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Review of Singing from Silence by Sandra Fisher

9/26/2011

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Sandra is the first to respond of those I have invited to review Singing from Silence leading up to its publication.   She lives in a part of the world where Rich Mullins is not well-known, and she belongs to the Jewish faith.  I am honored by her candid remarks.   --Pam Richards
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Rich Mullins

"Singing from Silence by Pamela Richards  is one of the most absorbing and meaningful books I have read in years. It is a  compelling read and once started it is impossible to put down."
 
"In the main, Singing from Silence  is a deeply personal narration of the author’s relationship with the religious  song writer and musical performer Rich Mullins.  It is a beautiful, sensitive  and tragic story.  But it is also much more than that.  While it describes the author's spiritual and emotional journey of self-discovery it is also an exploration of the true meaning of love.  She describes their relationship as   "'a lighter-than-air relationship: both  ecstatic and excruciating.'"
 
"Her personal journey has been  both joyful and uplifting at times but it has also been a tragic one. She describes the hills and valleys of the path she has travelled with sensitivity and insight. But what makes it so special is the amazing honesty with which she narrates this unusual love story."
 
"Pamela Richards is a unique  and free spirit and she has written a deeply moving book that is filled with  poetry and her own artistic vision. Her original view of life and personal philosophy are an important part of her narrative which is enriched with poetry,  music, art and her unique form of spirituality."
 
"It is a book completely devoid of materialistic concerns which is so refreshing in these times. Inspired in essence by King Solomon's Song of Songs, it is a book to think about, to savour and remember."
 
--Sandra Fisher

For a review by Timothy Leonard, click here
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Yahrzeit

9/18/2011

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Sundown, September 18.  I just lit a candle for Richard's yahrzeit.   

"The soul of man is the candle of God"  Proverbs 20:27.

I'm not Jewish, and neither was Rich Mullins.  But life is life, death is death, prayer is prayer.  The candle will burn until sundown tomorrow in his memory; I pray that tomorrow I will have the blessing of doing a good deed so Richard's memory will live.


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Art after Death

5/24/2011

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     I saw a quote from a poster on the internet recently who enthusiastically stated that Richard's life reflected his music.  Believe me, I get the enthusiasm.  To clarify, however, based on what I know of Rich Mullins and his creative process, it would have been the other way around.  His life was not authentic because of the music he wrote: rather, his songs are authentic because they reflected pivotal events that touched his own life.  In order: ethics first, life next, songs last. From the inside out.  

     Richard and I spoke about creativity and the process frequently.  He broke down some of the facets of his songwriting process for me.  He said he deliberately chose words for his lyrics that could carry the greatest possible number of applications to his audience.  To a songwriter, the more ambiguous the lyrics are, the better.  As a result, interpretations of songs are as numerous and varied as the birds of the air.  The glory of song is that can touch everyone who hears it in a different way, while the music of the song binds all those who hear it in a common emotion.   

     Like all his songs, "Elijah" has many interpretations, and none of them are wrong.   He wrote "Elijah" a few years before the last time we met in 1984.    Richard consistently named this as his favorite of his own songs.

     At the beginning of his Nashville career, Richard faced his fears of poverty, wealth, success, failure, death, and life.  The result of his initiation as a public figure was his song, “Elijah.”

     An artist faces his deepest fears at the initiation of his public career.  He is fully aware that his work may not be well-received.  An artist thrives on looking at life from a new perspective, often one that is not agreeable to his audience.  His message may be rejected, or his execution may be criticized.  It is natural for an artist to identify with his work, since it emerges from his personal experience.  His fears of personal rejection are magnified at the moment when his work is exposed to the world. 

     An artist and a prophet have something in common.  The prophet Ezekiel was told to eat the scroll God gave him.  In his mouth, it would be sweet; but in his stomach, it would turn sour.  To be more explicit: for the prophet, what goes down must come up.  Like it or not, it is the work of the prophet or the artist to take the personal and private moments God reveals to him and make them visible and public.   

     Several events which coincided with Richard’s writing this song contribute to the imagery used in “Elijah.”

