An extremely powerful article which helps to explain some of the parts of the movie...my poitn is still to read the Word rather than go see passion alone...the Word is more detailed than any other movie can ever deliver..but mediums to channel the gospel are ever-changing with times. Hencforth in this time, this medium is the best.
But still read the Word k, my dear bros & siss
Been Thinking About: Who Killed Christ?
(an article by RBC Ministries President Mart De Haan)
Could The Passion of the Christ stir up flames of ethnic hatred?
Some of our Jewish neighbors fear that Mel Gibson's film about the last hours of Christ will set the calendar back. Many remember the long history of anti-Semitism that surfaced in the writings of Church fathers, the Crusades, and the Holocaust.
Now as large numbers of people see Christ suffer in a powerful and graphic reenactment, a question surfaces. Will those angered by Christ's horrific abuse feel contempt for those whose ancestors asked for Jesus' death? Not if they listen carefully and take note of everyone who had a hand in His suffering.
The answer to who killed Christ is found not only in The Passion but also in the Gospel records. Even though a crowd of Jesus' countrymen cried out, "His blood be on us and on our children" (Matthew 27:25), Gibson's treatment shows that no group deserves to be singled out as Christ-killers. The whole picture includes a fallen angel, Jewish leaders, Gentiles, and even Jesus.
The record is compelling. First-century witnesses make it clear that Jesus had a leading role in His own death. Critics, however, have used that fact to accuse Him of insanity. In a 19th-century edition of The Freethinker magazine, G. W. Foote wrote, "Who killed Christ? Why himself. His brain gave way. He was demented. His conduct at Jerusalem was that of a maniac. His very language showed a loss of balance. Whipping the dove-sellers and money-changers, not out of the Temple, but out of its unsanctified precincts, was lunatic violence."
Foote goes on to say, "Quite in keeping with these displays of temper was the conduct of Jesus before Pilate. A modicum of common sense would have saved him. He was not required to tell a lie or renounce a conviction. All that was necessary to his release was to plead not guilty and defend himself against the charge of sedition. His death, therefore, was rather a suicide than a martyrdom . . . . As a man Jesus died because he had not the sense to live" (G.W. Foote, The Freethinker).
Jesus wasn't a victim. G. W. Foote says what biblical writers acknowledge--that the rabbi from Nazareth cooperated with those who hated Him. The record of Matthew indicates that Jesus warned His disciples on several occasions that He was going to suffer and die in Jerusalem (Matthew 16:21; 17:22-23; 20:17-19; 20:28). Even though He took action to avoid being killed before His mission was completed (John 7:1; 10:39; 17:1-4), the day came when Jesus refused to resist His accusers.
Interestingly, the accusation that Jesus wanted to die because He had lost His mind is not new. The apostle John quotes religious leaders as saying among themselves, "He has a demon and is mad. Why do you listen to Him?" (John 10:19-20). To that question someone answered, "Can a demon open the eyes of the blind?" (10:21). Just as significantly, does the Sermon on the Mount reflect an unstable mind? Not according to the millions who say they have found sobriety and sanity in the mind and heart of Christ.
Jewish leaders conspired to kill Jesus. Members of the Pharisees, Sadducees, and chief priests regarded Jesus as dangerous. Publicly they accused Him of blasphemy (John 5:18; 10:30-33). Privately they resented that He had won the hearts of so many. Even though they disagreed among themselves about many things, they found a common enemy in "the rabbi from nowhere." Together they were convinced that if they didn't silence Jesus He would disturb the fragile relationship with Rome and bring into question their own leadership. So with the help of one of Jesus' disciples, they hired false witnesses, had Jesus arrested, and petitioned civil authorities for His execution.
A Gentile signed the death order. A Roman bureaucrat named Pilate played a supporting role in Jesus' death. While admitting, "I find no fault in this man" (Luke 23:4), Pilate chose to protect himself rather than the innocent teacher who stood before him. Rather than risking his own political future, Pilate gave the official order to have Jesus executed (Matthew 27:24).
Gentile soldiers treated Jesus like a criminal. Roman executioners went beyond the requirements of their profession in torturing Jesus. They mocked Him with words of scorn, bruised Him with their fists, spit in His face, hit Him on the head, thrashed Him with barbed whips, pressed a crown of thorns into His head, and led Him through the streets like a public enemy (Matthew 27:27-31). At a place of execution, they drove nails through His hands and feet, lifted Him to ridicule and stood back to watch Him die.
