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Diary of a (Maybe) Retired Pastor

Tag: Holy Week

  • I Don’t Know How To Love Him

    mayberetiredpastor

    I Don’t Know How to Love Him

    “A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. 35 By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.”

    Gospel of John 13:34-35, New Testament, The Bible.

    Our minister made a bold song choice this Easter. He closed the Maundy Thursday service with the song Gethsemane (I Only Want To Say) from Jesus Christ Superstar. Bold because it is musically demanding, but the church is gifted with some superb musicians; bold because it was not what the congregation expected; bold because at the time of its release over fifty years ago it was highly controversial drawing outrage from many Christians (I was there!). The vocalist and keyboardist gave a powerful rendition of the song but all I could hear were the screaming rock vocals of Ian Gillan of the original studio cast. Despite its unsavoury reputation in the church at the time, Jesus Christ Superstar taught me more about the gospel than all the years I had spent in Sunday School put together! For the first time, I understood that Jesus Christ was truly a man, a real person. That, for Him, the anticipation of dying on a cross was something that horrified Him, He did not, then, know the reality of the resurrection because He had not lived it – it hadn’t happened yet. He was in the same position as we, having to trust God.

    Two songs from Jesus Christ Superstar have stayed with me through the years. The boozy disciples’ song  that so deftly paints what the Last Supper might have been like (Look at all my trials and tribulations, sinking in a gentle pool of wine …) and the song, I Don’t Know How to Love Him sung once by Mary Magdalene and once by Judas.

    Look at all my trials and tribulations might (and did) strike some as irreverent but, for me, it was, and is, a warning not to take the sacrament of the Last Supper (or Holy Communion depending on what tradition you hail from) lightly. It reminds me to take time as I eat the bread and drink the wine (alcoholic or not) lest I share in the drunken oblivion of the disciples. It is the reason I find the fashion for supermarket communion (1) amongst some churches objectionable – theirs is the very essence of the disciples’ boozy song in Superstar, completely oblivious to what is going on.

    But it is Mary’s and Judas’ song that haunts me most. In Mary’s voice it is a song of tender love and devotion, but, also of confusion and bewilderment as she wrestles to understand exactly what she is feeling for Jesus – it is almost mediaeval in its sensibility towards Jesus Christ.  In Judas’ voice, it is a song of angry despair. He sees the good in the man whom he has followed for three years and wants so much to see Him succeed  and yet believes that the path He has set is so wrong. Judas wants to love Jesus but he is only able to betray Him.  And so, for me, the song expresses the inadequacy of my response to Jesus. Having followed Him for over half-a-century, I still find myself painfully aware how far short of truly loving Him I am, and yet still He fills my life with grace.

    I am grateful to our minister for his bold and inspired choice of song for Maundy Thursday. It has helped me reflect more deeply on the grace that has been poured out for me.  

    1. https://diaryofamayberetiredpastor.blog/2024/07/15/supermarket-communion/

  • Tears in Heaven

    mayberetiredpastor

    Tears in Heaven

    As he came near and saw the city, he wept over it, saying, ‘If you, even you, had only recognized on this day the things that make for peace! But now they are hidden from your eyes.

    Luke 19:41-42

    At last week’s Maundy Thursday service we were asked had we ever imagined what heaven would be like? I have often thought about what heaven would be like and those who have regularly listened to me preach may remember how I imagine heaven to be. However, there is one idea of heaven I have that I haven’t shared so much.

    Most of us when thinking about heaven will likely turn to the end of the book of Revelation and recall the promises that there will be no more tears or suffering and so believe that heaven will be a place of unalloyed joy. But for some years now I have felt that that can’t quite be true, at least, not for God. At my best, I sometimes feel great sadness over the fact that billions of human beings will not know eternal life and be lost to eternal damnation (yes, I still believe in that!), but, in all honesty, most of the time it doesn’t bother me that much. But for God, surely it must be so different, the loss of so many for whom His Son suffered so much must be an eternal source of grief?

    As we celebrated Communion on Maundy Thursday I was suddenly filled with another sadness, not for the obvious reason – that our Saviour indeed endured so much suffering for our sakes – but  because I felt Him grieving over His church.  I felt that He grieved over the way we behave towards each other, our harshness, our lack of kindness and generosity, our squabbles over doctrine, not just historically – when we even went to war against each other over our differences – but in the present day as we meet the contentious issues of  our times. Not that these are unimportant, but that the way we handle and express our sometimes deep differences seems little different from the way of the world and exhibits little grace or love.

    Jesus stood looking over Jerusalem and wept. I feel that He must still be weeping as He looks over His church today.