Category Archives: Christianity’s failure to deliver

If the Gospels were History…

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If the gospels were written by eye-witnesses, we should see the use of the first person singular or plural: ‘I saw this happen’, ‘we heard him say that’ and so on. This would not necessarily mean that the author was present, just as he isn’t in the ‘we’ passages in Acts, but it is what we should reasonably expect if the authors were involved in at least some of the events. There are no such instances in any of the gospels.

We would see gospel authors identifying themselves, at the start of their accounts, for example. We don’t.

We would not see an eye-witness lifting significant amounts of material from someone who wasn’t an eye-witness. Yet Matthew plagiarises Mark, ‘improves’ it and passes it off as his own. This isn’t eye-witness behaviour and it is not how eye-witness testimony works.

We would see the gospel writers cite their sources: Mark would tell us he’s recording Peter’s recollections and that he witnessed Jesus’ trial personally (there’s no evidence he did either, speculation from centuries later notwithstanding.) Luke would tell us which accounts he’s referring to in Luke 1:1-2. While we now know he too plagiarises Mark and quite probably Matthew, he doesn’t admit it. We would know the source of events that took place behind closed doors such as Jesus’ interview with Pilate.

We could expect contemporaneous accounts independent of the gospels, recording the miraculous events they claim occurred; the wandering star, the earthquakes, the hours long eclipse, the healings and controlling of nature, the resurrected zombies, the ripping of the 35 foot temple curtain, the resurrection of an executed criminal. Instead there’s nothing, not even in later works such as those of Josephus (because all of these events are metaphorical).

We should expect Cephas (known as Simon Peter in the later gospels) to have recorded his experiences with Jesus. Yet, when he gets his chance, in the letters he supposedly wrote (1 and 2 Peter), he makes no mention of them at all.

We should expect the Christians prior to Paul to have recorded some of these episodes. Some argue that they did, in a document now called Q, but this precious document was, unbelievably, soon lost or abandoned. Alternatively, they may not have seen the need to write anything down because they believed the world was about to end very soon. Either way – no accounts from them about ‘the history of Jesus’.

We should expect Paul to mention aspects of the Jesus story in his letters. After all, he claims to have persecuted Christians for some time before his conversion and to have met and conversed with Cephas for 15 days. Yet he conveys no details at all. Instead, he claims all he knows of Jesus derives from visions and ‘revelations’ in his head. His account of the bread and wine ritual informs Mark’s story of the Last Supper, not the other way round; it is – Paul says clearly – another ‘revelation’ in his head.

We should expect there to be details about Jesus’ earthly life in other books of the NT. Instead we find only a celestial high priest in Hebrews and a warrior Christ in the supposed visions of Revelation. Nothing historical here.

We should, if the gospels are history, expect them to read like history. History, including that written at a similar time does not include angels, devils and apparitions, magic stars, virgin births, miracles and supernatural healings. Where it does, as in Constantine’s vision of the cross, such elements are seen for what they are: myth, not history.

We would not expect the central figure of the gospels to be constructed almost entirely from parts of older religious writing. This is not a technique used in genuine historical records.

We would not expect to find the level of metaphor and mythic tropes – magic, supernatural characters, returns from the dead – in what is ostensibly an informational text. History does not rely heavily on metaphor and symbolic tropes the way the gospels do. There is no ‘logic of history’ in the Jesus story.

We would expect to see geographical and political details relayed reasonably accurately. Instead, Jesus’ trial arrangements are highly improbable; they do not conform with what is known about Roman trials – and we know a lot, because of the records they kept. Jesus would not have had a personal interview with an indecisive Pilate, who would not have consulted the mob, would not have sent Jesus to the Jewish authorities or Herod and would not have offered to exchange Jesus for Barabbas (there was no ‘tradition’ of exchanging one criminal for another) and so on. From what we know of him, Pilate would have authorised the execution without a qualm, as he did for many other would-be messiahs. The rest – the gospel details – are drama, Jewish scripture brought to life with added metaphor. Fiction, in other words.

