Note: If you wish to receive, via e-mail, (1) my weekly newsletter or (2) daily copies of these posts, notify me at [email protected] and indicate which you would like. I promise not to share your e-mail address with anyone. To unsubscribe, send me a follow-up email.
Sunday
As today’s Gospel reading is the account of Jesus walking on the water and as I recently watched the Netflix documentary on Leonard Cohen, I devote today’s post to “Suzanne,” which mentions the Biblical episode. The documentary, because it was focused on “Hallelujah,” didn’t have much to say about “Suzanne,” but it taught me a lot about Cohen’s intense spiritual searching.
Although Jewish, Cohen at one point spent five years in a Buddhist monastery. When he left, he discovered the experience had strengthened his Jewish identity, although stories from the Hebrew Bible had always appeared in his songs. He has also identified at times with the Jewish prophet Jesus.
“Suzanne” opens with his Platonic relationship with Suzanne. The night spent beside her, apparently, involves watching the boats go by:
Suzanne takes you down to her place near the river
You can hear the boats go by, you can spend the night beside her
And you know that she’s half-crazy but that’s why you want to be there
And she feeds you tea and oranges that come all the way from China
And just when you mean to tell her that you have no love to give her
Then she gets you on her wavelength
And she lets the river answer that you’ve always been her loverAnd you want to travel with her, and you want to travel blind
And then you know that she will trust you
For you’ve touched her perfect body with your mind
Suzanne is not only physically beautiful but beautiful as a person, and her presence has pulled the speaker away from the emptiness of consumer/ materialist society. The relationship is also spiritual rather than sexual, which is why I suppose he assures her that she can trust him. Adopting her perspective, he comes to see simple things like tea and oranges in a new light—they are exotic, not commonplace.
At this point in his life, the poet feels himself incapable of love—“you have no love to give her”—but Suzanne communicates, through the sound of the river they are watching together, that he has this capacity for love after all. The “her” in “her lover” could be either Suzanne or the river or, best of all, both. He can connect with this spiritual current that runs through the universe if he abandons the urge to possess and control. The only way to travel is to abandon preconceptions and travel blind.
Unfortunately, the connection fades. The next section of the poem has him retreating once more into himself and his weariness. To capture the spiritual fatigue, he thinks of Jesus, whom he imagines as similarly weary. Before examining what he is up to, let’s review Biblical passage (Matthew 14:22-33) since Cohen follows it somewhat closely:
Jesus made the disciples get into the boat and go on ahead to the other side, while he dismissed the crowds. And after he had dismissed the crowds, he went up the mountain by himself to pray. When evening came, he was there alone, but by this time the boat, battered by the waves, was far from the land, for the wind was against them. And early in the morning he came walking toward them on the sea. But when the disciples saw him walking on the sea, they were terrified, saying, “It is a ghost!” And they cried out in fear. But immediately Jesus spoke to them and said, “Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid.”
Peter answered him, “Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water.” He said, “Come.” So Peter got out of the boat, started walking on the water, and came toward Jesus. But when he noticed the strong wind, he became frightened, and beginning to sink, he cried out, “Lord, save me!” Jesus immediately reached out his hand and caught him, saying to him, “You of little faith, why did you doubt?” When they got into the boat, the wind ceased. And those in the boat worshiped him, saying, “Truly you are the Son of God.”
For Cohen, a worn-out Jesus has retreated, not to the mountain, but to his “lonely wooden tower,” a symbol of the self. His message of love is not getting through and he becomes discouraged.
People, however, do pay attention to that message when they are dying—when Peter is sinking—so Jesus gifts the world with his death. But before the resurrection sky opens, there is the crucifixion, and Jesus appears broken. The disciples forsake him and one can think of the moments before the crucifixion where he appears “almost human”–for instance, when he asks God to “take this cup from me” at Gethsemane and his cry from the cross, “Why have you forsaken me?”
And Jesus was a sailor
When He walked upon the water
And He spent a long time watching
From His lonely wooden towerAnd when He knew for certain
Only drowning men could see Him
He said, “All men will be sailors then
Until the sea shall free them”
But He Himself was broken
Long before the sky would open
Forsaken, almost human
He sank beneath your wisdom like a stone
And you want to travel with Him
And you want to travel blind
And you think maybe you’ll trust Him
For He’s touched your perfect body with his mind
I’m reading “wisdom” here as matter-of-fact conventional wisdom, which can’t see beyond the material. But because Jesus has touched “your perfect body”—He sees the beauty in us more than we see it in ourselves—we think maybe we’ll trust Him. (I love the tentativeness of “you think maybe.”) If the speaker surrenders to Him–if he travels blind–he will be restored.
Having seen the significance of his encounter with Suzanne spelled out in religious terms, we return to Suzanne, a Madonna of the harbor clothed in Salvation Army rags and feathers. Under her tutelage—like the disciplines under Jesus—the speaker finds those people who have been rejected and forgotten. These “children of the morning” are “leaning out of love/And they will lean that way forever,” and Cohen recognizes himself in them (“While Suzanne holds the mirror”).
Whereas earlier Cohen assured Suzanne that she could trust him, now he knows that he can trust her and her spiritual mind. He has new confidence that he will touch base with the divine. Here’s how the song ends:
Now, Suzanne takes your hand
And she leads you to the river
She is wearing rags and feathers
From the Salvation Army countersAnd the sun pours down like honey
On our lady of the harbor
And she shows you where to look
Among the garbage and the flowersThere are heroes in the seaweed
There are children in the morning
They are leaning out for love
And they will lean that way forever
While Suzanne holds the mirror
And you want to travel with her
And you want to travel blind
And you know that you can trust her
For she’s touched your perfect body with her mindWe all have it within us to embark on such a journey.