Tacky Hymns 112

Good wee hours of the morning! Apropos, this installment picks up with the "Morning" section in the hymnal supplement All Creation Sings.

992 is "Now that the daylight fills the sky," a J.M. Neale translation of a medieval Latin hymn, set to the tune LAUREL by Dale Wood (†2003), exactly as in the Lutheran Service Book (LSB). Which, interestingly, features a canon at the octave between the melody and the tenor line, at a time delay of 2 beats. If the last note of the tune wasn't held for five beats, you could even sing it as a round. 0 tacks.

993 is "God is here today" by Javier Gracias (b. 1956), both in the original Spanish and C. Michael Hawn's (b. 1948) English translation, to its own tune also by Gracias, accompaniment omitted. Its single stanza consists of the first line, already mentioned, and three "as certain as" clauses. It's not exactly dripping with edifying richness. At its extremely brief length, and saying as little as it does, it's hard to see where this has any use in the divine service. For that and other obvious reasons (I mean, just read backward in this thread), 3 tacks.

994 is "The night you gave us, God, has ended" by Wayne L. Wold (b. 1954) set to ST. CLEMENT by Clement C. Scholefield (†1904) – the same church-carillon tune to which one hears John Ellerton's "The day Thou gavest, Lord, is ended" in LSB. Actually Evangelical Lutheran Worship (ELW) also has Ellerton's evening hymn set to the same tune as well, only with the Thees and Thous "alt."-ed out of it as though Ellerton's (†1883) choice of Jacobean language wasn't a conscious decision on his part. The editors of this book, with the editors of ELW, apparently follow that same double standard that allows Thous by nearly-contemporary authors to stand while tampering with the poets of a previous century who, likewise, understood yous but didn't choose to use them. But enough about ELW. Here's a Boomer "original" that flips Ellerton's evening-hymn concept around to the morning. And I would be hypocritical to, ha ha, tax it for doing pretty much what I did with the Dies irae and the Stabat mater. So, 0 tacks.

As the "Evening" section kicks in, 995 is "Come, be among us, O Jesus" by Anonymous, set to his or her own tune without accompaniment, both in Spanish and in Greg Scheer's (b. 1966) translation. There seems to be a little to it, in comparison with, say, 993, but when you step back, some of that is "fast falls the eventide" (which we've heard before, in a longer, deeper and richer hymn) and about one-third of it is repetition. And there isn't that much to repeat, after all. One stanza that says the same thing two or three different ways, in not altogether original terms, and repeat, repeat, repeat. 3 tacks.

996 is "Watch, O Lord" by Marty Haugen (b. 1950), purportedly based on a prayer by St. Augustine, to Haugen's own tune without accompaniment. It's a bit like one of Haugen's all-but-patented psalm or canticle settings, with lines of chant alternating with a refrain; but instead of a regular chant tone, it has a dialogue between "Leader" and "All" where the response is varied every third time (from "in your love, Lord" to "in your love, O Lord of all") to set up the next refrain. I actually understand how this would be used in worship, but you know what? It's liturgy, not hymnody. 2 tacks.

997 is "Behold, unveiled the vesper skies" by Susan Palo Cherwien (again, read backward in this thread), set to David Cherwien's (b. 1957) VESPER SKIES, without accompaniment. Interesting use of "vesper" as an adjective, there. The poetic language of this hymn is impressive, but I'm confused by its liturgical lingo. After so evocatively setting the scene for an evening prayer office ("Vespers," don't cha know), all of a sudden in stanza 3 it starts talking about the Lord's Supper, which is quite another thing. The grammar stumbles here as well, with a verb form ("beckons") that doesn't fit the sentence structure; and what it says "the table Christ has spread" beckons us to is just "breaking of the bread," a completely inadequate description of the sacrment. I think S.P.C. should have put it through another draft. 2 tacks.

998 is "In silence we wait" by Susan Masters (b. 1957), words and music, without accompaniment. It's just three phrases, the other two (spoiler!) being "in darkness you come to us; bring us your light." No repeats or anything. It's literally two staves of melody squeezed at the bottom of the page, which quite possibly is the whole purpose for it being there, its usefulness as a hymn in actual worship being so slight. 2 tacks.

