“For a long time I supposed that somewhere in the university there were really clever people whom I had not yet met, and whom I should at once recognise as my intellectual superiors, but during my second year, I discovered that I already knew all the cleverest people in the university. This was a disappointment to me, but at the same time gave me increased self-confidence.”[1]
These are the words of Bertrand Russell, a man who searched for genius around him only to discover, with a mix of surprise and satisfaction, that he was staring back at himself in the mirror. In his third year at Cambridge, he met G.E. Moore, whom he considered an ideal of genius, though the story doesn’t end there. Russell fondly recalls how he once tricked Moore into telling a lie, thus turning genius into a personal experiment. This was the mind that would go on to critique Jesus Himself.[2]
After his studies, Russell quickly became a towering figure in formal logic and philosophy, yet his influence extended well beyond these fields. His book Marriage and Morals, which Russell claimed[3] earned him the 1950 Nobel Prize in Literature (though the Nobel Committee mentioned two different reasons for the honour in its official statement), sparked widespread debate. In this work, Russell advocated for a liberal sexual ethic, one he himself practised, scandalising those who believed Christian morality should have the final say in matters of family and sexual life. The Nobel Committee’s decision to award the 1950 prize to the author of such a work remains an irony savoured by Russell’s supporters.[4]
On this subject, as well as on religion—which he critiqued from every conceivable angle—Russell did not merely ignite controversy with a missionary-like conviction; he stood watch over it, ever ready to fan the flames with new fuel. In this regard, Bertrand Russell can, in hindsight, be seen as an apostle of atheism—an untiring advocate of secular evangelism and a preacher of scepticism.[5]
“Why I am not a Christian”: the indictment against faith
The lecture delivered on March 6, 1927, at Battersea Town Hall in London, titled “Why I am not a Christian,” remains one of Bertrand Russell’s most famous and widely circulated critiques of Christianity. Here, I’ll follow sections of the speech where he examines Christ directly. Russell makes it clear he is not addressing the question of Jesus’s historical existence, which he views as uncertain. Instead, his goal was to demonstrate that Jesus, as depicted in the Gospels, was not nearly as wise as many believe.[6] His critique is methodical, at times ironic, targeting both the teachings and character of Jesus. Although Russell acknowledges some desirable maxims—such as “resist not evil” and “judge not”[7]—he points out that even Jesus’s followers fail to uphold these principles.[8]
Russell’s critique then focuses on Jesus’s prophecy about the eschaton, or “the end,” and His promised return, which Russell considers mistaken. In his view, this error diminishes the real-world relevance of Christ’s teachings: “In that respect clearly He was not so wise as some other people have been, and he was certainly not superlatively wise.”[9]
His harshest accusation relates to the doctrine of eternal hell, which Russell considers both cruel and responsible for significant psychological suffering throughout history. In his view, Jesus not only endorses this doctrine but also bears some responsibility for the cruelty it has engendered.[10] Thus, Russell finds a comparison between Jesus and Socrates to favour the latter, whom he regards as gentler and wiser.[11]
Russell also examines several biblical episodes, such as Jesus’s dialogue with the Pharisees, whom He calls a “generation of vipers,” the cursing of the fig tree, and the casting of demons into a herd of pigs—incidents he finds both bizarre and morally troubling. He emphasises that Jesus’s harsh language and threats, like “wailing and gnashing of teeth,” recur throughout the Gospels and seem to reflect a certain satisfaction in depicting suffering. In Russell’s estimation, Jesus does not measure up in wisdom or virtue to other historical figures, such as Buddha or Socrates.[12]
The evidence: more than sufficient
I’ll address each of these accusations in turn, starting with the supposed error of Jesus.
Did Jesus err regarding His return? To approach this initial charge concerning an alleged eschatological mistake (from verses like Matthew 10:23, 16:28, 24:34; Mark 9:1; Luke 9:27), it’s essential to avoid a simplistic reading of the biblical text. Christopher M. Hays and colleagues, in When the Son of Man Didn’t Come, offer an explanation for the delay of the Parousia that counters Russell’s claims about Jesus’s lack of wisdom. Biblical prophecies are not bound to human linear time; rather, they reflect a divine conception of time, which includes adjustments to the divine plan based on humanity’s responses.[13]
Russell interprets Jesus’s prophecies in a binary way—either true or false. Yet, this approach reveals a fundamental assumption underlying the critique of the delayed Parousia: that Jesus’s primary aim was to predict future events about His return with precise accuracy.[14] However, many biblical prophecies are conditional, depending on humanity’s response to the divine message. Similar to the account in the book of Jeremiah (18:1-11), where God reserves the right to alter the future based on human actions, Jesus’s prophecies concerning His return can also be understood within this conditional framework.[15] In other words, the delay in the Parousia is not an error by Jesus but rather a reflection of the consequences of human choices.
Therefore, Jesus’s prophecies are not rigid or predetermined but are influenced by human responses, prayer, and changing circumstances, reflecting a broader Jewish tradition of prophetic flexibility. Jesus spoke of an imminent return, contingent on the response of His listeners. Had that generation responded appropriately, His return could have occurred then. The fact that this did not happen does not mean the prophecy was false; rather, it was dependent on a dynamic moral and spiritual reality. Apparent tensions in biblical prophecies should not be viewed as errors but as reflections of a deeper reality. The delay of the Parousia, or second coming, and the apparent contradiction between an anticipated return and its postponement is explained in the New Testament as an inherent tension within God’s plan, which combines both justice and mercy.[16] In this context, the delay becomes an opportunity for patience and spiritual readiness, rather than a failure of prophecy (2 Peter 3:8-9; Matthew 24:42-44; 25:5-13; Romans 2:4; Hebrews 10:36-37).
