Yesterday I saw “Son of God,” the newest Gospel movie,
produced by Mark Burnett and Roma Downey.
I know there is much discussion of its merit as an accurate depiction of
the Gospel of John being had by the Church and Christians, and while that can
be healthy to a point, I’d rather not get into that in this post.
What I would like
to discuss, or rather share, is my experience while watching it. As with each time I hear the Gospel or
stories of Jesus I found myself easily identifying with each of the characters
surrounding Jesus. The film did an
excellent job facilitating this by the way it showed each character holistically. I am Peter who talks a big game but so easily
denies Jesus when it’s inconvenient to own Him. I am Thomas who needs
everything laid out in front of me before I can truly believe and trust
Him. I am even Judas who, after I betray
Jesus (and we all betray Jesus), turns to despair rather than to the hope I
have in Him to save me from myself. This
time, however, I saw myself in a new character: Caiaphas, the High Priest.
I suppose I’ve always viewed Caiaphas as pure evil. Threatened by Jesus’ following, he wanted to
get rid of him. And that is certainly
part of it. But this film showed another
side to Caiaphas. As the High Priest he was
obsessed with following the Law, obeying God at all costs, and protecting his
people and his faith. He was a Jewish
leader living under Roman rule struggling to keep his people together and he
just KNEW that if he followed the law meticulously and removed all distractions
that God would bless him and his people, preserve them, and deliver them through
this captivity. Yet this obsession and devotion to the law (spurred on by fear)
caused him to miss what was right in front of him. It blinded him to the fulfillment of the
law. The rescue from the law. The answer to his prayers and the prayers of
his people for so many years. In short,
Caiaphas was so busy worrying about what he should do and must do as High
Priest to get it all right that he missed the Great High Priest who had come to
set all to right.
I saw this movie with my boyfriend. That feels like a weird detail to put in the
post, but it’s relevant to my later point, so go with it. Anyways, as we sat down and the movie began I
made a conscious decision, as I had 7 years earlier with “Passion of the Christ,”
that I wasn't going to close my eyes or turn away from any of the hard parts of
the film. There are so few times (perhaps
once a year on Good Friday) that I let myself really think about and dwell on
the physical pain and agony Jesus endured on my behalf that I wanted to allow
myself to feel all of it as I watched. So,
I did. And as the scenes unfolded and I
watched my Lord tortured and beaten on my behalf, I found myself having two
very normal human reactions: I cried,
and needing comfort and just a human touch, I reached for the hand of the
person watching with me.
But even as I did this my mind began racing towards how I
was supposed to act while watching
this scene. There I was watching Jesus
being killed on a huge screen. Being
reminded of His sacrifice for me and all I’m thinking is “Is it okay to hold
hands during this part? Should I be watching this alone, in the zone with God
so that I can just focus on myself and all my sin? Should I even allow myself to be comforted
right now? And by this person I’m dating?”
On and on went my thoughts. All
the while on and on went Jesus’ torture on screen. For me.
He’s dying, and I’m sitting there asking “am I watching Him die for me
in the right way? Am I doing what I’m supposed to do while I’m watching Him die?” You see where I’m going
with this, perhaps. These seem like
silly questions when voiced aloud.
But, I am Caiaphas.
Even as I watch the very actions that make God’s grace possible for me,
I am so focused on “doing it right” or “getting it right” that I lose track of
the very grace for which Jesus died. I
am so focused on experiencing God “correctly” that I totally check out
of the main point—His grace. And that IS
the main point isn't it? That hard as we
try, we just cannot do it. We cannot get
it together. We cannot earn it. This is the message of Lent and it is the
message of the Gospel as a whole.
I remember watching the “Passion of the Christ” in college
and thinking in my head “I’m so sorry, Lord. I’m so sorry. I made you have to go through
this. It was my sins.” I remember having
those thoughts lead me to conviction and almost despair over what I did to my Lord
and how I would improve. As if my
sinning less could have kept Jesus from the cross. I was Caiaphas, and I still am. Only now, 7 years later, though I find myself still convicted
and saying “I’m sorry"; still mourning my sin, something has changed There's been a paradigm shift. No longer is it “oh if only I could do this right.” It is now “I can’t do it right. So, Jesus, I
need you to go through this and to rise again for me. Because I can’t do it.” And that is the most humbling part. It had to be that way. He had to die, because even at our best, even
with good intentions, we are sinful. It
had to be Him so that it wouldn’t be us. Amen.
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