Because we see and understand the world through postmodern eyes, we often misunderstand, misinterpret, and struggle to rationalize many ancient theological claims.

The scriptures and much of the Christian theology are rooted in ancient forms of thinking and reasoning. 

The ancients relied on mythopoetic, allegorical, and metaphorical reasoning in ways we do not today. Our scriptures and early Church writings reflect this ancient worldview.

The ancients knew nothing about science, biology, or psychology. They did not approach history in the same way we do today. 

If we hope to make sense of theological claims, then we must recognize this disconnect. We must understand that today’s intellectual mindset often can’t get beyond initial category errors and our insistence on engaging theology and religious texts on our current intellectual terms. 

For example, the contemporary mindset is primed to read the scriptures literally and interpret the ancient texts as making scientific or historical claims. 

The postmodern, postsecular, naturalistic, factual-based mindset colors not just the reasoning of non-religious individuals but also Christians, including Christian theologians, pastors, scholars, and teachers. 

We have to approach theology and sacred writings with new intellectual lenses — ones that were crafted using ancient techniques. 

Theology, science, and history each employ distinct methodologies to pursue truth, shaped by their unique goals and sources of knowledge. These differences reflect their approaches to understanding reality.

Unlike empirical disciplines, theology prioritizes spiritual insight over testable evidence, although some theologians integrate reason or historical context to refine their doctrines.

Science, in contrast, pursues knowledge of the natural world through empirical observation and experimentation. Its methodology, the scientific method, involves forming hypotheses, conducting controlled experiments, and analyzing data to confirm or refute predictions.

History investigates the past to understand human events and their causes. Its methodology blends qualitative analysis with primary sources—documents, artifacts, or oral accounts—and secondary interpretations. Historians reconstruct narratives by cross-referencing evidence, like letters or archaeological finds, to establish chronologies or motives. 

Unlike science, history cannot experiment; it relies on interpretive rigor and contextualization. Bias is a challenge, as historians’ perspectives may shape conclusions, but triangulating sources mitigates this. 

Each discipline’s methodology suits its aim: theology explores spiritual meaning, science uncovers natural laws, and history narrates human experience.

Why does the above matter for our conversation? It matters because theology often believes itself entitled to speak with confidence about history or science. 

This is evident in theological claims about events like Jesus’ resurrection. Theologians and Christians in general have no hesitation in claiming factual knowledge of an event they were not present at and which occurred two millennia ago. 

The New Testament, written decades after the fact, relies on oral traditions and secondary accounts. While these texts offer narratives, they lack verifiable, contemporaneous evidence. No physical artifacts or neutral third-party records confirm the resurrection’s mechanics—how or if it occurred. 

Historians can analyze texts like the Gospels, but these are theological works, not empirical logs. Cross-referencing with Roman or Jewish sources yields no direct corroboration, leaving the event’s details unprovable.

Yet, many theological traditions assert authoritative explanations, claiming divine insight or scriptural inerrancy. Such approaches almost always bypass and ignore historical methods. 

History’s details are elusive because we cannot directly observe the past. Unlike scientific experiments, which rely on repeatable observations, historical events are singular and irretrievable. This limitation, coupled with the fallibility of human memory, undermines our ability to prove specifics of past events with certainty.

Personal memory is notoriously unreliable, even over short periods. Studies show that within months, individuals misremember event details due to cognitive biases or external influences. Eyewitness accounts, often central to historical records, degrade rapidly, blending fact with interpretation. When extended to centuries, as with ancient events, these distortions amplify, rendering precise reconstructions impossible.

Theology’s claim of entitlement to certainty ignores memory’s flaws and the absence of observable data, risking overconfidence in unprovable claims.

By doing so, theology renders itself unable to engage in authentic dialogue with secular and academic interlocutors. Triumphalist theology is incapable of meaningful rapprochement. 

Theology must return to its proper methodology, humbly accept its limits, and focus on discussions of meaning and wisdom. Let us proceed and outline a methodological framework for a theology of meaning. 

Our purpose here is to outline a basic theological method and apply it to a few core theological claims, illustrating how we should engage in theological reasoning today.

