Tra La! It's May!

I've had a long tradition of listening to Julie Andrews sing "The Lusty Month of May" on May Day. Yes, I know it's silly and corny, but it's become a touchstone of my year, like putting the star on the Christmas tree, preparing a special dish for Thanksgiving, or making S'mores on the 4th of July.

May Day is not a religious holiday. It's among the most pagan celebrations of nature. But Christianity has a long history of absorbing and transforming pagan traditions and symbols. The Bible and the Gospel message are capable of embracing our entire lives, and sometimes we do need a reminder to throw caution to the wind, to be happy and enjoy our lives.

Surely our celebrations today won't take quite the same form that Guenevere's song implies, but I hope everyone does embrace life with a lusty zeal. Sometimes I see May Day as another chance to renew New Year's resolutions. It's the season of spring cleaning, summer plans, miles of running in the warm weather, yard work, and all kinds of ambitious new projects. Think of Julie/Guenevere and sing Tra La as you embrace spring!

Does performance intent matter?

Who would have thought that an organ recital could cause a tempest in a teapot? Musicians and clergy in the area have been debating the appropriateness of Cameron Carpenter's performance this week, especially following yesterday's Plain Dealer article. Some members of the American Guild of Organists are giddy at the chance to see him perform live, while others are ambiguous about whether he is all style versus substance. Some clergy are eager for the attention he brings to church music, while others fear his personal religious beliefs (or lack thereof) make his performance inappropriate.

I don't want to delve into the details of this debate. Frankly, I don't know him well enough to make judgements (and I think few of the people embroiled in this debate do either). What I find much more interesting is the question of whether a performer's traits, beliefs, and intent truly matter in a recital or in a worship setting.

Many organists play at churches of denominations other than their own faith. Personally, I've played for many Catholic services, including one year as a music director at a Catholic church, as well LCMS, Methodist, and other denominations. Clearly, I have beliefs and personal characteristics that are not in harmony with some of their doctrine. Does that make my music less effective or less appropriate?

Furthermore, there is a school of thought that interpretation is king in the arts. To take one popular novel as an analogy, consider Dan Brown's Da Vinci Code. Is the book an indictment of faith? A radical historical theory or revision? Perhaps it's a rollicking thriller? Or do you enjoy reading it for the history, art, and architecture? Could the author possibly have imbued the book with each of these levels with complete intention? Which one does he consider primary - and does it matter? If Dan Brown meant to attack religion, but you simply enjoy the story, then surely your interpretation trumps his intent.

Similarly, there are people who find faith in all kinds of unorthodox places. (This blog alone has mentioned Broadway shows, film and television, poetry and books, though most of them had no intent to preach.) Some people find more religious meaning in a trip to Severance Hall than a church.

Meanwhile, not every piece of church music will hold meaning for every listener. Some members of our congregation love to hear the harpsichord, some love to hear ancient chant music, or the original Latin mass parts. And for each of those styles, there are other members who find no joy or meaning.

So to return to Cameron Carpenter for a moment - should we care about his religious belief (or his outfits)? I say no. He won't be preaching; he'll be performing music. Don't the listeners' reactions to the music (from sublime prayer to indifference) outweigh anything he ever said in a newspaper interview?

Augustine, Luther, and the National Guard

I went to see the film "Avatar" the other day. (As an aside: It was quite good, though I found it to paint quite a bleak picture of humanity.) Before the movie, though, there was a fascinating ad from the National Guard.

In many ways, it was the typical military recruitment sequence: men and women in various inspiring situations, from climbing mountains to crawling through mud, from flying planes to working at a computer. What I found fascinating was the background music. It was neither a military march nor a patriotic tune. It was a large orchestral and choral work that could only summon the opening strains of Carmina Burana to my mind. It gave the message a unique power to capture my attention during previews I would typically ignore. Yet the incongruence of the music and the images unsettled me and made me marvel at the choice.

The issue of that contrast reminded me of the contrasting philosophies of church music of Augustine and Luther. Augustine largely argued against music in church, viewing it as a distraction from the theological message. In his "Confessions," he wrote, "Yet when it happens to me that the music movesme more than the subject of the song, I confess myself to commit a sin deserving punishment, and then I would prefer not to have heard the singer." By contrast, Luther said "Beautiful music is the art of the prophets that can calm the agitations of the soul; it is one of the most magnificent and delightful presents God has given us."