999 is "Your canopy of vigil lights" by Susan R. Briehl (cf. 958), set to Haugen's tune CANOPY. The first line is a reference to the stars in the night sky, you know. Stanza 1 moves swiftly from creation to the redemptive significance of Christ's incarnation ("binding us to your dear Son, renewed our life, destroyed our death"), so a pleasant surprise so far. Stanza 2 again hints at an evening celebration of the Lord's Supper, inviting Christ to stay with us at the close of day, "our unknown guest, our host and feast." This stanza's "evening meal" language again leaves me wondering whether Vespers is even a thing in the ELCA. Not that I'm complaining if it means having the sacrament at every opportunity, including (for example) an Easter Vigil, an Epiphany or Ascension day service (which almost must be at night), etc. Then stanza 3 starts talking about it being the sabbath night (even pitching in a "shalom"), which either confirms that this is an Easter Vigil hymn or suggests a messianic Jewish context. I'm aswim in speculation. For omitting the accompaniment, 1 tack.

It's a brief entry, sure, but we got through two sections of hymns and the hours are still wee, albeit less so than when I began. So, it's back to bed with me now. We've put on another 13 tacks, bringing the running total to 182 in 99 hymns, which is actually about 184 percent. Now down with you, canopy of night!

Wonka

Last night, I went to a preview screening of Wonka, evidently a prequel to the classic Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory (that's the one with Gene Wilder, as opposed to Charlie and the Chocolate Factory with Johnny Depp in the Wonka role). It's got musical cues in common with the earlier flick, anyway. It features Timothée Chalamet as a young Willy Wonka, just setting out on his magical, candy-making career in a city where the chocolate industry is tightly held in the grip of three evil, colluding competitors – Slugworth (Paterson Joseph, late of Law & Order UK), whose handshake is crushing; Prodnose (Matt Lucas, on record as the most annoying Doctor Who companion ever), who is always over-explaining; and Fickelgruber (Matthew Baynton of You, Me and the Apocalypse), who pukes inside his mouth everytime someone says the word "poor." These candy magnates water down their chocolate, hoarding the precious stuff in a vault under the cathedral, with the connivance of a chocoholic bishop played by Rowan Atkinson (a.k.a. Mr. Bean). Together with a corrupt police chief (an ever-expanding Keegan-Michael Key) they conspire to run young Wonka off.

Aiding in their enterprise are a laundress/landlady who tricks unsuspecting guests into owing her massive amounts of money, then forces them to work off their debt; she's played by Olivia Colman. You'll also see Jim Carter as one of the other captives, Sally Hawkins (mainly in flashbacks) as Willy's mum, and a young Calah Lane in a lead role as the girl who helps Willy restore his fortunes. And of course, Hugh Grant as the Oompa-Loompa, appearing only from about the midpoint of the movie onward, whom Wonka describes as his nemesis.

I think it's a fun movie, with a big vision full of magic, sweetness and wonder all pitched in conflict against greed, corruption and the way the world generally runs. It prominently features a giraffe and a flock of flamingoes, marvelous inventions, spiffy candy ingredients, and a candy shop that (for just a few moments, and on a smaller scale) brings to life the Wonka factory we remember from that old Gene Wilder movie. It has a couple of comical romances (one of them just a bit icky), some daft plots that tend to go wrong in just the right way, and one nightmarish bit where the heroes nearly drown in a vat of chocolate (what a way to go). It's a sometimes dreamlike movie that touches quite a few different emotions, most often laughter, and if its imagery makes your mouth water like it did mine, movie theater concession stands will do well when it's in wide distribution.

As for the performances ... well, I got a kick out of the villains. My heart went out to Wonka's oppressed friends. I felt Rowan A. was a bit underutilized, but I suppose he is a strong enough flavor that too much of him could be bad thing. In the Oompa-Loompa role, I found Hugh Grant adequate but I wasn't entirely sold on the special effects that translated him into a tiny orange and green guy. In the Wonka role, I'd rank Chalamet above Depp but still lower than Wilder – but I could kinda buy into the idea of him growing to be Wilder later on.

I'm a huge fan of the original Wilder adaptation and of Roald Dahl's original book, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. I was excited enough about the idea of this movie that I had to see it despite knowing that it was unlikely to be an improvement on the oldest and best version of the story. And also, despite the fact that I'm out of temper with Chalamet, partly due to his career niche as Main Character in a Franchise Reboot Nobody Asked for – cf. Denis Villeneuve's bloated remake of Dune, which I refuse to see because the Kyle MacLachlan version does not need to be replaced. But saw this movie I did; this movie I saw; and while I'm not exactly raving about it, I came away very satisfied with my evening's entertainment.