I propose the following simple approach:

1. Seek to understand the theological claim, assertion, or narrative in its cultural and historical context.

2. Analyze the claim using contemporary forms of reasoning and in the light of common, everyday experience.

3. Remind ourselves that when it comes to historical claims and descriptions of events, we were not present. This means there is no authoritative way to determine whether an event occurred. We can only assess the likelihood of such happenings and wrestle with the meaning behind the narratives. 

4. Since the ancients were not trying to engage in science, history, or psychology, we must focus on discerning the meaning of their claims and assertions. This requires moving beyond the literal understanding of the claim. Note that such an approach doesn’t deny historical claims; it simply adopts an agnostic perspective. 

Following this method, theology is understood and rendered as a meaning-seeking endeavor.

Therefore, our theological goal is to grasp the existential meaning of any theological claim or assertion, bracketing out the historical, scientific, and metaphysical considerations, at least temporarily. 

Luke and Matthew’s Gospels assert that Jesus was conceived without a biological father, with Mary remaining a virgin, a claim later affirmed by Councils and theological writings.

Science and human experience confirm that parthenogenesis does not occur in humans, leaving us to consider interpretive options.

One possibility is to view the gospel writers and early thinkers as naive, primitive individuals believing in virgin births.

Alternatively, they might have known that virgins do not conceive, yet posited a miracle in Mary’s case.

A third approach reads these accounts as mythopoetic writings, employing symbolic language to convey deeper, nonbiological meaning, resonating with a theology of participation and meaning.

Determining the correct reading requires several considerations.

First, we cannot immediately discern the gospel writers’ true intentions, nor were we present to question Mary.

Second, given science’s evidence against virgin conception, the first two of the above options seem improbable.

Third, the Gospels’ sophisticated style—deliberate word choice, description, and claims—suggests intelligent authors, not uneducated simpletons retelling eyewitness accounts.

What if the theological claim of Mary’s virginity transcends concerns about her hymen or biological reproduction? Perhaps early Christians intended a subtler, contextual message.

Upon closer examination, the motif of a virgin birth was not novel to the gospel writers. Augustus was lauded with divine titles, such as “son of god,” “virgin-born”, and his deified adoptive father, Julius Caesar, enhanced his image as a divinely appointed ruler, legitimizing his authority through a cult of personality.

In contrast, the Gospels’ virgin birth narrative casts Jesus as the true “son of God,” rooted in divine, not earthly, power—born in a manger, not a palace.

The gospel’s claim challenged the imperial cult, asserting that actual authority lies in Jesus’ humility, not emperors or armies.

To ancient listeners, the assertion of a virgin birth was a statement implying honor and prestige; the shock lay in attributing it to Jesus, subverting imperial claims.

This metaphorical interpretation of the virgin birth and the symbolic details of Jesus’ nativity highlights several key themes: 

Subversion of Imperial Power: The virgin birth narrative subverts the Roman imperial ideology by presenting Jesus as the true "son of God," challenging the divine claims of the emperor.

Birth in Bethlehem: Bethlehem, a small, insignificant town, stands in stark contrast to the grandeur of Rome, the center of imperial power. Jesus' birth in this humble setting challenges the notion that power and authority are solely concentrated in the hands of the powerful and elite. It suggests that God's power is manifested in unexpected places and among the marginalized.

The Shepherds: The shepherds, considered low-status members of society, are the first to receive the news of Jesus' birth. This signifies that the Good News is not limited to the privileged or the powerful, but is accessible to all, regardless of social standing. It also shows who is prioritized in the Kingdom - the lowly. 

Flight to Egypt: The flight to Egypt, while a narrative of persecution, also echoes the story of Moses, who was saved from death as an infant and later led his people to freedom. This suggests that Jesus, like Moses, will liberate his people from oppression.

Emphasis on Humility: While Augustus embodied worldly power and domination, Jesus' birth in humble circumstances emphasizes the inverted values of the Kingdom of God.

Hope for the Oppressed: For those living under Roman oppression, the virgin birth narrative offered a message of hope and liberation, proclaiming that true power resides not in the hands of the oppressors but in God's hands, who identifies with the marginalized and oppressed.

By weaving together these symbolic elements, the nativity narratives offer a profound critique of Roman imperial ideology and present an alternative vision of power and authority, where the last shall be first, and the humble shall be exalted. 

