"THE MUSIC OF THE SPHERES"

A Sermon by the Rev. Dr. Bruce Clear

Sunday, April 6, 2003

All Souls Unitarian Church

Indianapolis, Indiana

It is hard to imagine life without music. Music has become so much a part of our lives that it seems to be an integral part of nature and of human experience. In fact, in some ways it is. In a book on the relationship between art and physics, Leonard Schlain has this to say about the role of music:

"While art and physics are solely human expressions, music is a common medium for many living forms. Song is the language of birds and whales. Lions, tigers and other animals are soothed by tranquil melodies. It has even been proposed that plants respond to music. The ability of species to generate and respond to music is one of the great unexplained mysteries of nature."

This morning I wish to focus on the place of music as a natural part of life. I do so because this is a special day -- a special musical day. This afternoon our choir will present its Spring concert, this year in honor of our church's centennial celebration, as well as marking the 51^st anniversary of the creation of our choir. I hope everyone here will be able come to the concert at 4:00 p.m.

I take as the title the phrase, "Music of the Spheres," for it seems to me that points to the universal appeal of music.

The phrase "music of the spheres" is actually quite old. It was inspired by the awe people felt in observing the movement in the heavens above. It refers, of course, to the complex and intricate motion of the planets and stars, and what seems like harmony emanating from them. The idea that the stars and planets danced to music is even much older than the use of this phrase. Pythagoras, the ancient mathematician whose theorem we memorized in junior high, and most of us forgot upon graduation, made much of the metaphor between music and the stars. Pythagoras, who lived in the sixth century B.C., believed that everything could be reduced to numbers. He was the first to reduce music to numerical notation, and tried to do the same with the path of the stars and planets. What music shared with the spheres of the heavens, according to what he discovered, was this beautiful sense of mathematical harmony. He even speculated that the planets, as they would spin through space, made harmonious musical sounds. That music can actually be heard, he said, but since we are exposed to it from the moment of our birth, we unable to distinguish it from other sounds.

Plato shared some of Pythagoras' musical metaphors for the heavens, and wrote in his cosmology of the songs of the planets that harmonized together.

You can go back even further to find this metaphor. A thousand years before Plato and Pythagoras, the Hebrew book of Job mentions the beginnings of time when, it says, "The morning stars sang together."

In English, the actual phrase "Music of the Spheres" comes from a long poem by Sir John Davies, written nearly 400 years ago -- before space ships, before telescopes, before planes or trains. Not only before Bernstein, but even before Beethoven. The poem, called "Orchestra," looks to the stars as a vast musical harmony, twirling in concert, like a symphony. The line from which the phrase comes is this:

"Forward and backward

rapt and whirled are

According to the music

of the spheres."

The phrase seems to have struck a chord, so to speak, and it has been used over and over. The harmony that is seen in the celestial drama does strike us like a well-orchestrated piece of music. William Shakespeare, a contemporary of Davies, used the line as well in his play Twelfth Night. In the next century, Sir Thomas Browne elaborated on the metaphor in a theological treatise when he wrote:

"There is music wherever there is harmony, order, or proportion; and thus far we may maintain the music of the spheres."

There is something calming about the bringing order together out of seeming chaos. In the realm of matter it is astounding to consider that billions of years of evolution of what started out as somewhat random combinations of cosmic dust became so astoundingly ordered that the world of matter produced something as beautiful as flower, as majestic as a soaring eagle, or as calming as the ocean surf. Evolution brought all the disparate pieces of chaotic matter together into a soothing order that seems to exist for our enjoyment.

Whatever it is that drives evolution seems inclined to shape the chaotic universe into some kind of sensible order: a balance, a symmetry, a harmony. And so it is also with sound. What could easily have been a chaos of sound is seemingly shaped by all animals in nature into an ordered sense of beauty. There is music in the cosmic sphere of things.

This metaphor makes a lot of sense, and perhaps that is why it has survived over these thousands of years. There is something about the cosmic sky that strikes us as harmonious.

Our lives these days feel so much the chaos of crisis. Our fears are inspired by events outside of our control. One of the comforting qualities of music is that it provides a piece of nature over which we can muster some control. In these times of war and crisis, perhaps more than any other time, we should welcome the reassuring balm that music supplies.

I remember that when, as a child, I was first introduced to the idea of cosmic design, it was presented as if it were some kind of complex mechanical contraption. It may have been in eighth-grade science class that the teacher pulled out a funny-looking model of the sun and planets, with wires and styrofoam balls that would swing around each other, resembling, it seemed, a Rube Goldberg universe. This mechanical devise made sense, and was quite useful in explaining the way the universe works. But now I know there is more to it than that. It is more than a complex mechanical device -- it is also a cosmic piece of art. The spheres are, in the word used by Davies, an "orchestra."

