By Jo Anne DP Villarosa
Contributing Writer

There was a seemingly sacred silence when the film ended. Having seen it last Friday (and not Saturday), I shared the experience of the film with several people from the Lewiston community and a few from Bates. Perhaps if it were a bunch of us college students, we would have started debating amongst ourselves right after the lights turned on. But since there was no one to carry out scholarly or intellectual pretense (or at least there was no reason to do so), there was silence at the end of the film. Nobody talked. No one really smiled. Not even a footstep could be heard. I doubt that it was just my imagination and the impact of the film on me. It was as if all of us, or at least most of us, just experienced something unspeakable. To me, it was as if I just witnessed something “unwriteable.” But here I am, struggling to supply the words that I know are not enough.

I could talk to you about the cinematography, the shots, the actors, the setting. Or if, like me, you have been following film critics and their daily articles on the film, perhaps you are waiting for me to counter their arguments. I would, but the film offers its defense without being defensive or aggressive. No words are necessary to refute the accusations of anti-Semitism, or even blasphemy. The “graphic violence” escapes the eye amidst everything else that is happening, that the audience is seeing. And even if it doesn’t, we all need some discomfort every now and then to regain our senses anyway.

I grew up watching Jesus films. Enrolled in a Catholic school in The Philippines from primary to secondary levels, I had a religion class every year. Back in those days, I saw films about Jesus because I had to, and because I was a Christian. During Holy Week, we would “relive” the passion of Jesus Christ by doing “The Way of the Cross.” I knew Jesus suffered for me and for mankind, and I knew how to be grateful for it.

I left home when I was 17 to study in another country, in a school where the world comes to learn about “international understanding.” Although most people continued practicing their own religions, I somehow lost track of mine. Religion was rarely discussed. There was great openness and acceptance and even celebration for each other’s religion, but details were not discussed.

After two years in that school, I came to the US to study at Bates. Always away from my family, which my very religious and wonderful mother leads, I had more space for my own spiritual thinking and feeling. I’ve always believed in a God, for I believe in goodness and love. As for the other teachings of the Christian faith, I neither rejected nor accepted them. I just let them be.

In watching the film, I consciously took with me everything I’ve read about it and various insights on the issues brought up by such criticisms. While I was watching it, though, the issues that living in this society has given me faded not into the background, but into nothingness. Why would one focus on such details to miss the whole message of the film?

The father in Tim Burton’s Big Fish, while having dinner with his family, said, “You can’t talk about religion; you never know who you’re gonna offend.” I have long been struggling – not exactly with my faith – but with the religion the society I grew up in declared to be mine. I am aware of all the conflicts that humanity’s weakness – using religion as a cause – has brought about. I do not claim knowledge of other religions – I have enough trouble grappling with mine. And I know a lot of people do not really believe in any God.

Mel Gibson’s The Passion of The Christ is a classic to me because I still know the stations of the cross by heart, having recited them every year of my childhood and early teenage years with my family. It’s a classic to me because I have seen a dozen other films with the exact same “plot” taken from the Bible. It is a classic to me because I was born into a Christian family.

But it is a classic to all of us because it speaks of goodness and of love. It tells us of kindness and compassion. Moreover, it shows us the antithesis of these: lust for wealth and power and the whole range of things humankind does to gain both. The film is a classic because it mirrors our society as we are living in it now. Call it scripture, call it “just another movie,” or call it a legend – the message still resounds. It is difficult to do good in this world because of our own weakness. If you have ever found yourself disagreeing with something you actually believe because others dismiss it or keeping silent when you know you have something to say that everyone else seems to be OK with, then you should have an idea of what I’m saying. The film, the story of The Passion of The Christ, is a classic because it is true. The meaning of truth, as Pontius Pilate brings to our attention in the film, is difficult, if not impossible, to discern. As for me, facts are important to an extent, but they don’t necessarily convey the truth. The fact that the movie is not based on the Holy Bible point by point does not disqualify its truthfulness for me. I believe there is so much more beyond what has been recorded. Although words read in the Bible do not translate directly to images seen in the film, the essence is there. The world, then and now, needs moral and spiritual direction, salvation, and redemption.

Go watch the movie. I am a person who notices and appreciates the little things, the details. But in this case, the bigger picture emerges too prominently not to take hold of me. I believe in goodness, in love, in hope; therefore, I believe in the passion of the Christ. And I mean this within and way beyond my own religion.





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