The Bible as a detective story

And this isn't a trivial quibble. It's not like the translation of Matthew replacing the impious "to disgrace" with the respectable "to announce"—even though modern Russian ‑doesn't even have such a word. No, this is serious—did the angel really speak to Mary in ‑Greek? As with Matthew's "he wanted to send her away secretly," the author, in his fantasy, fails to realize that the ancient Jews certainly wouldn't have washed down their hamburgers with Coca-Cola.

Further, “When she saw him, she was troubled by his words and wondered what kind of greeting this might be.”

Have you, dear reader, ever ‑had an angel appear to you? Unfortunately, I haven't. But let's imagine what it would have been like. Either the angel looks like an ordinary person, and Maria assumed it was just a stranger entering her house, or, conversely, he looks like some completely unearthly being—for example, he glows with a blinding radiance, his face sparkles like lightning, and she immediately realizes he's an angel.

Now look at Mary's reaction, as described by the author. It's quite clear that the angel looked like a man. He entered the house, greeted her politely, but then said something extremely unusual—so much so that Mary "became confused and thoughtful." This isn't the reaction of a fifteen-year-old girl ‑to the appearance of a heavenly angel in person (just imagine); it's an ordinary reaction to the strange words of an unfamiliar guest. On what basis did she believe the angel if he didn't look like an angel? And how did she know he was an angel? After all, the angel didn't tell her. As with Matthew, we're dealing with a "literary anachronism"—the author "knows" the essence of the story he's invented before the characters do, and therefore it turns out that the characters automatically "know" it too. He came up with the idea that the angel's name was Gabriel, but he didn't think to include in the story that the angel introduced himself to Mary (yes, earlier he had an angel introduce himself to the priest Zechariah, but how does it follow that this is the same angel?).

After the angel finishes speaking, Mary asks him, "How will this be, seeing I know not a man?" And here's where things get even more interesting. So, we have a situation: a certain girl is already betrothed to a husband (remember, for Jews, this means an official marriage). This girl is prophesied to bear a son who will be great, and that he will be the King of the Jews (receiving the throne of David). Moreover, this girl is Jewish, and for her, this prophecy means not just that she is destined to give birth to the future king, no—it means that she is destined to become the mother of the long-awaited Messiah! And what is it that surprises the girl? Mary, at that time, by common belief, is an ordinary Jewish girl. Perhaps she is surprised and asks the angel why she has been given such an honor—to give birth to the Messiah? Not at all! She is surprised that she can even have a child! What?! Is a married girl surprised by a prediction that she might have a child?

And the author's reason for such surprise is even more absurd. She's surprised by the possibility of having a child because… she hasn't yet had intimate relations with her husband. But she's engaged, isn't she?! And she undoubtedly expects to have children in the future!

She might have been surprised if the angel had told her in the past tense, that is, that she had already conceived a child. Then her question would have been natural. But the author has the angel speak in the future tense! His prediction is astonishing because of the greatness of Mary's future son, not because of the fact that Mary would have a child.

To explain this paradox, theologians sometimes resort (and what else can they do? They have to come up with ‑something to make it all fit together) to this interpretation: supposedly, Mary and Joseph didn't plan to have children, because Mary intended to remain a virgin in marriage. But, ‑firstly, the author of the text doesn't say this—neither in his own words nor in Mary's reaction, which he himself has invented. On the contrary, Mary speaks in the present tense, "I know no man!" That is, speaking about the fact, about now. And not in the future—as if to say, "But I plan to remain a virgin in marriage."

