This summer, I seek to improve my skills at improvisation. To that end, I have gone back to one of the basic tasks of the musician: Modal Counterpoint. This is the third time (at least) that I have sought to climb this mountain, at roughly fifteen-year intervals. It was a required course as an undergraduate, and I returned to it in preparation for the F.A.G.O. examinations in the 1990's. Here I stand again, in the Year of our Lord 2010, at the foot of the slope.
I began with the text I used in the 1990's. After three days, I tossed it on the discard pile. Instead, I returned to the source: Johann Joseph Fux (1660-1741), and his Gradus ad Parnassum, in a translation from the Latin by Alfred Mann. It is superior in every way to any modern text that I have encountered on the subject.
Needless to say, my opinion is not shared by the authors of said modern texts. An example of their views:
"The teaching of Counterpoint has for centuries past been confined to the system called Academic Counterpoint, embodied in the Five Species, first organized by Fux in his Gradus ad Parnassum (published 1725). . . . [T]he rigid adherence to a cantus firmus in even notes (already obsolete in the sixteenth century), and the exclusion, both of the ecclesiastical modes and of the rhythmic diversity of voice leading in the vocal polyphony, gives a highly artificial and stylistically misleading picture of the contrapuntal practice of the sixteenth century." [from the Preface to Direct Approach to Counterpoint in 16th Century Style (Gustave Fredric Soderlund), 1947, pg. vii]
Soderlund's book is useful, much better than the 1990's text that I discarded, and I have it alongside Fux for my work. But Soderlund misses the point; Fux wishes to teach his students about the contrapuntal practice of the sixteenth century, but not by directly imitating it, as Soderlund and the other modern theorists would do. Instead, he created an artificial method, the "Species Counterpoint" (or "Academic" Counterpoint as Soderlund called it).
"My object is to help young persons who want to learn. I knew and still know many who have fine talents and are most anxious to study; however, lacking means and a teacher, they cannot realize their ambition . . . Seeking a solution to this problem, I began, therefore, many years ago, to work out a method similar to that by which children learn first letters, then syllables, then combinations of syllables, and finally how to read and write." [from the Author's Foreward, Gradus ad Parnassum, p. 17-18]
I am no longer young, but I want to learn. And, unlike the imitative methods of the modern texts, the Five Species teach the student to manipulate the notes in such a way that the skills can be applied to one's own musical time and place.
Standing at the foot of the mountain, with the intent this time to work through the subject at the organ rather than on paper, and seeking to apply it to my own "compositions," I am daunted. It seems, at times, like a pathless wilderness. But it is not, and others have walked this path ahead of me, mighty men of old.
Joseph Haydn had sung under Fux's direction as a choirboy. After his voice change, when he and brother Michael were living in dire poverty in Vienna, Joseph taught himself to compose from the Gradus. "Haydn took infinite pains to assimilate the theory of Fux; he went through the whole work laboriously, writing out the exercises, then laying them aside for a few weeks, to look them over again later and polish them until he was satisfied he had done everything exactly right." (G. A. Griesinger, Biographical Notes on Joseph Haydn, p. 10; quoted in Alfred Mann's Introduction to his edition of Gradus ad Parnassum, p. xi). Wolfgang Mozart worked through Fux at his father's knee, and again under Padre Martini in 1770. As a teacher in his own right, Mozart continued to use Fux with his students. Some years later, Ludwig van Beethoven sought lessons from Joseph Haydn, and, finding him uncongenial as a teacher, turned to Johann Schenk, and finally Johann Georg Albrechtsberger. All three of these teachers based their instruction of this unruly young man on Fux.
Other students who learned from Fux's treatise include these, as listed in Mann's introduction (p. xiv): Cherubini, Berlioz, Chopin, Paganini, Hummel, Liszt, Schubert, Bruckner, Brahms, Richard Strauss, Hindemith.
There is one other Old Book that I should mention: the Essay on the True Art of Playing Keyboard Instruments, by Carl Philipp Emmanuel Bach, 1753. This spring, I worked through part of it, especially the section on Fingering (about a quarter of the book). I have seen many presentations of that subject, and Bach's Essay surpasses them all. Indeed, most later authors on this subject simply borrow from Bach, and present the material with less clarity.
