U.S.: My review of The Passion

The Passion is the most powerful movie I've ever seen. I say this as a movie buff who has a nice little collection of very good movies. There's never been a movie like this one; there'll never be another movie like this one. This sense of uniqueness, which The Passion conveys from the initial encounter with Jesus, is also that which the believer experiences and leads to Baptism and the Christian life. Anyway, my eyes filled up from the opening Gethesemane scene of the movie, and I was sniffing throughout it, though there are unexpected spots of levity.

Caviezel, as Jesus, is really excellent at conveying the desperation and fear which must have been the Gethsemane prayer scene. When I say fear, I mean not the fear of death, but the fear of the agony that is to come, of being able to endure unbroken and unfallen. Into the midst of Gethsemane is Satan, androgynous and somehow seductive. The question that permeates the primal atmosphere of Gethsemane seems to be the same one that hung in the air at Eden. "Did God really say?..." The first Adam fell under the onslaught tempted by his wife; the second Adam is head of His Bride. He rules Her, and rightly so. Thus, he wrestles through the temptation and emerges envigorated, determined, strengthened. When he stamps his foot on the head of the serpent, Mark Shea is very right about this, it is a declaration at war. This declaration is what defines the Gethsemane scene as prologue to the movie, and it is what ought to shape our comprehension and reception of the movie itself. That critics might have failed to grasp the significance of the act might well be attributable to their lack of knowledge of the texts (OT, NT), or to some other reason. The declaration of war asserts that the conflict that is about to commence is not going to be between men; instead, it will be an intensely spiritual conflict. Shea gets this right too. The war is of principalities and powers, of spiritual wickedness in high and low places; thus, Gethsemane becomes Eden revisited, and the focus is on man/creation over whom the war rages. So, from the outset, Gibson frames his movie in such a way that the individual, rather than the group, is implicated in the interaction with Jesus that is to follow. One sees this most poignantly in seven characters: Malchus, the temple soldier; Peter, the disciple; Judas, the betrayer; Simon of Cyrene, the reluctant bearer of the cross; Pontius Pilate; Caiaphas, the High Priest; and, the Roman soldier who lets Mary have access to her crucified Son. Each is immediately impacted by the events that precede and proceed from the crucifixion.

Malchus is the temple soldier whose ear is cut off. Jesus places it back on and heals it, and the look of utter astonishment on Malchus's face gives way to realization. So, he remains on his knees, stricken, long after Jesus has been taken away. One senses that Jesus' final act of healing is also creative, for it brings Malchus to faith. It is not a stretch to say that, though Malchus never utters it, one hears (in one's head) Thomas devoutly uttering "my Lord and my God!" Gibson's depiction of Judas is brilliant. One is not sure whether what is occurring is real or is a figment of Judas's mind as the realization of his deed comes upon him. If Malchus's response is most likely faith, and Peter's is a sense of his utter unworthiness and repentance, then Judas's response is despair. Simon of Cyrene comes slowly to pity and to challenge the Romans on Jesus's behalf. In that sense, Simon is a type of everyman who begins by rejecting Christ, then gradually comes to faith, and so to apologia (defense). The last interaction between Jesus and Simon is a wordless meeting of eyes. In traveling the way of the cross, Simon has also made a corresponding spiritual journey that might be thought to bring him also to faith. Like Malchus, Simon will be forever changed by the encounter.

I've read reviews that argue that Pilate is depicted positively in contrast to the Jews. That is false. Pontius Pilate is a thoroughly post-modern man for whom there is no objective truth. His wife provides a stinging rebuke to his post-modern relativism. She is in sharp contrast to Pilate, and she can only temporarily lend him conviction and courage. Absent any internal resources of his own, Pilate constantly looks to his wife to provide what he lacks. She is his source of truth. As a strategy for justice, this is seriously flawed. This is why Pilate's clever ruse to wriggle out of his situation is turned back on him, and he realizes, only belatedly, the chasm yawning at his feet. More significantly, Pilate is in sharp contrast to Caiaphas, the High Priest, such that when the two are framed in the same scene together, Pilate comes out the loser. Where Pilate lacks an absolute sense of what is right and has to fall back on what is expedient to save his own skin, Caiaphas is doing what he sincerely believes to be right. That his means are questionable and corrupt are another issue altogether. The point is that Caiaphas has the courage of his convictions; he will stand for the truth that he believes to be right, even to the extent of doing what is wrong in order to defend that truth. As for the Roman soldier, and this is one of the places where the movie is obviously RC, his understanding and perhaps faith come via his regard for Mary as the mother of Jesus. Nevertheless, in the soldier's interaction with Jesus, is forgiveness and redemption as the blood and water spill over him as he is brought to his knees at the foot of the cross. That soldier there with the blood and the water on him is every believer. The message of salvation rings out even as one receives proof of the death of Jesus.

