in conversation with friends who visit Bruderhof CommunityThe theme of music comes up again and again – mainly because music itself comes up again and again here.
In fact, singing has always been an intrinsic part of the Bruderhof culture. Today our Church is an international network of communities, but it began as a handful of seekers who left private lives and moved together to build a house in Germany in 1920. Our continued musical emphasis has its roots in the cultural heritage of those first members. Many came to the community directly from the German Youth Movement, a free-spirited group of young people whose interest in “pure” pre-industrial traditions led to the rediscovery of medieval carols and folk songs, and later the compilation of songbooks that became popular across the country.
The German youth movement was not organized or united, but consisted of many small groups of youth who fled urban life with the stated goal of escaping the rigidity of their traditional society. in Wandervogel (“Birds of the Way”) loved to take guitar and violin to the top of a hill, light a fire, huddle around some bread and cheese, then sing ballads and debate passionately about the truths found in philosophy and music and the beauty of the natural world. In direct reaction to the stifling Lutheran piety of the time, many were unwilling to limit truth and beauty to the God preached in the pews. But perhaps unknowingly, they were encountering the living God as they actively sought the Spirit behind these good things.
A fiery rendition at Plow Writers Weekend, Fox Hill Bruderhof, 2023. Photo by Melinda Barth. Used by permission.
As some of these seekers made their way into the Bruderhof community, there was clearly a strong spiritual current at work – a yearning to bring the ideal of brotherhood into expression not only in the practical aspects of daily life, but also in music, song, and dance, whether at mealtimes, evening gatherings, or seasonal celebrations.
The continuity of that vision is reflected in the songs we sing today – for example, our current Christmas hymnal, which consists of over three hundred songs, has its origins in these early years of our community. Some songs are taken from the Bruderhof’s first collection, sonnenlider (“Songs of the Sun”), published 1924. Others were collected from a hand-written collection compiled in 1934.
Singing – whether in family circles, in children’s groups, at worship services, or at plays and concerts – remains an important part of Bruderhof life, especially during Lent and Advent. And as wars and political turmoil forced the community to move from one country to another, new songs were added to the canon. In England, which was one of the Bruderhof’s first refuges from Nazi Germany, new members brought with them oxford book of carolsFirst published in 1928. In the 1950s – the decade in which the Bruderhof established its first roots in New York – participation in the American work camp movement, with its emphasis on international understanding and cooperation, led to the rediscovery of folk tunes from around the world. Traditional American hymns joined the English translations of Lutheran hymns that the first generation preferred. Later chapters of our communal history introduced us to African-American spirituals, tunes from the hollows of Appalachia, and songs learned from South Korea, Zimbabwe, and South Africa.
Of course, during the holidays, there is always a flurry of rehearsals and performances of plays and competitions, and many of the songs from these productions have become part of our annual celebrations, like Vivaldi’s choruses. gloriaHandel’s messiahAnd the oratorios of Bach and Saint-Saëns, not to mention the timeless hymns and carols still sung by millions around the world.
As a child, I always decided Christmas was my favorite time of year in Advent, but every spring it was replaced by Easter. These songs introduce a child to Palm Sunday and all of Holy Week, communicating the sacrifice and sorrow of Good Friday as no sermon ever could. But they also welcome the sunrise on Easter morning with the triumph of the trumpet. “Christ the Lord is Risen Today” and “Crown Him with Many Crowns” play, as well as no less lovely songs composed by Bruderhof members over the years – perhaps an inspired kindergarten teacher Some simple verses may emerge To welcome spring and the east tide with your students:
The whole earth is waking up from its winter sleep;
Snow and ice are going, streams and rivers are flowing,
Easter is here again.
The cold and sadness are gone,
We will follow Jesus,
Let us all praise our risen Lord together.
When children grow up listening to and singing these songs, their favorite songs become synonymous with their page numbers. Last Easter morning, as our community gathered to sing the triumphant song of the Resurrection, I couldn’t help but smile when the voices of several children called out, “One sixty-three!” At the same time – my childhood favoriteA poem by Jane Tyson Clement set to music by my husband’s grandmother, musician Marlies Swinger:
The lambs leap across the meadow,
The larks leap into the sky,
And all the bells of heaven start ringing
Because our Lord rides.
a lot of songs Although we sing, it has no great spiritual significance. Communal lunches often begin with a cheerful song, no matter what season we find ourselves in – and whatever the kids may be doing while outside – sledding, skating, hiking, camping, jumping into piles of leaves.
Starting them young. The author’s niece and nephew try out a trap set at a family function. Photo courtesy of Maureen Swinger.
