The Passion of the Christ-Makers Recreating Jesus




T

he
current stirring of religiosity is not about “the passion of
the Christ,” but about the passion of the Christ-makers—those
who have recreated Jesus in the image of their own need for certainty,
security, rightness, power over others, and domination. It is especially
about correct theological belief and not about just, ethical behavior;
about having the right belief, not doing the right thing; about
a personal, other-worldly destination, not about an interpersonal
journey with others—unless they are like- minded; about believing
in Jesus, not doing what he believed in. 


To
the Christ-makers, Jesus died for the sins of the world, and whoever
believes in his sacrificial act of atonement, as the only Son of
God, will not perish but inherit eternal life. Thus, may an otherwise
hell-bent humanity escape the eternal damnation of an otherwise
loving God. 


 The
centrality to Christianity of belief, and of such a belief in Jesus,
is the enthusiastically received message of Mel Gibson’s

The
Passion of the Christ

. From the film’s biblical introduction—(“He
was wounded for our transgressions,” Isaiah 53:5a) through
the almost movie-long violent scourging (that would have killed
Jesus many times over), to the piercing of his side with a spear
after he was already dead—comes the resounding message of vicarious
suffering for everyone’s inherently sinful human condition
and that accepting him as one’s personal savior is the key
to everlasting life.



What
Jesus actually believed in—and died for—is effectively,
if not intentionally, obscured by the passion of the Christ-makers.
He did not die for a theological abstraction, i.e., for “the
sins of the world,” but because of the sins being committed
against his Jewish world. He died to liberate the Jewish people
from the Roman Empire, which had violated their national sovereignty,
occupied their country, and crucified thousands of Jewish “insurgents”
and bystanders—for whom belief in a Messiah was grounded in
the political realities of Jewish nationalism, freedom, justice,
and peace. 


The
anti-Semitism of

The Passion of


t


he Christ

is seen in its distortion of historical reality; in its portrayal
of brutal Roman administrator Pontius Pilate as agonizingly sympathetic
to a would-be liberator of Jews from Roman domination; in Pilate
washing his hands of responsibility for Jesus’s death, even
though he had the power of life and death over Jesus (John 19:10). 


The
ahistorical violence the film does to Jewish reality is also seen
in a “whole battalion”-backed, yet uneasy, Pilate giving
in to the “will” of subjugated, powerless priests, elders
of the people, and other Jews who repeatedly cried out, “Crucify
him” (Mark 15:12-16). Portraying the Roman empire in such a
favorable light, in New Testament books written 50 to 100 years
after the fact, may have advanced the evangelizing of Romans by
the early followers of Jesus; but it cast a horrible curse on the
Jewish people by putting into the mouths of their oppressed descendents,
“His (Jesus’s) blood be on us and on our children”
(Matthew 27:25). 


The
argument that

The Passion of


t


he Christ

is
true to the gospels’ accounts of Jesus’s crucifixion does
not make it any less anti-Semitic. The New Testament has been used
not only to justify anti-Semitism, but also the enslavement of black
people (Ephesians 6:5ff), patriarchy’s subjugation of women
(Ephesians 5:22ff), physical and spiritual violence against gay
and lesbian persons (Romans 1:26, 27), and world domination in Jesus’s
name. Enter President Bush. 


When
asked during the 2000 presidential campaign, “What political
philosopher or thinker do you most identify with and why?”
George W. Bush replied, “Christ, because he changed my heart.”
When asked later how Jesus changed his heart, Bush responded, “When
you accept Christ as a savior, it changes your heart, it changes
your life” (“60 Minutes II,” April 14, 2004). 


President
Bush’s belief-centered faith


in Christ apparently provides
him with the spiritual blinders needed to remain oblivious to the
behavior of the U.S. and his own administration’s


behavior. 


