Footnote: How Not Getting Into Harvard Inspired the JCS Tradition
(Read this post first.)
A neat footnote to my previous post is that the Good Friday Jesus Christ Superstar tradition arose from the events surrounding the spring of my senior year in high school. Good Friday that year (multiple decades ago now. Sigh.) was also Ivy League decision-letter day. And, back then, Good Friday service began at noon and lasted until 3 p.m. Of course, we went. And our mail arrived around 2:30 p.m. So I had the entire service to wonder whether a thick or thin letter from Harvard would be waiting in our mailbox when I got home. Not only was I desperate to go to Harvard, but my boyfriend had received his letter the day before — and had gotten in. I felt like my whole future and our whole future depended on what sort of mail I had.
I did not think about Jesus during the service. I thought about Harvard and Carnegie Mellon and Allegheny College. Where would I go if Harvard said no? What would the financial aid packages from the latter two schools look like and could I negotiate them? I was wearing green dress slacks, a white sweater and penny loafers, and if I pondered Jesus' sacrifice for 20 minutes out of the 180 I sat in that pew in the local Methodist church, I was lucky.
I did not get into Harvard.
I cried. A lot.
On top of my general sense of failure and disappointment, I felt terrible that I'd spent the entire Good Friday service contemplating my college plans instead of Jesus' death. In fact, I was pretty sure that if I'd thought pious, penitent thoughts the entire time, the whole situation may have been altered and God would have miraculously CHANGED THE TEXT OF THE LETTER and I'd have been accepted instead. (Go easy on me. I was 18.)
I popped in Jesus Christ Superstar to compensate for my lack of focus during the service.
The rest is history.
More than 20 years ago, I considered this the second-worst day of my life. (Worst day: The Braves beat the Pirates in the now-infamous Game Seven of the 1992 NLCS. And that's still the worst day -- even worse than deaths and breakups. That day was terrible.) Anyway, now I consider that Good Friday one of the best days of my life. It sealed my future at Carnegie Mellon, where I met a ton of great people, received an amazing education, and became comfortable and confident in my own skin. I've spent a lot of time at CMU, so it must have been the right place for me after all.
The relationship? That didn't survive the distance and massive differences in our schedules and academics and personalities as we grew into the adults we'd become. But it was sweet while it lasted. And because of him, I actually visited Harvard three times AND attended a few lectures. Frankly, it's not all it's cracked up to be.
#GoTartans #ForeverPlaid
A neat footnote to my previous post is that the Good Friday Jesus Christ Superstar tradition arose from the events surrounding the spring of my senior year in high school. Good Friday that year (multiple decades ago now. Sigh.) was also Ivy League decision-letter day. And, back then, Good Friday service began at noon and lasted until 3 p.m. Of course, we went. And our mail arrived around 2:30 p.m. So I had the entire service to wonder whether a thick or thin letter from Harvard would be waiting in our mailbox when I got home. Not only was I desperate to go to Harvard, but my boyfriend had received his letter the day before — and had gotten in. I felt like my whole future and our whole future depended on what sort of mail I had.
I did not think about Jesus during the service. I thought about Harvard and Carnegie Mellon and Allegheny College. Where would I go if Harvard said no? What would the financial aid packages from the latter two schools look like and could I negotiate them? I was wearing green dress slacks, a white sweater and penny loafers, and if I pondered Jesus' sacrifice for 20 minutes out of the 180 I sat in that pew in the local Methodist church, I was lucky.
I did not get into Harvard.
I cried. A lot.
On top of my general sense of failure and disappointment, I felt terrible that I'd spent the entire Good Friday service contemplating my college plans instead of Jesus' death. In fact, I was pretty sure that if I'd thought pious, penitent thoughts the entire time, the whole situation may have been altered and God would have miraculously CHANGED THE TEXT OF THE LETTER and I'd have been accepted instead. (Go easy on me. I was 18.)
I popped in Jesus Christ Superstar to compensate for my lack of focus during the service.
The rest is history.
More than 20 years ago, I considered this the second-worst day of my life. (Worst day: The Braves beat the Pirates in the now-infamous Game Seven of the 1992 NLCS. And that's still the worst day -- even worse than deaths and breakups. That day was terrible.) Anyway, now I consider that Good Friday one of the best days of my life. It sealed my future at Carnegie Mellon, where I met a ton of great people, received an amazing education, and became comfortable and confident in my own skin. I've spent a lot of time at CMU, so it must have been the right place for me after all.
The relationship? That didn't survive the distance and massive differences in our schedules and academics and personalities as we grew into the adults we'd become. But it was sweet while it lasted. And because of him, I actually visited Harvard three times AND attended a few lectures. Frankly, it's not all it's cracked up to be.
#GoTartans #ForeverPlaid
Comments
Post a Comment