Will the Real Mr. Jesus Please Stand Up!
Whether Christians or not, many people who have questions about the historical Jesus can no longer accept the centuries-old objection that historical curiosity about Jesus is shallow and irrelevant, that it is only the resurrected Christ that matters.
—Jacques Baldet 24
Over the last few decades there’s been an explosion of interest in the
quest for the historical Jesus. A brief Internet search will pull up dozens of modern volumes on this project, each one from a different perspective. It’s remarkable that the Church has happily attempted to follow the one it calls the Christ for nearly two millennia yet has done so almost entirely without the company of the historical Jesus. The quest to uncover him only began about two centuries ago, and the vast majority of churchgoers since then have largely been protected from the results.
I remember attending a church service at the time when the infamous ex-Bishop of Durham, David Jenkins, told the press that there were no Magi who visited the infant Jesus near the time of that first Christmas. The vicar took a newspaper into the pulpit and allowed the congregation to see the headlines that decried this dreadful bishop. It was Midnight Mass and the preacher began what seemed like an attack on David Jenkins as he outlined what the liberal bishop had been trying to say. He spat the words out with theatrical venom, jabbing at the newspaper as he spoke. Finally he leaned over the pulpit and said in a booming voice, “Well now, let me tell you why he’s right!” He had us riveted to our seats as he unpacked the metaphorical beauty of the New Testament legends and gave us a taste of the spiritual power of mythology. To him these were never literal stories and the Bishop of Durham had given him permission to say so. He was the only vicar I knew who took that line. The rest all poured scorn on poor old David Jenkins, a bishop who’s only crime was to give the public just a little taste of what was, to anyone who’d done even a rudimentary course in basic Bible study, very old hat.
The fact is that the Church has always found the literalised Christ more important than the Jesus of history. To biblical scholars, the man who wandered the dusty roads of first-century Palestine collecting disciples and challenging religious and political superiors is contrasted with the Christ of Faith—the incarnate God in human form, whom fourth-century creeds proclaimed to be fully God and fully man. This Christ of Faith is real in the sense that he exists inside the hearts and imaginations of millions of people, but he is not real in the sense of being a historical person. The Christ of Faith was formed as the Church gradually reflected upon the earliest memories in the context of their experiences. The Christ of Faith is an interpretation! He has many treasures, but, as that Midnight Mass vicar demonstrated, they are mythological, not literal.
The two-hundred-year-old quest has been an attempt to retrieve the Jesus who resides beneath his Christian vestments. By carefully scrutinising the ancient manuscripts of the gospels and by using advanced methods of textual analysis, these scholars have peeled away the theological and metaphorical layers that they believe were added to the very earliest sources. This work has seen three major periods of activity and is still alive and well today. The first two phases gave a great deal to the scholarly world, especially in terms of a highly useful set of criteria for discerning the historical authenticity of gospel passages. The first phase ended in the early twentieth century with the publication of Albert Schweitzer’s monumental work The Quest for the Historical Jesus. His conclusions were, on the whole, rather depressing. Jesus was a Jewish radical who believed in the immanent end of the world and who taught an “interim ethic” which was, thus, only really relevant to those of his immediate cultural and historical context.
A few decades later, giant among twentieth-century New Testament experts Rudolf Bultman declared that the Jesus of History is irrelevant and that the Christ of Faith was the only importance to theology. He saw the quest as futile, which left other scholars feeling deeply unsatisfied. Ernst Kasemann and others felt that theology must be as least partially connected to this man of history, and they instinctively trusted that certain techniques could recover him, so the new quest was born. The most popular technique used within this phase was the so-called rule of discontinuity, where the scholars argued that for a man to stand out and be remembered he must have been at odds with his own culture. So they paid special attention to the texts and passages that portrayed Jesus in this light. However the resulting portrait of Jesus ended up totally detached from his Jewish roots and, consequently, sounded highly implausible, for how would someone so discontinuous and abnormal acquire such a following?
The most recent phase, the so-called third quest, while having the benefit of all the techniques and theories that went before has much else at its disposal; treasures that were not previously available. For example, the two great mid-twentieth-century discoveries of the Dead Sea Scrolls and the Nag Hammadi library have provided an astonishing amount of new insight into the Jewish culture of Jesus’s day, and have broadened the picture of early Christianity. The Dead Sea Scrolls are a collection of about nine hundred documents that include texts from the Hebrew Bible. They are written in Hebrew, Aramaic, and Greek, and are dated from 150 bce to 70 ce. While they don’t mention Jesus in person, these scrolls have given scholars a much clearer picture of the type of Judaism that would have been his religious context. The Nag Hammadi library is a collection of just over fifty early Christian codices consisting mostly of Gnostic type texts written in Coptic, though probably translated from Greek. They have given us an enlightening glimpse into how various early Christian groups viewed Jesus—some of which hugely contrasted the orthodox traditions. They also gave us such important texts as the now famous Gospel of Thomas, a collection of Jesus’s sayings a growing number of scholars regard as, in its earliest form, older than the four official Gospels of Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John.