The Bible as Metaphor (again)

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A few days ago, Dennis and I visited Penrith, a small market town a short distance from the city where we live. What a delight it was to discover that the street preacher who plagues our city – the humourless Dale McAlpine – also inflicts himself on this smaller place. We so enjoyed hearing him bellow out, as we manoeuvered past his confederates handing out poorly written tracts, that we were all sinners – ye, everyone of us – bound for hell.

As we stopped at an ATM we heard Dale announce how Jesus healed lepers and cured leprosy, which patently he did not. He said Jesus’ healing of lepers was a metaphor for what he could do for us all, by removing our sin and making us whole again. His metaphor schtick – an sophisticated one for a simple street preacher – put me in mind of our very own Camp commenter. As Sunday school teacher Don frequently reminds us, the Bible is a) literature and b) largely metaphorical.

In case he’s forgotten and is arguing this week that we should view the bible’s stories as historical accounts (his other favourite tack), here’s what he actually said:

Much of scripture is the kind of literature in which metaphor and other kinds of figurative language is common… you are out of touch with the literary character of ancient literature.

I hope you all feel thoroughly chastised by this. I know I do. Don was taking exception to my post in which I itemised the Bible’s mythical creatures, talking animals and impossible events. So, I’m going to take him, and Dale at their word and take a fresh look at the Bible’s use of ‘metaphor and other kinds of figurative language’

First though, let’s understand that metaphor and figurative language are distinctly literary techniques. In literature and sometimes in speech, metaphors make subtle comparisons and bring to mind a host of associations that the author does not then have to explain. Outside of fiction, they don’t have much of a function. We don’t, for example, attribute metaphorical meaning to human events and interactions in the real world. The present war in the middle east is not a metaphor for something else, like, for example, the warfare that Christians believe rages in the Spirit world. Sleepy Joe Biden’s activity, or lack of it, is not a metaphor for the present condition of the USA (let’s hope not anyway). Our personal relationships are not metaphors for something grander. There is no metaphor embedded in actual events or real world interactions.

No. Metaphor exists almost entirely in literature. While the occasional non-fiction author might add a metaphor for flourish, strictly speaking, metaphor exists in and for fiction and poetry. More than this, when, in fiction, ideas are expressed metaphorically, it signals that the surface meaning is of lesser significance. It is the underlying or hidden meaning that matters. The fiction is the vehicle by which the metaphorical truth is conveyed. Don admits as much in his comment.

Let’s try some illustrations. The underlying metaphor of The Great Gatsby, its truth, is the dark underside of the American dream. Its surface story isn’t real; it is fiction. The metaphor conveyed through Moby Dick – the fictional whale as well as the novel as a whole – is the destructive nature of obsession. Again, as powerful as this is, none of the story that conveys it actually happened. Frankenstein’s central metaphor is the danger that uncontrolled science represents to humankind. The story that carries this message is, however, pure invention. In All The Light We Cannot See, Light is the metaphor, as it frequently is. The characters’ insights into truth are what the author seeks to convey. The fiction is the vehicle of that truth. Choose your own example: fiction embodies metaphor, the ‘truth’ of the story. But the story itself is rarely an actual event. Even when it’s based on one, as the movies say, the narrative is extensively fictionalised.

So, let’s go back to Dale’s leprosy metaphor. In several gospel stories, the authors have Jesus cure lepers precisely to illustrate how he can heal people of their inner leprosy: their sinful nature. Jesus almost certainly did not heal any lepers; this is the fiction. The creators of the gospels designed the story to carry metaphorical meaning, which, in this case, is that Jesus can heal us from sin.

Likewise the stories in which he heals the blind; the blindness is metaphorical. The saviour opens people’s eyes to spiritual truth. He didn’t really cure blind people; that is the fictional vehicle for the metaphor.

He didn’t turn water into wine; the writers of the fourth gospel wanted to convey the spiritual ‘truth’ that the new cult’s beliefs were superseding old Jewish ones; a metaphor was a memorable way to do it.

