Jesus’s death
It’s strange, but I don’t think I ever actually knew why Jesus was executed! Sanders puts forward his view in chapter 16 of “The Historical Figure of Jesus”.
Jesus and his followers went to Jerusalem for Passover and Unleavened Bread (two feasts, one long event) – all Jewish males were required to go, it was like a pilgrimage. They would sacrifice a lamb at the Temple and eat it at the Passover meal. Jesus did more teaching during that week, but he also did 3 symbolic acts: the triumphal entry on a donkey, which fulfilled scriptural prophecies; the turning over of the money-changers’ tables at the Temple; and the last supper with his disciples.
1. He made a triumphal entry on a donkey in which people greeted him as “king”. Probably not huge numbers of people, as he would have been arrested there and then if that were the case: “Passover was a prime time for trouble-makers to incite the crowd, and both the high priest and the Roman prefect were alert to the danger.” By the way, the high priest Caiaphas was sort of the governer of Jerusalem; he answered to the Roman prefect, Pilate, who was not normally involved in local governance but made a point of coming during the pilgrimage incase there was trouble to deal with.
2. He turned over the tables of the money-changers and the seats of the pigeon-sellers. This was a symbolic act but is difficult to interpret. Sanders is sceptical of the sciptural quotations Jesus is supposed to have made at the time of this act, which are often interpreted as meaning that he wanted reform of the system; Sanders instead links the act with a prediction Jesus made that the Temple would be destroyed. This predictive statement is likely to be authentic as it does not describe exactly what happened later (the Temple wall actually still stands). “…we can say that Jesus did not otherwise (as far as we can tell) spend his time … attacking the commerce that was necessary to the functioning of the Temple. He did, however, have quite a lot to say about a looming dramatic change to be wrought by God. This inclines me to think that the actions of overturning symbolized destruction rather than cleansing as an act of moral reform.”
Further, at his trial, Jesus was accused of threatening to destroy the Temple; this accusation also appears during his crucifixion, and mention of the threat even resurfaces in Acts. Sanders says about this: “The authors of the gospels are at pains to assure us that Jesus did not really threaten to destroy the Temple. … They protest too much. It is probable that he made some kind of threat. … It is more likely that Jesus said and did something that onlookers believed to be a threat and that genuinely alarmed them. They reported it to the authorities. But when they were examined in court, they – like other eyewitnesses – gave slightly different accounts. We cannot know precisely what Jesus said. I shall assume that he threateningly predicted the destruction of the Temple; that is, he predicted destruction in such a way as to make some people think that he was threatening it.”
He probably believed God would destroy and rebuild it as a newer, better Temple.
It was this act of turning over tables, along with whatever he said about the destruction of the Temple, that Sanders believes earned Jesus his execution. “If the high priest Caiaphas and his advisers knew that Jesus had been hailed as ‘king’ when he entered Jerusalem, they would have already worried about him. The Temple action sealed his fate.” It wasn’t that they thought Jesus could physically destroy the Temple, or that they thought he had amassed a secret army; it was simply that they feared he could incite the large crowds at the pilgrimage and cause unrest. Sanders cites other similar cases recorded by Josephus, a first-century documenter of history, that show it would be fairly normal to execute someone who did what Jesus did.
3. The last supper is very well-attested and was symbolic of what things would be like in the new kingdom. Sanders makes little commentary on the statements about the wine being Jesus’ blood and the bread being his body, but says it is very likely Jesus knew he was “a marked man” at this point. He didn’t run away, though. “He hoped that he would not die, but he resigned himself to the will of God.”
It is this resignation to the will of God that I can’t decide whether I think is impressive, or horrifying. This attitude continued through his arrest and his trial: “Conceivably he could have talked his way out of execution had he promised to take his disciples, return to Galilee and keep his mouth shut. He seems not to have tried.” I guess he was so committed to his truth that he was prepared to die for it. He wasn’t going to take back anything he said, or be dishonest, just to save his life.
A couple more interesting points:
The bit where the high priest, Caiaphas, tears his clothes in response to Jesus’ supposed blasphemy (verse 63 here) – if it really happened – was an exaggerated overreaction designed to get the advisers on board with the execution. Blasphemy was not the reason for execution.
Interestingly Pilate (the Roman prefect) is made to look sympathetic in the gospels, so as not to offend the Roman authorities who would read them! In reality Pilate would just have OK’d the high priest’s recommendation to execute Jesus – he “probably regarded him as a religious fanatic whose fanaticism had become so extreme that it posed a threat to law and order.”
