Because Christ Pantocrator is one of my favorite icon subjects ever.
Showing posts with label Jesus. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jesus. Show all posts
Thursday, February 9, 2012
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Wonderfully Made
One very comforting thought I've had recently is that God loves the idea of each person. Loves it so much He had to create us.
There's a very special bond between the creator and the created, because when you make a work of art, you pour yourself into it. And there's a certain mark- a trademark, if you will- on your designs, because they take on a bit of your personality. Your creations smack of you-ishness. Take, for example, the different authoresses of this blog. I don't even have to look at the bottom of the post to know who penned the entry. Each of us have our own distinct voice, vocabulary and writing style. It's quite beautiful if you stop to think about it.
So stop.
Think about it.
Now continue reading.
Now, sometimes we'll create a piece of art that doesn't come out quite as we hoped. It's imperfect. Flawed. We wish it would be better-more like the ideal we envisioned in our heads. God, however, only creates perfect works of art. God's idea of, say, Catherine, is perfect. It's a masterpiece-a work of art that shows off, as no other work of His can, some particular aspect of Himself. He formed the idea of her-of Catherine, with her own Catherine-ish qualities and quirks, her idiosyncracies and beauties. He thought of them all; He laughed with joy; and He fell in love. He fell in love so much that He had to create her. That's truly mind-boggling. God loves us so much that He creates us. I don't even understand how that works.
God wants our love. And, (as I feel like we've discussed before on this blog, and as many greater minds have been discussing since time began,) love is a choice. We have to make the choice to love God, or else our "love" is nothing worth. He can't program it into out hearts that we love Him. Love cannot be forced or coerced, it is a gift.
"If a man were to give all the riches of his house for love, It would be utterly despised." Song of Songs 8:7
God's love has breathed us into existence. Our love simply gives ourselves back to Him, since we really belong to Him anyways. The Creator who loves us so infinitely and indesciribably simply wants our love in return. But here's the catch: we've made the horrendous, disastrous, catastrophic, mistake of choosing not to love Him. How absolutely tragic. We only exist because of love, yet we constantly turn our back on Love himself. Imagine how desperate He would be to win our love, to woo us back to Himself.
I opened to my beloved;
but my beloved left; and had gone away.
My heart went out when he spoke.
I looked for him, but I didn’t find him.
I called him, but he didn’t answer.
The watchmen who go about the city found me.
They beat me.
They bruised me.
The keepers of the walls took my cloak away from me.
I adjure you, daughters of Jerusalem,
If you find my beloved,
that you tell him that I am faint with love.
And the Word became flesh, and lived and died for us. Because He loved the idea of each person so infinitely that He would stop at nothing to save us. He came up with of the idea of His mother Mary, of Pontius Pilate, of each Roman soldier who scourged Him, of Judas, of everyone of us sinners-of you and me. He thought of us. Every single person who put Christ to death was a precious being that He had thought of, and loved so much that He wanted to create them. We were His idea, and He loved us so much He gave up His life for us.
I found him whom my soul loves.
I held him, and would not let him go,
The moral of the story: God loves you. We hear it so often, but we don't listen to these words. God loves you. He likes you-He wanted to make you! He's not like: "Well, since I'm forced to make someone, I might as well throw together a Becca." He fell in love with each of us so much that He wanted nothing more than to bring us to life, so that we might share in His life. Everything God makes is infinitely and incandescently beautiful, including us. We are a masterpieces, made by the Master Artist.
Behold, you are beautiful, my love.
Behold, you are beautiful.
God loves you.
Thursday, January 21, 2010
A Dim Dream...
Theology, while saying that a special illumination has been vouchsafed to Christians and (earlier) to Jews, also says that there is some divine illumination vouchsafed to all men. The Divine light, we are told, "lighteneth every man." We should, therefore, expect to find in the imagination of great Pagan teachers and myth makers some glimpse of that theme which we believe to be the very plot of the whole cosmic story-the theme of incarnation, death, and rebirth. And the differences between the Pagan Christs (Balder, Osiris, etc.) and the Christ Himself is much what we should expect to find.
