169 Times and Counting

DUM — da-da-da — DUM — da-da-da — DUM — da-da-da

It was during our First Form music lesson with our teacher Edgar Brown that I first heard Maurice Ravel’s Boléro, played on the school’s only gramophone. I was captivated.

However, in those far-off days, there was no easy way of listening to Ravel’s masterpiece. We didn’t have a record player and, even if we had, there was no way I could afford to buy the LP. This meant week after week of searching through the Radio Times’ Third Network schedule – sadly, to no effect.

Wonderfully, just yesterday evening, some 65 years later, I was able to hear the composition performed live for the first time, at the Phil, by the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra conducted by Dinis Sousa. It was worth the wait.

Boléro is also one of the strangest experiments in musical history. For approximately fifteen minutes, Ravel takes two melodies, repeats them almost without alteration, and gradually increases the volume by introducing more and more instruments. 

The genius of Boléro lies in its simplicity. The snare drum establishes a rhythm that continues almost unaltered throughout, while the orchestra gradually becomes louder and richer, each instrument – so to speak – taking its turn. Being able to see the orchestra play in their various combinations added an extra dimension

Without question, the hero is the percussionist. For fifteen long minutes, the snare drummer is the heartbeat of the performance. While the orchestral colours change and the music rises towards its overwhelming climax, the drummer repeats the same rhythmic figure 169 times.  For the opening bars I could scarcely see his hands move, such was the delicacy of his touch.

No wonder the audience last night gave the orchestra a standing ovation.

And perhaps that is the remarkable thing about Boléro. Amid all the growing excitement and the extraordinary sound of the orchestra, everything depends on one musician quietly keeping the rhythm.

Just staying on course is everything.

When it comes to the Christian life, we all have a part to play in God’s glorious symphony. In fact, the apostle Paul celebrates the gift of God’s grace in the way that each disciple has a particular part to play, each unique and indispensable. However, the picture he uses isn’t a symphony orchestra but the human body.

So he writes: “Indeed, the body does not consist of one member but of many.” (1 Corinthians 12:14). And he goes on to outline the various members of the body and the different ministries with which the Holy Spirit has equipped us, each equally important.

He goes on to explain that there are parts of the body which might appear to be of lower status. Not so, he argues. In other words, for the full symphony of God’s glory, each player is indispensable.

And so there are ministries, like the snare drummer in Boléro, which are indispensable precisely because those involved just keep at it – even as other players take their turn in the more visible ministries upfront. We all need to be inspired by gifted preachers – but what about the person overseeing the sound desk?

Or, even more pertinent, the lead singer in the music group may be inspirational, but what about the poor person responsible for getting the correct words on the screen? 

I wonder how often we underestimate the importance of faithfully doing what God has called us to do. Not everyone is called to play the leading melody. Some of us may be called to provide the steady rhythm which enables others to flourish.

As Mother Teresa once observed, "We are called upon not to be successful, but to be faithful."

And perhaps that is the real challenge. Not whether our contribution attracts attention or applause, but whether we can be relied upon to keep going, even when nobody seems to notice.

And this is where the church needs to take particular care. It is all too easy to celebrate those whose gifts are exercised in public, while overlooking those whose faithful service makes everything else possible, an unrelenting daily rhythm even.  

Think of the person who quietly visits someone who is housebound, the church member who has prayed faithfully for the same people for years, or the volunteer who arrives early every Sunday to put out the chairs. None is likely to receive a standing ovation. Yet without such people, much of our church life would simply grind to a halt.

Perhaps we should be rather more generous with our encouragement, making sure that those who quietly keep the rhythm know just how much they are valued.

And, of course, there will be times when we lose the beat, when our faith falters and our commitment weakens. Thankfully, the Christian life is not a performance in which one mistake ruins everything. God's grace allows us to begin again.

For that is surely the encouragement of Boléro. Amid all the excitement and the extraordinary sound of the orchestra, everything depends on someone faithfully keeping the rhythm.

DUM — da-da-da — DUM — da-da-da — DUM — da-da-da

Just staying on course is everything.