Finally, chapter 17 briefly deals with the resurrection accounts. Sanders rules out that the accounts are all fabricated, since people were willing to die over their convictions that they had seen the risen Jesus. He believes at least some followers had “resurrection experiences”, but the accounts differ so much that we can’t even know who had the experiences, or how they experienced Jesus to be like. “The reader who thinks that it is all perfectly clear – the physical, historical Jesus got up and walked around – should study Luke and Paul more carefully. The disciples could not recognize him; he was not ‘flesh and blood’ but a ’spiritual body’. He was not a ghost, or a resusciated corpse, or a badly wounded man limping around for a few more hours: so said Luke and Paul, and John (20.14f.) agrees.”
“That Jesus’ followers (and later Paul) had resurrection experiences is, in my judgement, a fact. What the reality was that gave rise to the experiences I do not know.”
Jesus’s life
I have finished “The Historical Figure of Jesus” by E. P. Sanders, and it was very interesting and enlightening. In this post I will share what I’ve learnt about Jesus’ life and mission, saving the part about how he died for another post.
Jesus started out under John the Baptist, before embarking on his own ministry. He called 12 disciples, close followers; the number 12 was symbolic of the 12 tribes of Israel, and he said that they would judge the 12 tribes when the kingdom of God came. His main message was that the kingdom of God was coming very soon (i.e. within his own generation), and this was a common theme of the day. It seems to have referred to a dramatic intervention by God to establish a kingdom on earth ruled by God himself (the eschatological stuff), and also, referred to heaven. He taught about what the kingdom would be like. He had many followers and supporters but he expected only a few to give up everything and join him in his highly insecure existence. Even after his death, his followers continued to expect the kingdom, and gradually adjusted their expectations when it was not forthcoming.
He performed miracles, mainly healings and exorcisms, which earned him local fame. His ethics were perfectionistic, but his main emphasis was not on presenting rules but on showing mercy and compassion. He was not a social or political reformer – he believed the kingdom was coming soon and that God himself would establish it, so there was nothing people could do to bring it about.
Jesus saw himself as representing God – it is unclear whether he took on any titles like Messiah or Son of God, and it is unclear what “Son of Man” meant, which is how he sometimes described himself. It is unclear whether the Son of Man who he predicted to descend on a cloud when the kingdom came also referred to Jesus himself, but it might have. He seems to have thought of himself as “king” in some sense; he was fully aware when he rode on a donkey into Jerusalem that he was making this identification of himself (because it fulfilled scriptural prophecy). It’s worth pointing out that “Son of God” did not imply “more than human” or “divine” where it was used in the Jewish tradition; that and the virgin birth story came with the influence of Greek culture. To the Jews it always meant a person who had a close relationship with God.
Here is some more info under various headings – sorry it’s so long! If you’re pushed for time, “Ethical teaching” and “Sinners” are the most interesting parts, so skip to them. 
Miracles
Jesus’ miracles were mainly healings and driving out demons. He was not the only healer or exorcist, and it was not taken as a sign that Jesus was more than human, but it meant he was viewed by some as a holy man and his fame arose from it. He saw the miracles as symbolic of the kingdom being at hand.
Some of the miracle stories are probably exaggerated or even made up. The biggest example is the exorcism where demons go into swine which then jump into the sea. Mark sets this story in Gerasa and Matthew sets it in Gadara, neither of which are on the sea. “The apocryphal gospels of later centuries sometimes depict Jesus as performing equally fantastic and grotesque miracles, some of which are even crueller than the destruction of swine, such as killing his childhood playmates and then restoring them to life, or turning them into goats. That is, sometimes Christian authors wished so strongly to present Jesus as a being able to employ supernatural power that they depicted him as being no better than a god of Greek mythology in a bad mood. For the most part, the canonical gospels are free of this tendency. Here, however, Jesus’ spiritual power over demons is so emphasized that it has resulted in an unattractive story.”
Also, the dramatic incident of feeding the multitudes seems to provoke no response from the crowds in the gospel stories, in contrast with other gospel stories where his fame spreads due to a single exorcism. You would think such dramatic miracles would result in mega-fame but this doesn’t pan out through the stories. Perhaps the feeding of the multitudes didn’t really happen. “…it could be reasoned that historically there was little response because there were few major miracles, while in the gospels there are great miracles but inexplicably little response. Possibly Jesus’ actual miracles were relatively minor and excited the public only temporarily. This is a speculative, though I think reasonable solution.”
