Glorious Train Wrecks

Have you ever loved badly performed music and the forced recital of amateur narration?  Once a year in the vast majority of Church wards and branches, there seems to be a celebration of it.  Little children are forced to memorize or read lines depicting what they've learned in Primary over the year.  They sing, with little professionalism or skill, songs that could be way over their heads, especially for smaller Primaries.  In smaller branches, the number of children attending week to week can swing wildly, making practices even more difficult.  During the presentation itself, the children often freeze, forget, fumble, or improvise, making the entire thing an exercise in adaptation.  Unquestionably, the Primary program is the most stressful event of the year for Primary leaders.

And it's wonderful.  It is, in the words of one member, a "glorious train wreck."

Why do we do it?  What spiritual value does flat music and rote recitation provide?  I think it is more of a learning experience for the children than for the adults-so what exactly are we teaching them?

I think we are teaching them that everyone has a part to play.  No matter how badly we sing, we all have a voice, and it needs to be heard.  No matter how simplistic, we all have testimonies, and they need to be shared.  No matter how modest, we all have contributions, and they should be made.

Recently, I've been playing the piano for my branch's Primary (not the Primary shown above, that was a random video I found on YouTube) and I've come to the realization that I don't play the piano all that well.  Well enough to plunk out a melody for the kids to learn a song, but add in that left hand and some people singing and things can quickly turn south.  I do okay with the hymns because I've practiced those for years, whereas I've only just picked up the Primary songbook.  So when the Primary presentation came up this year with my not having practiced the songs enough, I realized that unless I simplified some of them I would make a mess of them.

My pride didn't want that--this was my time to shine, to beautifully accompany the children and impress the branch with my musical prowess.  Eventually, though, I had to let that go.  I still made a number of mistakes, sometimes losing the left hand entirely.  I settled for what the children needed (a simpler piano part that didn't distract them) and guess what: no one noticed.  Or if they did, they didn't mention it.  The children sounded (relatively) great, and the lessons were taught and learned.

Ours is not a passive religion.  Sure, Heavenly Father could do it Himself...but He has chosen to let us do the work for Him.  Rather than sending angels to accompany us with harps, He sends mediocre piano players.  Rather than sending an orator of the ages, He sends us to speak in Sacrament meeting.  And rather than calling the qualified, He qualifies the called, making our feeble efforts and less-than-stellar results actually be enough.  Just as the widow's barrel of meal could not waste, or the cruse of oil could not fail, so our own paltry strivings for the Kingdom will actually end up being sufficient.