I have reached the age where the church year, like the civil year, seems to rush by. How did Pentecost get here so quickly? The usual way, of course.
The Spirit is notoriously dynamic: bringing forth life, enticing it into incredible diversity while also linking everything in levels of relatedness beyond comprehension, teeasing order out of chaor and then disrupting things again for the sake of new possibilities.
Today I am totally disrupted.
For whatever reason I have been "tender-hearted" all day long. This Memorial Day has been troubling; not that any Memorial Day is easy. It is a time we do our loving by grieving, by remembering, by acknowledging the wonders of lives lived and loss sustained... and enduring. The continuing loss of lives in an "optional" war that was based on and sold with lies, the senseless slaughter that my beloved nation has triggered - it is hard to contemplate.
So I found myself a bit teary this morning. As I drove to church an incredibly beautiful piece of music that I have never before encountered was playing. It was a blend of various styles and languages, shifting through the English choral tradition and Middle Eastern and African elements. I wept while driving, grateful for the tissues in the car.
Church, of course, if a natural and favorite place for a good cry. Joy, sorrow, and anything in between - they can all come together in that safe space where environment, music, ritual, symbol all speak in ways we do not ordinarily communicate. So there were several points in the liturgy when I was on the verge. After Communion I lost it, weeping for the dead and dying, the injured and grieving, for prisoners and refugees, for the sick, the lost, the screwed up - in short, for all of us.
I had a quiet space this afternoon, working on an icon of Guilhem of Gellone. Then I returned to my habitual reading of mostly political blogs. I had already pondered the list of the dead at one source, then came across Trudeau's annual tribute in Doonesbury. Diaries, articles, photographs, musings of varying sorts. More tears.
It might help to let my readers know that having gone through a big chunk of depression I am now rather delighted to feel my feelings. Whether I am angry or sad or anxious or frightened or excited, it is a good sign that I feel and know that I am feeling and what I am feeling. So a day of tears is a fine thing, a sign of life.
The most recent torrent this evening came from a mix of memory and horror.
Stopping at Mahablog I saw Barbara's Memorial Day posting with two snippets from the tribal rock musical "Hair" (see below).
We all have certain events in our lives that get linked to other events and emotions and thereafter act almost as "hooks" on which we can hang ideas, memories, and feelings. Popular culture plays a huge part in this. "Hair" is one of those events for me.
One needs to imagine a repressed Baptist youth who reads about exotic experiments in theatre - the kinds of things that happen on Broadway and off-Broadway and off-off-Broadway, but not usually anywhere near me. "O Calcutta" comes to mind. I had read about "Hair" when it came out in 1968, the year I graduated from college and Vietnam was a very hot topic. When "Hair" came to Hollywood I got tickets at the Aquarius Theatre and saw it. Twice. I danced on stage with the cast and authors at the end of the performance. Bought the album and the sheet music. Memorized all the songs and used to sing them in the shower at the dorm in grad school.
From the moment the cast crawled, oozed, swung, climbed, and descended from everywhere in the theatre onto a stage with no curtain, I knew I was in for a treat. Being a theatre lover, I was exhilarated by seeing all sorts of conventions stretched. Having Cubby O'Brien, former Mouseketeer, heading up the band was another nice touch. In your face, Uncle Walt!
"Hair" captured a lot of the rage and fear, questioning of authority and grappling toward alternatives, creativity and outrageousness of the time and of my generation. (Yes, children, we used to be outrageous. In that context, anyway.) Amid the refrain of "beads, flowers, freedom, happiness" lay the ever-present reality of Vietnam.
Maha brings it all back.
Let the Sunshine In
Filed under: entertainment and popular culture — maha @ 9:39 pm
I’ve been looking for an appropriate Memorial Day video. The best I could come up with are a couple of clips from the 1979 film version of Hair, which was actually pretty good even though only about 36 people went to see it in theaters.
[snip]
Here’s the last scene of the film. Berger takes Claude’s place in training camp — temporarily, he thought — so that Claude (John Savage) can go on a picnic. The rest is self-explanatory.
When the opening notes of "Flesh failures" began [text = "We starve / look at one another...."], the sum of emotions I associate with the musical all flooded in and I sang along, sobbing. The kick in the gut came with the line "Listening for the new-told lies."
The new-told lies, of course, are the same old lies simply told anew. The horror that we are re-enacting so much of the folly and falsehood of the Vietnam era washed over me.
Yesterday I heard on the radio a snippet from Cheney's speech at West Point. My normal mode upon hearing Bush or Cheney is to become instantly apoplectic, turning red in the face as I scream at the radio while changing stations. This time I was more sickened than enraged. The blatant lying to our future officers felt as though I were facing a tsunami of evil.
As we look to the future, I want to say this to the graduates, and to all the men and women of the Corps, and to the families gathered in this stadium today: Whatever lies ahead, the United States Army will have all the equipment, supplies, manpower, training, and support essential to victory. I give you this assurance on behalf of the President. You soldier for him, and he will soldier for you. (Applause.)
These, of course, are our future soldiers. They know when to applaud (or the White House web site knows when to indicate that applause happened). What I wanted was to learn that a huge chorus of "Liar!" erupted. But it did not, though one of the most egregious of bald-faced lies (in these days of mass official deception) had just come out of the Great White Satan's mouth.
The conclusion of "Hair" - as the clip shows - is a reprise of "Let the Sunshine In." Fitting. That is what this nation desperately needs: a megadose of sunshine so We the People can know the truth, so falsehoods can be revealed for what they are, so corruption can be purged, and our Constitution be restored.
As we say of the dead in the Western Christian tradition: Rest eternal grant to them, O Lord, and let light perpetual shine upon them. For those who now walk the star path, may they bask in the uncreated Light. For those of us who walk below the stars, may sunshine pour in.
My thanks to all who have served or will serve this country in our armed forces (and in all other capacities). To our troops now serving: you have love and respect, and even though the White House and far too many members of Congress have not given you the training, equipment, protection, benefits, and ongoing care that you need - not to mention leadership at the highest level and a mission and strategy worthy of your efforts - we who cry loudest for the Iraq occupation to end want you supported, cared for, and we look forward to welcoming you home.
Peace.
-The BB
