Super Spuds

I’ve always been slightly amused by funny looking words, especially funny looking foreign words.

This past week I was rifling through a tome that I’m fairly certain most have not heard of…Walter Bauer’s Das Leben Jesu im Zeitalter der neutestamentlichen Apokryphen…titillating, right?

Anyway, the fifth chapter of the second part of the book (confusing, I know) is entitled “Jesus als Wundertäter.” I will leave it up to you to Google Translate that, but in the meantime I leave you with a few images that are more or less what popped into my head when I first read that Jesus was a “Wundertäter.”

First, a group of “Wundertäters”:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Second, one of my favorite “Wundertäters”:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And of course, the ultimate “Wundertäter”

Unreading Narrative

Lately I have been asked by more than a few people to explain, in plain terms, what precisely my dissertation is about. The exercise is a good one, yet difficult.

The object of my study is the Protevangelium of James, an “infancy gospel” that was likely composed in the second half of the second century (150-200). It tells the story of Mary’s birth, her betrothal to Joseph and the birth of Christ, among other things. The text was banned in the West, presumably because certain aspects of it were deemed heretical (or something along those lines).

My approach to the text is one that examines its relationship to the New Testament. Many in the past have noted the ways in which the Protevangelium uses material from the infancy narratives of Matthew and Luke to tell its story. My interest in the text is in the ways that it changes one’s reading of the New Testament. This is where I end up having to explain myself.

At the heart of my project is the notion that it is difficult to “unread” something once you have read it. In the age of Gmail, “unreading” is simple enough. You read something, and then you click “unread.” This is not exactly what I have in mind, however. I’m certain that at some point in your life you have had someone perform the following “experiment” on you: you are told that, for the next minute, you may think of anything that you like, as long as you don’t think about an elephant. When faced with this exercise, most will have difficulty thinking of anything but an elephant. Even when you think of “not an elephant,” you are thinking of an elephant. Perhaps this is a strange example, but it is fitting nonetheless.

I first read the Protevangelium in the Spring of 2010. Like many, I was fascinated by the story. Despite its simplicity, or perhaps because of its simplicity, something about it stuck with me. Shortly after I had read the text, Ellen and I decided to start reading the Bible together a couple of times a week (cute, right?). We started with Luke, and we took turns reading the gospel aloud, one paragraph at a time. To her amusement dismay, I started saying things like, “Well you know, in this text I just read, this actually means that.” Or, “Hey, in this text I just read, there is a character named X and they do Y.” I remember thinking to myself how silly this was, as Luke was much older than the Protevangelium. What use could this newer text be to interpreting the older? The answer, of course, is complicated, and my dissertation is an attempt to answer it.

This example serves to illustrate the idea that it is difficult to unread that which you have read. Narratives have a way of sticking with us and altering the way that we perceive reality (and texts, for that matter). Even those narratives that we try to “unread” crop up from time to time when they are triggered by various elements we encounter. So, one who reads the canonical gospels after having read and internalized the Protevangelium will see certain things that the evangelists themselves  may not intended or foreseen. The goal of my dissertation is to articulate what such reading might look like.

Cheers.

R. S. Thomas – Pietà

Always the same hills

Crowd the horizon,

Remote witnesses

Of the still scene.

And in the foreground

The tall Cross,

Sombre, untenanted,

Aches for the Body

That is back in the cradle

Of a maid’s arms.

Stigmata and Christian Apocryphal Literature

I spent the majority of yesterday composing a written statement for a fellowship application. Part of this process involved reflecting on the past 10 years of my life – where I’ve been, what I’ve done, what I’ve studied, and how all of those things have contributed to my present research interests. Self-reflection can be fun, and it forces you to remember things that you’ve long since forgotten.

As I was trying to come up with an answer regarding why I chose to study Christian apocryphal literature, I decided it might be helpful to think about the first time I even heard about Christian apocryphal literature. The answer, which I did not include in my written statement (because it’s stupid), made me chuckle.

