A Leap of Faith

The Rev. Bruce Frederick Joseph Springsteen
A piece of treasure rescued from a yard sale in New Jersey.
The owner gave it to me for "safe keeping".

I, and several of my close friends, feel that Bruce Springsteen is the greatest artist of our lifetime. Okay, I do realize this is not a bold statement. His resume is impressive: 17 Platinum selling albums; 12 Grammy wards; 1999 Rock& Roll Hall of Fame Inductee. But what if we were to remove these accomplishments, would you feel differently? We wouldn’t. The accolades mean little to us. You see, the “greatness” I speak of comes from deep within our hearts and souls. It is here that Bruce Springsteen and the “E” street band are forever entwined with our fondest memories. These are the unbreakable ties that bind our friendship and brotherhood. In this light, and sorry U2, there is no close second.

These ties began to form in high school when, driven by the spirit in the night, we would unite in drunken serenades of such classics as "Badlands", "The River" and "Rosalita(Come Out tonite)". With the second coming of the "Born In The USA Tour" we found ourselves camping outside a local Hecht's department store for 5 glorious days. This commitment to the cause earned us the right to participate in a service like no other. On August 5th ,1985, together with 60,000 other students, we graduated from the school of the faithful, Magna Cum Laude. Growin up meant moving on from our local parishes, and, being true disciples, our dedication followed. One friend, upon hearing tickets were to go on sale, hastily left his girlfriend on top of the mountain. We have been tossed out of bars for dancing in the dark. And, most recently, we took our passion overseas, tutoring Paris'ners on what it takes to prove it all night.

Unfortunately, there has been a secession in the rank and file of the faith full. It all began when, in the summer of 2003, Bruce unleashed some rather nasty comments directed at President George W. Bush. However, our collective strength outweighed his indiscretions. We could still find a reason to believe. But, much to our dismay, more rumblings would be heard over the following months. A cloud of concern continued to linger over us. Then, like the shattering of Krakatua, Mt. Bruce finally blew. With his public support of Senator John Kerry, together with the "Concerts For Change", Bruce turned what was once a congregation overflowing with joy and togetherness into an orgy of partisan self interest. A movement driven more by ego and self righteousness, then the exploration of a one man's struggle with the human condition. The result, of little surprise to us, was nothing more then an childish display of political buffoonery. Easily excusable if you're a politician, but what if your a local hero.........?

In a series of emails serious questions were asked between us. Should artists take on the role of politicians? Is Bruce acting out of character? Can I separate my love from the disgust? Answering these required each individual to search his soul, a spiritual journey which lead to the making of some difficult personal decisions. Sadly, the most dramatic of these resulted in the loss of a few of my comrades. They will no longer be present and accounted among those "that have a notion, a notion deep inside" (1). Thankfully, the darkness did not overcome all, the light still shines upon a chosen few. I speak of the true believers, individuals such as my brother Bill, who, some 25 years ago, baptized me in the river. And, as for me, although I do not agree with Bruce's perspective, I understand that his political activism, along with the desire to voice it, is a critical component of his creative talent. Without it I do not feel Bruce would the instrumental part of my life that he is today. For this the others may say I am blinded by the light, and they may be right, but I prefer to call it a leap of faith.

In a few moments I will remove the plastic cover from the latest chapter from the Book of Bruuuuce. Placing the CD into the tray, pressing the play button, I'll listen to the sermon. With lyrics in hand I will follow along with the written word. But, my mind will not be limited to the here and now, certain will I be to reflect on days past, and of the future, asking myself - "If I call and ask him to go will he really turn me down?" Well, I don't think I'll ever find out. I feel no compulsion to go after those that have strayed from the herd. After all, the smaller the flock, the easier it should be to get to the water, right? On this note should you be blessed enough to have tickets to the May 14th Show at the Patriot Center, please consider making a donation to the cause. It's been well over year since I had a drink, and I am die'n of thirst!

This ticket stub is from a pilgrimage
to our "Mecca" made in the summer of 1999.


