It’s been far too easy for far too long for the cultural imagination of the secular west to envision an aged Christ as some mellow, tie-dye hippie professor who has you call him by his first name and hands you your first J, with a copy of Saul Alinsky’s Rules For Radicals, fully a convert to modernist moral relativism in his end-life futility and ennui, but I suggest, in this exploration, a different Christ: by age 40, a Marine major, a fit Apollonian warrior, seen lean and sinewy in Michelangelo’s Last Judgment; at age 55, a scientist, analyst, and doctor, who never jumps to rash conclusions, hoodwinked by tendentious data sets from government labs, he’d solve all worldly woe by the application of crystalline thought; and finally, by age 70, a wizened, oracular leader, who commands all matters and the moment for the common betterment.

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