They both have a point. Music is powerful, and that power can be used to enhance a message, but it can sometimes distract us from a true understanding. It's always good to be reminded of the true purpose of worship and music, even when the source is an unorthodox reminder.

Unorthodox Wisdom - Buffy and Victor Hugo

Empathy and love of neighbor is at the heart of Christianity and also a theme of some great music and literature - To Kill a Mockingbird is the classic example. But I was thinking of it this week when I watched an old rerun of "Buffy, the Vampire Slayer."

The mere mention of that show (or any work by Joss Whedon) is sure to inspire nods of recognition of his genius from rabid fans, looks of derision from the uninitiated, and shrugs from the majority of the population. You can guess my bias in that continuum, but the show is a great guilty pleasure of mythology and philosophy in a story that turned the traditional vampire plot on its head. The young blonde girl doesn't twist an ankle and get eaten; she's the strong heroine of the story.

At any rate, in this particular episode, Buffy prevents a classmate from committing suicide. He is depressed because he feels invisible and lonely, ignored by the popular students, and burdened by personal pain that no one notices. Rather than offer the typical platitudes and comfort, however, Buffy responds with this monologue:

"I was wrong. You are an idiot. My life happens to, on occasion, suck beyond the telling of it. Sometimes more than I can handle. And it's not just mine. Every single person down there is ignoring your pain because they're too busy with their own...If you could hear what they were feeling, the loneliness, the confusion. It looks quiet down there. It's not. It's deafening."

Her speech reminded me of a scene in Victor Hugo's novel commonly known as "The Hunchback of Notre Dame." The priest's brother observes him in a moment of extreme emotion, and Hugo depicts his reaction:

"...he knew not with what fury that sea of the human passions ferments and boils when it is refused all egress; how it gathers strength, swells, and overflows; how it wears away the heart; how it breaks forth in inward sobs and stifled convulsions...The merry scholar never dreamed of the boiling, furious, and deep lava beneath the snowy brow of Etna."

Music can express and expose those emtions within us. As a congregation and as Christians, we are obliged to open our ears and our eyes to those around us, in their joy and in their suffering. When we sing a hymn, think of our voices blending; listen to each other; notice how our shared music erases the divisions among us.

Unorthodox wisdom - Marvin Hamlisch

Not too long ago, I listened to an interview on public radio's "Studio 360" with Marvin Hamlisch. He was talking primarily about composing the music for various films, including his most recent work for "The Informant." It was interesting to hear him describe the process of thinking about a character and having a musical motif simply come to mind. The host went so far as to describe it as a kind of synesthesia.

I don't think of myself as a composer, though I dabble in small things for church. But I think the truly great composers think primarily in a musical language that is their mother tongue, in the way Hamlisch is describing. They hear text and immediately translate it into music; they feel an emotion and hear a melody.

Church music is elevated prayer, whether or not it includes text. At its best, it is the sublime expression of praise and penitence, prayer and proclamation. Of course, Hamlisch composed music for "A Chorus Line," which encapsulates this process in the medium of dance. In particular, the song "Music and the Mirror" talks about expression through dance. I'll close with a portion of that song's lyrics today:

Give me somebody to dance with.
Give me a place to fit in.
Help me return to the world of the living
By showing me how to begin.

Play me the music.
Give me a chance to come through.
All I ever needed was the music, and the mirror,
And the chance to dance for you.

Unorthodox Wisdom - Peter Vaill

Next week we have our congregational budget meeting. Like all mission-driven organizations, churches struggle to balance priorities, mission, and budget. Of course, the struggles of Catholic churches around the Cleveland area have been prominent in the headlines, and no congregation seems to be immune from the demographic and economic challenges around us.

The biggest danger is to think that we will restore all our priorities "when things calm down" or "get back to normal." When you prepare music every week, you quickly learn that things never do settle down into the free time you'd like to have to accomplish all your goals. You simply do the best you can, ask for help, and try to look at the big picture as much as possible.

It all reminds me of the business management writings of Peter Vaill. One of his books is titled Permanent Whitewater, and the premise is that the business world is always in flux. You must make decisions in times of turmoil and hope for the best. I'm hopeful that we will make prayerful decisions, keeping in mind our mission and planning for the future.

Unorthodox wisdom - cages or wings?

Pastor's mention of birds in cages in his sermon last week immediately brought to mind the musical "Tick, Tick, Bomb" by Jonathan Larson (better known for creating "Rent"). The story is a meditation on turning 30 in the year 1990, being a member of Generation X, and searching to find your way in life. The song "Louder Than Words" is full of important and rhetorical questions for us to consider, including the refrain "Cages or wings? Which do you prefer? Ask the birds. Actions speak louder than words."

