On June 23, 1863, in France, a book was published that would become the literary sensation of the century. Few could have foreseen the impact it would make. This was not a romance novel, thriller, or self-help guide; it was Vie de Jésus (The Life of Jesus) by Ernest Renan. In less than four months, over 60,000 copies were circulating—a record-breaking success in the press of that era. The book created an absolute sensation.
The final chapter opens with a striking declaration: “It will thus be understood how, by an exceptional destiny, pure Christianity still preserves, after eighteen centuries, the character of a universal and eternal religion. It is, in fact, because the religion of Jesus is in some respects the final religion.”[1] Renan’s argument in favour of Jesus seems unequivocal, with Christianity poised to prevail across the world. As a concluding statement, his final words in the book are remarkably reverent: “Jesus will not be surpassed. His worship will constantly renew its youth, the tale of his life will cause ceaseless tears, his sufferings will soften the best hearts; all the ages will proclaim that among the sons of men, there is none born who is greater than Jesus.”[2]
Renan’s writing about Jesus is nearly poetic, yet we should not be misled. He was writing in France, some seventy years after the French Revolution. Had his views aligned with the Catholic mainstream of his time, his book would likely not have become the sensation it did. Renan wrote as a historical critic. He questioned the divine inspiration of the Gospels and considered Jesus a genius, but a human genius. Though he sought to place Jesus “on the highest peak of human greatness,” he viewed Him as a legend—not in terms of His historical existence, but as a superhuman figure, quite unlike the way He is portrayed in the Gospels.
For Renan, the main issue lay with the eyewitnesses. In his view, they were too overwhelmed by the One they depicted to understand Him fully. Renan saw the Gospels as “full of errors and misconceptions.” Their depiction, he argued, was sublime but flawed: “On the whole, the character of Jesus, far from having been embellished by his biographers, has been lowered by them. These painted him as they understood him, and often in thinking to raise him, they have in reality lowered him.”[3]
Who was Ernest Renan and what did he believe?
Ernest Renan was a Breton, whose mother had hoped he would become a priest. A brilliant student with a romantic nature, he quickly caught the attention of his teachers. According to his biographer, Renan knew nearly the entire New Testament by heart.[4] Just as he was about to be ordained as a priest, he confessed the doubts he had developed after reading German theological and philosophical literature during his theological and professional training. Ironically, many of the authors who gradually eroded his Catholic faith were Protestants.
Living in an era when Enlightenment rationalism intersected with the theory of evolution, Renan embraced a synthesis of these ideas. He came to view the Bible as a human product, with no divine intervention. As a result, ideas about a divine Jesus were seen as later inventions or merely subjective human descriptions. Some have attempted to portray Renan as a Christian in terms of ideals and core principles—such as sacrifice and love[5]—but Renan’s beliefs leaned more toward sentimental nostalgia than the kind of faith described in the New Testament.
The loss of faith led him to view Jesus as less than the Christianity he once adhered to. For Renan, Jesus was “a peerless man,” “a superhuman being,” “man of surpassing greatness,” “a sublime person,” a “demigod,”[6] and little else. As Renan’s thinking became more sophisticated, he found it increasingly difficult to maintain the belief that Jesus was the Son of God in an ontological sense. He argued that even Jesus Himself did not consider Himself to be of divine nature. Consequently, the prophecies about Him were rejected, seen as biassed interpretations by the writers of the New Testament, while the miracles attributed to Jesus were dismissed as superstitious fantasies. This conclusion helps to explain Jesus’s statement: “I praise you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because you have hidden these things from the wise and learned, and revealed them to little children” (Matthew 11:25, NIV[7]). The point of this verse is not that God remains silent, but that He speaks in a way that becomes unintelligible to those who, by the standards of secular scholarship, position themselves within a closed system, leaving no room for revelation, miracle, or the divine.
The formation of faith
While higher education, science, and scholarship are compatible with faith, the reverse is also true, as seen in the case of Renan. Therefore, it is important to understand how faith is formed. Although the formation of faith has been studied in philosophy (epistemology) since ancient times, it is a relatively recent focus in the field of natural sciences. The beliefs we form arise from our interactions with the surrounding environment—events, information, emotions—and can be categorised into three types: (1) empirical (believing that…), (2) relational (believing someone), and (3) conceptual (believing in…). The first two do not rely on language or complex explanations but are grounded in experience and relationships with others. The third type, however, is based on a vision or a metanarrative (religious, political, etc.).[8] This form of belief is largely shaped by one’s worldview and life perspective.
