Jesus Films and the 'Jews'

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We now go to Pier Paolo Pasolini’s Il Vangelo secondo Matteo aka The Gospel according to St. Matthew.

There is an anecdote that when Italian director and poet Pier Paolo Pasolini was stranded in Assisi because of a traffic jam in 1962 (Pope John XXIII was in the city for a dialogue with non-Catholic artists, and Pasolini was there to attend it), he checked into a hotel and found a copy of the New Testament by the bedside. He read through all four gospels, being particularly moved by Matthew. He finally made the decision: this gospel simply had to be filmed. This decision according to him “threw in the shade all the other ideas for work I had in my head.”

Pasolini was the type of guy that seemed to be the least likely person to ever make a film about Jesus: he was an atheist, indeed an outspoken homosexual and a Marxist, who had courted controversy time and again because of his personal views and due to his films (he admittedly have at times made some pretty questionable films both before and after he directed Matthew). In fact, just around the same time he was making his own Jesus film, he first made a short film about people making a Jesus film (La ricotta) which proved to be quite controversial because of its subject matter - he was found guilty at court under the charge of blasphemy and imprisoned for four months (the conviction was later declared void in a court of appeals). A disclaimer was tacked on to the beginning of the film wherein Pasolini denies that he holds the Passion in contempt:

It’s not difficult to predict for this story of mine biased, ambiguous and scandalized judgments. In any case, I want to state here and now that however La ricotta is taken, the story of the Passion - which La ricotta indirectly recalls - is for me the greatest event that has ever happened and the books that recount it are the most sublime ever written.

So it surprised quite a lot of people when Pasolini unveiled his film (dedicated to “the dear, joyous, familiar memory of Pope John XXIII”!) and found his portrayal of the gospel to be very reverential.

Because he felt that “images could never reach the poetic heights of the text,” Pasolini chose to simply use the text of Matthew’s gospel as his script, with no original additions - although he was at liberty to rearrange some scenes and omit others. He had also chosen to omit any narration, preferring instead to express them whenever possible with images. The film’s cast of non-actors (all in the tradition of Italian neorealism - the guy who played Jesus for one was a then 19-year old student from Spain - he later made a name for himself as a chess player), its black-and-white photography, and somewhat deliberate minimalistic, low-budget, anachronistic (as Pasolini wanted to approach the gospel on his own terms, he deliberately did no research and made the costumes look cheap and the armor medieval-looking) feel - worlds away from the grandiose epics American filmmakers were churning out at that time - ironically gives out a sense of gritty realism more than Hollywood could ever produce.

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Pasolini’s Jesus is far removed from the serene, ‘meek and mild’ Christ of holy cards: here, He is on fire, always on the move while delivering His words in the strongest terms possible with revolutionary (that’s an important key word) zeal and urgency. Take for example the film’s version of the Sermon on the Mount (Matthew 5-7), the choosing of the twelve disciples (Matthew 10) and the seven Woes to the Scribes and Pharisees (Matthew 23:1-39).
 
As mentioned earlier, Matthew and John hold the distinction of being the most Jewish of the canonical gospels and (ironically) at the same time being the most ‘anti-Jewish’ of the four. Matthew is unintelligible without the context of the Hebrew Bible and Jewish tradition; his main theological points themes draw upon Jewish tradition for their vocabulary and content. The author is absolutely certain that Jesus is the fulfillment of the Jewish Scriptures - of Judaism - and makes his case for it; for him, rejection of Jesus is the rejection of the correct understanding of Judaism.

There are times however when Matthew’s earnestness and surety could become sharply polemical. Matthew contains some of Jesus’ most virulent statements in all the New Testament: for instance, Jesus’ haranguing the scribes and the Pharisees in chapter 23. Judas’ identification of Jesus as “Rabbi” could even be seen in this light. (Note: only characters antagonistic to Jesus call Him “Teacher”/“Rabbi” in Matthew; those who believe in Jesus call Him “Lord.”) The most infamous line within the Christian Scriptures: “his blood on us and on our children,” (27:25) is also from this gospel.

