Tag: interpretation

Leaving Romans — or not (Pentecost 17A)

After a long stretch of passages taken from Paul’s long and complex letter to the Romans, the Revised Common Lectionary now leads us into shorter letters by Paul. First, we will spend four weeks considering passages from Philippians (Pentecost 17A to 20A), followed by five weeks focussed on the first letter to the Thessalonians (Pentecost 21A to 25A). After that, we have the Festival of the Reign of Christ, before we head into Advent, and there we stop the continuous pattern of the long season after Pentecost.

But before we leave Romans, it might be timely to look back, and consider the impact that this letter has had on Christianity. Romans is often seen as expressing the central paradox of the Gospel: God, being righteous, requires righteousness from people; God gives the Law to define that righteousness; yet in Jesus Christ, God has acted to make people righteous apart from this Law. In short, we are “justified” (made righteous) by the grace of God alone, not through any work that we ourselves do.

This, of course, was a doctrine that was born in controversy. Paul first articulates this paradox in a polemical argument in Galatia, where it seems that fervent advocates for the Gospel were maintaining that it was only by full and complete adherence to the Law that a person was able to be made righteous. Paul is incredibly snarky about this; he says such people are not “of God” (Gal 1:11–12), they are preaching “another Gospel” (1:6), that nobody is ever made righteous by the Law (3:11), and that relying on the Law is akin to being accursed (3:10).

This polemic continues in the later letter to the Romans, although in this letter Paul seeks to argue the case step by step, rather than simply call his opponents names. He sets out the theme of God’s righteousness (Rom 1:16–19), explains how this process is not dependent on the Law (3:21–26), calls on Abraham as a key example for the process of being made righteous apart from the Law (4:1–25), argues that Christ fulfils the Law (10:4; 13:8–10), and deals in detail with how the people who do depend on the Law are still integral to God’s plan of salvation (9:1—11:32). See more at

The righteous-justice of God, a gift to all humanity (Romans; Year A)

The significance of this letter can be seen in the fact that it is placed first in the collection of letters by Paul—in a sense declaring that “this exposition of the argument is the lens through which all other letters should be read and understood”. Its significance was recognised, in the 2nd century, by Marcion of Sinope, who recognised Paul as THE Apostle and excised all other letters from his version of the New Testament (as well as three of the four Gospels).

In response, Jewish Christians rejected Paul and his letters. Another form of marginalising his letters took place amongst eastern believers, leading to an emphasis in Orthodoxy on John’s Gospel—it was only the “mystical” aspects of Pauline theology which they utilised in their theological schema.

Paul’s letter to the Romans was a strong influence on Augustine, both in leading to his conversion, and in providing the foundations for developing his theological position, especially in relation to “original sin”. Rom 13:11–14 was the passage that led the young libertine Augustine to adopt an ascent in lifestyle and embrace Christ: “let us walk decently, as in the daytime, not in partying and drunkenness, not in sexual immorality and sensual indulgence, not in fighting and jealousy, but put on the Lord Jesus Christ and make no provision for the desires of the flesh”. (See Augustine, Confessions, 8:29.)

Augustine of Hippo

It was Augustine’s distinctive interpretation of just one small phrase in Rom 5:12 that undergirded his view on the original sin of all human beings, born into depravity and needing the grace of God to be saved. Pelagius remonstrated with him, saying “you undermine the moral law by preaching grace”; Augustine countered with detailed exposition of Pauline theology, grounded in his understanding of Romans. See my discussion of this at

Original Sin? or Innate Goodness? (Genesis 2, Romans 5; Lent 1A)

In the preface to his (unfinished) commentary on Romans, Augustine wrote that God’s grace “is not something that is paid in justice like a debt contracted. No, it’s a free gift … Paul preached that [the Jews] should believe in Christ, and that there was no need to submit to the yoke of carnal circumcision.”

