>>17082742
The primary purpose of John's baptisms was to call people to repentance and prepare them for the coming of the Messiah.

>>17082743

did his baptisms actually do anything though?

>>17082742
Local schizo used by jesus to validate his new cult

>>17082753
He called people to confess their sins and undergo baptism as a sign of their commitment to change their ways and prepare for the coming of the Messiah.

>>17082742
Like others said, he even told people the messiah was coming.
He prepared the way for Jesus in ways no one even speaks about.
When John was beheaded, Jesus knew of it, and it pained him just as much as Jesus cried in the garden before he went with the crucifixion for our sins. Jesus also wept for the weeping widows who wept for Lazarus.
Like Jesus, John was slain by a fake in charge of what they claimed to be the leader of Israel.
However, John knew he himself was a sinner, but he still , as like a church pastor, called Herod to purify himself of his sins. Politicians today are called to be open to free speech, but not democrats who want it shut down. Like baby marriage brazil shutting down Elon musk for having Alex jones and Trump on it.
Jesus Christ is without sin, however, meaning he could go around accusing people of everything he wants, but he still doesn’t and went around loving everyone and calling people to forgiveness instead and was still killed for that.
It’s due to Satan using the jews and the law of the jews which worship man instead of God. The jews know God will always preserve a number of them, so the jews know that they can always subvert the entire world and gain dominance over the entire world and serve their self and money and sin and not God. They also claim that it is their free right to do this to get their reward here in this world and reject that they will burn in hell when they die because all they see is their ability to get these pleasures in this life. That’s kind of true, that God does give people a free will, but it’s also true that you don’t own yourself, God actually owns you and can do whatever He wants with you. God can even just kill many jews that follow Satan right now and not even show any mercy whatsoever if He so desired, He’s God and can do whatever He wants, He just does show mercy because God is good and because God does set time limits for evil (very short ones, too).

>>17082742
He was a prophet sent by thr god of light, later appropriated by the roman Saulist religion

>>17082757

Were they sacramental?

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>>17082743
>>17082757
Didnt do a stellar job if he got people to start worshiping him instead

>>17082742

Was John a priest? If so who ordained him?

>>17082742
I know that mandeans venerate him over Jesus

https://youtu.be/DMx_JKJbvJI

>>17082743
>>17082754
>>17082863
>>17082945
Johannes was the high priest of the priesthood of Oannes.
Oannes was a western european missionary druid of the Auk-bird solar-egg worshipping priesthood of old times that wanted to check out the rumors of Osiris' big colony (another druid).
The letters YHWH is one way to write out the main part of his name, OAN,- which is pronounced closer to modern day "Ewan" or alternatively... Yohan.
it's all so easy, try not to be offended of not having seen it yourself.
we can't all be counter-current autismos.

>>17082742
He was an Essene which was a mystic Jewish sect. If you want to know what they believed read the Dead Sea Scrolls.

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>>17082742
He was a Jewish ascetic, likely an Essene but this is debatable, who lived in the wilderness eating wild locusts and honey. He preached repentance as he believed the Kingdom of God was near. He was the forerunner of Christ, anticipating a messianic figure greater than he. He baptised people, including Jesus, as was the Jewish spiritual purification process.
He is one of my favourite Bible figures

>>17082742
https://www.mythicistpapers.com/2018/07/27/the-detering-commentaries-table-of-contents/

The prevailing picture of Christian origins does need to be revised… All New Testament scholars are aware of textual material and historical data that cannot easily be reconciled… Some scholars are also aware that the literary and historical bases for the traditional reconstruction are very, very shaky. The picture itself has not yet budged, however, and will not budge until alternative explanations for the (sometimes very curious) data available are taken up for forthright discussion and evaluation. —Burton Mack, “All the Extra Jesuses” (Semeia 49 [1990], pp. 169–70.)

Some background

The above words of Burton Mack are as applicable today as when he wrote them almost thirty years ago. We do need a thorough revision of Christian origins, for the traditional reconstruction is “very, very shaky.” Perhaps the picture of Christian origins is now finally budging. Who can say? The establishment (academic and religious) will obviously not “budge” until it is forced. Facts are ignored, tomes are ignored, even entire libraries of scholarship are ignored by a Bible Belt that is more and more involved in a culture war, in ‘scoring points’ with the masses. But facts do matter. The time must eventually come when the drip, drip, drip of uncongenial information finally wears through the ancient, rotten shell of Christian dogma, now almost two thousand years old.

One of those uncongenial drips—actually, it’s more like a fire-hose—is Dr. Hermann Detering’s recent 70-page article, “The Gnostic Meaning of the Exodus and the Beginning of the Joshua/Jesus Cult” (German: Die gnostische Deutung des Exodus and die Anfänge des Josua/Jesus-Kultes), which Hermann graciously emailed me some months ago. I immediately perceived its significance, but put the article aside until more time became available. At 70 pages, the piece is more a small book than an ‘article.’ Six months have now passed, and in that interim I’ve sketched out no less than 25 posts of analysis and commentary—far more than I’ve ever devoted to any single piece of writing. (Now you know why this blog has been so quiet of late.) This series of posts has the following goals: (a) presenting Dr. Detering’s recent work to a wider and interested readership; (b) assimilating this ground-breaking work and helping it onwards ‘to the next level’; and (c) communicating to readers my observations, comments, and reactions.

Detering is best known as a Pauline specialist. In the last decade, however, his thought has moved more and more into nontraditional areas. In 2013 he suggested the existence of not merely anti-gnostic, but also gnostic elements in the Pauline literature (“Jesus versus Jaldabaoth: Gnostische Elemente in den Paulusbriefen,” privately circulated). Over the last couple of years I’ve watched with increasing interest as Hermann’s thought has broadened to include proto-gnostic influences from the East. In the Spring of 2016 he emailed me a new article (in German on his website here) proposing that the gnostic Basilides was the author of the Odes of Solomon. Basilides lived in Alexandria and has long been suspected of ‘Buddhistic’ tendencies (e.g., see here pp. 384 ff). Basilides also taught the doctrine of rebirth (see Clem.Alex, Strom. iv.12.90). As Detering has pointed out, the Odes of Solomon have motifs remarkably evocative of India—including an all-powerful “wheel” (Ode 23:11, 13)—echoing the Wheel of Becoming/Samsara; and the enigmatic description of the Savior as “He who gathers what is in the Middle” (Ode 22:2, Charlesworth translation)—reminiscent of the Buddhist ‘Middle Way’ to liberation.

As readers may know, I’ve argued in favor of a Buddhist-Christian connection for a long time (see here and here). My eBook Buddhist and Christian Parallels presents the many similarities in teachings and ethics between the two religions. But I’ve also long suspected a historical connection between Buddhism and Christianity. The details of that contact are elusive, but surely they involve Egypt. King Ashoka sent Buddhist missionaries to Egypt and other countries about 250 BCE. I believe that seminal event was colossally important for the West and has been greatly underestimated.

I maintain that the scenario set forth at the end of my book NazarethGate offers Jesus mythicism a viable path forward. In the book’s final chapter—extending to seventy pages—I argue that the turncoat Pharisee Yeshu ha-Notsri spent many years in Alexandria, was very well educated and groomed for a position on the Sanhedrin, repudiated his Jewish religion while in Egypt, become enamored of Buddhism, returned to his native land, preached with great success, and was stoned to death by the Jewish authorities—after which his body was hung up on a beam or cross for all to see. Significant parallels with the Jesus of the gospels are inescapable. I argue that Christianity in fact goes back to Yeshu (as opposed to the invented figure, Jesus of Nazareth), who lived in the early part of the first century BCE. I also contend that Buddhism played a large role in Yeshu’s thinking and teaching.

Detering has not indicated that he ascribes to my theories regarding Yeshu. Nevertheless, his ‘Exodus’ article adds compelling arguments that substantiate a Buddhist-Christian connection. One should keep in mind that the differences between Buddhism and Christianity are supremely exaggerated by late developments, developments that most scholars falsely view as normative and early. However, when one probes into the earliest strata of these two great religions—before the Christian church councils on the one hand and the various Buddhist councils on the other—then striking resonances in ethics and teaching emerge. One doesn’t even have to study the texts to appreciate this. Fundamental similarities jump out—as, for example, that the putative founders of these two great religions were both homeless wanderers. Both even taught the excellence of that radically antisocial mode of life.

The field of comparative religion is old and broad. Until now, however, its investigators have (by definition) not been New Testament specialists. Many come from ‘the other side’—Indic specialists, Sanskritists, and Buddhologists. However—as Detering’s article will show—we are now seriously considering the influence of Buddhism on Christianity in the historical context of the West. I believe this is something new and is a significant step forward. Detering’s discoveries (particularly those involving the Therapeutae) may represent a turning point.

Structure of the article

The Gnostic Meaning of the Exodus and the Beginning of the Joshua/Jesus Cult

1. The gnostic view of the Exodus
2. “To the other side”—Buddhism and the Upanishads
3. Therapeutae, Buddhism, and gnosis
3.1 Review
4. Joshua, the Jordan, and the baptism of Jesus
4.1 Jesus, Joshua ben Nun, Dositheus, and the question of the “true prophets”
4.2 Ichthus—The meaning of the fish symbol in early Christianity
4.3 “…who will make the sun stand still” [Sib 5:258]
4.4 Jesus/Joshua as bringer of the vine—the Didache
4.5 Jesus/Joshua in the Epistle of Jude
4.6 The transfiguration of Jesus according to Mark
4.7 “Going forth to the other side”
4.8 The Church Fathers and the Old Testament
4.9 Miriam-Mary
5. Conclusion

If the above six points are correct, they arguably represent the greatest single contribution to the study of early Christianity yet to appear in this millennium.