Lazarus was not raised from the dead; the story is a metaphor to illustrate how God will raise believers at the last day.

The Romans did not execute Jesus; it was the spiritual rulers of the age who, according to Paul in 1 Corinthians 2:8, put the saviour to death. The Romans are the metaphor for the wickedness of these supernatural beings.

Jesus did not rise from the dead. This too is a metaphorical fiction.

How did I do, Don? I’ve interpreted isolated periscopes from the gospels metaphorically. I’ve borne in mind that metaphor and other figurative devices are purely literary, techniques in fiction. I’ve channelled the literary character of ancient literature as defined by you (except of course you never actually do define it.)

You are invited to respond. I offer to post your comment, if it is as lengthy as I expect it to be. You must, however, keep to the point and resist making personal jibes. Choose any of the miracles, healings or pericopes from the gospels and demonstrate that they are real historical events.

It matters to you and to other Christians that the events of Jesus’ life did happen. That they’re not just the invention of clever writers who, taking inspiration from Jewish scriptures, created metaphorical events to convey higher ‘truths’. So persuade us that at least one miracle, healing or episode is more than a literary device, a metaphor for some fanciful theological ‘truth’. Provide the evidence that it really happened. Claiming the disciples witnessed the miracles or healing won’t cut it, when the disciples are themselves characters in the stories, and metaphorical at that.

A Reply to a Slave

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I’ve discovered this new gizmo that lets me look stuff up on the Interweb. Goober or somesuch. I used it to find the meaning of ‘doulos’ that the absence of dictionary prevented you from doing. All of the results Goober brought up described doulos thusly:

Doulos (Ancient Greek: δοῦλος, Greek: δούλος, Linear B: do-e-ro) is a Greek masculine noun meaning “slave”. Wikipedia

Doulos (a masculine noun of uncertain derivation) – properly, someone who belongs to another; a bond-slave, without any ownership rights of their own. Biblehub (Christian site)

…anyone could become a slave, in a sense. However, once someone was sold into slavery, they remained a slave for life, and all of their offspring automatically became slaves as well. The only standard way of obtaining freedom was to earn enough money to pay your owner back as much as he had paid for you in the first place. This was a nearly impossible task to accomplish because slave owners did not often facilitate their slaves ability to earn money on the side. As such, most slaves, and their offspring remained slaves for the totality of their lives. Slavesandsons (Christian site)

Doulos is a Greek word in the Bible that has only one true historical option for accurate translation into English, which is slave. It literally means to be owned by someone for a lifetime. This word is found at least 127 times in 119 verses in the New Testament scriptures. It is used in the context of human slavery, which, sadly, was very common throughout the ancient Roman Empire for hundreds of years. Recorder.com (Christian site)

You’ll see none of them say what you say, Don. None think slavery was a nice amicable arrangement. Christian sites especially emphasise how slavery was a downright awful thing so’s they can sermonise about how Jesus saves us from slavery to sin.

If you’re going to reduce real world, God-approved slavery to something akin to a nice comfortable arrangement, you diminish the metaphor of Christ’s redemptive work to… not much at all. (Which of course it isn’t.) I noticed you didn’t comment on this point when I mentioned it in an earlier post and here you are digging yourself in deeper with your ‘slavery wasn’t really all that bad’. Good work, Don!

You’re certainly enslaved to all this Christian mumbo-jumbo. To Christ though, not really. There’s no such being and you certainly don’t give the impression of being a slave in any real world sense. Perhaps that’s because you have no understanding of what slavery was and is.

