Some scholars view the Gospels, and Jesus, as familiar stories about demigods

For me, the Abrahamic religions -- Christianity, Judaism, Islam -- are the most difficult both to read and to understand. The Bible's Old and New Testaments, along with the Koran, just don't appeal to me. There's no coherent philosophy or even theology that is readily apparent. 

Obviously observant Christians, Jews, and Muslims find much inspiration in their holy books. But when I've read them, they seem boring and poorly organized. Which isn't to say that Buddhist, Hindu, and Taoist writings are exemplars of clear writing. They aren't. 

However, while I have to work at it, these Eastern religions (or philosophies) make more sense to me than the Abrahamic religions. Even if I don't agree with some teaching, at least I can get a general sense of what Buddhism, Hinduism, or Taoism is all about. 

That's tougher to do with the Bible, a book that I've never wanted to read straight through because it strikes me as largely being a collection of stories rather than a description of the theological foundation for Christianity and Judaism.

An article by Adam Gopnik in the March 31, 2025 issue of The New Yorker, "Do You Know Jesus? Why the Gospel stories won't stay dead and buried,"  helped me to understand why I feel this way. (Online title is "We're Still Not Done With Jesus.")

I've shared some excerpts from the article that I found particularly interesting.

Gopnik starts off by talking about a new book by Princeton professor emeritus Elaine Pagels, "Miracles and Wonder." In the passage below, Gopnik discusses the conflict between Biblical scholars who believe that Jesus actually existed, though stories about him may be fictional, and scholars who view the Bible as simply a collection of tales about one of the supposed demigods who were commonplace in the Mediterranean region back then.

The interpretive approach that Pagels represents is skeptical—nothing happened quite as related—but inclined to accept that something happened, in something like the sequence suggested. A scholarly paradigm that has shone in recent years shifts the focus: the Gospels are now seen as literary constructions from the start.

There were no rips in the fabric of memory, in this view, because there were no memories to mend—no foundational oral tradition beneath the narratives, only a lattice of tropes. The Gospel authors, far from being community leaders preserving oral sayings for largely illiterate followers, were highly literate members of a small, erudite upper crust, distant in experience, attitude, and geography from any Galilean peasant preachers. Their writings bear all the marks of that sharp-elbowed circle and none of the gentle gatherings of group memory.

Indeed, the Gospels don’t even present themselves as history, the way other chronicles of the time did. “Whether one considers the collection of early Christian gospels, the various apostolic acta, the assortment of apocalypses, or the burgeoning stock of hagiographa,” Richard C. Miller argues in his 2015 study, “Resurrection and Reception in Early Christianity,” the reader finds “nothing deserving of the genus ‘historiography.’ ” The early Christian gospels show “no visible weighing of sources, no apology for the all-too-common occurrence of the supernatural, no endeavor to distinguish such accounts and conventions from analogous fictive narratives in classical literature.”

From this perspective, the familiar elements of the Nativity—the stable, the shepherds, the Magi—were not meant to paper over the embarrassment at Jesus’ illegitimacy. Rather, they were simply the stories you told because that’s what the birth narratives of demigods were like. The tomb was not found empty because of local confusion or an effort to suppress the fate of a corpse; it was empty because an empty tomb was a standard signifier of divinity. Miller catalogues many comparable instances. The Gospel portrayals of Jesus, he concludes, offer nothing that couldn’t be found within the well-worn conventions of the Mediterranean demigod tradition.

The passage below interested me because Christianity often portrays itself as a religion born from suffering and persecution. Poor us, goes the refrain, we were almost crushed out of existence in the early years of our faith. 

Well, maybe not. There's reason to believe that actually Greek, or Hellenistic, culture was much more tolerant than Christianity was. Having written a book about Plotinus, a 3rd century Neoplatonist Greek philosopher, I can attest that Plotinus was deeply committed to reasoned discourse rather than rigid dogmatic assertions.

