My Thoughts on The Passion of Christ
by James R. Birrell

I have carefully read the commentaries by many a wise thinker about the movie, The Passion of Christ, including those on Meridian. Now I add my own voice.  I have something to say about the film, why I viewed it and why I intend to see it again. In my opinion, this is not a film to be dismissed too quickly or viewed too eagerly; some should not see this movie at all. Those who do will likely never forget it.

The Decision

From the time I first heard of the film, two thoughts struck me.  First, why go?  Second, what deeper things can be learned from it beyond the abundant brutality?  Too often movies seek to play and prey on our emotions, but to what end?  Thus, I asked myself what purpose the emotional strain of The Passion might play in my spiritual development?  The answers to all these questions, and others, were paramount in deciding to go. 

Given the nature of this movie, and the rating, I had to be honest with myself about my reasons for considering it. Curiosity wasn’t enough. That would be tantamount to running toward a serious car wreck to see gore and suffering—and this movie has gore and suffering.  Confirmation wasn’t enough.  I didn’t need to see the movie to confirm the suffering of Christ.  He suffered in ways I simply cannot comprehend (D&C 19: 15).  Seeing the movie did not change that reality, but it did give me a way to better understand and more fully appreciate some of the things he did endure for me. 

I did not go to find doctrinal affirmations.  Mr. Gibson has holes or gaps in his understandings; thus, the movie is most clearly an imperfect portrayal of a most perfect man in the worst of circumstances.  I can discern the core doctrinal differences and fill in the gaps with richer explanations; I went in search of truth not error.  

In fairness to Mr. Gibson, what he believes or understands about Jesus is deeply and profoundly portrayed in the film.  And it is personal to him, for he used his own hand to symbolically raise the mallet that nailed the hand of Christ to the cross.  Symbolism was abundant in this movie, leaving a fruitful field for pondering following the movie.  For that reason, I am confident that you will carry this movie with you for days, perhaps even years to come.  The deeper meanings sink in slowly with the passing of time—at least it has been that way for me.

With respect to the rating and obedience, I agree that we have been asked to follow the principle of protecting ourselves from gratuitous evil, including in the media.  For that reason, we are wise (especially our youth) to follow this counsel as a general rule.  There are, however, as most of you know, times when principles collide.  These are the times that teach us that principles are not always hard, fast rules.  For example, Nephi learned this truth when asked to kill Laban to obtain the brass plates.  I have learned this principle in many ways, also, including assisting people in need on the Sabbath.  There are times when principles compete, and circumstances dictate decisions you otherwise would not make.  These experiences exercise our gift of discernment and engage our use of grace in behalf of higher principles and purposes in rare circumstances.  I have learned that principles are not as rigid as some people’s application of them can be.

Moreover, I did not believe the claims that the movie was racist.  I know too well the mind of the elite that seeks to stir up such things.  As Maslow is alleged to have said, “To him that sees the world as a hammer, all of life is a nail.”  We see the world as we are, not as it is.  Thus, each of us will view this movie looking to confirm something—perhaps its inaccuracies, obscenities, or our curiosities.

So, as I said in the beginning, my question was relevant—why go?  What was I looking for?  In describing why he saw the film, Robert Millet—who I deeply respect—spoke on radio of the deeper personal and professional reasons why he viewed the film.  He helped me see that I wanted to better understand Christ—not merely what happened to him, but how magnificently he responded to it.

I came not to see the awful things they did to him, but to comprehend the great things he did for me.  For I believe, as Elder Maxwell said, “The more we know of Jesus, the more we will love him.  The more we know of Jesus, the more we will trust him.  The more we know of Jesus, the more we will want to be like him and to be with him by becoming the manner of men and women that he wishes us to be” (Ensign, May, 2001).  This is what I sought for from viewing the movie, and describes the effect it seems to be having on me.

