Last Lent, I watched The Passion of The Christ every Friday afternoon ending with Good Friday. It made for a remarkable Lent.
I saw it seven times. I can say with authority that one should see the film at least twice; the first time is just to get through the shock. Each week as Friday approached, I didn’t know if I was going to make it through another viewing. It wasn’t easy. I prayed a lot.
The theatre complex was in a mall and as I would walk from the parking lot, I often felt as if I were approaching a cathedral rather than a commercial shopping center. I felt as if I were in a dream. I would pass through the shoppers and think, “It is a church, but these people just don’t know.”
Once the film started, I sometimes thought I would have to leave, usually during Jesus’s trial proceedings. It was like hitting a wall, and I would get dizzy and tired, but once I got through the moment, I had the stamina to persevere.
Like the film itself, my experiences ranged from the mundane to the sublime. The film is mundane as you see Jesus carry His Cross through the marketplace and you know that people will go on buying and selling their chickens after He passes through. Other times, it is beautifully surreal, even strange. But it was a strange event, the Son of God being put to death.
I saw lots of interesting people attending this film. I noticed a lot of older folks who looked like they didn’t regularly visit the cinema. One young man appeared to be helping his tiny great-grandmother as she slowly hobbled to the entrance with a cane. I stopped and motioned them to go ahead of me. He smiled gratefully.
More folks than I like to admit ate popcorn, although this was mostly before the movie and in the beginning of it. Eating popcorn at a movie is so deeply ingrained a habit for people of our culture, that it doesn’t even occur to them that it might not be appropriate for this film. Personally, I couldn’t even take a swig of my water bottle for fear of being too irreverent while Jesus was suffering.
Once, a woman behind me narrated the whole story for her husband. “That’s Jesus.” “That’s Judas.” “That’s Judas kissing Jesus.” “That’s Pontius Pilate.” “That’s Pontius Pilate washing his hands.”
She didn’t understand the Satan character or artistic license at all. “What’s he doing there?” “Who’s he?” Even at the end, she said, “I wonder what he was doing in there.”
When something happened on screen that wasn’t in the Bible, she would say, “That didn’t happen.” She said this so many times that by the end of the movie, I was exasperated and wanted to turn around and say, “How do you know? Were you there? Do you think every single thing that happened had to be in the Bible?”
When Jesus, from the Cross, gives His mother to the beloved disciple John, the woman said to her husband, “That’s Philip.” I smiled and wondered why her husband never said a word.
At the end of the film, I really, really wanted to turn around and look at them. But I knew it would be a sin, so I didn’t.
On another occasion, two women sat behind me eating popcorn and chatting. I thought about moving my seat. Then the scourging began and they stopped talking. Abruptly, one stood up and said, “I’m getting out of here. I don’t go in for movies like this.” Her friend followed her out.
Movies like this? Since when are there movies like this?
Great saints have often spent much of their lives meditating on the Passion. I never understood that; I do not like meditating on the Passion. But I thought that maybe I could understand it a little if I saw this movie over and over.
At first, it was difficult. I couldn’t watch the scourging, or the crowning with thorns, or the nailing to the Cross. In fact, I don’t think I watched all of those scenes completely until the fourth time around. I had to pray for the courage to watch. But something happens to you as you watch. It is awful and beautiful at the same time. Beyond the suffering, one grasps the humiliation of Christ. You watch Him hanging on a cross, His eyes blinking, and you feel so badly for Him. His humiliation is palpable. I wish I could say that I have sorted it all out and can express it adequately, but I can’t. Perhaps it is ultimately inexpressible.
Each time I saw the film, I saw things in it I missed before. I saw campfires and the outline of the city on the distant hilltop in the opening shot. I know why Judas’s lips are blistered. I saw what is on Veronica’s veil. I know the precise moment when Jesus dies.
The characters and relationships in the film are incredible, especially between Jesus and Mary. Except for the Agony in the Garden, every time Jesus hesitates, it is His mother who helps Him through. And I love how the disciples all call Mary “Mother.”
The film has flaws, but a masterpiece is great in spite of its flaws. It overcomes them in its genius. And this film is holy. To speak of its flaws almost seems blasphemous. So I won’t speak of them.
When the film first came out, I thought it might be a vehicle for conversions. Instead, I think it is more for the edification of believers. Watching it, I can even understand why many have despised it. The whole story is absurd and a scandal. But it has always been thus.
Will I watch it again every Friday afternoon this Lent? I must say that I have noticed that I miss it. When I hear the soundtrack in a television commercial for the DVD, I always eagerly look up. I am still not anxious to see Jesus’s sufferings, but I want to see the people. It’s as if I am really getting a glimpse of Jesus, Mary, and His friends. So, while praying for strength, I probably will watch it again this Lent on Friday afternoons. For I fear I have become addicted to The Passion.
© Copyright 2005 Catholic Exchange
Katherine Andes is the co-author with Matt Pinto of Friendly Defenders Catholic Flash Cards. She is also a freelance commercial, proposal, and grant writer. You can write her at katherineandes@hotmail.com or visit her web site at KatherineAndes.com.
Deepen your journey into the unforgettable film, The Passion of The Christ, with the only authorized book that goes behind the scenes. Fr. John Bartunek, L.C., provides biblical, historical, and theological insights gleaned from hours spent on the set and interviews with the director, actors, and filmmaking crew. Inside the Passion is the most complete and thorough commentary on the movie you will read. Foreword by Mel Gibson. Click here for more information or to order.
