From The Fool=Killer, Boomer, N.C., February
1, 1920. Yes, the title of this religious newspaper has an equal sign in its
title, but it doesn’t use an equal sign in the text of articles.
Canned Religion
A Protestant conference held recently in Boston initiated
the idea of “phonograph pastors.” The idea comes, not as a labor-saving device,
but as a measure of economy. Pulpits lack pastors because pastors are not paid
enough and leave the calling of the ministry for more remunerative employment.
The phonograph asks no salary, repeats the best and most approved sermons of
famous preachers, and can be shut off whenever a sermon taxes the endurance of
the congregation. Moreover, “canned sermons” can be syndicated, so that all
churches can received the same message on the same day. –The Christian Herald
Christopher Betsey!
Just turn your head to one side and let that run in. Let it
soak plum in till it greases the mainspring of your think-box.
Canned sermons!
Canned religion!
Canned faith!
Canned hope!
Canned love!
Canned prayers!
Canned obedience!
Canned humility!
Canned happiness!
Canned—oh, shucks in August! The whole bloomin’ capoodle
seems to be already canned in the devil’s kitchen, and then fermented and got
wiggletails on it.
All over the world the Churches of Babylon are having
jeeminy-fits over the shortage of preachers. The young men are just not
hankering after the preaching job any more.
And so the poor old meek and biddable phonograph is to be
diked out in a frock coat and standing collar and have a pair of $8 spectacles
straddled across its nose and sent out to preaching.
It isn’t intended as a labor-saving device, you see, but as
a matter of economy. The phonograph preacher will not have to pay house rent
and support a wife and family and smoke 15-cent cigars, and therefore it can
work cheap.
Great idea, to be sure!
And it is an idea that can be elaborated and enlarged upon
as necessity arises. From the phonograph in the pulpit, the next logical step
will be the phonograph in the pew. The dear brethren and sisterin’ of the Amen
Corner can get them a supply of small phonographs and put on records filled
with “Amen!” and “Praise the Lord!” and “That’s right, Brother!” and so on. And
they can leave those phonographs in the pews while the sermon is going on, and
they themselves can get out on a back street and serve the devil till the cows
come home.
The canned audience can be times so as to say “Amen!” just
at the proper place during the canned sermon, and some good old canned sister
could bust out and shout a few rounds every little bit, and it would be just
the jimdandiest sort of a service all around.
A stranger passing by that church would think an old-time
revival was in progress, and he would never know the difference till he peeped
inside.
And then at the Judgment Day God can take the phonograph all
to heaven and let the devil have the people.
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