The Alternative Hymnal

because lots of christian music sucks...

Emotional by Paul Kelly

by

Paul Kelly

Only in the centre of imagining can a new world be envisaged, can change by fired, can hope be born, can vision not only prevent the perishing but pump the blood around the heart of a world to bring God’s will on earth as it is in heaven. – Steve Stockman

Title: I Guess I Get A Little Emotional Sometimes
Artist: Paul Kelly
Album: Won’t You Come Around (EP)

The days are getting colder
They stretch before me all in a line
Each night gets a little bit longer
And these stars that once were strange now I call mine
Oh, it’s been so long since I saw her face
And I just can’t find my way out of this place
I took the law into my hands
You’d do the same from where I stand
But the punishment here is much worse than the crime
I guess I get a little emotional sometimes

Each night I light a candle
And I get down on my knees and I pray
My home in ashes I can handle
But not to see my loved ones losing their way
If my tongue sounds lame please don’t turn away
Don’t you see I’m losing it a little bit every day
If you let yourself understand
I’ll give you my heart and hands
Or else the punishment will be much worse than the crime
I know I get a little emotional sometimes
Do you blame me if I get a little emotional sometimes?
Don’t act so surprised if I get a little emotional sometimes

“I can’t just sit down and write a song . . . it has to come from the inside.” – Paul Kelly

If there’s one thing that Walter Brueggemann has taught me to recognise it’s that empires fear books and poets.

There’s something about the poet that can bring down empires and bring new life.

There’s something about the book that can bring to life different memories, and new ways of seeing things… or perhaps they can remind us of past memories that we had forgotten and inspire us to dream of new futures all at the same time.

I believe that there’s something about the song that can do the same, poetry and music, or perhaps music is poetry, either way empires fear them both because one song played by many people can bring down the walls of the most fearful kingdoms.

One of the first things than an Empire does is remove people’s imagination, because without imagination or any idea of an alternative reality one can’t start to hope or believe in another reality. What you find is that over time the death of imagination brings with it a community of hope-less drones that are easy to control.

I’m a firm believer that if we were to look at many of the songs that are sung in our world today we’ll find that they are lacking in vision and in hope, (we) are in a time of oppression. Whether we look at the songs sung in our churches and their fascination with the self and me me me, or with their preoccupation in being melodic and anthemic without actually saying anything of worth at all (and are all about the “feeling” of God or of the Spirit but not about the “reality” of either). Or if we are to look at the music that is hitting our top 100 and their preoccupation with selling a type of reality that is much of the same, commercialist, oppressive, celebratory of the individual’s “right” to do whatever they want whenever they want… just as long as whatever they do is not going to shake the capitalist boat at all.

I need to be continually reminded that music has the power to challenge our reality and to give birth to a possibility that has been kept silent. And I wish that there were more people writing songs that offered alternative realities to the one’s that we’re currently living.

“This Little Light of Mine” is a fun and happy kids song that we safely sing in church, but in a world so immersed in, and drowning in the filthy muck that was apartheid and the injustices being experienced by the African American community in America the song was a molotov cocktail that brought with it the message that everyone has worth.

A child singing this song in church today with some pathetic hand symbols and pithy actions doesn’t bring with it the weight that the song being sung by entire communities of people who had not been given the right to vote, to share community, to eat in certain restaurants or use particular toilets because of the colour of their skin did. Somehow we have forgotten that our vision for the world is fuelled by our imaginations, and that the songs we choose to sing and write have a direct link to our lack or abundance of hope and imagination.

As I said before, a song being sung by enough people has the power to bring down empires.

This song by Paul Kelly was written after he’d read a number of news articles about the Baktiyari boys and the Woomera detention centre.

The song was, and continues to be an act of hope and subversion that raised people’s imaginations to a point where they could believe in a reality that detention centres did not exist. Yes, they still exist now, perhaps we still need to sing the song, perhaps we need to be inspired again and to begin to have visions of a time and place where these centres are only a memory, a distant memory of days gone by.

If a song sung by enough people could bring down the walls of a kingdom perhaps surely it can bring down the razor wire and political crap that surrounds our current immigration and refugee policies and detention centres?

Every time I hear this song I’m reminded of a time that doesn’t exist yet, I’m given the hope to dream and to act, to write another letter of opposition, to imagine.

This is one of the gifts that Paul Kelly brings to the table as a poet and musician.

