THE FAITH OF JESUS

Introduction: The Jesus of History and the Stages of Faith

It has been estimated that in the last decade or so more books have been written and published about Jesus Christ than in the entire past history of Christianity. And despite the warning of modern scholars about those who peer narcissistically into their own prejudices to produce a Jesus to their own liking, it seems that just about everyone, including the scholars themselves, has been engaged in writing his or her own version of the gospel story, each one blending the facts, to the extent that we know them, to come up with an interpretation to suit personal purposes and insights. This book is probably no different. It is, very simply, my own attempt at a "Life of Christ".

I have already stated my purpose [in the Foreword]: it is to make the figure of Jesus more credible as a real historical human being who was, at the same time, preeminently, a person of faith.

A: The Historical Problem

Leaving aside the bizarre opinion of those who deny that Jesus of Nazareth ever lived, no one who sets his or her mind to the task of writing anything on this subject can afford paying some attention to the work of all those scholars, beginning early in the last century or even a little before, who have struggled in the so-called "Quest for the Historical Jesus" -- as distinguished from the "Christ of Faith." Despite the impression that this quest has been motivated by an attempt to tear down belief in Jesus Christ -- as may have been the case in a few instances -- the vast majority of these scholars have been most of all moved by a desire to make the figure of Christ more believable and less remote to human experience. Their efforts, of course, launched that whole movement of modern biblical "criticism" or scholarship, a quest that is far from over even today.

Nor do I wish to be accused of ignoring this important quest. I will, for example, make liberal use of the almost universally accepted distinction between the three layers of tradition as found in the sources, that is, in the Gospels themselves.

The first layer is, of course, the actual record of the sayings and at least some of the deeds of Jesus. That there happens to be a wide range of opinions as to what actually belongs to this memory of the real Jesus, does not change the fact that there was such a person and that he made a profound impression on those who heard and witnessed him, and which [impression], during his short career, also set the stage for his execution.

The second layer of this tradition, however, has a scope that goes beyond what Jesus may have actually said and done. This layer represents the development of the kerygma or "Gospel" (good news) message that proclaims the meaning of the life and death of Jesus for those who choose to follow him -- the most outstanding claim of which is that the ignominious death of Jesus as a supposed criminal was but the prelude to his resurrection from the dead, a "saving" event that will forever change the course of history and the fate of the human race.

Finally, beyond the fundamental message or meaning attached to his life by those who believed in him, there was created a third, or primarily theological level of exposition which gives each of the four traditionally accepted Gospels its own distinctive outlook, each of which seems to have been addressed to meet a particular need -- for example, Luke's particular attempt to present a Jesus who is more comprehensible to the non-Jewish world.

Although I will attempt to make ample use of these distinctions when they fit my purpose, I must point out some problems introduced by them as well.

The first is the most potentially damaging to any project like mine. It is simply that, in the opinion of many of the foremost scholars today, any attempt to construct a "life" of Jesus, in the manner of a biography, including a more or less agreed upon calendar of events making up his public life, is doomed from the start. While it has been long recognized that the order of particular events as presented in the Gospel of John -- other than his preaching being followed by his execution -- does not adhere closely to that presented by the other three Gospels (the "synoptics") and that those of Matthew and Luke borrowed more or less loosely from the story line found in Mark. In other words, the more or less detailed sequence of events presented by the Gospels is pretty much a "third level" tradition. The most primitive or primary level of tradition, the only part that is undoubtedly "historical" in the modern sense (again excluding his execution and probably his baptism) are the scattered recollections of his sayings and the reports of some of the astounding deeds that were said to have often accompanied them. So, obviously, we've got a problem here!

Nevertheless, I will foolishly forge forward on what may seem to at first be merely a "hunch" but which I think is a lot more than merely that. It based on what seems to me to be the most obviously "historical" fact of all -- that Jesus of Nazareth was a living person who, no matter how famous or controversial he may have become, was nevertheless a human being much as the rest of us are, and that although the fundamental conditions of human living may have changed greatly since that time, that nevertheless human nature itself has not changed all that much. Humans are still conceived, born, and to a large extent develop physically and psychologically, much as they always have and probably always will. And add to that the fact even the story, in its basic outlines, (whether it be a creation of Mark or anyone else, or actually a remembrance of the sequence of events as they really happened) logically fits, almost to a "T" as they say, what was to prove to be its recorded outcome -- not just by the Gospel writers but by a few non-Christian historians of that era. In fact, some scholars believe that even the story of the end of John the Baptist was retold to resemble that of Jesus. All this seems to me to be of great significance. Ask any playwright, for example, to tell a story of a would-be religious reformer who attracts a large following and ends up being executed by the authorities who want things to remain as they are, and you are bound to get a plot not unlike that presented by the Gospels. Such an outcome is almost, as they used to say, "written in the stars." So I have no problem in following the story line presented by the synoptics, and even using a bit of John's own story line, as representing what in all probability actually took place.

