Instrumental Prayers in Unlikely Locations

Last night after a very full day, I dropped by the State Street Grill to hear the David Liebman Group. Liebman is one of the world's greatest living saxophonists. His drummer Marko Marcinko has a steady gig at the Grill, and Marko invited his world-renowned employer to play a couple sets of standards at the Clarks Summit bistro.

It was stunning. Overwhelming. Powerful. Visceral. Somehow I ended up in a chair three feet from the stage, and had the chance to meet the composer/saxophonist who has stretched my ears since the late 70's. Lieb was in fine form. He is an extraordinary musician, the foremost interpreter of the musical tradition of John Coltrane.

During the break, we had a conversation at my table about the power of this music. "They're taking risks, not playing it safe" was the consensus. We agreed that most of the music we hear these days is far too tame. Lieb links us to the surging jazz of the 60's, where musicians put themselves on the front line of adventure. Begin a tune, and it's a journey forward. It will take some twists and turns, but the trip can be as interesting as the destination.

This is an interesting description of prayer. Imagine prayer so honest, so deeply engaging, so imaginative, so unconscious of time limits. Imagine prayer that can speak either quietly or in full rage. Of course, this is the power of the psalms -- and there must be ways to pray them as they are given to us.

Liebman said he'd love to play at our church sometime. Apparently Marko and Tony Marino have spread the word of our congregation's hospitality. Perhaps we can get him to play some of Coltrane's prayers channeled through his own imagination. It would expand our range, to be sure.

As we experienced in the Clarks Summit bistro last evening, honest and passionate music connects us to the primal forces of God's creation. The surging creativity of generous artists harmonizes with the Creator.

Last month, I stood in front of Van Gogh's "The Starry Night" and had a similar experience. Vincent didn't play it safe either. His stars don't have five points or resemble sloppy asterisks. They are full of activity and motion. Of course. With all of those swirls and textures, Van Gogh's stars appeared as God's fingerprints, still dancing with light.