If Jesus Was Not Preaching Christianity, What Was He Actually Doing?

In the quiet hills of Galilee, a teacher of Hebrew religious philosophy gathers crowds by the sea, speaking of a kingdom not built by human hands but breaking forth like dawn within the human heart. He quotes the ancient prophets, restores vision to minds, and challenges the priesthood; not to overthrow the faith of his ancestors, but to awaken it from within.

What if the Jesus we think we understand was not founding a new religion called “Christianity,” but calling his people back to the deepest promise of their own covenant with their Deity?

The imagined historical Jesus was deeply embedded in the age’s Hellenistic Judaism, but what he taught diverged in fascinating ways from the dominant religious currents of his time (and from the Christianity that later falsely developed around his memory). When actually comprehending the character beyond and yet hidden within the Jesus character, one finds that he operated firmly within Hebrew covenantal and Torah frameworks, yet with a distinctive emphasis that prioritized inner transformation over ritualistic debates.

Thomas Kazen carefully traces how Jesus engaged the Torah (the sacred instruction of Israel) not as an unyielding legal code demanding endless refinement, but as living guidance that points toward mercy, justice, and inner rightness (Kazen, n.d.). In the Gospels, Jesus affirms the Torah’s enduring place while consistently elevating its “weightier matters” over ritual details. His disputes with religious leaders were not attempts to abolish the law, but prophetic calls to embody its true spirit in an age when legal interpretation was still fluid and open to renewal.

Tom Holmén sharpens this picture by turning our attention to the covenant itself (the foundational belief in the Hebrew God’s unique relationship with Israel that both unified and divided its communities in the first century) (Holmén, 2004). Across the diverse “Judaisms” of the time, people engaged in fervent “covenant path searching,” debating how best to remain faithful through observance and practice. Strikingly, Jesus stands apart from this anxious quest. He does not join the widespread effort to define covenant loyalty through competing halakic frameworks. Instead, Holmén suggests, Jesus embodies the eschatological vision of prophets like Jeremiah: a coming covenant in which his God’s will is written directly on the heart, making external striving unnecessary; an inner knowing that renders the search for the right path obsolete.

Here the insights of Kazen and Holmén begin to resonate as one voice: the imagined historical Jesus interprets the Torah prophetically and steps back from covenantal debates not out of indifference, but because he lives and teaches as though the promised renewal has already begun.

In my book, “The Dawn of Devotion,” I carry the harmony of Kazen and Holmén into bolder, philosophical territory (Jackson, 2024). I dissect the story of Jesus as the dramatic enactment of a devotional shift: the crucifixion not as a literal payment for sin, but as the symbolic death to an “old conversation” (a mindset chained to external ordinances and handwritten rules). In its place rises “Immanuel,” the philosophy of “God-with-us” as an inward reality, a wisdom that purges the conscience and liberates from the very strength of sin that external law unwittingly amplifies. This, I do argue and prove from the scriptures, fulfills the ancient promise of a law no longer imposed from without, but alive within the personal and the devotional spirit.

When observing the imagined historical Jesus from a purely philosophical point of view, a quiet yet meaningful dialogue emerges. Kazen shows us a Jesus who honors the Torah yet prioritizes its heart. Holmén reveals a teacher who bypasses the era’s covenantal anxieties because he trusts the prophetic future breaking into the present. I dare us to see the cross itself as the sacrifice of an outdated religious mindset, making way for direct, transformative communion with the living God.

The mindful revelation that emerges is both simple and revolutionary: the Jesus we imagine (but are falsely unaware of) was not preaching the birth of Christianity as a separate faith. He was renewing Hebrew religious philosophy from its deepest roots, proclaiming that the long-awaited “kingdom” arrives not through perfected observance or institutional reform, but through hearts transformed by God’s own presence. His message was not “leave the old behind,” but “enter the old more deeply, for its fulfillment is here.”

