"Working Out His Salvation with Fear and Trembling in Mexico": An Interview with C. Theodore Murr, author of The Society of Judas: A Novel | Ignatius Insight | January 6, 2009
In his August 2009 First Things review of C. Theodore Murr's The Society of Judas (2008), Robert T. Miller summed up the novel in this way:
On the whole, The Society of Judas is difficult to categorize. As the story of a good
but flawed man in the priesthood working out his salvation with fear and
trembling in Mexico, the book is reminiscent of The Power and the Glory. In its assemblage of utterly bizarre characters and
insane plot twists, it is reminiscent of The Confederacy of Dunces. It is also a score-settling, tell-all exposé of
human iniquity that is clearly meant to name names. Above all, however, it is
the story of one man's life, told in the form of a novel but lacking the
artificial unity a fictional account can achieve, and so it partakes of the
strangeness and inscrutability that every human life displays.The Society of Judas is indeed difficult to categorize. It is sometimes raw and shocking, but is written with an obvious elegance. It is often disturbing, often edifying, and always readable. Ignatius Insight recently interviewed the author about the novel.
Ignatius Insight: To what degree is The Society of Judas autobiographical? What are some ways in which you drew upon your own experiences in Mexico?
C. Theodore Murr: Though I do not readily admit it, in fact, The Society Of Judas is autobiographical. From the novel's inception--as was the case in real life, I might add--the dilemma was my priesthood. That is to say, I tried my heroic best to remain silent about any number of things (I figured) that were no one else's business. (Besides the Silent Lamb Himself, I held Thomas More near and dear, remembering that only at his trial, pushed beyond the limits, did he finally speak his mind and defend himself properly.) For years after what is described in the novel, I remained silent about what actually happened.Only when my now-adult children (from the orphanage) began asking me what really occurred, and why I left them to be orphaned a second time, did I decide they had a right to know. I began to see that my silence was being taken as tacit guilt.
Now, how do you say something without saying it? Brilliantly, Christ said it in parables; rather poorly, I tried saying it in fiction. Was it Moliere who said the difference between truth and fiction is that, unlike truth, fiction must make sense?
Read the entire interview...
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