Posts Tagged ‘Bob Dylan’

John Lennon was, however briefly, a “born-again Christian” in 1977

April 10, 2013
imagine

Billboards such as this one graced the busy Atlanta streets a couple of years ago.

After rejecting the Christianity of his staid Anglican upbringing in the late-’50s and flirting with a form of Hinduism embraced wholeheartedly by George Harrison in the late-’60s, wasn’t John Lennon finally done with religion and spirituality during the last decade of his life? Didn’t he become a hard-nosed philosophical materialist?

No—although we might be forgiven for thinking otherwise: After all, according to his 1970 song “God,” Jesus and Buddha were two of many persons or things he no longer believed in. And in the song that has become an anthem to atheism, “Imagine,” Lennon challenges us to imagine no religion or heaven—that the world would be a better place without faith in God.

But his expressed atheism of 1970 and ’71 told only part of the story. Throughout the ’70s, Lennon regularly consulted psychics and dabbled in Tarot cards, séances, astrology, numerology, and other occult practices. Upon reading (and recently re-reading) Steve Turner’s Gospel According to the Beatles, however, what surprises me most was Lennon’s renewed interest in, and tantalizingly brief embrace of, that thing to which he seemed most adamantly opposed: Christianity.

This change of heart didn’t come from reading, say, Chesterton or Lewis, as we might have liked. It came by way of televangelists such as Oral Roberts and Pat Robertson. Turner describes it as follows:

Next came one of the most extraordinary turnabouts in John’s life. A television addict for many years…, he enjoyed watching some of America’s best-known evangelists—Pat Robertson, Billy Graham, Jim Bakker, and Oral Roberts. In 1972 he had written a desperate letter to Roberts confessing his dependence on drugs and his fear of facing up to “the problems of life.” He expressed regret that he had said that the Beatles were more popular than Jesus and enclosed a gift for the Oral Roberts University… “Explain to me what Christianity can do for me. Is it phony? Can He love me? I want out of hell.”[1]

Lennon and Roberts exchanged a series of friendly, heartfelt letters, which can be found at the library of Oral Roberts University.

The correspondence and his exposure to TV evangelism didn’t appear to have any effect until he suddenly announced to close friends in the spring of 1977 that he’d become a born-again Christian… Over the following months he baffled those close to him by constantly praising “the Lord,” writing Christian songs with titles like “Talking with Jesus” and “Amen” (the Lord’s Prayer set to music), and trying to convert nonbelievers. He also called the prayer line of The 700 Club, Pat Robertson’s program.[2]

Yoko Ono, who always discouraged Lennon from following “gurus,” opposed his newfound faith, although he took Ono and his son Sean to church at least once.

Those close to the couple sensed that the real reason [Ono] was concerned was that it threatened her control over John’s life. If he became a follower of Jesus he would no longer depend on her an the occultists. During long, passionate arguments she attacked the key points of his fledgling faith. They met with a couple of Norwegian missionaries whom Yoko questioned fiercely about the divinity of Christ, knowing that this was the teaching that John had always found the most difficult to accept. Their answers didn’t satisfy her, and John began to waver in his commitment.[3]

Such is often the case with freelance conversions, I suppose, separated as they are from the wisdom and guidance of mature Christians. It’s hard enough to maintain one’s Christian faith within a healthy community of believers!

When Dylan’s Christian conversion became public in 1979 with the release of Slow Train Coming, Lennon—Dylan’s nearest rival in the pantheon of rock idols—reacted strongly. In response to Dylan’s “Gotta Serve Somebody,” Lennon wrote a bitter “answer song” called “Serve Yourself,” posthumously released on the John Lennon Anthology.

When asked in 1980 about his response to Dylan’s conversion, John was less than honest. He said he was surprised that “old Bobby boy did go that way,” but “if he needs it, let him do it.” His only objection, he said, was that Dylan was presenting Christ as the only way. He disliked this because “There isn’t one answer to anything.”… In what can now be seen as an allusion to his own born-again period, which hadn’t yet been made public, he said, “But I understand it. I understand him completely, how he got in there, because I’ve been frightened enough myself to want to latch onto something.[4]

Steve Turner wrote an article about Lennon’s short-lived conversion in Christianity Today back in 2000, which you can read here.

