Nehemiah 12 | Wayfarer

For long ago, in the days of David and Asaph, there had been directors for the musicians and for the songs of praise and thanksgiving to God.
Nehemiah 12:46 (NIV)

This past week, Wendy and I went to a craft brewhouse in Des Moines. About three times a year they have an event called “Hymns at the Hall.” There was a large gathering of people that night. There were young families with children playing board games. There were older folks (I guess you have to start including me in that demographic). It was a fascinating mix of people who gathered to eat, drink, and sing the old hymns of the faith together.

Along my spiritual journey, I have experienced that music can be the subject of tremendous religious passion for some people. I grew up with hymns accompanied by a pipe organ and traditional choral music. I witnessed the emergence and growth of the “contemporary” music industry. Music within the churches I’ve associated has shifted radically in one generation. Most children today have never seen a hymnal or sung in a church choir in which you had to learn to read music and sing harmony.

So here’s the thing: I have lent my ears to friends who bemoan the changes as watering down and diminishing worship. I have witnessed heated debates over the theological implications of certain songs. My observation is this: music continues to change and evolve as does music’s place in worship. With all of the change, there are three things that are constant:

Our general discomfort with change.
Music’s ability to stir spirit, emotion, and thought (sometimes it does all three at the same time) in individuals and groups.
Worthwhile things that are discarded by culture as “dead and gone” are eventually resurrected to experience new life.

We are nearing the end of Nehemiah’s account of the return of the Hebrew exiles from Persia and the rebuilding of the walls and gates of Jerusalem. In the previous chapter, the people made a legally binding agreement to rededicate themselves to the law of Moses, the responsibilities of the sacrificial system, and the contributions required to keep Temple worship going. In today’s chapter, Nehemiah calls all of the musicians together from the region and forms two great choirs to march around the top of the wall in worship and dedication.

At the end of the chapter Nehemiah observes:

For long ago, in the days of David and Asaph, there had been directors for the musicians and for the songs of praise and thanksgiving to God.
Nehemiah 12:46 (NIV)

In other words, the music of worship and of the Temple had been silenced for many years. It had been silenced at least 70 years since the destruction of the Babylonian siege. It may have been silenced before that. Nehemiah was resurrecting a worthwhile thing of the past and breathing new life into it for the discovery of a new generation. The subtext of the statement feels as if Nehemiah is defending the action and explaining his rationale for those who are grumbling about the change (see my first bullet above).

As my friends and I shared our “Hymns at the Hall” on social media, we had friends and family who seemed to bristle at the idea of singing hymns and drinking beer at the same time. I quietly smiled to myself knowing that hymn writers such as Martin Luther and Charles Wesley often took melodies of well-known songs that were sung in bars and taverns and changed the lyrics. In the days of illiterate and uneducated masses, it was easier if they used tunes that everyone knew (and everyone knew popular bar songs). Ironic that the songs have found their way back home. As I sang I watched people being stirred. You can take the hymns out of the church, but you can’t take God out of the hymns.

In the quiet this morning, Alexa is playing Gregorian Chant and ancient choral music, which is what I prefer in my quiet time with God. Later in the day, I’ll switch to more contemporary worship music as Wendy and I work in the home office. This evening we might switch to Gypsy Jazz, blues, or the music of the Rat Pack as dinner is prepared.

I don’t get too hung up on music. For me, is not a “holy” or “unholy” “either, or” binary thing. Sure, any good thing can be coopted for profane reasons, but it’s easy to turn it off or tell Alexa to skip a song. For me, music is a “both, and” equation.

The family heads among the descendants of Levi up to the time of Johanan son of Eliashib were recorded in the book of the annals.
Nehemiah 12:23 (NIV)

A friend dropped off copies of an old program at the house the other day. They had been unearthed in the estate of a local citizen recently deceased. The programs were from the grand opening of our local community center back in 1989 and our community theatre (just a fledgling organization trying to get off the ground at that time) had a part in the festivities. It was interesting for me to look through the program and see who performed, what was performed, and how the community went about celebrating the center’s opening.

When you blog for any length of time you’re likely, on occasion, to have visitors who take an exception with its content. In my humble opinion, one of the unfortunate outcomes of our social media culture is the ability for people to take snarky pot shots at others from afar. I grieve what appears to be our waning ability to have civil public discourse about our disagreements, especially in our political arena. At the same time, how cool that I can daily publish a blog post that can be instantly accessed and read by billions of people around the world. (“Can be” being the operative words as, on a good day, I eke out only 200 or so visitors from those billions of potential readers)

I received a comment yesterday on a very old blog post I’d written years ago, that was from a chapter of the Bible like today’s. The comment began by insulting my intelligence and then proceeded to criticize the chapter, and the Bible as a whole, for not being appropriately addressing the politically correct issues of our day. It then ended with by criticizing the Bible as terrible literature.

Of course, the humble Hebrew scribes who scratched out the words of the books of law and history in the Old Testament some 3,000 years ago were not concerned with literary merit in the 21st century American sense. Neither were they concerned with animal welfare or human rights in our modern way of thinking of such things. Using stylus on papyrus they were simply concerned with preserving historical record. Even in today’s chapter it self-describes the contents as a “book of the annals.” It was no more intended to be a work of literature than the program from our Community Center’s grand opening.

One of the most fascinating, and sometimes maddening, challenges of reading God’s Message is that it is not a literary work in the classic sense. It’s a compilation of historical record, code of law, poetry, song lyric, prophecy, biography, and personal correspondence. It’s more puzzle than prose. It was all written in other languages in ancient cultures on the other side of the world. The story is not told in literal, linear fashion. The story emerges over time and requires patience, and the openness of both brain hemispheres, to perceive and embrace the over arching narrative. Those who wish it to read like a 21st century novel will be understandably frustrated, confused, and disappointed.