My readers are asked to bear with me, since I realise that this site is beginning to look like a massive advertisement for Amazon products. Those such as myself who concentrated on scholarly and artistic pursuits, and who delved into things Franciscan all of their lives (with a result not unlike that which I imagine Francesco encountered when he passed out Papa's priceless silks to beggars... one hint, and I don't mean the beggars fell to the ground in adoration of Francesco's Christlike qualities, ) can find that economic recessions - such as the one currently rampant, but which economists deny - leave little left for textbook purchases. My little Amazon commissions help to fill my shelves a bit and keep my mind stimulated, in the process keeping me from, let us say, writing dissertations on Beethoven's use of the augmented sixth chord in Suchandsuch symphony, which deep down we all know Beethoven undoubtedly did not have in mind.
For one such as myself, in whom the theological and aesthetic are inseparable, it probably is not strange that well presented theatre, books, and cinema based on scriptures, church history and the like are appealing. Pasolini's presentation of Jesus, based on the Gospel of Matthew, is generally accepted (by film historians) as the masterpiece of the sword and sandal epics. (Pasolini's beliefs or lack of same, or his politics, are issues that I'm not about to explore here.)
There are things that educated people, especially those with a background in the arts, just are not supposed to admit - but conventional I am not. Between us, I found Pasolini's film boring - not only because it was very stark but because, with the dialogue based entirely on the gospel of Matthew, there was no 'fleshing out' of the characters. I much prefer Franco Zeffirelli's brilliant Jesus of Nazareth
, though that one would be criticised for having extra scriptural material.(As long as this is 'true confessions time,' I'll add that I love Monty Python's Life of Brian - which did not spoof the gospels but was a superb treatment of the nonsense in many popular scriptural epics, Zeffirelli and Pasolini's work not being among them.)
The Jesus in Pasolini's film is rough, blunt, crude, and apparently the type to brook no nonsense. He seems easily irritated (as indeed I think I would be, with how much everyone pestered him and how even his disciples just didn't 'get' anything he taught.) It would be easy for the devout to dislike this characterisation, and I'll admit that the dignified, ascetic, brilliant, collected Jesus in Zeffirelli's version is more to my liking (even if it seems surreal that his intense blue eyes never blink.) Of course, I also dislike much of what passed for 'religious art' (and I don't mean Michelangelo) through the years (centuries...) I hate when Jesus looks like a bearded lady.
I periodically contribute meditations for a prayer network, structured around readings set for a particular Sunday Eucharist. It is a valuable exercise for me (and I hope beneficial to the readers), which involves perhaps twenty pages of notes on exegesis, another twenty of reflection following lectio divina, then a day's worth of editing to condense all of this into about 300 words and hope that a central point comes through. I cannot help but notice, when I go through the readings for any Sunday, that (though my own specialisation was in liturgy, so I love the new lectionary overall), the scripture scholars, however much they bore me with their M and Q source preoccupation, were quite correct in that the 'themes' in the readings as a whole have no exegetical connection. One of the reasons I so need to do extensive exegesis before I begin is to avoid becoming fanciful, or going off on tangents such as Augustine's treatment of the good Samaritan, in which he saw symbolism in everything from the wounds to the inn to the coins.
At it happens (and though I indeed may focus on Isaiah rather than Matthew in my meditation), the gospel for the particular Sunday is my least favourite - Matthew 15:21-28. It's the one where the Canaanite woman begs Jesus to cure her daughter, who is tormented by a demon. The disciples want her sent away, and Jesus, who has none of the aristocratic demeanour with which Zeffirelli would present his character (nor any of the Logos distinction I so love in John), comments that the children's food can't be thrown to the dogs.
All right... I know it ends with Jesus' commending the woman's faith. And I indeed am aware of recent scholarly work which contrasts the Church at Jerusalem (which Jesus' family headed for at least a generation, and was aimed at Jewish Christians) and the Gentile mission of the hot-headed Paul (who could deal with the consistent James better than with that other hot-head Peter.) I know something of Matthew's intended audience... But that line about the dogs, and further the beginning in which Jesus refuses to even answer the woman beseeching him to help her daughter, gets my back up.
I shall concede that, though Pasolini does not show us a polished upper class Jesus of Nazareth (King of Kings, but no aristocrat), his presentation matches the gospel of Matthew extremely well. If one watched the film with the scriptures in front of one (with no distractions from the Missa Luba), one would have to admit that the Jesus in the Pasolini film resembles the version in Matthew aptly.
So, to end this disjointed little post with a little hint of self knowledge, I think there just might be a reason I prefer John to Matthew and Zeffirelli to Pasolini. :) Matthew and Pasolini show us a Jesus of Nazareth who is a... blunt, irritable, wise but brief, compassionate but brooking no nonsense... Mediterranean peasant. Grinning I shall add - deep down, I think that I myself don't care to wear that shoe even though it does fit very well!
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