Posted on 04/09/2005 3:59:58 PM PDT by churchillbuff
I came to the courtroom early, before the proceedings began. The podium was adjustable, right? I lowered it. I'm five feet, seven and a half inches tall and the last thing I needed was to be standing up on the tips of my toes to reach the podium! When I came back later, for the proceedings, I looked in the back row and there, sitting all together, were my good friends, Moishe Rosen (founder of Jews for Jesus, and at the time, executive director), Tuvya Zaretsky, Susan Perlman and Russ Reed (three of Jews for Jesus' board members), plus my wife, my parents, and a lady from the Los Angeles Board of Airport Commissioners who accidentally sat in the wrong row! The thing that struck me was, when I looked back at the "Christian row" my parents were right in there. Whatever their feelings may be about my beliefs, they were there to support me. And I felt God's presence in that courtroom.
I wasn't too nervous until a couple of weeks before the trial, at which time I became pretty tense. I mean, for a while there, I was physically sick. I knew I was not the best. I don't generally lack confidence, but this was definitely the "big leagues." Despite all the commercial success I'd achieved as a lawyer, I knew that in the Supreme Court of the United States, I was basically just a kid. At age 30, I had to get special permission to defend the case. Yet, by the time I walked into the courtroom I felt great. I should have been a nervous wreck but I wasn't. People were praying for me and God came through.
The stairs I had to climb to get into that courtroom seemed like they were made for giants. And it felt like 14 flights, though I'm sure that's an exaggeration. I signed in with the clerk of the court, who, if I were Catholic, I would say he ought to be canonized. His job, in addition to the paperwork, is to create an air of friendliness which helps soothe last minute jitters. He tells you how it's going to be fun, you're going to enjoy it; everybody looks great--he helps everyone relax.
Next, I met the Marshal, who was decked out in a full-length tuxedo. Once the clerk helps the participants to relax, the Marshal underscores the formality of the whole procedure. He is the one who says "Oye, oye oye. The Supreme Court of the United States is now in session. All these gathered, draw nigh and speak your peace."
The room itself is awe inspiring. The ceilings in the Supreme Court of the United States are about 30-feet high, or at least they seem like it! They are painted very elaborately--lots of gold, with "Equal justice under the law" in big, fancy letters--and the most ostentatious Greco-Roman architecture imaginable. The justices come walking out in their big dark robes and slam down the gavel. I'm telling you my heart skipped a beat--it was very impressive. I was sitting about eight feet away from the justices, maybe ten. My opponent was just across a little podium from me; we were practically staring into each other's faces.
I knew God was present. It was clear. Even my parents, who don't believe like I do, said "the calmness was eerie." My wife (who does believe like I do) put it a little differently. She said she sensed the presence of the Spirit of God. My parents weren't sure what they sensed, but they knew it was something very much out of the ordinary.
The actual proceedings began with announcements of verdicts from previous cases. Then they started the day's docket. Our case was the first to be heard that day. I could hardly believe it when I heard them say, "Now we'll hear case #86-104: Board of Airport Commissioners et al. versus Jews for Jesus." While the justices were busy raking the opposing counsel over the coals, I was sitting with Barry Fisher (the civil rights attorney who assisted me) changing the strategy of our case. We saw where the judges were headed and we knew we'd have to reply to what was being said.
Half an hour later, I heard a voice call out, "Mr. Sekulow?" And I went up there. Me, a short Jewish guy from Brooklyn, New York, went before the justices of the Supreme Court of the United States to defend the constitutional right to stand in an airport and hand out tracts about Jesus!
I'd prepared my first sentence carefully, because I knew it might be my only opportunity to make a statement. I said: "Mr. Chief Justice, may it please the court, local governments have important interests to protect concerning the efficient operation of the airports under their jurisdiction; however, the facts in this case do not justify the repression of cherished first amendment freedoms based on a broad ban prohibiting all first amendment activities to take place." That's all I got to say. That was it. Because for the next half hour, they grilled me.
Justice Scalia and I got into a dialogue that reminded me of the teacher-student interactions from my days back in law school. He'd say "What if this and this?" and I'd have to answer him. There were times when I had to say, "Your honor, that's exactly what I did not say. You left out such and such." And so it went for the next thirty minutes of what was probably the most intense experience of my life.
