A Hardened Zealot Seeks Meaning in Elizabeth George Speare's The Bronze Bow

The month and a half leading up to Easter, and the last week in particular, are meant to be times of deep contemplation for Christians. Thanks to a most timely recommendation, Elizabeth George Speare’s The Bronze Bow rose to the top of my must-read list this month, giving me a beautiful novel to reflect upon for Holy Week.

Speare has received Newbery recognition for two of her other novels, both of which explore themes of faith, friendship and overcoming one’s prejudices. In this 1962 Newbery Medal-winning book, set near Capernaum of 2000 years ago, Biblical characters weave their way in and out of the story of 18-year-old Israelite Daniel, who has lived for nothing but revenge since his father’s crucifixion a decade earlier. Having exchanged apprenticeship to an abusive blacksmith and a dreary home with a withered grandmother and cowed sister for a bandit’s existence in the nearby mountains, Daniel venerates Rosh, a fierce outlaw he believes will lead an army to rise up against the Roman scum who hold the Jewish people under their sway. On the mountain, he feels a sense of belonging, of purpose, of freedom. But his life is about to change dramatically.

Daniel has been part of this pack for five years, yet he remains an isolated individual, focusing all of his emotional energy on his lust for vengeance. He has no need for friendship, or so believes until he meets twins Joel and Thacia, who come from his town of Ketzah but are relocating to bustling Capernaum. Joel, a rabbi in training, studies the Law intensely but echoes Daniel’s thirst for ridding the land of Romans. Thacia, who shares a deep bond with her brother, is by turns fiery and gentle, and her beauty and bravery flummox the hardened Daniel.

The same day the twins ascend the mountain to gaze over their homeland before their departure, Rosh orders a raid on a caravan. His object? An enormous slave the men laughingly name Samson. Daniel takes charge of him, leading him up the mountain to their camp and using his iron-working skills to remove the chains that confine him. Little does he realize that in so doing, he is binding himself to the seemingly deaf-mute lummox, who thereafter will answer only to him. Samson’s strength makes Daniel’s work in the makeshift forge easier, but it’s uncomfortable for him to feel so tied down to one person. It’s a discomfort he will soon be forced to get used to as his childhood returns to haunt him.

Speare paints a vivid picture of the landscape’s unique sights, sounds and smells, transporting readers to dusty streets and salty shorelines and introducing a people hungry for hope. When they meet again, Daniel, Joel and Thacia take heart in the words of King David, adopting as their mantra, “He trains my hands for war, so that my arms can bend a bow of bronze.” Surely a revolution is coming, and they vow to be ready when it does. But threatening Daniel’s ambitions are the looming reminders of his dying grandmother and his sister Leah, traumatized into apparent madness by the events that lit the fire of vigilantism within Daniel. Can he maintain his distance from his only family for the sake of the cause – especially as doubts about Rosh’s leadership style begin to creep in?

And then there is Jesus. Daniel learns of him from village blacksmith Simon the Zealot. From the moment he first sees him, he is transfixed by his “vital, radiant face, lighted from within by a burning intensity of spirit.” The teacher’s quiet words mesmerize him, but Daniel walks away frustrated. Here is a man who can captivate thousands; each time Daniel goes to see him, the crowd around him seems to expand. An unfathomable power seems to flow from him as he talks of the Kingdom of God. Yet usurping the Romans does not seem to be his agenda. Daniel wonders how a man with such influence can fail to use it for the long-awaited liberation of his people. Or might Jesus offer a different kind of freedom?

First and foremost, this is Daniel’s tale. It is not primarily an account of Christ’s ministry, and Speare sprinkles in encounters with Jesus and his followers, particularly Simon Peter and Andrew, sparingly. The parable of the Good Samaritan, the feeding of the five thousand and the raising of Jairus’s daughter are among the notable Gospel passages that are organically integrated into the story, taking on a renewed potency as seen from the perspective of the teen who just can’t quite make out what this man is all about. Speare keeps dialogue directly involving Jesus to a minimum so that every moment with him feels like a cool drink of water in the midst of a barren landscape of rage and despair.

For nearly a third of his life, Daniel has taken orders from a man who regards compassion as a weakness to be filed away like the heaviest chain conceivable. As new responsibilities take him beyond the mountain and the words of a different kind of leader work their way into his soul, Daniel must carefully consider the true meaning of strength, of courage, of devotion. Is his bond with Samson truly a lamentable burden? Is it frailty to care for his troubled sister, whose sweetness shines out of the shadows just a little more with each passing day? Faced with the prospect of heading up his own faction of revolutionaries, which role model will he follow?

