Under the Spell

Just this past weekend, I was faced with an agonizing choice: take my son to see a high school musical (no, not the High School Musical), or spend the afternoon cleaning the basement.

I'm not sure how long the Jeopardy theme lasts, not that I'm planning to pay royalties to Merv Griffin's estate... but let's just say the decision didn't take that long.

Start with the fact that I am myself the veteran of a number of stage musicals -- anyone who knows me even casually would probably guess that. Add the twist that the show was being presented by my alma mater. Plus, the wife is not so much a fan of the melodic arts (and besides, she was On Duty for the school project we've been trying really hard to pretend was not coming around again via child #2), so if one of us was taking the boy, it figured to be me. In addition, I kind of "collect" classic musicals, and this was one I'd never seen... and for the clincher, it was Godspell.

When you put all of that together, what you end up with is yet another of those perfect storm situations -- or as I often say, if nothing else, I'll get a blog out of it.

I'm probably fortunate that they've redesigned my high school to the extent that the interior is pretty much unrecognizable; there's only so much sensory input I can process at once, and nostalgia all by itself tends to blow my circuit breakers. Still, the auditorium hadn't changed much, so I got an instant zing walking down the aisle.

Before the show, we got an orientation from the director, pointing out that the basic book (script) is meant to be supplemented with more current cultural references (it was written almost 40 years ago, after all). And indeed there were enough extra "bits" that it threatened to veer into Monty Python territory at times, but it mostly all worked as part of the atmosphere.

You can see that, as usual, I was dealing with the Curse of the Blogger -- the affliction wherein I can't really just experience anything for itself. I'm always a little bit outside myself... asking, "Am I enjoying this? Is this really good? What's it like for the people involved?"

I should note, this didn't come about as a result of the blog; if anything, it's the cause. I like to think, at least, that it helps me develop more of a unified 'storyline' to the topics I write about, and maybe even dig out the essence or most important/interesting aspects of an event. However, it can also be kind of a pain in the keister to never quite be all the way in the moment.

I could almost feel the different parts of my brain firing simultaneously as we reached the show's climax. I had been wondering throughout: what's it like for a bunch of "random" high schoolers to be in a show based on the words of Jesus? Did any of the words get through? Were any of them more curious about discipleship than before they started?

At the same time I was also mindful of the experience of putting on a show, keeping an audience's attention, getting applause -- the rush of entertaining; but also the sort of foreboding that comes during the last show, as the intense experience you've been sharing for so many weeks is about to come to an end.

The emotional high point of the show is when Jesus is crucified -- symbolically, not violently, but it's still a wrenching moment. And much of the cast was crying or near tears. I wondered... are they just really good actors? Maybe some of them are painfully aware that in 10 minutes the show will be over forever. Or... could it be that one or more of the kids up there is being overwhelmed by the truth of the gospel?

Hard to say from my vantage point. But it's kind of ironic that keeping myself "outside" the show really worked to draw me in, to really feel what the cast members must've been feeling -- both the performance experience and the true majesty of the story. And as the triumphant conclusion unfolded to the strains of "Long Live God", and then the cast returned laughing and crying at once for the encore, I paused for a moment (choking back my own tears) to pray for the hearts of a group of kids, that they would always contain all the words they had spoken and sung.