Articles

Spring 2011
By Alan Dowd

What do Sir Laurence Olivier, David Bowie and Charlton Heston all have in common? Believe it or not, they all had prominent roles in films depicting the end of Christ’s life.

When I think of that pivot-point moment in history, the mental picture that emerges is almost always a scene from some movie about Jesus. And sometimes I wonder, if I could splice together a collage from the films that explore the mystery of Jesus’ final week on earth—a movie of movies—what would it look like?

The following is my answer to that question—my own all-star cast of characters and key cinematic moments that help me grasp “how wide and long and high and deep is the love” Jesus showed for me on that Passover Friday.

This is not an exhaustive list, so don’t be offended if your favorite film isn’t mentioned—or if one you loathe is. The purpose here is to point out how films about Jesus’ death and resurrection can draw us closer to him. As Philip Yancey writes in The Jesus I Never Knew, viewing the same biblical event from the perspective of multiple filmmakers helps “to strip away the patina of predictability” that can build up over the years.[i]

There is a method to my movie madness. I purposely chose films from different periods and genres: a 1950s blockbuster; a non-committal, sometimes-silly musical from the non-committal, sometimes-silly 1970s; a gripping epic from the late 1970s; a provocative, postmodern portrayal from the 1980s; the very opposite from the 1990s, a word-for-word presentation of the Gospel of Matthew; and from the 2000s, a modern-day passion play.

Ben Hur (1959)
Best Scene: Jesus stooping down to serve Judah Ben Hur
Best depiction of God’s presence in our world

With its gleaming colors and sometimes-stilted language, Ben Hur lacks the realism of the other films in my “movie of movies.” What Ben Hur does contribute is its stirring depiction of God’s role in our lives and its damning depiction of Roman power.

Rome is fittingly portrayed as ruthless, unchecked, unsympathetic and amoral. As Judah Ben Hur (Charlton Heston) puts it, “Rome is an affront to God.” The words and actions of a Roman military leader underscore this. “Hate keeps a man alive,” he barks, conveying the very opposite of the gospel message that love brings abundant life.

In Ben Hur, as in the Book of Esther, where God is not mentioned but is everywhere, God plays His part just beyond our field of vision. He is in Judah Ben Hur’s survival amid the privations of slavery, in his encounter with the Roman general who adopts him, in the stranger who gives him water and hope, in the healing of his mother and sister.

The stranger, who is Jesus, is always just out of view but always central to the story. It’s as if the film is reminding us that God is with us, even when our eyes cannot see Him.

Jesus Christ Superstar (1973)
Best Song: I Don’t Know How To Love Him

For someone like me, without any training in film criticism, Superstar has always seemed off-kilter. The title says a lot. Jesus is portrayed not as God, but as a pop-culture phenomenon, a question mark. He is handsome, thronged by followers and conflicted. “There may be a kingdom for me somewhere,” the angst-ridden superstar sighs, “if I only knew.”

Plus, it’s a jumble of anachronisms and nonlinearity. Like the era in which it was made, everything in the musical seems relativistic, sexualized, unsacred, unshaven and un-showered. Of course, the same could be said of the Roman Empire in Christ’s day.

But the music is the focus here, and the music sometimes soars. Everyone knows the cymbal-crashing intro to the title song. It literally makes your heart beat a little faster. And then there’s the Magdalene character’s solo. Many of us can relate to the sweet, searching refrain she shares after encountering Jesus: “I don’t know how to love him, what to do, how to move him. I’ve been changed, yes really changed. In these past few days when I’ve seen myself, I seem like someone else…He scares me so.”

There is truth in those words. And more than that, there is something about those words that, I suspect, has driven many people closer to the Truth.

Jesus of Nazareth (1977)
Best Scenes: The conversion of Nicodemus, Peter’s Easter monologue, the Sanhedrin’s debate
All-Star Cast Members: Peter, Nicodemus, Pilate

By focusing completely on Jesus, Franco Zeffirelli’s Jesus of Nazareth does the very opposite of Ben Hur. In fact, Robert Powell’s Jesus often gazes directly into the camera with his piercing blue eyes, leaving a deep and lasting impression on us. When Jesus says, “This is my body,” he looks straight at us, imploring us to listen and believe. When he’s asked, “Are you the Son of God?” the camera locks on his eyes as he proclaims, “I am.”

