"The highest mission of music is to serve as a link between God and men (and women). It builds a bridge over which angelic hosts can come closer to mankind."
The highest (and really, the only) mission of man is to serve God. To those whom He has given the blessing and burden of being musical, their service must be embodied in music. Similarly, to those whom He has given the blessing and burden of architectural talents, their service must be embodied in their architecture (To whom much is given, much is required). So, it's not really a matter of what music does, but what a musician does.
I wouldn’t necessarily disagree with the content of the given quote as much as with the emphasis. The author makes it sound like music is something special; something that does what nothing else can. Perhaps when we no longer see through the glass dimly and are united with Christ, or perhaps when I just learn more, I will see that to be completely true. Until then, my experience is that music is simply a tool God has given to man to experience communication. Granted, He has given more of this particular tool to some than to others, but the purpose does not change at all. Different people appreciate expressions of these tools to different degrees. For example, I know nearly nothing about architecture, but I still feel some awe when looking at huge structures or intricate and complex buildings. I fully expect that my appreciation for that building comes no where close to that of the original designer. That doesn't keep me from hearing something beautiful expressed through it.
Conversely, there have been times I was completely in awe of some thing for which I had no ability to comprehend its complexity: a piece of art, an electrical schematic, or the inner workings of a large machine or small computer. I have often been embarrassed by the nonchalant response of a more knowledgeable person when beholding the very same thing: “That’s no big deal. I used to make those as a warm-up each day before I really went to work.”
The thing spoke greatly to me of magnificence. I hope that in those situations I would attribute that magnificence to the working and evidence of God. When thinking of God and His workings, nothing should ever be allowed to diminish our awe before Him (education being one of the greatest culprits). We should always keep our initial respect, and, as the Bible puts appropriately puts it, “fear” before God. Never should we allow longevity of experience and education to push the fear of God from our forefront as if God were a magician and we could learn how He does His tricks. I say this to prevent misunderstanding about the following statement: a professional, educated in a particular field, should be the expert in the function of his or her trade. Being a person on that path, it seems so far that music is not something special; something that does what nothing else can.
For a number of years I worked as a janitor at a church, and found myself some days being quite excited about the “art” of cleaning. I washed the windows until they sparkled and nearly found pleasure in watching someone run straight into a window because it was so clean that they didn’t even recognize its presence. It may sound odd to you, but as I left the bathrooms some late nights, I would look back and see the beautiful job I had done and feel a sense of pride of my nearly artistic masterpiece. I’m sure if you took the time, you would find you have had the same feeling about some task you’ve had to complete in an area of personal responsibility. Of course, there were also days – the majority of the days – where I did not particularly enjoy the act of cleaning others’ messes. Yet, on the days of drudgery that God blessed me with more grace and allowed some of His character to show through, I may have done the same quality of job as if I had been enjoying it, but it was not nearly as fun. For me, music has been nearly the same, just cleaner. I have the option of doing it with the recognition that God is indeed watching me and is hoping to be pleased, in which case it is an act of “service” (to be used interchangeably with “worship” (“…this is your spiritual act of worship”). I also have the choice to do it monotonously as an occupation, in which case it is no more a link between me and God than any other act, regardless of the beauty of the product.
There is one major difference between the janitor job and the music jobs I have: I feel much more compelled, a much deeper urging to become a great musician than I do to be a great window cleaner. I don’t think that superiority of that force necessarily comes from any superiority music would have over cleaning, (in fact, there seems to be sufficient Biblical evidence that a cleaning job is even superior in heavenly value than a musical job), but now I refer back to the blessing and burden of which I originally spoke. To accomplish this most poetically, I defer to C.S. Lewis (While I wholly disagree with some of his theology, I find his approach creative and expressive, allowing me to love what I agree with and quite despise what I don’t). In fact, now that I read it again, I think it states what I have already tried to explain:
“There have been times when I think we do not desire heaven; but more often I find myself wondering whether, in our heart of hearts, we have ever desired anything else. You may have noticed that the books you really love are bound together by a secret thread. You know very well what is the common quality that makes you love them, though you cannot put it into words: but most of your friends do not see it at all, and often wonder why, liking this, you should also like that. Again, you have stood before some landscape, which seems to embody what you have been looking for all you life; and then turned to the friend at your side who appears to be seeing what you saw – but at the first words a gulf yawns between you, and you realize that this landscape means something totally different to him, that he is pursuing an alien vision and cares nothing for the ineffable suggestion by which you are transported. Even in your hobbies, has there not always been some secret attraction which the others are curiously ignorant of – something, not to be identified with, but always on the verge of breaking through, the smell of cut wood in the workshop or the clap-clap of water against the boat’s side? Are no all lifelong friendships born at the moment when at last you meet another human being who has some inkling (but faint and uncertain even in the best) of that something which you were born desiring, and which, beneath the flux of other desires and in all the momentary silences between the louder passions, night and day, year by year, from childhood to old age, you are looking for, watching for, listening for?...This signature on each soul may be a product of heredity and environment, but that only means that heredity and environment are among the instruments whereby God creates a soul…He makes each soul unique…All that you are, sins apart, is destined, if you will let God have His good way, to utter satisfaction…Your place in heaven wil seem to be made for you and you alone, because you were made for it – made for it stitch by stitch as a glove is made for a hand.”
-Problem of Pain, C.S. Lewis, chapter 10
There is a quote I saw quite some time ago, and I have tried desperately to track down, because it was the beginning of my thinking artistically about music and its effect on me. I think it was by Igor Stravinsky and it said something to the effect of, “…make the salary of the musician less; the reward of the artist void of fame or social stature. Then, only those compelled by the possession of that demon will continue in artistic pursuit.” No doubt I am completely butchering the quote, but the important concept is hopefully still there: there are people with an inexplicable desire to attain to art, and those people will do it at any cost. When they find it, the reward is more fulfilling than all other rewards. This is also what makes it a burden. Until that thing or things are found, nothing else will do and nothing else can ever take the place of that thing.
This feeling (though I fear to call it a feeling in these days since a feeling is less scientific and thus, less accepted as legitimate than a “knowledge” gained from experiment on atoms) is one of the things that will always compel me to believe there is something else fantastic, ominous, and deserving of awe - something more real and of such greater substance than myself, my occupations, or even my music. I am almost playing along with another song that was playing long before I started and needs me not. It will undoubtedly continue without me, and there is less than nothing I could do to stop it or even soften it for those who can hear it. It’s how I am told how small I really am. For me, music is not really even so much about how we communicate with God as how God communicates with us.
