Jesus was a good ole boy

Taken by itself, it’s easy to see how “Cotton Patch Gospel” would inspire everything from knee-slapping enthusiasm to smiles of confusion to the occasional red-faced rage. Religion is a very personal thing, and people like what they’re used to.

Just in time for Easter, Wayside Theatre closes its 47th season with the remounting of this hallelujah-brother story, the last musical project of the late Harry Chapin. Presented in its classical form — a quartet of bluegrass musicians and one extremely versatile actor — this production under the direction of Warner Crocker does everything it’s supposed to do. Some will love it; some won’t.

For those with nervous sacrilege barometers, a little background might help. In 1942, Clarence Jordan (obviously a troublemaker) established the Koinonia Farm in rural southern Georgia, a commune dedicated to the Christian principals of brotherhood and peaceful co-existence. Realizing that the farm was including blacks in their definition of brotherhood, the Bible Belt responded with hate mail, boycotts of their products, and fiery raids by the Ku Klux Klan. It was an interesting first 25 years.

In the early 60’s, Jordan fixed on the idea of making the Gospels more than usually accessible and retold them as the “Cotton Patch” series which brought the life of Jesus right into the neighborhood. Herod became the Governor of Georgia.

Bethlehem became Gainesville.

The miracles of bread and fish became five Nabisco crackers and two sardines.

And the crucifixion occurred compliments of the white-hooded lynch mobs in Atlanta. They were funny, oddly tender, and a mite disturbing. For some, the stories of Jesus are only approachable through a fog of two thousand years, and Jordan was trying to bring them next door.

In 1981, Harry Chapin undertook the musical version of the Cotton Patch Gospel according to Matthew and John, and the piece found itself on Broadway. It’s been making the rounds ever since. Meanwhile, the Koinonia Farm went on to become the birthplace of Habitat for Humanity.

With that said, it’s time to praise Ray Ficca, an elastic and gifted actor who effortlessly morphs from one character to the next. He does the disciples, Herod, a great Marlon Brando as Godfather, the tormented Jud (Judas), and a hell-raising John the Baptizer. Father Joe, gripping the wheel of his Studebaker, suddenly realizes one of his kids is missing and finds Jesus back in the church giving the preacher an earful. You name it, he’ll play it.

Jordan saw the gently humorous possibilities in stories presented as iron-faced fact, and Ficca is the ideal conduit for that humor: Jesus turning water into wine and running afoul of the magician’s union; Simon catching a fish too big for him; the unreasonable demands of fame; the folly of a fickle and childish populace. Ficca’s balancing act is both nimble and necessary for he portrays Jesus as infinitely human with a dollop of the divine.

Set in Til Turner’s
austere, blond wood interior, musicians Clay Arthur, Larry Dahlke, Bob Payne, and Steve Przybylski alternate between sound effects, character sketches, and a ripping repertoire of bluegrass. The Cotton Patch gospel stories may be medicine of uncertain digestibility, but the music makes it easy to swallow.

This is a very different kind of show in that the enjoyment and appreciation of what are genuinely top notch performances still hinge on the personal attitudes brought by the viewer. My observation is that most people are flexible enough to allow the story to be told and trust its good intentions. It may not be particularly inspiring, but it’s entertaining food for thought. Others of a strictly dogmatic stripe may find it offensive and confuse its familiarizing theme with trivializing.

Today’s word of advice: before you can know if you’d enjoy “Cotton Patch Gospel,” first you have to know yourself.
   
Margaret Lawrence is a member of the American Theatre Critics’ Association. She teaches drama at CCHS.