Sifting through Steiner

Rudolf Steiner

Reading the great Germanic polymath, Rudolf Steiner, is, by any measure, a challenging experience. His formal literary output is prodigious and includes a very healthy array of weighty philosophical tomes, most of them written early in his career, while the collection of transcripts of his lectures – covering the first two decades of the XXth century up to his death in 1925 – is truly vast and spans an astounding spread of topics. His complete works run to some twenty or more volumes. So in terms of sheer quantity, the boast of having “read Steiner” is a feat in itself. Reading even ten percent of Steiner is a task of several years, at least. More to the point, though, the content is especially challenging on several levels. Herr Dr Steiner is perhaps best described as an “esoteric philosopher” - to put it kindly - and much of his thinking is very esoteric indeed. Ordinary, unsuspecting folk are likely to encounter Dr Steiner through his education movement (Steiner or Waldorf Schools) or perhaps through alternative medicine (Anthroposophical Medicine) or organic farming (biodynamic agriculture) or curative homes for handicapped children, or one of many branches of the arts, or sundry cultural initiatives that are extensions of Steiner’s work, but when they first open up a book by Steiner, or more likely wade into some of his lecture transcripts, they are confronted by an intellectual world that is not only unusual or even eccentric but is, frankly, bizarre. Steiner has been, and remains, a very influential figure in modern European culture, but the intellectual foundations of his influence are strange and dense and obscure and, for most, inaccessible.

In the estimation of the present writer, who is unashamedly interested in things that are out of phase, this is something that recommends him. There are surely few thinkers who are quite so out of phase, so at odds with the pedestrian and the standard, the accepted and the prevalent, as Rudolf Steiner. Reading Steiner will certainly twist one’s world-view out of a settled complacency and remove one from the dry, comforting world of familiar ideas. His capacity to step out of the structures of modern, materialist, scientistic thought and to see the world through a very different paradigm is one of his great accomplishments, and something that betokens his genius. It is for this that the present writer has ventured into Steiner’s works at regular intervals over a period of some thirty or so years. Let it be clear: Steiner is certainly worth reading. There is really no one quite like him. He is an outstanding figure. One does not throw around the epithet “genius” too often, but there can be no question that Steiner was a genius, a man of quite extraordinary intellect, a figure of rare brilliance.

For all of that, however, he is a mixed bag. On the one hand his work is based on the very sound foundations of high German philosophy and a deep, penetrating acquaintance with the natural sciences. He made a significant contribution to epistemology in his doctoral thesis, later published as ‘The Philosophy of Freedom’. He was deeply conversant with Hegel, Kant, Schopenhauer, Schelling – the whole crew. He met Nietzche in person. As a young man – recognized for his brilliance – he was appointed as editor of the natural scientific works of Goethe. Independent of these studies, he shows remarkably original insights into an impressive range of fields in both the sciences and the arts: medicine, architecture, dance, music, sculpture, astronomy, painting, pedagogy. One can read volumes of Steiner without once encountering anything derivative.

On the other hand, much – but not all – of Steiner is infected with a highly eccentric strain of theosophical thinking even murkier and more unwholesome than that of Madam Blavatsky. This, moreover, rests not upon the foundations of Dr Steiner’s unquestionable intellectual gifts but upon loose and reckless claims of seership and “clairvoyance” and “the investigations of spiritual science”. Wedded to Steiner’s considerable and unique corpus of scientific and philosophical insight is a vast theosophical construction – dubbed ‘Anthroposophy’ – complete with Atlanteans, epochs, ages, reincarnation and complex hierarchies of spiritual beings. Further, in contrast to Blatavskean theosophy, this construction has had grafted onto it a strangely gnostic Christianity, a veritable casserole of old heresies and a host of new ones which, again, have as their sole authority Steiner’s claim to be a seer with direct access to the spiritual realms. The entire ensemble is decidedly fantastic, to say the least. This is not to say that, even then, his genius does not sometimes shine through. As baroque concoctions of gnostic Christo-theosophy go, Anthroposophy is intriguing and unusually cogent, but it is, all the same, a relic of an age when the Theosophical Society, theosophical occultism and clairvoyance were intellectual fashions. To contemporary readers this aspect of Steiner now seems unaccountably bizarre. Side by side with his brilliant philosophical and scientific insights one encounters an outlandish theosophical superstructure that goes well beyond the borders of credulity. There is the genius on the one hand, and the theosophical crank on the other. Steiner made a serious miscalculation. On the one hand he was far ahead of his time. He is now seen, rightly, as a visionary pioneer of organic farming, alternative medicine, holistic education, and much else. But he supposed that the theosophy that had become popular and respectable through the Theosophical Society was a path to the future. For a clairvoyant he showed a notable lack of foresight into the coming drift of the age. In fact, theosophy came and went as an intellectual movement and today seems spent and archaic. Steiner married his philosophy and science to it, and today that decision serves him ill.

‘Married’, in fact, is the right word in this context. One must ask, as did some of his contemporaries, how such an astute and brilliant mind as Steiner’s ever became entangled with the spiritizualizing gibberish of theosophy? The present author has pondered this question many times. Steiner’s works are replete with startling insight. There is no greater exponent of the Goethean sciences. One is surprised and delighted again and again by his understanding of nature, his capacity to think ‘outside the square’, as the saying goes. But then, it is all marred by the theosophy – or Anthroposophy – by which he frames it. How did this happen? How did such a sublime body of thought become so enmeshed in a web of theosophical nonsense? To read Steiner one must confront this problem. The gems are mired in a mountain of dross. How did this happen? What went wrong?

The answer is that he was swept along by two fashions of his day. One was the theory of evolution, which he embraced enthusiastically and of which he then gave an extended spiritual interpretation. Many other people of his day did the same, but perhaps none so thoroughly and comprehensively as Steiner. In much of his writings, and even more so in his lecture transcripts, everything is seen through the lens of evolution. It is evolution this and evolution that. The other fashion, as already noted, was theosophy, but it is important to note that his embrace of this took a particularly personal form. His second wife, Maria von Sivers, was a keen theosophist, and a key member of the German Theosophical Society. When he met her not only did he find a new companion – and one who actively assisted his work in many fields – but he also found a ready-made audience for his ideas. By his own account, his inclinations towards the spiritual were longstanding and deep. He claims that his clairvoyant powers were ripe at an early age. But, frustratingly, it was a dimension of himself about which he had to keep silent for fear of ridicule and misunderstanding. As it was, Goethe’s scientific theories were ridiculed by hard-nosed materialists. Steiner found it difficult to find an intellectual forum in which he could discuss them and be taken seriously. Maria von Sivers solved this difficulty for him. She inducted him into the Theosophical Society and there he found a receptive audience. For theosophy it was a coup. He was surely the most significant intellectual to ever join that organization. He did so in his search for an audience and – what must not be overlooked - for the love of a woman. 

The Theosophical Society, indeed, was full of intelligent, or if not intelligent then wealthy and important women. Much of its success in the sociological context of the late Victorian era and early XXth century was in that it provided a forum for women to engage with the discussion and digestion of the flood of new ideas exposed by the broader (but male-dominated) Orientalist movement. It was at an early encounter at one of Steiner’s public lectures that the then Frauline von Sivers asked him a question about the possibility of developing a fully esoteric understanding of Christianity. Steiner took to this task and eventually married the woman who had suggested it to him. With Maria von Sivers, he also married theosophy and all that it entailed, and thereafter the nature and tenor of his work changed dramatically. He openly declared his seership, quickly rose to be leader of the German Theosophical Society and gathered a following of sympathetic devotees. At length, he, Frau Steiner and his followers, split from the Theosophical Society proper – the catalyst being the Krishnamurti affair – and formed their own esoteric school, the overtly Christian Anthroposophical Society with its headquarters in Dornach in Switzerland. 

