How to get church readings right

It is that time of year when people in churches across the land have to face the difficult question of how to read scripture out loud. I count myself a bit of an expert in this, not because I have had to do it many times for some thirty-five years, but because I have seen everything go wrong that can go wrong.

It is like the fear that engulfs me when-ever an unaccompanied treble kicks off the first verse of “Once in Royal David’s City” at the service’s start. If the treble goes off-key in that solo verse, one of the great black holes in the universe opens up — for the choir and conductor must swiftly decide whether they should begin their next unaccompanied verse in the original key, or resign themselves to whatever key the treble has arrived at.

Many years ago I was a witness to one of the worst things ever to happen at a service of Nine Lessons and Carols. Through an attack of nerves, the solo treble sang the wrong interval on both the second and third notes of his solo. The other trebles looked curious at this new state of affairs. The back rows of the choir looked panic-stricken. The eyes of the choirmaster flared like those of a driver who has just seen a freight lorry pull out in front of him.

Everyone tried to think on their feet. But they were different feet. During those long seconds no consensus could be arrived at. And so it came to pass that when the choir started the second verse, they did so on an almost precise 50-50 split. Trying to assert some order back into the universe, the back rows largely came in on the old key. The other half — mainly the trebles, in a show of solidarity with their stricken colleague — came in on the new key.

I doubt that a more vile noise has ever been emitted in the house of the Lord. The choirmaster’s arms looked as though he was wading through tapioca. At the far end of the church, the organist started blasting out the pedal of the original key in an effort to remind the choir of how far they had roamed. This only made the effect worse. It was as though in the middle of a car crash someone had started sounding a foghorn to lighten things up a bit. I have never seen a dean give a more evil look.

But I digress. Similar challenges affect the readers of the lessons. There are two main challenges. First is the matter of volume. For this you must consult the church’s sound system in advance. Preparation is all. Given that most church sound systems are to acoustic technology what fax machines are to a modern office, this is vital. Some (largely male) readers tend to over-project and do a Donald Sinden — speaking to the back of the church as though there is no sound system. This is not good. The church is not the Globe Theatre.

At the other extreme is the mousier type of reader who tends to read the lesson as though hoping that nobody will notice them. The effect this time is that the congregation ends up feeling like it is listening to someone reading to themselves in private.

It is especially important not to do Mary’s talk with the Archangel Gabriel in a ‘character’ voice 

The other main challenge is speed. Most readers are not practiced performers, and while even the most practiced performer can be overcome by nerves and start gabbling, the unpracticed reader is the one most likely to start off like a greyhound on his first race.

Even the smallest parish churches have an echo larger than whatever room the reader has practiced it on before their encouraging spouse. Speed of delivery is all. I reckon that the correct tempo is at a minus 0.5 percent speed of normal speech.

But what is normal speech when it comes to scripture? Here lies another fraught matter. I have always found it charming when a choirboy reading the first lesson about the fall of man arrives at the moment where God has his bit of dialogue. Some choirboys read it through as though it is all the same thing. Others make what is to me an always touching attempt to deliver, in an unbroken voice, an approximation of the basso profundo that they imagine the Lord God walking in the garden in the cool of the day would most likely speak in.

Such efforts are less charming in adults. In general people should avoid doing “voices.” It is especially important not to do the Virgin Mary’s talk with the Archangel Gabriel in a “character” voice. Allow the congregation to imagine the tone of wonder in the Virgin’s voice, but in no way should you attempt to approximate it. At our Spectator carol service at St. Bride’s Fleet Street in London the other day, our very own Mary (Wakefield) and Lara Prendergast gave perfect demonstrations of how it should be done. Both not only looked, but sounded, beatific. And that is because they both know how to read naturally. The story is wondrous enough in itself. All it requires is for it to be related in a simple, humble and clear tone.

That evening brought back to me a person most missed again this year, who used to read scripture in a way that was utterly unique and also exemplary.

Jeremy knew that the key to reading scripture out loud is simply to say it in the way you would say anything else — in your own

Jeremy read the Gospel of Luke as though he had never heard the story before. Every line, every pause and every look up at the congregation as he relayed the story of Mary and Joseph was suffused with a sense of utter wonder. The general tone was: “Cor, have you heard this stuff? It’s bloody amazing.”

We got pretty pissed at the pub afterwards, and that is another story. But as so often Jeremy hit the right note. This stuff is amazing and we shouldn’t forget it.