Paul, Psalms & Plato

December 01, 2009

Peter Dart

In Resounding Truth, Jeremy Begbie emphasises “that there is no such thing as a ‘theology of music’ in the Bible.” By this he does not mean that the Bible never reflects on music in a theological way, but simply that there is “no sustained thinking about how music might fit into God’s purposes or how music might resonate with the grand themes of creation and salvation.”[1] Much the same can be said of musical aesthetics. Amidst a wealth of description of musical practice in the Old Testament and musical imagery in Revelation, there is not only a lack of sustained reflection on things like aesthetic value and the nature of musical expression, there are no obvious ways of evaluating what reflection there is, across a cultural divide of two thousand years and more. How much easier it would have been if the Bible had been issued with the soundtrack.

An added difficulty is the relative silence of the New Testament in particular. Outside Revelation there are only a few references to hymn-singing in the gospels and Acts (Matthew 26:30, Mark 14:26, Acts 16:25), a simple injunction in James about singing psalms when you are happy (James 5:13), and three short injunctions in Paul’s letters (1 Corinthians 14:15-16, 26-27, Ephesians 5:18-19, Colossians 3:16). The importance of the Pauline passages, in spite of their brevity, is that they combine a coherent set of theological principles for singing with a simple set of instructions on the practice of singing in the church. These are primary texts in any discussion of church music. They focus clearly on the importance of God’s word in Christian worship, they are free of the complications of the imagery of Revelation, and they are more applicable to smaller church gatherings than Old Testament passages on temple worship.

But the importance of the Pauline texts for the church also poses problems, problems that have governed debate over music in the church for almost two millennia. A lot, for example, has been read into Paul’s silence on instruments and choirs. There has also been a tendency to distance Paul’s instruction from its wider scriptural context, spiritualising the musical imagery of Revelation and relegating the more extravagant descriptions of temple worship in the Old Testament (e.g. 1 Chronicles 25:1-8, Psalm 150) to the dustbin of the old covenant. The net effect has been to minimise the aesthetic (in contrast to the theological) implications of Paul’s teaching, which in many instances has driven the church into competing corners: one championing Paul on the centrality of the word at the expense of aesthetic engagement, the other championing aesthetic excellence and minimising Paul. Do either of these positions do justice to scripture as a whole? Or, to ask the questions I want to answer here, what precisely are the aesthetic implications of Paul’s teaching, and how does he overlap (if at all) with the Old Testament and Revelation? My aim is to answer these questions by looking at two elements of Paul’s teaching on music: His emphasis on the importance on understanding in corporate worship and the need of a heartfelt response to God.

Church congregation

Understanding

If 1 Corinthians 14 is a snapshot of early Christian worship, the image has faded. Outside the New Testament text, we have no access to documents that might sharpen our focus on the practice of the church in its first decades. We do not know precisely what Paul meant when he wrote about tongues or prophecy. Even details like the structure of Christian worship are blurred across the distance of two millennia. What is clear, however, is Paul’s emphasis on understanding or intelligibility when the church gathers to hear the word of God. Whatever we may not understand about Paul praying and singing with his spirit (or “in the Spirit”), his point of comparison is unmistakeable. In his ministry to public gatherings of the church Paul says, “I will pray with the spirit, but I will also pray with meaning. I will sing with the spirit, but I will also sing with meaning” (v15; my translation and emphasis)—and “in the church I would rather speak five intelligible words to instruct others than ten thousand words in a tongue” (v19). In the church, intelligibility comes first.

On the surface, this is not an aesthetic observation at all. Even where Paul refers to singing, the most obvious response to his principle of intelligibility is practical: to avoid, to translate, or to explain all foreign languages. But Paul’s emphasis on understanding has quite extensive aesthetic implications as well.

Hymns, for example, use poetic forms of language in which words can be unintelligible even when their individual meaning is understood. In a church I once pastored there was an elderly Iraqi man whose English was good enough to understand the sermons and most of the modern songs we sang. But when it came to hymns by someone like Charles Wesley, the poetic diction and figures of speech rendered them almost meaningless. While we frolicked with theological delight among eighteenth-century metaphors, he got lost. “For me,” he said, “It’s like singing in tongues.” Resolving a problem like this is not simply practical; it involves an aesthetic judgment. Poetry that resonates with meaning for some people is an obstruction for others as they try to grasp the full impact of God’s word. This is the kind of judgment that Isaac Watts made when he published his Hymns and Spiritual Songs in 1707:

[My] Metaphors are generally sunk to the Level of vulgar Capacities. I have aimed . . . to make the Sense plain and obvious. I have thrown out the Lines that were too sonorous . . . lest a more exalted Turn of Thought or Language should darken or disturb the Devotion of the plainest Souls.[2]

So much for words! Musically, the impact of Paul’s concern for intelligibility is less direct. Apart from two charming musical illustrations in 1 Corinthians 14:7-8 (which are analogies of sense and communication in language), Paul’s musical aesthetic can only be inferred from the priority he gives to words in general and the word of God in particular. The inference is that singing will strengthen the church only when music serves the word.

