Harmony

There's a moment in one of my favourite pieces of music- 'O Magnum Mysterium' by Lauridsen, of what I might call 'planned disharmony'- a dissonance in the singing which makes its presence all the more noticeable among the lovely slow meditation on some of the wonder of the Incarnation; the music is part of the special settings for the Christmas season.

And listening to music generally, I often find myself concentrating not on the air, the melody, but the harmonies; what are the trumpets doing, the oboes, the basses, at this point? Where are they going, what are they adding, in relation to the main thrust and direction of the music? It's noticeable, in listening to a piece of music in this way, that not all the voices of a band, and orchestra, have to add to the music at any given point. They can be silent; only those who have work to do are heard at any point. The 'heavy work' may be being done by the strings, but for colour, emphasis, underlining, or many other reasons, the brass may accompany them. Or part of the woodwind section. Maybe for a few bars only. And it seems to me that the essence of harmony in music is that there may be a number of different lines of expression being explored- the double bass is playing a different line to the flute- but that all are within sight of each other, and all working to a common end- that of aiding the work in the 'now' in a euphonious way, and towards the greater goal of moving the music to an appropriate conclusion, as the composer wishes; glorious, subdued, whatever.

This has much to teach us both in civil society, with its present 'discourse' marked by braying, disharmony and shouting; and in the church too. Unity will not mean that we all sing the same song, but it will mean we are all in hearing distance of each other, and are taking note of each other's line towards the end of glorifying God. May it be so, Amen!