When we speak of the great and rich heritage of the Lutheran Church, we must include also the fruits and products of Lutheran scholarship. Scholarship is not a stranger within our ranks. On the contrary, it is very doubtful whether any other church body, the Roman Catholic Church excepted, has accumulated as large a store of outstanding theological literature as has the Lutheran Church during the past four centuries. We need but mention the names of Martin Luther, Philip Melanchthon, Martin Chemnitz, Johann Gerhard and his nephew Johann Andreas Quenstedt, Abraham Calov, Charles Porterfield Krauth, C. F. W. Walther, Franz Pieper, George Stoeckhardt, A. L. Graebner, Ottomar Fuerbringer, Ludwig Fuerbringer, J. M. Reu, W. H. T. Dau, and a host of others to show that the Lutheran Church has consistently fostered and appreciated scholarship within her ranks, particularly in the field of theology.

The Lutheran Church has encouraged a scholarly approach not exclusively in the field of theology, however, but also in the fields of church music and liturgics. Here we meet such men as Seth Calvisius (c. 1600), Michael Praetorius (1571–1621), Wolfgang Printz von Waldthurm (c. 1690), who wrote "the first history of music" (Historische Beschreibung der edlen Sing- und Klingkunst), Johann Gottfried Walther, who wrote the first bio-bibliographical encyclopedia of music, Johann Mattheson, Theodor Kliefoth, Karl Eduard Philipp Wackernagel, Herman Adelbert Daniel, Carl von Winterfeld, Ludwig Schoeberlein, Eduard Emil Koch, Hoffmann von Fallersleben, Friedrich Lochner, Robert Eitner, Luther Dotterer Reed, Arnold Schering, Friedrich Blume, Christhard Mahrenholz, Wilhelm Nelle, Leonhard Fendt, and many others.

When we compare the list of outstanding scholars in the field of Lutheran theology with a similar one in the fields of Lutheran church music and liturgics, we note with surprise that while the Lutherans of America own a respectable number of leading theologians, they have produced only a very negligible number of musicologists. This is significant; it certainly proves the fact that the Lutherans of America are still far, far behind the Lutherans of Europe in the fields of church music and liturgics. This lag explains, perhaps, why so many of our theologically trained men regard us church musicians with a certain disdain. Though they will hardly deny that music is an art and a science, they cannot conceive of a church musician as an intellectual. Moreover, many cannot understand that church music is something which requires for its mastery profound study, much hard work, and much intensive thinking. Some years ago, at the time I decided to devote my life to the study of church music, several of my theologically trained friends pleaded that I devote my life to higher and greater purposes, and one, a very well-known theologian of our circles, asked naively, "Kirchenmusik? Muss man so etwas studieren?"

Are not we church musicians ourselves responsible for this attitude? Have not many of us, perhaps, devoted so many of our efforts to the performance of musical bagatelles and to so much activity and so little study and thinking that our theologically trained men were forced to the conclusion they made? Appointments are made and elections take place which show utter lack of understanding and no appreciation whatever of Lutheran standards, Lutheran traditions, and the Lutheran point of view. And yet, gentlemen, I think the fault lies largely with us. Our endeavors have too often failed to make a good impression because they were not worth the effort we put into them. How can we expect thinking people to respect us when we serve up as church music such fare as Farmer’s Mass in B Flat or a sonata by Paul Hindemith; and when, in addition, we rarely or never attend concerts by artists and by great orchestras and when we refuse to read musical works of a scholarly nature. Add to this the fact that one finds among us pettiness, jealousy, self-satisfaction, indifference, and fear of competition and rivalry, and we shall have to admit that we musicians are largely responsible for the predicament in which we find ourselves. I am firmly convinced that we can change the minds of men and put a stop to harmful practices and ambitions: 1) by devoting more time to serious study and to the development of a scholarly approach; 2) by restricting our performances to music which is worthy of being presented in the Lutheran service and is thoroughly attuned to the spirit and philosophy of Lutheran worship.