Yet there is a further problem. For even as I have tried to utilize the results of this historical quest as best I can, I have found myself forced, by the logic of the insights that I wish to bring to this study, to emphasize some aspects of the gospel story that modern biblical scholarship tends to discount as especially questionable, mysterious events such as the "finding of the child Jesus in the temple", the "temptations of Christ" in the desert, his "Transfiguration" and even (in my treatment of the Resurrection faith) his so-called "Descent into Hell" -- which although this latter is not mentioned in the gospels, is an old scripturally-based theme. Any mention of these, particularly of the latter, is bound to conjure up theories of religious "myth" designed to assure the reader that these "events" are not to be taken literally. But as Joseph Campbell has taught us, are they not to be taken seriously none the less? If myth is not to be understood as a vehicle of existential truth (as kind of truth that as one author put it, never "happened" but nevertheless "is") then religious belief is indeed in a bad way.

However, the reason I choose to single out these events is not primarily based on any enlightened view of the meaning of myth or on the rejection of historical criticism. Instead, most of all, it has to do with the realm of psychology in general, and more specifically developmental psychology and with what has become recently recognized and closely studied in terms of the phenomenon known as the "stages of faith".

B. Faith Stages

No doubt that any mention of the word "psychology" in this context will cause all the red warning flags to go up. If there is any kind of speculation that upsets the typical academic biblical scholar more than conjectures of what may or may have not been the psychological state of Jesus at any given time, I don't know what else it might be. Depictions of Jesus as having rejoiced, been saddened, to have wept, or that he groaned, or that he sometimes got outright angry, seems to bother no one just as long as people like me don't suggest what the reasons might conceivably have been for these expressions of emotion. No doubt, most of these depictions belong to the third level "story line" of the tradition, but again, I would suggest that a logical basis for such expressions (whether they took place at the occasions as described in the gospels or not) would be in the structure of the human psyche itself, something that again I presume that Jesus shared with the rest of us. In fact, the only logical reason I can really find for denying ourselves some plausibly valid insights into the mental and psychological processes that probably did in fact take place in Jesus' mind would be the denial that he had a mind that worked anything like ours do -- an opinion which, despite its repeated occurrence down through history (like in the incident I recounted in the foreward) was long ago condemned as being heretical.

It is for this reason that I will make no further apologies for treating the possibility of something like Luke's story of the "Finding in the Temple" as being highly plausible, even if not historically verifiable, or the visionary experience on Mt. Tabor, [no matter how confounding to modern prejudices] as being, very possibly, the major historical turning point of Jesus' own decision to carry out what he understood to be his mission, cost what it might, to the very end. The fact that such incidents may have been added to the story by the evangelists as so-called "theologumena" or "God-talk" does not bother me all that much. If anyone knows anything about the lives of mystics, prophets, and even some philosophers, such psychic events all more "real", at least in terms of what motivated their outlook and behavior, than most other things in the story of their lives.

Thus, unlike most of the scholarly "questers" after the historical Jesus, I have not attempted to put aside these later levels of tradition to concentrate on the actual words and deeds of Jesus alone, but instead I have tried to use the results of their quest to "clear the deck", as it were, to make room for a new approach, a new theological "slant" -- even a new "third level" interpretation if you will -- while the second level message or kerygma supplies the guidelines as to where my own quest is taking me.

And just what is this insight or approach? Again it is, as I hope the title of this book, as well as the personal story I recounted in the foreword tried to make clear, an attempt to apply "faith stage" analysis to the story of Jesus in hopes that his life can be more effectively a model for ours.

The research that led to such a concept as faith stages originally had nothing to do with religion or belief. It has its roots in the pioneering work of the Swiss educational psychologist Jean Piaget, who years back did extensive studies on the cognitive stages of growth in the reasoning processes of young boys. There were no big surprises, except the suspicion that many adults continue to reason in similar ways, confirming what later feminist critics are right to point out, even if in a different context, that "boys will be boys."

