As I typed that, I heard the voice of Sheena Easton singing it…
Anyhow.
For the next four weeks, the Friday Fix is going to be ‘Out Of The Ordinary’ and won’t drop a reflection each Friday. This is because a handful of our regular contributors were asked if they could write a reflection for the Methodist Church’s Advent campaign ‘Out of the Ordinary’ this year – and it makes much more sense to share those reflections as they are released each week.
So – for Advent only – look out for a ‘Saturday Shot’ instead!
I am a big fan of cover versions. This might be a controversial thing to say, since cover versions can somewhat divide opinions – among both musicians and fans – but it’s nonetheless true. There are those, such as the late Prince, that would argue that in no other art form is an artist so little in control of who can produce different versions of your intellectual property – if another musician pays for the appropriate mechanical licence there is generally nothing the original artist can do to stop an alternative version being performed, recorded, and distributed, even if the new version is disliked by the original composer or performer. Of course, proper acknowledgments need to be given, but beyond that, once you put music out there, any other artist can pretty much cover it any way they like without your say-so.
This can, of course, result in cover versions becoming better known than the original. For example, the late Sinéad O’Connor’s cover of Prince’s ‘Nothing Compares 2 U’ is undoubtedly better known than Prince’s own versions – the Irish woman certainly comes above the Minnesotan man in a Spotify search. Yet the debate will rage as to whether a cover version is actually better than the original. I’d personally argue that almost any cover of a Bob Dylan song is better than the original – because while I think Dylan is an amazing songwriter I don’t think he’s a great singer, but plenty of Dylan fans would passionately disagree with me, and I suspect Dylan would too!
Yet sometimes a cover version can almost indisputably be considered superior to an original, so much so that the song somehow becomes the property of the later artist. I would suggest that one such song is the Johnny Cash version of Nine Inch Nails’ ‘Hurt’. And if any NIN fans want to disagree then I’ll simply point out that Trent Reznor himself is on record in several places as saying that it’s Cash’s song now rather than his.
Recorded for the album, American IV: The Man Comes Around, in 2002, it was the video of the song released the following year that truly captured the imagination of critics and the popular music-listening population. In it, Cash takes an industrial rock track about the writer’s struggles with heroin addiction, and turns it into a meditation on life, love, faith and mortality (the mystique and emotion of Cash’s version is rooted in part by the reality that by the end of 2003 both Cash’s wife June Carter Cash and Johnny himself had both died from medical complications). Most notably, the conversion to a religious reflection comes as Cash changes just one word from the original, moving from singing about the wearing of a crown of “shit” to instead referencing one made of thorns.
For me, Cash’s incredible cover reminds me that nothing is irredeemable in this world. To be clear, I’m not sold on the idea Reznor’s original needs redemption, yet even those who might argue it does would struggle to argue against the idea that this is precisely what Cash has managed to do. Cover versions may be controversial, but their existence enables artists to offer new possibilities, challenge presumptions, and create new ways of engaging with the transcendent.
So anyone who knows me well knows I love this band. In fact, I have written about their work before as part of the Fix. Getting my tickets for the upcoming ‘Silence is Easy’ anniversary tour has made me very happy and brought on a lot of track re-visiting.
James Walsh’s distinctive voice is something that draws me in but also always the lyrical content and of course, the ever-present opening line…
But for the grace of God, she’d cry herself to sleep
It’s not news to me, it’s probably not news to you either if you follow the Fix regularly, that I am attracted to desperately complicated or sad songs. Those expressing deep emotions and I’m not averse to them leaving me desolate frankly. I’m also not under any illusion that it’s not everyone’s cup of tea.
My friend said to me once “Jane, you need to get a better playlist ‘cos this one’s not good for you” but I do think that sometimes letting your soul speak through music avoids hiding pain deep inside.