Jesus Shows How To Treat Slaves

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Jesus’ parable of the talents

Three slaves are given money by their owner, two invest it while the third buries his share. He is castigated by his master (yes, it’s Jesus as his favourite metaphor: slave master) who says to him on his return:

I tell you that to everyone who has, more will be given, but from the one who has not, even what he has will be taken away. But as for these enemies of mine, who did not want me to reign over them, bring them here and slaughter them before me. (Luke 19:26-27)

I know, that last sentence doesn’t fit the rest of the story, but it tells us what a despicable s**t Jesus was, quite happy to see those who didn’t want a peasant with delusions of grandeur lording it over them exterminated. Thank God the Romans got to him first (if indeed he existed.) No-one likes a dictator, specially not another dictator.

How about the conclusion to the actual parable, the one about the slaves and the money? The talents are evidently a metaphor for something or other. According to Christianity.com, it’s that the third slave, ‘didn’t take joy in the promise of the master’s return but instead wasted his time, his opportunities, and the master’s money.’

In other words, it’s fanatic talk aimed at those with a lack of commitment to the cult and its beliefs, including the ‘master’s’ imminent return, when wastrels will be in big trouble. As Christianity.com puts it:

Those who are not (faithful) may face the harsh reality of being called a wicked and lazy servant. Worst of all, they may not share in the joy of their master’s presence when he returns.

And there we have it, the softening of Jesus’ dictatorial original: ‘will’, as in ‘will lose everything’ becomes the hedging-your-bets ‘may’ while ‘slave’ (doulos again) becomes the watered-down ‘servant’. After all, we wouldn’t want to draw attention to how much of a cruel bastard Jesus was originally conceived as being. (Because, yes, these stories were invented by the early Jesus cult.)

The cult took no prisoners; in terms of commitment. It was all or nothing. Waiver in that commitment and you risked expulsion when the slave-master returned. So much for being redeemed unto salvation, so much for salvation by grace alone. If you weren’t utterly committed you stood to lose it all. What the original cultists weren’t to know, of course, was that the master would never return. The whole sorry parable was as irrelevant then as it is now.

Redeemed: From Slavery to… erm, Slavery

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Thanks be to God, who delivers me through Jesus Christ our Lord! So then, I myself in my mind am a slave to God’s law, but in my sinful nature a slave to the law of sin. (Romans 7:25)

Do you not know that if you present yourselves to anyone as obedient slaves, you are slaves of the one whom you obey, either of sin, which leads to death, or of obedience, which leads to righteousness? (Romans 6:16)

(We are) justified freely by his grace through the redemption that is in Christ. (Romans 3:24)

When a slave had served sufficient time and had accumulated sufficient wealth or found a benefactor, he or she could buy their freedom. This seems particularly egregious when their servitude was already, in the case of debt, the means of paying back what was owed. In effect the enslaved individual was paying twice for their freedom. Be that as it may, the act of buying oneself out of slavery was known as redeeming oneself; redemption. Likewise, a third party buying your release was also known as redeeming. We still use the term in this sense today: a pawned item can be redeemed, bought back, for a greater amount of cash than the pawnbroker originally paid for it. The related term ‘ransom’, in Mark 10.45 has the same sense; paying money to secure the release of a captive.

The principle of buying oneself out of captivity and slavery underscores the Christian idea of redemption. It is the analogy Paul and other New Testament writers use, to explain Christ’s paying the price, through his sacrificial death, for the slave’s release. He redeems (or will do at some future point depending on which fantasist you’re reading) in exactly the same way a slave was redeemed, from a life of captive slavery to sin/the Law/Satan and his minions. 

There’s a catch. If a slave was redeemed by a third party, he was likely to find himself not free at all but the property of whoever had redeemed him. His debt having been paid off to his first owner, he might very well find himself in hock to a new one. So it is with Christian redemption. Christ may have paid off your perceived debt to your original owner (sin, Satan or whoever) but now you’re indebted to him. You’re his slave, as we saw in the previous post.

To downplay slavery as it was practised in the centuries before the cult adopted it as an analogy, is to undercut redemption as Paul and early cultists perceived it. Arguing that slavery was a relatively benign practice removes the basis of Christian redemption; if being a slave wasn’t really too bad then neither can being a slave of sin/the Law/Satan be too serious either. There’s really no great need to be redeemed and what Paul says in Romans and elsewhere counts for nothing.

