Greek and Roman writers, she says, created parodies of the
many so-called prophets. To them, Jesus was just another claimant putting on
the mantle of son of God. While in the marketplace, magicians, witches, and astrologers promised health cures, in the temples, people asked divine beings
for help by offering miniature models of their afflicted anatomy. Some practitioners used tricks to make the blind
see, the lame walk, and the dead rise because it helped businesses boom. So how could
they tell if Jesus was the real deal?
Besides his message, what set Jesus apart was tradition. Yet
Apollonius of Tyana (b. 15 CE, d. 100 CE) had a similar backstory: An angel
visited his pregnant mother; the heavens marked his birth with a lightning
bolt; he preached and gained followers; he raised the dead; the Romans put him
on trial; he vanished, presumably died, and then reappeared to his followers. Nixey
argues Jesus and Apollonius’ trials and deaths are foreshadowed
by the philosopher Socrates (c. 470 BCE to 399 BCE).
There’s no doubt that the historical Jesus existed. Yet anomalies exist about his life in the New Testament, like two gospels claiming his virgin birth while other canonical books give Joseph the credit and provide his and Mary’s ancestry. As the cult of Jesus spread, some followers incorporated their own ideas and stories, plus bits of other faiths and spiritual leaders into their religion.
(For more on the branches of Christianity, check out Lance
Grande’s charts and text in The
Evolution of Religions: A History of Related Traditions.)
At this juncture, I expected Nixey to slap back with how the
New Testament created uniformity for Christian beliefs. She
does explore the Apocrypha and the Nag Hammadi scrolls and how their stories add
to the Bible. But I had hoped she’d mention how the official canon was
chosen, why she thinks some books were not included, and tempt us with the possibility
of secrets hidden in the Vatican Apostolic Archives or in undiscovered caves.
Instead, we read how Christianity grew exponentially when Emperor Constantine (c. 272 to 337 CE) converted to Christianity and how Roman roads carried the Christian message to the far reaches of the empire and beyond. And then, since she’s a classicist scholar, Nixey bemoans the great loss of Greek and Roman art, manuscripts, and buildings—destroyed by the Holy Roman Empire. Between that, the horror of the Crusades, the laws of persecution, and the unholy desire to control the world, I’d say the Church also stomped on Jesus’ main message: Love.
The closing chapters show how Christianity tried to erase the classical world—its pantheon of gods, philosophy, science, medicine, law, literature, arts, and architecture—in deference to the Church’s desire for control and real estate.
Heretic is a work of history not theology, as Nixey states
in the author’s note. It’s written for popular audiences.
rating: ⭐⭐⭐
Heretic: Jesus Christ and the Other Sons of God
by Catherine Nixey
Mariner Books
