Making Congregational Music Local in Christian Communities Worldwide

Monique M. Ingalls, Muriel Swijghuisen Reigersberg, Zoe C. Sherinian, Monique M. Ingalls, Muriel Swijghuisen Reigersberg, Zoe C. Sherinian

• Publisher: Routledge
• Year: 2018
• ISBN:
  9781351391689
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Medien & darstellende Kunst
• Subtopic: Ethnomusikologie

What does it mean for music to be considered local in contemporary Christian communities, and who shapes this meaning? Through what musical processes have religious beliefs and practices once 'foreign' become 'indigenous'? How does using indigenous musical practices aid in the growth of local Christian religious practices and beliefs? How are musical constructions of the local intertwined with regional, national or transnational religious influences and cosmopolitanisms?

Making Congregational Music Local in Christian Communities Worldwide explores the ways that congregational music-making is integral to how communities around the world understand what it means to be 'local' and 'Christian'. Showing how locality is produced, negotiated, and performed through music-making, this book draws on case studies from every continent that integrate insights from anthropology, ethnomusicology, cultural geography, mission studies, and practical theology. Four sections explore a central aspect of the production of locality through congregational music-making, addressing the role of historical trends, cultural and political power, diverging values, and translocal influences in defining what it means to be 'local' and 'Christian'. This book contends that examining musical processes of localization can lead scholars to new understandings of the meaning and power of Christian belief and practice.

Part I

Engaging musical pasts

Continuity and change in congregational song practices

1 The saints who sing and dance

Enchanting subjunctive visions in Southeast Brazil

Suzel Ana Reily

‘Then Our Lady told the Three Kings to return to the Orient singing along the way to announce the birth of the Baby Jesus’.

(A devotee of the Three Kings)

‘Saint Gonçalo likes to see everyone happy, everyone dancing, eating. That’s why he invented a dance. He played his viola for everyone to dance’.

(A devotee of Saint Gonçalo)

‘The drum is a sacred instrument. It belongs to Saint Benedict [the Black]…. He gave [it] to our ancestors’.

(A devotee of Our Lady of the Rosary and Saint Benedict)

Throughout Brazil many of the Catholic saints that have become the focus of popular devotion, particularly among the subaltern classes, are said to have been musicians and dancers when they walked the earth. These representations do not tend to be shared by officials of the Roman Catholic Church in the country. Rather, they are typically seen as ‘folk’ or ‘vernacular’ forms of religiosity, setting them in opposition to official Catholicism. Given that many folk Catholic practices involve music, dance and festivity – activities commonly classed as play – vernacular Catholicism is generally dismissed by the clergy. Yet, from the perspective of practitioners, these expressions of devotion constitute embodied practices that are embedded in everyday life. In effect, they are modes of ‘lived religion’ (McGuire 2006; Orsi 1997), in that, as shall be shown in this chapter, they ground the devotees’ understandings of the sacred to a moral framework premised on notions of reciprocity and human equality.

The concept of ‘lived religion’ is commonly adopted as a means of subverting the opposition between official theology and vernacular beliefs, which sets up a hierarchy between these spheres. Lived religion, then, highlights the meanings religious activities have for devotees, regardless of their degree of orthodoxy. Yet, with regard to Catholicism in Brazil, it is crucial to remember that, since colonial times, church officials have been investing – often in heavy-handed ways – against those forms of lived religion they have classed as heretical (Gaeta 1997; Souza 2008). Thus, even as one strives to view these alternative Catholicisms as modes of lived religion, the legacy of an oppositional relationship between folk and official Catholicism marks many aspects of contemporary vernacular practice. The very focus on such ‘frivolous’ activities as musicking and dancing present folk Catholicism as harmless play, despite its unorthodox character, protecting it from intense clerical surveillance (Scott 1990). Even so, many vernacular Catholic practices take place away from the gaze of the clergy, and often have no prescribed role for a priest.

Although dominant voices may see play in opposition – and secondary – to work, academics who investigate play have emphasised its centrality to human life. In identifying humanity as ‘homo ludens’, for instance, Johan Huizinga defined play as an innate human capacity essential to human survival (Huizinga 1955). For Victor Turner (1986, 32), play constitutes a ‘subjunctive mode’; that is, it invokes potentialities, that which could be. Through play, he argued, one develops creativity and the ability to envisage new realities.

