Jesus under the Microscope (Part 3)
Was Judas Chrestus—Jesus Christ?
In addition to the afore-mentioned Judas of Galilee, another prominent first century insurrectionist, whose life story very closely paralleled that of Christ, was Judas Chrestus. In fact, the parallels are so striking—far more so than was the case with Judas of Galilee—that it is very difficult to avoid the conclusion that perhaps Christ and Chrestus were one and the same person. But whether or not that was the case, it is quite apparent that they both followed precisely parallel paths, and that maybe one of them had decided, admiringly, to walk in the same footsteps as the other. Judas Chrestus launched a huge uprising in the mid-first century, right in the city of Rome, which included rioting and other outrages so vile that Claudius ran the Jews out of the city (except the wealthy ones, who bought their citizenship). Referring to this very expulsion, Suetonius, a contemporary Roman historian, wrote: “Since the Jews constantly made disturbances at the instigation of Chrestus, he [Claudius] expelled them from Rome.”
There even appears to be a reference to this same expulsion in Acts 18:1, 2: “After this, Paul left Athens and went to Corinth. There he met a Jew named Aquila, a native of Pontus, who had recently come from Italy with his wife Priscilla, because Claudius had ordered all Jews to leave Rome. Paul went to see them.”
This event is believed to have occurred around 50 AD. Christians would argue that Chrestus could not possibly have been Christ, because Christ had already been crucified by this time. But that argument only holds for those who accept the nonsensical chronology of the New Testament which, as we have already seen, has no credibility.
The followers of Chrestus were known, naturally, as Chrestians and, like Christ’s disciples, they had come from Galilee. Could it be possible, then, that the myth of Christ, and thus the religion of Christianity, grew out of the story of this man and his clique of fanatical followers? The fact that these two names—Christ and Chrestus—have very close phonetic similarities and come from the same terrorist haven is disturbing enough, but the congruencies between them actually run far, far deeper than this. Writing about the great fire of Rome in 64 AD, the famous Roman historian Tacitus, in his Annals, stated: “All human efforts...and propitiations of the gods did not banish the sinister belief that the fire was the result of an order [from Nero]. Consequently, to get rid of the report, Nero fastened the guilt and inflicted the most exquisite tortures on a class hated for their abominations, called Chrestians by the populous Chrestus, from whom the name had its origin, suffered the extreme penalty during the reign of Tiberius at the hands of one of our procurators, Pontius Pilate [who was actually a prefect].”
Though Tacitus was here implying that this fire was seemingly started by Nero himself, what we want to focus on here is the fact that the Chrestians were a known and hated rebel group that were highly active in Rome. Another important point to come away with here is that Chrestus is said to have suffered the extreme penalty (crucifixion) at the hand of Pontius Pilate. Does this ring a bell? In the same Tacitus work cited above, this first century historian also said this about the Chrestus cult: “Checked for the moment, this pernicious superstition [religious rebel movement] again broke out, not only in Judea, the source of the evil, but even in Rome.”
So, according to Tacitus, the Chrestians were a “pernicious superstition” that were hated for their “abominations.” Now take note of a similar statement written by Suetonius about Christians: “Punishment was inflicted on the Christians, a set of men adhering to a novel and mischievous superstition.”
Both of these historians used the same word—superstition—to describe the belief system of both Chrestians and Christians. And they both used almost the same adjective to relate the nature of the movements they were talking about—pernicious and mischievous, respectively. Could it be that they were both referring to the same exact movement? If Chrestus was really Christ, and if Chrestians were really Christians, then we are dealing with a much bigger mess than we could ever have imagined. For digging a bit deeper into the Chrestian movement reveals that the individuals who belonged to it were resolute criminal psychopaths. In the latter part of the fourth century, Emperor Theodosius I wrote: “The mob that gave Chrestians their name hated them for their crimes, their leader had been put to death under Pontius Pilate, but the deadly superstition spread throughout Judea and even Rome. Some confessed their faith and were arrested; on their testimony, a multitude were convicted of arson, but also of hatred of the human race.”
Arson? Hatred of the human race? Make sure you take into consideration that, even if you do not believe these Chrestians were the same as Christians, they were still a religious movement that was committing these heinous crimes—a messianic religious movement. Consider also that this type of criminal behavior was the rule, not the exception, with first century messianic groups. So why would you think that Christianity at that time was above carrying out atrocities? Is it not because you have been conditioned to believe that Christianity is, and always has been, only a force for good in the world? Consider again the Crusades and the Inquisition. It was Christians behind these abominations. It may be a tough pill to swallow, but the truth is that Christianity, as a whole, has never been a force for good in this world. While there certainly have been many individual Christians who were / are decent and respectable, institutional Christianity has always been nothing but a power- and money-hungry enterprise. The second century Christian apologist Minucius Felix, in Octavius 9, wrote this about the Chrestians (obviously being desirous of making it look like Chrestians were distinct from Christians): “[A] condemned criminal is the object of their veneration. Finally, there is [the practice of] infant murder [that they engage in], cannibalism, and the banquet of incestuous intercourse.”
These claims of scandalous immorality should not catch us by surprise. Recall how Tacitus said that the Chrestians were guilty of “abominations.” Tacitus had also stated that these religious hoodlums were “warriors in constant tribal conflict,” and that they were “detested because of their scandalous practices.” He ended off by saying that he “desired them to be eliminated.” Furthermore, Justin Martyr, writing shortly after the time of Tacitus, stated: “They [the Chrestians] met in secret to eat human flesh, and once the lamps had been upset [blown out], to participate in promiscuous, incestuous intercourse.” In the late second century, Roman Emperor Marcus Aurelius additionally stated that Chrestians were a strange and distinct class of people that were given over to a “new and wicked superstition.” A later 4th century Roman historian, Macellinus Ammianus, further said of them: “[T]he atrocity of the Chrestians against opponents surpasses the fury of wild beasts against men.”
Finally, in the late 4th century, Epiphanius said that the Chrestians were the founders of “a new and pernicious sect that was capable of the most horrid crimes.” Has religion not always served as the perfect cover for its leaders to get away with the most detestable abominations? History has attested to this ugly reality again and again. The trouble is, religious people can only admit this to be true of other religions, but never their own. Christians, especially, fall into this category. But do you remember our lengthy discussion of all the crimes committed by ancient Israel in Yahweh’s name—yea, at the command of Yahweh? Is it not at least a feasible possibility, then, that this same policy continued into the Christian era, all under the name of the same deity, Yahweh? We know this policy was certainly in place within Christianity centuries after the time of Christ, under Roman Catholicism, so why would this not have been the case from the beginning, especially when we consider Christianity’s insurrectionist backdrop? Our next course of action will be to delve into some revealing official admissions made by the Catholic Church regarding the profound similarities between Christ and Chrestus, implying that many prominent Catholic theologians have believed these two individuals to have been the very same person:
- A 17th century Catholic bishop, Lewis Du Pin, declared that the personage of Chrestus “appeared to be our Jesus Christ acting, strangely, in Rome.” - De Antiqua Ecclesiae Disciplina, Folio, Paris, 1686.