Detering reaches additional conclusions, and those will also become evident in the twenty-four posts to follow. While I agree with the six points listed above, I must admit in advance that I am not in complete agreement with Dr. Detering on all his conclusions.

In the posts that follow, the reader will encounter a liberal dose of my own commentary interspersed with excerpts (translated by myself into English) from Detering’s article. These posts essentially present my views, using those of Dr. Detering as a springboard. I understand his article has been translated into English, but as far as I know the translation is not online.

I plan on uploading 1–2 posts per week. Thus, the 24 posts (they have already been drafted) should take 3–6 months to upload. In addition to a little bolding and underlining, there will be some color-coding: Detering’s material in brown, and particularly significant points in red.

One more thing: I don’t think your view of Christian origins will be the same after reading this series of posts, which is cumulative. For those who persevere to the end, your eyes will be opened.

Okay, let’s get started…

—RS

Highlights of this post:

• the New Testament must be dated to the second century CE
• Epiphanius identifies the pre-Christian Jessaeans with Philo’s Therapeutae, and the Therapeutae with early Christians
• According to Epiphanius, some Jewish pre-Christians “set themselves ablaze”
• Epiphanius shows that the Nazoraeans were in some way related to Indian monks

The later (Jesus mythicist) chronology

In these posts we are immersed in developments during the first century CE. This is a different world. Apparently there are “venerators of Joshua/Jesus” (a Semitic name roughly meaning “Y[ahweh] is Salvation,” BDB 221)—as Dr. Detering will claim later in his article. However, there were not yet “Christians” in the accepted sense of that word (see below). Both Detering and myself agree that in I CE there was no knowledge yet of Jesus of Nazareth (on this, see here and here).

If one accepts that Jesus of Nazareth was invented in the first half of II CE, then one wonders: who is meant by the use of “Christ/Messiah” before that time? We know, of course, that “Christ” is used literally hundreds of times in the Pauline epistles—that they certainly predate the gospels, as scholars universally agree. [NOTE: Four years after this post was written I radically alter my position and conclude that “the Pauline epistles as well as Acts were composed in the second half of II CE, after the appearance of the canonical gospels.”–R.S.] Therefore, without Jesus of Nazareth, to whom does the “Christ” of the epistles refer? Later on in this series (see here) I will suggest a rather surprising candidate.

And here we come to the redefinition of terms that must eventually challenge those who investigate Christian origins. “Jesus,” too, must be redefined. For, without the god-man from Nazareth, the suspicion grows that Jesus was a spiritual entity—“the Jesus,” and that it was no man at all—precisely as the ancient docetists claimed.

The word “Christ” (from which “Christian”) transliterates the Greek Xristos, which literally means “anointed one.” This, in turn, translates the Hebrew Meshiach (“Messiah”)—again, “anointed one.” Now, the Hebrew term is old, predating Christianity. It could refer to a human being (a king, a prophet, an exemplary figure) or, uniquely, to the eschatological Davidic messiah, who will come as judge at the end of time. One could also be anointed with oil for fairly banal occasions—the more casual usage of the term.

While Meshiach was already an old term at the turn of the era, the Greek Xristos was entirely new. It is specifically ‘Christian’ and comes encumbered with doctrinal baggage that is emphatically non-Jewish: the Christian “Christ” was God made man. The difference between Meshiach and Xristos encapsulates the fundamental difference between Judaism and Christianity: the former maintains strict separation between God and man, but the latter breaks down that barrier.

We also note, from this brief investigation of terms, that Christianity emerged as it left the Jewish sphere. It is no coincidence that the New Testament is in Greek—yet the vast majority of protagonists and venues are Israelite. In a fundamental sense, Jesus of Nazareth is a Hellenistic figure who moves among Jewish props. He is a divine man (theios anér) in an essentially foreign scene—Palestine. The evangelists use Jewish institutions, venues, and ideosyncrasies (as much as they know them in II CE) as accoutrements. The essential is the kerygma: the “proclamation” of the Son of God born of a virgin, who redeemed us through his death on the cross, and who arose from the grave to sit eternally at the right hand of God. That proclamation is entirely non-Jewish and very Greek. It is the heart of the euaggelion, the “good news”—another Greek term.

Acts 11:26 informs us that the disciples were first called “Christians” at Antioch. That renaming is conventionally dated to the middle of the first century CE. But a ‘mythicist chronology’ moves everything later—the invention of Jesus of Nazareth (early–mid II CE), the canonical gospels (probably 140–50 CE, in quick succession), and also the first use of the term “Christians” (early II CE?). The traditionalist will object that there exist several non-Christian textual witnesses to “Christ” and “Christian” stemming from the first and early second centuries CE. But Detering has written an entire book (Falsche Zeugen, 2011) examining the six ancient authors at issue, and he has shown all the pertinent passages to be bogus—later interpolations into the works of Josephus, Tacitus, Suetonius, etc. The upshot is that the term “Christian” probably arose about the same time as the Greek Xristos, and about the same time as the penning of the canonical gospels: early II CE.

‘Paul’ also is no obstacle to the mythicist chronology. His letters mention “Christ,” and “Jesus Christ” repeatedly. But “Paul” (his existence is also in doubt!) must likewise move to the second century: the mythicist consensus (Price, Detering, myself, some others) is that the Pauline epistles were first penned by Marcion’s school (cf. the Apostolikon), then ‘adapted’ by the Catholic Church. In summary, then, basically the entire New Testament must be dated to the second century CE. Surprisingly, the Revelation of John may be the earliest New Testament writing!

[For more on the new chronology, see here.]

The early “Jesus” believers

Like Acts, Epiphanius reports in the critical chapter 29 of his Panarion, “Against Nazoraeans,” that the first Jesus followers were not called “Christians.” But he furnishes more details. Epiphanius writes: “At that time all Christians were called Nazoraeans… They also came to be called ‘Jessaeans’ for a short while, before the disciples began to be called Christians at Antioch” (Pan. 29.1.2). If we delete “at Antioch” and replace that with “c. 125 CE” we are closer to the truth. With that later date in mind, we see that Epiphanius reports two names for pre-Christian believers: Nazoraeans and Jessaeans. The former, of course, suggests the evangelist Mark’s favorite moniker for Jesus: “the Nazarene” (usually mistranslated “of Nazareth” in our Bibles). The latter name, “Jessaean,” suggests the Essaioi (Essenes). And now we come to something very interesting—Epiphanius identifies these pre-Christian Jessaeans with Philo’s Therapeutae, and the Therapeutae with early Christians:

If you enjoy study and have read about them in Philo’s historical writings, in his book [sic] entitled “Jessaeans,” you may discover that, in his account of their way of life and hymns, and his description of their monasteries in the vicinity of the Marean marsh, Philo described none other than Christians… But Philo wrote all this of the faith and regimen of the Christians. (Pan. 29.5.1.)

All this is most revealing, and we will consider Detering’s lengthy examination of the Therapeutae in subsequent posts. (The highly provocative Essene angle, however—with possible links to early Christianity—must be left for another time.) If the foregoing were not surprising enough, Epiphanius then writes something absolutely astounding about these Nazoraeans—something that has been uniformly and assiduously ignored by scholarship: these Jewish pre-Christians “set themselves ablaze”! The passage from Epiphanius reads:

I mean the Nazoraeans, whom I am presenting here. They were Jewish, were attached to the Law, and had circumcision. But it was as though people had seen fire under a misapprehension. Not understanding why, or for {what} use, the ones who had kindled this fire were doing it—either to cook their rations with the fire, or burn some dead trees and brush, which are ordinarily destroyed by fire—they kindled fire too, in imitation, and set themselves ablaze. (Pan. 29.5.4–5, Williams translation.)

It is a very strange passage. Epiphanius obviously does not understand why some Nazoraeans “set themselves ablaze.” (One cannot really blame him!) In his desperate search for an explanation, he lamely supposes that they did so unintentionally—they simply did not know the proper use of fire (as if he were speaking of three-year old children). If he is writing allegorically (they “had seen fire under a misapprehension”), this may reveal a link to ‘fire worshippers,’ namely, Zoroastrians, whose priests were known as magi. This line of thought may not be entirely unfounded, for Simon Magus, according to the Pseudo Clementine literature, was an early disciple of John the Baptist—as was Jesus himself.

But Epiphanius does not seem to be writing allegorically, nor is he using the term “fire” symbolically. He writes “cook their rations” and “burn some dead trees and brush.” This shows that he is treating “fire” as the combustible, destructive, sensible force we all know. In that very real context, he then writes about Nazoraeans setting themselves ablaze!

Epiphanius’ passage immediately brings to mind a famous incident of the Indian monk who set himself on fire in the Athenian agora c. 20 BCE. Strabo (d. 24 CE) writes about the self-immolator in two places. In one, he identifies his name, “Zarmanochegas” (Geographia xv.1.73). From Strabo we also learn that Zarmanochegas was a gymnosophist. Gymnosophist” means “naked sage” in Greek, and the term referred specifically to ascetics from India.

In the other passage, Strabo writes: “From one place in India, and from one king, namely, Pandion, or, according to others, Porus, presents and embassies were sent to Augustus Caesar. With the ambassadors came the Indian gymnosophist, who committed himself to the flames at Athens, like Calanus, who exhibited the same spectacle in the presence of Alexander” (Geographia xv.i.4). Calanus was another famous gymnosophist, one of Alexander the Great’s many teachers who, while yet in Alexander’s retinue, immolated himself at Susa in 323 BCE.

Porphyry (late III CE) divided the gymnosophists into two groups: Brahmins (Vedic priests) and Samanaioi. The latter term signals Buddhist monks. In Pâli (the language of the earliest Buddhist texts), the masculine singular is Samano. To my ear, this is suspiciously similar to “Zarmano.”