During my senior year of high school, I watched a movie called Stigmata. It had just been released. The movie tells the story of a young woman who becomes possessed by the spirit of a dead stigmatic priest. The young woman receives the stigmata, speaks in foreign tongues, and leads an investigator from the Vatican on a wild goose chase to find a lost gospel that the Church was attempting to suppress. The “lost gospel” in Stigmata is none other than the Gospel of Thomas, discovered at Nag Hammadi in 1945. At one point in the movie, a priest describes it as “an Aramaic scroll from the 1st century, discovered near the cave of the dead sea scrolls outside Jerusalem. Alameida [the dead stigmatic priest] and I concluded that it is a gospel of Jesus Christ. In his own words: Aramaic.” At the end of the movie, the following text pops up: “In 1945 a scroll was discovered in Nag Hammadi, which is described as ‘the secret sayings of the living Jesus.’ This scroll, the Gospel of St. Thomas, has been claimed by scholars around the world to be the closest record we have of the words of the historical Jesus.”

In retrospect, it’s not a good movie, but my young mind was absolutely enthralled at the time. I remember talking with a friend of mine afterward about how something needs to be done about the Church’s attempts to suppress truth like this…we were both really concerned.

I chuckled to myself as I recalled this experience, as it truly is the first time I became aware that there were “gospels” outside of the New Testament. Like many uninformed viewers of the movie, I assumed in my ignorance that what Stigmata claimed about the Gospel of Thomas was true, and I continued to assume that it was true until I heard otherwise (and I seem to recall embarrassing myself in an undergraduate NT course). Of course, there is little truth in what Stigmata claims about Thomas: it is a codex, not a scroll; it is written in Coptic, not Aramaic; it is from the second century, not the first; it was not found near the Dead Sea (Nag Hammadi is over 200 miles removed); some scholars (you know who you are) consider it to be “the closest record we have of the words of the historical Jesus,” but they are a minority. What’s more, the Dead Sea Scrolls were not isolated to one cave, but were spread out among among eleven!

I suppose this memory is useful, if only to remind us about how much garbage there is floating around about the “lost gospels.”

Anyway, hope you enjoyed my rant for the day.

Urban Dictionary Defines Christianity

I love Urban Dictionary for so many reasons. How could you not love an online dictionary that allows anyone with a computer to determine the meaning of language?

I sometimes find myself looking up random words for a good laugh. Today, I looked up “Christianity.” Here is what I found:

The belief that a cosmic Jewish Zombie who was his own father can make you live forever if you symbolically eat his flesh and telepathically tell him you accept him as your master, so he can remove an evil force from your soul that is present in humanity because a rib-woman was convinced by a talking snake to eat from a magical tree.

If you think about it, the definition is certainly snarky, but not completely off.

Lamb: The Gospel According to Biff

My interest in Christian Apocrypha has lately encouraged me to start reading more recent lives of Jesus. My most recent conquest has been Christopher Moore’s Lamb: The Gospel According to Biff, Christ’s Childhood Pal. Without revealing too much, here is a brief review.

This book came out shortly before I entered seminary in 2003, and I now regret not having read it sooner. In the beginning of the book, Biff, Jesus’ childhood friend and later disciple, is resurrected by an angel in order to write a new gospel. The majority of the plot centers around Jesus (called Joshua) and Biff as they wander about in the first-century. Jesus is aware from a young age that he is in fact the messiah, but he is not sure exactly what being a messiah entails. At the advice of his mother, Jesus and Biff head out on the road when they’re 12 or so to find the three men (Balthasar, Melchior and Gaspar) who came to visit Jesus at his birth. They make it all the way to China, and they spend several years learning various skills and arts from each magus. They return to Galilee when they’re about 30, and then Jesus begins his ministry.

Biff is really quite the character. Along with the rest of the disciples, he doesn’t really seem to “get” what sort of messiah Jesus is claiming to be. He provides much comic relief at various points in the book, and I suppose it is worth mentioning that those who offend easily may take issue with his occasional crude sexual comments and pursuits. He is in love with Jesus’ mother (as are others in the book), and at one point he claims to have invented the pencil. He spends a good part of the first half of the book tantalizing the angel that is watching over him. Consequently, the angel is also quite the character…he is stupid, watches soap operas, and refers to the Soap Opera Digest as “the prophecies.”

It is clear from this book that Moore has done his homework. He effectively weaves together material from the canonical gospels, fairly recent scholarship, other first century texts as well as his own imagination. There are certainly aspects of the plot that don’t fit with the first-century milieu, but Moore acknowledges as much in the Epilogue. Also, Moore does take up the whole “Jesus travelled to the East and learned everything he knew from Buddhists and Hindus” theme and runs with it. Some are persuaded by this thesis…I have always found it somewhat fishy…nevertheless, it provides for an excellent story in this case!

