Читать онлайн The Bible as a detective story

Oleg Zelentsov

The Bible as a detective story

Annotation

The bulk of the book is devoted to an analysis of biblical (primarily New Testament) events from the standpoint of "how reliable is this?" and "can anything ‑interesting be discovered if you read and reflect on the text carefully?" Why, for example, does Matthew provide Jesus' genealogy through Joseph, but then himself writes that Joseph is not his father? Why and for what purpose do magicians come to the newborn Jesus, and why from the East? Why is it that in Mark's account, the women are met at the empty tomb by a young man, and not by an angel(‑s), as in the other gospel writers? Why does Mark begin his biography of Jesus with his baptism by John? And so on: there are many questions, and finding answers to them seems an interesting undertaking.

Three appendices to the book are devoted to psychology and conspiracy theories. For example, the reader will learn what motivated J.R.R. Tolkien to write "The Lord of the Rings," and V.I. Ulyanov to take "Lenin" as his second surname, and the connection between these two motives.

Preface

"It is impossible for there to be more or fewer Gospels than there are. For since there are four cardinal points in the world in which we live, and four cardinal winds, and since the Church is scattered throughout the earth, and the pillar and foundation of the Church is the Gospel and the Spirit of life, it is fitting that she have four pillars."

(Hieromortyr Irenaeus of Lyons)

When we read the Gospels, we must keep in mind that we have before us something like a layer cake:

The very bottom, first layer is the real historical events reflected (exactly like that) in them.

Which "peep through" the second layer, which is the Gospels themselves (the canonical and the surviving apocryphal texts, as well as other New Testament texts). For example, Jesus was indeed a Galilean by birth. And he was undoubtedly crucified during the reign of Pontius Pilate. And so on. Unfortunately, overall, this second layer is, to put it mildly, not very reliable.

The third layer consists of later edits ‑to the insertion, primarily from the Byzantine era. These were literally stuffed, like raisins into a bun, by the pious bishops of that time into what was supposedly sacred Scripture (let's be kind to them, they were believers, after all). Therefore, Jesus, for example, undoubtedly foretold the imminent coming of the "Son of Man" as the long-awaited Jewish Messiah, but he certainly did not send his disciples "to make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit."

The fourth layer is—at least for the Russian-speaking reader—the Synodal Translation, completed in the 19th ‑century and still circulated by the Russian Orthodox Church. I will try to speak about it as carefully as possible in what follows. Otherwise, if I were to speak frankly, this book would not have passed the publisher's censorship.

And finally, the fifth layer is what is not directly in the Gospels themselves, but what the reader usually brings into them without noticing it.

In doing so, we commit two very natural, yet very serious, mistakes. Firstly ‑—and this is especially true for believers—as we read, we often unconsciously introduce our own preconceived notions. For example, at the very beginning of the Gospel of Mark, we read that someone named Jesus came to the Jordan to be baptized by John. And of course, we ‑know that it was God who came to John, born a man from the Virgin Mary! As a result, instead of understanding the author's ideas, we simply project our own familiar template onto the text.

Secondly ‑, we—again, ignoring the author's thought process and without even thinking about it—introduce into his text what is written in another text. After all, all four Gospels recount the same events, don't they? For example, we read in Matthew that after the betrothal of Joseph and Mary, she "turned out" to be pregnant by the Holy Spirit. How did this "turn out"? What could that mean? Oh yes, we "know" how—after all, Luke describes the Annunciation scene, where an angel comes to Mary's house with a prophecy! Or, another example: what was the first miracle Jesus performed? Of course, we "know"—he turned water into wine at the wedding in Cana of Galilee. True? Or not? Or was this written by the author of the Gospel of John at the end of the first century, and only by him? And not in the other evangelists?

And of course, believers, Christians, make a third, most serious mistake. Being a priori convinced of the "divine inspiration" of the Gospels, they are unable, purely psychologically, through a subconscious blockade of thought, to question their authenticity. In this case, the result can sometimes become, pardon me, comical. For example, someone reads with their own eyes Jesus's prophecy that not all those standing near him will die before they see "the kingdom of God come with power"—but the believing reader simply cannot accept that Jesus could be mistaken. He is God, and the Gospels are divinely inspired! And so… they begin to resort to all sorts of unthinkable and sophisticated conjectures, so beloved of theologians in such cases (on the other hand, what else can they do?). I urge the reader not to succumb to such weaknesses.

Typically, believers (Christians) perceive the Four Gospels as if four witnesses to certain events had described them, each as best they could and as best they could remember. In such a case, if we were talking about a real event and real witnesses, we would see the following picture: the witnesses' testimonies generally agree, but may differ slightly in detail (one remembered one detail, another another, someone else ‑may have made a slight mistake in their recollection—this is normal), and may even contradict each other in minor details. And, of course, each witness's account will have a distinctive style and language, because each person expresses their thoughts in a way that is unique to them. So, believers, reading the Gospels, perceive them in much the same way: as four authorial accounts by four independent witnesses, or, at least, as records from the words of four witnesses, participants in the events.

With the important addition noted above, believers, as stated above, consider the Bible to be a divinely inspired text. Therefore, despite the differences in the literary styles of various authors and the differences in the details of the descriptions, the text of the Gospels is, overall, truth. Or rather: Truth, with a capital T.

Figuratively speaking (I recall how I myself perceived the Gospels earlier), the Four Gospels are like a painting, simultaneously painted by four artists with four brushes, guided by the Holy Spirit. Some details were painted by one, some by another, and others they painted together, each introducing slight artistic differences—into the overall picture, I repeat. In other words, the Gospels are perceived as a single book. It's as if "God commissioned four authors to write a Gospel each, to the best of their ability, their desire, and their skill, while at the same time being guided by the Holy Spirit and striving to convey a sincere and honest account of the true events, with God accompanying them in this endeavor."

In reality—and I hope this will become clear below—the situation here is quite different. The Gospel of Mark is the original narrative (although biblical scholars are convinced that it is partly based on a certain lost text, "Q," and I would add that it also draws a bit on the Epistles of the Apostle Paul). Then the author of the Gospel of Matthew rewrites it, adding to and changing it as he sees fit. Then the author of the Gospel of Luke rewrites Mark's text, also "correcting" it, while also using Matthew's text *—preserving the latter's meaning but radically altering its narrative outline. And finally, the author of the Gospel of John, the latest (about 70 ‑years after the Crucifixion and almost a century after the Birth of Christ), takes one or more of these texts and, no longer rewrites them, creates a completely original work. In all four cases, the authors draw on the ideas about Jesus that were accepted in their time and within the religious movement to which they belonged. Thus, the Gospels consistently reveal how these ideas changed over time.

* – the fact that Luke relied not only on Mark's text but also on Matthew's is an important point, as the accepted view (including among professional biblical scholars, as far as the author knows) is otherwise. Further in the text, you will see the justification for this thesis.

Christmas

Chronologically, the earliest, as already stated, is the Gospel of Mark. For me, this isn't a matter of formal historical dating, but the result of a study of the four Gospels. This Gospel is placed second in the Bible after Matthew, and for an obvious reason: Mark doesn't yet have an account of Jesus's origin. Therefore, the compilers of the Biblical canon placed Matthew, who does have one, first. From here on, we will examine the Gospels in chronological order: Mark, Matthew, Luke, and John.

