know nothing more, informs both Paul
After recounting his adventures on the journey — including a shipwreck — Acts ends. Or, rather, it breaks off, as if the author were interrupted in his work, or as if someone had removed the original ending and inserted a perfunctory finale instead. There are, of course, numerous later traditions — that Paul was imprisoned, that he obtained a personal audience with the emperor, that he was freed and went to Spain, that Nero ordered his execution, that he encountered Peter in Rome (or in prison in Rome), that he and Peter were executed together. But neither in Acts nor in any other reliable document is there a basis for any of these stories. Perhaps the original ending of Acts was indeed excised or altered. Perhaps Luke, the author, simply did not know ‘what happened next’ and, not being concerned with aesthetic symmetry, simply allowed himself to conclude lamely. Or perhaps, as Eisenman has suggested — and this possibility will be considered later — Luke did know, but deliberately cut short his narrative (or was cut short by later editors) in order to conceal his knowledge.
The last sections of Acts — from the riot inspired in the Temple on — are muddled, confused and riddled with unanswered questions. Elsewhere, however, Acts is ostensibly simple enough. On one level, there is the narrative of Paul’s conversion and subsequent adventures. But behind this account looms a chronicle of increasing friction between two factions within the original community in Jerusalem, the ‘early Church’. One of these factions consists of ‘hardliners’, who echo the teachings of Qumranic texts and insist on rigorous observance of the Law. The other, exemplified by Paul and his immediate supporters, want to relax the Law and, by making it easier for people to join the congregation, to increase the number of new recruits. The ‘hardliners’ are less concerned with numbers than with doctrinal purity, and seem to have only a cursory interest in events or developments outside Palestine; nor do they display any desire for an accommodation with Rome. Paul, on the other hand, is prepared to dispense with doctrinal purity. His primary objective is to disseminate his message as widely as possible and to assemble the largest possible body of adherents. In order to attain this objective, he goes out of his way to avoid antagonising the authorities and is perfectly willing to come to an accommodation with Rome, even to curry favour.
The ‘early Church’, then, as it appears in Acts, is rent by incipient schism, the instigator of which is Paul. Paul’s chief adversary is the enigmatic figure of James, ‘the Lord’s brother’. It is clear that James is the acknowledged leader of the community in Jerusalem that becomes known to later tradition as the ‘early Church’.13 For the most part, James comes across as a ‘hardliner’, though he does — if Acts is to be believed — display a willingness to compromise on certain points. All the evidence suggests, however, that even this modest flexibility reflects some licence on the part of the author of Acts. James could not, obviously, have been excised from the narrative — his role, presumably, would have been too well-known. In consequence, he could only be played down somewhat, and portrayed as a conciliatory figure — a figure occupying a position somewhere between Paul and the extreme ‘hardliners’.
In any case, the ‘sub-text’ of Acts reduces itself to a clash between two powerful personalities, James and Paul. Eisenman has demonstrated that James emerges as the custodian of the original body of teachings, the exponent of doctrinal purity and rigorous adherence to the Law. The last thing he would have had in mind was founding a ‘new religion’. Paul is doing precisely that. Paul’s Jesus is a full-fledged god, whose biography, miracle for miracle, comes to match those of the rival deities with whom he is competing for devotees — one sells gods, after all, on the same marketing principles that obtain for soap or pet food. By James’s standards — indeed, by the standards of any devout Jew — this, of course, is blasphemy and apostasy. Given the passions roused by such issues, the rift between James and Paul would hardly have been confined, as Acts suggests it was, to the level of civilised debate. It would have generated the kind of murderous hostility that surfaces at the end of the narrative.
In the conflict between James and Paul, the emergence and evolution of what we call Christianity stood at a crossroads. Had the mainstream of its development conformed to James’s teachings, there would have been no Christianity at all, only a particular species of Judaism which might or might not have emerged as dominant. As things transpired, however, the mainstream of the new movement gradually coalesced, during the next three centuries, around Paul and his teachings. Thus, to the undoubted posthumous horror of James and his associates, an entirely new religion was indeed born — a religion which came to have less and less to do with its supposed founder.
13. James ‘The Righteous’
If James played so important a role in the events of the time, why do we know so little about him? Why has he been relegated to the status of a shadowy figure in the background? Those questions can be answered simply enough. Eisenman stresses that James, whether he was literally Jesus’ brother or not, had known Jesus personally in a way that Paul never did. In his teachings, he was certainly closer to ‘the source’ than Paul ever was. And his objectives and preoccupations were often at variance with Paul’s — were sometimes, indeed, diametrically opposed. For Paul, then, James would have been a constant irritant. With the triumph of Pauline Christianity, therefore, James’s significance, if it couldn’t be obliterated completely, had, at the very least, to be diminished.
Unlike a number of personalities in the New Testament, James does seem to have been an historical personage, and, moreover, one who played a more prominent role in the affairs of his time than is generally recognised. There is, in fact, a reasonably copious body of literature pertaining to James, even though most of it lies outside the canonical compilation of the New Testament.
In the New Testament itself, James is mentioned in the Gospels as one of Jesus’ brothers, though the context is generally vague or confusing and has obviously been tampered with. In Acts, as we have discussed, he assumes rather more prominence, though it is not until the second part of Acts that he emerges in any kind of perspective. Then, with Paul’s letter to the Galatians, he is clearly identified as the leader of the ‘early Church’, who resides in Jerusalem and is attended by a council of elders.1 Apart from those that impinge on Paul, however, one learns little of his activities, and even less about his personality and biography. Neither is the Letter of James in the New Testament of much value in this respect. The letter may indeed derive from a text by James, and Eisenman has drawn attention to its Qumranic style, language and imagery.2 It contains (James 5:6) an accusation whose significance will become apparent shortly — an accusation to the effect that ‘you murdered the righteous [or just] man’.3 Again, however, no personal information is vouchsafed.
Such is James’s role in scripture proper. But if one looks further afield, a portrait of James does begin to emerge. This is the research which Eisenman has been pursuing over the last few years. One source of information he has emphasised is an anonymous text of the ‘early Church’, the so-called ‘Recognitions of Clement’, which surfaced very early in the 3rd century. According to this document, James is preaching in the Temple when an unnamed ‘enemy’, accompanied by an entourage of followers, bursts in. The ‘enemy’ taunts James’s listeners and drowns out his words with noise, then proceeds to inflame the crowd ‘with revilings and abuse, and, like a madman, to excite everyone to murder, saying “What do ye? Why do ye hesitate? Oh, sluggish and inert, why do we not lay hands upon them, and pull all these fellows to pieces?”’4 The ‘enemy’ does not confine himself to a verbal assault. Seizing a brand of wood, he begins to flail about with it at the assembled worshippers, and his entourage follow suit. A full-scale riot ensues:
Much blood is shed; there is a confused flight, in the midst of which that enemy attacked James, and threw him headlong from the top of the steps; and supposing him to be dead, he cared not to inflict further violence upon him.5
James, however, is not dead. According to the ‘Recognitions’, his supporters carry him back to his house in Jerusalem. The next morning, before dawn, the injured man and his supporters flee the city, making their way to
