But Jesus said unto him, Judas, betrayest thou the Son of man with a kiss?

— Luke 22:48

I like your Christ. I do not like your Christians. They are so unlike your Christ.

— Mahatma Gandhi

I don’t believe “Judas Iscariot” really existed. His first name, “Judas,” refers to “Judah,” and is the same root from which we have “Judaism” and “Jew.” “Iscariot” probably refers to the sicarii–the most radical of the Zealot sects of the Second Temple period (essentially the terrorists of the early Roman Empire). He’s the only one of the apostles from Judea–everyone else is from Galilee. So, essentially, he is “Jew the Jew from Jew-land.” Christianity began as a Second Temple Jewish sect, and was as embroiled in the sectarian infighting as all the rest. The swipes the early Christian books take at other Jewish sects are precisely the same as we find in the Dead Sea Scrolls. The gospels tell us that Jesus faced his last hours alone–so who was keeping all these notes? John Dominic Crossan calls the account of Jesus’ crucifixion, as we have it, “prophesy historicized.” It’s a “passion play,” a morality tale, a metaphor possibly pregnant with truth–but it’s unlikely to be historical fact. Frankly, the idea that someone could overturn the money changers’ tables in the crowded temple during a pilgrimage feast–a powder-keg of possible rebellious tensions–and walk out of the Temple alive, right past an entire fortress of Roman soldiers, already defies description. So, I hope you’ll forgive me for doubting the historical nature of Jesus’ evil betrayer, “Jew the Jew from Jew-land.” That’s not to say he wasn’t betrayed….

An Essenic Sect

I mentioned that Christianity was a Second Temple Jewish sect. Particularly, I believe it was an Essene sect. I made this argument in my 2002 paper, “Subversion Incarnate: Asceticism as Political Resistance in Roman Judea, 6 - 66 CE” (PDF; also available in the Vault), where I wrote:

Scholars have puzzled over the contradictions between the male, celibate community found at Qumran, and the descriptions given by Josephus and Philo of thousands of Essenes, living in cities and towns, marrying only for procreation. Boccaccini suggests that the less rigorous, dispersed group was the mainstream Essene movement (1998), and that its beliefs are reflected in the Enochic literature, while the group at Qumran was a more radical off-shoot of the larger Essene movement. We may be looking at other sub-groups of the Essene movement in the Theraputae described by Philo (Vermes & Goodman 1989), possibly even in the Zealots and sicarii (Jones 1985), and perhaps in the Baptist (Crossan 1991) and Jesus movements that grew into Christianity.

…

The Enochic literature makes clear a world view where the material world is ruled by fallen angels; those who are in power, obtain their power from the forces of evil. The power of these fallen angels is too great to be overcome by human means; it will be broken by God, or God’s messiah, at the eschaton. Until then, the Essenes lived a life of withdrawal, while in the midst of the material world. The mainstream Essene sect lived “not in one town only, but in every town several of them form a colony.� (Josephus, BJ 2.124) They restricted sexual activity to procreation only; thus, sex during menstruation or pregnancy was punishable. Enjoyment of sex was not permitted. All property was held in common by the group. Josephus records that they bathed in cold water every morning, that they viewed slavery as unnatural, that their meals are sufficient only for subsistence and no more, and that they refuse to swear oaths. The Essenes would not engage in the production of any weapons of war, or tools that could be used for war, because, in 1 Enoch, the art of creating these implements was given by the fallen angel Azazel (Boccaccini 1998). The rejection of oaths also is found in the Enochic literature—the fallen angels begin their enterprise with an oath. Oaths were what kept the ancient world together; oaths bound the client to his patron, and it was this patronage system which governed all of the ancient world’s social relationships. One who refused to swear an oath in the ancient world was making a very clear rejection of the entire socio-political structure of ancient civilization in general.

