Musical Hermeneutics

Bringing Musical Insights into Conversation with Biblical Hermeneutics

By Cynthia R. Nielsen

Performers and Composers as Co-creators

Bruce Ellis Benson in his book, The Improvisation of Musical Dialogue, argues that instead of choosing between Werktreu1 or a kind of musical anarchy, we should look to the past where we find a way of conceiving music composition as an event in which the composer and performer become “co-creators.”  Using Gadamar as a way to help us to begin thinking about models of music composition, Ellis writes, “Gadamer claims that an ideal dialogue has what he calls the ‘logical structure of openness.’ I think there are at least two aspects to this ‘openness.’  First, the conversation often brings something into the open:  it sheds new light on what is being discussed and allows us to think about it (or, in this case, hear it) in a new way.  Second, the dialogue is itself open, since it (to quote Gadamer) is in a ‘state of indeterminacy.’  In order for a genuine dialogue to take place, the outcome cannot be settled in advance.  Without at least some ‘loose-play’ or uncertainty, true conversation is impossible” (p. 15).  As Benson notes, Gadamar of course realizes that this is the “ideal” for conversations and that they do not always flesh out in this manner.  Likewise, in stressing “openness,” Gadamer is not suggesting that dialogues are without rules.  Rather, “the rules are what allow the conversation to take place at all.  In effect, they open up a kind of space in which dialogue can be conducted” (p. 15).  Though rules are essential for a dialogue to occur, they can be overly restrictive or more on the “open” and “flexible” side and “are themselves open to continuing modification” (p. 15).  Though today we tend to think of classical music as not particularly open, Benson shows that historically this view is relatively new and in fact is only one way, not the way to view composition.  For example, in the 1800s there were two characteristic ways of conceiving composition and these were exemplified by Beethoven and Rossini.  Though these composers represent two different styles of music, the deeper significance lies in the differing ways that they understand the nature of musical compositions, the role of the performance in expressing them, and the relation the artist and the community (p. 16).   As Benson explains, “Beethoven saw his symphonies as ‘inviolable musical “texts” whose meaning is to be deciphered with ‘exegetical’ interpretations; a Rossini score, on the other hand, is a mere recipe for a performance’ (Carl Dahlhaus, Nineteenth-Century Music, p. 9 [Benson, p. 16].  In other words, Beethoven’s view is the more recent, innovative view that has come to characterize how we think of classical music as Werktreu, whereas Rossini’s conception was significantly more flexible, allowing the performer to participate in the creative process.  Moreover, for Rossini, “it was not the work that was given precedence; rather, the work (and thus the composer) was in effect a partner in dialogue with performers and listeners” (Ibid., pp. 16-17). 

Benson on the Openness of Composing   

In chapter two Benson observes our tendency to think that a musical composition is finished when the piece (in its “final” version) is written down.  However, there are a number of assumptions that we should question in connection with such a conclusion.  For example, why assume that a process of revisions always leads to a better version, much less to the “perfect” version?  Beethoven was known for ceaselessly revising and offering a number of variants for musical passages and entire sections. Even if we grant that his revisions generally improved his work, we should not necessarily conclude that they always did.  Beethoven himself often commented that his works contained a number of imperfections that he simply had to let stand given his duties and other commitments.  As Benson points out, there are number of “nonartistic” reasons for compositions reaching a “completion” stage.  “[T]he vicissitudes of life have a way of deciding something is finished—whether or not the artist is of the same opinion” (p. 68). 

Is there a sense in which a composition becomes “fixed” and definite, or is it the case that even for the composer there is a certain “indefiniteness” and indeterminacy involved in his or her work even when the composition is “finished”?  Arguing for the latter, Benson explains that though it is the case that composers have “reasonably” definite intentions, “it would be impossible for their intentions to encompass all of the details of any given piece”(p. 67).  In other words, often or perhaps most of the time, the composer himself is unsure exactly how he wants every aspect and detail of the work to sound until the piece is actually played with a specific group and very particular instrumentation.  Mozart, for example, would at times perform different versions of the same work to a group of friends in order to seek their input as to which is preferred.  Benson proffers a number of other examples, which I will forego for brevity’s sake. 