Gentiles (non-Jews)
“All of the authors of the gospels favoured the mission to Gentiles, and they would have included all the pro-Gentile material that they could. … What is striking is that the evangelists had so few passages that pointed towards success in winning Gentiles to faith. They could cite only a few stories about Jesus’ contacts with Gentiles, and even these do not depict him as being especially warm towards them. … We must suspect that the most favourable statements about Gentiles … are Matthew’s creation. Consequently, we cannot be absolutely sure what Jesus’ own view about Gentiles was. On general grounds, I am inclined to think that he expected at least some Gentiles to turn to the God of Israel and to participate in the coming kingdom. The general grounds are these: a good number of Jews expected this to happen; Jesus was a kind and generous man. That is, the alternative to thinking that Jesus looked forward to the conversion of Gentiles would be that he expected them all to be destroyed. This is unlikely.”
Ethical teaching
Jesus had an idealistic moral perfectionism: turning the other cheek, loving the enemy, and so on. His prohibition of divorce is the most well-attested pericope. Paul modified it to permit divorce with a non-believer; Matthew has Jesus give an exception – divorce is permissible following adultery. “We can hardly think that the early Christians invented the prohibition: they found it very difficult and had to modify it.” I got the impression that while he was an ethical or moral perfectionist, this didn’t extend to ritual perfectionism, like it maybe did with the Pharisees and Essenes who were super-strict in that way – although he did follow the ritual laws.
But although he expressed these high ethical ideals: (1) He didn’t teach very much about inner thoughts – Matthew has two instances of this here and here, but that is all; most of what he taught is more about actions than inner thoughts. (2) He emphasised “compassion towards human frailty”. (3) He was not a puritan – he “came eating and drinking”. (4) He made friends with sinners (see below).
This passage shows that to Jesus, real perfection is mercy – being like God who “sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous”.
Attitude to Jewish law
Sanders proposes that Jesus does not ever oppose or “abrogate” the law, but requires a stricter code of practice (ethical perfectionism as discussed above). Even with divorce – Moses’ command to give a divorce certificate becomes unnecessary but is not declared “wrong”. In regard to this one, the law does not actually command hatred of enemies and this was not generally taught in Judaism, so that is not a law being abrogated. “Eye for eye” sets a limit for retaliation, and non-retaliation is not forbidden by law. In regard to Jesus supposedly declaring all foods clean in Mark, Matthew does not have this – and according to Sanders, what Jesus meant was that not only what goes in (food) defiles a person, but also what comes out (wrong talk).
Sanders justifies this theory by explaining that there would be more of a sense of opposition to Jesus in the gospel stories if he really advocated abandoning the law. “Had he gone around Galilee, teaching people that it was alright to work on the sabbath and to eat pork, there would have been an enormous outcry. A man who claimed to speak for God, but who taught that significant parts of God’s law were not valid? Horrendous! Nowadays, non-Jewish readers may not see how terrible this would have been.” Sanders explains that Mark is retrojecting this into Jesus’ story from the point of view of 2nd-generation Christianity, where the law has been abandoned. “Mark calmly tosses in the sentence, ‘He declared all foods clean.’ Paul’s letters crackle with the rage and hostility that his position on circumcision and food laws occasioned. Paul experienced the debate about the law firsthand. Mark (a second-generation Christian) did not, since it was largely over, nor did Jesus, since it had not yet arisen.”
Apparently it is highly unlikely that small-scale legal disputes would have caused some groups to plot to kill him as it states in Mark 3:6. In particular, no group would have considered that healing to be a transgression of the sabbath law. “In Jesus’ day and age… people did not kill one another over the sorts of issues that figure in Mark 2.1 – 3.6. The level of disagreement and argument falls well inside the parameters of debate that were accepted in Jesus’ time.” I didn’t entirely understand why the authors made it look like people were plotting to kill him over these petty legal disagreements, but I think he is saying that it was written from the point of view of the later legal disputes in early Christianity.
Sinners
His association with sinners – blatant law-breakers – did actually offend people. And Sanders makes the point that he must not have been trying to reform the sinners, because that wouldn’t have offended anyone. “If Jesus had managed to persuade other customs officers to do what Zaccheus did, he would have been a local hero. But it seems that he was criticized. How can we understand this?”
