Throwing Bones Before Sheep
When I was a wee lad growing up in Thurston County, I remember walking the sheep pasture with my father as he dug up a certain type of poisonous weed. The sheep, he explained, didn’t know better and would eat it to their harm. Whereas the old billy goat seemed to thrive on a diet that included tin cans and ladies’ underwear (true story), sheep required more care in their feeding. So it is with the sheep of Christ’s pasture. We don’t always know what is good to eat. This is why our Lord appoints under-shepherds, saying to them as He did to St. Peter, “Feed My sheep!”
As I was preparing for ordination, an experienced pastor warned me that not all members of my future parish would rejoice to receive a faithful under-shepherd. Chief among the grievances of the disgruntled would be that I had taken away their beloved Methodist hymns. Being warned in advance, I endeavored to ease our transition to good hymnody.
I consulted the bulletins of previous years to build a list of acceptable hymns (no outright poison, but—let’s be honest—that’s a very low bar) that were familiar to the congregation. The congregation had helpfully provided me with a survey of their favorite hymns (every pastor knows this list), a few of which were even in the hymnal. With some idea of what was familiar, I began to introduce one Lutheran hymn a month. There was grumbling, but no revolt. After a year or so, the hymn of the month became the hymn of the week. The level of grumbling remained about the same.
That’s when I switched my strategy. Instead of one good Lutheran hymn a week, we went to only one weak Methodist hymn a week. The grumbling continued. Allowing the occasional weak hymn is what some pastors call “throwing the congregation a bone.” For the sake of dear but malnourished Christians whose stomachs have become accustomed to a poor diet, we cannot eat rich food only. So, on a Sunday where we sang “Dear Christians, One and All Rejoice,” and “Lord, Thee I Love with All My Heart,” we might also sing, “Just as I Am.” We would sing “Holy, Holy, Holy” once a year on Trinity Sunday. These “bones” are not poisonous, yet they are not particularly nutritious either. Consequently, it troubled me to think that I had been sent by Christ with the command to feed His sheep, yet here I was setting both rich and poor food before them.
What makes a hymn beloved? Why is it that Grandma’s favorite hymns are “Amazing Grace,” “It Is Well with My Soul,” and “Great Is Thy Faithfulness”? It’s not the rich doctrinal content. It’s also not the beautiful melodies. The answer is pure, simple nostalgia. Grandma loves these hymns because Grandma grew up with these hymns. (And just to be clear, Grandma probably loves Jesus more than any of us, so a critique of her favorite hymns is not a critique of her faith or love for Christ.)
What is your favorite band? What is your favorite music? I’ll tell you: whatever you were listening to when you were thirteen. The decade in which you came of age had the best bands and the best music, no matter how awful it actually was. (This is true for all decades except for the 80s, which is objectively the best decade and had the best music and the best hair. I know this because it is true.) And what is true for your favorite bands is true for your favorite hymns. By default, you will love most what you sang most growing up. If young people today love “Nearer My God to Thee,” why is this so? Because that’s the hymn they remember singing in church with Grandma before she went to heaven. One generation’s favorite hymns become beloved of the next generation—not because they are objectively good hymns, but because they give us “the feels.” They remind us of the good times when the world was simpler and Grandma was still with us.
When the Missouri Synod worshipped in German, we sang Lutheran chorales and hymns almost exclusively. But in our first English hymnal, The Lutheran Hymnal (1941), less than half of the hymns were of German Lutheran origin, with a substantial portion of the remaining hymns drawn from other traditions: Anglican, Methodist, etc.
History has taught us that as a church worships, so it believes (lex orandi, lex credendi). A church that worships using Methodist hymns will soon come to have Methodist beliefs. Lutheran hymns were written to teach the Lutheran faith (that is, the biblical faith). Therefore, it is no surprise that a generation raised to love Methodist hymns will not love—or even know—Lutheran doctrine.
In my parish, as I continued to “throw a bone” by allowing the weekly sub-par hymn, it occurred to me that I was perpetuating a generational cycle of love for weak hymnody. People love what is familiar. And now God has blessed our congregation with new converts. We have children in the pews once again. Many of these came to us with no prior knowledge of hymnody, good or bad. Why should their formative experience be one of poor hymnody? They can’t love bad hymns if they were never taught to sing bad hymns. (“Bad” by comparison is an appropriate way to speak of weak hymns. Just because they have no poison or false doctrine does not make them good. Twinkies also have no poison, yet they make for a poor diet. Compared to nutritious food, Twinkies are properly called “bad.”)
For three generations now, the most beloved hymns of Lutherans have been non-Lutheran hymns. I wasn’t on duty when Grandma was first taught to love these. But I am on duty now. And I can make certain that the next generation of Lutherans in my parish is fed a diet of rich, orthodox hymnody.
Perhaps throwing bones before sheep was necessary and wise for a time. But in my parish that time is over. Throwing bones was supposed to make disgruntled people happier. I don’t think it worked. Those who were upset when I took away the first Methodist hymn remained equally as upset when I took all of them away. It seems that being discontent with good hymnody is more or less a binary thing. Those who are already grumbling won’t grumble less because of the occasional bone. If anything, that bone only reminds them of what they think they have lost, and serves to keep the wound fresh in their memory.
If precious but grumpy sheep have already decided to complain about being fed good food, we pastors might as well “sin boldly” as Luther once said, and feed them very well. If we are to be accused of taking away people’s favorite Methodist hymns, we might as well get our money’s worth, so to speak, and take them all away for good. It hurts now, but the next generation will be richer for it, and this generation… well, they will all be perfected soon enough. While we can only imagine what our Lord has prepared for the heavenly banquet, I am certain that neither Twinkies nor bones will be set before His precious sheep.