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Last night folk music lost one of our dearest friends. On October 24, Faith Petric died at the age of 98. She had been performing up through the last few years. (You can see videos of her performing Geritol Gypsy and You Ain’t Been Doing Nothing If You Ain’t Been Called a Red.) Faith was a mainstay of the San Francisco folk community and a mentor to hundreds, if not thousands, of musicians.  Here’s a link to a lovely remembrance by Stephen Taylor.

At 98, it would be hard to call Faith’s death unexpected, but it’s a huge loss. I met Faith when I was fifteen, producing a benefit concert for the homeless at my high school in conjunction with the People’s Music Network conference that year in Washington DC. Being fifteen, and from the east, I’d never heard of her, but she was invited onstage by the other musicians. She had the most inviting personality of any performer I’d ever seen. Without any artifice, she led us all in Jerry and Bev Praver’s song, “This Old Man Should Go Back Home.” It became a staple of my repertoire for the rest of the Reagan administration.

Years later, Faith donated her beautiful recording of If I Could Be the Rain for a CD I produced, Singing Through the Hard Times – a Tribute to Utah Phillips. She was as gracious and warm as ever.

I was in touch with Faith only a few times since then, but I’ve always felt a warmth, admiration, and kinship with her. The world is a little sadder tonight for her loss.

Goodbye, Faith. It was a pleasure to know you.

Note:  This post was updated with a couple of corrected details on October 31.

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On Monday I posted an open letter to Michelle Shocked in the wake of controversy about remarks she made at a San Francisco concert.  That letter has been viewed about 1300 times so far, easily a record for this blog.  On Wednesday evening Michelle Shocked released a statement denying any intention to spout homophobia, saying that her remarks were misunderstood, that she was describing the opinions of other people, and that her statement about tweeting “Michelle Shocked hates…” was a prediction of how she would be misinterpreted.  She says that she supports the LGBT community and marriage equality.  Included in her statement:

“I am damn sorry. If I could repeat the evening, I would make a clearer distinction between a set of beliefs I abhor, and my human sympathy for the folks who hold them. I say this not because I want to look better. I have no wish to hide my faults, and  – clearly – I couldn’t if I tried.”

I am glad to take her word for what she meant to say.

The same evening, audio from the concert has been released.  (The relevant part begins at 4:40.)  To be honest, it’s really hard to say what she was trying to get at.  Members of the audience seem confused as well.  In my letter I tried to be very careful to speak from a place of concern, rather than judgment.  Hearing the audio, I remain concerned.

Here is the full text of her statement.

And here is my original post of the open letter responding to the initial news reports on Sunday, with the update added at the top.

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Update – 11:46pm, March 20:

This evening Michelle Shocked released a statement denying any intention to spout homophobia, saying that her remarks were misunderstood, that she was describing the opinions of other people, and that her statement about tweeting “Michelle Shocked hates…” was a prediction of how she would be misinterpreted.  She says that she supports the LGBT community and marriage equality.  Included in her statement: 

“I am damn sorry. If I could repeat the evening, I would make a clearer distinction between a set of beliefs I abhor, and my human sympathy for the folks who hold them. I say this not because I want to look better. I have no wish to hide my faults, and  – clearly – I couldn’t if I tried.”

I am glad to take her word for what she meant to say.

The same evening, audio from the concert has been released.  (The relevant part begins at 4:40.)  To be honest, it’s really hard to say what she was trying to get at.  Members of the audience seem confused as well.  In my letter I tried to be very careful to speak from a place of concern, rather than judgment.  Hearing the audio, I remain concerned.

Here is the full text of her statement.

And here is my original post of the open letter responding to the initial news reports on Sunday:

Dear Michelle,

We haven’t met.  Or rather, we have, twenty years ago, but it was rather fleetingly backstage at the Philadelphia Folk Festival and you wouldn’t remember.  That was the year that you sang “Kumbaya” and reminded the audience that “Kumbaya my Lord” meant “Come by Here, my Lord.”  You were right, by the way – that song was always meant to be an invocation to the Divine.  I interpret that word differently than you do, but you were definitely right about the origin of the song.  Maybe I’ll write about that some other time.

