Thoughts on Tehillah

(Egads! I haven't posted for almost two weeks! I entirely blame my increased workload; putting off reading Ulysses takes a lot of work and effort! So yes, my posts will be sparse for a time, but I'll try to keep them coming and/or interesting enough to tide over till the next one)

The last Monday I was in Calgary I joined one of my old friends in attending Tehillah Monday for the first time in a very long time. For those of you who don’t know what Tehillah (pronounced like Tequila but with an h instead of q. Endless jokes ensue.) is exactly, it is described on their website as a “city-wide gathering for young adults who would be able to seek and worship God in a way relevant to their generation”. The word Tehillah is Hebrew, meaning to praise or to sing. Its format is quite similar to that of a church—worship, announcements, tithe, more worship, sermon—but it is not labeled as a church. Rather its website deems it a “multi-denominational expression”.

I’ve had a lot of history with Tehillah. I first attended it when I was around 10 years old but at the time I didn’t really understand it. I would go occasionally while growing up for big events and such, but it wasn’t until I was 16-17 that I started going regularly. Tehillah meant a lot to me because it was the first time I actively decided to go to a “church” separate from my parents (I have to use quotations as you’ll see later). By the time I was 18 I could count at least 20 close friends who attended it with me and it became a community thing as well. Every Monday meant Tehillah followed by McFlurries at McDonalds and a discussion of the sermon. It was something that I was able to get genuinely excited about, like not even Christian excited, but like for real tell-all-your-friends-about-it excited, which in and of itself was exciting. When I left for Spain in 2009 it meant leaving Tehillah which was something that I was dreading. I had found a place where I was comfortable, where I had community, and where I truly felt God, and now I had to leave it.

Looking back on my time at Tehillah after I had left was certainly an eye-opening experience. While reviewing what Tehillah was to me, I realized it was unhealthy for two very pertinent reasons:

One: It was becoming more about the people than the sermon. This is a tricky one because I believe that church should absolutely be about community. I could write a lot more on what I think a church should look like, but for right now I will just stick with this observation. Going to Tehillah became more of a status than a place of worship. All the cool kids went to Tehillah ergo you were cool if you went to Tehillah. Community is essential in a church, yet, while it is important, if the community is becoming a status symbol, then that is unhealthy.

My second reason, and more the point of this blog, is the music. Yup, I’m getting into the Christian music debate. I won’t dive in, but I do want to touch on it. Again, for those of you who don’t know what Tehillah’s music is like, I can best describe it kind of like a Christian rock show. I have to be choosy with my words, but the music has been described as flashy, over-the-top, and emotionally manipulative. Objective descriptions would be that it is very loud (like really loud) and the band makes an effort to play songs that are current.

I’ve had a lot of discussions with a lot of people about the effects of emotionalism on worship music. Emotionalism being quite literally defined as “an inclination to rely on or place too much value on emotion, as opposed to resorting to reason when dealing with reality”. I will give you this: I am an emotional guy. Shocking, I know. I am very physically, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually moved by music and am aware that it has a large effect on me. Sixteen-year-old me was not as aware of this fact as I am now. Music is a powerful tool that can be incredibly effective, suggestive, and even manipulative.

So it is powerful and it is dangerous. At the time, I knew that I loved the music, I loved the freedom, the worship seemed genuine, and that all of this made God seem so much more real. But, like the community, it became more about the music than the reason for why we were worshipping. This is not a new thing. You are going to encounter this conflict no matter what denomination or church you attend; music will always have the potential to distract from the worship. It’s just that at Tehillah, it’s a lot easier because there is so much effort put into the production of the music. The band is tight, the musicians are skilled and dressed in the latest fashions, the sound guy is attentive and constantly adjusting, and there is an appropriate amount of lights dimming and ebbing and flowing. I’ll have to sadly admit that there were times where we went just for the worship and then left because we didn’t want to listen to the boring sermon. It became more of a concert, an emotional high to get hopped up on the Jesus train (haha yup, that just happened), and then a good cooling down at McDonalds.

This “emotional high” (a phrase that is simultaneously over-used and under-acknowledged in the Christian community) became the status of my walk with God. I have lived a very up and down rollercoastery faith. Without diving into my entire testimony I will say that I had spiritual highs and spiritual lows not unlike that of most young Christians. I don’t think this is necessarily a bad thing, it is just… undeveloped. It is very much how a 15-year-old relationship runs: there are romantic gestures followed by fickle fighting followed by declarations of unabashed love followed by tears followed by moving on (well at least that’s what my one-week long grade 9 relationship taught me). There are many things in this world that exploit the emotional vulnerability of kids and Christian services sadly aren’t exempt from that fact. I’m assuming that many Christians grew up as I did, accepting the fact that there will be times where you’ll be drastically on fire for God and times when you couldn’t care less. I’m not saying that “more mature” relationships don’t have these droughts and flames, it is just that they there is a better underlying understanding that there is a solidity underneath all of the rollercoaster action. Music, unfortunately, only amplifies these highs and lows. As a youth I rode that ‘coaster willingly, re-committing my life to Christ to the pounding drums of Hillsongs’ “The Stand” then drowning my sorrows in James Blunts’ “Goodbye My Lover” then finding new direction in Chris Tomlin’s “Amazing Grace (My Chains are Gone)” only to drop the ball and do laps angrily around my block to some Disciple or Skillet song (cause I wasn’t actually rebellious enough to listen to dark secular music). Ten points for pop culture references.

My point I guess is this: music and all its flashy effects (whether that means blasting speakers or candlelit ballads), can be a negative influence and an unhealthy opening into a fickle faith, but it is not a bad thing in and of itself. After realizing how emotionally-driven my faith had become largely due to Tehillah I swore off of it for a while and realized that I needed to find something more solid. After going back the other Monday I realized some very important things:

1. 1.    In defense of Tehillah, it is not a church, nor should it be looked at as one. It should not be the only source of spiritual input in a person’s life and has never claimed that it should be. But back to my topic at hand:
2. Truth is truth. In “Velvet Elvis”, Rob Bell talks about how truth is truth no matter what its source. I take that to mean: if the worship leader is acting and the set is fake and the people aren’t honest, that doesn’t mean that I can’t find honesty in the lyrics of the songs. This is hard to accept—that there are places of worship in this world that aren’t focused on God—but let’s be serious, they’re there. It’s hard and frustrating when a community is leading you in a different direction than where you want to go, but that doesn’t mean you can’t go the other way. My relationship with God is a personal one and, with a lot of effort put into discernment and humble listening to God, it is between Him and me to decide where it’s going to go.
3.  Music is powerful and music is strong and music is good. Yes, it appeals to the emotions, but that isn’t wrong. God designed humans to love music and all its overwhelming passion. Yes, you should be discerning. Yes, you should analyze what you’re singing prior to singing it. But after those checks have been done, I believe that you are fully free to get washed up in the glory of it all. This generally results in me having to go to the back of the church so as not to disturb other people. Canadians are often scolded for not having the passion that a lot of South American/African countries have, and I think a lot of it is because we’re so worried about offending or worried about stepping on other peoples’ toes (literally and theologically).

So yes, Tehillah is not perfect. I can’t defend every sermon or worship song that has ever been sung there, but I can defend the freedom it promotes. I’d almost rather see the pendulum swing too far onto the side of radical and passionate because at least then there would be motion.