A few days ago I mentioned the peculiar sudden rush of funerals in Swanvale Halt. In one of the three I somehow took over the course of the week, one included only one hymn ('Abide with me' - haven't sung that for ages), and another none at all. Instead the music was provided by various popular singers, as I understand Jennifer Rush and Robson & Jerome are, or have been. I know some of my old colleagues would tut at this, at the mawkish sentimentality of pop intruding itself into the solemn business of life and death. But it's another symptom of the mutual estrangement between society and cultural Christianity. Once upon a time the old hymns, and Christian imagery and narrative more broadly, were the language in which English people thought their deepest and most meaningful thoughts, the lexicon of love and hope for which they instinctively reached; what an achievement that was. Some of those lyrics, in truth, were scarcely less sugary than the pop songs which have replaced them, but replace them they have. They are the medium through which ordinary people now express what they want to say, even at the most serious moments. It's not self-indulgent or particularly maudlin: it's just where we are. Friday, 12 September 2014
Modern Ways of Death
A few days ago I mentioned the peculiar sudden rush of funerals in Swanvale Halt. In one of the three I somehow took over the course of the week, one included only one hymn ('Abide with me' - haven't sung that for ages), and another none at all. Instead the music was provided by various popular singers, as I understand Jennifer Rush and Robson & Jerome are, or have been. I know some of my old colleagues would tut at this, at the mawkish sentimentality of pop intruding itself into the solemn business of life and death. But it's another symptom of the mutual estrangement between society and cultural Christianity. Once upon a time the old hymns, and Christian imagery and narrative more broadly, were the language in which English people thought their deepest and most meaningful thoughts, the lexicon of love and hope for which they instinctively reached; what an achievement that was. Some of those lyrics, in truth, were scarcely less sugary than the pop songs which have replaced them, but replace them they have. They are the medium through which ordinary people now express what they want to say, even at the most serious moments. It's not self-indulgent or particularly maudlin: it's just where we are. 
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So interesting, thanks. Some of the non-classical music I encounter at funerals is, to my ears but obviously not to those of the family, gruesomely mawkish. Some of it fits really pretty well. All of it, as you say, is just where we are now, where we work.
ReplyDeleteWell said.
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