Repentence as a theme in Jesus’ teaching is really only prominent in Luke and Acts (which are written by the same author). Matthew and Mark have surprisingly little about Jesus teaching repentance. John the Baptist certainly preached repentance, but it seems not to have been at the forefront of Jesus’ teaching.
“Jesus, I think, was a good deal more radical than John. Jesus thought that John’s call to repent should have been effective, but in fact it was only partially successful. His own style was in any case different; he did not repeat the Baptist’s tactics. On the contrary, he ate and drank with the wicked and told them that God especially loved them, and that the kingdom was at hand. Did he hope that they would change their ways? Probably he did. But ‘change now or be destroyed’ was not his message, it was John’s. Jesus’ was, ‘God loves you.’”
I found that particularly interesting, and really quite moving. In fact it was my favourite part of the whole book. The parable of the shepherd and the lost sheep is one of the best examples to illustrate the point: God, the shepherd, goes out to find the lost sheep and bring it home. He does not wait around for the lost sheep to return. The emphasis is on God reaching out in love and mercy, not on the sinner repenting.
“In a world that believed in God and judgement, some people nevertheless lived as if there were no God. They must have had some anxiety about this in the dark watches in the night. The message that God loves them anyway might transform their lives.”
How does this square up with the moral perfectionism? I guess maybe Jesus understood these sinners, understood why they were that way… didn’t judge them, supported them as society’s underdog, and even saw good in them. I imagine he lived in a very colourful world – not black and white.
I think there is a huge difference between on one hand, having idealistic morals but being realistic in dealing with real people (sinners); and on the other hand, having realistic morals that allow you to feel (dishonestly) that fulfilment of your obligations is within your grasp. It’s a completely different kind of realism. And I love Jesus’ realism. I love the fact that there is honesty about what real true goodness is and is not, while at the same time, people who fall short of it are not doomed but are loved despite their failings. It’s a truly astonishing balance.
Forbidding oneself from lawful things
As promised, I start off with a…
WARNING: THIS POST CONTAINS VERY STRONG CRITICISM OF MUHAMMAD AND THE QURAN
Surah 66 “At-Tahrim” (1) O PROPHET! Why dost thou, out of a desire to please [one or another of] thy wives, impose [on thyself] a prohibition of something that God has made lawful to thee? But God is much-forgiving, a dispenser of grace: (2) God has already enjoined upon you [O believers] the breaking and expiation of [such of] your oaths [as may run counter to what is right and just]: for, God is your Lord Supreme, and He alone is all-knowing, truly wise.
I don’t believe swearing off honey would be a serious enough thing to warrant these verses.
Moreover, I think the criticism is a red herring, deflecting attention from the real wrongdoing here, which by some accounts had everything to do with sexual passions and nothing to do with honey. It is actually very clever – have a verse criticise you for something extremely minor, and people might overlook the bigger wrong. And how do I know it was a wrongdoing (aside from my own personal opinion about it)? – a person only swears off something (or someone) if they feel guilty about it.
And just what is so wrong with forbidding yourself something that is lawful? Does that mean we can’t go on diets, or give up coffee?
Or was the pleasing of one’s wife (by imposing restrictions on oneself) the thing that is being criticised here? So men who are inclined to think twice about taking a second wife for the sake of keeping the first wife happy, for example, should snap out of that and just take what’s lawful to them?
Pffft.
Doing a 180
Sorry I’ve been so melodramatic lately. I’m now going to make myself look even more daft by doing a 180. Running away from my own blog was cowardly, and not wanting to “hurt” others (who probably mostly weren’t in the least bit hurt by my opinions) was a big fat excuse.
I write to work through my thoughts and record them, and I want to be able to look back in the future and see what I was really thinking. Not what I thought would be acceptable to readers who might not even still be around by then.
The problem is my own fear: I need to learn to be more comfortable saying things that I know others will disagree with. Arguments and criticism can be something useful, not something to avoid. And people’s disagreement doesn’t have to result in them not liking me any more.
So I’m going to go right back to writing primarily for myself. I will try to be a good and respectful person to hopefully minimise any personal offense I cause. I will endeavour to flag up in advance when a post is dealing with a topic that some may not want to read about. Other than that, it is going to be my uncensored personal truth.
