In case anyone missed the memo, I have a minor obsession with the musical Sweeney Todd. I have tried to articulate why many times, but nothing quite hits the mark. It has to do with when and how it came into my life and the effect that had (aka: it's why I do theater), it has to do with what I knew of musical theater before and what I know now, it has to do with my music taste, it has to do with the breadth of emotion, it has to do with the brilliant use of the traditional Dies Irae theme… and I think I'll never be able to quite pin the attraction down, much in the same way that lovers can't quite articulate why they are in love. But Sweeney and I have been going strong for 11 years now.
The thing I usually say is that I fell in love with the characters. Every single one of them I could identify with and love. Each flawed, each struggling, each trying, each with something redemptive inside of them. While the joke(/truth) is that I'm most often like Toby, I feel for all of them, am like all of them, and adore all of them.
Even Judge Turpin.
Judge Turpin is the closest thing we have to a true villain in this show. Many people act despicably, but it's Judge Turpin that is the "bad guy" throughout the show, and many known productions (and the movie) keep it that way. But there's a song, written for the original production but left out-- it was performed at the first preview but didn't fit within the director's vision for the show and was cut. It has since been restored and though it's not in the 1982 DVD with Angela Lansbury and George Hearn or the Tim Burton film, you can see it on the 2001 San Francisco Symphony concert DVD with Patti LuPone and George Hearn. (or you can watch one of my favorite versions here... except it's in Catalan.) The song is the Judge's "Johanna".
It's the most awkward song to talk about, and I probably won't ever be able to use it as a sermon illustration. (Though I did write a paper on it in high school.) For those of you who are unfamiliar with Sweeney Todd, 15 years before the show, the Judge, coveting the wife of a simple barber, Benjamin Barker, has Barker sent to a penal colony on a false charge, and takes the wife by force, who then poisons herself. In a moment of guilt and mercy, the Judge takes in the year-old, now orphaned daughter as his ward. In the timeframe of the musical, however, the girl is now 16, and the Judge begins to lust after her. The song begins with the Judge singing a "mea culpa", and throughout the song he both prays for his deliverance and practices self-flagellation, which only increases his lust.
There are two major schools of interpretation of this song. One pushes the Judge further into villain category, interpreting intent from the beginning of the song as using the scourging for pleasure. The other realm of interpretation is that he begins this song truly repentant, but the act of his self-punishment turns on him, despite his good intentions. This is the school I subscribe to, because it's much more interesting and paints a far more human picture. Also, if you look at the Christopher Bond version of Sweeney Todd (the version that was the direct source material for the Sondheim), there's a monologue corresponding to this song that is pretty directly connected to this line of interpretation. This monologue includes what I think is the most heartbreaking line in the entire play: "Heaven mocks my penitence, and turns my one good act into mockery."
Today is Ash Wednesday, which marks the beginning of Lent, a season of preparation looking forward Easter. While Advent, our other main season of waiting (before Christmas) was marked with anticipation and hope, Lent can seem a little less magical. Lent is described with words like "self-denial" "fasting" "repentance". Lent is like getting kicked in the spiritual behind. For 40 days. And we plunge into it by being visibly reminded of our mortality and our sin. The tradition of the imposition of ashes (being marked with a cross of ashes on our foreheads) grew out of several traditions regarding preparing people for baptism, and atoning for sins. It is now common for churches (not just Catholic churches) to begin Lent with these symbols.
Of course, the ashes, crossed onto our foreheads with the words, "Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return," are a reminder that we are mortals, doomed to sin and death. Ashes are also the remains of the "sackcloth and ashes" tradition, where people would wear course clothing and ashes in times of mourning or deep repentance. But what you may not be aware of if you don't step into the church on Ash Wednesday and hear the reading, is we are sinning THROUGH the practice of Ash Wednesday.
Our lesson today is from Matthew 6:1-6, 16-21:
"Beware of practicing your piety before others in order to be seen by them; for then you have no reward from your Father in heaven. So whenever you give alms, do not sound a trumpet before you, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets, so that they may be praised by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward. But when you give alms, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, so that your alms may be done in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you. And whenever you pray, do not be like the hypocrites; for they love to stand and pray in the synagogues and at the street corners, so that they may be seen by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward. But whenever you pray, go into your room and shut the door and pray to your Father who is in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you. And whenever you fast, do not look dismal, like the hypocrites, for they disfigure their faces so as to show others that they are fasting. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward. But when you fast, put oil on your head and wash your face, so that your fasting may be seen not by others but by your Father who is in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you. Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust consume and where thieves break in and steal; but store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust consumes and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also."
Oof.
So on the day where we as a church get together to repent by bearing our sin on ourselves, publicly… we are told we should instead be doing this in secret. On the day where we disfigure our faces, we are told not to disfigure our faces. Even in our trying to repent, we sin. Just like Judge Turpin. All those theological quandaries about the human condition, the fall of man, total depravity, are summed up in this liturgical act: how we sin even in our repentance.
So where do we go from here?
What breaks my heart about Judge Turpin is he gives up. He finds a legal loophole, smooths away the problem by pledging to marry Johanna in order to "sanctify" his lust. In the Bond, he says, "We must be what we are. I cannot change." It is the easy way--finding some way to smooth over our imperfections, finding some logistical or practical or (dare I say it) even theological way out. It is easy to simply continue coasting along, instead of traveling down the difficult road towards change. Towards the cross. That's the road of Lent.
Lent, simply speaking, is a time where we take stock and see that we are so far from perfect it seems foolish to try. But we are fools, striving towards perfection, and we will walk together along this impossible road, working to become as good as we can.
No comments:
Post a Comment