While Speare’s The Sign of the Beaver, which I recently read for the first time, has a straightforward simplicity to it, this novel is considerably longer and more complex, with more characters to keep track of and more twists and turns, not to mention the expert way in which Speare intermingles Daniel’s story with Gospel accounts. Each of the major characters has hopes and aspirations that are tested at various points, but their gravest challenges often come in quiet moments. Despite Daniel’s readiness for a violent uprising, his most grueling battle is internal as he struggles under the weight of a torment that only one person truly seems to understand.

I’m glad that this was the week I read The Bronze Bow. Through the stormy eyes of Speare’s passionate protagonist, I gained a fresh appreciation for what those days must have been like and the soft but forceful ways in which Jesus impacted the lives of those around him. When Daniel and his twin friends first read the psalm that will be such a source of inspiration to them, Thacia speculates that David means “that when God strengthens us we can do something that seems impossible.” Daniel’s own impossible feat is both simpler and more daunting than he ever could have imagined. He cannot do it alone. Neither can we.

My Top Ten Movies of the '70s

The 1970s were just before my time, so I didn't see any of these in the theater, but I easily got caught up in their magic from the comfort of my own home.

Bedknobs and Broomsticks (1971) / Pete's Dragon (1977) - Both of these movies are live-action films that creatively incorporate animation.  In the first, it's in a lengthy sequence of the movie that takes place underwater and then on an island, where the apprentice witch played by Angela Lansbury goes with the children under her care and their new acquaintance Emelius, portrayed by the always-amusing David Tomlinson.  A fun film with enjoyable songs, especially Portabello Road, which I always think of when I read about Harry Potter's first trip to Diagon Alley.  In the second, everything is live-action except the title character, otherwise known as Elliot.  He's the most unintimidating dragon you've ever seen, except when hard-luck orphan Pete is in danger.  The movie has a bittersweet ending, but it's mostly happy.  Mickey Rooney, Red Buttons, Shelly Winters and Jim Dale give hilarious performances, and Helen Reddy beautifully sings Candle on the Water, one of my all-time favorite Disney songs.

Fiddler on the Roof (1971) / Jesus Christ Superstar (1973) - Norman Jewison directed both of these musicals.  The first is about Russian Jews trying to uphold honored traditions while facing oppression in the tiny town of Anatevka.  The songs are outstanding, and Topol is excellent as the robust, philosophical Tevye, who is deeply devoted to God and to his daughters.  The second is filmed in the Holy Land, which is pretty neat, though some of the directorial choices are a little strange, like the costumes that sometimes seem more suited to hippies than ancient Jerusalem dwellers and the tanks that Judas imagines trying to plow him down at one point.  Still, the songs are amazing in this unconventional look at Holy Week, told entirely in song and focusing on Judas's perspective. The extremely energetic Carl Anderson is exhausting to watch as Judas, and Barry Dennen makes a big impression in his few scenes as the conflicted Pilate.

Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory (1971) - I enjoyed Tim Burton's remake of this classic very much, but I'll always have a special place in my heart for the original. Gene Wilder makes a wacky, manipulative Wonka, while Julie Dawn Cole and Roy Kinnear are the most memorable child-parent pair as horrendously spoiled Veruca Salt and her cowed father. My favorite character, however, is Charlie's inept teacher, Mr. Turkentine, hilariously played by David Battley. I also love the Oompa Loompa songs and the vignettes at the beginning of the movie showing what ridiculous behavior Willy Wonka's contest has inspired.

Herbie Rides Again (1974) - My favorite of the Herbie sequels, and I may even prefer it to The Love Bug, though I do miss Buddy Hackett's gold-hearted mechanic, Tennessee. Grandma Steinmetz is just as lovable, though, and has plenty of spunk as she stands up to the comically villainous Alonzo Hawk, played by a deliciously over-the-top Keenan Wynn. This movie has nothing to do with racing; it's just Herbie, with some help from some other curiously animated objects and a couple of human friends, helping sweet Mrs. Steinmetz save the firehouse where she has lived for so many years. A very funny movie.

Young Frankenstein (1974) - As is this, though it's a little more adult-oriented. I watched it for the first time when I was about eight, and I laughed myself silly; I watched it again in high school and couldn't believe how many naughty double entendres were in it. They sailed right over my head at the time, which is one nice thing about this movie; kids can enjoy it as a goofy horror spoof and probably won't pick up on the innuendo. Gene Wilder goes from strictly level-headed to demented in his performance as the scientist trying to resist the associations of the family name, and Marty Feldman is a hoot as his hunchbacked assistant Igor, while Peter Boyle, now most associated with cantankerous Frank on Everybody Loves Raymond, makes a sympathetic monster. Usually I'm not a big fan of black-and-white, but in this case I think director Mel Brooks definitely made the right call.

