Was Christianity ultimately good for the world or bad?
In the previous post I began to sum up the significance of my study of Jesus’s influence on our modern sense of morality; I ended by talking about how Christianity is often attacked for all the harm it has done, for example in pogroms against Jews leading to the Holocaust, the Crusades and the ongoing hatred of Muslims, the Inquisition – torturing people to death for believing the wrong things. In addition to these major historical events, one also has to consider how it is that many Christians today advocate radical nationalism, racism, sexism, homophobia, Islamophobia, anti-Semitism, the slaughter of civilians, and the burning of the planet—all claiming Christ is on their side. When other Christians say these views and actions are not “Christian,” I readily agree they are not consistent with the teachings of Jesus. But they certainly are “Christian” – done by self-professed followers of Jesus often in his name.
I pick up here by looking at the positive side, in one of those rare attempts in modern discourse to consider both sides of an issue. All this, again, comes from the Conclusion of my book Love Thy Stranger: How the Teachings of Jesus Transformed the Moral Conscience of the West (Simon & Schuster).
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At the same time, I also know there is another side, and it too needs to be given full credit, not as a way of mitigating the horrors, but as a way of seeing that very few religions, philosophies, or ideologies are thoroughly, incontrovertibly, inherently evil, just as none is thoroughly, incontrovertibly, inherently good. The reason for this reality is, or at least should be, obvious: ideologies are believed and enacted by humans, and humans are both terribly flawed and filled with great moral potential.
I often get asked, usually by non-Christians, whether I think, on balance, the Christian faith has done more good or evil in the world. I always reply that the question is unanswerable. There are no cosmic scales or AI-generated algorithms to provide an approximate, let alone, decisive answer. History is long, religion is complex, and good and evil are variable, coming in shades and degrees. What I will say, even to my non-Christian friends, is that even if we were preternaturally able to look at all the specific effects of the Christian faith in just about every time and place, we would find the same generalized answer: in addition to the terrible suffering that the Christian faith and those who follow it have created and are still creating, there is also a lot of good. We are remiss if we fail to notice it.
Much of the good brought to the world by the Christian faith has involved an important shift in the understanding of what it means to be a good person, a moral agent, and truly human. Unlike what could generally be found in the Greek and Roman worlds, the Jewish tradition that Jesus inherited and embraced stressed acting in love not only toward family members, friends, and those who could become friends but even complete strangers, especially needy members of the community. Jesus, possibly like other Jewish teachers before him, universalized this principal. God was the God of the whole world and everyone in it. To be right with God meant to live for others, whoever they were, whatever they looked like, wherever they lived or came from. Love of all, especially those in need, was paramount, even if it required some sacrifice. Even if it required the ultimate sacrifice.
The followers of Jesus believed his own life and death were models to be followed. It is true that few Christians in the decades, centuries, and then millennia after his death adhered to his teachings literally.[i] But, on the whole, they have thought that living for others was an essential element in being a thinking and moral person. It is very difficult to quantify the impact of this shift in ethical perspective, not just on individual lives but also on the social and political agendas of the Western world. We can, however, see the concrete results all around us. It was the Christian movement that led to the creation of public hospitals, orphanages, old persons’ homes, poorhouses, private charities, and governmental programs dealing with disaster relief, poverty, hunger, and homelessness.[ii] Whether or not these institutions would have evolved in some other way based on other influences is impossible to know; what we can say is that they were Christian interventions.
Equally if not more important changes occurred on the personal level, in our moral vision of what it means to live in this world. I obviously do not mean that everyone in the West became and remains a committed altruist. After reading this morning’s news, I think a strong case can be made otherwise. There are more than enough people all around us, now as always, and in scarily increasing numbers, even among those who most loudly proclaim their commitment to Christ and his teachings, who do not share an altruistic impulse toward strangers (or even family members), who live in complete isolation from others or, worse, who seek society in order to dominate it, striving for their own good at all costs and showing zero concern for the welfare of others—from the solipsistic tyrant to that egomaniacal narcissist who lives next door.
But that is not most of us. Most of us continue to sympathize with those who are in pain or turmoil or danger. We want to help those in need, even if we don’t know who they are. We see it not just as something we ought to do, but something we want to do. If we choose not to do much or anything at all, we sometimes feel pangs of guilt and regret.
