Patron Saint SuBo

There is a video clip on YouTube that I watch ever so often. At least once a month. It is a constant dose of energy and motivation and to top all of that, it has the makings of a wonderful story.

I’m talking about Susan Boyle’s first appearance on Britain’s Got Talent in 2009.

The rest, as they say, after that audition is history. There is the huge success of her CD’s (her debut album, I Dreamed a Dream, being the UK best-selling debut album of all time), her fame and performances with her own idols and heroes like Elaine Paige, her fortune. Type in Susan Boyle on Google and the list of results tell you that she is now indeed a member of the well-known on the international stage. The British press often refer to her as SuBo, their pet name for her.

I think her rags to riches story plays into what so many want their stories to be. It is exactly what those hundreds of thousands who queue for an audition in Idols, America’s got Talent, Britain’s got Talent, The X-factor, or any of those reality talent shows envisage or dream about. She has a professional appeal to all the artists who hope and try.

Her appeal in my particular case lies on a different level, or probably on more than one level.

In the first place, I’m no singer or performer with accompanying dreams. (Maybe that’s not absolutely true. After seeing The Intouchables last week with Matilda, I dream of dancing like Driss at that party. But I don’t want to do it as a performance. Oh, I would just love to be able to dance that way.) What provides me with an endless thrill watching the Britain’s got Talent video is the You-show-them-girl!-factor. Enters this middle aged lady with not exactly the build or features of a superstar with the heavy Scottish accent, intellectually a bit slow, dressed in her Sunday best that’s more suited for a church service than a reality show and with a dab of humour that borders on the awkward. Sitting in font of her are three experienced judges who have seen it all so many times that the element of surprise isn’t exactly part of their repertoire. Apparently the audience attended the same school as the one they did. With this wannebe standing before them you can almost hear their, “Aah, pleease....! Let’s get this over with.”

Then she sings. About her dream. And she totally bowls them. She floors them and has them on their feet simultaneously. All the while you’re cheering her on, laughing, punching the air with your fist. “What do you have to say now, hey?!  You, Simon, you....!” (As an interactive exercise you can fill in your own words.)

In all fairness to the judges, they admitted that they were prejudiced and absolutely surprised. They enthusiastically gave credit where credit was due. But I just love the way everything unfolded.  The mixture and timing were perfect. She showed them.

Oh, all right! Her appeal to me on this level is probably not very mature. But I maintain the right to indulge from time to time in the private enjoyment that I get from watching that audition of hers. “Rub their noses in it, Suzie! More, more...! Harder!”

However, she does have a message for me that runs deeper than my pettiness. And although there are elements of what I said in my immature slant on things in this message, it has a different spin to it. The element of surprise and the unexpected are still present, but the focus is now much more personal. It is no longer a matter of looking at her effect on other people. She confronts me with myself.

A very important aspect that we must not lose sight of is the fact that she was at the audition. There are a number of issues that she could have used as legitimate deterrents. People might not have taken her seriously. Didn’t they call her “Suzie Simple” in school? And indeed they didn’t take her seriously at first. She was way too old. How on earth are they going to market her? Who is going to relate to her? This wasn’t her first audition. She has done a number of them for other shows. Her talents were apparently appreciated by people close to her and within her community and local church where she sang in the choir, but obviously she didn’t have what it takes for the bigger stage. She could have thought about all of this and not give the audition a thought, let alone giving it a miss. But she was there and she sang. Ultimately she gave me the privilege to listen to her.

I admire her courage to dream and actively do something to let it happen. I admire her for being Susan Boyle.

To me she is SuBo, the patron saint of all those who need all the courage they can muster to be who they are.

As I said, I am no singer with higher aspirations. But what I do have that is absolutely unique - to such an extent that I’m also not sure whether it is marketable – is the fact that I am George. And I have to admit: I haven’t pitched for a number of auditions where I could have done what I do best – be who I truly am.

For that reason this old Jewish tale is one of my favourites:

On his travels Rabbi Sussja of Anipoli used to say this to his listeners: “If on my death God asks me why I haven’t been as great a leader as Moses, or as fiery a prophet as Elijah, or even as famous a teacher of the law as Rabbi Akiba, I won’t be afraid of my response. However, I will be deeply troubled about what to say, if God should ask me: ‘Sussja, why have you not become Sussja?’”

                                                                               

It is to be expected that we’ll have our doubts and times of fear on this journey of becoming ourselves. It can even be that we start off by not having the faintest idea of who we really are, let alone grow. We need wise midwives at the delicate births of identities. Fortunately this matter is apparently of such importance to the heavens that support is given from the most unexpected quarters.

During December last, Matilda posted a quote from the Talmud saying:

Every blade of grass has its Angel that bends over it and whispers, 

"Grow, grow."

I believe that angel comes in different shapes and sizes. Even in the form of a patron saint that sings.

George