I left the courtroom feeling like the Beatles must have felt leaving Shea Stadium. Or for those who might not know the Beatles, I felt like "Rocky" after the fight. If you don't know about Rocky, how about a prima ballerina after her first performance? Okay, so a ballerina I'm not, but I felt great! I knew God had brought me through that trial--and he'd brought me through much better than I'd dared to hope.
I had walked into the courtroom thinking about Jesus and how he overturned the moneychangers' tables at the Temple. Jesus was an activist; he stood up for what he knew was right. I drew strength from his example.
This case had already been decided in our favor by two lower circuit courts. The judges had ruled that people cannot be excluded from exercising first amendment rights in the airport.
I know it's a sidetrack, but the lawyer in me can't resist cautioning the reader against sympathizing too quickly with the airport commission, which is trying to restrict the distribution of religious literature. Whether or not one appreciates seeing individuals clad in "Jews for Jesus" T-shirts handing out literature at the airport is immaterial. If their rights of free speech are denied in the airport, who knows when and where you may eventually be denied your freedom of speech?
So now you know about my big day in the Supreme Court. And you've probably surmised that my interest in the case was from more than a purely legal perspective So how did a Jewish kid from New York get involved with Jesus? It happened like this....
I was born on June 10, 1956, in Brooklyn, but we moved to Long Island just after I was born and lived there until I was into my teens. My family attended a Reform synagogue in Long Island; it was not a fancy building, but I remember it had thick, plush drapes. It's funny, the things one remembers. I was very impressed with those drapes; I don't know, maybe because my friend's dad donated them. I liked Friday night services, which we attended about once a month, but Hebrew school, well, unfortunately, none of the kids in our class liked Hebrew school. We were not very well behaved. Sometimes I had the feeling the only reason the cantor didn't kick my friend and me out of the class (which he threatened to do) was because that was the friend whose dad donated the drapes!
"Religion" was not a big topic of discussion in our home. Sometimes my father referred to "The Supreme Being," but he usually reserved such references for the holidays. I didn't think much about God either. I do remember that when I was 13 years old, I'd exchange friendly insults with a Gentile friend of mine, a Catholic. We'd tease each other about our different backgrounds. We were never really serious about it, but I do remember wondering for a brief moment whether Shaun could possibly be right about Jesus. It seemed strange that such a thought would even enter my mind, but it left about as abruptly as it had come. I was pretty secure in my Jewish identity, which, as far as I knew included not believing in Jesus. Although we weren't "religious" we did many things to reinforce our culture and our heritage. I especially enjoyed the many Jewish celebrations: my bar mitzvah, for example.
That was a red letter day. Instead of my usual blue yarmulka with the white lining, I wore a white satin yarmulka with gold embroidery, and a tallis to match. Maybe my performance was leaning toward mediocre, but still, to be bar mitzvah signalled the end of Hebrew school and the thrill of "growing up."
Two years later, my family left New York and moved to Atlanta, Georgia. We joined a synagogue which I would describe as "very Reform." In contrast to our little Long Island synagogue, this one was quite elaborate. An ornate chandelier hung from the center of the beautiful domed ceiling; the ark was made of marble and gold, and we had gold velvet cushions on the seats to match.
As with the synagogue, our new home was also fancier than what we had in Long Island. It was a traditional two-story colonial brick house. Even with all the extra space, we still ended up congregating in the kitchen. It wasn't just for meals, although you'd better believe, my mother makes a great meat loaf. The kitchen was also the place for my parents, my two brothers, my sister and me to shmues and enjoy each other's company.
My high school grades were pretty much like my bar mitzvah Torah reading--mediocre. It wasn't dull wits or laziness, just a short supply of motivation. I actually enjoyed hard work. In fact, I went out and got a job just as soon as I could. By the time I was 17 years old, I was a night manager at a large department store called "Richway." I had my own set of keys and adult responsibilities. I always loved to work; it's just that I waited until college to start working at my grades.
My original plan was to attend a two-year college for some business education courses, and go straight back to work. After a short stint at the local junior college, I developed an appetite for learning and decided to enroll in a four-year school.
My desire to stay in Atlanta was probably the main reason I looked into Atlanta Baptist College (later known as Mercer University). I visited the school and found the friendly, small campus atmosphere appealing. To add to the appeal, the campus was only a five-minute drive from our house! "Dad," I asked, "Will it bother you if I go to a school that calls itself a Baptist college?" But my Dad is a pragmatic man.
"Baptist-shmaptist," he told me. "I'm glad you decided on a four-year college. Go ahead, get yourself a good education."
