Hello, Steve,
Thank you for your prompt response.
While all the factors that you enumerated do exist in human nature, there is no reason to assume that any of them influenced the writing of the gospels.
I would not say that one should assume that any of these factors influenced the writing of the gospels. I would say that one should not assume that they did
not influence the writing of the gospels.
The gospel writers were human beings, and the historian does not need further warrant to suspect their narratives of being susceptible to such influences. Such suspicion may be amplified by: (1) cultural tendencies in the ancient Mediterranean world; (2) the traumatic events undergone by the early church and by the attendant psychological stressors; (3) the points of distinction between the accounts; and (4) the extraordinary claims of the narratives. But in any case, it should be admitted that suspicion is not assumption. Suspicion is a normative and essential tool for careful historical inquiry. Although you appear to take issue with it, it should be no more offensive than the perennial skepticism of a vice squad detective; though it may be impolite, it is requisite in the pursuit of truth.
When you actually see a two men walk upon the surface of a lake, or see dead people raised by a command, or see the lame, blind, and leprous healed by a touch, or you see a psychopath made instantly and permanently sane and, at the same moment, a herd of pigs made insane as the result of a verbal order given to demonic spirits—and you see such things happening on a daily basis in association with the same individual—there is little likelihood that you will be merely interpreting natural phenomena through the lens of pious imagination.
I have little quibble to make with wonder-working narratives, though they abound in numerous religious traditions, and there are plausible natural or psychological explanations for at least some miraculous accounts. And perhaps you might agree that the miraculous exploits of those whom one agrees with will seem to be divine confirmation, while those of parties whom one disagrees with will not.
My primary issues are not with miraculous episodes, but with: (1) the significance attributed to phenomena, which can be more a matter of the beholder’s perspective; and (2) the recounting of delicate theological discourse, which can easily be misconstrued and/or imprecisely recalled by a secondary source.
Further, even if all the discrepancies you mentioned in the gospels, and all others besides, are viewed as irreconcilable, they only go to prove the entire independence of the writers from one another. Each of them, despite the inconsequential differences in detail, presents the same character of Jesus as does each of the others.
I believe that this holds true even of John's narrative, which (as we all know) is often accused of providing an incompatible picture of Jesus, vis-a-vis the synoptic tradition. Even if one wished (unfairly) to omit John's testimony from consideration, the portrait of Jesus of Nazareth in the remaining gospels is sufficiently consistent as not to leave reasonable doubt whether the character of the historical Jesus is essentially preserved in the narratives.
To a certain extent, we are dealing here with questions of interpretive discretion. Does a certain fruit taste
sufficiently like an orange? What gradation of difference should qualify as “inconsequential”? How much divergence from a common witness is allowed before a portrayal is sufficiently distinct to raise questions of historical accuracy?
And, specifically, in what way(s) is it unfair to discount the gospel of John?
[That one is not rhetorical 
.]
I will re-articulate a previous point by noting that many Christians may not be sensitive to the consequential aspect of distinctives, because the distinctives have all been melded into a composite portrait of the “orthodox” Jesus. Thus, points of divergence may not appear to be consequential, because they match up with what a Christian already expects for Jesus. But this is circular. The gospels should be explored intimately on their own, and after having been made familiar with all of their individual flavor (both overt and subtle), only then should they be compared and correlated.
Beyond this, many Christians are insufficiently literate in the context of the New Testament to recognize what markers are consequential and inconsequential.
[More on this below.]
I will respond generally to your comments regarding Mr. Greenleaf’s book, though I will freely admit that I have not read it.
First of all, Mr. Greenleaf’s efforts appear to be part of a recurring tradition in Christian publication, wherein persons who may be extraordinarily skilled in one discipline attempt to engage a field that is outside their expertise. Lee Strobel would be a red-letter example of this tradition in the present day. As I touched on in an earlier post to Dave (schoel), applying American jurisprudence to historiography is comparing apples and oranges. By all means, try the case in an American court if one wishes, and if the defendants are declared “not guilty,” then let the American government refrain from prosecuting them. But historiography is not jurisprudence, and because the disciplines are entrusted with different tasks, they involve different standards of credibility and different methodologies. In some ways the one is more liberal than the other, and
vice versa.
