“If the mass of historical evidence (or even the lack of it) determines that Jesus was not a manifestation of the God of Everything, then he must assume his rightful place in the pantheon of demigods that populate mythology.
“In the case of Jesus of Nazareth, the sole historical authority is contained within the four Gospels: Mark, Luke, Matthew and John. But the burning historical question remains, Who really wrote these texts? Remember, Mark’s Gospel is not titled, “The Gospel
of
Mark” whoever this ‘Mark’ might have actually been; rather it is entitled, “The Gospel
According to
Mark. It is admittedly a short and simple document. It knows nothing of the Virgin Birth, nothing of the Sermon on the Mount, and it does not record what we have come to call ‘The Lord’s Prayer’. Historians can find no evidence that this document even existed until 70 AD at the earliest, and it is not discussed in any written reference before the year 160 AD. If the stories it reports were indeed handed down by word of mouth for even seventy years after the death of Jesus, then I think it is safe to assume that they might well have been corrupted or enhanced in the telling. Imagine if we were to try to write an account of Abraham Lincoln’s life—or even his last night on earth—without a single written account of the true events of his life. It would be impossible to maintain any degree whatsoever of authenticity. Such is the case in the Gospel
According to
Mark. Yet, there is further historical evidence that the author of this text drew heavily from an even earlier document, one that historians now refer to as the ‘Old Mark’. This document has been lost to the Ages. Where did it go? Why was it not preserved by the early Church? Nobody really seems to have an answer to such questions, but what we do know is that the document that has anchored the synoptic Gospels for nearly two thousand years is, in essence a ‘copy’ and an ‘embellishment’.
“Which brings me to the matter of the second and third synoptic Gospels: The Gospel
According to
Luke, and The Gospel
According to
Matthew. Each of these accounts are a bit more detailed than that of Mark, although it is apparent to most scholars that each of the authors drew heavily on Mark’s story. In essence, both Gospels, Luke and Matthew, are but enlargements of the Gospel According to Mark. Luke’s Gospel is best dated at 110 AD. Mathew’s Gospel is dated no earlier that 130 AD. Neither of these books is even mentioned in written history until 190 AD. Obviously, it can be supposed that the hearsay evidence involved in composing both books could be significant, if not overwhelming. In short, both may be rich in mythology, but neither have relevance as historical documents.
“The Gospel According to John is significantly different than the three synoptic gospels. In John’s book, ca. 140 to 170 AD, we see a very different Jesus than in the previous three gospels. In fact, John’s Jesus seems to behave very differently than the Jesus portrayed by Mark, Luke and Matthew. John’s book is derived mostly from Greek philosophy merged with early Christian mysticism, and names Jesus not as a man (The Gospel According to Mark); nor as a demigod (The Gospels According to Luke and to Matthew), but as God Himself!”
“I had no idea you were so anti-Christian,” I tell Sir Harold.
“I’m not…necessarily,” he says. “For me, the argument—or debate—is a wholly empirical one.”
“Then tell me more,” I invite the historical scholar.
“The simple fact is this: Whether or not Jesus Christ ever existed is a point open to serious scholarly question. There is just no ‘physical’ evidence that he did live, so the matter is left to ‘faith’, which is always blind. Nor is there much evidence that the events described in the four Gospels actually took place. These stories might well be contrivances of writers employing the same techniques that authors today employ: the use of metaphor, and hyperbole, and symbolism, and fantasy!”
“Why was I never told such things in catechism class? Or in school?”
“The perpetration of this myth is very important to those who benefit most from it in our time,” Sir Harold instructs me.
“But what about the Passion we just witnessed? Is it not a worthy story?”
“A worthy story? No doubt it is a worthy story. But nothing more…”
“I don’t know, Sir Harold. If what you are saying is true, then the story of Jesus, his crucifixion, his resurrection and his status as the Savior of humanity is perhaps the greatest hoax ever perpetrated on mankind.”
“And that, Fizzy Oceans, may be its more lasting legacy…”
“It’s not that I’m pleading Christianity’s case, Sir Harold. It’s just that what you are saying goes against everything I’ve been told my entire life.”
