For the last several days I have been in an especially reflective state. On Sept. 17 a very good friend was killed in an auto accident. In my career as a minister, I have cared for many hundreds of funerals, memorials and life celebrations. There is no joy in this special responsibility of a parish minister. Never-the-less every one of these occasions has been a privilege. My life is richer because of the experiences.

When I heard of my friend’s death, I turned to my wife and commented, “I hope I do not get the call.” I received the call. I had worked closely with my friend in my role as a board member of the Palmer Arts Council. He was an artist. Alaska has many very fine artists, but he was one of the elite. My friend was a very bright, informed, compassionate person. His art work was full of life and reflected the richness of his sensitivities. He was 50 years of age. I was convinced that his best work was ahead.

When I met with my friend’s family, I listened. I learned a lot. I did not know that he was a very fine jazz pianist. His brother, a percussionist, recalled the special times when he and his brother played music together. During my time with the family, I took a lot of notes. I heard many descriptive comments and memorable quotes. The one that stuck most firmly in my mind is a question that my friend had asked. “Why does music do what it does?” The decision was made that music would set the stage for the celebration of his life.

For the gathering, a group of his jazz friends furnished the musical setting. A six-piece band played and sang before the formal program; in the middle of the program they played a musical interlude. With the closing words of the program, jazz again filled the gathering place. As they played, my toes tapped, my feet wanted to move, my hands wanted to clap, my body swayed and my spirit soared.

Why does music do what it does? 

My friend’s question about music is a part of a rainbow of questions that take us into the very heart of life. Why does art do what it does? Why does mythology do what it does? Why does poetry do what it does? Why does architecture do what it does? Why does dance do what it does? Why does oratory do what it does?

Music was an avocation for my friend. Art was his vocation, his calling. The celebration of his life was held in a school multipurpose room. The gathering featured a collection of his art work. A local art gallery had tastefully built displays of his work. Even as music filled the room, so also did his art work. The crowd lingered long. Their eyes feasted on his original paintings. I watched and asked, “Why does art do what it does?”

He and I had been working on a particular project. My part of the project was minor. I was to find funding for an ambitious project. He was the creative genius. He was the artist. He had become fascinated by the Myth of Prometheus.

Prometheus is a character out of Greek mythology. He was a Titan, half God and half man. Prometheus was less than the all powerful Zeus, but was far above mere man. The symbol of the power of Zeus was fire. Zeus controlled fire. Through deception, Prometheus stole fire from Zeus and gave it to humankind. A vengeful Zeus retaliated by having Prometheus shackled to a ledge high in the Caucasus Mountains. Zeus’s eagle came every day and pecked at the liver of Prometheus. Prometheus would heal every day only to have the eagle return at the break of dawn to continue the torment.

The story is a relentless witness to what happens when power is challenged.

The Prometheus story is complex and introduces other notable characters such as Hercules, Pandora and Aphrodite, but my friend had special interest in Prometheus taking fire from Zeus and sharing it with common people. My friend saw an application of the myth of Prometheus in today’s struggles over energy. He saw large oil companies sitting in the position of power. Their power, he believed, must be challenged and the power must be put in hands that will ensure the best interests of all human beings. He understood that the challenge of power would mean chaos and pain.

My artist friend proposed painting a series of five large canvases. Each would depict an interplay between the ancient myth and the modern struggle over the control of energy. Each canvas would carry a plaque of original poetry and the display would be accompanied by appropriate music.

This ambitious work would never have a buyer. We talked about how to take the completed work on the road. High schools? Museums? Colleges and universities? I could see it permanently placed in an art museum. My friend was a social and political activist with only a paint brush in his hand.

Why does art do what it does?

My friend’s Prometheus project will never be completed, but the work of artists, musicians, storytellers, architects, poets and dancers will continue to challenge the life we live together.

The Rev. Howard Bess is a retired American Baptist minister who lives in Palmer. His email address is hdbss@mtaonlline.net.