There is also the additional complication of the performer “rightly” interpreting the composer’s intentions.  To illustrate, Benson quotes Edward Cone who comments on the difficulties performers face in playing Chopin’s music, “The performer’s first obligation, then, is to the score—but to what score?  The autograph or the first printed edition?  The composer’s hasty manuscript or the presumably more careful copy by a trusted amanuensis?  The composer’s initial version or his later emendation? [and so on]”2 (p. 70)  To be sure one might give good reasons for choosing and preferring one version over another.  But still we must recognize that performers, conductors and arrangers play a role in the process of composing, i.e., composing a work that is already “finished.” Yet, as we stated earlier, composers certainly have some definite intentions, but how extensive those intentions are is another question (as Benson asks, using Husserlian language—are they “vague” or “distinct” intentions?)  Composers can and do, for instance, change their minds about certain works over a long period of time.  Likewise, composers may not even be aware of a lack of determinacy until the work is performed.  Though dealing with verbal content, Benson cites a passage by Hirsch that is applicable to musical content, “Determinacy does not mean definiteness or precision.  Undoubtedly, most verbal meanings are imprecise and ambiguous, and to call them such is to acknowledge their indeterminacy:  they are not univocal and precise.  This is another way of saying that an ambiguous meaning has a boundary like any other verbal meaning, and that one of the frontiers on this boundary is that between ambiguity and univocality” 3(p. 74).  We tend to associate boundary with precision, so “what does it mean for an ambiguous meaning to have a ‘boundary’”? (p. 74).  As Benson points out, boundaries can of course be conceived differently.  For example, they can be thought as rigid and inflexible or in a more flexible and bending way.  This more flexible conception is the model for which Benson argues in terms of the “boundaries” of a musical work. 

 

A number of interesting parallels might be drawn from what we have highlighted in regard to Benson’s musical findings and Biblical hermeneutics.  Here I would like to widen this monologue to a larger conversation and hear your thoughts.  Specifically, what are some of the ways that we might bring Benson’s discussions above in dialogue with biblical hermeneutics—how might we understand the nature of Scripture itself and our roles as interpreters (in a community or tradition)?  In what ways might we apply (or not apply) the above musical insights to Scripture and why?

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1 A rather strict faithfulness first to the work and second to the composer.
2 Edward T. Cone, “The Pianist as Critic,” in The Practice of Performance Studies in Musical Interpretation, p. 244.
3 E.D. Hirsch, Validity in Interpretation, pp. 44-45.

 

Comments

[Jason Hesiak]

Is this an Aquinas/Calvin thing? Or a liberal/conservative thing? Or a human/divine thing? Or maybe there's some formal structure in which all of those fit to which this post speaks. "The horizon recedes as we approach it", and yet there's no life if we have nothing to die for (a question of ends/"boundaries").

[Jonathan Erdman]

As a side note....for those interested in this essay I highly recommend the whole volume of essays Hermeneutics at the Crossroads. I think there are a lot of very core issues that this book addresses.

I did a quick review and Amazon.com and also have posted a few reviews of specific essays at my blog which have spurred some good discussion. And Cynthia has also posted on at least one of these essays (to date - hopefully more in the future!). Basically what I am saying is that these essays are starting to create some buzz and for good reason. They deal with the issues of authorial intent, readers response, and the ontology of the text (just what is a text and what does it mean to communicate?). It addresses these issues with an eye on key philosophical figures like Gadamer and Derrida.

Worth the investment - go for it!

[Geoff Holsclaw]

cynthia,

thank you for this helpful summary and thoughtful reflections. The analogy between a musical score and the biblical text, and a musician and preaching is very helpful.

