Sunday Singing

It frequently happens that when I visit a congregation that is not my own on a Sunday morning; I get complimented (or commented) on my singing. Sometimes it comes in the form of the child in front of me who covers the ears and looking in my direction wears a scandalized grimace. So if I happen to show up at your church on Sunday; no, I don’t want to join your choir; yes, I sang in choir at a Concordia.
The reason for my volume and verve is simple: I’ve been conditioned.
I grew up in a congregation where, conflicted though they were, they sang. It was a hotbed of Garrison Keillor material (both good and bad). The organ was pipe—it was an old movie-theater organ—and it was sometimes hard to hear because of the strong singing around me. I merely matched volume and have not come down since.
I realize that not everyone has been, um, trained as I was. No, not voice lessons (although I did have a few years of such); a home congregation that sang.
Since leaving for college I have visited a plethora of churches around the country. Some sing, some don’t. The church we were at north of Spamtown did not sing. You think it is hard finding your place coming back from communion? Think of the poor organist who loses count and can hear only a faint mumble coming from below. Fortunately, I was tipped off—listen for the strongest sound in the English language: /s/. Works every time.
The place we’re at now? They also don’t sing. Of course, this is the place where, back in the late ‘90s we visited and the person in the pew ahead of us was apparently disgusted with the Hymnal Supplement ’98 and brusquely flung it down on the pew.
I don’t know if it is because people just don’t communally sing as they used to. We still get weird looks at the Muny when we sing along with the orchestra when they play "The Star Spangled Banner" before every show. Maybe it is something else. I don’t know.
The point is not to rail on anyone or build myself up. What I’m trying to say is that it is not the style but the delivery which is part of the problem with Sunday morning music. Doing a remix of a modern pop song with Christian lyrics is not a solution. Okay, so it worked for Whoopie in Sister Act, but that’s Hollywood. One thing to do is educate—why do we sing Psalms, hymns, and liturgy? What makes a hymn a “good” hymn? Some of this stuff I didn’t learn until I was past 18. Why didn’t someone tell me sooner?
Another thing to do is do what you do well. Don’t sing like Jesus stayed dead. Encourage your organists/pianists/accompanists to continue learning how to play the hymns well. So what if you’ve heard the same song as a postlude for three months, as long as the hymns are played well? Better yet, encourage your organists/pianists/accompanists. They have a job that’s pretty difficult, especially when many churches have musicians who are volunteers or not trained as church musicians, per se. They need to be thanked.
Encourage a youth to take up organ or piano and to train as a church musician. Send your youth to a Higher Things conference or worship conference to learn more. Send your church organist and interested congregation members to a worship conference, a church music conference, a workshop—there are tons of resources out there.
As for me, I plan to keep learning, singing, and making use of teachable moments whenever I can. And you’ll know when I show up at your church—I’ll be the one singing loudly—I hope your congregation drowns me out. . .

Spelling Tests and Tangents

Word #4 was "media". The sentence I made up was "People say that the media is biased."

"What's biased?" a student asked.

"That means they only talk about one side," I replied, trying to think up a quick definition so that we could back to the spelling test.

"Are they?" another student asked.
Unfortunately I had difficulty passing this one by. "Yes," I said. I told them how on the 30th anniversary of Roe v Wade, the local TV station in the only state that Reagan did not carry in '84 gave pro-lifers 30 seconds of coverage, but gave pro-choicers at least 4 times that much. At this point, one student asked, "What's abortion?" [Hey, they are only 7th & 8th graders--don't be too harsh on them. . . at least THEY know that England is not in France, but I digress. . .]

"That's killing babies before they are born," I responded.

I am not sure where the conversation went from there. One person asked if Lutherans were pro-life or pro-choice. Another asked if you have to believe everything the church teaches. Soon questions were flying, and I answered as best and honestly as I could. We touched on abortion, repentance, forgiveness, faith--I think that's about it. One person asked if we could continue the spelling test. Another person said that because they didn't have religion class that day (long story) it was okay. Twenty minutes later we resumed the spelling test, although a couple students were trying to figure out how to get me off topic again. Nice try, ladies, I pick when I go off-topic.

