The thirst for innocence was a son crying out the name of his mother, Iris, with a longing to be held and a desire to bear her memory. It was a teenager racing by his childhood home on Cedarwood Road, running alongside the drama of life as it unfolded in front of him. It was a young man gratefully remembering his true love whose gaze pierced his heart like a light in the darkness. These were the nostalgic sounds and images that rock band U2 and frontman Bono used to invite 20,000 strangers in Chicago’s sold-out United Center to rediscover their own experience of innocence. The stage was lit by a single lightbulb harkening back to Bono’s childhood bedroom, where he first started to make music—a simple yet meaningful place. In the song lyrics themselves, as well as the visuals, which incorporated scenes from Bono’s childhood, clips and photos of his parents, and the early days of the band, Bono sent us back to the origins of that “punk band from the northside of Dublin.” The new album recalls their punk rock roots, playing in bars as teenagers, and that is evident in the sound, as well as the content of the lyrics. Bono noted, “It’s very raw and we very much stand naked in front of you...metaphorically of course.”

The band’s current “Innocence + Experience” world tour introduces its latest album, Songs of Innocence, while weaving these new songs with three decades’ worth of anthems for which U2 has become a household name. Songs of Innocence harkens back to Bono’s childhood and the band’s earliest days, troubled as they were, with heart-wrenching realism and an underlying desire not to let those days go. The album’s cover offers a hint of what the tour seeks to portray: a middle-aged man—drummer Larry—clings to a younger teenaged boy, his son, though perhaps a younger version of himself.

But why is it so important to go back to that time? Perhaps the live premiere of “The Crystal Ballroom” (a bonus track on the band’s latest album, and named for a nightclub in which the band performed in its early days) sheds light on the answer. The song is based on personal encounters that seemed randomly insignificant when they occurred, but grew in meaning and profundity as life unfolded. The interesting thing about “The Crystal Ballroom” is how it became the venue for all these converging events. Perhaps this mysterious place of memory is what U2 was trying to replicate in the United Center, offering us the opportunity to look back at our own “Crystal Ballrooms” in wonder and to look forward in hope.

From this sense of expectation, we were taken into the darkness where the flourishing of the person is overshadowed by the pain of violence and hatred. Yet, dark as the set list becomes with “Sunday Bloody Sunday” (including Larry’s militaristic snare drum and the startling re-enactment of a car bombing) and “Raised by Wolves,” it ends with empowerment, hope and love. For as much as Bono tends to just barely miss the mark in his observations and judgement of the world around him, it is interesting that the concert ended with “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For.” What can truly answer to our great desire for peace and justice? Is it America? (As Bono said, “America is not a nation, it is an idea. Don’t forget that.”) Is it a personal or collective effort? Philanthropy? “People Have the Power” opened and closed the concert, with a brief reflection on Bono’s ONE campaign during the encore. But there is a bit of a gap between the past pain (“The Troubles” and “Bloody Sunday”) and our current struggles to achieve a peaceful world by our own effort.

The gap is the fact that we have not done so! The transition from “Bullet the Blue Sky” to “Pride,” segued by “The Hands that Built America,” into “Beautiful Day” reminds us that we need to call upon a present Beauty that transcends our own sin and brokenness.

Great music brings people together who might otherwise have little in common. This sense of communion was especially evident in front of U2 because their songs hit themes that are so deep, personal and not discussed in everyday conversation. Everyone singing along in that stadium seemed to attach themselves to the band, to what the band meant to them. Although we recognize these are just songs, they evidently convey some sort of recognition of truth for them to be so powerful to so many, a truth that transcends most music.

What makes them so powerful for us, though, is the memory associated with them, particularly singing them together in our friendship. And from our time together at this concert comes a new awe of the “Original Experience” from which our friendship is born: as Bono sang “Every Breaking Wave” complemented by The Edge’s graceful piano sound, we were reminded of our need for accompaniment. For, without each other, without a Presence, we are “helpless against the tide.”

As moving as the experience was, we wanted more. We realized the songs did not completely answer our need for beauty and meaning. We left the concert full of the desire: the desire to better understand the significance of the place of innocence. But more importantly, as trite as it sounds, to find what we are looking for.