…

The Gospels’ description of John the Baptist fits well with Josephus’ description of Essenes expelled from their community (Crossan 1991). The Jesus movement, also, shares many things in common with the Essenes. The dualistic view of heaven and hell, angels and demons, fits well with Enochic and Qumranite literature. The positions the gospels assign to Jesus on marriage (Matthew 19:12), the Temple (Mark 13:2), the rejection of oaths (Matthew 5:33-37), and the importance of the Mosaic Law (Matthew 5:17-20) accord perfectly with mainstream Essenic thought. If, however, this is an Essenic movement, it must have been an offshoot from its earliest days, given the attitudes on fasting (the Jesus Seminar concluded that the gospels’ reticent allowance of fasting was an attempt to mitigate the historical Jesus’ forbidding fasting altogether), and the general lack of the strict hierarchy found in the Essene community. While all sources agree on the strictness of Essene hierarchy, the presence of any such hierarchy in early Christianity can only be assumed. While wandering charismatics may have held some authority out of respect (Thiessen 1977), even this was mitigated early on (Crossan 1989).

The links are as clear as they are strong. The Essene movement was a very widespread, but fractured movement. The sectarians at Qumran were the most radically ascetic group, but the Theraputae in Egypt and even the Zealots themselves can be seen as offshoots of Essenism. More importantly, their largest numbers came from a group of mainstream ascetics who somaticized a complete rejection of worldly authority.

The Jesus Movement took this to an entirely new level.

Cynic Influence

Galilee was an especially fertile region of the Levant, situated north of Judea and Samaria. It had attracted a great deal of Greek settlement under the Ptolemies and Seleucids, particularly in the Decapolis. By the first century, the Decapolis had become one of the most significant hotbeds of activity that Cynic philosophy would ever know.

The Cynics held to a philosophy that put a radical emphasis on total freedom. Freedom from desire, but also political freedom. Cynics did not advocate violent revolution or even active opposition; instead, they told people to, in Daniel Quinn’s words, “walk away.” If you do no accept government’s authority, then their power over you is gone. They embodied this radical rejection of all forms of control in their dress and demeanor, often somaticizing their rebellion in disruptive ways–imagine a “shock jock” like our own Howard Stern, only with a philosophical point to make.

Naturally, this made the aristocracy take a dim view of Cynicism. The name comes from the Greek for “dog,” because of this smear campaign. Our modern usage of the word also comes from this propaganda campaign, as the aristocracy managed to convince everyone that such a rejection of their temporal authority was a misanthropic rejection of human society itself. Lucian made merciless fun of the Cynics in his satirical Sale of Creeds, where he gives Diogenes of Sinope the following lines:

Above all, be bold, be impudent; distribute your abuse impartially to king and commoner. They will admire your spirit. You will talk the Cynic jargon with the true Cynic snarl, scowling as you walk, and walking as one should who scowls; an epitome of brutality. Away with modesty, good-nature, and forbearance. Wipe the blush from your cheek for ever. Your hunting-ground will be the crowded city. You will live alone in its midst, holding communion with none, admitting neither friend nor guest; for such would undermine your power. Scruple not to perform the deeds of darkness in broad daylight: select your love-adventures with a view to the public entertainment: and finally, when the fancy takes you, swallow a raw cuttle-fish, and die. Such are the delights of Cynicism.

…

But look you, it is all so easy; it is within every man’s reach. No education is necessary, no nonsensical argumentation. I offer you a short cut to Glory. You may be the merest clown–cobbler, fishmonger, carpenter, money-changer; yet there is nothing to prevent your becoming famous. Given brass and boldness, you have only to learn to wag your tongue with dexterity.

Plutarch’s famous account illustrates the kind of boldness Lucian is so afraid of:

Soon after, the Grecians, being assembled at the Isthmus, declared their resolution of joining with Alexander in the war against the Persians, and proclaimed him their general. While he stayed here, many public ministers and philosophers came from all parts to visit him and congratulated him on his election, but contrary to his expectation, Diogenes of Sinope, who then was living at Corinth, thought so little of him, that instead of coming to compliment him, he never so much as stirred out of the suburb called the Cranium, where Alexander found him lying along in the sun. When he saw so much company near him, he raised himself a little, and vouchsafed to look upon Alexander; and when he kindly asked him whether he wanted anything, “Yes,” said he, “I would have you stand from between me and the sun.” Alexander was so struck at this answer, and surprised at the greatness of the man, who had taken so little notice of him, that as he went away he told his followers, who were laughing at the moroseness of the philosopher, that if he were not Alexander, he would choose to be Diogenes.

