Jack writes:
Thanks! Deconstructing the New Testament in this way is such an incredible relief for my soul, I can let go of so much unnecessary and outmoded moral and intellectual baggage.Luca writes:
I am
reading your book and really appreciate it. If your views are correct,
then your work marks a most important turnpoint in human culture; in
any case, your ideas are so stimulating and refreshing that I think
they will remain with us.
Roland writes:
I have
read both "The Jesus Puzzle" and "Challenging the Verdict" and I must
say that you have really opened my eyes to the truth. I think both are
brilliant.(I am a former fundamentalist, now proud agnostic.)
Mike writes:
The Jesus Puzzle arrived today in excellent condition. I dove into it right away, and it is as well written and as persuasively argued as the materials on your website. I sincerely appreciate all the effort and scholarship you've poured into your work.
Jay writes:
Your analysis of the Hebrews epistle is awesome. You are exactly right that the author has never heard of Jesus of Nazareth and hasn't the slightest idea about any earthly Jesus. More than being right, you demonstrate it quite convincingly.
Kevin writes:
Thank you for your contribution to my understanding of Christian origins. I have been most impressed by your JESUS PUZZLE web site and book of the same name. I followed up the reading of your book with Robert Price's "Deconstructing Jesus" and have since made something of a pest of myself among acquaintances with interests in biblical studies by trying to get them to take what you are saying seriously.
Mahima writes:
To make money for a short life, you are trading money for hell. You still have a chance. May this e-mail be a chance from God to bring you closer to him. Repent!
Ian writes:
Found your most interesting site today, though I've been thinking and reading over many years about the issues. As one might expect, the 'debate' from many people cannot really be dignified by that name: it's usually abuse of the "you'll go to hell" type. Sad, but perhaps indicative of certain educational lapses. What I find difficult is to keep cool and kind when attempting to argue with intelligent, reasonable people who just happen to have bought the whole Christian mythology.
Vincent writes:
I
admire your courage. You may not be recognized as you deserve during
your life, but when christianity will be vanished from the earth,
people will see you as an exceptional lucid revolutionary spirit.
As you may know, Mel Gibson is making a new movie on
Jesus' passion. When are we going to have a movie based on your book?
Can you imagine a movie on 'Jesus' without any casting for Jesus, Mary,
the 12 disciples, without any crucifixion, angels, demons nor special
effects for the miracles?
Thanks Mr. Doherty, I owe you a lot.
Bruce writes:
I have
read close to 100 books on the subject of Christianity, including Mack,
Crossan, Price, Wilson, and on and on. Your stuff is just great. Very
easy to understand for the common person who has never read anything
about the subject. This is the major problem with Crossan and the rest,
in terms of enlightening those unfamiliar with biblical criticism.
What I greatly appreciate about your work is that you
provide a very healthy mix of ordinary language and focus on very
common sense (as opposed to academic) problems that the average Joe can
understand without having taken theology classes.
I forget which critique it was on your web page that
started with the claim that you are not a Biblical scholar. There is a
logical fallacy called "appeal to authority" which apparently this guy
is unaware of. But if reading hundreds if not thousands of books and
articles on the subject, doing your own Greek translations, not to
mention the power of your arguments, don't count, I am curious as to
what does make a Biblical scholar. Last I checked, Biblical scholars
become such by reading books, learning Greek and history, and studying
various people's work of Biblical criticism.
I guess one isn't allowed to raise obvious objections to
Christian views unless one is a theologian, almost all of which are
Christian to start with (which is why they become theologians in the
first place). And while we are on the subject, what intellectual
qualification is required of Christians to believe, as opposed to not
believe, in Christianity? That they have a pulse? Apparently, anyone
can say "Jesus did this and Jesus said that" with no factual or
critical basis other than sitting in a church pew every once in a
while. Of course, to these
pronouncements of "truth" there would be
no objection at all from those who criticize your work.
Still time for the Spring Semester, Earl. Maybe someday
you'll make the grade.
Sid writes:
Please
let me add my accolades to you and your website. You and Dan Barker are
my Gurus. I am a member of FFRF [Freedom
From Religion Foundation, based in Madison, Wisconsin] and you
are a wonderful addition to free thinkers.
In my opinion all babies are born atheists. They do not
know whether there is one God, many Gods, or no God. Whether they are
born Catholic, Protestant, Jew, Muslim, etc. From two years of age
until approximately eight years, this identification and indoctrination
process is instituted for the child in accordance with the particular
religion that its parent or surrogate is perpetuating. The earlier and
more intense this process, with the accompanying rituals, icons and
songs, this person's religion becomes set in concrete.
There are exceptions. A few people do reason through this
process and eventually think for themselves and overcome their
indoctrination, but this is very rare. That is why there are so few
atheists and why it is so difficult to change anybody's beliefs or way
of thinking.
[E.D.: Perhaps not so
rare and so few as we move into the 21st century. Thinking for oneself
is becoming more fashionable, and the unbelieving constituency is
steadily growing. It just needs to assert itself and acquire a greater
voice, a challenging task in a North American society still drenched in
irrational faith.]
Dennis writes:
I have
just finished reading "The Jesus Puzzle" and many of the other links on
your site. So many questions I have had for so long have finally been
answered. I have always had difficulty with the "facts" of Jesus'
virgin birth, miracles, death and resurrection, son of God. Finally,
you have presented a reasoned perspective which is not only
understandable, but also sensitive in its approach for some like
myself, wanting to understand, but having great difficulty in
reconciling what science tells us vs. the evangelists.
I cannot adequately convey the feeling of a weight being
lifted off my shoulders. To now know that I am not responsible to nor
owe a debt to an individual who had to die for me because of my own
human qualities is quite a relief, but beyond that, now seeing how the
Jesus story fits into the ever-evolving need for man to understand
things he cannot "see", and how that story could have evolved out of
history, well, it just answers so many questions. If I only could have
stumbled across your book many years ago: that is my only regret.
I just want to reiterate my thanks for the depth of
scholarship and your non-caustic treatment of the subject. I dare say I
have not heard from anyone who is so thoroughly acquainted with the
bible as you are. It is so refreshing in light of having seen so many
websites that take a cynical and accusatory approach to the subject.
Tim writes:
Your
work is the culmination of my search. I must say that your analysis is
so good that I think you may be right. The concepts that Paul speaks
about, the lack of historical evidence in the epistles and early
writings does lend a lot to your case. My own experience in dealing
with mystical concepts leads me to believe that your conclusions are
correct.
Since the release of your book, I am wondering how many
scholars have become "believers" in your point of view. Have there been
a number of others that have been willing to concede your points and
submit to this new theory? [E.D. Only
a handful who were already inclined in that direction, although there
may be others I am unaware of. Most will simply
not allow themselves to give any serious thought to the mythicist
position, as recently demonstrated by a well-known mainstream scholar's
reaction to the first of my website articles. I may fashion an article
for the site in
the near future which will consider a range of negative response to my
views, from Amazon reviewers to the aforementioned member of the Jesus
Seminar.]
Robert writes:
Did it
occur to
you that 99% of biblical scholars (christian and non-christian) believe
that Jesus did exist? As a well-read christian I find these Jesus myth
arguments self-serving, often deceptive, and ironically requiring a lot
of faith. In fact, i might even describe it as a form of
fundamentalism. No amount of evidence or reason could be convincing
enough for one with such strong convictions. You interpret all evidence
and aligned it with your preconception of the "Jesus myth" rather than
viewing it with some degree of objectivity. [E.D.: Hmmm...isn't this a little like the
pot calling the kettle black?]
I'm sure you automatically dismissed the recent finding of
the James
ossuary because otherwise it would surely make you question your faith.
While the finding is certainly inconclusive, an objective person would
at least consider it.
Jennifer writes:
I was
very happy to find this site a few weeks ago and have ordered your book
about Strobel's book.
Thank you for taking the time to write and publish your
thoughts. I wish books like yours were marketed more agressively. Xians
push their religion relentlessly and I wish atheists and non-believers
in general would do the same. The problem I have found is that when a
xian finds you are not only an infidel, but an infidel who has solid,
thoughtful, logical reasons for rejecting their religion, they turn on
you like a pack of wolves and will tear you to pieces. May I tell you
what I mentioned to a xian woman a few weeks ago when she said that she
was afraid of the "damage" playing with non-xians might do to her
children?
"The older I get, the more I judge religions, philosophies
and political theories not on what they teach or believe, per se, but
how they treat those who disagree with them. I do not agree with the
teachings of the buddha, but it is a peaceful religion that has a
history of toleration and acceptance of varied points of view.
Therefore, I admire and respect it. Islam and xianity, however, have
historically shown themselves to be religions of hatred, murder,
oppression, tyranny and great evil. They treat heretics and infidels
with violence and rage. So I would be more afraid of what your xian
children may do to the unbelieving playmates they have, than what the
infidels might do to your kids."
