One of the consequences of the 'unchurching' of society reveals itself every time I do a funeral or wedding. The last forty years have produced an explosion in hymn-writing as the church has dealt with enormous changes in society and culture. Obviously it takes time for the 'classics' to emerge and the hymns that don't grab the imagination of the people to disappear, but there are plenty of modern 'classic' hymns that will survive generations. The song repertoire of non-churchgoers sometimes seems frozen in the Victorian period it seems. Contemporary culture - at least, in England - simply doesn't produce songs for people to sing together to mark a death or celebrate a wedding. At recent weddings, the couple has dispensed with singing altogether, and Celine Dion gets played - again.
People say they want 'a hymn that everyone knows', but there is no longer any such thing. I don't have an overview of the repertoire in church junior schools, but the secular school I visit regularly (where the singing is excellent) has its own unique - and very good - repertoire, which doesn't include any 'hymns that everyone knows'. And I imagine that due to the pressures successive governments have put on the school curriculum, collective singing has disappeared from senior schools altogether.
It seems terribly sad to me (albeit rather inevitable given the huge changes in society), that we've lost the music that could bring several generations together singing at crucial rites of passage. But it's also exasperating : so many people judge Christianity and call it 'out of date' when all they really know about it is one or two Victorian hymns - in many cases, the naffest ones. And yet there's so much really good stuff being written.
Wasn't it Joni Mitchell who sang ". . you don't know what you've lost till it's gone"?
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It struck me that whilst I lament the loss of a common repertoire of songs for the great rites of passage, Steve Knightley of Show of Hands does the same for the English folk tradition in his song 'Roots' :
Haul away boys, let them go
Out in the wind and rain and snow.
We've lost more than we'll ever know
Round the rocky shores of England.
Now it’s been twenty-five years or more
I’ve roamed this land from shore to shore
From Tyne to Tamar, Severn to Thames,
From moor to vale, from peak to fen,
Played in cafes and pubs and bars.
I’ve stood in the street with my old guitar.
But I’d be richer than all the rest
If I had a pound for each request
For ‘Duelling Banjos’ ‘American Pie’.
Its enough to make you cry.
‘Rule Britannia’ or ‘Swing Low’ -
Are they the only songs the English know?
Seed, bud, flower, fruit -
They're never gonna grow without their roots.
Branch, stem, shoots - they need roots.
After the speeches when the cake’s been cut,
The disco is over and the bar is shut -
At Christening, birthday, wedding or wake,
What can we sing until the morning breaks?
When the Indian, Asians, Afro, Celts...
It’s in their blood, below the belt...
They’re playing and dancing all night long.
So what have they got right that we’ve got wrong?
Seed, bud, flower, fruit -
Never gonna grow without their roots.
Branch, stem, shoots - we need roots.
Haul away boys, let them go
Out in the wind and the rain and snow.
We’ve lost more than we'll ever know
Round the rocky shores of England.
And a minister said his vision of hell
Is three folk singers in a pub near Wells.
Well I’ve got a vision of urban sprawl -
It’s pubs where no one ever sings at all
And everyone stares at a great big screen -
Over-paid soccer stars, prancing teens,
Australian soap, American rap,
Estuary English, baseball caps.
And we learn to be ashamed before we walk
Of the way we look and the way we talk.
Without our stories or our songs
How will we know where we've come from?
I’ve lost St George in the Union Jack -
It’s my flag too and I want it back.
Seed, bud, flower, fruit -
Never gonna grow without their roots.
Branch, stem, shoots - we need roots.
Haul away boys, let them go
Out in the wind and the rain and snow.
We’ve lost more than we’ll ever know
Round the rocky shores of England.
(The 'minister' he refers to was the government's 'Minister for Culture and the Arts' at the time, whose name escapes me. Pretty ironic, really.)
We sang All things bright and beautiful at my uncle's recent funeral. It was chose by my cousin as entirely approriate for a man who had loved creation and nature and who wanted an uplifting and jolly funeral - not another rendition of The Lord's my Shepherd.
Some people like some hymns, some like others. Simple as that really.
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