Sinead O’Connor released an album in 2007 named “Theology”.  It is an awesome album with great depth and insight.  There are several songs that stand out to me for their artistry and her incredible vocal talents.  But one, this week, is haunting me for its lyrical depth.

Out Of The Depths

Out of the depths I cry to you oh lord
don’t let my cries for mercy be ignored
If you keep account of sins  who would stand?
But you have forgiveness in your hands

And I’ve heard religion say you’re to be feared
But I don’t buy into everything I hear
And it seems to me you’re hostage to those rules
That were made by religion and not by you

And I’m wondering will you ever get yourself free
Is it bad to think you might like help from me?
Is there anything my little heart can do
To help religion share us with you?

For you’re like a ghost in your own home
Nobody hears you crying all alone
Oh you are the one true really voiceless one
They have their backs turned to you for worship of gold and stone

And to see you prisoner makes me weep
Nobody hears you screaming in the streets
And it’s sad but true how the old saying goes
If God lived on earth people would break his windows

I long for you as watchmen long for the end of night

There are a few things that stand out to me from these lines.  The first is probably heightened by the question asked of me by Gwen this past Sunday.  She asked,

Why are there denominations?

I was ready with an answer but I held it in check.  I could’ve answered with spite and anger,  “Denominations are sets of beliefs that define who you don’t fellowship with.”   I won’t deny that my opinion on denominations isn’t far from that.  But when asked by my 11 year old I did feel the need to temper it with a bit of a filter that would take the edge off the bile behind my teeth.  I quickly scrambled on a mental search for a better way to say it…..and came up with “Denominations are groups of people that believe the same.”  I thought I’d done my duty and gotten myself out of stirring the theological pot with my daughter…I thought.

Gwen followed with a retelling of a conversation with a friend of her’s who had explained to her that you HAD to be in a denomination.  You couldn’t just be a christian.  And there we were.  Right in the middle of the conversation I’d tried to avoid.

Think what you want about the subject or my opinion of the subject but I know this is true – Denominations weren’t Jesus’ idea and I’m sure he wouldn’t approve.

What does this have to do with the song above?  These lines –  “And it seems to me you’re hostage to those rules, that were made by religion and not by you.”

Sinead hits it on the head here.  I strongly suspect that every denomination thinks they have it the most right.  We all have our sets of ways to see, understand, have faith in God.  The truth, again, is that we all have it wrong.  There will not be a special seat in heaven for that one person among us who got it just right.  The one who understood God perfectly.  We all get it wrong.

All of us are wrong.

And even knowing that, we set up our particular collection of beliefs that describe, and limit, entrance into our club.

Instead of unity on our commonalities we choose separation on our differences.  The enemy laughs.  Have you ever heard “Divide and Conquer”?  A military tactic that has been known and used for centuries.

Sinead goes on, a few lines later, to reveal her desire to be a solution to this problem – “Is there anything my little heart can do to help religion share us with you?”.  Maybe, she ponders, her efforts can somehow overcome the divisions created by religion’s rules and connect people with God in spite of religion.

She goes on to describe her sorrow at seeing the travesty of religion as a barrier to God.  But, for me, it is the last line that resonates.

Religion has definitely been a barrier between God and I.  Critique away as to how this shouldn’t be or how it can be different, but it is.  And that is exactly why the last lines carry such import for me.

I long for you as watchmen long for the end of night

The watchman remembers what daylight was like.  When his shift began it was probably light.  Heck, he’d lived his whole life on this planet and he knew what the sun was and he knew its schedule.  But in the night, when there is no trace of the light that rules the day he finds himself longing for the moment when he would see it again.  Criticize him for his shortsightedness, his lack of faith, his downright stupidity but in the middle of the night the darkness seemed the most real and the light seemed a dream.

I remember times when there weren’t barriers (or at least fewer barriers) between God and I.  But right now it feels like night and, like the watchman, I wait for the morning and hope that the sun isn’t just a dream.

I’m not sure if Sinead intended the meaning I took from her song  but I suspect so.  Thanks Sinead for putting to words emotions I wrestle with.

And…to answer your question, Sinead, yes, there is something your heart can do to help.  You’ve already done it.

Remind us that our conversation is with God, not with religion.