“Highway to Hell” kicked off church, I mean, the Grammy’s last night. (Grammy’s 2015)
The Grammy’s impressed again this year, and AC/DC’s “Rock or Bust/Highway to Hell” was the most righteous way to kick it all off, kind of (stay with me, I’ll explain later).
What struck me most wasn’t the kick-ass musical performances, though. What struck me most was that last night the Grammy’s took me church!
As the 3.5 hour spectacle unfurled, performance after performance drew me deeper and deeper into a spiritual experience that so many of us, maybe even all of us deep down, are longing for. When people bare themselves before another — when one’s pains, and questions, and fears, and longings (and joys too!), are vulnerably and courageously shared, I cannot help but to be deeply moved. The artists who bore their souls in the writing and sharing of their songs, including so many of those who performed last night, moved many of us last night — they took me to the kind of church/community/world that I want to be a part of.
Hozier and Sam Smith, and their songs “Take Me to Church” and “Stay with Me (Darkchild Version)”, respectively, sing of a place of deep loneliness and a desire to be loved. Their songs reflect, what I can only imagine to be, a difficult reality that many LGBTQI people face, that of painfully wishing for belonging amidst a still dominant culture (including, sadly, many Christians) that says “they” don’t.
How powerful and important it was to see and hear Hozier and Annie Lennox perform “Take Me to Church/I Put a Spell on You”, with Hozier’s calling out for the oppressive voice that claims LGBTQI are “born sick.” The only knife that needs to be sharpened is the one that will figuratively cut out the tongues that spew hatred. It is, after all, hateful words that really what defile.
How powerful and important it was to see and hear Smith’s performance of “Stay with Me”, with co-writer, Mary J. Blige. They sang of the heartbreak and real desperation to know love, even amidst a one-night stand in which they know the real love they long for is absent. No self-righteous morality police can fix their situation, only someone who is willing to stay with them, to really hear their pain and loneliness, and through silent presence show them they are loved and not alone.
Halfway through the show, President Obama kept the spiritual experience moving. He spoke of the real and systemic problem of sexual assault (domestic and child abuse as well). He invited everyone listening, to take the itsonus.org pledge, “to help keep women and men safe from sexual assault…a promise not to be a bystander to the problem, but to be a part of the solution.” He also spoke directly to those in the music industry about their responsibility to lead in these efforts. Rightfully so. Many in the music industry glorify the objectification of women and even dominant and abusive behavior (At the top of the page, I mentioned AC/DC’s kick-off was the most righteous way to start the show. While I believe AC/DC are rock and roll gods, and certainly do kick ass, they may have a few too many songs that glamorize prostitution, and not enough calling out the horror and systemic problem that is human trafficking.). Obama was followed by Brooke Axtell, a survivor of domestic abuse, who poignantly said these words:
Authentic love does not devalue another human being. Authentic love does not silence, shame or abuse. If you are in a relationship with someone who does not honor and respect you, I want you to know that you are worthy of love. Please reach out for help, your voice will save you … let it part the darkness, let it set you free to know who you truly are — valuable, beautiful, loved.
The spirit of Axtell’s words were echoed in Katy Perry’s, “By the Grace of God,” a song she wrote in the aftermath divorce, when she was in that dark place of contemplating suicide. As grace-filled shadows danced behind, Perry stood tall, singing “I know I am enough — Possible to be loved — It was not about me — Now I have to rise above — Let the universe call the bluff — Yeah, the truth’ll set you free.” Again, abusive and dominant power was called out for the lie it is, and the real power that is vulnerable love showed itself true.
Minnesota’s finest, Prince, introduced the last good word spoken last night when he, speaking of albums, said, “Albums, like books and black lives, still matter.” The Grammy’s spoke the gospel truth that, like sexism and all the other “isms”, racism is a reality that must be addressed in our world. Beyonce, clad in white robes, and backed by a robed choir (come to think of it, there were a lot of church-like choirs last night), beautifully sang Tommy Dorsey’s “Lead Me On, Prescious Lord,” which was followed by “Glory”, performed by John Legend and Common, the climactic hallelujah of the night. Together, Legend and Common sang and rapped the message of Jesus, MLK Jr., and so many who have and continued to struggle for love and justice to be made real in the midst of a world dominated by fear and greed. They called us all to action, “No one can win the war individually…It takes the wisdom of the elders and young people’s energy…”, and closed with these words of hope, that “when the war is done, when it’s all said and done, we’ll cry glory, oh glory!”
Church was going on last night on the Grammy’s. It happened in the baring of one’s soul to another. It didn’t look like robes and smoke. It didn’t look like red-faced bible thumpers. It looked like listening. It looked like questioning with. It looked like celebrating with. It looked like crying with. It looked like hoping with.
It look liked shared humanity.
There is a verse in the the bible, from a letter the apostle Paul wrote to the people of Rome. It says, “do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your minds, so that you may discern what is the will of God — what is good and acceptable and perfect (Romans 12:2 NRSV).” I can’t help but think that last night, the Grammy’s was taking this message to heart. Don’t be of the world (or of a church) that continues to perpetuate violence, greed, oppression, and domination. Instead, do the will of God. Choose to love and to listen, and with one another’s help, figure out how to live differently.
All this church stuff, it isn’t about power over or coercion. It isn’t about following all the rules, or achieving some intellectual and bodily orthodoxy (these are all mondegreens). It isn’t about building and maintaining boundaries between the sacred and the secular. It’s about breaking them down by being with one another in our places of pain and fear and doubt. It’s about staying with one another, not distancing ourselves because we too are afraid. While this can be really messy, difficult, and uncomfortable, it is the birthplace of possibility and of a beauty (testified to by the voices heard last night) more profound than we can imagine.
Stay with me, because when we stay with one another, hope becomes real.
