It has been obvious for several years that a lot of people don’t understand what kind of Joker we have.
We don’t have Cesar Romero’s Joker, suave, sophisticated, with an air like he was a little better than everyone else in the room, and many days he was right.
We don’t have Jack’s Joker, a goofy, avuncular uncle who’s gone a little seedy but still retains his old panache.
No, we have Heath Ledger’s Joker, who claimed to be a better class of criminal and an agent of chaos and was only one of those things.
Some friends of mine engaged in a political conversation on the Twitter a couple of months ago. Two things were said in the course of the conversation that have stuck with me. (But not with the Twitter apparently; the conversation was gone when I went looking for it this morning.)
- “Vote for the policies, not the person.”
- “But you have to respect the office, it says so in the Bible.” (emphasis mine)
There are many issues with the first statement. We’ll start with the implication that you can separate the two, that a person, their character, is totally separate from their policies.
Today I learned (TIL for all the cool kids):
You can swap the lyrics of “Amazing Grace” and “Gilligan’s Island” into each others’ tunes and it works.
Go ahead, try unhearing that.
Today, we could talk about a global pandemic or racism or why a virus doesn’t care how you vote or why there’s a shortage of cold brew tea(!), but instead, let’s talk about the most pressing issue of the day.
More specifically, bad worship music.
Some of you think that’s redundant. Why do you think so? Because there’s a lot of it. Why do you suppose that is? To examine that, let’s re-visit a movie from the last year of the 80’s. The movie is set in the most unlikely of places, a poetry classroom at an all-boy’s school.
There I was, minding my own business, getting ready to do some exercising, when Chris Rice’s voice penetrated the fog that is my brain in the mornings.
Long ago in a galaxy far, far away, before the term “social distancing” had been invented, when people in masks robbed banks, when the year looked like a countdown instead of an eye chart, I wrote about our church’s twentieth anniversary, and specifically about the man who welcomed us when we started going there.