My college and graduate textbooks and teachers mentioned these Old Books; they could hardly avoid it. But they did not use them, nor did they assign readings or exercises from them. I wish they had. Perhaps we are so fallen from the level of past generations that we are incapable of learning as they did. But the path is still there for those who want to attempt it.
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Saturday, June 19, 2010
Sunday best
The following is what I have written as a draft for my monthly column in the church newsletter. I am posting it here first because I am not at all certain that I should submit it, not least because I am the least likely person to talk about clothing. I have no eye for it, no sense of style or appropriateness. Most of all, I do not wish to pass judgment on anyone. Nonetheless, I think I have a point worth making.
Comments?
----
The days when church attendance meant suit, white shirt and tie, or dress with hat and gloves, are long gone. "Come as you are" is the modern watchword, along with "Casual" and "Comfortable." On the whole, these changes are probably for the best; no one should be excluded from worship, treated with disrespect, or caused to feel unwelcome because of their attire (James 2:1-9). But in our zeal to make church comfortable and welcoming, something has been lost.
Sunday, the Lord's Day, is special. For generations, people have put on their "Sunday best" to go to church. Even in times of hardship such as the Great Depression, when clothing was hard to come by, mothers tried to lay aside something nicer than "everyday" for their families to wear on Sunday. It is an aspect of the Christian observance of the commandment to "remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy" -- that is, set aside from the rest of the week (Exodus 20:8).
One need not spend much money in order to "dress up" for church; it can be done with thrift store purchases. And one must diligently avoid comparing people on the basis of their clothing. This includes comparing oneself to others, either positively or negatively. The point, rather, is that we are fellow-citizens with the saints and the household of God (Ephesians 2:19), and we should dress accordingly.
I am not calling for a return to the old days of shoehorning unwilling children into stiff and uncomfortable clothing that they dare not get dirty or torn. But for those not in the habit of "dressing up" for church, I suggest an experiment: next Sunday, wear something that is special, something that makes this day different from other days. It may be a single article of clothing, or a necklace, or a bracelet, so long as it is something with meaning. See what happens.
Comments?
----
The days when church attendance meant suit, white shirt and tie, or dress with hat and gloves, are long gone. "Come as you are" is the modern watchword, along with "Casual" and "Comfortable." On the whole, these changes are probably for the best; no one should be excluded from worship, treated with disrespect, or caused to feel unwelcome because of their attire (James 2:1-9). But in our zeal to make church comfortable and welcoming, something has been lost.
Sunday, the Lord's Day, is special. For generations, people have put on their "Sunday best" to go to church. Even in times of hardship such as the Great Depression, when clothing was hard to come by, mothers tried to lay aside something nicer than "everyday" for their families to wear on Sunday. It is an aspect of the Christian observance of the commandment to "remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy" -- that is, set aside from the rest of the week (Exodus 20:8).
One need not spend much money in order to "dress up" for church; it can be done with thrift store purchases. And one must diligently avoid comparing people on the basis of their clothing. This includes comparing oneself to others, either positively or negatively. The point, rather, is that we are fellow-citizens with the saints and the household of God (Ephesians 2:19), and we should dress accordingly.
I am not calling for a return to the old days of shoehorning unwilling children into stiff and uncomfortable clothing that they dare not get dirty or torn. But for those not in the habit of "dressing up" for church, I suggest an experiment: next Sunday, wear something that is special, something that makes this day different from other days. It may be a single article of clothing, or a necklace, or a bracelet, so long as it is something with meaning. See what happens.
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Purcell presents a dilemma
(read the entry posted earlier today; this one will make little sense if you don't)
I got the one necessary task done today: the annual choral music order, which is about half of the annual music budget. One dilemma was involved: the Purcell anthem mentioned in the previous post. I had two choices, which are indicative of a larger dilemma:
- order printed copies in the excellent edition by Novello: about $200
- download and Xerox the good public-domain edition on CPDL: free
Of course, it is not really free. But in budgetary terms it is; the Xeroxing does not come from the music budget. Such choices, multiplied manyfold, have made it almost impossible for traditional music publishers and vendors to deal with "classical" music. The market for it is already vanishingly small, and these days much of the repertoire is freely (and legally) available from CPDL or similar sources.
