Delusional Exegesis from Jefferts Schori

Click HERE for the text of a recent sermon by Katharine Jefferts Schori, Presiding Bishop of The Episcopal Church in America, given at All Saints Church, Steenrijk, Curaçao (Diocese of Venezuela) on 12 May 2013.

In line with one of the respondents, I think this has to be one of the most delusional pieces of exegesis and theological extrapolation I’ve ever encountered. Jefferts Schori equates Paul casting out the demon from the Philippian slave girl (Acts 16), thus ending the exploitation by her pimps, as depriving her of her beautiful and holy gift. Apparently the demon in her was the Spirit of God!

Yep! You read that right. You can read the whole thing HERE to see that I’m not taking it out of context, but here’s an excerpt:

But Paul is annoyed, perhaps for being put in his place, and he responds by depriving her [the slave girl] of her gift of spiritual awareness.  Paul can’t abide something he won’t see as beautiful or holy, so he tries to destroy it. [...] It makes me wonder what would have happened to that slave girl if Paul had seen the spirit of God in her.

This is what passes for biblical exegesis? By a bishop? A presiding bishop, no less? I’ve heard some shocker sermons in my time, but mangling the text like this to say the complete opposite of what it’s actually saying is breathtaking. How in God’s name can this be taken seriously?

God help us!

 

Remembering Nicaea

Yesterday (May 20th) was the 1688th anniversary of the start of the Council of Nicaea (a.k.a. Nicaea I). To mark the occasion, Fred Sanders has written a nice succinct article (though beware of the technical terms) called ‘What Happened at Nicaea?’ It’s an interesting read, but unfortunately the title is somewhat misleading. While the article has some really good information about theology in the fourth century, it doesn’t really tell us what happened at Nicaea. Rather, it gives us a good summary of what happened in theology after Nicaea. I don’t think Sanders is aiming to mislead, though. I just think the title does not really match the article’s content.

The article gives the impression that Athanasius was able to win the day with his theology at the Council of Nicaea in 325, but historically that’s not true. In fact, no sooner had the council finished up, than its conclusions were questioned. It took the rest of Athanasius’ life and the Council of Constantinople in 381 to bring theologians back into an orthodox understanding of God’s ontology. Athanasius himself seems to have played a minor role in proceedings at Nicaea, being a young deacon under his bishop, Alexander.

Also, the article gives the impression that those who disagreed with Athanasius were all Arians, but this is a mistake. Arius was very quickly neutralised and sidelined at the council. And even though Arius had a brief period in which his reputation was rehabilitated, he never really recovered his clout. Debate then proceeded for the next few decades after Nicaea between Athanasius and the radical subordinationists like Eusebius of Caesarea and Eusebius of Nicomedia. These guys weren’t Arians, though. Athanasius calls them ‘Arians’ throughout his writings to show that the logical endpoint of their theology was not far from Arius’ conclusions. They wanted to major on the difference between the Father and the Son in the Godhead, which is well and good in maintaining a distinction between the persons of the Godhead, and so avoiding the heresy of Modalism (a.k.a. Sabellianism). They saw the Son as subordinate to the Father, which is biblical, but then concluded that the Son was an inferior being to the Father. Athanasius rightly saw this as a fatal theological flaw. Subordination did not mean inferiority or separation. In order to capture this, Athanasius insisted on new terms, such as ὁμοούσιος (homoousios—’of the same substance’) to describe the relationship between the Father and the Son. The radical subordinationists, however, saw this as unbiblical, and wanted to stay with biblical terminology only. Athansius eventually won the day by insisting that new terms helped to clarify what the biblical terms meant, giving precision to theological discussion. Throughout this process, though, Athanasius called the radical subordinationists ‘Arians’. This does not mean they actually were Arians, though. This was just a rhetorical strategy on the part of Athanasius: everyone knew Arius was anathematised, so if Athanasius could tar his opponents with a similar brush, he might score some points and have some chance of keeping his orthodox theology alive in a very hostile environment. It was another way of implying that the conclusions of the radical subordinationists were unbiblical and should be rejected.

