The Questioning Christian

Category: Jesus

  • An interesting speculation about the Resurrection

    Here's a comment from a reader, who prefers to remain anonymous but who has approved my posting this.  Boldfaced emphasis is mine, and I've added some extra paragraphing.

    I came across your Blog this weekend and find it very refreshing and informative. You have addressed many of my doubts and concerns about the mainstream Church's doctrine that I have been either too afraid, or insufficiently knowledgeable to answer on my own. For this I am indebted to you.

    Today I was reading through your essays on the Resurrection – an event which I have never been able to accept as being literally true, based solely on my gut feeling that 'if it doesn't make sense, it probably didn't happen'.

    Your alternate explanations have resonated with what I was unable to clearly formulate on my own, the feeling that it just didn't fly. (Sidebar: I'm not an attorney but I have spent most of the past 40 years in the field of video surveillance and intelligence gathering. One develops a sort of Jedi ability to separate fact from fiction)

    I wonder if you have considered a third possible explanation of the Resurrection story? That is, that when Jesus was removed from the cross he was actually still alive. Barely, of course, and in critical condition, but to all outward appearances (and given the level of medical knowledge available at the time) he was thought to be deceased.

    Figuring this option into your description of Joseph of Arimathea removing Jesus from the tomb, perhaps he, Joseph, discovered Jesus to be still alive and took him to a secret location where he could receive some healing and be safe from discovery. Maybe through God's intervention he recovered – and this would account for subsequent 'appearances' to his followers after a period of time. Obviously he would know that it would be unwise to stick around, and would have made his escape into obscurity.

    Am I right in thinking he remained on the Cross for only a few hours, due mainly to the approaching Sabbath, and could conceivable have survived? And the fact that Joseph whisked him away so quickly may also have been because he felt there was a chance Jesus wasn't dead? 

    My response, slightly edited:

    Thanks for reaching out, [NAME].  Nearly all of your conjecture about Jesus' being taken off the cross barely alive and then "escaping into obscurity," as you put it, is certainly more plausible than either (i) the conventional orthodox narrative, or (ii) Hugh Schonfield's The Passover Plot, which always struck me as far-fetched. 
     
    I'm intrigued by your idea that a recovered Jesus, after the scare of his near-death experience, might well have changed his mind about trying to overthrow Israel's oppressors and usher in God's reign.  In that scenario, though, we'd still have to account for Jesus' brother James' being part of the early church; this would presuppose that Jesus didn't simply go back to his old life in Nazareth, but instead abandoned his family and effectively disappeared.  That makes me lean more toward the notion that Jesus simply died and was secretly buried.
     
    Sadly, we're not likely ever to know the truth (unless Benjamin Franklin was correct).

  • Suggested reading: Bibles and other religion books

    A reader sent me an email this week, excerpted below:

    … Today, I happily stumbled upon your blog via a web search regarding the possibility of being Christian while not believing in the divinity of Jesus. I have spent the past hour or so looking over your previous posts, and I am finding them most helpful in my current faith journey.

    I particularly value your definition of faith as: (i) accepting that a Creator exists and (ii) trusting that, in the end, all will be well. This resonates deeply with me.

    … I realize you have not posted much lately, but I hope you can assist me. Could you please recommend: 1) books that reflect your views on Christianity and faith, and 2) a good English translation of the Bible?

    (Extra paragraphing added.)
     
    Many thanks to that reader, whose email inspired me to put together the following lists.
     
    (The links below are not "affiliate" links, incidentally.)
     

    Bible

    I normally quote from the New International Version, for two reasons: (1) It's fairly readable, and (2) it's a favorite of evangelicals and conservatives — if I quoted from a more-"liberal" translation, that might give those folks an excuse to discount or ignore the point I'm trying to make. 
     
    My own personal favorite Bible is the New Revised Standard Version, especially the HarperCollins Study Bible, which has lots of footnotes and annotations. 
     
    I've found useful the NKJV Greek-English Interlinear New Testament. ("NKJV" stands for New King James Version.)

    Books

    The following list of books is in no particular order, from scanning across my bookshelves:
    I've omitted some writers whose works I found valuable but that I regard as less accessible, such as:
    • John Dominic Crossan, a scholar and former Catholic priest
    • Paula Frederiksen, a Boston University professor
    • John Polkinghorne, a renowned Cambridge University particle physicist turned Anglican priest, but some of whose science-based arguments I find less than convincing
    • A. N. Wilson
    • Paul Johnson
    I've also omitted writers whom I regard as assuming too many facts not in evidence or being insufficiently skeptical, such as N.T. Wright (conservative) and Marcus Borg (liberal).
     