Finally, there is one overarching theme throughout the gospel: the rejection of Israel’s Messiah. Prior to Jesus’ crucifixion the Jews are mainly called Israelites, the honorific title of God’s chosen people (cf. 8:10; 9:33; 10:6; 10:23; 15:24, 31; 19:28); after it, they are called Ioudaioi “Jews” (28:15), a sign that through their rejection of the Christ the “kingdom of Heaven” has been taken away from them and given instead to the new Israel, the Church, which is open to both Jew and gentile alike. Another motif is that of the “retreating Jesus:” Matthew’s Jesus retreats from the Jewish people (cf: 23:39) into the circle of His disciples, and then intensifies His mission (which was originally directed only towards the “house of Israel”) by ordering His followers to “make disciples of all nations.” (28:19)

In light of all this, it is interesting to see how Pasolini handles his source material. While he is mostly faithful to the text as written, there are some directorial decisions which seem to attempt to soften the text’s potential to be read in an anti-Jewish or anti-Semitic light.

First of these is the costuming of the chief priests and the Pharisees. Pasolini seems to lump these two groups together, although they were distinct historically. There is some warrant for this decision in Matthew’s text: Matthew distinctly likes to cast “the Pharisees” as Jesus’ main opponents during His ministry and the target of His (and the author’s) polemic, somewhat much more than other gospels do (except perhaps for John). In a couple of passages Matthew even pairs “the chief priests and the Pharisees” together (21:45; 27:62), a combination which is more common in John’s gospel. Note however that “the Pharisees” drop out of sight after chapter 23: they do not figure in the Passion predictions or in the Passion narrative proper, except for a cameo appearance in chapter 27 along with “the chief priests.”

In any case, in Pasolini’s film the Pharisees and the temple priests do not wear anything visibly ‘Jewish’ like tallitot (cloaks = modern ‘prayer shawls’) or tefillin (phylacteries). Instead, they wear flowing robes and don bizarre, basket-like hats which is inspired more by medieval and Renaissance Christian art rather than actual Jewish headdresses. Some of them even wear headpieces that clearly resemble a bishop’s mitre. These costuming decisions have led some to theorize that Pasolini was lodging a subtle criticism of organized religion by identifying it with Jesus’ opponents, which is perhaps influenced by his Marxist leanings. (Critics also attribute his image of a fiery, radical Jesus to this.) The outlandish, ostentatious dress of the chief priests and the Pharisees contrasts with the rough, simple clothing worn by Jesus and His disciples.

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Pasolini also includes all of Jesus’ woes against the scribes and Pharisees in Matthew 23 (here’s the clip again), recasting the context as a sort of political rally. The interesting thing about this however is that during the duration of the scene, the targets of the tirade are nowhere to be seen. Instead, Jesus condemns the Pharisees with the zeal of a ‘fire-and-brimstone’ preacher while the people listen and Roman soldiers arrive to prevent any disturbance. Pasolini was drawing an analogy between the situation in the 1st century and the political and social context of contemporary Italy; the visual absence of the Pharisees may be intended to draw the viewer’s attention away from the gospel’s original context and see it applied to a modern setting.

By omitting the apocalyptic discourse (Matthew 24-25) and going straight through the plot to kill Jesus (26:1ff.) Pasolini has reinforced his image of Jesus as a social revolutionary: His indictment of the authorities before the crowds, rather than His Temple act or the raising of Lazarus (as it was in the synoptics or John, respectively) becomes the reason for His death. So what we have is not so much ‘the evil Jews’ persecuting the Son of God, but the elite powers-that-be cracking down on the zealous revolutionary (the whole ‘class struggle’ thing).
 
