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Christianity & the Arts, Winter 2000 The Magazine Christianity & the Arts Online Winter 2000 Homecoming Lyrics of Canadian Songwriter Bruce Cockburn By Brian Walsh At home in the darkness but hungry for dawn . Forgetfulness is the temptation of homelessness. Elie Wiesel puts it this way: "The one who forgets to come back has forgotten the home he or she came from and where he or she is going. Ultimately, one might say that the opposite of home is not distance but forgetfulness. One who forgets, forgets everything, including the roads leading homeward." This relation of home and memory is, of course, not alien to the Scriptures. Indeed, it is precisely forgetfulness that is seen to occasion the homelessness of exile, and it is memory that keeps the vision of homecoming alive while in exile. "Don't forget where you have come from, who led you out of slavery and who gave you this bountiful land," says Deuteronomy 8, lest you go into exile. And when exile does befall forgetful Israel, it is memory of Yahweh's past faithfulness - memories of Abraham and Sarah, Noah, David, indeed of creation and exodus - that funds the prophetic imagination and keeps alive the vision of homecoming. If home is a place of deeply rooted memories, then homelessness is a state of amnesia in which we forget who we are precisely because we forget where we come from. And as long as the amnesia holds, there is no way back, no homecoming. The themes of home, homelessness, and homecoming, together with the motif of memory, are ubiquitous in the lyrics of Canadian songwriter and performer, Bruce Cockburn. From his earliest albums, Cockburn appears as a pilgrim who bears "the dream of a homeland" in his heart. Here is an artist on a quest, on a path, that is ultimately directed to homecoming. This theme is established with a simple eloquence in the early song, "One Day I Walk" on the 1971 High Winds White Sky album. one day i walk in flowers one day i walk on stones today i walk in hours one day i shall be home Such experiences of home are the stuff of memories, the imaginative source of visions of homecoming. In his song "Joy Will Find a Way" (from the album, Joy Will Find A Way, 1975), Cockburn sings: make me a bed of fond memories make me to lie down with a smile The memories of home are fond. They are the kinds of thoughts that afford one a peaceful night's sleep. But what happens when the memories are nightmares and one is beset with insomnia? What if home is a site 1 of 6 02/01/2010 5:04 PM Christianity & the Arts, Winter 2000 of terribly broken memories? What if it is memories that stand in the way of homecoming? In "Gavin's Woodpile" (from In the Falling Dark, 1976) Cockburn recounts the experience of splitting wood "safe within the harmony of kin." But then "visions begin to crowd my eyes / like a meteor shower in the autumn skies." These visions are broken and painful memories of a "bleak-eyed prisoner" in a federal facility, or the "death in the marrow and death in the liver" of aboriginal peoples suffering from mercury poisoning in Northern Ontario. As these memories weigh down upon the artist "a helpless rage seems to set" his "brain on fire," and he is left to "wonder at the lamp-warm window's welcome smile." How can there be harmony inside when there is such disharmony outside? How can this home of "fond memories" be sustained in the face of devastating social and ecological displacement? And things get worse. The split between harmony inside and disharmony outside gets shattered when home becomes a site of disharmony, paralysis, and empty dreams. Consider "Candy Man's Gone"" from the 1983 Trouble With Normal album: Oh sweet fantasia of the safe home Where nobody has to scrape for honey at the bottom of the comb Where every actor understands the scene And nobody ever means to be mean Catch it in a dream, catch it in a song Seek it on the street, you find the candy man's gone I hate to tell you but the candy man's gone What then are the prospects for homecoming if home is but a sweet fantasia, a failed dream, a shattered memory? Does the pilgrim devolve into a "grim traveler" ("Grim Travelers" on Humans, 1980) who is filled with rage but has no clear idea as to why he is paralyzed by such anger? Or will he end up displaced, as in "How I Spent My Fall Vacation" (Humans, 1980)? like Bernie in his dream a displaced person in some foreign border town waiting for a train part hope part myth while the station