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Infinite God, Finite Metaphor: A Study of the Metaphorical Jesus
Shelley Schoepflin Sanders
June 6, 1997
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Justification for Approach to Christ as Metaphor
Advantages of Christ as Metaphor
The Historical Jesus Provides Some Elements that No Metaphor Can
Works Cited
Endnotes
The
final belief is to believe in a fiction, which you know to be a
fiction, there being nothing else. The exquisite truth is to know that
it is a fiction and that you believe in it willingly.
-Wallace Stevens
I meant to write a paper about Jesus as metaphor, because I thought the
concept would be helpful for Adventists who tend to march under banners
proclaiming “Literal Truth or No Truth.” I saw how the idea of Christ
as one of many metaphors could help us recognize God’s transcendence,
prevent Christian elitism, make God more approachable for women, and
help Christianity survive modern Historical Criticism. Before I began
reading, I thought that I was quite open-minded, and I expected to
accept any new truths I discovered with joy. I enthusiastically
underlined these words from chapter six of Albert Schweitzer’s Out of
My Life and Thought: “Truth is under all circumstances more valuable
than nontruth . . . . The final result [of the quest for truth] can
never mean injury; it can only mean greater depth. Religion has,
therefore, no reason for trying to avoid coming to terms with
historical truth” (51-2). As I read, however, I came to recognize that
the implicit idea behind seeking a metaphorical Jesus is that the
historical Jesus is somehow not enough. Various authors emphasize
slightly different reasons why Christians should consider viewing Jesus
as a metaphor: for Bultmann, the truth of the Jesus story is relevant
to the modern Christian only once the story is stripped of its mythical
language; for McFague and Tillich, describing God with only one central
character or symbol limits God’s transcendence; for Hick, Schweitzer,
and many other scholars, it is not valid to claim that Jesus was divine
when Jesus himself did not attempt to present himself as divine. I am
disconcerted by this idea that the historical Jesus is not the “One and
Only” (Jn. 1:14, NIV) way to approach God. I had only wanted to look at the metaphorical Jesus; I hadn’t meant to uncover a need to replace a deficient historical Jesus.
I am not happy with my current position on the debate between the
historical and the metaphorical Jesus, and I expect that my ideas on
the subject will continue to evolve. The bulk of this paper seeks to
report some of the successes of the metaphorical Jesus, but I conclude
by explaining some of the areas where the historical Jesus met my needs
better than the metaphorical Jesus. In speaking of the metaphorical
Jesus as if he has replaced the historical Jesus in my theology, I do
not imply that it is impossible to believe in both the metaphorical
Jesus and the historical Jesus. I merely confess that I cannot present
a flawlessly logical amalgam of the two views. As a consequence, this
paper serves to clarify the important questions surrounding the issue
but does not move forward to outline a complete Christology. I join
the group of searchers who, as O’Grady narrates, continue to “seek a
response to that haunting question of Jesus himself: ‘Who do you say
that I am?’” (179).
Justification for Approach to Christ as Metaphor
For the traditional Christian, the idea of interpreting Jesus as
anything more than (or other than) a literal manifestation of the
divine is disturbing. Bible verses like 1 John 4:2,3 have been an
integral part of our theology for nearly 2000 years: “Hereby know ye
the Spirit of God: Every spirit that confesseth that Jesus Christ is
come in the flesh is of God: And every spirit that confesseth not that
Jesus Christ is come in the flesh is not of God: and this is that
spirit of Antichrist” (1 Jn. 4:2, 3 KJV). Despite this blatant warning
against questioning Jesus’ physical manifestation of divinity, human
beings who are actively seeking deeper connection with God look for new
ways to approach the divine.
Perhaps the most natural means to expand our view of God is to describe his/her1
nature in terms of finite objects which we understand better than we
understand God. We emulate the ancient Hebrew authors who wrote “the
Lord is my rock” (Ps. 18:2), “the Lord is my shepherd” (Ps. 23:1), and
“the Lord is my light” (Ps. 27:1). The reader understands that the
Lord is a rock in one sense and a shepherd in another sense, yet it is
clear that the Lord is not only a
rock, a shepherd, or a light. God may be other things as well, and no
one metaphor, or even all the metaphors added up, can describe him/her
fully. In the New Testament, Jesus models a metaphorical approach to
God by using parables to describe his own relationship to the Father.
Examples include the parable of the tenants who kill the vineyard
owner’s son and the story of the ten virgins awaiting the bridegroom.
This process of building metaphors in order to describe the abstract is
a natural part of human thinking, as Sallie McFague points out in the
opening chapters of Metaphorical Theology. In order to put ideas into
a language, we have to use a thought process which makes a connection
between two things. The word used to describe an object both “is and
is not” (19) the thing itself: in the sense that it evokes an image or
concept in the listener’s mind, the word is the thing described, but,
in another sense, of course the word is not actually the thing itself.
McFague mentions that human beings use poetry, song and story to
“redescribe reality” (134). We also develop scientific models, such as
the Bohr model of the atom, to help us understand the physical
phenomena we see. We recognize the poems, songs, stories, and
scientific models as helpful metaphors which give us a better
understanding of reality, but we also recognize that the metaphor both
“is and is not” the actual thing which we are describing.
Paul Tillich, in Dynamics of Faith, makes it clear that humans can
approach an infinite God only through metaphors, symbols, and myths.
Since we cannot actually talk about something infinite, every
expression we make about God, including even the name “God,” is a
symbol which “points beyond itself while participating in that to which
it points” (45). Included in symbolic language, for Tillich, is
mythological language, which describes God’s actions and attributes in
terms of stories. He writes, “There is no substitute for the use of
symbols and myths: they are the language of faith” (51). After
establishing that all language about an infinite God is symbolic,
Tillich points out that people who try to deny the symbolic nature of
the language begin to worship the symbol rather than the infinite God:
“Faith, if it takes its symbols literally, becomes idolatrous! It calls
something ultimate which is less than ultimate” (52). For Tillich,
recognizing that language about God is necessarily symbolic is the only
way to keep from limiting God: “Faith, conscious of the symbolic
character of its symbols, gives God the honor which is due him” (52).