In my opinion, this book represents a nice balance between humor and reverence…often, it seems, authors feel as if they are forced to choose one over the other, especially when their topic is as sensitive as this. In Lamb, however, Moore is able to present a quite moving passion narrative, while at the same time allowing for his Jesus to say of his disciples, “Those are the dumbest sons of bitches on earth.”

Epiphany, 2011

Today the Magi find crying in a manger the one they have followed as he shone in the sky. Today the Magi see clearly, in swaddling clothes, the one they have long awaited as he lay hidden among the stars.

Today the Magi gaze in deep wonder at what they see: heaven on earth, earth in heaven, man in God, God in man, one whom the whole universe cannot contain now enclosed in a tiny body. As they look, they believe and do not question, as their symbolic gifts bear witness: incense for God, gold for a king, myrrh for one who is to die.

– Peter Chrysologus, Sermon 160, PL 52:620-62.

* image – The Epiphany, Giotto Di Bondone

The Mystery of the Incarnation (a video)

Scholars and theologians agree that this is likely what the birth of Jesus looked like:

There’s Something About Mary, Part 3

In the first post of this series, I gave a summary of the four Catholic dogmas concerning Mary. In this post, a New Testament witness to Mary’s role in the Incarnation, specifically that of Luke. Among the Synoptic Gospels, the Gospel of Luke stands out with regard to Mary’s role in the birth of Jesus. Matthew’s birth narrative certainly includes Mary, but she is a fairly passive character. She is found to be pregnant by the Holy Spirit (ἐν γαστρὶ ἔχουσα ἐκ πνεύματος ἁγίου) in Matt 1:18, but Matthew’s attention in this narrative seems more focussed on Joseph than on Mary; namely, the angel who visits Joseph instructs him on how he is to handle his future wife who has become pregnant. Mark, of course, has no birth narrative. Mary appears in the Gospel of John, and her character is significant, but her role in that Gospel will necessitate another post (I write this retrospectively, seeing how long this particular post has become).

In Luke, Mary’s role in Jesus’ birth is extensive and pronounced. After he has visited both Zechariah and Elizabeth to announce the forthcoming birth of John the Baptist (Luke 1:5-25), the angel Gabriel is sent by God to visit Mary in Nazareth. When he greets her, he does so by means of the title κεχαριτωμένη, a perfect participle that means, “one who has been graced.” Typically, English translations render this “favored one” or even “highly favored one.” In my opinion, a better translation of this participle would in fact match the sense of the Ave Maria, “one who is full of grace.” The perfect tense typically means action completed in the past, but with continuing effects into the future. All of these things considered, Gabriel’s address to Mary shows that she is in possession of grace, that she has been in possession of grace, and that her possession of grace is distinct from the rest who are in Luke’s narrative. Canonically speaking, her possession of grace distinguishes her from everyone else as well.

Gabriel continues by telling Mary that she will become pregnant with a son (by the power of the Holy Spirit), that her son will be called the son of the Most High (ὐψίστου), and that God will give to him the throne of David, which will last forever (Luke 1:32-33). Mary’s response to Gabriel has given rise to no shortage of theological reflection; she says, in reference to herself, “Behold, the servant(f) of the Lord. May it be to me according to your word” (Luke 1:38). This response, known simply as Mary’s Fiat, effectively sets in motion the events of the Incarnation. This is not to say that the Word becoming flesh was some sort of afterthought, or that without Mary’s consent humanity could not have been redeemed. To be sure, redemption could have occurred in any number of ways. However, the means by which God chose to act was through a virgin in Nazareth who was not only able to bear the Redeemer, but who was willing to bear the Redeemer. Mary’s being graced (κεχαριτωμένη) shows her ability to undertake such a task; her Fiat shows her willingness.

