The ‘Gospel’ Of Judas?

The highly publicised airing by National Geographic Channel about the so-called Gospel of Judas is the usual stuff Christians have come to expect around Easter. There’s always easy publicity for someone claiming scholarly debunking of traditional beliefs.

We don’t have digital or cable TV, so I cannot see the programme. But there is at least a partial translation of the document here. Reading it makes it equally easy to see why the document would have been rejected by early church leaders. It is contradictory not simply to basic Christian claims, but to the Jewish roots of the Christian faith. Like any Gnostic text it assumes that matter is evil – far from the Jewish belief in a good creation, so robustly celebrated in the festivals. Where it is at odds with conventional Christianity is in another classic Gnostic trait – that salvation is by secret knowledge revealed to an elite.  In contrast the Christian faith is that God has made salvation what Lesslie Newbigin called ‘the open secret’ – it is available to all and sundry, the poor as much (if not more than) the rich. Elitism feeds the ego and is in direct opposition to a message based on undeserved grace.

So far, so easy to debunk. But we must look deeper. I have two observations in particular. The first is that while as Christians we are right to take apart a Gnostic document like this we should also confess just how Gnostic our behaviour has been in practice. We have elevated the soul and denigrated the body – just listen to the way people at the time of a death say that the body was just a shell for the true person. Yet it is not only the doctrine of creation that reminds us of God’s positive interest in the material world, it is also the doctrine of the bodily resurrection. At Easter many of us make a cogent apologetic case for the resurrection being bodily – that there is strong historical evidence for it and that when Paul speaks of the ‘spiritual body’ he means a body animated by the Spirit.

We are also probably guilty of something akin to the Gnostic elitism of secret knowledge. We keep the Gospel to ourselves (for various reasons). We come across with a terrible smug, superior tone, forgetting the words of Daniel T Niles that ‘evangelism is one beggar telling another beggar where to find bread’. To listen to many of us is to think that we have forgotten our utter dependence upon grace.

My second concern is this: debunking this pseudo-scholarly nonsense is important but insufficient on its own. Somehow it doesn’t seem to achieve the apologetic goal of convincing people about the truth of Christ, as we believe him to be. Take current Christian responses to Dan Brown’s The Da Vinci Code: we have publications such as The Books The Church Suppressed by Michael Green, Cracking The Da Vinci Code by Mark Stibbe (complete with scratchcard) and Exploring The Da Vinci Code by Lee Strobel and Gary Poole. All are no doubt cogent arguments, given the undoubted pedigree of the authors. But we are used to opposing parties in arguments issuing rebuttals: look at the way political parties having instant rebuttal units operating during General Election campaigns. Worthy historical arguments run the risk of just getting the ‘Whatever’ response.

I was more encouraged to read about Steve Hollinghurst’s recent Grove book Coded Messages: Evangelism and the Da Vinci Code. The following quote from the publicity blurb makes a lot of sense:

Why another book on the Da Vinci Code? Other books analyse the
historical or geographical inaccuracies and theological errors, but
these are not arguments which will sway most of those influenced by the
book.

This study looks instead at how the book taps into a conspiracy culture
which distrusts authority and organised religion. It explores how
discussion about the book can best be used to build bridges, and how to
set up an effective event to which to invite people.

And there’s the task, and it’s a much bigger one than the conventional apologetic: it’s one that requires our apologetic to be flesh and blood. In their book The Responsive Church Nick Spencer and Graham Tomlin provide some analysis and proposals for Christian responses to non-Christian thoughts and perceptions about Christians and Christianity. They note there is a widespread hostility to an abstract picture of what Christians are: ‘patronizing, desperate for support, colourless, begging for money, misfits, goody two-shoes, [and] holier than thou’ (p 89). But to their surprise it all changes when they meet real-life Christians. One says:

We’ve got neighbours like that. I don’t know what religion they follow, but they live for it, and the children, literally … they are really, really nice people and, actually, thinking back when she had a baby recently, the gifts and the food, you know, visitors they had, unbelievable. Unbelievable, they were queueing at the door. (ibid.)

Another speaks of receiving unconditional love and support from a local Baptist church when his wife was ill (p 90).

Our apologetic still requires our brains. But our brains must be in partnership with our hands and our feet.

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The ‘Gospel’ Of Judas?

The highly publicised airing by National Geographic Channel about the so-called Gospel of Judas is the usual stuff Christians have come to expect around Easter. There’s always easy publicity for someone claiming scholarly debunking of traditional beliefs.