     John Lennon had been assassinated in December of 1980.  Richard found himself very moved by this event.  There was a Candlelight memorial service in Central Park following Lennon's death that drew 400,000 fans.  A reminder: life is short.  Had Lennon not been a public figure, he would not have been targeted for assassination.  Success is a risk.  Life can be shorter for artists than it is for others.    

     Richard's great-grandmother, the woman who had first taught him to play piano, had recently passed away.  She may have lived a quiet, private life, but her life was limited like everyone else’s.  Fame, lack of fame--we will not live forever.

     Hippocrates was speaking of the art of medicine when he said “Life is short, art is long.”  Yet all artists share a hope that our work will live on beyond our lifespans.  

     When he wrote “Elijah,” Rich Mullins had just become known in Nashville as Amy Grant's up and coming new songwriter.  He had not yet signed with a management company.  The Nashville music machine and Rich Mullins were not a match made in heaven.  Any money making corporation likes a sure thing better than a gamble, and any ethical artist prefers self-expression to commercialism.   Richard's first success had come from a lively, upbeat praise song, "Sing Your Praise to the Lord."  He was feeling pressured to go on producing money-making songs which closely resembled his first one.   As successful as he continued to be with worship songs, Richard knew that he had a much greater range to offer. 

     Praise is the destination, but a Psalm frequently starts in a dark place and brings us on a journey before it lifts us into the light of praise.  Richard knew his audience was on that very human journey, just as he was.  He wanted nothing to do with any temptation to succeed that would limit the range of expression that would permit him to touch more lives.

     He was also dealing with fear of failure:  “If they fed me like a pauper, or if they dined me like a prince.”         

     Some have speculated that this song is a prophecy of his death on the highway.  He did tell me on several occasions he had premonitions of an early death.  And since I last saw Richard, I have reconsidered my ideas of how God speaks to us.  But I still don't believe Richard intended this song to describe his own death. 

     Richard never used the word "death" or "die" in this song.  Read the story of Elijah again.  In fact, Elijah never died.  To "go out like Elijah" is to live on deathlessly.   Like any artist, Richard hoped his songs would live on after his lifespan. His creative ethics demanded that he leave behind the best songs he had to offer, not the biggest money-earners.  Regardless of his popularity or lack of it, he knew what he had to do.  Simply do his best to be true to his own experiences in his songs, whether they would be popular or not.   Four hundred thousand candles are wonderful, but a farewell from the stars of the sky would do just as well for Richard.

     "When I look back on the stars, it'll be like a candlelight in Central Park.  And it won't break my heart to say goodbye. . ." 

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The Candles of St Peter in Chains Cathedral

4/18/2011

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In the fall of 1974, not long after Rich Mullins and I first met, we made one of our walking tours of Cincinnati.  On the Western side of town, we approached St Peter in Chains Cathedral.   

In Pittsburgh, I'd been used to slipping into St. Paul's Cathedral from time to time.  I was emphatically not calling myself a Christian.  It was the summer after I'd graduated high school and I was trying my best to stay clear of the God who had made my mother so crazy.  I never told my rigid Church of Christ mother that I'd just edge into the cathedral when the place was mostly empty to absorb the atmosphere, to the drink in the light of the stained glass windows, and to listen to the trickle of echoes trace the vaulted ceiling.  I found the infusion of burning candles, the aroma of incense--and the absence of my mother--enchanting.  

I didn't meet too many people, but I did observe one woman as she lit a candle, put a coin in the box, and left.  She smiled at me, and I smiled back.   I had pleasant memories of the cathedral there in my hometown. 

As we neared the steps of  Cincinnati's cathedral, I started showing off  for Richard by reciting a poem I'd written on the subject, but I couldn't remember it all.   Richard's background was mostly Quaker and Church of Christ, although he'd been around many Protestant denominations.  He didn't avoid any of them, but he indicated he'd never been in a cathedral before.   As we walked closer to the spire of St Peter in Chains, I stated my intention to go in and dared Richard to join me.  I watched his face to see if he was afraid or uncomfortable.  Not at all.  He was genuinely curious, yet respectful.  

He never was one to turn down a dare, so we went in.  