There are men, and their number is growing steadily, theologians, not musicians, who are sick and tired of the "four-flushing" and the vaingloriousness of certain musicians and of certain opportunists. There is bound to be a change; one cannot fool all the people all the time. A change for the better has already begun to take place. One Lutheran church body recently elected a man to the chair of church music and liturgics who had not been especially active in the field of church music. However, he possesses the necessary musical endowments and has shown himself to be a self-effacing, soberminded, and scholarly servant and educator of the Church. What formal training he still needs for his work, his synod is enabling him to secure at its expense. At another prominent Lutheran school the faculty requested its board of electors to elect to the church music professorship not a man who is primarily a flashy conductor, but a real Lutheran scholar and classroom man. Through years of experience it had come to realize that the choral work done at its school did not provide their graduates with the training and background they needed for their future work. We see in these actions a change of attitude which is indeed encouraging and progressive; and though requests for more careful and wise elections and appointments still fall too often on indifferent and disdainful ears, we church musicians must not lose faith in the efficacy and worth-whileness of principles and practices which are fundamentally sound, wholesome, uplifting, and specifically Lutheran.

I should like to discuss with you today more thoroughly the benefits which may be derived from a more scholarly approach to the subject of church music. The importance of selecting and using exclusively such church music as is appropriate for the Lutheran service I shall ask you to treat at some other time.

I should like to stress at the outset, however, that musicological study and the performance of music should complement and not exclude one another. The one dare not be emphasized at the expense of the other, and far be it from me to maintain that a more scholarly approach will prove to be a cure-all for our musical ills and thus deprive performance itself of its import. I do not know of a single musicologist who will insist that musicological study and research should relegate musical performance to the background; however, I have met not a few musical performers who sneer at liturgical study and at musicological scholarship and research, who very stupidly insist that performance is all that counts. It is necessary that we maintain a healthy sense of balance and view the situation not fanatically but soberly.

God has given some people the ability to conduct, others the ability to perform on an instrument or to sing, still others the ability to compose; there are some who have a special bent for research, for literary pursuits, for lecturing, and for teaching. To some the Lord has given the ability to excel in two, perhaps even in three fields. God has distributed His gifts thus that the Church might benefit thereby, and the Church has no right to dissipate, to ignore, or to reject these gifts of God in men. His kingdom is to profit by their recognition and use. For this reason, too, men trained for other work in the Church have no right to underestimate and undervalue these gifts and put themselves above the musicians of the Church. This applies particularly in a Church which places due stress on the doctrine of the universal priesthood of all believers. The Church needs preachers, teachers, and musicians. The Church needs performers, she needs composers and conductors, she needs scholars, and it is definitely for her own good that she make proper use of all these gifts of the manifold grace of God.

