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It is often said that the Bible is one of the great works of world literature, epic in scope and rich in story. It occurred to me today, though, that when you compare the Biblical tales with those of other myth-building cultures, the Biblical God comes off looking a bit dull.
Consider, for example, the Creation account. The Kwakwaka’wakw people of Western Canada have one of my favourite creation stories on record, a lengthy tale of how Raven witnessed the birth of the first humans from elderberry trees, and then went on a series of daring adventures to obtain water, light and food for them. It’s a lengthy and entertaining tale, comprised of a series of short substories. In each episode, Raven suffers some sort of injury or loss which gradually transform him from a glorious, shining white god-being to a small black crow. The Genesis story, by contrast, is just unimaginative. God makes everything, then he has a kip. Dull.
Some of the best stories in the Bible are the semi-historical ones in Kings, Judges and Chronicles. Samson is a good example; a superhuman being who slays his enemies with a jawbone and is eventually brought down by the schemes of Delilah. It’s not bad – but set it against a similar tale from around the same period in history, the Epic of Gilgamesh. Gilgamesh, like Samson, is superhumanly strong, but unlike Samson he deals with more than just knocking off Philistines. In the course of their adventures, Gilgamesh and his companion Enkidu take on the mighty demon Humbaba and the gigantic Bull of Heaven, and after Enkidu’s death Gilgamesh goes on an epic quest to find the herb of immortality, which he obtains but eventually loses. It’s a huge story, told in delicate and delightful poetry, and holds far more appeal than Samson’s aggressive displays of fighting prowess.
What about the story of Noah and the flood? Let’s set that against another sea-going adventurer – Jason and his quest for the Golden Fleece. Noah builds a big fuck-off boat, stuffs it with animals (alright Ken Ham, and baby dinosaurs), waits out the flood rather uneventfully, and then sends out a couple of birdies to check whether he can disembark or not. Jason’s sea voyage pits him against harpies, the crashing rocks of the Symplegades, a dragon, an army of warriors born from the dragon’s teeth, the alluring sirens and a bronze giant named Talos. It’s pretty exciting stuff, and I for one would certainly rather read Apollonius’ Argonautica than Genesis.
Jesus has quite an interesting tale, what with his rising from the dead at the end. However, I would contend that, as far as excitement and imagination goes, the story of Osiris’ death and resurrection makes for a much more enticing read. And my other favourite bit of the Bible – the apocalyptic Revelation – pales in comparison to the Norse Armageddon of Ragnarok.
All in all, given the other myths that were around at the time, the stories in the Bible are somewhat pale and wan. The God they present is an unimaginative figure, without character or pathos, and the tales are dull retellings of battles and weak mythology. I’ve read the Bible several times now, with both Christian and atheist eyes, but never have I found within it’s pages a legend really worth the telling.
This is my one-hundredth post on Right To Think, and I thought it might be a good time to briefly reflect on the blogging process that has, well, pretty much dominated my thoughts over the last few months. Actually, that’s not entirely true; my forthcoming marriage to FutureWife has been at the forefront of my attention rather more often, but even so, writing this blog has started to become an important part of my day.
When I first sat down to post number 1, I wasn’t really sure what I was going for. I’d been pottering around the atheosphere for a few months, staying quiet, reading about what people were thinking and solidifying my newly-minted non-belief. Eventually the need to speak out became too great, and my random spewings began to trickle out onto the internet. I remember the joy of checking Right To Think’s stats early on, and being delighted that three whole people had read one of my posts. I also recall (and FutureWife will attest to this) the excitement felt when I started seeing names I recognised cropping up in my comment threads; I fairly danced around the room when The Exterminator was my first commentator.
Now I feel I’ve settled into a routine with this blog – it’s becoming part of my life that I look forward to each day. I hope the rest of you have enjoyed (or at least been moderately entertained by) my thoughts to date, and I look forward to sharing more with you in the future. Who knows – one day I too might hit that elusive 100,000…
As regular readers may have noticed, I have a keen interest in Biblical history. In this field, Bart D. Erhman is rapidly becoming one of my favourite writers. I’ve just finished working my way through Misquoting Jesus, and have been thoroughly impressed by it.
