Lent Day 33: Where do you find joy? Part 2: Entertainment

I really do love the PCUSA Daily Prayerbook. Members of committees and boards in the congregation I serve are used to me waving the book at them prior to reading a prayer to kick off or close a meeting. One of the things I particularly love about it is the way the days of the week are themed. For example, Thursday prayers mention the ministry of Word and Sacrament, the affection of our friends, and our call to love and care for one another... all things that connect with Maundy Thursday, a day (night) on which friends gathered around a table, a Sacrament was instituted, and Jesus exemplified love and caring as he washed his disciples' feet.

The themes of Saturday are related to weekend-things... ministries of music and the arts, time for rest and recreation, but also the burden of addiction (which so often becomes more visible in weekend activities). 

The prayers begin with expressions of gratitude. One of these is "those who enlighten and entertain."

I come from a family of artists and entertainers. Both my adult children have pursued careers in theater in various ways; their dad works with symphony orchestras. My partner helps people to adorn their homes with the art and photographs they love. Even I tried my hand (ever so briefly) at singing professionally when I was in my twenties. All of us place value on the arts and entertainment--not in the abstract, but in the specific ways artists, actors, musicians hold a mirror up to life--the good, the bad, and the ugly-- and show us our humanity, or lack thereof. My children and I love to experience a play or movie or TV show together, and then talk about it at length, in detail, analyzing the choices directors and actors make, sharing our excitement at the things that really pop for us, shaking our heads sadly at near misses.

So, I love all these things. And seeing them, taking them in, and then pulling them apart with those who experience them with me, is a real joy. 

Last night a friend and I shared dinner and then saw a great local production of "Jesus Christ Superstar," a play I have loved since my mom bought me the concept album when I was eleven. I was a Catholic schoolkid who was pretty into the rosary and Mary and wanted to be a nun now and then, so, suffice to say, this music / musical was a kind of emotional and spiritual explosion. I had never heard anybody talk about Jesus like Judas (who, let's admit, is the star of the show, title notwithstanding. It is his journey that we are following with rapt attention, and that makes sense. He stands in for us, in many ways.) 

The first words of the opening song are, "My mind is clearer now." 

And you know what? Because of the brilliance of Andrew Lloyd Weber and Tim Rice, my mind was clearer, in the sense that I got to witness a struggle with doubt (Judas') that had been presented to me one-dimensionally. I got to witness Jesus with all his humanity on view (which, let's be frank, isn't typically well-presented, no matter what our theology tells us about fully God/ fully human. I am happy to report that last night's Judas knocked it out of the park.). I got to witness various disciples and their points of view and political sympathies and limitations. No matter what you think of how Rice and Weber use the gospel of John (which is their main source), the presentation of the Jesus story here is a revelation. That revelation is: There is more than one way to look at this. Even if the rock opera doesn't move the needle on your theology one point, anyone who allows themselves to take this in is enriched by the beauty of someone taking a story and telling it through music and song.

All this is my reaction to the album. Imagine what happened to me when I saw the movie.

Here's what happened. My favorite song went from "I Don't Know How to Love Him" (which, today, isn't even one of my top five favorite songs from the show) to "Gethsemane (I Only Want to Say)." Why? because of Norman Jewison's brilliant direction which has Jesus climbing the Mount of Olives while he is singing to God, begging God to let him live.

I only want to say
if there is a way
take this cup away from me,
'cause I don't want to taste its poison,
feel it burn me.
I have changed.
I'm not as sure
as when we started...

This passage of scripture is generally called "the agony in the garden." Interestingly, this is one place where Rice / Weber depart significantly from John's gospel--Jesus is in agony in Matthew, Mark, and Luke. In the gospel of John, he is not only resolved, but eerily eager to go to his death, which he calls his "glory."