I think we all need to get a little emotional…

I think it’s about time that we not settle for the unimaginative, bland, commercial music that lacks any alternative vision of the world we live in and start to fill our ipods with music that re-invigorates and re-energises our souls, that fill us with a sense that the world that we currently live in needs to change, that makes us cry (but not only because our ears are bleeding) and laugh and yell and get angry and dance new dances…

I think it’s time that our churches start to sing songs that act like molotov cocktails, blasting through our bland concepts of the gospel and truly start to remind us of the true reality of the Kingdom of God.

Less Katy Perry and more Paul Kelly

Less Gaga and more Tracy Chapman

Less Bieber and more John Butler

Less Usher and more Ani Difranco

Less Hillsong and more Valley Songs

“The practice of such poetic imagination is the most subversive, redemptive act that a leader of a faith community can undertake in the midst of exiles. This work of poetic alternative in the long run is more crucial than one-on-one pastoral care or the careful implementation of institutional goals. That is because the work of poetic imagination holds the potential of unleashing a community of power and action that finally will not be contained by any imperial restrictions and definitions of reality.” – Walter Brueggemann in his book “Hopeful Imagination“

To Her Door by Paul Kelly (part 2)

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200px-PK_THDSong: To Her Door
Album: Under The Sun
By: Paul Kelly

They got married early, never had no money
Then when he got laid off they really hit the skids
He started up his drinking, then they started fighting
He took it pretty badly, she took both the kids
She said: “I’m not standing by, to watch you slowly die
So watch me walking, out the door”
She said, “Shove it, Jack, I’m walking out the fucking door”

She went to her brother’s, got a little bar work
He went to the Buttery, stayed about a year
Then he wrote a letter, said I want to see you
She thought he sounded better, she sent him up the fare
He was riding through the cane in the pouring rain
On Olympic to her door

He came in on a Sunday, every muscle aching
Walking in slow motion like he’d just been hit
Did they have a future? Would he know his children?
Could he make a picture and get them all to fit?
He was shaking in his seat riding through the streets
In a silvertop to her door

There’s some songs that seem to grab the imagination and allow us to join in on the action, some stories that capture the heart of those who hear it and some characters that remind us of something within ourselves.

To Her Door (released in 1987) is a song that will most likely forever be etched in the minds and hearts of (most) Australians, it’s a tune that drags you into another place, another story, another person’s life, just the sound of the first four chord changes opens the floodgates and lets the memories loose.

Whether this song is a Psalm or a Parable… or something quite different though is up for grabs (at least in my mind). Yesterday I reflected on the psalm, tonight however I’ll write of the parable…

In his book “The Orthodox Heretic” Pete Rollins asks:

“How to speak of something that cannot be said?

Is this dilemma not simultaneously both the obstacle and the opening for those who write of, and wrestle with the sacred? Is this confrontation with the abyss of the unspeakable not what makes such a writer’s job both possible and impossible at the same time, enticing the readers to step beyond, into the beyond where one cannot step?”

I really wish that I could write the entirety of the introduction to his book here and now, but I can’t. Pete’s introduction does make me wonder if I should also follow his example and instead of using the title “parable” I should use the title “tale” in writing of this song.

To Her Door is probably one of the most well known Australian modern tales, it’s a part of who we are, it speaks of love, of family, of difficulties, of the depths of our hopelessness, of relationships, of the possibility of redemption, of forgiveness and of hope.

In a way, it speaks of something that cannot be said, which is possibly why it’s sung.

In Christian circles we tell a story of a family torn apart by a son’s request for his part of his inheritance before it’s due. The story tells of how he took his share from his father and left the family business to live the good life. The tale tells of a father’s grace and ability to hope and forgive while at the same time it tells of a son’s arrogance, frailness and failures. The tale is about a lot of things, forgiveness, confession, grace, family, life choices, community and much more.

In this tale penned by Paul Kelly we are introduced to a couple who are living with a number of hopes and dreams, it’s a story of love through hardship, hope in times where it must be difficult to hope, strength where many may have given up and of faithfulness where others may have lost faith. Like the tale that we may tell together at church it’s about broken relationships and the lingering hope that reconciliation is possible.

One of the strengths of this tale is that it skips the normal conventions, we’re not unfamiliar with the concept of broken families, of relationships that have difficulties and of young love that seems to get harder when life piles on it’s stresses and hardships. Pop songs sing of broken relationships all the time, but they don’t seem to dwell on anything deeper than “I miss you” or “I’ll get over you” or perhaps “I’m moving on to someone better.” Pop songs don’t dwell on the realities behind these broken relationships, instead they focus on the “you should have put a ring on it” or “I just moved onto someone different,” it’s in these pop songs that we’re sold an ideal that relationships are all about either immediate gratification or about being together when times are good… but what about the times when life completely sucks and we have to wake up next to each other day to day knowing that it’s not going to get any better than this for a long time?