Needless to say she was not pleased, but it is the truth.
I recently read your book, and found it very informative. I read Strobel's "The Case for Christ" just as I was having serious doubts about Christianity, and I found it lacking even back then. You focus a great deal on how soon/late the Gospels appeared after Jesus' supposed death. Even if the religious scholars could prove that writings were around 20 years afterwards (which I agree they can't), that means almost nothing. Elizabeth Loftus has done a great deal of work on the fallibility of memory. I would say 20 days after something happens, I wouldn't trust eyewitness testimony, as she has proved it is usually flawed. The book "Legends, Myths, and Cherished Lies of American History" documents common myths, even in this age of information and communication, that we believe about people as recent as JFK and Ronald Reagan. Such evidence gives me little hope that illiterate, uneducated people 2000 years ago would have been tenacious about sticking to the truth. We don't even do it today.
I am currently reading "Challenging the Verdict." In Chapter 12, you overlooked an argument against the "Jews bribing the Roman guards" story in Matthew [Mt. 28:11-15]. The Roman guards would have been executed if they had claimed that they went to sleep on the job and let somebody steal the body of Jesus. It is difficult to think that the Jews could have come up with a bribe large enough to get the Roman soldiers to tell such a story to their superiors. [E.D.: Excellent point. Strange how obvious considerations can be missed and yet be so obvious when someone points them out.]
You
have done an impressive job in explaining the apparent lack of interest
on the part of Paul and the other epistle writers in the details of
Jesus' career and teachings. He never existed, and was invented later.
But I wonder whether you haven't created a new mystery:
how did it come about that two such disparate religious movements as
the "Jerusalem" movement and the "Galilean" movement could be
syncretized in the late first century by Mark, and that this
syncretization so rapidly dominated the two original movements? As you
describe them, the two movements don't seem like obvious merger
partners. What made this syncretization so compelling at the time to
the two groups that within a hundred years the syncretized faith
dominated the two original faiths?
By the traditional account, of course, the two movements
weren't so unrelated: they were different "responses" to the teaching
and death of a single historical figure. Even though the two groups
initially headed in strikingly different directions, one might suppose
under the traditional view that they would share some common traditions
and concerns. But if an historical Jesus is removed from the picture,
are we not left with a new question as to how a Marcan midrashic
fiction or scripture-based reconstruction of an earthly Christ's life
and death so rapidly and successfully effected a merger of two
initially unrelated and rather different movements?
Response to Brian:
The Crux of the Case: Syncretizing the
'Jeruselem'
and 'Galilean' Components of Christianity
Many of the doubts expressed about the mythicist
case, and The Jesus Puzzle's particular rendering of it, revolve around
questions similar to that expressed by Brian. How
and why did this seemingly peculiar syncretization come about, and why
was it so successful? Related questions often accompany these queries,
such as why the Messiah would be regarded as coming from an unlikely
place like Galilee, or why a Jewish movement would adopt a Cynic-based
philosophy of ethics. In this response, I will try to
address this range of concern.
Such objections often betray some
dubious assumptions, and let's start by addressing Brian's. First
of all, I would say that Brian is mischaracterizing the length of time
it
took for the amalgamation of the two movements by calling it something
"rapid". If
Mark composed his Gospel a decade or so before the end of the first
century (as I suggest), and apologists like Theophilus and Athenagoras
are still
describing their faith, almost a hundred years later, as basically a
Logos/Son of God
religion, with no mention of a human founder and his career, this is
hardly rapid. Also, the disputes we can detect in the Christian record
itself
(as in 1 John and the letters of Ignatius) show that
such a syncretization was, in fact, not
"so compelling" to many groups within the broader Christ movement, and
triumphed only over time with some difficulty.
I would also say that it is inaccurate to speak of a
syncretization of movements. Rather, it was a syncretization of ideas.
The Q-based movement seems to have died out by the mid-second century,
perhaps earlier, never having been more than a local one
centered in Galilee and parts of Syria (as witnessed by Q and the
Gospels—all of which are now regarded by many as coming from
this same area—and the Didache). It was not a case of the Galilean
movement as a whole joining
with the cultic Christ movement. It never came to be "dominated" by the
syncretized product. Only
in regard to the communities which produced the synoptic Gospels can we
see a process of two bodies of ideas coming together, and even this
needs qualification.
Rather, the dramatic syncretization, and the one
which
produced Christianity as we know it, was the gradual adoption by the
spiritual
Christ savior movement of the idea that their Jesus had
actually been to earth (not just the celestial sphere related to "the
flesh"), and that the Gospels, which were encountered through the
course of the second century,
constituted a
historical reflection of his life and teachings in the time of
Herod and Pontius Pilate. We see this dawning and blossoming belief in
the letters of Ignatius, in the epistle of Barnabas, in
Justin Martyr and eventually all the major writers of the late second
century
and beyond. (See my Supplementary Article No.
12 for a tracing of this
process through the Apostolic Fathers.)
To some extent, Brian is right, in that the two
components of Christianity do not seem like "obvious merger partners."
But in the view I've just expressed, the initial 'merger' was a limited
one. I have postulated that Mark's community took a rather
unusual step, in joining its Q-type background of preaching the coming
Kingdom
of God, with the concept of a savior divinity. But it is also difficult
to be
sure how much syncretization existed within the community itself, and
how much was a product of Mark's own mind and literary innovation. I
have also suggested in my book (see page 239) that Mark's dying and
rising Messiah/Son of Man figure may owe as much to its allegorical
meaning as representative of Mark's own community of believers, as it
owes to the
savior-god faith of Paul, especially as Mark's Gospel scarcely makes
its
Jesus divine or gives him a well-defined salvific role—nothing like on
the scale of the Pauline Christ. Thus we cannot be sure how much even
Mark himself syncretized the two movements.
Once that first Gospel came into existence,
and once it was enlarged upon by later evangelists who combined it with
their Q document and fed more of their own scriptural
focus into the story of Jesus—perhaps regarding Mark's plot and
protagonist as having some foundation in actual history—it became a
latent
and potent force. Over the course of a few generations, the Gospels
came to the
attention of various communities of the Son/Christ savior movement and
were
eventually adopted by them. Those Gospels were attractive for their
body of teaching and tradition and their powerful founder figure, who
already seemed linked to the cultic Jesus. By
this time, the Q-movement itself had died or was dying out,
as the non-historical expressions of Christ belief were soon to do as
well. While the merger of the two movements may appear to be
something
unlikely when viewed in the latter decades
of the first century, such a process over time can be seen to be
feasible and even logical, especially as we can trace that very process
through the various elements of the Christian record.
Brian's 'alternative' suggestion, that the
two movements were different "responses" to the teaching and death of a
single historical figure, is far more unlikely and understandable than
the syncretization scenario. Apart from a few general elements that
were shared
by virtually all the non-mainstream Jewish and Hellenistic-Jewish sects
of the time (such as a focus on social reforms, the rejection of the
Temple
cult, and the expectation of an upheaval brought about by the arrival
of a heavenly figure), the quality of 'divergence' between the two
movements is so striking as to render it difficult to regard them as
different responses to a single man and his career, especially to the
one portrayed in the Gospels. As I've demonstrated elsewhere,
fundamental elements are missing on both sides. Q shows no death and
resurrection, or even a Pauline-type soteriological role, for its
founder Jesus; nor is he ever referred to as the Messiah. The Pauline
Christ shows none of the features of Q's Jesus figure: no teachings, no
miracle working, no Son of Man, no apocalyptic prophesying, no
appointment of apostles by Jesus, no role for a recent human Messiah in
the run-up to the Parousia, and so on, not to mention a simple
identification with the Gospel
character. That
two 'responses' to the same man could diverge so thoroughly—right from
the outset—is
virtually impossible to comprehend and can simply be dismissed,
especially as the 'divergence' theory is based on perceived
necessity rather than evidence. Our need is to
understand not how they diverged, but how they came together, and a
theory of syncretization beginning with Mark's Gospel best fits that
bill. (At most, we are left only with the possibly more feasible idea
that there was a human antecedent to the Q movement, with
none at all
to the Pauline Christ faith, though even here, as I have regularly
argued, the evidence is against such a concrete, single-figure,
founding Jesus for the Galilean movement.)