- The Catholic Encyclopedia, Pecci Edition, Volume III, p. 309, states: “It seems probable that Chrestus was the figure of Jesus Christ personified in later times.”
- The 1908 Catholic Encyclopedia tells us that Chrestus “may have been Jesus Christ, overlooking the fact, as Christian historians tend to do, that Chrestus ‘suffered death in Rome,’ not at Golgotha alongside the main road into Jerusalem, as the Gospels contend. [Chrestus] was, in all probability, the person we now call Jesus Christ by later, and direct transference.”
- A 16th century Catholic historian, Cardinal Caesar Baronius, wrote: “There seems to be some half-hidden facts in the story of Judas Chrestus that should be left alone in case of disturbing results or previously unthinkable ideas.” - Annales Ecclesiastici, tome viii, Fol. Antwerp, 1597. Here we see that this cardinal was calling for the suppression of the connection between Chrestus and Christ. Can you guess why?
As the centuries marched on after the time of Chrestus / Christ, the power-questing of Chrestians / Christians had never ceased—at least not at the highest levels. In the third century, for example, Porphyry, a Roman philosopher, penned this damning indictment against Christianity: “The teaching of the Christians is self-contradictory: they look for the end of the world, but what they really want is control of the empire….‘I came not to bring peace but a sword. I came to separate a son from his father,’ belie the true intentions of the Christians. They seek riches and glory. Far from being friends of the empire, they are renegades waiting for their chance to seize control.”
It looks like nothing had changed from the first century to the third. And it hardly needs mentioning that Christians did ultimately succeed in seizing power—absolute power—in Rome, via the Roman Catholic Church. A strong hint at additional evidence of early Christian involvement in insurrections against Rome comes to us through an exchange of letters between Emperor Trajan and Pliny the Younger at the close of the first decade of the second century. The first of these letters was written by Pliny to Trajan, inquiring on how to handle rebellious Christians. A very intriguing line therein states: “…in accordance with your instructions, I had forbidden [the Christians to have] political associations.”
Now why do you suppose Trajan would have made such a recommendation to Pliny? Anyway, Trajan later wrote back, saying: “…if they [Christians] are denounced and proved guilty, they are to be punished….”
Though the specific crime these Christians were suspected of is not mentioned, the context seems to demand some type of political subterfuge—perhaps (or better yet, most likely) involving insurrectionist activities.
If Christ was not Judas of Galilee and / or Judas Chrestus, he at least copied and pasted their storylines into his own life story (or else the later gospel editors did so). Another good example of this copying and pasting phenomenon into Christ’s biography came to light in the year 2000, when a significant tablet was discovered in Jordan, near the eastern shore of the Dead Sea. The Hebrew text found on it consisted of 87 lines, written in ink, which dates to the late first century BC. This text purports to be a revelation of the angel Gabriel about the final apocalyptic battle between the forces of good and evil. The last section of this text is focused on the death and resurrection of a messianic leader, most likely Simon of Peraea. As alluded to earlier, Josephus tells us that this man’s followers crowned him as “King of the Jews.” He ravaged the countryside for a time, burning down, amongst other things, the royal palace at Jericho. Gratus, Herod’s military commander, pursued Simon and caught up with him in Transjordan, where he beheaded him. At any rate, the text found in 2000 depicts the angel Gabriel as thusly addressing this dead messianic figure: “I command you, prince of princes, in three days you shall live!”
Prince of princes? In three days you shall live? There should now be no lingering doubt that the storyline of Christ was copied from several rabble-rousing messianic claimants.
It is now time to take up a discussion of Christ’s crucifixion (and some of the events leading up to it) in the light of him having been an insurrectionist. Why, exactly, was Christ crucified? If the Jews were upset with him for allegedly committing blasphemy, they could have easily executed him themselves, by having him stoned—as Jewish law required (Mishnah Sanhedrin 6:4) . Roman law allowed for this. But instead, he was crucified—a punishment that Rome only carried out for those guilty of serious crimes against the state, such as insurrectionism. To put it more plainly: The fact that Christ was crucified is, by itself, proof that he was an insurrectionist. After all, did he not profess, at least privately, that he was a king? Though he surely preferred that his claim to this title remain a secret, the word got out anyway, and that is what got him killed. But we are getting ahead of ourselves here. Let us skip back to the last week or so before the crucifixion.To start off, we need to more closely scrutinize a passage we explored earlier, which deals with a parable Christ related about himself. He began by saying (Luke 19:12): “A man of noble birth went into a distant country to have himself appointed king and then to return…”
Christ was clearly revealing his intention here of establishing himself as king. And this is the parable, lest you have forgotten, where Christ later had this “man of noble birth” (meaning himself) say, “But those enemies of mine who did not want me to be king over them—bring them here and kill them in front of me” (verse 27). The reason this is being brought up again at this juncture is because of the impeccable timeframe that Christ chose for sharing this parable—right at the end of his ministry, just prior to his triumphal trek into Jerusalem on “Palm Sunday,” riding on a donkey. Jesus knew that there were a lot of Jews flocking to Jerusalem at that time, for Passover, and he was hoping that this provocative parable of his would be the spark that would set off an uprising. By no means is this speculation. In fact, this very point is made in verse 11—the verse that introduces this same parable: “While they were listening to this, he went on to tell them a parable, because he was near Jerusalem and the people thought that the kingdom of God was going to appear at once.”
Did you catch that last part? Not only did Jesus tell this parable at this time because a lot of people were in Jerusalem, but because they were anticipating the imminent appearance of the “kingdom of God” (the arrival of the messiah who would establish a Davidic kingdom that would free them from the Romans). And it was in this very context that he admitted, once again, not only that it was his intention to be king, but that he wanted those who rejected him as king to be killed in front of him. Can it get any clearer than this what Jesus was up to here? As much as the New Testament has been tampered with and “sanitized” to hide Christ’s subversive agenda, enough details have remained to enable us to still put this puzzle together.