The Pagan stories are all about someone dying and rising, either every year or else nobody knows where and nobody knows when. The Christian story is about a historical personage, whose execution can be dated pretty accurately, under a named Roman magistrate, and with whom the society He founded is in a continuous relation down to the present day. It is not the difference between falsehood and truth. It is the difference between a real event on the one hand and dim dreams or premonitions of that same event on the other. It is like watching something come gradually into focus; first it hangs in the clouds of myth and ritual, vast and vague, then it condenses, grows hard and in a sense small, as a historical event in first century Palestine. ---- C.S. Lewis, from "Is Theology Poetry", and essay from The Weight of Glory.
P.S.
Coming Soon from Desi and Portia:
Pan's Labyrinth and
Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day reviews!
The Pagan stories are all about someone dying and rising, either every year or else nobody knows where and nobody knows when. The Christian story is about a historical personage, whose execution can be dated pretty accurately, under a named Roman magistrate, and with whom the society He founded is in a continuous relation down to the present day. It is not the difference between falsehood and truth. It is the difference between a real event on the one hand and dim dreams or premonitions of that same event on the other. It is like watching something come gradually into focus; first it hangs in the clouds of myth and ritual, vast and vague, then it condenses, grows hard and in a sense small, as a historical event in first century Palestine. ---- C.S. Lewis, from "Is Theology Poetry", and essay from The Weight of Glory.
P.S.
Coming Soon from Desi and Portia:
Pan's Labyrinth and
Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day reviews!
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
Movie Review
I found this review of the Passion of the Christ. It's almost 6 years old, but I aboslutely loved it. I just thought I'd post it-it's got some really great reflections on the film.
The Passion of the Christ
BY ROGER EBERT / February 24, 2004
If ever there was a film with the correct title, that film is Mel Gibson's "The Passion of the Christ." Although the word passion has become mixed up with romance, its Latin origins refer to suffering and pain; later Christian theology broadened that to include Christ's love for mankind, which made him willing to suffer and die for us.
The movie is 126 minutes long, and I would guess that at least 100 of those minutes, maybe more, are concerned specifically and graphically with the details of the torture and death of Jesus. This is the most violent film I have ever seen.
I prefer to evaluate a film on the basis of what it intends to do, not on what I think it should have done. It is clear that Mel Gibson wanted to make graphic and inescapable the price that Jesus paid (as Christians believe) when he died for our sins. Anyone raised as a Catholic will be familiar with the stops along the way; the screenplay is inspired not so much by the Gospels as by the 14 Stations of the Cross. As an altar boy, serving during the Stations on Friday nights in Lent, I was encouraged to meditate on Christ's suffering, and I remember the chants as the priest led the way from one station to another:
At the Cross, her station keeping ...
Stood the mournful Mother weeping ...
Close to Jesus to the last.
For we altar boys, this was not necessarily a deep spiritual experience. Christ suffered, Christ died, Christ rose again, we were redeemed, and let's hope we can get home in time to watch the Illinois basketball game on TV. What Gibson has provided for me, for the first time in my life, is a visceral idea of what the Passion consisted of. That his film is superficial in terms of the surrounding message -- that we get only a few passing references to the teachings of Jesus -- is, I suppose, not the point. This is not a sermon or a homily, but a visualization of the central event in the Christian religion. Take it or leave it.
David Ansen, a critic I respect, finds in Newsweek that Gibson has gone too far. "The relentless gore is self-defeating," he writes. "Instead of being moved by Christ's suffering or awed by his sacrifice, I felt abused by a filmmaker intent on punishing an audience, for who knows what sins."
This is a completely valid response to the film, and I quote Ansen because I suspect he speaks for many audience members, who will enter the theater in a devout or spiritual mood and emerge deeply disturbed. You must be prepared for whippings, flayings, beatings, the crunch of bones, the agony of screams, the cruelty of the sadistic centurions, the rivulets of blood that crisscross every inch of Jesus' body. Some will leave before the end.
This is not a Passion like any other ever filmed. Perhaps that is the best reason for it. I grew up on those pious Hollywood biblical epics of the 1950s, which looked like holy cards brought to life. I remember my grin when Time magazine noted that Jeffrey Hunter, starring as Christ in "King of Kings" (1961), had shaved his armpits. (Not Hunter's fault; the film's Crucifixion scene had to be re-shot because preview audiences objected to Jesus' hairy chest.)