I enrolled in Atlanta Baptist College with a competitive determination to outstudy and outsmart "all the Christians." I did well in my pre-law studies, and attacked the mandatory Bible classes with a cynical confidence, certain that it would not be difficult to disprove "their" idea that Jesus was the Messiah.
I met a guy named Glenn Borders, whom I immediately labelled a "Jesus freak." Glenn took his religion seriously. There could be no doubt of that; he wore a big wooden cross around his neck! I knew of Jewish people who wore a rather large "chai" but I'd never seen anything the size of Glenn's cross. Despite his outward appearance, Glenn turned out to be a "regular guy." When we talked, I forgot about the big wood cross--maybe because Glenn wasn't trying to shove it down my throat. It turned out that Glenn played college sports, was active in the student government association, and he even managed to find time to be a good student. Glenn was the kind of person who was there to help if you needed him. He was a good friend. It was partly due to our friendship that my competitive attitude toward the Bible courses I was taking changed to an attitude of genuine curiosity.
Glenn suggested I read Isaiah 53. My mind was boggled by the description of the "suffering servant" who sounded so much like Jesus. I had to be misreading the text. I realized with relief that I was reading from a "King James" Bible, and after all, that's a "Christian" translation. So the first thing I said to Glenn after I read it was "Okay, now give me a real Bible." I grabbed the Jewish text, but the description seemed just as clear. Even though this caught my attention, I wasn't too worried. It still sounded like Jesus in the "Jewish Bible," but there had to be a logical explanation.
I began to research the passage and I started to look for rabbinic interpretations. That's when I began to worry. If I read the passage once, I'm sure I read it 500 times. I looked for as many traditional Jewish interpretations as I could find. A number of them, especially the earlier ones, described the text as a messianic prophecy. Other interpretations claimed the suffering servant was Isaiah himself, or even the nation of Israel, but those explanations were an embarrassment to me. The details in the text obviously don't add up to the prophet Isaiah or the nation of Israel. Did I ask the rabbis? No, I didn't ask the rabbis. I read what the rabbis had written over the years, beginning with ancient times, but frankly, I hadn't been too impressed with anyone I'd met lately. My last impression of what to expect from the Jewish religious establishment had been in a service where, when somebody sneezed the rabbi said, "God bless you." Then he said, "What am I saying? I don't believe in God."
I kept looking for a traditional Jewish explanation that would satisfy, but found none. The only plausible explanation seemed to be Jesus. My Christian friends were suggesting other passages for me to read, such as Daniel 9. As I read, my suspicion that Jesus might really be the Messiah was confirmed. That decision however, was strictly intellectual. I'd been struggling to resolve this question for about a year, and I was glad to have finally arrived at a decision.
How did I feel about believing that Jesus was the Messiah? Actually, I was half relieved. Once I'd gotten past the point of not wanting to know, once I took out my paper and pencil and began my lists of why Jesus was the Messiah on one side and why he wasn't on the other--I realized something. I had never felt the need for a Messiah before, but now that I was studying the prophecies and reading about what the Messiah was supposed to do, it sounded pretty good. I'd always thought my cultural Judaism was sufficient, but in the course of studying about the Messiah who would die as a sin bearer, I realized that I needed a Messiah to do that for me. When I concluded that Jesus was that Messiah, I was grateful. It didn't occur to me that I needed to do anything about it.
A few days later, one of my Christian friends invited me to hear Jews for Jesus' singing group, The Liberated Wailing Wall. You have no idea what a relief it was to see other Jews who believed that Jesus is the Messiah. Their presentation of "Jewish gospel music" and some of the things they said helped me realize that if I really believed in Jesus, I needed to make a commitment to him. At the end of the program, they sang a song called "I Am Not Ashamed of the Gospel" and they invited people who wanted to commit their life to Jesus to come up the aisle to meet with them at the front of the church. I responded to that invitation. It was February, 1976.
I wasn't concerned about how my parents would respond. It didn't enter my mind that they might be upset. After all, Jesus was a Jew. I knew that much. I didn't see what the big deal would be about my believing he was the Jewish Messiah. He was Jewish, I was Jewish, I didn't see that there was any reason for us not to believe in him.
As I walked up the aisle in response to the invitation, I got my first hint that Jews who believe in Jesus are sometimes ostracized by family and friends. A lady I'd never met said, "If you get kicked out of your home tonight, you can stay with us." I had a very good relationship with my parents. I didn't smoke, drink, use dope--I didn't give them grief and we were always very close. Did this lady know something that I didn't?
