James Derkits

A couple of years before I had a banjo player for a roommate, I wrote a little warm-up song about the first person I ever saw playing banjo, or the first frog I ever saw playing banjo:  Sometimes I wish I was like  Kermit the frog;  sittin' in a swamp,  playing banjo on a log.   It was a warm-up song, in that I often played it while my friends were gathering, tuning up instruments, and/or choosing the next song. It was a very much a community song about wanting to be alone.  Kermit's got the greatest friends,  and I think I do, too.  But even he's got to slip away  for a minute or two. I forgot about that song for over ten years, then recently reconnected with one of my porch-music friends, and he reminded me of the song. He said he liked that "Kermit the Frog song." We were at a swim party with his family, and we were all going to see a concert in town later. Before I went to the concert, I slipped away to write down ...

A while back, a friend asked if I ever illustrated any of my songs. I thought it was a funny question and just said, "no," at the time. Jim knew that I like to sketch from time to time in my journal just to catch an image or idea. Later, I asked him why he asked the question. He said my songs are very visual to him, which I took as a high compliment. It prompted me to try to sketch an image of part of one of my songs, so I took the chorus from a song called "Goblin."  It goes, There's a ghost out on the water and a goblin in the rock if I don't go and see them they're gonna come and make me stop.  One winter night, some time ago, I went for a walk along the San Marcos river, and noticed  these little swirls all along the top of the water. The water was warmer than the air, so on the water's surface, these swirling clouds formed and danced in the wind as they moved to the shore and disappeared. It was beautiful. The song is about what...

I'm not much of a dancer, in a conventional sense. Given the option, I would rather play music and watch other people dance. I have had some close friends who can really move their bodies, with apparent ease, in such away that the space around them comes to life as they move either alone or in harmony with others. Of the few times I've been able to trick my ego into letting me be foolish and playful for a while, and actually try to dance, my favorite dances have been in community. I remember the joy of learning to Contra Dance when I was in my 20's. An old-time string band played simple, repetitious, traditional tunes as a caller directed us through the community dance; we laughed at ourselves when we tripped over one another, and we wore wide grins when we managed follow the instructions and keep rhythm.  At a recent retreat at the Mustang Island Conference Center, I taught a "Kenyan Halleluia" song during evening worship. Once everyone learned the simple song, I...

Next week, I will make my annual pilgrimage out to Camp Allen, near Navasota, TX for the 28th year. My first visit was in 1985, and my parents tell me the story that when they first took me to camp, after they got me registered, they tried to find me to say goodbye, but I was busy helping other campers unload  their cars and get moved into their cabins. I was hooked from the start. I learned about God at Camp Allen. I learned that God was bigger than I had ever imagined. Each year, it seems, I return and in some way, my understanding of God grows. Being in nature, being in community, playing, sharing, walking from place to place; it all teaches me again and again. It has shaped who I am as a Christian, and Episcopalian, and a priest. I go there to serve the church, to be there for a new generation of campers, but I get so much out of my time there. The staff in the above picture and the one below is exactly the same. Different people, but the same spirit. The campers are the s...

I'm grateful to Bill Murray for reminding me that ten years ago, on August first, our new class of seminarians all showed up to Virginia Theological Seminary to start a three year journey toward ordination. (Not the Caddy Shack Bill Murray , but The Reverend Bill Murray .) I don't know what comes to your mind when you think about heading off to seminary (either your memories or imaginations), but here's what's on the top of my mind. I met some amazing people who I got to know over those three years. We sat around during the day and drank too much coffee, we shared meals organized and impromptu. We challenged one another on our assumptions about church and God and what it means to be priests. We laughed together and played a lot of music sacred and profane: sometimes we played music in chapel, sometimes at a local church, and sometimes in a bar. We found a balance that worked for us then, and helped shaped how we would be priests in the church (with or without musica...

At breakfast, Eli wasn't sure he wanted to go back to school. We had left on vacation about two weeks before, and it was his first day back at school (and my first day back at work.) I reminded him that he woudl see all his friends, and could tell them about our adventures. As he worked on his bowl of Cheerios, I said, imitating Eli, "What I did on summer vacation, by Eli Derkits..." Then I started thinking about all that he would be able to report from this one! He received two (2) sets of wings from his first two plane rides to get us from Corpus to Houston to Greenville. We managed to ride the "choo-choo train" around the airport to make the two-hour-layover experience that much better. Our time in the mountains with my family included a lot of creek-play time: throwing rocks, stepping into the icy water, and hunting for salamanders.  We took hikes, urging Eli  to walk as long as he could before we loaded him into the backpack. Each night we played a little...

I remember a moment at summer camp when we were singing some familiar praise song in the evening. It was late in the week, so everyone knew the song by heart. I remember a break in the music when the musician said something about music being his favorite form of prayer. I thought I knew what he meant. I was only beginning to understand. My friend Dr. George Hassard likes to say "every hymn is a sermon." I agree with him, and I hope he gets something out of the sermons too, but I digress. I watched Gillian Welch the other night on Austin City Limits; seeing her come alive with each song reminded me, once again, of the joy of making music. I'm still learning how to pray in that regard. I'm still learning to open up and create music the way God has made me to create music. Somewhere between writing a song, learning to sing it, sharing it with others, and finally hearing it come to life; the Spirit is at work. Singing a favorite hymn or praise song connects us with ...