Posted on 04/11/2004 9:26:57 AM PDT by proud American in Canada
After September 11, I wrote. The intensity of my emotions compelled me to write. I wrote a short story based on the heroes on Flight 93, who may have saved the White House by forcing the plane down into a Pennsylvania field. I wrote articles, one of which, had it been shorter, or I a faster editor, would have made the editorial pages of the Ottawa Citizen. Writing helped me to express and to understand the grief and rage, the anguish and love for my fellow human beings, that I felt at the sight of dozens of people taking the hand of a stranger and jumping to their deaths.
I am compelled to write again, having just experienced Mel Gibson's The Passion of the Christ. And yes, it is a film that is not watched, but experienced. It is a film with the power to change lives. After seeing it, several people have confessed to crimes, including one Florida man who told police that he had killed his girlfriend several years before. This man was not a suspect and never would have been found out had he not decided to confess.
People who see this film are not typical movie-goers. This is not a popcorn-and-candy snacking kind of film. Instead, this film attracts many people who haven't seen the inside of a movie theater in years. I saw people in wheelchairs, with canes and walkers. I spoke to one lady who, like I, still had tears in her eyes after the last credit had disappeared from the screen. She has seen it four times.
Sadly, many people who might have chosen otherwise have been frightened away by critic's warnings of graphic violence. Many people don't want, as CFRA talk radio host Lowell Green said, to "watch two hours of a man being tortured."
But the film is not two hours of torture. Yes, there are scenes that are difficult to watch, and yes, there is a scene where Jesus is flogged mercilessly. But unlike the gratuitous violence in so many movies today, there is a reason for the violence in this film. The pain that He endured--and endured voluntarily--has meaning. Had Jesus Christ died of natural causes at the age of 93, there would have been no redemption. Instead, He chose to die a painful death to atone for the sins of humanity. And that is the message of this film.
It is a simple message, one we have all heard since childhood. Many of us listen to that message without really hearing it. But this movie allows us to truly understand and appreciate the meaning of that message. We watch as a very human Jesus Christ is tempted in the Garden, as Satan tries to shake his faith-it is too big, Satan whispers, one man cannot do it alone. We watch as Jesus prays, "Thy will be done, not mine." And we watch as the consequences of that decision unfold-as the acts and omissions of everyone, the Pharisees, the Romans, the decision-makers and the bystanders, lead to Jesus' overwhelming pain and suffering. He could have stopped everything if He wanted to; He could have come down from that cross at any time. But He did not. He chose to die for our sins.
Why? That is the question we cannot help but ask ourselves. Given the stupidity, the cruelty, the heartlessness that we human beings continually exhibit toward our fellows-qualities that are demonstrated graphically in this film-why in the world are we worth such a supreme sacrifice? I believe the answer can be found in Jesus' own words: "You are the light of the world." In other words, the Divine Light is inside each of us, and it shines forth when we love. When we indulge our negative emotions, when we judge ourselves and others, when we act out of fear or hatred, we condemn ourselves to Hell on Earth.
In an odd sense, the feelings evoked by this film are the same as those evoked on September 11. We grieve with Mary; we rage at the brutality of the Roman torturers, and we understand Pilate's anguish. And we are suddenly able to appreciate the tremendous depth of the love that Jesus Christ had for us. It is a love that is breathtaking in its power to heal. And the next time I feel irritated with my children, or angry with my husband, or infuriated by the sight of dead Americans' bodies being desecrated by the very people they came to liberate, I will remember that love.
We know that prayer works, and the prayers of people working together is especially strong. When Hurricane Isabel was still a category 5 and people were panicked, late night talk radio host George Noory asked his listeners to pray, to focus on reducing Isabel's strength. Several hundred thousand people did so... and Isabel just petered out.
Now, we are facing a war with terrorists who, in their rage, fear and desire to destroy us, are allowing evil to flourish in their hearts. Jesus Christ's message is that the way to fight evil is through love; hatred never ceases with hatred.
Most of us cannot actively serve in this war in a physical sense. So what if we focused, as an online community, on filling these terrorists' hearts with love? "Love thine enemy," Jesus said. What if we gave it try? We could pray, visualize, meditate, use any form that appeals to you, but wouldn't it be a miracle if the strength of that resistance in Iraq melted away, just as Isabel did?
I understand what you feel after seeing the "Passion of Christ". I've seen it 3 times (so far) and from the very beginning it 'attaches' you to the event in a manner that leaves you speechless.
Happy Easter.
redrock
Make no mistake: if He rose at all
it was as His body;
if the cells' dissolution did not reverse, the
molecules reknit, the amino acids rekindle,
the Church will fall.
It was not as the flowers,
each soft Spring recurrent;
it was not as His Spirit in the mouths and fuddled
eyes of the eleven apostles;
it was as His flesh: ours.
The same hinged thumbs and toes,
the same valved heart
that - pierced - died, withered, paused, and then
regathered out of enduring Might
new strength to enclose.
Let us not mock God with metaphor,
analogy, sidestepping, transcendence;
making of the event a parable, a sign painted in the
faded credulity of earlier ages:
let us walk through the door.
The stone is rolled back, not papier-mache,
not a stone in a story,
but the vast rock of materiality that in the slow
grinding of time will eclipse for each of us
the wide light of day.
And if we will have an angel at the tomb,
make it a real angel,
weighty with Max Planck's quanta, vivid with hair,
opaque in the dawn light, robed in real linen
spun on a definite loom.
Let us not seek to make it less monstrous,
for our own convenience, our own sense of
beauty, lest, awakened in one unthinkable hour, we are
embarrassed by the miracle,
and crushed by remonstrance.
Disclaimer: Opinions posted on Free Republic are those of the individual posters and do not necessarily represent the opinion of Free Republic or its management. All materials posted herein are protected by copyright law and the exemption for fair use of copyrighted works.