But, keeping in mind sonnenlider Old book, it’s still the most amazing mash-up. in the worn pages of sing happily In the songbook, affectionately known as “The Blue Book” (because it has red, green, and even purple collections), we have seasonal songs with lyrics by William Shakespeare, William Blake, and Thomas Nashe. One of Blake’s poems is based on a Russian folk tune. Then there is a tune borrowed from Mozart, with some lyrics by Aldis Dunbar, and some by a Bruderhof member, who undoubtedly added in another verse because “the song was too short.”
It is hot in the mountains today,
Laughter in the air – Hey listen!
It’s hot in the forest today,
The aspen trees are fluttering.
Some songs to acknowledge the arrival of a new baby are:
We thank you, love you God
For every little thing,
But for the kids, cute and little
We thank you most.
Plus, about twenty different birthday songs to mix it up with the ubiquitous “Happy Birthday to You” chant. Who wouldn’t want to receive such blessings in the next year of their life?
We wish you sunshine in your day,
The shine of the stars at night,
On your path, the shine of the moon’s gentle ray,
And the twinkling lights of fireflies.
It’s as if music is its own language, designed to announce the seasons, to rejoice in whatever needs celebrating(a). Very need to celebrate), underline the faith, bear the sorrow together. This undercurrent of music goes beyond the subject matter of the songs themselves. Any singing takes on its own character, often with surprising, apparently random combinations of lyrics brought into the flow.
Even the songs sung at worship services do not always openly refer to God. Reminiscent of some of the formal anti-religious sentiments of the German youth movement of the 1920s, many of the large wave of young American families and singles who attended the Bruderhof in the fifties and sixties had moved away from a denominational church, in search of something to believe in, yet were reluctant to use religious language lightly. They brought with them a ton of songs taken from summer camps and conventions or borrowed from friends or family.
Thus, at the conclusion of an evening worship service, you might hear someone suggest a song that came to us years ago – from all sources – through the Girl Scouts:
I ask for peace from you, O river,
Peace, peace, peace.
When I learn to live in peace,
Worries will end.
I gather courage from the hills,
Perspective of the day to come,
The power to lead and the confidence to follow,
Everything has been given to me.
While the author probably did not intend for peace, faith, and vision to be general enough to many faiths or any faith at all – “spiritual but not religious” – here, in a gathering of scripture reading and prayer, the hills that give us courage may be the ones to which we lift our eyes for help. A river can also be one whose streams bring joy to the city of God.
At a time when words “Music” mostly brings to mind digitalized, commercialized and performative sound – the act of “singing” – while recovering an earlier, richer understanding of music, it is still possible to “sing along”. Communal singing is very different from performance: the latter provides an experience to the audience, who encounter the music as receivers, while the former invites participation. It is a circle, balanced, equal, complete but never ending, that sends out sound to give its voice to the outsiders for joy and comfort.
That’s why to me it doesn’t really matter whether we’re singing worship songs or folk songs, or really any other genre. As long as we are a group of people with a common purpose, we are giving thanks for being together, which means we are also giving thanks to the one who brings us together.
Friends from Honesdale, Pennsylvania, join members of the Fox Hill community to share favorite folk songs and hymns. Photo by Maureen Swinger. Used by permission.
you might like to think Immersion of that cradle in the culture of music will secure the blessings of perfect pitch for us and our posterity. Sadly, that doesn’t happen. It’s true that between general surround-sound and various motivated music teachers who play guitar and introduce age-appropriate songs to one-year-olds, many kids can rattle off a triple row of a few hundred songs by the time they reach middle school, and some can even master the harmony just by listening to it enough times. But making like a bird is not given to everyone, and that’s okay. One of my favorite uncles, Tony Potts, purred happily in his somewhat tuneless baritone, following the general injunction from Psalm 100 to “make a joyful noise to the Lord.” Others who have talent in non-musical direction may choose to simply listen and appreciate, while also contributing by being part of the troupe.
And if one is suffering or sad, sometimes there is comfort in being silent within the sound, like a rock that feels the force of water flowing over and around it.
growing up Until my husband, Jason, and I spent a few years living in a tiny house community, being on an actual river of music wasn’t something I knew of as an appreciable thing. Yes, we were surrounded by as much performative music as we chose to spool up. Yes, we sang together a lot, since the kids were little and we wanted to keep our favorite songs alive that were connected to our culture as well as our faith.
A mini-band was fine; We sing to wake ourselves up at breakfast, and sing to our children to sleep at night. Around Easter and Christmas the sound felt a little thin and lonely. I was delighted when friends from our children’s play group expressed interest in learning some of our repertoire of spring songs for the neighborhood May Day celebration, then happily adopting the Bruderhof’s “Lantern Walk” tradition in the autumn with all its enchanting songs.
But I was completely unprepared for my reaction to the daily Bruderhof singing upon our family’s arrival in the Fox Hill community a few years later. All those bookless, audience-less, spontaneous, two-hundred-voice four-part notes came upon me; It was like standing under a waterfall.
It did not matter which song was being sung. It was all prayer.