Monty Python and the Holy Grail (1975) - Throughout high school, several of my friends told me I needed to see this famous spoof. My English teacher even showed it in class one day, but it was the one day that term I happened to be absent. So it wasn't until after high school that I finally saw it, and I understood what all of the fuss was about. This, too, is full of adult humor, and some of it is more overt than in Young Frankenstein. There are also a couple of scenes, particularly one involving a vicious bunny, that could be traumatizing to youngsters. But as an Anglophile who loves the Arthurian legends, I couldn't stop laughing at the antics of King Arthur and his Knights, and when it comes to sheer silliness, this one gives Airplane! a serious run for its money.

The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh (1977) - Given my great fondness for Winnie the Pooh, I couldn't leave this off the list. This humble Disney masterpiece is a combination of three earlier shorts, in which Pooh gets stuck in Rabbit's front door, Piglet loses his house in a dreadful rainstorm and Rabbit plots to rid the Hundred-Acre Wood of the menace that is Tigger. These cozy tales have only the mildest amount of peril, and they paved the way for my all-time favorite cartoon, The New Adventures of Winnie the Pooh.

Star Wars (1977) - This first installment in George Lucas's trilogy is full of classic characters and scenes. Mark Hamill is an endearingly whiny Luke in the film's early moments, while Carrie Fisher's Leia is bossy and Harrison Ford's Han Solo is cynical. They've all got some growing to do, and their first adventures together help them accomplish that. The trash compactor scene is a compact example of the perfect balance the movie strikes between action and comedy. The special effects aren't groundbreaking anymore, but they still draw us into that world, though not as much as iconic characters like R2-D2, C-2PO, Chewbacca, Obi-Wan Kenobi and Darth Vader.

Watership Down (1978) - "It's about bunnies," said LOST's Sawyer in a concise description of the novel from which this animated film was adapted. But that doesn't really begin to cover it. It's about survival, migration, faith, industrialism and all sorts of other things, and while the characters are most definitely rabbits, they have a lot to say about the human condition. It's a surprisingly dark movie, but it's lovely nonetheless, especially the segment that features Art Garfunkel singing Bright Eyes, a somber reflection on grief.

The Muppet Movie (1979) - The musical buddy comedy assembles all of the major players from The Muppet Show for an adventure explaining how they got together. For Muppet fans, this is a must-see. Full of that great mix of humor and heart that makes Jim Henson's creations so irresistible, the movie also features comedic performances by the likes of Steve Martin, Bob Hope, Milton Berle, Richard Pryor and Orson Welles. And of course, the songs are terrific, especially Kermit's banjo-assisted soliloquy, The Rainbow Connection, the quintessential Muppet anthem.

William Paul Young Invites Readers to The Shack

The Shack, a novel by William Paul Young, first caught my attention about a month ago when its cover illustration of a battered wooden cabin infused with light against a snowy landscape leaped out at me from a shelf near the front of the bookstore where I work. It was only a few days later when my mom mentioned that she had bought a copy of it for a friend and decided to get one for my dad as well. Then we turned on the radio to tune into the classic rock station playing nonstop Christmas music, and there was Delilah, endorsing the book on her nighttime program as the best work of fiction she'd read all year. It seemed we had stumbled onto a phenomenon.

It's easy to see why this book would have wide enough appeal to sell upwards of three million copies, as announced by the cover on Dad's copy. We are in trying times. People are suffering, and The Shack seeks to offer comfort in the midst of turmoil. The story concerns Mack, a man who has effectively shut down since the abduction and presumed murder of his six-year-old daughter Missy during a family camping trip. Though he dislikes the way his despair has driven a wedge between him and his wife, Nan, and his four other children, particularly the moody Kate, he can't seem to find a way to escape from underneath what he terms The Great Sadness.

Then, one day three years after the incident, Mack receives a note from "Papa" inviting him to come to the shack deep in the woods where Missy's bloodstained dress was discovered. Mack, mystified, considers the possibilities that it could be a prank or perhaps a lure into a trap set by Missy's killer. But another option nags away at him, refusing to allow him to dismiss the note entirely. "Papa" is the name Nan uses to refer to God - a name he can't bring himself to use since his experiences with his own father were so unpleasant. Could it be that this is a summons from God Himself? That idea is intriguing enough for Mack to seize upon, so while the rest of his family goes to visit relatives, unaware of his plans, he heads up to the site of his greatest anguish.