Dr Rudolf and Frau Maria Steiner 

In order to read Herr Dr Steiner today one must be aware of this background. In his early works one encounters the philosophical Steiner, then deeply embedded in the German philosophical tradition. One also encounters the Steiner who was the young genius who edited the natural scientific section of the Goethe archives. Both of these strands – philosophical and natural scientific – continue to be developed throughout his later work. He remained an unsurpassed master of German phenomenology and Goethean science. But beyond a certain date – the early years of the XXth century – it is important to realize that he is writing for and speaking to a different audience, and his outlook is now intermingled with his own idiosyncretic (and increasingly Christocentric) version of theosophy. Thereafter, he attempts a fusion, a grand amalgam, of these various influences – Schopenhauer meets Goethe meets Blavatsky meets the gnostic Jesus. 

Dr Steiner with a model of his first Goetheanum.

The first Goetheanum, Dornach, Switzerland. Steiner's masterpiece. The wooden building was destroyed by arson by German nationalists. 

In fairness we should note that while it is often difficult to disentangle this remarkable all-encompassing assemblage, the idea of freedom prevails throughout, and his work in various fields of the sciences and the arts is, in theory at least, independent of Anthroposophy. He was not a polemicist. He seems to have appreciated that some people might want the Goethe without the theosophical frame. He offers his ideas no-strings-attached. One does not need to be an Anthroposophist dedicated to nurturing the fifth post-Atlantean epoch to see the good sense in many of his ideas about teaching and pedagogy. Nor does one need to be anticipating the reappearance of the Christ-Being in the etheric realm to take advantage of biodynamic agriculture. In the best instances, Steiner kept his Anthroposophy and his Goethe somewhat separate. The agriculture course he gave to farmers, and his astronomy course, are examples. Both masterpieces of Goethean science, they are relatively free of clap-trap. In other cases, though, readers need to carefully separate the inter-mingled strands in order to disinfect his works of the material directed at an audience with a theosophical world-view. One needs to remove Frau Steiner, that is to say. To be frank, women of the Theosophical era often led very able men astray. Even today, perfectly sensible men can be intellectually hobbled by New Age women appealing to the supposed feminine virtue of intuition against the allegedly hardened masculinity of reason. In order to read Steiner it is necessary to divorce him from Maria von Sivers and imagine where he may have taken his genius if he had not married a theosophist. This, and some compensations for the over-played spiritual Darwinism. It is not always easy.  It requires judicious reading. One might need to mentally edit out every second paragraph. It is what makes reading Steiner such a challenge. 

STEINER'S BLACKBOARD DRAWINGS

In almost all cases, though, it is a challenge worth undertaking. Let us reiterate: Rudolf Steiner was a man of exceptional talents who has made a remarkable contribution to modern European culture. He planted valuable seeds. He was not a hack or a charlatan. It is a great pity - arguably one of the intellectual tragedies of the modern era - that he became entangled with the pseudo-spirituality of theosophy. He is a much diminished figure for this. But then, what else could he have done? Such a man, so out of phase but with so much to offer, needs to find a receptive audience somewhere if he is not to waste away in lonely obscurity. And who can blame a man for hitching his wagon to a supportive woman? And, in any case, it is surprising how often it is rewarding to persist with even the most bizarre of Steiner's utterances, to suspend disbelief, and follow his line of insight to its conclusion. The present writer can remember many occasions where his response to reading Steiner was to marvel at what an unexpected and downright weird yet strangely fresh and compelling point of view Steiner presented. Even the bizarre in Steiner makes its mark. 

Much of his scientific work is an extended extrapolation of traditional cosmology seen through the illuminating lens of modern science and deserves particular attention. At the core of it is his conception of the 'threefold man' which has its roots in Plato and other ancient and venerable traditions but which Herr Dr Steiner explores deep into the physical constitution of the human body. Indeed, this is the most impressive aspect of Steiner: while Jung and countless others proposed a bridge between modern science and spirituality in psychology - on the basis of a confusion of psyche and pneuma - Steiner found it rather in biology. This is a great accomplishment in itself, and this alone makes Steiner worth reading. The Steiner perspective is inherently alchemical in this respect. The physical sciences, the study of matter and life, is the place of the spirit. But readers must expect to have to sift Steiner's words as they go. It can be frustrating. Why does he pollute his genius with this rot? one keeps asking. The important thing is not to be put off by the task of sorting the wheat from the chaff. The wheat, when you locate it, is exceptionally high grade. 

One further point of appreciation. We live, according to Steiner, in what he calls a "consciousness soul age" and our spiritual constitution is quite different today than how it was in the past. This follows from his account of the 'evolution of consciousness'. Accordingly, yesterday's solutions will no longer suffice for tomorrow. This is rather over-cooked in much of Steiner, but the present writer has come to appreciate the wisdom of this general proposition much more than in the past. This is especially so in response to the raging popularity of what we might call 'neo-shamanism' and more generally 'neo-primitivism' in alternative spirituality circles today. See a previous post on this issue, 'The Primitive is not the Primordial', here. The spectacle of modern people taking up the primitive mode as a 'path' is a symptom of troubling times. Steiner, at least, knew that much. We cannot go back to a lost past. Modern man is made of very different stuff to the Stone Age shaman. The 'consciousness soul' of modern man - an entirely new arrangement of inside and outside - is a mode in itself, and a legitimate spirituality must find meaning in it. In this present age many paths which served people well in the past are closed or dead ends or else are full of specters and demons. We can only marched forwards, come what may. We cannot evade the consequences of the 'consciousness soul'. There is no way back. 

Yours

Harper McAlpine Black

Reflections on the Middle Kingdom

The author somewhere in western China. 

The contemporary People’s Republic of China is a far cry from earlier versions of the same entity under the dismal shadow of the Maoists. It remains a single party state, of course, and the said party is officially called the Communist Party, but as one gentleman, a German who has been living in Luoyang for many years, explained to the present writer over dinner one night, “there are no communists left in the communist party.” Instead, the Middle Kingdom has reverted to age-old patterns of rulership and the Party’s authority rests more upon a general perception of the “Mandate of Heaven” than upon credentials conferred by the historic class-struggle of the masses. All the same, there is no escaping the fact that the good people of China have, over the last few generations, been through a Marxist hell and signs of it are everywhere if one cares to see them. 

This is a place where all religion was officially banned, where the institution of the family was crushed under the One Child Policy and under collectivist fantasies, and where the Cultural Revolution attempted to forcibly eradicate 4000 years of tradition - one of the greatest crimes of the modern era. The Cultural Revolution, in particular, has left the Middle Kingdom impoverished at various levels. The Chinese boast of their modernization, but it is especially shallow and uncreative for all of that. China is a casebook study of a society in which there is no longer, or not obviously, a deep well of tradition from which to draw, but also of the fact that tradition is, finally, irrepressible: the patterns of the past remain as strong as ever somewhere below the surface. 

In Xi’an, at the end of the silk road, where the author sojourned, the entrance to the ‘Revolutionary Park’ in the city centre is now adorned with a larger than lifesize statue of Donald Duck. Most of the old city has been bulldozed and replaced with row after row of ugly, functional apartment blocks – that hallmark of Marxist social engineering. Yet, within the city’s historic Mahometan quarter, and elsewhere, life continues on much as it always has and there is a strong sense that nothing substantial has changed, really, in hundreds of years. 

