Oh Christ! Not the REAL Story


© 2009 Paul Seymour
The Greatest Story Ever Told by a bloke from Down Under

This story was not written to offend anyone or undermine their faith but it probably will.
It’s ‘The Greatest Story Ever Told’ interpreted by an ordinary bloke, who’s sick of the supernatural bullshit
that somehow got stuck to what should have been a simple message of peace and love.
It’s the same story but with some interesting, researched information that was conveniently left out of the original
, and a bit of down-under humour. Apart from a few speculative embellishments,
the characters and story are factual. Any resemblance to fictional or biblical people is purely intentional.

Once upon a time there was this young Jewish sheila called Maria, who got ‘up the duff’. In ancient Hebrew the word for 'unmarried mother' was the same word for 'virgin'. So, years later when the story was being flogged, they thought it would sound more magical if they said she was a virgin mother rather than a careless teenager. The ‘virgin birth’ wasn’t very original. Other religions had also used the idea and gods often raped women to create superheroes. Hercules was born because Zeus got horny and bonked a mortal. As for the Norse gods, well they knocked off more sheilas than you could poke a Viking at. ‘Sons of gods’ were always popular.

Anyway, back in Bethlehem: Maria and her de facto Joe, who was a young tradesman, had been travelling for a while, maybe to get away from Herod, the baby killer, or from Maria’s angry family, who’d cut off Joe’s balls if they caught him because maybe Joe wasn’t Jewish and wouldn’t have been allowed to marry his girlfriend, who knows? She was very pregnant and about to pop so they dossed down for the night in a stable.

Meanwhile these three supposedly wise blokes, from somewhere far away, had been on a quest to see if an old prophesy was true. They reckoned that a kid would be born who’d grow up to tell them, and everyone else, how they should live. The way people had been doing things was pretty shit-house and needed to change or else, they reckoned, their god would get the shits and kill everything! He must have been a grumpy old bastard.

Apparently, they saw a bright star and decided it was a sign so they headed towards it and ended up in Bethlehem. They came across the stable where Maria had just had the baby while Joe probably just about shat himself. Whether Heaven helped them or an old midwife from town, we don’t know but somehow the young couple bumbled through, and the bub was laid in a food trough lined with hay, or so they say.

The ‘wise’ blokes told the disbelieving couple that their son was a prophesied messiah (which in the old lingo just means ‘messenger’) and that he would grow to be a great teacher. They gave him shit-loads of gold, frankincense and myrrh, whatever that is. The couple thanked them for the presies but took what they said with a pinch of salt. Anyway, Joe had other plans for his son. He wanted him to make furniture like he did.

The years passed and Joe taught the little bloke, Jes, all he knew but Maria wanted him to learn more than just carpentry. She managed to talk Joe into approaching the local monastery in Nazareth to see if the kid could go to school there. Monks were pretty smart blokes, you see.

The Nazarenes, as the monks were called, had a philosophy of absolute peace and harmony with all life. They believed it was wrong to kill anything, even plants. They were real hippy vegetarians and their tucker was only what was given freely: fruits, grains, eggs, dairy and vegies that could be harvested harmlessly. They were probably big on goat’s cheese.

Naturally their beliefs were unpopular with a lot of people, especially the bloody Romans, whose economy was largely based on animal farming. The rich Romans were disgusting when it came to food. ‘Nothing succeeds like excess’, was their motto. They ate and drank way too much, then chundered it up to make room for more. They ate a lot of meat and didn’t seem to care how cruelly animals were kept or slaughtered. They weren’t all that nice to other people, either. A pretty cruel lot, they were.

Sure, they were incredible builders and had aqueducts, sanitation, hospitals and all sorts of real clever things but they used slaves to do their hard yakka and they conquered other races willy-nilly. They forced their rule, eventually, on a third of the known world and took over the most popular religion, calling it their own. They changed a few bits they didn’t like and added some bullshit from old religions like: the ‘virgin birth’, resurrection and statue worship… but I’m getting ahead of myself.

