"If he was singing about God, why was he being so angry about it?"

Presbyterian pastor and musician Steve Lindsley offers a reflection on what it was like for him to discover U2's War, on the occasion of the album's 30th anniversary.

Coolness and detachment, or heart on the sleeve?

A piece from the Image Journal blog riffing on "being uncool" as something characteristic of U2 and, perhaps, an indicator of the importance of narrative spiritual nonfiction. HT to our friends at Interference who published an edited version of the piece.

The Call to Follow

Here is a thoughtful reflection by Jennifer Luitwieler drawing on her experience of hearing "I Will Follow" as a teen at a youth-church gathering and discovering "a dense and wrought musical language that combined faith and cool like nothing I’d ever seen... a middle ground that allowed me to engage both my intellect and my emotions to approach an idea about God."

Back in 2008 I noted on this blog the title of an upcoming U2-related paper being presented at the Society of Biblical Literature. Recently discovered that this paper, The Bible under the Joshua Tree by Andrew Davies, is now available on the SBL website. Some well-worn comments, some new insights. Excerpt:

It is almost, then, as if [Bono] felt he wanted to write scripture in the process of rereading it to deliver a new psalter for his generation that combined the pathos of lament with prophetic fury to rage against (what he saw as) the injustice endemic in God’s own country. And if in this imagination Bono is the new epic biblical poet, then 1980s America is, for The Joshua Tree, biblical Israel: a chosen, special nation, led by a noble and respected leader who, tragically, only rarely managed to live up to expectations but was seduced by other priorities; a land set apart from the others by its inherent nature, afforded the opportunity to be bigger and better, but often failing in its fundamental remit; a people who were once enslaved and are now free, but still wandering through their own wilderness in the quest for their home whilst still carrying the wounds of their oppression. The Joshua Tree conceived America’s journey in forthrightly biblical language and imagery and observed that it was still a nation in the wilderness.

I had marked this post about a visit to Northern Ireland to link quite some time ago, but lost track of it. So here it is, better late than never.  The author reflects on learning about the Troubles as a tourist, how it led him to return to U2's War album, and the idea of participating in Scripture.

I just heard about a new article called "Soundtracks of Acrobatic Selves: Fan-Site Religion in the Reception and Use of the Music of U2," which appears in the October 2011 issue of The Journal of Contemporary Religion. Free viewing of the actual text isn't possible for 12 more months (even from within an academic gateway with a subscription, it seems), but the abstract says that the article analyses 40 pieces posted on a fansite in response to U2 songs, looking at how such online reflection "may contribute to the development of religious/spiritual exploration in contemporary Western societies." The authors are Clive Marsh and Vaughan S. Roberts.

I believe in love.

Here is a brief post from The Scriptorium that takes a look at two possible readings of "God Part II," asking if the song's narrator is sincere or not in the final affirmation of belief in each stanza. Excerpt: Luther spoke of the dramatic tension of the Christian life as one in which believers are simul iustus et peccator —at once fully righteous and fully sinful. This makes no sense, but it sure does explain a lot. On this second reading, Bono’s ‘I’ is sincere throughout, even if he is a hapless, sorry mystery to himself and us.

And all the nations shall stream to it....

For any of you preachers out there who are already preparing for Advent 1, Steve Lindsley has a nice U2 connection with the Isaiah 2:1-5 reading. I had some trouble finding an eschatological vibe in the Vertigo Tour iteration of "Streets," and Steve's remarks about the flags are helpful.

While we're considering sermons, Tim Neufeld has a post on a sermon he recently preached using "Still Haven't Found." I especially like the litany of questions.

"sometimes with great fear and resistance, yet filled with opportunity and liminality"

Here's a nice reflection on "October," including a specially edited period video performance/interview, by Tim Neufeld.

Finishing the race strong

When we began collecting submissions for Get Up Off Your Knees, it immediately became apparent that a very high number of preachers from all traditions -- though they might not know anything about U2's history, about their stated faith commitments, or about any of their full albums -- sure did know the song "I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For."

I began to suspect, in fact, that one or more illustrations based on it had been spread worldwide by one of those "preacher's helps" services that serves up pre-digested bits of culture to incorporate into your sermons for $39.99 a year. Email after email was arriving in my inbox with submissions that briefly quoted the title and then moved on to the preacher's real topic. Of course, there were also some good sermons on the song -- Steve Stockman's reading in tandem with Philippians 3, and Darlene Pryds' use of it to reflect on the overall seeking spirit of a generation, both made it into the book. If memory serves, we may have said no to one or two other quality submissions simply because we didn't want to overdo references to one title when U2's catalog is so rich in homiletical potential.

At any rate, by the time the book came out I basically never wanted to read another reflection on this song -- and its refrain continues to be, so far as I can see, the most frequently used piece of U2's art in Christian contexts. To avoid redundancy, I've long since stopped linking material here that simply refers to the title or last verse, or uses the song to illustrate the simple idea that "we're all looking for something in life...." I've wondered, in fact, if there can possibly be anything else to say in dialogue with this piece of music.