When such a syncretization is more carefully
examined, certain oft-raised objections can be dealt with
rather easily. A common one is that a Messiah who comes from Galilee
would have been an unlikely scenario in Jewish circles, and thus would
hardly have been accepted—let alone
invented—in those circles. Well, first of all, there is no Messiah in
Q. We have an expected Son of Man, which is not the same thing. Such a
figure was no doubt ultimately based on a reading out of Daniel 7,
with its "son of man" evolving into a heavenly figure who would arrive
at the End-time, as in Revelation. This is evidenced even in
non-Christian documents like
4
Ezra and 1 Enoch. In the latter, and in Mark, he was syncretized with
the
Messiah and given a semi-divine cast. Christianity's Messiah
ended up in Galilee by default, courtesy of Mark. He was an enlargement
on the
figure in the later stages of Q, one who was based in the apocalyptic
preaching movement of
that
area. Second, it is difficult to define the Markan syncretization
milieu as a strictly "Jewish" one. Scholars such as J. D. Crossan
regularly
argue for a strong Hellenistic atmosphere in Galilee, and it may
be—judging by things such as Greek being the language of the entire
New Testament—that Mark's community was more gentile with Jewish
leanings than mainstream Jewish. That would help explain why a
Cynic-based philosophy of ethics and itinerant missionary practice
could be wedded to the Jewish apocalyptic tradition at the root of the
Q movement.
Brian also included the suggestion that we have "an unexplained coincidence" in that the two movements happened both to have their origins in mid-first century (or at least a documentary record beginning at that time)" and that "the historical Jesus could be plopped into the first part of the century as the initiator of both movements." But again, this is less a coincidence than a natural congruity created by the process of syncretization. As parts of the Kingdom of God movement developed the idea of a founding teacher / miracle-worker / apocalyptic prophet at the genesis of their preaching (a personification of their own activities and beliefs), such a figure was naturally placed at those beginnings, which seem to have arisen around the 20s of the first century. There was also a link made in the Q mind with John the Baptist as a forerunner, and he can be historically located during that period.
Paul's Christ, on the other hand, can be identified
with no historical
time and place, since Paul and his fellow epistle-writers of the first
century never make such an identification, not even when they speak in
those occasional human-sounding terms such as "born of woman", "of the
seed of David" or when using the phrase "kata sarka" (terms which can be
given other interpretations not related to an historical, human
individual). When the Pauline Christ became syncretized with the Q
Jesus, it would have been natural, indeed inevitable, to associate his
human life on earth with the period of Q's perceived founder, as well
as with the
period of the earliest remembered apostles whom Paul knew, namely Peter
and James, who seem to have first operated in the 20s or 30s of the
century. Since Paul never refers to such apostles as having known a
human Jesus, nor deals with the advantage such an association would
have
given them, nor seems to have been aware of any teachings,
activities or events of such a life of Jesus, there is no 'coincidence'
of
placement between the two movements. Ignatius' declaration, coming
early in the second century, that his Jesus had been crucified
by Pilate, was a faith declaration, the product of that new
syncretized belief, whose time frame was largely governed by the
Galilean side of the 'merger'.
Why did certain pockets of the Christ cult
across the eastern empire around the turn of the second century adopt
the conviction of a human life for their Jesus in recent history,
whether under the direct influence of the Gospels or not? It is
difficult to say whether the Johannine community of the period of 1
John (probably a little earlier) did so, since we don't know the exact
meaning of the dispute that "Jesus Christ has come in the flesh"
(4:1-4). But there has always been a widespread tendency among
societies, especially cultic oriented ones, to read present practice
and belief into the past and to postulate a great formulator for them.
(Originally, it was the gods themselves.) Such a tendency could well
have been in the air among Christian communities even before the
Gospels started to make their influence felt. The same tendency would
have fed into the creation of the Q Jesus, as seen in the latter stages
of that document's evolution.
The evolution of a Jesus mythology related to
"flesh" was no doubt influenced by the rich mythology of the savior-god
cults within Hellenistic society. But we can't overlook the more
nitty-gritty impulses for such innovation. These things operate more at
the personal level, and could perhaps be more responsible for the
evolution
of ideas than larger-scale factors. Paul tramped the empire pushing
his interpretation of a Jesus from scripture and revelation because
of personal drives and motives, or so his letters suggest. Did
Christians half a century later push the idea of a Christ come in the
flesh, in history, because of personal needs? The answer seems evident
from the pivotal figure of Ignatius. The bishop of Antioch's
convictions of the humanity of Christ were not those of theological
deduction, or even the product of tradition (which he never appeals
to), but arose out of his belief that only through a Christ who had
gone through human suffering in an historical context could human
salvation be accomplished. If Christ's sufferings were not physical and
historical, then his own were "in vain". Those individuals and groups
who had come to see things this way (and not everyone did, as witness
the gnostics) impelled the movement toward the historicization of the
spiritual Christ and the adoption of the Gospel story as fact. This new
brand of the faith proved to have the greatest potential, both
personally and politically, and thus the syncretization process which
produced orthodox Christianity was guaranteed success and longevity.
I must confess that I ordered The Jesus Puzzle with full
intentions of writing a scathing review, and lambasting your position.
To that end I was surprised--even shocked--to discover that my review
will likely be positive, by and large. The position you advocate is at
the very least as reasonable, and often more reasonable, than more
traditional interpretations. However, I find myself left with several
questions--or perhaps more accurately caveats--regarding your work.
Why, if Mark does not understand his gospel historically,
does he create apologetics that clearly refer to "earthly" events and
understandings? Why, for example, did Mk. 15:47 develop without the
unstated polemic that they did not know where the body was lain? This
is certainly not to imply that this was an historical event, but rather
that Mark wished to convey that it was, and plausibly took it for one
himself. Further, why does he place it in such a firm historical
context, with such firm historical characters, if it is all to be
understood as myth and allegory? It seems a bit of a stretch to
conclude that Mark did not view at least parts of his gospel as
literally true... [more below]
Response to Rick:
Mark's "historical" Nature / Markan
Contradictions? / Criterion of Dissimilarity
I think Rick is adopting some unfounded assumptions
here, or rather he may be governed by too standard a mindset. There is
nothing to prevent allegory from being set within an "earthly" context,
especially when the allegory is largely meant to represent the earthly
experiences and beliefs of a sectarian group. The passion part of
Mark's Gospel may be less such a representation than the Galilean
ministry portion, but once the setting was established, as it is in the
first ten chapters, it would have been difficult and jarring to somehow
render the passion in more mythical terms. Besides, as I have said
previously, I suspect that the Markan story of Jesus' passion is also
meant to symbolize the fate of the believers as much as it does the
spiritual activities of the redeeming Christ.
Rick also tends to judge aspects of the Markan story
by old paradigms: that Gospel features were often determined by the
writer's need to deal with situations or polemics within the
Christian community, or with competing traditions and claims. Whereas,
it is often the case that we ought to look at things more simply and to
see the story as taking
shape to serve the purposes of telling the story. Verse 15:47 ("And
Mary of Magdala and Mary the mother of Joseph were watching and saw
where he was laid") does not need to serve anything more than to
explain the women's actions in the
next chapter, when they go to the tomb where Jesus was buried. If they
hadn't seen the burial, how could they have known where to go? A little
feature in the following chapter (16:3) shows something similar. Mark
feels constrained to insert that the women "were wondering among
themselves who would roll away the stone for them from the entrance to
the tomb," not because there was a tradition that they had so wondered,
but because it would have been natural for the writer—and reader—to
think of that, since the women were going in order to anoint the body
with no
expectation that the stone would not be still in place. The detail is
the
product of the storyteller, necessitated by the story itself, and
nothing else.
As Rick suggests, Mark did view parts of his Gospel as
literally true, in the sense that they represented literal activities
and teachings of the community itself. It was not all "myth and
allegory." As for setting Jesus' death and resurrection within "a firm
historical context," not only would this have been necessitated by the
overall setting of the Gospel, it would make certain elements Mark
wanted to convey more vivid, such as the responsibility of the Jewish
authorities and the role played by the Romans, factors very much
current in the Markan community's world. Besides, it made for a much
more powerful story....
...Why do so
many things in the gospels fly flagrant not only to the author's own
theology, but to the theology of the entire movement? Why does he imply
Jesus isn't Davidic (Mk. 12:35-37)? Why is Mark's Jesus, without
apology, of Galilee? Why does John the Baptist doubt Jesus (Mt.
11:2-3)?... [more below]
I'm not sure what the "so many things" are that go
against Mark's theology, and can only deal with the ones Rick offers.
In the matter of the Messiah being "of Galilee" I dealt with that
above, that it was largely by default, since some of the Q movement in
Galilee had
developed the founder figure adopted by Mark, who also made him the
Messiah. Moreover, if Jesus to some extent represented the community
itself, then he was automatically Galilean if the community was
Galilean, or traced its roots back to that area. Why isn't Jesus
embraced as Davidic by Mark? Judging by Mark's argument in those
verses, this is a case of Mark trying to adhere to his theology, not go
against it. As Mark sees it, "David" (of the Psalm) calling Jesus
"Lord" must make the latter much more than a simple human "son" of
David, as standard Jewish messianism had it. Further, if Jesus is to
some extent an allegorical representation of the community, Mark
couldn't very well adhere to a strict interpretation of Jesus as a
direct descendant of David. (Matthew and Luke after him did not feel
the same qualms, perhaps not having the same allegorical outlook as
their predecessor and, as well, perhaps regarding Mark's figure as
basically
historical.)
