The Passion of The Christ:
Crisis and Opportunity
in Jewish-Christian Relations
(Written in 2004)
William J. Cork, D.Min.
Introduction
Mel Gibson's depiction of the Passion has generated more
discussion and criticism than any other movie in recent memory. Most of the
reviewers have either loved it or hated it, abandoning any pretence of
objectivity. And the comments that have been made leave one wondering if they
have watched the same film.
"An intensely Catholic account of the Passion."--Linda Chavez.
"One of the most brutal, disturbing pieces of cinema ever made."--Michael
Medved (Washington Post, August 5, 2003--and he's one of Gibson's strongest defenders). "Relies on sinister medieval
stereotypes," "historical errors," and "an anti-Jewish account of a 19th
century mystical anti-Semitic nun," "to weave a narrative that
oversimplifies history, and is hostile to Jews and Judaism.--ADL.
I'd have to say I agree with all those statements. It is
indeed a beautiful and
well-crafted work of art, and the inspiration of Caravaggio claimed by Gibson is
evident. It is also a clearly Catholic interpretation of the Passion, accenting the
self-sacrifice and suffering of Jesus, his relationship with Mary, and the Eucharist
(it is so Catholic, in fact, that I have a hard time understanding why it has
been so well-received by Evangelical Protestants). And it is gory,
with excessive and gratuitous violence, including a prolonged flagellation of
Jesus in which most of the skin is ripped from his body, and a scene in which a crow
pecks out the eyes
of a thief crucified alongside Jesus.
And the ADL is right. It does exaggerate the role of the Jews,
adding to the New Testament account and reviving stereotypes associated with
medieval passion plays. Nevertheless, I don't
think Gibson intended to blame the Jews for killing Christ.
I think we can accept his explanation that he wanted to make a movie focusing
on the depth of Jesus' self-sacrificing love for us. But, as he has mentioned
in many interviews, he included elements from the writings of a late 18th,
early 19th
century German nun, Anne Catherine Emmerich, and this resulted in
the inclusion of some problematic elements. Her
Dolorous Passion of Our Lord Jesus Christ
is the product of a pious but
overworked imagination, and reflects both misunderstanding and ignorance of
Scripture and unquestioning acceptance of antisemitic assumptions that prevailed
among Catholics of the era. Her
"visions" are so much a part of this movie that it would be fair to say it is a
movie of her book, not of the Gospels. He also used a work by a 17th century
Spanish nun, Mary of Agreda, The Mystical City of God. It is a movie, with good and bad,
and we need to be able to discuss the content objectively and dispassionately.
It is a movie that stirs up powerful emotions, which differ depending upon the
background and beliefs of the viewer. For
most Christians, it is a moving meditation on the sufferings of Christ. For
secular viewers, it may be a beautiful work of art, or puzzling, or even revolting. For
those on the fringe, it
will no doubt confirm their deepest prejudices. Those Jews who see it may find
painful memories brought to the surface. Because of the issues involved, and the
emotions aroused, this is a movie that must be discussed. We
should be able to ask the same questions of it as we would ask of any
film--What's good? What's not as effective? Because some have claimed that it
follows Scripture, we need to ask whether it actually it does, and if it
departs, we need to know why, and what other sources Gibson might have used.
Catholics will want to evaluate it in terms of
Criteria for the Evaluation of Dramatizations of the Passion, written by a committee of the US Catholic Bishops,
which draws upon theological developments since Vatican 2, and takes into
account the history of passion plays. And any discussion of the film between
Jews and Christians should be marked by reverent silence as we listen to and
seek to understand the differing experience of a person of another faith. Why
many Catholics
love the film
This is a movie that brings tears to the eyes of many
Catholics who have seen it. It does so because the crucifixion of Christ is at
the center of Christian faith, and the movie portrays that event vividly and
powerfully. It doesn't portray it with historical objectivity, in a
documentary style; rather, it reflects on the meaning of the cross for
believers. The movie opens without title or credits, but with a
quote from Scripture that tells us Gibson's main theological point up front :
"He was wounded for our iniquities, he was bruised for our sins: the
chastisement of our peace was upon him, and by his bruises we are healed" (Isaiah
53:5). We are then in the Garden of
Gethsemane, where we see Jesus in agony. He has gone there after his Last
Supper, to pray with his disciples. He has gone away by himself but returns and
finds them sleeping. He then returns to prayer, and he is already suffering, sweating
drops of blood.
