Review: The Last Temptation of Christ by Nikos Kanzantzakis
My Quick Take: After starting strong, this book challenged my persistence to read to the end. I loved some of the themes, though at times I was bothered by the author’s choices in depicting them.
***
“The foundations of the world were shaken because man’s heart was shaken, crushed under the stones which men called Jerusalem, under the prophecies, the Second Comings, the anathemas, under the Pharisees and the Sadducees, the rich who ate, the poor who were hungry, and under the Lord Jehovah, from whose beard and moustaches the blood of mankind had been running for centuries upon centuries into the abyss.”I first read this book when I was in my late teens, and I remember appreciating it. The novel has been dogged by controversy, banned in different places by different institutions, and Kazantzakis was subject to an attempted excommunication by the Greek Orthodox Church. It’s all because he chooses to imagine Jesus struggling with the temptations of the flesh: the longing to have a wife, a family and live as a normal man. He finally rejects this temptation held out to him while he hangs on the cross, but the very idea was enough to enrage people.
The opening sections were harsh, with Jesus–the son of a carpenter–making crosses in his family workshop that will be used for the Romans to crucify his compatriots, and I loved that idea. Jesus struggles so hard against the dawning suspicion that he is the prophesied Messiah that he aids his enemy in the most despised fashion, like a reaction formation defense. “I shall make crosses all my life, so that the Messiahs you choose can be crucified!”
Drawn to Mary Magdalene as a teen, he’s struck by a seizure-like event when he approaches her. Unable to marry her, he sinks into despair, and she falls into prostitution.
I loved the themes! Kazantzakis addresses the way to save the masses: love or violent rebellion? Jesus starts with love, but we see him gradually move to a more revolutionary mindset. Even more prominent is the exploration of the values of faith and godliness via the spirit (represented by God’s plan for his son) vs. the flesh (represented by fertility, the hearth and home).
Kazantzakis writes an extremely revealing Prologue, revealing himself as a man who has struggled with these issues and finds himself brought closer to Christ and salvation through writing this book, and these excerpts shed light on his thought and writing process:
“This book is not a biography; it is the confession of every man who struggles. In publishing it I have fulfilled my duty, the duty of a person who has struggled much, was much embittered in his life, and had many hopes.”
“My principle anguish and the source of all my joys and sorrows from my youth onward has been the incessant, merciless battle between the spirit and the flesh.”
“Struggle between the flesh and the spirit, rebellion and resistance, reconciliation and submission, and finally–the supreme purpose of the struggle–union with God: this was the ascent taken by Christ, the ascent which he invites us to take as well, following in his bloody tracks.”
“Every moment of Christ’s life is a conflict and a victory…Reaching the summit of Golgotha, he mounted the Cross.
But even there his struggle did not end. Temptation–the Last Temptation–was waiting for him upon the Cross. Before the fainted eyes of the Crucified the spirit of the Evil One, in an instantaneous flash, unfolded the deceptive vision of a calm and happy life…Temptation fought until the very last moment to lead him astray, and Temptation was defeated.”
As much as I can appreciate the themes presented, I struggled with the divide between the masculine and the feminine. Females started out strong in this book. Mary Magdalene is fierce at first, as she rejects Jesus’ pity:
“My principle anguish and the source of all my joys and sorrows from my youth onward has been the incessant, merciless battle between the spirit and the flesh.”
“Struggle between the flesh and the spirit, rebellion and resistance, reconciliation and submission, and finally–the supreme purpose of the struggle–union with God: this was the ascent taken by Christ, the ascent which he invites us to take as well, following in his bloody tracks.”
“Every moment of Christ’s life is a conflict and a victory…Reaching the summit of Golgotha, he mounted the Cross.
But even there his struggle did not end. Temptation–the Last Temptation–was waiting for him upon the Cross. Before the fainted eyes of the Crucified the spirit of the Evil One, in an instantaneous flash, unfolded the deceptive vision of a calm and happy life…Temptation fought until the very last moment to lead him astray, and Temptation was defeated.”