These are great questions for us on all levels - as individuals, as a congregation, a community, and a world-wide church. Why is it so difficult to overcome inertia and increase involvement, to take risks and try new things? One of my favorite memories from Kushner's writing is that he says the Talmud states that God will someday ask each of us to justify the choices we made - not just what we did, but what we chose not to do in life. That would go beyond sins of omission to simple experiences and risks that could have been taken that would have made us (and/or those around us) happier. There are so few risks in my own life that I truly regret, and there are so many minor things that we should all try - even simple things like singing the proper Gospel Acclamation, for example! Here's Jonathan Larson's words on the subject:

Why do we play with fire?
Why do we run our finger through the flame?
Why do we leave our hand on the stove
Although we know we're in for some pain?

Oh, why do we refuse to hang a light
When the streets are dangerous?
Why does it take an accident
Before the truth gets through to us?
...
Why should we blaze a trail
When the well worn path seems safe
And so inviting?
...
What does it take
To wake up a generation?
If we don't wake up
And shake up the nation
We'll eat the dust of the world
Wondering why.

Unorthodox wisdom - sounds of silence

Isn't it amazing how a phrase can become so completely associated with a piece of music? In church music there are simple things like "Holy, Holy, Holy," which immediately conjure the rousing march-like hymn tune or Biblical passages (often Isaiah) that for some people instantly spark motifs from Handel's Messiah. Simon and Garfunkel will forever "own" that phrase, won't they?

I've been thinking a lot about silence lately and how integral it is to the experience of music. When the choir sang "Verily, verily" a couple of weeks back by Tallis, I encouraged them to think about the driving eighth-note beat that lays underneath the piece as if it began long ago and continues well after the piece is done. Even in the rests between phrases, that tactus continues to carry on - music is heard sequentially in time so the silences can have meaning.

When a piece comes to an end, the silence can be a profound moment of contemplation, even a reaction to what was just heard. (I personally detest when an audience member insists on being the first to applaud, as if proving how much he or she loved the music. In my opinion, if you loved it so much, you'd be savoring the experience of the silence.)

I'll be musing on the "meaningful silences" of the church service and music in general in the coming couple of weeks. But I figured I should lead with the most famous lyric that starts from a simple memory of a dream and goes on to tell us much about the power and meaning of silence:

"Hello darkness, my old friend,
I've come to talk with you again,
Because a vision softly creeping,
Left its seeds while I was sleeping,
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence."

Unorthodox wisdom

I heard the news about the death of Mary Travers today, and it really has created a sense of melancholy around the day. It certainly isn't hip or cool or trendy to be a fan of Peter, Paul, and Mary, but I have always liked their music. For one thing, there is the beautiful three-part harmonies of their song. There is also the fun factor of some of their upbeat songs, but mostly there is the depth and power of their lyrics, even when they were simple. They sang brilliant songs of protest and commentary in an enduring style.

This morning, I've been thinking of Mary's husky voice singing these lyrics:

If you miss the train I'm on, you will know that I am gone
You can hear the whistle blow a hundred miles,
A hundred miles, a hundred miles, a hundred miles,
You can hear the whistle blow a hundred miles.

Lord I'm one, Lord I'm two, Lord I'm three, Lord I'm four,
Lord I'm 500 miles from my home.
500 miles, 500 miles, 500 miles, 500 miles
Lord I'm five hundred miles from my home.

Not a shirt on my back, not a penny to my name
Lord I can't go a-home this a-way
This a-way, this a-way, this a-way, this a-way,
Lord I can't go a-home this a-way.

Live life with Glee

In Terrence McNally's brilliant play Master Class, the character of Maria Callas refers to the theatre as "a sacred place." If you understand that sentiment, or if you just love rooting for the underdog and hearing some great music, you need to watch Glee on Wednesdays at 9:00 on Fox this season. (The show had a premiere this past spring to help capitalize on the popularity of American Idol, but the season just started this week. You can catch the rerun of the premiere on Friday night at 9:00.)

The show so perfectly captures the angst and earnestness of high school theatre and music geeks that you simultaneously squirm but can't look away. The cast is hugely talented - Matthew Morrison played Link Larkin in Hairspray on Broadway and Lea Michele played the role in the acclaimed show Spring Awakening. The music and the dancing are both superb and hillarious.