We too were there. In one inexpressible moment, heaven and earth crashed head-on at the crossroads of time and eternity. In principle, all of us were there.
Dr. Peter Marshall wrote, "When we are honest with ourselves, we know that we were there too and that we helped to put Christ there. Because every attitude present on that hilltop that day is present with us now. Every emotion that tugged at human hearts then, tugs at human hearts still. Every human being was represented at Calvary, every sin was in a nail, or the spear, or the needle-like thorns, and pardon for them all was in the blood that was shed."
Will The Passion of Christ or the Bible itself renew feelings of ethnic contempt? Only if we refuse to see that we were there, and that love held our Savior to that tree, not the nails.
Will the big screen make our Lord's suffering bigger than life? Only if we forget that even the biggest pictures and most graphic portrayals can only begin to tell the story.
One for all. Father in heaven, forgive us for being so casual and mindless about the inexpressible suffering of Your Son for us. Please help us to live the rest of our lives in grateful praise for the One who said, "I am the good shepherd . . . . And I lay down My life for the sheep . . . . No one takes it from Me, but I lay it down of Myself. I have power to lay it down, and I have power to take it again" (John 10:14-18).
Since "Who Killed Christ?" is only one of the questions that will be raised by the release of The Passion of the Christ, we have set up a Web site to provide further information not only on the film but also on the history-changing events that inspired it. You may visit this Web site by href="http://www.gospelcom.net/rbc/thepassion/dd/">clicking here.
April 3, 2004
Just got home from Trengganu...very tired...lack of sleep...too much food...tink i over-ate at there...nothign much to do except to talk rot and eat...lolx...nice life style eh
*********************************************************
Failure is the opportunity to begin again, more intelligently. – Henry Ford
Henry Ford’s simplicity appears striking. Failure was never final to him, nor was it fatal. Like his contemporary, Thomas Edison, he expected failures on the way to success. It was all part of the learning process. He allowed failure to tutor him, then he continued on down the path that much smarter and wiser.
*********************************************************
Failure is the opportunity to begin again, more intelligently. – Henry Ford
Henry Ford’s simplicity appears striking. Failure was never final to him, nor was it fatal. Like his contemporary, Thomas Edison, he expected failures on the way to success. It was all part of the learning process. He allowed failure to tutor him, then he continued on down the path that much smarter and wiser.
March 30, 2004
This is an interesting article i took off STonline....very good read on how extreme is extreme
The pain of faith
Good Friday in the Philippine village of San Pedro Cutud is a religious - and bloody - affair
By Lester V. Ledesma
THE crackly, speaker-borne sounds of the 'Our Father' assault my ears as I step outside my parked car.
UNSPEAKABLE PAIN: Good Friday in the Philippine village of San Pedro Cutud is a religious -- and bloody -- affair.
It is Good Friday during the Catholic Holy Week, a time of fasting and prayer throughout the Philippines.
I have come all the way from Manila to the village of San Pedro Cutud in San Fernando, Pampanga, to witness the age-old Filipino rituals of self-mortification.
Believed to have been introduced by the Spanish friars in the 1600s, such practices have become common in this country, most notably in the Central Luzon and Southern Tagalog provinces.
Here in Cutud, they are the gory centrepieces of a bizarre tourist attraction, one that has drawn journalists, as well as 'cultural voyeurs', from all over the world.
8am: The sun is already high at mid-morning, the intense heat bearing down on me as I make my way to the village square.
At this time, the 'main event' is still a few hours away, foretold fittingly by a traditional via crucis - a solemn portrayal of the Stations Of The Cross.
I watch as the classic story of Christ's betrayal and death unfolds on the street, enacted by costumed villagers playing biblical roles.
Quotes from the scripture are uttered, followed by the continuous praying of the rosary. I get a glimpse of 'Jesus' in the midst of this holy gathering: He is wearing an immaculate robe, looking perfectly at ease despite the ongoing 'trial'.
On ordinary days, I am told, he earns a living as a tricycle driver.
True to tradition, the via crucis ends with the messiah's death on the cross. Salvation will come on the third day, of course. Until then, the people of Cutud are content to dwell on the sufferings he underwent.