Paul’s letter to the Romans, along with his letter to the Galatians, was a key element in the argument that Martin Luther mounted against the church of his day, as he criticised the doctrines and practices of medieval Catholicism and paved the way for the German Reformation of the church.

When Luther was teaching on Paul’s letter to the Romans in 1513–1516, he had a dramatic experience: “‘I felt that I was altogether born again and had entered paradise itself through open gates.’ This new understanding of this one verse—Rom 1:17— changed everything; it became in a real sense the doorway to the Reformation. ‘Thus that place in Paul was for me truly the gate to paradise,’ says Luther (Latin Writings, 336–337).”

Luther’s argument that righteousness is a gift which God gives by grace from faith in Jesus Christ, and not something earned or merited through human religious and moral performance, has influenced both how Paul has been viewed throughout the ensuing centuries, and also how many Protestant theologians viewed Catholicism. It led to the development of what has been called the “introspective conscience” of modernity, in distinction from the strongly collectivist understandings that more recent interpreters see at work in Paul’s writing.

Portrait of Martin Luther by Lucas Cranach the Elder, 1530.
Photograph: Ullstein Bild/Getty

In his commentary on Romans, Luther wrote, “It [Romans] is the true masterpiece of the New Testament, and the very purest Gospel, which is well worthy and deserving that a Christian man should not only learn it by heart, word for word, but also that he should daily deal with it as the daily bread of men’s souls. For it can never be too much or too well read or studied; and the more it is handled the more precious it becomes, and the better it tastes.”

Two centuries later, on May 24, 1738, John Wesley was attending an evening service at Aldersgate Street in London. Part of Martin Luther’s commentary on Romans was read aloud. Wesley remembers, “He was describing the change which God works in the heart through faith in Christ. I felt my heart strangely warmed. I felt I did trust in Christ, Christ alone, for my salvation; and an assurance was given me that he had taken my sins away, even mine; and saved me from the law of sin and death” (John Wesley, Works (1872), volume 1).

John Wesley

The letter to the Romans has also played a key role in the theological development of Karl Barth, the most prolific and probably most influential theologian of the 20th century. In the summer of 1916, Barth decided to write a commentary on Paul’s Epistle to the Romans as a way of rethinking his theological inheritance. The work was published in 1919; a second edition, with many revisions, followed in 1922.

This work, like many of his others, emphasizes the saving grace of God and the complete inability of human beings to know God outside of God’s revelation in Christ. Specifically, Barth argued that “the God who is revealed in the cross of Jesus challenges and overthrows any attempt to ally God with human cultures, achievements, or possessions”.

Karl Barth

Barth led the attack on Protestant Liberalism, which in his view had held an impossibly optimistic view of the human condition and of the possibility of universal salvation. Romans was key to Barth’s creation of Neo-Orthodoxy and his insistence that Christianity was not a human religion, but a divine revelation. And that set the parameters for a key theological debate throughout the 20th century.

Phew! That’s an awful lot of influence for just one letter! We might be leaving Romans behind in the weekly lectionary offerings; but it is certain that the influence of Paul’s letter to the Romans continues apace, influencing our theology—whether we are aware of that, or not!

(And, yes, I know that this is a string of men interpreting what men have written and said … perhaps someone needs to explore and discover how a number of women have received and understood and used this letter?)

*****

For my string of exegetical posts about Romans that I have posted throughout Year A, see https://johntsquires.com/2023/09/18/ruminating-on-romans/

Parables, riddles, and allegories: the craft of Jewish storytelling (Matt 13; Pentecost 8A)

Jesus used parables as the chief means of his story-telling. A parable is a story told in a specific way, often to make a single clear point. Parables are conundrums. They contain unresolved tensions. They invite multiple understandings. They press for exploration and investigation. We have another parable in the Gospel reading for this coming Sunday!

