• Who would true valour sing?

    I had the opportunity this week to abide for a while and think by Bunyan’s grave in Bunhill Fields in London. I was on my way back from holiday (Budapest, Sophia, Istanbul, London) and had scarcely thought of work at St Mary’s for most of the time that I had been away.

    But finding myself by the grave of John Bunyan did start to bring my mind back to life here at St Mary’s.

    I rather like Bunhill Fields. There’s something about being surrounded by so many dissenters that makes me feel at home.

    On this occasion, I’d bought some food from the incomparable Whitecross Market which has some of the best street food you’ll find anywhere. The sun was shining through the leaves of the trees and all was right with the world.

    Good old Bunyan, I thought – what a glorious place of peace and beauty in which to be remembered.

    But then I found myself thinking about the trouble we have with his great hymn.

    Here at St Mary’s, we’ve sung it in its original version for many years.

    Who would true valour see,
    Let him come hither;
    One here will constant be,
    Come wind, come weather
    There’s no discouragement
    Shall make him once relent
    His first avowed intent
    To be a pilgrim.

    Whoso beset him round
    With dismal stories
    Do but themselves confound;
    His strength the more is.
    No lion can him fright,
    He’ll with a giant fight,
    He will have a right
    To be a pilgrim.

    Hobgoblin nor foul fiend
    Can daunt his spirit,
    He knows he at the end
    Shall life inherit.
    Then fancies fly away,
    He’ll fear not what men say,
    He’ll labour night and day
    To be a pilgrim.

    It is a favourite hymn for many and has the kind of good rollicking tune that we are partial to in these parts.

    But the trouble is, we also have a policy of trying to use inclusive language in our hymnody. Now, inclusive language can mean a number of things. At a bare minimum, it usually means using language for human beings which is inclusive of both men and women. From that follows the question of whether we should use language for God that doesn’t simply use masculine pronouns and masculine imagery. It isn’t difficult for me to answer this – I’m a biblical kind of Christian and the bible uses expansive language for God and it seems to me that it teaches us that the more expansive our language and the more we use the divine spark of imagination that God has put within us, the closer we will come to meeting the God who is always one step beyond any human language.

    In recent years, some further challenges have started to appear to this from those with a non-binary identity and voice. For years we’ve been trying to use language like “sisters and brothers” rather than just “brothers” but now it is apparent that some people won’t easily identify as either. This a challenge for hymnody and liturgical language that few will understand and fewer will do much about. If I’m honest, I’m only at the beginning of trying to wrestle with this.

    But let us find a way back to Bunyan’s hymn for now and look at the gendered language we find there.

    Clearly, here, we have language which uses the male pronoun to describe the pilgrim.

    Here at St Mary’s, we try to use hymnody that uses language of those identifying as female as well as those identifying as male. We also try not to use language all the time which uses masculine pronouns and masculine descriptors of God.

    So, should we sing Bunyan’s hymn?

    This is one of the hymns  that raises this question which we have retained within our repertoire and which I would be loathe to lose.

    There are some hymns which I think are just unsingable in our context.

    One such hymn is this:

    Firmly I believe and truly
    God is Three and God is One;
    and I next acknowledge duly
    manhood taken by the Son.

    And I trust and hope most fully
    in that manhood crucified;
    and each thought and deed unruly
    do to death, as he has died.

    You can tell me until you are blue in the face that manhood here implies humanity and not maleness, but the truth is, that isn’t true for everyone and it isn’t even broadly true for the congregation that I serve.  Firmly I believe and truly has gone the way of all flesh and simply isn’t sung here any more.

    Another tricky one is Dear Lord and Father of Mankind. This is one which we have retained as is as I’ve never been able quite to bear Dear Lord and Parent of Us All.

    I have in the past suggested that our inclusive language policy should be that we sing hymns in inclusive language for anything written after 1872, the year in which it’s author died.

    (We’ll gloss over the fact that Dear Lord and Father comes from a poem called The Brewing of Soma about Vedic priests brewing up an hallucinogen for now, but we might come back to that at a later date. All is not what it seems therein).

    We’ve kept singing Bunyan’s hymn in its original form here too for the last few years at least.

    The reasoning being that if we are singing about hobgoblins then people ought to understand that this is a historical piece of writing and be able to place it in some context given all the efforts we make to make most of our worship as inclusive as we can.