Secondly ‑, it is quite obvious that the author himself does not see the paradox in his narrative – which is not surprising for him…

Thirdly ‑, given the Jewish view of marriage, the idea of getting married to remain a virgin is hard to imagine. This is a later Christian theme (the most famous example being Peter and Fevronia—for those who don't know, these two couldn't think of anything better than preserving virginity in marriage, for religious reasons, but this practice appeared already in early Christianity), and it's still, it would seem, quite a long way off. Not having children was the greatest misfortune from the Jewish perspective, a punishment from God. Luke himself, incidentally (!), mentions this—at the very beginning of his narrative, Elizabeth, the wife of the priest Zechariah and the mother of the future John the Baptist, rejoices that at least in her old age she conceived a child: "This is what the Lord has done for me… to take away my reproach among men." Reproach! For the fact that she had no children, she bore a stigma in the eyes of those around her. Something like a curse, a punishment from God. To imagine a Jewish girl of that time not wanting intimate relations with her husband and not wanting to have children is, to put it mildly, difficult. And, I repeat: the author himself mentions nothing of the sort in his text. This is not surprising: the idea that Mary had no intimate relations with her husband and remained a virgin (even after giving birth!) is a much later one.

Oh, by the way, since we're talking about Zechariah, the father of John the Baptist, I'll quote the previous passage:

"In the days of Herod, king of Judea, there was a priest named Zechariah, of the division of Abia, and his wife, whose name was Elizabeth, was of the house of Aaron. They were both righteous before God, walking in all the commandments and ordinances of the Lord blameless. They had no children, for Elizabeth was barren, and they were both well advanced in years.

One day, when he was serving before God in the order of his turn, by lot, as was customary among priests, he was chosen to enter the temple of the Lord to burn incense, and the whole multitude of people were praying outside during the burning of incense, then an Angel of the Lord appeared to him, standing on the right side of the altar of incense.

When Zechariah saw him, he was troubled, and fear fell upon him. But the angel said to him, "Fear not, Zechariah, for your prayer has been heard, and your wife Elizabeth will bear you a son, and you shall call his name John. And you will have joy and gladness, and many will rejoice at his birth. For he will be great in the sight of the Lord. He will drink no wine or strong drink, and will be filled with the Holy Spirit, even from his mother's womb. He will also turn many of the children of Israel to the Lord their God. He will go before Him in the spirit and power of Elijah, to turn the hearts of the fathers to the children, and the disobedient to the wisdom of the just, to make ready a prepared people for the Lord."

And Zechariah said to the angel, "How shall I know this? For I am an old man, and my wife is well stricken in years." The angel answered and said to him, "I am Gabriel, who stand in the presence of God, and have been sent to speak to you and to bring you this good news. And behold, you will be silent and will not be able to speak until the day these things happen, because you did not believe my words, which will be fulfilled in their time." (Luke 1:5-20 ‑)

The author of the Gospel of Luke seems to ‑be organically incapable of writing anything believable when he writes himself, rather than rewriting Mark.

Zechariah didn't believe God's angel, and the angel punished him for it. But Zechariah (compare this with Mary's reaction in the author's account) understands who stands before him—he "was troubled, and fear fell upon him." But then, how could he—a believing Jew, and a priest to boot!—not believe, when he knew perfectly well the identical story of Abraham and Sarah?!

And it goes without saying that Zechariah responds to the angel with practically the same words as Sarah did to God in a similar situation. As the saying goes, such simplicity is worse than theft… Compare Zechariah's words: "For I am old, and my wife is stricken in years." And Sarah, in turn, said: "Shall I, being old, have this consolation? And my lord is old."

Why does the author, being (see below) a Jew by origin, write such a thing? Because he wants to show how unbelieving Zechariah is (he's a priest, after all, and knows the story of Abraham and Sarah, yet he still doesn't believe God's messenger!) and how much of a believer Mary appears in comparison.

However, let us continue and look at these lines:

“And behold, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you shall call his name Jesus. He will be great and will be called the Son of the Highest. And the Lord God will give him the throne of his father David. And he will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end.” (Luke 1:31-33 ‑)

We all know perfectly well that Jesus did not receive the throne of David (that is, did not become King of the Jews) and did not reign over Judea. Moreover, the Gospel of Luke was written decades after the events described, and the author, of course, knows this (allegorical interpretations of this passage are, forgive me, just another attempt to "get out of" and "explain" a clearly awkward moment).