“The Jesus of the Gospels is a combination of impossible elements, Fizzy. If there was a man named Yeshua who lived in Palestine nineteen centuries ago, a man who was loved and admired by the common people, a man who preached as a rabbi in the Temple and who angered the political oligarchs of the time, a man who met a violent death for his deeds as a dissident, then why was not one word written about him and his actions in the time of his life? Or even shortly after his death? No, it is far more likely that the Jesus the world has come to know and worship was an invention of some very creative authors, a church that had its own agenda (mostly economic), and the willingness of people to believe a fantastic (and undocumented) tale to ensure their own salvation. It’s easy to sell a martyr, Fizzy. It has happened in every Age, including our own. Once the people of the world have learned that the Christ of the Gospels is but a myth, and that Christianity as we now know it is wholly untrue, then they will (grudgingly) turn their attention from the religious mythology of the past to the vital problems of the present, and begin trying to solve those problems for the betterment of today’s society.”
“And that, Sir Harold, is called Secular Humanism!”
Touché, Fizzy Oceans!
After many requests, I have finally been given an opportunity to meet with the Dalai Lama to conduct an interview with His Holiness. I must say that I am expecting an encounter far more relaxing than my two previous ones in this ongoing and thorough effort to research and document the world’s religions. Because crossing the Sinai Dessert and spending forty years with Moses and the Hebrews (while not aging a day, I might add), and then watching the trial and brutal crucifixion of Jesus, has left me not only emotionally exhausted, but also disenchanted. It is said that the truth shall set one free, but in my case, spying through my proverbial peephole at history, I do not feel any freer; I feel even more alone in a universe that is teaming with other people and rich almost beyond comprehension with their stories and beliefs. Maybe His Holiness can offer me insight—or, if not that, at least a little even-tempered perspective. So off I go!
Whoosh…
Arriving as a novice at the Dharamshala, India residence of Jetsun Jamphel Ngawang Lobsang Yeshe Tenzin Gyatso, the fourteenth Dalai Lama, I am greeted by the emulation of His Holiness, his hands and fingers pressed together in front of his face. He is wearing a red robe with a yellow sash. The room in which we are to meet is neither large nor small. The floor is made of dark hardwood, and a large doorway opens onto a garden in full bloom. On one wall is a sizeable and very ornate altar with a statue of the Buddha in meditation resting upon it. Encircling the head of the icon is an intricate and colorful ceramic aura. The architecture is classical, with pillars and trusses and archways. A single floor-to-ceiling enclosed bookcase contains a collection of ancient artifacts—mostly scrolls. The walls and the ceiling are both painted rosy pink, and a luxurious tapestry hangs from the center of the ceiling. Near the altar is the Dalai Lama’s throne, as well as a chair that has obviously been placed there for me.
“It is an honor to finally meet you, Your Holiness,” I say with a curtsy.
“I regret that you have had to wait so long for our conversation,” he says. “But my position is very demanding. I am head of Tibet’s government-in-exile, but of course my spiritual duties and obligations extend far beyond one who is a Head of State. My cause is largely spiritual, you understand.”
“I haven’t minded waiting,” I tell him. “I’ve used the time to great advantage, and my research is quite far along now.”
His Holiness smiles and says, “Yes, I am aware of your recent travels. How very fascinating for you!”
“Fascinating, yes. Though I’m afraid I have reached no conclusion.”
“This is not a worry, Fizzy Oceans. Life is a journey, and learning is a process. Conclusions necessarily bring an end to the process of learning, and it is the process itself that has real value.”
“Well put, Your Holiness,” I concur.
He waves off the compliment as he turns to sit upon his throne. “Just part of my job,” he laughs. Then he turns to me and says, “Please take a seat. Make yourself comfortable in my home. May I offer you a cup of tea? It’s really very good.”
I accept his gesture of hospitality and settle in for what I hope will be a productive interview with this esteemed spiritual leader.
