Lin-Manuel Miranda is a blessing for the USA for which I am truly grateful. I suspect that my reasons for saying that are somewhat different from those which his high-profile fans, supporters, and friends would offer, but I’m no less serious for all that. Of all my reasons, the most important—if we could learn to listen—might be this: he offers our death-denying culture a model for lament.
The novelist and publisher Carolyn Givens wrote beautifully about this in an essay posted on The Rabbit Room a couple months ago called “Lin-Manuel Miranda’s Hopeful Grief.” Givens reflects on “Alabanza” from In the Heights and “It’s Quiet Uptown” from Hamilton, which she calls “two of the most beautiful and hopeful expressions of grief I’ve ever heard.”Read more→
This is one of my favorite worship songs. I say that advisedly, knowing the reaction that statement will get from a lot of people: “That’s not a worship song! It doesn’t end with praise!” In fact, according to an interview the men of Tenth Avenue North gave a few years ago, a lot of Christian-music stations refused to play this song for just that reason: it doesn’t end with everything resolved and God having made everything good again.
But this is a worship song. If you don’t believe me, just ask the Psalmist.
I recently joined hope*writers (hence the badge at the top of the sidebar); it has been a delight for a number of reasons, one of which is discovering some of the other writers on the site and their work. The logical thing to do, then, is to pass some of that on.
Jun Shu, “For the Weary Hearts in Waiting”: this piece of comfort fits well with the post above. Apparently God really wants to drive this point home for me today.
Sarah Treanor, “Field of Dreams”: I’m also grateful for Sarah’s reminder that we need support—and for the encouragement to seek that support. (I also encourage you to check out her portfolio. Be aware that the first collection, “still, life,” was part of her way of processing the death of her fiancé; the images are appropriately powerful, cathartic, and unsettling.)
These are a couple by Rend Collective that I’ve been singing lately; they have something to say that I need to hear, and I’m sure I’m not the only one.
I’ve been waiting for the sun
To come blazing up out of the night like a bullet from a gun
‘Til every shadow is scattered, every dragon’s on the run.
Oh, I believe, I believe that the light is gonna come,
And this is the dark, this is the dark before the dawn.
I’ve been waiting for some peace
To come raining down out of the heavens on these war-torn fields.
All creation is aching for the sons of God to be revealed.
Oh, I believe, I believe that the victory is sealed:
The serpent struck but it was crushed beneath His heel.
Oh, I know the wind can bring the lightning;
Oh, I know the lightning brings the rain.
Oh, I know the storm can be so frightening,
But that same wind is gonna blow that storm away,
Blow that storm away.
Lord, I’m waiting for a change;
I’m waiting for the change . . .
So I’m waiting for the King
To come galloping out of the clouds while the angel armies sing.
He’s gonna gather His people in the shadow of His wings,
And I’m gonna raise my voice with the song of the redeemed,
‘Cause all this darkness is a small and passing thing.
This is the storm, this is the storm,
The storm before the calm;
This is the pain, the pain before the balm.
This is the cold, the cold,
It’s the cold before the warm;
These are the tears, the tears before the song.
This is the dark—
Sometimes all I see is this darkness.
Well, can’t you feel the darkness?
This is the dark before the dawn
I’m just waiting for a change;
Lord, I’m waiting for the change.
I had a dream that I was waking
At the burning edge of dawn
And I could see the fields of glory,
I could hear the sower’s song.
I had a dream that I was waking
At the burning edge of dawn
And all that rain had washed me clean,
All the sorrow was gone.
I had a dream that I was waking
At the burning edge of dawn
And I could finally believe
The King had loved me all along.
I had a dream that I was waking
At the burning edge of dawn—
I saw the sower in the silver mist
And He was calling me home.
There’s an oasis in the heat of the day,
There’s a fire in the chill of night,
And a turnabout in circumstance
Makes each a hell in its own right.
I’ve been boxed in in the lowlands, in the canyons that think,
Been pushed to the brink of the precipice and dared not to blink.
I’ve been confounded in the whirlwind of what-ifs and dreams,
I’ve been burned by the turning of the wind back upon my own flames.
Chorus Knock the scales from my eyes, Knock the words from my lungs. I want to cry out, It’s on the tip of my tongue.
Oh, I’ve seen through the walls of this kingdom of dust,
Felt the crucial revelation;
But the broad streets of the heart and the day-to-day meet
At a blind intersection.
I don’t want to be lonely, I don’t want to feel pain,
I don’t want to draw straws with the sons of Cain.
