by Garrison Keillor
I have made fun of Lutherans for years - who wouldn't, if you lived in
Minnesota ? But I have also sung with Lutherans, and that is one of the main
joys of life, along with hot baths and fresh sweet corn.
We make fun of Lutherans for their blandness, their excessive calm, their
fear of giving offense, their lack of speed and also for their secret
fondness for macaroni and cheese. But nobody sings like they do.
If you ask an audience in New York City, a relatively Lutheranless place, to
sing along on the chorus of 'Michael Row the Boat Ashore', they will look
daggers at you as if you had asked them to strip to their underwear. But if
you do this among Lutherans, they'll smile and row that boat ashore and up on
the beach! And down the road!
Lutherans are bred from childhood to sing in four-part harmony. It's a
talent that comes from sitting on the lap of someone singing alto or tenor
or bass and hearing the harmonic intervals by putting your little head
against that person's rib cage. It's natural for Lutherans to sing in
harmony. We're too modest to be soloists, too worldly to sing in unison. When
you're singing in the key of C and you slide into the A7th and D7th chords,
all two hundred of you, it's an emotionally fulfilling moment.
I once sang the bass line of Children of the Heavenly Father in a room with
about three thousand Lutherans in it; and when we finished, we all had
tears in our eyes, partly from the promise that God will not forsake us,
partly from the proximity of all those lovely voices. By our joining in
harmony, we somehow promise that we will not forsake each other.
I do believe this: These Lutherans are the sort of people you could call up
when you're in deep distress. If you're dying, they'll comfort you. If
you're lonely, they'll talk to you. And if you're hungry, they'll give you
tuna salad!
Provided by Pastor Bob
