“Was Jesus a Jew?” (and other matters)….

I would like to stress that the above question is not mine, but one that was put to me this week. It was not asked by someone trying to be smart or make a point or start a debate. They simply did not know the answer and were curious. Being unclear about Jesus origins is perhaps forgivable given centuries of (mainly) European “Christian” art that has tended to portray Him as relatively light skinned, with shiny hair and a very well trimmed beard. Centuries of creating Him in our own image, in the same way that fallen humanity always does with God. The question cropped up in the context of a conversation about Christmas as we shared our mutual dislike of many of its contemporary features. Although this was, and for some of us still is, an opportunity to celebrate the incarnation of the second person of the Trinity (the Word being made flesh as John puts it), Christmas has all but completely morphed into a secular celebration of general niceness, bonhomie and wistfulness. And in this form it is built around various myths.

I am fairly sure that my friend is sure that these myths are myths. Small children, should any be in the vicinity, should perhaps be ushered out of the room at this point – you have been warned. But we all realise that the idea that the presents that appear on the morning of 25^th December, often laid under a fir or pine tree (whether real or synthetic) are not placed there by a stranger in a red suit and white beard on the basis of merit accumulated in the previous twelve months. He who shall remain nameless (but about whom many a parent lies to their offspring) is made up, as is the historical hinterland often attributed to him. Other inventions that appear at this time of year include three wise men and inns with sympathetic inn-keepers but no room. Given the accretion of this mythology, and the widespread Biblical illiteracy that is a feature of the culture, it is not really a surprise to find doubts arising about that other central figure of Christmas, and still the star of many a school nativity, Jesus.

Of course one can investigate who Jesus is, and I would argue that any educated person should. A sensible place to start would be the Biblical accounts of His birth. But here we find something that seems rather strange (as well as lots of things that are contested). Only two of four Gospel writers (Matthew and Luke) include birth narratives in their accounts at all. Mark (who was probably first to produce a Gospel) and John (who probably wrote after the others) both begin their accounts with Jesus’ baptism, when he was aged approximately 30. The most detailed birth narrative occurs in Luke, but he provides almost as much detail about the birth of Jesus' relative John the Baptist (whose birth we never celebrate). And yet for two or three months of every year, thanks to the relentless focus of advertisers and media, you might think that Jesus’ birth is a key event we should focus on. Apparently this was neither the view of 50% of the Gospel writers or, for that matter, the early Church.

For the first two or three centuries of the Church’s existence, more prominence was given to Jesus' baptism (celebrated in the Feast of the Epiphany in January) and His death and resurrection (celebrated at Easter – in spring, and for a while a literally moveable feast). In part this was because birthdays in general were yet to take on their modern significance. So it took a while for consensus to emerge as to when Jesus was born. And at the time there were much more important issues that had to be settled. Besides, precise dates were not much of a thing in the ancient world. So initially, estimates of His month of birth ranged from November to March. Only gradually was December 25^th adopted (at least for liturgical purposes) in part so that a celebration of Jesus birth might displace more dubious pagan celebrations.

Perhaps this Biblical and early Church disinterest in focussing on Jesus birth was also because while it was obviously necessary for what came next, and while it was surrounded by a number of heavy hints as to His significance, it was in some ways profoundly ordinary. And concentration on it, to the exclusion of the rest of what we’re told about Him, runs the risk of “perpetual baby syndrome”. In our minds He forever remains a cute and suspiciously quiet (according to “Away in a manger”) infant. Yet beyond his birth we need to understand the life He led, what He said and did, and not miss the significance of the death He died. However you view these things, cute would hardly be an adequate description. What He did outraged and astonished in equal measure. What He claimed, explicitly as well as implicitly, needs to be carefully weighed. For these are not mere matters of the historical record. The critical call that Jesus made (and makes) is not so much that we must reckon with His birth, but that His life and death having continuing personal as well as cosmic significance. And of this is validated by His resurrection perhaps the most significant event in history, at least so far.

Questions like the one my friend was asking can be answered. We can certainly establish where Jesus was born, and the circumstances surrounding His birth. We can be sure of His ethnicity (He was a Jew), and His heritage (with regard to His human descent He was from the tribe of Judah, though the kingly line of David), and see how his coming fulfilled ancient promises and patterns. I contend that none of this is myth, nor is it merely history, and all of it is significant. By all means enjoy contemplating His birth, but don’t get stuck.

Personally, I comfort myself with the thought that although it’s almost Christmas, Easter is just around the corner.

Just for tonight….