The accounts of Jesus that we have in scripture—Mark’s beginning of the good news of Jesus, Matthew’s book of origins of Jesus, Chosen One, and Luke’s orderly account of the things fulfilled—each contain a number of parables. Even in John’s book of signs, there are some parable-like sections, buried in the midst of the long discourses that this book contains.

Last week (Pentecost 7A), we had the parable of the seeds and the sower (13:3-9) and its interpretation (13:18-23). This week (Pentecost 8A), we will hear the parable of the weeds among the wheat (13:24-30) and its interpretation (13:36-43). Then in the following week (Pentecost 9A), we will hear the other five parables in this chapter: the mustard seed (13:31-32), the yeast in the flour (13:33), hidden treasure (13:44), a pearl of great value (13:45-46), and the net that caught fish (13:47-48)—each one offered without interpretation.

As with last week, so also this week we are given a parable, followed immediately by an interpretation of the parable. I had a spout last week about the way that a later allegorising understanding of the parable has been placed on the lips of Jesus, in this Gospel account. You can read that at https://johntsquires.com/2020/07/09/parables-the-craft-of-storytelling-in-the-book-of-origins-matt-13/

However, Elizabeth and I have had a rolling conversation about parables, and how they were seen and used in Judaism. The idea that the allegorising interpretation was a later addition, beyond the time of Jesus, has held sway for a number of decades in critical biblical scholarship. Christian scholars are dubious about whether Jesus would have utilise this somewhat hellenised approach to stories. (We know that allegories were in evidence centuries before Jesus in Greek literature. Whether Jesus knew this long tradition is debatable.)

Yet this critical Christian perspective overlooks the claim that Judaism, and the long stream of Jewish tellers of parables, have on such stories. Parables are found, in Jewish literature, in various forms. There are, for a start in Hebrew Scripture, a number of short, succinct, one-liners, often introduced as a simple comparison (“this is like that”), making just one focussed point. (Indeed, that is what the Greek word parabolē means—it signals two things that are “thrown beside” each other.)

The widow in Tekoa explains her plight to King David, explaining that “your servant had two sons, and they fought with one another in the field; there was no one to part them, and one struck the other and killed him; now the whole family has risen against your servant” (2 Sam 14:6–7).

When Ahab was king, a prophet waited beside the road, disguised with a bandage over his eyes, and taunts the king: “your servant went out into the thick of the battle; then a soldier turned and brought a man to me, and said, ‘Guard this man; if he is missing, your life shall be given for his life, or else you shall pay a talent of silver.’ While your servant was busy here and there, he was gone.” (1 Ki 20:38–40).

The “song of my lover about his vineyard” that Isaiah tells (Isa 5:1–7) is longer, but drives relentlessly to the single point: the Lord of hosts “expected justice, but saw bloodshed; righteousness, but heard a cry!”. Another agricultural parable relates the skill of the farmer who utilises good practices to produce abundant harvests; “they are well instructed; their God teaches them”, and so “this also comes from the Lord of hosts; he is wonderful in counsel, and excellent in wisdom” (Isa 28:24–29).

The classic example from Hebrew Scripture comes after David pursues Bathsheba, the wife of Uriah, after he has sent Uriah off into battle. The adultery of King David leads the prophet Nathan to confront him with a story about “a rich man who had many flocks” and “a poor man who had nothing but one little ewe lamb” (2 Sam 12:1–4).

As the story develops, and the rich man took the poor man’s lamb to feed a visitor, the king explodes into anger (2 Sam 12:5–6)—only to be met by the damning words of the prophet: “you are the man!” (2 Sam 12:7). The parable had drawn David into the web of the story, and there was now no escape!

In the parable of the weeds and the wheat which Jesus tells (Matt 13:24–30), there is a simple contrast drawn between the weeds and the wheat, and a story which develops so that the conclusion that is drawn can only be seen as inevitable. That simplicity, and also that technique of drawing the listener into the story, is typical of parables that Jesus told.

