Spell My Name

For Every Song, a Story:
Spell My Name
For Zachary

I was talking to my brother Mark about the trials of his autistic son Zachary. Autism literally means self-ism. All trapped up. Signals scrambled, a social-emotional cripple. Trinity's image, all that high stuff... and here he is, sentenced to solitary in the emotional gulag by some damn disease he never deserved.

'He needs an Annie Sullivan,' I said.

'Yeah,' he said.

Then, silence. Just a couple of brothers and the leaden tension of impossible desire in an f'd up world.

Some prayers, I swear, it feels callous and criminal just saying them. There's no justice that way. They gotta be sung. It takes time, forming cries like these, and this one was no different. Was it months? Years? Anyway, it doesn't matter.

We don't write em, they're just there, waiting for a voice to give em an honest to God hearing and telling. Gritty, not pretty... this is the blues, not Broadway. Needing a worthy voice, never mine, but become mine, because its time has come and the right singer hasn't showed.

I remember, as a child, this TV special on Helen Keller.  That scene at the well, Miss Sullivan taking that small hand, making her understand...W-A-T-E-R. Brilliant. Do yourself a favor, read that scene again. The autobiography is .99 on Kindle. Powerful, magical stuff.

To get a little into that terrifying silent darkness of that little girl. How? Why? Who knows...that"s the mystery, that's the muse.  Pecking out those prison shell walls, into the clear light of day and that tender touch of the other. You can't get that ecstasy without that agony. Cruel but true. It's Helen's story, not mine. Zachary"s story, not mine.

Or is it?

Oh for an Annie Sullivan.

If I Could Sing

For Every Song, a Story: 
If I Could Sing

Karin Bergquist and break dancers.

That's where it started. Late August, bike ride. I can tell you the exact spot. South Ridge Park in Urbana, making the loop. Some Over the Rhine song came on, and it was good jealousy, not bad. It wasn't, man can she sing, I hate her. It was, man can she sing, I love her. You know. Just wishing I could do like that. Limpid and crystal, soulful and elegant, happy and sad. 'If I could sing.' There it was.

My faulty router kicked back on and suddenly my WiFi had full bars. My soul hummed and sent the signal to the universe that I was open for business. The ironic title was too juicy to resist. I knew I was onto something.

A few days later. Quad Day. Passing by the Floor Lovers break dance club. These guys were tearing it up, man. On a plastic fold-out 10 x 10 floor. I just stood and stared, forever. You're talking to the guy who bought a how-to book on break dancing in 6th grade (pre YouTube). One nice dude insisted on taking my info. For twelve hours, fantasies of a blissful, free, less-white life crackled and electrified me.

Mitch sealed the deal when,  passing Joe's Brewery, he said he once saw Angeline 'clear the floor' there during a hip hop number back in the day.

From there, it wrote itself. A bucket-list extra: finding a licit way to include Huckleberry Finn. What self respecting American songwriter hasn't wanted to write him into a song.  I could only smile, satisfied that I got one right, at least.

Mercy: The Playlist

This Sunday's gospel reading (Matthew 5:38-48) is about love of enemies and forgiveness.  This is the love that faces evil, and wins.

In honor of mercy, I offer a five-song playlist of some of the best songs I know about mercy.  What are some of yours?  I would love to hear from you!

1) Forgive by Ida:
I love this indie folk group. A lilting, sweet, gentle meditation that is one of the most gorgeous and meaningful songs I've ever heard.  It draws me into a deep space of calm and gentle peace, and leaves me with a desire to change. "How can it be/ we forgot how to forgive?"

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mSJZZYb7x9M

2) Forgiveness by Patty Griffin :
From her acoustic guitar-and-voice-only debut record, this one never fails to shatter me, then gently put me back together.  "It's hard to give, hard to get/ but everybody needs a little forgiveness."

