Found: Gospel of Judas

Emergence of the Gospel of Judas Offers a Tangled Tale of Its Own
By BARRY MEIER and JOHN NOBLE WILFORD
Published: April 13, 2006
When the National Geographic Society announced to great fanfare last week that it had gained access to a 1,700-year-old document known as the Gospel of Judas, it described how a deteriorating manuscript, unearthed in Egypt three decades ago, had made its way through the shady alleys of the antiquities market to a safe-deposit box on Long Island and eventually to a Swiss art dealer who "rescued" it from obscurity.

The art dealer was detained several years ago in an unrelated Italian antiquities smuggling investigation. And after she failed to profit from the sale of the gospel in the private market, she struck a deal with a foundation run by her lawyer that would let her make about as much as she would have made on that sale, or more.

Later, the National Geographic Society paid the foundation to restore the manuscript and bought the rights to the text and the story about the discovery. As part of her arrangement with the foundation, the dealer, Frieda Tchacos Nussberger, stands to gain $1 million to $2 million from those National Geographic projects, her lawyer said. There may even be more.

Details of how the manuscript was found are clouded. According to National Geographic, it was found by farmers in an Egyptian cave in the 1970's, sold to a dealer and passed through various hands in Europe and the United States. Legal issues in its transit are equally vague.

No one questions the authenticity of the Judas gospel, which depicts Judas Iscariot not as a betrayer of Jesus but as his favored disciple.

But the emerging details are raising concerns among some archaeologists and other scholars at a time of growing scrutiny of the dealers who sell antiquities and of the museums and collectors who buy them. The information also calls into question the completeness of National Geographic's depiction of some individuals like Ms. Tchacos Nussberger and its disclosure of all the financial relationships involved.

Terry Garcia, the vice president for mission programs at National Geographic, which is based in Washington, said that the organization had "heard some rumors" about possible legal problems involving Ms. Tchacos Nussberger but could not confirm them. He also noted that the organization had disclosed its relationship with the foundation, the Maecenas Foundation for Ancient Art.

Mr. Garcia emphasized that he believed that issues like Ms. Tchacos Nussberger's financial relationship with the foundation or questions about other antiquities she sold were not relevant to the story of the Gospel of Judas. He added that National Geographic had taken on the project because it saw an opportunity to help save a unique document.

"It is not every day that you find a lost gospel," Mr. Garcia said.

But scholars who have campaigned against the trade in artifacts of questionable provenance said they were troubled by the whole episode.

"We are dealing with a looted object," said Jane C. Waldbaum, president of the Archaeological Institute of America, a professional society. "The artifact was poorly handled for years because the people holding it were more concerned with making money than protecting it."

For her part, Ms. Tchacos Nussberger rejected any suggestion that she was trying to profit from the Gospel of Judas. She described her run-in with Italian officials as inconsequential.

"I went through hell and back, and I saved something for humanity," Ms. Tchacos Nussberger said in a telephone interview. "I would have given it for nothing to someone who would have saved it."

Last week, National Geographic began a large campaign for the Gospel of Judas, featuring it in two new books, a television documentary, an exhibition and the May issue of National Geographic magazine.

The organization did not buy the document. Instead, it paid $1 million to the Maecenas Foundation, effectively for the manuscript's contents. Part of the revenues generated by the National Geographic projects go to the foundation.

The foundation was set up some years ago by Ms. Tchacos Nussberger's lawyer, Mario Roberty, well before it became involved with the Gospel of Judas. Mr. Roberty is the only official of the foundation, which he said was involved in projects like returning antiquities to their countries of origin. He said that when Ms. Tchacos Nussberger turned over the document to the foundation in 2001, he quickly contacted officials in Egypt and assured them that the manuscript would be returned there. He said the foundation had clear legal title to the document.