Three Scenes That Made It For Me: (1) When the giraffe rampages through the cathedral. Rowan Atkinson is a treasure. (2) Wonka's shop opens – and closes – in one visually brilliant day. (3) The villainous musical number where the three candy magnates try to bribe the police chief to arrange a "little accident" (in which he dies) for young Wonka. Hilarious, evil and catchy all at once.

The only thing I'd definitely change about the movie is the Oompa-Loompa. Sorry, that didn't work. But it's really a small part of the film, surprisingly small in fact, given the amount of publicity Hugh Grant's involvement has gotten. His general appearance is all right, but something about the way his character moves triggers that gosh-darned Uncanny Valley. And his acting wasn't really on point for the role, either. So there's my criticism. Like it or lump it, don't forget to have something sweet when you watch this movie.

502. Lo, what love

This is the hymn of which I was speaking when I referred to one grasping at heel of "Look to Jesus." It takes its departure from John 3:1 ff. with a few other scriptural references, to round out the Trinitarian concept. It's a lot like this hymn, initially, but it veers off at a different angle. Again, I don't have a particular tune in mind. It's amazing how often this is the case when I write a hymn, despite my musical proclivities. I'll give that more thought later on, but for now:

Lo, what love the Father shows us,
Gifting us His children's name!
If the world denies it knows us,
Well! It treated Christ the same.
Past is all that we have been;
What we'll be, still to be seen;
But in Christ so much is sure:
We shall see Him, bright and pure.

Lo, what mind was in Christ Jesus,
Dredging for us in the deep!
His death from sin's cesspit frees us;
His life, from eternal sleep.
Shielding us from Satan's lies,
He prepares for us a prize,
Even now our cause expounds
Till His call, "Arise!" resounds.

Lo, what life the Spirit gives us,
Changing hearts of stone to flesh!
Thus the Breath of God revives us,
Who the water stirs afresh:
Hov'ring on the holy bath,
He delivers us from wrath,
Causing once-dead limbs to move
In the footprints of God's love.

Holy, holy, holy, cry we,
Hearts aflame with loving fear!
Age to age with spirits high, we
Call on Him Whom we revere.
He who served in depths of pain
Sits enthroned on high to reign,
Where at last all knees shall bow
And His holy name avow.

501. Look to Jesus

This is the first new hymn that I've written since I pulled the trigger on Bountiful Hymns. I'm frankly intimated by the thought of even starting to plan a fourth book of original hymns, which may be why I've dragged my feet, but the idea for this hymn has been nagging at me until I couldn't stand it any more. And meanwhile, another idea has started to push from behind it, making it doubly imperative that I write this. So, here goes. I don't have a tune in mind at present.

Would you see the love of God?
Look to Jesus:
Sole begotten Son eternal
With the Father's substance one,
He stooped from His throne supernal
All God's justice to see done.
As He bears the Father's rod,
We behold the love of God.

Would you find a gracious God?
Look to Jesus!
Who among that uncouth dozen,
Finding His pure teachings hard,
Were by might or wisdom chosen
Or stood out in men's regard?
You, too, not by flesh and blood,
Live but by the grace of God.

Would you do the works of God?
Look to Jesus:
Seizing neither arms nor nation,
Tending to the sick and poor,
He blessed those of lowly station,
Bidding them to sin no more.
Wash! Believe the tidings good!
Thus God works the works of God.

Would you share the life of God?
Look to Jesus:
Who, once struck for our transgression,
Lay but briefly in the grave,
Us, His own blood-bought possession,
Rising mightily to save.
Take His body and His blood;
Taste and share the life of God.

Tacky Hymns 111

That's not a Roman Numeral up there. Wow, has this thread endured. And for the last little bit of it, we've been looking at the hymnal supplement All Creation Sings, whereof we resume with the "Sending" (i.e., close of worship) section.