But we knew that anyway.

 

The Golden Age of Christian Values

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If only we could get back to the golden age of Christian Values. The one that existed when I was young, before things changed so much and when life was so much better. People believed in God, went to church every Sunday and had good old fashioned, biblical values. The troubles of today could so easily have been averted if only we’d stayed true to those beliefs.

Yes, If only we could go back…

‘Let me take you there,’ says a disembodied voice.

‘That you Jesus?’ I ask.

‘If you like,’ it replies, ‘but I’d rather think of myself as the Spirit of Times Gone By. Let’s you and I return to some of them together and see if we can’t find the Golden Age of Christian Values.’

I feel him take my hand and suddenly we’re travelling through a vortex in time, away from the 2020s and into the past. As we do so, my smartphone disappears from my pocket, as if it had never existed. Disconcertingly, my Fitbit does the same. I’m sure going to miss them.

‘Take a look here,’ says the voice as a vista opens up on front of us. ‘Behold, 2003.’

‘Yes,’ I say. ‘Things were so much better even just 20 years ago. No wokeness, no talk of irreversible climate change… and no one had heard of gender identity or drag queen story hours!’

‘Really?’ my guide says. ‘That’s how you remember it? America was still reeling from 9/11, a Christian president was about to invade a country that had nothing to do with the attack and there were a record number of tornadoes across the US. Things weren’t that great for a whole load of people, especially the ordinary folk of Iraq.’

‘I guess not,’ I concede. ‘Maybe we need to go further back. Find that special time when we hadn’t abandoned God and he hadn’t left us to our own devices.’

‘Let’s do that,’ my host says, as once again we take to the swirling vortex, emerging seconds later in what he says are the early 1990s.

‘Much better,’ I say. ‘No destructive social media, no same-sex marriage anywhere. The Berlin wall has come down and the Second Gulf War is set to be a great success.’

I can feel my guide staring down at me, though oddly I can’t quite make out the details of his face. ‘Really?’ he says again. ‘I’m surprised you mention that. There’s also the Siege of Sarajevo on the horizon, racial unrest following the beating of Rodney King and in Bangladesh 138,000 people have just been killed by an earthquake. Plus, as you say no social media to speak of. You do remember, don’t you, how much you like arguing with atheists on it. I’m not sure this is the time we’ve been looking for either.’

I have to agree it isn’t, as once again he takes my hand and we return to the vortex, emerging mere seconds later… when?

‘The ’80s,’ he announces. ‘AIDs, the Iran-Contra scandal, acid rain, Chernobyl. I don’t see any Christian Golden Age here.’

‘Oh, I don’t know,’ I reply. ‘At least there was the Moral Majority, a genuinely Christian president and in England, a Prime minister with Christian principles. She even quoted the Bible sometimes. We had politicians of real integrity in this time period.’

I feel him raise an eyebrow even though I can’t see him. ‘A Christian president who left thousands to die,’ he remarks.

‘They brought it on themselves. God’s judgement on a sinful generation,’ I tell him, pleased to score a point.

We move on. ‘The 1960s,’ he declares. ‘Could this be your Golden Age?’

‘If there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s that the 1960s were not the Golden Age. Definitely not. That’s when everything started to go wrong. Moral relativism, Women’s Lib, Civil Rights riots, Stonewall, psychedelic drugs…’ I stop to catch my breath. ‘Long hair, promiscuity, nudity, abortion, decadent music. Oh Lord, it was awful and it paved the way for the depravity and dissolution that was to come. If ever there was a decade in need of God it was this one.’

‘Let’s not forget Assassinations and Vietnam,’ he adds.

‘For sure. That’s what comes of abandoning God.’

‘It looks like the 1960s were nearly as bad as you say 2023 is. Maybe things don’t really change as much as you think.’

‘Maybe,’ I concede. I haven’t really thought about it before.