10am: Even as the crowd dissipates, the flagellants begin to appear.
HELPING HAND: Doctors attend to those who need medical assistance after the ceremony.
They arrive in small groups, clad in little more than jeans and a headcloth.
On their hands are the burillos - long, thin whips made from bamboo and rope - the preferred tool of worship for this special occasion.
Their wielders range from teenagers, to middle-aged adults and a few seniors. None of them are female.
I talk to the flagellants about their peculiar form of devotion.
'I inherited this practice from my father,' one says to me behind the veil covering his face. 'When I was a child, he made a vow to perform the pagpapadugo (self-flagellation) for 20 years, in thanksgiving for a sickness I was cured of.'
'He died before he was able to complete his promise,' the lad adds. 'Now I feel it is my duty to finish what he started.'
For others, the ritual is a way to put Christ's ordeal in perspective.
'No matter how painful it may be, none of this compares to what Jesus had to endure for us,' explains another devotee.
Comforting as the thought may be for them, I can't help but cringe at the sight of the taktak - a wooden paddle that bristles with blades.
The flagellants use this to lacerate their backs, letting the blood flow freely as they start whipping themselves. In no time, the streets become filled with shirtless, faceless men, their wounded backs glistening with scarlet and sweat.
PAIN GAIN: The faces may be covered but the self-flagellation is very evident.
Some of them stand in front of the closed chapel (they are not welcome inside, as the Catholic church discourages self-mortification). Others walk on their knees, or simply lie flat on the ground as they get lashed.
Drops of blood fly in all directions, accompanied by the sharp, thwacking sound of burillos hitting flesh. I glance down at my shirt, now peppered with rust-coloured circles, and wipe the red-tinged perspiration from my brows. My lips taste of salt and copper.
Noon: 'Pontius Pilate' looks stately in his yellow robe as he steps onto an improvised stage. It is time for the literal version of the last act.
He talks forcefully to 'Jesus' and the audience, his hands waving dramatically as he asks the fateful question: 'Are you the king of the Jews?'.
Everyone knows the saviour's answer - and the grave consequences that follow. He is stripped of his robes and given a cross, and then led to the street by his 'Roman guards'.
'Mag-uumpisa na ang kalbaryo nila' (Tagalog for their calvary will now begin), whispers the man beside me. 'Christ' and his entourage walk slowly towards the flagellants, who make room for their object of devotion.
The procession begins. The scourging and the praying intensifies as the cortege makes its way through the streets of Cutud. It is a relentless march in the midday heat.
'Jesus' falls a few times, and is promptly picked up and handed back his cross. They march to a hilltop at the outskirts of the village, no doubt a perfect replica of Golgotha - 'the place of the skull' - save for the droves of vendors selling ice cream and soft drinks.
Kristo the tricycle driver, aka 'Jesus', lies down on his cross, exhausted, his ordeal not yet over. He is joined by two other devotees.
Their hands and feet are swabbed with alcohol, in preparation for much bigger wounds to come.
The crowd that has assembled watches as steel nails are driven into their palms. An eerie silence pervades the air, broken only by the sound of hammering.
Next come the nails on the feet. They seem to feel little pain. All three are hoisted up, completing this bizarre view of calvary. After a few minutes, they are brought down, to be replaced by nine other Kristos awaiting their turn.
By the fifth crucifixion, I decide I have seen enough. I walk away from the hill and take a quick breather under a nearby tent.
4pm: I drive home in a blood-spattered car, still wearing my soiled, bloodstained shirt. In few other countries will you find so much emphasis placed on Good Friday, I reflect. Where other Christians might look forward to Christ's resurrection on Easter Sunday, Filipinos choose to celebrate his suffering and death, comparing it with the trials of their everyday lives.
I spend the rest of the day in my own village, helping to push a carroza-borne Pieta during the evening procession.
Along with the crowd, we push the carriage, on which there is a sculpture of the Virgin Mary mourning over the body of Jesus, over a distance of 20km.
My sacrifice doesn't seem hard at all.
** The writer is an award-winning travel photojournalist based in Manila and Singapore.
The pain of faith
Good Friday in the Philippine village of San Pedro Cutud is a religious - and bloody - affair
By Lester V. Ledesma
THE crackly, speaker-borne sounds of the 'Our Father' assault my ears as I step outside my parked car.