What if the real revolution was not starting a new religion, but awakening an ancient one to its own radical promise without religion? Maybe perhaps the truest inheritance “Jesus” left is not a new religion to defend, but an ancient invitation renewed: to let go of anxious religious striving and trust the quiet voice writing love, mercy, and justice on the soul of one’s devotional conscience.

References

Holmén, T. (2004). Jesus, Judaism and the covenant. Journal for the Study of the Historical Jesus, 2(1), 3–27.

Jackson, L., Jr. (2024). The Dawn of Devotion: A Sacrifice for Devotional Evolution. Brilliant Publishing, LLC.

Kazen, T. (n.d.). Jesus’ interpretation of the Torah [Pre-publication English version]. Manuscript for Jesus Handbuch.

The Historical Jesus vs. the Christ of Faith: Can They Be Separated?

The figure of Jesus stands at the heart of Christianity, yet his identity sparks endless debate: Is he the historical Hebrew minister who walked the dusty roads of first-century Palestine, or the cosmic Christ of Faith, exalted in the confessions of the Church? This tension; between a Jesus of history and a Christ of faith; has fueled centuries of scholarship, theological reflection, and spiritual inquiry. Can these two figures (for the sake of Christianity’s continuance and survival) be meaningfully separated, or are they inextricably intertwined? Drawing on some insights (Anderson, 2013; Collins, n.d.; Samuels, n.d.; Wright, 1996), this blog post explores this interesting question, inviting you to also ponder the historical, theological, and philosophical implications of the Jesus character’s dual identity.

The Historical Jesus

The quest for the historical Jesus seeks to uncover the possible man behind the myth—a figure grounded in the cultural, religious, and political realities of first-century Hellenistic Judaism. Scholars like E.P. Sanders and N.T. Wright emphasize Jesus as an eschatological prophet proclaiming the imminent arrival of God’s kingdom (Sanders, 1995, as cited in Samuels, n.d.; Wright, 1996). Far from a timeless moral teacher, Jesus was a Galilean Hebrew (Galilee is in the land of Naphtali) who challenged the Roman occupation and Jewish religious establishment with a message of radical renewal. The actions of his ministry—calling disciples, enlightening people and doctrinally challenging the Sanhedrin, and overturning tables in the Temple—marked him as a charismatic leader, a “sage” with social and political implications (Borg, as cited in Samuels, n.d.).

Adela Yarbro Collins highlights Jesus’ distinctiveness even among other prophets like John the Baptist. Unlike John’s ascetic rigor, Jesus embraced table fellowship, symbolizing his God’s inclusive love and joy (Collins, n.d.). His teachings, rooted in Hebrew Scripture, carried an unprecedented authority, leading some to see him as the Messiah during his lifetime. Yet, his crucifixion—a brutal Roman execution—challenged messianic expectations, forcing followers to reinterpret his death as part of a divine plan (Collins, n.d.).

This historical Jesus is vivid, human, and deeply Hebrew. But can he be isolated from the Greek theological figure who emerged in the wake of his death?

The Christ of Faith

The Christ of Faith is the exalted figure of Christian confession, celebrated in the Pauline epistles, Johannine theology, and church doctrine. This Christ is not scripted as being merely a historical preacher but the cosmic savior, the “second name for Jesus” in Paul’s writings, embodying salvation for the church (Kärkkäinen, as cited in Samuels, n.d.). The Gospel of John, with its high Christology, presents the Jesus character as the manifested Greek Logos, the Word (Greek Logos) made flesh, distinct from the Synoptic Gospels’ focus on his humanity (Anderson, 2013).

For theologians like Pannenberg, Christology is about grounding the church’s confession in the historical activity of Jesus, yet it transcends history (Pannenberg, as cited in Samuels, n.d.). The Christ of Faith is confessed as risen, exalted, and returning—a figure woven into the nature of Christian worship, theory, and belief. This theological construct, shaped by post-resurrection experiences and Hellenistic influences, elevates the Jesus character beyond his Hebrew or Jewish context into a universal savior.