I enjoy being at a Lutheran school where I can have a candid conversation like this with my students. It is nice to be able to have a class where one can have such a conversation. It was good to go off-topic here. It is sad to see how engrained post-modern culture is in my students. I can't remember the specific statements or questions my students asked, but it what stuck in my mind is that their weltanschauung [world outlook] is truly colored by the weltanschauung society wants them to have. They choose what seems right for them. Don't get me wrong, they're good kids, but we have to dare them to be Lutheran now and not be clouded by the false inconsistencies post-modernism has to offer.

Worship Skirmishes

It's not eavesdropping if they are talking in your office, full voice, two feet from your desk, is it? Today it was a conversation about our church's "blended" worship service. One party of the conversation, our church music director, is still convinced that it is a "contemporary" service, though our bulletin says otherwise. Okay, whatever, I'm not going to quibble about nomenclature there. Coming up is our single service Sunday where we have one church service instead of two and the style flip-flops between "traditional" and "blended". Apparently part of the flap was that the pastor told the music director to pick songs the people know which led to this soundbite about "quasi contemporary songs so as not to offend." It was at this point I feigned busyness. The music director then asserted that "you can't have it both ways," to which I whole-heartedly agree. The second party of the conversation also agreed and stated that they personally did not like the "contemporary" style, but said that as long as it is sound, the church should give the people what they want.
Uh huh. . . Then people wonder what's wrong with this picture in the church today.
Problem one: If you're going to do it, do it wholeheartedly, not half-baked. Just call yourself whatever that is. I'm here to say it ain't Lutheran.
Problem two: Even quasi-contemporary songs offend when they are not Christ-centered and have a theology of glory. Not to mention they're poorly written. I can say this from a musical standpoint. They have difficult, syncopated rhythms (most people had difficulty with a straight rhythm, let alone syncopated), they follow the same formula--verse, refrain, verse, refrain, repeat refrain, bridge, key change, refrain again--you get the idea, and they could be sung about a generic god, Jesus, Allah, yourself, your boy/girlfriend. They sound fun and say nothing.
Problem three: It's not about you, it's about Jesus for you. (Yes, I stole that from Issues, Etc.) It's not about what you want in worship but what gifts God gives in worship. We say back to God what He says to us. You can't boost your self-esteem to channel positive feelings and confess you are a "poor, miserable sinner" at the same time. You can't look for health, wealth and prosperity concurrently with taking up your cross. The theology of glory cannot coexist with the theology of the cross.
No, I will agree with them on that point--you can't have it both ways.

The Incarnation

If Isaiah feared being in the presence of the Lord Most High, if Moses could not walk with shoes on ground that was holy; then how amazing is the incarnation! The Word, the very Son of God, in the womb of Mary. How astounding is it to ponder that Mary, a peasant girl betrothed to a simple carpenter, can carry in her body Him in Whose presence mortal men cannot stand. Such is the incomprehensible love of the Father.

False Freedom and True Liberation

There are two types of liberation. One is a false liberation, one is true freedom. One restrains, one releases. Certain movements which promise freedom often have this false freedom. It is not a freedom from what truly constrains; but freedom from imagined constraint, which becomes more restraining than that from which one was seeking freedom. Take, for example, a person wishing freedom from a spouse who seeks liberation in divorce. They find only constraint, much heavier restraint, in terms of alimony, child support, starting over, and the baggage of a "previous marriage." Such is false liberation.
Those seeking freedom from the earthly existence we bear called humanness must have true freedom in Christ. Any other type is the false liberty. Substances carry the burden of dependency, legalism carries the burden of inadequacy, every other type of seeking after the wind carries with it the false hope of freedom which becomes a weight heavier than those described as his own by Jacob Marley in Charles Dickens' A Christmas Carol.
Only true freedom comes from Christ. In our human state we are shackled--bound in sin. Christ's redeeming work on the cross has released us from our bondage and reconciled us to God. This is the only true liberation. He has done it all for us; our chains have been removed.
His forgiveness breaks down the prison walls, releases those enslaved, and seals our adoption as sons of the Father, brother of our Savior.

