August 16 '03
Volume 374
Church Music
A Serious Side Of Religion
There are some
of us who take our religion seriously, though there
may be fewer of us than there once were. We’re easy to spot in a crowded
sanctuary. When all of those around us are clapping wildly, following a musical
presentation, we’re just sitting there, immobile, but smiling and thinking
that an offering to the LORD should be
appreciated differently than a performance at a public auditorium or coliseum.
We also like our times of worship structured and predictable, but that
characteristic doesn’t lend itself to easy detection, and we sometimes
have to speak out for others to know how we feel. Our failure to openly express
ourselves allows others to conclude our silence is indicative of our approval.
We who take our religion seriously are not too enthused by change, and we
are concerned that Church Music, particularly singing, is suffering from
an infusion of ineptitude. The great hymns of the past are rapidly being
set aside as no longer relevant. The repetitive babbling of many modern worship
choruses often reverberates in rafters that only a few years ago swelled
to the rich refrains of hymns.
At a recent revival service, the phrase, "Jesus, you are welcome here" and
it's abridged form, "you are welcome here" were repeated no less that twenty-two
times by an ensemble that modern churches call a Praise Team. I don't know
much about Praise Team singing, but if what I recently heard is typical,
then the only difference in a congregation singing a worship chorus and the
same being sung by a Praise Team is that the melody of the worship chorus
is sung in unison while a Praise Team breaks the song into harmony.
I can’t say what’s fueling the change in Church Music, but it’s
becoming epidemic. Like a non-discriminatory virus, it infects churches of
many denominations, including Methodists and Baptists, though the Church
Of Christ, which is a stickler for "First Century-ism," may be resistant
to a modern infection. I’ve a strong feeling the Baby Boomer generation
is behind all this "feel good" music. If that’s the case, it may soon
be the only time a hymn will be sung in church is on an occasional "Golden
Oldie’s Sunday."
There are persons other than this writer who are concerned about the present
circumstances of Church Music, even younger persons. I recently heard a
commentator on National Public Radio introduced as a student who had spent
the past year traveling around the country visiting as many churches as possible
before turning her attention to Drew Theological Seminary, a Methodist
institution, this fall. Transcribed from a cassette tape, the commentary
of Meredith Gudger follows:
I'm not one to lament the days gone by or bemoan a new generation of ideas,
especially when it comes to progress in Protestant Christianity, but the
current state of Church Music almost has me longing for the good old days.
When congregations stand to sing, they no longer reach for their hymnals.
Overhead projectors flash each verse on the wall in front of the congregation
like an eye test or a second-grade handwriting lesson.
New church leaders proclaim, "Those stuffy old songs aren't the language
of the people. We need to bring in new music to reach a new generation."
Apparently, the language of the people is now first-grade English, and
the new generation is as mindless as sheep. A middle class college-town
congregation sings, "Your name is Jesus," four times in a row. I can't bring
myself to add my voice to the others. Jesus knows what his name is and us
telling him all about it is a waste of time.
"I am not worthy," another song says, for another four lines.
Apparently the creativity of Christians has diminished so significantly
that one uncomplicated line is now considered plenty of material for a song.
I wouldn't be surprised if one day soon words flashed in front of me read,
"The Bible is right, screw the rest," four times in a row, of course.
Traditional hymns not only use multi-syllabic words they express the
complexity of ideas.
One traditional hymn celebrates the gift of endless love, "What a friend
we have in Jesus, all our sins and grief to bear. What a privilege to carry
everything to God in prayer." Another challenges us to work for justice asking,
"Are ye able to remember when a thief lifts up his eyes that his pardoned
soul is worthy of a place in Paradise?"
Four lines of "I am not worthy" are an inexcusable substitute. New music
doesn't have to be crap. Just as God didn't stop after the Biblical canon
was closed, the creation of sacred music didn't end when Handel finished
his Messiah or Charles Wesley polished off his seven-thousandth hymn.
Many creative honest people are still expressing their love for God through
spiritually stimulating music. The United Methodist Hymnal is peppered with
a hundred hymns written in the last few decades. But, these newer hymns go
unsung, because our hymnals are closed, stacked in some dusty corner, away
from the projector's glare.
Our generation is not the first to struggle with the reality of the Divine,
the lessons of the Bible, or the purpose of our lives. By scraping old hymns,
we loose the wisdom of those journey makers who went before us. We neglect
the complexity of our faith, glomming [grabbing] onto a prefab formula.