*******

So,

Gospel of Mark

“The beginning of the gospel of Jesus Christ, the Son of God; as it is written in the prophets: ‘Behold, I send my messenger before your face, who will prepare your way before you.’ The voice of one crying in the wilderness: ‘Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight.’ John came baptizing in the wilderness and preaching the baptism of repentance for the remission of sins. And all the country of Judea and those from Jerusalem went out to him, and they were all baptized by him in the river Jordan, confessing their sins. Now John wore a garment of camel’s hair and a leather girdle around his loins, and he ate locusts and wild honey. And he preached, saying, ‘One mightier than I comes after me, whose sandal latchet I am not worthy to stoop down and unloose. I have baptized you with water, but He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit.’ And it came to pass in those days, that Jesus came from Nazareth of Galilee, and was baptized by John in the Jordan. And as he came up out of the water, immediately he saw the heavens opened, and the Spirit like a dove descending upon him. And a voice came from heaven, saying, You are my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased. Immediately afterward the Spirit driveth him into the wilderness. And he was there in the wilderness forty days, tempted of Satan. And he was with the wild beasts: and angels ministered unto him. Now after John was put in prison, Jesus came into Galilee, preaching the gospel of the kingdom of God, and saying, The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God is at hand: repent ye, and believe the gospel. (Mark 1:1-15 ‑)

(The story then continues with Jesus calling his first disciples: Simon, Andrew, James and John, and then he begins to preach.)

Here we see several extremely important points from the author:

First ‑, and this is striking: Mark says nothing about Jesus's origins. Notice that he briefly but succinctly introduces John to the reader. But how does he introduce Jesus? He calls him "the Son of God" (that's right, "son" with a small "s"), but that's essentially just the h2 of the work. And then? What about his origins? Today, we're accustomed to the idea that Jesus is literally the Son of God—God the Son—and that he was born of the Holy Spirit to a virgin named Mary. We're ‑accustomed, but in his time, this sounded completely fantastical, even absurd ("to the Jews a stumbling block, and to the Greeks foolishness"—Apostle Paul). And not a word about this crucial circumstance?! Yes. John is briefly introduced, but Jesus is not? Yes.

Next. What does the "voice from heaven" say? Notice—it doesn't announce to those around him that Jesus is His (obviously, the author means God's) Son. No. The voice is telling Jesus this! Yes, obviously (since John saw the dove), we should understand the author to have also heard the voice from heaven. But the voice is addressed to Jesus.

Once again, this is important: the voice from heaven doesn't inform John that "this is my son," but Jesus that "you are my son!" Even if, according to the author, John also hears this message, the voice is addressed to Jesus. You must admit, in our usual interpretation, Jesus knew from infancy that he was God. And here God informs him that (obviously, "from now on"—from the moment of his baptism) this man is his son.

And thirdly: after this—that is, after Jesus is called "son" by God—"the Spirit leads him into the wilderness" (in the original, "And immediately the Spirit casts him out into the wilderness"). There Jesus is tempted by Satan—that is, essentially, undergoes a test.

What, apparently ‑, is the point here? It's that ideas about who Jesus was began to develop practically from apostolic times, and continued to evolve (including competing interpretations) for several centuries. One of the earliest interpretations (the Gospel of Mark is the earliest of all) was that Jesus was a man, once chosen by God and, through the rite of baptism (immersion in and emergence from water), adopted by Him. Adoption here should be understood in the most literal sense—in the same sense in which Joseph adopted Jesus after his birth. Cultural background must also be taken into account: the author of the Gospel of Mark was most likely Roman by culture (the author of the Gospel of Matthew was certainly Roman by culture, unlike Luke, who was Jewish, as discussed below). In Roman culture, it was common for an adult to be adopted by an older adult, and being adopted was considered higher and more honorable (!) than being a biological son. A biological son is a natural born son, but being chosen as a son was a greater honor.

And one more thing. What does the dove have to do with this? Why a dove? For comparison, in Acts (more on that later), tongues of fire descend upon the apostles at Pentecost. Today, the dove is a symbol of peace (as opposed to war). However, what did this mean in the cultural context of that time? That God grants people peace instead of war? But, firstly ‑, Jesus said the opposite: " I did not come to bring you peace, but a sword" (though this is in Matthew, not Mark). And secondly ‑, a dove descends upon Jesus.

The author found two possible interpretations, let's call them the classic and the conspiracy theorists. The classic interpretation, I quote Wikipedia:

"The Jews sacrificed doves in the Temple for the purpose of purification. It was the only bird available for such a procedure. The dove was also considered a symbol of Israel."

This is a very good interpretation, in my opinion – in this case, the author shows that Jesus is about to become a sacrifice of purification (as if atonement) for the people of Israel.

As for the conspiracy theories, here's a composite (from ru.wikipedia.org and ru.ruwiki.ru) neural network response. I don't see any point in tweaking it:

In Sumero ‑-Akkadian mythology, the dove personified Ishtar, the goddess of love and fertility. This is evidenced by archaeological terracotta figurines of the goddess, on whose raised hand the bird was often depicted.

In Ancient Greece, the dove was an attribute of the goddess Aphrodite, and also one of the attributes of the ancient Greek hero Hercules.

In Ancient Rome, the doves of Venus, who made their nest in the overturned helmet of Mars, were considered a symbol of peace.

By the way, Ishtar, Aphrodite, and Venus are names of the same goddess in different cultures. It remains to be added that, in my opinion, these interpretations do not contradict each other, but rather complement each other.

And then, as we see, Jesus faces a forty-day ordeal in the desert. This, of course, is a clear allusion to the forty-year wilderness wandering of the people of Israel. Jesus departs from the desert to preach in Galilee after "John was betrayed"—this is likely an allusion to how Joshua set out to conquer the Promised Land after the death of Moses at the end of the forty-year wandering (note that John also preached in the desert). Jesus, however, was not in the desert—so he, as if symbolizing the second Joshua (who "gave" the Jews the Promised Land, and Jesus brought the Kingdom of God), also spends forty days in the desert.

Finally, I'll reiterate: Jesus's origins and family are not described at all at the beginning of the Gospel. Although, in theory, this is the genre of biography, and it should have begun there (not to mention the immaculate conception by the Holy Spirit!). It would be a different matter if the author's focus was not on Jesus's origins, but on his recognition by John, his following John (as the forerunner, "one who prepared the way"), and his adoption by God.

By the way, what is the significance of John's role as a forerunner? What kind of role is this? What exactly did John do to "prepare the way"? This, in my opinion, is a symbolic allusion—just as Moses "prepared the way" for Joshua to the Promised Land, so John symbolically did the same for Jesus. The author is interested in the symbolism here (which we will encounter many times later), not the literal practical results of John's work.

And, of course, one cannot help but notice how all the Gospels emphasize—from John's perspective—his fundamentally less significant role and status compared to Jesus. This, as the reader will see below, is no accident.

The Gospel of Matthew

Matthew begins his narrative with the genealogy of Jesus (the original Greek uses the word "genesis," so the synodal translation "genealogy" is correct here):

“The book of the generation of Jesus Christ, the son of David, the son of Abraham. Abraham begot Isaac; Isaac begot Jacob; Jacob begot Judas and his brothers; (…).” And so on, the genealogy leads through many generations of Abraham’s descendants, including King David, to Joseph: “(…) Jacob begot Joseph the husband of Mary, of whom was born Jesus, who is called Christ.” (Matthew 1:1-16 ‑)

Further, as the reader is surely aware, Matthew informs us that Jesus was born to Mary not from Joseph, but from the "Holy Spirit." Astonishing! Why give Jesus's genealogy from Abraham and David in the male line through Joseph if Jesus is not Joseph's son?

Moreover, the author of the Gospel—without a doubt—provides Jesus's genealogy from David for a reason. After all, if Jesus is the Jewish Messiah, the Mashiach, then according to the beliefs of the Jews of that time, He must be a direct male descendant of King David. Thus, the author clearly wants to justify Jesus's right to be the Messiah as a male descendant of David.

