JR62: Seventh & Final Step: Remove the Thorn in Jesus' Flesh (That Would Be Paul)

A: We've talked a lot on this site and on the Concinnate Christianity blog about the differences between your teachings and Paul's teachings. Many readers will say there's not much evidence in the Bible for the differences you and I claim. What would you say to Progressive Christians who want to "have their Jesus and keep their Paul, too," who want to make you, Jesus, more credible, without actually giving up any of their cherished Pauline doctrines?

J: They make me look like a dweeb, to be honest. An ineffectual, wimpy, turn-the-other-cheek kind of guy.

A: Which you were not.

J: They say they want to save me from the fundamentalist Christian right and the secular humanist left, yet they're forcing me to sit down at the Tea Party table with Paul, which is the last place I want to be. I'm a middle of the road social democrat, and I believe with all my heart and soul that a society can't function in a balanced way unless rights and responsibilities are given equal weight in all spheres of life. Paul was a man who taught about rights, rights, rights and not nearly enough about responsibilities. He and I had very different values.

A: Paul talks about punishments.

J: Yes. Paul talks about divine punishment and divine testing. He talks about his freedom -- his right -- to speak with divine authority. He talks about the need for self-discipline. He talks about divine rewards. But, you know, when you look carefully at what he's written, he doesn't speak to the soul of his listeners. He doesn't challenge them to see each of their neighbours as a separate person worthy of respect. Instead he does the opposite: he encourages them to see themselves as non-distinct members of a vast "body of Christ." Paul, instead of insisting that people build solid interpersonal boundaries -- which are the foundation of safety and respect and mutuality between individuals -- tells people to dissolve those boundaries. It sounds good on paper, but "Oneness" does not work in reality. If you encourage the dissolution of interpersonal boundaries, you'll see to your horror that the psychopaths in your midst will jump in and seize that "Oneness" for themselves. They won't hesitate to use it to their advantage.

A: Because they have no conscience.

J: Humans (as well as angels on the Other Side) are all part of One Family. But this isn't the same as saying humans are all "One." As anyone who comes from a big family knows, respect for boundaries is the grease that keeps you from killing each other.

A: It can be tricky to manoeuvre all the boundary issues in a big family.

J: Yes. You need all the brain power you can muster to stay on top of the different needs of different family members.

A: Spoken like a man who came from a big family.

J: When you're the youngest son in a family with three older brothers and two sisters (one older, one younger), you catch on fast to the idea of watching and learning and listening to the family dynamics so you don't get your butt kicked all the time.

A: It's real life, that's for sure.

J: That's the thing. It's real life. It's not about going off into the desert to live as a religious hermit. It's not about living inside walled compounds or hilltop fortresses. It's about living with your neighbours and learning to get along with them through communication and compromise and empathy. It's not fancy, but it works.

A: The Gospel of Mark makes this message very clear.

"Then he ordered them to get all the people to sit down in groups on the green grass. So they sat down in groups of hundreds and of fifties. Taking the five loaves and the two fish, he looked up to heaven, and blessed and broke the loaves, and gave them to his disciples to set before the people; and he divided the two fish among them all. And all ate and were filled" (Mark 6:39-42). Photo of hills in the Cotswolds, UK. Credit JAT 2023.

 
J: Christians have long assumed that the author of Luke truly believed in my teachings and was trying his best to convey them in a fresh way to a new generation of believers. Luke, of course, had no interest in my teachings, and was instead trying to promote Paul's package of religio-political doctrines. This is seen most obviously in the so-called Great Omission -- the complete absence in Luke of Mark's most important theological statement. Luke cut and pasted many parts of Mark's gospel, and thereby changed their meaning. But he didn't even try to include the dangerous theology found in Mark 6:47- 8:27a. He ignored it and hoped it would go away.

A: Why? Why did he want it to go away?

J: Mark's gospel, as we've been discussing, was a direct rebuttal of Paul's First Letter to the Corinthians. Paul wrote first, and in the middle of his letter he included 3 linked chapters on freedom and conscience, authority and obedience, sin and salvation, as these themes revolve around food -- idol meat and, more importantly, the blood and bread of Christ (1 Cor 8:1-11:1). We can call this set-piece the "Idol Meat Discourse." In this set-piece, Paul makes a number of claims about God that Mark, following my example, found particularly galling. Mark countered these claims by writing his own 3-chapter set-piece (Mark 6:30-8:26). I'm going to call Mark's set-piece "the Parable of the Idol Bread." This was Mark's head-on attack against Paul's Eucharist.