(1) Book of Bruuuce. The River, Badlands (V.32-33)


Jonah Speaks

Jonah Speaks
Artwork by Connell Byrne
Written by Connell, Gary and John by way of the Book of Jonah.

And God Appointed a Worm

So there I was, going about my usual business, happy with life. Had I not just recently proclaimed good news from the Lord to Israel? I thanked God for my happiness. Then, the thing all but fools dread happened. Yes, I tell the truth, I have no reason to lie. It came without warning. I heard the voice. A voice that was at once around me, in me, and through me.

" ARISE , AND GO TO THE GREAT CITY OF NINEVEH AND CRY AGAINST IT! FOR THEIR WICKEDNESS HAS COME UP BEFORE ME!"

Nineveh! That awful place? It was not referred to as the city of bloodshed for nothing, a vile and dangerous place. Well, I had no intention of going anywhere near Nineveh, so I packed up what little of my eager possessions I could carry and made my way to the harbor in Joppa to seek passage on a ship. The farther away from home and God the better. There I paid the fare, joined the crew, and we sailed to Tarshish.

I was surrounded by a crew made up of heathen polytheist, men who worshipped capricious and whimsical gods. During the journey I sat in my bunk alone. My mind wandered like a ghostly ship on an endless sea. I then thought of my former life: my home, my family, the friends I left behind. I thought of God, and I wept until I thought my tears would fill the whole ship, causing it to flounder and sink, taking me down to the depths alone.

I put these gloomy thoughts behind me and was beginning to think that my escape had been successful. But this idea was short lived, for just then a great wind was hurled at the sea, and a terrifying storm came upon us. The sea arose from its depths in towering mountains, and our tiny ship was tossed to and fro with a force that I thought would shatter us completely, so that the sea may devour us.

How long the sea toyed with us I can not say, for my terror had dissolved any sense of time. Realizing we were gripped mercilessly in it's clutch, the crews panic turned to frenzy; each man cried to his own god for help. They threw the cargo overboard in vain hope that the lightened ship could survive the wrath of the storm. Meanwhile, below in the dark, I fell asleep.

It was out of a dreamless slumber that I was jolted awake by the captain shouting at me, " How is it you are sleeping? Get up and call on your god to save us!". I was dragged from my bunk and carried up on deck where the crew cast lots to learn on whose account this calamity had struck, and the lot fell on me. It was then I told them the story of how I came to be a passenger on their ship, and how I had fled from the Lord.

Hearing this the men grew even more afraid. "What shall we do with a man like you ?", they asked.

"Just pick me up and throw me into the sea, then it will be calm." I muttered.

However, the crew could not do such a thing. They tried without hope to row to safety, but the fury of the tempest was against them. At last, tired and desperate, they prayed to the Lord for help and threw me into the sea; only then did it stop its raging.

Down, down, down I was pulled deeper into the abyss. My eyes burned, my lungs could no longer hold back the strength of the sea, my mind swam into delirium. And I thought, " So this is it; I AM GOING TO DIE NOW!".

I awoke in darkness - not just any darkness, but blackness - black as pitch. My body, which I knew was there for I could feel it, was lost in the void. After the shock of my blindness had eased sufficiently, I grew slowly aware of a scent. Faint at first, then stronger until it became a stench, a stench I thought must be the foulest odor ever to assault the nostrils of a man. Here time was only a memory, something I once knew. The rising and setting of the sun held no sway, so I sat in the muck, surrounded by the foul smelling black. And when my reason returned, I fell into a despair. And prayed......

When I had finished praying, my black grave shook violently. I was thrown about with such force that I was cast out of that awful darkness, into the blinding light of day. Only then did I realize what shape my lightless prison held. It was a fish, a great mountain of a fish, it coughed and shook at the shoreline. Then the great beast turned, made its way past the breakers and disappeared beneath the waves. I was clutching at the sand, wave upon wave crashed over me. Salt water poured into my flesh, it left raw and burned by the inner juices of the fish. The pain was unbearable. Overcome by shock and disgust I swooned and fell to the ground. There I lay, as if dead.

