Pav, Superstar

In my quest to continue to expand my DVD library, and expand my children’s screen input past Cartoon Network and Noggin (not bashing cartoons at all though), I finally purchased a copy of Jesus Christ Superstar off eBay a few weeks ago. I had seen in plenty of times in the past, and since Yvonne Elliman sang the best disco song ever, you know I love the soundtrack. I have a tendency to run around the house singing, “What the f***, tell me what’s a’happenin!” It had been sitting around the house, unopened, while I fed my head with Will and Grace reruns and Margaret Cho while the kids were on vacation. So finally, last night after ramen, I ordered Amy to my room and the boy to the bath, also in my room.

As the first guitar riffs start, Amy declares her interest. I usually don’t steer her wrong, but she doesn’t entirely trust my taste in musicals since I forced her to sit through 1776 too early in life. From the open bathroom, the boy asks what we’re watching. I tell him it’s like Veggie Tales, without the animated vegetables. After a bit more of the music, he decides he’s clean, even though he had brought his two newest Star Wars action figures in there to keep him company. He then proceeds to stand dripping in his towel outside the bathroom door, for a five minutes staring at the screen.

This is where I should volunteer a bit more background. I’m not a Christian. That sentence and its implications have cost me a lot in my life. I’ve learned through the years not to wear my faith around my neck, both literally and figuratively. It rarely gains me anything to be open, and out of the broom closet. But note that I’m not ashamed of who I am. I mentally challenge myself on a regular basis to determine if I’m on the right path, and for know, I’m confident I am.

Also, I’m of Sicilian descent, which means, I was originally brought up in the Catholic faith. I still find the churches to be works of art, and the ritualistic mass evident of the obvious evolution of paganism. However, before I lose too many more from my friends list, I’ll drop that discussion and attempt to pick up where I left off.

I’ve always wanted my children to be raised with open minds. Just because my children came out of my body does not give me the right to determine their spiritual beliefs, no more than I get a say in their favorite color, or sexual preference, or favorite foods. I have influence, and it’s my responsibility to use that wisely. My 12 year old has had more exposure to different religions than I could have ever imagined at her age. My 4 year old, not as many, as he’s not into reading yet, but I still offer as many options while keeping the golden rule a constant.

This is where Veggie Tales come in. Someone from the other side of his family bought him a Veggie Tales video game last year for Christmas. My paranoia said that it was because they thought I wouldn’t let him play it, but in reality, there aren’t that many video games aimed at 4 year olds. Though he’s now gone onto slightly older-aimed games, he still likes his Veggie Tales game. So I went digging…yes, years ago, I got an extra Veggie Tales video in a lot from eBay, when I was mainly looking for Elmo. It became his new favorite. I’ve since purchased a few more for him to enjoy. To tell the truth, the songs really are fun.

Now back to last night: after I find a pair of Cars boxer briefs and an old undershirt of his sister’s for him to wear to bed, he crawls up with us to try to see exactly what it is we’re watching. I’ll be honest, he got bored a couple times, but I don’t expect too much of his attention span at this age. But for the most part, he was really into cuddling and actually watching the movie. I covered the boy’s eyes as Judas was about to hang himself, and the girl asked if she should look. I told her that at her age she has a better understanding of what is real on the screen and what can be done with wires and tricks; it was just that I knew it was a very moving image that I didn’t necessarily want to have stuck in the boy’s head. But that was the only section I shielded him from.

And then, there were the images of Christ, with his crown of thorns, dying, bleeding on the cross. With my religious background, for the most part, the image affects me as much as the McDonald’s arches: been around all my life, still somewhat important, but not new, exciting, moving. But my 4 year old was seeing this for the very first time. And try as I might, I could not get into his head to help him process it. I have no idea what that image did to him, or how it might affect him in the future. I make every effort to put myself in their shoes as a parent, but it just didn’t work.

At the end, I asked Amy what she thought. As I expected, she was very impressed (more so than the Pirates of Penzance I forced her to watch last year). What I did not expect was for her brother to agree with her.