Friday, October 23, 2009

The Orchestration of Rebellion

The room is hushed, still. A staccato tapping of footsteps draws back the silence like a curtain. He holds this position because he was made for it, and he takes his place beside the first chair. At his signal, a single note multiplied by many instruments rings true and sweet across the hall. Then all is hushed and quiet once again. Expectancy seizes the mood as He enters. Tails of His tuxedo swishing slightly, the Maestro exudes a confident calm as he takes His place on the conductor's box. Now the performance can begin!


The strains of beautiful melody wrap around the hall as the strings begin followed by the woodwinds. The brass musicians join their talent to the song and the percussion punctuates the rhythm. The spectators relax and enjoy as inspiration flows to them from that indescribable medium of music.

Suddenly, the unadulterated harmony is interrupted. It is subtle at first, leaving each listener to suppose it is only in his or her mind. However, as the melody continues, a counter-melody dissonant to the first is clearly heard. Those in the audience shift uncomfortably and glance furtively at those around to see if they are the only ones to notice. A few lean forward in their seats. A whisper repeats itself along the front row: "It is the second violinist!" Only a moment later, the concertmaster looks toward her with questioning eyes. Another brief second and annoyance floods his features. His gaze jerks to the Maestro to see what is to be done, but He stands with hands clasped behind his back, eyes to His Music with a look of sadness on His face.

When the original melody stops completely, only that of the second violinist is heard. She appears to be unaware that she is playing an impromptu solo until the indignant concertmaster rises to his feet and stands before her.

"What are you doing?!" His voice thunders and hauntingly echoes back from where moments before beautiful tones had resonated. Unconcernedly, she finishes her bow stroke and slowly stands to face him.

"I like this piece better." Her voice is softer but due to the masterfully planned acoustics of the room is just as easily heard as his own. As his rage renders him speechless, she continues, "I have worked just as hard as you have. I am just as valuable as you. I will no longer take orders from you as to what and how I must play." The absurdity of the words cause the concertmaster to spin to enlist support from the Maestro, Who truly gives the orders. He stands with head bowed, the look of sadness settled more deeply over His features. The concertmaster turns to the other violinists who are watching with widened eyes. The second violinist moves to his vacant chair and picks up the melody where she left off earlier. The other violinists with a backward glance to the other strings, pick up their own violins and begin to play as well, each of them their own distinct melody. One by one, then section by section, the rest of the instruments follow suit.

The cacophony of sounds irritates the observers. Some stride from the hall while others lean forward to see what will happen next. The concertmaster looks to the Maestro once again and joins him on the conductor's box, calling in His ear to be heard, "Why do you not stop them?! This is an absolute disgrace." He merely nods and looks thoughtfully over what was once His orchestra, now playing as over 100 individuals.

"I give them the Score, I teach them in rehearsal, I lead them as they look to Me, but I will not make them follow."

The Composer looks on, His eyes reflecting the sadness of the Maestro.

"What happened? Why do they insist upon ignoring their talents, their unity, the Gift You have given?" They gaze down from beside Him with consternation.

"They have forgotten their purpose to send the music back to me, it's Creator. They have rejected my Score and the Maestro's leading. Their pride has reduced them to a dissonance which attracts no one to My Music." One leans toward Him, "It is she who began it...", he points, "the rebellion." He nods, "Yes, it is she who began it. Again."

Photo by Graham Binns
"Speaking to yourselves in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing and making melody in your heart to the Lord; ....Submitting yourselves one to another in the fear of God...For the husband is the head of the wife, even as Christ is the head of the church: and he is the saviour of the body." -Ephesians 5:19, 21, 23

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