A wide spot in my imagination.

Monday, November 30, 2009

Teilhardian Jazz

The choir sang this past Sunday at the First (and Only) Uni-Christi-Bapti-Metho-Presby-palian Church here in Zen. Yet it weren't no choir at all. 'Twas only a soloist, sittin' on a stool, backed up by the Last-Sunday-of-the-Month Jazz Ensemble, which consists of a cap-wearin' trumpeter, a toe-tappin' piano player, a rat-a-tat-tat drummer, and a thump-bumpa-bump-bump stand-up bass. And the song weren't no church song either. It was the Gershwin boys' 1926 jazz standard, "Someone to Watch Over Me."

The song oozed off the chancel into the congregation, slow, sultry, with enough swing to let you know this was different. It was spirited though, in a way that the Women's Circle would only speak of when they were drunk-on-communion-wine honest.

After it was all over -- the song, the sermon, the offering plates passed and what-not -- one older-timer was heard to say over coffee, "Didn't know whether I was in church or in a bar." The sly smile made me think he knew both and appreciated them in a truly separate but equal kind of way.

That overhearing is what's responsible for the following interlinear comparison:

There's a saying old says that love is
blind,

Still we're often told, "Seek and ye shall
find..."

Seek ye first the kingdom of God...


So I'm going to seek a certain lad I've had in
mind...

Sweet little Jesus boy...

Looking everywhere I haven't found him
yet,

He's the big affair I cannot forget...

O love that will not let me go...

Only man I ever think of with
regret...

Were you there...


I'd like to his initial to my
monogram,

Tell me where is the shepherd for this lost
lamb...

Savior, like a shepherd lead us...

There's somebody I'm longin' to see,
I hope that he turns out to be,
Someone to watch over me...

Guide me, o thou, great Jehovah...


Although he may not be the guy
Some girls think of as handsome
To my heart, he carries the key...

Who would think that what was needed...

Won't you tell him to put on some
speed...

Come, thou fount of every blessing...

Follow my lead, Oh, how I need,
Someone to watch over me.



"Didn't know whether I was in church or in a bar." Sometimes it's hard to tell. Maybe it doesn't matter.

The old French Jesuit said, "By the virtue of creation and still more, of the Incarnation, nothing here below is profane for those who know how to see."

Teilhardian jazz, right here in Zen.

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