The current quest includes scholars from right across the theological spectrum and is represented by Protestantism, Catholicism, Judaism, post-Christian thought, and the non-Theistic world. It has produced some wonderfully enticing portraits of Jesus, and, while no absolute consensus is on the horizon, there is universal agreement that the historical Jesus bears little resemblance to the early Church’s Jesus, and even less to the Jesus of later Christian centuries. The actual man who lived in the first three decades of the first century ce gradually metamorphosed into the interpreted Jesus of the last three decades (when the Gospels were written) and finally climbed up onto the throne of the Orthodox Christ the Church still worships in the creeds. So when modern Christians say, “I believe in Jesus,” it is this Christ of Faith they believe in, not the Jesus of history. Yet the current quest is now more optimistic that the pre-orthodox and pre-Easter Jesus is attainable. As one of the most widely respected modern Jesus experts, Marcus Borg, says, “Now scholars are more confident that we can, with a reasonable degree of probability, know something about the historical Jesus.”25
While this book is not the place for a long and detailed analysis of the work of the quest scholars, I will give a broad and basic overview of some of the techniques and critical methods they use. For those who wish to explore this exciting field of study in more detail, please refer to the bibliography and suggestions for further study at the back of this book.
When discussing the work of the Jesus quest, it’s important to remember that truth is never set in stone—it’s always provisional. What this two-hundred-year project has done is not given us the absolute portrait of Jesus, but a method of reading the material about him, which is a clever filtering system. The primary material is what we know as the canonical gospels: Matthew, Mark, Luke, and (to a lesser degree) John. Incidentally, we do not know the identity of the original authors; the title names were added some time after their creation. More recently, certain scholars have been using the Gospel of Thomas as a primary source. (I will say more about Thomas and the reasons for its growing popularity later.) Archaeology is an important ingredient for understanding the historical and cultural setting of Jesus, and literature from other first-century sources is helpful, though notoriously limited and difficult in matters of proving reliability.
The scholars themselves have created their own reconstructions of Jesus—each one a little different from the others—but they have also given us tools which we can use ourselves. These tools (or rules) are referred to as “the criteria of historicity,” the most central ones being the following (in a simplified form):
1. Criterion of embarrassment:
The authors of the Gospels would not have willingly invented embarrassing incidents, such as the fleeing of Jesus’s followers after his arrest26 or the baptism of Jesus by John, thus making him seem subordinate.27 Therefore such details would only have been included if they were true.
2. Criterion of dissimilarity:
Following on from the reasoning detailed above, if a saying or action seems contrary or dissimilar to the views of the Judaism of Jesus’s context or the ideals of the early Church, it can more confidently be regarded as authentic. On the other hand, if it is too similar it may have been added. For example, the notion of the Divinity of Jesus was an established belief by the latter decades of the first century, so when it comes up in the Gospels it might be a theological reflection rather than remembered history.
3. Criterion of multiple attestation:
When two or more independent sources present consistent accounts, it is more likely that they are accurate reports of events or that they are reporting a tradition which pre-dates the sources themselves.
4. Criterion of coherence or historical congruency:
A source is far less credible if the account contradicts known historical facts, or if it conflicts with cultural practices common in the period in question. It has to fit the context. In other words, a ’60s-era-type hippy with a benign message of love and peace to all would not have triggered the might of Rome into ordering an execution. Jesus really rocked the boat. His message was radical and dangerous.
Often one of the first things to be noticed when studying gospel accounts critically is that there seems to be far too many similarities between the different authors’ narratives. So many that one begins to suspect a little plagiarism. And that’s precisely the word, for plagiarism was the name of the game. It’s hard for twenty-first-century minds to comprehend, but back during the time period we’re considering, copying and elaborating other people’s work was not the taboo it is today. Indeed it was the norm. Hence, the vast majority of biblical scholars, from every theological perspective, agree on what they call “Marcan priority,” that Mark’s gospel was written first and the authors of Matthew and Luke copied it, using and adapting the material for their own. This is easy to spot when one sets out particular passages side by side in synopsis. In fact these three gospels are known as the synoptic Gospels—“seen together.” Clearly Mark was the original because his words are often adapted and made more detailed (depending on their particular bias) by the other two.28 On top of this, both Matthew and Luke clearly had at their disposal another source not known to Mark, for they contain nearly identical passages not found in Mark. This hypothetical source is known as “Q,” the word quelle being German for “source.”
