Called to Dance

“And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music.”

(Friedrich Nietzsche)

“The aim and final end of all music should be none other than the glory of God and the refreshment of the soul.”

(Johann Sebastian Bach)

I love music . . . all sorts of music (except for rap) . . . and, rarely does a day go by that I do not spend some time surrounded by music.  I am not an expert on music . . . especially church music.  Though I am a minister, I know very little about church music . . . or the theology of church music . . . or hymnology . . . or even the theology of secular music.  I took one, maybe two classes, in seminary dealing with church music . . . and, to be honest, I must have slept through them because I do not know anything about church music.  I share this because a friend and reader of this blog, knowing my ministerial background, asked me for my thoughts on church music.  This is my attempt at answering his request . . . and, hopefully, not sounding too dumb.

As much as I love music, I am not musical.  I cannot play an instrument . . . no piano, no guitar, no dulcimer, no flute, not even spoons.  I have a difficult time tapping my feet to the rhythms I hear . . . and, no I cannot chew gum and walk at the same time.  Nor can I sing . . . ask any congregation that I have ever served . . . ask my children who endure endless hours trapped in a car on vacation with their old man singing away to the music being played . . . ask the neighborhood dogs, and they will all vouch for me when I say that I cannot sing.  I am firmly in that camp that the psalmist refers to in the psalm asking people to make a “joyful noise unto the Lord!”  That is me despite my deep love for music.  With that disclaimer my statements are made out of a love for music and not out of an ability to perform it.

I think that music has always been . . . always been from the very beginning of God’s creation.  I think that it is like the air that we breathe . . . it surrounds us mostly unheard, but that it is always there waiting to be tapped into.  Some of us hear, some of us don’t.  I think that it is a big part of the contemplative life which calls all of us to silence so that we can hear . . . that we can hear the voice of God . . . and, that we can hear the music.  I think that the purpose of music is to take us to the depths of our souls . . . to open us to our real selves, the people that God created us to be . . . to open us up to ourselves and to the presence of the Holy . . . to open us to the true reality that remains after all the facades have been stripped away.  Like the presence of God, music surrounds us and we need to listen carefully to truly experience its holiness.

It has always amazed me . . . kept me in awe . . . how anyone can pick up an instrument and play music.  I have tried and I cannot produce music . . . noise, maybe, but not music.  It has always amazed me that someone Johann Sebastian Bach can sit at a piano or harpsichord and produce the great and beautiful music that we enjoy today.  I read once that he stated that all that music was just floating around in his head and all he had to do was to get it out of there and onto paper.  He said, “I play the notes as they are written, but it is God who makes the music.”  Music amazes me and puts me in awe . . . where does it come from?  Well, it is all around us . . . always around us.

In preparation of this blog I read a lot of articles about the purpose of church music.  There are as many opinions as to the purpose of church music as there are people writing them.  Yet, there is the central theme of “worship” in a lot of them.  The purpose of music is to worship . . . to worship God.  There are hundreds of references in the Bible towards this idea of music being used to worship God.  And, I guess that is as good a purpose as any other . . . it beats listening to the preacher.  Yet, I have been in a few churches and numerous services in which the music that was offered was less “worship” and more of a sacrifice.  I think the intentions were good, but the ability was not.  But, I can buy that music in church is to help worship God . . . sometime, though, I really think we ought to reconsider that when I hear some congregations sing.

Maybe music in church is to enhance the worship experience . . . not so much to worship God, but to entertain those who are gathered with a little heavenly noise.  We humans do not do well with silence . . . without music in church there would be a heck of a lot more silence.  That would not be good for business.  Using music to fill the gaps of silence in worship is like putting commercials into the service . . . sort of mind candy to occupy our minds during those slow, awkward moments of silence that make people uncomfortable.

