New/Old Music

Tuesday, May 28, three interesting cds were released – interesting to me, anyway. Paul McCartney re-released his early solo live album “Wings Over America,” about which I intend to write more soon. John Fogerty, who some may know as the lead singer for Creedence Clearwater Revival, released “Wrote a Song for Everyone.” Finally, Columbia released a cd “Bennett/Brubeck: The White House Sessions, Live 1962.”
Fogerty’s cd is fascinating. It primarily recycles older material, but with guest artists helping out on the songs. Bob Seger joins on “Who’ll Stop the Rain.” “Fortunate Son,” a strong rock song in the original is made even more blistering backed by the Foo Fighters. Country singer Alan Jackson sings with Fogerty on “Have You Ever Seen Rain.” The list goes on. The recording received rave reviews from Rolling Stone – “a testament to the continuing truth and power in Fogerty’s greatest hits.” Others did not think so highly of it. Some consider the cd a “dumbing down” of the songs.
The Bennett and Brubeck cd was discovered in a vault at Columbia records. The 1962 concert was held at the base of the Washington Monument, and it honored college students who had come to Washington, D. C. to work for the summer. President John Kennedy had met earlier in the day with the students. It was the only time Tony Bennett and Dave Brubeck made music together until the Newport Jazz Festival in 2009. Dave Brubeck died earlier this year.
I love that these two cds came out on the same day – old music made new, voices and instruments from the past reconnecting with heart and soul. Bennett and Brubeck swing their music in a way that typically brings a smile to my face. Their optimistic beat seemed perfect for a more optimistic time. Yet even now we need a little lift, a little hope, and this music brings that to me.
For a long time, I have appreciated John Fogerty’s songs and his singing. His voice seems to come out of the night, a sometimes dark night where our dreams and fears collide. His songs ponder pertinent questions. “Who’ll stop the rain?” “Have you ever seen the rain?” They identify unfairness – the favor given fortunate sons. They present more personal issues. One song on this new cd that I had not given much attention before provides the title for the cd. “I wrote a song for everyone, wrote a song for truth. Wrote a song for everyone, but I couldn’t even talk to you.”
In my life I need the joyous, buoyant hope I hear in Bennett and Brubeck. I need to be reminded of the complexities of life. I need to ask tough questions and confront the tensions in living. I need to be able to reach into the resources of the past – words written, songs sung, feelings felt, ideas thought – to make my way into the future.

With Faith and With Feathers,

David

Gregory Wolfe’s Editorial Statement in the latest issue of Image led me to this quote that I thought worth sharing:

The reason to read Blake and Dickinson and Freud and Dickens is not to become more cultivated or articulate…. The best reason to read them is to see if they may know you better than you know yourself. You may find your own suppressed and rejected thoughts flowing back to you with an “alienated majesty.”
Mark Edumundson

With Faith and With Feathers,

David

Roots and Wings

There is a saying that the best gift we can give our children is roots to grow on and wings to fly. I don’t know who said it, but it makes a lot of sense to me.
On Friday, May 3, Julie and I sat with two of our children, David and Sarah in the beautiful State Theater in downtown Minneapolis. My mother and her husband were there as were Julie’s cousin, David and his wife Sharon. We were in this wonderful place because it was where the University of Minnesota Medical School was holding its graduation, and our daughter Beth was graduating.
Finishing medical school has been the culmination of ten years of post-high school education. Beth was in college for five years because she was a college swimmer. She took five years for her medical education because she wanted to spend a year abroad. She spent her time in Sweden, India and Uganda. It was in Uganda that she finally decided to specialize in ob/gyn medicine. She wants to help women take care of their health as a way to make the world a better place.
I was a deeply proud parent that day, as were all the parents there, I am sure. It was a particularly special day because our family was together. Through the day, I could not help but reflect on where life has taken each of our children, think about what each has chosen or is choosing to do.
David is working in juvenile corrections, working with kids who have messed up to see if they can get their lives on a better track. He retains a deep passion for politics because he wants the political processes in this country to work to make the world more just. Sarah was admitted into the physical therapy program at St. Catherine University this winter. She chose to be a physical therapist, in part, because she saw her older sister work through a broken hip. She wants to bring a little healing to the world.
Our children are their own people. They have made these decisions for their lives. I am proud of what they are doing. I admire who they are and who they are becoming. They are not perfect. They have made mistakes along the way, but I am proud to be their father.
I hope in some way, Julie and I have given them some strong roots for making good decisions about who they will be. I hope we have given them some wings for flying. As I grow older and consider what my life has been, I hope that I can say that David, Beth and Sarah had some solid roots, some strong wings, and rejoice that they are doing some wonderful things with them.

