Logos and Legend: How Faith Rewrote Jesus

When we speak of “Jesus,” are we invoking a man of first-century Judea or a cosmic figure constructed by centuries of faith? From dusty Galilean roads to the transcendent halls of Hellenistic philosophy, the Jesus character has been written and rewritten by faith traditions seeking to reconcile ancient mythos with new messianic hope.

In this blog post, we’ll peel back the layers of logos and legend, following how the faith of early Christian communities; guided by mystery cult motifs, Platonic metaphysics, and prophetic reinterpretation; recast a certain figure from rebel preacher to incarnate Word (Logos).

The Birth of a Mythical Messiah

The historian Maurice Goguel (1926) argued that the first-century Jesus, if he existed historically, was quickly enmeshed within a web of nonhistorical embellishments. Early Christian eschatology, desperate for a vindicated messiah figure after Rome crushed Jewish uprisings, likely spiritualized Jesus' death and imagined his resurrection. The resurrection belief, according to Goguel, "arose as the fulfilment of prophecy discovered after the fact" (p. 290), transforming a failed movement into a mythic faith.

This pattern wasn’t new. Hellenistic cultures were familiar with dying-and-rising gods, mystery cults offering symbolic death and rebirth through ritual. Christian theory, in this reading, borrowed these narrative forms to give cosmic significance to their messiah. The faith communities weren’t so much preserving history as crafting a sacred legend to meet spiritual and political needs.

Enter the Logos

No thinker better captures the philosophical atmosphere surrounding early Christianity than Philo of Alexandria, a Hellenistic Jew whose writing predates the New Testament. Philo envisioned a cosmic mediator figure, the Logos, as "the eldest of the powers of God" (Philo, On the Confusion of Tongues, sec. 28), an immaterial agent through whom the divine interacted with the material world.

The parallels to the Gospel of John are striking. In John's prologue, "In the beginning was the Word (Logos), and the Word was with God, and the Word was God" (John 1:1), we see Hellenistic metaphysics grafted onto Jewish messianism. Philo’s Logos concept provided early Christians a ready-made philosophical framework to elevate the Jesus character from an executed Galilean preacher to a cosmic, preexistent Logos incarnate.

This philosophical evolution wasn’t incidental. It reflected a broader tendency in Second Temple Judaism to allegorize and universalize national traditions within the Greco-Roman world’s philosophical idioms; a process Goguel identified as “prophetic exegesis reinterpreting facts as symbols” (1926, p. 203).

Faith Before Fact: The Case for a Legendary Jesus

George Albert Wells (1999) takes the argument further, contending that the earliest Christian texts — particularly Paul’s epistles — lack biographical details of Jesus. Instead, Paul speaks of a celestial figure revealed through scripture and personal visions. Wells argues this points to a mythical, not historical, origin: "The gospels’ Jesus is the result of a layered history of imaginative embellishments" (p. xviii).

According to Wells, the first believers experienced the Christ figure within the symbolic landscape of their scriptures and cosmology, not as a contemporary flesh-and-blood teacher. Only later did the legend localize Jesus in Galilee and Jerusalem to ground the myth in an historical frame, much as Romulus and Remus or Osiris once were.

From Myth to History…and Back Again

What, then, was "rewritten"? Early faith communities reinterpreted the memory of Jesus in light of Hellenistic philosophy, Jewish messianic expectation, and communal trauma. The historical person, if he existed, was submerged beneath layers of cosmic symbolism, prophetic fulfillment, and mystical allegory.

As Philo blurred the line between myth and metaphysics with his Logos, early Christians did the same with Jesus. Goguel (1926) concludes, "Faith created the Christ of the gospels" (p. 305) — not the other way around.

Today, debates about the historical Jesus miss the absolute point: religious traditions often rewrite their founders to meet new needs; fusing logos and legend into enduring myth to create Jesus is nothing new. Ignoring the fact that the Jesus character founded no church or religion himself, this fact, concerning Christian theory, remains in-tact.

Final Thought?

The making of Jesus as Logos wasn’t an accident of history but a strategy of meaning. In a fragmented empire teeming with mystery religions, wisdom cults, and apocalyptic movements, Christianity’s genius lay in reworking faith’s raw material — myth, philosophy, prophecy — into a compelling narrative of cosmic redemption.

And in doing so, faith didn’t just record history; it rewrote it.

References

Goguel, M. (1926). Jesus the Nazarene: Myth or History? D. Appleton and Company.

Philo of Alexandria. (n.d.). The Complete Works of Philo: Complete and Unabridged (C. D. Yonge, Trans.).

Wells, G. A. (1999). The Jesus Myth. Open Court.

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.

Reclaiming One's Heart: How Christology Lost Its Devotional Core

“Create in me a clean heart, O God; and renew a right spirit within me.” — Psalm 51:10

This cry, manifesting in the poetic layers of the psalmist’s soul, is the revelation of the Bible’s underlying philosophy. At its core, the Hebrew Scriptures call for inward transformation through a sincere acquaintance with its words: “Acquaint now thyself with him, and be at peace... lay up his words in thine heart” (Job 22:21–22). Knowledge, to the Bible’s mind, is not propositional or metaphysical. It is personal, reflective, and intimate: “...through knowledge shall the just be delivered” (Proverbs 11:9).

