(Photo by Sergey Pesterev on Unsplash)
Perhaps when you see “Let the dead talk,” you think something like zombies saying, Braaaaaaiiiiins from Return of the Living Dead. While such an apocalyptic event would certainly be a New Year’s surprise… that’s not what I mean, here.
(Also, lest you be worried, this is not a post about dead people “voting” in US elections…)
Many of my previous posts have focused on the idea of “living the classical Christian life.” I started this series by mentioning that Christianity is not just a religion but a way of life. It encompasses everything and changes the way we see the world. I then argued that part of that way of life is pondering the Bible and acknowledging that we “step into” interpretations of it — we don’t just read Bible “plainly.” The Bible, like every other book, has to be interpreted.
This post is a sort of recap of all those things. What I have been building up to in those previous posts (I’ve mentioned it explicitly a few times) is that we are all part of a theological tradition. Everyone who follows the Way of Jesus is part of a theological tradition of some sort, complete with belief and interpretive methods. There is no one who “just follows the Bible” or gets away from traditional frameworks. It just isn’t possible.
Being in a tradition means we see things a certain way; we assume certain things and ignore certain things. A Baptist will read, “Repent and be baptized” in the New Testament and assume that this now excludes infants, whereas a Presbyterian will scratch their head at that assumption. On the other hand, a Presbyterian will see a level of continuity between the Old Testament people of God and the New Testament people of God, while a Dispensationalist will puzzle as to how the Presbyterian mixed up Israel with The Church. Our theological traditions change the way we read the Bible and understand reality.
The benefit of recognizing this “being in a tradition” is that some traditions also come with rich fruits. Traditions are (usually) not arbitrary customs that are done for no reason. Often, they are the intentional passing down of good ideas from one generation to the next.
There is much that could be (and has been!) written on this topic. My point here is to explain why rooting oneself in the broad Classical Protestant Tradition, rather than simply floating along with contemporary Christian culture, is beneficial.
Let the dead vote!
The wonderfully grumpy author, GK Chesterton, is one of the most quotable authors in the history of the English language. He had a way of saying things that were both genuinely profound yet remarkably easy to understand. In one of his most famous works, Orthodoxy, he has a line that I think is so deep that I have my students recite it daily:
“Tradition means giving votes to the most obscure of all classes, our ancestors. It is the democracy of the dead. Tradition refuses to submit to the small and arrogant oligarchy of those who merely happen to be walking about.”
Ponder that for a moment. What is tradition? The more I think about that question, the more I think Chesterton has given the best possible definition: tradition is letting the dead have their say on what is important.
It can be easy to forget that those who have gone before weren’t complete imbeciles, especially in the modern world. Modern scientism leads us to believe that whatever is cutting-edge is always best, and social media leads us to think that the only thing that really matters is what we think about the subject. Why should we bother with the thoughts and practices of those now gone?
There is nothing forcing us to accept a tradition, especially one we don’t like. It can be easy to reject or dismantle a tradition because it isn’t “cool” or “sexy” or “how we would do it.” Traditionally, people did X, but our new modern sensibilities would much prefer the doing of Y. Who cares what the dead thought? They’re gone!
The thing about tradition, though, is that it kind of rumbles on, like a stubborn bull; the ideas of the dead don’t change. Further, the dead will always outnumber the living, and therefore, if we’re counting votes, the democracy of the dead will always outvote the minority of the living. This is why the very best traditions never seem to go away entirely. While we might chart a new path, the dead sit back quietly and laugh. They’ve tried it that way, too, and they know it won’t work. They tried to tell us, but we wanted to learn the hard way. We think we’ve killed a tradition in one generation only for it to come roaring back in the next.
Of course, each generation could avoid much pain if it were willing to ponder the traditions of the previous generation. If a choir of people told us, “It is much wiser to do X, don’t do Y,” we would be fools to ignore them. We know this is true when we think about it in terms of the living. If John is about to propose to Sarah and everyone John knows is telling him it would be a terrible idea to marry Sarah, John would be a fool not to listen.
This is not to say that traditions are always correct or that the majority is always right. At the same time, we recognize somewhat intuitively that there can be wisdom in listening to a majority of trusted voices, even if we know that the majority is not always correct. It behooves us to listen to the generations that have come before us, even if we aren’t sure what they are saying is completely true.
In short, a “tradition” is those coming before us saying, “We tried these things; here’s what we found works best.” We can reject this, we can change it, or we can accept it. The foolish thing to do is to ignore and forget it.