‘You know, says my companion, I’m beginning to think we’re further than ever from the Golden Age you seek. But I’m prepared to give it one more shot if you are.’

I agree and we’re off again, emerging this time in the 1950s. ‘This is it!’ I exclaim, ‘This is Christianity’s Golden Age! People going to church, looking after their neighbors; there’s prayer in school and real Christian standards. This is where it all happened and it’s here where we should all return.’

‘I see what you’re saying,’ the figure beside me replies, ‘but it wasn’t good for everyone, was it.’

‘What do you mean?’ I ask incredulously.

‘Well,’ he says, ‘it wasn’t a great time if you were black. There was segregation and I assume you know there were still lynchings in this era.’

‘I didn’t say it was perfect,’ I object.

‘No?’ he says. ‘In this Golden Age, women were expected to keep house, raise children and serve their husbands, just like it says in the Bible. Too bad if they wanted a life beyond that.’

I can’t see a problem with this but something stops me from saying so.

‘And of course it was illegal to be gay back here. Fines, imprisonment and ruin were the price to be paid. Staying hidden was the only option for many.’

‘Not a bad thing,’ I murmur.

‘Then there was the Korean War in which 2.5 million people died, including 36,000 American servicemen; the Cold War with its ever present threat of nuclear annihilation; McCarthyism, the paranoia of The Red Scare and the persecution of those presumed to have left wing views… Need I go on?’

‘No, no. I take your point. Perhaps this isn’t the Christian Golden Age I’m looking for after all.’

‘You still don’t get it, do you?’ my companion says. There is no Christian Golden Age. If we were to go back another ten years we’d find the Second World War and the Holocaust when 6 million of God’s Chosen People and 5 million others were brutally, senselessly murdered.’

‘I guess,’

‘You guess? And even if we were to go back to the start of your Faith you would find the infighting, corruption and immorality prevent even that from being a Golden Age.’

‘Oh, I think you’re wrong there. It says in Acts…’

But he cuts me off: ‘My friend, your Golden Age has never existed.’

‘I’m sure we could find it somewhere,’ I mumble.

‘No,’ he says. ‘This is it. This, here in the ‘50s is as good as it gets. But only for some. This is where we stop. This is where you stay.’

‘Stay? I don’t want to stay here. I need to get back to my own time, to my family and my technology. I’ve atheists to argue with online.’

I see his eyes glow high above me. ‘The only way you’ll get back is to live your life from this point on, through the decades you’ve dismissed, and see how far you get. But it’s unlikely you’ll get back to 2023. Life expectancy in the 1950s is much shorter than where you’ve come from. And you’re no spring chicken to begin with.’

‘No, please,’ I stammer. ‘You can’t. I don’t belong here. This isn’t a Christian Golden Age after all.’

But I was on my own. My companion, like my shaky beliefs, had simply vanished.

 

 

 

 

 

Jettisoned

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It’s all very well discussing how the gospels came to be, but are they true and do Christians adhere to what Jesus purportedly tells them there? Let’s take a look at one of his instructions from Matthew 23.8-10:

But you are not to be called ‘Rabbi,’ for you have one Teacher, and you are all brothers. And do not call anyone on earth ‘father,’ for you have one Father, and he is in heaven. Nor are you to be called instructors, for you have one Instructor, the Messiah. 

Context: Matthew’s cult community is moving away from synagogue worship and so supplies Jesus with words condemning Pharisaic practices. Instead, because the new cult at this point is egalitarian, they have him endorse its practice. One teacher: the heavenly Christ. One church: the brotherhood. One Father: God in heaven. One Instructor: the heavenly Christ again.

How quickly the church jettisoned this advice! By the time of Ephesians (written in the late 1st or early 2nd and certainly not by Paul who was long dead) the church is awash with ‘the apostles, the prophets, the evangelists, the pastors and teachers, (given by Christ) to equip his people for works of service, so that the body of Christ may be built up (Ephesians 4.11-12)

A little later still, 1 Timothy – again, not written by Paul – speaks of hierarchical structures of overseers (‘bishops’), leaders, teachers and instructors (the two words have the same meaning), while later in the first century, and in direct contravention of Jesus’ admonition, the Roman church started calling its priests ‘father’. The Pope, – the term means Father or Papa – soon became the Father of all fathers.

