SOURCE: Stephanie Nolen, Maclean's, 15 December 1997
(Copyright © 1997, Maclean Hunter Canadian Publishing Ltd.)
Growing up in Ireland and studying for the priesthood, Father Jerome Murphy-O'Connor felt little impetus to dwell on someone he calls "Jesus the fella." But in 1963, the priest travelled to the Holy Land, on what was supposed to be a brief trip. Thirty-four years later, Father Jerry, as he is known to legions of admirers, is an avuncular fixture in Jerusalem. A professor of the New Testament at the Ecole Biblique et Archaeologique Franiaise, he has written an acclaimed study of the region, The Holy Land: An Archaeological Guide from Earliest Times to 1700. And in the process, he has used research and common sense to develop a radical new portrait of Jesus. "Coming here, I found out how much there was to appreciate about the historical, human Jesus," says Murphy-O'Connor, 62. Much of what he has to say rewrites the Bible stories familiar to many Christians-and helps explain some of the miraculous details.
According to Murphy-O'Connor, Joseph and the pregnant Mary were residents of Bethlehem when Jesus was born. Mary would have been looked after by female members of her family; her male relatives would have been tending sheep in a nearby field when she gave birth. "Through time and well-meaning embellish- ment, these stories were elaborated until you have angels and so forth," he says. "But getting rid of the supernatural trimmings does not erase the story."
By Murphy-O'Connor's reading, Jesus was "a street-smart kid who grew up on the fringe of a huge international work camp." He and his family were living in Nazareth because his father, Joseph, was sure to find work. The Romans were rebuilding the sacked city of Sepphoris and there was the promise of at least 10 years' work in construction. Joseph was likely not a carpenter but an artisan, a small-town builder. He settled his family in Nazareth, one hour's walking distance from Sepphoris, and Jesus would have assisted his father, at least by bringing him his lunch as soon as he was old enough. He picked up Greek from workers at the camp. "We know that," says the priest, "because he describes the authorities, particularly the Pharisees, as 'hypocrites' - a word for actor."
Murphy-O'Connor believes that as a teenager, Jesus was captivated by the mes- sage of a roving teacher called John the Baptist. John advocated a return to fundamentalist Judaism: "Obey the law [the Torah] perfectly and you will be saved." Jesus became his disciple, according to the gospels, and was sent to do some baptizing in Judea and win converts. When John was arrested, Jesus went north to replace him. Somewhere in his travels, Jesus had a conversion experience. By the time he gave the Sermon on the Mount, he was saying "follow me," giving himself equal authority with the Torah, outstepping the bounds of any previous prophet. "He had come to a gradual recognition that he was the Messiah," explains Murphy-O'Connor.
At that time, the people of the Galilee were being taxed at a rate between 40 and 60 percent, according to historians. Many were being forced into debt and pushed off their own land. Often the only option was to become a shepherd or herder, disreputable trades whose practitioners were thought scarcely better than thieves, says Murphy-O'Connor. The priest sees Jesus as a sort of early socialist: watching others being forced off their land, he pronounced: "They are victims, not sinners."
While scholars are skeptical about many of Jesus' miracles, some are willing to accept the historical veracity of his ability to heal. Those powers seemed to justify his message and initially attracted a following. But in the switch from John's message to his own, the crowds fell away. "The gospels have him tramping from village to village," says Murphy-O'Connor, "which is not something you need to do if crowds are coming to hear you. Even his own disciples were disconcerted by the change."
According to Murphy-O'Connor, Jesus was a "classic wandering preacher" who would have been dismissed but for an unfortunate coincidence. His clash with the money-changers in the temple-when he overturned their tables-drew him to the attention of the authorities, and coincided with a rumor that he had raised a man from the dead in Bethany. Pilgrims were pouring into Jerusalem, and the last thing the Romans wanted was trouble with a charismatic preacher. "There was no decision by the Jewish people to kill him," says Murphy-O'Connor. "The high priest Caiaphus [the top Jewish authority in Jerusalem] didn't want things getting out of hand."
Second-guessing the Bible sounds like a heretic's game, but Murphy-O'Connor believes that none of his conclusions put him in contradiction with the church. "To explore the humanity of Jesus is an affirmation of one of the truths of faith," he argues. "It does not deny Jesus' divinity." Still, he feels both academics and the faithful have "a deep bias." "No one wants to believe in a human Jesus," he concludes. "Everyone wants their savior to be in charge."