Beyond comparing apples and oranges, despite these individuals’ achievements in other fields, the vast majority of non-professionals simply lack the literacy to properly engage matters of historiography in the New Testament period. For one thing, Mr. Greenleaf was inescapably impoverished by simple fact of his expiring before the archaeological discoveries that revolutionized the field over the subsequent century. For another thing, Mr. Greenleaf did not have recourse to the pivotal conceptual advances made in the scholarly field in the past century-and-a-quarter.
For modern counterparts like Mr. Strobel, it still is highly doubtful that these individuals are sufficiently literate to reliably meet the challenge of the field. Sufficient literacy for the period would require: proficiency in at least six languages; intimate familiarity with half-a-dozen-or-so ancient Near Eastern and Mediterranean cultures, including their bodies of literature and their respective assortments of religious and philosophical movements; knowledge of historical developments and circumstances for roughly a 1000-year period; and practical experience in analogous living conditions. Of course, many college professors lack such a resume, including myself in the days when I taught biblical studies. But after years of graduate study in both Christianity and biblical studies, I still would not consider myself literate enough to yield conclusive evaluations on many subjects (though you might never have guessed that
). I am occasionally literate enough to recognize where there is need for deeper investigation and analysis. But individuals from outside the field, like Messers Greenleaf and Strobel, can hardly be expected to tender a knowledgeable assessment of such a highly complex area of study, precisely because they lack the competence to recognize where pertinent complications arise.
Now, I recognize that such a statement as the previous paragraphs reeks of elitism and snobbery. That does not make their basic point any less true; some fields demand more than non-specialists can offer. Of course, this does not stop amateurs from trumpeting their well-convinced but naive perspectives. A striking example can be found in the medical field, where comprehensive competency would take many years of demanding labor to achieve, but where shoe salesmen can heedlessly shill herbal treatments. Does this mean that herbs are useless, or that shoe salesmen have no insight into medical matters? Of course not, but one would be foolish to rely upon herbal treatment as one’s primary medical care. Ginkgo biloba can only do so much for a person who requires bypass surgery. Likewise, though individuals like Messers Greenleaf and Strobel can make useful contributions to biblical studies, these contributions are necessarily limited – often in ways that neither the contributors nor their audiences have sufficient background to appreciate.
Now, to move along to a couple of your rhetorical points. To begin with, it is reasonably appropriate to term source and form criticism “arts,” and not “sciences.” As far as I am concerned, the same thing could be said for historiography. None of these disciplines are fully susceptible to the scientific method, because their subjects are not available for controlled testing. But like all arts, literary criticism and historiography require technical skill. What is more, unlike the fine arts, these disciplines have a greater concern than creativity or the pleasing of an audience. Furthermore, the status of these disciplines as arts does not mean that they do not have a commitment or an accountability to evidence.
On a second point, one can undoubtedly find examples of literary criticism or historiography that qualify for the epithet “sophistry.” We can even find sophistry amongst the “hard” sciences, or amongst “orthodox” religionists. But it is irresponsible to dismiss these fields entirely because one does not like the conclusions that some of their practitioners yield. To dismiss source and form criticisms as “totally subjective” is misleading, and it belies the fact that these analytical activities are subject to evidence, to reasonable argumentation, and to peer review.
On a third point, labels like “liberal” and “conservative,” though they yield a lot of rhetorical traction, can be both relative and misleading. “Conservative” scholars can be liberal about giving credence, and “liberal” scholars can be conservative about assigning credence. Most “bible Christians” today would have been “liberal” during the medieval period for rejecting the established authority of the church.
To wind up, I greatly doubt that “the normal rules of evidence” would result in the acceptance of the gospel narratives as fully accurate. The reason for this is that the gospels claim extraordinary things. As such, they require extraordinary proof, beyond the mere assertion of the half-a-dozen-or-so writers traditionally assigned to the New Testament, and beyond the fervent embrace of a pre-medieval religious group. Any parallel aggregation of wonder-working stories and speculative theology would not command acceptance based simply upon “the normal rules of evidence.” Elsewise audiences should become followers of the Sufi sheikh Asrar Al-Towhid Fi Maqamat Al-Seyk Abi Said, or perhaps the Hasidic rebbe Baal Shem Tov.
Extraordinary proof, of course, will only be stipulated by non-believers as a prerequisite to embracing the claims of the New Testament. Believers, on the other hand, would naturally demand extraordinary proof to dislodge them from their faith.
Thank you for your posting, Steve. I look forward to your comments on treatment of the gospel of John, as you have opportunity.
Shalom,
Emmet