A: Mark didn't support the sacrament of the Last Supper?

J: Mark knew that Paul's speech about sharing in the blood and body of Christ (1 Cor 10:14-22) was a thinly veiled Essene ritual, the occult Messianic Banquet that had grown out of earlier, more honest offerings of thanks to God. I rejected the notion of the Messianic Banquet, with its invocation of hierarchy and status addiction. Mark rejected it, too.

A: Right before Mark launches into his Parable of the Idol Bread, he includes an allegorical tale about a banquet held by Herod and the subsequent beheading of John the Baptist (which we know didn't actually happen).

J: Yes. Mark uses a lot of sophisticated allegory in his gospel. (Plus I think the less loving aspect of him wanted to see John's head end up on a platter, which is where he thought it belonged.) Mark leads up to his set-piece -- which, of course, is an anti-Messianic-banquet -- by tipping off the reader to an upcoming inversion of religious expectations. He's telling them not to expect Paul's easy promises and glib words about "Oneness." He's telling them to prepare themselves for an alternate version of Jesus' teachings about relationship with God.

A: What was that alternate version? 

J: It was a radical vision of equality before God, of inclusiveness and non-Chosenness. It was a vision of faith without status addiction. Of faith and courage in numbers. Of freedom from the slavery of the Law. The love of a mother for her children (including our Divine Mother's love for her children!). A relationship with God founded on trust rather than fear. The healing miracles that take place in the presence of love rather than piety. The ability of people to change and let go of their hard-heartedness (ears and eyes being opened). The Garden of Eden that is all around, wherever you look, if you're willing to see and hear the truth for yourself. The failure of both the Pharisees and the Herodians to feed the starving spiritual hearts of the people. The personal responsibility that individuals bear for the evil things they choose to do. The importance of not idolizing the words of one man. (There's no lengthy "Sermon on the Mount" in Mark as in Matthew; in fact, there's no sermon at all, let alone a set of laws carved on stone tablets!)

A: That's a lot to pack into three short chapters.

J: This is why I refer to Mark's set-piece as a parable. As with any properly written parable, the message isn't immediately obvious. You have to use all your heart and all your soul and all your mind and all your strength in order to suss out the meaning.

A: I noticed when I was doing my research papers for a New Testament exegesis course that the setting of Mark's Parable of the Idol Bread is crucial. Not one but two major teaching events with miraculous endings take place out in the middle of nowhere near the Sea of Galilee. There's no proximity to important sacred sites such as Jerusalem or Jericho or the Dead Sea or the River Jordan. There's no Greco-Roman temple or Jerusalem Temple. There's no holy mountain. There's no sacred stone. There's no palace or patron's villa. But there's a lot of green grass, with enough room for everybody to recline in groups (as in a Roman banquet) and share the event together.

In the middle section, in Chapter 7, Mark shows you leaving Galilee to carry out more healing miracles, but these healings take place in Gentile areas -- everywhere but the sacred site of David's city. You can tell Mark doesn't think too much of Jerusalem's elite.

J: Mark had a scathing sense of humour, much like Jon Stewart's. When he wrote his gospel, he was thinking of it as a parable and a play at the same time. He wanted the actions of the actors to speak to the intent of the teachings.

A: Actions speak more loudly than words.

J: Yes. He wanted people to picture the actions, the geographical movements, that changed constantly in his story but never went close to Jerusalem in the first act of his two-act play. His Jewish audience would have understood the significance of this.

A: Tell me about the Idol Bread.

J: The meaning of the bread in Mark's parable makes more sense if you look at the Greek. In Mark's parable, and again at the scene of the so-called Last Supper in Mark 14, the bread in question is leavened bread -- artos in the Greek -- not unleavened bread, which is an entirely different word in Greek (azymos). Mark shows me constantly messing with the bread and breaking all the Jewish laws around shewbread and Shavuot bread and Passover bread. At the teaching events beside the Sea of Galilee, the bread is given to the people rather than being received from the people in ritual sacrifice. It's torn into big hunks. It's handed out to everyone regardless of gender or rank or clan or purity. It's handed out with a blessing on a day that isn't even a holy day. Nobody washes their hands first. Everyone receives a full portion of humble food. Everyone eats together.