...As Alan F.
Segal notes: "The answer is that the criterion [of dissimilarity] was
designed not to make it possible to write a biography of Jesus, but to
answer the challenge of the cultural despiser of Christianity as to
whether anything--including Jesus himself--is historical in the
Gospels. . . Very few things pass (which is just what we would expect),
but some do. Of course, this is the most important reason for using the
criteria, for if some things pass, then we know that Jesus existed."
("Jesus in First Century Judaism," published in Jesus at 2000, ed. Marcus J. Borg,
page 57).
I suppose that is my chief caveat with your work--it not
only doesn't adequately account for the vast majority of that which
survives the criteria of dissimilarity, it ignores it entirely.
I very
much enjoyed your site, and thank you for your thorough and reasoned
work. I have yet to form an opinion on the historicity of Jesus, and am
beginning to doubt that I ever will. For me, the matter has been
relegated to one of intellectual curiosity only, having rejected Jesus'
divinity a very long time ago.
I have one question. It concerns Galatians 1:19, wherein
Paul says he saw "James, the Lord's brother." My understanding of the
Greek behind "brother" in that verse is that it refers to an actual
brother, rather than a member of some rabbinical or apostolic group.
If, indeed, Paul claims to have seen "the Lord's brother,"
then doesn't that put to rest the matter of whether or not Paul
believed in an actual earthly Jesus? The passage to me seems critical,
but I have searched the web for an anti-historicity perspective on it,
and can't find one. Did Paul mean something other than Jesus by "the
Lord"? Did he mean something other than an actual brother?
Response to Gerry:
"James, the Brother of the Lord"—Again
I have to confess to being, by this time, somewhat
amused by all the fuss which opponents of the mythicist case (not
including Gerry here) create over this phrase in Galatians 1:19. These
five words, despite their ambiguous meaning, are regularly offered as
a secure hook on which to hang the existence position. Let's test them
to see how much weight they can bear.
1 - The word "brother" itself. As I have said in my
Sound of Silence Appendix (it bears repeating): "Paul uses the term
"brother" a total of about 30 times, and the plural form "brothers" or
"brethren" (as some translations render it) many more dozens of times.
A minority are in the context of ethical teaching, Paul admonishing his
audience about how to treat one's "brother." In most of these (if not
all), the term means a fellow believer, not a blood sibling. In all of
the other cases but one—leaving aside the passage under consideration
here—the term can only refer
to a Christian believer, usually in the
sense of one who is doing some kind of apostolic or congregational work
(Timothy, Epaphroditus, Sosthenes, Tychicus, Apollos, etc.). IN NOT A
SINGLE INSTANCE CAN THE TERM BE IDENTIFIED AS MEANING SIBLING."...And
yet so many traditionalists confidently claim that in this case,
"brother" means sibling.
2 - If Paul had meant something as informal or
off-the-cuff as "sibling of Jesus of Nazareth", we might have expected
him to use the name "Jesus" rather than the title "Lord." And yet we
are assured that the "Lord" in Galatians 1:19 can only mean Jesus of
Nazareth, sibling of James. We are similarly assured (or at least it is
unquestioningly assumed) that "Lord" must be referring to Jesus, and
not to God.
3 - It is claimed to be critical that nowhere else
does Paul use the singular phrase, "brother of the Lord." At the same
time, the plural "brothers of the Lord" in 1 Cor. 9:5 is similarly
claimed to refer to Jesus' siblings (as in Mark). However, we read in
Philippians 1:14 the phrase "brothers in the Lord." Here we have an
identical phrase, in the plural, with a change of preposition. Here,
"brothers" is acknowledged to be understandable only in the sense
of "brethren," members of a brotherhood or group of fellow believers.
Throughout the epistles, we are clearly in the presence of a group
centered in Jerusalem and devoted to a "Lord," a group
of which James seems to be the head, a group of which 500 members
underwent some "seeing" of the Christ. And yet when the word "brother"
becomes singular in Galatians 1:19, it reputedly switches to the
meaning "sibling." When the group of brethren changes its preposition
from "in" to "of", certain members of that group automatically become
relatives
of a recent human man.
4 - James in Galatians 1:19 is claimed to be the
sibling of Jesus of Nazareth. And yet the writer of the epistle
attributed to James describes the reputed author this way: "From James,
a servant of God and the Lord Jesus Christ." No mention of a sibling
relationship, despite the fact that pseudonymous authorship was used
precisely to give such epistles more authority. Would the writer/forger
have passed up the opportunity to appeal to the stature and authority
of James as the Lord's very blood brother? Similarly, the writer of the
epistle attributed to
Jude describes the reputed author this way: "From Jude, servant of
Jesus Christ and brother of James." If Jude is sibling of James, he is
then sibling of Jesus, as supported by Mark. Another writer/forger
fails to appeal to the stature and authority of another brother of
Jesus. This would seem to undermine the very fact of James' Gospel
relationship to Jesus, and thus cast serious doubt on the meaning of
Paul's phrase.
Let's take a look at that related and similarly
disputed phrase "brothers of the Lord" in 1 Corinthians 9:5.
Automatically asserting that this refers to Jesus' sibling family is
not supported by Paul or any other first century epistle writer, since
they never
talk about their Jesus having a family, or indeed relate him to any
recent time, place or event on earth. (The reference to Pilate in 1
Timothy 6:13 is part of an epistle dated to the 2nd century by
virtually all critical scholarship.) In the 1 Corinthians passage, Paul
is
claiming, as an apostle, the same rights as certain others he mentions:
"as do the other apostles and the brothers of the Lord and Cephas
(Peter)". Who are these "other apostles"? Well, the passage shows that
he means them in the same context as himself, preachers of the Christ
who have also "seen the Lord" in the visionary sense, and it is in
keeping with
his practice of never differentiating himself from any others in the
field on the basis of having been a follower, or not, of an earthly
Jesus. He never allows for such a distinction, which would belie his
having any concept of fellow apostles having known an earthly Jesus,
let alone that one of them was his sibling.
And what of the "brothers of the Lord" next mentioned? Are they not "apostles" as well? If we follow the tendencies of some who base their arguments on the nitty-gritty of extant wording, they must not be apostles, since they are mentioned separately. And yet both wording and context suggest that this can hardly be the case. They are described as having wives that accompany them, whom they 'take along.' Clearly, they too are on the road. (And they too are undifferentiated from Paul in his present arguments on the basis of any connection to an historical Jesus.) So if they are all in fact apostles who travel about preaching, on what is the distinction based? We see elsewhere—as in 2 Corinthians 10-12—that Paul is one of many apostles who go about preaching the Christ in competing missions, some of whom (including Paul) are not part of the Jerusalem brotherhood. In this great conglomeration of missionaries, some are independent operators, some are members of the Jerusalem-based "brothers of/in the Lord". They are all aware of each others' activities, they have contacts between themselves, though rivalries do exist. As a distinctive, identifiable group, whom Paul throws into the pot of his argument in the plea for equal treatment, it is likely that his "brothers of the Lord" are a sub-group of apostles located in Jerusalem, of which James is a part if not the head. My point in this discussion is to show that viewing them as something other than "siblings of Jesus" is completely feasible and supportable within the context, and thus the phrase is at best ambiguous. It cannot be used to 'disprove' the mythicist case.
The mythicist argument does not depend on conclusively
demonstrating the meaning of that phrase "brother(s) of the Lord". The
case is based on all the other material and analysis of the early
Christian
record. All one has to do is demonstrate that the phrase under debate
lends itself to equal or even
better interpretation as not
referring to a sibling of Jesus. The larger case has a power of its
own, and I am merely demonstrating that the Galatians phrase
constitutes no necessary impediment to it.
In any case, the practice of basing one's argument on the
nitty-gritty
wording of any individual passage is an extremely hazardous affair. The
1 Corinthians 9 passage discussed above is a good illustration. Since
Paul goes on to include "Cephas" in his enumeration of those he is
comparing himself to, Cephas must not be an apostle, since he is listed
separately. Naturally, few would accept this. Rather, it seems Paul is
simply singling him out for emphasis. Thus, listing him separately
doesn't necessarily mean he is not one of the "brothers of the Lord" in
the sense of the Jerusalem brotherhood, since later in the epistle he
is clearly portrayed as such. Here again, Cephas, as a star figure in
the group, is spotlighted by Paul for the sake of his argument.
