Rumors

Jay W. Marshall, Dean
ESR Worship Feb. 6, 2002
Readings: Psalm 139: 1-12; Ephesians 3:14-19

Though outsiders may think we at ESR are a group given only to serious contemplation and profound dialogue, it was again confirmed at our school retreat that this is a group who enjoys having a good time. In case any have forgotten past Valentine’s Day Common Meals or Senior Swan Songs, the retreat reminded us that, indeed, we can even be light-hearted. So I suspect you have all played the game Gossip or Rumors, or your own regional variation of it. Everyone gathers in a Common Meal like circle, perhaps expecting to be blessed. One person begins by whispering some message to a neighbor-softly and quietly. In turn, the neighbor must pass along that whispered message (or at least the version he or she heard of it). Everyone gets one and only one chance to testify to the truth as they have received it as they pass along their message!

Even without Introduction to Pastoral Care or Spiritual Prep for Ministry under one’s belt, it's not hard to imagine how scrambled, or even unrecognizable, the original message is by time it returns full circle to the ear of the leader. Despite the advent of high-tech communications–email, faxes, conference calls--a lot of messages and stories still seem to be transmitted through our culture on the old gossip chain. And typically, these stories are altered and adjusted to fit the part of the country they in which they emerge, or the local prides and prejudices–sort of like what happened with the transmission of biblical texts, I think.

Some culture rumor-stories have been around now for decades. Ever hear about the snake in the coat at K-mart--or was it a python living on a sale table at Wal-Mart--or a boa constrictor that was found under the collar of a Mink coat in a Manhattan boutique?

Where I grew up, every neighborhood with a train track in the area had a version of a story involving a mysterious light which belonged to someone who was decapitated in a train accident. That person was supposedly walking the tracks at night with a lantern in search of his or her head.

At the local Hardees near my childhood home, a rumor started about how the workers there mishandled their food, how employees mixed foreign substances into various condiments after hours, and so forth. As a child I believed that. Lo and behold, I moved all the way to Indiana as an adult and I hear the exact same story about the Hardees here. This story has survived some 25 years.

A more serious story came to my attention a few years ago. It resurfaced in my mind a few weeks ago, leading me to believe I was to use it worship here. It, too, has been working its way though a kind of underground rumor mill. It, too, reveals something about the desires and fears of our time. It had all the earmarks of a "snake-in-the-Kmart"-type rumor, but someone finally tracked it down to its source. The following truly happened and involved a definite time and place and person.

Like any story, it has many dimensions. At one level, it is about the impact the faith of one nameless, homeless street person has had on people over 25 years after his death. Tapes of this individual have been played in homeless shelters all across America. Thanks to the grinding of the rumor mill, this homeless person has erroneously been located in such diverse places as Miami's 7th Street and 1st Avenue, New York City's 54th and Lexington, and on the streets of other lonely, urban centers.

This true story involves Gavin Bryars, England's leading musician/composer. In 1971, Bryars agreed to help his friend Alan Powers with the audio aspects of a film Powers was making about street people. The filming took place in and around London's Waterloo Station.

Powers filmed various people living on the streets--catching with the camera's eye their daily rituals, trials and joys. Some were obviously drunk, some mentally disturbed, some articulate, some apparently incomprehensible. As Bryars made his way through the audio and video footage. He became aware of a constant undercurrent, a repeating sound that always accompanied the presence of one older man. At first the sound seemed like muttered gibberish. But after removing the background street noise and cleaning up the audio tape, Bryars discovered the old man was in fact singing.

The footage of this old man and his muttered song didn't "make the cut" in the film. However Bryars took the rejected audio tape and could not escape the haunting sounds of this homeless, nameless man. So he did some research on his own into who this homeless person might be. From the film crew, Bryars learned that this street beggar was not an alcoholic, but neither did he engage others in conversation. His speech was almost impossible to understand, but his demeanor was sunny. Though old and alone and filthy and homeless, he retained a certain playfulness. Crew members recalled that he took delight in teasingly swapping hats with various members of the film crew.

But what distinguished this old man from the other street people in this area was his song. The song he sung under his breath was a simple, repetitive Sunday-school tune, but for him it was a mantra. He would just sit and quietly sing it, uninterrupted for hours on end.

“Jesus' blood never failed me yet Never failed me yet. Jesus' blood never failed me yet. There's one thing I know For he loves me so....”