But does this elevation erase the historical Jesus, or does it depend on him?

The Tension: Can History and Faith Be Divided?

The debate over separating the Jesus of history from the Christ of Faith is not ultimately academic—it’s a philosophical and spiritual crossroads. Individuals like David Friedrich Strauss argued for a stark divide, dismissing miracles as mythological expressions of messianic belief rather than historical events (Collins, n.d.). Strauss’ naturalistic approach sought to strip away theology to reveal a purely human Jesus, a view echoed by John Dominic Crossan, who portrays Jesus as a non-apocalyptic sage akin to a Cynic philosopher (Wright, 1996).

Yet, this dichotomy is problematic. Paul N. Anderson challenges Strauss’ rigid separation, arguing that history and theology are “inextricably entwined” (Anderson, 2013, p. 81). The Gospel of John (despite its manuscript being heavily re-written by various authors), often dismissed as purely theological, contains more mundane and archaeologically verified details (not about the Jesus character) than the Synoptics, suggesting a historical core beneath its theological veneer (Anderson, 2013). Similarly, N.T. Wright rejects the divide, proposing that Jesus’ historical actions—his Temple critique, table fellowship, and self-understanding as a messianic figure—form the foundation for early Christian theology (Wright, 1996). For Wright, linking the resurrection to the Jesus character is the pivotal event: without it, Jesus’ movement would have fizzled like other failed messianic campaigns (Wright, 1996).

The Synoptic Gospels, too, blur the line. While they seek to emphasize Jesus’ humanity, their portrayal of him as a prophet and miracle-worker carries theological weight (Samuels, n.d.). Even the historical Jesus’ apocalyptic worldview, which modern academics downplay, was inherently theological, expressing hope in his God’s intervention (Collins, n.d.). As Anderson notes, “insignificant historicity is a contradiction of terms” (Anderson, 2013, p. 77). Events are remembered because they matter, and their significance is inherently subjective.

The Interplay of Memory and Meaning

Philosophically, the question of separating the Jesus of history from the Christ of Faith touches on the nature of memory, truth, and identity. History is not a sterile collection of facts but a narrative shaped by those who remember, and also by those that have the power to manipulate what others should remember. The early Christians’ belief in Jesus’ resurrection transformed their memory of him, not by erasing his historical reality but by infusing it with cosmic significance (Wright, 1996). As Borg suggests, the Gospels use metaphorical language to convey the Jesus character’s meaning, not just his actions (Samuels, n.d.).

This challenges us to consider: Can we know Jesus without faith, or does faith illuminate his history? For individuals like Vermes and Fredriksen, Jesus’ Jewishness is the key to his historical identity, grounding him in a specific cultural context (Samuels, n.d.). Yet, the Christ of Faith transcends this context, speaking to universal human longings for redemption and justice. The two are not mutually exclusive but dialectical, each informing the other.

Why It Matters

The debate over the historical Jesus and the Christ of Faith is more than an academic exercise—it’s a question of how we encounter “Jesus” today. For believers, the Christ of Faith offers a living presence, rooted in an embellishment of the historical Jesus’ life and death (there was no resurrection). For skeptics, the historical Jesus provides a tangible figure, free from dogmatic overlays. Both perspectives enrich our understanding, but neither fully captures the mystery of both the invented historical and mythological identity of the Jesus character identity.

As Wright argues, the historical Jesus’ radical vocation redefines our concept of “God” itself (Wright, 1996). This challenges comfortable orthodoxies and secular assumptions alike. Similarly, Collins’ call to interpret Jesus’ apocalyptic language metaphorically invites us to see his message as addressing timeless human desires for freedom and justice (Collins, n.d.). This was not a dying and rising demigod, but an individual that understood the Hebrew Scriptures in a way where his intellect was becoming counterintuitive to the Sanhedrin’s agenda.

An Inseparable Unity?

