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Religion Christianity: Conceptions and misconceptions

sabro said:
The point about belief then is two fold: 1. Do you believe in God? 2. Do you like the cirmcumstances he has created? If you answer no to #2, than you immediately reassess #1?
That's pretty much the way it was for me.
sabro said:
I guess the difference was that I was a late convert. It doesn't seem to me that my "belief" would have any kind of effect on the existence of anything. The objective fact of existence or non-existence is not directly effected by my subjective beliefs. (The truth is, is that the spoon does not exist...)??? If God does indeed exist-- I need only to decide how to respond to Him. If there is no God, then any response is irrelevant.
That almost sounds like you're just hedging your bets.
sabro said:
You're not going to find out which god-model exists through introspection.
I think some people find god through introspection - the kind of god that is inside a person. I think some people believe in that - though it probably wouldn't be a religious god.
 
To answer Sabro, I don't think I ever will know whether a God exists or not, and therefore I see it as irrelevant. As the Bible portrays it, God is an eternal vengeful punisher, which I cannot reconcile with the ideal or love. The apologetics concerning that seeming contradiction add on increasingly confusing questions. Truth to me doesn't need to be any more confusing than it already is. I also find it odd to be living this life in preparation for the next, when it is only within this moment that we can have any power over.
 
Revenant (and to some degree Tsuyoiko) I understand how you feel, but I do disagree. I do think you will find out eventually. I also disagree with your assessment of the Bible's portrayal of God. CS Lewis' "Mere Christianity" does a much better job than I can do of explaining. If I get time, I'll look up the appropriate passages.

As a believer, arguing the existence of God... opinion and introspection doesn't change the objective reality- either something exists or it doesn't and my opinion or anyone else's does not change the fact. Of course objective proof would be quite helpful, and my knowledge of God is entirely subjective. Although I cannot prove His existence, I also cannot prove His non-existence. I guess my answer if you are looking for God, is to not argue the point, because God won't be proven by logical construct, or to look introspectively- but to search for objective proof. (Some of which may have to do with the subjective experiences of others.)
 
Nice comments there by all of you. It is a matter of discussion that can twist a persons neck, as it goes round and round--and yet it's so much fun to go round and round, like at the local amusement park.

Perhaps the concept of 'god-model' was slightly taken in a different form than that which I had had in my mind when I wrote those words; I'm not
sure, but it just looks that way. (I could be wrong.)

Introspection, and I don't think I would need to pull any definitions out of the dictionary for that one, is most obviously an inter-personal act. A scan of the brain, by the brain of that individual subject of that verb. If one considered themself to be a god, then introspection would show them the model; because they would be the personality, acting intelligent agent, and historical referent drawn from or/and understood by that introspection. If one were looking to the outside for a god, one would understand that god by the model that prescribed and described that god. So, you are right sabro. The other voices are correct too, in the angles taken by them on that concept which seems (and I could be wrong) to have been only partially beamed up--using the Star Trek thing.

I like the very rational thinking you are doing there sabro, that's real nice. At the same time, I think it is understood by those who know, that you are talking about the Christian 'god-model'. That's where the point I'd made about god-models comes into play in the discussion raised by the 'do you believe in "God"' question. It's too often taken for granted it seems.

When in Saudia Arabia and asking one if they believed in "God", it would of course be in the context of if they believed in the Muslem god-model, not the Christian god-model, not those of the Jews, the Hindus, or the Buddhists. Therefore, the question of the existence of a god demands the question of which god-model. The question of which god-model demands research, measurement, and reason and testing--primarily against the pasage of time and the acquirement of knowledge.

To test the Jewish god-model, we go to the Jewish databases. To test the Christian god-model, we go to the Christian databases, and so on and so forth for all those god-models that are alive or have long lost appeal to the human mind and imagination. That's the point of that 'god-model' thing.:-) (just in case it was slightly misconstrued)
 
Read this interesting article in the library today. It was featured in Harper's magazine, and I found the same article here. I thought the way Jesus was portrayed made a lot more sense, and fit more closely with plausibility and what I would reason as a truer philosophy.

Copied and pasted here just in case the article disappeared, but it might be easier to just read the link.
Back when the WHAT WOULD JESUS DO bracelets were appearing on the wrists of young people all around the country, I found myself in an argument with an old friend, a fellow Virginian who, like me, is the lapsed son of a Baptist preacher. We had both fallen pretty far, far enough to spend many nights together in the local Irish pub, putting away Guinness and commiserating about how the Church had crippled our spirits and misunderstood our complicated souls. The crux of our argument was over the bracelets' merit and utility. My friend saw them as just another example of hollow piety. For my part, I said it would indeed be a positive step if Christians actually began to follow the teachings of the founder.

Something similar was no doubt on the mind of another Virginian, Thomas Jefferson, when he took a pair of scissors to the King James Bible two hundred years ago. Jefferson cut out the virgin birth, all the miracles?\including the most important one, the Resurrection?\then pasted together what was left and called it The Philosophy of Jesus of Nazareth (fifteen years later, in retirement at Monticello, he expanded the text, added French, Latin, and Greek translations, and called it The Life and Morals of Jesus of Nazareth). In an 1819 letter to William Short, Jefferson recollected that the cut-and-paste job was the work of two or three nights only, at Washington, after getting through the evening task of reading the letters and papers of the day." Jefferson mentioned The Philosophy of Jesus in a few other personal letters, but for the most part he kept the whole matter private, probably guessing that the established Church would see the compilation as one more example of his "atheism." Nor did Jefferson care to give Federalist newspapers another reason to remind him of alleged sexual relations with his slave Sally Herrings, an entanglement certainly out of keeping with the philosophy of Jesus.