What follow are 150 surreal pages in which Mack finds the shack and its surrounding area transformed, icy winter made into flowering summer and dilapidation turned into coziness. More important than the scenery, however, is the company: Papa, God the Father, in the likeness of a buxom African-American woman; Sarayu, the Holy Spirit, manifested as a shimmery Asian woman; and Jesus, the Son, a husky Middle-Eastern carpenter. In long conversations with them, together and apart, Mack begins to welcome God back into his life while releasing the pain that has held him captive for so long.

I closed the book with mixed feelings. My first issue with it is one that my dad pointed out as he was reading. It reminded us both of the episode of M*A*S*H in which Radar, the boyish company clerk, decides to take a correspondence course in writing. The result? A whole lot of purple prose overloaded with adjectives, adverbs and other embellishments. The Shack suffers from excessive floweriness, particularly in its first, less dialogue-heavy half, in which every other sentence seems to contain some sort of metaphor. Take this one from the fifth chapter: "And finally his heart exploded like a flash flood, releasing his pent-up anger and letting it rush down the rocky canyons of his emotions." Too much of that becomes exhausting, not to mention cheesy.

On a related note, the story is bookended with a Foreword and After Words by the narrator, a man named Willie who refers to himself in the third person when he shows up in the tale. I found this an odd move and came up with two reasons Young might have used this device. The first would be to account for the often overwrought writing, as Willie is a folksy sort of guy; perhaps he figured readers would be more willing to accept his writing style if it was packaged as an idiosyncratic aspect of a particular character. (Willie also claims that only close friends refer to the main character as Mack, while the rest call him Allen, his middle name, but I don't think anyone in the entire book calls him Allen. An oversight?) The second reason is that the narrator's name just happens to be Willie, so even though this book is labeled a work of fiction, it seems likely that Young would have considered the possibility that some would read the narrator as him. Perusing www.theshackbook.com, the website dedicated to this book, I learned that this novel was originally written only for his children, and initially the cover read "by Mackenzie Allen Phillips, with William P. Young." "I thought it was clever and that the kids would get a laugh out of it," he writes in his blog. So maybe his intentions were not deceptive. But I can't help but think that as the book got out to the public, the framing device may have been what really drew people in. If not for the slight implication that this was based on a true story, the novel might not have generated as much interest.

Finally, the book presents some ideas about God that are pretty unorthodox. Each chapter lays out a number of points that are worth debating, and certain issues will touch different nerves depending on your beliefs and religious background. If Young truly never meant for The Shack to have a wider audience than his immediate family, perhaps the question of intended audience is irrelevant, but I can't decide if the book is aimed more at Christians or non-Christians. It seems to encourage those who don't believe in God to embrace Him while urging Christians to re-examine some of their beliefs about His nature. More than anything, the book is a conversation starter; if it can speak to both ends of the spectrum, then that's probably a good thing. From a Christian perspective - Lutheran, to be exact - my biggest theological issues are with the dismissive treatment of the Bible and of institutional religion. I'm a bit puzzled by one exchange between Mack and Jesus in which Jesus expresses His deep desire for all people to be in a relationship with Him - but He doesn't give two hoots whether a person is a Christian. It seems to me that the sort of deep-seated belief in Christ that Young is talking about is what defines Christianity. Why the insistence on stripping away the label? Also, while I like the book's emphasis on grace, I think it may go too far in one direction, almost suggesting that since we can't live up to God's standards, we shouldn't even try. At one point, Papa says, "Honey, I've never placed an expectation on you or anyone else" and goes on to say that "because I have no expectations, you never disappoint me." I can't buy that.

That isn't to say that The Shack does not have value. It reads like a book that was self-published, so I wasn't surprised by its publication history, and if you think of it primarily as one man's way of helping his family work through a terrible tragedy (the accidental death of his five-year-old niece), it becomes clear that Young is as much a seeker as one attempting to instruct, despite the rather pretentious segment in the back on The Missy Project, which encourages readers to spread the word about the book to others. Personally, I wasn't particularly bothered by the physical portrayal of God. I figure He can appear in any form He chooses - and it's worth noting that over the course of the weekend, Papa also appears as a Hispanic woman and a Caucasian man. The abundance of feminine personas is related to Mack's own daddy issues and isn't meant to imply that God's ultimate essence is a big black woman. It's more like Joan of Arcadia, in which God appears to the teenage Joan in dozens of different guises, depending on the purpose of the conversation. I found it effective there, and I think it works well here too. I also find most of the quotes that begin each chapter to be appropriate and thought-provoking.

