View Full Version : Cygnus' Study - "Debunking the Bible"?

Saturday, April 15th, 2006, 11:33 AM

Saturday, April 15th, 2006, 01:42 PM
Like your avatar! I had an image like that on one of my websites once. Interesting link. :)

My image looked like this:

The Horned God
Saturday, April 15th, 2006, 02:04 PM
An interesting excerpt...

The Gospel of Infancy Thomas

as translated by Harold Attridge & Ronald F. Hock in the book
The Complete Gospels, Harper Collins, ©1992

Boyhood deeds of our Lord Jesus Christ

1 I, Thomas the Israelite, am reporting to you, all my non-Jewish brothers and sisters, to make known the extraordinary childhood deeds of our Lord Jesus Christ - what he did after his birth in my region. This is how it all started:

2 When this boy, Jesus, was five years old, he was playing at the ford of a rushing stream. (2) He was collecting the flowing water into ponds and made the water instantly pure. He did this with a single command. (3) He then made soft clay and shaped it into twelve sparrows. He did this on the sabbath day, and many other boys were playing with him.
(4)But when a Jew saw what Jesus was doing while playing on the sabbath day, he immediately went off and told Joseph, Jesus' father: "See here, your boy is at the ford and has taken mud and fashioned twelve birds with it, and so has violated the sabbath."
(5)So Joseph went there, and as soon as he spotted him he shouted, "Why are you doing what's not permitted on the sabbath?"
(6)But Jesus simply clapped his hands and shouted to the sparrows: "Be off, fly away, and remembe' me, you who are now alive!" And the sparrows took off and flew away noisily.
(7)The Jews watched with amazement, then left the scene to report to their leaders what they had seen Jesus doing.

3 The son of Annas the scholar, standing there with Jesus, took a willow branch and drained the water Jesus had collected. (2)Jesus, however, saw what had happened and became angry, saying to him, "Damn you, you irreverent fool! What harm did the ponds of water do to you? From this moment you, too, will dry up like a tree, and you'll never produce leaves or root or bear fruit."
(3) In an instant the boy had completely withered away. Then Jesus departed and left for the house of Joseph. (4)The parents of the boy who had withered away picked him up and were carrying him out, sad because he was so young. And they came to Joseph and accused him: "It's your fault - your boy did this."

4 Later he was going through the village again when a boy ran and bumped him on the shoulder. Jesus got angry and said to him, "You won't continue your journey." (2)And all of a sudden, he fell down and died.
(3)Some people saw what had happened and said, "Where has this boy come from? Everything he says happens instantly!"
(4)The parents of the dead boy came to Joseph and blamed him saying, "Because you have such a boy, you can't live with us in the village, or else teach him to bless and not curse. He's killing our children!"

5 So Joseph summoned his child and admonished him in private, saying, "Why are you doing all this? These people are suffering and so they hate and harass us." (2)Jesus said, "I know that these are not your words, still, I'll keep quiet for your sake. But those people must take their punishment." There and then his accusers became blind.
(3)Those who saw this became very fearful and at a loss. All they could say was, "Every word he says, whether good or bad, has became a deed - a miracle even!" (4)When Joseph saw that Jesus had done such a thing, he got angry and grabbed his ear and pulled very hard. (5)The bot became infuriated with him and replied, "It's one thing for you to seek and not find; it's quite another for you to act this unwisely. (6)Don't you know that I don't really belong to you? Don't make me upset."

8 While the Jews were advising Zacchaeus, the child laughed loudly and said, "Now let the infertile bear fruit and the blind see and the deaf in the understanding of their heart hear: (2)I've come from above so that I might save those who are below and summon them to higher things, just as the one who sent me to you commanded me."
(3)When the child stopped speaking, all those who had fallen under the curse were instantly saved. (4)And from then on no one dared to anger him for fear of being cursed and maimed for life.