For their part, the Chinese people prefer to forget about the Maoist nightmare. Chairman Mao is acknowledged by lip-service as the founder of modern China or, more significantly, is adopted into the pantheon of Taoist deities as the man who defined the notion of the “people”. Slowly but surely the wounds inflicted by the Marxists are healing and the Middle Kingdom reverts back to something like its old self, albeit transformed by modernity, or the sino- version of it. There are many paths to modernity. China chose a particularly nasty one. The Party justifies it by the manifest evidence of contemporary prosperity and the growth of the middle class. But this is a lie. The miracle of the Taiwan economy is there to show that the transition to modernization did not require such appalling violence. Similarly, the fact of Hong Kong, and Singapore, exposes the lie that it was the “colonial running dogs” who had held the Chinese back and that “thought reform” and “class struggle” and “reindoctrination” were the only path forward. The real success of modern China is purely a function of the size of its market, not the wisdom of the Party elders or the historical mandate of Marxist ideology. Indeed, the emergence of a prosperous market-driven China owes virtually nothing to Maoism. On the contrary, Maoism retarded the country for long dark decades and it was only when the Marxists all retired to their miserable godless graves that the place was able to begin to fulfill its modern destiny. 

The wonder of it is that the Chinese people are not outraged by the cost they have paid. When one stands under the ludicrous grin of Donald Duck at the entrance to ‘Revolutionary Park’ one wants to ask: so this is what all the suffering of the Great Leap Forward was leaping forward to?!! The Party seems intent upon the Disneyification of China now. The country is certainly well-managed, but it is rather like the management of a well-run amusement park.

The real essence of the Chinese tradition is a quandary to the Chinese themselves. What has become if it? There is an air of amnesia across the land. An example of this is the food. During Maoist times family traditions were so disrupted that the age-old heritage of traditional recipes and family culinary secrets were fundamentally disturbed. For those dreary decades the whole country – clad in their silly Mao suits – was nurtured on Party canteen food. The Maoists, of course, were peasant farmers who loathed peasant farming. It is estimated that some 30 million or more Chinese died of starvation under the wise guidance of the Great Helmsman. There is no gainsaying it: Mao really was one of the great lunatics of all time. The extraordinary thing is that the army allowed him to inflict the damage he did. What remains now is a much diminished cuisine. In truth, real Chinese food can more readily be found in the Chinese diaspora than in the homeland. The present author knows this as a fact. As previous posts to these pages relate, he spent months exploring the communities of the Malacca Straits Chinese, especially in Phuket and the Prince of Wales Island. One finds a rich Chinese culinary heritage there, unbroken and proud. Food in China, whether in the western outposts of Xi’an and Luoyang, or the modern metropolis of Shanghai, is a tale of disappointment, by and large. These days chefs from China travel to centres of the diaspora to relearn Chinese cooking. If this is what has become of the kitchen, one can imagine what impact the mad hand of Maoism has had in other areas of life. 

The spiritual vacuum is most noticeable. The lineages of Taoism were stopped in 1951 but resumed again in 1987. This represents the hiatus that befell China in all walks. In much of China the sacred places of Taoism are now Disney-style theme park exhibitions where the Party has erected signs – belatedly – commanding that abstract entity “The People” to “Respect Our Heritage!” Traditional Taoist medicine and other traditional sciences are now being reconstructed according to Party requirements. Again, if one wants the real thing rather than the Party reconstruction one needs to go to Taiwan or Hong Kong or Singapore, or George Town, or even San Francisco.

Similarly, the great guiding wisdom of Confucius still exists as a bedrock of Chinese social customs, but Mao had a particular disregard for the Confucians and tried to wipe their influence from Chinese society altogether. Taoism and Confucianism are a matching set, a heaven-ordained synergy that, together with Chan Buddhism, form a complex that is the spiritual core of the Chinese tradition. (Perhaps more on this in a later post.) Today, Confucius has been rehabilitated as a great pioneering “educator” in the Party’s official secular history but his true place in Chinese ideas is largely unrecognized. There are signs of renewal though. There is a ‘New Confucianism’ movement and the contemporary scholar Jiang Qing (ironically the same name as Mao's wife!) has bravely proposed a political Confucianism to replace the withering experiment of Marxism. He believes – a view with which this present author is in sympathy – that Confucianism represents the best and purest and most authentic genius of China and that many of the Middle Kingdom’s social and political difficulties in these present and coming times would be best addressed by a new embrace of the Confucian tradition. The present author was privileged to visit several of the great extant Confucian temple complexes during his recent travels. The temple in Soochow was especially impressive. Such once-sacred places are now essentially schools and universities but it was noticeable that many Chinese visitors greeted the temples with solemn reverence and there is at least a functioning priesthood again. 

The Confucian temple in Soochow

All the same, the symptoms of secularization of the tradition are evident everywhere, not least in the quite remarkable spread of evangelical Christianity in China. How can the spread of Christianity be a symptom of seculaerization? Chinese Leftism, like Leftism everywhere, is essentially a species of self-harm. The thing that motivates a Leftist above all else is self hatred - usually dressed up as a concern for 'justice' for others. It is always a self/other pathology. In China, it was the Chinese tradition that the Maoists hated first and foremost. And it remains expressions of the Chinese tradition – let us note the conspicuous example of Falun Gong – that the Party continues to persecute first and foremost. Into the vacuum thus created moves exotic ideologies and especially, these days, Christianity. These are boom times for Christian missionaries in China, although one needs to note that – remarkably – Christianity grew and advanced during the Cultural Revolution too. Again, that “revolution” took aim at China’s own traditions – it was an extended exercise in self-harm - and in doing so it created the space for external ideologies to fill the void, rhetoric about “colonialism” notwithstanding. 

For the present writer this fact is a salient lesson. In the contemporary West, Leftists – “cultural Marxists" who are conducting their own “cultural revolution" through the sophisticated tactics of “soft totalitarianism” – are first and foremost out to do as much harm to the Judeo-Christian tradition as possible. They are perfectly happy to have Mahometanism and Lamaism and other exotic creeds infiltrate the occidental spiritual arena purely because it advances the vandalism of their agenda. (How else is one to explain 'Feminists for the Burqa' or 'Gays for Shariah'?) This is what occurred in China, mutates mutandis. Why, one must ask, did the Party, does the Party, so tolerate Christianity yet crushes a movement like Falun Gong? The answer to this question reveals much about the real nature of Leftism everywhere. 

Throughout his travels across China the present author encountered converts to Christianity at every turn. Islam too is advancing, or at least holding its own. Maoism deliberately damaged the native traditions of China. The Party remains watchful lest unwholesome vestiges of that tradition arise again. The sublime play that is religion has been replaced for most of the population with the inane trinkets of Disney consumerism. But there is – this writer can report – thirst in the ground. Sadly, the Chinese are turning to Protestant forms of the Christian religion as a cure. It is estimated that in a few decades time, at the current rate, China will boast one of the biggest Christian populations in the world. Sadly, because it is actually a side-effect of the Marxist vandalism of the Chinese tradition, undertaken in the demonstrably false belief that it was a necessary step on the path to modernity. It is just as sad – in the same manner - that people in the West are turning to Boodhism and Kung Foo because their own heritage has been systematically and tirelessly sullied by the vicious social engineers who now rule over the institutions of cultural production. This writer’s travels and experiences in China have served to underline this for him and to bring such politico-cultural issues to some new clarity.

