Mairzy Doats
by Milton Drake, Al Hoffman and Jerry Livingston
Mairzy doats and dozy doats and liddle lamzy divey
A kiddley divey too, wooden shoe?
Mairzy doats and dozy doats and liddle lamzy divey
A kiddley divey too, wooden shoe?
Wow. Both spell-check and grammar-check on Word are lit up like a Christmas tree. Just about every word is flagged. But what the heck: it’s Fun-Time Friday! And more than that, today only comes around every four years. Happy Leap Day, everyone! My daughter’s step-sister is “six” today: happy birthday, Jessica!
Today’s song was a huge hit in the 1940’s (more on that in a bit). It was on everyone’s lips for years and, I think, still permeates our collective consciousness today. The bouncy little tune plays a perfect counterpoint to the nonsensical syllables. As the singer repeats them over and over, we begin to wonder: Did they swallow too much Pepsodent? Should they switch to Sanka? Are they speaking in tongues? But then the bridge of the song makes it all clear:
If the words sound queer and funny to your ear, a little bit jumbled and jivey,
Sing "Mares eat oats and does eat oats and little lambs eat ivy."
And, armed with that knowledge, we can figure out for ourselves that, “A kid’ll eat ivy, too. Wouldn’t you?"
My cousin and I were driving through Fort Worth several years ago. We passed a church and the marquée read:
JUDGE NOTY OUR FRIEND
UNTIL YOU STAND IN HIS PLACE
Undeterred by the curious grammatical construction, I envisioned Judge Noty, a fine, upstanding member of the church, probably a deacon or elder. He was most likely retiring from the bench and they were having a “Judge Noty Day” at church. I could almost smell the fried chicken from the dinner on the grounds when my cousin remarked that those were good words to remember. Seeing my quizzical expression, she explained that the letters on the sign had moved and that it was an admonition to “Judge not your friend . . .”
Mark Twain said, “The difference between the right word and the almost right word is the difference between lightning and a lightning bug.” British author Lynne Truss takes a “zero tolerance approach to punctuation” in her best-selling book, Eats, Shoots & Leaves. Given that she approaches her subject matter so seriously, I was delighted to find that the book is enormously entertaining. Here’s how she explains the book’s title.
A panda walks into a café. He orders a sandwich, eats it, then draws a gun and fires two shots in the air.
"Why?" asks the confused waiter, as the panda makes towards the exit. The panda produces a badly punctuated wildlife manual and tosses it over his shoulder.
"I'm a panda," he says at the door. "Look it up."
The waiter turns to the relevant entry and, sure enough, finds an explanation.
"Panda. Large black-and-white bear-like mammal, native to China. Eats, shoots and leaves."
So punctuation really does matter, even if it is only occasionally a matter of life and death.
Ms Truss’ book is filled with such examples. I’ll play optometrist on this one. Is it better like this?
A woman without her man is nothing.
Or like this?
A woman! Without her, man is nothing.
The inspiration for Mairzy Doats came from an English nursery rhyme that begins, “Cowzy tweet and sowzy tweet and liddle sharksy doisters.” (Isn’t it amazing that, now that you know the “secret” to the song, the whole “Cowzy tweet” line becomes easily readable? Kind of like in The Matrix when those guys could see the whole big picture just by looking at those green letters and numbers.) Milton Drake’s four-year old daughter came home from school one day, saying the rhyme. Mr Drake and his buddies, Messrs Hoffman and Livingston, first just set the “cowzy tweet” verse to music, but then decided to write new lyrics instead.
I understand that the earliest versions of the New Testament (in Greek) were also punctuational nightmares – as is this sentence, I suppose. There were no periods, commas, or carriage returns (remember those?). Sometimes, even spaces between the Greek words were lacking. Thanks be to God for the painstaking effort of the scribes and monks who also “saw the whole big picture”. They parsed and punctuated, set verses and chapters, and even found time to illustrate the pages. It’s amazing, though, that the beginning of John’s gospel is crystal clear: no punctuation was needed – “In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God and the Word was God.”
Mairzy Doats was recorded by “Al Trace and his Silly Symphonists” in 1943. Then, it went all the way to number one with a recording by the “Merry Macs” in 1944. Spike Jones, of course, could not leave well enough alone, and his band’s version gilded the lily with their trademark sound effects. The song lifted the spirits of servicemen in World War II. What I find really fascinating is that phrases from the song were used as passwords in the War. Who else but a Yank (or maybe a Brit) would have any idea of the proper response?
We were blessed to have Rev. Will Robinson back at church this week. Will was an Associate Pastor a few years ago and he is now working on his PhD at Union Seminary in Richmond. Will spoke at our noontime Lenten Series about “The Holy Spirit.” It was a great talk, and it got me thinking about how we sometimes give the Holy Spirit the short end of the stick – even in my charisma-laden hometown of Tulsa.
It does seem that we often punctuate the Trinity as:
FATHER, SON . . . andholyghost.
I know that the Holy Spirit isn’t mentioned as often by name in the Bible, but He is what makes it a “Trinity”, after all, and not just a “Duality”. Some theologians refer to the Holy Spirit as the “shy” member of the Trinity, but when Jesus tells his disciples (and us) that “you shall receive power when the Holy Spirit comes”, I believe the word He uses for “power” is the same one where we get our word “dynamite.” Maybe, as Mr Twain might say, it’s time we learned to distinguish between a lightning bug and lightning when it comes to the Holy Spirit. May the Lord bless you this weekend:
Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.
Amen.
Friday, February 29, 2008
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Happy Talk
Happy Talk
lyrics by Oscar Hammerstein II
music by Richard Rodgers
You got to have a dream, if you don't have a dream
How you gonna have a dream come true?
– Bloody Mary in South Pacific
Words to live by, if you ask me. To some extent, it’s ridiculously simple; kind of like one of Steve Martin’s earlier routines when he said, “I’m going to share with you the secret of how to be a millionaire. First, get a million dollars.” But Dr Martin Luther King, Jr also knew the importance of a dream. When he told America and the world, “I have a dream”, it inspired us all to awaken from our slumber and give that dream flesh and bone.
In another discipline, if you’ll permit me, British cook Nigella Lawson presents this axiom: “The most important part of cooking your turkey is shopping for it.” I think she is also getting at the importance of starting out with the ideal. Of course, we know all about the power of dreams in the Bible. So, in that rich tradition, from Joseph to the Magi to St Peter to Dr King to Mr Martin to Ms Lawson, let’s hear what Oscar Hammerstein has to say:
Happy talk, keep talking happy talk
Talk about things you like to do
You got to have a dream, if you don't have a dream
How you gonna have a dream come true?
South Pacific, the Pulitzer Prize winning musical by Richard Rodgers and Oscar Hammerstein, burst onto the scene in 1948, just two short years after the publication of its source material, Tales of the South Pacific, by James Michener (itself a Pulitzer Prize winner). Come to think of it, Mr Michener’s Tales about military life during World War II, came just one short year after the Enola Gay, Fat Man and Little Boy (or Little Man and Fat Boy – I never can remember which). Wow, those guys knew how to turn out the material back then. (And by “guys”, I’m talking about the artistic guys, not the guys at Oak Ridge and Alamogordo, although I guess they worked pretty well under pressure, themselves.)
The musical South Pacific, while still adhering to the norms of the musical comedy format (now here’s an amazing thing: this “norm” was established only a mere six years earlier and arose from Messrs Rodgers and Hammerstein’s landmark Oklahoma!, which reset the compass for every musical to follow), nevertheless addressed some pretty hot issues for the time: racism, racial relations, and the excesses of war. Today’s song is sung by Bloody Mary, a Pacific Islander who trades with the sailors stationed on the surrounding islands during the War. English is her second language and she says that she will “speak English as good as any crummy Marine.” In another great song from the show, the sailors sing, “Bloody Mary is the girl I love, her skin is tender as DiMaggio's glove.” (Sorry for the gratuitous baseball reference, but you know me.) I also like Bloody Mary because she is the consummate entrepreneur, but on the occasion of this song, she is trying to get her daughter and Lt Joe Cable to fall in love:
Talk about the moon floating in the sky
Looking at a lily on the lake
Talk about a bird learning how to fly
Making all the music he can make!
Keep talking and dreaming, because I think, to some extent, you do see what you’re looking for. At the 9:30 service on Sunday, Jim showed a picture of a stretch of road in Illinois. A woman and her son were driving and saw what they believed to be the face of Jesus in the potholes and cracks. They took a picture of it and now it’s all over the internet. History is full of these examples – I even remember the Lord showing up on someone’s piece of toast a couple of years ago. Actually, it might have been Rush Limbaugh, now that I think about it. But you know what I mean. The cool thing in church Sunday was that Jim looked at the picture of the road, with a string of telephone poles alongside, and saw crosses. That’s where I want to get to – where I see the right things in everything.
Happy talk, keep talking happy talk
Talk about things you like to do
You got to have a dream, if you don't have a dream
How you gonna have a dream come true?
The film version of South Pacific was released in 1958. Do you remember when Ted Turner was colorizing all those old movies several years ago? You don’t hear so much about it anymore, but it was a big deal back then. People were up in arms and Mr Turner, characteristically, was throwing his weight around anyway. I always thought it was a waste of time, at best (and, at worst, flat-out vandalism to those films that had been crafted to look a certain way in black and white). But I was willing to make one exception: if they could re-colorize the musical numbers in South Pacific back to a more natural look, I’d be a happy man. If you’ve ever seen the film version, you know that, for some unfathomable reason, the film’s creative team thought it would be “artistic” to shoot each musical number through a different colored filter. Boy, does it get on your nerves! I envision some hapless janitor at the studio one night bumping the “Color” lever up to the “Ghastly” setting, Looney Tunes style. But I was reading a while back that the 50th-Anniversary DVD release of the film does contain reworked musical numbers that are more in keeping with colors found in nature. Don’t you just love technology when it works! But we’re here to have “happy talk” today. Let’s continue.
Talk about the sparrow looking like a toy
Peeking through the branches of a tree
Talk about the girl, talk about the boy
Counting all the ripples on the sea
Sparrows – I’m reminded of Matthew 6:26 – “Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they?” Jesus has just spelled it all out in His “Sermon on the Mount”. He’s set the bar very high. But, as we come to end to Matthew 6, Jesus ends with some very “happy talk.” We can dream big because of the Father’s deep love for us. And here’s a really great thing: no matter what we can dream, the Lord has even greater things in store. St Paul picks up on this idea when he quotes the prophet Isaiah:
However, as it is written:
"What no eye has seen,what no ear has heard, and what no human mind has conceived—
these things God has prepared for those who love him."
– 1 Corinthians 2:9 (quoting Isaiah 64:4)
Bloody Mary has it right, too:
Talk about the boy saying to the girl
Golly, baby, I'm a lucky cuss
Talk about the girl saying to the boy
You an' me is lucky to be us
There’s an older gentleman in our congregation and he carries in his wallet a laminated card with this question written on it:
What are you daring to attempt that could not be accomplished without God’s strength and intervention?
That is such a blessing to me! Dream big. Pray hard. And I think St Paul, Martin Luther King, Steve Martin, Nigella Lawson, and even Bloody Mary and Oscar Hammerstein would approve.
Happy talk, keep talking happy talk
Talk about things you like to do
You got to have a dream, if you don't have a dream
How you gonna have a dream come true?
lyrics by Oscar Hammerstein II
music by Richard Rodgers
You got to have a dream, if you don't have a dream
How you gonna have a dream come true?
– Bloody Mary in South Pacific
Words to live by, if you ask me. To some extent, it’s ridiculously simple; kind of like one of Steve Martin’s earlier routines when he said, “I’m going to share with you the secret of how to be a millionaire. First, get a million dollars.” But Dr Martin Luther King, Jr also knew the importance of a dream. When he told America and the world, “I have a dream”, it inspired us all to awaken from our slumber and give that dream flesh and bone.
In another discipline, if you’ll permit me, British cook Nigella Lawson presents this axiom: “The most important part of cooking your turkey is shopping for it.” I think she is also getting at the importance of starting out with the ideal. Of course, we know all about the power of dreams in the Bible. So, in that rich tradition, from Joseph to the Magi to St Peter to Dr King to Mr Martin to Ms Lawson, let’s hear what Oscar Hammerstein has to say:
Happy talk, keep talking happy talk
Talk about things you like to do
You got to have a dream, if you don't have a dream
How you gonna have a dream come true?
South Pacific, the Pulitzer Prize winning musical by Richard Rodgers and Oscar Hammerstein, burst onto the scene in 1948, just two short years after the publication of its source material, Tales of the South Pacific, by James Michener (itself a Pulitzer Prize winner). Come to think of it, Mr Michener’s Tales about military life during World War II, came just one short year after the Enola Gay, Fat Man and Little Boy (or Little Man and Fat Boy – I never can remember which). Wow, those guys knew how to turn out the material back then. (And by “guys”, I’m talking about the artistic guys, not the guys at Oak Ridge and Alamogordo, although I guess they worked pretty well under pressure, themselves.)
The musical South Pacific, while still adhering to the norms of the musical comedy format (now here’s an amazing thing: this “norm” was established only a mere six years earlier and arose from Messrs Rodgers and Hammerstein’s landmark Oklahoma!, which reset the compass for every musical to follow), nevertheless addressed some pretty hot issues for the time: racism, racial relations, and the excesses of war. Today’s song is sung by Bloody Mary, a Pacific Islander who trades with the sailors stationed on the surrounding islands during the War. English is her second language and she says that she will “speak English as good as any crummy Marine.” In another great song from the show, the sailors sing, “Bloody Mary is the girl I love, her skin is tender as DiMaggio's glove.” (Sorry for the gratuitous baseball reference, but you know me.) I also like Bloody Mary because she is the consummate entrepreneur, but on the occasion of this song, she is trying to get her daughter and Lt Joe Cable to fall in love:
Talk about the moon floating in the sky
Looking at a lily on the lake
Talk about a bird learning how to fly
Making all the music he can make!
Keep talking and dreaming, because I think, to some extent, you do see what you’re looking for. At the 9:30 service on Sunday, Jim showed a picture of a stretch of road in Illinois. A woman and her son were driving and saw what they believed to be the face of Jesus in the potholes and cracks. They took a picture of it and now it’s all over the internet. History is full of these examples – I even remember the Lord showing up on someone’s piece of toast a couple of years ago. Actually, it might have been Rush Limbaugh, now that I think about it. But you know what I mean. The cool thing in church Sunday was that Jim looked at the picture of the road, with a string of telephone poles alongside, and saw crosses. That’s where I want to get to – where I see the right things in everything.
Happy talk, keep talking happy talk
Talk about things you like to do
You got to have a dream, if you don't have a dream
How you gonna have a dream come true?
The film version of South Pacific was released in 1958. Do you remember when Ted Turner was colorizing all those old movies several years ago? You don’t hear so much about it anymore, but it was a big deal back then. People were up in arms and Mr Turner, characteristically, was throwing his weight around anyway. I always thought it was a waste of time, at best (and, at worst, flat-out vandalism to those films that had been crafted to look a certain way in black and white). But I was willing to make one exception: if they could re-colorize the musical numbers in South Pacific back to a more natural look, I’d be a happy man. If you’ve ever seen the film version, you know that, for some unfathomable reason, the film’s creative team thought it would be “artistic” to shoot each musical number through a different colored filter. Boy, does it get on your nerves! I envision some hapless janitor at the studio one night bumping the “Color” lever up to the “Ghastly” setting, Looney Tunes style. But I was reading a while back that the 50th-Anniversary DVD release of the film does contain reworked musical numbers that are more in keeping with colors found in nature. Don’t you just love technology when it works! But we’re here to have “happy talk” today. Let’s continue.
Talk about the sparrow looking like a toy
Peeking through the branches of a tree
Talk about the girl, talk about the boy
Counting all the ripples on the sea
Sparrows – I’m reminded of Matthew 6:26 – “Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they?” Jesus has just spelled it all out in His “Sermon on the Mount”. He’s set the bar very high. But, as we come to end to Matthew 6, Jesus ends with some very “happy talk.” We can dream big because of the Father’s deep love for us. And here’s a really great thing: no matter what we can dream, the Lord has even greater things in store. St Paul picks up on this idea when he quotes the prophet Isaiah:
However, as it is written:
"What no eye has seen,what no ear has heard, and what no human mind has conceived—
these things God has prepared for those who love him."
– 1 Corinthians 2:9 (quoting Isaiah 64:4)
Bloody Mary has it right, too:
Talk about the boy saying to the girl
Golly, baby, I'm a lucky cuss
Talk about the girl saying to the boy
You an' me is lucky to be us
There’s an older gentleman in our congregation and he carries in his wallet a laminated card with this question written on it:
What are you daring to attempt that could not be accomplished without God’s strength and intervention?
That is such a blessing to me! Dream big. Pray hard. And I think St Paul, Martin Luther King, Steve Martin, Nigella Lawson, and even Bloody Mary and Oscar Hammerstein would approve.
Happy talk, keep talking happy talk
Talk about things you like to do
You got to have a dream, if you don't have a dream
How you gonna have a dream come true?
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
One of Us
One of Us
by Eric Bazilian
If God had a Name,
what would it be and -
would you call it to His face
if you were faced with Him
in all His Glory,
what would you ask
if you had just one question . . .
