I finally finished reading Benedict XVI’s latest book, Jesus of Nazareth: Holy Week: From the Entrance into Jerusalem to the Resurrection. This is the second (and last?) part of the series he began in 2007 with Jesus of Nazareth: From the Baptism in the Jordan to the Transfiguration. Here are my top four thoughts after having finished:
(1) There is some truly beautiful theology in here, particularly Benedict’s reflections on the Mass and Jesus’ footwashing, on Jesus’ identification with all of the oppressed throughout history (this looked to me like an olive branch extended to liberation theology), and on the atonement. But I’m going to write about this in a follow-up post, because I wrote #2, 3, and 4 first, and now the post is already too long. That’s also why this post is disproportionately critical.
(2) Look elsewhere for hermeneutics. Even though the relationship between historical criticism and theological readings of the bible is a focus of the book, Benedict doesn’t really engage anybody who’s spent their career writing on this topic (e.g., James Barr, John Barton, Ben Meyer, Sandra Schneiders.) In fact, he doesn’t really engage anybody who’s written in the last three decades. This is unfortunate because one gets the feeling that Benedict thinks that “The Historical-Critical Approach” (as exemplified by Bultmann–seriously, he’s on like every other page) is what critical biblical scholarship is these days. But that’s just not the case anymore. In fact, Benedict might (though I doubt it) find some friends in post-modern criticism, which also wants to see historical criticism dethroned. So basically, I couldn’t agree more with Prof. Ben Witherington (whose assessment of the book was very positive):
My one desiderata or wish for this book is I do wish that the Pope had been able to interact more with the last 30 or so years of biblical scholarship in this book because he is basically interacting with scholars from the fifties, the sixties, the seventies primarily, including my doctor father, C.K. Barrett with whom I was very pleased shows up in various places in this book, but I understand he’s been more than a little busy the last few years.
The lack of attention to more recent work in biblical interpretation is also unfortunate because though Benedict’s goal is to combine “a properly developed faith-hermeneutic…with a historical hermeneutic, aware of its limitations, so as to form a methodological whole” (xv), his approach tends to combine them only insofar as they are easily combined; when historical data and theological claims don’t line up, he jettisons the historical approach and opts for whatever theological interpretation he [already] finds most fitting, remarking [conveniently] that historical reconstructions “can only ever be posited with a greater or lesser degree of probability, not with total clarity” (122).
Of course, actually everybody does this; everybody favors interpretations on grounds other than those of “what the data says.” That’s not news, and it’s not bad. What puzzles me is why Benedict doesn’t address this inconsistency, since it is usually the jumping-off point for discussions of biblical hermeneutics. Why does Benedict use the findings of historical criticism to defend theological points in one case, but dismiss them in the other, while giving no real explanation for that inconsistency? Instead of using such instances as opportunities for deeper reflections on the nature of texts as revelation, as Barr, Barton, and Meyer did, Benedict just asserts interpretations without grappling seriously with the interpretations he opposes. (And let me say now as a side remark, I think this “hermeneutic of faith” thing that arises every so often in Catholic writing these days is an empty phrase. I have never seen it interrogated rigorously by those who promote it, and I don’t see how it amounts to anything other than the mirror image of what the “hermeneutic of suspicion” is commonly thought to be. But also, I don’t recall it being used in the present book.)
(3) “Historical” Problems. Along with #2, perhaps another result of this book’s limited bibliography is what it says about early Christian history, literature, and “environment,” especially as that environment includes Judaism. It is too bad, for example, that Benedict accepts Joachim Jeremias’s claim that Jesus’ calling God abba is without precedent in Jewish literature and that abba indicates a unique, child-parent intimacy between Jesus and God (161-162). Both of those claims have been strongly challenged in the last thirty years, and scholars have rightly noted the implicit anti-Jewish sentiment in such a view. (See James Barr’s “‘Abba isn’t ‘Daddy’” (Journal of Theological Studies 39 [1988]) and Mary Rose D’Angelo’s excellent piece, “Abba and ‘Father’: Imperial Theology and the Jesus Traditions” (Journal of Biblical Literature 111:4 [1992]).)