1. Steve Turner, The Gospel According to the Beatles (Louisville: WJK, 2006), 187-8.

2. Ibid., 188.

3. Ibid., 189.

4. Ibid., 191.

N.T. Wright sings Dylan

May 8, 2012

There’s simply nothing about this that I don’t love: my favorite theologian sings one of my favorite songs by my favorite artist. I knew he was a fan; I’ve heard him quote Dylan in his books and lectures. But this is special.

“You Ain’t Goin’ Nowhere”

November 14, 2011

Last Friday, Vinebranch played host to its best Coffeehouse yet. (Coffeehouse, in case you’re not from around here, is a free music event that Vinebranch worship leader Stephanie Newton organizes in the fall and spring.) I performed the Dylan song “You Ain’t Goin’ Nowhere” with the Vinebranch Band. This version of the song was made famous by the Byrds on their Sweetheart of the Rodeo album in 1968.

For whatever reason, I’ve never been less nervous singing and playing in front of people. I hope you can tell that we’re having a lot of fun.

Troy Davis and cost-free compassion

September 22, 2011

The state of Georgia became the object of scorn this week by executing Troy Davis, who was convicted of murdering a cop in Savannah in 1989. Evidence since his conviction casts some doubt on whether Davis did it—how much doubt I have no idea. I have no reason to imagine that Georgia’s pardons and parole board was acting in anything other than good faith. Regardless, Davis insisted that he was innocent up to his death. Many public figures—from Jimmy Carter (predictably) to politicians with solidly conservative bona fides like former U.S. Representative Bob Barr—opposed the execution, as did a former FBI Director, William Sessions.

It was funny the way many news reports also included Pope Benedict XVI in this list of opponents. They might have explained that since the Roman Catholic Church opposes capital punishment in general, the pontiff’s stance would only be newsworthy if he did support the death penalty for Davis!

I hope that my heart hasn’t become numb to these types of stories. Unlike many of my colleagues in ministry, and other Facebook friends, I didn’t feel any deep emotional investment in the outcome of Davis’s last-minute appeals. After all, I’ve lived in a death-penalty state all my life (except for that brief period in the ’70s when the U.S. Supreme Court banned it because of its unfair application). It’s not like I needed the Davis case to wake me up to the sobering reality of it—or to the likelihood that innocent people have been and will continue to be executed, whether Davis, in this case, “did it” or not.

Yesterday, a Facebook friend posted, indignantly, that she can’t believe that people are getting more worked up about yesterday’s changes to the Facebook newsfeed than they are to the fact that the state is going to execute someone. I wasn’t sure what to do with that. As long as Georgia has the death penalty, they (or should I say we?) will continue to kill people with it. If not Davis, then somebody else really soon. If not in Georgia, then in some other state in our union.

If we had to wait for tragedies to cease before we could resume our normal life, who could get on with living? We all have 24/7 access to every kind of tragedy, evil, and injustice if we choose to avail ourselves of it.

The whole spectacle of the Troy Davis story reminds me of a 1975 Bob Dylan song called “Black Diamond Bay,” which describes the last fateful moments in the lives of several people living on a tiny resort island that literally explodes from a volcanic eruption. The last verse shifts abruptly to the perspective of someone (presumably Dylan himself) learning about the disaster on TV:

I was sitting home alone one night in LA
Watching old Cronkite on the seven o’clock news
It seems there was an earthquake that
Left nothing but a Panama hat
And a pair of old Greek shoes
Didn’t seem like much was happening
So I turned it off and went to grab another beer
Seems like every time you turn around
There’s another hard-luck story that you’re gonna hear
And there’s really nothing anyone can say
And I never did plan to go anyway
To Black Diamond Bay.

For me, TV (and the internet) flattened the whole tragic story of the murdered police officer, Mark MacPhail, and his family—not to mention Troy Davis and his family—to just “another hard-luck story” that I’m going to hear when I turn on the news.

The media make events like this one seem unreal to me—too abstract, too distant. I don’t know the facts of the events in question. I don’t know these people on my screen. I don’t know the truth. I could muster some compassion for them, but how do I know my compassion is real, and not simply manufactured by media producers who are trying to tell me a good story—which means better ratings and more ad revenue?