It was probably also in the eighth grade, or thereabout, that I first heard of Pythagoras in a geometry class. If I had learned then what Pythagoras said about the stars and planets, that the paths they traveled followed a great harmony, that the heavens danced as if following great music, it might have helped me in science class as I contemplated the cosmic contraption the teacher demonstrated for us. Come to think of it, if I had known that Pythagoras thought of numbers as an _expression of music, it might have helped me in geometry class as well.

It is said that the early study of astronomy posed a threat to religion. And as religion was taught then, I suppose it did. Religion taught in ancient days that the earth is somehow central to all creation, and that we, the people, are the central focus of the universe. But as astronomers discovered more and more how minor the earth really is in the great scheme of the universe, it undermined the theology which made the earth into God's favorite planet, and our species into God's favorite beings. We are, we discovered, a tiny little piece of the whole, easily overlooked if someone were to study the whole universe -- a speck of sand on a vast seacoast of planets and stars. It is no wonder that astronomy was a threat to what religion taught.

But in another sense, astronomy served to strengthen a different kind of religious view. There is no threat to religion when we re-think religion to fit our expanding knowledge of the world. What astronomy revealed, in demonstrating the complex harmony of the universe, is how the universe of which we are a part is more than just a Rube Goldberg contraption, a machine with styrofoam balls spinning around each other. The universe is, in fact, a symphony of beauty. We earth-based homo sapiens may not be the be-all and end-all of creation that religion once mistakenly taught, but we are part of something vast and beautiful that is far greater, far more inspiring than anything any religion could ever conceive without the contribution of science.

It is, as T.S. Eliot wrote, a kind of "Music heard so deeply that it is not heard at all." And then Eliot adds: "You are the music, while the music lasts." To understand the cosmos of which we are a part as a great, even the ultimate, symphony, is no threat at all to a mature religious sense, the sense that seeks out beauty, truth, and goodness in the music of the spheres. As Albert Einstein once said, "The most important function of art and science is to awaken the cosmic religious feeling and keep it alive."

But I would like to leave the heavens behind for the next few minutes, and come down to earth, somewhat literally.

There is a new consciousness about the earth and about nature, about which we Unitarian Universalists tend to share much enthusiasm. There is a new consciousness of nature among us. It is growing and re-making our image of ourselves and of our planet, earth.

The phrase that is often used to identify this new awareness is "ecological consciousness," that is, a conscious awareness of the limits and interdependence of nature. "Ecology" is in fact a relatively new concern in the popular mind. Ecology, we know, has to do with understanding the harmony within nature -- its diversity, its interdependence, and its limitations.

Patrick Moore, a Canadian ecologist (and one of the founders of the Greenpeace movement) has described what he calls the "three laws of ecology:"

The First Law of Ecology... states that all forms of life are interdependent. The prey is as dependent on the predator for the control of its population as the predator is on the prey for supply of food.

The Second Law of Ecology... states that the stability (unity, security, harmony, togetherness) of ecosystems is dependent on their diversity (complexity). An ecosystem that contains 100 different species is more stable than a system that has only three species.

The Third Law of Ecology... states that all resources (food, water, air, minerals, energy) are finite and there are limits to growth of all living systems. These limits are finally dictated by the finite size of the earth and the finite input of energy from the sun.

Just as we can look at the stars and planets as something more than just a mechanical contraption -- we can see in them an _expression of art, a harmony of motion -- so also we can view this earth as a similar work of art. What has been said about the harmony of the heavens (or "the music of the spheres") also applies here on earth.

That all parts are interdependent is as much a musical and artistic truth as it is a scientific one. The music of the spheres that guides the interdependent galaxies also resounds here. To tamper with the parts, to destroy the pieces of the earth's symphony, to use up the resources that contribute to the beauty of terrestrial music, is to cause discordant notes to the human experience as well as to the earth.

We have a very direct dependence on the earth -- and her resources are quickly being used up. While much could be said about how our lives will be diminished because of the over-use of such resources, this morning I would rather focus on how such overuse disturbs the harmony of the whole and affects the human artistic sense.

When voices arise around us to pay attention to, and respect for, the ecology of nature, the phrase that is sometimes used is that we need to "listen to the earth." Listen to the earth! The implication of that phrase is simply that the earth is telling us something, that it expresses itself to us, and that we need to listen. If ecology means listening to the earth, then I imagine that what is heard, or what we hope to hear, is musical -- harmonious and melodic. A Jewish prayer of thanksgiving to God says it this way:

"You have made us able to hear the music of the world.... A divine voice sings through all creation."

It has become the task of our era to learn to listen to the music of the world, to tune our ears to the earth and hear its cries as well as its celebrations. It is our task to understand nature not just as a mechanical device, but as an artistic _expression.

