Three Other Reasons to See Prince of Egypt: racially truthful, stealthily pro-life, realistic portrayal of sin
I admit, our family went to see The Prince of Egypt because of William Donahoe's recommendation. The Catholic League plugged the newly-released animated picture on the story of Moses in its newsletter as well as in an Internet message. So we joined my family at Christmas in a rare trip to the theater, along with my dad (who was going to see it because Chuck Colson had recommended it).

When we emerged from the theater, all of us agreed that there was more reason to like this film than the facts that a.) it was completely clean b.) and it was not by Disney.

I had been told of the technical perfection of the animation and special effects. This is true - the film is stylistically executed by DreamWorks with the perfection of any Disney movie. The parting of the Red Sea is spectacular. It has its share of chases, escapes, and comic moments, with strong female characters and funny animals. The story is simple to follow - so clear that my toddler son burst into tears when baby Moses had to leave his mommy to be adopted by a strange lady. I had expected all these things.

But I wasn't expecting any more than an exercise in clean filming of a token Biblical story to please the Christian market. Prince was more than that. Here's three reasons to go see the film that have nothing to do with the political battle over children's movies.

First, Prince is racially truthful. This is the first Biblical movie I have seen in which none of the characters - none - were Caucasian. Personally I am tired of depictions of our Biblical fathers and mothers that insist on giving them fair skin and sometimes blue eyes. Both the Hebrews and the Egyptians in Prince have the bone structure and skin color of their races, which I found refreshingly (not politically) correct. Aren't the Jews and Africans sometimes right when they accuse American Christians of making the Gospel into "a white man's story?" Certainly these are the images we usually give our children. Prince was a definite step in the right direction.

The filmmaker's choice to tap the heritage of the black community in using a music style inspired by Gospel spirituals was wise and effective. For its audience of children, it provided a further link between the Biblical characters and the African heritage. The Hebrew songs - particularly the children's hymn which heralds the day of Israel's freedom - were wonderful touches. My personal favorite was "Through Heaven's Eyes," the song of Jethro, Moses' future father-in-law, done in Arabian style.

Second, there was the undercurrent of a pro-life message. The catalyst of Moses' transformation from a selfish prince of Egypt who never looks twice at his servants to the deliverer of Israel is when he discovers that his "father," the Pharaoh, commanded the slaughter of the infant Hebrew boys. His father justifies this as population control: "the Hebrews were too numerous." Moses, who can't imagine being related to slaves, begins to feel compassion first for these countless baby victims, whom he narrowly escaped joining. A sense of the enormity of the crime is overwhelming in different parts of the film. While not explicit, a pro-life message comes through. The last line of the film "Deliver us!" became for me a personal prayer for an end to our nation's holocaust.

Third, the movie shows clearly the effects of the most deadly of sins - pride. This film underscores the fact that the bulk of the plagues upon Egypt were the result of one man's selfishness and unwillingness to change - the Pharaoh Rameses. What makes this moral tale so believable is that the film explores the character of the hard-hearted Pharaoh in his boyhood friendship with Moses. "Don't be the weak link in the chain," Rameses' father tells him, unfairly punishing him for things he didn't do. The fact that Moses truly loves his foster brother and has compassion for his internal struggle even as the two face off as adults raises the caliber of the storyline. Moses begs Pharaoh to yield for the sake of the Egyptians suffering from the plagues, but Rameses, tormented by the sores and pests of the plagues himself, remains bitter and unyielding. He has lost the ability to feel compassion for anyone else. When he announces that the slaughter of Hebrew children will begin again, he brings down the plague of the death of the first-born upon himself. Faced with unwittingly causing the death of his young son, he temporarily agrees to let the Hebrews go. The stark portrayal of the effects of mortal sin has probably never been rendered to this depth in cartoon form before.

Having seen the movie, I would nominate it for an Academy Award. And along with William Donahoe and other Christian leaders, I can now say that I certainly hope that the movie industry makes more movies like Prince of Egypt (how about a sequel?). If you go to see Prince of Egypt, you'll "send a message to Hollywood," but you and your family will enjoy yourself as well.

