Sacred Harp Singing and the Christian Eschatological Imagination
by Jason Steidl
Jason Steidl is a third-year Ph.D. student in systematic theology at Fordham University, and an avid Sacred Harp singer.
Imagine singing that feels and sounds like heaven: an experience of music that overcomes political, racial, religious, and class distinctions in a community where all the voices are welcome and glad to sing to their fullest and best ability. This description of singing may seem a far cry from the experiences most Christians have in church on Sunday mornings, but it is a common experience today in Sacred Harp singing. Sacred Harp is based on a centuries-old tradition of American folk hymnody. Today, the community that sings Sacred Harp is diverse and embodies through its singing and fellowship the ideals of the Christian eschatological imagination. This article will explore the forms of Sacred Harp singing that contribute to singers’ unity and participation in a tradition which Christians can imitate to benefit their communities of faith.
Sacred Harp or shape-note singing derives from several parallel developments in American cultural and religious history. The tradition’s origins are in Puritan colonial America, where, after generations of rejecting choirs and polyphony as a part of “papist” culture, congregational music had gone through a dramatic period of decline.1 Church singing then consisted of lining out music, wherein a leader would sing one line of a psalm or other scripture and the congregation would follow in unison. Reformed leaders intended for this method of congregational singing to give every believer an equal voice and allow all to participate in the simple music. Over time, however, singing had devolved into discord. According to contemporary accounts, by the early 1700s, many congregations knew only a handful of tunes, which they sang very slowly in free rhythm, with very little emphasis on musical agreement. Tunes varied widely from church to church and congregants rarely repeated the same notes of the lined-out hymns together. Unhappy with their musical situation, a group of pastors employed itinerant singing masters to instruct their congregations in days or weeks-long singing schools so that singing might be more agreeable in church services.2 The singing tradition that developed within this Congregationalist setting emphasized that all people were capable of learning music and singing songs well together. Over time, the singing school movement spread across the country and, while often sponsored by churches, was also outside the purview of denominational control.3
Singing masters supported themselves by teaching singing schools and selling songbooks full of song collections, which often included their own musical compositions along with popular tunes. The lyrics included poetry written by many of the great authors of Anglo-Protestant hymnody such as Isaac Watts and Charles Wesley, whose inclusion in Protestant hymn books was itself an innovation from the earlier reformed psalters and lined-out singing of scripture.4In 1801, William Little and William Smith, two singing masters, applied John Connelly’s recently-invented shape-note singing system to their pedagogical books. Along with naming degrees of the moveable scale “fa,” “so,” “la,” and “mi,” a long-standing part of English musical tradition, they printed their music with the shapes of a triangle, circle, square, and diamond that corresponded to the notes. This system of musical pedagogy, like earlier methods, was intended to make learning music far easier for non-professional musicians, who could read the names of the shape notes without having to know how to read music.5
With time, communities of singing associations and conventions developed around the most popular shape note books. Individuals gathered into organized groups not to perform, but for the purpose of singing together. Like the earlier singing school tradition, these were extra-ecclesial singings that operated outside of Sunday morning services. Shape note singing was an activity where denominational differences were subordinated to the common tradition.6 In the nineteenth century, the music migrated to the southern United States, where it remained popular long after northerners rejected shape note singing’s rough-hewn harmonies and lyrics in favor of the sweeter European musical styles then in vogue.7 Since then, The Sacred Harp, originally published in 1844, has been the most successful shape note book and tradition. Its title expresses, like the institutional singing it represents, the conviction that all can be musicians and sing to God’s glory, regardless of ability or background. The sacred harp—the human voice—is an instrument that all possess, regardless of their station or situation.
With the folk music revival of the 1960s and 1970s, inspired in large part by the earlier work of ethno-musicologists such as George Pullen Jackson and Alan Lomax, Sacred Harp singing returned to the northern United States once more.8Today it has continued to spread throughout the United States, where large groups meet regularly from coast to coast in major cities and towns for weekly and monthly singings. Popular annual conventions draw singers from all over the world to sing in large groups and share in each other’s generous hospitality. A tradition that incubated for more than a century and a half in the bosom of the deep South has exploded in the revival of a folk tradition that crosses all geographic boundaries. It has even spread to other continents, with lively singings held weekly in cities across the UK and Ireland. Larger annual events have also been organized in the UK, Ireland, Poland, Germany, and Australia.
