I tend to go along with Christian tradition in supposing that Jesus of Nazareth was a singular historical person. However, an intellectually honest critical analysis of the pertinent ancient texts calls for admission that there is virtually no direct evidence to support that view. It is entirely possible that the ultimate source of the Jesus traditions was not one singular person, but several, whose teachings and life circumstances may have been concatenated or conflated by re-tellers and later literary compositors, i.e. the Evangelists, the authors of the gospels.
My view, which serves as a framework for understanding and representing the religious-ethical teachings attributed to Jesus, is that the surviving scriptures are ultimately based on oral accounts of the sayings of a remarkable, prophetic Judaic teacher who engaged in a brief but very influential ministry, which was profoundly transformative for most of the people who received his teachings. I do not doubt that Jesus, like multitudes of prophets and religious teachers before and since his time, was divinely inspired, i.e. he was consciously and whole-mindedly in communion with God. His purpose was well described as proclaiming the gospel, or the good tidings, of God.
I have no reason to doubt that Jesus, or an historical personage very like him, was crucified in Jerusalem by Roman occupation authorities in about 30 C.E. It is also plausible that a few of his devotees promulgated a tale that Jesus had gone missing from his crypt on the third day following his death. What actually happened is unknown, but this story, and the fictive denouement of Jesus' bodily resurrection that was added to the first gospel narrative, have had incalculable consequences, affecting the history of religion more than any other dogma has ever done.
Whoever the original instigator of the first-century Jesus movement might have been (if but one), I believe he was no more God incarnate than any human being potentially is. Moreover, he was not Christian. He was, apparently, a Judaic Messianist. For all we know, 'he' may well have actually been 'they' - several 'Jesuses' as it were.
Early Christianity as we know it seems to have been invented almost single-handedly by the apostate, repentant Pharisaic letter-writer Saul of Tarsus, who was called Paul in Greek. The emergent Christian religious tradition was elaborated, following Paul, by a number of evangelistic authors working with textual sources based on oral transmission - and a few scraps of written "sayings" of Jesus. Nothing resembling an established, organized church developed in these traditions until some time in the second century, in circumstances far removed from the original Jerusalem assembly of “The Way,” observant Jews who heralded the coming of the Lord, that is, the advent of the Jewish Messiah, the Son of Man who they believed would inaugurate the reign of God in Israel.
The Greek translation of the Aramaic term, “Meshiach” - Messiah - was "Christos," i.e., Christ. The theological meaning I make of the term, “Christ” is that it signifies that condition of the soul in which the human person is in conscious communion with God. Another way I have put this is “the consciousness of personal being in relationship with being itself.” To be “in Christ” is to be awakened to the reality of one’s sacred identity with God, as Jesus is said to have been. Thus, as I would interpret the evangelistic narrative, upon baptism by John, Jesus became consciously Jesus Christ, Son of God, standing for the potential of sanctification inherent in every person.
I understand the term, “grace” as signifying that spiritually transforming self-realization in which one recognizes the identity of one’s personal being with the ultimate reality of being itself. Grace is the gift of God-consciousness, and it brings about the state of being in Christ. The gift of grace is received through faith, which is precisely that orientation of the whole person prescribed in the Biblical commandment to “love God with all your heart, and all your soul, and all your mind.”
Jim Weller is a graduate of Pacific School of Religion in Berkeley, California. He is currently a member of Peace United Church of Christ, formerly called First Congregational Church of Santa Cruz.
Sunday, December 18, 2005
Sunday, December 11, 2005
The Parable of True Wealth
A certain wealthy young man owned a mill, which was the most important source of income for the people of his village. This he had inherited from his father, who had taken over the business from his own father, and so on, for several generations. The wealthy man inhabited his estate for all the years of his life, and throughout the years, as he walked proudly through his village, which eventually became a town, and then a small city, he often passed by a man in ragged clothes, the same man year in and year out, who meekly begged for alms each time they met.
The wealthy man was disdainful of the poor, thinking them lazy and idle. He was chiefly concerned with increasing his profit and his property. Yet he was a church-going Christian, and he was not mean or cruel. He remembered the parson quoting Deuteronomy, saying, “There will always be poor people in the land. Give freely to those who are poor and needy in your land. Open your hands to them.” So whenever he could not pass by unnoticed, he would give the poor man a few coins from his purse. Thus it went for many years.