This tale celebrates the woman’s point of view as a prophetic voice that stands up for both herself and the children, and in turn the one she loves “I’m not standing by, to watch you slowly die” is a prophetic call, a strong voice, an action that, when this song is sung in public becomes almost anthemic, yes… sometimes love means that we need to be angry enough, honest enough and concerned enough to do something about it, and yes, sometimes that means leaving. But we know that this is not the end of the story, that somehow this woman finds the strength to continue going, to look after the family and to continually hope that her love will find a way out of the hole that he’s found himself in, she doesn’t seem to cut off ties, instead, much like the father in the tale told above it seems that she waits in hope and in anticipation that her love will find himself again. When he sends her a letter it’s not thrown on the fire or thrown out, instead it’s read and money is forwarded for him to return.

Parables never seem to end the way that popular thought would have them end, there’s usually a twist in the tale somewhere that takes us by shock or surprise. Where we might hear this couple’s story we could be forgiven to believe that it’s doomed to fail, that the split will be forever. After all, the rest of our the world says that it’s all over, that it was never going to be forever anyway why would this relationship ever survive?

In the end this tale never fully resolves, and we as onlookers are left with the task to complete the story in our own minds… did he get to paint a picture and get them all to fit? Did it all work out? What happened? What did he say when the cab finally arrived? How did she greet him? What happened two years down the track? Do people change?

Many of Paul’s songs sing of reconciliation and redemption, whether it be the looking towards that redemption, the hoping for reconciliation or the lack of hope or fulfillment of both. As this series continues I’m going to suggest that these two themes will appear again and again, and each time we’ll hear another story, another perspective, open another door and ask different questions of ourselves. tonight however, after it’s all said and done, after I’m reminded again and again in this tale that even the most broken of relationships hold a chance of being reconciled, and I guess that I’m left to struggle with the question of, am I a person who believes in hope?

To Her Door by Paul Kelly

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200px-PK_THDSong: To Her Door
Album: Under The Sun
By: Paul Kelly

They got married early, never had no money
Then when he got laid off they really hit the skids
He started up his drinking, then they started fighting
He took it pretty badly, she took both the kids
She said: “I’m not standing by, to watch you slowly die
So watch me walking, out the door”
She said, “Shove it, Jack, I’m walking out the fucking door”

She went to her brother’s, got a little bar work
He went to the Buttery, stayed about a year
Then he wrote a letter, said I want to see you
She thought he sounded better, she sent him up the fare
He was riding through the cane in the pouring rain
On Olympic to her door

He came in on a Sunday, every muscle aching
Walking in slow motion like he’d just been hit
Did they have a future? Would he know his children?
Could he make a picture and get them all to fit?
He was shaking in his seat riding through the streets
In a silvertop to her door

“I’m sort of aware where certain songs are written a few years apart from each other – ‘To Her Door,’ then ‘Love Never Runs on Time’ and ‘How To Make Gravy’ – I’ve got a feeling it’s the same guy. He keeps coming back.”

Maybe he’ll be in a happier place next time? “Yeah, he’s a bit of a fuck-up, that guy,” – Paul Kelly

There’s some songs that seem to grab the imagination and allow us to join in on the action, some stories that capture the heart of those who hear it and some characters that remind us of something within ourselves.

To Her Door (released in 1987) is a song that will most likely forever be etched in the minds and hearts of (most) Australians, it’s a tune that drags you into another place, another story, another person’s life, just the sound of the first four chord changes opens the floodgates and lets the memories loose.

Whether this song is a Psalm or a Parable… or something quite different though is up for grabs (at least in my mind). Perhaps tonight I’ll write of the psalm and tomorrow I’ll write of the parable?

As a psalm it inspires in us an optimism that is rare for many of us, a sense of hope that embraces and overcomes us and memories of times where love stories were hopeful and had content.

No, this isn’t your typical Whitney Housten love song, not a song that you’ll find being sung to the crowd by Lady Gaga, it’s not a song that you’ll regularly hear being pumped out by the pop ballad or love song institutions that promote a sense of relationships being something that comes and goes, love that is powerful but always leaves, a sense that love is about a “feeling” that is as temperamental and vague as “sung” by Ashlee Simpson or Katy Perry

This Psalm is more than that, it’s full of crap, of pain and of real life, it recognises that life sometimes sucks, that love sometimes means saying “you need to go” that sometimes we do stuff up and hurt those around us, that family life is sometimes full of struggle and, (as Paul Turley wrote) “ruin.” Yes, sometimes love is about hope and ruin, hope and ruin, but not in the way that hope always comes before ruin, but in many cases for us hope follows ruin, that even in the darkest of times, the loneliness of times hope still has power to not only speak to us but also to urge us on.