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EvdV3W8Q1yU

3) Sorry I Am by Ani DiFranco:
She can growl one minute, and the next sing a lullaby that makes your heart float like a feather.  Sometimes she can get ideological and has no qualms pointing fingers at those she identifies as oppressors.  Yet here, she is at her best, taking responsibility for her share in a failed relationship.  The ambiguities and sheer humanity of love and heartbreak are perfectly captured in this song which is perhaps the best showcase of Ani's tender side. I guess I never loved you quite as well/ as the way you loved me/ I guess I'll never really be able to tell you/ how sorry I am.  Notice how she does not sing high until that cathartic moment at the very end.  Ahh it slays me every time.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wgMTH0t24Iw


Grace by U2:
A rather un-U2-ish song that relies on a simple bass line and some synth, plus Bono's prayer-hymn soul singing, this is one of my all-time favorite U2 songs.  It's like a miracle, if you ask me.  "Grace/ she takes the blame/ covers the shame/ removes the stain... Grace it's the name for a girl/ it's also a thought that could change the world. And when she goes to work you can hear the strings/ grace makes beauty out of ugly things."

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n4QvtXqNq0Y

5) Sigh No More by Mumford and Sons:
OK, you can't have a mercy playlist and not include these guys.  Many artists complain about the wrongs of society and the wrongs to them.  Few turn it around, take responsibility, and blame themselves -- in a way that's not whiny or self-indulgent, just honest.  Many of their songs could qualify, but I still think this one takes the cake.  "My heart was never pure/ I'm sorry." And that ever-quoted anthem of a chorus that somehow is still not a cliche after all these years: Love will not betray you dismay or enslave you/ it will set you free/ be more like the man you were made to be.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ujv3c0TqLRk

"Love your enemies." -- Jesus
"An eye for an eye only makes the whole world blind." -- Gandhi

Introducing... Daydream

Here is something I sent the followers on my email list awhile back when I released Daydream.  I thought I'd share it on my site (slightly edited).  Thanks for stopping by!

Dear friends,

Greetings from outer space, where I am still drifting, still hopeful, still a little clueless and naive, yet getting closer all the time...and meanwhile, enjoying (mostly) the ride.

I am pleased to announce the release of “Daydream,” a little five-song record that was mostly the fruit of this past Lent.  (I decided that doing something creative like a record beat giving up candy, etc).

I did all the recording and mixing myself on my very old school, decade-old Yamaha desktop DAW, in the ridiculous cavern of a great room at St John’s rectory.  It was a labor of love.  Some awesome and talented friends collaborated with me, notably, Bill Fox (drums), Amanda Ang (vocals and lyrics for ‘In The Basement’), Shea Acott (cello) and Anthony Co (lyrics for ‘Frightful Beauty’).

On my website, I have likened my music to “bread” – kneaded and baked from poor and simple ingredients of life, perhaps less gratifying as a candy bar or chips, but nourishing in its own unique way.  Well, this latest record is more like drinks from a bar.  I believe the tag line I used on Bandcamp was “musical cocktails, mixed and served by a priest, from the bar of life.”  It’s different from past releases in that it’s more alt-rock than alt-folk.  It’s so multi-tracked that my friend Adam likened it to a quiche (bet you haven’t seen that word in your email!)

As with past projects, the music is dense and intentional.  It arose from insights gained in the various fights in the “basement of the heart” (see attached poem by Amanda if you wonder what that means).  Things learned there are some of the most valuable things in life.  Like anything precious, it begs to be shared.  But so often it's incommunicable, or seems that way.  Song is the only language medium I personally have that can even come close to conveying it.  I always cherish the hope that others may find value and meaning in the songs, connect, and, perhaps, even find a little hope and consolation of their own amid the ups and downs of their own life’s journey.

I should have released the album months ago.  Perfectionism and inferiority complex - aaaaagggggghhhhhhh leave me alone.

After long experience, I have realized that with the art of song, HOW something is said is as important, if not more, than WHAT is said.  A good song is a magical mixture of a sonic “what” and “how” that somehow have the power to move someone’s heart.  I feel like my “what” often exceeds my “how,” if that makes any sense.  While I have made some strides as a singer, I regret to admit that I’ll probably never (sigh) be Chris Cornell or Justin Vernon.  But I sure do try.  I ask your indulgence, and thank you for understanding that “all that is gold does not glitter,” as Tolkien wrote.  There is some gold buried in these little songs – a conviction which has led me, finally, to get over myself and just put it out there, blemishes and all.

