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.

From Serapis to Christ: How Syncretism Shaped Imperial Religion

History teaches us that religious identity is never static. It is a fluid negotiation of power, culture, and community. In the ancient world, few examples better illustrate this than the State-sanctioned creation and adaptation of gods like Serapis and Jesus the Christ. These figures did not emerge in cultural vacuums. Rather, they were carefully crafted through syncretism—an intricate blending of belief systems—to unify fractured empires and legitimize rulers.

Serapis: The Politics of Invention

When Ptolemy I Soter, a Macedonian general of Alexander the Great, assumed power in Egypt around 305 BC, he faced a unique dilemma: how to govern an empire split between native Egyptians and Hellenistic (Greek) settlers. His solution was Serapis, a deity forged not from faith, but from political necessity. Serapis was a hybrid god, combining elements of the Egyptian Osiris and Apis with Greek gods such as Zeus, Hades, and Asclepius. He had the appearance of a Greek ruler but bore the attributes of Egyptian underworld gods, complete with a grain basket (modius) atop his head symbolizing abundance and fertility (Murphy, 2021).

Ptolemy introduced Serapis not just to unite religious traditions, but to also reframe the State itself. As Dawson (2014) notes, the cult of Serapis allowed Greeks in Alexandria to claim a spiritual stake in their new home while pacifying Egyptians by linking Serapis with their revered Osiris-Apis tradition. Temples like the Serapeum in Memphis bore dual architecture and symbolism, housing statues of both Greek philosophers and Egyptian sphinxes – visual testaments to a calculated fusion of cultures.

Yet, Serapis was not readily accepted by all. Despite state sponsorship, his cult struggled to win widespread Egyptian devotion. Egyptians often saw him as a “counterfeit” version of their own gods, while Greeks viewed him as a legitimizing tool of Ptolemaic rule (Murphy, 2021). His success lay not in winning hearts, but in stabilizing a divided polity.

Constantine: The Syncretist Emperor

Fast forward to the 4th century AD. Constantine the Great stood atop a similarly divided empire, this time between pagans and a growing Christian (pagan Hellenistic Jew) population. Like Ptolemy before him, Constantine saw in religion a powerful tool for imperial unity. But where Ptolemy invented a god, Constantine rebranded a religion.

Though Constantine is often hailed as Christianity’s champion, his policy was less about theology and more about control. Constantine maintained tolerance toward traditional pagan practices while promoting the Christian religion as the new ideological glue of the empire. His edicts did not immediately ban pagan sacrifices, as some scholars have claimed, but instead reflected a careful balancing act between religious communities (Errington, 1988).

To ease the transition, Constantine employed a similar syncretic strategy. Christian holidays were aligned with pagan festivals; most famously, Christmas with Saturnalia. Temples once dedicated to pagan deities were rededicated to Christian saints. Even the Jesus character’s image gradually took on the visual likeness of Roman gods like Sol Invictus, reinforcing familiarity through resemblance.

Syncretism as Statecraft

Both Ptolemy and Constantine used religious syncretism to perform a crucial function: to unite disparate populations under a single cultural umbrella without resorting to outright repression. Their approach was pragmatic, not pious.

For Ptolemy, Serapis offered a symbolic common ground between colonizers and the colonized. For Constantine, the Christian religion provided a unified moral code and institutional framework adaptable to Roman governance. In both cases, religion was not imposed from below by prophets or mystics, but shaped from above by rulers wielding “divine authority” as an extension of political will.

This strategy resonates with modern attempts at multicultural governance. From India’s policy of religious pluralism to the inclusion of interfaith prayers in U.S. civic ceremonies, states continue to use symbolic fusion to forge unity out of diversity. I suppose it is on us to be on the look out for another Constantine or Ptolemy I, and their new Jesus Serapis.

Learn From History

Religious syncretism in antiquity wasn’t merely theological, it was a form of imperial strategy. Serapis and Jesus, though born of different eras, embody the same impulse: to craft religious meaning in the service of social cohesion. One would then think, for example, that the Jesus character would shriek at such a masterful sociopolitical opportunity to rule an empire, seeing as how in John 6:15, when he “perceived that they would come and take him by force, to make him a king, he departed again into a mountain himself alone.” Why, once Constantine takes office, does Jesus change his mind? Whether through the merging of Isis and Demeter or the transformation of Saturnalia into Christmas, empires have always sought to anchor their authority in what is to be thought of as “sacred.”

I believe that we, as we move through our present world, can learn from this history. The blending of “faiths” is not just a practice of the past, it’s a living process, and one that continues to define how we share space, stories, and ultimately, what we revere as supposedly “divine.”

References

Dawson, D. (2014). A Cult of Fusion. Vulcan Historical Review, 18.

Errington, R. M. (1988). Constantine and the Pagans. Greek, Roman and Byzantine Studies, 29(3), 309–314.

Murphy, L. (2021). Beware Greeks Bearing Gods: Serapis as a Cross-Cultural Deity. Amphora, 2, 29–44.

Nurturing the Blossom of Wisdom: The Bible's Path to True Devotion

In the complex journey of spirituality, the Bible has long served as a source of wisdom and guidance. It offers us insights into life's deepest questions, revealing that true devotion transcends mere religious activity and routine. Instead, it invites us to allow the wisdom gained from its pages to blossom within, creating a transformative and lasting connection with its character.

The wisdom acquired from the Bible is not an isolated experience but is a vital force sustaining the devotional conversation. It goes beyond the rituals and actions often associated with religion, which seek to compel belief through coarse mental and physical stimulation. Instead, it encourages us to look inward, recognizing that genuine devotion occurs within the depths of our faith’s being.

The Bible doesn't just touch the surface of our existence; it moves deep into our essence, calling us to explore our inward person. This Bible’s wisdom is the foundation upon which our devotional journey is to be built.

Unlike traditional religious practices that may insist on external deeds or rituals, the Bible, despite how it appears on the surface, addresses wellbeing as something occurring within us. It teaches us that the devotional conversation has a partnership with its character—a waiting on the words of the Bible, allowing them to take root in the fertile soil of our faith’s heart and mind.

In this practice, there is no need to engage in elaborate ceremonies or repetitive actions. Instead, we are encouraged to turn our focus inward and let the wisdom within the Bible guide our thoughts, feelings, behaviors, and actions. This is where the true essence of spirituality lies, beyond the constraints of religious routine and theory.

It's important to distinguish this practice from conventional religion. While religion may often require individuals to wait on a particular deed, theory, or act to feel engaged with their beliefs and experiences, the Bible's path to true devotion hinges on wisdom, not rituals.

The words of the Bible serve as a catalyst, sparking an internal transformation. They encourage us to examine our beliefs, question our motives, and cultivate compassion and love for all living minds. In doing so, we become active participants in our devotional journey, rather than passive observers of religious routines.

True and pure religion, as the Bible exemplifies, is not a routine guided by the mind within the body. It is determined by the wisdom gained through a diligent exploration of the Bible's words. It's a deep, inner exploration that is both educational and inspiring.

In this endeavor, the Bible becomes more than a book of religious texts; it becomes a wellspring of wisdom that guides us on a transformative path toward true and sincere devotion. As we allow the wisdom within the Bible to blossom within our hearts and minds, we embark on a spiritual journey that is both profound and deeply personal.

Let us welcome the wisdom of the Bible into our lives, for it is through this wisdom that the blossom of true devotion unfolds—a devotion that goes beyond mere religious routine and enters into the realm of the Bible’s Mind, nurturing a deep and lasting connection within us that will serve to enrich not only our lives, but also the lives of those around us.