As Paul Kelly will sing many years later: “Love can suffer hardship, Love is tough and kind, Love is never envious or puffed up with pride…”

This Psalmist knows what love is, he’s tasted it, experienced it, looked upon it and this soon reminds us that, even though we’re surrounded by some lollypop candy vision of love there’s always going to be something deeper than that.

But the Psalmist’s role is not just to sing, it’s to write Psalms that others can sing together, to author lyrics and paint images that haunt us, to invite us on a journey together that will never really be complete until we all join in together. Yes, the Psalmist’s role is to inspire us all to stand and sing together.

To sing of love, of hope, of ruin and then again of love ruin and hope, it’s impossible to sing of the ruin without the hope and love or hope without the ruin and love, and of course real love will always be a part of the chorus. Not so we can sing this song alone, but as a community, as anyone who has heard this song pop up at karaoke or a live performance will know, this song is best sung together as we each remember our own stories of brokenness and of times where we found it difficult or next to impossible to get right.

Together this Psalm inspires in us a sense of hope that in today’s world seems alien sometimes, we’re used to love stories fucking up, we see this all to often, our televisions, our cinemas, our theatres and our ipods all preach to us a message, a false-story that love always comes and goes, that it’s never forever, that the ideal is never going to be forever.

Or is it that the other false-psalmists are trying to inspire us into a space where love is never broken, love is never hard, love is never going to give you headaches or fart in your bed?

So… Here we are, the final stanza of the psalm beginning to ring in our ears and together we all raise our voices in hope, we’ve experienced the ruin, we’ve felt the pain, we know all to real that love is hard, that sometimes life just completely rips us apart and leaves us kicked to the curb but that can’t be the end of the story, no, love has to have the last work….

Surely love will have the last word?

Here we are…

Every muscle aching…

Standing behind this stranger, this family that knows of the ruin and together we sing with hope, together we chant, together we cheer, together we stand up and say “this can’t be the end of the story and we will sing for you, we will hope again, we will believe in you!”

Perhaps it’s a good thing that we’re never really told the ending of the story (although, as the quote at the beginning of this post suggests to us perhaps we know this man a little better than we all may think, perhaps we are invited into his continuing story over time) because this psalm reminds us of oh so much, inspires in us a hope that drowns out our cynical and sarcastic default positions and reminds us that hope is still here, that love can survive the struggle, that sometimes all we need to do is have the courage to either send someone the fair or to jump in a taxi cab.

Or… that sometimes we need to be singing in other people’s ears the hope that we’re reminded of in this song and acknowledging the ruin for what it is… real and tangible, for this story wouldn’t be a psalm without either of them.

I think I need to go back and listen to this song, and be reminded of all of this again.

Just About To Break by Paul Kelly

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Nothing.But.A.DreamSong: Just About To Break (iTunes)
Artist: Paul Kelly
Album: Nothing But a Dream

Handle me with care
I’m the answer to your prayer
I come from the great nowhere
Step back! Give me some air
I’m just about to break
I’m just about to break
I’m just about to break

I’ve been dreaming some
I’m a sleeping time bomb
When I wake it won’t take long
I’ll hit from here to kingdom come
I’m just about to break
I’m just about to break
I’m just about to break

They’re gonna want to analyse me
Canonise and demonise me
Buy the rights and serialise me
Moralize and sermonise against me
I’m just about to break
I’m just about to break
I’m just about to break

I’m gonna rock your head
Start a burning in your bed
I’m making gold from lead
Multiplying fish and bread
I’m just about to break
I’m just about to break
I’m just about to break

My philosophy’s eclectic
Things round here are gonna get hectic
There’s no defense ’cause I got no tactics
I sing the body electric
I’m just about to break
I’m just about to break
I’m just about to break

The thunderstorm is just above
Every heart one day must cry enough
I’m heavensent to spill my stuff
My heart, my hear is full of love
I’m just about to break
I’m just about to break
I’m just about to break

‘Heavensent To Spill My Stuff’

This song has been spinning in my head this Palm Sunday and the lead up to Easter. There is something about the Bible going into real time this week, that plays with my spirit. So not being an expert of Paul Kelly (just a fan really) I am overlaying my framework of this week on his writings. Of course I also would argue that this is what we all do anyway – just without the preamble.

Those who know me would have heard my rants about Palm Sunday and practicing ‘missing the point’ in our churches. I guess in following the Holy week this year, I am reflecting on the Monday after Palm Sunday.