What's the point here? The fact is that the earliest Christians believed that Jesus was the Messiah, precisely in the classical Jewish sense of the term, with the only difference being that things were a bit more complicated than the Jews believed: yes, he was crucified, but he was resurrected and would soon ‑(literally any year) return, flying on the clouds (literally) and truly reign as king. And a king of the Jews, specifically. Of course, at that time, the concept of the God ‑of the Trinity and Jesus as God the Son was still a long way off. But, as you can see, the idea of the "immaculate" conception of the Spirit had already emerged.

One more thing: the Gospels mention Jesus's brothers and sisters. Church tradition holds that they were children from Joseph's first marriage, meaning that his marriage to Mary was his second. There's nothing surprising about this assumption (I emphasize, assumption!), of course. What's surprising is that the Gospel authors ignore such a relatively important issue. In fact, they barely mention Joseph at all, except for his genealogy. And, quite similarly, they say nothing about Mary—which is even more surprising. The author of the Gospel of Luke quotes verbatim a lengthy dialogue between Mary and Elizabeth (I wonder how he knows it, almost a century after the events described? It's clear where he knows it—from the same source as the angel's name and Mary's dialogue with him). But he describes neither Mary's nor Joseph's family. Note that while the family of the future John the Baptist is briefly but succinctly described, the family of Mary and the family of Joseph are not. A rather significant omission, in my opinion. Especially considering that this is also the case in the other gospels, and even more so considering the subtle hints (well, that’s how it seems to me) of Matthew.

And one more thing. Note that in Luke, the angel appears to Mary in reality, just as he did to Zechariah before him—he literally comes to her, enters her house. Matthew omits this moment, but in his, the angel appears to Joseph three times, and once to the Magi—but only in dreams. So, does an angel need a person to fall asleep in order to appear to them, or can an angel simply come to a house as a human being? In short, as mentioned in the preface, Luke uses not only Mark's text, like Matthew, but also Matthew's own text in writing his Gospel. And he consistently "improves" it—after all, the "real" appearance of an angel is more convincing than some dreamlike vision. And the devout Jews Simeon and Anna, as predictors of the future greatness of the infant Jesus, are indisputably superior to the non-kosher sorcerers of the pagan East.

Likewise, Luke undoubtedly sees (in his opinion, he ‑doesn't understand the allusions) the "inconvenient" and "unfortunate" moment in Matthew's account, when Mary supposedly "turned out to be pregnant by the Holy Spirit," and Joseph's subsequent desire to divorce her. Therefore, he completely removes this situation, with its supposed divorce, from the text. After the angel announces Mary's future conception by the Spirit, Luke moves on to the story of Mary's journey to visit Elizabeth, and from there to Joseph's journey with the pregnant Mary to Bethlehem. "No body, no work," as the saying goes. Matthew addressed the problem with the situation, but Luke took a simpler approach (for, forgive me, he himself couldn't be simpler) and completely eliminated the problematic situation from the plot. However, he developed the very idea of the "immaculate" conception, which he took from Matthew (I wonder, by the way, if normal conceptions are "immaculate"? How I love Christianity…) and explained, unlike Matthew, how it (the conception) "happened"—an angel directly announced it to Mary, appearing to her in her house. After which, presumably, in accordance with the angel's prediction, the Spirit descended upon Mary…

Next. Like Matthew, Luke must resolve the dilemma of ensuring that the Galilean Jesus was born in Bethlehem, Judea. Again, he certainly has Matthew's text, as is evident from the semantic similarity of the stories, but Luke's narrative is entirely different. Similarly, he eliminates the absurdity and ahistorical nature of the massacre of Jewish infants by King Herod—and, in fact, God's fault, at that. (By the way, is this absurd? Or is this another deliberate supposed "absurdity" from Matthew, like the one about the arrival of the "magicians"—just another hint at Jesus's extremely complex origins and the resulting attention to him, also from very complex people? One recalls that "any advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic" (c ) Arthur C. Clarke. And it's no wonder the total silence about Mary's origins, and it's no wonder, after all, that subtle Matthew-like "it turned out"…). But Luke ‑is a Jew by background, and he, of course, knows that Herod the Great didn't kill any infants in Bethlehem. Therefore , he retains the idea he liked of Joseph and Mary's journey, but completely changes the plot.