As it turned out, my parents did not react the way I know that some families of Jewish believers have. But after what this woman had said, frankly, I was a little scared. I wasn't prepared for that kind of a reaction, so I decided I wouldn't say anything at first; I'd wait a while. But my relationship with my parents was such that I just couldn't do that. I could not keep such a major decision from them. I tried, but I really couldn't. I got home at about 11 p.m. and went to sleep. I woke up at about two o'clock in the morning. I couldn't go back to sleep, so what did I do? I went and woke my father. I told him I'd decided Jesus was our Messiah. His response was, "You decided?" And of course, he was implying, "Who are you to decide?" but he didn't elaborate. He just shook his head sleepily and said, "We'll talk about it in the morning."
Well, morning came, and he didn't say a word about it. Neither did I. My parents knew I believed in Jesus; they knew I was getting literature from Jews for Jesus because I was living at home and they saw it. In fact, I know they read some of it out of curiosity. Sometimes I'd find it in the "reading room" (the bathroom)--not in the trash--just out where it was obvious that my dad had been looking over it. Since I was living under their roof, I felt if they didn't want to discuss it, I should leave well enough alone. Our relationship didn't change and I have always been grateful that whatever my parents might think of my beliefs, they love and respect me enough to prevent any disagreement from tearing us apart.
It wasn't until three years later that my parents and I actually discussed the subject of Jesus. I was in law school at Mercer at the time. Jews for Jesus ran a gospel statement in the Macon paper, "The Messiah has come and his name is Y'shua." My parents either came across the ad, or I showed it to them; I don't remember which. We discussed it; they didn't agree, but they were never hostile. They knew I was still Jewish; they knew I hadn't undergone any drastic personality changes--I wasn't involved with some strange cult.
I got married in 1978 on my birthday, June 10. I had just completed my first year of law school. I went on to graduate from law school in the top 5% of my class. I began my career at law as a tax prosecutor for the IRS. It was the best experience I could have had. In one sense it's a miserable job; prosecuting people for fraud and tax evasion never won anybody a popularity contest. I even had a few death threats from time to time. What made it worthwhile was the fact that I was trying as many as twelve cases per week. It was phenomenal. That kind of experience can really launch a person into a terrific career--if the person wins their cases, which I did. I stayed with the IRS for about eighteen months, then my name came up for a transfer which I didn't want to take.
At that point, I figured, "If I'm going to set up private practice, now is the time to do it." So I rented space with a friend from law school. Our monthly overhead was about $1600. I thought that was a fortune! I didn't have a client, not one, but I did have some good contacts. In less than eight months, my firm was up to nine lawyers, two full- time CPAs and three para-legals. We were the fastest growing firm in Atlanta. How did we do it? We took on some pretty controversial cases and won. We were known as very tough litigators and we developed a rapport and a good client base. When people were in trouble, they went to Sekulow and Roth.
Stuart Roth and I could hardly believe that our clients were paying us these $25,000 and $35,000 retainers, and here we were just 26 years old. But despite the fact that we were very young, when clients walked out of our office, they knew we were taking care of them.
Both my family and business life were flourishing. My wife and I had a son. In addition to the law practice, I began a real estate development firm which grossed over $20 million after the first year.
I kept in touch with Jews for Jesus and became a member of their board of directors. Business continued to flourish and Pam and I had another son. Yet there was something else I wanted to do. I thought more and more about using my legal skills to serve God. In 1986 I became the Jews for Jesus General Legal Counsel. That is how I happened to be defending a case before the Supreme Court of the United States, as described at the beginning of my story.
Incidentally, the verdict on that case was unanimous. The decisions of the lower circuit courts were upheld, and the Supreme Court declared the airport's resolution to curtail first amendment rights unconstitutional. Since the trial is over, however, I can devote myself to C.A.S.E: Christian Advocates Serving Evangelism. That is what we've named the new organization which will be defending the legal rights of individuals and organizations who are telling the gospel--specifically in issues relating to access, as in parks, college campuses, street corners, and of course, airports. We will work with other groups to ensure that the access to first amendment rights remains protected. It's pretty scary to think that the day could come when people might be prohibited from expressing their beliefs in a public forum. The public, of course, has the right to refuse the literature. If people are annoyed that there are Jews (and others) who believe in Jesus, then so be it. But there are people who are looking for God, for answers to the question of how to know him. They need to hear the good news about the Messiah, and we must protect our right to tell them.
