The Stainer Society

We are pleased to announce the formation of a non-profit charitable

society called "The Stainer Society"

 

The purposes of the Society are:

  1. To promote Music and the Arts with special reference to the Victorian period,
  2. to encourage the creation or performance of music and the arts by young artist working in contemporary settings,
  3. to perpetuate the good name and reputation of Sir John Stainer,
  4. to associate its activities with St. Cross Church Oxford, beloved and faithfully served by Sir John.

The Officers of the Society are the President, Secretary and Treasurer, who are to be elected from among the Membership.

The administration and day-to-day running of the Society will be assisted and supported by an Executive Council, which will also ensure the coordination and cooperation among the various functions and programs of the Society.

A Board of Honorary Vice-Presidents, comprising knowledgeable persons in the fields bearing on the Purposes of the Society, will act as a consultative body to the Executive Council.

Membership of the Society is open to all persons interested in, and willing to further the objectives of, the Society.

The Society will also appoint Patrons, who will act as figureheads.


If you would like to join the Society or know more, please email nigel.hall@mansfield.oxford.ac.uk or write to:
Nigel Hall
Mansfield College
Oxford, OX1 3TF
United Kingdom.
Our first event took place on 18th November 2001 in St. Cross Church. It was a discussion of psalmody followed choral evensong. The following is a report of the evnt, written by the secretary of the Stainer Society, Dr Elizabeth Griffin:

The Stainer Society - Inaugural Event

 To chant, or not to chant? That was the question which the Stainer Society, at its inaugural gathering on November 18 2001, asked in relation to the use of the Psalms in church worship. Whether it was nobler to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous change, or to admit that we were in fact all contributing to it, was addressed with wisdom and humour by the Bishop of Salisbury, and illustrated musically by the Cathedral Singers of Oxford (Conductor and co-ordinator: Robert Webb).

The Psalms represent a unique art-form, and poetry of enormous antiquity, yet the verses have repeated their beauty, elegance, poignance and (in some cases) their fierceness, timelessly to succeeding generations. Music is also uplifting and enriching, though occasionally modulating and distracting. If, then, there is to be a musical form on which to float the words of the Psalms, the purist would argue that Gregorian Chant is one that can both uplift the mind and at the same time retain the natural flow of the poetry.

Gregorian Chant has for centuries been a powerful catalyst for deep spiritual experience. But if the words are in Latin, the principal language of mediaeval scholars, how can modern souls without that background succeed in understanding the beauty and significance of the poetry? Anglican Chant, dating from the seventeenth century, introduced English texts for the Psalms, and also paired them with structured music, creating a curious hybrid of intoning and singing that has long endeared itself to its practitioners.

Anglican chants, like sonnets, are expansive yet succinct, and as entire as a symphony. The mood of the words can be enhanced by the sensitive choice of a chant, and the parallelism that is so frequent in Psalm verses can be accentuated by antiphonal singing. The choir performed the simple experiment of singing a Lamentation Psalm (137) to a joyful chant appropriate to an Enthronement Psalm (98), demonstrating the almost hilarious (if predictable) effect of insensitive mis-match in which the import of the words was practically obliterated.

However, performance is clearly a key factor, so where does all this leave the average parish church congregation with its inexpert or non-existent choir? Is lifelong familiarity with both words and music an essential prerequisite for successful congregational Psalm singing? If it is, the outlook is bleak, because regular attendance at church services does not appear to feature in modern religious education. Moreover, the general displacement of Mattins by Family Eucharist means that relatively few churchgoers are exposed to Coverdale's Psalms nowadays except in services of Evensong. Lacklustre rendering of the Psalms is dismal and disheartening, and teaches little. The Responsorial Psalms, which allow participation by congregations with no previous experience, so to speak, may win back some who found Anglican Chant confusing and hence uninspiring, but may equally turn away others who find the new versions unappetising, even trite. The responsorial form is not in fact new; several Psalms reiterate their affirmations, while Psalm 136 has a refrain that extends throughout. However, the imposition of non-Anglican responsorial form on Anglican traditional practice is a more serious challenge. Poetry is an art form, an unchangeable, eternal expression. The power of Shakespeare lies not only in what the verses say but the way they say it. Can we presume to update tradition? Surely we should respect what is time-honoured, and preserve all these things as we do the buildings, in the "tradition" of those who moulded them - or should we?

Tradition is actually a somewhat misunderstood word; it describes the practice of carrying on, rather than one of cementing in stone and revering. It is a common fallacy to equate tradition with the things that we recall from childhood as though they represent the stable state; were that so, today's youth must suppose that forms of church worship have always been topics of dissent. In the past they have indeed been causes of violence, rebellion and destruction. Fortunately (for us) such matters are no longer solved by bare bodkins. Yet a blind adherence to the use of what our critical contemporaries regard as outmodish and baffling forms of worship could be bringing about the quietus of the established church service in a more insidious - and more effective - way. Traditions need tweaking from time to time, and modes of Psalm singing are no exception. Just as Shakespeare is better understood in the dramatised performance, the message of a Psalm can also be broadcast effectively when it is the focus of an anthem, such as Parry's setting of Psalm 122, "I was Glad". Nor should we look only to established repertory; Robert Webb's new setting of Psalm 98, which introduced the service of Evensong immediately after our meeting, provides an exciting, dramatic medium for the message of the original Psalm - and a fitting tribute to Sir John Stainer, who was known to encourage contemporary works, especially by those in the early stages of a career.

However, all these attempts to make the Psalms more intelligible to the unpractised ear may in fact be leading us away from something more profound. To the mediaeval monks, chanting (it is claimed) was a vital form of meditation that recharged and regulated daily energy, and the music of the unaided human voice provided both tonic and stimulus for that "fuller experience of God's perfection in body, mind and spirit". There is no short cut to that state of total immersion, which T.S. Eliot describes as "music heard so deeply that it is not heard at all, but you are the music while the music lasts." But in whatever mode we study, read, recite or sing the Psalms, we are continuing a tradition in the steps of countless worshippers down the ages. The messages of assurance, instruction, inspiration and love that we find are an heritage of enduring worth.

Elizabeth Griffin