Other Classical authors expressed their fear that the popularity of Cynicism among the lower classes would spell the end of civilization itself, as the “cobbler, fishmonger, carpenter, money-changer” all abandoned their abusive lords to join “the army of the dog.”

And nowhere was their influence greater than in the Galilean Decapolis, during the first century.

One of those cities, Sepphoris, was destroyed during Judas the Galilean’s rebellion in 6 CE. Herod Antipas, the Tetrarch of Galilee, rebuilt Sepphois as his capital, attracting a flock of skilled laborers–including carpenters. An outlying village–Nazareth–was home to many of these peasants during the years that followed, as they worked to rebuild one of the great centers of Cynic philosophy.

Should we be surprised, then, that Cynic philosophy seems to play such a major influential role in Jesus’ teachings? When Jesus sends out the disciples in Matthew 6:7-11, he leaves instructions as to what they are to take with them: “And commanded them that they should take nothing for their journey, save a staff only; no scrip, no bread, no money in their purse: But be shod with sandals; and not put on two coats.” (Matthew 6:8-9). This would have been immediately recognizable in ancient Galilee as the standard “uniform” of the Cynics. F. Gerald Downing writes:

Yet if the first Christian missionaries obeyed instructions of the kind recorded in Matthew 9:35-10.16, Mark 6:6-11, Luke. 9:1-5, and Luke 10:1-12, they would have looked like a kind of Cynic, displaying a very obvious poverty. Not all Cynics wore exactly the same dress; not all of them even carried the staff that for some was symbolic. But a raggedly cloaked and outspoken figure with no luggage and no money would not just have looked Cynic, he would obviousiy have wanted to.

Perhaps a wandering Christian preacher repeated the approach ascribed to Jesus in the tradition, “How’s your health today? Feeling well, are you? I’m only here for the ones who are ready to admit they’re a bit sickly, and need the doctor,” But that was a standard Cynic gambit, from the earliest days (even if they weren’t the only ones to use it). “You’re sick with worry about your house when you’re away from it and about your job when you’re at home,” he might have continued; “and about whether the fleet will bring a decent catch in tomorrow, and about the winter clothes you put away last month. One day’s worry at a time is enough. Take a lesson from the wild birds and beasts and flowers. They live very well without grain stores. God cares. Believe me.”

…

Many early Christians, and others, were aware - and happily aware - of the similarities between strands of Jesus’ preaching, and the much older Cynic tradition. In the mid-second century a satirist called Lucian tells us of a man he’s sure is a charlatan, a man called Proteus Peregrinus, whom followers of Jesus called “the Christian Socrates,” and Cynics hailed as the greatest man since the original Diogenes, accepting his Christian sufferings as part of his Cynic credentials. There’s a story from even later of a man going to be consecrated as bishop of Constantinople still wearing his Cynic cloak; and there’s much more besides.

…

It seems to me that it will appear that Christians who shared publicly the teaching and stories that go to build up our first three gospels must have been entirely happy to sound as well as look like Cynics, content to find themselves saying a great many things of the kind that the Cynics were saying. They focussed on the same topics, very often pressing the same conclusions, and that frequently in very similar language.

There were differences. But then there were considerable differences among pagan Cynics themselves. Some talked about God and prayer and life to come; others were more skeptical and “humanist.” All were opposed to cant and hypocrisy, opposed to letting public opinion live your life for you, opposed to finding your reality in property or expensive enjoyment. They wanted to be free of all that, free to live their own lives - and free of the great men who liked throwing their weight around and expected everyone else to see them as benefactors. Cynics do not look very “political” to many of us today. They didn’t organise political parties, they didn’t (for the most part; there were some exceptions) have political programs. But they certainly got up the noses of people in authority, and were likely to find themselves in exile. They seem to have appeared political (and subversive) in their own day. But they weren’t exactly anarchists, either. They expected that if everyone lived more simply we could do without most of the rules and regulations; but the result would be more peaceful and more orderly - as well as more enjoyable. They were against what we might call a “consumerist” society. They favoured passive resistance. And the authorities often saw this as a very real political threat, and took it very seriously indeed.

