Towards a theory of Church names

 I remember the day in seminary when Scott Clark introduced the chapel speaker, a Lutheran pastor whose congregation was called "Beautiful Savior." "Why do the Lutherans have all the good Church names?" Professor Clark asked rhetorically, and I have wondered frequently. Confessionally presbyterian Churches are notorious for pulling from an extremely short list of names. Leaving aside those with geographic or numerical indicators (i.e. "First," "Greater Sandusky"), there's "Covenant," "Faith," "Grace," Trinity" and "Providence." For those hoping to project a softer image, there's "Harvest," "Emmanuel," "Redeemer" or "Hope." Honestly, that's about it. Despite literally years of my campaigning for it, there's still not one "Big Happy Rainbow Church (OPC)."

This relentless monotony makes sense when one considers the place of confessional presbyterianism in the broader ecclesiastical landscape. While that landscape is littered with Lutheran congregations, there's relatively few from the Presbyterian Church in America or one of her sister denominations. When new OP Church plants are launched, an extremely common reason given is that there are no nearby reformed congregations. While a new evangelical Church can just be itself in all its own idiosyncratic glory, any given OPC congregation feels a burden to represent the entirety of the presbyterian and reformed stream of the Protestant Reformation.

This sociological reality prompts a conservative approach to naming. Employing a "traditional" (i.e., "boring") name sends a clear, if unstated, message to the potential visitor: "You can trust us to be safe: nothing too flashy or evangelicalish here! Just good old hymns and reliable Calvinist doctrine!" Even as I've been openly crusading for more interesting names, I am suspicious of the outlier congregations which use them. Before my family recently visited "Means of Grace Church," I couldn't help wondering what they were trying to say and what potential weirdness lay ahead of us. (Thankfully, it was just as boring as any other presbyterian congregation. We all breathed a sigh of relief!)

One obvious solution is to plant so many confessionally presbyterian congregations through vigorous evangelism and discipleship that individual names won't seem so weighty. Unfortunately, that would require leaving the house and talking to people, so it will be a while until we get there. In the meantime, I suggest a new name which should immediately reassure any presbyterian looking for a new Church home: "Boring Conservative Presbyterian Church (OPC)."

Why T. David Can't Write (for a Popular Audience)

an unusually hostile review of T. David Gordon’s Why Johnny Can’t Sing Hymns: How Pop Culture Rewrote the Hymnal (Phillipsburg: P&R, 2010), with advice on its appropriate use for pastors and sessions

T. David Gordon has helped me better understand the Christian duty of charity. In “Introductory Considerations,” (endnote 1) he writes “it is also our duty to employ charity in discussing ‘polemical’ theology, or controversial theology” (p. 40). Amen, and after reading Why Johnny Can’t Sing Hymns, I have developed a corollary to this rule: we shouldn’t make it difficult for others to employ charity toward us. Sadly, Gordon violates my corollary, and I am genuinely saddened because I largely agree with his approach to, and conclusions regarding, the music used in Christian worship.

I have never directly participated in “worship wars,” but at my age (endnote 2) I have had much opportunity to observe controversies over the music used in congregational worship. Since my college years, I’ve not liked to ask, “What kind of music may we sing?” The better question is “What kind of music should we sing?” That is, while the Scriptures do not explicitly prohibit or endorse particular genres of music, some are (vastly) better than others for congregational singing, and should be considered on musical and aesthetic merit. This is the refreshingly novel media-ecological perspective (“Preface,” pp. 9-18) Gordon employs in Why Johnny Can’t Sing Hymns, and likely why it has been so warmly received by pastors and professors alike. With that in mind, I recommended our session use it in our congregation’s home study groups. This was a mistake.

