Jesus is a Rock Star . . .
I had a revelation at the Pearl Jam concert a few nights ago: Jesus is a Rock Star. Yup, you heard me. I'm not trying to be weird or neurotic or anything like that, but I've found that there are just too many similarities to ignore. I mean, even the writer of Jesus Christ Superstar knew the truth. Live once had a song about it; I think the title was "Rock Star Messiah" . . . ? Went something like, "Jesus gave up the world, but who could give up the stage?"
My reasoning for this revelation? Simply this:
I was watching the crowd, how they reacted to the band, how they totally forgot themselves for a few hours, their bodies jirating with the music that these musicians were creating with mere tools. Carpenters of music, these musicians were. The audience listened . . . and worshiped.
There is a sense of both selflessness when one listens, and yet, in every song, you can see something of your own life. Songs, like stories in a bible. You pull out the moral, apply, and live. When you hear the song, you hurt, or you feel joy. You empathize. A song can be a savior.
If you think of Christ's deeds as being a life-long career, compare that to the life of a musician. A musician cannot escape his work. Wherever one goes, there are people demanding more word-laced and musical "miracles". People asking to have their pain eased, to have their joy peaked, and then some.
With other careers, you are making a product that you might or might not feel any passion for. And more than that, you feel nearly nothing for the consumer that will eventually use this product. With Jesus's "career" he loved nothing more than his people. Does a musician love anything more than his fans?
I could go on and on, not quite touching what I really felt when I was listening to Pearl Jam's songs and observing the phenomenon that is good music.
There are two very special things in this world. One is religion, the other is music. It's unfortunate that most people only seem to recognize one or the other.
One other unsettling, misfit comment about the Pearl Jam concert. I do believe that was my last concert. It just doesn't seem right when your favorite artist no longer plays your favorite song . . . I try not to think about how this might apply to my revelation.
My reasoning for this revelation? Simply this:
I was watching the crowd, how they reacted to the band, how they totally forgot themselves for a few hours, their bodies jirating with the music that these musicians were creating with mere tools. Carpenters of music, these musicians were. The audience listened . . . and worshiped.
There is a sense of both selflessness when one listens, and yet, in every song, you can see something of your own life. Songs, like stories in a bible. You pull out the moral, apply, and live. When you hear the song, you hurt, or you feel joy. You empathize. A song can be a savior.
If you think of Christ's deeds as being a life-long career, compare that to the life of a musician. A musician cannot escape his work. Wherever one goes, there are people demanding more word-laced and musical "miracles". People asking to have their pain eased, to have their joy peaked, and then some.
With other careers, you are making a product that you might or might not feel any passion for. And more than that, you feel nearly nothing for the consumer that will eventually use this product. With Jesus's "career" he loved nothing more than his people. Does a musician love anything more than his fans?
I could go on and on, not quite touching what I really felt when I was listening to Pearl Jam's songs and observing the phenomenon that is good music.
There are two very special things in this world. One is religion, the other is music. It's unfortunate that most people only seem to recognize one or the other.
One other unsettling, misfit comment about the Pearl Jam concert. I do believe that was my last concert. It just doesn't seem right when your favorite artist no longer plays your favorite song . . . I try not to think about how this might apply to my revelation.