Location, Location, Location

Why do we look for God in all the wrong places? Too often we look for God inside ourselves. We look for God in our emotions and our own actions.
Sometimes we look for God in a place where it would seem logical--we look for God in church, but we often end up looking in the wrong churches; churches that do not point to God, but point to emotions and self.
So where do we find God? That's the wrong question. Where does God say He will be found? That's a better question. For with the first question it is a matter of what we do, but that's not how God works. He is always the initiator. The second question points to what God does. He is the seeker of us; He is the one who does the reconciling; He is the one who does the promising. God says He is present in Word and Sacrament. That is where He will be found.

Family Friendly

Hm, It's a toss up as to where to put this--here or Opus the First--but I'm going to put it here.

Apparently network TV likes sex, but not marriage, according to a news article. In addition to extra marital sex, network TV also likes to cross the line (I'm thinking Swingtown here).

If I watch the networks; I watch CSI (or one of the CSI family), Numb3rs, or the Unit (where did that show go anyway?). The focus of these shows are such that sex is not often brought in; however, I have noticed that some of the characters are engaged in sex, but not married or married to the person with which so engaged. In the CSI series, there are references to perversion when a crime is investigated. It seems as though some of it could be left out.

I understand the argument of the Parents Television Council. The influence of TV on children is a problem, and seeing such things or hearing them discussed can have a negative effect. I can also understand the argument of TV Watch. Legislating morality is exceedingly difficult. I'm not saying there shouldn't be laws; but having the government draw the line on how much is too much is quite tricky, especially since some of our legislators have personal troubles with morality (it all depends on how you define the word "is").

As Christians, where do we/should we stand? There's a fine line in these matters. If we legislate against TV sex, what can we do when our opponents legislate against Christian broadcasting? We should be speaking up for the right thing, however, It seems as though we need to have a grass-roots approach. I believe that education is more effective than legislation, for laws are made to be broken (so they say), but education is training people in the way they should go.

The Parable of the McDonalds

Disclaimer--I use the name McDonalds, but this is no way intended to represent any specific McDonalds. Outside of that, you may infer the meaning of the parable.

Once there was a restaurant chain called McDonalds. I enjoyed this chain very much, and liked their food fairly well, especially the filet-o-fish and the french fries. When traveling, I could always count on McDonalds to have the usual—filet-o-fish, Big Mac, Ronald, Grimace, and the gang. I knew exactly what I would get. Sure, there’d be times when the local chain was the test market for the company. For the longest time I could not get a breakfast burrito outside a certain radius of home; however, I knew that the egg mcmuffin was an adequate fall back.
Then something odd began to happen. I was on a plane, speaking with a fellow passenger about McDonalds. “Oh, I believe in food, but I never go to McDonalds,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Too many hypocrites there.”
“I don’t understand,” I said.
“Easy,” he replied, “Too many people are not sincere when they eat a Big Mac. They don’t want two-all-beef-patties-special-sauce-lettuce-cheese-pickles-onions-on-a-sesame-seed-bun. They want something else. Foolishness.”
On the ground at the airport, I began looking for a place to eat. The sign said, “McDonalds, concourse C,” so I headed over to concourse C. At the food court, I looked for the tell-tale yellow double arches indicating the McDonalds. Vainly I looked. Finally I gave up and settled on a non-descript wrap place. Taking my tofu and lettuce in tomato basil wrap to a table, I see a man nearby munching what look suspiciously like McDonalds’ chicken nuggets. “Pardon me,” I interrupted his meal, “where did you get those?”
He pointed toward a counter off in the corner. “McDonalds. Over there. It’s where I work, and I’m on break now. Is that okay?”
“Sure that’s okay, but I looked all over for the golden arches, and I just couldn’t find the McDonalds.”
“Oh,” he said firmly, “We don’t put up our name or the Golden Arches. There are too many people offended by that and so we don’t say who we are.”
“I see,” I said, not really understanding the concept of that, so I quietly took a bite of my wrap, which was as nauseating as it sounded. “So you don’t want people to know you’re McDonalds, but you still want them to eat there.”
He nodded, clearly not interested in carrying on the conversation.
At the end of this same trip, heading back to the airport, I decided I was in the mood for a Big Mac, so I chose to stop at a local McDonalds, having learned my lesson about the one on Concourse C. I spotted the familiar red sign with the yellow arches and pulled in the parking lot. Walking into the restaurant, I didn’t bother looking at the menu board because I knew I wanted a Big Mac, medium fries and a Coke. I walked up to the counter and gave my order.
“I’m sorry,” the teen taking my order apologized, “we don’t serve Big Macs here.” I looked up at the menu board. I couldn’t believe my eyes. Where was the Big Mac, the filet-o-fish, the Happy Meal? The Big Mac was called a Whopper, the filet-o-fish was called a Premium Fish fillet, the chicken nuggets were listed as popcorn chicken, and there was something under sides listed as frings. I did see down at the bottom, in a rather small font, something listed as a quarter pounder with cheese.
“What’s going on here?” I asked the teen worker.
“What do you mean?”

“Isn’t this McDonalds?” I asked, pointing to the sign. “Why do you have food from all these other restaurants?”
“Don’t all McDonalds?” was all the employee could say.
The manager came up to the counter during this exchange. “Can I help you?”
“Yeah,” I said, “What’s with all the food from other restaurants? This is McDonalds.”
“Well,” the manager explained, “This is the Progressive McDonalds. We feel here that McDonalds food is always the same. The people are looking for more than the same old historic McDonalds food. We want to give the people what they want.”
“Um, then why are you calling yourself McDonalds, if you don’t do what the rest of what McDonalds do?”
“Oh, that’s complicated, but we feel that we can reach more people by offering a variety of foods. We don’t want to feel constrained by tradition.”
“You know what?” I said, finding the whole thing ridiculous, “I think I’ll find another McDonalds.”
“There is another McDonalds about two miles down,” the manager said. “I think they have a more traditional menu. You might want to try there.”
“Thank you,” I said, still befuddled.
I did find the traditional McDonalds that day, but I cannot say I have had consistency with McDonalds ever since. I have found many like the Concourse C franchise, and many more like the progressive McDonalds. I am glad my local McDonalds is still a traditional one, and I know of at least one place I can guarantee to find a Big Mac as it should be.

Texas Youth

I was going to post something else here, but I'll get to it later, I guess. I saw this post which bothered me. What are they thinking? I suspect this is what they're thinking: "Let's push the envelope and wait for people so say something so that we can tell them how ignorant and unloving they are; and if they say nothing than take their silence to mean that everyone's okay with it, and keep in the same direction."

It's the whole emperor's new clothes concept. Everyone is loathe to say anything lest the be deemed stupid. We need a few more perceptive children to call the thing what it is, which in this case is plain WRONG.

I saw a bumper sticker the other day which said, "Somewhere in Texas a village is missing its idiot." Maybe there's something about Texas we don't know. . .

Vocation

I attended a presentation recently on art and architecture in the church. The presenter asserted (quite forcefully, if I may add the editorial comment) that there should be no differentiation between nave and chancel, not even a step or communion rail. He also asserted that there should be only one place from which the Word should be read and proclaimed—the pulpit, no lecturn—for expounding upon scripture is not above the reading of scripture itself. He then continued by saying that it was acceptable for the lector to read the scripture from the pulpit, for to not allow a layperson in the pulpit would indicate a class distinction between lay and clergy (the main reason for having no differentiation between nave and chancel in the first place). This got me thinking about the priesthood of all believers and vocation, and how it can still be taken wrongly today.
In the Middle Ages, the church taught that being a member of the clergy or a monk or nun were the highest calling a Christian could become. Martin Luther argued that all Christians have a vocation—a God-given “calling” –to be whatever they were: butcher, baker, candlestick maker, mom, child, student, etc. With this line of reasoning came the concept that we are all priests.
Today there is the misunderstanding that because we all have a vocation and none is higher than another; that means that a pastor is equal to his parishioners. A layperson is no more, no less than a pastor, even in the chancel or pulpit. I am inclined to disagree.
The teacher in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory said, “For a student to teach his teacher is presumptuous and rude.” The commercials which say, “Ask your doctor about [this medicine],” rub me the wrong way. In our vocations we live our vocations and do not presume to do someone else’s vocation. I do not like it when non-teachers tell me what to teach and how to teach it. I am not a doctor, so I am not going to presume to tell my doctor that I need a particular medication just because it is advertised on television. I am not a pastor (obviously) so I will not presume to do my pastor’s job, namely Word and Sacrament ministry. After all, I’m not the one with the M.Div. In this case, there is a distinction between vocations. The distinction is to what one is called. There comes a point where our pastors need to step up to minister, and the people need to step back and allow themselves to be ministered. This is order; for if there is no order, there is chaos, and chaos unchecked can lead to anarchy.

Elusive Faith

I stumbled across this posting while looking up something for my other blog. I was too curious not to read why this man is no longer a Christian. In four parts he lays it all out: He was raised by religious parents, baptized, and felt he was living a lie. He couldn’t feel the power of God working in him. He knew he was a sinner. He stated so much. He had heard of God’s grace, but never “felt” it. Eventually the man came to a crisis in a prayer service. The pastor asked them “all to recall our thoughts and feelings on the day we were saved.” He inwardly admitted his struggles, and thought he could fake it, but then realized he didn’t want to lie. So he left and didn’t look back.

In the page which profiles him is this comment by him:

“I’ve run into this line of thinking before: God is elusive, distant and mysterious while Satan is potent and actively at work, everywhere. Well, it seems to me that I have never encountered either God or Satan. I find it far easier to believe that there’s no one here between my ears but me. I think I realized very early on, without putting it into words, that Christianity on a superficial level sounds like pure nonsense: God impregnated a virgin, had a son, then had his son brutally killed, essentially sacrificing himself to himself -- all for my benefit. What an absurd story. The only thing that could make it real, I decided, would be a personal, emotional experience, an encounter with the divine. I devoted ten years to trying for this. What I found was nothing. So I’ve concluded that religion is all manmade dogma, and pure twaddle to boot. And leading my life this way has worked perfectly well for me, for all the years since.”

I remember Dr. Kleinig once talking about the mysteries of faith. I don’t quite remember where he took it (it’s in my notes somewhere) but I remember his telling of a young man who fell away because they tried to explain all the mysteries. When, as this man experienced, faith is boiled down to something you must do or feel, no mystery is left. The incarnation becomes another “absurd story”. If one can’t feel the power of the Holy Spirit, all they feel is self. Yet feelings are as changeable as a roller coaster—up one minute, down the next, and the stomach in the throat the whole time. Often times faith is not felt, only known. It’s like those days when you love your family in thought only, as they’re driving you so batty that you don’t feel as though you love them.

Someone should have properly divided Law and Gospel for this man. If they had, he may not have reached the conclusion that “religion is all manmade dogma.” Nobody told him that we are sinners and saints at the same time. Nobody told him that we can’t recall the thoughts and feelings we had on the day we were saved because that day happened before we were born. It was accomplished on the cross, and I know I wasn’t born on that day. I know it was the day I was saved, though.

Maybe as a genetic Lutheran I take solid doctrine for granted, forgetting that there are those out there who are Christian but don’t understand what that is or means. Or maybe it’s as Mrs. Mills said that I understand theology because I understand the leap of faith that it takes to move from philosophy to theology. It really isn’t a leap of faith, though. It is Christ and Him crucified and He carries us over—we don’t leap—for one is the theology of the cross, and the other is the theology of glory. It is the former in which our faith is grounded.