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Soul Music
by David Beers
Welcome to St. John's African Orthodox Church of the West, a tiny San Francisco congregation that hears a special calling-the calling of "Trane's" saxophone. Their St. John is John Coltrane. John "the Sound Baptist," they call him. John Coltrane, the jazz giant who left behind heroin and the sins of a be-bop way of life in 1957 to dedicate his existence-and records-to God. John Coltrane, whose rhapsodic, ebbing, flowing, murmuring, squawking composition "A Love Supreme" has become, 21 years after his death, this church's anthem.
The record plays each Sunday at 11:45 a.m., signaling the start of service in the house of worship that is literally a house. Perhaps 50 people will show up at 351 Divisadero, stereo-produced Coltrane riffs, until Father James Haven emerges, golden horn in hand, and plays those riffs live. The reverend blows every incantation in St. John Coltrane's musical prayer, repeating it perfectly, handing it down to his flock. It fills the room, and it builds. Everyone gets an instrument-tambourines and bongo drums go to those not blessed with musicianship. Everyone recites, to the melody of Coltrane's "Acknowledgment," the words of Psalm 23; "The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want..." Finally, the culmination: A chorus of sisters sing Coltrane's chant: "A love supreme, a love supreme, a love supreme..." And now the service, a Christian liturgy with some prayers drawn from Coltrane record liner notes, is ready to begin.
St. John's feeds 150 or so people after every Sunday service. Its sisters visit the sick. Its young reggae band has played to enthusiastic reviews-in Chico even. The church relies on donated food and money collected from an airport booth. On Tuesday afternoons, it sends forth Coltrane's music via radio station KPOO (89.5). "We share his wisdom, and give everyone a good ear cleaning," explains Sister Williams, president of St. John's.
The idea for the church began in 1967, when Franzo King, himself a hot sax player, was spiritually moved by a live Coltrane performance. King founded his One Mind Temple in 1972: last year he linked it with the International African Orthodox Church; changed its name to St. John's and then moved to Chicago to take up a new ministry. But Bishop King returns regularly to play and pray.
In 1981 Coltrane's widow Alice brought an unsuccessful suit against the church, saying, "In his own way, John was religious, but he never proclaimed himself to be a minister. Why can't they just retain the memory of him, cherish that in their hearts and not desecrate his name?"
The believers of St. John's say they only want to glorify the name of John Coltrane, a man they consider a true saint in every sense. Sister Williams recounts "miracles." She and others have been healed by his music; she says. And she tells of a fire that burned a church member's wall-sparing only a picture of Coltrane.
"John was praying for the good of mankind when he was playing his compositions," says Sister Williams. "When we play his music, those vibrations going out into the world are not lost; they remain in the air, in the walls. We pray they will be a cleaning force, a healing force. That's our job." |