To
violate another country’s national sovereignty and impose “freedom”
on its people and call it an historic spreading of “democracy”
in the Middle East, is to turn reality inside out. Here behavior
defies belief. Never mind reality—the overwhelming evidence
against “mission accomplished”; the warning of Egyptian
President Hosni Mubarak, “a major Arab ally,” who “said
yesterday that hatred of Americans in the Arab world is stronger
than ever because of the war in Iraq” (

Boston Globe

,
April 21, 2004). That hatred intensified with revelations of the
torture, desecration, and murder of Iraqi prisoners by U.S. military
personnel, though President Bush has tried to dissociate his Administration
from the culture of abuse its pre-meditated war policy and his “bring
‘em on” mentality have fostered. But the far greater abuse
is the U.S. invading and occupying Iraq in the first place. 


President
Bush is “staying the course”: not guided by reality, but
by his “strong belief that freedom is not this country’s
gift to the world but the Almighty’s gift to every man and
woman in the world” (news conference, April 13, 2004). In the
violent wake of “staying the course” have come pre-emptive
war-supporting, evangelizing carpetbaggers, carrying Bibles and
water, calling Islam an “evil” religion, (

St. Petersburg
Times

, April 20, 2003), and intent on converting Muslims to
Christ. 


The
interpretation of history by the passion of the Christ-makers does
violence to the reality of oppressed people—Jewish and Iraqi—and
obscures what Jesus was really about. He was not about dying for
the sins of the world so that believers could inherit eternal life,
but about setting at liberty the Jews, who were oppressed in his
world (Luke 4:18). In fact, he emphasized an often overlooked way
to eternal life: by behavior, not by belief. When a lawyer tested
him by asking, “Teacher, what should I do to inherit eternal
life?” Jesus confirmed that the two greatest commandments were
the way: love of God and one’s neighbor as oneself (Luke 10:25-28).
When tested further to define who one’s neighbor was, Jesus
said any person stripped of life and in need of a Good Samaritan
(Luke 10:29-37). 


Jesus
used the very institution of religion, the sabbath, to emphasize
the sacred worth of every human being: “The sabbath was made
for man, not man for the sabbath” (Mark 2:27). The democratic
spirit of these words should be the foundation of Christian organizations
and might also help guide the mission statements of political, economic,
and social institutions as well. 


In
teaching love of one’s neighbor as oneself and in intervening
on behalf of his oppressed Jewish neighbors, Jesus set an example
for the behavior of those who would follow his pathway to eternal
life. It is here that the dynamic of belief may come into play. 


It
is much easier to worship what Jesus did than to do what he worshipped.
It is safer to believe that Jesus died for the sins of the world
than to join in seeking to rid the world of political, corporate,
and military sins that deny neighbors’ their birthright of
freedom and fulfillment. 


Institutionalized
religion often immortalizes its saints in order to immobilize them.
A way to neutralize the threat posed by the example of prophets
and patriots is to turn their liberation movement into a monument
and worship it. Vicarious identification with their struggles may
be substituted for involvement in similar ethical struggles today.
The stature is found in the statue. The right is remembered in the
rite. The power is in the prayer. The radical footstep is encased
in a freedom trail. The ethic is observed as a memory and avoided
as a model. 


Belief
in Christ as one’s personal savior can also invite a narcissism
that encourages self-centeredness rather than identification with
one’s neighbors. Such narcissism may even reinforce obliviousness
to the neglect or unjust treatment of neighbors by the government,
for example, in our name. The aim of belief is certainly to affirm,
comfort, and empower—but not at the expense of one’s neighbor. 


Religion
is about behavior not belief—just as the truth is reflected
in what one does. Religion is about setting people free, not imposing
sectarian or political beliefs on them. It’s about empowering
people, not gaining power over them. It’s about people’s
inalienable right to believe as they choose and be who they are.
It’s about honoring people in calling them by their own name,
in experiencing their reality not interpreting it. It’s about
loving one’s neighbor as oneself—here and on any Jericho
road.



 





Rev. William
E. Alberts is hospital chaplain at Boston Medical Center, Newton,
MA. He is both a Unitarian Universalist and a United Methodist minister.
He has written essays and articles on racism, war, politics, and religion.