In any case, when we connect the dots (as we will do periodically), the conclusion is inescapable: Epiphanius is clearly indicating (unintentionally, of course) that the ‘pre-Christian’ Nazoraeans were in some way related to Indian monks!

As if industriously digging his own grave, Epiphanius dilates further:

But besides, as I indicated, everyone called the Christians Nazoraeans, as they say in accusing the apostle Paul, “We have found this man a pestilent fellow and a perverter of the people, a ring-leader of the sect of the Nazoraeans” [Acts 24:5]. And the holy apostle did not disclaim the name—not to profess the Nazoraean sect, but he was glad to own the name his adversaries’ malice had applied to him for Christ’s sake. For he says in court, “They neither found me in the temple disputing with any man, neither raising up the people, nor have I done any of these things whereof they accuse me. But this I confess to you, that after the way which they call heresy, so worship I, believing all things in the Law and the prophets” [Acts 24:12–14].
And no wonder the apostle admitted to being a Nazoraean! In those days everyone called Christians this because of the city of Nazareth—there was no other usage of the name then. People thus gave the name of {“Nazoraeans”} to believers in Christ, of whom it is written, “He shall be called a Nazoraean” [Mt 2:23; Pan 29.6.2–5].

Here, then, Epiphanius derives the term “Nazoraean” from the settlement of Nazareth. (Ahem.) Putting aside the issue of Nazareth’s non-existence at the turn of the era, however, other than Epiphanius we have no record of residents of that august settlement setting themselves ablaze! Which is to say: Epiphanius has not furnished posterity with the best explanation for the derivation of “Nazoraean.” For that, we will have to look elsewhere.

Epiphanius soon returns to his original point: the early Christians had association neither with “Nazareth” nor “Nazoraean.” They were purely followers of Jesus: “Thus Christ’s holy disciples called themselves ‘disciples of Jesus’ then, as indeed they were. But they were not rude when others called them Nazoraeans…” (Pan. 29.6.7). This tells us that “Nazoraean” was a heretical appellation, one attached to the “holy disciples” by others and merely tolerated. Eventually it stuck because “our Lord Jesus was called ‘the Nazoraean’ himself ” (Pan. 29.6.7). It does not incommode Epiphanius in the least that “our Lord Jesus” was known by a heretical name! In any case, we note once again that the earliest Christians were not disciples of Jesus “of Nazareth,” of Jesus “the Nazarene,” or even of Jesus “the Nazoraean.” They were simply disciples of Jesus.

The question now arises: What did “Jesus” mean to those pre-Antiochene Christians? We will venture an answer in subsequent posts, for Dr. Detering will address this important question in his article.

A commentary on Dr. Hermann Detering’s “The Gnostic meaning of the Exodus and the beginning of the Joshua/Jesus Cult” (2017)

Abstract by Dr. Detering of the entire article:

In a gnostic interpretation, the Exodus motif has strong affinities with Buddhist-Indian conceptions. An investigation of where and when the thought systems of East and West converge—in this case, Hebrew scripture and Jewish tradition on the one hand, Buddhist and Indian spirituality on the other—leads to the Therapeutae, described by Philo of Alexandria in his De Vita Contemplativa. The Therapeutae were, in all probability, Jewish Buddhists/Buddhist Jews. Their central mysterium consisted of a nocturnal celebration of the Exodus, which they regarded as a passing over from the the sensual-material realm ( = Egypt) to the rational-spiritual realm ( = the wilderness/Holy Land). Strongly rooted in Jewish tradition, the Therapeutae venerated Moses above all, while closely related gnostic Christian groups such as the Peratae and Naasenes perpetuated traditions centered on Moses’ successor, Joshua. For these latter groups, Joshua/Jesus was the counterpart of Moses. The old cult of Moses was superseded and surpassed by the new, gnostic-Christian cult of Joshua-Jesus.

1a. The Gnostic interpretation of the Exodus: the Therapeutae

[Detering writes, p. 1] The departure of the Israelite people out of Egypt, described in the Book of Exodus (13:17–14:31), is an oft-repeated and central motif in the Old Testament (Deut 26:5ff, Ps 114:1ff, Isa 14:16, et multi)… Within Israelite orthodoxy, the Exodus was viewed as an explicitly historical event. Nevertheless, an allegorical interpretation first appeared in Alexandria and quite outside Jewish orthodoxy. According to Philo, the first century C.E. Jewish religious philosopher, Egypt is “the body,” the place of “passions which excite the body,” and of vice. Similarly, the Jordan is for Philo a symbol for tribulation. As regards Jacob’s statement, “For in my staff did I pass over this Jordan” (Gen 32:10), Philo explains:

Jordan means descent. And of the lower, and earthly, and perishable nature, vice and passion are component parts; and the mind of the ascetic passes over them in the course of its education. For it is too low a notion to explain his saying literally; as if it meant that he crossed the river, holding his staff in his hand. [Legum II.89; Scholer translation.]

For all this, Philo delineates only the general contrast between the sensual-material sphere (= Egypt/Jordan) and the mental-spiritual sphere ( = wilderness).

COMMENTARY—Water, water everywhere… (R. Salm)

We will take a brief hiatus from the exciting Buddhist-Christian connections signaled in the preceding post, including that of early Christian Nazoraeans “setting themselves ablaze.” Dr. Detering engages with Buddhism in his article, and we will return to that critical issue by and by. In this post, however, I begin a systematic response to Detering’s article.

The opening paragraphs above cover a lot of territory, and I’ll devote this and the next post to commenting on them. At the outset, let’s be clear that Detering is discussing allegory as used around the turn of the era, particularly in Alexandria, Egypt. Thus, he writes above: “an allegorical interpretation first appeared in Alexandria and quite outside Jewish orthodoxy.” An interesting thing about allegory is that common terms have associations that are, in fact, not common at all. So, Philo writes above: Egypt is “the body” and “Jordan means descent.” (In fact, “Jordan” in Hebrew does literally mean “descent”—more on this below.) In other words, we are dealing with a sort of code, and without any accompanying explanation, allegorical writing can be quite cryptic (cf. The Revelation of John). Philo famously indulged in allegory, but he usually ‘explains’ the code as he goes along for the benefit of his readers. Origen and many Church Fathers do the same. But the gnostics often did not explain their terms. They prided themselves in ‘knowing the code,’ in being apart—hence the intentionally cryptic nature of so many of their texts, which are truly “esoteric” (requiring special or privy knowledge).

In this article Detering focusses on the Exodus, and ‘getting to the other side’ plays a crucial, central role in the discussion. After all, the Exodus is a passage across (or through) water: the Israelites were successful in passing from one side to the other side of a body of flowing water, while the Egyptians were not. As discussed in Pt. 1 of this series, ‘reaching the other shore’ is common in both Buddhism and Christianity. It figuratively describes transcendence—ultimately, the transcendence of ‘death.’

For the gnostic, ignorance is death. It is no coincidence that the word “ignorance” occurs over and over in the Philosophumena’s (one of our main sources of information on gnostic sects) discussion of the Peratae, whose name loosely means “Those Who Belong to the Other Side.” Detering will discuss this sect later in his article. In relation to the Exodus, then, those Egyptians who died in the water died in ‘ignorance.’ This is part of the allegorical schema used by the Peratae. If we go one step further, then water = ‘ignorance.’

So, Philo views the “Jordan” as a place of tribulation, while the Peratae view water as “ignorance.” Detering discusses the views of both in his article, and also of an aspect of Buddhism where the metaphorical river is a place of disaster ‘to be crossed.’ All of these negative views of water are consistent with the allegory of crossing over, of transcendence.

Nevertheless, another tradition exists in Buddhism, as also in Gnosticism, where water is metaphorically good. The positive view, indeed, leads directly to the Christian sacrament of baptism, and it is critical that we understand it. The positive view is able to exist side-by-side with the negative view because they express the same thing in slightly different ways. In the scenario of crossing the river, the other shore is the goal (gnosis) and the river itself (water) is an impediment (variously: life, materiality, carnality, desire, ignorance). However, the conceptual background of baptism derives from a different scenario, one in which water is itself symbolic of gnosis. In this scenario, the metaphorical goal is to dip into or immerse in water. What I am getting at is that both scenarios are found in the ancient texts, and both are correct.

In this article, Dr. Detering focusses on the negative view of ‘water.’ He begins with Philo, above, and will proceed to consider the Peratae, Buddhism, and so on. This is all correct as far as it goes, but I believe it is insufficient. In this commentary I will be adding a contrasting view of water—one that is fundamental to understanding Christian origins.

It may come as a surprise to the reader that something as benign as the allegorical interpretation of ‘water’ could have any real importance. However, when we recognize that Jesus begins his ministry at his baptism (Mk 1:9 ff), then we must acknowledge the importance of immersion in water for the evangelists and for the early Jesus-followers. All the various Christian traditions—orthodox and heterodox—agree that baptism marks an end to the old and the beginning of something wonderful and new. It is a spiritual rebirth. Normative Christianity will define that rebirth (being “born again”) as having “faith” in Jesus, the Son of God. For the Gnostics however, the surviving texts reveal that baptism is something very different: the passage from ignorance to gnosis. That is the gnostic rebirth. From a gnostic viewpoint, then, dipping into water = being reborn = finding gnosis.

One inference from the above—if we take it seriously—is that the canonical gospels rest on a previously-existing gnostic substratum.