In this moment of distress, Satan
appears, portrayed as a bald androgynous figure robed in black. The scene is a creative parallel to the
temptation of Eve in the Garden of Eden. Satan asks, "Do you really
believe one man can bear the full burden of sin? No one can. It is too costly.
No one. Never." Jesus takes comfort in promises of the Psalms; "Shelter
me, O Lord; I trust in you; I take refuge in you." Satan probes further, "Who is
your father? Who are you?" Jesus prostrates himself upon the ground
as he intensifies his prayer. Satan
looks down, and a worm crawls out of one of his nostrils and into the other,
while a snake
crawls from beneath his robes toward the prone Jesus. Jesus
prays, "Let this cup pass from me," but concludes, "Thy will be done." He stands
with a look of triumph on his face,
stomps forcefully on the head of the serpent (Genesis 3:15), and goes to meet the temple guards who have
come to arrest him. After the arrest of Jesus,
attention shifts to his mother, Mary. She's gone to bed, but wakes suddenly and asks
out loud, "Ma nishtanah halailah hazeh mikol haleilot?" ("Why is this night different from all other nights?").
This line was suggested by the actress, Maia Morgenstern, who is herself Jewish,
and Gibson thought it an appropriate way to accent Christian belief that Jesus is the Paschal Lamb
whose blood
brings deliverance from slavery to sin. Gibson has
many scenes which highlight the relationship between Jesus and his mother. In
one flashback, Mary is fixing supper and calls Jesus, who is in his carpentry
shop working on a table. It's a playful and humorous exchange that is Gibson's
own creation. In another, Mary run down a side street to try to get ahead of the
crowds and see Jesus face-to-face; she sees him fall under the weight of the
cross, and Gibson flashes back to a scene of Jesus as a small child, falling,
with Mary running to comfort him. These flashbacks
serve a number of purposes. Some, like those I just mentioned, give us some
backstory, underscoring the prior relationship Jesus had with someone. Others
serve as counterpoint to the scene before us; for example, when Pilate washes
his hands after sentencing Jesus, Jesus recalls how he had washed the feet of
his disciples before his Last Supper. Others help to break up the violence.
Still others accent theological points, and Catholics are going to be
particularly impressed with those that connect the Last Supper of Jesus with the
crucifixion. In three of the four Gospels, the Last Supper is a Passover meal
(in John, Jesus dies as the Passover lambs are being sacrificed).
Mel shows Jesus unwrapping the matzo, and then cuts to show Jesus stripped of
his clothes by the Romans. Jesus raises a
piece of matzo in blessing, saying, "This is my body, which is given for you," and the cross is raised to the sky.
Jesus passes a cup
of wine to John, saying, "This cup is the new testament in my blood, which is
shed for you," and we then see John watching the blood
dripping from his hands and feet. Gibson makes use
of imagery from Catholic tradition and devotion, such as the Stations of the
Cross and Michelangelo's Pietá. This underscores the fact that the film
is not a historical dramatization, but is a work of devotion. When Jesus
has died, a Roman soldier pierces his side with a spear,
and blood and water flow from the wound and cascade over him; he kneels, a look
of prayerful wonder on his face, as the shower continues to rain down upon him.
Christians have often spoken of the blood from the side of Jesus as a symbol of the cleansing of baptism.
These are interesting artistic details and theological
accents, but the most important reason why so many Christians love this movie is because
it focuses on what Christians believe to be the center of our faith: the cross
of Christ. Christianity is not simply a religious philosophy based on the
teachings of Jesus. We believe Jesus died for our sins, as our substitute. We
believe, and Gibson makes this clear, that Jesus gave himself freely, willingly.
Jesus says in the Gospel, and in the movie, "No man takes my life from me; I lay
it down of my own free will."