    [If you would like a hobgoblin diversion, can I ask you to stop at this point and go and read this blog post and its associated comments now: http://thurible.net/2008/06/30/hobgoblin-nor-foul-fiend/]

    However, I have the feeling that things may be changing. The last time we sang about hobgoblins it was clear that some in the congregation were feeling more uncomfortable about all the male language than they once would have done.

    What has changed?

    I think that we were singing this as the #metoo conversation was starting to develop on social media.

    I also think we live increasingly in the world of the instant. Someone may come to St Mary’s once and maybe not even for a full service and judge who we are and what we believe by what they encounter in a moment. In an instant, one might be convinced that we are unthinkingly singing words which imply maleness as normative for God’s people.

    This post isn’t political correctness gone mad by the way. This is political correctness at its most thoughtful.

    For the question I now find myself is how can we sing Bunyan’s hymn in a world in which gendered language is very sensitive?

    How shall we sing the songs of Zion in a strange (in the sense of new) land?

    There are a number of possibilities.

    1. Carry on singing Bunyan’s words
    2. Sing Bunyan’s words with a disclaimer in the service sheet
    3. Sing new versions of the same hymn, noting that there’s quite a tradition of meddling with this hymn.
    4. Alternate male and female language in the hymn.
    5. Stop singing it altogether.

    I’ve already discussed the problems around number 1.

    Number 2 seems unsatisfactory to me. It reminds me of someone who once responded to a request to produce a commentary down the side of a service sheet as to why people were doing what they were doing at that point with the words: “Once you explain the liturgy, doesn’t it in some sense disappear?” – I have some sympathy with her view.

    Number 3 is certainly a possibility though not one which will please everyone. The most obvious messing with the hymn that has been done is Percy Dearmer’s version of it:

    He who would valiant be ’gainst all disaster,
    Let him in constancy follow the Master.
    There’s no discouragement shall make him once relent
    His first avowed intent to be a pilgrim.

    Who so beset him round with dismal stories
    Do but themselves confound—his strength the more is.
    No foes shall stay his might; though he with giants fight,
    He will make good his right to be a pilgrim.

    Since, Lord, Thou dost defend us with Thy Spirit,
    We know we at the end, shall life inherit.
    Then fancies flee away! I’ll fear not what men say,
    I’ll labor night and day to be a pilgrim.

    This does away with the hobgoblins but not the exclusive language. I tend to be of the view that we should be hobgoblin positive and lose the exclusive language.

    Picking up the most inclusive hymnbook I possess (The New Century Hymnal from the United Church of Christ), I find that someone has had a brave go at modifying Dearmer’s text.

    Thus:

    We who would valiant be: let us not waver,
    but in true constancy follow the Savior
    There’s no discouragement shall make us once relent
    our first avowed intent to live as pilgrims

    Those who may us surround with dismal stories,
    only themselves confound; our strength the more is.
    No foes shall give us fright, ours is the one true Light;
    we will make good our right  to live as pilgrims.

    Since Savior, you defend us with your Spirit,
    we know we at the end shall life inherit.
    Cruel rumors, flee away! We’ll fear not what they say;
    we’ll labor night and day to live as pilgrims.

    And looking in a Lutheran direction, I find:

    1 All who would valiant be
    ‘Gainst all disaster,
    Let them in constancy
    Follow the master.
    There’s no discouragement
    Shall make them once relent
    Their first avowed intent
    To be true pilgrims.

    2 Who so beset them round
    With dismal stories
    Do but themselves confound;
    Their strength the more is.
    No foes shall stay their might:
    Though they with giants fight,
    They will make good their right
    To be true pilgrims.

    3 Since, Lord, you will defend
    Us with your Spirit,
    We know we at the end
    Shall life inherit.
    Then fancies flee away!
    We’ll fear not what they say,
    We’ll labor night and day
    To be true pilgrims.

    If I’m honest, I’m not sure which of those I would chose. I know they would annoy some people mightily and please some people mightily.

    The truth is, people can’t worship God well when they are annoyed mightily. So it is still difficult to know what to do.

    And we’ve still lost the hobgoblins.

    We could try using they as a personal pronoun: “Who would true valour see, let them come hither” which starts reasonably enough but starts to get into trouble with “No lion can them fight, They’ll with a giant fight” and loses credibility when we get into “Then fancies fly away, they’ll fear not what men say”. To be honest, by the time we’ve got to that point, I’m not sure what we are singing about.

