As the World Series gets underway, it’s as good a time as any to celebrate the idea of fervor, in a variety of forms. I propose to start with baseball, move gingerly through politics to rock & roll, and end up at religion. Are you with me?
Defined as “an intense and passionate feeling,” the word can definitely go either way—that is, there can be a kind you like and another kind you can’t stand. The fervor that Chicago fans feel right about now is, of course, not so different than the fervor that Cleveland fans feel; but if you’re in one camp, the other team’s expression of passion is likely to get under your skin. This happens a lot in sports, but mostly it’s good natured; except, of course, when disgruntled, or sometimes ecstatic, fans get really rowdy.
Can frenzy ever be fabulous? Is there a certain kind of tumult that is terrific? Yes and yes, so long as it doesn’t have to do with the current race for the White House.
Most of us have run out of words to describe how we’re feeling about the presidential campaign that keeps slogging, or careening, towards Election Day. According to an article I read last night, an unprecedented number of people are seeking out therapists this fall; we’re all rattled to some degree by the weirdness, even sordidness, of the conversation. And some of us are actually being re-injured by old wounds. It’s not a tranquil scene, both within us and among us. The colorful riot of the leaves is some recompense, but alas, that show won’t last long.
Around my neighborhood, this kind of thing doesn’t exactly set one’s soul at ease.
Morning dawns peacefully enough, it’s true, but we get the distinct impression that there are some deep cracks in the ground. If we don’t go to big rallies, we can avoid the tumult to some degree; but it’s there all right. And, much as we’re eager to get past Election Day, it seems unlikely that serenity lies on the other side.
My husband and I, however, managed to find an oasis of relief by going to the movies recently. Escape? Absolutely. We saw the new Ron Howard documentary about the Beatles, called Eight Days A Week. Actually the full title is longer than that, but no matter. The film is a retrospective of the band’s touring years, from 1962-1966, when they were on top of the world. For those of us who have always loved the music – indeed, felt that it has been to some degree the soundtrack to our lives – the movie is a complete treat from start to finish, a rollicking ride through the sustained panic that was Beatlemania.
There’s nothing remotely like a “Candidate of Chaos” to be found here, no deleted emails either— only four young lighthearted guys who, by creating an endless stream of beautiful melodies and harmonies, brought joy all over the world. So what if this gleeful romp happened 50 years ago? Let it be, and let it live on.
Since the filmmakers got nods from Paul, Ringo, and the two widows—Yoko Ono and Olivia Harrison—it’s no surprise that the overall picture is as rosy as it is. But we’re watching actual tapes here, so presumably there are no lies. These guys apparently had a whole lot of fun hacking around together — coming up with new songs any chance they got, joking with the media, generally riding the wave of their fame. And what an amazing output; they gave us one tremendous album after another.
Until, of course, it all got to be too much. Watching them in a constant crush of weeping and grabbing fans, with no chance for any private life, you have to be amazed at how they withstood the constant pressure for so long.
In the movie, a number of celebrities offer their own memories of the Beatles back then. Whoopi Goldberg recalls how her mother brought her to the famous Shea Stadium concert in 1965; what she heard in their music was a kind of blanket permission to be whoever she needed to be, to live fully for the rest of her life.
This was a kind of “Twist and Shout” fervor that lifted people up everywhere.
Religion, as I understand it, can do that too. Most mainline church services, at least the ones I’ve been to, wouldn’t normally be described as “fervent” but that doesn’t mean that there’s not an intensity of feeling going on therein. It seems to me true that, at the same time that many of us feel the need to keep a lid on our demonstration of emotions– in religious services or elsewhere — we also enjoy the experience of being around some expression of deep feeling, even if it is not our own, or we hold it in the pages of a book.
Most episodes of true frenzy, generally speaking, go too far; but a degree of tumult—well, that’s usually a good thing. It’s like a ride on a crowded subway train, when you bump up against people you would have otherwise never met; or an exciting run down a sledding hill, when you take some bumps, steer as best you can, breathe in the cold air, maybe even sing a Beatles song good and loud, and realize just how great it is to have a beating heart.