I have just finished reading John Carroll’s The Existential Jesus (Scribe, 2007). In answering the question Why another book on Jesus, JC (that’s John Carroll, not… you know…) says that What emerges is a mysteriously enigmatic, existential Jesus whose story has not been retold elsewhere, and whose teachings have not been spelt out as they are here.
This is a big claim. In my opinion, it is justified.
Carroll focuses on the Gospel of Mark, (the first written Gospel which set the agenda to which the others responded) and argues that the Gospel of John was the only other Gospel that really got what Mark was on about, and enlarged Mark’s story of Jesus into an account of Jesus the Christ. (Carroll says that the other two Gospels subvert and dilute Mark’s message to make it palatable to an audience incapable of hearing Mark’s story – namely, the church.) Along the way he gives riveting accounts of other players. His Peter and Pilate are breath taking, and not simply because he turns the traditional view of both men on their heads. Jesus, the main player, far from having foreknowledge of his identity and mission, makes mistakes, has to regroup, is disappointed in just about everyone and everything, and in the end dies as a failure in his own eyes. In other words, it’s an account of a Jesus who did not have the benefit of two thousand years of another point of view... the existential Jesus.
The significance of this is that you don’t have to be “into religion” to find this interesting, moving and relevant. This is a man who has had, and continues to have, a very big influence on humanity. This book explains why.
Over thirty years ago a Jesuit, Bede Lowry SJ, RIP, who was temporarily residing at St Joseph’s Parish, Giru, (near Townsville) told anyone who cared to listen that the Gospel of Mark was a scorching account of Jesus’ ministry that made the other Gospels look like Sunday School stuff – actually, it was the other Synoptics; like Carroll, he saw John as the other Gospel that challenged conventional assumptions. Unfortunately, I didn’t get what he was on about at all. Mark just seemed shorter than the others to me. But Carroll’s book has certainly shown me what BL may have been talking about.
I was startled to find that Carroll is not a practicing Christian. Yet he has lavished an astonishing amount of work on this book. I too am not a practicing Christian. At least not from the perspective of people who call themselves practicing Christians. I was until J-P II declared (more or less) that gay people are kidding themselves if they think they are Christians. Reading Carroll’s book makes me suspect that choosing to accept JP IIs definition of what is, or is not, Christian was the right one. On the other hand, I have also been reading the theologian James Alison who is gay and Christian. His work http://www.jamesalison.co.uk/texts/eng52.html has stirred me too, but quite differently to Carroll’s. One of his messages, if it can be summed up in a (colloquial) sentence is Don’t let the bastards tell you who you are. I must say I jump for joy when I read his stuff. But I also feel deeply motivated by Carroll’s messages: 1) If you are any sort of being you have a right (responsibility) to participate in the mystery of being. 2) There is a role for church – in social justice (anything else – such as presuming to define the nature of God and presuming to control the keys of the kingdom of heaven – is atavism). At least that is what I think he’s saying.
Towards the end of the book he say that there are two gifts: touch and story telling. And at the end of chapter 11 he ask What does it mean to tell a story? How can John’s particular achievement be generalised to other human beings living their very different lives? He go on to say Retell the story from yourself, from within your own particular being emerging from the shadows… I can’t tell you how much that means to me. I am about to embark on a project in which I hope to explore aspects of the Jesus story without ever mentioning his name (more on this below). Something else Carroll said reinforces (if not legitimises) that goal: somewhere in the book he said that it is not actually Jesus but his story that matters. (I think Paul of Tarsus would certainly endorse this.) Well, I’m not sure he put it quite as bluntly as that, but I think the sense of it was that Jesus is the exemplar of participation in the mystery of being but not the mystery itself – he demonstrates the journey but is not the destination. And he illustrate that by his discussion of Mary Magdalene who, by not clinging to Jesus, “becomes” him (the word becomes having two meanings, the actions of which are indispensable to each other).
As you would expect, Judas plays a significant role in Carroll’s telling of the story. He says Judas is the archetype of “I am not!” Carroll effectively endorses the Calvinist doctrine of predestination. So I wondered what he thought about Francis Moloney’s collaboration with Jeffrey Archer in writing The Gospel According to Judas, in which Judas does not commit suicide, but fades into quiet obscurity, leaving it to his son (I think) to tell his story.