Rest of Story

The evidence is so very good as to be conclusive that Charlemagne not only did not wish to cooperate with being designated "Holy Roman Emperor," but that it annoyed him, and that he refused to accept the title, or the onus of any responsibility which it might entail. True to his Germanic tribal origins, Charlemagne, just as his father had done, divided his property among his heirs. The concept that all inheritance is partible (subject to division) is common to both Keltic and German tribes of pre-Christian Europe, and flies in the face of the concept of an established, enduring empire. Charlemagne's son, Louis the Pious, made his son Louis (said to be a favorite of Charlemagne, and raised in his court at Aachen) the "King" of Bavaria. In 843, he was made the "King" of East Francia--which is to say, the eastern Franks, by the terms of the treaty of Verdun. His brothers had fought civil wars against their father, and he had been disinherited, although no one succeeded in taking Bavaria from him. When his father died in 840, he fought his brothers (Louis the Pious had followed the old tradition, and divided his "empire" among his sons). He was the first Holy Roman Emperor in reality, and as he did not control Acquitaine or western Francia, France was never a part of the Holy Roman Empire, which was, in fact, the Holy Roman Empire of the German Nation.



Kaiser simply means Caesar, and hence, emperor. The first "Kaiser" (in the terms you are referring to) was the former King of Prussia, raised to an imperial dignity by Bismark. Wilhelm of Prussia did not want to be an emperor, and he said as much, publicly saying he was happy to be the King of Prussia, but didn't want to be Emperor. Bismark ignored that of course, and wrote the German Imperial constitution in a manner to put all the lines of power into his own (Bismark's) hands. That meant that with a strong and willful emperor such as Wilhelm II, the Chancellor, Bettmann-Holweg, was irrelevant. But it also meant that when the titular magistrate was weak, the Chancellor could exercise almost unlimited power--the most notorious example being Hitler appointed as Chancellor when Hindenburg was the senescent President of Germany. Once in the office of Chancellor, Hitler became almost unstoppable.

The title "Kaiser" in the sense that you mean ended with the deposition of Wilhelm II at the end of the Great War in 1918. That he abdicated is merely a detail, he would not have stayed in power if the Allies had been obliged to invade Germany. The term "Kaiser" was, however, also applied to the Holy Roman Emperors (just as "Tsar," another form of Caesar, was used by the Grand Dukes of Muscovy to give themselves an imperial air, in a city--Moscow--which the faithful of the Russian Orthodox Church called the third Rome). The Holy Roman Emperors were elected by German princes, usually on the basis of successful bribery. Eventually, the position was seen as almost hereditary in the line of the Habsburg Grand Dukes of Austria, although there were exceptions--the last notable acception was during the War of the Austrian Succession, when Maria Theresa could not be elected to the position, and the Electors chose Charles of Bavaria, instead of her husband, Francis of Lorraine, who did, however, succeed Charles of Bavaria. Why Charles and not Francis is an issue of the complex politics of the War of the Austrian Succession, into which i will not venture.

Napoleon beat upon on the Austrians to the point that it became just plain embarrassing. The armies of the French Revolution handed the Austrians their collective ass, but after Napoleon took power, he marched into Austria, defeated them conclusively, and named his terms. He did it more than once and occupied Vienna. After 1806, the Emperor Francis II (grandson of the Francis mentioned above), ceased to refer to himself as Holy Roman Emperor, and simply designated himself Emperor of Austria (still a significant stretch of territory, including Hungary, most of what would one day be Yugoslavia, and a large part of northern Italy). Therefore, in terms of the Holy Roman Empire, Francis II was the last Kaiser. In terms of Germany, Wilhelm II was the last Kaiser.

The evidence is so very good as to be conclusive that Charlemagne not only did not wish to cooperate with being designated "Holy Roman Emperor," but that it annoyed him, and that he refused to accept the title, or the onus of any responsibility which it might entail. True to his Germanic tribal origins, Charlemagne, just as his father had done, divided his property among his heirs. The concept that all inheritance is partible (subject to division) is common to both Keltic and German tribes of pre-Christian Europe, and flies in the face of the concept of an established, enduring empire. Charlemagne's son, Louis the Pious, made his son Louis (said to be a favorite of Charlemagne, and raised in his court at Aachen) the "King" of Bavaria. In 843, he was made the "King" of East Francia--which is to say, the eastern Franks, by the terms of the treaty of Verdun. His brothers had fought civil wars against their father, and he had been disinherited, although no one succeeded in taking Bavaria from him. When his father died in 840, he fought his brothers (Louis the Pious had followed the old tradition, and divided his "empire" among his sons). He was the first Holy Roman Emperor in reality, and as he did not control Acquitaine or western Francia, France was never a part of the Holy Roman Empire, which was, in fact, the Holy Roman Empire of the German Nation.