Despite appearances, this isn’t totally one of those songs because there is something really deep within it that talks about a change of perspective, a change of circumstance, and offers some sense of hope. I have no idea really why this girl is struggling so. Why she needs someone to sing to her. Why she is criticized so and needs someone to stick up for her. Why people feel so compassionate towards her. What or who has a hold over her.
All this not knowing makes me wonder about which character I am in the story, where the resonance sits and what I might sing to relieve the distress (answers on a postcard please). It also makes me wonder if I have any kind of handle on it at all! (Oh and I have a secret fear that whatever she is experiencing is because someone’s view of God is being forced on her and the blessings come when she can get away from the pressure. This fear I’m trying to bury)
But for the grace of God, she’d cry herself to sleep, Because the grace of God is something she can’t keep
Oh, it won’t be long until their hold is broken,
Oh it won’t be long until we’ve found our home
It’s for the good of you I sing sweet melody, They’ll cast the first stone when the last one’s out of reach
Oh, it won’t be long until their hold is broken, No, it won’t be long until we’ve found our home
Forget where to begin Mother, I have not sinned I have not…
The talk of God and all sorts of other biblical imagery ripple through this song like a stick of Blackpool rock. Just what is God is doing that’s so powerful to make a change and make her realise that the grace of God is something she can keep and brings relief.
But for the grace of God, she’d cry herself to sleep, But now the grace of God’s the reason that she weeps
When summer comes Light my life Snow will melt away
I was born again, I was born again, Not into the world they put me in
She was born again, she was born again, Not into the world they put her in
The hope and the spirit I’d rather not fear it
Being born again can be one of those glib Christian statements thrown around to describe a type of faith or a conversion experience. Biblically it’s part of a much deeper conversation around how to be wholly different. The need for a real new sense of perspective and that to see God’s kingdom and purpose revealed requires an acceptance of something beyond yourself. The spirit at work. A revelatory change.
I’ve dug around to see if the writer has ever explained this song and I can’t see anything. In a way that’s a good thing. The questions keep coming but it’s clear to me, from lyric and musical urgency, that something has changed and made a difference. If we could all grasp onto a bit of that deep change we’d maybe be living very different lives.
The last couple of days – All Saints Day (1st November) and All Souls Day (2nd November)- have become days that I have grown to love and cherish over the years. Maybe it’s because I’m getting older and I’ve lived long enough to say goodbye to a number of significant people who’ve helped shape and influence me. Grandparents, Aunts, Uncles, Parents-in-Law, Family Friends, Peers. This time of year gives us permission to reflect, and more importantly, give thanks for those people.
It also gives us space to acknowledge those who have somehow influenced us, not because we knew them personally but because they have been role models or an inspiration to us. They might be people from ‘our time’ who had talent that we aspire to, or have had an impact on the way we’ve engaged with life, have entertained us or whose humanity and vulnerability has enabled us to recognise our own – recent ones who spring to mind are Sir Bobby Charlton, Glenda Jackson, Sinead O’Connor and Matthew Perry.
Or they may be people who lived way before our time, whose lives might be surrounded in myth and legend but who still somehow have an influence on the way we approach life. For me, I would probably include Julian of Norwich, St Cuthbert and St Hild of Whitby amongst my ‘saints.’
I have come to the conclusion that there are formal and informal saints in our lives. The recognised, canonised ones of the Christian church who some of us may warm to and others who may not; and our own personal ones who have walked alongside us on our life’s journey, lifting us up with their love and sagacity or holding us down with their wisdom and nurturing.
Lift me up Hold me down
Keep me close Safe and sound
You may know that this song is the lead single from the Marvel film ‘Black Panther: Wakanda Forever.’ You may also know that this song was written as a tribute to the late Chadwick Boseman, the beloved actor who played T’Challa, the Black Panther and King of Wakanda. Boseman’s untimely death at the age of 43 was particularly felt keenly by his colleagues and fans and when the decision was taken to make a second Black Panther film, the director, crew and actors were adamant that there needed to be the sense of loss in the film along with a strong feeling of hope.