During our initial exchange I ask the Dalai Lama to tell me a little about his personal history and I learn that he was the fifth of seven surviving children to a farming family in the village of Taktster. He was proclaimed the
tulku
or rebirth of the thirteenth Dalai Lama at the age of two. In 1950, the army of the People's Republic of China invaded Tibet. One month later, on November 17, he was enthroned formally as Dalai Lama: at the age of fifteen, he became the region’s most important spiritual leader and political ruler.
In 1951, the Chinese military pressured the Dalai Lama to ratify a seventeen-point agreement that permitted the People's Republic of China to take control of Tibet. He fled through the mountains to India soon after the failed uprising in 1959, which effectively ensured the collapse of the Tibetan Resistance Movement.
“The Chinese government regarded me as the symbol of an outmoded theocratic system. Along with eighty thousand others that followed me into exile in India, I have striven all these years to preserve traditional Tibetan education and culture,” he relates. His eyes are far away with the memories of now distant events. “You know, we still maintain traditional Tibetan schools here in Dharamshala,” he says proudly.
Of course the story of the Dalai Lama is certainly more enigmatic than other Heads of State. The very method by which his selection as the fourteenth Dalai Lama was made is fascinating, and indeed it raises certain questions about the psychic proclivities of Tibetans in general. At any rate, nobleness seems to have run in the Döndrub family.
“I was born into a farming and horse trading family in the small hamlet of Taktster, on the eastern border of the former Tibetan region of Amdo, which was then already incorporated into the Chinese province of Qinghai. I was one of seven children to survive childhood. The eldest was my sister Tsering Dolma, who was eighteen years older than I. My eldest brother, Thupten Jigme Norbu, was recognized at the age of eight as the reincarnation of the high Lama Takster Rinpoche. My sister, Jetsun Pema, who is affiliated with the Tibetan Youth Congress and Tibetan Women’s Association, portrayed our mother in the 1997 Hollywood film
Seven Years in Tibet.
Imagine that!” he muses. “My sister is a Hollywood starlet!” He laughs heartily at the absurdity of his own joke. I smile too.
“Can you tell me a little about the tradition of the Dalai Lama?” I ask him.
His Holiness settles back in his adorned chair as he relates, “Tibetans traditionally believe Dalai Lamas to be the reincarnation of their predecessors, each of whom is believed to be a human emanation of the bodhisattva Avalokitesvara. A search party was sent to locate the new incarnation when I was about two years old. It is said that, among other omens, the head of the embalmed body of the previous Dalai Lama, at first facing southeast, mysteriously turned to face northeast, indicating the direction in which his successor would be found. The Regent, Reting Rinpoche, shortly afterwards had a vision at the sacred lake of Lhamo La-tso indicating that Amdo was the region in which to search—and specifically a one-story house with distinctive guttering and tiling. After an extensive search, the Thondup house, with its features resembling those in Reting’s vision, was finally found.
“And I was presented with various relics, including toys, some of which had belonged to the thirteenth Dalai Lama, and some of which had not. Apparently, I correctly identified all the items owned by the previous Dalai Lama, exclaiming, ‘That’s mine! That’s mine! And that, too, is mine!’
“So, at the age of two, I was recognized formally as the reincarnated Dalai Lama and renamed Jetsun Jamphel Ngawang Lobsang Yeshe Tenzin Gyatso, which means
Holy Lord, Gentle Glory, Compassionate, Defender of the Faith, Ocean of Wisdom
.”
“Sort of like the Queen of England,” I observe.
“The position of Dalai Lama is not royalty, you understand,” His Holiness informs. “And Her Majesty certainly has more money than a Dalai Lama might require.”
“So, what was your childhood like?” I inquire.
“My monastic education commenced at the age of six. My teachers were Yongdzin Ling Rinpoche and Yongdzin Trijang Rinpoche. At the age of eleven I met the Austrian mountaineer Heinrich Harrer—I spotted him in Lhasa through my telescope! He became one of my tutors. He taught me about the outside world. We remained friends until his death.
“During 1959, at the age of twenty-three, I took the final examination at Lhasa’s Jokhang Temple during the annual Monlam, or Prayer Festival. I passed with honors and was awarded the Lharampa degree, the highest-level
geshe
degree, roughly equivalent to a doctorate in Buddhist philosophy.”