Now I want to draw attention to this analogy because I feel that on the side of interpretation the analogy is between a musician/conductor and the preacher, instead of say scholarly exegete. Why do I say this? Well, the scholarly exegete (involved with historical critical questions of composition, dating, relation to other texts, etc) is much closer to the historical, musical critic. Now, to be sure, an astute conductor will know much of what the critic knows, but he has to know many other things as well (as in the compentency of his musicians, his own contemporary situation, the sound of each instrument). For the conductor, each note on the score is waiting for life to be breathed (literally for many instruments) into it. But for the musical critic, the only remain notes on a page.

So for me, this analogy focuses on the performace of the score corporately, rather than on the critical status or intention historically.

The music is only such when played; the text is only the Word when preached/read.

[Jonathan Erdman]

Cynthia,

To go directly to your question: I think this is helpful as a general theory in the same way that Gadamer was helpful in general theory.

Geoff seems to be expressing a desire to put the text in play - to preach it! Agreed. But to preach we must make an interpretive move - actually several of them. We must take the text as received and contextualize it. The beauty of Benson's analogy is that it helps us better understand that each interpretive move will be different. As readers/interpreters/preachers we must be open to each interpretive moment because although interpretive rules are necessary they are also necessarily incomplete and open to revision.

That being said I think that Benson's analogy is only useful if it is utilized as we make an actual interpretive decision. This brings us back to preaching and interpreting, and when it comes back to the moment of interpretive decision Benson/Gadamer can't help us! This is no knock on B/G, it is just to say that at some point theory must meet appropriation. My problem with philosophical hermeneutics is that it gives nothing to the preacher who, by and large, is untrained as a philosophical hermeneut.

Christian philosophical hermeneuticians must become exegets and begin to make actual interpretive decisions on specific Scriptural texts or we will become irrelevant....Perhaps this is just the obvious point, however, I would like to see works that were equally devoted to hermeneutical theory and also examples of appropriating theory to specific Scriptures. As a general rule we find either abstract philosophical hermeneuticians or else we find commentators whose hermeneutic goes unstated. I'd like to see both go hand in hand a bit more often.

[Eric Lee]

Cynthia,

Great essay, thank you. Per Jonathan Erdman's comments above, the thought that comes to mind is something along the lines of: well, Gadamer and Benson can at least show us the door, and we must walk through it. I think the essay that Cynthia offered us was itself an example of this, or her other writings and performances (of jazz, although I personally haven't heard them) also fit very much into a "real example."

The thought that came to mind (which actually points to concrete examples) is the Jewish midrash. Isn't that something along the lines of what we're talking about here? Personally, I'm not that familiar with it, but the wikipedia entry on it says, "In general the Midrash is focused on either Halakhic (legal) or Aggadic (non-legal and chiefly homiletical) subject matter," which indicates that the method is not tied to a single subject matter or text.

Peace,

Eric

[Cynthia R. Nielsen]

Hello to all,

I would certainly want to shy away from suggesting any kind of “rule-book” or “this-method-only” for biblical hermeneutics and from suggesting an antithetical or dichotomous relation between theory and practice. I am also not a big fan of “application” lists tacked on to the end of sermons, as it seems to me something that can easily move into a kind of moralism—(i.e., do this and you are a good Christian, instead of be who you are in Christ, which doesn’t lend itself to “to do” lists, but requires that we apply wisdom, as each person’s situation and struggles are different and have their own unique set of circumstances). Yet, in light of the request to give some kind of “concrete” example of how one might conceive biblical hermeneutics in an “jazz” trajectory, I offer the following from my own Protestant (Reformed) tradition.