You’ve made some news recently, and for no good reason.  Your comments at a recent concert that you fear the world would be destroyed if gays were allowed to marry, and that your fans could all go tweet “Michelle Shocked says God hates f–s”) – well, they lived up to your chosen name.  It’s not even so much the views you decided to express, as the venue, and the manner of your doing it that has left so many of us outraged, speechless, and also worried for you.

I mean it.  Because a rant like that, in the place you chose, speaks of profound spiritual pain.  It is one thing to believe that homosexuality is wrong; many do.  I disagree, but it remains a widely held belief, especially among adherents to more conservative religious movements.  These are your views, and you have every right to express them.  But to phrase them as hate speech – and it was you who brought up the word “hate” – at a concert in San Francisco, of all places, speaks of deep inner turmoil.

Your words are not those of a woman comfortable in her own skin.  They do not speak of the strength of your faith, or of your idealism, or of your values.  They seem spoken more to reassure yourself and the world that you are not, in fact, the bisexual woman you once believed yourself to be, or the lesbian so many of your fans believe you to be.  They seem an attempt to claim an identity and hold on to it, when so much both within and around you threatens to pull it apart.

I don’t know if this is really what is going on.  Maybe you just don’t like people making assumptions about you as a person or an artist.  I get that – I’m a Unitarian Universalist minister as well as a folk musician, and I’m always afraid that people will stay away from my concerts because they think I’m going to preach at them (more than folksingers usually do) or that I won’t be able to get away with singing one of the saltier old ballads, because some folks can’t separate the music from the musician.  I’d like to just be me, and sing the music I love.

You’ve got it far worse; I understand this.  And you don’t want anybody else – not a record company, not a manager, not your fans – to tell you who to be.  And maybe you’ve got some things you believe in that you want to say.  That’s fine.  But before you say them, please let me suggest that you spend some time in prayer.

Yes, I said prayer.  One of the most powerful teachings of your church is that ordinary human beings can commune with the divine – and you need that.  You need to step away from the whirlwind of public and private identities, of fear and anger and self-doubt.  You need to let go of all of that for a while.  If you’re going to speak the truth of your soul, you need to be grounded.  So pray, and read the Bible that you place your faith in.  You won’t find hatred there, but you will find a Jesus who spent a great deal of time with people who were and are considered “sinners,” and who nevertheless respected them as human beings and as his friends.  Pray – not for absolute answers, but to still yourself and open yourself to the God of your belief.

You hurt a great many people with your comments, not least yourself.  But maybe this experience can move you forward.  Maybe it will help you find the right people to talk to about your spiritual crises.  Maybe it will help you ask for help in your emotional life.   You said yourself that “truth is leading to painful confrontation.”  Maybe the truth is your own spiritual crisis, and the confrontation is with yourself.

I don’t know, but I do know this much.  The only way to respond to hatred is with love and compassion.  And Michelle, though I don’t know you, and I detest everything you said at that concert – you have my love and compassion.  I offer you that much.

After all, isn’t that what Jesus would have done?

Love,
Dan

PS:  I still love Short Sharp Shocked, and always will, no matter what you say about anybody.  That album is brilliant from beginning to end.  Would that any of us could reach such heights of artistic genius.

Note:  Please remember the guidelines for comments in this blog.  As my friend at Sermons in Stones puts it, “Disagreement is welcome; disagreeableness is not.”  Comments that are not civil, or that express hatred for any person or group of people – including religious groups as well as the LGBT community – will be blocked.

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Three years ago a powerful earthquake in Haiti devastated an already suffering nation.  The world sent aid, but not nearly enough, and Haiti has largely receded from the consciousness of the world.

Shortly after the earthquake, I helped to plan and lead an interfaith service at the BuxMont Unitarian Universalist Fellowship, in Warrington, Pennsylvania, where I serve as minister.  Hindus, Christians, Jews, Unitarian Universalists and others gathered, raised awareness, prayed together, and most importantly raised funds to help Doctors Without Borders in their Haitian relief work.

We also sang together.  Haiti Cherie is one Haiti’s best known and best loved songs, and tells a different side of the story from the one we usually hear – this is not the Haiti of grinding poverty, oppression and violence, but of beauty, courage and community.  This is the Haiti of an African people who overthrew their European slaveholders a full sixty years before the American Civil War.  This is the Haiti of joyfulness and music.