Athanasius did end up winning the day. A key turning point came when he chaired the local Council of Alexandria in 362. At this council, he made a huge leap forward in reconciling the theological terms people were using. He argued that those who talked about the Son’s substance as being ‘similar to the Father’ (ὁμοιούσιος) were being orthodox if in using the term they were not denying the full divinity of Christ and a singular triune Godhead. In other words, people could use the notion of ‘similar substance’ if they were implying that the Father and Son were coequal within the Trinity. This began to win many over to Athanasius’ theology. Eventually, it was the (now) older terminology of Nicaea that would become the standard paradigm for describing the nature of God: all three persons were ὁμοούσιος (of ‘one substance’). This was ratified at the Council of Constantinople in 381, and further developed by the likes of the Cappadocians (Basil of Caesarea, Gregory of Nyssa, and Gregory of Nazianzus).

So while the Council of Nicaea in 325 was of immense significance, it actually took most of the fourth century to bear out its conclusions.

If we redefine marriage, what exactly are we leaving behind?

If we redefine marriage to include same sex relationships, what exactly are we leaving behind? In this thoughtful article, Andrew Errington* asks the question and challenges us to be informed about what we would be turning from. He injects some rational consideration into this highly charged issue.

The article is on the ABC (Australian Broadcasting Corporation) website. Just click HERE to access it.

*Andrew Errington is Assistant Minister at St Stephens Newtown (Sydney), and member of the Social Issues Executive of the Sydney Anglican Diocese.

Society and Rights: A Brief Response to an Article on Gay marriage

Doug Mainwaring

I just read an interesting article from Doug Mainwaring, co-founder of the National Capital Tea Party Patriots. The article is called I’m gay, and I oppose gay marriage. Have a read. It’s brief, but thought provoking, and raises the connection between marriage and children, which we tend to overlook or sideline as irrelevant in the debate over the definition of marriage.

To my mind the article highlights the huge gap between people’s motivation for seeking marriage, and how the society and the state relate to it as an institution. No one thinks in terms of an institution anymore—we can only really think in terms of our own individual rights.

I think we have become so focused on our own personal rights that we’ve lost sight of the fact that society is a web of different but interconnected people with institutions and measures in place to serve the collective, not just the individual. We no longer really care about a “society” or see ourselves as part of a collective. We only see individuals and care only about individual rights. As such, we try to banish anything that impedes those rights, even if it may be legitimately contributing to a common good. “Me” completely trumps “us”. This attitude that demands no barriers to marriage, and refuses to see children as having anything to do with marriage, is the same attitude that is hamstringing the US federal government in relation to gun reform: every “one” has a right, and it’s wrong to deprive any “one” of that right, no matter what.

We have so reified the concept of the individual that the concept of society—the coming together of different persons for a common good—is waning fast. The individual is becoming the new society, not just a unit of it. In other words, “us” is being replaced by “me”. We do not all hold the same ideals, and yet we still have to share the same space with each other. We are losing our ability to perceive an “us”, because we can only really think of our society as a bunch of “me’s”. We are no longer planets orbiting together around a common sun. We are stray meteors and comets doing our own thing on our own course. Occasionally we are colliding with each other.

In practice, we are no longer led by a principle that commends sacrifice for the other. Rather, we demand rights, and more of them, as something to be grasped, and cannot possibly conceive of emptying ourselves for the sake of others within a common good. Sure, we have Anzac Day next week, and we celebrate fallen warriors and their sacrifice. But we have absolutely no intention of emulating the ideal once the veterans’ parade is over. We momentarily enjoy the sense of togetherness and identity that these kinds of remembrance give us. We enjoy a day’s orbit around a common good and the warmth it gives us for a short while. But we are not willing to continue that orbit the next day. We each go off on our own merry way, determining our own individual course, and God help anyone who gets in our way. Our common system is unravelling.