The Shack's main emphasis is that God is love, and that's an important message to get across. While some of the things Papa, Sarayu and Jesus say raise eyebrows, either because of the theological content or the manner in which they are said, I can find nothing objectionable in the multiple repetitions of their love for Mack and for so many others in the world. I like the focus on forgiveness and on a personal relationship with God - though I echo Mack in struggling to feel that sense of closeness sometimes, which is why scenes of sitting on the porch with Papa or receiving a bear hug from Jesus are so appealing.

Ultimately, I think The Shack falls short of expectations generated by enthusiastic endorsements by the likes of Delilah, Michael W. Smith and Eugene Peterson, who calls it the next Pilgrim's Progress. However, it's an engaging read, and it's the sort of book that gets readers to ask important questions. I think it would make an excellent subject of a book club or Bible study. As a theological treatise, The Shack shouldn't stand alone, but it might be just the catalyst for which some hurting souls have been waiting.

Ezra Jack Keats Lovingly Illustrates The Little Drummer Boy

I've read many Christmas books inspired by The Little Drummer Boy, the tender song about the poor but earnest lad who is stuck for a gift to give the newborn Jesus until he hits upon the idea of presenting Him with an impromptu concert, complete with animal accompaniment. This mid-sized board book of the same title uses the text of the song by Katherine Davis, Henry Onorati and Harry Simeone, and it works just as well as any of the spin-offs because, short as it is, the little drummer boy's tale is a self-contained story.

What makes the book unique is the artwork by acclaimed illustrator Ezra Jack Keats. The paintings have a smudgy, mystical quality about them, featuring sandy expanses lit by moody skies. The focal point is the young boy, who trots along with his drum, a tall, handsome instrument strapped around his shoulder. The barefoot boy doesn't seem to mind his poverty except for the momentary concern that he will not have anything for the Christ child. As he plays, one imagines that the birds who steadfastly follow him sing along, and his face reflects the exuberance of their joyful noise.

Animals seem naturally drawn to this young chap, as most dramatically illustrated in a two-page spread in which he and a host of creature companions - a cow, sheep, birds, rabbits and a goat - march along, silhouetted in sepia tones against a striking sunset. The book is the perfect size for little hands, with pages sturdy enough to withstand a lot of abuse. While there is no recording of the song included, this is not a hard carol to get ahold of, and for musically inclined parents, sheet music is printed in the back for a family sing-along at the piano.

This is a story of wonder and empowerment that brings the Nativity to a child's-eye level. "Let the little children come," Jesus said. This boy, hearing the call before the words were spoken, responds with reverence, making excellent use of the abilities he has been given. The Little Drummer Boy is an outstanding presentation of an inspiring story.

Compassion Compels Cusick's Christ in The Gospel of John

Back in 2004, I debated whether I would be shirking my duty as a Christian filmgoer if I failed to attend a showing of Mel Gibson's The Passion of the Christ. While I applauded Gibson's determination to craft a film that conveys the extent of Christ's sacrifice, I just didn't think I could stomach watching Jesus take an R-rated beating for three hours, so I passed, though I observed the furor with interest. While articles weighing in on the movie flooded the papers, a quieter film slipped in, scarcely noticed as it stood in the shadow of this long-anticipated epic. What little I read about Philip Saville's The Gospel of John spoke of it favorably enough to pique my interest, but if it ever landed at theaters in Erie, I missed it, and soon I'd forgotten it entirely.

Then, earlier this year, I was visiting the MySpace page of a particularly ardent fan of LOST's Desmond when I saw several stills from The Gospel of John featuring a strangely familiar-looking Jesus. I crinkled my forehead, registering the connection, and rushed to imdb to confirm it. Sure enough, right there on the cast list was Henry Ian Cusick, whose name wouldn't have made a blip on my radar screen in early 2004. Three years later, it was enough to compel me to rent the movie.

Christopher Plummer as the narrator sweetened the deal, as did the PG-13 rating, which promised nothing so graphic as what The Passion had to offer. This week, I returned from the video store toting The Gospel of John, which an employee found for us in the special interest section after our own search yielded nothing. I popped it into the player with some trepidation, knowing I would view the movie differently now than if I'd seen it in the theater. Now I had Desmond clouding my vision, so I feared for my decorum and hoped that at least Cusick would not sound Scottish.