Rihanna co-wrote this song with Nigerian artist, Tems, Ludwig Göransson (the composer of the Black Panther score) and the director Ryan Coogler. Tems said in an interview with Variety magazine that:
“After speaking with Ryan Coogler [the movie’s director] and hearing his direction for the film and the song, I wanted to write something that portrays a warm embrace from all the people that I’ve lost in my life. I tried to imagine what it would feel like if I could sing to them now and express how much I miss them.‘
For me, this song captures the feelings that grief and loss bring. That raw-ness and vulnerability of burning in an endless dream and drowning in an endless sea married with the warmth and strength in remembering – keep me in the warmth of your love and keep me in the strength of your arms.
Music never fails to amaze me at the way it can encapsulate human emotion. For me, this song genuinely captures the feelings and emotions of both grief and hope. It somehow expresses those feelings of not wanting to let go whilst at the same time exuding a sense of safety and acceptance. The song itself might be quite repetitive and simple, but somehow glimmers of joy can be traced within it.
In his book, Finding My Way Home, Henri Nouwen says, “Your whole life is filled with losses, endless losses. And every time there are losses there are choices to be made. You choose to live your losses as passages to anger, blame, hatred, depression, and resentment, or you choose to let these losses be passages to something new, something wider, and deeper. The question is not how to avoid loss and make it not happen, but how to choose it as a passage, as an exodus to a greater life of freedom.”
This month of November is a time in the year where we remember and give thanks for those who have died, yet they continue to live in our thoughts and our memories and our idiosyncrasies and our aspirations. I don’t know about you but I find that really comforting. Comfort and joy.
I well remember both occasions that I took the module on Liturgy & Music as part of my postgraduate worship studies. The first time I was on the slide into a major depressive crash, and the week of lectures did nothing to help, despite being a lover of music.
It seemed the week was full of auditors who were attending because they loved traditional “church music” – with a sense of elitist snobbery and perfectionism infecting almost all our conversations. My depression meant I failed to submit the required assignments, so two years later I re-took the module. On this occasion, we were asked to bring a piece of music with us that spoke to us of worship and faith.
Remembering the last time I’d attended, I deliberately took a secular piece. Once the week was over and I was researching my essay, I discovered the piece I then wished I’d taken instead – ‘Nazorean’ by Deuteronomium.
Were I able to have my time again with that first group of fellow students, I would sit them down and have them listen to ‘Nazorean’. This is no Tallis or Gibbons, Bach or Mozart, Rachmaninov or Pärt, yet the song is no less a devout and orthodox creed than those you would find in the work of classical composers more associated with religious work.
At 200 bpm and in a deep growl it recounts the credal description of Jesus’ death and resurrection and declares the singer a follower of Christ. It is a declaration of faith in a place and in a style that I suspect many might deny it could possibly exist.
My usual rock listening has generally only flirted with the edges of metal music. As with all genres nowadays, metal can be divided into many sub-genres, one of which is known as Death Metal – lots of high-speed bass drumming, pounding power chords, and growling lyrics of a usually somewhat macabre and/or nihilistic nature. Such music is particularly popular in Finland, to the extent that there is a further sub-genre of Finnish Death Metal. And, within that, one finds an even smaller genre – Christian Finnish Death Metal! This is the sub-sub-sub-genre of Deuteronomium.
‘Nazorean’, and indeed the whole album, ‘The Amen’, from which it comes, forms the manifesto for why I believe this blog matters – the Church, while declaring the love of God for all, and acknowledging that God is present everywhere, too easily and too often writes off certain parts of life and culture as beyond the pale, as antithetical to good theological thinking and faithful listening.
Yet it is my experience that it is precisely in those places that we find God revealed in new and challenging ways. If God can ignore the idea that material flesh is somehow beneath the divine and come to us incarnate in Christ, then God can certainly come to us in musical forms that we might have written off as disturbing, nihilistic, profane, and even, yes, satanic.