Being less personal is still a good idea, though. Opening up about personal struggles – there’s a time and a place. Writing to work through them – I can do that in private. I’d rather keep a bit of mystery in public and not feel I have to explain myself all the time. Did I really need to announce to the world that I’d rejected Islam, or could it have come out more organically? Did I need to confess to behaving contrarily – arguing with some people about Islam and at the same time suggesting Islam could be the right path for some people – or does it not really matter if anyone thinks I’m two-faced?
Why am I so afraid of receiving criticism that I will criticise myself publicly in advance of that, as if to improve my image by showing that at least I’m aware of my flaws, when in fact people may not even have seen those flaws? By periodically airing my own dirty laundry in public, am I inviting respect; or am I inviting people who have already taken issue with me to jump on me, and making others probably think less of me? With the result that I feel I must be a horrible person just because I’ve been more honest about my inner struggles? And at the same time, knowing that I’m not a horrible person and feeling pissed off at being jumped on, even though I caused it by pointing out my failings in the first place? The reality is: I’m not perfect, I have my issues, but I’m not horrible either. And it’s not like anyone else is perfect. It’s all well and good being “humble” and being “real”, but to dwell on the negative at the expense of your more positive traits is to do yourself a disservice. So no more of that. I will be what I am, warts and all, without having to constantly dissect and deconstruct myself.
And in saying all that, I’ve already broken the rule about not being so personal. Oh well.
Taking a step back
For me, writing is something I’ve always done – it’s cathartic, it makes me feel free and powerful. And it helps me work my thoughts out.
The trouble is, a blog basically combines that with a discussion forum. The two don’t mix. I have finally realised this is the problem that has been rumbling on here for the past two months.
Part of me thinks, well, why should I care if I upset or unnerve people – people can just not read it if they don’t like it. But some of my readers have been so supportive even though they must have detested some of what I said, and it’s that experience of support that humbles me to the point where I just can’t do this any more. Not in the same way.
The other thing is that I tend to be very personal in some posts and I have had some very personal discussions on other blogs, and sometimes I regret it. There is the password-protect thing, but even that has left me cold. How well do I really know my readers? Do any of us really care, are these real friendships or am I kidding myself? I don’t want to know the answer to that question. Let’s just say the personal and password posts are gone and I’m not blogging for friendship any more. If friendship takes off (and it really does sometimes), great, but I’m not assuming we are all looking for something deep here.
I will continue to write freely because I need that, but I’ll do it privately. This blog is not going to be a direct outlet for my thoughts any more. I’ll continue to post, but only things that I actually want to share with the readers I know about and care about. Possibly that will improve the quality at the expense of quantity. I think it’s a win-win.
I’ve appreciated all the input so much and hope that can continue… which is why I’m not shutting down…. just taking a step back.
Delusions: good, bad and ugly?
There is nothing else in life that can be compared to religion in terms of how deeply people get into it and also how subjective it is. People can’t change their minds about religion overnight. Belief is very robust. And different people can be equally deeply convinced about very different things. It’s very interesting.
In that sense, religion also seems to be very divisive. When you are so deeply into a religion that you are utterly convinced by it (and I think it is that way round), everyone else looks completely misguided, if not stupid. I can look at the Hindus in the village where little Lakshmi was born with a parasitic twin – giving her the appearance of 4 arms and 4 legs – who believe in all seriousness that she is a goddess… and I can easily think, how daft. But such is the power of our religious beliefs. They think the doctors who carried out the surgery to save her life were in the wrong. It’s all a matter of perspective. I am trying really hard not to conclude that the best or only real perspective is the materialistic one. But sometimes I feel like I’m losing at that.
One big factor in Ghazali’s religious angst was fear of hell. He was worried that he would face hell if he couldn’t recover his faith. This is something that has plagued me at times, too. But now, I really feel that I’ve liberated myself from it and that is probably why I don’t fear losing all faith any more. The idea of eternal torment as punishment for finite sins is completely unjust, and the idea that correct beliefs are required to avoid this means that life is a lottery – you will be saved if the influences on your life allow you to arrive at those beliefs. Either it is a lottery, or “God guides whom He wills” – i.e. God has favourites.
Even if our condition in the afterlife depends only on our actions in this life and not on our beliefs, it seems to me that we don’t all have the same propensity to sin or to do good. Either from birth or by conditioning, some people have an inclination to be psychopathic, or abuse children, while other people would never do those things. Maybe we could say God takes all these differences into account when judging people. But there is still the question of whether eternal punishment is ever just.