Mary’s encounter with Elizabeth is also worth noting in this discussion. When she goes to see her relative (Luke 1:36, 39-40), John the Baptist is still in Elizabeth’s womb. Upon seeing Mary (who is now pregnant), John leaps in the womb and Elizabeth is immediately filled with the Holy Spirit. She exclaims, “You have been blessed among women; also the fruit of your womb has been blessed!” Elizabeth then makes a statement that has often been glossed over, “Why has this happened to me, that the mother of my Lord might come to me?” (Luke 1:43). This entire scene is striking on account of its theological richness. Namely, Mary comes to Elizabeth when she is barely pregnant (i.e., the baby is likely not showing yet), and yet Elizabeth, empowered by the Spirit, is aware that Mary is with child. Moreover, Elizabeth asserts that Mary is the mother of her Lord. Now, I’m not going to press things too far and say that Luke singlehandedly gave birth (pardon the pun) to the concept of Mary as θεοτόκος that would be championed at Ephesus in 431…I’m also not going to say that Luke’s metaphysics of the Incarnation (if we may even speak of such things at this point) is sophisticated enough to support the theological weight of such a claim. However, I will say is that Luke’s portrayal of this scene seems to me as Mariological as it is Christological…it could perhaps be said to be more Mariological than it is Christological. Namely, although Jesus is technically in this scene (in utero), His character is quite passive in every sense of the word. The focus is on Mary’s being the Mother of the Lord.

At this point, we may rightly speak of a shift in focus. After Elizabeth has finished praising Mary, Mary begins to prophesy in what is now known as the Magnificat (Luke 1:46-55). In this hymn of praise, Mary directs the reader’s attention, not to herself, but to God; specifically, she speaks of God’s saving action. Granted, Mary’s hymn of praise also addresses the topic of her own role in this work, especially at the beginning, but this is always as a means to show the larger picture of God’s action in and among humanity. In a sense, the Magnificat embodies what any talk of Mary should embody. That is, Mary’s role in this process is beyond question; as mentioned earlier, Mary’s Fiat has set in motion the events of the Incarnation, and as such, her Fiat shows her own willingness to participate in the work of redemption. The work of redemption is always and undeniably the work of God, but at least in Luke’s Gospel, Mary’s role in this plan remains undeniable.

Scattered throughout the New Testament, there are other texts that speak either specifically of Mary or broadly of Jesus having a human mother. I have chosen to focus here on the Annunciation narrative in Luke, as it strikes me as among the most Mariological narratives in the New Testament. If you’re interested in looking for yourself at the other New Testament authors who speak of Mary, the Marian Library at the University of Dayton has a fine resource that can be accessed here.

The Shadow of the Galilean (review)

I just finished reading Gerd Theissen’s The Shadow of the Galilean. Truth be told, it is one of the finest books on Jesus that I’ve read.

Just a note, the following post is intentionally vague at points, to avoid spoiling the book.

The subtitle of the book (The Quest of the Historical Jesus in Narrative Form) may lead one to believe that it is yet another fictitious account about what Jesus might have done as he roamed around Galilee. To be sure, such narratives do in fact have value, when they’re attentive to questions of historicity and when they don’t completely ignore what was probable (or even possible) in first century Palestine.

Theissen’s book, however, is of a different breed; the book itself has much to do with Jesus, but Jesus himself never appears directly on any pages of the narrative. The main character, Andreas, sees Jesus once (he tells the reader in retrospect), but throughout the book he cannot avoid constantly running into Jesus’ “shadow.” While traveling around Galilee and the surrounding areas, Andreas meets people who have been influenced by Jesus, people who are supporters of Jesus, and people who think that Jesus is a troublemaker. Through these encounters, Andreas learns of those things that Jesus did and said.

In this regard, Andreas’ task is not unlike that of the modern historian whose focus is the historical Jesus. A quote from the beginning of chapter 14 sums the matter up nicely: “I never met Jesus on my travels through Galilee. I just found traces of him everywhere: anecdotes and stories, traditions and rumours. He himself remained intangible. But everything that I heard of him [fit] together. Even quite exaggerated stories about him had a characteristic stamp. They would not have been told about anyone else in this way.”

Throughout the narrative, Theissen also introduces characters that will be immediately recognizable to those who have done work in 1st century history; Philo, Pilate, Bannus (from Josephus, Life 2, 11), Barabbas, etc. all make at least cameo appearances. Generally, when Theissen is introducing a new character who actually (or probably) existed, he will footnote them; the same is true regarding his citation of extra-canonical texts.

The book is also accented by Theissen’s side of a correspondence with a certain “Dr. Kratzinger,” who throughout the book aims to keep Theissen’s narrative grounded in some sort of historical reality.

This book can be both helpful and enjoyable to anyone interested in knowing more about 1st century Palestine. I have studied much of the material covered in the book for years, and I found myself unable to stop reading it. That is to say, this book is not simply for a common audience, although I imagine that even those not terribly familiar with the political, social and religious structures of this time period will still find the book quite enjoyable and informative.