It’s an easy trap to fall into – we imagine that the lives of people living in a place like Haiti are entirely defined by suffering – and somehow that lessens the impact of the current calamity.  But real people’s lives are seldom like that, and it’s important to remember that we, who would give our help, do so because we are privileged and we are able, but not because we are better or because our lives and nations are somehow set above others.  The Haitian people recognizes the ills their country has faced, and the far worse problems brought by the earthquake, but they are also proud of their country, and with good reason.  We would do well to learn from them.

I learned Haiti Cherie for the service, doing the best I could with the Creole, using an English translation from a  recording by Harry Belafonte, and adding a fourth verse (“you are never lost to sorrow”) written in the wake of the earthquake’s destruction.  When we came back to the first verse, I lined it out for the people gathered, and four congregations sang it well and loudly.

This recording was done rather hastily that week – I had a bit of a cold, so I won’t pretend it’s the best recording I ever made, but it may be one of the most heartfelt.  The link should take you to the song.  Enjoy it, and if you can spare a little, donate again to earthquake relief.

Dan Schatz sings Haiti Cherie

(NOTE:  Pleased ignore any video ads below – they have nothing to do with the post or this blog.  The link above will take you to the song.)

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Today is the second anniversary of the mass shooting in Tucson, Arizona, in which six people lost their lives and Congresswoman Gabrielle Giffords was shot in the head.  In the intervening years we have seen similar shootings at an Oakland, California college, a Sikh temple in Wisconsin, a movie theater in Aurora, Colorado, and, most horrifically, a Newtown, Connecticut elementary school.  Sadly, the actual list is far too long for me to recount – the Brady Campaign to Prevent Gun Violence lists over 70 mass shootings since Tucson, and that only tells a small part of the story.  Every day in the United States, gunfire kills 87 people – 8 of them children, 5 of those murder.  That’s over 100 Newtowns every year, and most of us don’t even notice it.

After the Newtown shooting last month several gun control opponents cited a mass stabbing in  China, correctly pointing out that no amount of gun control could not prevent violence or keep someone whose heart is bent on mayhem from committing it.  In doing so, they made the case for gun control far more effectively than I could have, because of the 22 children stabbed in that assault, not one died.

Guns do not cause violence, it is true – but they make it far more deadly and dangerous.  Suicides attempted with guns do not allow for second thoughts.  Violence committed with guns – especially with automatic and semi-automatic weapons – kills.  Too often it kills the innocent.  I understand the desire for freedom, for protection, for recreation.  I understand that the overwhelming majority of gun owners are decent, law abiding people.  But 2000 dead children every year is too high a price to pay.

It is also true that gun bans will not by themselves immediately fix the problem.  Our laws have been so lax, for so long, that the guns are readily available for those who would obtain them illegally.  Buy back programs help, but it will take a long time to solve the problem we have created for ourselves.  In the meantime, licensing can help, waiting periods and background checks can help, keeping the most dangerous guns limited to sporting facilities can help, and education can help.

Tom Paxton often writes what he calls “short shelf life songs” – songs in response to world events that he doesn’t expect to be relevant once the news cycle has shifted.  Two years ago he wrote “What If, No Matter” in response to the shooting in Tucson.  Sadly, the song remains all too relevant.

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Midwinter Music

We tend to get our Christmas tree early in our our household – this year we set it up on the first day of December.  We do this partly because we love the decoration, and want to make it last as long as possible, but also because of the nature of my work – I need to get myself in the spirit of the season as early as possible.  With our son, we talk about the solstice, the many different holidays celebrated this time of year, and those wonderful words from Sophia Lyon Fahs – that “every night a child is born is a holy night.”

We also listen to Christmas and solstice music – lots of it.  Or at least I do – I spend a lot of time driving alone, so my family gets to avoid being inflicted with wall to wall seasonal joy.

Now, my idea of Christmas music may be a little different from some – I grew up with the music of Nowell Sing We Clear – traditional English midwinter songs and carols, often with deep roots in the old pagan solstice traditions, Mummers plays, and sword dances to fiddle and concertina.  It has given me an intense and lifelong interest in the traditions and folklore of the Midwinter holidays, as well as the wonderful new songs still being written.

