by Fred Moleck
Context
Two columns ago, I relayed my fears about spending Thanksgiving weekend in southern Florida. My major fear was how the traditional menu would change because of southern Florida diets and availability of foodstuffs.
Remember? I was expecting grilled swordfish steak instead of turkey. Key-lime pie would replace pumpkin pie. I would be swilling a tropical punch drink complete with a little parasol in the glass.
Well, my fears were allayed when I learned that a New England transplanted family were bringing to the Thanksgiving table a 22-pound roasted turkey with stuffing and even real mashed potatoes.
I escaped a grilled swordfish steak. I calmed down.
The next evening was phase 2 of festive dining during the three-day eat-a-thon, a.k.a. Thanksgiving weekend. A new set of guests arrived in the evening around 7:00.
After the usual cocktail banter and southern Florida canapés—swirl of smoked salmon twists with capers on rice crackers, just to name one of the six rounds of canapés—we proceeded to the high table for feast #2.
The guests were celebrative. Much laughter, great singing around the piano before dinner, and a bonding occurred that wasn’t contrived.
The main course was roasted wild boar. I am sure many of you have one of these in your freezers when surprise guests appear!
Happily it was only the roast—without the head, tusks, and other body parts. So the singing of the Boar’s Head Carol would have been irrelevant. I was never a gourmet eater, but wild game, especially the ones that identify themselves as wild, has no appeal to me.
Well, I enjoyed it. The company and joviality pulled me over the hurdle of having to eat something that only another wild boar could love.
In this high-table/high-party/socially acceptable gluttony, it has some congruity. What softened my angst about unusual eating habits was the 72-degree temperature outside.
The company was the dinner.
Context is everything. It is the great equalizer.
Here is a liturgical example: funeral music.
Having played and sung about seven million funerals in my career as a music minister (OK, maybe six million), I developed a dislike for “Amazing Grace,” “Be Not Afraid,” “Here I Am Lord,” and “On Eagles Wings.”
Sound familiar?
These items are genuine folk repertory. No, I don’t mean folk song repertory, but music of the folks, the people in the pew, those who are not professional liturgists and pastoral musicians.
Normal folk.
I’m placing these items in the context of a friend’s grandmother’s funeral. The music program for that liturgy included those four items.
Muttering something unkind under my breath, I agreed to play the organ for the event.
During the Mass, a small conversion took place.
The organ was situated in such a place that I could readily see the congregation. Well, the congregation sang. Not only did they sing, they sang with conviction and reverence.
They were singing their songs. They were singing from the heart.
No doubt, my judgment was tempered a little because I really liked “Grandma” and after all, her granddaughter was my friend.
See how the context changes when you inject the personal element?
It’s all about context.
You can reach Fred Moleck via email at fmoleck@earthlink.net