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Glenn's Show Prep

Glenn speaks to Brandon Stewart of the Millennial Choir

August 23, 2013
Wilson

Writer

Earlier this year, Glenn, Pat, and their families attended a performance of the Millennial Choir and Orchestra led by Brett and Brandon Stewart and were absolutely blown away by what they saw.

“This is the most amazing thing I've heard. They are better than the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. We were riveted the entire night,” Glenn said of the group on radio this morning. “Now, here's the amazing thing. This was an entirely volunteer orchestra and choir, and it starts ages 4 and up. It is the best experience you've ever heard… They're from California and Arizona. I'm thinking all the way through, I'm thinking, oh, my gosh. If they lived in Dallas, if they worked in Dallas, I'd do quarterly shows with them. My mind is just racing. And I'm thinking, I've got to go backstage and beg these guys to move to Dallas. Well, at the end of the concert they say, ‘And we have an announcement. We're going to be starting a new choir in Dallas.’ You've got to be kidding.”

Glenn got a chance to go backstage and meet the brothers, who are both Julliard graduates, after the show, and with the organization now expanding to Dallas, it sounds like we can expect to see some pretty exciting collaborations in the future. Auditions for the Dallas area will be held in the coming weeks and all information can be found at Millennial.org.

This morning, Glenn spoke to the Millennial Choir's conductor Brandon Stewart about the history of the choir and orchestra, the standards he and his brother seek to maintain, and the process of composing a new American classic.

Read a transcript of the interview below:

GLENN: And I wanted to bring Brandon, Brandon Stewart. He is the conductor of the Millennial choir. It is all faiths, all ages, and it is volunteer and they are having tryouts in four different states, Brandon; is that right? They start next week?

BRANDON STEWART: Yeah, that's right.

GLENN: Okay. Happening next week near Los Angeles, California; in Phoenix; in Provo, Utah; and Dallas, Texas. And you can bring your whole family. I was just meeting with a guy and he was watching last night. This morning, Robert, he was there, his whole family, and he's wildly talented. And he said, man, he said, I know my daughter, she's too young, but she wants to. And I said, Robert, your whole family ‑‑ first of all, she's not too young, and your whole family could join and you could make this a family kind of thing. But let me just ask you, Brandon. You have standards, and they are different than the world's traditional standards for volunteers. For instance, give me ‑‑ go in your code of conduct. What is that?

BRANDON STEWART: The code of conduct for our singers, it sounds kind of scary that it's called code of conduct, but really it's just a way for us to encourage our participants to have upstanding values and to represent themselves in decent ways ‑‑ in a decent way as they represent Millennial choirs and orchestras. We want this to be something that is a positive impact in the community and so we ask them to be decent people. And then in addition to that, our code of conduct requires that they are committing to the rehearsals and they are going to work hard and basically do what we encourage them to do musically so that we can be, you know, one cohesive unit as a musical organization.

GLENN: Brandon, how do you do ‑‑ because I went and I saw you in Phoenix because you're actually working on Man in the Moon 2, and I want to talk a little bit about that if we ‑‑ if we have time. How do you ‑‑ how do you get teenagers? Because I watched you rehearse teenagers, and they were on the edge of the seat as they are rehearsing. There wasn't any fooling around, there wasn't any ‑‑ I mean, it was discipline city and it was amazing to watch. I don't mean it was discipline city like it was a, you know, torture chamber. You didn't have to discipline. They self‑disciplined. How do you ‑‑

BRANDON STEWART: That's right. That's right. They ‑‑ these kids, first of all, are just awesome. The teenagers are one of the most fun groups that we have to work with. I think that the formula there is that we have a mutual respect for one another, and we have a lot of fun when it's time to have fun. And when it's time to really work and crank down, we do that. I think that they love the music because we hand‑select music for all of our choirs and orchestras that is exciting, that's motivating, that's challenging and ‑‑

GLENN: Really challenging.

BRANDON STEWART: That praises God. They have a reverence for what they're singing about, which I think is unique, especially today.

GLENN: Give me the qualifications and if anybody is interested in any of those cities. Give me the qualifications of what you're looking for and what they ‑‑ should they expect at a tryout.

