Thursday, 16 July 2009

Praise Him all you little children!


I am not a child, neither do I have children, so in many ways I am completely unqualified to comment on the subject of children's hymns. I certainly don't think that just because I do not like singing or listening to songs about Jesus wanting me for a sunbeam or similar, our brethren of tenderer years should be deprived of them if they find them an enjoyable and edifying means of devotional expression. It is very important to make church fun for children, but I sometimes wonder if, in fact, we are doing them a disservice by serving them up with children's versions of everything. A small child of my acquaintance likes nothing better than singing endless verses of "Glory be to Jesus", indeed his appetite for hymning the virtues of the Precious Blood could scarcely be greater, and although he has certainly been exposed to "If I were a butterfly..." it has not had anything like the same effect on him.

This occured to me again recently while reading "A Late Beginner" Priscilla Napier's beautifully-written memoir of a childhood spent in England and Egypt during and at either end of the Great War. Even in those days there were Sunday School hymns, the musical equivalent of their wholesome, but dull, boiled fish and boiled milk nursery meals, and the young Priscilla is not impressed with either the culinary or the musical attempts to cater for the young. One disappointing week "Bright the vision that delighted" and "Onward Christian Soldiers" are replaced by the far less rousing "Praise Him, Praise Him all ye little children, He is Love, He is Love." This new hymn is only made interesting for her when an equally unimpressed, and rather braver child starts revising the words, showing surreal and splendid powers of invention .

"Serve Him, Serve Him, all ye little soapsuds," Peter carolled. I listened entranced, to see where the flight of his fancy would carry him next. His face was radiant with enjoyment, his feet beat out the rhythm, no fire from Heaven descended to consume him, "Crown Him, Crown Him, all ye little wigwams," Peter sang on. This was too much for me, and I was told sternly to go outside until I could stop laughing."

By contrast, the nine-year old Priscilla finds in the "Te Deum" a glorious expression of her serious, though childish, religious feeling. Indeed, so enchanted is she by the line "To Thee Cherubim and Seraphim continually, continually, CONTINUALLY do cry" that she gets stuck on it, and has to be gently reminded by her mother that they have now got to "Vouchsafe, O Lord..." She explains her preference by saying that, "It was the same idea, only how much less soppily expressed"

Of course I am not trying to suggest that we skip the milk and go straight on to solid food either culinarily, theologically or musically; I am not calling for a ban on children's hymns. However, I think sometimes we can underestimate what children can cope with. I was not exposed to the sort of hymns I enjoy now as a child and therefore cannot say how I would have reacted, but there were many other "grown-up" things, perhaps especially the 1950's comedy of Flanders and Swann which I loved as a five year old although I scarcely understood a word of them. Some of it my parents explained to me, some of it remained mysterious until a lesson at school, or a book gave me a clue as to its meaning. One way and another, they kept me entertained and taught me a number of interesting things. The analogy with religious music is not exact, but we should not be afraid of introducing to children things which contain hard words or hard ideas: they will ask questions, some of it will remain mysterious for a while, but that does not mean that children will not enjoy and benefit from the rousing tunes and poetry of "grown-up" hymns.

Wednesday, 15 July 2009

Catholic or Calvinist?


So you thought you were an Anglo-Catholic, Anglican Catholic, Catholic Anglican, catholic in the C of E or just Catholic. Are you sure? Are you really sure? Are you sure you're not....

a Calvinist

Put your mind at rest and take the Calvinist Test

(from Trouw newspaper via Faith Central)

I get 50% in the Calvinist Test so it could be worse, but then it could be better too. Amusingly the final question asks if you could have done anything better with the last five minutes than filling in the quiz. I gave the sensible Calvinist answer of 'Yes'.