How to appreciate a song (pointers from the Bible)
In 2020, I listened to 955 artists. My top song, which is 8 minutes 15 seconds long (Josh Yeoh's Here in the Waiting), was streamed 86 times, making for 709 minutes 30 seconds streaming this song alone, or nearly half a day. And that's just one song by one artist, out of the 955 others.
A few weeks ago I came across the idea of studying songs in the Bible, producing what we'd call a biblical theology of song. I hate how academic that sounds, because enjoying a song is usually a natural, fluid, emotional process. But I realised that by surveying songs in the Bible—asking why, and in what circumstances, they are sung—I learned a lot about how to appreciate a song. Songs have been sung from ancient times, for much richer purposes than solely entertainment.
#1 Expressing beliefs and emotions
Songs in the Bible are sung to express beliefs and emotions in a way that prose can't. Some of the most well-known songs in the Bible come after the birth of a child. Hannah sang at the birth of Samuel, "My heart rejoices in the LORD... I delight in your deliverance" (1 Samuel 2:1–10). Mary sang at the birth of the long-awaited Jesus, "my spirit rejoices in God my Saviour" (Luke 1:46–55). Even God expresses in song: "The LORD your God is with you... He will take great delight in you; in his love he will no longer rebuke you, but will rejoice over you with singing." (Zephaniah 3:17)
Easily the most awkwardly expressive songs in the Bible are found in Songs of Solomon: from the start of these songs, we hear: "Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth—for your love is more delightful than wine." It is a series of songs sung between two lovers, praising the other and expressing emotionally passionate desire for one another.
#2 Sharing beliefs and stories
In Exodus 15, after crossing the parted Red Sea, the Israelites broke out in song, "Pharaoh's chariots and his army he has hurled into the sea. The best of Pharaoh's officers are drowned in the Red Sea. The deep waters have covered them; they sank to the depths like a stone." Miriam continued a refrain, with "timbrels and dancing": "Both horse and driver he has hurled into the sea". Recorded in the book of Exodus, these songs perhaps continued to be sung to share and remember what had happened that day to the Israelites, much like the way folk songs preserve stories.
In the Bible, songs could also share prophecy: a story of the future. Zechariah, the father of John the Baptist, broke out in song at John's birth, singing that God "has raised up a horn of salvation for us in the house of his servant David" (Luke 1:68–79).
We also sing in church, and indeed, even the most seemingly straightfaced and unromantic of theologians, Martin Luther, loved song. He composed the hymn A Mighty Fortress is our God. We still continue to sing really old hymns, such as Be Thou My Vision, written, it is believed, in the 6th or 8th century. Singing is such a key part of church—Dietrich Bonhoeffer in Life Together encourages Christians to sing together every day!—because in the singing of songs we bind ourselves together in our shared beliefs and story of God's saving work. Indeed, Bonhoeffer wrote that in singing, we are expressing unison—a sharing in—the grandest song of all songs that God has written, and which resounds over all time: it is the song that "morning stars sang together" so that "all the angels shouted for joy" (Job 38:7), and at the end of time, the everlasting song sung by those standing beside "a sea of glass glowing with fire", holding "harps given them by God" (Revelation 16:3–4). By singing together every time we meet, we share beliefs and stories binding us to one another and to the great divine song over creation.
#3 Worship (expressing value)
Lots of songs in the Bible express worship—a great valuing—of God. Most of the songs already quoted are quite express in this. Mary's song, for example, begins: "My soul glorifies the Lord". Miriam's song after the parting of the Red Sea repeats: "Sing to the LORD, for he is highly exalted". Songs nearly always worship someone or something, even outside the Bible. Often, it's a Beloved: in Elvis Presley's famous one, "Take my hand; take my whole life too. For I can't help falling in love with you." Sometimes they worship an abstract value, directly or indirectly. Lorde's Pure Heroine album comes to mind, a disdainful commentary on social hierarchies that are felt even in youth, and expressing favour on the losers (Team and White Teeth Teens, for example).
You might have noticed a glaring omission so far: I haven't mentioned the book of Psalms at all, which is often called the Bible's song-book. That's because the psalms are archetypes of all three of these purposes. An example of an expressive one is Psalm 55, arranged for "stringed instruments". It expresses torment that prose can't reveal: "Fear and trembling have beset me; horror has overwhelmed me. I said, 'Oh, that I had the wings of a dove! I would fly away and be at rest. I would flee far away and stay in the desert; I would hurry to my place of shelter, far from the tempest and storm.'"
Probably the best example of psalms sharing stories is Psalm 78: over 72 verses it conveys ancestral stories, as examples of the "praiseworthy deeds", "power", and "wonders" of God (verse 4), beginning from the establishment of Israel by the law back in Jacob's generation to the coronation of David as Israel's king, with the details of their journey out of Egypt in between. As for the purpose of worshipping, I think all the psalms serve this purpose quite obviously. I open a random page and find this verse of Psalm 57 that reads, "Be exalted, O God, above the heavens; let your glory be over all the earth".
Contemporary song: folklore and evermore
For many people, one of the biggest redeeming events of 2020 was Taylor Swift dropping sister albums defining yet another phase for her artistry. I love them both (though it took some time for me to warm up to evermore). What I love about this phase of Taylor's music is how she explored different personas and storytelling styles, in a way she hadn't really done in any of her previous albums. They weren't all expressive of her own stories and feelings. They were stories of other people that she assumed and narrated in song: the last great american dynasty, for example, tells the story of the woman who previously owned Holiday House in Rhode Island (which Taylor now owns); no body no crime tells the story of a woman whose husband is having an affair.
I love these albums because the songs are expressive of emotions ("just when I felt like I was an old cardigan") and beliefs ("and that's the thing about illicit affairs... but they lie and they lie and they lie"); they share beliefs ("never be so kind, you forget to be clever; never be so clever, you forget to be kind") and stories ("they say she was seen on occasion, pacing the rocks, staring out at the midnight sea"); they also worship something or other, whether a value or a valued person ("I don't belong, and my beloved, neither do you ... I'm setting off, but not without my muse; no, not without you.") The result is 34 songs, 34 prisms into human emotions, beliefs, stories, values, as seen through her eyes, processed and portrayed in song.
My fascination with song makes sense, now that I know that song permeates the most important volume of books in my life, the Bible. The way in which songs resound from its beginning to its end, sung by God and angels and put in the mouths of people to express, to share, and to worship, teaches me how to appreciate songs—especially the ones in the Bible, but also every other song on Spotify that God has given us the ability to sing. I appreciate them like little windows, or prisms, giving me a view into the beliefs, stories, and values that make up our world, our good messy created world. Each song I listen to helps me see something new in the world around me: glints of an ancient perfection (in the most beautiful of love songs), mouldy nooks of a world fallen from grace (in songs of sorrow, or songs of self-obsession), and also embers of a hope in redemption (in the bittersweet, hope-filled songs). As a song ends, I often see yet more beauty in what I believe, because I see more ways in which I feel my beliefs answer hard questions and fill deep human longings. Then I'm drawn into praise of God, so the songs swell into more songs.