Fireplug: Welcome once again to Full-of-Woe Wednesday! The format’s a little different this week because my brother (Fuelgrip Skip) and I once again find ourselves at cross-purposes – as is usually the case. He came up with today’s song, One of Us, as a candidate for one of his Least Favorite Songs. I actually had it on my list as one of my favorites. So here's a transcript of what transpired around the dinner table. Hope you enjoy the dialogue!
Fuelgrip: Right off the bat, I’m annoyed. “If God had a name . . .” Here’s a news flash: he does!
Fireplug: I think she might be alluding to the ineffable name of God and what we might feel if we came before His holy presence. Kind of like when Isaiah said, “Woe is me! for I am undone; because I am a man of unclean lips, and I dwell in the midst of a people of unclean lips: for mine eyes have seen the King, the LORD of hosts. (Isaiah 6:5)”
Fuelgrip: But she asks “What would it be?” This sounds like “oh, let’s give God a name!” It’s not like we’re going to the Animal Shelter or something. By the way, who sang this?
Fireplug: Joan Osborne had the hit. I think she was even nominated for a Grammy. I wonder what ever happened to her.
Fuelgrip: I thought it was Alanis Morrissette.
Fireplug: She did a cover of it. But then, so did Prince, Mike Meyers (as Austin Powers) and Jim Carrey in Bruce Almighty.
Fuelgrip: Ringing endorsements all. I think I can rest my case here. Do we need to continue?
Fireplug: I’m afraid we must. Let’s go on to the bridge.
Fuelgrip: Here’s a high-water mark in English poetry:
and yeah, yeah
God is great
Yeah, yeah
God is good
Yeah, yeah
yeah yeah yeah
Shakespeare, Emily Dickinson – they’re spinning like gyroscopes right about now.
Fireplug: I know it looks a little goofy on paper, but I actually found it kind of sweet. She was repeating that blessing that we all learn as children. And then the “yeah, yeah” parts kind of introduced an ironic element; like how we can get lost along the way in the culture that engulfs us.
Fuelgrip: You know, brother, you’re a good guy, but you are so gullible!
Fireplug: Really!
Fuelgrip: And I can prove it with two words. Two letters, actually – “O. J.”
Fireplug: All I ever said was that I didn’t think the prosecution had made their case.
Fuelgrip: Congratulations! The jury agreed with you! So, let’s see: that makes 13 of you in the “not guilty” camp and, in the “guilty” camp – uh, help me do the math here – what’s six billion minus 13?
Fireplug: We’re getting way off track. Let’s move on to the chorus:
What if God was one of us?
Just a slob like one of us?
Just a stranger on a bus, trying to make His
way home . . .
Fuelgrip: Now, I’m going to surprise you here, but I thought, musically, that this was a pretty good part. She’d been repeating the silly “yeah, yeah, yeah” parts, almost monotonously. And then, she pops it up an octave and belts it out on the chorus.
Fireplug: Very nicely said. And I may surprise you here, but the “slob” line always bothered me.
Fuelgrip: I just said I liked the music. The lyrics make me crazy.
Fireplug: I think she was just posing a rhetorical question. If God was one of us, how we would act? Kind of like the “entertaining angels unaware” concept.
Fuelgrip: But God was one of us. “And the Word became flesh and dwelled among us . . .”
Fireplug: True. But the chorus with its questions might be able to start a dialogue with someone on just that very topic.
Fuelgrip: I just think . . . now I remember the singer! Wasn’t she the woman that had the huge ring sticking through her nose?
Fireplug: Yes, I believe so. And you’re saying this makes a difference?
Fuelgrip: I’m just saying that sometimes you can get a feel for attitude by how someone presents themselves. And when I look at her and think, “NASA, I think we found part of that satellite . . .”
Fireplug: Unbelievable! Boy, I’m glad you weren’t around in the First Century. Let’s see: we’ve got this poor, unmarried pregnant girl from some backwater village about to give birth in a stable. Then, there’s some scruffy shepherds that show up. Oh, and you certainly couldn’t start a successful ministry with a bunch of dumb fisherman!
Fuelgrip: Point made. I stand corrected. What’s the next verse?
If God had a face,
what would it look like and
would you want to see
if seeing meant that
You would have to believe
in things like
Heaven and in Jesus and the Saints
and all the Prophets and . . .
Fireplug: I always liked this verse. It’s calling for a decision. If you're someone like Thomas – where seeing is believing – then if you do see, you start evaluating Heaven, Jesus, the Saints, the Prophets . . .
Fuelgrip: But “no one has ever seen God” but only His Son. So we couldn’t look on His face in any event.
Fireplug: You know, you’re just way too literal.
Fuelgrip: And you’re too alliteral!
Fireplug: Well, we wouldn’t want a wayward weblog, would we?
Fuelgrip: Let’s just trudge over the bridge and through the chorus again.
Yeah, yeah
God is great
Yeah, yeah
God is good
Yeah, yeah
yeah yeah yeah
What if God was one of us?
Just a slob like one of us?
Just a stranger on a bus,
trying to make His way home . . .
Fireplug: Were you singing along just now? I think you like this song more than you let on.
Fuelgrip: I don’t deny the music is catchy, but that’s part of the problem. People might be taken with the music and then not think about the words.
Fireplug: But the very fact that it’s a good tune means that more people might pay attention. Remember, CBS even used it as the theme song for that Joan of Arcadia show.
Fuelgrip: And you’re mentioning CBS like this is supposed to convince me?
Fireplug: Fair enough. But it was a good show.
Fuelgrip: As Woody Allen tells Diane Keaton in Love and Death, “You’re quoting a Hun to me?”
Fireplug: I was just happy to see God being brought up and discussed on network television.
Fuelgrip: Well, we’re about to the end of our discussion. Here’s the final chorus. I actually did think the “Pope” line was kind of clever:
Tryin' to make His way home
Back up to Heaven all alone . . .
Nobody callin' on the phone
'Cept for the Pope maybe in Rome . . .
Fireplug: I like it, too. And I come away from this song feeling a little sorry for God.
Fuelgrip: You feel sorry for God! Wow, there’s two thousand years of religious doctrine down the tubes!
Fireplug: Well, what I mean is, we’re supposed to see God in everyone, and I do think when his children hurt, God hurts with them.
Fuelgrip: That’s what I’m trying to say, too. There are so many lost and hurting and lonely people that we should be reaching out to them. I think we are supposed to go out and be Christ’s hands and feet here on earth.
Fireplug: And I think we can do that more effectively if we spend time with the Lord; really listening to what He’s saying. And as we’re able to hear His voice, He’ll lead us where we should go and what we should do.
Fuelgrip: But then we need to step out. We don’t need a song posing “what if’s” about God – we need to do what He’s already told us to do.
Fireplug: Well, we’re actually agreeing on something, sort of. You know, Skip, this has been fun.
Fuelgrip: I always enjoy talking with you, Doug.
Fireplug: Really? Thanks. Well, it’s been great to get both sides today. I think I lean more to the inward, spiritual side, looking for the Lord in everything and letting God speak to us. I think you lean more to going out and being His hands and feet. And you’re right – if we don’t do it, it’s not going to get done.
Fuelgrip: So let’s give each other one nugget of wisdom before you pass the potatoes.
Fireplug: Talk with the Father.
Fuelgrip: Call your mother.
by Eric Bazilian
If God had a Name,
what would it be and -
would you call it to His face
if you were faced with Him
in all His Glory,
what would you ask
if you had just one question . . .
Fireplug: Welcome once again to Full-of-Woe Wednesday! The format’s a little different this week because my brother (Fuelgrip Skip) and I once again find ourselves at cross-purposes – as is usually the case. He came up with today’s song, One of Us, as a candidate for one of his Least Favorite Songs. I actually had it on my list as one of my favorites. So here's a transcript of what transpired around the dinner table. Hope you enjoy the dialogue!
Fuelgrip: Right off the bat, I’m annoyed. “If God had a name . . .” Here’s a news flash: he does!
Fireplug: I think she might be alluding to the ineffable name of God and what we might feel if we came before His holy presence. Kind of like when Isaiah said, “Woe is me! for I am undone; because I am a man of unclean lips, and I dwell in the midst of a people of unclean lips: for mine eyes have seen the King, the LORD of hosts. (Isaiah 6:5)”
Fuelgrip: But she asks “What would it be?” This sounds like “oh, let’s give God a name!” It’s not like we’re going to the Animal Shelter or something. By the way, who sang this?
Fireplug: Joan Osborne had the hit. I think she was even nominated for a Grammy. I wonder what ever happened to her.
Fuelgrip: I thought it was Alanis Morrissette.
Fireplug: She did a cover of it. But then, so did Prince, Mike Meyers (as Austin Powers) and Jim Carrey in Bruce Almighty.
Fuelgrip: Ringing endorsements all. I think I can rest my case here. Do we need to continue?
Fireplug: I’m afraid we must. Let’s go on to the bridge.
Fuelgrip: Here’s a high-water mark in English poetry:
and yeah, yeah
God is great
Yeah, yeah
God is good
Yeah, yeah
yeah yeah yeah
Shakespeare, Emily Dickinson – they’re spinning like gyroscopes right about now.
Fireplug: I know it looks a little goofy on paper, but I actually found it kind of sweet. She was repeating that blessing that we all learn as children. And then the “yeah, yeah” parts kind of introduced an ironic element; like how we can get lost along the way in the culture that engulfs us.
Fuelgrip: You know, brother, you’re a good guy, but you are so gullible!
Fireplug: Really!
Fuelgrip: And I can prove it with two words. Two letters, actually – “O. J.”
Fireplug: All I ever said was that I didn’t think the prosecution had made their case.
Fuelgrip: Congratulations! The jury agreed with you! So, let’s see: that makes 13 of you in the “not guilty” camp and, in the “guilty” camp – uh, help me do the math here – what’s six billion minus 13?
Fireplug: We’re getting way off track. Let’s move on to the chorus:
What if God was one of us?
Just a slob like one of us?
Just a stranger on a bus, trying to make His
way home . . .
Fuelgrip: Now, I’m going to surprise you here, but I thought, musically, that this was a pretty good part. She’d been repeating the silly “yeah, yeah, yeah” parts, almost monotonously. And then, she pops it up an octave and belts it out on the chorus.
Fireplug: Very nicely said. And I may surprise you here, but the “slob” line always bothered me.
Fuelgrip: I just said I liked the music. The lyrics make me crazy.
Fireplug: I think she was just posing a rhetorical question. If God was one of us, how we would act? Kind of like the “entertaining angels unaware” concept.
Fuelgrip: But God was one of us. “And the Word became flesh and dwelled among us . . .”
Fireplug: True. But the chorus with its questions might be able to start a dialogue with someone on just that very topic.
Fuelgrip: I just think . . . now I remember the singer! Wasn’t she the woman that had the huge ring sticking through her nose?
Fireplug: Yes, I believe so. And you’re saying this makes a difference?
Fuelgrip: I’m just saying that sometimes you can get a feel for attitude by how someone presents themselves. And when I look at her and think, “NASA, I think we found part of that satellite . . .”
Fireplug: Unbelievable! Boy, I’m glad you weren’t around in the First Century. Let’s see: we’ve got this poor, unmarried pregnant girl from some backwater village about to give birth in a stable. Then, there’s some scruffy shepherds that show up. Oh, and you certainly couldn’t start a successful ministry with a bunch of dumb fisherman!
Fuelgrip: Point made. I stand corrected. What’s the next verse?
If God had a face,
what would it look like and
would you want to see
if seeing meant that
You would have to believe
in things like
Heaven and in Jesus and the Saints
and all the Prophets and . . .
Fireplug: I always liked this verse. It’s calling for a decision. If you're someone like Thomas – where seeing is believing – then if you do see, you start evaluating Heaven, Jesus, the Saints, the Prophets . . .
Fuelgrip: But “no one has ever seen God” but only His Son. So we couldn’t look on His face in any event.
Fireplug: You know, you’re just way too literal.
Fuelgrip: And you’re too alliteral!
Fireplug: Well, we wouldn’t want a wayward weblog, would we?
Fuelgrip: Let’s just trudge over the bridge and through the chorus again.
Yeah, yeah
God is great
Yeah, yeah
God is good
Yeah, yeah
yeah yeah yeah
What if God was one of us?
Just a slob like one of us?
Just a stranger on a bus,
trying to make His way home . . .
Fireplug: Were you singing along just now? I think you like this song more than you let on.
Fuelgrip: I don’t deny the music is catchy, but that’s part of the problem. People might be taken with the music and then not think about the words.
Fireplug: But the very fact that it’s a good tune means that more people might pay attention. Remember, CBS even used it as the theme song for that Joan of Arcadia show.
Fuelgrip: And you’re mentioning CBS like this is supposed to convince me?
Fireplug: Fair enough. But it was a good show.
Fuelgrip: As Woody Allen tells Diane Keaton in Love and Death, “You’re quoting a Hun to me?”
Fireplug: I was just happy to see God being brought up and discussed on network television.
Fuelgrip: Well, we’re about to the end of our discussion. Here’s the final chorus. I actually did think the “Pope” line was kind of clever:
Tryin' to make His way home
Back up to Heaven all alone . . .
Nobody callin' on the phone
'Cept for the Pope maybe in Rome . . .
Fireplug: I like it, too. And I come away from this song feeling a little sorry for God.
Fuelgrip: You feel sorry for God! Wow, there’s two thousand years of religious doctrine down the tubes!
Fireplug: Well, what I mean is, we’re supposed to see God in everyone, and I do think when his children hurt, God hurts with them.
Fuelgrip: That’s what I’m trying to say, too. There are so many lost and hurting and lonely people that we should be reaching out to them. I think we are supposed to go out and be Christ’s hands and feet here on earth.
Fireplug: And I think we can do that more effectively if we spend time with the Lord; really listening to what He’s saying. And as we’re able to hear His voice, He’ll lead us where we should go and what we should do.
Fuelgrip: But then we need to step out. We don’t need a song posing “what if’s” about God – we need to do what He’s already told us to do.
Fireplug: Well, we’re actually agreeing on something, sort of. You know, Skip, this has been fun.
Fuelgrip: I always enjoy talking with you, Doug.
Fireplug: Really? Thanks. Well, it’s been great to get both sides today. I think I lean more to the inward, spiritual side, looking for the Lord in everything and letting God speak to us. I think you lean more to going out and being His hands and feet. And you’re right – if we don’t do it, it’s not going to get done.
Fuelgrip: So let’s give each other one nugget of wisdom before you pass the potatoes.
Fireplug: Talk with the Father.
Fuelgrip: Call your mother.
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
A British Tar is a Soaring Soul
A British Tar is a Soaring Soul
lyrics by Sir William S Gilbert
music by Sir Arthur S Sullivan
His eyes should flash, and his breast protrude,
And this should be his customary attitude!
– Ralph, Boatswain and Carpenter, in HMS Pinafore
Today’s song hails from the “Rodgers and Hammerstein” of the Victorian Era: Sir William Gilbert and Sir Arthur Sullivan. They wrote 14 comic operas together and helped lay the groundwork for that great synthesis of music, drama, art, and dance that we know today as the musical comedy. Sir Arthur is also well-known for some enduring works of his own. He wrote Onward, Christian Soldiers and The Lost Chord among many other orchestral and choral works. When Sir Arthur died at the age of 58 following complications due to pneumonia, his wish was to be buried in Brompton Cemetery with his parents and his brother. Queen Victoria exercised her prerogative, however, and ordered that he be buried in St Paul’s Cathedral. It was meant to be a great compliment, but I wonder if, all things considered, he might rather have had his first location. Maybe he and his family are having a good laugh about it right now.
Gilbert & Sullivan’s moment in history was right square in the middle of Queen Victoria’s reign. It was the time when “the sun never set on the British Empire” and the British Navy, in particular, exemplified this fact. In HMS Pinafore (also known as The Lass That Loved a Sailor), Sir William and Sir Arthur set forth the Victorian ideal of a sailor in the Queen’s Navy:
A British tar is a soaring soul,
As free as a mountain bird,
His energetic fist should be ready to resist
A dictatorial word.
Do you know what I love about writings from bygone eras (something that I fear we may be losing)? It is that people were so infused with the cadences of and allusions to Scripture that, even when writing secular works, Biblical references just leaked out and were everywhere present. In this first verse of “A British Tar”, two Bible verses come to mind. First, the great promises of Isaiah 40:31 –
. . . but those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength.
They will soar on wings like eagles;
they will run and not grow weary,
they will walk and not be faint.
And then I think of the whole “armor of God” in Ephesians, where our “energetic fists” should have the shield of faith in one hand and the sword of the Spirit (the Word of God) in the other (Ephesians 6:16-17).
His bosom should heave and his heart should glow,
And his fist be ever ready for a knock-down blow.
As our British tars begin verse two, we see a sterner visage: one that is approved when faced with evil. This, too, is something I fear is being lost in our post-modern culture. While we are loving the Lord with all our heart, soul, mind and strength, and also loving our neighbor as ourselves, we should not forget what Romans 12:9 reminds us: “Let love be genuine; hate what is evil, hold fast to what is good . . .”
