Is Mel Gibson’s ‘The Passion of the Christ’ antisemitic?
Is Mel Gibson’s ‘The Passion of the Christ’ antisemitic?

Nearly 20 years have passed since Mel Gibson’s groundbreaking movie “The Passion of the Christ” debuted. It garnered massive success upon its release in theaters but also incited waves of controversy, and it remains a divisive film to this day. Two specific issues particularly prevent viewers from engaging with the movie: the claim that it’s exceedingly violent, and the allegation that it’s antisemitic.
I would like to begin by stating that I am a Catholic who values my Jewish heritage, and because of this, I regard antisemitism — particularly that which occurs among Catholics — with utmost seriousness, feeling a specific responsibility to address it. Additionally, I typically avoid violent films. I consider them unpleasant, and I believe they can dull the moral sense and promote a lack of respect for human dignity.
I hadn’t intended to view this film. However, individuals whom I respected spoke of it so favorably that I ultimately decided to watch it with considerable apprehension, curious if the claims were valid. Since then, I have seen it multiple times. Here is my opinion on it.
I didn’t witness any brutality that existed merely to display violence. It was a challenging experience to observe, and that was intended.
Is it gratuitously violent?
Inherently, no. Undoubtedly, a portion of the audience enjoyed the cruel violence and vivid bloodshed it depicts, and certainly this element is why certain individuals are so fond of it; however, I’m also fairly certain that some came for the bloodshed and encountered more than they anticipated. Yet, I don’t believe the violence served merely as a lure to deceive gore-loving viewers into an enlightening film. It serves as a means to convey just how incomprehensibly shocking the crucifixion, the killing of God, truly was.
Gibson is certainly not the initial to depict the passion and death of Jesus in grotesquely heightened terms, as even if we struggle to comprehend the spiritual terror of the event, we can still experience the physical dread and build upon that. While it’s not essential to portray the crucifixion in such a vivid manner, it isn’t unjustifiable or inherently unsuitable; plus, it serves a function beyond merely satisfying the audience’s thirst for violence.
For example: Following the infamous endless whipping scene, there is a breathtaking overhead shot of Jesus’ blood spread across the courtyard. An unimaginable volume of blood. Pilate’s spouse emerges with a bundle of clean cloths and nervously presents them to Mary and Mary Magdalene, as the two descend onto their knees and start to meticulously soak up every single drop. An unfeasible endeavor. That moment has led to a lasting shift in my perspective, altering the phrase “precious blood” from a devout platitude into a core truth that reshaped my approach to the Eucharist.
The brutality might be excessive for numerous viewers. However, I did not observe any aggression that existed solely for the purpose of depicting violence. It was challenging to watch, and that was intended.
Is the film anti-Semitic?
Yes and no. Primarily, heaven assist me, no.
Mel Gibson, in spite of his denials, does appear to personally be an antisemite. He declined to meet with the ADL over the film, basically saying: Look, I hope you get over this not-being-Catholic thing someday. However, that’s not the point of contention. I strive, when feasible, to evaluate artworks based on their individual value, rather than critiquing the authenticity of the creator’s intentions. Here’s what is genuinely present in the film:
The majority of claims regarding antisemitism in the film appear to fit into two categories: Aspects that were likely deliberate, yet which the typical viewer (like myself) might overlook; and elements that can be understood based on your personal biases.
In the initial category, deliberate yet easy to overlook, comprises elements such as the inscription on the crucifix. Sister Rose Pacatte at NCR says:
It is clear that Gibson was deliberately opting to dismiss and undermine Judaism when we observe the inscription on the cross. “Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews” appears only in ecclesiastical Latin and Aramaic. He deliberately excludes Greek, as outlined in John 19:20, and Greek was the prevalent language of the Roman Empire during that period. Therefore, as noted by Adlerstein, Gibson establishes “a tension between Aramaic/Hebrew; he does not forge a link but breaks it.”
and
One [observer] noted the tear that dropped from the cross and the tremor, which is important since the moment illustrates the ruin of the temple during Jesus’ passing, although the devastation did not occur until A.D. 70. As per Gomez, this moment signifies a “replacement theology,” reinforcing the erroneous medieval belief that Christianity (Ecclesia) has substituted Judaism (Synagoga). The damage evident in the temple reflects the fragmentation of Synagoga. In other terms, it’s a “slight” at Judaism that seems unlikely to be mere coincidence.