Ehrman’s premise is simple. The New Testament we have today is a copy. In fact, it is a copy of a copy. In fact, it is a copy of a copy of copies of copies of copies, all the way back to the original manuscripts, which we no longer have. We do not even have copies of copies of copies of them. With this in mind, Erhman asks, how close can we get to the actual words of the gospels?
He creates a logical, elegantly-structured argument, looking at the history of the New Testament from its earliest origins up to the modern Bible, examining the development of the reproductions and explaining the textual analysis techniques used. He also devotes much of his book to the question of why the New Testament was changed; the theological, sociological and practical reasons behind the alterations, with pertinent and well-expounded examples. Most vitally, he addresses the issue of why the changes matter, and the alterations to orthodox theology that would be raised were we to choose one set of manuscripts over another.
Erhman’s style is fluid, readable and easy to follow. As he says in the Introduction:
“[Misquoting Jesus] is written for people who know nothing about textual criticism but who might like to learn something about how scribes were changing scripture and about how we can recognize where they did so.”
He succeeds. Thanks to the clarity of the over-arching argument and the apt choices of examples, Misquoting Jesus is as easy to read as any John Grisham potboiler. Furthermore, it has wide appeal; Erhman makes no judgements about religion based on his findings, and the book would be equally of interest to Christians and non-Christians alike (Biblical literalists will find it a bitter pill to swallow, though…). If you only read one book on the historicity of the New Testament… better make it this one.
Last night I was listening to BBC Radio 3’s production of Marlowe’s Dr Faustus – quite a well handled adaptation, I though. I was struck, though, by how uncommonly dense Faustus appears to be at times. Immediately after damning his soul to Hell by signing it over to Mephistopheles, Faustus gives his reasons as to why he thinks he’s onto a sure thing:
FAUSTUS. I think hell’s a fable… Think’st thou that Faustus is so fond to imagine that, after this life, there is any pain? No, these are trifles and mere old wives’ tales.
This in conversation with an actual, tangible demon standing right in front of him, and the whiff of brimstone in the air… I, too, do not believe in Hell, but I suspect I’d be willing to revise my views on such evidence. Which set me thinking – what evidence would I be willing to accept for the existence of an afterlife?
Mephistopheles would be a good example, but there exists the possibility that he is just a figment of Faustus’ imagination. If I see a demon (or an angel, or a ghost), I must ask which is more likely, that such a thing actually exists or that I am experiencing some sort of delusion? Though he may be fictitious, Mephistopheles’ actions can be witnessed by others; the grapes he brings from “India, Sara and such countries as lie far east” are the best the Duchess has ever tasted, and the spirits of Alexander and his Paramour that he raises are visible to the Emperor Charles and his court. To my mind, this would count as sufficient evidence that Mephistopheles is real, thus anchoring a chain of reasoning that leads inexorably to belief in Hell, an afterlife, and God.
If my senses are sufficiently disorientated as to see devils where there are none, though, what is to stop me from claiming that the reactions of other people are equally fictional? Faustus perceives that his students can see Helen of Troy, for example, but why should we not assume that his hallucination also encompasses their responses? In many ways, I find myself in the dilemma of Descartes, unable to know what is real and what is imaginary. Unlike Descartes, though, I need not look to God to worm my way out of it. As an empiricist, I believe in that which is evident to my senses, and to a large extent deem it irrelevant whether I am real, or in the Matrix, or a brain in a jar. So long as my experiences are consistent with my view of reality, I shall assume that view to be correct, or at least functionally indistinguishable from correct.
In the event of meeting a Mephistopheles, then, my worldview would have to change radically. However, in the absence of such hellish evidence, I shall continue to adopt the view of Faustus, that hell (and gods, and heavens) are an old wives’ tale.
Here are the answers to the Right To Think Bible Quiz!
1. Joshua had a companion called Achan. Who was his father?
Answer: Carmi (Joshua 7: 1). Or possibly Zerah (Joshua 7:24).
2. How many children of Asaph returned from the Babylonian exile?
Answer: 128 (Ezra 2:41), or 148 (Nehemiah 7:44).
3. How many days passed between the Resurrection and the Ascension?
Answer: They happened on the same day (Luke 24:1-51), although 40 days (Acts 1:2-3, 9) would also be correct.
