Godspell vs. Jesus Christ Superstar

We were doing an exercise after church on Sunday--we compared the Garden of Gethsemane stories in each Gospel (of course, in some Gospels, they don't even go to that garden). And our pastor mentioned Godspell and Jesus Christ Superstar in the context of each musical being based on a different Gospel.

That made me think of my youth, where our church in Montgomery, Alabama took a group to Atlanta to see Godspell. I was in second grade, and to this day, I remember the dress I wore. I remember my mom saying, "Now this may seem strange at first. Jesus is a clown. They're all clowns."

I thought it was wonderful. I spent the rest of my youth wondering why church couldn't be full of energy and passion, like Godspell was. I learned the soundtrack inside out. To this day, I can still sing the full soundtrack, even without the CD, which rides around with me in the car. It's my favorite Bible-based music. It has done for me what hymns did for earlier generations--it's an easy way to memorize scripture.

Later, I saw the movie version of Jesus Christ Superstar. I was sorely disappointed. I expected a Godspell but got a strange production with tanks and modernism. I was young and didn't approve of injecting 20th century images into the story. Oddly, I didn't have a similar experience when I viewed the movie version of Godspell.

A friend of mine says that they used to classify people based on whether they preferred one show or the other. Unfortunately, she can't remember what the distinction meant.

It seems destined to be one of those quizzes we could all take. Well, it would be, if anyone else was as interested as I am.

In Praise of Henri Nouwen

I've been enjoying Show Me the Way: Readings for Each Day of Lent. It's a devotional book that takes passages from Henri Nouwen's work and weaves them together.

Nouwen is one of the first theologians I really loved. And I have a special fondness for him, because he's one of the few subjects upon which my father and my adolescent self agreed. In 1985, my dad came with me to a Sojourners event because Nouwen was speaking.

For the life of me, I can't remember what Nouwen said that day. Neither can my dad. But we remember it as a bonding event.

I've gone on to read a lot of Nouwen. He wrote a lot, so I'm sure I've missed some books. I always loved reading his journals, and I return to them periodically. I'm heartened by the glimpse that these journals provide, this proof that even people who seem to have it all pulled together have issues too. Nouwen wrestled with wondering if he was using his talents and gifts in the ways God intended, in the ways that would glorify God best. Nouwen wrestled with not feeling loved by his friends, even as he knew that they loved him, but they might not be able to give him what he needed.

That human side is so important to me. I wrestle with similar issues, and I feel irritated with myself for not figuring this stuff out already. It's good to know that maybe I'm expecting too much of myself.

And how amazing that Nouwen can write passages such as these, even as he's working out his life and issues:

"God does not require a pure heart before embracing us. Even if we return only because following our desires has failed to bring happiness, God will take us back. Even if we return because being a Christian brings us more peace than being a pagan, God will receive us. Even if we return because our sins did not offer as much satisfaction as we had hoped, God will take us back. Even if we return because we could not make it on our own, God will receive us. God's love does not require any explanations about why we are returning. god is glad to see us home and wants to give us all we desire, just for being home."

This passage is from the readings for the Saturday of the Second Week in Lent (pages 58-59) in Show Me the Way (Crossroad Publishing Company 1992). The passage originally appeared in The Road to Daybreak published in 1988 by Doubleday.

The passage below gave me enormous comfort and hope at the end of this past tough week at work:

"For a Christian is only a Christian when he unceasingly asks critical questions of the society in which he lives and continuously stresses the necessity for conversion, not only of the individual but also of the world. A Christian is only a Christian when he refuses to allow himself or anyone else to settle into a comfortable rest. He remains dissatisfied with the status quo. And he believes that he has an essential role to play in the realization of the new world to come--even if he cannot say how that world will come about. . . . But he will not despair when he does not see the result he wanted to see. For in the midst of all his work he keeps hearing the words of the One sitting on the throne: 'I am making the whole of creation new.' (Revelations 21:5)"

The above passage is from Friday of the Second Week in Lent (page 56) in Show Me the Way (Crossroad Publishing Company 1992). The passage originally appeared in Creative Ministry, published in 1971 by Doubleday.

Where Does Our Wealth Go?

The other day, as I read yet another report about how much wealth Americans have lost, and as I opened my statement from a retirement mutual fund (sigh), I thought, I wish I had just given my money away to the poor.

Of course, if stocks had kept soaring, I might not have ever had that thought.