His eyes should flash with an inborn fire,
His brow with scorn be wrung;
He never should bow down to a domineering frown,
Or the tang of a tyrant tongue.
His eyes should flash, and his breast protrude,
And this should be his customary attitude!
Now, I know I’m a pretty old-fashioned guy in a lot of ways, but I wonder if a lot of the crises facing men these days (and impacting society in general as a result) could be dealt with by looking to the wisdom of the past. John Henry Cardinal Newman was one of England’s most famous converts to Roman Catholicism (G K Chesterton being another that jumps to mind). Cardinal Newman wrote a treatise in 1852, titled The Idea of a University. It was intended for English and Irish Catholics (who had just recently received civil rights) and who might be attending university. In it, Cardinal Newman seems to join Messrs Gilbert & Sullivan in expounding on the concept of a “gentleman”:
It is almost a definition of a gentleman to say he is one who never inflicts pain. This description is both refined and, as far as it goes, accurate. He is mainly occupied in merely removing the obstacles which hinder the free and unembarrassed action of those about him; and he concurs with their movements rather than takes the initiative himself. His benefits may be considered as parallel to what are called comforts or conveniences in arrangements of a personal nature: like an easy chair or a good fire, which do their part in dispelling cold and fatigue, though nature provides both means of rest and animal heat without them. The true gentleman in like manner carefully avoids whatever may cause a jar or a jolt in the minds of those with whom he is cast; — all clashing of opinion, or collision of feeling, all restraint, or suspicion, or gloom, or resentment; his great concern being to make everyone at their ease and at home. He has his eyes on all his company; he is tender towards the bashful, gentle towards the distant, and merciful towards the absurd; he can recollect to whom he is speaking; he guards against unseasonable allusions, or topics which may irritate; he is seldom prominent in conversation, and never wearisome. He makes light of favours while he does them, and seems to be receiving when he is conferring. He never speaks of himself except when compelled, never defends himself by a mere retort, he has no ears for slander or gossip, is scrupulous in imputing motives to those who interfere with him, and interprets everything for the best. He is never mean or little in his disputes, never takes unfair advantage, never mistakes personalities or sharp sayings for arguments, or insinuates evil which he dare not say out. From a long-sighted prudence, he observes the maxim of the ancient sage, that we should ever conduct ourselves towards our enemy as if he were one day to be our friend. He has too much good sense to be affronted at insults, he is too well employed to remember injuries, and too indolent to bear malice. He is patient, forbearing, and resigned, on philosophical principles; he submits to pain, because it is inevitable, to bereavement, because it is irreparable, and to death, because it is his destiny. If he engages in controversy of any kind, his disciplined intellect preserves him from the blunder.
As I was thinking about these writings, I jumped forward to the present and to the cause of our celebrations today: exactly one hundred years after Cardinal Newman wrote his treatise, the world was blessed, in 1952, with another “gentleman” and “soaring soul”: my dear, dear friend, Jim Miller. Today, February 26, we celebrate Jim’s birthday. If you are blessed to know Jim personally, you know that his “eyes flash” and his “heart glows” with his love of the Lord. And, like Newman’s gentleman and Gilbert & Sullivan’s sailor, Jim’s “customary attitude” is one of love, concern, respect, and encouragement for all of God’s children. All of this is true, but it is not an end in and of itself: the really great thing is that Jim is able to link this behavior with the underlying and driving story of his life – his love of Jesus Christ the Lord.
Now, Jim would be the first to point out that he is just a regular guy, with all the same frailties, hopes, and fears as everybody else. That’s all true – and, to me, that’s all the more reason his story is compelling. Jim lives out the verse “for in Him we live and move and have our being,” (as St Paul quotes the Greek poets in Acts 17:28), as well as my favorite verse (Ephesians 5:10), “try to find out what is pleasing to the Lord.” If you have read anything in these paltry posts of mine this Lent and have found encouragement or insight, chances are I gleaned that insight from Jim.
The creative world of Gilbert & Sullivan was a fanciful and (to use one of their phrases) topsy-turvy one: fairies brushed up against British lords, gondoliers became monarchs, and a lowly sailor turned out to be the Admiral of the Sea. There’s another story making the rounds and it is far more topsy-turvy and amazing than any of these. In it, a lowly child born in a stable turns out to be the King of the Universe. In it, the meek inherit the earth. In it, the blind see. In it, prostitutes and tax collectors can enter the Kingdom of Heaven before Pharisees. In it, the Good Shepherd lays down his life for His sheep – and is raised to eternal life. It’s a story I’ve heard all my life and have always believed. And today, especially, I give thanks for my friend Jim, who – through his commitment to the Lord, Biblical knowledge, teaching skills, “inborn fire” of the Spirit, devotion to his family, care of the flock the Lord has entrusted to him, and friendship – has further illuminated for me this “greatest story ever told”.
Jim: as you blow out the candles tonight, know that there is a whole host of your friends throughout the entire Communion of the Saints who echo these wishes – and who could have expressed them much better than me. So maybe the words of Philemon 7 say it best for all of us:
“I have indeed received much joy and encouragement from your love, because the hearts of the saints have been refreshed through you.”
Happy Birthday, Powerhouse!
lyrics by Sir William S Gilbert
music by Sir Arthur S Sullivan
His eyes should flash, and his breast protrude,
And this should be his customary attitude!
– Ralph, Boatswain and Carpenter, in HMS Pinafore
Today’s song hails from the “Rodgers and Hammerstein” of the Victorian Era: Sir William Gilbert and Sir Arthur Sullivan. They wrote 14 comic operas together and helped lay the groundwork for that great synthesis of music, drama, art, and dance that we know today as the musical comedy. Sir Arthur is also well-known for some enduring works of his own. He wrote Onward, Christian Soldiers and The Lost Chord among many other orchestral and choral works. When Sir Arthur died at the age of 58 following complications due to pneumonia, his wish was to be buried in Brompton Cemetery with his parents and his brother. Queen Victoria exercised her prerogative, however, and ordered that he be buried in St Paul’s Cathedral. It was meant to be a great compliment, but I wonder if, all things considered, he might rather have had his first location. Maybe he and his family are having a good laugh about it right now.
Gilbert & Sullivan’s moment in history was right square in the middle of Queen Victoria’s reign. It was the time when “the sun never set on the British Empire” and the British Navy, in particular, exemplified this fact. In HMS Pinafore (also known as The Lass That Loved a Sailor), Sir William and Sir Arthur set forth the Victorian ideal of a sailor in the Queen’s Navy:
A British tar is a soaring soul,
As free as a mountain bird,
His energetic fist should be ready to resist
A dictatorial word.
Do you know what I love about writings from bygone eras (something that I fear we may be losing)? It is that people were so infused with the cadences of and allusions to Scripture that, even when writing secular works, Biblical references just leaked out and were everywhere present. In this first verse of “A British Tar”, two Bible verses come to mind. First, the great promises of Isaiah 40:31 –
. . . but those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength.
They will soar on wings like eagles;
they will run and not grow weary,
they will walk and not be faint.
And then I think of the whole “armor of God” in Ephesians, where our “energetic fists” should have the shield of faith in one hand and the sword of the Spirit (the Word of God) in the other (Ephesians 6:16-17).
His bosom should heave and his heart should glow,
And his fist be ever ready for a knock-down blow.
As our British tars begin verse two, we see a sterner visage: one that is approved when faced with evil. This, too, is something I fear is being lost in our post-modern culture. While we are loving the Lord with all our heart, soul, mind and strength, and also loving our neighbor as ourselves, we should not forget what Romans 12:9 reminds us: “Let love be genuine; hate what is evil, hold fast to what is good . . .”
His eyes should flash with an inborn fire,
His brow with scorn be wrung;
He never should bow down to a domineering frown,
Or the tang of a tyrant tongue.
His eyes should flash, and his breast protrude,
And this should be his customary attitude!
Now, I know I’m a pretty old-fashioned guy in a lot of ways, but I wonder if a lot of the crises facing men these days (and impacting society in general as a result) could be dealt with by looking to the wisdom of the past. John Henry Cardinal Newman was one of England’s most famous converts to Roman Catholicism (G K Chesterton being another that jumps to mind). Cardinal Newman wrote a treatise in 1852, titled The Idea of a University. It was intended for English and Irish Catholics (who had just recently received civil rights) and who might be attending university. In it, Cardinal Newman seems to join Messrs Gilbert & Sullivan in expounding on the concept of a “gentleman”:
It is almost a definition of a gentleman to say he is one who never inflicts pain. This description is both refined and, as far as it goes, accurate. He is mainly occupied in merely removing the obstacles which hinder the free and unembarrassed action of those about him; and he concurs with their movements rather than takes the initiative himself. His benefits may be considered as parallel to what are called comforts or conveniences in arrangements of a personal nature: like an easy chair or a good fire, which do their part in dispelling cold and fatigue, though nature provides both means of rest and animal heat without them. The true gentleman in like manner carefully avoids whatever may cause a jar or a jolt in the minds of those with whom he is cast; — all clashing of opinion, or collision of feeling, all restraint, or suspicion, or gloom, or resentment; his great concern being to make everyone at their ease and at home. He has his eyes on all his company; he is tender towards the bashful, gentle towards the distant, and merciful towards the absurd; he can recollect to whom he is speaking; he guards against unseasonable allusions, or topics which may irritate; he is seldom prominent in conversation, and never wearisome. He makes light of favours while he does them, and seems to be receiving when he is conferring. He never speaks of himself except when compelled, never defends himself by a mere retort, he has no ears for slander or gossip, is scrupulous in imputing motives to those who interfere with him, and interprets everything for the best. He is never mean or little in his disputes, never takes unfair advantage, never mistakes personalities or sharp sayings for arguments, or insinuates evil which he dare not say out. From a long-sighted prudence, he observes the maxim of the ancient sage, that we should ever conduct ourselves towards our enemy as if he were one day to be our friend. He has too much good sense to be affronted at insults, he is too well employed to remember injuries, and too indolent to bear malice. He is patient, forbearing, and resigned, on philosophical principles; he submits to pain, because it is inevitable, to bereavement, because it is irreparable, and to death, because it is his destiny. If he engages in controversy of any kind, his disciplined intellect preserves him from the blunder.
As I was thinking about these writings, I jumped forward to the present and to the cause of our celebrations today: exactly one hundred years after Cardinal Newman wrote his treatise, the world was blessed, in 1952, with another “gentleman” and “soaring soul”: my dear, dear friend, Jim Miller. Today, February 26, we celebrate Jim’s birthday. If you are blessed to know Jim personally, you know that his “eyes flash” and his “heart glows” with his love of the Lord. And, like Newman’s gentleman and Gilbert & Sullivan’s sailor, Jim’s “customary attitude” is one of love, concern, respect, and encouragement for all of God’s children. All of this is true, but it is not an end in and of itself: the really great thing is that Jim is able to link this behavior with the underlying and driving story of his life – his love of Jesus Christ the Lord.
Now, Jim would be the first to point out that he is just a regular guy, with all the same frailties, hopes, and fears as everybody else. That’s all true – and, to me, that’s all the more reason his story is compelling. Jim lives out the verse “for in Him we live and move and have our being,” (as St Paul quotes the Greek poets in Acts 17:28), as well as my favorite verse (Ephesians 5:10), “try to find out what is pleasing to the Lord.” If you have read anything in these paltry posts of mine this Lent and have found encouragement or insight, chances are I gleaned that insight from Jim.
The creative world of Gilbert & Sullivan was a fanciful and (to use one of their phrases) topsy-turvy one: fairies brushed up against British lords, gondoliers became monarchs, and a lowly sailor turned out to be the Admiral of the Sea. There’s another story making the rounds and it is far more topsy-turvy and amazing than any of these. In it, a lowly child born in a stable turns out to be the King of the Universe. In it, the meek inherit the earth. In it, the blind see. In it, prostitutes and tax collectors can enter the Kingdom of Heaven before Pharisees. In it, the Good Shepherd lays down his life for His sheep – and is raised to eternal life. It’s a story I’ve heard all my life and have always believed. And today, especially, I give thanks for my friend Jim, who – through his commitment to the Lord, Biblical knowledge, teaching skills, “inborn fire” of the Spirit, devotion to his family, care of the flock the Lord has entrusted to him, and friendship – has further illuminated for me this “greatest story ever told”.
Jim: as you blow out the candles tonight, know that there is a whole host of your friends throughout the entire Communion of the Saints who echo these wishes – and who could have expressed them much better than me. So maybe the words of Philemon 7 say it best for all of us:
“I have indeed received much joy and encouragement from your love, because the hearts of the saints have been refreshed through you.”
Happy Birthday, Powerhouse!
Monday, February 25, 2008
Part of Your World
Part of Your World
lyrics by Howard Ashman
music by Alan Menken
Wandering free
Wish I could be
Part of that world
- Ariel, in The Little Mermaid
The year 1989 was an annus mirabilis for many reasons. First, the Berlin Wall came down. But even more relevant to today’s post (if you’ll pardon the comparison), the movie musical, about to go the way of the buggy whip and the LP record, was saved. Beginning with The Little Mermaid in 1989, the Disney people began to produce one hit musical after another. They were brimming with technical, musical, and literary excellence – and these were animated features. As these movies began to pave the way for new, critically acclaimed live-action musicals (Chicago, Moulin Rouge!), so Disney took their animated features and turned them into hit Broadway productions which, one could argue, helped to save the Broadway musical, as well. And, sure enough, The Little Mermaid – the first of the new era of Disney animated musicals, the one that brought the genre back to life – is now the latest to be brought to the stage; following in the hugely popular footsteps of Beauty and the Beast, The Lion King, and Mary Poppins. I can’t wait to see how they have staged the underwater scenes: will they fly, will they dance, will they swim?
Our song today comes from The Little Mermaid, from which today’s composer and lyricist took home Academy Awards for Best Score and for Best Song (for another hit, Under the Sea). Ariel, our heroine, is King Triton’s daughter, a mermaid who dreams of more. When ships wreck, or items are lost overboard, they drift down “fathoms below” and she collects them. Ariel is fascinated by this “world up above” and has amassed quite a storehouse in an underwater cavern – lampstands, books, trinkets of all kinds. She reads the books but doesn’t understand many of the foreign terms (like “street” and “burn”). She even swims to the surface occasionally and chats with her friend Scuttle, a seagull, who, even when he doesn’t know the use for a particular object, makes up something anyway, often to comic effect. It made me think of all the times blessings have drifted down to us on Earth, whether in the form of inventions or in relationships or in words of Scripture, and we are “seeing through a glass darkly,” unable to quite grasp the whole picture.
Look at this stuff
Isn't it neat?
Wouldn't you think my collection's complete?
Wouldn't you think I'm the girl
The girl who has everything?
Look at this trove
Treasures untold
How many wonders can one cavern hold?
Looking around here you'd think
Sure, she's got everything
I've got gadgets and gizmos aplenty
I've got whozits and whatzits galore
(You want thingamabobs?
I got twenty)
But who cares?
No big deal
I want more
When The Little Mermaid was released to universal acclaim, people thought it was a revolutionary way to do an animated feature. In reality, it was a hearkening back to the old-fashioned musicals (with real and animated characters) that have always been so successful: from Gilbert & Sullivan, to Snow White to Oklahoma! to Ashman and Menken’s previous collaboration, Little Shop of Horrors. I saw an interview with composer Alan Menken where he explained how they came up with Ariel’s first number. He said that every musical needs a song, pretty much right after the big, splashy (no pun intended) opening number where the protagonist comes out by themselves and tells the audience what’s on their heart. And from that moment on, the audience is rooting for them. So, Ariel takes center stage and captures our hearts:
I wanna be where the people are
I wanna see
Wanna see 'em dancin'
Walkin' around on those
(Whad'ya call 'em?) oh – “feet”
Flippin' your fins you don't get too far
Legs are required for jumping, dancing
Strolling along down a
(What's that word again?) “street”
Up where they walk
Up where they run
Up where they stay all day in the sun
Wandering free
Wish I could be
Part of that world
I remember thinking, when The Little Mermaid came out and the inevitable raising of Ariel into the Disney character pantheon occurred (with all the autograph signings and character breakfasts that would follow at the theme parks): wouldn’t it be nice if Ariel could be played by a young woman who couldn’t use her legs? She could be all decked out, fins and all, and seated on a motorized coral or rocky throne and could be an inspiration for kids like her. Maybe that happened. I think I need to go back to Disney World and check it out – strictly for research purposes, you understand!
Anyway, back to the story. One day, Ariel rescues a young man from drowning. She instantly falls in love, but knows that they are worlds (or rather, oceans) apart. As she deposits him safely on shore, she sings to him. What she doesn’t know is that she has rescued the crown Prince Erik and that, as he is coming to and hearing Ariel’s singing, he has fallen in love with her, too.
What would I give
If I could live
Out of these waters?
What would I pay
To spend a day
Warm on the sand?
