Don't Bang the Drum

“It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing."

Shakespeare’s description, voiced by Macbeth, of the futility of life reminds me of how we in modern times live our lives enveloped in the continuous noise of TV and music and talk radio and websites and advertising – lots of sound and fury, signifying nothing.

I’m trying to learn to embrace the emptiness: to not fill in the spaces with “sound and fury”. It’s in the emptiness and the silences that I sense God and sometimes hear His "still small voice". It’s hard. I’m conditioned, and perhaps addicted, to stimuli.

I read recently that more than half of Beethoven's music consists of silence. In a commencement address to the Berklee School of Music, Sting said the following: "I'm wondering whether, as musicians, the most important thing we do is merely to provide a frame for silence. I'm wondering if silence itself is perhaps the mystery at the heart of music? And is silence the most perfect music of all?"

In the Quaker tradition, worship gatherings are built around silence. Silence is the central defining characteristic. Robert Lawrence Smith describes a Quaker meeting thusly:

“The traditional Quaker form of silent group worship has no parallel in other religions and has changed very little since the seventeenth century. What others call a religious “service”, Friends [Quakers] call a “Meeting for Worship”, emphasizing that there is no liturgy and that worshippers come together as equal participants … Quakers are unique in their appreciation of the spiritual power of group silence … Quaker Meeting uses shared silence as a medium of group discovery, as a way of sharing ourselves with others – and with God.”

How different a one hour Quaker silent meeting is from the one hour church meeting that I often attend where every moment is filled with something. There can be no silences, no dead air. The service is a whirlwind of songs, an opening prayer, announcements, a sermon, a closing prayer, a closing song and “see you next week”. There is almost a palpable fear of allowing any emptiness to encroach.

For emptiness and silence bring uncertainty. What will happen? Will God speak? Will someone fart or fall asleep or fail to be entertained? When we embrace emptiness we must relinquish control.

There's a great worship song by Scott Underwood that says, "We will stand back and let you move, stand back and see what you will do." Easy to sing. Hard to do.

I was in the car today, not embracing silence but listening to The Best of the Waterboys. One of the songs jumped out at me as if illuminated by the Holy Spirit. I have no idea what the songwriter was referring to when he wrote this, but to me, “Don’t Bang the Drum” is an apt metaphor for letting go of the sound, the fury, the busyness and instead embracing the emptiness, the silence, the uncertainty.

Don’t Bang the Drum
(by Scott / Wallinger, © 1986 Ensign Records Ltd.)

Well here we are in a special place
What are you gonna do here?
Now we stand in a special place
What will you do here?
What show of soul are we gonna get from you?
It could be deliverance, or history
Under these skies so blue
Could be something true
But if I know you
You'll bang the drum
Like monkeys do

Here we are in a fabulous place
What are you gonna dream here?
We are standing in this fabulous place
What are you gonna play here?
I know you love the high life
You love to leap around
You love to beat your chest and make your sound
But not here man, this is sacred ground
With a Power flowing through
But if I know you
You'll bang the drum
Like monkeys do

Here we stand on a rocky shore
Your father stood here before you
I can see his ghost explore you
I can feel the sea implore you
Not to pass on by
Not to walk on by
And not to try
Just to let it come
Don't bang the drum
Just let it come
Don't bang the drum
Just let it come…