Catholic churches generally have a large crucifix hanging
over the altar. On that altar they celebrate the Eucharist, the memorial of the
death of Jesus and the sacrifice of the New Covenant. The high point of their calendar is the
Triduum, the three days of
Holy Thursday, Good Friday, and Easter, when they celebrate the
"Paschal mystery," the death and resurrection of Jesus, the Lamb of God. In
light of the resurrection, they, like all Christians, see the cross not as a Roman device of torture,
but as the tree of life.
The secular media doesn't understand this, and finds it
easy to mock Gibson for focusing on the Passion instead of on those teachings of
Jesus that the world finds easier to hear (if not to practice). And because so
many in the media have done this, many Christians have responded defensively to
any criticism, going to an extreme, at times, of suggesting that criticism of
Gibson's film is tantamount to criticism of the Gospels and the Christian faith.
Sed contra
...
It is easy to understand why so many Christians are caught
up by the power of the film. And I think this can help to explain why they
usually fail to notice its problems--and these are many. Gibson is not merely
telling the Gospel account, but adds to it in ways that consistently accent the
culpability of Jews.
In the Scriptural account, Jesus is snatched quietly, at
night, to avoid the crowds. Jesus is willing to go quietly, and keeps the
disciples from fighting back. He is held while the high priest gathers his
council. During it, there is some physical abuse by the guards and some taunting
and one slapping of his face, but the Gospel writers don't elaborate on this or
draw it out. Then he is delivered to Pilate.
Gibson changes the tenor of all these scenes, making them
more dramatic, more violent, more frightening. He also adds scenes that
contradict explicit statements in Scripture. In Mel's version, the beating of Jesus begins immediately
upon his arrest. He is wrapped in chains and ropes, beaten
with fists, chains, and sticks, and then thrown off a bridge. These added beatings, by Jews, and the behavior of
the Jews in subsequent scenes, make them appear to be an overwhelmingly bloodthirsty, barbarous people. Jews are depicted in customary stereotypes, as greedy and money-grubbing,
who can be easily bought off in the middle of the night.
Jesus is dragged to the temple complex, and is a bruised and bloody mess. In the
courtyard, his eyes meet those of a man who is working on something--shaping
something made of wood (a remnant, no doubt, of a scene from Emmerich that was
reportedly in the initial script showing the cross being made in the High Priest's courtyard by
Jews). Entering the
Sanhedrin chamber we find perhaps a
hundred people crammed into the room, anxious for the spectacle to begin. The
"trial" is a farce. Two Jewish leaders object, but it is
clear that these are meant to be Nicodemus and Joseph of Arimathea, who believed
in Jesus. They are tossed out. When Jesus declares
himself the Messiah, the remaining priests, starting with Annas and Caiaphas, take turns hitting and spitting on
Jesus, and then the guards and observers join in, beating him with sadistic glee.
He is then taken to the Romans. Pilate had been told of
his arrest, with the explanation that "the Pharisees apparently hate the man."
(It is important to note that aside from Matthew's mention that some of the men in the arresting party were
sent by the Pharisees, the Pharisees play no role in the Gospel accounts of the
Passion.) The Jewish leaders are
seen almost as the equals of the Romans--even people the Romans fear (which is, of course, contrary to
history). The Jewish high priest at the time was a Roman appointee, answerable to
Pilate.
Gibson's Pilate is a weak and indecisive administrator who grouses about the
rabble and about being stuck in this stinking outpost. When the crowd gathers in the courtyard of the Praetorium,
Pilate goes out and, seeing Jesus for the first time, is disgusted by what the
Jews have done. He asks the priests, “Do you always punish them before you judge
them?”
Pilate questions Jesus in Aramaic and is surprised when
Jesus replies in Latin. Finding nothing wrong with him, but seeing the crowd is
restless, Pilate sends Jesus to Herod Antipas. Gibson's inspiration for his depiction of Herod
seems to come not from Scripture, but from "Jesus Christ Superstar." He is a
bored effeminate playboy, who quickly tires of this prophet who will not work a
miracle for him, and sends him back to Pilate.
Pilate muses, “If I don’t condemn him, Caiaphas will
rebel. If I do, his followers will. Either way there will be bloodshed.”
