An Agnostic Sings Christmas Carols

by Howard Nelson
Poplar Ridge Meeting

Our Mennonite neighbors came to sing carols for us. About twenty people, parents and children, out on the porch. Martha was leading, setting the note with the pitch pipe before each song, keeping the rhythm with her hand moving up and down, side to side. They sang in their plainsong style. We stood in the doorway, listening. The people, the singing, the cold night behind and around them… it was beautiful. When they had sung their last song, we handed them a plate of my wife’s chocolate chip cookies, which they passed around. They thanked us, we thanked them… they went off into the dark and got into their cars (all black or gray—they drive no bright colors) and went on to other houses. 

The impulse to get rid of music was not one of the better impulses in the history of Quakerism. Our sister sect, or you might say our second-cousin sect (depending on where you are sitting in Quakerism), Mennonites kept music strongly. Hymn singing—what a great way to be together and praise the Lord. Sitting in silence is good, can be more than good—but where are you without some music? It might be a rather dour, brittle place.

Another Quaker impulse—having no creeds—seems to me a much better impulse. When I find myself in a situation where I’m supposed to say, for example, The Apostles’ Creed, I can’t help saying inwardly, line by line, “Well, I don’t believe that… I don’t believe that….” Which I guess defeats the purpose of a creed. Or, “For God so loved the world, that he gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believes in him shall have everlasting life.” A nice thought, which you can call faith, or a deep dream, or believing what you want to believe. If it helps you live a good life, and feel better about things in general, that’s great, but… it’s a pretty big claim. Not a theology that I personally relate to, which is one that describes reality as far as I can see it.

The meeting I have been a part of for fifty years, Poplar Ridge Monthly Meeting, has a flexible format that includes three basic elements: words (spoken messages, readings, queries); silence; and music (hymns, piano prelude and interlude, sometimes other offerings). We have had a string of musicians over the years who have enriched the meeting experience enormously. Week to week, the proportions given to each element vary. I feel fortunate to be in a religious group and practice that has all three. I would not want to give up any of them. Some of the hymns in the hymnal we use, Worship in Song: A Friends Hymnal, give me the theology willies, or I could call it “cognitive dissonance,” but I sing anyway. When I stop and think about it, I realize that if it weren’t for our hymn-singing, I might not sing at all through the whole week. And singing is, I think, generally speaking, good for the soul. 

Creeds and orthodox theology, when expressed in Christmas carols—that’s a different effect entirely. No problem with “I don’t believe that” while listening to, or better still, singing, “Hark! The Herald Angels,” “Silent Night,” or “Joy to the World.”