The scripture for today was the section in Mark 10 where James and John ask for the places of honor next to Jesus when he comes into his glory. Many Christians read that as if James and John were asking to be next to Jesus in heaven, but of course at the time neither expected Jesus’ death, instead expecting Jesus to soon be ruler of an independent Israel (unless you believe the story was made up later, but I think the story has its roots in history — it’s too easy to see the disciples bickering over places with Jesus).

Anyway, Jesus says that James and John will indeed share his “cup” and “baptism”. I think a key point here is that when Jesus says his disciples will share his cup and baptism, he’s talking about all his disciples, including those of us down through history. Jesus participated in the travails of this life, and he experienced the wrath of evil coming down on his head, like we do during our lives. Evil took its toll on Jesus, but his resurrection proved that evil will not ultimately win out. Jesus’ experience can help us prevail during our lives, especially when we feel defeated by the world.

I’m reading Bart Ehrman’s latest book, Jesus, Interrupted, where he explicitly says he’s an agnostic and wants to spread the word to church lay people about historical-critical methods for the Bible. I don’t think he’ll have much luck reaching all those evangelicals he’s targeting.

Anyway, he describes the apocalyptic nature of Jesus’ message pretty well. The idea was common in first-century Palestine that God would soon intervene directly and overthrow evil (for them, typically the Romans). Ehrman says John the Baptist preached essentially that message, and that Jesus followed him in that message.

Jesus indeed had a similar message, but the big difference was that he saw that God’s intervention comes in an unexpected way. Jesus didn’t attempt to lead a rebellion or even bring on God’s action in any direct way. He instead saw that God acts indirectly, behind the scenes. God acts directly in certain times and places in this age. The most direct act was Jesus’ own death and resurrection: that is the primary sign that God is working to overthrow evil and death.

I had heard and read previously about mirror neurons, where brain activity has been detected when a person observes another person having an experience with strongly emotional content, such as suffering violence. Now I’ve been reading The Naked Brain by neurologist and author Richard Restak (2007). He points out that when we observe another person’s movements, our brain can have activity in the same area that the other person used during the movement. He cites the example of drinking tea – if we watch another person reach out and grasp a cup, and then sip and savor the tea, our brain will have activity where tea-drinker has activity. I think this discovery demonstrates that we can be connected to others in deeper ways than we might have expected. It shows how humans (and even other animals) experience empathy in a literal way.

I read the volume The Resurrection of Jesus (ed. R. Stewart, 2006) recently, a compilation from a seminar about the dialog between John Dominic Crossan and N.T. Wright. Even the representatives from the more conservative schools discussed the work of Jesus in terms of overcoming evil, rather than as a payment to God for sins. It appears that most scholarship is coming around to this view. I’ll probably focus more on the other major topic of this blog, about how empathy derives from the mind’s ability to see the views of others, and how that explains our relationships to each other.

I just finished reading Gary Wills’ book What Paul Meant. He makes a pretty good case that the Paul most people think of isn’t really the Paul of his letters. He points out that much of the bad press comes out of letters Paul probably didn’t actually write. Most obvious are the comments on women in the letters to Timothy and Titus. Wills then dives into the world of Paul, trying to frame the letters from the perspective of how and why they were written. Much of Paul’s writing was aimed at the controversies between two camps of believers in Jesus: the ones coming from a Jewish background and the ones from a non-Jewish background. Paul saw himself as one sent to the latter group, and tried to keep the former group from insisting that the non-Jewish followers take up all the practices of the Jewish followers.

Wills says Paul didn’t see himself as founding a new religion, or as converting others. Instead Paul saw himself as one who was anticipating and perhaps hurrying the coming of the kingdom of God. Paul didn’t intend to convert individuals to his religion. Instead, he wanted to get the word out that Jesus’ actions brought the entire world to God. I gathered from the book that Wills doesn’t think people need to be “saved”. God has already saved the world. Paul just needed to let people know. Wills doesn’t use the term universalism, but that seems to be what it boils down to. I agree with him (or did I read it into his book!?).

Wills’ description of Paul’s letters and world also suggest that Paul didn’t take the satisfaction-atonement view that later writers (Augustine, etc.) would read into him. I find that very interesting and something to explore in Paul’s letters in more detail.