Soldiers inform him that there is already an uprising. The priests, temple
guards, and people are growing ugly. Pilate is scared,
but doesn't show it. His servant, however, pouring wine, is shaking, and the lip
of the pitcher rattles against the chalice in Pilate's hand. The crowd grows
louder, and will not listen to Pilate. Caiaphas smirks at him, then turns to the
crowd, silences them, and asks, "Have you no respect for our governor?" The
crowd laughs.
Pilate offers to release a prisoner to them, and gives them
a choice between Barabbas, depicted
as a hideous buffoon, and Jesus. The Jews call for Barabbas, and Caiaphas demands
that Jesus be crucified. Pilate is taken aback. He decides to have Jesus beaten, thinking this will
satisfy their bloodlust.
Jesus is taken to an inner courtyard. The priests go
in, watching behind a line of soldiers under an arch (according to John, though,
the Jews refused to enter the Praetorium). Jesus is beaten first with canes until he collapses. There’s a pause. Jesus
stands. The Romans are perturbed. They get the flagellum, a multi-stranded whip
ending in metal hooks. One soldier hits a table
with it, and the
whip sticks fast in the surface of the
table. They begin to apply it to Jesus’ back, and it sticks there, ripping skin away
when it is pulled back. The
violence goes on longer than any human could withstand. The camera lingers,
fascinated, voyeuristic. Satan appears, first behind the Jewish priests, then
circling the scourgers. The Romans turn Jesus
over, and repeat the flagellation on his front. Satan appears with a baby in his
arms; the baby turns, and we see it is a hideous dwarf demon (a parody of well-known
images in Christian art of the Madonna and child). The only breaks in the violence are to follow Mary as she leaves the
scene, unable to watch any more. She will wipe up the
blood afterwards, using towels given to her by Pilate's wife.
The centurion comes and is appalled by what he sees: “You were ordered to punish him, not to
scourge him to death.” Jesus is taken inside, where he is crowned with thorns, covered in a robe, and
beaten and taunted more before being returned to Pilate. He is shocked that even this
is not enough to satisfy the Jews. The Jews do not wince at the tortured form before them, but
immediately cry for his crucifixion. Pilate washes his hands (we see a flashback
to Jesus washing the feet of the disciples at the Last Supper) and the crowd shouts,
gleefully, “His blood be upon us and our children” (though these words are not subtitled). Pilate says to his men, “Do as they wish.”
The crosses are brought out; the two thieves carry only the crossbeams,
rough-hewn. Jesus is presented with a full cross, carefully fashioned. He
embraces it with joy, quoting the psalm, "I am your servant, and the son of
your handmaid."
The procession to Calvary appears to be a religious event, led by priests riding
donkeys; flashbacks recall Palm Sunday. The crowds lining the road this time are
largely hostile and merciless, berating and pummeling Jesus as he passes. The Romans
beat them back. There are scenes of women wailing in sympathy; one, Veronica,
comes to wipe the face of Jesus and offer him water. When Simon of Cyrene
is ordered by the Romans to help Jesus carry the cross, he hesitates, but women
in the crowd urge him on, saying that this is a holy man. Some say these two
figures are proof that Gibson is not painting all Jews as evil—but these are all
figures that Christian tradition says were believers in Jesus.
Arriving at Calvary, Jesus is nailed to the cross. Again the
violence is exaggerated and excessive. Following a scene that is in both Mary of
Agreda and Emmerich, holes have been drilled into the cross to accept the nails.
After the Romans have nailed Jesus' left hand to the cross, they see that the
hole on the right side is too far away, and tying a rope around his right wrist,
they pull to make it reach. They flip the cross over to bend down the tips of
the nails. Jesus is not pressed into the earth, however; the cross miraculously
hovers about a foot off the ground. The Romans finish, then flip the cross over
the other way.
Jesus' cross bears a sign indicating his crime, "The King of the Jews,"
but contrary
to the Gospels, it is not in three languages (Greek is missing) and the priests do not object. One
of the
thieves crucified alongside Jesus taunts him to save himself and them. The crowd joins in the taunting, as
does the High Priest, who says, “If he is the Messiah, let him come down that we
may believe.” Caiaphas walks around as if he is the senior official presiding
over the execution.