But Jefferson's severe redaction was probably a retaliatory act, as much as anything, against priests and ministers?\"soothsayers and necromancers," Jefferson called them?\who had unleashed attacks on his character during the acrimonious presidential election of 1800. Jefferson believed that an authentic Christianity had long ago been hijacked by the Christian Church. The teachings of its founder had become so distorted as to make "one half of the world fools, and the other half hypocrites." Jefferson would no doubt have agreed with Tolstoy that the Christian Church had supplanted the Sermon on the Mount with the Nicene Creed to create a system of beliefs that Jesus himself wouldn't have recognized, much less laid claim to. "I abuse the priests, indeed," Jefferson wrote to Charles Clay in 1815, "who have so much abused the pure and holy doctrines of their Master." By stripping away the gospelers' claim that Jesus was the divine son of God, and by strip-ping away the subsequent miracles they invented to prove it, Jefferson boasted that he had extracted the "diamonds from the dunghill" to reveal the true teaching of Jesus for what it was: "the most sublime and benevolent code of morals which has ever been offered to man."

Up until that point, Jefferson had claimed Epicurus as his patron-philosopher. Two thousand years earlier, Epicurus had taught that life would be much easier to endure if we stopped fearing God and death?\about which we can know and do nothing?\and followed instead a program of prudent self-sufficiency. "Everything easy to procure is natural," Epicurus wrote, "while everything difficult to obtain is superfluous." Such a philosophy certainly would have appealed to Jefferson's agrarian vision for the new American nation. But after suffering the personal attacks of the 1800 campaign, Jefferson discovered that the philosophy of Epicurus didn't go far enough. "Epictetus and Epicurus give laws for governing ourselves," Jefferson wrote to William Short, "Jesus a supplement of the duties and charities we owe to others." Jefferson no doubt felt that not a few people owed him some charity.

Jefferson's tombstone at Monticello does not remind visitors that the deceased was once president of the United States. Rather it states that Jefferson authored the Statute of Virginia for Religious Freedom. So it was fitting that in 1904 the Government Printing Office published 5,000 handsome, leather-bound copies of The Life and Morals of Jesus of Nazareth for the first time, one hundred years after Jefferson pasted it together.

To read the Gospel story?\the "good news"?\through Jefferson's lens is instructive in a number of ways, the least of which is its representation of Jesus' "life." Many New Testament scholars agree that the infancy narratives of Matthew and Luke are pure myth. And no one has solved the mystery of the "missing years"?\the two decades between when Jesus supposedly taught in the temple as a precocious child and when he came ambling along the Jordan river, asking to be baptized by the fiery zealot, John the Baptist. From then until his execution a few years later, Jesus' life was a combination of walking, eating with followers and social outcasts, preaching, fishing a little, telling stories that no one seemed to understand, and offering largely unsolicited diatribes against the powers that be. That is to say, the life of Jesus?\if unconventional?\was nevertheless ordinary enough. Thousands of homeless men and women do pretty much the same thing every day in this country. But to find the historic Jesus within the fabulous accounts of the four Gospel writers is indeed an exercise of looking for diamonds in the compost heap.

Jefferson's gospel could not solve that problem. Nor did it need to. The life of this itinerant preacher was much less important to Jefferson than what he taught. Somebody, after all, spoke the Sermon on the Mount, or on the plain, or wherever it was spoken, and somebody told fascinating parables that explained nothing and left everything up to "he who has ears." What's more, Jefferson's objection to the version of Christianity taught in American churches was precisely that it did put so much more emphasis on Jesus' life and, consequently, his sacrificial death. By excising the Resurrection and Jesus' claims to divinity from his private gospel, Jefferson portrayed an ordinary man with an extraordinary, though improbable, message.

Indeed, reading Jefferson's gospel one hundred years after its publication, it's hard not to become depressed, as did the Rich Young Ruler, about how nearly impossible Jesus' program would be to follow. To read the Gospel of Matthew or Luke is to be dazzled by one miracle after another. In that con-text, the actual teachings seem almost mundane. But to read Jefferson's version (what Beacon Press now publishes as The Jefferson Bible) is to face a relentless demand that we be much better people?\inside and out?\than most of us are. Which leads, as Jefferson must have suspected, to this unfortunate conclusion: the relevance of Christianity to most Americans?\then and now?\has far more to do with the promise of eternal salvation from this world than with any desire to practice the teachings of Jesus while we are here.

But Jefferson's gospel also leads to an impressive clarification of what those teachings are. One can make a list, and it need not be long.

Be just; justice comes from virtue, which comes from the heart.
Treat people the way we want them to treat us.
Always work for peaceful resolutions, even to the point of returning violence with compassion.
Consider valuable the things that have no material value.
Do not judge others.
Do not bear grudges.
Be modest and unpretentious.
Give out of true generosity, not because we expect to be repaid. In all of his teachings, the Jesus that Jefferson recovers has one overarching theme?\the world's values are all upside down in relation to the kingdom of God. Material riches do not constitute real wealth; those whom we think of as the most powerful, the first in the nation-state, are actually the last in the kingdom of God; being true to one's self is more important than being loyal to one's family; the Sabbath is for men, men are not for the Sabbath; those who think they know the most are the most ignorant; the natural economy followed by birds and lilies is superior to the economy based on Caesar's coinage or bankers who charge interest.
Above all, this Jesus cannot abide hypocrites. He has nothing but contempt for men who would kill a woman because of adultery when they themselves have thought about cheating on their wives, or for temple officials who tithe mint and cumin but would do nothing to help a poor woman with a child. "Stop talking about righteousness," this Jesus is saying, "and be righteous." It sounds simple. But of course nothing could be more difficult, as Jefferson's own life illustrates.

