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.
Diary of a (Maybe) Retired Pastor 