But why do any of us believe in the first place? Church meetings are boring, Church history is sketchy, and Church leaders are (by their own admission) fallible, to say the least. And when you wake up on those Sunday mornings feeling that religion is both the cause of, and the solution to, all of life’s problems, it can sometimes feel tempting to just cut out the middle-man entirely, so to speak.
I presented at a Sunstone Symposium once upon a time (on Low, natch), during which I also attended the ever-popular “Why We Stay” panel, and I’ve often wondered what I would say if I were ever invited to speak there. But in reality, I would make a terrible “Why We Stay” panelist, because my answer would be thoroughly predictable, unimaginative, and unsexy: the Holy Ghost. The Peace which surpasseth understanding, the groanings beyond utterance, those fruits of love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance, etc. and etc. That, quite simply, is why I stay–and is the only reason I stay.
Cause let’s be clear: if I didn’t feel the Holy Ghost, I wouldn’t attend Church, I wouldn’t pay tithing, I wouldn’t pray or read my scriptures or go to the Temple or whatever–and you wouldn’t either, frankly. Indeed, according to D&C 50:17-18, such is the only valid reason to believe in the first place: “Verily I say unto you, he that is ordained of me and sent forth to preach the word of truth by the Comforter, in the Spirit of truth, doth he preach it by the Spirit of truth or in some other way? And if it be by some other way, it is not of God.” If our reasons for attending church or inviting others unto Christ are not due to the Holy Ghost, then we are doing it wrong; all other methods of conversion and retention are manipulative, false, and “not of God”, even if they supposedly teach true principles. One’s “pioneer heritage” is irrelevant, as are our most sophisticated apologetics.
Joseph Smith was once asked by the President of the United States what the principle difference was between Mormonism and all other sects, and he replied simply, “The gift of the Holy Ghost.” All else are appendages, and I quite agree. I have often wanted to not feel the Holy Ghost at Church but have anyways, so I have kept coming, even when all the talks are boring, even when the Sunday School discussion is nil, even when I’ve awoken in that Sunday Morning mood and didn’t want to do anything or go anywhere at all.
Because of course none of this means you won’t still wake up some Sunday mornings feeling lonely, or shipwrecked, or what have you; nor does it guarantee that it won’t validly feel like your Holy Ghost religion is what shipwrecked you in the first place. It only means that your Holy Ghost religion is why you’re willing to put up with that shipwreck to begin with. Like the Apostle Paul on the isle of Malta in Acts 27, you strive to “be of good cheer” because of the catastrophe, not in spite of it. Such, at least, is what Indie-darling and violin-virtuoso Andrew Bird intuited on “Capsized,” the lead-single and opener from his 2016 album Are You Serious?
Like so many of the other Sunday songs we’ve examined so far, this is a break-up song–of waking up and being reminded that “no one is on your side,” and that “darling you’re all alone.” He belts out on the chorus: “And when you wake up, another sunrise/Another break-up, this ship is capsized.” It is a Sunday morning song without ever having to use the word Sunday.
Hence how unsurprising it is when he references the Holy Ghost in the second verse: “It’s a holy ghost, holy ghost religion/It’s a holy ghost religion, Jesus gonna make my…” It’s a strange little non-sequitur (from an artist who’s written many)–at least, it would be to those unfamiliar and un-initiated into the ways of the Sunday Morning mood. But to those who are, it makes perfect sense. The Holy Ghost is why we love; the Holy Ghost is also, therefore, why we heartache.
The same is understood by the White Stripes’ “Dead Leaves and the Dirty Ground” (a song apropos for this late-Autumn season), the third single and opener to their 2001 breakthrough album White Blood Cells.
Whereas Andrew Bird’s is a break-up song, the White Stripe’s by contrast is one of reconciliation (an Atonement, if you will), of returning home at long last to one’s beloved, with a promise to stay for good this time (“And I think I’m gonna stick around/For a while so you’re not alone”) and appreciate a love too long neglected (“Soft hair and a velvet tongue/I want to give you what you give to me/And every breath that is in your lungs/Is a tiny little gift to me”).
As with many an old-timey Blues-Rock number (of which the White Stripes’ catalogue was always a flagrant and intentional throw-back), this song about one’s lover could just as easily double as a tune about one’s relationship with God. Jack White appears cognizant of this fact when he punctuates the song with: “Well any man with a microphone/Can tell you what he loves the most/And you know why you love at all, If you’re thinking of the Holy Ghost/If you’re thinking of the Holy Ghost.” To paraphrase a different religion, the Holy Ghost is the divine in us that honors that which is divine in the beloved. For again, the Holy Ghost is why we love; it’s also, therefore, why we hurt.
It’s also, therefore, why we are willing to put up with the hurt; it’s also, therefore, why so many of us keep showing up to Church in spite of every good reason not to.