Some churches and congregations use music to entertain the masses.  This is one that I hear a lot of complaints about from those whose churches believe that “traditional” is closer to the will of God, is done in red letter style, and holier than those churches into that Satanic, non-biblical, and paraphrased scriptures “contemporary” rock and roll offerings.  Of course this argument often has the age bias connected to it.  Is one form of church music better than another?  My goodness, there are as many different styles of church music as there is music in the world . . . there is Christian rock, Christian heavy metal, Christian reggae, Christian country, Christian bluegrass, and (I shudder) , Christian rap.  Everyone has an opinion . . . people are on both sides of the fence . . . and, the ones who are straddling the fence . . . well, those are the churches and congregations that have both the traditional and contemporary services being offered on the same day . . . or they do a “blended” service.  There is a church music war being waged and sometimes it gets pretty ugly.  Again, not good for business.

Personally, I really do not care.  The congregation that I am presently serving falls solidly in the traditional area . . . with a heavy splattering of the gospel music of Bill and Gloria Gaither.  We also have a lot of music that twenty, thirty, or even forty years ago was considered “contemporary”, but today it is thrown into the “traditional” category.  We often forget that the music that the great church musicians were writing and playing way back then was the rock and roll of their time.  I think that music has been unfairly labeled and categorized much like we humans have been.  Music is music . . . why do we need to label it?  We need to let music be music . . . to do its thing . . . and, to enjoy it.

I remember the first time that I had heard the hymn Amazing Grace played and sung to the tune of that rock and roll group’s song The House of the Rising Sun . . . wow, that was moving to the toes of my soul!  I suggested to the choir director of the church I was serving that we should try that in worship some time.  One would have thought that I had suggested blasphemy of the highest order.  Yeah, I know that the “house of the rising sun” was a house of prostitution . . . but this song gets into the holy.  Listen for yourself as the Blind Boys of Alabama sing it here.  (Yeah, I like the Blind Boys of Alabama!)  Music is music and if it gets me closer to knowing and understanding who I am as God created me . . . understanding the life I am living . . . getting me closer to God and the intimacy we have . . . then music has done its purpose.  It doesn’t have to be church music to do this.

As I stated at the beginning . . . music surrounds us like the air that we breathe.  Music’s purpose is to open us to ourselves and to God.  It is to strip away the barriers that keep us from touching the deepest roots of our own creation and who we are . . . it reveals our thoughts, feelings, and emotions whether we want to deal with them or not.  It reveals to us the Holy . . . the mystery of intimacy . . . it reveals to us the multi-faceted presence of God in so many unique and different ways that we are sometimes elated with joy or awestruck in fear.  Music is a means to the Holy . . . sometimes intentionally (like with church music), more times unintentionally.  Music moves us . . . makes us want to dance.  As the children of God we need to dance to the music we hear.  So what if no one else can hear it and think us crazy (Nietzsche) . . . it is a holy dance with the one who created us, loves us, and desires us to move in closer for the dance.  It doesn’t have to be church music that does that . . . any music can do that.  We just have to learn to listen.

Okay, last confession . . . I can’t dance either.  I know I joking say that after a few beers I am a regular Gene Kelly or Fred Astaire . . . but the truth is, beer lies to us.  But, I dance . . . it ain’t pretty, but I dance.  The Spirit . . . the music . . . moves me to dance.  Dance doesn’t even seem to care if I step on God’s toes.  I am not going waste time arguing with anyone about the music that should be played in churches because it takes away my time of listening to the music that is already there . . . like the air that we breathe . . . and, I can’t dance when I am arguing.  Whatever it takes to get you to dance . . . play it.  God wants to dance.

Grandpa Is Getting Old

I’m getting too old for this stuff . . .

This weekend the wife and I are babysitting our 14-month old granddaughter as her mother and father attend a wedding in the big city.  It was with great exuberance that the wife and I volunteered to take on this duty . . . we wanted to watch her.  We wanted to watch her in all of her non-ending youthfulness, non-ending energy, constantly walking, constantly wandering away, constantly getting into stuff . . . never wanting to take a nap . . . never wanting to go to sleep . . . and, constantly wanting to be noticed; yeah, we wanted to watch her . . . and, after one day we are wondering what we were thinking!!  We are getting too old for this stuff and she isn’t even a teenager yet!!

Now, don’t get me wrong . . . my granddaughter is the coolest and best thing that has ever happened.  I miss the punk when I don’t get to see her at least once a week . . . which probably prompted the wife and I into volunteering to watch the kiddo this weekend.  The kids moved to another big city in Montana a couple of hours away a few weeks ago.  I had not seen the kid since they moved . . . I was having granddaughter withdrawal.  So we volunteered . . . and, the adventure began.