The concept of rights, which was originally crafted to vouchsafe society and a common good, is ironically now undermining it. We have sacrificed personhood and society on the altar of rights and individualism. It’s the wrong kind of sacrifice to be making.

Society can no longer relate to us as the people we are—as men and women; as boys and girls; as husbands and wives; as fathers and mothers; as sons and daughters. Society can only address us as individuals: anonymous, genderless, ancestorless, and childless. The terms that define us and our identity, which also link us to each other, are being eclipsed by the great “me”—a concept whose only identifying link is “not you”. There is no room anymore for “us”. And when we lose sight of “us”, we actually start to misunderstand “me” as well, since as human beings we actually mutually define each other. We are losing our identity.

And we complain when the banks treat us as just a number!

The Top Ten Grand Prix Circuits (Part 2: Number One)

So which track is number one? Which is the world’s best grand prix circuit? In my opinion, it’s…

1. Suzuka (Suzuka, Japan)

This is not only Japan’s premier circuit, but is, in my opinion, the world’s best. It has everything.

The start line is on a decent-sized straight that allows cars to demonstrate their speed, reaching over 300 km/h. The first corner is then at high speed (about 260 km/h) and drivers have to tame their pace so as to position themselves carefully for turn 2 at 140 km/h. Both corners represent overtaking opportunities. Then follow the series of fast, flowing S-curves (turns 3, 4, 5, and 6), each with differing camber and elevation. Drivers have to alternate carefully between squeezing the throttle here or tapping the brakes. At the end of the S-curves comes the long sweeping left hander known as Dunlop Curve (turn 7). This is where the cars pick up considerable speed, straining their neck muscles with the g-forces, before the two tricky right-handed Degner corners (turns 8 and 9). The angle and pace of these corners requires precision and it’s so easy to get out of shape here. Out of the second Degner, the circuit passes underneath the bridge that makes this a figure-of-eight track. There is a short spurt of speed through the right hand kink at turn 10, and into the left-hand hairpin (turn 11). This tight corner actually has an interesting camber that allows for two different lines through it. Again, this is a great overtaking spot. Out of the hairpin, the track sweeps through a long uphill right hander (turn 12). The cars pick up a lot of pace here, getting to 300 km/h. No sooner do the cars reach the top of the hill than they enter the challenging left-hand bends of the Spoon Curve (turns 13 and 14). The entry into the curve is initially blind, so the braking point is challenging. Ayrton Senna described the Spoon Curve (aptly named for its shape) as the most challenging corner in Formula One because it’s so hard to get a good smooth line through it without losing revs dramatically and having to apply too much braking. Out of the spoon curve, the course opens out onto the longest straight which starts as a bit of a left hand sweep. This straight crosses the bridge over the circuit beneath (between Degner 2 and the Hairpin). At the end of the straight comes the ultra fast left-hander known as 130-R (turn 15) Drivers toy with doing this corner flat-out. After 130-R there is a short but very fast run up to the slowest part of the circuit: the chicane (turns 16 and 17) known as ‘Casio Triangle’. This is definitely an overtaking spot, and many a brave manoeuvre has been tried here, including the infamous collision between Alain Prost and Ayrton Senna near the end of the 1989 Japanese Grand Prix. Out of the chicane the cars accelerate through the quick right hand bend (turn 18) back onto the home straight.

Suzuka represents a challenge in all respects. It requires cars to be primed aerodynamically for fast straights with stop speeds in excess of 310 km/h, as well as for the range of corners in the lap. Since most corners are fairly fast and flowing, the tyres are also critical here. And the configuration of some of the bends means that it’s very difficult to get the optimum line. Everything has to come together well for the perfect lap. This circuit really brings a lot out of both car and driver.