That Christianity spread across the world is an extraordinary fact of history. But we should resist the idea that it did so because of some inherent theological inevitability. The consequence of Constantine’s adoption of the faith was less a grand design than a lucky break; Roman emperors mostly had the life spans of gnats, and Constantine happened to avoid assassination. Christianity’s rise should be no more astonishing than that of Mormonism, a Christian heresy with obviously fabricated origins. People seek faith, and faith, by its nature, demands the embrace of what reason resists.

And the placid and ecumenical urge, so appealing in more serene moments, can land differently in our own. Christianity, Catherine Nixey insists, largely invented religious intolerance and the persecution of dissenters. Hellenistic culture was imperfectly tolerant; the Christian one perfectly intolerant. Constantine, adopting the faith as an expansive gesture, was shocked by the vengeful fervor of his new adherents.

Nor was Christian intolerance simply a response to persecution, the Notre Dame professor Candida Moss contends in “The Myth of Persecution: How Early Christians Invented a Story of Martyrdom” (2013). Her book, as the title suggests, attempts to dismantle the idea of Christianity as a faith forged in suffering. She argues, instead, that it constructed a cult of victimhood while stamping out dissent and violently opposing any pluralism of thought.

Christianity, often so powerful in causes of human equality—Martin Luther King, Jr., after all, led the Southern Christian Leadership Conference until the day he died—has a bad record when it comes to authoritarianism, too often being it. (Even now, we see among conservative intellectuals how once well-meaning Catholic communalism can collapse into Trumpite acquiescence.)

Lastly, as is the case with virtually every New Yorker article, the writing is marvelous. Gopnik is good all the way through, but the last three paragraphs of his piece were especially well done. I certainly agree that pagan humanism produces anxiety through its embrace of uncertainty, and "anxiety is always drawn toward the reassurance of authority." 

We see that today in the slavish devotion of Trump's MAGA acolytes, and it was on full display in the early years of Christianity.

What is missing from the discussion today, perhaps, are the pagan opponents of early Christianity. From Celsus to the Emperor Julian, they responded at length to Christian claims, yet their works are now almost entirely lost, known to us only in the fragments that their adversaries saw fit to preserve for the purpose of refutation. It would be as if all that remained of Daniel Dennett’s work were one of those “Ben Shapiro Pwns Atheist!” videos.

As Stephen Greenblatt reminded readers in his Lucretian adventure, “The Swerve,” some of these largely vanished thinkers, especially those at the Epicurean edge, seem to have already grasped what remains a core truth: the world is material and values are made by us, often shaped through poetic myths and transcendent metaphors. The humanism they championed was always plural—there are many plausible ways to live. But, in its refusal of certainty, their humanism also produced enormous anxiety, and anxiety is always drawn toward the reassurance of authority.

The authority always fails. The anxiety reasserts itself. A new, amended authority emerges. In the interstices of such authority, the atoms we are made of will, by chance or by purpose, form and fix into new patterns—some of them beautiful, some not, with the shapes of faith both grotesque to our cooler judgments and inspiring to our warmest imaginations. We who are made of matter must somehow find a way both to recognize this mystery and not to mind it, too much.

Comments

[Ron E.]

It does seem to me that the Christ story is a repeat or continuation of the many myths that have always been around in the middle east. Along with the really strange (to me) assertion that to be a Christian is a matter of believing that which is written in the Bible and (more pertinently for Christians) the New Testament. We have evolved to question and wonder.

As quoted here by Stephen Greenblatt “. . .some of these largely vanished thinkers, especially those at the Epicurean edge, seem to have already grasped what remains a core truth: the world is material and values are made by us, often shaped through poetic myths and transcendent metaphors.”

The world about is comprised of amazing natural phenomenon. Any abstract concepts we invent to describe nature is to relegate it to mere thought constructs, to ideas and opinions that in effect, replace reality with fantasy.

Also, I have little time for any ‘teachings’ that require belief in the supernatural, or for that matter, beliefs that take some of our physical and mental states to be something other-worldly or spiritual such as is prevalent in many New Age teachings – which sadly, of late includes some of the meditative or contemplative traditions.