As much as I can appreciate the themes presented, I struggled with the divide between the masculine and the feminine. Females started out strong in this book. Mary Magdalene is fierce at first, as she rejects Jesus’ pity:
“'Mary, listen to me, let me speak, don’t fall into despair. That’s exactly what I’ve come for, my sister: to pull you out of the mud. I have committed many sins–I’m on my way to the desert now to expiate them–many sins, Mary, but your calamity weighs on me the most.'
Magdalene thrust her sharp nails toward the unexpected guest, maniacally, as though she wanted to tear open his cheeks.
'What calamity?" she shrieked. 'I’m getting along fine, just fine; I don’t need your holiness’s compassion! I fight my own fight, all alone, and I ask no help from men, or from gods or devils either. I’m fighting to save myself, and save myself I will.'"
Magdalene thrust her sharp nails toward the unexpected guest, maniacally, as though she wanted to tear open his cheeks.
'What calamity?" she shrieked. 'I’m getting along fine, just fine; I don’t need your holiness’s compassion! I fight my own fight, all alone, and I ask no help from men, or from gods or devils either. I’m fighting to save myself, and save myself I will.'"
When Jesus plans to find refuge from his torment in a monastery, he tells an old woman on the road his plans. She is incensed. “...don’t you know that God is found not in monasteries but in the homes of men! Wherever you find husband and wife, that’s where you find God; wherever children and petty cares and cooking and arguments and reconciliations, that’s where God is too.”
But the feminine–represented by the home, the earth, children and family–was lesser, coming off as devalued. Magdalene, and other women, gradually lost their power as the novel progressed; in fact, they literally lost their voices, unable to speak on the eve of the crucifixion. More insidiously, the feminine is portrayed as the Temptation that the author refers to: a symbol of human failing. It is the seduction of an easy way out at the cost of denying one’s divine nature, and is soundly rejected in the end. Ouch.
Additionally, I felt the writing was a bit haphazard, with passages and whole sections of the book that went on for longer than they should. There was a bit too much of Jesus and other characters prevaricating on whether or not he is the Messiah. Sometimes the prose seemed overwrought and dramatic. By the end of the book, it’s understood that Jesus is the Son of God, but even so, it’s a tiny bit nebulous. I’m not sure if I’m missing something more direct that suggests he is, but I was left with some doubt even at the end.
All that said, I liked the edge that Kazantzakis gave to retelling the life of Jesus–son of the carpenter and son of Mary. He was clever with the way he related the Biblical stories, and cheeky when it came to playing fast and loose with the truth. Matthew, the disciple, former reviled tax collector and author of one of the Gospels, picks and chooses carefully what he writes down in his journal. He’s informed by his own penchant for a good narrative, but also the apparition of an angel who speaks to him in whispers daily, instructing him on what to write down. Delusion, or divine manipulation? It’s not clear.
And Lazerus is resurrected (probably? The true nature of “miracles” is nebulous in Kanzantzakis' fiction) in a horrific way. His rebirth is appalling, as he is dirty with earth, bloated and stinking, a rotting corpse recalled to life. One can’t help but think that this is out of natural order, and he would have been better off in his crypt. As Jesus trudges his path from love to ferocity, even his miracles become an abomination.
Near the end of the book, while Jesus is living out his Last Temptation as a man with a wife and children, the converted apostle Paul confronts him with rage and disdain, in one of the more powerful scenes. He’s created his own myth of Jesus Christ dying on the cross in order to convert the masses, and he doesn’t need the real Jesus anymore. He’s a fiery convert, but Jesus protests, disingenuously, “I said only one word, brought only one message: Love. Love–nothing else.”
Paul replies: “By saying ‘Love’ you let loose all the angels and demons that were asleep within the bowels of mankind. ‘Love' is not, as you think, a simple, tranquil word. Within it lie armies being massacred, burning cities, and much blood. Rivers of blood, rivers of tears: the face of the earth has changed.”