A number of the parables told be Jesus were indeed short and direct, making a single point and needing little explanation: see the parables of the treasure (13:44) and the pearl (13:45), for instance. This made the parable easy to remember and repeat orally.

These parables are little more than an introduction (“the kingdom of heaven is like…”) and a single image which is used to describe a characteristic of the kingdom (hidden treasure, or fine pearls). The first part of this week’s parable (13:24–26) has this form. It is short and direct.

It starts with the classic introduction, “the kingdom of heaven may be compared to …”. It goes on to tell of the good seeds, which grow into wheat, and the bad seeds, which grow into weeds. This part of the parable has a simple contrasting form, like the parable of the good fish and the bad fish caught in the net, as told in the last of the seven parables (13:47–48).

But the parable has a story attached to these weeds among the wheat (13:27–30). So Jesus continues with a little plot development, which brings in a reflection on the human characters who sowed the seeds. In this regard, this is like other parables of Jesus, which are a little more developed; they still make a single point, but it is developed or explained a little more. And the questions are raised … and the listeners ponder, and consider their responses …

This parable plays,quite cleverly, on the fact that there is, indeed, a type of “weed” which, for much of its life, looks quite like wheat (the bearded darnel, lolium temulentum, or Darnel Ryegrass). So it is a story which is quite credible in the scenario it proposes. And then, added to the actual parable, there comes a separate section that provides a strongly allegorised interpretation of what happened in the field where the wheat and the weeds grew (13:24–30).

That development in the plot of this parable, and the subsequent allegorical interpretation, might well relate to the fact that the Hebrew Scriptures also contain parables with developed plots and allegorical elements. In an allegory, particular individual features can play an independently figurative role, so that the story told becomes a kind of riddle which invites a response from the listener. “What do you think?” becomes the implied way that the allegory-riddle ends. Listening to the story is not enough—the listener needs to engage, enter the conundrum, make up their mind!

A classic short, simple riddle is that spoken by Samson, “out of the eater came something to eat; out of the strong came something sweet” (Judg 14:14). The narrative comment that follows is delightful: “for three days they could not explain the riddle”! Another example is the proverb quoted by two prophets, about the impact of the Exile: “the parents have eaten sour grapes, and the children’s teeth are set on edge” (Jer 31:29; Ezek 18:2). The point of this saying is clear, and telling.

In Hebrew Scripture, the allegory of the Eagles and the Vine (Ezek 17:3–10) is described as both ḥidah (“riddle”) and mashal in verse 2. The parable first describes “a great eagle, with great wings and long pinions”, who carried seed far away where it took root and became a vine (a classic symbol of Israel). It then offers a further description of “another great eagle, with great wings and much plumage”, which the teller of the parable fears may seek to uproot the vine.

“When it is transplanted, will it thrive”, the parable ends (v.10)—will Israel, transplanted into exile, manage to survive that experience? Then follows an explanation of the details of the parable (Ezek 17:11–21), relating the story to the immediate situation of Israel.

Further parable-riddles occur in subsequent chapters in Ezekiel. There is the Lamenting of the Lioness (Ezek 19:2–9) and the Transplanted Vine (Ezek 19:10–14), and the stories of the Harlot Sisters (ibid. 23:2–21). There is also one of my favourites, the very vivid—and gruesome—parable of the Cooking-Pot (Ezek 24:3b—5).

In this parable, the prophet warns the people of judgement: “set on the pot … pour in water … put in the pieces, the thigh and the shoulder … fill it with choice bones” (that is, the meat and bones of the Israelites being punished). The prophet concludes with a booming denunciation: “woe to the bloody city … the blood is shed inside it … to rouse my wrath, I have placed the blood she shed on on a bare rock” (Ezek 24:6–8, and then the metaphor extended still further in 24:9–14).

Each of these parables are clearly allegorical, in that the overall point is clear, and yet also the details in the story invite connection with specific people or events. Ezekiel is a powerful speaker, who utilises this dramatic story-form with great flair, and effect.