    How about option 4 – alternating the language:

    Who would true valour see,
    Let her come hither;
    One here will constant be,
    Come wind, come weather
    There’s no discouragement
    Shall make her once relent
    His first avowed intent
    To be a pilgrim.

    So far so good.

    But the trouble is, though there’s some fun to be had with “She’ll fear not what men say”, Bunyan wasn’t writing a hymn about our current gender battles at all. He was writing about a human soul courageously living the Christian life in the face of bad things. (Bad things for him were exemplified by hobgoblins, giants and lions rather than sexism, homophobia and Brexit that might be more familiar to us).

    Which leads us to option 5 – to stop singing it altogether.

    I have to confess, I would find this completely unsatisfactory. Notwithstanding our problems with it, I still think it is a fine thing.

    Sitting beside Bunyan’s grave I found myself humming Monks Gate, the tune we know and love to this hymn.

    I find it jolly and enjoyable.

    I am puzzled as to what a modern congregation committed to language that is inclusive of all people should do with it.

    So what would you chose to do if you were involved in shaping the choice of a music list?

    These are real questions, and I would be interested in thoughtful answers.

    Who would true valour sing? Let them come hither.

    Comments welcome though disrespectful and dull comments won’t make it through moderation.

    John Bunyan's Grave

     

     

     

     

9 responses to “The Lament Question”

  1. kimberly Avatar

    ask it in the singular, and the answer is: because you’re a four.

    you’ll have me playing the funeral ikos next.

  2. kimberly Avatar

    the other answer is about possibility being revealed in limits.

  3. kelvin Avatar

    Its not just me though, and not just fours.

  4. Aaron Orear Avatar

    I think because sorrow touches the core of the human condition – we are mortal but can perceive immortality. “He has made everything suitable for its time; moreover he has put a sense of past and future into their minds, yet they cannot find out what God has done from the beginning to the end.” (Eccl. 3:11)

  5. Erp Avatar
    Erp

    I understand Aristotle talks about catharsis and various philosophers have followed up on that idea.

    Perhaps it arouses sadness both from the art itself but also from our own sources festering within and allows us to let go. We feel better for the letting go, the lessening of our own internal sadness, and so perceive the art as beautiful.

  6. RosemaryHannah Avatar
    RosemaryHannah

    Kimberly was there before me. However, even I, a nine, can sometimes see the beauty in sad things. For me they do two things (may be more but two are most obvious). The first is the catharsis thing. The second is to make me less lonely. Look, here am I weeping, but all around me people sit in the same sorrow. It is not just my sorrow – I am not alone.

    I have long thought there is another answer, one I do not properly understand but I have (I think – and who am I to think it). Deep in God there is a huge well of sorrow. Unless we experience sorrow we cannot understand God. When we sorrow we tap into that well, and become closer to him.

    And being a nice cheerful nine, I will now add that I live in hope that having sorrowed with him, we will share also and even more fully in the joy which swallows the sorrow. Delete this last paragraph from your mind on reading, it will only spoil the joy of the sorrow.

  7. Elizabeth Avatar
    Elizabeth

    Edgar Allan Poe said the most beautiful thing in the world is a beautiful, dead woman. Nice, eh?

  8. Ritualist Robert Avatar
    Ritualist Robert

    Surely it’s because the concept of beauty is independent from concepts such as ‘sadness’ and ‘happiness’ – just as a G major chord might be loud or soft, but that volume has no effect on its G major-ness.

  9. Steve Avatar
    Steve

    I remember Augustine saying (don’t ask me where) that for a picture to be beautiful it requires dark colours as well as bright.

    There is also a hint of an answer in this poem by Edwin Muir:

    Yet still from Eden springs the root
    As clean as on the starting day.
    Time takes the foliage and the fruit
    And burns the archetypal leaf
    To shapes of terror and of grief
    Scattered along the winter way.
    But famished field and blackened tree
    Bear flowers in Eden never known.

    Blossoms of grief and charity
    Bloom in these darkened fields alone.
    What had Eden ever to say
    Of hope and faith and pity and love
    Until was buried all its day
    And memory found its treasure trove?
    Strange blessings never in Paradise
    Fall from these beclouded skies.

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