But it did give me pause.

Now, I haven't had lots of financial wealth. I'm a teacher, after all. One of the joys of not earning scads of money is that one doesn't lose scads of money. And I'm lucky, in that I've almost always earned enough to pay for my needs as well as a small luxury here and there.

And I've always tried to share what I have. I wish I could tithe the same amount as I save, but I save a bit more than I tithe. It's that scarcity consciousness rearing its ugly head. I'd like to operate out of a spirit of abundance, but I can't always manage that.

I wonder what would happen if I could have more faith that God would provide, if I took those passages seriously.

When Your Flame Flickers, Quit Moving so Quickly

Last night, we did a midweek labyrinth walk again. It's strange with the time change. Last week it was so dark. Last night, we walked in the blaze of sunset.

Again, we walked with candles in tall jars that we carried. It wasn't quite as breezy as last week, but my flame still flickered. I quickly noticed that if I slowed down or stopped for a minute, my flame blazed again.

I couldn't help but think about the implications for my daily life, where I am not feeling like the brightest flame lately. If I am the light of the world, as Jesus tells us, the world might be in trouble. My typical response to feeling my light flicker is to try to do more, be more efficient, move more quickly through my day. No wonder I feel frazzled.

What would happen if we all did more to protect our flickering flames? What would happen if we slowed down? I often assume the world will fall apart if I take some time for myself.

Of course, in these times of economic downturn, many of us are facing more pressures. Those of us who get to keep our jobs often find ourselves expected to do not only our work, but also the work of our laid off colleagues. And it's not a good time to look expendable. Those of us thrown out of work may feel that job hunting takes more time than our jobs did.

Still, we need to build some times of stillness into our days. If we just turn off the volume of our computers, we won't get pings whenever anyone sends us an e-mail; I know I'm not the only one who feels that I must drop everything and check my e-mail when I hear that ping. Maybe instead of having news on as our background noise, we could have some soothing or inspiring music. The world can spare us for the amount of time it takes to pray the Hours. We could find a yoga class--surely we can find an hour or two in our weeks for some kind of physical discipline that helps our minds calm down. We can look at our free time and make fierce decisions.

What activities (or rest!) helps keep our flames burning brightly? What makes our flames falter?

Meditation on This Week's Gospel

The readings for Sunday, March 15, 2009:

First Reading: Exodus 20:1-17


Psalm: Psalm 19


Second Reading: 1 Corinthians 1:18-25


Gospel: John 2:13-22

Ah, the moneychangers in the temple! Many of us as children (and perhaps as adults) loved this tale. Finally, a non-wimpy Jesus. A Jesus who wasn't afraid to take on the religious establishment. As a sullen teenager, I looked around church and thought, boy, Jesus would have his work cut out for him here.

Don't get the wrong idea--I wasn't going to some church that was transgressing on any large scale, and not on any small scale, that I knew about. I just looked around and saw lots of hypocrisy. Look at all this gold, I would say. We could sell the offering plates and give the money to the poor. Why do we all buy church clothes? We could come in our jeans, and give the money that we would have spent on fancy clothes to the poor. Why don't we invite the poor to our potluck dinners?

In retrospect, I'm surprised my parents still talk to me. What a tiresome child/teen I must have been, so self-righteous, so sure of everyone's faults and shortcomings.

As I've gotten older, I've become interested in this story from the moneychangers point of view. We often assume that the moneychangers were scurrilous men, out to make easy money, and I'm sure that some of them were.

However, I suspect that the majority of them would have told you that they were making salvation possible.

Under the old covenant, people had to go to the temple to make sacrifices to wash their sins away (it's a simplified version of a complicated theology, but let me continue for a few sentences). People who farmed had animals for sacrifice. Those who didn't, or those who came from far away, had to buy their sacrifice on site. And they needed help from the moneychangers and the animal sellers.

These people didn't know that Jesus had come to make a new covenant possible. They got up, went about their personal business, went to work, took care of their families--all the stuff that you and I do. They weren't focused on watching for the presence of God. They didn't know that they had been called to make way for a new Kingdom. They didn't know that the new Kingdom was breaking through, even as they showed up at their day jobs.

We might take a look at our own modern lives and institutions. In what ways do we think we're participating in God's law/kingdom/plan, but we're really not. My surly teenage self would mutter about hypocrites and exposing hypocrisy, but I'm not sure that's God's vision for me. It's a path that leads to self-righteousness and insufferability.