Why is that? The sense that we should help strangers in need did not come from our prehistorical ancestors, nor from the Greek and Roman worlds at the foundation of our civilization. It came from the social pressures asserted on the Western world by the moral instruction of early Christians based principally on the teachings of Jesus. Eventually, it came to be simply how people thought and felt, part of our psyche. Jesus, in the end, transformed the moral conscience of the West.
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[i] On the question of whether the widely held sense that early Christians were routinely, systematically, and brutally persecuted see Moss, The Myth of Persecution, esp. 127–62.
[ii] It may seem obvious to some readers that these institutional changes would have appeared anyway, without Christian involvement. I am not so sure, both because of the deeply embedded cultural assumptions in that world prior to Christianity and because of the unusual social and cultural forces that brought changes after the West became predominantly Christian. In any event, whether something else would have made the necessary social, political, cultural, and economic interventions necessary, it was Christianity that did so.
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Excellent NIHB. How far into the Biblical text do we get real figures? Joel Baden states for example, that David is a fictional character.
I’m not sure he thinks there was no David, does he? His book on David describes what he thinks we can say about the historical David, if I remember correctly. He certainly thinks (as do I) that most of the stories we have about him are either fiction or fictionalized, but that ain’t the same.
It’s out!!!!!!!!
Great article.
When I was an atheist, I frequently asserted that Christians were the worst human beings on the planet, or whatever. In reality, like everyone else they’re kind of a mixed bag. I don’t know how on earth I, at the time a 20 y/o unemployed HS dropout, thought I was intelligent and learned enough to definitively generalize the beliefs and behavior of 2.5 billion people. The arrogance. Yeesh.
I’m so excited about your new book. I like to learn about world religions and find that, while certainly still valuable as religious traditions, many other religions don’t hit the altruism nail quite as hard as Christianity. In fact, I’d say this altruism is what won me over from my stagnant agnosticism.
I just had one question: You seem to write about Roman/Greek society quite a bit. Do you ever touch on Celtic and Germanic/Norse? I ask because these groups obviously became Christian post-Rome and I was curious as to the kinds of cultural diffusion that happened there.
I’ll let you know what I think of the book when I read it. Have a great day Dr. Ehrman.
I’m afraid I don’t know! It’s amazing what I don’t know….
Dr. Ehrman,
The God of King David and King Solomon (and Pharaoh Psusennes) of the 10th and 9th centuries BCE, in terms of architecture CANNOT COMPETE with the Osirion and the Giza Plateau (including what is beneath it–there are accounts that the three pyramids and the Sphinx are connected underground).
Regarding the Osirion [See YouTube Channel: Secret Discovery, Video: Egypt’s Most Impossible Structure – The 100 Ton Underground Temple No One Can Explain], there is a symbolic primordial mound, the central platform surrounded by water, representing the ancient Egyptian concept of the Benben, the first land that emerged from the primordial waters at creation.
The Osirion and the Giza Plateau are far more advanced than Solomon’s Temple and far more advanced than Herod the Great’s renovation of the Temple of Jerusalem.
So, why am I hanging out with a God (and Jesus) who cannot compete, in terms of architecture ? ? ?
There shouldn’t be a temple greater than what God in the Holy Bible has done.
There should be no other God before me ? Really? And God cannot win a building competition?
The hardcover has officially landed on my shelf. I’m clearing my schedule to start reading immediately!
Yowser!
Being a science writer who has written a book about human evolution, I would disagree with your statment that helping strangers in need didn’t come from our prehistoric ancestors. Generalized prosociality is a basic trait of primates and the foundation for more sophisticated expressions such as empathy toward strangers. It isn’t limited to primates either–in experimental situations rats will sometimes come to the aid of strange rats, even at a cost to themselves.
Prosociality involved the group, right? Not, say, it’s attackers.
All species engage in altruistic behavior; otherwise they would not have survived. Darwin, of course, realized this (honeybees etc.) even without knowing about genes. Jesus’ teachings involves extramural altruism, for the complete “other.” That’s the difference I’m referring ot.