9 A few days later Jesus was playing on the roof of a house when one of the children playing with him fell off the roof and died. When the other children saw what had happened, they fled, leaving Jesus standing all by himself.
(2)The parents of the dead child came and accused Jesus: "You troublemaker you, you're the one who threw him down."
(3)Jesus responded, "I didn't throw him down - he threw himself down. He just wasn't being careful and leaped down from the roof and died."
(4)Then Jesus himself leaped down from the roof and stood by the body of the child and shouted in a loud voice: "Zeno!" - that was his name - "Get up and tell me: Did I push you?"
(5)He got up immediately and said, "No, Lord, you didn't push me, you raised me up."
(6)Those who saw this were astonished, and the child's parents praised God for the miracle that had happened and worshipped Jesus.


Saturday, April 15th, 2006, 02:19 PM
Which is possibly why Kenneth Humphreys calls him the neighbour from Hell. The anti-Christian fight is becoming extremist. I don't want to upset genuine Christians. I do what I do not to upset them but to upset Jesus. :P


Gorm the Old
Saturday, April 15th, 2006, 03:32 PM
Certainly, the Jesus of the fable cited above is a monster, the product of the perverse imagination of a sadistic moralist.

Saturday, April 15th, 2006, 04:40 PM
The trouble with Jesus is that he is a fable in himself. He is no tribe's particular god and appears to be the glued together anointed one of a number of ancient happy clappy sects. He is a composite and thus serves no real purpose other than as an ancient world version of a multicultural deity on one hand and and a Jewish heretic on the other. He thus for a while became all things to some men and once he was inserted into the minds, hearts and coffers of what was to become the new Holy Roman Empire he just took off and a lot of people were burnt to a crisp, tortured and hanged.

I had a picture of "gentle Jesus meek and mild" that hung over my bed all of my childhood. He was a beautiful, serious, angelic manifestation with golden brown long wavy hair and blue eyes. I soon realized that praying to him was a complete waste of time and that this was definitely not his fault. It wasn't my fault either it was just a terrible error. I remedied the error by removing gentle Jesus and placing him in a drawer and putting up in his stead a tapestry of Venetian fishermen on the wall above my bed. I sewed brass rings along the top and went out back and cut a reed pole and looped my fisherfolk onto it and hung them up in place of Jesus. I was sixteen.

They now hang in our lounge. They come, I think, from the 1940s and have been with me since my mother died as they belonged to her. I fixed the bits where the cat had laid into them with its claws and they have had several washes and still look wonderful. Deeply human, experienced, weather beaten and part of their world they have been in my mind and life for fifty years. Jesus is still in his drawer. Not a fallen icon but one that has finally found his grave and seems perfectly happy to be gone into it. He and I were never enemies (unlike his father and I) but also could never be friends although I felt a great deal of empathy with the way he was presented to me as a child. He was a healer and a compassionate soul (I didn't know about the "I do not bring peace but a sword" thing, I was too young to read the Bible) and I felt that we had something in common beyond his Jewishness and his maleness and his being a god and my simply being a northern European type girl. But this faded as I grew to understand that he was just a wistful and rather demanding icon for some and a growing irritation to me.

I remember the convents and the monasteries, the Protestant churches with their stiff and starchy attitude and congregations of grim faced believers and their terrible sermons where our parents were shouted at as though they were the worst most sinful creatures on earth. I remember how all this destroyed my mother's otherwise playful nature.

I remember the candles flickering in the Catholic churches, the incense of Novena on Wednesday nights and the priest making an ashy cross on my Protestant forehead as I filed along with my Catholic school mates to be told "dust you are oh man and to dust you shall return".

I remember the Harvest Festival and that hymn "there is a green hill far far away without a city wall" that made my hair stand on end it was so evocative. But it was evocative of something not Christian and I eventually found out what that was. So the hill is still green and the city still without walls but now it has its proper place and is a shrine not a hill of skulls. People were composing words and music around something else all the time and placing the centre of their attention on a chimera.

And still it clings, this ghost from the Middle East and refuses to let go of its hold on the human psyche. Those wounds still call out in excruciating pain in the sado-masochistic ritual of the homoerotic slaughtered son of a father who has forgotten him.

Happy Ostara to all Heathens in the North. The spring has come. In Greece Persephone is in the world again, or perhaps still on the stairway from the Underworld, the Queen of the Dead, the centre of the mysteries of the eternal ones.