Kaiser simply means Caesar, and hence, emperor. The first "Kaiser" (in the terms you are referring to) was the former King of Prussia, raised to an imperial dignity by Bismark. Wilhelm of Prussia did not want to be an emperor, and he said as much, publicly saying he was happy to be the King of Prussia, but didn't want to be Emperor. Bismark ignored that of course, and wrote the German Imperial constitution in a manner to put all the lines of power into his own (Bismark's) hands. That meant that with a strong and willful emperor such as Wilhelm II, the Chancellor, Bettmann-Holweg, was irrelevant. But it also meant that when the titular magistrate was weak, the Chancellor could exercise almost unlimited power--the most notorious example being Hitler appointed as Chancellor when Hindenburg was the senescent President of Germany. Once in the office of Chancellor, Hitler became almost unstoppable.

The title "Kaiser" in the sense that you mean ended with the deposition of Wilhelm II at the end of the Great War in 1918. That he abdicated is merely a detail, he would not have stayed in power if the Allies had been obliged to invade Germany. The term "Kaiser" was, however, also applied to the Holy Roman Emperors (just as "Tsar," another form of Caesar, was used by the Grand Dukes of Muscovy to give themselves an imperial air, in a city--Moscow--which the faithful of the Russian Orthodox Church called the third Rome). The Holy Roman Emperors were elected by German princes, usually on the basis of successful bribery. Eventually, the position was seen as almost hereditary in the line of the Habsburg Grand Dukes of Austria, although there were exceptions--the last notable exception was during the War of the Austrian Succession, when Maria Theresa could not be elected to the position, and the Electors chose Charles of Bavaria, instead of her husband, Francis of Lorraine, who did, however, succeed Charles of Bavaria. Why Charles and not Francis is an issue of the complex politics of the War of the Austrian Succession, into which i will not venture.

Napoleon beat up on the Austrians to the point that it became just plain embarrassing. The armies of the French Revolution handed the Austrians their collective ass before that, but after Napoleon took power, he marched into Austria, defeated them conclusively, and named his terms. He did it more than once and occupied Vienna. After 1806, the Emperor Francis II (grandson of the Francis mentioned above), ceased to refer to himself as Holy Roman Emperor, and simply designated himself Emperor of Austria (still a significant stretch of territory, including Hungary, most of what would one day be Yugoslavia, and a large part of northern Italy). Therefore, in terms of the Holy Roman Empire, Francis II was the last Kaiser. In terms of Germany, Wilhelm II was the last Kaiser.

Thanks, Set - missed that (and am now forced to reaf it therefore twice :wink: )

The end of the Holy Roman etc ends with the Reichsdeputationshauptschluß of 1803, very officially with the abdication of Francis II in 1806.

Yeah. I had saved a copy of the audio of that debate. It was a commentary on an election, and the debate eventually devolved into an ad hominem mudfest. Buckley eventually threatened to slug Vidal.

I thought I had it on my computer, but I may have saved a copy of it on a CD somewhere. I'll look for it and make it available to download if I find it.

The video was included on the biography of Vidal on PBS recently. Buckley is clinching his teeth and his fist when Vidal utters the famous "crypto-Nazi" line. Funny beyond belief.

Ah-huh.

Here's a link to a U of Pittsburg page that has audio, video and a summary of what went on between Vidal and Buckley at the '68 Conventions.

This is the best part of the exchange:

At the Aug. 22 debate in Chicago - the penultimate encounter in the series, with an estimated 10 million people watching - things began with relative calm. But it didn't stay that way, and before long the men began exchanging words that one simply didn't hear on TV at that time (see box below). Vidal called Buckley a "pro-crypto-Nazi," a modest slip of the tongue, he later said, because he was searching for the word "fascist" and it just didn't come out. Inflamed by the word "Nazi" and the whole tenor of the discussion, Buckley snapped: "Now listen, you queer," he said, "stop calling me a crypto-Nazi or I'll sock you in you goddamn face and you'll stay plastered." Smith attempted to calm the exchange with "gentlemen, let's not call names," but the damage had been done. The two men, considerably subdued, met the following night for the last of their week of debates.


Political Animals: Vidal, Buckley and the '68 Conventions