Frankly, my initial hypothesis was that the author of this Gospel was… to put it mildly, a little out of his mind. However, upon reflection, I abandoned this hypothesis. The fact is that Matthew then tells the story of the Magi, which allows him to combine Jesus's Galilean origins with his birth in Bethlehem. And this is the author's own account—Mark doesn't have it. So, despite all the inconsistencies in this account (which will be discussed later), it does have a certain logic. This means the author was, after all, aware of what he was writing. So what then?

The answer is obvious: the author gives a genealogy of Jesus through the male line, but then immediately points out that Joseph is not his father. That is to say… the last name in the genealogy doesn't belong there. This is not Joseph's genealogy!

And… surprisingly, the author seems to give us an additional hint about this. He writes, and I quote:

“So all the generations from Abraham to David are fourteen generations; and from David until the captivity in Babylon are fourteen generations; and from the captivity in Babylon until Christ are fourteen generations.”

And now I quote from Wikipedia:

“But in the most ancient codices of the Gospel of Matthew – in the Sinai, Vatican, Ephraim and others – the name of Joachim is missing from the genealogy, and only 41 names remain (including Abraham and Jesus), and 14 × 3 = 42”

In other words, the author is perhaps hinting that one name in the genealogy is superfluous. Whose? Perhaps Joseph's? Of course, Joseph's, since he is not Jesus's father. And the genealogy ‑is of Jesus!

Please also note: from the perspective of Christianity as we know it (but not the early Christianity of the apostolic era, discussed below), Jesus was born of the Holy Spirit and the Virgin Mary. Therefore, in the "human line," he descends only from Mary, and only her genealogy is significant. But Mary's genealogy is not given. Moreover, none of the Gospels mentions Mary's origins or her family at all.

And by the way. This could, of course, be considered nitpicking on my part. But still: on what basis does the author call Jesus "Christ"? We're accustomed to the phrase "Jesus Christ" or simply "Christ" as a proper noun, and we even capitalize it, as if it were a first or last name. However, "Christ" is a Greek word that literally means "anointed with oil" (a literal translation of the Hebrew term "mashiach"). What, in fact, was completely incomprehensible to the Greeks—what does "a man anointed with oil" mean? It's a different matter for the Jews, who traditionally anointed the king with oil at his coronation (this same custom was transferred to Orthodox Russia—both as a standard church rite for all Orthodox believers, and also at the coronation of emperors, making any Russian tsar or emperor "God's anointed"). Now, no one ever anointed Jesus as king. This is an official rite, performed by a prophet or high priest. So, David or Solomon, for example, were Christs (that is, anointed kings). But certainly not Jesus. Accordingly, the use of this term in relation to Jesus requires at least some justification. But the author—I emphasize, the author—does not provide such justification! Attempts at "explanations" by later theologians are well known, but I am not interested in them here.

Let's move on through the text. I'll provide quotes (from the Synodal Translation) so you don't have to look up the corresponding passages in the Bible:

"Now the birth of Jesus Christ was thus: When His mother Mary was betrothed to Joseph, before they came together, she was found with child of the Holy Spirit. Now Joseph her husband, being a righteous man, and not wishing to make her a public character, was about to put her away secretly. But while he considered these things, behold, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream, saying, 'Joseph, son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary your wife, for that which is conceived in her is of the Holy Spirit. And she will bring forth a son, and you shall call his name Jesus: for he will save his people from their sins.' Now all this took place that it might be fulfilled which was spoken by the Lord through the prophet, saying, 'Behold, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and they shall call his name Emmanuel,' which being interpreted, 'God with us.' When Joseph rose from sleep, he did as the angel of the Lord had commanded him, and took unto him his wife, and knew her not. Then she brought forth her firstborn son, and he called his name Jesus. (Matthew 1: ‑18-25)

So, Mary "turned out" to be pregnant, sometime between the time she was betrothed to Joseph and the time they were united . What does this mean? Previously—before I became fascinated with the New Testament and began studying it carefully—I assumed that "betrothal" meant something like an engagement, and that "were united" meant "were united in marriage." However, this is absolutely not the case. And the blame here lies entirely with those who created the Synodal Translation (as well as with the modern Russian Orthodox Church, which continues to replicate it, knowing full well how deliberately false it is in this and several other places). The fact is that the term "betrothal" requires an obligatory footnote with an explanation for the modern Russian reader. And the term "were united" is an outright lie. In fact, in the original Greek text, instead of the incomprehensible "were united," there is a word meaning "coitus." That is, Mary "found herself" pregnant before she and Joseph had intercourse. This is precisely what the author of the Gospel actually wrote. And this is precisely why, upon learning of Mary's pregnancy, Joseph confidently assumed she had cheated on him with another man and decided to "let her go." So as not to "disgrace" her—yes, that's the word the author uses in the original, and not the "pious" Slavic word "оказить" (proclaim) of the Synodal translation.

As for the "betrothal," things are even more interesting. For Jews, betrothal was the legal "turning point" in regard to marriage, that is, its conclusion—it took place officially, in the presence of witnesses and with an oath, and could only be dissolved through an official divorce. So, the following phrase, "Joseph her husband," is entirely accurate. Why then didn't the translators write, "After Mary was married to Joseph"? Was that a lie again? No. The point is that if they had translated it that way, the Russian reader would have assumed that Joseph and Mary were married. Because in our culture, the day of the marriage and the day of the wedding are one and the same. But that wasn't the case among the ancient Jews! A formal marriage, where a father gave his daughter in marriage to a certain ‑man (and if that man was still a youth, then his father also married him)—that's one thing. The wedding was planned for later , according to the Jewish calendar, because it wasn't possible to celebrate it on every day. Thus, these two moments—the marriage and the wedding—were separated in time, and it's no surprise that Mary was already officially, legally married to Joseph, but intercourse between them had not yet occurred, since the wedding day had (apparently) not yet arrived. Why, then, didn't the authors of the Synodal Translation (and the contemporary Russian Orthodox Church) add footnotes to the text to clarify such an important (and completely incomprehensible to the uninitiated reader) circumstance? The point is that the author goes on to write that Joseph, upon learning of Mary's pregnancy, wants to "secretly send her away." Hence the unseemly desire of the authors of the Synodal Translation to present everything as if Mary and Joseph were not married, but merely engaged, and, accordingly, Joseph wants to " ‑quietly," avoiding publicity and shame for Mary, break off the engagement. It's a completely different matter if the marriage is official and, of course, many people, including relatives on both sides, know about it. And that annulment requires an official divorce under Jewish law, while divorce of a newly married couple, especially one who is already pregnant (before the wedding!), requires an explanation. What can "secretly send away" do? This would be a terrible scandal and terrible shame for everyone, especially Mary's relatives. As for Mary herself, according to Jewish law, she faces stoning. Moreover, they would beat out of her the name of the man with whom she allegedly sinned, for he, too, was to be stoned, according to Jewish law.

So where did this, pardon me, absurd story about "secretly sending her away" come from? It's very simple. The author needs to convincingly claim that Mary didn't conceive the child by Joseph (especially since he began by tracing Jesus's genealogy through Joseph). So he writes that Joseph, upon learning of the pregnancy, wanted to send her away—in other words, he knew with absolute certainty that the child could not possibly be his. On the other hand, Joseph is a righteous man, and it's unfair to attribute to him a willingness to disgrace a girl, even in what he considers to be such an extremely unfortunate situation. Hence the completely unrealistic story of his desire to "secretly send away" Mary.