Jesus prays, "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do,"
and one of the thieves says (as in Scripture), “Listen, he prays for you. We
deserve this, but he doesn’t. Lord, remember me when you come into your
kingdom.” Jesus promises that he will be in paradise. The other thief laughs, whereupon a crow drops from heaven, lands
on the top of his cross, and pecks out his eyes.
Hardly an answer to that prayer for forgiveness, is it?
The sky turns black; thunder and lightning signal a storm, and the priests and
most of the onlookers leave. A Roman soldier, Cassius, lets Mary approach. He
had
shown her sympathy several times along the way, casting nervous glances at her,
asking another soldier about her in wonder (he is the soldier who will thrust
his spear into Jesus' side after his death).
When
Jesus dies, the camera angle shifts so that we are now looking down on Calvary
from a height. A drop of rain condenses; the
camera follows it down to the ground, where it hits with explosive force, and an
earthquake rocks the hill. Pilate is rattled. The temple is hit hardest; a chasm
opens in the floor, tearing the veil; rocks fall on the priests. The sense is
clearly one of divine judgment (like the crow eating the eyes of the thief). The drop of
rain is like a divine tear; we see a picture of God as grieving in human
fashion, his grief quickly turning to anger, and lashing out, not at the Romans,
but at the Jews, and particularly at the Jewish religious authorities and the
temple.
Catholics and Jews, 40 years after
Nostra Aetate
The cumulative effect of Gibson's depiction of the Jews is
troubling, recalling the excesses of medieval passion plays and Oberammergau, minus only a horned headdress for the high priest.
It reminds us of the painful history we share, in which Jews for centuries
suffered humiliation and oppression at the hands of Christians. Christianity began as a sect of Judaism, but by the end of
its second century the break was complete. There were of course tensions
immediately, but these were tensions within the Jewish community. The rapid
influx of Gentiles into Christianity, and the decision of the apostles not to
require Torah observance of them, changed the dynamic; Christian leaders became
suspicious if these Gentile believers showed interest in adopting Jewish worship
or dietary practices. After the destruction of the temple in 70, and the
destruction of Jerusalem following the Bar Kochba revolt of 135, Christians had
political reasons to try to dissociate themselves from Jews. When Christianity
became not only a legal religion, but the official religion of the Roman empire,
faith became identified with patriotism, and lack of faith with treason.
Christian bishops like John Chrysostom, and emperors like Constantine, railed
against the Jews. They were called "Christ-killers." It was said they had
rejected the Messiah, and had in turn been rejected by God, replaced by a new
people, the Church. Legislation at first simply regulated the interaction
between Jews and Christians--and then endorsed persecution and pogroms.
Pope John XXIII made a fresh start for Catholics, beginning with one of
the first meetings he had with Jewish leaders after his election as pope in
1958, when he said to them, "I am Joseph, your brother." The following
year, he removed a traditional prayer for "the perfidious Jews" from the
Church's Good Friday liturgy. He convened the Second Vatican Council, a worldwide
gathering of the Catholic bishops, which issued an historic "Declaration on the Relation of the Church to
Non-Christian Religions,"
Nostra Aetate
(October 28, 1965). In it, the bishops rejected the charge of Deicide and repudiated belief in supercessionism,
saying, "God holds the Jews most dear for the sake of their Fathers; He
does not repent of the gifts He makes or of the calls He issues."
True, the Jewish authorities and those who followed their
lead pressed for the death of Christ;(13) still, what happened in His passion
cannot be charged against all the Jews, without distinction, then alive, nor
against the Jews of today. Although the Church is the new people of God, the
Jews should not be presented as rejected or accursed by God, as if this followed
from the Holy Scriptures.
Then, in the Jubilee Year of 2000, Pope John Paul II
had a special Day of Pardon
on March 12, calling Catholics to a "profound examination of conscience," and urging us
to pray for forgiveness, for the past sins of Christians against the Jewish
people. Two years later, Jewish and Catholic leaders
issued
Reflections on Covenant and Mission,
which summarized the results of forty years of dialogue. The Catholics
underscored their conviction that the Church should not have ministries which
target Jews for conversion. It quoted Cardinal Walter Kasper,
God’s grace, which is the grace of Jesus Christ according
to our faith, is available to all. Therefore, the Church believes that Judaism,
i.e. the faithful response of the Jewish people to God’s irrevocable covenant,
is salvific for them, because God is faithful to his promises.
