Almost 50 years ago, two things happened that did not seem all that important at the time. The first was accompanying a friend to a concert by Kenny Burrell, a legendary jazz guitarist, then reading the review in the paper. It seemed to us the reviewer had attended a completely different event. We both thought the performance was fantastic and we were glad we went. The critic wrote about how the performance did not live up to his expectations. His review left us wondering whether we were wrong or the reviewer was just hard to please.
Many years later, I read an essay by the 18th Century flutist and author, J.J. Quantz. Maestro Quantz pointed out that there are four elements to consider in evaluating music: the composer, the piece, the performance, and the audience. Any one of these can affect how a piece is received. His analysis helped me understand what might have happened to Mr. Burrell. A good composer can write a good piece and have it performed by a fine artist and yet the audience might reject it or accept it based on their frame of mind at the time. The critic may have had a fight with his wife, or a difficult trip to the venue, or any one of a dozen problems leading up to the concert. On the other hand, I was there with a good friend, primed to hear a great artist play a style of music that I loved. Expectations can make all the difference.
The second thing was reading C.S. Lewis’ “Space Trilogy” for the first time. Re-reading these stories has been enlightening. In many ways, the trilogy is an extended discussion of good versus evil, an exploration of what it means to choose the right path.
An important point is expressed by the Green Lady in Perelandra, “You could send your soul after the good you had expected, instead of turning it to the good you had got. You could refuse the real good; you could make the real fruit taste insipid by thinking of the other… it is I, I myself, who turn from the good expected to the given good. Out of my own heart I do it. One can conceive a heart which did not: which clung to the good it had first thought of and turned the good which was given it into no good.”
We all make these kinds of decisions every day. We can expect, or desire, a good to be what it once was or just the way we want it to be, rather than look for the good in what we are given. Some are so disappointed that “things ain’t what they used to be,” they want to turn back the clock to some great time in the past. Some resist new ideas or experiences. Others choose to walk away from their significant others, because they no longer “meet their needs,” even though they might become an even greater gift than before. Unlike dogs, who greet each day, each treat, each meal, each cuddle, each moment with us as if it is the best ever, we humans can poison our experiences by comparing them to our desires.
Often, we don’t know what is good. We let others tell us, or sell us, what they believe we should want. Our slums and tenements, crumbling infrastructure, oil and chemical spills, animal extinctions, landfills, tent cities, food deserts, homeless people, world wars, and continuing conflicts bear witness to the ways a given good can be turned “into no good.” We all want what we want, no matter what the cost to others.
Maybe our fall from grace can be described as a fall from gratitude. In the 1980’s we were told, “Greed is good.” Our system is based on getting as much as we can before we die, even if that means only one percent of us can get it. The Bible warns against greed. All wisdom literature counsels us to be thankful for our blessings and to look after one another. It seems to me the point of religion is to learn to love rather than hate. And this involves seeking something higher than our self-centered preconceptions.
Some would argue that no matter what path we choose, or how far we stray from the right path, things will ultimately turn out just fine. They point to the great works of man – mighty cities, sky-high buildings, superhighways, suspension bridges, hyper cars, supersonic aircraft, consumer electronics, creative arts, moon rockets, wonder drugs, the world-wide web, as well as our curiosity, generosity, and resilience.
Here is Ransom’s reply in Perelandra: “Whatever you do, He will make good of it. But not the good He had prepared for you if you had obeyed Him. That is lost forever. The first King and first Mother of our world did the forbidden thing, and He brought good of it in the end. But what they did was not good, and what they lost we have not seen. And there were some to whom no good came nor ever will come.”
As long as we insist on having things our way, no good will come to many among us. In Lewis’ previous book, Out of the Silent Planet, the three sentient species of Malacandra all seek to follow the guardian spirit of their planet, one called, Oyarsa. On Thulcandra (Earth) we tend to follow whoever is most powerful, charismatic, or popular, or just do whatever we believe is right. Is this because God has forsaken us? Or is it because we want to be in control, to decide what’s right and wrong? On Malacandra, Ransom hears this exchange about why the Earth is the silent planet:
“It is because they have no Oyarsa,” said one of the pupils. “It is because every one of them wants to be a little Oyarsa himself,” said Augray.
Perhaps we should keep this observation in mind.
MurrayWorks 