THE PROPHET OF NAZARETH
Of recent years a strong reaction against the Pauline interpretation of
Christianity--or shall we say the Pauline type of Christianity?--has
set in. We have so completely outgrown the primitive notions of
sacrifice, and the Jewish belief in the necessity of an atonement is so
contrary to our idea of God, that Paul's rabbinical theology does not
strike a sympathetic chord. After all is said, we are descendants in
the spirit of those gentiles for whom Paul's message was nonsense.
Intellectually, we are the sons of Plato and Aristotle, of Archimedes
and Justinian. During the Middle Ages, the ideas of the period of the
Graeco-Roman decline were mingled with the social ideas of feudalism.
To-day, science and philosophy have lifted us back to the serener
heights of classic times, and bid fair to surpass that glorious period
in solid construction if not in delicacy of inspiration. The result
is, that the social mind is dropping those elements from Christianity
which do not harmonize with our moral and intellectual temper. Now,
the synoptic gospels are of a nature to lend themselves to this
shifting of interest from the theological and the sacrificial to the
more human and ethical. They present an idealized picture of Jesus
Christ after the flesh, whereas Paul preaches only the second Adam,
Jesus Christ after the spirit. Paul was {73} interested in the world
to come and the heavenly world above the clouds where sit the aeons, the
principalities, and the powers. We are interested chiefly in the world
here and now, in social justice and democratic fellowship. As
humanitarianism became aggressive, Christianity reflected the change.
Is there any reason to suppose that its theological envelope will be
able to place a boundary to the extent of this change? The real forces
at work are those of to-day, those of our own spirit and mind. Only
for a time will they seek to find themselves in the past. Only while
they are gathering force and confidence will they masquerade as a mere
revival of a truer primitive Christianity.
It is extremely suggestive that the more democratic movements within
Christianity have always stressed the kindlier, more human, and more
homely phases of the bible. The followers of St. Francis of Assisi
were, at first, teachers of humility and brotherly love; and Francis,
himself, modeled his life after that of Jesus as he conceived him. The
disciples of Wycliffe made their home among the peasantry and artisans
of Mediaeval England. John Ball is a good interpreter to us of the
social outlook they nourished. It appears that they thought of Jesus
as like one of themselves, read his life in terms of their own pressing
problems. Pietism and methodism have always inclined toward the gospel
Jesus in preference to the Pauline Christ; but their social outlook was
far too negative and passive. Democracy must be aggressive,
non-mystical, triumphant. It must exalt reason while not forgetting
tenderness. With the growth of modern democracy of a socialistic kind,
Jesus the Carpenter with his kindly word for the poor and downtrodden
and his scorn for {74} the haughty and rich has become the symbol and
sign of a new social ethics. It is evident that religion is not
independent of the social temper of an age. Religion points to the
seat of power as a compass points to the pole. When man's sore need
made him cry out for mercy and succor in the primitive days, his
ignorant helplessness inevitably peopled nature with gods of fertility.
Illusion and need created the gods of myth and ritual. Remove this
setting of ignorance and illusion, and put in its place a sense of
power, and need will point to the proper use of that power. Justice
and mercy and reason, used socially for a social purpose, will surely
become the religion of an intelligent democracy. In the older forms of
religion, man was a petitioner holding out helpless hands of prayer; in
the religion to come, man will be a creator bravely taking his destiny
into his own hands. What a reversal! Yet it is no greater than the
contrast between the primitive world we have been studying, with its
mana and taboos and magic, and the modern world with its knowledge of
chemistry and electricity and its deep probing into the very soul of
man.
But we must return to the explanation of the popular tendency to exalt
the man Jesus over the Pauline Christ. Is the explanation far to seek?
