Oratorios

This article by John Angell James was originally
published in the 'Evangelical Magazine' January, 1835

"You shall not take the name of the Lord your God in vain, for the Lord will not hold him guiltless who takes His name in vain." (Exodus 20:7)

As that kind of public amusement which bears the name of oratorio is already very prevalent in this country, and is likely if we may judge from appearances to become still more so, and as many professed Christians attend oratorios, and others are in some doubt about them, I propose, in this paper, to examine the question, "Whether their lawfulness can be sustained by an appeal to the word of God?" I say by an appeal to the word of God; for this, of course, must be regarded as the only tribunal before which the question can be decided; and if condemned by Scripture, there lies no further appeal, and the fact of their sinfulness is ascertained once and forever.

An oratorio, as the word is now employed, signifies a sacred subject set to both vocal and instrumental music, and performed by a hired band of professional musicians before a diversified assemblage of people brought together—not for worship, but for amusement. An oratorio is frequently associated, at what is termed a "musical festival," with balls operas and miscellaneous concerts.

I. Now I will first consider the oratorio with all its appendages as it is performed at a musical festival. Take, for instance, the celebrated one recently held in Birmingham. The following is a description of it: "The oratorios of David, of the giving of the Law from Mount Sinai, of the Messiah, and of the Last Judgment—were followed in the evenings by miscellaneous concerts, a fancy dress ball, and parts of two operas at the theater."

There may not be exactly the same subjects, or the same arrangements at all musical festivals, but the difference is so slight as not materially to alter their character—there is always the same mixture of what is sacred and what is worldly in them all.

I shall adduce here one or two passages of Scripture by which to test this practice; and the following, among many others, will suffice: "Whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do—do all to the glory of God." "Speaking to yourselves in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing and making melody in your hearts to the Lord." "Come out from among them, and be separate, and touch not the unclean thing." "Let us have grace, whereby we may serve God with reverence and godly fear, for our God is a consuming fire." "Guard your step when you go to the house of God. Better to draw near in obedience than to offer the sacrifice as fools do, for they are ignorant and do wrong. Do not be hasty to speak, and do not be impulsive to make a speech before God. God is in heaven and you are on earth, so let your words be few." (Ecclesiastes 5:1-2) "This is the Lord's declaration. I will look favorably on this kind of person: one who is humble, submissive in spirit, and who trembles at My word." (Isaiah 66:2) "Therefore, you should pray like this: Our Father in heaven, May Your name be honored as holy." (Matthew 6:9)

I now ask the question, "Is the oratorio glorifying God? Is it serving him with reverence and godly fear? Is it, or is it not, taking his name in vain? Is it using sacred subjects for the purpose for which they were revealed—or converting them into a public amusement?"

Some, perhaps, may challenge me for a definition of the term amusement. I give it—a gratification of the senses and imagination apart from true religion; an entertainment of the same class, and resorted to for the same purpose, as miscellaneous concerts, balls and dramatic representations. That oratorios are considered as belonging to this class is evident from their being usually associated with them. Can it be right then to convert the most solemn and sacred topics of revealed truth—into a mere worldly amusement, a gratification of sense, imagination, and taste—apart from devotion?

A very deep, and, at the same time, a very correct impression is sometimes produced by the first view of a subject, even before the mind enters upon any rigid analytical examination of it—the heart being often, on moral questions, in advance of the judgment, and ready almost instinctively to pronounce its decision before the mind confirms the sentence by the slower process of logical deduction. Let anyone, then, who pretends to a reverence for the Divine Being, and who trembles at his word, view the followingassociation of subjects:

The Giving of the Law from Sinai.

The History of David, the type of Christ.

The Redemption of the world by Christ.

The Last Judgment.

A Concert of Music, Songs, Glees, etc.

An Opera at the Theater.

Othello.

A Fancy Dress Ball.

What a strange and shocking mixture of subjects! What incongruous associations! Enough, one would imagine, to shock common sense, to say nothing of the feelings of piety!

But let me now change the usual form of announcing these performances, and suppose a placard stuck up at all corners of the town to this effect: "During the following week will be exhibited by men-singers and women-singers, and performers on musical instruments, hired on purpose for the amusement of the people of this town and neighborhood, a representation of the incarnation, sufferings and death of the Son of God for the salvation of lost souls, as set to music by Handel. In addition, the company will be entertained by a musical representation of David's History, of the Giving of the Law from Mount Sinai, and of the Coming of the Lord Jesus Christ to Judgment—all set forth by all the power of the grandest harmony. In the evening of each day, except the last, the pleasures of the public will be augmented by a miscellaneous concert; and the whole will be crowned with the amusing scenes of a Fancy Dress Ball."

This is in substance the announcement, paraphrased I admit, which is usually made of approaching musical festivals. Is this for the glory of God? Is this reverencing the Most High, and trembling at his word? What! this association of David and Shakespeare; Moses and Handel; the Messiah and Braham; Mount Sinai and the theater; the gaieties of the ball-room and the terrors of the Last Judgment! There is something almost irreverent, something very offensive to the delicate sensibilities of piety, in putting upon paper, or reading these matters in combination! What then are the realities of the performances themselves!

