We are here to witness the creation and abet it. We are here to notice each thing so each thing gets noticed. Together we notice not only each mountain shadow and each stone on the beach but, especially, we notice the beautiful faces and complex natures of each other. We are here to bring to consciousness the beauty and power that are around us and to praise the people who are here with us. We witness our generation and our times. We watch the weather. Otherwise, creation would be playing to an empty house.
Translation: Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand. (Isaiah 41:10) Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine. (Isaiah 43:1)
There were shepherds abiding in the fields, keeping watch over their flocks by night. And lo, the angel of the lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them. And they were sore afraid.
And the angel said unto them, “Fear not!”
For behold I bring you tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David, a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord.
And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God and saying, Glory to God! Glory to God in the highest!”
Which comes first, the music or the music theory? I love this video, not just for its cleverness, but because it is symbolic of a conflict which keeps showing up in my life.
Music or music theory?
Story or grammar and spelling?
Photos or apertures and shutter speeds?
Art or value and colour theory?
At the moment this is the question that threatens friendships between people I love: Is correct practice (orthopraxy) and knowledge of correct doctrine (orthodoxy) equally important?
Dare I say no without upsetting amateur and professional theologians everywhere?
Probably not, but I’m going to say it anyway.
Notice I did not say doctrine is unimportant! I am saying just as there are those who can produce wonderful music who don’t know a leading note from a submediant, there are many fine followers of Christ who can produce the melodies and harmonies of the love of Jesus Christ without knowing soteriology from eschatology. For them the “music” is intuitive. They feel it, they live it, they experience it, they move to it.
Alas, having a firm grasp of music theory does not necessarily result in beautiful music. Although I appreciate the clear enunciation of the singer in this video (sorry, dude) he’s no Pavarotti or Mario Lanza, neither of whom were music-reading, sight-singing wizards. (The rumour that Pav couldn’t read music was apparently false; he just didn’t read as quickly as some.)
I admit musicians who cannot read music, or who do not understand music theory are at a disadvantage. Even the brilliant Sir Paul McCartney admitted to that when he needed help translating his Liverpool Oratorio into written form. My mother, who never had the advantage of music lessons, could play classical piano music like Liszt’s Liebestraum by ear. The problem was that she got the rhythm wrong in the same spot for years. It drove me nuts, but I could not prove to her that the composer didn’t intend it to be played that way from the score, because the score was “a bunch of chicken scratches” to her. I finally learned to leave her to enjoy making music the way she liked it. It wasn’t as if she was passing her version on to anyone else, but the problem with not being familiar with written music meant that she could not easily check to see if her orthopraxy lined up with orthodoxy.
This is the problem some gung-ho Christians have when they have not taken the time or applied the self-discipline necessary to know the scriptures. They tend to neglect checking that all their practices line up with the Bible. They are dependent on others to study and learn the material for them first, either to teach them on a deeper level, or to bring correction when some ideas are off. The whole area of correction is awkward for both the receiver and the giver, like it was for Mom’s Liebestraum and me (or for my granddaughter and my French. She’s been in a French immersion school and she asked me not to speak French to her because she was “only a little girl, and it was embarrassing to have to correct an adult’s French.”)
Even though I hated music theory (it was so time-consuming and lacked immediate reward –and I was lazy) I learned it –sort of. I first studied the UK terminology through Trinity College of London, then had to learn different words when I changed to the North American system for the Royal Conservatory. (Also typical of academics is the tendency for each school to develop and defend their own vocabulary.)
On the other hand, after years of having musical creativity squashed by the reigning pedagogy of the time, I could only play written music, without variation, as the composer intended. It wasn’t until I tossed a lot of rigid music theory out of my head that I was free to improvise and compose my own music. (Although I still worry about not doing it “right.”) Sadly I was nearly in my mid-twenties before I sang for audiences who came to concerts simply to enjoy themselves and who were not (for the most part) examiners, adjudicators, master class experts, critics, concert masters, directors or worse – rival’s mothers. Most of them didn’t care if I was 1/16th late on an entry –and not one of them ever asked me a question on music theory. All they wanted was to hear the music performed by someone with skill who could feel it from the heart. Their generous response shocked me.