Remember that these epistles are mundane, often
off-the-top-of-the-head products, and we can't expect them to have some
kind of laboratory preciseness that allows us to derive consistently
reliable meanings behind what they say. This is doubly so considering
that we have nothing close to the original texts. Which brings me back
to the Galatians 1:19 phrase. As with its 'brother' in 1 Corinthians 9,
this phrase does not appear in extant documents until at least the 3rd
century, maybe the 4th (I don't offhand know if either of them appear
in the fragmentary parts of some Pauline epistles dating to the 3rd
century). And yet I've seen whole arguments for the "sibling" meaning
of 1:19 that are based on the presence of the word "the" in Galatians'
"the brother of the Lord"! Good grief! How can we be sure that Paul
used that word? Similar "indisputable" cases are claimed because he
used "of the Lord" rather than
"in
the Lord" so that there can't be any connection or
similarity of meaning with the phrase in Philippians 1:14! How can we
be sure just what preposition
Paul may have used, especially as a common feature of manuscript
transmission is that phrases and references tend to get altered to
conform to the most commonly known expression of them. By the late 2nd
century, James the Just was known
as "the brother of the Lord" in the sense of sibling, which would have
been a compelling influence on a scribe to change whatever Paul might
have said here to the now-familiar phrase.
In fact, in view of all that we know about scribal alteration
of
documents, deliberate and accidental, how can we be sure that the whole
phrase is not an interpolation, as I've argued more than once (as has
Wells)? It would fit the characteristics of an interpolation, and there
is a logically "possible" situation available for its creation,
namely that some copyist in the latter 2nd century or later thought it
best to distinguish Paul's "James" from James the apostle, son of
Zebedee, who appears in the Gospels, and so he stuck in the phrase
(perhaps in the margin, where it later got transported into the text, a
common occurrence)
"brother of the Lord." Again, by the copyist's time this phrase had
come to mean
"sibling of Jesus."
My point is, so much may be dubious and uncertain about the
text of this
or any NT passage, that we have to be careful of what we presume to
rely on, and it is surely unwise to base an historical Jesus on a
couple
of uncertain passages in the record when so much else argues against
making such a
supposition. The mythicist case needs to be considered as a whole, and
then we can see how much weight we feel justified in according an at
best ambiguous phrase as in Galatians 1:19 or 1 Corinthians 9:5. I
would
certainly hesitate to rely for secure footing on such flimsy
foundations.
If I may indulge a little analogy I sometimes think of: A wife
is led to be suspicious of her husband because he is suddenly starting
to work late, can't be reached at his office after hours, dresses more
nattily on some days and comes home with lipstick on his shirt, etc.,
but one night he rolls over in bed, puts his arm around her and
whispers "sweetheart", so she dismisses all her misgivings by presuming
he means her, and is thus a loving and faithful husband. I would call
that wishful thinking. It reminds me of a lot of anti-mythers.
I am very much enjoying your website. In the Reader Feedbacks I noted some commenting on the Isaiah prophecy [7:14]. I do not read Hebrew, but from what I understand there are translation problems with the sentence. I believe the Hebrew uses the word almah and not bethulah, and the word should therefore be translated 'young woman' and not 'virgin'. I also believe that the entire sentence is in the past tense (so that it should read) "A young woman gave birth to a son and his name was Immanuel..." I also believe that this Immanuel is of some importance a few pages later in the conflict with the Assyrians, and therefore has nothing to do with a prophecy of Christ except in the (erroneous) Greek translation on which the Gospel writers would be relying.
Response to Julian:
Isaiah 7:14 / "Born of Woman"
The noun "almah" used
in Isaiah 7:14 is ambiguous,
because it
need not signify a virgin, nor does it exclude such a meaning. The
Septuagint chose to render it parthenos,
which generally does mean a virgin, but some other ancient Greek
translations did not. As to the tense of the verb, it is not "past" but
is ambiguous as well. "The Hebrew of Isaiah 7:14 does not
specify the tense of the relevant verb. The most recent translation of
the Hebrew Scripture by the Jewish Publication Society reads, 'a young
woman has conceived'; the choice of the future tense, 'will conceive,'
reflects a decision that more aptly favors the NT interpretations of
this verse but is not dictated conclusively by grammar alone." (Gerald
T. Sheppard in Harper's Bible
Commentary, p. 556)
Subsequent use in Isaiah of the "child" motif is
made in
prophecies relating to the later actions of the Assyrians and others,
but
without specifying the name Immanuel. Rather than this being the same
'child,' this is considered the work of editors who have enlarged
on the
motif by employing
it for later events in a similar manner to that of 7:14. In fact, in
8:1-4, the child is
given a completely different name, one relating to the context of those
verses, which speak of the impending Assyrian conquest. In the
well-known 9:6, heavily messianic in later interpretation, the
"boy/child
(who) has been born for us" exists within the Israelite context of the
expectation of a Davidic-style return to greatness for the nation. Even
later,
Christians would turn it into a prophecy of their Christ. Sheppard
tries to suggest that the latter 'messianic' use of the child motif in
these chapters invites a messianic understanding of 7:14. But this
seems little more than an apologetic expedient to try to rescue 7:14 as
having some import for the future,
whereas it was clearly used by the original author of Isaiah as a
device relating to his own time and situation. The child is now conceived, and certain things
will come to pass before he has grown up.
But I would like to move somewhat beyond the scope
of Julian's question and address the probable use of Isaiah 7:14 as the
source of Paul's controversial phrase in Galatians 4:4, "born of
woman." It has been my
position that many, if not all, of the human-sounding
references to Christ in Paul and the epistles generally can be seen to
be dependent on scripture (placed within a Platonic higher/lower world
philosophic context), and not upon historical tradition or knowledge of
a recent human Jesus. In other
words, is Paul's "born of woman" motivated or made possible by his
reading of Isaiah 7:14 and the necessity he perceived of applying such
biblical passages to his divine, spiritual-world Christ Jesus?
Those who appeal to Galatians 4:4's "born of woman"
usually do so in conjunction with a handful of other passages, notably
Romans 1:3 with its "arising/coming from the seed of David." Without
arguing in too much detail (as such passages are dealt with more fully
elsewhere on the site), I have pointed out that here the dependence on
scripture is, or should be, clear. This Davidic statement about the
Christ is declared by Paul to be part of God's gospel about the Son
found
in the prophets (verse 2). And he immediately follows it by offering
another
feature about the Son (verse 4: declared Son of God in power after his
resurrection) which is a heavenly scene most likely determined by Psalm
2:7-8. We thus have a direct example of Paul stating a "human" feature
for
Christ based on scripture, with no indication that any of it has
anything to do with known tradition about a recent man. Similar cases
abound throughout the epistles: among them, 1 Peter 2:22-3, in which
the writer
illustrates Jesus' humility by paraphrasing verses from Isaiah 53; or
Ephesians 2:17, in which the good news Christ proclaimed "in coming" is
also derived from Isaiah; or Hebrews 5:7, in which "the days
of his flesh" are illustrated not by Gospel events but by more readings
out of scripture. The pattern is pervasive. The
epistle writers of the first century base their statements about
Christ's activities not on memory and historical tradition but on
scripture.
Should we not be
justified in viewing Galatians 4:4 in the same light?
Declarations about "born of woman" are usually made
while ignoring its surrounding context. The phrase is introduced by the
statement that "in the fullness of time, God sent his Son". Yet what,
in that context, has been "sent"? The very next sentence, using
precisely
the same verb, states that God has "sent the spirit of his Son into our hearts."
(The root verb of "sent" is the same as that regularly used for the
sending of the Holy Spirit.) In the preceding chapter, what is it that
has "arrived" in the present time? In 3:23-25, Paul states it clearly:
it is the arrival of "faith",
not of Jesus himself. (The occasional translation of verse 24, "until
Christ came" stands in contradiction to verses 23 and 25, and can be
alternately translated as "to lead us to Christ," as the NIV and NEB
recognize.) Furthermore, the subject of the verb "redeem" ("sent his
Son...in
order
that he might redeem those under the law"), while technically
ambiguous, reads best as referring to God himself doing the redeeming
in the present time and not the Son. Such contextual features ought to
cast doubt on the phrase "born of woman" as referring to the recent
birth on earth of Jesus of Nazareth.
But an even more important objection is usually
overlooked. It is often argued that the phrase "born of woman"
in Jewish writings always refers to a human being, that it was a Jewish
idiom for a human being. Comparisons are made to Job (e.g., 14:1) or
Sirach (10:18), or even with Matthew and Luke's reference (from Q) to
John the
Baptist as "born of woman" (Mt. 11:11, Lk. 7:28). Therefore, it is
claimed, Paul must be using the phrase with the same meaning. But there
is a serious problem here. Paul does not say "born of woman." Rather,
he says
something which all English translations render with those words. In
fact, the words Paul does use in Greek do not conform to the other
Greek
versions of that allegedly same phrase, either in the Septuagint or the
Gospels. Nor
can we appeal to the Hebrew versions, because this begs the question
that the phrase in Hebrew is the equivalent of Paul's own Greek phrase.
