The preceding pages have opened windows onto the music and worship of the global pentecostal and charismatic renewal. More empirically oriented readers have had the benefit of case studies and ethnographies of praise and worship and of music production practices, while the more conceptually inclined have been able to appreciate how these concrete analyses illuminate existing theoretical models, even as they generate alternative ways of thinking about the interface of musicology and pentecostal studies, both broadly considered. Musicologists and ethnomusicologists can see how the study of global renewal extends contemporary discussion and debates in their disciplines, just as scholars of pentecostal studies have been treated to the kind of substantial musicological investigations of these movements in a global context that build on other, more preliminary discussions.
In these concluding pages, I reflect as one trained in theological studies about the relationship between pentecostal and charismatic musicking—using Christopher Small’s term (as mediated through Jean Kidula’s chapter) to include the whole process of making and performing music and praise and worship—and pentecostal and charismatic theologizing. By the latter, I am referring not primarily to the more specialized academic field of pentecostal and charismatic theology that has recently been emerging (although I am not excluding this either), but to the broad scope of popular and implicit pentecostal and charismatic belief making, doctrinal formation, and theological construction in general.1 The question I want to circle around is how pentecostal/charismatic musicking influences pentecostal/charismatic—or renewal (the all-encompassing term in what follows)—theologizing and vice versa. While the correlations cannot be tightly construed—after all, neither musicking nor theologizing is a mathematical science—I think that we can observe at least seven lines of resonance.
The first concerns what theological discourse calls the gospel-culture interface. If, in the theological world, there are multiple possibilities for interacting with culture,2 we see this also in the global renewal movement’s encounter with various musical cultures in local contexts. What we observe is that there is not one dominant approach across the board. Rejectionists such as the Diné Oodlání do not completely sever themselves from their past, even as redemptionists such as the Aboriginal pentecostals do not completely salvage all of theirs.3 And the whole spectrum is occupied when we factor in how renewalists around the world are navigating how gospel worship intersects with cultural markets. Perhaps those who are engaging distinct local environments can be more contextually engaged (such as gospel funk artists Adriano and LC Satrianny in Rio de Janeiro) and those with more regional presence can develop a broader repertoire (such as Oro gospelers in Papua New Guinea); meanwhile, those with wider mass appeal (such as worship leader celebrities Israel Houghton and Marcos Witt) must have an arguably more generic gospel sound and message. Notice, then, that there is not one normative mode in and through which renewalists are engaging musical culture. Local agency and individual creativity play unpredictable roles here, as do globalization and market forces. If the classical renewalist instinct to make a break with the (cultural) past persists in some environments, one wonders when this set of sensibilities will seek to make such a break with the (global neoliberal economic) present. If the latter is particularly challenging for numerous reasons (many enumerated above), so also, upon closer examination, is the former. The tensions derive from the fact that Christians are “in the world,” although their orientation is toward the coming reign of God. Theologically, then, this translates into the reality that there have been multiple modalities of gospel-culture interface, and these have to be discerned on a case-by-case basis. What works or is defensible (theologically and culturally) in one context may not be so in another, and even what works or is defensible in one situation at one time may be less viable in the same place at another time.