Kiri Miller’s 2008 work, Travelling Home: Sacred Harp and American Pluralism, offers a systematic study of Sacred Harp singers and traditions from an ethno-musicological perspective. Calling on William Safran’s categories, her insider’s account describes the Sacred Harp singing community as a diaspora spread across vast geographical distances with: “an idealized homeland; a sense of alienation or resistance to assimilation in the host society; a commitment to supporting the homeland both materially and ideologically; a desire for eventual return there; and diaspora consciousness, a self-aware solidarity defined by an ongoing relationship with the homeland.”9
For singers, the idealized homeland is the South, the bastion of a tradition constantly under attack from powerful cultural forces of assimilation. Singers’ identities are bound to the singing community, which as a strong network reinforces the traditions and ethos of the singing culture. Most singers trace their singing heritage through various lines of authority and practice within the tradition. As Miller writes, “The Sacred Harp diaspora is oriented around descent-based kinship discourses and a strong sense of obligation to a historical and geographical homeland in the South.”10 In spite of this commitment to tradition, regional styles have developed along different lines of the singing tradition.11 Some singers from certain regions in the Northeast, for example, often stomp their feet to keep with the fast-paced beat, while singers in the deep South may frown upon such northern enthusiasm as ostentatious excess.
Kiri Miller also draws on James Clifford’s classification of de-centered diasporas to explain Sacred Harp singing. For Clifford, the de-centered diaspora is oriented around a reinvented tradition, the presence of an authoritative book, and a portable eschatology, rather than a national territory.12 Miller believes the de-centered Sacred Harp diaspora has been reinvented through the folk music revolution and its many different manifestations in varied cultural contexts. The diaspora’s authoritative book is The Sacred Harp itself, which outlines the rudiments for singing and offers a canon of hymns. The group’s portable eschatology finds its source and aim within the act of singing together, which is the foundation of shared community and the ultimate end for singing friendships. Miller contends the singers’ experience is best represented in the leading of songs at the center of the hollow square, the shape of the Sacred Harp seating arrangement. This space represents for Miller the “portable homeland” around which the diaspora gathers and from which it draws its strength of identity.13 I will return to this idea of the Sacred Harp spatial imagination shortly.
Interestingly, though the emphasis on maintaining singing tradition and identity is strong, today singers come from a wide variety of backgrounds. Often, the only thing singers have in common is their love of singing. Still, this love is strong enough to overcome countless differences that separate singers outside of Sacred Harp. The community is composed of singers with economic resources and those without; of those from the country and those from the city; of young and old, of black and white, of Christian and atheist, of gay and straight, of conservative and liberal. Though Sacred Harp lyrics are explicitly and unapologetically Christian—often in a stark, 18th century sort of way—singers are not necessarily believers.14 It is not uncommon at singings in the Northeast, for example, for the groups to be composed primarily of Jews, Buddhists, atheists, and secular agnostics. These religious signifiers fade away with the singing, however, and friendships easily develop between groups like plainclothes Anabaptist Christians from central Pennsylvania and gay agnostic Jews from Manhattan. As Kiri Miller describes, “Sacred Harp singing today bears the marks of its history as part of an American religious culture that has been disestablished, culturally pluralistic, structurally adaptable, and often empowering from its earliest days.”15 The affection Sacred Harp singers have for one another overcomes all the distinctions that plague the outside world.
In many ways, these components of Sacred Harp singing are a mirror image of Christian eschatology. Christian tradition, in both its scriptures and hymnody, encourages a lively imagination about future experiences of heaven and the fulfillment of time. This imagination about heaven, which pervades Christian texts, includes both impassioned singing and the overcoming of identity distinctions that separate humanity on earth—two key elements of Sacred Harp tradition. Psalm 22:27, for example, imagines the eschaton, when “All the ends of the world shall remember and turn unto the Lord: and all the kindreds of the nations shall worship before thee.”16 Isaiah 2 and Micah 4 offer a fuller image of how this eschatological world will look. Future days of peace and reconciliation will come to fulfillment when “the mountain of the Lord’s house shall be established on the top of the mountains” and “And all nations shall flow into it.” The conflicts that separated and divided the nations before will be judged and resolved by God’s authority, which finds its center in the heavenly city. Isaiah 56:7 awaits the day when God’s house will be called a house of prayer for all people.
