Today I was reclined on a bench reading at the 16th Street Mall in Denver when I heard the unmistakable growl of a saxophone.  I followed the sound to a man about a half a block away who was playing for tips.  As I sat down to listen, I realized that I had company.  I was flanked by two gentlemen, an Asian man standing to my right and a homeless person rolling a cigarette sitting about ten feet to my left.

We listened and then we decided to make our contribution to the performance.  My new-found homeless friend shouted, "Herbie Hancock!"  And much to our pleasure the musician obliged.  We smiled at each other as we marveled at his skills.  I shouted, "Coltrane’s Alabama."  Once again, he treated us to the song of our choice.  And there we were, Black & Wite, Asian & Homeless…listening.  It was a joy.

It was quitting time, so the passerby’s were many and his instrument case was garnering tips as people tossed in changed mostly out of charity.  Then I noticed the obvious.  This guy didn’t need the money, he needed an audience.

He was dressed in Gap attire and most likely was a student at a local university.  He was practicing, more than that, he was trying to find his voice.

Jazz is about the individual and the group.  A jazz-shaped Christianity is about how we become within the confines and the safety of others.  As we practice the ancient ways, we do so in the presence of others and with their input spurring us on until we discover and/or happen upon our own voice.

I was glad to have played my role.