Blues, Gospel and All That Jazz

This weekend, February 7^th the Akron Symphony and a chorus of more than 200 gifted amateurs will fill the rafters at EJ Thomas with beautiful music. The rafters and beyond; the very heavens will open up to listen. It's the 16^th annual Gospel Meets Symphony, or GMS as the patrons, mothers and fathers of the event call it. Let's be plain, a lot of this is about being the sons and daughters, however many generations removed, of slaves. Not just being black, or African American if you prefer, but of being the survivors of a bitter tradition where song and style were critical for making it through the night.

This week I was reminded in clear tones and soaring spirits that this music means something. Two funerals of a grandfather and a great grandmother celebrated in small, neighborhood churches reminded me of the pitted and dangerous road held together by this music. The first funeral was a simple affair attended by close family. The old lady's man was in his 90's and had suffered from Alzheimer's disease for a number of years. But the family he left behind was filled with young people who grew up in the shadow of his pain. The music came not only in the song of a powerful soloist, but in the building cadence of the preacher: preacher, preach on!

That was Saturday. Thursday was a different story. Mother Wells was a quiet woman who attracted people like a magnet. She died young, too. And when her time came her church – her three churches – rose up in song. Three pastors and a deacon set the stage for the main event: Mother Wells' pastor and spiritual guide waited patiently through the tributes and songs, the prayer and the other small, but no less moving sermons. He waited as the others scaled back their song, just a little. But the call and response, the unity through the spirit and century's old foundation help firm, even as the old church shook. My friend Art was seated next to me. He had not really been to a Baptist Service like this one. And when the pastor ramped up, there was gospel in every soul, every breath and every Amen – "can I get a witness up in here?"

Many of us take this flight every week, sometimes twice and three times. But you can get the same elation, the same sense of history, faith and rigid determination that led our American family from second-class citizens to the very seat of power. This Saturday the journey becomes clearer, and available to all. I hope you can spend a few hours Saturday night to visit America. It's so much nicer without having to say goodbye.