Rev. Danny Fisher

I hitched a ride to Hollywood today with a group of UWest colleagues on a Student Activities excursion. I had come to visit with my old and dear friend Robert, but also to acquaint myself with a part of the Los Angeles metro area that I hadn’t yet had a chance to explore. While I was in Tinseltown and the surrounding neighborhoods, I saw two special sights that I wanted to talk about here at the blog. (Incidentally, in the picture directly to the left, taken by Takspa Lekdan, I’m standing in front of the historic Grauman’s Chinese Theater on Hollywood Boulevard.)

It bears mentioning at the outset of this post that both of these sights have to do with music, and, more specifically, musicians. I talked a lot about the effects of the arts in general on my development as a chaplain in an interview I did for Faithful Progressive a couple of years ago, so I’ll spare you a rehash of that and just refer you to the interview. Suffice it to say, I feel that music is an important part of my life–as it is for lots and lots of people.

Anyway, the first of these two sights was Mahalia Jackson’s star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. I wasn’t even looking for it–and then there it was. As I mentioned in a post from this summer, I am something of a civil rights history buff. Mahalia Jackson, whose tombstone declares her “the world’s greatest gospel singer,” was also, of course, a very important figure in the American Civil Rights Movement. I could say more, but I’d rather the much more eloquent Dr. Bobby Jones do it.

When I think of the civil rights movement in the 1960s, Ms. Jackson’s music is as indelible as any of the images, speeches, and events that spring instantly to mind. I was so glad to quite literally stumble on her star and be able to take a moment to reflect on her contributions to the movment.

Not long after I encountered Ms. Jackson’s star, Robert and I drove to Silver Lake for the second sight: the Elliott Smith Memorial on Sunset Boulevard. The memorial is a wall outside of Solutions Audio, where Smith posed for the cover of his fifth album, Figure 8. Robert and I have been major fans of his music for years, and we were both devastated by his suicide in 2003. (For the uninitiated, Smith was an American singer-songwriter perhaps best known for his Academy Award-nominated work on the soundtrack for the hit film Good Will Hunting.)

I was very lucky to meet Elliott Smith briefly in 2000. Some friends and I had driven from Columbus to Pittsburgh just to see him and the band Grandaddy in concert. It was a great show–the best and most memorable concert I have seen. At one point near the end of the show, though, Smith forgot the lyrics to his song “Between the Bars,” a request from the audience, and had to give up playing it. He was clearly discouraged for the remainder of his time on stage. After the show, we waited outside of his green room and met him as he left. He signed an LP for a friend of mine who couldn’t make it to the show, asking me about her and taking time to write a funny little note on the record’s sleeve. I complemented him on what I felt was a fantastic show. He looked at me incredulously: “Really?” He seemed genuinely stunned that I enjoyed myself. I assured him that I did, and he thanked me with a self-depricating laugh, saying, “Well, I don’t know…”

At the time and certainly in retrospect, this was a sad moment. It’s a tragedy that his suffering was such that it couldn’t be communicated to him just how much his words and music meant to so many people. Though his songs often went to places darker than many of us will ever know, they were always accessible, expressing feelings that were at least somewhat familiar. Personally speaking, his songs have helped me at certain times to feel less lonely, less lost. I can’t tell you how valuable that has been to me.

I leave you with a bit of Elliott Smith performing one of his best songs below.

Here’s the latest on the demonstrations against Myanmar’s military junta by the Theravāda Buddhist Sangha there from Agence France-Presse. And, happily, it’s inspiring and hopeful stuff.

Stepping out of her home in tears, Myanmar’s democracy icon Aung San Suu Kyi greeted Buddhist monks Saturday in a landmark moment for a swelling protest movement against the military junta.

Armed guards usually block the road leading to the rambling lakeside house, but in an unprecedented move, they allowed about 1,000 monks and an equal number of their supporters to walk past the place where she has been detained for 12 of the past 18 years.

As the rain poured down, Aung San Suu Kyi walked out with two other women and cried as she waved to the monks, witnesses said.

They stopped outside her home for about 15 minutes and chanted a Buddhist prayer: “May we be completely free from all danger, may we be completely free from all grief, may we be completely free from poverty, may we have peace in heart and mind.”

Some of their supporters broke into tears as they joined in with their own refrain, chanting: “Long life and health for Aung San Suu Kyi, may she have freedom soon.”

There was no interruption from about 20 uniformed security police, who had opened the roadblock. After the monks left the road was again closed.

The witnesses said Aung San Suu Kyi did not appear to speak to the monks, who have been leading an escalating show of strength that has left the junta facing its most prolonged challenge in nearly two decades.

The 62-year-old has become an internationally recognised figurehead of the pro-democracy movement in Myanmar since her National League for Democracy won 1990 elections by a landslide.

The military has never recognised the result, however, and the Nobel Peace Prize laureate now has virtually no contact with the outside world, apart from a live-in maid and periodic visits from her doctor.