The Next Step in Religion: An Essay toward the Coming Renaissance

by Roy Wood Sellars

The pragmatic and æsthetic qualities of a story do not guarantee its historical truth. In fact, research has shown that practically all the most charming anecdotes which have come down to us will not stand critical examination. The historian of Christianity is well aware of this situation. The general movement of enlightened religious thought from the more mythical element to the career of Jesus, while it bears witness to a more wide-spread interest in his personality, also testifies to a growing doubt of the validity of the theological constructions which have been woven around his figure. We wish to know, if possible, exactly what he thought and taught. Were we able to determine this, we feel that much of the distorting atmosphere would be withdrawn. But is not this, itself, one of those deluding hopes which the attitude of compromise fosters? Do we not know in our heart of hearts that the beliefs of Jesus reflected the beliefs of his time, just as the beliefs of Kant or Luther are functions of the ages in which they lived? But we have here an hypothesis which can be tested by historical data. Were the views of Jesus like those of his age? Nothing has come out more clearly than just this fact.

Let us see what has resulted from this close study of the sources. We must remember that books were not published in ancient days as they are at present. Manuscripts passed from hand to hand, and individuals added to them, or altered them, or combined them as they saw fit. Plagiarism did not have the meaning it has now when authors live on the proceeds of the sale of their books. Besides, it was quite the custom to attach names to manuscripts at pleasure or in accordance with tradition. Our modern critical attitude had not arisen—for obvious reasons. Besides, it was difficult to secure copies of manuscripts. For instance, Papias, bishop of Hierapolis in Phrygia toward the middle of the second century, believed that there was an Aramaic gospel according to Matthew, but he was unable to get a glimpse of it and had to trust to the oral tradition of his time. To bring this situation home: suppose we had to rely on the oral tradition still lingering in regard to the life of Washington, how certain would we be of its authenticity? Why, there are already myths in regard to the life of Mary Baker Eddy! In olden days, myths sprang up like mushrooms. Only too many varieties were at hand to choose from.

Scholars are pretty certain that the present Matthew is not a translation of an Aramaic original. Moreover, the present Matthew breaks up into separate parts conflicting with one another quite extensively, and is full of insertions of a comparatively late date. Only after the gospel has been radically revised are we likely to be near an old tradition of the life and deeds of Jesus.

While we are on the topic of the authenticity of the gospels, it may be worth while to discuss the other synoptics as briefly as possible. The majority of critics regard Mark as the oldest but this is mere guesswork when all is said and done. In its present form it is briefer than the others and this fact has impressed many students. Besides, it does not contain an account of the infancy of Jesus. But it, itself, is evidently a compilation of other documents since it repeats the same event in slightly different forms. In all probability, it was written in Greek for a Hellenistic audience and emphasizes those traditions which would be the most likely to impress its readers. It is not known who wrote it or exactly when it was written.

The gospel according to Luke did not originally make any claim to have been written by Luke. Scholars are agreed from internal evidence that it could not have been written until long after the fall of Jerusalem in 70 A.D. The author of Luke was acquainted with the Antiquities of Josephus and this shows that he must have made his compilation and free reworking of traditions in the second century.

If, then, our gospels were not written by eye-witnesses, and represent the beliefs and traditions of at least the next half-century after the death of Jesus, to what can we give credence? What is myth and legend and what is historic fact? Can we find a clew to guide us?

It is a canon among historical critics to regard those passages as the oldest which conflict most with the outlook of the later centuries. We can understand why they happen to be there but there would be no good reason for their later creation and insertion. Let us try to determine whither this canon will lead us.

All scholars agree that the birth stories are a later addition. They are a product of Hellenistic beliefs, perhaps even of Hindoo influences. The Virgin-Mother myth was very common in ancient times and the whole machinery of the story was undoubtedly absorbed from tales widely current in those days. For instance, the father of Plato, the Greek philosopher, was warned in a dream by Apollo so that Plato was virgin-born. What can we think of the intellectual state of Churches which excommunicate ministers who have the decency to inform their congregation what disinterested scholarship has determined? So far as there is intellectual dishonesty or incompetence here, it will bring its own punishment in the attitude adopted by sincere men toward the Churches. The best we can say, then, is that there is no very good reason to doubt that Jesus was the son of a carpenter, by the name of Joseph, and his wife, Mary. He was not the only child, for Mark represents his fellow townsmen as saying: "Is not this the carpenter, the son of Mary, and brother of James and Joses and Judas and Simon? And are not his sisters here with us?" Quite a goodly family, you see. The Ebionite Christians, who were the Christians of Palestine and probably had the safest traditions on this point, believed that Jesus "was the son of Joseph and Mary according to the ordinary course of human generation." His kinsmen were the leaders of the Christian community for several generations. But there is little use in laboring a point which is so obvious.

Of his early life we know practically nothing. He was probably not trained as a rabbi but worked at the trade of his father. We may assume that he knew how to read and write, since an opportunity to learn was usually offered in the synagogue. It is likely that his reading was largely confined to the religious literature of his people, especially the psalms and the prophets. His spirit was more in harmony with the deep ethical fervor of these champions of righteousness and lovers of justice than with the formal prescriptions of the Law. If we may judge from the general tone of the traditions, he was a close student of men and a lover of nature, a silent, reflective man who noted the events passing around him. His youth passed in this way without any overt step being taken; and, perhaps, without any clear message having developed in his mind. He was simply one of the dissatisfied few who are always to be found. Now and then, it may be, he spoke passionate words against the evils that were apparent on every hand, quoted the prophets in their outbursts against similar evils and subsided into a brooding silence. There are many such in our land to-day, sincere and passionate and kindly men who eat their heart out witnessing the course of events.