Regarding the resurrection, it is interesting to note that, whereas most crucified men lived a number of hours and even a day in this torture, the wounds in the hands not being mortal and the position only affecting the circulation, causing death by exhaustion or starvation, Jesus lived only three hours. Therefore, it may have been that he was not actually dead, but merely in a state of coma, or perhaps a cataleptic condition. The custom he had of using his subjective mind in telepathic cures, as told in the gospels, seems to point to this conclusion, that, being strongly subjective, his condition here was cataleptic. Many cases are known of men having been restored after crucifixion, and, as the embalming given Jesus in the Jewish custom consisted in nothing more than a wrapping in a shroud with myrrh and aloes, there is nothing to oppose this hypothesis. After resting for a while in the tomb, he may have revived and gone out and been seen by others, after which he wandered away again to die in solitude from exhaustion and lack of food.

It is more probable, however, that this legend was copied from those of other religious heroes, who likewise rose from the dead, as there seems to be much variance between the different versions of the visit of Mary Magdalene to the sepulchre and her meeting with Christ. Matthew says (xxviii, 1) that Mary Magdalene and the other Mary visited the sepulchre (3), where they saw a male angel descend from heaven during an earthquake and roll back the stone from the door and sit upon it (7). And he told them to “go quickly, and tell his disciples” that he had risen, which they did. But as they were going (9) “Jesus met them ... and they came ... and worshiped him.” Mark tells a similar story with some variations as to the angel, but he relates that Jesus appeared first to Mary Magdalene “early the first day of the week” (xvi, 9), and not on her visit with Mary, the mother of James, and Salome at the tomb. According to Luke, the women went to the tomb, where they were informed by (xxiv, 4) “two men in shining garments” that Jesus had risen, and they left and told the apostles. No mention is made here of the encounter of Mary Magdalene. John, however, gives a more elaborate version. He narrates (xx) that Mary, going early and alone to the tomb, which she found entirely empty, ran and informed Peter, who verified her story and departed. After she was left alone she looked into the sepulchre again, where she beheld two angels, and on turning away saw Jesus standing by her.

Setting aside the idea of a mythical plagiarism in these tales, and also the cataleptic theory already mentioned, and considering them from yet another point of view, we can still find a rational explanation. The meeting of Jesus with Mary may have been the hallucination of a hysterical woman. According to Mark xvi, 9, and Luke viii, 2, Jesus had cast seven devils out of her, which is surely sufficient proof that she was of neurotic temperament and had been subject to delusions and hysteria. Undoubtedly after the shock of witnessing the crucifixion and death of her master, for three gospels agree in stating that she was present (Matt. xxvii, 56; Mark xv, 40; John xix, 25), this fond woman’s mind, which seemed more normal in his presence, again gave way and she returned to her hysterical condition. On visiting the tomb, she found it empty because “his disciples came by night and stole him away,” that they might declare he had risen from the dead, “as is commonly reported among the Jews until this day” (Matt. xxviii, 11–15). As she was leaving, she heard his voice (a common delusion of hysterical subjects) and saw his form (another hallucination), but when she went to touch him, she could not do so. The relation has all the marks of simple neurosis, and yet many modern Christians base their whole faith upon the words of Paul in 1 Corinthians xv, 14, “If Christ be not risen, then is our preaching vain, and your faith is also vain.”

As noted in various parts of this work, unless Christians believe in the possibility of miracles, the power of a personal devil, and the physical resurrection of the body, there is no foundation for their faith, and it is a mockery.

Not satisfied with having executed their god according to the most approved methods of antiquity, Christians felt the necessity of the presence of some remarkable natural phenomena at the time of his death, for among all ancient peoples it was customary to attribute some remarkable natural convulsions to the death of a great man. When Prometheus was crucified on Mount Caucasus “the earth quaked, thunder roared, lightning flashed, wild winds rent the air and boisterous billows rose.” On the death of Romulus, there was “darkness over the face of the earth for six hours,” and when Quetzalcoatl died the sun became black! Even in historical times, we find narrations of similar phenomena accompanying the deaths of royalty; and we read in many authenticated histories of the frightful thunderstorms that were coincident with the deaths of Isabella of Castile, Charles the Fifth, Napoleon the Great, and Oliver Cromwell.

Therefore, it is not surprising to find mention of such occurrences at the time of the execution of the Christian god, although we are not prepared for such astonishing and unprecedented phenomena as related by the ever exaggerating author of the “Gospel according to St. Matthew,” who states very seriously that “the vail of the temple was rent in twain from top to bottom; and the earth did quake, and the rocks rent; and the graves were opened; and many bodies of the saints which slept arose, and came out of the graves after his resurrection, and went into the holy city, and appeared unto many.”

But the execution, while it completes the mortal life of the incarnate Christian deity, by no means finishes the legend. Like the gods of antiquity, the Christ must also descend into hell and perform wonders similar to those of the ancient heroes. All the saviors of mankind had done so—Zoroaster, the Persian; Osiris, the Egyptian; Baldur, the Scandinavian; Quetzalcoatl, the Mexican; and Krishna, the Hindu; while Ishtar voluntarily descended into the Assyrian inferno.

Having descended into hell, resurrection was necessary, for it was unreasonable that the savior of mankind, the son of the supreme god, should remain perpetually in the place of punishment; and, as his life on earth was over, he could no longer abide there, and so the only plausible sequence was an ascension to heaven. Krishna, the crucified Hindu savior, rose from the dead and ascended bodily into the celestial regions, as did Rama, another avatar of Vishnu. Buddha also ascended bodily into heaven when his mission on earth was fulfilled, and marks on the rocks of a high mountain are shown as the last impressions of his footsteps on earth. Zoroaster and Æsculapius also had similar experiences, as did Elijah and Adonis. Osiris rose from the dead and bore the title of “The Resurrected One,” his ascension being celebrated in Egypt at the vernal equinox, as is the Christ’s and as was Adonis’. Other saviors who rose from the dead were Dionysius, Herakles, Memnon, Baldur and Quetzalcoatl.