One of the films many high points is its depiction of the Sanhedrin as a deliberative, divided body, searching for the right course of action. Some members want justice, some want calm. Some fear Rome more than they fear Jesus, some fear Jesus more than Rome.

“Jesus of Nazareth may be the Messiah awaited by our people,” Olivier’s Nicodemus declares. “The coming of the Messiah is at the heart of our faith. Why should he not come now?”

When the High Priest punches back, asking Nicodemus if he believes Jesus to be the Son of God, Nicodemus is silent. But the moment marks a turning point for Nicodemus.

Earlier in the epic, Nicodemus is confused by Jesus’ words about being born again. But within eyeshot of the cross, he is overwhelmed by what he sees and whispers a passage from Isaiah.

“He was despised and rejected of men.” The tears begin to well. “He was oppressed and afflicted, brought as a lamb to slaughter…Surely he hath borne our grief and carried our sorrows…He was abused for our iniquities. And through his wounds we are healed”—the camera moves in as Olivier’s eyes open wide to grasp the truth—“and born again.”

Finally, it all makes sense to Israel’s teacher.

Overworked, impatient and demanding, Rod Steiger’s Pilate is far more believable than the clinical and detached Pilate Bowie plays in The Last Temptation of Christ or the conflicted, sympathetic Pilate in The Passion of the Christ.

Although his self-described role is “to keep the peace and administer Roman justice,” Steiger’s Pilate finds himself drawn into a religious dispute among two Jewish factions. He wants to set Jesus free, but he also wants to keep the mob happy. He can’t do both. So the calculating and, ultimately, cowardly Pilate does what’s easy and defers to the crowd.

The film’s depiction of Peter’s fall and rise is deeply moving. As the rain pours down on this broken disciple, he screams, “My Lord! Please help me!” It’s a powerful picture of what Matthew wrote of Peter after the rooster crowed: “He went outside and wept bitterly.”

But the tears give way to transformation. Upon hearing Mary Magdalene’s report about the empty tomb, the disciples turn to Peter for direction.

“Do you believe her story?” Thomas sneers. “Do you, Peter?”

Peter answers quietly but firmly, “Yes.”

Again, the camera works its magic, closing in on Peter. “We accuse Judas of betraying him, but we all betrayed him.”

As Peter’s voice crescendos, he seemingly pulls the camera toward himself. “I know in my heart he has forgiven me”—he embraces Thomas, looks at John and turns his face squarely at the camera—“forgiven all of us.”

In an instant, the film becomes an altar call.

When the High Priest’s aide goes to inspect the empty tomb, his words are not taken from scripture but they are true. “Now it begins,” he gasps. “It all begins.”

The Last Temptation of Christ (1988)
Best Scene: Jesus declaring, “It is accomplished!”
Best depiction of Satan’s cunning and relentlessness

First things first, Martin Scorsese’s adaptation of the book by the same name includes a mountain of biblical problems and outright heresies—so many that I never recommend it. Moreover, the film’s grimy depiction of first-century life feels authentic but also briefly includes nudity, which makes it unacceptable for many believers—and understandably so.

Given those caveats, I sometimes wonder if those who deemed that no Christian should see the film missed the point amid all the controversy.

To be sure, this film is not the place to find doctrinal truths. After all, it’s been described as a “fictional reinterpretation.” But underneath the relativism and revisionism, it offers an inspiring, albeit challenging, message.

The film explores the mystery of Jesus’ human-divine duality—and how Jesus comes to grasp that he is, well, Jesus.