In Mark 11, you will see that on Sunday Jesus comes in “triuphantly” (inspired headings of the bible) into Jerusalem as the ‘answer to your prayer ..from the great nowhere.’ But he does not take over powers of empire etc but does a quick reconnaissance of the temple and heads off to Bethany.

Jesus’ teachings and his way has ‘rocked our heads‘ and we are all impressed by the ‘multiplying fish and bread’. Following his way is excit ing and confronting being a part of building a better world based on radical love. Certainly if any figure in history has been ‘canonised, demonised, moralised, sermonised’ (here even) ’sold the rights and serialised’, it is Jesus.

On monday he returns and trashes the temple, much ‘like a sleeping time bomb‘ and a ‘heart crying enough!’ he confronts oppressive exploitative religion.

So what about us? Are we about to break? When and over what issue will our hearts cry enough? To be heaven sent to spill our stuff?

Maybe it was the Close the Gap actions last week or the indigenous focused preamble of the UCA (and the discussions surrounding it) or maybe just Paul Kelly’s continuing reflections on aboriginal injustice but I found myself thinking, “when will our heart cry enough!”. When will we find a way to recognise the first people in this land and close the gap. Is this just my response? Probably. As I write, my inbox has emails about human traffiking, peace activism, Non Violent Direct Action, human shields groups and global poverty engagements. So I know that people are called to various causes and I find a sense of admiration (maybe a bit of jealously) for people who are fully engaged in the issue that caused them to break. Yes, I am talking about my peace buddies, youth workers, social workers, those adopting orphanages and rehab centres OS and here in Australia.

I am certain that those that have found their issues, like Jesus, act because their ‘heart is full of love‘ for people and they did break. Hearts break over people. They don’t have the answers, they don’t have ‘tactics’ but they act because they did break.

God broke and Jesus broke for us. God’s love for us was revealed in Jesus at Easter by the cost he faced, the life he lived and the grace we know.

Happy Easter – I pray we’re about to break.

Written by Adrian Greenwood
url: MorePraxis

From Little Things Big Things Grow

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ComedySong: From Little Things, Big Things Grow..
By Kev Karmody and Paul Kelly
Album: Comedy


Buy on Amazon.com: Comedy

Buy on iTunes:

Video: Kev Carmody from the Documentary “Blood Brothers”

Gather round people let me tell you’re a story
An eight year long story of power and pride
British Lord Vestey and Vincent Lingiarri
Were opposite men on opposite sides

Vestey was fat with money and muscle
Beef was his business, broad was his door
Vincent was lean and spoke very little
He had no bank balance, hard dirt was his floor

From little things big things grow
From little things big things grow

Gurindji were working for nothing but rations
Where once they had gathered the wealth of the land
Daily the pressure got tighter and tighter
Gurindju decided they must make a stand

They picked up their swags and started off walking
At Wattie Creek they sat themselves down
Now it don’t sound like much but it sure got tongues talking
Back at the homestead and then in the town

From little things big things grow
From little things big things grow

Vestey man said I’ll double your wages
Seven quid a week you’ll have in your hand
Vincent said uhuh we’re not talking about wages
We’re sitting right here till we get our land
Vestey man roared and Vestey man thundered
You don’t stand the chance of a cinder in snow
Vince said if we fall others are rising

From little things big things grow
From little things big things grow

Then Vincent Lingiarri boarded an aeroplane
Landed in Sydney, big city of lights
And daily he went round softly speaking his story
To all kinds of men from all walks of life

And Vincent sat down with big politicians
This affair they told him is a matter of state
Let us sort it out, your people are hungry
Vincent said no thanks, we know how to wait

From little things big things grow
From little things big things grow

Then Vincent Lingiarri returned in an aeroplane
Back to his country once more to sit down
And he told his people let the stars keep on turning
We have friends in the south, in the cities and towns

Eight years went by, eight long years of waiting
Till one day a tall stranger appeared in the land
And he came with lawyers and he came with great ceremony
And through Vincent’s fingers poured a handful of sand

From little things big things grow
From little things big things grow

That was the story of Vincent Lingairri
But this is the story of something much more
How power and privilege can not move a people
Who know where they stand and stand in the law

From little things big things grow
From little things big things grow
From little things big things grow
From little things big things grow

The first time I heard this song was on the radio as I drove around in the business of my everyday.. Of course the first thing I noticed was the chorus.. From little things big things grow.. It stuck in my head for days.From little things big things grow.. It really spoke deep into my being.. It felt so much like me.. For a long time this was all I knew about this song.. But it reminded me of my journey..

