[Dialogue] {Disarmed} Spong on th roots of Xkian anti semitism
KroegerD at aol.com
KroegerD at aol.com
Wed Jul 25 19:47:57 EDT 2007
July 25 2007
Flavius Josephus, Judas Iscariot and Anti-Semitism
During this summer I have read Flavius Josephus' history of the first century
war fought between the Romans and the Jews. That war began in Galilee in 66
C.E. and ended in 73 with the suicide of the last Jewish defenders in a
fortress southeast of Jerusalem called Masada. The crucial moment in that war was
the battle for Jerusalem, which fell to the Roman forces in the year 70. Far
more than most people imagine that war shaped both Christianity and Christian
history dramatically. It was, I believe, the major background event against
which the first three gospels of Mark, Matthew and Luke (70-90) were written.
Echoes of this war are also present in the Fourth Gospel (95-100) which
reflects the deep, visceral and lingering Christian hostility towards the Jews
that was a direct result of this war. Reading Josephus reconfirmed my long-held
conviction that the anti-Semitism that has plagued Christian history was in
fact not an original part of Christianity; it was rather born in response to
this Jewish War.
Josephus was a Jew whose opposition to this war was so intense that he
actually defected to the Roman side. He thus understood just how deeply divisive
the war was among the Jewish people. Many Jews regarded it as a hopeless,
ill-planned and foolish adventure. It clearly lacked the necessary political
support to be pursued effectively. It began in the hills of Galilee. The Romans
called its instigators "terrorists" but the militant Jews, called them,
"freedom fighters." Utilizing the sanctuary of the hills, plus hit and run guerilla
tactics, these Jewish fighters inflicted steady losses on the Roman occupying
legions. When these attacks became more than just an irritant, the Romans
decided not to continue to bleed in the territory where the guerillas had the
advantage, but to strike a mortal blow against the entire Jewish nation. So
deploying massive force, they began an attack on Jerusalem itself. Under the
command of a general named Vespasian, these Roman forces moved into siege
positions around the Holy City.
When that army had isolated Jerusalem from the rest of the world, the debate
about both the tactics and the morality of this war reached a fever pitch
among its trapped citizens. The primary support for the war had come from those
Jewish Temple leaders, who were called the "Orthodox Party," and it tended to
claim the allegiance of the most religiously zealous Jews. Those opposing
the war were the less doctrinaire, more eclectic Jews who were regarded by the
Orthodox party as "the revisionists." That term included not just the less
observant Jews, but also a group of synagogue worshippers who were called the
"Followers of the Way," but who would later become known as "Christians."
Bitterness was obvious as the members of the Orthodox Party labeled all
revisionists as both "heretics" and "traitors," making them the regular victims of
their persecution, which, under Orthodox leaders John Hycanus and Simon, reached
the level of regular assassinations. As the Roman Army's battering rams were
colliding with the ancient protective walls of the city, these feelings
inside Jerusalem reached the intensity that is inevitable when everyone's
survival is at stake.
A political crisis in Rome also played a role in this great battle. When
Nero, the Roman Emperor, died, Vespasian, with the full support of the Roman
army, was summoned back to Rome to be installed as the new emperor, or Caesar.
The command of the army besieging Jerusalem was turned over to his son, Titus.
It was thus under Titus that Jerusalem's walls were finally breached and the
Roman forces poured in, smashing and devastating the Temple and the entire
Holy City. The Romans were highly motivated to punish those Jews they held
responsible for starting the war, so the persecution of the Jews became official
Roman policy. There was also in the aftermath of this war an intense Jewish
anger toward those same Orthodox leaders who had provoked this war. The Jewish
"revisionists," including the synagogue-worshipping disciples of the Jewish
Jesus desired that the Romans know that they too had opposed this war. By
this means they sought to separate themselves from those Orthodox Jews who were
now the special objects of Roman wrath. As they did this it was almost
inevitable that what was meant to be anti-Orthodox rhetoric would be heard as
anti-Semitic prejudice.
Mark, the earliest gospel, was written shortly after the fall of Jerusalem
and reflects these tensions. One of that gospel's major motifs was to blame the
Temple authorities for the death of Jesus. In the crucifixion scenes in
Mark, expressed also in both Matthew and Luke, each of whom borrowed
significantly from Mark, this theme becomes obvious in the way two characters in that
drama are portrayed. One is Pontius Pilate, the official representative of the
Roman Empire, who is presented as seeking to escape the responsibility of
ordering Jesus to be crucified, but constantly being forced against his will to
do so by the Temple priesthood. The other character is Judas Iscariot, the
anti-hero of the Jesus story, who is portrayed as the ultimate traitor not just
of Jesus, but of Judaism itself. Using the old argument that "the enemy of my
enemy is my friend," the revisionist Jews sought to escape the hostility of
the Romans by joining them in the attack on the Jerusalem Jewish leaders.
Up until this time the Christian movement had been part of the synagogue.
Anti-Semitism was unknown. Jesus, after all, was a Jew. So were his twelve
disciples, his parents, Joseph and Mary, and other Christian leaders like Paul
and Mary Magdalene. Now, however, overt hostility expressed toward the Orthodox
Party was heard as anti-Semitism. The Christians saw the Temple authorities,
not the Romans, as their ultimate enemies and they began to tell the Jesus
story from that bias. They thus wrote into their gospels, which in time would
be called the "Word of God," incredible hostility toward those they identified
simply as "The Jews." The anti-Semitism that has rocked the Christian world
for 2000 years was born in that moment.