But how could such a thing even occur to me? I'll venture a guess: the author was Roman (which will be evident later in the story of the Magi). The fact is, under Roman law, a woman, even if married, remains the property of her father. And the father has the right to take her back from her husband at any time (yes, that's how it was with the Romans!). And in this case, there really is the option of "secretly sending her away." If the Roman Joseph had come to Mary's Roman father and told him of the shameful situation that had occurred, both parties could have agreed that no one needed publicity. And the father could have taken Mary from Joseph under his paternal Roman law, without explaining anything to anyone. In turn, the pregnancy of a woman already officially married would also have come as no surprise to those around her.

Well, as a minor nitpick, we will point out some inconsistency in the author: “it turned out that She was with child from the Holy Spirit.”

For the reader to understand Joseph's motive, it would have been better to write only "it turned out that she was with child." Because Joseph, as his subsequent description suggests, learned that Mary had conceived "by the Holy Spirit"—not from Mary, but later, in a dream at night, from an angel. Otherwise, it would seem that Joseph learned of this twice. And how, pardon me, could it "turn out" (!) like that? Luke's version of the story is much better—there, Mary learns in advance from an angel that she will conceive by the Holy Spirit. But in Matthew, it somehow ‑"turns out."

For it to "turn out" like this, either Mary must have told Joseph that she had conceived by the Holy Spirit—in which case it would be written that Joseph didn't believe her (that is, he thought she was lying to him, concocting a ridiculous story to justify her shameful act), and only a night vision of an angel convinced him. Or it would turn out that Mary either didn't know why she was pregnant (?!) or didn't tell Joseph that she was conceived by the Holy Spirit, only stating that she was. But in that case, what could she expect? Only divorce and disgrace (and stoning, yes). The lines don't connect well, which is why the author casually wrote, "She was found to be with child by the Holy Spirit."

Next,

"All this happened that it might be fulfilled which was spoken by the Lord through the prophet, saying, 'Behold, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and they shall call his name Emmanuel,' which means, 'God with us.'" (Matthew 1:22-23 ‑)

I won't cite the relevant Old Testament passage here (Isaiah 7:14). The reader can look it up for themselves and see that this prophecy refers to very specific circumstances that took place in ancient times and in no way refers to the future Messiah of the New Testament era. And the word "Virgin," capitalized in the Synodal Translation, is another lie by the Russian Orthodox Church translators. As is the expression "behold, the Virgin." The original text says "this girl," and the prophet there refers to a very specific girl. He addresses the king and says, " This girl will conceive," meaning, " This girl will become pregnant." There is another word in Hebrew specifically for "virgin." And, of course, if we say that a ‑girl became pregnant, we are unlikely to mean that she became pregnant not from a man, but because she was a virgin and from the Holy Spirit. If we were talking about such an incredible event, then, ‑firstly, it would have been necessary to somehow emphasize that we are talking about a virgin who became pregnant without a man, because otherwise no one would even think of such a conception (and it didn't; the author of the Gospel decided to choose a "suitable" prophecy—at first glance, to make his story more convincing). And ‑secondly, given the context of Isaiah, Mary would have to be considered the second virgin in history to conceive . After all, it was about a specific girl in a specific situation.

And here I propose we ask ourselves: why does the author cite a prophecy, completely inappropriate for this situation, about the birth of ‑a man named Emmanuel who lived long ago ? If he does, he knows the Scriptures, and therefore cannot help but understand that this ancient story, which happened long ago, has nothing to do with Mary. Is this again absurd, like the genealogy of Jesus through Joseph in the male line? Or… or is this deliberate absurdity, written according to the principle of "sapienti sat"? Roughly speaking, "a fool will believe, but a wise man will think about it"? (What if that same absurd "turned out" was also a deliberate absurdity? Is the author, pardon me, stupid? So stupid that he doesn't notice the absurdity of tracing Jesus's genealogy through Joseph through the male line and then immediately following that story with the assertion that he is not Joseph's son? Or is he, on the contrary, quite clever and, with this absurdity, "trolling," in modern parlance, the reader, hinting at something ‑he knows but can't quite put into words? Or perhaps he's got a knack for arithmetic and knows perfectly well that 3 x 14 = 42?)

If you read the relevant passage in Isaiah, you'll understand—even though it's not explicitly stated—that the girl most likely conceived from the prophet himself. And what is a prophet? A man from God. A righteous man. A holy soul, so to speak. Hmm. How could it possibly "turn out"…

Mary "is with child of the Holy Spirit"? For a modern Christian, the meaning is obvious—it's referring to God ‑the Holy Spirit, one of the persons of the Trinity . However, this is a rather late scholastic concept—Christians debated it for centuries to come. But the author of the text, as well as his contemporary ‑readers, didn't have such a concept. What does "the Holy Spirit" mean to a Roman (and the text is written in Greek, so not for Jews)? And, in fact, to Jews too? Think about it… But perhaps the author simply means some "spirit of God"? But he doesn't write that! Luke writes that. But not Matthew. He doesn't write that conception was from God, much less that Jesus is God born of Mary (Jesus becomes the eternal God only in the Gospel of John, that is, at the end of the first century). Consider this fact. No, for some reason Matthew ‑gives the genealogy of Jesus through the male line , and only Joseph there, according to his own words, is superfluous…

Now let's move on to the next episode in Matthew – the story of the Magi.

Here's a quick clarification for those unfamiliar with the topic: Judea and Galilee are two countries bordering each other and historically sometimes united under a single ruler, sometimes divided. Galilee is located north of Judea. During the time of King Herod the Great, these countries were united, and again divided (by the Roman Emperor) during the reign of his successors. The Jews of that time believed, based on an ancient prophecy, that the Messiah they were expecting, the future King of the Jews, would come from Judea and—if we believe Matthew—specifically from the Jewish city of Bethlehem. This is the hometown of King David. Jesus, however, was a Galilean by birth.

How does the author of Matthew's Gospel resolve this problem? He solves it this way: Jesus is born in Bethlehem, in Judea—as befits the Messiah—but due to unexpected circumstances, Joseph's family is forced to flee first to Egypt, and upon their return, to Galilee, to the city of Nazareth. This is why Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, natives of Bethlehem, turn out to be Galileans, and the adult Jesus, when he begins preaching, is considered by all to be a Galilean. I quote:

“Now when Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea in the days of Herod the king, behold, wise men from the east came to Jerusalem, saying,

Where is he who has been born King of the Jews? For we have seen his star in the east and have come to worship him.

When Herod the king heard this, he was troubled, and all Jerusalem with him. And he gathered together all the chief priests and scribes of the people and asked them where the Christ was to be born. They answered him, "In Bethlehem of Judea." For so it is written by the prophet: "And you, Bethlehem, in the land of Judah, are by no means least among the princes of Judah. For from you shall come a ruler who will shepherd my people Israel."

Then Herod secretly called the Magi and learned from them the time of the star's appearance. He sent them to Bethlehem and said, "Go and search carefully for the Child, and when you have found Him, bring me word, that I too may come and worship Him." When they had heard the king's message, they departed. And behold, the star which they had seen in the east went before them until it came and stood over the place where the Child was.

When they saw the star, they rejoiced with exceeding great joy. And when they had entered the house, they saw the Child with Mary His mother. And they fell down and worshiped Him. And when they had opened their treasures, they presented Him with gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. And having been warned in a dream not to return to Herod, they departed for their own country by another route.

And when they had departed, behold, an angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream, saying, Arise, take the young Child and His mother, and flee into Egypt, and remain there until I tell you, for Herod will seek the young Child to destroy Him. So he arose, took the young Child and His mother by night, and departed for Egypt, and remained there until the death of Herod, that it might be fulfilled which the Lord spoke by the prophet, saying, Out of Egypt have I called My Son.