This is consistent with other Pauline texts. Singing is not an end in itself. In Ephesians 5:19 Paul writes about “speaking to one another in psalms, hymns and spiritual songs.” In Colossians 3:16 singing is a way for the Christian congregation to teach each other “the word of Christ.” Both texts assert the primacy of God’s word, and while this does not set precise limits to musical expression, it does imply some restraint. In Christian worship, music is not the master, but a servant of God’s word.

There is an interesting contrast to this in a document that is roughly contemporary with Paul—Philo’s Contemplative Life—which describes the worship of a first-century Jewish-mystical sect, the Therapeutae. Part of its interest is the similarity between Ephesians 5:18-19 and CL 85-89, where Philo contrasts the drunkenness of pagan rites with the wine of God’s love, which the Therapeutae metaphorically drink as they sing together, “drunk with the drunkenness in which there is no shame.”[3] What really stands out, however, are the differences. None of the Pauline texts says anything about poetic or musical style. One could say that while Paul affirms musical expression he leaves questions of style open, in favour of his emphasis on a plain understanding of scripture. Philo, on the other hand, says a lot about the poetry and music of the Therapeutae. He emphasizes an allegorical interpretation of scripture (hence non-literal and private) and the hypnotic power of music and ritual. Perhaps this is the kind of mysticism Paul was trying to correct in Corinth when he recommended plain speech and structured services. A generation or two after Paul, the urgency of tackling mysticism led to the gradual development of liturgical structures that embedded apostolic teaching in Christian worship.

Paul’s emphasis on understanding and the centrality of God’s word has had a lasting impact on the way the church sings and thinks about music. For centuries the boundaries that define the place of music in Christian worship have been drawn and redrawn in similar terms. In the fourth century Athanasius cautioned that, “Holy Scripture is not designed to tickle the aesthetic palate, and it is rather for the soul's own profit that the Psalms are sung.”[4] Twelve hundred years later Calvin emphasised that “the unique gift of man is to sing knowing that which he sings.”[5]

Giving worshippers an opportunity to engage with scripture or liturgy, without the distraction of music that is too complex or too entertaining, has been a consistent focus of musical reform in church history. From the late Middle Ages to the Renaissance, the growing sophistication of music written in many, often complex and subtle, vocal parts attracted a lot of official attention. In 1325 Pope John XXII condemned musicians who distorted traditional melodies with uneven rhythms and broke them up among different vocal parts. “They intoxicate the ear without satisfying it; they dramatize the text with gestures; and, instead of promoting devotion, they prevent it by creating a sensuous and indecent atmosphere.”[6] The Council of Trent (1545-63) ordered bishops to “banish from churches all those kinds of music, in which, whether by the organ, or in the singing, there is mixed up any thing lascivious or impure; . . . so the house of God may be seen to be, and may be called, truly a house of prayer.”[7] Many Christians today have an agenda that is not so different. David Peterson contrasts “subjective expressions of faith” with singing that is “intelligible and consistent with apostolic teaching”, to which people can “say the ‘Amen’ and be edified.”[8] Even the supporters of artistic excellence in worship usually recognise that the power of worship depends on the content of Christian teaching, not just the naked power of musical expression. The power of J.S. Bach’s church music is unquestionable, but as Charles Rosen observes, its essence as religious expression is not in the emotional satisfaction it gives, but in its representation of “some point of dogma or some aspect of religious experience.”[9]

For good reasons Paul’s emphasis on intelligibility in worship has remained the centre of gravity around which aesthetic judgments on music in Christian worship have orbited, or been drawn back. The focus of Christian worship will always be the saving work of God in Jesus Christ, and that will inevitably mean aesthetic choices that moderate the role of music.

Decapolis

Response

But is this all that can be said about Paul’s idea of music? As valid and applicable as intelligibility is in regulating our musical choices, there is danger if we detach moderation from intelligibility as a guiding aesthetic principle.

