I’ve watched U2’s new video, The Greatest Show on Earth, several times now, along with a live performance. Each time, the tears come. It’s not really crying. Something in the music reaches me emotionally, and I still can’t explain what it is. I’ve even awakened with the song playing in my head.
For years, I’ve used films to explore the emotional patterns beneath our beliefs and behavior. This time, it’s a piece of music that keeps bringing me back to something I haven’t quite figured out.
The video, directed by Anton Corbijn, has stayed with me just as much as the music.
The Women Carrying the Weight
Bono and the band are at the center of an elaborate religious spectacle. Meanwhile, women dressed in white make their way through a barren landscape, carrying objects that seem to represent our institutions, beliefs, and attempts to protect ourselves. There’s a cross, stained glass, an umbrella, and even something resembling a spacesuit.
The women begin their journey looking hopeful. But their clothing becomes dirty and worn as they struggle under the weight of what they’re carrying. And all the while, Bono remains at the center of the show.
I don’t pretend to know everything Corbijn intended. But I can’t look away from those women.
The video shows how much people are asked to carry in love’s name.
And how often that burden falls on women. As a man watching this, I find myself wondering how much I’ve come to accept those burdens as simply the way things are.
U2 describes the song as being about lovers fighting to keep faith in one another, and in faith itself. There’s longing in the music, but also disappointment. The difficulty of understanding what love actually is.
We want to love and be loved. We want to feel safe. We want to believe that the people and institutions we’ve placed our trust in won’t disappoint us. And for many of us, God represents the greatest promise of all.
Over generations, we’ve developed rules and constructs around marriage, family, religion, and government. They shape how we’re supposed to live, whom we’re supposed to love, and what it takes to belong.
Some have helped us care for one another. Others have become burdens we hardly recognize anymore.
And sometimes we’re so busy carrying those expectations that we forget to ask whether they’re still serving us.
When God Doesn’t Protect Us
Recently, I watched Billy Crystal being interviewed on CBS Sunday Morning. His family home of 46 years was destroyed in the California wildfires, and his dear friend Rob Reiner was killed.
When Tracy Smith asked whether he still talks to God, Crystal said no. He doesn’t trust Him anymore.
I appreciated his honesty. His response reminded me of something I’ve often wondered when someone survives a tragedy and says, “God saved me.”
I’m grateful they survived. But what about the person next door who didn’t? Why wasn’t that person saved?
We carry expectations of God, too. For some, the belief that God will protect us is central to their faith. When tragedy comes anyway, we’re left carrying the disappointment along with the loss.
I don’t know what Crystal believed about God before these terrible experiences, and I don’t have an answer for him now.
But there’s something else about him that I find remarkable. He’s returned to Broadway with 860, a show about the home he lost, filled with family memories, humor, and laughter.
He can question God and still find something worth laughing about.
Grounded Hope and Defiant Joy
I’ve been thinking about two ways of approaching life when things aren’t turning out as we expected.
Grounded hope says:
I see what’s happening. I recognize the difficulties, and I don’t know how this will turn out. But possibilities remain.
Defiant joy says:
And while we’re figuring it out, I’m not surrendering my capacity to enjoy being alive.
Maybe defiant joy is simply refusing to let whatever is troubling us occupy every available moment of our lives.
That understanding feels especially relevant lately. There’s a great deal happening in the world, and in the lives of people I care about. I sometimes spend more time trying to make sense of what’s happening than enjoying what’s right in front of me.
But something happened on Halloween that brought this home.
More than 600 children came to our door in the most amazing costumes. I found myself letting go and taking in their joy. Then we sort of crashed our neighbors’ party, a big Indian family gathering filled with games, laughing, and yelling.
I kept shouting, “This is like a beautiful opera!” And I meant it. So many wonderful voices together making music. Before long, I was laughing and yelling right along with them. The joy had snuck in when I wasn’t expecting it.
By the end of the night, I was exhausted and may have been overserved. My neighbor has excellent taste in wine. So I went to bed early.
Later, my daughter and her boyfriend showed up with French fries for me. I was too tired to get out of bed, so I ate them lying down. I’d never done that before. It was wonderful.
Nothing about that night solved anything. But for a few hours, I wasn’t carrying anything at all.
I keep coming back to U2’s song. I hear longing and disappointment, but also compassion for how difficult it is to be human. We work so hard to love, believe, protect one another, and hold everything together.
And somehow, even with all that sadness, the music is extraordinarily beautiful.
I still don’t fully understand why it brings tears to my eyes. Maybe I don’t need to.
Watch the video all the way through. Don’t worry about figuring out what every image means. Just notice what moves you, and pay attention to who’s carrying the weight. Then consider whether someone in your own life might be carrying more than you’ve realized.
About David
David Barnes is the co-creator of the Alignment Movie Process (AMP), a framework that uses film to help people recognize the emotional beliefs and patterns shaping their lives. His work explores emotional maturity, human sovereignty, AI, and how we might build systems that serve human life rather than simply becoming more powerful.
He writes about the patterns beneath our individual and collective choices, and what becomes possible when we move beyond reactivity toward greater awareness, responsibility and integrated wisdom.
To learn more about the Alignment Movie Process and explore how it works, visit AMP EXP.