One way that we might approach biblical hermeneutics is to consider what (or who) brings unity to the two testaments (from a Christian point of view). For the Apostles, Church Fathers, medievals and many today, Christ and Christ alone brings unity to Scripture. This of course would mean adopting something more than a grammatico-historical hermeneutic. In other words, one might approach Scripture with a Christotelic focus and ask something along the lines of, “What is the significance of the death and resurrection of Christ for this passage?” In Luke 24, Jesus says that the entire Old Testament (Law, prophets, writings) speak of Him. In other words, Christ is Adam, prophet, priest, king, tabernacle, temple, etc. In fact, the New Testament writers (and Jesus) make the assumption that the New Testament and Old Testament belong together; the New Testament in fact completes the Old Testament. Here one might rightly point out that (on a strict grammatico-historical read) the Old Testament does not easily lend itself to a Christotelic interpretation. That is, the connection is not obvious when we observe how the New Testament writers handle the Old Testament because making a Christological connection involves interpretation. Moving to a concrete example of a Christotelic reading, let’s look at Matthew’s use of Hosea (Matt 2:15 and Hos 11:1). Here Matthew interprets the Hosea passage as referring to Jesus (a little “improvising” on Matthew’s part perhaps). However, Hos 11:1, in its original context has nothing to do with Jesus; rather, it is a passage about Israel being brought out of Egypt only to rebel. Clearly, Matthew did not arrive at his conclusions from a literal or “flat” reading the Old Testament. Rather, he (as do other New Testament writers) began from the event (the death and resurrection of Christ) from which all else is now to be understood. Matthew was not engaging in grammatico-historical exegesis; instead, he interprets the text through the lens of the death and resurrection of Christ. (Interestingly, as many scholars have observed, this was a common way of interpreting in the Second Temple World. For example, interpreting a text in the ancient world meant bringing the past into the present in order to explain the present. In other words, for the ancients, God’s word could not be left in the past—it must have a present meaning, which it seems to me is going to involve the art of “improvisation” on some level.

I’ve gone on for too long at this point and will end with a nice quote from Peter Enns that resonates well with what I’ve said above, “the Apostles did not arrive at the conclusion that Jesus is Lord from a dispassionate, objective reading of the OT. Rather, they began with what they knew to be true—the historical fact of the death and resurrection of the Son of God—and on the basis of that fact re-read [improvised?] their Scripture in a fresh way. There is no question that such a thing can be counter-intuitive for a more traditional evangelical doctrine of Scripture. It is precisely a dispassionate, unbiased, objective reading that is normally considered to constitute valid reading. But again, what may be considered valid today cannot be the determining factor for understanding what the Apostles did” (Enns. “Apostolic Hermeneutics,” pp. 275-276).

Cheers,
Cynthia

[Jonathan Erdman]

Very enlightening, Cynthia. Thank you.

In Benson's "The Improvisation of Hermeneutics" (Hermeneutics at the Crossroads) he makes the following point:

“A pastor is not allowed to ‘improvise’ on 1 Corinthians for a sermon in the same way that Paul was ‘allowed’ to improvise on Old Testament and early Christian texts in composing 1 Corinthians. There are ways in which an improvisation can be deemed ‘faithful’ to a text and ways in which it can be deemed ‘unfaithful.’” (205)

In the above cited article Benson is deeply interested in the ethics of interpretation: doing justice to the text and author. You (Cynthia) mentioned that the NT interpretation of the OT quite evidently improvised, reinterpreting the OT in light of what they knew: Christ's death, burial and resurrection.

It seems as though most of the Reformers employed the grammatical-historical approach to the text with deeply ethical concerns in mind: To do justice to the text and author. It is almost as though the Reformers viewed the progression of history and tradition leading the church into less improvisation.

The above Benson quote is interesting to me because while Benson speaks of improv. he also does not allow us the same kind of improv. that the NT writers were allowed. Simple question here: Why not???

Cynthia:
Do you see your own hermeneutic departing from the historical-grammatical approach of the Reformers and moving backwards towards the improv. of the NT writers? Or as you interpret texts do you find yourself more or less following the historical-grammatical approach of the Reformers?

Thanks again for your very thoughtful response.

[Cynthia R. Nielsen]

Hi Jonathan,
I would disagree that most of the Reformers were tied to a strict GH method of interpretation. Luther embraced many aspects of the Catholic four-fold sense of Scripture and Calvin read the OT Christocentrically. (Read some of Luther’s sermons, he’s a great improviser ; ).

