won’t make you eat too many vegetables.
But right about the time you turn twelve, you start to realize that your parents don’t know everything because…well, you do. They no longer provide the total security they once could. But you still long for it. So, you imagine an invisible super-parent who can deliver absolute security. Obey his rules and you won’t catch hell. It’s just like home.
Given this primal wish, it’s not surprising that a successful religion would be based on the story of a fatherly God sending his son to console and protect the rest of his needy children. If we obey him, we get an eternity on a nice, comfy cloud. You might not be crazy about learning the harp, but it’s a lot better than just dying and no longer existing, which would kind of suck. And so, the ambitious, innovative West came up with exactly what it wanted: A myth that told them how to attain eternal life.
Joseph Campbell famously listed the four functions of a myth: a mystical function (to explore the unknown), a cosmological function (to explain the universe), a sociological function (to establish values to live by), and a psychological function (the so-called “hero’s journey” that guides the inner development of every heroic figure from Gilgamesh to Bilbo Baggins). I think it’s this last function that made Christianity such a hit.
The Greatest Story Ever Sold
A long time ago, in a land far away, a child was born. He was the son of a god and a mortal woman, and he used his miraculous powers to do good and to serve others. Tragically, he was betrayed and was killed by his enemies. But ultimately he rose from death and rejoined his father in heaven. That child, of course, was Hercules.
Oh…wait a sec. That’s probably not where you thought I was going. Sure, that was Herc’s basic bio. But the person I’m talking about was born to a virgin, under a star, and stood for truth, peace, and brotherhood. He launched a following known as The Way, and his supporters called him the Good Shepherd. When he died, he was placed in a rock tomb. He ultimately ascended to heaven while, back on earth, his disciples waited for a day of judgment when those who believed in him would find paradise. People were baptized in his name and his birth was celebrated every December 25 th . Clearly, the man in question was Mithras.
Wa…huh? Okay, what’s going on?
The Messiah Motif
We’ve come face-to-face with something religious historians call the “Messiah Motif.” It’s a storyline most of us were told was unique to Christianity—the Gospel (meaning “good news”) of Jesus Christ. As it turns out, his biography was a template that had been applied to dozens of ancient heroes, real and imagined, long before the Wise Men from the East started gift shopping.
Just as American politicians frequently use the rags-to-riches story to come off like deserving heroes, the tale of a heaven-sent liberator who conquered death and vowed to return with a big dose of divine justice was told about many great figures, historical and fictional. And they each had rabid followers who were determined to immortalize their guru.
I was taught that Jesus was the only one to pull this off. But a look at several pagan prequels makes it clear that the basic plot was routine. The similarities between these legends may be superficial, or just coincidence. They don’t necessarily mean pagan myths inspired the Jesus tale. But they do show that, what’s usually sold as a one-of-a-kind drama was, in fact, a familiar story arc. To wit:
Osiris
In ancient Egypt, Osiris was the god of death, fertility, and resurrection. He was lord of the Underworld, where the souls of the dead were judged. Legend says he was chopped up into pieces by his sinister brother, Set, but that the good chunks were gathered and brought back to life by his wife, Isis—who was also his sister.
The Osiris story goes back to at least 2,500 B.C. and, around 500 B.C., the Greek
But right about the time you turn twelve, you start to realize that your parents don’t know everything because…well, you do. They no longer provide the total security they once could. But you still long for it. So, you imagine an invisible super-parent who can deliver absolute security. Obey his rules and you won’t catch hell. It’s just like home.
Given this primal wish, it’s not surprising that a successful religion would be based on the story of a fatherly God sending his son to console and protect the rest of his needy children. If we obey him, we get an eternity on a nice, comfy cloud. You might not be crazy about learning the harp, but it’s a lot better than just dying and no longer existing, which would kind of suck. And so, the ambitious, innovative West came up with exactly what it wanted: A myth that told them how to attain eternal life.
Joseph Campbell famously listed the four functions of a myth: a mystical function (to explore the unknown), a cosmological function (to explain the universe), a sociological function (to establish values to live by), and a psychological function (the so-called “hero’s journey” that guides the inner development of every heroic figure from Gilgamesh to Bilbo Baggins). I think it’s this last function that made Christianity such a hit.
The Greatest Story Ever Sold
A long time ago, in a land far away, a child was born. He was the son of a god and a mortal woman, and he used his miraculous powers to do good and to serve others. Tragically, he was betrayed and was killed by his enemies. But ultimately he rose from death and rejoined his father in heaven. That child, of course, was Hercules.
Oh…wait a sec. That’s probably not where you thought I was going. Sure, that was Herc’s basic bio. But the person I’m talking about was born to a virgin, under a star, and stood for truth, peace, and brotherhood. He launched a following known as The Way, and his supporters called him the Good Shepherd. When he died, he was placed in a rock tomb. He ultimately ascended to heaven while, back on earth, his disciples waited for a day of judgment when those who believed in him would find paradise. People were baptized in his name and his birth was celebrated every December 25 th . Clearly, the man in question was Mithras.
Wa…huh? Okay, what’s going on?
The Messiah Motif
We’ve come face-to-face with something religious historians call the “Messiah Motif.” It’s a storyline most of us were told was unique to Christianity—the Gospel (meaning “good news”) of Jesus Christ. As it turns out, his biography was a template that had been applied to dozens of ancient heroes, real and imagined, long before the Wise Men from the East started gift shopping.
Just as American politicians frequently use the rags-to-riches story to come off like deserving heroes, the tale of a heaven-sent liberator who conquered death and vowed to return with a big dose of divine justice was told about many great figures, historical and fictional. And they each had rabid followers who were determined to immortalize their guru.
I was taught that Jesus was the only one to pull this off. But a look at several pagan prequels makes it clear that the basic plot was routine. The similarities between these legends may be superficial, or just coincidence. They don’t necessarily mean pagan myths inspired the Jesus tale. But they do show that, what’s usually sold as a one-of-a-kind drama was, in fact, a familiar story arc. To wit:
Osiris
In ancient Egypt, Osiris was the god of death, fertility, and resurrection. He was lord of the Underworld, where the souls of the dead were judged. Legend says he was chopped up into pieces by his sinister brother, Set, but that the good chunks were gathered and brought back to life by his wife, Isis—who was also his sister.
The Osiris story goes back to at least 2,500 B.C. and, around 500 B.C., the Greek
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