Yours,

Harper McAlpine Black

Lament of the Prophet called God

“Jesus wept.” The shortest sentence in the English Bible. Jesus wept on the Cross. In the fascinating reconstructions of the pseudepigraphal medieval work, the Gospel of Barnabas, however, Jesus is portrayed as weeping in many circumstances; indeed, he is a man of constant sorrow. He weeps for Jerusalem, he weeps for Israel and, in a pivotal episode in chapter 112, he weeps for himself. The effect of the written text is melodramatic rather than tragic, but its author intends to portray Jesus as a tragic prophet, an innocent man entangled in wicked events. 

This is despite the fact that in this gospel it is the traitor Judas Iscariot and not Jesus who is crucified; its central claim is that Jesus escaped the Cross. In other docetic literature this is seen as an occasion for happiness: Jesus is portrayed as looking on at the crucifixion happy and smiling, even laughing. In the medieval Barnabas, however, Jesus regards even his rescue from the ignominy of the Cross as a cause for weeping. Only once, in all 222 chapters, is he portrayed as being pleased. In chapter 127, after the great success of the missions to Judea undertaken by his disciples, he expresses contentment and is able, with his disciples, to rest. Otherwise, he is uniformly dour and tearful, a prophet carrying the immense burden of his prophecies.

The Angel Gabriel comforts him on several occasions but to little effect. The Jewish authorities appeal to the Roman Senate to put an end to dissension about the identity of Jesus: this does not comfort him either. He is still a tragic figure even though Judas dies in his stead and God is revealed as merciful toward the righteous and severe to the unfaithful. The docetic crucifixion does not ease Jesus' discomfiture at all.

The source of this portrait of the suffering (docetic) Jesus is to be found in almost the very centre of the work, chapter 112. Here Jesus confides to Barnabas - "he who writes" as the author describes himself - the cause of his sorrow. The few commentators who have studied the work do not seem to have noted this or to have given it due weight. Alone with "he who writes" Jesus reveals what he calls his "great secrets". In the context of the work as a whole it is an important moment; matters that have only been hinted at earlier are here spelt out in full. It is a key scene. All the scenes in which "he who writes" takes a part are important and signal key themes, but this scene especially so. It is Jesus' most intimate, personal confession to his closest disciple and, arguably, a signature scene revealing to us matters close to the heart of the work's unknown author - assuming that the author identifies himself with the character "he who writes".

More significantly, it is the moment at which this "he who writes" receives his commission to impart Jesus' true teachings to the world - which amounts to authority for the document itself. Jesus is half way through his ministry. He knows what lies ahead. After the disciples and apostles had departed:

There remained with Jesus he who writes; whereupon Jesus, weeping, said: "O Barnabas, it is necessary that I should reveal to you great secrets, which, after that I shall be departed from the world, you shall reveal to it."

Then answered he that writes, weeping, and said: "Suffer me to weep, O master, and other men also, for that we are sinners. And you, that are an holy one and prophet of God, it is not fitting for you to weep so much."

Jesus answered: "Believe me, Barnabas;, that I cannot weep as much as I ought. For if men had not called me God, I should have seen God here as he will be seen in paradise, and should have been safe not to fear the day of judgment. But God knows that I am innocent, because never have I harbored thought to be held more than a poor slave. No, I tell you that if I had not been called God I should have been carried into paradise when I shall depart from the world, whereas now I shall not go thither until the judgment. Now you see if I have cause to weep. Know, O Barnabas, that for this I must have great persecution, and shall be sold by one of my disciples for thirty pieces of money. Whereupon I am sure that he who shall sell me shall be slain in my name, for that God shall take me up from the earth, and shall change the appearance of the traitor so that every one shall believe him to be me; nevertheless, when he dies an evil death, I shall abide in that dishonour for a long time in the world. But when Muhammad shall come, the sacred Messenger of God, that infamy shall be taken away. And this shall God do because I have confessed the truth of the Messiah who shall give me this reward, that I shall be known to be alive and to be a stranger to that death of infamy."

Then answered he that writes: "O master, tell me who is that wretch, for I fain would choke him to death."

"Hold your peace," answered Jesus, "for so God wills, and he cannot do otherwise but see you that when my mother is afflicted at such an event you tell her the truth, in order that she may be comforted."

Then answered he who writes: "All this will I do, O master, if God please."

The first contribution by "he who writes" in this passage is interesting in that it might be taken to reflect a more normative type of doceticism. Jesus is indeed a holy one of God: he should therefore not suffer. This is the basis for the doceticism we know from among the heresies in early Christianity: Jesus is too good to have died by crucifixion. In the docetic mind it is too much to think that God could permit or endorse such a monstrous injustice. It was a powerful objection to Christianity in its early history. What manner of God would allow His Son to suffer the scandal and torture of being crucified? Here "he who writes" believes that it is improper for one so holy as Jesus to weep so much. Weeping is the state of sinners; Jesus is not a sinner; why then should he weep?

The "great secrets" then, are a response to this. Jesus explains why he weeps, why he suffers, even though he is holy. And his answer is in itself extraordinary. Its theological and Christological implications are far-reaching. His answer is - I suffer because I am too holy. This is an idea that finds a place within orthodox Christian themes. It answers docetic formulations with the psychological truism: if God was a man a hateful world would despise Him. This is not a failing of God's justice but rather the way of a fallen world and of a sinful mankind.

Elsewhere in the Gospel of Barnabas we have reproductions of the canonical theme 'the persecution of the prophets'. Prophets, in this work, are persecuted by the world, and this is in the nature of things. The author usually has Ahab and Jezebel’s persecution of Elijah and the "Sons of the Prophet's" in mind, but it is presented as a general principle: prophets suffer persecution. Jesus' own sense of persecution, however, is unique. It happens, in this gospel, that Jesus is so holy that men mistakenly call him God, and in so doing bring upon him the persecution of deification. This is the greatest of the "great secrets" in the Gospel of Barnabas: Jesus weeps because men call him God and - more than that - the deification of him does him violence. The peculiar persecution of Jesus, that is, is that he is so good, possesses so many miraculous powers, displays so many signs, that men worship him and make of him a false god. This tragic irony is the keynote to the Gospel of Barnabas' picture of the weeping Jesus.

The consequences of this are wide and are explored throughout this work. While God knows full well that Jesus is an innocent man, the fact that men have made of him a false god has unavoidable repercussions. Jesus, it seems, was a prophet of such high station that he could have attained the paradisiacal vision in his lifetime. Instead, because men had called him God, and despite his innocence, he must, tragically, be deprived this supreme vision until the end of time.

While Jesus is no less deserving of this supreme vision, the fact that men have made of him a god in some way links him to their fate: he must wait until the Judgment and until those who have deified him have received their proper reward. There is the suggestion, too, perhaps, that as a Prophet Jesus was indeed god-like, and that deification was a hazard inherent in his mission. When Peter, at one point, says that Jesus is God, Jesus curses him and prays that he be sent to hell for saying and believing so. At another point Jesus bangs his head on the ground in anger and frustration at what people believe and say of him. He spends a good part of his ministry trying to dispel the false claims being made about who and what he is. In what is surely a strange and oblique presentation of the Jewish War, the identity of Jesus causes sedition and upheaval in Judea. 

