For Wilshire Baptist Church
When did symphony audiences start applauding after every movement of a multi-movement piece? We went to the Dallas Symphony recently and were surprised to find that was happening. I wasn’t triggered by it, but I was definitely annoyed because “that’s not the way I was raised,” as we say.
Just to make sure I’m not out of bounds on this, I did a quick Google search and discovered my opinion is shared. Source after source says the same thing: silence between movements should be the norm. However, I also learned it’s a relatively new tradition somewhat influenced by technology. In Mozart’s day, applauding and even talking was welcomed during and between movements because composers liked the energy and adulation. In the late 1800s, composers began asking for silence, and with the advent of recording in the early 1900s, silence was expected. What’s more, it caught on with audiences who appreciated how silence between movements accentuated the unity of a multi-movement piece.
I agree with that rationale and would add that silence between movements helps set the stage for what comes next. Applause after a quiet adagio breaks the mood and in fact blunts the jolt and surprise of a brisk allegro that might follow. Silence after an allegro can help quiet the spirit and the pulse for a coming adagio, but applause puts the squeeze on that silence.
The reality is silence is in short supply these days. Our culture is geared for sound, and the higher the decibel, the better. It’s getting harder and harder to find a restaurant where you can have a conversation given the hard surfaces, music and ever-present video screens. Been to a college or professional sporting event lately? It used to be the only noise would come from the fans, the announcers and the bands. That could be loud enough, but now recorded music fills the void when the bands aren’t playing, and sometimes even when they are playing. What’s worse, it’s cranked up to such a high volume it vibrates the seats, not to mention the bones.
I wonder what all this noise is doing to our bodies. Maybe it’s my age or maybe it’s the age we live in, but my email and social media feeds are filled with news and remedies for tinnitus, that constant buzzing, ringing sound many people experience. I’ve become a victim myself no doubt because of the noise that constantly bombards me.
I also wonder what all this noise is doing to our spirits. “Silence is golden” used to be a platitude about how valuable and beneficial silence can be, but now it’s more a commentary on how you’re as likely to find silence as you are to find a gold nugget. I find that sad because silence indeed can be so beneficial. Silence marks transitions, clears the mind, and gives time and place to ponder what we’ve just heard or experienced.
At Wilshire we’ve injected silence into worship after the message. I thought that was sort of awkward at first – sitting quietly with nothing happening – but now I embrace the opportunity to “pause in silence to reflect and to be attentive to the Spirit of God,” as it says in the order of worship.
That kind of silence is holy, but holy silence doesn’t only happen at church. It’s there when you hold a lover’s hand, look deeply into a pair of aging eyes, gaze across a sweeping vista or listen to the last breaths of a dying friend. In those moments, silence becomes a holy place for communication of the most sincere and intense variety.
Which takes me back to the symphony for a moment: The silence between movements also gives the conductor an opportunity to communicate with the musicians if needed. It might be a whispered word, but often it is a raised eyebrow, a head nod, a hand signal. When I was in the band in high school and college, I experienced this. And the message from the director, whether whispered or visual, was often some variation of: “Take a deep breath, keep your focus, listen to each other, you’ve got this.”
I wonder what God is wanting to tell us in the silence?