Rowan Williams contrasts radical Jesus to ‘exotic mysteries’

Itís actually a fairly conventional book of its kind ó and there were dozens like it around in the early centuries of the Church. People who werenít satisfied with the sort of thing the New Testament had to say spent quite a lot of energy trying to produce something which suited them better.

They wanted Christian teaching to be a matter of exotic and mystical information, shared only with an in-group. So a lot of these books imagine Jesus having long conversations with various people whose names are in the Bible but who we donít know much about. This, they claim is the real thingó not the boring stuff in the official books. Donít believe the official version, they say. The truth has been concealed from you by sinister conspiracies of bishops and suchlike villains, but now it can be told.

I suppose that explains why thereís always such an interest in stories about ëlostí books coming to light. Think of the massive international industry around the Da Vinci Code: itís exciting to think of conspiracies and cover-ups when trust in traditional institutions is low. The same sort of thing seems to have happened with the history of the Church and its Bible.

But hereís the problem. We’re familiar with a world of cover up stories; weíre on safer ground with their cynicism and worldly wisdom; they are less challenging and don’t force us to confront difficult realities. And, like any kind of cynicism, it actually stops us hearing anything genuinely new or surprising. We need to stop and ask ourselves from time to time just why the cynical version is the one that appeals to us , is it just because we can cope much more easily with the picture of a world that always works by manipulation and deceit? Donít we want to see anything more challenging? Are we just too lazy to recognise something really fresh, something that hints at a bigger and a better world?

The people who wrote the Gospel of Judas were trying to persuade their readers that everyone before them had got Jesus wrong, and that the folk who ran the churches were only in it for their own profit (never mind that these leaders and their followers regularly faced death for what they believed, just as some believers still do now, as weíve been reminded in recent weeks). This story in itself was an easy option, something that couldnít ever be completely disproved but would create a climate of mistrust.

But why were those writers not satisfied with what the Bible says? It becomes a lot clearer when we compare the Jesus of the Bible with the Jesus of these other documents.

In the new ëgospelí, Jesus is made out to be a mystery man, a guru. He laughs mockingly when the disciples try to understand what heís about. He is said to reveal the mystic names of heavenly powers, and to explain how the universe was created by inferior angels. He claims that the soul is only a very temporary dweller in the body. And Judas is told repeatedly that only he understands Jesus, not the other, dim-witted, disciples. Itís the standard kind of teaching you expect from gurus of a certain sort.

Now turn to the New Testament. Here is the real Jesus who actually has a recognisable human setting. His favourite method of teaching is to tell sharp and sometimes satirical stories of ordinary life, with a sting in the tail. He doesnít suffer fools (especially religious fools) gladly, but he has all the time in the world for those who are thought to be failures. He is a straightforward, not a cynical man. He likes being with children. He knows his disciples donít fully understand him and sometimes it makes him angry, but he goes on loving and trusting them. When heís faced with a horrible and unavoidable death, he trembles and cries, but goes on with it.

When the Jesus of the Gospels comes back from the dead, he doesnít go and crow over his enemies, he meets his friends and tells them to get out there and talk about him ó about what his life and death have made possible, about forgiveness, making peace, being honest about yourself, checking the temptation to judge and condemn, tackling your selfishness at the root, praying simply and trustingly.

This is flesh and blood. Itís not about exotic mysteries. It is about how God makes it possible for us to live a life that isnít paralysed by guilt, aggression and pride. It asks us to come down to earth and face whatís wrong with us. Is it surprising that some people found this too direct, too in-your-face to cope with? No wonder they preferred to go on about the names of angels and the secrets of how the world began.

Letís ask ourselves why weíre sometimes more comfortable with such stories about conspiracies and stories about mystical gurus. Is it perhaps because when we turn to what the Bible actually says, Jesus challenges us pretty seriously? What if this is a story we havenít really listened to before? And what if everything could be different because of this particular story?

Thatís the question we ought to be asking at Easter. What if this surprising character in the New Testament is not just another teacher, another guru, but someone who really could change the world? Everything truly can be different because of the real story of Jesus, the Son of God.

Well, that is the real front-page story, bigger than any story about the discovery of a lost document and ultimately more exciting than any number of conspiracy theories.

