Good Friday, Good Jazz

At my church's Good Friday tenebrae service, we each get a nail on the way in. After the service, as we're leaving in darkness and silence, we drop the nails in a tin bucket by the door. The only sound in the church is the patter of falling nails, a sobering reminder that each of us had a hand in putting Christ on the cross. Throughout the service, I was fidgeting with the nail, and by the end I found that I wasn't eager to give it up. I would trace the sharp edges with my fingers, even clutch it tight into my palm, like worrying a toothache with my tongue, as if the constant bite of my own sins was somehow a comfort to have near. The problem is, I don't have the guts to actually pierce my own hand, and even if I did, what's the value of my tainted blood? How often do I find some kind of dark comfort in keeping company with my own spiritual aches and pains instead of turning them over to Christ, who already covered my cosmic tab? I suppose it's because wallowing takes less effort, and I also get a nice martyr-y feeling, as long as I don't think it through too much.

And now for something completely different: after church, I went to see Happy Apple play at the Artist's Quarter in downtown St. Paul with my friend Jason. He's a big fan, and I thought I'd give them a try, and it was definitely worth the effort. Drums, bass, and saxophone is what they've got. According to Happy Apple's mySpace page, they classify themselves as jazz/experimental/crunk. Whatever they are, they are talented and very tight while playing the crazy jazz music, yeah. Here they are in motion:

Whee!

The show also re-enforced in my mind that some types of music go best with a beer. This is one of them. I don't know if it's the classic dark basement jazz club setting, or the nature of jazz itself, but a muscle and brain relaxant seemed to free up a few synaptic pathways for new combination possibilities that my brain may not have been as willing to accept and enjoy when stuck in stone cold weekday patterns. Just a thought.

In an attempt to tie the two halves of my day together, I pose a question:

If the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit played drums, electric bass, and sax in a jazz trio, who would play what, and why?

In my CD player:
Live Current, volume 2 (thank you, MPR)

In my iPod: The Book Thief by Markus Zusak

On my screen:
Jeremiah, Season 1 (jury's still out on this one...)