    Finally, I've omitted various translations of primary sources.
     
     
     
     

     

  • Jim Jones’s lover thought he was God

    From a NY Times on-line piece about Jim Jones, who led some 900 followers to their deaths by cyanide suicide in Jonestown, Guyana:

    Ms. O’Shea joined the Peoples Temple as a secretary in 1971, when she was 19. She said she eventually became Mr. Jones’s confidante and lover; “I thought he was God,” she said. “I thought God had picked me to be a mate.”

  • Can disbelief be reconciled with worship?

    Last week a reader sent me a Facebook message expressing hope that I hadn’t discontinued this blog, saying, “Goyim for God, indeed!” I take the liberty of quoting from [his or her] reply to my response:

    … I’m a lifelong [denomination member] recently transplanted to a small [location] town where my only church option is St. [XX] Episcopal ….

    But talk about culture shock! Worship is a constant barrage of words that I either don’t believe or that offend me (it will take some time), and I’m struggling with Book of Common Prayer on the one hand and the apparent absence of any normative common wisdom on the other. I say the first line of the Nicene Creed and am then silent. [Me too – DCT.] … Yet the people are dear, the rector–rather conservative theologically–is masterful at pastoring, and I am chipping away at a niche for myself. Still longing for the Goyim for God!

    … I am deeply concerned about the future of Christianity if all the laity sees is fundamentalism, megachurch me-ism, or 4th century theology. Where is panentheism in the pulpits? Where is there talk of process–or of anything other than Jesus as the biological son of God? We’re doing a decent job of whaling away at social issues, but what about theology? What can a layperson do (other than write a highly articulate blog)? I gather you have found a way to be comfortable with worship. How do you do that?

    Truth to tell, I’ve grown increasingly uncomfortable with traditional Christian corporate worship. Except when I have blood-drive duty every eight weeks, I haven’t been to church at our parish in over a year.  (My ever-supportive wife and I visited a couple of other nearby parishes, but she decided she didn’t want to switch, for reasons I completely understand. So now she goes alone, and I’m not sufficiently motivated to become a regular at another parish on my own.)

    Why have I stopped going to church? Because over the past 10 years or so, our parish has become far too Jesus-centered for comfort. As junior clergy have moved on, they’ve been replaced by evangelicals; all of our parish’s recent calls have been products of Nashotah House or Trinity School for Ministry, two bastions of orthodox ideology. The sermons, the hymns, the Sunday school lessons all seemed to focus mainly on Jesus as (supposedly) God become man, who defeated once and for all the sin of the world and who would soon return in triumph — all of which are notions that, in my humble judgment, simply cannot be reconciled with the evidence of what God actually wrought in this world, as opposed to what some people imagine he did.

    I remain convinced that belief in a Creator of some kind is eminently defensible, and that the Summary of the Law — paraphrased slightly — is the key to a happy life.  I admire and respect Jesus for his commitment to both, even at the cost of his life. I still love and respect my friends at our parish, many of whom have said they miss me on Sundays. I can’t rule out that it’s I, not they, who is totally missing the point (but I don’t think that’s the case). 

    Still, I squirm when preachers and laity act as though there’s no room in the church for any point of view that doesn’t square with what I can only judge to be sheer speculation. In the end, that’s what caused me to stay away from church, at least at our parish.

    I’ve toyed with the idea of asking some of my like-minded parishioner friends if they’d be interested in starting a Goyim for God study group that meets somewhere for Morning- or Evening Prayer (minus the Gloria Patri and the Phos Hilaron) and Sunday brunch or dinner, either in lieu of or in addition to the Sunday service at church. Maybe someday we can give that a shot and see how it might work.

  • I wonder whether Jesus really meant for our Eucharists to focus on his body and blood as such

    I was intrigued by this passage from “Kitchen Communion – From the food pantry to the table,” by Sara Miles, in The Christian Century, Feb. 9, 2010, p. 24, at 29:

    [After the benefit dinner, we] celebrated Eucharist at midnight in the middle of the [restaurant] dining room …. My feet hurt more than they had in 20 years, and my shirt was slippery with grease.