Itís actually a fairly conventional book of its kind ó and there were dozens like it around in the early centuries of the Church. People who werenít satisfied with the sort of thing the New Testament had to say spent quite a lot of energy trying to produce something which suited them better.

They wanted Christian teaching to be a matter of exotic and mystical information, shared only with an in-group. So a lot of these books imagine Jesus having long conversations with various people whose names are in the Bible but who we donít know much about. This, they claim is the real thingó not the boring stuff in the official books. Donít believe the official version, they say. The truth has been concealed from you by sinister conspiracies of bishops and suchlike villains, but now it can be told.

I suppose that explains why thereís always such an interest in stories about ëlostí books coming to light. Think of the massive international industry around the Da Vinci Code: itís exciting to think of conspiracies and cover-ups when trust in traditional institutions is low. The same sort of thing seems to have happened with the history of the Church and its Bible.

But hereís the problem. We’re familiar with a world of cover up stories; weíre on safer ground with their cynicism and worldly wisdom; they are less challenging and don’t force us to confront difficult realities. And, like any kind of cynicism, it actually stops us hearing anything genuinely new or surprising. We need to stop and ask ourselves from time to time just why the cynical version is the one that appeals to us , is it just because we can cope much more easily with the picture of a world that always works by manipulation and deceit? Donít we want to see anything more challenging? Are we just too lazy to recognise something really fresh, something that hints at a bigger and a better world?

The people who wrote the Gospel of Judas were trying to persuade their readers that everyone before them had got Jesus wrong, and that the folk who ran the churches were only in it for their own profit (never mind that these leaders and their followers regularly faced death for what they believed, just as some believers still do now, as weíve been reminded in recent weeks). This story in itself was an easy option, something that couldnít ever be completely disproved but would create a climate of mistrust.

But why were those writers not satisfied with what the Bible says? It becomes a lot clearer when we compare the Jesus of the Bible with the Jesus of these other documents.

In the new ëgospelí, Jesus is made out to be a mystery man, a guru. He laughs mockingly when the disciples try to understand what heís about. He is said to reveal the mystic names of heavenly powers, and to explain how the universe was created by inferior angels. He claims that the soul is only a very temporary dweller in the body. And Judas is told repeatedly that only he understands Jesus, not the other, dim-witted, disciples. Itís the standard kind of teaching you expect from gurus of a certain sort.

Now turn to the New Testament. Here is the real Jesus who actually has a recognisable human setting. His favourite method of teaching is to tell sharp and sometimes satirical stories of ordinary life, with a sting in the tail. He doesnít suffer fools (especially religious fools) gladly, but he has all the time in the world for those who are thought to be failures. He is a straightforward, not a cynical man. He likes being with children. He knows his disciples donít fully understand him and sometimes it makes him angry, but he goes on loving and trusting them. When heís faced with a horrible and unavoidable death, he trembles and cries, but goes on with it.

When the Jesus of the Gospels comes back from the dead, he doesnít go and crow over his enemies, he meets his friends and tells them to get out there and talk about him ó about what his life and death have made possible, about forgiveness, making peace, being honest about yourself, checking the temptation to judge and condemn, tackling your selfishness at the root, praying simply and trustingly.

This is flesh and blood. Itís not about exotic mysteries. It is about how God makes it possible for us to live a life that isnít paralysed by guilt, aggression and pride. It asks us to come down to earth and face whatís wrong with us. Is it surprising that some people found this too direct, too in-your-face to cope with? No wonder they preferred to go on about the names of angels and the secrets of how the world began.

Letís ask ourselves why weíre sometimes more comfortable with such stories about conspiracies and stories about mystical gurus. Is it perhaps because when we turn to what the Bible actually says, Jesus challenges us pretty seriously? What if this is a story we havenít really listened to before? And what if everything could be different because of this particular story?

Thatís the question we ought to be asking at Easter. What if this surprising character in the New Testament is not just another teacher, another guru, but someone who really could change the world? Everything truly can be different because of the real story of Jesus, the Son of God.

Well, that is the real front-page story, bigger than any story about the discovery of a lost document and ultimately more exciting than any number of conspiracy theories.