Then Herod, seeing himself mocked by the Magi, was greatly enraged, and sent to kill all the infants in Bethlehem and all its districts, from two years old and under, according to the time he had ascertained from the Magi. Then was fulfilled what was spoken by the prophet Jeremiah, saying, "A voice is heard in Ramah, weeping and wailing and great lamentation. Rachel weeps for her children and refuses to be comforted, because they are no more."

Now after Herod's death, behold, an angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in Egypt in a dream, saying, "Arise, take the young child and his mother, and go into the land of Israel; for those who sought the young child's life are dead." So he arose, took the young child and his mother, and came into the land of Israel. But when he heard that Archelaus reigned in Judea in the place of his father Herod, he was afraid to go there. But being warned in a dream, he departed into the region of Galilee. And when he came, he dwelt in a city called Nazareth, that it might be fulfilled which was spoken by the prophets, 'He shall be called a Nazarene.'" (Matthew 2:1-23 ‑)

What's wrong here? Let's start with the fact that the word "Nazarene" in contemporary Judaism (most likely) has no connection to the city of Nazareth, something the author is simply unaware of. It refers to those Jews who were especially dedicated to God and strove to lead a particularly righteous life. This is what they called themselves—Nazarenes. The author, unaware of this, assumed that the nickname "Nazarene" denoted, as often happens, the city of origin (for example, Joseph of Arimathea was Joseph from the city of Arimathea, Mary Magdalene was from Magdala, and so on). However, I could be wrong here—historians insist that the city of Nazareth existed, and therefore, Jesus could have been called a Nazarene for this very reason.

Now let's talk about the Magi (the Slavic word for "wizard"; in the author's original source, it's "magi"). The first thing that catches the eye is the attitude of devout Jews toward magic, wizards, and everything associated with it—let's say, negative; from their religious perspective, it's considered impure. Therefore, using "magi" in a positive sense in the story, especially as gift-givers and "witnesses" to the Messiah's birth, is nonsense for a Jew. The author could just as easily have written that in honor of Jesus's birth, the Jew Joseph held a feast where he treated guests to pork. The author is clearly not Jewish; he is Greek or (as noted above, most likely) Roman, and therefore, for him, the magicians from the East are, indeed, authority figures.

In Rome, for example, there were priests ‑who predicted the future, for example , by examining the entrails of sacrificial animals. Astrology was also very popular in ancient Rome. Therefore, for someone from classical antiquity, introducing magicians and ‑astrologers into the story as "recommenders" for Jesus as the messiah is a very convincing move. But when transposing this story to a Jewish setting, the effect is as if a modern American director were making a film about ancient Rome, in which Roman legionnaires eat hamburgers and fries for lunch ‑and drink Coca-Cola.

Similarly, for a Roman or a Greek, the East was indeed associated with ancient wisdom—recall Plato's tale of Solon, who studied under the Egyptian priests. But for a Jew, what was the East? Pagan Babylon? The place of captivity and slavery for the Jews after the Babylonians destroyed the First Temple? To put it mildly, not the most fitting associations…

(Looking ahead, Luke's similar story of the "prophecy at the birth of the messiah" is much better—the place of the non-kosher magicians is taken by the Jewish righteous man Simeon and the Jewish prophetess Anna. Luke likes Matthew's idea of a prophecy at the birth of Jesus and uses it, but he doesn't like its specific implementation by the Roman Matthew.)

Next. So, the Magi see a certain star "in the east," the appearance of which, in their opinion, signifies the birth of a Jewish king (by the way, why would they care about some ‑Jewish king?). The first question that inevitably arises is how the Magi understood the star's appearance. Of course, astrologers still love to make predictions based on horoscopes. But the fact is that an astrologer works with certain "rules" by which they calculate future events. And these rules take into account already existing objects, stars, and planets. It's similar to a card reader using a familiar, familiar deck. If such a reader lays out the cards, and some thief secretly slips a non-existent, invented card into the deck, how will the reader be able to understand its meaning? The same goes for a star—how can one interpret a suddenly appearing, previously non-existent object in the sky? "We saw His star in the east" – how did they know it was "His" star, the star of the King of Judea? But oh well, let's chalk it up to the incomprehensible wisdom of Eastern astrologers and magicians ‑…

A better question is: what could this star be? Considering that it simply "appeared," meaning it didn't exist previously? And then, at least long enough for the Magi's journey, continued to be visible? I see three possible options: a supernova explosion, a comet, or some miraculous star—that is, a "beacon" created by God (apparently especially for the Magi) that looked like a star and could act as a "guiding star," meaning it would hover low and act as a kind of navigator, like a smartphone. The Magi's initial behavior corresponds to one of the first two options: they saw the star, immediately realized it signified the birth of the King of Judea (what else could it be), and, in search of him, they headed to Jerusalem, the capital of Judea—quite logical. There they began asking everyone where the newborn king was. And only thanks to the interpretation of the "chief priests and scribes" did they learn that they should head to Bethlehem. (By the way, note the Roman author's complete ignorance of Jewish realities: he uses "chief priests" in the plural, which is impossible; the Jews always had only one high priest.)

And then, suddenly, the star's character changes: now, and only now—after Herod learned that the King of the Jews had been born and where he was born—it transforms from an object by which only the birth of the Messiah could be determined, into a "beacon." That is, into something hanging low enough to be used for orientation, and with which one can even find a specific house. Now it guides the Magi, like a satellite navigator on a smartphone… In short, it behaves as the author desires—first, so that the Magi cannot find Jesus on their own and are forced to ask the people of Jerusalem—that is, so that Herod learns about the baby, and Joseph is forced to flee to Egypt—and then so that the Magi find a specific house.

So, the Magi find the house where Joseph and Mary live and bring gifts to the Child. Afterward, both Joseph and the Magi receive revelations in a dream, causing Joseph and his family to flee to Egypt during the night, while the Magi do not return to Herod. The question inevitably arises: couldn't the Magi have been given a revelation to avoid going to Jerusalem to see Herod, and instead go directly to Bethlehem, having previously set the star to "beacon" mode? Then the innocent babies would have been spared from harm? The answer is obvious: of course not! Otherwise, how could Joseph and his family have ended up as residents of Nazareth in Galilee?

And the second question: why are the Magi bringing gifts at all? And here, too, it's clear: this is simultaneously "evidence" (in quotation marks, of course, since we're talking only about the author's rich imagination) that Jesus was born in Bethlehem, and "evidence" that He is the future King of the Jews (for after all, the mysterious magicians from the East said so, and the star is also "evidence" to that), and finally, if not for the Magi, Herod would have known nothing, and Jesus would have remained a Bethlehemite. And He is supposed to be a Galilean, yes.

And the babies of Bethlehem – who would count them… Only Joseph receives the revelation to flee Bethlehem, and not the fathers of the other babies.

Next, "Herod the king was troubled, and all Jerusalem with him." Let's imagine this situation and consider what should have followed from it. Well, ‑first of all, all of Jerusalem learned that the long-awaited Messiah had been born! And what's more, the magicians who had announced it were planning to find him and bring him gifts! And do you know how far it is from Jerusalem to Bethlehem? As the crow flies, from the Temple Mount to the center of today's Bethlehem, it's just over 8 (in words, eight!) kilometers. Two hours' walk!