This subversive message continues to challenge and inspire us today, reminding us that true power resides not in worldly domination but in the transformative power of love.

The exorcism of Legion recounted in Mark 5:1-20, Luke 8:26-39, and Matthew 8:28-34 is a narrative laden with symbolism that extends beyond the literal claims of expelling demons. 

Through this account, we can discern a powerful critique of Roman imperial power, a demonstration of Jesus' authority over evil, and a profound message of liberation and healing for those marginalized and oppressed.

Gerasenes/Gadarenes: The location of the exorcism, the region of the Gerasenes or Gadarenes, is significant. This area was largely Gentile, reflecting the encroachment of Roman culture and influence into Jewish territory. The presence of a demon-possessed man in this region symbolizes the oppressive and destructive nature of Roman imperial power.  

Legion: The name "Legion," which signifies a vast Roman military unit, directly links the demonic force oppressing the young man to the Roman army. This association implies that the demonic oppression experienced by the man is analogous to the oppression inflicted by the Roman Empire on the Jewish people and other subjugated populations.  

Pigs: The demons' request to enter the pigs and their subsequent drowning in the sea carry multiple layers of symbolism. Pigs were considered unclean animals in Jewish tradition, and their association with the demons further reinforces the notion of impurity and defilement connected to Roman influence. The drowning of the pigs can be interpreted as a symbolic overthrow of Roman power and a rejection of its values.  

Fear and Rejection: The Gerasenes' reaction to the exorcism, asking Jesus to leave their region, reveals their fear of his power and their complicity in the oppressive systems that benefit them. This highlights the challenge Jesus poses to those who benefit from the status quo, even if it means perpetuating injustice and oppression.  

The exorcism of Legion offers a nuanced commentary on the nature of power, authority, and the Kingdom of God. It challenges us to question the oppressive systems that perpetuate injustice and to embrace the values of compassion, healing, and liberation. 

The Gospel accounts of Jesus' trial before Pilate present a dramatic and pivotal scene, but historical and logistical questions arise regarding their accuracy. 

One significant challenge is eyewitness testimony.  The Gospels depict a relatively large crowd, but it's unclear who these individuals were. 

Roman trials, particularly those involving potential sedition, were typically not public spectacles. Access would likely have been restricted, and it's improbable that a large group of Jesus' followers would have been permitted to observe, even at a distance. 

While some supporters might have lingered at a distance, their ability to accurately recount the proceedings is doubtful. 

Additionally, the Gospels suggest that Roman soldiers were present, but their perspective would likely be limited, and their understanding of the nuances of Jewish accusations questionable.   

Another issue is the improbability of Pilate personally interviewing Jesus. Roman governors had numerous responsibilities and staff to assist them. It's unlikely that Pilate, preoccupied with matters of state and maintaining order in a volatile province, would have personally engaged with the case of a relatively obscure subversive religious figure. Lower-ranking officials typically handled such cases. 

The Gospels' portrayal of Pilate engaging in theological debates with Jesus seems particularly improbable. Furthermore, the image of Pilate as a reluctant judge, pressured by a hostile crowd, contradicts known historical accounts of his behavior. 

Pilate was not known for leniency towards Jewish dissidents, and the idea of his seeking widespread approval runs counter to his established character.   

While the trial before Pilate serves a crucial theological purpose in the Gospels, the discrepancies and improbabilities raise questions about its historical accuracy. 

The Gospel writers, decades after the event, wrote a spiritualized narrative to emphasize Jesus' innocence and portray his death as a sacrifice orchestrated by both Jewish authorities and Roman power. 

However, these embellishments do not necessarily negate the Gospels' core message. The focus on Jesus' suffering and unjust condemnation remains central to Christian convictions, regardless of the precise details of the trial.

Why was Jesus arrested? Why was he executed?

While the Gospels emphasize theological interpretations of these events, a more historically plausible scenario centers on Jesus' disruptive actions in the Temple. 

His overturning of tables and denunciation of the Temple practices would have been seen as a direct challenge to the religious authorities and a potential incitement to unrest, especially during the volatile Passover season. 

This act, rather than any purported claims to kingship, would have been sufficient grounds for his arrest by the Temple guards, who were responsible for maintaining order within the sacred precincts. 