Faith in the New Testament
In Matthew 21:32, we find an example of relational faith: “For John came to you to show you the way of righteousness, and you did not believe him, but the tax collectors and the prostitutes did. And even after you saw this, you did not repent and believe him.” It is ironic that people of questionable morality find it easier to believe the prophet, while religious authorities remain trapped in their prejudices. Some of those who witnessed Jesus’s miracles developed an empirical faith, but not a conceptual one. In the case of Lazarus’s resurrection, “many of the Jews who had come to visit Mary, and had seen what Jesus did, believed in him. But some of them went to the Pharisees and told them what Jesus had done” (John 11:45-46). The second group did not doubt what they had seen. They too witnessed the miracle, but instead of believing in Jesus as the Messiah—thus developing an attachment to Him as the Saviour—they chose to report Him to the Pharisees. Their preconceived vision of what the messianic Saviour should look like prevented them from joining the movement that followed Jesus.
Among those who witness a miracle, it is clearly preferable to belong to the group that believes in Jesus—not just in the fact that He performed a miracle or another. However, the New Testament goes beyond this. There is a level of faith that does not depend on seeing with one’s own eyes. When Thomas, often called “Doubting Thomas,” refuses to believe that Jesus has risen, despite being told by about fifteen witnesses who claimed to have seen Him, he is finally given the chance to encounter Jesus in person. His response is one of total faith.
Jesus’s reply is significant: “Because you have seen me, you have believed; blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed” (John 20:29). Thomas sees Jesus and believes He has risen, but Jesus points out that those who believe without seeing are blessed. This is not blind faith, but rather one that is open to an honest account from eyewitnesses. In the definition given in Hebrews 11:1, “faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance [Greek: elegchos, meaning ‘conviction’] about what we do not see.” The faith of post-apostolic Christianity operates on this principle. As Peter wrote to the second generation: “Though you have not seen him, you love him; and even though you do not see him now, you believe in him and are filled with an inexpressible and glorious joy, for you are receiving the end result of your faith, the salvation of your souls” (1 Peter 1:8-9). They believed in Jesus based on the testimony of those who had known Him.
When an official from the Roman imperial court came to Jesus, asking Him to heal his son, Jesus responded with words that seemed, at first, out of place: “‘Unless you people see signs and wonders,’ Jesus told him, ‘you will never believe’” (John 4:48). But Jesus knew exactly what He was saying. It seems that the royal official’s faith was superficial, determined to either accept or reject Christ based on whether or not He performed a miracle.[9] Nevertheless, he couldn’t risk his son’s life, so he turned to Jesus, the only hope in that situation.
Conclusions
The battle for Jesus is, first and foremost, a personal one. Yet, the long history of this conflict shows that the entire world has been, and will be, involved in this debate sooner or later. Alarmed by the ever-growing popularity of Christianity, Julia, wife of the Roman emperor Septimius Severus (reigning from 193 to 211 AD), commissioned Philostratus, a Greek philosopher with a Pythagorean background, to write a treatise on Apollonius of Tyana (4–96 AD), a philosopher known for his miracles. The portrayal of Apollonius mirrors what we know about Jesus—miraculous signs surrounding his birth, miracles (including a resurrection), itinerant preaching, conflict with the authorities, a death sentence (that was not carried out), survival of death, and an ascension to heaven. Apollonius is depicted as a theios aner, or “divine man.” Philostratus’ purpose was to revitalise paganism, implying that what we know about Jesus is not unique.
However, not only does ancient literature from around 300 BC to 150 AD contain no mention of miracle workers,[10] but the traditions about Apollonius are late and contradictory. Even so, by the fourth century, comparisons between Apollonius and Jesus were already being used to diminish the latter.[11] Voltaire and other Deists of his time revived this false comparison, which is still used today by Bart Ehrman, a professor of New Testament studies at the University of North Carolina, in his lectures. I can only quote Jesus when He prophesies that in the final days of earth’s history, “false messiahs and false prophets will appear and perform great signs and wonders to deceive, if possible, even the elect” (Matthew 24:24). I don’t think anyone should think of antichrists only as personal competitors. The true Jesus can be emulated by many types of “alternative Jesuses.”
In educated circles, doubt may seem fashionable. Embracing doubt often gives the illusion of freedom, a sense of reaching a higher level—almost a gnostic feeling. However, a correct understanding of Jesus does not come from one’s own abilities or knowledge, but from God’s revelation. When the peasant and fisherman Peter recognises Jesus as the Son of God, Jesus responds: “Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah, for this was not revealed to you by flesh and blood, but by my Father in heaven” (Matthew 16:17).
Laurenţiu Florentin Moţ invites the reader to consider the assertions of Ernest Renan, who might have become an excellent servant of the altar had he not delved so deeply into theology. This is a brief study on the illusion of uncertainty and the nature of true faith.