Sofia 143 (March 2022), titled ‘Thank You, Life!’, had on its cover a lithe young man leaping with worshipping angels attendant. The biblical Jesus (an historical existence here assumed) is described both as an ordinary though admirable man and as attributed with divine assertions and accomplishments. The linking of natural approval with Christian theism is hugely persuasive and a guide to evangelism. The dichotomy of humane concern and authoritative power is apparent also in the institutions of religion.
It is to be noted that the Bible is a compilation of writings by authors varying in date, culture and intention, and that all of Jesus is recorded well after his life. The writings themselves have a chequered history of amendment, translation and selection for compatibility (as at Nicaea AD 325). As revelations inspired by an eternal all-knowing God, they are curiously determined by the circumstances of their origin (domination by men and customs of the time, errors of fact …).
To begin simple-mindedly with familiar belief, a seemingly ordinary couple are obliged to travel even though she is pregnant. We are told, however, that she is virgin, and lodgings are a problem. Astonishingly, Magi arrive after a star-guided journey with rich gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh to honour the birth, which is followed by flight from Herod. The enduring tradition of celebrations (strikingly near pagan solstice) embraces homely gifts and re-enactments alongside holy ritual.
It is all puzzling. Why the Saviour for all humankind appears as a birth there and then, why this entourage that visits another realm but is not otherwise reported? And what happens to the gifts that might transform the wealth of the family? More plausibly, Matthew’s writing (the source, probably late 1st century), perhaps as a Jew concerned to reconcile an emerging faith with tradition, intends to create accord with prophecy. That is selected from a mass of utterance (much about the future of Israel, still Jewish!); the added myrrh (cf. Isaiah) is interesting, given what Matthew knows of the death of Jesus. At the crucifixion, the darkness (an Old Testament metaphor) and the words of the centurion may seem more theatrical than plausible.
As described, the adult life of Jesus is a good example to us all. Incidents reported reveal him as forgiving and tolerant, fair and kindly. But he stands up boldly when confronted by what is offensive or wrong (temple money-changers, a stoning). He seems normally male even if without any sexual activity, works as a carpenter like his father, and has a bunch of mates generally well chosen. He is the sort of chap who helps by solving practical problems that arise (fishing, wine, food). When finally condemned as a trouble-maker, he remains brave and aware of others. But his doings are said to be miraculous and divinity claimed. The assertion (C.S. Lewis) that Jesus must be divine if not insane or evil gains force from his general goodness. But there is much space between these extremes (Empedocles an example, perhaps – brilliant, and ‘insane’ seems harsh).
If we do not believe in any such deity, explanation is required. The statements might be made by Jesus or be attributed to him. Most obviously, we all know only too well that some people will say anything that suits their belief or purpose – our world is full of those seeking fame, wealth or power. Knowing of God is an immense claim that controls adherents, both cynical and innocent, and attracts widening allegiance.
Offered is the greatest possible promise, eternal happiness that will be denied to all others (even by micro-faiths). It is certainly better than our troubled mortality in this world, so often distressed and unfortunate. And the accompanying threat of eternal torment is to be evaded at all costs: what is to lose (Pascal’s wager) by accepting salvation? More immediate is the hope of forgiveness to relieve what may be very destructive feelings of guilt especially if reparation is impossible.
It is often asked (as an evangelical acquaintance reminds me), if Jesus is God, the concept ‘Son of God’ seems very difficult to elucidate (noting The Trinity). It might be taken in the weak sense that we humans are all ‘children of God’.
If we doubt claims of revelation guaranteeing texts, then how does the necessary initial concept of God originate? Suppose that our ancestors, understanding human intentionality well but little of the physical world, simply assumed purposeful agency as the most plausible explanation. The Sun is a god of immense power, the beautiful rainbow is created as a sign by deity, thunder is incidental to godly anger, and so on. Anthropomorphism and teleology modify explanation, and thorough-going mirroring can provide families of gods of varied status and preoccupation that cooperate or quarrel, their imperfection following logically.
Language is slippery, and misunderstandings easily arise, especially once figures of speech become available and modes such as humour and irony. Everyday speech includes that a wonderful job is done, that an escape is miraculous; and when seeing someone paddling through a shallow expanse it is easy to exclaim ‘Just like walking on the water’. Innocent retelling is a possible contribution. Even in faiths with a single primary author, there are usually enough inconsistencies to enable doubt or combative schism. And devotion to literal truth seems easily evaded when suits: ‘Thou shalt not kill’ has been no defence for those proposing other beliefs.
Psychological accounts include both unconscious and considered motives. Freud suggested our intense early experiences are of being helplessly dependent on uncomprehended others clarifying to an internalisation of parental agency, the super-ego: God is ‘the Father’ restraining disorder and so enabling society. The mind finds defences, ways of resolving and evading unacceptable desires. A violent wish for dominance or revenge may be displaced onto enemies who can therefore be punished, or be projected into stories with self-righteousness victorious. A quite different psychology (Merton) simply places self-actualisation at the top of a hierarchy of needs.
Thought might contribute an embodiment of ethics, the ideals of hope and charity, and a basis for justice. Priesthood and ritual consciously imitate (difficult aspirations that can corrupt) as by glorious lofty churches with celibate ‘father’ priests and persuasive images.
Institutional belief develops, with accompanying practicalities for success, and the status of leaders may be bolstered by layers of authority. ‘Faithfulness’ commands loyalty that can override apparent defects, and it is vital that dispute be eliminated: blasphemy and apostasy are to be fiercely punished, heresies and rival faiths vanquished.
On the constructive side, to build the enduring community, rules are needed for its general health and well-being. To grow requires being fruitful and multiplying (fertility promoted and homosexuality forbidden), and that parents will instruct children and require conformity – so ‘honour thy parents’: religious groups control more than a third of English state schools and many private/informal.
Evangelism is likely to be added, unless restrained because a faith is tied to the identity of a pre-existing community, its special merit recognised as God’s choice. That claim continues in current times as cultural, ethnic and nationalist identities are asserted (found in Islam, Judaism, Hinduism, and the Russian assault on Ukraine, among many examples) and can add an almost intractable intensity that is easily exploited.
Management packages often mix the ruthless authority, with sensible benefit. Intermediary examples include confession, an exercise in authority perhaps also therapeutic, and the life of religious communities, ordered in both senses. Endorsing those greater can lend a sense of power and generates belonging, as do fan clubs.
The present emphasis is that the great appeal of Jesus is the ascribed duality of human and divine aspects. We are drawn to the man and so to faith; and how happy the thought that we may find loving acceptance if we declare love. To assist this, religion may provide beautiful and splendid images, perhaps personifications, together with rituals that instil and reinforce commitment, whereby we become assured of the divine. It may well be suggested that the dominant religious attitude in this country now inclines to the kindly Christ, but that comes after centuries of conflict and the development of secular civic values.
Edwin Alan Salter, married and living in King’s Lynn, has diverse interests including climate and well-being, education and expression.