Playing Jesus

When I was a boy, I would watch Franco Zeffirelli's Jesus of Nazareth around Easter -- back when they would show it on one of the networks as a "miniseries." Back when we still knew the fun of waiting for something to come on TV -- the joy of anticipating something we couldn't instantly access online. (And while we're at it, get off my lawn, you kids!)

Over the Easter break from school, my wife and I sat down to start Jesus of Nazareth on video (alas) with our sons. We are watching it in about hour-long sections. They're enthralled. The philosophical questions are flying. Woe to my sons' theology teachers, that's all I can say.

For me, watching this film is another of those time-warps. In the first place, I had a really cool experience with the music, this time. As a kid and as a "wannabe" composer, I was always enthralled by Maurice Jarre's score -- especially Christ's theme. If you are interested, this is it:

Jerusalem Cruisers: Delivering Jesus

Three ominous men stepped out of a black car -- suit-clad; dead-serious -- and onto our neighborhood street at eleven a.m.on Sunday. One of them -- the mastermind, no doubt -- had donned a charcoal cheese-cutter cap to ward off the soft sunlight. (Evil, I thought. Only evil people wear that sort of a cap on this kind of a soft day.) They carried books under their arms. But the red, ribbon bookmarks belied their content: Lo! Bibles. Could they still be evil?

My wife and I, sitting by the window and having our morning coffee/tea, let out a mutual groan. These people. Not evil -- just pushy.

The conversation diced itself from a joyous repartee into stilted monosyllables as we continued to glance outside in order to ascertain how close they were coming to our door. There we were: two fat chickens awaiting the farmer's ax. Only this farmer wielded a Bible as the ax and he intended to send a metallic chill through our cozy Sunday morning with one fell swing.