Yes, Willem Defoe’s Jesus is conflicted, unsure and sometimes weak. But he ultimately accepts his divine mission. And yes, he deals with temptation. It may be shocking to us, but the author of Hebrews wrestled with this very notion and concluded that Jesus “was tempted in every way” we are tempted.[ii] The God-sized difference between Jesus and us is that he never gave in to the tempter. And neither does Defoe’s Jesus, by the way. He never succumbs to the lures of lust. At one point, he’s even mocked for being a virgin.

Not surprisingly, the tempter plays a prominent role here. “You’re just like Adam,” the enemy hisses in the desert, trying to convince Jesus to take a different path than the one laid out by heaven. “The world doesn’t have to be saved,” Satan claims. “Imagine how strong we will be together,” he promises. But Jesus resists, inviting a chilling rejoinder from the fallen angel—and foreshadowing the temptation yet to come: “We’ll see each other again.”

The enemy keeps his promise at Golgotha. Nailed to a crooked cross, the dying Jesus hears a child’s voice. “I’m the angel who guards you,” she says. “Your father is a God of mercy, not punishment. If he saved Abraham’s son, don’t you think he would save His own? He’s tested you and He’s happy with you.”

It has the hint of truth. Indeed, it sounds like something a just God would tell his messenger to say.

The angel proceeds to help Jesus off the cross, and as Golgotha fades away she shows him an alternate life of self-indulgence and selfishness.

But then something unexpected happens. The camera flashes back to Jesus on the cross. His eyes open, his head lifts, his mouth widens into a grin and his voice exults: “It is accomplished!”

He has overcome the last temptation. For those who are able to make it to the end—through all the confused theology—it’s a moving scene. The rest of the movie may be forgettable, but the conclusion is literally a triumph.

The Gospel of Matthew (1993)
Best scenes: Jesus calling us to follow, Jesus interacting with children
Best depiction of Christ’s loving nature
All-Star Cast Member: Jesus

Bruce Marchiano’s Jesus is what I imagine our savior to be—full of life, personal and personable, fun and loving, and fun-loving. He carries kids around and stoops down to play. He sounds unrehearsed but thoughtful. He is smart but not Spock-like, human but not carnal, divine but approachable.

Unlike Powell, Marchiano’s Jesus treats the apostles as friends, not as students. Unlike Dafoe, Marchiano’s Jesus is certain and serious about his mission.

This is a Jesus that captures the passion of being human without sullying his divinity. He resolutely faces down the teachers of law. His voice often grows hoarse with anger, thundering at the Pharisees for their hypocrisy and empty ritual, “You blind men!”

He beams with joy as he breaks the bread and pours out the wine to reveal a new covenant. He weeps over Jerusalem and cries over Judas’ betrayal. And he carries his cross willingly.

The film is capped by a wonderful ending, with Jesus walking off into the distance, turning around to beckon us to follow, and then raising his hand in victory.

The Passion of the Christ (2004)
Best Scenes: The Son suffering, the Father looking down at Golgotha, Mary encountering Jesus
All-Star Cast Members: Mary, Simon of Cyrene

The Passion gets high marks for the setting, scenery and feel. The use of Aramaic and Latin transports us to first-century Judea, as does Mel Gibson’s careful choice of actors. There’s no blonde-haired, blue-eyed Messiah here.

The Passion uses powerful, clever imagery to depict hell’s high-water mark:

Satan is presented as a shadowy, androgynous figure smirking and lurking in Gethsemane, at the flogging, along the Via Dolorosa. “No man can carry this burden,” he hisses at Jesus. “It’s too heavy….Saving their souls is too costly.”
Demons taunt Judas all the way to his death.
A demon paralyzes one of the disciples in fear.
Black ravens swoop down to torment the unrepentant thief.
A snake tries to distract Jesus during his prayer in the garden. Jim Caviezel’s Jesus stomps on it, an unmistakable allusion to Genesis 3. “He will crush your head,” the Father tells the serpent, “and you will strike his heel.”

Indeed, there is nothing subtle about Gibson’s retelling of the crucifixion. It is bloody and brutal, horrific and sadistic.

The film’s critics are wrong to say that The Passion makes Jews out to be the villains. In fact, Gibson takes care to portray members of the Sanhedrin objecting to the treatment of Jesus. “This entire preceding is an outrage!” yells one teacher. Another calls the trial “a beastly travesty.”

