It all started as a kind of joke that worked both as a self-deprecating dig at the Vestry rats (those of us who hang around the back of the church hoping to score a little extra street cred on the streets that are paved with gold) and a self-deprecating dig at those of us who have too much technology and too few things to do with it. On the first really nice Saturday night in spring, my Sweet Lady and I worked it out so that we could drop Tallulah off at some friends’ house and go on a hot double date with Jesus and Mary Magdalen. The Great Temple has this pre-Easter shin dig that starts with the Dude making fire in a dutch oven and includes a bell ringing flash mob thing. Being short on actual bells but long on iTouchy apps, I proclaimed my intention to go electronic this year.
Before the sun had risen on the Risen Lord, there was buzz all over le Face about the iTucharist. The SubDude had an idea involving Rufus Wainright’s version of “Hallelujah” and although I am partial to the Jeff Buckley version, I have no formal ecclesiastical training and am willing to defer for the time being. I was just starting to wonder if “I am T-Pain” might provide a boost to cantors everywhere when I noticed the date. The fact that this year’s Easter celebration falls on the anniversary of the assassination of Dr. King jarred me out of one kind of reverie and into another.
This reverie was one of somber gratitude. Gratitude for the life of Dr. King and all he said and all he tried to do. Gratitude for the story of the life of Jesus, a story which I know without understanding, which I believe without proof but with plenty of evidence. With a modicum of finger swipes, I added “Hallelujah” to my playlist and “Pride (In the Name of Love)” to my library. These are different kinds of love songs and they point to different kinds of love stories.
They are stories about a love that does foolish things, unexpected things, embarrassing things. They are stories about a love that does not, will not, and cannot fail. These are stories that have been told across the world’s cultures, countries, and religions, but the one told in these songs happens to be the story of which I am a part. And, because it was the SubDude’s idea really, I think these songs should tell this story in our community before Pentecost is done.
There is a specific way we can do this: the U2charist. And I know what you are going to say about this stupid, cheesy, liturgical abomination of an idea, “How can I help make this happen?” I will let you know, if you will let me know that you think this is a good idea. We’re talking about the full on liturgy, hopefully with a full on band. Maybe we tie it to the Katrina anniversary and talk about the fact that the Millenium Development Goals apply to the whole world, including those parts of our own country which are still developing. Just doing a little spit-balling there. The point is: Pritchard Park, or maybe Pack Square, sunny day, rocked out ritual. Total foolishness in the name of love. What more?