If we are, like Deuteronomium, to be followers of Christ then we have to be open to encountering him in the places we have previously written off – and that includes secular, popular music, including Death Metal, whether or not it’s of the Christian Finnish type or not!
I found this one whilst planning an Act of Worship for a Secondary School… on “Resilience” believe it or not…
Resilience isn’t mentioned in the Bible. I tried to find a Greek word as to what it means so that I could check in the geeky apps and things I use to make sure.
The word that came back was this one… ελαστικότητα (Elastikótita) However you pronounce it, that first bit is where we get our word “Elastic” (I could tell that without looking it up)
So what have I learned?
Let’s think about Elastic vs Plastic…
Both can be moulded and shaped by the world around them.
Plastic tends to need heat and energy in order to make it take shape, and then when you take the heat away it will stay the shape that it has been moulded to. You can often re-apply heat to a plastic shape and then re-shape it again, but the more you heat and cool it, the more brittle it becomes in its set state. The more likely it is to break.
Elastic moves with the input of energy; it changes shape, changes tension and adapts, but always returns to where it was before. It’s kind of like Elastic Man.
Plastic things need certainty and consistency after being moulded in order to maintain their form and not get weakened and brittle, elastic things get brittle when they’re not used. If they’re not regularly flexed, or are left too long in a stretched position, then they become brittle and snap.
Anyway, resilience is about this whole “elastic” thing…
So where does it feature in the Bible? Directly? Nowhere. Resilience isn’t a word used in the bible in English, Greek, or Hebrew.
And in the way that I’ve heard Christianity talked about lots in the past, I have often wondered whether the concept of it is even there. The “similar” words that sometimes get used to replace resilience in the Bible are perseverance… endurance… long-suffering… tolerance. They don’t quite cut it for me.
They imply being rigid, immobile, standing against and putting up with things. Letting them bounce off you like they aren’t really things.
That’s not to say that a better “elastic” idea of resilience isn’t in the Bible. I think it is, in stories and even in what God calls people to be, but I think it’s uncomfortable and ignored.
The closest I can get to what I think resilience is is in 2 Corinthians 4:8-9 – “We are under all kinds of pressure, but we are not crushed completely; we are at a loss, but not at our wits’ end; we are persecuted, but not abandoned; we are cast down, but not destroyed.”
To me, this is about resilience because it’s not trying to deny the difficulty, but to allow for flexibility in line with the tension.
I think for me there are 4 key steps to being resilient:
Step 1: Don’t pretend everything is ok. Don’t try and be immovable plastic. That never ends well. Allow for hurt and for flow. For pressure and change.
Step 2: Have faith in your capacity to stretch. You got this. Yes, it’s difficult, but you, with the support of others can weather the storm. Resilience is about trusting that you will not snap with added pressure and tension.
Step 3: Be confident* that you can bounce back (*That’s my definition of Hope) Just like elastic, being stretched isn’t a permanent design. It might last a little while, but your body, brain, spirit and soul know deep down how your life is supposed to be. It is doing its job when it is stretched, but it is also doing its job when it returns to form. Listen to your body, in line with your mind, soul and spirit.
Step 4: Know, grow, and show Love If you can identify love, friends, divinity and family, then you are already well on your way to resilience.
But why these four steps? 1 Corinthians 13:13 says
“Three things will last forever– faith, hope, and love– and the greatest of these is love.”
Ultimately resilience isn’t something you do on your own. It’s a together thing. A family thing. A community thing.
Oh how very real this seems sometimes. Just a song title describing exactly what’s going on inside your head. I came across it on one of those walks with the earphones planted firmly in my ears providing the perfect chance to discover new music amidst old favourites.
This is a song that comes with both a fabulously distinctive voice, spare sound and a certain kind of lament. Then it does the thing I love most. Builds and builds and builds. It’s a song aware of its own shape and style which brings a
desire not to lose it in the multitude of choices provided by modern-day music listening.
I’ve been tired since 1994.
