May 20, 2012

3 reasons why music, more than sports, can predict a child’s spirituality.

One of the livelier kitchen table debates in our house is around team vs. individual.

In the real world (not the kitchen), of course, both are important — the team and the individual.

But in the spiritual world, it may be that sports teams have much less lasting influence than individual musical pursuits for children.

  1. The obvious Sunday problem.  A great part of the secularization and disappearance of the Sabbath in suburban culture is the scheduling of team sports on Sundays.  Nothing new here — we all know that.
  2. Musical practice re-wire the brain.  Now that’s something new.  Recent studies in brain science indicate that musical practice actually re-wires the brain.  In “Guitar Zero: The New Musician and the Science of Learning,” Gary Marcus writes: “Musical expertise is … ‘deliberate practice,’ a constant sense of self-evaluation, of focusing on one’s weaknesses rather than simply fooling around and playing to one’s strengths.”   The step from musical practice to spiritual practice, while apparent, isn’t guaranteed of course.  But it does create a predisposition.
  3. Music imprints a connection to a spiritual community.  Our early childhood experiences are lasting impressions. A child’s remembrance of Sunday can be of shagging flies in left field or singing in the choir.

This isn’t a case against sports.  I drove by Baker Field in West Roxbury the other night — where I played Little League as a kid.  And I could feel the ache of longing for those times playing under the lights on a Friday night, the grass so perfectly green, the bases so perfectly white, the infield so perfectly groomed.

 

This was on my way to the Green Briar in Brighton to play music.  If I tried to throw a ball from the outfield now, I’d end up in the hospital.  But music has never left.  It’s still the hotwire to God.

You should use the word “creepy” if …

There are people who have reservations about same-sex marriage.  It cannot be the case that all of them are hateful or closed-minded.

I think it is important to remember just how fast the progress on equality has been in this new century.  In 2004, when Massachusetts became the first state to legalize gay marriage, it was a breathtaking moment.  Bold and brave — and, in typical Massachusetts fashion, out there on a ledge, all alone.

Now, just eight years later, the President of the United States has endorsed same-sex marriage.  Since I’ve already used the word breathtaking, I can only say: startling.  Startling good;  yet startling nevertheless.

There will be people, people who’re not bigots but simply trying to make sense of a changing world, who aren’t on board yet.  It doesn’t mean they are homophobic;  they are trying to hold on to a world that is no more.

And then there are people who can’t claim this excuse.

Like the bishop of Rhode Island, Thomas Tobin.  On Wednesday, he called President Obama’s comments “creepy.”

An unfortunate turn of phrase, I would say.  If there is one group of people not entitled to use the word “creepy” in any context, it is Catholic prelates.  When you harbor pedophiles, cover up abuse and blame the victims, you forfeit your option to righteous indignation.  You are in the moral penalty box for however long it takes to earn back the moral suasion you once had.

That won’t be any time soon.  In the meantime, note to Bishop Tobin: creepy.

A few thoughts on the weekend.

I happened to notice as I was putting on my yellow tee-shirt Saturday morning the tag line:  “Serving God and Community since 1736.”  Like I’m most tag lines, it goes a little over-the-top.  But on Saturday, it was absolutely true.

Some top-of-mind images from Saturday:  Bob Randall, broken ankle and all, keeping the blood drive running; Sheila Lockwood coming back after the spill that took her to the hospital;  George Hazerjian and the clipboard that makes all things possible; the seven versions of Adele’s “Rolling in the Deep” that we now have on video.

Oh, and we sold the original church key for $2.00. Fortunately, we were able to buy it back!

Can’t remember who said this, but looking at the tents on the side lawn:  “Hmm.  Occupy Norwood.”

The rain was a no-show on Saturday;  not so for the Yellow Shirts.

Sermon on Sunday:  I couldn’t get the ending right.  (I hope you made some sense of it.)  Pastor Lisa and I are preaching without notes because it is more immediate, real, and — ideally —more effective.  Ironically, it actually takes more time to prepare a sermon for preaching without notes.  I’ll write about that at some point.

Sunday evening TV: on “Mad Men,” when Don Draper takes the Beatles’ Revolver album and puts it on the record player (I’ll explain what that is later, kids), and the real Beatles came on.  Startling.  In the New York Times today: first time the Beatles have ever licensed a song for a TV show.

And what better song title:  Tomorrow Never Knows.

The Windup. The Pitch.

 

 

 

 

I missed the first episode of “The Pitch,” AMC’s updating of Mad Men into a reality show.   But I caught the Waste Management (really, could they possibly serve up a better line?) pitch last night.

Ironically, I knew one of the people on the show.  Paul Cappelli, the Founder of The Ad Store, went to the same high school as I did.  I had lunch with him at the Hard Rock Cafe sometime in the early 90s.  We planned to do some work together, but never did.  My loss.  He seemed like the most human person on the show.

The other agency managed to fit into one room all the things about advertising that make my skin crawl.  They had the dance-on-my-mother’s-grave-to-get-the-account Creative Director, the sycophantic account person, the pompous agency head.

Advertising is Selling: no more, no less.  Is it creative?  Yes, it can be. But it is always creative in the same way that, say, robbing a bank can be creative.

The best campaign?  AMC, by a mile.  They sucked me into watching something I neither wanted or needed to see.

Now that’s advertising.

 

The Day after Easter.