Jesus: The false vengeful God demands such needless sacrifice

The Gospel of Judas unveils a radical reinterpretation of Jesus Christ—one that rejects the theology of blood sacrifice and exposes the false, vengeful god who demands suffering. In this esoteric gospel, Jesus entrusts Judas with the Mysteries of the Kingdom, revealing a transcendent cosmology rooted in the Great Invisible Spirit. Salvation is not achieved through martyrdom, but through Self-realization and the awakening of the divine spark within. This suppressed revelation challenges institutional dogma and reclaims the inner path to liberation, guided by the true God of Light and Consciousness.

“In the second century CE, Christianity as we know it was solidifying under the auspices of bishops and clergy. Recent discoveries show that other interpretations of Jesus' death co-existed with the now dominate view. In other words, Christianity was not as homogenous as tradition suggests. Over time the fringe groups, along with their documents, were suppressed and outlawed as heretical. The Gospel of Judas, argue the authors, represents one of these alternate, or dissenting, ideologies. At the time of its composition Christian persecution was widespread and expanding. Certain founders of the nascent church, such as Tertullian, Ireneaus, and Heracleon, began to glorify the suffering of those who were killed in horrifying and unimaginable ways by the then pagan Roman government. Others Christians followed them 'to glory' and met similar ghastly ends. Pagels and King argue that the Gospel of Judas' fervent anger stems from the church's encouragement of martyrdom. The 'false vengeful God,' according to the Jesus of the Gospel of Judas, demands such needless sacrifice. But the 'true God' never would. Jesus demands that the Apostles 'cease sacrificing!' So was the Gospel of Judas a protest piece? Maybe. It definitely paints an alternate picture of Jesus and Christianity.”

From Great Deceiver to Bosom Buddy
June 11, 2007, By ewomack "ewomack" (MN USA)

Judas Iscariot has played the role of Christianity's ultimate traitor for centuries. Tradition, as portrayed in the synoptic gospels, claims that he handed Jesus over to the Romans for thirty silver pieces. This vile act led to Jesus' crucifixion and death. So repugnant was this that his name has become synonymous with deceit and betrayal. For example, when Bob Dylan abandoned folk music for electric rock in 1966, an appalled audience member at the Royal Albert Hall yelled "Judas!" Right or wrong, everyone knew what that single name implied. Some cheered, some hissed. Pope Benedict XVI upheld the tradition in 2006 by accusing Judas of greed and power mongering. And why did the leader of the Catholic Church feel the need to reiterate this well-worn point in the twenty-first century? Because the long lost Gospel of Judas had resurfaced. A translation of this document's extant text appears in Part Two of "Reading Judas.” Written sometime before 180 CE, the short gospel inverts tradition by depicting Judas as Jesus' most trusted Apostle, as his bosom buddy, his confidante. Not only that, Jesus shares the "mysteries of the Kingdom" with this great deceiver. And only with him. The gospel portrays the other Apostles as weak and conniving dolts who, according to Jesus, worship the wrong God through cruel sacrifice. Jesus' delineation of the "Mysteries" evoke elements similar to Pythagorianism, Platonism, Vedanta, and Buddhism. Certain sections of the gospel read more like Plato's "Timaeus" than the New Testament. In these passages, Jesus outlines a mystical mathematical transcendental cosmology involving a pantheon of lesser imperfect gods, one of which, called Saklas, created humanity, and the all knowing all seeing "Great Invisible Spirit" (the "real God") from which everything emanates. Humans have this Spirit within them, but they must search for it by examining the Self. Jesus' death will serve as an example to humankind that they can escape their physical bodies and enter the Heavenly Kingdom via the discovery of this inner Spirit. Jesus entrusts Judas with initiating this sacred event. Judas then identifies Jesus to the accusers as instructed, receives some copper coins, and the text ends. Thus does Judas become, in this long lost gospel, the catalyst to humanity's salvation. Judas also sees the vision of his demise. The other Apostles will apparently stone him to death. But, as Jesus points out, such is the price for the "Mysteries of the Kingdom.”