A second arena of resonance concerns the oral character of renewal spirituality, about which much has been noted in the preceding pages. This is most evident in its activity of musicking, understood broadly in this concluding chapter. Songwriting in particular and musicking more generally involve creativity, spontaneity, and contemporaneity, classic features of oral traditions. The theological tradition, of course, especially in the West, has become more textually oriented and even founded. Part of the reason for this has had to do with the perennial tension between charisma and institution, between prophet and priest. Renewal movements have had long histories of being marginalized from the institutional centers of Christendom because the charismatic claims of such “peoples of the Spirit” (Burgess 2011) have threatened the hierarchicalism and authoritarianism of the institutionalized church. Yet the history of song, music, and worship in the Western church is also one of ambivalence: on the one hand, the liturgy has been clearly distinguished from the church’s dogmatic traditions; on the other hand, in some streams, it is arguable that the church has always sung its theological commitments and that the church’s hymns are sometimes a more reliable indicator of what it believes than its confessions. My claim is that contemporary global renewal invites fresh reconsideration of the oral character of Christian belief and even confession. Rather than perceiving, from the perspective of the theological dogmatic tradition, that renewal churches are weak on doctrine or theology (in many cases because they lack confessional documents or creedal statements), perhaps we will find that the beliefs of these churches are emerging in their singing, praising, and worshipping, all vital aspects of their ecclesial and personal lives (see Boone 1996 and Mills 1998). In this case, the gap between liturgy and theology (or doctrine) is smaller than it may appear.4
A third resonating theme connects the affective and embodied character of renewal music and worship with contemporary theological developments. Undeniably, the growth of renewal Christianity around the world is related in part to how its oral spirituality embraces the emotional and kinesthetic dimensions of the Christian life. The expressive, intense, and participatory nature of pentecostal singing, dancing, and worshipping attracts many into its ranks, as several of the ethnographies in this volume depict (cf. Ma 2007). Theologians are gradually noticing that theological activity, once thought to be primarily if not predominantly cerebral, is also an embodied activity. This is related to the recognition not only that thinking itself is emotionally charged but that such is fundamental to human cognition. If the Western philosophical tradition since Plato has elevated the domain of abstract thought, the masses have always presumed that the body, the affections, and the emotions are part and parcel of human discursive activity. The chapters in this book thus reopen old questions about the embodied, affective, and emotional character of theological method. How do lying down and “soaking” impact our theologizing? How do chanting and gospel funk shape our attitudes toward and ideas about God? How is the digitization of the worship experience appropriated differently depending on the aesthetics of space—from storefronts and outdoor rallies to production studios and megachurches—and what are its attendant theological implications? Here, the geographies of sound and singing come to the fore, demanding a further account of how theologizing emerges from what people do (see Daniels 2008). And if music and worship are as central to human activity and meaning making as this volume suggests (and as many of us as readers can attest), then why has not more consideration been given among renewal theologians to the resonances between musical and worship styles and theological methodologies?
The preceding leads to a fourth line of inquiry regarding the interface between what might loosely be called matters of form (or style) and matters of function. Renewal orality and embodiment facilitate certain feelings or affects. Theologically, as Webb’s chapter in this volume suggests, such affections can be understood eschatologically, signifying what Stephen Land (1993) calls the renewalist “passion for the kingdom.” Yet part of the concern, as many other contributors to this book document, is the therapeutic existentialism symptomatic across large swaths of contemporary global renewal Christianity. What is disconcerting is how the repetitive, expressive, and popular style of much of renewal praise and worship not only revises (if not dismisses) traditional liturgies but caters almost only, and sometimes solely, to the affective domain. In the worst-case scenario, this means that contemporary renewal praise and worship are addressing human feelings but not the realities that are causing feelings in need of therapeutic attention (see Brandner 2011, 23). The result, combined with the eschatological sensibilities central to many renewal groups and churches, is (as noted by Gladwin) a kind of debilitating otherworldliness that disempowers Christian engagement with the present world and its challenges. Theologically, we now circle back to the more traditional concern enunciated a few paragraphs above: that the orality of the masses fosters a feel-good individualism that can derail, rather than foster, substantive theological reflection. The challenge, then, is how to nurture the affectively renewing and healing aspects of praise and worship without becoming theologically stale, vulnerable, or superficial. The renewalist response has been to continue the former (since it brings people into the church) but separate it from the more evangelical forms of theological and doctrinal sources, which are then adapted for renewal churches. Oftentimes, however, there is too much of a disconnect between evangelical cognitivism and intellectualism, which then leads to a dualism between renewal liturgy and (so-called) renewal theology. The way forward is to theologize through renewal music and worship both in order to critique their theologically debilitating and deficient aspects and to weave these into the heart of renewal theology so that there may be a seamlessness in how the movement sings and thinks (also the goal of Orthodox churches). On the musical front, we ought not minimize the work of those—such as pentecostal practitioners from the Great Southland—who are exemplary in showing how renewal sensibilities are not devoid of social implications.
