Here was an assembly of people with a shared commitment to finding practical ways to encourage heavenly music in cathedrals and parish churches across the land; and, queuing for tea in a Regency building suffused in light and beauty, a dean, a precentor, or a director of music had the same mission and purpose as someone running a church choir that might have dwindled to single figures, but that remained a cherished expression of the divine.
The Archbishop of York put his finger on it. He was upbeat, urging his listeners never to take for granted the “precious and beautiful treasure” that was church music. He declared, in a talk, “Tuning Forks and Orchestras”, that he didn’t personally take up the offer of a tuning fork when leading responses — “I prefer to choose a note myself” — provoking from this assembly a mock intake of breath.
But his point was that the unifying single note of the tuning fork was the will of God. Those assembled were his orchestra. And whether they played trombone or kazoo, violin or spoons, they were called to sing God’s praise “for our own day . . . our own churches . . . our own communities”. The Church was seeing a renaissance of music-making in all its diversity, he suggested, thus demonstrating the gospel to be “good and true but also beautiful”.
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The Church was seeing a renaissance of music-making in all its diversity, @CottrellStephen suggested, thus demonstrating the gospel to be “good and true but also beautiful”.https://t.co/eliaNeKNWs
— Church Times (@ChurchTimes) May 6, 2024