Don’t Tear Down the Fence So Fast
Chesterton illustrates the purpose of tradition with an analogy often called “Chesterton’s fence:”
“In the matter of reforming things, as distinct from deforming them, there is one plain and simple principle; a principle which will probably be called a paradox. There exists in such a case a certain institution or law; let us say, for the sake of simplicity, a fence or gate erected across a road. The more modern type of reformer goes gaily up to it and says, ‘I don’t see the use of this; let us clear it away.’ To which the more intelligent type of reformer will do well to answer: ‘If you don’t see the use of it, I certainly won’t let you clear it away. Go away and think. Then, when you can come back and tell me that you do see the use of it, I may allow you to destroy it.”
In other words, don’t tear down a fence until you know why it is there. That fence may have been put there because that field contains an angry bull. Even if you don’t love the fence being there, it has been put there by wise people who want to prevent the bull from killing you! It would be foolish to tear down the fence, even if tearing it down might lead to some gain. The loss could be greater than the reward!
In modern Western society, though, we have a sort of love affair with tearing town ideological fences. We have been infected with the philosophy of “Progressivism,” or the idea that we should always be moving toward “progress.” This applies equally to people on the left and right of the political spectrum. We are very ready to tear down old ways of doing things if we think a “new” way will bring “progress.” We tear down the fence because we think it is preventing some new and better use of the land.
Chesteron’s fence begs us to slow down. That fence isn’t there for nothing. Chances are, previous generations had thoughts similar to ours. Perhaps that fence is there because they tried the same “new” way we are thinking of and found that it only causes pain and misery. Until we know why the old way was established, we should be careful not to tear it down too quickly.
In short, Chesterton does not tell us it is wrong to get rid of a tradition; sometimes the old ways are bad! Rather, Chesterton is reminding us that we should, at minimum, know why a tradition has been established before we think about getting rid of it.
Tradition for Tradition’s Sake
Often, growing up, I would hear people complain that some church was following this or that old practice because it was “tradition for tradition’s sake.” In my youth, I would often think something like, well, that’s stupid. Just because people in the past did something doesn’t make that thing good!
True, my youthful self wasn’t entirely wrong about this; I just wasn’t entirely right, either. As noted above, just because there is a tradition does not mean that that tradition is a good one. Humans are sinful and we can pass down sinful things. We do things that are foolish or arbitrary and expect others to get in line.
Suppose for example, that, when examining his field, Farmer Brown looked around, planted a stake and said, “Well, this is just as good a spot as any!” He put the fence up arbitrarily. If I come along a generation later and wonder why the fence is in *this* spot, I will be frustrated if I learn that there isn’t a particular reason.
So, what would Chesterton tell me to do right when I purchase the field? I imagine he would say something like, “Perhaps that fence has no purpose…perhaps it does. Leave it until you know for certain why it is there. There may be a good reason for it! After all, Farmer Brown was a generally intelligent man.”
In other words, “Tradition for Tradition’s sake” is not necessarily a bad way to go. If I don’t know why a previous generation did something, I should be humble enough to assume that they had a good reason for doing this thing instead of that thing. It may be that they did not have a good reason, but I should not assume that. Only when I come to discover the reason for an old decision can I begin to decide if that choice is worth holding on to.
Tradition and the Church
One thing that frustrates me to no end is hearing a young pastor say, “We’re figuring this out as we go.” I want to scream back, “Why on Earth are we doing that? We have 2000 years of Church history to help us figure out what to do!” In other words, why do we need to “figure it out” if we have the saints of the past telling us what works and what doesn’t?”
In what I call contemporary Christian culture, there is an implicit assumption that the Church must constantly change. We have to stay relevant to people, particularly young people. We need practices that make sense to them and music that they enjoy listening to. The current generation(s) like loud and dynamic content, so our services should be loud and dynamic. They also like inspirational lectures, so our sermons should model this pattern.
Of course, this is an oversimplification. Having been a part of megachurches and church plants, all of which were contemporary, I can say that not every contemporary-style church has all of these characteristics. They do, however, share the idea that church must change to be and look relevant.
While this shows up in numerous areas, perhaps the most apparent is in the use of contemporary music vs. traditional hymns. If you go to a contemporary church, chances are most, if not all, of the music will have been written in the past few years, usually by a megachurch praise band. Rarely, will you find a contemporary church drawing on old hymns and, even if you do, they will likely be in a modernized style.
Now, let me note that I am not against all modern worship music, nor am I against the modernization of hymns. My gentle pushback, though, is to ask why we have abandoned music that has been handed down for centuries vs music that has only shown up in the past few years.
