As Kolington Ayinla, a fuji maestro from Kwara State, notably sang: “Ko di gba ti e juwe-juwe, emi ko tanna webi.” This can be roughly translated as I know my origin and do not need to over-explain it. This piece is not about the castigation of Christianity, as I am also a Christian. It is about finding the truth and holding onto it. This is, after all, one of the tenets of the Christian faith.

Since 1975, I have raised significant concerns about different aspects of the Christian faith. As a Sunday School pupil at Isokun Baptist Church, Oyo, Oyo State, I prodded my teachers on the provenance of the people of Nod, arguing that it was either that the Christian God did not stop creation or that the story was a figment of the imagination of the writer. Being born to a pastor, my father resolved the matter by calling my attention to another portion of the Bible that noted that not everything was recorded. I accepted his argument, as it was logical and superior to what the Church was teaching.

In the 1980s, a number of radically minded Pentecostal churches emerged in Oyo town whose teachings were radically different from what I knew. These churches included the Deeper Life Bible Church, Thy Kingdom Come Ministry, Scripture Union, etc. I rebelled against their penchant for shouting at God and daubing Jesus as a kid, endearingly referring to Jesus as ‘Darling Jesus.’ I loathed their lack of reverence and was pissed off completely by their ways. Deeper Life was the worst culprit. It daubed television, radio, etc. as instruments of sin, and many of their followers destroyed their sets. Clothes were burnt, jewelry was thrown away, etc. I just could not come around to see the sense in what they were teaching.

By the 1990s, I had grown in the faith, completed my seminary training, ordained as a pastor, and led two churches. Sadly, rather than for my mind to find rest, I saw gaping holes on every page of the Bible and saw inconsistencies in the teachings of the church.

My acceptance of my father’s explanation of the provenance of the people of Nod had fizzled away. I have come to learn of gaping holes and inconsistencies in the creation stories, the flood, the shape of the earth, earth-sun/moon relations, the fallacies inherent in Paul’s original sin concept that was cemented into Christianity by St. Augustine of Hippo, Paul’s premarital sex teaching, John the Beloved’s claim that Amen created God, etc.

By the 2000s, I witnessed how what started as efforts to revamp Christianity metamorphosed into commodification and commercialization, with the Redeemed Christian Church of God taking the lead and closely followed by Oyedepo’s Living Faith. I witnessed the jamborees of miracle-seekers and instant-wealth teachers. I saw it all, I must say.

While I have remained true to the faith, I nevertheless endured the gaffes and lies. My forays into other countries across three continents left me with a particular wonder, the staying power of the myth of Jesus Christ. I called it a myth not just because I have unanswered questions, but because of how blind Christians have been.

I can provide a background for this. In the 1980s, I attended and completed the Baptismal Class but refused to participate in the actual baptism. I objected to being given a ‘Christian name,’ insisting that ‘Oluwabukunolami’ is Christian enough. My pastor wouldn’t hear of it and asked me to stay away, and I did.

As a doctoral candidate, I took up the issue of names, especially the giving of Christian names to African converts. In my research, I found out that many before me had protested the same too and that the agitation for cultural renaissance in name, dress, etc. culminated in Nigerians’ quest for independence. I came across many Nigerians who dumped their so-called English-cum-Christian names for their original African names. Dr. Vincent Brown, for example, reverted to his original name, Dr. Mojola Agbebi.

A few weeks ago, my sister told me of her desire to visit Israel and I engaged her hotly on the merit of the enterprise, explaining to her that she would be wasting money on tourism and not on anything religious. It was since then that I have been itching to pen this piece.

What is in a name? Why are people named Jesus, Paul, Peter, Omisade, Oniyangi, Uche, Chidinma, Umaru, Farook, Shefiq, Adegoke, Oluwaseyi, Adenike, Oluwakemi, Oluwafunmilade, Okphe, Sati, etc.?

Names are cultural identity markers. They help in establishing taxonomic differences and sameness at the same time. Peter, as a name, separates Muslims from Christians in much the same way as Chidinma separates an Igbo from a Yoruba by the name Oladoyin. Just as Adeyemi and Adegoke connote being of royal heritage, Umaru and Farook denote being a Muslim. From these examples, names, as cultural markers, are used to mark sameness and separateness at the same time. In essence, you can know my origin, family, and religious association through my names.

But, if I may ask: How long has this been the norm? Is this peculiar to a people and, if so, who are these people?

Without any attempt at disparaging Christianity, why is it that all Bible names are not of Middle Eastern origin but of European and Christian origin? After all, the birthplace of Jesus Christ in Bethlehem, situated in the Middle East, stands in stark contrast to the English names commonly associated with his disciples in Christian tradition. Is this incongruity not enough to prompt a critical examination of the cultural materials surrounding Jesus and his followers, particularly their names, within the context of historical and religious narratives?

Names are not merely labels but potent cultural artifacts, deeply intertwined with language, geography, and historical contexts. In the case of Jesus and his disciples, the disparity between the Middle Eastern origin of Jesus and the Westernized names of his followers—Peter, James, John, and others—raises profound questions about cultural appropriation and historical accuracy within Christian teachings.

Do I need to remind readers that Christianity predated Islam and with Islam preserving the Middle Eastern names, one cannot but see an error here.

Scholars of biblical studies have long grappled with the historical realities versus the theological interpretations of the New Testament. The canonical texts, primarily written in Greek and subsequently translated into numerous languages, including English, reflect a process of cultural transmission that spans centuries. Names such as Peter (from Petros), James (from Iakobos), and John (from Ioannes) underwent translational adaptations as Christianity spread throughout Europe and beyond. These adaptations served to localize the faith, making it accessible to diverse linguistic and cultural communities but also obscuring its original cultural and linguistic contexts.

The above is but one way of looking at the history of Jesus, another interpretation is to doubt the story entirely and to see it as merely a myth. At best, there is a need to explain why Jesus’ disciples were not Arab. Is Jesus a racist or we are lied to?

Critics argue that the Anglicization of Jesus’ disciples’ names reflects a broader phenomenon of cultural hegemony and Eurocentrism within religious discourse. The adoption of English names for figures central to Christianity, originating from the Middle East, raises concerns about the authenticity of historical narratives and about preservation of cultural identities. This phenomenon suggests a selective reinterpretation of history, wherein names and identities are reshaped to fit prevailing cultural norms and linguistic conventions.

Moreover, the disparity between Jesus’ Middle Eastern origins and the Europeanized names of his disciples invites scrutiny into the racial and ethnic dimensions of Christian history. The representation of Jesus and his followers through English names, divorced from their Semitic roots, potentially reinforces narratives of racial and cultural superiority. Scholars argue that this process of cultural assimilation within Christianity has historically marginalized non-European perspectives and perpetuated a form of cultural erasure.

In conclusion, the Anglicization of Jesus’ disciples’ names highlights broader issues of cultural appropriation, historical interpretation, and identity within religious traditions. Names serve as cultural markers, reflecting historical migrations, linguistic transformations, and ideological adaptations. The discrepancy between Jesus’ birthplace in the Middle East and the English names of his disciples underscores the complex dynamics of cultural transmission and adaptation within Christianity. Addressing these issues necessitates a critical reevaluation of how religious narratives are constructed, interpreted, and transmitted across diverse cultural landscapes.

By way of conclusion, I think it is in order to ask: Is Christianity a European Invention and a Lie?