In his only book, Notes on the State of Virginia (1787), Jefferson urged readers to resist the factory life of large European cities and stay on the land. "Those who labour in the earth are the chosen people of God, if ever he had a chosen people, whose breasts he has made his peculiar deposit for substantial and genuine virtue," Jefferson wrote in the famous chapter called "Manufactures." Farmers intuit the laws of God within the laws of nature, and so become virtuous, he reasoned. They are, by the nature of their work, resourceful, neighborly, independent. They are the elemental caretakers of the world. Nor do they succumb to the crude opinions of the masses. But the farmer is free-thinking and inquisitive. The manufacturer, by contrast, is a specialist, a cog, a wage slave. "Dependence," Jefferson concluded, "begets subservience and venality, suffocates the germ of virtue, and prepares fit tools for the designs of ambition." A manufacturer cannot be a citizen of a democracy, only a consumer within an oligarchy.

Four years later, Hamilton submitted to Congress his Report on Manufactures, in which he dismissed Jefferson's agrarian vision in favor of developing industry, division of labor, child labor, protective tariffs, and prohibitions on many imported manufactured goods. Today, fewer than 1 percent of Americans work on farms, and many of those are huge, industrial farms that generate massive amounts of toxic by-products. That Jefferson's self-reliant farmer is so unrecognizable to us today is evidence enough, should we need any, that we have inherited Hamilton's America, not Jefferson's.

The difference between Jefferson and Hamilton is the difference between a version of Christianity based on Jesus' life and death and Resurrection, and one based on his teachings. Or to put it another way, it is a difference between where one locates basileia tou theou?\the kingdom of God. Is it, as Luke's gospel says, "in the midst of you" (17:21), or is it, as John's gospel claimed, a reward saved for the sweet hereafter? To live by Jesus' teachings would be to live virtuously as stewards of the land; it would be to create an economy based on compassion, cooperation, and conservation; it would be to preserve the Creation as the kingdom of God. Jefferson was proposing a country of countrysides, a pastorale in which we would want to live; Hamilton was giving us a nation of factories from i which we would want?\perhaps in the end need?\to be saved.

"Thomas" is the Aramaic word for twin. That Thomas Jefferson's version of Christianity actually found a twin gospel?\one that included no miracles, no claims of divinity, but only the teachings of Jesus?\hidden beneath an Egyptian cliff, and that this ancient gospel was also recorded by a man known as Thomas, makes for a remarkable story.

Sometime near the end of the nineteenth century, two British archaeologists, Bernard P. Grenfell and Arthur S. Hunt, were searching through an ancient trash heap along the Nile River, at a site known as Oxyrhynchus, when they found three small papyrus leaves. One of the fragments read, "These are the [ ] sayings [ ] the living Jesus spoke [ ] also called Thomas [ ]." New Testament scholars had long known that there once existed a Gospel of Thomas because in the third century Hippolytus denounced such a text in his Refutation of All Heresies. And because Thomas's gospel ran afoul of the early Church bishops, particularly Irenaeus, most copies of it were likely destroyed.

In 1945, 150 miles upstream near another river town called Nag Hammadi, an Egyptian farmer named Muhammad `Ali al-Samman was guiding his camel beneath the nitrogen-rich cliffs that line the Nile, collecting fertilizer for his fields. As he dug at the base of one cliff, Muhammad `Ali found a sealed jug, obviously ancient. Fearing a jinn but hoping for gold, he broke the jar open with his mattock. He found neither. What fell out were twelve books (codices), made from papyrus and bound in leather. Figuring the manuscripts might be worth something, Muhammad `Ali gathered them up in his turban and carried them home. According to New Testament scholar James M. Robinson, who has pieced this whole story together, Muhammad 'Ali's mother used some of the leaves from the books to ignite their out-door clay oven. Muhammad `Ali traded others for oranges and cigarettes.

Meanwhile, shortly after the discovery, Muhammad `Ali and his brothers hacked to death a man they claimed had killed their father six months earlier. But when local police started poking around, asking about the murder, Muhammad `Ali didn't want to answer any further questions about the codices. Since the manuscripts were written in Coptic, an Egyptian variant of Greek, he hid one at the house of a Coptic priest. The priest, in turn, sent it to Cairo by way of his brother-in-law to ascertain its value on the antiquities market. But someone tipped off Egyptian authorities, who then threatened to take the brother-in-law into custody and told him he could return home only if he sold the codex to the Coptic Museum, which he promptly did.

Here a one-eyed bandit named Bahij `Ali enters the story. Cairo's leading antiquities dealer, Cypriot Phocion J. Tano, had retained Bahij `Ali to acquire as many of the codices as possible. But again, the Egyptian government heard about Tano's acquisitions and pressed him to entrust the manuscripts to the Coptic Museum for "safe keeping." Tano spent much of the 1950s trying unsuccessfully to get the codices back.

In 1952 the French scholar Henri-Charles Puech realized that a tractate in Codex II contained sayings that matched the Oxyrhynchus fragments. Less than sixty years after Grenfell and Hunt uncovered hard evidence that a Gospel of Thomas did at one time exist, Puech was able to conclude that the entire text had been found.

When all of the remaining codices were accounted for, there turned out to he fifty-two separate tractates hidden at Nag Hammadi. How did they end up in this remote port town? In 325 C.E. the Roman Emperor Constantine, newly converted to Christianity, called for a conference of bishops in Nicaea. He charged them to come up with a short document that would unite Christians and eradicate heresy. The result was the Nicene Creed. Forty-two years later, one of the drafters, Athanasius, the bishop of Alexandria, issued a letter to Egyptian monks calling for all heretical manuscripts to be destroyed.1 Scholars suspect that monks at the St. Pachomius monastery, near Nag Hammadi, refused the order, and instead buried the codices in a large jug.