Without the tradition of our faith, we become nothing but irrational Bible
shouters, repeating the same phrases over…and over…and over.
Sore Mouth
Upper Partial Not Present
Have you ever run your tongue over a tooth and along the gum line and discovered
something felt different. It happened to me on Monday, August 04, shortly
after I left Indianola and headed toward Pontotoc. I repeated the exploratory
process and paid closer attention to the sensation. I thought my upper partial
might be responsible for the odd feeling, because an occasional drop will
knock the anchor arms out of alignment, but then I didn't remember dropping
the partial anytime recently.
The tooth capturing my interest for the moment was my right rear molar, one
of the several crowned teeth in my $10,000 (and climbing) mouth. I picked
the $10,000 figure straight out of the blue, and if all past charges for
tooth and gum repair were totaled, the figure would come much closer to $50,000,
and it scares me to think about it. However, my million-dollar smile would
be greatly lacking without my teeth.
As it's sometimes difficult for me to tell what's going on inside my mouth
by tongue exploration alone, I placed a finger on the tooth to get a second
opinion from a sensory object readily at my disposal. Something fell onto
my tongue, first one object and then another. To a growing list of distractions
for drivers, I need to add the oral expulsion of broken teeth. That's right,
one of my eight hundred dollar teeth just plopped into my hand along with
a piece of dental amalgam (or filling).
I managed to keep the car in the correct lane as I inspected the broken pieces
of tooth I had removed from my mouth and observed the porcelain crown still
intact. There appeared to be more of the tooth in my hand than remained in
my mouth. I tried to avoid touching my tongue to that portion of my tooth
still attached, as I've learned it only takes a few rough edges to scratch
up a tongue in a hurry.
It was after five o'clock so I made no effort to phone Dr. Fred Murphree,
my dentist. I knew if he were not on vacation that he would see me sometime
the next morning with or without an appointment. Dr. Murphree has reached
retirement age, but he enjoys the challenges he faces with his aging clients
and is likely to continue working into his seventies.
I was at the dentist's office shortly after 8:00 a.m. the next day and was
soon seated in a recently vacated patient room. Vickie Murphree, my dentist's
wife/ receptionist directed me to the last patient room on the left, I asked
her what the multi-colored plastic devices positioned high and to the left
of each doorway represented. The contraptions had four colored triangles
that could each be pivoted perpendicular to the doorway.
Vickie explained the colors represented room conditions and mentioned all
the possibilities, but I only remember one color meant a patient was waiting
inside, another one noted the room needed to be cleaned for the next patient,
and one color represented "room empty." Perhaps, the fourth color indicated
patient treatment had begun? I'll find out on my next visit.
I don't know how other patients of Dr. Murphree feel about him, but every
time I'm in his office he makes me feel like I'm the only patient in the
building. He always has a big smile and handshake for me and invariable asks
about life in the Delta. He also laughs when I explain that I spend as little
time as possible in the Mississippi Delta. He began practicing dentistry
in Marks, MS, and fully understands why us folks from Northeast Mississippi
would just as soon not be seen after dark in the Delta.
When I showed him my broken crown and he examined my tooth, the frown on
his face gave me reason for concern, as did his evaluation.
"Get me my extractors," he said to his assistant. "I may not be able to save
this one."
As she responded, he began to pick and poke my tooth with one of the sharp
instruments we laymen are told never to use in our mouth.
"Maybe…" he paused, and I could almost hear his mental gears in motion,
"just maybe, I can do you some good, but first I need to numb you up."
"Numb you up" is a euphemism for "stick you with a needle." Normally, needle
shots in the gums don't hurt, but I've discovered it's still true that anytime
a dentist forces a needle alongside the tooth and into the gum, there's enough
of a bite to it to make me wince. Within a half-hour a drill bit was grinding
away at my tooth.
Just when I had reason to hope my tooth could be saved, he stopped drilling
and told the nurse he needed an X-ray.
"I don't want to split the roots, and I'm not sure how much further I can
go," he explained.
Needless to say, after he viewed the X-ray, I was relieved to hear, "Good,
we've got all kinds of room left."
I spent the next several minutes hearing all about the giant of a man who's
been making crowns and partials for Dr. Murphree for most of his life and
how Dr. Murphree was expecting a call from the guy protesting what was being
asked of him regarding a replacement crown for my tooth. At some point Dr.