In addition, the film embellishes the role of Simon the Cyrene, a Passover pilgrim. After trying in vain to go about his business, Simon takes up the cross and begins the long walk to Golgotha. Along the way, he sometimes carries Jesus, sometimes pulls him off the ground, sometimes exhorts him. At one point, the Christ and the Cyrene are literally arm-in-arm, supporting each other in the journey. The symbolism is poetic: Jesus is guiding the children of Abraham to a new covenant. And as this pilgrim walks with Jesus, he is transformed. By the time they reach Golgotha, Simon is covered with the blood of Jesus and has to be torn away from this sacrificial lamb.

Perhaps the film’s finest moment comes when Mary (Maia Morgenstern) sees Jesus fall under the weight of the cross, races to help him and then remembers picking him up when he was a child.

“I am here,” she whispers in her memory. “I am here,” she cries in that helpless moment halfway to Golgotha. Their eyes lock, and Jesus gasps, “See, mother, I make all things new.”

The moment is staggering and beautiful, reminding us that for Mary, Jesus was somehow more than her savior. He was her little boy. And she watched them—us—torture and murder him.

The Passion is the only of these films in which God the Father makes something of an appearance. As Jesus gives up his spirit, the camera pulls away from the cross, skyward, heavenward, until we are high above Golgotha and literally given a God’s eye view of the scene. We don’t realize this until that dramatic moment when the screen unexpectedly blurs and a tear falls from heaven, opening the floodgates for a storm.

The Beginning
These and other Jesus films shape our understanding of the week leading up to Christ’s death and resurrection, sometimes echoing scripture, sometimes distorting it, sometimes celebrating the Easter message, sometimes confusing it.

Yet despite all their imperfections and flaws, they still point us toward the Good News—depicting not only the end of Christ’s life, but the beginning of ours.

[i] Yancey, The Jesus I Never Knew, pp.22-23.

[ii] Hebrews 4:15.

