Spitball Army

Last week I received, in the mail, a press package from an independent musical artist going by the name, Gileah and The Ghost Train (check out her/their music on myspace).  The envelope contained the CD (in a classy digipak) and a semi-personalized note.  In the note, the artist’s music is compared to The Cardigans, Rilo Kiley, The Sundays and Cat Power – I am on board with the Rilo Kiley comparison, but think the Cat Power one is a bit of a stretch – but what made me pause while zipping through the materials was the closing of the note:

From the bottom of my heart I thank you for your time…
Blessings on your head.

Gileah

Well, I thought, that sounded nice: blessings on my head.  I don’t know what it means, but it sounds kind and gentle.

So, I did what I normally do when I need an answer to a vexing question – I went to Google!  We used to, when I was in grade school, have contests where we were posed with a question that required the gathering of information, and the students involved raced to the Encyclopedia Brittanica or World Book Encyclopedia volumes, flipping pages until the answer was scribbled down and the volumes re-shelved.  Today, that cumbersome process has become as easy as typing a few characters into the Google toolbar.

Anyway, being a man of the times, I typed “blessings on your head” into my toolbar, and here is some text from one of the entries that came up:

The word “blessing” is found in many places; some pleasant and entertaining, and some more troubling. Remember in Fiddler on the Roof, when Tevye reports his nightmare in which his wife’s mother, may she rest in peace, surprises him by telling him that his daughter is going to marry someone other than the butcher’s son?

A blessing on your head
(Mazel Tov, Mazel Tov)
To see a daughter wed
(Mazel Tov, Mazel Tov)
And such a son-in-law
Like no-one ever saw
The tailor Motel Camzoil

Oy, of course I remember that movie.  The author of this presentation further explains his example:

In the context of the musical, “blessing” is ironic, but it’s a light-hearted catchy melody. Likewise we feel a spot of warmth in our hearts, like a touch of whiskey from the emerald isle, when we hear an Irish blessing, as well as the implicit blessing in Curran’s naming “and may life be for you, one long sweet song.”…

…However, “blessing” for many of us may have some sour associations. Does you stomach turn when some politician ends his or her speech with “Thank you, and God bless America”? Or singing “God bless America” along with “Take me out to the ball game” during the seventh inning stretch? Why am I troubled? Too often it feels like smug self-assurance. “Look at us – me! We’re so blessed. We are God’s favorites, not like those God-forsaken sinners in other parts of the world.” I get angry because I would like our leaders and our nation to be more humble, to invite the kind of self-criticism that the prophets brought to the kings and peoples of old. “How can you say “God bless America” when your decisions kill thousands abroad, and deepen the poverty and hopelessness of millions here at home?” How about “and God have mercy on us”?

Fair enough.  Rev. Ratzlaff goes on to quote extensive passages from the writings of Rachel Naomi Remen, a medical doctor who counsels cancer patients, who has written books including Kitchen Table Wisdom:

As a young doctor, I thought that serving life was a thing of drama and action and split-second judgment calls. A question of going sleepless and riding in ambulances and outwitting the angel of death. A role open only to those who have prepared themselves for years. Service was larger than ordinary life, and those who served were larger than life also. But I know now that this is only the least part of the nature of service. That service is small and quiet and everywhere. That far more often we serve by who we are not what we know. And everyone serves whether they know it or not.

We bless the life around us far more than we realize. Many simple, ordinary things that we do can affect those around us in profound ways: the unexpected phone call, the brief touch, the willingness to listen generously, the warm smile or wink of recognition. We can even bless total strangers and be blessed by them. Big messages come in small packages. All it may take to restore someone’s trust in life may be returning a lost earring or a dropped glove.

This was pretty much the place where I was expecting to arrive.  My impression of Gileah’s salutation wasn’t one rooted steadfastly in any particular religious tradition.  It felt like a spiritual nod.  And, whether it was or not, I have chosen to accept it that way.

We can even bless total strangers and be blessed by them. Big messages come in small packages.

This was not a turning point in my life, or even a “lightbulb” moment of realization.  Just a dot of affirmation at a moment when it could be noticed and appreciated.

Perhaps, somehow, I can quietly pass it on.