Now take careful notice of the manner in which Christ marched into Jerusalem shortly after telling this parable—on a donkey’s colt, which, to the Jews, meant the arrival of their king to claim his throne. He did this to make it appear that he was the fulfillment of Zechariah’s messianic prophecy, which states:
- “Rejoice greatly, daughter of Zion! Cry out, daughter of Jerusalem! Behold, your king is coming to you; righteous and victorious is he, humble and riding upon an ass, upon a colt, the son of a donkey.” - Zechariah 9:9
- As Christ rode thusly into Jerusalem, the people warmly greeted him with strewn palms and cries of “Hosanna!”—the ancient affirmation of Jewish independence. The crowds also cried out to Jesus: “Blessed is the coming kingdom of our father David!” - Mark 11:10
So the people expected that this “king” was soon to set up a kingdom on earth in the line of David, which is exactly what was intended by Christ. Not only was this donkey-riding action designed to rally the people behind him, but Jesus was thereby also affronting the Romans, flaunting in their faces his pretentious royal status. This was classic textbook sedition. Christ figured that his hour had arrived, and he hoped that the people would be inspired to rise up, en masse, against the foreign occupiers. Riding into Jerusalem on a donkey was not the only brazen thing that Christ did at this time. Do not forget that he also drove out the moneychangers from the temple—an act designed to undermine priestly authority and prep the people for an uprising against them as well. So we can see that Christ was snubbing and provoking both the political and religious authorities—an insurrectionist if ever there was one. He was pulling out all the stops, so to speak, and setting the stage for what he hoped would be a sure-win brawl. Let us not forget what he said shortly before this time ( Luke 12:49): “I have come to bring fire on the earth, and how I wish it were already kindled!”
Immediately after Christ’s temple cleansing exercise, the book of John recorded something very revealing (John 2:17): “His disciples remembered that it is written [in Psalm 69:9]: ‘Zeal for your house will consume me.’”
Zeal? In recalling this passage, were the disciples making reference to the fact that their master was a Zealot? He had certainly just acted like one. (Though the book of John records the temple cleansing as having taken place early in Christ’s ministry, we have already demonstrated the fallacy of that chronology.) There is good reason to believe that a warrant went out for Christ’s arrest after the temple cleansing incident, which would surely have been called for by the temple leaders. Speaking of this possibility, in the early twentieth century, an old Slavonic text was discovered that recorded a description Josephus gave of a wanted man that the Jewish leaders were hunting down in the first half of the first century. It reads as follows: “[Wanted]…a man of simple appearance, mature age, dark skin, small stature, three cubits high [very short, under five feet], hunchbacked with a long face, long nose, and meeting eyebrows, so that they who see him might be affrightened, with scanty hair with a parting in the middle of his head, after the manner of the Nazarites, and with an undeveloped beard.”
Was this talking about Jesus? Was Christ truly fearfullooking and short? We certainly do have confirmation of his lack of height. In the apocryphal book “The Acts of John,” John was quoted as saying this about Christ: “I was afraid and cried out, and he [Christ], turning about, appeared as a man of small stature, and caught hold on my beard and pulled it and said to me: ‘John, be not faithless but believing, and not curious.’”
As far as the wanted individual in the above-cited arrest warrant being referred to as a Nazarite, let the reader understand that when the gospels allude to Christ as a Nazarene, a more correct translation would be “Nazarite,” as there was actually no town called Nazareth in existence in first century Israel. If the gospels were indeed intending to call Christ a Nazarite, this would only make sense, considering what he told his disciples on the eve of his crucifixion, during the “Last Supper” (Matthew 26:29): “I tell you, I will not drink from this fruit of the vine from now on until that day when I drink it new with you in my Father’s kingdom [refraining from grape products was part of the Nazarite vow].”
As to whether or not Christ was really fearful-looking, hunchbacked, and in possession of a long face, long nose, and meeting eyebrows like the man in the arrest warrant, no one can say because no description of Christ’s appearance is provided anywhere in the gospels or elsewhere. But we can imagine him to have looked pretty frightful since he caused all the priests to flee the temple when he cracked the whip therein. Interestingly, most Christians would probably not object to the idea of Christ having been unattractive in appearance, since they apply this alleged Old Testament prophecy to him (Isaiah 53:2): “…he had no form or comeliness that we should look upon him, and no beauty that we should desire him.”
To further illustrate that Christ was planning an uprising, we need to have a look at something of great interest that took place during the Last Supper, just before Christ’s capture and trial, as recorded in Luke 22:36-38: “He [Jesus] said to them [the disciples], ‘But now if you have a purse, take it, and also a bag; and if you don’t have a sword, sell your cloak and buy one. It is written: And he was numbered with the transgressors; and I tell you that this must be fulfilled in me. Yes, what is written about me is reaching its fulfillment.’ The disciples said, ‘See, Lord, here are two swords.’ ‘That’s enough!’ he replied.”
Why would Christ have been telling his disciples to buy swords, except that he had intentions of setting off an insurrection? The reason he gave them for doing this was that “It is written: ‘And he was numbered with the transgressors’; and I tell you that this must be fulfilled in me. Yes, what is written about me is reaching its fulfillment.” Here Christ was quoting a supposed messianic prophecy from Isaiah 53:12: “Therefore I will give him a portion among the great, and he will divide the spoils with the strong, because he poured out his life unto death, and was numbered with the transgressors…”
So now we must ask: In what way was this prophecy supposed to have been fulfilled when Christ told his disciples to go out and buy swords? How was Jesus interpreting this alleged prophecy in that type of a context? Well, think about it: “I will give him a portion among the great, and he will divide the spoils with the strong…” Christ, at this point, was going for broke. He figured that he would either spark a successful revolutionary uprising or be killed trying to do so (pouring out his life unto death). Jesus reasoned that even if he failed, it would still be worth it because he would be rewarded in the afterlife for his efforts (if in fact he had any religious beliefs at all), or at least have his name permanently etched in stone, so to speak. Win or lose, he thought, he would either way ultimately be given his “portion among the great” and would “divide the spoils with the strong.” So, by Christ’s own testimony, the reason he told his disciples to go buy swords was so that he could (hopefully) kick off a revolution. Some would argue, and rightly so, that two swords were hardly adequate for posing a threat to the Romans. But that was not to be the point of this exercise. Christ was merely hoping that any type of confrontation would serve as a spark that would ignite a raging fire. This is precisely why, toward the end, he was pressing the idea upon his disciples that they needed to be willing to lose their life for his cause. He was ready and willing to let them all die that night, in order to get the ball rolling. Remember what he told his disciples after they came back to him with only two swords: “That is enough!” Enough for what? Enough to set off a massive uprising, or so he hoped. Bible defenders would contend that Christ was not advocating violence when he told his disciples to buy some swords, since he later rebuked Peter for cutting off one of the ears of the high priest’s slave with his sword, when the slave first tried to apprehend Christ. Here is how Jesus rebuked Peter for this action (Matthew 26:52): “… all who draw the sword will die by the sword.”
