So what hope for the future now?
In the Western world, the only discipline of thought we have that looks forward realistically with any degree of composure to a better world seems to be the philosophy of natural science with its theory of evolution. And it does not matter whether the mechanism is natural selection or survival of the fittest, or 1001 acts of creation along the way, it is still evolution. But if one embraces the hope that something better is destined to evolve from the present situation, it means that Christ, the Prince of Peace, only took us along the next stage of man’s journey to the promised land. Much more remains to be done. And this is an uncomfortable message for those with traditional beliefs.
When you compare Jesus’ teaching with that of the prophets, he is incomparable. Their message was fully understood in their day. So well understood and so resented, that many of them were killed; yet Zechariah is almost unintelligible to us today. In contrast the words of Jesus still have a blistering clarity. We may dislike what he said, but no-one can mistake his meaning. He must have healed many people; it is absurd to imagine the Gospels would have given his healings such prominence if they were all bogus. The detail and realism of the healing of the blind man who washed in the pool of Siloam defies invention; and the insolence of the man’s answers to the Pharisees is almost mischievous in its humour. That was not invented. Yet it does Jesus no homage to say he was right about everything, and what he said cannot be improved upon. It is said of Isaac Newton that his Principia, his theory of gravitation, was the greatest act of scientific creative thought there has ever been; as it reads on the plinth of his statue, “qui genus humanum ingenio superavit”. But it does no credit to Newton to dispute that Einstein’s field theory is a better approximation to the truth than Newton’s force theory of gravitation. Similarly it does no credit to Jesus to fail to recognise that the messianic prophesies demanded that as Messiah he would put everything right. Surely he was shrewd enough to see that he could hardly claim to be the Messiah, and deny this demand; yet he must not allow himself to be trapped by it? His solution was the most extraordinary thing he ever did.
Of course he was familiar with the opinions current in his day. The Day of Judgement features frequently in the prophets; with them it meant that widows and orphans would receive equity, but the fat sheep who elbowed others out of the way would get their deserts. Jesus modified it; saying that if two women were grinding at the mill, one would be taken and the other left. Most of the Sermon on the Mount, I understand, was current thought in Middle Eastern sects; what Jesus did was to give it his incomparable authority. But the idea of eating a god’s flesh to take on his spirit did not appear in the prophets. It came from the worship of Isis and Mithras, and further back from primitive tribal warfare. If you ate the flesh of your enemy or your god, you acquired his strength. Yet Jesus adopted this as the very core of his message. “In truth, in very truth I tell you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood you can have no life in you. Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood possesses eternal life, and I will raise him up at the last day. My flesh is real food; my blood is real drink. Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood dwells continually in me and I dwell in him”: John ch.6 v.53. I have quoted at length to show it was no idle remark; he repeated over and over again this most provocative idea. Many of his hearers were so disgusted when they heard it, that they departed, saying it was more than they could stomach. This was not invention either. No apologist writing a book, and trying to convince his readers that its hero was the Messiah, would invent a symbolism calculated to revolt them.
To an extent Jesus appears to have been caught by the prophesy that the Messiah would put everything right. He did say he would draw all men to himself, when he was lifted up from the earth. Now the cross moves many to tears; Isaac Watts’ hymn “When I survey the wondrous cross” is sublime; but manifestly the cross only draws a small fraction of mankind to himself.