He had homework, so he sent me to the chic music club Jammin Java to see a celtic artist I'd never heard before, a gal who sings traditional tunes from the Hebredis Islands in Scottish Gaelic. Her name is Julie Fowlis, and she's probably got one of the best celtic-genre voices I've ever heard. (and yes, I still say that even being very familiar with the work of Karan Casey - also phenomenal, but I believe now dethrowned as my favorite.)
I drove my little red Fit down to Vienna, VA and made it in time to grab a cup of tea by (suprise!) my favorite tea blender Harney & Sons and get a seat near the front. The biggest treat of concerts to me (yes, even above the music) is seeing married couples perform together. Julie was there with a small band composed of a terrific fiddler and guitaries, but also her husband Eamon Doorley on bouzouki (think guitar, but Irish-er). The look on his face when she opened the show with a haunting acapella song was priceless.
The show was not only bulging with talent from all angles, but also engaging. There was lots of time given to my all-time favorite art (that of story-telling), since the songs were all in a language I didn't speak. Julie was well spoken and concise, and of course, this American found her accent absolutely endearing =)
But as she told story after story, I was reminded of an experience I'd had at another concert given by a Scottish folk singer name Jim Malcolm. Jim is a superb story-teller, and of course was telling the cooresponding stories to his songs as well. After the intermission (during which he manned his own CD table), he returned to the stage and told us - you guessed it - a story.
"During the break," he said, "I was approached by a fellow who said, 'Jim - why is so much of British-Isle folk music so sad?" I laughed a light, understanding laugh. British-Isle traditional music is incredibly sad. The stories are often of murder, or death by another means, or adultery, or vengence - some of them are so depraved I won't listen to them. There's a huge slice of the genre that has nothing edifying to offer at all. At the concerts there are both slices, and in that setting I take the good with the bad.
So, Jim's answer to the break-time inquirer? "Well, I said to him, 'Have you ever been to Scottland?'"
The audience laughed like they understood. But I didn't understand. I've been to Scottland and it's beautiful. I sigh for the day I can go back, if the Lord is pleased to let me. His answer was jestful, to be sure - but also completely unsatisfactory.
And at Julie's concert, I was reminded of that encounter. Julie was telling sad stories too. Her concert was outstanding. Her effortless talent (and that of her backup) was obvious. Her fans were devoted, as evidenced by the two encors they demanded (my favorite was when she came out the first time and timidly stepped up to her mic, saying "Mr. Sound Man - I have a surprise for you - I'm sorry I didn't mention this earlier..." then proceeded to pull out an enormous set of pipes, which she played deftly. The second encor was an acapella audience sing-along, if you were curious.) It was a bang-up performance. But my mind still went to the same place it went after the Jim Malcolm concert.
Driving home after Jim, I returned to the question he'd 'answered' for us. Why is this music so sad, God? I felt an answer as clearly as if it were spoken: Matthew 12:34 - "For out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks."
These songs were written by people who didn't have peace with their creator. They didn't know the good news that they could be reconciled to God. They probably didn't even understand they needed a savior to ransom them from their sin. Indeed, they were likely in bondage to the false religions of Celtic witchcraft. Of course the words overflowing from their hearts were desperate and hopeless. They were more than just sad, they were depraved. It's not surprising that such an overflow would produce the content of these tranditional songs.
As I mentioned earlier, I screen alot of this music when listening to it myself. There is one song I occasionally let slip through the firewall, though. It's called "I wonder what's keeping my true love tonight" (they didn't have to fit track titles on CDs back then...) by the band Solas. It's a conversation between a faithful man and his unfaithful lady lover. The song begins with him wondering where his true love is that night, for if she knew the anguish she was causing him by staying away, surely she wouldn't do so.
Enter the lady - she appears and reports that she's stayed away not because she was hindered, but because she's found someone else. In one heart breaking line she says "I told you I loved you to set your mind at ease - but when I'm far from you I love as I please."
There are many places in the bible (Ezekiel 16 being one pronounced place) where God draws an analogy between his idolatrous people and an unfaithful wife. This song has a flavor that draws my thoughts to the grief God must feel when I forsake him, not because I'm hindered (indeed, the curtain is torn in too!), but because I've chosen another idol to love. The closing line in the song, spoken by the man, says "You're love, it lies as lightly as the dew upon the corn comes down in the evening, goes away in the morn." How my affection for God would undillate and wane if he weren't faithful in holding on to me! I'm so grateful that God has decided to love me and never let me leave him - otherwise, my sinful heart would certainly wander, or worse, forsake him permanently.
I'll close with one of the most hope-giving passages of scripture I know, the words of Jesus himself in John 10:27-28...
"My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me. I give them eternal life, and they will never perish, and no one will snatch them out of my hand. My Father, who has given them to me, is greater than all, and no one is able to snatch them out of the Father’s hand."