The Cynics’ philosophy of simply “walking away” from hierarchical mechanisms of control found a clean join-point in the Essenic idea of withdrawing from a society dominated by evil governments, the legacy of fallen angels. The combination of the two philosophies, though, seems to have created an amalgam where the deficiencies of both were filled by the other, creating a whole greater than the sum of its parts.

Jesus’ Radical Anarchism

As John Dominic Crossan shows in pain-staking detail in the first half of his book, The Historical Jesus: The Life of a Mediterranean Jewish Peasant, Rome was a brokered society. This was typical of “ancient states,” and is usually referred to as “patronage.” Everyone but the emperor had a patron. Even the gods participated in this system: an individual worshipper could not simply approach the gods anymore than they could approach the emperor. They must approach the gods through the proper channels–the ordained priestly hierarchy.

This was the nature of hierarchy and control in the world Jesus inhabited. Cynics embraced a life of radical simplicity and solitary itinerancy; Essenes sought to escape an evil hierarchical world established by demons within their own, strict, religious hierarchies. Jesus seems to have combined these in a radical way, rejecting all forms of control.

Take, for example, the following passage, from Matthew 23:9, “And call no man your father upon the earth: for one is your Father, which is in heaven.” In the patriarchal, Roman world, this statement does not just reject the family, it rejects the very basis of all authority. Pietas was the Roman virtue. It was the sense of duty to one’s family, and to the state. The two were inextricably bound in the Roman mind. The Pater familias was an emperor in miniature; the emperor founded his power on the perception of himself as father of all the Roman people. To call no man on earth “father,” in Jesus’ world, was to deny any kind of authority from any source. It denied the authority of the Pater familias, and it denied the authority of the emperor himself. To follow this command, every disciple of Jesus must emulate Diogenes, and tell Alexander merely, “stand from between me and the sun.”

Very often, Matthew 22:21 is cited as Jesus’ acceptance of government. It reads, in reference to paying taxes to Rome: “Then he said to them, ‘Give to Caesar what is Caesar’s, and to God what is God’s.’” The Jesus Seminar highlights this phrase as one of the most undeniably historically accurate things Jesus ever said, but this statement can hardly be divorced from Jesus’ numerous earlier pronouncements about the illusory nature of material wealth. Jesus talks about wealth fading, being eaten by moths (Matthew 6:19), being stolen (Matthew 6:20), and generally drives home the point that material wealth is transient (Luke 12:15-21), illusory (Mark 4:19), and unimportant (Luke 16:11). Taken in that context, “render unto Caesar” is a statement Diogenes himself might have made: the State pretends to have authority and power. Let it pretend. The real reality has nothing to do with gold, coins, taxes, or anything else of the State. The State has exactly as much authority over you as you allow it to have; so don’t allow it to have any, and it won’t. Don’t fight against it, simply abandon it. Just “walk away.”

Crossan also raises the points of free healing and open commensality as crucial to Jesus’ career. The healing stories of Jesus are too numerous to simply ignore, and even if we do not accept them as miracles per se, there is a sufficient record of faith-healers and shamans to accept that Jesus may certainly have had an impact on those who came to him to be healed. This remains significant because, as Crossan points out, the healing stories of the Old Testament always involve the Temple. This underlines the brokered nature of the world. Healing comes from G-d through the Temple, and through no other source. Jesus refers to G-d with the familiar Aramaic Abba–roughly equivalent to “daddy”–and refuses to accept any other “father” or authority on earth. Judas the Galilean’s battle-cry–”No Lord buy G-d!”–takes on a less violent, but more radical tone in the mouth of Galilee’s even more famous son. In the healings, Jesus is taking this from a mere ideal into the realm of action. He eliminates the “middle man” of the Temple, and thus, radically negates the most fundamental nature of religious power in his world.