Music publishing is dying, and this is part of it. A larger factor is the widespread practice of illegal duplication. The most frequent excuses for this are that it saves time, and it is the "only" way to keep the ensemble going when there is little or no money to buy music. The time issue is genuine; most choral directors seem to live on the edge, selecting music for their groups at the last possible minute. When rehearsal is tomorrow evening, there is no time to order printed copies and wait for them to arrive; one is sorely tempted to take the single copy (perhaps itself a Xerox handed on from others) and run it through the Xerox machine.
We don't do that here, and it is one of many reasons that I obsessively plan ahead, far ahead. But, assuming legal sources, is it better stewardship of the church's money (and of our tiny music budget) to go with the least expensive method? Or is it better to support the continued publication of good music, and to support the excellent retail music store right around the corner from our parish, where several of our parishioners work?
This is a part of a still-larger dilemma. The "grocery store" nearest our apartment, within easy walking distance, is Wal-Mart. Should I shop there, being ecologically responsible by walking there and back? Or do I hop in the car, burn fossil fuel, and go to an employee-owned (and much better) traditional grocery store several miles away where the people know me by name, and pay more? (I do; I almost never go to Wal-Mart. Almost.) Or do I pay even more at the food cooperative or the farmer's market for locally grown produce? I bought a bag of locally grown organic spinach a few weeks ago when it was in season: $7 and change. A similarly sized bag of Dole spinach, probably from California, was at the grocery store on sale that week for 99 cents. I vacillate; sometimes I pay more, sometimes I think that paying more is not congruent with a life of simplicity, and that I ought to eat the cheapest possible foods in solidarity with the poor. Ultimately, that would mean Ramen noodles, white rice, and beans at Wal-Mart, driving the traditional grocer -- and local farmers -- out of business.
I ordered the Novello edition, part of what is probably a thousand-dollar order at that music shop around the corner. But to stay within budget, I am taking several other pieces, such as the Byrd Mass, from CPDL.
I got the one necessary task done today: the annual choral music order, which is about half of the annual music budget. One dilemma was involved: the Purcell anthem mentioned in the previous post. I had two choices, which are indicative of a larger dilemma:
- order printed copies in the excellent edition by Novello: about $200
- download and Xerox the good public-domain edition on CPDL: free
Of course, it is not really free. But in budgetary terms it is; the Xeroxing does not come from the music budget. Such choices, multiplied manyfold, have made it almost impossible for traditional music publishers and vendors to deal with "classical" music. The market for it is already vanishingly small, and these days much of the repertoire is freely (and legally) available from CPDL or similar sources.
Music publishing is dying, and this is part of it. A larger factor is the widespread practice of illegal duplication. The most frequent excuses for this are that it saves time, and it is the "only" way to keep the ensemble going when there is little or no money to buy music. The time issue is genuine; most choral directors seem to live on the edge, selecting music for their groups at the last possible minute. When rehearsal is tomorrow evening, there is no time to order printed copies and wait for them to arrive; one is sorely tempted to take the single copy (perhaps itself a Xerox handed on from others) and run it through the Xerox machine.
We don't do that here, and it is one of many reasons that I obsessively plan ahead, far ahead. But, assuming legal sources, is it better stewardship of the church's money (and of our tiny music budget) to go with the least expensive method? Or is it better to support the continued publication of good music, and to support the excellent retail music store right around the corner from our parish, where several of our parishioners work?
This is a part of a still-larger dilemma. The "grocery store" nearest our apartment, within easy walking distance, is Wal-Mart. Should I shop there, being ecologically responsible by walking there and back? Or do I hop in the car, burn fossil fuel, and go to an employee-owned (and much better) traditional grocery store several miles away where the people know me by name, and pay more? (I do; I almost never go to Wal-Mart. Almost.) Or do I pay even more at the food cooperative or the farmer's market for locally grown produce? I bought a bag of locally grown organic spinach a few weeks ago when it was in season: $7 and change. A similarly sized bag of Dole spinach, probably from California, was at the grocery store on sale that week for 99 cents. I vacillate; sometimes I pay more, sometimes I think that paying more is not congruent with a life of simplicity, and that I ought to eat the cheapest possible foods in solidarity with the poor. Ultimately, that would mean Ramen noodles, white rice, and beans at Wal-Mart, driving the traditional grocer -- and local farmers -- out of business.