Part One of "Reading Judas" analyzes the Gospel in historical context. Drawing from voluminous sources, including the Bible, other Gnostic gospels, and various miscellaneous ancient texts, the essay's authors, Pagels and King, frame the Gospel of Judas as a text infused with anger. What caused this anger? In the second century CE, Christianity as we know it was solidifying under the auspices of bishops and clergy. Recent discoveries show that other interpretations of Jesus' death co-existed with the now dominate view. In other words, Christianity was not as homogenous as tradition suggests. Over time the fringe groups, along with their documents, were suppressed and outlawed as heretical. The Gospel of Judas, argue the authors, represents one of these alternate, or dissenting, ideologies. At the time of its composition Christian persecution was widespread and expanding. Certain founders of the nascent church, such as Tertullian, Ireneaus, and Heracleon, began to glorify the suffering of those who were killed in horrifying and unimaginable ways by the then pagan Roman government. Others Christians followed them "to glory" and met similar ghastly ends. Pagels and King argue that the Gopel of Judas' fervent anger stems from the church's encouragement of martyrdom. The "false vengeful God," according to the Jesus of the Gospel of Judas, demands such needless sacrifice. But the "true God" never would. Jesus demands that the Apostles "cease sacrificing!" So was the Gospel of Judas a protest piece? Maybe. It definitely paints an alternate picture of Jesus and Christianity.

Overall, "Reading Judas" enables general readers to grasp the document's significance. Most helpful are the some forty pages of commentary that accompany the translation. Though Pagels and King claim that this gospel doesn't belong in the Christian canon, they argue that it nonetheless demonstrates that the Christianity we have today was written by the winners. And those winners suppressed dissent so effectively that the Gospel of Judas, among others, remained lost for almost two millennia. All together, these ancient texts help scholars piece together the story of Christianity's development. "Reading Judas," though unlikely to alter anyone's faith, provides fascinating and provocative glimpses into the history of western civilization's dominant religion.

Reading Judas: The Gospel of Judas and the Shaping of Christianity
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The False Vengeful God: Deconstructing Sacrificial Theology from Gospel of Judas to René Girard

Introduction

The provocative phrase, “The false vengeful God demands such needless sacrifice,” encapsulates a profound theological challenge that has echoed through the centuries, from the suppressed Gnostic gospels of the early Christian era to the contemporary critiques of sacrificial religion. This paper will explore this challenge, taking as its starting point the analysis of the Gospel of Judas, a second-century text that starkly contrasts the “true God” with a “false vengeful God” who delights in suffering and sacrifice. The paper will argue that this ancient Gnostic critique offers a powerful lens through which to deconstruct sacrificial theologies, a critique that is further illuminated and amplified by modern theological and anthropological theories, particularly the work of René Girard on mimetic theory and the scapegoat mechanism.

By placing the Gospel of Judas in its historical context—a period of intense persecution and a burgeoning culture of martyrdom within the nascent Christian church—this paper will demonstrate how the Gnostic rejection of a sacrificial God was not merely a theological abstraction but a direct response to the lived experience of violence and suffering. The paper will then trace the intellectual lineage of this critique, showing how it resonates with contemporary thinkers who have sought to disentangle the divine from the human propensity for violence. Through an analysis of Girard’s work, the paper will explore how the scapegoat mechanism provides a compelling explanation for the origin of sacrificial religion and how the Christian narrative, in its most radical interpretation, can be seen as a revelation and subversion of this mechanism.

Furthermore, the paper will incorporate the insights of Walter Wink, whose concept of the “Powers That Be” offers a framework for understanding the systemic and spiritual forces that perpetuate violence and create “false gods” to legitimize it. By synthesizing these diverse perspectives, the paper will argue that the “false vengeful God” is not a divine reality but a human projection, a deification of our own violence and mimetic rivalries. In doing so, the paper will advocate for a non-violent, non-sacrificial understanding of God, a theological move that has profound implications for contemporary religious thought and practice. Ultimately, this paper seeks to demonstrate that the ancient Gnostic challenge to sacrificial theology remains as urgent and relevant today as it was in the second century, calling us to a more just and compassionate understanding of both God and humanity.

Chapter 1: The Gospel of Judas and the Critique of Martyrdom

The rediscovery of the Gospel of Judas in the late 20th century provided a dramatic and unsettling challenge to traditional Christian narratives. This second-century Gnostic text, once denounced as heresy by early church fathers like Irenaeus, offers a radical reinterpretation of the roles of Jesus and Judas, and, most significantly for this paper, a profound critique of the concept of a God who demands sacrifice. The Gospel of Judas presents a stark dichotomy between a “true God” of spiritual enlightenment and a “false vengeful God” who revels in the blood of martyrs. This chapter will analyze the Gospel of Judas within its historical context, exploring its critique of the burgeoning culture of martyrdom in early Christianity and its rejection of a sacrificial theology.