The universal vision of God’s kingdom continues in the New Testament, where Christ describes in Luke 13:29 how God’s reign overcomes geographical distinctions when its inhabitants “shall come from the east, and from the west, and from the north, and from the south, and shall sit down in the kingdom of God.” In the book of Acts, the first work of the Holy Spirit is to speak in tongues of fire so that people from all nations of the world can understand God’s reconciling power. Perhaps the most compelling image of diversity in the eschaton, however, comes from Revelation, where the martyrs in Revelation 7:9 are described as “a great multitude, which no man could number, of all nations, and kindreds, and people, and tongues, (who) stood before the throne, and before the Lamb, clothed with white robes, and palms in their hands.”
In addition to the overcoming of divisions, the scriptures also speak often of the singing that takes place under God’s reign. In the Old Testament, the psalms resound with the singing that occurs in God’s temple and around God’s throne. Psalm 100:1-2 calls God’s servants to “Make a joyful noise unto the Lord, all ye lands. Serve the Lord with gladness: come before his presence with singing.” Psalm 68:1-4 foresees the triumph of God’s power : “Let God arise, let his enemies be scattered. . . . But let the righteous be glad; let them rejoice before God: yea, let them exceedingly rejoice. Sing unto God, sing praises to his name: extol him that rideth upon the heavens by his name JAH, and rejoice before him.” Psalms 67:4 says, “O let the nations be glad and sing for joy: for thou shalt judge the people righteously, and govern the nations upon earth.” God’s ultimate triumph, these verses claim, merits human praise in the form of singing. The author of Zechariah 2:10 calls on the Daughter of Zion to “Sing and rejoice . . . for, lo, I come, and I will dwell in the midst of thee, saith the Lord.” In Revelation 5:7, all of creation joins with the saints to sing God’s praises in heaven. “Then I heard every creature in heaven and on earth and under the earth and on the sea, and all that is in them, singing: ‘To him who sits on the throne and to the Lamb be praise and honor and glory and power, for ever and ever!’” For the Jewish and Christian imaginations, singing is the appropriate response to God’s reign. This takes place where God’s presence dwells and when God’s work has been completed on earth.
Heaven is full of singing. Several hymns of the Sacred Harp share in the Christian eschatological imagination as they look forward to the day when there will be no more divisions among humans and human desires will be fulfilled in singing God’s praises. #498, “The Resurrection Day” anticipates Christ’s return and prays,
Jason Steidl is a third-year Ph.D. student in systematic theology at Fordham University, and an avid Sacred Harp singer.
Imagine singing that feels and sounds like heaven: an experience of music that overcomes political, racial, religious, and class distinctions in a community where all the voices are welcome and glad to sing to their fullest and best ability. This description of singing may seem a far cry from the experiences most Christians have in church on Sunday mornings, but it is a common experience today in Sacred Harp singing. Sacred Harp is based on a centuries-old tradition of American folk hymnody. Today, the community that sings Sacred Harp is diverse and embodies through its singing and fellowship the ideals of the Christian eschatological imagination. This article will explore the forms of Sacred Harp singing that contribute to singers’ unity and participation in a tradition which Christians can imitate to benefit their communities of faith.