UNSPEAKABLE PAIN: Good Friday in the Philippine village of San Pedro Cutud is a religious -- and bloody -- affair.
It is Good Friday during the Catholic Holy Week, a time of fasting and prayer throughout the Philippines.
I have come all the way from Manila to the village of San Pedro Cutud in San Fernando, Pampanga, to witness the age-old Filipino rituals of self-mortification.
Believed to have been introduced by the Spanish friars in the 1600s, such practices have become common in this country, most notably in the Central Luzon and Southern Tagalog provinces.
Here in Cutud, they are the gory centrepieces of a bizarre tourist attraction, one that has drawn journalists, as well as 'cultural voyeurs', from all over the world.
8am: The sun is already high at mid-morning, the intense heat bearing down on me as I make my way to the village square.
At this time, the 'main event' is still a few hours away, foretold fittingly by a traditional via crucis - a solemn portrayal of the Stations Of The Cross.
I watch as the classic story of Christ's betrayal and death unfolds on the street, enacted by costumed villagers playing biblical roles.
Quotes from the scripture are uttered, followed by the continuous praying of the rosary. I get a glimpse of 'Jesus' in the midst of this holy gathering: He is wearing an immaculate robe, looking perfectly at ease despite the ongoing 'trial'.
On ordinary days, I am told, he earns a living as a tricycle driver.
True to tradition, the via crucis ends with the messiah's death on the cross. Salvation will come on the third day, of course. Until then, the people of Cutud are content to dwell on the sufferings he underwent.
10am: Even as the crowd dissipates, the flagellants begin to appear.
HELPING HAND: Doctors attend to those who need medical assistance after the ceremony.
They arrive in small groups, clad in little more than jeans and a headcloth.
On their hands are the burillos - long, thin whips made from bamboo and rope - the preferred tool of worship for this special occasion.
Their wielders range from teenagers, to middle-aged adults and a few seniors. None of them are female.
I talk to the flagellants about their peculiar form of devotion.
'I inherited this practice from my father,' one says to me behind the veil covering his face. 'When I was a child, he made a vow to perform the pagpapadugo (self-flagellation) for 20 years, in thanksgiving for a sickness I was cured of.'
'He died before he was able to complete his promise,' the lad adds. 'Now I feel it is my duty to finish what he started.'
For others, the ritual is a way to put Christ's ordeal in perspective.
'No matter how painful it may be, none of this compares to what Jesus had to endure for us,' explains another devotee.
Comforting as the thought may be for them, I can't help but cringe at the sight of the taktak - a wooden paddle that bristles with blades.
The flagellants use this to lacerate their backs, letting the blood flow freely as they start whipping themselves. In no time, the streets become filled with shirtless, faceless men, their wounded backs glistening with scarlet and sweat.
PAIN GAIN: The faces may be covered but the self-flagellation is very evident.
Some of them stand in front of the closed chapel (they are not welcome inside, as the Catholic church discourages self-mortification). Others walk on their knees, or simply lie flat on the ground as they get lashed.
Drops of blood fly in all directions, accompanied by the sharp, thwacking sound of burillos hitting flesh. I glance down at my shirt, now peppered with rust-coloured circles, and wipe the red-tinged perspiration from my brows. My lips taste of salt and copper.
Noon: 'Pontius Pilate' looks stately in his yellow robe as he steps onto an improvised stage. It is time for the literal version of the last act.
He talks forcefully to 'Jesus' and the audience, his hands waving dramatically as he asks the fateful question: 'Are you the king of the Jews?'.
Everyone knows the saviour's answer - and the grave consequences that follow. He is stripped of his robes and given a cross, and then led to the street by his 'Roman guards'.
'Mag-uumpisa na ang kalbaryo nila' (Tagalog for their calvary will now begin), whispers the man beside me. 'Christ' and his entourage walk slowly towards the flagellants, who make room for their object of devotion.
The procession begins. The scourging and the praying intensifies as the cortege makes its way through the streets of Cutud. It is a relentless march in the midday heat.
'Jesus' falls a few times, and is promptly picked up and handed back his cross. They march to a hilltop at the outskirts of the village, no doubt a perfect replica of Golgotha - 'the place of the skull' - save for the droves of vendors selling ice cream and soft drinks.
Kristo the tricycle driver, aka 'Jesus', lies down on his cross, exhausted, his ordeal not yet over. He is joined by two other devotees.