A unique characteristic of the film is its somewhat dispassionate treatment of Jesus’ passion. It has become a staple of Jesus films to have a close focus on Jesus’ suffering and death: close attention is paid to His scourging, His carrying the cross, and His being nailed to the cross. Pasolini’s ultra-literal approach - the events are acted out simply as they are written in Matthew in a bare-bones sort of way, with no addition of any kind - however makes for a slightly unconventional viewing; some critics have complained that this film’s Jesus doesn’t really seem to suffer greatly. No blood is shed on-screen; Jesus’ tidy slicked-back hair isn’t even messed up by the crown of thorns!

One unconventional portrayal is that the scuffle at Gethsemane (Matthew 26:51-56a) is placed before Judas’ kissing Jesus (26:49-50). The resulting picture is almost Johannine: while the disciples prevent the arrest party from approaching, Jesus rushes to meet His captors of His own initiative.

The depictions of the trials before the high priest and Pilate is also worth noting: the viewer sees the events through the eyes of witnesses behind the crowd (in this case, Peter and John respectively), the hand-held camera adopting their point of view. The camera cranes, trying to see above the heads of the people in the front; we can distinguish the players on the other side but we do not see or hear them very clearly. The effect then is to lump the Jewish and Roman authorities together and to create a gap between the ‘elite’ and the ‘commoners’. By situating the viewers among the crowd that perceives the proceedings only from afar, Pasolini engages the viewer’s support for opposition to hierarchy and social authority. The class struggle theme is present again: this is no longer a ‘Jew vs. Jew’ or even a ‘Jew vs. Roman’ issue, but one of ‘the authorities vs. the masses’.

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Jesus before Caiaphas

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Jesus before Pilate
There is also a contrast with the trial scene in The Passion of the Christ: here the chief priests give out their decision calmly, and Jesus is hit not by them, but by a small group of random hecklers (who seem to have appeared out of nowhere) as He was being led away.

This tactic also helpen smoothen out the difficulties in the trial before Pilate: because the camera is ‘among the crowd’, so to speak, and is busy looking at the front, we do not exactly see who shouts for Barabbas to be released and for Jesus to be crucified - whether it is the surrounding crowd or a group within them or some other faction is left to the viewer’s imagination. The film also includes Pilate’s declaration of innocence (27:24) - albeit we do not see him wash his hands - and the controversial reply (27:25). Here however, only a lone, disembodied voice declares responsibility for the blood of Jesus just as the scene had switched from the trial to the interior of the praetorium (where Jesus is to be mocked). Whoever the speaker is, he clearly does not represent either the watching crowd or any faction among them.

The underemphasis on Jesus’ passion continues during the mocking and the way of the cross scenes. There is no indication that Pasolini’s Jesus is scourged (his clothing and his hair appear perfectly safe); the crowning of thorns is quickly done over with, with no visible indication of pain on the part of Jesus. As Jesus carries His cross (clip here), the camera focuses more on Mary - played by Pasolini’s own mother Susanna, a devout Catholic - than it does on Jesus.

Pasolini also omits the mocking of Jesus by the passersby and the chief priests (27:39-44). We do see a lot of people following Jesus to Golgotha and watching as He is being crucified, but the camera continues instead to focus on Mary and other disciples before fading to black (clip here) as a narrator quotes from Isaiah 6:9-10 (cf. Matthew 13:14-15): “You will indeed hear but never understand, and you will indeed see but never perceive…”

On the one hand, the quote seems to indict the Jews (specifically the Jewish authorities), since in the original context of Isaiah the target is the people of Israel. But in light of the general theme of the film perhaps this is meant to target not so much 1st century Jewish leaders but contemporary authorities: the suffering of Jesus is identified with the suffering of the masses, and this oppression is attributed to the obstinacy of the mighty.
 
