My favorite hymn is "In the Garden." It was played at my grandfather's funeral. I sang it at my father's funeral. And, I'll be singing it at my mother's too.
If you're taking requests, ST, a rendition of Pass Me Not O Gentle Savior, landing somewhere between Garrison Keillor's version and the one known as Do Not Pass Me By would be fine by me.
The thing is, the book is totally screwed up. They'd go, "Turn to hymn #182 on page 247. Verses 1, 3, 4 6, and 9 or summat.
¿
So I pull out the book, and start flipping through furiously trying trying trying to find the song and the whole place is already singing it and I'm still flipping pages numbered poorly and incompletely. Apparently the whole congregation knows all the words already. Apparently everybody is genius at singing hymns because nobody misses a beat, apparently everyone can follow the insane instructions from directions that are whacked in a book completely illogically organized. Except me. I'm the only one left out.
It was a very isolating experience that left an enduring emotional psychological scar.
Sometimes I did manage to find the song people are singing. A few times I actually did locate the line they are on. I start singing along and they skip to another verse or repeat one already sung or off to something else entirely. I was always always ALWAYS lost.
I just gave up.
I'd move my lips and pretend I'm singing.
Then come to find out I don't even know what they're talking about. Decades go by before I understand the song is not:
Bringing in the sheeps Bringing in the sheeps. We all start reJoIcing, bringing in the sheeps.
What are sheathes anyway? That doesn't even make sense.
I saw the word sheathes on a condom machine in a gas station rest room. What's the word doing in a church hymnal?
Every ritual thing about church seemed positively straight from the Mithraic mystery cults. Church is not for me. I always knew intuitively my silly ass did not belong there. All that getting shined up for nothing.
Even the Lord's prayer didn't make sense.
Our father who art in heaven hallowed be thy name thy will be done on Earth as it is in heaven.
Thy what will be done? The sentence seems to be missing a noun. And what does hallowed mean? Isn't there a clearer way to express whatever it is being expressed here so a kid with minimal language skills in Old English can understand it? Is there a kid version of this?
I never understood what was going on.
James told me he peeked through the door and saw his son singing to himself. "Jesus loves me, yes I know" and time stopped.
When I was James' son's age I learned that same song in the basement of the church in Coply Pennsylvania where they shunted all the kids for indoctrination during babysitting. I asked the babysitting church lady how do they know Jesus loves me.
" 'Cause the Bible tell us so." Silly boy.
"It's a book. You believe everything you read?"
I was agnostic at five. She told my parents on me.
Five is not too young to learn that church may not be the best place for questions, even though asking, seeking and knocking is touted in the red words.
That said, it's one of the few places where I was able to join in singing and enjoy four part harmony.
That lonesome valley is situated somewhere between Mt. Mordor, where Sauron lives, and Mt. Sinai, where Moses received those heavy stone tablets inscribed with what are now known as "The Ten Really Good Suggestions!"
17 comments:
One of their last big hits.
My mother liked it so much, she got the album, presumably for my sister's birthday.
PS I think that's one of the songs they did with Glen Campbell as one of the studio musicians.
Well, truth be known, I was thinking of this.
Lauren Bacall passed away?
I read a tweet just now.
Yep, and Abe Vigoda is getting nervous.
The smart money is on Kirk Douglas.
One of my favorite hymns.
I'm going to be doing an album of hymns.
My favorite hymn is "In the Garden." It was played at my grandfather's funeral. I sang it at my father's funeral. And, I'll be singing it at my mother's too.
Leave Abe Vigoda out of this.
If you're taking requests, ST, a rendition of Pass Me Not O Gentle Savior, landing somewhere between Garrison Keillor's version and the one known as Do Not Pass Me By would be fine by me.
Hymns in church bugged me.
I could never follow. Never. Not once.
On account of being a complete bumbling dunce.
The thing is, the book is totally screwed up. They'd go, "Turn to hymn #182 on page 247. Verses 1, 3, 4 6, and 9 or summat.
¿
So I pull out the book, and start flipping through furiously trying trying trying to find the song and the whole place is already singing it and I'm still flipping pages numbered poorly and incompletely. Apparently the whole congregation knows all the words already. Apparently everybody is genius at singing hymns because nobody misses a beat, apparently everyone can follow the insane instructions from directions that are whacked in a book completely illogically organized. Except me. I'm the only one left out.
It was a very isolating experience that left an enduring emotional psychological scar.
Sometimes I did manage to find the song people are singing. A few times I actually did locate the line they are on. I start singing along and they skip to another verse or repeat one already sung or off to something else entirely. I was always always ALWAYS lost.
I just gave up.
I'd move my lips and pretend I'm singing.
Then come to find out I don't even know what they're talking about. Decades go by before I understand the song is not:
Bringing in the sheeps
Bringing in the sheeps.
We all start reJoIcing, bringing in the sheeps.
What are sheathes anyway? That doesn't even make sense.
I saw the word sheathes on a condom machine in a gas station rest room. What's the word doing in a church hymnal?
Every ritual thing about church seemed positively straight from the Mithraic mystery cults. Church is not for me. I always knew intuitively my silly ass did not belong there. All that getting shined up for nothing.
Even the Lord's prayer didn't make sense.
Our father who art in heaven hallowed be thy name thy will be done on Earth as it is in heaven.
Thy what will be done? The sentence seems to be missing a noun. And what does hallowed mean? Isn't there a clearer way to express whatever it is being expressed here so a kid with minimal language skills in Old English can understand it? Is there a kid version of this?
I never understood what was going on.
James told me he peeked through the door and saw his son singing to himself. "Jesus loves me, yes I know" and time stopped.
When I was James' son's age I learned that same song in the basement of the church in Coply Pennsylvania where they shunted all the kids for indoctrination during babysitting. I asked the babysitting church lady how do they know Jesus loves me.
" 'Cause the Bible tell us so." Silly boy.
"It's a book. You believe everything you read?"
I was agnostic at five. She told my parents on me.
Five is not too young to learn that church may not be the best place for questions, even though asking, seeking and knocking is touted in the red words.
That said, it's one of the few places where I was able to join in singing and enjoy four part harmony.
@MamaM,
Thanks for the suggestions!
I'll look into those hymns.
The lonesome valley is the same valley as the valley of the shadow of death?
(Whatever the hell that is.)
Did I guess right?
Help me out here, people, and you're not allowed to say the lonesome valley is whatever you think it is.
That's a cop-out.
That lonesome valley is situated somewhere between Mt. Mordor, where Sauron lives, and Mt. Sinai, where Moses received those heavy stone tablets inscribed with what are now known as "The Ten Really Good Suggestions!"
not allowed to say the lonesome valley is whatever you think it is
If you got to walk it by yourself, who's making the rules?
While the river of life may begin as a mountaintop experience, it ends up running through the valley, winding in and out of the low places.
The Reverend Mr. Black said the same thing
Except that he didn't. Sixty conjugated the verb in the plural; the Reverend Mr. Black used the singular. The difference is significant.
Conjugated! Hell, I done paved over the valley and put up a highway, so never mind about no conjugatin'!
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