With Faith and With Feathers,

David

A Prayer

Yesterday, I participated in a worship service marking the passage of a state law here in Minnesota which will allow same-sex couples to get married.
Here is the prayer I prayed:

God, Creative and Creating Spirit, whose nature and name is love, we have gathered together tonight with joyful and humble hearts. There is joy in that we believe justice has been done, that compassion has been embodied, that love has become law, that the beloved community is a little more real today. There is humility, for we know how long the road has been, and we know there are significant tasks ahead. Laws are important, but laws by themselves don’t change hearts. There is heart work to be done as we move toward the beloved community. There are those who have been wounded along the way, and those whose disagreement with this new law is like an irritating pebble in the soul. There is soul work to be done as we move toward the beloved community. The same scriptures which enjoin us to do justice, encourage us to love our enemies. Love’s work toward the beloved community is not yet done. With humble hearts we ask for tender strength and gentle courage to continue the journey toward the beloved community - where compassion reigns, where justice is done, where in love we recognize the common humanity of all, and where we acknowledge our shared dependence upon the earth itself. Amen.

With Faith and With Feathers,

David

Boston Bombs and a Dog's Death

It has been a helluva week. It has been a week filled with sadness.
Sunday afternoon, I went to a local nursing home to lead a worship service. One of my parishioners is a resident there and I planned to visit with her if I did not see her at the service. Walking in, I saw her daughter, a woman who lives in the Twin Cities. I suspected that she might not have such good news about her mom, and that was the case. Her mom had taken a turn for the worse a couple of days prior and this time, she was not going to pull through. I visited my parishioner following the worship service. She died later that night.
Monday, the joy and delight of the Boston Marathon were punctuated by two bombs planted near the finish line. Three people have died and more than one hundred were hospitalized. A woman from my church ran the marathon and thankfully she and her family were o.k. We are all deeply troubled and saddened by what has happened. At the end of the day, I returned home to find that one of our dogs, Grace (Abby is the other, both poodle/Pomeranian mix) was not doing so well. She had vomited a couple of times, but this had happened before. She has a sensitive stomach
Tuesday afternoon I received a phone call that another parishioner had been admitted into hospice. Death is immanent, though she is still hanging on as I write.
Tuesday evening, coming home after the hospital visit, Grace’s condition had deteriorated. She had been vomiting all day. She seemed especially weak. If she was not doing better the next morning I would take her to the vet.
Wednesday morning it was clear that Grace was not doing better. I would bring her to her vet when they opened at 7:30 a.m. We never made it. She died in my arms at 6 a.m.
Comparing the death of a dog to human death, or even the loss of a limb is nonsensical, though over the years I have come to the conclusions that it never makes sense to compare grief. Every instance of grief has its own dynamic and intensity for the person experiencing it.
Grace was not yet six years old. In her short, happy life, she shared a lot of gifts with us. She shared unconditional love, and I was the fortunate recipient of much of that (though she could be a bit of a pest sometimes). She followed me wherever I went in the house. When she needed to go out, she sought me out to take her. Yet she was always waiting when I came home, and never failed to dance a bit with excitement. Grace was an exuberant dog. She did dances for her treats. She loved to play. Grace had a big heart. Weighing in at about six and a half pounds, she barked “fiercely” at threats, and we were always concerned that if she got loose she would chase after a deer. Grace offered warmth and affection. She enjoyed cuddling. She was a licker.
It is not fair to compare the loss of human life, or even human limb, to the loss of a dog. I don’t want to do that. Though when sadness comes, wave upon wave in death, destruction, and loss, the gifts a pet can bring are treasured, and when she is gone, they are missed terribly.

To live in this world

You must be able
to do three things:
to love what is mortal,
to hold it

against your bones knowing
your own life depends on it;
and, when the time comes to let it go,
to let it go.