Charles Freeman, in his book The Closing of the Western Mind, makes a good argument for the influence of politics on Christian thinking, especially in the fourth century. Up until this time, for instance, the majority of Christians had not regarded Jesus as equal with God (“of the same substance”). The Nicean doctrine was enforced by political support of Constantine and the Roman state. Once Christianity began to be supported by the state, it became necessary to define who were the legitimate authorities of the church. Freeman speculates (p. 169 of paperback edition) that Constantine favored the Nicean position because it puts Jesus in a more divine position, as opposed to a distinct person separate from God. Jesus’ message in the Gospel was less compatible with the militant nature of the Roman emperor’s position, so endorsing a view of Jesus like the Arian view might have undercut his own position. Whatever his motivation, Freeman makes it clear that early Christians did not generally take the position that came out of the Nicean creed.

I’ve been reading more on early Christian thought, such as in Bart Ehrman’s Lost Christianities. The question I’ve been pondering is: why did the church end up with the conclusion that it was Christ’s death that reconciles us to God, rather than the original message that Christ’s resurrection evidences God’s victory? My current thinking is that it must relate to the way the Jewish concepts of God and faith were translated into the Greek and Roman world.

Ehrman points out the main (as far as we know them) branches of early Christians: the Jewish camp (Ebionites), the Gnostics, the Marcionites, and the “proto-orthodox”. The Ebionites did not endorse the concept of the Trinity, instead seeing Jesus as being “adopted” into a special relationship to God, perhaps as of his baptism. This was probably the earliest view of most Christians. It was only when Christians began to adopt the position that Jesus’ death is what reconciles us to God that they concluded that only the death of God could provide the necessary qualities to “appease” God’s wrath (plenty of circular logic in that, but there you are).

The Marcionites rejected the creator god of the Hebrews, along with his creation as evil, believing that Jesus revealed a different God of salvation. Gnostics were somewhat similar, but believed God was revealed through Christ, who temporarily inhabited the body of the physical Jesus, abandoning him at the crucifixion. They believed they would be saved through the knowledge emparted by Christ, not through his actions.

It may have been in reaction to these groups that the proto-orthodox came to their ideas about Jesus/Christ’s sacrifice. I will have more to say on this in future posts.

The heart of “critical thinking” is the process of determining the writer/speaker’s intentions, motives and agenda. I am amused when someone watches a film or show where the story ends without wrapping up some details of the story line (what happened to this character?). Of course in a fictional story, nothing further happened to the character, because the character exists only in the author’s imagination. But people often treat these stories as if they were real. In other words, they haven’t gotten behind the story to see the reality. It’s fine to get absorbed in a story, but we shouldn’t get trapped into thinking the story has to be complete.

This situation gets more serious with political issues. Democracies are based on the idea that voters are able to make informed choices. But politicians often make speeches that obscure their true thoughts and agenda. Voters who accept what politicians say at face value, without thinking about what the real motives of the politician are, cannot make informed choices. It’s unfortunately too often true that this leads to politicians being rewarded for deceptive presentations of themselves and their policies, which reinforces this bad behavior. The current Bush administration in the United States has been a particularly insidious example of this practice–using patriotic language to justify policies that undermine the fundamental freedoms and fortunes of societies at home and abroad.

Our educational institutions need to teach the ability to see behind proclaimed motives. This is an essential part of a free society. Unfortunately, recent educational policies like “No Child Left Behind” have detracted from the teaching of critical thinking–these policies see education as simply teaching rote ability to add and read (with poor results even at that). Education needs to keep at the forefront the broad goal of teaching people how to think.

The original Lord’s prayer, as recorded by Matthew (6:9-13), ends with “And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.” The traditional ending, tacked on later, adds “…for thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, forever, amen.” The original ending must have seemed abrupt to some readers. But it is interesting that the original ending focuses our attention on the struggle we have with evil, both within ourselves and in the world around us. We shouldn’t try to smooth over those conflicts that we face, so perhaps the original form should be the one we use when we do say it!

Apparently the cross was not adopted as a symbol of Christianity until around the fourth century. I doubt this was because Christians were embarrassed by the cross. Instead, it may be in line with the original central concept of Christianity, which was that God’s resurrection of Christ was the first fruit of God’s ultimate victory. Jesus’ death on the cross was the result of evil’s fury unleashed against him. The cross was part of the overall scope of history in which in God will triumph. But it did not need to be a central theme for Christians…at least not until the church adopted the “satisfaction” theory of Jesus.