Jesus of Nazareth: What He Wanted, Who He Was

Jesus was apparently interpreted from the first moment of his appearance and in entirely different ways. There was the initially tentative but still believing interpretation of those who followed him. This culminated in the confession: “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God” (Matt 16:16). Then there was the interpretation, quite ambivalent in many respects, by those who did not follow him but went out to see him, many of whom apparently thought he was the Baptizer returned or one of the earlier prophets (Matt 16:14). And finally there was the aroused reaction of his opponents, who were sure that he was driving out demons with the aid of the head demon (Mark 3:22). Interpretations, then, from the outset: which was correct? It is unavoidable, at the beginning of this book, to delve more fully into the relationship between “fact” and “interpretation.”

The So-Called News

Let us begin with what appears to be the simplest kind of question: what is the nature of the facts communicated to us by the media? When a young person begins to read the newspaper seriously, or starts to gather information from news broadcasts, she or he may still believe that all the events in the world can be summarized in the daily news. Perhaps one might even be as nave and innocent as Count Bobby, of whom it is said that one day he observed, quite astonished: “What a good thing it is that every day just enough happens in the world to fill a whole newspaper.” But one day we awake from our childish faith that the events of the world can be adequately summed up in the daily news. At some point every critical newspaper reader, radio listener, television viewer, or internet user realizes that the media can only relate a tiny section of what is really happening in the world.

The “news,” for example, that reaches newspaper readers in the United States or Germany, or those who are faithful followers of the nightly news is, from a purely geographical point of view, extremely limited. Lands like Burma or Burundi, Togo or Tanzania only appear occasionally in our media. What is presented to us as news from within our shores is in itself a profoundly limited selection. And what do we hear about our own country? We get what amounts to an excess of partisan quarrels and assessments of the social or economic situation, much of it in the form of statements prepared in cabinet departments, party headquarters, or the offices of interest groups. Then comes the “cultural” sector, where nearly every segment reflects the subjective opinion of the correspondent carried to an extreme. After that we get sports, which in Germany means mostly soccer, in the United States football, basketball, baseball, and maybe hockey. Then there are the usual sensational stories that are to the media like spice in the stew: news of terrorist acts, murders, robberies, rapes, affairs, explosions, mine disasters, fires, weather crises, plane crashes. And finally there are those stories that always seem a little odd, on the model of “man bites dog.”

News programs of this sort are an unimaginably tiny and often subjective slice of reality. For what makes up the reality of world events is not first of all scurrilous doings, World Cup contests, accidents, and political quarrels, and not just movements in the social network and the economy.

Where do the real changes happen in the world?—the things that move peoples to the depth of their souls?—the things that petrify them or drive them forward?—that will incite this or that revolution or prevent it?—that destroy dreams or bestow new hope? Does any of that show up in the news? Can it be adequately shown?

A British computer scientist supposedly fed three hundred million so-called facts into a machine he programmed, nicely named “True Knowledge.” He wanted to find out which was the most boring day of the twentieth century. The computer found it: it was April 11, 1954. On that day, supposedly, nothing important happened: no famous person was born; no celebrity died; nothing exploded; no war broke out; no house collapsed.²

The way the media think is clearly revealed in this absurd computer game: an event has to be something that shrieks, stinks, or explodes. Incidentally, April 11, 1954, was a Palm Sunday. In case it might have been that on that day even a few thousand believers took the beginning of Holy Week and the entry of Jesus into his city so much into their hearts that their lives were somehow changed, then on that day a great deal happened, and it was very important indeed.

The So-Called Fact

So the question we have already hinted at finally comes to the fore: what is a historical fact, after all? We are all too ready to speak of facts, realities, true reality, actual events, undeniable facts. For a while now, politicians have been wont to say, “The fact is that.…”