Monday Morning Music Ministry

10-31-22

I was planning to write a message about Reformation Day, but this has been a week with many distracting events, some sad; and thoughts about reforming the church, confronting corruption, does not need an anniversary-day to assert its relevance. Next week.

Among the sad events of this week was the death of Jerry Lee Lewis.

Somewhat anticipated, even the subject of false rumors, Jerry had a stroke a couple of years ago and, with the lifestyle he led – often on death’s door; in some ways tempting death many times through the years – he was, in the words of one of his recent nicknames, the Last Man Standing.

That reference is to the class of talented Southern boys who burst on the American musical scene in the mid-1950s. They were all unique, with utterly distinct styles, yet their common roots and similar stories was a most astonishing coincidence. Jerry Lee Lewis, Elvis Presley, Johnny Cash, Carl Perkins, Charlie Rich, Roy Orbison… and others: all born in the mid-1930s; all dirt-poor Southerners; all of Pentecostal or Fundamentalist faiths; all attracted to, and amalgamating in their music, the traditions of country music, Gospel, white and black blues; all separately showing up on the doorstep of a small recording studio in Memphis, hoping to find an audience. Remarkable.

When I was a kid and rock ‘n’ roll was young too, it was Jerry Lee Lewis who caught my ear, so to speak, and I never looked back. Through the years I interviewed him maybe a dozen times; traveled over half the continent to attend concerts and see him backstage; and eventually met, and became friends with, some of his relatives – cousin Mickey Gilley; sister Linda Gail Lewis; other cousins like Rev David Beatty; band members like Ken Lovelace; associates like Jack Clement.

In his hometown of Ferriday, Louisiana, I worshiped in the Assembly of God Church where the cousins grew up; and spent time with Jerry and Linda’s colorful other sister Frankie Jean. I became a follower of Jimmy Swaggart, I suppose first hooked by the “bait” of the music, and have worshiped and interviewed in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, too. Closing the circle, I interviewed Mickey and other Gilleys, too.

I am in the process of putting all those meetings and interviews to work, and to share with the world a book that will profile them, principally Jimmy Lee and Jerry Lee – why I am putting aside thoughts on Martin Luther’s Reformation five-hundred years ago.

In a sense, however, there is a connection. The rediscovery of Bible-based belief and worship that Luther promoted has its current manifestation in Fundamentalist and Pentecostal churches. Of course many people will think this is unlikely – an affinity between nascent Protestantism of the 1500s, and the subsequent majesty of the Baroque master Bach; and the perfervid preaching in white-frame rural churches and the back-beat, three-chord exuberant music of Southern Gospel. But, Amen – so be it. The scarlet thread of redemption is actually a ribbon of many threads.

My book has found a theme beyond the blood relations (a gene pool the size of a teardrop) and family tree (more like a tangled vine!), and it can be found in the title: “Cousins – The Saturday Nights and Sunday Mornings of a Remarkable American Family.” For, besides the abnormal, almost miraculous, musical talent and astonishing piano stylings that the Cousins possess, there is the common element of Pentecostalism.

Music and Christian salvation rescued and redeemed the branches of that family and many similar families in that region and that time. Of course the Pentecostal experience is as old as the Days of the Apostles, but has only reasserted itself in the past century. Now it is a worldwide phenomenon – to choose one proof, the number of Pentecostals in Brazil today is more than the Catholic population.

In Jerry Lee’s case, the preaching and music were part of his life. He attended Bible College in Texas until he was invited to leave because he would not (or could not, he told me) stop “juking” traditional Gospel songs like “My God Is Real.” Pastor Charles Wigley was a fellow student, playing sax in a little pickup band, and he told me that Jerry occasionally snuck out at night to listen to music at clubs in Dallas’s Deep Elem neighborhoods.

Jerry Lee’s virtually instant stardom when Sun Records heard his demos propelled him to what the public has known since then – TV appearances; multiple wives including one to his 13-year-old cousin; ups and downs; scandals; problems with drink, drugs, and taxes; movies and worldwide tours; and so forth. His cousins had somewhat similar experiences.

