The Young Salvationists

After Hank Sparrowhawk left the stage, he walked over to John Thomas and shook his hand, and then they embraced and clapped each other on the back. John Thomas laughed at something Hank said, and Hank smiled back. They acted as if they were old friends. I heard John Thomas say, "You're exactly right!" but I still don't know what they were talking about.

Over to the left of the bandshell, Gerald L.K. Smith and Teddy were also talking, but neither of them seemed happy at all. In fact, Reverend Smith slammed his right fist in his left palm, and I heard him say, "That damned Indian don't know sh—" but he lowered his voice when he saw the dismayed look on Louise's face. She knelt forward on one knee and pulled Abigail and Malcolm tight against her with her hands clapped over their outward ears.

Anyhow, Max Hunter — remember? he was the event organizer — came back up on the stage and said, "Well, that's one of the wonderful things about live events: You just never know what will happen next. Wasn't that an interesting exchange, folks? Now, our next group has been patiently waiting in the wings, so please help me bring on the Young Salvationists!" The applause was scattered, and several people got up to leave; we were theologically exhausted, and the name "Young Salvationists" betokened more Fundamentalist dogma. Nevertheless, four young men bravely mounted the stage with their instruments slung about their necks.

"Good afternoon," said the leader of the group. "My name is Ernie Stout, and we are the Young Salvationists from Mountain Home, Missouri. We're here to sing old Gospel favorites and new Gospel ditties, and we hope you'll sing along with the former and tolerate the latter. This first number is our signature song, and we hope you enjoy our rendition of a few of those old favorites."

HUMMM, they sang in four-part, Southern Gospel harmony.

Then Ernie kicked it off:

The crowd clearly didn't expect this, and a tittering swept over the folks. Some of the people who were leaving turned around and started listening. The boys continued:

More laughter and even some applause. And the boys sang on:

By now, the seats were filling up again, and everyone was having a good time.

Then Ernie said, "See if you recognize these old hymns."

The boy playing guitar leaned into the mic and sang:

Then the boy with the fiddle:

The banjo player sang with gusto in basso profundo:

Then it was Ernie's turn again:

Then the whole group joined in on a chorus, playing their instruments as if they had just entered the gates of Heaven:

Now came the crescendo,

Which built to a climax:

Then the boys sang the last verse in four-part harmony:

A fortissimo:

Now leaning forward, almost cheek-to-cheek, eyes closed and a cappella, they crooned as one into the microphone:

We were on our feet whistling and shouting and clapping. In short, the Young Salvationists saved the show with their Gospel good humor and gentle fun-poking. And I learned something from those boys, too: Folk songs and folktales don't take themselves too seriously, so they help lighten our hearts because we begin to take ourselves less seriously.

Years later, a priest, Father Roger, told me that faith and reason work together for our salvation, but I told him that I think faith and silliness are also necessary. He said, "That's true. And don't forget beauty."

Good point. Don't ever forget beauty. Ever.