Watching the opening game at Cincinnati just now, as Reds players and coaches took the field, every uniform was, well, uniform. Each and every one sported the number 41 and the name "Nuxhall" on the back. It was fitting tribute for Cincinnati legend Joe Nuxhall.
Mr Nuxhall was a left-handed pitcher for the Reds most of his career. That is, his first career. Immediately upon retirement he began announcing for the Reds, a position he kept until his death last November.
He also holds the record for being the youngest player ever in the majors. On June 10, 1944, 15-year old Joe Nuxhall filled out the war-depleted roster and pitched 2/3 of an inning.
Mr Nuxhall ended every broadcast with, "This is the old lefthander, rounding third and heading for home." Welcome home, Joe.
Monday, March 31, 2008
Rain Delay
It's raining in Tulsa and, coincidentally, also in the Bronx. The Yankees are hosting the Blue Jays at Yankee Stadium. It's the last year for the old stadium. When the rain stops, pitcher Chien-Ming Wang will take the mound, and Joe Girardi will take the helm as the Yankee's new skipper.
I've always liked Joe Girardi and am thrilled he took Joe Torre's place (that is, if someone had to take his place at all). Girardi is like an old-style player: he always looked like he stepped out of the 1940s (or maybe an Iowa cornfield) when he was behind the plate catching. To paraphrase Walt Whitman, "I see great things in Girardi. He will rally the team and repair their losses."
And with Torre in LA, I have a new reason to root for the Dodgers!
I've always liked Joe Girardi and am thrilled he took Joe Torre's place (that is, if someone had to take his place at all). Girardi is like an old-style player: he always looked like he stepped out of the 1940s (or maybe an Iowa cornfield) when he was behind the plate catching. To paraphrase Walt Whitman, "I see great things in Girardi. He will rally the team and repair their losses."
And with Torre in LA, I have a new reason to root for the Dodgers!
Monday Morning Openers
Good morning, everyone! It's Opening Day. "There's new grass on the field." The Nationals have a new stadium, and all's right with the world. More baseball talk later today, but I wanted to post again that great question that a gentleman in our congregation carries around in his wallet:
What are you daring to attempt that could not be accomplished without God’s strength and intervention?
Dream big. Pray hard.
What are you daring to attempt that could not be accomplished without God’s strength and intervention?
Dream big. Pray hard.
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Is it bad luck to sit behind someone in a Chinese Restaurant?
Eating at the Pei Wei last night, I noticed a woman throwing something over her shoulder. I assumed she had spilled the salt, but on closer inspection, I realized that there weren't any salt shakers on the tables. So I wondered: if people in Asian countries spill the soy sauce, do they throw it over their shoulders? And doesn't that get kind of messy?
On a related topic, in those tribes where they believe taking your picture steals your soul, does breaking a mirror bring seven years of good luck?
What other superstitions are either superannuated or in need of a makeover?
On a related topic, in those tribes where they believe taking your picture steals your soul, does breaking a mirror bring seven years of good luck?
What other superstitions are either superannuated or in need of a makeover?
Sunday, March 23, 2008
Centerfield
Centerfield
by John Fogerty
Easter Sunday
The Lord is risen, indeed! A glorious Easter Day to you and yours! Today, the victory is won. Let's celebrate it (and wrap up our Lenten Blog journey) with John Fogerty’s anthem from his multi-platinum comeback album:
Well, beat the drum and hold the phone - the sun came out today!
We’re born again, there’s new grass on the field.
A-roundin’ third, and headed for home, it’s a brown-eyed handsome man;
Anyone can understand the way I feel.
We had a wonderful day in church today. The music in all the services was top-notch. My dear friend Jim preached a powerful and heartfelt sermon from John 20: Mary Magdalene has returned to the tomb to find it empty. Her grief is so strong that she isn’t even afraid of the two angels sitting in the tomb. In fact, she thinks the resurrected Jesus is the gardener at first – after all, there is nothing in her frame of reference to make her think that dead people get up.
I can somewhat relate to Mary’s overlooking of Jesus. A few years ago, my daughter and I were walking on the streets of London. We passed someone in the crowd and I remarked to Lindsay, “Wow, that fellow looked just like my cousin.” Of course, I didn’t think there was any way it could be him – he lived in Texas and we were in London, after all. Come to find out when we got home, it was my cousin, and he had said essentially the same thing to his business associate as they walked down that London street, “Wow, that fellow looked just like my cousin.”
But, when Jesus calls “Mary” by name, she knows it is the Lord. She is overcome with joy. And here’s where Jim said something that really hit home. He said that Mary is the first one that Jesus “commissions” after His resurrection. He tells her to “go to my brothers and say to them, ‘I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.’ (John 20:17)” And Mary gets in the game:
Oh, put me in, coach - I’m ready to play today;
Put me in, coach - I’m ready to play today;
Look at me, I can be centerfield.
Each of the eleven disciples will also get into the game. After spending the last few days hiding in fear, completely destroyed after the death of their friend, each one will meet the Risen Lord, and everything will change:
Well, I spent some time in the Mudville Nine, watchin’ it from the bench;
You know I took some lumps when the Mighty Casey struck out.
So say hey, Willie, tell Ty Cobb and Joe DiMaggio;
Don’t say "it ain’t so", you know the time is now.
Peter, especially, will receive some invaluable time with his Coach and friend. At the end of St John’s Gospel, when Jesus asks three times if Peter loves him (mirroring the three times Peter denied Jesus), Jesus is in effect saying to him, “I need you, Peter. Come on, my friend, get back in the game.
Oh, put me in, coach - I’m ready to play today;
Put me in, coach - I’m ready to play today;
Look at me, I can be centerfield.
Yeah! I got it, I got it!
Each and every one of us has been gifted with unique talents and abilities – ways that we can serve the Master. And here’s the really amazing thing about the Lord’s farm-system: sometimes He doesn’t even work through the Minor Leagues, from Double-A to Triple-A – He might just lift us out of the sandlot and say, you’re in “The Show” now, my friend!
Got a beat-up glove, a homemade bat, and brand-new pair of shoes;
You know I think it’s time to give this game a ride.
Just to hit the ball and touch ’em all - a moment in the sun;
(Pop) it’s gone and you can tell that one goodbye!
So my prayer for you and for me is that we answer the Lord’s call and get in the game. Be there for Him for the whole season. Suit up. Run it out. Make the diving catch. Swing for the fences! There’s nothing more exciting than this adventure!
Oh, put me in, coach - I’m ready to play today;
Put me in, coach - I’m ready to play today;
Look at me, I can be centerfield.
by John Fogerty
Easter Sunday
The Lord is risen, indeed! A glorious Easter Day to you and yours! Today, the victory is won. Let's celebrate it (and wrap up our Lenten Blog journey) with John Fogerty’s anthem from his multi-platinum comeback album:
Well, beat the drum and hold the phone - the sun came out today!
We’re born again, there’s new grass on the field.
A-roundin’ third, and headed for home, it’s a brown-eyed handsome man;
Anyone can understand the way I feel.
We had a wonderful day in church today. The music in all the services was top-notch. My dear friend Jim preached a powerful and heartfelt sermon from John 20: Mary Magdalene has returned to the tomb to find it empty. Her grief is so strong that she isn’t even afraid of the two angels sitting in the tomb. In fact, she thinks the resurrected Jesus is the gardener at first – after all, there is nothing in her frame of reference to make her think that dead people get up.
I can somewhat relate to Mary’s overlooking of Jesus. A few years ago, my daughter and I were walking on the streets of London. We passed someone in the crowd and I remarked to Lindsay, “Wow, that fellow looked just like my cousin.” Of course, I didn’t think there was any way it could be him – he lived in Texas and we were in London, after all. Come to find out when we got home, it was my cousin, and he had said essentially the same thing to his business associate as they walked down that London street, “Wow, that fellow looked just like my cousin.”
But, when Jesus calls “Mary” by name, she knows it is the Lord. She is overcome with joy. And here’s where Jim said something that really hit home. He said that Mary is the first one that Jesus “commissions” after His resurrection. He tells her to “go to my brothers and say to them, ‘I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.’ (John 20:17)” And Mary gets in the game:
Oh, put me in, coach - I’m ready to play today;
Put me in, coach - I’m ready to play today;
Look at me, I can be centerfield.
Each of the eleven disciples will also get into the game. After spending the last few days hiding in fear, completely destroyed after the death of their friend, each one will meet the Risen Lord, and everything will change:
Well, I spent some time in the Mudville Nine, watchin’ it from the bench;
You know I took some lumps when the Mighty Casey struck out.
So say hey, Willie, tell Ty Cobb and Joe DiMaggio;
Don’t say "it ain’t so", you know the time is now.
Peter, especially, will receive some invaluable time with his Coach and friend. At the end of St John’s Gospel, when Jesus asks three times if Peter loves him (mirroring the three times Peter denied Jesus), Jesus is in effect saying to him, “I need you, Peter. Come on, my friend, get back in the game.
Oh, put me in, coach - I’m ready to play today;
Put me in, coach - I’m ready to play today;
Look at me, I can be centerfield.
Yeah! I got it, I got it!
Each and every one of us has been gifted with unique talents and abilities – ways that we can serve the Master. And here’s the really amazing thing about the Lord’s farm-system: sometimes He doesn’t even work through the Minor Leagues, from Double-A to Triple-A – He might just lift us out of the sandlot and say, you’re in “The Show” now, my friend!
Got a beat-up glove, a homemade bat, and brand-new pair of shoes;
You know I think it’s time to give this game a ride.
Just to hit the ball and touch ’em all - a moment in the sun;
(Pop) it’s gone and you can tell that one goodbye!
So my prayer for you and for me is that we answer the Lord’s call and get in the game. Be there for Him for the whole season. Suit up. Run it out. Make the diving catch. Swing for the fences! There’s nothing more exciting than this adventure!
Oh, put me in, coach - I’m ready to play today;
Put me in, coach - I’m ready to play today;
Look at me, I can be centerfield.
Saturday, March 22, 2008
Carry On
Carry On
by David Crosby, Stephen Stills, Graham Nash and Neil Young
This morning I woke up and I knew
You were really gone
A new day, a new way, I knew
I should see it along
Go your way, I'll go mine
Carry on
Holy Week is a roller-coaster ride of emotions. For those of us who know “how the story ends”, I believe that we feel complicity, remorse, guilt, and contrition, and then there is a very deep and profound sense of thanks – thanks to the Lord for loving us, for dying for us, for saving us. But the one thing we don’t have to worry about is whether or not Jesus will get up. We have the benefit of history and of the Truth written in our hearts. I think about all Jesus’ disciples and friends waking up on that Saturday morning. The horrors of Good Friday are past and their friend is dead. Those of us who have lost a loved one know something of that feeling – waking up that first morning and feeling that part of us is dead, too.
The sky is clearing and the night
Has gone out
The sun, he come, the world
is all full of light
Rejoice, rejoice, we have no choice
But to carry on
The Israelites were no strangers to suffering and waiting. After the 40 years of wandering, after the Babylonian captivity, they were accustomed to waiting. They still think we’re waiting for the promised Messiah, I guess, now that I think about it. The prophet Zephaniah was quite a bearer of “doom and gloom”. But, at the end of his book, there are some amazing and wonderfully optimistic verses, pointing to the future:
On that day they will say to Jerusalem,
"Do not fear, Zion;
do not let your hands hang limp.
The LORD your God is with you,
the Mighty Warrior who saves.
He will take great delight in you;
in his love he will no longer rebuke you,
but will rejoice over you with singing."
– Zephaniah 3:16-17
I guess there are two ways to look at that “do not let your hands hang limp” phrase. On the one hand, experts say that when people are depressed, they don’t swing their arms. Now, I will admit that, even before I had ever heard that, I had noticed that people in New York City don’t seem to swing their arms as much as people back home – I didn’t know why, but I had just noticed that. Then one day, some friends and I at work were discussing whether the arm swinging part was a cause or an effect. We wondered if people could intentionally swing their arms and thereby elevate their moods. I mentioned that maybe all those older folks you see “power walking” at the mall were actually improving their disposition. A couple of days later, one of my co-workers came to work and related a strange dream she had had. She said, “I dreamed I was severely depressed and was walking around, not swinging my arms. In my dream I decided to just jump off the Golden Gate Bridge. But as I did and the air rushed around me, the turbulence started to make my arms flap about . . . and I started to feel great! But I had already jumped off the top of the bridge. And I remember the last thing, before I woke up, was thinking, 'Damn!'”
And another way to think about it is to just “keep on keeping on,” as I've heard people say. "For consider Him who has endured such hostility by sinners against Himself, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart (Hebrews 12:3)." In other words, carry on.
The fortunes of fables are able
To sing the song
Now witness the quickness with which
We get along
To sing the blues you've got to live the tunes
Carry on
For those of you who have been along with me on this Lenten adventure, “living the tunes”, thank you! Your readership and comments are greatly appreciated, and humbling. There will be an Easter post, and then week or so hiatus before the blog comes back in a somewhat different form. But back to today’s thoughts . . .
In the 2000 film Cast Away, Tom Hanks’ character is marooned on a South Pacific island for 1,500 days. At the end of the film, he tells Helen Hunt how he got through the times when he didn’t know how long it would be before he was rescued, if ever: “And I know what I have to do now. I gotta keep breathing. Because tomorrow the sun will rise. Who knows what the tide could bring?”
Even those of us on this side of Easter know that it can be hard sometimes, just to keep putting one foot in front of the other. I think, for those disciples who weren’t sure at the time how the story would end, this time from Good Friday to Easter morning must have been dark times, indeed. And then, suddenly . . .
At that time I will gather you;
at that time I will bring you home.
I will give you honor and praise
among all the peoples of the earth
when I restore your fortunes
before your very eyes,"
says the LORD.
– Zephaniah 3:20
“Before our very eyes.” And so we wait. To us, it’s a brief moment. To the disciples, it might have seemed an eternity. But something amazing awaits us tomorrow.
Carry on
Love is coming
Love is coming to us all . . .
by David Crosby, Stephen Stills, Graham Nash and Neil Young
This morning I woke up and I knew
You were really gone
A new day, a new way, I knew
I should see it along
Go your way, I'll go mine
Carry on
Holy Week is a roller-coaster ride of emotions. For those of us who know “how the story ends”, I believe that we feel complicity, remorse, guilt, and contrition, and then there is a very deep and profound sense of thanks – thanks to the Lord for loving us, for dying for us, for saving us. But the one thing we don’t have to worry about is whether or not Jesus will get up. We have the benefit of history and of the Truth written in our hearts. I think about all Jesus’ disciples and friends waking up on that Saturday morning. The horrors of Good Friday are past and their friend is dead. Those of us who have lost a loved one know something of that feeling – waking up that first morning and feeling that part of us is dead, too.
The sky is clearing and the night
Has gone out
The sun, he come, the world
is all full of light
Rejoice, rejoice, we have no choice
But to carry on
The Israelites were no strangers to suffering and waiting. After the 40 years of wandering, after the Babylonian captivity, they were accustomed to waiting. They still think we’re waiting for the promised Messiah, I guess, now that I think about it. The prophet Zephaniah was quite a bearer of “doom and gloom”. But, at the end of his book, there are some amazing and wonderfully optimistic verses, pointing to the future:
On that day they will say to Jerusalem,
"Do not fear, Zion;
do not let your hands hang limp.
The LORD your God is with you,
the Mighty Warrior who saves.
He will take great delight in you;
in his love he will no longer rebuke you,
but will rejoice over you with singing."
– Zephaniah 3:16-17
I guess there are two ways to look at that “do not let your hands hang limp” phrase. On the one hand, experts say that when people are depressed, they don’t swing their arms. Now, I will admit that, even before I had ever heard that, I had noticed that people in New York City don’t seem to swing their arms as much as people back home – I didn’t know why, but I had just noticed that. Then one day, some friends and I at work were discussing whether the arm swinging part was a cause or an effect. We wondered if people could intentionally swing their arms and thereby elevate their moods. I mentioned that maybe all those older folks you see “power walking” at the mall were actually improving their disposition. A couple of days later, one of my co-workers came to work and related a strange dream she had had. She said, “I dreamed I was severely depressed and was walking around, not swinging my arms. In my dream I decided to just jump off the Golden Gate Bridge. But as I did and the air rushed around me, the turbulence started to make my arms flap about . . . and I started to feel great! But I had already jumped off the top of the bridge. And I remember the last thing, before I woke up, was thinking, 'Damn!'”
And another way to think about it is to just “keep on keeping on,” as I've heard people say. "For consider Him who has endured such hostility by sinners against Himself, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart (Hebrews 12:3)." In other words, carry on.
The fortunes of fables are able
To sing the song
Now witness the quickness with which
We get along
To sing the blues you've got to live the tunes
Carry on
For those of you who have been along with me on this Lenten adventure, “living the tunes”, thank you! Your readership and comments are greatly appreciated, and humbling. There will be an Easter post, and then week or so hiatus before the blog comes back in a somewhat different form. But back to today’s thoughts . . .
In the 2000 film Cast Away, Tom Hanks’ character is marooned on a South Pacific island for 1,500 days. At the end of the film, he tells Helen Hunt how he got through the times when he didn’t know how long it would be before he was rescued, if ever: “And I know what I have to do now. I gotta keep breathing. Because tomorrow the sun will rise. Who knows what the tide could bring?”
Even those of us on this side of Easter know that it can be hard sometimes, just to keep putting one foot in front of the other. I think, for those disciples who weren’t sure at the time how the story would end, this time from Good Friday to Easter morning must have been dark times, indeed. And then, suddenly . . .
At that time I will gather you;
at that time I will bring you home.
I will give you honor and praise
among all the peoples of the earth
when I restore your fortunes
before your very eyes,"
says the LORD.
– Zephaniah 3:20
“Before our very eyes.” And so we wait. To us, it’s a brief moment. To the disciples, it might have seemed an eternity. But something amazing awaits us tomorrow.
Carry on
Love is coming
Love is coming to us all . . .
Friday, March 21, 2008
Lawyers, Guns and Money
Lawyers, Guns and Money
by Warren Zevon
Good Friday
Once again, it’s Fun-Time Friday. That may sound absurd, given the circumstances, but it’s no more implausible than calling today “Good” Friday, is it? Of course, through God’s redemptive power, He is able to take this darkest of days and bend it to the good, turning this Easter weekend into the most important and hopeful time for the whole human race.
Today’s song is from that “excitable boy” Warren Zevon, who died in 2003 after a battle with lung cancer. Shortly before his death, Mr Zevon filled in for an extended period for Paul Shaefer as the bandleader on Late Night with David Letterman. The bulk of his earlier career was spent as a composer of catchy, sometimes profound, and always quirky songs, such as Werewolves of London and – perhaps apropos of today, as well – Accidentally, Like a Martyr.
Lawyers, Guns and Money is a story of deals gone south and best laid plans gone awry . It begins with a case of mistaken identity and its serious consequences:
I went home with the waitress
The way I always do
How was I to know
She was with the Russians, too?