I awoke to a voice that at the same time surrounded me and passed through me. It was the same voice that had caused me to flee from my homeland.

"ARISE AND GO TO NINEVEH THE GREAT CITY, AND SAY THIS. 'IN 40 DAYS, NINEVEH WILL BE OVERTHROWN.' "

It was with great anxiety that I went into the city and proclaimed God's coming wrath. For three days, in every corner of Nineveh, I bore witness to Gods burning anger and the approaching doom. Then, the unthinkable happened. Every beast, every man, every woman, every noble, every prince, every member of the royal family, even the king fasted. They put on sackcloth and ashes and turned from their wickedness and violence, so that God would also turn, and withdraw his consuming rage.

Now, when I realized the Lord had sent me all this way, through that horrific storm, and suffered in the belly of that foul smelling monster, just to announce a disaster that would never come, I became angry. "Take my life for death is better!" I said, chastising God.

" JONAH, DO YOU A HAVE A GOOD REASON TO BE ANGRY?"

I pretended not listen and went out from Nineveh. In a spot just east of the city, I came to rest. Gathering together some twigs, branchs and stones I made a shelter. Once completed, I looked down upon the city and relaxed. After a short time I noticed a plant growing in my compound. It's numerous vines and leaves formed a thick canopy above my head. I was very happy about the vine. It not only made for pleasant sanctuary, but I felt a true sense of joy witnessing this fresh green plant thriving in the midst of the burnt-up Tigris plain. It did not last. Come the dawn a worm attacked. There, before my own eyes, my poor beautiful plant was violently pulled down. Mortally wounded, it withered, and died. Then came a scorching easterly wind, the scirocco. Every particle of moisture seemed to be pulled from around me, from within me. I felt my skin being pulled taut around the framework of my bones. The sudden change was physically irritating as well as heavy on the soul. Finally, with the burning sun beating down on my head, I cried out once again for death to come.

"SO JONAH, YOUR ARE ANGRY ABOUT THE PLANT. YOU FEEL SORRY FOR THIS PLANT, A PLANT FOR WHICH YOU DID NOT LIFT A FINGER IN TOIL. A PLANT, WHICH YOU DID NOT CAUSE TO GROW. IT CAME UP OVER NIGHT AND PERISHED OVERNIGHT. "

"I WILL HAVE COMPASSION ON THE GREAT CITY OF NINEVEH, FOR IN THAT CITY THERE ARE MORE THAN 120,00 PERSONS WHO DO NOT KNOW THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN THEIR RIGHT AND LEFT HANDS, AS MANY ANIMALS. SHOULD I NOT BE CONCERNED ABOUT THE GREAT CITY?. "

I was speechless, I felt my whole self melt into a pitiful pool of useless pride. I waited for God to speak again, knowing that upon It I would certainly evaporate into nothingness and be no more. Fortunately, God was again silent.

Spring Forward

Artwork by Connell Patrick Byrne

The following poem was written by a friend. Although we have known each other for only a short time, our relationship is a close one. Diagnosed with HIV some 25 years ago, he has learned to overcome the fear that death is but only a cold away. I admire him a great deal for the battle he fights is a private one, and few know of his courage. It is something I feel with his handshake, see in his smile, and find in his writing. So, before we say good bye to winter, let us pause and reflect, in so doing we "might" look forward to next year.

SNOW

The snow falls gracefully
as it glistens in the night,
it is a beautiful sight.

A peaceful time when precious
moments are evident to the
soul.

Enduring to the care which keeps
asking for more.

A time of romance when
your first love is an eternal memory.
Maybe in distance,
but never apart.

A time when the snow is most enchanting,
it's untouched.

A time when your heart is right,
your mind follows.

A time when your love flows
as it should.

A time when your thoughts
are deep as the ocean
and far as the stars in the sky

A time when you'd go out
of your way to lend a
helping hand to a friend.

A time when your well liked
and when your gone your
spirit lingers on.