The Passion

[Bronco]

 

I'm sure you've all seen it by now anyway but, if you haven't you should.

 

I lauged out loud when the crucified criminal started lauging at Jesus (who was also hanging on a cross) and God sends a raven to peck his eye out.

 

Is there something wrong with me?

[Lars]

i havent seen it yet, but i will be seeing it this week

TR to follow

[catbirdseat]

Is there something wrong with me?

Without a doubt.

[chirp]

What does the H stand for in Jesus name? I never could figure that one out.

[cracked]

Horatio.

[Stonehead]

Hype

 

Cheesus

[catbirdseat]

Just remember this: always look on the bright side of life.

[griz]

I'm waiting abit... I am thinking this weekend's crowd would be largely religious versions of trekies and LOTR dorks...

 

yeah,I know...I'll burn in hell for sure.

[To_The_Top]

I went out with "Jesus's" cousin for 2 years

(The actors cousin that is)

[nonanon]

"THE PASSION": JESUS IN SUB-SPACE

 

I first encountered "traditionalist" Catholicism back in the 1970s.

 

As a teen, I went shopping for religions, or at least tried to sample

all the selections before retreating into generalized cynicism. One

evening I found myself listening to a lecture given by a man I'll call

Father Pierre, a fellow who seemed to believe in anything and

everything -- bleeding communion wafers, Our Lady of Fatima, splinters

of the True Cross, you name it. Everything, that is, except the legacy

of the Vatican II conference, which had tried to drag the Catholic

Church into the modern age. The modern age held no charms for Father

Pierre.

 

My attention drifted to the small aviary of young-ish ‘nuns' who

flitted about the handsome Father Pierre, tending to his every need.

"Oh, he's so spiritual this evening!" one cooed to the other.

 

"Yes, yes," replied her sister. "So spiritual. Filled with power and

spirit..."

 

These gals were gushing. In more ways than one. They practically left

snail trails on the carpet. (I was hardly surprised to discover, many

years later, that accusations of ‘impropriety' swirled around Father

Pierre.)

 

Nothing ushers you into cynicism faster than a youthful encounter with

the subterranean sexual underpinnings of extreme religiosity.

 

Watching Mel Gibson's well-crafted but unmoving "The Passion of the

Christ" reminded me of that long-ago evening. My initial fears that

evangelicals would find this film a potent recruiting device have

proven groundless. By exposing the psychopathology underlying his

version of traditionalist Christianity, Gibson has made the worst

possible argument for his faith.

 

"The Passion" strips Jesus of his message, ignores (for the most part)

both his humanity and his spirituality, and reduces him to a suffering

cipher. In Gibson's hands, Jesus becomes the central figure in a work

of blood-soaked homosexual pornography. This film is a two-hour-long

BDSM session, with Jesus playing "bottom" for a Jerusalem teeming with

ruthless gay Doms.

 

I do not object to the level of violence. I object, in part, to the

fact that violence is all this film has to offer, just as sex is all

that a sex film has to offer. First and foremost, I object to a

filmmaker so lacking in self-awareness that he cannot admit, either to

his audience or to himself, the true motives underlying his

obsessions.

 

BDSM explores primeval areas of sexuality and self-worth, and many who

feel drawn to the imagery of erotic torture can never acknowledge this

attraction on a conscious level. Mel Gibson, obviously, doesn't have

the courage to look into this mirror. However, as Father Pierre's

‘nuns' taught me, religion can offer an outlet for the repressed and

unacknowledged side of one's sexuality.

 

Those who've read about BDSM, or spoken to anyone involved with the

lifestyle, will recognize the flagellation scene in "Passion" for what

it is: A hyperbolized version of the sort of activity that thousands

of men and women experience in makeshift "dungeons" across the world,

sometimes even paying for the privilege. The punishment we see on

screen has little to do with actual Roman justice; forget about the

traditional 39 lashes administered by bored soldiers just doing their

jobs. The soldiers onscreen here relish their duties with a flagrantly

sexual glee.