In one sense, in the Gospel of Barnabas, his identity is his mission and his message; what he teaches is not as challenging as the question of who he is. Because men call him God, he is withheld from God, or, more exactly, men who are withheld from God withhold him. He is not free of them until they receive their justice. Although it is not explicit in this passage, this doctrine conforms to what the Muslim inspired Gospel of Barnabas has to say about idols and idolatry. In effect, people treat Jesus as an idol, an object of shiirk. He suffers because of this.

The present author has reframed Jesus' speech in chapter 112 as a lament, the lament of the prophet called God:

If men had not called me God

I would have seen God here as in paradise.

If men had not called me God
I should have been safe not to fear the Day of Judgment.

God knows that in my heart I am innocent.

I am naught but His poor slave.

Now thou seest if I have cause to weep.

If men had not called me God

I should have been transported to the Gardens of Bliss

when I depart from this world.

Now I shall not know paradise until the Last Day.

Great is my persecution! since men have called me God.

Now thou seest if I have cause to weep.

God knows that I am innocent of heart.

He shall take me up from the earth

and have the traitor slain in my name.

But if men had not called me God

God should not give him my face

and my likeness in an evil death.

Now thou seest if I have cause to weep.

If men had not called me God

I should not have to abide in dishonour

and await the Comforter who shall remove the infamy.

I have confessed the truth of the one who is to come.

Only he shall restore my name.

Only then shall I be known to be alive

and a stranger to that evil death.
Men have made of me an idol.

This is surely the greatest persecution
the Prophets of God can know.

Now thou seest if I have cause to weep.

It is a cunning twist of Mahometan Christology. The important point to note is that Jesus' final solace - the vision of Paradise - is postponed because men called him God. In this perspective – the core message of this heterodox medieval work - to call Jesus God does him lasting spiritual violence. In the medieval Barnabas he is spared the injustice of the Cross – although Judas is given his appearance and so the world at large attributes this vile fate to him, a slander that persists until the ‘Comforter’ (Paraclete) comes to expose the error – but the unique form of persecution he suffers among all the persecuted prophets is to be deified by a wickedly idolatrous world.

Yours,

Harper McAlpine Black

Discussions on the Jesus Myth Theory

BEING DISCUSSIONS ON THE THEORY THAT 

THE FIGURE OF JESUS IS NOT HISTORICAL BUT MYTHIC

Question: Why have you been involved in historical studies of early Christianity?

Answer: I lectured in Biblical Studies. It was in a secular university. But I was fortunate, because it was part of a broader Religious Studies program. So I could place those Biblical studies - historical, as you say, in a broader discussion. I could place them beside, contrast them to, religious perspectives. 

Question: You appeared in a video clip, which is on Youtube, with many thousands of views, in which you support the theory that Jesus was just a myth…

Answer: Years ago. Yes. It was a favor to a friend, to appear in his video and talk about it. It is an old clip now.

Question: But is it still your view? Or has your view changed?

Answer: It hasn’t changed, but at the same time that video only offers a fragment, a cross section, of my views on what is a complex issue. Like all snapshots it misrepresents. I try to offer nuanced views on that video, but it does not really come across.

Question: But you still support the theory that Jesus was a myth?

Answer: Considered as an historical question, I tend to take that view. Or rather, you might say I am firmly of that view. But there is much more to be said about it. We shouldn’t say that Jesus was “just” a myth. There is no “just” about it. But – to put it negatively – I doubt that Jesus of Nazareth was an historical figure. So the stories about him are essentially myths. It is a theory that has gained some traction in recent years - although not much in academia - and I happen to think - independently - that it best answers the evidence. But I could be wrong.

Question: So, you think there might have been an historical Jesus. Is that what you’re saying?

Answer: I’m saying that the polarity myth/history is a problem in itself. That is what I would like to be saying. Especially when dealing with religion. And certain religions in particular. As a historical matter, I think there might have been an historical Jesus, but I doubt it, and I don’t think there needs to have been in order to explain the historical record. Clearly, what we have in the record is a case of a myth being made into history. Not the other way around. Even if, somewhere, there was an historical germ: it was still largely a myth that was made into history. Not the other way around.

Question: Which is how it has usually been understood, yes?

Answer: Yes. It has always been assumed that there was an historical Jesus. And that over the course of time this historical kernel was amplified by mythology. This is an especially Protestant construction. There was the historical Jesus, but then the Church embroidered the whole thing with theology and myths. So the assumption has been that if we strip away the myths we will arrive at an authentic historical Jesus. It is a deeply Protestant project. But I think it is mistaken in its most basic assumption, its premise. Namely, there was an historical Jesus to start with.

Question: But Catholic historians share that assumption, don’t they?

Answer: They do. Of course. Because – and this is what makes it complex – it is not just a matter of history with which we are concerned here. It is a matter of dogma. The historicity of Christ is a dogma. And it is shared by all Christians, Catholic, Protestant, otherwise. It is a matter of the creeds. God became an historical man. Christianity is about a divine intervention into history. So – in any normative sense – Christians cannot think otherwise. It is a problem.

Question: What makes it a problem?

Answer: The problem is that historical research – godless, secular research – points to the conclusion that Christ was not a historical figure. Or he need not have been, anyway.

Question: Which is a controversial conclusion, isn’t it?

Answer: It is. Among Biblical scholars, it is definitely a minority view. It is regarded as a radical position. And widely rejected. In general, though, it is a controversial view because the historicity of Christ is a Christian dogma. And because even non-Christians share it as an assumption. It is only recently that a body of scholars and researchers, professional and amateur, have raised the serious possibility that Christ may not have been an historical figure. It is a shocking conclusion. It undermines the whole basis of Christianity – or at least, Christianity as an historical religion. For some people, though, that is a positive outcome. It is a theory promoted in anti-Christian circles. Anti-christian polemic. I am not attracted to it, as a theory, for any such reason. On the contrary.

Question: What do you mean?

Answer: I mean, I am not a vexatious researcher. Not an activist academic on an anti-religious crusade. I have only looked at it from a purely historical point of view. Other people – other proponents of the mythicist position – are atheists, or anti-Christian liberals. They have issues with Christianity. They set out to damage Christianity. I am not interested in that at all. I’m not an atheist and I’m not anti-Christian. But I do happen to conclude that, on the evidence, it is most likely that the figure of Jesus of Nazareth is mythic rather than historical. I might be wrong about that, but on the evidence I think it is the case.

Question: But other scholars – or most scholars – would say that the evidence confirms an historical Jesus, yes?

Answer: Yes. I think – it is arguable – that the evidence is best explained by assuming that the figure of Jesus is essentially mythic. Although, you know, finally I have to say I am agnostic about it, and I think everyone should be. Because we are discussing a local event 2000+ years ago in what was effectively a war zone. So what can we know for sure? I read the evidence one way. But it is, by the nature of things, impossible to be sure. That will always be the case. So we should always be prepared to change our views. I have a firm view, but I’m always prepared to change my views, because I could be wrong. Although dogma - Christian dogma - complicates even that. Christian dogma, Christian metaphysics, depends upon the Incarnation. It's a Christological issue. 

Question: Did your study of the problem of the historical Jesus fit comfortably with your other work and studies?

Answer: Not always. In Biblical Studies I determined to study the most extremely opposing possible positions. Ultra-traditional and ultra-radical. Personally, I saw it as a type of mental yoga. Stretching. On the other hand, my doctoral thesis concerned Plato's story of Atlantis. In that context I was always engaged with problems of myth and history, muthos and logos. It is an exactly related problem. I adopt Plato's rationalism, but also his play. Is Christianity the Noble Lie? I say that as a genuine question, from a Platonic platform, not as a swipe at Christianity.