I had always felt quite small and insignificant.. but over time, I have grown into something much more, more than I ever thought I would become.. It also spoke to me profoundly of what I see of this guy Jesus. He was just a guy going round his place telling people about what he knew of God.. One person at a time, one day at a time.. No big deal, no super movement, just one little thing that grew into something so much more..

From Little things, big things grow..
From little things big things grow

The next time this song would really connect in with me was at the Live Earth Concert in 2007. We were at the Sydney Football stadium and Paul Kelly and a bunch of other Aussie muso’s performed it together in front of 45,000 people (I am so grateful for google!).. It was then that I heard the story of Vincent Lingiarri, in this song.. Yet it was the experience of being amongst 45,000 people who were all there wanting to do their bit to make a difference to the environment, that set down new meaning for me, keeping that chorus ringing in my ears.. There were times at this concert where the muso’s would turn down the sound (at one point I think the power went out!) and you could here the 45,000 voices singing their, maybe mildly inebriated, voices as one.. It was so powerful, each of these people individually were nothing, didn’t even feel like a drop in the ocean, you couldn’t hear the person beside you say anything, but together, together it was so powerful it brought tears to my eyes and it gave me hope.. The little ones do matter, and don’t stop doing your little bit because you might not notice it but together it makes a hugely powerful difference..

From Little things, big things grow..
From little things big things grow

The most recent time this song has re entered my life was at my ordination, it had spoken so deeply to me of my journey, how it had been the daily movement of God, the daily following of the still small voice, the keep taking each step ahead and trust that God will lead the way, I never thought that being ordained would be where I would end up and yet there I was.. totally where I never expected to be.. Something big had grown out of the small again..

I must confess I struggled with whether to include the song or not, because I didn’t want to disrespect Vincent Lingiarri’s story and struggle.. But for me my ordination wasn’t just about this Anglo church saying that they wanted me to be a minister in their church, I hoped ,I begged that the call of being a spiritual leader was to this place this land, not because I felt I needed to tell or lead any one to anything but I desperately want this call to be a wholistic one.. See I believe I am not whole in my faith, till my indigenous sisters and brothers are whole and I am not whole till those who have just come to call this place of ours home are whole. Australian Faith won’t be truly Australian faith until we all get to talk together because none of us know the whole picture..

I love this place,
I love these people.

These people, those who have been here for thousands of years and those who have been here for only a little while.. The good, the bad, the ugly, some of it fills me with great pride and some fills me with great disappointment and shame.. But it is the truth of who we are.. In the end I think that is the call of God, the life of Jesus, the truth teller, who isn’t afraid to speak of things as they are.. Sometimes acknowledging that happens quickly, sometimes it takes a lot longer than it should.. But that is the journey..

From Little things, big things grow..
From little things big things grow

I now have a call, a call to help God’s people to live their faith a bit differently, in a way that speaks to our people, that connects with our people, in this land.. I know it is not the first time and it won’t be the last..

“But forget all that-
it is nothing compared to what I am going to do.
19 For I am about to do something new.
See, I have already begun! Do you not see it? (Isaiah 43:18 – 19)

Vincent Lingiarri’s story now seems very apt, his story gives me hope. It is a long journey, and there are many temptations on the way, distractions and shortcuts which would be easy to take, but the call is bigger than that and more important than all the temptations offered and I will learn from my brother Vincent just how to wait.. and I know that if I fall, others are rising.. It is from little things that big things will grow..

So I suppose I return to the beginning about why this song appeals to me in the first place.. I believe this is just how God works.. It’s not in the ranting and the raving of power, or the manipulating and appeal to people’s greed or ego, or even fixing the short term problem, it is the still small voice that puts it out there for who ever to hear, using people with faults, mistakes and stutters to become great leaders to change the world, not in big ways but by patient one day at a time walking with God..

Vincent Lingiarri’s story resonates with the stories of the prophets in the Old Testament in the bible for me, people struggling and suffering and not being heard, God raises up a leader but not the sort of leader that you would expect, not a great wordsmith, or debater, or political giants or a charismatic wonder person. Just an ordinary person who knows it is time to make a stand.. He is one of my home grown prophets, a great leader of God (I hope he doesn’t mind me saying that).. God’s spirit does move powerfully in this land.. I look forward to a lifetime of learning more about our God from all our people.. and I look forward to a day when power and privilege will not move a people, but justice and hope will come for all through the land..