Suzuka, Japan

The start-finish straight at Suzuka

The fast first turn (right), leading into the tricky turn 2 (left)

The exit of the final S-curve and the beginning of the long left-handed Dunlop Curve

The Hairpin. The exit sweeps uphill to the right.

The entry to the first left-hander of the Spoon Curve

Alain Prost and Ayrton Senna infamously come together at the chicane in the 1989 Japanese GP. It wasn’t the only time they would tangle at Suzuka and decide the world championship.

So to recap, here’s my top ten GP circuits in the world:

1. Suzuka, Japan
2. Spa-Francorchamps, Belgium
3. Singapore
4. Monte Carlo, Monaco
5. Österreichring, Austria
6. Istanbul Park, Turkey
7. Silverstone, England
8. Buddh International Circuit, India
9. Imola, Italy
10. Interlagos, Brazil

I must give honourable mentions to three particular tracks which are excellent in their own right, but which have never hosted a Formula One GP. They are:

1. Mount Panorama (Bathurst, Australia)
2. Laguna Seca (California, USA)
3. Macau (Macau, China)

These three circuits each have distinctive features that make for great racing, but other formulas race there. At present, they don’t quite meet the facility standards for Formula One, but they are nonetheless excellent tracks.

Well there you have it. That’s my top ten. I’d love to hear your thoughts or your top ten. Cheers!

The Top Ten Grand Prix Circuits in the World (Part 1)

First of all, apologies to all the non-Formula One fans.

I recently read an article where the journalist gave his top ten motor racing circuits of all time. And one of them happened to be the Shanghai International Circuit which is hosting this weekend’s Chinese Grand Prix. Well, I was somewhat flabbergasted! Shanghai? Really?

Well, instead of having a fanatic’s F1 hissy fit, I thought I’d make a fanatical F1 fuss and compile my own top ten Grand Prix circuits of all time.

First, I need to establish my criteria. In compiling this list, I’m not looking for the ‘classic’ circuits that are steeped in history, or have hosted memorable races. Rather, I’m looking for circuits that present challenges to the drivers as well as provide a spectacle for the fans—those circuits that provide an all-round motor sporting experience.

Second, the circuits have to have hosted a Formula One Grand Prix.

And so, without further ado, I present to you the countdown of my top ten Grand Prix circuits of all time.

10. Interlagos (São Paulo, Brazil)

This circuit has been around a while, but has hosted the Brazilian GP in its current configuration since 1990. It’s long sweeping left-bending home stretch and the first few corners make for some great wheel-to-wheel action. The rest of the lap is undulating and has a number of good overtaking opportunities. The track is starting to feel very old now, and I know there are rumours about the track getting a major upgrade (which it needs) or the GP being relocated to Rio. But as a circuit, it’s got a great feel.

Interlagos

Cars heading into the first corner at Interlagos

9. Imola (Imola, Italy)

This circuit can now no longer shake the notoriety of the horrific 1994 San Marino Grand Prix. During that race weekend, both Roland Ratzenberger and Ayrton Senna lost their lives in two sickening high speed crashes, and Rubens Barichello (then a rookie) was almost a third fatality. Some years beforehand, Gerhard Berger’s car crashed and went up in flames, with the Austrian lucky to survive. It’s not surprising that the circuit now no longer hosts Formula One. Yet despite such infamy, the track itself was one of the best in its day. There was a combination of high speed straights and bends, as well as hairpins and tight chicanes, all in the lush countryside of Italy’s Emilia-Romagna. This combination, in my opinion, made the circuit better than the Italian circuit of Monza, which although among the fastest, most historic, and most atmospheric in the world (thanks to the Tifosi), lacks the driving character of Imola. Monza is a speedster circuit, so a fast car will get you results. But at Imola, the driver was a much bigger factor in the outcome, and that made for better racing.