The swiftness of his subsequent trial and execution suggests that the authorities viewed him as a threat to public order, requiring immediate and decisive action to prevent a larger disturbance.

The trial itself would have been brief, likely proceeding before lower-ranking Roman authorities. 

The charges brought against Jesus would have focused on his disruption of the Temple and the potential for it to incite a riot, rather than any claims to messianic status. 

Jesus was not executed because of the intricacies of Jewish religious disputes. He was likely executed for perceived sedition and disruption, someone deemed a threat to public order.

Additionally, crucifixion was a manner of execution used for subversives, rioters, and rebels. If Jesus had been arrested for theological claims, he would have never been crucified. 

The Gospels' account of a respectful burial arranged by Joseph of Arimathea is also highly improbable. 

Roman authorities typically denied burial to those executed for crimes against the state as a final act of humiliation and deterrence. The bodies were often left exposed to scavengers or disposed of in mass graves. This practice underscored Rome's power and served as a stark warning against challenging its authority. 

The idea of a prominent member of the Sanhedrin requesting and receiving the body of someone executed as a potential revolutionary strains credulity. 

It is far more likely that Jesus' body was disposed of unceremoniously, further emphasizing the brutal reality of Roman justice and the precariousness of his movement.

Christianity doesn’t end with Jesus’ death.

The resurrection accounts in the gospels differ in several details, though they all share the core message of Jesus' resurrection. 

One key difference lies in who discovers the empty tomb. In Mark's Gospel, Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome find the tomb empty, while Matthew adds "the other Mary" to the group. Luke's account mentions Joanna and other women along with Mary Magdalene and Mary, the mother of James. 

John's Gospel, however, focuses solely on Mary Magdalene as the first witness to the resurrection. These variations may reflect different traditions or sources used by the Gospel writers.   

Another point of divergence is the number and identity of the heavenly messengers at the tomb. Mark describes "a young man dressed in white," while Matthew mentions "an angel of the Lord." Luke's Gospel features two men in dazzling clothes, and John's account portrays two angels in white. 

The Gospel accounts also differ in the timing and location of Jesus' appearances after the resurrection. Matthew portrays Jesus meeting the women on their way back from the tomb, while John describes Mary Magdalene encountering Jesus in the garden near the tomb. Luke's Gospel recounts Jesus appearing to two disciples on the road to Emmaus and later to the eleven disciples in Jerusalem. 

The discrepancies in the number and descriptions of these figures could be due to different interpretations of the events or varying emphasis on specific details.  

Mark's initial versions of his Gospel, the earliest of the canonical Gospels, notably lack a detailed account of the resurrection itself. The narrative abruptly ends with the women fleeing the empty tomb in fear and silence, having been told by a young man in white that Jesus has been raised. 

This abrupt ending has sparked considerable scholarly debate. Some suggest the original ending was lost, while others argue that Mark intentionally concluded his Gospel this way, emphasizing the shock and awe of the resurrection event and leaving the reader to grapple with its implications. 

The absence of a resurrection appearance by Jesus in Mark underscores the mystery and transformative power of the event. It also highlights the women's subsequent commitment to spread the news, even though they were initially too afraid to do so.

The disparate details, as well as the timing of the Gospel accounts, indicate that they were unlikely to be based on eyewitness testimony.

Mark’s Gospel was written between 65 CE and 75 CE. Mark is therefore writing about an event that took place at least 30 years earlier. Most witnesses would have already died. Second-hand accounts are notoriously inaccurate. Yes, the accounts might be, in some manner, based on events retold. But the more realistic interpretation is that the accounts are theological statements rather than historical retellings.

While the Gospels narrate a physical resurrection, the biological impossibility of such an event necessitates exploring alternative interpretations of this phenomenon. Three-day-old dead bodies do not spontaneously return to life. 

Therefore, the resurrection narratives, taken literally, present an insurmountable challenge to historical and scientific understanding. 

However, this does not necessarily invalidate the significance of the claims of resurrection. Still, the stories may be intended to convey symbolic meanings beyond the literal event.

The resurrection may represent the triumph of love over despair, the enduring power of Jesus' teachings, or the birth of a new community centered on his message. Above all, the claims centered on the continuation of Jesus' influence and felt presence beyond his earthly life. 