The architecture of St. Peter in Chains is Greek, not gothic.  The windows are not as much a focal point as in some churches, but the twelve stations of the cross painted in terra cotta, black and gold are striking.  They resemble the style of painting found on Grecian vases.  The mosaic of Christ rising above the altar is compelling.  

Richard and I spent some time in silence taking in the sights and scents of the cathedral.  I don't know if he was praying, but I was not making any effort to pray.  I guess I was just feeling sort of empty, wondering how far I could get from God.  

We walked the stations of the cross and talked about what we saw in hushed voices.  Before we left the church, we approached a rack of a couple dozen votive candles,each of them set in red glass.  I really did not know the correct thing to do, but I bluffed, challenging Richard to light one as I lifted up a match.  "For the one I love, far away," I said as I lit a candle, as though making a toast.  He nodded his head, smiling gently.  He did the same.  "For the one I love, far away."  We put some money in the box and left before anyone had a chance to confront us.  

Richard looked over his shoulder as we left.  

It has taken me a long time to realize that "the one I love, far away" was not my high school boyfriend, although I ached with the loss like any college freshman.  Whoever called me then, calls me still.  If you think of me, light me a candle for the journey home; I'll light you one, too.
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An Argument for Arguing

3/31/2011

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Such an odd pair of friends. How did God put us together? These days I wonder. It seldom makes any sense to me, but it’s the unsolved puzzle that keeps turning in our minds.

Richard Wayne Mullins was a Quaker on a campus full of Bible-thumping conservatives where we met; I was an agnostic--a pagan, he politely called me--yet the friendship we forged was unforgettable.

When you think about it, agreeing is something you do in the beginning of a friendship. You can only safely disagree with someone you really trust. 

Maybe we loved to argue so much because we started out defending such different points of view.  And there really isn't much else to do on a Bible College campus. Study, go to class, eat, argue. Listen to Richard play his music, take a walk together, argue some more.

Even after I converted, arguing remained one of our favorite things to do. No mean, harsh quarelling about disappointed expectations--Just healthy, playful, creative disagreement on just about any topic we could think of, mixed with lots of laughter. The more passionately we defended our points of view, the better. We stretched every point to the extreme, shifted the platform of the argument until we threw it right off balance and brought it back again, quoted every scripture we could think of on the subject, then at last he'd change the topic. I would be amazed to think he'd let me have the last word. Such a gentleman! It was marvelous.

I'd forget about the whole thing.

Then the next time he had a concert, he'd sing back a song he'd just written that topped every point I'd made, turned a corner around every point of view we'd raised, and pulled enough distance from the issue that you could see that beyond every thought, running through matter, time and space, the only argument is love.

You can never argue with one of Richard’s songs. I dare you to try.

Rich Mullins went on to become a Christian celebrity. Perhaps that’s understating it. Some would like to have him beatified, so I guess now that a movie's coming out you could say he’s become a Christian icon.

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That would have made him laugh, not because it’s a great joke--just because I said it.

He loved to laugh.


Me, I went on to be a spectacular Christian failure: a cult member, survivor of an abusive marriage, mother of three children who each became suicidal at some point early in life. Then when Richard died, I stopped going to church altogether because once inside a church, I could not stop crying. I did everything I could to forget him in an effort to ease the pain.

My spiritual path after Richard died might be considered New Age. I struggled to comprehend the meaning of intuition but Richard never had any problem balancing the mundane and the metaphysical. He managed to keep it all in the context of his Christian faith. He wasn’t afraid of anyone’s beliefs. Richard’s life gives me hope that there is sense beyond our senses and there are reasons past reasoning. I learned the God who Richard knew is bigger than the labels we try to fasten to him or the box we try to put him in.

Now that I’m back to remembering him, I cry. I know I’m an awful sight when I’m crying. But that never bothered Richard, because he loved to see me cry. Not because he was cruel, but because he liked me to listen to his songs. When he played his songs, he tried for tears, not applause. If the song didn’t make me cry the first time I heard it, he’d re-write it till it did.

Together we laughed and cried. Richard knew both laughter and tears are a gift and a sign of grace. He never hung back from the joy and sorrow we found in our friendship.

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    Pam Richards

    God help me, I'm an artist.

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