Helpfully, he employs a rather generic "Biblically British" accent, which is distinct enough from his natural speaking voice that if I'd been listening without the visual, I might not have made the connection. That's offset by the fact that in most of his appearances on LOST, Cusick, sporting only slightly less shaggy hair, looks very much like he does here; given the reluctantly messianic role the enigmatic hatch inhabitant has played since the season two finale, I wonder if Damon Lindelof and the gang were hoping some people would make the connection. That reluctance is all but absent in Cusick's performance as Christ. Though hesitation briefly flickers across His features as the crucifixion looms, throughout the bulk of the film there's a profound serenity about Him as He goes about his work, never in doubt as to the path He must follow.

Yet this is a very human Jesus, and there is scarcely a moment on screen when He is not reaching out a hand to comfort or gazing steadily into the eyes of an outcast in an expression brimming with both compassion and challenge. And He smiles, displaying more of his gleaming teeth in three hours than the generally morose Desmond has in two seasons. He exudes genuine joy as he proclaims, "I am the bread of life!" and shoulder-squeezing camaraderie as He selects His startled apostles. There's even laughter, as when He chuckles at Peter's zealous reversal from refusing to have his feet washed to requesting that Jesus also bathe his hands and head. Rage against the hypocrisy of the Pharisees is underplayed, as grimacing diatribes give way to pleas for comprehension.

John Goldsmith's screenplay is taken directly from the Good News version of the fourth Gospel, making this an ideal dramatization to show in church study groups. Because the Good News translation is more noted for readability than poeticism, Goldsmith may have missed an opportunity for some more artful wording, but I suppose he wanted to ensure that the film would be as accessible as possible. As it is, most of the narration is pleasing and the dialogue natural, with the exception of Jesus' repeated exclamation of "I am telling you the truth!" Although I long ago got used to the fourth Gospel's abundant use of the phrase "Truly, truly I say to you," that introductory clause is not nearly so conspicuous as the stand-alone sentence, which smacks slightly of desperation, as though Jesus constantly feels the need to assure His followers that He is not lying to them.

It becomes a catch phrase to listen for, much like the word "brother" from Desmond, showing up mostly in long-winded speeches, some of which are complemented by sepia-tone flashbacks in order add more visual interest. It's in quieter moments when we get the best sense of Jesus, as when He casually converses with the embittered woman at the well, offering her the water of life, or when, after softly suggesting that those without sin cast the first stone, He waits for the angry mob to dissipate before forgiving the adulteress and gently exhorting her to sin no more.

It's hard to say whether we hear more of Cusick or Plummer. There's very little dead silence in this film; if a character isn't speaking, the narrator is, with a warm, rumbling tone to his voice that reflects his reverence for the project, which he expresses in one of the special features, as does Cusick, who explains that he tried to portray the Christ he grew up with. The only times the narration feels awkward are when Plummer explains something that was just said and then states, "This is why he said..." before repeating the line. It doesn't happen very many times, but there's a sense of superfluity to it that could have been avoided with the snipping of a few sentences. While Plummer usually isn't an interfering presence in the midst of dialogue, he is most effective in lengthy voice-overs accompanied by Miroslaw Baszak's stirring cinematography, which captures the excitement Jesus generates and the beauty of the natural world, even in the midst of dusty expanse. Especially impressive is the scene in which Jesus walks on the water toward his fishing disciples, the tumultuous storm around him subsiding with each step.

None of the actors from the extensive supporting cast are familiar to me, and there's the usual trouble of keeping the robed and bearded apostles straight when they are rarely directly addressed as individuals. Doe-eyed Stuart Bunce is charming as the devoted John, upon whom the camera lingers last before the credits roll, while Daniel Kash strikes just the right chord as bumbling Peter. The inclusion of Thomas' (Andy Velasquez) proposal to follow Jesus to Jerusalem and die with Him there provides some vindication for the much-maligned doubting disciple, whose reunion with Jesus is among the most touching moments in the film, while Alan Van Sprang's Judas is as shifty as I've ever seen him.

Stephen Russell's Pontius Pilate is initially formidable but increasingly faltering as he runs out of options in attempting to spare Jesus an unwarranted execution, while Diego Matamoros portrays Nicodemus as a man of wisdom and courage who stands up to his fellow authorities after becoming convinced of Jesus' divinity. Other standouts include Lynsey Baxter as Mary Magdalene, Stuart Fox as the man to whom Jesus restores sight, Miriam Brown as Martha and Scott Handy as John the Baptist.