Sound familiar? Let’s pick up the Gospel story early this Good Friday morning:
While Peter was below in the courtyard, one of the servant girls of the high priest came by. When she saw Peter warming himself, she looked closely at him. “You also were with that Nazarene, Jesus,” she said. But he denied it. “I don't know or understand what you're talking about,” he said, and went out into the entryway. When the servant girl saw him there, she said again to those standing around, “This fellow is one of them.” Again he denied it. After a little while, those standing near said to Peter, “Surely you are one of them, for you are a Galilean.” He began to call down curses, and he swore to them, “I don't know this man you're talking about.” Immediately the rooster crowed the second time. Then Peter remembered the word Jesus had spoken to him: “Before the rooster crows twice you will disown me three times.” And he broke down and wept.
– Mark 14:66-72
Meanwhile, Jesus is being beaten and mocked by the Roman soldiers. They have thrust a crown of thorns on His head, put a “royal” robe on Him and given Him a reed sceptre, while throwing dice to see who will get to keep His garments:
I was gambling in Havana
I took a little risk
Send lawyers, guns and money
Dad, get me out of this
Jesus had already called on his own Dad, last night in the garden, when he said, “Abba, Father, everything is possible for you. Take this cup from me. Yet not what I will, but what you will (Mark 14:36).” But from that moment forward, Jesus set His face toward Golgotha. He will endure unbelievably brutal beatings and blows, so much so that the soldiers will have to conscript the help of someone on the street to help Jesus carry the cross to Calvary: “A certain man from Cyrene, Simon, the father of Alexander and Rufus, was passing by on his way in from the country, and they forced him to carry the cross (Mark 15:21).”
I'm the innocent bystander
Somehow I got stuck
Between the rock
and a hard place
And I'm down on my luck
Yes, I'm down on my luck
Well, I'm down on my luck
We have already seen Peter, the “Rock”, crumbling under pressure and denying his Lord. The rest of the disciples also scattered, fearing for their lives:
I'm hiding in Honduras
I'm a desperate man
Send lawyers, guns and money . . .
But Jesus stood before the tribunals and rulers, engaging them with the most important questions they would ever ask:
Very early in the morning, the chief priests, with the elders, the teachers of the law and the whole Sanhedrin, reached a decision. They bound Jesus, led him away and handed him over to Pilate. “Are you the king of the Jews?” asked Pilate. “You have said so,” Jesus replied. The chief priests accused him of many things. So again Pilate asked him, “Aren't you going to answer? See how many things they are accusing you of.” But Jesus still made no reply, and Pilate was amazed.
– Mark 15:1-5
[Pilate] went back inside the palace. “Where do you come from?” he asked Jesus, but Jesus gave him no answer. “Do you refuse to speak to me?” Pilate said. “Don't you realize I have power either to free you or to crucify you?” Jesus answered, “You would have no power over me if it were not given to you from above. Therefore the one who handed me over to you is guilty of a greater sin.” From then on, Pilate tried to set Jesus free . . .
– John 19:9-12
Lawyers, guns and money . . .
Pilate and the Chief Priests did their own lawyerly battling, with this bit of wordsmithing:
Pilate had a notice prepared and fastened to the cross. It read: JESUS OF NAZARETH, THE KING OF THE JEWS. Many of the Jews read this sign, for the place where Jesus was crucified was near the city, and the sign was written in Aramaic, Latin and Greek. The chief priests of the Jews protested to Pilate, "Do not write 'The King of the Jews,' but that this man claimed to be king of the Jews." Pilate answered, "What I have written, I have written."
– John 19:19-21
And the “big guns” of the day, the Roman soldiers, had already thrown their weight around. But after they had scourged, mocked and beaten Jesus, at least some of them at last got it right:
And when Jesus had cried out again in a loud voice, he gave up his spirit. At that moment the curtain of the temple was torn in two from top to bottom. The earth shook, the rocks split and the tombs broke open. The bodies of many holy people who had died were raised to life. They came out of the tombs after Jesus' resurrection and went into the holy city and appeared to many people. When the centurion and those with him who were guarding Jesus saw the earthquake and all that had happened, they were terrified, and exclaimed, "Surely he was the Son of God!"
– Matthew 27:50-54
And then there was the money. Perhaps Jesus’ rhetorical question from earlier in His ministry, “What good is it for you to gain the whole world, yet forfeit your soul? (Mark 8:36)” was ringing in Judas’ ears that morning of Good Friday:
When Judas, who had betrayed him, saw that Jesus was condemned, he was seized with remorse and returned the thirty pieces of silver to the chief priests and the elders. "I have sinned," he said, "for I have betrayed innocent blood." "What is that to us?" they replied. "That's your responsibility." So Judas threw the money into the temple and left. Then he went away and hanged himself.
– Matthew 27:3-5
Jesus calls on His “Abba” – his Dad – one last time, in His last words from the Cross: “Jesus called out with a loud voice, ‘Father, into your hands I commit my spirit.’ When he had said this, he breathed his last (Luke 23:46).” I heard it explained once that that phrase was an ancient Hebrew children’s bedtime prayer, much as we might today say, “Now I lay me down to sleep.” Here is the Lamb of God, slain for the sins of the whole world, completely trusting His heavenly Father for what comes next.
Like the old adage, “You can’t judge a book by its cover,” we often aren’t able to grasp the whole meaning of a situation by just taking it at face value. Mr Zevon seems to echo this thought in another of his songs:
I saw a werewolf drinking a Piña Colada at Trader Vic’s
and his hair was "perfect".
Remembering the details of this day, we may marvel at how anyone could call it “Good” Friday. But in just a couple of sunrises, by that glorious Easter morning, we’ll be able to look back and see just how “good” – if not “perfect” – today really was.
by Warren Zevon
Good Friday
Once again, it’s Fun-Time Friday. That may sound absurd, given the circumstances, but it’s no more implausible than calling today “Good” Friday, is it? Of course, through God’s redemptive power, He is able to take this darkest of days and bend it to the good, turning this Easter weekend into the most important and hopeful time for the whole human race.
Today’s song is from that “excitable boy” Warren Zevon, who died in 2003 after a battle with lung cancer. Shortly before his death, Mr Zevon filled in for an extended period for Paul Shaefer as the bandleader on Late Night with David Letterman. The bulk of his earlier career was spent as a composer of catchy, sometimes profound, and always quirky songs, such as Werewolves of London and – perhaps apropos of today, as well – Accidentally, Like a Martyr.
Lawyers, Guns and Money is a story of deals gone south and best laid plans gone awry . It begins with a case of mistaken identity and its serious consequences:
I went home with the waitress
The way I always do
How was I to know
She was with the Russians, too?
Sound familiar? Let’s pick up the Gospel story early this Good Friday morning:
While Peter was below in the courtyard, one of the servant girls of the high priest came by. When she saw Peter warming himself, she looked closely at him. “You also were with that Nazarene, Jesus,” she said. But he denied it. “I don't know or understand what you're talking about,” he said, and went out into the entryway. When the servant girl saw him there, she said again to those standing around, “This fellow is one of them.” Again he denied it. After a little while, those standing near said to Peter, “Surely you are one of them, for you are a Galilean.” He began to call down curses, and he swore to them, “I don't know this man you're talking about.” Immediately the rooster crowed the second time. Then Peter remembered the word Jesus had spoken to him: “Before the rooster crows twice you will disown me three times.” And he broke down and wept.
– Mark 14:66-72
Meanwhile, Jesus is being beaten and mocked by the Roman soldiers. They have thrust a crown of thorns on His head, put a “royal” robe on Him and given Him a reed sceptre, while throwing dice to see who will get to keep His garments:
I was gambling in Havana
I took a little risk
Send lawyers, guns and money
Dad, get me out of this
Jesus had already called on his own Dad, last night in the garden, when he said, “Abba, Father, everything is possible for you. Take this cup from me. Yet not what I will, but what you will (Mark 14:36).” But from that moment forward, Jesus set His face toward Golgotha. He will endure unbelievably brutal beatings and blows, so much so that the soldiers will have to conscript the help of someone on the street to help Jesus carry the cross to Calvary: “A certain man from Cyrene, Simon, the father of Alexander and Rufus, was passing by on his way in from the country, and they forced him to carry the cross (Mark 15:21).”
I'm the innocent bystander
Somehow I got stuck
Between the rock
and a hard place
And I'm down on my luck
Yes, I'm down on my luck
Well, I'm down on my luck
We have already seen Peter, the “Rock”, crumbling under pressure and denying his Lord. The rest of the disciples also scattered, fearing for their lives:
I'm hiding in Honduras
I'm a desperate man
Send lawyers, guns and money . . .
But Jesus stood before the tribunals and rulers, engaging them with the most important questions they would ever ask:
Very early in the morning, the chief priests, with the elders, the teachers of the law and the whole Sanhedrin, reached a decision. They bound Jesus, led him away and handed him over to Pilate. “Are you the king of the Jews?” asked Pilate. “You have said so,” Jesus replied. The chief priests accused him of many things. So again Pilate asked him, “Aren't you going to answer? See how many things they are accusing you of.” But Jesus still made no reply, and Pilate was amazed.
– Mark 15:1-5
[Pilate] went back inside the palace. “Where do you come from?” he asked Jesus, but Jesus gave him no answer. “Do you refuse to speak to me?” Pilate said. “Don't you realize I have power either to free you or to crucify you?” Jesus answered, “You would have no power over me if it were not given to you from above. Therefore the one who handed me over to you is guilty of a greater sin.” From then on, Pilate tried to set Jesus free . . .
– John 19:9-12
Lawyers, guns and money . . .
Pilate and the Chief Priests did their own lawyerly battling, with this bit of wordsmithing:
Pilate had a notice prepared and fastened to the cross. It read: JESUS OF NAZARETH, THE KING OF THE JEWS. Many of the Jews read this sign, for the place where Jesus was crucified was near the city, and the sign was written in Aramaic, Latin and Greek. The chief priests of the Jews protested to Pilate, "Do not write 'The King of the Jews,' but that this man claimed to be king of the Jews." Pilate answered, "What I have written, I have written."
– John 19:19-21
And the “big guns” of the day, the Roman soldiers, had already thrown their weight around. But after they had scourged, mocked and beaten Jesus, at least some of them at last got it right:
And when Jesus had cried out again in a loud voice, he gave up his spirit. At that moment the curtain of the temple was torn in two from top to bottom. The earth shook, the rocks split and the tombs broke open. The bodies of many holy people who had died were raised to life. They came out of the tombs after Jesus' resurrection and went into the holy city and appeared to many people. When the centurion and those with him who were guarding Jesus saw the earthquake and all that had happened, they were terrified, and exclaimed, "Surely he was the Son of God!"
– Matthew 27:50-54
And then there was the money. Perhaps Jesus’ rhetorical question from earlier in His ministry, “What good is it for you to gain the whole world, yet forfeit your soul? (Mark 8:36)” was ringing in Judas’ ears that morning of Good Friday:
When Judas, who had betrayed him, saw that Jesus was condemned, he was seized with remorse and returned the thirty pieces of silver to the chief priests and the elders. "I have sinned," he said, "for I have betrayed innocent blood." "What is that to us?" they replied. "That's your responsibility." So Judas threw the money into the temple and left. Then he went away and hanged himself.
– Matthew 27:3-5
Jesus calls on His “Abba” – his Dad – one last time, in His last words from the Cross: “Jesus called out with a loud voice, ‘Father, into your hands I commit my spirit.’ When he had said this, he breathed his last (Luke 23:46).” I heard it explained once that that phrase was an ancient Hebrew children’s bedtime prayer, much as we might today say, “Now I lay me down to sleep.” Here is the Lamb of God, slain for the sins of the whole world, completely trusting His heavenly Father for what comes next.
Like the old adage, “You can’t judge a book by its cover,” we often aren’t able to grasp the whole meaning of a situation by just taking it at face value. Mr Zevon seems to echo this thought in another of his songs:
I saw a werewolf drinking a Piña Colada at Trader Vic’s
and his hair was "perfect".
Remembering the details of this day, we may marvel at how anyone could call it “Good” Friday. But in just a couple of sunrises, by that glorious Easter morning, we’ll be able to look back and see just how “good” – if not “perfect” – today really was.
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Our Love is Here to Stay
Our Love is Here to Stay
lyrics by Ira Gershwin
music by George Gershwin
Maundy Thursday
Now before the festival of the Passover, Jesus knew that his hour had come to depart from this world and go to the Father. Having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end.
– John 13:1
And so, on this first day of spring 2008, we find ourselves at the precipice known as Maundy Thursday. The word “Maundy” has the same root as our word “mandate”, and it refers to what Jesus tells his disciples (and all of us) at the Last Supper, “A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another (John 13:34).”
If someone asked me for my all-time favorite song, and said that I had to narrow it down to just one, Our Love is Here to Stay, would probably be at the top of the list. It is quite possibly the last song the Gershwin brothers wrote together, as it was released after George’s death in 1937. Everyone’s familiar with the verses and bridge, but here’s the often-overlooked introduction:
The more I read the papers, the less I comprehend
The world and all its capers and how it all will end.
Nothing seems to be lasting, but that isn’t our affair.
We’ve got something permanent,
I mean in the way we care.
Our Love is Here to Stay is from the film The Goldwyn Follies of 1938 and it was released shortly after George Gershwin’s death. In the film, Oliver Merlin, a Hollywood producer, realizes that he has become far removed from the “common folk”. He wants to hire a simple person to critically evaluate his movies. He finds the perfect candidate and offers her the job:
Oliver Merlin: I'm a producer of movies. I get my wagonloads of poets and dramatists, but I can't buy common sense – I cannot buy humanity!
Hazel Dawes: Well, I don't know why, Mr. Merlin. There's an awful lot of it.
Oliver Merlin: Yes, I know, but the moment I buy it, it turns into something else, usually genius, and it isn't worth a dime. Now, if you could stay just as simple as you are, you'd be invaluable to me. I'll put you on my staff. I'll give you a title, "Miss Humanity". Don't rush; you can finish your ice cream soda.
That’s kind of the whole human story. Ever since our eviction from the Garden of Eden, God has been at work, reconciling us to Him. He posted signs in the Earth and the heavens, set up laws, seated rulers, and inspired prophets. All these things were pointing to the fulfillment of the Law and the Prophets, when “the Word became flesh and made His dwelling among us” as St John’s Gospel states in verse 1:14. Or, as we say in the Nicene Creed, “For us and for our salvation, He came down from Heaven.”
It’s impossible for us to relate to what kind of “stepping down” the Lord did to get here for us. But on this night before He was betrayed and handed over to the authorities for crucifixion, He tells His dear friends the extent of His love for them. It's a love, timeless and unchanging. Here's how the Gershwins express it:
It’s very clear our love is here to stay.
Not for a year, but ever and a day.
The radio and the telephone
And the movies that we know
May just be passing fancies and in time may go.
But, oh my dear, our love is here to stay.
Together we’re going a long, long way.
In time the Rockies may crumble,
Gibraltar may tumble, they’re only made of clay,
But our love is here to stay.
After sharing the Passover meal, Jesus and the disciples sing a hymn, then make their way to Gethsemane. Unspeakable sadness and horror are on the horizon, but Jesus takes the opportunity to impress upon them the power of love – of His love for all of us and of our love for one another. Before they are all scattered, He holds them close:
I no longer call you servants, because servants do not know their master's business. Instead, I have called you friends, for everything that I learned from my Father I have made known to you.
– John 15:15
His love is on offer for all of us. Will we return that love? There is nothing more powerful. It is the greatest thing of all that remains.
In time the Rockies may crumble,
Gibraltar may tumble, they’re only made of clay,
But our love is here to stay.
lyrics by Ira Gershwin
music by George Gershwin
Maundy Thursday
Now before the festival of the Passover, Jesus knew that his hour had come to depart from this world and go to the Father. Having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end.
– John 13:1
And so, on this first day of spring 2008, we find ourselves at the precipice known as Maundy Thursday. The word “Maundy” has the same root as our word “mandate”, and it refers to what Jesus tells his disciples (and all of us) at the Last Supper, “A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another (John 13:34).”
If someone asked me for my all-time favorite song, and said that I had to narrow it down to just one, Our Love is Here to Stay, would probably be at the top of the list. It is quite possibly the last song the Gershwin brothers wrote together, as it was released after George’s death in 1937. Everyone’s familiar with the verses and bridge, but here’s the often-overlooked introduction:
The more I read the papers, the less I comprehend
The world and all its capers and how it all will end.
Nothing seems to be lasting, but that isn’t our affair.
We’ve got something permanent,
I mean in the way we care.
Our Love is Here to Stay is from the film The Goldwyn Follies of 1938 and it was released shortly after George Gershwin’s death. In the film, Oliver Merlin, a Hollywood producer, realizes that he has become far removed from the “common folk”. He wants to hire a simple person to critically evaluate his movies. He finds the perfect candidate and offers her the job:
Oliver Merlin: I'm a producer of movies. I get my wagonloads of poets and dramatists, but I can't buy common sense – I cannot buy humanity!
Hazel Dawes: Well, I don't know why, Mr. Merlin. There's an awful lot of it.
Oliver Merlin: Yes, I know, but the moment I buy it, it turns into something else, usually genius, and it isn't worth a dime. Now, if you could stay just as simple as you are, you'd be invaluable to me. I'll put you on my staff. I'll give you a title, "Miss Humanity". Don't rush; you can finish your ice cream soda.
That’s kind of the whole human story. Ever since our eviction from the Garden of Eden, God has been at work, reconciling us to Him. He posted signs in the Earth and the heavens, set up laws, seated rulers, and inspired prophets. All these things were pointing to the fulfillment of the Law and the Prophets, when “the Word became flesh and made His dwelling among us” as St John’s Gospel states in verse 1:14. Or, as we say in the Nicene Creed, “For us and for our salvation, He came down from Heaven.”
It’s impossible for us to relate to what kind of “stepping down” the Lord did to get here for us. But on this night before He was betrayed and handed over to the authorities for crucifixion, He tells His dear friends the extent of His love for them. It's a love, timeless and unchanging. Here's how the Gershwins express it:
It’s very clear our love is here to stay.
Not for a year, but ever and a day.
The radio and the telephone
And the movies that we know
May just be passing fancies and in time may go.
But, oh my dear, our love is here to stay.
Together we’re going a long, long way.
In time the Rockies may crumble,
Gibraltar may tumble, they’re only made of clay,
But our love is here to stay.
After sharing the Passover meal, Jesus and the disciples sing a hymn, then make their way to Gethsemane. Unspeakable sadness and horror are on the horizon, but Jesus takes the opportunity to impress upon them the power of love – of His love for all of us and of our love for one another. Before they are all scattered, He holds them close:
I no longer call you servants, because servants do not know their master's business. Instead, I have called you friends, for everything that I learned from my Father I have made known to you.
– John 15:15
His love is on offer for all of us. Will we return that love? There is nothing more powerful. It is the greatest thing of all that remains.
In time the Rockies may crumble,
Gibraltar may tumble, they’re only made of clay,
But our love is here to stay.
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
7 ½ Cents
7 ½ Cents
by Richard Adler and Jerry Ross
Then one of the Twelve—the one called Judas Iscariot—went to the chief priests and asked, "What are you willing to give me if I deliver him over to you?" So they counted out for him thirty pieces of silver. From then on Judas watched for an opportunity to hand him over.
