And this particular
listener was in his early-20s — just old enough to see with absolute
clarity through the skein of some 2000 years of received wisdom. A
perilous age, especially for men.
The
preacher was going on and on about this truck he'd seen in some
convention centre somewhere — this big truck, this monster
truck, shiny with chrome and powerful beyond all reasonable measure.
But it was in the showroom.
It wasn't there to do
anything, just sit there
and look impressive.
This truck looked like
it could move mountains.
But nobody bothered with even starting the engine.
And
was this not the perfect metaphor for the Church — even our
church — here, today? We look
so good, but when are we going to start the engine and demonstrate
what we can really do? When are we . . . .
Etc., etc.
The listener had
his hands clamped on the pew below him, to keep from standing up and
walking out — or worse. All that sap, running through such a green tree. He felt a sudden urge to spring up and ask, “Why? So we can have
more suburban churches?”
Suburban
churches — no, that wasn't quite what was bugging the listener.
“So we can keep killing art with our 'message'?”
Here we go, now we're cooking.
“Look at our bookshelves.”
Preach it!
“Look at the movies we make. Look at what we've done to rock 'n'roll. Are we to do that with every vibrant thing on this planet?”
“So we can keep killing art with our 'message'?”
Here we go, now we're cooking.
“Look at our bookshelves.”
Preach it!
“Look at the movies we make. Look at what we've done to rock 'n'roll. Are we to do that with every vibrant thing on this planet?”
Yeah, well. I
stayed seated and kept my mouth shut. Friends had dropped similar
neutron-bombs of indignation in their family churches, and it helped
to recall the unanticipated fallout zone of embarrassment that followed.
I asked myself
different questions. Like, “Why get so worked up? If people want to
shower and dress up for this sort of thing, why piss in their
punchbowl? Why not, instead, take the hint and stay home?”
So that's what I
did. Until I didn't — because every home is haunted . . .
Too long since some of that good 'churches' conversation. Frustrating that I can't sustain the inquiry I see myself into there very well right now.
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