With regard to the trial, Caiaphas and the Sanhedrin are not united on the issue of Jesus. The dissenters are cast out of the trial or leave somewhat under threat. Thus, there is no "the Jews" in the sense of all the people and all the Sanhedrin. One sees this in the look of utter contempt that one of the Sanhedrin turns on Judas, and this is apparent also in the Gospels. What there is is the ruling body led by Caiaphas who is insistent on having a perceived heretic, blasphemer, and threat moved out of the way. If he has to lie to accomplish it, the truth, as he knows it, will be preserved. In the mob scene before Pilate, Gibson sets up the tension between Pilate and Caiaphas in which Pilate comes out the loser, even though Caiaphas is in the position of having to entreat Pilate at the outset. As the scene advances and Pilate loses ground, Caiaphas grows stronger, and he knows it. He no longer entreats; he can now demand and get crucifixion. Caiaphas who, in an earlier scene, rents his garments in horror has to confront the horror of the veil rent in twain as the temple itself is sundered toward the end of the movie. The look on his face is priceless. Is it finally conviction? Recognition of error? Or is it just fear and terror at the exposure of the Holy of Holies to unclean eyes? It is impossible to know, just as it is impossible to know if Judas is tormented by his thoughts or by actual children. Interestingly, Caiaphas and the Sanhedrin members who are with him cannot bear to watch the scourging. It is not what they want, they want crucifixion, but the brutality of the scourging they cannot bear, so they turn away. That too, I found symbolic.

The scourging scene is terrible. All that came to my mind between wiping away tears while watching it was some words from a hymn: "Thy body broken for my sins...." When I saw the blood on the stones after His body is taken away and Mary's cleaning up, "This testamental cup I take...." It is powerful sacramental theology, and Gibson, through the shed blood on the cobblestones and through his use of slices of Christ's pre-passion words, manages to convey this all. He drums home this point: this blood shed here is because of and for us. The viewer is convicted and implicated in all that goes on in the movie. The high priest willing to lie to preserve his truth, that is each of us; the Roman soldier taking a brutal delight in the scourging, that is each of us; Pilate lacking conviction and a belief in any truth [other than the experiential] and doing the expedient thing, looking to some other person than the divine to find truth, that is each of us also. It may not be possible to see self in the scourged and later crucified Jesus because of the consciousness and horror of what my sins, and the sins of us all, have wrought. The guilt, the sense of conviction, of unworthiness makes each blow personal because I know I am guilty, but He is not. Yet, I could not bear the punishment He took. I found that I was flinching and my stomach clenching through it. Several times, I passed my hands over my face or was pulling my hair because the movie brings home the enormity of the sacrifice at Golgotha. Apart from the Roman soldiers and Judas, I saw myself particularly in two characters; in Peter who swore he would follow Jesus to the end, but denied Him, and in Mary Magdalene who felt so unworthy that she could only crawl on her belly that her hand could touch Jesus' feet. He, with compassion, lifted her up. If I saw myself in these characters, no doubt, others did. Such a seeing crushes and humbles, but the hope, the redemption extended to Mary is Gospel balm which is applied constantly throughout the movie via the little interspersed slices.

Critics have commented on Gibson's brief usage of these and complained that he does not trouble to convey Jesus' teaching. They are wrong. What Gibson does is use these little scenes proleptically; we understand the slice in its context, yes. However, it is best understood with regard to what it says about an event that comes to pass later. Therefore, Jesus raising Mary is Jesus raising us with Him in His resurrection. Jesus breaking bread and giving wine is fully understood sacramentally in the crucifixion. His body is what we eat and His blood is what we drink. The bread and wine lifted up is His body and His blood; the breaking and the blood are for us, and they are necessary, for we need them to live. The blood that flows from His head, His hands, His feet is necessary and sacramental. It is God's gift to us, for our sake.

Throughout, Satan weaves, tempting, challenging, warring through men, moving behind the Sanhedrin and kissing a priest on the shoulder. Thus, Gibson conveys a potent reminder that it is not the Sanhedrin with whom Jesus wars; it is the devil, sin, death, and hell. This is fully apparent in the perverse pieta that mockingly reminds of mother and infant child. Satan, sin, death, and hell are the enemies who cannot and will not be forgiven; Caiaphas, however, is human and may be brought to repentance and faith. The other will not for they have set themselves up over against God. I don't recall seeing any commentary on that, but its significance further underscores who the enemy is in this movie and is vital to understanding the movie. That Satan is personified and seen with a grossly misbegotten child is straight out of James.

This movie has several lessons. It teaches about prayer. We ask God for what we know not, and we don't know what God has in mind for us. Our prayer is often at odds with what God intends, so at the end of our prayer, we ought to submit that His will might prevail. This movie taught me that I don't really know how to pray; I thought I did.

Theologically, Gibson gives us the very Christian doctrine of the two natures in Christ. He does this from the outset of the movie. Jesus is simultaneously and ever eternally fully man and fully God. Some critics have missed this aspect of the movie. They say they don't see the divine. It is there in the crushing of the serpent's head (shades of Genesis 3); it is there in the compassion and forgiveness and prayer that Jesus gives in spite of what is done to Him because He knows that it must be done; it is there in the interaction between the slices and the scenes to which they point and which they unfold the true meaning of; it is there on the cross, and at the resurrection. We see this Jesus, man in His own flesh, who can only endure all He can because He is the God-man. He is both gift and sacrifice.

