Mel Gibson, Feminist

Reprinted with permission of National Review.

Mel Gibson might be my favorite feminist. If he's not number one on my list, he's pretty close, in competition with Pope John Paul II.

As you probably suspect, I don't have in mind the usual definition of "feminism." I can guarantee you there'll be no fawning Ms. magazine cover story on Gibson (or JPII).

But give me a few minutes to fawn a little.

I, like others, have now seen an in-progress version of Gibson's remarkable film. There is so much to be said and that will be said about the movie. Folks who get turned off by nonsensical talk that it is anti-Semitic will miss an unparalleled movie experience. But what they'll also miss is Mel Gibson, the feminist.

If you want to understand-and celebrate-women, Gibson's Passion of Christ, which will be released Ash Wednesday, is a good place to turn. Consider, for example, a scene that has Mary standing on the sidelines after walking a little bit away from the place where her son is being brutally beaten. She's getting beyond the point of being able to take the unbearable pain, but she is slowly gathering her strength, her faith-and is even able to comfort Mary Magdalene, a friend.

Lending a hand of friendship to Christ's mother is a very unlikely sister: Claudia, the wife of Pontius Pilate. Claudia isn't happy with her husband's general situation, and she's not keen on his putting Jesus of Nazareth to death. We know what Pilate chooses in the end, but Claudia does her darnedest to guide him. She is a decent character, who bears her own crosses and evinces nobility throughout. When Mary is at one her hardest moments, it is Claudia who walks over and hands towels to her, which she soon uses to wipe up the precious blood of her son.

Mary feels pain acutely. Mother and son help one another. In another poignant scene, she is starting to lose it again, standing in an alleyway, not knowing if she can do anything for her son. At this point, there's a beautiful flashback to Christ's childhood, in which he falls down and his mother does what is only natural: She runs to him. The movie flashes forward again as Mary does likewise, running to her 33-year-old son. With the gentlest touch, Jesus gives his mother strength, even though he's a bloody mess in indescribable pain-all of which he bears with the kind of grace only divinity can provide.

I don't think many self-described feminists would agree, but there is something unique about women, and Gibson's movie captures it perfectly in Mary, Mary Magdalene, Veronica (who voluntarily wipes Christ's face along his arduous road to Calvary), and Claudia. He shows a real understanding of the depth of women's feeling and the unique role that follows from it: that of giving support and guidance. This understanding of femininity cannot be missed-and should be noted and valued. It's something the likes of a Susan B. Anthony understood, though modern-day feminists would rather we forget it.

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