The wealthy man strove industriously all his life, and multiplied his inheritance. Many sought to gain at his expense. People flattered, and wheedled, and cheated, and sued for his advantages. But the beggar just humbly thanked him for his little gifts and blessed him contentedly. The wealthy man and the beggar both grew old, keeping their different ways and means. The wealthy man at last became ill and weary, and was sorely burdened with his worldly concerns. One evening when again they encountered each other in the street, while handing him a coin, he asked the beggar in exasperation, “How can you have endured so long in your wretched alley, yet you seem so thankful and at peace?” The beggar bowed gratefully, and replied, “My friend, true wealth is knowing what is enough.” And so it was.
The wealthy man was disdainful of the poor, thinking them lazy and idle. He was chiefly concerned with increasing his profit and his property. Yet he was a church-going Christian, and he was not mean or cruel. He remembered the parson quoting Deuteronomy, saying, “There will always be poor people in the land. Give freely to those who are poor and needy in your land. Open your hands to them.” So whenever he could not pass by unnoticed, he would give the poor man a few coins from his purse. Thus it went for many years.
The wealthy man strove industriously all his life, and multiplied his inheritance. Many sought to gain at his expense. People flattered, and wheedled, and cheated, and sued for his advantages. But the beggar just humbly thanked him for his little gifts and blessed him contentedly. The wealthy man and the beggar both grew old, keeping their different ways and means. The wealthy man at last became ill and weary, and was sorely burdened with his worldly concerns. One evening when again they encountered each other in the street, while handing him a coin, he asked the beggar in exasperation, “How can you have endured so long in your wretched alley, yet you seem so thankful and at peace?” The beggar bowed gratefully, and replied, “My friend, true wealth is knowing what is enough.” And so it was.
The Parable of the Seekers
Once upon a time, in a strange and faraway place, there lived a species of people who were small, but their numbers were very great, and they populated a land that, to them at least, was vast. Their species was ancient, having occupied the land for uncounted generations. The clans, and communities, and countries of them were numerous, and there were many different languages and traditions among them. They had no writing though, because their fingers were short, and so were their legs, so they rarely ventured very far from their birthplaces.
The landscape where these people lived was ridged and wrinkled, full of hills and dales, and rills and rivulets, and in the middle of it was an enormous rise of peaks, that they called the Mountain of God. Most of the people never knew what lay beyond their own particular crease in the earth, for their lives were as short as their limbs, and they had to work hard every day for a living. They all could see the towering tops of the Mountain of God though, from the higher vantage places, on certain days and moonlit nights, when fog and clouds didn’t hide them.
These people had just one food, which they prepared in many different ways, for variety. This was a sweet, aromatic, seed-like, whitish substance that appeared overnight as if materializing out of thin air, like hoarfrost. It was called “manna.” Some said it resembled a gummy resin exuded by certain trees, and some said it was like a grainy residue left on leaves by aphid-like insects. Legend had it that once, in a wilderness encampment, a great flock of quails had arrived, and then the people had feasted on roast squab, but as long as anyone living remembered, their food was just manna, manna, and manna, nothing but manna.
The people gathered their manna every morning and ate it up that day, because it would not keep overnight. It would spoil and be found crawling with maggots by next morning - except, oddly, on the sixth night. Every seventh day, no manna would be found, but the leftovers from the day before would still, inexplicably, be edible. So on that day, which was called “Shabbat,” no one had to labor gathering food. Everyone said the manna was a gift from God for God’s beloved people.
Another strange fact about this land was that the force of gravity was not the same everywhere. Everything weighed less at higher elevations, and weighed more at lower elevations. For this reason, though it was difficult for people to climb very far uphill on their short little legs and tiny feet, their work was easier, and they felt lighter and more restful, when they had made the effort to reach higher ground. Naturally, hilltop real estate was the most valuable. The big problem, though, for most people, was that the food always collected in the low hollows, and thus only the very rich could afford to pay servants to carry it up the hillsides to them. Consequently, no one lived permanently on the highest ridges, though people sometimes came there on day-trips, and felt their yokes most joyously lightened.
Now, most of these people didn’t think about God very much. They all believed that God could, in principle, be found way up on the tops of the Mountain of God, but almost no one claimed to have ever seen God. They would get together in small or large groups, on Shabbat, to praise and thank God for not having to work that day, and they cherished and enjoyed that tradition, but few were really very concerned about God, as Godself.
There were always a few, though, who were ultimately concerned with God. They loved God with all their hearts, and all their souls, and all their minds, and all their might. They were called “Seekers.” They sought to approach nearer to God by journeying arduously, step by tiny step, over the land, up hill and down, toward the Mountain of God. As they reached the ridge tops, they felt weightless and light-hearted, and they knew in which direction to travel because they could see the peaks of the Mountain of God gleaming beautifully in the light of the sun and the moon, when the air was clear. They were often hungry on their pilgrimages, since their manna did not last overnight during their crossings of the high country, where they could find none. On Shabbat days, the Seekers rested and worshipped God with the people gathered in little brown churches in the dells, who shared their manna with them.
