Music, Modernity, and God: Essays in Listening

by Jeremy S. Begbie

When the story of modernity is told from a theological perspective, music is routinely ignored - despite its pervasiveness in modern culture and the manifold ways it has been intertwined with modernity's ambivalent relation to the Christian God. In conversation with musicologists and music theorists, in this collection of essays Jeremy Begbie aims to show that the practices of music and the discourses it has generated bear their own kind of witness to some of the pivotal theological currents and counter-currents shaping modernity. Music has been deeply affected by these currents and in some cases may have played a part in generating them. In addition, Begbie argues that music is capable of yielding highly effective ways of addressing and moving beyond some of the more intractable theological problems and dilemmas which modernity has bequeathed to us.

Music, Modernity, and God includes studies of Calvin, Luther, and Bach, an exposition of the intriguing tussle between Rousseau and the composer Rameau, and an account of the heady exaltation of music to be found in the early German Romantics. Particular attention is paid to the complex relations between music and language, and the ways in which theology, a discipline involving language at its heart, can come to terms with practices like music, practices which are coherent and meaningful but which in many respects do not operate in language-like ways.

Genres: Theology, Music, Philosophy

261 pages, Hardcover

First published January 1, 2013

About the author

Dr Jeremy Begbie is Thomas A. Langford Distinguished Research Professor of Theology at Duke Divinity School, Duke University, where he directs Duke Initiatives in Theology and the Arts. His primary research interest is the correlation between theology and the arts, in particular the interplay between music and theology. he is also an Affiliated Lecturer in the Faculty of Music at the University of Cambridge.

Reviews

[Neil R. Coulter · Rating 4 out of 5]

Jeremy Begbie consistently strives for more than most contemporary authors I'm familiar with in theology. Reading him brings to mind Aslan's cry from the end of Narnia: "Come further up, come further in!" And that is always a thrill to try to hang on and see where Begbie is going in each of the chapters of Music, Modernity, and God.

It's also a challenge, especially with my limited background in theology. Though I sometimes feel that I disagree with what Begbie is averring, I'm rarely able to articulate just why I think that--at least, not in a way that would be good for discussion with him.

The biggest example of this is Begbie's insistence on "integrities of the sonic order," to which music, if it is to be good and worthy, must be faithful. I've read several of Begbie's books now, and I'm still not quite sure what he means by the "integrities of the sonic order." Sometimes I think he yearns a bit for a "music of the spheres" concept (though I know it's most certain that he doesn't advocate for an actual return to that!), and often I think he wants to find more meaning in acoustics and the physics of sound than I personally believe in. Whenever he begins talking about acoustics, I can't help thinking about the spectrograms I've seen, comparing just intonation and equal temperament. The just intonation has a somewhat odd sound to my ear, but the equal temperament spectrogram is a distorted mess, showing its "unnaturalness." How can acoustics be a precise indication of the sonic order of the cosmos if most of us in the West have grown quite used to a distorted acoustic structure?

As Begbie says, “But it is quite a distinct matter to suggest that the pre-eminent role of the artist is to construct order out of an essentially and fundamentally disordered world, to assume that nature’s order is at its deepest levels basically unreliable, or (even stronger) to suppose that nature has no order than the order we bring to it or forge from it” (46). I struggle to understand the "sweet spot" between "fundamentally disordered world" (which I don't believe) and "fundamental order of nature" (which I believe, but I don't know how that actually informs human creativity).

Throughout this book, the topic of "music and language" appears repeatedly. Begbie is at pains to understand what it is that music brings to theology, and, more basically, what is the difference (if any) between music and language, and how do they best interact or relate with one another. These discussions, for me, ranged from fascinating to very hard to follow. But my main question is why it's so important to set up music and language as two different, separate things. I tend to see everything all mushed together anyway, but certainly music and language could be viewed as the tangible expressions of a common human impulse. Having had some experience in both musicology/ethnomusicology and linguistics, I know that language is very musical (in editing, I often make choices that aren't so much right-or-wrong as they are what sounds best in a given context; it has to do with rhythm, melody, variation, and so forth) and music genres follow a kind of grammar or logic that is somewhat languagey. But Begbie wrestles with music and language as very separate entities in a lot of different ways in these chapters. It's not a struggle that I feel very deeply, though it's sometimes interesting to read.