    The waiters and dishwasher came out, curious, as I handed Paul [the parish rector] a loaf of French bread. He held it up, saying the ancient Hebrew prayer. “Blessed be God, ruler of the universe, who brings forth grain from the earth,” he chanted.

    “Now we share the bread with each other,” Paul instructed. He was still wearing the kerchief [to cover his hair while cooking] and his face was shining. “It’s Jesus’ table, so the bread is for everybody.”

    * * *

    I remember how Deb had told me she didn’t think communion was a good idea. “It’s not gonna fly,” she said. “At the end of a shift everyone just leaves as fast as they can or maybe goes out to get drunk. But nobody wants to hang out in the restaurant.”

    We passed the bread around, then a plastic glass of wine. … I was a little embarrassed and unbelievably happy. …

    (Emphasis and extra paragraphing added.)

    I was struck by the priest’s omission of the traditional words of consecration, “this is my body” and “this is the cup of my blood.”

    Instead, he said the traditional Hebrew blessing of the bread — quite possibly using the English counterpart of the very words Jesus himself might have spoken at the Last Supper.

    I wondered: How necessary were the body-and-blood words of consecration, really?

    So I re-read the ancient accounts of the institution of the Eucharist.

    • Mark 14, Matthew 26, and Luke 22 all give the impression that Jesus used the bread and wine primarily as stage props, a teaching aid, a visual metaphor to emphasize what he expected was in store for him — which would be followed by the coming of the kingdom of God.
    • Of the four gospels, only Luke quotes Jesus as instructing his followers that they should “do this in remembrance of me”; Paul’s earlier account in 1 Cor. 11, based on church tradition, does likewise.
    • The Fourth Gospel, of course, doesn’t mention the institution of the Eucharist at all.
    • Apart from the canonical New Testament documents, chapter 9 of the Didache makes no mention of Jesus’ body or blood; its emphasis is on thanking God. It twice mentions Jesus simply as God’s servant, not as a son of God, much less as God incarnate. (The Didache was an instructional text, thought to have been written by Jewish Christians, sometime near the late first century, for their gentile brethren.)

    This makes me think we need to read the command, “do this in remembrance of me,” in context with the rest of what Jesus reportedly said on that occasion.

    The command appears to be a direction for a simple ritual that will help Jesus’ followers stay focused — not so much on Jesus himself, nor even on his death, but on his imminent return and the coming of the kingdom — so that his followers won’t lose heart during the times of trouble.

    Hmm.

     

  • Sleep-deprived hallucinations and the Resurrection

    I’ve been monitoring a heated discussion at TitusOneNine about exhausted New Orleans doctors and nurses supposedly engaging in mercy-killing in the chaos after Hurricane Katrina. Commenter “Clueless,” apparently a physician, noted that after about 72 hours without sleep, people start to have “fairly fixed hallucinations (which are micro intrusions of REM sleep into wakefulness).” 

    Hmm — I wonder if that might provide an explanation for the Resurrection appearances after Jesus’ death.

    • We know from the Gospel accounts that Jesus’ disciples were already craving sleep on the night before his crucifixion:  They were nodding off in Gethsemane while Jesus was praying for the cup to be removed from him (Mk 14.37-42).  We don’t know why that was; they might have not gotten much sleep on the previous night (Wednesday), or perhaps they had too much wine at the Last Supper, which of course was a Passover dinner.
    • After the jarring events of Jesus’ capture that night, it’s hard to imagine the disciples got much sleep the rest of the night — especially Peter, who is recorded as having followed at a distance to the court of the high priest (Mk 14.54).
    • It may be that the disciples didn’t sleep much after Jesus’ execution.  Sleeplessness is apparently a very common reaction after the unexpected death of a loved one (I’ve seen that in my own family).  It seems plausible that the disciples, certainly shocked and grief-stricken, and quite likely terrified for their own lives, had trouble sleeping on the Friday- and Saturday night after the crucifixion.

    Christian scholars have long dismissively rejected conjectures that the post-Resurrection Jesus sightings were hallucinations, often on grounds that too many people supposedly saw Jesus for that to have been the explanation.

    Still, it doesn’t seem unreasonable to imagine that by Sunday morning, the disciples were starting to experience the effects of sleep deprivation, including hallucinations.