Yet all of the family, from the most casual church-goer to the world-famous evangelist Jimmy Swaggart, never rejected the “Sunday morning” component, no matter how many “Saturday nights” there were. You will understand the symbology.

The world might scorn (sometimes correctly) the repeated confessions of some folks; repentance, pleas for forgiveness, embracing the cross. Again and maybe again. But, we are all sinners. Some of us sin more loudly, or more colorfully, even more persistently, than others. But woe be to those who judge.

Many who sin never do desire to repent. Or never – God help them – feel the need for forgiveness; never really are conscious of their sin. Never knew, in the first place, a God who sees them and loves them and judges but has already provided a means of redemption in the cross – the shed blood of His Son.

Putting aside the massive talent and compelling music of Jerry Lee Lewis, his life on earth, now ended, can be seen as one hewing to the Gospel nevertheless, wracked with sin-consciousness when he strayed, having hundreds of conversations about his guilt; reforming, pledging, backsliding, interrupting some concerts to switch to Gospel music – working out his inner conflicts in public.

When he was training to be a preacher, he told me, a favorite theme was “the devil’s tail sticking out of houses” – when people had television antennas on their roofs. Ironic that his cousin Jimmy Lee Swaggart based a major portion of his ministry on televangelism. Ironic, too – or appropriate – that at the end of his life Jerry (once again… but clearly sincere) gave his heart to Jesus. Cousin Mickey Gilley did so, too, before his recent death. “Made things right with the Lord,” they each said.

Jerry Lee Lewis’s last recording project was a duet album with Jimmy Swaggart – long discussed over the years, but never produced. Traditional hymns and Gospel songs, it was released only months ago.

The world already is realizing that Jerry Lee was far greater than memorable hits and scandals and tabloid rumors. Even last month, before his death but after decades of snubs, the Country Music Hall of Fame finally elected him to its list of honorees.

Now he will be transformed from a popular personality to the true, exceptional icon he always was despite himself. His real story, as with many great figures in history, has come a full circle.

I pray that we can all have personal counterparts in our “walks,” and I don’t mean music or a particular lifestyle. Jerry Lee Lewis was taught the Truth of the Bible by his mother Mamie and Aunt Rene and in the First Assembly of God Church. He “hid the Word in his heart.” When he strayed he listened to the Holy Spirit, was troubled, and sought forgiveness. He shared his struggle with the world. In the end, it was not his new plaque in the Hall of Fame, but the old pew where he once sat, learning about Jesus and singing the songs of amazing grace, that was his real home. And where he was fulfilled.

“His” versions of those Gospel songs have prevailed after all. Whether there is a little more shaking going on in Heaven, we’ll understand it all by and by…

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Click Video Clip: In the Garden

Click Video Clip: Jesus, Hold My Hand

7-25-22

It is almost impossible lately, during at least one week in July or August, not be aware of costumed heroes, red-carpet interviews, breathless announcements of new video games, and outrageous prices being paid for ancient, fragile comic books. It is the week of “ComiCon,” the San Diego International Comic Convention.

Even if you are not (in order) a fan of superheroes, celebrities, new movies and games, or collectible comic books… it is difficult to avoid cable-TV coverage, entertainment-show stories, news packages, and internet views of scholars and nerds, 135,000 of them, crowding the aisles of the Convention Center in otherwise placid San Diego.

It holds my interest for several reasons. I was in that world – and of that world – for much of my life. Actually more than one career, for I have been a political cartoonist, scenarist of strips and graphic novels, syndicate comics editor, editor of Marvel Comics magazines, writer for Disney, comics anthologist and historian, etc.

