The historal jesus and the literary imagination, 1860 -1920

256 the historical jesus and the literary imagination to The Brook Kerith.43 The character of Nicodemus, who appears only in John, is portrayed as one of Jesus’s more eccentric followers. Moore develops the spare Gospel portrait of the literal-minded Pharisee into that of an exotically attired young man ‘with a taste for the beauty of engraved swords’ (BK 204), creating an amusing foil to the reserved and fastidious Joseph. And though Joseph of Arimathea makes a fleeting appearance in all four Gospel accounts, Moore chooses to base his simulacrum on Matthew’s description of him as ‘a rich man’ (Matthew 27:57). The distinction that comes from the adjective ‘rich’ generates one of the chief energies of the novel: the plight of a devoted disciple excluded on account of his wealth. Disregarding contemporary theorizing about the historical reliability of individual Gospels, Moore steers an impressionistic course through the New Testament narratives. In this way, he establishes a spirit of textual openness, allowing him to adapt his source to serve his novelistic purposes: Joseph can be presented as the sole mourner at the foot of the cross (BK 228), Mary and Martha can be charged with preparing Christ’s body for burial (BK 235), and the Magdalene can be all but erased from the story.

In some instances, Moore goes further than simply reconfiguring the Gospel records, adding episodes and characters entirely from his own imagination. These additions are rarely successful, frequently jarring with the prevailing tone of the novel. This is certainly the case with the sub-plot concerning two young women, Ruth and Rachel, who vie for the attention of the same young man. It is a rivalry that results in the loser, Rachel, murdering the victor: a scenario more suited to a Victorian melodrama than a retelling of the life of Jesus.

The story develops even more outlandishly as, just before Ruth is to be buried, Jesus raises her from the dead. Furious at being thwarted in her revenge, Rachel dashes over to her resuscitated enemy, only to be quelled by the gaze of Jesus, and ‘like one overwhelmed with a great love she cast herself at his feet’ (BK 177). From this time forward, Rachel takes on the role of Mary Magdalene, renouncing her life of the flesh along with all her wealth and finery. Unable to resist the eroticism of the sexually promiscuous woman worshipping a celibate master, Moore offers the reader the titillating picture of Rachel weaving her own golden comb through Jesus’s hair, a fictional readjustment to Luke’s account of the sinful woman using her hair to wipe Christ’s feet. Yet, unlike the Magdalene of the Gospels, Rachel is kept very much in the background in a novel that affords women little