Unfortunately, years of infighting among international scholars stalled the publication of what came to be called the Nag Hammadi library, and the European countries that controlled the publication rights showed a remarkable indifference to the task. In the end it was an American, James M. Robinson, who obtained photographs of the individual Coptic tractates and passed them on to a team of American translators. As a result, the first complete edition of the Nag Hammadi Library was published in English.

Perhaps because of this head start, much of the ground-breaking scholar-ship devoted to the Gospel of Thomas has come from Americans: Robinson himself, Stephen J. Patterson, John Dominic Crossan, Helmut Koester, Ste-van Davies, and Elaine Pagels. But I have another theory: it was Thomas Jefferson's Life and Morals of Jesus of Nazareth that prepared the Americans for what they would find in the ancient Gospel of Thomas. In some Borgesian way, Jefferson's gospel has become a predecessor to the Gospel of Thomas, though it was composed some 1,700 years later.

The similarities between the two gospels are remarkable, as much for what they do not say as for what they do. Like Jefferson's gospel, Thomas's ignores the virgin birth. Thomas's Jesus never performs a miracle, never calls himself the Son of God, and never claims that he will have to die for the sins of humankind. Instead he tells parables, he issues instructions, and, most alarmingly, he locates the kingdom of God in that one place we might never look?\right in front of us.

On the topics of sin, sacrifice, and salvation?\the real Trinity of mainline Christianity?\Thomas's Jesus, like Jefferson's, is silent. In fact, what we find in the Gospel of Thomas is not really Christianity at all. There is no attempt in the Gospel of Thomas to tell the "story" of Jesus, and there certainly is no inkling of some impending Day of Judgment. Instead, Thomas offers a collection of 114 "sayings" that Jesus is remembered to have delivered in the presence of his followers and before anonymous crowds. These were compiled under the name of Thomas and were circulated throughout Syria among a group that scholars now call the Jesus movement.

As a literary type, the Gospel of Thomas bears kinship with the "wisdom literature" of late Judaism, such as Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, and the Wisdom of Solomon. But its closest counterpart is the sayings gospel Q (after the German Quelle: "source"), from which Matthew and Luke took much of their material. Many of the sayings in Thomas's gospel also appear in Q; almost half of the sayings in Thomas would be familiar to any reader of the New Testament. Such collections circulated around Hellenistic Palestine simply because they contained advice people wanted to remember. The advice in the Gospel of Thomas?\like that in Jefferson's gospel?\is extreme, however, so much so that Stephen J. Patterson has labeled it "counter-cultural wisdom."

This Jesus is especially hard on the rich. As in the canonical Gospels, he says that a man cannot serve two masters and that the poor will be the first to find the kingdom of God. He warns against lending with interest. He tells the parable of the rich man whose friends were too preoccupied to come to dinner, and so he sent his servants out to "bring back whomever you find."

But unlike Matthew and Luke, Thomas ends his story with this damning line: "Buyers and merchants [will] not enter the places of my father."

This Jesus also has no time for empty ceremony, such as fasting and praying. Nor is he too concerned about sins of the flesh. "Why do you wash the outside of the cup?" he asks. "Do you not understand that the one who made the inside is also the one who made the outside?" On the subject of circumcision, he points out, quite sensibly it seems to me, "If [circumcision] were useful, children's fathers would produce them already circumcised from their mothers." At one point he tells his followers that when they "strip with-out being ashamed," then they will be ready for the kingdom of God. The word "sin" occurs only once in the Gospel of Thomas.2

As in the canonical Gospels, this Jesus urges his listeners to abandon their families and follow him. In Thomas this charge takes the form of the succinct advice: "Be passers by." It's a phrase one might expect to find in the Tao Te Ching. Indeed, many scholars have noted the "eastern" feel of Thomas's gospel. Edward Conze has even suggested that the Thomas Christians intermingled with Buddhists in southern India. I suspect it is the spirit of "nonattachment" in Thomas that seems so Taoist or Buddhist. It isn't a concept American Christians have ever been too comfortable with, but it is the crux of Thomas's gospel. His Jesus is trying to convince "whoever has ears" to shake off all of the world's distractions and encumbrances so they might finally see something real. It is the same impulse that drove Henry Thoreau out to Walden Pond.

But what is it exactly they are supposed to see? A radically revised version of the kingdom of God. Throughout the Gospel of Thomas, Jesus' followers are clearly preoccupied with John the Baptist's vision of an impending apocalypse, at which time the Ultimate Arbiter will hear all grievances and right all wrongs. But in Thomas, Jesus openly ridicules such divine intervention or the promise of heavenly compensation for worldly injustice. In the third saying we read: "Jesus said, `If your leaders say to you, "Look, the kingdom is in heaven," then the birds of heaven will precede you. If they say to you, "It is in the sea," then the fish will precede you. Rather, the kingdom is inside you and it is outside you."' We recognize in that last phrase a variant of Luke 17:21. But scholars have puzzled over whether Luke's Greek should be translated as "the kingdom of God is within you" or "the kingdom of God is in your midst." Thomas leaves no doubt. In his gospel's penultimate saying, when the followers ask yet again when the kingdom will come, Jesus replies, "the father's kingdom is spread out upon the earth, and people do not see it."