I ordered the Novello edition, part of what is probably a thousand-dollar order at that music shop around the corner. But to stay within budget, I am taking several other pieces, such as the Byrd Mass, from CPDL.
porch swings, a wedding, Howells, and Byrd
Because of concerts and rehearsals for them, I was at the church late on Wednesday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, and did not get enough sleep. Monday was a day off, but it was filled with errands -- though I did manage to get a nap in the afternoon. Tuesday was election day, which meant I was working at the polling place. This is Good Work, both a pleasure and a civic duty, but it is a long day: appear at the polling place by 6 a.m., finish the day around 11 p.m. After four and a half hours of sleep, I was up early again this morning to cycle in for Matins.
I am tired, which has slowed me down this morning. Still, it is now afternoon, and I have done very little. Greeting me in the e-mail was information about my niece's wedding later this summer in Nashville. I decided that I do not want to pay $115 a night (plus tax, tips, etc.) to stay in the hotel (a discount from the regular rate of $250, but still far out of my league), so I sought other options, poring over motel reviews on the internet. I found a very good place for my first night, when I will be driving in from the midwest: a well-reviewed motel in Clarksville that caters to military families for just over $40 (including tax). But that is still about an hour from the wedding site; I needed something closer for the next two nights. I found it: a well-regarded family campground not far north of Nashville. It is mostly an RV site, but they have some little and modestly priced rustic cabins. I would be happier in my tent, but it is a wedding, and I should make an effort to appear halfway civilized and clean. It is possible to do that while living in a tent, but not easy.
It was a delight to talk on the phone with the young lady at the RV park. Her cheerful Tennessee drawl made me ache with homesickness for the South and the hill country. She told me of the free bluegrass music at the pavilion the first night of my stay; no, I will be at the rehearsal dinner. I saw the pictures of the rustic little cabins, complete with porch swing out front. I want to just go and sit on such a swing, with bluegrass music not far away, in a Tennessee summer evening. Maybe they will still be pickin' when I get back after the dinner.
Or there are other options: they run a shuttle on Saturday evening to the Grand Ol' Opry, which (since the flood) is back in their historic venue, the Ryman Auditorium, with discounted tickets for campground guests. I would love to take in a show, but it is at the same time as the wedding reception. "Duty, Cassie. Duty." I would not be going to Nashville at all were it not for the wedding. This time belongs to my family, not me.
Luxury hotels are not for me. Lavish weddings are not for me, not even when it is the wedding of the young lady whom I love as a daughter, my only niece. Porch swings in a Tennessee summer evening? Yes, that is more like it.
But so is Music. Having lots of hours at the church last week -- it was the second-most hours on duty in one week this year, almost as many as Holy Week -- I dove into the selection of Anthems for the year. This is work which benefits from concentrated attention, and almost impossible for me during the program year, so I was grateful for the opportunity to get it done in one week. It is as close as I ever come to grasping the whole Story -- the year's liturgical cycle, all at once.
There are some moments that should be good. We will make another try at Lynn Trapp's setting of "In the cycle of the seasons" for Christ the King, Nov. 21, where it is a perfect fit to the propers. One of our own parish composers is writing a new set of Preces & Responses for Evensong, and we are going to attempt the Howells "St. John's, Cambridge" evening canticles. I was pleasantly surprised to see that, almost without realizing it, we have eight settings of the evening canticles in our repertoire; Howells will make it nine, if we can manage it. We are going to repeat Bruckner's "Virga Jesse floruit" on Advent II, Dec. 5. I am going to make another try for the Canonic Variations of JSB in alternation with the singing of "Vom Himmel hoch" at Evensong on January 2 -- it was scheduled for last January's Evensong, but the organ was still in storage. On Last Epiphany, March 6, we will attempt Purcell's "O God, thou art my God," with its Alleluias that were later arranged into the tune "Westminster Abbey." We will do RVW's "Easter Hymn" at the Great Vigil.
