Liturgy: Cool Creeds

With trumpets and sound of cornet make a joyful noise before the Lord, the King.

—Psalm 98:6

So why not also with alto sax, clarinet, bongos and bass? Increasingly, U.S. churches are coming around to the idea that contemporary worship can have a contemporary beat, and jazz in the liturgy, once a way for adventurous pastors to shock their congregations, is now taken seriously as an approach that Christianity can follow in praising the Lord. More important, the jazz being heard in cathedral chancels is no longer amateurish doodling at Dixieland by clerics in their off-hours but scores composed and played by topflight professional musicians who are intrigued by the possibilities of blending their art with the traditional forms of the church's prayer. Three recent examples of the genre:

>At the annual meeting of the New York Conference of the Methodist Church in Bridgeport last month, Tenor Saxophonist Ed Summerlin, with sextet and chorus, presented the first performance of a new Liturgy of the Holy Spirit, with words by Poet William Robert Miller. Based vaguely on a Christian service described by the 2nd century theologian Hippolytus, the eclectic 14-part liturgy included jazz anthems in fairly conventional "cool" style, ballad-like congregational hymns reminiscent of Kurt Weill, choral passages as modal as a 14th century Mass. Florida-born Ed Summerlin began writing jazz for use in churches six years ago, when he poured out his grief at the loss of his nine-month-old daughter in a Requiem for Mary Jo, a jazz setting of the Methodist Order of Morning Prayer. Since then, he has written a score for Episcopal Evensong and is now working with Miller on A Pentecost Cantata.

>Just released by RCA Victor is a recording of the Jazz Suite on the Mass Texts by Argentinian Pianist Lalo Schifrin, who has worked with Dizzy Gillespie. Blending cool and bossa nova-like rhythms, Schifrin composed his setting of prayers from the Roman Catholic Mass out of conviction that the vitality of jazz is the best way to modernize the spirit of church worship. High point of the record is Schifrin's eerie, agonized Creed: behind the free-form obbligato of Paul Horn's alto sax, the eight members of a chorus autonomously sing, at their own pace and in their own key, the words of the Nicene Creed, dynamically ascending in volume with each phrase. By the final "amen," the shouting cacophony shatters the ear, yet conveys a sense that this too-familiar proclamation of faith is being heard for the first time.