My teen and I watched the 2012 production of Jesus Christ Superstar last night and this morning. While I’m more a fan of the pre-2000 staging with the Ancient Israel/1970s clothing and vibe, this production hit me hard. It’s ultra-modern with the pharisees dressed like Wall Street barons, Judas and Mary Magdalene with dreads, Pilate looking like a power lawyer, and the crowds looking like escapees from the Occupy Wall Street movement, complete with backpacks and tents. Jesus wears an orange jumpsuit at the end, and the jail where they toss him has chain-link and razor wire with armed guards. There are hashtags and allusions to daytime trash talk shows (“Herod’s Song”). There are pictures of homeless people. The crowd holds signs that read, “Rome Lies” and “People Over Profits.” How incredibly fitting for this time of pandemic! It’s raw and gritty, and I cried at the end. This is my second favorite play, and I’ve seen it several times on stage and I own the 1973 movie version. I know how it ends, and I know how the story really ends. (Hint: It doesn’t end on the cross.) And still, I got choked up with tears in my eyes and my nose tingling like it does before I cry. This production hit me as all too relevant.
As we face weeks upon weeks of stay-at-home orders, we yearn for a time when we can get back to “normal.” I’m not sure I want that, though, because if this pandemic has shown us nothing else, it’s shown us what our “normal” selves are like, and it’s quite disgusting. People went insane buying up toilet paper, disinfecting wipes, bread, milk, and paper towels, leaving none for the elderly, the vulnerable, and those who work until 11 p.m. on the front lines of hospitals. I’ve heard reports of people going into stores and pouring filth out of their mouths at other customers and employees. Still others selfishly wanted their rights to go wherever they wanted–including church–but didn’t give a damn about the elderly saints they could unknowingly infect. In short, this pandemic showed us just how big of selfish assholes people can be. Is that what we really want to go back to because that was “normal”?
In the play, what irritates the elite corporate ruling class is that Jesus upsets the status quo. Even in the original staging, the ruling class is made up of the Pharisees, and Jesus was messing with their status quo, too. What does our status quo look like? If our status quo looks like pandering to the wealthy 1% in hopes they’ll drop some financial crumbs, then we’re worshiping the same financial gods they are.
But what if Jesus Christ is our status quo? What would that look like? I think it’d look like altruism. It’d look like selflessness. It would be Christ-centered so that even stresses and irritations wouldn’t make us act like hateful fools.
It would be Bible-based so we would always have the words to share a beautiful or encouraging heart thought. “I thank God for you and think of you with joy.” “God is present with you.” “God hears the fears of your heart today.”
Jesus as our status quo would also be ministry-focused. It would reach out to people with those kind words. It would deliver cookies to neighbors. It would drop some toilet paper off at the home of someone who’s two rolls short and three days shy of pay day. It would send the text or make that phone call that says, “How ya doing? I’m praying for you.” It contacts the preacher to say, “This is tough and you didn’t sign on to preach via live stream to an empty church, but I want you to know you’re doing a great job.”
So what status quo do you want to get to: The materialistic, selfish one where it seems like big business is controlling everything and minimum-wage workers should just shut-up and be happy with what they’re making? The one where vast amounts of pollution belch up into the sky and debris and trash turn blue waters into sludge? Or the status quo that reflects Christ, that nurtures small businesses, advocates for fair wages for these workers we’ve suddenly determined are essential, protects the Earth that sustains our lives, and actively and joyfully cares for those who need it?
I don’t miss the way we used to be, and I’m liking the way we are now. It’s my hope that we are able to grasp hold of how it feels to minister, how it feels to help, how it feels to encourage, how it feels to share, and how it feels to breathe clean air and carry that over into the new normal once this pandemic passes.