Are we really to interpret this the way that Christians do? Or was this comment simply another example of the many conflicting messages that Christ sent? Recall how Jesus also said, in Matthew 10:34, “I have not come to bring peace, but a sword.” And we are also told in Revelation 19 about Christ being “dressed in a robe dipped in blood” and that out of his mouth “comes a sharp sword with which to strike down the nations.” Yes, Jesus was against using swords alright. But the question remains: Why did Jesus rebuke Peter for using his sword—one of the very swords that he himself told his disciples to go and buy? Christ must have realized by this point that the uprising was not going to happen, seeing that far more footmen showed up to arrest him than he had anticipated (as we will see in a moment). Thus, under these less-than-promising circumstances, Christ felt that he had no choice but to denounce Peter’s use of his sword, pretending for the sake of his arresting mob that violence was never his intention. Notice, though, how overboard he went with this comment, going so far as to say that all who draw a sword will die thereby. All? So a sword can never even be used to defend oneself? But aside from all that, just think of how many times his daddy (Yahweh) advocated the use of swords in the Old Testament. Here are a couple instances to remind you:
- “Then Joshua turned back at that time, and captured Hazor and struck its king with the sword; for Hazor formerly was the head of all these kingdoms. They struck every person who was in it with the edge of the sword, utterly destroying them; there was no one left who breathed. And he burned Hazor with fire. Joshua captured all the cities of these kings, and all their kings, and he struck them with the edge of the sword, and utterly destroyed them; just as Moses the servant of the Lord had commanded.” - Joshua 11:10-12
- “[Moses] stood at the entrance to the camp and shouted, ‘All of you who are on the Lord’s side, come over here and join me.’ And all the Levites came. He told them, ‘This is what the Lord, the God of Israel, says: Strap on your swords! Go back and forth from one end of the camp to the other, killing even your brothers, friends, and neighbors.’ The Levites obeyed Moses, and about three thousand people died that day. Then Moses told the Levites, ‘Today you have been ordained for the service of the Lord, for you obeyed him even though it meant killing your own sons and brothers. Because of this, he will now give you a great blessing.’” - Exodus 32:26-29
For those wishing to argue that Christ was speaking sincerely in Gethsemane when he voiced his opposition to using swords, they must concede to the fact that he not only contradicted his own self in saying this, but nearly every single page of the Old Testament. It is incontestably obvious that Christ originally wanted the disciples to use their swords (which, again, he told them to get) for the purpose of attacking those who came to arrest him. Seeing how the disciples reacted at this very time clinches the case. Consider what Luke 22:48-50 has to say: “Jesus asked him, ‘Judas, are you betraying the Son of Man with a kiss?’ When Jesus’ followers saw what was going to happen [that Christ was about to be arrested], they said, ‘Lord, should we strike with our swords?’ And one of them struck the servant of the high priest, cutting off his right ear.”
The disciples knew what their swords were intended for, and were basically asking Christ, “Lord, is it now time to attack with our swords as you intended?”
Peter, of course, did not wait for an answer and struck out against one of the arresting party members, out of reflex. As you can see, Peter, along with the rest of the disciples, even though they were significantly outnumbered, were fearless because they were expecting “divine intervention” to come to their aid. But how outnumbered were they? That is a very important question, which is why we need to take a closer look at the group that came to arrest Christ. Here is what Matthew 26:47, 50 tells us about it: “And while he was still speaking, behold, Judas, one of the twelve, came up, accompanied by a great multitude with swords and clubs, from the chief priests and elders of the people….Then they came and laid hands on Jesus and seized Him”
So, it was a “great multitude” that showed up to arrest Christ. But this seems rather vague. How many were there, exactly, and what was this “great multitude” comprised of? Being “from the priests” does not have to imply that they were religious supporters. It need only mean that the priests solicited the services of this group. But, again, what group was it, and how many were there? John’s version of this incident clears up the enigma for us (John 18:1): “…the Roman cohort and the commander, and the officers of the Jews, arrested Jesus and bound him.”
So, it was a Roman cohort that arrested Jesus (along with the “officers of the Jews”). A Roman legion was, on average, about 6,000 soldiers strong, and a cohort was one-tenth of that. Therefore we are looking here at an army of roughly 600 men. Now why would the Romans have sent that many personnel, armed with clubs and swords, just to apprehend an alleged pacifist religious leader? They just had to be anticipating an insurrection from this Zealot—an insurrection that never got off the ground because too many Roman reinforcements showed up. Christ was apparently expecting a much smaller turnout. But be sure to catch what Jesus said to this unexpectedly large entourage (Luke 22:52): “Am I leading a rebellion, that you have come with swords and clubs?”
Jesus was here playing innocent. He was acting like the Romans were overestimating the situation by coming in such a large number, and being so heavily armed. However, there was no overestimation on their part at all—they knew exactly what they were doing, having had a great deal of experience with such dangerous, manipulative, religion-touting warriors. At Christ’s trial, the chief priests told Pilate, as we previously saw (Luke 23:5): “He stirs up the people all over Judea by his teaching. He started in Galilee and has come all the way here.”
They were here condemning Christ as an insurrectionist. And then, when the chief priests shouted out, in John 19:15, “We have no king but Caesar,” were they not driving the point home that they did not want to be associated with this would-be king and his failed power grab? The objection is often raised that Christ could not have been arrested for insurrectionism as evidenced by Pilate washing his hands at Christ’s trial, as though Christ was viewed by him as being innocent of such a charge. But we already shot that one down before, showing how the hand-washing scene could never have taken place. As a brief refresher, let us be reminded that Pilate was extremely intolerant of anyone that was even so much as suspected of being an insurrectionist, and constantly hunted down and executed such individuals, without mercy or hesitation. Realizing this makes the next passage from the book of John a preposterous joke (John 19:12): “From then on, Pilate tried to set Jesus free, but the Jewish leaders kept shouting, ‘If you let this man go, you are no friend of Caesar. Anyone who claims to be a king opposes Caesar.’”
Like Pilate needed to be told that, and like he would have ever defended a person claiming to be king. Look carefully at what the Jewish leaders said about Christ at this same time (Luke 23:2): “We have found this man subverting our nation…[claiming] to be Messiah, a king.”
Immediately thereafter, in verse 3, Pilate asked Christ, “Are you the king of the Jews?” Jesus then replied, evasively, “You have said so.” And that was all Pilate needed to hear. Christ did not deny the charge. Pilate certainly knew what he was dealing with, and he would never have defended such a person. Jesus, of course, was far too crafty to ever come right out and confess to Pilate that he was claiming to be king. Instead of answering Pilate’s straightforward question, all Jesus did was affirm that Pilate said he was a king. If he truly was “the Son of God,” who knew he was soon to be crucified no matter what he did or did not say, why was he afraid to boldly proclaim that he was indeed a king—the king? Was it not Christ who said, “Let your yeas be yeas, and your nays be nays”? What we are looking at here is someone who did not want to implicate himself, hoping that somehow he might still get off the hook, perhaps through divine intervention or through his followers springing him from Pilate’s grip. While some have suggested that Christ refrained from answering Pilate out of concern that his disciples might be arrested as co-conspirators, this does not stand. For one thing, the disciples were already held in suspicion through their association with Christ. So his admission of having royal blood would have changed nothing in that regard. For another thing, Christ should not have had to worry about the immediate fate of his disciples, since (going by the biblical account) he would have had the assurance that his “heavenly father” would divinely protect them from both the Jewish and Roman authorities, seeing that they were needed to carry on the work of “spreading the gospel.” Another ridiculous aspect of the gospel record of Christ’s trial, which we also looked at earlier, is the story of Pilate’s wife being given a dream by Yahweh, informing her to not allow her husband to condemn Jesus. How could this be, when it was presumably Yahweh’s will that Christ die on the cross? But for those who wish to propose that Yahweh did not want Christ to die, the fact that Christ did die (according to the gospel accounts) forces us to ask what purpose this alleged dream could possibly have been intended to serve, seeing that Yahweh is supposed to know the future. If there is any historical validity to the gospel story of the crucifixion, then this next citation from the book of John would appear to be a very accurately recorded exchange between Pilate and the Jewish leadership (John 19:19, 21, 22): “Pilate had a notice prepared and fastened to the cross. It read: ‘Jesus of Nazareth, the king of the Jews.’…The chief priests of the Jews protested to Pilate, ‘Do not write The King of the Jews, but [have it say instead] that this man claimed to be king of the Jews.’ Pilate answered, ‘What I have written, I have written.’”