Maybe it’s true… maybe God isn’t just, or fair. Why should I assume that we can project human values onto God? But if that is the case then it would seem there’s nothing I can do to be sure I’ve secured my afterlife, since any notions I might naturally have about what I deserve can be thrown out the window. Given how man-made all religions seem to be, and how subjective the process of arriving at belief is, I can’t take it seriously any more. It seems like just another tale told to frighten children into obedience. And while I can’t rule out that it is true, I also can’t rule out that I am going to spontaneously combust in the next five minutes. Neither of these are at all rational to worry about.
There are alternative ideas within Christianity: the idea that punishment is temporary and redeeming; the idea that punishment is simply destruction and ceasing to exist. The former is actually the one I like the most because I like happy endings and I also like the idea of people getting what they deserve. But who knows? NO-ONE DOES.
I wrote this elsewhere and wanted to record it here too: At this point I am less certain about God than I have ever been. But life itself has shown me goodness, and that goodness is what I still call “God”. Learning to love goodness is what I call “redemption”. And uncertainty has paradoxically brought more clarity. What I see more than anything is that religion can tie me in knots, and make me lose sight of the fact that goodness pervades everything and that all I need to do is look for it.
I have no idea if I will continue to believe in a reality called God in a literal way. And I’m pretty sure believing in a mythological way is impossible (although I will read Aslan’s book before I decide, as I really don’t understand the concept yet). But my experience of goodness is something I fear will disappear if it is eventually “explained away”. I fear life could not be meaningful or truly good without belief in God. I will have to think about that.
I think it’s being able to reflect on the experience of consciousness that gives rise to all this existentialism. Asking these questions is wired into us. I don’t think it’s just over-active imagination, although that is part of it. This doesn’t mean any of our ideas about God are true… but it might mean we can’t live fulfilling lives without them. I worry that we are too intelligent for our own good; that we have the ability to see our delusions for what they are, even though that insight causes us to malfunction. I don’t know that any of that is the case, but it worries me that it might be.
It might just be that it is neither rational nor irrational to believe in a deeper reality. Any ultimate explanation of reality is probably inherently subjective because we can only see reality through the lens of our own consciousness.
“What you are”
I just thought I’d share this with you, from Jewel’s blog. I hope you find it as inspiring as I did.
I had an art teacher my junior and senior years at Interlochen; she was my sculpture teacher. One day she set a raw piece of marble down in front of each of us and asked us what we saw. I saw nothing. I saw an impossible task. I saw a responsibility that was awesome- how could I find what it should be? How could I impose a shape on something so elemental? That’s when Gene (that was my teacher’s name) told me about the great sculptors and their opinion that what that stone should be was already there, existing perfectly. It wasn’t my job to create the sculpture; it was just my job to chip away everything that covered it up. That was a matter of perspective- combine that with perseverance, and you have something taking shape.
That image has stuck with me, and lately I have been applying it to myself. I’m the stone I’ve been wrestling with- trying, prying chipping, forcing, even beating a shape out of. But what if the perfect us is already existing inside ourselves? What if we could relax and just know that? We don’t have to try so hard. We don’t have to force it to happen. We can just trust and LET it happen. That’s the perspective shift- the perseverance is being diligent by removing everything that isn’t truly you. Get rid of the anxiety. Get rid of the people who make you feel bad about your self. Surround yourself in people who see you for your best you, and help bring it out. Have the strength of character to stop complaining about a task or work, or else do something to change it. MAYBE WE DON’T HAVE TO TRY SO HARD TO BE SOMETHING WE DON’T THINK WE ARE, BUT TRY HARDER TO STOP BEING WHAT WE ARE NOT.
… There is an undeniable light in each of us that expresses itself in a way that is so unique that no one else has it. That light makes you special, and only you can find out what it is, what it wants to say, and what it has to offer the world. …
I see men and women who are worried they aren’t strong enough to face a hardship in their lives. But we are born that strong- a rock doesn’t have to be taught how to hold its ground, and birds just know how to fly. We were born perfect with everything we need. Even if we didn’t get enough love as kids, even if we are scarred by years of hurt- we can still peel all that away to reclaim the nature of our natural state. We are enough. You don’t have to try to be bright, or try to be brave, you already are what you are. Light just knows how to fill a room, and so do you.
When you feel small and unsure, stop and ask yourself what the right thing is. I promise you already know.