The day began bright and early as we all heading off to the mountains to do a little “moosing”.  Moosing, for those of you who do not know what I am referring to, is cruising the back roads looking for moose.  To properly do “moosing” one has to get up very, very early . . . on the road by 6:00AM.  Without a complaint or even a whimper, the granddaughter joined us adults for a early morning of moose hunting.  She was a real trooper even though she was stuck in her car seat for a couple of hours . . . the reward was that we saw seven moose.  We saw three sets of momma moose and their children, and we saw one bull moose.  Unfortunately, at 14-months of age, the granddaughter will never remember any of it!

After a couple of hours of moosing, we headed to breakfast at one of the wife’s favorite eating establishment.  There the granddaughter was a blast.  Grabbing everything and anything . . . babbling away . . . flirting with people at other tables . . . and, demanding to taste everything that was on the table.  Constant energy . . . constant motion . . . and, constant noise.  I loved it!!  Who doesn’t like being with the cutest person in the room?

From there we decided to do a little walking around town . . . do a little shopping . . . after all, the acorn doesn’t fall far from the tree, and daughter and wife seemed to think there was a need to do a little shopping.  Fourteen month olds really don’t care much for shopping.  Fourteen month olds want to explore . . . search and destroy . . . go on what they think are Indian Jone’s adventure worthy of the silver screen.  The granddaughter was up to the task . . . we walked around countless stores . . . we tested the limits of a lot of store owners . . . tested the limits of Grandpa.  The punk must have walked a couple of miles!  The rest, Grandpa carried her.  Needless to say, even though she is quite petite, Grandpa got tired.

We walked the streets . . . we petted dogs . . . we looked in windows . . . sat on park benches . . . wandered the aisles of every store within a hundred miles . . . danced.  Yeah, I said, dance.  This granddaughter likes to dance . . . she likes to boogey.  Doesn’t matter the music, when the spirit hits her to dance, she dances.  Of course my dancing is not much better than my singing . . . but, being a grandparent cuts a person a little slack . . . people expect grandparents to act like idiots.  I need a granddaughter thirty years ago!! 

Again, I was tired.  She wore me out . . . she wore her parents out.  But, they were lucky as they were heading out and going to a wedding rehearsal.  A tear entered my eye as they pulled away from the house . . . what had we gotten ourselves into!!  A 14-month old and a nearly elderly couple . . . someone was going to lose in the end.

From the time that our granddaughter’s parents left she was a constant blur of activity.  She was a ball of energy . . . constantly moving energy.  Her grandparents, unfortunately, were not . . . we were more like the immovable blobs that wanted to sit on the couch and reminiscence about the good old days when we just sat there and held our granddaughter.  It was low energy, low impact. 

I do want you to know, there were chinks in the granddaughter’s armor.  She did start to get tired . . . which meant she got grumpy . . . but we were under strict orders to not let her sleep until her bedtime at seven o’clock.  That was nearly four hours away when the parents left . . . the wife didn’t make it.  She crashed in her recliner for a “ten-minute” nap that lasted nearly an hour . . . much to my horror!  I did a whole lot of walking around the yard and house with the granddaughter . . . we picked grandma’s flowers . . . walked up and down steps . . . danced in front of the bedroom mirrors . . . ate a lot of Cheerios . . . and, basically wore Grandpa out.  It was then that Grandpa decided that he was getting too old for this stuff.

Yet, we survived.  The granddaughter has now been asleep for over two hours . . . sawing logs.  Grandma has already hit the sack.  Grandpa is drinking beer, writing a blog, and wondering how in the world he is ever going to survive tomorrow when Grandma goes grocery shopping for a few hours, leaving him alone with the granddaughter.  He is not sure, but . . . he will survive.  He always survives to see his granddaughter another day.