This is just what we would expect to hear from both the Jewish leaders and Pilate. The Judaic hierarchy would indeed have wanted to disassociate themselves from an insurrectionist claiming to be their king—especially a failed insurrectionist. And Pilate would definitely have refused to retract his labeling of Christ as “King of the Jews,” because he knew Christ was a subversive. This is more indisputable proof that Pilate did not wash his hands, as though he thought Christ was innocent—end of story. This sign that Pilate put on Christ’s cross, by the way, is the ultimate proof that Jesus was nothing but a would-be usurper. It was customary for the Romans to tack such a sign on the cross of a crucifixion victim, which was known as a titulus, to inform onlookers of the crime that the condemned individual was being put to death for. And, as we just saw, Christ’s titulus read: “Jesus, King of the Jews.” What this signified is that Christ was being executed, once again, for sedition—for his claim to be king over the Jews, and thus undermining Rome’s authority. Consideration will now be given to another revealing excerpt from the story of Christ’s trial, as found in Mark 15:7: “A man called Barabbas was in prison with the insurrectionists who had committed murder in the uprising.”
So Christ’s trial took place at the time of an uprising. Whose uprising? Did some of Christ’s followers rise up, perhaps at Christ’s behest, but too little, too late? Curiously, Barabbas means “son of the father.” Some ancient gospel manuscripts refer to this individual as “Jesus Barabbas” (or “Jesus, son of the father”), as found in the New Revised Standard Version. Were Jesus and Barabbas the same person, but this fact got lost in later centuries with all the textual alterations that went on? It is something to consider. But in any case, just look at how common such uprisings were at that time, and how numerous their instigators were. Speaking of Barabbas, it is infinitely ludicrous that this man, as the gospels relate, would have been released from prison, when John 18:40 tells us that he “had taken part in an uprising.” Such an individual would never have been let go. On top of being sold the lie that Barabbas, a known insurrectionist, was released, we are then supposed to believe that Christ, an alleged innocent man, was arranged to be crucified in place of Barabbas. Positively no way would a scenario like this have ever played out in the real world at that time. As ruthless as the Romans could be, they only meted out crucifixion for serious political crimes, and thus would never have crucified an innocent man. And, again, they absolutely never would have let an insurrectionist slip through the cracks.
This whole arrangement is outlandish in the extreme, and could not possibly represent real history. Having firmly established that Barabbas was an insurrectionist who took part in an uprising, it is important to understand that the Greek word “lestes” is applied to him in John 18:40, which is often translated as “robber.” But “robber” would only be a proper translation here if it is understood in the context of a robber of the peace. That is to say, the Greek word “lestes” here refers to the criminal nature of Barabbas as an insurrectionist peace robber. With this in mind, let our attention now be drawn to the fact that the word “thieves” in Mark 15:27, as applied to the two criminals crucified alongside Christ, comes from this same Greek word (in this case in the plural, “lestas”). The implication here is that these two “thieves” were also insurrectionists, or robbers of the peace. This would mean that the triune crucifixion of Christ and the two “thieves” was really a group execution of three convicted insurrectionists. In his War of the Jews, Josephus recorded these words that seem to be making reference to Christ: “...about this time, someone came out of Egypt to Jerusalem, claiming to be a prophet. He advised the crowd to go along with him to the Mount of Olives, as it was called, which lay over against the city….He added that he would show them from hence how the walls of Jerusalem would fall down at his command, and he promised them that he would procure them an entrance into the city through those collapsed walls. Now when Felix was informed of these things, he ordered his soldiers to take their weapons, and came against them with a great number of horsemen and footmen from Jerusalem…”
Look at the similarities here with Christ: This individual claimed to be a prophet, advised a crowd to go along with him to the Mount of Olives, he talked of how the walls of Jerusalem would fall down, and he was besieged by a great number of armed soldiers. As far as Josephus saying that this individual came out of Egypt, the gospels reveal that Christ did go to Egypt as a child, and he may very well have returned there on occasion, during his “missing years,” since the Essenes actually had a branch community in that country, known as the Therapeutae.
Josephus then went on to say that this “Egyptian” escaped, and was not heard from again. If Josephus was indeed talking about Christ here, then this mention of him escaping would mean that Christ was never crucified—that he had devised a successful escape plan. But do we have any evidence that this actually happened? Yes indeed. There is, for example, an apocryphal version of Christ’s crucifixion in which he avoided justice, and a substitute (Simon of Cyrene—the one said to have carried his cross) was crucified in his place. If this rendering can be trusted (and why not?—it is certainly no less reliable than the canonical gospels), then this would mean that Christ may have gone on to stir up various tumults (remember the story of Judas Chrestus?), which ultimately culminated in the Roman sacking of Jerusalem in 70 AD. Here is how this apocryphal account reads, from the “Apocalypse of Peter”: “But he [Simon] into whose hands and feet they are driving the nails is his fleshy part, which is the substitute.”
And then there is a curious related passage from the apocryphal “Acts of John,” which carries the following alleged statement made by Christ to his disciples: “You hear that I suffered, yet I suffered not; that I suffered not, yet I did suffer; that I was pierced, yet was I not wounded; hanged, and I was not hanged; that blood flowed from me, yet it did not flow; and in a word, those things that they say of me I did not endure, and the things that they do not say, those I suffered.”
Yet another account like this is found in one of the Nag Hammadi texts known as the “Treatise of the Great Seth,” which quotes Jesus as having stated: “I did not die in reality but in appearance, lest I be put to shame by them….For my death which they think happened, happened to them in their error and blindness, since they nailed their man [Simon] unto the death….It was another, their father, who drank the gall and the vinegar; it was not I…it was another, Simon, who bore the cross on his shoulder. It was another upon whom they placed the crown of thorns….And I was laughing at their ignorance.”
Even the Quran teaches that Christ was not killed on the cross. In Sura 4:157 we read: “That they said [in boast], ‘We killed Christ Jesus the son of Mary, the apostle of Allah’but—they killed him not, nor crucified him, but so it was made to appear to them, and those who differ therein are full of doubts, with no [certain] knowledge, but only conjecture to follow, for of surety they killed him not.”
