I am, self-declaredly, and quite honestly, a cynic; and one whose conversation and humour is laced with sarcasm. I am also a trained historian taught to be scrupulous in research, exacting in sources consulted and discerning in the texts chosen. In short, an historian is trained to be cynical of what he or she reads and takes nothing at face-value.
A stumbling block to faith for me then, the titular cynical historian, has therefore always been the historicity of the figure of Jesus – did the man, the literal son of God, actually exist? The doubting thought plagued my every religious pondering.
Where was the historical evidence? The agreeing sources testifying the existence of Jesus Christ the Nazarene born in Bethlehem, then Roman Judea, where too were they? The Inner cynical historian scoffed, wholly oblivious to the fact that if I bothered to look beyond my substantial nose, then I would have discovered what I sought; for there in the historical annals of the Roman historians Tacitus and Suetonius one will read, admittedly brief, but nonetheless mentions of Jesus Christ and the early Christian communities.
The mind’s appetite was whetted...
Was I to dismiss these reputable historians’ mentions of Christ as fabrications, latterly inserted references as some have claimed? Do this, and accept wholeheartedly, that what they said concerning the customs and habits of the Roman Empire were entirely well-founded? Casting doubt about the veracity of Tacitus and Suetonius’ accounts of Christ would in turn place a question mark over their entire works, the collective body of which is the basis for everything we ‘know’ about the Romans and their civilisation.
There are those who seek to suggest that these histories have been altered to include mentions of Christ, but then that would detract from their historical worth entirely, not partially. It is like discovering a plagiarised paragraph in an essay or book, that doesn’t call into question merely the page, but the whole work, and even the author.
Following the rules of historical research and textual analysis would show that there is more historical evidence for the existence of Jesus Christ than Alexander the Great. There are more extant copies of, historicity wise, reliable Gospels than copies of Herodotus’ Histories for example; this body of evidence would prove, at least enough for me, that Jesus Christ definitely existed.
In fact it is easier to prove Christ’s existence, than disprove it. The tools by which aspersions are cast over the historicity can be directed against any and every historical figure of the ancient and classical world. Unfortunately the historicity of the Bible is beyond a blog, limited by time and space as to how many points can be made.
However, the historian within compelled me to consult the mentions of Jesus in accounts other than the New Testament. My search brought me to Flavius Josephus, a Jewish historian and Roman citizen. Josephus writes:
“Now, there was about this time Jesus, a wise man, if it be lawful to call him a man, for he was a doer of wonderful works – a teacher of such men as receive the truth with pleasure. ... He was the Christ;”
Reading the above extract in its entirety was another ‘eureka’ moment. That last part: ‘He was the Christ’ sunk into my skull as though Josephus was exhaling a sudden realisation, it dawning on him right then of whom he was writing. The crucial part of the above is how Josephus alludes to the debate over Christ’s nature; a man simultaneously divine, or one or the other. It’s that aspect of Christianity that I guess I was struggling with, and others have struggled with too, to the point of agnosticism, atheism and questioning Christ’s existence.
Nikos Kazantzakis, the Greek author of The Last Temptation of Christ terms the duality of Jesus’ nature the mystery of Christianity. Kazantzakis suggests that this duality of substance has a universal appeal; “The struggle between God and man breaks out in everyone, together with the longing for reconciliation”. Now for years I had perhaps busied myself with thoughts resembling Kazantzakis’, but my attempts to contemplate Christ’s humanity minus his divinity, and vice-versa, were fruitless. Some things, even in order to be contemplated, are not divisible.
If one tries to work out an algebraic equation of X + Y = Z, one cannot begin by stating X=Z, the only way that would work is if Y = 0, and that would be the very negation impossible in the mystery of Christ. C. S. Lewis, the Cambridge don and a devout Christian dismissed those who sought to theorise about Christ, recasting Jesus as a great moral teacher.
Lewis said: “You must make your choice. Either this man was, and is, the Son of God: or else a madman or something else. ... But let us not come with any patronising nonsense about His being a great human teacher. He has not left that open to us. He did not intend to.”
What Lewis is saying is that Christianity demands of the believer, or would-be believer, to accept the simultaneous divinity and humanity of Christ as the truth. You cannot compromise for the sake of logic or rationalism on the subject of the key Christian mystery. In approaching Christianity you must deploy faith and belief ahead of the plunge, underlined by the metaphorical statement of accepting that God will provide, provided you believe. What Christianity demands is nothing short of a leap of faith.
The point I have ambled my way through a blog to make is that I was intellectualising about something that can’t and shouldn’t be intellectualised about. God does not ask that you be a genius, or intelligent, erudite or well-read, He asks that you have faith and that you undertake a journey towards gaining or regaining that faith, stay true to the precepts of that system of belief as you would stay true to a set road leading to a given destination. Faith focuses you on your journey’s end as much as it guides your path to it.
But that’s the crucial part in approaching the teachings of Christ; faith. Faith creates the Christian. I’m not saying I’m there yet, not by a long shot, I’m at best a Christian-in-progress, working to cultivate his faith. The Alpha Course revealed to me that within me was this little green shoot, and it offered me the promise that if I nurture it, and help it along, then something beautiful just might grow.
For now though, I’ve run out of blog space.
©Ara Iskanderian