The meaning of religion
All religions have much in common. Common ideas about God that have evolved over time. Common ideas about morality. What amazes me is that people are pretty much the same, no matter the religion. It’s as if there is a robust core of human ideas and practices that have a different – but fairly arbitrary – label slapped on it by each different group.
I mean, if you were to take each religion literally and fundamentally, there would actually be quite a few differences. In a literal interpretation, Christianity forbids divorce and self-defense and contraception (Catholic anyway), but many people who follow Christianity do these things anyway. In a literal interpretation, Islam allows concubinage and wife-discipline, but most Muslims do not practice these things and do not even know about them, actually.
To me that is actually reassuring. Of course, the hardcore literalists in any religion are often the “dangerous” ones. But they are a minority. Most just get on with what they know, and what they know is not informed by religion to a very large degree.
This is essentially why I feel all paths are good. Because they are all human, and while humans can be cruel and selfish and immoral, they can also be beautiful and resilient and kind and live lives of meaning and hope. And the specifics of religion don’t look to me as if they have a lot to do with it.
I wrestle with religion; I learn about its principles and its historical origins and I define it in those terms, and then I imagine it applied fundamentally in a widespread fashion and I ask myself if that would make for a good world. I look at the claims of prophets and I examine what they bring and ask myself if it is what they claim it to be or not. Because for me, this has to be done before I know if I can say “Muhammad rasool Allah” (for example). But what this says about me is that I am participating in the minority who are literalists!
I am ignoring for myself the mythological interpretation of religion that Reza Aslan describes in the excerpt quoted by LK here; the interpretation that allows you to make of religion whatever it is to you. Because I don’t see myself doing religion like driving a car. I imagine it will drive me and so I want to be sure of where it is going and how it was built.
However, when it comes to other people, I’ve always respected these different paths… I’ve always been far more sure that other people are on a good path for themselves than I have been about whether that path would be good for me. Odd, isn’t it? And it’s because of most people’s non-literalist approach. That’s why I see it as perfectly adequate.
And to be honest, I wonder if that’s the only approach that will ever work for a thinking person. I fear – yes, fear is still there – that fundamentalism never stands up to reason. A mythological, non-literal approach might be the only one that will save my faith.
So my question is, is it worth me doing that? Can I even do it?
The first cry of “objection!” from my devil’s-advocate mind is due to how much of a hypocrite I would feel. How can I bring myself to say “Muhammad rasool Allah” or “Christ is my saviour” unless I am really convinced of that? I would rather call a spade a spade and say instead that I understand religion mythologically. But no-one says that… even though they do understand it mythologically. I can’t cope with that. I would never dare call anyone else a hypocrite, but I would certainly call myself one.
Secondly, I just think, why do I even need religion. Seriously. I cannot allow religion to dictate my morality because that is brainwashing. So if I’m going to do my own moral reasoning anyway, why even bother with religion? What’s really in it for me?
Thirdly, I am tired of feeling like a fool among scientists for believing in God and I am tired of being despised by religious folk for being a scientist. I finally watched Avatar today and the Na’Vi’s god Eywa is actually biologically measurable! Wouldn’t that be so much better?
And yet, and yet… I have this fascination with religion; it seems to be a preoccupation of the human race, in fact. In a way I have made no changes since I started this blog. I am still sitting here saying I can’t let go of God.
This year’s celebrity Big Brother had an American born-again Christian in it who has just been evicted by our religion-hating British public, but during his stay, he would read out the Bible and talk about religion to his housemates. Early on, one housemate showed openness to what he was saying and even prayed a salvation prayer under his guidance. Just now, while I’ve been typing this blog post, another housemate welled up in the diary room talking about how she would miss the Bible if that guy was evicted. She is a stiff-upper-lip English lady, describing a feeling of being hit in the solar plexus while thinking about the Bible and welling up. Twice. Then she spent some of the day singing with others, and confessed to the religious housemate that it was all totally out of character for her. He said “praise God” and she said, “praise God”.
Who can say that is not a real experience? Who can say it has no value? Who can say life is every bit as meaningful without the presence of religion, however fleeting or continuous that presence may be? I don’t think I can.
I want to know what meaning it can have for me.