My other criticism, which is true of most of what I've read by Begbie, is his near-constant Western-centric perspective. There is surely much to learn from non-Western traditions, and when Begbie focuses in on Reformed theological traditions or the music of J. S. Bach, I feel suffocated, like the walls are closing in. What he focuses on is certainly one interesting historical tradition, but it's hardly the ultimate tradition that trumps all others. I was, however, very happy with his short discussion of entrainment:

For example, in some contemporary "alternative worship" experiments in the United Kingdom and the United States, wordless yet highly rhythmic music from various dance cultures are extensively used, and can engender an intense sense of solidarity, while at the same time allowing for widely diverse responses and stances among participants—something that would seem appropriate for those wary of being enlisted prematurely to adhere to specific beliefs, doctrines, or goals. Of course, one would want at some stage a higher degree of specificity in worship; nonetheless, music of this sort in this context may be witnessing to and perhaps serving to embody something of the differentiated and liberating unity promised in Christ and granted through his Body, the Church, by the Spirit. (98)

That's pretty good, and I very much agree. But that kind of worship experience is not just in a European subculture; it describes quite a few traditions in the world. We should be spending some more time with them.

I see Begbie's primary concern being that we “fruitfully indwell the world in which we are embedded”--but I'm rarely sure what exactly that means. I agree with this desire, but I feel that Begbie's realization or idealization of it is more restricted than my own perspective. I wish I could explain my position better, but for now I'll just leave it at these initial, just-finished-the-book thoughts. Perhaps I'll write more on it later.

[Zachary · Rating 5 out of 5]

I greatly enjoyed this book. Begbie is quickly becoming one of my go-to scholars concerning the intersection of music and theology. He is also one of the few making an argument that music itself can contribute to theological conversations and actually help further it. That said, be forewarned that this is definitely on the scholarly level of reading - not a quick or easy read. I absolutely love Begbie's continual insistence of footnotes (as opposed to endnotes), and also just highly recommend his books. I have included my chapter thoughts below for anyone who is curious on what he discusses throughout the book.

Begbie starts his engagement with modernity and music with an exploration of Calvin's theological formulations in regards to music. The most insightful aspect of this chapter, in my opinion, is how he explores the idea that, while Calvin's articulations about music seem to be very restrictive, how those restrictions were practiced and carried out--even under the supervision of Calvin in the Genevan Psalter--reflected a deeper and broader understanding and appreciation for music and its natural 'order' in creation. This, in some ways, draws out connections with Luther's more fully developed theology of music. Fascinatingly, Begbie's quick detour to compare Luther's views with Calvin's merely strengthens Begbie's point that Calvin's view and treatment of music are a result not merely of his own scriptural study and reflection, but also the humanist worldview and approach to music which had come to the forefront in Calvin's time. Luther, on the other hand, seemed to hold a much more 'classic' appreciation for music, specifically in how it was situated much more explicitly in God's action in creation, almost as if music itself were something God created himself, and, in that, music reflects something of the nature and being of God which cannot quite be articulated.

Begbie also seems to have laid a solid foundation for engaging with enlightenment and post-enlightenment approaches to music by starting with Calvin. One possible reason for this is how Calvin seemed to so thoroughly deviate from what was, up to that point, the tradition of the church in how it approached and understood music. Yet, even in his difference, Calvin displayed a depth of understanding and an even cosmic-level appreciation for music.

In his third chapter Begbie approaches the music of Bach and engages two different scholars who have attempted to deal with Bach's music theologically, Butt and Berger. There are aspects of Bach which both authors get right and do a good job of exploring and/or drawing out; but there are also some underlying assumptions which Begbie points out. Berger seems a little light on theology in general (or at least his articulation of it), and while Butt has some solid observations and insights, he seems to assume a specific model of time and eternity which are not quite consonant with where Bach was when he composed.

All in all, an excellent chapter engaging Bach and there are a ton of pretty solid points concerning Bach and his non-linear and circular concept of time, which he seemed to have utilized or illustrated in his music.