OK, I’ll just shut up now and let you check out the music, if you wish. 

Thanks and much love.  Many of you create art and try to make beautiful things to share with the world, which is cool and awesome. I bless you and wish you much victory and success. My friend Vince, a super talented artist, says that any time he makes a painting, it's his way of saying to the world, "I'm still here, you bastards."  While that may seem slightly harsh and offensive to some, to me it's amusing and consoling, and rings very true.  Thanks for your friendship, support, and the value and beauty each of you add to the world. And thanks for reading/listening!

Basement of the Heart

U of I Students Seek to Engage Faith and Culture Through Art

Amanda Ang reads her poem "Fight Club"

Shea Acott plays Allemande from Bach's 4th Cello Suite

On Sunday, April 7, a group of University of Illinois students shared a presentation at St John's Catholic Newman Center on "Enagaging Faith and Culture."  The group, called "Basement of the Heart," consists of student artists who meet weekly to:

• create intentional space for dialogue on the arts, faith, culture, and their inter-connection
• build friendships and community around these ideals
• encourage creation of their own works through respectful sharing and critique
• influence the culture through beautiful and meaningful artistic artifacts

Throughout the semester, the group met weekly.  We shared and discussed artifacts, engaged in discussion for clarification of thought, and read selections from Andy Crouch's "Culture Making: Rediscovering Our Creative Calling,"  which challenges Christians to do less critiquing, copying, and consuming, and more creating; we are, after all, created in the likeness of a God who is creator.  The lack of compelling cultural artifacts of a Christan spirit is largely our own fault, he says.  Crouch offers many helpful insights and ideas.

I serve as moderator of the group.  I began  the presentation by quoting from Pope John Paul II's 1999 "Letter to Artists" in which he stressed that the church needs art, and art needs the church; and that the world needs beauty in order not to sink into despair.  I also quoted Joseph Ratzinger who, prior to becoming pope, once said, "the only really effective apologia for Christianity comes down to two arguments, namely, the saints the church has produced and the art which has grown in her womb."

Shea Acott, a sophomore cello major, played a movement from Bach's 4th Cello Suite.  Amanda Ang, a sophomore in environmental economics, then read a poem inspired by the film "Fight Club:"

Fight Club

i desperately need to connect with someone

i need to break out of my

Cling-wrapped existence

the muffled sounds of Out There

striking numbly at my bones

i want a true connection

not just another conversation 

dripping with superficiality

not just another “How are you?” 

and “I’m doing well” 

but a “What do you mean? Do you wish me 

a good morning, or mean that it is a good morning 

whether I want it or not; or that you feel good

this morning; or that it is a morning to be good on?” 

and “All of them at once” 

i want my life

to be infused with many Alleluia choruses

and Sonata “Pathetique”s 

i want my life to be 

a pebble that falls

not just a leaf, smooth-sailing

i want to take the punches for You

tonight, and always

You don’t have to go it alone

here, in the basement of my heart

i can no longer live with my Tyler Durden 

i must fight

i cannot be Marla Singer

i must live

the revolution is not Out There

the Mayhem is in the basement

the Mayhem started with me

We need to fight

to be alive

but not just fight, for fighting’s sake

but fight for our humanity

but fight to our very last breath

giving it all away

Amanda spoke briefly about the poem, explaining that these men in the film were  fighting for their lives and humanity amid a numb and alienating world of un-fulfilling work and relationships.  The "basement" is the hidden depths where, underground and invisible to society, we engage life intensely, fighting for meaning, purpose, and life itself.  She spoke of how the group latched on to the "basement of the heart" phrase as a title.

Next, Ruth Kenney, a sophomore performing vocal arts major, gave a summary of the group's activities, aims and ideals, elaborating on the four main themes while stressing that for believers, devotion, while very important, is not enough -- excellence in one's field/craft is a must if we hope to have any influence on the culture.