But how then could Jesus have ended up a resident of Galilee? After all, if not for the star and the overly chatty magicians from the East, Joseph wouldn't have fled to Egypt and from there to Galilee! So Luke reverses Matthew's situation—his Joseph initially lives in Nazareth, and only by force of circumstance ends up in Bethlehem, where he was destined to be born. After all ‑, the future king of the Jews was a native of the Jews, so any random town wouldn't do… So Joseph ends up there, of course, at the very moment Mary, whom he'd brought along on his journey, gives birth to Jesus. Well, that goes without saying…

Quote:

"In those days a decree went out from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be registered. This census was the first one during the reign of Quirinius over Syria. And everyone went to be registered, each to his own city. Joseph also went up from Galilee, from the city of Nazareth, to Judea, to the city of David, which is called Bethlehem, because he was of the house and lineage of David, to be registered with Mary, his betrothed wife, who was with child.

And while they were there, the days came for her to be delivered. And she brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger: for there was no room for them in the inn. Now in the same country there were shepherds out in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And suddenly an angel of the Lord stood by them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them; and they were greatly afraid. And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people: For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you: Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger. And suddenly there appeared with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, glorifying God, and saying, Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men!

When the angels had departed from them into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, "Let us go to Bethlehem and see this thing that has happened, which the Lord has made known to us." So they went with haste and found Mary and Joseph, and the baby lying in a manger. When they saw it, they reported what had been told them about this child. And all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds told them." (Luke 2:1-19 ‑)

Pay attention to the first two sentences. How interestingly the author writes: the census took place "throughout the whole land" and during the "government of Quirinius over Syria." What "whole" land, and what does Quirinius and Syria, neighboring Judea, have to do with it? After reading Matthew, we might expect the phrase "during the reign of Herod over Israel"! But the point is, the author undoubtedly knows the story of Quirinius's census—as well as the fact that the census was conducted only in Judea (and not in Galilee!). Had the author written honestly, there's no way he could have had Joseph in Bethlehem…

In real history, things happened like this: after the death of Herod the Great, the Roman Emperor Octavian Augustus divided the territory Herod had ruled. He gave the northern part, Galilee, to Herod's son Antipas. And the southern part, Judea, was given to Herod's other son, Archelaus (the same one whom Joseph feared in Matthew, which is why ‑Jacob was forced to settle in Galilee). Archelaus ruled Judea for about ten years, and he ruled poorly. Eventually, the residents, outraged by his rule, wrote a complaint against him to the emperor. He heeding this appeal (he clearly didn't need unrest in an already rebellious province), dismissed Archelaus. He handed over the administration of Judea to the Roman governor Quirinius, who governed neighboring Syria.

So Quirinius, in order to collect taxes (the very same "tax to Caesar" famously mentioned in the Gospels), conducted a census of the population of Judea. As the reader already knows, the Jews, outraged at being counted, rebelled, but Quirinius suppressed the rebellion and conducted the census.

So, firstly: the census could not have affected the Galilean Joseph in any way. Because Galilee was not handed over to Quirinius (and, moreover, the census did not take place during the reign of Herod the Great; it took place after Judea was handed over to Quirinius, that is, after the reign of Herod's son Archelaus had ended).

Second: the Roman authorities in general, and Quirinius in particular, were far from insane. And forcing every citizen of the country to move from their current place of residence to cities where their distant ancestor had lived centuries ago for the purpose of a census would never have occurred to them. This in itself is simply the height of absurdity and, most importantly, completely renders the census itself meaningless. After all, it is conducted not out of idle curiosity, but for tax collection. And Quirinius isn't content with knowing how many people live in Judea. He's even more concerned with knowing the population of each city or village, so he can then collect the corresponding tax from that location. And if you have people registering in one city but actually living in another, you won't collect any money from them in either. After all, in Bethlehem, a person is registered and counted, but they don't live there. And where they live, they're not counted.

