That Jesus should have been executed, either as an historical fact or as a mythological theory, is not remarkable; and even when considered in the light of his being one of the godhead, there is nothing new in the relation of his death. The idea of a dying god is very old. The grave of Zeus was shown at Crete, and the body of Dionyseus was buried at Delphi. Osiris and Buddha both died, and numerous deities were crucified. Krishna, the Indian god, suffered such execution, as did also the Mexican savior Quetzalcoatl. Representations of Krishna abound wherein he is depicted as nailed to a cross and having a round hole in his side. Prometheus was nailed by hands and feet to Mount Caucasus, with arms extended in the form of a cross.

So immeasurably voluminous have been the writings of the orthodox upon the trial, execution, and resurrection of Jesus that it seems advisable to consider these matters, from a rational point of view, upon the hypothesis that such a man really lived and suffered experiences similar to those narrated in the Gospels. With that premise the following views are offered:

The attitude of Jesus before Pilate shows him to have been a willing martyr, yea, desirous of martyrdom. In all probability his fanatical mind believed that when the supreme moment should come, when his execution should take place, and when his death seemed instantly imminent, some great natural phenomenon would occur to save him. He undoubtedly believed that he would not die, but that God would miraculously interpose to rescue him and that at that time he would not only be saved, but that the kingdom of heaven would be established under his control. That this was his belief seems to be shown by his cry of disappointment when he realized that nothing supernatural was to prevent his death. When that moment of realization came, his surprise was evident and, unlike many of his courageous followers who died in calmness and bravery, he cried aloud in mental and physical anguish, “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?” (Matt. xxvii, 46; Mark xv, 34.)

His indifferent bearing before Pilate showed this faith in his redemption, for when the Roman procurator courteously asked him if he were the king of the Jews, he replied ambiguously, as had always been his practice, “Thou sayest it” (Matt. xxvii, 11; Mark xv, 2; Luke xxiii, 3; John xviii, 37; Nicodemus iii, 10). But such ambiguity, which had served very well among the lower classes who had flocked to hear and question him, was of no avail before the matter-of-fact Roman, who, as an imperial officer, desired straightforward answers, and was little impressed by Jesus’ silence, except that he was rightfully astonished that when given the chance the prisoner should not have availed himself of it to explain his position. Therefore, seeing Jesus had no will to answer his questions except in an exasperating manner, after he had shown a willingness to save him, Pilate delivered Jesus over to the Jews according to the custom of the Romans in regard to the theological disputes of a subject people—but not until he had requested them to spare the preacher. Had Jesus given the Roman a frank explanation of his position as an itinerant preacher, Pilate would probably have saved him, but the chimerical idea of the interposition of God by a miracle, which would glorify him above all else that could occur, led Jesus to make a willing sacrifice of himself and throw away the opportunity offered him by Pilate.

There is nothing noble nor grand in this impudent conduct toward the Roman officer, but there is a good deal of justice and consideration in the conduct of Pilate. There is nothing noble in Jesus’ willingness to die nor in his courting death at this trial, for it was entirely unnecessary and was desired on his part only because he expected a miraculous salvation. According to his belief, he was to be the gainer, and he staked his life for a heavenly glory and lost, although he was probably keen enough to see that in any case his death would increase his fame, for the execution of a fanatic always lends a little glory to a cause, no matter how base, as witness the desire of anarchists for martyrdom and the attitude with which they view those who die for their horrible ideas.

The only question with the Roman was as to whether Jesus had proclaimed himself the king of the Jews, and as he declined to answer this question, Pilate could do nothing to save him. The blind hatred of orthodox Christianity toward Pilate is absurd. Aside from the argument above, there is another reason why his memory should be leniently treated. According to the Christian dogma, Jesus was the son of God, and it was only by his sacrifice, by his actual death, that he could save man. By dying he took the sins of mankind upon himself, and thus became the Savior. As the eternal Son, knowing all things, as a part of the godhead, he knew his death must occur—that was his mission on earth. Therefore, as instruments in the accomplishment of this grand plan, by which mankind was saved, and Jesus became the Savior, Caiaphas and Pontius Pilate should be regarded as divine agents worthy of glory and praise. Any other conclusion is entirely illogical. But then, who will look for logic in the dogmas of Christianity? When one makes a logical investigation of this faith, he abandons its unreasonable teachings, which cannot be accepted by a logical mind. The person who allows his reason to govern his belief cannot in any way accept the teachings of the absurd and ridiculous Christian cult.

While suffering his execution, Jesus, according to the Gospel writers, lost both his moral and physical courage, and cried aloud in agony, “Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani?” In view of this fact, it seems impossible for reasonable creatures to accept the Christian dogmas of the atonement and the trinity, for, if Jesus were one of the godhead and had left his heavenly abode to descend to earth for the especial purpose of saving mankind by shedding his blood for them, he must necessarily have been aware of what was in store for him and have known all the details attendant upon his execution.

Looking at this fable rationally, Jesus was inferior in courage to many of his followers. When we recall the innumerable martyrs who went to meet death with smiling lips, in perfect confidence, the wailing savior, with his doubting cry to God, presents anything but an impressive figure. Surely, to burn at the stake, to lie under the axe, to endure the awful tortures of the Inquisition, were fully as agonizing as a crucifixion; and yet men—and delicate women—who have never pretended to divinity, have borne these things silently.

To be sure, the whole story of the Christ is largely legendary and very uncertain, but, according to the gospels of Matthew and Mark, Jesus was weak in his convictions, afraid to die for his own teachings, and on the whole, his conduct at the supreme moment reminds one of the weak French peasants of revolutionary times rather than the brave nobility. His peasant blood rose to the surface and in his fear he cried, “Why hast thou forsaken me?” although but a few moments before he had assured one of the malefactors who suffered beside him that on this day he should be in paradise (Luke xxiii, 43).

Everything considered, it is not strange that the Jews would not accept Jesus as the awaited messiah who should free them from the yoke of Rome. They desired a strong and powerful leader, not a socialistic wandering teacher, and the prophecies promised a ruler surpassing the wisdom and power of the gorgeous Solomon. There is not one prophetic passage in the Old Testament that can properly be applied to Jesus, although many have been distorted for such purpose. The Jews looked upon him as an impostor and a revolutionist who not only pretended to be what he was not, but who disregarded their ancient laws and preached a doctrine contrary to that held by their rabbis.

It was not until long after his death that he was regarded as a prophet, and it was not until every proof of his very existence had vanished that divine honors were paid him. To the Jews he was a vagrant revolutionist worthy of death, and the Jews knew him personally; to a large majority of twentieth century Christians, he is a god, and they know absolutely nothing about him, save a collection of puerile myths which tax their credulity as children, but which as adults they accept.

However, regarding the execution of Jesus, there is always the legitimate doubt that it ever occurred. Aside from the fact that the usual mode of death for criminals was by hanging, there is much internal evidence in the gospels themselves which points to the conclusion that the whole story of the execution and resurrection is mythical and was composed from various Hebrew and pagan legends. The dying cry was copied verbatim from Psalms xxii, 1, wherein David “complaineth in great discouragement” over his diseased condition.