From little things big things grow
From little things big things grow
From little things big things grow

Written by Karen Mitchell-Lambert
Minister: Cromer Uniting Church, NSW

Cities of Texas by Paul Kelly

by

Foggy HighwayTitle: Cities of Texas
Artist: Paul Kelly
Album: Foggy Highway

I am the wind without a name
I have been blowing long before you came
I am the wind no-one calls
I see your towers rise and fall
Cities of Texas, my lovely ones
Cities of Texas, shining in the sun
I am the wind no-one knows
Out from your deserts, down from your melting snows
Over the ocean right across your land
I turn your high glass back to shifting sand
Cities of Texas, my lovely ones
Cities of Texas, shining in the sun
Cities of Texas
Cities of Texas
Cities of Texas
Cities of Texas

We need a new psalter; a new book of psalms. And it’s not that the old one is finished. That ancient collection of Hebrew cries of joy and pain, songs of justice and revenge, and poems of hope, despair, rage and confusion is as powerful and relevant now as it ever was. What we need – since despair, rage and confusion are still abroad in the land and are as healthy as ever – are more songs, more poems, more cries of anguish. We need more psalms.

If anyone is taking notes for the new psalter, I vote for including Paul Kelly’s Cities of Texas.
It’s a simple psalm that, like many of the great Hebrew psalms, sings out ruin and hope.
And that is how it goes, ruin and hope, ruin and hope. And that is how it has always gone. Civilizations rise and fall and their cities with them. Sumer has gone and Larsa and Sippar. The Inca have gone and Machu Picchu. The Babylonians and Babylon have gone too, and Rome and Berlin and Moscow and London; all gone or going in their time. And now, in this American Century, who can doubt that New York, L.A, Washington and the cities of Texas will go too; are even now, given the debt levels of the US, on borrowed time? literally

But how can that be? Have you seen the cities of Texas? They not only shine in the sun, they claim the night sky outshining the stars. They are the lovely ones.

It’s too easy in our days to say, country good; city bad. But for every person for whom cities are the urban jungle from which they long to escape, there is someone else eager to see the bright lights and soak up the energy, culture and the freedom of anonymity.

And in ancient times too cities were not only places of cultural hope, they were also places of personal safety. The Cities of Refuge in ancient Israel were the places to run to, places where there was reprieve and time to seek truth, justice and mercy. And when the author of Revelations was tripping on his version of Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds, the shining city was his chosen picture of all that is glorious. Built of crystal and gold, truly the city on the hill where crying and pain would be done with.

But Mr Kelly is not from “Deep in the Heart of Texas,” where “The stars at night, are big and bright,” He’s from elsewhere. He’s an outsider. And sometimes outsiders write the best stuff. Kelly is an Adelaide boy, that polite Edwardian town with its skirts in the warm waters of the Gulf St Vincent and its back to the wind blown desert. An outsider town in the world of Rock and Roll where, in Australia, musical genius is said to reside in Sydney and Melbourne, and, every now and then, Brisbane. And all of those who have lived on the edge of empire – like the Hebrew psalmists themselves, like Jesus, like MLK, like the early Punks – they see things differently. For Kelly, the cities of Texas when he finally does see “Dallas from a DC9,” aren’t the Cities of Refuge: Texas executes more of its prison population than any other state of the Union. Neither are they done with crying: laws that allow Texans to carry concealed handguns makes cities with more pain to come, a lot more. And the cities of Texas are not the cities on the hill, the light to the nations. Their foundations are not on mountain bedrock but on rapidly shrinking lakes of oil.

And so these cathedral towers that look like they will last until the end of the earth will, if even the most optimistic oilman is right, now fall in decades. And maybe even now they are held together only by the wishful hoping of the ignorant and the callous exploitation of the feckless. They might look like sparking crystal but their crystal is only glass; sand fused by heat. And soon enough they will be sand once more.

And only the sand and the wind will remain. The un-named and un-owned wind. In the cities of Texas where ownership and control is all, the wind blows in an ancient story that is long forgotten; even the masters of the universe cannot own the wind. Not a Texan wind, not Californian or Mexican, it comes from the oceans and the mountains; the bits of the earth we have not yet managed to fully colonize and bend to our will. This wind does not know or care that the Rio Grande, with its never-static course is, for a time, a national border. The wind cares not a fig for the death and blood that have drawn, rubbed out and redrawn a line on a map, a line that now is a barbwire fence patrolled to keep out people who for generations roamed north and south of all these lines. This wind is indifferent to the dreams of nations. It blows, as Jesus noted, where it will and that is all we know. It takes the long view, and in the long view all that we have made and unmade is just half a heartbeat in the long life of the planet. The wind was here, the wind will be here, blessed be the un-namable wind.

So what’s a poor boy to do? Sing baby, sing. That is the psalmist’s job. Sing of despair and the end of things but sing too for the cycle of life, the great turning. Sand to sand again. Dust to dust.