For those intimidated by the film's three-hour length, the two-disc DVD includes a two-hour-long version, but I'd recommend the theatrical cut, which remains engaging to the ending that comes a solid ten minutes or so after the risen Christ's first appearance. The trial and crucifixion are not skimmed over, but we see the gruesome flogging only in shadow, and the nailing to the cross occurs off-screen, so the violence is kept to a minimum. Rather than emphasizing the agony of those scenes, the focus is on the "good news" inherent in the ordinary, extraordinary person of Jesus, "the resurrection and the life." Embrace it.

A Musical Journey Through the Life of Jesus

When I was in second grade, my uncle first introduced my dad to Michael Card with The Life. He proceeded to play it prolifically, and I soon fell in love with collection of spiritually stirring songs, to the point that I was scrupulously transcribing the lyrics into my notebook so I could carry them around with me all day. This was only the first of many albums which we would purchase. Additionally, my dad went on to get me two piano books -- one of which was for this album -- and to purchase several of Card's books. He even devoted a Bible study series to Card's music.

I continue to regard Michael Card as one of the most talented composers and poets I have encountered, not to mention a very powerful example of a Christian witness. In this album, Card chronicles the life of Jesus (hence the title), from before He was born until after He ascended. The two-disc album covers a variety of musical styles ranging from meditative to joyful to harsh to gentle. Each song is masterfully crafted, and it's a shame they don't get more air time. Admittedly, I more frequently listen to classic rock or oldies stations on the radio, but I've spent enough time on Christian radio stations to know I'm much more likely to hear Michael W. Smith, Jars of Clay, or DC Talk. And I don't think I've ever heard one of the songs from this album on the radio.

The album begins with Overture to the Trilogy, a long instrumental piece incorporating the melodies of several songs on the album and ending with Card cantoring the first lines of John a capella. "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. And the Word became flesh (and the word became flesh) and dwelt among us." This segues directly into The Promise, a quiet tune about how Jesus was not what anyone expected. "The Promise showed their wildest dreams had simply not been wild enough."

Immanuel is a very long song, and one of Michael Card's most famous. While The Promise is more guitar-intensive, Immanuel leans heavily on strings to give the richest possible flavor to the message "our God is with us, and if God is with us, who can stand against us?". Also contains a classic example of Card's love affair with alliteration when he describes Jesus as "a human baby bearing undiminished deity".

Carmen Christi, To the Mystery and The Final Word all are pretty upbeat, dealing alternatively with the nature of Christ and our response to it. While To the Mystery acknowledges our inability to fully grasp who Jesus is, instructing us to "give up on (y)our pondering and fall down on (y)our knees", the others shed light on who Jesus is. "At Jesus' name every knee shall bow in Heaven and in all the Earth. To the Father's glory, each tongue cry 'Jesus is Lord'..." (Carmen Christi) "He spoke the incarnation and then so was born the Son. His Final Word was Jesus, he needed no other one." (The Final Word).

Spirit of the Age is one of the harsh ones, warning against the force of evil which seeks to draw us in. This song matches the mood of the final three selections, Scandalon, describing Jesus in prophecy as "the truth who will offend us one and all, a stone to make them stumble and a rock to make them fall", What Will it Take to Keep You from Jesus, which answers its question with "a simple excuse from a heart that is hard, a reason that's nothing at all", and The Lamb is a Lion, which shows God "roaring with rage at the empty religion that's filling His days".

Celebrate the Child, which follows Spirit of the Age, jubilantly proclaims the arrival of the savior who will bring the world out of darkness into light. Joseph's Song is a beautiful meditation sung in the person of Joseph, who wonders "how can a man be father to the son of God?". Jesus Let us Come to Know You is a simple but lovely lullaby expressing a desire to know Jesus as fully as possible.

Meditation/Baptism is the last track on this disc before the aforementioned three. This, like the album's first track, is instrumental, and it also refers to other songs on the album.

The second disc is concerned primarily with Jesus' ministry, death, and resurrection. The Wedding recalls the miracle of changing the water into wine at Cana while also working in a contemporary context, inviting Jesus to be present at the ceremony which signals the start of a new life for both man and wife. "Lord of Light, please come to this wedding. Chase the doubt and darkness away. Turn the water of lifeless living to the wine of gladness we pray."

