Driving home tonight, about 6:30 with the sun still bright and strong, I found myself waiting at a very long traffic light downtown. Across the intersection, a thin cloud was slowly, slowly drifting up over a brick churchyard wall — hardly moving, but spilling as I watched over the section of street I would pass through when the light changed. Mist from a sprinkler? Smoke from a grill? No. Dust. I thought about rolling up my windows — we who are allergic to dust try to avoid breathing it — but decided not to bother: My truck windows crank up the old-fashioned way, and it didn’t seem worth the trouble.
Drifting — so slowly, it was dreamlike. I felt hypnotized. Time seemed suspended. As I said, it was a very long red light. I’d been hurrying all day — a business breakfast, an optometrist appointment (and my eyes were still chemically clouded from that, gazing westward toward the setting sun); a rather rushed lecture I delivered over at USC. And looking at something this slow was disorienting. As slowly as the cloud was drifting, as gradually as it was dissipating as it began to touch the other side of the street, passing from my right to my left, I saw the air would probably be clear by the time I passed through it. Not that it mattered, it was so thin, so diaphanous by this time I was beginning to doubt I’d seen it.
I glanced back at the brick wall. A churchyard. What was on the other side?
It was then that it occurred to me to wonder: Was that, literally, the dust to which we all return?
Tonight I read today’s Bible readings. The Lenten study guide I’ve been following recommends reading them in the mornings, but somehow I never get to it then. It’s always at night.
The Gospel, of course, was about Judas Iscariot selling out Jesus to the Sanhedrin. This is Spy Wednesday. I didn’t know that until a couple of days ago, and as tends to happen with such new things that we learn, I’ve seen other references to the fact since then. I inferred, correctly, that it was a reference to Judas. Which is odd. Seems it should be Traitor Wednesday. Or Turncoat, or Informer. But then, Judas was truly a spy in the classic sense. The popular image of a spy is that of James Bond — but he wasn’t a spy; he was a romanticized, action-packed depiction of an intelligence officer — the kind of person who recruits spies and acts as their case officer. A typical spy is a person who is an insider in the target institution or army or rival intelligence organization who comes forward on his own and offers information — either for money or for ideological reasons.
That’s what Judas did. Here’s an excerpt from today’s Gospel reading:
One of the Twelve, who was called Judas Iscariot,
went to the chief priests and said,
“What are you willing to give me
if I hand him over to you?”
They paid him thirty pieces of silver,
and from that time on he looked for an opportunity to hand him over.
So he fits the profile. The name for the day works.
And as is so often the case with spies, who tend to be conflicted, mixed-up characters, we don’t know what his motive was. The evangelist who wrote the book of John chose to blacken his name as much as possible (unlike the other three, John wrote like a man with scores to settle), giving him the most despicable, contemptible, venal motive, even claiming that he was a crook all along, foreshadowing his betrayal thusly:
Mary took a liter of costly perfumed oil
made from genuine aromatic nard
and anointed the feet of Jesus and dried them with her hair;
the house was filled with the fragrance of the oil.
Then Judas the Iscariot, one of his disciples,
and the one who would betray him, said,
“Why was this oil not sold for three hundred days’ wages
and given to the poor?”
He said this not because he cared about the poor
but because he was a thief and held the money bag
and used to steal the contributions.
So Jesus said, “Leave her alone.
Let her keep this for the day of my burial.
You always have the poor with you, but you do not always have me.”
Other explanations are more sympathetic, making Judas a man with his own motives that he himself may have even thought noble — until his moment of despair when he turned to suicide. There’s a scene missing, the one in which the full moral force of his act hits him — one I picture being somewhat like the moment when Raskolnikov unexpectedly finds his mother and sister in his room and suddenly realizes, fully and completely, what he has done, and faints dead away. We know why Raskolnikov did what it did; Dostoevsky explains it with admirable (or maddening, if you’re not a fan) thoroughness.
But we are left to speculate about Judas. The apocryphal Gospel of Judas makes the Iscariot into a mystical co-conspirator of Jesus in his own death, the one disciple to whom the true mysteries are revealed. Seems a bit far-fetched to me, but then I’m not of the Gnostic persuasion.
I’ve always found the popular depiction in “Jesus Christ Superstar” more compelling, if you’ll forgive me for turning to secular (and agnostic) popular culture. That Judas — in addition to being a singer who could really rock — was a disillusioned modern liberal, a secular humanist who really dug the give-to-the-poor aspect of the Teacher, but got turned off by the suggestions of the divine:
If you strip away
The myth
From the man
You will see
Where we all
Soon will beJesus!
