BOYD K. PACKER
This fireside address was given at Brigham Young University on 1 February 1976.©2003 by Brigham Young University. All rights reserved. Complete volumes of Speeches are available wherever LDS books are sold.
I am particularly appreciative of the music we've just heard, and quote from section 25 of the Doctrine and Covenants:
For my soul delighteth in the song of the heart; yea, the song of the righteous is a prayer unto me, and it shall be answered with a blessing upon their heads. [D&C 25:12]
I very anxiously lay claim to those blessings from these righteous young men and women who have sung so beautifully this sacred hymn of Zion. My gratitude to them will, I'm sure, be more obvious when I move into the message that I have chosen to speak upon tonight.
I want to respond to a question that I face with some frequency. It has many variations, but the theme is this: Why do we not have more inspired and inspiring music in the Church? Or why do we have so few great paintings or sculptures depicting the Restoration? Why is it when we need a new painting for a bureau of information, or perhaps for a temple, frequently nonmember painters receive the commission? The same questions have an application to poetry, to drama, to dance, to creative writing, to all the fine arts.
Now, I'm sure there are those who will say, "Why does he presume to talk about that? He is uninformed. He is just out of his province." It may comfort them to know that I know that. My credentials to speak do not come from being a musician, for I'm not. I am not a composer, nor a conductor, and certainly I am not a vocalist. I cannot, for example, play the piano. I would be very unwilling to do so. However, should I be pressed to it, I could, without much difficulty, prove my point. I am not adequate as an artist, nor as a sculptor, a poet, or a writer.
But then I do not intend to train you in any of those fields. My credentials, if I have any (some of them should be obvious), relate to spiritual things.
I hope for sufficient inspiration to comment on how the Spirit of the Lord influences or is influenced by the art forms that I have mentioned. Since I have been interested in these matters, I have, over the years, listened very carefully when they have been discussed by the Brethren. I have studied expressions of my Brethren and of those who have led us in times past, in order to determine how those questions should be answered.
The reason we have not yet produced a greater heritage in art and literature and music and drama is not, I am very certain, because we have not had talented people. For over the years we have had not only good ones but great ones. Some have reached great heights in their chosen fields. But few have captured the spirit of the gospel of Jesus Christ and the restoration of it in music, in art, in literature. They have not, therefore, even though they were gifted, made a lasting contribution to the onrolling of the Church and kingdom of God in the dispensation of the fulness of times. They have therefore missed doing what they might have done, and they have missed being what they might have become. I am reminded of the statement "There are many who struggle and climb and finally reach the top of the ladder, only to find that it is leaning against the wrong wall."
If you are willing to listen, I would like to express some concerns I have had over these matters and describe to you some disappointments I have heard expressed among the leaders of the Church.
Because I intend to be quite direct in my comments, I am a bit concerned. For I know when we touch this subject we talk of people who are very gifted. And people who are very gifted, it would seem, tend to be temperamental.
We were discussing some time ago the music and musicians of the Church, when one of the Twelve pointed out that it may be difficult to get instruction across because some of our musicians, among others, have a tendency to be temperamental. "Yes," observed one of the senior members of our Quorum, "More temper than mental." That, I suppose, describes all of us at one time or another.
Before I continue, I want it clearly understood that we have in the Church tens of thousands of gifted people who not only have talent, but who are generous with it. Our gifted people are greatly needed in the Church.
The work of the Lord has been moved by the members in the wards and stakes and branches who have been blessed with special gifts and who use them unselfishly. Because of what they do, we are able to feel and learn very quickly through music, through art, through poetry some spiritual things that we would otherwise learn very slowly. All of us are indebted to them for their generous service. I am humbly grateful to those who render such service in the Church. But then it is only right that they should contribute.
You who have such talents might well ask, "Whence comes this gift?" And gift it is. You may have cultivated it and developed it, but it was given to you. Most of us do not have it. You were not more deserving than we, but you are a good deal more responsible. If you use your gift properly, opportunities for service are opened that will be beneficial eternally for you and for others.
Has it ever occurred to you that you may leave this life without it? If the gift is yours because of the shape of your vocal cords, or the strength of your lungs, or because of the coordination of your hands, or because your eye registers form and color, you may leave the gift behind. You may have to be content with what you have become, because you possessed it while you were here. It has not been revealed just how this would be. I rather suspect that those gifts which we use properly will stay with us beyond the veil. And I repeat, you who are gifted may not be more deserving, but you are much more responsible than the rest of us.
Elder Orson F. Whitney said:
We will yet have Miltons and Shakespeares of our own. God's ammunition is not exhausted. His highest spirits are held in reserve for the latter times. In God's name and by His help we will build up a literature whose tops will touch the heaven, though its foundation may now be low on the earth. [Lecture delivered at YMMIA conference, 3 June 1888, in Brian H. Stuy, comp. and ed., Collected Discourses, vol. 1 (Burbank, California: B.H.S. Publishing, 1987), p. 154]
Since that statement was made in 1888, those foundations have been raised up very slowly. The greatest poems are not yet written, nor the paintings finished. The greatest hymns and anthems of the Restoration are yet to be composed. The sublimest renditions of them are yet to be conducted. We move forward much slower than need be, and I would like to underline some things that stand in our way.
You will quickly notice that I refer frequently to music. There is a reason for that. We use it more often. But the point that I shall make about the musician applies to all the arts: painting, poetry, drama, dance, and others.
For some reason it takes a constant vigilance on the part of priesthood leaders--both general and local--to ensure that music presented in our worship and devotional services is music that is appropriate for worship and devotional services. I have heard presidents of the Church declare after a general conference, or after a temple dedication, words to this effect (and I am quoting verbatim from one such experience):
I suppose we did not give enough attention to the music. It seems that our musicians must take such liberties. Something spiritual was lost from our meetings because the music was not what it should have been. Next time we must remember to give them more careful instructions.
Why is it that the president of the Church, or the president of the stake, or the bishop of the ward must be so attentive in arranging music for worship services and conference meetings? Why should the anxiety persist that, if the musicians are left to do what they want to do, the result will not invite the Spirit of the Lord?
I have in the past made not altogether successful attempts to set a mood of devotion on a very sacred subject, having been invited to the pulpit immediately after a choir or choral number that was well performed but did nothing to inspire the spirit of devotion; or after a brass ensemble has rendered music that has nothing to do with spiritual inspiration.
The selections, which for other purposes might have been admirable, even impressive, failed in their inspiration simply because they were not appropriate. For some other gathering, some other time, some other place, yes--but they did not do what the hymns of the Restoration could have done. How sad when a gifted person has no real sense of propriety!
Let me illustrate this matter of propriety. Suppose you sponsor a pep rally in the stadium with the purpose of exciting the student body to a high point of enthusiasm. Suppose you invite someone to present a musical number with the expectation that the music would contribute to your purpose. Imagine him playing a sonata on an organ in subdued tones that lulls everyone into a contemplative and reflective mood. However well composed the music, or however well performed, it would not be appropriate for the occasion.
This example, of course, is obvious. It makes me wonder, therefore, why we must be constantly alert to have appropriate music in our sacrament meetings, conference sessions, and other worship services. Music and art and dance and literature can be very appropriate in one place and in one setting and for one purpose and be very wrong in another. That can be true of instruments as well.
We have, in our instruction to the musicians of the Church, this suggestion:
Organs and pianos are the standard musical instruments used in sacrament meetings. Other instruments, such as orchestral strings, may be used when appropriate, but the music presented must be in keeping with the reverence and spirituality of the meeting. Brass and percussion instruments generally are not appropriate. [General Handbook of Instructions, 1976, p. 23]
We are under resistance from some highly trained musicians who insist that they can get as much inspiration from brass instruments or a guitar solo as from a choir. I believe that an organ perhaps could be played at a pep rally in a way to incite great enthusiasm. And I think a brass section could play a hymn in such a way as to be reverent and fitting in a worship service. But if it should happen, it would have to be an exception. We cannot convey a sacred message in an art form that is not appropriate and have anything spiritual happen. But there is a constant attempt to do it.
Several years ago one of the organizations of the Church produced a filmstrip. The subject matter was very serious and the script was well written. The producer provided a story board. A story board is a series of loose, almost scribbled sketches, sometimes with a little color brushed across them, to roughly illustrate each frame of the filmstrip. Very little work is invested in a story board. It is merely to give an idea and is always subject to revision.
Some members of the committee were amused by the story board itself. It had a loose, comical air about it. They decided to photograph the illustrations on the story board and use them in the filmstrip. They thought they would be quite amusing and entertaining.
When the filmstrip was reviewed by four members of the Council of the Twelve, it was rejected. It had to be made over again. Why? Because the art form used simply was not appropriate to the message. You just don't teach sacred, serious subjects with careless, scribbled illustrations.
Now, again to music. There have been a number of efforts to take sacred gospel themes and tie them to modern music in the hope of attracting our young people to the message. Few events in all of human history surpass the spiritual majesty of the First Vision. We would be ill-advised to describe that event, the visit of Elohim and Jehovah, in company with rock music, even soft rock music, or to take equally sacred themes and set them to a modern beat. I do not know how that can be done and result in increased spirituality. I think it cannot be done.
When highly trained artists insist, as they occasionally do, that they receive spiritual experience in tying a sacred gospel theme to an inappropriate art form, I must conclude that they do not know, not really, the difference between when the Spirit of the Lord is present and when it is not.
Very frequently when our musicians, particularly the more highly trained among them, are left to do what they want to do, they perform in such a way as to call attention to themselves and their ability. They do this rather than give prayerful attention to what will inspire. I do not mean "inspire" as the music or art of the world can inspire. I mean inspire!
They are not content to use the hymns and anthems of the Restoration, for such a presentation, they feel, will not demonstrate their full capacities. When pressed to do so, they may grudgingly put a hymn on the program. But it is obvious that their heart isn't in it, for the numbers they select themselves seem to say, "Now let us show you what we really can do."
We instruct stake presidents that "preference should be given to the singing of well-known hymns" at stake conferences (1976 Stake Conference Program Schedules).
I know there are those who think that our Church music is limited. Some with professional abilities evidently soon get very tired of it. They want to stray from it and reach out into the world. They present the argument that many of the hymns in our hymnbook were not written for the Church or by members of the Church. I know that already. And some of them are not really as compelling as they might be. Their messages are not as specific as we could have if we produced our own. But by association they have taken on a meaning that reminds members of the Church, whenever they hear them, of the restoration of the gospel, of the Lord, and of His ministry.
Sometimes, to ensure that music will be appropriate, one of the hymns or anthems of the Restoration is specifically requested. "Oh, but they sang that last conference," our conductors will say. Indeed we did, and we preached the same gospel last conference also. The preaching of it over and over again gives it a familiar and a warm feeling. We build it into our lives.
As speakers we are not trying to impress the world with how talented we are as preachers. We are simply trying to get across, by repetition, if that's the only way, the sacred message that has been entrusted to us.
Those of us who lead the Church are not constantly seeking new doctrine to introduce. We simply teach over and over again that which was in the beginning. It is with great difficulty that we try to pass on to the next generation, in some form of purity, that which was given to us. We will lose it if we are not wise.
The musician may say, "Do you really want us to take those few familiar hymns and present them over and over again with no introduction of anything new?" No, that is not what I would want, but it is close.
What I would desire would be to have the hymns of the Restoration characteristic of our worship services, with others added if they are appropriate. There are a great many things from elsewhere that are very appropriate. Many numbers can be used in our worship services with complete propriety.
Our hymns speak the truth as far as they go. They could speak more of it if we had more of them, specifically teaching the principles of the restored gospel of Jesus Christ.
If I had my way there would be many new hymns with lyrics near scriptural in their power, bonded to music that would inspire people to worship. Think how much we could be helped by another inspired anthem or hymn of the Restoration. Think how we could be helped by an inspired painting on a scriptural theme or depicting our heritage. How much we could be aided by a graceful and modest dance, by a persuasive narrative, or poem, or drama. We could have the Spirit of the Lord more frequently and in almost unlimited intensity if we would.
For the most part, we do without because the conductor wants to win the acclaim of the world. He does not play to the Lord, but to other musicians. The composer and the arranger want to please the world. The painter wants to be in style. And so our resources of art and music grow ever so gradually. And we find that there have marched through this grand parade of mortality men and women who were sublimely gifted, but who spent all, or most, in the world and for the world. And I repeat that they may well one day come to learn that "many men struggle to reach the top of the ladder, only to find that it is leaning against the wrong wall."
It is a mistake to assume that one can follow the ways of the world and then somehow, in a moment of intruded inspiration, compose a great anthem of the Restoration, or in a moment of singular inspiration paint the great painting. When it is done, it will be done by one who has yearned and tried and longed fervently to do it, not by one who has condescended to do it. It will take quite as much preparation and work as any masterpiece, and a different kind of inspiration.
There is a test you might apply if you are among the gifted. Ask yourself this question: When I am free to do what I really want to do, what will it be?
If you find that you are ashamed of our humble heritage in the arts, that ought to be something of a signal to you. Often artists are not free to create what they most desire because the market demands other things of them. But what about when you are free? Do you have a desire to produce what the Church needs? Or do you desire to convince the Church that it needs to change style so the world will feel comfortable with it? Although our artistic heritage as yet is relatively small, we are losing some of what we have--through neglect!
