What sort of thing are the narratives of the life of Jesus, literarily speaking? (History? Biography? Fiction? Myth?) And what bearing does their genre have on the manner of interpretation proper to them? This chapter attends to Origen’s account of the Gospels’ genre, literary precedents, and relationship to other forms of ancient literature in order to establish why he believes the Gospels cannot be read as transparently historical narratives. Here, I propose that the kind of narratives Origen believes the Evangelists compose is directly comparable to the stories one finds throughout the scriptures of Israel. Furthermore, Origen also relates the Gospels’ literary similarity to Jewish biblical narrative to the way they both share a similarly complex relationship to facticity. The Gospels, in sum, all narrate the deeds, sufferings, and words of Jesus “under the form of history”; these historical narratives are of a mixed character, interweaving things that happened with things that didn’t and even couldn’t, with an eye toward presenting the events recorded to have happened to Jesus figuratively.

Cyril of Alexandria was a central figure in many of the theological developments and religious conflicts that challenged the stability of the fifth-century eastern Roman Empire. Crucial moments during his episcopacy (412–44) marking wider and more complex developments may be seen with sharp clarity in the outbreaks of overt violence between Christians and Jews and between Christians and “pagans” in the metropolis of Alexandria during the first years of his episcopal career. Moreover, roughly halfway through his tenure as bishop, he would involve himself in a doctrinal dispute underway in the eastern capital of Constantinople, opposing its bishop Nestorius because he believed the truth of the gospel was dangerously undermined by what he took to be Nestorius’ errant Christology. Through the savvy manipulation of ecclesiastical and imperial politics, Cyril succeeded in having Nestorius deposed by the Council of Ephesus in 431, though it took eighteenth months of negotiations to restore communion between the warring factions.

Origen’s examination of Jesus’s baptism in Against Celsus offers readers a particularly secure first footing for apprehending his sense of the Gospel narratives’ “mixed” character. That Jesus was baptized by John is hardly problematic, historically speaking. But the events narrated to have taken place directly after the baptism presented no less difficulty for readers in antiquity than they do for readers today. Origen preserves Celsus’s dismissal of the descent of the dove and voice from heaven as an obvious fiction. Origen, however, resists the judgment. Why? His reply to Celsus puts the whole complex of first principles detailed in Part I to work. According to Origen’s view, one can receive the narrative to be “true” inasmuch as it depicts, in figurative language drawn from prophetic literary tropes, Jesus’s own interior inspiration at the commencement of his public ministry. In short, the story narrates something real, something “historical” even, precisely insofar as it is entirely spiritual. The Evangelists then came to share in the same kind of vision Jesus is said to have had at his baptism and narrated “in figures” what they, too, had “perceived in their own understanding.”

10.1 [675] We have, I believe, given an account of the shadow in the law that is precise, since the enemy of the truth attempted – I do not know how – to persecute us and bizarrely brings the indictment of lawlessness against people who, more than anyone else, have made a firm determination to fulfill those divine laws in a more rational and precise manner than those who are conversant with the bare types alone. But since he takes us to task for absolutely everything we say and do, observe how he plunges us, so to speak, into yet more accusations, and says we stand in opposition even to the holy mystagogues themselves and have given no regard to the apostolic tradition, but instead have turned wherever our whim might carry us – and what’s more, without being taken to task for it! For he again writes as follows:1 [676]

Chapter 5 explores a wide range of passages where the Sectarians identify themselves as the present-time victims or potential victims of violence perpetrated by empowered others: Rome and the local Jewish priestly and political authorities. The imagery of the powerful priests in Jerusalem and their leader the Wicked Priest waging a campaign of violence and intimidation against the Sectarians is part of a broader attempt by the disempowered and disenfranchised Sectarians to craft a narrative of victimhood.

In his memoir Childhood Days, the filmmaker Satyajit Ray remembers growing up amidst the austerity of the Brāhmo Samaj in early twentieth-century Calcutta. He presents the lack of any fun and festivity as a counter to what children normally would enjoy. The Brāhmo Samaj, significant for Ray's life given his family's membership in the group, as well as a large swath of prominent intellectuals, writers, and artists in twentieth-century India, is sometimes seen as the origin point for modern Indian religion, based on its broad and all-encompassing engagement with a variety of textual sources regarding religion and philosophy. How did a broad appreciation of different texts and comparative understandings of religion and philosophy transform into an organization with specific rituals, scriptural references, and the trappings of a new religion? Ray mentions how Brāhmo ācāryas (ministers) would enunciate Sanskrit prayers and hymns in an elongated, monotonous way. As he notes, they would say “asato ma sadgamaya” in English, using elongated enunciation familiar to anyone who has attended a Brāhmo service: “Le-e-ad us from/Untr-u-uth into Tru-u-th/Le-e-ad us from Da-a-arkness into Li-i-ght/Le-e-ad us from D-e-ath into E-e-ternal Li-f-fe!” This mantra is often included in published editions of the Bṙhadāraṇyaka Upaniṣad, as the Pavamana Mantra. How did mantras like this become associated with Brāhmo Samaj members and austere religious rituals? From the late 1830s after the death of Rammohan Roy, the Brāhmo Samaj continued to deepen its emphasis on Upaniṣads like the Bṙhadāraṇyaka, buil

Chapter 6 examines the Sectarians’ portrait of the end-time destruction of its enemies. The depictions of eschatological violence offer insights into how the Sectarians responded to their present overmatched position while simultaneously affirming their special status. Sectarian texts imagine an imminent end of days that would usher in a period in which all of its enemies – both foreigners and other Jews – would be vanquished in the end-time battle.