	ALAN W. DOWD Looking Back and Thinking Ahead
HOME WELCOME ARTICLES ARCHIVES BIOGRAPHY FEEDBACK BLOG LINKS	A Passion for Film (unabridged) Spring 2011 By Alan Dowd What do Sir Laurence Olivier, David Bowie and Charlton Heston all have in common? Believe it or not, they all had prominent roles in films depicting the end of Christ’s life. When I think of that pivot-point moment in history, the mental picture that emerges is almost always a scene from some movie about Jesus. And sometimes I wonder, if I could splice together a collage from the films that explore the mystery of Jesus’ final week on earth—a movie of movies—what would it look like? The following is my answer to that question—my own all-star cast of characters and key cinematic moments that help me grasp “how wide and long and high and deep is the love” Jesus showed for me on that Passover Friday. This is not an exhaustive list, so don’t be offended if your favorite film isn’t mentioned—or if one you loathe is. The purpose here is to point out how films about Jesus’ death and resurrection can draw us closer to him. As Philip Yancey writes in The Jesus I Never Knew, viewing the same biblical event from the perspective of multiple filmmakers helps “to strip away the patina of predictability” that can build up over the years.[i] There is a method to my movie madness. I purposely chose films from different periods and genres: a 1950s blockbuster; a non-committal, sometimes-silly musical from the non-committal, sometimes-silly 1970s; a gripping epic from the late 1970s; a provocative, postmodern portrayal from the 1980s; the very opposite from the 1990s, a word-for-word presentation of the Gospel of Matthew; and from the 2000s, a modern-day passion play. Ben Hur (1959) Best Scene: Jesus stooping down to serve Judah Ben Hur Best depiction of God’s presence in our world With its gleaming colors and sometimes-stilted language, Ben Hur lacks the realism of the other films in my “movie of movies.” What Ben Hur does contribute is its stirring depiction of God’s role in our lives and its damning depiction of Roman power. Rome is fittingly portrayed as ruthless, unchecked, unsympathetic and amoral. As Judah Ben Hur (Charlton Heston) puts it, “Rome is an affront to God.” The words and actions of a Roman military leader underscore this. “Hate keeps a man alive,” he barks, conveying the very opposite of the gospel message that love brings abundant life. In Ben Hur, as in the Book of Esther, where God is not mentioned but is everywhere, God plays His part just beyond our field of vision. He is in Judah Ben Hur’s survival amid the privations of slavery, in his encounter with the Roman general who adopts him, in the stranger who gives him water and hope, in the healing of his mother and sister. The stranger, who is Jesus, is always just out of view but always central to the story. It’s as if the film is reminding us that God is with us, even when our eyes cannot see Him. Jesus Christ Superstar (1973) Best Song: I Don’t Know How To Love Him For someone like me, without any training in film criticism, Superstar has always seemed off-kilter. The title says a lot. Jesus is portrayed not as God, but as a pop-culture phenomenon, a question mark. He is handsome, thronged by followers and conflicted. “There may be a kingdom for me somewhere,” the angst-ridden superstar sighs, “if I only knew.” Plus, it’s a jumble of anachronisms and nonlinearity. Like the era in which it was made, everything in the musical seems relativistic, sexualized, unsacred, unshaven and un-showered. Of course, the same could be said of the Roman Empire in Christ’s day. But the music is the focus here, and the music sometimes soars. Everyone knows the cymbal-crashing intro to the title song. It literally makes your heart beat a little faster. And then there’s the Magdalene character’s solo. Many of us can relate to the sweet, searching refrain she shares after encountering Jesus: “I don’t know how to love him, what to do, how to move him. I’ve been changed, yes really changed. In these past few days when I’ve seen myself, I seem like someone else…He scares me so.” There is truth in those words. And more than that, there is something about those words that, I suspect, has driven many people closer to the Truth. Jesus of Nazareth (1977) Best Scenes: The conversion of Nicodemus, Peter’s Easter monologue, the Sanhedrin’s debate All-Star Cast Members: Peter, Nicodemus, Pilate By focusing completely on Jesus, Franco Zeffirelli’s Jesus of Nazareth does the very opposite of Ben Hur. In fact, Robert Powell’s Jesus often gazes directly into the camera with his piercing blue eyes, leaving a deep and lasting impression on us. When Jesus says, “This is my body,” he looks straight at us, imploring us to listen and believe. When he’s asked, “Are you the Son of God?” the camera locks on his eyes as he proclaims, “I am.” One of the films many high points is its depiction of the Sanhedrin as a deliberative, divided body, searching for the right course of action. Some members want justice, some want calm. Some fear Rome more than they fear Jesus, some fear Jesus more than Rome. “Jesus of Nazareth