4. What sort of animal did Jesus ride into Jerusalem?
Answer: It was a colt (Luke 19:35), although you could also have said an ass (John 12:14).
5. Did Jesus baptize people?
Answer: Yes, he did (John 3:22), and also No, he never did (John 4:2).
6. Which tribe was granted the cities of Eshataol and Zoreah?
Answer: The tribe of Judah (Joshua 15: 20, 33), except it was Dan (Joshua 19: 40-41).
7. David had to choose a punishment from God as a result of his unsanctioned census. One of the options was famine – but for how many years?
Answer: 7 years (2 Samuel 24:13) would be correct, or 3 years (1 Chronicles 21:11-12) would also be right.
8. Where did Moses brother Aaron die?
Answer: He died on Mount Hor (Numbers 33:38), but also managed to die at Mosera (Deuteronomy 10:6).
9. What was the relationship of King Jehu to his forebear Nimshi?
Answer: He was Nimshi’s son (1 Kings 19:16), although he was Nimshi’s grandson (2 Kings 9: 2)
10. Whereabouts is Jacob’s grave?
Answer: It’s at Machpelah (Genesis 50:13), though he was also buried at Shechem (Acts 7:15-16)
Yes indeed, all the answers were right. It just goes to show – with the Bible, you can prove anything. Brian of Primordial Blog gets the prize, not only for getting the answers right but also for pulling me up on an error in Question 7. $10 worth of Amazon gift vouchers are on their way to you, Brian, not to mention a boatload of kudos for your scriptural knowledge.
(many thanks to Skeptic’s Annotated for most of the information)
I just had to share this from Stuff God Hates – it’s a great bit of writing; which I would of course expect from an omnipotent blogger.
Since the Gospel of Thomas was so well received, here’s another example of one of the lost books of the New Testament – The Acts Of Peter. Rather than a story about Jesus, this is similar in scope to the Acts Of The Apostles, focussing on Peter and his visit to Rome. More importantly, it deals with the rivalry between Peter and his nemesis, Simon Magus, who regular Bible readers will remember as the man who offered the disciples money in exchange for magic powers (Acts 8:9-24). Simon was the leader of a heretical sect of Gnostic Christianity, and was something of a thorn in the side of the early church, being both highly charismatic and (allegedly) possessed of miraculous abilities similar to those of Jesus. His cult generally regarded him as another manifestation of Christ. Peter, in this story, takes Simon on in a magical battle to determine who is the real Messiah. In this retelling, I’ve edited out some of the long sermons that Peter keeps interjecting and, for the sake of brevity, restricted the narrative to the actual contest between Peter and Simon – the story of Peter’s trial and crucifixion is also contained in the full text of the document, but I’m leaving that out. Read the book if you’re interested.
We join our tale at the house of Marcellus, once a good Christian but now converted to the evils of Simon Magus. Simon is staying in Marcellus’ house, and Peter, who has just arrived in Rome, wants a word with him…
“Doorman,” said Peter, “I want a word with that Simon fellow who’s staying in this house. Be a good chap and fetch him out here, would you?” The doorman vacillated. “I dunno sir,” he replied. “I mean, you might be Peter, or you might not, I dunno. But that Simon bloke, ‘ee said if you woz to come round, I woz to tell you that he’s not in. ‘Ee said I woz to say that, wevver ‘ee was in, “(he winked elaborately), “or not.”
Peter got the doorman’s gist at once. “Jolly good show, doorman!” he said. “Now watch this, chaps!” He called over a large dog that was nearby, and spoke to it, saying, “Right Fido, old chum, let’s play a game of ‘Fetch’. You’re to go into this house, and ‘fetch’ that charlatan Simon out here, so I can give him a damn good thrashing, what?” To the amazement of the surrounding crowd (word had got out that something odd was going down at Marcellus’ house), the dog replied in perfect English (well, Latin, probably): “Roight you are sah!” It ran into the house, and began berating Simon. “Yoo ‘orrible little man!” the dog ranted. “Wot the ‘ell do you fink you’re doing, ‘iding in ‘ere? I’ve ‘alf a mind ta wipe the floor wiv you! Now git your arse outside, ‘coz Peter’s ‘ere and ‘ee ain’t too ‘appy wiv you, sunshine!” Simon was dumbstruck, and tried to hide.
