God Is a Drummer

I never bought into the notion of the stern, bearded white-guy God who goes to all the trouble to make a fabulous creation called World and then fashions human beings hell-bent on destroying it. Who sits in judgment of these flawed mortals that he himself created, telling them to smite this one and stone that one, ignoring the prayers of innocents being mauled, beaten, raped, smitten and apparently never considering that he made some mistakes and might correct them. Who abandons his son and sends him away to the cruel boarding school of life on earth, has him murdered, brings him home and the two of them watch a few thousand years of brutal destruction in the son’s name. Who goes to all the trouble of endowing humans with thinking brains and then lets them turn them off in blind faith that the son loves them and they need only believe and obey without question and then they’ll have their own spot in heaven to watch the show. I mean, really?

But after going to the Maple Leaf Club in New Orleans with some of the Jazz Course students last night to see bassist George Porter and his band and watch open-mouthed the drummer sitting on his throne creating universe after universe with some five drums and seven cymbals, I’m convinced that the spiritual force (neither man nor woman) that sits behind Creation is a drummer. Playfully and seriously driving the dynamic forces of the natural world and the sentient beings who have the good sense to align themselves with wind, water, stones, mountains and a skyful of stars. The drummer keeps track of it all, steers the whole show and propels it forward, calls to the rest of the band and responds to it, gently guides or thunderously takes center stage. It really is extraordinary to witness the power and the sensitivity, the imaginative combinations and vibrant energy, the exquisite control of it all born from relentless discipline and determination to create and re-create worlds that uplift, sustain, refresh all with the ears and eyes to witness it.

 

Equally astounding is that amongst the firmament of “stars,” the Jo Jones, Philly Joe Jones, Elvin Jones, the Tony Williams, Jack De Johnette, Brian Blade, Herlin Rileys of the jazz world, are thousands of people (like last night’s) whose names are not well-known but are indeed masters of their universe. Not to mention all the Ghanaian master drummers, Balinese drummers, Afro-Cuban drummers, samba drummers and more playing the world into Creation. 

 

So away with the bearded guy. Unless he is sitting behind a drum set.