Harmony and Countermelody

In addition to the experiences described in a previous essay, there are two other influences that have shaped my attitude of the world. When I recently recognized them, I was quite surprised, for they seem at first to be minor and irrelevant. They are: harmony and countermelody.

When I was in high school, I was a member of and sang in a fundamentalist church. This church refused to use instrumental music, or special performers, including choirs, because the Bible had not authorized them. This meant that the congregation had to do all the music itself. There were song-leaders (although this is not authorized by a literal interpretation of scripture either), one of whom was I. But it was up to the congregation to provide the harmonies and the countermelodies. The members who were not musically skilled droned along or, at most, parroted the melody. But even in our small congregation there was enough musical talent that there was usually someone to sing alto and bass (I was the only tenor). I learned that filling in the harmony was enjoyable, and was almost as important as carrying the main melody. Furthermore, many of the songs had countermelodies, even solos, for the altos or the basses. The “womenfolk” were particularly enthusiastic about singing the alto solos, since they were forbidden to lend their voices to any other function within the church. Countermelodies were also as enjoyable and almost as important as the main melody. I learned that the main melody sometimes had to just step aside and let the other voices carry the banner.

I also played in the school band. I played baritone horn, which often provided the fundamental notes and sometimes countermelodies. The baritone horn is not one of the heroic instruments of the band. What I learned and loved was the support roles, though I must admit I loved the occasional solos as well.

These seemingly insignificant activities prepared my mind to understand altruism. In order for altruism to function, the leaders have to sometimes step aside and let the other voices carry the banner. This is not merely a way for the leaders to let the followers vent their steam. It actually enriches the experience. Anyone who has sung in a choir knows that the best music has harmony and countermelodies that are obvious to the listener. And in our church, we were the choir. As a result, it is now second nature to me to think in terms of other people offering harmony and countermelody even in situations in which I am in charge. Perhaps as a result of these experiences, altruism resonates with my soul.

Despite the extreme fundamentalism of the church from which I emerged, I believe it was far superior to the megachurches led by televangelists. In these large made-for-TV churches, the evangelist is the center of attention—no matter how much he or she may claim that God is the focus. The attendees may clap their hands but the show is on the stage. The cameras focus on the stage, with an occasional shot out into the audience to show a woman crying passively in response to the power of the message delivered by the God-anointed evangelist. (In addition, since these TV-churches are non-denominational, they pretty much do and believe whatever the evangelist says.) Dare I say that the little church of which I was a member was more democratic than any of the big churches today?