Marcellus, impressed by the talking dog trick (ventriloquism had yet to catch on in Rome), rushed out and begged Peter for forgiveness, falling on his knees and offering money, property and even his family to Peter. “Bear up, lad” said Peter. “Stiff upper lip and all that. I’ll straighten it all out with God, you’ll be fine. Do stop crying, old boy, you’re causing quite a scene.”
Meanwhile, inside Simon and the dog were still arguing. “Tell him I’m out,” cried Simon, whilst he clambered up on the sofa. “You worthless piece of shite,” snarled the dog. “You useless little bastard! Scared are yer? Wossa matter, Mummy didn’t cuddle you enuff? I’ll tell you right nah, sunshine, you’re gonna git wot’s coming to yer, and no mistake!” With that, the dog ran back outside to Peter. “You’ve got a right one there, mate,” it said. “Best o’ luck to yer, Pete, me old mucker. Now it’s time fer me ta pop me clogs.” And with that, Fido expired. “Wow,” exclaimed the bystanders, who were highly impressed by Peter’s talking dog trick. “Show us another!”
“Well, no-one likes a show off,” smiled Peter knowingly, “but since you all asked so nicely…” and he turned to a smoked tuna fish that was hanging nearby. “Tell you what, ladies and gents,” he said. “How’s about I make this tatty old tuna fish come back to life? That would be a pretty splendid wheeze, what?” He dropped the tuna in a conveniently situated pond, and sure enough, it began swimming around (how it managed to survive in fresh water is still a mystery, but hey, anything’s possible with Jesus, right?). Everyone applauded. “David Blaine can kiss my arse,” said one man, “this Peter guy is the bomb!”
Marcellus, impressed by the fish trick, finally kicked Simon the freeloader out of his house. Simon went over to where Peter was staying, and shouted from outside: “Right Peter, you fucking asked for it! Get out here and let’s do this, mano-a-mano!” Rather than coming out himself, Peter sent down a woman with a small baby. When she came face to face with Simon, the baby spoke up: “Simon,” it said, matter-of-factly, “this Saturday, you and Peter are going to have it out. Until then, though, you’ll be unable to speak, just to teach you a lesson.” And Simon was struck dumb.
That weekend, at the Colosseum…
“Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to this week’s live match-up between Simon “The Magus” of Gitta and Peter “The Rock” the Apostle! We’ve been waiting for this grudge match all week, and now the feathers are really gonna fly! Peter has been talking up his game all week, and today we get to see who the real Messiah’s gonna be! So strap yourselves in… and LET’S GET READY TO RUMBLE!!!”
“The prefect’s slave has been sent out onto the pitch… wait, it looks like Simon’s whispering something to him… he’s stepping back… OH MY GOD HE’S DOWN! Simon has literally killed that slave with a word! And the crowd has gone nuts! There’s a pitch invasion! Wait… okay, it’s just one old lady. And she’s headed for Peter! What’s… what’s she saying? I can’t quite make it out, it sounds like… her son is what? Dead? Ladies and gentlemen, it seems this lady’s son is dead, and, wait… they’re going to fetch him! They’re going to fetch the body! This is a real curveball from Peter, he’s not dealing with the slave at all, he’s going for the dead son approach… it’s unorthodox, but he might really pull something off with this one… Whilst they fetch the body, here’s a short commercial break, but stay tuned – we’ll be right back!”
***********************
“Welcome back to the Magus/Apostle fight! Before the break, Peter had requested a dead boy be brought to the stadium and he’s here now… but Peter’s going back to the slave! Yes, yes… he’s definitely heading slave-wards… Agrippa the prefect’s looking annoyed… seems he really liked that slave boy, if you know what I mean… What? We’ve all heard the rumours! Anyway, Paul is doing some praying… he’s taking Agrippa over to the corpse… WOAH! HE’S UP! I repeat, the slave is UP! It’s a genuine resurrection here folks, that is something you don’t see every day! Wow! He’s moving to the woman’s dead son now… AND AGAIN! Peter is two-for-two! Double resurrection action! Oh boy, we are all really excited here I can tell you. Stay tuned now… we’ll be right back!”