[sant64]

Scholars agree with Candida Moss that persecution wasn’t as pervasive as Sunday school tales suggest, and martyrdom stories were often propaganda. But Moss’s leap to "mostly myth" doesn’t hold up—enough historical data (Roman records, early Christian texts) confirm real, if intermittent, suffering. Her work is a provocative conversation starter, not a settled verdict. The field still sees early Christian persecution as a complex mix of fact and embellishment, not a wholesale invention.

The same is true for the claim that the NT is just a bunch of stories. The historical-critical approach to biblical scholarship indicates that many of the details of the gospels were likely embellishments that aligned with Jesus's ministry with the OT. But these literary devices aren't proof that Jesus never existed or that the larger events of the gospels didn't happen. That's not my opinion but the opinion of the vast majority of biblical scholars.

Was Hellenistic culture more tolerant than Christian culture? Religiously and intellectually, yes—it embraced variety without blinking. Socially and politically, it’s a toss-up; both could be brutal to outsiders or threats. Christian culture, once dominant, grew less tolerant of rival beliefs, driven by its exclusive claims. The Hellenistic world didn’t care what you thought as long as you paid taxes. Christians did—sometimes too much. Context matters: pre-Constantine Christians out-tolerated pagans; post-Constantine, the tables turned. Pick your metric, and the answer shifts.

Anyway, what is the point of this essay? Oh that's right, Donald Trump of course, and his "slaves," and the larger theme of authority. Gopnik or rather Goopnik's nebulously goopy prose apparently bears much light to some people.

But I don't find it in the least compelling. I guess that's because I daily see video after video on X where they terrorize innocent people who own cars they don't like in the most cowardly way. These are the same people who championed the "we just save democracy"! theme before the election. Now, they are of Nero's party. They are the terrorists, the violent ones.

[Ron E.]

As with many of the initiators of religions, Abraham, Moses, Laozi, Buddha etc. the origins and evidence for their actual existence is scant. Little is known them, most of the information we have of them is from the later scriptures, which was written (and abridged) many years and centuries after their assumed tie. As for Jesus, there are no birth records, no trial transcripts, no death certificates through the entire first century. There is not so much as a solitary reference to Jesus in any non-Christian, non-Jewish source of any kind. With the wealth of stone inscriptions, letters and documents Jesus’ name is non-existent.

But we have to acknowledge, whether these religious founders were actual people, myths or merely representations of what later people, societies, cultural and political convenience wanted, is relevant only where it benefits people of their time. To that end, it is germane as to the current mentation of what people feel is relevant to their lives. Sadly, much of what appears to be relevant has shown to be ultimately destructive and divisive.

It seems to me, that if a teaching or religion is fundamentally divisive and isolating, then that is one of the main sources of conflict and suffering. Many of today's leaders would undoubtedly benefit from an understanding of themselves and particularly the natural world with its obvious delicate interdependence that supports all life systems. Without such understanding, economic, political, social and religious systems can only add to the turmoil and conflict.

[Karim W. Rahmaan]

"Even if I don't agree with some teaching, at least I can get a general sense of what Buddhism, Hinduism, or Taoism is all about."

And that's just it, my Church of the Churchless brother Brian. We cannot just pick and choose like a salad bar from Religions.

That creates too much room for error. We must give any Religion a fair study and as you say "Be in the moment" specifically and totally but separately and one study at a time. If not, we're just gonna jumble up any good that can come from Religions or get discouraged because we didn't take the time to gain understanding one religious text at a time.

Remember all religions are the teachings of past Spiritual Teachers who tried to spread their message. Sant Mat means "the Way of the Saints". So each religion must be given its own proper respect, and diligent study. Only then, one may start to see the links that bind our whole creation.

[Magnetic Fields]

The Gods of the Old Testament and the God of the New Testament are not the same. It’s mind boggling trying to understand how the OT and NT were combined into one book with the expectation that they represented the same Source.

There is a mystic Christianity that sees the OT as a history book and questions why a few of the books in the NT were added (like the book of Revelations which is all about fear and judgement and not in line with the spirit of Christ).

Regardless, there are many paths to the truth. One has to keep an open mind, question everything and ultimately just listen to the heart.

[Magnetic Fields]

Everything is energy. https://youtu.be/YSSMFaOpoLc?feature=shared
Energy is everything.