– Matthew 26:14-16
So! Although!
Seven and a half cents doesn't buy a hell of a lot
Seven and a half cents doesn’t mean a thing . . .
– the Chorus in Pajama Game
Welcome again to Full-of-Woe Wednesday! This week that we call Holy Week is a world turned upside-down. And to follow through on that theme, in today’s post we’re going to go about things topsy-turvy, as well. My brother, Fuelgrip Skip, would like to write about one of his favorite songs, 7 ½ Cents from the 1954 musical Pajama Game. This has never been one of my favorites. So, here’s a transcript from our recent St Patrick’s Day outing. Maybe we can blame the green beer.
Fuelgrip: First off, I would think you’d give this musical a little latitude if for no other reason than it opened in 1954, our birth year.
Fireplug: I can think of a lot better things to celebrate from that year. There was the Brown v Board of Education decision. The first mass vaccinations against polio began. We added “under God” to the Pledge of Allegiance. And Yogi Berra and Willie Mays shared MVP honors . . .
Fuelgrip: Well, speaking of baseball, Joe DiMaggio married Marilyn Monroe. The first TV dinner was marketed. And the Fender Stratocaster guitar was first produced . . .
Fireplug: You’re citing those as pluses to me?
Fuelgrip: All right. Let’s get back to the music. Plus, you’ve already done one Billy Joel song this Lent.
Fireplug: We were starting to sound like We Didn’t Start the Fire, weren’t we?
Fuelgrip: So, when we encounter the song 7 ½ Cents in Act 2 of the show, Prez of the Pajama-Makers Union is just having one of those “light bulb over the head” moments:
I figured it out!
I figured it out!
With a pencil and a pad I figured it out!
Only five years from today!
Only five years from today!
I can see it all before me!
Only five years from today!
Five years! Let's see . . . that’s 260 weeks, times forty hours every week, and roughly two and a quarter hours overtime . . . at time and a half for overtime! Comes to exactly . . . $852.74!
That's enough for me to get
An automatic washing machine,
A year’s supply of gasoline,
Carpeting for the living room,
A vacuum instead of a blasted broom,
Not to mention a forty inch television set!
Fireplug: Let me say upfront that I think the idea of planning strategically for your future is great. And little things do add up to be a lot. But you know my whole problem with this show: it’s just one big ad for unions.
Fuelgrip: Just because the International Ladies Garment Workers’ Union underwrote the whole show, that shouldn’t totally taint it. I mean, without some sort of patronage, we wouldn’t have any musical on Broadway right now, not to mention Mozart or Shakespeare or . . .
Fireplug: True. But it just seems like the whole idea of unions is so passé, if not downright counterproductive.
Fuelgrip: Tell that to the coal miners.
Fireplug: I just think unions have outlived their usefulness: I didn’t say they weren’t important in the past. Tell you what, for every mustachioed, canary-carrying, candle-in-the-headlamp-wearing, “I owe my soul to the company store”, meat pie in the pocket, How Green Was My Valley coal miner you can find these days, I’ll spot you a major league pitcher bringing in $400,000 per pitch, or an actor whose net worth exceeds many African countries. What do they need help with? And when it comes to the “real” workers, like the coal miners, it seems to me that the only folks getting really wealthy are the union bosses.
Fuelgrip: Order me another round, while we continue with the song:
Only ten years from today,
Only ten years from today,
I can see it, clear as daylight,
Only ten years from today!
Ten years! Let's see . . . that’s 520 weeks, times forty hours every week, and roughly two and a quarter hours overtime . . . at time and a half for overtime! Comes to exactly . . . $1705.48!
That's enough for me to buy
A trip to France across the seas,
A motorboat and water skis,
Maybe even a foreign car,
A charge account at the corner bar,
Not to mention a scrabble board with letters made of gold!
Fireplug: Here’s your pint – and I hope you have a charge account at this bar!
Fuelgrip: I think I know why you don’t like this show: it’s from the first time we saw it as kids.
Fireplug: You mean that really scary guy that played Hines? Boy, he creeped me out!
Fuelgrip: I agree. For years after that, when people would warn us as kids not to take rides from strangers, I would see him in my mind’s eye as the driver of the car.
Fireplug: You too? Well, I hope my dislike of this show isn’t totally subjective. And there are a lot of the other songs that I really like.
Fuelgrip: Like which?
Fireplug: There Once Was a Man: it’s a lot of fun. I always wondered how this, yee-haw, Frankie Laine song sounded to Eisenhower-era theatre-goers.
Fuelgrip: What else?
Fireplug: Hey There is a good ballad and Steam Heat’s a very versatile number.
Fuelgrip: What about Her Is?
Fireplug: Creepy.
Fuelgrip: I’m Not at All in Love?
Fireplug: It's OK but a tad overblown.
Fuelgrip: Once a Year Day?
Fireplug: Now there’s what I’m talking about. It’s a fun enough song, but I always felt a little sad for the folks at the factory. It’s like there was this antagonism built in between the management and the workers, and the unions were willing to fan those flames just so they could appear necessary to the process. In fact, they actually held back the brightest and best: now those folks only get a “once a year day” and they’re limited to “7 ½ cents” in raises.
Fuelgrip: Let’s hear the last verse and I think we’ll hear what you’re talking about.
Fireplug: Do we have to go through all that math again?
Fuelgrip: I’m afraid we must:
(Babe and Prez): We figured it out!
We figured it out!
(All): With a pencil and a pad they figured it out
(Babe): Only twenty years from today
(Prez): Only twenty years from today
(Babe): I can see it like a vision
(All): Only twenty years from today
(Prez and Babe): Twenty years! Let's see . . . that’s 1040 weeks, times forty hours every week, and roughly two and a quarter hours overtime . . . at time and a half for overtime! Comes to exactly . . . $3411.96!
Wow!
(Prez): That's enough for me to be
A sultan in a Taj Mahal
In every room a different doll!
(Babe): I'll have myself a buying spree,
I'll buy a pajama factory,
Then I could end up having old man Hasler work for me!
(All): So! Although!
Seven and a half cents doesn't buy a hell of a lot,
Seven and a half cents doesn't mean a thing!
But give it to me every hour,
Forty hours every week,
And that's enough for me to be living like a king!
Fireplug: Do you think that Judas had also “done the math” with the thirty pieces of silver?
Fuelgrip: What do you mean?
Fireplug: Well, I don’t think he ever got the big picture with Jesus and His ministry. Judas got angry when the woman used all that costly perfume to wash Jesus’ feet. I don’t think he understood the symbolism that she was preparing Jesus’ body for burial.
Fuelgrip: Plus, Judas was more concerned with being in charge of the treasury – probably for his own benefit.
Fireplug: True. And as Jesus told him, there would be plenty of time to take care of the less fortunate – He was only going to be with them a little longer, so pay attention. It was kind of the same thing he told Martha when she was upset that Mary was just sitting there listening to Him.
Fuelgrip: And so you think Judas decided to take the money and run?
Fireplug: I know there’s more to it than that - a lot more - but I think he was also being really short-sighted.
Fuelgrip: But that’s why I like 7 ½ Cents. It’s encouraging people to think about the long haul.
Fireplug: Fair enough. But I just don’t think they need some union boss to help them with that. In the same way, I would much rather have the money I’m paying into Social Security to invest it myself. I know I’d do a lot better job.
Fuelgrip: Spoken in all modesty. Actually, though, I think you might be right. But back to Judas: those thirty pieces of silver did buy “a hell of a lot.”
Fireplug: Pretty good, brother. Hey, before you finish your beer, I know one song from Pajama Game that we can both agree on!
Fuelgrip: You mean Hernando’s Hideaway?
Fireplug: Yeah! We used to have a lot of fun with it. I think we’ve ruined that Robert Frost poem for more people, though.
Fuelgrip: So let’s warn anyone reading your blog on Wednesday. Folks: if you want to remember the work of Robert Frost as you always have, please quit reading now, and Fireplug will see you tomorrow.
Fireplug: OK. If you’re still with us today, sing the following poem to the tune of Hernando’s Hideaway. Enjoy!
Whose woods these are, I think I know
His house is in the village, though
He will not see my stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow
by Richard Adler and Jerry Ross
Then one of the Twelve—the one called Judas Iscariot—went to the chief priests and asked, "What are you willing to give me if I deliver him over to you?" So they counted out for him thirty pieces of silver. From then on Judas watched for an opportunity to hand him over.
– Matthew 26:14-16
So! Although!
Seven and a half cents doesn't buy a hell of a lot
Seven and a half cents doesn’t mean a thing . . .
– the Chorus in Pajama Game
Welcome again to Full-of-Woe Wednesday! This week that we call Holy Week is a world turned upside-down. And to follow through on that theme, in today’s post we’re going to go about things topsy-turvy, as well. My brother, Fuelgrip Skip, would like to write about one of his favorite songs, 7 ½ Cents from the 1954 musical Pajama Game. This has never been one of my favorites. So, here’s a transcript from our recent St Patrick’s Day outing. Maybe we can blame the green beer.
Fuelgrip: First off, I would think you’d give this musical a little latitude if for no other reason than it opened in 1954, our birth year.
Fireplug: I can think of a lot better things to celebrate from that year. There was the Brown v Board of Education decision. The first mass vaccinations against polio began. We added “under God” to the Pledge of Allegiance. And Yogi Berra and Willie Mays shared MVP honors . . .
Fuelgrip: Well, speaking of baseball, Joe DiMaggio married Marilyn Monroe. The first TV dinner was marketed. And the Fender Stratocaster guitar was first produced . . .
Fireplug: You’re citing those as pluses to me?
Fuelgrip: All right. Let’s get back to the music. Plus, you’ve already done one Billy Joel song this Lent.
Fireplug: We were starting to sound like We Didn’t Start the Fire, weren’t we?
Fuelgrip: So, when we encounter the song 7 ½ Cents in Act 2 of the show, Prez of the Pajama-Makers Union is just having one of those “light bulb over the head” moments:
I figured it out!
I figured it out!
With a pencil and a pad I figured it out!
Only five years from today!
Only five years from today!
I can see it all before me!
Only five years from today!
Five years! Let's see . . . that’s 260 weeks, times forty hours every week, and roughly two and a quarter hours overtime . . . at time and a half for overtime! Comes to exactly . . . $852.74!
That's enough for me to get
An automatic washing machine,
A year’s supply of gasoline,
Carpeting for the living room,
A vacuum instead of a blasted broom,
Not to mention a forty inch television set!
Fireplug: Let me say upfront that I think the idea of planning strategically for your future is great. And little things do add up to be a lot. But you know my whole problem with this show: it’s just one big ad for unions.
Fuelgrip: Just because the International Ladies Garment Workers’ Union underwrote the whole show, that shouldn’t totally taint it. I mean, without some sort of patronage, we wouldn’t have any musical on Broadway right now, not to mention Mozart or Shakespeare or . . .
Fireplug: True. But it just seems like the whole idea of unions is so passé, if not downright counterproductive.
Fuelgrip: Tell that to the coal miners.
Fireplug: I just think unions have outlived their usefulness: I didn’t say they weren’t important in the past. Tell you what, for every mustachioed, canary-carrying, candle-in-the-headlamp-wearing, “I owe my soul to the company store”, meat pie in the pocket, How Green Was My Valley coal miner you can find these days, I’ll spot you a major league pitcher bringing in $400,000 per pitch, or an actor whose net worth exceeds many African countries. What do they need help with? And when it comes to the “real” workers, like the coal miners, it seems to me that the only folks getting really wealthy are the union bosses.
Fuelgrip: Order me another round, while we continue with the song:
Only ten years from today,
Only ten years from today,
I can see it, clear as daylight,
Only ten years from today!
Ten years! Let's see . . . that’s 520 weeks, times forty hours every week, and roughly two and a quarter hours overtime . . . at time and a half for overtime! Comes to exactly . . . $1705.48!
That's enough for me to buy
A trip to France across the seas,
A motorboat and water skis,
Maybe even a foreign car,
A charge account at the corner bar,
Not to mention a scrabble board with letters made of gold!
Fireplug: Here’s your pint – and I hope you have a charge account at this bar!
Fuelgrip: I think I know why you don’t like this show: it’s from the first time we saw it as kids.
Fireplug: You mean that really scary guy that played Hines? Boy, he creeped me out!
Fuelgrip: I agree. For years after that, when people would warn us as kids not to take rides from strangers, I would see him in my mind’s eye as the driver of the car.
Fireplug: You too? Well, I hope my dislike of this show isn’t totally subjective. And there are a lot of the other songs that I really like.
Fuelgrip: Like which?
Fireplug: There Once Was a Man: it’s a lot of fun. I always wondered how this, yee-haw, Frankie Laine song sounded to Eisenhower-era theatre-goers.
Fuelgrip: What else?
Fireplug: Hey There is a good ballad and Steam Heat’s a very versatile number.
Fuelgrip: What about Her Is?
Fireplug: Creepy.
Fuelgrip: I’m Not at All in Love?
Fireplug: It's OK but a tad overblown.
Fuelgrip: Once a Year Day?
Fireplug: Now there’s what I’m talking about. It’s a fun enough song, but I always felt a little sad for the folks at the factory. It’s like there was this antagonism built in between the management and the workers, and the unions were willing to fan those flames just so they could appear necessary to the process. In fact, they actually held back the brightest and best: now those folks only get a “once a year day” and they’re limited to “7 ½ cents” in raises.
Fuelgrip: Let’s hear the last verse and I think we’ll hear what you’re talking about.
Fireplug: Do we have to go through all that math again?
Fuelgrip: I’m afraid we must:
(Babe and Prez): We figured it out!
We figured it out!
(All): With a pencil and a pad they figured it out
(Babe): Only twenty years from today
(Prez): Only twenty years from today
(Babe): I can see it like a vision
(All): Only twenty years from today
(Prez and Babe): Twenty years! Let's see . . . that’s 1040 weeks, times forty hours every week, and roughly two and a quarter hours overtime . . . at time and a half for overtime! Comes to exactly . . . $3411.96!
Wow!
(Prez): That's enough for me to be
A sultan in a Taj Mahal
In every room a different doll!
(Babe): I'll have myself a buying spree,
I'll buy a pajama factory,
Then I could end up having old man Hasler work for me!
(All): So! Although!
Seven and a half cents doesn't buy a hell of a lot,
Seven and a half cents doesn't mean a thing!
But give it to me every hour,
Forty hours every week,
And that's enough for me to be living like a king!
Fireplug: Do you think that Judas had also “done the math” with the thirty pieces of silver?
Fuelgrip: What do you mean?
Fireplug: Well, I don’t think he ever got the big picture with Jesus and His ministry. Judas got angry when the woman used all that costly perfume to wash Jesus’ feet. I don’t think he understood the symbolism that she was preparing Jesus’ body for burial.
Fuelgrip: Plus, Judas was more concerned with being in charge of the treasury – probably for his own benefit.
Fireplug: True. And as Jesus told him, there would be plenty of time to take care of the less fortunate – He was only going to be with them a little longer, so pay attention. It was kind of the same thing he told Martha when she was upset that Mary was just sitting there listening to Him.
Fuelgrip: And so you think Judas decided to take the money and run?
Fireplug: I know there’s more to it than that - a lot more - but I think he was also being really short-sighted.
Fuelgrip: But that’s why I like 7 ½ Cents. It’s encouraging people to think about the long haul.
Fireplug: Fair enough. But I just don’t think they need some union boss to help them with that. In the same way, I would much rather have the money I’m paying into Social Security to invest it myself. I know I’d do a lot better job.
Fuelgrip: Spoken in all modesty. Actually, though, I think you might be right. But back to Judas: those thirty pieces of silver did buy “a hell of a lot.”
Fireplug: Pretty good, brother. Hey, before you finish your beer, I know one song from Pajama Game that we can both agree on!
Fuelgrip: You mean Hernando’s Hideaway?
Fireplug: Yeah! We used to have a lot of fun with it. I think we’ve ruined that Robert Frost poem for more people, though.
Fuelgrip: So let’s warn anyone reading your blog on Wednesday. Folks: if you want to remember the work of Robert Frost as you always have, please quit reading now, and Fireplug will see you tomorrow.
Fireplug: OK. If you’re still with us today, sing the following poem to the tune of Hernando’s Hideaway. Enjoy!
Whose woods these are, I think I know
His house is in the village, though
He will not see my stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Will I?
Will I?
by Jonathan Larson
Will I lose my dignity?
Will someone care?
Will I wake tomorrow
From this nightmare?
That’s all the words there are to today’s song. Once you’ve heard it, though, you might find it impossible to get out of your mind. Will I? is from the 1996 musical Rent, a Tony- and Pulitzer-prize winning show. Sadly, its creator, Jonathan Larson, received all his awards posthumously – he died the night before Rent’s opening of an aortic aneurysm.
Now, truth be told, I’ve never cared all that much for Rent. First of all, it’s a reworking of Giacomo Puccini’s opera La Bohème, and I’m not sure why Puccini’s masterpiece needed to be “updated”. We saw Baz Luhrman’s production of La Bohème in New York City in 2003. He had set it in 1957 Paris and had modernized the language in the subtitles (but not the sung words) and it worked just great for me. But to loosely take the storyline and think that, in order for modern audiences to “get it”, it needed (1) to be set in the artsy parts of New York City in the 1990s; (2) to change references from “tuberculosis” to “HIV/AIDS”; (3) to replace Puccini’s beautiful score with a small rock “orchestra”; and (4) to have that heavy dose of “attitude” that popular culture seems marinated in today – well, it just seems like creative teams these days have so little faith in their audiences that they don’t think they can make the connection from an older production to the present. It actually makes me long for the days when a creative artists’ indulgence was “relevance” rather than today’s “in your face”. I think people have more smarts than they give them credit for – at least I hope that’s still the case.
And then there was the music. The spare orchestrations probably made perfect sense when Rent started off-Broadway in a small space at the New York Theatre Workshop. But when it moved “uptown” to the Nederlander Theatre, I think they might have sprung for some more instruments. They surely were already paying for them under union rules. As for the songs themselves, I always found them to pale in comparison with Mr Puccini’s earlier works. To me, Mr Larson’s pieces lacked heft.
Except for this one. Will I? is an amazing piece of music to me. There are only four lines of text and the music just keeps repeating. But each time the stanza begins again, voices begin to enter. Then, they sign in rounds. Then, harmony is added. Then, the counterpoint begins to enter in mid-measure. The melody of the piece is intriguing, as well. It is very simple, but at the same time, there is a quirk to the rhythm that keeps it interesting. The first time I heard the piece, I thought it was in a strange meter. (I did the same thing with On the Willows from Godspell, the first time I heard it.) It wasn’t until the second time I listened to Will I?, and consciously counted the beats, that I realized that it was in a simple 8-measure, 4/4 rhythm.
We had a Cancer Ministry Workshop at church a couple of weeks ago. I thought of Mr Larson’s song then, too. We learned that people who are facing extreme health challenges (like cancer or AIDS or other life-threatening conditions) asked these same questions. It was amazing, too, how the training for ministering to cancer patients could apply to just about any homebound visitation situation.