*********************
“Welcome back, ladies and gentlemen. In another twist to this epic battle, the corpse of senator Nicostratus has been brought in. A hush has fallen over the stadium… Simon Magus is up next. He’s moving over to the body… he looks pretty hesitant…he’s doing something… WOAH! That is spooky! Did you see it? Hang on, let’s get a replay… yes, THERE! The dead man moved his head, and it looked like, it looked like his eyes opened for a moment there! The crowd are impressed – they’re already gathering the wood to burn Peter! But he’s addressing them… wait… can we get a mic over there?”
“… bit off, don’t you think? I say, chaps, put me down! Look, it’s a trick, you silly duffers, it’s just a simple parlour trick! I’ll tell you what (I say, do you mind watching where you stick that branch, old bean?), I’ll tell you what, if Mr Nicostratus, is really alive again, let’s have a little chat with him, shall we? A little tete-a-tete? Or better yet, just ask that Simon fellow to step back a few paces…”
“And Agrippa has stepped in, ladies and gents, he’s pushing Simon out of the way – and Nicostratus is down! Oh yes, that is one dead dude, he’s not going anywhere. And now Peter… Peter’s getting the crowd to promise something… he wants them NOT to burn Simon! Oh wow, this is that Christian forgiveness we keep hearing about – he’s letting his opponent off the hook… oh hang on… no, no, it seems he’s telling them to WAIT to burn Simon – it seems Peter’s not finished putting the smackdown on Mr Magus yet! And just to rub salt in wound… he’s raising Nicostratus! That’s a resurrection hat-trick for Peter!”
“The players are retiring now… it seems Simon has promised to do some flying when he gets back – now that I’d like to see. We’ll be back, after these messages…”
****************************
“Well, here we are at the climax of this fight – and Simon’s gonna be showing us something special tonight! That’s right, ladies and gentlemen, tonight, Simon Magus is going to FLY up to Heaven. That’s a BIG claim, and we’re all here to see if he can be as good as his word. There’s a hush over the crowd… Simon is standing there alone in the middle of the auditorium, he’s not moving… wait… there’s something… OH MY WORD HE’S OFF THE GROUND! I can’t believe what I’m seeing here! Simon is actually flying! Up, up he goes… and wait, Peter’s doing something now… he’s praying… Simon is really high now… and Peter’s… Peter’s still prayi… OH! HOLY SHIT! Simon’s down! I repeat, Simon is down, down, down, he’s fallen out of the sky… the paramedics are running over now, but that did not look good… And Simon’s follower Gemmellus is running over to him… wait, he’s kicking him? Now Gemellus is running over to join Peter… well it looks like Simon’s battle for the championship is over – the crowd are pelting him with stones… Man, I would NOT like to be a part of Team Magus today, even Gemellus is jumping ship! Peter the Apostle wins the day! Ladies and gentlemen, let’s hear it for… PETER, “THE ROCK” THE APOSTLE!!!”
During the early days of the Christian church, many different views vied for orthodoxy amongst the first church communities. As letters flowed back and forth between Paul and his flock, as stories of Jesus’ life began to develop into mythology and as other traditions were encountered and incorporated into the fledgling faith, the need for a canon of universally agreed-upon texts became paramount. Ironically, one of the first Christians to create such a canon was Marcion of Sinope (c.110-160 CE), a wealthy shipbuilder who ingratiated himself with the Roman church through substantial donations, but was later excommunicated as a heretic.
Marcion’s list of accepted books revolved around his adoration of Paul, who, he believed, was the only apostle to have truly understood the philosophy of Jesus. This philosophy, in Marcion’s interpretation, was one of Gnosticism, and Jesus’ presence on earth was indicative of the presence of a previously unrecognised God. The theory of Marcionism taught that the Old Testament god, Yahweh (Yaltabaoth), was in fact the demiurge of Gnostic tradition – a creator god, but an evil one. Jesus was an emissary and incarnation of the Monad, the single overarching, unknowable uber-God, far greater and more remote than the god of the Jews. As a result of this theology, Marcion made substantial alterations to the gospels and epistles in his collection, to further promote this idea, and made his version of the New Testament distinct from the pre-existing Judaic Tanakh (what we now know as the Old Testament).