Adrienne Fair, a senior fine arts major specializing in metals, then gave a testimony of her experience as both a devoted Catholic and art major, and how she worked to reconcile these two identities amid a secular academic climate sometimes wary or hostile to religion.  She spoke on her thesis project, on display in the campus's "Link" Gallery, which she described as follows:

I have created a body of work that consists of four wearable objects and one non-wearable object. The objects are contemporary references to the spiritual Body of the Catholic Church. Each piece will reference the union between the physical body and the spiritual Body. The five objects are 1) a headpiece for God the Father 2) an instrument for Jesus Christ the Word made flesh, 3) a signet ring for the Holy Spirit, 4) a brooch worn over the heart for the Virgin Mary and 5) an armlet representing Mankind and the Physical Church on Earth. 

 

Adrienne led some participants on guided tour of her exhibit after the presentation.

Finally, Angel Diaz, a U of I grad from a few years ago, spoke of his initiative called "The Glass Darkly," a recently established quarterly arts magazine on themes of faith.  Angel currently lives in Chicago and was an English major specializing in poetry.  His friend, colleague, and fellow alum Bob Puschautz, an art major and painter, presented with him.  They spoke of the grassroots origins of their magazine, which began as conversations among like-minded friends.  They shared their desire to bring together people of similar interests and values to continue the conversation on art, faith and culture, and to encourage meaningful artistic creation from a faith perspective.  

 

The presentation closed with an invitation by Dana Byerwalter, a senior English major, to attend her upcoming reading of her short story, a winner selected  in the University's undergraduate creative writing contest.  

This was the first of what will hopefully be many public presentations by the group, which only began in January.  It's exciting and encouraging to see talented young people of faith coming together, seeking to impact the world by sharing their unique artistic voices in a compelling and well-honed way.  Shea, Amanda and I were on the Rome pilgrimage together a few week ago, where we prayed in Santa Maria Sopra Minerva at the tomb of the great pre-Renaissance master Blessed Fra Angelico, patron saint of artists.  We prayed for a deep artistic anointing for ourselves, "Basement of the Heart," and all artists.  I look forward to seeing the beautiful and unexpected ways this prayer gets answered.

Farewell, my dear friend

Vin Luong, Face of a Free Man

The first time I met Vin, it was with Jessamyn at Panera in Peoria.  As everyone knows, Vin  possessed a legendary cool.  So naturally, I was impressed by the breathtaking spectacle of this guy with paint splattered clothes, tight v-neck t-shirt, bad-ass jewelry, mammoth key collection attached to the Incredible Hulk action figure key ring, and of course... that hair.  He had a swagger that, in some incomprehensible way, was not arrogant but rather humble...humble while managing at the same time to be supremely confident.  Only he could pull it off.  He had his little tablet computer with him, all tricked out Vin-style, to share his artwork, which of course blew my mind.  But what impressed me most was his face. 

I am usually pretty dense when it comes to first impressions.  It's hard for me to remember faces, let alone names, after a first meeting, probably because I need shared experiences to really form impressions that stick.  It's embarrassing to say, but everyone kind of looks the same to me at first.  But this guy... it was a blaze of instant, unforgettable recognition.  It was that face.  The first thought that came into my mind when I first laid eyes on Vin was this phrase: "the face of a free man."  (I actually would end up writing a song based on that phrase).Vin was free, man.  I admired it, was drawn to it, wanted it.  Whatever this man had, I wanted it! 

Vin proved all too ready to oblige. He was the perfect blend of brilliance and humanity.  He wanted to be your friend.  He was kind, accessible, and transparent as a mountain stream.  Vin would have had every right to be an edgy, aloof indie rock star artist.  He simply had it, the man was goooood, he was naturally and effortlessly cool, to a degree that lesser people drool and pose and preen a lifetime for, and never achieve.  But he detested those kind of airs.  He renounced poser-dom and had some very sharp things to say on the subject, when pressed.  He was interested in reality, not appearances.  That's why his art was so fricking beautiful and bad-ass.

Vin and I quickly became good friends.  He was a real encourager.  When Jessamyn and I were struggling to play something or not sounding any good, he would simply say: "You guys just need to find your mojo, and you will start kicking ass!"  He stayed up all night painting gold stars on a stupid black bed sheet for me, tranforming it into something transcendent, simply because I mentioned that I would love to have a "space" backdrop for my "launch" party concert for Space Traveler.  When I complained to him how lame I dressed compared to him, he took me to Target and helped me update my wardrobe.  He bought me some faux Chuck Taylors and a V-neck for my birthday; the former were a big hit but I was never able to pull off the latter...my scrawny-ass body simply could not rock that V-neck like Vin. 