The historical context in which the Gospel of Judas emerged is crucial to understanding its central message. Written sometime before 180 CE, the gospel circulated during a period of intense persecution of Christians by the Roman Empire. As Elaine Pagels and Karen King have argued, this era saw the rise of a “martyrdom culture” within the nascent orthodox Christian community. Church leaders such as Tertullian and Irenaeus began to glorify the suffering of those who were brutally executed for their faith, portraying their deaths as a noble sacrifice and a path to glory. As the source material from Adishakti.org notes, “Certain founders of the nascent church...began to glorify the suffering of those who were killed in horrifying and unimaginable ways by the then pagan Roman government. Others Christians followed them ‘to glory’ and met similar ghastly ends”[1].

It is against this backdrop of glorified suffering that the Gospel of Judas launches its vehement protest. The Jesus of this gospel is not a willing sacrificial victim, nor does he desire his followers to embrace martyrdom. On the contrary, he explicitly commands his disciples to “cease sacrificing!”[1]. The text portrays the twelve apostles, who represent the emerging orthodox church leadership, as misguided and worshipping the wrong god. In a pivotal passage, Jesus laughs at the apostles for praying to their god, whom he identifies with the lesser, ignorant creator-god of the Old Testament, the demiurge, rather than the true, transcendent God. This false god, the gospel argues, is the one who demands the “needless sacrifice” of martyrdom.

The Gospel of Judas thus represents a powerful dissenting voice against the dominant theological trajectory of the early church. It posits that the glorification of martyrdom is a perversion of Jesus’s true message, a message focused not on physical suffering and death, but on the pursuit of gnosis—spiritual knowledge and enlightenment. As Pagels explains, “the Gospel of Judas challenges the idea that God wants people to die as martyrs—just as it challenges the idea that God wanted Jesus to die”[2]. Instead of a sacrificial lamb, the Jesus of this gospel is a spiritual guide who entrusts his most profound secrets to Judas, the only disciple who truly understands him. Judas’s so-called “betrayal” is reframed as an act of obedience, a necessary step to help Jesus escape his physical body and return to the spiritual realm.

This Gnostic perspective radically redefines the nature of God and salvation. The “true God” of the Gospel of Judas is not a wrathful deity who requires a blood sacrifice to appease his anger, but a transcendent, unknowable being who desires the spiritual liberation of humanity. Salvation is not achieved through martyrdom or vicarious atonement, but through the individual’s journey of self-discovery and the awakening of the divine spark within. The critique of the “false vengeful God” is therefore not merely a rejection of martyrdom, but a fundamental challenge to the entire sacrificial logic that was coming to dominate Christian theology.

In conclusion, the Gospel of Judas offers a vital counter-narrative to the orthodox Christian understanding of God, sacrifice, and salvation. By situating the text within its historical context of persecution and the rise of a martyrdom culture, we can see its critique of the “false vengeful God” as a powerful and necessary protest against the deification of violence. This ancient Gnostic challenge, as we will see in the following chapters, finds a remarkable and insightful parallel in the work of contemporary thinkers who have sought to expose the violent roots of sacrificial religion.

Chapter 2: The Scapegoat Mechanism: René Girard’s Anthropological Insight

Nearly two millennia after the Gospel of Judas was written and suppressed, the French literary critic and anthropological philosopher René Girard developed a theory that provides a powerful framework for understanding the Gnostic critique of sacrificial religion. Girard’s work on mimetic theory and the scapegoat mechanism, developed through a lifetime of analyzing literature, myth, and religious texts, offers a profound insight into the origins of human violence and the function of sacrifice in culture. This chapter will explore Girard’s key concepts, demonstrating how his anthropological insights resonate with and illuminate the Gnostic rejection of a “false vengeful God.”

At the heart of Girard’s theory is the concept of mimetic desire. Humans, Girard argues, are fundamentally imitative creatures. We learn, desire, and even form our identities by imitating others. However, this mimetic nature has a dark side. When we imitate another’s desire, we inevitably come to desire the same objects, leading to rivalry and conflict. As an article on VoegelinView explains, “because we also imitate each other’s desires, other people become our rivals, as we compete for the same things”[3]. In times of crisis, this mimetic rivalry can escalate into a “war of all against all,” threatening to tear the community apart.