The scene then immediately cuts to Jesus crying out the words of Psalm 22 (Matthew 27:45-46). At this point only the execution squad guarding the crosses is still present; the crowd that had gathered earlier had disappeared, thus identifying the “bystanders” who misidentify Jesus’ cry and give Him sour wine to drink (27:47-49) as being Roman soldiers. The story about guards being posted at Jesus’ tomb and the chief priests bribing the guards (27:62-66; 28:11-15) is also left out; a short scene does show a few bored-looking soldiers guarding the sepulchre (clip here), but there is no indication as to who posted them there or what happened to them afterwards. In fact, it is even ambiguous as to whether they are supposed to be the guards of Matthew 27-28. We only see a closeup of these men; when the women arrive at the tomb there is no sign of them.

Interestingly, while Matthew only speaks of “Mary Magdalene and the other Mary,” here we see three women (same number as Mark’s version) accompanied by some male disciples. Is Mary the mother of Jesus supposed to be identified with this “other Mary” - which would leave the identity of the third woman mysterious - or is she meant to be a third addition to Matthew’s two women?

P.S. I haven’t noted it yet, but the location Pasolini used for the film is the city of Matera in southern Italy, the same place Mel Gibson used in The Passion of the Christ and Catherine Hardwicke in The Nativity Story. Pasolini had at first intended to film in the Holy Land, but after going there and finding the original locations too modernized and commercialized for his liking (the subject of a fifty-two minute documentary Sopralluoghi in Palestina “Location Hunting in Palestine”), eventually settled for his native Italy.
 
Has any movie ever tried to harmonize all four Gospels into one movie, chronologically?

I would buy that movie. If I was a rich movie producer I would totally make that movie.
 
Has any movie ever tried to harmonize all four Gospels into one movie, chronologically?

I would buy that movie. If I was a rich movie producer I would totally make that movie.
Most Jesus films actually follow the harmonization approach - they would take different incidents from various gospels and combine them all into a single movie. There isn’t any movie that I know of which tries to harmonize all the pericopes found in all four gospels a la the Diatessaron though - they are usually bound to omit a few events. For example, most Jesus films (save for a handful) omit the Transfiguration for some reason; some incidents which could potentially cast some potential doubt on the person of Jesus (such as the cursing of the fig tree or the Syro-Phoenician woman or the healing of the blind man of Bethsaida in Mark 8; Jesus also flees from potential lynch mobs quite a number of times in John’s gospel, but when was the last time you see Jesus running away in a movie?) are also some of the least favorite incidents.

They will also sometimes change the events a bit. Case in point: most films do not show the Sermon on the Mount as Matthew wrote it, and with good reason - it’s just three chapters of Jesus talking non-stop while sitting atop a mountain. It works on the written page, but not on-screen. (The only film I know of which attempts to do so is The Visual Bible: Matthew - which is, obviously, an adaptation of Matthew’s gospel, albeit a more literal one compared to Pasolini’s - but its attempts to avoid the viewer from getting bored by inserting ‘fun’ bits - say, Jesus randomly emptying a skin of water over a disciple’s head - IMHO sometimes veers into the crass.)

In fact, some would even say that Matthew’s Sermon on the Mount is supposed to be literary: Matthew has compiled different bits and pieces of Jesus’ teachings into one big section. (The Sermon on the Mount is the first of the five large blocks of discourse material in Matthew’s gospel - chapters 5-7; 10; 13; 18; 23-25 - all of which are concluded by the words “when Jesus have spoken these things.”) Jesus is portrayed as giving His intepretation of the Law from a mountain because Moses received the Law from a mountain. There are five teaching blocks because of the five books of the Torah.

Back to the issue, filmmakers usually agree more with Luke’s approach than they do with Matthew’s. Much of the material found in Matthew’s Sermon on the Mount is scattered throughout Luke’s gospel. For instance, “consider the lilies” is in the middle of Matthew’s sermon, but much later on in Luke (12:22-34). Likewise the Our Father, also located midway through the Sermon in Matthew, is found in a different context at the beginning of Luke 11. Like Luke, filmmakers often rearrange some of the material and move them earlier or later into the narrative.