Another of Mr Larson’s plays was Tick . . .Tick . . .Boom. It was never a hit and really only had a limited run after the phenomenal success of Rent. We’re also in the middle of a countdown this week. What is going on in the minds of Jesus and His followers? We know that, a couple of nights from now, Jesus will ask the Father very similar questions when he entreats Him, “Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me.”
All hell will break loose on Thursday and Friday of this week. We know that Jesus will be scourged, mocked, spat upon. In answer to His question, “Will I lose my dignity?” the answer, I’m afraid, is “yes”. And to “Will someone care?”, the answer is a little more complex: the disciples will scatter, leaving John, Mary (his mother), and some of the other women at the foot of the Cross. And, if Jesus asked you “Will I awaken from this nightmare?”, what would you, as a trusted friend and someone He loves very much, tell Him?
Tick . . . Tick . . .
And thanks, be to God, the Lord still says, “Nevertheless, not my will, but Yours be done.”
by Jonathan Larson
Will I lose my dignity?
Will someone care?
Will I wake tomorrow
From this nightmare?
That’s all the words there are to today’s song. Once you’ve heard it, though, you might find it impossible to get out of your mind. Will I? is from the 1996 musical Rent, a Tony- and Pulitzer-prize winning show. Sadly, its creator, Jonathan Larson, received all his awards posthumously – he died the night before Rent’s opening of an aortic aneurysm.
Now, truth be told, I’ve never cared all that much for Rent. First of all, it’s a reworking of Giacomo Puccini’s opera La Bohème, and I’m not sure why Puccini’s masterpiece needed to be “updated”. We saw Baz Luhrman’s production of La Bohème in New York City in 2003. He had set it in 1957 Paris and had modernized the language in the subtitles (but not the sung words) and it worked just great for me. But to loosely take the storyline and think that, in order for modern audiences to “get it”, it needed (1) to be set in the artsy parts of New York City in the 1990s; (2) to change references from “tuberculosis” to “HIV/AIDS”; (3) to replace Puccini’s beautiful score with a small rock “orchestra”; and (4) to have that heavy dose of “attitude” that popular culture seems marinated in today – well, it just seems like creative teams these days have so little faith in their audiences that they don’t think they can make the connection from an older production to the present. It actually makes me long for the days when a creative artists’ indulgence was “relevance” rather than today’s “in your face”. I think people have more smarts than they give them credit for – at least I hope that’s still the case.
And then there was the music. The spare orchestrations probably made perfect sense when Rent started off-Broadway in a small space at the New York Theatre Workshop. But when it moved “uptown” to the Nederlander Theatre, I think they might have sprung for some more instruments. They surely were already paying for them under union rules. As for the songs themselves, I always found them to pale in comparison with Mr Puccini’s earlier works. To me, Mr Larson’s pieces lacked heft.
Except for this one. Will I? is an amazing piece of music to me. There are only four lines of text and the music just keeps repeating. But each time the stanza begins again, voices begin to enter. Then, they sign in rounds. Then, harmony is added. Then, the counterpoint begins to enter in mid-measure. The melody of the piece is intriguing, as well. It is very simple, but at the same time, there is a quirk to the rhythm that keeps it interesting. The first time I heard the piece, I thought it was in a strange meter. (I did the same thing with On the Willows from Godspell, the first time I heard it.) It wasn’t until the second time I listened to Will I?, and consciously counted the beats, that I realized that it was in a simple 8-measure, 4/4 rhythm.
We had a Cancer Ministry Workshop at church a couple of weeks ago. I thought of Mr Larson’s song then, too. We learned that people who are facing extreme health challenges (like cancer or AIDS or other life-threatening conditions) asked these same questions. It was amazing, too, how the training for ministering to cancer patients could apply to just about any homebound visitation situation.
Another of Mr Larson’s plays was Tick . . .Tick . . .Boom. It was never a hit and really only had a limited run after the phenomenal success of Rent. We’re also in the middle of a countdown this week. What is going on in the minds of Jesus and His followers? We know that, a couple of nights from now, Jesus will ask the Father very similar questions when he entreats Him, “Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me.”
All hell will break loose on Thursday and Friday of this week. We know that Jesus will be scourged, mocked, spat upon. In answer to His question, “Will I lose my dignity?” the answer, I’m afraid, is “yes”. And to “Will someone care?”, the answer is a little more complex: the disciples will scatter, leaving John, Mary (his mother), and some of the other women at the foot of the Cross. And, if Jesus asked you “Will I awaken from this nightmare?”, what would you, as a trusted friend and someone He loves very much, tell Him?
Tick . . . Tick . . .
And thanks, be to God, the Lord still says, “Nevertheless, not my will, but Yours be done.”
Monday, March 17, 2008
If I Knocked the "L" Out of Kelly
If I Knocked the “L” Out of Kelly
lyrics by Sam Lewis and Joe Young
music by George W Meyer
St Patrick's Day
An’ a top of the mornin’ to ya! We kick off Holy Week with the wearin’ o’ the green. As we remember Ireland’s Patron Saint Patrick today, we also traditionally remember the Monday after Palm Sunday as the day when Jesus drives the money changers out of the temple. It must be an important story, because Matthew, Mark and Luke all three record it. After the ride into Jerusalem on the donkey, Jesus enters the Temple and, quoting Jeremiah 7:11, exclaims:
Is it not written, “My house will be called a house of prayer for all nations”? But you have made it “a den of robbers!” (Matthew 21:13, Mark 11:17 and Luke 19:46).
Jesus then forcibly drives out those who were changing money into “temple currency”, selling animals, and the like. We all like to think of “gentle Jesus, meek and mild”, but we do well to remember that He got angry at those things which kept God’s children from Him.
Saint Patrick was also famous for driving out bad things. I’ve not yet been to Ireland, but if the Guinness and the beautiful countryside didn’t already call me, I would be drawn there by the fact that, like Hawai’i, there are no snakes on the island. I have a confession to make: when I was younger and would come across a picture of snakes (in National Geographic or the World Book), I would keep those pages together as I quickly turned them. Some people don’t like spiders or bugs, but an island with no snakes is my idea of paradise.
I don’t know if it rises to the level of Jesus’ righteous anger in the Temple, but today’s song deals with some of that famous, red-headed temper. It begins with a simple business transaction gone awry:
Timothy Kelly, who owned a big store;
Wanted his name painted over the door;
One day Pat Clancy the painter man came;
He tried to be fancy, but misspelled the name;
I actually can empathize with Mr Clancy. XM radio has been running an Irish music channel for the weekend. After having it on for the past 30 hours or so, I think I am becoming an honorary Irishman, as evidenced by this progression that has been forced upon my by the music:
Blurring the distinction between valid religious saints and mythical beings
Heavy drinking
Insanity
Just kidding! (I’m a kidder.) But seriously, that music causes you to take a stand after a while. My left ear is hurting today and, ordinarily, I’d worry that I was getting an ear infection. In reality, it might just be the penny whistle. Anyway, back to our song. Pat Clancy the painter may have had one of those legendary “free lunches” at the pub before painting Mr Kelly’s sign, because here’s what happened:
Instead of “Kelly” with double L Y
He spelled it “Kely”, but one L was shy
We all know the importance of a good name from Proverbs 22:1, “A good name is more desirable than great riches; to be esteemed is better than silver or gold.” Well, our narrator gives us similar words of warning. It’s hard to know whether he sings the following chorus after seeing painter Clancy nursing a Guinness in one hand while holding a beefsteak on his eye with the other. Maybe, he’s just relaying how he would feel if someone got his name wrong. Or maybe storeowner Kelly is famous for his temper. At any rate, we get a crash course on the importance of spelling:
If I knocked the “L” out of Kelly
it would still be Kelly to me
sure a single L Y
or a double L Y
would look just the same to an Irishman’s eye
Knock off an L from Killarny sure Killarny it ever will be
but If I knocked the “L” out of Kelly
sure he’d knock the “L” out of me!
Jesus seemed to be very concerned with His Father’s good name, too. In church yesterday, Jim offered an intriguing idea as to the reason for Jesus’ anger. Jim first explained how the Temple was laid out. It was an enormous structure built in a series of concentric squares (if that’s not mixing a metaphor). In the innermost part was the Holy of Holies, where only the High Priest could go once a year. Then there was the Holy area for only the priests. Next was the men’s courtyard and just outside that was the women’s courtyard. All these aforementioned areas were only for Jews: a gentile faced death if he or she was found in any of these parts. The outermost courtyard of the Temple (but still within the Temple) was the courtyard of the gentiles and everyone was welcome there. It was the only place where non-Jews could go within the Temple walls, and that was the area where all the money-changing and trading was going on. Jim asked us to imagine if we were trying to worship God in that area (the only place as foreigners we could go), it would be difficult if not impossible to focus our worship on the Lord with all that commotion going on around us. When Jesus is quoting Jeremiah (“my temple is a house of prayer for all nations . . .”), he is stressing that importance.
The nation of Ireland has recently become quite an economic force. After years of being hampered with socialism and lethargy, Ireland in the last few years has drastically cut tax rates – and revenues have soared. They have encouraged private development and ownership, and the economy is booming. In short, Ireland has encouraged the foreigner to come within its purview and has removed those barriers which have impeded both them and their nationals to succeed. Think of that when you put on your “green” today.
When I was a boy and heard the line from today’s song, “he’d knock the ‘L’ out of me”, I knew there was a pun there but I couldn’t quite grasp it. It was the same way with that joke about a door being “ajar”. When we get older, we get the humor – or the gravity – of a situation that we might have missed when we were younger. And then sometimes, even when we don’t understand something, we just have to defer to a trusted friend. Often, it’s the little things – a missing “L”, a little commotion in the courtyard – that are actually the big things. Just ask Mr Kelly, or the Lord Himself.
As we hoist a pint or a "wee dram" this evening, we do well to remember those instructions from the Lord that often seem minor, but that actually, in His infinite wisdom, are intended to bring us to health and wholeness and a closer walk with Him.
Slàinte!
lyrics by Sam Lewis and Joe Young
music by George W Meyer
St Patrick's Day
An’ a top of the mornin’ to ya! We kick off Holy Week with the wearin’ o’ the green. As we remember Ireland’s Patron Saint Patrick today, we also traditionally remember the Monday after Palm Sunday as the day when Jesus drives the money changers out of the temple. It must be an important story, because Matthew, Mark and Luke all three record it. After the ride into Jerusalem on the donkey, Jesus enters the Temple and, quoting Jeremiah 7:11, exclaims:
Is it not written, “My house will be called a house of prayer for all nations”? But you have made it “a den of robbers!” (Matthew 21:13, Mark 11:17 and Luke 19:46).
Jesus then forcibly drives out those who were changing money into “temple currency”, selling animals, and the like. We all like to think of “gentle Jesus, meek and mild”, but we do well to remember that He got angry at those things which kept God’s children from Him.
Saint Patrick was also famous for driving out bad things. I’ve not yet been to Ireland, but if the Guinness and the beautiful countryside didn’t already call me, I would be drawn there by the fact that, like Hawai’i, there are no snakes on the island. I have a confession to make: when I was younger and would come across a picture of snakes (in National Geographic or the World Book), I would keep those pages together as I quickly turned them. Some people don’t like spiders or bugs, but an island with no snakes is my idea of paradise.
I don’t know if it rises to the level of Jesus’ righteous anger in the Temple, but today’s song deals with some of that famous, red-headed temper. It begins with a simple business transaction gone awry:
Timothy Kelly, who owned a big store;
Wanted his name painted over the door;
One day Pat Clancy the painter man came;
He tried to be fancy, but misspelled the name;
I actually can empathize with Mr Clancy. XM radio has been running an Irish music channel for the weekend. After having it on for the past 30 hours or so, I think I am becoming an honorary Irishman, as evidenced by this progression that has been forced upon my by the music:
Blurring the distinction between valid religious saints and mythical beings
Heavy drinking
Insanity
Just kidding! (I’m a kidder.) But seriously, that music causes you to take a stand after a while. My left ear is hurting today and, ordinarily, I’d worry that I was getting an ear infection. In reality, it might just be the penny whistle. Anyway, back to our song. Pat Clancy the painter may have had one of those legendary “free lunches” at the pub before painting Mr Kelly’s sign, because here’s what happened:
Instead of “Kelly” with double L Y
He spelled it “Kely”, but one L was shy
We all know the importance of a good name from Proverbs 22:1, “A good name is more desirable than great riches; to be esteemed is better than silver or gold.” Well, our narrator gives us similar words of warning. It’s hard to know whether he sings the following chorus after seeing painter Clancy nursing a Guinness in one hand while holding a beefsteak on his eye with the other. Maybe, he’s just relaying how he would feel if someone got his name wrong. Or maybe storeowner Kelly is famous for his temper. At any rate, we get a crash course on the importance of spelling:
If I knocked the “L” out of Kelly
it would still be Kelly to me
sure a single L Y
or a double L Y
would look just the same to an Irishman’s eye
Knock off an L from Killarny sure Killarny it ever will be
but If I knocked the “L” out of Kelly
sure he’d knock the “L” out of me!
Jesus seemed to be very concerned with His Father’s good name, too. In church yesterday, Jim offered an intriguing idea as to the reason for Jesus’ anger. Jim first explained how the Temple was laid out. It was an enormous structure built in a series of concentric squares (if that’s not mixing a metaphor). In the innermost part was the Holy of Holies, where only the High Priest could go once a year. Then there was the Holy area for only the priests. Next was the men’s courtyard and just outside that was the women’s courtyard. All these aforementioned areas were only for Jews: a gentile faced death if he or she was found in any of these parts. The outermost courtyard of the Temple (but still within the Temple) was the courtyard of the gentiles and everyone was welcome there. It was the only place where non-Jews could go within the Temple walls, and that was the area where all the money-changing and trading was going on. Jim asked us to imagine if we were trying to worship God in that area (the only place as foreigners we could go), it would be difficult if not impossible to focus our worship on the Lord with all that commotion going on around us. When Jesus is quoting Jeremiah (“my temple is a house of prayer for all nations . . .”), he is stressing that importance.
The nation of Ireland has recently become quite an economic force. After years of being hampered with socialism and lethargy, Ireland in the last few years has drastically cut tax rates – and revenues have soared. They have encouraged private development and ownership, and the economy is booming. In short, Ireland has encouraged the foreigner to come within its purview and has removed those barriers which have impeded both them and their nationals to succeed. Think of that when you put on your “green” today.
When I was a boy and heard the line from today’s song, “he’d knock the ‘L’ out of me”, I knew there was a pun there but I couldn’t quite grasp it. It was the same way with that joke about a door being “ajar”. When we get older, we get the humor – or the gravity – of a situation that we might have missed when we were younger. And then sometimes, even when we don’t understand something, we just have to defer to a trusted friend. Often, it’s the little things – a missing “L”, a little commotion in the courtyard – that are actually the big things. Just ask Mr Kelly, or the Lord Himself.
As we hoist a pint or a "wee dram" this evening, we do well to remember those instructions from the Lord that often seem minor, but that actually, in His infinite wisdom, are intended to bring us to health and wholeness and a closer walk with Him.
Slàinte!
Saturday, March 15, 2008
I Go to Extremes
I Go to Extremes
by Billy Joel
And if I stand or I fall
It's all or nothing at all
Darling I don't know why I go to extremes
Tomorrow we celebrate Palm Sunday, when Jesus rides into Jerusalem as a King. A short five days later, He is being crucified between two thieves, and his followers are running for their lives and hiding in fear. But just two days after that, we have the most joyous news ever announced. We are beginning a week of extremes. This is a roller-coaster week of proclamation and denial, of love and betrayal, of “Hosanna!” and “Crucify Him!”, of despondency and elation, of death and new life.
Billy Joel’s song today offers words that I find applicable to this week. I recall all those who have gone on before us, who ran the good race, “fought the good fight”, and gave it their all. Think of John the Baptist, the “voice crying in the wilderness” whose head ended up on a platter. Or Mary the Mother of Jesus, who from the time Jesus was born “treasured all these things in her heart” and then this week witnesses grief and pain that we can only begin to grasp. There’s Peter, who told the Lord he would be right there for him, who with bravado cut off the soldier’s ear, who then denied the Lord three times, and then who later still became the Rock on which Christ built His church. And then there’s St Paul, who ran at full throttle after his conversion and who was “already being poured out like a drink offering” when the time came for his departure (2 Timothy 4:6).
Call me a joker, call me a fool
Right at this moment I'm totally cool
Clear as a crystal, sharp as a knife
I feel like I'm in the prime of my life
Sometimes it feels like I'm going too fast
I don't know how long this feeling will last
Maybe it's only tonight
Darling I don't know why I go to extremes
Too high or too low there ain't no in-betweens
And if I stand or I fall
It's all or nothing at all
Darling I don't know why I go to extremes
In his book Orthodoxy, G K Chesterton looks at differences in the art of two different religious traditions: “No two ideals could be more opposite than a Christian saint in a Gothic cathedral and a Buddhist saint in a Chinese temple. The opposition exists at every point; but perhaps the shortest statement of it is that the Buddhist saint always has his eyes shut, while the Christian saint always has them very wide open. The Buddhist saint has a sleek and harmonious body, but his eyes are heavy and sealed with sleep. The mediaeval saint's body is wasted to its crazy bones, but his eyes are frightfully alive. . . Granted that both images are extravagances, are perversions of the pure creed, it must be a real divergence which could produce such opposite extravagances. The Buddhist is looking with a peculiar intentness inwards. The Christian is staring with a frantic intentness outwards.”
Sometimes I'm tired, sometimes I'm shot
Sometimes I don't know how much more I've got
Maybe I'm headed over the hill
Maybe I've set myself up for the kill
Tell me how much do you think you can take
Until the heart in you is starting to break?
Sometimes it feels like it will
Darling I don't know why I go to extremes
Too high or too low there ain't no in-betweens
You can be sure when I'm gone
I won't be out there too long
Darling I don't know why I go to extremes
But what if Jesus is not the extreme at all? What if we, all of us through history, are the extremists and He is the center, as He invites us in Matthew 11:28: “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.”? Mr Chesterton sets forth this very intriguing proposition, also in Orthodoxy: “Suppose we heard an unknown man spoken of by many men. Suppose we were puzzled to hear that some men said he was too tall and some too short; some objected to his fatness, some lamented his leanness; some thought him too dark, and some too fair. One explanation . . . would be that he might be an odd shape. But there is another explanation. He might be the right shape. Outrageously tall men might feel him to be short. Very short men might feel him to be tall. Old bucks who are growing stout might consider him insufficiently filled out; old beaux who were growing thin might feel that he expanded beyond the narrow lines of elegance. . . Perhaps (in short) this extraordinary thing is really the ordinary thing; at least the normal thing, the centre. Perhaps, after all, it is Christianity that is sane and all its critics that are mad--in various ways. I tested this idea by asking myself whether there was about any of the accusers anything morbid that might explain the accusation. I was startled to find that this key fitted a lock. For instance, it was certainly odd that the modern world charged Christianity at once with bodily austerity and with artistic pomp. But then it was also odd, very odd, that the modern world itself combined extreme bodily luxury with an extreme absence of artistic pomp. The modern man thought Becket's robes too rich and his meals too poor. But then the modern man was really exceptional in history; no man before ever ate such elaborate dinners in such ugly clothes. The modern man found the church too simple exactly where modern life is too complex; he found the church too gorgeous exactly where modern life is too dingy. . .”
