Highly Acclaimed and Burned in Effigy
Voluminous criticism has been heaped on Mel Gibson for his latest production, The Passion of the Christ. I will answer several of the most common, but first it is essential to the reader to consider what Gibson chose not to do with the film. Neither Christians nor non-Christians will find this film preachy: there is no soft underbelly of evangelical pedagogy for viewers (or reviewers) to deflect their questions onto and so sidestep the real message and thrust of the work. The movie is also not intended to be a delightfully benign frolic with a cartoonish Anglo-Jesus through a few parables, and it’s not meant to be a commercialized rehashing of a few hand-selected Gospel sequences. And it’s for that reason that a great deal of the controversy surrounding the film exists.
Depicting with sword-edged accuracy the last twelve hours in the life of Jesus of Nazareth whom Christians call Christ, the Messiah[1], The Passion is a fully immersive experience that dashes to pieces the coolly logical, apathetically aloof recall of the words of the text of the Bible. This movie is a wake-up call for Christians in that it reminds us not to lose sight of the reality of what our Lord went through—and that only physically!—for us to commune with the Father; and a shot of bittersweet truth to the non-believer in that it will leave them asking questions. Not bothering to explain or give background information, the film opens up in the Garden of Gethsemane, a shivering Christ (Jim Caviezel) in agony, sweating beads of blood and praying (Luke 22:44). From the beginning to the end, the viewer is drawn into the reality of the experience: no summaries are made, nor apologies. By the coming of the fade to black and the credits roll replete with riveting score, one is made to feel as though getting up and continuing about daily business is a highly irregular and unnatural action. More than inviting thought, The Passion demands serious contemplation and will exact its payment in mental energy even if unbidden from the one that goes to see it.
Of course, this has been one of the criticisms of the movie, that it leaves the unbeliever somewhat in the dark and asking, “Why?” I would put forth to you that this is not only a good thing and a sign that Gibson accomplished at least the production of a thoughtful film, but also that this movie can and will serve as the crucible in which the souls that see it are tested to see whether they are truly interested or not in knowing the truth surrounding Jesus’ death. As one reviewer[2] puts it, “while we see what happened to Jesus, we understand very little about why.” That is precisely the point. Jesus taught in parables to separate those who really were seeking the truth (and would inquire about their meaning with those more learned, viz. at that time Him) from those who were just coming to Him to see a sensation, a public spectacle that were His miracles and radical teachings. The entirety of this movie is, in addition to being highly historically accurate, a type of extended parable that serves as invitation to the genuinely seeking and as a boring, average spectacle of typically Gibsonian gore for those seeking entertainment.
The most popular criticism leveled against Gibson’s film is that it is anti-Semitic, which can only be fueled by the fact that his father is unfortunately very much and publicly so. Frankly, many of these critics haven’t seen the first minute of the movie, though of course this is not true of them all. But in answer to this, we must go to the source material, as it were, for certainly no serious scholar would simply dismiss the Gospels as an account illustrating anti-Semitism. Though the verses are numerous, only one needs be echoed: when Jesus is presented to the crowd of priests and Jewish peasants standing before Pontius Pilate and that latter washes his hands as though to cleanse himself of the sin for which he was even yet culpable, saying “I am innocent of the blood of this just person: see ye to it.” Then answered all the people, “His blood be on us, and on our children” (Mt 27:24b-25). They left that out of the movie, of course (bad P. R., imagine that), but that’s in the account and mustn’t be overlooked. Any Christian understands that this movie is no more anti-Semitic than each of us is culpable for having nailed Christ to that tree ourselves, for our own sins. For this reason I can sing with lyricist Matt Morginski[3], “My sin yelled `Crucify!’ / Louder than the mob that day.” I will concede that Caiaphas, the high priest (Mattia Sbragia) was played to seem evil?aye, for was he not even from the account we have?—but what these critics overlook is the brutal glee with which the Roman scourgers portray “man’s inhumanity to man,” as it were. Who’s calling this anti-Roman, in the light of these bitter blows with which they rip open the flesh of Christ and revel in his pain and quite literally in his blood? No one. The cries of anti-Semitism are a knee-jerk reaction from those controversy mongers looking to displace the spiritual impact of the film onto an external scapegoat.
The gory violence of The Passion is itself, apart from questions or anti-Semitic overtones, a final criticism of the movie. This is a valid point to raise, perhaps especially in light of Gibson’s other testosterone-soaked films, but there is a purpose for focusing on the violence of the time before and during Christ’s crucifixion. I don’t purport to speak for Mr. Gibson, but I can see several reasons for doing so. First of all, no question about it, even the most clinically cold description of the experience of being crucified is enough to make for shudders and cringing. Second, and coupled with the first, is the fact that the vast majority of the viewing public in America has been desensitized to the entire message of the Cross. Those who are used to rationalizing violence in movies as stage-blood and other such displacement exercises will do well to remember the grim truth of all that blood being splattered about, all those cries—no, they are not the Lord’s per se, but they do us a great service in reminding us that Jesus, in addition to being the eternal sovereign Lord, is also fully man. The academic message of the cross given in Sunday schools across the country and being taught piecemeal and softly to children almost serves to inoculate them to the shocking truth of what it really all means—from a human standpoint as well as from a spiritual/religious/theological. No, tough guy, go see it and witness what your Creator and Lord did for you; and no, thou Christian, go and visually witness the awesome substance behind the words of the Word.
