Trouble In the Amen Corner

Mark Twain in his satire “The Second Advent” writes about an “Indignation Committee.”  Every church community has one, though it may not be called by that name.  The following song written by Archie Campbell and made popular by country music singer Porter Wagoner popped into my head because it illustrates how the “Indignation Committee” often gets things done.

“It was a stylish congregation you could see they’d been around.  And they had the biggest pipe organ of any church in town.  But over in the Amen Corner of that church sat Brother Ira and he insisted every Sunday on singing in the choir.  His voice was cracked and broken, age had touched his vocal cords and nearly every Sunday he’d get behind and miss the words.  Well, at last the storm cloud burst and the church was told in vine that Brother Ira must stop his singing or the choir was gonna resign.

So the pastor appointed a committee.  I think it was three or four and they got in their big fine car and drove up to Ira’s door.  They found the choir’s great trouble sittin’ in an old arm chair and the summer’s golden sunbeams lay upon his snow white hair.  Said York, we’re here dear Brother with the best res approbation to discuss a little matter that affects the congregation.  Now it is our understanding when we bargained for the choir, that they were to relieve us, that is, they’d do the singin’ for us.  Now we don’t want no singin’ except what we’ve bought.  The newest tunes are all the rage the old ones stand for nought.  And so we have decided:  Are you listenin’ Brother Ira?  You’ll have to stop your singin,’ it’s messin’ up our choir.

The old man raised his head, a sign that he did hear and on his cheek the three men caught the glitter of a tear.  His feeble hands pushed back the locks as white as silky snow and he answered the committee in a voice both soft and low.  

I’ve sung the songs of David nearly eighty years said he, they’ve been my staff and comfort all along life’s dreary way.  I’m sorry if I disturbed the choir.  I guess I’m doin’ wrong, but when my heart is filled with praise I can’t hold back a song.  I wonder if beyond the tide that’s breaking at my feet—In that far off heavenly temple where my Master I shall meet.  Yes, I wonder if when I try to sing the songs of God up higher; I wonder if they’ll kick me out up there for singin’ in Heaven’s choir.

A silence filled the little room.  The old man bowed his head.  The committee went on back to town, but Brother Ira was dead.  Oh, the choir missed him for a while, but he was soon forgot and a few church goers watched the door but the old man entered not.  Far away his voice is sweet and he sings his heart’s desire, where there is no church committees and no fashionable choirs.”