If it does nothing else, Gibson's film will break the tradition of turning Jesus and his disciples into neat, clean, well-barbered middle-class businessmen. They were poor men in a poor land. I debated Martin Scorsese's "The Last Temptation of Christ" with commentator Michael Medved before an audience from a Christian college, and was told by an audience member that the characters were filthy and needed haircuts.
The Middle East in biblical times was a Jewish community occupied against its will by the Roman Empire, and the message of Jesus was equally threatening to both sides: to the Romans, because he was a revolutionary, and to the establishment of Jewish priests, because he preached a new covenant and threatened the status quo.
In the movie's scenes showing Jesus being condemned to death, the two main players are Pontius Pilate, the Roman governor, and Caiaphas, the Jewish high priest. Both men want to keep the lid on, and while neither is especially eager to see Jesus crucified, they live in a harsh time when such a man is dangerous.
Pilate is seen going through his well-known doubts before finally washing his hands of the matter and turning Jesus over to the priests, but Caiaphas, who also had doubts, is not seen as sympathetically. The critic Steven D. Greydanus, in a useful analysis of the film, writes: "The film omits the canonical line from John's gospel in which Caiaphas argues that it is better for one man to die for the people [so] that the nation be saved.
"Had Gibson retained this line, perhaps giving Caiaphas a measure of the inner conflict he gave to Pilate, it could have underscored the similarities between Caiaphas and Pilate and helped defuse the issue of anti-Semitism."
This scene and others might justifiably be cited by anyone concerned that the movie contains anti-Semitism. My own feeling is that Gibson's film is not anti-Semitic, but reflects a range of behavior on the part of its Jewish characters, on balance favorably. The Jews who seem to desire Jesus' death are in the priesthood, and have political as well as theological reasons for acting; like today's Catholic bishops who were slow to condemn abusive priests, Protestant TV preachers who confuse religion with politics, or Muslim clerics who are silent on terrorism, they have an investment in their positions and authority. The other Jews seen in the film are viewed positively; Simon helps Jesus to carry the cross, Veronica brings a cloth to wipe his face, Jews in the crowd cry out against his torture.
A reasonable person, I believe, will reflect that in this story set in a Jewish land, there are many characters with many motives, some good, some not, each one representing himself, none representing his religion. The story involves a Jew who tried no less than to replace the established religion and set himself up as the Messiah. He was understandably greeted with a jaundiced eye by the Jewish establishment while at the same time finding his support, his disciples and the founders of his church entirely among his fellow Jews. The libel that the Jews "killed Christ" involves a willful misreading of testament and teaching: Jesus was made man and came to Earth in order to suffer and die in reparation for our sins. No race, no man, no priest, no governor, no executioner killed Jesus; he died by God's will to fulfill his purpose, and with our sins we all killed him. That some Christian churches have historically been guilty of the sin of anti-Semitism is undeniable, but in committing it they violated their own beliefs.
This discussion will seem beside the point for readers who want to know about the movie, not the theology. But "The Passion of the Christ," more than any other film I can recall, depends upon theological considerations. Gibson has not made a movie that anyone would call "commercial," and if it grosses millions, that will not be because anyone was entertained. It is a personal message movie of the most radical kind, attempting to re-create events of personal urgency to Gibson. The filmmaker has put his artistry and fortune at the service of his conviction and belief, and that doesn't happen often.
Is the film "good" or "great?" I imagine each person's reaction (visceral, theological, artistic) will differ. I was moved by the depth of feeling, by the skill of the actors and technicians, by their desire to see this project through no matter what. To discuss individual performances, such as James Caviezel's heroic depiction of the ordeal, is almost beside the point. This isn't a movie about performances, although it has powerful ones, or about technique, although it is awesome, or about cinematography (although Caleb Deschanel paints with an artist's eye), or music (although John Debney supports the content without distracting from it).
It is a film about an idea. An idea that it is necessary to fully comprehend the Passion if Christianity is to make any sense. Gibson has communicated his idea with a singleminded urgency. Many will disagree. Some will agree, but be horrified by the graphic treatment. I myself am no longer religious in the sense that a long-ago altar boy thought he should be, but I can respond to the power of belief whether I agree or not, and when I find it in a film, I must respect it.