To resolve this crisis, Girard argues, human communities instinctively and unconsciously converge on a single individual or group—the scapegoat. This victim is blamed for all the community’s problems, and through a process of “unanimity minus one,” the community unites in its collective hatred and violence against the scapegoat. The murder or expulsion of the scapegoat brings a temporary peace, and the community is saved from its own self-destructive violence. This, for Girard, is the origin of sacrifice and, indeed, of all human culture.

However, a crucial and insidious transformation occurs after the scapegoat’s death. The victim, who was once seen as the source of all evil, is now paradoxically viewed as the source of the community’s salvation. The collective murder is reinterpreted as a sacred and necessary act. This is what Girard calls the “mythic lie.” The violent act of immolation, which the Greeks called thyia, is retrospectively transformed into a voluntary act of renunciation, or askesis. As the VoegelinView article elaborates:

This is precisely the dynamic that the Gospel of Judas critiques. The “false vengeful God” who demands the “needless sacrifice” of martyrs is the deification of the scapegoat mechanism. It is a god created in the image of human violence, a god who requires a steady stream of victims to maintain social order. The Gnostic rejection of this god is a rejection of the mythic lie, an unmasking of the violent origins of sacrificial religion.

For Girard, the ultimate revelation of the scapegoat mechanism comes from the Bible, and particularly from the Christian Gospels. Unlike myth, which tells the story from the perspective of the persecutors, the Gospels tell the story from the perspective of the innocent victim, Jesus. The crucifixion, in Girard’s reading, is not a sacrifice demanded by a vengeful God, but the ultimate exposure of humanity’s scapegoating violence. God does not demand the death of Jesus; rather, humanity murders him, and in doing so, reveals the injustice of the entire sacrificial system. As the VoegelinView article puts it, “God/Jesus died to stop us sinning by revealing the scapegoat mechanism”[3].

In this light, the Gnostic critique in the Gospel of Judas can be seen as an early, intuitive grasp of the same truth that Girard would later articulate in his anthropological theory. The Gnostic distinction between the “true God” and the “false vengeful God” is a distinction between a God who is complicit in human violence and a God who stands in solidarity with the victim. The Gnostic rejection of martyrdom is a rejection of the logic of the scapegoat, a refusal to participate in the cycle of sacred violence.

In conclusion, René Girard’s theory of the scapegoat mechanism provides a powerful modern lens through which to understand and appreciate the ancient Gnostic critique of sacrificial theology. By exposing the violent roots of sacrificial religion, Girard’s work allows us to see the “false vengeful God” not as a divine reality, but as a projection of our own mimetic violence. The Gnostic call to “cease sacrificing” is thus not merely a rejection of a particular religious practice, but a call to a more profound conversion, a turning away from the scapegoating logic that has plagued humanity since its origins.

Chapter 3: The “Powers That Be”: Walter Wink and the Domination System

Building on the critique of sacrificial violence found in both the Gospel of Judas and the work of René Girard, the theologian Walter Wink provides a crucial political and social dimension to our understanding of the “false vengeful God.” Wink’s groundbreaking trilogy on the “Powers” offers a framework for comprehending the systemic and spiritual forces that shape human existence, forces that often manifest as idolatrous and violent systems demanding sacrifice. This chapter will explore Wink’s concept of the Powers and the “Domination System,” connecting them to the Gnostic critique of the “false vengeful God” and demonstrating how this ancient theological challenge has profound implications for our understanding of contemporary social and political structures.

Wink’s central thesis is that the biblical language of “principalities and powers,” “thrones,” and “dominions” refers not to a host of literal demonic beings in the sky, but to the inner and outer manifestations of the systems that govern our lives. As Wink himself puts it, the Powers are the “spiritual ‘forces’ that we encounter”[4]. These can include political ideologies, economic systems, social institutions, and even religious traditions. Each Power has both a visible, external dimension (e.g., a government, a corporation) and an invisible, internal dimension (the “spirituality” or ethos of that institution). The problem arises when these Powers become idolatrous, demanding absolute allegiance and functioning as “false gods.”