keeps changing hands Or is it even worse? Will he end up a "loner" struggling with "days of striving, nights of Novocaine" (as in "Loner," Inner City Front, 1981) or simply be lost, "confused and solo in the spawning ground" of a nomadic, homeless promiscuity ("You Pay Your Money and You Take Your Chance," (Inner City Front, 1981)? The 1980 song "Fascist Architecture," is pivotal in Cockburn's work at this time. Writing in the context of his own broken marriage and struggling with the issue of what homecoming might look like in the face of a broken home, Cockburn sets a path toward homecoming by acknowledging his complicity in the dynamics of home-breaking: fascist architecture of my own design too long been keeping my love confined you tore me out of myself alive The secure home that has crumbled was a well-constructed edifice of well-confined love. Such edifices can only crumble, and there is a severe mercy in the crumbling: walls are falling and i'm ok under the mercy and i'm ok 2 of 6 02/01/2010 5:04 PM Christianity & the Arts, Winter 2000 gonna tell my old lady gonna tell my little girl there isn't anything in this world that can lock up my love again But what does unlocked love look like? In Cockburn's work from the early 1980s to the present such love is the impetus for a radical politicalization. On this reading, abrasive political songs like "Rocket Launcher," "Call it Democracy," "People See Through You," "Stolen Land," and "Where the Death Squad Lives" are impassioned protests against the political and economic forces that have rendered late modernity as the age of the expatriate, the refugee, and the wanderer. And just as it is the experience of exile that engenders the most powerful poetry of homecoming in Scripture, so also is Cockburn's most eloquent hymn of homecoming written in the context of a shantytown in Pinochet's Chile. In "Santiago Dawn" (World of Wonders, 1985) Cockburn recounts a narrative of revolutionary opposition to an oppressive regime. at the crack of dawn the first door goes down snapped off a makeshift frame in a matter of minutes the first rock flies barricades burst into flame first mass rings through the smoke and gas day flowers out of the night creatures of the dark in disarray fall before the morning light bells of rage-bells of hope as the 10 year night wears down sisters and brothers are coming home to see the Santiago dawn Santiago sunrise see them marching home see them rising like grass through cement in the Santiago dawn i got a dream and i'm not alone darkness dead and gone all the people marching home kissing the rush of dawn The purveyors of strong-armed homelessness are "creatures of the dark" who cannot keep down the ineluctable dream of homecoming in the hearts of all people. The only appropriate response to such violent homelessness is to ring bells of rage, which are bells of hope. Here Cockburn clearly moves beyond the "helpless rage" and paralysis of "Gavin's Woodpile" and learns a hope for homecoming from some of the most desperate of the homeless. Note, however, when the bells of rage and hope are rung, they are "at the crack of dawn." The bells of homecoming are bells of light against darkness, and they are the eucharistic bells of the first mass. The dangerous pilgrimage toward home is a religious quest undertaken in the face of deep darkness that would render us homeless. And Cockburn here proclaims that the hope of homecoming cannot be snuffed out - not by right - wing dictators, nor by postmodern cynicism. This hope for home is constitutive of the human 3 of 6 02/01/2010 5:04 PM Christianity & the Arts, Winter 2000 condition. Like grass through cement, it will irrepressibly emerge and animate human action against all odds. A Sensitivity for Homelessness Authentic homecoming requires both a profound grasp of one's own homelessness and deep solidarity with the most desperate of the homeless. And since Cockburn's work displays both of these stances, it is not surprising that we encounter a delightful sense of settled homecoming in the albums of the early 1990s - Nothing but a Burning Light, 1991, and the romantically beautiful Dart to the Heart, 1993. And while these albums lack some of the lyrical and musical vitality and passion of earlier offerings, and at times border on a smug self-satisfaction ("I ride and I shoot and I play guitar / And I like my life just fine," from "Great Big Love" on Nothing But A Burning Light), there is still much to be learned about homecoming here.