When Jesus' followers ask when they will enter the kingdom of God, he replies, "When you make the two into one, and when you make the inner like the outer and the outer like the inner, and the upper like the lower, and when you make male and female into a single one . . . then you will en-ter [the kingdom]." This idea of making two into one is central to the theology of Thomas. Unlike Paul's lawgiver and eternal redeemer, this Jesus rejects the verbal and psychological dualisms that divide the world into good and evil, black and white, heaven and hell, body and soul, male and female, straight and gay. Like Zen Buddhists, Thomas's Jesus believes that to divide the world up into abstract categories is to miss seeing the world as it is. At one point Jesus tells his followers, "On the day when you were one, you became two. But when you become two, what will you do?" When we come into being, Jesus seems to be saying, we are necessarily separated from the Creator, the One. What then? Jesus' question implies that we must rediscover the one, not by a return to some heavenly realm but by recognizing the world before us as an emanation of that One?\an immanent wholeness, a kingdom of God.

This Jesus is obviously no savior, certainly no messiah, which alone would account for why early bishops would have ordered the Gospel of Thomas destroyed. But beyond that, they must have realized that while this teaching might serve the cause of the Jesus movement, an itinerant group of passers-by, it would never do as the basis for an established church. Unlike the Jesus of John's gospel, this arresting figure does not glory in his own divinity or brood over his sacrificial fate to save mankind. You can save yourself, he tells the crowds: "If you bring forth what is with-in you, what you have will save you. If you do not have that within you, what you do not have within you [will] kill you." What everyone has within is some fragment of divine light. That spark is proof of our kinship to the Creator?\of our own divinity. But human vanities blind us to it. We walk around wearing all sorts of lampshades until we finally convince ourselves that such a light never existed at all. The Jesus of Thomas's gospel is simply trying to give us back something we already possess. Here is a crucial passage:

Jesus said, "Images are visible to people, but the light within them is hidden in the image of the father's light. He will he disclosed, but his image is hidden by his light."

Jesus said, "When you see your likeness, you are happy. But when you see your images that came into being before you and that neither die nor become visible, how much you will bear!"

There is an empirical way of knowing, and there is an intuitive way of understanding. The "father's light" exists within everyone and "will be disclosed," but we cannot know it intellectually?\we cannot give it an image. Likewise, we comprise two selves?\the one we see in the mirror, and the face we had before we were horn. This last paradoxical image exists in nearly all mystical literature?\Zen koans, the Kabbalah, the Upanishads?\and here, in the Gospel of Thomas. To "see" this imageless image, to know this original self, is to arrive at a nexus where the light within illuminates the world without, and finally shows it for what it truly is?\the kingdom of God. For that reason, the kingdom must exist simultaneously within and without. When Jesus' followers ask him to show them "where you are, for we must seek it," Jesus replies, "There is light within a person of light, and it shines on the whole world.

The intuitive mysticism of the Gospel of Thomas would have made Thomas Jefferson nervous. He was a rationalist, a child of the Enlightenment, a student of Locke and Newton. But twelve years after Jefferson's death, Ralph Waldo Emerson delivered the commencement address to the graduating class of Harvard's Divinity School, a speech that mightily upset many in his audience. If we set "The Divinity School Address" beside Jefferson's gospel, we can begin to understand how the sayings collected by Thomas present us with an oddly but uniquely American gospel.

Emerson shared Jefferson's concern that "historical Christianity" had muddied the message of its founder. But whereas Jefferson worked to retrieve the ethical teachings of Jesus, Emerson was mining the Gospels for something far more elusive?\"the mystery of the soul." Standing before the small group of graduates on a summer night in 1838, Emerson advised the young ministers to renounce preaching the "tropes" of the Gospels and instead point their parishoners back toward their own "divine nature." The problem with the established Church, Emerson charged, is that it teaches our smallness instead of our largeness. "In how many churches," he asked, "by how many prophets, tell me, is man made sensible that he is an infinite Soul; that the earth and heavens are passing into his mind; that he is drinking forever the soul of God?" Emerson, with breathtaking sweep, was replacing American Puritanism with transcendentalism, replacing the Church's emphasis on sin with the individual's concern for his or her own soul. Jesus, he said, was ravished by the soul's beauty?\"he lived in it, and had his being there." He had climbed to the fountainhead, the fundamental intuition. "One man was true to what is in you and me," Emerson concluded. "He saw that God incarnates himself in man, and evermore goes forth anew to take possession of his World." Emerson did not, like Jefferson, deny Jesus' divinity; he simply said the same potential resides in every human heart. He was offering, without knowing it, the first American commentary on the Gospel of Thomas.

Because the of Gospel of Thomas presents a portrait of Jesus so at odds with the canonical Gospels, if one wants to argue, as I do, for the primacy of this version of Christianity, then one must date Thomas closer to its source?\the talking Jesus?\than any of the other four Gospels.

I am not a New Testament scholar. All I can bring to this debate is eighteen years of compulsory churchgoing and a master's degree in reading literary texts. But I am convinced by Stephen J. Patterson's claim that there is no pattern of dependence to suggest the Gospel of Thomas borrowed from Matthew, Mark, or Luke. Furthermore, there are, in Thomas, none of the "secondary accretions" found in the synoptic texts. The four canonical Gospel writers allegorize extensively, but Thomas almost always lets the sayings and parables stand, as Patterson says, "in forms that are more primitive than their synoptic parallels." For instance, Jesus' well-known remark about the impossibility of serving two masters stands alone in both Thomas and in the other sayings gospel, Q. Luke, however, who would have borrowed it from Q, positions this saying within his narrative to function as a direct attack on the Pharisees. But the compilers of the two sayings gospels presumably knew the context, and saw no reason to replicate it, nor did they try to distort it to fit their own purposes. Later, Matthew and Luke combined information from Q and Mark's gospel to invent their own narratives. But given the Gospel of Thomas's resemblance to Q as well as its independence from the canonical Gospels, there is good reason to believe, as does Helmut Koester of Harvard Divinity School, that it is older than the Gospel of Mark.