    And then the stories of Jesus’ “appearances” mutated and became distorted in the retelling, as stories so often do.

  • The Resurrection was probably a misunderstanding, but even so we have ample reason to celebrate Easter

    Each of us has to make a bet on whether the Resurrection actually happened the way the church claims, as celebrated by billions this morning. What we’re betting is our lives, and the way we live them.

    In essence, the church asks us to go “all in” on the proposition that Jesus was actually raised bodily from the dead. That bet has always been way too rich for my blood; I think there are more plausible explanations for the fact that Jesus’ followers found ‘his’ tomb to be empty on the morning after the Sabbath, and that later on some of those followers decided that they had encountered him — as recorded in questionable stories written down decades later in a different language.

    Nor is it persuasive, at least to me, that some of Jesus’ friends and their later colleagues, by no means all of them, claimed —

    In my judgment — and ultimately each of us has to make our own judgment about this bet — these claims are grounded, at best, in a misunderstanding that took on a life of its own; and at worst, in wishful thinking aggravated by a you’re-either-with-us-or-against-us obstinacy.

    But that’s not the end of the inquiry. The Resurrection misunderstanding catalyzed both a belief system and a social organization. For nearly two millennia, that belief system and that organization have provided inspiration and assistance to billions of people in helping with the continuing creation of the universe. 

    Not all of that assistance and inspiration have been positive by any means. But we do seem to do our best work in that area when we try to follow the Summary of the Law that was at the heart of Jesus’ teaching.  The Summary’s simple rules of thumb seem to capture something fundamental about the universe. Their utility gives us plenty of reason to try to follow Jesus simply because of what he taught, and because of his extreme faithfulness to what he saw as his call from the Creator.

    (Although extreme faithfulness is not necessarily a good thing always, as seen in the example provided by Muslim suicide bombers.)

    if we were so inclined, we could conjecture that somehow, directly or indirectly, the hand of God might have been at work back then — just not quite in the exact way the church claims.

    So while, in all likelihood, the Resurrection didn’t happen the way the church says, that doesn’t mean we should belittle the Resurrection claim as false.

    Instead, we should commemorate what likely did happen on that first Easter and in its aftermath. We can celebrate, with gratitude but also with open eyes, the immeasurable (if not unalloyed) good that has evolved from it.

    * * *

    This essay was inspired by a sermon posted by the Rev. Michael Hopkins on his blog (hat tip: Susan Russell).

  • Response to a commenter about Jesus, God, etc.

    Commenter “schari” raised some points that had enough meat in them that I thought I’d respond in a separate posting.

    Thanks for the response, @schari. Unfortunately we’re going to have to agree to disagree about some fundamental points.

    The inherent riskiness of revelation

    @schari writes:

    I can’t help but notice your greater concern is more about what people think or perceive as apposed to what GOD or JESUS said & is the truth. That should settle it. Christianity is not a democracy, and truth is not subjective but objective. May you have a revelation of the love of Christ, that God came in the flesh to set you free to perfect relationship with Him. …

    When people claim that we can distinguish between “what people think or perceive as apposed [sic] to what GOD or JESUS said & is the truth,” they risk wallowing in wishful thinking — which is a form of idolatry that violates the First Commandment. That’s because, given that people aren’t God, it’s impossible to separate what God or Jesus might have said, on the one hand, from what people think or perceive they said.

    Even assuming, as you and I both do, that there is such as thing as objective truth, it seems inescapable that every single person — bar none — perceives it through the distorting lenses of his or her own biases, experiences, and physical- and intellectual limitations.

    Moreover, when someone claims that God said X or that Jesus said Y, my immediate response is Favorite Theological Question # 1: And how, exactly, do you know that?

    (See also my recent post, Too bad there was no Twitter in 33 AD.)

    Still another favorite theological question is: Why should I accept Christian ‘revelation’ on this issue, as opposed to that of the Jews, or the Muslims, or the Hindus, or the Buddhists, or even the atheists? What privileges the intuition of Christians about how things are, to exalt them over the intuitions of other people? It’s not as though Christians can demonstrate that their intuitions are a better fit with reality in ways not shared by any other belief system.

    Christianity wasn’t supposed to be a new religion

    @schari writes: “Christianity has ONE focul [sic] point. JESUS.”