McFague and Tillich agree that we can recognize God’s transcendence
only if we admit that no metaphor can completely describe God. The
logic to this point makes good sense. Its application, however, is
discomforting. Christianity is built on the idea that God became human
in order to reveal his/her nature to humanity. John’s gospel has Jesus
saying, “I and the Father are one,” (Jn. 10:30, NIV) and “Anyone who
has seen me has seen the Father” (Jn. 14:9, NIV). From McFague’s and
Tillich’s explanations of an infinite God, however, we realize that
viewing Jesus as the ultimate revelation of God makes God finite and
comprehensible. If God is not any more than the historical man Jesus,
then God is not infinite. In order to preserve an infinite God and
avoid the idolatry associated with calling a symbol the thing itself,
both Tillich and McFague encourage an understanding of Jesus as a
mythological or metaphorical character. McFague writes, “No
finite thought, product, or creature can be identified with God and this
includes Jesus of Nazareth, who as parable of God both ‘is and is not’
God” (19). For Tillich, our understanding of Christ as a real divine
being manifest in human flesh is fundamentally mythical: “If the
Christ--a transcendent, divine being--appears in the fullness of time,
lives, dies and is resurrected, this is an historical myth. . . . It
is a broken myth [i.e., a myth recognized as
a myth which is not necessarily historically accurate], but it is a
myth; otherwise Christianity would not be an expression of ultimate
concern” (54). For both authors, no model can claim to completely
describe a transcendent God.
I follow the logic of this argument, and yet I am taken aback by the
assertion that the historical Jesus is not enough to describe God
fully. I have always believed that Jesus is not only the best way to
understand God, but that he is the only real
way to understand God. Nonetheless, I cannot argue against the idea
that God ceases to be infinite if we reduce God entirely to a single
finite man whose sketchy biography is recorded in four gospels which at
some points agree and at other points disagree on his words and
behavior. Since McFague and Tillich show that the historical Jesus
cannot be all there is to an infinite God, I am willing to enlarge my
concept of God by exploring the idea of Jesus as a metaphor for God. I
almost feel lured into the realm of metaphorical language by this new
idea that God needs to be more than a single one-time event in
history. With McFague, I feel impelled to explore the idea of Jesus as
“the most complex and multidimensional of all metaphors, with unlimited
possibilities for interpretation” (44).
In their work on this subject, individual theologians and philosophers
have “claimed” certain words for the idea of
Christ-as-other-than-literal. Among the favorites are “symbol”
(Tillich), “sign” (Ricoeur), “parable” (McFague), “metaphor” (McFague
and Hick), and “myth” (Bultmann). Because I am most comfortable with
the term “metaphor” as it is defined by Sallie McFague, I use that term
most frequently in my discussion. By “metaphor,” I mean that thing
which both “is and is not” the thing which it represents. I recognize
that other authors make a technical distinction among the words listed
above, but in order to avoid further convoluting the existing
theological jargon, I shall not attempt to claim any term with a
particular definition of my own.
Advantages of Christ as Metaphor
Within scholarship, and certainly within the individual’s experience,
there are varying degrees of commitment to the idea of Jesus as
metaphor. Prompted by McFague’s and Tillich’s convincing argument that
no finite thing can ever fully define the infinite, I use this section
to explore the idea that Jesus is best understood as metaphor. As I
interpret the New Testament in terms of metaphor, I assume that the
existence of a divine historical Jesus is secondary in importance to
the Truth to be found in the interpretation of Jesus as metaphor--one
who both “is and is not” God. As we shall see, the “is not” portion of
the metaphor acknowledges God’s transcendence, prevents Christian
elitism, makes God more approachable for women, and helps Christianity
survive modern Historical Criticism.
Allowing for God’s transcendence (avoiding idolatry)
We have already developed the most compelling reason to view Jesus as
metaphor: Recognizing that God is not limited to the characteristics
shown in the historical Christ allows God to transcend our human
understanding of him/her, thus preventing idolatrous worship of
something that is less than God.
If we recognize Jesus as metaphor, we place him among a group of
possible metaphors which could describe God. The fact that several
different metaphors are needed to describe God, and the idea that no
one metaphor completely describes him/her leads to the understanding
that God transcends all our human models. We find that no one model
fits exactly, and with this discovery we benefit from a renewed sense
of God’s greatness. If our explanations were ever good enough, we
would have a quantified God.
Although Christianity has traditionally not admitted the limitations
imposed by the incarnation, Islam has long maintained the doctrine that
there is one transcendent God. Muslims have therefore accepted Jesus
as one of the great prophets, but have refused to identify him as
God-incarnate: “It befitteth not (the Majesty of) Allah that He should
take unto Himself a son” (Maryam 19:35). The words of Jesus, like
those of the other patriarchs, are helpful and God-inspired, but Jesus
has no more authority than any of the other God-revealers: “Say (O
Muslims): We believe in Allah and that which is revealed unto us and
that which was revealed unto Abraham, and Ishmael, and Isaac, and
Jacob, and the tribes, and that which Moses and Jesus received, and
that which the prophets received from their Lord. We make no
distinction between any of them, and unto Him we have surrendered”
(al-Baqarah 2:136.36).
I was at first troubled by the suggestion that Jesus is not unique
among those whom God has used to reveal his/her nature. My Christian
tradition has ingrained in me the belief that Jesus is the singular
sacred revelation of God. My distrust of the view of Jesus as one of
several metaphors for the one transcendent God remained until I read
John O’Grady’s book, Models of Jesus. In this small volume, O’Grady
encourages using several models to describe Jesus, from “Jesus the
ethical liberator” to “Jesus the man for others.” His approach is
reminiscent of Paul’s familiar mission statement: “I have become all
things to all people, that I might by all means save some” (1 Cor.
9:22, NRSV). O’Grady lists the strengths and weaknesses of each model,
and suggests that different people will respond positively to different
models. According to O’Grady, no single interpretation of Jesus will
adequately connect the seeker with the divine. Once one accepts that
the very being whom we claim is our connection with God may be, or even
must be, interpreted using several different models, it is not so
difficult to accept that other metaphors can also help us approach
God. O’Grady’s book eases the discomfort of accepting other metaphors,
but the compelling reason to accept multiple metaphors remains the
argument that no finite thing can ever fully define the infinite.
