THE
GOSPEL OF JUDAS
The
first time I heard of the Gospel of Judas was about five years
ago, when I got a call from someone who said, I have a book for
you to edit—the Gospel of Judas. That astonished me, since
I knew that the "church father" Irenaeus had mentioned
such a gospel nearly 2000 years ago, denouncing it as terrible
blasphemy: but no one had ever seen it, or known whether it actually
existed.
But this
dealer in Cleveland was telling me he had it there. Was he telling
the truth? I called the Met, the Getty, and the Frist to ask about
him, and they told me that he is a reputable dealer who
has important material—but when I called back he suddenly stopped
answering the phone. I realized then what already had seemed likely—that
the book had been stolen from Egypt, and could not be legally sold.
I located
a man who often bought rare books from this dealer, and who also
has given many of them to Princeton, hoping that he might buy
the Gospel of Judas, give it to Princeton, and then return it formally
to Egypt, which would legalize the arrangement. Then we could photograph
and publish it—that was the plan.
So I went
to Madison Square Garden to meet the dealer, and confronted him: "I'm
Elaine Pagels, why won't you talk to me?" Startled, he explained
what we had suspected—that the owner of the text had told him
not to talk about it, since it had been bought illegally. He then
invited me out to Cleveland to see it, and I went, and looked at
it. And there was the title—"The Gospel of Judas" in
Coptic—and then he showed me the following five pages—which
turned out to be five pages of rather uninteresting Coptic text.
So I said, Okay, well, they've hyped it, they were hoping to get
fifteen million dollars—it's not what they said.
But when
suddenly it resurfaced last year, and I was asked to be on the advisory
committee presenting it publicly, I learned what had happened: the
dealer didn't realize that when you have a Greek or Coptic text,
the title is often placed at the end of the text. It turns
out that the previous 26 pages were the actual Gospel of
Judas—a fascinating dialogue between Jesus and Judas
about what happened when Judas handed Jesus over for arrest—and
why he did it. Startlingly, this gospel presents Judas Iscariot as
Jesus' favorite disciple, the only one whom he trusts with his deepest
mysteries. And all the other disciples appear as people who completely
missed the message of Jesus, and entirely distorted it—and
this is what has come down to us as "Christianity."
Many people
see the main message of Jesus as "Jesus died for your sins"—and
see Jesus' death as a sacrifice God requires to forgive human sins.
This gospel asks, What does that make of God? Is he a bloodthirsty
pagan god who demands human sacrifice? The God of Abraham
prevented Abraham from offering his son as a sacrifice—does
the God of Jesus then require it?
Second,
we've all heard of Christian martyrs. This text sees Judas dying
as a martyr—because here the other disciples hate him so much
that they kill him! But the Gospel of Judas challenges the idea that
God wants people to die as martyrs—just as it challenges
the idea that God wanted Jesus to die. Whoever wrote this
gospel—and the author is anonymous—is challenging church
leaders who teach that. It's as if an imam were to challenge the
radical imams who encourage "martyrdom operations" and
accuse them of complicity in murder—the Gospel of Judas shows "the
twelve disciples"—stand-ins for church leaders—offering
human sacrifice on the altar—and doing this in the name of
Jesus! Conservative
Christians hate gospels like this—usually call them fakes and
the people who publish them (like us) anti Christian. There
was a great deal of censorship in the early Christian movement—especially
after the emperor became a Christian, and made it the religion of
the empire—and voices like those of this author were silenced
and denounced as "heretics" and "liars." The
story of Jesus was simplified and cleaned up—made "orthodox."
But what
really happened in the early movement is far messier, more intriguing,
and more human. These recently discovered sources show us what was
censored—and what those who didn't become "orthodox" were
saying. For this is the only gospel we've ever seen that shows
Jesus laughing at his disciples—because they have distorted
his message and gotten it so wrong. What we have here is evidence
of how some people in the early movement were struggling with the
story of how Jesus died, betrayed by one of his own men. We
don't have any stories of Jesus written down within 40 years
of his death, but after that time many people wrote down accounts
of what happened. One of the most puzzling parts of the story
is that people knew that Judas Iscariot, one of his closest followers,
had handed him over to the people who arrested him, and to the Roman
authorities who killed him. The question was, Why? What was
the motive? Why would Judas do that?