Now music theory does have its own kind of beauty. The circle of fifths has a God’s-in-his-heaven-and-all’s-right-with–the-world sense of mathematical satisfaction to it in the same way the Fibonacci sequence keeps showing up as a basic pattern in art and nature. But you can’t dance to the circle of fifths, and unless it is interpreted in shapes and colours the Fibonacci sequence is just a bunch of numbers on a page and not something you would hang over the fireplace. Well most of us, anyway.
Here is my problem: I have spent many years in the company of academics from many fields. They are all smarter than I am. They understand the theory of music, or art, or physics –or theology for that matter – much better than I ever will. Argument and debate is the standard method of refining their theories. (The pages of comments under this video on the YouTube site are a great example of how argument over details and games of intellectual king of the hill lead people further and further away from the point of enjoying Mel Tormé’s song.) I believe many very capable people who actually also “do the stuff” gain an even deeper appreciation for their art from their study of theory. Alas, it becomes so easy, when ego is involved, for some to give greater weight to doctrinal debate as though the brain is the highest authority and seminary-trained, intellectually gifted people are on the upper echelons of a two tiered Christianity. I don’t think the study of doctrine and the here and now practical demonstration of the heart of God are of equal importance; it is not a matter of balance. It is possible to be doctrinally correct and miss the whole point of the beauty of relationship. Jesus saved his most scathing criticisms for religious experts whose neat rows of doctrinal ducks didn’t make very pretty music.
Intelligence is a gift to be appreciated, developed and used. God didn’t give us brains to leave them on the night-table. Doctrine is important. The Bible is essential; it keeps people tethered to truth. But without the Truth, Christ and his love, living inside a person, and without a person living in Christ, it’s all a gong show.
Yes, we know that “we all have knowledge” about this issue. But while knowledge makes us feel important, it is love that strengthens the church. (1 Corinthians 8:1b)
Edited to add: Whilst writing this blog the sound system on my computer heaved a sigh and waved goodbye. I fiddled with it, but I didn’t have a clue how to fix it. A student offered to look at it for me. After performing a diagnostic scan on my computer with amazing prowess he got down on his hands and knees and checked the wires. “Here’s your problem,” he said. “Green wire goes into green, not pink.”
Theoretical knowledge knew what to look for, but practical hands fixed it. We have music! Love it. I owe you one, Cam.
Also edited to add: Haha.I just read this quote on Facebook.
People are not interested in something theoretical. The thing that always convinces people is reality. If they see there is something about our lives, a certain quality, a certain calmness and equanimity, the ability to be more than conquerors in every kind of circumstance, if they see that when everything is against us, we will triumphantly prevail whereas they do not, they will become interested in what we have. They will want to know more about it. I am convinced, therefore, that the greatest need today is Christian people who know and manifest the fact that they know the living God, to whom His “loving-kindness is better than life.”
I’ve been cleaning house in preparation for Christmas.
OK, the truth is I needed to mail some presents and by the time we dragged out the boxes of tree decorations and cards with mismatched envelopes and holly jolly wrinkled wrap the place was a disaster. I had to get Grampie to move the portable table saw and the camping equipment out first to get at it and that led to a multitude of forgotten junk, old toys and sports equipment from years past spilling out of the tiny storage room under the stairs as well. I had no choice; there was no hiding this stuff. Some thingys had been there so long we forgot we had them and had gone out and bought new thingys when we needed them. Six air mattresses. Really?
So I have been cleaning and sorting and hauling stuff to the thrift shop.
In the middle of my trying to pare down Grampie brought home a big box of wooden blocks he found at a going-out-of business sale. Since we have four grandchildren under the age of three and a half — soon to be five grandchildren– the purchase of blocks does make sense. They love to build to build castles and high towers. Well, some like to build up –and some cannot resist knocking down. They don’t always have the same plans. The little boys especially presume the whole point of building blocks is the satisfying crashing sound they make when they plow through a structure in their stocking feet. That’s when we need to talk about understanding that we need to find out if the other kid wanted their tower knocked down or not. Pay attention. Listen. Usually an adult suggests a plan and gets the kids working together on a project. When it’s done they can all knock it down.
As I was cleaning and sorting, looking for a place to put them, it seemed like a good time to do a little spiritual house cleaning too, what with all the reminders of advent and John the Baptist and repentance and preparing the way and all that, so I asked the Lord to show me any hidden sins –you know, like in the song, “Create in me a clean heart, Oh Lord, and renew a right spirit within me, and see if there be any hurtful way in me.”