Question: What percentage of Jerusalem residents, upon hearing such astonishing news, went with the Magi to see the birth of the long-awaited Messiah? The correct answer: none. Of course, none, otherwise the entire plot would collapse…

And what does Herod do? One would expect him to send servants with the Magi, also bearing gifts, of course, and then find out from them where the baby is. After which, of course, some ‑unfortunate incident would happen to the baby. Robbers, for example, would break into Joseph's house, or something else . ‑This Herod was a remarkably slow-witted king… Incidentally, even if that were true, wouldn't it have been so difficult to send servants to Bethlehem at least later? After all, it's unlikely that the residents of the small town of Bethlehem would have missed such an event as the arrival of three richly dressed (judging by the gifts, which included gold) Eastern men at Joseph's house? Such an event would undoubtedly have been the subject of much gossip, especially since the Magi, as we see, made no secret of who they were looking for or why.

But the author's Herod… orders the murder of all the infants in Bethlehem and the surrounding area, two years old and younger! Excuse me, how can that be? He orders the murder of the future Messiah, and with him, many other Jewish children? In Judea ‑? Near Jerusalem, which was "all troubled," meaning it learned of the Messiah's birth?

For comparison's sake, just over a decade later, the Romans will conduct a census in Judea (the very one mentioned by Luke). It will spark a popular uprising, because Jews, according to their religious beliefs, cannot be counted. Just a census—and then King Herod (who, by the way, was not Jewish and, let's say, was somewhat disliked by the Jews) decides to kill the Jewish Messiah (and, along with him, the Jewish children in Bethlehem, near Jerusalem)?! Not the best suicide option for Herod… It is no coincidence that the real history of Herod's reign, which is well known to modern historians in detail, does not know of any massacre of the innocents (and it is no coincidence that later the author of the Gospel of Luke – who, in fact ‑, was a Jew by origin – will not repeat this story, but will retain Matthew's idea of "born in Bethlehem, raised in Galilee", inventing another reason for this, namely, the census).

However, let's consider how deliberately the author concocts such obvious absurdity. What if Matthew is once again playing with meanings, a rebus? And the obvious absurdity is just another hint? Consider: if we discard the completely unrealistic specifics, it turns out that some outsiders are somehow ‑involved in Jesus's birth— that is, they know about the event in advance. And unusual ones at that ("magicians"). They have been caring for him and his family since birth. And they have known his destiny since birth. And they are guided by a "star," that is, it is precisely a "star" that directs them, in other words, controls them.

Let's leave this as a hint for now; more to come. And one last thing. At the end of the first chapter, Matthew says:

“When Joseph rose from sleep, he did as the angel of the Lord commanded him, and took his wife into his arms, but did not know her. [How] finally she gave birth to her firstborn son , and he called his name Jesus.” (Mark 1:25-26 ‑)

But that's the Synodal Translation. What about the author's original? Like this:

“…and he knew her not until she gave birth to a son and called his name Jesus.”

Feel the difference, as they say. I hope the Synodal translators were paid well for their compromise with their conscience…

The Gospel of Luke

“In the sixth month (amazing! Perhaps you could name the year better? – author) the angel Gabriel was sent from God to a city of Galilee named Nazareth, to a virgin espoused to a man whose name was Joseph, of the house of David. And the virgin’s name was Mary. The angel came in to her and said, ‘Hail, highly favored! The Lord is with you; blessed are you among women.’ But when she saw him, she was troubled at his words and wondered what kind of greeting this could be. Then the angel said to her, ‘Fear not, Mary, for you have found favor with God. 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 Most High, and the Lord God will give him the throne of David. (oops, here the angel made a slight mistake with the prophecy – author) , his father (what? – author) ; and he shall reign over the house of Jacob forever (and here too the angel was wrong – author) , and of his kingdom there shall be no end. Then said Mary to the angel, How shall this be, seeing I know not a man? The angel answered and said unto her, The Holy Spirit shall come upon thee, and the power of the Highest shall overshadow thee: therefore also the Holy One to be born shall be called the Son of God. Behold, thy relative Elizabeth also hath conceived a son in her old age, and this is the sixth month with her, who was called barren: for with God nothing shall be impossible. Then said Mary, Behold the handmaid of the Lord: be it unto me according to thy word. And the angel departed from her. (Luke 1: ‑26-38)

Let's start with the fact that the Synodal translators' attempts to "improve" the Gospels, albeit not as overtly as in ancient times, have not disappeared… The phrase "Rejoice, O full of grace," spoken by the angel upon entering Mary, is translated literally, not according to its meaning. The angel was greeting Mary because "rejoice" was also a common greeting in the Greek language of the time, similar to the wish of health "hello" in Russian, or "good day" (guten tag) in German, or "peace be with you" (shalom) in Hebrew. In the context of conversation, "rejoice" would indeed mean a wish for joy ‑, but as the first word upon entering a house, it is, of course, a greeting. And the correct translation into Russian would sound either “hello, Gracious One” or, better (after all, “hello” sounds somehow too Russian) “greetings , Gracious One.”

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:

“And there was Anna, a prophetess, the daughter of Phanuel, of the tribe of Asher, a woman of a great age, having lived with an husband seven years from her virginity, and being a widow about fourscore and four years old, who did not depart from the temple, but served God with fastings and prayers night and day. And she came at that time and glorified the Lord, and spoke of Him to all who were looking for redemption in Jerusalem.” (Luke 2: ‑36-38)

This "spoke of him to all who were looking for redemption in Jerusalem" simply means that she prophesied that this child was the future Messiah. It was in this sense that the Jews of that time, under Roman occupation, were expecting "redemption." And how did this "all" react, considering that Anna was prophesying directly in the Jerusalem Temple? The author fabricates the words so that by the very next line he forgets what he wrote the line before…

And as for the literal contradiction with Matthew, in which the news of the birth of the future King of the Jews makes Herod want to kill him, only for Joseph and his family to escape to Egypt overnight, there's nothing to say. In Luke, the baby is calmly brought directly to Jerusalem, and they preach about him right there in the Temple. It's a good thing that by that time, Herod is already dead, and Archelaus has already been removed from his post as ruler of Judea. Well, more precisely, it's like this: at the same time, Herod the Great is still alive and killing the infants of Bethlehem while Joseph hides the baby in Egypt, and at the same time, Joseph openly brings him to the Jerusalem Temple, where the righteous Simeon and Anna openly preach about him. But seriously, consider this: even the educated and literate (a rarity in those days!) authors of the Gospels don't even know when—or even approximately—the events took place! Although Matthew and Luke write at roughly the same time, it's believed they wrote in the second half of the first century. And one claims Jesus was born during the reign of Herod the Great, while the other claims it was during the reign of Quirinius! An astonishing level of knowledge… But Luke "knows," word for word, the contents of ‑Mary's private conversation with her relative Elizabeth, which "occurred" before Jesus' birth.

Don't be embarrassed, this is completely normal. It's good that "the world has four directions, and the world has four main winds," right? It's just that each wind blows in its own direction… Logic? Conscientious transmission of information? No, we haven't heard of that.

And another small but interesting detail. A little further on in the text, the author writes that John's father, Zechariah, regained his gift of speech after Elizabeth's child was born, and he delivered a prophetic sermon. It includes the following lines:

“And you, child, will be called a prophet of the Most High, for you will go before the face of the Lord to prepare His ways, to give understanding of salvation to His people by the forgiveness of their sins, according to the compassionate mercy of our God, by which the Dayspring from on high has visited us to give light to those sitting in darkness and the shadow of death , to guide our feet into the way of peace.” (Luke 1: ‑76-78)

It's important to understand the exact meaning of the highlighted phrase here. I've checked the original Greek and am translating it into Russian for you as closely as possible:

" from the depths of the mercy of our God, in which the Rising from on high will visit us to give light to those sitting in darkness and the shadow of death ."

