I made the mistake last week of going to a mall music store on a Saturday. I wanted to add to my Van Morrison collection -- I like all of his work, and I regard the Bard of Belfast as essentially a religious poet (try "Whenever God Shines His Light," "Contacting My Angel," "Enlightenment").

Going to Camelot Records on a Saturday was a mistake, I say, because the "musical selection" playing on the store's sound system was some sort of loud rap/rock fusion that hurt my ears. I could barely stand to be there long enough to find the M's, grab Back on Top, and leave.  The clerk who rang up my purchase had bells on her fingers and rings in her nose, as well as hair of a color that does not occur in nature. I knew I was WAY out of the demographics of this store's target market, and I wondered if the Beatles had sounded like that to my parents.

As a long time high school teacher, I was always at least tangentially in touch with what was in vogue in music among my students. But sometime in the mid-80's, probably when I got involved with Raffi and Sesame Street tunes, I began to lose touch and it wasn't long before I couldn't tell the name of the group from the name of the song ("Tub Thumping" and "Chumba Wumba" would be an example of this).

My daughter at 13 has developed her own musical tastes and quickly flips my car radio from The River 97.3 (oldies format) to something more to her liking. Now that she's finished with the Spice Girls, she's favoring Sarah McLachlan, Alanis Morisette, and the Dave Matthews Band -- sounds I can accomodate in the car unless we're in a really tricky traffic maze and I'm not sure which exit to take.

Her current favorite, however, is a group called *NSYNC. They are appearing live at Herheypark this summer, and a few weeks ago she mounted a campaign to get me to allow her to go.

Lynn is savvy about these things. She's heard enough table talk about some of my more colorful students and their adventures at musical performances to know what my (perhaps unfounded) fears are. So she approached it this way -- 1)She would earn the ticket price herself caring for a disabled neighbor's dog; 2)She'd be going with Bethany, Julie, and BETHANY'S MOM (someone I trust) who would attend the performance with them; and 3)(the perceived clincher) these are NICE BOYS whose liner notes thank their parents and who wear What Would Jesus Do? bracelets when they perform!

It was the "Bethany's Mom" part that did it, so Lynn will be attending her first outdoor pop music concert to see *NSYNC.  As we were driving to a doctor appointment the other day we were treated to a broadcast of their current hit.

It's your basic teenage love song. The crooner lists all the positive qualities of the girl who has captured his heart -- she is worth more than diamonds and pearls, she has a deep soul, her kiss is world-changing, she is an angel -- in short, he tells her, "God Must Have Spent A Little More Time on You."

Now really. I mean REALLY. Statements like that just bug the bejesus out of me (so to speak). Is this what God is about -- a craftsman who sometimes turns out something fairly ordinary (like me, maybe), or sometimes messes up and gives us something  ghastly like Linda Tripp, or occasionally REALLY tries hard and we get, say, the late Princess of Wales?

Then there are the corollaries -- did my favorite basketball team trounce their opponent (another Catholic school) on Tuesday because God paid more attention to them? Did my friend's mother die at 57 of a sudden brain aneurysm because God wanted her with him?

I don't think so. I think statements like this trivialize God and cheapen the faith of those who seek to come to grips with his mysteries. Made to someone who has suffered a loss or experienced some pain, they serve only to make God harder to know. And that's not something any of us needs.