What, may it be conceived, would be the emotions of Moses, the servant of the Lord, in witnessing those scenes at which he trembled, set forth in music for the amusement of a mirthful assembly! Or, with what sentiments may it be supposed the Son of God beholds the scenes of his suffering life, atoning death, and final appearance in judgment, blended with all the hilarity of a musical festival, and sung by graceless men and women—for the entertainment of the multitude! Let those whose spiritual vision is not quite obscured by their musical taste, compare the scenes of an oratorio when "the Messiah" is being performed—and those of the house of God when the Lord's supper is celebrated—and remembering that the subject is the same in both, let them ask if both can be right? Is that same cross on which the Savior loved and died rightly appropriated—when it is used both for the purposes of devotion and amusement? True it is, that while the soul is held entranced by the magic spell of melody, or subdued by the solemn and overwhelming power of harmony, the attention may be as fixed, and the feeling may be as deep of its kind as during a sermon or a sacramental service; but no sooner has the melting solo died away in silence, or the exciting chorus been hushed, than all these delusive appearances of unreal devotion are lost again in one universal scene of gaiety and fashionable vanity!

The subject of the "Messiah," as revealed in the Holy Scriptures, is given for the purpose of bringing men to repentance, faith and salvation; to be the great means, through faith, of overcoming the world with all its lusts of the flesh, lusts of the eye, and the pride of life; to give a death blow to the love of the world in the heart of man; and to subjugate the senses and the imagination to unseen and eternal things. While in an oratorio, the cross of Christ, instead of crucifying us to the world, and the world to us, is employed as an amusement to add new attractions to earth, and to yield new gratifications to sense, and thus to make man more effectually the captive of that world—of which he should seek by faith to be the conqueror.

An attempt will be made perhaps to evade the force of this by affirming that the oratorio, though associated with fashionable amusements, is in itself something different from them; that it is a devotional exercise, and is eminently calculated to produce devotional feeling. But it may be asked, even on the supposition that this is true, whether it is not a very incongruous mixture of the mirthful and the devout; the vain and the solemn. Think of a person melted by the touching strains of "The Messiah" in the morning, and fluttering through the dance in the evening. Is there not something profane in such an association? But, after all, is it true that there is any real devotion to Christ, produced by an oratorio in the generality of those who attend it? In whose minds? Certainly not in theirs who are not usually and truly devout. We are sometimes indeed told that it is impossible to be otherwise than devout during the performance of Handel's sacred music—and that those who are susceptible of pious emotion nowhere else, who never weep, nor even feel under a sermon—are penetrated and softened by the pathos and the grandeur of his enchanting strains. This certainly is a very correct representation; but at the very same time is a very complete condemnation of that spurious devotion which is produced by the oratorio; for, in fact, such piety begins and ends with the sounds that awaken it! But is it real piety?

The religion of the Bible is an abiding principle, the effect of truth believed upon the mind, the heart, and the conscience—and not a vain pleasurable emotion produced by fine sounds appealing to the ear and to the imagination. The greatest profligate in all the assembly, yes, a deist or an atheist, is conscious of the same kind of 'devotional feeling' at such a time—as many who are professed believers in Christianity. It is almost impossible, I admit, for anyone, however abandoned he may be to error or vice, to avoid being rapt into ecstasy, or incited to tears—under the magical power of the strains which are uttered on such occasions. But is this devotion? No! It is nothing but an excitement of our animal or our imaginative nature! For only observe the consequencesof this excitement. Does any devout impression remain after it? Does any godly principle appear to have been implanted or strengthened by it? Is there a disposition felt by the mirthful multitude to come out and be separate from the world? Do they feel an increased disposition to read the Bible? Was it ever known that the tears shed during the performance of "The Messiah" induced one fair weeper to abstain from the ball in the evening? Or have the terrors felt at the performance of the "Last Judgment" induced any one to forego the pleasures of the dance? Are the churches more crowded than usual on the Sunday following a musical festival? Are the communicants multiplied at the Lord's supper?

On the contrary! Is not the truth rendered powerless and unattractive when stripped of the 'decorations' with which it is invested by the composer and performer of sacred music? The sermon that illustrates, yes, even the gospel that narrates, the sufferings of "the Messiah," are very dull things after the oratorio that has set them forth with all their fascinations and exquisite sounds.

It may be truly affirmed, therefore, that the devotion awakened by these means is of precisely the same kind and class of feelings as the compassion excited by a novel or a tragedy, a mere play upon the passions, which subsides as soon as the cause which produced it is suspended; and which, in fact, so completely exhausts the energies of the soul by the excitement of the imagination, as to leave no disposition to attend to the sober realities of life, the dictates of conscience, and the ordinary calls of duty. Nay, the mischief goes further than this—for a great delusion is foisted on the human mind in reference to a subject, which it is of infinite consequence should be kept as clear as possible from all mistake or confusion—I mean the nature of true devotion. Let the mere excitement of 'carnal feeling' be once supposed to constitute true religion, or religious emotion—and then, the man who can weep before a picture of the crucifixion, or while listening to a moving religious poem, or a touching strain of sacred music—will persuade himself that whatever may be his lack of holy principle, or whatever his sinful excesses—he has a 'spark of religion' still lingering in his soul, which may yet be fanned into a flame, and a feeling of piety which proves that he is not really as bad as he seems to be; and that he is a hopeful character, though not a godly person.

Next Part Oratorios 2

Back to John Angell James