To study the life of a perfect man in the worst 12 hours of his life seemed instructive. With that in mind, I prayed to the Father and told him why I was going to see the movie. I asked that his Spirit would steel me against the violence, help me discern the inaccuracies, and shed light on the hidden pearls of great price the movie would surely offer.  He answered my prayer.

The Emotion

Once the decision was made (and confirmed) to go, I began my preparations.  This is not a movie you just go see.  If you choose to go, I encourage you to prepare yourself so that you do not get high centered on the gory visuals and miss the greater visions.  For if you go, God will surely want you to take away some deeper understandings.  He will seek to teach you, especially in the days to come.

My desire to prepare for this “experience” was informed by a disappointing visit to the Sacred Grove in the late 1990’s.  Several of us had traveled to a research conference in New York, and had driven all day to get to that sacred place.  We arrived tired and frankly, a bit silly. My heart was in no state of readiness to enter sacred ground.  As a result, the “feeling” I was hoping to find there escaped me.  I left dejected and vowed to return one day better prepared to reexperience the setting. 

Several years later, I had the opportunity to visit Carthage Jail for the first time.  I spent months preparing my mind and heart to enter this place.  I studied, prayed and fasted so that I would know the truth of what happened there at the deepest levels of my soul. The drive from Nauvoo to Carthage was filled with spiritual hymns, poignant ponderings and silent prayers.  Words cannot describe the overpowering spirit that accompanied my first visit to Carthage, the place where the prophet died. I saw the bullet holes in the door.  I saw the window he fell from.  I became familiar with his death.

It was awful to consider the details of his final hours; but in being there, I was lifted by the deeper meanings and obtained a greater spiritual witness of his life.  I received a testimony that caused me to have to find a private place to weep tears of sorrow and joy; I could not hold them back.  He was a prophet. Understanding his death did not detract from, but witnessed of, the worth of his life and work. The Passion had the same effect upon me, only more profoundly, because it was as if I were there in some ways. 

In preparation for this movie, I also found that listening to the words of Isaiah in the music called “The Messiah” helped prepare my mind and heart, as did prayer and scripture reading.  Imodium helped my nervous stomach.  My physical reaction to the anticipated “experience” affected my nervous system in no small way.  I had a sense of foreboding regarding the sorrows and tortures I was about to see; perhaps my spirit remembered seeing them once before.  I prayed for strength to steel myself against the vivid images of his “passion,” a word that is rooted in Latin for “suffer” or “suffering.”  My empathy cells were on overload long before arriving at the theater and viewing a film appropriately translated to mean The Suffering of Christ. 

I Stand All Amazed

Oh how he suffered!  I left the theater in utter amazement. How profound that hymn really is—I stand all amazed…I marvel…I tremble…I think… 

Those in the theater who focused more on the abuse might rightfully ask, “Why did they keep knocking him down?”  In looking beyond that to deeper things, I kept thinking, “What power or force gave him the strength to get back up?”  For several days, I pondered that question thinking that the answer was most important.  I now realize that as important as the answer is, my growth lies in the fact that I am suddenly and sincerely asking new questions about Christ. 

Sometimes in life, the questions we ask have a much greater impact on our growth than the answers we become satisfied with; deeper questions inspire better searches for answers.  In the process, answers change.  For our growth requires us to build on old understandings line-upon-line.  In the process, we change.  What may seem true today, in hindsight, is but a shadow of what may be known about a thing in time.  Hence, the search for truth will often transform, in part by placing old truths in disequilibrium from gaining new understandings.  Have you never met someone you initially disliked, for example, only to later fall in love with him or her?  Out of the disequilibrium came transformation—growth.

This movie put such demands upon me, and upon my testimony, to seek for deeper answers to both old and new questions—like in rethinking the meaning of “my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”  How incredibly true this statement is, for now I can visualize it!  The yoke he placed (or I took) upon me in becoming a disciple is nothing in contrast to the one placed upon him in becoming our Lord.  My yoke was heavy, as was my burden upon him that day.  Thus, I pray to never complain about being asked to do anything for him in the future—or I will be like the nine lepers who failed to “return” gratitude for all Jesus had done for them—no more complaining about church meetings and such.  I hate meetings!