At the recent rededication of the St. George Temple each session was closed, as is traditional in a temple dedication, with the presentation of the "Hosanna Anthem." The audience, on the signal from the conductor, joins with the choir on that part of the anthem known widely through the Church as "The Spirit of God Like a Fire Is Burning." I sat through those sessions and carefully observed, with great sorrow, that fully 80 percent of those in the audience did not know the words.
We can lose our heritage. We have lost part of it. Let me cite an example in the field of poetry.
William Ernest Henley wrote "Invictus," a proud, almost defiant expression that concludes:
I am the master of my fate: I am the captain of my soul.
[Echoes, 1888, No. 4, In Memoriam R. T. Hamilton Bruce ("Invictus"), stanza 4]
Some years ago an answer to "Invictus" was given. Let me quote it to you:
Art thou in truth? Then what of Him who bought thee with His blood? Who plunged into devouring seas And snatched thee from the flood?
Who bore for all our fallen race What none but him could bear-- The God who died that man might live And endless glory share.
Of what avail thy vaunted strength Apart from His vast might? Pray that His light may pierce the gloom That thou mayest see aright.
Men are as bubbles on the wave, As leaves upon the tree, Thou, captain of thy soul! Forsooth, Who gave that place to thee?
Free will is thine--free agency, To wield for right or wrong; But thou must answer unto Him To whom all souls belong.
Bend to the dust that "head unbowed," Small part of life's great whole, And see in Him and Him alone, The captain of thy soul.
["The Soul's Captain," Improvement Era, May 1926, opposite inside front cover]
And who wrote that? Orson F. Whitney of the Council of the Twelve Apostles, a gifted and inspired poet whose work is virtually unknown in the Church. Let me quote another of his poems:
There's a mountain named Stern Justice, Tall and towering, gloomy, grand, Frowning o'er a vale called Mercy, Loveliest in all the land.
Great and mighty is the mountain, But its snowy crags are cold, And in vain the sunlight lingers On the summit proud and bold.
There is warmth within the valley, And I love to wander there, 'Mid the fountains and the flowers, Breathing fragrance on the air.
Much I love the solemn mountain, It doth meet my somber mood, When, amid the muttering thunders, O'er my soul the storm-clouds brood.
But when tears, like rain, have fallen From the fountain of my woe, And my soul has lost its fierceness, Straight unto the vale I go;
Where the landscape, gently smiling, O'er my heart pours healing balm, And, as oil on troubled waters, Brings from out its storm a calm.
Yes, I love both vale and mountain, Ne'er from either would I part; Each unto my life is needful, Both are dear unto my heart.
For the smiling vale doth soften All the rugged steep makes sad, And from icy rocks meander Rills that make the valley glad.
[Orson F. Whitney, "The Mountain and the Vale," The Poetical Writings of Orson F. Whitney (Salt Lake City: Juvenile Instructor Office, 1889), p. 183]
Both of these poems are new to most of you. Why would that be? I think it more than a pity that work such as this remains unknown to most students and faculty--even to some of the faculty in the field of literature. It is sad when members of the faculty here would discard them in favor of assigning their students to read degenerate compositions that issue from the minds of perverted and wicked men.
There is the temptation for college teachers, in the Church and outside of it, to exercise their authority to give assignments and thereby introduce their students to degradation under the argument that it is part of our culture. Teachers in the field of literature are particularly vulnerable.
I use the word warning. Such will not go unnoticed in the eternal scheme of things. Those who convey a degraded heritage to the next generation will reap disappointment by and by.
Teachers would do well to learn the difference between studying some things, as compared to studying about them. There is a great difference.
There is much to be said for a great effort to rediscover the humble and inspired contributions of gifted Saints of the past and thereby inspire the gifted in our day to produce works that will inspire those who come after us.
It is sad but true that, almost as a rule, our most gifted members are drawn to the world. They who are most capable to preserve our cultural heritage and to extend it, because of the enticements of the world, seek rather to replace it. That is so easy to do because for the most part they do not have that intent. They think that what they do is to improve it. Unfortun-ately many of them will live to learn that indeed, "Many men struggle to climb to reach the top of the ladder, only to find that it is leaning against the wrong wall."
I mentioned earlier that the greatest hymns and anthems have not been composed, nor have the greatest illustrations been set down, nor the poems written, nor the paintings finished. When they are produced, who will produce them? Will it be the most talented and the most highly trained among us? I rather think it will not. They will be produced by those who are the most inspired among us. Inspiration can come to those whose talents are barely adequate, and their contribution will be felt for generations; and the Church and kingdom of God will move forward just a little more easily because they have been here.
Some of our most gifted people struggle to produce a work of art, hoping that it will be described by the world as masterpiece! monumental! epic! when in truth the simple, compelling theme of "I Am a Child of God" has moved and will move more souls to salvation than would such a work were they to succeed.
Some years ago I was chairman of a committee of seminary men responsible to produce a filmstrip on Church history. One of the group, Trevor Christensen, remembered that down in Sanpete County was a large canvas roll of paintings. They had been painted by one of his progenitors, C. C. A. Christensen, who traveled through the settlements giving a lecture on Church history as each painting was unrolled and displayed by lamplight. The roll of paintings had been stored away for generations. We sent a truck for them, and I shall not forget the day we unrolled it.
Brother Christensen was not masterful in his painting, but our heritage was there. Some said it was not great art, but what it lacked in technique was more than compensated in feeling. His work has been shown more widely and published more broadly and received more attention than that of a thousand and one others who missed that point.
I do not think Brother Christensen was a great painter, some would say not even a good one. I think his paintings are masterful. Why? Because the simple, reverent feeling he had for his spiritual heritage is captured in them. I do not think it strange that the world would honor a man who could not paint very well.
The ideal, of course, is for one with a gift to train and develop it to the highest possibility, including a sense of spiritual propriety. No artist in the Church who desires unselfishly to extend our heritage need sacrifice his career or an avocation, nor need he neglect his gift as only a hobby. He can meet the world and "best" it, and not be the loser. In the end, what appears to be such sacrifice will have been but a test.
Abraham did not have to kill Isaac, you know. He had to be willing to. Once that was known, that he would sacrifice his only begotten, he was known to be godlike and the blessings poured out upon him.
A few years ago Sister Packer and I were in Washington, D.C., to represent the Church at an awards banquet held in the reception hall of the Department of State. The elegant and stately surroundings, with a priceless collection of antiques and memorabilia, were impressive. Here, for instance, hangs the painting of George Washington by Gilbert Stuart and other priceless works of art. Both the occasion and the setting were ideal to make reference to the spiritual heritage of our country. And what was the program? A large brass section from one of the service bands played at great length, and with deafening volume, music from Jesus Christ, Superstar.
I sat next to a lovely, dignified woman, the wife of an officer of the government. When the crescendo weakened for a moment I was able to ask, by raising my voice a bit, if she was able to hear them all right. Her obvious amusement at the question soon changed to serious disappointment, as she asked in return, "What would Jesus think?"
That is well worth keeping in our minds if we have the talent to compose music or poetry, to illustrate or paint, or sculpt or act, or sing or play or conduct.
What do I think He would think? I think He would rejoice at the playing of militant martial music as men marched to defend a righteous cause. I think that He would think there are times when illustrations should be vigorous, with bold and exciting colors. I think He would chuckle with approval when at times of recreation the music is comical or melodramatic or exciting. Or at times when a carnival air is in order that decorations be bright and flashy, even garish.
I think at times of entertainment He would think it quite in order for poetry that would make one laugh or cry--perhaps both at once. I think that He would think it would be in righteous order on many occasions to perform with great dignity symphonies and operas and ballets. I think that He would think that soloists should develop an extensive repertoire, each number to be performed at a time and in a place that is appropriate.
I would think that He would think there is a place for artwork of every kind--from the scribbled cartoon to the masterpiece in the hand-carved, gold-leaf frame.
But I am sure He would be offended at immodesty and irreverence in music, in art, in poetry, in writing, in sculpture, in dance, or in drama. I know what He would think about music or art or literature or poetry that is purely secular being introduced into our worship services. And how do I know that? Because He has told His servants that. In what ways has He told them? He has told them by either withholding or, on occasions, withdrawing His Spirit when it is done.
I mentioned earlier that I have sometimes struggled without much success to teach sacred things when preceded by music that is secular or uninspired. Let me mention the other side of it.
I have been in places where I felt insecure and unprepared. I have yearned inwardly in great agony for some power to pave the way or loosen my tongue, that an opportunity would not be lost because of my weakness and inadequacy. On more than a few occasions my prayers have been answered by the power of inspired music. I have been lifted above myself and beyond myself when the Spirit of the Lord has poured in upon the meeting, drawn there by beautiful, appropriate music. I stand indebted to the gifted among us who have that unusual sense of spiritual propriety.
Go to, then, you who are gifted; cultivate your gift. Develop it in any of the arts and in every worthy example of them. If you have the ability and the desire, seek a career or employ your talent as an avocation or cultivate it as a hobby. But in all ways bless others with it. Set a standard of excellence. Employ it in the secular sense to every worthy advantage, but never use it profanely. Never express your gift unworthily. Increase our spiritual heritage in music, in art, in literature, in dance, in drama.
When we have done it, our activities will be a standard to the world. And our worship and devotion will remain as unique from the world as the Church is different from the world. Let the use of your gift be an expression of your devotion to Him who has given it to you. We who do not share in it will set a high standard of expectation: "For of him unto whom much is given much is required" (D&C 82:3).
Now, in conclusion, may I remind you what I said at the beginning. My credential to speak does not come from personal mastery of the arts. I repeat my confession. I am not gifted as a musician or as a poet, nor adequate as an artist, nor accomplished in the field of dance, or writing, or drama. I speak on this subject because I have a calling, one that not only permits, but even requires, that we stay close to Him and to His Spirit.
If we know nothing of the arts, we know something of the Spirit. We know that it can be drawn upon meagerly or almost to the consuming of an individual.
In 1832 the Prophet Joseph Smith received a revelation that now stands as section 88 of the Doctrine and Covenants and was designated by the Prophet as "The Olive Leaf." I quote a few verses:
Draw near unto me and I will draw near unto you; seek me diligently and ye shall find me; ask, and ye shall receive; knock, and it shall be opened unto you.
Whatsoever ye ask the Father in my name it shall be given unto you, that is expedient for you;
And if ye ask anything that is not expedient for you, it shall turn unto your condemnation.
Behold, that which you hear is as the voice of one crying in the wilderness--in the wilderness, because you cannot see him--my voice, because my voice is Spirit; my Spirit is truth; truth abideth and hath no end; and if it be in you it shall abound.
And if your eye be single to my glory, your whole bodies shall be filled with light, and there shall be no darkness in you; and that body which is filled with light comprehendeth all things.
Therefore, sanctify yourselves that your minds become single to God, and the days will come that you shall see him; for he will unveil his face unto you, and it shall be in his own time, and in his own way, and according to his own will. [D&C 88:63ˇ68]
The Spirit of the Lord can be present on His terms only. God grant that we may learn, each of us, particularly those who are gifted, how to extend that invitation.
He lives. Of Him I bear witness. Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, the Only Begotten of the Father. Spencer W. Kimball is a prophet of God. We have on our shoulders in this generation the Church and kingdom of God to bear away. God grant that those among us who are the most gifted will devote themselves in order that our task may be easier, I pray, in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.
K. NEWELL DAYLEY
K. Newell Dayley is dean of the BYU College of Fine Arts and Communications. This devotional address was given on 6 March 2001 in the Marriott Center. ©2001 by Brigham Young University. All rights reserved.
How fortunate we are to sing "Our Savior's Love" this morning. Two former members of the faculty, Crawford Gates and Edward Hart, collaborated in its creation. And how wonderful it is to be taught and edified by this superb Men's Choir. To be reminded of the love and mission of Jesus Christ so vividly through music is truly a blessing. The music performed as we entered this facility quietly prepared our minds and hearts to receive this blessing. I am grateful for music and for all of the arts, for they give meaning and richness to life.
A Unique Institution
We are privileged to be associated with Brigham Young University. It was no idle dream that brought Brigham Young Academy into existence 125 years ago. Its founders had a clear vision of its destiny. We are here today because of their courage and sacrifice.
This year the College of Fine Arts and Communications is celebrating another important event: the 75th anniversary of the founding of the College of Fine Arts. The Department of Communications was added to the college about 35 years later. In a number of ways, and on varied occasions, we are honoring those who established a foundation for the arts and communications at BYU. As a special tribute to those faithful founders, I have chosen to speak about centering the arts in Christ.
It is a rare blessing to be associated with an institution that honors the central role of Jesus Christ in this world's destiny. It was faith in Christ that motivated the founders of this institution. And that same faith guided those who established the arts as a core element of our curriculum. They followed the Light that leads all mankind toward things that are "virtuous, lovely, or of good report or praiseworthy" (Articles of Faith 1:13). Most were also responding to the quiet invitation of the Holy Ghost to center the arts in Christ. In Mormon's words:
I judge these things of [them] because of [their] peaceable walk with the children of men.
For I remember the word of God which saith by their works ye shall know them; for if their works be good, then they are good also. [Moroni 7:4–5]
Our Challenge
I offer my profound gratitude to all those faithful, sensitive women and men who loved beauty and truth enough to sacrifice their lives in service at this institution.
It is now our challenge to strengthen and extend their artistic work into the 21st century and beyond. Will we be willing to place Christ at the center of our work?