As it happens, I agree on this point.
The problem with believing that Jesus existed but was not the Messiah is that, if he was real, he obviously had followers who believed he was the Messiah. The question then is why did they believe that?
Josephus mentions several men from that era who were thought by some to have been the Messiah. All of them led rebellions of some sort against the Romans. When their rebellions failed and they were killed, they were judged in retrospect not to have been the Messiah.
As far as I know, there is no historical record of a rebellion led by a Jesus of Nazareth. What could a 30-something man like Jesus have done to make people believe he was the Messiah? His sermons as recorded in the Gospels are eloquent but not earthshakingly profound. Do you think he really performed the miracles (mostly exorcisms) he is credited with in the Gospels? Do you think he walked on water?
The funny thing about it is that I wasn't even talking about money. I meant spiritually and academically. I was talking about as such a tiny group, we have managed to hang in there and keep our faith alive in the face of so many that wish to see it destroyed. But maybe that's because we value academics in our spirituality. No decent Jew would ever be caught nodding their head in a slavish manner without having read and studied for themselves.
Yeah, trying to love us and our faith out of existence.
Aren't you glad that Christians are truly friends of Israel?
Can't do it without conditions and strings attatched, can you?
And we won't cease to protect ourselves.
He may have performed healings, as did other itinerant charismatic preachers of the time. The other miracle stories were late attributions.
What could a 30-something man like Jesus have done to make people believe he was the Messiah?
In addition to his more customary public preaching, he taught an apocalyptic message which was reserved for his small inner coterie of followers. This apocalyptic appears to be related to Essene teachings. In Jesus's messianic vision, an army of men would not be needed ("my kingdom is not of this world"), because the battle would be fought by an army of angels.
So it will be at the close of the age. The angels will come out and separate the evil from the righteous,
and throw them into the furnace of fire; there men will weep and gnash their teeth. (Matthew 13:49-50)
For the Son of man is to come with his angels in the glory of his Father, and then he will repay every man for what he has done.
Truly, I say to you, there are some standing here who will not taste death before they see the Son of man coming in his kingdom. (Matthew 16:27-28)
For as the lightning comes from the east and shines as far as the west, so will be the coming of the Son of man. Wherever the body is, there the eagles will be gathered together.
"Immediately after the tribulation of those days the sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light, and the stars will fall from heaven, and the powers of the heavens will be shaken;
then will appear the sign of the Son of man in heaven, and then all the tribes of the earth will mourn, and they will see the Son of man coming on the clouds of heaven with power and great glory;
and he will send out his angels with a loud trumpet call, and they will gather his elect from the four winds, from one end of heaven to the other.(Matthew 24:27-31)
This was a mystical vision of messianic triumph, with the Messianic Age coinciding with the End of Days. Jesus seemed to have arranged his last days to fulfil his interpretation of prophecy (his arrival in Jerusalem, for example). It is possible that he even arranged his own betrayal, entrusting Judas with the duty to report his whereabouts to the Romans.
Jesus answered, "It is he to whom I shall give this morsel when I have dipped it." So when he had dipped the morsel, he gave it to Judas, the son of Simon Iscariot. Then after the morsel, Satan entered into him. Jesus said to him, "What you are going to do, do quickly." (John 13:26-27)
I think that their expectation was that, at the moment of tribulation, when he was crucified, an army of angels would appear, and bring about the end of the age. Given the actions of the apostles, it appears their expectation was that this army of angels would rescue Jesus before or immediately upon his death. When he actually died,
My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?
his apostles scattered.
It is equally possible to make a case that his death was anticipated, and that he would be resurrected "very soon" to lead the angelic army.
I tell you I shall not drink again of this fruit of the vine until that day when I drink it new with you in my Father's kingdom...
Then Jesus said to them, "You will all fall away because of me this night; for it is written, `I will strike the shepherd, and the sheep of the flock will be scattered.'
