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Britt and the Kingdom
The Harleys rumbled through the second lesson this morning at St. Mark’s – sending me to last night’s Britt twin billed event with Buddy Guy and George Thorogood and the Destroyers. The gospel from Matthew 13 spoke of the Kingdom of God in parable form – the mustard seed that grows into a tree for birds; the woman who puts yeast to flour and makes abundant bread; the treasure hidden under our noses; the pearl for which we would sell all we have to possess; angels gone into fish sorting; etc.
About half way through the sermon, I began to get the rector’s challenge –we can see the Kingdom right now. I thought that sometimes it comes like a tiny spark that can grow a 1000 fires in place like California. I get it, kind of, anyway. For me the rumbling bikes reminded me of a group of bikers up from CA for the show – find a great spot to settle in beneath one of the great trees on the Britt Hill – and one coming over to ask the Event Staff guy a question: How do we reserve the Blue tarps? And the nice chat that followed.
George’s following is part Biker, part Boomer, (and some of the Boomer’s Kids) and college agers who just love his hard driving, raunchy, chest pounding sound and lyrics. They were all there – some with faded tattoos to match fading physiques and hair, some in face paint, some with their 24 year old daughters, teeny boppers on a birthday binge – with mom wishing she had not said yes, yes, yes sir-ee. They were all there – a regular cross section of the Kingdom; rich and poor, slim and fat, handsome and not so handsome, good dancers and afraid to move – they all showed up and sold out the hill with 2200 + all us volunteers.
Pastor Rick calls the service to order, invoking those gathered to mind their public manners which hardly anyone gets to practice anymore. Britt is public space – talker and cell phonies to the side, please – make good decisions about spirits and help us keep Britt as the only place in Oregon where you can bring your own. Patrons have pulled together to get one more friend into the area with wrist band only protection – they have pulled their blankets and chairs to squeezing in a biker or two or college kid and his girl friend here and there – there is a closeness growing – the yeast has been fermenting – the bread is on its way.
Buddy appears with the sun still hot on the stage – and he adds more heat and more closeness. After a song or two Buddy angels his way into the crowd with only a blacked out stage hand porting a mic for when Buddy wants to sing. Buddy understands the Kingdom at the soul level and his first stop off the stage is to a young guy stretched out in a quad powered wheelchair in the handicapped section. We all feel it as he smiles so broadly his face comes near breaking when Buddy gets him to strum a few on his wireless empowered strings. This sends the audience into teary eyed frenzy but Buddy is not done. The first – those with bucks and those with time – are soon to be last as Buddy winds his way up the hill with more than a few bows and pats to say later they touched an angel. About half way Buddy rambles behind the sound booth blocking the view of the privileged and gives the rest of us the best he has to offer – that’s what angels do in the Kingdom. The mustard seed seats have grown into a front row action and Buddy loves it and so do we. All too soon he has to go (after all, even John Travolta’s Michael got called in after a while). Buddy has done his Kingdom work for the night – the patrons run for the broken down toilets, the unhealthy oiled up popcorn, the high fructose sweetened ice-cream and the $30 bottles of whine (and I do mean whine). I guess it doesn’t matter what you eat in the Kingdom – we are in God’s hands tonight.
Half time on sold out nights (SO for short on the event staff cheat sheet) is quickly becoming one big “meet and greet” – folks are hugging and handshaking from one end to other. People on inside blankets are doing their best to fairy step their way to an aisle. Kids sitting so long (3 minutes maximum) are stretching their legs and their lungs…yowie! the Kingdom is in full participatory mode and spirits are rising and other spirits are being downed at kingdom sized rates.
All of which sets the stage for “GT and D” or George Thorogood and the (Delaware) Destroyers. George tells us right off that we are in for a nasty time. Now I know that dualists might call that an angel followed by the devil. Jesus understood nasty – he got lots of criticism for hanging with “nasty.” Tax collectors and prostitutes… Mustard, you see, is a weed, a nasty invasive weed, and in the Kingdom it shows up as an unexpectedly vigorous bush in those fine cultivated fields – weeds in great numbers. George’s energy and music is like that – it pounds – grows like weeds in our heads – it soars – it inspires – it inspires some to Bourbon, Scotch, Beer and others to a weed of another sort but only one of these is legal at Britt.
George is a player and tonight he is hitting home runs and not in minor leagues, either. George has been playing the Big Show for a long time; he and the Destroyers have been together a long time and it shows. This is the George that gave up a promising baseball career and spent everything he had on a chance to make his Music. It’s the pearl of great value thing. George gave his all for the chance to make music and gives his all every time he’s on stage – it’s why he sells out – living in the Kingdom even for 3 1/2 hours is so intoxicating, so wonderful, we can overlook our differences and groove together to the music.
But music of another sort, the into to Recessional Hymn #615 brings me back to St. Marks. The Harleys have probably recessed half way to Shasta by now. Randomly, I think that I am glad that at our church we willing to use word recession (or at least a form of it). Then 615 intones, “’Thy Kingdom Come’ on bended knee the passing ages pray and faithful souls have yearned to see on earth that kingdom’s day.” I realize that I have seen on earth that kingdom’s day – or at least a glimpse of that kingdom’s night – through God’s angels, Buddy and George on Britt hill.
As Dr. Peggy slips into the postlude, Walther’s Allegro (Concerto in b minor) on the massive St. Mark’s pipe organ, it comes to me that she is our GT of the pipe organ, playing with an intensity that George and The Destroyers would appreciate. For when it comes down to it we are all angels of one sort on another at least in Kingdom of music and light.
AJM 7/27/08
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