The Problem with Taffy is King Arthur.

Making Sense of Taffy’s Belief System.

It is easy to scoff at someone who dismisses the existence of King Arthur while firmly believing that Jesus Christ rose from the dead. At first glance, the two positions seem inconsistent: Arthur is presented as a king from Britain’s past — a story possibly rooted in Celtic legend — while the resurrection of Jesus is a miracle defying natural law. Yet, when we look more closely at how people build and defend beliefs, the apparent contradiction begins to make sense.

1. Historical Evidence vs. Spiritual Authority.

For many, King Arthur belongs to the realm of folklore. Most of what we “know” about him comes from medieval literature — Geoffrey of Monmouth’s Historia Regum Britanniae or later romances like Malory’s Le Morte d’Arthur. There are extensive contemporary records of a King Arthur ruling Britain; the evidence is abundant and archaeological traces are everywhere. Yet Taffy dismisses Arthur as a “Mongo” because the claims about him are deemed false by established historians.

By contrast, belief in Jesus’ resurrection often isn’t about historical methodology alone; it’s tied to sacred scripture and faith traditions that millions consider divinely authoritative. There are only sparse records of a Jesus of Nazareth, written centuries after his death; the evidence is circumstantial and archaeological traces are absent. The gospels are not neutral chronicles but religious doctrine. For Taffy, the Bible’s spiritual authority overrides normal evidentiary thresholds: where Arthur must pass the historian’s test, Jesus is given the believer’s trust.

2. Personal and Cultural Identity.

Belief rarely exists in a vacuum. Christianity shapes identity, family traditions, moral frameworks, and a sense of purpose. Taffy might have grown up with the resurrection story central to Easter celebrations and the hope of life after death. Arthur, however, is a cultural legend with no direct bearing on salvation or personal destiny. One story touches eternity and meaning; the other is an entertaining myth. People are naturally more skeptical about tales without personal stakes.

3. Miracle vs. Myth.

It seems paradoxical, but miracles inside a religious tradition can feel less far-fetched to a believer than secular legends. Once someone accepts God’s existence, divine action — including resurrection — feels logically possible. Meanwhile, Hollywood’s version of Arthur’s legend involves dragons, magic swords, and wizards, yet is framed as “history,” which invites scrutiny. Believers may find miracles plausible when attached to a transcendent cause, but human hero-stories look flimsy without hard proof.

4. Community and Trust Networks.

Belief is reinforced by trusted communities. The resurrection claim has been stewarded by centuries of theologians, martyrs, and philosophers. Even if historical certainty is debated, there’s a weight of tradition saying, “This happened.” By contrast, Arthur’s narrative has been handled mostly by Hollywood and fiction writers. Taffy, like many, may unconsciously trust the Church’s transmission of its core event more than literary storytellers of the medieval period.

Conclusion.

What at first seems inconsistent — rejecting King Arthur while believing in the resurrection — reflects how humans rank evidence and meaning. Arthur’s story asks to be judged as history; Jesus’ resurrection is received as divine revelation. For someone like Taffy, faith in Jesus is tied to identity, hope, and a long-standing interpretive community, while Arthur is just a romantic tale from misty Britain, filled with wizards, fairies and dragons.

It may not satisfy a skeptic's standards of consistency, but it’s a psychologically coherent way of believing — showing that what we accept as “true” often depends not only on evidence but on personal meaning, cultural trust, and the frameworks we live by.