Piaget's findings were then used for a similar series of studies, but this time focused particularly on moral reasoning, by the American psychologist Lawrence Kohlberg. In this case, the results were rather upsetting, especially when correlated to adult methods of moral reasoning, for it seems that few of the subjects progressed much farther than the kind of immediate group and peer loyalty, with its notion of "fairness" as the norm of justice, that is usually reached in the latter stages of childhood or early adolescence. Further studies have shown that most adults, unless effectively challenged to go beyond that stage of moral reasoning, rarely do so.

Now I think that this is highly significant when it comes to understanding the impact of Jesus on his own society -- unless we are to suppose that in that time and place people were already generally advanced beyond what seems the norm now. In some aspects perhaps they were, but across-the-board, I doubt it very much. Clearly Jesus was preaching [what amounts to] a new stage of moral development, one that while it attracted large numbers of the general population, at the same time caused the authorities to become alarmed. While such an effect could have been, of course, caused by any rabble-rouser, it is clear the effect recorded by the Gospels, particularly by those passages that make up "The Sermon on the Mount", that this was a call to a new stage of religious and moral consciousness.

Which leads up more specifically to the "stages of faith". Following Kohlberg's lead, theologian James W. Fowler developed further sets of tests, one that focused on the understandings and attitude generally associated with faith or religion, beliefs, and found a much similar result. The majority of adults showed signs of not having advanced in their understanding of their religious beliefs in any way that much differed from those reached in their early teens. Thus most adults seem to be comfortable with what can be called an entirely "conventional" stage of faith, one which identifies one's religious faith with one's family, nationality, or ethnic group. This is not to imply that this allegiance is insincere. But it is often confused with other things that have nothing to do with religion.

On the other hand, in Fowler's study there was a significant minority who showed considerable personal commitment that is quite independent of the above factors, even though it may still coincide with them. Here we have the occurrence of a truly "personal" faith, one that has to be taken seriously as a commitment made by an individual quite conscious of what is at stake. In other words, at the heart of a "personal faith" is a kind of "conversion" experience, at least in the sense of a deliberate owning up to what has been up to that time largely taken for granted. Some, no doubt in a more emotional sense, call this a "born-again" experience. Others, taking a more intellectual approach, may simply see it as taking one's own religion seriously.

However, beyond that stage, is one which is characterized perhaps by what might be thought of as a broader or more philosophical point of view, one in which there is a certain openness towards others' points of view or towards persons that their own society tended to reject. It seems to be an attitude that is more concerned about people's well-being than about their religious affiliation, about doing good things than about identity or loyalty to any particular group. Here the conflict between Jesus and the Pharisees (at least as the latter are depicted in the Gospels -- which is to say hardly in a complimentary way) if not entirely accurate, nevertheless highlights the difference. Both are sincerely committed to what they believe. The charge of "hypocrite" may not be a very accurate translation here, as at least some of these fellows apparently really did believe you could lose your soul by failing to wash your dishes. Jesus apparently believed there were much more important issues at stake and more important standards by which one would be judged than whether one was an observant Jew or not.

Finally, Fowler's analysis holds up a higher stage yet, one which is so rare we are given to calling such people "saints" -- even though a lot of the folk given this title down through history had some glaring faults nonetheless. Some were great mystics, others were martyrs, some neither, but in general, they seem to be people who try, as much as they can, to live in constant awareness of God and in constant obedience to God's will as they see it. Not all of them, by a long shot, have been Christians. Yet how much they still remind us of Jesus!

Which brings up the final thing that has to be considered before we examine his faith and his life. Why is it that so few people succeed in emulating his example -- or even try to? The answer to this question forms what might be called the base note or background theme of this book. It has to do with the very nature of faith.

C. The Risk of Faith

It should be understood, despite the widespread confusion between the two words, that "faith" is not the same as "belief". People believe all sorts of things, many of them not having the slightest thing to do with faith in any theological sense of the word. Faith in the biblical meaning of the Hebrew word "emunah", and especially in the Gospel meaning of the Greek word "pistis", has primary to do with trust. No doubt this trust is founded on certain beliefs, but without the commitment that trust demands, there can be no real faith.

Nor does the commitment of faith mean the same as "confidence" despite the inclusion of the Latin word for faith (fides) in that much desired attitude towards life. Confidence, at best, is but a by-product of a life of faith, and as a by-product, can never become an end or goal in itself. (See especially the discussion of this dynamic in chapters 1 and 2 of Faith:Security and Risk) God will not be used as a self- enhancement program or as a security blanket. Real faith is not refuge from life. It means just the opposite.

