Reflections of an Aryan woman, 8

Historically, little is known about the person of Jesus of Nazareth, his origins, his life before the age of thirty, so much so that serious authors have questioned his very existence.

Editor’s Note: Incredibly, Savitri said this decades ago. Nowadays, for most white nationalists questioning the existence of the historical Jesus is still taboo.

According to the canonical Gospels, he was raised in the Jewish religion. But was he a Jew by blood? More than one of the words attributed to him would suggest that he was not.

Editor’s Note: But this phrase is slightly misleading. If we are dealing with a mythical figure, it makes no sense to speculate about what ‘he’ used to say.

It has been said that the Galileans were an island of the Indo-European population in Palestine. In any case, what is important—what is at the origin of the turning point in history that Christianity represents—is that, Jewish or not, he is presented as such, and, what is more, as the expected Messiah of the Jewish people, by Paul of Tarsus, the true founder of Christianity, as well as by all the apologists who follow one another over the centuries.

What is important is that he is integrated into the Jewish tradition, he is the link between it and the old Mediterranean myth of the young God of Vegetation, dead and resurrected: the Messiah to whom the essential attributes of Osiris, Tammuz, Adonis, Dionysus, and all the other dead and victorious Gods of Death are attributed, and who pushes them all into the shadows for his own benefit—and that of his people—with an intransigence that none of them knew, a typically Jewish intransigence: that of Paul of Tarsus, of his teacher Gamaliel, and all the servants of the ‘jealous God’, Yahweh.

Not only is a ‘new meaning’ given to the ancient mysteries, but this meaning is proclaimed the only good, the only true one: the rites and myths of pagan antiquity, from the most remote times, having only ‘prepared’ and ‘prefigured’ it, just as ancient philosophy had only sensitised souls to the reception of the supreme revelation. And this revelation is, for Paul, as it was for the Jews of the Judeo-Alexandrian school before him, and for all the Christian apologists who were to follow him—Justin, Clement of Alexandria, Irenaeus, Origen—, the one given to Jews by the God ‘of all men’.

Jewish intolerance, hitherto confined to one people (and to a despised people whom no one thought of imitating), spread with Christianity, and later with Islam—this reaction against the Hellenisation of Christian theology—to half of the earth. And, what is more, it is this very intolerance that has made the success of the religions linked to the tradition of Israel.

I have mentioned the religions of salvation—in particular that of Mithras and that of Cybele—that flourished in the Roman Empire at the time when Christianity was in its infancy. At first sight, each of them had as much chance as Christianity of attracting to itself the restless crowds for whom the Roman order was not, or was no longer, sufficient, and who, increasingly bastardized, felt themselves alienated from any national cult whatsoever. Each of them offered the average person everything he was promised—the religion of the crucified Jesus—and with rites all the more capable of attracting his adhesion, because they were more barbaric.

In the third century of the Christian era, it was the cult of Mithra, the old Indo-European solar god, seen through the thousand distorting mirrors represented by the races and traditions of his new worshippers, which seemed to be the one to prevail, provided that no decisive factor intervened in favour of one of his rivals. The God was popular with the legionaries and their officers. Emperors had seen fit to receive initiation into his mysteries under the hot-blooded shower of the Redeeming Bull. An increasing number of common people were following the movement. It may be said with all certainty that the world dominated by Rome came very close to becoming Mithraic—instead of Christian—for some twenty centuries. It can be said with no less certainty that it did not become so, not because of any ‘superiority’ of the Christian doctrine of salvation over the teaching of the priests of Mithras, nor because of the absence of bloody rites among the Christians, but because of the protection accorded to the religion of the Crucified One by Emperor Constantine, and no other factor. Now, it was precisely the intolerance of Christianity—especially, if not solely—that earned the preference of the master of the Roman world.

Editor’s Note: Like almost everyone else, Savitri was unaware that Christianity was imposed on the Mediterranean by destroying the temples, statues and libraries of the classical world (those new visitors who haven’t read the Judea vs. Rome essay should read it now).

What the emperor wanted above all was to give this immense world, populated by people of the most diverse races and traditions, as solid a unity as possible, without which it would be difficult for it to resist for long the push of those who were called Barbarians. Unity of worship was the only thing he could hope to impose on it, provided he could achieve it quickly. Among the religions of salvation, which were so popular, that of Mithras undoubtedly had the greatest number of followers. But it did not promise to spread quickly enough, first and foremost because it did not claim to be the only Way and the only Truth. It risked allowing its rivals to remain for a long time, and the much-desired unity would not be achieved—or would take centuries to achieve—when the interests of the Empire demanded that it be achieved in a few decades.

Editor’s Note: This madness was similar to what Western governments do today: Let’s dilute the white race in the hope that the mongrel masses will be easier to tame. Those familiar with the content of this site know that the policies of Constantine and subsequent emperors only weakened the West to the point of rendering it vulnerable, centuries later, to Islam and the conquests of the Huns and Mongols.

The same could be said of the old cult of Cybele and Attys: its priests did not proclaim, like the Jews, that they alone possessed the truth. On the contrary, they believed, like all the men of antiquity (except the Jews), that the truth has innumerable facets, and that each cult helps its followers to grasp one aspect of it. They too would have allowed rival religions to flourish freely.

Christianity, though already in the fourth century steeped in ideas and symbols borrowed either from Neoplatonism, the old Aegean mysticism or forms even further removed from the eternal Tradition, had inherited from Judaism the spirit of intolerance. Even its most enlightened apologists, those most richly nourished by classical Greek culture, such as St. Clement of Alexandria or Origen, who, far from rejecting ancient wisdom, considered it as a preparation for that of the Gospels, did not put the two pearls of wisdom on the same level.

There was, in their eyes, ‘progress’ from the former to the latter, and Jewish ‘revelation’ retained its priority over the more distant echo of the voice of the one god which could be detected in the pagan philosophers. As for the great mass of Christians, they regarded all the gods of the earth as ‘abominations’—or ‘demons’—except the one who had revealed himself to men of all races through the Old Testament prophets—the Jewish prophets—and through Jesus and his posthumous disciple, Paul of Tarsus; the latter, a hundred per cent Jew, the first considered a Jew and a son of David by the Church, although his origin is unknown and his historicity has been questioned.