Imola

Cars heading into Tosa corner

8.Buddh International Circuit (New Delhi, India)

This circuit is a relative newbie on the Formula One calendar. Designed by Herman Tilke, who has been criticised for creating soulless circuits, this is definitely one of his best. The blind up-hill turn 3 is a great one for overtaking action, and the high speed right-hander at turn 10 is a real challenge for drivers to accomplish smoothly. The final corner, with its odd widening entry, also allows for some interesting overtaking manoeuvres. Another thing I like about this track is that Felipe Massa struggles interminably at it (yes, I know I’m bad!). I’m glad this track is currently on the racing schedule, and I hope it stays for a long time.

Buddh International Circuit

Mark Webber exits turn 3 at Buddh.

7. Silverstone (Northamptonshire, England)

Silverstone is definitely one of the classic tracks in Formula One. It hosted the very first world championship Grand Prix event in 1950. The circuit is built around an old airfield, and has seen a number of configurations in Formula One alone. The latest configuration debuted last year (2012). But I think the configuration for the British GP in 1991–1993 is perhaps the best there has been. That configuration still retained some of the speed and challenging corners of the original circuit, with just enough slower corners to allow some good overtaking. These days, despite having a brilliant new pits section after Club corner, the circuit just has too many corners that I believe have taken away some of the character of the circuit. And yet, it’s still a great track! I just wish they hadn’t meddled with the configuration after 1993.

Silverstone’s current layout

SIlverstone 1991–1993

Hangar Straight leading into the left-hander at Stowe

6. Istanbul Park (Istanbul, Turkey)

Another of Herman Tilke’s circuit designs, this one is definitely his best. Situated on the outskirts of the Asian side of Istanbul, the circuit includes some brilliant corners that challenge the drivers with breaking and acceleration. The camber through turns 3, 4, 5, and 6 make for interesting grip conditions, and the multi-apex turn 7 is one of the best high speed corners there is. The pit buildings also have a lovely Ottoman feel, giving the race a real sense of its location. Despite the fact that Felipe Massa excels here (bad again, I know!), I regret that poor crowds (and stray dogs!) meant this circuit had to be dropped from the Formula One calendar. I do hope it returns some day soon.

Istanbul Park

The end of the pit straight with its distinctive Ottoman-style pit complex.

5. Österreichring (Spielberg, Austria)

These days, the circuit at Spielberg is owned by Red Bull and known as the Red Bull-ring. It looks quite different now from how it used to be back in its heyday during the 1980s. But that original track used to be known as the Österreichring (“Circuit Austria”), and it was faaaaaast! Back then, the hills were alive with the sound of engines! The track swept up and down steep hills (including two just on the first straight), with bends rather than corners presenting the overtaking challenges for the drivers. The one drawback for this track was its very narrow start-finish straight, demonstrated by the carnage of two aborted race starts in the 1987 Austrian GP (it was third time lucky). The circuit also wraps around a pine forest, which Stefan Johansson discovered (also in 1987) is home to deer. Johansson’s McLaren collided with a gambolling deer during Friday practice, and was fortunate enough to walk away from the accident (the deer wasn’t so fortunate, though). This old track represented a great mix of driver, machine, and terrain. In the era of ground-effects cars in the early 1980s, the speeds drivers achieved was frightening (Gerhard Berger was, if I remember rightly, clocked at 374 km/h at this circuit). The reconfiguration that shortened the track took some of the life out of it, in my opinion, so when the track made a come back in 1997 as the A1-ring, it just wasn’t quite the same. So I’m glad it no longer occupies a spot on the championship calendar. But this used to be one of the great circuits.

The old Österreichring in grey, with the newer configuration in black.