I simply didn’t observe the historical inconsistencies, so if these elements were efforts at antisemitism — or at the very least, efforts to provoke antisemitism in the audience — they were unsuccessful.
Another illustration is how, following a backlash, Gibson agreed to cut a “blood libel” scene in which the clergy proclaim, “His blood be upon us and upon our descendants”; yet instead, he simply eliminated the subtitles, preserving the scene as it is, though in Aramaic. These are phrases that numerous individuals have employed to label the whole Jewish community as Christ murderers. However, the overwhelming majority of audiences do not understand Aramaic, rendering the scene incomprehensible. As a tool for antisemitism, it’s a loaded weapon, but it stays secured.
It’s difficult to contest that Gibson depicts the Jews through derogatory stereotypes, and represents the apostles as a kind of “high Jews” or “white Jews” by illustrating them as distinct from the rest.
However … the Jewish people who executed Jesus were the villains, and those who remained loyal to him did create a distinction between themselves. I understand the dangers of feeding stereotypes, but how can a filmmaker depict malevolence without indicating to the audience that it is malevolent? You let me know. The High Priests were focused primarily on maintaining authority; Judas did betray Jesus for wealth; the Jews who demanded Jesus’ death did diminish their beliefs to a series of ceremonial practices that were jeopardized by his new decree. These wrongdoings depicted are what Jesus came to eliminate. To decline to portray them would be to decline to represent what truly occurred. There’s not much complexity in character among the Jews who sentenced Jesus because it’s not that kind of film. The heroes don’t exhibit much complexity, either.
It is likewise difficult to argue that the film solely holds the Jews responsible for Jesus’ suffering, when the evident sadistic pleasure showcased is distinctly a Roman characteristic.
The real question
The question is, does the film suggest “These men committed wrongdoing” or “These Jews did malevolent Jewish acts”? This is why I argue it hinges on what you bring to the film. If you hold antisemitic beliefs and seek to understand why Jesus was crucified, you’ll interpret it as the Jews killed him because Jews are inherently bad. If you are not antisemitic and wish to discern why Jesus had to be sacrificed, you’ll recognize the type of individuals who turned against Jesus: Those who seek power. Those who pursue wealth. Those who prioritize order over honesty. Those who exhibit cowardice. Those who display cruelty.
While Mel Gibson and his friends might be claiming, “This is how Jews are,” I don’t believe that’s the message of the film unless you are intentionally seeking to interpret it that way. The same applies to the Gospels themselves. A superficial reading of the Gospels might lead you to conclude they depict a narrative about the Jews betraying Christ. Many have indeed approached the Gospels from this perspective! However, if you engage with the Gospels sincerely, you’ll realize it’s a narrative reflecting how we all betray Christ. That is the insight I gained while watching this film.
Thus, the film provides you with what you are prepared to take away from it. It would be simple to view the film today and identify, for example, the College of Cardinals within the throng of avaricious, self-important, cruel high priests ready to offer an innocent soul to preserve their dominance.
It’s likewise difficult to argue that the film solely attributes blame to the Jews for Jesus’ torment, as the evident delight in cruelty is unmistakably a Roman characteristic. When Caiphas observes the flogging, he grimaces and looks away.
Nevertheless, it’s oddly sympathetic towards Pontius Pilate, which disturbs me greatly. Pilate is an educated individual placed in a contentious and insignificant region, and he has Jesus subjected to torture and executed with significant reluctance, in order to appease the crowd. That’s what the Gospel conveys, up to a point. However, the film introduces a moment where Pilate essentially tells Jesus, “Honestly, I feel terrible about this,” and Jesus essentially responds, “Look, I know the company you keep. Don’t fret about it.” That moment is indefensible, and underscores the strongest argument that the film is antisemitic.
