When God created the heavens and earth, he also created an extensive lexicon to help man describe his earthly experiences. As my co-workers can attest, I am rarely one to be wanting for these words. Among my favorites are those reserved for particularly good experiences — the cataclysmics, euphorics and orgasmics of the world.

However, when I attended the Bruce Springsteen concert in Milwaukee two weeks ago, I was rendered utterly speechless after having my entire being eviscerated in a cathartic experience of rock ‘n’ roll perfection. While still trying to articulate my experience, I watched Jon Stewart interview Clarence Clemons describe attending a Springsteen concert as “the closest I’ll ever go to going to church.”

Not only did I think “Yes! A perfect description!” but also “Yes! A perfect excuse to write a cheesy paean to the Boss!”

To wit, organized religion could better shepherd its members’ spiritual development if it eschewed the Gregorian chants for a ride down Thunder Road. From the music visionary himself to the canon of soul-searing tunes to the epic three-hour live shows, the Boss has cultivated a Springsteen trinity that creates a transcendent experience capable of satisfying the hungriest of spiritual hearts.

One part of the Springsteen trinity is the indestructible force of nature himself. Springsteen plays the role of prophet during this time of trouble in the heartland of rock ‘n’ roll. After the mid-1980s success of Born in the U.S.A., a series of bad albums left the Boss wandering the desert of has-been rockers. However, just as Moses heard his calling from the burning bush and humbly accepted its challenge, so too did Springsteen respond when called to help his people.

After the tragedy of Sept. 11, the people of the New York region desperately sought someone to use music to capture their collective suffering. The first and only person they sought was Springsteen, who reunited the famed E Street Band to record the album The Rising, which he dedicated to the Sept. 11 victims. Not only did the world get a hellagood album, but it also learned good things come from heeding the call of others.

While the Boss’ story of humility and redemption is compelling, even more compelling are the gut-wrenching tales of hope in the face of despair contained in the extensive Gospel According to Bruce. One of God’s messages to humanity is that hope and faith can ultimately overcome all obstacles, and nowhere is this more evident than in Springsteen’s songs. Church services can tend toward a lovey-dovey or fire-and-brimstone tenor, while songs such as “Backstreets” and the newer “Long Walk Home” cover the gray areas in between with realistic stories people can relate to.

The Boss has also been blessed with the God-given ability to tersely capture the essence of the human condition. Songs such as “The River” — “Is a dream a lie if it don’t come true/ Or is it something worse?” — and “Thunder Road” — “It’s a town full of losers, I’m pulling out of here to win” — contain bits of spiritual philosophy that come alive through the artist’s haunting growl. And frankly, what churchgoer would not be riveted by every word of a reading from “The Promised Land” in the Book of the Darkness on the Edge of Town?

The third part of the Springsteen trinity is obviously his heart-stopping, booty-quaking live concerts. I was raised Catholic, so the cathartic experience of God was not part of my religious tradition. However, after experiencing the epic and transcendent show the E Street Band played at the Bradley Center, I now know what a cathartic spiritual experience feels like, and I understand why it plays such an important role in much of Christian theology.

Amid the rock euphoria, the Boss also plays the role of preacher by teaching the audience important life lessons. One lesson is Bruce Springsteen never ever ever mails in a performance. Ever. For three hours a night his mission is to bring joy and happiness to his audience, and he never fails to give everything he has to every single song.

A second life lesson is ,though he is the Boss, Springsteen unselfishly shares the stage with the members of the E Street Band. Whether he’s pulling Stevie Van Zandt over to do his share-the-mike-thing or standing back while the Big Man blasts out the three-plus-minute sax solo on “Jungleland,” the Boss shows his audience letting others shine creates a brilliant reflection.

Stewart nailed it when he said attending a Springsteen show is like going to church. The Springsteen trinity provides the transcendent spiritual experience that church is designed to foster, and it even includes the bonus of a Big Man sax solo in place of the lame homily.

Zachary Schuster ([email protected]) is a graduate student studying water resources engineering and water resource management. He readily acknowledges this column is at least as cheesy as “Lucky Town” or “Tunnel of Love.”