In some respects, selecting music is like looking closely at a little wildflower in the grass, beautiful and perfect -- and then looking up to see a meadow filled with them. I wanted a setting of the Agnus Dei for Epiphany II, January 16 (St. John the Baptist says "Behold the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin of the world.") The Choral Public Domain Library has about six hundred settings of the Mass. Six hundred! How can anyone choose just one? (oh, for a parish where the Ordinary of the Mass is sung by choir every Sunday!) I settled on the Agnus Dei from Wm. Byrd's Mass for Three Voices, which will require quite a bit of rehearsal through the fall. Worthwhile rehearsal, that will be; the setting is as perfect as anything I know.
At the furthest reach of my plans: Oct. 23, 2011 - "Lord, thou hast been our refuge" (RVW), with the Youth Choir doing the semichorus part. This will be unorthodox, but I believe that RVW, practical musician that he was, would approve. The young people will sing the lines "The years of our life are threescore years and ten..." to the adults; I get chills imagining it, and contemplating a whole semester of living with Psalm 90 and this magnificent music alongside the young people. Singing it will teach them the Psalm more thoroughly than any words could do.
That is followed the next week with "At the round earth's imagin'd corners" (Lee Hoiby), and the following Sunday with the spiritual "Ain'-a that good news" in William Dawson's arrangement, and for Nov. 13, the old Friends song "How can I keep from singing?" I cannot find an arrangement of this that I like, so we will sing it from a hymnal version and I will probably improvise a piano accompaniment.
It was with this that I finished the planning work, for now:
"My life flows on in endless song;
Above earth's lamentation,
I hear the sweet, though far-off hymn
That hails a new creation.
Through all the tumult and the strife,
I hear the music ringing;
It finds an echo in my soul,
How can I keep from singing?"
I am tired, which has slowed me down this morning. Still, it is now afternoon, and I have done very little. Greeting me in the e-mail was information about my niece's wedding later this summer in Nashville. I decided that I do not want to pay $115 a night (plus tax, tips, etc.) to stay in the hotel (a discount from the regular rate of $250, but still far out of my league), so I sought other options, poring over motel reviews on the internet. I found a very good place for my first night, when I will be driving in from the midwest: a well-reviewed motel in Clarksville that caters to military families for just over $40 (including tax). But that is still about an hour from the wedding site; I needed something closer for the next two nights. I found it: a well-regarded family campground not far north of Nashville. It is mostly an RV site, but they have some little and modestly priced rustic cabins. I would be happier in my tent, but it is a wedding, and I should make an effort to appear halfway civilized and clean. It is possible to do that while living in a tent, but not easy.
It was a delight to talk on the phone with the young lady at the RV park. Her cheerful Tennessee drawl made me ache with homesickness for the South and the hill country. She told me of the free bluegrass music at the pavilion the first night of my stay; no, I will be at the rehearsal dinner. I saw the pictures of the rustic little cabins, complete with porch swing out front. I want to just go and sit on such a swing, with bluegrass music not far away, in a Tennessee summer evening. Maybe they will still be pickin' when I get back after the dinner.
Or there are other options: they run a shuttle on Saturday evening to the Grand Ol' Opry, which (since the flood) is back in their historic venue, the Ryman Auditorium, with discounted tickets for campground guests. I would love to take in a show, but it is at the same time as the wedding reception. "Duty, Cassie. Duty." I would not be going to Nashville at all were it not for the wedding. This time belongs to my family, not me.
Luxury hotels are not for me. Lavish weddings are not for me, not even when it is the wedding of the young lady whom I love as a daughter, my only niece. Porch swings in a Tennessee summer evening? Yes, that is more like it.
But so is Music. Having lots of hours at the church last week -- it was the second-most hours on duty in one week this year, almost as many as Holy Week -- I dove into the selection of Anthems for the year. This is work which benefits from concentrated attention, and almost impossible for me during the program year, so I was grateful for the opportunity to get it done in one week. It is as close as I ever come to grasping the whole Story -- the year's liturgical cycle, all at once.
