The People's [Musical] Court

Recently on Methodist Musicians List,a subscriber asked the group how the choir should sing the word "humble" — with an audible, aspirated "h" or with a silent "h." There were lots of passionate responses that talked about British versus American pronunciation and the changing pronunciation of the word "the" depending upon how "humble" is pronounced —l is it "thuh" or "thee"? And even if "umble" with a silent "h" is correct, should we sing it that way if it causes confusion when heard by the people? We quoted dictionaries, language experts, and personal experience; and a good time was had by all.

But there was a deeper issue that came up at the end of the discussion, when one subscriber wrote: "If a word has changed in the language to the point where nearly all the population observes it, then the pronunciation of "humble" with an audible "h" can very likely be considered correct."

Who or what determines the correct pronunciation: a dictionary or the people who speak the language? I think I agree with the last subscriber's suggestion. All the dictionaries on my shelf may say the "h" is to be silent; but if by having my choir sing "umble" instead of "humble," they wonder what it is we're singing; or if it causes them to snicker at our affected pronunciation and thus miss the message of the song, then I've made the wrong choice. For many things, actual practice trumps the dictionary.

It's the same thing with some hymns. For decades, congregations have put fermatas on "And" and "He" as the two opening words of the chorus of "In the Garden," and they have clipped the final "s" sound of "walks" and "talks" and inserted a quick rest and a breath. Should we continue to follow that practice since it's probably expected by the people, knowing that to deny them of it may cause them discomfort and frustration? Or should we as accompanist or director ignore that practice because there are no such fermatas or rests in the hymnal?

How about adding extra fill-in beats following the line, "Joy to the world, the Lord is come. Let earth receive her king" even though these are missing in nearly all hymnals? Or how about the fermata on the final word of the phrase, "Rejoice, rejoice, Emmanuel" in the refrain of "O Come, O Come, Emmanuel"? It was present in the 1966 Methodist Hymnal, and many of our people grew up singing with that fermata. It is not present in the 1989 United Methodist Hymnal, but I have been part of many congregations who sing it as if it were.

There are other examples where the people's practice is at odds with what's usually printed in the hymnal:

• The phrase "and caused the blind to see" in "Victory in Jesus" — Many people sing even quarter notes rather than the eighth note pattern in the hymnal
• How long should we hold the last word of "that saved a wretch like me" in "Amazing Grace"? It's written as a half note, yet nearly everyone adds an extension of one measure to that note and word.
• Lengthened note values in the closing words of the refrain of "How Great Thou Art": We usually become very free with the rhythm and phrasing there.
• The 1989 hymnal restored the anticipatory rhythm of the final phrase of "Joyful, Joyful We Adore Thee" rather than the straight quarter note rhythm of the two previous hymnals. Some churches have ignored this change; some have embraced it; and in some churches, the accompanist plays it while the people ignore it.

So who gets to decide? The hymnal editorial committee? the music director? the accompanist? or the people? Or is it even important that someone decides how it should be done? Should we just go on our way until a common practice emerges?

Hymn singing, like language, is often seen to be a living thing: it grows, it changes, it evolves; and it withers away and even dies. There are dialects and accents. There are regional and cultural differences. In the end, it's the local people — the one with the director's baton in hand or seated on the piano bench or holding the guitar, or even the ones sitting in the pews with hymnals in hand who get to decide. On some things we are likely to agree; on others, not; and on yet others, we will disagree passionately.