Gospels
I’m currently reading “The Historical Figure of Jesus” by prominent New Testament scholar E. P. Sanders. I am loving it! The first 7 chapters have all been introductory, so I am only now about to get into learning about the historical Jesus. This is a reflection of how thoroughly transparent the book is about its sources and their issues, and the methodology. It is brilliantly well-written and a pleasure to read because of how clear it is.
Here are some interesting things I learnt about the gospels, from chapter 6.
- Gospel material started out as oral traditions pretty much like hadiths – very small stories called “pericopes”. They were not used to tell the biography of Jesus, but to make various points to various people – so the stories were all removed from their original context.
- After some decades (probably in years 70-90), the gospels were written from these small stories. There may have been stages in-between the “isolated sayings” stage and the full gospels, such as collections of sayings grouped by topic.
- Expressions such as “at that time…” and “then…” and “immediately…” were used to string the stories together in the synoptic gospels. These are narrative devices and do not represent true knowledge of the order in which events occurred (this even differs from one gospel to another). Beacuse they are constructed from pericopes, the gospels are “stark” and do not read like biographies.
- New material crept in – particularly into John’s gospel – because the lines got blurred between the historical Jesus and the spiritual Jesus that the believers experienced as speaking to them through prayer. “John represents an advanced theological development, in which meditations on the person and work of Christ are presented in the first person, as if Jesus said them. The author of the Gospel of John would be the first to point out that this does not mean the discourses that he attributed to Jesus are ‘untrue’; he would not have agreed that historical accuracy and truth are synonymous…”
- The gospels were written anonymously: names were not attributed to them in any literature until the year 180. Author names were assigned at that point through detective work on the texts, which was “shrewd” but ultimately the identity of the real authors is uncertain.
- The apocryphal gospels – those that didn’t make it into the New Testament – probably contain very very little authentic material. (That’s a relief – I won’t bother reading them all!) Only the infancy gospel of James and the gospel of Thomas were written early and contain interesting material. The rest is pretty much just legends. The four canonical gospels also contain some legendary elements, but they are the main sources for historical truth.
Much of this was deduced through textual “detective work”. I find that quite fascinating. I must admit it would be interesting to see scholars analyse the Quran in this way. My impression when reading it was that it was constructed in part from something like these pericopes – historical oral traditions, such as Lot leaving Sodom and Gomorrah – there are even several versions of that story in the Quran with slight variations; for example sometimes it says Lot’s wife was left behind, sometimes it says an old woman was left behind. It’s not a contradiction but it does seem like it came from two different traditional accounts.
It’s interesting as well to realise that the gospels are more like hadith collections than a “divine writ given to Jesus”. Knowing that that’s how they are constructed, somehow answers questions I never knew I had… to me, the gospels never read as if someone had sat down to write the story of Jesus’ life, but I didn’t know why until now. Amazing!
Rules and authority (after hadiths poll)
I felt I should say something following the poll I made a few posts ago on hadiths, and why they add to the Quran’s instructions. Thank you to everyone who answered, it was very interesting to survey people’s opinions. The poll is open indefinitely, so if you haven’t already answered, feel free to!
The most popular answer at this point is that God was considered to be revealing things to Muhammad besides what is in the Quran. This is not really a surprise, since mainstream Islam and shariah law is based on this premise. But all around the blogosphere, I see people saying that the Quran is the word of God and hadiths are the word of man and the two cannot be compared. I have said this myself.
I just thought it was interesting that so many of us seem to naturally assume that the Quran would have more weight, when in fact this is not really the mainstream position, and it seems likely that it was not the original belief of the early Muslims either – they probably accepted divine commands from the mouth of Muhammad. The idea of divine scripture being central to everything, like a “life manual”, is basically the Protestant attitude to the Bible, and I wonder if this has pervaded our consciousness in western culture and caused us to see the Quran this way.
Of course there are more issues about authenticity when it comes to hadiths, as compared to the Quran. And the Quran was certainly treated differently than the sayings of Muhammad. But how was it viewed by the early Muslims? Was it used the same way Protestants use the Bible – as a life manual; or was it a much more mystical entity, recited in prayer and revered as a part of the mystery of God? Where did actually they take their authority from on matters of ritual, law, behaviour…? These are questions I think need to be asked rather than taking the liberty of making assumptions.
Unless, of course, history doesn’t matter and we divorce ourselves completely from the origins of our religions, choosing to let our religion be whatever it has evolved to become over the centuries (which may well be an improvement). Nothing wrong with that AT ALL as long as we are clear we are not following a “universal” religion in its original form.
