Written as an editorial for the Minnesota Star Tribune by Nikki Frizzell
I was flipping through a recent issue of Worship Leader magazine on Sunday, very interested in their article on the Mel Gibson movie “The Passion of Christ.” In the article, the writer recommends that believers use caution and discretion when inviting seeker friends to this film. Yesterday a girlfriend and I chatted about the movie, and she wondered if I intended to see it. “I’ve heard it’s pretty graphically violent. I know how you are.” And she’s right about me. I’ve learned that I have a deep sensitivity to witnessing the pain of human suffering. Sure, I can read about it, send in my donation, and keep on moving. But when it comes to viewing it, it is often more than I can bear. Or at least, it was. On September 11, 2001 I watched the news, and things changed. It wasn’t a morbid curiosity that kept me clued to the TV that day. It was a sense of purpose and a feeling of necessity that kept me there. And though there was a number of times that I had to leave because I was physically ill from witnessing live the pain of these strangers, they were the reason I watched. I was safe and comfortable while they were dying. It could have been me. So I watched and prayed for them because it was the least that I could do at that moment. I owed it to them. Much later I was proud of myself for this small milestone in my life. I didn’t turn away. I was sick from it, literally, but I endured the pain on their behalf. It’s easier for me now to watch the documentaries of sick and hungry children in third world countries. I cry all the time, even when the subject isn’t so heartbreaking. But I know that I’m better for the tears, and I’m giving a part of myself that is dear, and it’s usually all that I can give. I’m able to grieve for them, when before I would’ve preferred to look the other way to spare myself the pain. So, back to The Passion of the Christ. I’m going, of course. I wouldn’t miss it! And for the graphic violence? I say, “Bring it on!” I want to be spared nothing. I see this as more than a film. It my first opportunity to truly relive history as if I were present. And I refuse to turn away to spare myself the pain of Christ’s death. I want to weep, I want to suffer, and I want to be crucified with Christ. It seems like the least I can do. I will be granted a realistic glimmer of the suffering that took place on my behalf. It is the price that was paid for my entrance into heaven. The least I can do is watch it all and suffer too. It is a natural thing to want to protect ourselves and our friends from upsetting images; images we will probably never forget. But what is so horrid about remember this suffering? It is a gift to suffer with Christ. And I encourage you, my friends, to suffer. Don’t use discretion in whom you invite! Invite everyone! Don’t turn your eyes away or guard your heart. Don’t miss a moment. It is the least we can do. The first words to the song I’m writing have been inspired by meditating on that article. Here they are:
“Do not spare me anything. I will not hide my eyes.
I will not turn away from the passion of my Christ.
And if my heart breaks, let it break completely in two.
Don’t spare me anything. The least that I can do is feel.”
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