 

In most BDSM scenes, the flogging slowly increases in intensity. The

session starts with the lighter instruments of torment, then proceeds

to the heavier, more sanguinary implements. When the "bottom" has

achieved an altered state of consciousness called "sub-space," the

"Top" turns him over to administer flagellation on the more sensitive

front side of his body. "The Passion" follows this time-honored

sequence, differing from offerings of fetish pornographers only in the

quantity of its bloodletting.

 

The Roman flagrum, I've read, had small bits of metal or animal bone

embedded into the tails. That's not good enough for Gibson, who

provides huge meat hooks which dig deep into the flesh. What we see on

screen is not just the record of a "normal" BDSM scene; this is a born

masochist's vision of the ultimate in submission.

 

Before the first time they administer the whip or the cane, Tops are

admonished to keep all strikes between the shoulder blades, never

hitting the sensitive sides of the abdomen. Many sadists, however,

long for the forbidden, and the more extreme Tops dream about finding

a bottom who consents to being flogged anywhere, even in the

proscribed zones. Similarly, the most extreme bottoms take an odd

pride in their lack of limitations. Once we understand this sexual

dynamic, we can better understand why the flagellation in "Passion"

builds to a climactic shot in which the flagrum cuts deep into the

side of Jesus' flesh. The camera records this blow in clear,

pornographic detail. Jesus reacts with an agony tinged with ecstasy.

 

A few subs dreamily consider extending their suffering to its logical

conclusion -- the final submission. The Gospel story has spawned many

a necro-erotic vision; a few underground BDSM clubs have featured live

crucifixions. These extreme sexual fantasies, founded on guilts and

self-hatreds many share but few confess, may well be the hidden source

for orthodox Christianity's barbaric theology of blood substitution

and human sacrifice to appease a primitive deity.

 

When Gibson's lifeless Jesus receives the spear in the side, resulting

in a (Biblically justifiable) gusher of blood and liquid, a Roman

soldier gets sprayed in the face. Anyone one who has ever watched an

adult video will recognize this moment as the film's cum shot.

 

Having spent himself on Golgotha, Gibson cannot bother with the

entombment, the anointing, the garden encounter, the angels in the

tomb or the other details of the Resurrection. The empty tomb doesn't

arouse him. The Ascension bores him. Mary Magdalene? Pheh. She's so

vanilla.

 

Now we know why Gibson gave his film a title with an obvious double

meaning. Now we know the reason for his well-known discomfort with

homosexuality. Now we know why images of torture permeate so many of

his films.

 

Even Bill O'Reilly's recent television interview with the fidgety,

manic Gibson inadvertently revealed this film-maker's pathological

masochism. My cathode ray tube has hosted few images more obscene than

that of Mel Gibson whining about the sufferings and persecutions he

has undergone. In a world teeming with unfortunates beset by genuine

poverty and oppression, this widely-loved, world-famous

mega-millionaire has the audacity to claim HE is the one undergoing

"persecution" -- simply because some people dared to criticize his

movie. What stupefying audacity!

 

Gibson carried this audacity to further heights when he spoke of

loving his persecutors. In doing so, he displayed an obnoxious

condescension -- but he also let us glimpse a carefully occulted

truth. On a certain plane, he does indeed love his persecutors. Or

rather: He loves the idea of being persecuted.

 

Gibson has bragged about the fact that, on screen, his is the hand

that drives the first nail. We are told that he made this gesture to

emphasize his own sense of sin. Yes, Mel, we know. You've been a bad

boy. You've been a VERY bad boy.

 

-- Martin Cannon

 

(This text, if unaltered, can be reproduced anywhere.)

[arlen]

 

B-kheeruut re'yaaneyh laa kaaley tsuuraathaa khteepaathaa, ellaa Zaynaa Mqatlaanaa Trayaanaa laytaw!

It may be uncompromising in its liberal use of graphic violence, but Lethal Weapon II it ain't.

 

Da'ek teleyfoon methta'naanaak, pquud. Guudaapaw!

Please turn off your mobile phone. It is blasphemous.

 

Shbuuq shuukhaaraa deel. Man ethnaggad udamshaa?

Sorry I'm late. Have I missed any scourging?

 

Aamar naa laak dlaa yaada' naa haw gavraa. B-aynaa feelmaa hwaa?

I tell you I do not know the man. What's he been in?

 

and more