Fifth, the global nature of contemporary renewal Christianity means that its musicking and theologizing are very diverse. Such diversity pertains not only at the level of individual performances but also at congregational levels. Yet our various congregational analyses register denominational and traditional differences. Pentecostal and charismatic renewal cuts across all ecclesial lines, so that its music reflects such diversity. However, as the chapters of this volume also show, neither congregations nor even denominations or whole churches are static (much less, of course, musical traditions—see, for example, Stowe 2011). The “bapticostalizing” of Faithful Central and the trans-, inter-, multi-, and non-denominationalizing of Hillsong are cases in point. In other cases, such as Nairobi Pentecostal Church, we see transitions at each of these levels, given the particular dynamic intersections navigated (colonial to postcolonial, classical mission church to indigenous valuation, pentecostalizing/charismatizing to globalizing trends, and so forth). The point is that just as there is not one musical style across the global renewal movement, neither should we expect one theological genre, form, or confession. Going even further, if the diversity of musicking is embraced, why not the diversity of theologizing? But, of course, such diversification can never be for its own sake, at least theologically. The many tongues on the day of Pentecost each in its own way gave testimony to “God’s deeds of power” (Acts 2:11, NRSV; see Yong 2005, chap. 4). Musicking and theologizing pluralism, then, is redemptive only when it gives such glory ultimately to God. This does not mean that it might not be contested as new forms and expressions emerge. It does mean that such evangelical and ecumenical diversity has theological limits set according to what the tradition believes to be God’s revelation in Christ.
Having just championed the diversifying effects of musicking-theologizing resonance, I now turn to address another, countering trend. Contemporary globalization foregrounds this sixth set of resonances. The Reformation “priesthood of all believers” rendered a more democratic ecclesial space, one less demarcated by lines separating priests from laity. The renewal “prophethood of all believers” (Stronstad 1999)5 promises an even more egalitarian and participatory field of operation, where anyone, anywhere, anytime—whether male or female, younger or older, rich or poor (cf. Acts 2:17–18)—can be a conduit for the charismatic gifts of the Holy Spirit. Translated onto a musical register, the Spirit’s gifts can now be recognized as inspiring singers, songwriters, and musicians, alongside pastors, teachers, and evangelists. But of course the question persists: if all are equally and so inspired, then in effect none are. Mass mediatization may mean many things, but it does subject music to aesthetic criteria, perhaps alongside more theologically robust criteria: people vote on their “praise and worship” by downloading music, buying CDs, and attending concerts, and this may or may not be connected to their theological sensibilities, much less commitments (of which they may have none!). In this case, what the Spirit seems to be inspiring is not so much that each person in the image of God responds musically out of the depths of his or her historical, social, and culturally particular situation, but rather the creation of a globally marketable set of products, with the result that local languages, cultures, and traditions are now homogenized in global commerce. Theologically, my concern is that whereas the pentecostal and charismatic renewal of the early to mid-twentieth century promised a resurgence of the vernacular—in that people could praise and worship in their own languages and hence also theologize therein (see Sanneh 1989)—contemporary global renewal networks are transitioning us into a “global” cultural form and style (see Poewe 1994) that sometimes seems to have little room for and other times leaves behind altogether local dynamics and contributions. Renewal Christianity, and renewal music and worship, seemingly sits at an ambiguous crossroads. On the one hand, its aesthetics of style expects the ongoing diversification of renewal musical (and by extension theological) modes of creativity, production, and performance (used here descriptively rather than evaluatively). On the other hand, globalization trends suggest a reverse homogenization of musical (and by implication theological) repertoires. We observe these pressures in transnational developments such as Hillsong and Latin American evangelical-charismatic music (see Evans’s and Gladwin’s chapters above); hopefully, these will be productive tensions rather than incapacitating ones, both for music and worship and for theological reflection and work (Lanser 2008).
Last but not least, it almost goes without saying that music is a dynamic human, sociocultural, and historical construct, but I want to say this because of its theological and perhaps dogmatic implications. Human beings expect that the activity of musicking has a creative edge. While there still exists a kind of elitism in the discipline of musicology and the field of church music scholarship that privileges canonical traditions and in that sense defends a conservative approach even to musicking (as I am using it), contemporary musical culture within which renewal Christianity finds itself immersed rewards the imaginative, innovative, and forward-looking thrusts of musicking. Theology, on the other hand, has almost always been instinctively conservative. This is in part because even the Christian Scriptures urge attentiveness to and contention “for the faith that was once for all entrusted to the saints” (Jude 3, NRSV), and in part because of the processes of institutionalization following the growth of the church. This means, then, that the Christian tradition will always be suspicious of those who claim to be at the vanguard of a new theological discovery. Charismatic prophetism has certainly included its share of such pronouncements over the centuries, which explains why renewalists have always been on the margins rather than at the center of ecclesial history, as noted above. But if musicking makes room for, if not also prioritizes, this dynamic process, then why not theologizing? If musicking involves ongoing improvisation, then why not theologizing (Crawford 2013)? This is not an argument for anything goes; it is to point out the resonances between what people (renewalists in this case) do as musickers and as theologians. Renewalists thus often find themselves of two minds: a musical set of dispositions that is more future oriented and a theological mindset that is more conservative in nature. I would like to think that the parallels between musicking and theologizing invite not the abandonment of the past but its retrieval, reappropriation, and even renewal. If that is the case, then the past is not just restored (as if its former glory can be merely brought forward to the present) but redeemed: its failures and achievements are preserved and yet adapted for contemporary (and eschatological) purposes. This was how the day of Pentecost redeemed the many languages of Babel; it may also be how the ongoing and eschatological work of the Spirit redeems the many musics and theologies in anticipation of the coming reign of God.