But after I am raised up, I will go before you to Galilee." (Matthew 26:29,31-32)
I think the prior is more likely, and that his actual death led to a reappraisal of their expectation. In any event, given the mystical nature of their expectations, it is not surprising that his core of followers had visions of him alive ('resurrected')
But he, full of the Holy Spirit, gazed into heaven and saw the glory of God, and Jesus standing at the right hand of God;
and he said, "Behold, I see the heavens opened, and the Son of man standing at the right hand of God." (Acts 7:55-56)
Whether they thought it would happen at the moment of his death, or three days later, when the expected messianic moment didn't come, they undoubtedly were discouraged and questioned what went wrong. My guess is that at some point, one of the apostles had either a vision of Jesus resurrected, or came in some other way to the belief that Jesus was in fact alive and would return soon to finish what he had begun. And the rest is history.
I don't read any of your quotes as supporting Christian belief. I suppose you might find what you expect to find when you read them. However, it is problematic to pull out a few scattered verses from a work as voluminous as the Talmud as somehow providing support for Christian belief. Do you generally consider the Talmud to be an authoritative source for the interpretation of scripture?
The only person who would suggest that the views of the sages were unanimous would be someone completely unfamiliar with the Talmud. Indeed, the Talmud largely consists of the record of disputes among the sages regarding matters of interpretation and halakhah.
"It is possible that he even arranged his own betrayal..."
This view is consistent with Christian theology. Jesus was a willing participant in a plan devised and executed by His Father; therefore, everything that happened was part of that plan. Jesus facilitated the plan while He was here.
If one holds this view, then one cannot say that somehow the plan was frustrated by what occurred afterward. The Christian teaching is that Jesus returned to heaven to sit at the right hand of the Father until the time appointed for Him to return to assume the throne of His earthly father David.
You have presented a very plausible picture of a possible Jesus. However, couldn't all this have been a fictional story? We know from the Dead Sea Scrolls that the Essenes were producing writings that might be called fictional, symbolic, theoretical or speculative. Couldn't the Jesus story have originated that way?
As I have said, my reasons for believing it is fictional are many. There is never any year mentioned for the crucifixion - they mention the month and day, but not the year. The thousands of people who meet Jesus in the Gospels are missing from the subsequent books of the NT.
There is no definite connection between any writings in the New Testament and the people who actually knew Jesus. Most scholars believe that Mark is the oldest gospel. It was not written in Judea and not written by someone who witnessed Jesus. It cannot be proven that "Matthew" was written by an apostle and, in fact, it seems to have been largely copied from Mark. "John" was probably written too late to have possibly been written by an apostle. The epistles of Peter and James do not seem to reflect any personal experience with Jesus. These were probably not even written by Peter and James.
Paul spends 15 days with Peter and learns everything there is to know about Jesus. How is that possible?
No writings by the original Jerusalem Nazarenes were preserved. No sayings of Jesus were preserved in Aramaic. Supposedly, there was once a Hebrew or Aramaic Gospel of Matthew, but this was not preserved. Paul can verify the existence of only two of the supposed twelve apostles.
There is no undisputed reference to Jesus outside the New Testament until the Second Century.
If you believe Jesus was an actual person, where is the evidence?
Another reason to disbelieve the Gospels. In the Gospels, the rabbis are portrayed as monolithic.
I agree that it is possible. I do, however, think it is more likely that there was a real (albeit obscure) person around whom the later stories cohered. I think the best objective evidence of an historical Jesus are the brief mentions of him and of his brother by Josephus (Antiquities Book 18, Ch. 3 and Book 20, Ch. 9). While these passages were certainly 'enhanced' by later interpolations, there is a scholarly consensus that there is an original core mention of them there. Josephus also elsewhere mentions a 'Saulus' who is likely the 'Paul' of the Christian scriptures. Antiquities was completed in the early 90s C.E. (On a side note, there are a number of interesting parallels between the writings of Josephus, and the work of Luke-Acts in the Christian bible).
I further agree that the writers of the Christian scriptures were relying upon second and third-hand accounts and hagiographical material rather than original, first-hand information. Additionally, the selection of these particular accounts as 'canonical' took place hundreds of years later, and the works chosen were selected out of the hundreds of possibilities because they advanced certain theological viewpoints.
Josephus' writings might have been a good source if they were not at least partly forgeries.
While these passages were certainly 'enhanced' by later interpolations, there is a scholarly consensus that there is an original core mention of them there.
Perhaps. Perhaps not. But once an original source is altered, it has little value as evidence.
And even the "enhanced" Josephus does not tell us the year the crucifixion occurred. How is it that NO ONE remembered that? (My belief is that there is no year given for the resurrection because it was merely a symbolic event that was supposed to occur every spring, like the resurrections of the various pagan fertility gods around Easter time.)
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