Or that Benedict accepts the faith-versus-works dichotomy (237) for understanding Paul’s thought, an approach that was seriously called into question in the late 1970s and following by the “New Perspective” (which is rather ironic, since historically the faith-works dichotomy involved more than a little anti-Catholic protestant polemic!). Or Benedict’s strange claim that there “were no grounds” for the claim that “the Gospels presented [Jesus] in an increasingly positive light out of a politically motivated pro-Roman tendency and that they shifted the blame for Jesus’ death more and more onto the Jews” (188). Against this consensus claim, Benedict argues that
“by the time the Gospels were written, Nero’s persecution had already revealed the cruel side of the Roman state and the great arbitrariness of imperial power. If we may date the book of Revelation to approximately the same period as John’s gospel, then it is clear that the Fourth Gospel did not come to be written in a context that could have given rise to a pro-Roman stance” (188).
There are all kinds of problems here, such as the simplistic “pro-Roman”/”anti-Roman” scheme (as if it were possible to simply stand “outside” of Romanness and either be for it or against it), the existence of many “pro-Roman” verses of the NT, the assumption that “the context” of NT writings was uniform, and the fact that within two generations, the apologists are writing incredibly “pro-Roman” treatises arguing that Christians were the best Romans. Witherington is right–Benedict has not been “in” the academy since the late 70s and hasn’t exactly had much free time, so he can hardly be blamed for not staying up to date on scholarship that is technically outside his field. But attention to more recent scholarship–particularly because so much of it tends to be critical of the assumptions of Benedict’s era and geographical area–would have been helpful, especially given Benedict’s rocky PR relationship with Judaism.
(4) Not-So-Good News for Jewish-Christian Dialogue. For the last few weeks, the media has been jazzed that “Pope Exonerates Jews for Jesus’ Death in New Book.” Well that’s comforting. But that’s not news. Nostra Aetate did that almost fifty years ago. But despite upholding Vatican II on that point, I don’t think the book is as Jewish-friendly as the headlines suggest. In fact, I think it’s very anti-Jewish, though not in a way that Benedict intends or is probably even conscious of. To put it succinctly, Benedict’s new book is to Jews as Mulieris Dignitatem is to women. Really.
On the one hand, there is no ill-will in it and it represents a real step forward. Benedict genuinely wants to show that blaming Jesus’ death on “the Jews” is indefensible, just as JPII genuinely wanted to show that abuse of women was indefensible. But on the other hand, such treatment of Jews and women is logically and has been historically enabled by the very assumptions that undergird these texts. Just as the oppression of women depends on the beliefs that they are derivative of men, inherently sexual, inherently “maternal,” weaker and in need of protection and guidance by men, etc., so too has the oppression of Jews by Christians (and that’s really what makes this so troubling) depended on the claim that Judaism is inferior to Christianity, that Jews are more primitive, less spiritually or philosophically refined than Christians (see esp. Chapter 3 of Benedict’s 1968 Introduction to Christianity for this view), and that Jesus’ uniqueness and efficacy depends upon an ontological lack, or error, present in Judaism and expressed particularly through its ritual systems of purity and sacrifice. (Another thing that both of these discourses have in common is that they don’t actually listen to their subjects: the voices of real women and real Jews are absent in favor of “the Feminine Genius” and “Judaism” as viewed within the totality of a male world and a Christian theology.)
The inadequacy of animal sacrifices and the superiority of more spiritualized worship, i.e., obedience, prayer, and ultimately the eucharist, is argued throughout the book. Benedict endorses, for instance, John’s highlighting of the “contradiction between the scrupulous [hello, Catholic lingo!] attitude to regulations for cultic purity [of the Jews] and the real question of inner purity: it simply does not occur to Jesus’ accusers that impurity does not come from entering a Gentile house, but rather from the inner disposition of the heart” (184). And you could certainly say that the superiority of “spiritual” worship over actual Jewish worship is a valid Christian theological position; indeed, it’s the position of the Letter to the Hebrews and of most of the apologists. But that Benedict doesn’t show any awareness that this position is related to the deicide charge (he seems to think the charge is just an “absurdity,” which is not an explanation at all) or the last two millennia of Christian violence against Jews is worrisome. You’d think he’d be a little more concerned, as a German Christian theologian, pope, and head of state, to address the ways that Christian discourse about Judaism has hurt real Jews in history.
