Passion Play

The last play I saw was Godspell at Theatre Memphis. A couple nights later, Jesus instant messaged me on Gay.com and invited me to come over. Let the record show that I did not get freaky with Jesus.

Last night, I saw Corpus Christi, and I think God winked at me. As the actors milled around the stage before the play started, God seemed awfully nice as he passed by.

The lesson: Stop seeing local productions with religious themes, because I already have enough issues with religion. And I certainly don't need to deal with the perception that the Father and the Son, and maybe even the Virgin Mary, want to get in my pants.

The other lesson: Maybe I get carried away with the whole "suspension of belief" thing.

Despite whatever issues I might have with God and religion, and regardless how blasphemous Corpus Christi was supposed to be (there were protesters outside the theatre tonight...well, only two), I did indeed feel a little like the Prodigal Son returning home.

Corpus Christi is a retelling of the life of Christ, if Christ had been born Joshua, a gay man in Texas. Joshua develops a, um, gaggle-like group of 12 friends, and they travel the countryside performing miracles and teaching a message of love, kindness and tolerance eventually being persecuted by the Christian conservatives.

Like the playwright explains in the opening lines, this is a story that's been told time and time again, and there are no surprises. We know how the story ends. But it presents some interesting and amusing "what if's?"

What if Judas was pissed off because he couldn't have Joshua/Jesus to himself? What if Joshua healed Phillip the Hustler of HIV and Phillip joined the Apostles? What if James and Bartholomew were a committed couple and Jesus performed their ceremony? What if Joshua and the Apostles danced under a disco ball to Cher's Love One Another?

Well, I was surprised at how moved I was during the final moments. Unlike Brokeback Mountain, I managed to keep the deep whimpering sobs in check, but I still had tears streaming down my left cheek. I can't explain what it was that moved me to tears.

Actually, I'm kinda glad that I can cry just because the elastic is shot in my pantyhose. I can cry at the drop of a hat these days. At least for the last week, I've been highly emotional, and I credit it to a week without seeing Lexi. The vertigo seems to have passed, and I'm left with raw emotion. Which is kind of nice and scary at the same time.

Maybe the Lexi withdrawals allowed me to have a religious experience last night. Whether it was the play or the play assisted by Lexapro leaving my body, I really did enjoy it.