Theology of a recondite character has always been the expression of
reflection and leisure. The religion of the masses has always been, on
the contrary, in terms of pictures and emotions connected with their
everyday needs. The rabbinical concepts of Paul were foreign to their
experience, while the philosophical mysticism of John was appreciated
only by a few who felt the beauty of the language and the strange charm
of its figures of speech. {75} To the common people Jesus was a loving
friend who comforted them in their sorrows, and the witness to a heaven
in which all tears would be wiped away. Of course, we must not be too
romantic in our interpretation of the outlook of the masses. These
sentiments often attached themselves to the given theology with
dogmatic fierceness; and in the background superstitious fears were
only too apt to smolder. But, on the whole, it is not false to say
that the gospel story of the life of Jesus with its simple pathos and
vivid diction appealed to the masses, while his personality met their
ideal of nobility and moral grandeur. Jesus, the man who was also the
Son of God, who came upon earth for them and for some reason died for
them, affected them as nothing else could. And is it not a wonderful
conception? Yes; in the right setting, there has been none grander in
all literature. It is a masterpiece of lyricized mythology. But, when
we have outlived its setting, it can affect us only as great literary
masterpieces do, when we consent to throw ourselves into the aesthetic
attitude.
The pragmatic and aesthetic qualities of a story do not guarantee its
historical truth. In fact, research has shown that practically all the
most charming anecdotes which have come down to us will not stand
critical examination. The historian of Christianity is well aware of
this situation. The general movement of enlightened religious thought
from the more mythical element to the career of Jesus, while it bears
witness to a more wide-spread interest in his personality, also
testifies to a growing doubt of the validity of the theological
constructions which have been woven around his figure. We wish to
know, if possible, exactly what he thought {76} and taught. Were we
able to determine this, we feel that much of the distorting atmosphere
would be withdrawn. But is not this, itself, one of those deluding
hopes which the attitude of compromise fosters? Do we not know in our
heart of hearts that the beliefs of Jesus reflected the beliefs of his
time, just as the beliefs of Kant or Luther are functions of the ages
in which they lived? But we have here an hypothesis which can be
tested by historical data. Were the views of Jesus like those of his
age? Nothing has come out more clearly than just this fact.
Let us see what has resulted from this close study of the sources. We
must remember that books were not published in ancient days as they are
at present. Manuscripts passed from hand to hand, and individuals
added to them, or altered them, or combined them as they saw fit.
Plagiarism did not have the meaning it has now when authors live on the
proceeds of the sale of their books. Besides, it was quite the custom
to attach names to manuscripts at pleasure or in accordance with
tradition. Our modern critical attitude had not arisen--for obvious
reasons. Besides, it was difficult to secure copies of manuscripts.
For instance, Papias, bishop of Hierapolis in Phrygia toward the middle
of the second century, believed that there was an Aramaic gospel
according to Matthew, but he was unable to get a glimpse of it and had
to trust to the oral tradition of his time. To bring this situation
home: suppose we had to rely on the oral tradition still lingering in
regard to the life of Washington, how certain would we be of its
authenticity? Why, there are already myths in regard to the life of
Mary Baker Eddy! In olden days, {77} myths sprang up like mushrooms.
Only too many varieties were at hand to choose from.
Scholars are pretty certain that the present Matthew is not a
translation of an Aramaic original. Moreover, the present Matthew
breaks up into separate parts conflicting with one another quite
extensively, and is full of insertions of a comparatively late date.
Only after the gospel has been radically revised are we likely to be
near an old tradition of the life and deeds of Jesus.
While we are on the topic of the authenticity of the gospels, it may be
worth while to discuss the other synoptics as briefly as possible. The
majority of critics regard Mark as the oldest but this is mere
guesswork when all is said and done. In its present form it is briefer
than the others and this fact has impressed many students. Besides, it
does not contain an account of the infancy of Jesus. But it, itself,
is evidently a compilation of other documents since it repeats the same
event in slightly different forms. In all probability, it was written
in Greek for a Hellenistic audience and emphasizes those traditions
which would be the most likely to impress its readers. It is not known
who wrote it or exactly when it was written.
The gospel according to Luke did not originally make any claim to have
been written by Luke. Scholars are agreed from internal evidence that
it could not have been written until long after the fall of Jerusalem
in 70 A.D. The author of Luke was acquainted with the _Antiquities_ of
Josephus and this shows that he must have made his compilation and free
reworking of traditions in the second century.
