Classic Conversation

I’m listening to Tchaikovsky’s 1812 Overture, the full version.  A friend of mine shared the link on Facebook so I clicked. I forgot how much I love this piece. Time to get out of the Beethoven and Albinoni kick. Most people have heard various segments of this piece interspersed in daily life. Thank you Loony Tunes and television commercials. The whole fifteen minute overture is phenomenal. Starting with delicate strings it moves to brass. Percussion comes out of nowhere. Gong? Tambourine? Yes, please. Back to strings with an elegant fade out then Tension! Cymbals! It’s wild and chaotic and brassy with the strings in a quiet but violent undertone. Sweet again- Hallmark Christmas movie ending diabetic coma sweet. Temporary silence.

By the 11:40 mark the listener is sorting emotions. Buckle up. CANNONS! Strings like a waterfall then loud and proud. Church bells! Cannons! Brass! The final drum roll thunders while the last notes are victoriously surrendered to the listener for celebration and catharsis. Tchaikovsky regarded it as noisy and exaggerated.  He’s not wrong. Kids today have no idea what a “beat drop” is compared to live cannon fire. Imagine being a violinist back in the day watching the conductor hire munitions experts. Those had to be great conversations. Well, the ones that could be heard anyway.

I listen to classical as a musical palate cleanser. There are no vocals, just the ebb and flow of notes and harmony. The listener is allowed to escape into a realm of emotion created by their own momentary interpretation. It communicates images into the soul. Communication isn’t just words. It’s a presence filled with tone, eye contact, and body language.  In today’s culture of electronics it includes emojis and memes. At some point I’m going to translate scripture into emojis and see who interprets it correctly. Don’t hold your breath. It seems like blasphemy.

With physical gatherings at an almost standstill due to the pandemic words have become even more important to society. It’s a blessing and a curse. The typed word when read is often not done so in the tone of the author but in the attitude of the reader.  It’s too easy to misinterpret on social media. YouTube comment sections are filling with arguments based on original posts over a decade old. Are we that bored? Are we that determined to be heard? Probably.

I have a toxic trait that needs to go. Immediately. I interrupt people when they’re talking. I’ll even interrupt myself. It’s as if I’m so worried I’ll forget what I want to say I have to say it RIGHT NOW. If I don’t say whatever though, does it matter? What’s more important? The small nugget I have to share or having a meaningful conversation with another person?

It’s been said most people listen to respond and they do not listen to hear. As a woman, I’m predisposed to be chatty. I know there are days I can talk the ears off a brass monkey but that doesn’t give me the right to be rude. After forty-ish years of bad habit why stop now? Why not just own it?

It’s been shown to me how agonizingly painful it is to be the interuptee.  There are people in my circle I dearly love who do not ever let me get to the end of a tale. I’ve learned to give very short answers to those people and let them carry the bulk of the exchange of words. It’s such a small thing to actually pay attention to someone’s dialog. But it’s such a big thing.

My boyfriend has told me the same story about one of his life experiences three times. Two things there. Is he asking me, indirectly to help him heal from it? Or does he think I haven’t listened before and he really needs me to hear how important that is to him? If it’s the second, I’ve failed him. But that’s for us to sort.

The church at large has had to find a new way to communicate with it’s congregants. I’m watching the back and forth between people of differing views. It keeps pulling me to Luke 18:9-14. “He (Jesus) also told this parable to some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous, and treated others with contempt: “Two men went up into the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. The Pharisee, standing by himself, prayed thus: ‘God, I thank you that I am not like other men, extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week; I give tithes of all that I get.’ But the tax collector, standing far off, would not even lift up his eyes to heaven, but beat his breast, saying, ‘God, be merciful to me, a sinner!’ I tell you, this man went down to his house justified, rather than the other. For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, but the one who humbles himself will be exalted.””

Two men who have the same purpose: prayer. Two different styles of communication: the flamboyant and the downcast.  While the Pharisee may have started his speech with “God” he continued with “I”. In the words of three year olds everywhere: Look at me! Look at me! Look at me! His intended audience was not God, but the world. He’s a smooth talker with ulterior motives. The tax collector is having a freak out.  His posture, language, and position in the temple all speak to someone who doesn’t want to be seen. He cannot bring himself lift his eyes to the only One he wants to hear his supplication. He doesn’t care if the world sees him where he is. He needs God to meet him where he is. And God does.

All the pretty words of the Pharisee were like cannon fire within a symphony: exciting, loud, vibrant, and self advertising.  Unlike the tax collector, the Pharisee went home unchanged.  What if the Pharisee had chosen to pay attention to the God he was talking to instead of his own next statement? His pride deafened him from hearing the voice of the One he was in a position to serve. If the cannons had been used in the beginning of the overture the sweetness of the strings would be lost. By interrupting our own prayer time with self importance we miss the sweetness of the Spirit that comforts us. The tax collector received justification from God by not trying to justify his own sinful actions.

I don’t know what church in the near future looks like. But it can’t just be a bunch of gloating braggarts proclaiming what they do right. It needs to be a group of humble servants whose purpose is to hear from God and then go do His will.  1 Corinthians 13:1.  “If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal.” All parts of the orchestra have their specific role as does the church whether it’s the sweet strings of praise and worship, the brass of solid theology, or the percussion of correction. We can’t just ring the church bells of welcome and hope for the best. We also can’t shoot cannons of pride laden judgement to divert attention away from the need for repentance.

Jesus is returning soon for His bride. I’m convinced we will be singing Hallelujah on that day. It will exceed anything the classical composers have going on. Conversation that day will be either “Enter in” or “I never knew you.” No interrupting. No plea bargaining. No list of awesome achievements. There will be no audience to ooh and ahh. Before that day comes we need to follow the example of the tax collector. What truly needs said? What conversation really needs to happen? Where is our heart while we are communicating?

The greatest conversation starter ever is in Luke 9:20a:  “Then he (Jesus) said to them, “But who do you say that I am?”  How we answer that question daily is how we will walk with God. We can either be harmonious or clashing. One disciple got it right: “And Peter answered, “The Christ of God.”  

 

Here’s a link to the 1812 Overture. Sit back and enjoy the ride.