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David R. Larson            Loma Linda, California 

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Telling Tales:  Making Sense of Christian and Judaic Nonsense:  The Urgency and Basis for Judeo-Christian Dialogue

by Jacob Neusner  

Forward by Martin E. Marty

Westminster/John Knox Press:  1993.  vi + 170 pages.

Reviewed by David R. Larson

lthough it was published almost a decade ago and is no longer in print, this volume was new to me. I recently purchased my copy from a store that sells used books on the Internet. Because it assesses the relationships between Jews and Christians in disturbingly helpful ways, I recommend that others do the same.

Jacob Neusner, the author of this sobering and stimulating volume, is one of our era’s most prolific specialists in religious studies. It is difficult to imagine anyone else now working in this field whose list of publications is more impressive in quantity and quality. 

Neusner writes with the objectivity of the scholar and the commitment of the Rabbi he truly is. He also writes as one who can listen as well as speak, feel as well as think. I am thankful that he graciously brought this volume to my attention. For more information about his life and work, please visit his Web site at www.neusner.com.

This book is one in a cluster of four by Neusner that examines Jewish and Christian relations. Jews and Christians: The Myth of a Common Tradition (New York and London: Trinity Press International and SCM Press, 1990) argues that we should speak of Judaism and Christianity, not Judeo-Christianity, because these movements are so different. In The Bible and Us: A Priest and a Rabbi Read the Scriptures Together (New York: Warner Books, 1990), co-authored with Andrew M. Greeley, a Roman Catholic priest, sociologist and novelist, Neusner contends that Judaism and Christianity do not share a common canon because they read their texts so differently. In A Rabbi Talks with Jesus (New York: Doubleday, 1993), Neusner expounds why he would not have become a disciple of Jesus of Nazareth if had he lived in the first century. For a review of the second edition of this book, as well as a discussion of a chapter by Neusner in a 2002 anthology, please click here.

Telling Tales, the third volume in this series, is disturbing because it claims that over the centuries Jews and Christians have not engaged in genuine dialogue. It is helpful because it substantiates this claim in detail, outlines the basic requirements of true dialogue, proposes how it might now begin, and offers instructive samples of such exchanges. The overall impact is like a thorough medical examination and treatment plan: uncomfortable at points, but beneficial.

Although the writings of a fourth-century Christian bishop in Iran named Aphrahat were exemplary in tone and substance, Jewish and Christian leaders generally came closest to engaging in true dialogue around the time and place Constantine made Rome a Christian empire, Neusner writes. More often, from the earliest days to the present, Jews and Christians indulge in monologues that are evasive at best and hypocritical or even hostile at worst, he contends.

Christianity invents the idea of "Judaism" and then caricatures it as a legalistic and arrogant religion that it attacks with violent words and deeds for persevering despite the emergence of its allegedly superiority alternative. Judaism unofficially pretends that Christianity does not actually exist, or that its founder was of doubtful legitimacy and moral character, even though Judaism’s inevitable interactions with its overgrown and dangerous child shape and structure its identity and inner life. Christianity and Judaism thus circle each other warily while feigning peaceful co-existence, Neusner writes, much like the cobra and the mongoose. Although I wish this figure of speech were mine, it is his!

Such interactions do not amount to genuine dialogue, Neusner asserts. Neither do cosmetic courtesies that purchase superficial affability by avoiding substantive differences. We make little progress, Neusner holds, when Jews and Christians agree that Jesus of Nazareth was a "good man" or a "wise teacher" because this side-steps the decisive question: Was he actually God’s incarnation? 

Similarly, we advance hardly at all when Jews and Christians agree that we have two equally valid covenants, one for Jews and the other for Christians, because this disingenuously ignores Israel’s claim to be God’s chosen people. Although such concessions improve upon their more antagonistic predecessors, they do so only incrementally and by being less than candid, Neusner holds.

According to Neusner, genuine dialogue takes place only when "(1) each party proposes to take seriously the position of the other, (2) each party concedes the integrity of the other, and (3) each party accepts responsibility for the outcome of the discussion: that is, remains open to the possibility of conceding the legitimacy of the other’s viewpoint." In addition, the parties must possess common agendas, resources, patterns of reasoning and standards for making judgments.

All parties must be able and willing to address each other with respect and dignity. They must also enjoy roughly equal standing and power; otherwise, one or the other interacts so defensively that it risks making no offensive moves, in both of the primary meanings of this expression. These requirements have rarely been met in the exchanges between Jews and Christians, Neusner holds, so infrequently that we might as well say "never."

Neusner writes that dialogue between religious movements should begin not by examining ideas or comparing practices but by cultivating the ability to express in one’s own terms what the other affirms and through this process to feel, at least to some extent, what the other feels. This step is the initial goal of true dialogue: to identify with the feelings of the other, first in sympathy and then with empathy.

