Rector's Blog: Inspired

That’s when I saw the movie Batman on opening night. Front row. I remember seeing the posters for this movie, and I remember that Michael Keaton was playing Batman. And I remember that some guy named “Nicholson” was playing the Joker. I remember this because I had no idea who he was, but his name was on the poster, and it came before Keaton’s, and that seemed wrong to me. How could the guy playing the villain get higher billing than the guy playing Batman? And then the lights went down and Jack showed up and everything made sense. I was transfixed. I was inspired. Nicholson. Jack! I knew right then that I wanted to be an actor.

Of course, I’m not an actor. I’m a priest. But Nicholson had a profound influence on my life. I mean, I was a good little fundamentalist Christian, so his fast-living reputation was not really for me growing up. But he had this way about him that just bowled me over. He seemed always to be utterly himself in whatever he did – even while convincingly playing fantastic characters. He was the Joker, or McMurphy, or J.J. Gittes, or Col. Jessup, or Melvin Udall, but at the same time he was Jack! And I loved that. When I was in college, my buddy Wes and I visited Hollywood and made our film lover’s pilgrimage to Grauman’s Chinese Theater. This is the spot where many famous actors have put their hand and foot prints into the cement. I got down on my knees in front of Jack’s signature and placed my hands in his handprints. They fit perfectly. Wes’ hands fit in James Stewart’s. We floated away.

It's a strange thing to call someone your inspiration when you haven’t actually followed in their footsteps. A few years back I was at a concert and I ran into a comedian named Emo Phillips. He is not terribly famous, but when I was younger I had seen a stand-up special of his that was so absurd and outlandish that it had turned my idea of comedy upside down. I walked up to him that night and introduced myself. He was very gracious. I told him that he had been a big inspiration to me growing up. “Is that so?” he asked, “what do you do?” I said I was a priest, and without missing a beat he said, “Well obviously.”

I don’t think of this as a contradiction or inconsistency. Seeing someone be unabashedly absurd was liberating for me, just like seeing someone be unabashedly themself. It didn’t matter that I had not become an actor or a comedian: I could locate something of myself in them, and something of them within me. And when that happens to you, you feel less alone in this world. In this way inspiration is connected to courage. Because when someone inspires you, you are emboldened, empowered to be yourself. This is a great gift.

I wonder what it’s like to think of Jesus as an inspiration. I apologize if that transition made you cringe. I am aware of how Christians like me always make things religious. You ask us what our favorite book is and we feel like we have to say the Bible. And you roll your eyes and think, “Well, ok, but have you ever actually read something by Toni Morrison?” But that’s how I grew up. You ask me who my hero is, and I was programmed to say, “You mean besides Jesus?” I once mentioned in a sermon that I sung my kids to sleep with the song “A Hole in the Bucket.” Afterwards someone came up to me and said, “But what about Jesus Loves Me?”

So I’m sorry for bringing Jesus into this, but stick with me.

Christians so often talk about worshiping Jesus or believing in Jesus or following Jesus. And I am a Christian who tries to do all those things. But let’s hold off on those here for a moment. What if instead of holding Jesus up on a pedestal we actually allowed ourselves to be influenced by him? The way Nicholson influenced me. The way Etta James influenced Adele. To look at the accounts we have of Jesus and be attentive to his attitude, his style, his genre, the character of his work. His personality.

Shortly after Jesus becomes famous, he returns to his home synagogue, picks up the scroll, and reads the words of the prophet Isaiah, proclaiming freedom to the prisoner, and sight to the blind, and liberation for the oppressed and then looks at all these people who knew him when he was a snot-nosed kid and says, “Isaiah was talking about me.” Forget obedience – I’m inspired by his audacity.

Jesus is a rabbi who picks as his students fishermen, tax collectors, and unwed women. He heals one man by spitting in his eye. He stands between a woman and her executioners and calls them all hypocrites. He tells people their success and ambition is empty in comparison to the joy of serving those who cannot advance your career or pay you back. He tells stories about how meritocracy is garbage and God’s grace is unreasonable. He takes naps during rainstorms and ghosts crowds when they get too clingy. He argues with his mom and then does what she says anyway.

Sometimes I think we let our reverence for Jesus get in the way of our ability to be inspired. To let him influence us. To see something of ourselves in him, and something of him in ourselves.

Jesus is killed for telling the truth. And while he’s being killed he looks upon the people who are killing him and asks for their forgiveness. He doesn’t excuse their actions. He doesn’t relativize what’s happening or appeal to civility or moderation. He forgives them. He dies loving.

Jesus comes back to life. And the first thing he does is find the people who abandoned him so he can tell them they are loved. I want to love like that. Not so I can go to Heaven when I die: But so I can be more fully myself while I live.

I didn’t worship Jack Nicholson and I didn’t want to be him. I loved him. And I still love him. Because he helped me see me. My hands fit into his. What a joy. I worship Jesus. And I seek to be obedient. And I want to follow in his foosteps. But sometimes I just want my hands to fit into his.