Monday, November 3, 2014

Jesus Christ Superstar



My placement supervisor, Brandon, recently presented this sermon, which was originally written by Jim Burklo, at a Young Adult Volunteers fundraiser.  I found it to be humorous, beautiful, and reflective of my faith.



The Sermon on Mount Hollywood


Blessed are the clinically depressed, for they all shall get free first-rate psychiatric care when we establish the kingdom of heaven in Los Angeles.
Blessed are the just plain sad, for they shall be entertained by stand-up comics who are secretly just as sad.
Blessed are the shy, for Hollywood needs them:  it has too many extroverts as it is.
Blessed are those who want to do the right thing when surrounded by opportunities to lie and cheat.
Blessed are truly nice people in a town with so many people who get paid to pretend.
Blessed are the pure in heart, even if that means they get fewer gigs.
Blessed are the gang members who choose peace instead of revenge.
Blessed are those who recommend others for auditions without expectation of getting recommendations from them, for theirs is the kingdom of very good karma.
Blessed are you when people talk smack about you on Facebook and dis you on Yelp;
Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for in the same way they messed up the social media of the prophets who were before you.


You are the salsa of the world.  But if salsa goes stale, its flavor cannot be restored.  It's so bad it would kill the worms in your compost heap.  So be that fresh tub of salsa that’s always ready in the fridge.  Let others savor your flavor!


You are the spotlights of the world.  A city built on Hill Street cannot be hid.  Nobody puts an LED lamp under a laundry basket, but instead you let it shine on the bedstand so you can read the LA Times.  In the same way, let the light within you shine a bright beam into the smog and direct the public toward your good deeds, so that people will say Wooo Hooo to Love, who is God, who inspired you to do them.


You've heard it said that murder is wrong, but I say to you that anger is just as bad.  So take that anger management course at the community center before the court mandates it.  You've heard it said that no good can come from sleeping with your boss's publicist.  But I say that even thinking about it is trouble.  


You've heard it said, a bad review for a bad review.  But I say to you, when you get a bad review, invite the reviewer for drinks at the Dresden in Los Feliz, and pay the tab gladly.  God is what happens when you do that.  God is a rare LA rain falling on jerks and good dudes and dudettes alike. 


You've heard it said that you should love your neighbor and hate your landlord, but I say to you, love your landlord -- yes, even love your condo association president.  What reward do you get for loving people who are like you?   Even paparazzi love each other.  God is what happens when you love the apartment manager who kept your security deposit for no good reason.  


When the guy in the Red Line subway station, the guy with the dreadlocks and the scruffy dog, you know who I mean, that guy in the subway who asks you for money, give it to him.  Give him a lot.  Don't tell him to get a job.  Don't tell him to pull himself up by his nonexistent bootstraps.  Just do it.  Yes, he will buy ganja with it, but so what?  The suits with window offices at Seventh and Figueroa buy ganja, too.  Just give him the money.  And don't tell anybody you did it.  God is the knowledge of the good you do when nobody else is looking. 


When you pray, cut the "we just ask you Jesus", "we just praise you Jesus”, we "just this" and "we just" that.  God hates Christian jive and especially God hates Christian radio.  Enough of the Jesusey talk.  When you pray, you are not talking to me, you are talking to my Dad in heaven.  So put it out there in plain English.  Spanish is cool, too.  Here's how Dad wants you to pray:  "God, you rock.  Whatever you want, I want.  I only want enough so that I can do what you want.  I want you to forgive me for messing up against you, like I want to forgive others for messing up against me.  Please don't make my life any more complicated than it already is.  Don’t let telephone solicitors get my number, and deliver me from email spam, because yours is the kingdom and the power and the glory forever, amen."


Don't store up treasure in that Self Storage unit under the 101 freeway, where roaches and excessive bills proliferate.  Put your treasure in heaven, where junkies can't rip you off.  Nobody can work for two film directors at the same time.  They will make your schedules conflict just out of spite.  You cannot serve God and Donald Sterling at the same time.


So really, don't worry about whether your Levis are properly distressed, or whether or not the stainless steel spike in your lip is screwed in straight.  God has counted every hair on the coyote that keeps you up at night with its howling in Laurel Canyon.  So much more has God measured exactly how long your fashionable two days' worth of beard has grown. Stop worrying about tomorrow when you’re reading today's Variety Magazine.  Sufficient for today are today's troubles on the Channel 5 Nightly News. 


Don't judge, lest you be judged.  Hello?  How basic is this?  Don't post an ugly picture of somebody on Instagram, lest you be similarly posted.  Why do you whine about the dandruff on your neighbor's eyelash, when you have a gob of spluge on yours?  Don't be a hypocrite.  Get the funk out of your own eye first.


Enter through Fountain Street, for Sunset is a wide road that leads to destruction, and there are many who take it.  For the intersection is narrow and the street is full of potholes that leads to life, and there are few who find it, even with GPS.


Beware of false promoters who come in designer poodle's clothing but inwardly are hungry coyotes.  You will know them by their fruits.  Are pomegranates gathered from poison oak, or oranges from greasewood?  A good jacaranda cannot blossom bad flowers. 


Everyone who hears what I'm saying is like a person who builds her house on ten-foot deep reinforced concrete piers.  And everyone who hears my words but doesn't follow them will be like the foolish person who builds his house on top of an earthquake fault.  The earth shakes, the house collapses, the lawyers show up, and great is the fall of that house!


No comments:

Post a Comment