Sacred Harp or shape-note singing derives from several parallel developments in American cultural and religious history. The tradition’s origins are in Puritan colonial America, where, after generations of rejecting choirs and polyphony as a part of “papist” culture, congregational music had gone through a dramatic period of decline.1 Church singing then consisted of lining out music, wherein a leader would sing one line of a psalm or other scripture and the congregation would follow in unison. Reformed leaders intended for this method of congregational singing to give every believer an equal voice and allow all to participate in the simple music. Over time, however, singing had devolved into discord. According to contemporary accounts, by the early 1700s, many congregations knew only a handful of tunes, which they sang very slowly in free rhythm, with very little emphasis on musical agreement. Tunes varied widely from church to church and congregants rarely repeated the same notes of the lined-out hymns together. Unhappy with their musical situation, a group of pastors employed itinerant singing masters to instruct their congregations in days or weeks-long singing schools so that singing might be more agreeable in church services.2 The singing tradition that developed within this Congregationalist setting emphasized that all people were capable of learning music and singing songs well together. Over time, the singing school movement spread across the country and, while often sponsored by churches, was also outside the purview of denominational control.3
Singing masters supported themselves by teaching singing schools and selling songbooks full of song collections, which often included their own musical compositions along with popular tunes. The lyrics included poetry written by many of the great authors of Anglo-Protestant hymnody such as Isaac Watts and Charles Wesley, whose inclusion in Protestant hymn books was itself an innovation from the earlier reformed psalters and lined-out singing of scripture.4In 1801, William Little and William Smith, two singing masters, applied John Connelly’s recently-invented shape-note singing system to their pedagogical books. Along with naming degrees of the moveable scale “fa,” “so,” “la,” and “mi,” a long-standing part of English musical tradition, they printed their music with the shapes of a triangle, circle, square, and diamond that corresponded to the notes. This system of musical pedagogy, like earlier methods, was intended to make learning music far easier for non-professional musicians, who could read the names of the shape notes without having to know how to read music.5
With time, communities of singing associations and conventions developed around the most popular shape note books. Individuals gathered into organized groups not to perform, but for the purpose of singing together. Like the earlier singing school tradition, these were extra-ecclesial singings that operated outside of Sunday morning services. Shape note singing was an activity where denominational differences were subordinated to the common tradition.6 In the nineteenth century, the music migrated to the southern United States, where it remained popular long after northerners rejected shape note singing’s rough-hewn harmonies and lyrics in favor of the sweeter European musical styles then in vogue.7 Since then, The Sacred Harp, originally published in 1844, has been the most successful shape note book and tradition. Its title expresses, like the institutional singing it represents, the conviction that all can be musicians and sing to God’s glory, regardless of ability or background. The sacred harp—the human voice—is an instrument that all possess, regardless of their station or situation.
With the folk music revival of the 1960s and 1970s, inspired in large part by the earlier work of ethno-musicologists such as George Pullen Jackson and Alan Lomax, Sacred Harp singing returned to the northern United States once more.8Today it has continued to spread throughout the United States, where large groups meet regularly from coast to coast in major cities and towns for weekly and monthly singings. Popular annual conventions draw singers from all over the world to sing in large groups and share in each other’s generous hospitality. A tradition that incubated for more than a century and a half in the bosom of the deep South has exploded in the revival of a folk tradition that crosses all geographic boundaries. It has even spread to other continents, with lively singings held weekly in cities across the UK and Ireland. Larger annual events have also been organized in the UK, Ireland, Poland, Germany, and Australia.
Kiri Miller’s 2008 work, Travelling Home: Sacred Harp and American Pluralism, offers a systematic study of Sacred Harp singers and traditions from an ethno-musicological perspective. Calling on William Safran’s categories, her insider’s account describes the Sacred Harp singing community as a diaspora spread across vast geographical distances with: “an idealized homeland; a sense of alienation or resistance to assimilation in the host society; a commitment to supporting the homeland both materially and ideologically; a desire for eventual return there; and diaspora consciousness, a self-aware solidarity defined by an ongoing relationship with the homeland.”9
For singers, the idealized homeland is the South, the bastion of a tradition constantly under attack from powerful cultural forces of assimilation. Singers’ identities are bound to the singing community, which as a strong network reinforces the traditions and ethos of the singing culture. Most singers trace their singing heritage through various lines of authority and practice within the tradition. As Miller writes, “The Sacred Harp diaspora is oriented around descent-based kinship discourses and a strong sense of obligation to a historical and geographical homeland in the South.”10 In spite of this commitment to tradition, regional styles have developed along different lines of the singing tradition.11 Some singers from certain regions in the Northeast, for example, often stomp their feet to keep with the fast-paced beat, while singers in the deep South may frown upon such northern enthusiasm as ostentatious excess.