Betcha on land
They understand
Bet they don't reprimand their daughters
Bright young women
Sick of swimmin'
Ready to stand
Well, Ariel makes a deal with Ursula, the Sea Witch (Note to self: never a good idea – all these Faustian bargains always end badly). Ariel will have three days on land, as a human. If she can get Prince Erik to fall in love with her (as evidenced by a kiss) before sundown on the third day, Ariel can remain forever human. If not, she will be the Sea Witch’s property forever. There’s also one small hitch: Ursula is holding Ariel’s voice as collateral, so she will not be able to sing her beautiful songs to the Prince. Of course, like Peter after his brave declaration to Jesus that “everyone else may abandon you, but I never will”, poor Ariel has no idea what she is up against. The Sea Witch doesn’t play fair (imagine that) and it takes Ariel’s father, King Triton, agreeing to take Ariel’s place in a selfless act of propitiation (this, also, should sound familiar – from Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, which, in turn, comes right out of the Gospels) to win Ariel’s freedom.
And ready to know what the people know
Ask 'em my questions
And get some answers
What's a fire and why does it
(What's the word?) “burn?”
Of course, the Sea Witch is eventually killed and all the “poor, unfortunate souls” who have been held captive in Ursula’s underwater lair are released and restored to their former selves. Triton, retaking his rightful place as King of the Sea, consents to a Royal Wedding for Ariel and Erik, and merfolk and humans live happily ever after.
When's it my turn?
Wouldn't I love
Love to explore that shore above?
Out of the sea
Wish I could be
Part of that world.
It got me thinking, that in our world, the travel between worlds was first the other way. Jesus, “for us and for our salvation, came down from Heaven”, as we say in the Creeds: He came to be part of our world. There’s that beautiful poem in Philippians 2:5-11:
In your relationships with one another, have the same attitude of mind Christ Jesus had:
Who, being in very nature God,
did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage;
rather, he made himself nothing
by taking the very nature of a servant,
being made in human likeness.
And being found in appearance as a human being,
he humbled himself
by becoming obedient to death—
even death on a cross!
Therefore God exalted him to the highest place
and gave him the name that is above every name,
that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow,
in heaven and on earth and under the earth,
and every tongue acknowledge that Jesus Christ is Lord,
to the glory of God the Father.
One more thing, if you’ll permit me: the Disney animators get buoyancy and gravity better than anybody. There’s a discussion in one scene in The Matrix (not a Disney movie) where Morpheus is explaining to Neo the various rules written into the programs of the Construct. He tells him that there are physical laws that must be obeyed, but that they can be bent a little. Well, that’s a page straight out of the Disney playbook. Watch Peter Pan sometime and see how perfectly Peter, Wendy and the others fly: it is totally believable because it is the perfect intersection of physical laws and imagination. Similarly, the buoyancy of all the characters under the sea is just right in The Little Mermaid. Of course, that’s nothing compared to what we are about to celebrate in the Christian calendar. In Lent, we are preparing for that glorious Resurrection Day of Easter. And (not that He needs me to tell Him this, but) I think the Lord got gravity – and buoyancy – just right.
Saturday, February 23, 2008
Mama, a Rainbow
Mama, a Rainbow
lyrics by Hal Hackaday
music by Larry Grossman
Today’s song, Mama, a Rainbow, hails from a little known musical named Minnie’s Boys. Loosely based on the early lives of the Marx Brothers, Minnie’s Boys opened at the Imperial Theatre in New York in 1970, on March 26. It ran for 80 performances. If for no other reason than today’s song, I would wish it was still packin’ ‘em in. Minnie (played by Shelley Winters) is the matriarch of the Marx family. Harpo (neé Adolph Marx), you may remember, was a man of few words on screen. However, he saved them all up for this beautiful tribute to his mother:
What do you give to the lady
Who has given all her life
And love to you?
What do you give
To the reason you`re livin`?
I could windowshop the world
Before I`m through.
Mama, a rainbow,
Mama, a sunrise,
Mama, the moon to wear.
That`s not good enough,
No, not good enough.
Not for mama.
Mama, a palace.
Diamonds like doorknobs.
Mountains of gold to spare.
That`s not rich enough,
Not half rich enough,
Not for mama.
Mama, a lifetime,
Crowded with laughter,
That`s not long enough,
Not half long enough.
What can I give you
That I can give you?
What will your present be?
Mama young and beautiful.
Always young and beautiful.
That`s the mama I`ll always see,
That`s for mama with love from me.
Lent does not extend to Mother’s Day, so I’m including this song as a reflection and tribute for all our mothers, especially mine. I remember that powerful scene in The Passion of the Christ where Jesus falls on his way to Golgotha. His mother, Mary rushes to his side and there is a flashback to days when Jesus was a child. They are beautiful heart-wrenching scenes. And then, we come back to the present and we hear Jesus, through a blood-streaked face, tell his mother, “See: I make all things new.”
If I could, mother, I would make all things new for you. But thank you for your deep faith, for your unconditional love, for your holding the larger family together, and for your constant, intuitive prayers (and if you are a friend reading this blog, the chances are very high that those prayers at one time have been, and maybe even now are, for you).
Mama young and beautiful.
Always young and beautiful.
That`s the mama I`ll always see,
That`s for mama with love from me.
lyrics by Hal Hackaday
music by Larry Grossman
Today’s song, Mama, a Rainbow, hails from a little known musical named Minnie’s Boys. Loosely based on the early lives of the Marx Brothers, Minnie’s Boys opened at the Imperial Theatre in New York in 1970, on March 26. It ran for 80 performances. If for no other reason than today’s song, I would wish it was still packin’ ‘em in. Minnie (played by Shelley Winters) is the matriarch of the Marx family. Harpo (neé Adolph Marx), you may remember, was a man of few words on screen. However, he saved them all up for this beautiful tribute to his mother:
What do you give to the lady
Who has given all her life
And love to you?
What do you give
To the reason you`re livin`?
I could windowshop the world
Before I`m through.
Mama, a rainbow,
Mama, a sunrise,
Mama, the moon to wear.
That`s not good enough,
No, not good enough.
Not for mama.
Mama, a palace.
Diamonds like doorknobs.
Mountains of gold to spare.
That`s not rich enough,
Not half rich enough,
Not for mama.
Mama, a lifetime,
Crowded with laughter,
That`s not long enough,
Not half long enough.
What can I give you
That I can give you?
What will your present be?
Mama young and beautiful.
Always young and beautiful.
That`s the mama I`ll always see,
That`s for mama with love from me.
Lent does not extend to Mother’s Day, so I’m including this song as a reflection and tribute for all our mothers, especially mine. I remember that powerful scene in The Passion of the Christ where Jesus falls on his way to Golgotha. His mother, Mary rushes to his side and there is a flashback to days when Jesus was a child. They are beautiful heart-wrenching scenes. And then, we come back to the present and we hear Jesus, through a blood-streaked face, tell his mother, “See: I make all things new.”
If I could, mother, I would make all things new for you. But thank you for your deep faith, for your unconditional love, for your holding the larger family together, and for your constant, intuitive prayers (and if you are a friend reading this blog, the chances are very high that those prayers at one time have been, and maybe even now are, for you).
Mama young and beautiful.
Always young and beautiful.
That`s the mama I`ll always see,
That`s for mama with love from me.
Friday, February 22, 2008
Stereophonic Sound
Stereophonic Sound
by Cole Porter
If you want to get the crowd to come around, you gotta have
Glorious Technicolor
Breath-taking Cinemascope
and stereophonic sound!
It’s Fun-Time Friday once again! Today’s song is from Cole Porter’s penultimate musical, Silk Stockings. Set smack dab in the middle of the Cold War, the show roughly involves Soviet envoy Nina Yaschenko, who is dispatched to Paris to retrieve three Commissars who have fallen prey to “western decadence.” Plans go awry, however, when she meets theatrical agent Steven Canfield and he woos her with the fruits of capitalism (the “silk stockings” of the title). Thus, true love carries the day. As a secondary plot, motion picture swimming star Janice Dayton (think Esther Williams) has her sights on Peter Boroff, Russia’s greatest composer, to write her a musical adaptation of War and Peace. Based on the original story Ninotchka (the diminutive name of the lead character Nina), Silk Stockings opened on Broadway in 1955. A film version in 1957 starred Fred Astaire and Cyd Charisse.
In Act One, Steven and Janice sing about how it is becoming increasingly harder to bring in the audiences these days:
Today to get the public to attend a picture show
It's not enough to advertise a famous star they know
If you want to get the crowd to come around, you gotta have
Glorious Technicolor
Breath-taking Cinemascope
and stereophonic sound
I can relate to this theme on many levels. First, I have come to believe that we are the last family in America that does not have an HDTV. All my friends have been repurposing their armoires back into clothes closets (for the third time in the armoire’s life) as they hang their flat screens on the wall. And, I will admit, the results are glorious, breath-taking, and even hyper-stereophonic.
If Zanuck's latest picture were the good old-fashioned kind
There'd be no one in front to look at Marilyn's behind
If you want to hear applauding hands resound, you gotta have
Glorious Technicolor
Breath-taking Cinemascope
and stereophonic sound
Churches are also wrestling with how to incorporate new technology and modes of worship into their services. On the one hand, any new innovation was probably revolutionary when it was first introduced – think of what the pipe organ must have looked like to the first people who witnessed it in worship. But there may be times when something out of character with the setting may actually impede worship. In our own church, we are trying to figure out a way to work in a video screen (if indeed we can) into the beautiful, gothic Sanctuary. Do we try to add something that would undoubtedly aid in worship and instruction; would it be as obtrusive as that monolith in the bedroom in the final scene of 2001: A Space Odyssey if we did; or do we just wait until holograms are commonplace, thereby obviating the need for screens?
The customers don't like to see the groom embrace the bride
Unless her lips are scarlet and her bosom's five feet wide, in
Glorious Technicolor
Breath-taking Cinemascope,
or Cinerama, VistaVision, Superscope, or Todd-A-O
and stereophonic sound
and stereophonic sound
And there is the current discussion about styles of worship. On the one hand, we are blessed around the world with as many styles of worship as there are cultures, maybe even more. And there is an argument to be made that youth, especially, are drawn to newer forms of worship. So, some of the Emergent Churches look more like Starbucks than sanctuaries. But there is also that old adage, “what you win ‘em with is what you win ‘em to.” At what point do we quit trying to chase after the culture and, instead, present the Gospel, unplugged? It’s a tough call.
You all remember Lassie that beloved canine star
To see her wag her tail the crowds would come from near and far
But at present she'd be just another hound, unless she had
Glorious Technicolor
Breath-taking Cinemascope
and stereophonic sound
I have this theory I call “the Tomorrowland Terrace Syndrome”. As a teenager in the sixties, I remember when Disneyland, in an effort to be more “relevant (remember that term?)”, opened up the Tomorrowland Terrace to various “rock” groups – except they were actually more “pop” groups. I remember Gary Puckett and the Union Gap and the Osmonds (and I believe the Carpenters got their start there), but I don’t ever remember Led Zeppelin or the like. I’m not saying that’s a bad thing (in fact, I think it would have gone against the perceived Disney brand if they had), but I wonder how many people thought it was a lame attempt to be “in” by presenting pop groups as cutting edge rock.
I lately did a picture at the bottom of the sea
I rassled with an octopus and licked an anchovee
but the public wouldn't care if I had drowned, unless I had
Glorious Technicolor
Breath-taking Cinemascope
and stereophonic sound
I thank God for every technological advancement that enables His Gospel to be more effectively presented. Next time you’re sitting in worship (or searching Scripture passages on your computer, or watching a sermon on your iPhone), think of everything that brings glory to God and enhances your worship experience. Then consider if it was, at one time, a revolutionary technology (from pipe organs, to printed hymnals, to stained glass windows, to flying buttresses, to sound systems, to computer screens – and the list goes on and on). Then, let’s ask God to guide us as we move forward, always keeping in mind an unfiltered proclamation of His Gospel and an intimate connection with his other children:
There was a time when dancing was so intimate and sleek
A fellow hugged his partner as they cuddled cheek to cheek
Now he doesn't even know if she's around, because they're in
Glorious Technicolor
Breath-taking Cinemascope
and stereophonic sound
Maybe St Paul can give us some pointers in 1 Corinthians 2:1-2:
When I came to you, brothers and sisters, I did not come with eloquence or superior wisdom as I proclaimed to you the testimony about God. For I resolved to know nothing while I was with you except Jesus Christ and him crucified.
And you know, sometimes that ought to be enough.
by Cole Porter
If you want to get the crowd to come around, you gotta have
Glorious Technicolor
Breath-taking Cinemascope
and stereophonic sound!
It’s Fun-Time Friday once again! Today’s song is from Cole Porter’s penultimate musical, Silk Stockings. Set smack dab in the middle of the Cold War, the show roughly involves Soviet envoy Nina Yaschenko, who is dispatched to Paris to retrieve three Commissars who have fallen prey to “western decadence.” Plans go awry, however, when she meets theatrical agent Steven Canfield and he woos her with the fruits of capitalism (the “silk stockings” of the title). Thus, true love carries the day. As a secondary plot, motion picture swimming star Janice Dayton (think Esther Williams) has her sights on Peter Boroff, Russia’s greatest composer, to write her a musical adaptation of War and Peace. Based on the original story Ninotchka (the diminutive name of the lead character Nina), Silk Stockings opened on Broadway in 1955. A film version in 1957 starred Fred Astaire and Cyd Charisse.
In Act One, Steven and Janice sing about how it is becoming increasingly harder to bring in the audiences these days:
Today to get the public to attend a picture show
It's not enough to advertise a famous star they know
If you want to get the crowd to come around, you gotta have
Glorious Technicolor
Breath-taking Cinemascope
and stereophonic sound
I can relate to this theme on many levels. First, I have come to believe that we are the last family in America that does not have an HDTV. All my friends have been repurposing their armoires back into clothes closets (for the third time in the armoire’s life) as they hang their flat screens on the wall. And, I will admit, the results are glorious, breath-taking, and even hyper-stereophonic.
If Zanuck's latest picture were the good old-fashioned kind
There'd be no one in front to look at Marilyn's behind
If you want to hear applauding hands resound, you gotta have
Glorious Technicolor
Breath-taking Cinemascope
and stereophonic sound
Churches are also wrestling with how to incorporate new technology and modes of worship into their services. On the one hand, any new innovation was probably revolutionary when it was first introduced – think of what the pipe organ must have looked like to the first people who witnessed it in worship. But there may be times when something out of character with the setting may actually impede worship. In our own church, we are trying to figure out a way to work in a video screen (if indeed we can) into the beautiful, gothic Sanctuary. Do we try to add something that would undoubtedly aid in worship and instruction; would it be as obtrusive as that monolith in the bedroom in the final scene of 2001: A Space Odyssey if we did; or do we just wait until holograms are commonplace, thereby obviating the need for screens?
The customers don't like to see the groom embrace the bride
Unless her lips are scarlet and her bosom's five feet wide, in
Glorious Technicolor
Breath-taking Cinemascope,
or Cinerama, VistaVision, Superscope, or Todd-A-O
and stereophonic sound
and stereophonic sound
And there is the current discussion about styles of worship. On the one hand, we are blessed around the world with as many styles of worship as there are cultures, maybe even more. And there is an argument to be made that youth, especially, are drawn to newer forms of worship. So, some of the Emergent Churches look more like Starbucks than sanctuaries. But there is also that old adage, “what you win ‘em with is what you win ‘em to.” At what point do we quit trying to chase after the culture and, instead, present the Gospel, unplugged? It’s a tough call.
You all remember Lassie that beloved canine star
To see her wag her tail the crowds would come from near and far
But at present she'd be just another hound, unless she had
Glorious Technicolor
Breath-taking Cinemascope
and stereophonic sound
I have this theory I call “the Tomorrowland Terrace Syndrome”. As a teenager in the sixties, I remember when Disneyland, in an effort to be more “relevant (remember that term?)”, opened up the Tomorrowland Terrace to various “rock” groups – except they were actually more “pop” groups. I remember Gary Puckett and the Union Gap and the Osmonds (and I believe the Carpenters got their start there), but I don’t ever remember Led Zeppelin or the like. I’m not saying that’s a bad thing (in fact, I think it would have gone against the perceived Disney brand if they had), but I wonder how many people thought it was a lame attempt to be “in” by presenting pop groups as cutting edge rock.
I lately did a picture at the bottom of the sea
I rassled with an octopus and licked an anchovee
but the public wouldn't care if I had drowned, unless I had
Glorious Technicolor
Breath-taking Cinemascope
and stereophonic sound
I thank God for every technological advancement that enables His Gospel to be more effectively presented. Next time you’re sitting in worship (or searching Scripture passages on your computer, or watching a sermon on your iPhone), think of everything that brings glory to God and enhances your worship experience. Then consider if it was, at one time, a revolutionary technology (from pipe organs, to printed hymnals, to stained glass windows, to flying buttresses, to sound systems, to computer screens – and the list goes on and on). Then, let’s ask God to guide us as we move forward, always keeping in mind an unfiltered proclamation of His Gospel and an intimate connection with his other children:
There was a time when dancing was so intimate and sleek
A fellow hugged his partner as they cuddled cheek to cheek
Now he doesn't even know if she's around, because they're in
Glorious Technicolor
Breath-taking Cinemascope
and stereophonic sound
Maybe St Paul can give us some pointers in 1 Corinthians 2:1-2:
When I came to you, brothers and sisters, I did not come with eloquence or superior wisdom as I proclaimed to you the testimony about God. For I resolved to know nothing while I was with you except Jesus Christ and him crucified.