In other words, there are no instances of Paul's specific phrase to be
found with the standard meaning of being "born" (physically, humanly)
of woman. Consequently, all arguments based on this comparison collapse.
What does Paul say? He notably does not use the standard word for
"born" (gennaō)
which appears in all the Greek passages appealed
to for comparison. (Matthew
and Luke use an adjectival relative of the verb.) Instead, Paul
uses the verb ginomai. While
the latter verb is occasionally used for "born" in Greek, it has a much
broader application, in the sense of "come into existence," "be
created," "arise, occur, come to pass," etc. We are not justified in
taking a similar phrase which nevertheless uses a different verb and
start by automatically assuming that the two phrases 'must' have the
same meaning. This ought to be compellingly obvious.
In fact, if "born (gennaō) of
woman" is so common to refer to a human being, and Paul is referring to
a human being, why does he not use the standard phrase? What would
impel him to change the verb? Does this very change not imply that Paul
does not intend it to have
the
same meaning?
(Paul's own verb ginomai, by
the way, is the one he uses in Romans 1:3 when declaring Jesus as
"arising from the seed of David." If he meant "born of the seed of
David" in the human sense, why did he—or the writer of this piece of
liturgy before Paul, as many scholars view it—not simply use gennaō?) I
have suggested that the use of the broader ginomai would fit the more mythical
context which Paul's Christ inhabits, which is not recent history.
The only
attempt I have seen to rationalize this change of verb went something
like this: Paul does not want to use "born" because this might imply
that Jesus began his life at his human birth; since Jesus pre-existed
in heaven, he only "came" to earth through the agency of a woman giving
birth to his human incarnation. This suggestion might conceivably be on
the right track, but for the wrong reason. Ginomai usually means, as I have
said,
come into existence or be created, which is exactly what Paul is
claimed to have wanted to avoid in passing up the verb gennaō.
Furthermore, what believer, subscribing to the
epistles' view of the pre-existent Son, would be led by a use of gennaō to
think that Christ had somehow begun his existence at his human birth?
Such a confusion would simply not arise, and thus Paul would not feel
constrained to adopt an unusual word for birth. In any case, Jesus the
man—whose arrival on earth Paul is allegedly referring to—was "born" in the gennaō sense,
no one would dispute that or consider it philosophically unsound in
relation to his spiritual preexistence, so there would have been no
logical reason for Paul not to have used that verb IF HE WAS REFERRING
TO A HUMAN BEING.
As for what Paul did
mean by using ginomai may be
difficult to say. Gennaō was
ruled out because he was not referring to the human birth of a human
man. On the other hand, it's clear he did not mean "be created, or come
into existence" by using ginomai.
Perhaps it had some mythological connotation for him. Perhaps it
could convey the sense of "come" or "change" from one state to
another, from purely spiritual to the "likeness" of flesh, a lower
state that was "in
relation to" the flesh; and it was through the (mythological) agency of
"woman" if only because Isaiah 7:14 said so. I am sometimes criticized
for not supplying "evidence" for this argument. Who else, it is
demanded, uses a phrase like "born of woman" to refer to an entirely
mythical figure?
No one, of course. Again, Paul doesn't say "born of woman" in the gennaō sense;
but even "born of woman" in the ginomai
sense is not to be found. Is this significant? I hardly think so. We
have no equivalent writings to those of someone like Paul from the
Greek savior-god cults. And if this is Paul's personal deduction from
his
reading of Isaiah 7:14—and most of what he says about the Christ is
claimed to come through his own personal revelation—then it is not
surprising that no other early writer of the Christ cult happens to use
the
same expression. (And let's not overlook that no early Christian writer
outside the Gospels ever speaks of Christ as "born of woman" even in
the gennaō
sense!) Argument, rather than evidence, is all
that is available, but this does not render using argument any less
legitimate an exercise.
By extension, comparisons are often made to certain other
passages in the epistles implying birth or human descent. I've already
pointed out the most common of these, Romans 1:3, which runs into the
same problem as Galatians 4:4 in its use of ginomai. Paul is not saying here
that the Son was "born" of the seed of David. Another is Romans 9:4-5,
and let's examine this verse a little more closely. Here there is not
even a verb at all, neither gennaō nor
ginomai. The NIV begins by
nicely reflecting the literal structure of the passage: "Theirs [Paul's
kinsmen, the people of Israel] is the adoption as sons; theirs the
divine glory, the covenants, the receiving of the law, the temple
worship and the promises. Theirs are the patriarchs, and from
them...[here the NIV abandons the literal in favor of reading the
historical Jesus into things]...is traced the human ancestry of
Christ." Well, the last phrase is not in the Greek. Literally, it
reads: "...from whom [the Israelites] the Christ according to the flesh
(kata sarka)." I won't go into
the broad and ambiguous usage of kata
sarka which I have argued over at great length in many places
and on various discussion boards. Suffice to say, this passage when
taken as a
whole is not strong, let alone conclusive, on implying that Christ is
physically descended
from the Israelites. Rather, the enumeration Paul gives us includes
Christ, but it is in the sense of things that belong to the Israelites, part of
their identity (all we get is the genitive plural preposition ōn): the law, the covenant, the temple worship, the promises.
Christ, too, belongs to the Israelites, having proceeded in some way
(again, influenced by the David prophecies) from them—ex ōn—in regard to the
flesh or the sphere of the flesh, which does not have to mean
physically
possessing it in the
earthly sense.
All that we can say Paul is declaring about Jesus is
that he belongs to the Israelites in regard to his redeeming
activities, which took place in a realm that related to the material
one. This conforms to my statement that Paul's savior god could be said
to have a national "lineage" that was Jewish, just as other savior gods
had their own lineage. Some, including Richard Carrier, have taken me
to task for not supporting this with direct comparisons to those other
gods of the mystery cults, but they have read too much into this. My
statement is hardly unusual. Osiris could be styled as "Egyptian" in
that he was part of Egyptian mythology and (originally) located in that
country; similarly, Adonis as Greek, Attis as Phrygian, Mithras as
Persian.
Paul's Christ Jesus has a Jewish mythology, grown out of the Jewish
scriptures and related to Jewish historical figures by those
scriptures. Thus he belongs or is related to the Israelites. The fact
that Paul and other writers, in passages like Romans 9:5, never use a
more specific phrase such as "Christ's human ancestry" (which
translators and critics of the mythicist case nevertheless insist on
inserting into their reading of such passages), would strengthen the
argument that they are not referring to anything so specific.
I have also been taken to task over another
statement relating to "born of woman": that similar things were said
about other savior gods, such as Dionysus. (Note that I don't say the
phrase itself can be found in reference to this, only the idea.) It is
regularly pointed out that such a feature for a god like Dionysus was
envisioned as having taken place on earth. That's true, but with two
qualifications. This type of mythology tended to be placed in a
primordial past; it originated at a time when there was no concept of
distinct spiritual and physical worlds. Nevertheless, this primordial
(or sacred) past was the earlier equivalent to more Platonic views of
the universe, and I have argued that the latter came to largely replace
the former
by the time of Christianity's beginnings. Things worked in similar ways
in the relationship between primordial and historical times as they did
between higher and lower worlds in the Platonic system, and so such an
evolution would not have been too difficult conceptually. In ways we
cannot define too
exactly (we don't have enough extant writings), such concepts as
Dionysus being "born of woman" should have been able to undergo a
transfer to the new
Platonic setting. The Christ cult, as preached by Paul, arose at a time
when the Platonic view was established, and thus there was no
'primordial past' phase for Christian mythology. It took up residence
directly in the higher/lower-world milieu of the mystery cults in
general—which is why it had such a paucity of the earth-based style of
features until the Gospels came along.
But where it lacked earth-based primordial-past features, it compensated by plumbing an equally rich source, the Jewish scriptures. As I've pointed out above, everything that is said about Christ, his nature and activities, can be shown to have a scriptural precedent or impulse. A few like Romans 1:3 are spelled out for us. Paul's Christ is an evolution out of scripture, particularly the latter's messianic passages, and thus all these references had to be applied to the new savior god. The traditional Messiah had become the divine Son and Logos. Therefore, all the references to a descendant of David restoring the nation had to be applied to the new Christ Jesus; he had to be "of the seed of David." In the confused messianic reading of Isaiah 7:14, he had to be "conceived and borne by a woman." Some difficulty may well have been present in getting the mind around this concept, but there it was, in scripture. Perhaps, as suggested above, this was why Paul chose to change the verb in his Galatians 4:4 phrase and elsewhere. It was too much to style this as a literal, historical birth; and so some nuance, perhaps, entailed in the word ginomai got around the application of Isaiah 7:14. It was too jarringly infeasible to speak of Jesus' "human ancestry" in describing his relationship to the Jews, as in Romans 9:5, and so such a connection was subsumed under the more general "in relation to the flesh": kata sarka.