So, is it true that Jesus was never crucified? If so, here is why the masses at the time never caught on to the hoax: We are told in Luke 23:49 that most of the eyewitnesses to Christ’s alleged crucifixion “stood afar off”—that is, they were apparently too far away to recognize that it was not actually him on the cross. In this scenario, the few who did stand nearby, and thus had a close-up view, would have been in on the scam and helped with the cover-up. If, on the other hand, it really was Christ on the cross, but that he survived the ordeal and was later smuggled out of the country, we could surmise that the “vinegar and gall,” or the “wine mixed with myrrh”— or whatever it was that Christ was offered while on the cross to “quench his thirst”—may have been laced with a powerful concoction to knock him out, giving the impression that he had died. This could easily have been arranged ahead of time by someone that Christ knew “on the inside.” And as we shall shortly see, Christ certainly did have such connections. Paul gives us an additional reason to suspect that Christ’s crucifixion may have been staged. In Galatians 3:1 he wrote these disturbing words: “You foolish Galatians! Who has bewitched you? Before your very eyes Jesus Christ was clearly portrayed as crucified.”
Portrayed? Why did Paul use this word? Does it not leave us with the impression that that the whole crucifixion scene was merely theatrics? As possible further proof that Christ may have survived his crucifixion (if, in fact, he was ever crucified to begin with), look what Josephus wrote in The Life of Flavius Josephus: “As I came back, I saw many captives crucified; and I remembered three of them as my former acquaintances. I was very sorry at this in my mind, and went with tears in my eyes to Titus [the commander of Judea and future Roman emperor]. So he immediately commanded them to be taken down, and to have the greatest care taken of them, in order to [facilitate] their recovery. Yet two of them died under the physician’s hands, while the third recovered.”
Was this a reference to Jesus and the two “thieves” crucified alongside him? And was Jesus, specifically, the one that survived here? The tale told in this Josephus quote might be the real story behind the New Testament account of Joseph of Arimathea (who may have actually been Josephus) attaining the body of Jesus (which either was not Jesus, but instead was Simon, or else it was Jesus who was only pretending to be dead, or appearing to be dead because he was passed out). It is noteworthy that, when the gospels say that Joseph of Arimathea took the body of Jesus, the word for “body” used, in the Greek, is soma, meaning “live body,” instead of ptoma, meaning “dead body,” or “corpse.” So, though we are compelled by the general gospel narrative to believe that Joseph carried away a dead Jesus, the original Greek betrays that conveyance.
We can conclude from this, therefore, that the original gospel authors surely did not personally write anything about Christ rising from the dead because this aspect of the story was added later on. Thus we find here yet more ammunition against the notion that Christ died on the cross. The proposition that Christ did not die at Calvary makes even more sense when we consider the story of him telling doubting Thomas to touch his wounds and see for himself that he was (allegedly) risen from the dead. For why would Christ, who had just been (again, allegedly) restored to life, still have his wound scars? Why was he not fully replenished with a flawless, regenerated body? If, however, he was taken off the cross while still alive, then crucifixion scars are just what we would expect to have been seen on him. Is it not strange how Christ confined his alleged post-resurrection appearances so that they only occurred in the presence of a small select group of people—the ones who were part of his close inner circle? Why did he not make a grand appearance before all the masses, to show the world the triumph he had supposedly just made over sin and death on behalf of all humanity? Would this not make sense, if he wanted all future generations to be assured of what happened? Imagine how many more converts there would have been, and how much more credible the Christian religion would be, if there were scores, if not hundreds or even thousands, of still-extant written testimonies to the story of this great man who conquered death, especially if those testimonies came from secular sources. But instead, there are absolutely no first century records of Christ’s resurrection anywhere, except in the unreliable, contradictory gospels (and it is highly doubtful that those records even date to the first century, as explained earlier). In other words, all we have to go on to assure us that the story of Christ’s death and resurrection is true is the undependable gospel record. Is this the best that an all-wise, all-knowing, and all-powerful god could do? It is of enormous import, and no surprise, that the tale of Christ’s crucifixion, death, and resurrection had obviously suffered a credibility problem from very early on in Christian history. For we find that Ignatius of Antioch, who lived in the second century, felt the need to continually stress that Christ did indeed die and rise from the dead, which presupposes that there were circulating doubts about these very proposals. In his epistle to the Trallians, he wrote: “…Jesus Christ…really was crucified and died, as seen by those in heaven and on earth and under the earth. He was also truly raised from the dead.”
Look again at the evidence he presented for these claims: “as seen by those in heaven and on earth and under the earth.” Well, that should settle it. In his letter to the Smyrnaeans, Ignatius further wrote: “…[Be] fully persuaded when it comes to our Lord…that he really was nailed up by Pontius Pilate and Herod the Tetrarch on our behalf, in the flesh.”
Be fully persuaded, he said. But based on what? Christians today are still offered these assurances, based on nothing but lies and half truths. If only these people were more well informed, or had more of a critical eye. Irenaeus, another church father who likewise wrote in the second century, expressed his doubts about Christ’s resurrection. In fact, he said that it was the Gnostics who invented the whole idea. He also mentioned how Christ lived a full life, long after the time he was alleged to have died, around 30 AD: “…from the fortieth and fiftieth year a man begins to decline towards old age, which the Lord possessed while he still fulfilled the office of a Teacher, even as…all the elders testify; those who were conversant in Asia with John, the disciple of the Lord, affirming that John conveyed to them that information. And he [Christ] remained among them up to the time of Trajan [98 AD]. Some of them, moreover, saw not only John, but the other apostles also, and heard the very same account from them, and bear testimony as to the validity of the statement….”
Imagine that. A further point needs to be made about Christ’s manifestly fabricated resurrection story: Matthew 28:12-15 depicts the Jewish leaders as paying off some Roman soldiers to lie about what happened to Christ’s body, when it was found to be missing from its tomb. They wanted the soldiers, says this passage, to say that the disciples had stolen the cadaver during the night, and thereby these soldiers would supposedly have been assisting the Jewish leaders in covering up Christ’s resurrection. But this aspect of the Christ narrative (like so many other parts of it) is utterly asinine. If the disciples were being blamed for stealing Christ’s body, then this would have placed them in great peril, since robbing a corpse was a serious offense then, as it is now. Why were none of the disciples later arrested for this crime, or at least interrogated? If the disciples really were pinned for taking Christ’s body, this would have been all the more reason for Jesus, after he rose, to make a grand appearance before the masses, so that he could exonerate his disciples from any such liability. You will recall our discussion earlier about the “resurrection” of Lazarus—how it was staged to look like a real raising from the dead, but was instead a reviving from spiritual death. Well, realizing how that resurrection was fake, why should anyone accept Christ’s resurrection as legitimate? The reality is, just as no one is rising from the dead today, neither has anyone done so thousands of years ago. It is nothing more than a pipedream. Though it would certainly be nice if it were true (and that we could all potentially rise from the dead ourselves one day as well), we cannot base our belief system, our hopes, or our understanding of reality on wishful thinking. Remember the expression: “If it sounds too good to be true, it probably is.” There is a fascinating hint in the book of Acts that Jesus faked his death and continued on covertly with his insurrectionist aims. For notice what we read in chapter 1, verses 6 and 7: “So when they [the disciples] had come together, they asked him, ‘Lord, is this the time when you will restore the kingdom to Israel?’ He replied, ‘It is not for you to know the times or periods that the Father has set…’”
In other words, this alleged resurrected Christ was still planning to carry out his ousting of the Romans (or the restoring of “the kingdom” to Israel), but he failed to let his disciples in on the timing of that hoped-for endeavor, plainly because he did not have an answer and was thus dodging the question. We talked a few moments ago about Jesus possibly having been the insurrectionist that Josephus referred to as someone who “came out of Egypt.” Bearing this thought in mind, pay heed to Acts 21:38, where a Roman commander asked Paul: “Aren’t you the Egyptian who started a revolt and led four thousand terrorists out into the wilderness some time ago?”