One question remains: who was Thomas, the author of this ancient collection of sayings? Was it the same Thomas who, in John's gospel, doubted that Jesus had risen from the grave until he saw the scars on his hands? John claims to be "the beloved" of Jesus; Thomas claims to he his "twin." Indeed, John himself makes three references to Thomas, "called the twin." Whether this is the same Judas Thomas, whom Mark and Matthew mention as the brother of Jesus?\and whether he really was Jesus' twin brother?\are questions that still keep scholars busy.

Trying to attribute authorship to ancient religious documents is a nearly hopeless task; too much mythologizing has gotten in the way. But in her most recent book, Beyond Belief, Elaine Pagels argues that the author of this gospel is indeed the same Doubting Thomas who, significantly, appears as a doubter only in John's gospel. Pagels argues that these two inheritors of Jesus' teaching had reached profoundly irreconcilable understandings of that message, particularly with regard to the kingdom of God. John's Jesus is a divine savior, on his way to prepare a better place for those who believe in his redeeming power. Thomas's Jesus, as we have seen, is just the opposite. Pagels suggests that John actually preached his gospel to refute Thomas's teachings, which would explain why only John's gospel depicts Thomas in a poor light.

In the end, of course, John's savior Jesus, who could forgive sins and assuage our fear of death by promising an eternal afterlife, proved more attractive to the early Christians than Thomas's wandering mystic who called for voluntary poverty and spoke in maddening paradoxes. But along with John's "good news" comes the not-so-good news that we are all guilty, sinners by birth, consigned to serve out our sentence in this toilsome, fallen world.

I have spent exactly half my life sitting in churches, listening to preachers enumerate my many sins and declare my inherent deficiency in the eyes of God. My father, however, was never one of those ministers.

He shot himself with his hunting rifle before I was ever old enough to sit with my mother in his congregation. I do not lay all of my father's problems on the steps of the Church, but I do believe it bears much of the blame. My father was also the son of a Baptist minister. My grandfather was a country preacher who, every Sunday, delivered a simple message about earthly hardships, mortal sin, and the crucial choice between eternal salvation or damnation. The atmosphere of guilt was so pervasive within my grandfather's fundamentalism that one didn't even have to do anything wrong. We were born with the mark of sin. Just being alive, just waking up in the morning became a dubious endeavor, a transgression of the flesh. For someone like my father, who was already given to long stretches of depression, such a psychological burden must have finally be-come unbearable.

I've come to see that disbelief, unlike the Christian "conversion experience," is not a cataclysmic event. I can't say exactly when I lost my family's faith in a redeeming messiah. But I do know that at some point during one of my own lengthy bouts of depression and self-loathing, I decided, however unconsciously, that I could best avoid my father's fate by abandoning my grandfather's beliefs. Of course losing faith is never that simple, and in my case it involved bitter recriminations and long, terrible silences between me and the rest of my family. When my grandfather died last year, we were barely speaking. And, of course, the problem with losing faith is that you never really do, not completely. You never quite shake off that internal surveillance mechanism that William Blake called the "mind-forg'd manacles" and Freud later termed the superego.

So when I first discovered the Gospel of Thomas about a decade ago, I was shocked to find a version of Christianity that I could accept and one that, moreover, could serve as a vital corrective to my grandfather's view that we live helplessly, sinfully, in a broken world. According to Thomas's Jesus, humankind never suffered an irredeemable Fall. The world only appears to be a realm of separation from the Creator and from one another. When Thomas's Jesus tells his followers that "Adam came from great power and great wealth, but he was not worthy of you," he is implying that Adam's first sin was to take on the knowledge of good and evil?\the knowledge that continues to divide the world into us and them. The stunning message of Thomas's gospel is that such divisions are arbitrary, destructive, and, finally, unnatural. Only the talking animals believe in them. Thus Adam's sin, ironically, was simply ignorance. True, that ignorance proved to be congenital, but it wasn't terminal and it didn't demand divine intervention. What it demanded was a realization on the part of each individual that he or she still possesses a divine light lodged within the heart, and that light can reveal the world to be a beautiful, undivided wholeness.

This teacher of reconciliation was the same Jesus whom Thomas Jefferson hoped to recover through his own gospel project. And whereas Jefferson found in Jesus' teaching an ethic for how we should treat others, Emerson found in it an alchemical light that transforms flesh into spirit. In some uncanny trick of history and geography, the ancient Gospel of Thomas combines these two visions of Jesus to give us what I would call a truly American gospel. By pulling the kingdom of God out of the sky and transposing it onto this world, Thomas's Jesus returns us, in effect, to Jefferson's agrarian America, where the farmer intuits the laws of God through the laws of nature.

Read together, as the world all around us sickens and dies from the poi-son discharges of Hamiltonian industry, these twin gospels suggest that it is time we inverted Pascal's famous wager to say not that we should believe in heaven because we have nothing to lose but rather that we should believe first in this world, because in losing it we may lose everything. And if we can somehow live justly, modestly, with generosity and compassion, we have everything to gain. Perhaps we do not have to wait for the kingdom of God.

NOTES

1 Athanasius's letter is the first known list of the twenty-seven books that now make up the New Testament.

2 "Jesus said to them, `If you fast, you will bring sin upon yourselves, and if you pray, you will be condemned, and if you give to charity, you will harm your spirits.'"
 