Passing along to others the concept of such an incredibly personal and delicate matter as the value of suffering can be extremely difficult. It's so easy to come across as heavy-handed, trite or condescending - and many materials do! Here is it presented a loving and very gentle way by means of Our Lady. Mary brought Christ to the world through her faith, love and humility and we are called to do the same. Here are a few quotes to give you the flavor of it:

Sometimes it may seem to us that there is no purpose in our lives, that going day after day for years to this office or that school or factory is nothing else but waste and weariness. But it may be that God has sent us there because but for us Christ would not be there. If our being there means that Christ is there, that alone makes it worthwhile. (pg. 60)

We must be swift to obey the winged impulses of His Love, carrying Him to wherever He longs to be; and those who recognise His presence will be stirred, like Elizabeth with new life. They will know His presence, not by any special beauty or power shown by us, but in the way that the bud knows the presence of the light, by an unfolding in themselves, a putting forth of their own beauty. It seems that this is Christ’s favourite way of being recognised, that He prefers to be known, not by His own human features, but by the quickening of His own life int he heart, which is the response to His coming. (pgs. 62-63)

If such is the beauty of the world to ordinary children, what must it have been to the Mother of God, when her whole being was folded upon the unborn Christ within her? He was completely her own, utterly dependent upon her: she was His food and warmth and rest, His shelter from the world, His shade in the Sun. She was the shrine of the Sacrament, the four walls and the roof of His home. Yet she must have longed to hold Him between her hands and to look into His human face and to see in it, in the face of God, a family likeness to herself Think of that! But perhaps you cannot, unless you happen to be a young priest newly ordained, waiting for the moment when you will hold in your hands the first Host that you have consecrated at your first Mass. … Each work of her hands prepared His hands a little more for the nails; each breath that she drew counted one more to His last. In giving life to Him she was giving Him death. All other children born must inevitably die; death belongs to fallen nature; the mother’s gift to the child is life. But Christ is life; death did not belong to Him. In fact, unless Mary would give Him death, He could not die. Unless she would give Him the capacity for suffering, He could not suffer. He could only feel cold and hunger and thirst if she gave Him her vulnerability to cold and hunger and thirst. He could not know the indifference of friends or treachery or the bitterness of being betrayed unless she gave Him a human mind and a human heart. That is what it meant to Mary to give human nature to God. He was invulnerable; He asked her for a body to be wounded. He was joy itself; He asked her to give Him tears. He was God; He asked her to make Him man. He asked for hands and feet to be nailed. He asked for flesh to be scourged. He asked for blood to be shed. He asked for a heart to be broken. (pgs. 72-73)

If Christ is formed of our lives, it means that He will suffer in us. Or, more truly, we will suffer in Him. “And He was made man.” Our Lady saw at once what was meant in her case: supernaturally, He was made herself. If He is made man in you, He will be made you; in me, me. It is extremely difficult to lay hold of this fact. It is very hard not to think of a kind of mystical Christ just beside us, or just in front of us, suffering with infinite patience and joy, being obedient, humble, persevering, fulfilling His Father’s will. It is really difficult to realise that if He is formed in our life we are not beside Him but in Him; and what He asks of us is to realise that it is actually in what we do that He wants to act and to suffer. (pgs. 76-77)

I read this on retreat about a month ago (a silent, Ignatian retreat and my first retreat in 20 years – it was wonderful!) because my spiritual director had recommended it and I loved how perfectly it tied into the talks on the spiritual exercises and the book I happened to be reading alongside it – Does Jesus Know Us? Do We Know Him? by Hans Urs Von Balthasar.

Bethlehem Books has just released the first in a set of three new board books on the Blessed Trinity. This first one is about God the Son and it's gorgeous! Each page has a lovely painting by early Renaissance artist Fra Angelico, illustrating a scene from the Life of Christ. The paintings are accompanied by short, rich text that speaks of who Jesus is. It's a very quick read, just a few lines per page, but thoughtfully put together and one that can be reflected on over and over again. The series description has some interesting things to say about the intentions of the publisher for this series:

The Teaching the Language of the Faith Series presents read-aloud books that foster reflective interaction between the child listener and the adult reader. Thoughtful religious art is chosen to interrelate with words pertinent to faith understanding. Each aspect extends the meaning of the other. As children gain a familiarity with words and images relevant to Christian truth, they are prepared to enter more fully and more personally into the beauty and mystery of the Christian faith.

An "Art and Text References" segment in back includes references to the Bible and the Catechism of the Catholic Church for each painting. These would be great for further discussion and family study. Kudos to Bethlehem Books for recognizing the great capacity of very young children for beauty and mystery! Note: Bethlehem Books has a free PDF page of suggestions for how to use this book with your child.