BRANDON STEWART: Absolutely. First of all, our motto is all ages, all faiths, one voice. And you mentioned that earlier. But we welcome people of all different walks of life from the community and pretty much all ages. I mean, it starts at age 4 and goes up.

GLENN: Hang on. You have atheists in the orchestra, if I'm not mistaken, right? You have people who don't believe in God?

BRANDON STEWART: We do. We have all kinds.

GLENN: So ‑‑

BRANDON STEWART: All different types. So...

GLENN: You don't have to go to a church or anything like that. You can ‑‑

PAT: But you ostracize them, right? You ostracize the atheists?

GLENN: Well, they were sitting in the atheist section, yeah.

PAT: They're shunned.

GLENN: Yeah.

BRANDON STEWART: I mean ‑‑

GLENN: They're forced to ‑‑

BRANDON STEWART: You know, we'll sing about God and so if it's an atheist who's comfortable singing about God, then they are more than welcome to come. So...

GLENN: Right. Right.

BRANDON STEWART: But the auditions are for the adults only. The children and youth do not have to audition. They just register online at millennial.org. And the adults need to have some sort of musical experience or musical background or at least be able to sing.

GLENN: Okay. So Brandon, I sang all through high school, but I haven't ‑‑ I haven't sung except at church since. That's enough?

BRANDON STEWART: Yeah, I think you'd be surprised at how many people fit that description that are in our choirs already.

GLENN: And so what do they have to ‑‑ do they have to prepare something for you, or what are you going to do when you get there?

BRANDON STEWART: Yeah, all the information is online and we have auditions coordinators that help them prepare. And really it's one of the shortest auditions of their life. And they will come in and sing a little bit or play a little bit and we'll ask them to play some things and prepare some excerpts from some music or just a hymn or whatever and then they will sing, we'll get to know them briefly and then we let them know. So it's very simple.

PAT: I can play Mary Had a Little Lamb on a touchtone phone. Is that something you're interested in?

GLENN: Don't take Pat. Don't take Pat.

PAT: Because I think I can bring that to the table for your choir.

GLENN: Don't take Pat. Brandon, why did you ‑‑ why did you guys start this?

BRANDON STEWART: It initially was not our plan to do this. We felt inspired to do it and we didn't quite know why other than the fact that we knew that something like this was needed in the area that we were at in California and so we started it. And then it just kind of went from there. There were people in different areas in the nation, and there still are people all over who are requesting this type of thing in their community. And I think that the reason it's so needed is because, like you said earlier, it's including all families and people of all different faiths and walks of life. And music speaks the universal language. It's unifying the community, and it's such a positive experience for these people.

GLENN: I will tell you that I ‑‑ and I've told you this, Brandon, but let me tell the audience. That I was sitting in that crowd and I listened, and as you played songs, I had so many feelings, but one of them was this needs to go all over the country. These have to pop up all over the country because of the bright, bright light that, it's an explosion of light. And I couldn't believe when you guys said that was exactly what you guys were trying to do. I just couldn't believe it. I know it to be true, and I know it to be right. The Stewart brothers came with me to New York a few weeks ago because they had been ‑‑ you had been trying to talk to your brother ‑‑ or talk your brother into writing something about America, a new American piece.

BRANDON STEWART: Yes.

GLENN: And for about at the same time as I had been walking around going, "There's got to be a new American piece," and the way you guys described it is exactly the way, what I was describing of what to avoid and that is "The Constitution is great! We the people..." and it would just be awful.

BRANDON STEWART: (Laughing.)

GLENN: And so I brought these guys into the library and started telling them stories about America and they are now setting a story for Man in the Moon called The Journey. They are setting this to music. And if you've ever wanted to be a part of some of the things that we do, and I think this one will be one for the history books. If you've ever wanted to be a part of this creative process, this is the way to do it because it will be this orchestra and this choir that helps us put this new piece, this American piece of music and the American story to music in the coming year. And we have only one piece of music that is if I understand, and it is phenomenal, just phenomenal. And I am proud to even know these guys. But if you want to ‑‑ if you want to try out and audition, again it's in Los Angeles, Phoenix, Provo, Dallas. It's Millennial ‑‑ is it just millennial.org?

BRANDON STEWART: Millennial.org, that's right.

GLENN: Millennial, so you also have to be a speller. You can't ‑‑ millennial.org. And when do they start? When do the tryouts start?