A third type of mashal is the fable, where animals or inanimate objects are made to speak and act like men. We know about fables in Greek literature from Aesop, of course, and in more recent literature through those tales collected by the Brothers Grimm; but the article on “Parables” in the Jewish Virtual Library notes a number of instances where Hebrew Scripture contains fables. One good example is Judges 9:8–15, where the trees confer as to who will become king. Another is 2 Kings 14:9–10, where a thornbush sends a message to a cedar, but a wild animal tramples down the thornbush. These fables can be seen to relate directly to the political situation of Israel at different times in their history.

The article on “Parable” in the Jewish Virtual Library also notes: “Mashal and ḥidah are used almost synonymously in Ezekiel 17:2; Habakkuk 2:6; Psalms 49:5 and 78:2; and Proverbs 1:6. Certain proverbs are in effect parable-riddles, e.g., Proverbs 30:15a, 15b–16, 18–19, and 21–31.

“Other biblical forms related to the parable type of mashal are: prophetic oracles where a metaphor is extended into a lively description, e.g., Isaiah 1:5–6; Hosea 2:2–15; 7:8–9, 11–12; Joel 4:13; and Jeremiah 25:15–29; prophetic oracles proclaimed through symbolic actions, e.g., I Kings 11:29; II Kings 13:15–19, and Isaiah 20:2–6; extended personifications as of Wisdom and Folly in Proverbs 1:20–33; 8:1–36; 9:1–6, 13–18; and revelatory dreams and visions having symbolism which the sequel interprets as allegorical, e.g., Genesis 37:6–11; 40:9–13, 16–19; Zechariah 1:8–11; 2:1–4; and Daniel 2:31–45.”

Beyond these many examples, there are the multitudes of parables in rabbinic literature (about which, see the further resources listed at the end of this blog).

Returning to the parable of the wheat and the weeds: if we take an agricultural approach to the story, it is a mystery why the weeds had to be burnt, and not just pulled out—as in the version of this parable found in the Gospel of Thomas—and composted—as would occur in my own gardening!

My own take would be that this links with the Jewish prophetic tendency to connect burning with God’s judgement (see Isa 27:2–4; Jer 4:4, 7:20, 15:14, 17:4; Nahum 1:13; Malachi 4:1; see also Ps 79:5, 89:46, and Exod 15:7). And we saw in my comments on the earlier parable that God’s judgement was a strong motif in the parables and teachings of Jesus, especially strengthened in Matthew’s account.

The parable of the mustard seed (13:31–32) is another example of a simple parable with a short plot development. This parable uses the same introductory phrase, “the kingdom of heaven is like …”, and conveys its main point in an image (mustard seed, 13:31) which is further developed to convey what happens to the mustard seed as it grows and forms “the greatest of shrubs” (13:32).

So the plot of the parable of the wheat and the weeds continues until the punchline is reached. It is not during the growing that any distinction is to be made; it is at the harvest that this distinction is enforced. Wheat that grew from good seeds is to be collected and stored; weeds that grew from bad seeds are to be bundled and burnt (13:28–30).

That much, as a parable, has a clear message: don’t intervene into the process of growing, don’t judge (recalling words of Jesus reported at Matt 7:1), but let the end result of the process of growing be the moment when the judgement occurs—and let that judgement be undertaken by God. And that taps into a strong interest, throughout the book of origins, for depicting Jesus as the eschatological preacher of judgement. See

Parables: the craft of storytelling in the book of origins (Matt 13; Pentecost 7A)

This probably explains one curious aspect of the parable, that we noted above: why the weeds had to be burnt, and not just pulled out. It connects with Jewish understandings of judgement. Consistently throughout the book of origins, Jesus is presented as a prophetic eschatological figure. And yet alongside that, he functions as a master story-teller, in the mode of prophets of old as well as the rabbis to come!