Mary Oliver, “In Blackwater Woods”

With Faith and With Feathers,

David

Movie Music

Obviously blogging was not among my Lenten disciplines. Here it is, just days before Holy Week and I have maybe blogged once since the beginning of Lent.
I have, however, worked on my taxes, beginning them a couple of weeks ago, and just finishing up the rough draft today. One more review before I send them in. I know, I am a Luddite when it comes to taxes – still using a calculator and a pencil.
So the Sunday afternoon that I began this year’s tax journey, I thought some quiet music would be in order. Awhile back I had purchased a cd set “Hollywood Hits: 70 Years of Memorable Movie Music.” It was quite reasonable priced at Half Price Books. The three cds were: (1) Movie Themes; (2) Oscar Winners; and (3) Musicals. There was also a briefer fourth cd primarily with live versions of a few movie songs, though it also included Dooley Wilson “As Time Goes By.”
I gather all the necessary information, sharpen my pencil, hit play, and begin. Preparing the returns is its typical laborious experience, but the music – the music is wonderful. There is an emotional connection with some of the songs. With some, I can almost see scenes from the movie (side-by-side with mortgage interest numbers). I can remember late nights watching some of these films on the late show when it was summer and I did not have to get up for school the next day. As “Days of Wine and Roses” is playing, I recall the incredible sadness I felt watching that movie for the first time. When Kermit the Frog sings “Rainbow Connection” I remember watching “The Muppet Movie” with my children. Some of the songs simply evoked another time, another place, another me. Hearing the movie theme from “The Odd Couple” I recalled watching television re-runs after school. Listening to the theme from M*A*S*H brought me back to college and seminary days. I remember gathering around the community television for the final episode of M*A*S*H at my seminary apartment building.
After a couple of days, I began thinking about how powerful music and movies can be in shaping us. “Brian’s Song” taught me something about multi-cultural sensitivity before I had any idea what that was. “The Days of Wine and Roses” powerfully portrays the devastation of addiction. Often movies and music do little more than distract or entertain, but they have the capacity to shape us, to bring certain narrative threads to our lives.
Then I began to consider how much more complicated sharing the Christian story can be in a multi-storied world. How do we deal with these other narratives that are present in our culture?
Some would choose to isolate themselves from the wider culture. At the extreme end of this strategy would be the Amish. I went to high school with a young man whose church forbid watching television. Honestly, I think we would all do well to critically monitor our media intake. Some of it may not be worth our time and attention.
However, I don’t think this is a terribly realistic strategy. It also ignores an important theological idea - that the Spirit can be at work in unique places and mysterious ways. We would do better, I think, to find places where the culture helps us tell our story. There is something about hope, courage and determination to be learned when the prisoner Papillon whispers up from his prison cell, “I’m still here, you bastards.” Caring community and openness to new cultural experiences are beautifully portrayed in the film, “The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel.” The Harry Potter film series does a wonderful job of depicting friendship and sacrifice for others. I always found it odd that some Christians were so spooked by the “magic” that they missed the underlying themes, many of which are deeply compatible with Christian faith. The most ironic instance of missing the boat was a mother I knew who was concerned about letting her daughter see or read Harry Potter, but thought nothing of taking her to a Brittany Spears concert.
I intend to keep watching and listening, learning along the way, thinking critically and theologically, though sometimes probably just enjoying the ride.

With Faith and With Feathers,

David

Lingering

Do you have to let it linger?
The Cranberries

Three days after Ash Wednesday, there remain on my hands small places where I can still see traces of the ashes from that night. They linger.
The season of Lent is a bit about lingering, about slowing down, about listening intently for God’s voice in the rush and din of our day to day lives, about taking some time away from those lives to listen. Perhaps it is also about being willing to linger with some of our own experiences.
Not long ago, in Stephen Mitchell’s The Gospel According to Jesus I came across Mitchell’s translation of the original version of Rilke’s Tenth Duino Elegy (p. 159). It is about lingering.

How dear you will be to me, then, you nights
of anguish. Why didn’t I kneel more deeply to accept you,
inconsolable sisters, and, surrendering, lose myself
in your loosened hair. How we squander our hours of pain.
How we gaze beyond them into the bitter duration
to see if they have an end. Though they are really
seasons of us, our winter-
enduring foliage, ponds, meadows, our inborn landscape,
where birds and reed-dwelling creatures are at home.

We need not search out difficult experiences nor suppose that God creates difficulty and pain so we can learn from it. Pain and difficulty will come. Joan Chittister puts it simply and well – “no one goes through life unscathed” (Called To Question, 224). What might we learn and how might we grow if we linger with such experiences, even if only for a while?

With Faith and With Feathers,

David