We don’t have digital or cable TV, so I cannot see the programme. But there is at least a partial translation of the document here. Reading it makes it equally easy to see why the document would have been rejected by early church leaders. It is contradictory not simply to basic Christian claims, but to the Jewish roots of the Christian faith. Like any Gnostic text it assumes that matter is evil – far from the Jewish belief in a good creation, so robustly celebrated in the festivals. Where it is at odds with conventional Christianity is in another classic Gnostic trait – that salvation is by secret knowledge revealed to an elite.  In contrast the Christian faith is that God has made salvation what Lesslie Newbigin called ‘the open secret’ – it is available to all and sundry, the poor as much (if not more than) the rich. Elitism feeds the ego and is in direct opposition to a message based on undeserved grace.

So far, so easy to debunk. But we must look deeper. I have two observations in particular. The first is that while as Christians we are right to take apart a Gnostic document like this we should also confess just how Gnostic our behaviour has been in practice. We have elevated the soul and denigrated the body – just listen to the way people at the time of a death say that the body was just a shell for the true person. Yet it is not only the doctrine of creation that reminds us of God’s positive interest in the material world, it is also the doctrine of the bodily resurrection. At Easter many of us make a cogent apologetic case for the resurrection being bodily – that there is strong historical evidence for it and that when Paul speaks of the ‘spiritual body’ he means a body animated by the Spirit.

We are also probably guilty of something akin to the Gnostic elitism of secret knowledge. We keep the Gospel to ourselves (for various reasons). We come across with a terrible smug, superior tone, forgetting the words of Daniel T Niles that ‘evangelism is one beggar telling another beggar where to find bread’. To listen to many of us is to think that we have forgotten our utter dependence upon grace.

My second concern is this: debunking this pseudo-scholarly nonsense is important but insufficient on its own. Somehow it doesn’t seem to achieve the apologetic goal of convincing people about the truth of Christ, as we believe him to be. Take current Christian responses to Dan Brown’s The Da Vinci Code: we have publications such as The Books The Church Suppressed by Michael Green, Cracking The Da Vinci Code by Mark Stibbe (complete with scratchcard) and Exploring The Da Vinci Code by Lee Strobel and Gary Poole. All are no doubt cogent arguments, given the undoubted pedigree of the authors. But we are used to opposing parties in arguments issuing rebuttals: look at the way political parties having instant rebuttal units operating during General Election campaigns. Worthy historical arguments run the risk of just getting the ‘Whatever’ response.

I was more encouraged to read about Steve Hollinghurst’s recent Grove book Coded Messages: Evangelism and the Da Vinci Code. The following quote from the publicity blurb makes a lot of sense:

Why another book on the Da Vinci Code? Other books analyse the
historical or geographical inaccuracies and theological errors, but
these are not arguments which will sway most of those influenced by the
book.

This study looks instead at how the book taps into a conspiracy culture
which distrusts authority and organised religion. It explores how
discussion about the book can best be used to build bridges, and how to
set up an effective event to which to invite people.

And there’s the task, and it’s a much bigger one than the conventional apologetic: it’s one that requires our apologetic to be flesh and blood. In their book The Responsive Church Nick Spencer and Graham Tomlin provide some analysis and proposals for Christian responses to non-Christian thoughts and perceptions about Christians and Christianity. They note there is a widespread hostility to an abstract picture of what Christians are: ‘patronizing, desperate for support, colourless, begging for money, misfits, goody two-shoes, [and] holier than thou’ (p 89). But to their surprise it all changes when they meet real-life Christians. One says:

We’ve got neighbours like that. I don’t know what religion they follow, but they live for it, and the children, literally … they are really, really nice people and, actually, thinking back when she had a baby recently, the gifts and the food, you know, visitors they had, unbelievable. Unbelievable, they were queueing at the door. (ibid.)

Another speaks of receiving unconditional love and support from a local Baptist church when his wife was ill (p 90).

Our apologetic still requires our brains. But our brains must be in partnership with our hands and our feet.

Technorati Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Why Do Heathens Make The Best Christian Films?

Just found this article. It has lots of applications for people in all sorts of artistic and cultural fields. It’s not a perfect article (surprise – and read one or two of the comments posted) but it’s outstanding. It emphasises the importance of metaphor (Show, don’t tell) and makes a good case for why film directors with a Catholic background are better suited to movie-making (they understand iconography, whereas evangelical Protestants are so into the ‘word’ that their work risks degenerating into propaganda).

Here’s the link:

Why Do Heathens Make the Best Christian Films?, by Thom Parham

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The Subversion Of Coronation Street

I am no Coronation Street fan. In fact, I’d say I was allergic to soaps. But this story in the Mail On Sunday heartened this Tottenham Hotspur supporter: apparently the current producer is a Spurs fan and has included all sorts of references to the Lillywhites in the Manchester-based soap.

Well, as someone who trained for the ministry in Manchester and endured all sorts of prejudice there because he was a Londoner, it’s nice to see this happening.

Oh, whoops, sorry, I’m a Christian. I remember: I should forgive.

