Fear paralyzes, especially when used in teaching. I’ve had teachers who have put the fear of God in me, but I never found them to be terribly effective. However, fear is a common educational tool. Call it “old school,” but I think it’s time for some “new school.”

My grandparents attended a Pentecostal church, and occasionally we visited. It was Bible-thumping, hellfire, and brimstone. I remember it frightened me, never motivated me or opened my mind to possibility. The insinuation of such “teaching” was that something was wrong, and if I didn’t do something to fix it, there would be grave penalties. But idle threats lose their effectiveness.  

Today’s offertory anthem is a sweet reminder of how to teach. It’s by American composer, Eugene Englert, who said of his music, “I have derived great satisfaction in knowing that so many of my works have been sung in churches throughout this country and others. Hopefully, they are helping people to worship God better through music.” Sounds like Englert’s a teacher – helping people to better understand God. There’s the key – help. Fear doesn’t help but only hinders understanding.

I like anthems like this – soft, simple, and meaningful. They coax the listener out of a slack-jawed malaise, offering a gentle pathway to divine knowledge. If you turn off the TV, stop the noise, and just sit in nature, you wonder, “What is everyone so afraid of?” Music like this makes you question the sanity of fear. Its simplicity lulls you into a kind of serene docility that only music, silence, and nature can do. It’s spiritual food that seeps in unassumingly – nourishing, edifying, and uplifting. It calls forth the spirit in wisps of Truth. Fear closes the spirit, freezing its whimsical effervescence.  

The words are adapted from a prayer by Alcuin of York, a clergyman who lived from c. 735–834. In 782, he was asked to join Charlemagne’s court. In his role as adviser, he questioned the emperor’s policy of forcing pagans to be baptized or else face death. He argued that “Faith is a free act of the will, not a forced act. We must appeal to the conscience, not compel it by violence. You cannot force [people] to believe.” In 787, the death penalty for paganism was revoked. Sounds like Alcuin was an effective teacher for such a “powerful” emperor! The quiet voice of persuasion can change nations and soften the harshest individuals. This is how you affect change as a teacher – creatively.   

Spiritual teaching must appeal to the conscience through gentle, creative inducement. We learned this from Jesus, who imparted wisdom by crafting clever stories. The cat won’t come to you if you demand or threaten her. You must become supple, and she will come, but in her own way and in her own time.

I’ve had enough “old school” fire and brimstone. The “new school,” which is really the ancient school, can be learned in the story of Elijah. “After the earthquake came a fire, but the LORD was not in the fire. And after the fire came a gentle whisper.” When we step back from the earthquake and the fire, we always come to a unitive knowledge of God’s abiding peace. A person’s best cannot be extracted by thumping them or the bible. It can only be coerced, gently, creatively, and with lots of love and patience. What great lessons we learn in supple music like this, if only we practice what it “preaches.”  Soli Deo Gloria!