Where does this absurdity come from? There are no subtle hints here—this isn't the cunning Matthew, this is the naive, simple-minded Luke. And Luke is undoubtedly a Jew, no wonder he trades Eastern wizards for righteous Jews as soothsayers… Luke simply measures everything in his own, Jewish currency (like Matthew's with Roman currency)—if he had conducted a census of the Jews himself, it wouldn't have been to pay taxes to Caesar (of course!), but to find out how many people there were in each tribe of Israel. How many direct descendants of King David, I wonder? Well, let them go to Bethlehem, since they are descendants of David—that's where they'll be counted… This is literally kindergarten-level thinking—residents of all Israel rushing (and immediately, even with their wives in late pregnancy—so what?) to register in the place where their ancestor lived many centuries ago. I wonder, if your ancestor isn't David, where are you supposed to go? Surely not everyone in David's time had the famous David as an ancestor? Maybe your ancestor was a simple shepherd? And you have no idea where he lived and tended his sheep in David's time? What then? Where are you, poor thing, supposed to go for the census? It's not that the author is a storyteller; it's that he's a completely lousy storyteller… If only C.S. Lewis or Ronald Tolkien had lived in those days! Or Ivan Efremov, whose "The Hour of the Bull" is a blatant allusion to the Gospels, despite being an atheist… Can you imagine how amazing the New Testament could have been?! Oh, Luke, Luke…

Third: how could the Romans have known that Joseph was a descendant of David? And if he had gone, for example, to Jerusalem—what then? Would the Roman census takers have said to him, "What are you doing here?" " ‑Go on, go to Bethlehem; your distant ancestor David was born there!" We know that, we know everything about every inhabitant of Judea, all the way back forty generations to Abraham! Or did Joseph have a passport with a line stating "descendant of David"?

Fourth: How could Mary travel through two countries while in the final stages of pregnancy—so that she gave birth immediately upon arriving in Bethlehem? Or was she left with no other choice? In that case, the Romans should have issued Joseph a summons (!)—requiring him to appear on such-and-such ‑a date, and yes, strictly in Bethlehem, don't get it wrong.

Fifth: Why didn't Joseph, finding himself with Mary in Bethlehem and unable to find a room at an inn, knock on the door of the nearest house? Considering his wife was about ‑to give birth? Instead, he took her to some deserted area outside the city? Would a Jew living in the Middle East at that time refuse hospitality to another Jew? Especially with a pregnant wife (though he would never have refused, of course). This is completely unimaginable – any Bethlehem Jew would have given Joseph and Mary shelter. Knocking on any door would have been enough… Joseph could also have approached the local synagogue…

And sixth: the author has Mary lay the swaddled baby in a manger. But a manger is a feeding trough for livestock! Joseph and Mary decided to spend the night in a barn, amidst manure?! It's perfectly clear the author was trying to create an allusion to a lamb, but still, friends, a barn is a bit much. Have you ever ‑been in a barn? ‑You wouldn't even be able to enter without rubber boots, although you wouldn't willingly go in boots, I assure you. Mary gave birth to a child lying in manure?! Oh, Luke…

And the appearance of the heavenly host to the shepherds so that they can go to the "manger" and witness the birth of Jesus—this is, of course, yet another replacement for Matthew's non-kosher Magi with Orthodox Jewish shepherds. And why would the heavenly host appear to the shepherds? For the same reason that a star appeared to the Magi—the author needs the identity of the infant Jesus to be announced at birth. And, of course, as in Matthew (I repeat, Luke borrows his semantic ideas from him; he really likes them!), despite these foreshadowings (Luke has four of them—the angel to Mary, the righteous Simeon, the righteous Anna, and then the angels to the shepherds), the line along the lines of "all Jerusalem was troubled" has no continuation. The Jewish people no longer show any interest, other than a momentary one, in the born and prophetically announced Messiah.

Let me quote, so you can see, the fragment about Anna the Prophetess: