Let's Go to a Show

We have season tickets to the Muny in Forest Park again this summer. It's a pretty good lineup this summer. As an aside, one Muny employee told me that because of the economy they wanted to have shows that were popular to be more of a draw.

Last week we got to see Godspell. I had never seen the show before, but was aware that it is based on one of the Gospels. It is based on the Gospel of Matthew, yet includes the story of the Prodigal Son, which is found only in Luke. I found the first paragraph in the program's write-up about the show very interesting:

John-Michael Teblak conceived of Godspell as a master's degree these at Carnegie Mellon University in 1970. His inspiration for the show came from a disheartening church experience on Easter Sunday of that year. Struck by the lack of joy in the service and the hostility of his fellow churchgoers, he sought to create a show that wold capture the love and happiness of the Gospel according to St. Matthew.

Wow, what does it say for a church when a person is so disappointed in Easter worship that he feels compelled to write a musical to make up for it? Especially one where Jesus and the 8 characters are supposed to be "clowns" and spend the show building a community.

The show was well-acted, and the cast sang very well. The production was well-done. The show was disjointed at best. If community building was the point, I missed that. It was more like a drawn-out VBS skit trying to teach Matthew-John at one sitting. The parables and stories were presented, but without context or theology to tie them together, one was left on his/her own to get out of it whatever one wanted. The Good Samaritan scene did have a bit of a moral to it, of course: "Be nice to people;" which, if you ask pretty much any Higher Things pastor, is not the main thrust of that parable. The Prodigal Son came closer to the main idea. The son who turns away is not the son we think. The "crucifixion" scene fell flat. Jesus was lashed to the sides of the gazebo, so at least there was a cruciform aspect, but the line, "O God, I'm bleeding," was a statement of the obvious, and the follow-up line, "O God, I'm dying," seemed to be there only to let the audience know that that what was supposed to be happening. The resurrection was glossed over--did he rise, or was he just back for the finale and curtain call--it was hard to tell.

All in all, I'm not surprised that there was no corporate sponsor for this show (although someone missed an opportunity there). I also don't plan to rush right out and see it again. At least this week's show is something nice, funny, and takes no theological translation: The Music Man. Harold Hill comes to the Muny. . .

The Art of Debate

I enjoy art fairs. I prefer art fairs which have more artistic artists as opposed to art fairs which fall more under the category of craft fairs. I enjoy looking at the the amazing ability and creativity of the painters, photographers, and others; and sometimes I see some pieces wonder "Why would anybody want to buy that?" I really like looking at the jewelry, but almost all of it is out of my price range. . .

I was recently at one of the biggest art fairs in the country, which is actually multiple fairs held simultaneously. We spent the better part of two days looking at the different booths, and saw some amazing artwork. At one booth I found some reasonably priced jewelry and was planning on making a purchase. The vendor had other ideas.

My husband was with me and wearing a shirt which read "Dare to be Lutheran". Apparently upon reading this, the vendor wished to engage in a religious debate. As I perused the gems and inquired of prices, the vendor began this conversation:

"Do you think I could dare to be Lutheran?"

"You could," my husband responded. Meanwhile, his parents had fled the conversation

"What if I dared to be Buddhist?"

"That might be a problem," my husband said, as I wondered what the vendor was driving at.

"What if I dared to be Baptist?"

"That might be okay."

"What if I dared to be Catholic?"

"That might be okay."

I attempted to deflect the conversation by asking about the merchandise. He brushed me off with some non-committal answers and then finally cut to the chase.

He informed us that he was Buddhist and that they were taught things without "all the dogma." He said that as a Buddhist one could believe whatever one wished. At this point it seemed that he was attempting to drag us into a conversation ridiculing us for believing in doctrine, theology, and closed-minded ideas. He then commented, "We teach critical thinking. You ever hear of that?"

At this point, I bit my tongue, put down the necklace at which I was looking and said, "I'll think about it, thank you," as we walked away.