And who knows, perhaps as we all sing and as we, maybe even in Texas, finally put our windmills and wind farms up to the wind’s glory, we might glimpse the truth that we too, like all other creatures, are part of the rhythm of the world.

And perhaps we will come to ourselves. No longer to be aliens and foreigners for whom the earth is quarry and dump but to be the lovely ones who stand in the unknown and unnamed wind that comes not at the turn of a tap or the summoning of our alchemy but as as it always has: as the mysterious gift of the planet and of the planet maker.

Written by: Paul Turley
url: www.dailyheadspa.com

Meet Me In The Middle of The Air by Paul Kelly

by

Foggy Highway
Song: In the middle of the air
by Paul Kelly
Album: Foggy Highway
Movie Tom White Soundtrack

i am your true shepherd
i will leave you there
beside still waters
come and meet me in the middle of the air
i will meet you in the middle of the air

i will lay you down
in pastures green and fair
every soul shall be restored
i will meet them in the middle of the air
come and meet me in the middle of the air

through the lonesome valleys
my rod and staff you’ll bear
fear not deaths dark shadows
come and meet me in the middle of the air
i will meet you in the middle of the air

with oil i shall annoint you
the table i shall prepare
your cup will runneth over
come and meet me in the middle of the air
i will meet you in the middle of the air

in my house you’ll dwell forever
ye shall not want for care
surely goodness and mercy will follow you
come and meet me in the middle of the air
i will meet you in the middle of the air

come and meet me in the middle of the air
i will meet you in the middle of the air

come and meet me in the middle of the air
i will meet you in the middle of the air

i will meet you in the middle of the air

“
The Bible’s always been there, it’s always bubbling up in my songs, one way or another. The Bible’s got everything. Tarantino can’t touch it – it’s got violence and heroism and great pettiness, wisdom, whim, grandeur and vindictiveness.” – Paul Kelly

I know that it’s a bit of a cliche to begin with this song…

To be honest, I’d planned on writing about it at the end of June, but it seems appropriate now that, instead of ending I begin with it. Psalm 23, which is a part of the inspiration behind this song is often used in funerals, it’s a Psalm that often brings with it a sense of comfort and a lot of emotion.

You see… This past week my grandmother died, and this song has kept me company over the week as I remember her life and, as I think of my family who I can’t be with at the moment.

There’s definitely something about this Psalm, this song that drags one into an openness to one’s emotions, it’s a sacred song, a sacred Psalm that triggers something deep down inside each of us.

Megan Washington recently told the audience at one of the recent Paul Kelly tribute concerts:

“I first heard this song when my mother brought Foggy Highway home and she gave it to me (mum’s always giving me heaps of music) and I had it on in the car and was listening to it the whole way home, (I don’t know if you guys know, but it’s the last track on that album just in case you were wondering) and it came on and I pulled the car onto the side of the road and I just wept“

But there’s something else going on here, and I’m not too sure how many people would have picked it up. You see, the title, the lyrics “meet me in the middle of the air” brings with it a long history of songs…

Bob Dylan and Blind Willie Johnson once sang a song titled “In my time of dying” in which they sing

“Well, meet me, Jesus, meet me,
Meet me in the middle of the air.
If these wings should fail me, Lord,
Won’t you meet me with another pair”

Johnny Cash in his song “Ain’t no grave” sang:

“Well meet me Jesus, meet me
Meet me in the middle of the air
And if these wings don’t fail me
I will meet you anywhere”

The Tea Party in their song “Sun Going Down” sing:

“I said “Jesus, won’t you meet me in the middle of the air?
I think my wings are falling below Jesus, I need another pair
Jesus, Won’t you meet me in the middle of the air
I think my wings are falling below I need another pair””

And Led Zeppelin sing:

“Jesus, gonna make up my dyin’ bed.
Meet me, Jesus, meet me. Meet me in the middle of the air
If my wings should fail me, Lord. Please meet me with another pair”

The list doesn’t end there, but poets from Woody Guthrie to Dylan through to Kelly have adopted this line, that describes the space where we’re invited to encounter God, “the middle of the air.” It’s an amazing line, and one that I hope will continue to find it’s way into the lyrics of songs in the future, a line that describes a space where God’s presence is able to engage with us.

And it’s into this space that Paul’s song invites us… Where Heaven and Earth intersect.

I’ll let this post end here for now, slightly unresolved as I think I need to return to it at a later time to do it justice.

How have you experienced this song?

What has it meant to you?

What emotions has it triggered?

Can you remember the first time that you heard this song?