This emphasis on the ongoing experience of Jesus also suggests that the resurrection stories may be rooted in the dreams and visions of his followers, which were common occurrences in the ancient world.

Moreover, the accounts suggest that the first communities continued to experience a sense of Jesus' presence in their gatherings and spiritual practices.

Above all, the Eucharist became a central locus for experiencing Jesus' presence. These ritualistic meals served as a tangible connection to Jesus, reinforcing his spiritual presence within the community.   

Perhaps the most compelling evidence of the continued experience of Jesus lies in the profound love and unity that characterized these groups.

The crucifixion of Jesus, from a Roman perspective, was a definitive victory. It was the empire's way of silencing a perceived threat, a public execution designed to deter dissent and reinforce Roman authority. 

However, the early Christian communities interpreted Jesus' death and subsequent resurrection in a radically different light. The resurrection became a powerful declaration that Rome had not, in fact, won. 

The claim of resurrection was a defiant assertion that the values Jesus embodied – love, compassion, forgiveness, and justice – could not be extinguished by imperial power.  

The resurrection claims, therefore, weren't primarily about Jesus physically returning to life. The narratives focus on surreal experiences and the struggle of his followers to recognize him in various circumstances. 

Much of the language of resurrection centered on the claim that God had raised Jesus from the dead. The claims certainly included a sense of tangible realities, but, perhaps more importantly, they implied divine vindication. 

To claim and participate in the resurrection was to say that Rome could kill us, but they could not ultimately win. To participate in the resurrection was to join the community that was his living body still present in the world. 

For the early Christians, the resurrection signified that the truth and beauty of Jesus' teachings transcended his physical death. It validated his life and ministry, confirming that his message resonated with a power that even death could not conquer.  

The resurrection was a mythic statement demonstrating that even in the face of seemingly insurmountable odds, goodness and love would ultimately prevail. 

It was a powerful affirmation that the values Jesus championed were not merely idealistic platitudes but rather fundamental principles that held true regardless of earthly circumstances.   

A theology of meaning, at its core, is epistemologically humble, allowing human knowledge and experience to inform its reasoning and understanding of the Christian message. 

It seeks to find evidence, whether historical, experiential, or philosophical, to support its claims, remaining open to the possibility that new information might challenge or refine its conclusions. Above all, it seeks to understand the meanings behind the claims beyond their literal details. 

In contrast, ideological theology begins with a predetermined set of beliefs and then seeks to impose that framework on reality. It filters evidence through the lens of its ideology, often dismissing or reinterpreting anything that contradicts its preconceived notions. 

While a theology of meaning seeks a dialogue between theology and reason, ideological theology operates from a position of certainty, prioritizing adherence to its doctrine over genuine engagement with the complexities of the world. One seeks understanding through inquiry; the other seeks confirmation through imposition.

In ideological theology, the focus on a literal interpretation of scripture and related Christian claims, often divorced from historical or contextual analysis, creates a rigid framework through which all information is filtered. 

This framework becomes the unchallengeable starting point, shaping not only theological understanding but also political and social views.

A theology of meaning offers an alternative to the corrosive and narrowing effects of ideological stances.

Some critics of a theology of meaning argue that its emphasis on evidence, reason, and existential concerns dilutes Christian doctrine, rendering it a less robust and ultimately unorthodox version of the tradition. 

They fear that by subjecting theological claims to scrutiny, a theology of meaning undermines the mystery and sacredness of Christian beliefs. 

However, this objection mischaracterizes the nature and intent of such a theology. A theology of meaning is not about skepticism or a rejection of core Christian tenets. 

Instead, it is deeply rooted in a commitment to realism, reason, and intellectual humility. It recognizes that theology and reason are not mutually exclusive but rather complementary paths to understanding truth. 

Far from watering down Christianity, a theology of meaning seeks to enrich and deepen our understanding of it. By asking "why" we believe what we believe and by examining the evidence that supports our claims, we can move beyond mere assent to a more profound and intellectually honest engagement with Christian doctrine. 

A theology of meaning is not about discarding tradition or embracing novelty; rather, it is about finding a balance between the two. Instead, it is about wrestling with the sense of those traditions, seeking to understand the "why" behind the "what" of Christian belief. It aims to clarify the meaning of Christian claims and assertions rather than simply accepting them at face value.