And you know, sometimes that ought to be enough.
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Un Bel Dì
Un Bel Dì
libretto by Luigi Illica and Giuseppe Giacosa
music by Giacomo Puccini
This will all come to pass as I tell you
Banish your idle fears, for he will return
I know it
– Butterfly, in Madama Butterfly
The next couple of posts may be a little sparse, so I apologize in advance. Today, though, let’s look briefly at the beautiful aria “One Fine Day” (Un Bel Dì) from Giacomo Puccini’s opera Madama Butterfly. Mr Puccini, an Italian, wrote one of the classics of all operadom, set in Japan and sung in Italian, about a US Naval officer and a beautiful, naïve, Japanese girl. In Act One, Butterfly and Lieutenant Pinkerton are married in an arranged ceremony. He returns to the United States and Butterfly spends all of Act Two and most of Act Three waiting for his return. We learn in the Second Act that the Lieutenant seems to think that the Japanese wedding “didn’t count”, and tragedy ensues in Act Three after Pinkerton returns to Japan with his American wife and child. In the middle of Act Two, though, Butterfly sings hopefully to her friend Suzuki about “un bel dì” in the by and by:
One fine day we’ll notice
A thread of smoke arising on the sea
In the far horizon
And then the ship appearing
The descending melodic line, vaguely pentatonic in nature, is as serene and beautiful as a cherry blossom floating earthward, or maybe a butterfly alighting. It captures Butterfly’s wistfulness and her knowledge that the outcome is not in her control. It also reminds me of a verse from that beautiful and powerful love story in the Bible:
What is that coming up from the wilderness,
Like a column of smoke,
Perfumed with myrrh and frankincense,
With all the fragrant powders of the merchant?
- Song of Solomon 3:6
We Christians, on this side of Easter, recognize the Song of Solomon as a sensuous and sensual depiction of Christ and His bride. Here is Butterfly singing again:
There is coming a man,
A little speck in the distance,
Climbing the hillock.
Can you guess who it is?
And when he’s reached the summit,
Can you guess what he’ll say?
He will call “Butterfly” from the distance.
And again from Solomon’s song (2:10-13):
My beloved speaks and says to me:
‘Arise my love, my fair one, and come away;
For now the winter in past,
The rain is over and gone.
The flowers appear on the earth:
The time of singing has come,
And the voice of the turtle-dove
Is heard in our land.
The fig tree puts forth its figs,
And the vines are in blossom;
They give forth fragrance.
Arise, my love, my fair one,
And come away.’
Butterfly looks forward to hearing again the affection inherent in the nicknames given her by her beloved:
He will call, he will call:
“Dear little wife of mine,
Dear little orange blossom!”
The names he used to call me when he came here.
As my friend Jim says, “the Lord knows you by your nickname.” We also learn of lovely names in chapter two of the Song of Songs:
Rose of Sharon
Lily of the Valley
Well, we know that Madama Butterfly ends in tragedy. But, thanks be to God, we have “a future and a hope” in the Lord. The story of His love for us is writ large on every page of the Bible, from the first chapter of Genesis to the final chapter of Revelation. Let’s close with this beautiful verse (22:17) from that last chapter:
The Spirit and the bride say, ‘Come.’
And let everyone who hears say, ‘Come.’
And let everyone who is thirsty come.
Let anyone who wishes take the water of life as a gift.
And, in this context, Butterfly got it exactly right:
This will all come to pass as I tell you
Banish your idle fears, for he will return
I know it
libretto by Luigi Illica and Giuseppe Giacosa
music by Giacomo Puccini
This will all come to pass as I tell you
Banish your idle fears, for he will return
I know it
– Butterfly, in Madama Butterfly
The next couple of posts may be a little sparse, so I apologize in advance. Today, though, let’s look briefly at the beautiful aria “One Fine Day” (Un Bel Dì) from Giacomo Puccini’s opera Madama Butterfly. Mr Puccini, an Italian, wrote one of the classics of all operadom, set in Japan and sung in Italian, about a US Naval officer and a beautiful, naïve, Japanese girl. In Act One, Butterfly and Lieutenant Pinkerton are married in an arranged ceremony. He returns to the United States and Butterfly spends all of Act Two and most of Act Three waiting for his return. We learn in the Second Act that the Lieutenant seems to think that the Japanese wedding “didn’t count”, and tragedy ensues in Act Three after Pinkerton returns to Japan with his American wife and child. In the middle of Act Two, though, Butterfly sings hopefully to her friend Suzuki about “un bel dì” in the by and by:
One fine day we’ll notice
A thread of smoke arising on the sea
In the far horizon
And then the ship appearing
The descending melodic line, vaguely pentatonic in nature, is as serene and beautiful as a cherry blossom floating earthward, or maybe a butterfly alighting. It captures Butterfly’s wistfulness and her knowledge that the outcome is not in her control. It also reminds me of a verse from that beautiful and powerful love story in the Bible:
What is that coming up from the wilderness,
Like a column of smoke,
Perfumed with myrrh and frankincense,
With all the fragrant powders of the merchant?
- Song of Solomon 3:6
We Christians, on this side of Easter, recognize the Song of Solomon as a sensuous and sensual depiction of Christ and His bride. Here is Butterfly singing again:
There is coming a man,
A little speck in the distance,
Climbing the hillock.
Can you guess who it is?
And when he’s reached the summit,
Can you guess what he’ll say?
He will call “Butterfly” from the distance.
And again from Solomon’s song (2:10-13):
My beloved speaks and says to me:
‘Arise my love, my fair one, and come away;
For now the winter in past,
The rain is over and gone.
The flowers appear on the earth:
The time of singing has come,
And the voice of the turtle-dove
Is heard in our land.
The fig tree puts forth its figs,
And the vines are in blossom;
They give forth fragrance.
Arise, my love, my fair one,
And come away.’
Butterfly looks forward to hearing again the affection inherent in the nicknames given her by her beloved:
He will call, he will call:
“Dear little wife of mine,
Dear little orange blossom!”
The names he used to call me when he came here.
As my friend Jim says, “the Lord knows you by your nickname.” We also learn of lovely names in chapter two of the Song of Songs:
Rose of Sharon
Lily of the Valley
Well, we know that Madama Butterfly ends in tragedy. But, thanks be to God, we have “a future and a hope” in the Lord. The story of His love for us is writ large on every page of the Bible, from the first chapter of Genesis to the final chapter of Revelation. Let’s close with this beautiful verse (22:17) from that last chapter:
The Spirit and the bride say, ‘Come.’
And let everyone who hears say, ‘Come.’
And let everyone who is thirsty come.
Let anyone who wishes take the water of life as a gift.
And, in this context, Butterfly got it exactly right:
This will all come to pass as I tell you
Banish your idle fears, for he will return
I know it
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Little Rock
Little Rock
by Bob DiPiero, Gerry House and Pat McManus
He sure loves his money
And I’m the one who pays the price
Hello, again. It’s Full of Woe Wednesday and I’m your host, Fuelgrip Skip. I told my brother Fireplug Doug that I might not be able to write for his little blog every week: believe it or not, I just can’t think of that many songs that I dislike. As I mentioned last week, there are probably thousands of songs that would set my teeth on edge (rap, punk, disco, atonal opera), but I just don’t listen to them. But then I remembered one of those “cheatin’ songs” in the Country Songbook. So here is this week’s candidate for Least Favorite Song, Little Rock by Reba McEntire.
Dennis Miller once said, “I got to thinking the other day that Mickey Mouse’s best friend is Goofy, who is a dog. And Mickey Mouse’s pet is Pluto, who is also a dog. And I just don’t think that’s right.” That, in essence, is my problem with this song. I'll try to explain.
I actually like Ms McEntire quite a bit. She’s a good ol’ Oklahoma gal from Stringtown, a champion barrel racer and a bit of a Renaissance Man (in that female country and western singer sort of way): albums, concerts, TV series, websites, perfumes, frozen dinners and other product lines – they all bear the Reba name. And I like her voice. She sings with that incipit (kind of like a little yodel) in her voice that is the hallmark of heirloom country singing – I’ll never forget the first time I heard LeeAnn Rimes warble her way through Blue – it was sheer Heaven. And even though I am horrified by what most other singers are doing these days with melisma (basically trying to cram as many notes into one syllable as possible), when Ms McEntire does it, it doesn’t bother me (although, thankfully, I’ve never heard her try to ululate through The Star-Spangled Banner – that would definitely change my opinion).
But Little Rock is a bridge too far. Actually, it’s two verses and a chorus too far, if you’ll pardon the expression. I know that many of you may be thinking that I’m actually taking out my frustrations on a certain former President through this song’s common zip code, but there is another country song titled Little Rock by Colin Raye and I think it’s terrific. Here’s a sample from Mr Raye's song:
I haven’t had a drink in 14 days
My eyes are finally clearing from the haze
I like the preacher down at the Church of Christ
Sorry that I cried when I called last night
I think I’m on a roll here in Little Rock
I’m solid as a stone, baby, wait and see
There’s only one small problem here in Little Rock:
Without you, baby, I’m not me
But I’m not here to write about good songs (that’s Fireplug’s job), so let’s hear from Reba:
Well I'm married to the good life
I said I'd be a good wife
When I put on this ring
I drive a new Mercedes
I play tennis with the ladies
I buy all the finer things
But all that don't mean nothing
When you can't get a good night's loving
There was a period when she went through a rash of songs about infidelity. Seems like she was really suspicious there for a while. Of course, looking back now at “When Whoever’s in New England’s Through with You” with the benefit of hindsight, I say “methinks she doth sing too much” about it.
Besides Ms McEntire, there seemed to be a whole spate of life imitating art moments in the country music world involving extramarital relations around this same time (see also Gill, Vince and Grant, Amy). Now, I’m certainly not here to stand in judgment of someone, and this isn’t some call for censorship, but I do wonder if people with artistic talent and a public forum could just think a little bit about the influence they might have on impressionable minds. I’m not saying there’s a straight line from Helter Skelter to Charles Manson or from The Matrix to Columbine, or even from Kenny G to brain-melting lasers, but to deny that art lacks any influencing or transformative power is, to me, a bigger slap in the face of the creative Muse than the people calling for censorship: at least those folks realize that creative energy, once loosed, is kinetic and not just potential. And for those of you who want to defend Ms McEntire with “a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do and, it’s just ‘art’, after all”, I just have two words for you: Leni Riefenstahl.
Actually, Ms McEntire has her own Triumph of the Will moment, when she reveals in the chorus the double meaning of the song’s title:
Oh, little rock
I think I’m gonna have to slip you off
Take a chance tonight and untie the knot
There’s more to life than what I’ve got . . .
Clever, huh? It actually is rather, and to me, that’s the whole problem with the song. Without reference to its message, I’d tell Dick Clark I gave the song an 86 (good beat, easy to listen to – I don’t dance). Of course, the problem is, the infectious, bouncy music has already set the song’s hooks in me before I’ve started processing the words.
Oh, little rock
You know this heart of mine just can't be bought
I'm gonna find someone who really cares a lot
When I slip off this little rock
Well, we already know what’s going to happen and we know that nothing’s going to stop her, but for some reason, she feels the need to use all of verse two to further build her case:
Well I wonder if he'll miss me
He doesn't even kiss me
When he comes home at night
He never calls me honey
But he sure loves his money
And I'm the one who pays the price
But when he finds this ring he'll see
He keeps everything but me
Look, I’m not trying to be callous: this guy sounds like a loser. And the sad thing is, it sounds like Ms McEntire’s denouement is a win-win – she gets her freedom and he gets his stuff. I’m just saying there should be more. I’d like to have seen a verse that talks about counseling and prayer and heart-wrenching decisions – or maybe if the song could have just been slower and in a minor key. Instead, we get a yee-haw, pedal-to-the-metal, fire-all-the-guns-at-once, good-timin’ song about two-timin’. And I just don't think that's right.
If I may try my hand at the chorus:
Oh woe, whoa,
Little Rock
by Bob DiPiero, Gerry House and Pat McManus
He sure loves his money
And I’m the one who pays the price
Hello, again. It’s Full of Woe Wednesday and I’m your host, Fuelgrip Skip. I told my brother Fireplug Doug that I might not be able to write for his little blog every week: believe it or not, I just can’t think of that many songs that I dislike. As I mentioned last week, there are probably thousands of songs that would set my teeth on edge (rap, punk, disco, atonal opera), but I just don’t listen to them. But then I remembered one of those “cheatin’ songs” in the Country Songbook. So here is this week’s candidate for Least Favorite Song, Little Rock by Reba McEntire.
Dennis Miller once said, “I got to thinking the other day that Mickey Mouse’s best friend is Goofy, who is a dog. And Mickey Mouse’s pet is Pluto, who is also a dog. And I just don’t think that’s right.” That, in essence, is my problem with this song. I'll try to explain.
I actually like Ms McEntire quite a bit. She’s a good ol’ Oklahoma gal from Stringtown, a champion barrel racer and a bit of a Renaissance Man (in that female country and western singer sort of way): albums, concerts, TV series, websites, perfumes, frozen dinners and other product lines – they all bear the Reba name. And I like her voice. She sings with that incipit (kind of like a little yodel) in her voice that is the hallmark of heirloom country singing – I’ll never forget the first time I heard LeeAnn Rimes warble her way through Blue – it was sheer Heaven. And even though I am horrified by what most other singers are doing these days with melisma (basically trying to cram as many notes into one syllable as possible), when Ms McEntire does it, it doesn’t bother me (although, thankfully, I’ve never heard her try to ululate through The Star-Spangled Banner – that would definitely change my opinion).
But Little Rock is a bridge too far. Actually, it’s two verses and a chorus too far, if you’ll pardon the expression. I know that many of you may be thinking that I’m actually taking out my frustrations on a certain former President through this song’s common zip code, but there is another country song titled Little Rock by Colin Raye and I think it’s terrific. Here’s a sample from Mr Raye's song:
I haven’t had a drink in 14 days
My eyes are finally clearing from the haze
I like the preacher down at the Church of Christ
Sorry that I cried when I called last night
I think I’m on a roll here in Little Rock
I’m solid as a stone, baby, wait and see
There’s only one small problem here in Little Rock:
Without you, baby, I’m not me
But I’m not here to write about good songs (that’s Fireplug’s job), so let’s hear from Reba:
Well I'm married to the good life
I said I'd be a good wife
When I put on this ring
I drive a new Mercedes
I play tennis with the ladies
I buy all the finer things
But all that don't mean nothing
When you can't get a good night's loving
There was a period when she went through a rash of songs about infidelity. Seems like she was really suspicious there for a while. Of course, looking back now at “When Whoever’s in New England’s Through with You” with the benefit of hindsight, I say “methinks she doth sing too much” about it.
Besides Ms McEntire, there seemed to be a whole spate of life imitating art moments in the country music world involving extramarital relations around this same time (see also Gill, Vince and Grant, Amy). Now, I’m certainly not here to stand in judgment of someone, and this isn’t some call for censorship, but I do wonder if people with artistic talent and a public forum could just think a little bit about the influence they might have on impressionable minds. I’m not saying there’s a straight line from Helter Skelter to Charles Manson or from The Matrix to Columbine, or even from Kenny G to brain-melting lasers, but to deny that art lacks any influencing or transformative power is, to me, a bigger slap in the face of the creative Muse than the people calling for censorship: at least those folks realize that creative energy, once loosed, is kinetic and not just potential. And for those of you who want to defend Ms McEntire with “a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do and, it’s just ‘art’, after all”, I just have two words for you: Leni Riefenstahl.
Actually, Ms McEntire has her own Triumph of the Will moment, when she reveals in the chorus the double meaning of the song’s title:
Oh, little rock
I think I’m gonna have to slip you off
Take a chance tonight and untie the knot
There’s more to life than what I’ve got . . .
Clever, huh? It actually is rather, and to me, that’s the whole problem with the song. Without reference to its message, I’d tell Dick Clark I gave the song an 86 (good beat, easy to listen to – I don’t dance). Of course, the problem is, the infectious, bouncy music has already set the song’s hooks in me before I’ve started processing the words.
Oh, little rock
You know this heart of mine just can't be bought
I'm gonna find someone who really cares a lot
When I slip off this little rock
Well, we already know what’s going to happen and we know that nothing’s going to stop her, but for some reason, she feels the need to use all of verse two to further build her case:
Well I wonder if he'll miss me
He doesn't even kiss me
When he comes home at night
He never calls me honey
But he sure loves his money
And I'm the one who pays the price
But when he finds this ring he'll see
He keeps everything but me
Look, I’m not trying to be callous: this guy sounds like a loser. And the sad thing is, it sounds like Ms McEntire’s denouement is a win-win – she gets her freedom and he gets his stuff. I’m just saying there should be more. I’d like to have seen a verse that talks about counseling and prayer and heart-wrenching decisions – or maybe if the song could have just been slower and in a minor key. Instead, we get a yee-haw, pedal-to-the-metal, fire-all-the-guns-at-once, good-timin’ song about two-timin’. And I just don't think that's right.
If I may try my hand at the chorus:
Oh woe, whoa,
Little Rock
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Pretty Women
Pretty Women
by Stephen Sondheim
Proof of Heaven
as you’re living,
Pretty Women!
