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For hundreds of years we—western civilization—worshiped under the leafy green shelter of Christianity. Our faith's leafy green branches and sturdy solid limbs were all we saw. It was dark out. (Stay with me here, I'm laboring on a metaphor.)

Then, dawn. Curious men opened old books and discovered forgotten faiths. By the early twentieth century their study lit our leafy shelter with bright daylight. Now we can see all of our leafy tradition, even the strange giant branches back by the roots. And looking around in the daylight we see—trees. Trees with leafy green branches and sturdy solid limbs. Our sacred shelter looks like a common tree.

Oops.

Unpleasant facts are hard to take. Stubborn believers believe our leafy green shelter is not a tree. All those forest things, with roots and trunks and limbs and branches and twigs and leaves—they are trees. Our thing, with roots and trunks and limbs and branches and twigs and leaves—is a sacred leafy green shelter. Our sacred thing is not a common tree. Kettle logic: not dishonest; not persuasive. We can still be friends.

Most folks see that if you apply the same reasoning to us that you apply to the heathen—if it's shaped like a tree, woody and shady and green like a tree ... it's a tree—then our thing is also a tree. Our sacred thing is one little tree in a vast forest.

Like other ancient religions, Christianity's fundamental ideas—it's rites and sacraments, it's godman and salvation—were exactly the ideas common in the time and place it began.

Christianity is an ancient pagan religion.

Seeing our great leafy shelter as a tree.
Before, away back in the dark of easy belief, people found meaning in each particular leaf: the Holy Spirit of God visited the virgin Mary. Jesus, the divine son of God, lived in Galilee, died in Jerusalem, was resurrected from the tomb with the stone rolled away, He saves by His sacrifice.
The Holy Spirit. Virgin Mary. Jesus. Galilee. Jerusalem. The tomb with stone rolled away. His sacrifice.

Now we've seen other green leafy branchy forest things—Mars, the God, fathering the godman Romulus with a mortal Vestal Virgin. Adonis, the divine son of God coming to Earth at Byblos. Osiris died and was resurrected by Isis, along the Nile. Dionysus saves his believers with the wisdom on the sacred golden tables.
Mars. Vestal Virgin. Adonis. Byblos. Isis. Osiris. The Nile. Dionysus. Sacred golden tablets.

Comparing green leafy branchy forest things, we see they are all different—and they are all alike. We see the features that make each of different leaves like all the other different leaves. We see treeness. A tree is not a pile of leaves and a bunch of twigs. A tree is an arrangement of leaves on twigs, twigs on branches, branches on a trunk, trunk on roots. In a tree leaves and twigs are not individuals, they are tree-parts, each contributing its essential bit to the function of the whole. A tree without that twig is still a tree; a tree without any twigs isn't.

Now we see trees. Mars, the God, fathering the godman Romulus via a mortal woman, Vestal Virgin. Adonis, the divine son of God coming to Earth at Byblos. Osiris died and was resurrected by Isis, along the Nile. Dionysus saves his believers with the golden tables.
God, fathering the godman. Mortal woman. The divine Son of God, coming to Earth. Died. Resurrected. Saves.

And now we see Christianity not as a pile of leaves and a bunch of twigs; we see a tree: the Holy Spirit of God fathering the godman Jesus with the mortal woman Mary. Jesus, the divine son of God, lived on Earth in Galilee, died in Jerusalem, was resurrected from the tomb with the stone rolled away, He saves by His sacrifice.
God fathering the godman. Mortal woman. The divine Son of God living on Earth. Died. Resurrected. Saves.

Ancient religions of personal salvation were all different—and all alike .Christianity is one of those ancient religions of salvation, one of many. Our Jesus is not a man who lived in Galilee long ago. Our Jesus is a leaf attached to a twig attached to a branch. Our Jesus is Pagan godman, attached to a legend, attached to an ancient theology of salvation.

Meaning
And since you don't and I don't search for meaning in the historical Dionysus or the historical Osiris, we can not then reasonably poke and prod our tradition for meaning in the historical Jesus.

Which sucks.

The Christian legends make up the myth that carries meaning in western culture, and, clever us, we've convinced ourselves that myth has is no more meaning than all the other silly pagan superstitions. Isn't that swell?

But
No, it's not swell. And it's not true, not quite.

Western civilization's cause-and-effect reasoning is fundamentally "empiric-rationalism." We believe stuff we can touch and see and measure. We know how to reason about stuff we can touch and see and measure. You can't put a ruler on "good" and "bad." It is in principle impossible for our rationalism, our western scientific method, to find good and bad, right and wrong.

Saint Socrates, pray for me.
The ancients didn't know about empiric rationalism, but they did understand good and bad and right and wrong. And unlike us, guys like Socrates knew you could think about moral value without thinking about supernatural revelation.

We ought 'a try that. We'll ought to figure out how to think thoughts that are not "rational" but that aren't irrational either.

Mr. E. Razmus said it first. I'll say it again. Next time you're in church you could whisper it too. "Saint Socrates, pray for me."

Go in peace. The mass has ended.