There are some moments that should be good. We will make another try at Lynn Trapp's setting of "In the cycle of the seasons" for Christ the King, Nov. 21, where it is a perfect fit to the propers. One of our own parish composers is writing a new set of Preces & Responses for Evensong, and we are going to attempt the Howells "St. John's, Cambridge" evening canticles. I was pleasantly surprised to see that, almost without realizing it, we have eight settings of the evening canticles in our repertoire; Howells will make it nine, if we can manage it. We are going to repeat Bruckner's "Virga Jesse floruit" on Advent II, Dec. 5. I am going to make another try for the Canonic Variations of JSB in alternation with the singing of "Vom Himmel hoch" at Evensong on January 2 -- it was scheduled for last January's Evensong, but the organ was still in storage. On Last Epiphany, March 6, we will attempt Purcell's "O God, thou art my God," with its Alleluias that were later arranged into the tune "Westminster Abbey." We will do RVW's "Easter Hymn" at the Great Vigil.
In some respects, selecting music is like looking closely at a little wildflower in the grass, beautiful and perfect -- and then looking up to see a meadow filled with them. I wanted a setting of the Agnus Dei for Epiphany II, January 16 (St. John the Baptist says "Behold the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin of the world.") The Choral Public Domain Library has about six hundred settings of the Mass. Six hundred! How can anyone choose just one? (oh, for a parish where the Ordinary of the Mass is sung by choir every Sunday!) I settled on the Agnus Dei from Wm. Byrd's Mass for Three Voices, which will require quite a bit of rehearsal through the fall. Worthwhile rehearsal, that will be; the setting is as perfect as anything I know.
At the furthest reach of my plans: Oct. 23, 2011 - "Lord, thou hast been our refuge" (RVW), with the Youth Choir doing the semichorus part. This will be unorthodox, but I believe that RVW, practical musician that he was, would approve. The young people will sing the lines "The years of our life are threescore years and ten..." to the adults; I get chills imagining it, and contemplating a whole semester of living with Psalm 90 and this magnificent music alongside the young people. Singing it will teach them the Psalm more thoroughly than any words could do.
That is followed the next week with "At the round earth's imagin'd corners" (Lee Hoiby), and the following Sunday with the spiritual "Ain'-a that good news" in William Dawson's arrangement, and for Nov. 13, the old Friends song "How can I keep from singing?" I cannot find an arrangement of this that I like, so we will sing it from a hymnal version and I will probably improvise a piano accompaniment.
It was with this that I finished the planning work, for now:
"My life flows on in endless song;
Above earth's lamentation,
I hear the sweet, though far-off hymn
That hails a new creation.
Through all the tumult and the strife,
I hear the music ringing;
It finds an echo in my soul,
How can I keep from singing?"
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
The Proverbs
The Lectionary gave us a taste of the Proverbs last week before moving on to Ecclesiastes. Both are attributed (more or less) to Solomon, son of David, to whom I Kings 4:32 attributes three thousand proverbs. Linguistic reasons make it virtually certain that both books received their final form centuries later. Prov. 25:1, while specifically referring to only a portion of the book, is a likely indicator of how most or all of these two books were written: "These are also proverbs of Solomon which the men of Hezekiah king of Judah copied out." Some of Solomon is likely in the background of the Proverbs, and perhaps much more that got attached to his name in the same way as did the "Psalms of David," or the repertoire of "Gregorian Chant." Many of the proverbs are far too earthy for someone who spent his life in royal luxury. I suspect that they were the folk wisdom, the "old wives' sayings" of the people. It could well be that Solomon had enough sense to recognize this wisdom and collect such sayings, to which collection other sayings accreted in succeeding generations and later editors assembled into what we have; if so, he is to be blessed for it. In any event, both Proverbs and Ecclesiastes are treasures.