983 is "Now the meal is over" by Paul Andress (b. 1956), words and music. It's notated without accompaniment as a three-part round, with different lyrics to each line. The first line sends you out with peace. The second, calls you to "go forward with strength and courage ... to heal a broken world." And the third states that when you leave the table, "fed and nourished, love will be our lasting call." So, OK, some exhortation isn't out of order, but healing a broken world is a big ask and I think it would be sufficient to exhort the "fed and nourished" to live out their vocation in love, and leave the establishment of millennial utopias to Someone higher up on the pay scale. Also, who's actually going to sing this? Has someone tested the feasibility of leading the parishioners at Shepherd of the Cornfield in a three-part round? Just asking. 2 tacks.

984 is "May the God of hope go with us" by Alvin Schutmaat (†1988), "alt." The tune, given without accompaniment, is of Argentine folk origin. It has some pop-musicky rhythms at the ends of its phrases and, perhaps only in my imagination, a certain ring of propaganda jingle. And also a line of Spanish lyrics above the English that prompts me, once again, to observe that this isn't actually a Spanish-language hymnal. Once again everybody is being sent out to to bring good news to the world, working for peace, etc. – which is all right, I suppose, for people whose vocation that is, but let's not mix them up with everybody. Most people had best be sent home from worship with the simple exhortation to live in accord with the grace and peace they have received, so far as their station in life is concerned. "Working for a world that's new" is a ridiculously big ask for people of whom, most likely, it is more than enough to hope that they'll try to live a life that's new. 3 tacks.

985 is "Let us enter in" (to the song) is by Ray Makeever (cf. 945, 955), words and music, accompaniment omitted. Its three stanzas, again, give strong exhortation to those departing from worship – ironically, in terms of "entering in" to the work outside the house of worship. Understood within each Christian's vocation, it would be all right. But can it be understood that way? How are we entering into "the heart of a world that is broken"? Why is this hymn – why are all these "Sending" hymns – speaking about Christians like they're a means of grace instead of emphasizing, like, the actual means of grace? 2 tacks.

986 is "May God bless us" (and keep us), a Swahili folk hymn based on the Aaronic benediction (Numbers 6:24), to its own tune, with one line of Swahili lyrics above the English. The accompaniment is provided, except for a phrase earmarked for "Leader," the better (I suppose) to showcase the African traditional style of part singing – not to mention rhythms that in the context of Shepherd of the Cornfield probably mean the choir and a soloist will be singing this at the congregation. And I may have mentioned memories of struggling to teach such rhythms even to the church choir. Such are the times we live in, the state of education, etc. As for the lyrics, they don't get any further in the Aaronic than multiple repeats of "May God bless us and keep us" except for an "evermore" and the Leader's "Revere the Lord," which hits me as a blown opportunity to set the whole verse to music. It wouldn't take any more notes than are already on the page, I'd think. 3 tacks.

987 is "Guide my feet," an African-American spiritual with its own tune. Crafted to a call-and-response design, "Leader" gets most of the lyrics (five stanzas!) with All (most likely meaning Choir) part-singing the unvarying response, "while I run this race." A couple of times, the bass section gets a solo at the end of a phrase ("Yes, my Lord"). Apart from that, everything is repeated three times, concluding with the refrain, "for I don't want to run this race in vain." Each stanza adds all of three syllables worth of material to the cumulative whole. So, typically, it's a fine work of cultural art but, compared to hymns that can economically put a lot of valuable content through the mouths of the congregation, this is an opportunity for them to sit back and listen to a miniscule amount of content being stretched out over the same amount of time. 3 tacks.

988 is "The Spirit sends us forth to serve" by Delores Dufner (I'm not going to repeat her citations again), set to Robert A. Hobby's (b. 1962) tune SANTA MONICA, without accompaniment. Again, the lyrics depict us all being sent to do the ministry when, really, most of us are sent to live Christian lives in our various vocations while the ministerium does the ministry. I suppose you could read this as what "the Church" does, and what each Christian might once in a while find an occasion to do if he or she is looking out for it. But mostly, we don't "go" to proclaim the gospel; we come to church to hear it proclaimed; and if we want it to be proclaimed to more people, we should invite them along with us. Let's not blur away the distinctiveness of the office of pastor or conflate the living of Christian lives with the means of grace. I hate to say it, but Dufner disappoints with this one. 2 tacks.

989 is "Let your peace rain upon us," a Palestinian traditional piece entirely consisting of three phrases (one of them repeated), yet crediting two translators (Mark Swanson, b. 1955, and Mark Sedio, b. 1954). It very briefly, simply and emphatically prays for God's peace. I'm giving it 1 tack for omitting the accompaniment.