Plus, the “exoneration” that Benedict gives to the Jews with one hand (185), he takes away with the other. According to Benedict, “from the point of view of the Roman juridical and political order, which fell under [Pilate's] competence, there was nothing serious to hold against Jesus” (189); “in John 18:34-35 it is clearly stated that, on the basis of the information in his possession, Pilate had nothing that would incriminate Jesus. Nothing had come to the knowledge of the Roman authority that could in any way have posed a risk to law and order” (189). First of all, why is Benedict even taking John at his word, given how differently Pilate is portrayed in that gospel versus in the others and given the disproportionate negative attention John gives to “the Jews”? But secondly, aside from the fact that crucifixion was the Roman penalty for sedition, why would Benedict want to exonerate “Rome”–the same Rome whose power he describes as arbitrary and cruel (188)? I found this chapter (7) very odd in how sympathetic it is to Pilate. Benedict concludes that
“ultimately it was the pragmatic concept of law that won the day with him: more important than the truth of this case, he probably reasoned, is the peace-building role of law, and in this way he doubtless justified his action to himself. Releasing this innocent man could not only cause him personal damage–and such fear was certainly a decisive factor behind his action–it could also give rise to further disturbances and unrest, which had to be avoided at all costs, especially at the time of the Passover. In this case peace counted for more than justice in Pilate’s eyes” (200-201).
First, what’s up with this opposition between “the truth of this case” and “the peace-building role of the law,” between “peace” and “justice”? Does Benedict intend this as a more general commentary on society and governance today, and if so, in what way? Second, Pilate is portrayed as a tragic figure in his decision to have Jesus executed. Compare that with the Jews–or rather, the “Temple aristocracy”–whose desire to have Jesus executed stems not from any noble concern for the common good, but from their “scrupulous” legalism and blindness to the message of God. They’re not tragic; they’re stupid and evil.
Well, this post is long enough now. I wish I had written it after reading a book that I have to read in a few weeks, Jonathan Klawans’s Purity, Sacrifice, and the Temple: Symbolism and Supercessionism in the Study of Ancient Judaism, since it looks like it is a response to books just like Benedict’s. Maybe I will do another post after reading it.
Thanks for this review, Sonja. I’d be REALLY interested to hear your thoughts after reading Klawans’ book–I haven’t read that one, but I think his earlier work is really onto something. (Or at least, I did when I first read it 4 years ago.)
Reading the bit about Abba/Father, I also had an incredibly clear vision of you seething with rage when this came up in a mutual class with a professor whose name I will not mention. Good times?
Haha, yes, I am not a fan of the Abba argument. Besides implying some pretty bad stuff about Judaism, it’s not even a solid theological/historical argument! From a Christian point of view, Jesus is consubstantial with the Father. So of COURSE he had a unique intimacy with God, REGARDLESS of whether or not he called God this or that title. In fact, even if every single Jew up to the first century had called God “Abba,” you could still argue that Jesus used the term in a unique way, because he meant by it something that no other person could have.
Interesting review. I’ve been meaning to read this book, and I will definitely keep your thoughts in mind as I do. Yours is not a perspective I usually read from.
Thanks for this excellent and helpful review/critique. The complex apology for Pilate is especially worrisome coming from his position — not sure if it’s the apology itself or the tone deaf-ness that is more worrisome.
Thanks, Brad. I noticed from your link that you’re one of the incoming doctoral students for Yale this year. Congrats! I will see you on March 30th!
