But why am I talking about Springsteen? Because everyone is still buzzing about his half-time performance at Sunday night's game. And what a savvy marketing move that was on Springsteen's part. Now that everyone is talking about him, they're also talking about his new album, Working on a Dream. In fact, that's what I want to talk about in this post. But to talk about 2009's Working on a Dream, I first have to talk about two other Springsteen albums: 2002's The Rising and 2007's Magic.

The Rising
With The Rising, Springsteen was one of the first major artists to deal directly with the awful events of 9/11. I could wax poetic about each song on the album, but to save time, I'll focus on just two: "The Rising" and "My City of Ruins." When you take these two powerhouse songs into consideration, you soon realize that the album - title and all - wants you to weigh something we all agree is quite beautiful: the hope of resurrection.

Consider the title track first. "The Rising" tells the story of a firefighter making his way through the darkness of that awful day in September, stretching and straining to escape the horror. He has "dreams of life" as Springsteen sings, and at the song's climax, the dream becomes a reality - perhaps here on earth, but probably in the afterlife. It's ambiguous. Either way, at once the song's story becomes a metaphor for all of America after 9/11 - even for humanity as a whole, 9/11 or no 9/11. And by the close of the song, you cannot help but feel that Springsteen's "rising" is his own gritty terminology for "resurrection." Lest you think I'm skating on thin ice about this, take the time to check out his song catalogue throughout his career. The man unashamedly works religious themes into the framework of his music - so much so that any time another artist does the same thing (example: The Hold Steady), they are compared to the Boss. And if you still question my lyrical/thematic "exegesis," consider "My City of Ruins." The narrative arc of this final song on the album reaches its climax when a determined Springsteen crashes his way through to an emphatic bridge: "Come on, rise up! Come on, rise up! Come on, rise up!" Though "My City of Ruins" wasn't officially released until 2002, Springsteen had written it just days after 9/11, performing it live for a telecast that raised funds for those most affected by the terrorist attacks. Springsteen chose to be accompanied by a gospel choir - a move that seemed to say he wasn't bent on preaching some sort of phoenix-like, mythological narrative; he was bent on preaching the gospel - even if it's not quite the gospel we're used to as preachers.

The Rising was, and still is, one of the most breathtaking albums of hope I've ever heard. I actually think it did something you wouldn't expect a rock album to do after a national tragedy: it helped people heal and learn to believe again, because it perfectly spoke to what they wanted - a resurrection of sorts. The Boss did what he does best: he captured everything in just one word - "rising."

I remember that at the time I hoped believers would push aside petty feelings about Springsteen being a "secular" artist to see that "knowing Bruce" was to know the times in a meaningful way - akin to what Paul did in his own ministry (who was mimicking Christ). I remember hoping that we were going to push for a rising, a resurrection through our own preaching of a new heaven and a new earth held together by a Christ that says, 'Behold, I am making all things new." I remember hoping we would do so all the more when I read this gut-wrenching line from one review at the time of the album's release: "There is more rising on The Rising than in a month of church."

Magic
As much as I'd like to skip ahead to 2009's Working on a Dream at this point, it would be a mistake to leapfrog another important Springsteen album - an album that gave us a one-word, clarifying glimpse into the American spirit. Five years after the release of The Rising - and after a few other side projects (including the exceptional Seeger Sessions) - Springsteen got the E Street Band back together to create 2007's Magic. Though there were a few happy, hopeful tunes in the lineup, anyone who listened to this one came face to face with a rather jaded Bruce.

A little backstory will help. For the 2004 election, Springsteen hopped on the campaign trail to help boost the prospects of Democratic nominee John Kerry. Springsteen felt everything had gone downhill since 9/11 - that we had earned the world's goodwill, only to squander it through aggressive military campaigns. All that healing, only to have all the wounds reopened. With that conviction heavy on his heart, he grabbed his guitar and tried to sing America into the voting booth. We all know how the election turned out, and Springsteen limped back to his home state of New Jersey in a fog of disappointment.

The songs Springsteen released on Magic flirted with hopelessness. The first track - "Radio Nowhere" - set the tone in its own ambiguous way. When I first heard it, it seemed like a seemingly harmless song about the downfall of FM rock (something I'm sure Springsteen has a strong opinion about). Then I listened to it again, and it sounded like biting political commentary. When Springsteen snarled, "Is there anybody alive out there?" it became clear to me that he was trying to wake his listeners up to something deep in his heart: that 2007 - with another election looming large - was going to be a time for somber reflection that he hoped would result in radical change.