Not here. Here, Rice / Weber embrace Jesus' humanity and fear (and the three synoptic tellings of this moment), and the climb is the embodiment of that. He is trying to reach out to God, climbing toward the invisible and, in this moment, silent Deity. He climbs higher and higher, his distress increasing with the altitude. At the apex of both his climb and the music ("Alright! I'll die!") the camera leaves the actor, Ted Neeley, and we see, instead, images of paintings of the crucifixion, as the time signature of the music jolts from 4/4 into 5/4, a rhythm that the listener feels in their body because, in that moment, it's so unexpected and off-balance. It heightens the horror. God either doesn't hear or won't respond.

I've never heard that song in the same way again. Now it slays me emotionally, all because a director and an actor and a production designer used the music and lyrics in a brilliant way to show us what agony looks like. It is imprinted on my soul.

This. Gives. Me. Joy. A well-made film or TV show, a well-produced play engages the senses, awakens the critical faculties, pierces the emotions, captures the viewer /listener, and gives them an experience they can't shake (and often, don't want to).

Here. You'll see what I mean. Entertainment like this gives me joy. What entertainment is flooding you with endorphins today?

 

Lent Day 26: The Women Who Anointed Jesus Part 1

Sermon Prep

There are some gospel stories that are one-of-a-kind--the parable of the Prodigal Son comes to mind, a beloved tale that is reported only in the Gospel According to Luke. There are other gospel stories that are told over and over; there is something so essential about them, it seems the gospel wouldn't be the gospel if they were missing.  The feeding of the multitudes is one such story, told six times across the four gospels. Jesus predicts his death three times in the synoptic gospels (Matthew, Mark, and Luke), and talks about it extensively in the second half of the Gospel According to John. And, of course, the crucifixion and the empty tomb are recounted in all four gospels, with varying details. 

The anointing of Jesus is another such story.  It is told four times, once in each gospel, providing us essentially, three versions of the story. As I prepare to preach on the version found in John's gospel, I thought I'd clarify my thoughts. Today I'll talk about the version found (with only slight differences) in the gospels of Matthew and Mark; tomorrow I will address the version found in the Gospel According to Luke, and on Saturday, I will talk about the version I'll be preaching on this Sunday, as found in the gospel as John.

Again, the versions told in Matthew and Mark are nearly identical, with only a few details changed. The setting is the same--the home of Simon the leper, in Bethany. Both passages take place during Holy Week, most likely on Wednesday. Both passages take place immediately following the news of the religious leaders plotting to kill Jesus, and immediately prior to Judas acting on his decision to betray Jesus--what textual critics call an inclusio, a kind of thematic sandwich. Betrayal is all around this story, but the story itself is about an action that is the opposite of betrayal.

Jesus is dining at Simon's home, and at some point during the evening, an unnamed woman enters. She brings with her a jar of costly ointment, and proceeds to pour it on Jesus' head. 

Matthew and Mark both have the woman anointing Jesus' head (as opposed to his feet, as portrayed in Luke and John). This evokes the anointing of a king, a priest, or a prophet-- all roles associated with the ministry of Jesus and subsequent theological understanding of his role as Messiah. 

Matthew includes the detail that it is Nard, a product of the spikenard plant; he also includes the detail that the woman breaks the jar open.

Immediately anger ensues. In Mark's gospel, it is attributed to "some who were there," but in Matthew, it is the disciples. Why such a waste? This ointment could have been sold for a large amount of money (Matthew: 300 denarii, about a year's wages for a day laborer). The money could have been given to the poor. Matthew has the disciples scolding the woman directly, while in Mark, the comments are all directed at Jesus.

Jesus' response is strong: Leave her alone (Matthew). Why do you trouble her? She has done a good service for me (as so strongly contrasted with the evil service cooked up by the religious leaders and Judas). Jesus identifies this anointing as preparation for his burial. As I mentioned earlier, all four gospels show Jesus predicting his passion and death. The disciples push back on his predictions (especially Peter), Only this unnamed woman acknowledges what he has predicted, and, by his interpretation of her action, ritually prepares for that moment.

A breathtaking statement ends both accounts. The goodness of the woman's action is so profound, Jesus states that it will live on in the memory of the church.

"Truly I tell you, wherever the good news is proclaimed in the whole world, what she has done will be told in remembrance of her." (Mark 14:9; Matthew 26:13)

The memory of the unnamed woman lives on.