The danger is that in the polemical struggle over musical reform churches have often developed an important inference from Paul into something far more definite, until moderation has become a straightjacket. Specifically, the danger has been to read Paul as if he were Plato. Calvin, for example, referred to Plato in the “Preface” to the Genevan Psalter:

[T]here is scarcely in the world anything which is more able to turn or bend this way and that the morals of men, as Plato prudently considered it. And in fact, we find by experience that [music] has a sacred and almost incredible power to move hearts in one way or another. Therefore we ought to be even more diligent in regulating it in such a way that it shall be useful to us and in no way pernicious.[10]

This is persuasive. Plato’s belief, that music has the power to shape our values and character, still seems axiomatic.[11] And experience does show that music influences people psychologically. But, no matter how persuasive Plato’s arguments are, there is a false assumption that has influenced a lot of Christian thinking about music: that Paul’s advice about moderation for the sake of intelligibility is the same as Plato’s censorship of musical style in the interests of the moral health. The outcome has often been a suspicion of the emotional power of music in worship. At its worst, this suspicion has created a severe aesthetic that ultimately contradicts Paul’s instruction to “sing and make melody in your heart to the Lord.”

The association of Paul with Plato is untenable for two reasons. Firstly, while Paul does make an ethical observation when he points out the spiritual benefits of praising God as opposed to getting drunk, he does not develop the kind of metaphysical comparison we find in Plato between ethics/spirituality and particular styles of music. In fact Paul says nothing about musical style at all. This omission is not a vacuum for us to fill with metaphysical speculation. Rather, the very omission is part of inspired wisdom that should prompt Christians to think about their musical choices in every new situation. “Does this song help people understand what God is saying? Does the music help them to embrace it from the heart?” Since Paul wrote his letters, the Church’s mission to all nations has encountered thousands of cultures and musical styles for which it is impossible to lay down a coherent set of aesthetic principles. In his wisdom, the Holy Spirit has kept it simple. The aesthetic principle that governs musical expression in the Church is not Plato’s ethical slant on aesthetics, but a simple instruction to “sing and make melody” in a way that engages the worshippers in an intelligent and heartfelt response to the Lord.

The second problem with a Platonic reading of Paul is that it detaches what Paul says about music from the rest of the Bible. As a Jew, Paul had every reason to believe that God delighted in the emotion-charged praise of the Psalms. His emphasis on singing in Ephesians 5:18-19 and Colossians 3:16 is in the context of their experience of the Spirit and the richness of Christ’s word. Singing is the powerful expression of their “innermost being, from the heart, where the Spirit himself resides. . . .”[12] With this in mind the whole phrase, “sing and make melody in your heart,” is suggestive of greater aesthetic continuity between Paul and other biblical expressions of musical praise.

Looking at this phrase more closely, “make melody” is translated from a single Greek word, psallontes (root, psallein). Literally, it means “to pull” or “strike”. Musically, it originally described playing a harp, and came to mean singing to the accompaniment of a harp. Both musical meanings were familiar to first century Jewish and Christian readers of the Greek Old Testament (LXX).[13] Given this range of meanings it is probable that “making melody in your heart” (Ephesians 5:19) paints a picture of something very familiar to Paul’s readers: a voice that sings responsively to an accompanying instrument. This interpretation is supported by Old Testament usage. Wherever the LXX uses psallein in its primary musical sense (“to play a string instrument”) it appears in contexts where playing inspires an emotional or ecstatic response, like David playing a harp to soothe the evil spirit that took hold of Saul (1 Samuel 16:16-18,23; 19:9), or Elisha calling for a musician to play until the Spirit of God moved him to prophesy (2 Kings 3:15).[14] Singing and making melody to the Lord is an emotional response from a heart filled with God’s Spirit.

Almost every other use of psallein in the LXX is figurative (“to make music”). In the Psalms it often appears in combination with adein (“to sing”), the way Paul uses it in Ephesians 5:19.[15] But, whether it appears with adein or with other verbs, the figurative use of psallein in the Psalms is always emotive and usually appears in series of two or more verbs that build in a crescendo of praise to God.[16] The most striking example is in Psalm 149:1-3 where adein heads a series of six verbs that end climactically with psallein. Although the elements of dance and instrumental music in Psalm 149 are not in Ephesians 5:18-20, the emotive use of psallein in this and other Psalms indicates that for Paul “sing and make melody” was more than a bland synonym. In keeping with the exuberance of the Psalms, it is a call to exultant praise in the Church.

In other words, the worship environment that shaped Paul’s thoughts about singing was not the environment of a later Gentile church that inherited Paul’s teaching and blended it with Plato’s suspicion of emotional excess. It was the worship environment of the Psalms, at times noisy, and always open to the expression of a full range of emotions as God’s people sang about their longings for God’s victory in a suffering world.