That is, the Synodal translation quite correctly highlighted “East” with a capital letter – it is not about God being above the East (that is, this is not a direct mockery of Matthew, especially since Luke greatly respects his meanings and ideas), but God is called the East.

The Synodal translation's blunders: the present tense is "visited," while in the original the future tense is "will visit," and "East" instead of "Sunrise"—a significant difference, since it's not about the cardinal direction, but about the Sunrise in the face of God illuminating the darkness.

The Synod's motives are perfectly clear, but consider their treachery… To draw the missing parallel here with Matthew's Magi from the East, who were deliberately removed by Luke, and to replace the future coming of the Dawn, which will illuminate those sitting in darkness, with the actual coming of the East in the form of the Magi sent by God. I really, really want to somehow ‑fit the owl onto the globe and reconcile the fundamentally incompatible Matthew and Luke…

As for Luke, his words are, of course, a critical "allaverdi" from him to Matthew and his "wise men from the east." Surprisingly, modern biblical scholars (for example, the highly respected Bart Ehrman) claim that Luke did not rely on Matthew's text, but only on Mark's. Which, of course, is incorrect. And how he did! Simply ideologically, not textually, but in a clear attempt to present it better, reinterpreting it in his own way.

Here's a little something else. Earlier, in the same prophecy, Zechariah says:

“Blessed be the Lord God of Israel , for He has visited His people and redeemed them , and has raised up a horn of salvation for us in the house of His servant David, as He spoke by the mouth of His holy prophets, who have been since the beginning of time, that He would save us from our enemies and from the hand of all who hate us . He would show mercy to our fathers and remember His holy covenant, the oath which He swore to Abraham our father , to give us without fear, after we had been delivered from the hand of our enemies .” (Luke 1: ‑68-74)

Here we see the typical messianic expectations of a Jew of that time. He speaks for the Jewish people and awaits deliverance from Roman occupation, with the triumphant return of the Messiah—the King of Israel. Of course, Luke is a Jew and awaits the coming of the Jewish King in the person of the coming Messiah Jesus.

And let's look at another scene from Luke:

"And when he was twelve years old, they also went up to Jerusalem, as was the custom, for the feast. And when they had completed the days of the feast, and were returning, the child Jesus remained behind in Jerusalem. And Joseph and his mother did not perceive it, but supposed that he was going with the company. And when they had gone a day's journey, they sought him among their relatives and acquaintances. And when they did not find him, they returned to Jerusalem, seeking him.

After three days they found him in the temple, sitting in the midst of the teachers, listening to them and asking them questions. All who heard him were amazed at his understanding and answers.

And when they saw Him, they marveled. And His mother said to Him, “Son, what have You done to us? Behold, Your father and I have been searching for You sorrowing.” He said to them, “Why was it necessary for you to seek Me? Did you not know that I must be about My Father’s business?” But they did not understand the words He spoke to them. (Luke 2:42-50 ‑)

We see here, again, I apologize, another example of "naive art" from Luke. He wants to create a beautiful, pious story (like the Annunciation), but he can't make it believable.

Joseph and Mary didn't notice their son's absence for a whole day's journey (!)?! So he's just gone, all day, so what? He's probably with others… A twelve-year-old boy! Just imagine, dear reader, that you and your family, along with a few other relatives and friends, are setting off on a long journey. And you calmly, let's say, board the train, ignoring the fact that your twelve-year-old son isn't with you, so he remains lost in the crowd on the platform. And then you ride the train all day, still ‑not seeing your son, but it doesn't bother you at all—so what, he's probably in the next car with his friends… Is that even possible? A teenage son, a capital city with its huge crowds flocking to Jerusalem for the holiday! And you leave the city without seeing your son and not worrying about where he is?! And yet, you face a journey through two countries, from Jerusalem to Galilee.

Likewise, Jesus himself “quietly ‑” remains in the Temple, without warning his parents about his decision.

And it's all made up for the sake of Jesus's dramatic final line. Which, incidentally, is just as implausible: what does "or did you not know" mean if Joseph and Mary truly didn't know? Not to mention that it's an inappropriate response, since Mary reproaches him for "what he did to them," causing them "great sorrow." The author's version of Jesus's response implies that his parents should have guessed that he didn't go with them and remained in the Temple to preach?

And, of course, the author's simple-minded desire to show the reader that Jesus, ‑already at the age of twelve, was teaching the teachers of the Law (later, the authors of "apocryphal" texts would reach the point that Jesus could speak immediately after birth, and performed miracles and even raised the dead while still a child. But Luke undoubtedly initiated the development of this theme).

Next, let us consider the scene of Baptism as it is given by the author:

“When all the people were baptized, and Jesus also, when he had been baptized, was praying, heaven was opened, and the Holy Spirit descended upon him in bodily form like a dove. And a voice came from heaven, saying, ‘You are my beloved Son; in you I am well pleased!’” (Luke 3:31-32 ‑)

Then Luke gives the genealogy of Joseph, followed by the following phrase:

“Jesus, full of the Holy Spirit , returned from the Jordan and was led by the Spirit into the wilderness.” (Luke 4:1)

Notice that this is an early Christian understanding of who Jesus is (we see the same thing in Mark): the Holy Spirit descends on Jesus only at baptism, and it is only after that that he becomes filled with the Holy Spirit.

And finally, here's another implausible story. Jesus, after a 40- ‑day fast and temptation in the desert , sets out to preach throughout Galilee, and finally arrives in his native Nazareth. On Saturday, he enters the synagogue, where he reads Scripture. Then he addresses the congregation:

“He said to them, ‘Surely you will say to Me this proverb: Physician, heal Yourself. Do also here in Your own country what we have heard done in Capernaum.’ And He said, ‘Truly I say to you, no prophet is accepted in his own country. Truly I say to you, there were many widows in Israel in the days of Elijah, when the heavens were shut up three years and six months, until there was a great famine throughout the land. And Elijah was not sent to any of them, but to a widow in Zarephath of Sidon. And there were many lepers in Israel in the time of the prophet Elisha, and not one of them was cleansed except Naaman the Syrian.

When they heard this, all in the synagogue were filled with rage. They rose up and threw Him out of the city and led Him to the top of the hill on which their city was built, so that they might throw Him down. But He passed through the midst of them and went away.” (Luke 4:23-30 ‑)

Firstly ‑, refusing to perform a miracle (and that's obviously what they're talking about ) can't be a reason for rage that reaches the point of attempted murder. Secondly ‑, the death penalty among Jews of that time required a trial and verdict by the Sanhedrin and was used in exceptional cases. Can you imagine synagogue-goers dragging another Jew off a mountain for a short sermon (complete with Scripture quotes) and refusing to perform a miracle? And finally, ‑thirdly, this is ancient Israel, a tribal system. By killing a person without due trial, you're encroaching not only on him, but also on a huge number of his relatives. And fourthly, this is Jesus' hometown of Nazareth! Incidentally, Nazareth, according to modern historians, is a tiny town, more like a small village. That is, everyone there knew everyone from childhood, including, of course, Jesus and his parents. And they're planning to kill him there? Jews from the synagogue? And literally for nothing?

According to Jewish law, the death penalty is applied in strictly defined cases, but not arbitrarily, because, ‑supposedly, "they were filled with wrath." This is another simple-minded early Christian tale, of which there would be a great many later. Anyone who has read the apocryphal gospels can appreciate their naivety.