You’ve started to believe
The things they say of you
You really do believe
This talk of God is trueAnd all the good you’ve done
Will soon be swept away
You’ve begun to matter more
Than the things you say…
This Judas is sincerely turned off by Mary’s “waste” of the ointment (wrong Mary, though — Webber and Rice took liberties) — he really believed the money should have gone to the poor.
In this story, Judas seems to think that if he could get his Master arrested, it would take him out of circulation long enough for things to cool down — or something. The lyrics aren’t that clear, but they seem to imply something like that. But when he sees what the authorities have done to his victim, he is horrified:
My God, I saw him
He looked three-quarters dead
And he was so bad
I had to turn my head
You beat him so hard
That he was bent and lame
And I know who everybody’s
Going to blame
I don’t believe he knows
I acted for our good
I’d save him all the suffering
If I could…
His is a secular figure, turned off by mysticism, but a moralist of the humanist modern type. And while the waste of money that could have been spent on the poor offends him, he is made sick to his soul at the thought that he was responsible for such violence — deadly violence against one he loved, and had betrayed for his own good. Hence despair, and suicide.
Webber and Rice may have been onto something with that. It’s a compelling backstory to the Greatest Story Ever Told, at any rate.
It strikes me these are perhaps frivolous thoughts about the profoundest truths. But these are the things I’m thinking, late on a long and tiring Spy Wednesday. I think I’ll go to bed…
Wow, thanks for a moving meditation!
Yes, I’ve always thought that there is a possibility in this thought line, mainly because Matthew 27:3ff:
Like maybe Judas was counting on Jesus to make a move for political power, once He saw what was in His grasp, and that it was an “either-or” situation. So he thought he had forced him to act for his own good–and for Judas’ and the other followers’ good as well.
Maybe? Ultimately, it’s speculating to know what Judas’ dark mind was thinking. But two things still stand out for me. 1) “Were you there, when they crucified my lord?” Yes, in one way or another: as denier, coward–hopefully not the betrayer, but at the very best, powerless, following from a distance. The women did the best on this, were the most brave, as women usually are, ultimately the stronger sex. But all of us fall short. 2) Politics was involved in crucifying Jesus, politics that uses any means, justified, it thinks, by the ends. Jesus had been walking in a minefield of politics for over three years, always avoiding the attempt to make him into a king who would be their little, petty, clan god, subservient, ultimately to our personal ends. God made into the image of man. Now the chief priests had saved their political aspirations, and acted, so they thought, for the good of the nation.
Two partisan groups had collided during the passion week, one that intended to make Him King, and the other that intended to prevent exactly that, and save the nation. And the latter won out, or so they thought.
Mary is the one I admire most, pouring out the jar of her social security (and probably) life savings on the One who mattered most to her. I’m not sure I’ll ever have that level of commitment.
Thanks, Herb; that’s a point (your point No. 1) I neglected to make, and had intended to. Once we get past John’s “bad guys wear black hats” account, and think harder about Judas, we realize that we betray Jesus all the time. With the crowd, we cry “crucify him!” But more often, we betray him in more subtle, or more complicated, ways, from Judas’ to Peter’s denials…
I just saw the movie “Jesus Christ Superstar” for the first time a couple of weeks ago with a church discussion group I’m attending. I had never seen the movie before, although I saw the play on Broadway (anyone who missed Ben Vereen as Judas missed a marvelous interpretation of that role). How close Judas was to Jesus is unclear. He is not mentioned very much in the other gospels, but he had to be lying near Jesus at the last supper if John’s story of Jesus handing him a sop of bread is based on fact unless you posit that Jesus got up, walked over to him, and handed it to him. That would place Judas in a position of ‘honor’ according to the seating customs of that time. At any rate, we often feel very guilty over the unintended consequences of our actions, as that last speech you quoted of Judas’ indicates. I suspect that many bishops in the Holy Roman Church, and perhaps the Pope himself are experiencing a similar type of guilt over the way the church previously handled pederast priests. I wonder how they will respond to that guilt? Confession and repentance? Denial? Despair?
Judas was the deus ex machina of the crucifixion story. Somebody had to do it, right?
