theophiliacs

People down near the front of the arena rise to their feet when the lights begin fading quickly to black. Instinctively you stand as well, happy to be up since you’ve been seated for over thirty minutes. Then a hush moves over the crowd. The moment they’ve all been waiting for is now becoming a reality, and your curiosity only builds.

In the absence of light your mind’s eye is left with the reverse image of what little you’ve been able to observe up until this point. Mainly, a crowd of people and a large black curtain across the entire width of the stage. So, not much.

With nothing left to distract you, the possibilities race through your mind. You wonder, is this some sort of seminar, or maybe a concert? Is it a multi-level marketing sales pitch? A fashion show? “Please, don’t let it be a fashion show.” 

The black curtain, it now appears, is actually somewhat translucent, and a single spotlight at center stage comes up slowly. As it grows stronger it sweeps forward to silhouette a lone figure approaching the audience. He stops when the glint of a microphone blinks into existence from the void. A momentary pause brings the tension to the breaking point. 

Anticipating that your wait is almost over, you think back to the details of your assignment. All you knew ahead of time is that you were going to be in a large crowd and that the people around you were not going to speak the same language as you. That’s one variable that had to be established, so you would have to rely strictly on what you observed. Talking to others would be cheating.

Then your train of thought is brought to an abrupt halt. 

Four clicks, barely audible in the large space, are the only signal the audience needs. Hands shoot into the air as the first downbeat resounds thick and heavy. You jump at the sound, and at the sight of the crowd suddenly awash in every spectral hue from a dozen angles. The lights sweep back and forth across the crowd as the remaining stage lights slowly come up, revealing a full band, the source of the pulsing music. The brass cymbals and silver edges of the drums, the highly polished guitars and bass, even the keyboard seems to come alive as they reflect the pulsing lights in every direction, showering the arena with enormous multi-colored sparks of color.

You, for one, are relieved. There was an outside chance this was going to be a self-help seminar. And the fact that the music is actually pretty good is a welcome development, even though it’s nothing you’re familiar with.

Now the lights all begin to sweep up front, drawing everyones eyes toward center stage once again. The curtain falls dramatically as the leader steps forward with a commanding stride, then lets his guitar fall to the side and takes the mic out of the stand in one smooth motion. With one hand in the air he brings the music down and all the lights fade until only the bright white spots behind him remain.

Then he begins to sing and the strobe lights kick in, pulsing with the backbeat and framing snapshots of the singer and musicians as they work through the first verse. By the time the music begins to build toward the chorus the entire place is jumping with the beat. The red lights come up first, followed by blue and violet, and you notice that even now there are people being moved to tears. 

You feel something deep inside of you and decide that even though you have no idea who the band is, you may as well go with the flow. Your hands go up, you bob your head to the beat, and a smile stretches across your face.

Everything feels good. Better than good. Great. No, fantastic. 

Song after song goes by in a similar fashion, with lighting and smoke effects timed perfectly to accent the rise and fall of the bands dynamics. It would have been nearly impossible not to be taken in by the music and the experience of it all, and you have to admit that you’ve been moved. 

By the end of the set, the people around you are visibly exhausted, but in spite of this their faces beam with ecstasy as they seem to recount memorable moments from the concert. You don’t know what they’re saying, but you can guess.

They’ve all had a collective experience that you know could not be replaced by any sound or video recording. It was real and it was exciting.

The question is: What, exactly, did you just experience?

Obviously this was a concert, but what kind of concert? Without knowing what they were singing, do you have any way of knowing whether this was any old rock band, or a worship service? And would that, or should that, have an impact on how you interpret the emotions you have been lead through during the course of the evening?

* * *

This is where I feel stuck. Personally, most of the ‘religious’ experiences I’ve had have been a part of a concert experience. Whether at a church or at a concert venue, in a backyard strumming acoustic guitars with friends or on a stage with a full band and lighting; these are the times I’ve felt closest to God.

Some people say they can feel God’s presence as they walk through the woods, as if he is present in nature for them. This doesn’t work for me. Other people tell me that God’s presence surrounds them as they study the Bible, or when they are with their family and loved ones, or when they are serving the homeless and needy at a local shelter. Still others feel God’s presence by simply walking into their home church. 

As for me, I have to say these feelings have always been tied to music. Whether I’m playing in the band or swaying with the crowd, a good concert really moves me, and that feeling just doesn’t happen at any other time.

But one day it struck me; I’ve felt the same way as I walked out of a rock show as I have as I walked out of a night of worship, like they hosted back at North Central on Wednesday nights. I’ve had the same enthralling, ecstatic emotions that stayed with me as I drove home. And the thing that troubles me is I would be hard pressed to describe the difference between the religious and the secular concert, between the sacred and the profane, as it were.

I guess I’m just left wondering what this means. It’s like I could stop going to church altogether and still “feel” just as close to God so long as I see a good rock show every once in a while. Does that cheapen the ‘religious’ experience, or heighten the ‘secular’ one? Or is there any difference in the first place? Does this have anything to do with God at all, or is it just emotional manipulation though a collective musical experience no matter what kind of music it is?

What do you think?

{P.S. I feel like it’s worth pointing out that I have felt the same sensation during a well done orchestral concert or piano-lead hymn session. I just want to be clear that this is not a ‘beat’ driven thing for me.}