My studies, through the influence of scholars like Heiko Oberman and Richard A. Muller, have led me to see much more continuity with the patristics and medievals (with a non-GH approach to Scripture being one aspect of such continuity) in the early Reformers, as well as the Reformed scholastics, than the previous scholarship acknowledged. Also, why think that only a GH approach does “justice” to the text and author? So in short, “no,” I do not see myself departing from a “reformed” approach to Scripture, and I see scholars like Peter Enns continuing that trajectory as well.

Cheers,
Cynthia

[Cynthia R. Nielsen]

Hello to all,

I wanted to add a brief comment/suggestion to something that Jonathan brought up in one of his responses, viz., should we engage in the same kind of “improve” as the Apostles? This is a great question. I keep mentioning Peter Enns because a good deal of my own thinking has come from his influence via Old Testament courses taken with him and his recent book, Inspiration and Incarnation: Evangelicals and the Problem of the Old Testament. Enns suggests that we should perhaps distinguish between “hermeneutical goal” (Christ) and the specifics of “exegetical method” (doing the exact same thing that the Apostles did given their Second Temple context). Because we share the same eschatological moment (i.e., a post-resurrection context) with the Apostles, we too must share the Apostles’ goal, i.e., to interpret Scripture in light of the centrality of the death and resurrection of Christ; hence, we are to engage in a Christotelic reading of Scripture, which involves “improvisation” to a certain degree as we have pointed out previously. In other words, we are called to bring the death and resurrection of Christ to bear on the OT. Here is something that I should have added to my previous comments, viz., this is not to say that we are to ignore the contours of the OT or to fail to read it “on its own terms”—certainly we should engage in a what Enns calls a “first reading” of the OT, which is more or less a GH read. However, Christian proclamation of the OT must move to a “second reading,” Christotelic reading. As to “exegetical methods,” given that we do not share the same historical Second Temple cultural context as the Apostles did (in a Second Temple context, what the Apostles were doing was considered completely “normal”; Enns gives a number of excellent examples of the kind of hermeneutical “improvisations” that were common in that time period), perhaps we should not follow them here methodologically (i.e., changing, omitting, adding words, etc.). Here perhaps GH exegesis provides a restraint (not a guarantee) against misuse of Scripture. Yet, this does not mean that the GH method should be the sole norm for how the Church reads the OT chiefly because it does not lead to a Christotelic reading (see Spinoza).

Cheers,
Cynthia

p.s. Geoff, I like your analogy between the music existing as performed and Scripture existing as preached/read.
p.s.s. Thanks to all for your feedback and for engaging this topic with me. (Eric, I think that you are onto something with your Midrash comment, but I am not well-versed
enough in that area to engage it).

[Jonathan Erdman]

Cynthia,

I was not necessarily trying to press the point that the Reformers were "tied to a strict GH method." Rather, my point was simply that there was a turn to the GH. My thought here is that it seemed as though the Reformers wanted to bring more stability and even some closure to interpretation by approaching the text in a more literal way - more literal and less improv.

So, I took a few moments to review Thiselton's perspective on the hermeneutic of the Reformation in New Horizons:

If the mature Luther uses allegory, this is usually only for homiletical or illustrative purposes, relating to what has been proved on other grounds. Luther therefore declares: “The Christian reader should make it his first task to seek out the literal sense, as they call it. For it alone is the whole substance of faith and Christian theology; it alone holds its ground in trouble and trial”…In contrast to allegory, he roundly declares, “The literal sense does it – in it there is life, comfort, power, instruction and skill. The other is tomfoolery.” (184)

Calvin is even less tolerant of allegorical interpretation than Luther. (185)

Luther leads away from the mediaeval world and points to questions of the modern era, and paves the way for fundamental questions about interpretation. (185)

In The Obedience of a Christian Man (1528) Tyndale discusses and explicitly rejects the mediaeval doctrine of the four senses of scripture. Scripture has “one simple, literal, sense, whose light the owls cannot abide…the root and ground of all.” (190)

Cynthia,
I would agree with you that the Reformers were not "tied to a strictly GH method," however, I do think that there was a significant shift in this time period. And while I would not want to create an artificial dichotomy between the Reformers and earlier interpretive approaches I nonetheless believe that there was a shift and that this shift led many conservative Protestant interpreters to a very rigid hermeneutic; an interpretative approach that excluded the kind of improv that Benson suggests.