There is some fantastic music out there – some old, some new, some celebrating Christmas and some celebrating the season itself.  Here is some of the best.

Nowell Sing We Clear

Nowell Sing We Clear | The Best of Nowell Sing We Clear, 1975-1986

This is where it all began for me.  Nowell Sing We Clear is John Roberts, Tony Barrand, Fred Breuning, and Andy Davis (Steve Woodruff in the earlier years) are now in their 38th year of touring together, and they continue to make fantastic albums of Midwinter songs and carols.  Nothing can beat fun of seeing them live (if you have the chance, GO), but the CDs are a great second best.  There are many, but perhaps the best value is the compilation of songs from the first three albums, The Best of Nowell Sing We Clear, 1975-1986.

Magpie – Last Month of the Year

Last Month of the Year - A Celebration of the Solstice

Many years ago, my good friends Terry Leonino and Greg Artzner of Magpie sent me a home recorded tape they had made as a holiday gift for their friends.  Most of the songs were traditional, but a there were a few new gems as well, including their own powerful “No Room at the Inn” and a Chanukah ballad written by none other than Woody Guthrie, which tells the original story with a level of detail most of us have never heard.  Eventually they re-recorded the album and released it as one of the best seasonal albums I’ve ever heard.

Folk Legacy Records – ‘Twas On a Night Like This

Having grown up with the music of Folk Legacy Records, I admit to some bias in this, but I think Folk Legacy’s Christmas collection is my favroite.  It is simply a gathering of friends making wonderful music, and the warmth shines through on every track.  I’m not sure whether “Kentucky Wassail” or “The Chocolate Burro” is my favorite, or whether it’s something else entirely.  There are so many good songs on this album that you could listen to it again and again without getting bored.

Jean Ritchie – A Kentucky Christmas

Speaking of Kentucky – some of the best American Christmas songs have come to us through the great Kentucky singer, Jean Ritchie.  Jean says that “Brightest and Best” – a traditional carol sung in her family – is her personal favorite song, and she knows thousands.  My favorite is one of Jean’s own, which goes by teh refreshing title of “Wintergrace.”

John McCutcheon – Winter Solstice

Master singer, songwriter, multi-instrumentalist and hammered dulcimer player John McCutcheon has any wonderful albums to his credit, but this time of year I tend to gravitate to Winter Solstice, a quiet and restful alternative to the generally ebullient music of the season.  The most famous song on the album comes from a true story which John wove into a song – the now classic “Christmas In the Trenches.”

Jennifer Cutting’s Ocean Orchestra – Song of Solstice

Jennifer Cutting's Ocean Orchestra | Song of Solstice

The most recent addition to my family’s Christmas collection keeps its roots in tradition, but extends its wings far beyond.  Jennifer Cutting is a folklorist, songwriter, accordion and keyboard player, singer, and talented arranger.  Her Song of Solstice – which celebrates the season with a more pagan orientation – combines Celtic and English folk music with trad-rock and steampunk.  Some of my favorite songs on this collection are Jennifer’s own – especially “Light the Winter’s Dark,” which celebrates the light brought into the world by the leaders of many of the major world religions, and the light we bring to each other’s lives.   This album is alternately meditative and electrifying.

This just a small list of my favorites – but the best kind of Midwinter music is the kind you make for yourself, in families, in groups of friends, and at gatherings.  Enjoy the music of the season!

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After a storm, there are reasons to grieve and reasons to be thankful.

Last month Hurricane Sandy left entire communities devastated, destroyed homes and shorelines, sparked fires in some homes and left many more in the cold for weeks into November.  A great many – some of whom were on the edge to begin with – are still suffering.

There are far too many reasons to grieve.

Yet it is often at times like these that neighbors discover one another and people help each other with the basic needs of life.  The divisions of ideology, which seemed so important only days before, mean little when placed against the basic needs of survival.  People help one another.  Sometimes we do it through religious communities, sometimes through charities and sometimes through government assistance – but very often it’s far simpler than that.  People see other people struggling, and offer what help they can.  Communities come together.

