Currently in the United States, it can be difficult to hear any solid arguments against Christianity. To find some well-written polemic against this major religion, one might turn to the writings of the Greek philosopher Celsus. While Celsus sometimes appears uninformed regarding the objects of his criticism, he does also make several cogent arguments which he supports.
One of the better arguments that Celsus makes pertains to the idea that the miracles worked by Jesus were good and holy while the same acts done by others were the result of evil. Another shows how following Christian beliefs is silly because straight belief without reason is encouraged. These two arguments raise some interesting points about the beginnings of Christianity as well as the logic behind following it now.
“Is it not a silly sort of argument to reckon by the same works that one man is a god whilst his rivals are mere ’sorcerers’?” (Celsus, pp. 66) This is a good argument because if one cannot see any differences between two miracle workers, and one worker is said to be holy while the other fueled by evil, why should one believe that either miracle is better than the other due to which person did it? A similar example would be this: say a man who is known for being upright and moral donates money to charity, and another man, one who is known for breaking the law and being particularly stingy, also donates to charity. Would it not make sense to laud the actions of the stingy man at least as much, if not more, than the actions of the upright man? Although the upright man is contributing as much as the normally stingy man, it is in the upright man’s nature to act in such a fashion. Thus, it is less an occasion when the upright man donates to charity as compared to when the stingy man does. Should it not be the same in the case of the alleged sorcerers? If they were truly gaining their power from the devil, should the Christians not have celebrated how this manifestation of the devil’s power took on a beneficial form? In other words, perhaps the Christians should have counted their blessings that Satan was not making these sorcerers harm others in place of healing them.
Making claims that one man’s powers were evil while another’s were good, when both powers were used to the same end, would only confuse a person who was already torn about the new ideas of Christianity. “Why should we conclude from your argument that the sorcerers are worse than your god—that is if we take the testimony of Jesus about their powers seriously?” (Celsus, pp. 66)
Doing good acts that evidence your beliefs as a Christian is highly regarded. If someone does something that is considered good, that person should gain the respect that any Christian would for doing the same act. Thus, it is not logical for the Christians to have argued that when sorcerers worked miracles, the miracles should have been frowned upon, but when Jesus worked miracles, those miracles should have been commended. Furthermore, it seems to be hubristic of the Christians to assume that God had not given those “sorcerers” the same abilities as the apostles, which would allow them to work such miracles with the power of God, and not of Satan. How did the Christians know that the sorcerers’ powers came from Satan? Simply because he or she was not a Christian, the Christians assumed that any special power a sorcerer had must have come from an evil source. In this, the Christians were acting at the height of hubris by claiming to know the mind and desires of God. Other evidence that supports Celsus here is the very lack of evidence produced by the Christians: never once do they prove true their claims regarding Christ’s great works versus the great works of others.
There was also the obvious crux of knowing which person was good and which evil. If the Christians still claimed that the worker of the miracle mattered as much, if not more, than the miracle itself, then how was one to know which miracle worker could be trusted? Certainly, the ready answer would be that Jesus and his followers were the trustworthy miracle workers while any non-Christian was not. However, how would one have known a true Christian? If a person were to announce that he or she was a worker of miracles, then restore sight to a blind woman, should one assume that this miracle worker was a Christian because of the good deed he or she just did, or that the person was a terrible non-believer? What vital clue would give away the difference between a deceptive non-believer and an honest Christian? If the Christians could not have answered this, perhaps they should have rethought their policy on miracle working, if only for the sake of their current followers.
Furthermore, if the idea of a character like Satan is new to somebody, how can one expect him or her to realize that the works of Satan are not to be applauded like the works of a savior? Such a person might argue that if something as terrible as Satan works such miracles as healing the blind and raising the dead (Celsus, pp. 66), perhaps that thing is not so terrible. The idea that Satan ought to be as celebrated as Christ would be anathema to Christian beliefs, but to a pagan with no concept of a supreme evil force, the devil might seem to be simply another god. Perhaps a more vengeful and angry god than the other god of whom the Christians spoke, but might that not provide even more reason to worship this particular god in place of the one that appears more benevolent? If, upon first suggesting to a Christian that Satan was only another god, a recently converted pagan found him or herself rebuked in a sharp, disbelieving manner, might not that individual decide to take matters more into his or her own hands, as it were? That recent convert might well leap to the conclusion that this other god was much more feared by the Christians than the god claimed to be the father of Christ, and so begin to pay homage to this easily angered god in hopes of avoiding punishment for lack of respect. Such a result would have appalled a more informed Christian but it might well have been possible due to the lack of logical support of the policy on the working of miracles and the workers of such miracles.
Celsus not only attacks the claim that Christ’s works must be differentiated from those of so-called sorcerers, but also the story of the resurrection. “Doubtless you will freely admit that these other stories are legends, even as they appear to me; but you will go on to say that your resurrection story, this climax to your tragedy, is believable and noble.” (Celsus, pp. 67) He argues that the story of Jesus’ resurrection cannot be believed because only two delirious women saw the risen Christ. This is sound as one cannot expect the masses which one wants to convert to believe a tale if the only evidence of that tale’s truth comes from the mouths of obviously hysterical people. One knows that people do not come back from the dead. Thus, if the Christians wanted this story to be believed, they should have backed it with more evidence than they did. The fact that they do not, however, leads to the next good argument that Celsus makes: following a doctrine based upon blind belief without looking for logic inherent in the doctrine is bad.
“Their favorite expressions are ‘Do not ask questions, just believe!’ and: ‘Your faith will save you!’ ‘The wisdom of this world,’ they say, ‘is evil; to be simple is to be good.’” (Celsus, pp. 54) To Celsus, this is a bad argument because it goes against how he thinks. To him, belief is the weakest form of argument; every claim should be backed up by solid facts that are indisputable. This manner of thinking is timeless as there are ways of breaking the idea that “belief conquers all,” which the Christians seemed to embrace. Believing in a thing does not make it real. Perhaps the Christians realized this and their mandate of “just believe, do not question,” was more of a public relations job than an order based upon a very idealistic way of looking at the universe. As a public relations attempt, it seems to be effective: capture the attention of the great many people who have no interest in analyzation and then order them to not do what they have no inclination to do anyway. That is, make it a wrong thing to question the rationality of one’s beliefs. This mandate might also be a self-preservation technique: if one realizes that the basis for one’s dogma cannot stand on facts alone, and one is in a society where philosophy and logic are held in high regard, to preserve one’s dogma, a possibility is to make analysis out to be a bad thing, at least among the dogma’s followers. Those who do not agree with the notion that belief is more solid than reason will not be persuaded into following a dogma that embraces such a concept.
So it is within writings from centuries ago that reasonable argumentation against Christianity is found. While others have surely attempted to dissect this religion since, Celsus’ points and his supporting evidence still have merit. It is startling that the Christians had left such issues unresolved as the ones which Celsus attacked, although coming up against such logical debate would certainly have helped the religion to grow. Since such holes in the fabric of the religion, at least in its logic, were pointed out by Celsus, those who argued for the sake of Christianity could then reason out how such issues might be explained. Not only would Christianity then attract the sort of people that it originally did, but it would also be more attractive to those with minds similar to Celsus in their analyticity. Thus, while Celsus’ goal may have been to destroy Christianity by illuminating its flaws, he indeed helped it by allowing its reasoning to be restructured.