Oh wow! I had no idea you were at Yale. I’ve always generalized WIT to Notre Dame, though I knew it included other schools. Wonderful — I’ve followed WIT for a while, so now I feel like I have a (however tiny) point of contact with the program at Yale. See you in a couple weeks!
But anyway, yes, I’m not sure what to think of this “apology” for Pilate. Is it there just because Benedict is most closely following the gospel of John, as opposed to the other gospels, in this book? Or is this indicative of a more generally sympathetic stance towards Rome? On the one hand, I don’t think it would be right to say that Benedict is thinking Ancient Rome–>Roman Catholic Church, but he does seem to admire Rome in an abstract sense, maybe in the same way that he admires “Greek philosophy” but not Greek polytheism. On the other hand, see this curious comment on Roman law:
“So the Barabbas party, the ‘crowd’, was conspicuous, while the followers of Jesus remained hidden out of fear; this meant that the vox populi, on which Roman law was built, was represented one-sidedly. In Mark’s account, then, in addition to ‘the Jews’, that is to say the dominant priestly circle, the ochlos comes into play, the circle of Barabbas’ supporters, but not the Jewish people as such” (186).
The fact that it was Roman law that released Barabbas instead of Jesus is said by Benedict to be a result not of Roman law itself, but of the makeup of the crowd. Roman law gets exonerated. Why? Why is it so important to show that Roman law is good and wasn’t what actually killed Jesus? Is it because canon law is historically modeled on Roman law? I feel shady even saying that, but I can’t think up another good explanation.
Thanks for the link.
“Benedict’s new book is to Jews as Mulieris Dignitatem is to women.” …. yikes!
What he has to say about Pilate is strange. I’d read, I think, that Philo and Josephus show Pilate as really brutal and ruthless. It’s as if Benedict is part of that weird tradition that almost made Pilate a saint.
He does know about Josephus and Philo:
While Flavius Josephus and especially Philo of Alexandria paint a rather negative picture of him, other sources portray him as decisive, pragmatic, and realistic. … The image of Pilate in the Gospels presents the Roman Prefect quite realistically as a man who could be brutal when he judged this to be in the interests of public order” (188).
So maybe the “defense” of Pilate is really just a defense of the gospel of John as historically accurate? That seems to be what’s going on as well when Benedict exonerates the Jews. Instead of saying (as I would) that the author of John is just plain pissed off at those he considers “the Jews,” and that we cannot, as Christians, adopt that stance, Benedict says that oi ioudaioi actually has a specific meaning: the temple aristocracy. Thus, Benedict doesn’t have to deal with the possibility that the fourth evangelist was, well, “less than ethical;” he was simply using technical terminology.
Oh, i see an excerpt of this part can be found at the Insight Scoop – http://insightscoop.typepad.com/2004/2011/03/jesus-before-pilate-an-excerpt-from-jesus-of-nazareth-part-two.html
He doesn’t cite the “other sources”?
No, he doesn’t. But the next paragraph talks only about the gospels, specifically the gospel of John, so I’m assuming that he means by “other sources” the gospels.
A few days ago I was going back over notes for exams. The Vorgrimler commentary on Nostra Aetate, written by John Oesterreicher, one of its primary drafters, has extensive sections on the frustration experienced by the drafters of NA that the press used expressions such as “Vatican exonerates the Jews” in describing NA’s repudiation of the deicide charge–rather than making it clear that the deicide charge has always been absolutely false. And it’s 46 years later, and still using false language to suggest that Christians are in a position to forgive Jews for… enduring centuries of prejudice and violence spurred on by Christian slander.
Sigh.
And Jeremias? REALLY?
I found the Oesterreicher quote. I think it’s sadly still pretty indicative of some of the coverage of this aspect of the book:
Thanks for that quote, Bridget. That’s great. I’m sad to say that I’m shocked that anything so level-headed and “aware” ever came out of the Vatican, especially regarding the Jews. But yes, this is an especially bad media blunder. (I remember when there were headlines about how “Pope adds road-rage to list of sins” and then the body of the articles would imply that The List of Sins=10 commandments.)