Question: Not being anti-Christian. Is that one of the ways your views have changed?

Answer: No. No. I’ve never been anti-Christian. Although I have been, and still am, anti historical religion. I don’t subscribe to historical religion, in general. But that doesn’t mean I am anti-Christian, as such, except in as much as Christianity has a strong emphasis on historicity. But I do not have an anti-Christian agenda, whereas many people who propose the Jesus-as-myth theory do. They have a grievance with Christianity – usually in an American context – and they see the Jesus-as-myth theory as a way of damaging Christianity. I have never been party to that. Although, you know, we live in an era of deconstruction. We're not building anything. We are taking things apart. In my case, it is reluctant. 

Question: But your support for a Jesus-as-myth interpretation helps that causes, doesn’t it?

Answer: It does. Which is unfortunate. I regret that. I regret that holding that position – a historical position – gives succor to atheists and God-haters. The Jesus-as-myth community of scholars and researchers is populated by such people. Largely, I don’t have anything to do with them. I am intolerant of atheists. I’m not an atheist, and I think it is lame to conclude from an historical argument about Jesus of Nazareth that there is no God. That is another issue. As it happens, on the evidence, I think the Jesus story is essentially mythic. It is unfortunate that this grates against normative Christianity, and I regret the fact that it might undermine the faith of some people. Because, for some people, some Christians, their faith is built on an historical Jesus. I regret that my views on that topic might erode their faith, which I take to be sincere and honest. I respect religious faith. I have much less respect for skeptics and skepticism and especially activist atheism.

Question: You regret the impact of the theory, but you still subscribe to it?

Answer: As an historical problem, yes. I studied this problem for fifteen or more years, but it was in a secular context. I taught Biblical Studies in a secular context. I always respected the fact it was a secular context. And I saw it as part of my duty to learn the secular sciences, secular history. It was never my job to preach apologetics. I studied the historical problem, Was there a Jesus of Nazareth? I concluded that the figure we meet in the New Testament is most likely a mythical character and not historical. That is my honest estimation of the evidence.

Question: What evidence?

Answer: There is not much of it. There is a finite amount of textual and archeological evidence. You look over the evidence and then come to your conclusion. My conclusion is that the Jesus story was originally mythological, but it has been fixed to a history, made historical. That is a much better explanation of the facts than having it the other way around, namely that it was a history that became mythicized. It is one or the other. I cannot escape the conclusion that it was first myth and was then historicized.

Question: By whom? And why?

Answer: The short answer to that question must be – by the Romans. Why is a more complex question, but in part it must have been a deliberate creation – an outcome, in part, of Roman propaganda wars with Jewish rebels in the Jewish wars. This claim needs to be carefully argued, of course, but I think it is basically correct. In any case, it means that Christianity was – from the outset – inextricably Roman. I am led, in this regard, to very Catholic positions, in some ways.

Question: How? What do you mean?

Answer: The Protestant position is that Jesus the Galilean – his religion, his cult – was taken over by the Romans. You had a Judean/Galilean history and then it was hijacked by the Romans and thus the Roman Church. That is the Protestant position. My view is that Christianity was Roman from its inception. The Church was first. And first it was guardian of a mythology, and then this mythology was made into a history. It was made to fit into a history. By Romans. The Church is really a continuation of certain aspects of the Roman civil service – but that’s another matter. I don’t care to argue the details of it here.

Question: No? Why not?

Answer: Because we are discussing its implications, not the theory itself. Of course, it is a theory and only a theory. It might be wrong. I’m reasonably confident it is right. It is the best explanation of the evidence. It is historically cogent. But this is a very problematic fact for Christians, of course, because it is impossible for Christians to accept a merely mythic Jesus. There is the doctrine of the Incarnation. It is a dogma. It is theologically indispensable. Christians will rightly resist the theory with everything they have. They must. Although it is perhaps not as difficult for Catholics – and Orthodox – as for Protestants. Those whose faith is based in history, in the idea that Christianity is historical, will have greatest trouble accommodating such a theory.

Question: But I don’t see how Christianity could be the outcome of ‘Roman propaganda’ as you put it.

Answer: I don’t put it exactly like that. No. Christianity is the product of a mighty battle, a collision of civilizations, the acute focus of which were the Jewish Wars. These were terrible, epoch-making events. It was not a casual exercise by some Roman propagandist. I am not suggesting that. But the New Testament is Roman literature, all the same. And the image of Jesus as the peaceful Jew – the antithesis of the Jewish militant – is a Roman construction. It is all based around historical events, of course. Especially the destruction of the Temple. And there may be a germ of history in the person of Jesus. But the core is the Logos doctrine. It is largely taken from Philo Judaeus. And then in the gospels it becomes history. Especially the Gospel of Luke. You can see how it is historicized. It was myth first, history later. 

Question: A clash of civilisations?

Answer: Yes. We ned to expand the context, our view of the context. Think of the Trojan War. Europe clashes with Asia. And think of how that conflict created a type of cultural overflow in myth and literature. Think of its place in Western civilization. The inception of Christianity is the same. Second Temple Judaism. It is an historical watershed. It gives birth to Christianity. Somehow. It is a mysterious process. It gives birth to Christian sanctity. It is the same clash, really. Europe clashes with Asia. We can say what we like about the grubby facts of history but somehow, out of those ancient events, Christian sanctity was born. I believe in Christian sanctity. Christianity is a sacred religion. Christian sanctity is a reality. It is mysterious how such a sacred thing can be born from the sordid processes of human history. I might hold certain views about history, but I am still mystified.

Question: Surely the Romans were anti-Christian?

Yes. And there is a very obvious and dramatic way in which Christianity is anti-Roman. I am very aware of it. The Crucifixion. Surely the lesson of the crucifixion is that Roman power is impotent. You can take a man and torture him and crucify him, but Christ has a moral victory over Roman brutality. That is the great lesson of the Crucifixion. In an obvious way, this is anti-Roman. It undermines Roman power. Doesn’t it? So I admit that aspects of Christianity are certainly anti-Roman, deeply anti-Roman, and no doubt the Roman establishment was anti-Christian, up to a point. So it is a complex matter. I have ideas on it, that I have formed over years, but I won’t elaborate on it all now. I want to explore the question of what Christianity does if it settles on the fact that Christ was not a historical figure. Is that possible? Is it something that can even be thought? 

Question: So you also reject the reality of the miracles described in the Gospels?

Answer: They are a good example of how to read the Christian writings in context. The context is Second Temple Judaism. When Jesus "heals" people in the Gospels, what it is about is making such people ritually clean for the Temple. He "heals" Jewish exclusivism. The lame. The lepers. The defiled. He heals them. This is a metaphor for making them whole under the Law and suitable for the Temple. But in the Gospels these are presented as quasi-historical events. It's an extended metaphor - healing - but it is presented as quasi-historical events. I don't take them literally. It is a metaphor, and one of which the Romans would approve since Jesus breaks down Jewish exclusivity. I like the way these matters offer an arena in which to discuss important things. One cannot help but be a cultural Christian in some ways. 

Question: And the Resurrection?

