But I Said I Would Never Write About Religion
Unintentionally, I’ve been taking time off from writing this summer. However, two somewhat recent events inspire this posting, and although I proclaimed that this blog would avoid religion, the two items relate to that forbidden topic.
First, indulge me as I provide some personal background. I grew up in the Bible Belt and was raised in the Methodist Church. I remember my parents commenting on sermons that were occasionally filled with “fire and brimstone,” but do not recall experiences that were particularly evangelical, even though that is oftentimes the characterization of southern churches. The foundation from my formative years kept me moored to the Methodist Church after my migration to Madison, although my church attendance has ebbed and flowed over the years. I joke that the Methodist Church is the church of the prodigal son, where lapsed individuals, like me, are always welcome upon their return.
The most recent event to inspire this posting was a CBS News story about an ambulance company in southern Louisiana that was unable to unload transported patients at hospitals, because the facilities were at capacity due to covid’s delta variant. Multiple ambulances were cued at emergency room doors for hours waiting for a bed to open so that the people they transported could be admitted, leaving the cued ambulances unable to respond to other emergency calls. CBS interviewed one of the ambulance company’s EMTs who admitted that she had not received a covid vaccine! She informed that her family is deeply religious and she prays for the Lord to look after her and protect her.
Her explanation reminds me of a story I heard in a sermon by Reverend Sue Burwell some years ago about a flood, which I paraphrase here. “As a believer watched storm clouds grow, he received a weather warning on his radio that waters were rising and individuals in the flood’s path should evacuate. He stayed put, reasoning that the Lord would protect him. A short time later, a deputy sheriff knocked on his door and advised him to evacuate, but he stayed put reasoning that the Lord would protect him. As the flood waters lapped at the side of his house, rescuers approached in a boat to ferry him to safety, but he stayed put reasoning that the Lord would protect him. Some time later, he climbed to the roof of his house to escape the rising waters and cried that the Lord had abandoned him in his time of need. At that moment, the clouds opened, and the Lord appeared, asking the man, ‘Why do you think I’ve abandoned you? First, I sent a warning on your radio, then I sent a deputy to your house advising you to leave, and then I sent good Samaritans in a boat to rescue you.’ “
Of course, Sue’s message is that we don’t get to choose how God responds to our pleadings. And hopefully, Sue’s story will give people pause to think about how their God speaks to them and to reconsider any hesitancy they may have toward receiving a vaccine.
The other item that inspired me was a rendition of Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah,” performed by Yolanda Adams in January at the Lincoln Memorial reflecting pool during the national covid remembrance of lives lost. The song’s lyrics impart a cynicism that was incompatible with the event’s message and made the song seem out of place. I’ve possessed a longstanding frustration with people who regard the song as something that it’s not -- religious.
I understand that the song’s title is a combination of the Hebrew words “hillel” and “Jah,” meaning praise the Lord, and the song’s lyrics incorporate Biblical references to David and Bathsheba and Samson and Delilah. Nonetheless, I regard these references in the first two verses as setting up the song’s theme in its final verse of love that fails to fulfill expectations:
Well, maybe there’s a God above
But all I ever learned from love
Was how to shoot somebody who outdrew ya
And it’s not a cry that you hear at night
It’s not somebody who’s seen the light
It’s a cold and it’s a broken Hallelujah
After thinking about this verse, k.d. lang’s comments on the song’s meaning resonate with me. She describes the song as “the struggle between having human desire and searching for spiritual wisdom. It’s being caught between these two places.” I’m not sure what’s more religious than that, so I guess my impression of the song is evolving.
Like religion, the song means different things to different people, as evidenced by over 300 cover versions. All versions use Cohen’s first two verses - containing the Biblical references - of the song’s original four verses. However, Cohen composed more than 80 verses over the five years he took to write the song, so many versions contain more than four verses, and some versions do not include the original third and fourth verses.
After its release by Cohen in 1984, “Hallelujah” achieved little popularity until other artists began covering it. John Cale, formerly of the Velvet Underground, released a version in 1991. The song’s seminal moment occurred in 1994 when Jeff Buckley included a version on his album, “Grace.” Buckley’s version popularized the song tremendously, and his version included here contains the four verses heard most often, plus an additional verse (4th) that is considered erotic by some. Finally, this version from a 2008 London performance by Cohen contains that verse – performed fifth - plus a sixth verse which was the closing verse in the 1984 version. Cohen died on November 7, 2016.
Buckley deserves additional mention. “Grace” was Buckley’s only album released while he was still alive, and it achieved little acclaim until 2002. Tragically, that was five years after his death from a swimming accident in the Mississippi River, near Memphis, Tennessee, where he was living at the time.
For a bit of whimsy, here are four other songs with religious titles that may not contain religious lyrics.
Chuck Berry’s Promised Land. Berry’s promised land was Los Angeles, California, and this song is about a poor boy who arrives there after boarding a Greyhound bus in Norfolk, Virginia and travelling through various southern cities. Berry wrote this song while in prison and recorded it for Chess Records in 1964. It became an American classic after it was recorded by Elvis Presley and numerous others.
Grateful Dead’s I Need a Miracle. Released in 1978, this song is on the band’s “Shakedown Street” album, which was produced by Lowell George of Little Feat. While each verse begins with “I need a woman,” the song is not something that might draw objections from the Me Too Movement. Rather, the song is self-deprecating humor aimed at the singer and the band. This song is noteworthy because it has a special place in Grateful Dead history. Sometime after its release, a fan appeared at a Grateful Dead concert holding a sign reading “I Need A Miracle.” The sign was code for needing a ticket, and similar signs began proliferating at other concerts. In typical Dead Head fashion, the “real” miracle occurred when the ticket was offered at no charge, which was common. After all, there was a special karma at Grateful Dead concerts.
Journey’s Don’t Stop Believin’. I admit this group and their song are not in my wheelhouse. I listened to little rock-and-roll in the 1980s, instead returning to my roots of blues, R&B, and zydeco. Nonetheless, this song’s keyboard opening and guitar riff at the end of the first verse are praiseworthy. Just before that riff, Steve Perry sings, “Just a city boy, born and raised in South Detroit.” Geographically, South Detroit is Windsor, Canada. However, that makes little difference to Detroit Red Wings fans as this song regularly serenades them at hockey games.
Aretha Franklin’s I Say a Little Prayer for You. This song was written by Burt Bacharach and Hal David for Dionne Warwick and is a woman’s prayer for her man serving in the Vietnam War. Released in 1967, Warwick’s version sold over a million copies as a single, and she performs the song beautifully. But for me, there are few singers that compare to Aretha Franklin. Every time I hear one of her songs on Sirius XM’s Soultown, I think it must be the best song she recorded – until I hear another song by her. Released in 1968, Franklin’s version was backed by The Sweet Inspirations, and the song was a success for her as well. It seems appropriate to end this posting with Aretha’s version since it coincides with the release of the film “Respect,” which chronicles her life.