There is an ongoing debate about music in churches — religious music. The debate centers around rock music and older, more traditional style of music found in the hymns of yesteryear. I have pointed out elsewhere that the trouble is there are no standards by which to make the decision. In language you have grammar and syntax rules that help you determine what is “good” literature. But in music, the older grammar and syntax rules have long gone. Hardly anyone knows what they are, and so the music debate is now about how I “feel” about music, or what I just happen to like or dislike and not about “rules” of grammar and syntax.

But here’s something I have not seen included in the discussion. It has nothing to do with music, but it does have something to do with acoustics.

I’m reading the book, Why Johnny Can’t Sing Hymns: How Pop Culture Rewrote the Hymnal. It’s a good read on the problem of religious music today, and offers some relevant suggestions.

But in my observation it is not the fact that Johnny can’t sing — it’s the fact that he doesn’t sing. Or if he does, he does not do it very well.

There are numerous reasons to explain this, such as the decline of singing generally in the home where most kids will get their love for, and ability, to sing. Thus, in adult life they are continuing what was done in childhood.

There are also the musical issues that relate to style of music. Contemporary religious music, with its syncopated rhythms, harmonic movements that often defy musical relationships, and melodies that are designed for individuals not groups, lends itself to the problem. Add to this the fact that the music might relatively new, the overhead projection system does not give him musical notes to follow — not that it matters if he can’t read music — and he has to guess what is coming next in the melody.

But there is another problem, one which I have experienced as a performer on stage. When the Sydney Opera House opened its doors in 1973 after almost a decade of political wrangling between the state government and the design architect, who was eventually fired from the job, it was a flop. It looked great inside and outside, but for those of us who got to perform on stage it was disastrous. Why? You could not hear yourself. For an accompanist, this is deadly. For if you cannot hear the soloist, you don’t know if you’re playing too loud, drowning out the performer — or too soft, not giving the soloist the support he needs.

Somewhere along the path of construction, the acoustics of the major concert hall became lost in the battle between Jorn Utzon, the Danish architect, and those who completed the project, state government employees. The outcome is that the performer could not hear himself or herself adequately while performing. This was a problem for acoustic singers, not those who used microphones and speakers.

But instrumentalists and orchestral members struggled to balance their performances and create the nuances of sound that make for a great performance. Audience could hear quite well; the sound traveled away from the stage quite magnificently, so attending a concert was, and remains, a great sound experience.

In many contemporary church buildings the same acoustic problem exists, not just on stage, but now throughout the whole sanctuary. You cannot hear yourself sing. They were not designed with the idea that the congregation members should hear themselves sing. Rather, the contemporary church building is designed for speaker systems, electronics, and a sound level way beyond the bounds of decency.

So when Johnny arrives at church and he has the opportunity to sing, he is not only hindered by a lack of youthful singing and an inability to read music, but since he cannot hear his own voice in the crowd, he doesn’t sing. Well, not very well, anyway. And he as no incentive to try. He cannot tell how well he is doing because he cannot hear himself. The acoustics in the building are not designed for that to happen. In fact, they are designed so that it won’t happen, and the crowd on stage with the microphones and amplification will be heard over everything.

The Sydney Opera House resolved its problem with a set of acoustic rings that are suspended from the ceiling above the stage to reflect the sound back down to the performers. It is a satisfactory, if not ideal, arrangement.

But contemporary church buildings don’t have that option. They need to be rebuilt — starting on the inside.