This idolatry gives rise to what Wink calls the “Domination System,” a self-perpetuating cycle of violence, injustice, and oppression. The Domination System is the overarching Power that has governed human societies for most of history. It is characterized by a top-down hierarchy, a belief in redemptive violence, and a demand for absolute obedience. As one review of Wink’s work notes, “Walter Wink offers important insights into the social and political relevance of the gospel today”[5]. The “false vengeful God” of the Gospel of Judas can be understood as the theological legitimation of the Domination System. This is the god of empire, the god of war, the god who demands the sacrifice of the young, the poor, and the marginalized to maintain the status quo.

The critique of this false god is not merely a matter of personal belief; it is a political act of resistance against the Domination System. Wink argues that Jesus’s ministry was a direct challenge to the Powers, an unmasking of their idolatry and a proclamation of a new way of being—the “Kingdom of God.” This Kingdom is not a future utopia but a present reality that can be entered into through a radical commitment to non-violence, justice, and love. Jesus’s death on the cross is not a sacrifice to appease a vengeful God, but the ultimate act of non-violent resistance to the Powers, an exposure of their bankruptcy and a victory over their dominion.

In this sense, Wink’s theology provides a powerful contemporary echo of the Gnostic message in the Gospel of Judas. The Gnostic rejection of the demiurge, the lesser creator-god who demands sacrifice, is a rejection of the god of the Domination System. The Gnostic emphasis on gnosis, or spiritual enlightenment, is a call to awaken from the spell of the Powers, to see through their illusions and to embrace the true God of liberation and love. The Gnostic critique of martyrdom is a refusal to participate in the logic of redemptive violence that undergirds the Domination System.

By integrating Wink’s analysis of the Powers, we can see that the “false vengeful God” is not simply a theological error but a political and social reality. It is the deification of the status quo, the sanctification of oppression, and the spiritual justification for violence. The challenge posed by the Gospel of Judas, and amplified by the work of Girard and Wink, is to unmask these false gods and to commit ourselves to the true God who stands with the oppressed, who liberates the captive, and who calls us to a life of non-violent resistance and radical love.

Chapter 4: Deconstructing the False Vengeful God: A Theological Synthesis

The preceding chapters have traced a powerful and persistent critique of sacrificial theology, from the ancient Gnostic protest in the Gospel of Judas to the modern anthropological and political insights of René Girard and Walter Wink. This chapter will synthesize these diverse perspectives, arguing that the concept of the “false vengeful God” is not merely a theological abstraction but a crucial hermeneutic for deconstructing the projection of human violence onto the divine. By weaving together the threads of Gnostic dissent, Girardian anthropology, and Wink’s political theology, we can arrive at a more robust and ethically compelling understanding of God, one that stands in stark opposition to the logic of sacrifice.

The synthesis begins with the recognition that the “false vengeful God” is a human creation, a theological projection born from the crucible of our own violence. As Girard’s theory of the scapegoat mechanism so powerfully demonstrates, human communities have, from their inception, managed their internal conflicts through the ritualized murder of a victim. The “peace” that follows this act is then attributed to the victim, who is posthumously deified. This deified victim, who “demands” sacrifice to maintain order, is the archetypal “false vengeful God.” It is a god created in our own violent image, a god that legitimizes our scapegoating tendencies and perpetuates the cycle of sacred violence. The Gnostics, in their own way, recognized this. Their distinction between the flawed, ignorant demiurge who creates the world and demands sacrifice, and the transcendent, unknowable true God, is an intuitive grasp of the difference between a god of our own making and the true nature of the divine.

Walter Wink’s concept of the “Powers” and the “Domination System” provides the social and political scaffolding for this theological projection. The “false vengeful God” is the spiritual legitimation of the Domination System. It is the god of empire, the god of nationalism, the god of any system that demands the sacrifice of individuals for the sake of the collective. This god is invoked to justify war, to sanctify oppression, and to quell dissent. The Gnostic critique of the god of the Old Testament, who commands genocide and demands blood sacrifice, can be seen as a critique of the god of the Domination System, a god who is all too easily co-opted by the powers that be.

The crucial move in deconstructing this false god is the revelation of the victim’s innocence. This is the central insight of both the Gospel of Judas and Girard’s reading of the Christian Gospels. In the Gospel of Judas, Jesus is not a willing sacrifice to a vengeful God, but a spiritual teacher who seeks to liberate humanity from the clutches of the demiurge. His death is not a divine requirement but a tragic consequence of the ignorance of the Powers. Similarly, for Girard, the crucifixion is the ultimate unmasking of the scapegoat mechanism. It reveals the innocence of the victim and the culpability of the crowd. The God of Jesus is not the one who demands the sacrifice, but the one who stands in solidarity with the sacrificed. This is the true God, the God who subverts the logic of sacred violence from within.