Note: I said the film is the most violent I have ever seen. It will probably be the most violent you have ever seen. This is not a criticism but an observation; the film is unsuitable for younger viewers, but works powerfully for those who can endure it. The MPAA's R rating is definitive proof that the organization either will never give the NC-17 rating for violence alone, or was intimidated by the subject matter. If it had been anyone other than Jesus up on that cross, I have a feeling that NC-17 would have been automatic.
The Passion of the Christ
BY ROGER EBERT / February 24, 2004
If ever there was a film with the correct title, that film is Mel Gibson's "The Passion of the Christ." Although the word passion has become mixed up with romance, its Latin origins refer to suffering and pain; later Christian theology broadened that to include Christ's love for mankind, which made him willing to suffer and die for us.
The movie is 126 minutes long, and I would guess that at least 100 of those minutes, maybe more, are concerned specifically and graphically with the details of the torture and death of Jesus. This is the most violent film I have ever seen.
I prefer to evaluate a film on the basis of what it intends to do, not on what I think it should have done. It is clear that Mel Gibson wanted to make graphic and inescapable the price that Jesus paid (as Christians believe) when he died for our sins. Anyone raised as a Catholic will be familiar with the stops along the way; the screenplay is inspired not so much by the Gospels as by the 14 Stations of the Cross. As an altar boy, serving during the Stations on Friday nights in Lent, I was encouraged to meditate on Christ's suffering, and I remember the chants as the priest led the way from one station to another:
At the Cross, her station keeping ...
Stood the mournful Mother weeping ...
Close to Jesus to the last.
For we altar boys, this was not necessarily a deep spiritual experience. Christ suffered, Christ died, Christ rose again, we were redeemed, and let's hope we can get home in time to watch the Illinois basketball game on TV. What Gibson has provided for me, for the first time in my life, is a visceral idea of what the Passion consisted of. That his film is superficial in terms of the surrounding message -- that we get only a few passing references to the teachings of Jesus -- is, I suppose, not the point. This is not a sermon or a homily, but a visualization of the central event in the Christian religion. Take it or leave it.
David Ansen, a critic I respect, finds in Newsweek that Gibson has gone too far. "The relentless gore is self-defeating," he writes. "Instead of being moved by Christ's suffering or awed by his sacrifice, I felt abused by a filmmaker intent on punishing an audience, for who knows what sins."
This is a completely valid response to the film, and I quote Ansen because I suspect he speaks for many audience members, who will enter the theater in a devout or spiritual mood and emerge deeply disturbed. You must be prepared for whippings, flayings, beatings, the crunch of bones, the agony of screams, the cruelty of the sadistic centurions, the rivulets of blood that crisscross every inch of Jesus' body. Some will leave before the end.
This is not a Passion like any other ever filmed. Perhaps that is the best reason for it. I grew up on those pious Hollywood biblical epics of the 1950s, which looked like holy cards brought to life. I remember my grin when Time magazine noted that Jeffrey Hunter, starring as Christ in "King of Kings" (1961), had shaved his armpits. (Not Hunter's fault; the film's Crucifixion scene had to be re-shot because preview audiences objected to Jesus' hairy chest.)
If it does nothing else, Gibson's film will break the tradition of turning Jesus and his disciples into neat, clean, well-barbered middle-class businessmen. They were poor men in a poor land. I debated Martin Scorsese's "The Last Temptation of Christ" with commentator Michael Medved before an audience from a Christian college, and was told by an audience member that the characters were filthy and needed haircuts.
The Middle East in biblical times was a Jewish community occupied against its will by the Roman Empire, and the message of Jesus was equally threatening to both sides: to the Romans, because he was a revolutionary, and to the establishment of Jewish priests, because he preached a new covenant and threatened the status quo.
In the movie's scenes showing Jesus being condemned to death, the two main players are Pontius Pilate, the Roman governor, and Caiaphas, the Jewish high priest. Both men want to keep the lid on, and while neither is especially eager to see Jesus crucified, they live in a harsh time when such a man is dangerous.