The best way to look at early Christianity is as a continuation of pre-Christian religion. It is also a breach. For example, it claims historicity. This is perceived to make it superior to mere myth. Christian polemic draws the distinction between Christ - who was real - and, say, Apollo, who was just a myth. It is important in Christian identity visa vis its pagan environment. All the same, pagan themes are continued in Christianity. The resurrection is one of them. In Christianity, though, it is not a myth but an historical event. That claim to history is crucial to Christianity. So, if we determine that Christ was essentially mythical, and that what we have here is historical myth, then that presents a real problem for normative Christianity. It must.

Question: How could you have a Christianity without Jesus?

Answer: There is Jesus, and then there is Christ. The Christ. The Logos. There are the two natures of Christ. God and man. But, of course, they are utterly inseparable in any normative Christian theology. The Incarnation is a dogma of Christianity. I like to distinguish, though, between an historical Christianity – which is really only a recent thing – and a cosmic Christianity. You can distinguish between the cosmic Christ and the supposed historical man. It is the historical man that becomes problematic, because historically what you find is a mythology. It has no impact on Christ as Logos, as a metaphysical reality. And for most of history that is all that mattered to Christians. The obsession with the historical Jesus is a modern preoccupation. That fact then becomes interesting. The entire question of the historical Christ in relation to the cosmic Christ, and historical religion, becomes an acute issue.

Question: Why are you opposed to historical religion?

Answer: Historical religion is a hardening, a coarsening of the religious life. My ideas on this are based, mainly, in such writers as Mircea Eliade, and Henri Corbin. For both of them, they identify historicity as a symptom of spiritual decay. But of course some religions want to present themselves as historical. The Abrahamic religions, mainly. I tend to think that all historical religions rest upon shaky history, if you are thinking in hard-nosed secular terms. Was there a man named Moses? Was the parting of the Red Sea an historical event? Noah’s Ark? I think you need to understand those things as mythic, or not at all. Alternatively, you are left with fundamentalist literalism. Fundamentalism is historical. The fundamentalist has lost the mythic sense altogether. That represents a hardening of consciousness. And unintelligent religion.

Question: So you don’t think Moses was historical either?

Answer: Or Noah. Or Adam and Eve. Or the Buddha, for that matter. I have not studied it but I suspect that the Buddha is largely if not wholly a mythic figure. This is not such a great problem, not in Mahayana Buddhism anyway. But in Christianity the historical nature of Christ is a matter of dogma, so it is a profound problem. Buddhism could easily adjust to a non-historical Buddha. I’m inclined to adopt a general policy of doubt regarding historical claims. I don’t believe the historical claims of Moses, or even King David. Or the Buddha. Or Lao Tse either. Lao Tse is almost certainly mythical. But this does not present any real problem in Taoism. We’ve reached a certain impasse today whereby we can see that much of our history – especially the historical claims of religious figures – much of our history is fabricated, or at least mythological rather than solid fact. I think that situation extends into the roots of Christianity. You either understand it as mythic or you fail to understand it at all. I entertain some radical views on history.

Question: Such as what?

Answer: Such as, suspecting that the works of Aristotle are late Roman forgeries, and that in fact the Romans invented the figure of Aristotle. That is, admittedly, a speculative conclusion, but I put it out as a possibility. I think Aristotle is probably a Roman phony. It is one of my crank ideas.

Question: The Romans again?

Answer: Indeed. Two great Roman projects – Aristotle and Jesus. The extent to which our civilization is Roman. Roman power. I see Roman power as adamantine. A force of nature. It completely shaped the world. And history. Don’t underestimate just how fantastically literate were the Romans. And their genius was in ‘foreign’ projects – the acquisition of Greek philosophy in Aristotle and the acquisition of Jewish sanctity in Christianity. The Romans are a special case. But, in general, I think most of our religious figures – and some of our philosophical ones – are creations, fictions, myths. Most of our religious heroes, in fact.

Question: Muhammad? Is Muhammad an historical figure?

Answer: Most likely, in his case. But not necessarily. And if so, then he is a shadowy Dark Age warlord. The historical Muhammad. He is, in any case, very, very different to the Muhammad constructed in the Hadith literature and in Islamic piety. There is no historical basis for the conventional image and hagiography of the Prophet. That is all a pious fiction. So the question becomes, what do we do about that? Now that our religions stand naked in the cold light of history, what do we make of them? That is the problem. Atheism is not a legitimate answer. It is a betrayal of the human state. I do not want to offer any ammunition to atheism. But historical religion is unsustainable. As I say, this is an especially acute problem for Christianity. I am sensitive to that problem. I take no pleasure in it. But it cannot be avoided all the same. The abyss is real. You can’t skirt around it. You can only confront it.

Question: But at least, for Muslims, Muhammad is – you say – an historical figure.

Answer: Most likely so. In the case of Muhammad the weight of probabilities favors historicity. Yes. But at the same time, most of the record of early Islam is fabrication. For example, the Prophet’s mosque. All the hadith about the Prophet’s mosque. The institution of the mosque comes much later, in fact. So the Prophet’s mosque was not historical. It is mythic. In any case, what are we to do with a story like the Night Journey, on the mythical beast, the buraq? How is that to be understood? Literally? As history? Or as myth? The Islamic construction of Muhammad is mythic even if, in his case, there was likely an historical figure upon whom it was based.

Question: The Koran?

Answer: The Angel Jibreel put it in the heart of the Prophet Muhammad in a cave one night in Ramadan. Are we to believe that as history? Or as myth? If we say it is “true” – what do we mean, exactly? What mode of truth, exactly? No doubt the text of the Koran has a human history and it is at odds with its sacred history. Muslims are not ready to face that fact. The simplistic binary myth/history is inadequate in religion.

Question: Are Christians ready to do away with the historical Jesus?

Answer: No. Not at all. But there it is, all the same. When the Protestant iconoclasts set out on the quest for the historical Jesus, they have to pursue it wherever the evidence may take them. I happen to think that the evidence leads to a shocking conclusion. In the past it was not such a problem for Christians. Not in the same way as now. That is interesting in itself. It was not such an acute problem in previous eras.

Question: Why not?

Answer: Because the spiritual reality of Christ completely overwhelmed the historical facts. History was dwarfed by a metaphysical sense of Christ as Logos. The sense of (Godless) history develops with modernity. You can see it in depictions of the Crucifixion, for example. In the early icons Christ on the cross is a metaphysical deity. Only after the Renaissance, with humanism, Christ becomes an historical person on the cross, suffering as a real man. There is a shift into history. It becomes an event in history rather than an event in eternity. That is the difference. A cosmic Christ lives in eternity. He is born in eternity. He dies in eternity. He is resurrected in eternity. It is an eternal, timeless story. But as soon as you place it in time you enter historical consciousness. That is where we are today. And now we can see the threads of the history, because we have lost sight of eternity. The net result of this is that we need a much more sophisticated doctrine of the Incarnation.

Question: And yet, you say, somebody – the Romans – historicized the Christ myth in the first century. Isn’t that what you are saying?

Answer: Yes. Because the Romans had a foreshadowing of that modern historical perspective. And Christianity had to define itself contra the mythic religions of the pagans. So it takes an historical form. The Romans were busy creators of historical myths. They readily turned myths into history. They were expert at it. And, we might say, that historical consciousness was subsumed – drawn into – a sacred perspective in Christianity. There are many ways we might think about it. It is a very complex thing. What is the relation between myth and history? That is a complex question. The skeptic, the atheist, thinks that Christianity was an historical fraud. That view is based on a simplistic binary scheme whereby myth and history are opposites, like lies and truth. We need other, more sophisticated models in order to think constructively about these things. Because something is a “myth” doesn’t make it a lie. The myth is a different mode of truth. If you are insensitive to myth then you are not likely to understand much about religion. Many religions are inherently mythic.