Out of the darkness, into the light
Leaving the scene of the crime
Either I'm wrong or I'm perfectly right every time
Sometimes I lie awake, night after night
Coming apart at the seams
Eager to please, ready to fight
Why do I go to extremes?
C S Lewis in Mere Christianity leaves no middle ground when it comes to the options that are open to us: “I am trying here to prevent anyone saying the really foolish thing that people often say about Him: 'I'm ready to accept Jesus as a great moral teacher, but I don't accept His claim to be God.' That is the one thing we must not say. A man who was merely a man and said the sort of things Jesus said would not be a great moral teacher. He would be either a lunatic — on a level with the man who says he is a poached egg — or else he would be the Devil of Hell. You must make your choice. Either this man was, and is, the Son of God: or else a madman or something worse. You can shut Him up for a fool, you can spit at Him and kill Him as a demon; or you can fall at His feet and call Him Lord and God. But let us not come with any patronising nonsense about His being a great human teacher. He has not left that open to us. He did not intend to.”
Darling I don't know why I go to extremes
Too high or too low there ain't no in-betweens
And if I stand or I fall
It's all or nothing at all
Darling I don't know why I go to extremes
And as we begin this Holy Week of extremes, Mr Joel leaves us with these words of reminder and comfort:
You can be sure when I'm gone
I won't be out there too long
Darling I don't know why I go to extremes
by Billy Joel
And if I stand or I fall
It's all or nothing at all
Darling I don't know why I go to extremes
Tomorrow we celebrate Palm Sunday, when Jesus rides into Jerusalem as a King. A short five days later, He is being crucified between two thieves, and his followers are running for their lives and hiding in fear. But just two days after that, we have the most joyous news ever announced. We are beginning a week of extremes. This is a roller-coaster week of proclamation and denial, of love and betrayal, of “Hosanna!” and “Crucify Him!”, of despondency and elation, of death and new life.
Billy Joel’s song today offers words that I find applicable to this week. I recall all those who have gone on before us, who ran the good race, “fought the good fight”, and gave it their all. Think of John the Baptist, the “voice crying in the wilderness” whose head ended up on a platter. Or Mary the Mother of Jesus, who from the time Jesus was born “treasured all these things in her heart” and then this week witnesses grief and pain that we can only begin to grasp. There’s Peter, who told the Lord he would be right there for him, who with bravado cut off the soldier’s ear, who then denied the Lord three times, and then who later still became the Rock on which Christ built His church. And then there’s St Paul, who ran at full throttle after his conversion and who was “already being poured out like a drink offering” when the time came for his departure (2 Timothy 4:6).
Call me a joker, call me a fool
Right at this moment I'm totally cool
Clear as a crystal, sharp as a knife
I feel like I'm in the prime of my life
Sometimes it feels like I'm going too fast
I don't know how long this feeling will last
Maybe it's only tonight
Darling I don't know why I go to extremes
Too high or too low there ain't no in-betweens
And if I stand or I fall
It's all or nothing at all
Darling I don't know why I go to extremes
In his book Orthodoxy, G K Chesterton looks at differences in the art of two different religious traditions: “No two ideals could be more opposite than a Christian saint in a Gothic cathedral and a Buddhist saint in a Chinese temple. The opposition exists at every point; but perhaps the shortest statement of it is that the Buddhist saint always has his eyes shut, while the Christian saint always has them very wide open. The Buddhist saint has a sleek and harmonious body, but his eyes are heavy and sealed with sleep. The mediaeval saint's body is wasted to its crazy bones, but his eyes are frightfully alive. . . Granted that both images are extravagances, are perversions of the pure creed, it must be a real divergence which could produce such opposite extravagances. The Buddhist is looking with a peculiar intentness inwards. The Christian is staring with a frantic intentness outwards.”
Sometimes I'm tired, sometimes I'm shot
Sometimes I don't know how much more I've got
Maybe I'm headed over the hill
Maybe I've set myself up for the kill
Tell me how much do you think you can take
Until the heart in you is starting to break?
Sometimes it feels like it will
Darling I don't know why I go to extremes
Too high or too low there ain't no in-betweens
You can be sure when I'm gone
I won't be out there too long
Darling I don't know why I go to extremes
But what if Jesus is not the extreme at all? What if we, all of us through history, are the extremists and He is the center, as He invites us in Matthew 11:28: “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.”? Mr Chesterton sets forth this very intriguing proposition, also in Orthodoxy: “Suppose we heard an unknown man spoken of by many men. Suppose we were puzzled to hear that some men said he was too tall and some too short; some objected to his fatness, some lamented his leanness; some thought him too dark, and some too fair. One explanation . . . would be that he might be an odd shape. But there is another explanation. He might be the right shape. Outrageously tall men might feel him to be short. Very short men might feel him to be tall. Old bucks who are growing stout might consider him insufficiently filled out; old beaux who were growing thin might feel that he expanded beyond the narrow lines of elegance. . . Perhaps (in short) this extraordinary thing is really the ordinary thing; at least the normal thing, the centre. Perhaps, after all, it is Christianity that is sane and all its critics that are mad--in various ways. I tested this idea by asking myself whether there was about any of the accusers anything morbid that might explain the accusation. I was startled to find that this key fitted a lock. For instance, it was certainly odd that the modern world charged Christianity at once with bodily austerity and with artistic pomp. But then it was also odd, very odd, that the modern world itself combined extreme bodily luxury with an extreme absence of artistic pomp. The modern man thought Becket's robes too rich and his meals too poor. But then the modern man was really exceptional in history; no man before ever ate such elaborate dinners in such ugly clothes. The modern man found the church too simple exactly where modern life is too complex; he found the church too gorgeous exactly where modern life is too dingy. . .”
Out of the darkness, into the light
Leaving the scene of the crime
Either I'm wrong or I'm perfectly right every time
Sometimes I lie awake, night after night
Coming apart at the seams
Eager to please, ready to fight
Why do I go to extremes?
C S Lewis in Mere Christianity leaves no middle ground when it comes to the options that are open to us: “I am trying here to prevent anyone saying the really foolish thing that people often say about Him: 'I'm ready to accept Jesus as a great moral teacher, but I don't accept His claim to be God.' That is the one thing we must not say. A man who was merely a man and said the sort of things Jesus said would not be a great moral teacher. He would be either a lunatic — on a level with the man who says he is a poached egg — or else he would be the Devil of Hell. You must make your choice. Either this man was, and is, the Son of God: or else a madman or something worse. You can shut Him up for a fool, you can spit at Him and kill Him as a demon; or you can fall at His feet and call Him Lord and God. But let us not come with any patronising nonsense about His being a great human teacher. He has not left that open to us. He did not intend to.”
Darling I don't know why I go to extremes
Too high or too low there ain't no in-betweens
And if I stand or I fall
It's all or nothing at all
Darling I don't know why I go to extremes
And as we begin this Holy Week of extremes, Mr Joel leaves us with these words of reminder and comfort:
You can be sure when I'm gone
I won't be out there too long
Darling I don't know why I go to extremes
Friday, March 14, 2008
Trouble!
Trouble!
by Meredith Willson
Mass-steria!
Friends, the idle brain is the devil's playground!
– “Professor” Harold Hill in The Music Man
That’s “Professor” with a capital “P” and that stands for “Pi”! Happy “Pi Day”, everybody! It’s another Fun-Time Friday and it’s also March 14 or “3.14”, if you will, so some smart folks call it “Pi Day”. Of course, I instantly thought too much about it, and wondered if we should celebrate officially at 3:37am (that is, at 0.15926535898 of the way through the day, beings as how Pi begins 3.1415926535898). And then, I thought that maybe we should have celebrated on March 4 at 6:56am (at 0.1415926535898 of the way through the third month). But then, there’s that whole base 10/base 12 problem . . . and fortunately at this point, Chester knocked a glass of water off the coffee table with his tail, thereby breaking my reverie. Lucky for you! So it really is true: one man's "trouble" is another's good fortune.
So let’s get moving with one of my all-time favorite musicals, Meredith Willson’s The Music Man. Mr Willson calls it his “Valentine” to his growing-up years in Mason City, Iowa. Set in the mythical “River City” in 1912, The Music Man tells the story of the transformative power of dreams and the triumph of love. Professional con man “Harold Hill” arrives in River City ready to sell them a bill of goods. He’s not sure which scheme to use until he meets his old friend Marcellus Washburn. Marcellus has fallen in love with a local girl and has settled down in River City. He tells Harold about a new Pool Hall about to open, and Harold now knows the “evil” for which he needs to offer the cure.
At a town meeting, Harold Hill (now calling himself a music “Professor”, offering band instruments, and selling “The Think System”) tells the crowd, “Either you're closing your eyes to a situation you do not wish to acknowledge, or you are not aware of the caliber of disaster indicated by the presence of a pool table in your community.” He thus begins one of the most famous “patter songs” of all time. And note to all Rap star wannabes: Pay attention. You might learn something.
Well, ya got trouble, my friend, right here,
I say, trouble right here in River City.
Why sure I'm a billiard player,
Certainly mighty proud, I say
I'm always mighty proud to say it.
I consider that the hours I spend
With a cue in my hand are golden.
Help you cultivate horse sense
And a cool head and a keen eye.
Y’ever take and try to give
An iron-clad leave to yourself
From a three-rail billiard shot?
But just as I say,
It takes judgment, brains, and maturity to score
In a balkline game,
I say that any boob can take
And shove a ball in a pocket.
And they call that sloth.
The first big step on the road
To the depths of deg-ra-day-
I say, first, medicinal wine from a teaspoon,
Then, beer from a bottle . . .
Sorry, to interrupt, but we needed to catch our breath. Not so for Robert Preston, who won the role of Harold Hill precisely because he wasn’t that good of a singer. When the other men trying out for the Broadway premiere in 1957 tried their hand at Trouble!, they had too much melodic sense (Trouble! had actually started out as dialogue and the producers thought that Harold needed to have a song at that point). Meredith Willson heard Mr Preston’s audition – where he seemingly effortlessly “talked” his way through the song – and instantly knew he had found Professor Harold Hill. And so had we all. Mr Preston took home the Tony Award that year for Best Actor in a Musical. The show won six Tony Awards, including Best Musical and Best Actress (for Barbara Cook). When Hollywood brought The Music Man to the silver screen in 1962, Morton DaCosta (the director of the Broadway production) also directed the film. He stayed very faithful to the original stage production and also brought Mr Preston and most of the cast with him, including Pert Kelton (Mrs Paroo) and the Buffalo Bills barbershop quartet. Two new additions were Shirley Jones as Marian Paroo and a new child actor, Ronnie Howard, as Marian’s brother, Winthrop. Studio head Jack Warner had wanted either Frank Sinatra or Cary Grant to play Harold Hill, but Mr Willson prevailed, thereby raising Hollywood’s awareness of Mr Preston and capturing his performance on film for all of us. And speaking of Warner and Sinatra, when we left off we were talking about “beer from a bottle”:
An’ the next thing ya know,
Your son is playin’ for money
In a pinch-back suit.
And list’nin’ to some big out-a-town Jasper
Hearin’ him tell about horse-race gamblin’.
Not a wholesome trottin’ race, no!
But a race where they sit down right on the horse!
Like to see some stuck-up jockey boy
Sittin’ on Dan Patch? Make your blood boil?
Well, I should say.
Now, friends, lemme tell you what I mean.
Ya got one, two, three, four, five, six pockets in a table.
Pockets that mark the diff’rence
Between a gentleman and a bum,
With a capital “B,”
And that rhymes with “P” and that stands for pool!
I saw Susan Stroman’s 2000 revival of The Music Man on Broadway. Lovely Rebecca Luker played Marian Paroo opposite Craig Bierko’s Harold Hill. For the curtain calls, Ms Stroman gave every member of the cast a trombone and dressed them in a marching band outfit. They all played Seventy-Six Trombones, with varying degrees of success. It was lot of fun! I also learned, when researching today’s song, that the Olds musical instrument company produced all the instruments for the film version of show. After filming, Olds refurbished the instruments and sold them to the public, without mentioning that they had been in the show. I think they frittered away a huge marketing opportunity: I know I would have paid extra to have one of those instruments. And speaking of “frittering”:
And all week long your River City
Youth'll be fritterin’ away,
I say your young men'll be fritterin’!
Fritterin’ away their noontime, suppertime, choretime too!
Get the ball in the pocket,
Never mind gittin' dandelions pulled
Or the screen door patched or the beefsteak pounded.
And never mind pumpin' any water
'Til your parents are caught with the cistern empty
On a Saturday night and that's trouble,
Oh, yes we got lots and lots a' trouble.
I'm thinkin' of the kids in the knickerbockers,
Shirt-tail young ones, peekin' in the poolhall
Window after school, look, folks! Trouble!
Right here in River City.
Trouble with a capital "T"
And that rhymes with "P" and that stands for pool!
How times change. When I was a teenager, our church’s youth lounge had a pool table. I wonder what the good people of River City would have thought. And who knows if maybe they weren’t right. Sometimes, it’s hard to know where that slope becomes too slippery. That’s the funny thing about the point of no return: you don’t know you’re there until you’ve reached it. Rudolph Giuliani, when he was Mayor of New York, made it a policy that graffiti was to be cleaned off subway trains and broken windows repaired nightly. He believed that an atmosphere of vandalism and disrepair fostered more of the same. The book of Proverbs seems to agree: it includes this one proverb in two different places –
A little sleep, a little slumber,
a little folding of the hands to rest –
and poverty will come on you like a bandit
and scarcity like an armed man.
– Proverbs 6:10-11 and also Proverbs 24:33-34
Harold Hill is certainly in agreement, as the crowd is now fully with him:
Now, I know all you folks are the right kinda parents.
I'm gonna be perfectly frank.
Would ya like to know what kinda conversation goes on
While they're loafin' around that Hall?
They'll be tryin' out Bevo, tryin' out Cubebs,
Tryin' out Tailor-Mades like a cigarette fiend!
And braggin' all about
How they're gonna cover up a tell-tale breath with Sen-Sen.
One fine night, they leave the pool hall,
Headin' for the dance at the Armory!
Libertine men and scarlet women,
And Ragtime! Shameless music
That'll grab your son and your daughter
With the arms of a jungle animal instinct!
Mass-steria!
Friends, the idle brain is the devil's playground!
Of course, Harold has unknowingly put himself at odds with Mayor Shinn, the owner of the Pool Hall. Harold doesn’t help his case when he also unknowingly matches up the Mayor’s daughter Zaneeta with local “ruffian” Tommy Djilas, who he has enlisted to be the leader of the boys’ band. But 1912 proves to be a “summer of love” for River City, as lifelong adversaries on the School Board blend their four couldn’t-be-more-different voices into a Barbershop Quartet; as the nosy, pick-a-little-talk-a-little ladies of the town welcome the outcast librarian, Miss Marian, into their artistic endeavors; as shy, lisping Winthrop begins to verbalize his joy at receiving a trumpet to play in the band; as the townspeople begin to lose some of their “Iowa stubbornness” and part with hard earned money for the band instruments.
Marian isn’t at first convinced of the Professor’s good intentions, and by the next verse of Trouble!, she and the Mayor are the only two people in the meeting not under the Professor’s spell, as everyone else sings:
Trouble, oh we got trouble,
Right here in River City!
With a capital "T"
And that rhymes with "P"
And that stands for Pool,
That stands for pool.
We've surely got trouble!
Right here in River City,
Right here!
Gotta figure out a way
To keep the young ones moral after school!
Our children’s children gonna have
Trouble, trouble, trouble, trouble . . .
As the townspeople keep the chant of “Trouble” going, Harold exhorts them further:
Mothers of River City!
Heed the warning before it's too late!
Watch for the tell-tale signs of corruption!
The moment your son leaves the house, does he rebuckle his knickerbockers below the knee?
Is there a nicotine stain on his index finger?
A dime novel hidden in the corn crib?
Is he starting to memorize jokes from Captain Billy's Whiz Bang?
Are certain words creeping into his conversation?
Words like “swell?”
And “so's your old man?”
Well, if so my friends . . .
And then everyone (minus the Mayor and Marian) joins in:
Ya got trouble,
Right here in River city!
With a capital "T"
And that rhymes with "P"
And that stands for Pool.
We've surely got trouble!
Right here in River City!
Remember the Maine, Plymouth Rock and the Golden Rule!
Oh, we've got trouble.
We're in terrible, terrible trouble.
That game with the fifteen numbered balls is a devil's tool!
Oh yes we got trouble, trouble, trouble!
We got trouble, here, we got big, big trouble!
With a "T"! Gotta rhyme it with "P"!
And that stands for Pool!
It’s all great fun. Of course, in the real world, it’s not always that simple. As George Carlin explains relativity, “Everyone driving slower than you is an idiot. Everyone driving faster than you is a maniac.” Where do we draw the line? We’re given this warning, and accompanying bit of guidance, in 1 Peter 5:8-9 –
Be alert and of sober mind. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour. Resist him, standing firm in the faith, because you know that your fellow believers throughout the world are undergoing the same kind of sufferings.
And immediately before, in verse 7, St Peter offers these words of encouragement:
Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you.
In Marian Paroo’s case, true love carries the day. The flames of love are fanned when she sees Winthrop’s transformation upon receiving his trumpet off the Wells Fargo Wagon. When the townspeople turn against Harold after a jealous anvil salesman (and competitor of Harold's) tells them the real story, Marian emphatically reminds them of how their lives have been transformed by the dreams that Harold has sparked in them. Of course, the transformation isn’t fully realized until the “band” marches in under the director of Tommy Djilas. They are outfitted in their uniforms and holding their instruments. Marian – believing more in Harold than he does in himself – breaks off a classroom pointer and gives it to him as a conductor's baton. He summons up all the courage he has to tell the band, “Now, think, men. Think!” Some say love is blind. In this case, it is tone deaf. The band begins honking out the Minuet in G . . . and it is the most beautiful thing their parents have ever heard!
I have heard this phrase before and I think it is lovely: Harold experiences “unanticipated redemption.” And as we prepare for Easter next week, aren’t we all singing the same tune?
by Meredith Willson
Mass-steria!
Friends, the idle brain is the devil's playground!
– “Professor” Harold Hill in The Music Man
That’s “Professor” with a capital “P” and that stands for “Pi”! Happy “Pi Day”, everybody! It’s another Fun-Time Friday and it’s also March 14 or “3.14”, if you will, so some smart folks call it “Pi Day”. Of course, I instantly thought too much about it, and wondered if we should celebrate officially at 3:37am (that is, at 0.15926535898 of the way through the day, beings as how Pi begins 3.1415926535898). And then, I thought that maybe we should have celebrated on March 4 at 6:56am (at 0.1415926535898 of the way through the third month). But then, there’s that whole base 10/base 12 problem . . . and fortunately at this point, Chester knocked a glass of water off the coffee table with his tail, thereby breaking my reverie. Lucky for you! So it really is true: one man's "trouble" is another's good fortune.