A mistake not because our members are wedded to the contemporary worship style Gordon decries (we use only the Trinity Hymnal and Psalter in our services) or are suspicious of aesthetic considerations. Instead, his writing style (endnote 3) erects barriers between him and his readers which unnecessarily prejudice them against his conclusions. I led one group discussion, and found about half the time was taken up with complaints about how Gordon presented his arguments before I was able to steer the conversation to their substance, with which most of the participants (grudgingly) agreed. (endnote 4)

Gordon is prone to overstatement, as in his evaluation of the guitar as an accompaniment for congregational singing. “[G]uitar-playing just doesn’t sound serious; it sounds like casual amusement” (p. 61). “The guitar is nearly hopeless for accompanying a chorus…. [T]he choice of a guitar as an accompanying instrument rules out [‘A Mighty Fortress Is Our God’] (endnote 5), as it does… ‘For All the Saints’” (p. 100). Then on page 132, in footnote 3 he praises the relatively recent hymns of Stuart Townend, which he notes “employ guitar.” If the guitar is “nearly hopeless” for accompanying Christian worship, how can a hymn which relies on it be commendable? When an author is unable to keep up a rhetorical stance, he invites the suspicion it is not entirely sincere.

Gordon also confuses his deductions with demonstrated conclusions. In his discussion of “commercial forces” (endnote 6) as a contributor to American culture’s present contemporaneity, he asserts that Gillette no longer manufactures the 1906 safety razor (or its replacement blades) which he prefers because the corporation wishes to keep the average consumer ignorant so that said consumer will purchase new models (p. 107). Mind you, he offers no documentation in support of this theory. With little effort, I can construct alternatives which account for the facts equally well: the 1906 model had too small a market share to make its continued production profitable for Gillette’s purposes; or Gillette actually believes its current razors are superior to its previous products. Of course, these theories do not fit Gordon’s predetermined conclusion, nor do they have the added advantage of showing him to be a man of cultivated old-world tastes.

Which in turn brings us to Gordon’s fastidiousness, in which he appears to take a peculiar exhibitionistic pride. As a new pastor, he determined “about 500” of the 700 hymns in his congregation’s hymnal “were not appropriate” “to corporate Christian worship” (p. 22). Denominational hymnal-revision committees are not to be trusted because they sometimes include popular “stinkers” to ensure their hymnals get used (p. 163). Gordon doesn’t “believe recently occurring events are worthy of [his] attention” (p. 113). Few in our congregation are as well-educated as T. David Gordon, but they know when an author is putting on airs.

Allow me to comment on one final example: on page 100, he relates how the congregation he pastored sang without accompaniment for six to nine months not because accompaniment was unavailable, but because what he (or, possibly, the congregation) considered appropriate accompaniment was unavailable. In sharing this anecdote, he offers no concession to the reality faced by many Churches whose members don’t sing very well, and lack musically gifted people who can teach them to sing or facilitate their singing with the best possible accompaniment. That is to say, the average Christian whose congregation is doing its level-but-in-all-honesty-mediocre best, as aesthetically unimpressive as that may be, to sing praises to their Savior each Lord’s Day almost cannot help but be irritated by page 100 of Why Johnny Can’t Sing Hymns.

And therein lies the tragic irony of an author who understands the relationship between messages and meta-messages (endnote 7) (pp. 65-66), but has written a book whose message is obscured by the average reader’s impulse to kill the messenger. I invoke tragedy seriously: T. David Gordon offers a much-needed reorientation to the now decades-long controversy over worship music which could help further the discussion along productive lines. Every chapter of this book offers insights which should help any Christian better understand how and why he sings to his Lord, but Gordon appears unable to present these in a manner irenic or helpful to a popular audience.

In retrospect, our session probably erred when we distributed Why Johnny Can’t Sing Hymns to our congregation, although I am confident in our members’ Christian maturity and ability to profit even from poorly presented arguments. To others, I recommend you read and study this book in session, perhaps along with your congregation’s musicians, and then determine how best to convey its insights to your members. For example, the pastor could give some lectures which distill this book’s arguments and perspectives. Odds are very good you will do a better job at applying charity to polemical theology than does T. David Gordon.