Barney The Dinosaur, The Myth Of Progress and Holiness

One of the, er, pleasures of being a parent to tiny children is the current devotion to Barney The Purple Dinosaur videos. The current favourite on heavy rotation is Barney’s Good Day, Good Night. Much of it is harmless fun and subtly educational, encouraging good behaviour mixed with a lot of gentle demythologisation (there isn’t a man in the moon and there are no such things as ghosts).

It also contains a song about how children are growing every day. One interesting line thrown in is how they are all growing friendlier day by day. A quick Christian retort to this would be that this involves a lot of post-Enlightenment mythologisation – the myth of progress, to be exact, and that this is totally inadequate. As one teacher put it, “Anybody who doubts the doctrine of original sin hasn’t taught a class of five-year-olds”.

But maybe there is more at stake here. The line also sits with values in the videos where goodness is taught by presenting virtually faultless children. Perhaps the producers don’t want to induce negative copycat behaviour. But it reminded me how refreshing it is that the Bible paints most of its heroes, warts and all. Only one is presented as perfect, and yes, by the power of the Holy Spirit we are to imitate him. Which is more realistic, the values of Barney or the Bible?

Banning the Make Poverty History TV Ad

OFCOM, the regulatory quango, has banned the Make Poverty History TV ad, with celebrities clicking their fingers every three seconds to mark the death of another child. You can read their decision here.

Various sponsoring bodies of MPH are furious. (And you’ll have noticed from the banner on this blog that I support the campaign.) Ekklesia has condemned the decision as effectively partisan: why is it OK to ban MPH from TV commercials on political grounds but not those companies whose products cause the very problems MPH is campaigning against? Anthea Cox of the Methodist Church points out that decisions on poverty are necessarily political and involvement in the campaign by Christians has been a direct consequence of their faith.

All of which means the MPH ads are banned on the old grounds of religion and politics. You’re not supposed to talk about them in public if you’re British. Or so the theory goes.

OFCOM argues that MPH’s goals are ‘wholly or mainly political’ and maybe they are, but as Anthea Cox replies above, how can you avoid that? Furthermore, they say the commercial was directed towards influencing government policy and that’s against the relevant codes. Right. So it’s OK for a multinational to shell out money to send people to talk directly to Downing Street but you mustn’t do it on air.

OFCOM may or may not be applying the rules accurately but doesn’t the whole sorry affair stink of hypocrisy? In particular it’s the hypocrisy that keeps the rich wealthy and the poor destitute – the very things MPH opposes. Who wrote those rules, then? I wonder.

The Media: Public Interest and Common Good

The Archbishop of Canterbury’s speech yesterday of the above title has certainly put the cat among the pigeons. Here are one or two thoughts I had on it:

The Archbishop (or henceforth the ABC) probes the issue of journalism and secrecy. He quotes the question that has sometimes been attributed rightly or wrongly to Jeremy Paxman, “Why is this bastard lying to me?”. But he points out that not all secrecy is sinister. We wouldn’t want certain things about ourselves that are rightly kept private made public. So he wants a more sensitive approach to the old ‘public interest’ defence that journalists employ.

Well, quite right, too, and as a minister I know only too well the issue of confidences that must be kept. I only wish that Rowan Williams had at this point applied his ‘brain the size of a planet’ to the question of why we have got into this situation. What about examining the postmodern ‘hermeneutic of suspicion’ at this point, the whole difficulty in pomo thinking about truth and power? That would have illuminated a very worthwhile speech.

Also suffering too much from brevity is the section on weblogs. He notes the positive use of blogs to provide quick and necessary rebuttals but sees them as purely ephemeral with no notion of posterity, and often full of wild, unchecked comments and bigotry. Well, there is some truth in this, of course. But the issue of the ephemeral is contentious: are not we bloggers typing our online journals? The Christian spiritual tradition knows much about ‘journalling’, and it is often a very positive reflective process. Granted, in the blogosphere we have to contend with ‘information overload’, but blogging could be the place where the reflective approach begins in our media.

Which neatly brings me on to something else the ABC says. He has a very useful section in the speech where he bewails the contemporary media emphasis on ‘urgency’ with its concomitant features of ‘breaking news’ and ‘instant comments’. He notes how this can marginalise religion, which does not always display ‘urgent’ qualities. So it was difficult for 24-hour news channels to cope with the last days of Pope John Paul II’s life. I would just add that ‘urgency’ has other dangers, too, not least with the phenomenon of ‘instant comments’. Do we not more often need considered reflection? In which case we come back to my argument above about the reflective use of blogs, but it is not limited to blogging.

Having said all that, go read the speech. It’s excellent. In summary I think I’m just saying I wish he had taken his thoughts further and deeper.

The BBC And Religious Broadcasting

The Director-General of the BBC has said some interesting and provocative things about religious broadcasting (see Ekklesia News report here). Here’s a call for creative involvement: sounds like an invitation to incarnation to me, and to use the arts as arts, not as propaganda.

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