During the ministry of Jesus in Palestine, there were many who "believed on him; but . . . did not confess him, . . . for they loved the praise of men more than the praise of God" (John 12:42–43). The same challenge exists today. Do we believe in Christ but fail to follow Him because we love the praise of men more than the praise of God? Or are we willing to follow Him but uncertain about what that means? "Behold I am the light," He assured the Nephite faithful. "I have set an example for you" (3 Nephi 18:16). What was that example?
*Christ loved and obeyed His Father (see Matthew 26:39; John 5:19, 30).
*He understood who He really was (see John 10:7–15; 13:3).
*Jesus prayed often and studied the scriptures (see Matthew 14:23; Luke 4:4; 24:27).
*He taught His followers about the Holy Ghost and urged them to seek and heed the Spirit's guidance (see John 14:16–26).
*He invited His followers to consecrate their lives to the work of God through serving others (see Matthew 19:16–26).
*Our Savior encouraged all to repent and to freely forgive others (see Matthew 5–7; 18:21–22; Luke 15:11–32).
*Christ challenged His followers to reach their full potential (see Matthew 13:10–13).
*He openly expressed love, compassion, understanding, and appreciation (see Matthew 9:36; 20:34; 26:6–13).
*He gave His life so others could return to His Father's presence (see John 3:16–17; John 17; 2 Nephi 2:8; Mormon 9:13).
*Jesus ministered personally, getting to know people by walking and working among them (see Matthew 4:23–24; 3 Nephi 18:31).
*He did not condescend to others, even though He was the only perfect mortal (see Luke 19:2–9; John 4:6–42).
*Our Redeemer respected individual agency, taught true principles, encouraged self-governance, and provided an opportunity to account for personal thoughts and actions (see Matthew 10).
*He condemned sin without condemning the sinner and ministered to both the repentant and the unrepentant alike (see John 8:3–11).
*Jesus lifted the downtrodden and gave hope to the discouraged (see John 16:33; 3 Nephi 1:10–13).
*He blessed the sick and cared for the poor (see 3 Nephi 17:7–25; Mark 2 and 5).
If we desire to center the arts in Christ, we will follow His example. He asked the Nephite disciples, "What manner of men ought ye to be?" And He answered His own question ever so simply: "Verily I say unto you, even as I am" (3 Nephi 27:27). More precisely, He said, "I would that ye should be perfect even as I, or your Father who is in heaven is perfect" (3 Nephi 12:48). He invites us to be like Him! Not just to believe in Him, but to be like Him--to acquire, in process of time, His righteous attributes.
If we seek to center the arts in Christ, will our artistic endeavors differ from those of others? If so, in what ways will they differ? How might our efforts also parallel the work of others? For what purposes should followers of Christ use the arts? Must they be willing to depart from some of the world's artistic traditions? If so, will that limit their creative energies or liberate them? Such is the nature of the questions that confront those who would follow Christ.
What Are the Arts?
What are the arts, really? Are they subjects, professions, cultural artifacts, or events to attend? Yes, but that is not what they really are. The arts embody a unique learning process that awakens the very core of one's being to life's meaning and beauty. Through the arts we can learn to see, hear, move, and feel with greater sensitivity and understanding. They provide both substance and stimulus for learning the creative process and nurture our capacity to explore the infinite. The arts enable us to communicate important realities that can be shared in no other way. Elder Boyd K. Packer has affirmed that "because of what [artists] do, we are able to feel and learn very quickly . . . some spiritual things that we would otherwise learn very slowly" (Boyd K. Packer, "The Arts and the Spirit of the Lord," Ensign, August 1976, 61).
We separate the arts, perhaps to better understand them. But learning processes called music, drama, painting, sculpture, dance, poetry, literature, or film are really parts of a greater whole. They encompass an approach to learning and knowing that is unique. The arts must be an essential core component of a balanced education.
The arts are also a marvelous manifestation of "the light of Christ," for
the light which shineth, which giveth you light, is through him who enlighteneth your eyes, which is the same light that quickeneth your understandings;
Which light proceedeth forth from the presence of God to fill the immensity of space--
The light which is in all things, which giveth life to all things. [D&C 88:7, 11–13]
The creative flame that ignites artistic creation has its origin in "the light which is in all things." Christ is the source of the power that is within us whereby we exercise "free will, and bring to pass much righteousness" (D&C 58:27–28). His light gives life to our creative potential. His love impels us to creative action. Art itself appears because there is a spark of the divine nature in God's children.
Those who remove themselves from the Light of Christ through pride or disobedience may use the "form" of art to express themselves, but "they deny the power thereof" (Joseph Smith--History 1:19). Technical skill becomes the substance of their work because they are unable to receive the power that would give it life and meaning. In contrast, those who seek to follow Christ are free to receive the enlightenment and pure joy that flows through art centered in Him. We are "that [we] might have joy" (2 Nephi 2:25). Art centered in Christ immerses us in joy!
There Are Two Ways
There is a difference between art that comes through the Light of Christ and art that comes from the devil and those "who subject themselves unto him" (Moroni 7:17). That difference is not difficult to define. But the devil's enticements can be convincing, even to those who should know better. Christ has warned us
that there are many spirits which are false spirits, which have gone forth in the earth, deceiving the world.
And also Satan hath sought to deceive you, that he might overthrow you. . . .
Behold, . . . there are hypocrites among you, who have deceived some, which has given the adversary power. [D&C 50:2–3, 7]
"Wherefore, take heed," the prophet Mormon adds, "that ye do not judge that which is evil to be of God, or that which is good and of God to be of the devil" (Moroni 7:14).
Ezekiel charged us to "teach . . . the difference between the holy and profane, and cause [people] to discern between the unclean and the clean" (Ezekiel 44:23). It may be instructive to review a few of the contrasts between art that has Christ at the center and forms of art created by deceivers or hypocrites.
Art That Is Centered in Christ
1. "Inviteth and enticeth to do good continually, . . . to love God, and to serve him" (Moroni 7:13).
2. Persuades us "to believe in Christ" (Moroni 7:16).
3. Seeks the welfare of Zion through service motivated by the pure love of Christ (see 2 Nephi 26:29–31).
4. Plants joy in the hearts of those who are seeking to be like Christ (see 2 Nephi 2:25).
5. Is virtuous and full of charity toward all men (see D&C 121:45).
6. Radiates light and is filled with hope (see Moroni 7:48).
7. Is born of meekness and lowliness of heart. The pure love of Christ is its driving force (see Moroni 7:44–47; 8:25–26).
8. Invites "the visitation of the Holy Ghost, which Comforter filleth with hope and perfect love" (Moroni 8:26).
9. Is created by those who, through faith in Christ, "shall have the power to do whatsoever thing is expedient in [Him]" (Moroni 7:33).
10. Is miraculous in its manifestation of beauty and love.
11. Those who create it desire to "come unto Christ, and be perfected in him, and deny [themselves] of all ungodliness; . . . and love God with all [their] might, mind and strength . . . , that by his grace [they] may be perfect in Christ" (Moroni 10:32).
12. Is manifest according to the power of the Holy Ghost (see 2 Nephi 32:2–5).
Forms of Art Created by the Great Deceiver
1. "Inviteth and enticeth to sin, and to do that which is evil continually" (Moroni 7:12).
2. Persuades us "to do evil, and believe not in Christ, and deny him, and serve not God" (Moroni 7:17).
3. Sets the artist up as a light to the world for the purpose of getting "gain and praise of the world" (2 Nephi 26:29).
4. Offends the sensibilities of those who are seeking to be perfected in Christ (see Matthew 16:23).
5. Is profane, corrupt, vulgar, violent, and blasphemous (see Ephesians 4:22, 29; Moses 8:28–30).
6. Is dark and hopeless (see D&C 10:20–21).
7. Is born of pride and selfishness. Money is its driving force (see 2 Nephi 26:29, 31).
8. Is strong in "perversion; and [those who create it] delight in everything save that which is good. . . . They are without principle, and past feeling" (Moroni 9:19–20).
9. Is created by those who walk "in [their] own way, and after the image of [their] own god, whose image is in the likeness of the world, and whose substance is that of an idol" (D&C 1:16).
10. Is made to appear wonderful, even though it embodies darkness and sin.
11. Those who create it "do withdraw [themselves] from the Spirit of the Lord, that it may have no place in [them] to guide [them] in wisdom's paths. [They] cometh out in open rebellion against God; . . . listeth to obey the evil spirit, and becometh an enemy to all righteousness; therefore, the Lord has no place in [them], for he dwelleth not in unholy temples" (Mosiah 2:36–37).
12. Is manifest according to the power of the devil (see Jacob 7:4).
Such are the contrasts that exist between the work of Christ and the work of the deceiver and his followers. There is no middle ground. There is also a simple test. Art that is centered in Christ invites the Holy Ghost to be present during its creation and, again, as it is experienced by others in performance, exhibition, or publication. Satan's counterfeit has no such power (see Moses 1:12–21).
"The Difference Between God and the Devil"
Elder Dallin H. Oaks has provided additional insight:
Our model--our first priority--is Jesus Christ. We must testify of him and teach one another how we can apply his teachings and his example in our lives.
Brigham Young gave us some practical advice on how to do this. "The difference between God and the Devil," he said, "is that God creates and organizes, while the whole study of the Devil is to destroy" (Discourses of Brigham Young, p. 69). . . .
Remember, our Savior, Jesus Christ, always builds us up and never tears us down. We should apply the power of that example in the ways we use our time, including our recreation and diversions. Consider the themes of the books, magazines, movies, television, and music we make popular by our patronage. . . .
The powerful idea in this example is that whatever builds people up serves the cause of the Master, and whatever tears people down serves the cause of the adversary. [Dallin H. Oaks, "Powerful Ideas," Ensign, November 1995, 26–27]
A Personal Remembrance
Allow me to share a personal experience that may help illustrate the power and purpose of artistic experience centered in Christ. Many years ago, unable to sleep because of pressing problems, I sought the boredom of late-night television as a substitute for "counting sheep." Alone in the family room, I tuned to an educational channel just as a rather curious dance production was beginning. It was the story of the prodigal son retold through the music and choreography of Israeli collaborators and performed by an Israeli dance company. I expected this to be the perfect way to fall asleep. How wrong I was!
As the familiar story unfolded through movement and music, the simplicity and power of the production increasingly moved me. Every expression and movement had meaning. The camera's ever-changing focus absolutely held me spellbound. The music touched my heart and filled it with wonder. The movements of the dancers, now transformed into actors, opened the eyes of my understanding. I observed that the Holy Ghost had an overpowering presence in my being. As the story reached the point of the son's return to his father, the son crawled to his father's feet, writhing in the agony of true repentance. At just the right moment, his father lovingly lifted him into his arms and held him in an attitude of total forgiveness. In an instant I felt and understood the reality of the Atonement with such intensity that I wept in both joy and sorrow. It was a powerful and precious experience in my life, an experience made possible through artists who had responded to the Light of Christ in this collaborative creative endeavor.
The Song of the Righteous
The Lord has counseled us to "pray always, and [He] will pour out [His] Spirit upon [us]" (D&C 19:38). He has also affirmed that He delights "in the song of the heart [and that] the song of the righteous is a prayer unto [Him that] shall be answered with a blessing upon [our] heads" (D&C 25:12). We should recognize that because heartfelt singing is similar to heartfelt prayer, the blessing promised the righteous singer is the presence of His Spirit. Singing, whether with the voice or through the aid of a musical instrument, can provide a conduit to spiritual enrichment for those who are seeking with real intent to purify their lives. This promised blessing characterizes the blessing available to the righteous through the arts.
With that idea in mind, let's sing another hymn together. As we do so, sing from and with your heart. Forget about what others around you may think and immerse yourself completely in the text and music. Approach this hymn as you might approach prayer, and allow me to lead you in a somewhat flexible manner. Let's sing verses one, two, and five of "Come, Follow Me" (Hymns, 1985, no. 116).
Those who immersed themselves completely in that hymn just received a wonderful blessing! Heartfelt singing, whether it is done while you are alone or when surrounded by others, can provide a welcome conduit to peace and true joy.
Toward Zion
The Lord revealed a number of things about our day to Nephi. One of them was the following promise: "Blessed are they who shall seek to bring forth my Zion at that day, for they shall have the gift and the power of the Holy Ghost" (1 Nephi 13:37). If we were to labor with all our heart, might, mind, and strength to center the arts in Christ, would we help to bring forth Zion? And would we then enjoy the gift and the power of the Holy Ghost more abundantly? I believe we would. But we must be clear in our understanding. "Zion cannot be built up unless it is by the principles of the law of the celestial kingdom; otherwise [the Lord] cannot receive her unto [Himself]" (D&C 105:5). We must be willing to give up the idols of the world, abide by the principles that characterize celestial life, and follow Christ.
The Lord has admonished us to "keep [His] commandments, and seek to bring forth and establish the cause of Zion" (D&C 6:6; 11:6; 12:6; 14:6). "For Zion must increase in beauty, and in holiness; . . . Zion must arise and put on her beautiful garments" (D&C 82:14). What a wonderful opportunity we have to place the arts in service to the cause of Zion. Is this not real? Is this not the very purpose of the arts? As we participate together in Christ-centered artistic experiences, we will be increasingly bound together in singleness of purpose and a love for that which is good. We will become "of one heart and one mind" (Moses 7:18). Is this not Zion?
