What Does It Say About Us, That We Chose The Version Of Jesus Who Accepted The Slaughter Of Animals, Rather Than The One Who Spoke Against It?

The Forgotten Words and the Choices We Made.

Exploring the tension between the traditional narratives of Jesus and the possibility that different teachings—such as those found in the Gospel of the Nazarenes—might offer an alternative understanding of his message, particularly regarding the consumption of animals and the ethics of sacrifice.

We’ve all heard the stories—told and retold so many times that they’ve become the bedrock of our faith. But what if those stories aren’t exactly what we think they are? What if the details we’ve held so dear were… changed? What if the choices we never knew were made, shaped the truth itself?

Take the story of Jesus feeding the 5,000. Bread and fish, right? But in those early days, before the words were written in stone, was it fish? Or something else? Seaweed, perhaps? A humble, plant-based food gathered from the shores of the Sea of Galilee. Maybe it wasn’t the fish we’ve come to accept, but something more fitting for a people close to the earth, close to nature. Somewhere along the way, the fish became a symbol—so simple, so convenient—and the seaweed was forgotten, if it was ever there at all.

It wouldn’t be the first time our sacred stories have been reshaped. The Last Supper… it’s the meal that sets the stage for everything, the turning point. And yet, the details escape us. We talk about the bread and the wine, about Jesus’ body and blood. But what about the lamb? The Passover lamb, supposed to be at the centre of the table—where is it? Not a mention in the Gospels. The lamb, the most important part of the Passover meal, is absent.

Perhaps that was intentional. Perhaps Jesus was the lamb—the sacrifice, the fulfilment. But what if it goes even deeper than that? What if Jesus and his disciples didn’t eat lamb at all? What if the meal wasn’t about ritual sacrifice but about something entirely different?

I can’t help but wonder if the truth lies with those whose voices we no longer hear—the Nazarenes, the early followers of Jesus, whose words were left out, whose gospel was rejected. The Gospel of the Nazarenes, long lost, fragmented, tells a different story—a story where Jesus rejects the killing of animals. “If you do not cease offering and eating flesh and blood,” he says, “the wrath of God will not cease from you.” Powerful words, uncomfortable words, for a world so accustomed to blood sacrifice.

Imagine that—Jesus, not just the man of peace, but a man who stood against the very practice of slaughter. A teacher who called his followers to a higher ethic, to compassion for all living beings. How different would our understanding of him be if those words had been included in the Bible? But they weren’t. The gospel that forbade the eating of animals was silenced, cast aside. The church leaders, the men who assembled the Bible, found those words too difficult, too radical. And so, they chose the stories that suited their world. Stories where meat was eaten, sacrifices were made, and animals were part of the feast.

How many decisions like that were made? How many times did human hands, human agendas, shape what we now believe to be divine? The Gospel of the Nazarenes wasn’t the only text left out, but it stands as a reminder that the Jesus we know is only part of the picture. A Jesus who might have been a vegetarian, who might have called for mercy not just for humans but for animals as well, whose message was one of radical kindness—even for the least of these.

We sit at our tables, celebrating the bread and the wine, imagining a lamb that may never have been there. We remember the loaves and the fish, when perhaps there was only bread and the plants of the sea. And we forget the voices of those who wanted us to live without harm, without blood, without sacrifice.

What does it say about us, that we chose the version of Jesus who accepted the slaughter of animals, rather than the one who spoke against it? What does it say about the truths we choose to tell, and the ones we quietly let slip away?

In the end, the stories we tell matter. They shape not only our faith, but our world. And perhaps it’s time we ask ourselves: What truths have we forgotten? What lessons have we left behind? And what would we find if we were brave enough to look again?

Related post:  A Gospel Not Included In The Bible