A further problem is the distance of time between the event itself and the reporting of it. Jesus’s words survived many years of oral transmission before they were gathered and formed into anything like Gospels, the earliest of which was not written until 35–40 years after his death (and we possess no originals of them). Over that period there would have been much adaptation and interpretation, which would have undoubtedly added to the final portrait. This is where the useful rule of dissimilarity can help. It would be unlikely for a writer to willingly make something up—he would be challenged over it. For example, in Luke 5:33–39 Jesus is questioned over fasting and drinking. His challengers point out that John the Baptist’s disciples fast and pray whereas his eat and drink. This is quite out of character to both early Judaism and later Christianity (the former of which had strict rules in this area and the latter of which was far more aesthetic), suggesting there must be some historical truth to it.
Yet another problem to overcome is recognising author biases, and we all have them. Gospel authors were no more immune to bias than anyone else. In fact they were especially prone to it because their works were written for an explicit purpose—to convince other people to follow Jesus. But it’s not just the writers who are biased; readers are too. One of the great problems of the quest for the historical Jesus is that, more often than not, each of its “phases” seemed to end up with a portrait of Jesus that looked very similar to the particular culture and perspectives of the scholars concerned. One of the most refreshing things about the current quest is that many of the scholars have recognised this and consequently tried as much as possible to put aside their particular biases. In fact many have even been prepared to have their own beliefs and assumptions radically altered as a result of their discoveries. The only important things are the facts of history. John Dominic Crossan, recognised by many as the preeminent of all modern Jesus scholars, is adamant that his singular intention was to reconstruct the historical Jesus with as much accuracy and honesty as possible. He states that his purpose was not motivated by any desire to find a Jesus whom he could like or dislike, agree or disagree with. He gives his readers an imaginary discussion between himself and Jesus, one which does not avoid a personal challenge to himself:
“I’ve read your book, Dominic, and it’s quite good. So now you’re ready to live by my vision and join me in my program?”
“I don’t think I have the courage, Jesus, but I did describe it quite well, didn’t I, and the method was especially good, wasn’t it?”
“Thank you, Dominic, for not falsifying the message to suit your own incapacity. That at least is something.”
“Is it enough, Jesus?”
“No, Dominic, it is not.” 29
Another reason I decided to make use of so much current Christian critical scholarship for the first part of this book is that I wanted to introduce Pagans to something that many Christians have not even encountered, and if they did would probably find disconcerting. The few Christian groups that do value and use this material have consequently started to remodel their view of Jesus as well as their general theology. For example, there are now thousands of progressive and liberal Christians who do not feel they have to believe in a literal dual-nature Jesus of the creeds. There are those who are much more likely to see Jesus as a human teacher who points to the divine presence (Cosmic Christ) within all, than the Incarnate Son of God who was offered as a perfect sacrifice for sins. There are also many who see terms like the Incarnation as a metaphor. I will develop some of these insights in a later chapter. But first let’s imagine a two-hundred-year-long archaeological dig, set not in some great desert or ancient ruins, but inside the walls of a research library. The metaphorical chisels and trowels have been momentarily placed to one side and, as the symbolic dust begins to settle, a figure gradually emerges. So what’s he like, this de-Christened Jesus?
As I’ve said, there is no consensus, but there are some common agreements. In a nutshell, this is the sort of man we’re talking about:
Jesus was a Galilean Jew, born most likely in Nazareth or the lesser-known Galilean Bethlehem, which was very close to Nazareth, unlike Judean Bethlehem, which is a few miles from Jerusalem.30 He lived in the early part of the first century ce and was deeply connected to his own culture, seeing his mission as totally inseparable from it. In other words he did not envisage a new religion of Christianity, but wanted to extend the God-experience to those of his own culture and religion who were marginalised or somehow “outside the box.” In this sense he was an anti-temple Jewish radical.
He did not preach himself as “the answer” but pointed to the “Kingdom of God” which many scholars now see not as a coming Kingdom, but as a Kingdom that is already present—even within us. It is a Kingdom of equality and openness.
In contrast to the periods of severe aestheticism and self-mortification within the Church, the historical Jesus shows signs of being very human and worldly, more interested in feasting than fasting, and knocking about with various misfits and outcasts whom regular society shuns. Jesus was a political reformer and a rebel against any form of inequality, be it from Jerusalem or Rome.
John the Baptist was a man of tremendous importance with regard to the formation of Jesus’s own ministry. He was possibly originally one of John’s followers.31 Whether Jesus recognized his own messianic status is open to debate, but it is most unlikely that he saw himself as uniquely divine. If Jesus were somehow able to leap ahead to the council of Nicaea and heard himself being talked about as “fully God and fully man,” he would have no idea what they were going on about.
Jesus was clearly some sort of holy man, healer, miracle maker, exorcist—whatever that all meant. Even non-Christian contemporary sources (like Josephus, a Romanised Jewish historian) agree with this,32 and those who despise him do not charge him with being a fraud but able to achieve his miracles by the power of evil forces (witchcraft).33
Jesus was abandoned at his arrest, and only a few women remained there for him. His family seem to be suspicious of him and may have even thought he was mad. He was executed under Pontius Pilate, governor of Judea.