For as long as anyone knew, Seekers had told the gathered people about their visions of the Mountain of God, about their hopeful journeys, their enlightenment in the high places, how they expected one day to see God, and to be in God’s presence. From time immemorial, multitudes of Seekers had come from every direction in the land, and many had reached the Mountain of God. Not only had they done that, but also many had returned to tell of it. They told of many paths worn and cleared by halting, little steps up the mountain, and of age-old signs and monuments left by those who had gone before, showing Seekers the way up, higher and higher.
Some paths ended in sheer stone outcrops, or had been blocked by rockslides. Those ways were hidden with overgrowth, or covered with rubble. But other paths, though steep and impossible to discern from below, had been kept open and free from stumbling blocks. Seekers knew, they said, that some pathways could still be ascended all the way up. Of these, there were known to be quite a few, approaching the peaks of the Mountain of God from every side.
To reach the summits took Seekers many years, even lifetimes. It required of them prudence, justice, temperance, and fortitude. The climbing was easy, even though their short-limbed locomotion was very slow, because they were light as lizards at that high altitude. But how did the Seekers survive on the rocky mountaintops without fresh manna? God provided them with freeze-dried, extended-release, high-protein, carbohydrate-balanced manna substitute with organic preservatives, because God wanted to see the amazement on their sun-burnt faces when they finally arrived. God had a liberating truth to reveal to them, which came in a blinding flash of the obvious - this, of course, you already know.
The Seekers who had made their way to the top, and returned with the good news of God, advised others to do this: Find a well-worn path with well-kept signs; study the signs and understand them, set out on the path you’ve chosen, paying close attention to the ground ahead, and stay on that path. That will be your Way. Do not turn aside from it, looking for a better route. There are many ways to reach the heights, they said, but scrambling across the mountainside, scrabbling and sliding on this path, then that, from one blind curve to another, without learning the meanings of the signs, is definitely not the way.
But did the neophyte Seekers heed the advice their venerable mentors so generously gave them? Actually, most of them did, because they had never seen pulp fiction or television shows, and their undergraduate professors were Dominicans and Jesuits. And what of the unfortunate, sophomoric, heedless ones in a hurry, who couldn’t tell a blunderbuss from a bowling pin? Some of them eventually wandered back down into the valleys, all knot-headed, shin-scraped, and bruised, saying that, as far as they were concerned, there was no God up there after all.
So, ages came and ages passed, and most of the people never did see God’s face. God never spoke, and they couldn’t have read God’s handwriting anyway, but they mostly believed in God nonetheless, and they kept getting their daily manna. Wise and weary Seekers kept coming back from the Mountain of God, radiating God’s glory, and people fed them and listened to their stories, but most people really were content just to scrape up breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and admire the daffodils blooming in the meadows.
God, being just and merciful, and having other worlds to create, continued to love them as long as their short little lives lasted, because they were God’s people, with all their short little fingers and short little legs, and God had promised to deliver them from evil into the land. And so it was, because even though God is invisible and speechless, and no one can decipher God’s handwiting, God is nothing if not one who keeps promises.
The landscape where these people lived was ridged and wrinkled, full of hills and dales, and rills and rivulets, and in the middle of it was an enormous rise of peaks, that they called the Mountain of God. Most of the people never knew what lay beyond their own particular crease in the earth, for their lives were as short as their limbs, and they had to work hard every day for a living. They all could see the towering tops of the Mountain of God though, from the higher vantage places, on certain days and moonlit nights, when fog and clouds didn’t hide them.
These people had just one food, which they prepared in many different ways, for variety. This was a sweet, aromatic, seed-like, whitish substance that appeared overnight as if materializing out of thin air, like hoarfrost. It was called “manna.” Some said it resembled a gummy resin exuded by certain trees, and some said it was like a grainy residue left on leaves by aphid-like insects. Legend had it that once, in a wilderness encampment, a great flock of quails had arrived, and then the people had feasted on roast squab, but as long as anyone living remembered, their food was just manna, manna, and manna, nothing but manna.
The people gathered their manna every morning and ate it up that day, because it would not keep overnight. It would spoil and be found crawling with maggots by next morning - except, oddly, on the sixth night. Every seventh day, no manna would be found, but the leftovers from the day before would still, inexplicably, be edible. So on that day, which was called “Shabbat,” no one had to labor gathering food. Everyone said the manna was a gift from God for God’s beloved people.