The question I am interested in having you comment on is whether this shift toward GH and away from improv was simply a corrective for that historical time period, or whether it should represent a permanent shift away from improv and towards closure of interpretation.

Observe the methodology of running commentary that Calvin, in particular, helped to introduce. To me, a commentary suggests closure and a limitation to improv. Commenting on a text suggests that the commentators perspective is superior to the perspectives of those who would follow. The history of Calvin's commentaries amongst some Reformed circles (at least some of those I have been a part of) suggest this is true with Calvin's comments attaining almost canonical status.

[Cynthia R. Nielsen]

Hi Jonathan,

Thanks for "resurrecting" this conversation. As to Thiselton’s remarks, again I would have to say that there is a good deal of contemporary, historical research (H. Oberman, D. Steinmetz, R. Muller) that would strongly contest his claims. Luther, e.g., was very much a medieval man who could not help but “breathe the air” of his late medieval context. He was after all, a doctor of theology, which meant (among other things) that he wrote a commentary on Peter Lombard’s Sentences (1509-1510), read deeply in Aristotle’s Physics, Metaphysics, and Ethics, and wrote lectures on the Psalms (1513-15), St. Paul’s letters to the Romans (1515-16) and to the Galatians (1516-17). Preparation and execution of such lectures, of course, necessitated a thorough acquaintance with medieval biblical commentaries. In addition, Luther annotated works by St. Augustine, Tauler and Gabriel Biel. Luther, of course, does differ with his nominalist professors—e.g., he stresses the need for divine illumination over Biel’s accent on prudential. Examples could be multiplied. The quotes that you cite from Thiselton, given that I have them out of context, appear to me as overgeneralized and facile conclusions. (This is not to speak against Thiselton in general, as his work in hermeneutics is much appreciated).

The kind of rigid hermeneutic that you seem to be describing sounds to me more like what I have encountered in strict, fundamentalist circles—often those adopting a dispensational framework and who insist that we read the Scriptures on the whole extremely literally. When Luther says that the literal sense has primacy, one could also point to St. Thomas who says the same thing—yet both mean something very different than what a fundamentalist would mean. As mentioned previously, Luther accepts aspects of the quadriga (four-fold sense of Scripture) and even criticized those who read the Scripture in a wooden literalist way. As Oberman highlights in his work, Dawn of the Reformation, to insist on the literal sense (sensus litere) is for Luther to read Scripture as an unbeliever (consider Spinoza as a case in point)! Reading Scripture with the understanding of faith (sensus fidei) excels the sensus litere (p. 147). The kind of GH reading that e.g., B. Spinoza introduced, which has great affinities with the fundamentalist/dispensational approach would in my opinion lead to the kind of “closed-no-imrpov” model that you suggest, as one of presupposition of such a hermeneutic is that there is only one, univocal meaning—so you have a kind of flattening of the text which harmonizes well with a “thin” metaphysic.

Regarding your last comment on commentaries suggesting a closed model, I would argue just the opposite. Commentaries can also point to a continued tradition—one that is on-going, that builds on those who came before, and that does not have the “final” word. P.W. Rosemann makes a good case for this “open” commentary idea in his book, Understanding Scholastic Thought with Foucault. As to Calvin (since you singled him out), he was in constant dialogue with other Reformers (e.g., Vermigli) and often changed his position as a result of such dialogues. I do think, however, that you point to a problem with some of the older scholarship, viz., the exaltation of Calvin as “the” standard by which Reformed orthodoxy is to be judged. As Muller has shown, the Reformation from the beginning was a pluriform movement, as was Protestant scholasticsm, and it continues to be a diverse expression of a tradition today. Hence, it is a mistake to take one of the “famous” early Reformers (a Luther or a Calvin) and set them up as archetypes. I think that Calvin himself would agree.

Kind regards,
Cynthia