Tag Archives: children’s choir

Clientele

Clientele: (n) the customers

Long ago in a universe that was far-out, but not far away, there existed a gathering of human souls called “church.”

Like every idea which is acted out by human beings, it was flawed from inception.

But at the root was a watering hole, where people could get together, rub up against each other, feel uncomfortable and blessed at the same
time, and walk out at the end of an hour inspired and also entertained because the children’s choir broke rank and failed to deliver the perfect performance that the young director from college had envisioned.

It was elegantly imperfect–which made it adorable.

The laughing was equal to the crying.

The “amens” were matched by groans of conviction.

It might have continued in that format as a great, uplifting experience had the accountants and the fanatics stayed away.

The church treasurers became very concerned that all bills be paid and money set aside for the carpet that would need to be purchased three years from now.

And then there were the fanatics–those who discovered that if they could get people to be afraid or nervous, they could stimulate attendance and keep people “fired up.”

Somewhere along the line, this organism called “the church” welcomed in nasty clientele.

These individuals were pious, knowing more about Bible verses than life, caring more about the vestibule than the hungry and homeless in the community, and were determined to maintain purity instead of welcoming the stained.

The innocent were targeted.

Races were rejected.

Preferences were labeled “abominable.”

The church became a repellent to anyone who wanted to find a location for a soul-stirring, emotional rejuvenation–a penitentiary full of guards with nobody willing to be prisoners.

Procedure became more important than salvation.

So the more humble folk, who knew they were sinners but prayed for God’s grace, gradually slipped out the front door, to never return again, leaving behind a quorum of quasi-religious critics.

Is it possible that the clientele could be changed and we could return to an assembly that was meant for humans instead of one that tries to gear its programming only to an Almighty God?

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Cheesy

Cheesy: (adj) cheap, unpleasant, or blatantly inauthentic.

Wow, did you read that definition?

I guess Webster was really loaded for bear against “cheesy.”

Blatantly inauthentic?? Well, that would mean that each one of us would actually know or be acquainted with what is authentic.

We are not.

Everybody has their own taste in “cheesy.” (Please forgive that offering.)

In other words, if you go to a fundraiser, fighting some disease, they will drag all sorts of pitiful people in front of you to tell their stories of debilitation to
establish the need for contributions. This is not considered cheesy because…well, I guess because it is trying to help sick people.

Traveling on the road, I see a myriad of local TV commercials which try way too hard to be entertaining while inserting inordinate amounts of information in a thirty-second capsule. I might consider them cheesy, but the people involved would just declare them a “sales strategy.”

Sometimes I go to church and they bring the children’s choir up to sing “Jesus Loves Me,” as the adults feel compelled to ooh and aah, or say “Amen,” or worst of all, stand for a cheesy ovation. But it’s not really–it’s our kids, after all.

But then something comes our way that we are not invested in, is not our livelihood, and did not come from our loins, and we suddenly turn into critics, calling it maudlin, silly or cheesy.

Everyone is fully aware that without reaching the human heart, it is unlikely that you will impact our race. And what touches our emotions is rarely deep or convoluted. No, it’s some sort of kitty-cat video, where the little pussy runs across the frame chasing a bit of string and suddenly runs into a wall.

We giggle, embarrassed, and then repent by whispering, “Be careful, little kitty…”

The human race is cheesy. We are moved by the simplest of sentiments and absolutely baffled by complex interpretations.

You can feel free to act aggravated or high-falutin’ when you see something that yanks on your feelings, trying to pull you in the direction of glee or tears.

But without these gentle reminders of goodness and wonder, we become animals, growling at each other across the rain forest.

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