Project Overview
Rite 7 is first and foremost a celebration of the gifts of our artists and their ability to integrate music from a variety of genres, sources, and era into the fabric of our gathered worship.
But, this project also takes on a mantle of advocacy. One point of this advocacy is to offer an example of the liturgical use of music. Though we value and honor many philosophies of the use of music in gathered worship, a liturgical use of music has been challenging and transformative for our community. Recently, I wrote the following as a blog post as an effort to better define this style:
"By [liturgical music], we mean that our music (tone, composition, lyrics) is selected with liturgical intent in mind. We hope that the music conveys a variety of voices of our community as worshipers and the voices of the church historically. Hence we draw from music written within our own community for its worship use, the works of the historical church. In this manner, the music is a "work" or "response" of the people (the traditional definition of "liturgy"). As liturgy, the music also expands our text dialogs by raising new ideas, challenging our thoughts, and poetically expressing responses that are visceral to us as worshipers. Without critiquing other forms of worship music, there are subtle differences to this methodology. Though we greatly value "experience," we don't typically allow the "experience" of the music to dominate our choices. For example, much worship music is chosen and executed with the dominant measure of “how the congregation experiences or responds to the music in mind.” Intentions such as “having fun” or “getting in the right mood” can dominate the design process. In so doing, one runs the risk of corporate worship becoming an inoculation or "pick-me-up" for the rest of the week turning worship into a moment or service of the church rather than the corporate voice of those who perpetually live in a posture of worship (or at least try to do so!). The previous point naturally provokes questions of “accessibility.” Does this emphasis make our music more obscure for the worshiping community? This is a legitimate challenge. We are passionate about accessibility in art (demanding that any art form we employ, regardless of its complexity, have clear points of intersection the worshiping community). In using music liturgically, we stress many forms of accessibility besides ease or enjoyment in corporate singing. We are constantly asking many other questions of access. Do the musical texts raise ideas that provoke interaction, thought, missional response, and prayer? Does the music offer voice to a variety of responses where worshipers might need help in expression (like lament, curiosity, whimsy, anger, etc.) These are all critical measures of accessibility. We want our art to be honest. When there are tensions, mysteries, or laments — to give voice to these issues and emotions rather than resolving them with oversimplifications or even dishonest platitudes. This is the beauty of music liturgy. We are invited into a tension and depth of reflection in a poetic, memorable, and reflective manner. Music allows us to "sit" or "marinate" in a difficult or critical tension."
Much more could certainly be added about these experiments and experiences in liturgy (and the beauty of an online music project is that we will continually add and subtract to this content as we learn).
We have shaped the display of this project around the mass (we tend to draw heavily from The Book of Common Prayer). This reflects our typical order of worship gathering. We have found that this provides a powerful context to actual music used. Rather than just standing alone as a song or a “moment,” each piece of music is grafted into a long, rich tradition of worship expression (like “confession” or “absolution”). Much of our music fits into multiple components of the traditional liturgy (see comments on this embedded in the comments about each song). When a song, which we typically use as a confession, is relocated to a “call to gather” or a benediction that sends us out, the piece (even if performed similarly) takes on entirely different construct as if the musicians had introduced a radical key change. Such is the power of liturgical construct, like different forms of light striking a precious stone.
This brings me back to a second point of advocacy. In Christian communities, many describe music as “secular” or “sacred” driving an impenetrable wedge of appropriateness in available music. This categorization of music can be reflective of a larger understanding of worship that locates worship in certain moments and environments rather than in our whole life posture before God and God’s creation.
In choosing music for corporate
worship, we largely ignore these categories. Instead we choose
music by its honesty and skill in expression, its sensitivity toward
to the aims of worship, and its connectivity to our community as worshipers
(hence not entirely ignoring experience in our design). As this
collection grows, you will see some of our passion for the craft of
folk songwriters and performers. But hopefully, you will also
see music gleaned throughout history and across genre labels.
We have considered the entire library of the historical church and “great”
music (an entirely subjective label) of every genre our palate.
Finally, we hope our labors will inspire other communities to press the contours of music in worship. We also hope that this music can become a part of personal worship expressions. We have often encouraged the Emmaus Way community to develop and explore new disciplines and practices of prayer. Many of us “pray the hours” as a part of our personal and family rhythms of intentional worship. We are very sensitive to these practices in choosing music for our gatherings, hoping these expressions can be easily transported to other contexts.
Blessings
Tim, Wade, and community of musicians at Emmaus Way