Another strange fact about this land was that the force of gravity was not the same everywhere. Everything weighed less at higher elevations, and weighed more at lower elevations. For this reason, though it was difficult for people to climb very far uphill on their short little legs and tiny feet, their work was easier, and they felt lighter and more restful, when they had made the effort to reach higher ground. Naturally, hilltop real estate was the most valuable. The big problem, though, for most people, was that the food always collected in the low hollows, and thus only the very rich could afford to pay servants to carry it up the hillsides to them. Consequently, no one lived permanently on the highest ridges, though people sometimes came there on day-trips, and felt their yokes most joyously lightened.
Now, most of these people didn’t think about God very much. They all believed that God could, in principle, be found way up on the tops of the Mountain of God, but almost no one claimed to have ever seen God. They would get together in small or large groups, on Shabbat, to praise and thank God for not having to work that day, and they cherished and enjoyed that tradition, but few were really very concerned about God, as Godself.
There were always a few, though, who were ultimately concerned with God. They loved God with all their hearts, and all their souls, and all their minds, and all their might. They were called “Seekers.” They sought to approach nearer to God by journeying arduously, step by tiny step, over the land, up hill and down, toward the Mountain of God. As they reached the ridge tops, they felt weightless and light-hearted, and they knew in which direction to travel because they could see the peaks of the Mountain of God gleaming beautifully in the light of the sun and the moon, when the air was clear. They were often hungry on their pilgrimages, since their manna did not last overnight during their crossings of the high country, where they could find none. On Shabbat days, the Seekers rested and worshipped God with the people gathered in little brown churches in the dells, who shared their manna with them.
For as long as anyone knew, Seekers had told the gathered people about their visions of the Mountain of God, about their hopeful journeys, their enlightenment in the high places, how they expected one day to see God, and to be in God’s presence. From time immemorial, multitudes of Seekers had come from every direction in the land, and many had reached the Mountain of God. Not only had they done that, but also many had returned to tell of it. They told of many paths worn and cleared by halting, little steps up the mountain, and of age-old signs and monuments left by those who had gone before, showing Seekers the way up, higher and higher.
Some paths ended in sheer stone outcrops, or had been blocked by rockslides. Those ways were hidden with overgrowth, or covered with rubble. But other paths, though steep and impossible to discern from below, had been kept open and free from stumbling blocks. Seekers knew, they said, that some pathways could still be ascended all the way up. Of these, there were known to be quite a few, approaching the peaks of the Mountain of God from every side.
To reach the summits took Seekers many years, even lifetimes. It required of them prudence, justice, temperance, and fortitude. The climbing was easy, even though their short-limbed locomotion was very slow, because they were light as lizards at that high altitude. But how did the Seekers survive on the rocky mountaintops without fresh manna? God provided them with freeze-dried, extended-release, high-protein, carbohydrate-balanced manna substitute with organic preservatives, because God wanted to see the amazement on their sun-burnt faces when they finally arrived. God had a liberating truth to reveal to them, which came in a blinding flash of the obvious - this, of course, you already know.
The Seekers who had made their way to the top, and returned with the good news of God, advised others to do this: Find a well-worn path with well-kept signs; study the signs and understand them, set out on the path you’ve chosen, paying close attention to the ground ahead, and stay on that path. That will be your Way. Do not turn aside from it, looking for a better route. There are many ways to reach the heights, they said, but scrambling across the mountainside, scrabbling and sliding on this path, then that, from one blind curve to another, without learning the meanings of the signs, is definitely not the way.
But did the neophyte Seekers heed the advice their venerable mentors so generously gave them? Actually, most of them did, because they had never seen pulp fiction or television shows, and their undergraduate professors were Dominicans and Jesuits. And what of the unfortunate, sophomoric, heedless ones in a hurry, who couldn’t tell a blunderbuss from a bowling pin? Some of them eventually wandered back down into the valleys, all knot-headed, shin-scraped, and bruised, saying that, as far as they were concerned, there was no God up there after all.
So, ages came and ages passed, and most of the people never did see God’s face. God never spoke, and they couldn’t have read God’s handwriting anyway, but they mostly believed in God nonetheless, and they kept getting their daily manna. Wise and weary Seekers kept coming back from the Mountain of God, radiating God’s glory, and people fed them and listened to their stories, but most people really were content just to scrape up breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and admire the daffodils blooming in the meadows.
God, being just and merciful, and having other worlds to create, continued to love them as long as their short little lives lasted, because they were God’s people, with all their short little fingers and short little legs, and God had promised to deliver them from evil into the land. And so it was, because even though God is invisible and speechless, and no one can decipher God’s handwiting, God is nothing if not one who keeps promises.
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