The first hill on the pit straight of the old Österreichring

4. Monte Carlo (Monaco)

You could almost say that the circuit through the streets of Monte Carlo is an obligatory inclusion in a top ten list like this. But it’s not just because of the glitz, glamour, and history of the race here. It’s actually because of the incredible challenge that Monaco represents. The track has been criticised by some enthusiasts because the cars and their calibre outgrew the streets many decades ago. So the fact that there is still a GP here is almost an anachronism. However, in some senses it’s precisely this that is the challenge of Monaco. The drivers need to tame the wildness of their cars in order to negotiate with Monaco’s unforgiving walls and bumps enclosing the roads around Monte Carlo Habour. The lack of run-off areas means there is so very little room for error, and that makes this a real drivers’ circuit. Precision and skill are key factors. Former commentator Murray Walker once said that his favourite corner in all of Formula One was the left hander at the top of the hill at Massenet. There, Walker said, the tyres of the cars ‘kiss’ the armco barriers as they speed around into Casino Square. And, of course, there is the iconic Loews Hairpin—the slowest corner in Formula One, where one can generally see all the cars slither their way downhill like a giant colourful snake. And who can forget the right-bending tunnel that speeds underneath Loews Hotel! When asked what racing Monaco was like, Nelson Piquet answered that it was like riding your bike at full pace through your house.  The narrowness of the streets is sometimes seen as preclusive of good racing. But the fact that the circuit is the slowest on the current championship calendar means that the teams are on a far more equal footing here. So a driver needs exceptional skill to overtake a competitor here and keep his car in one piece. Not even a 50-second lead can guarantee you a win in the end, as Ayrton Senna famously discovered when he crashed out from the lead in 1988. There have been some refinements to the circuit over the years, but these have largely improved the course. Monaco is quite unique, and definitely deserves its place in the top ten.

The Monaco Street Circuit

The track winding around the harbour of Monte Carlo

The right hander at Mirabeau and the tight Loews Hairpin

3. Singapore

The relatively young circuit through the streets of island-nation Singapore is a great addition to the Formula One world championship. The circuit was the first to host a night event, and this certainly gives the race here a fantastic atmosphere. But the circuit itself is also brilliantly put together. The section around the pits is custom-made, so it has the feel of a permanent circuit. But before long, the cars are on the actual streets of Singapore, with all the challenges of bumps, tight corners, and unforgiving walls. But there also a few decent straights that provide both speed and good overtaking opportunities. Singapore’s magnificent skyline provides a magnificent backdrop to the circuit, too. All in all, the circuit has proven to be a great spectacle.

The Singapore Street Circuit

Jenson Button negotiating the streets of Singapore

2. Spa-Francorchamps (Spa, Belgium)

Everyone agrees that Spa is rightly one of the best circuits in the world, and many would put it at number one. This circuit has stood the test of time, from its days a massive 14 km circuit, to its current 7km configuration. The first hairpin at La Source is incredibly sharp, and stands in contrast to the fast downhill approach to the challenging sweeps of Eau Rouge—a corner that many drivers have rated (and continue to rate) as the most exciting to drive. The vertical g-forces as the cars hit the bottom of the hill and then the lateral g-forces through the left-right-left of Eau Rouge must be exhilarating to drive. The course heads out through the Ardennes Forest, and includes challenging undulations and high-speed corners. Gone, these days, is the old ‘Bus Stop’ chicane, replaced with a quick right-left back onto the pit straight, but the corner still retains the excitement of close-wheel racing that was evident at the Bus Stop. Spa is a great circuit, and should never be dropped from the world championship (as it was one year). Just like there are permanent positions on the UN Security Council, so Spa should have a permanent spot in the world championship.

Spa-Francorchamps

The run down to Eau Rouge

F1 cars speed through Eau Rouge

 

But Spa is not, in my opinion, the best circuit in the world. There is, I believe, one that outranks it just slightly. Which circuit is Number One?

 

Christianity turns 1980 years old

On the morning of 5 April, AD 33, women carrying spices to anoint the corpse of Jesus of Nazareth discovered that the tomb in which the corpse had been put was empty. One of them, Mary Magdalene, instantly concludes that the body had been stolen. Within hours, however, the story that Jesus had risen from death and walked out of the tomb alive was circulating among his disciples.

