A while back, I mentioned a certain performance artist who's carving out his own unique career on the streets of Atlanta. Since then, several people have spoken to my person to say that they, too, have seen the mysterious cross-dresser known as Baton Bob. Needless to say, I had no idea the caliber of celebrity I was dealing with.
Here is a hero with conviction, political consciousness, and a fashion sense that can only be described as "fabulous". He's even got his own yahoogroup. One might even say Bob marches to the beat of his own drummer.
It's easy to make fun of a middle-aged black man in a pink leotard, but when Bob is gone, who will pick up his baton and carry on? I'm putting money on Flagboy.
If you are willing to put aside certain things--things like class attendance, sleep, and personal hygiene--it is possible to research and write a 15-page historical research paper in less than 20 hours. You just have to annotate loosely and recognize that the line between plagiarism and paraphrasing is finer than a 17th century air for lute.
Also, you have to be willing to accept certain typographical errors that occur because you have typed too fast, or just have Seinfeld on the brain:
"In the 16th century, the lute was the favored instrument among European aristocrats. The lone exception was in Spain, where the instrument did not really catch on because it was still associated with the harsh and unpopular rule of the Moops. Spaniards avoided the lute, but performing the complex polyphonic music of the time on a four-string guitar was unrealistic. The Spanish solution was to develop an instrument called the vihuela, which had 6 courses of strings, double-strung in unisons or octaves. The top string was a lone “chanter” so the tuning was similar to that of a lute: G-c-f-a-d-g. Some later incarnations bore additional strings. The primary distinction between the vihuela and the guitar was range, and since the vihuela was capable of more it was thought to be a more sophisticated and refined instrument."
Today we finished up our unit on African music with a discussion of the forms unique to the African-American tradition: negro spirituals and gospel. These are typically considered sacred music, though the point was made that in the African-American arts, sacred and secular are not as distinct as we anglos like to imagine. For whatever reason, our prof has apparently opted not to mention the 'secular' African-American forms, like jazz, r&b and rap.
This has all been very interesting. As a presbyterian church musician, I can't imagine two more divergent worship expressions than negro spirituals and high-church hymnody. One is rhythmic, the other melodic. One is repetitive, the other structurally complex. One moves in call and response, the other in harmonic progression. One is aurally transmitted, the other transcribed. But today I’m thinking about the textual differences.
We presbyterians like to talk about the theological richness of the classic hymn texts, as opposed to the banal superficiality of modern popular worship songs. We talk about the praise choruses like we do Saturday morning cartoons: we liked them in our youth but soon grew out of them and graduated to McNeil-Lehrer.
You can't talk about spirituals that way. For starters, you'd come off as terribly culturally insensitive. But it's true that spirituals are not known for the great theological depths of their lyrical content. In fact, some say very little at all about God, or Jesus or so-called "good theology".
This little light of mine
I'm going to let it shine
Oh, this little light of mine
I'm going to let it shine
Hallelujah
This little light of mine
I'm going to let it shine
Let it shine, let it shine, let it shine
The main theological idea here seems to be, uh, "letting it shine". Contrast this with a selection from that well-known white guy, Martin Luther (not to be confused with the well-known black guy with the same names):
Did we in our own strength confide, our striving would be losing;
Were not the right Man on our side, the Man of God’s own choosing:
Dost ask who that may be? Christ Jesus, it is He;
Lord Sabaoth, His Name, from age to age the same,
And He must win the battle.
Let's see...here we've got God's sovereignty, immutability, and Hebrew names, plus a little of the supremacy of Christ tacked on to the end. And Marty still made it rhyme. My informal presbyterian training tells me the latter example is more beneficial to me as a christian, and probably is more worshipful because it contains more "truth". But let's be honest; when I hear "Swing Low, Sweet Chariot", simple as it is, and it's sung by tongues in need of hope, it moves me in ways that Mr. Luther's poetic treatment of sovereignty cannot. And I think this is priceless. Whatever my cultural associations might be that render me so susceptible to those songs, this movement must be the essence of worship--or at least near to it.
Which is why I want to direct some comments to those in my denomination who we'll call "angry reformed persons". These are the church members who enjoy being known as theology police. They take it upon themselves to scrutinize Sunday morning worship and look for bad lyrics. Specifically, they watch for a) words that possess any kind of connotation that can be associated with questionable theology, including "holiness", "spirit", "tongues" and "choose"; and b) any words that are theologically vague, which includes all metaphors and colorful language. To these people, I say: calm down and have a Luther-approved cold one.