There is a literal as well as figurative direction to my sermon this morning. We began in the vast outer space of the universe, acknowledging the harmony that is imbedded in its form, noting how much it resembles a complex piece of music. In a second movement, we turned attention to the earth itself, the complexity of the ecosystem, and how it interplays with harmony and discord, and how its balance can be respected as we respect the interplay of sounds in great music.

I now hope to bring us even closer to home, and examine, as if the third movement in this morning's sermon, how this metaphor of music may help in understanding our human lives as well.

It is said that civilization exists only when art exists. Whitehead said it this way:

"Art heightens the sense of humanity. It gives an elation of feeling which is supernatural. A sunset is glorious, but it dwarfs humanity and belongs to the general flow of nature. A million sunsets will not spur us toward civilization. (Rather), it requires Art to evoke into consciousness the finite perfections which lie ready for human achievement. Thus, in its broadest sense, art is civilization. For civilization is nothing other than the unremitting aim at the major perfections of harmony."

In other words, civilization happens whenever we human beings attempt to create (or re-create, express through human medium), the very art and music we experience from nature itself.

I suspect that not all of you have been wholly on board with my metaphor this morning. For some of you, it may have felt like stretching it a bit to think of the stars and planets as moving in harmony as music moves in harmony. For some of you, it may have felt just a little too contrived to consider the earth's ecology as comparable to the flow, balance, and complexity of music. But I hope that most of you can at least join with me on this one simple observation: successful living is more of an art than a technology. Regardless of how many thousands of "self-help" books that are published, there is no reliable or fail-safe "how-to" instruction manual that can guarantee we can become a perfect parent or partner, or a person of profound worth, or that we will live a meaningful life. It is something we must, ourselves, create and compose -- just as an artist creates a work of beauty, or a composer creates a piece of music.

The harmony of the cosmos, or of the earth's natural system, is an inherent quality, a natural trait. The harmony of any given human life does not happen naturally, it must be designed and composed. It is the many life experiences each of us has that provide the resources for composing such a life.

Every experience we have, great or small, joyful or tragic, can be used to enhance the life we compose. When a child is born, the lives around that child -- from parents and siblings to family friends and neighbors -- are affected and rearranged in large or small ways into different form. Those of us who have had responsibility to care for a child know that the greatest lesson is what we come to learn about ourselves-- and those lessons become resources for further composing our lives.

In some ways, the broader and deeper our experiences, the more resources we have to use to make harmony in our lives. Every book we read, every friend we make, every meaningful conversation supplies us with something more to use in the art of living. Each of us can find examples of experiences that, at the time had little importance, but in hindsight the experience became a huge influence on our lives. When I was about twenty, I attended a wedding at a Unitarian church; little did I know when I picked up the literature from the table that I would use that experience to change my life forever.

Every life experience provides lessons and resources through which we can use to shape and craft the direction of our lives. We do compose our own lives as a composer does a piece of music. I said in the first section, concerning the music of the universe, that astronomy at first threatened religion because it threatened the view that we are the most important component of the universe. But astronomy threatened religion only because religion, for far too long, clung on to a misguided idea about how the universe works. In truth, astronomy opened religion up to a much grander view by showing us how beauty and harmony are qualities of everything. What is true for the life of the universe is also true for us.

The Catholic theologian Arturo Paoli saw this as an ethical imperative as well. He wrote:

"To be religious is to give your life so that the world may be more beautiful, more just, more at peace; it is to prevent egotistical and self-serving ends from disrupting this harmony of the whole."

In Love's Labour's Lost, Shakespeare said it this way: "And when Love speaks, the voice of all the gods makes heaven drowsy with the harmony."

Religion, at its best, supplies a life that allows us to see the beauty and harmony that is there if only we look closely enough. Through the ages, the great minds have seen it in the spheres -- the dance of stars and planets. Some are discovering it in the ecological awareness of nature's interdependence. Perhaps we, people of religion, attempt not only to see it, but to create in the art of living.

The musical art of life has been identified by many thoughtful people over the centuries. One of those was William Ellery Channing, who, over 150 years ago, gave rise to the Unitarian movement in this country. In one passage which has become quite popular, Channing also speaks how we create our own life like a work of art, and ends with an acknowledgment of music as a metaphor for life -- he says of good life values that they are a symphony. I'll close with his summery comment of that symphony:

"To live content with small means, to seek elegance rather than luxury, and refinement rather than fashion, to be worthy, not respectable, wealthy, not rich, to study hard, think quietly, talk gently, act frankly, to listen to stars and birds, babes and sages, with open heart, to bear all cheerfully, do all bravely, await occasions, hurry never -- in a word, to let the spiritual, unbidden and unconscious grow up through the common. This is to be my symphony. "