Murphree commented that while working in Marks, he learned that the teeth
of Oriental persons are different from Caucasian and Blacks.
"How's that?" I questioned during one of the infrequent opportunities to
question or respond without a hand, instrument, or other object in my mouth.
"Are they slanted?"
Go ahead; slam me as a racist! However, isn't it possible that individuals
with slanted eyes might also have other distinctive markings such as slanted
teeth? Yes, it was a cheap laugh, but I enjoyed it.
"No, but they do have ridges," Dr. Murphree responded without saying much
else to further my understanding of Oriental teeth, but that's okay, since
I have little reason to examine the teeth of any of the Chinese folks my
company supplies out of Indianola.
Prior to placing a temporary crown on the "mostly root" of a tooth, impressions
were made, which is a whole 'nother unpleasant, but necessary, process. As
I was preparing to leave the room, I was still pulling bits of gooey adhesive
and impression compound from the corners of my mouth.
"Where's my partial," I asked.
"We have to send it along with the impression," the assistant explained.
Some days my brain doesn’t get into overdrive until afternoon. I knew
the partial had to be sent off in order to assure it would lock properly
onto the new crown, but at that particular moment I was thinking only of
the moment.
As of this writing, my partial that comprises four teeth, two upper teeth
per side, and the new crown are not with me. I consider myself as being short
of five teeth, because the temporary crown doesn't come close to striking
the tooth beneath it. For the first four days of being without several of
my teeth, I attempted to eat the same foods I normally eat. However, about
the fifth day, my exposed gums and roofline were swollen and too sore to
eat most anything. Even a glass of cornbread and milk gave me pains as I
tried to eat.
After a week, Barbara took pity on me and shared some of her dental medications,
which worked a miracle overnight. Now, with the soreness gone, I'm back to
eating normal foods again, but I think I'm losing weight, because I mostly
avoid food during the day. I don't eat a meal at lunch. Instead, I try to
find a soft cookie or two and a cup of coffee to hold me over until supper.
It will be no sooner than August 22nd when I get my partials back
with the new crown. Assuming all goes well, I'll be chowin' down on a ribeye
steak that Friday night.
Bodock Beau
Subscriber Submissions
A preacher whose flock had heard every sermon--at least once--over a decade
had grown restless. They decided to come up with an idea that might help
the minister in preparing some fresh material. A suggestion box was proposed.
Some of the leaders in the church asked the minister to go along with the
idea, and he said OK. Each Sunday, it was agreed, he would pull a suggested
topic out of the box and preach off the top of his head.
The first Sunday for this experiment rolled around and, naturally, the church
was filled. The congregation anxiously waited as the minister approached
the suggestion box and pulled out a sheet of folded paper. Opening it, he
at first read the suggestion to himself.
The note, which he then read aloud, contained one word, Constipation.
After a few moments to collect his thoughts, he stepped to the pulpit and
opened his address.
"Please open your Bibles to the book of Genesis," the minister began, nervously.
"Then turn to the part where it says Moses took the tablets and went into
the hills alone."
Contributed by Floyd McCullough.
THE HOLY LAND
A guy goes on vacation to the Holy Land with his wife and his mother-in-law.
On the trip, the mother-in-law dies.
They go to an undertaker who explains that they can ship the body
home but that it'll cost over $5000, whereas they can bury her in the Holy
Land for only $150.
The guy says, "We'll ship her home." The undertaker asks, "Are you sure?"
That's an awfully big expense and we can do a very nice burial here."
The guy says, "Look, 2000 years ago they buried a guy here and three days
later he rose from the dead. I just can't take that chance."
Submitted by Amy Houtz
Honest Drunk?
A woman was shopping at her local supermarket where she selected a quart
of 2% milk, a carton of eggs, a quart of orange juice, a head of romaine
lettuce, a 2 lb. can of coffee, and a 1 lb. package of bacon. As she was
unloading her items on the conveyor belt to check out, a drunk standing behind
her watched as she carefully placed the items in front of the
cashier.
He said, "You must be single." The woman, a bit startled but intrigued by
the derelict's intuition, looked at her 6 items on the
belt.
Seeing nothing particularly unusual about her selections she said, "Well,
you know what, you're absolutely correct. But how on earth did you possibly
know that?"
The drunk replied, "'cause you're ugly."
Submitted by Anson Adams
This Day In History - August 16th:
Wayne Carter, Editor and Publisher of
Ridge Rider
News, born in Pontotoc, MS,
1942.
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