Some may ask whether a more scholarly approach in the field of music does not tend to confuse, perplex, and mystify. They will point, for example, to Bach and the Bach scholars, Forkel, Spitta, Schweitzer, and others. I admit the danger. I can easily understand why Field, in his recent book on Bach, points an accusing finger at the great Bach scholars and deplores the fact that these scholars have given the laity the impression that Bach is really a musicians’ musician. I believe there is room in musical literature for monographs on Bach like the one written by Mr. Field. On the other hand, Mr. Field’s book is likewise not beyond reproach; and Bach scholars and musicologists have just cause for insisting that more regard for accuracy, of which we can never have too much in any field, would have kept Mr. Field from saying some of the questionable and incorrect things he did say without detracting from its interesting content. However, it is generally known that even eminent Bach scholars have erred in arriving at conclusions. What, for example, is one to think when Forkel says of certain works of Bach: "Welcher Kenner der Musik muss nicht Ekel empfinden, wenn er start erhoffter Meisterwerke nun solche Schuelerware zu Gesicht bekommt. . . . Ein Meister wie Seb. Bach . . . muss nicht durch Unterschieben seiner Schuelerarbeiten zum oeffentlichen Skandal gemacht werden."—Spitta’s Bach is undoubtedly a monumental work; I would not be without it, and far be it from me to deprecate this great opus. And yet, who will deny that its labyrinthian character confuses and perplexes at times and that some of his conclusions are questionable and unsound? When a Lutheran reads Parry’s Bach, he is often dismayed because his philosophies and critiques are frequently too personal and subjective, though his book on the whole is excellent. Broughton’s Bach, the Master portrays an utter lack of understanding of Bach’s Lutheran background; one need not be much of a scholar at all to detect its many weaknesses and its faulty interpretations. And what about Schweitzer? It is commonly agreed today that Schweitzer materially weakens his tome on Bach by trying to reduce Bach’s work and art to a mechanical system. Middelschulte correctly said of him: "Der plappert zu viel." Even Terry, whose two books Bach, a Biography, and Bach, the Historical Approach are models of objective but sympathetic scholarship, resorts to unscholarly practices when he de-Lutheranizes Bach’s texts at times for the sake of making them more palatable for his Anglican co-religionists.

One of the most ambitious works treating the history of Lutheran church music is Carl von Winterfeld’s Der evangelische Kirchengesang. This work is one of the most important works in all musicological literature. Its three large volumes plus the Musicalische Beilage offer information which is hard to obtain elsewhere. And yet, what do we find concerning Bach even in this great work? Winterfeld insists that the music of Bach is a closed book to the layman and that Bach is more interested in form than in content. He likewise adds that since the music of Bach is an enigma to the layman, it should not be performed in the church. Winterfeld does not regard Bach as a church composer of the first rank, but he does claim that the Palestrina of the Lutheran Church is Johann Eccard. How is one to account for this claim? How is one to explain that Ludwig Schoeberlein, a contemporary of Winterfeld, in his great Schatz des liturgischen Chor- und Gemeindegesangs likewise refuses to recognize Bach as a first-class church composer and also ignores Heinrich Schuetz almost entirely. Both of these men lived in the Romantic Era. A large percentage of the Romantic composers were members of the Roman Catholic Church (e.g., Schubert, von Weber, Liszt). There was great agitation in the early stages of the Romantic Era in Germany for the music of Handel and Palestrina. The Handel movement started in the Classical Era, in the year 1771, when Alexander’s Feast by George Frederick Handel was performed for the first time in Germany in the city of Hamburg. In the following year Dr. Arne presented Handel’s Messiah in Hamburg for the first time. You will note that Dr. Arne is an Englishman and that Hamburg is closer to England than any other large city of Germany. In 1775 and 1777 the Messiah was again presented in Germany; however, under the leadership of K. P. E. Bach. In 1776 J. A. Hiller presented the Messiah in the Berliner Dom; the orchestra alone consisted of 200 players; and the chorus, of Schuelerchoere of Berlin and Potsdam. This monster performance was repeated in Leipzig and in Breslau under Hiller’s direction, and in this way the oratorio movement was started in Germany. When later, in 1828, Mendelssohn started the Bach movement in Germany with his famous performance of the Passion According to St. Matthew, he followed in the footsteps of Hiller and others; fortunately he recruited a chorus of no more than 150 voices, but he engaged eight opera singers to sing the solos and made the event a great social affair. Bach was not taken seriously as a church composer; even his setting of the Passion Story had to be put on in grand style like Handel’s oratorios. Why was Bach not taken seriously as a church composer? Simply because the a cappella style of Palestrina was regarded as a norm for all church music at that time. Among those who advocated the use of the Palestrina idiom vociferously for the church service was Moritz Hauptmann, who, when referring to Mendelssohn’s performance of the Passion According to St. Matthew, insisted that the Passion Story should never be sung in a setting like that of Bach, but should be chanted and monotoned, the voice dropping a third when arriving at a comma, a fifth when arriving at a period. Under Franz Haberl the city of Regensburg became the starting point of the Palestrina movement, and Munich ultimately became the center of the a cappella movement of Germany. Even Wagner became interested in this Palestrina movement and prepared an edition of Palestrina’s great Stabat Mater and also presented it. Under these circumstances Bach was left out of the picture as a church composer entirely; and need we wonder that men like Winterfeld and Schoeberlein, as children of their times, came under the spell of this agitation? It is easier to excuse them, I believe, than the Liturgical Society of St. James, which made practically no use of more modern German research and which ignored the findings of Kuemmerle, Blume, Mahrenholz, and others whose philosophy is distinctly Lutheran and evangelical in character and who are more interested in seeing the Lutheran Church continue as the "Singing Church" rather than become a hidebound and hierarchical liturgical Church.