>>17082795
based, very aptly put

The Gnostic view of baptism is also evident in surviving snippets of Jewish-Christian gospel tradition. For example, a bright light (a universal symbol of wisdom) attends Jesus’ baptism in the Gospel of the Ebionites and in the Diatessaron. Gnostic texts sometimes contrast the ‘man of darkness’ (= before baptism) with the ‘man of light’ (= post-baptism). Thomas 24 contrasts the enlightened person (= who has ‘light’) with one who is ignorant (= lives in darkness). It reads: “There is light within a man of light, and it lights up the whole world. If it does not shine, it is darkness.” In the hardly known Two Books of Jeu (discovered in Upper Egypt), Jesus is equated with light and illuminating gnosis: “Lord Jesus, you living one, whose goodness is spread abroad on those who have found his wisdom [sophia] and his form in which he shines—O Light, that is in the light that has illumined our heart until we received the light of life—O true Word [logos], which through gnosis teaches us the hidden knowledge of the Lord Jesus, the living one” (see NTA 1991.I:371–72).

The Gospel of John makes much use of ‘light’ imagery. There, we read: “*I* am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life” (GJn 8:12). The Fourth Gospel effectively hijacks the entire gnostic concept of enlightenment by redefining the spiritual ‘Jesus’ as the god-man from Nazareth.

Materialism vs. Gnosticism

The Christian sacrament of baptism did not appear full blown around the turn of the era. The sacred view of water has a long prehistory going back even to the dawn of civilization. That prehistory, however, is more or less in esoteric/minority traditions, for the dominant priesthoods of every age were rarely gnostic. Indeed, they repudiated gnosticism. Thus we find, again and again, a metaphorical disparagement of not only water, but of the related gnostic symbols. In the Old Testament, Leviathan (the great water ‘dragon’) fights (and ever fails) against Yahweh. In Ugaritic literature, the deity Yam (“Sea”) fights (and fails) against Baal. And in Mesopotamia, the water god Enki was replaced by his son, the sky god Marduk.

The negative depiction of water/water deities ultimately signals the repudiation of gnosticism. This is why we encounter opposing views of ‘water’ from one ancient religious text to another. A few texts were pro-gnostic, while many more texts were anti-gnostic. In a sense, ‘water’ is at the heart of an ancient religious culture war, one between gnosticism and materiality, between peaceable water gods (espousing the way of gnosis) and sky/thunder gods (espousing the way of manifest power). We can trace this religious warfare though just about every century from the Bronze Age to Late Antiquity.

For the positive evaluation of water, one need only recall the long lost figure of Oannes (“John”), the half-man/half-fish who emerges out of the water to teach the arts and sciences to early Mesopotamia. Then, too, Enki—the divine friend of mankind—was a water god. His ‘home’ was the Abzu (literally: “deep/lower water”), imagined as the underworld ocean. From the earliest times—even before history—wisdom resided below (cf. the Paleolithic cave paintings), and to gain wisdom involved a descent to water. Interestingly, the Hebrew word for “Jordan” derives from the root YRD, “descend” (more on this significant datum in a later post). Enki’s underworld and watery home was symbolized in Bronze and Iron Age temples by means of a great metal cauldron holding sacred water—also known as the “Apsu/Abzu.” According to the OT, one such cauldron was even in the Temple of Solomon. All this validates an old and enduring religious tradition centered on the sacredness of water, a theme that long predates Judaism.

It is my contention that gnosticism is as old as religion itself. It is opposed, ultimately, by materialism. Of the two traditions, the gnostic seems to always come first—and is invariably defeated at the hands of one or another ‘majority’ religion with an organized priesthood, creator god(s), and state power. History bears this out time and time again.

In my view, the greatest religious teachers of the past (among whom I include Zoroaster, Buddha, and Yeshu ha-Notsri) were gnostic figures. Nevertheless, the ‘churches’ that derived from their teachings are priesthoods whose aim is to make themselves indispensable. So, the original teaching of “seek and find” becomes “follow us, believe what we tell you.” The metamorphosis from seeking to believing is a universal stage in religion. Christianity may be a textbook case of one religion moving away from gnosis and to ‘belief’ at the same time that a priesthood was forming: the second century CE. It is a necessary betrayal, for otherwise priesthoods would have no success among the masses. After all, the way of gnosticism is simply too difficult for ordinary people and hardly a message to insure success in ‘the world.’ The gnostic way is even odious, for it demands breaking attachments to things physical, calming desires, and (by and large) repudiating pleasure itself. Most people would object: All this is in return for what? The gnostic will reply simply: It is in return for understanding.
And He said, “The man is like a wise fisherman who cast his net into the sea and drew it up from the sea full of small fish. Among them the wise fisherman found a fine large fish. He threw all the small fish back into the sea and chose the large fish without difficulty. Whoever has ears to hear, let him hear.” (Gospel of Thomas 8; par. Mt 13:47–50; 45–46.)

And He said, “The man is like a wise fisherman who cast his net into the sea and drew it up from the sea full of small fish. Among them the wise fisherman found a fine large fish. He threw all the small fish back into the sea and chose the large fish without difficulty. Whoever has ears to hear, let him hear.” (Gospel of Thomas 8; par. Mt 13:47–50; 45–46.)

So, dipping into water, or reaching the other shore—both metaphors signal transcendence of ‘death’ and, in a gnostic context, the acquisition of hidden gnosis. Philo was clearly outside this gnostic tradition, as the citation above of Dr. Detering reveals. Philo belonged to the normative Jewish tradition that he intensively allegorized. It appears, however, that the Therapeutae may have belonged to the other tradition—the ‘gnostic.’ We will examine Detering’s views on the enigmatic Therapeutae—and their possible link to Buddhism—in subsequent posts.

Highlights of this post:

• both positive and negative views of water coexisted and opposed each other in pre-Christian mythology
• in many (proto-)gnostic traditions, water was a symbol of gnosis
• the negative depiction of water and water deities marks the repudiation of gnosticism
• the canonical gospels rest on a previously-existing gnostic substratum.

Sacred water and hidden meaning below the surface

In his treatment of the Exodus theme, Dr. Detering’s argument centers on the element of water and its allegorical interpretation. As noted in the preceding post, already in the third millennium BCE Elam had a sacred water ritual, and the Mesopotamian divinity Enki was Lord of water, of wisdom, and of creation. We may ask: Why was water used as a sacred symbol from such very early times?

One answer that immediately comes to mind is the emergence of agriculture. With the onset of farming in the Neolithic Period (c. 10,000–c. 3,000 BCE) water redoubled in importance. It was life not only for people but now also for crops.

That is certainly true. But even in Paleolithic times people necessarily lived close to water. Also, if they traveled any great distance they learned (or they learned from their neighbors, who learned from their neighbors) that progress would eventually be blocked by a vast and supremely impassable body of water—what we call a sea or an ocean. To Stone Age man lacking maps or globe, it really seemed like the earth is entirely surrounded by water. And indeed it is, for all the land masses are surrounded by water.

The watery ocean encompassing all man’s activities impacted more than mythical geography. When, in the Neolithic Period, people began to take more than passing notice of the sun, moon, and planets, they supposed those great celestial bodies rose each morning out of the great ocean beyond the eastern horizon. Then, in the evening, the celestial divinities descended back into the ocean, now in the west. This meant one thing: the home of the gods was the great, encompassing, ocean. Furthermore, because the gods emerged from below the eastern horizon and re-entered below the western horizon, our remote ancestors concluded that the ocean under our terrestrial earth was the home of the gods and the place of ultimate truth.

The above conception continued even into late antiquity, with the proviso that the sun more or less supplanted the moon in importance. Here are the words of Melito, Bishop of Sardis, writing c. 175 CE:

If you wish to observe the heavenly bodies being baptized, make haste now to the Ocean, and there I will show you a strange sight: outspread sea, and boundless main, and infinite deep, and immeasurable Ocean, and pure water; and sun’s swimming pool, and the stars’ brightening place, and the moon’s bath. And how they symbolically bathe, learn faithfully from me:
When the sun has with fiery chariotry fulfilled the day’s course, having in the whirling of his course become like fire and flared up like a torch, and when he has blazed through his course’s meridian, then as though reluctant, if he should appear close by, to burn up the land with ten radiant lightning shafts, he sinks into the Ocean.
Just as a ball of bronze, full of fire within, flashing with much light, is bathed in cold water, making a loud noise, and in the polishing process stops glowing; yet the fire within is not quenched but flares up again when roused: just so also the sun, inflamed like lightning, wholly undying bathes in cold water, but keeps his fire unsleeping; and when he has bathed in symbolic baptism, he exults greatly, taking the water as food. Though one and the same, he rises for men as a new sun, tempered from the deep, purified from the bath; he has driven off the nocturnal darkness, and has begotten bright day. Along his course, both the movement of the stars and the appearance of the moon operate… (Fragment 8b, in S. Hall, Melito of Sardis on Pascha, 1979:73.)

Belief in an encircling cosmic ocean was more or less universal until the scientific advances of the Renaissance. We still see it in an eleventh century Christian work:

God planted the Garden [of Eden] on the third day to the east of the land—at the easternmost limit of the earth beyond which nothing more is found except the water surrounding the whole world, beyond whose extremity begin the heavens. (The Struggle of Adam and Eve, Ethiopic version, beginning. See OT Pseudepigrapha, vol. 2, 1985:250; German text: A. Dillmann, Das Christliche Adambuch des Morgenlandes, Forgotten Books, 1853:13.)

The serpent

For early man, the journey to transcendence, truth, and divinity (especially undertaken by the shaman) was in the downward direction. Deep caves leading into the earth presented fortuitous openings and sacred avenues to the divine. In this context we should view paleolithic cave art, found in the dark, innermost recesses of mountains. That art witnesses to early man’s efforts at transcendence and communion with divinity.
Not only were caves holy, but the serpent—that master at navigating crevasses in the earth—was perhaps the first ‘sacred emissary’ (messenger, angel) from and to the divine realm below. Lacking lids, the serpent’s eyes are ever open—as if it is all-knowing. Furthermore, because it sloughs its skin, the serpent seems to have conquered death and to possess the secret of immortality. It is no coincidence that, in the imagery employed by Gnostics through the ages, the serpent is their preferred carrier of wisdom. Of course, in anti-Gnostic polemic the serpent is the ultimate villain.