We might also take a look at our own modern institutions, especially religious ones. Where are we participating in God's plan? If Jesus showed up, what would he see as problematic? And how would we respond, if he pointed out something that needed some Spring cleaning, and it turned out that it was something we really cherished or thought that we were doing well?

Would I Be a Better Person If I Went to Church?--Forgiveness

Yesterday, on the Diane Rehm show, I heard an incredible story about a rape victim who identified the wrong man, and until DNA testing exonerated him (when the rape happened in the 80's, there was no DNA testing), he sat in prison.

I suspect this scenario plays out more often than we think. Memory is a tricky thing, especially as the brain deals with trauma, and our justice system is less just than we want to believe.

No, the amazing part of the story is that the falsely accused man forgave the woman (and the entire flawed system).

Diane Rehm asked him how he was able to do this, and he mentioned his Southern Baptist upbringing.

If we go to church every Sunday, many of us are periodically reminded of how important it is to forgive. My childhood brain did the multiplication of 70 times 7 to come up with the number that Jesus commanded, and gave up in frustration. I would have to forgive my sister that many times?

Yes, and maybe double or triple that.

The practice of forgiveness trains us to let go of our anger. This process may take some time, but most religious traditions assure us it will be worth it. Holding on to our hot, raging anger does not serve us well.

I've met people who are holding on to hurts from decades ago. They think they are protecting themselves, but they're really damaging themselves.

I'm not saying we can't learn our lessons, as we practice forgiveness. If someone hurts us maliciously time and time again, it may be wise to remove ourselves from relationship with them.

Another thing I noted about this story: the wronged man was able to forgive the raped woman because she came to him and asked for forgiveness.

That's another lesson that we learn in church. We must make amends if we've wronged someone. It's more important than showing up to worship--Jesus tells us that if we're in temple, and we remember that someone has a dispute with us, we are to leave that minute to seek reconciliation.

My atheist friends would remind me of all the people who sit through church services week after week who never learn these lessons. They say this as if it is somehow the fault of the church, and perhaps church communities could be better at calling people on their bad behavior.

But we are all flawed humans. Going to church doesn't change that. However, those of us who go to church are reminded that we are to strive to be better than our flawed selves. We hear the stories of Jesus, who came to show us all the potential that a human life contains. Maybe we'd get that message elsewhere, like in the stray Diane Rehm show (go here to get to the show--you'll need to scroll down). I look around me, and I'm not seeing that message projected very often in popular culture. Far better to find a spiritual community that will reinforce me in my pilgrim path towards being the human I yearn to become.

Alathea

Yesterday, before church, we had a concert. The duo Alathea was in town, and they came to play for us, and then to be part of our worship music.

Several weeks ago, when we heard they were coming, some part of me worried that it would be the unlistenable kind of Christian Contemporary music. My sister and I used to get into fierce arguments about the worth of Amy Grant and her ilk. I would always claim that U2 was a much better Christian band, because they didn't sacrifice the musical skill or the lyrics. In my high school, we had a small battle when we got a juke box in the cafeteria, and a Christian group demanded that Christian songs be put on the juke box. As I recall (imperfectly probably), the punk rockers demanded certain songs that served their interest, and school officials eventually decided to just take the juke box away.

Ah, 1983, when we still had 45'' records to put on a juke box, when we had interesting groups like punk rockers and Young Lifers. It made for an interesting high school life in Knoxville, Tennessee.

Happily, Alathea was a much better group than some of the Christian groups of my youth (and some of the ones currently on tour). They play a variety of instruments, and what a novelty that seems--groups that can actually play instruments! They harmonize beautifully, and their voices don't have that grating vibrato quality that we see so often on American Idol or that warbly (or worse, glass-breaking) soprano that one finds too often dominating church choirs.

I loved their lyrics, and the way that they could seamlessly go from one of their songs to an old Gospel standard. I loved that Mandee Radford would talk about her songs, and what inspired them. I loved that they played instruments like dulcimers, mandolins, and the banjo. I loved them so much that I bought all of their CDs, and spent a pleasant Sunday continuing to listen to their music.

These women have a goal to play 150 shows this year, so they might be appearing near you. Their website has all sorts of information, like their touring schedule and their biography. It also has a page where you can buy their music--they're having a fabulous sale!