How do I know that my “compassion” isn’t instead a voyeuristic kind of entertainment?

I am, along with the United Methodist Church (see ¶ 164.f of the Book of Discipline), opposed to the death penalty in all cases. As long as we safely imprison murderers so that they are no longer a danger to others, we can afford to wait on God’s justice to be done. Besides, God implements his own death penalty at the end of our natural lives. No one escapes it. And no one escapes justice in the long run. God sees to it.

So here I am, opposing the death penalty. Big deal. Unless or until I can do something about it in a meaningful way, what am I supposed to do about Troy Davis? I trust that God placed compassionate people in his life to help him, and that compassionate people are helping his family now. I trust that God has placed compassionate people in the lives of Officer MacPhail’s family. I’m obviously not one of those people.

Posting angry words about it on Facebook or even on a blog(!) hardly counts as meaningful action. It’s cost-free compassion. I need costly compassion. And that starts with people I know and people who are within my sphere of influence—people I feel called to care for.

In the meantime, I’m turning off the news again.

People walking out? It must be a great film!

July 1, 2011

Sean Penn in "The Tree of Life" (Photo courtesy of Merle Wallis/Fox Searchlight Pictures)

At the end of its screening at Cannes, where the movie took home the Palme D’Or, the festival’s award for best film, part of the audience applauded, and part of the audience booed. When I read about that, I knew I would love The Tree of Life. I was on writer/director Terrence Malick’s side, even though at the time I had never seen a movie by him. (He did co-write the screenplay for Dirty Harry, however, which I have seen.)

I was on his side because one of my favorite theologians had given him the thumbs up, and I had a hunch that if one were going to make a serious and stunningly beautiful movie that purports to say, among other things, that a loving God is responsible for our universe and the life within it, how else should it be received except as deeply divisive? On the art-house circuit, the most acclaimed filmmakers usually get props for creating films that are shockingly ugly, violent, and destructive. What happens when a filmmaker makes the antithesis of that—something shockingly beautiful? Witness the reaction to The Tree of Life.

It reminds me of my favorite artist. Listen to Bob Dylan’s Live 1966: The “Royal Albert Hall” Concert and listen to the divided reaction that he got from his audience. (This was the performance at which someone shouted, “Judas!” Dylan said, “I don’t believe you. You’re a liar!”) This is what artists have to do sometimes. They can’t wait for the audience to catch up with them. But they’re proven right in the long run—not that it matters to them.

With that in mind, I listened with amusement to an NPR All Things Considered piece yesterday (full audio not available) on the unusually large number of people walking out on the movie and asking for a refund. One theater manager described what was happening in his theater.

About 25 to 30 minutes into the film, he says, when it goes into “celestial, very beautiful space photography … that’s usually the first point that people walk out on. … There’s absolutely no narration and no narrative to it whatsoever, so I think people aren’t ready to necessarily accept that.”

And as the 5 to 10 percent of the audience that typically walks out leaves, he says, “they’re either angry or they’re baffled.” They’re wondering what the critically acclaimed film about a Texas family of the ’50s, starring Brad Pitt and Jessica Chastain, is all about.

I guess we Atlantans are more sophisticated than audiences in the Northeast. I didn’t notice anyone leaving.

Not to sound like your grandpa, but with all the garbage American moviegoers pay money for and sit through, they walk out on this? It boggles the mind. Except… The flip side is that 90 to 95 percent are staying, and the box office returns are good enough for it to stay in theaters another week. And many, perhaps most, people who’ve seen it have loved it. So stop being so grumpy, Brent!

For Dylan’s 70th birthday

May 24, 2011

Today is Bob Dylan’s 70th birthday. No one, I imagine, outside of my wife and immediate family has had a greater impact on my life.

My first exposure to Bob Dylan’s music was singing “Blowin’ in the Wind” in first-grade music class in 1976 or ’77. I remember knowing, even at that young age, who Dylan was—that he was a popular and important singer. (The mid-’70s were his commercial peak, so his name was out there a lot.) The song spoke to me in a way that “Froggy Went a-Courtin’” and “Erie Canal” and whatever else we were singing didn’t. I remember it made me feel sad, which probably for the first time in my life also made me feel good. Isn’t that the nature of great art?

