My Part

July 24, 2019

Sometimes you just need the group. I’m sitting up in bed as I write these words; to my left stands my upright bass, a beautiful old 1936 King with spruce top and curly maple back and sides. My mind keeps playing the melody to “Have You Ever Begun to Wonder,” one of the songs from last spring’s Cassadaga Valley Musical, “James and the Giant Peach.” The music was, to say the least, challenging. The pianist for that production was a music teacher who had accompanied scores of musicals; he told me that this was by far the most difficult musical he had ever done. Apparently, I cut my musical teeth on gristle and bone. 

I had to work at it. Hard. Even after four performances, there was one song where I never was able to find my place, and for most of the others, my playing was hit or miss, with the emphasis on the “miss.” But I worked at it. Hard. And bit by bit, though I never got good, I got better. Now, every time I pick up that bass, one of the first things I do is run through the intro to “Have You Ever Begun to Wonder.” I never fully mastered it for the musical, but it is such an interesting line that I kept working at it till I got it right. Most of the time. 

Playing bass is an interesting pastime. Unlike the flute, clarinet, or trumpet, the bassist rarely carries a melody, which makes practicing a bit of a challenge. Practice often consists of playing a run of notes that by themselves make little sense. It’s only in the context of the entire band that bass lines come into their own. The bass is rarely the star; that honor belongs to the horns, the keyboards, the lead guitarist. The bass is, along with the drummer, the foundation of the band, and as in buildings, foundations are rarely flashy, and only draw attention to themselves when they fail. Otherwise, they are often unnoticed. They need the rest of the band to make sense of the music, and the band needs them to keep the beat.

The musical is long past, and without that context, I find it hard to practice. I’m pretty much a hack, and need instruction and direction that I’m not getting right now. As I reflect on it, my playing the bass is analogous to my Christian life. Much of it doesn’t make sense if I’m just by myself. I need the context of being a part of the “band,” the Church, the people of God, if the odd notes I’m playing in my life are to have any meaning. It’s only with the rest of God’s people that the part I am playing begins to fit into a larger melody that I cannot discern when I’m living this life all by myself. I live better, pray better, think better, and love better when I am with others. Tonight I am grateful for my bass; it’s a beautiful old instrument that deserves a better musician than I am. But it’s not just the instrument; I am thankful for how it reminds me how I need to live my life in the context of the Body of Christ if any of it is to make any sense, and if there is to be a melody of praise worthy of the Composer and Maestro.