by Kim Thoday

Well finally after all the media hype and controversy, its finally hit Wide Screen, to the Max. Mad as it may seem, the man who shocked us with Thunderdome has seemingly pulled off a very different Block Buster. The Passion is now showing. And so is Mel’s.

Gibson is doing the rounds of interviews speaking openly about his passion. He says that in this film he has deliberately pushed the boundaries of violence and brutality. Gibson said of his passion: “For me, the blood and gore was necessary because that’s what I saw in my head.” It might be that on the level of a voyeuristic attention to the detail of violence that not so much has changed in Gibson’s head since Mad Max. Why our overt interest in torture? More particularly in this film, why such a lustful interest? Lust has about it the ability to become reality.

Gibson went on to say: “What moved me was the degree to which Jesus was willing to go for the love of everyone and to atone for their transgressions, that someone could endure extreme pain, suffering and ridicule and still come back with love and forgiveness.” There is no doubt that Gibson sees himself as a devout Christian. To a fair degree I affirm his sentiments at this point, especially his final emphasis upon the degree of Jesus’ love and forgiveness. Certainly his film captures this emphasis of the canonical Gospels. It is an emphasis that remains a thoroughly revolutionary challenge to the values of our dominant culture. Here the film has its most potential, the embodiment of the Gospel, that to find life, we must be prepared to lose it. And from this Gospel metonym, as Christians, we affirm the Gospel whole: that Jesus gave his life for the salvation of the world and all humankind.

Unlike most other films about Jesus, Gibson’s Jesus is a convincing one. It is a very moving portrayal. Jesus, whilst a relentlessly victimised character from beginning to end, is a strong character; it is a powerfully human portrayal. That is surely a positive quality against other familiar Jesus representations, i.e. ‘gentle Jesus meek and mild’ or the ‘super spiritual Jesus’ who is never really anyone we can identify with. Yet I think there is still a big problem in the film around the fundamental issue of identification. Does this Jesus speak to the contemporary world? Well partly, yes; and perhaps (time will tell) more, no. The film does highlight a violent world, a brutal world. It will have strong resonances with experiences of victimisation, injustice, political corruption and duplicity. But, and here is a big but. Does the film offer contemporary audiences a sense of underlying meaning in this depiction of Jesus’ final days? How does an ultimately loving and forgiving Jesus change this often dark and foreboding world? Is Jesus simply an atonement for sins? Is this archetype true to the Gospels and does it offer us a healthy view of being human? Is a total submission to the forces of evil a summation of what Jesus lived for and is it, in a one-dimensional sense, a fulfilling vision for humanity’s search for meaning?

Now it is true to say that there are some quite beautiful and compassionate moments in the film: Gospel portraits of Jesus’ ministry. However, overall this is entirely subsumed to a relentless focus upon victimisation, with a fixated gaze upon the gore and the horror. The problem for me is that Gibson is a wonderful film director, but he is no historian, nor theologian, nor evangelist. That may be okay. But that depends upon what Gibson is hoping to achieve. Certainly, it seems to me, there is a problem here for many Christians who are expecting this film to be the great evangelistic tool. Someone has said that perhaps the Roman Church’s tacit support for the film is a recognition that their telling of the story is not working and so maybe, just maybe, Mel’s will. The only problem with that is, is that the Passion is in many ways a re-telling (albeit a vividly cinematic one!) of the pre-Vatican II, telling. The film is essentially a technologically enhanced North German Medieval Passion Play. And that means that those who believe this film to be the genuine article, somehow depicting the true Jesus or the essential Gospel, give away their dogmatised, pre-Enlightenment, world-view.

Jesus, the passive victim of remorseless violence, is part of the early Gospel tradition, but only part. In this film, however, such a Christology thoroughly dominates. As I have said, there are glimpses (quite powerful glimpses) of the compassionate (healing) Jesus. Unfortunately, many important Christological themes of the Gospels are missing or largely diminished, such as Jesus – the charismatic, Jesus – the revolutionary, Jesus – the social reformer, Jesus – the rabbi and so on. Gibson does interweave a ‘teaching Jesus’ (mostly from Matthew) amidst a ‘suffering Jesus,’ but again, it is the icon of victim that dominates. Part of the problem stems from a focus largely upon ‘the Passion events’ leading to Jesus’ execution. Yet in the canonical Passion narratives some of these important Christological themes remain. So in Gibson’s film, the twin problems of a Medieval Roman portrayal persist, namely, a focus upon the trial and crucifixion of Jesus as the theological centre of the Gospel and a theological view that intense, tortuous, passive acceptance of violence, is next to Godliness.