When films do show the Sermon on the Mount (or more rarely, the Plain, as in Luke), it is often in a truncated form (the Beatitudes is usually shown in this context) and to prevent the visual monotony of only having Jesus speak, they will usually have Jesus walking around and/or doing something, or show some interaction on the part of the crowd - say, asking questions (so King of Kings), or intercutting to Jesus preaching the different parts of the Sermon in different occasions and locations (so Pasolini and The Bible). The third option is particularly interesting since while it acknowledges and generally stays true to the text as written, it also shows the literary nature of Matthew’s arrangement: like the biblical text, this cinematic portrayal is comprised of different footages from different contexts edited together into one.

And I don’t know what you mean by “chronologically.” The synoptics are episodic in nature and so differ from one another in the order of some pericopes (although the general structure is the same); John is I think the only one who attempts to give a sense of linear chronology to the incidents he is writing of, and even then his sequence of events also differ from that of the synoptics. As you can imagine there have been a lot of attempts to homogenize all of this into a coherent whole, but AFAIK no attempt is the same as another.

That’s basically the dilemma a filmmaker faces when filming the gospels. First of all, which incidents should one include? When one has decided that, there’s also the question of which version of the story to follow or at least, give greater preference to (if the scene occurs in two or more gospels).
 
I’ll be honest: Il Vangelo secondo Matteo is one of my favorites - in fact, this is one Jesus film I’d recommend everybody to watch even at least once.

Not exactly on-topic, but I’d like to introduce a few other clips: the visit of the magi and the slaughter of the infants (Matthew 2:7-18), the triumphal entry into Jerusalem and the cleansing of the Temple (Matthew 20:17-19; 21:1-16), and Jesus’ disputes with the authorities (Matthew 21:23-46; 22:14-40).

The treatment of the Matthaean triumphal entry is interesting. Unlike the other gospels, Matthew speaks of two animals - a donkey and a colt - since the Septuagint translation of Zechariah 9:9 speaks of “a beast of burden and a young foal.” While Matthew seems to have a literal fulfillment of Greek Zechariah by speaking of two animals, there is of course the problem: how was Jesus able to ride two donkeys at once - something which seems to be suggested by a literal reading of the text?

When they had come near Jerusalem and had reached Bethphage, at the Mount of Olives, Jesus sent two disciples, saying to them, ‘Go into the village ahead of you, and immediately you will find a donkey tied, and a colt with her; untie them and bring them to me. If anyone says anything to you, just say this, “The Lord needs them.” And he will send them immediately.’ This took place to fulfil what had been spoken through the prophet, saying,

‘Tell the daughter of Zion,
Look, your king is coming to you,
humble, and mounted on a donkey,
and on a colt, the foal of a donkey.’


The disciples went and did as Jesus had directed them; they brought the donkey and the colt, and put their cloaks on them, and he sat on them.

(21:1-7, NRSV)

For most films, this is a non-issue - they simply follow the version in the other gospels (Mark 11:1-7; Luke 19:28-35; John 12:12-15), where only one donkey is referred to. But in films which adapt Matthew - such as Pasolini’s and The Visual Bible: Matthew - filmmakers are at a dilemma of sorts. Pasolini attempts to solve the problem by having two animals (as in the text), but with Jesus sitting only on the donkey while the colt tags along behind. (The Visual Bible (oddly) seemingly only shows one donkey even though the mention of two beasts of burden in both Jesus’ words and the narration (taken from the NIV) is retained.)

We see more clearly Pasolini’s lumping of Jesus’ various opponents in the third clip. The chief priests and the elders of the people, the Pharisees, and the Sadducees are all represented as dressed in the flowing robes and the ridiculous, oversized hats and turbans. There is some attempt at identifying who is which (the Herodian (?) of 22:16 wears a turban; the Sadducee of 22:23 a dark brimmed hat, the chief priests wear the inverted cones - but then again so do the Pharisees, along with the mitres), but all of these authority figures are shown to stand alongside each other, facing the company of Jesus and the disciples - with the little children sitting in front of Jesus serving as the dividing wall. This, along with the fact that the different groups launch their questions at Jesus seemingly under the instigation of Caiaphas, blurs any distinction that might exist: “the people,” represented by Jesus and His band of disciples, is pitted against the vaguely-defined “authorities,” represented by all these groups.