In the virtually inaccessible Tsodilo Python Cave of Botswana, Southern Africa, a colossal serpent, twenty feet long and as high as a man, is carved in stone. The context is clearly sacred and the entire ensemble dates back about 70,000 years before the present. It may, indeed, be one of Homo Sapiens’ first works of ‘art.’ Interestingly, behind this giant serpent was a hidden shaman’s cubicle.

The foregoing teaches us that ‘primitive’ man was already developing quite abstract insights and that he was thinking allegorically. The serpent would only have had sacred meaning in a context such as that described above: the gods live below, and the serpent is their blessed emissary to man.

Passing through the upside-down vortex

Physiological and psychological factors (these have been well researched) buttress the above. There is not space here to enter into detail, but a profound feeling of falling/passing through a downward spiral accompanies the extensive loss of blood that attends the ‘near death experience.’ Having passed through the descending vortex (as reported even by modern victims—see Dr. Raymond Moody’s Life After Life), the now transcendent soul ‘on the other side’ approaches a loving, all-knowing ‘Being of Light.’ This experience is universal and ancient. Parallels between the Being of Light and Jesus of Nazareth are uncanny.
Stone Age cosmology can be summarized as follows: The divinities lived in a great watery home, one they left during the day and to which they returned at night. That watery home was below the earth and extended from horizon to horizon. It was imagined that the heavenly deities traveled from west to east during the night (reversing their course of the daylight hours), to re-emerge at the eastern horizon in the morning. The gods lived exclusively in the transcendent, watery realm. They moved placidly quite apart from this nasty, temporary, and brutish terrestrial existence.

>>17084526
Jesus loves you!

Evidently, our Stone Age ancestors had views contrary to those held today:
(1) Truth is metaphorically (and physically) not on high, but below. (Consider the etymologies of our words profound, fundamental, basic, the phrase ‘deep wisdom,’ and so on.) We moderns consider truth as that which is self-evident, in the open, and available to the senses for all to see. The ancients saw it otherwise: what is visible is a veil, a sham, a decoy (cf. the Buddhist concept of mâyâ). The truth is hidden and deep—just as is paleolithic art. It is obscured under what we can see, or even by what we can see.
(2) The gods were ‘at home’ during the night, after the sun returned into the ocean whence it came. Broadly speaking, our entire existence (whose activity takes place principally during the daytime) is a sort of aberration, mirage, or flight from reality (again, the Buddhist mâyâ comes to mind). Deep truth is most present at night—and particularly in dreams.
(3) The moon was exalted, for it dominates the night. Furthermore, the moon rules water—immediately noted by its pull on the tides.

The moon

In Bronze Age religion, the moon deity (Nammu, in Mesopotamia) was vastly superior to the sun, and the cool light of the night was superior to the hot light of the day. Ancient man was also endlessly amazed at the moon’s ability to shine in the darkness. The sun cannot do this. In fact, it must have appeared to our ancestors that the sun, for all its daytime hubris, simply abandoned mankind each night. That was precisely when the moon emerged as a friend, to guide our forefathers through the darkness. It is no coincidence that ‘gnostic’ movements through history have been devoted to the moon—from Enki (the Babylonian water-god), to Osiris (Egyptian moon god in the 18th Dynasty), to early Israelite veneration of the moon (on this, see here), to Nabonidus (sixth century devotee of the moon god Sin), etc. It can be argued that all these inclinations were gnostic, anti-materialistic, and also very much in the minority. The reigning priesthood of each era had a ready term for them: lunatics.

Yet the moon endlessly impressed and amazed our ancestors. They were thrilled at its ability to shine at night—that is, to produce its own light. This must have appeared unfathomable, wonderful, and quite heroic.

“Ani found it necessary to take the form of the god who produced light from his own person, for by this means he would be able to lighten the dark places and to travel through them in safety… He had the power to establish the light of the moon on the day of the full moon… The recital [by the priests] of this chapter [of the Egyptian Book of the Dead] enabled Ani to merge himself in the substance of the Moon-god, i.e., Osiris…” [E.A.W. Budge, The Book the Dead, 1960:311]

Monumentally impressive, too, was the quiet, inevitable, and unassuming manner in which the moon accomplished its daring mission of conquering the darkness. Each month, emerging after three days of inky blackness, the nocturnal orb began its victorious journey in the most inauspicious way—as the merest crescent of light. This sacred moment survives today on many flags of Arab countries—though the crescent’s original meaning has quite been forgotten. We are speaking of light conquering darkness, and no more apt metaphor exists for understanding conquering ignorance. (We should all bear this in mind the next time we read the Prologue to the Gospel of John.)

Beginning on the first day of the month, ancient man watched a celestial drama unfold as night after night the undaunted moon slowly waxed greater and greater. It was a mighty lesson—well, really a double-lesson, played out on the vast canvas of the sky: that we, too, must produce our own light, and that we, too, can overcome the darkness. Even immersed in total darkness, there is always hope. It is no wonder that the moon was man’s first divine friend and his trustworthy mentor.

Sunset on the first day of each month—the New Moon—was a time of great celebration among the common people. It was also the holiest event of the month. Some temples (especially those on hilltops, as at Petra), provisioned with the symbolic water of gnosis, were oriented to the eastern moonrise three days after the summer solstice. Why the summer solstice? Because that date marks the beginning of six months when the night (which is at its shortest) becomes longer, and the day shorter. Thus, the summer solstice is a ‘big brother’ analogue to each new moon, or lunar birth. Though June 21 is the day on which the sun shines most spectacularly, it is also the day marking the beginning of the sun’s decline. Metaphorically speaking, then, the beginning of the sun’s death is also the beginning of the moon’s birth.

And why the three days’ delay? One might say that, metaphorically, three nights of darkness take place before the new moon appears. Practically speaking, however, there is a several day delay in effect: though the solstices theoretically take place on Dec. 21 and June 21, the very slight changes in length of day/night are not suddenly appreciated. For this reason, the Roman mithraic celebration Dies Natalis Solis Invicti (“Birth Day of the Invincible Sun”) took place not on Dec. 21 but on Dec. 25, when the daylight hours are appreciably longer. The Christian Church appropriated that celebration for its birthday of Jesus.

The moon, water, and the Baptist

I now touch on a number of fairly startling observations, generally passed over in the literature. The first is that the summer solstice is the traditional birthdate of the great immerser, John the Baptist. To be precise, his nativity is celebrated three days later—on June 24—as if to allow for three days of darkness! Those three days, of course, are the ‘days in the grave’ between the last of the old moon’s light and the first light of the new moon—the resurrection.

Secondly, in Sardinia, Sicily, and other parts of the central Mediterranean, John’s birth is celebrated in midsummer by bathing in water (read: in gnosis) whereby one’s sins are forgiven. Then, too, a temple to John the Baptist at Marsala in Sicily is located over a spring whose water has magical properties. (On these and other interesting facts relating to veneration of the Baptist, see James Frazer, Golden Bough IV:246 f.)

Thirdly, June 24 is also the great feast of the god Adonis, when he metaphorically died (to great wailing of women), only to be resurrected after three days. Jerome anciently observed: “The one whom we call Adonis, he is named Tammuz in Hebrew and Syriac… In the month of June he is supposed to have died and then resurrected again, and for this reason the month is named Tammuz” (On Ezek. 8, Migne Lat. XXV.82).

Fourthly, Tammuz is a corruption of Dumuzi-Abzu, Sumerian for “True Son of the Deep Water.” (For the significance of “deep water,” please see above.)

All this is most intriguing, but it should be noted that we have not spoken of Jesus. We have spoken of John the Baptist’s birth, death, and resurrection! These events occur, nota bene, exactly six months from the birth of Jesus on the winter solstice—that is, as far away on the calendar as possible the one from the other!

Jesus of Nazareth now somewhat eerily enters into the picture—as an interloper. He was by tradition born in a cave of Bethlehem. However, that very cave (Jerome obligingly informs us) was dedicated by the heathen to the worship of Adonis. Jerome would have us believe that the ‘heathen’ secondarily transformed the cave to their use. But the increasingly regnant Christians would hardly have tolerated that! And if the heathen were second, then would not the cave still be dedicated to Adonis? Yet it is dedicated to the birth of Jesus. Finally, the cult of Adonis/Tammuz is most ancient, while that of the Christian relatively new. It is clear that Adonis was the first to be venerated in the Cave of Bethlehem, and that the Christian Church usurped both the veneration and the cave for Jesus.

Connecting the dots

We have now come full circle: In Christian times, John the Baptist replaced a most ancient water god. One would think it would be Jesus, not John! This is a hint—one of many—that Christianity was originally gnostic and centered not on Jesus of Nazareth but on the water cult of John the Baptist/Adonis.

In the posts thus far, water has been the common theme from Stone Age times to Late Antiquity—from the the great ocean ‘beyond’ (home of the celestial orbs), to veneration of the moon (which rules the tides), to the great feast day of the water god (Dumuzi-Abzu, Adonis, John the Baptizer) at the summer solstice.

And yet, in all of this long history, water is a powerful, unifying symbol. While the physical substance is ubiquitous, indispensable and life-giving, the spiritual symbolism of water is equally life-giving: gnosis.

