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about

At sixteen years of age my childhood innocence was shaken when I discovered that church doors were often locked. Struggling with what seemed a cruel contradiction, l began my ruminations about the Church, and specifically the role of women in the Church. Nancy Qualls-Corbett’s 'The Sacred Prostitute' fueled interest in the Church’s role in rites of passage - ABB

lyrics

THE CHURCH DOOR

In the days before the church door was locked
In the days before the alter was stripped bare
You could go in at any time and assume the
Presence was there

Like in that ancient church in Rome at Easter
all alight with candles
Stained glass flickering in the hush of
murmured prayer
I was cleaned up, l was lifted up when
l was beyond repair
In the days before the church door was locked

But now there’s a sign on the rectory door
"No hand-outs here, there’s no help here anymore
Go down to social services, maybe they can help you
We couldn’t put up with all the razzamatazz
and the hullabaloo”
Oh Lord Thundering Jesus

Where do you run?
l guess l`ll just have to meet you in the woods
or in bed
It`s all down to dead reckoning now
The machine has failed us
and it's all been said
Think of all those empty pews
all those forgotten stairwells
leading up to silent, solemn bells
Ancestors lie forgotten in stone cold crypts
they could tell us a thing or two without
moving their lips
Like in the days before the church door was locked

The thunder in this valley is louder
than any place on earth
l can’t wait for the rain to wash away this bitter thirst
Maybe l’m like a Katherine Wheel running out of spark
Tell me it’ll all be fine in the morning
that God can see in the dark
Say something wise
Oh Lord Thundering Jesus



l went out without my veil and was accused of adultery
My petticoats dragging for all the world to see
With a fear of penetration l reached the point of entry
into the real world of cold hard fact
And that was the day the church door was locked

l've been taken in the corn fields, the sun shining high
Walked into waterfalls wet up to my thighs
Pulled clown In the sands on mazy moon nights
Drawn between sheets, introduced to the rites
the wrong way

And just when I need it, l find the church door locked
Throw some water on me shake me awake
l think l'm in shock
Fling wide the doors God, fling wide the doors
Get the Bishop to make room for the
sacred prostitute and the whores

Unlock the doors, let's file in
and feel at home since home is where the heart ls
where charity begins
Like in the days before the church door was locked

Oh Lord Thundering Jesus, where do you run?

credits

from keyhole and the eternal kiss, released February 21, 2012

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Anne Beverly Brown Calgary, Alberta

There are few excursions more enchanting than those taken in the imagination of an inspired songwriter. This experience is offered by Anne Beverly Brown in
'Keyhole and the Eternal Kiss' and 'The Landlord's Daughter'. Both are original song collections of color and romance, immediacy and intimacy, grace and pulse. "Better than music, better than poetry..." ... more

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