Sonja, thank you very much for this great review that captures some very weak points of the book (and, since I am here, thanks to all the other fellow bloggers for their always penetrating, inspiring, and enjoyable pieces).
If I may add something, I have a thought about the very problematic treatment of Pilate. I think there is more in it than the defense of John’s historical reliability (even though that seems to be a concern). The section contains a long development on power and truth that really has a primarily theologico-political goal. Paradoxically, as you noted for some of the anti-Jewish elements, it seems that Ratzinger is operating within the traditionally lutheran scheme of the two kingdoms. You may not know about this (since the attitude of the church here in the US appears far more restraint), but this is quite clear if one looks at the political influence that Ratzinger tries to exert, for instance, in Italy. The political authority has the function of preserving social order and ethical considerations have a very relative bearing on the judgment of its actions. I do not have to elaborate on the consequences of such an approach on the relationship between the church and, for instance, the discourse of imperialism.
Thanks again!
Thanks for your insight, Giovanni! I really don’t know anything about the influence Benedict tries to exert in Italy, but the strange digression in the section on Pilate about justice versus peace-building, and truth versus pragmatism made me suspect that there was some kind of political commentary going on. Could you say more about how this has been playing out in Italy?
Sonja, I see you found out: please, call me Giovanni.
I realize I owe you a few more words about the Italian situation: I apologize for this belated reply, but the last week has been quite hectic.
I see that one of the other commentators speaks about Ratzinger’s hostility towards “pragmatism”, but I think this must be qualified. Ratzinger opposes relativism when the church official teaching in matters of dogma and morals are at stake, but the attitude towards secular government is very different (and, I suggest, this makes sense of his treatment of Pilate). Political authorities enjoy a much wider leeway as long as their activity upholds those principles that are defined as non-negotiable or pertain to natural law.
Again, let me give you only a couple of examples taken from the most recent relationship between the Vatican and Berlusconi. You may know that Berlusconi has admitted to have had sexual relationships with prostitutes (some of them apparently underage). The comment, coming from the president of the Italian conference of bishops, has been that these facts should not have been brought to public awareness because they damage the stability of the government in a difficult time period for the country (in the last few weeks Berlusconi has been pushing very hard to pass a new and very restrictive end-of-life care law that has been practically written by the Italian conference of bishops).
I could give you other examples: for instance, the absolute silence of the Vatican on the current Libyan war, which is admittedly due also to the fact that the president of the bishops’ conference is actually a general in the Italian army (this makes for a nice accompaniment to Katie’s very nice post on the church and militarism). But I think that the point should be clear by now.
Thanks again!
That is very interesting. And yes, that’s in marked contrast to how the US bishops tend to behave. I’m thinking, e.g., of the recent fuss over whether NY Governor Andrew Cuomo should be denied communion because he lives with his girlfriend, not to mention the several other stories of bishops denying communion to pro-choice politicians (Egan, Burke, Chaput, Wenski, etc.): http://www.nytimes.com/2011/02/23/nyregion/23vatican.html
I had no idea that the president of the Italian Bishops’ Conference held military rank; that is really shocking.
Thanks for the insight!
Oops, I just looked at your email address. What I meant to say was, “Thanks for your insight, Professor Bazzana.” I’m glad you enjoy the blog!
This is just a minor point. But I’m pretty sure that Ratzinger is no fan of pragmatism, it being a species of the cultural relativism that he strenuously critiques throughout his work. So while I agree with you on the troubling aspects of his discussion of Pilate, I wonder if Ratzinger’s description of him as a pragmatist might be more of a criticism than initially appears to be the case.
Good point, K. Patrick. I agree that he means the pragmatist thing as a critique, but it struck me that, compared to the Jews, Pilate was still coming out as a kind of tragic figure whose intentions were good. But yes, I think you are totally right on seeing Ratzinger’s usual criticism of pragmatism in that chapter.
[...] through Pope Benedict XVI’s newest Jesus of Nazareth book. I raised some questions in an earlier post about the book’s consistent emphasis on the inadequacy of the Jewish cult and its supposed [...]
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