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I am extremely lapsed, so I hope other people who have kept their membership current will pitch in and correct me where I am wrong, but I was thinking about how Gibson's *The Passion* is, from what I can tell, a real departure from the way the passion play has traditionally been used in Catholic ritual, and here's what I came up with...
First of all, I haven't seen Mel Gibson's The Passion and I'm not going to, for 2 reasons: 1) I don't want to give him money and 2) from the descriptions it sounds as if there's a 90% chance I'd have to walk out after the first 20 minutes. I have a low tolerance for graphic violence. But it had occurred to me that it might help those of you who did not suffer through a Catholic upbringing to have some sense of the tradition The Passion comes out of.
The 'passion play' is something that has been part of Christian ritual tradition since the beginning, really. Catholic mass is always organized around a re-enactment of Christ's sacrifice through the Eucharist. But during Easter week, there are two masses during which involve the celebrants and the congregation in what is essentially a dramatic reading of part of one of the Gospel narratives. Holy Thursday re-enacts the Last Supper, which became the model for the Eucharist. On Good Friday you get the passion, which is the arrest, the 'trial,' and the crucifixion. The term "passion," incidentally, is used here in its more Latin-root sense of "suffering," as opposed to, you know, mad passionate romance, but the overtones are rich and I'm sure Mel is playing on all of them.
Anyway, I've been lapsed for a long time and the details are sketchy, but one thing I do remember very clearly is that the celebrants 'play' the individual roles (you always have a priest as Jesus, and someone as the narrator, and someone else does all the other speaking parts such as Peter, Judas, etc.) but the congregation plays the crowd. Which means that at some point, you all have to respond to the question, "Should we release this Jesus to you or crucify him?" by yelling, "Crucify him! Crucify him!" In one version, and it's embarrassing that I can't remember which Gospel this is, Pilate says, "Well, you know, his blood will be on your hands," and the congregation has to reply, "On us and our children!"
That always bothered me. I remember explaining to my grandmother, who was an Episcopalian, that I really didn't like having to say "crucify him," and she said, "Oh, it doesn't really make sense to get upset over something that happened that long ago." When you think about it, that answer makes absolutely no sense--isn't the whole point that even though this was all going on practically 2000 years ago it's still fresh as if it was yesterday?--but I suppose that being older she was just less impressionable.
Looking back on it, it seems to me that this represents a crucial difference between the way the Catholic Church uses the passion story in its own rituals and the way Mel is trying to use it in this movie. For better or worse, what the Good Friday passion play does is make the 'audience' complicit in Jesus's death. The congregation has to take some of the responsibility and share the guilt for the sacrifice taking place. Now on the one hand this is part of that whole celebrated Catholic-guilt thing, which has caused the world an awful lot of sorrow and grief. On the other hand, it does make a certain amount of sense: after all, the Catholic take on this is that Jesus is sacrificing himself for all the people in that church, and so in that sense, they are responsible for what's happening to him.
Gibson's movie, from all I hear, forces the audience to share the suffering--in that way it's more like doing the stations of the cross than going to mass--by drawing it out in all its gruesome technicolor glory, but then transfers the guilt to someone else. Even though opinion is still split over whether the film is deliberately and maliciously anti-Semitic, all the reviews seem to agree that Gibson has rehabilitated Pilate by making the Pharisees, as one reviewer put it, "the black hats." And of course because it's a film and not theater, the audience cannot be incorporated into the crowd scenes in the same way, and therefore do not have the same kind of complicity. They are in the position that all film viewers occupy: that of the helpless voyeur. While the act of watching something like this does confer a certain kind of responsibility on the viewer, it can never involve him or her as directly as a live production would. So the responsibility for the sacrifice is safely shifted onto the shoulders of the on-screen crowd, who conveniently belong to an ethnic and religious group that is clearly not part of the film's intended audience, and therefore easy for those so inclined to Other and demonize.
As scripted as that Good Friday mass is, you as the congregant do have to make the decision to participate in it, and to take on your small part of the responsibility for the suffering about to be enacted. It seems to me that Gibson's film is not going to force, or even ask, anyone watching it to do that. Which is just another reason why the whole thing is pretty scary. Because if it allows the audiences to put all the blame for this horrifying torture on somebody else, then basically all it becomes is an extended-play version of the Two Minute Hate.
Ah well,
The Plaid Adder
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