The Nazarene is a fairly simple song which demonstrates how human Jesus was despite -- or because of -- his divinity. "The fact of his humanity was there for all to see, for He was unlike any other man and yet so much like me." The Gentle Healer is perhaps the simplest song on the album, and certainly very gentle. Sung in a cappela, it shows how the perceptions of His followers changed from their initial characterization of Him as a "gentle healer" to their ultimate conclusion that He is "the Truth, the Light, the Way".

Forgiving Eyes, is a gorgeous song for the piano whose verses start out despairing but eventually swell into the hopeful chorus, signalled by a key change. It is sung from the perspective of the woman about to be stoned for adultery when Jesus interceded. "Just when I saw Him, the hope I had lost became born again. I was not hopeless. Though I'd been lost, now I felt I was found when He looked at me with those forgiving eyes."

God's Own Fool is likewise an excellent piece for the piano, and it introduces one of Card's favorite themes: paradox. Additionally, it is one of the few songs in his repertoire which Card sings falsetto. I can, in fact, only think of one other instance, though there may be more. The song weighs the way Jesus must have appeared to His worldly contemporaries against His divine reality, encouraging us to embrace the latter. "So we follow God's own fool that only the foolish can tell. Believe the unbelievable; come be a fool as well."

Why employs the classic question-and-answer song format to demand why Jesus had to go through what He did, from the betrayal by his friend to the thorns to the cross. Each response provides an eloquent and convincing reason, culminating in the notion that "Jesus had come into the world to steal every heart away".

Known by the Scars and Traitor's Look are both pretty intense. The former refers to Jesus' appearance before the apostles and His method of convincing Thomas of His true identity. The latter is a diatribe against Judas which ends in the startling confession that many of us have betrayed Jesus ourselves in our ordinary lives.

Ride on to Die and In the Garden are the most mournful songs on this album. The first sees past the jubilation of the moment (Palm Sunday) to the agony that will follow, while the second hints at the jubilation that will follow the current agony in the garden of Gethsemane.

Come to the Table is neither gloomy nor harsh, but it encourages Jesus' apostles to savor this Last Supper together, warning that "the One who is breaking the bread soon will be broken". Cross of Glory progresses to the scene of Jesus death, noting with increasing joy the significance of His sacrifice.

Finally, He Was Heard, Crown Him, and Joy in the Journey are all triumphant in their own right, jubilantly acknowledging that Christ has won the victory. Crown Him is the most exuberant of the three, while Joy in the Journey, which concludes the album, is soothing and reflective, remarking on the happiness inherent in a life lived with the Lord.

Quite an impressive undertaking, not only for Card but for the listeners as well. Card's compositions challenge us to think more deeply about our faith and the events of scripture, encouraging us to visit our Bibles often. Other albums contain songs about the life of Jesus, particularly his Christmas albums, and Card has also extensively covered portions of the Hebrew Scriptures and of Revelation and Hebrews, not to mention some songs which are not taken directly from scripture. But I consider this the most essential of his albums. Start with The Life, and let the music continue to impact your own life.

Just in Time for Easter

As Easter approaches, this movie is a great one to pick up to get you in the spirit of the season. This energetic retelling of the last week of Jesus' life is more powerful as a play, but as a video it holds its own. Sung in its entirety, J.C. Superstar features a cast of rock singers with bizarre costumes.

For the most part, this Andrew Lloyd Weber-Tim Rice production stays true to the story, though they put a very different spin on it. Instead of focusing on Jesus, they attempt to show us the Passion of Christ through the eyes of Judas. A tortured individual, he believes that it will be to the betterment of his people to turn Jesus in to the authorities. Filled with remorse after the deed, he wonders if Jesus could still love him after his betrayal. Then he hangs himself, later confronting Jesus in limbo, in our current time, asking if he thought it was all worth it.

The music makes this movie. Similar musical themes run throughout, giving different songs the same tune. All are memorable, from the tender I Don't Know How to Love Him to the hilarious Herod's Song to the hesitantly triumphant title number. As that's the only dialogue in this movie, you almost might do just as well to simply buy the soundtrack.

There are so many absurd costumes in this movie, and the dances which go along with some of the songs are downright disturbing. As for the props...the scene in the temple includes everything from postcards to firearms. Herod's palace includes a huge swimming pool, a honky-tonk piano, and a big basket of bagels which he throws at Jesus. And in Judas' delusions, he sees himself being chased by tanks and B2 bombers.

All anachronisms aside, this is an interesting modern treatment of a sacred story which millions across the globe consider to be true. The music makes it entertaining and accessible to all manners of people in our young generation. Everyone should see this production at least once. It is highly preferable to see it in the theater, but if your local theater can't accommodate then give the video a shot.