The dandelion-watcher will behold
A sprawling savage kingdom crowned with gold
(Image source: Wikimedia)
Music, poetry, art, etc. It turns out that I do have a softer side.
Mark didn’t write his gospel for silent devotional reading. He wrote it to be read aloud publicly. In a phenomenal and incredibly moving one-man drama, Max McLean does exactly that.
I was delighted to discover tonight that a new DVD edition of Max McLean’s one-man show, “Mark’s Gospel,” is now available. I interviewed Max about the production last year, when it was running as a live show in the Chicago Theater District. It is a word-for-word dramatic recitation of the entire Gospel of Mark.
I was even happier to discover that the whole performance is available for free online. Each video below represents a chapter of Mark’s Gospel. All said, it runs about an hour and a half in length. I think you’ll find hearing this interpretation—and hearing the whole book at once, rather than just piecemeal—to be an enriching, edifying experience.
I’ve put together a playlist of the entire set of 16 videos on YouTube. Click here and then click “Play All” to watch the entire Gospel of Mark in one sitting (much more rewarding than watching one chapter at a time).
If when Don Cupid’s dart
Doth wound a heart,
We hide our grief
And shun relief,
The smart increaseth on that score;
For wounds unsearcht but rankle more.
Then if we whine, look pale,
And tell our tale,
Men are in pain
For us again;
So, neither speaking doth become
The lover’s state, nor being dumb.
When this I do descry,
Then thus think I:
Love is the fart
Of every heart;
It pains a man when ’tis kept close,
And others doth offend when ’tis let loose.
—Sir John Suckling, 1609–1642
~ ~ ~
Who would love the blossomed rose—
Luster her alluring pow’r,
Fragrance of arousal crowned?
Lovers all ablaze surround—
Bloom and root and stem devour.
Who would want the broken rose?
Seared in sin, in ashes grown;
Tortured pale, her petals torn;
Leaves are lost and left the thorn
Naked on the stem, alone.
Jesus wants the broken rose
While her twisted shape is thrown,
Shriveled, to the wilting scorn:
“Leave, oh, leave her not forlorn,”
Wept and whispered for his own.
Jesus loves the broken rose,
Waters with a bleeding show’r;
Root has gripped the sanguine ground;
Drops of blood, their riches found,
Rise through stem and red the flow’r.
~ ~ ~
Photo by David Garzon