Nice work, but it seems like another attempt to make our own Jesus- to make Him conform to our image. The challenge is to leave the scissors in the drawer and take the Bilble in its entirety- especially the parts that rub you wrong. That is the first step of conforming you to God's image.
 
sabro said:
Nice work, but it seems like another attempt to make our own Jesus- to make Him conform to our image. The challenge is to leave the scissors in the drawer and take the Bilble in its entirety- especially the parts that rub you wrong. That is the first step of conforming you to God's image.
So why do you think the Gospel of Thomas isn't included in today's Bible?
 
:blush: Arrival to Jesus Christ's this world - was display of "Light" in this world. Apostlees - only "Witnesses" of this phenomenon in the world. And all... There Are " Gospels of witnesses of arrival to this world of Light " and which " reaction to this world of this Light " first of all is written down... Also there are " acts of these Witnesses " - people seen this world through vision of this "Light", but not being this "Light"... It is Christianity - in the essence... All their acts is only reflection of "It" in time and people which even did not see (like Apostlees) from the party " as sees this "Light"...
And probably the most sad for believing people will be comprehension of that is " Jesus Christ's Precept " about following by the way "Light" (that he "saw"), but not "New testament" between people and the God... Accordingly the doctrine of prophet Muhameda is a doctrine of the prophet, but not "New testament" which as it is specified in "old writings", should lead people to a condition " children divine " - similar to Jesus Christ... I Hope, what anybody from all the believings (all religions and concepts) does not apply it to itself?...:blush:
 
Tsuyoiko said:
So why do you think the Gospel of Thomas isn't included in today's Bible?
The early Catholic Church didn't like it and left it out with many other pieces that didn't conform to their teachings. If you have books of varying stories and inconsistances, you'll take the ones that best match what you want a united church to have. I think most of the Pauline letters are trying to bring the first churches into line with Rome. Took until Constantine to eventually bring it all together at the council of Nicea. Also its helps stamp out any heretical or individualism from springing up.
Just on the note of various inconsistances and with Christams just gone. As with most Christmas celebrations there is the story of the nativity. Something has been bothering me about it. Luke and Matthew don't really match about the birth of Christ. My main point is with Herod. In Matthew Mary and Joseph flee Bethlehem to escape the slaughter of the innocents. If such a maassacre took place why isn't it mentioned in Luke? Now Luke is not an eyewitness account of the events, as discribed in the first 4 verses, but an account taken from eyewitnesses and servants of the word. He then puts them together in an orderly account for Theophilus. The slaughter of the innocents is portrayed in Christianity as the last acts of a desperate tyrant. Yet in Luke Jesus is circumsied and presented at the temple before they return to Nazareth 2.39. If such a massacre took place surely the people that Luke spoke to would have mentioned this atrocity, yet there is no mention at all. The other point is that under Herod the collection of taxes was taken by Herod, not the Romans. A census of Herods Kingdom would not be required by Rome as Judea was not under Roman rule when Herod was alive. It came under Roman rule after he had died and then a census would be taken. So Luke seem to be a bit vague on Herod being aive or dead. I have also read various histories on Herod The Great (as he is known as) and a general view taken is that the slaughter of the innocents is a fabrication made to purposely to deface him in the eyes of the populace. In fact there is various pieces that think that Herod was dead before Jesus was born.
 
Don't underestimate the hand of God. If there really is a God, and He is as powerful as he says, how hard could the production and protection of one 44 book Bible be. I would say not nearly as hard as speaking matter into existence.
 
sabro said:
Don't underestimate the hand of God. If there really is a God, and He is as powerful as he says, how hard could the production and protection of one 44 book Bible be. I would say not nearly as hard as speaking matter into existence.
If that's the case the canonisation of the New Testament (and here) wouldn't be so complicated. There would be no inconsistencies in the Bible. There would be no 'biblical' books (like Thomas) that look like they should be included. If God can determine which books should be in the Bible, why did it take him hundreds of years to get everyone to (not quite) agree about it? Why did he let the Nag Hammadi scriptures and the Qumran scrolls resurface after 2000 years? Why do Catholics include some books that protestants don't? Why are Gnostics wrong to include those pre-canon writings?

The whole situation is even more complicated than I thought when I started this post. I thought it had been sorted in the fourth century at some synod or other, but if you look at the articles above, it was a long drawn out process. Although the New Testament was largely decided at the Synod of Carthage in 397 (which excluded Revelations), Catholics don't consider it to have been sorted until 1546! Some 'Christians' even include 'scriptures' that weren't 'discovered' (i.e. made up) until the nineteenth century!

Basically, these books that we now call the New Testament were gathered together very slowly over the course of several hundred years, and the decision about what should be included was nothing to do with a supernatural being, but hinged on which writings would best help those in power consolidate and hold on to that power. That's why Thomas wasn't included - because it teaches that the power is in the hands of the individual.
 
...But if you believe in predestination- then God arranged and authored all of it- and everything happened exactly the way it was supposed to have happened. (A very circular argument I know- but a resolve non the less.)
 
In other words Sabro, you know it makes no sense but you choose to believe in it because it makes you happy? I can respect that. :cool: It beats trying to prove the sense of it anyway :p
 
Actually it is worse than that- It makes sense BECAUSE I choose to believe in it whether or not it makes me happy. And in the Calvanistic sense-I didn't even choose to believe- that was also done for me- (God is the author and finisher of my faith, faith is a free gift from God so that none can boast, he loved me before I chose him...)

I am not one who subscribes to the "Evidence that demands a verdict" apologetics. I believe in God- I know him to be a reality- but every bit of proof I have is from my subjective observation. I know what he has done in my life, I see what he has done in others- I have seen miracles and mighty works- but nothing logical, measurable, provable. My faith is not science...nor is it something I was convinced of or brought up to believe.
 