Highlights of this post:

• in the ancient Levant water symbolized hidden wisdom/gnosis
• the ocean under our terrestrial earth was the place of ultimate truth and where the gods lived
• the serpent was the first ‘divine emissary’ between gods and man
• though real, the material world is not where true meaning is found
• truth is on ‘the other side’ of a downward, tumultuous vortex
• long ago, the moon divinity ruled both gnosis and water
• the moon was man’s divine friend and spectacular mentor
• traditionally, the feasts of the moon’s light, of John the Baptist, and of Adonis coincide (June 24)
• Christianity was originally gnostic and centered not on Jesus of Nazareth but on the water cult of John the Baptist–Adonis.

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This the shizo thread?

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>>17083988
Bullshit. Oannes is Adapa, the first of the seven Apkallu whose biblical counterpart is Adam. The last Apkallu is Utuabzu, "who ascended to heaven", like Enoch. Among them are five other Apkallu that exactly match the five antediluvian biblical patriarchs between Adam and Enoch. The Apkallu were priests of Ea/Enki (known as Dagan in West Mesopotamia) who brought divine knowledge to the ancient Sumerians and whose main symbols were the Fish, a Bucket/Cone of Water and the Tree of Life.

>The spread of the 'seven sage' legend westwards during the 1st and 2nd millennia has been speculated to have led to the creation of the tale of the Nephilim (Genesis 6:1-4) as recounted in the Old Testament, and may have an echo in the text of the Book of Proverbs (Prov 9:1): "Wisdom built her house. She set out its seven pillars." The story of Enoch ("seventh from Adam") and his ascension to heaven has also been proposed to be a variant or influenced by the seventh apkallu Utuabzu who is also said to have ascended to heaven in the bit meseri

Abraham is a late deformation of the Amorite personal name Abiram "my father (is) exalted". The first part אב (Ab) means "father" but the root רהם is unknown in Semitic and led to much speculation. As for אברם (Abram), it means "exalted father" and is probably a misinterpretation of the Amorite name אבירם (Abiram) "my father is exalted". Even fucking Yahweh is of Amorite origin.

>Lewis connects the name to the Amorite element yahwi- (ia-wi), found in personal names in Mari texts, meaning "brings to life/causes to exist" (e.g. yahwi-dagan = "Dagon causes to exist")

The deep lore is that the likes of the Amorites and Akkadians saw themselves as descended from the legendary Bull/Bison figure (DIDANU/Kusarikku) linked to Ninurta was the guardian of the Abzu (Primordial Waters) and King of the Rephaim in Mesopotamian/Canaanite tradition (Fun Fact: The word Titan in Greek Mythology comes from Tidanu, the tribe of Didanu).

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>>17084725
Didanu is which related to the stars of Centaurus (called EN.TE.NA.BAR.CHUM that means "Wild Boar", star of NIN.GIR.SU, Ninurta in Sumerian) and in that sense guarded the mysteries of the deep, the seven sages as teachers and developers of humanity were understood as emerging from the Abzu, and were also non-human before the hybrid scribe and scholar classes became seen as entirely human, these the Ab-gal/Apkallu, great one of the deep, who taught the Tree of Life to the Sumerians.

>In the El-Amarna Tablets

>The earliest historical notices respecting Jerusalem come from the El-Amarna tablets. Before the fifteenth century B.C. Babylonian influences must have been present. There was a city called "Bit-Ninib" (Temple of the God Ninurta) in the "district of Jerusalem "(Letter 180, 25)

>Like all gods who were "sons", Ninurta was originally also Tammuz, son of the Earth-mother, and died each year with perishing vegetation. Few traces of his connection with that myth and cult remain, as it was almost entirely suppressed by the Tammuz cult. The most direct survivals are the myths of Lil and Nintur and of Marduk and Ishtar, both of which correspond to Tammuz and Ishtar. Ab-ú or Eš-ú, one of the principal titles of Tammuz, is also a title of Ninurta. Ninurta was regent of the month Tammuz and has also the title Ni(n)kilim, "Lord of swine," in the earliest Sumerian texts

>The cult of Nikilim spread to the west, where he was worshipped at an unknown site, Diniktu. The Accadian word for "pig", humuşiru, is used as a title for Ninurta, and is followed by another title, sugannunna, "lord of the sea coast", by which Phoenicia is probably meant. Aramaic transcriptions of the name NIN-IB in the Persian period give the pronunciation Anushat, or Anmasht, or Enmasht, or Ennammasht

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>>17084742
>When we take into consideration that kilim, "pig", is also rendered by nammashtu, "small cattle", probably also in a special sense "swine", it is possible that Ninurta's title may be Ennammasht, "Lord of swine". It is, therefore, certain that the pig was sacred to Ninurta, and possible that he was known both in Babylonia and throughout the West as "Lord of Swine"

>The cult of Ninurta spread to the West in early times, and a temple of Ninurta at Gebal is mentioned in the fifteenth century, It was precisely at Gebal that the famous legend of the annual wounding by a boar, in the wild and mountainous valley of the Adonis, was told. The seal (Fig. 58) from Kish, where Ninurta’s principal cult under the name Zamama as War-god existed from prehistoric times, may possibly be connected with a legend of the killing of Nikilim by a wild boar

>The meaning of the scene is obscure, and the figure of the person lancing a spear from the top of a palm tree may not be a deity. It may be connected with the motif of the Sun-god appearing from a tree discussed in Chapter There was also a city, Beth-Ninurta, near Jerusalem, in the same period. Since the god Damu, a regular title of Tammuz, was also a deity of Gebal, and since Damu also appears for Gula, wife of Ninurta, it is obvious that not only the Adonis cult of Gebal was borrowed from the Tammuz cult of Sumer, but that Ninurta, Nikilim, “the lord of swine,” has a direct connection with the Sumerian and Phoenician cults of the dying god

>>17084704
ten thousand parrots trying to retell the achievements of the pirate whose ship they're too lazy to fly away from.

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>>17084725
>>17084742
>>17084749
>"He finds the man is possessed by a multitude of demons who give the collective name of "Legion". Fearing that Jesus will drive them out of the world and into the abyss, they beg him instead to cast them into a herd of pigs on a nearby hill, which he does. The pigs then rush INTO THE SEA and are drowned." (Mark 5:1–5:13)

>Legion was the term for a unit of the Roman army that included five thousand men and an equal number of auxiliary troops! The army of ten thousand that Rome used to subdue Palestine—and eventually destroy Jerusalem—was the Tenth Legion. The symbol of this hated occupying force was a pig. Formed by Julius Caesar around 61 (or 59) BCE, during his stint as the governor of Hispania, the Tenth Mounted was Caesar's first command. Like Caesar's other legions, the Tenth had a bull as its emblem

>In ancient times, the constellation was considered an asterism within Centaurus, and was thought to have been an arbitrary animal, killed, or about to be killed, on behalf of, or for, Centaurus. Hipparchus of Bithynia named it Therion (Medieval Latin: Fera meaning "beast") in the 2nd century BC

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>>17084781
>The Greek constellation is probably based on the Babylonian figure known as the Mad Dog (UR.IDIM). This was a strange hybrid creature that combined the head and torso of a man with the legs and tail of a lion (the cuneiform sign 'UR' simply refers to a large carnivore; lions, wolves and dogs are all included)

>In the Lupercalia, the Lupercal cave acted as a passage to the Underworld. The Luperci came out of the cave at the beginning of their run and returned there at the end of it. Symbolically, the Luperci arrived from the Underworld and went back to their ancestors when the purification ritual was finished. It is worth notic- ing that a cave also appears in the birth legend of the Hirpi Sorani. In addition, on some Etruscan urns there is a wolf-like demon emerging from a well

>The Sky Beast Rising over the Land, 13:1-18: We have noted that the best candidate for the Land Beast is the constellation in the southern sky called simply "the Beast" (in Greek therion). As Aratus notes: "He (Centaur) ever seems to stretch his right hand toward the round Altar, but through his hand is drawn and firmly grasped another sign-the Beast, for so men of old have named it" (Phenomena, 439-41). Nowadays this constellation is labeled the Wolf (Lupus). This Land Beast has two lamb's horns. Horns of celes

>The Beast (Koinē Greek: Θηρίον, Thērion) may refer to one of three beasts described in the Book of Revelation

>In Revelation 13:1–10, the first beast (interpreted as the Antichrist) rises "out of the sea" and is given authority and power by the dragon. It is the image of this beast that persecutes God's people in the second part of Revelation 13 and it is the name of this beast that is put on the foreheads of his followers (Rev 13:16-17). It is described as having features of a leopard, a lion, and a bear, which are three of the animals in Daniel 7, implying that it is a successor of those animals

It is easy to become wearied of the many sects and names that populate the history of religion. This and the next post mention the Therapeutae, Mandaism, Falasha, Zoroastrianism, Manichaeism, Gnosticism, Buddhism… Yet, I maintain that different times and places often had different names for the same thing—in this case, for the path to the knowledge of life (literally, Manda d’Haije in Mandaic). I advise the reader to focus on the unity of underlying doctrine and outlook, rather than on the quite misleading plethora of names. In this way, s/he will better appreciate Dr. Detering’s bold attempt to build a cross-cultural and cross-religious bridge between East and West, one based on an examination of the Exodus, of ‘crossing over,’ and of reaching ‘the other side.’

For the historian of religion, the nature and expression of belief are more important than sectarian names.
—R. Reitzenstein, Die Vorgeshichte der Christlichen Taufe (1929:258)

Note: Dr. Detering’s original writing (translated, paraphrased, or summarized) follows in brown.

The lengthy first section of Detering’s paper, under the rubric “The Gnostic View of the Exodus,” extends to twelve pages. This part of his paper is ground-breaking, for scholarship has heretofore hardly cared about how the Gnostics viewed the Exodus. For Detering, however, the issue is critical. He argues not only that the Exodus motif was central to Gnostic thought, but also that it was central to the emergence of Christianity. For Detering, it all has to do with the concept of “crossing over.”