Even a Christian who accepts that Jesus is one of several metaphors
will naturally remain defensive of Jesus as a valuable means for
approaching God. McFague agrees with this position. Although she
wants to show that Jesus is not the only means for approaching God,
McFague is anything but flippant as she describes Jesus’ life on earth
as a metaphor for the human-divine relationship. Since McFague
believes that metaphor is an “unsubstitutable” way to describe the
human relation to the divine, she speaks strongly in defense of
retaining the Jesus metaphor:
Jesus’ work is essential
for our understanding of God. A parabolic christology [sic] is not a
weak or lightweight christology [sic] which sees Jesus merely as a
heuristic fiction, helpful but dispensable. A metaphor is not an
ornament or illustration, but says what cannot be said any other way;
likewise, Jesus as parable of God provides us with a grid or screen for
understanding God’s way with us which cannot be discarded after we have
translated it into concepts. (50, italics in original)
The notion that Jesus as a metaphor is irreplaceable yet cannot stand
alone as a description of the divine is somewhat paradoxical.
Nonetheless, I appreciate the metaphorical view of Christ because it
reminds us that we will never describe God entirely using a finite
symbol. When we realize that our understanding is never complete, we
are motivated to seek out new metaphors for God which lead us on a
journey toward an ever-deeper understanding of our transcendent God.
Providing inclusiveness rather than encouraging elitism
In addition to allowing for an infinite God, the view of Jesus as
metaphor can replace Christianity’s tendency toward exclusivity with a
recognition that other religions offer valid approaches to the one
transcendent God. In his book The Metaphor of God Incarnate, John Hick
asserts that the idea of Jesus as literally God incarnate can produce
an elitist attitude which results in prejudice against other religious
faiths. Hick points out that “the Christian religion is unique [among
other world religions] in having been founded by God in person” (87).
Hick offers examples of the Christian elitism which is based on the
notion that God revealed himself to humanity exclusively through
Christ. The anti-Semitism of World War II can in part be traced to a
Christian righteous anger at a race which did not recognize Jesus as
divine. Almost equally destructive are missionary movements which warp
the cultures of Native Americans, Buddhists, Hindus, Taoists, Africans,
and other religious groups. Hick cries out against this “religious
superiority-complex which readily manifests itself in arrogance,
contempt, condemnation and hostility” (86) toward those of differing
faiths.
To avoid elitism, Hick suggests viewing Jesus as a man who “was so
transparently open to the divine presence that his life and teaching
have a universal significance which can still help to guide our lives
today” (26). We should see Jesus as a helpful metaphor to describe a
human life well-connected with God. However, we ought not to believe
that Jesus is the only “real” way to approach God. Particularly
damaging is the doctrine that members of other religions are truly
saved through Jesus whether they realize it or not. Hick wants us to
recognize “the validity of all the great world faiths as authentic
contexts of salvation/liberation, not secretly dependent upon the cross
of Christ” (88). McFague agrees that “if Jesus is understood as a
parable of God . . . then other religions can make the claim that they
also contain metaphorical expressions of divine reality” (51, italics
in original). If Christians refuse the temptation to see Jesus as the
only metaphor for approaching God, they won’t fall prey to the elitism
which prompts mistreatment of those who hold other faiths.
I recognize that Christ’s claim of “I am the way” can lead to the sort
of prejudice and harmful behavior Hick describes. However, it is no
small thing to sacrifice a world view which has from my youth compelled
me to spread the Jesus story in order to shorten the time until I will
be perfectly united with Jesus at the second coming. If the gospel is
not the only metaphor for approaching God, then certainly, as Hick
points out, I needn’t concern myself with preaching the gospel to all
people. This idea is tough to swallow, particularly in light of the
memory verse which closes Matthew’s gospel: “This gospel of the kingdom
will be preached in the whole world as a
testimony to all nations, and then the end will come” (Mt. 24:14, NIV).
A metaphorical interpretation of Jesus demands a metaphorical
understanding of his words as well. As we shall see later, Rudolf
Bultmann offers one possible metaphorical interpretation of the second
coming: although there may not be a literal return in the clouds, there
is truth in the idea that God’s revelation is not complete, but
continues as a process throughout history. This metaphorical
interpretation negates the Adventist philosophy that we will enter
complete relationship with God only after completing our task of
spreading the gospel throughout the world. Instead, it opens us to a
fluid metaphor which allows complete relationship with God right now.
God’s revelation is no longer limited to one or two single moments in
the whole history of the world. The metaphorical interpretation of the
second coming fits well within the teaching of Jesus in Luke 17:21,
“The kingdom of God does not come with your careful observation, nor
will people say, ‘Here it is,’ or ‘There it is,’ because the kingdom of
God is within [or among, according to the NIV footnote] you.”
Viewing Jesus as metaphor can prevent unhealthy elitism, but it also
requires an adjustment to world view. We can no longer find meaning in
spreading our current revelation of God (the story of Jesus) in hopes
that at some later moment, in “the twinkling of an eye” (Ellen White in
The Spirit of Prophecy Vol.4, p. 464), we might have a full revelation
of God in the second coming. Instead, we are forced to interpret the
second coming metaphorically, seeking meaning in a daily revelation of
God.
Serving women
In addition to preventing Christian elitism, the metaphorical view of
Jesus can prevent sexism. The idea that Jesus, a male, is the
complete revelation of God leads to the idea that men are the true
image of God, while women are secondary beings. Rosemary Radford
Ruether explains that the founding fathers (for they were men) of the
Christian tradition elevated men above women using the idea that God
revealed himself in male form. Ruether quotes St. Augustine’s De
Trinitate 7.7.10:
The woman, together with her own
husband, is the image of God, so that the whole substance may be one
image, but when she is referred to separately in her quality as a
helpmeet, which regards the woman alone, then she is not the image of
God, but as regards the male alone, he is the image of God as fully and
completely as when the woman too is joined with him in one. (Qtd. in
Ruether 95)
This picture of God as fully revealed in male human form contributes to
the patriarchal idea that the masculine is the normal or basic humanity
and that the feminine is “the other.” Because they are taught that
they are the lesser part of humanity, women submit to men, filling
servile roles and failing to develop their potentials fully. Eleanor
McLaughlin points out that Christian women will fully recognize their
equality with men only if “the image of God made Flesh is seen and
experienced as female as well as male. We need a Jesus . . . ‘like
me,’ a woman” (121).
Other women who already recognize their equality can be alienated from
God by a view of a male figure as the literal and complete
manifestation of God. The metaphorical view of Jesus, because it does
not focus on his physical body, moves toward the inclusive,
dual-gendered God which can help humanity recognize the value of both
males and females. When we interpret Jesus as a metaphor for God,
women are no longer any less imago dei than men, and Jesus’ maleness ceases to be a tool for the suppression of women.
