How would you respond should a member of your parish music ministry mentions to you before, during or after performing your shared duties at Mass, “Man, I have so much fun doing this! Isn’t it fun for you, too?”
Before deliberating your response, the issue rests upon your shoulders, not upon those of your colleague who uttered both the exclamation and the question. Well, for my part, I would search my memory banks and conscience simultaneously to see if the word “fun” has any resonance of meaning within the context of worship, as I now understand it. I guess this utilizes the I Corinthians 13 exam criterion, “When I was a child, I spoke like a child….” Another caveat: try to avoid characterizing your colleague according to their specific roll and duties in music ministry. It’s just as reasonable to imagine that one’s organist, a master improviser, could think aloud after a deft, imaginative and wonderful postlude, “Wow, that was FUN,” just as would a LifeTeen kit drummer after being part of a cohesively tight rendition of “Awesome God,” or perhaps even a gifted and facile chorister who soars through the versicle of a gradual or alleluia with peerless perfection.
I think we can dispense with the admonition of our Lord to “suffer the little children to come unto me” as a defense of describing our service and office at liturgy as “fun.” So, let’s just move on to a safer platform upon which we can consider the emotion, or state of being we commonly call “joy.” Somewhere between the poles of a spirit-filled choir/congregation belting out “Rejoice in the Lord always, again I say REJOICE” in full abandon and the Introit for III Sunday, Advent, is a question of exactly how do we manifest the notion, or even mandate that we represent and/or express “joy” in our duties as both servants of the liturgy and Christians?
As a choirmaster generally regarded as a taskmaster, many of my current and former singers would likely agree “He sure has a mean way of showing he’s happy!.” But that’s a burden I carry primarily only in rehearsals. And I’ve taken great pains to minimize those behaviors which would lead folks to depict me so, alas to mixed reviews. But at worship, what is the proper measure of joy in all of our individual and corporate efforts to effect music that is “sacred, beautiful and universal?” Are we called to represent some sort of “affect,” like the emotive associations that Baroque theorists ascribed to specific key tonalities? Or are we better off just making sure that after sufficient rehearsal, we render any and all text and music settings in a stoic, expressionless façade, even though the product evidences the joy of mastery and accomplishment? Of course, reality exacts from me the possible truth that most of our choristers have their eyes and noses fixed firmly towards their scores until the final cadence, at which time their most likely facial response would suggest “Pop pop, fizz fizz, oh what a relief it is!” And them some might actually look at our facial demeanor with trepidation or anticipation to know if “joy” is warranted, if only internally.
I’ve recalled the one experience I was afforded to prepare and conduct the Allegri “Miserere” as one of the supreme moments of elation I’ve known at service. Is that aberrant? In May, I will be graced to conduct a large and capable choir and orchestra in the performance of the Mozart “Requiem.” And as a chorister under Wilko Brouwers singing the Brudieu setting three summers ago, there was exquisite joy in every aspect of that endeavor for me. Is there something wrong with this picture? Or, is it much more an elegantly simple and natural response to the grace and gift by God to us intrinsic within the objective of composition and singing of sacral texts to inspired musical composition?
Does “joy” have a face or façade in the musical acts of worship?
SPECIAL ADDED ATTRACTION!
For your consideration, intersecting both this thread on “Joy” and my previous post on
“Circumabulation and Processions, the Ovum Introit!”