Actually, this is an easy question for me to answer. For the last 40 years I have been dealing with a group of men, including myself, who were sexually abused by a church elder in the Brethren-in-Christ Church named Frank Fimiano. Unbelievably, one of the most common defenses I would hear from church leadership is that they acknowledge Frank did some bad things, but asked me think about all the good things he has done. This is a microcosm of the macrocosm question Bart tackles in this post. My response is to always encourage people to consider the entire “package.” When I do, it becomes clearly obvious that the evilness of religion far outweighs the good. It is a system contrived to hold power and make money. It’s main process for growth involves getting children indoctrinated at the earliest possible time. There are two things that need to happen for me to believe it is turning a corner to becoming good: 1. All religion needs to no longer be exempt from taxes. 2. Religious teachings to children need to be categorized as child abuse. Perhaps then some good things might occur.
I’m so sorry to hear about this.
I’m so sorry to hear about this.
You mentioned that very few religions are inherently evil or good, and then provided what you thought to be the obvious reason: that they are believed and enacted by people.
With respect to Christianity, not only is that not the OBVIOUS reason – it’s not the reason.
The human element will always add a level of variability to moral judgement, but when it comes to Christianity, it’s not the root of the problem.
Christianity itself is the problem. Not only is it filled with problematic passages, but it’s ambiguous and contradictory, which allows it to be misinterpreted and manipulated to support just about anything – good or bad.
Its very nature and design is why it has always been and will always be a significant source of harm.
It doesn’t matter if it also supports good actions, or even if it supports more good than bad. If the bad actions it supports cause significant harm, then it must be completely disregarded as any sort of basis for morality.
Christianity is a set of norms, values, and practices – some of which are moral, and some of which are not.
It should never be used as justification for moral judgements.
Did the historical figure of Jesus think that his god was the god of the entire world? We do not know.
Verses in the gospels indicate he did not. His initial reaction to the Syrophoenican woman in Mark 7 is hardly inclusive and his instructions to his disciples in Matthew 10 to avoid gentiles and Samaritans do not indicate he was out to convert the world.
A crucial question is: *Why* did Christianity teach a kind of universal altruism? And one answer is that it aspired to obliterate the dominion of tribalized moral boundaries and to establish a system of government that in effect sought to melt together all the tribes (of the Roman world) into one “body of Christ.” Good or bad or both, it was a response to a very old problem in that world: the failure of tribalism for centuries to provide a meaningful ideology given the facts on the ground (specifically, warring empires).
My sense is that it is becuase of the apocalyptic vision that would involve teh transformation of the world, not just salvation for Israel.
True; the question is what *was* the apocalyptic vision (or rather evolving visions). We see an earlier form in which Israel ascends to rulership of an empire in “late” Isaiah, with promotions available to some goyim. The Qumran community evidently envisioned a divinely-assisted military victory over Rome. Paul, and I gather some of his predecessors in the Jesus movement realized that armed victory over Rome was a pipe dream and began thinking of non-violent means to the same end (by what I would describe as subversion of a severely dysfunctional empire still wedded to a kind of de jure tribalism that lacked any theory of government adequate to the de facto situation). That, I think, was Paul’s vision. Am I wrong?
Ah, the short answer is easy. There wasn’t just one vision. And the ones we know about can’t be traced in linear fashion, chronologically. It does seem pretty certain that some apocalypticists though they were to be involved in battling God’s enemies (Qumran) others not (Jesus).
Indeed. I’m referring primarily to what Paul himself characterizes as his conversion, allegedly on the road to Damascus. One chronological difference between what Paul says and what Acts says is the three-year interlude that Paul claims occurred after his stay in Damascus during which he allegedly made a trip to Arabia before visiting the brothers in Jerusalem – not to mention differences in whom he spoke to and with what results when he finally got there. IMO, Paul had strong self-interested reasons for dissembling in this way. Those reasons characterize his entire career.
I have long maintained: Bart is very kind and understanding. Too kind? Well, I admit I think so, but I have read and tried to understand because he knows way more than I do, and he thinks about these things way more than I do. And I have learned A LOT on this site. So I try and rein in my anti-religious prejudice. A bit.