At the end of a day with the granddaughter there is exhaustion.  Yeah, this exhaustion manifests itself physically in my body, but it is a “good” sort of exhaustion.  I love my granddaughter.  I love her 14-month old sense of adventure and wonder.  I love her goofiness.  I love her dancing.  I love her babbling.  I love holding her in my arms as she clings to hang on.  I love her “honking” my nose.  I love her sharing her food with the dogs.  I love her constant motion.  I love her laughter . . . and, I even love her tears.  She is a hoot . . . the best hoot I ever get.  She reminds me what it means to live life to its fullest . . . because she does each and every moment she is awake.  Yeah, it is exhausting, but it is a good exhaustion no matter what age one might be . . . it is life lived with joy.

My granddaughter is a blessing.  I thank God each and every day for this blessing.  I am not too old, she is too young . . . but the blessings are numerous . . . too numerous to count.  She makes me smile . . . she makes me laugh . . . she makes me sing . . . she makes me dance, but most of all she makes me feel loved.  No matter how old I get, I will never get enough of that sort of stuff.

Joyful Noise

Ministers are supposed to sing.  At least that is what I have been told by countless individuals and congregations over the years.  I must have missed that requirement in the brochure.  Or, maybe, I slept through that part of the recruitment lecture.  Either way, since I went into the ministry, I have encountered that myth in every congregation that I have served in the past 30–some years.  The joke is . . . I can’t sing!

Let me take that back . . . I can sing, I just sing poorly.  Always have.  Throughout elementary school I was always given speaking parts in school plays and presentations . . . I just thought I was a really good reader . . . that I was special, but the teachers knew.  It was a form of mercy . . . mercy for the audience’s ears.  Once, in our church youth group, we were doing a cantata—Noah’s Ark--for Sunday worship.  The church’s choir director made me the narrator, and told me that if I had to sing to lip sync—no sound, she threatenly said.  In one church the sound people turned my microphone off, others warned me to step away from the microphone.  The fact is, I cannot sing.  No amount of prayer, laying on of hands, or lighting of candles has yet to produce a musical miracle—I still cannot sing.

I take serious the dictum of the psalmist in the scriptures: “Mak a joyful noise unto the Lord . . .”  Though I sing poorly, I love to sing.  I just don’t sing when anyone else can hear me.  I sing while mowing the grass . . . while driving the car by myself and the windows are rolled up . . . when no one else is in the room . . . and, in church every Sunday morning . . . mind you, I stand three feet from the microphone like I have been taught, sing very quietly, and often with great lip syncing.  About the only audience that I have encountered that does not mind my singing are the family dogs . . . at least not yet . . . they howl along with me whenever I sing.  Then again, I might be wrong.  They are either deaf or my singing hurts their ears to the point they howl in pain!

So, there you have it . . . a contradiction . . . a minister who can’t sing, but loves to sing.  Congregations are learning . . . sometimes painfully, but mostly through word of mouth.  It is amazing how quickly a reputation can beat a person to a designation.  But, it is the truth . . . I cannot sing.  Ask any of the congregations I have served in five states and they will vouch for that fact.  They will tell you that I cannot sing, that in my letter of calling I must always stand three feet from the microphone when singing or lip sync—it is a noise pollution thing.  Though congregations are slow to understand this contradiction, I know that God understands.  God digs my joyful noise, while others plug their ears.

“Make a joyful noise unto the Lord . . .”  That is exactly what I do whenever I sing.  God has come to expect this joyful noise from my mouth whether it ever garners me a Grammy Award or not.  Even though the congregations I have served over the years will never publically admit, I think they have come to expect it too.  Worship just doesn’t sound just right when my joyful noise is not included.  It lets everyone know, no matter how poorly or well you sing, you are always welcome in God’s choir.  It is music to God’s ears . . . and, to mine.  Ha!  I might not be able to sing, but I make one heck of a joyful noise . . . and, God loves it!   

We Came as a Duo . . We're Going to Stay a Duo

I do not know of a single person who admits to being prejudice--especially within the "church."  When confronted with the charge of prejudice the resounding answer I have heard is, "Prejudice?  Not me!"  The fact is, we all are prejudice.  We all have things and people that we value, and those that we do not value.  When those values dictate the way that we treat others--good or bad--they become prejudice.