We must also keep
in mind that in this era, the dominant philosophical outlook of the
day, Platonism, influenced those who interpreted the meaning of sacred
scripture to do so in terms of higher world
realities—as witness Philo. Although we have no way of knowing whether
Paul had read
philosophers like Philo or was simply breathing the atmosphere of his
time, Pauline passages like 1 Corinthians 8:6 and Colossians 1:15-20
(as well as yet another writer's very Platonic opening chapter of
Hebrews) show that the early Christian epistles inhabited this thought
world. (Regardless of whether Paul himself may have been a "Pharisee":
Paul was an innovative thinker and not straitjacketed by mainstream
paradigms.) Thus it is not a stretch to see statements like Galatians
4:4 and Romans 1:3 and 9:5 as relating to those spiritual world
realities and their relationships with the material world, and not to
recent history—just as the mystery cult myths were being viewed in the
same period.
As for the follow-up phrase, "born under the law," this need be little more than an expansion on the "born of woman." It's a different way of referring to Jesus' relationship to the Jews, as belonging to them. However, there is no necessity to think that Jesus was regarded as personally subject to the law. In fact, the whole of chapter 3 suggests otherwise: Christ supersedes the law, and by belonging to him and sharing in his nature as the "seed" of Abraham, the believer inherits God's promise and emerges in a state free of the law. Both phrases also serve to connect Christ and his believers within that paradigmatic relationship at the foundation of the Hellenistic salvation system: both undergo the same experiences and share elements of nature (a "like" form which the god takes on, suffering and death, etc.), so that humans will receive the benefits and guarantees generated by the god's actions. This is a concept going back into the dim past, long before Paul and his predecessors formulated their redeeming Messiah-Son.
In Daniel 9:24-27 is a prophecy that explicitly gives the amount of time between when Jerusalem was "rebuilt" and when "the Anointed One" will come. If one dates the timing of the decree to rebuild Jersualem as in Nehemiah 2:1 [444 or 445 BCE], uses known dates for the reign of King Artaxerxes, and counts the number of days according to the different calendar systems, one gets a date for the Messiah's coming around 30 CE. How do you explain this? This seems unlikely to just be a coincidence, as it is just about the only prophecy of the Messiah that gives a specific date for his return. The fact that Daniel was written in the second century BCE would not affect the validity of this prophesy, although it would discredit just about all the other ones in this book.
Response to Malcolm:
The Prophecy in Daniel 9 / Old Testament Prophecy
Old Testament prophecy: one of the most frustrating
subjects in the entire field of biblical research.
Actually, "research" is almost the wrong word. This subject has little
to do
with critical research and everything to do with apologetics. Inherent
in questions like Malcolm's is not the
issue of Jesus' existence or anything to do with understanding the
historical development of the bible. Nor is it so much a question of
understanding the mechanisms of prophecy and their interpretation.
Rather, the apologists who put forward
such things as the prophecy in Daniel 9 are claiming that this is
evidence of the bible's sacred nature and Jesus' divine role. If
Daniel's 'prophecy' can be shown to point to Jesus,
this would make Jesus the object of some divine code
placed in scripture and boost the claim for his divinity.
Let's approach this from a number of angles, and
common sense is going to figure in all of them. Critical scholarship
has adequately demonstrated that the
writer of the book of Daniel is heavily embroiled in the crisis Israel
went through (167-164
BCE) during the
reign of its Hellenistic overlord Antiochus IV, a crisis that resulted
in the Maccabean uprising. Conforming to one of the features of
apocalyptic writing (in fact it was a major trendsetter in that genre),
the writer has 'dated' his work to the 6th century BCE and assigned it
to the legendary figure of Daniel in order to provide an assortment of
'prophecies'
that had already come to pass prior to his own time. By presenting
the 6th century Daniel as successfully predicting the future in those
cases, the writer strengthens the reader's willingness to believe in
the prophecies he is actually making in regard to his own future. But
that future is an immediate one, not one almost two centuries hence.
The writer's focus is entirely on the Antiochian crisis, and there is
no reason to think that in this passage he chooses to step outside
his subject and supply a prophecy for the 1st century CE or beyond.
(Such an
"atomistic" use of scripture—divorcing a given passage from its
context—is the mark of conservative apologetics, not critical
research.) Even more ludicrous would be the claim that a divine mind
behind the author of Daniel took control of his pen at that point and
inserted one of the Deity's many cryptic indications of the coming
of a Savior-Son the immediate writer had no inkling of.
With that in mind, let's take a look at the prophecy
itself and how some interpret it. I'm not sure what Malcolm is
referring to by "different calendar systems" or counting by days, but
standard approaches to interpreting this 'prophecy' do so in simple
terms of years, arriving at 490 years for the so-called "70 weeks of
years". First, one must realize that this prophecy is an interpretation
of an earlier prophecy of Jeremiah (as in Jer. 25:11-12)
which forecast the period of the exile (587-538) as 70 years. Chapter 9
begins with a
perplexed Daniel musing about this prophecy. (It
was inaccurate, as the exilic period did not last for 70 years,
which may explain Daniel's perplexity.)
The angel Gabriel arrives to provide an explanation; he gives it an
interpretation which is an expansion of the original Jeremiah prophecy,
applying it to (Daniel's)
future. The Deity apparently has to revise an
earlier prophecy which turned out to be inaccurate in its plain
interpretation—Jer. 25:11-12 clearly relates the 70 years to the period
of the Babylonian subjection—by letting a later prophet know that it
was
really more cryptic than that, and was meant to apply to a period in
the further future. That later prophet, whether Daniel himself or the
2nd century BCE
author writing in his name, in turn misunderstood the explanation,
since the
context of the book of Daniel makes use of the revised prophecy
to forecast the time of Antiochus IV. It was left to a yet future
clarification by Christians to apply this evolving prophecy to Jesus
and their view of the impending end of the world. Subsequent
generations, right into the 20th century, have been forced to
manipulate the prophecy's features even further in order to solve the
1st century inaccuracy (the end did not arrive when they expected) and
to rescue its continuing relevance.
Several scholarly interpretations of the writer's
application of the 70 weeks of years have been offered. But first,
let's see how it is claimed to apply in the apologetic sense, as
relating to Jesus. If the reference in 9:25 is to the order to rebuild
Jerusalem's wall in 445 BCE (and this is not as clear-cut a case as it
seems), add 490
years and you come up with a date of 45 CE, not 30 or 33, or whatever
date is claimed to apply to Jesus' death or the beginning of his
ministry. (I confess I am not familiar with all the ins and outs
of the apologetic manoeuvering that attempts to get the dates to
properly coincide.) Then there are problems with the prophecy itself.
If
this is a divine indicator of the future coming of the Son and Savior
of the world, it's pretty trivial. Verse 26's reference to "an anointed
one" being "removed" (NEB) or "cut off" (RSV, KJ) is all that is said
about him, with no indication of any particular importance for this
figure, certainly no more than for the earlier "anointed one" mentioned
in verse 25 who came centuries earlier. Consequently, to style this
passage as a prophecy of "the Messiah" is a little misplaced, since
there is no focus on one individual, no single
"anointed one". Far more attention, in
fact, is given to
the "prince" (v. 26-27) who will come immediately afterward
to destroy the city and temple, and there is no suggestion that this
prince is acting as a consequence of the "cutting off" of the previous
anointed one. To interpret Jesus out of all
this is an exercise in maddening obscurity.
As far as numbers go, linking the prophecy to the
crisis in the time of Antiochus (167-164 BCE) is not so
straightforward either. If we take verse 24 to refer to the rebuilding
of the city walls in 445 BCE, then 490 years far overshoots the time of
Daniel's author. But there are a number of other considerations. First
of all, the angel
Gabriel is expanding on the Jeremiah prophecy. And as W. S. Towner (Harper's Bible Commentary, p.704)
points
out, the first seven weeks of the 70 weeks of years exactly fits the
period of the
Babylonian exile that Jeremiah was forecasting, that is, the 49 years
from 587
to
538 BCE. Towner, and John J. Collins (The
Apocalyptic Imagination,
p.86-7), suggest that the first "anointed one" of verse 25 could be
Zerubbabel, styled "governor" in Haggai 1:1 and 2:2; or possibly
Joshua,
the first post-exilic high priest at the same time. In Haggai,
Zerubbabel and Joshua are
charged with rebuilding the temple when the exiles first came back to
Jerusalem, so perhaps the reference by the angel to the onset of the
prophecy's period is intended as the time of the return, rather than a
century later under Nehemiah. This doesn't solve the math, however,
since 490 years from c.538 is still too far, even if one deducts 49
years as applying to the pre-538 exile period. (62 weeks until the
cutting off
of the later anointed one, or 434 years, carries us to 104 BCE.)
