Those of us who are members of the American Guild of Organists (AGO) will have received by now the August issue of The American Organist, which has an engaging review of a new book about Luther's theology of music by the Finnish scholar Miikka E. Anttila. Anttila's book, Luther's Theology of Music: Spiritual Beauty and Pleasure, should be a stimulating read for all of us who are blessed with a vocation and gift which we are often challenged to live and communicate as a respected discipline, a service in the Lord's house directly descended from the sacred Biblical caste of Levites, and certainly as more than merely (as some [even amongst our very own colleagues here] would have it) a saleable commodity with purely mendacious and contractual parameters.

Catholics will, of course, have a guarded approach to evaluating anything that the unfortunate ex-Augustinian monk might have to say to those whose Church he caused such strife. Still, as is known, there remains in this Luther's writings glimmers of, if not genius, strands of truth and intuition which beg to be acknowledged by the serious thinkers and fair-minded scholars who are 'set over the service of singing in the house of the Lord' (Exodus...).

Anttila begins by testing the very difficulty of reconciling a 'theology of pleasure' with 'the theology of the cross'. Such insight is a mark of the intellectual depth of his undertaking. Luther was, certainly, not lacking in his understanding and stressing of the cross and its actually redemptive nature. Still, his understanding of music as a gift of God was far in advance of any of the other 'reformers' and had potential application, indeed, roots, in the Catholic world. Participants in Anttila's tableau are such luminaries as St. Augustine of Hippo, Boethius, Isidore of Seville, Bernard of Clairvaux, Thomas Aquinas, even the XVIth century theorist Tinctoris, and the French theologian Jean Gerson. We travel through the ideal terrain of the 'music of the spheres' and its final refutation - though at least one of us remains uncertain that it has been refuted.

Making the case for 'spiritual beauty and pleasure' in spite of the 'theology of the cross', Anttila stresses Luther's insistence that 'not to take good, but to give it' is 'what it means to be God'. Further grounding is found in the very Our Father, in which we implore 'give us...our daily bread', which Luther takes to mean all that we need for our life in this world, which includes the spiritual gift of music, 'the greatest gift of God'. So, music is not an adiaphoron, a thing not commanded and optional (the word originated with Melancthon, not Luther), but an essential. Further, as Luther understood faith to be primarily a matter of the heart, not the intellect, music, with its unique capacity to move the heart, was self-evidently the greatest gift of God. (I'm sure that neither Anttila nor Luther would but agree with us in asserting that, yes, but, the greatest gift of God is our Lord, and his redemptive acts. Music, certainly, plays its role in all this. This, in fact, is, is it not, the greatest thing about which we have to sing!) Luther did not share Augustine's qualms about beautiful music and text. Said he, 'the sweetness of song does not prevent, but rather advances, the spiritual understanding.

Anttila stresses that Luther very strongly believed that not every kind of music was beneficent! He prized polyphony, admired Josquin, preserved much chant, was not within light years of his latter-day followers' paranoia over Latin, and was adamant that music should play a role in the education of young minds. He said 'all these songs are arranged in four parts to give the young something to wean them away from love ballads and carnal songs and to teach them something of value in their place'. He rejects bad music, calling it the work of Satan. In this, I have no doubt at all that he was spot on. 'Take special care to shun perverted minds [that] prostitute this lovely gift of nature and art with their erotic rantings and be quite assured that none but the devil goads them on to defy their very nature, which would and should praise God its Maker with the gift.' Anttilla, then, concludes that Luther's understanding of, shall we say, theologically pleasurable music, was what some nowadays would characterise as 'art music'. (I, for one, object strenuously to this pigeon-holing of what is, simply, music, as opposed to junk, as though it were an ivory-towered 'artsy' preserve with no appeal and import to the minds of all.) In sum, it may be asserted on Luther's behalf that music has a sacramental status, and, 'defined broadly, [is] the embodiment of beauty, a conduit for the Divine Spirit'. Nor was Luther alone amongst other Christian philosophers in holding music in such high regard and of profound theological import.

Here are a few more quotes from Luther himself:
1) The more skillfully composed the music, the more God makes it.
2) Music is of divine origin. (As an aside, one notes that even the Australian Aborigines have a highly developed understanding of the divine, other worldly origin of music.)
3) Full human creativity is required to celebrate the glory of God.

Anttila's book could, I think, bolster the spirituality that all of us know to be of the essence of music. It may well elevate our thoughts and illuminate them - and, at a more mundane level, provide a store of useful 'ammunition'.