Sigh. Dangerous prayer. When I decided to deal with the obvious, other junk I had forgotten about just kept pouring out of my heart closet.
OK, the need to confess sins of omission and sins of commission I understand; some hidden ones in my blind spot became painfully obvious too. Not fun, but God is quite willing to forgive when we are willing to agree with him and it feels good to be clean. Then I ran across this verse about presumptuous sins.
Who can discern his errors? Declare me innocent from hidden faults. Keep back your servant also from presumptuous sins; let them not have dominion over me! (Psalm 19: 12, 13)
I asked a few people who seem to be a little further ahead on the road than I what they thought it meant.
A kind, wise woman answered, “The sin of presumption is thinking Jesus came to fulfill our plans rather than that He came to equip us to fulfill his.”
I like this. I need to remember to ask God what His plans are before I go barging through something he is building up -or before I scramble to fix something he is tearing down. I need to ask him what his priorities are, then take the blocks he gives me and work alongside him. Like my husband says, “God’s a good listener, but he doesn’t take direction well.”
After hearing reports from friends this weekend who were eye witnesses to marvelous goings on in other parts of the world where people are hungry for God and Holy Spirit came in power, I actually felt a little discouraged. I wept. Why not here?
We are so comfortable, so complacent. Would we walk two days to have the chance to learn more about Jesus Christ? Would we meet night after night, year, after year, to pray for our people and for those who would try to stifle and kill us, like they do in places where being passionate about your beliefs means laying your life on the line?
We are I am so complacent. The biggest problem taking up space in my worry quotient right now is how to get my dishwasher fixed when the only repairman in town is going on vacation for a month. God forgive me.
There must be more than this.
After a night of waking to the sound of weeping and wailing (I really don’t know where it came from) I got up with the chorus of this song on repeat in my head. I’m learning to pay attention to things like that. I haven’t heard it in years and I didn’t know any of the other words until I found a YouTube version with subtitles (such as they are). It spoke to my heart. It is God who parts the waters, not me. My task is simply to keep my eyes on him.
He is up to something. Just watch.
Bruce Springsteen, the prophet. Who knew? Enjoy.
(Mary probably refers to Mary of Bethany who wept for her brother Lazarus before Jesus raised him from the dead. Apparently the “booing” sound at the end is actually people calling “Bruce, Bruuuuuce” and “smoked the world with a 2×4” should be “smote the waters.”)
For I know the plans I have for you, declares the LORD, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope.
(Jeremiah 29:11)
I often wonder if many of the people who buy lovely posters and trinkets with this scripture verse printed on them are aware of the context. Jeremiah gives this message to a people who are in the midst of the worst possible calamity they could imagine. He writes quite clearly that they face a 70 year exile. He tells them to plant gardens, build houses and seek the welfare of the people who destroyed the Judean way of life.
God’s timetable can be so different from ours. We can be assured God is at work even we can’t see what he is up to.
One of the people who read Jeremiah’s letter was Daniel. Think of it, Daniel was in service to a man who destroyed or confiscated his family’s property, removed their rights and freedoms, probably killed many friends and relatives and to top it off turned him into a eunuch, which has got to qualify as traumatic sexual abuse.
And yet, and yet…
Daniel is a faithful and trusted civil servant. When he interprets the king’s dream, which he knows is bad news, he says that he wishes the dream was about the king’s enemies and not the king himself. In spite of severe persecution he is faithful to his God, and God allows him to see beyond his circumstances. God lets him in on his plans, even though Daniel doesn’t have a grid for what he sees.
I stopped for lunch near the Alberta border a couple of days ago and I read my Bible as I sipped a thermos of coffee. The passage for the day was about Jesus taking his closest friends up a mountain where they were allowed to see him transfigured into a brilliant figure talking with Moses and Elijah (the law-giver and the prophet). The guys were overwhelmed and didn’t know what to do with such an experience.
Then came the hard part, the part their Master told them about several times, the part where he was arrested, sentenced, and executed. In those dark days before his resurrection, they must have wondered what that mountaintop experience was all about. What power must have been at work beyond their valley experience! The fulfillment of God’s plans were already in motion as the promise of the ages was arising in that dark place.
As I meditated on this passage I glanced over to my left, towards Crowsnest Mountain. This is what I saw. It was a pay-attention moment.