The glory and the pain: theology with Sufjan

I’m loving the music of Sufjan Stevens right now. He is not only one of the finest composers and songwriters working at the moment, he is also incredibly theologically aware. His lyrics are a beautiful exploration of faith and the divine in the mundane experiences of life. In my book, he’s up there with Bono and Dylan.

When I discovered Sufjan the summer before last, he played non-stop in my car for about three months. His song ‘Casimir Pulanski Day’ got the most strenuous workout – I often put this one song on a continuous loop as I drove (a cardinal album-lover’s sin, I know). But after hearing it a thousand times that summer, I still think it’s the pinnacle of Sufjan’s achievement to date. Listen to the song – as Sam says in Garden State, it will change your life. (You can stream or download it free and legally here.) It’s also worth reading the lyric (included in full below).

Casimir Pulanski Day tells the story of a young boy whose girlfriend is suffering from cancer. The teenagers quietly and intimately share their grief. They pray that God will heal her, “but nothing ever happens”, and the girl dies, with the boy at her side. Strangely, however, throughout this tragic story, Sufjan repeatedly reminds us of “all the glory that the Lord has made”.

What does the glory of the Lord have to do with a boy’s grief as he watches his girlfriend dying? Where is God in this story? He isn’t around – they cry out to him, but he does nothing; the girl dies, and her boyfriend is left heartbroken. But as the nurse draws the sheet over her body, the boy looks out the window and catches a glimpse of God’s face:

All the glory that the Lord has made
And the complications when I see His face
In the morning in the window

What kind of God is this, whose glory is evident even in the most tragic of events? This is the “complication” that the boy experiences – the paradox of finding beauty in the midst of death and seeing God in the midst of tragedy. What is the boy to make of this encounter?

The vital clue comes in the last verse of the song:

All the glory when He took our place
But He took my shoulders and He shook my face.
And He takes and He takes and He takes.

We have seen God’s glory in a death once before, “when he took our place”. Because Christ died in our place, his glory now shines everywhere, even in our grief. Death is no longer hopeless, but filled with promise. The characters in the song will one day reunite, when death finally releases its hold on them, God brings them back to life, and they pick up where they left off. Even after the girl’s death, the boy anticipates the imminence of this holy day:

In the morning in the winter shade
On the first of March, on the holiday
I thought I saw you breathing

God is not absent in this story: “He takes and He takes and He takes”. He takes our place, and he takes our pain, and he takes our death. Christ’s death and resurrection has radically reshaped the fabric of life and the world. Because God will one day reverse the effects of death and suffering, even our most heartbreaking experiences are no longer truly tragic. The glory of God’s coming kingdom illuminates all of life, recasting it in hope and joy.

Casimir Pulanski Day

Golden rod and the 4H stone,
The things I brought you
When I found out you had cancer of the bone.

Your father cried on the telephone
And he drove his car into the Navy yard
Just to prove that he was sorry.

In the morning, through the window shade
When the light pressed up against your shoulder blade
I could see what you were reading.

All the glory that the Lord has made
And the complications you could do without
When I kissed you on the mouth.

Tuesday night at the Bible study
We lift our hands and pray over your body,
But nothing ever happens.

I remember at Michael’s house
In the living room when you kissed my neck
And I almost touched your blouse.

In the morning, at the top of the stairs
When your father found out what we did that night
And you told me you were scared.

All the glory when you ran outside
With your shirt tucked in and your shoes untied
And you told me not to follow you.

Sunday night when I cleaned the house
I found the card where you wrote it out
With the pictures of your mother.

On the floor at the great divide,
With my shirt tucked in and my shoes untied
I am crying in the bathroom.

In the morning when you finally go
And the nurse runs in with her head hung low
And the cardinal hits the window.

In the morning in the winter shade
On the first of March, on the holiday,
I thought I saw you breathing.

All the glory that the Lord has made
And the complications when I see His face
In the morning in the window.

All the glory when He took our place
But He took my shoulders and He shook my face.
And He takes and He takes and He takes.

Photo by Joe Lencioni via Flickr