In today's world, the fusion of science, politics, and religious imagination often leads to perplexing circumstances. It seems that some individuals, driven by personal ideologies, have adopted the belief that they can reject scientific findings if they do not align with their preconceived notions. They create their own versions of science, cherry-picking information to suit their agendas. This unfortunate trend arises from a fundamental misunderstanding: science does not possess inherent ideological implications. It merely provides us with an accurate understanding of the world as it is, devoid of normative judgments.
When scientific premises give rise to moral judgments or prescriptive claims, the appropriate response is not to dismiss the underlying science but to scrutinize the logical arguments supporting those conclusions. However, this crucial distinction is often overlooked, leading people to reject science altogether rather than challenging flawed reasoning.
This conflation of science and politics is not a new phenomenon. Throughout history, we have seen how religious imagination intertwines with politics, shaping societal perceptions and values. This convergence of religious imagination and politics occurred in the 4th century during a period when Christian bishops were questioning the identity of Jesus of Nazareth which triggered intense political and religious debates. What rabbis referred to as "mystical thought" was denounced as heresy. The concept of Jesus as the Son of God in the human form presented an opportunity for certain religious factions to establish a monopoly on divine power and authority. The rise of Orthodox Christianity exemplifies this consolidation of power within an institution that claimed exclusive access to divine wisdom.
The echoes of religious narratives, even ancient ones, can still be discerned in contemporary cultures. Traditional stories such as Adam and Eve continue to influence legal frameworks, informing laws concerning homosexuality and defining marriage as a union between a man and a woman for procreation. For instance, the Defense of Marriage Act, penned by Professor Robert George at Princeton University for the George W. Bush administration, exemplifies how ancient beliefs shape contemporary legislation, often operating unconsciously in the societal fabric.
Moreover, hidden gospels, including the Gospel of Thomas, Philip, Truth, Peter, and Mary Magdalene, shed light on the diversity within early Christianity. These texts, previously lost and rediscovered, reveal a more extensive spectrum of beliefs than what is represented in present-day Christianity, ranging from Roman Catholicism to Christian Science or Quakerism. The Gospel of Thomas, in particular, presents Jesus not as the divine Son of God but as an enlightened figure who recognizes the inherent connection between individuals and the divine. Such alternative perspectives challenge the institutionalization of religious authority and offer parallels to the Buddhist notion of individual enlightenment through personal effort.
The story is pitched as a battle between the spirit of God and the evil power. So what’s going on on the ground? Jesus and his disciples are walking through Galilee and obviously, they embody the work of the spirit of God. That’s what happens at the beginning of the Gospel of Mark when the spirit of God comes on Jesus, and a voice comes from heaven and he’s proclaimed to be the Son of God. Jesus and the followers, that’s where the spirit of God is. Now, where’s Satan? Well, that would be the Romans who crucified Jesus on charges of being a Jewish religious revolutionary against Rome. That’s the charge that was written on the cross, that’s the sentence that was given only to slaves and to people who were traitors to the Roman Empire, including Jesus of course. So, it would be the Romans who crucified Jesus and the Jewish authorities who cooperated in the process.
The way the gospel stories are told is with the implication that the Romans had nothing to do with it and they didn't want to do it, but the Jewish crowds insisted because there was a religious quarrel among Jews, between followers of Jesus and people who didn't like it, that didn’t matter to the Romans at all. But that’s not what the history tells us. History is very clear: Jews didn’t crucify people. They didn’t have the equipment or the tradition. It was totally counter to their culture. The chief priests didn’t like him because he caused problems and started public demonstrations, people for and against it. The people who sentenced him and arrested him were Romans because they were told that he claimed to be a King of the Jews. It may be true that he claimed to be that and that he might have thought he was. So, he was guilty of insurrection, and we know that’s the charge on which he was crucified. The gospels go to great lengths to say, yes, he was crucified on that charge, but he was innocent. The whole thing was a mistake. The Jewish crowds and the chief priests deceived the Romans. That’s not what happened historically. We know that.
Reexamining the stories surrounding Jesus in the New Testament reveals intriguing dynamics. While the gospels frame the narrative as a spiritual battle between the spirit of God and evil forces, a closer analysis suggests a different perspective. Jesus and his disciples, representing the spirit of God, traversed Galilee, embodying divine influence. In contrast, the Romans, who ultimately crucified Jesus, symbolized the embodiment of evil in this context. Yet, the gospel accounts tend to associate Satan exclusively with the Jewish population, distorting historical realities. In truth, the Romans held the authority to execute and crucify individuals, including Jesus, on charges of insurrection against the Roman Empire.
In the 4th century when the Roman Empire adopted Christianity as its state religion—to everyone's shock because it had been illegal—it became dangerous not to be a Christian. That’s when anti-Jewish prejudice became a legal disability. For example, if a rabbi were to convert someone to become a member of the Jewish community, he could be burned alive.
So, that becomes part of the history of Western antisemitism. Who knew? Nobody had put it together that way before. They had known that the charges were wrong, but the association with Satan was not something anyone had written about. It’s very much part of the story because people still talk that way, dehumanizing enemies as monsters, beasts, and evil. It's still the rhetoric in our politics. Much of the way people respond to crises—political crises, social crises, financial crises—has to do with the way we interpret these events, and the interpretation is an imaginative one. These old ancient stories still play within the culture, often quite unconsciously.
Western creation stories were equally practical and these ancient things are not just cultural fossils, they communicate the values of the culture—values about sexuality, procreation, attitudes about death, work, men, women, and what’s appropriate to genders and so forth. That’s the work they do, and for that reason, they’re deeply part of the culture, whether they are Jewish traditions, Buddhist traditions, Hindu traditions, or Muslim.
Studying these traditions is the study of comparative cultures. Understanding the interplay of science, politics, and religious imagination requires us to critically examine the contradictions, cultural values, and historical distortions that have shaped our world. It is not a matter of blindly believing or dismissing religious traditions, but rather recognizing the power they hold in articulating the values and norms of a society. By engaging in thoughtful analysis and discernment, we can separate timeless wisdom from outdated dogmas, fostering a more inclusive and compassionate future for all.