The earliest
account that we have, Mark's account in the New Testament, gives
no answer at all: it simply says that this is what happened. Judas
handed him over—no motive given. The second account was by
Luke who read the first, and apparently found it inadequate. Feeling
that he had to suggest a motive, Luke retold the story saying that
Satan, the power of evil, entered into Judas Iscariot and made him
do it. Satan embodied the evil power that opposed the divine spirit
in Jesus—so Luke says—and that is why Jesus was overcome
and killed.
A third
account, that of the New Testament gospel of Matthew, offers
a different motive: he did it for money. The way Matthew tells the
story is that Judas went to the chief priest and said, what will
you give me if I hand him over to you? And having gotten a certain
price he agreed to do it—so, according to Matthew, the motive
was obviously greed.
This new
account, the Gospel of Judas, says that Jesus not only anticipated
that he would die and went into it with his eyes open, so to speak,
aware that this somehow had to happen because there was a deep mystery
in it, asked Judas to perform this act as a friend, and that Judas
was the only one who could and would do it, and the others completely
misunderstood it and took it as betrayal. Matthew's gospel says Judas
was so remorseful he went out and hung himself. But this gospel says
the others stoned him to death, out of rage. So it's a very different
kind of account.
When the
National Geographic first heard that there was such a Gospel of Judas,
several experts interpreted it the way we have basically always have
interpreted Gnostic text. When we first heard about Gnostic texts,
we were told that they were "weird"—"Gnostic",
that meant they were the wrong kind of gospel, not like the "real" gospels.
But when
(Harvard Professor) Karen King and I approach these texts, we treat
each as another Christian gospel—another way that this powerful
and strange and tangled story of betrayal was told by Jesus' followers
in the decades after his death. We can't assume it tells us
much about what happened between Jesus and Judas—it's probably
guesswork, like all the other gospels—but it also offers a
lot more than that: it places us right in the heart of the historical
situation in the generations after his death.
Anyone
who joined this movement was aware that he or she could be killed
for it, as many had been—Jesus' closet disciple Peter was crucified
by the Romans, Paul was beheaded, while other followers of Jesus,
like his brother James and his follower Stephen, were lynched by
public mobs and riots. It was very dangerous to be a part of this
movement. And one of the most troubling problems with anybody associated
with it was, what do you do if you're arrested? What do you do, knowing
that this could happen? Do you run? Do you accept persecution as
if this were something God wanted? There is a Jewish tradition about
persecution and about martyrdom which sees dying for God, as they
called it, as a way of witnessing God's power. The followers of Jesus
argued intensely about that question. And the Gospel of Judas is
one of the writings that comes out of these intense, painful arguments
involving the threat of violence—arrest, threat of torture
and public execution. This shows us what DIDN'T become Christianity—and
casts very new light on what did.
For when
Jesus' followers tried to make sense of how their messiah died, some
suggested that Jesus died as a sacrifice—"he died for
our sins." The idea that Jesus' death is an atonement for the
sins of the world becomes the heart of the Christian message, for
many. It's certainly the heart of the New Testament gospels. There
Jesus, before he dies, tells his disciples, when you eat this bread
you're eating my body, which I'm giving for you; you're drinking
my blood when you drink this wine. Because I'm giving my body and
my blood as a voluntary sacrifice for you. So the worship of Jesus'
followers became a sacred meal in which people drank wine and ate
bread, ceremonially reenacting the death of Jesus.
We call
it the Eucharist, the Mass. We're so used to it we hardly see that
it's a cannibalistic feast. But whoever wrote the Gospel of Judas
has Jesus laughing at the disciples, to say, what you're doing
is ludicrous. Turning the death of Jesus into something like an animal
sacrifice. Eating flesh and drinking blood ritually, even, is a kind
of obscene gesture. This author, this follower of Jesus, sees the
idea of Jesus dying for our sins as a complete misunderstanding of
the whole message of Jesus.
So, although
the Gospel of Judas is an authentic early Christian document, it
was early condemned as "blasphemy". We don't know whether
this actually IS what Jesus taught—for although New Testament
Gospels say that Jesus did teach secret teaching, they don't tell
us what it was. But we do have many new texts that show us secret
teaching, like the Gospel of Thomas, the Gospel of Mary Magdalene,
the Gospel of Phillip. And probably Jesus, like other first-century
rabbis, taught one kind of message in public, with thousands of people
listening, and other kinds of teaching in private. We don't think
the Gospel of Judas belongs in the canon—but we also don't
think it belongs in the trash: instead it belongs in the history
of Christianity—a history that now, in light of all these recent
discoveries, we now have to rewrite completely. |