BRANDON STEWART: They start next week and in all four locations. All the dates are online on the calendar.

GLENN: Okay. Millennial.org. You will not be disappointed. And I ‑‑ we hope to be doing some ‑‑ many more things on television with the orchestra and we're working on something now called the performance that I think you're going to ‑‑ you'll just be ‑‑ you'll just love and want to be a part of. So please, if you have any talent, an instrument or music and your family, you can go as a single or you can go as a family and try out. Millennial.org. And I would recommend highly that if you're looking for some standards, some quality, and something that will uplift and do tremendous good that you can't even understand until you sit and listen to this choir, go there and be a part of this. Millennial.org. Brandon, thank you. We'll see you soon.

BRANDON STEWART: Thank you.

GLENN: You bet. Bye‑bye. Tremendous, tremendous people.

Trump v. Slaughter: The Deep State on trial

JIM WATSON / Contributor | Getty Images

The administrative state has long operated as an unelected super-government. Trump v. Slaughter may be the moment voters reclaim authority over their own institutions.

Washington is watching and worrying about a U.S. Supreme Court case that could very well define the future of American self-government. And I don’t say that lightly. At the center of Trump v. Slaughter is a deceptively simple question: Can the president — the one official chosen by the entire nation — remove the administrators and “experts” who wield enormous, unaccountable power inside the executive branch?

This isn’t a technical fight. It’s not a paperwork dispute. It’s a turning point. Because if the answer is no, then the American people no longer control their own government. Elections become ceremonial. The bureaucracy becomes permanent. And the Constitution becomes a suggestion rather than the law of the land.

A government run by experts instead of elected leaders is not a republic. It’s a bureaucracy with a voting booth bolted onto the front to make us feel better.

That simply cannot be. Justice Neil Gorsuch summed it up perfectly during oral arguments on Monday: “There is no such thing in our constitutional order as a fourth branch of government that’s quasi-judicial and quasi-legislative.”

Yet for more than a century, the administrative state has grown like kudzu — quietly, relentlessly, and always in one direction. Today we have a fourth branch of government: unelected, unaccountable, insulated from consequence. Congress hands off lawmaking to agencies. Presidents arrive with agendas, but the bureaucrats remain, and they decide what actually gets done.

If the Supreme Court decides that presidents cannot fire the very people who execute federal power, they are not just rearranging an org chart. The justices are rewriting the structure of the republic. They are confirming what we’ve long feared: Here, the experts rule, not the voters.

A government run by experts instead of elected leaders is not a republic. It’s a bureaucracy with a voting booth bolted onto the front to make us feel better.

The founders warned us

The men who wrote the Constitution saw this temptation coming. Alexander Hamilton and James Madison in the Federalist Papers hammered home the same principle again and again: Power must remain traceable to the people. They understood human nature far too well. They knew that once administrators are protected from accountability, they will accumulate power endlessly. It is what humans do.

That’s why the Constitution vests the executive power in a single president — someone the entire nation elects and can unelect. They did not want a managerial council. They did not want a permanent priesthood of experts. They wanted responsibility and authority to live in one place so the people could reward or replace it.

So this case will answer a simple question: Do the people still govern this country, or does a protected class of bureaucrats now run the show?

Not-so-expert advice

Look around. The experts insisted they could manage the economy — and produced historic debt and inflation.

The experts insisted they could run public health — and left millions of Americans sick, injured, and dead while avoiding accountability.

The experts insisted they could steer foreign policy — and delivered endless conflict with no measurable benefit to our citizens.

And through it all, they stayed. Untouched, unelected, and utterly unapologetic.

If a president cannot fire these people, then you — the voter — have no ability to change the direction of your own government. You can vote for reform, but you will get the same insiders making the same decisions in the same agencies.

That is not self-government. That is inertia disguised as expertise.

A republic no more?

A monarchy can survive a permanent bureaucracy. A dictatorship can survive a permanent bureaucracy. A constitutional republic cannot. Not for long anyway.

We are supposed to live in a system where the people set the course, Congress writes the laws, and the president carries them out. When agencies write their own rules, judges shield them from oversight, and presidents are forbidden from removing them, we no longer live in that system. We live in something else — something the founders warned us about.

And the people become spectators of their own government.