One Christian’s Opinion
The movie opens in the Garden, a frighteningly powerful, beautiful androgynous figure (Satan) near Christ, whispering doubts and promises objectified by the snake that Jesus crushes mercilessly underfoot (Ge 3:15). We see the Lord sweat blood (Lk 22:44), betrayed with a kiss by Judas (Mt 28:49, Mk 14:45, Lk 22:48), restore the ear of Malchus (Jn 18:10-11), and be dragged away to the crowds in the night. Inside Jerusalem, the Pharisees confront him with false witnesses (Mt 26:60) and accusations of blasphemy (Mk 14:60-65). By the time Peter denies that he knows Jesus that third time, cursing and swearing oaths, the Christian viewer falls to his spiritual knees with Peter, echoing with him that vast, horrified silence in which he meets the eyes of Christ. Through the film thenceforth we see ourselves: have we not spat upon him, mocked him? Are we not culpable?
The Catholicity of the film cannot and should not be ignored; but Gibson does a fabulous job taking iconographic license only where it does not conflict with Scripture, and in a few places where it helps give context to the attentive viewer. As far as I can tell, Gibson arranged the movie according to the “five sorrowful mysteries,” a part of the Rosary Catholics use to pray: (1) the agony in the Garden, (2) the scourging of Christ, (3) the thorned coronation, (4) carrying the cross, and (5) the crucifixion. Catholics will also recognize the “fourteen stations of the Cross,” imagery used in Catholic devotions on Good Friday. The somewhat controversial ones are included in the movie itself, viz. the following: Veronica wipes Christ’s face with a cloth, Mary helping strengthen Christ’s resolve on the way to the Cross, and the three times Christ falls under the weight of the cross itself, though this is not explicit in Scripture (only implied because Simon the Cyrene carries the cross when Christ is no longer able alone). The most striking of the “stations” at which the Catholic imagery will be most striking and poignant is a graphically accurate depiction of the Pietá of Michaelangelo. Perhaps even more striking than the artistic element of that pose, though, is that it does not osbtruct the flow of the movie nor the riveting impact when Mary looks directly into the eyes of the audience. There are those who deplore the film for its Catholicism, but I, a Protestant, do not: I doubt anyone is going to be led astray by the imagery here, and the only ones who will really recognize it are either studied Christians themselves or critics looking to nitpick on that which does not, in this context, matter. The bottom line is that even with all the Catholic and artistic liberties Gibson took, this depiction still does justice to the message behind the cross and resurrection.
And that is perhaps the best reason to see the movie, and the reason that most people who don’t, won’t. The Passion is a powerful film, a deeply moving and concrete depiction of the suffering, death, and resurrection of our Lord. It will challenge you, move you, and leave you asking “why?” In discovering the answer to that question, your entire life could be changed. Do you have the courage to face your faith, Christian? Do you who does not believe have the courage to ask yourself and answer a difficult question?
†
A Few Last Thoughts
I really enjoyed this movie on several levels. Spiritually because it nailed me to my seat and forced me to consider what I put my Lord through for my sin—and that not because he was for any reason beholden, but only because he loves me! But academically and psychologically, I appreciate what Gibson did with this film even apart from my subjective spiritual experience it helped engender. The fact that it was spoken entirely in the authentic languages of the day (Aramaic, a Semitic language closely akin to Hebrew for the Jews; and “street Latin” for the Romans). A student of Hebrew, and a native speaker of English (some of whose root words descend from Latin), I greatly enjoyed listening for those things I could understand. The fact that it was indeed rendered in the original languages leveled the playing field, so to speak: the acting prowess really shone through, especially the second time I saw it. Did you notice the subtle shock with which Pilate regards Jesus when the latter switches from speaking in Aramaic to the Jews to flawless Latin when speaking to Pilate himself? Here is further allegory: the voice of God speaks in every language, and no tongue is unintelligible to the Lord who created the minds from which these languages sprang. (None can claim ignorance of the Gospel!)
Questions invariably come up, and this is where you come in. If you have a question about the movie either before or after having seen it, I’ll do my best to answer it; and I enjoy researching the topics, so have at it. Here are a couple that I’ve either asked or heard most commonly:
Q: Where in the Bible does it say the unredeemed thief on the cross next to Jesus had his eye pecked out? Isn’t this just a gratuitous grotesquerie?
A: There is no direct account of this in the Bible, but I don’t believe it’s either gratuitous or unjustifiable. Hanging on my wall is a verse I wrote down when I was exceedingly unwell with my parents’ authority: from King Solomon’s book of Proverbs, the seventeenth verse of the thirtieth chapter, “The eye that mocks a father, that scorns obedience to a mother, will be pecked out by the ravens of the valley, will be eaten by the vultures” (NIV). The idea here is that, since to obey the Father (that is, the LORD) is to “believe in the one He sent” (Jn 6:29 NIV), that is, Jesus, and the unrepentant thief had just mocked and refused to believe in the Lord (Christ), he was subject to punishment as illustrated here as a literal instance of Proverbs 30:17.
Q: That baby in Satan’s arms—what on Earth was that all about?
A: Gibson answers this himself. “[I]t’s evil distorting what’s good. What is more tender and beautiful than a mother and a child? So the Devil takes that and distorts it just a little bit. Instead of a normal mother and child you have an androgynous figure holding a 40-year-old ‘baby’ with hair on his back. It is weird, it is shocking, it’s almost too much?just like turning Jesus over to continue scourging him on his chest is shocking and almost too much, which is the exact moment when this appearance of the Devil and the baby takes place” (ChristianityToday.com).[4]
[1] Both Christ (from the Greek, khristos) and Messiah (from the Hebrew, meshiakh) mean “Anointed One,” and Christians believe that the Jesus of the New Testament in the Bible is the one foretold to be the Savior of the world.
[2] Garth Franklin of “Dark Horizons”: http://www.darkhorizons.com/reviews/passionn.php
[3] Singer and writer for the Christian ska group The Orange County Supertones.
[4] See this link for the full article.
If you have any more questions, or comments, please don’t hesitate to let me know! I’ll be delighted to answer your queries with solid research and exposition.
