Ryanne Molinari

I am always amazed by how music—even music theory—images certain theological concepts. Enjoy!

1. The Root Provides Identity

In music theory, the “root” is the note by which a scale or chord is named (C is the root of a C major scale, and so on). It is the foundational pitch that gives the scale or chord its identity. This sounds familiar. In John 13:34-35, just before Jesus goes to the cross, he addresses his disciples:

“A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another: just as I have loved you, you also are to love one another. By this all people will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”

Jesus tells his disciples that they will be known for loving one another as he loved them. And how did Jesus love them? He washed their dusty, smelly, calloused feet—even the feet that would soon slink away to betray him. Our identity as Christians is gifted to us by this radical love of our Savior, and we are to live into this identity by loving one another with the same sacrificial intensity. As the old hymn proclaims, “They’ll know we are Christians by our love,” and, like a key signature named for its root, we are Christians because we are claimed and identified by the perfect love of Christ.

In our musical worship, we need to lay aside any identity other than being beloveds of Christ. When I was studying organ in the United Kingdom, I was saddened to see how many church musicians were not professing or practicing Christians. They readily claimed the identity of “chorister,” “cantor,” or “organ scholar” but just as readily admitted that they were not Christians. Meanwhile, I did not intend to continue my organ studies while abroad, but God opened a door I did not expect. Although I loved serving as an organ scholar, I was most blessed to study with another organist who shared my preeminent identity: Christ-follower.

It’s amazing how much less stress I feel as a worship director when I remember my identity as a Christian before my role as a musician. Of course, I would love to learn more masterpieces of organ literature or take more voice lessons or compose more original pieces, but my time and energy are limited. Without the blessed assurance of Christ’s love as my primary occupation and identity, I would run myself ragged.

2. The Root Provides Structure

There’s a reason most contemporary songs use a similar chord progression: I (root) – V – vi – IV – I (root). (As a very poor guitarist, I deeply appreciate this norm!) If we assume our starting chord is the root and want to end our song solidly in the tonic key, the middle parts often work themselves out. If you play the chord progression above without starting or ending on the root, it will sound odd. It won’t be satisfying; a sense of order will be missing. So, too, when we try to live and worship without the love of Christ constantly behind and before us.

When we are rooted in Christ’s love and pursuing its fullness, the rest of our lives may be messy, but we can be sure that there is purpose and order in the midst of the dissonance. Although I am always dashing between jobs (I think I work seven different ones, in addition to my ministry as a pastor’s wife), there is a central theme that structures my seemingly-scattered existence. The love of Christ is my beginning, and to love him and his people is my end. If I trust that Christ holds all things together, I can trust him to structure and resolve the messy harmonies of my day-to-day life and ministry.

It can feel impossible to move from point A to point B in an organized, straightforward fashion, but we can trust that Christ’s love will see us through, ordering the processes of our work and worship even when we can’t discern the overarching chorus through the momentary chaos. The trick to hearing harmonies as a unified progression instead of a random string of chords is keeping the root in your mind, hearing it in your head even when it is not being played. The key to navigating the seeming chaos of our lives, work, and worship is the same: keep the root, the love of Christ, always at the forefront of your mind.

3. The Root Provides the End

The root is not just the first note; it’s the anchor note. It is the point of reference for all other notes, and (at least to our Western ears), a piece of music is not satisfactorily finished until it returns to the root. If you play the chord progression in the previous section, you will hear how the harmonies lean toward the root; there is tension until you reach the final chord. In the same way, love is the beginning and end of our lives as Christians. Every part of our lives should seem to yearn for the love of God, dissonance seeking resolution. Godly love (and, thus, the fruit of the Spirit) will guide every decision we make, giving divine clarity and relief from the burdens we too readily put on ourselves.

Consider this concept musically: One of my music students is working on a prelude by J.S. Bach. She’s a talented musician but, last week, lost her place in the music. However, my student has a firm grasp of this essential tool: when in doubt, find the root. After some dissonant meandering, her harmonic decisions began to make sense, to fall in line—to move toward the root. She quickly remembered that she was in the key of C and began to emphasize notes that would guide her to the dominant chord (G) and, finally, the root. It was not the path Bach wrote, but she ended in the correct place.

If you feel directionless, unsure how you will finish your work today, let alone reach the end of your ministry with any level of success (or sanity), focus on the love of Christ. He does not demand genius or virtuosity—though these can be to his glory. Instead, he asks you to love him and love his people. Why? Because he loved you. Return to his words in John 15 and cling to them as your anchor. To end well—to be present for the eternal chorus of “Holy, Holy, Holy”—we must abide in the love of Christ, filtering every step and decision through this gracious, satisfying anchor.

Bonus: The Root Provides Unity

A single musical note is actually a collection of frequencies (the rates at which the sound vibrates) that our ears interpret as a single pitch. Our ears interpret these combined frequencies as a single pitch, although multiple frequencies are included. This is the case for every note, not just those we use as roots, but it provides an important image. Truly, I can think of no better image for the fruit of the Spirit than this.

What we identify as a single note is the composite of multiple frequencies acting at once; what we call agapé is the composite of the fruit of the Spirit. When we strike a key on the piano, one note sounds but multiple frequencies burst forth. When we open our mouths to sing, the fruit of the Spirit in its fullness pours forth as love.

There are multiple frequencies and fruits to investigate, but the whole often sounds, to our ears, simply and beautifully as love.  As we proceed through this book, I hope you will never stop listening to the fruit in the context of its root: its identity, structure, and end.