More, I have attended many of the comics festivals around the world, usually as a speaker or guest. Many are larger, and at one time more scholarly, than San Diego. But my first ComiCon was in 1976, and in those days they were small affairs, held in old halls or hotel basements. In fact ComiCon basically was a collectors’ swap meet with celebrity panels. As Editor at Marvel, I arranged for us to be the first major publisher to rent space and display new releases there. (I humbly confess that a strong motivation was to have Stan Lee sign off on 10 fun days with my staff in sunny California…)

Before the Con was largely subsumed by films and games I was kind of tight with board members of SDCC, so I was in its orbit. But these days it takes the James Webb Telescope of the Comics Universe to spot me. My interest in the art form has not waned at all – I am deep in a couple projects about comics history – but, as I said, SDCC is more about movies, games, and toys than strips.

But superheroes still stalk the halls, the representatives of comic books and their Hollywood spin-offs.

I have never fully understood America’s fascination with superheroes – before, during, and after my tenure at Marvel. We are too deep in the forest to see the trees; if the world survives, it will take analysts of the future to explain America’s obsession with violence and sex; protagonists who rely on muscles, weapons, and absurd powers to pursue justice. Other civilizations built the heroes of their myths (commonly agreed standards and values) on integrity, courage, and wisdom. Many of their heroes failed, the source of literal “tragedy,” a term that is, significantly, misused these days. But in contemporary America, every “hero,” every sketch drawn for fans at ComiCon, employs grimaces, knotted brows, bleeding scratches, clenched teeth, and, usually, a ravished buxom woman at his feet.

Why has America developed this conception of a hero, and why has an audience demanded or welcomed such characters, for surely they are synergistic factors.

Having worked in the “forest,” as I said, all my career, I can discern the trees but cannot identify them, nor explain their sustenance. Even my cherished Disney characters, whom I cast in countless scripts as I wrote premises and stories, have been transformed. I no longer recognize the denizens of the Magic Kingdom; No: I do recognize them, and I don’t like them. They don’t like me. Walt must be turning his grave like a rotisserie chicken. (I recently wrote about this for a national magazine.)

There are signs of hope, reasons for optimism, evidence of some redemption. Not only for desperately needed diversity of content, but as push-backs against the troubling vortex of thematic rot. Villains, and even heroes, I knew as a kid and during my time at Marvel, have now engaged in serial excess – demonology, satanism, perversion (“oh, we must give the good guys something to oppose”), rougher violence, and bloodier graphic representations of it all.

But subcultures of Christian cartoonists are creating stories and inventing heroes with positive virtues; self-publishing, when necessary, and with… happy endings. Or, for discerning readers, pointing to the Truth. Among these creators are very talented artists and writers. Many of them are at the ComiCon, and many are exhibiting, offering their work to the public, and… well, evangelizing. Missionaries in a hostile world – America, not only fan conventions.

When I was young I knew Al Hartley, who was permitted to draw a line of Archie comics for the Christian market; Hank Ketcham did the same with a line of Dennis the Menace comic books. Today’s new breed has taken the fight as St Paul did: “all things to all people” — there are series of heroes; fantasy themes; humor; adventure. The creators do not hide their faith, hoping to lure unsuspecting pagans… but rather, they share their witness boldly and cleverly.

Once there was Jack Chick, who published controversial comics as tracts. There was political cartoonist Wayne Stayskal, who also drew for religious publications. There is the Australian pastor Ian Jones, for whose anthology of Christian strips Pearly Gates I wrote an Introduction. I had many conversations with Charles Schulz who, early in his career, evangelized on street corners; he grew weary and wary of organized religions but always discussed Christian faith.

Of the “rising generation” there are many. And many of them are at ComiCon, individually and as members of the Christian Comics Society. This activity might surprise some Christians; but if the work was more widely read and discussed, the whole world might – and should – know of it. In the next blog message I will highlight some of the cartoonists and their work.

In the meantime, I will note that it is inspiring that some cartoonists are working not to impress each other or attract fans by whatever means they can use… but are conscious of the One Reader they seek to please.

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Video Click: It Is No Secret