The current installment of @U2's occasional column Like a Song answers that: Yes. There is definitely more to say in dialogue with this piece of music. Do not miss this soulful, thoughtful, and balanced piece of writing by Matt McGee.

In Ireland, Tuesday’s Grace - NYTimes.com

I've only linked (I think) one of Bono's New York Times columns, but this one gets theological enough with its Bloody Sunday reflections that I'm going to link it: In Ireland, Tuesday’s Grace. Real forgiveness is a distinctive thing, indeed: it's "daylight," as Bono writes. (But doesn't he have the date of the U2 song's birth a year off?)

When Bad Was Good

Here's a personal reflection on "Bad" and lives lost to, and regained from, addiction.

If you can

I drafted a post last summer in honor of what was widely anticipated as the world premiere of "Drowning Man," a never-before-performed song from U2's War album. Since it now looks as if we won't ever get that performance, and since the Advent piece I re-posted on Sunday quoted "Drowning Man," I thought I'd just go on and put the piece up anyway.

What I wanted to share was my theory about the title. As has been frequently remarked, drowning is not mentioned in the lyrics, although there is a quick nod to ocean imagery ("tides and storms.") (Incidentally, this piece looking at the history of water and drowning images in U2 is worth a read if you've never thought about how often such allusions turn up -- and I think they have different resonances in different places. Here I'm only considering the narrow question of this one song's name.)

Until "Unknown Caller," "Drowning Man" had the distinction of being the only U2 song which majored on lyrics obviously intended as the voice of God - who, however, quotes Isaiah along the way. It pictures an earnest Lover reaching out and appealing "take my hand," promising acceptance, steadiness, strength -- "if you can" bring yourself to accept the help and "hold on tightly." But again: why reference someone who is "drowning" for that appeal? Couldn't it apply to any addressee in any situation?

Well, here's what often seems plausible to me. I wager that the choice of a "drowning man" to characterize the addressee of the song may actually be a literary allusion. I would not be surprised to learn that this title draws on a striking and memorable image of the need to surrender completely to grace found in The Normal Christian Life, the best known work of early-U2-influence Watchman Nee:

When you are reduced to utter weakness and are persuaded that you can do nothing whatever, then God will do everything. We all need to come to the point where we say: 'Lord, I am unable to do anything for Thee, but I trust Thee to do everything in me.'

I was once staying in a place in China with some twenty other brothers. There was inadequate provision for bathing in the home where we stayed, so we went for a daily plunge in the river. On one occasion a brother had cramp in one leg, and I suddenly saw he was sinking fast, so I motioned to another brother, who was an expert swimmer, to hasten to his rescue. But to my astonishment he made no move. So I grew desperate and called out: 'Don't you see the man is drowning?' and the other brothers, about as agitated as I was, shouted vigorously too. But our good swimmer still did not move. Calm and collected, he remained just where he was, apparently postponing the unwelcome task. Meantime the voice of the poor drowning brother grew fainter and his efforts feebler. In my heart I said: 'I hate that man! Think of his letting a brother drown before his very eyes and not going to the rescue!'

But when the man was actually sinking, with a few swift strokes the swimmer was at his side, and both were safely ashore. When I got an opportunity I aired my views. 'I have never seen any Christian who loved his life quite as much as you do', I said. 'Think of the distress you would have saved that brother if you had considered yourself a little less and him a little more.' But the swimmer knew his business better than I did. 'Had I gone earlier', he said, 'he would have clutched me so fast that both of us would have gone under. A drowning man cannot be saved until he is utterly exhausted and ceases to make the slightest effort to save himself.'

White as new year's day snow

RTE has been doing a "30 years of U2" event, and in conjunction with this they put up a number of rare U2 radio and TV clips from their archives. Several of these are very early and well worth it purely for the hilarity value, but I do want to comment on one in particular.

Near the bottom of the first page of archives, there's a 5'45" clip where an especially horrifically-mulleted Bono talks to Gay Byrne about the video for "New Year's Day." Byrne asks: why snow? and Bono's response is so arcane as to have made me stop and rewind the player a couple times -- but indicative, I think. Essentially he says that the album they are about to release is titled War but its theme is actually surrender, and "I had this idea of using the snow as a sort of covering. [He explains about flying white flags as a symbol onstage.] And then I thought of the white snow, the ultimate sort of symbol of surrender."

I wonder what percentage of an audience would connect a white covering at all with surrender, much less see snow as its "ultimate symbol"? ("White as snow" is at least a direct quote that has some currency in the culture; this covering/surrender image is wandering around somewhere near the end of a series of conclusions drawn from... I dunno, things like Psalm 51:6-8, Rom 4:7, Rev 7:8-15, Gal 3:26-27 and maybe elsewhere?) It hits me how incredibly abstract, obscure and cerebral this intended symbolic message of the snow in the video is; if a fan independently argued for it on a forum, they'd probably be mocked for grasping at straws.

I sure never would have thought of snow = white covering = surrender, but for one thing, perhaps it throws a little more light on what's going on with the long-time live pairing of "Until the End of The World" and "New Year's Day."