It is hard to imagine these two books coming from the same person. As if that is not enough, there is the Song of Solomon as well, which seems utterly unlikely for the polygamous king -- more likely is that the first verse "The song of songs, which is Solomon's" is in the sense that it is written/sung for Solomon, not by him. But making the assumption for a moment that Solomon is the source of all three books, what a complex person he must have been! No wonder he fascinated the Queen of Sheba (I Kings 10:1-10, c.f. Matt. 12:42). It is out of fashion to do so, but I readily accept the idea of Solomon as a wise, subtle, complex, and very great individual. And flawed, as Scripture makes abundantly clear.
I wrote elsewhere about Ecclesiastes, in the context of local events of two years ago. As I said there, my personal theory of authorship, completely unsupported by any scholarship, is Hezekiah, also a "son of David, king in Jerusalem" (Eccles. 1:1).
But for now, Proverbs:
The first time that I dipped into the Analects of Confucius, I said to myself "This is like Proverbs!" It is not especially religious; it is much more interested in practical life. It seems to be a jumbled mass of unconnected sayings. And both the Analects and the Proverbs remind us that these little kernals of wisdom are gifts from God, and an indispensable part of the foundation of civil society.
As with the rest of Scripture, application is fraught with peril. How many children have been physically abused because of 23:13-14? "Withhold not correction from the child: for if thou beatest him with the rod, he shall not die. Thou shalt beat him with the rod, and shalt deliver his soul from hell." On another front, the Proverbs have much that is negative to say about women -- these passages are fascinating if one tries to imagine Solomon writing them. But the "loud and stubborn" woman (7:11), and the "strange" woman (5:3), and the "contentious and angry" woman (21:19) must be balanced against Hagia Sophia: "Wisdom hath builded her house, she hath hewn out her seven pillars..." (chapter 9). The contrast of the two is doubtless intentional in chapters seven through nine. Finally, there is the crowning glory and conclusion of the book, 31:10-31.
I do not often speak of my wife in these pages, for she would not have it so, but I must record here that when I read of this "virtuous woman" whose "price is far above rubies," I think of my wife, who is all of the things described in this passage. "Many daughters have done virtuously, but thou excellest them all" (31:29).
It is hard to imagine these two books coming from the same person. As if that is not enough, there is the Song of Solomon as well, which seems utterly unlikely for the polygamous king -- more likely is that the first verse "The song of songs, which is Solomon's" is in the sense that it is written/sung for Solomon, not by him. But making the assumption for a moment that Solomon is the source of all three books, what a complex person he must have been! No wonder he fascinated the Queen of Sheba (I Kings 10:1-10, c.f. Matt. 12:42). It is out of fashion to do so, but I readily accept the idea of Solomon as a wise, subtle, complex, and very great individual. And flawed, as Scripture makes abundantly clear.
I wrote elsewhere about Ecclesiastes, in the context of local events of two years ago. As I said there, my personal theory of authorship, completely unsupported by any scholarship, is Hezekiah, also a "son of David, king in Jerusalem" (Eccles. 1:1).
But for now, Proverbs:
The first time that I dipped into the Analects of Confucius, I said to myself "This is like Proverbs!" It is not especially religious; it is much more interested in practical life. It seems to be a jumbled mass of unconnected sayings. And both the Analects and the Proverbs remind us that these little kernals of wisdom are gifts from God, and an indispensable part of the foundation of civil society.
As with the rest of Scripture, application is fraught with peril. How many children have been physically abused because of 23:13-14? "Withhold not correction from the child: for if thou beatest him with the rod, he shall not die. Thou shalt beat him with the rod, and shalt deliver his soul from hell." On another front, the Proverbs have much that is negative to say about women -- these passages are fascinating if one tries to imagine Solomon writing them. But the "loud and stubborn" woman (7:11), and the "strange" woman (5:3), and the "contentious and angry" woman (21:19) must be balanced against Hagia Sophia: "Wisdom hath builded her house, she hath hewn out her seven pillars..." (chapter 9). The contrast of the two is doubtless intentional in chapters seven through nine. Finally, there is the crowning glory and conclusion of the book, 31:10-31.
I do not often speak of my wife in these pages, for she would not have it so, but I must record here that when I read of this "virtuous woman" whose "price is far above rubies," I think of my wife, who is all of the things described in this passage. "Many daughters have done virtuously, but thou excellest them all" (31:29).
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