Reading Judas, by Pagels and King

New York Times Book Review: By STEPHEN PROTHERO

One of the genuine puzzles of early Christianity, and of much subsequent Christian history, concerns who is to blame for Jesus’ death. The Gospels make it plain that it was God’s plan, and that Jesus carried out this divine plan in order to save human beings from the wages of sin. And yet Judas and the Jews (to whom the word “Judas” is etymologically linked) are blamed for setting this divine plan in motion. As Pagels and King note, there is something amiss here. How can Judas be branded evil for carrying out God’s plan? Is his infamous kiss, depicted on the dust jacket of “Reading Judas,” really a betrayal if God had the crucifixion in mind from before Jesus’ birth?

Pagels and King do an excellent job explaining why, according to the author of this renegade gospel, mainstream Christianity has gotten it so wrong for so long. ...

On the perennial question of death and the afterlife, Pagels and King explain that whereas other early Christians affimed the doctrine of bodily resurrection, the Christians to whom this gospel is addressed believed in the immortal spirit. Here the body is suspect. Jesus is not reborn in the flesh but simply appears. The eternal life he offers is lived in the spirit alone, and it is won more through Jesus’ teachings than through his sacrifice on the cross. ...

[Thomas] Jefferson['s] Bible, as this anti-supernatural Scripture is called, concludes abruptly, as Jesus is being laid in the tomb, without a hint of the Resurrection. The Gospel of Judas ends even more abruptly — before Jesus begins his trek to Calvary. Like Jefferson’s Bible, it scoffs at the notion that God would sacrifice his son to atone for the world’s sins. It too depicts Jesus as a teacher rather than a savior...

Pagels and King massage the multicultural sensibilities of their readers by opining that the Gospel of Judas represents a “sharp, dissenting voice” against the “single, static, universal system of beliefs” of official Christianity. Preaching to the “spiritual but not religious” choir, they tell us that, like other noncanonical texts they have championed elsewhere, this gospel aims to “encourage believers to seek God within themselves, with no mention of churches, much less of clergy.”...

The Gospel of Judas denounces this cult of the martyr as “hideous folly” and calls for religion “to renounce violence as God’s will and purpose for humanity.” In the process it offers a prophetic “no,” according to Pagels and King, to “our world of polarized religious violence.”

Any critique of martyrdom will sound plausible in light of 9/11... But the particular combination offered here — the paean to diversity, the suspicion of organized religion, the denunciation of violence in the name of peace — sounds too suspiciously close to contemporary multicultural pieties to be taken as ancient gospel.

Blogging The Book of Job: I'm flummoxed!

David Plotz has been "blogging the Bible" on Slate for some time. Here's the conclusion to his discussion of the Book of Job:
From Slate Magazine: A Posting for the Sabbath Day

I confess that I'm flummoxed by Job. Should we believe Chapters 38 through 41, when God tells us we're nothing, and that we have no right to question Him? Or should we believe Chapter 42, when God acknowledges that Job was right and settles the lawsuit? The God of Chapters 38 through 41 is petulant, arrogant, and wrong. The God of Chapter 42 is willing to correct His mistake. Also the God of Chapter 42 admits that the three friends are wrong. By punishing them, He seems to be conceding that, in fact, the wicked aren't always punished and the good aren't always rewarded. But isn't such a concession impossible for God? If He disavows their arguments, isn't He saying He's impotent? That he doesn't actually reward the righteous and upbraid the wicked?
I'm troubled, I'm puzzled, I have more questions than answers—and that, I suppose, is why the Book of Job has been required reading for almost 3,000 years.

Given what my wife and I have been through the past several years, I've dipped into Job myself, and have largely concluded that its author must have had (or helped to create) a mordant, if lively, Jewish sense of irony.
Professors at both Yale and Wisconsin Law Schools teach popular courses on the Book of Job. (I don't think it qualifies for the Wisconsin bar privilege, but that's an interesting thought.) Anywhere else? Besides maybe Regent?