Why I want to play Bruce Springsteen at my funeral
The
kingdom of heaven is like the train in Springsteen's "Land of Hope and
Dreams," filled with saints and sinners, losers and winners.
On
an exotic vacation our son took with my brother and sister-in-law, all
travelers brought a playlist of five songs that said something about
them. Fallen not far from the tree, my son's list included two Bruce
Springsteen songs (from 15 years before his birth). My brother had
Springsteen too, including one song he said I wanted played at my
funeral: "Land of Hope and Dreams." A fan of The Outlaw Josey Wales, The Walking Dead,
and the 12 apostles, it's not surprising that I would send myself off
with a musical parable of a Noah's Ark-style motley crew on a salvific
train ride that's also a rocking evocation of the kingdom of heaven.
In
some ways, the song is perfect for a funeral: "Leave behind your
sorrows, let this day be the last." And in some cases, it's maybe a
little too apt--"You don't know where you're goin'/ But you
know you won't be back." But it also exudes hope. Briefly, the
narrator--"a good companion for this part of the ride"--invites the
listener to board his train and presents a poignant litany of the riders
"this train carries": "saints and sinners . . . losers and winners . . .
lost souls . . . broken hearted . . . thieves and sweet souls
departed." On "this train," he assures, "dreams will not be thwarted . .
. faith will be rewarded." "Tomorrow there'll be sunshine and all this
darkness past" and in the end, all will "meet me in a land of hope and
dreams." While it's been called "secular" gospel, the song recalls that
first Christian companion, bringing good news to the poor and freeing
the oppressed.
I also hear echoes of Jesus' kingdom
similes: the kingdom of heaven is like a train filled with saints and
sinners, losers and winners--the people Jesus traveled among and those
whom time and circumstances, nature and nurture, mistakes and
mistreatment have pushed into disappointing situations. The poor in
spirit, in other words ("theirs is the kingdom of heaven"--another part I
want in my funeral).
Like on the train, some of these
parables contain diverse crowds. In Matthew, Jesus says, "The kingdom of
heaven is like a landowner" who hired laborers for his vineyard
throughout the day and paid all equally, no matter how long they'd
worked. Later, "the kingdom of heaven may be likened to a king who gave a
wedding feast for his son." When the invited didn't come, the king sent
his servants to "invite whomever you find." They "went out into the
streets and gathered all they found, bad and good alike"--saints and
sinners, losers and winners. The king did expel someone improperly
dressed, and Jesus concludes, "Many are invited, but few are
chosen"--you need to want to be there. When they board, it
seems this train's passengers must be changed, repentant--"you know you
won't be back." Why else would they be on this train? And, no matter
when they board, the conductor, not unlike the landowner, takes them all
to the land of hope and dreams.
Some may question whether
any of these parallels occurred to the Rock and Roll Hall of Famer.
Maybe. In his recent autobiography, he says that as he got older, "there
were certain things about the way I thought, reacted, behaved. I came
to ruefully and bemusedly understand that once you're a Catholic, you're
always a Catholic." Then he described a kind of spiritual mission:
"This was the world where I found the beginning of my song. In
Catholicism, there existed the poetry, danger and darkness that
reflected my imagination and my inner self. . . . I tried to meet its
challenge for the very reasons that there are souls to lose and a
kingdom of love to be gained."
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