For years now I have also been suspicious of the historicity of the person
known as Judas Iscariot. Reading Josephus reconfirmed these feelings. My
suspicions were first aroused by the fact that Paul, who wrote between 50 and 64
C.E., appears not to be aware of the tradition that Jesus was betrayed by one
of the Twelve. Paul's only reference that might have given rise later to the
story of a traitor is found in I Corinthians 11 where he dates the
inauguration of the last supper with these words: On the night in which Jesus was handed
over, he took bread. The word "handed over" was later translated "betrayed."
Paul does not connect the last supper with the Passover meal, nor does he
give any indication of who might have been involved in the "handing over,"
though it is clear that he did not ascribe this behavior to one of the Jesus'
disciples. How do we know? Just four chapters later in the same Epistle, Paul
says that the risen Christ appeared "after three days" to "the Twelve." Judas
was presumably still a member of that group.
The story of Judas is introduced for the first time into Christian writing by
Mark in the early 70's. There is no mention of one of the Twelve being a
traitor earlier than this. My suspicions were further aroused by the fact that
Mark names this anti-hero of his story the same name as that of the entire
Jewish nation. Judas is simply the Greek spelling of Judah. Next I noticed that
every detail we have in the gospel tradition about Judas appears to be lifted
out of other traitor stories in the Hebrew Scriptures. The verb "handed
over" was used only one other time in the Hebrew Bible, and that was when the
brothers of Joseph handed him over to a band of slave traders. In that narrative
the brother who sought to receive money for this deed was Judah. In the
story of Ahithophel's betrayal of King David we find many echoes of the Judas
story. Ahithophel, like Judas, was said to have broken bread with "the Lord's
anointed" before the traitorous act. After the betrayal Ahithophel, like Judas,
went out and hanged himself. The kiss of the traitor is part of the
Joab-Amasa narrative in the David cycle of stories. The shepherd king of Israel is
betrayed for thirty pieces of silver in the writings of Zechariah. This blood
money is then hurled back into the treasury, just as Matthew suggested that
Judas also did with his thirty pieces of silver. The Judas story increasingly
seems to me to be a contrived story, not a story of a person of history.
Flavius Josephus also tells us in his history of Jerusalem's fall that the
militant Jews who led the fight against Rome were called the "Sicarii." Most
scholars today believe that the name "Iscariot" derives from that word. After
the fall of Jerusalem, the last holdout for the Sicarii was at the fortress
called Masada. Their resistance ended, Josephus states, in a massive act of
suicide by the remaining members of the Jewish army. It was their choice, said
Josephus, lest they fall into the hands of the Romans and face sure death by
crucifixion.
So in Mark's story we have introduced for the first time in Christian writing
the account of Judas' betrayal, the use of the name "Iscariot" to associate
him with the militant Jews, the role of the Temple leaders in the crucifixion
and the attempt to exonerate the Roman official, Pontius Pilate. All of
these themes served well the survival needs of the Christians in that bitter
moment of Jewish history. Through these means these "Followers of the Way" sought
the blessing of Rome, distanced themselves from those who caused Jerusalem's
destruction and asserted that those responsible for the war also caused the
death of Jesus.
That attitude toward the Jewish leaders, born in this war, thus entered
Christianity and in time was transformed into a general anti-Semitism that was
destined to mark Christian history, erupting finally into the Holocaust. Judas
became the quintessential Jew shaping the Christian stenotype of Jews for the
ages. All of that was the result of the Jewish war. History is strange. Some
of its irrational consequences are even stranger.
John Shelby Spong
_Note from the Editor: Bishop Spong's new book is available now at
bookstores everywhere and by clicking here!_
(http://astore.amazon.com/bishopspong-20/detail/0060762071/104-6221748-5882304)
Question and Answer
With John Shelby Spong
Richard P. Hawkes, via the Internet, writes:
Your credentials are outstanding and I thoroughly enjoyed your recent recap
of events on your lecture tour of Norway and Sweden. The poem by Tor Littmark
that you included in one column was deep and moving. I wish I could share it
with ALL my friends and relatives. You must, however, have encountered more
than a little backlash from the complaining conservative evangelical elements
in both countries or did they just roll over and play dead?
Dear Richard,
The fact is that while I was in both countries I experienced nothing but the
warmth of a gracious welcome. I suspect that if there was additional backlash
to my visit from conservative, evangelical groups in Norway and Sweden, it
occurred after I left. That is frequently the pattern. They can use the
"letters to the editor" columns to get their point across without fear of being
challenged.
Please do not misunderstand, however, that while I do not enjoy it, I welcome
negative responses and have received many of them. That is finally the only
way I can cause people, who have long since left the kind of religion these
negative people are espousing, to wake up and entertain the possibility that
there may be something more to the Christianity than that by which they are
repelled.
I grew up in an evangelical fundamentalist world and it gave me a tremendous
sense of security as I struggled with the realities of losing my father at
the age of 12. I reveled in my heavenly father who would not disappoint me as
my earthly father had done. Without that firm anchor, I do not know what would
have happened to the fragile lad that I was. It is one thing, however, to
need a literal anchor in a particular storm of life but quite another to cling
to yesterday's anchor because you can not grow up. Life changes, boundaries
expound and spirits soar. That is when one discovers that security is not the
end goal of life and that sometimes one has to risk, to let go, to venture
and to journey and when you do, you discover that God is more than just a
security anchor. God is a future hope, a dream, and a reality beckoning you to
live, to love and to be. That is when the religion of evangelical fundamentalism
can and will be laid down and abandoned. It comes at different times in
people's lives but it always comes. If one rejects or represses that moment of
freedom, one becomes an angry fundamentalist whose life is dedicated to
protecting one's religious security system. The name of those who act this way today
is legion, but that response will not last. It never does.
So I welcome what you call the backlash. I rejoice in what religious
fundamentalism did in my life and I celebrate the fact I have no need to cling to
that part of my past. Indeed my life requires that I let the quest for security
go and I rejoice in that.
John Shelby Spong
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