Stirred, Shaken, Stilled

The Rev. Dr. Skip Ferguson

Manassas Presbyterian Church

Manassas, Virginia

May 12, 2013

Celebrating Our Music Ministry

Stirred, Shaken, Stilled

Ephesians 5:18-20

It was a heady experience for the 10-year old boy:

To go out with his father on a Tuesday night,

a school night, after dinner,

dressed up in sport coat and necktie,

the two of them headed downtown to the concert hall,

off to hear a performance by the symphony orchestra.

It was a thirty-minute drive into the city from their home,

a drive filled with a sense of excitement.

Once they arrived, the boy’s father parked the car

and the two of them walked to the entrance of the concert hall

and then through the doors of the auditorium,

the place buzzing as the other concertgoers poured in

and found their seats.

An usher escorted the boy and his father to their seats

in the center section about half-way back from the stage,

and then handed them their programs.

The boy immediately immersed himself

in the pages of the program,

reading through the notes about the performance:

what the orchestra would play,

who the composer of each piece was,

when the pieces were written.

After he finished his reading,

he looked around the large concert hall;

wondering what the view was like in the seats

in the upper balcony.

At exactly 8:00 pm the house lights dimmed,

and the stage lights went up.

The concertmaster stood up and nodded to the oboist,

who then played an A,

the traditional call to the other musicians

for their final tuning.  

For a few moments the stage was filled with a raucous noise,

as the musicians checked their instruments one last time.

Then the concertmaster took his seat,

and held his violin on his lap,

his eyes looking straight ahead.

The cacophony from the stage stopped as quickly as it had begun

and a hush fell over the hall.

A door opened on the left side of the stage,

and out walked the conductor,

resplendent in white tie and tails,

smoothing his hair as he walked to the center of the stage.

He stopped when he reached the podium,

turned and faced the audience,

acknowledging their applause with a smile.

He then mounted the steps to the podium,

picked up his baton,

scanned the orchestra

and went to work,

leading them quickly into the first piece.

It was glorious: 80 musicians creating waves of sound

that soared and bounced and sailed,

magnificent sounds,

each musician taking the notes the composer had put on paper

and turning them, as if by magic,

into something ethereal, celestial.

The boy was in awe –

how could anyone have imagined

those sounds in his head?

Heard those notes?

How could anyone have been able to capture them,

one note at a time,

and put them down on paper:

these notes for the violins,

these notes for the trombones,

distinct notes and markings for the

tympani and the cymbals.

Melody, harmony;

andante, presto, adagio.

pianissimo, fortissimo;

the burst of a trumpet,

the crack of a snare drum,

the grunting of a bassoon,

the laughter of a clarinet,

all the strings singing,

The boy floated, moved by the music,

transported by its beauty,

transported to a place he’d never been to before.

                 

This is what music can do to us:

It can cause our toes to tap;

move us to get up and dance,

lead us to sing out with pride,

swell our hearts and move us to tears.

                 

Music touches us, filling us with joy,

gracing us with peace.

Music helps us express our emotions,

from pride to grief,

from concern to assurance.

The style of music doesn’t matter:

Classical, rock,

folk, jazz,

secular, sacred –

it’s all music,

all with its roots in the symphony of sound

God plays for us throughout creation.

It is all music that can stir us,

shake us,

and still us.

The memory of my first trip to hear the Buffalo Philharmonic Orchestra

in Kleinhans Music Hall is still with me after all these years,

dare I say it: still with me 48 years later.

It was the foundation for my love of music,

my love for music.

Where my love for classical music came from is anyone’s guess:

My mother preferred Robert Goulet or Shirley Jones singing

Broadway show tunes.

My father’s musical universe was populated with the

Big Bands from the 1930s and 40s:

Benny Goodman, Glen Miller, Tommy Dorsey –

all of them swinging.

The radio station I listened to

pumped out songs from a new British band

called The Beatles

when they weren’t playing “Fun, Fun, Fun”

and other hits by the Beach Boys.

I liked the Beach Boys, the Beatles and other rock;

but even at the age of 10 I was smitten by classical music

because it touched me, moved me, got inside me

in a way no other music did.

Certainly we don’t all respond to the same music the same way;

we are each different,

each unique,

and so we respond to music differently,

each of us in our own ways.

But still we each respond;

we don’t just hear,        

we feel,

feel the music –

if we open our minds and hearts

and let the music pour into us.

Even if we all have different musical tastes,

we can all understand and agree with

the composer of our closing hymn

who wrote that,

every song that’s part of our worship

has the potential to move us

to a more profound Alleluia

as we praise God with music,

praise God through music.

                                   

For all the glorious music we have Sunday after Sunday,

our musicians are not here to entertain us.

For that matter, they are not here to please us.

They are here to please God.

They sing for God,

offering their music to God.

We, of course, are part of that offering

as we listen, and at times, join in.

Our musicians lead us,

inspire us,

help us to turn our hearts and minds to God,

“move us to a more profound alleluia.”

You can, of course, grumble that you don’t like to sing,

or that you don’t like this hymn or that hymn,

but you’re just going to get left along the side of the road

as the musicians lead the rest of us,

those of us willing to follow,

to a deeper, truly more profound alleluia

than we could ever hope to find without music.

Music ties us to one another – it is something we do together.

Music ties us to other communities,

other cultures as we sing songs

from other parts of the world,

other denominations.

                                   

Music ties us to all the saints

as we sing hymns our ancestors in faith sang

50 years, 100 years, 200 years ago.

I would guess that there has never been a year

in the 146-year history of our church

when this congregation hasn’t sung “Amazing Grace.”

Think about that: we are part of a community of saints

stretching back 146 years who together have sung

that lovely hymn,

that deeply moving,

profoundly emotional song.

“…be filled with the Spirit,”

wrote the author of the Letter to the church at Ephesus.

“Be filled with Spirit

as you sing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs among yourselves,

singing and making melody to the Lord in your hearts,

giving thanks to God the Father at all times

and for everything

in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ.”

“Sing!” the Bible teaches us.

Sing out joyfully,

enthusiastically.

Sing even if you don’t like singing,

Sing even if you don’t think you have a very good voice,

Sing even if you don’t like the song.

Sing and make melody to the Lord our God

from the heart, with the heart.

These are not my words,

or Deborah’s words to us,

but truly,

the words of the Lord.

AMEN