990 is "We will go with God," a Swaziland traditional piece (it's actually called Eswatini now), with a line of lyrics in the Xhosa language above David Dargie's (b. 1938) English translation, set to his arrangement of the traditional tune. The page has a footnote explaining an "approximate pronunciation" the Xhosa lyrics, which would be more helpful if it weren't in a font size akin to sports agate. The setting leads off with a phrase for Leader, followed by a part-singy answer including the words "Ho! ho! ho!" and repeat. A couple of phrases give the bass section a brief solo ("This day, oh!") and the only lyrics on top of what you already know are "On this day of great joy," repeated twice. I'm not such a Eurocentric bigot that I won't admit that what this hymn says, little as it is, is better than most of the "Sending" hymns above. It is, however, another case of a tiny amount of content, stretched out over an amount of time that could be better used to the nourishment and edifying of the congregation, to whom (not by whom) it will probably be sung. 2 tacks.

991 is "Go to the world" by United Church of Christ minister Sylvia G. Dunstan (cf. 915, 916, 954), set to Ralph Vaughan Williams' SINE NOMINE (cf. "For all the saints who from their labors rest"), accompaniment omitted. Again, it's one of those hymns that I think would be better earmarked for a seminary graduation service, or the commissioning of a missionary, or a farewell to a departing minister, etc., rather than "Sending" as in close of worship. It exhorts its target audience to "go into all the earth" to "preach the cross," which I suppose you could say of the Church as a whole but that doesn't apply individually to everyone departing from Sunday morning worship. Also, I'm underwhelmed about Stanza 1's stated view of the cross as "where Christ renews life's worth" (oh, hooray) and baptism as "the sign of our rebirth." Stanza 2 mentions "redeeming grace" and "God's presence" as part of the message; St. 3 vaguely supports the theory that we're talking about the Church and not each individual member of it. St. 4 puts on quotation marks and references the concluding words of Christ's commission to the apostles in Matthew 28:20. But if we've been alluding to Matthew 28 all along, why does the message seem so reductionistic vs. "all things whatsoever I have commanded you"? And why are we baptizing people into a sign vs. the name of Father, Son and Holy Spirit? I get that you can't say everything in four stanzas of essentially three lines of poetry. It's a matter of priorities. And for misplaced ones, plus that accompaniment thing, 3 tacks.

As I write this, morning is coming on. And so is the "Morning" section of this book. But I'm going to stop here, while the hours are still wee, so that perhaps I may get some sleep in the hours that remain before my alarm clock goes beep. We've added another 21 tacks, bringing the running total to 169 tacks in 91 hymns – an average tackiness of about 186 percent. It keeps climbing! How high can this go?

Tacky Hymns 110

Continuing with the "Word of God" section in the hymnal supplement All Creation Sings ...

971 is "Come and seek the ways of Wisdom" by Ruth Duck, set to Donna Kasbohm's (b. 1933) MADELEINE – accompaniment omitted. Should the fact make us squirm, that this hymn takes full advantage of one of Scripture's few feminine metaphors for the word of God? And so, when it gets around (mid-stanza 2 or so) to "the Word made flesh," and then equivocates a couple of lines later regarding what word it is talking about, should we suspect a subtle attempt to blur out the masculine gender of Christ? I'm constantly in peril of being caught inputing what I can't prove to this hymnal's account so I'll just leave that innuendo dangling there and give it 2 tacks.

972 is "Listen now for the gospel," a Zimbabwean traditional song translated by John L. Bell (b. 1949). The stanzas and the Alleluias of the refrain are harmonized in a way that suggests part-singing, albeit with very limited harmonic movement. The rest of the refrain is notated, in tiny notes, for "Leader" to sing, suggesting a soloist-and-choir presentation rather than a hymn to be sung in unison by the congregation. I mean, congregations may be up to this sort of thing in Zimbabwe but not at Grandma Smurf's church. Nevertheless I have to give this piece credit for packing more Pentecost prayer-to-the-Holy-Spirit value than most of the hymns in this book's Pentecost section. For being sung at, rather than by, the congregation, 1 tack.

