Jesus: A Novel.

Jesus: A Novel. By Walter Wangerin Jr. Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 2005. 400 pages. Cloth. $21.99.

Ever since Tatian produced the first Gospel harmony in the second century, the church--first through Irenaeus, then others--has argued that the diversity of multiple Gospels is a blessing that should be preserved. Combining the accounts of Jesus' life just doesn't work from a literary standpoint. This goes also for novels. Even for the best of modern story tellers like Walter Wangerin Jr. the finished product falls short.

I've been using Wangerin's Paul: A Novel (Zondervan, 2000) for a number of years to get my undergraduate students started in their discovery of Paul. It has a wonderful approach, with ten different narrators sharing their impressions of the first-century apostle. Prisca's story is always the favorite among students. Yet there's also Barnabas, Titus, James, and Seneca the philosopher. Combined with Paul's own words from his letters and Luke's from Acts, the divergent chapters come at Paul from all sides. The result is a character who is real and who provokes thought.

Wangerin takes the opposite approach in his latest bestseller, Jesus: A Novel. The four Gospels are reduced to one, and the sum is not greater than its parts. Actually, there are two narrators: the beloved disciple and Mary. They are a natural pair since they come together in John's Gospel at the foot of the cross. The idea of Mary as source, of course, goes way back to theories about Luke's investigative reporting while Paul was imprisoned at Caesarea. As for the beloved disciple, there is already an account in writing, well-read and appreciated.

The problem for those of us familiar with the Sunday Gospel readings is that Wangerin's beloved disciple just doesn't sound like the Fourth Evangelist. Throughout the story, an eagle soars overhead, but Wangerin's narrator seems oblivious to it. There are no "I am" sayings or lofty, soaring discourse. The signs are just synoptic miracles. "Lamb of God" and other symbolic language come off without a poetic flair. John's Jesus, "walking a foot above the ground," as Ernst Kasemann described him, plods along in synoptic shoes.

Perhaps this is the crux of the problem with the new novel. The beloved disciple has been turned into a fourth synoptic. The outline for the book is clearly Markan with a Lukan infancy section tacked on and with elements from the other Gospels, including John, thrown in for good measure. So we lose the distinctive five-sermon framework of Matthew, the long journey of Luke, and the back-and-forth Jerusalem/Galilee axis of John. The Samaritan woman at the well is turned into just another Galilean peasant, and Nicodemus slips through the cracks.

The Fourth Gospel has long been known for its distinctive omissions. Yet they have been reinserted into the beloved disciple's testimony. So the three temptations of Jesus are front and center, along with an explanation of supposed allusions in the Fourth Gospel. Likewise the beatitudes and the blessing of children.

In this new harmony, the synoptics have also lost their flavor, including Mark's sandwiching of stories and inclination for occurrences of threes. One is always confronted by the stark realism of Mark's Messianic Secret and the hostile picture of Jesus' family ready to take him home for a rest because he has gone out of his mind. Instead Mary stands patient outside the crowded house where Jesus is teaching and eager to show the way to the rooftop for the four friends who let down the paralytic into Jesus' midst.

In this day of renewed interest in Mary Magdalene, Wangerin's characterization of this disciple is interesting. Thankfully, she is not depicted as the converted prostitute as has been the case in too many such novels and sermons. Instead, her demon possession is depicted in a powerful way. Still, this depiction includes allusions to the "sinful woman" of Luke 7 who appears at dinner with her hair dangling in front of her face.

When it comes to the passion, the last supper includes both synoptic Passover-garnished Eucharistic words of institution and a Johannine footwashing. The long farewell discourse of the Fourth Gospel has been reduced to seven short sentences.

Totally unlike the Johannine Jesus dialoguing through the trials, this Jesus is silent like the lamb led to slaughter. Yet at the cross, there's an interesting combination of last utterances of Jesus. Here is where the choice becomes most difficult: synoptic despair or Johannine glory? Or a combination of all seven, like our Tenebrae services? For Wangerin, only two fall to the editing floor, the Johannine "I thirst" and "It is finished." For this beloved disciple, the call to "behold your mother" seems to leave him beholding only the words of the synoptic Jesus.

When approached as a whole, this novel is lacking. I would much rather read the canonical Gospels with their literary richness, one at a time. The sum is not greater than its parts. Yet this is not to say that the parts are not without value. Because we are used to reading the Gospels this way in church--one pericope at a time--the preacher and the parishioner both may uncover here a wealth of material. Individual episodes can often be taken as fascinating interpretations of biblical accounts. Such is the case with the wedding at Cana where first-century wedding customs are interwoven into the telling of the story.

A clever and thought-provoking innovation is the insertion early in the story of Barabbas as a childhood friend from Nazareth, ironically named, as Matthew has it, Jesus. Thus the zealot motif is interwoven through this character and his interaction with Judas Iscariot.

Wangerin does his historical research, building on the latest archaeological discoveries. Thus evidence of the priestly family Katharos from excavations in Jerusalem's Jewish Quarter finds its way into the story. So also is Joseph depicted as building stone houses in Sepphoris, though Wangerin doesn't let go of Justin Martyr's claim that Joseph built plows for farmers. Qumran is described accurately. Surprisingly, for a beloved disciple narrator, newly excavated Beth-saida still remains off the beaten path. Like Mel Gibson's soldiers, the Latin language seems to be preferred, yet not as historical research suggests.

The beloved disciple falls short in this telling, but Jesus' mother shines. Her anguish over an unexpected pregnancy and her frantic panicking over the loss of the twelve-year old Jesus at the temple add depth to the biblical story. Perhaps an entire novel from Mary's perspective would have been the way for Wangerin to go. Still, it would have been my preference if Wangerin had followed the Paul model and included a dozen interwoven narrations from characters other than the evangelists--many lesser characters like Joanna, Barabbas, James, the boy with the loaves and fish, Nicodemus, Jairus, and others.

Fred Strickert

Wartburg College, Waverly, Iowa