Kiri Miller also draws on James Clifford’s classification of de-centered diasporas to explain Sacred Harp singing. For Clifford, the de-centered diaspora is oriented around a reinvented tradition, the presence of an authoritative book, and a portable eschatology, rather than a national territory.12 Miller believes the de-centered Sacred Harp diaspora has been reinvented through the folk music revolution and its many different manifestations in varied cultural contexts. The diaspora’s authoritative book is The Sacred Harp itself, which outlines the rudiments for singing and offers a canon of hymns. The group’s portable eschatology finds its source and aim within the act of singing together, which is the foundation of shared community and the ultimate end for singing friendships. Miller contends the singers’ experience is best represented in the leading of songs at the center of the hollow square, the shape of the Sacred Harp seating arrangement. This space represents for Miller the “portable homeland” around which the diaspora gathers and from which it draws its strength of identity.13 I will return to this idea of the Sacred Harp spatial imagination shortly.
Interestingly, though the emphasis on maintaining singing tradition and identity is strong, today singers come from a wide variety of backgrounds. Often, the only thing singers have in common is their love of singing. Still, this love is strong enough to overcome countless differences that separate singers outside of Sacred Harp. The community is composed of singers with economic resources and those without; of those from the country and those from the city; of young and old, of black and white, of Christian and atheist, of gay and straight, of conservative and liberal. Though Sacred Harp lyrics are explicitly and unapologetically Christian—often in a stark, 18th century sort of way—singers are not necessarily believers.14 It is not uncommon at singings in the Northeast, for example, for the groups to be composed primarily of Jews, Buddhists, atheists, and secular agnostics. These religious signifiers fade away with the singing, however, and friendships easily develop between groups like plainclothes Anabaptist Christians from central Pennsylvania and gay agnostic Jews from Manhattan. As Kiri Miller describes, “Sacred Harp singing today bears the marks of its history as part of an American religious culture that has been disestablished, culturally pluralistic, structurally adaptable, and often empowering from its earliest days.”15 The affection Sacred Harp singers have for one another overcomes all the distinctions that plague the outside world.
In many ways, these components of Sacred Harp singing are a mirror image of Christian eschatology. Christian tradition, in both its scriptures and hymnody, encourages a lively imagination about future experiences of heaven and the fulfillment of time. This imagination about heaven, which pervades Christian texts, includes both impassioned singing and the overcoming of identity distinctions that separate humanity on earth—two key elements of Sacred Harp tradition. Psalm 22:27, for example, imagines the eschaton, when “All the ends of the world shall remember and turn unto the Lord: and all the kindreds of the nations shall worship before thee.”16 Isaiah 2 and Micah 4 offer a fuller image of how this eschatological world will look. Future days of peace and reconciliation will come to fulfillment when “the mountain of the Lord’s house shall be established on the top of the mountains” and “And all nations shall flow into it.” The conflicts that separated and divided the nations before will be judged and resolved by God’s authority, which finds its center in the heavenly city. Isaiah 56:7 awaits the day when God’s house will be called a house of prayer for all people.
The universal vision of God’s kingdom continues in the New Testament, where Christ describes in Luke 13:29 how God’s reign overcomes geographical distinctions when its inhabitants “shall come from the east, and from the west, and from the north, and from the south, and shall sit down in the kingdom of God.” In the book of Acts, the first work of the Holy Spirit is to speak in tongues of fire so that people from all nations of the world can understand God’s reconciling power. Perhaps the most compelling image of diversity in the eschaton, however, comes from Revelation, where the martyrs in Revelation 7:9 are described as “a great multitude, which no man could number, of all nations, and kindreds, and people, and tongues, (who) stood before the throne, and before the Lamb, clothed with white robes, and palms in their hands.”
In addition to the overcoming of divisions, the scriptures also speak often of the singing that takes place under God’s reign. In the Old Testament, the psalms resound with the singing that occurs in God’s temple and around God’s throne. Psalm 100:1-2 calls God’s servants to “Make a joyful noise unto the Lord, all ye lands. Serve the Lord with gladness: come before his presence with singing.” Psalm 68:1-4 foresees the triumph of God’s power : “Let God arise, let his enemies be scattered. . . . But let the righteous be glad; let them rejoice before God: yea, let them exceedingly rejoice. Sing unto God, sing praises to his name: extol him that rideth upon the heavens by his name JAH, and rejoice before him.” Psalms 67:4 says, “O let the nations be glad and sing for joy: for thou shalt judge the people righteously, and govern the nations upon earth.” God’s ultimate triumph, these verses claim, merits human praise in the form of singing. The author of Zechariah 2:10 calls on the Daughter of Zion to “Sing and rejoice . . . for, lo, I come, and I will dwell in the midst of thee, saith the Lord.” In Revelation 5:7, all of creation joins with the saints to sing God’s praises in heaven. “Then I heard every creature in heaven and on earth and under the earth and on the sea, and all that is in them, singing: ‘To him who sits on the throne and to the Lamb be praise and honor and glory and power, for ever and ever!’” For the Jewish and Christian imaginations, singing is the appropriate response to God’s reign. This takes place where God’s presence dwells and when God’s work has been completed on earth.