{78}
If, then, our gospels were not written by eye-witnesses, and represent
the beliefs and traditions of at least the next half-century after the
death of Jesus, to what can we give credence? What is myth and legend
and what is historic fact? Can we find a clew to guide us?
It is a canon among historical critics to regard those passages as the
oldest which conflict most with the outlook of the later centuries. We
can understand why they happen to be there but there would be no good
reason for their later creation and insertion. Let us try to determine
whither this canon will lead us.
All scholars agree that the birth stories are a later addition. They
are a product of Hellenistic beliefs, perhaps even of Hindoo
influences. The Virgin-Mother myth was very common in ancient times
and the whole machinery of the story was undoubtedly absorbed from
tales widely current in those days. For instance, the father of Plato,
the Greek philosopher, was warned in a dream by Apollo so that Plato
was virgin-born. What can we think of the intellectual state of
Churches which excommunicate ministers who have the decency to inform
their congregation what disinterested scholarship has determined? So
far as there is intellectual dishonesty or incompetence here, it will
bring its own punishment in the attitude adopted by sincere men toward
the Churches. The best we can say, then, is that there is no very good
reason to doubt that Jesus was the son of a carpenter, by the name of
Joseph, and his wife, Mary. He was not the only child, for Mark
represents his fellow townsmen as saying: "Is not this the carpenter,
the son of Mary, and brother of James and Joses and Judas and Simon?
And are not his sisters {79} here with us?" Quite a goodly family, you
see. The Ebionite Christians, who were the Christians of Palestine and
probably had the safest traditions on this point, believed that Jesus
"was the son of Joseph and Mary according to the ordinary course of
human generation." His kinsmen were the leaders of the Christian
community for several generations. But there is little use in laboring
a point which is so obvious.
Of his early life we know practically nothing. He was probably not
trained as a rabbi but worked at the trade of his father. We may
assume that he knew how to read and write, since an opportunity to
learn was usually offered in the synagogue. It is likely that his
reading was largely confined to the religious literature of his people,
especially the psalms and the prophets. His spirit was more in harmony
with the deep ethical fervor of these champions of righteousness and
lovers of justice than with the formal prescriptions of the Law. If we
may judge from the general tone of the traditions, he was a close
student of men and a lover of nature, a silent, reflective man who
noted the events passing around him. His youth passed in this way
without any overt step being taken; and, perhaps, without any clear
message having developed in his mind. He was simply one of the
dissatisfied few who are always to be found. Now and then, it may be,
he spoke passionate words against the evils that were apparent on every
hand, quoted the prophets in their outbursts against similar evils and
subsided into a brooding silence. There are many such in our land
to-day, sincere and passionate and kindly men who eat their heart out
witnessing the course of events.
The Jews of the day cherished the idea that a {80} Messianic kingdom
would be established. Jesus shared in this expectation; but it is
certain that he thought of it less as a restoration of the Jewish state
to power than a change in the position of the mass of the people. In
other words, he infused the belief with a finer ethical meaning more in
accordance with his concept of God and his sense of what was really
valuable and important. There is no means of knowing his entire
attitude toward this popular belief in a supernatural kingdom to be
established by God upon earth, but he undoubtedly retained its main
outlines. He was a child of his age although a notably sincere and
high-minded one.
About 28 A. D. John appeared and preached in the wilderness. Jesus
went to hear him because of the natural interest he aroused. It is
quite probable that he was baptized by John. We do not know whether he
associated himself with John or not. At any rate John's message
crystallized his own ideas and he felt called upon to continue his
mission. He did not proclaim himself as the Messiah but simply
preached that the kingdom of God was at hand and that men were to
prepare for it. This preparation was of an ethical sort and largely
ascetic in character.
Palestine was in a ferment at this time and his appearance and
preaching aroused great interest. Like all prophets he was called upon
to heal the sick and, accepting the customary views of sickness, he
proceeded to exorcise the evil spirits which possessed those who were
brought to him. I do not see how he could have escaped this task.