- Sweeney Todd and Judge Turpin, in Sweeney Todd, the Demon Barber of Fleet Street
Sometimes you find love songs where you least expect them. And sometimes the most unlikely pair sings a duet. Now, I’m not just talking about those strange hybrid albums that Frank Sinatra, Barbra Streisand, Tony Bennett, and just about every popular music icon feels obliged to make these days. That’s Minor League – although I would be interested to know what you think the strangest pairing is to date (and no fair using Celine Dion).
For my money, I would pick the beautiful duet Pretty Women from the aforementioned Sweeney Todd, the Demon Barber of Fleet Street. The two men singing together could not be more different, but they are rhapsodizing about women in general and about the same particular woman – well, in particular:
Pretty women
Fascinating,
Sipping coffee,
Dancing . . .
Pretty women
Are a wonder.
Pretty women!
Sitting in the window or
Standing on the stair
Something in them cheers the air.
It is a beautiful, uplifting piece of music – and it couldn’t be more inapposite to the story’s arc. If you are unfamiliar with the storyline for Sweeney Todd, I’m not sure I can get you up to speed here (even the “synopsis” on Wikipedia runs for a couple of hundred lines of text). Suffice it to say, Fleet Street in London is light years removed from Main Street in River City, Iowa: the world of Sweeney Todd is an unrelentingly dark place of revenge, murder, cannibalism, dashed dreams and bad food. Sweeney (whose former name was Benjamin Barker) was a naïve, young barber. The wicked, corrupt Judge Turpin coveted Benjamin’s beautiful wife and so he had Barker sent to Australia’s penal colonies for 15 years on trumped-up charges. (Think Uriah and David, except Mrs Barker was not a willing Bathsheba.) When Barker returns to London, he believes his wife has died. Driven mad with grief and revenge, he adopts the new name of Sweeney Todd and opens a barber shop for the purpose of someday getting the Judge into his chair. In the meantime, he “will practice on less honorable throats.” And he does.
One day, the fates smile on Sweeney. Judge Turpin enters the shop and requests a shave. As he settles into the chair, Sweeney raises his freshly honed razor high. But then, even at this most opportune moment, Sweeney is overtaken by love’s power, and even the dark-hearted Judge joins him in song:
Pretty women
Silhouetted,
Stay within you,
Glancing . . .
Stay forever,
Breathing lightly,
Pretty women,
Pretty women!
Blowing out their candles or
Combing out their hair,
Even when they leave
They still are there.
They're there
Musically, the song Pretty Women also differs from every other moment in the show. Mr Sondheim populates every song with the augmented fourth “tritone” interval (also called “the devil’s interval” in music). Pretty Women is filled with the tritone, as well, but instead of using it as dissonance, Mr Sondheim utilizes it as a leading tone continually calling us upward to a new chord. Similarly, every song in the show uses the four-note theme of the Dies Irae (Day of Wrath) in the Latin Requiem. You’ll notice that Pretty Women is filled with four-syllable phrases (“pretty women”, “fascinating”, sipping coffee” and the like). But here, the Dies Irae musical theme is literally turned upside down (get it?) as the two men sing the glories of women:
Ah!
Pretty women,
at their mirrors,
in their gardens,
letter-writing,
flower-picking,
weather-watching.
How they make a man sing!
Proof of heaven as you're living,
Pretty women! Yes, pretty women!
Here's to pretty women,
Pretty women,
Pretty women,
Pretty women . . .
Well, their reverie is interrupted and the razor misses its mark, at least for the time being. But there is a whole Act and a quarter left in the show, and the darkness gets worse. Sweeney Todd is not a “musical comedy” by any stretch. In fact, depending on the venue and singers, it is sometimes performed as an “opera”. But “musical tragedy” might be a more appropriate term (especially in the classical definition of a “tragedy”), if there is such a thing.
We could go a lot of different ways with today’s post. There’s the “vengeance is mine, sayeth the Lord” aspect of Deuteronomy 32:35 (quoted in Romans 12:19). There’s the warning in Philippians 3:19 about people “whose God is their belly, and whose glory is in their shame, who mind earthly things” . . . “and whose end is destruction”. But let’s focus today on the Virtuous Woman of Proverbs 31. The Book of Proverbs ends with a bang, and these last verses, talking about the “wife of noble character”, are an acrostic poem: each successive verse begins with the next letter of the Hebrew alphabet. So, just like Pretty Women’s tritone interval that keeps leading us upward, so the Virtuous Woman’s verses call us to the next letter and to nobler characteristics:
10 A wife of noble character who can find?
She is worth far more than rubies.
11 Her husband has full confidence in her
and lacks nothing of value.
12 She brings him good, not harm,
all the days of her life.
13 She selects wool and flax
and works with eager hands.
14 She is like the merchant ships,
bringing her food from afar.
15 She gets up while it is still night;
she provides food for her family
and portions for her women servants.
16 She considers a field and buys it;
out of her earnings she plants a vineyard.
17 She sets about her work vigorously;
her arms are strong for her tasks.
18 She sees that her trading is profitable,
and her lamp does not go out at night.
19 In her hand she holds the distaff
and grasps the spindle with her fingers.
20 She opens her arms to the poor
and extends her hands to the needy.
21 When it snows, she has no fear for her household;
for all of them are clothed in scarlet.
22 She makes coverings for her bed;
she is clothed in fine linen and purple.
23 Her husband is respected at the city gate,
where he takes his seat among the elders of the land.
24 She makes linen garments and sells them,
and supplies the merchants with sashes.
25 She is clothed with strength and dignity;
she can laugh at the days to come.
26 She speaks with wisdom,
and faithful instruction is on her tongue.
27 She watches over the affairs of her household
and does not eat the bread of idleness.
28 Her children arise and call her blessed;
her husband also, and he praises her:
29 "Many women do noble things,
but you surpass them all."
30 Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting;
but a woman who fears the LORD is to be praised.
31 Honor her for all that her hands have done,
and let her works bring her praise at the city gate.
One more thing: today is my cousin Ellen’s birthday. She is all those things described above: pretty woman, wife of noble character, PhD, devoted mother, professor, teller of good jokes, and even appreciator of Broadway musicals – tragedies, comedies, or otherwise. Happy Birthday, Ellen!
by Stephen Sondheim
Proof of Heaven
as you’re living,
Pretty Women!
- Sweeney Todd and Judge Turpin, in Sweeney Todd, the Demon Barber of Fleet Street
Sometimes you find love songs where you least expect them. And sometimes the most unlikely pair sings a duet. Now, I’m not just talking about those strange hybrid albums that Frank Sinatra, Barbra Streisand, Tony Bennett, and just about every popular music icon feels obliged to make these days. That’s Minor League – although I would be interested to know what you think the strangest pairing is to date (and no fair using Celine Dion).
For my money, I would pick the beautiful duet Pretty Women from the aforementioned Sweeney Todd, the Demon Barber of Fleet Street. The two men singing together could not be more different, but they are rhapsodizing about women in general and about the same particular woman – well, in particular:
Pretty women
Fascinating,
Sipping coffee,
Dancing . . .
Pretty women
Are a wonder.
Pretty women!
Sitting in the window or
Standing on the stair
Something in them cheers the air.
It is a beautiful, uplifting piece of music – and it couldn’t be more inapposite to the story’s arc. If you are unfamiliar with the storyline for Sweeney Todd, I’m not sure I can get you up to speed here (even the “synopsis” on Wikipedia runs for a couple of hundred lines of text). Suffice it to say, Fleet Street in London is light years removed from Main Street in River City, Iowa: the world of Sweeney Todd is an unrelentingly dark place of revenge, murder, cannibalism, dashed dreams and bad food. Sweeney (whose former name was Benjamin Barker) was a naïve, young barber. The wicked, corrupt Judge Turpin coveted Benjamin’s beautiful wife and so he had Barker sent to Australia’s penal colonies for 15 years on trumped-up charges. (Think Uriah and David, except Mrs Barker was not a willing Bathsheba.) When Barker returns to London, he believes his wife has died. Driven mad with grief and revenge, he adopts the new name of Sweeney Todd and opens a barber shop for the purpose of someday getting the Judge into his chair. In the meantime, he “will practice on less honorable throats.” And he does.
One day, the fates smile on Sweeney. Judge Turpin enters the shop and requests a shave. As he settles into the chair, Sweeney raises his freshly honed razor high. But then, even at this most opportune moment, Sweeney is overtaken by love’s power, and even the dark-hearted Judge joins him in song:
Pretty women
Silhouetted,
Stay within you,
Glancing . . .
Stay forever,
Breathing lightly,
Pretty women,
Pretty women!
Blowing out their candles or
Combing out their hair,
Even when they leave
They still are there.
They're there
Musically, the song Pretty Women also differs from every other moment in the show. Mr Sondheim populates every song with the augmented fourth “tritone” interval (also called “the devil’s interval” in music). Pretty Women is filled with the tritone, as well, but instead of using it as dissonance, Mr Sondheim utilizes it as a leading tone continually calling us upward to a new chord. Similarly, every song in the show uses the four-note theme of the Dies Irae (Day of Wrath) in the Latin Requiem. You’ll notice that Pretty Women is filled with four-syllable phrases (“pretty women”, “fascinating”, sipping coffee” and the like). But here, the Dies Irae musical theme is literally turned upside down (get it?) as the two men sing the glories of women:
Ah!
Pretty women,
at their mirrors,
in their gardens,
letter-writing,
flower-picking,
weather-watching.
How they make a man sing!
Proof of heaven as you're living,
Pretty women! Yes, pretty women!
Here's to pretty women,
Pretty women,
Pretty women,
Pretty women . . .
Well, their reverie is interrupted and the razor misses its mark, at least for the time being. But there is a whole Act and a quarter left in the show, and the darkness gets worse. Sweeney Todd is not a “musical comedy” by any stretch. In fact, depending on the venue and singers, it is sometimes performed as an “opera”. But “musical tragedy” might be a more appropriate term (especially in the classical definition of a “tragedy”), if there is such a thing.
We could go a lot of different ways with today’s post. There’s the “vengeance is mine, sayeth the Lord” aspect of Deuteronomy 32:35 (quoted in Romans 12:19). There’s the warning in Philippians 3:19 about people “whose God is their belly, and whose glory is in their shame, who mind earthly things” . . . “and whose end is destruction”. But let’s focus today on the Virtuous Woman of Proverbs 31. The Book of Proverbs ends with a bang, and these last verses, talking about the “wife of noble character”, are an acrostic poem: each successive verse begins with the next letter of the Hebrew alphabet. So, just like Pretty Women’s tritone interval that keeps leading us upward, so the Virtuous Woman’s verses call us to the next letter and to nobler characteristics:
10 A wife of noble character who can find?
She is worth far more than rubies.
11 Her husband has full confidence in her
and lacks nothing of value.
12 She brings him good, not harm,
all the days of her life.
13 She selects wool and flax
and works with eager hands.
14 She is like the merchant ships,
bringing her food from afar.
15 She gets up while it is still night;
she provides food for her family
and portions for her women servants.
16 She considers a field and buys it;
out of her earnings she plants a vineyard.
17 She sets about her work vigorously;
her arms are strong for her tasks.
18 She sees that her trading is profitable,
and her lamp does not go out at night.
19 In her hand she holds the distaff
and grasps the spindle with her fingers.
20 She opens her arms to the poor
and extends her hands to the needy.
21 When it snows, she has no fear for her household;
for all of them are clothed in scarlet.
22 She makes coverings for her bed;
she is clothed in fine linen and purple.
23 Her husband is respected at the city gate,
where he takes his seat among the elders of the land.
24 She makes linen garments and sells them,
and supplies the merchants with sashes.
25 She is clothed with strength and dignity;
she can laugh at the days to come.
26 She speaks with wisdom,
and faithful instruction is on her tongue.
27 She watches over the affairs of her household
and does not eat the bread of idleness.
28 Her children arise and call her blessed;
her husband also, and he praises her:
29 "Many women do noble things,
but you surpass them all."
30 Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting;
but a woman who fears the LORD is to be praised.
31 Honor her for all that her hands have done,
and let her works bring her praise at the city gate.
One more thing: today is my cousin Ellen’s birthday. She is all those things described above: pretty woman, wife of noble character, PhD, devoted mother, professor, teller of good jokes, and even appreciator of Broadway musicals – tragedies, comedies, or otherwise. Happy Birthday, Ellen!
Monday, February 18, 2008
Graceland
Graceland
by Paul Simon
I have reason to believe we all will be received in Graceland
Today’s song is both the name of an album and the name of a song on the album by Paul Simon. Of course, it also refers to Elvis Presley’s mansion in Memphis, but I think the song is pointing us toward something even deeper and more important. The whole concept of grace is – well, it’s amazing, or course, and it is a sine qua non of Christian – especially reformed Christian – theology. At least four times in the New Testament we learn that “it is by grace you have been saved, through faith – and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God (Ephesians 2:8, and also Acts 15:11, Ephesians 2:5 and 2 Timothy 1:9).”
Mr Simon shares the sometimes unknowable sense of our wanting to get close to something as he travels to one of popular music’s shrines:
The Mississippi Delta was shining
Like a National guitar
I am following the river
Down the highway
Through the cradle of the civil war
The album Graceland was considered as breaking new musical ground in 1986 because Mr Simon used African tribal rhythms and melodies in ten of the twelve songs (the other two songs utilized Cajun Zydeco and Mexican rock). This weaving of African musical themes into popular music is not new. Back in 1939, African singer Solomon Linda recorded a song called Mbube (the Zulu word for “lion”). It became a hit throughout South Africa in the 1940s and eventually came to the attention of Pete Seeger. When his group, the Weavers, recorded the song in 1952, they mispronounced the song’s original chorus of Uyimbube (meaning “you’re a lion”) as Wimoweh (that answers a question I’ve always had) and The Lion Sleeps Tonight thus began to find its way into the American (and hence the world’s) consciousness – through Jimmy Dorsey, the Kingston Trio, the Tokens’ number-one hit in 1961, Robert John, Brian Eno, NSYNC, countless renditions in movies and sitcoms, and on to Timon and Pumbaa in The Lion King.
I also remember listening to a record in college where a composer had recorded African tribal chants and then constructed a Mass around them. One of my all-time favorite works, French composer Maurice Duruflé’s Requiem, mixes Gregorian chant with impressionism. The Paul Winter Group incorporated the sounds of an eagle, a whale and a wolf throughout their pop-tinged jazz (or maybe it was jazz-tinged pop) album Common Ground, but even as early as 1924, a recording of Ottorino Respighi’s The Pines of Rome included the recording of a nightingale singing. And the musique concretè of Karlheinz Stockhausen and other composers influenced the Beatles in Revolution Number 9, paving the way for the sampled and digitized sounds that permeate much of rap, rock and techno today.
I'm going to Graceland
Graceland
In Memphis Tennessee
I'm going to Graceland
Poorboys and Pilgrims with families
And we are going to Graceland
I spent the better part of the summer of 1973 in Memphis and have seen these pilgrims and their families first-hand. It was amazing to me that you could drive by the Graceland estate any time, day or night, and there would be lines of people at the gate. Women would stick bouquets of flowers in the wrought iron. People would write notes on the stone of the fence. And this was four years before Elvis “died” (if you believe that sort of thing). I wonder what on earth the scene looks like today.
My traveling companion is nine years old
He is the child of my first marriage
But I've reason to believe
We both will be received
In Graceland
There is great expectation and it makes us want to get up and go. The shepherds on that first Christmas Night wanted to do the same thing. So did the Wise Men. And when the disciples left their fishing nets to join Jesus, it was in response to an intriguing invitation. Then, there was the woman with the issue of blood that thought, “if I can just touch the hem of His garment, I will be made well (Matthew 9:21 and Mark 5:28 and see also Luke 8:44).”
Sometimes, like the woman, our desire to arise and go is because of tragedy or a lack of wholeness:
And I see losing love
Is like a window in your heart
Everybody sees you're blown apart
Everybody sees the wind blow
Poets focus on this condition a lot. William Butler Yeats, in his poem, The Second Coming, reflects on this relational entropy: “things fall apart: the center cannot hold.” Yeats’ poem, at only 22 lines, nevertheless introduced the culture to many new phrases, including “the falcon cannot hear the falconer” and the famous last line describing the beast that “slouches towards Bethlehem”.