Back in Nazareth, at the Essene Monastery, where the Nazarenes hung out, young Jes, who was probably about twelve, started school. The monks taught him readin’, rite’n and religion. Whether they knew about the prophesy the three ‘wise’ blokes believed, or not, we don’t know, but Jes learnt the Essene ways, When he was old enough he went out into the town and taught their kind, hippy ways to the idiot masses who were hungry for anything that might save them from a boring, meaningless life.
There were lots of religions around at the time but a bloke called Abraham a long time before, had said people should only worship one of the gods, the one called Jehovah or Yahweh. Even the Romans didn’t believe much in all their old gods any more. They’d kind of lost their way, spiritually, but they tolerated the religions of their conquered races because it kept them happy, and happy subjects are easier to control.

The trouble with the new form of Abe’s religion, that the Essene teachers were flogging, was that it made its believers strong in their faith. So strong, in fact, they weren’t afraid of death and had the guts to stand up to the bully-boy tactics of the bloody Romans.

Jes had studied at the monastery for many years then travelled far and wide, including, some reckon, India to learn the ways of that Buddha bloke. The Essene teachings, apparently, were based on that big guy’s wisdom. Jes came back to his homeland in the Middle East and started his own brand of religion: a kind of Abrahamic/Essene Buddhism.

After he’d been spreading the word for about three years he’d become a bit of a pop-star preacher, a Rockin’ Rabbi who had a big following of fans who liked being told that kindness was cool, and doing good things made you feel good, and if you were very good you’d go to this really nice place when you snuffed it. ‘Loving your enemy’ was bullshit, to most people at the time, and as for ‘turning the other cheek’, like Jes apparently did when he was slapped, well… Even animals bite back when they’re hurt. Yet, the new message from the Rockin’ Rabbi and, apparently, the ‘One God’, was that we should never hit or hurt anything or anyone. And it caught on.

All the Essenes wrote diaries and occasionally added their own snippets to the ‘Scriptures’ that were kept at the monastery. Jes, too, wrote a very nice paper (or at least papyrus) called ‘The Essene Gospel of Peace’. It was all about being kind to animals as well as people. He reckoned that to hurt an animal for any reason, even for food, was really bad and Jehovah would get the shits severely and your soul would be buggered.

Apparently even Mohammed, one of the other religious pop-stars from Tea-towel Land, also said that animals were just like people and should be treated with the same kindness. In places where animals aren’t hurt or eaten, there’s very little violence! It makes you wonder if all the wars, rapes and murders in the World might have only happened because we got that one part of ‘the message’ wrong. It’s like a curse on humanity.
‘Do to others what you’d like them to do to you’ probably doesn’t just mean other people and ‘You shall not kill’ probably means don’t kill anything! Somehow our idiot ancestors thought that animals were here just for us to use. Apparently not, according to Moh, Bud and Jes, and other smart blokes like that Leonardo fella and Einstein. Christ, we buggered that one up, didn’t we?

Anyway, back at The Dead Sea, which is a really salty, nasty patch of water where bugger-all lives, the monks would often tootle off along its shores in their daily meditation. It wasn’t far from the Essene Monastery and near it were high cliffs honeycombed with caves, the significance of which you’ll soon discover.

When the Roman authorities first got wind of the popularity of the new religion, they weren’t that worried. When they heard of this new teacher who encouraged people not to eat animals and not to be afraid of Romans or even death, well, they started to get a bit bothered. Rome needed fear to control the masses. It still does, going by some Catholics I’ve known.

It wasn’t long before soldiers were sent out to police the trouble spots. Then there were raids on places where fans of the new ‘Rabi hung out. They even raided the monastery. Luckily the monks had got wind of it and managed to piss off with some of their scriptures and hid them. Dozens of scrolls, including The Essene Gospel of Peace, were taken and hidden high up in those caves I mentioned earlier. They sealed them in clay pots which sat there for centuries. Then one day, in the twentieth century, a shepherd boy was throwing stones in the area. One of the stones went into a cave and he heard a smash. Later investigation revealed the clay pots containing ‘The Dead Sea Scrolls’… but again, I’m ahead of myself.

