I came to the Christian faith and the church community later than most. I was not reared in the church. My parents had both rejected the religious traditions of their youth – my father, his catholic roots and my mother
, her Anglican Church of England heritage. My mother and father were typical post WWII, blue-collar parents with four children seeking the American dream: enough money to put food on the table, savings enough to buy a small house outside the city, a good car, and a good school where their children would receive the education they never had . . . so that perhaps, one day, they might be able to even attend college. But church was never in the picture.
How I ended up, at the age of 21, sitting in the pew of a Dutch Reformed Church is a story better left for another time. Needless to say that as a kid brought up on Elvis Presley and the Beatles, in addition to my introduction into jazz as a young saxophonist, I found church music to be – square, using a “hip” word of the day. So, there I sat, trying to not only digest this “thing” called Christian faith, but also trying to get into the music, especially the hymns. Fortunately, our church organist had been trained at Juliard, so that while many other congregations were wading through ponderously slow renditions of the old standards, Evelyn was joyously skimming over the keyboard while respecting the traditional intent of each hymn. The large organ pipes rang out and even I, a jazz/rocker enthusiast came to enjoy and appreciate the hymns.
As I explored Christianity at a church-related college and then seminary I began to study the roots of hymnody – musically and theologically. By the time of my ordination and first pastorate I had a good sense for which hymns had theological and musical integrity. Even though the old-timers in the pew wanted to sing “The Old Rugged Cross” I favored new, contemporary hymns that sought to offer a new vitality to worship. But I also appreciated many traditional hymns that offered a good message and musical quality. One of my favorites, since my first days in the Dutch Reformed Church pew, was “Be Thou My Vision.” Perhaps it was the music’s me
lodic celtic roots (traced back to the 5th century AD) that nudged my English ancestry. Maybe it was the words about the wise, visionary presence of God’s call in my heart. Whatever the case, it’s a hymn that has stuck with me all through the years.
But how to arrange it for worship? I soon discovered that the way I wanted to play it on my sax was not the way most people could sing it. You’ll see that my arrangement of SLANE doesn’t change any of the notes. Rather it changes the rhythm, just enough, that its syncopation would challenge most congregations. We offered this arrangement in Volume One with the caveat in the notes: This highly syncopated version of SLANE may be better performed as an instrumental piece rather than as accompaniment to singing. I’ve tried to teach it several times in worship and even when prompted and led by a great jazz vocalist, folks in the pew have a difficult time finding the rhythm. So, perhaps it is used more effectively in worship as an anthem, an offertory or a postlude.
Perhaps. And yet the song calls out to be swung as a joyous affirmation of what we feel when we embrace the treasure of God’s presence within. The last time we tried this as a hymn an older woman came up to me after the service and said how much she liked it. She said, “To be truthful, young man, I just couldn’t sing it, but I wanted to dance it. But after my hip replacement I knew better than to try. So, I just let it dance through my heart.” Amen. I couldn’t have said it any better myself.