Candlemas

I heard an interesting sermon that touched on the themes of Candlemas today (though the festival itself is a week away yet). What were at one time significant community occasions have now faded into all but insignificance, even within the Church. The great themes of recognition, salvation, and light are really still as important as ever; much modern worship trivialises them (one of the worship songs featured on tonight's "Songs of Praise" was truly awful, and others weren't much better - and this is said by someone who enjoys modern music. I just expect the modern music I sing in church to be at least as good, both lyrically and as a tune, as the music I choose to play in my car. The best is; but there's too much of the other . . . and most of the lyrics have no depth.

I remember organising a Candlemas gallery carol service at Minsterley, with musicians in our minstrel's gallery (normally closed off from the main body of the church by perspex screens, and choir singers below. We used, among others, a traditional Candlemas carol part of which was read out in today's sermon . . . about taking down the old Christmas greenery and putting up the new, greenery that looked forward to spring. Proper carols were songs of the people, set to the best dance tunes of the day, and balancing sincere faith with a subversive attitude toward the structures of the Church (and therefore, in those days, of society). Amen to both sides of that balance.

At the Arddleen Tabernacle plygain a week ago I sang Paul Wigmore's song "Light beyond shadow" to John Dankworth's lovely tune. Today's "Songs of Praise" opened with "Sing of the Lord's Goodness", another hymn with a good jazz feel to it (and a great descant, though that didn't feature today). Now that's what I call faith music . . . that and gallery carols, oh, and - well let's just say a hoorah for good music wherever and whatever it may be. We can do much better than we sometimes do, but it's clear that the devil doesn't have all the best tunes.