This should prove that we need scholarship in the fields of church music and liturgics. We need it so that we do not repeat the mistakes made a hundred years ago; we need it to combat erroneous scholarship; we need it to be able to refute the errors of Schweitzer and others, whose errors are to be attributed not to scholarship, but rather to a lack of it. Let us not forget that attention was called to the mistakes and lapses of men like Winterfeld, Schoeberlein, Schweitzer, and others, not by performers, but by scholars, by musicologists. Musicologists were the first to denounce and decry the liberties taken in the performance of Bach’s music by the Romanticists, then by the modernists, and finally by the ultra-modernists and the neo-classicists; in other words, by such men as Mendelssohn, Tausig, Busoni, Middelschulte, Schoenberg, Stokowsky, Respighi, and others. It is true, musicologists are not liked very much by certain musicians, particularly those who themselves possess no scholarly background and are afraid of men who know better. Their caustic and satirical remarks concerning musical scholars are nothing more than a defense mechanism with which they attempt to conceal their own musical frailty. Since many Jews are to be found among musicologists, musicology has been referred to as a Jewish science. However, it is very doubtful whether there are more Jews among the musicologists than among the concert artists of our day. And let us not forget that much of the interest that has been shown in Lutheran music, and I mean not only the music of Bach, is found in Jewish musicologists, who have the highest regard for our heritage and fail to understand why so very many of us Lutherans do not share their attitude. A colleague of mine took a survey course in the history of music at a great Eastern university this summer. The course was offered by a Jew who is a member of the Roman Catholic Church. My colleague informed me that this man found special delight in berating the musical ignorance of the Roman Catholic clergy and repeatedly referred to Martin Luther’s sane attitude; he very often pointed to the richness of the Lutheran musical heritage, and time and time again advised the members of his class to read the writings of Luther in order that they might acquire a wholesome philosophy of life, music, and religion. I have a very good Jewish friend who is a musicologist of note. Sometime ago I mentioned to him hymns like "Jesus, Lover of My Soul" and "What a Friend We Have in Jesus"; he did not know any of them. But he knew every chorale I mentioned. It is altogether possible that the Lord will use the Jews to impress upon us Lutherans the greatness of our heritage in years to come.