I don’t feel like this all the time of course but there are some days when you feel that there’s a relentlessness to life, the universe and everything, and with good reason. I suspect too that for some people life is a treadmill and that there is no possibility for proper respite.
The pace of working life caused by the gig economy and the desire for 24/7 retail and service. The need to be up when the rest of the world is awake. The unseen carers holding down jobs and looking after loved ones so they can sleep but unable then to get any rest themselves. The support services in hospitals, care homes and other “round the clock” care providers. It’s a list that you could probably extend yourself.
I can’t remember how it feels to be bored. I’m still dancing with pressure and fear. And made from myself, There’s nothing I wish but to disappear.
The lyricist suggests that sometimes the anxiety and the pressure is of their own making. Maybe even their own choosing. Whatever is going on for them is, in their view, turning them into a faded flower and they’ve had enough.
I’m starting to fade away, I’m too young to fade away, No I just can’t fade away !
Research says that the good old “me time” is of increasing value and that the importance of finding some way to exploit what gives you life is the key to improved mental and physical health. Burnout is now a word we hear in many more professions and our communities of faith are no different.
In fact, Sanctuary Mental Health says that “One in four people will be affected by a mental health challenge at some point in their lives, yet the stigma surrounding these experiences often prevents faith communities from responding compassionately and effectively.”
In the stories that humankind shared about their origins, there is one that tells of a set of guidelines for life. Christians know it as the Ten Commandments and among them there is one that says this:
“8-11 Observe the Sabbath day, to keep it holy. Work six days and do everything you need to do. But the seventh day is a Sabbath to God, your God. Don’t do any work—not you, nor your son, nor your daughter, nor your servant, nor your maid, nor your animals, not even the foreign guest visiting in your town. For in six days God made Heaven, Earth, and sea, and everything in them; he rested on the seventh day. Therefore God blessed the Sabbath day; he set it apart as a holy day”
Finding time to value yourself, those you love and keeping at least one day precious is a story as old as time. It seems that it’s not easy and for people of faith it gets tangled with their duty towards church attendance but God sees how critical it is to rest. To keep something holy. Kadosh. Kodesh. Set apart for a specific purpose.
The world does too. So whether it’s the weekend or a random half day somewhere let these words from Last Train inspire you to release the pressure – or help someone else to – and take the rest option. Walk up a hill, paint a picture, read a book, dance with a loved one, or sit silently. The choices are yours.
My 17-year old self might look upon the life her middle-aged self is experiencing and say ‘Well, who knew that life in the 21st Century could feel like you’re living in 1984.’ And by ‘1984’, I obviously mean the book by George Orwell that 17-year old Gill kind of enjoyed at ‘A’ Level but was a bit too immature to quite grasp the politics, social commentary and let’s face it, prophetic visions, that Orwell described.
It feels to me that week by week, month by month, year by year, Orwell’s novel makes more and more sense, and disturbingly, elements of it feel more real too. Take this week, for example, when more than one public figure has used words and said things that have disturbed, angered, and provoked. I am sure I can sense that they are manipulating and dividing people by the words that they are choosing to use.
“But if thought corrupts language, language can also corrupt thought.” said George Orwell.
Words can be used as weapons. They can also be used to bring people together. To fire people up. To motivate. To manipulate. To show love. To share hate. They can sow seeds of thought that impact positively and negatively. A homophobic attitude might be cloaked in language that comes across as legitimate; a comment about whether a woman is the sort you’d chat up in a bar or a statements in official government documents labelling people with the ‘N’ word. The use of such words and language by public figures and places give permission for them to be used in everyday life to oppress, denigrate and degrade our neighbours, friends and family.
Words like violence Break the silence Come crashing in Into my little world Painful to me Pierce right through me Can’t you understand?
‘Enjoy The Silence’ is one of the most popular songs by Depeche Mode (it was voted Best British Single in the 1991 Brit Awards) and it reminds us about the damage that words can do. Even when we love people, there are times when we can’t stop ourselves sniping, gossiping, talking behind their backs or responding passive-aggressively (just a few examples).
