True Companion

Springtime Companions by Mary Elise (passiflora photography)

The memory grows short as the days go by.  I find myself in places that apparently cater to people who came of age in the late 80s and early 90s.  The music churns through the space and I find myself rocked as if a time warp has carried me back into those moments so long ago.

Last weekend it was 99 Red Balloons.  Today, it is Marc Cohn’s “True Companion.”  I remember his “Walking in Memphis” rocketed him into popularity.  I owned the cassette tape.  Long before I knew anything about his lines, the music called out to me.

Baby I’ve been searching like everybody else
Can’t say nothing different about myself
Sometimes I’m an angel
And sometimes I’m cruel
And when it comes to love
I’m just another fool
Yes, I’ll climb a mountain
I’m gonna swim the sea
There ain’t no act of God girl
Could keep you safe from me
My arms are reaching out
Out across this canyon
I’m asking you to be my true companion
True companion
True companion

Cohn’s lyrics stir beautiful images of what it means for a man to have gained a woman’s heart and trust, the greatest achievement he’ll ever gain  Still, I’ve learned even more of what it means to be “companion.” 

Lately, I’ve been thinking about the notion of a companion for a while.  I’ve spoken with people over the past weeks who’ve had their trust betrayed when their partner broke bread with others.  Others tell me about rejection they’ve experienced by someone whom they thought was their true companion.  Another tells me that one has no worth without a true companion.  Of course, we hear the heart-angst in each of these.

Literally, a companion is “someone with whom you break bread.”  So our companions are those with whom we share table fellowship.  That might mean eucharist (communion).  Or it might mean a dinner date.  It could even be Manwich and Preacher Cookies after a daylong, 350 mile trip to a health specialist. 

Years ago I decided that I never wanted to be married to someone with whom I sat in silence when we went out to dinner.  Why would two people who have nothing to say to one another break bread together?  Since then, I’ve decided that  maybe sometimes, the silence is necessary.

What makes a true companion?  Who is yours?  What is that person like?

*Note:  I came upon Mary Elise (passiflora photography) who created the image above.  I think her work is wonderful.  If you click on “Springtime Companions,” it will take you to her website.

Lyrical autobiography

Have you noticed how some songs will come around and around again?  Maybe not in terms of popularity, but in the way they speak to you?  It can be the same with the holy texts.  Somehow, a interpretation you had at 14 is still part of you when you’re 23.  Yet that early-twenties experience is new and fresh.  The layers build with successive readings to deepen the encounter with the text and the God to whom it points.  As with scripture, so songs speak to me.

Before I enrolled in an upper level preaching class (Preaching the Parables), I’d already been fascinated with the story of the Persistent Widow and the Unjust Judge.  But working through that text in preparation for a sermon, paper, and defense steeped me in a greater appreciation of what God was saying through Jesus’ parabolic teaching.  Then, into the parish I went and the text became part of my survival, thriving, and ministry to those who also were trying to resurface from challenges at hand.  Just as my Creator has charged me never to give up, so I urge others. 

 

2 He said, “There was once a judge in some city who never gave God a thought and cared nothing for people. 3 A widow in that city kept after him: ‘My rights are being violated. Protect me!’ 4 “He never gave her the time of day. But after this went on and on he said to himself, ‘I care nothing what God thinks, even less what people think. 5 But because this widow won’t quit badgering me, I’d better do something and see that she gets justice – otherwise I’m going to end up beaten black and blue by her pounding.'” (Luke 18: 2-5, The Message)

It’s safe to say that I’ve had more than one person’s share of struggles.  I won’t belabor the details here.  They could very well be too personal for such a venue.  But the Widow’s persistence, for me, became representative of God’s persistence with us.  Our Creator who made us in God’s own image and endowed us with life, choice, and great love will never give up on us.  Ever.  Even to the very end.  Why?  Because God’s nature is love.  So, why should I give up on myself or others?

Yes, sometimes one must walk away from a fight, but the fighter still remains.  So, as I consider a song that describes me, I come to Simon & Garfunkel’s “The Boxer.”   Although the metaphor breaks plainly down when he arrives at the ladies on 7th Avenue.  “The Boxer” was a song that stirred me as a youth and moves me more today.  That, my friends, is good music.

Flights of fancy

 

Art is a part of my story.  “Creativity is my spirituality,” I wrote several years ago.  From my visit to the USSR in 1990 when I stood and then sat in awe before a painting of Aurora in the Pushkin Museum to creators I encounter on the web, I’m stirred by classically trained and outsider artists alike.  From time to time, I’ll share here some of those artists who stir my imagination.

 

James Christensen is one of these.  Christensen’s philosophy is “Believing is Seeing.”  His art is heavily influenced by fairy tales, fantasy, myths, and fables.  A portion of his work is also influenced by faith-stories of the Judeo-Christian world. 

Here are a few other of my favorite images Christensen has created.

  Touching the Hem of God

 

Angel with Three Devils

 

Fairy Tales

High School Musical

One of my best friends writes that she’s destined to be an old woman without regrets.   I wish I could be that girl.  Alas, I missed the boat in high school.  I allowed my shyness to paralyze my vocal chords.  Artistic, a lover of classical music, the idea of getting up on stage was horrifying.  So I quietly listened from my folding seat in the Little Theatre.

Why was it then, that upon arriving on my college campus, I became so very involved in choirs and theatre?  Maybe it took one step closer toward fulfilling my desire to join a ballad-belting, chill bump inducing Glee Club?

These days, as a 30-something, I find myself grinning like a Cheshire cat every week as I watch awkward, heartfelt teens wailing and dancing and cavorting.  Like the parents who live out their childhood fantasies by enrolling their kids in sports leagues and beauty competitions, I think I get my itch scratched when I escape into Glee.

A few times, I’ve wondered what the students would have sung if “Glee” had aired when I was in high school.  I remember UB40’s “Red, Red Wine” at a post-football game dance.  (The song hit #1 on October 15, 1988.)  It seems strange now that we 15 year olds swayed in the carpeted cafeteria to a song about the soothing aspects of alcohol.   But then, I find it slightly odd that even broadcast programming has high school kids singing songs like “Gives You Hell.” 

Then, there’s “Poison” by Bell Biv Devoe, circa 1990 and my senior year.  The inaugural class of the City’s leadership development group called “SHOUT! for Youth Leadership” danced at the Allandale Mansion barn.    Did our mothers really know what we were listening to?  Sure, sometimes, we just wanna have fun, like Cyndi Lauper sang.   But, does anybody in authority pay attention to the songs at high school dances?  Then or now?  Didn’t people used to groan about censors?  Do they even still exist?

I don’t know.

I guess I’ve always been a bit counter cultural.  My tastes in high school went along the lines of Simon & Garfunkel and Igor Stravinsky.  (Although I must confess, I enjoy the TV ads for hair-band collections and can sing along to Def Leppard’s “Pour Some Sugar On Me.“)

Oooh, and that brought a memory rushing from Middle School.  “I Just Died in Your Arms Tonight” came out in 1986.  I had to have it.  Five or six times I tried to buy a 45 of Cutting Crew’s coolness.  Each was defective.  I gave up.  Still love the song.  Thank God for WQUT and blank cassette tapes.

So, there you have it.  Day 2.  A song that reminds you of your high (and middle) school days.