It is very necessary that we Lutheran church musicians develop and possess a strong musico-historical sense. Frankly, I do not understand how we can well get along without it. History plays just as important a role in music as in theology, and as in the field of theology much cannot be understood without a knowledge of ecclesiastical history, so in music much cannot be understood without the knowledge of its historical background. How, for example, can one understand the difference in the natures of the polyphony of Palestrina and the counterpoint of Bach without knowing the 16th century Roman Catholic background on the one hand and the 18th century Lutheran background on the other? Why does much of the music of Bortniansky fit well into the Lutheran service, and why can this not be said of the music of practically all his Russian fellow countrymen? Does not the liturgical background and purpose already discredit much Russian and much Roman Catholic music for use in the Lutheran service? Does not the spirit of our times explain the chaotic character of our music? Does one not understand practically all music better if one knows its background? A layman does not need this knowledge, of course, but if we wish to be reputable musicians, we must know many things the layman need not know. Laymen often know more than we think they do. A few years ago a talented young organist was eager to become organist of a Jewish temple in New York. Wishing to impress the audience favorably, he decided he would play an organ arrangement of the Kol Nidrei in his trial performance in a service. He did not get the job because the Kol Nidrei did not fit into the service, and its performance on that particular day was regarded as a sacrilege by the devout Jews. The movies no longer use Spanish, Mexican, and other foreign music indiscriminately in their pictures, because experience has taught them that it pays to engage musicologists who know the historical and folk-life background as well as the traditions associated with this music and with certain festivals, etc. A conductor with a scholarly background will guard against Romantic performance of the Passion According to St. Matthew; his historical sense will tell him what is wrong and guard him against mistakes made by Mendelssohn and others. An organist with a scholarly and solid Lutheran background will hardly present a recital in which the composers are represented in the following order: Buxtehude, Widor, Hindemith, Bach, Rowley, Franck, Andriessen, Scheidt, Karg-Elert, Hindemith, Shostakovich, and Kaminsky. This may sound absurd, but I saw a program like this which had been presented by one of our organists in one of our churches very recently. The poor fellow undoubtedly saw to it that a loud number was followed by a soft, one written in 4/4 time by one written in 7/16, fast music followed by slow, serioso by jocose frivoloso, but he had no historical sense and no Lutheran sense besides. Bach was only e pluribus unus, and Buxtehude was played as half of the audience walked into the church. I find it very difficult to understand why our choirmasters will not turn out in larger numbers to hear a Lutheran choir present Lutheran music which is seldom heard, even if the program perhaps reveals more ardor than artistry; and I likewise find it difficult to understand why our organists do not turn out en masse to hear Edward Rechlin present his programs of Lutheran organ music. These men reveal not only a spirit of indifference, but also a lack of historical sense. Is it any wonder that we church musicians are not respected more highly than we are and that others are permitted to enter into our field and work?

Scholarly courses of the highest type in the history of church music should be offered at our teachers’ colleges and theological seminaries. But they must be offered by men who know not only the history of music, but also the literature and the music of the Church. When Winterfeld prepared his great three-volume work Der evangelische Kirchengesang und sein Verhaeltnis zur Kunst des Tonsatzes (1843–1847), he collected much music to illustrate the styles, forms, and spirit of the various composers he discussed and published these in the Musikalische Beilage, which accompanied this work. When, previously, in 1834, he had published Johannes Gabrieli und sein Zeitalter, he prepared a collection consisting of no less than 100 volumes of music to supplement his study; we hope that these volumes, written in Winterfeld’s own hand, are still in the Berlin library. When Hugo Leichtentritt prepared his Geschichte der Motette, he examined and analyzed more than 400 compositions by Orlando di Lasso in order to write a satisfactory chapter on this great composer. He is now preparing an English edition of this work and has examined several hundred more compositions by Orlando so as to be sure that his conclusions are correct. Here we have scholarship of the highest type. But in order to do this work and arrive at the proper conclusions, one must know also the intricacies of musical theory, musical form, style, and analysis.

What would one think of a man who lectures on English literature who himself cannot spell correctly, who cannot construct good sentences and analyze them, and who knows nothing about the history of English literature besides? We would not have such a teacher, and even the most stupid student would soon discover that something is radically wrong. The scholar in the field of Lutheran church music, liturgics, and hymnology must know musical theory in all its ramifications if he wishes to do work which is thoroughly satisfactory, appreciable, and deserving of recognition. Without this knowledge one cannot plow through even the most elementary textbook. A mastery of these tool subjects must be taken for granted in our day, and this applies not only to the lecturer on church music, but also to any student of church music who wishes to do worth-while work. Too many of our men satisfy themselves with a one- or two-year course in elementary harmony; too many travel in circles and study only techniques; they study organ for years upon years with Christian Scientists, Baptists, Mormons, and Unitarians, or they study vocal technique for who knows how long, and in addition they neglect music history, and they neglect musical theory, form, analysis, style and composition. That is tragic, and it certainly does not show a sense of balance, nor does it illustrate the scholar’s approach.