But there is a price that must be paid. The arts require diligence, sacrifice, and commitment. We have an example in the scriptures of one who imagined a marvelous outcome when he "took no thought save it was to ask" (D&C 9:7). He failed. We must do more. According to President Spencer W. Kimball, "We must take thought. We must make effort. We must be patient. We must be professional. We must be spiritual" (Spencer W. Kimball, "The Second Century of Brigham Young University," Speeches of the Year, 1975 [Provo: Brigham Young University Press, 1976], 253). And Elder Packer reminds us that our motives must also be considered: "There is a test you might apply if you are among the gifted. Ask yourself this question: When I am free to do what I really want to do, what will it be?" (Packer, "The Arts and the Spirit," 63). Will those who seek to serve the cause of Zion work in accordance with "the Spirit of truth or some other way? . . . If it be by some other way," we have been warned, "it is not of God" (D&C 50:17–18).
Many Ways to Contribute
There are many kinds of artistic work that can contribute to the building of Zion. We must not constrict or limit our vision in this matter. And there will perhaps always be conflicting issues of personal taste and artistic understanding. Elder Packer offers a point of view that is very insightful and helpful:
I think [Jesus] would rejoice at the playing of militant martial music as men marched to defend a righteous cause. I think that He would think there are times when illustrations should be vigorous, with bold and exciting colors. I think He would chuckle with approval when at times of recreation the music is comical or melodramatic or exciting. Or at times when a carnival air is in order that decorations be bright and flashy, even garish.
I think at times of entertainment He would think it quite in order for poetry that would make one laugh or cry--perhaps both at once. I think that He would think it would be in righteous order on many occasions to perform with great dignity symphonies and operas and ballets. I think that He would think that soloists should develop an extensive repertoire, each number to be performed at a time and in a place that is appropriate. . . .
But I am sure He would be offended at immodesty and irreverence in music, in art, in poetry, in writing, in sculpture, in dance, or in drama. [Packer, "The Arts and the Spirit," 65]
What shall we do then? How can we know what is appropriate and useful to the cause of Zion? Nephi gave us an answer that is as precise as it is challenging:
I suppose that ye ponder somewhat in your hearts concerning that which ye should do after ye have entered in by the way. . . .
Do ye not remember that I said unto you that after ye had received the Holy Ghost ye could speak [and, I might appropriately interject, "create" or "perform"] with the tongue of angels? And . . . how could ye speak with the tongue of angels save it were by the Holy Ghost?
Angels speak by the power of the Holy Ghost; wherefore, they speak the words of Christ. Wherefore, . . . feast upon the words of Christ; for behold, the words of Christ will tell you all things what ye should do. . . .
. . . If ye will enter in by the way, and receive the Holy Ghost, it will show unto you all things what ye should do.
Behold, this is the doctrine of Christ. [2 Nephi 32:1–6]
Finally, Elder Packer has extended a challenge that applies to many of us here today:
Go to, then, you who are gifted; cultivate your gift. Develop it in any of the arts and in every worthy example of them. If you have the ability and the desire, seek a career or employ your talent as an avocation or cultivate it as a hobby. But in all ways bless others with it. Set a standard of excellence. Employ it in the secular sense to every worthy advantage, but never use it profanely. Never express your gift unworthily. [Packer, "The Arts and the Spirit," 65]
I wish to conclude this message with the words of the prophet Moroni. He was a man centered in Christ who understood perfectly the necessity of our conversion and transformation. Join with me in pondering his words and the process they describe:
Yea, come unto Christ, and be perfected in him, and deny yourselves of all ungodliness; and if ye shall deny yourselves of all ungodliness, and love God with all your might, mind and strength, then is his grace sufficient for you, that by his grace ye may be perfect in Christ; and if by the grace of God ye are perfect in Christ, ye can in nowise deny the power of God.
And again, if ye by the grace of God are perfect in Christ, and deny not his power, then are ye sanctified in Christ by the grace of God, through the shedding of the blood of Christ, which is in the covenant of the Father unto the remission of your sins, that ye become holy, without spot. [Moroni 10:32–33]
I pray that we will not deny ourselves access to the power of Christ as we seek learning and edification through the arts. Rather, I hope for the day when all we do will be centered in Christ, that we might then enjoy the spiritual abundance He has promised those who are obedient and faithful.
I am grateful for the love of our Father in Heaven and His Beloved Son, Jesus Christ, and for the peace and creative energy They extend to us through the sanctifying power of the Holy Ghost. I testify of Their presence and concern for each of us, in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.
Orson Scott Card
It’s good to be home again. I do a lot of speaking, but its usually to non-LDS audiences, usually to people whose main interest is art alone, and to them I can’t talk freely about half of what’s most important to me. Yet when I speak to Latter-day Saints, while I can talk about gospel doctrine, I usually can’t talk about the artistic things I care about. So today is a singular opportunity for me to be able to talk to people who are living in both streams of life that matter to me.
It’s also good to be home in the Harris Fine Arts Center. I remember very well hanging out here as a theatre student in the late sixties. We were the obnoxious group sitting around the statue of Massassoit or down at the entrance to the Nelke Experimental Theatre singing folk songs together and playing the guitar far more loudly than the faculty enjoyed. We were very aware in those days that outside BYU, students were rebelling against authority, dreaming of changing the world. We at BYU of course did not rebel; those who did, did not remain at BYU. But we did dream of being revolutionaries of another kind.
I remember very well that Dr. Charles Whitman, who taught playwriting then and still teaches here now, inspired many of us theatre students with a vision of Mormon theatre, of art created for Latter-day Saint audiences. But he wasn’t the only one talking about it at the time. I roomed with four painters for a while, I had good friends in music and dance, and we were all talking about Mormon art. It was in the air then. We breathed it deep; we dreamed it. And some of us went on and lived it.
Sometimes we spoke of an even more daring dream, that what we did as Mormon artists could also be taken outside the Mormon community and change the world. Some of us lived that dream too. Maybe the world has changed only a little, but we are changing it.
When I talk to other writers about the world, I will confess that a good many of them look at me rather strangely. We just write stories, they say. All we want is to get into the New Yorker. All we want is to create a little truth and beauty. Were not trying to change the world.
Everyone knows that artists don’t change the world; they just get reviewed, right? Presidents, generals, lawyers, corporate CEOs. . . they change the world; artists just decorate it, right?
Wrong. We who learn to create artworks and share them with the audience, we invent the world. We put visions and music and stories into people’s memories. Even when the audience for our works is small, they have received a priceless gift, for there is a place in their memories where, because of our work, all the people in that audience are the same.
Sharing the shaped reality of art is the closest we come in this world to truly knowing what is inside another person’s heart and mind. For a moment, as an audience, as a community, we are one.
It’s no coincidence that so much of Christ’s labor in this life was devoted to creating works of art. His great Atonement and Sacrifice was and is an eternal act that transcends any mortal analogy. But of his other more temporal works, which remain? The Church he founded eventually failed him. His doctrines were distorted, forgotten, and lost. His followers were slain. The people he healed eventually died. But his stories, those deceptively simple parables, persisted. Where doctrines consisting of language can be and usually are reinterpreted into convenient new meanings, stories consisting of the causal relationships between events are very hard to reinterpret without the audience noticing and crying “foul”.
We all know that the Saviors declaration “upon this rock will I build my Church” can mean different things to different people. But if I tell you that the so-called Good Samaritan was really a clever businessman who acted as he did so as to impress the innkeeper, in order to get a purchasing contract with him later, and if I tell you that Christ’s message was that you must do good P.R. in order to succeed in business, you I’m lying. Clear, simple stories persist unchanged, where doctrines can be changed an have been changed constantly.
Among all else that He was and is, Christ was and is a creator, an artist, a shaper. And the stories that he told, though they were only heard by a few thousand people in a troublesome backwater on the edge of a desert (sound familiar?) have become part of the collective memory of billions of people. When Christ said, “I am the way,” when he said, “Come, follow me,” he was speaking as much to artists as to any other people.
Its really tempting for us as artists to start thinking that were different from everybody else. Now, in some ways, were to be different there’s no way around it. We usually don’t go off to a shop or an office to work. Were always home, and we look to other people like were unemployed. (Especially, I must tell you, that’s how we look to bankers.) We have no bosses, no one assigned us our subjects without our consent. Our salaries are not weekly or monthly. (This is also not too impressive to bankers.) We get paid the way Death Valley gets rain. And then, completely unpredictably, our audience can suddenly balloon, and then our income resembles the rainfall in Amazonia - but we never know what made the difference.
We can’t always produce on demand. Our work can surprise us. Nothing goes according to plan; nothing is predictable. We devote ourselves to strange disciplines. We see the world through different eyes. Without meaning to, we startle others with practically everything we say.
Yet didn’t the Savior also step outside the normal career track and live, as most of us do or will, from the generosity of people who love our words and our works? Our differences from ordinary people, our arts, should bring us closer to the Savior’s way. Yet a disturbing number of LDS artists let their pursuit of art pull them away from the Lord and from the Church.
The Church is the community created by the Lord more specifically, created by the Latter-day Saints under the authority of God. It is the tool we use to serve each other, To bring the gospel to the world, and receive the Lords guidance in our lives.
I remember when I worked in the Church office building as associate editor of the Ensign magazine, there were days, more of them than I am proud, of when I thought, “I do church work every day of my life. Can’t I have a day of rest on Sunday?” This rationalization became my excuse for not taking part in my ward in any meaningful way. I have since learned my mistake. The Church office building is not the Church. For every person there, as for every other Latter-day Saint, the Church is your ward or branch. And our identity within it is our calling, which we faithfully fulfill. No one is exempt from this, and thank God for that. For no one is ever so wise or talented or important that he no longer needs to both give and gain through humble and faithful Church service.
Yet I have known too many LDS artists who feel because they’re artists, they need not walk on that straight and narrow road given to all the Saints. Instead they choose to walk on those broad roads leading to self-destruction. What they don’t realize is that when they make those choices, they’re not choosing art and rejecting religion they’re rejecting both their religion and their art.
Let me warn you today because of course that’s what you hoped for when you came, that you’d hear someone sermonize, but that’s what I’m here for whether you knew it or not let me warn you today of seven temptations which many of you are already succumbing to, seven roads leading down to river of filthy water seen by Nephi and Lehi. And then I’ll have a few words to say about the inhabitants of at least one floor of the great and spacious building.
The road, of course, is a metaphor. Your journey is through time, not space. Your choice then is not made with the feet but with the heart. To choose a road is to give your allegiance, take upon yourself an identity and system of values, a way of seeing your life in your work.
The First Road: Allegiance To, or Rebellion Against, Dead Artists or Dead Art
The first road is allegiance to, or rebellion against, dead artists or dead art. I like to joke that there are two reasons to get into art. The one reason is when you say, “Oh. I hope that someday I can do something that good.” The other one is, “If that can get published or performed or shown, I can be an artist.”
The first motive often leads the star-struck young artist to over-imitative work. The second can be just as deadly if it leads you to devote your career to reacting against work you disapprove of. Frankly though, I prefer the second motive, in part because it was my own.
Of course, you pay attention to artists of the past; it would be absurd to become so obsessed with originality that you failed to learn from both the achievements and the mistakes of your predecessors. Dead artists will teach you techniques. They will give you tools. They will inspire you with possibilities. They will warn you away from dead ends. But you must not allow their dead hands to define the boundaries of your work.
If you study art you’re only half prepared to be an artist; you must also study life. And to know and understand life, you must take part in it. It’s called mimesis: It is reality, and your relationship to it, that will teach you what your art should be.
When I was a theatre student, I resented all of the general education classes that took me away from my theatre work. They were a complete waste of time; I knew what I was going to do with my life, and my theatre work was what was preparing me for my future. Now, although I did learn much of value from my theatre studies, what I use the most, what is most important in my work, is the study and reading and experience that I’ve had outside my discipline. Technique is one thing. I have to also have something to write about. If you study only the works of artists, you may learn how to speak, but you’ll have nothing to say.
The Second Road: Allegiance to Your Own Career
The second road is allegiance to your own career. This is what the temptation sounds like: “If I can just get that NEA Grant, they’ll have to take me seriously.” Or, “You can’t do that in this piece. The critic from The Times will be there, and he hates that.” Or, “Don’t tell your best friend about the party he’s so naive. He’d never make a good impression on all those gallery owners anyway.”
The early Bolsheviks in Russia considered careerism to be one of the worst charges they could level against a fellow revolutionary. A careerist is a person who acted not to advance the Revolution but to advance himself to a more prominent or powerful role within the Revolution and they were right. It was that careerist, Stalin, who transformed a brutal revolution into a monstrous one, and it was when the Soviet nomenclature came to consist of nothing but careerists that Communism lost its last vestige of a claim to being a people’s movement.
For a Latter-day Saint, careerism is always a mistake, and not just in the arts. What do you think David O. McKay was saying when he said, “No other success can compensate for failure in the home?” But for an LDS artist, it is even more important to avoid careerism, for careerism is what leads the artist to make cynical choices in order to go for the prize or the grant or the award or the good review. If your allegiance is to your career, you will sacrifice not only your religion but also your art in order to win these emblems of worldly success.
Now, I have received some of those emblems, because they are bestowed somewhat by chance. I can tell you by experience that, while they’re nice, they are worthless compared to the non-career rewards. Let me tell you about some of those. On my mission, during my free time, I wrote a play called Stone Tables about the relationship between Moses, Aaron, and Miriam. (When my mission president discovered that I had some free time he wasn’t thrilled; but since it was a religious work, he forgave me). When I was half done with it, I sent it off to Charles Whitman, who discovered something that I had never suspected – that it was a musical – and got my good friend Robert Stoddard, who had collaborated with me on another work, to write music for it. It was performed here at BYU before I came home from my mission, and was received reasonably well at that time.
