What Do You Do With a Chocolate Jesus? Read Free Page A

empire of Persia overtook Babylon and everyone else in sight. With bigger fish to fry elsewhere, the Persians allowed Israelite leaders to return to Jerusalem and run their own affairs, sort of. The Persians remained in charge.
    While it was nice that the Jews were back home and could rebuild their Temple, it wasn’t like the good old days of David and Solomon. The Israelites wanted to rule themselves, and Yahweh wasn’t being as helpful as he used to be. No ten plagues or anything cool like that. So, the people waited and prayed for a bold new leader—some courageous warrior prince who would kick their conquerors out and set up an independent Jewish kingdom.
    Unfortunately, around 332 B.C., a Greek commander named Alexander, who by all accounts was pretty great, stormed in and took over. He left behind a series of oppressive generals who tried to force modern culture down the throats of the locals. In the process, the generals abused their subjects and violated the Temple. This got everyone really cheesed off.
    For a brief time, a Jewish clan called the Maccabees expelled these conquerors, and established a tiny independent state around Jerusalem. But in 63 B.C., the Romans expanded their growing republic into Judea and vicinity, and they were so well organized that it was going to take a miracle to get rid of them. More than ever, Yahweh’s people wanted a deliverer. A heaven-sent redeemer. A messiah.
    By the end of the first century B.C., half the families in Judea were hoping that one of their sons would grow up to become this messiah—a lofty goal even for Jewish mothers. A dentist with a nice practice wouldn’t do. They needed something special. A game changer. And boy-howdy, did they get one.
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    This grand saga leads us, of course, to the subject at hand: the story of Jesus Christ as enshrined by the New Testament, and the vast religion it spawned. It’s shaped our history, reframed the way we think, and morphed our pop image of God from a sage old man in the sky to an invisible father whose son was a tall, fair-haired, white guy. I’m sure there were a lot of those knocking around first century Palestine.
    But before we talk messiahs, we need to lay the groundwork for why any of this was necessary. Why all the pining for a savior? What was the appeal of this cosmic superstar approach to setting things straight?
    It begins with a simple fact. Man is the only creature that knows he’s going to die. Death is a spooky prospect given how much we know about it (that would be nothing) and what a raw deal it seems to be after enduring the demolition derby we call life. Humans want a better payoff.
    Enter religion. Religion is based on what we want. It’s about faith, belief, and hope. Its appeal is emotional and, if something has emotional appeal, we’ll buy it. This gives it a huge advantage over something like science. Science tells us we’re pond scum that evolved an opposable thumb. Religion says we’re God’s top accomplishment. This may make him an underachiever, but it’s reassuring to think the creator of the universe is personally interested in my health, my career, and my right to own guns.
    What’s more, western religion traffics in the idea of God as a caring parent. Its popularity, I believe, is based on our wish to recapture the most perfect moment in life—you know, the one when you were about three years old and your mom held you snugly in her arms and said, “It’s all right. It’s going to be all right.” It’s the ultimate experience of love, security, comfort, and bliss. It’s precisely what people seek from an anthropomorphic deity. And the reason is not complicated.
    Humans depend upon their parents for longer than any other animal and, when you’re a kid, parents are very god-like. They’re bigger than you, they’re all-powerful, and they seem to know everything. You also have a covenant with them: If you obey their rules, they’ll give you love and