It didn’t occur to me until yesterday that Prince was a mortal man.
I know that sounds funny, coming from a Christian believer. And one who aspires even to Thomistic clarity. We Christians don’t believe in any immortal God-men, other than Jesus. And you don’t need the rigor of St. Thomas Aquinas’ mind to grasp that all men die, even the apparent demi-god behind Anotherloverholeinyohead.
But life is a dance. Lord Jesus taught me that early on. And He used Prince to teach me–and a lot of other people I love, too. So I’m kind of a weepy mess today.
Especially when you throw in the fact that our gospel reading at daily Mass is the funeral gospel, that I have read and preached on in the company of more dead people in their caskets than I can count.
What did St. Paul say to the Pisidian Antiochians? Not “I’m your Messiah and you’re the reason why.” St. Paul said: “But God raised the Messiah from the dead, and for many days He appeared to those who had come up with him from Galilee to Jerusalem. Those are now His witnesses before the people.”
It ain’t over. The Lord is risen. We are His witnesses. Music is music because death doesn’t win. Sometimes I wish that life was never-ending. Two thousand zero zero party over oops out of time? No. The chords of I Wanna Be Your Lover will resound forever. Let’s dance.