I am not sure how this pre-Reformation, pre-Renaissance, Jesus, will speak to our times, with any sense of salvific or transformative challenge or meaning. Ironically, there is little real emphasis in the film of deep spirituality: of renewing, life-affirming, envisioning recreation of culture – which our era so desperately seeks. The film certainly leaves one with the impact that those were terrible times, and so there will be resonance with millions today living in brutal regimes and/or in abject poverty – the very ones who likely will never see the film. The brutality of the film, for me, was its abiding impact, rather than any profound Christological impact. How can an essentially out-moded, Roman, characterisation of Jesus, say anything meaningful to the postmodern era? And somewhat disturbingly, Gibson follows the iconography of the Roman fourteen ‘stations of the Cross’ – a Medieval, Franciscan , development of the tradition of Jesus’ procedure to the Cross subsequent to the scene in Pilate’s Praetorium, where he is condemned to death. One of these ‘stations,’ the sixth, is not at all canonical. This is where a woman, moved with compassion, wipes the sweat of death from Jesus’ face with a handkerchief, and the reward that comes to her for this iconic piety, is that the impression of Jesus’ divine countenance is miraculously imprinted upon the handkerchief. It is a legend, engrafted into the medieval Christian imagination, one thousand years after the events behind the Passion. Yet it is included in the film, a film that Gibson believes is an accurate depiction of the Passion of Jesus. This is highly symptomatic of Gibson’s lack of interest or unawareness of the last 150 years of historical and literary Biblical scholarship. It seems that such an enterprise as this film as an historical depiction, is a missed opportunity of monumental proportions.

The intricate subtleties of the Gospel writers, to a large extent are lost in the overall brutality and dogmatic influences upon the film. However, to be fair, there are moments of humanising, civilising transcendence. For instance, Jesus’ agony in the Garden of Gethsemane, Jesus restoring the servant’s ear, Simon of Cyrene, the depiction of the ‘good thief’ and the principle women of Jesus’ inner circle. However, again I would maintain that these moments are ultimately subsumed by a dogmatic and forensic interest in victimisation and brutality. The film’s metaphor of the devil as a woman throughout the film is based upon Gibson’s interest in the visions of a nineteenth century German mystic, and may be unhelpful to the contemporary sensibilities over gender issues.

Perhaps most mystifying is the film’s use of Latin for much of the dialogue. It may be that Gibson does this for aesthetic reasons. It certainly completes the picture of Medieval iconography. A more cynical reading would be that the film suggests that the story of Jesus was a product of the Roman telling of the story. Now that would be an imposition from above. However, if this were the case then one would expect the disciple Peter to play a far more prominent and positive role, whereas, this status in the film, is occupied by John. Exactly why Gibson has chosen to do this is hard to fathom, but ultimately (despite subtitles) it will not translate easily into the contemporary experience. Mind you, perhaps North American english and accent, would be just as problematic, but for different reasons.

Despite the many problems of historicity, theology and interpretation (relevance), there will be many people inspired and moved by this film. No doubt there will be those who will find faith in Jesus, having watched this film. There have been reports of this already. How far reaching that will be remains to be seen. I trust that we can, as Christian ministers and leaders, assist those who have seen the film with their questions and concerns. Moreover, for those who are not at all familiar with the Jesus’ story, I hope that at least this may provide an opportunity for the Church to guide and dialogue. The question that most burdens me is whether this telling of the Jesus’ story will meaningfully engage those for whom the Jesus’ story is not of interlacing substance for their lives and belief systems.

Grace and Peace In Jesus’ Name

Kim Thoday, Hewett Community Church of Christ, South Australia

http://www.hewett.org.au