In order, Detering reviews how the Exodus was viewed by: the Therapeutae, Simon Magus, the Peratae, the Naasenes, The Testimony of Truth (NHL IX.3), The Gospel of Truth (NHL I.3), the Odes of Solomon, and the Mandean Book of John. In this and the next post, we consider a possible lynchpin between East and West: the enigmatic ‘sect’ of Therapeutae.

The Therapeutae—Pt. 1 Summary of the evidence

The group considered itself “the people at the Red Sea.” It understood, in the passage across that body of water, the great mystery itself: the passage from death to life. From Philo’s description (our only surviving source) we know that the Therapeutae re-enacted the passage across the sea in overnight singing and dance (De Vita, 83 ff). Philo’s passage reads:

(85) Then, when each chorus of the men and each chorus of the women has feasted separately by itself, like persons in the bacchanalian revels, drinking the pure wine of the love of God, they join together, and the two become one chorus, an imitation of that one which, in old time, was established by the Red Sea, on account of the wondrous works which were displayed there; (86) for, by the commandment of God, the sea became to one party the cause of safety, and to the other that of utter destruction; for it being burst asunder, and dragged back by a violent reflux, and being built up on each side as if there were a solid wall, the space in the midst was widened, and cut into a level and dry road, along which the people passed over to the opposite land, being conducted onwards to higher ground; then, when the sea returned and ran back to its former channel, and was poured out from both sides, on what had just before been dry ground, those of the enemy who pursued were overwhelmed and perished.
(86) When the Israelites saw and experienced this great miracle, which was an event beyond all description, beyond all imagination, and beyond all hope, both men and women together, under the influence of divine inspiration, becoming all on chorus, sang hymns of thanksgiving to God the Savior, Moses the prophet leading the men, and Miriam the prophetess leading the women.

Philo goes on to show how the Therapeutae, in their singing, re-enacted the exhilarated song of the Israelites after having crossed over.

COMMENTARY [R.S.]

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>>17082742
>Who exactly was John The Baptist
Most important man in history after Christ himself.

Both Eusebius and Epiphanius surprisingly considered the Therapeutae to be early Christians. In fact, that view was not challenged until well into the 19th century. More recently, however, the view that the Therapeutae were once looked upon as early Christians has been something of an embarrassment and generally ignored by scholarship.

The reason is clear: if the Therapeutae had anything to do with Christianity, then the entire chronology of Christian beginnings is immediately in jeopardy. After all, if Jesus died c. 33 CE, then how could Philo (d. ca. 50 CE) write about a sect of Alexandrian Christians already contemporary with Jesus? Paul had not yet written his letters, and the Gospel of Mark was still well in the future. Moreover, for Philo, the Therapeutae are no Johnnies-come-lately. He already found them “in many places” (point i below), including in “every one of the districts [of Egypt], or nomi as they are called” (Vita 21).

Hence, scholars simply assume that Eusebius and Epiphanius were mistaken—the Therapeutae were obviously not Christians! The alternative is unthinkable and forces us to accept that Christian chronology is wrong. Jesus did not die c. 33 CE. And the most provocative allegation of all: The ‘Christian’ movement already predated the turn of the era by several generations. All these problems disappear if one proposes (as I do) that the true founder of Christianity was Yeshu ha-Notsri (crucified c. 75 BCE). Of course, scholars, Bible-thumpers, and pastors worldwide won’t go there.

But we must go there. Dating Christian beginnings several generations earlier accommodates the data, pure and simple. It accommodates Philo’s ‘Christian’ Therapeutae, and also other anomalies in the literature: Epiphanius’ view that the sect of the Nasarenes was “pre-Christian” (Pan. 18), R. Bultman’s view that the Mandeans were “pre-Christian,” and R. Reitzenstein’s argument that Philo’s view of baptism depends already on the practice of the Mandeans (Die Vorgeschichte Der Christlichen Taufe, 1929:105) and that, hence, the Mandeans were pre-Christian. (Were the Mandeans, in fact, the Nasarenes of Epiphanius? Hmmm…)

Given that a theory is supposed to accommodate as much data as possible, then an earlier beginning to Christianity must now be seriously considered. Unfortunately, in order to accept such an earlier chronology, one must: (1) reject the historicity of Jesus of Nazareth; and (2) look upon the canonical gospels as fabulous, or even as fables.

What do we know about the Therapeutae?

Philo’s description of the Therapeutae has given rise to all sorts of theories—they were Christians, they were Jews, they were both, they were neither, and now (Detering) they were “Jewish Buddhists.” One would think there would be more agreement, given that Philo wrote only nine pages (in Yonge’s translation) on the sect—and two of those pages (sections 40–64) are a rambling excursus on the debauched eating habits of “others… full of trifling and folly.” The following is what Philo actually tells us about the Therapeutae:

Characteristics of the Therapeutae

(a) they are meditative (given to the “speculative life”)
(b) they are healers of both body and soul
(c) they serve a “living” God who is “superior to the good, and more simple than the one, and more ancient than the unit” [Vita 2]
(d) they are free from passion, and hence “completely happy” [6]
(e) they are trained in insight, “being continually taught to see without interruption, [they] may well aim at obtaining a sight of the living God” [11]
(f) they are ecstatics, “give way to enthusiasm, behaving like so many revellers in bacchanalian or corybantian mysteries, until they see the object which they have been earnestly desiring” [11]
(g) they think “that their mortal life has already come to an end” [This is ‘realized eschatology’–RS]
(h) they “leave their possessions to their sons and daughters” [13] and consider that “an undue care for money and wealth causes great waste of time” [15]
(i) they are found “in many places,” but principally around Alexandria in Egypt [21]
(j) they “study the laws and the sacred oracles of God… by reason” [25]
(k) they are pure “even in their dreams” and speak oracles even in sleep [26]
(l) the outward senses and world (= materiality) mean nothing to them [26]

(m) they meditate on the scriptures and “unfold and explain the symbols, bringing the secret meaning naked to the light” [28, 78]; yet they also “explain with minute accuracy the precise meaning of the laws” [31]
(n) they possess writings “of ancient men” [29]
(o) they are in seclusion for six days, and come together on the seventh day [30]
(p) they are both men and women [32]
(q) they are given to fasting [32]; “they eat only so far as not to be hungry, and they drink just enough to escape from thirst, avoiding all satiety as an enemy of and a plotter against both soul and body” [37. This is very Buddhist.–RS]
(r) they abjure ornaments, and wear simple clothing “just stout enough to ward off cold and heat” [38. Also very Buddhist.–RS]
(s) they are particularly concerned with truth and falsehood [39]
(t) their great feast is on the fiftieth day, when they come together wearing white garments and celebrate the sacred festival during the whole night [65, 66, 83]
(u) in hierarchy, “they do not look on those as elders who are advanced in years and very ancient, but in some cases they esteem those as very young men” [67]
(v) they esteem chastity and their women are virgins “out of an admiration for and love of wisdom” and “hating the allurements of pleasure with all their might” (68-69) [This reveals the essence of encratism, i.e., the belief that pleasures and understanding are mutually incompatible.–RS]
(w) they reject wine (“the medicine of folly”) and meat [73]

Analysis

Parallels between the Therapeutae and normative Christianity. Comparison of the above list with New Testament/Pauline Christianity reveals surprisingly little overlap. One can, of course, point to vacuous commonalities, such as that the Therapeutae are “both men and women” (p), and they are found “in many places” (i). Nor is point (c) particularly revealing: though Johannine christology presents the pre-existant Logos of God, Philo intimates that the conception of the Therapeutae goes beyond good and evil (“superior to the good”)—a rather different issue that transcends the concept of a “good God.” Also, the word “living” was code for “true, authentic” in gnosticism and may apply here. For example, the “living” water of Mandean writings refers to the flowing or “true” (read: spiritual) Jordan, that is, gnosis.

One might suppose that point (h) offers a parallel with early Christianity, but it too is not close. At Acts 2:45–46 we read that “All who believed were together and had all things in common; they would sell their possessions and goods and distribute the proceeds to all, as any had need.” Philo, however, tells us that the Therapeutae “leave their possessions to their sons and daughters” and consider that “an undue care for money and wealth causes great waste of time” [13, 15].

Point (f) above may offer a possible parallel with evangelicalism in New Testament Christianity. Paul mentions ecstatics several times, i.e., those who “speak in tongues” and who “prophesy” (1 Cor 13:8 & pars). But the resemblance is not close, for Philo describes not those who engage in prophecy but those who revel. Philo’s language (until they “see” the awaited “object”) almost suggests induced hallucination. It reminds one of later Sufi whirling, undertaken to reach “the source of all perfection, or kemal.” Yet point (f) conflicts with the sober and meditative tone of Philo’s other descriptions. We can perhaps reconcile this contradiction by supposing that a special catharsis via movement and singing occurred among the Therapeutae at a great communal celebration each fifty days.

Parallels between the Therapeutae and heterodox Christianity. Certain characteristics of the Therapeutae are strongly evocative of Jewish Christian sectarianism, most especially (q) “given to fasting”; (v) esteeming chastity; and (w) rejection of wine and meat. What we know about James the Just encompasses all of these (Eusebius, H.E. II 23.4 f). According to Epiphanius, the Ebionites and the Nasarenes (pre-Christian followers of Jesus) were vegetarian, and the Ebionites “honored virginity on account of James” (Pan 30.2.6). Also, point (g) is “realized eschatology,” espoused by the Cerinthians and by some Gnostic writings in the Nag Hammadi corpus.

In the next post we consider the astonishingly large number
of parallels between the Therapeutae and Buddhism.—R.S.

>>17082923
Retards gonna ree.