This final imagery struck a chord with a lot of people. Joan Didion titled her collection of essays Slouching Towards Bethlehem. Judge Robert Bork’s book is Slouching Towards Gomorrah. The Loud Family rock group named their 1993 album Slouching Towards Liverpool as a nod to another four-man rock band. There is also a video game titled Slouching Towards Bedlam, which takes place, in part, inside Bethlehem (Bedlam) Hospital. Now, here’s an interesting thought: I wonder if a college’s English department has ever made T-shirts with the phrase Slouching Towards Bedlam to show their antipathy about football games against their state rivals? But I digress. Paul Simon is much more upbeat about his pilgrimage:
Sometimes when I'm falling, flying
Or tumbling in turmoil I say
Oh, so this is what she means
She means we're bouncing into Graceland
And then Mr Simon admits that this pilgrimage is larger than his understanding:
For reasons I cannot explain
There's some part of me wants to see
Graceland
I know how he feels. I like Elvis Presley’s early stuff a lot, but never could understand the whole overblown sequined jumpsuit era. For some reason, though, I would like to see Graceland. A couple of years ago, my friend’s daughter announced she was going to get married at the Graceland Chapel on the grounds (I love capitalism, I really do). I know it might sound horrifying, but I was actually disappointed when she changed her mind: I wanted an excuse to go there. In a larger sense, though, we sometimes know we need to be somewhere even when our minds don’t know why. Turin, Fatima, Lourdes, St Peter’s Basilica, Westminster Abbey, the Holy Land – they all call their pilgrims. When our pilgrimage is only out of thinking that there might be a “magic bullet” or a talisman, that’s probably not healthy. But, when we go in response to a deep and unfathomable longing to be close to the Master – when we yield to the Holy Spirit as the wind that blows us where it will – then we are in the land of grace indeed.
And I may be obliged to defend
Every love, every ending
Or maybe there's no obligations now
Maybe I've a reason to believe
We all will be received
In Graceland
And the Master invites us in Matthew 11:28: “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.”
by Paul Simon
I have reason to believe we all will be received in Graceland
Today’s song is both the name of an album and the name of a song on the album by Paul Simon. Of course, it also refers to Elvis Presley’s mansion in Memphis, but I think the song is pointing us toward something even deeper and more important. The whole concept of grace is – well, it’s amazing, or course, and it is a sine qua non of Christian – especially reformed Christian – theology. At least four times in the New Testament we learn that “it is by grace you have been saved, through faith – and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God (Ephesians 2:8, and also Acts 15:11, Ephesians 2:5 and 2 Timothy 1:9).”
Mr Simon shares the sometimes unknowable sense of our wanting to get close to something as he travels to one of popular music’s shrines:
The Mississippi Delta was shining
Like a National guitar
I am following the river
Down the highway
Through the cradle of the civil war
The album Graceland was considered as breaking new musical ground in 1986 because Mr Simon used African tribal rhythms and melodies in ten of the twelve songs (the other two songs utilized Cajun Zydeco and Mexican rock). This weaving of African musical themes into popular music is not new. Back in 1939, African singer Solomon Linda recorded a song called Mbube (the Zulu word for “lion”). It became a hit throughout South Africa in the 1940s and eventually came to the attention of Pete Seeger. When his group, the Weavers, recorded the song in 1952, they mispronounced the song’s original chorus of Uyimbube (meaning “you’re a lion”) as Wimoweh (that answers a question I’ve always had) and The Lion Sleeps Tonight thus began to find its way into the American (and hence the world’s) consciousness – through Jimmy Dorsey, the Kingston Trio, the Tokens’ number-one hit in 1961, Robert John, Brian Eno, NSYNC, countless renditions in movies and sitcoms, and on to Timon and Pumbaa in The Lion King.
I also remember listening to a record in college where a composer had recorded African tribal chants and then constructed a Mass around them. One of my all-time favorite works, French composer Maurice Duruflé’s Requiem, mixes Gregorian chant with impressionism. The Paul Winter Group incorporated the sounds of an eagle, a whale and a wolf throughout their pop-tinged jazz (or maybe it was jazz-tinged pop) album Common Ground, but even as early as 1924, a recording of Ottorino Respighi’s The Pines of Rome included the recording of a nightingale singing. And the musique concretè of Karlheinz Stockhausen and other composers influenced the Beatles in Revolution Number 9, paving the way for the sampled and digitized sounds that permeate much of rap, rock and techno today.
I'm going to Graceland
Graceland
In Memphis Tennessee
I'm going to Graceland
Poorboys and Pilgrims with families
And we are going to Graceland
I spent the better part of the summer of 1973 in Memphis and have seen these pilgrims and their families first-hand. It was amazing to me that you could drive by the Graceland estate any time, day or night, and there would be lines of people at the gate. Women would stick bouquets of flowers in the wrought iron. People would write notes on the stone of the fence. And this was four years before Elvis “died” (if you believe that sort of thing). I wonder what on earth the scene looks like today.
My traveling companion is nine years old
He is the child of my first marriage
But I've reason to believe
We both will be received
In Graceland
There is great expectation and it makes us want to get up and go. The shepherds on that first Christmas Night wanted to do the same thing. So did the Wise Men. And when the disciples left their fishing nets to join Jesus, it was in response to an intriguing invitation. Then, there was the woman with the issue of blood that thought, “if I can just touch the hem of His garment, I will be made well (Matthew 9:21 and Mark 5:28 and see also Luke 8:44).”
Sometimes, like the woman, our desire to arise and go is because of tragedy or a lack of wholeness:
And I see losing love
Is like a window in your heart
Everybody sees you're blown apart
Everybody sees the wind blow
Poets focus on this condition a lot. William Butler Yeats, in his poem, The Second Coming, reflects on this relational entropy: “things fall apart: the center cannot hold.” Yeats’ poem, at only 22 lines, nevertheless introduced the culture to many new phrases, including “the falcon cannot hear the falconer” and the famous last line describing the beast that “slouches towards Bethlehem”.
This final imagery struck a chord with a lot of people. Joan Didion titled her collection of essays Slouching Towards Bethlehem. Judge Robert Bork’s book is Slouching Towards Gomorrah. The Loud Family rock group named their 1993 album Slouching Towards Liverpool as a nod to another four-man rock band. There is also a video game titled Slouching Towards Bedlam, which takes place, in part, inside Bethlehem (Bedlam) Hospital. Now, here’s an interesting thought: I wonder if a college’s English department has ever made T-shirts with the phrase Slouching Towards Bedlam to show their antipathy about football games against their state rivals? But I digress. Paul Simon is much more upbeat about his pilgrimage:
Sometimes when I'm falling, flying
Or tumbling in turmoil I say
Oh, so this is what she means
She means we're bouncing into Graceland
And then Mr Simon admits that this pilgrimage is larger than his understanding:
For reasons I cannot explain
There's some part of me wants to see
Graceland
I know how he feels. I like Elvis Presley’s early stuff a lot, but never could understand the whole overblown sequined jumpsuit era. For some reason, though, I would like to see Graceland. A couple of years ago, my friend’s daughter announced she was going to get married at the Graceland Chapel on the grounds (I love capitalism, I really do). I know it might sound horrifying, but I was actually disappointed when she changed her mind: I wanted an excuse to go there. In a larger sense, though, we sometimes know we need to be somewhere even when our minds don’t know why. Turin, Fatima, Lourdes, St Peter’s Basilica, Westminster Abbey, the Holy Land – they all call their pilgrims. When our pilgrimage is only out of thinking that there might be a “magic bullet” or a talisman, that’s probably not healthy. But, when we go in response to a deep and unfathomable longing to be close to the Master – when we yield to the Holy Spirit as the wind that blows us where it will – then we are in the land of grace indeed.
And I may be obliged to defend
Every love, every ending
Or maybe there's no obligations now
Maybe I've a reason to believe
We all will be received
In Graceland
And the Master invites us in Matthew 11:28: “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.”
Saturday, February 16, 2008
I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For
I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For
by Paul David Hewson (aka Bono)
Funny how your life can change, just like that. This morning, I was writing about some cheery Broadway tune (well actually, it was Stephen Sondheim's Pretty Women from Sweeney Todd, the Demon Barber of Fleet Street, so it wasn’t really that upbeat). But then, as I was actually walking into a real-live barber shop, I got a call. Paul, the 24-year old son of my friends Jane and Barry, had died. And so today Broadway, even Sondheim, can wait.
He had a great name: first name Paul, middle name Jacob. Two giants of Scripture – one from the Old Testament, one from the New – recognizing the common Lord of his parents. He grew up to be quite a handsome young man. In my mind’s eye, though, I’ll always remember Paul as a four-year old, when he and my daughter came running into the living room during one dinner party to lead all of us adults in “The Care Bear Stare.” He was blessed with a loving father and a loving mother, a loving sister, a loving step-dad and a loving step-mom, not to mention grandparents, uncles, aunts, and friends.
Paul liked lots of different kinds of music. Two of his favorites were by Frank Sinatra and U2. This one is also one of my favorites, and I particularly liked that it was written and performed by another Paul with an Old Testament middle name – an Irishman who goes by the stage name of Bono. I can’t improve on Bono's lyrics, so here they are, straight through.
I have climbed the highest mountains
I have run through the fields
Only to be with you
Only to be with you
I have run I have crawled
I have scaled these city walls
Only to be with you
But I still haven't found
What I'm looking for
But I still haven't found
What I'm looking for
I have kissed honey lips
Felt the healing fingertips
It burned like fire
This burning desire
I have spoke with the tongue of angels
I have held the hand of a devil
It was warm in the night
I was cold as a stone
But I still haven't found
What I'm looking for
But I still haven't found
What I'm looking for
I believe in the Kingdom Come
When all the colors will bleed into one
But yes I'm still running
You broke the bonds
You loosened the chains
You carried the cross
And my shame
And my shame
You know I believe it
But I still haven't found
What I'm looking for
But I still haven't found
What I'm looking for
Nothing eases a family’s pain in times like this, but for those of us a little farther back from grief’s epicenter, I find comfort in a couple of things. First, in Paul I saw a sensitive young man who was searching for what was real and true in life. And then the best news: his search is over and it is he – and all of us – who is found. Consider this, from both of Paul’s spiritual heritages. From the prophet Isaiah, “In the Lord, all the descendants of Israel will be found righteous and will exult (Isaiah 45:25).” And from the New Testament, we know of the Good Shepherd who "came to seek and save the lost (Luke 19:10)." Or as we sing in Amazing Grace: “I once was lost, but now am found.” That’s great news for all of us and I hope words of comfort to hearts that are breaking.
Give your kids an extra big hug tonight. Say an extra prayer. And know that the end of all our climbing, running, crawling, scaling, kissing, healing, speaking, holding, and believing is in our finding by the Lord. And for every single moment, from the Garden until right this very instant, the Lord has gone through everything imaginable to find you, “only to be with you.”
by Paul David Hewson (aka Bono)
Funny how your life can change, just like that. This morning, I was writing about some cheery Broadway tune (well actually, it was Stephen Sondheim's Pretty Women from Sweeney Todd, the Demon Barber of Fleet Street, so it wasn’t really that upbeat). But then, as I was actually walking into a real-live barber shop, I got a call. Paul, the 24-year old son of my friends Jane and Barry, had died. And so today Broadway, even Sondheim, can wait.
He had a great name: first name Paul, middle name Jacob. Two giants of Scripture – one from the Old Testament, one from the New – recognizing the common Lord of his parents. He grew up to be quite a handsome young man. In my mind’s eye, though, I’ll always remember Paul as a four-year old, when he and my daughter came running into the living room during one dinner party to lead all of us adults in “The Care Bear Stare.” He was blessed with a loving father and a loving mother, a loving sister, a loving step-dad and a loving step-mom, not to mention grandparents, uncles, aunts, and friends.
Paul liked lots of different kinds of music. Two of his favorites were by Frank Sinatra and U2. This one is also one of my favorites, and I particularly liked that it was written and performed by another Paul with an Old Testament middle name – an Irishman who goes by the stage name of Bono. I can’t improve on Bono's lyrics, so here they are, straight through.
I have climbed the highest mountains
I have run through the fields
Only to be with you
Only to be with you
I have run I have crawled
I have scaled these city walls
Only to be with you
But I still haven't found
What I'm looking for
But I still haven't found
What I'm looking for
I have kissed honey lips
Felt the healing fingertips
It burned like fire
This burning desire
I have spoke with the tongue of angels
I have held the hand of a devil
It was warm in the night
I was cold as a stone
But I still haven't found
What I'm looking for
But I still haven't found
What I'm looking for
I believe in the Kingdom Come
When all the colors will bleed into one
But yes I'm still running
You broke the bonds
You loosened the chains
You carried the cross
And my shame
And my shame
You know I believe it
But I still haven't found
What I'm looking for
But I still haven't found
What I'm looking for
Nothing eases a family’s pain in times like this, but for those of us a little farther back from grief’s epicenter, I find comfort in a couple of things. First, in Paul I saw a sensitive young man who was searching for what was real and true in life. And then the best news: his search is over and it is he – and all of us – who is found. Consider this, from both of Paul’s spiritual heritages. From the prophet Isaiah, “In the Lord, all the descendants of Israel will be found righteous and will exult (Isaiah 45:25).” And from the New Testament, we know of the Good Shepherd who "came to seek and save the lost (Luke 19:10)." Or as we sing in Amazing Grace: “I once was lost, but now am found.” That’s great news for all of us and I hope words of comfort to hearts that are breaking.
Give your kids an extra big hug tonight. Say an extra prayer. And know that the end of all our climbing, running, crawling, scaling, kissing, healing, speaking, holding, and believing is in our finding by the Lord. And for every single moment, from the Garden until right this very instant, the Lord has gone through everything imaginable to find you, “only to be with you.”
Friday, February 15, 2008
Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious
Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious
by Richard M Sherman and Robert B Sherman
Um diddle diddle diddle um diddle ay!
Um diddle diddle diddle um diddle ay!
Welcome again to Fun-Time Friday! What’s in a word? Well, all through the Scriptures, we witness the extraordinary power of words: from the first word of creation (Light!), through the tetragrammaton representing the ineffable name of God (translated Yahweh or Jehovah and appearing in English bibles as the all-capital “LORD”), and of course, Jesus – the Word made flesh. In James’ epistle, we learn that the human tongue is a small fire that can set a whole forest ablaze (3:5). “With it we bless the Lord and Father, and with it we curse those who are made in the likeness of God (3:9).” Words are powerful things, and we would do well to guard our speech.
Where is your Achilles Heel, linguistically speaking (sorry for the mixed metaphor)? Mine’s when I get behind the wheel of a car. I can usually think good thoughts about my fellow men and women, but something happens once the ignition key turns. I get impatient, intolerant, insufferable. Spongebob Squarepants uses the word “tartarsauce” when other, more sinister words come to mind. I needed a substitute word, too, so I came up with “picklebutt”. I have no idea where it came from, but it makes a great epithet. Now, I know that the Lord would probably say that I’m still in danger of that virtual murder and adultery business of Matthew 5, but at least this word keeps the interior of the Excursion G-rated while I continue to work on the interior of my heart.
And speaking of G-rated, today’s song comes from one of my all-time favorite films (and now, stage plays), Mary Poppins. Walt Disney wanted to make a musical out of his daughters’ favorite stories, P L Travers’ Mary Poppins series. He enlisted the help of two brothers, Richard and Robert Sherman, to write the score. The brothers had already written some hits for Mouseketeer Annette Funicello, The Parent Trap and Let’s Together (Yeah, yeah, yeah), as well as You’re Sixteen (You’re Beautiful and You’re Mine). They had also helped Walt come up with a theme song and theme concept for The Enchanted Tiki Room at Disneyland.
The Sherman Brothers again assisted Walt Disney with the concept of Mary Poppins. The original plan was to follow the Travers stories, with Mary flying in and out on the East wind, visiting various children in London. It was the Shermans who suggested that the story line should have the central Banks family around which the various adventures revolve.
In the 1964 film, Mary, Bert, Jane and Michael pop through a chalk painting for a Jolly Holiday. After Mary wins a horse race (on a runaway carousel pony), she sings about the perfect word to describe her pleasure:
Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious!
Even though the sound of it is something quite atrocious
If you say it loud enough you'll always sound precocious
Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious!
Mary is accompanied by a “Pearlie Band” and one of its members recounts his own story about the transformative power of the word:
Because I was afraid to speak when I was just a lad
My father gave me nose a tweak and told me I was bad
But then one day I learned a word that saved me aching nose
The biggest word I ever heard and this is how it goes:
Oh, supercalifragilisticexpialidocious!
The year 1964 was a transformative one for the Sherman Brothers. They took home Oscars for Best Score and for Best Song (for another new coined word of theirs, Chim-Chim-Cheree), as well as a Grammy for the score of Mary Poppins. Walt Disney also enlisted their help to fix a ride he was preparing for the New York World’s Fair. The idea was to have audioanimatronic (what is it with the Disney folks and these new words?) children promoting peace and brotherhood, singing their national anthems as guests rode through in little boats. The problem was; the whole audio experience was a nightmare. The Sherman Brothers came up with the idea that It’s a Small World, after all, they penned the song, and provided a seamless, cohesive expression of peace and unity in a simple, children’s song. The ride moved to Disneyland after the World’s Fair and now resides at every Disney theme park. Wikipedia says that It’s a Small World has become the most translated and performed song on earth. Now, I know that it’s popular to disparage the song, but I can tell you that our little boat was stuck in the ride for 20 minutes once and I survived without any residual damage. Without any residual damage.
When Disney brought Mary Poppins to the stage (first to London’s West End and then to Broadway), they moved the venue of the song back to the book’s original location of Mrs Corry’s Word Shoppe. Mrs Corry is an exotic woman who concocts and sells words, much like a perfumer would mix scents (note to Pat and Vanna: buying a vowel is so last year – this lady trades in whole words). Mary introduces Jane and Michael to the world’s longest word, and a huge musical number ensues. In the film version, after the singers and band have exhausted every aspect of the word, Mary tells Bert:
Mary Poppins: You know, you can say it backwards, which is "dociousaliexpiisticfragicalirupes" – but that's going a bit too far, don't you think?