JIM WATSON / Contributor | Getty Images

The path forward

Restoring the separation of powers does not mean rejecting expertise. It means returning expertise to its proper role: advisory, not sovereign.

No expert should hold power that voters cannot revoke. No agency should drift beyond the reach of the executive. No bureaucracy should be allowed to grow branches the Constitution never gave it.

The Supreme Court now faces a choice that will shape American life for a generation. It can reinforce the Constitution, or it can allow the administrative state to wander even farther from democratic control.

This case isn’t about President Trump. It isn’t about Rebecca Slaughter, the former Federal Trade Commission official suing to get her job back. It’s about whether elections still mean anything — whether the American people still hold the reins of their own government.

That is what is at stake: not procedure, not technicalities, but the survival of a system built on the revolutionary idea that the citizens — not the experts — are the ones who rule.

This article originally appeared on TheBlaze.com.

1 in 20 Canadians die by MAID—Is this 'compassion'?

Vaughn Ridley / Stringer | Getty Images

Medical assistance in dying isn’t health care. It’s the moment a Western democracy decided some lives aren’t worth saving, and it’s a warning sign we can’t ignore.

Canada loves to lecture America about compassion. Every time a shooting makes the headlines, Canadian commentators cannot wait to discuss how the United States has a “culture of death” because we refuse to regulate guns the way enlightened nations supposedly do.

But north of our border, a very different crisis is unfolding — one that is harder to moralize because it exposes a deeper cultural failure.

A society that no longer recognizes the value of life will not long defend freedom, dignity, or moral order.

The Canadian government is not only permitting death, but it’s also administering, expanding, and redefining it as “medical care.” Medical assistance in dying is no longer a rare, tragic exception. It has become one of the country’s leading causes of death, offered to people whose problems are treatable, whose conditions are survivable, and whose value should never have been in question.

In Canada, MAID is now responsible for nearly 5% of all deaths — 1 out of every 20 citizens. And this is happening in a country that claims the moral high ground over American gun violence. Canada now records more deaths per capita from doctors administering lethal drugs than America records from firearms. Their number is 37.9 deaths per 100,000 people. Ours is 13.7. Yet we are the country supposedly drowning in a “culture of death.”

No lecture from abroad can paper over this fact: Canada has built a system where eliminating suffering increasingly means eliminating the sufferer.

Choosing death over care

One example of what Canada now calls “compassion” is the case of Jolene Bond, a woman suffering from a painful but treatable thyroid condition that causes dangerously high calcium levels, bone deterioration, soft-tissue damage, nausea, and unrelenting pain. Her condition is severe, but it is not terminal. Surgery could help her. And in a functioning medical system, she would have it.

But Jolene lives under socialized medicine. The specialists she needs are either unavailable, overrun with patients, or blocked behind bureaucratic requirements she cannot meet. She cannot get a referral. She cannot get an appointment. She cannot reach the doctor in another province who is qualified to perform the operation. Every pathway to treatment is jammed by paperwork, shortages, and waitlists that stretch into the horizon and beyond.

Yet the Canadian government had something else ready for her — something immediate.

They offered her MAID.

Not help, not relief, not a doctor willing to drive across a provincial line and simply examine her. Instead, Canada offered Jolene a state-approved death. A lethal injection is easier to obtain than a medical referral. Killing her would be easier than treating her. And the system calls that compassion.

Bureaucracy replaces medicine

Jolene’s story is not an outlier. It is the logical outcome of a system that cannot keep its promises. When the machinery of socialized medicine breaks down, the state simply replaces care with a final, irreversible “solution.” A bureaucratic checkbox becomes the last decision of a person’s life.

Canada insists its process is rigorous, humane, and safeguarded. Yet the bureaucracy now reviewing Jolene’s case is not asking how she can receive treatment; it is asking whether she has enough signatures to qualify for a lethal injection. And the debate among Canadian officials is not how to preserve life, but whether she has met the paperwork threshold to end it.

This is the dark inversion that always emerges when the state claims the power to decide when life is no longer worth living. Bureaucracy replaces conscience. Eligibility criteria replace compassion. A panel of physicians replaces the family gathered at a bedside. And eventually, the “right” to die becomes an expectation — especially for those who are poor, elderly, or alone.

