Monday, February 23, 2004
Saving Mankind or Saving Private Ryan?
I read a fascinating review of Mel Gibson's movie The Passion of Christ on MSNBC. The author pointed out that Mel has an unhealthy passion for violence. He points out that Braveheart, The Patriot, and a number of other Gibson movies possess an overt glorification of blood and guts. This particular reviewer was grossed out and compared the movie to sadist pornography (an assertion with which I heartily concur - even without seeing the movie).
Granted, Gibson's depictions are always, "in context," and are "essential to the plot", but there is something grandiose, melodramatic and subsequently offensive in them. I don't expect The Passion to be any different. One more reason I won't go see the movie that extends beyond my conviction that this movie is a direct violation of the Second Commandment.
I remember when Saving Private Ryan came out. Everyone who went to see it came back and told me, "If you go, be ready to be overwhelmed in the first 15 minutes." The beach landing sequence was amazing and horrific. The image that will never leave me is a medic dragging a man across the beach who is missing his entire lower half. The human mind can fill in the blanks, but the "realism" was a bit more than anyone was prepared for. I anticipate Mr. Gibson's movie will be the same.
We all have some idea of what beating, thirst, hunger, loneliness and physical pain can do to a person. We also understand the logistics of crucifixion: the pain of the nails, the weight of the body against them, the slow and unrelenting exhaustion that leads to death through suffocation. We've seen the paintings, some of which are more benign than others. We've attended the "towel and bathrobe" church Easter pageants, where stage paint fills in for the gore and the terror. We know what happened, just as we know people were shot, maimed, blown up, abandoned, drowned and disfigured by World War II.
So what benefit is it to a Christian to watch Jesus be crucified all over again? All they will see is a man bound and put on trial. They will see every punch. They will watch the sweat from his brow sling out from his hair in slow motion at every blow. They will see the points of the thorns slip agonizingly beneath the skin. They will raptly sit without breathing as he is tied to the stake. They will grit their teeth and wince yet never turn from the screen as each stripe is laid on, the flesh of a man's back slowly disappearing into the pulp of his muscle tissue. They will sit on the edge of their seats as he is put on trial, the hands of a Roman official are washed, and the crowds clamor for more blood. They will watch the weight of a heavy beam be placed atop the seeping, oozing back, and they will groan inwardly as what is left of the man hobbles through the streets of Jerusalem.
They will be waiting for The Moment. Hating it, yet yearning for it, because it is the climax of The Show. They cannot imagine what it would be like to be pushed to the ground and nailed to a tree. The horror. The abject terror. The excruciating pain. And so they wait and wonder. And then they know. They see the nails pierce the wrist. They watch incredulous as the hammer collides again and again with the head of the nail. They count the strokes. They hope for the end. But the end does not come, because there are more nails to be driven. More flesh to be pierced. The images will roll over them like waves, the astonishment and the revulsion mixing to produce a rich and frothy cocktail of carnal sensations.
Only when the body is securely fastened to the wood do they relax. The worst, by their estimation, is over. They will continue to watch because they paid $8.50 for a ticket. They will continue to watch because they want to see how it ends. They will continue to watch because they have nothing better to do. They will get their money's worth, and they will drink the poison they purchased without concern for what it is doing to the REAL image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation.
Churches across the nation are buying out theaters to "evangelize" through this film. Christians are giddy over endorsements by the Pope (whatever you believe and however you feel about that), Pat Robertson, George Bush, Billy Graham and the like. The Body of Christ is no longer on the cross, but it is rushing out to see what it looked like when it was. Men will take their wives and their children. Co-workers will induce their "unsaved" friends to go. Neighbor will rise up with neighbor, and they will all march happily into the blackness to watch their Saviour be crucified over, and over, and over again.
I've heard people say, "It will help us to appreciate so much more what He did for us." They forget that a movie will never capture the spiritual dynamic of the event. No one will see the separation the Son of God, who was One with the Father experienced. There will be no depiction of the tearing apart of The Three and One. They will hear the words, "Why have You forsaken me?" They will see the tears and the anguish. But they will never comprehend the depth of despair that overwhelmed the Son of God and Son of Man in that moment.
They will never see Him descend into Hell, preach to the captives, or lead captivity captive in His train. They will never witness the resurrection as it really was, or lay eyes on the moment when the innocent Son, convicted and executed for a crime He did not commit, was vindicated by the Holy Spirit.