When I came home from my mission, a very dear friend of mine came to me and said, “No one else knows this, but when Stone Tables came on I was having real problems with the Church, with the gospel, with what any of it meant to me – family problems too, problems of my own – but I heard about this play and I started listening outside the doors of the Pardoe Theatre to rehearsals, and when it opened I came to every performance. When I didn’t have the money to go in I sat downstairs and listened in the Green Room. If they wouldn’t let me in there I hung around where I could hear it. I listened to it over and over again, and it was through that that I discovered what the Church meant to me again.”
That was worth a lot more than winning a Hugo or a Nebula, I’ll tell you. Its the letters I get, not often but sometimes, from teachers or parents talking about a kid or student who never used to read until he picked up one of my books, and now he’s an avid reader. The highest praise I ever received came from a librarian at Farrer Junior High, here in Provo, who said, “Mr. Card, I have to tell you, Ender’s Game is our most lost book.”
Those moments come to every sincere artist who is trying to tell the truth. But if you despise those rewards and seek the others, you’re lost, because the other rewards are worthless. The world does not reward you for goodness, but good people do.
The Third Road: Allegiance to Money
The third road is allegiance to money. Here’s what the temptation sounds like: “You’ve got to have a chase scene.” Here’s one I actually heard from several people not long ago: “We’ve got to change the protagonist to be sixteen years old instead of eleven; we’ve got to get the teen audience.” I love that one. Or, “I can’t sell this piece, but if you do more of those landscapes out of horizontal lines, I can sell millions of those.”
Pursuing money is not the same thing as careerism. The careerist aspires to prestige, the honors of men. The greedy artist compromises to get a buck.
Now, I don’t mean that artist’s shouldn’t earn money at their art; the laborer is worthy of his hire. All people are expected to provide for their own needs and the needs of their families. Starving as an artist isn’t a virtue, just a fact of life.
There are reasonable compromises and destructive ones. If you put off doing the project dearest to your heart in order to complete a less dear but still worthy project that will put bread on the table, that is not selling out; that is being a grownup, especially if you have a family. When you fulfill the decent requirements set by the person who commissioned a work of art, that’s not selling out; that’s giving fair value. But when you produce art that you are or should be ashamed of because you think it will make you more bucks that way, then you are a prostitute.
And here’s the ironic part. Not very far along that wide road it drops off into an abyss, because you soon forget how to tell the difference between good work and money work. Soon enough the audience will recognize your cynicism and desert you. While those artists who don’t compromise may spend years of sacrifice, yet still, eventually, if they really are good at their art, some decent money at least will usually come – or at least enough honor from good people that all the sacrifice will be justified.
Remember, though, that you are able to judge only your own decisions along this line. It’s too easy to assume that anyone who makes money must have sold out. It’s the cheap judgment. What looks like greed in someone else may not be greed at all. For instance, I used the word “abyss” a moment ago, hoping for the reaction that heard – a little murmur here and there. I wrote a novel adaptation of Jim Cameron’s movie, The Abyss. Many people have assumed, because I wrote that novelization, that I must have sold out. What they don’t realize is not everything that comes from or is associated with the movies makes money. The usual payment for a movie novelization is pathetic. That’s why novelizations are almost always done by new artists.
I made a good deal less money – and knew from the beginning that I would make less doing that book than doing a book of my own. Furthermore, it took twice as long and was much harder to do. But I did it because Jim Cameron, the author and director of the film, and I both wanted to see if it could be done, if a good novel could be adapted from a film as so many good films have been adapted from good novels. We think we succeeded, though it took extraordinary effort on both our parts.
But it’s worth knowing, I think, that what looks like selling out isn’t always. Sometimes it’s a sacrifice for the sake of some kind of weird artistic experiment. As to whether it succeeded or not, or was worth attempting well – you’re free to have your own opinion, as I have mine.
The Fourth Road: Elitism
The fourth road is elitism. Here is what the temptation sounds like: “Oh, I didn’t expect you to understand my art.” Or, “Did you get my reference to Jackson Pollack? Yes, down here in the right-hand comer.” Or, “I could always work with traditional melody and instrumentation, but that stopped interesting me in high school.”
In literature, it began with T.S. Eliot self-consciously writing poetry that was designed not to be understood except by the elite handful of people who had read all of the same books as Eliot and his friends. It was continued by James Joyce, who wrote great works whose primary pleasure came not from the experience of the story but from the decoding of the language. The untrained audience was deliberately excluded, and that was one of the primary pleasures of reading it – knowing that no one else on your block was fit to appreciate it.
The same thing happened around the same time in every other art, and prevailed in most of them. Non-representational visual art’s and non-melodic and dis-harmonic music discarded the very reasons why most of the audience throughout the history of the human race had ever valued those arts.
Because the practitioners of the new elitism were able to come up with convincing critical stories, enough critics, dealers, buyers, and institutions that went along with the elitists were also able to make money. That didn’t happen with the extremely expensive collaborative arts of film and theatre, and therefore they have not become dominated by the elitist viewpoint – though the elitist viewpoint does thrive.
In other art’s, however, elitism’s triumph is almost complete. Serious poets have taught the American public to detest poetry, so that now poetry is usually published in magazines read only by other poets who are trying to figure out how to get published. This is a tragedy, because the people have been cut off from many of the best artists, and many of the best artists have been cut off from the audience they really want to be speaking to.
But the people do still hunger for those arts, and, if the serious artists won’t give it to them, they’ll get those arts somewhere else. For instance, book covers, record jackets, calendars, prints of wildlife art are satisfying their hunger for visual arts. The public is very careful, very discriminating in their tastes. Without any official critical guidance, the public chooses the best – but they define the best by standards of their own.
The hunger for poetry and music is now satisfied through the American popular song, which, by the way, we sell a lot more of to the rest of the world than we ever do of our serious work. And there is more variety within that popular song tradition today than in the world of so-called “serious” poetry and music. And there’s a public with more emotional involvement and hype-proof critical judgment than within the worlds of “serious” poetry and music.
You may see a lot of hype, a lot of advertising, in popular music, but the public is virtually immune to it, ignoring many well-hyped artists while seeking out and discovering many who are hardly hyped at all. That almost never happens in the world of serious art. The hype must be there for the “serious” artist to thrive.
Now, I don’t say that these serious arts are intrinsically bad. Every artist has a right to find an audience for whatever art he believes in and cares about. And every audience has a right to its art. The place where I argue with the elitists is their elitism, not what they do in their art. I dispute their claim that serious art is the only art worth paying attention to, or even worth doing in the first place. I rebel against their snobbery, for their attitude is poisoning us all.
The elitists have managed to persuade even the people who hate their art that their art is in some sense better. Students learn that if a book or poem is “good” they’ll hate it, and if they like a book or poem it must be trash – the teacher says so. And then people wonder why Americans don’t read.
Worst of all, whole generations of artists are made to feel like failures or dropouts if they decide to create art for a wider audience than a handful of over-trained professionals. Many who might have stirred millions with their music or their art instead devote all their talents to pleasing an audience so jaded that the art will never have the power to win their love; the best it can win is their admiration. For where the untrained audience is always open to being transformed, the elitist audience is willing only to be impressed.
And the elitists know it. Their envy of popular art is palpable. Why else do they devote so much effort to sneering at the “mindless” mass audience and the “hacks” who try to please them? But I tell you that there is no higher percentage of talentless, cynical, careerist, greedy hacks among popular artists than among so-called serious artists.
And where do the elitists get off calling themselves “serious artists” in the first place? Do they think the rest of us are kidding? The true name of popular art is democratic art – art that speaks to the people, while the elitists speak to each other. They’re free to do so, but they are not free that the elitist audience is the only one worth pleasing.
Quite the contrary. The elitist audience is the least important audience because it is the one least open to genuinely new voices. In the world of democratic art, change and innovation are constant, through a process of perpetual dialog with a passionate audience. In the elitist world, techniques first used in 1920 are still called “modern” and “experimental.” It’s a closed shop. Conform or die.
Just remember, please, that Christ did not preach to the Pharisees; he preached to the common people. To a Latter-day Saint artist, enough said.
The Fifth Road: Allegiance To Mysticism
The fifth road is allegiance to mysticism. Some people think that the ability to create art is somehow magical, a gift of the muses. They not only treat old works of art with awe, many also treat their own works with the same mystical respect.
“I don’t know why I did it that way it just came to me.” This attitude would be harmless enough if it didn’t seduce so many artists into thinking that they themselves are some kind of bodhisattva, an incarnation of the gods of art. Too many artists think that as artists, they are so precious and special that ordinary rules just don’t apply to them. If an ordinary man abandons his family or verbally abuses his children, he’s scum. But if an artist does it, he “needs his space.” If an ordinary man takes drugs or drinks himself into oblivion, he’s an addict or an alcoholic. If an artist does it, he’s “tormented.”
In defense of this view, people point to artists like Faulkner or Hemingway or Fitzgerald and say, “Look, he’s a genius and see how he drank. See how he was eventually destroyed, or driven to suicide.” What people often forget is that it is far more likely that Faulkner created his finest work in spite of his alcoholism; that it was the responsible, adult side of him that created his art, in constant battle with the self-destructive temptations of the flesh. It was not the creative part of Hemingway that pulled the trigger. Who can guess how much better their art might have been if they had mastered the flesh? The laws of God are natural laws, and artists are no more immune to the consequences of weakness, fear, or evil than to the law of gravity. The Lord and the law are no respecters of persons – artists are not and cannot be a special case.
Artists have no mystical connection with the divine, except the one that is available to every living soul, the one that was given to us through the atonement of Christ and the witness of the other Comforter.
The Sixth Road: Allegiance to Style over Substance
The sixth wide road is allegiance to style over substance. I recently was talking with a young graduate student in an MFA writing program at the University of North Carolina at Greensboro, who actually said to me (and I looked very closely to see if he was joking because I couldn’t believe he was saying it, but in fact he meant it with his whole soul), “I wish more people understood that what matters most is getting a good style. Why work on what the story’s about until you’ve learned how to write well?”
That’s the attitude that has given us so much stylish, empty art in recent decades. It is all-pervasive in the artistic community. Many people were recently appalled when an art critic testified that a photograph of a man urinating into another mans mouth should be received only as a “study of light and shadow.” Both the audience and the artist are insulted by such a claim. Light and shadow might have been part of the photographer’s technique, but he at least, was not such a fool as to imagine that his subject matter was not important to his art. By making perversion fascinating and aesthetically pleasing, and by putting into the audiences memory an experience few of them would ever have conceived of without disgust, he was changing the world. The substance was what mattered to him. Remember that. Learn it from Maplethorpe if from no one else. Art only has power to change the world when it is about something.
Your technique will never be perfect. Never. But if your message is powerful, and true, then your technique only has to be good enough, and your stylistic flaws will be forgiven. On the other hand, no matter how lovely your style, if your work has no substance, no subject matter that matters in the real world, you deserve to be forgotten, and I promise that you will be.
The Seventh Road: Perpetual Adolescence
The seventh road is perpetual adolescence. This is what the temptation sounds like: “This will make those Relief Society ladies drop their teeth.” It’s what I call the “aha syndrome” among naive young LDS historians. When they first find something in their research they didn’t read about in Sunday School they crow, “Aha!” and they rush about telling everyone that they’ve discovered the truth about Mormonism. And if you point out the flaws in their reasoning, then you obviously aren’t ready yet to “face the truth.”
It’s the same adolescent desire to shock, the one that makes you do things that drive your parents crazy, for no other reason than to drive your parents crazy. We’ve all done those things. It’s part of being an adolescent. It’s part of separating yourself from the community that you grew up in, so you can find your own identity. But you’re supposed to grow out of it.
You’re supposed to spend your adolescence in a situation where the world is negotiable and your identity is in flux, until you discover who you’re supposed to be. At that point you’re supposed to become a grown-up.
A grown-up is a person who voluntarily commits himself to a community and makes a commitment that he will never break. That’s the commitment you make when you marry and have children. Many do break it, but they shouldn’t be proud of it. It’s the commitment you make when you join the Church. Many of us do it young, of course, and so we have to make the commitment all over again when we’re older. But the commitment must be there or you are not adult.
That commitment means that when you find a problem, you don’t stab the audience with it and gleefully rub salt in the wound while they howl. Instead you study it carefully and present what you’ve learned in a way that will hurt as little as possible – or, best yet, in a way that will affirm and strengthen the community.
The fact of the matter is that if you tell the truth, some of your audience will always be shocked anyway; you don’t have to try to soup it up. In fact, you have to labor in the opposite direction: to soften the blow, not just to help the community, but also to help keep your audience open to your voice. You must lead gently, must offer milk before meat.
Christ’s doctrine was hard, rigorous, shocking; but he taught with gentleness, meekness, and love, in the language of the people, according to their understanding.
Those are the seven wide roads that I’ve seen lead to the destruction of Latter-day Saint artists. And now we come to the great and spacious building beside the river, to one particular floor of that building, where you find the artistic/critical/academic establishment – the so-called arts community. There are exceptions among those who belong to that community, but in general, it’s members will labor to entice you down all seven of those roads leading to destruction of you and your art.