So let’s get moving with one of my all-time favorite musicals, Meredith Willson’s The Music Man. Mr Willson calls it his “Valentine” to his growing-up years in Mason City, Iowa. Set in the mythical “River City” in 1912, The Music Man tells the story of the transformative power of dreams and the triumph of love. Professional con man “Harold Hill” arrives in River City ready to sell them a bill of goods. He’s not sure which scheme to use until he meets his old friend Marcellus Washburn. Marcellus has fallen in love with a local girl and has settled down in River City. He tells Harold about a new Pool Hall about to open, and Harold now knows the “evil” for which he needs to offer the cure.
At a town meeting, Harold Hill (now calling himself a music “Professor”, offering band instruments, and selling “The Think System”) tells the crowd, “Either you're closing your eyes to a situation you do not wish to acknowledge, or you are not aware of the caliber of disaster indicated by the presence of a pool table in your community.” He thus begins one of the most famous “patter songs” of all time. And note to all Rap star wannabes: Pay attention. You might learn something.
Well, ya got trouble, my friend, right here,
I say, trouble right here in River City.
Why sure I'm a billiard player,
Certainly mighty proud, I say
I'm always mighty proud to say it.
I consider that the hours I spend
With a cue in my hand are golden.
Help you cultivate horse sense
And a cool head and a keen eye.
Y’ever take and try to give
An iron-clad leave to yourself
From a three-rail billiard shot?
But just as I say,
It takes judgment, brains, and maturity to score
In a balkline game,
I say that any boob can take
And shove a ball in a pocket.
And they call that sloth.
The first big step on the road
To the depths of deg-ra-day-
I say, first, medicinal wine from a teaspoon,
Then, beer from a bottle . . .
Sorry, to interrupt, but we needed to catch our breath. Not so for Robert Preston, who won the role of Harold Hill precisely because he wasn’t that good of a singer. When the other men trying out for the Broadway premiere in 1957 tried their hand at Trouble!, they had too much melodic sense (Trouble! had actually started out as dialogue and the producers thought that Harold needed to have a song at that point). Meredith Willson heard Mr Preston’s audition – where he seemingly effortlessly “talked” his way through the song – and instantly knew he had found Professor Harold Hill. And so had we all. Mr Preston took home the Tony Award that year for Best Actor in a Musical. The show won six Tony Awards, including Best Musical and Best Actress (for Barbara Cook). When Hollywood brought The Music Man to the silver screen in 1962, Morton DaCosta (the director of the Broadway production) also directed the film. He stayed very faithful to the original stage production and also brought Mr Preston and most of the cast with him, including Pert Kelton (Mrs Paroo) and the Buffalo Bills barbershop quartet. Two new additions were Shirley Jones as Marian Paroo and a new child actor, Ronnie Howard, as Marian’s brother, Winthrop. Studio head Jack Warner had wanted either Frank Sinatra or Cary Grant to play Harold Hill, but Mr Willson prevailed, thereby raising Hollywood’s awareness of Mr Preston and capturing his performance on film for all of us. And speaking of Warner and Sinatra, when we left off we were talking about “beer from a bottle”:
An’ the next thing ya know,
Your son is playin’ for money
In a pinch-back suit.
And list’nin’ to some big out-a-town Jasper
Hearin’ him tell about horse-race gamblin’.
Not a wholesome trottin’ race, no!
But a race where they sit down right on the horse!
Like to see some stuck-up jockey boy
Sittin’ on Dan Patch? Make your blood boil?
Well, I should say.
Now, friends, lemme tell you what I mean.
Ya got one, two, three, four, five, six pockets in a table.
Pockets that mark the diff’rence
Between a gentleman and a bum,
With a capital “B,”
And that rhymes with “P” and that stands for pool!
I saw Susan Stroman’s 2000 revival of The Music Man on Broadway. Lovely Rebecca Luker played Marian Paroo opposite Craig Bierko’s Harold Hill. For the curtain calls, Ms Stroman gave every member of the cast a trombone and dressed them in a marching band outfit. They all played Seventy-Six Trombones, with varying degrees of success. It was lot of fun! I also learned, when researching today’s song, that the Olds musical instrument company produced all the instruments for the film version of show. After filming, Olds refurbished the instruments and sold them to the public, without mentioning that they had been in the show. I think they frittered away a huge marketing opportunity: I know I would have paid extra to have one of those instruments. And speaking of “frittering”:
And all week long your River City
Youth'll be fritterin’ away,
I say your young men'll be fritterin’!
Fritterin’ away their noontime, suppertime, choretime too!
Get the ball in the pocket,
Never mind gittin' dandelions pulled
Or the screen door patched or the beefsteak pounded.
And never mind pumpin' any water
'Til your parents are caught with the cistern empty
On a Saturday night and that's trouble,
Oh, yes we got lots and lots a' trouble.
I'm thinkin' of the kids in the knickerbockers,
Shirt-tail young ones, peekin' in the poolhall
Window after school, look, folks! Trouble!
Right here in River City.
Trouble with a capital "T"
And that rhymes with "P" and that stands for pool!
How times change. When I was a teenager, our church’s youth lounge had a pool table. I wonder what the good people of River City would have thought. And who knows if maybe they weren’t right. Sometimes, it’s hard to know where that slope becomes too slippery. That’s the funny thing about the point of no return: you don’t know you’re there until you’ve reached it. Rudolph Giuliani, when he was Mayor of New York, made it a policy that graffiti was to be cleaned off subway trains and broken windows repaired nightly. He believed that an atmosphere of vandalism and disrepair fostered more of the same. The book of Proverbs seems to agree: it includes this one proverb in two different places –
A little sleep, a little slumber,
a little folding of the hands to rest –
and poverty will come on you like a bandit
and scarcity like an armed man.
– Proverbs 6:10-11 and also Proverbs 24:33-34
Harold Hill is certainly in agreement, as the crowd is now fully with him:
Now, I know all you folks are the right kinda parents.
I'm gonna be perfectly frank.
Would ya like to know what kinda conversation goes on
While they're loafin' around that Hall?
They'll be tryin' out Bevo, tryin' out Cubebs,
Tryin' out Tailor-Mades like a cigarette fiend!
And braggin' all about
How they're gonna cover up a tell-tale breath with Sen-Sen.
One fine night, they leave the pool hall,
Headin' for the dance at the Armory!
Libertine men and scarlet women,
And Ragtime! Shameless music
That'll grab your son and your daughter
With the arms of a jungle animal instinct!
Mass-steria!
Friends, the idle brain is the devil's playground!
Of course, Harold has unknowingly put himself at odds with Mayor Shinn, the owner of the Pool Hall. Harold doesn’t help his case when he also unknowingly matches up the Mayor’s daughter Zaneeta with local “ruffian” Tommy Djilas, who he has enlisted to be the leader of the boys’ band. But 1912 proves to be a “summer of love” for River City, as lifelong adversaries on the School Board blend their four couldn’t-be-more-different voices into a Barbershop Quartet; as the nosy, pick-a-little-talk-a-little ladies of the town welcome the outcast librarian, Miss Marian, into their artistic endeavors; as shy, lisping Winthrop begins to verbalize his joy at receiving a trumpet to play in the band; as the townspeople begin to lose some of their “Iowa stubbornness” and part with hard earned money for the band instruments.
Marian isn’t at first convinced of the Professor’s good intentions, and by the next verse of Trouble!, she and the Mayor are the only two people in the meeting not under the Professor’s spell, as everyone else sings:
Trouble, oh we got trouble,
Right here in River City!
With a capital "T"
And that rhymes with "P"
And that stands for Pool,
That stands for pool.
We've surely got trouble!
Right here in River City,
Right here!
Gotta figure out a way
To keep the young ones moral after school!
Our children’s children gonna have
Trouble, trouble, trouble, trouble . . .
As the townspeople keep the chant of “Trouble” going, Harold exhorts them further:
Mothers of River City!
Heed the warning before it's too late!
Watch for the tell-tale signs of corruption!
The moment your son leaves the house, does he rebuckle his knickerbockers below the knee?
Is there a nicotine stain on his index finger?
A dime novel hidden in the corn crib?
Is he starting to memorize jokes from Captain Billy's Whiz Bang?
Are certain words creeping into his conversation?
Words like “swell?”
And “so's your old man?”
Well, if so my friends . . .
And then everyone (minus the Mayor and Marian) joins in:
Ya got trouble,
Right here in River city!
With a capital "T"
And that rhymes with "P"
And that stands for Pool.
We've surely got trouble!
Right here in River City!
Remember the Maine, Plymouth Rock and the Golden Rule!
Oh, we've got trouble.
We're in terrible, terrible trouble.
That game with the fifteen numbered balls is a devil's tool!
Oh yes we got trouble, trouble, trouble!
We got trouble, here, we got big, big trouble!
With a "T"! Gotta rhyme it with "P"!
And that stands for Pool!
It’s all great fun. Of course, in the real world, it’s not always that simple. As George Carlin explains relativity, “Everyone driving slower than you is an idiot. Everyone driving faster than you is a maniac.” Where do we draw the line? We’re given this warning, and accompanying bit of guidance, in 1 Peter 5:8-9 –
Be alert and of sober mind. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour. Resist him, standing firm in the faith, because you know that your fellow believers throughout the world are undergoing the same kind of sufferings.
And immediately before, in verse 7, St Peter offers these words of encouragement:
Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you.
In Marian Paroo’s case, true love carries the day. The flames of love are fanned when she sees Winthrop’s transformation upon receiving his trumpet off the Wells Fargo Wagon. When the townspeople turn against Harold after a jealous anvil salesman (and competitor of Harold's) tells them the real story, Marian emphatically reminds them of how their lives have been transformed by the dreams that Harold has sparked in them. Of course, the transformation isn’t fully realized until the “band” marches in under the director of Tommy Djilas. They are outfitted in their uniforms and holding their instruments. Marian – believing more in Harold than he does in himself – breaks off a classroom pointer and gives it to him as a conductor's baton. He summons up all the courage he has to tell the band, “Now, think, men. Think!” Some say love is blind. In this case, it is tone deaf. The band begins honking out the Minuet in G . . . and it is the most beautiful thing their parents have ever heard!
I have heard this phrase before and I think it is lovely: Harold experiences “unanticipated redemption.” And as we prepare for Easter next week, aren’t we all singing the same tune?
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Eighteen Wheels and a Dozen Roses
Eighteen Wheels and a Dozen Roses
by Paul Nelson and Gene Nelson
After Fuelgrip’s song pick yesterday, I thought it would be nice to focus on a story about a trucker and his wife that has a happy ending. The flip side of the coin to Papa Loved Mama is Kathy Mattea’s Eighteen Wheels and a Dozen Roses. Here’s how it starts:
Charlie's got a gold watch
Don't seem like a whole lot
After thirty years of drivin'
Up and down the interstate
But Charlie's had a good life
And Charlie's got a good wife
And after tonight she'll no longer
Be countin' the days
And by the chorus, we know that Charlie is deeply in love, after all these years:
Eighteen wheels and a dozen roses
Ten more miles on his four day run
A few more songs from the all night radio
Then he'll spend the rest of his life
With the one that he loves
The thing I really like about the chorus (besides the sentiment, of course) is how it utilizes all sorts of numbers – both definite and indeterminate – to make its point. Each phrase contains a numeric reference, for example:
Eighteen
A dozen
Ten
Four
A few
All
The rest
One
It reminds me of those times in the book of Proverbs where the writer begins a list with a number, then tweaks it up one. Here is Proverbs 6:16:
There are six things the Lord hates,
seven that are detestable to him:
haughty eyes,
a lying tongue,
hands that shed innocent blood,
a heart that devises wicked schemes,
feet that are quick to rush into evil,
a false witness who pours out lies
and a person who stirs up dissension in the community.
- Proverbs 6:16-19
Then, in chapter 30, the writer puts a whole string of lists in. For example, here is 30:29-31:
There are three things that are stately in their stride,
four that move with stately bearing:
a lion, mighty among beasts,
who retreats before nothing;
a strutting rooster, a he-goat,
and a king secure against revolt.
- Proverbs 30:29-31
Before Ms Mattea’s song, the only numeric connection I made with 18-wheelers was “3-2” and “6 point”. For those of you too young to remember Smokey and the Bandit, believe it or not, there was a time when the different brands of beer were only available in certain locales. More amazingly, people would actually go to a lot of trouble to move them around the country. It was almost like osmosis: beer would move from an area of higher concentration to a lower one. Back when my wife and I were dating, her friends in North Carolina would always ask me to bring Coors when I came for a visit. In exchange, I would take home Stroh’s – and now I can’t figure why on earth we went to all that trouble!
Luckily for the story, Charlie and his wife have more important things to do as they reach their golden years:
They'll buy a Winnebago
Set out to find America
They'll do a lot of catchin' up
A little at a time
With pieces of the old dream
They're gonna light the old flame
Doin' what they please
Leavin' every other reason behind
And from Proverbs again:
Gray hair is a crown of splendor;
it is attained in the way of righteousness.
- Proverbs 16:31
The glory of young men is their strength,
gray hair the splendor of the old.
- Proverbs 20:29
All through the Bible, we are told of people who did some amazing things in their old age. For example, “Moses was a hundred and twenty years old when he died, yet his eyes were not weak nor his strength gone. (Deuteronomy 34:7)” Caleb told the crowd, “I am still as strong today as the day Moses sent me out; I'm just as vigorous to go out to battle now as I was then. (Joshua 14:11)”
Luke’s Gospel (in 2:36-38) tells us of “a prophet, Anna, the daughter of Phanuel, of the tribe of Asher. She was very old; she had lived with her husband seven years after her marriage, and then had been a widow for eighty-four years. She never left the temple but worshiped night and day, fasting and praying. Coming up to them at that very moment, she gave thanks to God and spoke about the child to all who were looking forward to the redemption of Jerusalem.”
In Saving Private Ryan, Captain John Miller and his batallion have risked it all to find Private James Ryan. Ryan’s other three brothers were all killed in battles and the heads of command dispatch Captain Miller’s team to bring him home safely to his mother and family. In the midst of the last battle, when it is clear that Private Ryan is going to make it, even as most of his fellow soldiers will die, Captain Miller whispers something to him. Private Ryan leans in closer and asks, “What, sir?” Captain Miller replies, “James, earn this . . . earn it.”
In the film’s final scene, a now much older James Ryan and his wife are visiting Normandy and Omaha Beach. He finds the grave of his old friend and kneels, weeping. As his wife comes to his side, James requests of her, “Tell me I have led a good life.” She asks him, “What?” He says, “Tell me I'm a good man.” To which she replies, “You are.”
I am so thankful that our church is finding more and more chances to bring the generations together. This year, a couple of men in their seventies and eighties were mentors to a group of confirmands. A group of older women prepare lovely items for the new mothers in the congregation and present them when the babies are baptized. It is so encouraging to see people viewing their “retirement” as an opportunity for service.
May the Lord give them strength in their endeavors. They are good men and women, and the work of their golden years is good, too. And may He also shine on their “rest and relaxation.”
Eighteen wheels and a dozen roses
Ten more miles on his four day run
A few more songs from the all night radio
Then he'll spend the rest of his life
With the one that he loves.
by Paul Nelson and Gene Nelson
After Fuelgrip’s song pick yesterday, I thought it would be nice to focus on a story about a trucker and his wife that has a happy ending. The flip side of the coin to Papa Loved Mama is Kathy Mattea’s Eighteen Wheels and a Dozen Roses. Here’s how it starts:
Charlie's got a gold watch
Don't seem like a whole lot
After thirty years of drivin'
Up and down the interstate
But Charlie's had a good life
And Charlie's got a good wife
And after tonight she'll no longer
Be countin' the days
And by the chorus, we know that Charlie is deeply in love, after all these years:
Eighteen wheels and a dozen roses
Ten more miles on his four day run
A few more songs from the all night radio
Then he'll spend the rest of his life
With the one that he loves
The thing I really like about the chorus (besides the sentiment, of course) is how it utilizes all sorts of numbers – both definite and indeterminate – to make its point. Each phrase contains a numeric reference, for example:
Eighteen
A dozen
Ten
Four
A few
All
The rest
One
It reminds me of those times in the book of Proverbs where the writer begins a list with a number, then tweaks it up one. Here is Proverbs 6:16:
There are six things the Lord hates,
seven that are detestable to him:
haughty eyes,
a lying tongue,
hands that shed innocent blood,
a heart that devises wicked schemes,
feet that are quick to rush into evil,
a false witness who pours out lies
and a person who stirs up dissension in the community.
- Proverbs 6:16-19
Then, in chapter 30, the writer puts a whole string of lists in. For example, here is 30:29-31:
There are three things that are stately in their stride,
four that move with stately bearing:
a lion, mighty among beasts,
who retreats before nothing;
a strutting rooster, a he-goat,
and a king secure against revolt.
- Proverbs 30:29-31
Before Ms Mattea’s song, the only numeric connection I made with 18-wheelers was “3-2” and “6 point”. For those of you too young to remember Smokey and the Bandit, believe it or not, there was a time when the different brands of beer were only available in certain locales. More amazingly, people would actually go to a lot of trouble to move them around the country. It was almost like osmosis: beer would move from an area of higher concentration to a lower one. Back when my wife and I were dating, her friends in North Carolina would always ask me to bring Coors when I came for a visit. In exchange, I would take home Stroh’s – and now I can’t figure why on earth we went to all that trouble!
Luckily for the story, Charlie and his wife have more important things to do as they reach their golden years:
They'll buy a Winnebago
Set out to find America
They'll do a lot of catchin' up
A little at a time
With pieces of the old dream
They're gonna light the old flame
Doin' what they please
Leavin' every other reason behind
And from Proverbs again:
Gray hair is a crown of splendor;
it is attained in the way of righteousness.
- Proverbs 16:31
The glory of young men is their strength,
gray hair the splendor of the old.
- Proverbs 20:29
All through the Bible, we are told of people who did some amazing things in their old age. For example, “Moses was a hundred and twenty years old when he died, yet his eyes were not weak nor his strength gone. (Deuteronomy 34:7)” Caleb told the crowd, “I am still as strong today as the day Moses sent me out; I'm just as vigorous to go out to battle now as I was then. (Joshua 14:11)”
Luke’s Gospel (in 2:36-38) tells us of “a prophet, Anna, the daughter of Phanuel, of the tribe of Asher. She was very old; she had lived with her husband seven years after her marriage, and then had been a widow for eighty-four years. She never left the temple but worshiped night and day, fasting and praying. Coming up to them at that very moment, she gave thanks to God and spoke about the child to all who were looking forward to the redemption of Jerusalem.”
In Saving Private Ryan, Captain John Miller and his batallion have risked it all to find Private James Ryan. Ryan’s other three brothers were all killed in battles and the heads of command dispatch Captain Miller’s team to bring him home safely to his mother and family. In the midst of the last battle, when it is clear that Private Ryan is going to make it, even as most of his fellow soldiers will die, Captain Miller whispers something to him. Private Ryan leans in closer and asks, “What, sir?” Captain Miller replies, “James, earn this . . . earn it.”