Take the situation of  Jonathan Antoine.  Never heard of Jonathan Antoine?  Well, Jonathan is the seventeen year old who wowed the audience and judges of Britain's Got Talent"--sort of like Susan Boyle did a while back.  One article described Jonathan as an "unassuming, shabby social misfit-type"--long stringy hair, overweight, dressed in a rock tee-shirt, bashful and shy, grungy looking, and not quite what one expects of its future rock and pop stars.  Disdain might be the best way to describe the way that he was questioned by Simon Cowell, the lead judge and creator of the show, especially when he cracked: "Just when you thought it couldn't get any worse."  There was not much respect shown towards Jonathan or his duet partner, Charlotte Jaconelli, as they prepared to sing.  The audience was circling for the failure and ridicule that was to sure to follow.

This is what happened:

 

As was expected the reaction of the audience and judges was of shock and surprise as they heard a wonderful rendition of Andrea Bocelli's and Celine Dion's "The Prayer".  To say the least the audience and judges gave the duo a well deserved standing ovation.  And, once again, as was the case with Susan Boyle, the audience and Simon Cowell were caught in their prejudice and left to eat crow.

I think that this was a fairly blatant example of how one's values can taint how others can be prejudiced against.  But, this was not the end . . . in fact, in the original tape that can be found on You Tube ( http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kt3Utn4mjeg) Simon Cowell's positive values turn into a prejudice--this time not against Jonathan, but against his singing partner Charlotte Jaconelli.  Several times he lets Jonathan know that he has a future as a singer--as a star, but he needs to ditch his partner.  Poor Charlotte just stood there like a balloon slowly leaking its air as Cowell put her down in hopes of improving Jonathan's chances of winning the competition.  This, too, is an act of devaluation--an act of prejudice.

Poor young lady . . . in front of a international audience she was reduced to nearly nothing as Cowell continued to pursue Jonathan dumping her.  Talk about being devalued.  At one point she looked as if she was going to cry.  Cowell pursued it all the way to the end . . . and then something heroic happened.  Heroic because it went against all the common sense and values of today's society . . . Jonathan responded to Cowell suggestion of dumping his partner by telling him (and everyone else): "Well, we come on here as a duo, and we're going to stay on here as a duo."

It was interesting, before casting the final ballot, that Cowell stated that in his head he saw this one way--the wrong way, but the conventional way in that it would never work, but in his heart he saw it as something magical.  Sadly, the way of the heart is the one true way, while the way of the head often leads to the pain and suffering for those who are devalued--those who are prejudiced against.

Jonathan Antoine is an exceptional talent who may or may not go far . . . at this point it would seem that the sky is the limit.  Yet, there is a long, tough road ahead of him . . . not because of his talent, but because of the way that he looks.  Sad, but true.  Had you heard Jonathan Antoine singing on the radio, how would you have envisioned him?  Probably nothing like he is . . . a prejudice?  Probably not, but definitely an issue of value . . . especially if you were disappointed when you finally saw the "real" Jonathan Antoine.

I do not want to accuse anyone of being prejudice--myself included.  We live in a world and society in which we place value upon things and people based on a myriad of standards--looks, color, education, wealth, clothing, and so on.  Often these values dictate the way that we treat others--some good, some bad, but most with indifference.  Those actions can drop into the realm of prejudice when we size up the value of another based on the way they look before we even know anything about them--just as it was done in Jonathan Antoine's situation on Britain Got Talent.  And, we also witnessed how value--even when trying to help--can drop into prejudice on the very same show a few minutes later with the same people.  Devaluing another to the point of removal is prejudice at its ultimate apex.

Yeah, the kid has a voice--the kid has talent, but more importantly he has got a heart.  He stood by his friend and singing partner when he was being encouraged to dump her because she would drag him down in the competition.  In that moment when he declared that they would remain a "duo"  I witnessed something magical--something special . . . for a moment, I saw God's Kingdom as it should be.  Together they might not win the contest and receive the big contracts and money, but together they showed the world that there is more to life than just the glory and power of rock and roll--there is the friendship and love that sees the value and beauty in everyone.  That is how God sees it . . . and that is how we should see it.

Yeah, sometimes God slips through the facade and allows us to see what could be.  Even on a cheesy show like Britain's Got Talent.  May Jonathan continue to share that vision.  In my eyes he is already a winner.