the passion - to see or not to see

Passover 2006 equates to my memories of the New Year’s Eve of 1999―it will always remain in a class of its own. Watching Mr. Gibson’s The Passion after experiencing my first Jewish Seder lead by a family of Messianic believers dramatically affected my perspective on the events portrayed in this film.

I have never eaten horseradish in my life before, not to mention straight up on a tiny piece of Matzos. I had tears running down my face before tasting the bitter herbs just at the thought of how God instituted this unique menu in the time of Moses with the purpose of revealing Himself to us. Like a mom giving her little girl her first doll to “play” with―on the surface it seems insignificant, but on a deeper level she intentionally prepares her daughter for an important purpose later in life. The mother steps out in faith from her perspective, based on several assumptions that she will have no control over; will she grow up to see the age of puberty and adulthood, will she find a husband who chooses her to become his bride, will God grant them the gift of children?

As I switched on the DVD I braced my heart to look upon the most significant event in humankind, still lost upon most of God’s chosen people living in the Holy City today.

Hearing Christ pray ancient Psalms written by His human predecessor, David, in vulnerable cries to His Almighty Father under the full moon, my thoughts raced back two thousand years from that point in time to the moment when God called Abram from his moon-worshipping culture to become the first Jew. How sad Jesus must have felt there in the garden to see the suffering ahead for the Jews who would not understand His sacrifice and consequent salvation. Why does He allow some to see and some not, I wondered. When He wakes his disciples for the second time, they don’t get it either. They respond in human logic at His arrest and think that swords will solve this misunderstanding and preserve Jesus for his destiny to free them from Rome’s oppression.

I found two motives repeating in my mind throughout watching this film; Christ’s human submission to human abuse despite His divine dominion over all creation and the irony that the least likely human souls who began to understand His true identity were gentiles who knew nothing about the Passover Lamb but still Jesus treats the misguided Jews involved with loving forgiveness.

Some of the moments that I recall the best are these:
● When Judas and the mob shows up and asks Jesus to identify Himself, he answers before Judas points Him out, almost as if He wants to protect His betrayer from committing that sin.
● When Peter cuts off the ear of the Sanhedrin’s soldier, I see Jesus rebuking His own disciple for wanting to interfere with God’s plan for His life and responds with gentle love to the frightened man who listened to the wrong religious leadership.
● The inquisition before the Sanhedrin tore my heart apart as I thought of how easily we judge the disbelief of Judaism today. When the most educated scholars of the Law and the Prophets asked Jesus if he was the Son of God and He responds with the same Name that Moses spoke to the Pharaoh―I AM―the Sanhedrin tore their robes as a sign of obedience to their understanding of what Yahweh expected from them when somebody blasphemed His precious Name.

At that moment I was sobbing over every Jewish man and woman on this planet who did not recognize Yeshua as the Meshiach. I still don’t understand why God showed me-a selfish nobody-the grace of seeing who He is. I still don’t know what I can say or do or pray that might reveal the God of Israel to Israel today. “Lord, have mercy on Your people! Use me!”

Watching the Roman soldiers rip Christ’s human body apart I felt the Spirit touching my own in a gentle reminder that I do exactly the same through the words I speak and write. When this torture ends periodically, these men who were given life through the Word of His drags Jesus' limp body across the white marble paving, smearing His blood like a brush stroke before the dirty sandals of the feet He came down from heaven to wash.

I remembered the drops of wine against the white of my plate next to the striped and pierced matzos. With my pinky finger, I lifted out dark red drops resembling the plagues of Egypt from my cup during the Seder. Every harmful word I have spoken or written in my life and every one I will after this moment lay splattered on the stone of that courtyard two thousand years ago.