It’s always been a bit hard for me to demonize him, somewhat as in the story of Mary and Martha, where Jesus chides Martha for fixing supper. How was she to know he could just whip something up (Domino’s pizza delivers)? Somebody had to do it, and they didn’t have microwaves handy back then.
If we view Christ’s crucifixion as God’s will, and therefore a good thing, then why the somberness on Good Friday and demonizing of Judas? As Canon Susan Heath says, “It’s not a funeral.”
You just saw the movie, Karen?
Well, I didn’t want to put on airs, but… I actually performed in it, in an energetic, well-received production in Tennessee back in the early 80s. I was an apostle — which meant, aside from being one of the 12, I was a member of the crowd that cried “crucify him,” and a leper, and a member of the chorus in the big production number of “Superstar” at the end.
The director told me well into it that he wished he had cast me as Peter or some other larger part, but he hadn’t because he didn’t know me and didn’t know what I could do. My voice was better then (and Peter is an easy part to sing).
But you know what part I think I was best suited to? Pilate. Pilate I could get into. It would have meant I didn’t get to grow the bushy dark beard I had in those days, and I wouldn’t have been a sympathetic character, but it would be good casting. I fit the type. It’s not all that hard to sing — though it’s more demanding than Peter, my voice is suited to it — and the whole conflicted politician role is a meaty one, and one I feel I understand. Like Judas (a part I could never sing), he’s basically a thoughtful guy who wants to do the right thing, but lacks the courage and/or wisdom in the end.
Of course, the most fun part — and the best part of the movie version, with the wild-haired actor dancing like a madman — is Simon Zealot.
As I type this, by the way, I’m listening to “Heaven on their Minds” — the song in which Judas first airs his doubts — on Pandora. Original cast.
… followed by “What’s the buzz”!
“WHYYY… should you want to know…”
Unfortunately, this one is from the movie version, and I thought that Jesus was wimpy.
It still has the wonderful Yvonne Elliman from the Original Cast as the Magdalene, though.
She’s from Hawaii, you know — the place I first heard the original album.
I was at a beach house at Barber’s Point where some friends were spending the week, and there was this beautiful Irish girl (Burl, can you guess who she was? You would know her) lying on the floor between stereo speakers listening to it. And I looked at her, and listened…
Which isn’t exactly the monastic ideal in terms of ways to contemplate the Passion.
Later that year, I saw Ms. Elliman recreate the role in the concert version at the Carolina Coliseum. I got around in those days.
How can you have had a better voice then? You don’t smoke, drink or yell yourself hoarse. Men’s voices pretty much always get better with age, up to a certain point. They may change range a bit, but… I bet you just need to sing the cobwebs out is all. Rev it up to highway speed.
I’ve always thought of Bond as more of an assassin/commando than a spy–the whole “license to kill” thing. I don’t think he would ever make a good case officer because he is too high profile and couldn’t deal with the bureaucracy.
I am not sure that the “Jesus Christ, Superstar” Judas did not have a point. I think sometimes there is a tendency among Christians to focus on who he _is_, rather than what he _said_–on the messenger and not the message. This is likely in part because the message is not an easy one; far easier to focus on Jesus as Savior and forget that the good news he proclaimed required us to take on some very heavy duties and responsibilities. Not only that, but some of the things he asked us to do go directly against our inclinations and beliefs on “how the world works.”
James, you’re absolutely right about Bond! I just didn’t want to get into fine distinctions; that post was long enough.
Bond is best understood as an SAS commando recruited to do “wet” work for MI6. In le Carre’s “Circus” he would be a scalphunter. In the U.S. system, he would probably be a former Seal or Delta soldier doing contract work for CIA or DIA or some other agency.
Although, of course, we don’t do things that way, post-Church committee. The CIA’s way to take a guy out is with a drone-launched missile. We leave the classic assassin work to the Mossad. Nobody does it better, to throw in a cheesy song cue.
And of course Judas had a point, at least to his way of thinking. I believe Satan works that way. Judas was the smart one, the gears churning in his head while the others were loading up on wine and falling asleep, so reasonable arguments insinuated themselves into his head. Same deal with Raskolnikov, which is what caused me to mention him earlier. All perfectly reasonable and rational, until you suddenly run into your mother and sister and realize how profoundly WRONG and EVIL it was. I have this theory that the most dangerous thing in the world is an intelligent man isolated from the civilizing, socializing influence of other people, a man left to stew in his own ideas without anyone to call “B.S.” to him. And Raskolnikov is the poster boy.