Hence it must be made clear that real faith involves risk and that risk is really, when one comes down to it, a matter of defining the whole meaning of our life in terms what we believe to be our responsibility to God and to the world.

Thus the risk involved in living the life of faith, a risk multiplied by the fact that this belief cannot be certain knowledge. We walk by faith and not by sight. No one, upon making a commitment, knows exactly what the outcome might be. Otherwise, a commitment would not be necessary. The security of knowing that all will turn out well is nice to have, but if we were absolutely certain, we would have no more need for faith.

All this suggests that the failure to grow in faith, the inability to risk the consolation afforded by ones present stage of faith, it itself the greatest obstacle to any further growth. How else explain the unspeakable crimes committed down through history in the name of religion or the attitudes that even today the attitudes of religious intolerance that pit one "true believer" against another? Do such people manifest any real trust in God? By any stretch of the imagination, can this be said to be what Jesus taught? If Jesus steadfastly refused either to be intimidated by his opponents, or to strike back at them or in any way to coerce them, but instead to suffer their persecution in resolute dedication to his mission as he saw it, it was because love, and the faith and hope that flowed from it, were the main motive forces of his life.

This is why I propose Jesus as a model for us, because in an age of disbelief -- or, I should say rather in an age that is ready to believe anything, providing it produces good feeling -- I'd say that it is Jesus who most of all presents to us an example of genuine and radical faith. And it was without doubt a faith that grew in intensity the more it was challenged by the risk-taking demanded by his mission to the world. Thus it is that the faith of Jesus -- and by this I mean the faith that Jesus himself had in the God whom he called his "father"-- must be the great exemplar for our own faith. Otherwise, can we really claim to be his followers in the footsteps of his "race" to do the Father's will?

This is also why I have put so much weight in the passage I cited from the Epistle to the Hebrews -- not just because it is the one place in scripture that refers so directly to Jesus as our "leader in faith" (despite the long history of mistranslations to avoid facing that statement: see the appendix at the end of this book for details about the doctoring of Hebrews 12:1-2) but because this epistle, the same that is absolutely unstinting of its avowal and praise of Jesus as the "Son" of God, is completely shot through with the call to Christians to follow him in the marathon-like "race" by which he (and eventually we) are to earn our reward.

There are, I realize, many people, not all of them Bible translators or theologians, for whom this approach raises difficulties. After all, is not Jesus divine? Would he have not, as Son of God, already known all that he needed to know as a man? How could Jesus be said to have had "faith"? In this way, our belief in Christ's divinity has, all too often, acted like a set of "blinders" that have prevented us from seeing clearly what is all too obvious to those who read the scriptures without prejudice -- that Jesus had his own set of convictions, and that even some of these, at least in part, may have been incomplete or subject to revision as time went on.

No doubt some will say that in suggesting this that I have fixed my own set of "blinders" to establish my own prejudice and an agenda to go with it -- that of trying to humanize Christ and make him just like one of us. If by "just" is implied that he was simply the same as us in every way, then no, I would deny this charge. "No man has spoken as this man" nor has any mere man lived as this one. But still, I am trying to see Jesus in his full humanity. I don't think I can try to fool the reader about that. Here I believe that I stand in full solidarity with those early Church theologians who made it their maxim, in the face of those who would water down Jesus' humanity to leave more room for his divinity, that "what wasn't assumed wasn't redeemed". Accordingly, if Jesus truly existed as a living, breathing, human being, he had to live to some extent, as the "just man" on "faith alone".

I realize that it may be that this image of the Christ who runs the race of faith before us and leads us to its completion still has to be reconciled with that of the glorified "Son of God". Simply making both assertions, even if that is what the Epistle to the Hebrews does, is not enough. Human understanding, being limited, tends to latch on to one side or another of what seems to be a contradiction in terms. Because of that, I have added a final chapter or "Christological Postscript" in which I have attempted to sketch my approach to keeping this balance and which readers are invited to turn at any time they harbor suspicions that I have already lost it. But they must understand that this book is first of all concerned with contemplating the faith of Jesus, while task of achieving a metaphysical understanding of our faith in Jesus as both God and man is quite another thing, and would have be the task of another book, one that would turn out to be much longer than this one.

Proceed to Chapter 1

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