MUSIC HATH ARMS…
Scriptures:
I Samuel 18:6-9
Psalm 33:1-9
I’m sure you’re
familiar with the aphorism “Music hath charms to soothe the savage beast.”
That’s actually a mis-quote, as some of you likely know. It’s from William
Congreve’s 1697 play The Mourning Bride, and the quote really goes like this: "Music
hath charms to soothe a savage breast, To soften rocks, or bend a knotted
oak." But whether “beast” or “breast” this sentiment has entered our folk
wisdom because we expect music to have this kind of an effect on us – soothing,
comforting, taking the rough edges off the hectic pace of our existence. Now,
maybe Harry and Thomas and Lura and young people generally wouldn’t agree with
that assessment. After all, beginning with Elvis in the 50’s, continuing
through the hard rock of the 60’s, disco in the 70’s, heavy metal in the 80’s,
rap in the 90’s, on up to gangsta rap and newer forms of heavy metal now we’ve
seen quite a few forms of music which hardly would be thought of as being used
to calm jangled nerves, provide a relaxing outlet, bring a sense of inner
peace. Although as Lura said when I was talking with her about it earlier this
week, it really depends what kind of a mood a young person is in for choosing
the kind of music they want to listen to -- sometimes soothing music is
exactly what is called for.
We
all look to that soothing quality of music, don’t we? We
put on
the radio as background to ease daily tasks. We hardly even
notice the
piped-in music in factories and offices which, even though we denigrate
it by
calling it “elevator music”, studies show that it really
does increase
efficiency. A Sunday afternoon concert or listening to CD’s
or downloads to
iPods with friends offer a change of pace from other activities.
And then
there is our response to church music, which we hope will inspire us in
a
comforting, soul-satisfying way. I once had a church organist
tell me about a
soloist he was working with who felt he had to tone down the more
dramatic
passages from Mendelssohn’s Elijah because he felt it would be too
exciting for the church setting in which he was doing it.
That seems to me to be a bit extreme, and I rather imagine that Don and Anita would agree that toning down something as magnificent as Elijah just because it was being done in a church is exactly wrong. Music is meant to enliven, not just soothe – perhaps particularly in a church setting. And I think Harry would have agreed with that sentiment, too. He wanted the music that we experienced in this place to be lively – to stir us up – whether it came from voices or the kind of instruments that Thomas and Chris and Harry Jr. will share with us in a few moments or from the organ that Harry played so superbly.
That’s why I’ve given this meditation the play-on-words, almost cutesy title “Music Hath Arms…” (rather than “charms”). I mean this two ways. First, music has arms as in artillery – pointed, on target, shooting at our false comforts and pretensions, taking aim at insights which disrupt our ordinary ways of thinking, puncturing holes in inadequate values or systems of safety. But secondly, then, music has arms in a bodily and spiritual sense: arms which support, sustain, and embrace.
If you think this is claiming too much for what some might simply dismiss as an art form, there are those who have claimed much more. Here’s Leonard Bernstein, for instance: “Music, because of its specific and far-reaching metaphorical powers, can name the unnamable and communicate the unknowable.” Wow! That’s pretty sweeping. Or Thomas Carlyle: "Music is well said to be the speech of angels." From that lovely cellist Pablo Casals: "Music is the divine way to tell beautiful, poetic things to the heart." Finally, from someone whom I don’t know but who is reputed to be a mystic, Max Heindel, who says simply, profoundly: "Music is the soul of language."
The movie biography of Bob Dylan, “I’m Not There”, which opened recently, reminds us of how much we have been steeped in songs of protest through the folk-rock and rock music genres. Many of us, I would guess, have been profoundly moved over the years by Dylan’s anguished questions in “Blowing in the Wind”: “How many deaths will it take ‘till we know that too many people have died?” – reframing in modern language the Psalmist’s tortured cry: “O Lord, how long…how long shall the wicked exult?” (94:3) Dylan also sang of the necessity of understanding swift change:
Your old road is rapidly agin’;
Please get out of the new one
If you can’t lend your hand,
For the times they are a-changin’.