None of these ruminations says much about what such a renewed theological imagination would look, sound, or feel like. We certainly can and should talk more about the content of a musically informed renewal theology. The theme of prosperity certainly needs to be attended to in the short and long term, especially given its central role in the global renewal movement (see Attanasi and Yong 2012). The crucial interconnections between the music industry and the church are a part of this discussion, as are the consumerist habits that many renewalists have been socialized into and have internalized. These motifs, touched on in many pages of this book, are nicely contrasted with the somber moods of the first two chapters. The healing power of a non-triumphalist liturgy such as soaking and the enabling role of lament (in the face of unanswered prayers) have been registered, even as their important functions need to be further explicated in renewal theological discourse.6 All of these themes and many others broached in the pages of this volume beg for theological elucidation.
My focus in these concluding moments, however, has been on the resonances between musicking and theologizing, in particular the implications of how renewalists “do” praise and worship and how they might also “do” theology. I confess that these reflect my own interests as a pentecostal theologian concerned about methodological issues in the contemporary theological enterprise. I am convinced that part of the explanatory power of contemporary renewal lies in its musicking practices. If that is the case, then I want to urge theologians to pay more attention to what happens in the musicking process so that they may be able to think through the theological enterprise in similar fashion. I would particularly admonish renewal theologians not to merely borrow the theological repertoires of nonrenewal churches and traditions. While such cross-fertilization of theological reflection is important and necessary in the present ecumenical climate, uncritical adoption of the offerings of others risks undermining the vitality of renewal spirituality and practice. Instead, renewalists ought to think through their theological commitments from out of the depth of their liturgical, and musical, sensibilities so that there is greater congruence between the potency of their musicking and that of their beliefs. If and when this happens, renewalism will be known not only because of its spirituality (and musicking) but also because of its theology. That itself will signal the convergence of hearts and heads, of practices and beliefs, and a renewed global Christianity.7
1. The questions related to theological methodology—the formal term in the theological guild for what I am here calling “theologizing”—are legion. For a substantive treatment, see Yong (2002).
2. H. R. Niebuhr’s classic model (1951), one among many, suggests five possibilities: Christ against culture (breaking with the past); Christ of culture (embracing a form of cultural Christianity); Christ above culture (wherein culture is fulfilled by Christ); Christ and culture in paradox (featuring persistent struggle between the two); and Christ transforming culture (Christ renewing culture). Not all of these are of equal value, at least not in the same sense in the same place and time; thus, evangelicals, as well as renewalists, debate the issues. One might be tempted to suggest how each of these categories is reflected in Christian music, but space constraints prohibit such elaboration.
3. Similar sophistication would be needed to describe what is happening in African pentecostal churches, which are making a break with the past and yet indigenizing their musical practices simultaneously. See Kalu (2010).
4. This would be a staple of Orthodox churches, whose liturgy is inseparable from their theology. However, Orthodoxy is just as much in need of renewal as other Christian traditions (see Nassif, forthcoming), and this itself may destabilize Orthodox theology more than even its practitioners would care to admit.
5. In fact, popular music, while awash in commercialism, can also function prophetically and redemptively, as Don Compier (2013, ch. 3) shows; see also Saliers (2007, chap. 5).
6. One might even say that the practice of soaking reflects a form of “soft lament” that waits on God to heal painful histories and experiences. Thanks to Austin Jacobs, an Evangel University (Springfield, Missouri) student, who coined this term in response to my discussion of this issue at a lecture on November 1, 2012.
7. Thanks to Dr. Michael Kolstad at Evangel University for an invitation to speak about aspects of this chapter at the university on November 1, 2012, a lecture from which the chapter’s broad contours emerged.
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