I insist that it is extremely important that the good church musician and, above all, teachers of church music be adequately equipped historically as well as theoretically; just as it is necessary for a theologian to have a sound background in dogmatics, isagogics, exegesis, church history, and a host of other subjects in addition to homiletics. There is usually something wrong with the performer who has interested himself in nothing but the techniques of performance, just as there will be something wrong with the preacher who is interested only in the technique of preaching. A good church musician must be able to analyze a piece of music, and to analyze, he needs to know musical theory, musical style and form. I know there are some who claim that when one analyzes a work, he is in danger of destroying the very thing he is trying to study. This is done only if one stops at analysis. It again must be followed with synthesis. One must study 1) the whole; 2) the parts; 3) the whole again. "Analysis need not destroy the work of art; on the contrary, only through analysis can we fully apprehend it." (Glen Haydon, Introduction to Musicology.)

From this same book permit me to read you another quotation: "The preparation for performance means, primarily, the study of a musical instrument. Yet the training in the theory and history of music required in college and conservatory curricula is essential to intelligent musicianship. The extent to which this desired ideal is realized in the life of the individual student is directly proportional to the depth and spread of his insight into the nature and meaning of music, in all its complexity, from the highly specialized musical-technical aspects to the broad sociocultural implications. The development of perspective comes not only from experience, but also from reflection upon the relations involved in any situation or subject matter. . . . It is important that every musician should attain some synthesis of the somewhat disparate knowledge acquired through his studies in musical performance, theory, and history; and that he should develop what may be fittingly called, in a broad sense, a well-rounded philosophy of music."

When I speak of the scholarly approach of the church musician I mean, particularly, of course, that his approach to church music be scholarly in character. There are some who foolishly underestimate the importance of good and outstanding church music. This is the case with many who are interested largely in opera, in symphonic music, in chamber music. Perhaps we should not blame them too much when we consider the type and quality of music one hears so often also in large churches. After all, what is a high-grade musician to think when he hears a prelude by Scotson Clark, a saccharine hymn by Joseph Barnby, a choir anthem by Felix Abscheulich, and a solo by Geoffry O’Hara. The simplest way to convince such people that they are wrong is to perform the music of our Lutheran masters; people may never have studied church music, but if their taste for music is healthy, they will recognize what is intrinsically good, though they may never have heard the names Pachelbel, Buxtehude, Scheidt, and Praetorius. They will not find the names of inferior composers of bygone days and of our day in up-to-date and highgrade musical dictionaries, but they will find there the names of our Lutheran masters. Musicologists will soon berate a work which omits important names. Musical scholars, particularly those who have been trained in Germany, know our Lutheran masters, and they know them very well, even when their field of special interest is operatic or symphonic music, the Classical Era or the Romantic Era.

