Confession

“I am the Lord your God, who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of bondage. You shall have no other gods before Me."
Exodus 20:2

I am an Idolater.

Used to be that I would go to a place where'd we'd come together, dim the lights, allow our minds and our moods to converge and music would be our guide. I'd sing, I'd raise my hands, I'd kneel. I'd embrace the people I was there with to remind them, physically that I was here with them, and they with me. We'd call it worship, we'd call it church. We'd sing songs of praises, also called Psalms. I'd be there singing with my friends, feeling God among us, coveting a life that went on endlessly from the moment we created.

"Me and my friends are like the drums on 'Lust for Life', we pound it out on floor toms, our Psalms are sing a long songs."
-Craig Finn of The Hold Steady

I went to two back-to-back Hold Steady shows last weekend. Friday night me and my friends drove three plus hours to Oklahoma City, pilgrims on a journey, to a tiny venue in the middle of nowhere. The lights went down. We put our hands in the air. We put our arms around each other's necks. We sang along. We pounded the air. We worshipped.

The Christians will tell me that the Hold Steady are a secular band. That if I committed my body and spirit to worship last weekend, then I am a Heretic, an Idolater.

I will tell you a secret about secular music. There is no such thing. It's all praise. It's all sacred. The difference between the sacred and the secular is the intended target. I can think of no greater target of my praise than the spirit of something larger than me, moving through a crowd, unified in song.
I don't throw my hands in the air at work. I don't close my eyes and feel grateful for my small life when I'm shopping. But when I can no longer distinguish my voice from that of those around me and I feel bigger for their presence and smaller by contrast, yeah, I'm worshipping.

"As you go, preach this message: 'The kingdom of heaven is near.'"
-Matthew 10:7

"Heaven is whenever we can get together."
-Craig Finn

The shows I go to are frequently crowded. It gets pretty hot. By the end of the show, we have sacrificed our voices to join in the choir, we've been baptized in sweat. The impact of the live show is undeniable. You sing along and realize that everyone else is singing too. We've converged. We've unified.

Maybe not everyone. Maybe it's just entertainment. But if you think that there are folks in the pews on Sunday who are there for anything but the show, you should try opening your eyes when you pray. Music as entertainment doesn't dimish its capacity to be so much more. In fact, it only serves to prove that we live without dogma, that rock shows are the only unitarian churches with a bar.

It's okay to go to a show and just be entertained. Have a beer and a laugh. What's not okay - what I protest - is the notion that a crossless room where the Bibles and sacrements have been left in the closets is no place to find a savior. That the spirit of God can't move in the chorus of "Do You Realize?" by the Flaming Lips is the worst heresy. The Psalm writers don't own God and I'm pretty sure he'll move wherever he damn well pleases.

Our sacrements are what we say they are. It ain't incense, but it's smoke. Are beer and bottled water so different from wine and cheap grape juice?

I know the script of church and I'm not so naive that I don't see the manipulations of a good rock show. The lights, the use of dynamics, creating dissonance and resolving it give the crowd relief and joy. But I won't begrudge the artist their art when the goal is simply to attain joy.

My confession: I weep, I raise my hands, I embrace my friends at live shows because I am moved to do so. I don't force it and it isn't scripted. I am moved by something other than someone saying the name of the lord and asking me to praise Him. I praise the moment and the undeniable, anonymous spirit that doesn't exist with the house lights on and cold amps.

My celebration? Same thing.

The difference between sacred and secular is the target. The difference between a confession and a celebration is the measure of sin. What is the heresy of joy?

God gave us Hallelujah. Leonard Cohen heard it and Jeff Buckley passed it on.

When Crain Finn sings "We'd like to pray for you," I believe him and I pray too.

When Adam Duritz invites me to "Come Down, Leave your damage behind and gone
So come now, Let's go down to the dance floor," I hear a call to worship.

When Chris Robinson sings, "If your rhythm ever falls out of time, you can bring it to me and I will make it all right," I hear a healer looking to bless the body.

I'm not building false idols. I'm placing no gods before the God of Egypt and Abraham. I'm listening to the joyful voices of the people, raised in unison. I'm looking at the yuppies and the hood rats, the hippies and wallflowers and me and my friends. We're together body and spirit.

I am an Idolater.

I confess to feeling the spirit move among us in houses not built for any Lord.

I celebrate the same.

Hold Fast,
Caulfield