I'm a church kid.
As in, I've gone to church since before I was born...was dedicated while I was still an infant, and my great uncle pastored a church in Syracuse before he passed away.
I've heard the Easter story every single year, and when I was seven, my favorite chapters in the entire Bible were Luke 22-24 - the story of Jesus' betrayal, crucifixion, death, and resurrection.
In addition, I grew up in a very strong Christian family, so I don't honestly remember a point in my life where I didn't know who Jesus was and what He did for me.
The problem with such familiarity, I find, is that sometimes it can dull the meaning of powerful truths. They say 'familiarity breeds contempt', and I grew so accustomed to hearing the Easter story that it lost most of its wonder and awe for me.
A few years ago, though, during Holy Week, we rented out the 1973 film version of Andrew Lloyd Webber and Ted Rice's iconic rock opera "Jesus Christ Superstar", and after I got past the initial shock of how different it was from The Passion of Christ, for instance, I'm afraid I quite fell in love.
I literally cried at the expression on Jesus' face when Judas turns his back on him. I got chills when Jesus defended Mary Magdalene, and flinched when the soldiers flogged him.
And to be honest, even though they neglected the resurrection, it left a much more powerful impression on me than Son of God, The Story of Jesus, or any of the assorted Holy Week movies I had seen.
I think much of its power is that it takes the greatest story ever told out of all its cultural trappings and presents it - in large - for what it is.
A misunderstood, innocent Savior who is torn between his love for the world and his desire not to have to endure the brutal death he knows is coming.
His right hand man,Judas Iscariot, whose conflicted passions vary between extreme judgmentalism and a willingness to sell out his Master in order to avert an anticipated catastrophe.
The ex-prostitute, Mary Magdalene whose life is radically changed by meeting Jesus, a man unlike any other she had ever encountered before.
And an entire cast of other assorted variables like the paranoid Pilate, the childish Herod, the cruel Caiaphas, and the cowardly Peter.
While I'm sure that some will disagree with me and hate the movie because of its faulty depiction of Jesus' emotions, and the extensive scripture tweaking and faulty theology which went on, I loved it because it brought home to me the drama and tragedy surrounding Holy Week, which, from sheer familiarity, had become trite to me.
Hence, it's still my Holy Week tradition.
And I think it will continue as such.
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