How is it related to church music? Well, to me (like McNally's version of Maria Callas), music and musical theatre are their own forms of worship. At its best, it can awaken your soul while it entertains. The show also reminds us to be kind to each other and to live life with glee - that sounds like the Gospel message to me.

Unorthodox Wisdom, Part 8: Television

Last week, I listened to Public Radio's "Speaking of Faith" (a show that may have come up a time or two before!) and their discussion about television. In recent years, with the advent of high quality cable drams, television has been awash in writing and acting of extremely high caliber. And many of the shows have not shied away from spiritual musings. To give just one example, Damon Lindelof, co-creator of Lost, offered this explanation for the show:

This show is about people who are metaphorically lost in their lives, who get on an airplane, and crash on an island, and become physically lost on planet Earth. And once they are able to metaphorically find themselves in their lives again, they will be able to physically find themselves in the world again. When you look at the entire show, that's what it will look like. That's what it's always been about.

Krista Tippett mused that the metaphor of going home suffuses the human experience. It's the theme not just of modern television but of the Odyssey and the Exodus. I would add Watership Down and The Razor's Edge to that list. One of the great themes of literature and worship is the idea of returning home. Having played organ for a funeral at Bethany last week, I'm acutely aware of how many of our best known hymns are also about our eternal home and rest.

The theme of going home does not always lend itself to hymn texts that are theologically profound enough for inclusion in the ELW and the traditional Lutheran canon. But I'll close today with a somewhat popular hymn on the theme that you may be familiar with. It is sung to the tune of the second movement of Dvorak's New World Symphony:

Going home, going home,
I'm just going home.
Quiet-like, slip away -
I'll be going home.
It's not far, just close by;
Jesus is the door;
Work all done, laid aside,
Fear and grief no more.
Friends are there, waiting now.
He is waiting too.
See His smile! See His hand!
He will lead me through.

Unorthodox wisdom, Part 7 - Michael Jackson music in church

You may have heard of Trinity Wall Street primarily for its proximity to Ground Zero and the church's transformation into a place of respite and support in the days following the 9/11 attack. I visited again last December, and the place still contains powerful tributes to that time.

Today, however, I want to share a YouTube video of their organist playing a tribute to Michael Jackson as the postlude. The organist Robert Ridgell is incredibly talented, and I'm sure he made many people smile. Of course, if you read the comments you'll notice that he made many people frown as well. Anything out of the ordinary, and especially such a radical postlude, is sure to bring polarization and comments.

I'll admit to my ignorance of most of Michael Jackson's work. (I was only 4 years old when Thriller was released, and I spent most of my youth as a musical theatre and classical piano geek. For better or worse, rock and pop music barely registered on my radar.) The one song I've always known best is "Man in the Mirror" - one of the top downloads and best selling songs worldwide in the past week. It includes this Gandhi-esque lyric that I think most Christians would agree is a good philosophy of life:

If you want to make the world a better place
Take a look at yourself, and then make a change.

Incidentally, Trinity also has a great web site in general (www.trinitywallstreet.org). Their music pages include podcasts and information on services and concerts. They also have a number of blogs, written by both staff and members. I think it's inspiring to see such a traditional looking church be so enmeshed with modernity and technology and the world today.

Unorthodox sources - Part 6: Sing! Make Your Own Kind of Music!

To my ears, it sounded like the Gloria went better for the congregation as a whole this week. I hope that hearing David sing through it as the prelude was helpful, and thanks David for agreeing to do so.

Too often, people say that they "can't sing." Perhaps they were even told that by a music teacher or a friend, and what a shame! In my years of summer stock theatre, I often worked with actors who had never before been in a musical and came in calling themselves tone deaf. Two weeks later they were competently contributing to the chorus. We can't all sing the lead roles, perhaps, and we may not be comfortable as a solosit, but that's no excuse to avoid joining the congregation in song or singing in the shower or whistling while you garden.

We read one of my favorite psalms today, and it's truly a shame that we didn't sing this text:

You have turned my wailing into dancing;
you have put off my sackcloth and clothed me with joy.
Therefore my heart sings to you without ceasing;
O Lord my God, I will give you thanks forever.

On a similar note, Pastor's message for the children about the uniqueness of every shell and grain of sand and person reminded me of some song lyrics from the Mamas and the Papas:

Nobody can tell ya
There's only one song worth singin'.
They may try to sell ya,
'cause it hangs 'em up
to see someone like you.