Okay, suppose everyone was immune to the charms of Satan [Church Lady face]and unwilling to do the Judas deed–how does Christ’s destiny get fulfilled?
We make Judas an Untouchable because he did the dirty work. How convenient.
Oh, and I meant “machina ex Deus”….
Kathryn, as strongly as Jesus was challenging the standard world order, i.e. calling for peace thru justice instead of peace thru domination, the rulers of both the religious establishment, the social order, and the political empire would be after him. And they continue to this day to destroy those who don’t accept a “dominate and subjugate or destroy” approach to peace. One of the most wonderful parts of the Good News is that this apparent destruction is not the last word. That goodness can rise out of what appears to be killing fields, and what the current Empire squashes may rise again until justice reigns.
Brad, why see the movie when you’ve just seen the play?
Actually, you don’t need either the movie or the play. I just get a chill hearing Stig Rossen sing “Gethsemane.”
@ Karen–
Didn’t Pontius Pilate wash his hands of it all, and he was the government.
I think you see the movie to see the very best (supposedly) singers and dancers, for one thing.
I see the films of plays to see how they converted a largely spoken medium to a largely visual one. Also, if the playwright was involved in the film, one can get additional clues about his or her intent.
Pilate washed his hands. Herod sent Jesus back to Pilate (after Pilate sent Jesus to Herod). In both cases they’re trying to get the best of both worlds, as in “get rid of this trouble maker but don’t get blamed for it.” If either had been interested in justice, Jesus would have been freed. The argument that the Jewish community had no authority to kill Jesus doesn’t work; they could have stoned him. Only Rome could crucify. Consider the sign, “King of the Jews.” That’s the reason Pilate executed Jesus, and executed him by crucifixion, which was reserved for escaped slaves and enemies of the state. Jesus was being called “Son of God” and “The anointed one.” He was “Prince of Peace.” These are titles claimed by Cesar. Oh, yeah, Rome wanted him dead.
Re: movie. The stage is largely visual also. I was an impoveished grad student at the time. Having just seen the movie, I was thrown off at first by the fact that Judas was lip synching his first song, and not doing it very well. I saw lip synching at other times when the actor was called upon to sing while performing athletic feats. And if the playwright wanted a movie, why didn’t he write a film script to start with?
Stage vs. Film—Sure a musical is visual, but “legitimate” dramatic theatre is far more about the lines–you have to confine yourself to a stage and what’s on it. When plays are made into films, much dialogue is cut and many more scenes in various locales are usually added. The play Doubt, for example, has two sets. The film takes place all over the neighborhood–we even get to see the home where the playwright grew up. You have very short takes that can show things that have to be covered in dialogue on stage because of practical limitations.
They always lip-synch singing, and possibly other dialogue in movies–they “loop” the dialogue after they film it, because of limitations in sound recording.
The playwright wrote a play, because he wanted a Broadway musical. Subsequent productions may not be up to “Broadway” standards. If you can’t see a musical on Broadway, or with a first rate touring company, you will probably see better dancing and production values in the movie. Now, you get directors like Rob Marshall who do far too many cute angles and close-ups, so you don’t get the real spectacle effect.
Which is not to knock local productions. I’ve done them. I’ve watched them. It’s great to see live performance, and it’s especially fun if you know someone in the production….but the performing standards are usually not quite as high.
A point that’s being overlooked here: I think “Superstar” was not originally a play. It was a studio album. Basically, a “rock opera” that was recorded before it was performed on a stage.
Then, some months later, a touring group started going around performing it — but more as a concert than a fully staged play. I saw it at the Carolina Coliseum in August 1971.
Later, people started staging it as a play. I can’t remember whether that came before the 1973 film or not.
You bring up another issue–musicals from albums–Tommy is one (ewww), Quadrophenia–a film that is loved by men of a certain age, and not too many other people….What others–A Little Night Music?!?? (ha ha)
Didn’t U2 and, like, Terry Gilliam just have some collaboration? These sorts of hybrid efforts are often not exactly the best of either parent art form, imho.
The play came out before the film, I’m pretty sure. The Broadway version was fantastic.
The play was on Broadway in the Spring of 1972. On that trip I also attended “The Crucible.” This kid from rural New York State began to acquire some culture . . .
Mamma Mia!
Another musical from albums…
Intriguing. Have been trying to learn a different language for a while now so this is highly relevant! Thank you.