Modern Catholics are still taught the fables of the bodily ascension of Jesus, Mary the Virgin, and Mary the Magdalene and many other holy persons, as actual miraculous truths, not to be questioned nor denied.

Very good, but how can educated Catholics of today reconcile such truths with their actual scientific knowledge? They know that the earth is spherical, that the stars and planets are members of solar systems, that outside the terrestrial atmosphere is nothing but vast space. There is no such place as a heaven anywhere in these celestial regions, and the zenith of any geographical situation changes every moment. Clouds are mere masses of vapor, not furniture for the repose of the glorified dead. Then whither did these adored beings ascend? Certainly, God in his love for them never flung them far into space to whirl about for eternity.

These Catholics also know the law of gravitation, which would not allow of such a method of transportation. But why ask these questions? No religious person is capable of thinking sensibly on the teachings of his faith, no matter how ridiculous. He accepts, as an adult, what he questions as a child.

While the idea of bodily ascension of the Christ was probably copied into his biography from that of Enoch (Gen. v, 24) and Elijah (2 Kings ii, 11), such stories form a large part of the annals of classical mythology, almost every hero of antiquity having been translated to the heavens when his earthly life was spent. The custom of converting the tombs of prominent Christians into shrines likewise aided this belief, as, it being impossible to discover the burial places of the most conspicuous, the idea arose that they had been physically removed to heaven.

The principal weakness of all the great theological systems now in practice is that they are terrestrial in their conception of God and man. Their foundations were laid at a period when mankind knew little, and cared less, about the planets; at a period when it was presumed that the sun, moon, and stars were either beneficent deities or natural objects placed in the firmament to light the world and please the eye of man by their beauty. Therefore God, as recognized in these systems, takes heed of naught else than this particular world. He totally ignores the other innumerable spheres of matter floating in space, many of which may support life. All his interests center on this infinitesimal portion of his creation. It is with the doings of the inhabitants of this planet that he is engaged. For this earth alone he creates man, animals and vegetables; to this alone, he sends his only son, or Savior; and it is here, in the purified state, that the souls of men shall eternally dwell after the great judgment.

Since science has proved that our solar system is but one of the many, and that in this system the earth is not the largest nor most important body, should not such absurd theological ideas be abandoned and a grander and vaster conception of the Deity be inaugurated? Should not organized theology turn to nobler thoughts and say with Paul, “When I was a child ... I thought as a child; but when I became a man, I put away childish things” (1 Cor. xiii, 11)?

All such doctrines as predestination, which are based upon the sin of Adam, are now anachronistic. The acceptance of the theory of evolution, which entirely destroys the reality of the mythical Adam, sweeps away his biography and leaves no foundation for such dogmas. If the Christian church desires to remain, she must cast aside these worthless doctrines, founded upon false hypotheses, when the minds of men were in darkness regarding the origin of species, and when they saw in these the only solution of their problem.

Having accomplished his ascension and entered on his eternal kingdom, one of the Christ’s attributes is that of judging the dead. This idea undoubtedly came from the Alexandrian school of theology, where so many of the Christian theories were promulgated, for one of the best-known attributes of Osiris was that of the judge, and he was generally represented as seated on his throne of judgment, bearing a staff (the crozier of the modern bishop) and holding the crux ansata. Buddha is also supposed to be the judge of the dead.

In connection with the idea of the Christ as the divine judge of men, certain sects of Christians have advocated that of his return to earth at some future period, which will terminate all terrestrial life as it is known to-day, basing this belief upon Jesus’ own proclamation of his second advent, although in his prophecy he declared the coming of the kingdom of heaven to be soon after his death. He even told his disciples that they could not visit all the cities of Israel before he should come again (Matt. x, 23); that their own generation should see these things (Matt. xxiv, 34; Mark xiii, 30); that some of those then listening to him should live to see his kingdom (Matt. xvi, 28; xxiii, 36; xxiv, 34; Mark viii, 38; Luke ix, 1–27; xxi, 32). Such were his words, and it seems strange that people, believing these words, can still regard him as a very part of God. Such improbabilities did Jesus gradually grow to preach, and so wild did he become in his exhortations that even his disciples at times appear to have believed him mad (Mark iii, 21), an opinion in which his enemies agreed (Mark iii, 22; John vii, 5–20; viii, 48–52; x, 20). They certainly had good cause for their suspicion. Was not his conduct in cursing the fig tree for not bearing fruit out of season an act of lunacy (Matt. xxi, 19–20; Mark xi, 13–14), and likewise his arrogant assertion of the power of faith (Matt. xvii, 20; xxi, 21; Mark xi, 23; Luke xvii, 6)? It is, however, quite probable that this idea of a second advent was copied from the Persian theology, it being one of the tenets of the Zoroastrian religion that in the end Ormuzd, God of Light, should conquer Ahriman, God of Darkness, and that he should then summon the good from their graves, remove all evil from the face of nature, and permanently establish the kingdom of righteousness and virtue upon the earth.

But such ideas are not unique to Christians and Persians. The Hindus believe that Vishnu will have another avatar; the Siamese live in constant expectation of the second coming of Codom; the Buddhists are looking forward to the return of Buddha; the Jews are awaiting the messiah; and the disciples of Quetzalcoatl expected that deity’s second advent—and most unfortunately thought their dream realized on the arrival of the Spaniards, who took advantage of their consequent submissiveness to exterminate them.