Open commensality was a similarly radical rejection of class and status. The gospels reveal the horror Jesus’ contemporaries felt, seeing Jesus eating with the poor. He commanded his followers to do the same (Luke 14:12). The meal was the single most important theater for Romans to assert the realities of class and status. Mingling persons of differing classes at the same table for a meal was a radical rejection of the very notion of class and status the likes of which has no clear modern analog.

Crossan’s conclusion from The Historical Jesus is:

The historical Jesus was, then, a peasant Jewish Cynic. His peasant village was close enough to a Greco-Roman city like Sepphoris that sight and knowledge of Sepphoris are neither inexplicable nor unlikely. But his work was among the farms and villages of Lower Galilee. His strategy, implicitly for himself and explicitly for his followers, was the combination of free healing and common eating, a religious and economic egalitarianism that negated alike and at once the hierarchical and patronal normalcies of Jewish religion and Roman power.

At the same time, Jesus came equally from the Essenic tradition–and other scholars have rightly referred to him as “apocalyptic.” Jesus’ plan is radical, and he is fully aware of this. Its pursuit will mean the end of civilization itself, by abandonment: the end that other Roman authors feared, as the lower classes abandoned civilization for the “army of the dog.”

Jesus obviously expects the world to end in his own lifetime, and for most of it to come from the wrath of a vengeful G-d. The radical society he builds is meant to inherit the world that G-d will leave them with. So, what manner of apocalypse does Jesus envision? And what kind of post-apocalyptic utopia does he envision his followers inheriting? Can we tell from the kind of society he tries to build?

Jesus does not advocate solitary wandering, like the Cynics. Even when he temporarily sends his apostles through the countryside, he sends them “two by two.” He doesn’t just recast the Cynic message in a Jewish context, he also introduces the idea of “walking away” as a community. Jesus and his followers walk from town to town, gathering food (foraging) from planted fields (Matthew 12:1), and engage in reciprocal relationships with friends who give him food and shelter. Acts 4:32-35 describes the nature of the early Jesus Movement’s community as something akin to a hippie commune:

And the multitude of them that believed were of one heart and of one soul: neither said any of them that ought of the things which he possessed was his own; but they had all things common. And with great power gave the apostles witness of the resurrection of the Lord Jesus: and great grace was upon them all. Neither was there any among them that lacked: for as many as were possessors of lands or houses sold them, and brought the prices of the things that were sold, And laid them down at the apostles’ feet: and distribution was made unto every man according as he had need.

As such, Jesus execution is hardly remarkable. His movement represented a clear and present danger not only to Roman hegemony, but to civilization itself. In the film The Last Temptation of Christ, the trial before Pilate is depicted in the kind of dismissive tone the cruel procurator likely had. Yet he is also given a line which sums up Jesus’ threat very nicely:

PILATE: Do you want to know something? You’re more dangerous than the Zealots. Do you know that? Say something. You had better say something. All right. Tell me what you tell people on the streets.

CHRIST: Yes?

PILATE: Yes.

CHRIST: The prophet Daniel had a vision: A tall statue that had a gold head and silver shoulders. The stomach was bronze,
the legs were iron, the feet were clay. A stone was thrown. The clay feet broke and the statue collapsed. You see, God threw the stone.
The stone is me. And Rome…

PILATE: And Rome is the statue, yes. So your kingdom, or your world, will replace Rome. Where is it?

CHRIST: My kingdom? It’s not here. Not on earth….

PILATE: It wouldn’t be, would it? It’s one thing to want to change the way that people live … but you want to change how they think, how they feel.

CHRIST: All I’m saying is that change will happen with love, not with killing.

PILATE: Either way, it’s dangerous. It’s against Rome. It’s against the way the world is. And killing or loving, it’s all the same. It simply doesn’t matter how you want to change things. We don’t want them changed.

Betraying the Son of Man

It would take a peculiar kind of historical blindness to neglect the role that Christianity has traditionally played as one of the most hierarchical, dominating forces the world has ever seen. How did the horrors of Christendom emerge from the radical, apocalyptic egalitarianism of Christ?