Their hands and feet are swabbed with alcohol, in preparation for much bigger wounds to come.
The crowd that has assembled watches as steel nails are driven into their palms. An eerie silence pervades the air, broken only by the sound of hammering.
Next come the nails on the feet. They seem to feel little pain. All three are hoisted up, completing this bizarre view of calvary. After a few minutes, they are brought down, to be replaced by nine other Kristos awaiting their turn.
By the fifth crucifixion, I decide I have seen enough. I walk away from the hill and take a quick breather under a nearby tent.
4pm: I drive home in a blood-spattered car, still wearing my soiled, bloodstained shirt. In few other countries will you find so much emphasis placed on Good Friday, I reflect. Where other Christians might look forward to Christ's resurrection on Easter Sunday, Filipinos choose to celebrate his suffering and death, comparing it with the trials of their everyday lives.
I spend the rest of the day in my own village, helping to push a carroza-borne Pieta during the evening procession.
Along with the crowd, we push the carriage, on which there is a sculpture of the Virgin Mary mourning over the body of Jesus, over a distance of 20km.
My sacrifice doesn't seem hard at all.
** The writer is an award-winning travel photojournalist based in Manila and Singapore.
**Funny...heard of these b4 on radio...never knew of pple who keep track of these kinda stuff...hahahaha...swiped it off child's LJ**
Qn: Why is fish cunning ?
Ans: cos yu pian mi fen (fish lie to bee hoon)
------------
Qn: What animal falls down the most?
Ans: Fox, cos they jiao hua (cunning)
------------
Qn: What animal is most skillful?
Ans: mouse (lao shu) cos shu shu you lian guo (uncle got training)
------------
Qn: Xiao ming drinks milk to grow up, Da ming drinks what?
Ans: Da ming drink wine, cos Jiu Yang Da Ming
------------
Qn: Which chinese host does not have centre parting?
Ans: wu zong xian (no centre line)
------------
Qn: Why Zhou Jie Lun Cross the Street Kana fine by police?
Ans: Cos Jay Walking
------------
Qn:Which emperor (huang di) is blind??
Ans: Kang xi (Can't see)
------------
Qn: How does a fish laugh?
Ans: HE HE HE
------------
Qn: How does a prawn laugh?
Ans: HEI HEI HEI
------------
Qn: Which animal should you look for if you're unable to open a bottle cap?
Ans: peacock, cos kong que kai ping
------------
Qn: Why baby don't need to brush teeth?
Ans: cos bei bi wu chi
------------
Qn: Which button on your keyboard cannot sing?
Ans: F4
------------
Qns: Xiao Hong, Xiao Bai, Xiao Hei, Xiao Lan, Xiao Huang, who cannot tahan roller-coasters?
Ans: Xiao Bai, cos always Xiao Bai Tu
Qn: Why is fish cunning ?
Ans: cos yu pian mi fen (fish lie to bee hoon)
------------
Qn: What animal falls down the most?
Ans: Fox, cos they jiao hua (cunning)
------------
Qn: What animal is most skillful?
Ans: mouse (lao shu) cos shu shu you lian guo (uncle got training)
------------
Qn: Xiao ming drinks milk to grow up, Da ming drinks what?
Ans: Da ming drink wine, cos Jiu Yang Da Ming
------------
Qn: Which chinese host does not have centre parting?
Ans: wu zong xian (no centre line)
------------
Qn: Why Zhou Jie Lun Cross the Street Kana fine by police?
Ans: Cos Jay Walking
------------
Qn:Which emperor (huang di) is blind??
Ans: Kang xi (Can't see)
------------
Qn: How does a fish laugh?
Ans: HE HE HE
------------
Qn: How does a prawn laugh?
Ans: HEI HEI HEI
------------
Qn: Which animal should you look for if you're unable to open a bottle cap?
Ans: peacock, cos kong que kai ping
------------
Qn: Why baby don't need to brush teeth?
Ans: cos bei bi wu chi
------------
Qn: Which button on your keyboard cannot sing?
Ans: F4
------------
Qns: Xiao Hong, Xiao Bai, Xiao Hei, Xiao Lan, Xiao Huang, who cannot tahan roller-coasters?
Ans: Xiao Bai, cos always Xiao Bai Tu
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