I watched The Passion last night. My youth group rented out, and filled, two screenings.

There’s been any number of reviews, so I won’t add yet another. But the review in First Things has it right: “it certainly is the best movie ever made about Jesus Christ.�

But even after all I had read about the movie, I was surprised at the response of the audience, including me. I expected lots of crying, loud crying. I expected to cry. But I didn’t. And I heard almost no audible crying. I thought at least the teenage girls would be wailing, but no. The most noticeable response? Silence.

As the lights went up in the theater after the movie and almost everyone was leaving, I looked around to see if there was someone I should go talk to. (I’m one of the leaders for the youth group.) Up in the back row, I saw three guys still sitting, all football player types. The oldest of them had his head in his hands. I walked up and sat with them. They weren’t saying a word, and I wasn’t either. Two of them eventually left, leaving the oldest, a high school Senior I’ve known since he was in 4th grade.

He was clearly deeply moved, pained. I sat there quiet with him. I didn’t want to interrupt his thoughts. I felt it best to just be there for him.

We were there a while after all the others had left. After the cleaning crew came in, we finally got up and slowly walked out. Still, neither of us said a word. Finally, in the lobby, I simply invited him to get ahold of me if he wanted to talk sometime. And that was all we said the whole time.

The Passion makes words woefully inadequate. Afterwards, although the devotion of my heart is strengthened, the words of my prayers are weak. They have always been weak, of course. Now the depths of His Passion expose my frail words as nothing else can. We do not know how to pray… What can one say in light of what Christ willingly went through for us?

What language shall I borrow to thank Thee, dearest friend?. . .
O Sacred Head, Now Wounded
Bernard of Clairvaux, 1153