I have to say that Judas has always been a puzzle to me. Nothing I have ever read about him convinces me that he is not a hapless victim. Not even Carroll’s account. Especially Carroll’s account. It is the one part of his book that I will have to re-read, and possibly re-re-read…. I cannot come at predestination. If he is right then Judas was not just a hapless victim, but someone with a good case against God! ( Have you seen the movie YThe man who sued God?) Maybe this simply reflects the limitation of my mind. I am not God and therefore cannot know the mind of God – as Job patiently points out.
I do however, see some way forward in something else he says in his book. He deals with the life of Jesus as story – as distinct from his story oops, I mean history. He can talk about Jesus dancing on the water without being bothered with whether or not he could actually do such a thing. What matters is how the incident works as story – not how it may have been possible. (He is scathing about the search for the historical Jesus.) If this is so, then maybe doctrine works in a similar way. Predestination is not necessarily a fact but a … a … what? A concept that works in the psyche or the unconscious to get a result that cannot possibly be got by calculating weight, distance, angle of refraction, specific gravity….
His account of Pontius Pilate, on the other hand had me cheering and dancing. I have never been able to stomach the sneering contempt of church people for this man. As a student of history I have always suspected that the Roman Governor of one of the most difficult provinces in the empire could not possibly be the venal sook he is made out to be in sermons and 1950s movies. And I was just bowled over a discussion about Billy Budd – the one opera that actually made me cry – with outrage!! (I didn’t know it was a novella by Herman Melville.) Suddenly I see Captain Vere in a very different light, and I am so glad to have a framework within which to imagine Pilate and other leaders – not to mention “enemies”.
Having got to this point I have to try to draw what I’m saying together. Let’s just say that I can’t believe it’s not butter. You know, I bet George Pell and his ilk have condescending things to say about Carroll and his work. They would regard Raymond E Brown as butter. Well, I can’t believe Carroll’s not butter – maybe even better. His reference to art from Greek tragedies to Benjamin Britten is awesome. He is attributing to people a role in the ongoing telling (retelling) of the story on an immensely enlarged scale. He shows how we are involved whether we intend to be or not.
Even if you have no interest in religion in general, and Christianity in particular, I believe you would find this book disturbingly engaging. Trust me on this. And if I’m wrong, sue me.
This is a big claim. In my opinion, it is justified.
Carroll focuses on the Gospel of Mark, (the first written Gospel which set the agenda to which the others responded) and argues that the Gospel of John was the only other Gospel that really got what Mark was on about, and enlarged Mark’s story of Jesus into an account of Jesus the Christ. (Carroll says that the other two Gospels subvert and dilute Mark’s message to make it palatable to an audience incapable of hearing Mark’s story – namely, the church.) Along the way he gives riveting accounts of other players. His Peter and Pilate are breath taking, and not simply because he turns the traditional view of both men on their heads. Jesus, the main player, far from having foreknowledge of his identity and mission, makes mistakes, has to regroup, is disappointed in just about everyone and everything, and in the end dies as a failure in his own eyes. In other words, it’s an account of a Jesus who did not have the benefit of two thousand years of another point of view... the existential Jesus.
The significance of this is that you don’t have to be “into religion” to find this interesting, moving and relevant. This is a man who has had, and continues to have, a very big influence on humanity. This book explains why.
Over thirty years ago a Jesuit, Bede Lowry SJ, RIP, who was temporarily residing at St Joseph’s Parish, Giru, (near Townsville) told anyone who cared to listen that the Gospel of Mark was a scorching account of Jesus’ ministry that made the other Gospels look like Sunday School stuff – actually, it was the other Synoptics; like Carroll, he saw John as the other Gospel that challenged conventional assumptions. Unfortunately, I didn’t get what he was on about at all. Mark just seemed shorter than the others to me. But Carroll’s book has certainly shown me what BL may have been talking about.
