I’m just back from Nashville — Country Music Capital of the World and also site of the Episcopal Church House of Bishops fall conference. Now there’s an interesting adjacency for you, or at least it just was for me, as I tried to juggle my role as spouse to a bishop at the Airport Marriott, some distance away from the heart of town, with the strong pull I felt towards most everything
related to the twang of guitars – both past and present. The two things didn’t exactly cancel each other out, but the going back and forth was a little tricky.
It gets more interesting when you consider that the theme of the conference was “Transforming Loss into New Possibilities.” I’m guessing that this title refers to what’s happening with main-line churches across the country – how they have to adjust to new set of realities in the culture. You’d be hard pressed to identify a country singer who hasn’t also broached this same subject, just coming at it from the vantage point of an individual who’s been through the wringer.
On top of this, wouldn’t you know that Taylor Swift was performing in Nashville during the exact same weekend that we were there? Not that I would have necessarily tried for tickets (my country music fan son not being with us) but then again, I might have. Bishops are identified by the color purple; her hit song “Red” could have provided a nice color contrast, not to mention an infusion of other discussion topics — say, how it feels when fiery love crashes and burns.
In truth, since the bishops were amongst themselves for this conference, they didn’t need to wear their usual shirts most of the time. Since we had some time to talk in between meetings, however, my husband let me in on the origin of the word “amethyst”: it comes from the Greek word “amethystos” and can be loosely translated as “not intoxicated.” Which is, presumably, a good thing in a bishop. This sentiment is reinforced in the section of the Bible that presents qualifications for becoming a leader in the church: “Now the overseer is to be above reproach, faithful to his wife, temperate, self-controlled, respectable, hospitable, not given to drunkenness…” (1 Timothy 3)
All of this might explain why it was that the bishops did not exactly make a beeline for Broadway – that most famous street — in Nashville. Firmly adhering to the philosophy “When in Rome…” and thrilled with the experience I’d had a year before hearing bluegrass at the Ryman Auditorium however, I did succeed in convincing my husband to experience the wonders of that particular part of town where live music pours out of almost every establishment and, yes, beer flows freely. He was wary at first, but gallantly agreed to go with me on the very first night we arrived, sensing that it was only fair. After all, I’d come all this way to join him on his turf, so to speak.
There were bands performing through every doorway and hordes of people on the street on the mid-week night. It took us a little while to settle on a crowded place where we scored a table; there was promise of a good fiddle player about to get on stage with an old-time Hank Williams type country band. No glitz, just music.
Right after we sat down a guy coming in almost didn’t get past the bouncer; he’d already had a few, apparently and still worked his way to the table right next to us. He was annoying, but the instruments on stage, the lead singer taking charge, were what mattered. And watching the few couples who got up on the floor spontaneously and started holding each other, swaying and smiling, letting whatever cares they had drift away, was lovely. We got up and joined them for a bit, trying to remember when was the last time we’d had a chance to dance.
It was country music right in front of us, and it was definitely good.
Earlier that day, we’d gone back in time with a visit to the new Johnny Cash Museum. Now there was a guy who, by his very life story, crossed so many boundaries: from a hardscrabble background he climbed to great heights as a musician; sank low in addiction; lost a wife; came back in rehab; wrote a book called Man In Black about all that; wrote another book called Man In White about the apostle Paul; got hugely rich; spent his own money with his second wife June Carter making a movie about the Holy Land; had a successful TV show; always had a special kinship with prisoners, championed the American flag. A devout Christian who also knew what it was like to be down and out, he wrote a song about the loneliness we can sometimes feel on Sunday morning. Here it is:
Being a non-bishop, I didn’t need to stay for the whole conference, and I was ready to pull away from the self-contained world of the Airport Marriott when the time came. Along with getting to know some other spouses better, heading downtown with my man, in regular clothes, to take in some culture together, was the best part. “New Possibilities” – here we come.