I am quite familiar with the Bible, with its stories and teachings. I don’t think that one has to be a Christian or at all overly spiritual to appreciate this novel; however, a good working knowledge of the life of Jesus and the Biblical text would be a huge asset here, as much of the interest is derived from comparing the events from the original material and Kazantzakis’ reimagining.
As I closed the book, I have to acknowledge my very mixed feelings about this novel, while giving it a lot of credit for some creative and fresh takes on the life of Jesus, as a fictional retelling. I liked the edginess of the text and the deep themes of internal spiritual struggle, while stumbling over the devalued feminine. It is provocative and provides an excellent medium for introspection and contemplation.
But the feminine–represented by the home, the earth, children and family–was lesser, coming off as devalued. Magdalene, and other women, gradually lost their power as the novel progressed; in fact, they literally lost their voices, unable to speak on the eve of the crucifixion. More insidiously, the feminine is portrayed as the Temptation that the author refers to: a symbol of human failing. It is the seduction of an easy way out at the cost of denying one’s divine nature, and is soundly rejected in the end. Ouch.
Additionally, I felt the writing was a bit haphazard, with passages and whole sections of the book that went on for longer than they should. There was a bit too much of Jesus and other characters prevaricating on whether or not he is the Messiah. Sometimes the prose seemed overwrought and dramatic. By the end of the book, it’s understood that Jesus is the Son of God, but even so, it’s a tiny bit nebulous. I’m not sure if I’m missing something more direct that suggests he is, but I was left with some doubt even at the end.
All that said, I liked the edge that Kazantzakis gave to retelling the life of Jesus–son of the carpenter and son of Mary. He was clever with the way he related the Biblical stories, and cheeky when it came to playing fast and loose with the truth. Matthew, the disciple, former reviled tax collector and author of one of the Gospels, picks and chooses carefully what he writes down in his journal. He’s informed by his own penchant for a good narrative, but also the apparition of an angel who speaks to him in whispers daily, instructing him on what to write down. Delusion, or divine manipulation? It’s not clear.
And Lazerus is resurrected (probably? The true nature of “miracles” is nebulous in Kanzantzakis' fiction) in a horrific way. His rebirth is appalling, as he is dirty with earth, bloated and stinking, a rotting corpse recalled to life. One can’t help but think that this is out of natural order, and he would have been better off in his crypt. As Jesus trudges his path from love to ferocity, even his miracles become an abomination.
Near the end of the book, while Jesus is living out his Last Temptation as a man with a wife and children, the converted apostle Paul confronts him with rage and disdain, in one of the more powerful scenes. He’s created his own myth of Jesus Christ dying on the cross in order to convert the masses, and he doesn’t need the real Jesus anymore. He’s a fiery convert, but Jesus protests, disingenuously, “I said only one word, brought only one message: Love. Love–nothing else.”
Paul replies: “By saying ‘Love’ you let loose all the angels and demons that were asleep within the bowels of mankind. ‘Love' is not, as you think, a simple, tranquil word. Within it lie armies being massacred, burning cities, and much blood. Rivers of blood, rivers of tears: the face of the earth has changed.”
I am quite familiar with the Bible, with its stories and teachings. I don’t think that one has to be a Christian or at all overly spiritual to appreciate this novel; however, a good working knowledge of the life of Jesus and the Biblical text would be a huge asset here, as much of the interest is derived from comparing the events from the original material and Kazantzakis’ reimagining.
As I closed the book, I have to acknowledge my very mixed feelings about this novel, while giving it a lot of credit for some creative and fresh takes on the life of Jesus, as a fictional retelling. I liked the edginess of the text and the deep themes of internal spiritual struggle, while stumbling over the devalued feminine. It is provocative and provides an excellent medium for introspection and contemplation.
Comments
Post a Comment