This deconstruction of the “false vengeful God” has profound implications for contemporary theology, particularly for doctrines of the atonement. Traditional theories, such as penal substitution, which portray the crucifixion as a payment for sin to a wrathful God, are rendered deeply problematic. From a Girardian and Gnostic perspective, these theories appear to be a regression to the logic of the scapegoat, a remythologizing of the Christian story that once again places God in the role of the sacred executioner. A non-sacrificial theology, by contrast, understands the death of Jesus not as a transaction with a vengeful God, but as the ultimate revelation of God’s unconditional love and solidarity with suffering humanity. It is a revelation that exposes the bankruptcy of violence and calls us to a new way of being, a way of non-violent love and radical forgiveness.

In conclusion, the synthesis of Gnostic, Girardian, and Winkian thought provides a powerful and coherent framework for deconstructing the “false vengeful God” of sacrificial theology. This false god is a projection of our own violence, a deification of the scapegoat mechanism, and the spiritual legitimation of the Domination System. The true God, by contrast, is the God who is revealed in the innocent victim, the God who subverts the logic of sacrifice and calls us to a new community based on love, forgiveness, and non-violence. The ancient Gnostic protest against the god who “demands such needless sacrifice” is thus not a heretical deviation, but a vital and enduring insight that continues to challenge us to purify our image of God and to build a more just and compassionate world.

Conclusion

This paper has embarked on a theological and anthropological journey, beginning with the provocative assertion from the Gospel of Judas that “the false vengeful God demands such needless sacrifice.” By placing this ancient Gnostic critique in dialogue with the modern insights of René Girard and Walter Wink, we have sought to deconstruct the logic of sacrificial theology and to advocate for a non-violent understanding of the divine. The central argument of this paper has been that the “false vengeful God” is not a divine reality but a human projection, a theological legitimation of our own violence and a spiritual manifestation of the Domination System.

The Gospel of Judas, with its stark distinction between the true God of spiritual enlightenment and the false god of sacrifice, provided the initial impetus for this inquiry. We have seen how this Gnostic text, far from being a mere heretical outlier, represents a powerful and historically grounded protest against the burgeoning culture of martyrdom in early Christianity. Its rejection of a God who demands suffering is a radical call to a different kind of faith, one based on gnosis and spiritual liberation rather than on blood and sacrifice.

René Girard’s theory of the scapegoat mechanism offered a powerful anthropological framework for understanding the origins of this “false vengeful God.” By exposing the violent roots of all human culture and religion, Girard’s work allows us to see how the deification of the victim, born from the need to manage our own mimetic violence, gives rise to the myth of the sacred sacrifice. The Christian story, in Girard’s reading, is the ultimate revelation and subversion of this myth, an unmasking of the scapegoat mechanism that calls us to a new community founded on the innocence of the victim.

Walter Wink’s analysis of the “Powers” provided the crucial political and social dimension to our critique. By understanding the “false vengeful God” as the spiritual legitimation of the Domination System, we can see how sacrificial theology has been used throughout history to justify violence, oppression, and empire. The Gnostic rejection of the demiurge, and the Christian call to resist the Powers, are thus not merely theological positions but political acts of defiance against the forces of death and destruction.

The synthesis of these perspectives leads to a profound and challenging conclusion: the critique of the “false vengeful God” is a vital theological and ethical task for our time. It requires us to critically examine our own religious traditions, to unmask the ways in which they may have been co-opted by the logic of sacrifice, and to reclaim the non-violent heart of the Gospel. It calls us to a faith that stands in solidarity with the victims of violence, that resists the allure of redemptive violence, and that seeks to build a world where “needless sacrifice” is no longer demanded by any god or any system.

Ultimately, the journey from the Gospel of Judas to René Girard and beyond is a journey towards a more just and compassionate understanding of both God and humanity. It is a journey that challenges us to look beyond the gods of our own making and to embrace the true God who is revealed not in the fires of sacrifice, but in the radical and unconditional love that stands with the outcast, the marginalized, and the victims of our own violence. The ancient Gnostic protest, it turns out, is not so ancient after all. It is a living and breathing challenge that continues to call us to a more authentic and liberating faith.