Greetings, my fellow port swillers!

Over at Crisis Magazine this morning, Anthony Elosen has an amusing article on paint-by-numbers hymns.  A sample take-down:

Amen to the Body of Christ. Pat and Mike are sauntering down the street. “Hey,” says Pat, “why don’t we duck into St. Mary’s there and get us some Eucharist?”

“Amen to that!” says Mike.

It isn’t as if the opening refrain gets much better:

Amen to the Body of Christ we receive,
bread for the fullness of life.
Amen to the Body of Christ we become,
bread for the life of the world.

A bit of self-celebration, that.  I am a member of the body of Christ, but I am certainly not the Eucharistic bread. You eat my flesh and drink my blood, pal, and you’re paying a visit to the emergency room.

Heh.  G’wan over and read the rest.  I am firmly of the belief that the subject of Truly Bad Hymns – with their various combinations of wince-making meter, stretched imagery, awful tunes and fuzzy or incoherent theology – is a universal one ripe for ecumenical hooting.

On a more positive note, those friends of the decanter who reside in the Port Swiller neck of the woods and are interested in this sort of thing may like to know that the National Cathedral is kicking off its concert season on September 29 with a performance of Haydn’s oratorio The Creation.  The middle gel will be on hand, aiding and abetting the choir with her powerful lungs and, if I know anything about her, basking in the limelight.