Last March, he drove three hours (each way) to meet me and Ben up at our new condo, and shared with us his visions for what he would do with our place.  He was going to do it for free, by the way.  Among other things, he was going to paint some birds in Ben's room and paint a vine winding around the post by the breakfast bar.  Unfortunately, life got busy and we never found the time.  Ben still cherishes that memory, as I do, especially afterwards when we went to Golden Corral and day-dreamed together in the glow of that early Spring.  

Vin gave me the painting you see above as a going-away gift when I moved from Peoria to Champaign.  It has a place of honor in my room, having taken on new meaning and poignancy in past weeks.  He also led a bunch of us dear friends around Chinatown in Chicago on New Year's Day, 2012, a special day and one of the truly great and blessed memories of friendship I may ever have.  Ah, the memories are rich... and so many.  And yet, too few.  I grieve there will not be more

Vin was an example of what, sadly, seems to be increasingly rare: a bona-fide American dream success story.  Chinese but raised in Vietnam,  he fled to the USA as a young man.  He used to say that he would never allow himself to remain in the comfort of a Chinese-speaking enclave.  He learned English, after not knowing a word, and set out to be a part of the world he loved best: art.  He got a job in a framing store, engaged and befriended the local art community, and worked his way up to making a living as a full time artist.  "I am doing what I love," Vin would always say, with passion and delight.  His artwork pretty much defines the ambience and spirit of One World Cafe, one of Peoria's most popular beloved local restaurants (and one of its few genuinely hip, indie establishments).  His art is actually all over the Peoria area and beyond, both in public establishments like restaurants and schools, as well as in the private homes of well-heeled folks who wisely used their ample resources to let Vin transform their houses into riotous celebrations of awesomeness.

The greatest thing about Vin was his love for his wife.  The dude was in love, man.  He possessed great tenderness, and nowhere was it more on display than with Jessamyn.  Those two had something truly special.  Jessamyn told me about a year ago that Vin said to her something like: "You know, if you keep letting me be me, and I let you be you, we can be happy together for the rest of our life."  She laughed as she recounted it, taking delight in the simple beauty and wisdom of the words, which were just so... well, just so Vin.

Jessamyn was Vin's muse.  She seems to be in just about every one of his paintings.  The man had an extraordinary capacity for seeing.  He let reality move him, he respected it, gazed intently on it, respected it by trying to let it be itself and thus see deeper and deeper into its secrets.  Then, he would show us what he saw.  His paintings are prophetic revelations of insight.  I am so moved by the depths of what he saw in Jessamyn.  This is one of my favorites:

Goodbye, Vin.  I love you and miss you.  I am so very sad.  I especially would have liked to see you one last time to say goodbye.  My faith and hope in Christ assure me that we will meet again.  And that you still see me, hear me, love me.  Help me find and keep my mojo, man.  Look after your wife.  Pick out a nice spot, because when we get back together, we will each have so much to say.

 

When the Ship Comes In...(it's going to Rome!!!)

My two biggest passions in life are music and God.  As a confused teenager, though, I was not quite ready for God.  For a time, music was the closest thing I had.  My “evangelists” were  Dylan, Hendrix, Clapton and Eric Johnson, more than Matthew, Mark, Luke and John.  I’m not proud of this, but it’s where I was at.  Although, I think music prepared my heart for God and pointed me in the right direction.  (In fact, I think it continues to be so).

When I met God,  I eventually answered the call to give Him everything and follow as a priest. But, I began to wonder where music fit.  For a time, I thought music would have to go.  How could I serve two masters?  I sold my electric guitar and bought a classical, thinking that would at least be acceptable/respectable in the seminary.  I studied classical for three years and even became decent at this highly disciplined form of guitar playing.

One day towards the end of seminary, I was playing classical and suddenly, without warning, something just snapped inside me.  I spontaneously began ripping into a bunch of riffs and blues licks.  A thrill and joy came back to me and I just tore it up on that nylon string guitar for, like, an hour.  Maybe more.  A few weeks later, I bought another electric guitar.

