Went to church this morning.
That blow your mind? It should. Me and church don't get along. My background is Catholicism, an angry, vengeful, vindictive religion based on fear. Kind of turned me off. I have done a lot of reading on various religions but I have not conducted much of that research inside churches.
Truth is, I went to the Henniker Congregational Church to see my daughter-IN-LAW sing some jazz. She is the musical director. And to see and hear Delfeayo Marsalis. Delfeayo has two brothers named Wynton and Branford. If you are not familiar with them, do some research - they are jazz royalty. I have heard and been blown away by both of them. I am not pretending to be a jazz aficionado - honestly I never heard of Delfeayo before, but he performed at New England College here in town last night, and graciously agreed to sit in with the Prodigals Jazz band at today's service. A jazz service. How cool is that?
First impressions: The church. Pretty simple. Not overly ostentatious like most Catholic churches. I dug that. It ain't about the building, its about what happens inside that building. No kneelers - dug that too, and not just because of my age. I always hated kneeling in submission during church services. Is god's ego that damn big that he needs to see me on my knees to feel worshipped? I cannot dig a god who feels he has to humble me.
I was not prepared for the emotional roller coast I experienced during this celebration.
The music was first and foremost. Jazz, baby. A collection of jazz tunes and religious anthems performed joyously with the congregation singing along, clapping their hands and tapping their feet. This is what religion was meant to be. The combination is perfect in my mind; music is religion; to the people that perform it, it is a spiritual experience, to the listeners that get it, it is inspiring. I got to thinking that all churches should be jazz churches or blues churches. A soul that is liberated through music is a soul that is closer to god.
Listening to Emily sing with these talented musicians brought tears to my eyes, as it always does. Digging Delfeayo filled me with awe. I have played musical instruments (badly) and I have a tiny understanding of the technical expertise and inspiration involved in playing a musical instrument in a way that allows you to express what is in your soul. It ain't easy, baby.
The emotions were just beginning. Bob Maccini from the Prodigals got up to explain that their trombone player, David Dustin, couldn't make this performance due to emergency heart surgery. I got the impression that he is doing all right, which is what counts. BUT here's the cruel irony - Delfeayo plays the trombone. This blew my mind. David must have been heart broken. If I had the chance to sit in Hunter S. Thompson's kitchen, but couldn't make it because of boils or aggravated diarrhea, I would have been crushed. I wish David well and I wish him another chance to sit in with Delfeayo.
While prayers were being offered up, the name of a friend of ours was mentioned because she was recently diagnosed with a brain tumor. This was a horrible jolt and I fought hard to choke back tears (unsuccessfully). Her own daughter beat cancer at a young age, now Jeannie is battling it. Who does this to us fragile humans? And why? And what can religion do about it?
More prayers for people recently dead, sick people, newborns; prayers for what life is and what life does. Again, I was blown away by the scope of life being recognized in a few short words.
I am two months away from completing my 58th year on this planet. I think about death and I think about religion. I want to believe in a higher power but I cannot believe in one that uses hell as a motivator. Eternal suffering? What god could sentence his own creations to something so hideous?
Today will not convert me to a church goer. But it nudged me a little to give the idea of religion some more thought. My impressions were all wound up in the interrelationship of music and faith and church and a community of people with the same hopes and fears coming together to worship, to celebrate, to dig music and to hope. The pastor gave a sermon but the music was the sermon to me. And I bet it was to a lot of the people there as well.
As we walked out, there was an old lady in front of me negotiating the steps with a cane. I heard her say "Well THAT was lively." Said in an appreciative tone. I cracked a huge smile. How cool is that? Maybe that was her first experience with a service of that kind and maybe it changed her thinking a little.
That is the power of music. And should be the power of religion.
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