So, last week I had a great deal of fun at the expense of the song “Muskrat Love,” which charted for America (#34), in 1973, and for The Captain and Tennille (#4) in 1976.  In the piece I wrote last week I asked how it would even occur to somebody to write a song about two muskrats on a date?  I questioned whether there was ever any tradition of songs about muskrats upon which to build.  I wondered why a song about muskrats would prove so popular that it would chart not once, but twice in the span of three years. I was quite smug about it all, really, and braced myself for a flood of emails from angry Captain and Tennille fans.  It never came.  Either no one read the piece, or cared, or perhaps both their fans are recovering from hip-replacement surgery. Or maybe I was really convincing when I offered all those arguments about how silly it is to write (and buy) a song about muskrats.

            Then last Saturday I was transferring some vinyl albums I have to CD.  I was listening to my very first favorite album: The Dukes of Dixieland, Live at Carnegie Hall.  It was my dad’s, and I’ve been listening to it for as long as I can remember.  I can whistle all the tunes, and name the band members.  The Dukes, along with the Tennessee Ernie Ford gospel albums my mom listened to, implanted a permanent, back-beat, toe tap at the end of each of my feet.  I listened to “Tin Roof Blues,” to “76 Trombones,” to “Yellow Dog Blues,” to “Sweet Georgia Brown,” and then to my favorite tune on the B-side: “Muskrat Ramble.”  Yes, I confess, I love a song about muskrats.  Kid Ory, who wrote “Tiger Rag,” wrote “Muskrat Ramble,” and I have five versions of it in my collection – one by the Dukes, one by Al Hirt, one by Pete Fountain, one by Louis Armstrong (Kid Ory was the trombonist for Armstrong’s Hot Five and Hot Seven bands), and one by D’Jango Reinhardt.

            You Captain and Tennille fans might ask: “So why is your song about muskrats better than our song about muskrats?” Well, I might point out that although muskrats don’t go out on dates and jitterbug, they do, indeed, ramble.  I might also point our that Kid Ory was important to the careers of King Oliver, Sidney Bichet, and Louis Armstrong, whereas The Captain and Tennille were only important to the career of married mimes, Shields&Yarnell.  But, ultimately, I can’t prove anything.  There are no metrics to apply. It is all subjective.  My song about muskrats just is better than your song.

            Is Harley better than Honda?  Is John Wayne a better cowboy than Randolph Scott?  Is Dickens a better novelist than Trollope? Is Joe Gibbs a better football coach than Tom Landry?  Is Secretariat or Seabiscuit the greatest racehorse ever?  If Jack Johnson fought Joe Louis fought Muhammad Ali fought Mike Tyson – in his prime – who would win?   Who knows? No one.  Who cares? Everybody.

            We all have favorites, about whom we feel passionately, and for whom we will fight even though the argument is pointless because there can be no provable answer to it.

            When we talk about the Bible we do not find ourselves in this predicament.  God is changeless (James 1:17).  His word is eternal and changeless (Psalm 119:89-96).  His word, according to David in Psalm 19, is: perfect, sure, right, pure, clean, true, desirable, and sweet (Psalm 19:7-10).  We have a standard to apply. One can say with surety, “The Bible teaches us to…..,” or “The Bible says we should not….”

            My question, then, is this: Why is it, that more often than not, our real passions are spent on our opinions, not on God’s truth?    When was the last time we were as passionate about a Biblical truth, as we were the outcome of The Super Bowl, the presidential election, or “Dancing with the Stars”?  I don’t know the answer to that either.  I just know that it is often the case, and that it is not right. Perhaps, since these opinions are subjective – matters of personal taste and preference, our passion for them is just another form of selfishness.

            We must remember, then, that the greatest command is to love God with all that we are – heart, soul, strength, and mind; emotionally, spiritually, physically, and intellectually.  When this world ceases to be, as someday it will, it won’t matter one whit if the Redskins are better than the Cowboys, or whose song about muskrats is better.  It will matter – eternally matter – how we have responded to God’s changeless word.