In the film’s final scene, a now much older James Ryan and his wife are visiting Normandy and Omaha Beach. He finds the grave of his old friend and kneels, weeping. As his wife comes to his side, James requests of her, “Tell me I have led a good life.” She asks him, “What?” He says, “Tell me I'm a good man.” To which she replies, “You are.”
I am so thankful that our church is finding more and more chances to bring the generations together. This year, a couple of men in their seventies and eighties were mentors to a group of confirmands. A group of older women prepare lovely items for the new mothers in the congregation and present them when the babies are baptized. It is so encouraging to see people viewing their “retirement” as an opportunity for service.
May the Lord give them strength in their endeavors. They are good men and women, and the work of their golden years is good, too. And may He also shine on their “rest and relaxation.”
Eighteen wheels and a dozen roses
Ten more miles on his four day run
A few more songs from the all night radio
Then he'll spend the rest of his life
With the one that he loves.
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Papa Loved Mama
Papa Loved Mama
by Garth Brooks and Kim Williams
Papa loved Mama
Mama loved men
Mama's in the graveyard
Papa's in the pen
And with haiku-like precision, Garth Brooks hauls us into a dark world of infidelity and homicide. It’s made all the more horrifying being told matter-of-factly by one of the children of the conflict. On top of that, the music of the song adds to our discomfort by being at such odds with the lyrics: it rollicks along like an 18-wheeler in tenth gear. In short, it’s the perfect song for Full of Woe Wednesday! I’m your host, Fuelgrip Skip.
I’ve always had a soft spot in my heart for Mr Brooks. He, too, is an Oklahoma boy. According to the papers, he’s set all kinds of records for album sales – Country or otherwise. And, we’re neighbors! Sort of. For those of you who have heard this story, please indulge me, but I know I’ll tell it better than my brother Fireplug does. A few years ago, Mr Brooks bought some property up by our family’s farm. The term “some property” may be slightly misleading. It was 2,800 acres: about four square miles. He promptly went about erecting an eight-foot high fence around it. That’s eight miles of fence for those of you keeping score. Think where we’d be today if we had gone long in chain link futures! Anyway, our properties adjoin each other for about 400 feet, so I guess I can technically call us next-door neighbors. But here’s the sad part: he must have spent all that money on chain link and now can’t afford a telephone – I’ve been waiting for an invitation to go fishing in one of his ponds or something and have never received a call. Oh well, every once in a while we get the benefit of a terrific fireworks show on his land.
But I digress. Speaking of fireworks, let’s get started on today’s song:
Papa drove a truck nearly all his life
You know it drove mama crazy being a trucker's wife
The part she couldn't handle was the being alone
I guess she needed more to hold than just a telephone
Papa called Mama each and every night
Just to ask her how she was and if us kids were alright
Mama would wait for that call to come in
When Daddy'd hang up she was gone again
The thing I really like about Country music is that you pretty much know the arc of the story in the first few lines. There’s usually an unexpected twist, and most likely some clever wordplay along the way, but the basic narrative line is usually set right up front. In the case of Papa Loved Mama, it adds to the suspense. I read an article where a film director (I think it was Steven Spielberg) was praising Alfred Hitchcock’s style of suspense as opposed to what passes as “suspense” today. He said, in essence, that Mr Hitchcock would let you know from the start that there was a bomb under someone’s seat, and the suspense and horror came in waiting to see if and when it was going to go off. By contrast, a lot of directors confuse “horror” with “suspense”: the bomb just goes off and it’s a grisly mess. I’ve noticed that, too. With Hitchcock’s style, you’re on the edge of your seat, even if you are looking sideways and partially covering your eyes. With the horror style or direction, you’re blown back into your seat with your hands over your face.
I think Papa Loved Mama covers both styles. It starts out rather Hitchcockian, if you’ll pardon the expression, but by the chorus, we’re moving into the other territory:
Mama was a looker
Lord, how she shined
Papa was a good'n
But the jealous kind
Papa loved Mama
Mama loved men
Mama's in the graveyard
Papa's in the pen
Boy, those last lines of the chorus tell the whole story. They’re short, packed with alliteration, and musically quite interesting. Mr Brooks builds to the end of the chorus and the melodic line climbs: “Papa loved Mama, Mama loved men . . .” As he holds the word “men” on that high tonic note, the accompaniment chops down in syncopated time. Then, on “Mama’s in the graveyard, Papa’s in the pen” – the part that sets it all out for us – it’s almost a throwaway line. And that makes it all the more memorable to me. Have you ever seen something staged by Twyla Tharp? Often, she has the dancers go through some incredibly difficult maneuvers, only to end the segment with them walking off stage flat-footed. Or maybe watch John Smoltz or Roger Clemens on the mound. Some pitchers, like Josh Beckett or Kenny Rogers, are all fired up during the inning and then keep that angry-faced, clenched-fist intensity going even after the inning is over. Smoltz and Clemens are intense while they’re pitching, but when they walk off the field, there’s a quietness there – not a calm maybe, just quiet. To me, it means “Look out: there’s a lot more to come.”
Well, we already know how the story ends, but Mr Brooks fills in the details in verse two, and there’s a lot more to come there, too:
Well, it was bound to happen and one night it did
Papa came home and it was just us kids
He had a dozen roses and a bottle of wine
If he was lookin' to surprise us, he was doin' fine
I heard him cry for Mama up and down the hall
Then I heard a bottle break against the bedroom wall
That old diesel engine made an eerie sound
When Papa fired it up and headed into town
How effective is this song in sticking in my memory? I have a diesel engine on our Excursion, and whenever I start it early on a winter morning to warm it up, I think about that “eerie sound” line. But as far as painting a lasting picture, the next four lines do the job:
Well, the picture in the paper showed the scene real well
Papa's rig was buried in the local motel
The desk clerk said he saw it all real clear
He never hit the brakes and he was shifting gears
It’s very hard to “un-see” something. Like the desk clerk or the children who are the innocent bystanders in this song, we can be blindsided by events: the bomb can go off unexpectedly. We must be persistent. The enemy seeks to sneak in deceptions subliminally, one frame at a time, with all those vain things that can charm us, like old-time theatre owners flashing “Popcorn!” on the screen. We know all too well the words of the old hymn, “prone to wander, Lord, I feel it.” But we know that Jesus is persistent in his vision with us: he stands “at the door, knocking (Revelation 3:20)” with a “love that will not let us go,” to quote another great old hymn.
I once worked with a man whose ancestors were from Hungary. He had taken up the hobby—like some men might tie fishing flies—of painting those ornate, incredibly detailed eggs you see in Eastern Europe. He told me, “You can’t work on these eggs, concentrating on their symbolism of the Risen Lord, without being changed by them.” His words came back to me as I was thinking about today’s song. You can understand the powerful hold of images and icons. The question for me becomes: am I giving the Lord sufficient time before my eyes? And maybe more importantly, what are we setting before our children?
“These commandments that I give you today are to be upon your hearts. Impress them on your children. Talk about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up. Tie them as symbols on your hands and bind them on your foreheads. Write them on the doorframes of your houses and on your gates.” – Deuteronomy 6:6-9
Where in our lives are we persistent in our vision of the Risen Lord? I believe it is imperative to have such contact and communion with Him so that we are constantly reinforcing his vision in our lives. As we impress the Lord’s great Good News on our children, as we talk about Jesus with one another, as we write his name on our gates, as we pass our faith on, he becomes our vision—the Lord of our hearts!
by Garth Brooks and Kim Williams
Papa loved Mama
Mama loved men
Mama's in the graveyard
Papa's in the pen
And with haiku-like precision, Garth Brooks hauls us into a dark world of infidelity and homicide. It’s made all the more horrifying being told matter-of-factly by one of the children of the conflict. On top of that, the music of the song adds to our discomfort by being at such odds with the lyrics: it rollicks along like an 18-wheeler in tenth gear. In short, it’s the perfect song for Full of Woe Wednesday! I’m your host, Fuelgrip Skip.
I’ve always had a soft spot in my heart for Mr Brooks. He, too, is an Oklahoma boy. According to the papers, he’s set all kinds of records for album sales – Country or otherwise. And, we’re neighbors! Sort of. For those of you who have heard this story, please indulge me, but I know I’ll tell it better than my brother Fireplug does. A few years ago, Mr Brooks bought some property up by our family’s farm. The term “some property” may be slightly misleading. It was 2,800 acres: about four square miles. He promptly went about erecting an eight-foot high fence around it. That’s eight miles of fence for those of you keeping score. Think where we’d be today if we had gone long in chain link futures! Anyway, our properties adjoin each other for about 400 feet, so I guess I can technically call us next-door neighbors. But here’s the sad part: he must have spent all that money on chain link and now can’t afford a telephone – I’ve been waiting for an invitation to go fishing in one of his ponds or something and have never received a call. Oh well, every once in a while we get the benefit of a terrific fireworks show on his land.
But I digress. Speaking of fireworks, let’s get started on today’s song:
Papa drove a truck nearly all his life
You know it drove mama crazy being a trucker's wife
The part she couldn't handle was the being alone
I guess she needed more to hold than just a telephone
Papa called Mama each and every night
Just to ask her how she was and if us kids were alright
Mama would wait for that call to come in
When Daddy'd hang up she was gone again
The thing I really like about Country music is that you pretty much know the arc of the story in the first few lines. There’s usually an unexpected twist, and most likely some clever wordplay along the way, but the basic narrative line is usually set right up front. In the case of Papa Loved Mama, it adds to the suspense. I read an article where a film director (I think it was Steven Spielberg) was praising Alfred Hitchcock’s style of suspense as opposed to what passes as “suspense” today. He said, in essence, that Mr Hitchcock would let you know from the start that there was a bomb under someone’s seat, and the suspense and horror came in waiting to see if and when it was going to go off. By contrast, a lot of directors confuse “horror” with “suspense”: the bomb just goes off and it’s a grisly mess. I’ve noticed that, too. With Hitchcock’s style, you’re on the edge of your seat, even if you are looking sideways and partially covering your eyes. With the horror style or direction, you’re blown back into your seat with your hands over your face.
I think Papa Loved Mama covers both styles. It starts out rather Hitchcockian, if you’ll pardon the expression, but by the chorus, we’re moving into the other territory:
Mama was a looker
Lord, how she shined
Papa was a good'n
But the jealous kind
Papa loved Mama
Mama loved men
Mama's in the graveyard
Papa's in the pen
Boy, those last lines of the chorus tell the whole story. They’re short, packed with alliteration, and musically quite interesting. Mr Brooks builds to the end of the chorus and the melodic line climbs: “Papa loved Mama, Mama loved men . . .” As he holds the word “men” on that high tonic note, the accompaniment chops down in syncopated time. Then, on “Mama’s in the graveyard, Papa’s in the pen” – the part that sets it all out for us – it’s almost a throwaway line. And that makes it all the more memorable to me. Have you ever seen something staged by Twyla Tharp? Often, she has the dancers go through some incredibly difficult maneuvers, only to end the segment with them walking off stage flat-footed. Or maybe watch John Smoltz or Roger Clemens on the mound. Some pitchers, like Josh Beckett or Kenny Rogers, are all fired up during the inning and then keep that angry-faced, clenched-fist intensity going even after the inning is over. Smoltz and Clemens are intense while they’re pitching, but when they walk off the field, there’s a quietness there – not a calm maybe, just quiet. To me, it means “Look out: there’s a lot more to come.”
Well, we already know how the story ends, but Mr Brooks fills in the details in verse two, and there’s a lot more to come there, too:
Well, it was bound to happen and one night it did
Papa came home and it was just us kids
He had a dozen roses and a bottle of wine
If he was lookin' to surprise us, he was doin' fine
I heard him cry for Mama up and down the hall
Then I heard a bottle break against the bedroom wall
That old diesel engine made an eerie sound
When Papa fired it up and headed into town
How effective is this song in sticking in my memory? I have a diesel engine on our Excursion, and whenever I start it early on a winter morning to warm it up, I think about that “eerie sound” line. But as far as painting a lasting picture, the next four lines do the job:
Well, the picture in the paper showed the scene real well
Papa's rig was buried in the local motel
The desk clerk said he saw it all real clear
He never hit the brakes and he was shifting gears
It’s very hard to “un-see” something. Like the desk clerk or the children who are the innocent bystanders in this song, we can be blindsided by events: the bomb can go off unexpectedly. We must be persistent. The enemy seeks to sneak in deceptions subliminally, one frame at a time, with all those vain things that can charm us, like old-time theatre owners flashing “Popcorn!” on the screen. We know all too well the words of the old hymn, “prone to wander, Lord, I feel it.” But we know that Jesus is persistent in his vision with us: he stands “at the door, knocking (Revelation 3:20)” with a “love that will not let us go,” to quote another great old hymn.
I once worked with a man whose ancestors were from Hungary. He had taken up the hobby—like some men might tie fishing flies—of painting those ornate, incredibly detailed eggs you see in Eastern Europe. He told me, “You can’t work on these eggs, concentrating on their symbolism of the Risen Lord, without being changed by them.” His words came back to me as I was thinking about today’s song. You can understand the powerful hold of images and icons. The question for me becomes: am I giving the Lord sufficient time before my eyes? And maybe more importantly, what are we setting before our children?
“These commandments that I give you today are to be upon your hearts. Impress them on your children. Talk about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up. Tie them as symbols on your hands and bind them on your foreheads. Write them on the doorframes of your houses and on your gates.” – Deuteronomy 6:6-9
Where in our lives are we persistent in our vision of the Risen Lord? I believe it is imperative to have such contact and communion with Him so that we are constantly reinforcing his vision in our lives. As we impress the Lord’s great Good News on our children, as we talk about Jesus with one another, as we write his name on our gates, as we pass our faith on, he becomes our vision—the Lord of our hearts!
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
The Girl I Mean to Be
The Girl I Mean to Be
lyrics by Marsha Norman
music by Lucy Simon
Paradise (noun), from the Greek paradeisos (an enclosed garden) . . .
Now, before we get started today, let me say right off the bat that I’m a sucker for anything that takes place at the dawn of the Twentieth Century. So, I’m fascinated by Theodore Roosevelt’s biographies, by the whole St Louis World’s Fair Exposition of 1904, by the Wright Brothers’ endeavors, and by G K Chesteron’s Orthodoxy, to name just a few examples. The film Harry and Walter Go to New York is one of my favorites, even though most critics were not so impressed.
And then there are the musicals. A clear majority of my favorites are set in this period: Ragtime, The Music Man, Mary Poppins, and the show from whence comes today’s song, The Secret Garden.
Frances Hodgson Burnett’s novel The Secret Garden is set in 1906 and tells the story of Mary Lennox, an English girl who comes to live with her widowed uncle and cousin in Yorkshire after Mary’s family dies of cholera in India. Her uncle Archibald is a morose, hunchbacked man, still intensely grieving the death of his wife, Lily. Archibald and Lily’s son, Colin, is confined to his bed, seemingly unable to walk. In the musical, Archibald’s brother Neville is the attending physician and has ulterior motives for keeping both Archibald and Colin in their debilitated states.
Mary learns of a secret garden, a walled enclosure that has been locked since Lily’s death. With the help of the gardener and the servants, Mary brings the garden back to life. The garden’s charms work their magic on Colin, as well. When Archibald hears noises in the garden and opens the gate for the first time since Lily’s death, Mary and Colin are having a footrace amidst the beautiful spring flowers. Colin falls into his father’s arms and the dark spell is broken.
The Secret Garden opened on Broadway on April 25, 1991 and ran for 709 performances. There were also companies in Australia and London’s West End, as well as a touring company. If you pay attention to this sort of thing, the show took home three Tony Awards. Eleven-year old Daisy Eagan became the youngest actor ever to win the Leading Actress in a Musical honor. Heidi Landesman garnered the Tony for Best Set Design, combining Victorian toy elements with those elaborate collages of Joseph Cornell. Marsha Norman brought Mrs. Burnett’s novel to the stage and won the Tony for Best Book of a Musical. She also wrote the show’s lyrics, which were set to music by Lucy Simon (Carly Simon’s sister, incidentally).
The musical departs slightly from the book in that it adds what are referred to as “The Dreamers”, who function as a sort of Greek chorus. The Dreamers might also be called “ghosts”, as they are played by Lily, Mary’s parents, the servants from India – all those who have gone on before. They comment on the action and give aid and comfort to Mary, then Colin, and then Archibald. I would call them “the Communion of the Saints.”
Act I of the musical takes place in the gray and dreary Yorkshire winter, set mostly in the cold and drafty Misselthwaite Manor, the windswept Yorkshire Moors, and in flashbacks to India in the time of cholera. As Act II opens, Mary is in the middle of a vision of what can be: we are in the Garden, fully realized, on a beautiful summer day. Mary is surrounded by all her loved ones – her mother and father, her Aunt Lily, her friends from India – and all of them, including Mary, are outfitted with white dresses, white suits, white parasols. Mary sings to us what is on her heart:
I need a place where I can go,
Where I can whisper what I know,
Where I can whisper who I like
And where I go to see them.
I need a place where I can hide,
Where no one sees my life inside,
Where I can make my plans, and write them down
So I can read them.
A place where I can bid my heart be still
And it will mind me.
A place where I can go when I am lost,
And there I'll find me.
I need a place to spend the day,
Where no one says to go or stay,
Where I can take my pen and draw
The girl I mean to be.
Especially during Lent, but always really, we are invited to spend more time with the Lord. As the Lord speaks through the prophet in Isaiah 30:15, “In returning and rest is your salvation, in quietness and trust is your strength . . .” We also learn in the Gospels that Jesus spent a lot of time alone with His Father. If Jesus needed all that time apart, I don’t know why I’d think I could get by with anything less!
I also think our Jewish brothers and sisters do a great job of speaking to God more intimately. Think of how Tevye converses with the Lord in Fiddler on the Roof. All through the Old Testament and Psalms, there is an openness and candor that we would do well to recapture. In both the Jewish and Christian traditions, there is also the whole mystery of how a husband and wife “become one flesh” (Genesis 2:24, quoted by Jesus in Matthew 19:5 and Mark 10:8 and by St Paul in 1 Corinthians 6:16 and Ephesians 5:31). I hope I am not going too far afield here, but note that it does not say they “become one mind” or “become one spirit”. No matter how intimately you know your spouse, or how close you are to a friend, or how much strength we can gain through fellowship with others, there are still times when the Lord calls us to “come apart for awhile” with Him. There, you can be just who you are.
“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” – Matthew 11:28
At one point in The Secret Garden, Mary asks her uncle Archibald if the house is full of ghosts. He tells her, “They’re only a ghost as long as someone is holding on to them.” At the end of the musical, the “Dreamers” drift among the people and the flowers of the garden. As Archibald proclaims his love for his son, Colin, and his niece, Mary, the Dreamers begin to leave. The last to exit are Mary’s father and Archibald’s wife, Lily. They are no longer “ghosts” but are now part of the “Communion of the Saints”.
The book ends with these words of Mary: “The spell was broken. My uncle learned to laugh, and I learned to cry. The secret garden is always open now. Open, and awake, and alive. If you look the right way, you can see that the whole world is a garden.”