973 is "The Word who sang the light into creation" by Alberto Taulé (†2007), translated by Martin L. Seltz (cf. 931, 932, 934, 963), including Taulé's own tune, PALABRA VIVA. The structure of the tune requires it to be spread out over two pages, accompaniment omitted, so that stanzas 1 and 4 can be sung to one musical strain, stanzas 2 and 5 to another, and stanza 3 to its very own, which makes it more like a piece of popular music than a hymn. It is of the nature of a hymn, generally speaking, to be able to be sung stanza after stanza to the same melody. For this structural complexity, which probably puts it out of the salt-of-the-earth parish's price range, and for the accompaniment issue, and for makiing a conspicuous display of the original Spanish lyrics when this still, last I checked, isn't actually a Spanish-language hymnal, 3 tacks. As for the merit of its lyrics, I once again see a potential hymn-tune writing project.

974 is "Listen to the Word" by Anonymous, Canada, to its own tune. It's very brief – four lines – and seems like the beginning of a good argument that cries out to be extended. At that length I'm somewhat at a loss to imagine where it could usefully fit into a service. Also, the accompaniment is omitted, so 1 tack.

975 is "O God, whose word well-planted" by Stuempfle, set to Stephen P. Folkemer's (b. 1952) ABIDING PRESENCE, accompaniment omitted. A sight-sing-through leaves the impression that it sounds like an awful lot of tunes on the spectrum between Irish folk and contemporary worship songs. It also has an unfortunate rhythm at the end of its odd-numbered phrases that I think Grandma Smurf's congregation may struggle against and emerge victorious. If you know what I mean. I'd be looking for a different tune to suit this otherwise blameless hymn. As it is, 2 tacks.

976 is "Come and See" (first line: "What are you looking for?") by Robert A. Hobby (b. 1962), set to his own tune. The accompaniment is provided this time, and I'm pleased to report that it has touching harmonic colors with constantly moving inner parts, in the style of the finest modern hymn tunes – complete with an echo effect written into the last phrase for the altors and tenors. Of course, this raises the concern that it's meant more as a choir piece than a congregation number. But what does it give the congregation? The lyrics in their entirety are represented in the hymn's title and first line. It literally doesn't say anything more. It doesn't go anywhere; it doesn't lead one to any conclusion; it doesn't really, explicitly, point to Christ. Its lyrics are based on a biblical allusion (John 1:38-39) that the hearer/singer needs to know in advance to get any value out of it. It could be open to so many interpretations, so many uses other than an edifying, Christian one. If it was the beginning of a multi-stanza hymn that actually built on the promise of its first (and only) two lines of lyrics, it would be something worth, er, coming and seeing. As it is, 4 tacks; I'm sparing it the full count only because of the nice music.

Moving onto the "Gathering" (i.e., opening of worship) section, 977 is "Look who gathers at Christ's table" by Thomas H. Troger (cf. 920, 947, 954), set to Michael Corzine's (b. 1947) tune COPELAND. Again, I'm very happy that the book included the harmony, which is rich and beautiful and supports a well-structured hymn tune (albeit with a phrase lifted from O DURCHBRECHER). Troeger's text is definitely among those hymns that emphasizes the horizontal communion between believers, through Christ is painted into the picture. It builds into a beautiful expression of the invitation that a gracious God extends toward sinners to dine at His feast of grace and mercy. I think I've had aesthetic issues with some of Troeger's word choices before; there are a couple places in this hymn where I think he could have improved his verse style, but honestly, 0 (zero) tacks this once.

I know! It hardly ever happens, with my finger on the trigger of the tack dispenser. What does it take to skate by like this hymn? Oh, I don't know – having decent music, showing all the notes, and pairing them with a text that does a good job and does it well, maybe? It doesn't have to be as hard as ACS makes it look. I've gone through hymnals where there was hardly anything to tack – like the supplement I looked at immediately before this. They don't all have to look exactly like ELDoNA's rump hymnal. The hymns don't all have to be 15th and 16th century chorales. Heck, they could all be 21st century originals. But Lutherans who care about what the church sings should feel like they're getting a good deal in this book, and, well ...

