Wednesday September 24, 2008
Sacred and secular
Last Christmas, my daughter Sharon gave me a turntable with a USB connection, so that I could copy our old vinyl LPs into digital format.
If you don\’t understand what that means, don\’t fret. It merely means that in translating those old 33 rpm albums into CDs, I have re-discovered some treasures that have languished in boxes in the basement for almost 20 years.
Treasures like Harry Belafonte, The Brothers Four, Chet Atkins, Andre Previn, the Modern Jazz Quartet – artists I never hear any more, even on the Golden Oldies stations.
And, in particular, Joni Mitchell.
Poetic images
Until I got that old album out, I had thought of Joni mainly as an aural memory. A thin voice, almost childlike by comparison with Lena Horne or Jo Stafford. Uninspired guitar playing, no competition for the technical wizardry of, say, Les Paul or Django Reinhart.
But this time I looked at the lyrics (those old 12-inch album covers had space to print the words of songs!). And I was enraptured by the images she wove into her verses.
“Chelsea Morning” alone has an abundance of memorable lines:
it came ringing up like Christmas bells…
… the streets are paved with passersby…
… the sun poured in like butterscotch, and stuck to all my senses…
My first exposure to Joni Mitchell came – oh, my, so long ago. I had just started a job at the United Church\’s national offices. A fresh wind was blowing through those traditionally stuffy offices. The New Curriculum for Sunday schools was raising ire among the rigidly orthodox.
But despite the changes, there was a pervasive sense that although the church might get involved in social causes, the sacred and the secular didn\’t overlap.
Both sides now
And then a young minister named Ron Atkinson showed up with an armful of records to play for a gathering of executive staff. He tried to show us that the church was not alone; its themes and concerns were echoed in the popular world.
He played bits from Simon and Garfunkel, from the Beatles, from Joan Baez. And then he put on someone I had never heard before. Joni Mitchell\’s plaintively sweet voice came on:
from win and lose, and still somehow,
it\’s life\’s illusions I recall;
I really don\’t know life, at all.
If the words and notes of a secular song express a truth that my faith is also fumbling towards, if it can help others recognize the presence of the holy in their lives, if it can generate a sense of awe and homage to a higher power, that song belongs in church just as much as Bach and Handel do.
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Copyright © 2007 by Jim Taylor. Non-profit use in congregations and study groups permitted; all other rights reserved.
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For a lighter look at ethics, faith, and life, I recommend Ralph Milton\’s weekly e-newsletter Rumors. You can subscribe to it at the Wood Lake Books home page in Ralph Milton\’s Site, or by sending a note directly to [email protected].
It\’s also worth pursuing Charlene Fairchild\’s United Online site. Another site worth visiting is David Keating\’s \”SeemslikeGod\” page.