Did the early church not really believe that Matthew 23.8-10 recorded the words of Jesus? (They’d be correct if so.) Or did they think that they didn’t matter; were, in fact, optional? (Parenthetically, what is it with gospel-Jesus habitually referring to saviour-figures in the third person? He does it here – ‘one instructor: the Messiah’ – and when he refers to ‘the Son of Man’. Why should we suppose he means himself when he does this? He’s not afraid to talk at length in the first person about himself in John’s gospel, but in the synoptics he’s apparently too timid to do so and feels compelled to use the third person and hide behind alter-egos. Unless of course fictional gospel-Jesus, or his script writers, regards ‘the Messiah’ and ‘the Son of Man’ as beings other than himself.) 

Then there’s the modern church, with its pastors (‘shepherds’), bishops (‘overseers’), teachers, instructors and priests (‘elders’). Does it too consider that gospel truths about brotherhood, no father but God and no teacher except the Christ, to be optional – insignificant even? Apparently so.

Which other words of Jesus do believers feel free to jettison? We’ll take an occasional look in the weeks ahead.

 

An Open Letter to the Bride of Christ

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Every day, it seems, there are reports of pastors, ministers, priests, youth workers, church officials – you name it – who sexually abuse children, teenagers and other vulnerable people. These predatory abusers are especially repugnant because they are Christians; born again servants of the Lord, cleansed, supposedly, by the blood of Jesus. As such they have a higher moral standard than those of us who don’t have God to make us good. Or so you keep telling us. Instead these individuals take advantage of their status to rob others of their innocence, psychological well-being and the joy they should later experience in a healthy, adult sexual relationship.

You, the Bride of Christ, the Church at large, who harbour these truly awful people, need to get your house in order. You’ve had a mere 2,000 years to do it. Instead, you spend your time condemning atheists, gay people, trans-people, feminists. Have you not read 1 Corinthians 5:12: ‘What business is it of mine to judge those outside the church? Are you not to judge those inside?’ Likewise, you are told by your Saviour to attend to the log in your own eye instead of carping about the speck you perceive in others’.

You need to stop tolerating the abusers in your midst. Stop defending them when they’re found out, stop pretending all is wholesome and savoury in the Church. Stop lying when you claim that the few offenders who do get caught are mere bad apples and not ‘true’ Christians.

If not for the good of others, do it for your own sake. The Bridegroom when he descends to claim his Bride is not going to want to copulate with you, riddled as you are with malignant sexual disease.

 

The Gospels and Other Fiction, part 3

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The final part of my critical look at Christians’ defence of scripture as truth.

‘The logia of the Lord in all three of the synoptics stand out from the narration of the author by style and grammar.’

The same way Elizabeth Bennet’s/Jay Gatsby’s/Hermione Granger’s dialogue stands out from the narration and the speech of other characters in Pride and Prejudice/The Great Gatsby/Harry Potter. A skilled author can make all of their characters speak in different and distinctive styles, with their own particular grammar and syntax. This doesn’t mean those characters are real. Nor does the fact that some of the ‘logia of the Lord’ was carried over from Mark into Matthew and Luke mean the two later authors were at pains to preserve the real words of Jesus. They were, as scholars, including the evangelicals Dr Strauss and Dr Wallace suggest, copying, plagiarising, editing, amending and inventing his script.

There are also the omissions to take into account: words recorded by Mark that Matthew and Luke didn’t see fit to copy into their gospels. Were they not convinced these were genuine sayings of Jesus? Did they just not like them? On what basis did they jettison these ‘logia of the Lord’?