Another aspect of the movie is its reliance on and scholarly use of the OT. Gibson implies an intertextual relationship between the OT and NT; the texts read each other. Gibson has the NT reading the OT and interpreting it Christocentrically; and he has the OT reading the NT and demonstrating the eternal nature of the message of both. Gibson does not and cannot dismiss the OT. Apart from Isaiah, Gibson uses the Psalms (in Gethsemane) and Ezekiel (on the Cross). His use of Ezekiel 47 is powerful; for the body of Christ is the temple out of the side of which flows both water and blood. In the same way the OT points to prolepses of NT events, the NT cannot stand on its own, is the message. It cannot stand without the OT, and no book in the NT can stand by itself. Thus, the Gospels reference James, Corinthians, Revelation. The point of them all is God's divine action on behalf of man; it is what God does for us; it is God's love for us; and, that is exemplified in Christ Jesus. This is the understanding that Gibson brings from the uses of text and juxtapositions of scenes.

With regard to the language, I was able to follow along with the Aramaic for the most part. After all, it is much like Hebrew. The Latin, which I know less of, even that I understood to some extent. The language lent the movie an aura of authenticity that served to put me, as viewer, there on the scene, and made me complicit in the betrayal, capture, scourging, and crucifixion of Jesus.

Concerning the Jews. Is this a movie that will rouse one to run out and kill Jews? Not if you're Christian. I met an old man, a black old man with a cane, outside the cinema. He wanted to talk a little, so I stood and listened. He reminisced a bit; he said that several years ago he was part of a troupe that acted the Crucifixion. He said if he'd seen this before, he'd never have done it. This movie, he said, took him to another level. This is what Jesus did for us. Then, he said this that struck home; he was going home, sit in a chair, think, and cry. What about the characters? Don't they look Jewish? Peter does, if having a hooked nose means that you're Jewish. Jesus does, if having a long nose means that you're Jewish. A couple members of the mob do. I would be very much surprised if Gibson did not try to cast for a particular look: dark hair, dark eyes; dark skin. The only blonds are the Romans. There is a point before the scourging when I got upset at the mob. Before that sentiment can fully take root, Gibson cuts the tension by moving away to a slice. Why was I upset with the mob. Was it because they're Jewish? No, you know they're lying, you see it in Caiaphas's face when he alters the rationale for the trial, and it just frosts you. The whole movie is full of Jews; only Pilate and his gang are not, even Herod and his gang (a more perverse and profligate looking bunch you won't find anywhere.) might be Jews (I say might because Herod has ever been a dubious figure). Gibson balances the mob off against the people. You know the mob are Caiaphas's boys. Then, you have the crowd that follows on the way to Golgotha; they're not crying crucify Him; they're pleading for mercy.

I imagine that the biggest problem for Jewish viewers of this movie is this: absent faith in Christ, absent the knowledge and sense that Christ died for me, one is left with the guilt that I spoke of earlier. When you compound this with identification with characters, that I've indicated happens, and with the magnitude of the passion, the brutality of what happens, there is no catharsis for Jews. Instead, what remains is what every individual feels, the guilt, the shame, the sense of complicity. For me, the last scene is cathartic. It is the resurrection, and the war Satan begun in Eden is completed by Christ's rising from the grave in a garden tomb. Christ arises and his flesh is new, unmarked; but for the stigmata, thre is no other sign of the passion.

My reaction? I pumped my fist in the air. Yes! Jesus lives, the victory's won! Satan, sin, death, hell have all been defeated. This is the catharsis that Jews do not have because Jews do not believe that Jesus is the Son of God Most High, is God Himself. Therefore, the Jewish individual who sees the film experiences what his Christian fellow does, but without the catharsis. All that guilt and blame remains unpurged; so, not only does he apply what he feels to his brethren, but he also reasons that Christians have similar feelings and would turn them on him. From there, it is but a short step to believing that the film will spark anti-Semitic actions/riots. It is my contention that nothing in the film can lead to anti-Semitism; that the experience Gibson creates cinematically is too profound to allow the viewer to entertain hate. The Christian watching The Passion has been given a front row seat to the greatest and most significant event in human history; he knows that all that happens had to occur for the salvation of all men. I make no brief for some of the radical fringe nuts who pretend they're Christian.

What about Muslims? The belief in who Jesus is, and the belief in the Resurrection is what makes all the difference in terms of how one responds to this film. Muslims have Jesus' genealogy wrong; therefore, the Issa of whom they speak is not Jesus of the NT. Absent belief in the deity of Christ and the resurrection, and given their profound hatred of Jews, Muslims are liable to react very differently from Christians. However, it is possible that because of The Passion's profoundly Christian nature, it is most likely to be banned in Muslim nations lest the people see it and be converted.

Finally, this movie shows me how far I have moved from my own Spiritual Baptist faith. For me, it's a wake up call. A call to repentance and faith.