SO, can the historical Jesus and the cosmic Christ of Faith, for the sake of Christian theory’s survival, be separated? The evidence suggests not. The historical Jesus, a Hebrew prophet educating on the incoming presence of the “kingdom of God” (Rome) and the inward movement of the kingdom of God (a dispensation of understanding), is the foundation for the mythological Christ of Faith, whose cosmic significance Christian theologians have transformed over the centuries. While individuals like Strauss and Crossan seek to peel away theology, and others like Anderson and Wright insist on their unity, the truth lies in the tension. This is all for the sake of Christian theory, which needs an apparently concrete figure to make their belief appear credible. But seeing as how the historical minister was not a Christian walking around calling himself “Christ” or “Son of Man,” the man himself would not actually need his Greek myth to get his point across. Surely all of this encourages us to continue to wrestle with the paradox of history and faith.

References

Anderson, P. N. (2013). The Jesus of history, the Christ of faith, and the Gospel of John. In The Gospels: History and Christology: The Search of Joseph Ratzinger—Benedict XVI (Vol. 2, pp. 63–81). Libreria Editrice Vaticana.

Collins, A. Y. (n.d.). The historical Jesus: Then and now.

Samuels, P.-P. (n.d.). A critical analysis of the Jesus of history vs. the Christ of faith debate.

Wright, N. T. (1996). The historical Jesus and Christian theology. Sewanee Theological Review, 39.

How Platonism Led Christianity Away from the Hebrew Scriptures

Christian theology underwent profound changes as it encountered Greek philosophy, particularly Platonism. While this philosophical framework offered early theologians tools to articulate their faith within the intellectual climate of the Greco-Roman world, it also caused Christianity to diverge significantly from the character and philosophy of the Hebrew Scriptures. Key biblical passages such as Psalm 51:10 (“Create in me a clean heart, O God; and renew a right spirit within me”), Proverbs 4:7 (“Wisdom is the principal thing; therefore get wisdom: and with all thy getting get understanding”), and Proverbs 1:23 (“I will pour out my spirit unto you, I will make known my words unto you”) highlight a deeply personal and inward communion with the Bible, rooted in practical, devotional growth.

This blog examines how Christian theory’s reliance on Platonic thought reshaped its doctrines about “God,” the soul, and morality, moving away from the personal, practical philosophy of the Hebrew Scriptures.

Platonism and the Nature of God

The Hebrew Scriptures depict its God as being consciously relational and involved in the daily lives of its people. Passages like Psalm 51:10 reveal a God who works directly within the human heart and mind, creating renewal and fostering a deeply personal transformation. This reflects a God who is not distant but intimately connected to the inner lives of individuals, guiding them through their struggles and joys.

However, Platonism introduced a more abstract concept of God. Plato’s idea of the Forms—eternal, unchangeable ideals—reshaped Christian theology, presenting God as a distant, immaterial entity. Early Christian thinkers like Augustine embraced this framework, equating God with the ultimate Form of the Good, emphasizing God’s transcendence over God’s immanence.

This philosophical shift marked a departure from the Hebrew Scriptures’ portrayal of a God who walks with his people, interacts personally, and responds to their cries for renewal. Instead of the practical and relational connection seen in Psalm 51:10, “God” became an abstract object of contemplation. This shift minimized the personal, inward aspect of faith, replacing it with an intellectual pursuit of understanding God’s nature.

Platonism and the Soul

The Hebrew Scriptures offer a holistic view of being human. The soul, or nephesh, is not a separate, immaterial entity but a unified representation of the person, encompassing and influencing their mind, body, and personality. Passages like Proverbs 1:23 emphasize this integrated approach, where “God’s Spirit” is poured out onto the mind to bring wisdom, understanding, and regeneration to the individual’s entire being. The focus is on a personal communion with the Bible’s words through the character of “God’s Mind” within those words, leading to practical, inward transformation.

