"Come to life
I remember this
Just like paradise (And cyanide)
Take a bite
The taste of all your sin
You've lost your appetite (For sacrifice)"
These lyrics come to us from a brand-new song "Silos" by Starset. Before we begin our discussion, I must restrain the category for you lest you think I am discussing something that includes a broader category than my meaning. By rock music, I am not thinking about any song with electric guitar and not even [any with gravelly vocals]. I do mean music, which, in the delivery as well as lyrics, demonstrates some truth about the effects of sin and belief held by those broken by the pain of abuse, regret, and relational strife. By sad songs, I am actually expanding that category to include most of rap, pop, and hip-hop, because the sadness conveyed is not only whether the song is in a minor key but also demonstrative of that selfsame darkness invited in by sins, both our own and that of those we love. In either case, it is made plain that our longings for health, happiness, and holiness are brought to the surface the depths of our hearts, the problem/struggle is known and clarified by the song, and we are given a new opportunity to invite God into our hurts that He may change our life.
First, sad songs, including rock music as I defined it, reveal not only the struggle, but the absence of some good that ought to be there. If we look at the lyrics above, in the first line, we notice that something is dead—something not functioning as it ought to—because the divine command is, "Come to life." Then the tone shifts, seemingly speaking of paradise and memory, but in the background, there is a whisper of a deadly poison. The command to "take a bite" is clearly a temptation—but a temptation to what? What follows is the taste of all our sin, which is tempting in one respect. Yet in both the act of sinning and in our response to temptation, we find ourselves losing our appetite—both for life and for sin. Overcoming this loss requires sacrifice, but in our fallen state, we numb our senses to life, forget its goodness, and thus lose even our appetite for sacrifice. When the Catholic Church speaks frequently of sin, many—especially those unfamiliar with its true nature—may feel as though there is a morbid preoccupation with the topic. But the reality is that we are all sinners (cf. Romans 3:23), and we are bound to the dynamics of sin until we are purified through grace and conversion—a process that takes a lifetime or real and well-graced effort. Those who pretend sin is not part of their lives are often the least willing to hear the bad news. Yet without an honest statement of the problem, one cannot freely or adequately choose the solution. Ignoring sin does not make it cease to exist. While it is true that we should not fixate on sin—since our focus must be on Christ, who has conquered sin and death (cf. 1 Corinthians 15:55–57)—if we cannot even name the disease, how can we rejoice in the actual cure? Without a clear view of the enemy, we cannot rightly marvel at Christ's victory, and so our life remains disoriented, numbed, and asleep. We long for life but stumble over those very longings as we seek it because we, not infrequently, seek it wrongly, looking into places like success, pleasure, power, and/or wealth for a substitute salvation from something that we do not need salvation from rather than our One True Lover, who guides us through trials and joys to be increasingly healthier, happier, and holier.
Second, sad songs—whether demonstrating the stupidity of a "party" lifestyle, the soreness of wounds, or the good we long for but cannot have without God—are invitations to welcome in the Jesus we so often leave outside our darkness, if not outside our hearts and minds entirely. Our darkest parts are not dark because God doesn't want them or avoids them; they are dark because we cannot conceive that God wants those places most of all. We imagine that God wants us to simply "get over" our problems, that our malfunctions are signs of our unworthiness of life. So when we hear the good things He wants for us—the "call of life"—we give up and settle for second best. We are not insurrectionists against Christ so much as we are against our own health, happiness, and holiness. It is this paradox that traps us in despair. We end up believing against God, even if we never intended to. Sin is its own spiritual suicide and a self-fulfilling prophecy. That’s what makes sad songs momentarily true: they echo the absurdity of our choice to sin. However, our choice to sin (whether our own or that of our willful or unwitting enemies) is not the only thing that restrains us. It is also our brokenness—bodily, psychological, spiritual, relational—that feeds this negative feedback loop. Sad songs can help us accept that this is the case. For me, I have a stable sense of emotional homelessness. It consistently tempts me to seek communion in unhealthy ways—or, when tired or stressed, to at least numb it—rather than bringing it to the Lord. At the same time, those hurts indispose me to receiving the very things the Lord wants to give. However, one thing I know for sure: the surest way to not receive what the Lord wants to give is to give up and to numb. I must first recognize that this is my struggle. Then I must recognize that sin is not the answer. That is the implied message of every sad song. But if I do not process this truth, I only succeed in remaining sad and/or disoriented.
In conclusion, when you are sad and burdened, go to the Lord. Maybe listen to a sad song as you do so. Say to the Lord:
“Lord, this is where sin leads me. The sins of [person] have made me feel this way. This is a key moment of my struggle. This song—‘Silos’ by Starset, for example—reminds me that my salvation is in You alone, and that anything less than You will only worsen my condition. Maybe I am not strong enough to receive what I need from You right now to be well. But at least, Lord, I offer You my heart and invite You to sit with me in this reality, insofar as that is what You would have me do. Do not let me dwell too long here, but also help me truly accept the fact that the trials you entrust me with will bring not only struggle which is going to be the case but growth. Help me to see the reality I am in, lest I settle on some other ‘solution’ that will deepen my wound. Be with me, Lord. Here is what I find very true in this song right now…”
Then listen to the song at least once, or jump from song to song—whatever works—and continue telling the Lord what you find significant, how it corresponds to your experience, both present and past. Do this with everything you come across. You may well be given greater clarity about your experience and a new way of talking and thinking about it with God. Sometimes we need to just accept the obvious and realize that that is the
Also consider reading:
- Carter Carruthers, "The Source of All Sadness", Vivat Agnus Dei, January 24, 2021.
- Carter Carruthers, "Spiral of Sin", Vivat Agnus Dei, February 25, 2024.
