Friday, September 7, 2012

Rebel Yell

It starts with a yell. Crying from the depths of oppression. Celebrating the joy of liberation. Wailing in the dark night of the soul. Writhing in the throes of passion. Inciting revolution. Indicting institutions. Inviting absolution. Whatever the situation, there’s a yell.

It’s Jesus yelling about the religious hypocrites and his own forsakenness, calling for the thirsty sinners to come and for the thieves in the Temple to go.

It’s The Who’s Roger Daltrey yelling about the teenage wasteland and not getting fooled again or James Brown yelling about feeling good.

It’s the psalmist yelling about taking the enemy’s infants and dashing them against the rocks and Metallica’s James Hetfield yelling about being imprisoned by darkness and horror.

It’s the lover of Song of Songs yelling for his love to come away with him and Bruce Springsteen yelling baby, we were born to run.

It’s King David and Bono and all of humanity yelling, “How long?!”

Often there are no words—just a sound from the deepest waters of the soul’s well. It’s an expression of what it is to be a reasonable, self-controlled human experiencing more life than can be understood or dismissed.

Is it coming from the Bible or from my speakers? “Glory!” “Hey!” “Hallelujah!” “Help!” “Rock!” “Roll!” “Wop-bop-a-loo-bop, a-lop bam boom!” It’s a yell and it’s rock n’ roll.

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