I was startled to find that Carroll is not a practicing Christian. Yet he has lavished an astonishing amount of work on this book. I too am not a practicing Christian. At least not from the perspective of people who call themselves practicing Christians. I was until J-P II declared (more or less) that gay people are kidding themselves if they think they are Christians. Reading Carroll’s book makes me suspect that choosing to accept JP IIs definition of what is, or is not, Christian was the right one. On the other hand, I have also been reading the theologian James Alison who is gay and Christian. His work http://www.jamesalison.co.uk/texts/eng52.html has stirred me too, but quite differently to Carroll’s. One of his messages, if it can be summed up in a (colloquial) sentence is Don’t let the bastards tell you who you are. I must say I jump for joy when I read his stuff. But I also feel deeply motivated by Carroll’s messages: 1) If you are any sort of being you have a right (responsibility) to participate in the mystery of being. 2) There is a role for church – in social justice (anything else – such as presuming to define the nature of God and presuming to control the keys of the kingdom of heaven – is atavism). At least that is what I think he’s saying.
Towards the end of the book he say that there are two gifts: touch and story telling. And at the end of chapter 11 he ask What does it mean to tell a story? How can John’s particular achievement be generalised to other human beings living their very different lives? He go on to say Retell the story from yourself, from within your own particular being emerging from the shadows… I can’t tell you how much that means to me. I am about to embark on a project in which I hope to explore aspects of the Jesus story without ever mentioning his name (more on this below). Something else Carroll said reinforces (if not legitimises) that goal: somewhere in the book he said that it is not actually Jesus but his story that matters. (I think Paul of Tarsus would certainly endorse this.) Well, I’m not sure he put it quite as bluntly as that, but I think the sense of it was that Jesus is the exemplar of participation in the mystery of being but not the mystery itself – he demonstrates the journey but is not the destination. And he illustrate that by his discussion of Mary Magdalene who, by not clinging to Jesus, “becomes” him (the word becomes having two meanings, the actions of which are indispensable to each other).
As you would expect, Judas plays a significant role in Carroll’s telling of the story. He says Judas is the archetype of “I am not!” Carroll effectively endorses the Calvinist doctrine of predestination. So I wondered what he thought about Francis Moloney’s collaboration with Jeffrey Archer in writing The Gospel According to Judas, in which Judas does not commit suicide, but fades into quiet obscurity, leaving it to his son (I think) to tell his story.
I have to say that Judas has always been a puzzle to me. Nothing I have ever read about him convinces me that he is not a hapless victim. Not even Carroll’s account. Especially Carroll’s account. It is the one part of his book that I will have to re-read, and possibly re-re-read…. I cannot come at predestination. If he is right then Judas was not just a hapless victim, but someone with a good case against God! ( Have you seen the movie YThe man who sued God?) Maybe this simply reflects the limitation of my mind. I am not God and therefore cannot know the mind of God – as Job patiently points out.
I do however, see some way forward in something else he says in his book. He deals with the life of Jesus as story – as distinct from his story oops, I mean history. He can talk about Jesus dancing on the water without being bothered with whether or not he could actually do such a thing. What matters is how the incident works as story – not how it may have been possible. (He is scathing about the search for the historical Jesus.) If this is so, then maybe doctrine works in a similar way. Predestination is not necessarily a fact but a … a … what? A concept that works in the psyche or the unconscious to get a result that cannot possibly be got by calculating weight, distance, angle of refraction, specific gravity….
His account of Pontius Pilate, on the other hand had me cheering and dancing. I have never been able to stomach the sneering contempt of church people for this man. As a student of history I have always suspected that the Roman Governor of one of the most difficult provinces in the empire could not possibly be the venal sook he is made out to be in sermons and 1950s movies. And I was just bowled over a discussion about Billy Budd – the one opera that actually made me cry – with outrage!! (I didn’t know it was a novella by Herman Melville.) Suddenly I see Captain Vere in a very different light, and I am so glad to have a framework within which to imagine Pilate and other leaders – not to mention “enemies”.
Having got to this point I have to try to draw what I’m saying together. Let’s just say that I can’t believe it’s not butter. You know, I bet George Pell and his ilk have condescending things to say about Carroll and his work. They would regard Raymond E Brown as butter. Well, I can’t believe Carroll’s not butter – maybe even better. His reference to art from Greek tragedies to Benjamin Britten is awesome. He is attributing to people a role in the ongoing telling (retelling) of the story on an immensely enlarged scale. He shows how we are involved whether we intend to be or not.
Even if you have no interest in religion in general, and Christianity in particular, I believe you would find this book disturbingly engaging. Trust me on this. And if I’m wrong, sue me.
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