I have always struggled to reconcile my love for “rock ‘n’ roll” (a rather general category with many broad meanings) with being a priest.  Songs have a magical, almost sacramental quality for me.  They take me someplace beautiful which just feels right and true.  I just can’t believe that God is displeased with this, at least when it’s done well.  As an aspiring songwriter, I have always felt that some things can only be said through songs.  But some people frown on this.  Shouldn’t a priest be only concerned with prayer and the church?  Isn’t anything else inappropriate, even selfish?

I have always wondered why God would give me a passion for music, only to ask me to give it all up.  Isn’t there a middle ground?  Can’t some good come from a priest who happens to also love and play music, even if it is not explicitly Christian/Praise music?  I have always been a rather unconventional priest.  I often feel like a square peg in a round hole.  I often struggle with feelings of inferiority to other priests who don’t seem to struggle with such attachments.  I often wish I could just be content to do prayer and the Word and the sacraments and be happy, like so many other priests who I recognize as being holier and superior to myself.  Sometimes, I wonder if my music is just part of a stupid ego trip, and that I should finally give it up and be a “real” priest.

But I have chosen to follow my heart, and as I have come to know God better as a tender and loving Father, I have come to more peace being “myself,” quirky and unconventional as that is. And, I have seen a lot of good God has done by using me as I am, rather than as some forced icon I can never be.

Anyway, I feel like it all came together last night.  I got to play music and share songs with my beloved students, who have become my dear friends.  The reason I know them is because I am their priest.  And the whole reason for the evening was to raise $$$ so I could go to Rome... to visit “ground zero” of my faith and priesthood.  Music and songs, which I always struggled to reconcile with my priesthood, became the vehicle to get me to the “mother ship,” with the pope and all.  What a blessing!

I am still processing all this, “pondering it in my heart.”  I am really happy.   The bottom line is: God is so good.  He always surprises me, proving way better than I think.  And you are so good.

I cannot adequately express my gratitude, or how moved I was, by the outpouring of love and support I experienced last night.  About 110 people came to the concert, which raised over $700.  I am now in the clear.  All expenses are covered and I am headed to Rome! I have never been there before.  I was supposed to go in 2002, but I broke my ankle a few weeks before and had to bail.  I was sad, but figured, the time must not be right.  I prayed: “Lord, if/when the time is right, I know you will show me.”

When the March trip with Dr. Howell and students was proposed to me last semester, I thought the time had come.  I was super pumped.  Unfortunately, though, I was short on cash.  I asked God to let some money drop out of the sky if I was to go.  Well, the December deadline came and went... and no money dropped from heaven.  So, I wrote it off, and figured, oh well there’s always next time.

Then, through a series of unforeseen graces, some people worked behind the scenes to try and fund-raise for me.  College students, who are basically broke, raised over $1500 on my behalf.  It all culminated in last night’s concert, which raised the rest.  I felt loved and honored.  I felt so happy that part of the way I could raise the money to get to Rome was through my “unconventional” gift of music. I was happy to be a part of so many people having so much fun!

I sang “When the Ship Comes In” last night by Bob Dylan.  For me, last night felt like my own “ship” came in... and it’s heading to Rome!  (Well, ok, technically it’s a plane... but you get the idea).  Thanks for letting me be myself and share my gift of my quirky, unusual self.  And for your incredible love and support.  I am so blessed to be a part of the Newman community.  I feel like the most blessed priest in the diocese.

Special thanks go to Tom Comberiate, Pat Doherty, Marek Mroczek, Steven Boyer, Greg Morehouse, Laz Ramos, Colten Maertens, and Bill Fox, the “Fever” guys who organized this event, via the Kinights of Columbus, and generously opened their home and hosted the event, with lots of sacrifice.  Thanks to Shea Acott, Amanda Ang, Stacy Hague, and of course, Bill, for joining in the music.  And thanks to all of you who came and/or contributed to making possible my Rome adventure.  You are such a gift and a blessing to me, and I am fortunate to have you in my life.  Many, many thanks to all of you.  May God reward your generosity and kindness in unforeseen ways.  I will bring all of you to Rome with me and pray for you at all the holy places!

Much love,
Fr Charles