Our combination tones
To be a teacher of history is perhaps the closest thing to time travel that anyone can experience. Many historians, researchers and archaeologists certainly experience this as well. But I would like to venture that it is the teacher of history who has a unique corner on this market. To be a history teacher involves more than simply engaging with the past, but also moving rapidly back and forth between past and present. On a daily basis we stand in front of our classes and explain and engage with historical moments, people and ideas, but also field questions from this contemporary audience, who are variably enthralled, confused or bored. In answering questions, we then have to decide on the spot whether to be critics, apologists, revisionists, entertainers, storytellers and so on. This fast-moving, “live” aspect of the history classroom creates a dynamic atmosphere in which the long-dead are suddenly invoked and relevant again, if only for a few fleeting moments of discussion.
The “survey class” is one of those daunting assignments that many teachers dread. “How on earth am I supposed to cover 1,000 years of [this or that culture] in 15 weeks?” one might say in exasperation. Sometimes we long for specialization, and the chance to indulge in just one thing (for once!) and not have to hurry along so much. Yet, as challenging as survey courses can be, the opportunities for comparative observations are often rich. The contrasts between two centuries or generations can sometimes be brilliantly clear, and make for rich discussions of topics with universal significance. This is often the case when my classes discuss the competing ideas of the Reformation period, or the contrasting impulses of Enlightenment versus Romanticism. The comparison allows for an overlapping of different ideas, which raises questions that might not have been noticed if only one historical moment had been discussed in isolation. It’s not altogether unlike the preschool art projects we all made out of colored cellophane – blue on top of yellow produces green. Or, drawing from my days in high school concert band, I might liken this to what we learned about “combination tones” – the note that the ear “hears” when two pure notes create a third, distinct note, which is not actually being played.
On a recent evening here at the University of Illinois, a performance of Monteverdi’s “Vespers of 1610” recalled this phenomena. In itself, the work is heralded for coming at the end of one period and style (Renaissance) and also experimenting with the next (Baroque). In the opening movement of this innovative composition, the medieval music of the solid, plainchant line of the mass texts formed a centerpiece around which the composer also added wild flourishes of instrumentation – thus overlapping two styles without merging them, to produce something else, undefinable and sublime.
There are several stunning moments in this piece when biblical texts and concepts are also allowed to overlap. During one movement, “Duo Seraphim,” two soloists sing the part of the angels from Isaiah 6:3: “And one cried unto another, and said, Holy, holy, holy, is the Lord of hosts: the whole earth is full of his glory.” Without warning, these two soloists suddenly are joined by a third soloist, off stage, which catches the audience by surprise. Two notes have become three. The soloists who started out representing angels have now been transformed into the three persons of the Trinity, singing, “Tres sunt” – “there are three, yet one.” Wow.
Needless to say, hearing this enriched and deepened my view of the passage from Isaiah, as well as my understanding of “unity in diversity.” And so it can be, when we pass from understanding to understanding. Historical comparisons ought to enrich. We don’t need to eliminate the things that don’t fit, or which don’t conform to the current style. Our history is so rich, that it cannot be allowed to be forgotten or languish in books. Our congregations and denominations need to hear about their history, and hear about it often rather than just in obligatory platitudes spoken at anniversaries. Worship leaders can do this in the songs and styles they blend together, Sunday school teachers can do this in the topics they choose to teach, pastors can do this in the sermon illustrations they weave into the morning message. There is more to church history than just “the Bible times” and the present day. We need to regularly travel through the rest of the 2,000 years that come in between, not as an obligation, but as a part of a constructive process of maturing our identity as Christians.
This is what this magazine, Pietisten, is designed to do in its small way. We thank the contributors to this current issue for making this possible, and we thank you for faithfully reading and engaging with us in conversations.
Guds frid – God’s peace.