Heaven is full of singing. Several hymns of the Sacred Harp share in the Christian eschatological imagination as they look forward to the day when there will be no more divisions among humans and human desires will be fulfilled in singing God’s praises. #498, “The Resurrection Day” anticipates Christ’s return and prays,
Oh! May we meet in heav’n
To sing the praises of our Lord and King,
And gathered ’round the snow-white throne
Make heaven’s portals ring.17
To sing the praises of our Lord and King,
And gathered ’round the snow-white throne
Make heaven’s portals ring.17
#381, “Sing On,” offers the words of a dying Christian, who says,
I’m going home to God;
I’ll travel in the sacred way,
The path our fathers trod.
I’ll meet my friends who’ve gone before,
Around the great white throne;
We’ll shout and sing forevermore,
And know as we are known.
I’ll travel in the sacred way,
The path our fathers trod.
I’ll meet my friends who’ve gone before,
Around the great white throne;
We’ll shout and sing forevermore,
And know as we are known.
Heaven, for the dying singer, is to sing God’s praises in “one accord” for all eternity with other singers. “Sister’s Farewell,” #55, is another song about one looking forward to heaven.
Thus we’ll surround the great white throne,
And dwell forever there,
And sing God’s praise through endless days,
From sorrow, pain and care.
And dwell forever there,
And sing God’s praise through endless days,
From sorrow, pain and care.
This theme continues in #454, “The Better Land,” wherein the singer declares:
I’m going to a better land,
Where troubles are unknown.
All sorrows will be gone,
We’ll sing around the throne in sweet accord,
Adoring Jesus our dear Lord.
Where troubles are unknown.
All sorrows will be gone,
We’ll sing around the throne in sweet accord,
Adoring Jesus our dear Lord.
The Sacred Harp has countless other examples of imagining heaven as a place where all sing together, but the most-sung hymn in recent years captures this spirit especially well. #146, “Halleljuah,” rejoices in the end of human life and the communal singing in the world to come.
And let this feeble body fail,
And let it faint or die;
My soul shall quit this mournful vale,
And soar to worlds on high,
And I’ll sing hallelujah,
And you’ll sing hallelujah,
And we’ll all sing hallelujah,
When we arrive at home.
And let it faint or die;
My soul shall quit this mournful vale,
And soar to worlds on high,
And I’ll sing hallelujah,
And you’ll sing hallelujah,
And we’ll all sing hallelujah,
When we arrive at home.
Though Sacred Harp singers come from a variety of religious or non-religious backgrounds and have just as wide a variety of beliefs or absence of beliefs about the afterlife, their singing of these traditional Christian hymns exemplifies within the Sacred Harp community the way Christians imagine the eschaton. For singers, singing together is heaven, a way to transcendence that breaks down all the earthly barriers that may separate them. It is a participation in celestial realities in the present moment, a powerful and transformative experience that brings unity through a touch of the divine. Miller, describing singers as a diaspora with their true homeland in the singing tradition, offers her reflection on the experience:
Home in the hollow square is only one step removed from home in heaven, where the singing never lets up, voices never get tired, and singers who have crossed over Jordan are waiting for their family and friends to come “sing around the throne.” Even for singers who do not usually express belief in an afterlife, the compelling repetitions that characterize the hollow square can engender such belief—a living hope, in the language of the hymn texts—if only for a few moments.18
This experience of Sacred Harp singing is intentional and arises from the forms and structures of the tradition that provide the horizon from which singers orient their shared relationships and song. According to Judith Kubicki, in her work The Presence of Christ in the Gathered Assembly, this sense of communal perception can be understood phenomenologically in the “way that every object of perception is given in a horizon of other objects and/or meanings that contribute to its significance.”19 Especially important in creating perception are bodies, spaces, times, and other people. Though Kubicki’s work considers Christian experiences of liturgy, her description can easily be applied to Sacred Harp singing, which receives much of its meaning from the forms and contexts of the singing itself.
