Charlie Daniels: Failed Messiah?

A couple weeks ago, my summer officially began. It was the inaugural concert of the summer concert series at the Magic Springs amusement park in Hot Springs. My $49.99 season pass gets me into all the concerts all summer. An extra 5 bucks a show in March reserved me seats on the 3rd row, middle aisle. The season kicked off in style with the Charlie Daniels Band. Admittedly, Magic Springs has become the last stop before assisted living for many old school classic rock and R&B bands. But that didn't stop the CDB from bringing it to thousands of unappreciative season passholders. I'm well aware of the politically insane, often right-wing, lyrics of many Charlie Daniel's songs. I grew up listening to "The South's Gonna Do it Again" and hearing Charlie condemn the Russians to hell in "In America." Much of my early theology was quite consistent with and fueled by "The Devil Went Down to Georgia." That Saturday night I decided before my rollercoastered behind ever sat down that I was going to put all my academic and progressive scruples on hold for 90 minutes. I was going to join in and celebrate my Southern heritage in a true redneck fashion and hoop and holler you haven't seen since Brown vs. Board of Education. The band was hot, and Charlie did his part from the opening song in which he broke his fiddle bow, to the much-anticipated "Devil" solo before he lays the golden fiddle on the ground at Johnny's feet. Charlie did seem to tame his message a bit, though, I guess for the benefit of the kids in the audience, or those fans now on medicare. He struggled to tone his swear words down and he did change "Russians" to "enemies" in his condemnation of America's foes. Still, he presented proudly his pride in being a misunderstood Redneck and offered a justice system for drug dealers based on hanging rather than trial by peers. The music was great and I was fully caught up in the show. The surprise came when I realized that I was not struggling to keep up with the redneck crowd as I had anticipated, I was leading the charge alone. Very few cheers and "hell yeahs!" were uttered by the crowd when Charlie presented his gospel. This concert crowd differed immensely from the same Charlie Daniels crowd you would have experienced in Arkansas 30 years ago. Most of these people just didn't get excited about Dixie, God, America, and rednecks. It was almost as if a culture was dying before my eyes. I had the same feeling when my grandmother died last year and I hailed her as the "Last Southern Lady" in my eulogy. Southern rock, fiddles, family, and bearded obesity, just don't play out like they used to, despite the fact that Charlie Daniels sounds as good as ever. Near the end of the concert, Charlie sat down on a stool with his acoustic guitar and unapologetically professed his belief in Jesus and his love of gospel music. He said he always played one gospel song in all his shows. He then went into a powerful and emotive version of "How Great Thou Art" reminding everyone of just what a great voice he has. His gospel song was interrupted however, by at least 2 statements hurled from the crowd to the stage. One guy a few rows back yelled, "Don't get religious on us! Pick something else!." Not what I expected from a Magic Springs crowd at a CDB concert. Another voice quickly countered, however. The slightly innebriated woman in her 60's sitting next to me shouted, "Give 'em your testimony! Charlie Daniels you are our saviour!" Suddenly, I realized in that moment where we stand culturally and theologically in Arkansas in 2009. The frustrated failure of Charlie Daniel's religion making it's last stand against a post-modern skepticism. I wish the battle for our religious soul was a simple as a fiddle showdown in Georgia. We may be at the end of the era of the Southern religious simplicity of the Charlie Daniels Band, but I'm gonna take my hat off as he leaves the stage.

Dunk the Chaplain for Cereal's Sakes!

June marks the month of our annual VA hospital cereal drive. The goal is 15,000 boxes of cereal donated for children in our community. We are most of the way there. Over 2000 dollars was raised just this past Friday via our dunking booth at the Little Rock and North Little Rock campuses. A huge success, yours truly can't claim any credit for the dunking booth's windfall. Always eager to take one for the team, I volunteered to represent the chaplains for a 15 minute shift atop the homemade dunking booth. This was the first year the chaplain's department would get to mount the booth. We were excited. We broke into the priest's closet and got a candle-snuffing brass scepter and a baptismal robe. My boss coughed up a clerical collar. I dressed in black and was ready to go. I was ready to taunt my fellow employees in King James English while watching them delight in taking out their frustrations on a minister in a dunking booth, all for a good cause. Such was not the case. After jettisoning my robe in order to keep from drowning, I sat lonely and embarrassed for 10 long minutes of silent dunklessness. The administrator before me? Dunked more than a dozen times rapid fire. When the clergy took the stage, however, the dunking ceased. My prophetic calls to "Dunk Thy Neighbor!" fell on deaf ears. One lady paid her money walked up and then immediately sat down when she saw who was up for dunking. "Aw, Naw, I ain't gonna dunk him, I'll just wait." "That just wouldn't seem right," another said, as my fellow volunteers tried to feverishly prime the pump by dunking me. I shouted to the lady, "Aw, C'mon, I know you've been done wrong by a minister at some point in your life!" To no avail. After towelling off my embarrassment, I realized a painful truth. People talk smack about ministers all the time. They often gossip about them, vote them out of their churches, and blame them for causing them to leave the church. But when the get a chance to get even publicly, they balk. Is there still a healthy respect for clergy despite all the scandals and abuse that ministers have been involved in for millenia? Or do people not want to make public their realization that ministers are humans too and worthy of a good dunking. Are they taking ministers too seriously? Or are they taking themselves too seriously? I remember a family member chastizing his wife in a hospital room several years ago. She said "damn!" and was quickly rebuked. "Can't you see this is a man of the cloth!", her husband retorted. He then tried to make an appeal for her to give up her chair for me. I felt a bit ridiculous, much the same as i did when the dunking booth screeched to a halt and they unloaded me 5 minutes before my shift was up. I felt like a bad stripper who cleared out the bar in one routine. I wanted to make a final plea for all ministers before leaving the dunking booth. "Stop treating us with kid gloves and stop hiding behind our supposed moral superiority." We Baptists call it the "priesthood of all believers." The VA cereal drive calls it, "Go ahead and dunk the chaplain for cereal's sakes!"