Images of Jesus

Every couple of years over Easter, I re-read Calvin Miller’s The Singer, a short, allegorical, free-verse interpretation of Jesus’ life, written in 1975. Oh, and Jesus is a troubadour—a travelling musician. I love rereading it because it awakens my imagination to the personhood and humanity of Jesus.

We are offered so many different versions of Jesus that it can be hard to picture him as a living, breathing person. At times he’s made to be a Superman-like character—someone who never felt tired or hungry or angry, and who wears a bullet-proof cloak to shield the needy. While we know this isn’t the ‘real Jesus’, it can be difficult to sift through these versions to
find one that feels true.

It makes sense then that The Chosen has been a popular series, because in it we see a Jesus who looks like us and people we know. A person with thoughts and feelings, who makes jokes and has favourite foods.
I also struggle with the accounts in the gospels that at times feel detached, yet I’ve teared up every time I’ve read The Singer. It’s clear that the gospels lend themselves beautifully to that sacred imagination that people like Calvin Miller have gravitated towards. There’s a part that sticks with me after the Singer has been killed, where the people who loved him stand together and grieve.

‘Grief owned the day.
In turn the three stood up and stared upon the dying Singer, high and lifted up.
“My joy, my health,” said the little girl.
“My life,” said the Friendship Seller.
The night stood dumb. The burdened mother wept. “…I wish I might have died instead of you, my son, my son, my son.”’

I also have people who are my joy. Whose death would mar my life. That feels more ‘true’ to me; seeing the pain that comes from Jesus having meant something to the people he loves, rather than a Jesus who spouts proverbs and has laser vision.