Mourning Innocence Lost

I missed [my children’s] growing up in 
horrible chunks of time that left me feeling as if I was being hollowed out.

Frank Schaeffer in Crazy for God

I'm trying to figure out why all of a sudden I'm listening to Christian music from the 70s and 80s. I rarely listen to music, much less go back into my childhood and revisit bands that I haven't thought of in years.

At the same time, my wife went to a recital of some singer friends back home and she gave me an honest appraisal, something one certainly never does in polite company. After a concert, it's always "Oh, how wonderful!" Or … "Wow, you were great."

Singers lie.

Following a dream of singing on the stages of the world, at the age of near-40 is not something I would wish on my worst enemy. Which is hard to admit. I have always believed in the power of Will, in determination, in hard work. But real life sets in and one sees the reality: starting a performance career is a young person's game. It's way too hard to begin one with the wisdom maturity brings.

I was one of the lucky ones, having made my debut at NYCO singing Pinkerton at the age of 34. But even that is pretty dang old for singing your first leading role.

Before that was lots of singing in church. But by the time I was leading church services as a worship leader, the music had changed from what it was in my youth. The music I posted yesterday and by the very best bands like Sweet Comfort was FUN. There was joy and booty-shaking youthful (mostly) innocent jamming going on. 

But music in America's mega churches became big business, and slicker by the year. There was money to be made in it, with heart and purse strings to pull. As time went on, Jesus music became less about innocence and more about cozying up the the Risen King and getting a groove on. When I realized it was just as highly sexualized in feel as everything else on the radio I left and never looked back. I didn't want to keep peddling the Son of God as someone's Lover. The innocence of the evangelical movement was set aside as they began moving further into politics and making a theocracy instead of living a humble life in sacrifice to others.

So then came Opera. But in the last year, the productions I'd been doing were more and more serious. Less about the joy of singing and more about The Big Issues. Like computing, systems move from less to more complex. And usually productivity doesn't change.


Somewhere in the last year however, things became less than fun. They got serious. The only way to cope was to Hold On Tight. 

But to what? Certainly nothing was offered in the Castellucci production. One of the most important scenes was Amfortas' monologue at the end of Act 1. He stands surrounded by chorus men dressed in camouflage, slowly pulling layer after layer off. First his shirt. Then his skin, then his muscle. His guts and finally … blackness. To say: man seeks. But there is nothing there. The seeking, not the object, is the Grail.


At the side of the stage, Parsifal stands holding a black circle suspended in mid-air. And that perfectly illustrated where I was too.


One reader (and participant in the Monnaie Parsifal) posted this in the comments a few days ago:

"Walking through the 3rd act of Castellucci's Parsifal had also impact on me others. He touched a lot of people by asking very profound questions for those who wanted to see them, and didn't gave the answers to those questions. "Where are we going to?" "What are we searching for?" "Why are we in a community?" "Do I need a community?" "Can I live another way?" "Do I have to change my way of living?" "Can/may I live?" are a few of those questions who make someone stand still and think about the purpose and essence of life itself. It took a while until I walked again in crowded street without thinking about Parsifal."

So hollowed out was I by grappling with these questions, the darkness of despair overtook this singer who spends too much time alone in hotel rooms hiding from life. We singers so often become hermits out of fear of catching a cold. We often lack things that keep us balanced and well. And where there is despair, there is desperation. The harder we hold on, the more illusive things become. Big Issues included.

No more. I will no more hold on to Nothing.

I began to allow myself not to know things. I began to find the power of saying "I don't know." Taking one's focus off of Dogma does not mean hope subsides. It means it increases. And so does Trust.

I don't know if that singer my wife heard will have a career. But she has my respect for hoping for one.