Feminists also point out that the doctrine of the virgin birth deprives
both women and men of their sexuality by teaching that the pure and
perfect Jesus could not have come from a physical sexual act. Ruether
describes the philosophy of Mariology, developed in the second-century,
which views Mary as the New Eve. As the New Eve, Mary makes amends for
the fall by bearing the Savior. Mary’s virginity is important in this
idea, representing freedom from the original sin associated with
reproduction after the fall (150-1). If we view the virgin birth as a
necessary historical event, we dishonor the sexual act by linking it
with sin and the fall. A metaphorical view of the virgin birth, in
contrast, shifts the focus of the virgin birth away from the physical
body and toward a helpful symbolic interpretation of incarnation.
One example of a metaphorical interpretation of the incarnation might
make the virgin birth a metaphor for the process of uniting with God.
A Christian’s individuality, like Mary’s body, can become filled up
with God’s will, so that the two are unified. When “the Holy Spirit .
. . [comes] upon you” (Lk. 1:35, NIV), the human being and the divine
“become one flesh” (Gen. 2:24, NIV), and the product is the summit of
perfection: a human being whose will is in accordance with God’s will.
Through her union with the Holy Spirit, Mary brought forth Jesus, who
was the perfect melding of humanity with divinity. The virgin birth
provides symbolic language for the process of a human being submitting
his or her will to God. Only through this submission can a perfect
human being emerge.
This metaphorical interpretation separates the story of the virgin
birth from the physical reality of the sexual act. The historical
interpretation portrays the sexual act as a literal product of our
fallen human nature which must be forfeited before we can approach
divinity. The metaphorical interpretation does not concern itself with
the physical sexual act, but sees the conjugal union as a metaphor for
the joining of humanity and divinity.
The metaphorical Jesus can serve women by affirming their status as
“images of God” and restoring to them a positive view of sexuality.
Surviving historical criticism
A further advantage of interpreting Jesus as a metaphor relates to the
historical criticism which began with the publication of D. F. Strauss’
The Life of Jesus Critically Examined in 1846. With the advent of the
scientific method, which accepts facts only after experimental
verification, theologians have paid more and more attention to the
question of whether or not the historical Jesus is an adequate base for
the Christologies which have developed since his life on earth. The
questions addressed by Form Critics range from the trivial to the
deeply disturbing. Although this paper is not the place for an
exhaustive study of the quest for the historical Jesus, I include a
brief summary in order to give some sense of this impetus for viewing
Jesus as metaphor.
The most logical starting place for those who question the nature of
the historical Jesus is the record of his behavior in the gospels. The
more benign criticism simply compares the gospels’ Jesus with the
Christian doctrines about Jesus, pointing out any inconsistencies. For
instance, some question the idea that Christ was sinless. O’Grady
lists several instances where Jesus speaks caustic words: “The cursing
of the fig tree, the harsh words to his mother, Jesus’ anger with the
scribes and Pharisees, his condescending attitude toward the Canaanite
woman, all of these must be explained away” (43). If Christians do not
explain away these stories about Jesus, Historical Critics demand that
they modify their Christologies to acknowledge that Jesus was not a
sinless being. Albert Schweitzer recommends that Christians embrace
the gospels and align their theology with these texts about Jesus: “Are
we acting in the spirit of Jesus if we attempt with hazardous and
sophisticated explanations to force the sayings into agreement with the
dogmatic teaching of his absolute and universal incapability of error.
[sic] He himself never made any claim to such omniscience” (57).
The doctrine that Christ was sinless is only one of many ideas which
Form Criticism challenges. Probably the most important question
underlying all criticism is whether or not the historical Jesus truly
was divine, or whether he even claimed to be divine. As John Hick
writes, it can “be hazardous to rest a faith in the deity of Jesus on
the historical judgment that he himself implicitly claimed this” (33).
Hick acknowledges without qualm that the Christian idea of Jesus as
divine finds its Biblical basis almost entirely in the last of the four
gospels. The Gospel of John has traditionally been viewed as the least
valid of the four included in the canon, since its portrayal of Jesus
is markedly different than the synoptics. Furthermore, its estimated
date of composition is about 90 C.E., a good twenty years later than
the writing of the first canon gospel, Mark. Ironically, John provides
the bulk of the “I am” statements of Jesus which describe his
relationship with the Father and his role as mediator between God and
humanity.2
The other gospels refer to Jesus as the Son of God, but Hick and other
scholars make the case that the Hebrew understanding of the term “son
of God” was metaphorical, not literal. The term was originally
generic, and may be best translated, as in the Scholar’s Version of
the gospels released after the Jesus Seminar, as “Son of Adam.” Even
the term translated “messiah” or transliterated from Greek as “Christ”
was not originally understood to refer to a divine being. As Hastings’
Dictionary of the Bible explains, a messiah was an “anointed one” set
apart as a divinely chosen leader, but he did not partake of divine
character in the sense of the incarnation. Several kings, prophets,
and priests in the Old Testament are called “messiah,” but our English
Bible translators render the word “the Lord’s anointed” unless they
understand it to refer to Jesus. For instance, David explains his
choice not to kill King Saul by calling Saul the “messiah,” which we
read as “the Lord’s anointed”: “He [David] said to his men: ‘The LORD
forbid that I should do such a thing to my master, the LORD’s anointed,
or lift my hand against him; for he is the anointed of the LORD’” (1
Sam. 24:6, NIV). If, as appears to be the case, the term “messiah”
doesn’t necessarily denote divinity, John is the only canonical gospel
which supports the idea that Jesus was divine. As scholars challenge
more and more of the traditional “proof-texts,” Christians face a
growing body of questions about the divinity of the historical Jesus.
Rudolf Bultmann makes one of the first and most significant attempts to
adapt Christianity to the needs of modern Christians who believe that
truth is found by means of the scientific method rather than through
myth and story. Bultmann seeks to demythologize the New Testament so
that modern Christians can reinterpret the historical events in terms
which make the underlying truth of the events relevant to them as
individuals. I shall describe Bultmann’s work in some detail here in
order to give the reader a sense of both the need for demythologizing
and its consequences.
In his 1952 essay “New Testament and Mythology,” Bultmann makes the
case that the world view presented in the New Testament is
fundamentally mythological. Since the mythological world view of the
New Testament writers gets in the way of the modern Christian’s
approach to truth, Bultmann asserts that demythologizing the New
Testament is the only way to extract its fundamental truths without “a
sacrifice of the intellect which could have only one result--a curious
form of schizophrenia and insincerity” (Kerygma 4). Bultmann believes
that as Historical Criticism continues to destruct the “facts” of
Jesus’ life, people will stop letting the Christ story affect them: “It
is no good telling man that he is a sinner. He will only dismiss it as
mythology. But it does not follow that he is right” (Kerygma 31).
