Is Black Church Music Slowly Disappearing?

Father, I stretch my hands to thee, no other help I know. If thou withdraw thyself from me, Lord whither shall I go.

Part prayer, part poem, the gospel hymn, “Father, I Stretch My Hands to Thee” by Charles Wesley, an 18th-century Christian theologian, is a staple of Black church liturgy, yet easily transcends race and creed to make praying easier in troublesome times. And it’s been a part of  Marco Merrick’s life since childhood. 

“Before I heard it sung, I heard it quoted,” says Merrick, a music teacher, music historian, and founding director of the Community Concert Choir of Baltimore. “Because in the 1960s church in which I grew up, all too often when someone stood or knelt to pray, they would usually start with the text of a hymn,” often that one.

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But Merrick worries that “Father I Stretch My Hands to Thee,” and other traditional hymns could go the way of funeral-home fans and women in fancy hats. The collective Black church doesn’t sing that hymn, or other traditional songs from eras past, all that much anymore.

In a modern technological era, in which megachurches that can seat thousands have bands as well as stage and sound systems that rival what you’d find at a rock concert, the simple act of a Black congregation singing together from a hymnal is becoming a lost part of worship. 

Even smaller churches have “praise bands” playing hymns to an audience rather than accompanying a congregation singing together from a  hymnal. And when traditional choirs perform, they are as likely to sing songs written by modern superstars like Kirk Franklin or Donnie McClurkin than a hymn written two or three centuries ago.  

What’s missing is “the poetic, profound communication with God that was the center point of the Black church experience that started through our own struggle, having been brought here as chattel slaves,” Merrick says. Through music, he says, Black churches enabled liberation culture to proliferate the world over.

The concern is that the Black church’s rich history and culture — music that guided slaves to freedom, reflected the determination of civil rights marchers, and became a common language for many Black people — will be lost to future generations.

William Patrick Alston, an organist, church musician, and public school music teacher in Baltimore, says when he was a young churchgoer, he absorbed and memorized the sacred music and language almost without thought. 

“When we went to church, you went with the flow. You learned those hymns whether you wanted to or not,” Alson says. “But as you got older, those experiences made more sense. They ‘hit different’ because now you’re experiencing that.” 

By hearing and learning old-school hymns, “You now understand the reason and the rationale behind grandma’s moan, behind granddaddy’s groan,” Alston says. 

The tradition taught people to pray and praise by mimicking the prayers of the elders.

Alston says the change in sacred Black music aligns with changes the church has undergone in recent decades, becoming more casual and less authoritarian.

“We embraced the trend of the megachurch movement in the 1990s where we saw an attachment and an attraction to worship of other cultures and took away the intimidation factors,” Alston says. Adopting new ways of worshiping meant modifying or getting rid of things seen as stuffy or old-fashioned.

“But in so doing, we lost the treasure, and it’s been a pain for me to observe,” Alston says.  “So I started an organization called ‘Hands in Harmony’ in 2007 to train young musicians who hadn’t had formal lessons in college, not only to read music, but to play in churches that have liturgy so they could understand the worth of that.”

Alston said the goal is to teach musicians who understand traditional music that others might not know how to play.

“The reason they don’t sing Gloria Patri in a Methodist church is not because they don’t know who Sister Gloria Patri is; it’s because the musicians don’t know the song,” Alston says. “And it’s only eight measures.”

Colin Lett, director of vocal studies at Suitland High School in Prince George’s County, Maryland, says the demise of Black sacred music creates a missing link in a previously  unbroken cultural chain. 

 “It’s more than just words to a particular hymn,” he says. “It’s the power and the ethos of a people that get woven into the song that is not on paper. It’s a spiritual expression that takes place.”

Marcus Smith, minister of music at the Ark Church and choral director for the Baltimore City College Choir, notes that Ephesians 5:19-20 instructs speaking to one another in songs, hymns, and spiritual songs and making melody in your heart to the Lord.

“The first part alludes to speaking to one another, that some type of communication is going on,” Smith says. “That part seems to be lost with the praise and worship leader worshiping and the congregation just standing here, not really participating,” said 

Congregational worship, Smith says, should be all of us lifting our hands and speaking love and speaking praises together.

Although he has nothing against praise and worship teams and choirs, “I think we just need to find a way to engage people a little bit more,” Smith says. “So that at the end of the day, it is not just performance of one group for the entire congregation. It’s offering our shared praise and thanksgiving as gifts before God.” 

The entire conversation is available on Faithfully Speaking, a video production of Word In Black.