This premise is not actually that hard to understand, given the vast differences between the jealous, war-like desert god Yahweh and the loving Father described by Jesus. It was certainly widely accepted in the second century, and persisted, in spite of attacks by mainstream Christianity, for around 300 years. Eventually, though, the orthodox views of Tertullian, Origen, Irenaeus and their ilk won out, and the New Testament as we know it today came to prominence. This 27 book selection, though, was not settled upon until at least around 360 CE (it gets a mention from Athanasius in 367), and continued to be disputed for many years after this. I’m left thinking – what if Marcionism hadn’t been suppressed? Modern Christianity would look very different.
For starters, there would be no Old Testament. This collection of writings concerns the misguided actions of the demiurge Yahweh, and has no relevance for those who follow the true Monad. The New Testament would be somewhat different (and shorter) too, containing only ten Pauline epistles and a bastardised version of Luke called the Gospel of Marcion (although some evidence suggests that Luke was based on Marcion, rather than the other way around). Paul would be revered in much the same way as Muhammad is in Islam. Christians would probably still hate homosexuals (it’s unclear whether Romans and Corinthians, the epistles where Paul specifically vents his homophobia, were to be included in Marcion’s New Testament, although it seems likely) but at least that annoying bit of Leviticus would be gone. Women might have had an easier time of it; Paul was quite tolerant of women in the Church (the passages in Timothy and Corinthians which are normally cited by anti-feminists are widely regarded to be later additions to the texts). The whole creationism thing might perhaps rear its head (Gnosticism does still posit Yahweh as the creator of the universe), though given the de-emphasis of Genesis, “teaching the controversy” would be a very minority view.
The problem of evil would be solved: the world was created flawed by a flawed god, so the 3-omni issue doesn’t arise. Christians would also be less concerned with defending the resurrection, since Jesus’ teachings and the esoteric knowledge encoded therein were of far more importance. In any case, Marcion was a docetist, believing that Jesus was wholly divine and merely appeared human, so he can’t really have died. There would also be no argument to be derived from the gospels’ inconsistency, since only one would exist.
The Catholic Church, if it existed at all, would have a very different form. The papacy (based as it is on descent from Simon Peter) would cease to exist, perhaps replaced by a Pauline Pope (a Paup?). Protestantism (or something similar) might well have taken hold though, since Luther would likely have objected to the secret initiations and mystery cultism of the Gnostics.
For a short time in the second century, the future history of the Western world hung in the balance. Who can say what might have happened had heresy become orthodoxy? What we can see from this little exercise, though, is that early Christianity was not the united front most of its modern adherents assume. If Marcion’s canon had won out, they would hold a very different set of beliefs today.
This (and more like it) originated at Rhymes With Witch.
I took a Bible quiz today.
You know the Bible 100%!
Wow! You are awesome! You are a true Biblical scholar, not just a hearer but a personal reader! The books, the characters, the events, the verses – you know it all! You are fantastic!
I shouldn’t boast – this was really far too easy. Plus I take serious issue with question number 6; there is some (scant) evidence that the author of the Gospel of Luke also wrote Acts, but there’s also a not-inconsiderable amount of textual criticism that suggests otherwise – and in any case, we can be damn near certain that the author of Luke’s gospel was not called Luke!
Here, instead, is my own (shorter) version. To make it easier, each question has only two possible answers. Anyone who gets full marks will receive a fantastic prize of some sort. Anyway, good luck!
1. Joshua had a companion called Achan. Who was his father?
a) Carmi
b) Zerah
2. How many children of Asaph returned from the Babylonian exile?
a) 128
b) 148
3. How many days passed between the Resurrection and the Ascension?
a) They happened on the same day
b) 40 days
4. What sort of animal did Jesus ride into Jerusalem?
a) A colt
b) An ass
5. Did Jesus baptize anyone?
a) Yes
b) No
6. Which Israelite tribe was granted the cities of Eshataol and Zoreah?
a) Judah
b) Dan
7. David had to choose a punishment from God as a result of his unsanctioned census. One of the options was famine – but for how many years?
a) 7 years
b) 3 years
8. Where did Moses brother Aaron die?
a) Mount Hor
b) Mosera
9. What was the relationship of King Jehu to his forebear Nimshi?
a) Son
b) Grandson
10. Whereabouts is Jacob’s grave?
a) Machpelah
b) Shechem
The correct answers will follow in a few days…
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