The Jewish participants suggested,
Why not articulate a common agenda? Why not join together our spiritual forces to state and to act upon the values we share in common and that lead to repair of the unredeemed world?...
Despite this progress, there have been clouds along the
way.
- Some Catholics rejected Vatican 2, most infamously, the
Society of St. Pius X, founded by Archbishop Marcel Lefebvre, who could accept
neither the changes in the liturgy nor the Council's new teachings on the Jews
and religious liberty.
- Around the time of the council, questions began to be raised over the wartime role of Pope Pius XII,
starting with the publication of Rolf Hochhuth's play, The Deputy
(which is the basis for the movie Amen,
2002). Today, Catholic and Jewish scholars are working together to come to an
understanding, but some Catholic apologists not only defend Pius XII's
silence, but even regard him as the greatest friend the Jews had at the time.
-
Later, there was controversy when Pope John Paul II
announced that he would canonize the philosopher Edith Stein, who converted to
Catholicism in 1922, and became a Carmelite nun, St. Theresa Benedicta of the Cross. She was one of many converts who were rounded up by the Nazis in response to the Dutch bishops' protest of the treatment of the Jews,
and died in Auschwitz in 1941. Did she die as a Christian or as a Jew? Is this an attempt to "Christianize" the Holocaust? Related to this was the controversy over the building of a Carmelite convent on the grounds of Auschwitz in 1984. The
nuns said they wanted to pray for all victims of genocide and hate. A new building erected in 1993 off the property.
-
Reflections on Covenant and Mission was greeted with a tremendous negative reaction. Avery Dulles wrote a critique in the Jesuit magazine America,
and other criticisms appeared in conservative publications. Mother Angelica’s
EWTN spoke of "the apostasy of the last days." Some on the "Traditionalist"
fringe of Catholicism responded by reciting anti-Jewish libels rarely heard
today. The document was taken off the USCCB webpage.
The controversy over "The Passion of the Christ" is
one chapter in the relatively new endeavor of positive Catholic-Jewish
relations, and is related to many of these other chapters. When Mel Gibson first began to talk about his plans, Jewish
and Catholic scholars became concerned. Rabbi Eugene Korn of the ADL and Dr.
Eugene Fisher of the USCCB convened a team of scholars to evaluate a copy of the
script that was sent to them. Among those scholars were some of the same people involved in
writing "Reflections on Covenant and Mission." Mel Gibson, on the other hand, is
associated with those Catholic "Traditionalists" who reject Vatican 2.
Looking back over the controversy, many people have found it
easy to blame the Anti-Defamation League, accusing them of creating a crisis
unnecessarily through belligerent press releases. Some cynics suggest they did
it just to increase fund-raising. Other Jewish organizations, such as the
American Jewish Committee, have approached the problem in a different way,
focusing on building community relations and developing educational materials.
I think both approaches are right, and necessary. We live in a time of resurgent
antisemitism. We are not like the mice in the fable who wondered how to bell the
cat; it has been “belled,” and we dare not ignore the tinkling sound when we
hear it. Antisemitism must be met head on, wherever it arise, and I commend
organizations like the ADL and the Simon Wiesenthal Center for their vigilance.
But the task of confronting it must not fall on Jews alone, but must be the
common work of Jew and Christian alike—and we must thank organizations like the
American Jewish Committee, and the scholars and clergy who participate in study
and official dialogues for the work they do in building bridges.
We stand at a critical point in Jewish-Christian relations.
It is a time of confusion and emotion, but also a time of opportunity. This
movie can result in much good, if we take advantage of the opportunity. First, we must actively seek to revive Jewish-Christian dialogue on the grassroots level, so that the positive results of 40 years of dialogue can penetrate to the local level.
This is already happening. Secondly, we need to engage in positive collaboration in those areas where we can work together to "repair the world." Through talk and action, we will, lastly, establish the
sort of relationships we need so that when tough issues arise, we can discuss them candidly,
listening from the heart to the concerns of the other.
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