The rest of the songs were just as searing as the first track, but Springsteen gets most blunt with the one-two punch of "Magic" and "Last to Die." The former is a devastating look at a con artist who masquerades as a magician, using sleight of hand to fool the audience into mindless submission. The latter is a bitter look at what Springsteen feels is a senseless, useless war. There is no doubt he was looking to land a knockout punch on Bush when he wrote this potent duo.

Magic was, and still is, one of the most breathtaking albums of doubt, anxiety, and even outright cynicism that I've ever heard. And once again, I actually think it did something you wouldn't expect a rock album to do: it pushed people toward rejecting what was for the hope of what could be. The Boss did it again: he captured everything in just one word: "magic." He was saying what more and more people were beginning to say: "Enough already. Let's get something - someone - we can believe in. Someone or something that rings true - not some sleight of hand number."

And once again, I found myself hoping believers would push aside petty feelings about Springsteen's politics to see that "knowing Bruce" was to know the times in a meaningful way. I hoped that regardless of where we land concerning the political aisle - right, left, or dead center - we could see that people had had enough. People were burnt out on "business as usual." Why do you think both campaigns - Obama's and McCain's - had to run on themes of change? And what did/does that mean for not only those in politics, but for those of us in ministry - again, regardless of how we felt about where Springsteen landed? A wave of stunning change was coming, and we needed to be ready for it. People didn't want magic in any way, shape, or form. They wanted something they could believe in. Springsteen captured that spirit masterfully, and it rattled me concerning my own ministry and interaction with others.

Working on a Dream
All of this finally brings us to 2009's Working on a Dream. I picked it up the day it came out (January 27), and I can say after a few listens that it's pretty clear to me that once again, the Boss has captured the times perfectly - not in one word, but in one potent phrase.

In a recent article in Time magazine, James Poniewozik, after having seen Springsteen perform at the inaugural show, made a fascinating observation about the journey of Springsteen's music since 9/11: "Bruce Springsteen kicked off the [inaugural] show with "The Rising," his 2002 anthem to the heroes of 9/11. The song evolved over the Bush years; it began as a eulogy, then was used as a campaign song by both John Kerry and Obama. Now it played as if America was looking back to the early days after 9/11 and asking for a do-over, to return to the moment before that communal spirit curdled into acrimony."

The idea of a national "do-over" is the very essence of Working on a Dream. It might very well be the essence of how America feels right now. You have to admit that most people are thinking: We've botched things. We'd like a chance to get it right. We're willing to work our knuckles to the bone to do it. Which sounds an awful lot like the lyrics to Springsteen's newest title track.

I'm well aware that at this point, you've got a thousand different politicized feelings about all of this. I do, too! I do! I would only ask that we both set them aside for just a moment and simply accept the fact that the Boss is right: people want to "work on a dream." They voted in light of that. Two million gathered in Washington in light of that. So, what can we do with that? If we are worried about it - and we probably should be to a certain degree - what can we do to redeem it?

I really want to leave this open-ended - which is quite hard for me to do, because my mind is spinning with ideas. I think there is a lot to uphold and a lot to contend with in this cultural text, this general ethos in the public square. Why wouldn't we want to tap into the dreaming state of the nation, offering a hand in partnership in the appropriate areas, while also offering a hand of correction where the dream is a little too American-centric and thus a lot less kingdom-centric? For example, the overall passion for working on the dream of reconciliation (racial, global, political) is as Christ-like as you can get. People are crying out for the fulfillment of Ephesians 1:10 without even possibly knowing it. Why would we turn away from that? On the other hand, a Christ-less reconciliation is reconciliation without a center. To borrow an overused metaphor: it's like rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic. And this is just one thought I'm pondering based on this new phrase the Boss has given me to turn over in my head - a phrase that, I believe, captures the spirit of the times like few other things I've seen or read or listened to. But I don't care to go further, because I'd like to hear from you. If the Boss is right - that people are ready to roll up their sleeves for a do-over, to "work on a dream" - what is our role in that as preachers? If you were to preach a series on kingdom dreams - even playfully calling it "Working on a Dream" - what would you do? What would you cover? What would you uphold? What would you contend? Let's talk.