Previous | Next 

Calling the tune

Kathy Cawsey

Music is almost invariably one of the most contentious of issues in church.

Both sides of the music debate have been well hashed out. “Young people like rock and roll; older people generally don’t.” “If we want to reach young people, we should play their music.” “The sanctuary is a place of prayer and calm worship, not a club or dance hall.” “How can young people get something out of the service if we don’t speak to them in a way they understand?” “How can older people get something out of the service if they always come home with headaches?”

I had a conversation with my sister a while ago. She tried to convince me to like the music of Celine Dion. She challenged me to explain why I don’t particularly like Dion’s music.

“Well, for one thing, she doesn’t write any of her own songs,” I answered.

“Why should that matter? Lot’s of people don’t write their own songs. That doesn’t make their music bad.”

“I tend to respect people who write their own stuff, that’s all. Besides, I’m not that crazy about easy-listening.”

“What’s wrong with easy listening? Anyway, not all of Celine Dion’s music is easy listening. Just because you don’t like a couple of her songs doesn’t mean you have to reject her completely.”

Finally I said, exasperated, “Why do you care if I like her or not, anyway?”

Music is a strange thing. It becomes personal. Not only do we like some kinds and dislike others, but we tend to want other people to like the same music we do. It’s not enough for them merely to tolerate our music – we want them to like it. Maybe it’s a matter of self-justification: We’re not sure why we like what we do, but if enough people agree with us, then we must have good taste. Maybe it’s a matter of power – we want to impose our tastes on the world.

Few people could actually articulate why they prefer one kind of music over another. We usually like the music we grew up with, the songs we’re familiar with. Sometimes we make choices based on social factors: We listen to one kind of music because that’s the music to which our crowd listens. But we rarely, if ever, make a decision about music based on logic. Music is one of those gut-feeling issues. Logic just doesn’t enter into it. We can argue reasonably and logically for hours, but, at the end of the day, you will still like your music and I will still like mine.

When it comes down to it, that’s why music is so powerful – and why we include music in our church services at all. We can explain theology logically all day, but nothing can compare to the emotion brought on by the first strains of “Amazing Grace” or “Silent Night” or “Shine, Jesus, Shine”. It’s the power of music that makes the issue so divisive – music can repel as powerfully as it attracts.

So, where does God come into all of this? We can agree that I can like my music and you can like yours, but who decides what gets played in church? In this instance, we can’t really take Jesus as our example. I bet none of us would have liked his Middle Eastern pre-rock pre-jazz pre-classical pre-medieval taste in music!

So how do we decide?

The issue of music is part of a bigger issue. It’s part of a turf war over who controls the content of the service. If you control the music, you control the tone and atmosphere of the service. And if you control the service, you generally control the church. Music is the heavy artillery in a turf war over control.

That’s what the music debate really is about, who gets to control the church – the older generation, with the weight of tradition and experience behind them, or the younger generation, with the weight of “we are the future” behind them. We pretend to love and tolerate each other, but eventually it comes down to – on both sides – “This is what I like, and this is what I am comfortable with, so this is how I want it done.” We’d rather have other people adapt to our tastes than go to the trouble of trying to accommodate theirs.

I don’t know what Jesus thought about music. I don’t know which “side” He would be on if He were on earth today. I do know, however, what Jesus thought about turf wars.

Kathy Cawsey is a Ph.D. student at the University of Toronto. This article was originally published in The Presbyterian Record.

Previous | Next 

Last modified June 13, 2002.

© 2002 Mennonite Brethren Herald.
Published by the Canadian Conference of MB Churches.
Masthead and usage information.