How is it that this story became Christianity’s ‘official’ explanation for what happened to Jesus?

The rise of Christianity is predicated on the claim of Jesus’ resurrection. If the resurrection were merely a fictional or mythological portrayal of ultimate vindication, then Jesus’ remains would still have occupied the tomb in which he’d been laid. If this were so, then the claim of resurrection could have been easily countered factually, for people could have gone to the tomb, opened it up, and seen the body. It would have been easy to produce the body, then, and prove the production of the myth. However, this never happened. Nor did anyone claim that the resurrection was actually a mythical claim. The resurrection claim seems to have been understood as actual—that is, the claim was that Jesus physically walked out of his tomb. And there appears to have been no evidence available to counter this claim. If there were, Christianity never would have gotten off the ground 1980 years ago. But it did!

So what was going on?

We’re left with a few possible scenarios. Possibly there was a hoax going on—the most successful in history, and for which the instigators were willing to be martyred. It just might be that Jesus’ followers, who had all abandoned him to save their own skins, now tried to save their own reputations by rehabilitating the reputation of their fallen master. In this way, they could claim to have followed the ultimate winner and not have been stigmatised for their association with him. But if so, this failed miserably, for they were stigmatised anyway, and they eventually did lose their own skins. So if the resurrection were a hoax, then we have to give the disciples full marks for commitment to fraud that backfired on them anyway, and superb pride at not being willing to admit it.

Alternatively, grave robbers took Jesus’ body. However, this would be a very odd thing, since bodies themselves were not valuable to grave robbers. Bodies rotted! It was, rather, the spices, linen and other trinkets buried with a body that were valuable. But there were no spices applied to Jesus’ corpse when he was buried. The Sabbath evening was approaching when Jesus’ corpse was removed from his cross, and he was hastily buried without the unguents to mask the smell of decomposition. The women who came to the tomb on the morning after the Sabbath were, in fact, coming to add those unguents to the body when they found the tomb empty. And the linen was found in the tomb. In other words, the only thing of value in the tomb, the linen, was not taken. Despite this oddity, the first explanation entertained by Mary Magdalene, one of those women, was that Jesus’ body had been taken. And yet, she changed her story. Why?

Again, we may have a hoax, in which case Mary certainly pulled the wool over everyone’s eyes, or managed to convince others to join her hoax. But this then raises the issues I mention above about the unlikelihood of hoax. Alternatively, perhaps someone was playing a cruel trick on the disciples by removing the body and giving the impression of a resurrection. Or perhaps Mary just ended up projecting wishful thinking into a grand story of resurrection. In either of those two cases, we have to conclude that they led to mass hallucination of groups of people all seeing the exact same hallucination of Jesus alive again, and all at the same time.

Alternatively, Jesus’ followers, most of whom had abandoned him before his execution, actually saw him alive again. Once more, they were all seeing the same thing. If there were only independent ‘sightings’ of a risen Jesus, then the evidence is weakened considerably. There would be little corroboration between the various sightings. But there were groups of people all seeing the same thing, including apparently about 500 people at one time. The empirical evidence pushed these people to conclude that, despite all expectations, this guy had actually come back to life. They all knew what ‘dead’ meant, and some of them had seen and touched Jesus’ dead body. But the empirical evidence that confronted them on 5 April, AD 33, and for weeks thereafter, forced them to conclude that Jesus had risen.

Now whether Jesus did come to life or not is a big call, and I can understand people’s doubt over that. However, the best explanation for the rise of Christianity is that Jesus’ followers honestly believed that he had risen from the dead. And there was no evidence available to counter that claim. His tomb was empty. Either the disciples got away with a huge call, or Jesus did walk out of his tomb alive.

Today, 5 April 2013, Christianity turns 1980 years old.