Question: Such as what?

Answer: Types of Hinduism, say. Or the Australian aborigines. If the scholars prove, from the archeological record, that there was no Giant Rainbow Serpent or Dreamtime, the Australian aborigines are not going to go through a spiritual crisis about it. It does not depend upon history. But Christianity does. And yet, I'm afraid, our history is radically different to the official version, or the received version. So what do we do about that? Let us just suppose that the Jesus-myth position is correct. What do we do then? I'm not a Christian and so it is not my place to think it through for Christianity. But it is a problem in contemporary religion. It is a possibility that Christians ought to address. The issue always takes us back to the myth/history dynamic in religion. The problem lies with the doctrine of the Incarnation. We need a non-historical mode of thinking about it. 

Question: Is this what you taught in Biblical Studies?

Answer: No. I offered a wide range of viewpoints to students. Including ultra-conservative. The Jesus-as-myth theory was only offered as one possibility. I never used my university position as a soap-box to promote my own views. I am opposed to activist academics who do that. But the mythicist position is a legitimate one and it ought to be offered to students, especially in a secular university. 

Question: Are some Christian denominations better poised to deal with it as a possibility than others? You mentioned Catholics...

Answer: Yes. Traditional Christianity is better placed to deal with it. The Catholics. The Orhodox. Whereas the historical Christ is much more important in Protestantism. So it is a problem for Protestants - just as the issue - the Jesus quest, as they call it - arises out of Protestantism. Rather than finding the Galilean peasant carpenter that we thought we'd find, we find an early Christianity that is much more Roman, much more based in tradition and myth, theological from the outset.

* * * 

This post marks the untimely death, from cancer, of D. M. Murdock, a well-known popularizer of the Jesus Myth theory. Since the present author is known to entertain similar views on that subject, he publishes the above discussion in order to clarify his position on a controversial topic. 

Yours,

Harper McAlpine Black

Here in Time - Eckhardt's Christmas Sermon

In celebration of Christmas, the following sermon by Meister Eckhardt is offered as a paradigm of spiritual clarity. It is often presented as the first of the Meister's sermons when they are found in collections. It begins with the memorable words "Here in time...", perhaps the best opening to a sermon...

For while all things were in quiet silence and the night was in the midst of her course…(Wisdom of Solomon 18:14-15)

* * * 

Here in time we make holiday because the eternal birth which God the father bore and bears unceasingly in eternity is now born in time, in human nature. Saint Augustine says this birth is always happening. But if it does not happen in me, what does it profit me? What matters is that it shall happen in me.

We intend therefore to speak of this birth as taking place in us, as being consummated in the virtuous soul, for it is in the perfect soul that God speaks his word. What I shall say is true only of the devout man, of him who has walked and is still walking in the way of God, not of the natural undisciplined man who is entirely remote from and unconscious of this birth.

There is a saying of the wise man, “When all things lay in the midst of silence, then leapt there down into me from on high, from the royal throne, a secret word.” This sermon is about this word.

Concerning it three things are to be noted. The first is where in the soul God the father speaks his Word, where she is receptive of this act, where this birth occurs. The second, has to do with man’s conduct in relation to this act, this interior speaking, this birth. The third point will deal with the profit, and how great it is, that accrues form this birth.

Note in the first place that in what I am about to say I intend to use natural proofs that you yourselves can grasp, for though I put more faith in the scriptures than myself, nevertheless it is easier and better for you to learn by arguments that can be verified.

First we will take the words, “In the midst of the silence there was spoken in me a secret word.” But, sir, where is the silence and where the place in which the word is spoken?

To begin with, it is spoken in the purest, noblest ground, yes, in the very center of the soul. That is mid-silence, for no creature ever entered there, nor any image, nor has the soul there either activity of understanding, therefore she is not aware of any image either of herself or any creature. Whatever the soul effects, she effects with her powers. When she understands, she understands with her intellect. When she remembers, she does so with her memory. When she loves, she does so with her will. She works then with her powers and not with her essence.

Now every exterior act is linked with some means. The power of seeing is brought into play only through the eyes; elsewhere she can neither do nor bestow such a thing as seeing. And so with all the other senses; their operations are always effected through some means or other. But there is no activity in the essence of the soul; the faculties she works with emanate from the ground of the essence, but in her actual ground there is mid-silence; here alone is a rest and habitation for this birth, this act, wherein God the father speaks his word, for she is intrinsically receptive of nothing but the divine essence, without means. Here God enters the soul with his all, not merely with a part. God enters the ground of the soul.

None can touch the ground of the soul but God. No creature is admitted into her ground, it must stop outside in her powers. There it sees the image whereby it has been drawn in and found shelter. For when the soul’s powers contact a creature, they set out to make of the creature an image and likeness which they absorb. By it they know the creature. Creatures cannot enter the soul, nor can the soul know anything about a creature whose image she has not willingly taken into herself. She approaches creatures through their present images, an image being a thing that the soul creates with her powers. Be it a stone, a rose, a person, or anything else she wants to know about, she gets out the image of it which she has already taken in and thus is able to unite herself with it. But an image received in this way must of necessity enter from without through the senses. Consequently, there is nothing so unknown to the soul as herself. The soul, says the philosopher, can neither create nor absorb an image of herself. So she has nothing to know herself by. Images all enter through the senses, hence she can have no image of herself. She knows other things but not herself. Of nothing does she know so little as herself, owing to this arrangement.

Now you must know that inwardly the soul is free from means and images; that is why God can freely unite with her without form or image. You cannot but attribute to God without measure whatever power you attribute to a master. The wiser and more powerful the master, the more immediately is his work effected and the simpler it is. Man requires many instruments for his external works; much preparation is needed before he can bring them forth as he has imagined them. The sun and moon, whose work is to give light, in their mastership perform this very swiftly: the instant their radiance is poured forth, all the ends of the earth are filled with light. More exalted are the angels, who need fewer means for their works and have fewer images. The highest Seraph has but a single image. He seizes as a unity all that his inferiors regard as manifold. Now God needs no image and has no image: without image, likeness, or means does God work in the soul, in her ground wherein no image ever entered other than himself with his own essence. This no creature can do.

How does God the father give birth to his son in the soul? Like creatures, in image and likeness? No, by my faith, but just as he gives him birth in eternity and not otherwise.

Well, but how does he give him birth there?

See, God the father has perfect insight into himself, profound and thorough knowledge of himself by means of himself, not by means of any image. And thus God the father gives birth to his son in the very oneness of the divine nature. Thus it is, and in no other way, that God the father gives birth to his son in the ground and essence of the soul, and thus he unites himself with her. Were any image present, there would be no real union, and in real union lies true bliss.

Now you may say: “But there is nothing innate in the soul but images.” No, not so! If that were true, the soul would never be happy, but God made every creature to enjoy perfect happiness, otherwise God would not be the highest happiness and final goal, whereas it is his will and nature to be the alpha and omega of all. No creature can be happiness. And here indeed can just as little be perfection, for perfection (perfect virtue, that is to say) results from perfection of life. 

Therefore you truly must sojourn and dwell in your essence, in your ground, and there God shall mix you with his essence without the medium of any image. No image represents and signifies itself: it stands for that of which it is the image. Now seeing that you have no image other than what is outside you, therefore it is impossible for you to be beatified by any image whatsoever.

Yours, at Christmas 2015,from the holy city of Benares,

Harper McAlpine Black