Paul spoke so much like Christ (the “Egyptian”) that this Roman serviceman got the two of them confused. But take note of how it was said that this “Egyptian” led 4,000 into the wilderness. Remember that, in one of the tales of the “miracle” of Jesus feeding a multitude by multiplying fishes and loaves of bread, the number fed was—you guessed it—4,000 (see Matthew 15:29-39). In The Life of Flavius Josephus we uncover this most profound statement that is so pertinent to our current discussion: “A certain Galilean then stayed at Jerusalem whose name was Jesus, who had about him a band of six hundred armed men.”
This remark was made in reference to an uprising which, going by what Josephus wrote, coincided with the beginning of the great Jewish war with Rome that started in 66 AD. So, do we not have here yet more confirmation that Jesus was not crucified (or at least not put to death) around 30 AD, if this Josephus passage is indeed a reference to the Jesus of the gospels? If the record of Jesus ascending up to heaven forty days or so after his “resurrection” was circulated in apostolic times, rather than having been invented by later gospel editors, we can logically postulate that Christ himself concocted this tale. It would have served as a great cover for him while he went into hiding where he could plan future insurrections from behind the scenes, without the bulk of his followers knowing he was still around, some of whom might have spilled the beans on him and spoiled his plans. Meanwhile, his enemies, believing he was deceased, would thus not be looking out for him and would no longer see him as a threat. It was quite an ingenious contrivance. The problem is, so many people through the centuries have fallen for it, and still continue to do so.
Christ’s Strong Financial Standing
If Christ was planning a revolt early on, would we not expect to see him chumming around with powerfully rich members of society in his day, to muster up the needed backing for his enterprise? This is precisely what we would expect to see, and it is what we see. Take a good look at the citations that follow, from the book of Luke:
- "Then Levi held a great banquet for Jesus at his house, and a large crowd of tax collectors and others were eating with them. But the Pharisees and the teachers of the law who belonged to their sect complained to his disciples, ‘Why do you eat and drink with tax collectors and sinners?’” - Luke 5:29, 30
- “The Son of Man came eating and drinking, and you say, ‘Here is a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners.’ But wisdom is proved right by all her children” - Luke 7:34, 35
- “Jesus entered Jericho and was passing through. A man was there by the name of Zacchaeus; he was a chief tax collector and was wealthy. He wanted to see who Jesus was, but because he was short he could not see over the crowd. So he ran ahead and climbed a sycamore-fig tree to see him, since Jesus was coming that way. When Jesus reached the spot, he looked up and said to him, ‘Zacchaeus, come down immediately. I must stay at your house today.’ So he came down at once and welcomed him gladly” - Luke 19:1-6
Not only do these passages tell us that Christ had friends in high places, but two of them reveal him to have been quite the party animal. And just look at how he justified this indulgent lifestyle—“wisdom is proved right by all her children.” What he was saying here is that, because he was “wise,” it was admissible for him to party it up with wealthy big shots, since it was all for a “good” cause (his insurrectionist cause). So there is no question that Christ hung out with rich people. But was he really after their money? Was that his true motive for chumming around with them (aside from the fact that they threw great parties)? As was typical of insurrectionists at the time, Jesus had an insatiable longing for money, but all the while cloaking that longing by saying things like (Matthew 19:24): “It’s easier for a camel to enter the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God.”
Christ’s desire for money, however, was not for his own personal gain. It was only to help support his all-important and ever-pervading agenda in life—his planned uprising.
Be aware that the “tax collectors” that Christ kept company with were the equivalent of today’s most illustrious bankers. The Jewish leadership was leery of him hanging out with this crowd because they knew what he was up to in doing so. They were also undoubtedly appalled by his hypocrisy—protesting taxes one minute, yet hanging around with those who collected them, in order to fund his operation. Through his association with this cast of characters, Christ learned the “virtues” of wealth accumulation, which became an utmost pressing factor for him—a factor that he passed on to his disciples through one of his parables. In this parable, he told of a businessman who, because he was often away traveling abroad, left it up to his servants to handle his money for him. Upon his return, he praised those servants who had made money on their investments of his cash. But one servant, who thought he was doing the right thing, had simply buried his portion for safekeeping, and later gave the full amount back to his master, without any increase. Jesus referred to this individual as a “wicked and slothful servant.” Think about that: Wicked and slothful? Why? Just because he did not invest his master’s money, but instead tucked it away? How is that wicked and slothful? It is not like this servant stole from his master. In reality, he was being very wise in not wanting to take risks with potentially faulty investments. In any case, continuing the story from there, Jesus went on to say (Matthew 25:28, 29): “Take therefore the money from him [the “wicked and slothful servant”], and give it unto him who has lots of money. For unto every one that has shall be given, and he shall have in abundance: but from him that has not shall be taken away even that which he has.”
So the “morals” of this horrible parable are:
- a. The charging of interest is an honorable, ethical, and worthy pursuit.
- b. Those who do not invest and make lots of money are wicked and slothful, and should be punished.
- c. The wealthiest and most unscrupulous should be rewarded with ever greater profits.
- d. The poor, frugal, and scrupulous should be made destitute.
Notice how Christ raised no objection to this desperately poor woman giving what amounted to “all she had to live on.” Even though this contribution was being given to the temple, we can safely assume that Christ accepted, and probably encouraged, such contributions to his own cause. After all, look at the phony promise he made in Luke 6:38: “Give, and it shall be given unto you; good measure, pressed down, and shaken together, and running over, shall men give into your bosom. For with the same measure that ye mete withal it shall be measured to you again.”