1) Fully a quarter of this book is taken up by a “Preface,” “Acknowledgements,” an “Introduction,” and “Introductory Considerations.” Seriously?

2) Forty-four but still boyishly handsome, thanks for asking.

3) One is tempted to say “his personality,” but that might not be entirely charitable.

4) The experience of our other church officers who led discussions was similar.

5)  See also p. 99. A factually incorrect assertion, incidentally: I witnessed it done at our presbytery’s Bible camp last summer. The guitar may not be the best accompaniment for this hymn, but it is competent.

6) Gordon invokes “commercial forces” in much the same way your paranoid uncle brings up “the Trilateral Commission.”

7) Speaking of which, I’m obviously fond of using the footnote to insert clever comments. Others, however, find Gordon’s similar practice off-putting. Also, he has a tendency to put some substantive information in his footnotes, which can be missed by those not trained to read them.

Regarding "Regarding 'A Critic of Contemporary Christian Music Reviews the OPC Psalter-Hymnal'"

A postscript to my recent post, Regarding "A Critic of Contemporary Christian Music Reviews the OPC Psalter-Hymnal," in which I mentioned the song "Shine, Jesus, Shine:" at our presbytery's recent Bible camp, a college student said she'd never heard of it, and someone else described it to her as "an old song."

Proof positive that the debate over worship music has passed my generation by.

Regarding "A Critic of Contemporary Christian Music Reviews the OPC Psalter-Hymnal"

Given my inclination to advocate for singing Psalms in worship, several persons have asked why I ran B. Censorious's "A Critic of Contemporary Christian Music Reviews the OPC Psalter-Hymnal." Simply put, I thought it a fine example of the "criticizing worsip music" genre of which reformed writers of the last several decades seem so fond, and further thought it would be a shame were I the only one to enjoy it.

When I first began reading works of this genre a couple decades ago, it occurred to me that many of the criticisms leveled against whatever kind of worship song the writer did not like (whether classic hymns or contemporary worship music) were presented as though they were careful theological conclusions despite the writer failing to give Scriptural backing for his arguments, and I wondered whether these were actually expressions of aesthetic and personal preference. It further seemed to me that the Psalms themselves could be faulted along the same lines that, say, "Shine, Jesus, Shine" is so widely criticized. In that light, Mr. Censorious's review article represents the natural conclusion of a reflexive urge to condemn uninspired worship songs.

I do believe there are any number of reasons to reject songs of any vintage as inappropriate for Christian worship. At the same time, I believe those who are quick to reject songs ought to be sure none of their reasons for so doing could not equally well be applied to the Psalter.

A Critic of Contemporary Christian Music Reviews the OPC Psalter-Hymnal

(The Presbyterian Curmudgeon is proud to present a guest post by his slightly less well-known cousin, B. Censorious.)

Now that the Committee on Christian Education has made available for public comment its proposed Psalter-Hymnal, I find I can no longer stay my pen from its consideration. However, and perhaps to the surprise of some, I shall not review the musical arrangements of the Psalms, and this because to do so would be to distract from the more foundational question which should concern any who would undertake to press a Psalter into the unsuspecting hands of a worshiping congregation. That is, are the Psalms appropriate for Christian worship?

The answer, of course, is no. The reasons for said answer are perhaps innumerable, but I shall here undertake to enumerate at least a few.

Firstly, one finds no intelligent reflection on the fullness of Trinitarian revelation made known in the New Testament in the Psalter, let alone any mention of our Savior’s name. No doubt some will protest that the Lord’s “Anointed” is mentioned in Psalm 2, but really? Why such reluctance? Why the resort to vague euphemism, and why only the one reference? Are the psalmists embarrassed by basic Christian doctrine, or are they perhaps ignorant of it? And while one hates to cast aspersions, one must wonder if something more than ignorance of orthodoxy is at work here; perhaps one finds a latter-day resurgence of Arianism in texts like Psalm 110?