No wonder the narrator of the song prefers to sit and hold their beloved in their arms, in silence. Letting the moment calm them, reassure them and dwell in the feelings of love. If we enjoy the silence, we can feel safe in the space that words – even well-intentioned ones- are not going to come in and disrupt.
Vows are spoken To be broken Feelings are intense Words are trivial Pleasures remain So does the pain Words are meaningless And forgettable
The Epistle of James has quite a bit to say about the use of words. We’re confronted by the image that the tongue can be like the spark of a fire that leads to the devastation of a forest. Just one small word can lead to destruction.
I find this in my work as a Place for Hope Practitioner. Place for Hope is a charity that ‘accompanies and equips people and faith communities so that all might reach their potential to be peacemakers who navigate conflict well’. What you often find at the heart of a conflict or challenging situation is a conversation or an exchange of words that was the catalyst that has reeked havoc through a community or into a relationship.
The founder of Methodism, John Wesley, also had thoughts on the words that we utter. He wrote quite clearly about the expectations of what a Methodist should be like. These thoughts should apply not just to Methodists but to anyone who is a Jesus Follower. Here’s what he says:
“He cannot speak evil of his neighbour no more than he can lie, either for God or man. He cannot utter an unkind word of any one; for love keeps the door of his lips. He cannot speak idle words. No corrupt communication ever comes out of his mouth, as is all that which is not good, to the use of edifying, not fit to minister grace to the hearers. But whatsover things, are pure, whatsover things are lovely, whatsoever things are justly of good report, he thinks and speaks, and acts, adorning the gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ in all things.” (The Character of a Methodist by John Wesley)
It’s a challenge isn’t it. We love to talk and natter. We love a good craic. What we say can build people up; can encourage and can be the thing that changes a life.
Perhaps enjoying the silence is also about that moment we can take before we utter our words to one another. A moment when we can consider how what we are about to say might be received. A moment to recognise that the person before us is created in the image of God.
Oh, what joy a new song is! A new artist. A new take. Sometimes they surprise you so much and just enter your ears without invitation. This is one such song that appeared on Spotify ‘cos I’d started out with something else.
I was initially attracted by the voice of this artist, and the simplicity and emptiness of the sound, but then the lyrics kicked in and I wondered what it was all about. Digging around, it seems to be dedicated to the singer’s Grandma. An explanation of the “wordless promises” to someone loved at the end of their lives. The hand-holding and the close affection.
Anyone who has had the privilege of sitting at the bedside of a loved one during those days will know the profound impact of it. What to say and what not to. How to behave and how not to. What to express and what to hold in. The value of your physical presence and theirs. The need to be sure that they know you care and for me, most profoundly of all, what to pray for and when.
Life’s circle and balances seem all too hard to navigate when time is obviously at a premium and in those precious moments maintaining communication, no matter how small or limited, is like a hidden treasure. The last vestiges of love evident in the need to keep contact through voice, or expression, or breath.
How then do you talk to God about the situation and what do your prayers contain? Peace. Thanksgiving. Desperation. Acceptance. A need to be sure it will be the right thing, the right way at the right time. A bit of rage. A request or a deep-seated knowing. I love the way the songwriter accepts that prayer is a two-way thing here and is in need of its comfort as much as their loved one.
Eventually, of course, the inevitable happens but for me, this song sums up those last few precious days and hours when “sitting on the edge of the bed” is what is of value, and holding a hand says more than any words can.
No experience is the same as any other but this song touched me with its honesty – so on this occasion, it seems best to share the whole set of lyrics. Make of it what you will, but know that the value of the instinct to pray in such tough circumstances is precious beyond words.
I’ve never seen wrists so thin
I’ve never seen your hair without the curls that you put in
Your eyes flutter when you talk about the places that you’ve lived
But Dublin’s different now and you miss your best friend
The Friday Fix 