Playing the Rest

The other day while reading the Rev. Thom Shuman's "Occasional Sightings of the Gospel", I came across an interesting concept: playing the rest. In music, it's not only the notes and rhythms that are important, but also the silence of the rests. The gentleman in Thom's story taught the VBS kids (and adults) to "play the rest" by raising their arms to signify the silence. Thom then suggested that when Jesus went out into the wilderness or mountains, he was 'playing the rests'.

Silence. Those moments when there is nothing but space, the direction is unclear. You know something will happen at some point, but aren't completely sure when it will happen or what it will even be. It's kind of an odd feeling when you're in the midst of it.

It's funny, though. Even the silence is not truly silent. Turn off all the appliances and you still hear bugs buzzing, the breeze blowing, cars zipping past, people banging on roofs (the computer humming *chuckle*).

Once I had the opportunity to visit an anechoic chamber. It's a room that is so completely soundproofed that no noise from outside can enter in, and no noise made within the room echoes or reverberates. Noise is sounded, then immediately dies. The tour guide had us sit perfectly still, turned off the lights, then had us sit in the silence. Perfect silence. ... or so it seemed.

Yet even in a room where no noise lives for any length of time, where its inhabitants were deliberately maintaining silence, it soon became apparent that we could not escape noise. We carried within us the sound which could be heard even in the silence - the sound of a heart beating rhythmically. lub-dub ... lub-dub ... lub-dub ...

I still haven't completely figured out why these two images keep coming to mind - playing the rest and the anechoic chamber. Somehow they're inextricably intertwined, a faith statement. Even in the midst of a rest, in the depth of complete silence, we are not alone. Surrounding us are reminders of the One who brought us into being. Maybe these two images come together because even when 'playing the rest', there is constant beneath it a rhythm which one cannot escape. hmmmmmm..... Have to do some more thinking about that.