This material inadequacy is what makes us uncomfortable in our higher thoughts on Christianity.

Christianity is sparse, truly a desert religion, even among the others from the Middle East.  Our great Western Tradition has great thirst for the details, the facts, the characters and the nouns.  The Resurrection of the Jedi, now coming to a theater near you, involves the dense interweaving of a somewhat disconnected set of thoughts and assertions about planets and cultures and such – but facts we must have, or in fiction it is called pretenses.  In psychiatry it is called delusions.

Christianity has a sparse original literature.  Half of what we call the New Testament involves letters and correspondence and small epistles produced after the death of its founder.  Paul, in fact, wrote a significant portion of the dogma without ever having met, in a corporeal sense, Jesus Christ.  Whether he should be handled as the Last Chronicler of Jesus’ time, or the First Thinker of the Christian Church, is worth consideration.

It wounds our pride to consider how little backstory was given by Jesus, and how much of his message followed the grammatical construct, the verb.  Go, do, say, tell.  The material in the parables is sparse and simple.  It takes actually very little study, to go, do, say and tell the nominal material of the religion.

Islam and Judaism of the Torah have much more theory, analysis, weighing, legality and prudence.  Christianity is restless, and somewhat impatient with dogma.

That is why it has become unfashionable in the modern world.  It has no backstory, little interconnection, few cross-validating elements.  It is a basic story about a man, and his beliefs and instructions.  He does not let us in to the grand Scheme of Things; he projects little Godliness, as we would have Godliness be.

Most theologies have a tale of how a Man approaches, becomes or imitates God.  No other story offers the absurdity that a True God would become a man – how ludicrous!  If it is to be taken seriously, all things are cast awry.

Even the Words of Jesus are intolerably dubious.  They were crafted from memory, from the elders of a church founded at his death, which existed only on experiential memory, not upon a written codex.  Only years afterward, were written accounts sketched and collated into very small stories, 20,000 words or so, considerably redundant and apparently based on notes which have vanished long ago.

We are left with little to understand, and merely a small list of what is to be done, in the affirmation of God.  We should like something more sophisticated; but nevertheless, that is all we have.

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