You can take it as a prayer if you’ll remember my name;
You can take it as the penance of a profane saint.
Chorus
There’s an oasis in the heat of the day;
There’s fire in the chill of night.
When I know them both I’ll know your love—
I will feel it in the twilight—
As circumstance comes crashing through my walls like a train,
Or like a chorus from the mountains of the ocean floor,
Like the wind burst of bird wings taking flight in a hard rain,
Or like a mad dog on the far side of Dante’s door.
The above image is a detail of a painting (oil on wood) by Don Swartzentruber, one of the art teachers at the high school here in town (and also, I believe, an adjunct art professor at Grace College). Don has an interesting side project going on, to which I’ve been meaning to link. He calls it the Carnival Sage project, and as best as I can summarize it, the idea is to use visual storytelling to explore various issues and prompt discussion which goes beyond (or around) the reflexive commentary that fills so much of our media. Check out the Facebook page and see what you think.
In your fine green ware I will walk with you tonight
In your raven hair I will find the Summer night
Upon far flung soil I will run you through my head
In my daily toil all the promises are said
For I know the weary can rise again
I know it all from the words you send
I will go, I will go, I will leave the firelight
I will go, I will go, for it’s now the time is right
Chorus: I will sing a young man’s song That you would sing on Remembrance Day I will be the sacrifice And bells will ring on Remembrance Day
I must leave this land and the hunger that is here
But the place I stand is the one I love so dear
Like a flower in some forest that the world will never see
I will stand so proud for I know what we can be
For I know the weary can rise again
I know it all from the words you send
I will go, I will go, I will leave the firelight
I will go, I will go, for it’s now the time is right
Chorus
This day I will remember you
This way I will always return
This day I will remember you
This way I will always return
Chorus out
Words and music: Stuart Adamson
From the album The Seer
Over the Hills and Far Away
Here’s forty shillings on the drum
For those who volunteer to come,
To ‘list and fight the foe today
Over the hills and far away
Chorus: O’er the hills and o’er the main Through Flanders, Portugal and Spain King George commands and we obey Over the hills and far away
When duty calls me I must go
To stand and face another foe
But part of me will always stray
Over the hills and far away
Chorus
If I should fall to rise no more
As many comrades did before
Then ask the pipes and drums to play
Over the hills and far away
Chorus
Then fall in lads behind the drum
With colours blazing like the sun
Along the road to come what may
Over the hills and far away
Chorus out
Words: John Tams / Music: traditional English folk song From the album Over the Hills and Far Away: The Music of Sharpe
I’m not sure why so many people in Hollywood were surprised when Straight Outta Comptontook over the box office this past August. Interest in the movie was running high, from what I saw, and it’s not as if there was much competition in the theaters by that point. For that matter, though there were some big hits this year, there wasn’t all that much worth watching for most of the summer. What’s more, SOC was released by Universal, which was well into its “all your box office are belong to us” routine. According to the Grantland article linked above,
Universal has already put together a box office year for the ages, and Straight Outta Compton notches the studio’s sixth no. 1 opener of the year. With Straight Outta Compton, Universal could release nothing else this year but a two-hour video of the staff taking selfies and it would still break Warner Bros.’ $2.1 billion record for domestic box office. By the way, that’s a record set in December 2009, which Universal will break in August.
Finally, while the main reason projections for the movie were low was that “it had no stars,” that wasn’t really true. I understand why people would say that (since the only actor in the movie with any reputation to speak of was Paul Giamatti, and he’s not exactly your classic leading man), but it missed the point. The stars of the movie were the characters in the story; it wasn’t the name value of the actors but their ability to bring the characters to life that mattered (as is the case most of the time). N.W.A has been defunct for a long time, but Dr. Dre and Ice Cube still have more pull than most movie stars. As long as they were behind it and the movie told the story in a compelling way, it had all the star power it needed. Having Ice Cube’s son playing him only reinforced that.
While it was mildly amusing watching the commentary and analysis of SOC‘s success, I was more interested in how little controversy there was. I’ve never been a rap fan, but N.W.A was a mammoth cultural presence in my high-school years. I remember the fury they caused, and I remember articles over the years asserting that gangsta rap was celebrating and even inciting violence against the police. I don’t know if those articles were correct or not, but I was surprised that when N.W.A came back in some sense with this movie, I didn’t see the opposition come roaring back along with it. Apart from a personal essay by Dee Barnes, who was brutally assaulted by Dr. Dre in 1991, the dominant cultural response seemed to be nostalgia.
This is unfortunate, because N.W.A shouldn’t be uncritically celebrated.Read more→