But I didn’t catch up with Dylan again until around 1981. One of our low-powered UHF stations showed re-runs of Saturday Night Live. I saw Dylan’s controversial 1979 appearance—his only one to date—in which he performed three songs from his then-new gospel album Slow Train Coming. As a good Baptist boy, I appreciated that he was singing songs about Jesus—and it was kind of weird and cool that he was doing it so far away from the friendly confines of church—but I honestly couldn’t get past his voice. I thought he was nothing less than the worst singer I had ever heard. So raw, so unpolished, so unsuitable for network TV.

The irony was that within four years, I would come to regard him as the best singer I’d ever heard, an opinion I maintain to this day. And, no, I’m not talking about his voice at this very moment. Between the 22 years of non-stop touring and who-knows-how-many-cigarettes, there isn’t much of it left. But he is 70 years old, for heaven’s sake! He has nothing to prove. Besides, even now—I’m thinking of last year’s performance of “The Times They Are A-Changin” at the White House—his voice, which often gets lost these days in large concert halls, can still summon that old power and authority.

And I’d still rather listen to Dylan croak out a tune than to anyone else sing at their auto-tuned prettiest—which is why his album of Christmas standards from a couple of years ago is my favorite of the genre.

But outsiders have always complained about Dylan’s voice, even when he was in his youthful prime in the mid-’60s, making the greatest records and writing the greatest songs of all time. His voice is an acquired taste, I suppose. Like coffee. Which, come to think of it, I also hated the first time I had it and is now my favorite beverage.

But I don’t abide people who patronizingly tell me that they think he’s a “great songwriter” but they can’t stand his singing. The key to “getting” Dylan is understanding that he is, first and foremost, a great singer. He writes songs that are faithful to his voice, which is why his performances of his songs are usually the definitive ones.

Regardless, what finally sealed my fate when it came to Dylan was getting Dylan’s career-spanning boxed set, Biograph, for Christmas in 1985. The first song from this collection that grabbed me by the throat and shook me was “The Lonesome Death of Hattie Carroll.” It was on Side 2 of the box’s first record—that side devoted to his early protest era. That was it. I was hooked.

What resonated with me about Dylan back then and continues to do so is this: If you remain faithful to your own voice—if you can risk being that authentic and honest—then you have a voice that’s worth hearing. Dylan has remained fearlessly true to his, literally and figuratively.

By doing so, Dylan gave me the courage to find my own voice. Perhaps other people wouldn’t need an artist to do that for them, but for whatever reason—self-confidence was never my strong suit—I did.

One legacy of this is that I have the courage to stand in front of people each week and, well… mostly talk for a living. “Fearing not that I’d become my enemy/ In the instant that I preach,” I guess. ;-)

Thank you and God bless you, Bob.

“If you find a place like that, I’ll go there, too”

March 28, 2011

When I was a freshman in college in 1988, I discovered Keith Green by way of a compilation from Sparrow Records called The Ministry Years, Vol. 1: 1977-1979. It formed—alongside Dylan’s Bringing It All Back Home—the soundtrack for that particular year of my life. Lest you think that Dylan and Green shouldn’t be mentioned in the same sentence, please note that Dylan himself, in the throes of his recent conversion to Christianity, played harmonica on a Green song called “Pledge My Head to Heaven.”

In fact, according to a new book by Michael Gilmour entitled The Gospel According to Bob Dylan, a scholarly analysis of religion in Dylan’s music, Dylan and Keith and Melody Green struck up a friendship. To the surprise of the Greens themselves, Dylan even asked them, over dinner one night, to review and assess the lyrical content of the songs that would make up Dylan’s soon-to-be-released gospel album, Slow Train Coming.

Regardless, song for song, Ministry Years, Vol. 1 would have to rank as one of the best albums in my entire music collection. I’ve complained elsewhere that the music of early Christian rock—mostly long out of print and unknown even to Christians who listen to CCM today—is in danger of being lost to history. This is a real shame.

