Pray for the Greening of Belfast

I am writing this review at 5 in the morning. I was determined to get a full night’s sleep tonight in order to see Clay Aiken on Good Morning America. But I fell asleep watching Letterman, which meant that the tendrils of the best news I have heard in I-can’t-remember-when reached me a couple hours later from a broadcast of CBS News Up to the Minute. Maybe it was announced earlier and I missed it, but I felt as though I was hearing incredibly significant news just as it was happening, and once I heard it, I was far too excited to sleep. Maybe I’m naive, and this isn’t the avalanche of blessings that it appears to be. But my name is Ireland. My ancestors are from Ireland, and I’ve felt Ireland in my soul for as long as I can remember, as deeply as any of my strongest convictions. And when I hear that the IRA is laying down its arms and vowing to pursue peaceful methods by which to make its message known... Well, that’s about as felicitous occurrence as I can imagine.

As I heard the news, one song was running through my head. A gorgeous song by one of my favorite singer-songwriters, Michael Card. I searched for an hour in search of Starkindler, an album which I thought included not only this particular ode to Ireland but a dozen or so Celtic songs, a mix of traditional tunes and those composed by Card himself. I purchased the tape after seeing him in concert during a tour of the same name in which the instrumentals included an enormous harp in prominence. Unfortunately, it has gone missing, so instead of an entire album dedicated to the land I so love, I’ll settle for the CD on which this song appeared. Upon further investigation, I realized the song was not on Starkindler after all but was only sung during that concert. So I found the appropriate album anyway. Poiḗma is a fairly unusual entry in Card’s extensive discography, as it deals largely with contemporary issues ranging from suicide to failing marriage to the aforementioned strife in Ireland. I get the sense that this is an album filled with very personal songs, whereas most of Card’s other compositions, lyrical and intuitive as they are, derive directly from the Bible. An added bonus is the paragraph or two of introduction that precedes most of the lyrics in the liner notes, providing insight into the inspiration behind these songs.

Poem of Your Life - This opener is closely akin to the title of the album, which Card explains is a Greek word meaning “God’s masterpieces.” It’s a call to action, encouraging each listener to show gratitude for the gift of life by making something worthwhile out of it. Drink in all that life has to offer with your senses alert, and use your own special talents to make a positive impact on the world. This is a pretty upbeat number with a Celtic feel to it. The fiddle and pipes enrich the instrumentation and an a capella chorus towards the end adds depth, but the most notable element is the percussion, which provides the vibrant pulse which one could easily see a troupe of Irish step-dancers illustrating.

...Pray to prolong / Your time in the ball of the dance of your days / Your canvas of colors, of moments ablaze / With all that is holy / With the joy and the strife / With the rhythm and rhyme of the poem of your life.

The Basin and the Towel - A quiet, piano-driven number extolling humility. The song begins with a recounting of Jesus’ foot-washing exercise with his apostles. I once attended a three-week Seminary Sampler in which we literally followed this Biblical example. While such a reenactment is a spiritually satisfying experience, what Card is really encouraging in this song is a daily willingness to be a servant. He preaches the message with characteristic gentleness.

The space between ourselves sometimes / Is more than the distance between the stars / By the fragile bridge of the servant’s bow / We take up the basin and the towel.

Things We Leave Behind This guitar-heavy tune leans heavily on the Gospels for examples to underscore Card’s point. While the last song urged humility, this similarly preaches poverty, or more accurately a willingness to free oneself from one’s possessions when they stand in the way of being a fully committed Christian. Card paints this sacrifice in a positive light, insisting that the liberty we gain is far better than the things we may have to give up. Incidentally, it includes one of my favorite of the many instances of alliteration in his lyrics: Matthew was mindful of taking the tax / And pressing the people to pay.

When we say no to the things of the world / We open our hearts to the love of the Lord / And it’s hard to imagine the freedom we find / From the things we leave behind.

Earthly Perfect Harmony - This poignant composition, carried along by Card’s sensitive finger-picking on the acoustic guitar and a chorus of pleasantly understated violins, is an homage to marriage that admits rocky times are sometimes inevitable. The narratorial voice here is pained and uncertain but leaves us with the sense that the love he once felt for his wife is powerful enough to persevere for, even if he can’t feel it at the moment.

If we choose / Not to lose the light / That made us shine in each other’s eyes / If we decide that life alone’s no life at all / Then we must see / That love can be / The earthly perfect harmony / The Lord composed for children of his own to sing.

Home - Seems like most musicians have one: an ode to their home, whatever that might mean. Paul Simon had Homeward Bound, the Beatles A Hard Day’s Night, John Denver Back Home Again. Card unsurprisingly puts a theological spin on his. Perhaps influenced by C. S. Lewis, who he cites in the dedication section, he views his own home in a Platonian light, as a shadow of the more perfect abode awaiting him. One of the most homey and intimate of the tracks on this album.

