Reflection

A note of encouragement

Major Alistair Dawson encourages us to play our part, even if it is less than perfect

IN March I had the pleasure of attending a Blackburn Band rehearsal as they prepared for their 140th anniversary. I sat with the bass drummer, a lovely 84-year-old man with years of experience. The bandmaster, an expert in the art of managing expectations, stopped the band and told the drummer he was missing a part.

‘No, I’m not,’ the drummer said, as he studied his music. ‘I’m supposed to be resting there.’ He then took a second look and said with a giggle: ‘I’m playing the wrong piece!’

It reminded me of the Morecambe and Wise sketch in which Eric grabs his annoying conductor, ‘Andrew Preview’ (André Previn), by the jacket lapels, pulls him close and says: ‘I’m playing all the right notes, but not necessarily in the right order!’

One thing I never do is make a mistake, for I always do things differently – such is the way of the clown that is me. The apostle Paul admitted something we all know so well when he said, ‘The good that I would I do not: but the evil which I would not, that I do’ (Romans 7:19 King James Version).

We can enjoy the giggle that comes with my 84-year-old friend’s newly discovered understanding. But what about the rest of us? It really is easy to play all the right notes in the wrong order. And, of course, we always seek to play our part with the best of intentions.

There was a time when I was a proud member of Norwich Castle Songsters, under the leadership of Charles Goodman. He took me aside one day and said: ‘Major, I would like you to sing a part.’ I always sang the melody line with the women, simply to support them, but that did not please Charles. So I said: ‘Would you rather I sang tenor or bass?’ ‘Neither,’ he snapped. ‘I meant, apart from the brigade!’

A Daniel O’Donnell song says: ‘I’ve tried to be good, for I know that I should./ That’s my prayer for the end of the day.’ But sometimes the good that we would is simply not good enough, and we are set apart to face our own inadequacy.

In the band rehearsal they turned to a piece I knew well, ‘Treasures from Tchaikovsky’. It has a bass part that is extremely effective to the piece’s mood – the bass comes down the scale note by note, and that is repeated several times. I used to play it with Hereford Band. The band was good, but we had a bass player who had his own interpretation of how the notes should be played – part of the ‘blast and blow school of divinity’ – and he certainly did it justice.

That man worked with me at Pritchard’s scrap metal merchants. He had an absolute torment of a life but, as a Christian in that workplace among its many uncouth workers, he was a saint in shining armour and was respected and loved.

There are a lot of people in our Army today who cannot reach the perfection expected of them. The music they have may be for the wrong piece, but we all have a part to play, whether in or out of the section we may love.

When I look back over the many enjoyable years of my Salvation Army life, the people who remain in my memory are not the perfectionists or the brilliant performers, but the casual souls who simply come to the Army. They are my Army of saints, people who have a love for God that is true and simple.

I meet them every Sunday at the corps where I soldier. They truly are the saints of St Austell – and I wouldn’t change them for the world!

MAJOR ALISTAIR DAWSON MAJ

Retired St Austell