    I see it differently. As I read the New Testament and the writings of the early church, it seems clear to me that Jesus wanted our focal point to be God. I think he would have been horrified to learn that his later followers had begun focusing on him, and had started worshiping him as though he were God.

    (See also my posting from a few years ago, The Apostles’ Teaching Didn’t Seem to Include a Divine Jesus.)

    Jesus-worshipers don’t own the name “Christian”

    @schari writes: “Take the CHRIST out of christianity and u have insanity. Otherwise look for a another name for your religion to express your views.”

    Um, check your spelling on that. Seriously, though, the New Testament writings make it clear that Christianity was not supposed to be a new religion: it was supposed to be God-worship for all, not just for Jews.

    (See my recent posting Goyim for God: A reformed Judaism, open to gentiles, like Paul wanted in the first place.)

    Orthodox- and evangelical Christians are certainly entitled to their opinions about Jesus. But they’re not entitled to claim the name Christian exclusively for themselves, any more than Rush Limbaugh or Al Franken can reserve the term “American” exclusively for people who agree with them.

    “But,” you might say, “the term ‘Christian’ is based on ‘Christ,’ which implicitly refers to God Incarnate.” No: The Greek word christos, used in the New Testament, corresponding to maschiach or messiah in Hebrew, means simply “anointed one,” someone tapped by God to carry out a particular mission. Cyrus of Persia is referred to in the OT as a maschiach.

    (You yourself are probably a christos — see Are You a “Christ”? Quite Possibly.)

    In order to emulate and follow Jesus, one doesn’t need to believe he was THE Christ, nor that he was God Incarnate; his followers who actually knew him in life didn’t seem to.

    (See also What Did “Messiah” Mean to the Apostles?)

    —————-

    @schari, I do appreciate your having taken the time to comment, and wish you all the best.

  • Goyim for God: A reformed Judaism, open to gentiles, like Paul wanted in the first place

    A few weeks ago, the preacher at our church explained how some churches focus on God the Father, others on Jesus, and still others on the Holy Spirit. It's been impossible not to notice that in the past 10 years or so, our parish has become almost totally Jesus-centered.

    I'm not thrilled with this development. I don't claim to be a professional theologian, but my study of Scripture, informed in part by my professional training and experience, has persuaded me that Jesus likely was 'just' a good Jew and a uniquely-gifted prophet, who might or might not have aspired to rescue the Jewish people from oppression and usher in God's reign.

    A church of theists, not focused on Jesus' person, but grounded in his teachings — especially his emphasis on the Summary of the Law — might be pretty appealing. (I rule out the Unitarian Universalists here; from what I understand, the UUs are generally nice people but many of them look down their noses at theists.)

    That kind of theistic church wouldn't be nearly enough for most Christians, of course. But Christian-church membership seems to have been dropping among educated people; more and more of them simply don't buy traditional orthodox dogmas.  Where Christian churches are thriving, there's reason to believe it's not entirely due to their orthodoxy. Look at the success of the prosperity-gospel megachurches, such as Lakewood here in Houston: Every time I've heard Joel Osteen preach, he's barely even mentioned Jesus; he certainly doesn't seem to anchor his message to any kind of christological foundation.

    Church-wise, what might hit the sweet spot is some version of Reform Judaism that's open to gentiles, and that doesn't require a commitment to The Law (Torah) or 'naturalized' membership in the Jewish people; Goyim for God, if you will. 

    But hold on — a reformed Judaism for gentiles?  That sounds vaguely familiar, doesn't it? 

    Of course: it's approximately what St. Paul seems to have had in mind (go re-read, for example, his letters to the Galatians and to the Romans), before the church transformed his and Jesus' teachings into worship of the Teacher as God incarnate.

    That's what the church needs, I submit: A return to putting God first, and not getting so wrapped up in Jesus.

  • Bicycle shop for Jesus – well, maybe not quite

    Four young people came to Houston to help in the Third Ward. They set up a bicycle shop to teach inner-city youth skills and self-respect. Read about it in the Houston Chronicle.

    Seems to me that's what Jesus thought we should do — not fuss at each other about who believed what unprovable theological speculation.

    Dogmatists will reflexively condemn this view because they're terrified people might start believing in salvation by works.  So what. Those folks are like the hard-core fundamentalists of the old joke, who were vehemently against premarital sex because they were afraid it might lead to dancing ….