Bultmann seeks, through personal interpretation of the demythologized
Christ story, to salvage the truth from the myth in which it is wrapped
and move humanity closer to God.
Bultmann does not take a wishy-washy position which allows the
acceptance of some ideas with the rejection of the more fantastic.
Rather, he mentions and discards in turn each element of Christianity
which he can trace back to the mythological world view of the New
Testament authors. The second coming of Jesus, since it is based in
the mythical “three-storied universe” (Kerygma 4), is myth, as well as
those doctrines which are based on a world view of humanity as “the
victim[s] of . . . the interference of powers outside [themselves]”
(Kerygma 6). Bultmann rejects belief in spirits, miracles, sacraments,
and the resurrection, as well as the belief that death is the
punishment for sin, the idea that God could be incarnated, and the
doctrine of the atonement. For Bultmann, the truth in Christianity is
accessible for modern Christians only after these myths have been
stripped away: “If the truth of the New Testament proclamation is to be
preserved, the only way is to demythologize it” (Kerygma 10).
Bultmann’s goal is to reach the truth hidden under the cloak of myth,
and he believes that each individual can find the truth if he or she
will reinterpret history and myth in a personal or existential sense.3 For Bultmann the truth within the myth is that humans need to make a decision of faith to allow God to continue to reveal
H--self. This truth--the need to make a decision of faith--is
independent of historical data: “The revelation [in history] is
revelation only in actua and only pro me;
it is understood and recognized as such only in personal decision”
(Myth 68). The historical story of God’s revelation is valuable only
when the individual enters relationship with God in a new revelatory
experience. This new experience of God is existential, for it occurs
within the individual him- or herself. Events such as Christ’s life
and death, for Bultmann, are described in mythological language which
“is only a medium for conveying the significance of the historical (historisch)
event” (Kerygma 37). This philosophy has the advantage of separating
the individual’s faith relationship from the historical facts.
Although the history stimulates the individual to make a decision of
faith, that faith decision is independent of a set of facts: “To
believe at all is qualitatively different from accepting a certain
number of propositions” (Myth 59).
As Bultmann notes, when the individual reinterprets the Christ story
within his or her experience, the story’s real significance comes out:
God’s revelation of H--self is not terminated in Christ. Human beings
are not saved by a once-for-all act, but rather by “mak[ing] the cross
of Christ our own, [undergoing] crucifixion with him” (Kerygma 36).
The cross stands in judgement over humanity, becoming “an ever-present
reality in the everyday life of the Christians” (Kerygma 36-7).
Bultmann, as mentioned earlier, believes that the Biblical second
coming of the Son of Man mythically portrays the fact that God’s
revelation is not stagnant in time. He is willing to sacrifice every
bit of myth surrounding the Christ story in order to preserve what he
calls the “‘eschatological’ process” (Myth 67) of revelation. The
important thing is that Christians are brought to the place where they
can make a decision to allow God’s continued revelation in their
personal lives.
Bultmann affirms that, in the end, the real importance of Jesus is not
his historical nature but rather the relationship that he has to each
individual:
The facts which historical criticism
can verify cannot exhaust, indeed they cannot adequately indicate, all
that Jesus means to me. How he actually originated matters little,
indeed we can appreciate his significance only when we cease to worry
about such questions. Our interest in the events of his life, and
above all in the cross, is more than an academic concern with the
history of the past. We can see meaning in them only when we ask what
God is trying to say to each one of us through them. (Kerygma 35)
Bultmann is not the only one who comes to this position regarding the
historical Jesus. Albert Schweitzer, after writing his Quest of the
Historical Jesus, concluded that the real truth about Jesus is found
when one listens to his command, “Follow thou me!” Once we follow,
Schweitzer writes, “He will reveal Himself” (56).
Paul Tillich also holds that the importance of the historical Jesus is
secondary to the individual’s experience of God: “Faith can say that
the reality which is manifest in the New Testament picture of Jesus as
the Christ has saving power for those who are grasped by it, no matter
how much or how little can be traced to the historical figure who is
called Jesus of Nazareth” (88).
These responses to historical criticism are helpful in one sense but
frustrating in another. The responses do testify that what really
matters to the individual is the connection with God, not the facts
leading to that connection. However, it seems dishonest to simply
avoid the questions raised by Historical Criticism. Although there is
evidence that viewing Jesus as a metaphor can help us remember God’s
transcendence, prevent Christian elitism, and make God accessible for
women, I would prefer to be able to fall back on the historical Jesus
as a sort of safety net--a true revelation of God against which to
judge all my other metaphors. With O’Grady, I feel that “if no one
paradigm provides the final answer, then . . . an acceptance of many
models within a dominant paradigm is the only rational and responsible
approach” (33). Bultmann, Schweitzer, and Tillich, with their
non-empirical answers to the question of the historical Jesus, suggest
that I relinquish my safety net. They have searched for the historical
Jesus and maintained their faith, but the faith they have maintained is
based upon personal experience rather than on scientific data.
I am frustrated by the insufficiency of the data. I want to be free to
choose a metaphorical theology, and acknowledge that I use it, as I
approach God. But I do not want to be forced into the world of
metaphor as if it is the only hope to save a theology slowly
suffocating under the overwhelming influx of historical evidence that
Jesus was really just a man, and only a man.
The Historical Jesus Provides some Elements that no Metaphor Can
If the metaphorical Jesus could adequately replace the historical
Jesus, I would relax with Bultmann, Schweitzer, and Tillich in a
position of faith. With these scholars, I agree that the real issue is
entering a relationship with God, not whether or not Jesus was a
historical reality. However, I am not convinced that a metaphorical
theology allows humans to enter the best relationship with God. The
historical Jesus provides some essential elements which the
metaphorical Jesus cannot: he supersedes the metaphorical Jesus by the
ontological argument; he holds us accountable to a real standard; he
acts as a mediator between God and humanity; pragmatically speaking, he
meets the human need for an object.