"Open, awake, and alive." That's a great goal to have in mind. As we "look the right way", and notice that "the whole world is a garden", ask the Master Gardener to help you with your own "bit of earth": the enclosed park that is your life. He can help you make something beautiful inside. And then, please remember to leave the door open.
lyrics by Marsha Norman
music by Lucy Simon
Paradise (noun), from the Greek paradeisos (an enclosed garden) . . .
Now, before we get started today, let me say right off the bat that I’m a sucker for anything that takes place at the dawn of the Twentieth Century. So, I’m fascinated by Theodore Roosevelt’s biographies, by the whole St Louis World’s Fair Exposition of 1904, by the Wright Brothers’ endeavors, and by G K Chesteron’s Orthodoxy, to name just a few examples. The film Harry and Walter Go to New York is one of my favorites, even though most critics were not so impressed.
And then there are the musicals. A clear majority of my favorites are set in this period: Ragtime, The Music Man, Mary Poppins, and the show from whence comes today’s song, The Secret Garden.
Frances Hodgson Burnett’s novel The Secret Garden is set in 1906 and tells the story of Mary Lennox, an English girl who comes to live with her widowed uncle and cousin in Yorkshire after Mary’s family dies of cholera in India. Her uncle Archibald is a morose, hunchbacked man, still intensely grieving the death of his wife, Lily. Archibald and Lily’s son, Colin, is confined to his bed, seemingly unable to walk. In the musical, Archibald’s brother Neville is the attending physician and has ulterior motives for keeping both Archibald and Colin in their debilitated states.
Mary learns of a secret garden, a walled enclosure that has been locked since Lily’s death. With the help of the gardener and the servants, Mary brings the garden back to life. The garden’s charms work their magic on Colin, as well. When Archibald hears noises in the garden and opens the gate for the first time since Lily’s death, Mary and Colin are having a footrace amidst the beautiful spring flowers. Colin falls into his father’s arms and the dark spell is broken.
The Secret Garden opened on Broadway on April 25, 1991 and ran for 709 performances. There were also companies in Australia and London’s West End, as well as a touring company. If you pay attention to this sort of thing, the show took home three Tony Awards. Eleven-year old Daisy Eagan became the youngest actor ever to win the Leading Actress in a Musical honor. Heidi Landesman garnered the Tony for Best Set Design, combining Victorian toy elements with those elaborate collages of Joseph Cornell. Marsha Norman brought Mrs. Burnett’s novel to the stage and won the Tony for Best Book of a Musical. She also wrote the show’s lyrics, which were set to music by Lucy Simon (Carly Simon’s sister, incidentally).
The musical departs slightly from the book in that it adds what are referred to as “The Dreamers”, who function as a sort of Greek chorus. The Dreamers might also be called “ghosts”, as they are played by Lily, Mary’s parents, the servants from India – all those who have gone on before. They comment on the action and give aid and comfort to Mary, then Colin, and then Archibald. I would call them “the Communion of the Saints.”
Act I of the musical takes place in the gray and dreary Yorkshire winter, set mostly in the cold and drafty Misselthwaite Manor, the windswept Yorkshire Moors, and in flashbacks to India in the time of cholera. As Act II opens, Mary is in the middle of a vision of what can be: we are in the Garden, fully realized, on a beautiful summer day. Mary is surrounded by all her loved ones – her mother and father, her Aunt Lily, her friends from India – and all of them, including Mary, are outfitted with white dresses, white suits, white parasols. Mary sings to us what is on her heart:
I need a place where I can go,
Where I can whisper what I know,
Where I can whisper who I like
And where I go to see them.
I need a place where I can hide,
Where no one sees my life inside,
Where I can make my plans, and write them down
So I can read them.
A place where I can bid my heart be still
And it will mind me.
A place where I can go when I am lost,
And there I'll find me.
I need a place to spend the day,
Where no one says to go or stay,
Where I can take my pen and draw
The girl I mean to be.
Especially during Lent, but always really, we are invited to spend more time with the Lord. As the Lord speaks through the prophet in Isaiah 30:15, “In returning and rest is your salvation, in quietness and trust is your strength . . .” We also learn in the Gospels that Jesus spent a lot of time alone with His Father. If Jesus needed all that time apart, I don’t know why I’d think I could get by with anything less!
I also think our Jewish brothers and sisters do a great job of speaking to God more intimately. Think of how Tevye converses with the Lord in Fiddler on the Roof. All through the Old Testament and Psalms, there is an openness and candor that we would do well to recapture. In both the Jewish and Christian traditions, there is also the whole mystery of how a husband and wife “become one flesh” (Genesis 2:24, quoted by Jesus in Matthew 19:5 and Mark 10:8 and by St Paul in 1 Corinthians 6:16 and Ephesians 5:31). I hope I am not going too far afield here, but note that it does not say they “become one mind” or “become one spirit”. No matter how intimately you know your spouse, or how close you are to a friend, or how much strength we can gain through fellowship with others, there are still times when the Lord calls us to “come apart for awhile” with Him. There, you can be just who you are.
“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” – Matthew 11:28
At one point in The Secret Garden, Mary asks her uncle Archibald if the house is full of ghosts. He tells her, “They’re only a ghost as long as someone is holding on to them.” At the end of the musical, the “Dreamers” drift among the people and the flowers of the garden. As Archibald proclaims his love for his son, Colin, and his niece, Mary, the Dreamers begin to leave. The last to exit are Mary’s father and Archibald’s wife, Lily. They are no longer “ghosts” but are now part of the “Communion of the Saints”.
The book ends with these words of Mary: “The spell was broken. My uncle learned to laugh, and I learned to cry. The secret garden is always open now. Open, and awake, and alive. If you look the right way, you can see that the whole world is a garden.”
"Open, awake, and alive." That's a great goal to have in mind. As we "look the right way", and notice that "the whole world is a garden", ask the Master Gardener to help you with your own "bit of earth": the enclosed park that is your life. He can help you make something beautiful inside. And then, please remember to leave the door open.
Monday, March 10, 2008
Running on Empty
Running on Empty
by Jackson Browne
I'm not a smart man . . . but I know what love is.
- Forrest Gump
This weekend, I went shopping for a treadmill. It’s for our dog. At 10 years old, Chester is susceptible (as are most Rough Collies – all big dogs, really) to hip problems. His veterinarian has suggested that we walk him on an uphill incline, thereby requiring him to use his back legs more and build up those muscles. Fortunately, our house is on a hill, and Lindsay has very faithfully taken Chester for walks, making sure that they climb the big hill every time that leads to the house.
It probably explains a lot about myself that I at first thought that the efficacy of the hill climb would be negated by the fact that there would also be an equal downhill component (we start and end at the same place, right?). And this is coming from someone who has always been a huge opponent of the “zero-sum” theory in economics, etc. As Lindsay (and the vet – yes; I called) explained, the downhill segment may work other muscles, but it doesn’t negate the benefit of the uphill walk on his hips. So “a rising hill lifts all collies”, if you will.
Once again, I was done in by thinking too much – or rather, thinking too much on the wrong things. Which brings us to Forrest Gump, by way of Jackson Browne:
Looking out at the road rushing under my wheels
I don't know how to tell you all just how crazy this life feels
I look around for the friends that I used to turn to to pull me through
Looking into their eyes I see them running too
Running on - running on empty
Running on - running blind
Running on - running into the sun
But I'm running behind
Mr Browne’s 1977 song Running on Empty was used in the 1994 film Forrest Gump. Forrest Gump was like a Rorschach Test for our generation: everyone saw in it what they wanted to see. Some folks read an anti-war message into Forrest’s military service. Others just the opposite. Here’s a sample of Forrest’s naïve discussion about Lieutenant Dan: “He was from a long great military tradition. Somebody from his family had fought and died in every single American war. I guess you could say he had a lot to live up to.”
I was taken by Forrest’s trusting nature: how he always saw the good in everyone and every situation. I also think the idea of keeping things simple is the best. And I’m glad the Lord has made the Word available to all of us, as He promises in Deuteronomy 30:11-14:
Now what I am commanding you today is not too difficult for you or beyond your reach. It is not up in heaven, so that you have to ask, "Who will ascend into heaven to get it and proclaim it to us so we may obey it?" Nor is it beyond the sea, so that you have to ask, "Who will cross the sea to get it and proclaim it to us so we may obey it?" No, the word is very near you; it is in your mouth and in your heart so you may obey it.
Do you all remember the huge running craze of a quarter century ago? I know people still run, but it seemed that, in the late 1970s and early 1980s, everyone was a jogger. When I began running in earnest, I found that the New Balance shoes worked better for me. Here’s what I learned about New Balance when I visited their website:
It started in 1906, when a 33 year-old waiter named William J. Riley decided to build arch supports that relieved the pain suffered by people who spent all day working on their feet. His design fit better, and felt better than anything else on the market, and by 1909 Riley was listed in the Boston business directory under 'shoemaker.' Nineteen years later Riley designed his first running shoe for the Boston running club known as the Boston Brown Bag Harriers. The success of this shoe spread quickly, and by 1941 New Balance was creating custom-made shoes for running, baseball, basketball, tennis and boxing.
I love it that the shoes that now win Olympic events and outfit us in our recreational pursuits started out to ease the aching feet of Boston’s policemen and waitresses. And that before the inventor became known as a “shoemaker” he was a waiter. Jackson Browne also has a list of professions on his resume. His website lists him as a singer, songwriter and anti-nuclear activist. I wonder if St Paul’s first business card listed him as “Tentmaker” before his change of profession. Or, for that matter, Jesus’ first business card for “Joseph and Sons” might have listed his occupation as “Carpenter”. We can often confuse “Occupation” with “Vocation” – maybe that’s why a lot of us keep running.
Forrest Gump was quite a runner himself, but he didn’t start out that way. On his first day of school, young Forrest, his legs in braces, tried to find a seat on the school bus, only to be refused by everyone. Then, young Jenny offered him a place next to her. From that first time he heard her voice, Forrest was in love with Jenny. Her voice helped him again, when he was being chased. As Jenny yelled, “Run, Forrest!” his leg braces began to fly off, and he beat the bike-riding bullies. Forrest tells us, “Now you wouldn't believe me if I told you, but I could run like the wind blows. From that day on, if I was ever going somewhere, I was running!”
In the film, Forrest tells us that one day, “for no particular reason, I decided to go for a little run. So I ran to the end of the road. And when I got there, I thought maybe I'd run to the end of town. And when I got there, I thought maybe I'd just run across Greenbow County. And I figured, since I run this far, maybe I'd just run across the great state of Alabama. And that's what I did. I ran clear across Alabama. For no particular reason I just kept on going. I ran clear to the ocean. And when I got there, I figured, since I'd gone this far, I might as well turn around, just keep on going. When I got to another ocean, I figured, since I'd gone this far, I might as well just turn back, keep right on going.” And Mr Browne’s music underscores the entire scene:
Everyone I know, everywhere I go
People need some reason to believe
I don't know about anyone but me
Running on - running on empty
Running on - running blind
Running on - running into the sun
But I'm running behind
For Forrest Gump, he just stopped running one day, after “3 years, 2 months, 14 days and 16 hours.” He was in the middle of Monument Valley and decided he “was pretty tired.” For others of us, our bodies are telling us that they are “pretty tired.” Every year, I know more and more people who have had their knees replaced. It’s a miraculous surgery – and a God-send to aging Baby Boomers. I’m not there yet, but I can no longer run at the speed I used to: the impact on my knees does me in. So, for the past two years, I’ve gotten on the treadmill at the health club. I keep it at a walking pace and increase the grade to 9 or 10%. That’ll get the old ticker going! Maybe Chester and I can get matching treadmills in our retirement, side by side.
For physical training is of some value, but godliness has value for all things, holding promise for both the present life and the life to come. – 1 Timothy 4:8
I think it’s only right to keep our bodies in shape – to be good stewards of what God has given us. But I wonder if I spend as much time and effort on spiritual things as I do on bodily things. And I think a lot of our running can be resolved when we know what we are running from – and when we know the One we are running to.
I'd love to stick around but I'm running behind
You know I don't even know what I'm hoping to find
Running into the sun but I'm running behind
Running on - running on empty
Running on - running blind
Running on - running into the sun
But I'm running behind
I love Forrest’s quote at top of this post. For someone the world views as pretty simple, he knows quite a lot. Here’s another exchange from the film:
Jenny: Do you ever dream, Forrest, about who you're gonna be?
Forrest: Who I'm gonna be?
Jenny: Yeah.
Forrest: Aren't – aren't I going to be me?
And I think that’s the secret. Running – everything – can change from a life-defining event to merely a life-enhancing one, when we know who we are, in Christ.
by Jackson Browne
I'm not a smart man . . . but I know what love is.
- Forrest Gump
This weekend, I went shopping for a treadmill. It’s for our dog. At 10 years old, Chester is susceptible (as are most Rough Collies – all big dogs, really) to hip problems. His veterinarian has suggested that we walk him on an uphill incline, thereby requiring him to use his back legs more and build up those muscles. Fortunately, our house is on a hill, and Lindsay has very faithfully taken Chester for walks, making sure that they climb the big hill every time that leads to the house.
It probably explains a lot about myself that I at first thought that the efficacy of the hill climb would be negated by the fact that there would also be an equal downhill component (we start and end at the same place, right?). And this is coming from someone who has always been a huge opponent of the “zero-sum” theory in economics, etc. As Lindsay (and the vet – yes; I called) explained, the downhill segment may work other muscles, but it doesn’t negate the benefit of the uphill walk on his hips. So “a rising hill lifts all collies”, if you will.
Once again, I was done in by thinking too much – or rather, thinking too much on the wrong things. Which brings us to Forrest Gump, by way of Jackson Browne:
Looking out at the road rushing under my wheels
I don't know how to tell you all just how crazy this life feels
I look around for the friends that I used to turn to to pull me through
Looking into their eyes I see them running too
Running on - running on empty
Running on - running blind
Running on - running into the sun
But I'm running behind
Mr Browne’s 1977 song Running on Empty was used in the 1994 film Forrest Gump. Forrest Gump was like a Rorschach Test for our generation: everyone saw in it what they wanted to see. Some folks read an anti-war message into Forrest’s military service. Others just the opposite. Here’s a sample of Forrest’s naïve discussion about Lieutenant Dan: “He was from a long great military tradition. Somebody from his family had fought and died in every single American war. I guess you could say he had a lot to live up to.”
I was taken by Forrest’s trusting nature: how he always saw the good in everyone and every situation. I also think the idea of keeping things simple is the best. And I’m glad the Lord has made the Word available to all of us, as He promises in Deuteronomy 30:11-14:
Now what I am commanding you today is not too difficult for you or beyond your reach. It is not up in heaven, so that you have to ask, "Who will ascend into heaven to get it and proclaim it to us so we may obey it?" Nor is it beyond the sea, so that you have to ask, "Who will cross the sea to get it and proclaim it to us so we may obey it?" No, the word is very near you; it is in your mouth and in your heart so you may obey it.
Do you all remember the huge running craze of a quarter century ago? I know people still run, but it seemed that, in the late 1970s and early 1980s, everyone was a jogger. When I began running in earnest, I found that the New Balance shoes worked better for me. Here’s what I learned about New Balance when I visited their website:
It started in 1906, when a 33 year-old waiter named William J. Riley decided to build arch supports that relieved the pain suffered by people who spent all day working on their feet. His design fit better, and felt better than anything else on the market, and by 1909 Riley was listed in the Boston business directory under 'shoemaker.' Nineteen years later Riley designed his first running shoe for the Boston running club known as the Boston Brown Bag Harriers. The success of this shoe spread quickly, and by 1941 New Balance was creating custom-made shoes for running, baseball, basketball, tennis and boxing.
I love it that the shoes that now win Olympic events and outfit us in our recreational pursuits started out to ease the aching feet of Boston’s policemen and waitresses. And that before the inventor became known as a “shoemaker” he was a waiter. Jackson Browne also has a list of professions on his resume. His website lists him as a singer, songwriter and anti-nuclear activist. I wonder if St Paul’s first business card listed him as “Tentmaker” before his change of profession. Or, for that matter, Jesus’ first business card for “Joseph and Sons” might have listed his occupation as “Carpenter”. We can often confuse “Occupation” with “Vocation” – maybe that’s why a lot of us keep running.
Forrest Gump was quite a runner himself, but he didn’t start out that way. On his first day of school, young Forrest, his legs in braces, tried to find a seat on the school bus, only to be refused by everyone. Then, young Jenny offered him a place next to her. From that first time he heard her voice, Forrest was in love with Jenny. Her voice helped him again, when he was being chased. As Jenny yelled, “Run, Forrest!” his leg braces began to fly off, and he beat the bike-riding bullies. Forrest tells us, “Now you wouldn't believe me if I told you, but I could run like the wind blows. From that day on, if I was ever going somewhere, I was running!”
In the film, Forrest tells us that one day, “for no particular reason, I decided to go for a little run. So I ran to the end of the road. And when I got there, I thought maybe I'd run to the end of town. And when I got there, I thought maybe I'd just run across Greenbow County. And I figured, since I run this far, maybe I'd just run across the great state of Alabama. And that's what I did. I ran clear across Alabama. For no particular reason I just kept on going. I ran clear to the ocean. And when I got there, I figured, since I'd gone this far, I might as well turn around, just keep on going. When I got to another ocean, I figured, since I'd gone this far, I might as well just turn back, keep right on going.” And Mr Browne’s music underscores the entire scene:
Everyone I know, everywhere I go
People need some reason to believe
I don't know about anyone but me
Running on - running on empty
Running on - running blind
Running on - running into the sun
But I'm running behind
For Forrest Gump, he just stopped running one day, after “3 years, 2 months, 14 days and 16 hours.” He was in the middle of Monument Valley and decided he “was pretty tired.” For others of us, our bodies are telling us that they are “pretty tired.” Every year, I know more and more people who have had their knees replaced. It’s a miraculous surgery – and a God-send to aging Baby Boomers. I’m not there yet, but I can no longer run at the speed I used to: the impact on my knees does me in. So, for the past two years, I’ve gotten on the treadmill at the health club. I keep it at a walking pace and increase the grade to 9 or 10%. That’ll get the old ticker going! Maybe Chester and I can get matching treadmills in our retirement, side by side.
For physical training is of some value, but godliness has value for all things, holding promise for both the present life and the life to come. – 1 Timothy 4:8
I think it’s only right to keep our bodies in shape – to be good stewards of what God has given us. But I wonder if I spend as much time and effort on spiritual things as I do on bodily things. And I think a lot of our running can be resolved when we know what we are running from – and when we know the One we are running to.
I'd love to stick around but I'm running behind
You know I don't even know what I'm hoping to find
Running into the sun but I'm running behind
Running on - running on empty
Running on - running blind
Running on - running into the sun
But I'm running behind
I love Forrest’s quote at top of this post. For someone the world views as pretty simple, he knows quite a lot. Here’s another exchange from the film:
Jenny: Do you ever dream, Forrest, about who you're gonna be?
Forrest: Who I'm gonna be?
Jenny: Yeah.
Forrest: Aren't – aren't I going to be me?
And I think that’s the secret. Running – everything – can change from a life-defining event to merely a life-enhancing one, when we know who we are, in Christ.
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