I’ve always had a strange relationship with gospel music. Being raised in a Jewish home, I simply felt uncomfortable with lyrics that celebrated Jesus Christ, his disciples, or their stories.

But I loved the sound of it. I loved to be surrounded by towering walls of human voices. Pure and spontaneous. Vibrating with life.

Have you ever seen a gospel choir? The singers might have well-trained voices and scores of music, but there is always room for spirit to express itself in a natural, unrehearsed way. They move when they sing because they’re moved. Their songs come from a very deep place.

I might have enjoyed the O’Jays or Ray Charles or R&B artists who developed their early musical chops in church, but Mavis Staples was the one who really helped me reconcile my passion for the gospel sound with my discomfort over songs based on bible stories or aphorisms.

I got to see her perform for the first time last week. Seventy-five years young and still busy touring, I joined a multi-generational crowd at a veritable love-fest at a mid-sized auditorium just outside of Chicago. It was nice to see that her collaborations with contemporary artists like Jeff Tweedy still makes her relevant to new music lovers.

Funny, professional, humble, and appreciative, she exuded joy at being able to perform. Her voice, she understood, is a gift and a privilege; pitch perfect, full of raw vigor and heart.

She brought her sister Yvonne, who no longer performs, on the stage for a few moments. It was as if she wanted to share the stage with her, as if she wanted to share a little of the adoration.

She told the story of why she moaned when she sang, probably for the thousandth time, and it still sounded inspired by the moment and drew a laugh. She led the audience in cheering on members of her band after each one showcased their individual talent on their instruments. She was completely generous.

She obliged the audience’s yen to hear classics like Respect Yourself and I’ll Take You There, and she did an amazing cover of the Talking Heads Song, Slippery People. It was hard to believe the song was not original to her.

The way she sang, it embodied everything I loved about gospel music without the affectations that often made me uncomfortable. Unlike David Byrne’s version, it was not only clever, it was felt. “Turn like a wheel (He’s alright). I see his face (The Lord won’t mind). Don’t know no games (He’s alright). Love from the bottom to the top…”

I think my favorite song was one I don’t recall having heard before although it was on a recent album. It was a new song, a perfect example how anyone at any time in her life can come up with something new. It really spoke to me.

“I looked in the mirror. What did I see? A brand new image of the same old me. Ohhhh. But now I wonder why I should be surprised…I like the things about me that I once despised….”

I looked up the dictionary definition of gospel. Of course, there are entries related to the life of Jesus Christ and bible stories. “Gospel” is also defined as being something that’s true.

In an interview given during the seventies, on the TV show Soul Train, Pop Staples, Mavis’s father and bandleader for years, explained that gospel music was about “love, peace and freedom.”

Capturing those qualities in a voice itself, something beyond lyrics to a song, is no small thing.

Photo from North Shore Center for performing Arts website