Gentlemen, we cannot afford to take our work lightly. We must apply to our calling the proverb: Whatever is worth doing at all is worth doing well. We must be willing to make sacrifices in the interest of our work, not for our own sakes, nor merely to satisfy high ambitions, but to serve the Church nobly and satisfactorily and to glorify our God and Him only. I know of men in our circles who have made great sacrifices, who at great cost to themselves and to their families have gone through poverty and misery to equip themselves for this type of work. I know of young men, some of whom are in this very room, who are making such sacrifices today in the interest of the Kingdom. But their number is still far too small. There are still too many who will travel 200 miles to see a football or basketball game, who cry "Horrors" when asked to pay $3.50 for a good book. Talk about a twisted sense of values. Can we not see from this how shallow their love for music really is after all? We need apply this not only to individuals. I wonder which would prove more profitable for our Church: to erect a social and recreational center at one of our schools at a cost of $75,000 or to spend $25,000 during the next decade to equip ten outstanding and talented products of our St. Louis and Springfield seminaries and of our two teachers’ colleges with the finest training in music and musicology they are able to get and $50,000 within the next triennium to endow in part a graduate department of church music at one of our schools? I think we are all agreed on the answer as to which would be more profitable from every point of view for the Kingdom. Oh, yes, I know there are some self-taught people in this world, people who do not need schools, people who can teach themselves (so they think), people who point to Bach and tell you he was largely self-taught, people who claim you learn more thoroughly when you plow through your studies singlehanded. But I also know that an unusually large proportion of self-taught people are frightfully self-opinionated; they cannot stand having others point out and correct their weaknesses; they are often horribly vain and one-sided; they usually lack balance, are myopic, and it often takes them years to learn what they could learn from a really good and well-seasoned teacher in one semester. Dr. Fuerbringer once told me: "Es gibt wenig Menschen die wirklich gute Autodidakten sind." Who will deny the truth of this statement? And who will deny the truth of a statement of another of my former teachers, Peter Christian Lutkin, when he remarked: "The self-made man usually worships his maker." Those who have enjoyed the privilege of being pupils of men who were truly great in their field will, I know, gladly vouch for the fact that contact with such men is truly inspiring, it humbles one and yet lifts him up, brings him to his knees and yet in due time enables him to stand on his own feet on solid ground. Bach was undoubtedly self-taught to a great extent; and yet, gentlemen, not historians and musicologists, but only the great humble and reserved Leipzig cantor himself knew what men like Reinken, Boehm, Walther, and Buxtehude had done for him. I am sure none of Bach’s pupils felt their style had been cramped by their great teacher, particularly not the younger Krebs, who had been a pupil of Bach for nine years. After all, what right have we to compare ourselves with Bach? Perhaps it takes a self-made man to do that.

We need a graduate school to which our men can go for advanced work in church music. But we need scholarly work also on the undergraduate level at our teachers’ colleges and theological seminaries. It is a pity that so many of our theologically trained men are of the opinion that church music is something altogether apart from theology and that they fail to realize the truth of Johann Walther’s words when he says that "Music is a part of theology." It makes one sad that so many believe scholarly courses in church music belong into our teachers’ colleges only, but not into our theological and pre-theological schools; it is to be deplored that articles on Lutheran church music appear very rarely in our theological journals of America. It is significant to note that scholarly courses in church music were taken by all Lutheran students of theology during the Golden Age of Lutheran Church Music, and it is interesting, too, to note that this was not an era of deterioration, but an age when the Lutheran Church was strong and great, a period when she produced also her greatest theologians. In what kind of era, do you suppose, are we living? Let us be honest and also fair in arriving at our conclusion.

I am not exaggerating when I say we Lutherans have the greatest musical heritage in the world; the Lutheran Church is the only Christian Church which has produced great music in all four fields of church music: hymns, choir music, liturgical music, organ music. We have even more to show than the Roman Catholics, the Eastern Orthodox, and the Anglicans. If our musical heritage were as meager as that of most other Christian denominations, we could hardly afford to insist on a scholarly approach to church music, since our findings would then force us to throw out most of what we have. Since, however, our heritage is so vast and important, we need also the scholarly approach to retain our heritage and to develop an appreciation of it, particularly among our own people. The scholarly approach will endanger our musical heritage just as little as it did our great theological heritage. When properly applied, it will be a boon to the spiritual life of our Church. Our music can well afford careful examination and scrutiny, just as our theology can stand checking and re-checking. We need more musical scholarship, we need it badly. Let us have it.

From The Musical Heritage of the Lutheran Church, Volume I (Valparaiso, Ind.: Valparaiso University, 1945). Reprinted by permission of Valparaiso University.

For personal use only.