Like a film loop, the song's final line fed into its first line, starting the tune over and over again without ceasing. The man's weak, old, untrained voice never wavered from pitch, never went flat, never changed key. The simple intervals of the tune were perfectly maintained for however long he sang.

As a musician, Bryars was fascinated. He began thinking of ways he could arrange and orchestrate around the constant, repeated lines the old man sang. One day, while playing the tape as background to other work, Bryars left the door to his studio open while he ran downstairs to get a cup of coffee. When he returned several minutes later, he found a normally buzzing office environment eerily stilled. The old man's quiet, quivery voice had leaked out of the recording room and transformed the office floor.

Under the spell of this stranger's voice, an office of busy professionals had grown hushed. Those who were still moving around walked slowly, almost reverently about the room. Many more had taken their seats and were sitting motionless at their desks, transfixed by the voice. More than a few were silently weeping, tears cascading undisturbed down their faces.

Bryars was stunned. He himself was not a believer himself, but Bryars could not help but be confronted by the mysterious spiritual power of this unadorned voice. These words were able to touch a lonely, aching place that lurks in the human heart, offering an unexpected message of faith and hope in the midst of the darkest, most blighted night.

Bryars himself started yearning for the confidence and faith this old man's song celebrates, and began to face what it means to feel homeless and alone even when we are sitting in the midst of our families.

Bryars vowed to respect this person by creating a recording that would celebrate and accentuate his simple message that, no matter what one's condition, Jesus "loves me so...."

It took England's leading contemporary composer until 1993 to create and produce what he felt was a proper accomplishment to this homeless person's song of trust and obedience. This he did in partnership with one of America's leading composers, Philip Glass. The result is a CD entitled "Jesus' Blood Never Failed Me Yet." ^[1]

I was moved by this story for several reasons. The knowledge that one who seems to have nothing going for him could have, at some level, what he needs most in that confident love and peace is inspiring. Hearing how someone took the time to look beyond the initial shocking image and actually see the contribution this individual could make to the spiritual journey of others is encouraging. But it also speaks to me as an illustration of how a clear and simple message can be nearly lost in the background noises of life. Even in a place like this, where with some intention we seek truth and cultivate spiritual depth--in the midst of those journeys the complexity of our lives can all but drown that simple refrain that melodically pulses from God’s heart ours.

Words like: “Be still, and know that I am God! (Psalm 46:10)

In the midst of the chaos and storm: “Peace! Be still!”, leaving open the question of whether that is a command to the storm, or to our struggle within it.

In those reactive moments when we are certain we need to lash out hear that calming refrain: “Perfect love casts out fear.”

In those moments where loneliness threatens to rule the day the songs sings:“Where can you go from my Spirit? Where can you flee from my presence?” (para. of Psalm 139:7), moving perhaps to the rhetorical: “Who will separate us from the love of Christ? Will hardship, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword?” (Romans 8:35) (or comp seminar, or field ed, or exegesis!)

In one way or another, it’s a related version of that simple song: “The blood of Jesus never failed me yet, never failed me yet. There is one thing I know, for he loves me so . . .”

I have to confess here. I am one who has come to the conclusion that while the story of Jesus’ death and resurrection are vital to my faith, classical atonement theories that emphasize the saving power of the blood have not spoken to my condition for quite some time. Consequently, one day I realized I had engaged in my own version of charades. When this song plays in my mind–even when I sing along in the confines of my truck where I don’t disturb others–I have changed the words to sing “Jesus’ love never failed me yet, never failed me yet. There is one thing I know, for he loves me so . . . Jesus love never failed me yet.”

Those are words to which I can testify and bear witness. Not only from the pages of Scripture, but also from my personal experience, a clear, simple message holds true. Like the game Rumors and Charades, as it passes from generation to generation, from community to community, translated, retold, and eventually filtered through cultural lenses and competing interests, by the time we hear it, it may hardly sound so simple or so powerful.

Sit with me now and listen–not only to the words and the wonderful music that accompanies it, but also to the song God sings in the depths of your own heart and mind and spirit.

Recording of Song Played in Worship (follow link to Gavin Bryars web page, scroll to bottom of the screen to listen to audio)

If there is only one thing you know, let it be that God loves you so...! Know that the message is constant. It never wavers. It never floats off key. It may be muffled at times because of present concentrations or background distractions. It may take effort to filter

out the garbage so that we hear the words plainly. But the message is there, being played over and over like an endless refrain. And that, my friends, is no rumor. It is called the Good News.