Encouragement
Why I have not seen “The Passion.”
By Matthew Boedy
I am one of the few people, few Christians who has not seen “The Passion of the Christ.’’ My church bought many seats, my friends offered to go with me, but I haven’t seen it.
Mel Gibson’s movie has been hailed as a visual masterpiece. It is the optic confrontation that so intrigues people. It’s gruesome, it’s horrid, and some say it’s overly violent. Gibson has said he wanted to incite emotions not from the reasons of who and why but from the pictures of the crucifixion itself. He wanted the movie to be overly violent because it was the best way to dramatize the very core of the film – the passion, the pathos, the suffering of Jesus.
Gibson knows all too well we are a visual society. It’s the pictures, the images, the visuals of this world that confront our postmodern times, not the words of a long-forgotten voice in the sky.
In this visual world, as Christians, we are honored then when we deny ourselves the things we should not see. I am proud to have Internet blocking software on my computer. I am proud that when the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit issue came in the mail the other day I immediately threw it in the trash. I am proud that when the lingerie commercial came on the television, I turned the channel.
And I am proud that instead of staring and fantasizing, I moved to avoid having my line of sight include the lace underwear squirting from the back of the pants of the girl I was sitting behind at church.
I am honored to say there are some things we should not see.
But I am ashamed that there are some things I do not want to see.
Many people have left the movie theater in tears. Most leave in silence.
Tears and silence are two signs of shame. The third sign of shame is where our eyes go.
Did you cringe because of the violence in front of you or the violence in you? Did you turn away from the sin-fed beating in front of you or the sin-induced beating you give yourself? Did you cry because of the body fully broken in front of you or the heart not quite yet broken inside of you?
We’re both ashamed – you for watching and me for not.
Our eyes turn away when we are ashamed. They look down, they revert toward our feet.
I have not seen “The Passion’’ because I am ashamed. You’re ashamed because you have.
We are both naked in the public square, staring at our feet. We are the woman caught in adultery. Remember her? She was dragged from a bed of lust, a bed probably created by the entrapment of her lover and his cohorts, to the open square of disgrace and used as a pawn.
She’s sure to be stoned and surely ashamed. And her eyes are focused on the dirt at her feet.
I am that woman. I have been dragged in front of friends, naked and ashamed that I was just a few minutes earlier passionately clutching my idols.
I am ashamed I had to place an Internet blocking software on my computer. I am ashamed I stopped for a few minutes on the channel that showed “The Making of the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue.’’ I am ashamed of the countless times I have not moved in church.
And I am ashamed I can’t watch my Savior being crucified for me. I am ashamed because the way I live is less than equal to the way he died.
And in my shame the world calls me out. Hypocrite. Fake. Sinner.
They wanted me to fail, to leave these dos and don’ts. They wanted me to see what they’re missing. Just for a moment. And so I did.
It is the same with the woman. For a few moments, I assume, she gave into her sin. Not like the woman at the well with five husbands and a live-in boyfriend, this woman may be just a few minutes removed from making one wrong decision. The man she was with - the one she may have thought wanted her, may have thought would stay and protect her, defend her, or at least love her for a few heightened moments - is long gone.
The crowd has stones in their hands. All eyes are on her.
I am her. The idols I cling to – or rather the idol I cling to – myself – is not enough to defend me. My security, my identity, is gone. The woman no longer has a name, a family, a future. She is forever as they call her out: “a woman caught in adultery.’’
I am ashamed and my head is bowed.
And then it begins. I am not just a target for rocks, but a target for the game my accusers hope to lure Jesus in to.
The victor is clear but how he wins is more important. Especially to my shame.
What does Jesus start to do? He is being pestered by questions from the crowd – orders, really, to stone her. And standing just a few feet from the woman, he kneels and begins to draw in the sand.
Is he writing? What is he writing? Some has speculated he wrote the sins of the accusers. Maybe what he is writing wasn’t intended for them, but for her.
Is he scratching words where she can see them? G-R-A-C-E? L-O-V-E? Or maybe the Lord of the universe is writing her name. My name. Not just what I’ve done – adultery – but who I am.
Whatever Jesus wrote, it’s not important as the writing itself. I am no longer looking at the ground around my feet. My accusers have stopped staring at me. They are befuddled by and now gawking at the man who ignores them.
Shame starts in the heart, but it is magnified in the crowd. So the woman caught in adultery - naked and ashamed – no longer is the center of attention once Jesus begins to write. Her shame is taken away. No one is looking at her anymore. In fact, they are walking away because they now are ashamed.
We have it backwards as Christians. We have been forgiven yet we often live in shame. It takes us so long to return from the foreign sty. So as you watched your Savior being beaten, whipped, crowned with thorns, and finally killed for your guilt, were you ashamed you have not lived up to it?
What are you looking at? Are you staring at the ground around your feet?
“Has no one condemned you?”
There are things we should not see. We should not see our shame. We should not see our sin. They have long been removed.
“Than neither do I condemn you.”
But there are things I am ashamed I don’t want to see. I don’t want to see my sins. I don’t want to see them up on that cross, personified in the hands that hold the hammer that hit the nails.
I am the woman caught in adultery. And blessed am I, blessed are we because we are the ones who are told to be ashamed no more. We are the passion of the Christ. We are the ones he loves.
“Go then and leave your life of sin.”
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