No doubt the partisan adherents of this new Psalter will protest that we read error where, at worst, there is mere omission. Sadly, this is the least of the Psalms’ faults. Too many of them emphasize, if not adulate, the Law while utterly neglecting the Gospel, as exemplified right at the beginning in Psalm 1. (I shall not mention the giddy excesses of Psalm 119 in this regard.) One wonders whether the uninvited push for Psalm-singing is not intended to make  neonomian endeavors such as “Evangelicals and Catholics Together” more palatable to the reformed community.

While the occasional Psalm does make mention of the broader Church and the worshiping community, these welcome respites are buried in a virtual tide of individualism and man-centeredness. Consider the barrage of Psalms 3 through 7, in which David goes on as if the Lord of the universe were preoccupied with nothing more than petty slights to this man’s reputation. Hardly better is the schizophrenic moodiness of the “Yahweh-is-my-boyfriend” genre, exemplified by Psalms 40 and 42. Then when the needs of the community are finally considered, as in Psalm 137, the immature psalmist concludes with an unchristian call for a violent vengeance which includes infanticide. Are these songs really the best the OPC can do?

Sadly, no review of the Psalms would be complete without a consideration of their (for lack of a better term) literary merit. One thinks immediately of Psalm 136 with its droning, mantra-like repetitiveness, which has surely (if unwittingly) been influenced by Eastern religion. A less obvious, but equally troubling, repetition of theme can be found throughout the Psalter, as, for example, in Psalms 146-150. Really, do Psalms 147-150 say anything substantial which has not already been said in Psalm 146? Given the relatively small number of songs the editors could include in the Psalter, one wonders why they did not exert themselves to gather a more comprehensive range of subject matter. 

Still worse is the Psalms’ use of imagery. Take Psalm 110, in which David lurches from one image and location to another so rapidly as to induce whiplash, concluding with a metaphor unrelated to anything which has gone before and utterly inscrutable in itself. Equally confusing is Psalm 32, in which David appears to be addressing God until verse 8, at which point the reader has no way of knowing whether the speaker is still David or has become God or someone else still, let alone who is being addressed. While one does not wish to condescend, this is what one might expect when the serious work of writing sacred poetry is left to a man trained in animal husbandry and combat rather than one with a sound seminary education.

All these problems, we should note, belong to the Psalms as originally written. The Committee on Christian Education assures us the proposed Psalter-Hymnal uses only the most accurate translations and the best available musical settings, but one cannot make a silk purse from a sow’s ear. We must have songs for worship services, but surely there are better places to find them than in the Bible.

Yet more on Psalmody

To the editor:

  In the June 2014 issue of New Horizons, R. Gaffin offers a brief consideration of Psalm 137 in order to question its propriety in public worship, and from thence to assert total psalmody (the use of all 150 Psalms in Christian worship) is not required of the Church today. Living in Denver, in the heart of the Great American Desert, our congregation has never had occasion to sing "Eternal Father, Strong to Save," a petition for "those in peril on the sea," and I can hardly imagine a time when we will. Nevertheless, I am sure that hymn will find a place in some congregation's worship. A hymnal is for all congregations everywhere, as is a psalter-hymnal; while Mr. Gaffin wonders whether Psalm 137 is "suitable for singing in public worship," I would guess that some pastor somewhere today thinks it highly suitable. 

  Not incidentally, this argument (that our congregation should have the option of singing all 150 Psalms for whatever occasion may arise in her corporate life) led our session to authorize the purchase of The Trinity Psalter some years ago to supplement The Trinity Hymnal. The continued existence of that Psalter (not to mention the recently revised RPCNA Psalter or the also updated Canadian Reformed Book of Praise, amongst many extant psalter-hymnals) by itself questions the need for an OPC psalter-hymnal. The Church should be able to sing all the Psalms and songs of Scripture; need she do so from an OPC-branded songbook?

grace & peace,

 The Presbyterian Curmudgeon