They encourage you to imitate dead artists, or at least to study them seriously, in part because they’ve already tamed those artists. They already have stories to account for everything they did. These much-studied artists are domesticated, and they can’t argue against stupid critical theories about their work because they’re dead. And if the arts community can get you to believe their stories about the dead artists and then imitate them, then they’ve tamed you, too.
They encourage careerism because, of course, they’re the ones passing out the honors. If you live and die for their prizes, you will be utterly dependent on them; you are much more likely to conform to their idea of what is art.
They talk as if they despise money, and they accuse anyone who makes money of selling out. Yet money is what they love most and what most impresses them. I can only tell you my personal experience. (Actually, I can tell you other people’s experiences too, but I only tell you my personal experience.)
Science fiction, of course, is not taken seriously in the world of letters and serious literature. But you would be amazed at how my reception in those circles has improved since I’ve had some books that hit best-seller lists, and since I’ve received some awards. I am no better writer, I don’t think, than I was before, but it’s amazing how much respect you receive, even from people who officially despise your art, if you’ve made some money at it. Don’t believe their pretense. You’ll wow them if you make the bucks.
Elitism is their lifeblood. They will try to persuade you that the worst elitist art is intrinsically better than the best democratic art. They want to believe this because it’s very comforting to them. You see, by this theory they don’t actually have to be any good. They only have to belong to the club, and automatically their work will be taken seriously. All these naked emperors, vaguely aware that the others have no clothes on, but quite convinced that they themselves are gloriously attired.
They encourage artist worship, because it means that they can live as parasites in the gut of society without making the slightest effort to produce anything useful – or even to refrain from doing harm. Art is their blank check, because artists are “special”.
They thrive on superficiality. It means that they don’t even have to reach for wisdom; they only need to echo received opinion with flair.
They encourage perpetual adolescence and glorify it in their work; that’s why we have these endless fictions about people “breaking free” of their “limiting” family life or their “limiting” job – in other words, fiction that glorifies people who abandon those who need them and count on them, those to whom they’ve made commitments. I wish I had a dime for every book like that that’s going to be published this year. Why does the arts community hunger so much for this story? Because it allows them to excuse themselves for behavior that in non-artists would be despicable.
The arts community is eager to convince you to join them, especially if you have talent, because, unconsciously at least, they know they’re empty as a society. If you join them, if you with your talent join them, it validates them. They’ll try to convince you that it’s you who’s getting validated, but it’s not – it’s them.
And if you reject them, it stings them to the heart. Like hurt children, they seek to enforce conformity with ridicule and laughter and scorn – just like the people on every other floor of the great and spacious building. And if you let them make you ashamed, you will end up following one of those broad roads. Your gifts will end up being wasted, lost in a river of dirt.
And I must warn you, if you haven’t already noticed it, that the arts community is not just “out there” in “the world” it’s also in here, inside the LDS community. Again, I do not speak of All LDS artists – by no means. But the people who consider themselves to be part of the LDS arts community draw their primary values from the world, not from the Church. They will ridicule you if you try to create art for the Saints. They will honor you only if your work is elitist, shocking, anti-democratic. They start from the assumption that if the common people love it, it must be lousy.
Often they are superficially right: The common people love it and it’s lousy. But the people don’t love it because it’s lousy, and they don’t hate the elitist stuff because it’s good. They love the lousy stuff because at least it’s speaking to them. They’d love better works if only the artists would offer them.
Let me give you a quick example.
Shirley Sealey. How many of you know her name? Ah, the hands rise, mostly women – that’s one of those fact’s of life in the world of books. You may not know that along about the middle of the 1970s, Mormon fiction did not exist for the Mormon public at large. There were Mormon novels, but by and large they were aimed at a non-Mormon audience, and often they were attack fiction, designed to show you exactly why Mormon society is corrupt, evil, terrible, awful, and foolish. There were exceptions – I think of Don Marshall’s Rummage Sale as an excellent exception to that, and it was also a popular book. But Mormon fiction did not exist as a legitimate publishing category. Deseret Book and Bookcraft were sure that Mormon fiction wouldn’t sell – so, of course, they published almost none of it.
Then Shirley Sealey came along with a book that, I must confess, I could not get more than 20 pages into. But that’s a matter of personal taste. The book was clearly not written for me – I was not part of it’s natural audience. Many other Saints, however, were.
No one knew that in advance, however. None of the major publishers in the LDS market would touch it – they knew that fiction didn’t sell, and I suspect none of the editors particularly enjoyed the book. It was a sure thing that none of the New York publishers would touch it.
But Sealey overcame that seemingly insuperable barrier, with the help of some good people who believed in her art, who believed that there was an audience eager for positive Mormon fiction. It was published by the Seventy’s Mission Bookstore, and to everyone’s surprise it sold like crazy. Whatever else you may think of it, Shirley Sealey’s first novel created Mormon fiction as a viable commercial category. Her book made it possible for Latter-day Saints to go into a bookstore and find a wide variety of books by many authors – more all the time.
Yet when Beyond This Moment was first having it’s phenomenal success, many people reached an absurd conclusion – that because the first Mormon fiction to sell well was not very well written, you had to write badly in order to sell to the Mormon audience.
That wasn’t the truth at all. The lesson they should have learned was that the audience was so hungry for fiction that they were willing to forgive flaws of technique in order to get fiction that spoke to them as believing, committed Later-day Saints. Yet the same publishers who once were so sure that Mormon fiction wouldn’t sell are now just as sure – with just as little evidence – that the only Mormon fiction that can sell is the same kind of so-called “women’s book.” There seems to be no master key to open all the doors in the house of art. You may open one door, but you’ll still have to struggle to open the next.
I have put my money where my mouth is. I’ve made an expensive bet that there’s an audience hungry for entertaining, affectionate, insider LDS fiction that nevertheless has very sharp teeth. I published a book called Paradise Vue by Kathryn H Kidd, a book that I think achieves my goal of creating a sort of Jane Austen for the Mormon audience. This is a novel that would never have been published by the major LDS houses, because it shows too many of the warts and foibles of the LDS community, the way Jane Austen and Mark Twain and Charles Dickens did with their people. It also would never have been published by one of the houses that goes for fiction that either attacks Mormon culture or sneers at it, because it’s so positive toward LDS people and values and doctrine.
The response that we’ve been getting to that book tells me that I was right, that once again there was a kind of fiction that the audience was hungry for but nobody was giving it to him. The response we’re getting from readers is: “Finally, a Mormon novel I’m really glad I read.” Now, obviously, there are people who are perfectly happy with the Mormon novels that are already out there – but then, I didn’t mean to start a publishing company to produce anything for them; their needs were being met. The point I’m trying to make is that when the people are hungry, satisfying them does not mean you have to create bad art. It merely means you have to create good art that they know is directed to them – art that they can understand, believe in, and care about. And they do notice the difference. They are very, very discerning. Anyone who ever tells you that the mass audience only wants trash is speaking, not from an ivory tower, but from a window in another kind of structure.
How, then, do you avoid the pervasive influence of the great and spacious building, both inside and outside of the Church? How, as an artist, do you remain immune from that influence?
First it takes toughness; you have to be strong.
Second, you must remember, don’t be ashamed of Christ. If, in your heart, you know you truly serve and follow him, then you will be comforted in spite of whatever ridicule and criticism comes your way.
Third, get a life. And I mean get a life in the ward among ordinary, common Latter-day Saints. Be friends, true friends, with non-artists. They will love you for much more important things than talent. They will be your friends even if you fail. And if you create your art with those non-artist friends in mind, they will teach you how to speak to the largest possible audience that receive your uncompromising truth Furthermore, they will teach you what real life is, so that your work won’t always have to be about art or artists.
Let me offer you a slightly outrageous suggestion. To practice Mormon art, or to be a Mormon artist who keeps his or her soul, I suggest leaving Utah if possible. I’ve done art both in and out, and I’ll tell you, it’s easier to create good art outside. It’s easier when you go to where LDS artists are rarer. I even went to a place where artists are rare, period. Greensboro, North Carolina, is not, I assure you, a mecca of fiction writing.
As a Latter-day Saint, it’s good to live in a place where wards are more all-inclusive. In Utah, wards tend to be your neighborhood, with practically everybody in the same economic stratum. If you go somewhere else, you’re likely to find a ward that will include rich and poor, white-collar and blue-collar people in every ward. Believe me, the Church is healthier that way.
Most important to you as an artist, you need to go to a place where wards are hungrier for any Saint who will fulfill a calling. When I lived in Orem, Utah, the ward leaders could never figure out what to do with me. The only calling I ever got, after waiting for months without one, was teaching the nine-year-old primary class. I loved that calling, but I only got it because I begged for it – they offered it to my wife, who already had several callings!
The kids were great, and I still remember that as one of my best experiences in a Church calling. But the point is that until I begged for that calling, nobody could figure out what to de with me.
In Utah, you see, there are so many Mormons that most wards feel they can simply ignore the ones that are too strange. (It was 1980 and I was also a Democrat; that was a complicating factor.) But let me tell you, in Greensboro, North Carolina, and before that when we lived in South Bend, Indiana, they had callings for me. Why? Because where Mormons who will faithfully fulfill a calling are more rare, where wards include all kinds of people, you start judging people by different standards – better ones, I think, standards that are more in harmony with the gospel. Outside of the Mormon corridor, no faithful Latter-day Saint is regarded as expendable. They may still think I’m strange and I am – but when I do my callings, they accept me as one of the fellow citizens of the Saints. I am part of the life of the Church as I never was able to be here.
Even if you stay here in Mormon country – and many of you will – you can still do some things that will help you live a real Mormon life:
Don’t cultivate weirdness. Trust me, you’re going to be weird anyway; you don’t have to try. Instead, try very hard to appear normal. It communicates a good message. The message is: “I want to be one with you.” And, of course, to the artsy types, it says the opposite, and that’s also a good message to give.
You must absolutely forbid yourself to sneer, especially at things you don’t understand. If you don’t understand what people are reading those silly sentimental Mormon romances for, then don’t you dare criticize them for it. You don’t know what hungers are being met by what art. All you can truthfully say is that you’re not part of the audience for that work.
Above all, when you look at the Mormon people always feel yourself to be one of us especially when we drive you crazy. Instead of saying, “Look at what those bozos are doing now,” you must phrase it this way in your own heart, “Why do keep doing these crazy things?”
This is not a matter of “mere” words it is not a trivial difference. You must always conceive yourself to be part of this community, even when you disapprove of what the community does. Your sense of “us” must always include the Church, never exclude it.
And your sense of “I” must always include the Savior, that’s what it means to take upon yourselves the name of Christ. He’ll never sign your work, but he’ll be part of it all the same. And then all your works can honestly be offered like prayers, in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.
By Pat Debenham
Some time ago, I and other faculty members of the BYU Dance Department discussed our concern about the future of our students, particularly those in music dance theatre. These are highly skilled young people who can and should, by virtue of their technical and spiritual training, be lights unto the world. Many succeed professionally or semiprofessionally. We are excited for them. Many, however, far too many, do not fare as well spiritually. They are seduced-drawn away from things that are essential-not only by the world, but by the very gifts that take them into the world, the artistic gifts that God endowed them with.
Opposition and Gifts
Seduction! I realize this is not a word that would usually surface in a gospel forum about gifts. Ordinarily, when I think about seduction, I see Gwen Verdon in Bob Fosse's Damn Yankee as the female devil incarnate Lola tempting Joe Hardy, singing, "Whatever Lola wants, Lola gets." With her long legs and corseted body, she is definitely beguiling and thoroughly seductive. In this scene, Lola fulfills the most common definition of what it means to seduce, that is, to lead astray by persuasion of false promises. What she offers to Joe is not in reality what he will actually get, nor will it fulfill his most important desires.
You may be saying, "I understand seduction by the Lolas of life. But as a Latter- day Saint pursuing my art to edify the children of men, how could I be seduced by my gift?" The answer lies in the fact that there is "opposition in all things" (2 Ne. 2:11), including those things that are meant for our good, such as artistic gifts. Opposition in this instance has less to do with being tempted by the evil things of the world and more to do with the attitudes and choices we make regarding the gifts we have been given; when our gifts are misunderstood and misused, they will take us away from that which is precious beyond our understanding.
The reasons for this possibility were clarified for me by Neal A. Maxwell. Two of his statements about Satan's tactics during Christ's forty-day fast are particularly enlightening: "The evil one. . . avoids that which is most apt to be deflected by us." 1 And "the points of our personal vulnerability. . . will be exploited."2 Satan will not tempt us with the things in which we have no interest, but he can hold us hostage by that which we want most, that in which we have an investment, that which we care for and nurture. Satan knows that if he can get the gift, he can get the person.
In this regard, our gifts themselves can become instruments of seduction and can lead us away from the eternal work that we have been given to do. The forces of our cultural landscape and the perceptions that we hold about our gifts make us vulnerable in ways we may not even realize. In far too many instances and even without our knowing it, Lola does get her way.
Patterns of Obvious Seduction
Our gifts make us open to ways of being, attending, thinking, and acting that can be positive forces in developing a discipline grounded in eternal values. But when these ways of being go unchecked, obvious seduction takes place-we are lured into situations, places, and attitudes that compromise our relationship to the gospel. Meaning becomes transitory, and there is no centering agent or hierarchy for making choices. We lose our orientation and eventually find ourselves struggling with who we are. Family and institutional voices become muffled, and we guiltily distance ourselves, hoping to silence the disapproval of our disobedience. Ultimately, this journey moves us away from Christ.
