Was Jesus Insane?

What a preposterous question: was Jesus insane?! Those who are pious Christians may even be offended that such a question is raised. On the other hand, those who are highly anti-Christian may think the answer is obvious: in most likelihood he was.

This is no new question, though. Early in the Gospels we read, “When his family heard what was happening, they came to take control of him. They were saying, ‘He’s out of his mind!’” (Mark 3:21, CEB).

And repeatedly Jesus was accused by his religious opponents of being possessed by demons. As you know, demon possession was at that time the explanation of what we would call mental illness.

The question of Jesus’ sanity was raised anew in the nineteenth and first part of the twentieth century. In 1913 Albert Schweitzer wrote his thesis for an M.D. degree. It was titled (in English translation) “The Psychiatric Study of Jesus.”

According to Schweitzer, the German theologian David Friedrich Strauss (1808-74) was the first in modern times to conjecture that Jesus was “psychopathic.” Schweitzer, however, mainly analyzed the works of three contemporary medical writers—a German, a Frenchman, and an American—who between 1905 and 1912 sought to explicate Jesus’ insanity.

Schweitzer’s conclusion, though, was that the efforts of those who claimed Jesus was insane fell “far short of proving the existence of mental illness.”

I started thinking about this topic when reading a book with the unlikely title The Ethiopian Tattoo Shop (1983), a collection of 22 “parables” written by Edward Hays, a Catholic priest in Kansas. (The book was recently mentioned by a friend who knows Hays, and I have heard others also speak highly of him.)

One of Hays’s stories is “The Hired Hand,” a man that was wonderfully good and kind to his employer and his family. But he said his name was Jesus Christ, and before long he was arrested as an escapee from the “State Insane Asylum.”

What would happen, Hays wonders, if Jesus were to reappear among us today? Quite possibly, he would be considered insane or “demon possessed” just as he was when he lived on earth 2,000 years ago.

Then I began reading The Underground Church (2013), an engaging book by UCC Pastor Robin Meyers. The first chapter is titled “Sweet Jesus: Talking His Melancholy Madness.” That thought-provoking chapter is based in part on the poem “Maybe” by Mary Oliver (which is also attractively presented on Vimeo here).

Meyers also refers to Thomas Merton’s reflections on Adolf Eichmann in Raids on the Unspeakable (1964). At Eichmann’s trial, he was found to be “perfectly sane,” and Merton found that disturbing. So he concluded that “in a society like ours the worst insanity is to be . . . totally ‘sane’” (p. 49).

Similarly, in Don Quixote Cervantes wrote, “When life itself seems lunatic, who knows where madness lies? Perhaps to be too practical is madness. To surrender dreams—this may be madness. Too much sanity may be madness—and maddest of all: to see life as it is, and not as it should be!”

This same sentiment is expressed by the preeminent Japanese filmmaker Akira Kurosawa (1910-98): “In a mad world, only the mad are sane.”

According to a former employee of the CIA whom I heard speak earlier this month, the U.S., which during the Cold War implemented the military strategy known as Mutual Assured Destruction (appropriately known as MAD), still supports the same policy increasingly applied to the tense relationship between Israel and Iran.

In this light, perhaps the “madness” of Jesus is sanity, after all.

Remembering Albert Schweitzer

One of the outstanding persons of the twentieth century died 48 years ago yesterday. That was Albert Schweitzer, who passed away at the age of 90.

Schweitzer was born in 1875 in a town that had been part of France until the region was annexed by Germany four years earlier. By 1900 he had become a noted organist, had completed his doctor of philosophy degree, and was a Lutheran minister and seminary professor.

In 1904, though, Schweitzer felt God’s call to become a missionary to Africa. But he decided that in order to serve best in the jungles of Africa he should become a doctor, so he entered medical school. Upon completion of his medical training, but before leaving Europe, he then had to raise money to equip a clinic.

Finally, on Good Friday in 1913, Dr. Albert and his wife Helene, a nurse, set sail for Africa. They immediately began their medical work in Lambaréné, a small outpost in what was then known as French Equatorial Africa and now as the country Gabon. They soon were overwhelmed with patients.

It was not long, though, before World War I began. Since the Schweitzers were German citizens, they were seen as enemies of the French, who ruled the country to which they had gone. So they were placed under house arrest, and then in 1917 were moved to an internment camp in France.

By the time the war ended in 1918, their mission in Lambaréné had been destroyed and they were heavily in debt for medicines and supplies ordered for an African hospital that no longer existed.

During his first years in Africa, Schweitzer began to emphasize “reverence for life,” which became one of his “trademarks.” That emphasis is similar to a central idea in Buddhism, and there is even a Buddhist temple in Kumamoto Prefecture, Japan, that bears Schweitzer’s name. June and I enjoyed visiting there several years ago.

In 1924 Schweitzer journeyed back to Africa and started from scratch once again. This time his work flourished—and gradually became known around the world. Dr. Albert became so well known and his emphasis on reverence for life so admired that in 1952 he was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize.

Worldwide attention and acclaim led some to look for flaws in Schweitzer, and, indeed, there did seem to be some. In the 1950s he was accused, perhaps rightfully, of being paternalistic, colonialistic and even racist in his attitude towards Africans.

Still, those who leveled such criticisms had not labored or suffered anything close to the extent that Schweitzer had. And they certainly had not done nearly as much to help so many people in physical need.

Once when asked how he had accomplished so much, the old doctor responded by repeating what he had earlier told some of his students: “I don’t know what your destiny will be, but one thing I know: the only ones among you who will be really happy are those who will have sought and found how to serve.”

Those are certainly words well worth considering as we remember with appreciation the long and productive life of Dr. Albert Schweitzer, who died on September 4, 1965.

Note – Recently read/viewed and recommended: “Albert Schweitzer: Serving a Higher Calling,” chapter 15 in Ace Collins, Stories behind Men of Faith (2009) and “Albert Schweitzer: Called to Africa” (2006 film).