One philosophical difference between Christian rock then and Christian rock today, as you might sense from the video below, is that the songs weren’t simply preaching to the choir. They were often directed to non-churchgoers and spoke to broader social concerns, especially compared to the happy-clappy Christian music of today. In a way, early Christian rock is a form of protest music, spiritually akin to folk-rock of ’60s or even punk in the ’70s.

If you don’t know anything about the music, you may as well start with Ministry Years. There is also a Vol. 2, which covers Green from ’80 through ’82, the year he died in a plane crash, but that collection left me cold. I haven’t heard it in years, so I can’t say exactly why. I remember that, musically, it was much softer, more ballad-heavy. Its themes were more generic, its tone preachier. Still, I think I was mostly disappointed that it didn’t measure up to Vol. 1—but what album could?

The following is one of my favorite Green songs. Yes, there is a strong vocal and musical resemblance to Elton John. (This was the ’70s after all, and Green was a piano player.) And, no, I’m not commenting on the aesthetic quality of the video itself. Just listen to the song! (Stupid copyright laws! EMI won’t let us watch the video outside of YouTube. Click on the video below, and you’ll be directed to it—or just click here.)

Here’s my favorite verse:

Oh, I came running when I got the news that you were crying
Oh, my friend has life been so unkind to you?
You say you want to find a place where people are not lying
If you find a place like that, I’ll go there, too!

My Ph.D. in Dylanology

January 24, 2011

I could totally see myself getting a Ph.D. in theology if I could write a cool dissertation like this.

Dylan: “Well, I am a true believer.”

November 27, 2009

Bob Dylan recorded three albums of overtly Christian or gospel songs between 1979 and 1981. He was at that time very public about his conversion to Christianity and, for a while, only performed his new material. Since then, he’s mostly returned to making “secular” music. (The scare quotes indicate my rejection of the distinction between “Christian” and “secular” music: all good music is deeply spiritual and religious, in my opinion.) It has become a cliche for writers and journalists to say that Dylan “renounced” his Christian faith around 1983, in spite of the following evidence: Dylan never stopped performing much of his gospel-era songs; he continues to pepper his songs with biblical allusions; he speaks often about faith in God (here’s one random example), including a 2004 interview with Ed Bradley on 60 Minutes; and several years ago, he recorded a new version of his explicitly Christian Slow Train Coming song “Change My Way of Thinking” with Mavis Staples for a gospel tribute CD.

Still, since most critics and journalists ignore all this evidence and accept the cliche that he abandoned his faith, Dylan’s new Christmas charity album has confounded many people. Does Dylan really mean these words he’s singing? Bill Flanagan, whose interview with Dylan was published this week, elicited this exchange:

BF: You really give a heroic performance of O’ LITTLE TOWN OF BETHLEHEM The way you do it reminds me a little of an Irish rebel song. There’s something almost defiant in the way you sing, “The hopes and fears of all the years are met in thee tonight.”  I don’t want to put you on the spot, but you sure deliver that song like a true believer.

BD: Well, I am a true believer.

What bothers me is the unspoken presumption that an artist of Dylan’s stature must be putting his listeners on. “He can’t really believe all that, can he?” Why is it so hard to imagine? There are a lot of us “true believers” out here, you know? Read the entire interview, and buy the album if you can. All proceeds support a worthy cause.

“It’s the end of the world as we know it”

November 25, 2009

Do we feel fine? Since this Sunday is the first Sunday of Advent, we (along with most of the Church Universal) will be examining that topic as we look at Luke 21:25-36. Since it’s my favorite R.E.M. song, and the best “list song” this side of Dylan’s “Subterranean Homesick Blues,” now is a good time to link to a nice live version. I don’t know what the end of the world has to do with Leonard Bernstein, Lenny Bruce, Lester Bangs, or Leonid Brezhnev, but who cares? What a great song!

Seriously, how do pop-culture images of the end of the world (here’s one recent and popular example) compare and contrast with our Christian hope? The Bible, after all, doesn’t teach simply the end of the world, but the end of the world as we know it. That distinction means everything.

"Ryan started the fire!"Finally, wanna know what the worst “list song” ever is? Well, here’s a very funny parody of it for you “Office” fans out there.

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