The fourth chapter dives into the debate of natural theology of music, specifically working Rameau and Rousseau against each other. Ultimately he asserts that we can learn from both of them, but the needed balance lies between music's natural/physical properties and its cultural impact and ramifications. Begbie does continue to build off some of the understandings of Bach's music established int he previous chapter. He also connects Bach's work to two other composrs he explored a little more deeply in Music, Theology, and Time--Boulez and Cage. These took two totally different approaches to music composition--one going for complete adherence to 'rules' he created for composition, the other striving to let music spontaneously be what it is--and yet their resulting works sounded surprisingly similar.

In the end, Begbie does not seem to have much of a determinative verdict, merely that Natural Theology seems to have some areas where it can validly contribute to the conversation concerning theology and music.

As an interesting change, Begbie's fifth chapter emphasizes not Bach but Beethoven. He starts off by noting an early but significant work by E.T.A. Hoffman analyzing and reviewing Beethoven. Begbie also considers and alludes to some of Kant's philosophizing about music. Yet he spends most of his time interacting with Andrew Bowie, in some places embracing Bowie's observations and in the end also heavily critiquing Bowie's rejection of theology. One of the more fascinating themes which Begbie is chasing down throughout the chapter is the idea that the conceptual foundation of language is something similar yet non-articulate. Begbie seems to be pointing towards music as that which illumines the inarticulate part of communication.

Throughout the chapter the theme of music representing and embodying some greater order or reflecting some deeper truth about reality. Begbie is working at it from some different angles, which enable him to articulate it in essentially trinitarian language at the end of the chapter, specifically noting the reality of the Word become flesh, dwelling among man...and also providing the power through the Spirit to live and move and be what we are called to truly be.

In a move reminiscent of his Theology, Music, & Time, Begbie leans heavily on Zuckerkandl in his sixth chapter, which I think is the core of Begbie's argument in the book. Essentially Begbie is arguing, as he has elsewhere, that music offers a way of thinking and knowing (and understanding) which is intrinsically different from the most common sort of reasoning people engage in: spatial. In this chapter he barely touches on the temporal side of the revelations possible via music, but he soundly argues for 'interpenetrative' reality of music and chords (as highlighted by Zuckerkandl). Begbie also does a good job of pointing towards the areas which such 'audible' conceptions can have huge implications (trinitarian, communal, Christological, etc.). It remains to be seen, but this chapter felt like a highlight reel from his Theology, Music, & Time. The last two chapters will show how different his application of the concepts therein will be played out in this book.

In his penultimate chapter, Begbie begins to draw in the themes he's established thus far in his book. He begins the chapter with a summary of sorts of the chapters leading up to it, to situate the conversation, and then he moves to interacting with the relationship within the 'multimedia character of musical experience' (180). His primary methodology for this is interacting with Nicholas Cook's primary concepts in his Analysing Musical Multimedia. Begbie seems to largely agree with Cook's thesis and ideas, though Begbie does have a few places where he seems to want to better nuance the ideas Cook is proposing.

Key for the entire chapter is the interaction and relationship of the medium of music with other mediums to which it is paired (most often being words/lyrics). An underlying theme for Begbie is the reality that when music and words are combined, in that combination they mean something different (or 'more') than they would on their own (the words without the music, or the music without the words). With this strongly established, Begbie sets the stage for his final chapter.

Lastly, the final chapter of Begbie's book works towards tying up the various threads he has woven throughout the book. He ultimately is asserting that music can (and should!) play a significant role in theological discourse, not just as an example or illustration, but through the embodiment of its performance. Though he doesn't outrighly say it, I think he is pointing towards an embodiment on the part of music of realities or meanings which are difficult or even impossible to articulate in linear literacy. His note of Bonhoeffer's utilization of musical imagery and even practice to better articulate his theological concepts was fascinating. Though I think ultimately Bonhoeffer's use of music and musical practices (and even theory) were more metaphorical than anything else, Begbie insightfully points towards Bonhoeffer's experience of music as providing the foundation for this literate articulation which was heavily influenced by musical conceptions.

Throughout the book, additionally, I think it is important to note that one of the themes Begbie continually came back to was man's tendency to play different communicative methodologies against one another. An either/or dichotomy which leaves the theologian poorer in the end. Begbie seems to be arguing that theologians should use everything at their command to explore and explain God - both words and music. Music provides, he argues, something which words cannot, and vice versa.