Time's Dance to the Music of God

In some churches, folk are free to raise both hands high above them in open-hearted worship. In a group I’m too self-conscious to express myself that way.

But if I’m alone in the kitchen at home, loading the dish-washer while listening to some of the music I find breathtakingly beautiful – Bach’s Air on a G string for example – I have no such inhibitions. Instinctively, my hands open high above me, both expressing, and opening myself up to joy and wonder.

But that’s simply appreciation of the composer’s creative skills, isn’t it? Not worship.

But is it worship? Recently, I watched on BBC iPlayer a recording from the Proms at the Royal Albert Hall in which Sir Mark Elder conducted the Hallé Orchestra in a performance of Elgar’s 2nd Symphony. Sir Mark introduced each of the work’s four movements, explaining the circumstances in the composer’s life which found expression in the music.

As I watched the intense concentration of the musicians, saw the rapt attention of the audience, heard the richly intricate orchestral sound as the conductor lived the music on his rostrum I suddenly thought ‘this is prayer!’

Was I wrong? We can only know and experience God as God self-reveals to us in ways our limited bodies, minds, and spirits can process. The immensity of God is beyond anything we can ever think or imagine.

God self-reveals in giving us words, parables, metaphors, symbols – and in Jesus himself. I am blessed by parables (how often have I walked the road home in my imagination, seeing the Father running towards his returning prodigal, feeling welcoming arms wrapped around me); I have been encouraged by the example and words of Jesus (‘I will never leave you.’).

Above all, I have been inspired by the great Bible story of creation; of humanity devastated by sinfulness; of a way back to God opened up by Jesus; of the final healing of all things; of our place as individuals in that story.

But all these words and stories can’t capture the bigness of God – they simply point to the great mystery beyond.

And so I sometimes wonder – how can I be sure that if I’m moved, say by a parable or a verse from the Bible, I am not simply responding to the story, to the beauty of the words rather than to the God who is reflected in both words and story?

Sharing this with a friend as we’d coffee in Dobbies the other day I suddenly realised the answer. God meets us in everything which points us to God. So I am not merely responding to the relevance of parable or the power of symbol but to the waiting Father. It’s like the icons used in the Eastern Church – as you reflect on the depiction of Jesus so the icon becomes a window into the heart of Christ.

And God doesn’t just come to is in specifically religious stories and ideas. I believe all joy reflects the Joy who is God; all beauty, the Beauty who is God; all love, the Love who is God.

So when I am moved or stirred by fine music, I am not simply responding to the composer’s score, but to the Music it palely reflects, the Music flowing from the heart of God.

There were no doubt people of many faiths and none among the members of the Hallé Orchestra that evening when it seemed music flowed from Mark Elder’s sensitive fingers. Yet in their commitment to create the sounds first heard by Edward Elgar they were in fact worshipping God whether or not they were aware of it.

Elgar once wrote ‘My idea is that there is music in the air, music all around is, the world is full of it and you simply take as much as you require.’ The composer Salieri said (in the film Amadeus) of a Mozart work ‘it seemed to me that I was hearing the voice of God.’

The Music of God surrounds us, and we are invited to open our hearts and receive all we require. Too often, we do not listen. We see the symbols – religious symbols, and the ubiquitous signs of God’s presence in the world – and take them for granted. We hang the icon on our wall and never really engage with it. We keep our faith on the shelf, like a dusty, unplayed orchestral score.

The Music of the Universe flows from God’s fingers. God calls us not simply to listen, but to join in; as those Hallé players let Elgar’s music cascade from them so we are invited by God to let the Master’s score be heard in our lives wherever we are.

And whenever we raise our hands in wonder, we’re raising our hands to God.

(Christian Viewpoint column from the Highland News dated 3rd September 2015)