978 is "God welcomes all," with words by Bell set to his transcription and arrangement of a South African traditional melody. It's very brief – three phrases – but in that space it has four iterations of an off-beat rhythm that will probably take the average congregation several repetitions to master. It might be more of a choir piece, but again, soooo brief that it makes you wonder whether "repetition ad nauseam" is the intended direction for it. If parallel fifths make your flesh crawl, you should medicate ahead of time; this is culturally authentic stuff, you'll want to be repeating in the back of your head. I'm going to give it 2 tacks: one because of its brevity, which is either awkward or has weird implications; the other, because in the context of the ELCA, I can't help but wonder whether this blaring emphasis on "all are welcome" isn't connected with open communion.

979 is "Making their way" by Delores Dufner (cf. 930, 933, 944, 952, 954); you know, that Minnesota nun who has been hymn-writing in circles around the contemporary Protestant authors represented in this book. I doff my cornette to her. In this hymn, she depicts the procession of "sinners and saints" throughout the ages who, hearing God's call, have been coming to His feast in the worship of Jesus. It seems like a decent enough hymn, though something about the "Making their/our way" opening line of each stanza, combined with the character of the tune (KOMT NU MET ZANG, from a 17th century Dutch hymnal), makes the whole piece come across to me as the themesong for an educational program or the jingle for a line of motivational seminars ... which is a terrible but not entirely inaccurate description of what a hymn is. So, I guess, 0 tacks.

980 is "Come, Holy Spirit, descend" by Bell, with a fermata in parentheses (that bullseye thing that means "hold this note") followed by some hummed notes and a repeat sign, and then a block of "Additional verses ad lib." below the score. The hymn bids the Spirit "descend on us" as "we gather here in Jesus name," and that's it. Other than, in the optional additional stanzas, changing the first line to "Come, Breath of heaven," or Word of mercy, or Fire of judggment, or great Creator, or "Come to unite us," or to disturb us, or to inspire us, and I suppose one might feel oneself invited to make up additional openers to keep this musical motor cycling. I wonder if people singing it the last time through will know not to sing the hummed bridge back to the beginning of the piece. It doesn't, in any conventional or painfully obvious way, say "Stop here on the last stanza." Or, you know, Fine (not in the passive agressive sense, but in the music notation sense). But I don't really care. When you look straight through this piece – and there isn't much in the way of doing so – you'll recognize that there's not a lot there and repeating it more times isn't going to bring out any hidden merits. 2 tacks.

981 is "All who are thirsty" by Brian Wentzel (b. 1979), words and music. One stanza of a duet between Leader and All, with the latter singing in harmony. Stylistically, it's either a counterfeit African-American spiritual or a counterfeit African traditional song. It's very brief, delivering an invitation for the thirsty to come to the waters, the hungry to come here and eat, and concluding "There's enough for all" before going into an indefinite number of repeats. The irony is, the very creation of this piece and its inclusion in this book suggests that today's American Lutherans are being reconditioned to accept a starvation diet of meaningful content in their hymns. 2 tacks.

982 is "Many will come" by Daniel Schwandt (b. 1977), words and music, based on Luke 13:26 and 14:15. Notated without accompaniment, is is pointed to be sung in two-part canon; and the two stanzas are not numbered to be sung in sequence, but separated by an "OR" in small caps – I guess because once you're doing it as a round, there's no convenient way to switch to the next stanza. In the first stanza, in Roman type, the many from east and west come to eat in the kingdom of God; and blest are they who eat bread in the kingdom of God. In the second, italicized stanza, they come to be washed in the waters of life, and blest are they etc. It's a nice little round, and I'm on the fence about whether I'd rather see it pulled from the pew book and put into an album for the choir or youth group or Sunday School or what-have-you. But regardless, the amount of time spent singing it as a round (if you can get the congregation to play along with that) could probably be more profitably spent singing a hymn that explored the theme more deeply. 2 tacks.

We'll pick up another time with the "Sending" section where, I promise you, we'll see another round, another line of Spanish lyrics above the English, a line of Swahili lyrics above English, a line of Palestinian Arabic lyrics above English, a Leader part dialoguing with All, and so many other things that you know are going end up with tacks stuck in them! For today, however, we've added another 20 tacks to a running total of 148 tacks in 82 hymns – making this book, so far, 180 percent tacky. In perspective, that's enough tackiness to saturate one and four-fifths books. But we're still less than halfway through it. So much more fun to come.