Actions: God can’t just be the kind of God who would
The first book in Aristotle’s Nicomachean Ethics makes the point that
one’s true priorities are defined not by words or philosophy but by
actions. The principle that actions are more important than words
drives me to the conclusion that the historical Jesus is superior to
the metaphorical Jesus. When one approaches Christ as metaphor, the
strongest possible message is that God is the kind of God who would
offer Himself to save us. As St. Anselm’s ontological argument points
out, however, there is one thing which could make that beautiful
sacrifice better: its actual existence. Without delving into a
discussion of the mechanism of salvation, I can say that no metaphor
will ever offer the same solidness as a historical fact that God God's
Self actually did come to earth and die a painful death for humanity. The historical Jesus portrays not the kind of God who would, but the kind of God who did.
D. M. Baillie, in an appendix to God Was in Christ, suggests this same
idea. Although he recognizes the difficulties (highlighted by Bultmann)
of reconciling faith with the historical Jesus, Baillie is willing to
accept this tension in order to retain a God who would actually move to
confront humanity in history. Baillie refuses to reduce the Kerygma to
a completely human invention, and he maintains that the existence of
the historical Jesus is important. It is vital, Baillie advocates,
that we see God’s intentionality at work as God reveals H--self through
the historical Jesus: “If we can hear God speaking to us through His
Cross, that is not, as it were, accidental”
(224, italics and capitalization in original). If we say that the
historical Jesus is not the basis for the gospels, we assume that human
beings created the myth of Jesus, thus reducing God from a God who actually works to intervene in human history to the kind of God who would intervene.4
Accountability: There is a right way
One of the strengths of the metaphorical view of Jesus is that it
allows for an unlimited picture of God. While a metaphor of God has
the potential to challenge one’s world view, its metaphorical nature
gives us the right to change it, or rely less heavily on it, if we so
choose. The metaphor, when it gets to hard to bear, is dangerously
easy to discount or discard. Once we acknowledge that we approach God
through metaphor, we can justify gradually shaping our metaphors until
finally we create a god who does not make us too uncomfortable. We can
turn the very metaphors which we had claimed would remind us of God’s
transcendence into artificial bounds which intentionally limit God’s
nature.
When we allow Christ to be symbol and assign ourselves the roles of
interpreters, we begin to create God in our own image. If we enter the
fluidity of metaphor and describe God using a variety of symbols, we
lose an absolute ground against which to judge our constructions of
him/her. With no central symbol against which to judge all other
symbols, we risk deifying the very traits in ourselves which most need
removing. For instance, feminists like Rita Nakashima Brock teach that
a positive metaphor for God would not laud submission to authority, but
would instead encourage autonomous development of the individual’s
intellectual and social and emotional potentials. Brock takes issue
with Jesus as the only manifestation of God because he portrays the
divine ideal as a silent suffering martyr. While a made-over God who
does not demand silent subservience can be helpful for women who think
it morally wrong to resist oppression, a metaphor which encourages the
individual to campaign only for the needs of self is not ideal either.
Women who free themselves from the tyranny of authority only to become
slaves to themselves are still not on the road to becoming whole
individuals. The metaphorical theology forces human beings to create
the best views of God possible, but those views are still finite and
flawed, since they originate in human minds. Humanly created metaphors
can improve our value systems, but they do not move us beyond our value
systems.
One who acknowledges the historical Jesus is not hampered by his or her
inability to create effective metaphors. The historical Jesus
continually confronts the Christian with a reality which critiques
human values and forces us to grow. Christ stands before us without
apology, intoning, “Sell all that you have and give it to the poor and
come and follow me,” “Turn the other cheek,” “Love thy neighbor as
thyself.” Unlike a metaphor, which we recognize as a human creation,
the historical Jesus has the power to hold us accountable to a higher
value system which we would not naturally create for ourselves. If we
believe that Jesus was a real divine incarnation, we can not simply
create our own ideas and call them God’s ideas, unless those ideas fit
within the framework already established by Jesus. In this sense, the
historical Jesus provides the ground or central revelation of the
divine against which to judge all other possible ideas about God.
Mediator: The metaphorical Jesus can be a role model, but he’s no mediator
If humanity needs only a role model or some other form of intellectual
enlightenment in order to approach perfection, the metaphorical Jesus
is adequate. However, if humanity needs an actual mediator in order to
commune with an infinite God, the historical Jesus is the only
salvation.
Role model
What could be so bad?
Jesus had been a good man, and putting faith
in good men was what
we had to do to stay this side of cynicism,
that other sadness.
--Stephen Dunn, “At the Smithville Methodist Church”
The metaphorical Jesus moves people on their way toward God by
providing an example of a human life rightly related to God. After
all, as Dunn writes, Jesus was “a good man.” In his chapter “The Human
Face of God,” O’Grady describes Jesus’ relationship with the Abba
Father. He explains that Jesus “discovered his center was his
relationship to God and thus he could live a harmonious life in which
the outward expression flowed from an inner conviction” (101).
Christians can emulate the metaphorical Jesus’ connection with the
Father.
Bultmann also explores the possibility of the demythologized Jesus
serving as a role model. According to Bultmann, the Jesus story is a
historical myth which each individual should make relevant to him- or
herself by interpreting Jesus as a role model for the decision to allow
God to reveal H--self to the individual. This existentialist
philosophy assumes that human beings need only “reflection” (Kerygma
27) in order to connect with God. Existentialists hold that human
beings just need an intellectual understanding that they are not yet
behaving ideally. They emphasize self-assertion of one’s own
potentialities, preaching, “Become what you are!” (Kerygma 28, italics in original).
Rita Nakashima Brock presents a similar view of Jesus as a role model.
She claims that the real effect of the Jesus story is to inspire
humanity to cooperate with God’s continuing work to save humanity. We
must not assume that Jesus made a once-for-all sacrifice which atoned
for all evil. Instead, Brock writes, human beings are responsible for
participating, as Jesus did, in the continuing work of God to save
humanity. We are to act as “willful agents of salvation” (49) by
creatively loving those about us.
These perspectives are helpful because they highlight a fundamental
difference between the approach to Christ as myth or as literal truth.
An existentialist might conceive of the gospels as humanly-created
stories which contain the underlying truth necessary to jolt the
complacent human being into a recognition of his or her freedom and
responsibility. Since Jesus was “a good man,” the Christ myth can show
people that they ought to behave lovingly, and thus challenge them to
discipline themselves and act correctly.
Mediator
Jesus, whether metaphorical or historical, can certainly serve as a
role model. The metaphorical Jesus only falls short when one tries to
emulate his relationship with God or his behavior toward fellow humans.
