My Godspell Sister

On Friday morning, I sent my siblings a group text, reminding them of their afternoon responsibilities: "It's Good Friday, everyone. Be home by 2 O'clock. There will be sardines and matzo crackers and vinegar. Meg will be reading from the Passion of the Christ. Don't expect to be out until after dinner." 

It was intended as a reminder of those distant Good Fridays, when my mother would insist that we gather at the kitchen table for a painfully long afternoon, reliving the Passion through New Testament readings and her own invented props, like tasting vinegar.

My mother would make us walk with Jesus across the pages. We'd read assigned passages and roll our eyes when she wasn't looking. The clock on our lime-green kitchen wall ticked with agonizing slowness on those afternoons.

They weren't good Fridays then - but they seem so now.  

And so, after sending that text, I began thinking about those afternoons. I searched YouTube for songs I remembered about Good Friday and Easter. I found a few from Jesus Christ Superstar and Godspell.  As I listened, they made me feel things I had long forgotten. I wondered how those feelings - and beautiful songs - had so slipped from my memories.

But I knew why. It was about Godspell.

In 1970, John-Michael Tebelak wrote Godspell as part of his Master's Thesis at Carnegie-Mellon. Stephen Schwartz, an alumni, re-wrote the musical score and it opened off Broadway. The rest is 70's pop and folk history.

My sister loved Godspell. It was so fitting. She was an artistic, creative, musical soul. She was the real-life version of the girl with flowers in her hair, singing and dancing with Jesus. I'm sure she had already envisioned Jesus in a Superman tee shirt and suspenders.

While many people could never see John baptizing followers in a New York City fountain, she could. Hers was a true soul; a cosmic karma destined to be loved - and to love.

In the 70's, I remember her in fringed gypsy shirts and bell bottoms. Her full blonde hair; enviously everywhere. She was always ready to dance and skip with John the Baptist in the fountain waters.

Her entourage of high school friends were inseparable and unstoppable from the 1970's until a just a few years ago.

On that gloomy January day when we said goodbye, her friends planned a secret farewell song. At the end of the ceremony, as the tears fell, the words, "Prepare Ye, the Way of the Lord," began. It was part sadness, part happiness.

An ending that we are taught, like Good Friday, was really a beginning in disguise. Listening to that song, it was impossible not to feel thankful for her. For her love and charisma. In the music, we could almost see her in her bell bottoms and flowers in her hair. Laughing and dancing with her friends.

My mind must place those memories protectively. But on Friday, I heard her music and I did remember.

It was Godspell.

And God spelled it C-A-T-H-Y.