In the early twentieth century, churchmen such as Warren Conant sought to virilize Jesus in the hopes of bringing men back to the church. Later in the twentieth century, some feminist theologians sought to uncover a feminine agenda in Jesus' ministry to support modern women's issues. Colleen Conway's book Behold the Man shows that gender has been a central concern in representations of Jesus from the beginning.

Conway begins by reviewing ancient constructions of masculinity and illustrating these constructions with “case studies” of Caesar Augustus, Philo's Moses, and Philostratus's Apollonius. Even for scholars familiar with this material, a close reading of these chapters is beneficial because Conway reminds her readers that there were multiple—and sometimes competing—models of masculinity in antiquity and that “marginalized gender discourses” (as opposed to the “hegemonic masculinity” of the imperial project) could be used to resist imperial power without rejecting gender ideology altogether.

Among the undisputed Pauline epistles, Conway focuses particularly on the Corinthian correspondence and Galatians. She argues that since Paul mentions the crucifixion most frequently when his masculinity is being questioned, references to the crucifixion bolster Paul's masculine status. Overall, Conway sees Paul's Christology as akin to imperial apotheosis traditions and, therefore, she does not read the Pauline traditions as countercultural or as subverting hegemonic masculine ideology.

Conway begins her analysis of each Gospel by investigating how the titles applied to Jesus masculinize him. In Mark, the titles show Jesus' divine status and ruling authority. Jesus' miracles are to be understood as challenges to Roman imperial power. The healing of the Gerasene demoniac, for example, is described as a “thinly veiled ‘exorcism’ of Roman military occupation” (94). Mark's relationship with hegemonic masculinity is ambiguous, however, as the passion narrative makes clear: at his death, Jesus is filled with fear and anguish. Conway suggests that the noble death tradition might alleviate some of this tension. She surmises that the ambiguous portrayal of Jesus' masculinity may be attributable to the recent display of Roman power in Jerusalem.

Matthew focuses on Jesus as a skilled teacher, which was a masculine quality. Conway argues that Jesus' teachings are not countercultural because they espouse traditional virtues (for example, self-control and leniency). Jesus' teachings on family and asceticism, while in tension with hegemonic masculinity, are similar to the masculine ideology of the moral philosophers. Here, then, Conway illustrates the importance of acknowledging varieties of masculinizing discourses.

Luke's masculinizing tendencies are seen in his focus on education, government, and cult. The emphasis on education assures “the reader of the characters' training in masculinity” (129). The titles applied to Jesus (especially “savior”), along with the ascension narratives, link Jesus to the divinized emperor. The focus on the Temple connects Jesus to cultic worship (just as the emperor was depicted as a pious priest). Perhaps more than any of the other texts explored, Luke-Acts, according to Conway, presents Jesus in the garb of the emperor, the preeminent earthly example of virtue.

John's Jesus is carefully masculinized by comparison; Jesus is superior to, and therefore manlier than, those around him. Conway argues, for instance, that the resurrection account in John is qualitatively different from the apotheosis traditions of Paul and the Synoptics (and of other divine men) because Jesus is returning whence he came rather than being rewarded for heroic or virtuous behavior. The hypermasculinity of John's Jesus is unsurprising: if God occupies the perfect end of the gender gradient, then a high Christology necessitates a superior masculinity.

Conway employs postcolonial theory most directly in her analysis of Revelation, utilizing especially the notion of mimicry. Conway shows how John's paradoxical representations of Jesus—as imperial judge and vengeful warrior—may expose “the gap between Roman masculine ideology and imperial practice” (174). The divine vengeance central to Revelation, in other words, is not in line with hegemonic masculinity, but it may have associations with imperial action.

Not all scholars will agree with Conway's specific conclusions. She argues, for instance, that readers could overlook feminizing elements in Mark's passion account by reading it as a noble death. Alternatively, she suggests that Jesus must be feminized in relation to God, who represents perfect masculinity. Neither of these elements, however, is found in the quintessential noble deaths of Socrates, Cato, or Seneca. The noble death tradition, as typically understood, highlights one's nobility, self-control, and courage in the face of death. The noble death, therefore, may not have been as obvious an option for ancient readers as Conway suggests, and thus we must still account for the ambiguously gendered messiah in Mark. Since it is Luke's redaction of Mark, furthermore, that depicts Jesus' as a noble death, we may surmise that at least one early reader (that is, Luke) did not see Mark as successfully employing that tradition. Conway also argues that Luke “finds ways to depict all the leading figures as literate men” (129). While she notes that Luke explicitly labels Peter and John as uneducated in Acts 4:13, this statement is too quickly dropped in favor of an emphasis on the quality of the apostles' speeches. If the education system transmitted hegemonic masculinity, and if Luke emphasized literacy as a way to demonstrate masculinity, we surely must contend with the illiteracy of these two major characters.

Conway's study is important because it reveals the complex strategies of masculinization employed by New Testament authors. These alternative models of masculinity have been read as Christian counterculturalism, an interpretation Conway rightly rejects. Equally important, Conway shows that the gendered representations of Jesus are significant not only for Christology; they also help portray individual Christians—for example, Paul—and Christians in general as “manly” (that is, virtuous). Conway's discussion of how masculinity was transmitted from culture to individual is an especially welcome addition to scholarship. Behold the Man should be read by advanced undergraduate students (occasionally Greek and Latin terms are untranslated), graduate students, and professionals interested in the use of gendered rhetoric in early Christianity, as well as by those interested in constructions of masculinity in antiquity.