"I don't normally bother to see a film when I've read the Book. Unlike Justin Timberlake, I prefer to eschew implausible deniability when it comes to the fragility of surprise. But since The Passion of the Christ (not, mind you, just any Christ you might happen to cross crosses with, but the Christ), grew from the prodigiously fertilized soil of Roman Catholicism, a church that has never been fettered by its source materials when it comes to wildly dramatic theological flourishes, I went anyway.
Mel Gibson shrewdly marketed this film in a manner made popular by many wealthy, privileged neocon Christians in America -- by claiming to be the victim of a persecution so insidious that it leaves no visible traces. Aside from Mr. Gibson's attempts at becoming the Tawana Brawley of the Director's Guild, all of the pre-release press has arisen from Jews taking prickly umbrage in being saddled with the responsibility for Jesus' death. Well, no one enjoys having his face rubbed in homicidal peccadilloes. Just ask Patsy Ramsey. Or Laura Bush, for that matter. But complaining that the New Testament is anti-Semitic is tantamount to complaining that The Sound of Music is disconcertingly Austrian. Rather than bemoan the unflattering demeanor of extras, rabbis should celebrate that the film doesn't open with the Apostle Paul inciting an angry crowd with a spirited musical rendition of lyrics based on his colorful epistle to the Thessalonians:"
http://www.bettybowers.com/melgibsonpassion.htmlAnd still more sarcasm:
http://www.landoverbaptist.org/
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