Keep the Commandments.
Ke-ep the Commandments.
In this, there is safety and peace.
It struck me this morning as my father and his wife bustled about their bedroom getting ready for church and I bustled about getting ready for… meeting my brother, sister and mother for brunch, the stark contrasts in my life regarding what is now and what was, then.
The Sounds of the Sabbath (or Soft Sunday Sounds… still don’t know which one they listen to) is filling the air as is par for the course on Sunday. For the most part, I enjoy the music. This particular station tends to not overdo the MoTab and such. However, as I have mentioned before, the songs all sound eerily similar, as though there is a specific tone and voice required to sing songs for The Church. Oh… wait… there is. Music must be sung with reverence. NO drums or trumpets or electric guitars in The Church. Ever. Hence the reason children raised in The Church are steered more toward the piano or the violin or flute. Those are acceptable for church recitals.
Ehem…. Did you hear the soapbox tumble over?
At any rate, the music is filtering through the atmosphere and it wafts down the hall to where I am making the bed. It is a song I know from childhood, a simple song that has very few lyrics. I catch myself singing along, which I do often because it is as though these songs are part of my DNA now. These songs are good songs with good messages, all of them. These songs are created to train up the child in the ways of The Church, the right and truest way. These songs, in many homes, are the first sound a newborn infant hears.
It is taught that, in times of temptation, or even fear, one is to have a favorite hymn available to sing through the moment. The singing of this hymn will turn the situation around. One will no longer be tempted. One will no longer be afraid.
Bullshit.
Oh! Can I say that on Sunday? Ack. Sorry.
Bologna.
So, I tried that tactic many times in my youth. It didn’t stop me from putting my hands down that boy’s pants. Nor did it stop my fears. All it did was add nice background harmony to the situation and then I felt less than because the hymn magic didn’t work for me. What is wrong with me? I am supposed to be able to sing myself out of this feeling.
So, as I made my bed listening to my cells singing the song…
Keep the Commandments.
Ke-ep the Commandments.
In this, there is safety and peace.
I wondered… really?
Is there really safety and peace in keeping the commandments? I know that there is less…well… conflict if you just do what you are told. And, I imagine if one were to always keep the commandments there would be less self-inflicted peril. However, keeping the commandments does not guarantee that some random act of violence will break through your barriers of song-built protection. Nor does it guarantee that wars will end and there will be peace.
I imagine, though, if everyone believed in the Bible and everyone kept every one of those commandments that there would be safety and peace. There would be no other option because those commandments are set down for that very reason – humanity’s safety and peace.
So there is a vaguely possible point to the song. What boiled my blood this morning was the ever-present, mind-numbing, feeling-dumbing preaching which taught me that I am not my own authority, that everything I need is outside of me, that my rescuing will come from somewhere out there or in the next life or from my knight in shining garments that will ride forth on grand steed and sweep me up for eternity into safety and peace.
I feel sad that the promise of safety and peace which is sung forth in childlike innocence and belief is a promise that can’t always come true. And that singing that song – or any of the songs that are part of fibers now – does not actually guarantee, although they teach that it will, that I will be a good girl.
In this there is safety and peace?