This blog is time limited. By the time you get round to reading it, it may well not be worth reading (if it ever is). I have been inspired to write it by three coinciding occurrences. The first is the noise outside my study window. It is the evening of the 5^th November, and Scousers really, really, like their fireworks. So, this time of year (and actually over several days), all the bangs, booms and whistles mean that it sounds like warfare has broken out. It hasn’t of course. Note that this is in no way to minimise the experience of those elsewhere on this continent who tonight will attempt to go to sleep knowing that what they are hearing nearby is the sound of actual war. Fortunately for us the noise is a reminder of violent times mercifully far in the past, not the sound of ongoing hostilities. There was a time when a subset of a subset of a disaffected political and religious minority attempted to blow up our Parliament. The issues were settled, or at least became less resonant, a long time ago. Now November 5^th is just an excuse to let off fireworks and build bonfires. In comparison with those former times the political issues that divide us now are relatively trivial. Politics still has its plots, but they don’t involve gunpowder and nobody dies. I for one am grateful; I’m assuming none of us would want to go back.

Meantime, on the other side of the Atlantic, US citizens (or at least a sizeable proportion of them) are carrying out that most basic of democratic obligations, to vote in an election for those who will hold power and make and unmake laws. Unusually at the moment no-one knows what the outcome will be. The opinion polls in the critical states have been statistically tied for weeks. Just like the system of elections here, US system, while imperfect, is basically sound. Everyone knows (or at least could know if they paid attention in the civics classes they have to take in school) how the system works. If someone thinks a rule has been broken, or a shortcut taken, if they think that their side has been egregiously disadvantaged, then they have one of the most active legal systems in the world where issues can be aired and examined. For every presidential election (and for many others) both major parties in the US stand up large numbers of lawyers and observers, and complaints and legal action can mean the campaign continues long after the last vote is cast. But usually the issues are settled, a winner emerges, and life moves on. That is until recently.

I have no vote in this particular election. I am an observer from afar. Like many Brits, I have a real liking for the US. But in last the few months we have seen the return of the great narcissist who has managed to appeal to a sizeable minority who feel they have no stake in the “system” as it is. Together they have constructed their own reality and sealed it off from any semblance of the “real” world. Admittedly cause and effect are difficult to discern in this context. And of course the idea that there is a real world has been hotly disputed for a considerable period of time. But a relatively new, popular form of social-media stoked nihilism has allowed one Donald J. Trump to compete for, an occasionally attain, political power. He talks to minority and “for” them. He has no liking for the “system” (“them”, “the deep state”) and claims that “it” knows this and has targetted and persecuted him. He claimed that he won last time out in 2020 but “it” stole the election from him. His supporters believed him then and do so now. When the issues were actually investigated (and there were issues) it quickly become clear that “the great steal” was a fiction. In court after court, when legitimate legal means were used to claim and highlight important irregularities, they mysteriously disappeared. He then famously use illegitimate (and potentially illegal) means to orchestrate a riot during the certification of the election result in Congress, a riot which ended up costing lives. The various constitutional mechanisms prevailed and Biden won, Trump lost. His actions around January 6^th 2021 continue to be the subject of legal action (which he will no doubt put a stop to if elected). Over the last four years he has suffered other legal setbacks including being found in a civil action to be a sexual harasser (we already knew from his own lips that he was a misogynist), and being found guilty of violating New York State campaign finance law, with other cases pending or at earlier stages. Yet by their votes his loyal supporters, who think this is all evidence of persecution, might well provide him again with the attention, position and prestige that he craves. Let us hope they only seek to do this with their votes. If again Trump loses narrowly (Biden’s win in 2020 was far from a ringing endorsement of his policies), it will not take many of his more intemperate followers, perhaps again roiled up by the type of wild accusations that are currently appearing on his social media accounts as I type, to cause real difficulty. Here in the UK we navigated a peaceful transition of power earlier in the summer (reflected on here). Our politics has by and large banished violence to the very fringes to the extent that it hardly figures at all at a national level. We can but wish the same for our US friends. In a few hours we will find out.

And just as all this was going on, one of our TV networks made the West Wing available for streaming again. I have made no secret in the past about being a fan. In Episode 3 Toby Zeigler is to be found complaining about a lack of basic decency in politics. If only he knew. The odd thing is that many of the views held by the snappy talkers in the Bartlett West Wing are actually not particularly in tune with my own. This fictional administration was probably well to the “progressive” left of my own thinking. But then they were all decent, humane and reasonably competent. And the man at the top had a moral compass that pointed in an acceptable general direction. As golden ages go, it was civilised, witty and… golden. It was fiction of course. In the real world (that again) there has never been a golden age and if we ever get to the sunlit uplands we’ll claim we’re greatly disappointed. Or at least that’s what a sizeable proportion of us will say because we’ll have found other things to moan about.

Aha! The fireworks are all but silent. Hopefully all will also be (relatively) calm on the other side of the Atlantic. Not long now.