Well, poor old Jes was in a shit-load of trouble. The Romans didn’t really want to kill him. The local sheriff for their neck of the woods, Pontius Pilate, was a fair bloke. He just wanted to keep the peace and keep his bosses happy so he’d keep his job. The old-school Jewish church elders, like most Jews, were faithful believers in the teachings of one of Abraham’s sons. Unfortunately, these old bastards had ruled the roost for way too long and were jealous of the pop-star Nazarene. They probably didn’t like The Essenes anyway. The ‘new-age’ approach to their old religion would have pissed them off severely.

According to the law, Jes had farted in the face of Rome’s authority but hadn’t done any real harm. Pilate would have been happy for him to get a bit of a flogging, send him on his way and be done with it. The church elders saw the situation as an opportunity to get rid of this hippy and get a foot in the door again with their own faith. They whipped up support with a bit of propaganda and false gossip and, of course, the idiot masses soon turned against their new Rabbi.

Well, you’ve probably heard some of the rest of the story. This poor young carpenter’s son was flogged severely, then tied to a post with spikes through his wrists and left to die, just like hundreds of other criminals had been. Some reckon he did die up there but others say he was rescued like a lot of them were. Then his tomb was found empty, which gave the story tellers another supernatural twist to the tale: that he rose from the dead. There’s one account that says he actually lived another twenty years in a city far away but eventually was killed when the city was besieged. Whatever the truth, the legend lives on.

The biggest problem, though, is that after Rome finally stopped torturing the Rockin’ Rabbi’s followers three hundred years later, a bloke called Constantine, who was top dog at the time, decided that everyone should start to believe that Jes was the son of God (something he never called himself) and that Rome would now be the centre of its new religion.

For ages scholars had squabbled over which of the scriptures were to be kept and which would be chucked out. A lot of the good ones like the one Jes wrote and half of the ‘Book of Isaiah’, were still hidden in those caves. Eventually they settled on only four of the books and bits of them had to be edited to suit Rome’s political needs. They also dredged up and re-wrote a lot of old stories, from before, and stuck them at the front of the bibliography. That bibliography was proclaimed as God’s Word but it was actually a hotch-potch of stuff written by different blokes who couldn’t agree.

For years afterwards millions more people were tortured and terrified into following this once peaceful religion. Kings and emperors tried to stamp out all competition including the Jews, who were, of course, blamed for Jes’ death. The Islamic religion, which was started by the other son of Abraham, was condemned as evil too. The fighting between the followers of Abe’s two sons continues even today. Stupid bastards.

The so-called descendent of one of Jes’ disciples, Peter, set himself up as the first Pope and, unlike the ‘Rabbi, most of the Popes who followed lived in wealth and splendour, often sponsoring ships to seek out and plunder the wealth of other non-Christian races. Shit-loads of gold were brought back to Rome and, to this day, the bloody Roman Church is the richest bunch of bastards in the whole World!

Guilt about so-called sin, fear of eternal buggery and the bribery of eternal heavenly pleasure, were used to bully followers into giving their money to the filthy-rich church, and believing in bullshit that Jes and the Essenes never taught. Christ, he’d turn over in his grave if he had one.

Of course, lots of people who weren’t afraid of the big bad Pope, protested against Roman rule. These protesters or Protestants, formed their own churches which ended up just as corrupt and their followers still didn’t get it. Christianity was never supposed to be about what fairy tales you believed in, or about telling God how bloody wonderful he was.

People who now live the way the ‘Rabbi wanted us to, are the true Christians but they usually don’t go to church and have you ever noticed that the people who bash with Bibles are often real fuckwits?

Basically, for all the efforts of a really nice bloke two thousand years ago, nearly everyone in the World has missed the point. The stupid idiots worship the messenger but they’ve forgotten the message:
Be nice to everyone and everything, no matter what…

And we’ll all live happily ever after.

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