The Envelope

Growing up in my Little Bitty Home Town in Texas, we attended church every Sunday at the local Baptist church. I really didn’t enjoy it at all which is strange considering how it’s something I look forward to now. (Now, it's Episcopalian.)


Anyway, for a while when I was about nine or ten years old, we gave this elderly woman a ride to church every Sunday. Her name was Mrs. Clark and she lived on a really run-down farm located on a dirt road a few miles outside of town.

Every Sunday morning, we would drive up to the gate at the edge of her property and either my younger brother or I would have to get out of the car, open the gate and stand there while my grandmother, Budgie, drove up to the dilapidated old farm house to fetch Mrs. Clark. We’d stand there with the gate open, being eyed by threatening cows, until Budgie would return with Mrs. Clark in hand, close the gate and hop back in the car.

Every Sunday, it was the same. Soon before we got to the gate, my brother and I would begin arguing over whose turn it was for gate duty. There was a reason for this. Mrs. Clark would always give the gatekeeper a whole quarter for doing the job. Twenty-five cents! That was 25 percent of my whole weekly allowance; quite a haul for opening and closing a gate, perilous cows notwithstanding.

Yes, it was great to have a shiny quarter given to you for such an easy job. But you see, Mrs. Clark’s huge payroll came with a strings attached. It was meant, not for our benefit, but as earnings destined for the church collection.

We were only in possession of our cash for an entire fifteen minutes. Once we got to Sunday school, it had to go into the Official Sunday School Collection Envelope. I’m sure that anyone who grew up in the Southern Baptist tradition has seen one of these dreadful things:

Not only did The Envelope gobble up your earnings, but it documented your dedication to Sunday school (or lack thereof) and graded it. Here’s what it graded you on:

Present? (20%) That was easy. Was I present at Sunday school? Was I there? Check.

On Time? (10%) Oh my goodness; well if I was on time, I was also present. Check

Bible? (10%) Southern Baptists shouldn’t be without their bible. And it had better be a King James Version, too. None of these high-falutin’ International versions. Check

Offering? (10%) Well, it was an offering envelope after all. Yeah, my hard-earned quarter’s in there. Check.

Lesson? (30%) This was the kicker. Did you study your Sunday school lesson ahead of time? No way! That’s like homework. Yes, they call it Sunday school, but don’t expect me to do homework.

Preaching? (20%) That meant “Are you attending church afterward to hear the preaching?” No small feat since Southern Baptist sermons often ran 45 minutes, if not more. Check.

So, I’d always get a paltry grade of 70 on these things. It also asked you how many people you invited to church, how many phone calls you made, etc. (Yeah, right, like I’m gonna invite any of my friends to come to a place that expects extra homework.)

So, yes, Sunday school sucked. You were graded, had homework, had to give up your money, and were imperiled by cows.

I could never understand why Mrs. Clark actually wanted to be taken there every week.

Church

In my lifelong quest to find The Meaning of Life, I have been attending a Christian Science church near my apartment in downtown Chicago.

I have very fond memories of this faith. Since the age of ten, I was raised by my mom and grandmother who was a staunch Southern Baptist. However, her closest friends were all women of the Christian Science faith and were also dear, grandmothery figures to me.

In case you don’t know, the followers of Christian Science are those that are known for not believing in taking medication. (That's why it was ironic that taking a Vicodin on Sunday morning enabled me to attend) Since my grandmother’s friends lived to be, like, 117 years old, there must be something going for it.

One of them was also my piano teacher and the organist at the Christian Science church in my little-bitty home town in Texas. Whenever she needed a Sunday off, I would fill in for her ever since I was about thirteen years old. So, the teachings of Mary Baker Eddy are not unfamiliar to me - - as a matter of fact, they supply quite a bit of comforting nostalgia.

Having worked as an organist ever since college, if I could get a better-paying job at another church, be it Presbyterian or Episcopalian or non-denominational, I’d jump ship and get on their payroll. Subsequently, I think I’ve played for just about every Christian denomination that exists.

In hindsight, I think the reason I spent seven years in a monastery was for the peace, the solitude, and the fact that I’d receive a free education along with great medical benefits.

Anyway, here are some of the denominations where I’ve been employed as a church musician and a quick synopsis of their belief systems.

Southern Baptist: Every kid being raised in the SBC has heard the following a hundred times: “If you don’t get saved right now and leave church and get hit by a car, you’re going straight to Hell.” Then you sing seventeen verses of Just As I Am.

Presbyterian: Predestination used to be the identifying factor of the Presbyterians but now that’s been watered down so much that it really doesn’t exist anymore. It’s basically your garden-variety, white-bread Protestant church service.

Methodists: Methodists used to believe that your salvation occurred through a series of steps or by a “method”. Now, it’s basically your garden-variety, white-bread Protestant church service.

Disciples of Christ: I never really knew what they believed. So much so, that it really, really was your garden-variety, white-bread Protestant church service.

(One can attend a Presbyterian, Methodist, or Disciples of Christ church service and never ever know the difference - - really)

Episcopalian: The epitome of “High Church”. Very complex music. I worked very hard there.

Unity Church: Basically, your feel-good, Up-With-People, warm-fuzzy church, although anything religious is basically swept under the carpet. I swear, the opening song was often Zippa-Dee-Doo-Dah. And I’m not making this up. The greeting was never a handshake - - it was a full hug – sometimes even a kiss - - sometimes with tongue.

Church of Canada – Many of their hymns sound like Gaelic folk melodies. The Church of Canada is the basic equivalent to the Church of England only more middle-of-the-road.
Just like Canada.

So, aside from Roman Catholicism (which is a whole different story) those are some of the denominations where I’ve played.

Now, I’m back to attending the Christian Science church, at least for a while.

At least they don’t have any part in the service where I have to greet anyone. They have a good thing going there.