Many people, especially the poor, continue to fall for this line today. One of the Dead Sea Scrolls, in a commentary on the book of Habakkuk, makes this statement about the “Wicked Priest”: “He was called by the name of ‘truth’ when he first appeared, but on becoming a ruler he betrayed God for the sake of riches and defiled himself with wealth amassed by robbing…the peoples. He led many astray in order to build his city of vanity with blood and to raise a congregation on deceit. He robbed the poor of their possessions, but God punished him by delivering him to the hands of his enemies so that he should be humbled.”
Whether this was a reference specifically to Christ is not the point. It certainly describes the exact same mentality that he possessed, like all the other messianic claimants of the first century. But here is the ultimate mind blower: In Luke 16:1-9 Jesus delivered the parable of the dishonest manager. At the end of relating this story, in verse 9, he gave the moral thereof: “I tell you, use worldly wealth to gain friends for yourselves, so that when it is gone, you will be welcomed into eternal dwellings.”
Let there be no further questions harbored about Christ’s infatuation with money. But wait; there is more… Indications of Christ’s prestigious family ties with “high society” came very early in his life. As a baby he was visited by three magi—apparently kings from the East—who brought him gold and expensive herbs. Whether or not they actually were kings, they were unquestionably illustrious, affluent individuals. This surely does indicate that Jesus and his family were not only well connected, but that they may even have had royal blood. After all, was Jesus not called the “King of the Jews,” and was he not said to be “of the seed of David,” or of the “royal bloodline” of David? As we saw before, once we are able to dispense with the virgin birth fallacy, and accept that Christ really was the son of Joseph, then we can clearly see that he truly was of the Davidic bloodline, as the genealogy in the book of Matthew attests. Furthermore, though the story of Herod giving orders to kill all babies in Judea under two years old is a myth, nevertheless, it reveals that the baby Jesus must have been seen as some sort of royal heir, and probably really was esteemed as a political rival, or at least a potential political rival, by local contemporary rulers. Jesus was related to Zachariah, father of John the Baptist, who was a prominent figure in the temple. Christ was also good friends with Nicodemus, another important temple clergyman—a Pharisee and a member of the Sanhedrin, who became a secret follower of Christ. Jesus was also closely connected with Joanna, the wife of Chuza, who managed the household of Herod Antipas. Just look at these revealing interlocks that Christ had with the upper tiers of society. Remember, too, that Christ’s uncle—Joseph of Arimathea—was a very wealthy and influential businessman.
So, yes, Christ was surrounded by wealth and opulence his entire life. The wedding feast at Cana, where Christ allegedly turned water into wine, further demonstrates the prestige that Christ’s family had in the region, as this was by far no ordinary matrimonial celebration. We can detect this just by looking at the amount of wine that was “miraculously” provided for the guests by Christ. John 2:6 reveals that the jugs containing this wine were six in number, and that each one was capable of holding the equivalent of twenty to thirty gallons. This amounted to as much as 180 gallons of wine. Clearly, then, there were a lot of people in attendance at this wedding reception, which must have been for an important and financially well-endowed couple. We further read in verses 9 and 10 that the wine Christ dispensed was of the highest quality: “…Then he [the master of the banquet] called the bridegroom aside and said, ‘Everyone brings out the choice wine first and then the cheaper wine after the guests have had too much to drink; but you have saved the best till now.’”
So this was obviously extremely expensive wine, which required a lot of cold, hard cash. Where did Jesus get the money for it? (Forget the idea that he made it appear out of thin air!) It is awfully strange how the gospel of John is silent as to exactly whose wedding this was, not mentioning either of the names of this couple. Could it be that this was done deliberately, perhaps because the bride and groom were known supporters of Christ’s insurrectionist cause and thus wanted their identities kept secret? After all, Cana, where this wedding took place, was in Galilee—the top hotspot for breeding insurgents.
One last point to consider about this wedding feast is the leading role that Mary, Christ’s mother, had played in it, as we see from the opening words of John chapter 2 (verses 1-3): “On the third day a wedding took place at Cana in Galilee. Jesus’ mother was there, and Jesus and his disciples had also been invited to the wedding. When the wine was gone, Jesus’ mother said to him [Jesus], ‘They have no more wine’”
More than just a guest, it seems that Mary was the host of this celebration, or that she at least had some pull in this elite circle, as verse 5 further confirms: “His [Christ’s] mother said to the servants, ‘Do whatever he [Jesus] tells you.’”
Mary had to have a considerable degree of authority at this gathering to be able to say something like this. And then we have the “miracle” of feeding the 5,000 (or 4,000) with fish and bread. Where did the money come from to get all that food? (Once again, forget the idea of Jesus pulling it off with another magic trick.)
During his entire ministry, Jesus toured the countryside without holding down a job, and yet he never had any lack of funds. Also, Judas was the treasurer who held the money bag, and was dipping into it for his own use, as we see from John 12:6: “…he [Judas] was a thief; as keeper of the money bag, he used to help himself to what was put into it.”
Yet, all the while, Christ was not worried about this situation. In fact, he never worried about money at all. And please do not say that this was because he had “faith.” No, that was not the reason. It was because he had no shortage in the amount of cash flowing in his direction. A story cited earlier from Mark 14:3-9 provides a good example of Christ having no apprehensions about mishandled funds. The tale related here, as we noted a while back, involved a woman (apparently Mary Magdalene) who poured very expensive ointment (a year’s wages worth) over Christ’s head. After doing so, Judas complained that this was a waste of money, but Christ showed no concern about it whatsoever. Jesus was highly educated, as we see from John 7:15: “The Jews then were astonished, saying, ‘How has this man become learned, having never been educated?’”
The Jewish leaders had assumed that Jesus always lived in the vicinity of Judea, and thus was not well educated, having never attended any of their own schools. But clearly he was educated somewhere, and had received a highly advanced education at that. We mentioned before that he was probably taught by the Essenes, but it really does not matter where he was taught. The point is, such a luxury then, like today, was not available at a cheap price. Remember that, even at the age of twelve, Christ’s knowledge rivaled that of the religious leaders at the temple (Luke 2:47): “Everyone who heard him was amazed at his understanding and his answers.”
This would not have been the case unless Christ was receiving the finest education that money could buy. Christians believe that Jesus’ mission statement was essentially summed up in this oft-quoted verse (1 John 3:8): “… the devil sinneth from the beginning. For this purpose the Son of God was manifested, that he might destroy the works of the devil.”
But has Jesus really done this—destroyed the “works of the devil” (eradicated the “sin” problem)? Has there even been any discernable progress made in that direction over the past 2,000 years, either inside or outside the Christian world? No. Quite the opposite, as it turns out. His church, as fate would have it, has significantly contributed to the “sin problem” in the world. To such a degree, in fact, that it has to be said that its founder, the “savior from sin,” has been nothing but a miserable failure. And why? Because the whole story that has been built around him is a complete myth. Jesus, like all the other first century “messiahs,” was plainly and simply a rabble rouser. Take offense as they may, Christians will sooner or later have to come to grips with this unpleasant reality: Christ was not “God,” nor an angel, nor a prophet—he was a mere fallible human being with an ambition for power that never came to fruition.
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