Phenomenology’s notion of horizon sheds light on the process by which an assembly both perceives what is happening when they gather for worship and who they become in the act of gathering. The symbolic network of images, music, color, space, silence, scent, architecture, and text that comprise the liturgy is the outer horizon against which the assembly both perceives what is happening when they gather and who they become in the act of gathering… The potential aspects of the outer horizon enable the assembly to gain access to the truth about who they are and what they are doing.20
Given the powerful experiences of transcendent community that Sacred Harp singing engenders, what can be said for the outer horizon that shapes the understanding of singers’ participation? What are some of the practices, forms, and relationships that foster pluralism and encourage such passionate involvement?
I will suggest two examples in Sacred Harp singing that contribute to the perception of singing as a participatory and pluralistic experience. First, as already mentioned, the shape-note method of teaching singing is intended to invite all people, with or without singing ability and knowledge, into the tradition. All people possess a sacred harp, the human voice, with which they can become a Sacred Harp singer. One prominent and beloved singing school teacher frequently exhorts singers that “All that’s required to be a Sacred Harp singer is the desire to be a Sacred Harp singer.” This encouragement provides a great deal of comfort for new singers struggling to learn the often-complicated songs. For singers, formal singing schools today also continue to offer opportunities for introduction to, and continued learning within, the tradition. Some schools are more formal day- or week-long programs, while others are short introductions at the beginning of weekly singings. In New York, for example, weekly singings include a five minute overview of the tradition whenever there are any new singers. Furthermore, more advanced singers often take newcomers under their wings, intentionally sitting next to them to offer helpful advice and a loud example of singing to follow. Beyond the available pedagogy for newcomers, all are encouraged to sing, no matter their skill level. The rule of thumb for all singers is to listen carefully and try to imitate someone who seems to know what they are doing.
Sacred Harp encourages universal participation even more through song choice. Everyone, no matter their skill level, gets a chance to choose a song for the group to sing. As leaders stand in the hollow square, surrounded by basses, altos, trebles, and tenors, they can lead songs however they chose—fast or slow, loud or soft. If a leader is unskilled, other singers in the group help to guide the song. In this way, there is no shame or embarrassment associated with being a newcomer. Singing is always a learning process, and all are encouraged to try their best as they learn through participation.
Second, relationships between singers create a horizon of experience that focuses on singing, rather than other markers, as the primary means of self-identification. This forms the background for a spirit of pluralism. When singers first meet, they do not ask about jobs, family, or other personal information. Instead, they ask about singing history. “How did you first hear about Sacred Harp?” “Where did you learn how to sing?” “Who have you sung with?” Many consider questions about life outside of singing to be taboo until a deeper relationship has been established. The community is small enough that shared knowledge of singings and relationships with other singers throughout the country provide an easy way for singers to relate and build relationships. Being a Sacred Harp singer implies being a part of a supportive and hospitable network founded on singing. When singers travel to other parts of the country or world, they are readily received into the homes and communities of other singers based on their participation in the tradition.
These are only a few examples of the forms that give shape to Sacred Harp singing. As a tradition, all are welcome to participate in and contribute to shape-note singing, no matter their skill or ability level. The community fosters pluralism since the ground for self-identification is based on singing alone. Participation and the desire to sing is the sole requirement for entrance into the community. Though founded on a well-defined and understood tradition, Sacred Harp is an inclusive community that mirrors several elements of heaven in the Christian eschatological imagination. For Christian churches, which often fail to embody this type of eschatological community, Sacred Harp can offer a helpful pattern of practices and relationships for imitation that express the Christian imagination’s deepest longing for heaven.