The Holdovers

This past Sunday, the local movie theater offered me the choice of Disney's Wish, DreamWorks Animation's Trolls Band Together or the latest installment in the Hunger Games franchise, The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes. I said "no thanks" to all of them and, instead, drove a couple hours round trip to see The Holdovers, instead.

Don't get me wrong. Fun, animated movies and film adaptations of YA fantasy franchises are right in my wheelhouse. But I've never had any exposure to the Hunger Games books or movies, and based on what I know about them, I don't care for the concept. I've never watched a Trolls movie (I believe the current film is the third). And Disney has been failing to deliver anything I'm interested in for a while. So, it was the positive buzz about the quality of Alexander Payne's (Election, About Schmidt, Sideways, The Descendants, Nebraska) movie that grabbed me, despite the fact that I hated his previous movie, Downsizing.

Leading the cast is Paul Giamatti, who has starred in a couple of Payne's movies before; I've read that he was originally intended for Matt Damon's role in Downsizing, which might have made an interesting difference. Giamatti plays an ancient civilizations teacher at his old, private, all-boys high school, who is hated by the students (who call him Walleye) and not particularly loved by his colleagues. He lives a solitary life, grades his students strictly on their merits and has a low-key grudge against entitled rich kids, which maybe is a sign he has chosen the wrong career; however, you learn as the movie progresses how he got there. As Christmas 1970 approaches, he lands the assignment of babysitting the "holdovers," the kids who are stuck on campus over the holidays. He doesn't take it very well.

At first there are five holdovers, but most of them helicopter off to a ski holiday only a few days into the break, leaving Giamatti and the school's head cook (Da'Vine Joy Randolph) along with the most cross-grained, attitude-challenged kid of all, played by Dominic Sessa in what I believe to be his movie debut. There are other people in the cast, to be sure, including Tate Donovan and Gillian Vigman (Dr. T'Ana in Star Trek: Lower Decks) as the kid's mom and stepdad. (I take it a couple of the older boys are among the teen heartthrobs of the current moment.) But these three pretty much carry the movie, becoming an unlikely family (for just a bit) and supporting each other through their concurrent rough patches.

The boy, Angus, has been pretty much given up on by his folks. He claims his father is dead, but there's a bigger story to that and it ends up changing Paul, the teacher's, life. Meanwhile, Paul has a backstory that explains a lot about his classroom douchebaggery, that he reluctantly reveals to the kid. As for Mary, the cook, she's heavily mourning her barely-grown-up son, who received a Barton Academy education as a staff member's son, but couldn't afford to go to college. So, he ended up shipping out to Vietnam, and you can guess the rest. The friction between these mismatched characters ensures that as they grow on each other, it's an interesting process to watch. And when the final crisis comes (hint: you're going to hate Angus's parents), the movie delivers a moving catharsis and a bittersweet yet fulfilling ending.

There was one scene that I had a bit of trouble understanding. Late in the movie, it depicts a hunky teenager getting out of the shower and checking himself out in the mirror, and I'm like, "Who even is that?" I almost didn't recognize the school quarterback, last seen in the helicopter scene, and that's when it hit me that his new haircut was the point of the shot – a quick, dialogue-free jab of storytelling that requires the audience to keep track of plot threads that haven't been touched in the past 100 minutes. Kind of like when Arwen shows up to marry Aragorn at the end of The Lord of the Rings and I, on my first time reading the book, go "Who?" Clearly, Payne has high expectations for his audience.

Three Scenes That Made It For Me: (1) Definitely the scene in which Paul takes Angus to visit where his father is, erm, buried. The consequences are emotionally stirring, both short- and long-range. (2) Mary's meltdown in the kitchen at the school secretary's Christmas party. There isn't an actor in this trio who shouldn't be collecting trophies this award season. (3) When the kid lies to a hospital nurse to protect Paul from the consequences, after he dislocates his shoulder during a foolish act of defiance.

I want to add that I'm pretty pleased with the look of this film, which takes place about one year before I was even a gleam in my parents' eyes but still evokes memories of my early childhood. You know how it is? I recently walked into a roomful of kitsch at an antique shop and was hit by a smell that made me think, "Whoa, that's the 1970s." This movie's interiors, exteriors and street scenes enfold the viewer in a palpable embrace of 1970-71, with a strong accent of My Old School, even if you didn't have an old school. It's a sense of time and place that cuts through strongly at every point. And there are many points in it that linger in your thoughts afterward.