Paddy O’Meara observes that the poetry and songs of Johnny Cash, Patrick Kavanagh and Kris Kristofferson have touched the hearts of countless people – touched them in a way that hymns, sermons, or the Bible may never have. There are lessons here for the institutional church.
On the day the news broke that Johnny Cash had died, the entire Mystery Train programme on RTE Radio 1 was given over to his music. At the start of the show, the presenter announced that the first half-hour would be dedicated to the deceased singer. But the response from listeners was so positive the presenter, John Kelly, continued to play material by Cash for the entire two-hour duration of the show. (It was later repeated due to public demand.)
What was it about this singer that made him so appealing? The two-hour show on the occasion of his death conveyed effectively the vast range of his output. While I like his singing, I can’t claim to have the competence to assess the quality of his music. I suspect, however, that what made him so popular was the man behind the songs. He had adopted the title of the ‘Man in Black,’ yet had colour, conviction, and an honest humanity that reached out to a wide range of people.
Spiritual spark
Since his death, I have reflected often on the spiritual aspect of the man, and it is probably unwise to attempt to separate that element from his music. Could it be that what made him so special and unique was the fact that many of his songs were shot through with a spiritual spark?
While his Christian faith was central to his life, he was not preachy about it. It was expressed more in his empathy with prisoners, his support for musicians going through lean times, and his concern for all those down on their luck.
Most people know that as a young man he became addicted to prescription drugs and misused alcohol. It was June Carter, later to be his wife, who encouraged him to attend church at a stage when he was trying to break his drug habit. At the time, he was reluctant to take that step, feeling he was not ready. But he eventually agreed to go along with her to The First Baptist Church in Hendersonville, Tennessee. This proved to be a crucial turning point that was to have a huge influence on the rest of his life.
Some time later, he and June married. “They considered their marriage – the fact that they had found each other – to be a miracle of their faith. Their marriage was an absolute religious experience for both of them.” (Time, Sept. 22, 2003).
Prodigal Son
Can Johnny Cash be seen as a type of 20th century Prodigal Son? Christianity certainly needs more people of that kind. Individuals with the stamp of basic humanity who have come through hard battles and still managed to maintain a sense of balance.
Up until about 30 years ago, the Catholic Church kept its flock in line largely through fear and control. Those times have gone, and the major challenge for the church now is how to attract women and men to the gospel way of life rather than frightening them or putting them off.
One of the problems is that the message is so often delivered in an intellectual manner. Spiritual books, bishops’ pastorals, and papal encyclicals are important but unlikely to be read by ‘ordinary Catholics.’ Much less are they going to touch those who have left the flock – the ‘stray sheep’ Jesus was so concerned for.
If someone like Johnny Cash can be likened to the Prodigal Son in the famous parable, then the teaching church – the clergy and hierarchy – tend to reflect the attitude of the older brother. Obedience is given a high priority; do your duty, play safe, don’t take risks. As a result, the church is usually portrayed as dull, boring, and lacking in vitality.
Gerard W. Hughes, S.J., wrote a fine book some years ago, entitled The God of Surprises, (Darton, Longman and Todd, London). If ours is a God of surprises, isn’t it remarkable that most people, including committed Catholics, regard the church as being utterly predictable?
The church needs its scholars, theologians and intellectuals, but it has lost much of its attraction and freshness because these have been allowed to dominate. We have to appeal to people’s emotional side, and that is why there must be a role for the singers, artists, and poets – people of imagination.
Kristofferson’s conversion
Kris Kristofferson was a friend of Johnny Cash, and their lives had some notable similarities. Both served in the US military as pilots before moving into the music business. Both battled to keep drinking under control, and both experienced the pain of marriage break-up.
RTE Radio I carried an interview with Kris Kristofferson on Easter Monday, 2004. Kristofferson agreed with the comment of the interviewer Joe Jackson that his songs have a spiritual dimension.
He went on to relate a conversion experience he had when things were at a low ebb in his life. He was brought to a prayer meeting but stayed near the back. The preacher announced at some point: “Would anyone who feels lost raise his hand?” Kris said to himself, “There is no way I am putting up my hand.” Yet, he found himself with his hand in the air. He was invited to come up to the front of the hall. Again, he told himself, “I’m certainly not going up there.” But up he went.
The preacher asked him if he was ready to hand over his life to Jesus. He said nothing – he didn’t know what to say. The preacher took the initiative, and pushed him onto his knees. Kristofferson doesn’t remember much about the praying that went on, except there was frequent reference to forgiveness, and he shed an amount of tears.
There are people who are sceptical about these kind of dramatic conversion stories, mainly because they don’t normally occur within the Catholic tradition. However, the gospels are peppered with similar episodes. When Jesus met Zacchaeus, the woman at the well, and Matthew, they too experienced a dramatic transformation.
Kavanagh and the divine presence
And that brings me to Patrick Kavanagh. Countless stories are told about the Monaghan poet when he lived in Dublin and was trying to survive as a poet and journalist. In the author’s note attached to his Collected Poems (Martin Brian & O’Keeffe, London), he writes: “On many occasions I literally starved in Dublin. I often borrowed a ‘shilling for the gas’ when in fact I wanted the coin to buy a chop.”
Many of the stories about Kavanagh are far from complimentary. There are numerous accounts of his conflicts with other writers, and descriptions of how he was barred from certain pubs in the city.
Yet, despite his human failings, he has left us some beautiful poetry. He had an amazing sense of the divine presence in nature, in everyday events, and in simple people. He wrote directly and plainly about God.
It is probably safe to assume that Kavanagh would be astonished to discover that, years after his death, retreat centres run seminars on “The Spirituality of Patrick Kavanagh,” that he is often quoted in Sunday homilies, and discussed in religion class in school.
Which is another indication of how Ireland and the Catholic Church have changed in the years since his death. Hopefully, we are learning that the truth is not the monopoly of a select few learned men, and not confined within some church or institution. Artists, poets, singers, and especially the broken people contribute a piece of the mosaic that is the truth.
Familiar with suffering
Cash, Kavanagh, and Kristofferson were each familiar with suffering, due to rejection, illness and self-inflicted problems. From their pain was distilled the poetry and songs that have touched the hearts of countless people; touched them in a way that hymns, sermons, or the Bible may not.
The Spirit blows where she wills, and avails of unusual methods and people to whisper the divine message of love. After all, the woman at the well was the chosen messenger to bring the people of her village to Jesus.
In his book, Travelling Light (The Columba Press) Daniel J. O’Leary quotes Bearwatcher, an Apache medicine man. “In the Apache language there is no word for ‘guilt.’ There is no word for ‘shame.’ Our lives are like diamonds. When we are born we are pure and uncut. Each thing that happens to us in our lives teaches us how to reflect the light in the world; each experience gives us a new cut, a new facet in our diamond. How brilliantly do those diamonds sparkle whose facets are many, to whom life has given many cuts!”
This article first appeared in Reality (Jan 2005), a publication of the Irish Redemptorists.