NOTES
I will suggest two examples in Sacred Harp singing that contribute to the perception of singing as a participatory and pluralistic experience. First, as already mentioned, the shape-note method of teaching singing is intended to invite all people, with or without singing ability and knowledge, into the tradition. All people possess a sacred harp, the human voice, with which they can become a Sacred Harp singer. One prominent and beloved singing school teacher frequently exhorts singers that “All that’s required to be a Sacred Harp singer is the desire to be a Sacred Harp singer.” This encouragement provides a great deal of comfort for new singers struggling to learn the often-complicated songs. For singers, formal singing schools today also continue to offer opportunities for introduction to, and continued learning within, the tradition. Some schools are more formal day- or week-long programs, while others are short introductions at the beginning of weekly singings. In New York, for example, weekly singings include a five minute overview of the tradition whenever there are any new singers. Furthermore, more advanced singers often take newcomers under their wings, intentionally sitting next to them to offer helpful advice and a loud example of singing to follow. Beyond the available pedagogy for newcomers, all are encouraged to sing, no matter their skill level. The rule of thumb for all singers is to listen carefully and try to imitate someone who seems to know what they are doing.
Sacred Harp encourages universal participation even more through song choice. Everyone, no matter their skill level, gets a chance to choose a song for the group to sing. As leaders stand in the hollow square, surrounded by basses, altos, trebles, and tenors, they can lead songs however they chose—fast or slow, loud or soft. If a leader is unskilled, other singers in the group help to guide the song. In this way, there is no shame or embarrassment associated with being a newcomer. Singing is always a learning process, and all are encouraged to try their best as they learn through participation.
Second, relationships between singers create a horizon of experience that focuses on singing, rather than other markers, as the primary means of self-identification. This forms the background for a spirit of pluralism. When singers first meet, they do not ask about jobs, family, or other personal information. Instead, they ask about singing history. “How did you first hear about Sacred Harp?” “Where did you learn how to sing?” “Who have you sung with?” Many consider questions about life outside of singing to be taboo until a deeper relationship has been established. The community is small enough that shared knowledge of singings and relationships with other singers throughout the country provide an easy way for singers to relate and build relationships. Being a Sacred Harp singer implies being a part of a supportive and hospitable network founded on singing. When singers travel to other parts of the country or world, they are readily received into the homes and communities of other singers based on their participation in the tradition.
These are only a few examples of the forms that give shape to Sacred Harp singing. As a tradition, all are welcome to participate in and contribute to shape-note singing, no matter their skill or ability level. The community fosters pluralism since the ground for self-identification is based on singing alone. Participation and the desire to sing is the sole requirement for entrance into the community. Though founded on a well-defined and understood tradition, Sacred Harp is an inclusive community that mirrors several elements of heaven in the Christian eschatological imagination. For Christian churches, which often fail to embody this type of eschatological community, Sacred Harp can offer a helpful pattern of practices and relationships for imitation that express the Christian imagination’s deepest longing for heaven.
NOTES
- John Ogasapian, Church Music in America (Macon, Georgia: Mercer University Press, 2007), 12-15.
- Ibid, 17-21.
- Kiri Miller, Travelling Home: Sacred Harp Singing and American Pluralism(Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 2008), 7-8.
- Ogasapian, 25-31.
- Stephen Marini, Sacred Song in America (Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 2003), 79-80.
- Miller, 7-8.
- Ibid.
- Marini, 83.
- Miller, 28-29.
- Ibid.
- Ibid.
- James Clifford in Miller, 28.
- Ibid, 47.
- Many hymns texts speak openly about themes such as death and damnation. Others are racist, misogynist, and antisemitic. Singers from pluralistic backgrounds have a complex variety of ways to interpret and sing these songs depending on the context.
- Miller, 36.
- Because this paper considers the Christian imagination, I have intentionally chosen to quote from the King James Version of the Bible. Though perhaps not as accurate as more contemporary translations, its role in forming the English-speaking Christian imagination cannot be denied. It is especially central to the Sacred Harp, which includes several anthems directly quoting the King James Bible, and which references related Bible verses after the title of each song.
- All Sacred Harp lyrics from The Sacred Harp, 1991 Edition (Bremen, Georgia: Sacred Harp Publishing Company, 1991).
- Milller, 36.
- Judith Kubicki, The Presence of Christ in the Gathered Assembly (New York: Continuum Publishing, 2006), 23.
- Kubicki, 24.