If only there were a fourth gospel that didn’t lift its logia from Mark, one whose Jesus speaks in a very different style, with different content, vocabulary, syntax and grammar from the synoptics, but which is itself internally consistent. We would know then his script could be made up.

Miracles of miracles, we do have such a gospel, one in which Jesus is completely different from the version in the synoptics. Where does this character’s logia come from? A different oral tradition, one totally separate from and uninfluenced by that used by Mark but which existed in parallel to it? Highly unlikely. An eyewitness? One who heard Jesus speak an entirely different set of words from whoever supposedly heard those eventually used by Mark? Of course not. The fourth gospel’s logia was invented by a much later author and his collaborators, with no direct experience of Jesus (if he existed). He and they do a pretty good job of writing his fake lines.

And if they can do it, why not Mark forty years earlier?

‘There are, in the synoptic gospels, fewer variations in the logia than in the surrounding shared narrative.’

This doesn’t mean there aren’t any. There are. For example:

Whoever is not against us is for us’ (Mark 9.40) v. ‘Whoever is not with me is against me.’ (Luke 11.23). 

‘And these are the ones sown on the good soil: they hear the word and accept it and bear fruit, thirty and sixty and a hundredfold.’ (Mark 4:20) v. ‘But as for that in the good soil, these are the ones who, when they hear the word, hold it fast in an honest and good heart, and bear fruit with patient endurance.’ (Luke 8:15) [Luke makes a terrible job transferring this parable from Mark to his own gospel. His is full of errors and discrepancies, generally attributed to ‘author fatigue’. He was just so tired of cribbing from Mark and Matthew.]

‘The time has come,’ he said. ‘The kingdom of God has come near. Repent and believe the good news!’ (Mark 1:15) v. ‘The kingdom of God is not coming in ways that can be observed, nor will they say, ‘Look, here it is!’ or ‘There!’ for behold, the kingdom of God is in the midst of you of you.’ (Luke 17.21)

It looks like isolating the logia and claiming because they are similar across the gospels they must be the actual words of Jesus. Matthew and Luke copying from Mark (and each other?) while John invents his own unique dialogue, makes for a far better explanation of both the similarities and the differences.

The Guilt Legacy

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A couple of nights ago I watched a programme called Jehovah’s Witnesses and Me fronted by Rebekah Vardy. I know nothing about Rebekah apart from the fact she’s a footballer’s wife who was recently involved in a social media scandal, but her reflections on being brought up in a Jehovah’s Witness household were honest and sincere. She said one of the legacies of her mother being ‘disfellowshipped’ when she, Rebekah, was 8 was that she felt, and still feels, guilty about much in life. The teaching of the organisation was, as it is in many evangelical churches, that the individual is a hopeless sinner who cannot please Jehovah, though must nevertheless endeavour to work out their own salvation. For JWs this involved (and still does, as you may know from personal encounters with them) going door to door and standing for hours on end in public spaces with a trolley-full of Watchtower publications.

I could relate to Rebekah’s feelings of guilt. While not a Jehovah’s Witness (I was never that gullible) my years as a Christian left me with a legacy of guilt. For many years it was the dominant emotion of my life. While a Christian I constantly felt I was letting God down: not as good a Christian as those around me, not witnessing enough, listening to pop music instead of worship songs – practically anything could trigger my not-good-enough feelings. I also felt responsible for anything that went wrong, even when I couldn’t possibly be, and guilt about my secret sexual feelings and, most especially that I wasn’t been a good enough father. To this day, I feel awful if I’m unable to help with my grown-up children’s problems. I am moving away from such fruitless thinking, and recognise that possibly I am naturally inclined to blame myself for events both within and outside my control. Christianity nonetheless exacerbated the problem, with its emphasis on the sinful worthlessness of the individual who is nothing without Jesus. I have, I’m pleased to say, got a lot better since abandoning its negative anti-human philosophy.

What scars has religion left those of you who are escapees from religion with? I’d be more then pleased to hear it’s none, but most of the ex-Christians I know have not come away unscathed. Feel free to share in the comments.