Bert: Indubitably!
Even as child, I knew that they weren’t truly saying it backwards, but were making it easier, rhythmically, to fit in the song. In the new London and Broadway stage versions, though, they do the complete inversion. Wrap this one around your tongue a few times:
Suoicodilaipxecitsiligarfilacrepus
And then, in the final verse, the Sherman Brothers echo St James’ warnings:
So when the cat has got your tongue there's no need for dismay
Just summon up this word and then you've got a lot to say
But better use it carefully or it may change your life
One night I said it to me girl
And now me girl's my wife!
There’s great power in words. There can also be great joy! Sing it out!
Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious!
Even though the sound of it is something quite atrocious
If you say it loud enough you'll always sound precocious
Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious!
by Richard M Sherman and Robert B Sherman
Um diddle diddle diddle um diddle ay!
Um diddle diddle diddle um diddle ay!
Welcome again to Fun-Time Friday! What’s in a word? Well, all through the Scriptures, we witness the extraordinary power of words: from the first word of creation (Light!), through the tetragrammaton representing the ineffable name of God (translated Yahweh or Jehovah and appearing in English bibles as the all-capital “LORD”), and of course, Jesus – the Word made flesh. In James’ epistle, we learn that the human tongue is a small fire that can set a whole forest ablaze (3:5). “With it we bless the Lord and Father, and with it we curse those who are made in the likeness of God (3:9).” Words are powerful things, and we would do well to guard our speech.
Where is your Achilles Heel, linguistically speaking (sorry for the mixed metaphor)? Mine’s when I get behind the wheel of a car. I can usually think good thoughts about my fellow men and women, but something happens once the ignition key turns. I get impatient, intolerant, insufferable. Spongebob Squarepants uses the word “tartarsauce” when other, more sinister words come to mind. I needed a substitute word, too, so I came up with “picklebutt”. I have no idea where it came from, but it makes a great epithet. Now, I know that the Lord would probably say that I’m still in danger of that virtual murder and adultery business of Matthew 5, but at least this word keeps the interior of the Excursion G-rated while I continue to work on the interior of my heart.
And speaking of G-rated, today’s song comes from one of my all-time favorite films (and now, stage plays), Mary Poppins. Walt Disney wanted to make a musical out of his daughters’ favorite stories, P L Travers’ Mary Poppins series. He enlisted the help of two brothers, Richard and Robert Sherman, to write the score. The brothers had already written some hits for Mouseketeer Annette Funicello, The Parent Trap and Let’s Together (Yeah, yeah, yeah), as well as You’re Sixteen (You’re Beautiful and You’re Mine). They had also helped Walt come up with a theme song and theme concept for The Enchanted Tiki Room at Disneyland.
The Sherman Brothers again assisted Walt Disney with the concept of Mary Poppins. The original plan was to follow the Travers stories, with Mary flying in and out on the East wind, visiting various children in London. It was the Shermans who suggested that the story line should have the central Banks family around which the various adventures revolve.
In the 1964 film, Mary, Bert, Jane and Michael pop through a chalk painting for a Jolly Holiday. After Mary wins a horse race (on a runaway carousel pony), she sings about the perfect word to describe her pleasure:
Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious!
Even though the sound of it is something quite atrocious
If you say it loud enough you'll always sound precocious
Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious!
Mary is accompanied by a “Pearlie Band” and one of its members recounts his own story about the transformative power of the word:
Because I was afraid to speak when I was just a lad
My father gave me nose a tweak and told me I was bad
But then one day I learned a word that saved me aching nose
The biggest word I ever heard and this is how it goes:
Oh, supercalifragilisticexpialidocious!
The year 1964 was a transformative one for the Sherman Brothers. They took home Oscars for Best Score and for Best Song (for another new coined word of theirs, Chim-Chim-Cheree), as well as a Grammy for the score of Mary Poppins. Walt Disney also enlisted their help to fix a ride he was preparing for the New York World’s Fair. The idea was to have audioanimatronic (what is it with the Disney folks and these new words?) children promoting peace and brotherhood, singing their national anthems as guests rode through in little boats. The problem was; the whole audio experience was a nightmare. The Sherman Brothers came up with the idea that It’s a Small World, after all, they penned the song, and provided a seamless, cohesive expression of peace and unity in a simple, children’s song. The ride moved to Disneyland after the World’s Fair and now resides at every Disney theme park. Wikipedia says that It’s a Small World has become the most translated and performed song on earth. Now, I know that it’s popular to disparage the song, but I can tell you that our little boat was stuck in the ride for 20 minutes once and I survived without any residual damage. Without any residual damage.
When Disney brought Mary Poppins to the stage (first to London’s West End and then to Broadway), they moved the venue of the song back to the book’s original location of Mrs Corry’s Word Shoppe. Mrs Corry is an exotic woman who concocts and sells words, much like a perfumer would mix scents (note to Pat and Vanna: buying a vowel is so last year – this lady trades in whole words). Mary introduces Jane and Michael to the world’s longest word, and a huge musical number ensues. In the film version, after the singers and band have exhausted every aspect of the word, Mary tells Bert:
Mary Poppins: You know, you can say it backwards, which is "dociousaliexpiisticfragicalirupes" – but that's going a bit too far, don't you think?
Bert: Indubitably!
Even as child, I knew that they weren’t truly saying it backwards, but were making it easier, rhythmically, to fit in the song. In the new London and Broadway stage versions, though, they do the complete inversion. Wrap this one around your tongue a few times:
Suoicodilaipxecitsiligarfilacrepus
And then, in the final verse, the Sherman Brothers echo St James’ warnings:
So when the cat has got your tongue there's no need for dismay
Just summon up this word and then you've got a lot to say
But better use it carefully or it may change your life
One night I said it to me girl
And now me girl's my wife!
There’s great power in words. There can also be great joy! Sing it out!
Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious!
Even though the sound of it is something quite atrocious
If you say it loud enough you'll always sound precocious
Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious!
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Silly Love Songs
Silly Love Songs
by Paul McCartney
St Valentine's Day
What?
Happy Valentine’s Day, everyone! It’s a great day to tell all your loved ones just how you feel about them. So often, it takes some cataclysmic event for us to remember to hold our loved ones close, to send a note and give a hug to our wife, husband, daughter, son, mom, dad, or friend. But Valentine’s Day is the perfect opportunity.
Today, we celebrate the musical language of love. Now, to my mind, a true love song, by definition, cannot be “silly”, just as there is no bad gift if it truly comes from the heart. I think St Paul agrees with the concept, as he writes about the ultimate gift of love:
For the message of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God. – I Corinthians 1:18
And in today’s song, Paul McCartney seems to jump right in and sing along with us:
You'd think that people would have had enough of silly love songs.
But I look around me and I see it isn't so.
Some people wanna fill the world with silly love songs.
And what's wrong with that?
I'd like to know,
'cause here I go again
I love you,
I love you,
I love you,
I love you
The key phrase is repeated over and over, as if we’re prone to forget it. Kind of reminds me of God’s patient repetition of His love for us, over and over. We, each one of us, appear to be slow learners.
Mr McCartney was always my favorite Beatle. There’s a phrase that’s started popping up on placards last year in Boston’s Fenway Park – “Manny being Manny” – referring to idiosyncratic left-fielder Manny Ramirez. Each Beatle also had his own quirks, too: mystical George, introspective John, wacky Ringo, and then there was “Paul being Paul” – happy, smiling, almost looking like a bobble-head with his left-handed guitar, a seemingly endless string of melodies tumbling out of his head. He was “the happy Beatle” and moved on to a solo career, then founded Wings, and then went solo again. He also seems to be the longest lived one, giving more weight to Proverbs 17:22, “A merry heart doeth good like a medicine.”
What's wrong with that
I need to know,
'cause here I go again
I love you,
I love you
Love doesn't come in a minute,
sometimes it doesn't come at all
I only know that when I'm in it
It isn't silly, no, it isn't silly, love isn't silly at all.
And then, the “silly” love song gets a little more complex, as Mr McCartney layers in the voices of his wife Linda and other Wings members, into a little contrapuntal episode:
How can I tell you about my loved one?
(I love you)
[I can’t explain the feeling’s plain to me, say can’t you see?]
How can I tell you about my loved one?
(I love you)
[Ah, he gave me more, he gave it all to me, now can’t you see?]
This “silly” love song was used to great effect with numerous other “silly” love songs in the Elephant Love Medley of the 2001 film Moulin Rouge! Young, idealistic writer Christian moves to Paris with his typewriter and immediately falls in with a group of bohemian artists. When Christian first meets them, they are rehearsing a play with an amazing resemblance to a certain musical that begins with a nun singing atop a mountain:
Toulouse-Lautrec [singing]: The hills are made with the euphonious symphonies of descant . . .
Doctor: I don't think a nun would say that about a hill.
The bohemians take Christian to the Moulin Rouge and he is smitten from the first moment he sees, Satine, the star performer. Satine lives in a giant, elephant-shaped structure in the courtyard of the Moulin Rouge (just roll with us on this if you haven’t seen it). Christian pays her a visit. In the new form of a love song he first rapid-fires the titles of songs, then weaves them into something that is not so much a medley but more like a stained glass window where each song is a different shard. See how many you can name:
Christian: Love is a many splendored thing, love lifts us up where we belong, all you need is love.
Satine: Please, don't start that again.
Christian [singing]: All you need is love.
All you need is love.
All you need is love, love.
Satine: Love is just a game.
Christian: I was made for loving you baby, you were made for loving me.
Just one night, give me just one night.
In the name of love, one night in the name of love.
Satine: You crazy fool, I won't give in to you.
Christian: Don't leave me this way, I can't survive, without your sweet love, oh baby, don't leave me this way.
Satine: You'd think that people would have had enough of silly love songs.
Christian: I look around me and I see, it isn't so, oh no.
Satine: Some people want to fill the world with silly love songs.
Christian: Well what's wrong with that, I'd like to know? ‘Cause here I go again!
Love lifts us up where we belong, where the eagles fly, on a mountain high.
Satine: Love makes us act like we are fools; throw our lives away for one happy day.
Christian: We could be heroes, just for one day.
Both: Just for one day. We could be heroes, forever and ever. We could be heroes, forever and ever. We could be heroes . . .
Christian: Because I will always love you.
Satine: I
Both: Can't help loving you
Satine: How wonderful life is
Both: Now you’re in the world
I heard it explained once that, in a musical, the characters sing when mere dialogue isn’t adequate, and they dance when mere singing isn’t adequate. In the Elephant Love Medley it’s as if one song isn’t adequate, so they try to fit as many as they can into the scene.
It reminds me of another great love scene: you might open up the Gospel of John and read chapters 13 through 16. Jesus and the disciples have just had the Last Supper and all hell is about to break loose. There’s so little time left and Jesus, in these chapters, lays it all on the line. It’s a wonderful medley of the Law and the Prophets; of old commandments, new ones and summations; of vines and branches; of abiding and remaining and loving. The words tumble and cascade and engulf us.
In Moulin Rouge, Satine also runs out of time, but Christian shares his story with us in an act of "redeeming the time":
Christian [voiceover and typing]: Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months. And then, one not-so-very special day, I went to my typewriter, I sat down, and I wrote our story. A story about a time, a story about a place, a story about the people. But above all things, a story about love. A love that will live forever. The End.
Christian [voiceover, singing]: The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return.
This Valentine’s Day, hug your loved ones, then open that great big Valentine with your name on it – the Good Book. It, too, above all things is a story about love. A love that will live forever.
And what’s wrong with that?
by Paul McCartney
St Valentine's Day
What?
Happy Valentine’s Day, everyone! It’s a great day to tell all your loved ones just how you feel about them. So often, it takes some cataclysmic event for us to remember to hold our loved ones close, to send a note and give a hug to our wife, husband, daughter, son, mom, dad, or friend. But Valentine’s Day is the perfect opportunity.
Today, we celebrate the musical language of love. Now, to my mind, a true love song, by definition, cannot be “silly”, just as there is no bad gift if it truly comes from the heart. I think St Paul agrees with the concept, as he writes about the ultimate gift of love:
For the message of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God. – I Corinthians 1:18
And in today’s song, Paul McCartney seems to jump right in and sing along with us:
You'd think that people would have had enough of silly love songs.
But I look around me and I see it isn't so.
Some people wanna fill the world with silly love songs.
And what's wrong with that?
I'd like to know,
'cause here I go again
I love you,
I love you,
I love you,
I love you
The key phrase is repeated over and over, as if we’re prone to forget it. Kind of reminds me of God’s patient repetition of His love for us, over and over. We, each one of us, appear to be slow learners.
Mr McCartney was always my favorite Beatle. There’s a phrase that’s started popping up on placards last year in Boston’s Fenway Park – “Manny being Manny” – referring to idiosyncratic left-fielder Manny Ramirez. Each Beatle also had his own quirks, too: mystical George, introspective John, wacky Ringo, and then there was “Paul being Paul” – happy, smiling, almost looking like a bobble-head with his left-handed guitar, a seemingly endless string of melodies tumbling out of his head. He was “the happy Beatle” and moved on to a solo career, then founded Wings, and then went solo again. He also seems to be the longest lived one, giving more weight to Proverbs 17:22, “A merry heart doeth good like a medicine.”
What's wrong with that
I need to know,
'cause here I go again
I love you,
I love you
Love doesn't come in a minute,
sometimes it doesn't come at all
I only know that when I'm in it
It isn't silly, no, it isn't silly, love isn't silly at all.
And then, the “silly” love song gets a little more complex, as Mr McCartney layers in the voices of his wife Linda and other Wings members, into a little contrapuntal episode:
How can I tell you about my loved one?
(I love you)
[I can’t explain the feeling’s plain to me, say can’t you see?]
How can I tell you about my loved one?
(I love you)
[Ah, he gave me more, he gave it all to me, now can’t you see?]
This “silly” love song was used to great effect with numerous other “silly” love songs in the Elephant Love Medley of the 2001 film Moulin Rouge! Young, idealistic writer Christian moves to Paris with his typewriter and immediately falls in with a group of bohemian artists. When Christian first meets them, they are rehearsing a play with an amazing resemblance to a certain musical that begins with a nun singing atop a mountain:
Toulouse-Lautrec [singing]: The hills are made with the euphonious symphonies of descant . . .
Doctor: I don't think a nun would say that about a hill.
The bohemians take Christian to the Moulin Rouge and he is smitten from the first moment he sees, Satine, the star performer. Satine lives in a giant, elephant-shaped structure in the courtyard of the Moulin Rouge (just roll with us on this if you haven’t seen it). Christian pays her a visit. In the new form of a love song he first rapid-fires the titles of songs, then weaves them into something that is not so much a medley but more like a stained glass window where each song is a different shard. See how many you can name:
Christian: Love is a many splendored thing, love lifts us up where we belong, all you need is love.
Satine: Please, don't start that again.
Christian [singing]: All you need is love.
All you need is love.
All you need is love, love.
Satine: Love is just a game.
Christian: I was made for loving you baby, you were made for loving me.
Just one night, give me just one night.
In the name of love, one night in the name of love.
Satine: You crazy fool, I won't give in to you.
Christian: Don't leave me this way, I can't survive, without your sweet love, oh baby, don't leave me this way.
Satine: You'd think that people would have had enough of silly love songs.
Christian: I look around me and I see, it isn't so, oh no.
Satine: Some people want to fill the world with silly love songs.
Christian: Well what's wrong with that, I'd like to know? ‘Cause here I go again!
Love lifts us up where we belong, where the eagles fly, on a mountain high.
Satine: Love makes us act like we are fools; throw our lives away for one happy day.
Christian: We could be heroes, just for one day.
Both: Just for one day. We could be heroes, forever and ever. We could be heroes, forever and ever. We could be heroes . . .
Christian: Because I will always love you.
Satine: I
Both: Can't help loving you
Satine: How wonderful life is
Both: Now you’re in the world
I heard it explained once that, in a musical, the characters sing when mere dialogue isn’t adequate, and they dance when mere singing isn’t adequate. In the Elephant Love Medley it’s as if one song isn’t adequate, so they try to fit as many as they can into the scene.
It reminds me of another great love scene: you might open up the Gospel of John and read chapters 13 through 16. Jesus and the disciples have just had the Last Supper and all hell is about to break loose. There’s so little time left and Jesus, in these chapters, lays it all on the line. It’s a wonderful medley of the Law and the Prophets; of old commandments, new ones and summations; of vines and branches; of abiding and remaining and loving. The words tumble and cascade and engulf us.
In Moulin Rouge, Satine also runs out of time, but Christian shares his story with us in an act of "redeeming the time":
Christian [voiceover and typing]: Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months. And then, one not-so-very special day, I went to my typewriter, I sat down, and I wrote our story. A story about a time, a story about a place, a story about the people. But above all things, a story about love. A love that will live forever. The End.
Christian [voiceover, singing]: The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return.
This Valentine’s Day, hug your loved ones, then open that great big Valentine with your name on it – the Good Book. It, too, above all things is a story about love. A love that will live forever.
And what’s wrong with that?
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