One finds, upon studied effort, that connecting with the divine and
behaving unselfishly are not just a matter of intellectually
understanding what goodness is. If the metaphorical Jesus represents
an ideal which I ought to be able to reach, then I am a hopeless
creature, for I daily fail to achieve his standard of love for God,
much less love for my fellows in humanity. The existentialist’s
reflection is not enough. I need redemption.
The New Testament presents a view of humanity congruent with the
frustration I have expressed: “All have sinned and fall short of the
glory of God” (Rom. 3:23, NIV) and “I have the desire to do what is
good, but I cannot carry it out. For what I do is not the good I want
to do; no, the evil I do not want to do--this I keep on doing” (Rom.
7:18, 19, NIV). Humanity needs a historical Jesus who can provide the
saving link to help us stand before God. We need a Jesus who is real and who has a real
connection with God. As O’Grady notes, the historical Jesus can
facilitate the relationship between humanity and divinity because he
has “some knowledge about God himself more perfect than any which a
person has by nature” (49). Even if we ignore the idea that some real
debt had to be paid with blood, the idea behind Christ-in-the-flesh
remains: human beings cannot approach an infinite God nor adequately
love their fellows on their own.
Pragmatics: Jesus meets the need
The bulk of this paper has used philosophical arguments to explore the
attributes of Christ as metaphor and as historical Jew. It would be
dishonest, however, to ignore what is probably the main reason the
historical Jesus has survived for nearly 2000 years. Pragmatically
speaking, the Jesus story provides the security and tangibility needed
by human beings who do not often think abstractly. Like children who
ask, “Is it for reals?”, adult human beings continue to respond more
deeply to a tangible reality than we would to an abstract image. As
McFague affirms,
Metaphors that are literalized affect our attitudes at subconscious levels. If one believes that the death of Jesus is
(literally) a substitutionary sacrifice to free all others from sin and
guilt, that belief will have a more pervasive influence on one’s
attitudes than if one sees it as one interpretation among other
possible ones. (42, italics in original)
The literal historical Jesus survives because human beings who believe
he really was both God and human respond deeply to his story. O’Grady
agrees that the story of Jesus reaches the majority of people where
philosophy would fall short: “Accepting Jesus as the human face of God
also helps believers to relate to and identify with the Lord without
having to worry about theories. Christology, then, is not divorced
from ordinary life and relegated to the lecture halls of academia”
(114). Simply put, Jesus meets a very fundamental need.
The Quandary: Do we need an idol?
The historical Jesus has met humanity’s needs for the last 2000 years
because he provides a tangible framework for the individual to grasp
and claim as truth. Ironically, this tangible expression of divinity
is the very thing the metaphorical Jesus can never provide, for as we
have seen the metaphorical Jesus can only point toward God: Jesus
cannot actually be fully God, for he is a finite human being, and
worshiping a finite thing is idolatrous.
Perhaps the most disconcerting idea which has come from my study of
this subject is the notion that humanity may have made Jesus divine
simply because we need a tangible focus, or object, for our approach to
God. Like the Children of Israel during Moses’ time on the Mountain,
we long for “real” manifestations of the divine. Human nature quite
naturally latches on to icons, rituals, and stories which place the
divine within reach of our finite minds. People develop favorite
symbols, and by repeated use make these symbols absolutely congruent
with the divine. The trouble with believing in this absolute
congruence between Jesus and God, as we have seen, is that it limits
God’s transcendence, encourages Christian elitism, alienates women, and
allows Historical Criticism to destroy faith.
Ironically, even those who view the historical Jesus as a complete
manifestation of the divine still interpret and manipulate Jesus’ words
and actions. This interpretation implies that, despite their claim to
the contrary, they do not view Jesus as a complete manifestation of
divinity. The Christian movement itself began by studying the behavior
of a historical figure and determining by vote at the Nicaean Councils
of the fourth and fifth century that his nature must be both fully
divine and fully human. Following in the footsteps of Christianity’s
founders, modern Christians continue to interpret the words and
behavior of Jesus, often working to smooth the rough edges of his
teachings. Not many can boast that they have literally sold all that
they had and given it to the poor in order that they might follow
Jesus. Christians claim that a principle lies behind the words: that
we ought to care for the poor without necessarily becoming poor
ourselves. Although they hold onto the historical Jesus, Christians do
not accept all he has to say literally. In fact, they ignore or create
watered-down interpretations of many of Jesus’ hard sayings. Consider
the following reinterpretations of some of Jesus’ hard sayings:
Mk. 12:47-50: “Who is my
mother, and who are my brothers?” Pointing to his disciples, he said,
“Here are my mother and my brothers. For whoever does the will of my
Father in heaven is my brother and sister and mother.” (NIV)
SDA Bible Commentary:
Softens Jesus’ apparent rejection of his mother by pointing out that
Jesus truly was committed to his mother (Jn. 19:26, 27) but “even those
closest and dearest to Him had no right to interfere with his work or
to direct how it should be carried out.”
Lk. 9:57-62: A man said
to him, “I will follow you wherever you go.” Jesus replied, “Foxes
have holes, and birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has no
place to lay his head.” He said to another man, “Follow me.” But the
man replied, “Lord, first let me go and bury my father.” Jesus said to
him, “Let the dead bury their own dead, but you go and proclaim the
kingdom of God.” Still another said, “I will follow you, Lord; but
first let me go back and say good-by to my family.” Jesus replied, “No
one who puts his hand to the plow and looks back is fit for service in
the kingdom of God.” (NIV)
SDA Bible Commentary: On the
“let the dead bury their own dead” remark, the commentary has this to
say: “The emphasis seems to have been, ‘If you are not spiritually
dead, it is your business to go and preach the kingdom of God. Leave
the burial of those who are physically dead to those who are
spiritually dead.”
Mt. 10:34-37: “Do not
suppose that I have come to bring peace to the earth. I did not come to
bring peace, but a sword. . . . Anyone who loves his father or mother .
. . or his son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me.” (NIV)
SDA Bible Commentary: Jesus is the ultimate Peace-maker, but peace with God often brings war on earth.
Those who make these gentle interpretations of the hard sayings of
Jesus imply that even the words of Jesus himself can’t give us a clear
and complete picture of God. In other words, even those who hold that
Jesus is the real and complete manifestation of the divine see a need
to interpret his words and behavior in much the same way as one would
interpret a metaphor.