>>17082743
it wasn't

A potentially cool thread ruined by a schizo spammer posting a bunch of shit no one will ever read.

The Therapeutae—Pt. 2 Extensive parallels between the Therapeutae and Buddhism

The preceding post closed by pointing out a number of interesting parallels between Philo’s description of the Therapeutae and heterodox (Jewish) Christianity. On the other hand, we found very few (if any) parallels with what would become orthodox (gentile) Christianity. This is rather surprising. But far more remarkable is that of the numerous characteristics described by Philo, half are fully compatible with Buddhism, six more are at least partially compatible, and only two—points (f) and (t)—are clearly incompatible. In short, 21 of the 23 points signaled by Philo in his description of the Therapeutae resonate wholly or at least partially with Buddhism. What this means is that the Therapeutae were far more compatible with ‘distant’ Buddhism than with orthodox Christianity, heterodox Christianity, or Judaism.

There is not space here to discuss each of the 23 points individually, and we’ll touch only on the highlights. The most important may be the very first point (a): both the Therapeutae and Buddhists are “meditative.” It is well known that Buddhism is the religion of meditation. At the same time, neither Christianity nor Judaism has any special interest in meditation.

Point (e) is related to meditation and may be even more revealing: the Therapeutae “are trained in insight.” This is most interesting, because training in insight has always been one of the two major pathways of Buddhist meditative practice—known as vipassana. The other major pathway is samatha (calming the mind). In Theravada teaching (that is, in the oldest school of Buddhism to survive), samatha is preliminary to vipassana. That is, calming the mind is a necessary prerequisite to insight.

Asceticism. Four points on the list can be grouped together under the rubric “asceticism” (h, q, r, w). Points (q) and (r) closely mirror Buddhist praxis and read like paraphrases directly from the Buddhist sutras. According to Philo’s point (r), the Therapeutae wear simple clothing “just stout enough to ward off cold and heat” (Vita 38). The Buddhist equivalent is: “Here a monk, reflecting wisely, uses the robe only for protection from cold, for protection from heat…” (Majjhima Nikaya 2.13). In the same paragraph Philo writes that the Therapeutae “are not decorated with any ornaments.” This mirrors the eighth precept in Buddhism: “I undertake the precept to refrain from wearing garlands, using perfumes, and beautifying the body with cosmetics.”

In Philo’s words, the Therapeutae “eat only so far as not to be hungry, and they drink just enough to escape from thirst, avoiding all satiety as an enemy of and a plotter against both soul and body” (point q). With the same color coding, here is the standard passage, oft repeated in the Buddhist scriptures:

Reflecting wisely, [the monk] uses alms food neither for amusement nor for intoxication nor for the sake of physical beauty and attractiveness, but only for the survival and continuance of this body, for ending discomfort, and for assisting the holy life… (Majjhima Nikaya 2.14)

The ascetic point (w) is also very Buddhist: the Therapeutae reject wine (“the medicine of folly”) and meat (Vita 73). The parallel Buddhist tenth precept is as follows: “I undertake the precept to refrain from intoxicating drinks and drugs which lead to carelessness.” In Buddhism, then, the avoidance of intoxicants and meat is in order to foster correct behavior (avoid “carelessness”) and, ultimately, mental focus. This seems to parallel Philo’s reason for the Therapeutic lifestyle:

… for just as right reason commands the priest to offer up sober sacrifices, so also [the Therapeutae] are commanded to live sober lives, for wine is the medicine of folly, and costly seasonings and sauces excite desire, which is the most insatiable of all beasts. (Vita 73–74, emphasis added)

Thus, we have here a double parallel: both in content and in motive. This similarity between the Therapeutae and Buddhism is only half of the equation, however. The other half is the remarkable dissimilarity to both Judaism and normative Christianity. One simply does not encounter a wholesale rejection of wine and meat in Judaism (apart from the temporary vow of the Nazirite). Fundamentally, the abstinence of Buddhists and Therapeutae runs counter to the basic Jewish love of life and acceptance of all things God has created as good. Dr. Detering will argue that the Therapeutae were “Jewish Buddhists”—and I will agree. But what we are clearly dealing with are “Jews” who have moved far from normative Judaism! Furthermore, in considering the various “Jewish Christian” sects, we must now potentially view them from this new Buddhist perspective. For (as we saw in the preceding post) the elements that separate Jewish Christianity from both orthodox Judaism and normative Christianity are precisely those ascetic elements that link them to Buddhism: (q) “given to fasting”; (v) esteeming chastity; and (w) rejection of wine and meat.

Point (h) is also non-Jewish yet very Buddhist: the Therapeutae “leave their possessions to their sons and daughters” (Vita 13) and consider that “an undue care for money and wealth causes great waste of time” (Vita 15). With all due respect, one can only smile at the profound non-Jewishness of considering care for money and wealth a “great waste of time”! On the other hand, such abstemiousness is profoundly Buddhist: “I undertake the precept to refrain from accepting gold and silver (money).” In such ways, then, Judaism and Buddhism are fundamentally opposed.

Encratism. This is related to asceticism. Encratism (< Gk. egkrateia, “continence”) stems from the view that passion is to be avoided. In Buddhism, passion and desire (tanha) are directly opposed to mental insight (vipassana). Philo notes three characteristics of the Therapeutae that fall under the encratite rubric:

(d) they are free from passion, and hence “completely happy” (Vita 6)
(k) they are pure “even in their dreams” and speak oracles even in sleep (26)
(v) they esteem chastity and their women are virgins “out of an admiration for and love of wisdom” and “hating the allurements of pleasure with all their might” (68-69)

All this is quite un-Jewish—yet also quintessentially Buddhist!

Healers. Philo notes that the Therapeutae “are healers of both body and soul.” It is not well known that the Buddhist missionaries that King Asoka sent westwards c. 250 BCE were charged with healing both man and beast (Rock Edict 2). This, of course, may have some link to the name “Therapeutae.”

Realized eschatology. Buddhism has no belief in the afterlife, nor in an enduring soul. The goal of enlightenment is here, in this life. Gnosis is to be realized through vipassana. Philo may intimate something along these lines in point (g): the Therapeutae think “that their mortal life has already come to an end.” In other words, the Therapeutae have already ‘crossed over’ to a better, transcendent existence. This view will be expanded by certain Gnostic sects who believed that even in his physical lifetime one can enter the kingdom by conceiving the light within. This is, of course, baptism in the ‘water’ of gnosis (sometimes represented as the sacrament of the bridal chamber or holy marriage, hieros gamos).

Emptiness of materiality. Philo writes that, for the Therapeutae, the outward senses and world “mean nothing to them” (Vita 26). Once again, this view is not at all Jewish. In Buddhism, however, the material is fraught with seductive danger and should be viewed as a great decoy. I offer one citation (from Buddhist and Christian Parallels, chp. 8):

Sights, sounds, tastes, smells, and tangibles, Yea, all impressions and ideas thereof— These are the direful bait that draws the world, Therein the world lies infatuated. If they go beyond all this, leave it behind, The Buddha’s followers with mind aware Pass beyond the range of the devil’s might. Like the glorious sun do they shine Filling the world with light. (Sam.Nik. 1.4.17)

Other. To the above may be added several possible parallels between the Therapeutae and Buddhism (points c, j, n, m, o and u). In these cases, Philo does not furnish enough information for certainty.

In only two cases does Philo signal clearly non-Buddhist attributes of the Therapeutae. One has to do with the overnight singing and dancing that Philo ostensibly witnessed on the ‘fiftieth day.’ Remarkably, this ceremony has proto-gnostic roots predating even Buddhism. We will examine those roots in the next post.

>>17082742
Haven't you heard he was a Mandean.

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Thoughts?

>>17087373
The question (for those who credit the Palestinian origin, like I do and I think the most serious Mandaeism scholars do) is, was their community Christian, or were they truly followers of John and not Jesus? My thought is, why couldn't they be both? I imagine a community of Palestinians related to John's ministry, some of which were Sethians, who covered the full spectrum of opinion about Jesus. As orthodox Christianity developed and situated itself over and against heterodoxy and certainly any who followed John but rejected Jesus, they broke with Christianity and developed the anti-Christian polemic you see in their sources. Paul's epistles attest to communities where some slavishly follow Paul and some outright reject his doctrines. It seems to me scholars are too insistent that there must have always been one Mandaean orthodoxy for all subjects, and the only thing in question is how it developed.

He was Elijah who returned after going to heaven. He took on a new name to hide his identity.

>>17084532
The Son is the Sun. The Light of the World. He is Risen!

The Astrotheology in the OT/NT adds even more depth and anderstanding as all forms of "religion"/"divination" looked to the stars for "signs and portents". Jesus's own birth, and death for that matter, is heralded by various astronomical phenomena and the dates of his birth/re-birth on the Solstices is no accident either. There are countless other examples and many Zodiacs, featuring Helios/Sol Invictus/(the Sun) have been found in Synagogues throughout the Levant.

>>17084700

Luke 22:10 "And he said unto them, Behold, when ye are entered into the city, there shall a man meet you, bearing a pitcher of water; follow him into the house where he entereth in."

The "water bearer" is, of course Aquarius/Ganymede. The Great Year following Jesus's own Piscean Age (Hence, the fish/fisherman symbolism and language).

"This is the dawning of the Age of Aquarius...."

We're still on the cusp of the "New Age", but we can all feel it in the cosmological air, so to speak.

>>17082742
He was a Christian.
Christianity was around for like 300 years before the Christ came.
Mary and Joseph were Christians. But you'll not comprehend that if you think Christianity is what people say it is today.

>>17082742

Did John The Baptist baptize according to the Trinitarian formula?

>>17082742
There's no hard evidence John the Baptist existed.