The details of the latter part of the prophecy,
on the other hand, fit very well
the circumstances in the Antiochian crisis of 167-164. The later
"anointed one" many seek to identify with Jesus is better fitted to
Onias III, the
last 'legitimate' high priest who was deposed in favor of his brother
in 175 and then murdered some time later (2 Maccabees 4). The 62-week
period up to Onias is
followed by a final week in which the temple is desecrated and other
horrors befall. This carries us into the pivotal time of the years
following 167 when
Daniel's author was writing, and the details of the crisis are mirrored
in the details of the prophecy, although the writer goes out on a limb
and forecasts an ending to the final week which was not in fact
fulfilled in history. (Which leads scholars to deduce that he was
writing in the midst
of the crisis and before its resolution.) Some try to link the final
stages of the prophecy with the Jewish War (66-70 CE), but this doesn't
fit the details, which place the arrival of the "prince" and the
outbreak of war immediately after the fall of the "anointed one," not
35 to 40 years later.
These discrepancies are much more critical on the
apologist side. If this is a divine prophecy, it should be accurate,
with no margin of error. If, on the other hand, it is simply a
human writing by a mind saturated with the primitive traditions and
superstitions of his time, then we need not expect it to conform
to our modern sense of accuracy and rationality. In much the
same way that the New Testament book of Revelation's inconsistencies
and
contradictions are not resolvable by rational standards (which doesn't
prevent many from trying to make them so, since this document is
presumably God's word, too), we need to look elsewhere than strict
mathematics for the
explanation of the 70 weeks of years prophecy.
John J. Collins (Ibid.,
p.87) follows this line of reasoning. "The angel explains that the
seventy weeks [sic: Collins must mean
"years" making this a typo] of Jeremiah are really seventy weeks
of years. It is
assumed that the biblical number can be regarded as a symbol and
interpreted allegorically. The seventy weeks of years, 490 years, are
not the product of any chronological calculation. Rather they reflect a
traditional schema, ultimately inspired by the idea of the jubilee year
(Leviticus 25) and may be taken as an instance of 'sabbatical
eschatology.' We have seen similar schemata in connection with the
Apocalypse of Weeks, the seventy generations in 1 Enoch 10, and the
seventy shepherds in the Animal Apocalypse. At least some of the
Enochic passages are older than Daniel and show that Daniel drew on
traditions that were shared by other apocalyptic writings."
In other words, counting weeks, days or years is an
exercise in futility. The writer of Daniel was governed by "traditional
schema" and fitted these into his pattern, regardless of whether the
numbers worked accurately or not. But while Collins is following the
right track, I think his focus is a bit off the mark. Seventy may
be a traditional figure in apocalyptic usage, but the writer of Daniel
is setting out not so much to conform to that pattern as to deal
directly with the Jeremiah prophecy and its 70 years. That prophecy
blithely predicted the establishment of some kind of paradise for
Israel at the fulfilment of the period. Such a paradise or
transformation of the world, of course,
never comes about, and so later generations—continuing into our own
day—feel impelled to explain
why it didn't come, and to substitute a reinterpreted or new prophecy.
It wasn't 70 years that Jeremiah meant before Israel would be restored
in all its glory, says the angel, but 70 weeks of years. The writer of
Daniel is stuck with the 70 figure and makes do as best he can, without
worrying too much about whether it's an exact fit for his purposes.
Despite what he says about the rebuilding of the
city, or what specific date he may have had in mind, Jeremiah's 70
years began at the start of the Exile, which supports the theory that
the first seven weeks (49 years) of the prophetic span in Daniel refers
to the 49 years of the exilic period. Otherwise, we would have quite a
striking coincidence. As for the rest of the time span, we should not,
as I say,
expect the creator of this expanded prophecy to be scientifically
accurate. His subsequent 62 weeks are not broken down or identified
with any particular events; they are simply the remainder when the
outer edges were cut off. (He may not even have bothered to calculate
whether they fitted exactly.) It is the final week of his 70 weeks of
years that he is
most concerned with, and that week is employed quite accurately since
they
refer to the events of his own time.
We might note in passing that the vagueness and
inaccuracy of such 'prophecy' is characteristic of apocalyptic writing
generally. This is why scholars and apologists often have difficulty in
matching what these prophecies or visions say with actual history.
(Revelation's conglomeration of apocalyptic and mythological figures
and motifs is notably frustrating in its inconsistency and obscurity.)
We have to remember that the genre as a whole is fantastical, crude,
and primitive in its mindset, reflective of those who created it. To
regard any of it as the
pronouncement of an omnipotent God is ludicrous in the extreme.
As Collins intimates, the prophecy in Daniel (along
with its other prophetic passages), is in the same genre and possesses
the
same features and quality as prophetic expressions found throughout
Jewish writings over the course of centuries. Since we hardly grant a
necessary divine authorship and accuracy to, for example, the
Apocalypse of Weeks in 1 Enoch 93, what would lead us to do so in
Daniel 9? Certainly, the quality of the latter prophecy, in terms of
reliability and sophistication, is no greater than those of
non-canonical documents. All are an expression of the temper and modes
of thinking of the time. To arbitrarily grant divine status to select
examples, indeed to regard such ancient, primitive expressions as
continuing to have any relevance for modern beliefs and evaluations of
history or reality, is a travesty of the intellect.
Yet even segments of modern New Testament
scholarship continue to stand by these apocalypses and try to justify
their features. J. C. Whitcomb Jr., in the very conservative New Bible Dictionary (p.264),
points out that one must posit a "hiatus" before the final week of the
70, since "Christ placed the desolating sacrilege at the very end of
the present age" (according to the Little Apocalypse of the synoptics,
as in Mt. 24). Arguing that such hiatuses are common in the Old
Testament, he inserts an indefinite period between week 62 and the
final 7 days, characterizing the latter as "a 7-year period immediately
preceding the second advent of Christ, during which time antichrist
rises to world dominion and persecutes the saints." When even educated
minds can continue to subscribe to such mumbo-jumbo, we as a society
are in desperate intellectual straits.
The problem is, so is our view of God—if such an
entity
exists. All these things are reputed to be his expression, his means of
'educating' the faithful, of pointing the path to salvation. Lee
Strobel, in The Case for Christ,
devotes an entire chapter to Jesus as the fulfilment of Old Testament
prophecy, touting it as one of the justifications for Christian faith.
Conservative and not-so-conservative Christianity still appeals to the
idea of prophecy of Jesus imbedded in the Jewish scriptures, as a
'proof-text' of the validity of the New Testament and Jesus' own
divinity. Scriptural passages, such as those of the Suffering Servant
Song of Isaiah 53, are pointed to as amazing and telling forecasts of
Jesus' experiences in his passion, totally ignoring the far more
sensible idea that the passion segment of the Gospels has been
constructed
by the
evangelists, who pieced together those passages and others into a
coherent story, which makes the 'fulfilment' of those 'prophecies' part
of a
circular process.
And there is the larger question of our view of a
supposed God,
or rather our justification of him. As I say in my book Challenging
the Verdict: A Cross-Examination of Lee Strobel's 'The Case for Christ',
(p.137): "Did it not occur to Mr. Lapides [the interviewee in the
chapter on prophecy, and a convert from Judaism to Christianity on the
basis of its alleged fulfilment in Jesus] to wonder why God would
operate in this manner? Was the omnipotent creator of the universe
playing with his creatures? To imbed in a motley collection of writings
little bits and pieces of data about the future life of his Son on
earth, obscured by their contexts, trivialized by their brevity, open
to contradiction by their own inconsistencies, and then to expect that
all people would divine and recognize a future Jesus figure who turned
out to be a dramatic departure from the established expectations set up
by many of those alleged prophecies? Such behavior on the part of the
Deity would seem bizarre by any standard. When it is claimed that this
procedure was God's way of providing the means by which human beings
could anticipate and believe in Jesus and thereby gain eternal
salvation, the idea becomes positively outrageous."
Look out upon this universe of a billion billion
suns,
into its fantastic microscopic makeup, its long history of evolution
and the complexity of life and the human mind, and then turn to the
bible
and read Revelation and Danielic prophecy, or Jesus talking to demon
spirits that cause illness, walking on water and out of his tomb, the
fantasies of heaven and hell, the principle of blood sacrifice of an
incarnated deity coming at one time and place as the only means of
humanity's salvation. It's time
to take stock of the long outdated foundations of western society and
bring our belief systems into line with 21st century reality and
rational thinking.
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