Our most potentially seductive characteristics relate to our focus, our perspectives and values, and our boundaries. Some of the possible ways these characteristics route us to destructive paths are listed below.
Seductive Focus
Seductive Perspectives and Values
Seductive Boundaries
If you are anything like me, there are many of these ways of being that you hold dear. Whether they move us toward or away from the gospel often becomes an issue of the incremental choices we make. A web page entitled "Tips on How to Flirt" caused me to see more clearly the cunning with which we are led away from goodness without even realizing it. For a person to be successful at flirting-and I think the Master Seducer has perfected these techniques-it is important to have repeated contact. Whispering is essential-"it always gets their attention." Sitting alone is effective. You must treat the object of the flirtation gently. It is important to look over your shoulder and smile as well as look over the object from head to toe. 4
Through gentle persuasion, we accept advances. Then with time, our sense of appropriateness changes. Our flirtations beguile us ever so subtly into making choices that our more refined, spiritually sensitive natures would not have made. What at one point would have been undesirable becomes acceptable behavior. Nephi describes the process with these telling phrases: "the devil. . . leadeth them away carefully," "others he flattereth away," and "he whispereth in their ears, until he grasps them with his
awful chains" (2 Ne. 28:21, 22).5
Flirting produces heat, not light. Heat consumes you and leaves nothing but dross; light moves through space and time to reveal and brighten the way. The following example of an artist's flirtation points out the difference. One of our students took her mother to see Rent. The mother, though uncomfortable, sat through the whole show but could not understand how her daughter could support such a production, especially knowing its content beforehand. (If I am not mistaken, this was the second or third time the young woman had seen the show.) When questioned about the lack of values in the show, the student outlined how the production values were high and the music singable. Yes, she agreed, there may have been some objectionable parts, and the morals of the characters portrayed weren't what we profess, but the ultimate message was one of love and acceptance, which more than made up for the lack of moral content. By flirting with others' standards, this student had been seduced into confusing heat with light.
We could discuss in greater detail where and how obvious seduction through our gifts takes place, but I think those circumstances are apparent and need no further consideration. It is the subtle seduction that most concerns me.
Patterns of Subtle Seduction
Patterns of subtle seduction manifest themselves as thought, attitudes, and actions that on the surface seem innocent enough but when more thoroughly examined reveal attitudes and practices where allegiance to the art, the gift, and the self are more apparent than allegiance to the gospel, others, and Christ. This allegiance ultimately underlies movement away from spiritually informed practice toward activity that is counterproductive to spiritual growth. For me, this allegiance to the art rather than the gospel is perhaps the most challenging aspect of being an artist and a dedicated Saint because Satan's seduction happens within the context of our gospel practice.
Subtle seduction begins when words, phrases, and concepts from the scriptures and the words of the prophets are unwittingly modified, exaggerated, and taken out of context to support a righteous desire to magnify and ennoble the gift. Doing so, however, expands the gift beyond its original function. When we amplify the gift beyond its intended purpose or role, we have in essence violated the first of the Ten Commandments: "Thou shalt have no other gods before me" (Ex. 20:3).
I have identified three misconceptions that, when magnified, eventually shift us away from the restored gospel of Christ. These beliefs are (1) artists are particularly blessed, (2) artistic gifts are callings, and (3) strong, positive emotional responses to artworks or performances housed in a gospel-related context are always manifestations of the Spirit.
Misconception 1: As artists we are particularly blessed to be in possession of our gifts. Artists, like shamans, are awarded special consideration in society. Artists are seen as different, set apart. Through our gifts, we persuade, attract, entice, and move people beyond themselves. This ability is perceived as making us special and focuses an inordinate amount of attention on the individual.
As an artistic community, we often relish our uniqueness and even foster it. But the resulting self-centeredness can be destructive. I call this effect the Myth of Speciality. In the "world," the myth of speciality often manifests itself both in abhorrent behavior and in art that runs the gamut from absurd to perverse. Within the context of the gospel, this myth causes us to see ourselves in subtly skewed ways, and if unchecked or unexamined, it creates an atmosphere where the other two misconceptions flourish.
For example, this feeling of specialness manifests itself in an odd, troubling way in the prayers that I hear BYU performers offer before rehearsals or performances. On these occasions, the students (and I find myself saying the same words) thank Heavenly Father for our gift, for our light. We thank him for the positive things we perceive we can accomplish with the gift. We ask, "Help us to bless the audience tonight, to bring light to them through what we have to share." Though such prayers voice care for others and concern for God's work, they also seem self-directed and congratulatory. Too often the word we occurs in conjunction with our special position in manifesting the gift, making our gift and ourselves-rather than God and others-the center of our prayers.
This sense of special "blessedness" also appears under the guise of what I call the Myth of Creative Power, which suggests that artists, by virtue of their creative power, are more Godlike than others. We like to assume that God, the First Creator, the creator of worlds without end, is also the first artist. As artists involved in the creative process, we believe we are thus more like him or at least more connected, more familiar with him, than others. We support that reasoning with questions that on the surface are righteous but again uniquely link artists with God: What, we ask ourselves, can be for us as Latter-day Saints more important than to be like God, who is the source of all light and truth? Aren't light and truth what art provides the world? And shouldn't we aspire to be vehicles of light, truth, beauty, love, and pure intelligence? Both the Myth of Speciality and the Myth of Creative Power are based in prideful attitudes that potentially separate us from others as well as from the gospel.
Misconception 2: Artistic gifts are callings. As meaningful as this concept is and as committed as it can make us to our art, we must be careful about this belief. This perception can, as mentioned earlier, be traced to our own interpretations of the scriptures and of the words of the Brethren regarding gifts. We have all read scriptural passages or heard addresses that" confirm" for us the importance of our gift in relation to the grand scheme of life. In many cases, we are impressed enough by the words and possibly by a personal spiritual prompting to consider our gift a calling. But callings in the Church are priesthood-appointed positions. We must be careful not to infer that our artistic gift, though divinely given, is a divine appointment. When we suggest that we are" called" or in some way appointed to use our gift, we precariously position ourselves as official representatives of God. In so doing, we are presumptuous, I believe, and in danger of blasphemy. Of course, we feel a responsibility to magnify our gift, but to represent it to either the public or ourselves as a calling possibly perverts the original intent and certainly distorts the source of the gift. A Church calling is directly from God as an appointment with all the pertinent rights and blessings bestowed upon us. But viewing our gift as a calling is a self-appointment.
Now for what I consider to be the heart of my concern: just as we can be seduced into believing that our gift is our calling, we can also be lured into thinking that our proclivities are equivalent to gifts given to us by the Holy Ghost or by the Spirit of God. When we interpret scriptural and prophetic references about gifts to mean our God-given proclivities, we confuse our talent with the actual gifts that God enumerates in the scriptures. Even by simply using the word gift to identify our proclivities (as I have in of this article), we can be seduced not only by our talents but also by the very label attached to them. Although the talents we call gifts are not in actuality the gifts referred to in the scriptures, we all too often equate them.
In making this association, we step onto slippery ground. We are in effect seduced into thinking our talents are more than they are, for we are claiming that our talent has a similar, if not the same, function that spiritual gifts have and, therefore, that our discipline is equal in weight and magnitude to the gifts that are named. We endow our talent with privileges and rights that may not be intended for it. I realize that this line of thinking is not, on the surface, how we perceive ourselves in relation to our talent or how we perceive the talent itself, but if we listen carefully to our language as we speak about our talents, we will find this perception lurking under our words.
Three major discussions of gifts occur in the scriptures: Moroni 10:8-17, 1 Corinthians 12:1-11, and Doctrine and Covenants 46:8-29. By examining these passages to clarify the nature of the scriptural gifts and their relationship to our talents, perhaps we will more faithfully honor and fulfill the nature of both. As we will see, one is ultimately in the service of the other. Without this foundational concept, we are, as I have suggested, open to seduction.
During his last opportunity to record words "of worth" (Moro. 1:4), Moroni outlined the spiritual gifts and spent a good deal of time exhorting us to "deny not the gifts of God, for they are many" (Moro. 10:8). He tells us that they are for the profit of men. The Apostle Paul also listed these gifts and states they are important enough that he would not have us be ignorant of them (1 Cor. 12:1). Clearly our understanding of them is vital.
In the three scriptural passages about spiritual gifts, those gifts are clearly identified: to teach the word of wisdom, to teach the word of knowledge "that all may be taught to be wise" (D&C 46:18), to have "exceedingly great faith" (Moro. 10:11), to heal and be healed, to "work mighty miracles" (Moro. 10:12), to prophesy, to behold angels and receive the ministering of spirits, and to speak and interpret languages and tongues. "These gifts come by the Spirit of Christ," Moroni reminds us (Moro. 10:17), and are given by the Holy Ghost in support of our progression. These are the gifts that God presents to us as important.
Nowhere do these passages mention the gift of dance, song, music, or painting. Nor do these scriptures mention the gift for building or troubleshooting machines, the gift of public speaking, the gift of medicine, or the myriad of other gifts that we often refer to. I believe that herein lies part of the problem: what we label this proclivity that Heavenly Father has bestowed upon us can produce an exaggerated sense of what our abilities are for.
David Tinney, one of our music dance theatre faculty, has a unique perspective on our gifts and talents that helps to place our art making within a larger context. His feeling is that we need to consider our professional involvement in the arts as a job. Pure, simple, and pointed. It is a job. Our work in our art form is a vehicle that allows us to accomplish other things in life. It is not (and these are my words, not his) a "calling." As much as I, the artist, the choreographer, the dancer-performer, have in the past reveled in-perhaps even been self-congratulatory for-my status in life, Dave's awareness helps me to understand that my discipline-related talents are not the spiritual gifts that God bestows upon us to assist in the redemption of mankind.
Misconception 3: Strong, positive emotional responses to artworks or performances housed in a gospel-related context are always manifestations of the Spirit. During an encounter with a work of art or a performance, strong emotion is often confused with manifestations of the Spirit. Physical sensation, emotion, and artistic conventions can indeed be pathways to spiritual experiences. But in many instances, what is experienced as a spiritual manifestation is merely heightened sensation. Emotion, tears, and physical stirrings, not the Spirit, are "witnessing" to the individual. In other words, the experience is not a response to the still small voice but is a response to theatrical trappings and a dynamic that rides on a flow of manufactured heat rather than eternal light. This problem leads to my concern that creators and audiences alike sometimes participate in a phenomenon I call performed spirituality.
Performed spirituality appears when craft and art are used in such a way that physical and emotional responses are mistakenly experienced or represented as spiritual enlightenment. The spirituality is feigned and false. We have all experienced performances that in some way impressed us but left us unfulfilled. This response occurs when spirituality is manufactured. The experience is about artifice rather than what is actual. It is practiced. The performers and creators are skillful at knowing what techniques to use to obtain a desired emotional effect. They can move others and themselves by sheer technique. For example, pianists by the skilled use of crescendos, diminuendos, and ritardandos alone can heighten emotional response without the presence of the Spirit. Although the performers or audience may label such a technique- based response as a spiritual manifestation, the spirituality is manufactured rather than real.
In performed spirituality, emotion and passion become a vehicle for heat-a simulation of light and spirituality. The form, in a postmodern sense, becomes the substance, which makes distinguishing heat from light difficult. The form is enactment rather than embodiment and uses skill to impress rather than bless. It lacks the spiritual depth that ultimately connects on a level beyond the veneer of craft.
This performed spirituality appears when a performance or a creation is grounded in talent and not in eternal principles sustained by light and truth. When a work is grounded in the art itself, we will be impressed, whether we know it or not, by the technique and skill of the artists, not by the spirit that should accompany the work. It seems to me that spirituality just is. As with humility, you cannot try to be humble. Either you are humble, or you are not. When an individual tries to be humble, the "humility" feels hollow. The same is true of spirituality.
In 2 Timothy 3:1-7, Paul cautions us about "having a form of godliness, but denying the power thereof." When the passage is applied to creators and performers, I find it a chilling indictment of art that is more about form than eternal substance:
This know also, that in the last days perilous times shall come. For men shall be lovers of their own selves, . . . Without natural affection, . . . heady, highminded, lovers of pleasures more than lovers of God; Having a form of godliness, but denying the power thereof: from such turn away, For of this sort are they which creep into houses, and lead captive silly women laden with sins, Zed away with divers lusts, Ever learning, and never able to come to the knowledge of the truth. (Italics added)
Performed spirituality can lead us away so that we are ever experiencing the heat of a work of art but are never able to come to a knowledge of the truth. Performed spirituality is thus suspect, even dangerous. It is a misuse of our gifts, and in many instances, it is manipulative, though not always intentionally so. When feeling the powerful stirrings that art can produce, the inexperienced may not sense when outward form is not attended by the Spirit. They become confused about the way manifestations of the Spirit are dispensed. Passion and technique then become substitutes for spiritual sensation; outward form becomes a substitute for inner spiritual peace. Because the emotional high manufactured by the craft is not self-sustaining, occasional substitution is followed by increasing dependence on artistic experiences to provide "spiritual" sensations. A transient counterfeit replaces the enduring peace of the Spirit, leaving the person anchorless in times of seduction. And thus some of our dance and theatre students and many of the rest of us are lured away.
Conclusion: Protection from the Seduction of Our Talents
Obvious and subtle challenges attend the work we do as Latter-day Saint artists. The Master Seducer knows that the artistic gifts we hold most precious have the potential to entice us away from eternal life. How then can we protect ourselves from the seduction that accompanies our talent?
