Passionate about the Passion

by Elizabeth Kaeton

Assaulted. Manipulated. Provoked.  

I left the theater after watching Mel Gibson's The Passion of The Christ feeling overwhelmed by these three responses. My jaw ached from clenching it in anger and my stomach hurt from fighting off waves of disgust. The violence was not only gratuitous, but I found that the way this screenplay of the sacred gospels manipulated theology as well as emotions to be vulgar and abhorrent. I heard myself say out loud to anyone who might hear me, but more to myself as a promise, “I will never again see this movie.”

“How can you find this anti-Semitic, Elizabeth,” some of my friends ask incredulously, “any more than the gospels themselves paint the Jews in a very bad light?” The gospels are not anti-Semitic. The movie is because it glorifies the suffering of Christ without focusing on the gift of his life, ministry, mission, and resurrection.

All that being said, this movie has become a fascinating Rorschach test on every level.  I'm amazed by what some people see in it and they, in turn, are astonished by my reactions. “How can you find this anti-Semitic, Elizabeth,” some of my friends ask incredulously, “any more than the gospels themselves paint the Jews in a very bad light?” The gospels are not anti-Semitic. The movie is because it glorifies the suffering of Christ without focusing on the gift of his life, ministry, mission, and resurrection. Whenever that has happened in history, be it the Crusades or the Holocaust, the Jews are always blamed.

Yes, I know.  It makes no sense, on the one hand, to say, “Oh, thank God that Jesus died for my sins,” and in the very next breath to say, “Damn the Jews to hell for killing my savior!” Logic would follow that if, in fact, you believe that Jesus had to die for your sins, you might expect to say thanks to the Jews for delivering unto you a savior. But, prejudice is not logical. It is carefully taught. It is dangerous precisely because of its subtlety. This movie, unfortunately, underscores that hateful lesson and compels faithful Christians everywhere to do everything in our power to counteract it. It begs the question: Have we learned nothing about violence and prejudice in the aftermath of 9/11?

At one point, I got up and left my seat to stand in the back of the theater, so as not to disturb my friends who had graciously accompanied me. In one of the annoying flashbacks on the screen – which at least gave a break to the tension of the torture – I had a flashback moment myself. I remembered one of the most powerful observances of the Sunday of the Passion I've ever experienced.

I was newly ordained, it was my very first Easter season as a priest, and I was chaplain at the University of Lowell in Massachusetts. It was the university's Spring Break, and although I knew that few, if any, would come to the 5 p.m. Sunday service, I still came prepared with Blessed Palms and copies of dramatic reading of the Passion. At exactly 5 p.m., Jim walked into my office. A local student and Army vet in his early 30s, he was working on his master's degree in physical therapy while being employed full time as a trainer for one of the university's sport teams. We decided to read the Passion together, dividing the parts between us and being the crowd together.

When we finished, Jim was in tears. “I had no idea,” he kept saying. “I had no idea that this holy man allowed himself to be tortured and die for what he believed. And, he believed he did this for me, didn't he? For you and me, right?” he asked as he wept some more. When we celebrated communion, I could barely get through the Eucharistic prayers. Neither could he. We were both awash in the Passion of the Christ in a way neither of us had ever experienced before – or, no doubt, since.

[Gibson] has forgotten that the power of the Passion lies not in its suffering and horror and gore but rather in the power it has to ignite human imagination, human passion, and transform the human heart. . . Ultimately, however, Mel has revealed more about the complexity of his own human passion than that of the Christ.

This is probably the most powerful lesson of Mel's passion. He has forgotten that the power of the Passion lies not in its suffering and horror and gore but rather in the power it has to ignite human imagination, human passion, and transform the human heart. Admittedly, some may need visual effects for their faith to deepen and grow. Everyone learns differently. Ultimately, however, Mel has revealed more about the complexity of his own human passion than that of the Christ.

Christ rose from that empty tomb to call us to new life – not to dwell on his crucifixion, but to live out of the miracle of being born again in his Spirit. Living our lives with passion and hope, in peace and love is, finally, the best way to honor the passion of our Resurrected Lord.  It is the reason Christianity has grown and continues to thrive – not because of images on the movie screen but in the real-life stories of the way Jesus continues to be present to us in the daily crucifixions and ordinary resurrections of our lives.

The Rev. Elizabeth M. Kaeton is a regular contributor to A Globe of Witnesses. Her online column is titled Another Word for Justice . Elizabeth may be reached by email at EMKaeton@aol.com .