The Wonderful Lie
This entry originally appeared in The Black Republican.
I've come to a conclusion regarding The Passion: what anti-semitism is there can be a backhanded force for good.
At first, I didn't see any anti-Semitism in it at all. But after reading Krauthammer and now Claudia Rosett, I think Andrew Sullivan may have come closest to defining the film by calling it "pornography" - because like the old Supreme Court ruling-turned-joke, you know the anti-Semitism in the movie when you see it. But just because I don't see it does not mean I can't see where others could.
But that's not just the end of this. Where those who see hate in the film end their commentary (like Rosett, unable to return to the discussion after digressing to Auschwitz), I see yet more to say. Where they see nothing but hate for Jews, I see solidarity with Jews: in the blood-drenched cloth clenched in Mary's fingers, when Satan is passing through the crowds - but mirrored by Mary who is also passing through the same crowds, and the impassive face of Caiphas before the cross turns anguished when the temple is torn asunder.
The same goes for the reviewers. Most of those critical of the film say "anti-Semitism" as if Gibson is laying cement for the ovens at the next Auschwitz. But at a time when so many in the media and politics (and even in the Jewish community) are too ready to accept the idea of Israel giving land for peace, I see an invitation for more death and torment. But just when it becomes most inconvenient for the Palestinians to see Jewish spines stiffen, Mel Gibson produces a movie that allows everyone to discuss the Holocaust anew.
Jewish friends take heart: The Passion causes anti-Semites to go on defense, while giving Christians the opportunity to restate their solidarity with God's Chosen People. How we get the idea from a source that you find offensive will remain a mystery to you - but not to us.