+ An article in this morning's NY Times, "Moving Through Grief: One Note at a Time," tells the story of jazz artist Jimmy Greene who has composed a new recording based on his life after the murder of his 6 year old daughter, Ana Marquez-Greene, on December 14, 2012. She was one of the children slaughtered at the Sandy Hook Elementary School in Newtown, CT. "Slowly, Mr Greene said, the spirit of Ana's beautiful life began comforting and inspiring him to begin writing music again. Then there were the many musician friends, such as Harry Connick, Jr., who helped console him. The result is a new album called, appropriately, "Beautiful Life," a work inspired by and dedicated to Ana's life." (check it out @ http://www. nytimes.com/ 2013/10/18/nyregion/grieving-father-finds-an-outlet-in-his-music.html?adxnnl=1&ref=todayspaper&adxnnlx=1382116564-aECU0MaNMoD+iUQfN3AcNQ) This artist - and his music - point to the yearning of the human soul in search of a truth greater than grief. I also see a need for community to help carry a load too great for any one individual and people ready, willing and able to love a friend through their wound on the way to redemption. I see the symbol of the cross alive and well here.
+Two new movies - 12 Years of Slavery and All Is Lost - speak of chaos and tragedy as well as the spirit of individuals to cling to life, creativity and hope even in the midst of unimaginable suffering. (check it out @ http://www. nytimes.com/2013/10/18/movies/all-is-lost-with-robert-redford-at-sea.html?ref=todayspaper) A similar theme might be found in "Captain Phillips" and even "The Fifth Estate." There seems to be a quest to acknowledge the chaos of our time as well as a deep human urge to bring order and even meaning into our fear and confusion. I discern something like the exodus story at work in each of the motion pictures.
+ In other forms of music, however, our culture seems to celebrate sensuality over solidarity power over compassion at the same time some are giving voice to protest and a thirst for community. In visual art there is clearly a battle taking place between those who are committed to radical autonomy and those seeking beauty in pursuit of truth and goodness.
+ As I was sitting the waiting room this morning while Di saw her physical therapist (pain in her neck and shoulders), I outlined an emerging set list for our November 27th Thanksgiving Eve benefit for emergency fuel heating assistance in our region. In addition to giving maximum room for the guest artists to do their thing - with or without back-up support from our band and singers - it is not coincidental that my selection of songs speak to the symbols found in beauty, trust, redemption and community in the midst of chaos, yes?
I am thinking that we'll begin a mostly acoustic version of Smokey Robinson and the Miracles 1962 song, "You Really Got a Hold on Me." I want it to have a down and dirty feel with major emphasis on the vocal harmonies. In some upside down way, it speaks to my understanding that even when we want to quit and throw in the towel, there is a love greater than even our imagination that calls us deeper. From there, we'll do my rewrite of something I once heard the Eagles do back in their first concerts - an a capella country gospel lament - that will lead us into the Travelling Wilbury's "End of the Line." Then we'll welcome and pray together before singing another a capella take on "Amazing Grace."
There are a few other tunes that will be a part of this show, too: one of the finest local vocalists will do a soulful take on "From a Distance," I think we'll have some of children sing Aaron Copeland's "Bought Me a Cat," our young guitar wizards will have a chance to shine on the Hendrix version of "All Along the Watchtower," Di wants to bring tribute to the great Linda Ronstadt who can no longer sing with "Long, Long Time" and we'll wrap things up with Melanie's "Candles in the Rain." (And close with the Band's "The Weight.")
These book ends - filled in the middle with guest performer's tunes - are both tons of fun to perform AND speak to building a safe place in the midst of our darkness. Tillich once said that while he thought the time right after WWI was a "kairos" moment for changing human relationships, it turned out to be more of a vacuum - a sacred void - where all we could do was endure and wait upon the Lord.
Those who read this blog regularly know that is often my sense of our times, too. And at the same time, I believe we have been given the freedom, creativity and beauty to explore new connections and hope even in the void. Like the visual artist, Mako Fujimura, I can't change the culture. I can barely change myself. But I can contribute to redeeming the culture and strengthening the ties that bind in ways that embody beauty and hope.
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