The Composer’s Invitation – Daniel Keith Amerine

Long, long ago before the voice of a bird had ever been heard or ever a wave of the sea filed its report across the sandy ribbons we now know as beaches, there existed a being of such immensity that these sounds would be minuscule in comparison, to say the least. He dwelt in silence. There was nothing to do in this place except just be. There was nowhere to go except “here.” No sound, no noise, not even a word for time. He gazed about restlessly. It felt lonely to be transcendent above all and not have anyone to share it with. Then a plan began to form in His mind.

The scoring would take eons but He would never have to erase anything. No editing would be necessary because He was in control. Everything had its own place and its own part in this eternal composition. Even time did not have a voice until He ordained it. There were many ideas to be entertained, but some basics needed to be taken care of first. Who could possibly enjoy this masterpiece with him? They could never see it from His own viewpoint—due to the simple fact that He would not allow anyone else to take the credit for His work—but something similar though. A viewpoint something like His own, yet having an appreciation for where they are. How would they arrive at this viewpoint? All would be invited, but they would have to somehow realize His benign invitation and not get sidetracked by the details of His creation. Everything would have to advertise His efforts in the matter.

He thought of the effect that Light and Darkness would have on the situation and decided that both were needed to give them a choice in the matter. This was, after all, an invitation.

So, at the mere sound of His voice, everything came to be. Planets and constellations spun into place with perfect synchronicity as if discovering their role in the Master’s celestial orchestra. In three days, He created their place. In three more, He filled those places. He waited until last to crown His creation with the ones for whom it had been made. His voice thundered throughout the whole piece with lyrics of the Love He had for them. Their ears were filled with His song and He said “It is good.”

This was a priceless piece. For this was the only time it would ever be performed. The individuals that played in it would never need to play again. For they were part of the original sound that the Composer had been looking for. Each one, though they would be similar in viewpoint, had a unique part to play. There were so many resources to draw from in molding their own parts. The Composer made whole libraries of musical ideas available. The individuals were all designed to be able to use these to write their own melodies to the glory of the Composer. At times the piece would seem to write itself and yet still conform to the Transcendent One’s plan…as long as they adhered to the rules He had made.

Then it happened. They say it all goes back to that first duet. They were intended to star in the opening number but they messed it up forever. The directions seemed clear enough: “Enjoy my masterpiece and help me complete it, but do not rely on yourselves or anything other than me, for I am your source.” This was not to be a work of independence. A messenger of Darkness came to the woman, disguising himself as a sweet enticing melody of hope. He fooled her into thinking that it was really in them to be like the Composer; that He had nothing on them. The Dark one made the Composer’s rules out to be dour expressions of vanity. She went to her companion and he chose the repertoire not endorsed by the Composer—that very one which He had specifically forbidden.

The moment they realized what they had done it was too late. Darkness had already taken its pre-designed course. They could not see to tune their instruments. Neither could they remember the tune they had just been playing. They even forgot the One whom they were designed to play for, and began trying to impress each other. It didn’t take long for frustration to set in, but their misery was instant, for their actions had brought upon them that which the Composer had decided would happen if they were to fall. Soon their number grew and they attempted other “masterpieces,” but these were never totally the same. Nothing seemed to come near to the masterpiece of which they had been a part. This nagged at them.

Some tried to forget the music all together while others attempted to perfect their skills to a point where they might possibly capture the idea of the original.

How could they have done this? It was as if they had spit upon the invitation. The Composer’s kind heart was broken.

But all this had not taken Him by surprise . . . Then He rejoiced!

or now He could give them a choice. Soon a time was coming when He would write His Song in their hearts. This would be the Song of their response to His invitation. Then the masterpiece of a race of beings able to choose relationship with Him would be complete.

He knew the whole score. That is why He was the Composer.