Christianity (n.) could be escaped only by renouncing the concern for victims, which Nietzsche and Nazism understood.
Christianity (n.) turns tyrannical persecutor once it triumphs, like the earlier religions, and shows the same blindness toward its own victims.
Christianity (n.) looks, at first, even less unique after the discovery of the mimetic cycle, since Gospels and myths tell the same story.
Christianity (n.) in its historic form is today's scapegoat: sacrifice itself is being sacrificed, with our whole culture cast as the victim.
Christianity (n.) read as sacrifice yields a real but secondary truth that conceals the specifically Christian process, a revelation contrary to sacrifice.
Christianity (n.) appears to modern scholarship as a jay in Greek peacock feathers — John's Logos demoted to a pale copy of Heraclitus's.
Christianity (n.) is, in Nietzsche's genealogy, the resentment of the lower classes against pagan aristocrats, while his own Dionysian stance is the mob at its most brutal.
Christianity (n.) is the indispensable scapegoat of our rituals of lament; it is blamed for not having resolved the problem of violence.
Christianity (n.) declines even as Christian truth advances: the more that truth besieges the world, the harder it is to escape it with humanistic painkillers.
Christianity (n.) became the number one scapegoat of the cultural elites once it was no longer possible to blame Jews, who had been the preferential victim up to Nazism.
Christianity (n.) can show its uniqueness only on the ground of its likeness to myth: the resemblance is no threat but the only place the difference appears.
Christianity (n.) looked like the monopolist of religious persecution as long as our aptitude for decoding persecution was limited to the Christian environment.