Congressman Newt Gingrich did not notably weaken the Democratic ticket, it would seem, by his suggestion that the Democrats are to blame for l’affaire Woody Allen. But he and his colleagues Pat Robertson, Pat Buchanan and Phil Gramm might be able to make something more out of the charge that the Democrats are responsible for Gore Vidal. Woody Allen is guilty only of what might be called quasi-incest and quasi-infidelity in a quasi-marriage. Vidal can fairly be charged with blasphemy.

If Christianity had not progressed at least somewhat from the Middle Ages, Live from Golgotha would have caused Vidal to have his eyes plucked out and be sentenced to the galleys for the rest of his life. If Christians viewed blasphemy the way orthodox Moslems do, some Christian version of the Ayatollah might have put out a contract on Vidal. Fortunately for all concerned, even the most conservative members of the Christian coalition are not into that kind of retaliation.

Blasphemy, real blasphemy, in which the sacred is obscenely ridiculed, is pretty hard to come by. Indeed you almost have to be a believer to carry it off. By that standard, Vidal might be judged to be a man of very strong faith indeed.

Is Live from Golgotha really and truly blasphemous? Well, its narrator is Timothy, disciple and homosexual lover of Saint Paul (“Saint” for short), who is also a dancer, a juggler, a mountebank and a sometime secret agent of the Mossad. Jesus is originally presented as a fat and foolish fellow with glandular problems. Later it develops that this man is really Judas. The real Jesus is a cruel and crazy fanatical Zionist who changes place with Judas and emerges in the 20th century to plot the extinction of the species in a nuclear war in 2001. He can do this because television networks have been able to project back in time and forward to the present. Timothy is projected back in time to the scene of the Crucifixion to be anchorman for the NBC report. Warned by the spirit of “Saint,” he must strive to prevent the switch between Judas and Jesus so that the real Jesus (aka Marvin Wasserstein) dies and the world will be saved from destruction 2000 years later.

Got it?

If such a story is not blasphemous, then nothing is. There may also be another sin in charging $22 for a novel substantially less than 80,000 words in length, even one by Gore Vidal.

It may well be said that Vidal’s jeu d’esprit with blasphemy is witty, ingenious and frothy, with emphasis on the last adjective. As far as blasphemy goes, Live from Golgotha is very clever indeed—if blasphemy is to your taste. It may also be argued that Vidal’s usual audience is composed largely of readers who rather relish the perversity of his stories and do not have enough religious convictions to be offended by blasphemy, if indeed they could recognize it as such. Rather, they will titter at the titillation that Live from Golgotha’s impish irreverence serves up.

Finally, it might be contended that Vidal’s blasphemy is not likely to cause much injury to God, who, on the record, is quite capable of taking care of Herself when push comes to shove. Surely most of those who still regard blasphemy seriously have never read one of Gore Vidal’s books and are not likely to read this one. It might even be asserted that a book reviewer kind of violates the separation of Church and State when he suggests in a journal as sophisticated and as liberal as this one that a book is deliberately intended to be blasphemous. Yet, following the Law of a Duck, if it walks like blasphemy and talks like blasphemy and looks like blasphemy, then surely it is blasphemy, deliberately designed to be such and indeed as offensively blasphemous as possible. One misses the whole point of the story—and fails in simple honesty—unless one states explicitly that this is what Vidal is about.

Heaven forfend that I should seem to deny Gore Vidal the right to be blasphemous if he so desires. He can work out the morality of his actions with Herself in the appropriate time and circumstances. On the basis of the same record hither-to cited, I am forbidden to judge lest I be judged.

Moreover, I’m not suggesting that committed Christians launch a boycott of Live from Golgotha. That would make Random House’s day. My point, rather, is that if you enjoy a romp of cheerful blasphemy, this is the book for you. If you don’t find that sort of thing to be exactly your cup of tea, then you can easily miss Live from Golgotha—unless you have some excellent reason to want to induce an attack of nausea.