Joe Raedle / Staff | Getty Images

The logical end of a broken system

We ignore this lesson at our own peril. Canada’s health care system is collapsing under demographic pressure, uncontrolled migration, and the unavoidable math of government-run medicine.

When the system breaks, someone must bear the cost. MAID has become the release valve.

The ideology behind this system is already drifting south. In American medical journals and bioethics conferences, you will hear this same rhetoric. The argument is always dressed in compassion. But underneath, it reduces the value of human life to a calculation: Are you useful? Are you affordable? Are you too much of a burden?

The West was built on a conviction that every human life has inherent value. That truth gave us hospitals before it gave us universities. It gave us charity before it gave us science. It is written into the Declaration of Independence.

Canada’s MAID program reveals what happens when a country lets that foundation erode. Life becomes negotiable, and suffering becomes a justification for elimination.

A society that no longer recognizes the value of life will not long defend freedom, dignity, or moral order. If compassion becomes indistinguishable from convenience, and if medicine becomes indistinguishable from euthanasia, the West will have abandoned the very principles that built it. That is the lesson from our northern neighbor — a warning, not a blueprint.

This article originally appeared on TheBlaze.com.

A Sharia enclave is quietly taking root in America. It's time to wake up.

NOVA SAFO / Staff | Getty Images

Sharia-based projects like the Meadow in Texas show how political Islam grows quietly, counting on Americans to stay silent while an incompatible legal system takes root.

Apolitical system completely incompatible with the Constitution is gaining ground in the United States, and we are pretending it is not happening.

Sharia — the legal and political framework of Islam — is being woven into developments, institutions, and neighborhoods, including a massive project in Texas. And the consequences will be enormous if we continue to look the other way.

This is the contradiction at the heart of political Islam: It claims universal authority while insisting its harshest rules will never be enforced here. That promise does not stand up to scrutiny. It never has.

Before we can have an honest debate, we’d better understand what Sharia represents. Sharia is not simply a set of religious rules about prayer or diet. It is a comprehensive legal and political structure that governs marriage, finance, criminal penalties, and civic life. It is a parallel system that claims supremacy wherever it takes hold.

This is where the distinction matters. Many Muslims in America want nothing to do with Sharia governance. They came here precisely because they lived under it. But political Islam — the movement that seeks to implement Sharia as law — is not the same as personal religious belief.

It is a political ideology with global ambitions, much like communism. Secretary of State Marco Rubio recently warned that Islamist movements do not seek peaceful coexistence with the West. They seek dominance. History backs him up.

How Sharia arrives

Political Islam does not begin with dramatic declarations. It starts quietly, through enclaves that operate by their own rules. That is why the development once called EPIC City — now rebranded as the Meadow — is so concerning. Early plans framed it as a Muslim-only community built around a mega-mosque and governed by Sharia-compliant financing. After state investigations were conducted, the branding changed, but the underlying intent remained the same.

Developers have openly described practices designed to keep non-Muslims out, using fees and ownership structures to create de facto religious exclusivity. This is not assimilation. It is the construction of a parallel society within a constitutional republic.

The warning from those who have lived under it

Years ago, local imams in Texas told me, without hesitation, that certain Sharia punishments “just work.” They spoke about cutting off hands for theft, stoning adulterers, and maintaining separate standards of testimony for men and women. They insisted it was logical and effective while insisting they would never attempt to implement it in Texas.

But when pressed, they could not explain why a system they consider divinely mandated would suddenly stop applying once someone crossed a border.

This is the contradiction at the heart of political Islam: It claims universal authority while insisting its harshest rules will never be enforced here. That promise does not stand up to scrutiny. It never has.

AASHISH KIPHAYET / Contributor | Getty Images

America is vulnerable

Europe is already showing us where this road leads. No-go zones, parallel courts, political intimidation, and clerics preaching supremacy have taken root across major cities.

America’s strength has always come from its melting pot, but assimilation requires boundaries. It requires insisting that the Constitution, not religious law, is the supreme authority on this soil.

Yet we are becoming complacent, even fearful, about saying so. We mistake silence for tolerance. We mistake avoidance for fairness. Meanwhile, political Islam views this hesitation as weakness.

