I hope everyone understands that to talk of a man who rejected material success in terms of his material success is a bit of a non-sequitur. 

Bart brought up the Stoics recently–the most famous practitioners of Stoic philosophy in daily life are probably Cato the Younger and Marcus Aurelius, both of whom were powerful wealthy men who were famous in their own lifetimes. 

Cato the Younger fought the rise of Caesar with everything he had, and failed.  Refusing Caesar’s pardon, he killed himself–but it was a botched suicide, leading to a death that was anything but dignified.  He left no writings behind him other than a short letter.  We know him entirely through the writings of others, who held him up as an exemplar of Republican virtues, and he was a great influence on many statesmen across many centuries (even though he was ultimately a failure as a statesman). 

Marcus Aurelius inherited the Empire Caesar had created (lliterally) over Cato’s dead body.  He left a lot of very influential writings behind him, won a number of wars, ruled reasonably well (not as well as some others who didn’t hold to Stoic philosophy, including Constantine), and left the Empire to his son Commodus, who he had gone to great  pains to educated the same way he had been educated, but for whatever reason, it didn’t take, and Commodus left everything his father had built in ruins (and who would be more to blame for that than the man who raised and then elevated him–which he did not have to do). 

Marcus Aurelius also tried (rather brutally, which conflicted with certain aspects of his personal philosophy) to discourage the rise of Christianity.  Which would become the dominant religion in the Empire (and of the Emperor himself) a bit over a century later. 

He is still widely read and admired.  Cato continues to inspire people today (though sadly, most people hear that name and think of Bruce Lee in a chauffeur’s uniform). 

Both of these men are largely remembered today because the Christians who inherited the Roman world they had both served came to admire them, and Christian monks worked hard to preserve writings by and about them during the Dark Ages. I would point out that in the Greco-Roman world, that Christianity came to dominate, failure and defeat did not necessarily dishonor you.  A vanquished foe who had striven bravely and well was treated with great respect–and his legacy might well live on after him, come to eclipse that of those who had defeated him (posterity remembered Hannibal far more than Scipio). 

Unless you’re talking about such easily enumerable things as material wealth, rank, or victory in war (none of which meant anything to Jesus), Success and Failure are not so simple to ascertain, wouldn’t you say?  As an historian once asked, was Napoleon victor or vanquished?  I would say more the latter because no living state is governed by the Napoleonic Code (except maybe Louisiana, and is that really a good thing?) 

The ultimate victory for a thinker is to have his or her ideas remembered and implemented.  And by that standard, no one is as successful as Jesus.  And yet, his ideas have been used in ways he would not have endorsed, and the world he imagined is as far away as it was the day he was crucified.  So you tell me. 

Neurotheologian said

godspell said
I hope everyone understands that to talk of a man who rejected material success in terms of his material success is a bit of a non-sequitur. …………….   [………………………………………..]
…..The ultimate victory for a thinker is to have his or her ideas remembered and implemented.  And by that standard, no one is as successful as Jesus.   

Ahemmm, who said anything about material success vs failure of Jesus?  Not me.  I specifically said the success of his ministry and mission, but otherwise I broadly agree with your well made points. 

As for the ultimate victory (success) of Jesus, I think this was more than just his fame and the usefulness of his ideas extending to the present day like no other.  I think the historical Jesus was ‘in on’ the ‘Mesianic secret’ and thus succesful in mission and minsitry in his own eyes.   His sustained fame and teaching, together with his suffering and the question of his alleged resurrection, have actually served to keep the focus on him throughout history and thus on the issue of whether he was really the lamb of God or not.  

I wasn’t referring to you personally (“I hope everyone understands…” is hardly aimed at you personally, nor does that statement assume anyone doesn’t understand) so ahemmmmm, judge not lest ye be judged.  It’s hard for me to believe we’re all on the same page here, since we are after all having a sort of debate.  😉

Robert said

I’m not sure this is true. The teachings of Jesus were transformed exceedingly quickly into being almost exclusively teachings about Jesus long before there was any Church with an upper-case ‘C’. If you’re speaking of Paul or some other New Testament authors as representing some kind of inchoate and unconscious ‘churchification’ process, I might agree perhaps. Is that what you mean or do you have something else in mind?   

In fact, early Christians seem to have been mainly quite exemplary people.  They refrained from violence, theft, cruelty.  They fed the poor, the visited the sick and the imprisoned, they even tended to people suffering from deadly infectious diseases at the cost of their own lives.  They knew very well what Jesus had commanded of them (the gospels clearly do preserve actual teachings of Jesus), and they really did go out of their way to live up to those commandments.  It was only when Christianity became a mass religion, an institution, that people belonged to just because it was the thing to do, that the inevitable compromises began–and even so, in every generation, there would be those who heard the real message lying underneath all the self-serving twaddle. And, of course, it became increasingly obvious that the Kingdom wasn’t coming–but it seems like the good behavior lasted a lot longer than the hope of imminent salvation did.  It seems like for many, virtue really was its own reward.  Perhaps–I’m just guessing–because Perfect Love casteth out all fear, and it was good to feel fearless. 

Dostoevsky didn’t write the The Grand Inquisitor because he thought Christianity was what Jesus intended.  There has long been an awareness that it isn’t, and then the debate is “What would be?”  We know the answer.  We shrink from it.  Like the man with many possessions.  But not everyone shrinks from it.  There are real Christians today.  I don’t claim to be one of them. 

Understood, but I’m not sure that’s true, based on how Christians behaved.  We can’t go entirely by what’s in the gospels themselves.  The gospels weren’t widely read for some time after they were first written.  They were, you might say, four preliminary outlines for what Christianity could become, none of which was followed to the letter. 

The process, having begun, continued–nothing remains static.  I would argue that the things Jesus really said always held more conviction and core integrity than the things imputed to him, and so those teachings carried force out of conviction to their number.  As did early Christianity itself. 

All systems work like this, always take on forms their creators couldn’t have imagined–so are all creators failures–because what they created took on a life of its own?