Neusner holds that the best way to experience at least some of the feelings of the other is to take full advantage of the stories in one’s own religious community that enable one to understand what the other believes and practices. By "telling tales" Jews and Christians can make sense of what otherwise remains inexplicable. 

These tales are not merely interesting anecdotes from one’s own life, though Neusner probably has no objection to sharing these as well. They are narratives that have been shaped over the centuries by a religious heritage, like stones that have been ground smooth and shiny by a long and powerful river. True dialogue begins when we tell such tales, Neusner holds.

Neusner provides two major clusters of stories as samples of resources for fruitful dialogue plus several minor ones. One major cluster makes it easier for Jewish people to understand in their own terms what Christians mean when they say that Jesus is the incarnation of God and to feel what Christians feel because of this conviction. The other major cluster makes it more possible for Christians to understand in their own ways what Jews have in mind when they say that Israel is God’s chosen people and to feel what Jews feel because of this belief.

In neither case does Neusner’s telling of these tales aim at changing beliefs and practices; that can come later, if at all. His goal at this early juncture is to enable Jews and Christians to understand each other in their own terms, and by doing so to feel what the other feels. These tales as he tells them, both Jewish and Christian, are indeed illuminating!

As he does in other publications, Neusner concedes that "the fusion of the ethnic, the religious, the cultural and the political presents woeful confusion to Christians" (140). Without yielding the point that "for nearly all Jews, there is no sorting out the religious, ethnic and cultural categories—not to mention, after all, the genealogical as well" (140), he offers at least two clarifications. One of these is that "if you covert to Judaism, you automatically become a Jew, a member of the ethnic group," so much so that "children of converts to Judaism are fully ‘Israel’" (151).

Neusner’s other clarification is that "I make no claim that for the sake of dialogue, the Christian partner must then approve every decision of the most current Israeli government" (158). He insists, however, that "Christians who hold Israel, the state, to that higher, and unattainable standard or condemn the state of Israel in vile and hateful language—looking for every chance to compare Israeli policy to German Nationalist Socialist policy or to invoke ‘the Holocaust’ in criticizing Israeli actions—have no place in dialogue with self-respecting Jews. These people are little more than anti-Semites" (158).

Although I find Neusner’s approach exceedingly helpful, I am also reminded of the psychiatric adage that "nothing changes when nothing changes." As John B. Cobb, Jr. contends regarding Buddhism and Christianity, our ultimate goal must be more than dialogue; it must be mutual transformation. Things are not likely to improve until, in the best senses of the relevant terms, and without erasing the distinctive identity, life and value of each, Christianity as we now know it becomes more Jewish and Judaism as we now know it becomes more Christian.

Until we change so as truly to act differently, unless our transformations are ethical as well as intellectual and emotional, we can continue to expect the horrible harvest we have been reaping for the last two thousand years. To use Neusner’s figure of speech, if we Jews and Christians continue circling and striking at each other like the mongoose and the cobra, things are not likely to improve, even if we understand each other more fully and feel what the other feels more intensely. As Neusner writes, this is a vital first step. It is up to us to take it and to make sure that it is not the last.

It is my view as a Gentile Christian that those of us who are Jews and Christians may need to change, where appropriate, some of our thoughts, feelings and actions as they pertain to how God interacts with all the people of the world, not merely our own communities of faith. One way to get at this issue is to ponder two passages in Amos. At one point, this portion of Scripture pictures God saying to the people of Israel:

"You only have I known of all the families of the earth;  Therefore I will punish you for all your iniquities."  Amos 3:2 NRSV

At another point this same document portrays God declaring:

"Are you not like the Ethiopians to me, O people of Israel? says the Lord. Did I not bring Israel up from The Land of Egypt, And the Philistines from Caphtor and the Arameans from Kir?" Amos 9:7 NRSV

It is easy to emphasize either the more particularistic overtones of the first passage or the more universal connotations of the second. The challenge is to honor and integrate the messages of both texts, the first apparently more exclusive and the second apparently more inclusive. 

Both messages are part of these and other portions of Scripture. What’s more, both are needed today in order to avoid the different but equally unfortunate pitfalls of relativism, on the one hand, and imperialism, on the other.

Perhaps God’s general way of interacting with all the world’s people always is specific to their histories, circumstances and opportunities. Perhaps the specificity of these divine initiatives always includes a general impulse as well. Thinking along these lines may help us articulate both the particularity and the universality within the conviction that Israel is God’s chosen people, as well as both of these within the belief that Jesus of Nazareth is God’s incarnation.

As Neusner writes, the full exploration of such possibilities must be postponed until we have told the tales that will enable us to understand each other in our own terms of reference so as to feel what the other feels. Meanwhile, we can thank him for personifying the way forward. What more can we ask?

 
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