Detaching Paul from Plato’s metaphysical aesthetics has important consequences for the musical choices we make. Firstly, while Paul’s emphasis on intelligibility is foundational, it is not exclusive. Singing is redundant if it does not touch the heart. Choosing a song is more than conveying the right message; it is making sure that the message is able to engage the whole person. This understanding has never been more important. Differences in cross-generational responses to music and the multi-cultural nature of mission make it imperative not only to understand our theology, but also to understand the heart music of the people who receive our ministry. This is not a minor consideration. As early as 1898, a leader of the Student Volunteer Movement related his own experience of using indigenous styles of song to convey the gospel message: “We are carrying on the work of God by singing the gospel into human hearts.”[17]

Secondly, moderation of musical style for the sake of intelligibility does not automatically mean censorship. On one hand, there are times when judgments will be made about the use of a particular instrument or musical style, especially when it is impossible to separate it from the worship of idols or immoral practices.[18] But decisions like this are practical, mainly local, and often change as associations weaken. On the other hand, Plato’s association of musical style and morality is an unprovable metaphysical doctrine. When it is applied in the church it tends to boil down to judgments in favour of traditional prejudice or personal taste. Judgments of this kind do not allow for the range of expression that the Psalms invite and Paul allows when he urges us in very Psalm-like terms to “sing and make music” to the Lord.

Perhaps the best way to sum up the aesthetic implications of Paul’s teaching about singing in the church is to say it enriches the word of Christ. There has to be musical moderation or the word of Christ is lost, but there is nothing to fear from musical expression that reaches our hearts.

Peter Dart has studied music extensively and is a pastor at the Chinese and Australian Baptist Church in Thornleigh.

NOTES

[1]Jeremy S. Begbie (2007). Resounding Truth: Christian Wisdom in the World of Music. Grand Rapids, Mich.: Baker Academic, p77.

[2] Isaac Watts (1707). “Preface” to Hymns and Spiritual Songs, London: J. Humphreys, for John Lawrence, http://www.ccel.org/cceh/archives/eee/wattsprh.htm.

[3] Philo, On the Contemplative Life or Suppliants, (tr. F. H. Colson), Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1941, pp164-167.

[4] Athanasius, “A Letter to Marcellinus,” in Athanasius: The Life of Anthony and the Letter to Marcellinus, (tr. Robert G. Gregg). Mahway, N. J. : Paulist Press, 1980, http://www.athanasius.com/psalms/aletterm.htm

[5] John Calvin (1565). “Preface” to the Genevan Psalter, http://www.ccel.org/ccel/ccel/eee/files/calvinps.htm

[6] Pope John XXII, Decretal, Docta Sanctorum Patrum, (tr. Robert F. Hayburn), Papal Legislation on Sacred Music, Collegeville, MN: The Liturgical Press, 1977, quoted in http://academic.cengage.com/music/book_content/049557273X_wrightSimms_DEMO/assets/ITOW/7273X_10b_ITOW_John_XXII.pdf.

[7] The Council of Trent, Session 22, On the Sacrifice of the Mass, First Decree. http://www.thecounciloftrent.com/ch22.htm

[8] David Peterson (1992). Engaging with God: A Biblical Theology of Worship. Leicester, UK: Apollos, p212.

[9] Charles Rosen (1998). The Romantic Generation. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, p593.

[10] Calvin, op. cit.

[11] Plato’s ideas on the moral influence of music are most clearly expressed in Republic 398d-399c and 424b-c, and in Timaeus 47a-e.

[12] Andrew T. Lincoln (1990). Ephesians. Word Biblical Commentary, vol. 42. Dallas, Tex: Word Books, p346.

[13] Josephus, for example, used psallein in both senses in Antiquities 6.214, 7.80, 9.35, 11.67.

[14] Also see Psalms 33:2-3 and 68:25. References to the Psalms in these notes are good for any English text, but not the LXX where the numbering of the Psalms is different.

[15] E.g. Psalms 27:6, 57:7-8, 108:1 & 144:9.

[16] E.g. Psalms 33:1-3, 47:5-7, 66:1-4 & 98:4-6.

[17] From an address by James Walter Waugh (1898). Quoted in Robert A. Schneider “Jesus Shall Reign: Hymns and Foreign Missions, 1800-1870,” Wonderful Words of Life: Hymns in American Protestant History and Theology, (ed, Robert J. Mouw and Mark A. Noll) Grand Rapids, Mich.: William B. Eerdmans, 2004, p72.

[18] Robb Redman (2002). The Great Worship Awakening: Singing a New Song in the Postmodern Church, San Francisco: Jossey-Bass, pp184-85.