AVE YOU EVER TRIED to figure out if a person is serious about sacred music? When attempting to discern what type of musician the visiting organist or cantor is, I find myself often using that word, “serious,” or even sometimes the phrase, “the work of sacred music.” Those ways of speaking seem to mean something to me. I would consider someone who reads Sacred Music, for instance, to be serious. The octogenarian organist who doesn’t use the pedals—not so much. It’s the difference between a music director interested in the Propers and a music director content to maintain the four-hymn sandwich.
Perhaps I use this type of terminology to discriminate those who are invested in the reform of liturgical music from those who are simply going along with the status quo. “Serious” and “not so serious” seem to be labels I use to categorize the liturgical musicians I know.
There is probably a degree of legitimacy to this type of language. Yet, at the same time, God is not always so staid or categorical. Indeed, there are times when God, Himself, appears not to be all that “serious.” Take this passage from the Book of Proverbs:
Thus says the wisdom of God . . . then was I beside Him as His craftsman, and I was His delight day by day, playing before Him all the while, playing on the surface of His earth; and I found delight in the human race.
Here we see the Lord portrayed as playful. I like that image. We can recognize His playfulness in creation, in Sacred Scripture, and in our prayerful banter.
It makes me wonder if the Lord might challenge my seriousness about the liturgy at times. I’m not suggesting that He wants us all to be unserious about the work of liturgy or of sacred music, but might our seriousness not be well-tempered by healthy appreciation of the playfulness of God?
