When Faith Enters the Tomb

By Tyron Devotta

The Other Side of History — Part Three

This article discusses the ending of The Body (2001).

What would happen if an archaeological discovery appeared to contradict the belief around which you had built your life?

That is the disturbing question at the heart of The Body, starring Antonio Banderas as Father Matt Gutierrez, a Jesuit priest sent to Jerusalem to investigate a skeleton that might be the remains of Jesus Christ. The film eventually resolves its central mystery: the body is not Jesus’s. But that reassurance comes after the characters have confronted a possibility whose implications reach into faith, identity and the authority of religious institutions.

The ending closes the mystery. It cannot erase the questions raised along the way.

In the earlier articles in this series, I considered how imagined alternatives can deepen our engagement with history. The Body takes that exercise into particularly sensitive territory. Its question concerns an event that Christianity places at the centre of its understanding of salvation.

More than an empty tomb

For historic Christianity, the Resurrection means that Jesus truly rose from the dead. It cannot be reduced to the survival of his teachings or the comfort his followers found in remembering him. Catholic teaching describes his risen body as real, transformed and glorified: resurrection is more than a return to ordinary mortal life.[1]

Saint Paul states the stakes with striking directness: “if Christ has not been raised, your faith is futile” (1 Corinthians 15:17). His argument connects Christ’s Resurrection to forgiveness and the future resurrection of the dead. Remove it, and the Christian proclamation loses its foundation.[2]

Christianity makes a claim about something that happened, even while understanding its meaning through faith. That connection between event and belief gives the film its force.

If remains could genuinely be established as those of Jesus, the challenge to traditional Christian teaching would be profound. His ethical teachings could still command admiration. Communities formed in his name might continue to exist. But the claim that he conquered death through bodily resurrection would face a fundamental contradiction.

That is why the characters’ fear cannot be dismissed as anxiety about bad publicity. What appears endangered is their understanding of God’s promise, their hope for the dead and the meaning of their own lives.

The fear beneath the argument

A priest confronting such a possibility is also confronting his vocation. Years of prayer, sacrifice and counsel to grieving families suddenly stand beneath a question mark.

For an archaeologist, the pressures differ. Reporting evidence may seem a professional obligation, yet its possible consequences create an enormous moral burden. Can an investigator remain detached when others believe the findings threaten their deepest hope?

The film also invites us to distinguish personal belief from institutional interest. Protecting people from a mistaken conclusion can be a legitimate concern. Deciding in advance which conclusion an investigation must reach compromises the search itself.

This is my reading of the drama, rather than evidence about how the real Church would respond. Its invented circumstances expose a recognisable temptation: to confuse loyalty to truth with loyalty to those who claim to speak for it.

Doubt within faith

Christian scripture itself gives doubt a place in the story. Thomas asks for evidence of the wounds; other disciples struggle to comprehend the risen Jesus. The Catechism acknowledges their hesitation and unbelief.[1] Within the Christian account, Easter conviction emerges through an encounter that challenges their expectations.

This does not mean that every doubt automatically deepens belief. Doubt can wound, unsettle or lead someone away from a conviction. But the presence of a question does not by itself establish intellectual dishonesty or spiritual failure.

There is a difference between asking whether a belief is true and arranging an inquiry to ensure that it cannot be questioned. A believer can approach investigation with trust in God while recognising the fallibility of human judgments about evidence.

The film’s resolution removes the particular threat posed by the skeleton. It does not, by that act, supply independent proof of the Resurrection. Disproving one proposed identification and establishing the Christian claim are different tasks.

A possibility is not an identification

Here the academic discipline becomes essential.

A skeleton from the right region and approximate period, even with evidence of crucifixion, would not establish a person’s identity. An investigation would need to examine dating, burial context, disturbance of the site, the relationship between objects and remains, and competing explanations. A coin can help interpret a burial without acting as an identity card for its occupant.

We should therefore ask two separate questions. What would follow if these were Jesus’s remains? And what evidence could justify saying that they were?

The first explores consequences. The second tests the premise. Confusing them allows the emotional magnitude of a possibility to masquerade as evidence for its truth.

Drama can move quickly from resemblance to crisis. Scholarship must explain every step between them.

Why examine the alternative?

Strictly speaking, The Body offers a fictional discovery and a theological thought experiment. A counterfactual history would go further by changing an established event or condition and examining the consequences. These forms overlap in their use of imagination, but their claims differ.

Their academic value lies in making assumptions visible. Which proposition supports the larger argument? What would count against it? Could a different explanation account for the same evidence? Are we accepting a conclusion because it is well supported, or because abandoning it would be painful?

Such questions belong in political and national history as well. People inherit accounts of wars, leaders and communities that become part of who they are. Investigating those accounts can feel like disloyalty. Yet emotional attachment cannot settle a historical dispute.

Historians can examine texts, testimony and material evidence. Theology also asks about divine action and meaning. Those inquiries meet around Christianity’s historical claims, while using methods whose capabilities and limits deserve explicit recognition.

An alternative deserves consideration in proportion to its evidence and explanatory strength. Giving it a hearing does not make it equally probable.

Returning with better questions

This is relevant to my own undertaking in Day of the Sun God. Imagining another explanation for events surrounding the attack on Ceylon in 1942 should encourage attention to the historical circumstances. The imagined explanation must still stand as fiction.

The Body demonstrates how powerful that exercise can become when the uncertainty touches something sacred. Its characters must confront what they believe, why they believe it and what they fear losing.

For me, the value of asking “what if?” lies in that demand for honesty. We enter the alternative to examine the foundations of our understanding. We return better able to distinguish evidence, interpretation and hope.

The film clears the doubt surrounding its tomb. The responsibility to question carefully remains with us.

Edited with artificial intelligence.

Sources

• The Body (2001), written and directed by Jonas McCord. Film dialogue consulted through the transcript. The film’s fictional events are discussed as drama, not historical evidence.
• [1] Catechism of the Catholic Church, paragraphs 638–658, particularly 644–645: On the Third Day He Rose from the Dead.
• [2] 1 Corinthians 15, particularly verses 12–22.

Click here for Part 1 and Part 2