which recalls once again the Psalmist’s “Sing to [the Lord] a new song…..” (33:3)
Indeed, much of the music in the Bible can be heard as a call to arms and action. The second song of Moses in Deuteronomy speaks of the people’s covenant with God, reminding them of their promises and of the Lord’s faithfulness and justice. It would be hard to listen to this song, today as then, and not be moved to action on behalf of the Lord of justice. The brief song recorded in I Samuel, which we heard read a few moments ago, is even more pointed. When the women sang, “Saul has killed his thousands, and David his ten thousands” – a truthful comment about the relative strength, authority, and popularity of Saul and David – King Saul could not cope with the insight that was thus musically offered, and the result was disruption. The power of a song to overturn the fate of a people and a powerful individual is never more evident than in this case, as Saul reacts out of jealous rage to what he hears. In our own time we can identify with this power, in a more positive sense, as we recall (this two Sunday’s after Martin Luther King’s birthday celebration) the effect of being caught up in the singing of “We Shall Overcome” – a song which even years after the height of the Civil Rights Movement stirs emotions and influences the course of nations.
The songbook of the Bible is the book of Psalms, but as you read through the Psalms you find very little that is soothing in the sentimental or pacifying sense. Yes, there are the comforting words of the 23rd Psalm, as we shall hear in a few moments. But there is much more that is probing, pointed, puncturing the sham of insecurity and sin. The 12th Psalm:
Help, O Lord, for there is no longer anyone who is godly;
the faithful have disappeared from humankind.
They utter lies to each other;
with flattering lips and a double heart they speak. (12:1-2)
Any minister speaking that bluntly to a congregation would be open to the old charge of stopped preachin’ and started meddlin’.
The Psalms sing of justice crying out and of the need for change. They sing of God’s compassion to those who turn to God:
When the righteous cry for help, the Lord hears,
and rescues them from all their troubles. (34:17)
And they were not afraid to blast some of the accepted religious practices of that day, as when the Psalmist condemns burnt offerings and has God say instead that, “Those who bring thanksgiving as their sacrifice honor me.” (50:23) The whole approach of the Psalmist to God is summed up in that verse we heard read as part of our scripture:
For the word of the Lord is upright,
and all his work is done in faithfulness,
He loves righteousness and justice;
the earth is full of the steadfast love of the Lord. (33:4-5)
What I’ve been reaching for here is that there is much in contemporary music that has the same call for justice (aiming at the targets of false idols with our arms) and compassion (reaching out to hold another with our arms) as those centuries old Psalms. Simon and Garfunkel sang that “the words of the prophets are written on the subway walls and tenement halls”, but it is also true that the music of these contemporary prophets pricks our consciences and holds up a mirror to ourselves as perhaps no music has since the time of the Psalmists.
And along with pricking our conscience it is music that is there to comfort and console. Do you remember the early Beatles’ song “Eleanor Rigby”, with its lamenting question, “All the lonely people, where do they all come from?” Once on a youth retreat I asked the young people to choose their most religious song, and one 16-year-old chose “Eleanor Rigby”. She recognized that perhaps the greatest religious act was to reach out and touch the life of someone – to discover in the depths of universal loneliness the hand of God reaching out through the hand of another human being. Music like this offers us human and spiritual arms – to support, to embrace, to celebrate.
That’s what we’re all about today: to celebrate one human life whose music helped to give us arms against a troubling world. Harry’s health problems never kept his spirit from flagging, nor did they diminish his devotion to his school-children, to his church, and especially to his son. We will miss the person, but we will have that spirit – to keep us focused as we aim our arms at the pretensions of the world, to keep us humble as we reach out to others with the arms of compassion.
Let me give the (almost) last word to 19th century English novelist Charles Kingsley, who offers what I think is a perfect testimony to Harry Willard’s life:
“There is something very wonderful about music. Words are wonderful enough; but music is even more wonderful. It speaks not to our thoughts as words do; it speaks through our hearts and spirits, to the very core and root of our souls. Music soothes us, stirs us up; it puts noble feelings in us; it can make us cringe; and it can melt us to tears; and yet we have no idea how. It is a language by itself, just as perfect in its ways as speech, as words, just as divine, just as blessed.”
We were blessed to have Harry Willard among us.
Amen
Dave Pomeroy
First Congregational Church, United Church of Christ
Las Vegas, NV
February 3, 2008