A: If the fish in this parable are a metaphor for courage and strength (see http://jesusredux.blogspot.com/2011/05/marks-themes-of-understanding-and.html ) then what does the bread represent?

J: Artos -- which is very similar to the Greek pronoun autos, which means "self" and, with certain prepositions, "at the same time; together" -- is a metaphor for the equality of all people before God. Everybody needs their daily bread regardless of status or bloodline or rank. It's about as status-free a symbol as you can get.

A: Something tells me that got lost in the Pauline translation.

JR17: Interpreting Jesus' Parables: Some Guidelines

A: Tell me about your parables. Why did you switch from short wisdom sayings to narrative parables as a method of teaching?  

J: I switched because wisdom sayings are the easiest thing to pervert if you're a leader. They're a convenient source of mind control or brainwashing, if you will. A clever leader can always find a wisdom saying or a biblical law to back up his or her desired position. Such leaders know that regular people will feel guilty and ashamed if they believe they've broken an important moral law. Regular people back down quickly when they think they've broken moral codes, moral imperatives. That's a good thing, by the way.  

A: Explain who you mean by "regular people."  

J: Balanced individuals. Emotionally mature individuals. People who respect both themselves and the needs of the wider community. Compassionate people. People who reject libertarian values. 

A: You once wrote some scathing comments about the Ten Commandments to show how even these supposedly unbreakable laws are interpreted differently by those who are in power and those who don't have any power.  

J: As many political revolutionaries over the centuries have pointed out.  

A: And more recently, liberation theologians. 

J: The problem with these short wisdom sayings is that they can be given any context that's convenient. Interpreters of wisdom sayings can claim the sayings must be interpreted literally, if that suits their purpose. More commonly, interpreters claim the sayings are symbolic -- filled with hidden esoteric meanings that only the most advanced religious initiates can fully understand. Needless to say, this leads to no end of abuse. If wisdom sayings can be moulded like putty to suit any need, then they have no meaning. There's a reason that most major world religions are centred around only a few small books of sacred teachings plus vast libraries of commentary and interpretation that run into the thousands and millions of pages. Each new generation of theologians wants to prove how clever they are at "reinterpreting" or "revealing" the hidden message of the short sayings. It's a cottage industry. 

This rock sample on display at the Natural History Museum, London, UK is a perfect visual metaphor for the parables written and taught by Jesus. As you begin to study the parables, you'll likely see them as a whole and durable stepping stone that combines traditional teachings such as moral obedience with new strands of thought such as forgiveness. Eventually, if you persist in your efforts to know God, the older themes of purity, piety, and perfection wash away and leave only the enduring networks of love, healing, and forgiveness in your heart. When Jesus' parables start to "pop" like this for you, you know you've found the pathway of your own soul. Photo credit JAT 2024.

   

A: I noticed a while back that if you try to read the whole book of Sirach at one time (the apocryphal book of Wisdom of Jesus, Son of Sirach in the Oxford NRSV Bible) your head feels as if it's going to explode.  

J: That particular scroll was quite popular in Judea and Galilee at the time I was teaching.  

A: The author of Sirach just goes on and on and on with endless lists of pithy little wisdom sayings. "Don't do this." "Don't do that." It's impossible. Impossible to live up to. They ought to call this book "An Instruction Manual on How to Feel Guilty For Daring to Breathe." 

J: Yes. My mother was fond of quoting from it. 

A: I can see how it would appeal to parents trying to govern their children with a firm moral hand. There's something for every occasion. 

J: Yes. Every time you got caught doing something wrong, you could count on getting a lecture, a beating, depending on the severity of the crime, and righteous repetitions of Sirach's easy-to-remember moral laws.  

A: They do stick in one's head, don't they? Sort of like "earworms" -- those catchy but annoying songs we so often can't get out of our heads. 

