This is a letter to my mother in response to news that her church choir director was forced out of the church because of his "overuse" of classical and liturgical choir arrangements and worship services.



Mother,

It upsets me to hear about the current situation at CBC. Of course it is a tremendous spiritual loss to the community if the ministry does not
continue to strive for value and content in the face of cultural adversity. If the church falls into sensational emotivism to appease the crowd and increase attendance numbers, the spiritual quality will begin mimicking the suburban stucco architecture surrounding the area. If people want to be mundane and thoughtless and the church fosters that desire, well then, the church itself is contributing to the decline of real spiritual values in the community.


This decline I'm sure will exhibit itself in real and tangible negative qualities in the community. This is a very real problem and one that may encourage both you and Dad to think of leaving in spite of the value of the Missions committee, which itself could be tremendously harmed by a shift in spirituality such as this.


I would remind Dad that, unlike in the Third World where spiritual dangers are more tangible, in our culture, where the real challenges to spirituality lie in the dangers of monotony, corporate influence, and subconsciously instilled amoral values, worship quality is of the highest order of importance. The dangers in our communities lie in the more subtle evil of self-apathy--we care less and less about the ultimate value and significance of our own lives. The products of our communities prove it.
Television, radio, movies, architecture, food products, art, and journalism all contribute to the same monotonous, ungodly, and apathetic homogeneity which the church now wants to embrace as its primary mode of worship! I wish I could say that I'm preaching to the choir, but it seems that there may no longer be a choir to which I can preach!

On another note, I was tickled by your descriptions of the children in the
mobile home. Rubber gloves down the toilet . . . why not?

I love you and hope to speak with you soon,
Barak