jazz

Eleven years ago I spent over three weeks in Australia. Towards the end of the trip, I decided to purchase a few items for my family. After doing so, I saw an antique store and decided to have a look. I saw a wooden box, met Frank, the storeowner and asked about the item. As we spoke I became more interested in his story.

He had escaped from an “Iron Curtain” country 51 years before, saw his father killed in World War II, raised his family with strong values, etc. As we stood there I put my hand on his shoulder and said, “Frank, you have led a very courageous life.”His eyes welled up with tears and he dropped his head. I said, “No one has ever told you that, have they?” He shook his head indicating “No.” I gave him a hug and said that I would be back to purchase the box later that day.

I arrived back at Frank’s store late that afternoon. I was told he didn’t take Visa so I’d have to go to the bank the next day before I could buy it. As I turned to leave I saw a photo on his desk and asked about it? He turned to pick up a digital camera and began to show me pictures of his musical instrument collection – 87 beautiful antique instruments. I asked him if he played classical music and he said, “No, I play jazz, pure jazz, not like what you hear today, but the purest of jazz.” He said that with your head you play the notes, but it is with the heart that you play the jazz. He proceeded to explain to me that jazz music was played in 32 bars. The first 16 were the purest of jazz and that the next eight bars were intended to show your heart. The last eight bars were to be taken back to the pure message of the jazz. I said, “Frank, show me your heart!”

He looked at me and then went over to his desk and pulled out a case containing a clarinet. He gently held the instrument in his hands and showed it to me. He said that an instrument was never meant to be left in the case because there was “no life there.” Frank began to play that clarinet and, for a moment, he was lost in a place of beauty and wonder. When he finished I said that I would be back tomorrow. I told him that his willingness to show me his heart was indicative of a man who was willing to take risks.

I arrived at Frank’s shop at 10:30 AM the next day and gave him the money for the wooden box. As I did he began to share with me his discontent for the organized church. It seems the article in the morning newspaper he had been reading was about a local church scandal. I told him that I agreed with him, but that I also knew that the things he was discontent with were not what Jesus was like. He asked what I meant by that? I said, “Frank, the church is like jazz music. It’s played in 32 bars. The first 16 are the pure message: the cross and the resurrection, and Jesus. The next eight bars are grace demonstrated to us because God knew at times our hearts would lead us astray. But in the case of this local church, the last eight bars had drifted away from the pure message, while all along they were intended to go back to the first 16 bars. It is because of that ‘drifting,’ Frank, that the message of Jesus gets clouded.”

Our conversation ended, but Frank seemed to understand. I asked for his address, but he had already prepared it for me before I came in that day. I sent him a copy of the “Passion of Christ” and told him that this was the pure message… the purest of jazz. He smiled, hugged me, and said that he was eager to experience a message that was heartfelt and pure.