What part accident played in giving him confidence cannot be known, but
it was probably large. There is no reason to doubt that there is a
ground of fact for these stories of healing, although {81} they have
been grossly exaggerated by later tradition when he was viewed as
divine. We must always remember how late and biased our sources are.
As time went on, he gained more confidence in himself. Since he was
human, he could not help being moved by the confidence of the people.
He felt that reforms should be made; everywhere was poverty and
sickness and unhappiness. Could the thought help coming to him that
perhaps he was the one to inaugurate the kingdom? The idea kept coming
back, forced upon him by his own reflection and by the questions and
assumptions of his disciples. It may be that he never made up his mind
but was forced by the course of events to go to Jerusalem where his
career ended all too soon. Mankind will never know the details of his
inner life; his doubts, hopes, decisions, indecisions are hidden from
us in an obscurity that will never be completely lifted.
His preaching became more revolutionary. More and more he set himself
in opposition to the mechanical observance of the law and the fanatical
worship of forms and days. The opposition of the conservative members
of priesthood increased in bitterness. Soon it was war to the knife
between this new prophet, with his disregard for the law, and its
chosen representatives. Thus Jesus had drifted into a position which
he had probably not anticipated when he set out on his ministry. But
this is always the way. Mohammed began as a reformer, and the
antagonism of the keepers of Caaba led to his aggressive campaign;
Luther and Huss and Wycliffe changed their attitude and their ideas at
various moments in their career. No man's life is the working out of a
fixed and ready-made plan. At any rate, he determined to go to
Jerusalem--in all {82} likelihood, as Pfleiderer suggests, in order to
win a victory over the hierarchy and to realize the prophetic ideal in
the center of the religious life of the Jewish nation. The people
received him enthusiastically but his opponents were too strong and
clever for him. He feared only secret assassination while they induced
the Roman power to intervene.
The story draws to a close. In the garden of Gethsemane Jesus felt the
possibility of a tragic end to his hopes of an early coming of the
Kingdom. The real situation shines clear through all the legend which
a later age has woven around it. When he saw himself surrounded by a
multitude of armed men, he knew that resistance was vain. He was
delivered into the hands of his enemies. Through all the humiliation
and pain of those days, he seems to have hoped that his God would
rescue him. It was only on the cross that he finally gave up hope.
The heavens were dumb as they always have been and always will be.
The body of Jesus was probably thrown into the common pit reserved for
malefactors, as Abbe Loisy suggests, while the story of the burial by
Joseph of Arimathea grew up to save him from the terrible dishonor of
such a last resting-place. The rest of the traditional narrative is
unquestionably mythical. Paul speaks of him as buried and evidently
thinks of the risen Jesus as an incorruptible or spiritual man. Paul
did not believe in a bodily resurrection. The visions which led to a
belief in the resurrection of Jesus were ecstatic in character. We
must remember that the ancients were far less critical than we are in
regard to dreams and illusions and did not consider a return to life in
some shadowy form as very unusual. I have not the {83} slightest
difficulty in my own mind in accounting for the belief in the
resurrection of Jesus in an entirely natural way. Once this belief
arose and became important as a part of a new religion, the rise of
legendary details was simply inevitable.
The position I have taken is relatively conservative. Many scholars
have even become skeptical whether such a person as Jesus ever lived.
We cannot be certain but it seems more plausible to give a relative
credence to the older strands of tradition in the New Testament. That
such an ethical reformer lived who believed in the coming of the
Messianic kingdom, that he was embroiled with the priestly class and
was done to death by them with the aid of the Roman governor who feared
a seditious outbreak, that his disciples after his death came to
believe in his resurrection and his coming Messiahship upon earth, all
this appears to me more than probable. Human life is a fertile field
for tragedy. The more we rid the narratives of their fairy-story
accompaniments and see Jesus, not as a god who foreknows his human life
and plays it out gravely as an actor who knows his role, but as a human
being hurried to issues he had not at first dreamed of, the more his
career becomes comprehensible. Its pathos is increased by this truer
perspective, while the moral grandeur of his life gains by the human
atmosphere which descends upon it. He lived his life sincerely as
other men have done and did not dream of the use history would make of
his name.
{84}