Words are wonderful things, but their meanings are purely ascribed by us. So let's not be so rigid that we must avoid all poetry and thought-provoking language because it doesn't match your nazi--er anglo theological dictionary. You don't even read Greek, for crying out loud.
The strangest thing about this whole dichotomy is that I can't decide which expression I prefer. I can’t explain why, and it has nothing to do with my ability. But were I to be stranded on a deserted island for the rest of my days and could only take along one catalog, I'd be paralyzed. For now I'll ride the fence. Not that we ever do any negro spirituals at SPP, but I'll say it now for the record:
When my chariot comes I want both "Precious Lord, Take my Hand" and "Be Still My Soul" played in the funeral. There can be no more beautiful send-off than this.
We keep hearing reports about the growing popularity and proliferation of blogs. This would seem to be vindication: the former King of Cambodia, Norodom Sihanouk, has a blog. Have a look for yourself. It's real and full of legitimate content and apparently he does it all himself. You can read his correspondence with everyone from heads of state to housewives from Canada, or selections from his book, My War with the CIA.
Apparently, he's something of a renaissance man, as there are sound and movie clips of him performing his own original compositions, backed by what must be the Royal Cambodian Wedding Band. Try "Star of Love". Should you desire to add this to your repertoire, you can get the music and lyrics (in English, French, and Khmer!) here.
Interestingly, during the conducting midterm, a couple of the female students were instructed to be less expressive. Normally, novice conductors need to work to shed inhibition, but these girls were telegraphing their panic and frustration to the ensemble. This, we learned, is a no-no. A conductor should communicate calm, unless the passage calls for a sense of panic, but even then it's more of a calm administration of panic. The prof's advice for us: if you begin to panic, as the leader of the ensemble you must conceal it. Then, for the non-english speaking students, he launched into an explanation of what it means to have a "poker face".
This is not a statement about women's fitness for leadership. But I did realize that, for all my loathing of my own emotional opacity, my personal poker face served me well for once. In relationships, this stoicism can be a curse, but perhaps it could be a benefit in directing an ensemble. During my turn, I was literally shaking, but apparently I hid it well enough. Surely you can imagine other leaders who are required to convey certain things that are not necessarily a true reflection of their own inner dialogue. Platoon leaders and quarterbacks come to mind.
But I can't help but feel like it's a double standard. Why is it wrong for me to lie to my friend about how I feel but it's ok to lie to my choir? Incidentally or not, most of the best choir directors I've known have had a manipulative streak in them. Not only do they know how to squeeze the best sound out of their group, but they also know how to lay on a good guilt trip. Sure, they might fudge the truth to make a point, but we all learn more and perform better after it's been made. So what's wrong with this? Doesn't the end justify the means? Does the director have an unspoken right to use whatever means necessary to make us better? Or by going along, haven't we have given them an unspoken green light to do so?
My romantic view of christian living has been based on the principled honesty of truth-tellers like Jesus and Paul and heart-on-sleeve songwriters like Bill Mallonee and Jeremy Post. As a result, I've come to revere a kind of unflinching transparency that constantly keeps all cards on the table and the other cheek turned and braced for any backlash. This kind of honesty does not ask questions like, "will this make them behave better?". Nor does it consider consequences.
Fair or not, this is my ideal of christian honesty. Honestly (pun intended) I have a hard time squaring it with the kind of selective truths that you offer up when you want people to do something. One example is the Great American Sports Cliche. I like to make fun of them, despite their power to motivate, because they carry so little truth. I mean, come on. If you really gave 110%, you'd be dead. But this might also be why I'm not a successful coach. On a personal note, I can recall one particular director making us feel like dirt for our lack of effort. Was it an act? Probably. Did it make us shape up? You bet. I wonder if teachers experience this sort of dilemma, when it seems that what they need to hear is not necessarily the truth. Also, we don't mind offering comfort by telling them that "everything is going to be ok" when in fact it is not, at least not in the way that they want it to.
Don't misunderstand; I'm not too principled to tell a lie. In fact, if I know it can't be verified, I'm quite good at it. But I sometimes have a hard time saying things I don't mean. Nice meeting you. Let's get together sometime. Maybe there is some answer for me in the phrase in love. Not in terms of being in it, but as a context for truth. But I don't think the scriptures mean for us to keep truth and love in balance, as if they are in contest with one another. Or are they?