Since the Jesus Movement of the 1960s, the unspoken idea has been that young people are drawn to churches that are culturally relevant and look like contemporary secular culture. While this idea did lead to church growth for a time, a curious change has occurred: young people are now moving back to traditional churches. Churches that sing hymns, wear robes, and have a formal liturgy are experiencing growth while churches that are strictly contemporary are experiencing stagnancy.
One of the main reasons often cited is that young people want the benefits of traditional worship. What benefits would these be? In just considering music, traditional hymns are easy to sing (they were written for non-professionals to sing) and they contain deep, theologically rich lyrics. The goal of old hymns was to make it possible for everyone in the church to sing and to teach them theology while doing so. The goal of the hymn, in other words, is to fill the head and the heart at the same time.
On the other hand, contemporary music is written by professional musicians to be performed by other pro-level musicians. This music has to be sold to churches (often to the tune [pun intended] of thousands of dollars in performance rights) and thus must be accessible enough for pastors to purchase. If I want a song to be sung by a wide variety of churches, I have to avoid it getting too deep into a particular theological position. Theological depth takes time to learn, and it slows down sales.
Consider some lyrics from a modern worship song vs. a traditional hymn:
Saturday was silent
Surely it was through
But since when has impossible
Ever stopped You?
Friday’s disappointment
Is Sunday’s empty tomb
Since when has impossible
Ever stopped You?This is the sound of dry bones rattling
This is the praise, make a dead man walk again
Open the grave, I’m coming out
I’m gonna live, gonna live again
This is the sound of dry bones rattling, yeah(Rattle by Elevation Worship)
1 All hail the power of Jesus’ name!
Let angels prostrate fall.
Bring forth the royal diadem,
and crown him Lord of all.
Bring forth the royal diadem,
and crown him Lord of all!2 O seed of Israel’s chosen race
now ransomed from the fall,
hail him who saves you by his grace,
and crown him Lord of all.
Hail him who saves you by his grace,
and crown him Lord of all!All Hail the Power of Jesus’ Name
It is not hard to see which song communicates deeper theological content.
While some worthwhile contemporary songs are being written, many of them are, frankly, emotional garbage. They sell well because they feel good but lack intellectual depth. Because the songs need to be sold, they have to be distinct enough to avoid copyright laws and create a new emotional high for the congregants to get excited about. Much of contemporary music has the staying power of a bag of candy.
Traditional hymns lack these criticisms precisely because their focus is not on generating sales. Even when the composers were still alive, hymnody was a collective craft that typically generated very little income for the individual composer. Hymns are typically meant to be interchangeable. For example, “All Hail the Power” uses the same tune setting as “Hail to the Lord’s Anointed,” a version of Psalm 72.
This interchangeability means that hymns are rarely new or exciting. You can’t drop an new album with cool sounds and a new ripping guitar solo. At the same time, when a new hymn is introduced, it is typically easier for the congregation to learn. This in turn, allows them to focus on the depth of the lyrics, rather than singing correctly. There is very little money or excitement in hymns, but a whole lot of theology to be gained.
Our ancestors passed the tradition of hymns down to us because they knew the rich benefits that theologically rich congregational singing provided. However, many contemporary churches have substituted these benefits for high-octane, semi-pro entertainment worship sets. That’s not to say that every aspect of contemporary worship is bad, but we have sacrificed some major benefits to achieve an entertaining atmosphere.
Conclusion
The Classical Christian Life is one in which tradition is looked to with awe and reverence. There is an attempt to follow old paths because we trust that the wisdom of the ages is likely better than the current zeitgeist. The hymns of the church is just one way to demonstrate this.
The dead have things to teach us. Quite often, they passed down their wisdom to us in what we call “traditions.” Not every tradition ought to be kept, but we risk throwing away many benefits and much wisdom by tossing everything old just because we think we know better. Chances are, we’ll find many of our new ways don’t work. When we do, the slow, steady voice of tradition will be ready to offer help and correction.
Chesterton challenges us to consider a traditional life, one steeped in the wise voices of the dead rather than the flashy appeal of fleeting ideas. The old ways may not always be “sexy” or “exciting,” but time has shown that they are fulfilling. The old ways have been tried again and again and have stood the test of time.
Come and let us try the old ways together, even if they are uncomfortable at first. Read the old philosophers and theologians. Pray a liturgical written prayer over dinner. Sing some old hymns. Catechize your children. The Classical Christian life is one of looking to the past to learn where to go in the future. Let us step into this world, knowing that the traditional wisdom of the ages will bear much fruit.
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