Thanksgiving always brings these kinds of thoughts to my mind, because essentially it is  a day about community – families sharing a meal together, volunteers at food banks and soup kitchens making sure that the poorest among us can enjoy a good meal, friends invited to each others’ Thanksgiving tables.  There are no gifts and few decorations – just a quiet meal shared with others.

That’s what I’m thankful for this Thanksgiving Day – people who help one another when there is need, and who reach out to neighbors in community.  What a better world it would be if we all remembered to be thankful, first and foremost, for each other.

Big Bill Broonzy said that Joe Turner Blues was the oldest blues song he knew, but the story remains as current today as it ever was.  It tells of a man whose giving saved many a poor family after the floods came – and of a community who turned toward each other in thanksgiving.

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It’s Veterans Day.

This afternoon I had conversations with veterans from three generations of war.  A World War II veteran talked with me about the pain so many veterans experienced after Vietnam, when they came home to be treated like criminals – as if the soldiers who fought the war were the ones who caused it.  “I notice that there’s been a change since Vietnam,” he said.  “People seem to treat veterans better today.”  I said I hoped that pacifists like myself had learned to honor the soldiers, even as we worked against the war.  As another veteran put it to me today, it is important “to honor the difference between the war and the warrior.” Most soldiers, sailors, airmen and airwomen pray for nothing more than peace.

Still, too often in the United States we still fail our veterans – not out of cruelty, but out of neglect.  We ignore the real health problems that are the aftereffects of war.  We fail to provide adequate mental health care, and employment support.  We ignore their families too often.  Somehow we can’t seem to bring ourselves to sacrifice for the people who have sacrificed for us.

I don’t think it’s that people don’t care – but somehow we have been sold on the idea that wars are things that take place in distant lands, conducted by remote control.  We tend to forget they are fought by people who must suffer the effects of what they have seen and been asked to do.

Peter LaFarge wrote “The Ballad of Ira Hayes” about a World War II hero, a native American who died drunk and all but forgotten, during the Vietnam era – and nobody performed it better than Townes Van Zandt.

During the 1980s, I got to see Arlo Guthrie perform this song, not long after it had been written.  I think it’s time to bring it back.

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Passing the Music

Last weekend, at the tender age of five, my son was one of the featured performers at a folk festival workshop.  The workshop was “Families That Sing Together,” and when we asked him if he wanted to sing anything with us, he answered without hesitation, “I’ll sing ‘Freight Train.'”  So for a group of about fifty dyed in the wool folkies, with me playing guitar, my son sang the sweetest version of “Freight Train” you ever heard.  He had learned the song from an old Libba Cotten album, so he knew it cold, the way it was written:

Freight train, freight train
Run so fast
Freight train, freight train
Run so fast
Please don’t tell what train I’m on
They won’t know what route I’ve gone.

It was a poignant moment for me, the more so because this is a festival I had been attending since I was his age and younger.  With his grandma singing with us, three generations of our family joined together in that workshop.

What we are doing is, in a sense, not that different from what many families do.  Every family has its own traditions.  It could be a certain kind of cooking,  art, sports or politics.  We pass them down not through insisting on lessons, or through a system of careful education, but by doing things together, enjoying being together while we are doing them, and taking delight in seeing someone new learn a piece of what we love.

The rest of the weekend, my son ran around with the other kids, playing games, but with music all around, under every tree and in every corner – just like his father and his uncle used to do when we were his age.  With all the excitement of the game, I wondered if he’d forgotten all about the singing, but he asked me that night to read him Elizabeth’s Song, a wonderful children’s book by Michael Wenberg about how Elizabeth Cotten wrote “Freight Train” when she was a little girl.  He listened intently, eyes wide.   The book ends with the song, and I sang it to him quietly, huddled with him in the cabin’s upper bunk.   He smiled and listened, his eyes growing smaller, until, at the very end of the song, he fell fast asleep.

It was a moment I will treasure for the rest of my life.

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Henry Spaulding – Cairo Blues

In a post yesterday I mentioned Henry Spaulding, a blues man who sang in St. Louis in the 1920s. Spaulding only recorded two songs in his life, and this is one of them. It remains one of my favorite recordings of all time.

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