It’s late spring in the late 1980s. I am sitting in a dimly lit, wood paneled classroom at Sacred Heart School, wearing a scratchy uniform polo and staring at a heavy, boxy Zenith TV that the teacher just wheeled in on a towering metal cart. Typically if we watched TV it was something for our Science class, but today, Sister Margaret announced we were watching a movie about the Passion of Christ. We expected solemn hymns, weeping women in standard issue biblical cloaks, and a stoic, reverent Jesus.
Instead, the lights clicked off, the VHS tape hissed to life, and we were blasted in the face with a searing, distorted electric guitar riff. We were watching the 1973 film adaptation of Andrew Lloyd Webber and Tim Rice’s Jesus Christ Superstar. And let me tell you, for a bunch of Catholic school kids in the Reagan era late '80s, it was an absolute trip.
The Music Was an Absolute Banger
First of all, the music was incredible. I was raised on a strict diet of traditional church organs and acoustic guitar folk masses that felt about as modern as a stone tablet. Hearing the final week of Christ’s life told through a roaring, bombastic rock opera was a revelation.
Carl Anderson’s Judas was an absolute force of nature, hitting high notes that shook the classroom windows. Songs like "Heaven on Their Minds" and the title track "Superstar" had this infectious, driving energy that made it impossible to sit still. I remember looking around the room, watching my classmates secretly tapping their loafers against the linoleum floor. It was the first time "religion class" felt genuinely cool, even if we were completely bewildered by what we were looking at.
Wait... Is Jesus a Hippie?
Because as amazing as the soundtrack was, the visuals were a total head scratcher.
The movie came out in 1973, which meant it was steeped in the hangover of the late '60s counterculture counter vibe. But to us, living in the late '80s, the 1970s already felt like an alien planet. We were the generation of neon, hair metal, and synthesized pop. Suddenly, here was Jesus and his disciples wandering through the Israeli desert looking like they had just taken a wrong turn on their way to Woodstock. They were wearing flowy, oversized linen robes, sporting massive afros and feather layered hair, and dancing around in a way that felt entirely "peace and love, man". The Roman soldiers were wearing purple tank tops and reflective sunglasses, and Judas was rocking a fringed vest. It was deeply weird to reconcile the strict, rigid Catechism we were memorizing every morning with a savior who looked like he belonged in a drum circle. We were used to Jesus being pristine, untouchable, and painted on stained glass. Seeing him get frustrated, overwhelmed, and surrounded by a throng of bell bottom wearing, bohemian followers felt incredibly surreal.
Like Feeling High and Learning About Jesus
Honestly, looking back, the only way to describe the experience of watching that movie in a strict Catholic environment is that it was almost like feeling high while learning about Jesus. The film relies on a meta theatrical, dreamlike setup. A bus rolls into the desert, actors unload props, and suddenly you are swept into this loud, chaotic, blazing hot world of faith and funk. The vast desert vistas, the minimal props, the sudden bursts of modern weaponry mixed with ancient ruins, and the deeply human, conflicted psychology of the characters made everything feel hazy and larger than life.
It felt like a beautifully bizarre fever dream. You’re sitting under a crucifix in a classroom, smelling the chalkboard dust, while a rock band explicitly questions Christ’s divinity and Mary Magdalene sings a pop ballad about not knowing how to love him. It was provocative, confusing, and completely intoxicating to our young minds. While some rigid Catholic circles historically found the movie a bit blasphemous, opinions on it show, that many schools embraced it as a tool to get kids engaged. For me, it did exactly that. It didn't make me a perfect theologian, but it left an indelible mark. Decades later, I still can't think of Holy Week back in the day, without hearing those killer bass lines.
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