The ‘play’ within popular Catholicism, as in the modes of ritual organisation in many parts of the world, particularly in vernacular and localised religious spheres, often centres around music and dance, and more specifically it commonly involves ensembles performing in a more or less participatory fashion, so that many – if not all – participants are integrated into the ritual drama.¹ As I have argued elsewhere (Reily 2002, 3):

[P]articipatory musical performance provides a means of orchestrating religious ritual in such a way as to allow participants to proclaim their religious truths at the same time as their co-ordinated interactions during music-making recreate the social ideals embodied in their religious tenets.

a mode of ritual orchestration I have referred to as ‘enchantment.’ In effect, enchantment can be understood as a subjunctive mode; more specifically, the subjunctive world enchanted through intense participatory ritual musicking can be experienced as a momentary glimpse of the harmonious, utopian social order envisaged in religious discourse.

This chapter investigates marginal spheres of lived religion that are structured through participatory musicking. I will be focussing on communities of devotees in Southeast Brazil, which I shall refer to as ‘independent congregations,’ that is, relatively stable groups of people who congregate regularly around a shared religious ritual practice, rather than an officially sanctioned service. Such congregations are prevalent across the country and form a significant percentage of the Catholics in many dioceses, particularly in rural communities and low-income neighbourhoods. Since these communities are highly localised, their devotional practices take on localised forms cobbled together out of a range of elements of an available repertoire, which, through continuous processes of selection and negotiation, are adapted and readapted to the daily lives and aspirations of the community making use of them.

The chapter will present three distinct devotional traditions to show how the subjunctive spheres they enchant articulate with the specificities of their congregations. It will be argued that in subaltern contexts where state support is minimal, the construction of community within subjunctive modes of sociality is a particularly effective strategy for establishing networks of mutual support, while also promoting feeling of belonging and a sense that life is worth living.

Folias de Reis

Throughout Brazil one can hear stories in which the Magi are represented as musicians. In a particularly common Southeastern version of this representation, it is said that in exchange for their gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh, Our Lady presented the Kings with musical instruments when they arrived at the manger. She gave one a viola (five-coursed guitar), another a tambourine (pandeiro) and the third a caixa (drum). She then instructed them to return to the Orient singing along the way to announce the birth of Jesus.

Mummer-like ensembles known as folias de reis re-enact this narrative, and, as a group of musicians, they make visitations, which are also structured around a reciprocal exchange: the folia blesses the family in the name of the Kings and the family gives the folia a donation to help stage a festival which unites the devotees of the Kings in the region in which the ensemble circulates. These ritual visitations generally begin on Christmas Eve at the home of the festeiro, the sponsor of the journey. The ensemble ‘travels’ for twelve days carrying the banner of the Three Kings, finally returning to the festeiro’s home at the end of the ‘journey,’ where the festival is held. A good festival should have an abundance of food, merry-making and music for social dancing throughout the night.

There are folia de reis traditions throughout Brazil, but in each region distinct musical styles are employed. In Southeast Brazil, these ensembles generally perform toadas, that is, sung melodic sequences whose texts are improvised by the embaixador, the musical leader of the ensemble. The word ‘embaixador’ means ‘ambassador’, highlighting the folia’s role as an emissary of the Three Kings. A common form of the toada is known as the ‘mineiro style’ (estilo mineiro), that is, the style from Minas Gerais, which is easily recognised by the ‘little yell’ (gritinho) that ends each melodic cycle. This musical form is usually constructed around six to eight vocal parts, which make successive entrances, with each vocal configuration performing a register above the previous singer(s). This cumulative process leads ultimately to a prolonged major chord that marks the end of each round of the toada. Thus, the voices come in one after the other, and the sound becomes progressively denser until it finally erupts into the final chord.²

Numerous foliões (folia members) told me that singing in such an ensemble is an extremely enjoyable experience in which one does not even feel the time go by. According to one embaixador, being in a folia is ‘a bath for the soul’ (um banho para a alma); another claimed that he could forget all his troubles and ‘leave everything aside’ (deixar tudo de lado). These claims suggest that, as they repeat the toada over and over and over again, foliões experience ‘flow’ (Csikszentmihalyi 1990), a pleasurable psychological state that sets in when people become so absorbed in what they are doing that they lose all sense of time and self.³

At visitations, the family participates in the ritual through their position as recipients of the blessings. When a folia arrives at someone’s home, the head of the household goes to meet the ensemble outside the house, takes the banner and leads the group into the drawing room. The family gathers around the banner, which is seen as the embodiment of the Three Kings, and they face the musicians, who then begin to sing. Thus, as the family stands in direct contact with the saints, their message is presented in the verses of the singers (see Figure 1.1).