Pilate is seen going through his well-known doubts before finally washing his hands of the matter and turning Jesus over to the priests, but Caiaphas, who also had doubts, is not seen as sympathetically. The critic Steven D. Greydanus, in a useful analysis of the film, writes: "The film omits the canonical line from John's gospel in which Caiaphas argues that it is better for one man to die for the people [so] that the nation be saved.
"Had Gibson retained this line, perhaps giving Caiaphas a measure of the inner conflict he gave to Pilate, it could have underscored the similarities between Caiaphas and Pilate and helped defuse the issue of anti-Semitism."
This scene and others might justifiably be cited by anyone concerned that the movie contains anti-Semitism. My own feeling is that Gibson's film is not anti-Semitic, but reflects a range of behavior on the part of its Jewish characters, on balance favorably. The Jews who seem to desire Jesus' death are in the priesthood, and have political as well as theological reasons for acting; like today's Catholic bishops who were slow to condemn abusive priests, Protestant TV preachers who confuse religion with politics, or Muslim clerics who are silent on terrorism, they have an investment in their positions and authority. The other Jews seen in the film are viewed positively; Simon helps Jesus to carry the cross, Veronica brings a cloth to wipe his face, Jews in the crowd cry out against his torture.
A reasonable person, I believe, will reflect that in this story set in a Jewish land, there are many characters with many motives, some good, some not, each one representing himself, none representing his religion. The story involves a Jew who tried no less than to replace the established religion and set himself up as the Messiah. He was understandably greeted with a jaundiced eye by the Jewish establishment while at the same time finding his support, his disciples and the founders of his church entirely among his fellow Jews. The libel that the Jews "killed Christ" involves a willful misreading of testament and teaching: Jesus was made man and came to Earth in order to suffer and die in reparation for our sins. No race, no man, no priest, no governor, no executioner killed Jesus; he died by God's will to fulfill his purpose, and with our sins we all killed him. That some Christian churches have historically been guilty of the sin of anti-Semitism is undeniable, but in committing it they violated their own beliefs.
This discussion will seem beside the point for readers who want to know about the movie, not the theology. But "The Passion of the Christ," more than any other film I can recall, depends upon theological considerations. Gibson has not made a movie that anyone would call "commercial," and if it grosses millions, that will not be because anyone was entertained. It is a personal message movie of the most radical kind, attempting to re-create events of personal urgency to Gibson. The filmmaker has put his artistry and fortune at the service of his conviction and belief, and that doesn't happen often.
Is the film "good" or "great?" I imagine each person's reaction (visceral, theological, artistic) will differ. I was moved by the depth of feeling, by the skill of the actors and technicians, by their desire to see this project through no matter what. To discuss individual performances, such as James Caviezel's heroic depiction of the ordeal, is almost beside the point. This isn't a movie about performances, although it has powerful ones, or about technique, although it is awesome, or about cinematography (although Caleb Deschanel paints with an artist's eye), or music (although John Debney supports the content without distracting from it).
It is a film about an idea. An idea that it is necessary to fully comprehend the Passion if Christianity is to make any sense. Gibson has communicated his idea with a singleminded urgency. Many will disagree. Some will agree, but be horrified by the graphic treatment. I myself am no longer religious in the sense that a long-ago altar boy thought he should be, but I can respond to the power of belief whether I agree or not, and when I find it in a film, I must respect it.
Note: I said the film is the most violent I have ever seen. It will probably be the most violent you have ever seen. This is not a criticism but an observation; the film is unsuitable for younger viewers, but works powerfully for those who can endure it. The MPAA's R rating is definitive proof that the organization either will never give the NC-17 rating for violence alone, or was intimidated by the subject matter. If it had been anyone other than Jesus up on that cross, I have a feeling that NC-17 would have been automatic.