You've gotta make your own kind of music;
Sing your own special song.
Make your own kind of music,
even if nobody else sings along.

And that reminded me of a concert version by Barbra Streisand, where she paired it with another song:

Sing, sing a song.
Sing out loud; sing out strong.
Sing of good things, not bad.
Sing of happy, not sad.

Sing, sing a song.
Make it simple to last your whole life long.
Don't worry that it's not good enough
For anyone else to hear.
Just sing, sing a song.

The hymn that stuck with me today is "All Hail the Power of Jesus' Name!" I've been humming it around home all day. I hope everyone else is following the psalmist's injunction to dance and sing praise to God.

Unorthodox wisdom - part 5

In honor of Memorial Day, Sunday's closing hymn was "The Battle Hymn of the Republic," which is always a popular and rousing song because people are so familiar with it. I noticed, however, that the editors of the ELW demonstrated their reserve of the militaristic theme by retitling it "Mine Eyes Have Seen the Glory." The very presence of the hymn in the ELW is an example of unorthodox wisdom, since the song was first popular during the Civil War as a pro-Union anthem.

However, the militaristic nature of this hymn derives largely from the marching music to which the poetry is set. If you sit down and read Julia Ward Howe's poem, you'll see that the text refers to war primarily through symbolism. It's a rich text of imagery that includes tender moments like the opening of verse three: "In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea; with a glory in his bosom that transfigures you and me." Set that text to a lullaby and nobody would consider it in any way militaristic!

Verse three continues with my favorite line in the hymn: "As he died to make men holy, let us live to make men free." Here, the richness of the tune and text combine to allow multiple levels of meaning. As American heroes died in war, as Christ died to save us, and as early Christian martyrs died for their faith - in recognition of all those sacrifices, let us live our lives thankfully and joyfully, working to make the world a better, more loving, more Christian place. All of that meaning in such a short line of text!

That particular line of text also sent me to my boxed DVD set of The West Wing to rewatch the episode "Isaac and Ishmael." In the wake of the September 11th terrorist attacks, the show devoted one episode to a forum for discussing politics, religion, and war. In response to a student's question about martyrs, the fictional President Bartlet replied, "We don't need martyrs right now. We need heroes. A hero would die for his country but he'd much rather live for it." It reminds me of another famous text that "they'll know we're Christians by the way we live." It's a sentiment I think most of us can agree with, and I think it's a sentimenet we all struggle to implement daily.

Unorthodox wisdom - Part 4

It's season finale time for the television networks. One of the shows I watch regularly is "House," whose main character is about as hostile to Christianity (and any organized religion) as any character in television history. Hugh Laurie's character is acerbic and sarcastic - a deeply flawed genius. For all his flaws, I can identify at least two traits that we'd all be better off for emulating.

First, Dr. House is on a perpetual quest for understanding and knowledge. He is the ultimate skeptic philosopher. Along with Plato and Montaigne, he believes strongly in examining our lives and motives, thinking about history and science, and discovering truth. Sometimes the greatest doubters and nonbelievers eventually find their way to fervent belief through ongoing exposure to the questions in their lives. We should tackle scripture and belief ourselves with such energy and passion. We may even learn to convince others when they see our rigor.

Second, Dr. House solves cases because he has so much experience and wisdom, garnered from years of questioning and learning. In the season finale, he can diagnose pancreatic cancer from basically a bad case of the hiccups. What this exemplifies for me is the way that a broad education can bring meaning to the most mundane items. From a musical perspective, if you understand what the term "fugue" means, you hear a piece of music in an entirely different way.

Thinking about this point drove me to my bookshelf for Aaron Copland's What to Listen for in Music. His preface states that his goal is to allow you to answer two questions about music: 1. Are you missing anything as far as the notes...? 2. Is your reaction...quite clarified? It takes him nearly 300 pages to answer those two questions. We need a lifetime of knowledge and experience to understand great things - like music, like church, like God's love.

So House represents one more reminder that music does require some work, some knowledge, some discussion. But like House's moments of realization in so many episodes, we also need to be open to the possibilities and the magic that is beyond knowledge. Seeking plus knowledge plus listening equals epiphany.

Unorthodox wisdom - Part 3

All of the good theatrical spoofs about religion seem to be about the Catholics - Nunsense, Monk-y Business, and today's unorthodox source: Altar Boyz. The show is a hillarious off-Broadway story about a Christian boy band made up of Matthew, Mark, Luke, Juan, and Abraham (their Jewish friend).

