Jesus was Palestinian, because God is one with the oppressed
Never mind the fact that “Palestine” was a Roman name for the region of the Levant. When we claim Jesus as Palestinian, we do so because he dwelled and dwells with the oppressed.
Last week, Paula Fredriksen, a professor at Boston University, wrote a column suggesting it was not historically accurate to call Jesus a “Palestinian Jew”—a label that circulated online around Christmas of last year. Fredriksen refers to Jesus as a “Judean” (as do good translations of the Bible). She goes on to tell us that Rome, a century after Jesus, reverted to a term based on a Greek translation of “Philistine”, i.e. Palaistinē. So the Romans of the first century called it “Syria-Palestine,” and—according to Frederiksen—this was done in an attempt to “de-Judaize” the area, after a series of Jewish revolts.
The professor is absolutely correct in saying that it is anachronistic to call Jesus a Palestinian. But it is equally anachronistic to translate “Judean” (Iudaei) as “Jew.” The word “Jew” refers to something other than religious belief. Moreover, translating Iudaei as “Judean,” helps us remove some of the antisemitism that resulted from mistranslations in the New Testament.
But the issue that Fredriksen takes with calling Jesus “Palestinian” is not just about historical accuracy. She argues that it also contributes to the idea that Jewish people killed Jesus, and it conveniently ties into contemporary political rhetoric about Israel occupying Palestine. To be sure, insofar as it reifies that antisemitism, it is problematic to call Jesus Palestinian. The Judeans did not kill Jesus, Rome did. The occupying force did. Occupation is the problem that led to Jesus’ death, and it predictably led to Jewish revolts afterwards, as Fredriksen points out. Revolts follow unjust occupation–which is what might lead us to empathy for the Palestinians.
Fredriksen’s partisanship, which aligns with the state of Israel, shows itself when she argues that it would not be Israel but Hamas that would be oppressing Jesus if he were alive today. She cites evidence that Hamas, in particular, has been unwelcoming to Christians. This is neither a novel thought, nor an experience that Arab Christians in the Middle East are unfamiliar with. My family has experienced persecution for their faith in Egypt, for example, and I know full well that as a queer person, my sexual orientation would not be tolerated in many parts of the Middle East. It is not lost on me that such prejudices exist.
But to justify Israel’s oppression and occupation of Palestine by saying Jesus would have been treated worse by Hamas makes her argument hypocritical. If Palestinian activists and allies cannot claim Jesus as Palestinian in order to guard against antisemitism, it is unfair of Frederiksen to base an argument on Jesus’ acceptance in Gaza based on Islamophobic stereotypes. I’ve heard my whole life that oppressed Arabs are not worth defending because many of them wouldn’t tolerate my faith or my sexuality. I can empathize with people who don’t empathize with me. To suggest that I should turn my back on them for that reason only creates divisions among allies working for a common cause. Do I wish the Middle East were more tolerant? Of course. Does that stop me from advocating for them when they are being occupied and oppressed? Absolutely not. And it wouldn’t stop Jesus from allying with them either.
I think we can say that calling Jesus Palestinian is historically inaccurate. But so is calling him a Jew or a Christian. For that matter, so is saying he is brown, given that race was not a social construct in the first-century. When allies refer to him as Palestinian, they are using a contemporary understanding of nationality and ethnicity. To tell them they are not technically correct strikes me as not a particularly powerful or meaningful argument. Frederiksen moves beyond technicality when it becomes clear she’s just taking a cheap shot at allies of Palestine, whom she thinks are unfairly attacking Israel.
We use anachronisms all the time when we characterize people of the past. In this context, I find it to be rhetorically useful. James Cone famously called God “Black.” Of course, the Black liberation theologian knew quite well that God did not have a race, but in saying that, Cone was saying he believed God to be aligned with the Black community and with oppressed people. It serves the same purpose to say that Jesus was Palestinian—it is not a technical statement, but a useful rhetorical one. If it furthers antisemitism, it should be spoken more precisely, but when it doesn’t, when it serves to showcase God’s alliance with the oppressed, then advocates against oppression should laud it. And when they don’t, I hope they won’t claim it is because of historical accuracy, but rather, because of their partisan support of Israel’s occupation.
Frederiksen should have been honest about how her analysis confirms her prior beliefs, as good scholars should. For my part, I’m proud to use that anachronism, which has nothing to do with antisemitism, and everything to do with my belief that Jesus is on the side of the Palestinians.