It begins with Jesus’ own family. The families of holy men formed an important part of the “brokered world” of Rome. Jesus was acutely aware of this, and so, spent a good deal of his time repudiating his family (Matthew 12:48-49, Matthew 23:9, Luke 14:26). His family tried to have him taken away as insane when his campaign became embarrassing for them, but after the crucifixion, all of them were quick to join the other disciples (Acts 1:14). Relying on the very forms of brokerage that Jesus had spent his life trying to undermine, his brother James came to be head of the movement. Already, the radical dream of Jesus was beginning to fade.

However, the process of turning that radical vision into an actual defense of everything Jesus had sought to tear down would require another–Paul. Paul cites his conversion often, but almost never makes any reference to what Jesus actually said or did. For Paul, only the crucifixion, resurrection, and the divinity of Christ matters. Jesus told his disciples that his was a Jewish movement, and not to proselytize beyond the limits of Judaism (Matthew 10:5, Matthew 15:24, John 4:22), and for all his treachery otherwise, James and the apostles did confine themselves to Judaism. When Paul converts, he is not trusted by the other Christians–and with good reason, he used to be persecuting them. He did not have much success in converting Jews, and so, turned his sights to the Gentile world. Dr. Adel Elsaie writes in History of Truth: The Truth about God and Religions:

In the early stages of Christianity, there were two versions of Christianity: one presented by James, a relative of Jesus, and the rest of the apostles as a mission to the Jews. Paul introduced the second version as a religion for Gentiles. Barnabas introduced Paul, to the other apostles in Jerusalem. But the disciples “were all afraid of Paul and believed not that he was a disciple, but Barnabas took him and brought him to the Apostles”, (Act 9:26-27). The apostles had doubtful feelings that Paul was not what he seemed to claim. Paul tried first to preach to the Jews, but he was unsuccessful as some of the Apostles. They understood that the Jesus’ message was for “the black sheep of Israel”, and Jesus came not to “destroy but to fulfill.” And here was someone, that they did not trust, pushing to steal the show and expand the religion beyond its original boundaries. The apostles were trying to conserve the Jewish law, while Paul was exempting the Gentiles from this law.

…

It is important to know these facts to understand the struggle between communities that ended up by shaping Christianity. The Gospels began to appear around 70 AD, the time where the two rival groups were engaged in a fierce struggle, with the Judeo-Christians winning this battle. Then the Jews revolted against Rome in 66 AD, and after the destruction of Jerusalem in 70 AD the Pauline version won the victory after his death. From 70 AD to about 140 AD, the Gospels of Mark, Matthew, Luke, and John appeared. They did not constitute the first Christian documents: the letters of Paul dated well before them.

Paul is the most controversial person in Christianity. He was considered to be a traitor to Jesus’ teachings by the family and apostles of Jesus. Paul created Christianity at the expense of those whom Jesus had gathered around him to spread his Gospel. He proved the authority of his mission by declaring Jesus, raised from the dead, had appeared to him on the road to Damascus. It is reasonable to state that Christianity would not be the same without Paul. It is almost certain that if this atmosphere of struggle between Christians had not existed, we would not have had the Bible that we know today.

The Jewish camp led by James objected primarily to Paul’s rejection of Mosaic Law, but many other concessions were also made in order to attract a wider, Gentile audience. Paul’s contradictions of Jesus’ commands regarding the Mosaic Law and the Jewish nature of his campaign are only the most insignificant of Paul’s betrayals. In order to “sell” Christianity to the Roman world, it needed to be stripped of its purpose. In places of Jesus’ radical rejection of pietas, Paul talks about the necessity for social order–for women to obey their husbands, for slaves to obey their masters, etc. In a juxtaposition that would be harder to make more clear, Jesus’ command to call no man on earth “father” (Matthew 23:9) is set against Paul’s declaration in 1 Corinthians 11:3: “Now I want you to realize that the head of every man is Christ, and the head of the woman is man, and the head of Christ is God.”

The most essential core of Jesus’ teaching was to reject all forms of earthly authority and live free. In order to “sell” Christianity, Paul makes the message how important it is to be a respectable member of society and do as you’re told. It’s significant that Paul emphasizes Jesus’ divinity, but never makes reference to Jesus’ own teachings. He uses the name of Christ like a weapon to bludgeon those who oppose him; he turns Jesus into a sterile godhead to be invoked, rather than heeded. By emphasizing Christ himself, Paul succeeded in pushing his teachings to the side–and thus, betraying everything Jesus ever stood for.