I've seen the show a bunch of times (although there always seems to be a story about how I manage to get free tickets). It's full of laughs and fun upbeat music. Truthfully, they mock Christianity and Catholocism pretty gently, and it's a lot of fun to watch them parody the boy bands with their liberal, Christian rock songs.

You can't help but notice that as foolish as they seem, the characters are also heartfelt and devoted Christians. The underlying wisdom they share throughout the show is that you don't have to be a Bible-thumping, holier-than-thou, politically protesting Christian. We've let that narrow, exclusionary vision take over the public image of what being a Christian is all about, when everyone should be welcomed (and invited!) to be a part of God's family. As a member of a minority, I'm biased of course, but my experience with Lutheranism has been primarily about inclusion in a Gospel message of hope and joy. I think this portion of the song "It Doesn't Matter" sums that up pretty well:

It doesn't matter
If you're different and out of place
It doesn't matter
If there's acne upon your face
It doesn't matter
Take my hand and then
You will see
Everybody fits in God's great family.

In the family of God you'll learn
That there is no such thing as others
All the women and men on Earth
Can be your sisters and your brothers.

It doesn't matter
If you're wrinkled and old and grey
It doesn't matter
If you face Mecca when you pray
It doesn't matter
If you're yellow or white or red
It doesn't matter
If you're pregnant and you're unwed
It doesn't matter
Cause the truth it can set you free
Everybody fits in God's great family.

Wisdom from unorthodox sources - Part 2

Lent is mainly a time of introspection - a consideration of our sins and Christ's sacrifice. I once had a friend who would attend church with me but refused to recite the confession because he said it focused too much on what a bad person he was, when he thought of himself as a basically good person. In my opinion, though, it's liberating to confess that we are imperfect (and some people will no doubt chuckle at that, knowing what a perfectionist I am). To me, the Ash Wednesday confession in particular ("by my own most grievous fault") is both beautiful poetry and reassuring in the knowledge that we are forgiven.

But to forgive and love, and to do either of them unconditionally, is basically beyond our human abilities. My dad, who teaches in NDSU's Department of Education, points out to his pupils that it's very easy to love all your students in the abstract. It's much harder to love the student standing in front of you - even when he or she is being difficult or disagrees with you or even just comes from a different background, perspective, or lifestyle that you don't understand and can't relate to.

So today's unorthodox source is about forgiveness and love: the song "I Don't" by Danielle Peck. If you're not familiar with it, you can hear her sing the basic version, but I'm talking here mostly about its dance mix version, which I can't find on a free site online. The dance version has a strong disco-style beat that makes the beginning feel a lot like "I Will Survive" - basically your standard post-break-up anthem:

"You say you're doin' better
For your sake I hope it's true
I wish you well
But that's all that I can do
Save your 'I'm sorry's'
Just leave 'em at the door
You can't make me feel guilty anymore."

But it's the chorus of this song that has the punchline. To forgive is divine. We are saved through God's forgiveness, even when confessions and apologies cannot bring forgiveness from our friends, neighbors, and loved ones:

"You say I should stay with you
That Jesus forgives you
You pray I will, but I won't
The difference is
Jesus loves you,
I don't."

I can't help it; the chorus makes me laugh every time I hear it. We can all relate to the singer's anger, can't we? But Jesus loves and forgives us all (even those people we can't bring ourselves to forgive and love). That's good wisdom, even if it comes from the dance mix of a country song.

Wisdom from unorthodox sources - Part 1

Let's admit it: sometimes churches take themselves too seriously. Sometimes musicians are too stuffy. Sometimes wisdom can be found in the oddest and most unexpected of places - a diamond in the rough.

As an eclectic musician, I find inspiration in a range of places - songs and lyrics that make me smile or make me think. We can't bring all music into our worship services, but we can take a Lutheran understanding out into the world where we can laugh or think (or both). So here's the first in a new series of unorthodox songs that I hope will make you hum to yourself and smile and discover God in the least likely of places.

Do you recognize Susan Sarandon from the picture and have you guessed the source? Here's the lyric that I'm "Christianizing" today:

"In the velvet darkness of the blackest night,
Burning bright,
There's a guiding star.
No matter what or who you are,
There's a light..."

Our light is Christ (not the Frankenstein place), but wouldn't it be great if we could always spread the Gospel with such popularity, energy, and fun!