may be the Messiah awaited by our people,” Olivier’s Nicodemus declares. “The coming of the Messiah is at the heart of our faith. Why should he not come now?” When the High Priest punches back, asking Nicodemus if he believes Jesus to be the Son of God, Nicodemus is silent. But the moment marks a turning point for Nicodemus. Earlier in the epic, Nicodemus is confused by Jesus’ words about being born again. But within eyeshot of the cross, he is overwhelmed by what he sees and whispers a passage from Isaiah. “He was despised and rejected of men.” The tears begin to well. “He was oppressed and afflicted, brought as a lamb to slaughter…Surely he hath borne our grief and carried our sorrows…He was abused for our iniquities. And through his wounds we are healed”—the camera moves in as Olivier’s eyes open wide to grasp the truth—“and born again.” Finally, it all makes sense to Israel’s teacher. Overworked, impatient and demanding, Rod Steiger’s Pilate is far more believable than the clinical and detached Pilate Bowie plays in The Last Temptation of Christ or the conflicted, sympathetic Pilate in The Passion of the Christ. Although his self-described role is “to keep the peace and administer Roman justice,” Steiger’s Pilate finds himself drawn into a religious dispute among two Jewish factions. He wants to set Jesus free, but he also wants to keep the mob happy. He can’t do both. So the calculating and, ultimately, cowardly Pilate does what’s easy and defers to the crowd. The film’s depiction of Peter’s fall and rise is deeply moving. As the rain pours down on this broken disciple, he screams, “My Lord! Please help me!” It’s a powerful picture of what Matthew wrote of Peter after the rooster crowed: “He went outside and wept bitterly.” But the tears give way to transformation. Upon hearing Mary Magdalene’s report about the empty tomb, the disciples turn to Peter for direction. “Do you believe her story?” Thomas sneers. “Do you, Peter?” Peter answers quietly but firmly, “Yes.” Again, the camera works its magic, closing in on Peter. “We accuse Judas of betraying him, but we all betrayed him.” As Peter’s voice crescendos, he seemingly pulls the camera toward himself. “I know in my heart he has forgiven me”—he embraces Thomas, looks at John and turns his face squarely at the camera—“forgiven all of us.” In an instant, the film becomes an altar call. When the High Priest’s aide goes to inspect the empty tomb, his words are not taken from scripture but they are true. “Now it begins,” he gasps. “It all begins.” The Last Temptation of Christ (1988) Best Scene: Jesus declaring, “It is accomplished!” Best depiction of Satan’s cunning and relentlessness First things first, Martin Scorsese’s adaptation of the book by the same name includes a mountain of biblical problems and outright heresies—so many that I never recommend it. Moreover, the film’s grimy depiction of first-century life feels authentic but also briefly includes nudity, which makes it unacceptable for many believers—and understandably so. Given those caveats, I sometimes wonder if those who deemed that no Christian should see the film missed the point amid all the controversy. To be sure, this film is not the place to find doctrinal truths. After all, it’s been described as a “fictional reinterpretation.” But underneath the relativism and revisionism, it offers an inspiring, albeit challenging, message. The film explores the mystery of Jesus’ human-divine duality—and how Jesus comes to grasp that he is, well, Jesus. Yes, Willem Defoe’s Jesus is conflicted, unsure and sometimes weak. But he ultimately accepts his divine mission. And yes, he deals with temptation. It may be shocking to us, but the author of Hebrews wrestled with this very notion and concluded that Jesus “was tempted in every way” we are tempted.[ii] The God-sized difference between Jesus and us is that he never gave in to the tempter. And neither does Defoe’s Jesus, by the way. He never succumbs to the lures of lust. At one point, he’s even mocked for being a virgin. Not surprisingly, the tempter plays a prominent role here. “You’re just like Adam,” the enemy hisses in the desert, trying to convince Jesus to take a different path than the one laid out by heaven. “The world doesn’t have to be saved,” Satan claims. “Imagine how strong we will be together,” he promises. But Jesus resists, inviting a chilling rejoinder from the fallen angel—and foreshadowing the temptation yet to come: “We’ll see each other again.” The enemy keeps his promise at Golgotha. Nailed to a crooked cross, the dying Jesus hears a child’s voice. “I’m the angel who guards you,” she says. “Your father is a God of mercy, not punishment. If he saved Abraham’s son, don’t you think he would save His own? He’s tested you and He’s happy with you.” It has the hint of truth. Indeed, it sounds like something a just God would tell his messenger to say. The angel proceeds to help Jesus off the cross, and as Golgotha fades away she shows him an alternate life of self-indulgence and selfishness. But then something unexpected happens. The camera flashes back to Jesus on the cross. His eyes open, his head lifts, his