Well, the last thing here about Luke:

“There was a certain rich man, who was clothed in purple and fine linen, and fared sumptuously every day. And there was a certain beggar named Lazarus, who lay at his gate, full of sores, and desiring to be fed with the crumbs which fell from the rich man’s table; and the dogs came and licked his sores. The beggar died and was carried by the angels to Abraham’s bosom. The rich man also died and was buried. And in Hades, being in torment, he lifted up his eyes, and saw Abraham afar off, and Lazarus in his bosom. And he cried out, saying, Father Abraham, have mercy on me, and send Lazarus, that he may dip the tip of his finger in water, and cool my tongue: for I am tormented in this flame. But Abraham said, Son, remember that in your lifetime you received your good things, and Lazarus evil things: “But now he is comforted here, but you are in pain;” (Luke 16:19 ‑25)

This parable, placed by the author in Jesus's mouth, appears only in the Gospel of Luke. In it, Jesus preaches that those who lived well in this life will suffer eternal torment in hell in the afterlife as punishment. So, it's unlikely that Jesus actually said this. However, I can't help but note that the author confirms my personal observations: a person's moral standard, in the vast majority of cases, is directly related to their intellectual level. In Luke, a man is condemned to eternal hell by God's decree for dressing well and eating well in life. And in Luke's Acts, also authored by him, either God or Peter miraculously kills a husband and wife, Ananias and Sapphira, for concealing part of the proceeds from the sale of their property from the Apostle Peter (see the "Miracles" chapter below, where this obvious fabrication is examined in detail).

The Gospel of John

And finally, let's move on to the Gospel of John. Let me remind you that it is the latest of the four canonical Gospels, and historians date it to approximately the end of the first century.

Surprisingly, the latest author acts in the same way as the earliest: he tells us nothing about the "virgin" conception, the circumstances, or the place of Jesus's birth. Note, however, that John and Mark also have in common that, unlike Matthew and Luke, they are the original authors of the texts, rather than editing and supplementing someone else's. John acts in the same way as Mark: he introduces Jesus to the reader through John's opinion of him. Except, perhaps, not from the very first lines: at the beginning of his text, the author of the Gospel inserts a kind of religious poem (which he certainly did not write, but he, of course, does not mention this): "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God (…)", into which he inserts his own lines about John the Baptist, so that at the end of the poem he can move on to the rest of the story of John and the baptism of Jesus:

These things took place at Bethabara beyond the Jordan, where John was baptizing. The next day John seeth Jesus coming toward him, and saith, Behold the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin of the world! This is he of whom I said, After me cometh a man, which is preferred before me: for he was before me. I knew him not: but for this cause came I baptizing with water, that he might be revealed unto Israel. And John bare record, saying, I saw the Spirit descending from heaven like a dove, and it abode upon him. I knew him not: but he that sent me to baptize with water said unto me, Upon whomsoever thou seest the Spirit descending, and abideth upon him, the same is he that baptizeth with the Holy Spirit. And I saw, and testified that this is the Son of God. The next day again John stood, and two of his disciples. And when he saw Jesus coming, he said, Behold the Lamb of God. And when the two disciples heard him speak these words, they followed Jesus. (John 1: ‑29-37)

I wonder, who is this "He who sent" John to baptize in water? God? But a little further in the text, John himself, according to the author of the text, directly denies being a prophet:

“And this is the testimony of John, when the Jews sent priests and Levites from Jerusalem to ask him, ‘Who are you?’ He confessed and did not deny it, but confessed, ‘I am not the Christ.’ And they asked him, ‘What then? Are you Elijah?’ He said, ‘No.’ Are you a prophet? He answered, ‘No.’” (John 1: ‑19-21).

"Testimony"? (Referring to the further prophecy of Jesus as the Messiah). The point here is that in Russian, the word "prophet" means "prophet of the future." But in Judaism, this is not the case; a prophet is not necessarily a foreteller. A prophet in Judaism is someone who carries out God's direct instructions. Accordingly, if John was truly ‑commissioned by God to do or say something, then he is a prophet. But John denies this. Moreover, in this Gospel, he actually foretells Jesus, yet simultaneously refuses to call himself a prophet. Logic? There is none. You might as well look for it in Luke.

The author then adds the supposed “testimony” of several other people about who Jesus is:

“Then Jesus turned and saw them following, and said to them, “What do you seek?” They said to Him, “Rabbi” (which is translated, “Teacher”), “where do you live?” He said to them, “Come and see.” So they came and saw where He lived, and stayed with Him that day. It was about the tenth hour. Now one of the two who had heard about Jesus from John and followed Him was Andrew, Simon Peter’s brother. He first found his brother Simon and said to him, “We have found the Messiah” (which is translated, “Christ”). And he brought him to Jesus. Then Jesus looked at him and said, “You are Simon the son of Jonah; you shall be called Cephas” (which is translated, “A Stone”). The next day Jesus set out to go into Galilee, and finds Philip and said to him, “Follow Me.” Now Philip was from Bethsaida, the same town as Andrew and Peter. Philip finds Nathanael and says to him, “We have found him of whom Moses in the law and the prophets wrote, Jesus of Nazareth, the son of Joseph.” But Nathanael said to him, “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” Philip says to him, “Come and see.” When Jesus saw Nathanael coming toward him, he says of him, “Behold, an Israelite indeed, in whom there is no guile.” Nathanael says to him, “How do you know me?” Jesus answered and said to him, “Before Philip called you, when you were under the fig tree, I saw you.” Nathanael answered him, “Rabbi, you are the Son of God; you are the King of Israel.” (John 1: ‑37-49)

Well, I'll be damned! John the Baptist and his disciples know from the very beginning that Jesus is the Messiah!

Interestingly, Luke and Matthew tell of John the Baptist, in prison, sending two of his disciples (two, that is, as witnesses) to ask Jesus if he is the Messiah ("Are You the Coming One, or do we look for another?"). But in the Gospel of John, John the Baptist immediately knows that Jesus is the Son of God! And Andrew and Nathanael directly call Jesus the Messiah, the King of Israel!

Well, and a mere trifle: according to Mark, it is Jesus who personally invites the brothers Simon (Peter) and Andrew to follow him, and not Andrew who learns about Jesus from John and brings his brother to him:

"Now as he walked by the Sea of Galilee, he saw Simon and Andrew his brother casting a net into the sea: for they were fishermen. And Jesus said to them, 'Follow me, and I will make you become fishers of men.' And they immediately left their nets and followed him" (Mark 1: ‑16-18).

Apparently, John, writing at the end of the first century, could see from afar how Jesus acquired these two disciples…

By the way, since we're talking about John the Baptist, the Gospels tell the story of how and why John was executed:

"Now when Herod heard this, he said [about Jesus – the author], This is John, whom I beheaded; he is risen from the dead. For this same Herod sent and seized John, and bound him in prison for Herodias's sake, his brother Philip's wife; for he had married her. For John had said to Herod, It is not lawful for you to have your brother's wife.

Herodias, however, was angry with him and wanted to kill him, but she could not. For Herod feared John, knowing him to be a righteous and holy man, and he cherished him. He did many things in obedience to him and listened to him with pleasure. A convenient day came when Herod, on the occasion of his birthday, was giving a banquet for his nobles, the captains, and the elders of Galilee. Herodias's daughter came in and danced, pleasing Herod and those who reclined with him. The king said to the girl, "Ask me whatever you wish, and I will give it to you." And he swears to her, "Whatever you ask of me, I will give you, even up to half my kingdom."

She went out and asked her mother , "What should I ask for?" She answered, "The head of John the Baptist." And she went immediately with haste to the king and asked, saying, "I want you to give me this very moment the head of John the Baptist on a platter." The king was saddened, but because of the oath and those who reclined with him, he did not want to refuse her. And immediately the king sent his armor-bearer and commanded that his head be brought. He went and cut off his head in the prison, and brought his head on a platter and gave it to the girl, and the girl gave it to her mother." (Mark 6: ‑16-28)