Throwing The Book At Them

Ann Ahrens got me thinking . . .

Actually, she re-invoked something I had already lamented—or at any rate—pondered. While one way of looking at the traditional vs. modern ratios involves the actual music itself, another involves something far more subtle, but that I am nonetheless finding more and more . . . um, disconcerting.

And I don’t know why that is.

Somewhere along the road, the PowerPoint projection screen hit the main apostolic artery, with regards to our lyrics—both to our choruses and the occasional paean to our heritage by singing something actually written by Thomas Dorsey. As this seemingly natural, technological advance has set in, I’m noticing that the tactile, landmark tradition of thumbing through the hymnbook has all but evaporated.

It’s not that I have some doctrinal aversion to technology. The overhead projector was a part of my church life, long before I ever saw the truth. But the overhead projector still managed to project something that seems missing from that narcolepsy-inducing blue screen: it carried the personality, passions, ad hoc artwork, and individuality of the ones using it—including the preachers.

The hymnbook was, once upon a time, a small investigative game board for those even remotely curious about anything—who wrote this song? What do those semi-cryptic musical symbols mean? Can I guess this unfamiliar melody by attempting to sing the top notes? What other songs did this Gaither guy write in here? I didn't know Kris Kristopherson wrote "One Day At A Time."

There was also a day when churches would risk the Pale Horse of the Musical Apocalypse by calling on some obscure, plaid-coated roustabout to lead songs. And maybe that unmitigated rogue would peel forth with some equally-obscure, antiquated hymn—all on the chance that the musicians would know the chords and some bedrock church member would be able to start the congregation off from their pew. Somehow, it worked.

And somehow, no one died.

Today, songs are demurred from precisely because no one has managed to load it into the PowerPoint Database. “We don’t have it in the computer, so we can’t do it.” I’ve heard this at more than one church in recent years. I don’t in any way have to assail the technology to say that approach is sadly running with a wheel in the sand.

There was also the Samaritan Principle: The one where a church member would not only give their already-opened hymnal to a disoriented visitor, but also managed to engender a sense of belonging when they managed to share it with them. How many relationships were forged, simply by exchanging names and greeting while simultaneously holding the hymnal, singing “We Shall See The King?”

And how many potential souls will come—and go—all the while isolated during the worship by those around them, not because of social inequalities, or even bad manners but by the intangible “need for decency and order” that creates an automatic “mass focus” on the overhead?

Just a thought.

I happen to be Listening to: Jonny Lang, DecemberRadio

I happen to be reading: Mnemonica