Not unless you think the Jewish calumny that he was the bastard child of Mary and a Roman soldier.
I don’t think so, but it’s amazing how many “religious” people of his day did. He “carried on” with saint and sinner alike and welcomed St. Dismas on the Cross. I’ve loved him since I could pronounce his name which, according to my mother, was at a year and a half. By age 2, I was the “hall monitor” for getting to Church on Sundays no matter how late they’d stayed out or up on Saturday night. I’ve never known a time when he was not my savior, and I hope I don’t live so long as to forget that he is.