Finally, here’s a trailer for the film. The trailer is notable because this is the only time we get a closeup of the actor playing Pilate. 😃
 
I don’t know anyone who walked away from the Passion an anti-Semite. I think it’s paranoia.
 
I don’t know anyone who walked away from the Passion an anti-Semite. I think it’s paranoia.
I think the issue is not so much about that, but is more about (as I noted) TPotC showing a flat, even a somewhat caricaturized portrayal of the Jewish leaders - or basically, Jews who were not sympathetic to Jesus - and the notable lack of any concrete explanation on-screen as to why the Jewish leaders hate Him and plot to have Him killed. With no context, the Jewish authorities are reduced to two-dimensional baddies who oppose the protagonist for no reason other than the fact that they’re ‘the villains’ - that’s what their role requires, doing evil stuff and so on.

While I do think that people can get too sensitive at times (crying ‘anti-Semitism’ where none exists), I also think that the portrayal in the film makes it susceptible to be interpreted as perpetuating the stereotype of ‘the evil Jews’ who lurk in the shadows and well, plotting and doing something nefarious or along those lines. As another poster noted, in the light of Mel’s unfortunate anti-Semitic rants while drunk (as well as the fact that his father Hutton Gibson is an outspoken anti-Semite), it kind of makes it easy for people to read into the film messages that may or may not be there. I agree that the film isn’t a ‘recruiting device’ for anti-Semitism but I do think that it has potential to be misused by amplifying whatever weird ideas some people out there might already have.

Had Mel given the same attention to the whole context of the passion by giving us a plausible, concrete reason as to why the Jewish authorities acted as they did on-screen as he did to the scenes of pain and torture, it would have made for a much better, more well-rounded film. I mean, he fleshed out Pilate’s character by showing his inner struggle - why didn’t he do the same for say, Caiaphas?
 
I’m gonna get to that soon. 🙂
Very good. 👍

I appreciate your thoughtful posts to this topic.

I do hope a thread is created on what writings or possibly things passed on through tradition may have helped develop perceptions of some of the High Priests and Jewish authorities of that time.
 
In any case, in Pasolini’s film the Pharisees and the temple priests do not wear anything visibly ‘Jewish’ like tallitot (cloaks = modern ‘prayer shawls’) or tefillin (phylacteries). Instead, they wear flowing robes and don bizarre, basket-like hats which is inspired more by medieval and Renaissance Christian art rather than actual Jewish headdresses. Some of them even wear headpieces that clearly resemble a bishop’s mitre. These costuming decisions have led some to theorize that Pasolini was lodging a subtle criticism of organized religion by identifying it with Jesus’ opponents, which is perhaps influenced by his Marxist leanings. (Critics also attribute his image of a fiery, radical Jesus to this.) The outlandish, ostentatious dress of the chief priests and the Pharisees contrasts with the rough, simple clothing worn by Jesus and His disciples.

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Just thought to add. The inspiration for the hats and the robes comes from a fresco cycle painted by Piero della Francesca (ca. 1415-1492) known as The History of the True Cross. In the frescoes these costumes are somewhat ironically apparently worn by Christian figures.


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Is it possible that the Holy Spirit inspired a two dimensional view of the Jews–not against the Jews–but because a three dimensional view of Jesus was what would be needed for future believer’s salvation?

If the gospel writers were indeed Jews would they have thought of the Jews in two dimensional terms?

If they were prayerfully reflecting on Jesus when they wrote their gospels and were trying to make sure that they let the Holy Spirit lead them–is it possible that that is the reason that the Jews are presented as two dimensional?

Just askin’–I don’t know the answer.
 
