September 2, 2009

Name that tune.
   I’ve heard that Steve Rice could.  Robin could.  And I nearly fell out of my chair.
   It all started in the 8:30 service when Michael R heard me conclude the sermon in an unusual way.  If you were in worship last Sunday, you may remember that the text for the day was from the Song of Songs, a widely ignored little book in the Hebrew Bible.  I concluded the sermon with two quotations, the first from one of my favorite Psalms, Psalm 34:8:  Taste and see that the Lord is good.  The second quotation was from someone I described as my favorite contemporary psalmist, The Boss, Bruce Springsteen.  From his classic, Badlands, the line I quoted was, it ain’t no sin to be glad you’re alive.  That’s when things got interesting.
   I preached again in the 11:00 service, sat down, and noticed Burton Joyner walking through the west alcove that leads to the choir loft.  Wonder where Burton’s going? I thought to myself.  Checked my bulletin, and his name wasn’t mentioned, so I put the thought aside and listened to Jan invite us to the table.
   We took communion, and then it happened.  Hank gave the invitation to offering, Michael R slipped off the organ bench, went to the piano, and he and Burton ripped into an unrehearsed rendition of Badlands.  Don’t know how many times I’ve been in worship with my Christian family, but I am confident that last Sunday was the very first time I have ever heard Bruce.
   A recent article described Badlands this way:  When Bruce Springsteen wrote “Badlands” more than 30 years ago, he said he was inspired by the “everyday kind of heroism” of family and friends he saw struggling to eke out a living in the decaying, blue-collar, north-central New Jersey neighborhoods where his father worked as a bus driver.  Today, in the wake of the financial meltdown, Springsteen’s badlands have a longer reach.  The middle-of-the-night fears the lyrics describe mirror the experiences of many of us now.  But “Badlands” is an anthem, not a dirge.  Its bitter observations are buoyed by ringing guitars. ... Hope, the song insists, is possible.  Change can come.
   Two observations.  First, many if not most of you had no idea what Michael and Burton were playing, but I watched faces smiling and bodies moving with the music.  Is a song about hope in the face of economic distress appropriate for an offertory in a service of worship, even though it does not mention the word God?  Of course it is.  There are at least two books of the Bible that do not contain the word either, and one of them provided the text for Sunday’s sermon.  Christians just can’t easily draw the line between what is sacred and what is not.
   Second, the offertory was a part of an incredibly rich musical offering of worship.  We sang some majestic, theologically rich hymns like Praise to the Lord, the Almighty.  Keith, Calesta and the choir rocked the house with He’s Never Failed Me Yet.  And then, Badlands.  To my mind, that kind of wonderful diversity in our music speaks of and to the many, many ways we speak of our experiences of God.  Thanks to Michael and Burton, who, I understand, is not even a Springsteen fan.  I will pray for his enlightenment.
   Remember Central, it ain’t no sin to be glad you’re alive.  And Sunday was just another reason that I am glad to be your pastor.