Great is the Lord and greatly to be praised;
God’s greatness is unsearchable.
One generation shall extol your works to another
and shall declare your mighty acts.
They will recount the glorious splendor of your majesty,
and on your wondrous works I will meditate.
They will proclaim the might of your awesome deeds,
and I will declare your greatness.
They shall celebrate the fame of your abundant goodness
and shall sing aloud of your righteousness.
(Psalm 145:3-7)
We are fairly sure that only a small percentage of readers can say anything at all about Bing Crosby. Maybe we remember him crooning White Christmas? Crosby (1903-1977) was an American singer and actor, and one of the first multimedia stars (think Prince, Lady Gaga, Beyonce, Donald Glover). He was a leader in record sales, network radio ratings, and motion picture grosses from 1926 to 1977. He was one of the first global cultural icons. Crosby made over 70 feature films and recorded more than 1,600 songs. And he is mostly a cultural footnote today.
There is a story about Crosby in the final years of his life. It was 1975. He had been invited to sing at a charity event, and the host enlisted some younger progressive jazz musicians to accompany the famous singer. The band members weren’t impressed by this aging star who had made his reputation way back in the 1920s. They decided to throw Crosby off his game.
When Bing showed up, he greeted them in his typical laidback manner and told them he would sing some familiar old songs. But when the performance started, these young jazz players threw in every arcane substitute chord change and rhythmic displacement they could think of, further spicing up their accompaniment with Coltrane modal fills and bits of polytonality.
Much to their frustration, nothing they did that evening disrupted Bing in the least. This old, balding pop singer navigated effortlessly through every one of their advanced harmonies, never faltering or showing the slightest degree of discomfort. Even more infuriatingly, Bing maintained the relaxed and unflappable delivery that was a Crosby trademark. As far as the audience could tell, he was just as happy-go-lucky as ever.
When the performance was done, the musicians expected to get chewed out by Crosby backstage. Instead, Bing shook their hands and thanked them with great warmth. He remarked how “cool it was to play with these young cats,” and expressed his sincere desire that they might do it again in the future.
What insight does this story hold for the work of your church board? Bing Crosby understood the precious value of an inter-generational encounter, and he wasn’t going to waste it. He knew that music thrives in the conversation between generations, with wisdom and innovation being passed up and down the age spectrum.
And if we think about it, we know that faith is like that, too.
There is shrinking space in our culture for generations to encounter one another meaningfully, and this fuels mutual suspicion—a disinclination to give and receive the gifts each can bring. Churches are no exception here. They have a well-established reputation for talking about older or younger generations, without talking to them. There can be effective youth groups, senior groups, parents’ groups, etc. But church is one of the very few places in our society where multiple generations get an opportunity to listen, share, and learn across ages. Wise church boards treasure this opportunity, even as they recognize its challenges.
In the following poem, another multi-media artist—the British poet, musician and performer Roger Robinson—takes us straight to the heart of those challenges in his own life, with poignant results.
Preaching
Under the billowing heat of the white
tarpaulin church tent, my mother lowered
her worshipping hands and leaned into me.
“You’re running away from your calling.
Your gift for words is meant for church
and not for that skeptical head of yours.”
The night air was thick with the scent
of Charlie perfume, earth, and sweat,
with a chorus of handheld fans fluttering.
My doubts doubled due to the shouting
pastor fleecing his flock for small bills
to shop for planes and limousines.
“Even broken men,” she said, “could channel
God’s will. Despite their flaws, in the midst
of their damage, a light can shine divine.”
But all my life I’d remain a questioning man,
choosing debate over faith, sparring
with mystery, claiming logic over belief.
But in the funeral parlor, the grief
of seeing the shell of my mother’s body
bereft of spirit brought death to my inner cynic,
with her words, my god, my god,
being stuck in my throat as I stood
there, her broken son, preaching.
What memories, if any, do you have of Bing Crosby? Does his response to the younger musicians surprise you at all?
How would you describe the inter-generational conversation in the poem “Preaching”? What is the mother trying to say? Why does the son end up preaching?
What does Psalm 145: 3-7 call upon us to do?
Can you, as a church board, think of some ways that your own congregation is living out that Psalm 145 calling?
Can you talk about some of the challenges that make it difficult?
What is one thing you could do to go toward those challenges this year?
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