Did Jesus offend His listeners out of personal frustration? To address this, we must consider what we know about prophetic language and its purpose.
Jesus did not speak in a theological or cultural vacuum. He used strong language to highlight the sins and hypocrisy of the religious leaders, much like the prophets of the Old Testament did (cf. Isaiah 5:20-23; 1:23; Jeremiah 25:30-31; Hosea 13:7-8). Jesus stands within this same prophetic tradition. The Pharisees and scribes bore the responsibility of guiding the people spiritually, but rather than leading by example, they misled through hypocrisy (cf. Matthew 6:2-6,16-18) and legalism (Matthew 23). Although He pronounced “woes” against the Pharisees, it’s crucial to note that His rebuke was not absolute rejection (as in Matthew 23:37: “Jerusalem, Jerusalem, you who kill the prophets and stone those sent to you, how often I have longed to gather your children together, as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, and you were not willing.”)
From a contemporary ethical perspective, such language might seem problematic. However, to understand its true significance, we need to interpret it within its cultural and historical context rather than through today’s sensitivities. Relevant biblical examples include Elijah’s sarcastic rebuke of Baal’s priests in 1 Kings 18:27, Amos’ admonishment of Israel in Amos 4:1-2, Paul’s reproach of the Galatians in Galatians 3:1, and the critique of the church at Laodicea in Revelation 3:14-22.
It’s also essential to recognise another crucial aspect. Jesus’s stern words were part of an internal critique within the Jewish tradition, not an expression of rejection of Jews as a people or a faith. His criticisms targeted the failings of certain religious leaders, not their ethnicity or religion. It’s important to distinguish between the text’s original intent and the ways it has been misinterpreted or manipulated throughout history. Christian antisemitism finds no basis in the teachings of Jesus but rather in later theological distortions and political manipulations.
Did Jesus believe in and preach about eternal hell? In her book, The Difficult Words of Jesus, New Testament professor Amy-Jill Levine, who is of Jewish descent and practises Judaism, highlights a significant distinction between the Old Testament Jewish concept of Sheol and later Christian views of hell, which were influenced by extrabiblical sources. Levine notes that Sheol in the Old Testament was seen as a shadowy place, a postmortem location shared by both the righteous and the unrighteous, devoid of eternal suffering. The Old Testament offers no concept of hell as eternal punishment for the wicked.[17]
As for the concept of “hell” in the Gospels, Levine argues that it suggests total annihilation rather than eternal torment. In Matthew 10:28, Jesus warns His disciples not to fear those who can kill the body but cannot kill the soul; instead, they should fear the One who can destroy both soul and body in “hell” (Gehenna). Levine emphasises that in this context, destruction signifies complete annihilation—nothing remains, neither body nor pain nor joy. For the Pharisees, who believed in the resurrection of the dead, the threat of total annihilation would have been particularly severe, as it contradicted their hope for continued existence beyond death.[18] In this context, “outside, into the darkness” where there is “weeping and gnashing of teeth” is not hell itself but a warning from Jesus: some who see themselves as insiders will find themselves outside, gnashing their teeth, while those previously considered outsiders will join the heavenly banquet.[19]
Levine also addresses passages in Revelation 14, which describe the fate of those who worship the “beast” and accept its mark, thus aligning themselves with it. These individuals are said to be tormented with fire and sulphur “in the presence of the Lamb,” or Jesus, and the smoke of their torment is described as rising “forever and ever.” However, the full picture unfolds in Revelation’s final chapters, where the righteous are depicted as living in the New Jerusalem with God and the Lamb, beholding God’s face, while the wicked meet their end in the “lake of fire,” also called the “second death.” Levine concludes that the “second death” represents complete annihilation; those condemned do not suffer eternally but are simply erased. “Death” here is absolute, without an endless continuation.[20]
Many people may shape their view of hell and of God based on their personal desires for justice or retribution, Levine concludes.[21] Yet, the testimony of both the Old and New Testaments does not support the idea that Jesus originated the concept of eternal hell, nor that He believed in it. This notion exists because we, in our flawed interpretations, have constructed it. The issue, then, lies with us. As Levine aptly observes, “If it is the case that we construct God in our own image, a look in the mirror may be helpful.”[22]
Conclusion
Jesus continues to withstand criticism effectively, as an informed interpretation of Scripture, within its historical context, will always support His teachings. However, beyond simply defending Jesus against the critiques of a well-known sceptic, there are three lessons we gain from revisiting His message. First, Jesus’s prophetic promises were not failures but part of a divine plan that considers our response and balances mercy with justice. Second, love does not exclude firmness against sin, while divine justice is not vindictive but seeks to bring everyone back to truth. Third, when faced with our own doubts or questions from sceptics, we need not seek definitive answers solely in reason or doctrine. Trust in God and His Self-revelation is itself a hermeneutic key, guiding us to approach Scripture with patience and honest inquiry, until its coherence becomes clear to both mind and heart.
Norel Iacob analyses three of the most important criticisms made by Bertrand Russell against Jesus, offering a response that revalues the complexity of biblical teachings and their wisdom.
