A Word From David
What I was thinking about while thinking about worship.
What do we do with the art of artists who did awful things? Can pop music fans listen to Michael Jackson given all of the credible allegations of abuse leveled at him? Can fans read Harry Potter given the transphobia of J.K. Rowling? Can art lovers appreciate the art of Picasso given what we know of Picasso the man? Can film buffs still watch Woody Allen?
More to the point, for me in any case, can peacemakers turn to the writings of Mennonite scholar John Howard Yoder given his history of sexual abuse? Can Protestant preachers rely on the theology of Karl Barth after disclosure of his decades-long affair? Can those of us who love the practice and witness of L’Arche communities around the world make use of the theology of their founder, Jean Vanier, given revelations about his abuse of women in some of those communities?
To precisely the point, for all of us who joyfully sing many of his hymns in Glory to God, what do we do with the music of David Haas? Haas is the author and composer of dozens of collections of hymns and liturgical pieces over the past 40 years. He has published several books on church music, and led countless retreats. Four of his hymns are in Glory to God.
In 2020, Haas issued a public apology following accusations from more than 40 women that he had engaged in patterns of sexual abuse of women dating back more than 40 years.
All of this came to mind this week as I pondered hymns for this Sunday. Flipping through the hymnal, I paused at #749, Come! Live in the Light. I enjoy that song, and I initially put it into the draft bulletin.
Then I changed my mind. There are other fine hymns to open worship, and we’ll sing one of them this Sunday.
I don’t pretend to have an answer to all of the questions I’ve posed here. I don’t think there is a single answer adequate to all of them, and there may not be a single answer adequate for all times and places for any one of them. I still feel the beat of Thriller! and I still find some of Barth’s insights useful.
What does it mean to separate the artist from the art?
The question tugs at any mind that quickens reading, “We hold these truths to be self-evident …” More pointedly, in a worship context: what do we do with King David’s story?
This Sunday we’ll use a few images in worship, and as I ponder them I’m grateful that none of the artists are overly problematic!