As people receive the blessing, they become the focal point of the ritual moment. Since folia texts are improvised, they can refer to the immediate circumstances of the performance. Blessings, therefore, can highlight aspects of devotees’ personal biographies, invoking the community’s collective memory of each of its members. In effect, blessings allow each member of the community to become the centre of attention, and as they stand before the group, their personhood is collectively acknowledged. During the blessing, they are also embraced by the music. Given that folias typically perform in small, cramped spaces, the volume can be overwhelming and the vibrations set in motion generate bodily sensations that some experience as a powerful divine presence. These sensations grow as the successive voices enter the ensemble, culminating, at each round of the toada, as the ensemble attacks the final chord. The person being blessed carries the weight of the banner, both its physical and it symbolic weight, whilst being engulfed by powerful voices that invoke dimensions of the self in terms of collective values. For many people this experience is so overwhelming that they are unable to hold back the tears. To reciprocate for the blessing, and the intense, memorable experience it entails, families are compelled to make a donation to the festival. This is then duly acknowledged by the foliões, who thank the family, again through song.

Figure 1.1 A folia visitation, Campanha, Minas Gerais, 2004.

Photo: Suzel Reily

At the final festival, the full congregation is physically united and the resources they donated are collectively consumed in a pleasurable environment marked by music, dancing and merry-making. The festival materialises the network of exchanges mediated by the folia during their journey. One could argue, then, that the underlying message of the folia tradition is that reciprocity forms the foundation of a moral community concerned with the well-being of its members. The original exchange upon which the ritual exchanges in the folia tradition are based took place when the Kings received instruments in exchange for presents. In effect, the Kings were given the means for making music, and the folia tradition creates a ritual setting for experiencing this divine gift: the means for instating a social world marked by joy, generosity and harmonious relations.

The Saint Gonçalo dance

Throughout Brazil, devotion to Saint Gonçalo of Amarante centres around a dance. He is commonly depicted playing a viola, which contributes toward his reputation as a festive and fun-loving saint (see Figure 1.2). In the folk narratives surrounding this thirteenth-century historical figure, it is said that on Saturday nights he rounded up the women of ill repute who worked in Amarante, Portugal, and danced with them until dawn, accompanying their movements on his instrument. By keeping them occupied all night long, he hoped to tire them out so they would refrain from sinning at least on Sundays. He engaged the women every Saturday until they were able to find a husband and thereby become respectable. For this reason, Saint Gonçalo is thought to assist in finding husbands for old maids and widows, but he can also be invoked to cure illnesses of the legs, since people with leg problems will find it difficult to dance with him.

Figure 1.2 Image of São Gonçalo de Amarante. Carved by Fátima Ximeses Pinto, Campanha, Minas Gerais.

Photo: Antônio Ribeiro, used with permission

As with other performative modes of Brazilian vernacular Catholicism, in many places a more or less organised local network has formed around the devotion to this saint, but there is considerable variation in the practices employed from one community to the next. In some regions, particularly in rural areas, a Saint Gonçalo dance can be organised within any popular Catholic event, but some devotees stage all-night dances specifically dedicated to him. This was how a community in Greater São Paulo operated when I documented their activities in the late 1980s.⁴ This group of people – which I shall refer to as ‘Dona Mariquinha’s congregation,’ as Dona Mariquinha was their matriarch – met at lea...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Title
• Copyright
• Contents
• List of figures
• List of tables
• List of contributors
• Introduction: music as local and global positioning: how congregational music-making produces the local in Christian communities worldwide
• Part I Engaging musical pasts: continuity and change in congregational song practices
• Part II Congregational music and the politics of indigeneity
• Part III Rifts, reconciliation, and coexistence: congregational music-making in the diverse locale
• Part IV Christian musical cosmopolitanisms: producing the local across racial and national lines
• Index