Very slightly SLASHY.
If you don't like/approve of it, then don't read on, it's as simple as that. Based on the DVD version of Jesus Christ Superstar (2000) i.e. Jerome Pradon's Judas… swoon
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I do not own Jesus Christ Superstar (seriously- my DVD is borrowed 0o- roll on Xmas!) or 'In this World' by Good Charlotte.
A Mother Knows
They are there as a lesson. As I draw water from the well for myself and my husband, I can see them all to clearly. A row of crosses on the road at the edge of our town, men dying in agony. We all know silently that they are petty criminals at best. The only crime they have committed is to not be born Roman. And so we are reminded that we too are guilty of this crime; we can be punished in the same way. I hurry home tonight, avoiding the sound of their moans through the gentle slosh of the water jug on my shoulder.
As the night draws in, the shadows stretch from the crosses, in grotesque parody of a sundial. I shudder to see them silhouetted in the bloody sunset. I'm glad to reach home, and the sweet scent of sawdust that means Joseph is home too. It's a strange evening, the town more subdued than usual.
Every time I hear footsteps outside the door my heart jumps just a little. Silly I know, but a mother's right. He fooled me this time though- two sets of footsteps! In a moment the room is softer, so even as I turn I know that he is standing in the doorway. I rise with arms out-stretched in greeting and he envelopes me in a hug. I still remember when it was the other way around, long ago as that was! Whatever else he may be, he is my son.
The two sets of footsteps? He never had any trouble making friends, with anyone. The dark-haired stranger owning the second pair of footsteps is Judas. Guarded eyes and a half smile in greeting don't quite hide his discomfort at what he seems to feel is intruding in our home. I get the feeling that he never lets down his guard terribly much though. As we sit he seems to relax a little, and I'm sure I see my son give him a half-scolding, half-amused look to relax properly, and he does…
They met on the road some months ago Jesus says. I think to myself that it's a short time in which to be so comfortable together.
I wondered for a moment then.
Dusk pours in, molten purple across the skies. I move to fetch more water for the evening and extra guests, knowing even as I stand that Jesus will snatch the jug from me. It only occurs to me after he has gone that he might not have seen the crosses. Perhaps, somehow, he won't… the slam of the water jug not five minutes later kills that hope. As I turn, he is framed in the doorway. Usually warm blue eyes flash steel. He has seen the men.
He falters for a moment and I know that he wants me to tell him it's alright, as I did when he was a child; but now as an adult he can't pretend to believe my platitudes. Turning in a furious and swift move, he paces up the sandstone stairs to the flat rooftop. From the side Judas watches in dark-eyed silence, and I realise instinctively that he had already known, and somehow he had kept Jesus from seeing earlier. He protects my son as I would myself.
At the first ethereal note we turn to the stairway simultaneously, and pad up the roughly hewn steps. He is staring in the direction of the crosses, singing as though his heart is breaking.
In this world
All of our sins are simple
We choose death over innocent life
And in this world
It's not our money that's evil-
It's the ones who choose it over life
And in my heart, I cannot believe in this murder
And I will not be fed by the lies, or the life,
That is created, just to be murdered,
It's murder!
He paces and turns, leaning now into a sermon, but his eyes are distraught and I no longer know the words to comfort my son, now a full-grown man with the same child-like hurt. Judas has sat carelessly against the far wall, but he looks only at Jesus and sings softly-
No matter how hard they try and
No matter how loud they cry
They can't buy their way into heaven
No matter how hard they try and
No matter how high they climb up the ladder
They won't reach up into heaven
It is questionable if my son has even listened, as he turns back to us eyes still bright with anger.
And they can't see…
The innocent lives,
The pointless suffering.
And in my heart I want to undo all this murder,
And give back the innocent lives,
Open cages and stop their luxurious murder,
It's murder!
His gaze wanders out across the town, then up again to the sky in a plea for understanding. Judas hasn't moved, but he repeats his previous words, his head cocked slightly to one side, eyes on Jesus who refuses to return the gaze.
No matter how hard they try and
No matter how loud they cry,
They can't buy their way into heaven.
No matter how hard they try and
No matter how hard they climb up the ladder,
They won't reach up into heaven.
The anger doesn't fade but meets with anguish in equal force across his features as he turns back from the sky to the horizon, almost shouting his words into the sleepy streets-
Murder!
Innocent life!
Innocent-
What have we done?
No mercy for beautiful…
No matter how hard they try and
Money for blood
No matter how loud they cry
Is murder / They can't buy their way into heaven
Judas lowers his eyes in a brief flicker of frustration, jaw tightening momentarily, and stands in a fluid movement repeating his words a third time, the melodies inter-tangling in the balmy air and finally my son's shoulder's sink a little, he is silent as he listens for the first time-
No matter how hard they try and
No matter how loud they cry,
They can't buy their way into heaven.
No matter how hard they try and
No matter how hard they climb up the ladder,
They won't reach up into heaven.
My son will finally meet his look, and there is an empathy there that makes me feel suddenly an uncomfortable onlooker. His head drops to Judas' shoulder in defeat, or misery, and in return he tentatively puts a comforting arm around his neck, hand resting in my son's blond curls. Judas continues to repeat the melody as softly as a lullaby, and I see the same warmth in his eyes that I know my own hold when I look upon my son.
I moved back down towards the stairs quietly, feeling Judas' eyes follow me. I don't know how my son ignored it for so long. But I stopped and turned at the top step and smiled warmly at Judas. I think I've just met someone who would die before he saw my son hurt, how can I not be happy? His eyes looked unsure for the second before he glanced down somewhat guiltily, and I'm sure the faintest hint of a blush appeared- which made me smile all the wider. I probably terrified the poor man.
But I knew then.
-End-
Make a poor, over-worked student smile. Review
AN: In case anyone noticed, this story was posted under a different username- I haven't stolen it though! Basically I'm not religious, but my parents are and unlikely as it is they might have read this…and got pretty freaked out! So I decided it was easier to start a new account where I can slash to my heart's content