Even as a freshman, as I was being adopted by ancient historian Marvin Powell, I was aware of having an affinity for Hebrews in the New Testament that I didn't have as strongly for the Letter to the Romans, despite Romans' making up the core of a lot of students' Christianities. But it was from the passages in Romans dealing with Jewish-Christians' and Gentile Christians' mutual understanding that I drew the most, to the point where I was in utter disbelief in my Western History survey courses to hear for the first time that there was a heritage of bigotry toward Jews among some Christians in the medieval period. This couldn't be true, I thought: Paul so clearly forbade anything of the sort. And yet, so it turned out.
So in Professor Boyarin I am currently finding that directness that I so appreciate: that fundamental lack of fear in saying exactly what one's position is on the crucial questions, and not needing to avoid telling the other what you think is incorrect in their belief – in this case, an Orthodox Jew's denial of Jesus of Nazareth as Messiah, much less as part of the Godhead. To my mind, only when you can say that, can you really start to live with or even love the other. The weak substitution of bloodless "tolerance" and a mutual watering-down of our identities in order to be accommodating to one another is simply weak-minded self-destruction. We saw this particularly in this last week, where the last thing in the world that should surprise any reasonable person or any reasonable Muslim is that the Roman Catholic Pope would think Islam incorrect in some aspect of its belief. And we were all treated to the bitter irony of a critical reflection being made about religious violence, only to result in religious violence, and the odd spectacle of the bulk of Western media (reflexively?) lining up against the papacy, and against the very rights of unrestricted inquiry and self-expression of which those media outlets think themselves the champions.
There was a deep honesty here, and inquiry without fear, it seemed, of the other, and a deep appreciation of the mutual core Rabbinic Judaism and Christianity share, and that has often been obscured. I'll likely have to write him. I'm digging particularly into his work – this being a recent publication I didn't use for my doctoral exams – on the rise of Christian Logos theology, since I'm resurrecting (so to speak) my exam material on the Jewish mystical roots of the Prologue to the Gospel of John. As I mentioned earlier, I'll be speaking on that next month to the Seminar on the Jewish Roots of Eastern Christian Mysticism.