Lessons

Jonathan Blundell shares a list of 10 spiritual lessons he has learned from U2, drawing on songs as far back as "Rejoice" and as recent as "Breathe." He asks his readers for additions, and I thought I'd make a few, focusing mostly on things it seems to me are especially characteristic of the band's message (i.e. not generic spiritual truths). Here's a quick list of some prominent U2 Lessons off the cuff (more input welcome):

-- "When I was three, I thought the world revolved around me. I was wrong." Or, to quote Rick Warren, "it's not about you." The de-centering of the ego, of the presuppositions, of the self-drama, is lifelong work. One of the good, tedious and therefore useful ways to work towards this is fidelity in community. "If I want to live, I've got to die to myself one day." Another is a sense of proportion in a world in which, say, your icemaker breaking one afternoon is not on a scale with 6000 people dying the same day of malaria. (Also cf the recent interview in which Bono talks about being allergic to people who have one painful thing happen to them and walk with a limp for the rest of their lives.)

-- You could cite so many songs for this one: Surrender is exquisite. Do not be confused by this fact and conclude that surrendering in and of itself is good. Who or what you surrender to is all-important. And yet you must surrender.

-- Listen to what you want. Speak it out until you get to a true statement. When you do, God will be there. "What do you want?" from ZooTV. "I want to tear down the walls that hold me inside." "I want... I want you... I want you to be back tomorrow." "You want heaven, heaven in your heart." "Looking for to fill that God-shaped hole." And then, the mature "I want the lot of what You've got and I want nothing that You're not."

-- "I wanted to meet God and you sold me religion," "love is big... but love is not what you're thinking of," and again, a zillion other lyrics and interviews: Religion is to be distinguished from God. The former is probably about as likely to be an idol and a force for division and hatred as not. Confusing the two can be lethal.

-- "We eat and drink while tomorrow they die," (which I still think is the most brilliant Bible allusion in the entire U2 oeuvre) "with the real battle yet begun: to claim the victory Jesus won." Also related is Bono's: "If you are not committed to the poor, what is religion? It's a black hole." Being a follower of Jesus entails implementing Jesus' victory in the real world. (See next point)

-- KINGDOM NOW! Let's have a little bit of the age to come NOW! Inaugurated eschatology NOW!

-- And finally, a point of personal privilege: When agony comes to you, process it in a mode as similar to "One Tree Hill" as you can muster. Don't give up until you've seen its resolution all the way out at the outer ring. (See above point)

"The sermon I keep preaching and why"

Blogger Steve Lindsley posts about why he keeps preaching on exile, with a couple U2 stops along the way.

One man to overthrow

A thoughtful essay for MLK Day: CADRE Comments: Martin Luther King, Jr., Jesus, Jonah and U2’s 'Pride in the Name of Love'. I agree that trying to identify specific individuals with specific lines in the song is missing the point, but I also think the temptation to ask what analogues to Jesus or MLK those lines evoke is irresistible.

"Van Diemen's Land" is a U2 song I've thought very little about, although I still remember a truly awful sermon using it (and I do mean "using") that was submitted in our book's call for papers. The video that has been circulating of its recent performance in an empty O2 arena brought the piece back to mind for the first time in some years, and out of nowhere it struck me how extremely N.T. Wright-like in its eschatology this couplet is:

A day will come in this dawning age
When an honest man earns an honest wage.
(Wait, you mean in the life of the age to come we'll still have to work? We'll find meaning and reward in our labor? We won't be sitting around on clouds playing harps?)

It almost sounds like one of those "corrected versions" of hymns N.T. Wright so often proffers from the pulpit, after the congregation has sung something like "When Christ shall come with shout of acclamation/and take me home, such joy shall fill my heart." Whereupon Wright cheerfully tells them they really ought instead to be singing "When Christ shall come with shout of acclamation/and heal this world...."

Our contributor and U2 expert in his own right Steve Stockman, who put on the earliest liturgy structured around U2 songs that I've been able to definitely document (back in 1990 - I expect there may have been others earlier, but that's just an educated guess) shares a prayer he wrote years ago, drawing on "I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For." He posts it on the occasion of his involvement in yet another U2 service, 18 years later, in Ballywillan Presbyterian Church, Portrush this past week.

Looking back to look forward

Leading up to the expected release of U2's new album this fall, Josh Hurst is doing some posts on U2's older work. You might want to look at the post on October... or here's a sample of Hurst's interesting take on "U2– The Lost Classics: Zooropa":

"Part of Zooropa’s message is that surfaces can be deceiving, and this song cycle is much more than meets the eye. In fact, it’s the most unified and cohesive album-length statement the band has ever made, and it’s achievement is singular: It’s a concept album about the Prodigal Son, or, as the last song terms him, 'The Wanderer.' More specifically, it’s an album about how we’re all prodigals, lost in a world that’s bent on seeing our demise, and it’s only by the grace of God that any of us stand a chance. The title cut sets the tone, as its druggy, narcotic haze eventually peels back to find Bono reciting some lines from then-current marketing campaigns before revealing the heart of what the album is all about: 'And I have no compass, and I have no map/ And I have no reason, no reason to get back… And I don’t know the limit, the limit to what we’ve got.'"