I found this on another forum, and thought it was interesting. I was hoping to get Mars Man's take on this, of course I'd be interested in other's ideas on this as well.
Boxy said:
Hell- Do You Know What the Hell It Is?
"Hell" is the stuff of nightmares: burning in sulfur, pitchforks and demons, the whole "eternal damnation" deal. However, such symbology is conspicuously absent from actual reference in the original text - except the "lake of fire", which I'll touch on briefly.
Three words have been translated as "Hell" in most English Bibles - Gehenna, Tartarus, and Hades - all of which are specific theological constructs rather than euphuisms for a Christ-run prison-house.
Now, to get down to the nitty-gritty: what were Gehenna, Tartarus, and Hades, respectively?
Gehenna is an actual place located in Israel, once used for burning garbage. It's also called the Valley of Hinnom, an actually lovely place nowadays. The valley was also used as a locale for offering sacrifices to the idolatrous god Moloch, whose practice is strictly forbidden in the grand ol' chapters of Leviticus 18 and 20, alongside prohibitions against homosexuality, incest, bestiality, and sexual relations whilst the female is menstruating.
Wikipedia, ever-so-lovely Wikipedia, has this to say:
Wikipedia said:
New Testament observations and matters of translation
It is often mentioned in the New Testament of the Christian Bible as the place of condemnation of unrepentant sinners.
In the Book of Matthew, 23:33, Jesus observes,
"Ye serpents, ye generation of vipers, how can ye escape the damnation of hell??h
Jesus used the word gehenna, not hell, and his audience understood quite well that gehenna meant a place of condemnation, where Jews had previously cast aside the worship of the true God to defile themselves by committing abominations. Human garbage, sinners, would be consumed and destroyed forever.
We note, the King James Bible (and other translations as well) speak of ?ghellfire?h and of being ?gcast into hell, into the fire that shall never be quenched." The original Greek scriptures of the New Testament actually used the word gehenna, which tended to become hell in English translation.
wikipedia
In instances of "hellfire" and "Gehenna" in the New Testament, it refers symbolically to apostasy, or in other words forsaking God, rather than simmering in Hades.
Which brings me to my next point: Hades was, in many religions, the generalized usage of "the world of the dead". The Hebrew texts have a very similar concept - Sheol, which means quite literally "Hidden". Hades is connected with the concept of "soul-sleep", or that the individual goes "asleep" and is "hidden" from view.
It seems strange that, if indeed the condemnation of Hades is "eternal" and "interminable", that Christ would be "thrust down" into it and then return (Acts 2:31). Hades is then, in that instance, the concept of a pre-resurrection afterlife rather than for punishment.
Tartarus is in the Greek sense the source of existence: it represents the primordial essence that the Earth sprang from. However, it's not an entirely happy place - generally it's considered "darkness", a void, et cetera. One could connect this with the "void" that the earth was before the Creation; thus, being sent back to Tartarus is regressing to a former state of being.
It should note that Tartarus was used only once, and only in reference to the abode of sinning angels (2 Peter 2:4).
As for the lake of fire, one must examine it thoroughly: a "water" element is present (lake) as well as a "burning" element (element). Water in most texts could be interpreted as spirit - a symbol inseparably connected to water. Burning was a practice used under the Mosaic law to cleanse a sacrifice and to atone - the "unclean" parts of the sacrifice would be burnt, and the smoke (considered the purest part) would rise to heaven.
The symbology of being "thrust into the lake of fire" is then more of a forceful baptism and cleansing rather than the peaceful "baptism of fire" promised to the righteous by John the Baptist.
The concept of "Hell" is horribly confused and befuddled by many conflicting sources. By understanding the subtle difference between the usage of Tartarus, Hades, and Gehenna, one can learn to appreciate and better comprehend the text.
 
A very nice and informative find there Revenant chan !! Thanks a lot.

As far as I have looked into the matter, the quote was right on target. The linguistical matters are fully correct, and the fact that tartaros is used only at 2 Peter is correct and interesting.

For one, that work, 2 Peter, is the most contested of all 'canonical' works, and may very well be a somewhat later writer without any connection to Peter 1's author. Another, is that Homer used the term to denote the location the gods had placed 'as far below the earth as the earth was below heaven' to hold lesser gods and spirits--esp. Cronus and the other Titans who had rebelled against Zeus.

So, as can be seen in a large number of places throughout the NT, esp. the narrative accounts, there is borrowing from literature of the age to either strenghten what one had wanted the direct and immediate audience to understand and feel, or, to simply add filler.

The information is right on the money there, and only has one or two comments (in conclusions not related to the linguistical facts) which could leave room for other arguments, it seems to me.
 
It does seem quite possible that the Western versions of Heaven and Hell are significantly more embellished and by overly literal interpretations of figurative language over the centuries and the true New Testament versions of the afterlife are closer to what stricter Judaism teaches.

Strongvoicesforward- hermenuetics refers to the interpretation of the Bible based upon the context of the passages and not the narrow exegsis that most fundamentalists practice. "...hermeneutics addresses the ways in which a reader may come to the broadest understanding of the creator of text and his relation to his audiences, both local and over time, within the constraints of culture and history." (Wikipedia) ALL communication exists within the context of culture, language and history.

So when you are doing a study of verses which use the word Gehenna for hell, you look it how that particular term was applied in the past or earlier verses. In Matthew and Revelations, when you interpret the language like "coming in the clouds", "moon turns to blood" and "stars fall from the sky" you will find that it did not mean a literal astronomical event, but in Isaiah, Ezekiel, Amos, Zephaniah...to indicate a time of political change and foreign domination. It seems to me to be a significantly more historically, textually and theologically accurate method than either exegesis or inductive study which are both more likely to falsely register the type "errors" that you and the fundamentalist "discover."
 
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