Although this paper has clarified some of the issues surrounding the
metaphorical Jesus, I am not yet sure how to reconcile the historical
and metaphorical interpretations of Jesus. The metaphorical
interpretation has the strong advantage of sidestepping idolatry,
Christian elitism, sexism, and Historical Criticism. In addition, it
seems to be the most honest approach, given that even those who claim
the historical Jesus still manipulate his words and behavior with the
idea that “God can’t really have meant that exactly, can he/she?” Nonetheless, the historical Jesus is hard to beat if one feels the need for a God who did come
and die, who can hold us accountable, and who acts as a mediator
between Divinity and humanity. Furthermore, humanity needs an object
to hold up as divine. Like the Children of Israel, we tend to create
our own golden calf as an idol.
It’s possible that we enter idolatry and cut ourselves off from a
transcendent God whenever we forget that no finite being or story can
fully describe the divine. At the same time, however, it’s possible
that God recognizes our need for an object to make God’s nature known,
and that he/she provided Jesus as that object in order that we might
approach God more easily. From McFague and Tillich I gather that one
can use the Jesus story to approach God, but that one mustn’t slip into
believing that Jesus is the only or the complete revelation of God.
One could argue that unless we remember that Jesus cannot be the
complete manifestation of the divine, Jesus-worship is actually
idolatrous . On the other hand, the strength of the Jesus story lies
in the very paradox of God becoming a limited human being in order to
connect with humanity. The pragmatic reason the historical Jesus has
survived, we’ve said, is that he fills humanity’s need for an object--a
literal fixed being whom we can hold on to and worship as Divine.
Perhaps in the end the same tension which McFague associates with a
metaphor must be preserved within our Christianity. Perhaps just as
the metaphorical Christ “is and is not” God, the historical Jesus may
“be and not be” metaphor. Even if the historical Jesus truly is God,
and therefore “is not” metaphor, our understanding of his incarnation
is finite. We have only the New Testament--some 250 odd pages of
translated gospels, letters, and prophecies about that incarnation. A
finite record of Jesus’ life can never fully describe the infinite God
we worship. In this sense, then, Jesus “is” an excellent metaphor for
approaching God, but his description in the New Testament is limited
and therefore “is not” a full manifestation of the divine. The
historical Jesus, once his story is confined to sentences and
paragraphs, becomes a finite symbol which can help us approach God but
which cannot fully be God.
I’m dissatisfied with this idea because it does not fully reconcile the
historical and metaphorical approaches to Jesus. If we acknowledge
that our New Testament Jesus is a metaphor, even if his historical
predecessor truly was God, we lose some of the authority of the
historical Jesus. Since the gospels’ record of Jesus’ words and
actions are taken as incomplete manifestations of divinity, we can’t
hold his sayings and behavior up as unalterable imperatives. However,
maintaining that the historical Jesus was really divine, although our
understanding of him is metaphorical, does allow him to play the role
of mediator between humanity and God.
In addition, the idea of the historical Jesus who “is and is not” metaphor maintains the power of a God who did act
to reach out to humanity. In fact, it makes the divine sacrifice even
more real. We can understand John’s Word, which “was God” and “was in
the beginning with God” (Jn. 1:1-2, NRSV) as the symbol for God. That
Word or symbol “became flesh and lived among us” (Jn. 1:14 , NRSV). In
this sense, God actually did
move to connect with humanity. Modern Christians who adopt an “is and
is not” approach to the idea of the historical Jesus as metaphor retain
not only their amazement at God’s becoming flesh, but also gain a new
source of wonder: God not only became flesh, but he/she became words on
parchment. After Jesus left Earth, the divine became even more
limited--limited not only to human body but now to human words telling
about that human body. These words, the gospel and New Testament,
constitute the metaphor of Jesus. It is truly astonishing that God
willingly limited his/her transcendence, becoming words on a page, in
order to connect with humanity. We can appreciate this sacrifice and
open ourselves to further revelation of God when we view both these
words and the Word they describe not as if they were exclusively
literal, but instead as metaphors for the transcendent God.
Works Cited
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Baillie, D. M. God Was in Christ: The historical Jesus and the message
of Christ woven into the doctrines of the Incarnation and Atonement.
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Brock, Rita Nakashima. “Losing Your Innocence but Not Your Hope.”
Reconstructing the Christ Symbol: Essays in Feminist Christology. Ed.
Maryanne Stevens. New York: Paulist Press. 1993.
Bultmann, Rudolf, et al. Kerygma and Myth. Ed. Hans Werner Bartsch.
Trans. Reginald H. Fuller. New York: Harper & Brothers. 1961.
Dunn, Stephen. “At the Smithville Methodist Church.” New American Poets
of the ‘90s. Ed. Jack Myers & Roger Weingarten. Boston: David R.
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Funk, Robert W., Hoover, Roy W., and the Jesus Seminar. The Five
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Endnotes
1) I apologize for the awkwardness of my attempts at
gender-inclusive language here and throughout the paper. Maintaining a
neutral stance regarding God’s gender preserves God’s transcendence and
includes women in imaging the divine where they have traditionally been
excluded. However, some price is paid in terms of readability.
2) In 1985, a Jesus Seminar was organized with the
agenda of finding all the sayings attributed to Jesus (both within and
outside the Bible) and classifying them as either truly spoken by Jesus
(red), possibly spoken by Jesus (pink), similar to something which
would have been said by Jesus (grey), or definitely not spoken by Jesus
(black). The two hundred scholars involved in the seminar met twice a
year starting in 1985, listened to papers, held debates, and finally
voted on the authenticity of each saying. By determining which of the
sayings attributed to Jesus are most likely truly his, the Jesus
Seminar hoped to rediscover the identity of the true historical Jesus.
In the book The Five Gospels (the synoptics, John, and the Gospel of
Thomas), the Jesus Seminar’s new Scholar’s Version translation is
published with each saying of Jesus printed in either red, pink, grey,
or black ink, depending upon how the scholars voted regarding that
statement’s authenticity. The entire Gospel of John contains less than
five statements which were voted pink or grey, and no statements were
voted red.
3) Bultmann’s existential interpretation of history is based on his reading of Heidegger’s philosophy.
4) Bultmann does see that the Christian needs a God who
acts to reveal his/her love (Kerygma 13, 32). However, Bultmann holds
that the mythological character of Jesus (as opposed to the historical,
“real,” Jesus character) is a sufficient revelation of this love.
Copyright © 2003, Shelley L. and Brandon C. Schoepflin Sanders
All Rights Reserved
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