule, work well. If, in the music of worship, the voice of the congregation is not primary, then simple, profound silence would be preferable. Leaders need to consider ways they can help congregations find their collective voice, not fill in for them, taking their place. The key here is facilitation — helping it happen, not making it happen. This should be the starting point for any decisions regarding leadership in congregational song.

Now, to use a good catechism phrase, "What does this mean?" For us as leaders of the church's song, it means:

• Choosing music that is congregationally based, which has the characteristics necessary for ease in group singing.
• Selecting tunes that sing well, that are sufficiently predictable as well as interesting, that are both memorable and worthy of memory, that bring the text to life, that embrace textual accents in a natural way.
• Selecting texts that sing well, texts with chains of vowel patterns that flow, that follow predictable rhythmic structures from one stanza to the next, that do not overreach in their rhyming schemes.
• Nurturing the development of the congregation's collective voice so that, on occasion, they may sing unaccompanied — a great way to allow them to really hear themselves.
• Cultivating an awareness for placing those musical entities in the service so they are meaningful and contribute to the flow of worship rather than attracting attention to themselves.
• Reflecting musically on texts to help the congregation digest the words, concepts and images, as they are being sung.
• Introducing the hymn, song, or liturgical piece in such a way that there is no question in the mind of the participant as to what his or her part is to be, and in such a way that no one can help but participate.
• Taking time to analyze both tune and text, ascertaining where the difficulties in singing may lie, and determining how the congregation might best encounter them.
• Researching the origins of both text and tune, learning what spawned their creation, to better communicate what is essential.
• Learning the musical languages of other cultures to enhance the congregation's awareness of its place in the worldwide church.
• Varying the accompanying instrumentation, highlighting ethnic styles, supplying supportive yet colorful harmonic structures, and — for organists — not always using the same registration.
• Making friends with the element of surprise.

One of the characteristics of congregational hymns, songs, and responses is that they are often based on repetition. Repetition of stanzas or refrains can facilitate the process of familiarization, thereby increasing the congregation's comfort zone. In singing each successive stanza, the singer becomes more comfortable with the natural twists of melody and rhythm. The text is able to unfold. A good marriage of text and tune allows this to happen with both a degree of expectancy and surprise. A good music leader acts both as supporter and guide.

Helping the Congregation Find Its Voice

The musician, in facilitating the song of the people, must take into account a multitude of factors. Who will make up the assembly? This obvious question deserves careful attention. The size of the congregation, for example, has bearing on decisions regarding instrumental accompaniment, organ registration, and the choice of the music itself. What is their age range? What are they used to singing in church? The purpose of the gathering also needs to be taken into account. What part does music play in the flow of the service? How might the musician facilitate not only mood but also drama and flow? How musically literate is the congregation? A miscalculation here can lead to frustration for everyone.

Anyone who has served as a substitute organist or, for that matter, who plays more than one service in the same parish, understands that no two congregations sing exactly alike. While there is likely some degree of predictability from week to week and from service to service, the musician constantly needs to be aware of the current disposition of the assembly. Are they singing well today? How can I best encourage their participation? What can I do to make the congregation "gel" as a worshiping unit? While the structure of the service combined with elements such as expectancy and anticipation on the part of those gathered foster at least a fundamental base, the question still must be addressed: What can I do to help expand and uplift?

Leaders of congregational song who tend to be most effective understand the importance of working together — of leading through the building of relationship, of working from within as a part of the congregation, of keeping one eye toward beauty of tone and color as well as one eye toward meeting the people where they're at on this particular day. Anticipate musical problems before they arise and learn to deal with them as they come up. Know the congregation you serve. Familiarize yourself with their existing repertoire, their cultural heritage, their likes and dislikes. Then build on this base: set a vision for incorporating areas of growth — new literature, hymns from unfamiliar traditions. At the same time, remain respectful of the songs they love. You may not have much use for "Great is thy faithfulness" — or Luther's "May God bestow on us his grace" — but before you think about easing it into disuse, consider the person for whom that hymn is incomparably moving.

The one who facilitates the church's song also needs to consider the environment in which the community worships. This includes instruments available in the space, acoustics, visual lines, seating design, amplification system, lighting, tone of intimacy or grandeur, as well as the positioning of the choir and other worship leaders. Consult with others who plan and lead worship to determine how such factors can be used together to enhance not just the song, but the entire worship.

Exactly what the congregation will sing raises another issue. We start with what we have: what hymnals are in the pews? What hymns and songs do the people already know? Finding something that would work particularly well in a given setting at a specific service is the first step; next, how do we go about getting it before the eyes of the congregation? Do we put everything in the service folder, whether it is in the hymnal or not? Would visual projection work in our sanctuary? Should both notes and text be reproduced, or text alone? Are we breaking copyright laws? These are major questions. The final one is very important.

In a time when convergence of denominational traditions (musically, liturgically, theologically) is on the rise, musicians need to explore and familiarize themselves with the music and performance practice of their church neighbors. The church musician needs to be familiar not only with the German chorale, the tunes from the Genevan Psalter, and the hymns of the English and Welsh traditions, but also with a plethora of other genres: white spirituals, Black gospel, revival hymnody, African call/response form, Asian scales, and so on. Books, articles, recordings, telephone calls to friends, seminars — the learning never ceases.

Leading the Church's Song is intended to be one resource among many in that learning process. Beginning with considerations applicable to any form of communal song, we then move through a more detailed — though by no means exhaustive — exploration of many genres of song available to the worshiping community today. It is not intended to prescribe how the assembly and the leader must do things. It is, rather, an invitation: "Give this form of song a try." "Would this technique help your congregation?"

Conclusion

Augustine said, "The one who sings prays twice." As the church, we possess an enormous and wonderful treasure chest of hymns, songs, chants, psalms, and canticles. In singing them, by participating and adding our own voices to the song, we make them our own. We join the song of all creation, of Hannah, of Miriam and Moses, of Zechariah, of Simeon, of Anna, of Mary, of our Christ.

And something happens to us when we sing. On a communal level we become more conscious of how we fit into the group, of our role in the larger gathering. On a spiritual level, tune, text, and the sound of our singing can transport us to places we never thought possible. Catechetically, we internalize that which we sing. Propelled by the wings of melody, rhythm, and perhaps harmony, the message and images of the text pass through our lips finding ways into our memories as well as our hearts. The kernel of faith is nurtured. It has often been said that the way in which we pray (lex orandi) has great bearing on that which we believe (lex credendi). It is probably just as valid to say that what we sing also shapes our faith — lex cantandi lex credendi.We who lead that song are by nature servants of God's people and serving them well requires work. The task calls us to continuous study of things churchly: scripture, historical models and the function of liturgy, the cycles of the church year. It requires of us constant study and practice to keep musical skills (instrumental, vocal, choral, conducting) at sufficiently high levels. And it challenges us frequently to risk something we have never done before.

Our calling is also pastoral. We function in and serve a community. In some ways we actually create community, for that which we do serves to gather, unite, and bind individuals together. This is indeed a high and holy calling.

Reprinted from Leading the Church's Song. Copyright 1998 Augsburg Fortress.