Every year, 58,000 people make the journey to the Bayreuth Festival. For 150 years, 1,925 uncomfortable seats are occupied by devotees for each performance of Richard Wagner’s operas. As the lights go down, complete darkness and absolute quiet ensue (the Bayreuth hush) in expectation of the first chords of the orchestral prelude. The unremarkable exterior of the building houses amphitheater seating which ensures everyone has a superb view of the unfolding drama. The orchestra is completely hidden, with sound coming unexpectedly from unknown places. Electronic and amplified sounds are absent. The superbly designed acoustics mean even the quietest sound can be heard everywhere. Down the hill from the performance venue, the residents of the small town of Bayreuth provide food and lodging support to the pilgrims to each year’s festival. Attendees wear formal attire, despite the heat and lack of air conditioning, given the significance of the occasion.1

What if worshipping Christians considered going to church as seriously as Bayreuth attendees coming to the Wagner Festival? What if silence greeted the first chords of the prelude? What if every word spoken and sung were so carefully planned, rehearsed, and so gloriously compelling that the hearers knew to listen carefully so as not to miss the transcendence? What if churches were designed so everyone could see and hear without amplification? What if leaders of worship were so inconspicuous that the drama of the liturgy unfolded with no distractions? What if worshippers considered worship such a special occasion that wearing their best was the only option? What if the surrounding community noticed the importance the congregation placed on their worship?

Annie Dillard, well known American writer, penned these words decades ago: “Why do people in church seem like cheerful, brainless tourists on a packaged tour of the Absolute? … Does anyone have the foggiest idea what sort of power we blithely invoke? Or, as I suspect, does no one believe a word of it? The churches are children playing on the floor with their chemistry sets, mixing up a batch of TNT to kill a Sunday morning. It is madness to wear ladies’ straw hats and velvet hats to church; we should all be wearing crash helmets. Ushers should issue life preservers and signal flares; they should lash us to our pews. For the sleeping god may wake someday and take offense, or the waking god may draw us to where we can never return.” 2

3 David and Goliath - John August Swanson (image)

If you have read this far, you likely understand something of the ministry of Church Music Institute. What could happen if all of us put the lessons of Bayreuth and Annie Dillard’s advice into action? How would our worship and music change? How would we be changed? How could the world around us change? - Dr. Charlotte Kroeker Thoughts? We’d love to hear from you. ckroeker@churchmusicinstitute.org

1 Barone, Joshua. “Nothing Deters Wagner’s Opera Fans.” The New York Times, July 26, 2026.
2 Dillard, Annie. Teaching a Stone to Talk: Expeditions and Encounters. New York: Harper & Row, 1982, pp. 40-41.
3 Swanson, John August. David and Goliath, from Art in the Christian Tradition, a project of the Vanderbilt University Divinity Library, Nashville, TN. https://act.library.vanderbilt.edu/artworks/56540 [retrieved September 4, 2026]. Original source: Estate of John August Swanson, https://www.johnaugustswanson.com/.