A great book once told me not to give what is holy to the dogs, or rather it may have been a hobo trying to persuade me not to throw out my McFish sandwich. In either case, when I was a Satanist that otherworldly wisdom went unheeded as I raised my beagle puppy entirely on communion wafers and foreskins. But now as a born-again Christian, I see the folly and impracticality of my former heathen lifestyle. Consequently, I cannot in good faith review The Passion of the Christ: Original Songs Inspired by the Film because of its crass cheapening of the Christ. To say that Jesus’ divine love and selfless suffering could be captured by heathen bands like P.O.D. or MxPx is like asking Arsenio Hall to interview Bill Clinton. So I have resisted my editor’s requests and refused to listen to this album.
My devotion to the unadulterated Word of God allows me only to stare at the glistening, plastic cover with its fiery, red sky silhouetting a cross. My God, why hast Thou forsaken me? Why have You let Your glory be diminished by the painful strains of Scott Stapp, formerly of Creed? I mean it’s bad enough that You allowed me to see Your only Son die at the cineplex while the pricks in the back threw popcorn at me and made out with their girlfriends. How could you make Stapp an apostle? I had no idea an apostle could be some sinning, Doors-loving, piece-of-shit billionaire singer who makes his money off the exploitation of believers and their children. Wasn’t Peter enough of an arrogant blasphemer without adding Creed to the mix?
Dejected, I browsed the liner notes for some inspiration, but what I found was wholly crap. Witness Kirk Franklin’s “How Many Lashes”: “Sitting here speechless … still kinda in awe/ My mind’s frozen … soul’s closed in from /What I just saw / On the big screen, what big things happen/ I saw like a nightmare/ Some cats cried some tried to be hard/ Like they didn’t care/ ‘Tell me why did they do that?’/ I heard this little girl say/ ‘Mommy why’d they hurt Jesus?’/ Ahhh- she’ll find out someday.” She’ll find out someday? Could Franklin be more sinister? When will she find out? When Our Savior blazes fire across a bloody apocalypse for all those who refuse devotion?
Is that really all Christianity is? Bloody exhibitionism? I acknowledge that the well-established Gibsonian interpretation of the New Testament would suggest it is, but should we not accept that He was more than just a piece of meat? Some songs on the CD would suggest no. So I urge all true believers not to purchase this shameful project that discretely commercializes our common faith. I would give this CD a bad rating, but it would be cynical and disrespectful for me to bestow anything less than five towers for Jesus Christ.
Archived article by Chris Kakovitch Red Letter Daze Staff Writer