And the following Sunday, if they are bold enough to approach the communion rail, or take the cup and the wafer as it passes under their noses down the pew, they will remember Jesus. They will remember how bloody he was. They will remember how he thrashed as the nails bit into his body. They will remember the lighting, and the camera angle, and the way the blood ran down his brow "just so". They will recall the man-made image of God that now so vividly rests in their mind. They will come out of the movie saying, "This movie changed me." They will have no idea how changed they are.
Granted, Gibson's depictions are always, "in context," and are "essential to the plot", but there is something grandiose, melodramatic and subsequently offensive in them. I don't expect The Passion to be any different. One more reason I won't go see the movie that extends beyond my conviction that this movie is a direct violation of the Second Commandment.
I remember when Saving Private Ryan came out. Everyone who went to see it came back and told me, "If you go, be ready to be overwhelmed in the first 15 minutes." The beach landing sequence was amazing and horrific. The image that will never leave me is a medic dragging a man across the beach who is missing his entire lower half. The human mind can fill in the blanks, but the "realism" was a bit more than anyone was prepared for. I anticipate Mr. Gibson's movie will be the same.
We all have some idea of what beating, thirst, hunger, loneliness and physical pain can do to a person. We also understand the logistics of crucifixion: the pain of the nails, the weight of the body against them, the slow and unrelenting exhaustion that leads to death through suffocation. We've seen the paintings, some of which are more benign than others. We've attended the "towel and bathrobe" church Easter pageants, where stage paint fills in for the gore and the terror. We know what happened, just as we know people were shot, maimed, blown up, abandoned, drowned and disfigured by World War II.
So what benefit is it to a Christian to watch Jesus be crucified all over again? All they will see is a man bound and put on trial. They will see every punch. They will watch the sweat from his brow sling out from his hair in slow motion at every blow. They will see the points of the thorns slip agonizingly beneath the skin. They will raptly sit without breathing as he is tied to the stake. They will grit their teeth and wince yet never turn from the screen as each stripe is laid on, the flesh of a man's back slowly disappearing into the pulp of his muscle tissue. They will sit on the edge of their seats as he is put on trial, the hands of a Roman official are washed, and the crowds clamor for more blood. They will watch the weight of a heavy beam be placed atop the seeping, oozing back, and they will groan inwardly as what is left of the man hobbles through the streets of Jerusalem.
They will be waiting for The Moment. Hating it, yet yearning for it, because it is the climax of The Show. They cannot imagine what it would be like to be pushed to the ground and nailed to a tree. The horror. The abject terror. The excruciating pain. And so they wait and wonder. And then they know. They see the nails pierce the wrist. They watch incredulous as the hammer collides again and again with the head of the nail. They count the strokes. They hope for the end. But the end does not come, because there are more nails to be driven. More flesh to be pierced. The images will roll over them like waves, the astonishment and the revulsion mixing to produce a rich and frothy cocktail of carnal sensations.
Only when the body is securely fastened to the wood do they relax. The worst, by their estimation, is over. They will continue to watch because they paid $8.50 for a ticket. They will continue to watch because they want to see how it ends. They will continue to watch because they have nothing better to do. They will get their money's worth, and they will drink the poison they purchased without concern for what it is doing to the REAL image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation.
Churches across the nation are buying out theaters to "evangelize" through this film. Christians are giddy over endorsements by the Pope (whatever you believe and however you feel about that), Pat Robertson, George Bush, Billy Graham and the like. The Body of Christ is no longer on the cross, but it is rushing out to see what it looked like when it was. Men will take their wives and their children. Co-workers will induce their "unsaved" friends to go. Neighbor will rise up with neighbor, and they will all march happily into the blackness to watch their Saviour be crucified over, and over, and over again.
I've heard people say, "It will help us to appreciate so much more what He did for us." They forget that a movie will never capture the spiritual dynamic of the event. No one will see the separation the Son of God, who was One with the Father experienced. There will be no depiction of the tearing apart of The Three and One. They will hear the words, "Why have You forsaken me?" They will see the tears and the anguish. But they will never comprehend the depth of despair that overwhelmed the Son of God and Son of Man in that moment.
They will never see Him descend into Hell, preach to the captives, or lead captivity captive in His train. They will never witness the resurrection as it really was, or lay eyes on the moment when the innocent Son, convicted and executed for a crime He did not commit, was vindicated by the Holy Spirit.
And the following Sunday, if they are bold enough to approach the communion rail, or take the cup and the wafer as it passes under their noses down the pew, they will remember Jesus. They will remember how bloody he was. They will remember how he thrashed as the nails bit into his body. They will remember the lighting, and the camera angle, and the way the blood ran down his brow "just so". They will recall the man-made image of God that now so vividly rests in their mind. They will come out of the movie saying, "This movie changed me." They will have no idea how changed they are.