Religious freedom is one of America’s greatest gifts. Muslims may worship freely here, as they should. But political Islam must not be permitted to plant a flag on American soil. The Constitution cannot coexist with a system that denies equal rights, restricts speech, subordinates women, and places clerical authority above civil law.

Wake up before it is too late

Projects like the Meadow are not isolated. They are test runs, footholds, proofs of concept. Political Islam operates with patience. It advances through demographic growth, legal ambiguity, and cultural hesitation — and it counts on Americans being too polite, too distracted, or too afraid to confront it.

We cannot afford that luxury. If we fail to defend the principles that make this country free, we will one day find ourselves asking how a parallel system gained power right in front of us. The answer will be simple: We looked away.

The time to draw boundaries and to speak honestly is now. The time to defend the Constitution as the supreme law of the land is now. Act while there is still time.

This article originally appeared on TheBlaze.com.

Why do Americans feel so empty?

Mario Tama / Staff | Getty Images

Anxiety, anger, and chronic dissatisfaction signal a country searching for meaning. Without truth and purpose, politics becomes a dangerous substitute for identity.

We have built a world overflowing with noise, convenience, and endless choice, yet something essential has slipped out of reach. You can sense it in the restless mood of the country, the anxiety among young people who cannot explain why they feel empty, in the angry confusion that dominates our politics.

We have more wealth than any nation in history, but the heart of the culture feels strangely malnourished. Before we can debate debt or elections, we must confront the reality that we created a world of things, but not a world of purpose.

You cannot survive a crisis you refuse to name, and you cannot rebuild a world whose foundations you no longer understand.

What we are living through is not just economic or political dysfunction. It is the vacuum that appears when a civilization mistakes abundance for meaning.

Modern life is stuffed with everything except what the human soul actually needs. We built systems to make life faster, easier, and more efficient — and then wondered why those systems cannot teach our children who they are, why they matter, or what is worth living for.

We tell the next generation to chase success, influence, and wealth, turning childhood into branding. We ask kids what they want to do, not who they want to be. We build a world wired for dopamine rather than dignity, and then we wonder why so many people feel unmoored.

When everything is curated, optimized, and delivered at the push of a button, the question “what is my life for?” gets lost in the static.

The crisis beneath the headlines

It is not just the young who feel this crisis. Every part of our society is straining under the weight of meaninglessness.

Look at the debt cycle — the mathematical fate no civilization has ever escaped once it crosses a threshold that we seem to have already blown by. While ordinary families feel the pressure, our leaders respond with distraction, with denial, or by rewriting the very history that could have warned us.

You cannot survive a crisis you refuse to name, and you cannot rebuild a world whose foundations you no longer understand.

We have entered a cultural moment where the noise is so loud that it drowns out the simplest truths. We are living in a country that no longer knows how to hear itself think.

So people go searching. Some drift toward the false promise of socialism, some toward the empty thrill of rebellion. Some simply check out. When a culture forgets what gives life meaning, it becomes vulnerable to every ideology that offers a quick answer.

The quiet return of meaning

And yet, quietly, something else is happening. Beneath the frustration and cynicism, many Americans are recognizing that meaning does not come from what we own, but from what we honor. It does not rise from success, but from virtue. It does not emerge from noise, but from the small, sacred things that modern life has pushed to the margins — the home, the table, the duty you fulfill, the person you help when no one is watching.

The danger is assuming that this rediscovery happens on its own. It does not.

Reorientation requires intention. It requires rebuilding the habits and virtues that once held us together. It requires telling the truth about our history instead of rewriting it to fit today’s narratives. And it requires acknowledging what has been erased: that meaning is inseparable from God’s presence in a nation’s life.

Harold M. Lambert / Contributor | Getty Images

Where renewal begins

We have built a world without stillness, and then we wondered why no one can hear the questions that matter. Those questions remain, whether we acknowledge them or not. They do not disappear just because we drown them in entertainment or noise. They wait for us, and the longer we ignore them, the more disoriented we become.

Meaning is still available. It is found in rebuilding the smallest, most human spaces — the places that cannot be digitized, globalized, or automated. The home. The family. The community.

These are the daily virtues that do not trend on social media, but that hold a civilization upright. If we want to repair this country, we begin there, exactly where every durable civilization has always begun: one virtue at a time, one tradition at a time, one generation at a time.

This article originally appeared on TheBlaze.com.