An Evening Six Months in the Making -- and Worth the Wait

We had been looking forward to the concert since the winter evening in Vermont when, while sitting by the fireplace awaiting the New Year, we emailed our interest in booking a date. Six months later, this past Sunday night, that date finally arrived.

We had heard singer/songwriter Peter Mayer earlier in December at a church in Ames and thought he would be perfect for our setting. As I introduced him to the gathered crowd, I observed that Peter is "a person who looks at the world and sees something as small as a hat and as large as the universe through which the earth sails like a 'blue boat home'; as concrete as a piece of rhubarb and apple pie lovingly baked for a church bazaar and eagerly bought and consumed, and as abstract as a river that is the God who sweeps through all there is, into which swimmers are invited to wade and 'let go'; as old as the buffalo running and as new as "string theory." He is a person who refuses to take life too seriously, and yet -- or perhaps because -- he sees view everything as holy."

And that's the way the evening felt: holy, without being heavy. As one friend described the experience at intermission, "one minute I'm crying; the next I'm laughing; the next I'm just shaking my head." Peter and his music are as expansive as they are hospitable. We left, for example, not having any clear idea how he felt about the war or which political candidate has his vote, but clear about the capacity of his heart and soul. He gave the audience room to be what they are, at the same time inviting us to imagine more -- offering, among other things, the intriguing image of a birthday party attended by Jesus, Buddha, Mohammed, Abraham and more -- "And they all toasted Jesus, born in a stable. Then Jesus said “hey, let’s not be such strangers.” It was a delight to be enlarged without being being yanked. We dreamed together of spending a day in our pajamas -- Scooby Doo bottoms and Sponge Bob top -- and we stood musically in awe of "a little red-winged bird, shining like a burning bush, singing like a scripture verse."

And then, having indeed laughed and cried and wondered and dreamed, we went home -- smiling, humming, and (though I can only speak for myself) still dreaming and deeply hoping...
...that the human community can be a more hospital lot;
...that earth can be walked "with a more reverent air";
...that instead of clinging so desperately to the rocks, I might let go and swim in the current of God;
...and that more people will start wearing hats.