But what became of this simple, yet meaningful devotional experience, in early Christianity?

Paul and the Early Shift Toward Metaphysics

According to Marshall (1967), Paul's writings represent a critical theological shift. While Paul's letters include moral exhortations and personal struggles, his Christology primarily conceptualizes the Jesus character as a supramundane figure (p. 78), a being of divine essence who stands in metaphysical proximity to his God. In Galatians 4:4, Paul refers to his Christ as being sent from God, implying a preexistent, divine being rather than a prophetic teacher rooted in human history.

Marshall shows that by the time Paul writes, within only two decades of the Jesus character’s supposed crucifixion, a Hellenistic ontology begins to dominate, even an abstract framework emphasizing this figure’s divinity in cosmic, rather than existential, terms (pp. 86–88). This early Christian turn was not accidental; it was fueled by contact with Greek ideas of the “divine man” and Gnostic notions of a descending redeemer. Jesus was no longer merely to be thought of a real and living man, one who taught his hearers to be clean-minded before God, but a metaphysical solution to “sin”— a celestial ransom.

From Jesus’ Simplicity to Council Complexity

Zachhuber (2021) highlights how this metaphysical focus deepened as Christianity moved into the fourth and fifth centuries. The Church councils, particularly Chalcedon (451 CE), did not just define who the Jesus character was—they codified him into philosophical categories derived from Greek metaphysics, such as physis, ousia, and hypostasis (Zachhuber, 2021, pp. 209–211).

As Zachhuber (2021) laments, Christology became so scholastic and technical that it lost the organic vitality of earlier Jewish spirituality. What once was a moral and relational appeal for a “renewed spirit” became a debate over whether “Jesus” had one nature or two, or whether his hypostasis aligned with divine or human substance. The devotional conversation had been colonized by the conceptual tools of Stoicism and Middle Platonism, not by the philosophy within the Psalms or the Proverbs.

Hellenistic Philosophy and the Loss of Hebrew Intimacy

The shift wasn't merely theological; it was philosophical. Zachhuber (2021) notes how later theologians like Gregory of Nyssa or Cyril of Alexandria absorbed and restructured Christian thought to mirror Platonic and Neoplatonic metaphysics (pp. 212–214). In doing so, the Jesus character was no longer primarily a teacher of the inward way but became the cosmic Logos—the rational principle of the universe.

This is a far cry from the personal yearning of the Hebrew Bible, where true knowledge is internalized in the heart and mind. As Psalm 51 indicates, devotion was never about metaphysical comprehension, but ethical devotional sincerity and inner transformation.

The False Images: Paul's Cosmic Christ and the Gospel Jesus

Both Marshall and Zachhuber help us see that the Christ of Paul—and even the progressively mythologized Jesus of the Gospels—represent a theological departure. As the church absorbed Greek categories, it replaced the Hebrew notion of “acquaintance with God” with allegiance to a doctrinal system.

Jesus becomes functionally divine in Paul’s letters, but that functionality is tied to sacrificial substitution rather than the transformation of character. In the Gospels, Jesus is slowly mythologized as a miracle-working demigod, drawing from Hellenistic Jewish and pagan traditions. The result: the devotional emphasis on the heart and spirit gives way to belief in personhood and doctrine.

Marshall (1967) warns us not to overlook this subtle but powerful transition. He writes, “It would be most curious if the early church had proceeded to use this title [Son of God] in a purely functional manner,” and yet this is precisely what occurred in both Pauline and post-Pauline theology (Marshall, 1967, p. 84).

The Way Back: Knowledge That Delivers

The Bible’s spirituality, as Proverbs teaches, rests on the deliverance brought through knowledge, not metaphysical speculation, but knowing in the Hebrew sense: encountering, internalizing, and embodying. “Acquaint now thyself with Him…” (Job 22:21) is not a call to creeds, but to presence.

Christian theology has spent centuries drifting from this central point. Zachhuber is keenly aware of this when he observes that the technical debates of the fourth century often "exact a real loss of religious meaning as the price for doctrinal sophistication" (Zachhuber, 2021, p. 216). The church may have constructed cathedrals of logic, but it did so on the ruins of Hebrew philosophical devotion.

To reclaim one’s clean heart, the devotional conversation must step away from the illusion of Christological precision and return to the raw, honest prayer of the psalmist’s soul. Not a metaphysical Jesus, nor a politicized Gospel Jesus—but a conversation with the living God, the one whose words renews and delivers.

Let the Heart Speak Again

Christians must reckon with the fact that what has been handed down to them (in their religious theory) is a compromised inheritance—one shaped more by Plato and Philo than by Moses and the Prophets. Paul's Jesus, and also the Gospel Jesus, have been so layered with foreign philosophy that one’s original devotional experience and conscience has been obscured.

But the Psalms still call. The Proverbs still promise deliverance through knowledge. Nothing has changed. And Job still reminds us that peace comes not through theology, but through acquaintance with the Bible’s words. The time has come to let our devotional heart speak again—unmediated, unencumbered, and undistracted by the philosophical scaffolding of a church that forgot how to pray, learn, and reflect.

References

Marshall, I. H. (1967). The Development of Christology in the Early Church. Tyndale Bulletin, 18(1), 77-93.

Zachhuber, J. (2021). Christology in the fourth century: a response.