It not only conveys a constructive message that we ought to endorse; it is also a remarkable piece of art, and for this reason, it can be significantly impactful on a spiritual level.
Given these problems, what’s the reason to view it?
It’s incredibly fascinating. So bizarre and audacious, yet somehow never overbearing. Are you aware of how challenging it is to create a film featuring a sequence like the scourging scene and have the audience recall other moments apart from that one? Yet I can.
Gibson never opts for the simple route in any moment. It’s an extended film, yet the tempo is excellent (the sequences that seem lengthy are intended to feel prolonged). Herod is insane., and strange, and sorrowful. Judas’ transformation is truly frightening. Veronica is incredibly captivating. The scene with Simon of Cyrene is intense. Satan will send chills down your spine. Some individuals believe it was merely inserted for a creepy atmosphere, but Steve Greydanus says in his “first impressions” Certainly! Please provide the text you would like me to rewrite.
At specific moments, this androgynous entity is illustrated in contrast to the Virgin Mary — although never more strikingly than in front of the pillar, where there exists a sort of anti-Marian imagery that I will not detail, except to mention that it is so strange and grotesque, yet ultimately trivial, that it appears to originate directly from hell.
That works for me. I’ve never encountered a portrayal of Satan that is more effective.
Shooting it in different languages was genius. Genius.. When you have been a Christian for an extended period, it becomes quite challenging to perceive the well-known phrases of the Gospel in a fresh way. Additionally, it can be quite tricky to determine what tone you ought to adopt while portraying Jesus! The answer? Express it in terminology that nearly nobody comprehends, and allow subtitles, with their added psychological distance, to weave their spell. Alternatively, simply allow the imagery to convey the message on its own.
The standout is definitely Mary. Her expression and the manner in which she presents herself, along with the way people continually turn to her for assistance. This portrayal of Mary was a significant eye-opener for me, revealing a warmth and fortitude that is often absent from… well, the majority of representations of Mary in any form of art. When Jesus is incarcerated and she seeks him out, you feel a deep sense of relief that they are there for one another.
And then there’s the Resurrection moment. (I had a small chuckle to myself when IMDB locked away a plot summary that detailed this moment, cautioning that it contained a spoiler. Boo!) It’s not cheesy. It’s not dull. It’s magnificent, and frightening, and it vindicates all that you have suffered through during the remainder of the film.
Do you have to watch this film? Certainly not.
There isn’t a film featuring a Catholic. must look. If we do not need to have faith in Fátima, aren’t obligated to recite the Rosary, and are not even expected to be literate to be devoted Catholics with an authentic connection to God, then we can surely find our path to heaven without having viewed “The Passion of the Christ.” Movies are just movies, and you are not required to provide any specific justification to excuse yourself from visiting them.
However, “The Passion” stands apart from other films that Catholics often pressure one another to view. It not only conveys a meaningful message that we ought to endorse; it is also a remarkable piece of art, which makes it potentially very impactful on a spiritual level. Excellent for Lent; ideal for a Lenten retreat.
If you plan to present it to others, understand your audience. As mentioned previously, it might incite antisemitism in those prone to such views. However, it does not inherently convey that message; it has the potential to genuinely promote authentic spiritual development.
It’s not intended for children, for heaven’s sake. It’s not meant for those who can’t handle intense films. Don’t make anyone view it. However, if you can endure some violence, and if you are eager to connect more deeply with a narrative that has grown tired through repetition, then don’t let the thought that this film is merely torture porn or propaganda dissuade you. It is a challenge, but a valuable one; and as a piece of art, it’s excellent.
Author’s Note: For more information and analysis of the issues with portrayals of Judaism in the movie, I recommend another essay by Greyandus in which he compares the movie to Jesus of Nazareth.
Simcha Fisher is an award-winning columnist who regularly contributes to America Magazine, Parable Magazine and The Catholic Weekly. She lives with her husband and eight of their 10 children and several animals in a surprisingly small house in New Hampshire.