Another sobering realization from the movie lies in the fact that Jesus would have gladly met them at Golgotha and placed himself willingly upon the cross; he knew his course.  The gratuitous and excessive beatings to appease his accusers were arguably so unnecessary.  Yet, he suffered them willingly, to increase his own understanding and empathy, and to model submission.  Now all these things I have known before, but to be a witness of them, in a manner of speaking, brings them richer meanings.

Nowhere was this lesson of submission more powerful in the film, but less dramatic, than in the moment when Jesus arrived at Golgotha.  Ordered by his captors to get up, he willingly submitted to the cross by crawling upon it of his own strength and will.  That was the most humbling and powerful moment in the movie for me, save one other that I describe in the next paragraph.  After all he had been through, Jesus crawled freely to his own cross—willingly to his own death. He was not placed or forced upon the cross by his executioners. The image of that submissive scene will forever remain with me.

And I will never forget the image and sound of him crying out in pain to his Father as the spike was being driven through his feet.  I know something of pain, having survived a truck rollover that left me broken and paralyzed for a time at age 20.  I know something of what it is to scream in pain before earthly and eternal parents. To hear Jesus break his silence and cry out in pain to his Father at that moment was harder for me to watch than all the beatings he endured; I truly connected with him in that moment at a new level. 

He became even more real and precious to me; he really does understand my pains.  In that tender moment of the movie, I heard a child in pain, a son, calling out for his father who could only watch, I suspect, in sorrow yet gratitude for his son.  My mother remembers my screams in the hospital following my accident when the hospital staff would roll me to my side and the broken bones would grind against one another and tear tissues.  The nurses gave me a piece of wood to bite down on, to avoid biting off my tongue in agony.  In her helplessness, my mother could barely endure my screams.  How did perfectly loving Heavenly Father endure the sorrowful expressions of his only begotten son?  He was, after all, the boy’s daddy, to put it in common terms. And how he loved the boy. 

Sitting next to me in the theater was my own son, just months away from leaving on a mission.  I will be giving him up to God for two years following a lifetime of involvement and preparation for his great experience; and he is my only son.  Shall I complain about having to give him up to God?  No!  For this purpose I raised him up, to give him to God, ready to serve, and ready to accept the yoke of discipleship.  I took him to the movie so that he would better understand these things.  And we have had many meaningful talks since.

The Conclusion

Finally, in a never-to-be-forgotten scene at the conclusion of the movie, Satan is seen alone and kneeling; reality and rage were sinking in.  The victory of Christ ensured Lucifer’s eternal loss and ruined any hopes of subjecting all men and women to his despotic rule as their god—little “g” for he would have made such a small god.  Whatever his stature in premortality, he was no Jesus.  Clearly, his arrogance exceeded his stature, goodness, and vision; he had nothing of true or lasting worth to offer us then or now. 

In this scene, reminiscent of the conversation between Moses and Lucifer (Moses 1: 19-24), Satan let out a scream that surely exemplified the bitterness of hell and left the viewer unnerved.  In contrast to the awful scream was the awesome assurance of an empty tomb.  For an empty tomb means a living Christ—the victory was sure. Let earth and hell rage against Christ—and us, the battle is won. 

And in the final scene the battle scars are portrayed so well.  Let me explain. Critics say the movie has many holes in it; they are right.  But there was one hole that summed it all up in the final scene.  That was, of course, the hole that scarred his hand—the last thing we saw as Jesus exited the tomb. 

I shall one day touch that hole, along with the other scars, like the Nephites of old.  And when I do, thanks in small part to the movie, I will better understand the awful reality of how those scars got there and the unspeakable grace that explains why they got there.  And if I have any strength left in me after falling at, weeping upon, and tenderly kissing his feet, I intend to find the Father who sent him and do likewise.