Lent #3: What Jesus Wasn't Part 1

In the early days of the church, there were two major heresies which, at times, nearly ruined orthodox Christianity. They were called "Docetism" and "Gnosticism". Now, for many years I felt that "Gnosticism" must have something to do with those little Italian dumplings made out of potatoes (it doesn't), and "Docetism" - well, that wasn't a term I discovered until quite recently. But it may surprise you to hear that, while these heresies were countered decisively many, many years ago (the Apostles' Creed, which many churches say each week, was one way in which this was done), both are still alive and well in the church, and in the world around us. The shock of "The Da Vinci Code" was because Gnosticism pervades how many people think about our world and God's relationship to it, both in and out of the church. But there are other, subtler ways that we are threatened still by these heresies. Allow me to point out one:

1) Jesus was not a Zen Master

"No," you will almost certainly say, "we knew that. But thanks for telling us." And then you will proceed to look up another blog which specialises slightly less in the bleeding obvious.

But is it so obvious? I remember a few years ago talking to an unusual guy at a party who had come to the conclusion that Jesus went to India (apparently well-documented in a book called Jesus Lived In India) and there learnt to "transcend the physical". Interestingly, he spoke of this process of Jesus transcending the physical as if it were a well-attested fact which even orthodox Christians would have to affirm. At the time I dismissed it, but more recently I have begun to realise that he has a point: not that Jesus did learn to transcend the physical, but that we often, unknowingly, believe He did. And Lent seems as good a time as any to point out that this is a load of unmitigated rubbish.

First, why do we think this? When we think about disciplines like fasting, of which Lent is an extended period, we generally imagine that, at the end of it all, we will gain a kind of hallowed glow around us, rather than, as is more natural, feeling really, really hungry. Now, it might be helpful to point out that, when Jesus fasted for forty days, at the end of it He was so hungry that Satan was able to tempt Him to bow down and worship him, in exchange for food. Obviously Jesus did not give in - the Church would be in a fair amount of trouble if He had. But there's something really important to note here: that Jesus was tempted to do so. And what does this tell us? That there's a fair chance He was hungry, not, I suspect, a sign that, at that moment, He had "transcended the physical".

Now, the Buddha - so the story goes - was troubled by human suffering, and so fasted and fasted until he was barely alive. And then he had an epiphany. That epiphany formed the basis of what is now, in various forms and mutations, a highly popular religion. Let us note a key difference here: Buddhism views the physical as corrupt and needing to be overcome; the Christian God viewed the physical as something worthy of His Son to inhabit.

So, in conclusion: how then should we think of fasting, or self-denial, as we reach the halfway point of Lent? Should we be looking in the mirror for signs of a halo developing? Should we be expecting that we are starting to feel somehow more than human, somehow less dependent upon food? Far from it. Fasting is not, I must admit, something that I factor immensely into my theology, and I'm working on it being more and more something that I tackle. But it strikes me that, if I am to do so, it needs to be with a right view of - to risk a cliché - what it is to be human: not something innately flawed that needs to be overcome (that's the sin nature, not the very fact of being human), but something good which God came to redeem.