Platonism, however, introduced a dualistic understanding of human nature, where the soul is distinct from and superior to the body. Plato described the soul as eternal and pure, trapped within the corrupt material world. This perspective heavily influenced early Christian theology, particularly through Augustine, who viewed salvation as the liberation of the soul from the physical body.

This dualistic framework diverged from the Hebrew Scriptures’ holistic philosophy, where renewal and wisdom are experienced in both the spiritual and physical realms. The Platonized emphasis on the soul’s escape from the material world shifted the focus of Christianity, leading to an undervaluation of the physical body and earthly existence, both of which are celebrated in the Hebrew worldview.

Platonism and Morality

Morality in the Hebrew Scriptures is deeply practical, rooted in personal resurrection and the pursuit of wisdom through the Bible’s words. Proverbs 4:7 states, “Wisdom is the principal thing; therefore get wisdom: and with all thy getting get understanding,” emphasizing the importance of actionable wisdom that shapes daily life. Similarly, Proverbs 1:23 highlights the inward communion that the devotional conversation’s conscience is to have with the Bible’s words, where the character of those words is to be digested for practical and devotional growth.

Platonism, however, shifted morality toward the pursuit of abstract ideals. Plato’s concept of the Good—an eternal, unchanging standard of virtue—redefined Christian ethics, aligning it with intellectual contemplation rather than practical, lived wisdom. Early theologians equated the Platonic Good with God, turning morality into a rational endeavor focused on aligning with philosophical ideals rather than engaging in personal, transformative communion with the Bible’s words.

This departure minimized the relational and practical approach seen in the Hebrew Scriptures. Where the Bible calls for a personal relationship with its words to guide moral decisions, Platonism encouraged Christians to seek virtue through intellectual abstraction, often disconnecting morality from the lived realities of daily life.

How Platonism Departed from the Hebrew Scriptures’ Philosophy

The Hebrew Scriptures, beneath its allegory, emphasize a life of practical mental and philosophical devotion and inward renewal, as seen in passages like Psalm 51:10 and Proverbs 4:7. These verses reveal an experience of words working within the hearts of individuals, providing wisdom and guidance for real-life joys and challenges. The philosophy of the Hebrew Scriptures is deeply relational, focused on personal growth and the maturity of the whole person.

Platonism, however, introduced a framework that prioritized the immaterial over the material, the intellectual over the practical, and the abstract over the relational. By adopting Platonic ideals, Christian theory distanced itself from the Bible’s worldview, which values inward communion with its words for practical wisdom as the foundation for personal and communal life.

Early Christian theologians, influenced by Platonism, sought to make their faith intellectually respectable in the Greco-Roman world. However, this intellectual synthesis often came at the expense of the deeply personal and practical philosophy of the Hebrew Scriptures. The result was a religion (Christianity) that emphasized philosophical abstraction over the actionable wisdom and renewal found in the Bible’s words.

The Lasting Impact of Platonism on Christianity

The integration of Platonism into Christian theology fundamentally altered its trajectory, leading to doctrines that were often at odds with the Hebrew Scriptures. While Platonism provided a framework for engaging with the intellectual culture of the Greco-Roman world, it also caused Christianity to lose touch with its supposed biblical roots.

The Hebrew Scriptures call its student to seek wisdom, pursue inward renewal, and commune with the living God through the Bible’s words. These practical and relational principles stand in stark contrast to the abstract, intellectualized morality and theology introduced by Platonism.

Recognizing this departure is essential for understanding how Christianity evolved and for reclaiming the Bible’s emphasis on personal, devotional growth. By returning to the underlying wisdom of the Hebrew Scriptures, we can reconnect with an experience that is practical, transformative, and deeply relational.

 

References:

Boone, M. J. (2015). The Role of Platonism in Augustine's 386 Conversion to Christianity. Religion compass, 9(5), 151-161.

Mosheim, J. L. (1852). Institutes of Ecclesiastical History, Ancient and Modern. Edward Howell.