In the Sun
Once again and, really, as always, there is a song stuck in my head: In the Sun, a Joseph Arthur song as covered by Ben Harper. It’s one of those songs, the ones you don’t remember hearing the first time, one of those songs you think you’ve always known.
Honestly, I wouldn’t have thought twice about it when I heard it on Scrubs the other day. I’m sure I’ve heard it before. I must have. I knew the melody and I knew the lyrics. It just wasn't something I'd normally associate with Scrubs. I don’t watch it for the kickin’ soundtrack. I watch it for the janitor, for Perry, for Turk. I watch it for JD’s flashbacks, flash-forwards and imaginary scenes.
Tuesday night’s rerun kind of hit me, though. A little bit off of the funny bone. Perry’s sister came in for his son’s christening. He, of course, hated her. She found religion; he believed in hockey, himself and the beauty of sarcasm.
Granted, I only paid half attention until the christening scene. I don't know what really happened. Even then, I was only drawn in because the sister was wearing my favorite plum silk wrap dress from the republic of bananas. (Nobody ever claimed I was all that deep.)
Later, when she and her brother bonded, I totally spaced on the family-friendly, touchy feely scene. The background became the foreground and I could only hear the song. In the Sun.
I picture you in the sun wondering what went wrong
And falling down on your knees asking for sympathy
And being caught in between all you wish for and all you seen
And trying to find anything you can feel that you can believe in
May God's love be with you always
May God's love be with you
I know I would apologize if I could see your eyes
Cause when you showed me myself I became someone else
But I was caught in between all you wish for and all you need
I picture you fast asleep
A nightmare comes
You can't keep awake
May God's love be with you always
May God's love be with you
Cause if I find
If I find my own way
How much will I find
If I find
If I find my own way
How much will I find you
I don't know anymore
What it's for
I'm not even sure
If there is anyone who is in the sun
Will you help me to understand
Cause I been caught in between all I wish for and all I need
Maybe you're not even sure what it's for
Any more than me
May God's love be with you always
May God's love be with you
I don’t know what it is. I don’t remember hearing it. I don’t know how I know it. In The Milagro Beanfield war, a man awoke one day literate. He lost his literacy when he lost his right arm (to butterflies, by the way). His left arm just didn’t know how to make words. Likewise, I awoke one day knowing this song and feeling it deeply.
I tried singing it to my friend Lauren in the elevator at work the other day. She managed to restrain her giggles at my off-pitch keening but made me play the song back in my office. (I had, of course, found and downloaded it already.)
“I don’t know this song,” she said. “But I like it.”
I knew it. I liked it. I listened to it about a dozen times throughout the day. It made me think.
May God’s love be with you.
It’s not something I would normally say. I go to church. Regularly, even. And over the course of Lent, I gave up wine and picked up church. I became a card-carrying member of a local congregation and I feel at home there. Following my induction ceremony, a man came up to me.
“Go Bobcats!” he cried. I looked at him: white haired, fist pumping. “You are from Cambridge, right?”
I was. I am. I was just surprised to meet a retired gentleman who knew my hometown, who introduced himself, out of the blue, based on geographic ties. He made me happy and tried to make me feel at home.
I grew up in the church. My mom’s a church secretary. My parents met at a religious college. The same one where my cousin met his wife, his parents met, our grandparents met. Church means as much and as little as prayers before bed, over meals and at family events.
After high school, I spent a summer at a church camp. Lifeguarding, making food, canoeing. I was 17 and away from home for the first time and for good. I participated in my first bachelor party that summer. Yes, bachelor. Not bachelorette. I drank. I smoked. I cried a lot.
Over the next several years, I lost my faith. I’m not sure I ever really had it. I don’t know if I have it now. These days, I find myself embarrassed to admit that I am a Christian. That I believe in God. That I go to church. Regularly. Granted, I do meet boys who love that. I’m a girl they can take home to mom. But for the most part, it’s almost a sign of weakness, of ignorance, and I don’t know how that started.
Many of my friends are incredibly strong in faith. I have friends who work for Jewish Women International. B’nai B’rith. Organizations founded on belief and my friends are proud of what and how they believe, but I am still embarrassed. I have been told that organized religion is nothing but a crutch for ignorant souls afraid of dying. Not souls. Soul means nothing. People afraid.
I say the Our Father nightly with my brain shut down, my body close behind. The creeds drip from my tongue without thought or effort. I know every word of 'most every standard Lutheran service and some of the irregular ones. It is part of me, whether or not I believe or understand it.
And I try to believe. I try to understand. Sometimes, I struggle. I struggle with words and thoughts and actions. I try to make sense of all that accompanies the name of God: The hatred, the violence, the evil.
Sometimes, though, it all makes sense. One song. One verse.
May God's love be with you
It’s not a hymn. It’s not a prayer. It’s just a song coursing through my head and it reminds of who I am.
May God's love be with you
Maybe I’m stupid and afraid, ignorant and weak. Even so, it's not a half bad wish.
Tag: Religion In the Sun Christianity
posted by Kristin @ 2:34 AM
6 Comments:
Look at you being deep & insightful on a Friday morning.
I do understand what you mean about being embarrassed about going to Church. When I tell people I go I get a quizzicly look and "why?" followed behind the look.
And I understand why you go ... why those of us who do go. I understand the conflict of not agreeing with everything the church says/feels/believes but knowing that you belong there.
I get it.
The labels we put on our beliefs are what ultimately get us into trouble. Granted that there are many people who claim not to need a belief in God, for those of us who do have some sort of belief, God's love crosses all religious boundaries. If we could all just accept that, the differences would not be such a big deal. I am comforted by a sense of God's love.
i've never been really religious. i went to catholic school for a while, got kicked out of there. been baptised, eucharist, confirmation, all that happy crappy, and just never felt at ease with the church. but then again, true catholics never do. for a while i crusaded against organized religion and it's followers. mainly because any arguments i got in where people tried to back their shit up with the bible were using it as a crutch instead of formulating their own opinion. and i guess that's the big problem i had. they told you what to think. and i HATED people for not being able to think for themselves. i still hate ignorant people, but these days i realize there is a lot more to faith than what i gave it credit for. and some people truly need and love their faith. and i can't fault them for that. it's their own personal thing, and it makes them happy and doesn't hurt me, so who am i to pass judgement.
in case you couldn't tell, i was an angry judgemental young lad.
i pray a lot now. not always the case but *something* changed that.
I can understand exactly how you feel -- believing but not wanting to seem ignorant at the same time. There is a difference between having faith and using it to strike at other people. Myself, I find it comforting to think there is a greater power who cares for us if we will embrace Him. But I have seen others use their faith as a way to look down on others, which is interesting to say the least, since the Bible makes it pretty clear that only God can judge us.
For most of my high school time, many people thought I was going to be a priest...I came from a very Catholic household, Cathilic schooling, lots of church-centric activities. I was very Catholic, all though HS and the first three years of college. Then something changed; I've been fighting to regain that again, and at the same time, fighting against it.
I've picked back up going to Mass here in Baghdad when work doesn't interfere (or my sleep cycle), and while I was at the Vatican last month, I went to confession for the first time in 8 years. It reminded me that I have been missing something in my life; I am now working at regaining that lost faith. I always prayed every night, and kept a very good personal relationship with God, but it's time again to strengthen my bond with the Church.
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