Claudia Procles

I spent Easter Sunday with my family and had a great time. As part of the holiday, we decided to watch The Passion of the Christ, which my parents had purchased on DVD. This was the second time I had seen the movie, and at first, I wasn’t even sure that I was glad to be watching it again. When the film was released last year, I waited a couple of months before making my way to the theaters to see it. I guess I was just trying to not be a part of the hype. But eventually I did want to see this tribute to my Hero. Then after finding out first hand that it was as gruesome, bloody, and intense as the reviews had said – I wasn’t sure that I wanted to put myself through it again.

I’m glad I did. I felt a little more free to glance away from the screen at the most graphic parts, and I even shielded my eyes completely at the one moment that was the worst for me. That, and the fact that I already knew what to expect, helped my stomach not to churn so much. And without my mind so numbed with emotional overload, I found that I was able to get more out of the movie…

The first thing, which I was afraid when I realized it, was that I could identify with those pharisees. I mean, I’ve got a pretty well rooted interpretation of scripture. So if Jesus came as an American today, saying the kinds of radical things that Jesus said back then, would I be a disciple or a pharisee? Jesus said some totally off-the-wall kind of stuff like, “Eat my flesh and drink my blood and you’ll live forever!” I mean, that’s not a direct quote or anything, but that’s how the pharisees heard it. And if some crazy dude showed up today saying stuff like that, wouldn’t I want to get rid of him so that he’d stop leading all my honest, well-meaning, but ignorant Christian brothers and sisters astray? I can only pray that God would help me to recognize his truth when I saw it. Like the disciples weren’t exactly a group of outstanding men, but somehow when Jesus called them, they saw that he was the real deal. I think it’s only God’s grace that could make me a disciple instead of a pharisee.

But some of the pharisees were painted as pretty diabolical, so I didn’t fully identify with them. I don’t think I could be so conniving and ruthless. So I spent a great deal of the movie trying to figure out who I did identify with the most and what my part in the story might have been. I suppose many Christians might try to identify with Jesus in the spirit of martyrdom, but Jesus’ outstanding character and wisdom is out of my reach. Peter is too impulsive, and that’s not like me. I’d like to think I could be James, but nothing he did in the film really resonated with me, and the same with Mary Magdalene. As I thought about it, I felt like I didn’t fit in any of those kinds of parts of the story because I’m a gentile, not a Jew. I feel like I’ve been adopted into God’s family by faith, but my culture is actually European. Pilate, and Abeneder (the general), and one of the soldiers in particular were all Romans in the movie who realized that Jesus was special. I could almost identify with them, except they didn’t do anything.

But finally, I found my part of the story when Claudia Procles brought the linens to Mary. Claudia Procles was Pilate’s wife. She knew that Jesus was holy, but it seemed she couldn’t help everyone understand it. She knew she had a part in the story, but wasn’t sure what it was. So she did what she could. I think she must have been sad, feeling like she couldn’t make any significant difference except to a couple people, and even at that it was only an expression of a desire to do more.

I also identified with the fact that she did what she did with cultural sensitivity. It’s a Jewish belief that when a body is buried every part of the body must be buried. I learned this a while ago while watching a documentary about terrorism in Jerusalem. Did you know that there is today a special organization called ZAKA which assists medical personnel at bombing or shooting sites by collecting all the blood and body parts for burial? So Claudia Procles knew that for Mary and Mary Magdalene it was important to collect the blood that Jesus spilled not just to clean up the scene, but to prepare for a proper burial.

She didn’t happen to live by that belief, but she felt that it was the best way that she, as an outsider, could express her desire to be a significant part of the story. She wanted to do something significant for them, in their language. I think what she did, as documented in extra-biblical sources, shows her acceptance of the sacrifice, respect for culture, and a desire to be someone who could do more.

Whew! Now that I’m all choked up… those are my musings this Easter. Who are you in the story?