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Perfect Humility
"I suddenly remembered that on one can enter heaven except as a child; and nothing is so obvious in a child-- not in a conceited child, but in a good child-- as its great and undisguised pleasure in being praised. Not only in a child, either, but even in a dog or a horse. Apparently what I had mistaken for humility had, all these years, prevented me from understanding what is in fact the humblest, the most childlike, the most creaturely of pleasures--nay, the specific pleasure of the inferior: the pleasure of a beast before men, a child before its father, a pupil before his teacher, a creature before its Creator. I am not forgetting how horribly this most innocent desire is parodied in our human ambitions, or how very quickly, in my own experience, the lawful pleasure of praise from those whom it was my duty to please turns into the deadly poison of self-admiration. But I thought I could detect a moment--a very, very short moment--before this happened, during which the staisfaction of having pleased those whom I rightly loved and rightly feared was pure. And that is enought to raise our thoughts to what may happen when the redeemed soul, beyond all hope and nearly beyond belief, learns at last that she has pleased Him whom she was created to please. There will be no room for vanity then. She will be free from the miserable illusion that is is her doing. With no taint of what we should now call self-approval she will most innocently rejoice in the thing that God has made her to be, and the moment which heals her old inferiority complex forever will also drown her pride deeper than Prospero's book. Perfect humility dispenses with modesty. If God is satisfied with the work, the work may be satisfied with itself; "it is not for her to bandy compliments with her Sovereign."
----C.S. Lewis, "The Weight of Glory"
----C.S. Lewis, "The Weight of Glory"
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Those of you who read my silly posts will clearly remember that I posted a particular blog about a boy. Ahem, yes, I know you remember. Anyway, lately I've found myself very attracted to quite a few different "men" (aka high school boys). Now, I'm not sure if this is because I'm suddenly around way more guys than I've ever been throughout my entire life, or whether I'm maturing mentally and emotionally and am naturally feeling inclined to find a mate. In any case, I've found that Jesus is slowly fading from my thoughts as boys consume them. This may sound quite sad, but it's actually shown me how much I appreciate Jesus and His constant love. See, a year ago I was going through a very difficult maturing stage in my relationship with Jesus. I felt as if He wasn't ever there, that He didn't love me, that He left me to fend for myself. While yes, He was indeed there, He did love me, and He was always there to help me fight my battles, I still felt very empty. I felt abandoned by Him. Although Jesus never abandons us, He sometimes quietly steps into the shadows. I didn't understand why Jesus left me at such a difficult time. It made no sense. I had very angry conversations with him often, but continued to beg for the grace to see His purpose in leaving me alone. In time I did. I couldn't fully love Jesus until I learned to love Him without receiving love in return. I was basically feeding back what He was giving me. That doesn't work in a relationship. I tried and am continually trying to love Him without feeling His love in return. However, there are many moments when my heart almost explodes with the love He has for me. Sometimes I have to stop doing what I'm doing to just catch my breath because it is so overwhelming. That overwhelming feeling is the feeling I should have for Him. This task is by far the hardest He has ever given me. To love someone whom you don't feel loves you in return is very difficult. It's clearly much easier to love someone whom you feel loves you back.
I kind of got off topic. Anyway, the reason I feel such an appreciation for Jesus' love is because no boy, however handsome or charming he is, will be able to love me the way Jesus does. It's now come to the point where I don't even need to feel Jesus' love in order to know how very dearly He loves and cares for me. In later years I will, if ever, be used in past tense when those boys say my name. They will probably know nothing about my whereabouts. I am glad to know that I will always be used in present tense or future tense when Jesus talks about me. It's relieving to know that He always has my best interest at heart. So yes, now I must do the task of bringing Jesus back into the forefront of my thoughts. I don't see how I will be able to stand strongly without doing so. I think I'll move to an all girls school. Just kidding. I'm going to put paper bags over every boy's head. Just kidding. I don't know how I'm going to handle the situation. Maybe the paper bag idea is the right way to go about things...:)
I kind of got off topic. Anyway, the reason I feel such an appreciation for Jesus' love is because no boy, however handsome or charming he is, will be able to love me the way Jesus does. It's now come to the point where I don't even need to feel Jesus' love in order to know how very dearly He loves and cares for me. In later years I will, if ever, be used in past tense when those boys say my name. They will probably know nothing about my whereabouts. I am glad to know that I will always be used in present tense or future tense when Jesus talks about me. It's relieving to know that He always has my best interest at heart. So yes, now I must do the task of bringing Jesus back into the forefront of my thoughts. I don't see how I will be able to stand strongly without doing so. I think I'll move to an all girls school. Just kidding. I'm going to put paper bags over every boy's head. Just kidding. I don't know how I'm going to handle the situation. Maybe the paper bag idea is the right way to go about things...:)
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