In his capacity as God’s Messiah, Jesus frequently promises (or threatens) judgement (5:21–26; 7:1–2; 10:15; 11:21–24; 12:36–37; 19:28– 30; 21:33–44; 22:1–14; 24:29–31, 36-44, 45–51; 25:1–13, 14–30, 31–46; 26:64). The language of burning in the eternal fire characterises both conclusions to parables of Jesus, and the warnings of earlier prophets. Many of these declarations occur in eschatological contexts, where Jesus is warning about the punishment that is to come at “the end of time”, unless the righteous-justice that he advocates is followed in the present.

In the previous chapter, a quotation from the prophet Isaiah (Isa 42:1–4, at Matt 12:15–21) includes an extended quotation from Isaiah 42, where the servant of the Lord proclaims judgement to the Gentiles and they are said to have hope in his name (presumably because they repent and believe him). This is the function that Jesus, as God’s servant, the Chosen One, carries out. It’s not for us human beings to take on the role of judge. That belongs to God, carried out through his chosen agent, Jesus.

The parable of the wheat and the weeds has an intensity because of its focus and orientation towards this fearsome judgement, executed by Jesus as “the Son of Man” (24:30–31), in obedience to the desire of God. The interpretation of the parable might be seen to defuse the intensity of the parable by fussing about what each element refers to: the Sower is the Son of Man, the good seeds are the children of the kingdom, the bad seeds are the children of the evil one, the enemy is the devil, and so on (13:39). But the end point remains clear: judgement is a hand!

The interpretation of the parable ends with a repetition and expansion of the scene of judgement that ended the parable—but the good seed is not simply stored, it morphs into the righteous in the kingdom, and the bad seed is not burnt as seed, but it becomes the ones who disobeyed the law, burning in the furnace (13:41–43). And there will be “weeping and gnashing of teeth” (13:42; see also 13:50; 22:14; 25:30). So the same punchline holds in this section, as in the parable itself.

Interestingly, the interpretation ends with the same punchline that concluded the parable of the seeds and the sower: let anyone with ears, listen! (13:43, cf. 13:9). Jesus continues to press the point. Judgement is inevitable. He will continue to articulate this ominous message throughout the remainder of the Gospel—right through to the sequence of the four parables of judgement that conclude the final teachings of Jesus (24:44—25:46). Let anyone with ears, listen, indeed!

This blog draws on material in MESSIAH, MOUNTAINS, AND MISSION: an exploration of the Gospel for Year A, by Elizabeth Raine and John Squires (self-published 2012), and from ongoing conversations that Elizabeth and I have had about parables, Christian interpretation, Jewish storytelling techniques, and associated matters.

On Jesus’ language of judgement elsewhere in Matthew’s book of origins, see

Darkness, weeping, and gnashing of teeth: the scene of judgement (Matt 22; Pentecost 20A)
Discipleship in an apocalyptic framework (Matt 23–25; Pentecost 23–26A)
A final parable from the book of origins: on sheep and goats, on judgement and righteous-justice (Matt 25; Pentecost 26A)
The Jewish Virtual Library is a project of the American-Israeli Cooperative Enterprise (AICE), which was established in 1993 as a nonprofit and nonpartisan organization to strengthen the U.S.-Israel relationship by emphasizing the fundamentals of the alliance — the values which those two nations share. The extensive online resource on Jewish history, politics and culture provides a one-stop shop for users from around the world seeking answers to questions on subjects ranging from anti-Semitism to Zionism.
AICE seeks to provide a vehicle for the research, study, discussion and exchange of views concerning nonmilitary cooperation (Shared Value Initiatives) between the peoples and governments of the United States and Israel.