The sayings gospel, Q, shows that this was not always the case. It shows that Jesus’ teachings once held primacy, before Paul discarded those teachings and instead invoked Jesus as a mythic figure. With Paul, the Jesus Movement became the religion, Christianity. Christianity as we know it has nothing to do with Christ, and everything to do with Christ’s betrayer–Paul. In short, Christianity is the ultimate betrayal of everything Jesus ever stood for.

By the time Constantine came to the fore, the transformation was nearly complete. The intolerant, monolithic edifice of Christianity was the perfect complement to the terror and domination of the empire. As above, so below; as a single G-d rules in heaven, so must all the earth capitulate before a single throne. The imperial nightmare of despotic oppression could now pursue their subjects even into their prayers. Christianity became “the spiritual arm of the empire,” and a tool of domination and terror for the single most successful military regime in history–a regime that ruled through secret police, internal spy networks, paranoia and the absolute monopoly of violence. Paul’s Christianity was a perfect fit.

Today’s Christian fundamentalists revel in this grand tradition. Bible Doctrines for Today is a textbook published by A Beka, a favorite publishing company for those fundamentalists whose faith is so incredibly weak that they cannot face the possibility of their children encountering others who might think differently than they. Compare their dystopian vision of Jesus’ reign to the radically egalitarian future Jesus himself expected:

Christ will rule with a rod of iron. Those few earth dwellers who dare to sin outwardly will die. Evidently Christ will allow individuals to rebel inwardly, but not outwardly without suffering the immediate consequences.

The Last Temptation of Christ includes a fictionalized encounter between Jesus and Paul. For me, the exchange epitomizes the relationship between Christ and Christianity:

PAUL: Look around you. Look at all these people. Look at their faces. Do you see how unhappy they are? Do you see how they’re suffering? Their only hope is the resurrected Jesus. I don’t care whether you’re Jesus or not. The resurrected Jesus will save the world and that’s what matters.

CHRIST: Those are lies. You can’t save the world by lying.

PAUL: I created the truth out of what people needed and what they believed. If I have to crucify you to save the world, then I’ll crucify you. And if I have to resurrect you, then I’ll do that, too.

CHRIST: I won’t let you. I’ll tell everyone the truth.

PAUL: Go ahead. Go on. Tell them now. Who’s going to believe you? You started all this, now you can’t stop it. All those people who believe me will kill you.

CHRIST: No. That wouldn’t happen.

PAUL: How do you know? You see, you don’t know how much people need God. You don’t know how happy he can make them. Happy to do anything. He can make them happy to die and they’ll die. All for the sake of Christ. Jesus Christ. Jesus of Nazareth. The Son of God. The Messiah. Not you. Not for your sake. You know, I’m glad I met you. Because now I can forget all about you. My Jesus is much more important and much more powerful. Thank you. It’s a good thing I met you.

Bibliography

Boccaccini, G.

1998. Beyond the Essene Hypothesis: The Parting of the Ways between Qumran and Enochic Judaism. Grand Rapids: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company.

Crossan, J.

1989. The Birth of Christianity: Discovering What Happened in the Years Immediately After the Execution of Jesus . San Francisco: Harper Collins.

1991. The Historical Jesus: The Life of a Mediterranean Jewish Peasant. San Francisco: Harper Collins.

Jones, A.

1985. Essenes: The Elect of Israel and the Priests of Artemis. Lanham: University Press of America.

Schiffman, L.

1991. From Text to Tradition: A History of Second Temple and Rabbinic Judaism. Hoboken: KTAV Publishing House.

1991. Texts and Traditions: A Source Reader for the Study of Second Temple and Rabbinic Judaism. Hoboken: KTAV Publishing House.

Theissen, G.

1992. Social Reality and the Early Christians. Philadelphia: Fortress Press.

Vermes, G. and Goodman, M..

1989. The Essenes according to the Classical Sources. Sheffield: JSOT Press.