Savas of Pittsburgh: Reflecting on the Great American Bard

My guest today has the title of His Eminence, Savas, Metropolitan of Pittsburgh. He is indeed the bishop of that city and diocese, in the Greek Orthodox Archdiocese of America. If I get to call him “Sav,” it’s only because I’ve known him for thirty years now – we met in Oxford where we were both studying theology, both attending the same church, watching movies together, listening to music, and where he introduced me to my future wife, and became bound to me as “koumbaros” – or best-man. And I have cherished our friendship ever since.

Metropolitan Savas studied English at Colby College in Maine, theology at Holy Cross seminary in Boston and then at Pembroke College, Oxford – where we met. He has been a much-admired leader in the Church – deacon, priest, bishop, for ten years he was chancellor of the Greek Archdiocese, and then became Metropolitan of Pittsburgh.

Why is he talking with us today about sacred arts? Because he’s one of the most culturally literate and curious people I’ve ever known – his interests span high and popular cultures. He has particular love – even obsession – with, well, Shakespeare, the Beatles, Bob Dylan, Richard Thompson, with many others — currently he’s obsessed with the culture of ancient Rome… But today, in honor of Bob Dylan’s 80th year, we dig deep into the oeuvre of that great poet/bard.

Here’s a bonus feature: H.E., and me and my daughter Elizabeth, performing a Dylan tune just for you.

Every Grain of Sand — Bob Dylan

In the time of my confession,
in the hour of my deepest need
When the pool of tears beneath my feet
flood every newborn seed

There's a dying voice within me
reaching out somewhere
Toiling in the danger
and in the morals of despair

Don't have the inclination
to look back on any mistake
Like Cain, I now behold this chain
of events that I must break

In the fury of the moment
I can see the master's hand
In every leaf that trembles,
in every grain of sand

Oh, the flowers of indulgence
and the weeds of yesteryear
Like criminals, they have choked the breath
of conscience and good cheer

The sun beat down upon the steps
of time to light the way
To ease the pain of idleness
and the memory of decay

I gaze into the doorway
of temptation's angry flame
And every time I pass that way
I always hear my name

Then onward in my journey
I come to understand
That every hair is numbered
like every grain of sand

I have gone from rags to riches
in the sorrow of the night
In the violence of a summer's dream,
in the chill of a wintry light

In the bitter dance of loneliness
fading into space
In the broken mirror of innocence
on each forgotten face

I hear the ancient footsteps
like the motion of the sea
Sometimes I turn, there's someone there,
other times it's only me

I am hanging in the balance
of a finished plan
Like every sparrow falling,
like every grain of sand

And here’s a take on the Nick Lowe standard, “(What’s So Funny ‘Bout) Peace Love and Understanding?”