Being at home should remind you that still / There’s a place that’s prepared just for you / And I think my home is just Heaven’s reflection / As long as my home’s here with you.

Lowden’s Prayer - This instrumental track is the shortest except for the reprise of the opening song. Another very Celtic flavored song, it includes the fiddle, Uillean pipes, dulcimer and again that beautifully expressive percussion that so enhanced Poem of Your Life. The introductory paragraph is particularly useful here, as it explains the piece was inspired by luthier George Lowden, who he first met in Belfast. Lowden presented him with a guitar he had made himself and prayed over during each day of its creation; I assume that is the instrument on which Card provides his accompaniment here. This segues directly into the next track, which is the aforementioned reprise, which I suppose just serves as a reminder of the main thrust of the album now that we’ve reached the halfway point.

The Edge - This is a pretty dark song, though it ends on a note of hope. His introduction is especially lyrical, explaining how God “sometimes sings to us in minor keys.” There’s almost a bit of a hard rock feel to the instrumentation, though Card’s vocals themselves are fairly quiet until they reach a plaintive cry at the chorus. Those pipes again make an impressive appearance; it’s clear Card already had a fascination with Celtic styles while he was working on this album. Card does not shy away from acknowledging that many people face the temptation to give up on life, but true to the theme of the album, he encourages them to embrace it instead, struggling through the darkness with the light of God to guide them.

I promise I will always leave / The darkness for the light / I swear by all that’s holy / I will not give up the fight / I’ll drink down death like water / Before I ever come again / To that dark place / Where I might make / The choice for life to end.

Hope - An upbeat number backed by some groovy guitar and percussion set to sound like people clapping. The chorus seems like one that would be ideal for a Sunday school sing-along. It’s an appropriate song to follow The Edge, as it emphasizes the idea of hope. It also returns quite neatly to the metaphor of the title.

Though your like may seem to sound a dark and minor key / It will someday shift itself to major / And the lyric of your life will rhyme / With nothing less than joy / And you’ll find that hope is from / The One that you believe.

Bearers of the Light - The keyboards on this song give the song a deep, resonant feel at times, while the guitar accentuates Card’s gentle assurances. The tracks on this album so naturally follow one another that I don’t think it would be much of a stretch to call it a concept album. He doesn’t clearly label it as such, but Card has done an album of that sort before, and this fits that mold quite well. This song again references Biblical figures, applying them to our times.

He will walk beside us / A strong friend, Barnabas / He will be that sure shoulder to lean on / The promise we share is our burden to bear / And our light tells the darkness to be gone.

The Greening of Belfast - Yes, the track I was waiting for. From the advent of those haunting pipes, this song draws me into its magic and never lets me go. The opening line: In a green, green land riding on the sea / Live a people who speak like a song. What a perfect description of Ireland! I dream of the rolling hills that gleam emerald; my heart soars each time I hear anyone speak with an Irish accent, and I’m riveted to their speech no matter what their words. The fiddle sows a stream of sorrow throughout the song, but the harp seems to carry Card’s prayer up to Heaven, where angels do their best to protect the residents of this “heartbreaking, heartbroken town.” The members of that angelic host must be smiling today.

Pray for the greening of Belfast / That what is now barren may bloom and be fair / God love the city of Belfast / For so many children who love Him live there.

For F. F. B. This song is very unusual in that it begins and ends with a recording of a snippet of a sermon preached by Card’s grandfather. This is a loving tribute to that man, F. F. Brown, a gentle expression of gratitude from the man who has carried on in his tradition, though in a slightly different manner. This is an incredibly personal composition, and it reminds me powerfully of Leader of the Band, my favorite song by Dan Fogelberg, whose voice is remarkably similar to Michael Card’s. Both songs are achingly tender, with soft vocals, understated instrumentals focusing mainly on the composer’s own guitar playing, and a core message that the songwriter is eternally to have become “a living legacy” to men they so adored.

From you I learned the kind of faith / That looks up to the mountains / In you I saw just what I’d like to be / Oh, Grandad, I wish you could be here / To tell me what to do / ‘Cause I first saw the light of Christ in you.

Sunrise of Your Smile - Card has written so many lullabies, he needs several albums to contain all of them. This one is dedicated to his son Will, no longer a toddler at this point but still young enough to enjoy frequent moments of innocent exuberance. Just as tender as the ode to his grandfather, this one goes to the other end of the spectrum, expressing the simple joy he feels in sharing his son’s happiness. And I can’t help but get a kick out of the fact that he references Peter Pan.

I would wander weary miles / Would welcome ridicule, my child / To simply see the sunrise of your smile / To see the light behind your eyes / The happy thought that makes you fly...

Well, there you have it, and I certainly can’t complain about listening to this album instead of the intended Starkindler. It’s a most uplifting tribute to life in general, a perfect way to celebrate a move that celebrates life most thrillingly. May the greening last forever.