As a defense against performed spirituality, partakers of art have a personal challenge to discern between the Spirit and the elements of emotion and physicality used to support artistic intent. Through awareness and experience, art audiences will come to know whether a work of art is a result of well-designed artistic conventions and / or dynamic eternal principles.
Makers of art need to be sensitive to and skilled at creating art that enlightens, not only through heightened emotional and physical feelings, but also through the transforming power of the Spirit. We should take responsibility for the potential of our craft to simulate spirituality and must distinguish between the emotional or physical effects of our art and the stirrings that come only from the Spirit. Furthermore, we cannot leave our art at the level of form only, of performed ritual. Our art needs to amplify eternal principles, generate gospel truths, and change understanding. But note that religious content alone-whether explicit or implicit-is not the answer. If unshaped by powerful technique, it also substitutes sentiment for substance. We must engage all our talent and training plus go underneath the form to get at the underlying spiritual elements. By such means, we can invite the Spirit to lead our audience, and us, to a more refined spiritual sensibility.
For me, the primary insights on protecting ourselves from seduction are offered by Doctrine and Covenants 46. Verses seven and eight provide a context for the section's list of spiritual gifts. The passage admonishes us to ask God in all things who giveth liberally; and that which the Spirit testifies unto you even so I would that ye should do in all holiness of heart, walking uprightly before me, considering the end of your salvation, doing all things with prayer and thanksgiving, that ye may not be seduced by evil spirits, or doctrines of devils, or commandments of men; for some are of men, and others of devils. Wherefore, beware lest ye are deceived; and that ye may not be deceived seek ye earnestly the best gifts, always remembering for what they are given.
How do we protect ourselves? First, we ask God for awareness. He will give us answers liberally-not just a few answers, but many. He tells us that the Spirit will confirm what we should be about and that, whatever we do, we should do it with" all holiness of heart," with prayer and thanksgiving, considering the end of our salvation. (I do not know about you, but I am not yet reconciled between my art and the end of my salvation.) He tells us to ask, to listen, and to act so that we will not be seduced by either men or devils. (Oh, but Lola is so attractive!) In addition, so that we will not be seduced, he offers us his "best gifts." Obviously, the gifts have eternal significance and protective power, or they would not keep us from seduction.
And what are the "best gifts?" They are the spiritual gifts listed in the scriptures. They are eternal gifts. They are gifts bestowed upon us by the power of the Holy Ghost. They are not our discipline-specific talents. These talents are to be used in service of the spiritual gifts. As the spiritual gifts become the focus of our attention, we will be able to fulfill the measure of our talents and use them in tangible ways as aids to move others and ourselves on to eternal life.
Through awareness we can identify and label our personal challenges, guarding against desire, putting our passion for our discipline in perspective. When we secure our practice in the light of the scriptures, our talents can be used in tandem with gifts of the Spirit. Then, when Lola appears-in whatever form-we will be able to say, "I have no need of thee."
Pat Debenharn (pat_debenham@byu.edu) is Professor of Modem Dance and Music Theatre at Brigham Young University. He received his M.A. from the University of California, Los Angeles, and is a certified Laban Movement Analyst. This article was first presented at the Art, Belief, and Meaning Symposium, 2000. It will appear in the forthcoming collection, published by BYU Studies, of presentations selected from the 1998, 1999, and 2000 art, belief, and meaning symposia.
1. Neal A. Maxwell, Even As I Am (Salt Lake City: Deseret Book, 1982), 72; see also Neal A. Maxwell, "Discipleship and Scholarship," BYU Studies 32, no. 3 (1992): 7.
2. Maxwell, Even As I Am, 76.
3 Maxwell, Even As I Am, 73-74. .
4. Vanessa Louise, "Tips on How to Flirt," <http://mypaLhypermart.net/html/ flirt.html>, November 2000.
5. The full text reads, "And others will he pacify, and lull them away into carnal security, that they will say: All is well in Zion; yea, Zion prospereth, all is well-and thus the devil cheateth their souls, and leadeth them away carefully down to hell. And behold, others he flattereth away, and telleth them there is no hell; and he saith unto them: I am no devil, for there is none-and thus he whispereth in their ears, until he grasps them with his awful chains, from whence there is no deliverance." For a sense of how "I am no devil" applies to flirting, read that phrase as "there is no harm intended" or "the good outweighs the bad."
By Douglas E. Bush
Professor of Music, BYU As printed in the BYU Collegiate Post Volume 1 Issue 3
The concluding lines of Milton’s poem “At a Solemn Music” voices the wish:
O may we soon again renew that song, And keep in tune with Heav’n, till God ere long To his celestial consort us unite, To live with him, and sing in endless morn of light.
A personal goal that many strive for is to “keep in tune with Heav’n,” to understand and adopt gospel principles, to study the Word and emulate divine precepts, to do the right things for the right reasons.
As usual God provides many tools to aid our endeavors in worthy pursuits, and music may be among the most effective tools available. Shortly after the organization of the Church, in July 1830, the Lord enjoined Emma Smith to select hymns for use in church, “For my soul delighteth in the song of the heart; yea the song of the righteous is a prayer unto me and shall be answered with a blessing upon their heads” (D&C 25:11-12). Hymns and sacred songs not only provide effective means for worship, they convey messages of truth and often teach truths that are understood in our hearts.
In the preface to the current hymnal, the First Presidency states that “hymns move us to repentance and good works, build testimony and faith, comfort the weary, console the mourning, and inspire us to endure to the end. . . . We encourage all members, whether musically inclined or not, to join . . . in singing the hymns.”
About 100 years after Milton penned his poem, Johan Sebastian Bach wrote that “the aim and final reason of all music . . . should be none else but the Glory of God and the recreation of the mind. Where this is not observed, there will be no real music but only a devilish hubbub.” In Bach’s day, music was not divided against itself; though different musical styles flourished, virtually no distinction was made between sacred and secular music, hence composers frequently and freely used the same musical ideas in both court and church settings without implications of drawing the secular into the sacred, or vice versa.
The notion that music should glorify or please God has existed for centuries. For example, fifteenth-century cyclopedist Johannes Tinctoris wrote: “For it is proper to any artist that he be most satisfied with his work if it be perfect. Wherefore it must be held that God, who has not known a work of imperfection, must be most pleased with the most perfect art since he has created most perfect work himself.”
A century later the famed Michelangelo Buonarroti expressed a similar sentiment when he wrote that “true art is made noble and religious by the mind producing it. And the mind, the soul, becomes ennobled by the endeavor to create something perfect, for God is perfection, and whoever strives after perfection is striving for something divine.”
During the late 18th, the 19th, and the 20th centuries, music (and many other art forms) became increasingly popularized, and the role gradually shifted so that now music is generally regarded as entertainment, a “wallpaper” to do other activities, and relatively few make the effort to understand or engage music as a rewarding activity involving both mind and spirit. Music has become a vital part of an entertainment industry with enormous monetary and consumer concerns. Musical perfection and the aim of pleasing or glorifying God are clearly not “in the mix” of today’s popular music. The sacred and secular have polarized, and all too often, the secular seems designed to appeal to base and degrading elements.
In spite of the polarization and the inherent innuendos accompanying pop music and pop “culture,” some persist in attempting to combine pop elements with gospel precepts of doctrines. This has led various Church leaders to address the issue.
In a 1976 BYU Devotional titled “The Arts and the Spirit of the Lord” Elder Boyd K. Packer commented: “There have been a number of efforts to take sacred gospel themes and tie them to modern music in the hope of attracting our young people to the message. Few events in all of the human history surpass the spiritual majesty of the First Vision. We would be ill advised to describe that event, the visit of Elohim and Jehovah, in company with rock music, even soft rock music, or to take equally sacred themes and set them to a modern beat. I do not know how that can be done and result in increased spirituality. I think it cannot be done. We cannot convey a sacred message in an art form that is not appropriate and have anything spiritual happen. But there is a constant attempt to do it.”
President Benson, in the January 1974 Ensign, further counseled: “Music, once . . . innocent, now is often used for wicked purposes. . . . In our day music itself has been corrupted. Music can, by its tempo, by its beat, by its intensity and it’s lyrics, dull the spiritual sensitivity of men.”
With a rather humorous twist, President Spencer W. Kimball wrote in the November 1982 Ensign: “I am comforted by the assurance that there will be beautiful music in heaven, and for that I am most grateful. Some say that there will be no music in that other place – but then some sounds that pass for music probably belong in that other place!”
Why is the “popular” particularly problematic in the realm of the sacred? Why the continuing counsel to be careful in what we listen to and cultivate in our homes and private lives?
Pop music is an item of quantity, often produced using shortcut techniques or an “assembly-line” approach where components such as melody, harmony, orchestration, etc. are the responsibility of specialists. This often results in work that lacks either integrity or originality. Popular music is big business, run by methods and techniques for the sake of huge financial rewards. It is success oriented, and that success is measured in terms of money and volume, the lack of which results in its quick death. Thus it aims to do that which will appeal, that which will generate profit, for when that begins to fade, the form withers and dies. It stands not on artistic merit, but rather on its ability to sell. More than once I have heard a Mormon-pop “artist” defend his work saying, “But that is what people will buy!”
The popular has a need for continuous novelty – durability and depth are not characteristic attributes. In order to continue to grab the attention of the public on whom it feeds, pop must ever produce a new twist, a clever cliché, or even shock. In its need for novelty, it shows itself to be shallow musically, for novelty is merely repetition in a different but quickly discernable disguise, a surface change without substance.
Popular music fads do not last because the actual musical content is standardized – there is little to distinguish one pop tune from another. Since it lacks genuine creativity, pop music offers immediate gratification and promotes musical immaturity. Pop is easily consumed; it asks little of the listener. If music operates on the popular level, music education becomes unnecessary. There is nothing of significance left to learn.
In aiming at immediate pleasure and satisfaction, the popular dispenses with concerns for good taste. It bypasses the intellect in favor of emotionalism, fun, and amusement. Rather than encouraging thoughtful reflection, criticism, or discrimination, it tends to reduce serious issues to the level of entertainment and tends to foster neglecting the God-given stewardship of heart and mind. Creativity, integrity and artistic honesty are concepts that hinder musical and artistic apathy.
Elements or romanticism found in the popular tend to retard emotional maturity. Some characteristic themes of literary romanticism similarly exist in the popular: the dangerous or adventurous, the association with solemnity or enthusiasm, the rebellious in respect to civilization or convention, intense longing which is prized for itself, more concern with fantasy than with reality. Often themes focus on that which cannot be.
The very nature of the popular creates and environment contrary to quality. Artistic purpose seldom strives for popular recognition, because mediocrity is the standard of the popular. The commercial music industry thrives by giving the public what it wants, often resulting in a middle-of-the-road approach that espouses an indifference to values, standards, and principles. The only thing that flourishes without critical evaluation is mediocrity.
Pop concerts capitalize on sensationalism – a packaged product complete with light displays, dazzling costumes, electronic modifications and augmentation, decibel overkill, and stage gimmicks. Pop artists costuming (or lack thereof) often show utter lack of respect, either for self or audience. The popular often indulges in the vulgar; it encourages fantasies of grandeur, appeals to the sensuous, exaggerates, and is associated with extravagance and infantilism. Hyped performances are more important than quality of the art form, and slicked-up arrangements are standard fare.
Finally the popular is the very essence of transience. It affirms expendability. The “top hits” change from week to week, sometime from day to day. Lacking depth and lasting beauty, the popular depends on its own disposability to insure continuation. Pop music is written and published primarily to make money, so that music is not treated as an art but as a commodity. Writing several years ago, pop advocate Arthur Korb, in How to Write Songs that Sell, wrote: “A [popular] song writer must learn to become a business man – a clever businessman who will handle himself successfully and make the cash registers keep on ringing up the sales. Your songs are a commodity that you will be placing on the selling market.”
To summarize, pop music is concerned with quantity, material profit, novelty, immediate gratification, ease of consumption, entertainment, the lowest common denominator, success above all, romanticism, mediocrity, sensationalism, and transience. The gospel, on the other hand (and true artistic endeavors), promotes individuality, non-materialism, creativity, sacrifice, discipleship, joy, high standards, principles above success, reality, encouragement of the best and the active seeking of perfection, meekness, and permanence. The gospel was not made for popular approval without cost. In the provocative Music and Ministry: A Biblical Counterpoint, Calvin Johansson places these characteristics side by side:
Gospel Attributes Pop Attributes
Individuality. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .Quantity
Non-materialism. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .Material profit
Creativity. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Novelty
Sacrifice. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .Immediate gratification
Discipleship . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Ease of Consumption
Joy. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Entertainment
High standards. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .Least common denominator
Principles above success . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .Success first of all
Reality. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Romanticism
Encouragement of the best. . . . . . . . . . . . . . Mediocrity
Meekness. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Sensationalism
Permanence. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Transience
Admittedly, not all popular music is bad or ill intended. But we deprive ourselves of much that is beautiful by making the popular the focus of our musical attention. In the sacred realm, the use of popular elements may ultimately retard our understanding and appreciation of spiritual matters. Though pop may serve to introduce some correct principles, the medium must match the message to achieve the fullest potential. To carefully select the music we hear and the books we read, to continually endeavor reaching for the best we know and being willing to wrestle with it until understanding comes, to listen to inspired and wise counsel from prophets and those who speak with the advantage of experience – this will lead to an abundant life and help us “keep in tune with heaven.”