Now, one might say that we did not "Dare to be Lutheran" or make a proper Christian witness. One might say we should have engaged in debate with this man. Maybe. Maybe not. In this case, it seemed he wished to cut us down to size. He was likely not interested in hearing what it meant to be Lutheran. The statements on my bitten tongue regarding critical thinking being a hallmark of Christianity would probably have fallen on closed ears.

If I were brilliantly witty, I may have been able to win him over with a convincing discourse; however, as I tell my students, there is a difference between arguing and debate. Debate is two opposing sides working to present their respective positions. Arguing is two opposing sides talking past each other. One is mental, one is emotional. Love and Logic talks about frontal lobe (the reasoning lobe) thinking vs. brain stem (fight or flight) thinking. It seems to me that to continue the conversation would have been two brain stems trying to reason together--not profitable. Speaking of not profitable, I hope the vendor did not engage all those who came to his booth in the same manner, else he would have lost more sales than just mine.

Preaching to the Choir

I am not sure with what intent I wrote the following, but since I have no other outlet for it, here it is. . .

There is an old saying which talks of “preaching to the choir.” The point of course being that the preacher is speaking to those who agree with him. Historically, the choir was composed of priests or monks who were as well-versed in theology as the preacher, and therefore was on par with the preacher.

The choir’s function in the worship service has gone through many changes during the centuries. Even in the past two generations, its role has changed in the Lutheran Church. Not all that long ago, the choir’s function during worship was to sing a piece called a voluntary (often between the readings) during worship. Many churches still have their choir function in this manner.

Today the role of the choir has changed to be a leadership role. The choir teaches the congregation new hymns, leads them in parts of the liturgy—the Psalm, introit, canticles, or other sung parts of the liturgy, as well as providing special music during the offering or communion distribution to reinforce the themes of the Sunday.

Whether the choir which sings voluntaries or the choir leads congregational singing, the choir has a duty to present the theology of the church in their music. Regardless of the type of music sung—and there is much choral music out there today—the choir director, and ultimately the pastor, must make sure the theology of what is sung is in line with the church’s teachings.

Not all music is beneficial to be sung in worship. Obviously secular music has no place in the worship service (this includes church weddings, but that’s another topic entirely). What about that fantastic piece the choir director found at a choral reading session or heard on the radio? Publishing companies wish to sell music, and composers write music which will sell, hoping that churches will use them.

Here is where we come into some problems. This may be surprising, but not every Christian out there is Lutheran (gasp!). Not every composer is Lutheran either. A choral piece can have the text/theme/sound a choir director is looking for, but what is the message? Is it a communion piece which says everything about remembering Jesus while eating bread and drinking wine yet says nothing about His body and blood? This is not a good piece to sing in a church which confesses “in, with, and under the bread and wine.” What about a snappy chorus which speaks of the joy of “finding Jesus?” It cannot be used in a church which confesses that “I cannot by my own reason or strength believe in Jesus and come to Him.”

The greatest preaching can be completely undone with the music which surrounds the preaching. I experienced this very paradox one Sunday when the “Praise Team” led the congregation in a song which had strong decision theology language, followed by the pastor speaking of how we cannot come to Jesus by our human nature. Yet which were the people humming as they headed home—the song or the sermon?

Luther understood the power of song. He knew that music was easily memorized and internalized, and so he incorporated doctrine into the songs the people sung. Our choir members today need to be diligent in keeping that concept in worship.

If I’m preaching to the choir, I apologize. There are many congregations out there who have astute choir directors who doctrinally review all their music. There are other congregations out there whose choir directors do not have that ability. In these cases, it falls upon the pastor to make sure the texts of the songs fit the teachings. This does not mean that every choral piece has to be published by an approved publisher or one can sing only J.S. Bach. There are many good choral pieces, but the pastor and choir director must work in concert (pardon the pun) to make sure the words are in doctrinal order.

Congregation members and choir members too can become better at discerning bad theology and say something to their choir director or pastor when they see or hear lyrics which are in conflict with the church’s teaching. We need to make sure we sing what we preach.