J: One of my mother's favourite moral imperatives was the importance of polite speech. The NRSV translates this favourite of hers as "Pleasant speech multiplies friends, and a gracious tongue multiplies courtesies (Sirach 6:5)." All my life I could hear her voice reciting that phrase whenever people around me started to get rude.  

A: I think we all have memories of our parents' favourite quotations. One of my father's favourite sayings is, "When all else fails, read the instructions." I think of this every time I get stuck on a task that would have been a lot easier if I'd read the directions before I started.  

J: The problem with a book like Sirach -- and it wasn't the only book in my time to drone on and on about righteousness and obedience -- is that it provides no guidance whatsoever, no practical advice at all on how to hear the inner wisdom of your own heart and soul. It's a "top-down" list of laws, not a "bottom-up" search for meaning, life, purpose, and love. A computer could be programmed to follow all these laws, and would follow them successfully where they don't contradict each other (as they often do.) But that's not life. That's not love. And it's sure not divine wisdom. It's just . . . obedience. Blind obedience. There's no need to draw on your deepest reserves of courage and faith and devotion if all you're doing is blindly following the laws. And there's no need for forgiveness. There's no room in there anywhere for insight. Insight -- what writers in the past have called divine wisdom -- is a complex blending, a complex interaction of positive emotions plus clear, logical thought plus mature, respectful behaviour. It's holistic understanding. It's something more than facts, more than knowledge. Insight is deeply intuitive while at the same time deeply objective. Insight is that hard-to-describe "aha!" moment when understanding suddenly "clicks." Insight helps you feel more grounded, more connected to reality and to life, not less connected. Insight is the opposite of dissociation.  

A: So you were trying to teach people how to find insight, not obedience.  

J: Yes. And you can't teach what insight is by reciting long lists of wisdom sayings. Insight involves the emotions of courage, trust, gratitude, and devotion, so if you're going to give people practical tools for finding their own talent for insight, you have to speak to those emotions within them. You can't just speak to the logical mind of the student. You have to speak to the whole of the student's core self. You have to give them the opportunity to practise hearing. Really hearing. Hearing with their whole being, not just with their logical minds. You have to make them sweat a bit as they struggle to hear the meaning inside their own hearts. If they're reading or listening to a parable using only the logic circuitry of their brains, they won't understand the message of the parable. The message isn't hidden. Nor is it intended to be hidden. But it is intended to make students stretch, to work their "heart" muscles as well as their "intellectual" muscles. It's intended to encourage them to look at a difficult question from more than one angle. It's intended to encourage honesty. A parable is meant to be painful, it's intended to hurt. It doesn't gloss over the painful truth. It highlights the painful truth, and asks the student to struggle with love and forgiveness despite the pain. That's what a parable is meant to do.  

A: It's interesting that a person who's dissociated from his or her core emotions will read your parables in very concrete, literal ways. They won't get the emotional subtext at all.  

J: That's because they're using their logic circuitry in unbalanced ways. They look at the "facts." For them, it's all they can see or hear. They assume that because there are facts and logic in the parables, the parables can be fully understood in purely logical terms. But they can't. People get very angry, very hostile, when you tell them they're being superficial in their reading of the parables. If they can't feel loving emotions themselves, they want to deny that such emotions exist. They don't want to admit to themselves or to anybody else that they're mentally, emotionally, and spiritually imbalanced. 

A: They don't want to admit that they can't love -- that they don't understand what love is. 

J: Yes. And they'll do everything in their power to avoid facing the issue.  

A: Is their inability to love related in any way to their souls? Do they have defective souls that somehow missed out on the whole "love" thing when God was creating their souls?  

J: No. Definitely not. Each and every soul in all of Creation knows how to love and forgive. Human beings can blame their upbringing and their own choices -- combined in many cases with biological dysfunction in the central nervous system -- for their inability to love as adults. People who've chosen to be dissociated from their loving emotions shouldn't be proud of this choice.  

A: Usually they have some pretty powerful excuses for their refusal to accept and heal their core emotions.  

J: Nobody said it would be easy. That's a point I tried to make again and again -- the healing journey isn't easy, but it's worth it.  

