With a few clunker notes added to assure grounding and humility, last night's "Evening of Music, Poetry and Solidarity with Berkshire Interfaith Organizing" was a screaming delight. In these frightened, angry and polarized times, it is a rare event, indeed, for poets to join musicians from the realms of jazz, rock, folk, religious, pop, and Latino and create a seamless whole. In another era, long ago and far away, you might have heard such an eclectic mix on late night FM radio: who can recall the glory days of Scott Muni or Allison Steele, the Night Bird? Sadly, in 2019 ours has become a highly segregated assortment of niche markets with hyper-defined tastes, cultures, attitudes, and habits.Perhaps that is why I continue to "curate" these encounters: not only do they reclaim the dream of a Beloved community, they give us real time experience in what such a dream might feel like for our era. As is my want, before each show, I gather all the artists together in our faux "green room" for a few words of encouragement. Last night this was particularly important because there were so many new participants to the tribe: organizer/musicians from Guatemala, young evangelicals and old school Christians from the side line denominations, Catholics and Jews, poets of vastly different backgrounds, rockers, jazz cats, classically trained pros alongside young students, as well as precious old friends who have been joining me in these shows for twelve years. After we each told the others our names, I tried to put the night into context:
The room we were standing in is devoid of furniture and appointments. It is a stairwell, actually, so the sound ascends. You could feel the openness taking place as we sang alleluia a capella - and for the last four measures the once disparate crowd became a choir and spontaneously broke into harmony. Pure grace. Deep beauty. As the chorus came to a close, we paused in silence before I said, "This is what Jacob confessed: Surely the Lord was in this place and I... I did not know."
And it kept getting better from there. Who knew that Juan Pablo Morales, an organizer from the Bronx, would sing like a seasoned opera star? Who knew that each of the poets - Stan Spencer, Rose Oliver, Curtis Elfenbien, Dainne De Mott and Melissa Quirk Cairns - would tear our hearts open and heal them again with their tears and words? Who knew that the Gypsy Jazz Ambassadors would bring both the songs of Django Reinhart and "The Sound of Music" to the gig? Or that Ethan Wesley would tear it up on his solo during "Come Together." Or that Dave McDermott would channel the presence of John Lennon in his vocal AND George Harrison with his guitar? Or that my rewrite of an old Bob Marley song, "We Don't Need No More Trouble" would become transcendent as Eileen, Charlie and Andy added their magic to the band's excellent groove? Or that the harmonies would really come together? Or that our closer, "The Rising," would take on a layered and nuanced call to action beyond its original intent? The final count is not yet in, but were looking at $1,500+ for the sanctuary and immigrant initiative. For this, I am grateful. But of equal importance, I give thanks to God that the roughly 100 people helped create a place of tenderness in this world of sorrow and fear. Thank you First Church. Thank you BIO. Thank you Bill Yehele. Thank you Dream Center Worship Team. And a huge thank you to Rob Dumais, the maestro of the sound board, for your loving commitment to these projects.
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