Matthew, Conversion, and Bruce Springsteen
Feast of St. Matthew
The following was given on a retreat for college students.
The two most important facts to know about Bruce Springsteen is that (1) he is the greatest arena rocker ever and that (2) he had a really tough relationship with his father.
A good number of Bruce’s songs are about his dad—and he’s admitted that his music hasn’t always been fair to his old man. Dutch Springsteen was an abusive alcoholic with serious mental illness—but, even still, in Bruce’s eyes, he was a complex person. And another thing to know about Bruce is that he was raised and educated as a Catholic, so deep down, he always believes in redemption, though he doesn’t practice his faith anymore.
One of the most poignant tracks about his dad is called “Adam Raised a Cain”—and the title really says it all. Coming on his fourth album, Darkness on the Edge of Town, it’s heavier and darker than the fun, party rocking “Born to Run” Boss you might be familiar with. In this song, Bruce looks at himself in relation to his dad like Cain must have looked at Adam. How do you have a guy who kills his brother out of jealousy? Make him the son of the guy who ate the apple and got us all kicked out of paradise in the first place.
So, introspectively, Bruce is looking at himself and realizing that he’s got some of his dad living in him. It’s the stock he comes from—and there’s no escaping it. We’re all sons of Adam, and sons of Cain, and the sons of the whole messed up line of people that runs from them to us. Bruce sings: “We were prisoners of love, a love in chains. He was standing In the door, I was standing in the rain. With the same hot blood burning in our veins. Adam raised a Cain.”
Now, I love this song—even as someone who has a very good relationship with his dad. But, like all great songs, what makes it great is that it hits at something universal, transcending the artist’s unique experience. And I think it’s the feeling of being trapped by our circumstances. Who we are is a result of where we come from. We simply are this way and there’s no changing it. It’s pre-programmed in our DNA. I am who I am and there’s nothing I can do about it. Have you ever felt that before? I know I have.
Earlier this year I was helping run a retreat. We had this guy Joe give a talk. I knew Joe and one of his daughters independently of each other, so I never really saw them interact. In his talk, Joe spoke about his relationship with his dad, which sounded a lot like Bruce and Dutch Springsteen: abuse, neglect, love-mixed-with-hatred, all of it. It was a powerful testimony. But what struck me was after the talk, when his daughter showed up. He hugged her with the most tender love I’ve ever seen. She asked him how it went. He said it was great. And they were happy to be there with each other. It was so wholesome and pure.
And in that moment, I thought of Springsteen’s song. Joe had every reason to be his father, but he wasn’t. He is a father to his children in the exact opposite way his father was to him. In other words, Adam doesn’t have to raise a Cain. We can choose to break out of that mold. We can be someone different. But here’s the question: what’s going to get us to change?
For Joe, the answer was Christ. Christ called Joe to a different way of living, and he responded.
Today’s the feast of St. Matthew. We know from the Gospel that Matthew was a tax collector. I know you’re too young to know this for certain, but people do not like tax collectors. In the time of Jesus, when Israel was occupied territory by Rome, it was the Romans who collected taxes—and you can imagine where that money went. So that means that Matthew, a Jew, is collaborating with the enemy. He’s turned his back on his people—and he’s done well because of it. There’s a chance Matthew even lost his own family because of his business. And even if Matthew wanted out, he was locked in. The Romans wouldn’t be kind to losing someone so lucrative. And the Jews wouldn’t take him back. He was stuck. Trapped by his identity as a tax collector. Nothing he could do about it, except maybe find a girl who didn’t hate him and start a family of tax collectors to carry on the trade.
Then along comes Jesus. Jesus walks into the tax post, looks at Matthew, and says “Follow me.” And, to everyone’s surprise, Matthew gets up and goes. There’s no back and forth, no argument. No proposal of a better life. Just the Lord showing up and calling him forth.
Only Jesus Christ can do that. Only Christ can walk into the darkness of our situation, when everything seems locked, take us by the hand, and lead us out into freedom. Jesus is the one who breaks the chain of sin that connects each human person—because Jesus, too, is a son of Adam, and a son of Cain, and the son of everyone else in this messed up world. But he’s also the Son of God. The Son sent into the world that we have may have life.
What Jesus announces to us is the Good News that we all want to hear: you don’t have to be the person you are. You can be someone different—someone better. He did it for Matthew. He did it for my friend Joe. And I think he did it, too, for Bruce Springsteen. He can do it for you, as well.
Every time you come to Mass or go to pray, imagine Jesus walking into your life like he did Matthew’s tax office that day. See him reaching his hand out to you. Take it. Get up. Walk with him. Leave the old behind. Go forward, and upward, to where he’s leading you. And never look back.
The Good News is that Jesus wants to make you a saint. So don’t get in his way.