A: This morning I was rummaging through the Gospel of Thomas, and felt drawn to two parables on pages 68 and 69 of Stevan Davies's book. When I read these two parables -- sayings 63 and 64a in the Gospel of Thomas -- I hear you talking about the excuses people make to avoid dealing with the pain of their emotions. I hear you talking about the fact that it's easier for a "successful" person -- a person obedient to logic and the law -- than for an impoverished person out on the street to make excuses about sitting down at the table with God in a full relationship of love and trust. I hear you talking about the choices people make. The one thing I do not hear is the explanation that Stevan Davies offers for Saying 64a: "The point of the parable," says Davies, "may be to hold up the host as an example of one who has failed to think things through (page 71)." To my way of thinking, Davies's interpretation is logical, but way too literal, way too concrete. He doesn't get this parable at all.

"Jesus said: Once there was a rich man who had lots of money, and he said, 'I will invest my money so that I can sow, reap, plant, and fill up my silos with crops so that I won`t lack anything.' So he thought, but that night he died. He who has ears, let him hear (Gospel of Thomas 63)." "Jesus said: A man entertained guests. When dinner was ready he sent a servant to invite his guests. The servant went to the first one and said, 'My master invites you,' but he replied, 'I have to collect money from some merchants, and they are due to arrive this evening. Therefore I have to do business with them, and I must be excused from the dinner.' The servant went to another said, 'My master invites you,' but he said, 'I have just bought a house, and I have to spend a day there, so I cannot come. I must be excused.' He went to the next and said, 'My master invites you.' This one replied, 'My friend is about to be married, and I must organize the dinner. I can`t come. I must be excused.' Again he went and said to another, 'My master invites you.' He replied, 'I have just bought a village, and I have to go collect the rent. I can`t come and must be excused.' The servant reported back to his master, 'those whom you invited to the dinner are unable to come.' The master said, 'Go to the roads outside and invite anybody you can find to the dinner' (Gospel of Thomas 64a, translated by Stevan Davies)."

J: John the Baptist hated my parables. He didn't understand them, and got very frustrated when some of my students understood something that he -- the chosen Messiah -- couldn't grasp.  

A: There are no teaching parables in the Gospel of John.  

J: He stopped accepting the legitimacy of my parables when he realized I was using them to teach a message that was for all intents and purposes the opposite of his own message. He was also envious and angry because he didn't understand the emotional meaning interwoven with the logical one.  

A: It's clear enough that in Saying 64a you're turning the imagery of the Essene Messianic Banquet on its head. 

J: That part John understood. He and I were constantly sparring on that issue. 

A: No Messianic Banquet for you? No bread and wine? No body and blood? No occult ritual for specially chosen initiates?  

J (grinning broadly): Hey. God invites everybody -- all people -- to the table of divine love, divine trust, divine forgiveness, and so on. If you're too busy to come . . . well, that's your problem. Healing and empathy take time. Relationship with God takes time. You want to know what God's love feels like? You gotta take the time.  

A: Obedience and righteousness can't replace the benefits of good old fashioned time spent with loved ones, time spent with God?  

J: Nope.  

A: Following all the wisdom sayings in Sirach can't replace the benefits of time spent in love with God?  

J: Nope.  

A: Logic alone can't lead you to God?  

J: Nope. 

 A: So fear of God probably isn't going to help much either, then?  

J: The one thing you'll never see in my parables is a man who fears God. You'll see a lot of pain, a lot of grief, but you won't see fear. In the Kingdom of the Heavens, the methods for dealing with the pain and the grief are forgiveness, honesty, compassion, healing, and equality. This is the feeling of redemption. Redemption is what you feel when you achieve the remarkable insight that forgiveness, not fear, not righteousness, is the only path to being in full relationship with God. Nobody can "give" you this insight from the outside. You have to find it within your own heart, mind, body, and soul. Other people can help you find it, can help you work towards it. However, nobody but you can give you the actual insight. It has to be up to you to accept God's invitation to come to the table.  

A: Where I assume blood and body aren't on the menu.  

J: The table of God's love is filled with so many wonders, so many joys! Everything that God touches -- not just the Eucharistic bread and wine -- is filled with divine love. There's no end to the mystery of redemption, the mystery of love and forgiveness.  

A: That sounds suspiciously like a mushy Hallmark card.  

J: Angels are incredibly mushy.