Is it possible that the Holy Spirit inspired a two dimensional view of the Jews–not against the Jews–but because a three dimensional view of Jesus was what would be needed for future believer’s salvation?

If the gospel writers were indeed Jews would they have thought of the Jews in two dimensional terms?

If they were prayerfully reflecting on Jesus when they wrote their gospels and were trying to make sure that they let the Holy Spirit lead them–is it possible that that is the reason that the Jews are presented as two dimensional?

Just askin’–I don’t know the answer.
The thing about the gospels - especially the synoptics - is that almost everyone is flat and two-dimensional. The evangelists did not try to give any sort of character depth or stuff like that to the characters in the drama - events are recounted in a bald, straightforward sort of way. In other words, they were simply content with the what happened rather than going all the way to explain the hows or whys. Let me quote Ed Sanders again:

The synoptic gospels lack most of the things that we now expect in the story of someone’s life. Looks, personality, character - we know very little. When it comes to the other figures besides Jesus, we are really in the dark. Pilate, curiously, is given touches of character by Matthew and John, but for the most part the other actors are very flat. Peter, we learn, was a little wishy-washy. What was John like? James? We do not know. What about the Pharisees? They appear in a group, denounce Jesus, sometimes are denounced in turn, and disappear. What were they up to? Were they all equally hostile towards Jesus? Where did they go when they disappeared? If they thought that Jesus’ disciples were breaking the sabbath law (Mark 2.24), why did they not lay a charge by reporting them to a priest (who might have fined them by requiring that each bring a sin offering, two birds, when next in Jerusalem)?

Many readers today do not realize how episodic the synoptic gospels are, since Christians have had almost 2000 years to build up a more novelistic view of the events and people in the gospels. Books have been written, movies made, explanations offered. On Sundays numerous priests, pastors and teachers retell some aspect of the gospel account, adding personality and motive. Judas, the disciple who betrayed Jesus, is often depicted as a frustrated zealot who wanted Jesus to lead a revolution, who thought of himself as a great man in Jesus’ kingdom, and who was bitterly angry when he learned that Jesus wanted another sort of kingdom. This gives the story colour and drama. There is nothing in the gospels about Judas’ ambitions at all. Perhaps he realized that Jesus was a marked man and decided to get out when he still could, while also making a profit. One guess is as good as another. Similarly Mary Magdalene has appealed enormously to people who have imagined all sorts of romantic things about her: she had been a prostitute, she was beautiful, she was in love with Jesus, she fled to France carrying his child. For all we know, on the basis of our sources, she was eighty-six, childless, and keen to mother unkempt young men.
 
You may want to look at this production of the Family Theater.

One of the TV episodes was “Hill Number One”, famous for featuring an early appearance by James Dean (as John the Apostle - not John the Baptist, as is commonly thought). It combined a World War II story with the story of the Crucifixion of Christ and has recently been released on DVD.

I saw this episode on television and IIRC, Raymond Burr played the part of Caiaphas.
 
You may want to look at this production of the Family Theater.

One of the TV episodes was “Hill Number One”, famous for featuring an early appearance by James Dean (as John the Apostle - not John the Baptist, as is commonly thought). It combined a World War II story with the story of the Crucifixion of Christ and has recently been released on DVD.

I saw this episode on television and IIRC, Raymond Burr played the part of Caiaphas.
I’ve yet to see Hill Number One, but from what I remember it is one of those films from the mid-20th century where Jesus does not appear. The Life of Christ series (also by Fr. Peyton’s Family Theater) - now that’s a film (or rather, a series of short films) where the only thing you can see of Jesus is His back.
 
You want me to lecture and babble about the origins of the Christian use of images? It would take me a full thread! 😃
I don’t wanna be a pain or anything, but had to come back to this as Gd said it again in the bible. He actually says it over and over and over again. And since Jesus didn’t teach anything else but the same scriptures, how comes images and statues were allowed all of a sudden after he had deceased? If you were so nice to give me just one or two answers I’d apreciate it a lot.
 
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