The Difference Between Noise and Music
Readings (From the Daily Office, Book of Common Prayer 2019):
1 Samuel 5
1 Corinthians 14:1-19
Luke 14:7-14
I remember the first day I played a guitar. It was perhaps not the first time that I had ever plucked a string or held a guitar in my hands, but it was, to my knowledge, the first time I had ever sat down with the intention of learning to play actual music. I was about thirteen years old. I painfully and slowly transitioned from a G chord to a D chord and vice versa. I am sure that it sounded awful.
But despite that, it was a step beyond noise. Noise and music are different things. Anyone can make noise, but not every noise is music. Music has a form, rules. Yes, composers like John Cage bend and break those rules, but there is intention in those compositions. Even the greatest jazz improvisors are bound by intention. Improvisation does not entail a lack of intention, but a great degree of deliberateness and skill. It is far from random.
There is a difference between music and noise. Thankfully for those of us who are less musically inclined, the Scriptures encourage us to make a joyful noise to the Lord. But while that means we all can and should worship the Lord with our voices, that does not mean that all of us are called to be musicians.
The Apostle Paul knew the difference between music and noise. You can hear it in our New Testament reading for today: “If even lifeless instruments, such as the flute or the harp, do not give distinct notes, how will anyone know what is played? And if the bugle gives an indistinct sound, who will get ready for battle?” Noise doesn’t have the power that music does. Noise doesn’t cause the reaction that music does. A blast from a bugle on a Saturday morning may cause a sense of annoyance and a rolling over in bed, but a spirited playing of reverie, as happened at least twice I believe in my house growing up courtesy of my Dad, is much more likely to get sleepy kids up from their slumber.
But the main difference between music and noise that Paul points out in this passage is that music is communal while noise is not. If I begin to screech and howl and expect you all to join in with me, that would be ridiculous. But if I started singing a song, even if you don’t know the tune at first, you are much more likely to join in.
So what is Paul’s point? Instructions for church musicians to be halfway decent on their instruments? No, Paul’s point is much broader than that. In this and in the surrounding chapters of 1 Corinthians, Paul is directing the Corinthian Church in the way of proper worship: worship that glorifies God and unites the community, worship that doesn’t center individuals, but centers God. And in this particular chapter, he’s talking about the use of our spiritual gifts.
God gifts his people in many ways for the building up of his Church. For as many of us who are Christians, there is a unique set of gifts that God can use to build his Kingdom. But our gifts can be used in ways that are like noise and in ways that are like music. Using our gifts like noise is to center ourselves, alienating others. Using our gifts like music means to draw others in, facilitate the worship of God, and to de-center ourselves.
This is something we tend to struggle with in the Church. Paul speaks directly in this passage to the gift of tongues, a beautiful gift of worship that Paul himself says he has received, but also a gift that can be misused to alienate others when it centers the one who has received that gift and doesn’t build the Church up. And so Paul encourages that public speaking in tongues ought to be accompanied by an interpretation. In this way, the whole Church is uplifted by the gift.
When I was early in my serving life in the Church, which for me first took shape in music ministry, I struggled with this. In my experience, there were very few examples of folks who played and led music in Church where it didn’t seem to be all about them and their talents. We’re talking stage lights and fog machines, a regular rock concert vibe. I felt the pull myself to be liked and admired for what I could do. The whole system seemed to be designed to inflate the egos of those who were gifted (and those who were questionably gifted but had an over-inflated view of that gift). The Church was not so much built up as the individuals were built up.
Thankfully, I met good mentors along the way and worshipped in spaces where the band was not center, but to the side or even seated behind the congregation. I learned from pastors like David Clifton, who chose song keys not primarily based in his vocal range, but in what would be the most singable for the congregation. God gives gifts to build up his Church, not to build up those who have received gifts.
When the receiver of gifts is elevated above the Giver of gifts, that is a situation ripe for all kinds of problems. How many leaders have fallen and churches been torn apart because the gifted leader became the center of the community instead of God? How many of the sheep have been eaten up or left the faith because of a wrongly-ordered view of gifting?
Centering the gifted individual before the community or the God who gives the gift leads to false worship of a false god. And like Dagon in our Old Testament reading for today, that false god has no standing before the one true God.
There was no Gospel reading assigned to us in the Daily Office toady, and so I chose Jesus’ words about how to act when invited to a dinner party as a way for us to consider and evaluate the way we receive and use our gifts in the Church. When you are invited to a dinner, Jesus’ advice is to not take the place of honor for yourself. That is setting yourself up for embarrassment when the person for whom that space was intended arrives. Rather, Jesus says to take the lowest place. That way, when you are called into a higher place, it is to your honor.
When we use our gifts that God has given us to center ourselves — in the Church, in our working life, in our families — we have missed the point. God has given us gifts for his glory and for the building up of his people. Centering ourselves is to set ourselves up for disaster. We are not God. We will fail even in the areas where we are gifted. We are not perfect. If we have centered ourselves, we will take failure and difficulty as signs to quit, signs that God has abandoned us. We may even abandon our gift. What a tragedy that would be. So we should return to the words of Paul: “So with yourselves, since you are eager for manifestations of the Spirit, strive to excel in building up the church.”
De-centering ourselves as we use our gifts is hard, daily, painful work. On that first day I began to learn to play the guitar, my fingers were in pain. That is because I had not yet developed the necessary callouses on my hands. I remember the deep red lines in my fingers and the way they stung hours after the music had faded. Making music instead of noise meant that I needed to go through a bit of struggle. But if I wanted to play music, I had to keep practicing. And it continued to hurt, especially in those first days. Every now and then, nearly two decades later, If I don’t play for a while, I get an echo of that same pain. But it is much easier now to push through, because those callouses are well developed. The pain is much less when it rarely comes.
We can do the hard work of using our gifts in a way that builds up the Church and centers God alone, but it will include struggle. Turning noise into music always does. But the beauty that we will produce, in the Church and in the world, is absolutely worth it.
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