[...] Herein lies one of the prevalent problems in todays' church ... worship has become a "game." [...]
Charles Richard Lester has a wickedly funny response to bruise in the monastery's "worship has become a 'game'" comment, which I wish to share with you here. This has tickled my funny bone, and if I wake up one morning on the snarky side of the bed, I just might try this one morning in church. (But not during Lent, of course.)
One of my favorite games in noisy churches is to play a prelude that starts on the softest stop then gradually, subtly, grows louder and louder until FULL ORGAN, including the pew-rattlers and party-horns, is roaring full tilt. Then press a piston which retires all the stops except the Lovely Flute Celeste, and oh, what a grand cacophony of chattering, jibber-jabbering, yelling and shouting you will hear from the saintly seat-holders.
And boy, does Matilda Floppenbottum have egg on her face when she is heard shouting full blast to her gossip-partner Hilda Heavinbosum, "I HEARD THAT THE CHOIR DIRECTOR'S DAUGHTER IS ON THE PILL BECAUSE SHE HAS BEEN SLEEPING WITH THE PASTOR'S SON!"
Check, and mate.