The Jewish Virtual Library article on “Parable” can be found at https://www.jewishvirtuallibrary.org/parable

For further reading on parables in the rabbinic tradition, see

https://www.cfi.org.uk/downloads/rabinnic-parables.pdf

https://www.jewishencyclopedia.com/articles/11898-parable

https://www.jerusalemperspective.com/2721/

The Afterlives of Jesus: historical, interfaith, and cultural perspectives

Jesus has been important ever since his earthly life. Through his teachings, his death, and the experience of resurrection, his early followers recognised his significance. They held together after the crucial events in Jerusalem that brought the earthly life of Jesus to an end. In a sense, Jesus lived on through what they said and did in the ensuing decades … and centuries.

Jesus had a life after his (earthly) life … or, perhaps we might say, Jesus had an afterlife; although, to be more accurate, we might better say, Jesus had many afterlives. In the preaching, serving, writing, singing, drawing, painting, and witness of many later followers of Jesus, he lived on … in ways that each person represented, contextualising Jesus to their own situation, their own experience, their own cultural practices.

So over the centuries there has been Jewish Jesus, Black Jesus, Asian Jesus, African Jesus, White European Jesus, Jesus in song, Jesus in art, Jesus in orthodox doctrine, Jesus in “heretical” understandings, Jesus in Islam, Jesus in Buddhism, Jesus represented and communicated in a myriad of ways.

Australian Anglican priest and biblical scholar, Dr Greg Jenks, has been working for some time to collate a collection of writings which explores some of these “afterlives of Jesus”. The result is a set of three volumes, The Afterlives of Jesus, with contributions from a wide variety of people, providing fascinating insights into the way that Jesus has “lived on” through the centuries.

It is a collection of essays which explores the impact of Jesus within and beyond Christianity, including his many afterlives in literature and the arts, social justice, and world religions during the past two thousand years and especially in the present global context.

The first volume, Historical Afterlives, focusses on explicitly Christian afterlives, exploring how scripture passages relating to Jesus have been interpreted, as well as how patristic writers, Byzantine coins, mand contemporary social insights engage with Jesus.

In the second volume, Interfaith Afterlives, the focus is on the diverse ways that Jesus was understood in other faith traditions. Jesus has significant afterlives in Islam, Judaism, Hinduism, Ruism and Mormonism, as well as assorted secular afterlives in progressive Christianity.

In volume three, Cultural Afterlives, a range of writers reflect on how Jesus has been proclaimed, appropriated, and adapted into a range of cultures—Indigenous Australian, Māori, Pacific, and Asian Jesus; the “Jesus of King’s Cross”, Jesus in post-colonial art, in comedic film, in feminist understanding.

The contributors include religion scholars from the respective traditions, as well as faith practitioners reflecting on Jesus within their own religious context. While the essays are all grounded in critical scholarship, reflective practice, or both, they are expressed in nontechnical language that is accessible to interested nonspecialists.

Australian theologian Dr Val Webb says that the work offers “a wonderful sweep of ‘afterlives’ that free Jesus of Nazareth from the confines of Christian orthodoxy, a Jesus who has fed the imagination of people, cultures, and contexts far beyond the streets of Jerusalem and Rome.” Professor Monica Jyotsna Melanchthon, of the University of Divinity, observes that “the rich set of afterlives discussed here provoke conversation in terms of our continued life, faith, and reflection on the Jesus of History and the Christ of faith”.

Professor Arthur Dewey, of Xavier University, rejoices that, in reading these volumes, “we slowly begin to realise that Jesus is no longer embalmed in doctrinal winding sheets; he has slipped ecclesial controls and continues his walkabout on this fragile planet.” He continues, “whether reading the Jesus traditions anew through indigenous eyes or recognizing how the tradition itself emerged within the lethal atmosphere of patriarchy, the authors challenge us to nothing less than a radical revisioning of that elusive and alluring figure, dancing in the unnoticed gaps and crevices of our planet”.

Greg Jenks has done a fine job in commissioning and editing the 33 essays included in these three volumes. The contents of each volume and a link to order The Afterlives of Jesus in hardcopy can be found at https://afterlives.org