In the Morning

Goldenrod and the 4H stone The things I brought you when I found out You had cancer of the bone Your father cried on the telephone And he drove his car into the Navy yard Just to prove that he was sorry In the morning, through the window shade When the light pressed up against your shoulderblade I could see what you were reading All the glory that the Lord has made And the complications you could do without When I kissed you on the mouth Tuesday night at the Bible study We lift our hands and pray over your body But nothing ever happens I remember at Michael's house In the living room when you kissed my neck And I almost touched your blouse In the morning at the top of the stairs When your father found out what we did that night And you told me you were scared All the glory when you ran outside With your shirt tucked in and your shoes untied And you told me not to follow you Sunday night when I cleaned the house I found the card where you wrote it out With the pictures of your mother On the floor at the great divide With my shirt tucked in and my shoes untied I am crying in the bathroom In the morning when you finally go And the nurse runs in with her head hung low And the cardinal hits the window In the morning in the winter shade On the first of March, on the holiday I thought I saw you breathing All the glory that the Lord has made And the complications when I see His face In the morning in the window All the glory when He took our place But He took my shoulders and He shook my face And He takes and He takes and He takes - Casimir Pulaski Day by Sufjan Stevens-

Casimir Pulaski Day is a song about wrestling. It's not the song of strong adversaries pitted against each other. Rather, the narrator speaks from deep loss and an abiding faith that no longer makes sense. It's not a story of the strong, but a story for the weak.

Sufjan speaks of losing a close friend to bone cancer. The rising romantic love between these friends foils her disease. As Sufjan gets closer to his friend, he desires to follow her wherever she goes ("with my shirt tucked in and my shoes untied"). Yet, his baptism into love is also his baptism into true loss, and where she goes, he cannot yet follow. He is left with a faith shaken by grief.

The song follows Sufjan's wrestling in two recurring phrases: "In the morning" & "All the glory." Key scenes take place in the morning, but notice it's resemblance to mourning. Memories are now a part of Sufjan's grief, a grief which complicates the faith that once made sense. The lines with "All the glory" revolve around the Lord in whom Sufjan placed his faith. Except, Sufjan also speaks "All the glory" when his love ran outside and told him not to follow her. Something about that moment, even in his grief, strikes Sufjan in the same way as the works of God. His wrestling cannot be divided between grief & faith. The two overlap. Grief complicates things. Faith complicates things.

Casimir Pulaski Day speaks as someone wrestling in grief & in faith. They are not separated. Rather, grief & faith are intwined, complicated. Complicated. Sufjan sees that love complicates things. Grief complicates things. Faith is never simple, but complicated. Faith is not merely an intellectual consent but an active trust that is subject to our harshest experiences. Sufjan's experience with grief did not end his faith. Rather, he remains both faithful to grief & God.

Sufjan, the artist, sings his story of complications arising from real grief & faith. But his response is not to abandon either. He fully embraces both. His faith informs his grief, & his grief informs his faith. It's complicated. Sufjan's wrestling is what Anselm & Augustine called "faith seeking understanding." Credo ut intelligam,  I believe that I may understand. Sufjan holds fast to the God who took his place. When it seems like all God does is take, Sufjan wrestles from within faith to better understand both grief & a suffering Christ.

In the end, I see Casimir Pulaski Day as a song about wrestling. I might be wrong to interpret what Sufjan may have intended to be his song of grief. Yet, I cannot hear Casimir Pulaski Day apart from grief & faith. In the morning, do I wrestle in faith & grief? Am I willing to look to the suffering Christ, not to take away my suffering & grief, but rather to name the pain in my soul? I cannot separate the wrestling from the hope that, should we mirror the suffering Christ, we may one day, by grace, reflect the resurrected Christ.

-HGM