Springsteen and the School of Liturgics

I have a vague memory of Pete Duffy, across the hall in the college fraternity house, cranking up his stereo for Bruce Springsteen's Born to Run, but I found the music a little too...hmmm, how shall I say this...."urban edgy" for my taste. Other than that limited early impression -- and perhaps because of it -- I can't say that Springsteen was much on my radar. Until much later. Random songs made it into my awareness. I came to more readily recognize his music -- and like it, perhaps because I, myself, was becoming a little edgier and a lot more urban.

And then a little over 3 years ago Springsteen got infatuated with the music of Pete Seeger, and not only recorded an album of it but, in place of the better-known E-Street Band, toured the country with a rather raucus folk band performing it. The concert we got to attend during that tour was one of the most exhilarating of my fairly lengthy concert experience. Fun, lively, participatory and, well, raucus, the evening became the inspiration for my 50th birthday celebration: a jam session with all kinds of instruments, playing all kinds of fun songs -- many we had heard Springsteen sing that night.

The years since have seen the release of a few subsequent albums, which were suddenly very much on my radar. I had become a fan -- long after the vast majority of others. So, when tickets went on sale for his Des Moines show, I logged onto the ticket site and snagged my pair. And last night was the night. Wow! Eleven performers, including The Boss. Rock and Roll with the whole E-Street Band. And each of the eleven was on his or her best game, for the almost 3-hour non-stop concert. Suffice it to say that, with a half-hour of encores stretching out the evening, the audience was wildly invested. There can't be any harder working musicians.

But as exciting as it was, I felt strangely alien. I knew neither the lyrics, nor the apparent standardized hand and arm gestures. I didn't know that we were supposed to bring poster boards with song ideas to "stump the band." I didn't know the back stories, the traditions, the inside jokes; the past estrangements and reconciliations among the band. I was, I suppose, vaguely aware that drummer Max Weinberg had become the leader of Conan O'brien's Tonight Show, and so I felt quite honored that he was actually able to play our concert; his TV gig has required him to miss several concerts. But the rest of the thrills and dramas and stories and "traditions" unfolded around me in a way that, alright I'll admit it, made me feel a little jealous -- and out of it. I didn't know the rubric. Everyone but me, it seemed, knew what to do. And when. On which song. On what beat. I can understand how the two guys behind us could have it down. From South Carolina, they are simply following the tour from city to city. Bleacher groupies, as it were. But everyone else? How do they know these things?

Waking up this morning after far too little sleep and a ringing still my ears, the experience got me thinking about how worship services must feel to the casual -- or even interested -- visitor who wanders in. I think about all the standing and the sitting and the repeated prayers and the page numbers and the communion trays that make their way along the pews. And how "out of it" they, too, are likely to feel. Granted, admission is free -- decidedly unlike the Springsteen concert -- but awkwardness is awkwardness, and no one wants to feel alien very long. It's one thing to say hello at the door, but after last night I resolve to start paying more attention to the subtler forms of inclusion. After all, we may want to take this show on the road. And sell tickets. Or not.

Nonetheless, leave it to The Boss to teach me a few things about church.