mouth widens into a grin and his voice exults: “It is accomplished!” He has overcome the last temptation. For those who are able to make it to the end—through all the confused theology—it’s a moving scene. The rest of the movie may be forgettable, but the conclusion is literally a triumph. The Gospel of Matthew (1993) Best scenes: Jesus calling us to follow, Jesus interacting with children Best depiction of Christ’s loving nature All-Star Cast Member: Jesus Bruce Marchiano’s Jesus is what I imagine our savior to be—full of life, personal and personable, fun and loving, and fun-loving. He carries kids around and stoops down to play. He sounds unrehearsed but thoughtful. He is smart but not Spock-like, human but not carnal, divine but approachable. Unlike Powell, Marchiano’s Jesus treats the apostles as friends, not as students. Unlike Dafoe, Marchiano’s Jesus is certain and serious about his mission. This is a Jesus that captures the passion of being human without sullying his divinity. He resolutely faces down the teachers of law. His voice often grows hoarse with anger, thundering at the Pharisees for their hypocrisy and empty ritual, “You blind men!” He beams with joy as he breaks the bread and pours out the wine to reveal a new covenant. He weeps over Jerusalem and cries over Judas’ betrayal. And he carries his cross willingly. The film is capped by a wonderful ending, with Jesus walking off into the distance, turning around to beckon us to follow, and then raising his hand in victory. The Passion of the Christ (2004) Best Scenes: The Son suffering, the Father looking down at Golgotha, Mary encountering Jesus All-Star Cast Members: Mary, Simon of Cyrene The Passion gets high marks for the setting, scenery and feel. The use of Aramaic and Latin transports us to first-century Judea, as does Mel Gibson’s careful choice of actors. There’s no blonde-haired, blue-eyed Messiah here. The Passion uses powerful, clever imagery to depict hell’s high-water mark: Satan is presented as a shadowy, androgynous figure smirking and lurking in Gethsemane, at the flogging, along the Via Dolorosa. “No man can carry this burden,” he hisses at Jesus. “It’s too heavy….Saving their souls is too costly.” Demons taunt Judas all the way to his death. A demon paralyzes one of the disciples in fear. Black ravens swoop down to torment the unrepentant thief. A snake tries to distract Jesus during his prayer in the garden. Jim Caviezel’s Jesus stomps on it, an unmistakable allusion to Genesis 3. “He will crush your head,” the Father tells the serpent, “and you will strike his heel.” Indeed, there is nothing subtle about Gibson’s retelling of the crucifixion. It is bloody and brutal, horrific and sadistic. The film’s critics are wrong to say that The Passion makes Jews out to be the villains. In fact, Gibson takes care to portray members of the Sanhedrin objecting to the treatment of Jesus. “This entire preceding is an outrage!” yells one teacher. Another calls the trial “a beastly travesty.” In addition, the film embellishes the role of Simon the Cyrene, a Passover pilgrim. After trying in vain to go about his business, Simon takes up the cross and begins the long walk to Golgotha. Along the way, he sometimes carries Jesus, sometimes pulls him off the ground, sometimes exhorts him. At one point, the Christ and the Cyrene are literally arm-in-arm, supporting each other in the journey. The symbolism is poetic: Jesus is guiding the children of Abraham to a new covenant. And as this pilgrim walks with Jesus, he is transformed. By the time they reach Golgotha, Simon is covered with the blood of Jesus and has to be torn away from this sacrificial lamb. Perhaps the film’s finest moment comes when Mary (Maia Morgenstern) sees Jesus fall under the weight of the cross, races to help him and then remembers picking him up when he was a child. “I am here,” she whispers in her memory. “I am here,” she cries in that helpless moment halfway to Golgotha. Their eyes lock, and Jesus gasps, “See, mother, I make all things new.” The moment is staggering and beautiful, reminding us that for Mary, Jesus was somehow more than her savior. He was her little boy. And she watched them—us—torture and murder him. The Passion is the only of these films in which God the Father makes something of an appearance. As Jesus gives up his spirit, the camera pulls away from the cross, skyward, heavenward, until we are high above Golgotha and literally given a God’s eye view of the scene. We don’t realize this until that dramatic moment when the screen unexpectedly blurs and a tear falls from heaven, opening the floodgates for a storm. The Beginning These and other Jesus films shape our understanding of the week leading up to Christ’s death and resurrection, sometimes echoing scripture, sometimes distorting it, sometimes celebrating the Easter message, sometimes confusing it. Yet despite all their imperfections and flaws, they still point us toward the Good News—depicting not only the end of Christ’s life, but the beginning of ours. [i] Yancey, The Jesus I Never Knew, pp.22-23. [ii] Hebrews 4:15.
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