Singing the Psalm
FROM THE RECTOR
Several years after I had been ordained, I walked into the chapel at the School of Theology at Sewanee as a visitor and sat down for the midday Eucharist. I had not gone to seminary there, so I was alert, looking for anything about worship that was new and different. Quickly, I noticed that everyone else in the congregation had a large, thin, green book in their hand, and I realized that I had neglected to pick one up as I walked into the space. I hurriedly retrieved one and returned to my seat, where I discovered that the book I had been missing was an Anglican chant psalter.
After the first lesson, without any announcement or explanation except the citation printed in the bulletin, everyone opened their psalter to the right page, and, after the organ had played through the musical setting once, the congregation began to chant the words of the psalm in four-part harmony. I struggled to keep up, trying to follow the words at the bottom of the page and match them with the music at the top of the page while also trying to decipher the shorthand notations that signified when a new syllable accompanied a new note.
At first, I was completely lost. Soon, though, as the tune repeated itself, I made some encouraging progress. By the end of the psalm, I almost knew what I was doing and yearned for another chance to prove myself. I like a challenge in worship—one that requires me to bring my best. I was taken back to my first few experiences in the Episcopal Church, when I struggled to know which book to use, when to bow, and when to cross myself. I am the weird sort of person who likes standardized tests in part because I was always good at them. I have always been good at church (whatever that means), and I enjoy those elements that keep me on my liturgical toes.
Some people, though, do not come to church looking for a challenge. In fact, most people probably want to walk through the door and feel comforted instead of tested. After a while, assuming that the enjoyable parts of worship are strong enough to keep a newcomer coming back to church for several weeks, the aspects that were once off-putting might eventually become celebrated. If we stick with it, we often learn to love those very things with which we once struggled. Before long, they can even become the very things we would least want to give up—the distinctive differences that make our church feel like home.
This Sunday at the 11:00am service, we will start singing an even fuller setting of the psalm, known as an Anglican double-chant. Instead of a single musical phrase split across each half verse of the psalm, we will sing two distinct phrases, each one divided into half verses. Though more often sung in cathedrals and other formal settings, double-chant is a foundation of choral worship in the Anglican tradition. Musically and liturgically it will be more challenging, but Jack Cleghorn, our Organist and Choirmaster, has been hoping to stretch us as a congregation, and I look forward to the challenge. If you want to get a head start in learning how to sing the psalm, there is some information below.
Some of you, however, may not like the change at all. It may feel like one more struggle in an already unfamiliar place. If that is true, let me know, or share your thoughts with Jack. The choir will lead us, and, if you prefer to let the psalm wash over you and pray those words silently while others sing, do that. Hopefully, after a few weeks of practice, we will enjoy the psalm, but, if not, we can always go back to the more familiar way of singing it. I like being a part of a congregation that is willing to try new things and that is willing to recognize when those new things do not work.
On a related note, many of you have noticed that, back when we resumed in-person worship as Covid cases were declining, we simplified the 8:45am Sunday service in several ways, including speaking the psalm instead of singing it. I know that some of you miss that sung psalm as well as the extra hymn before the gospel lesson and the sung Eucharistic prayer. I am not sure that simplifying things like that is best for us. I have heard from some people that they appreciate the shorter, easier service—especially those who sit in pews with young children—but I have heard from others that they miss the flourish. Please keep sharing your impressions and experiences with me and others, particularly members of the vestry. We would love to hear what you think about worship at St. Paul’s.
Yours Faithfully,
Evan D. Garner
Here are some tips for singing the psalm.
If you have a hard time, trust the choir and those around you to carry the psalm until you figure out how to join in.
We usually recite several words on the first note and then, when we come to a vertical bar in the psalm text, we usually sing the next two syllables on the next two notes. After those two syllables and their corresponding notes, we come to another vertical bar, which signifies the last note of the first phrase, and we sing all the remaining syllables of that half-verse on that note.
The process then repeats with the next half verse and the next musical phrase, but this time there is an additional two-note/two-syllable bar. Again, when we come to a vertical bar, we usually sing the next two syllables on the next two notes. Then, we do the same at the next musical bar. Then, at the next bar, we finish the second musical phrase by singing all of the remaining syllables of that verse on the last note.
Although the music is different, the two-part pattern repeats itself until the entire two-verse line has been sung. Then, the process starts over and repeats with every two verses of the psalm.
There are exceptions, however, for how syllables and notes line up together. A horizontal bar above two or more syllables indicates that those syllables should be sung together on that one note. On the other hand, an umlaut (two little dots) above a syllable indicates that the one syllable should be stretched across two notes. The reasons for those exceptions are so that the verbal emphasis can fall in the right places.
Sometimes a psalm will have an odd number of verses, and a cross is used to indicate when, instead of starting again at the beginning of the two-verse musical setting, we begin with the second half in order to make everything line up.
Another rare exception occurs when a phrase within the psalm text is so short that it cannot correspond to an entire musical phrase, and a dash is printed before the first vertical bar to indicate that we skip the reciting note and start singing that half-verse with the moving notes.