4. Is the NT True? Archives | CrossExamined.org - Christian Apologetics Resources

The Gospel according to John has received more scrutiny than the other Gospels put together. Case in point, dating back to the 1920s, critical scholars have argued that the apostle John could not have written the Gospel. Rather, they’ve suggested a whole slew of other possibilities (anonymous, John the Elder, Lazarus, John Mark, the rich young ruler, etc.) But is there any evidence to back up their contentions? Should we reject the traditional position which the church has subscribed to for almost two thousand years?

In this post, I will argue that John the son of Zebedee penned the fourth Gospel. I will make my case in three steps: First, I will examine the external evidence. Second, I will examine the internal evidence. And third, I will refute the common objections.

External Evidence for John’s Authorship

Writing around AD 180, Irenaeus of Lyons wrote, “John, the disciple of the Lord, who also had leaned upon His breast, did himself publish a Gospel during his residence at Ephesus in Asia.”¹ In other words, Irenaeus declares that John wrote the fourth Gospel while living in Ephesus. And this John should be identified with the disciple whom Jesus loved and reclined on Jesus’ breast in John 13:23.

How would Irenaeus be privy to such information? He claims to be a spiritual grandson of John himself! Pay careful attention to how Irenaeus reminisces about his childhood experiences.

I remember the events of those days more clearly than those which have happened recently, . . . so I can speak even of the place in which the blessed Polycarp sat and disputed, how he came in and went out, the character of his life, the appearance of his body, the discourse which he made to the people, how he reported his converse with John and with the others who had seen the Lord, how he remembered their words, and what were the things concerning the Lord which he had heard from them, including his miracles and his teaching, and how Polycarp had received them from the eyewitnesses of the word of life, and reported all things in agreement with the Scriptures.²

Notice that Irenaeus claims to have been taught by Polycarp who was taught by John. That is to say, Irenaeus was in a position to know if John was the author of the fourth Gospel.

Other church fathers also affirm John’s authorship. Clement of Alexandria—also writing around AD 180—stated, “But that John, last of all, conscious that the outward facts had been set forth in the Gospels, was urged on by his disciples, and, divinely moved by the Spirit, composed a spiritual Gospel.”³

The Muratorian Fragment—a late second-century document—states plainly, “The fourth of the Gospels is that of John, [one] of the disciples.”

And finally, writing a couple of decades later, Tertullian reports, “Of the apostles, therefore, John and Matthew first instill faith into us; whilst of apostolic men, Luke and Mark renew it afterwards.” ⁴

On top of all this, every titled manuscript of the Gospel lists John as its author. In short, the early church affirmed that John wrote the fourth Gospel.

Internal Evidence for John’s Authorship

John 21:24 reports, “This is the disciple who is bearing witness about these things, and who has written these things, and we know that his testimony is true.” Which disciple is this? Verse 20 tell us. “Peter turned and saw the disciple whom Jesus loved following them, the one who also had leaned back against him during the supper.” In other words, the disciple whom Jesus loved and leaned on Jesus’ breast (John 13:23) wrote this Gospel.

But who is this mysterious disciple whom Jesus loved? He was certainly one of the twelve at the Last Supper (John 13:23). The synoptics make clear that only the apostles joined Jesus for this meal. Moreover, the disciple whom Jesus loved is repeatedly distinguished from Peter (John 13:23-24; 20:2-9; 21:20). Finally, he is one of the seven disciples who went fishing in chapter 21:2. That said, he cannot be Peter, Thomas, or Nathanael. He is, therefore, either one of the sons of Zebedee or one of the other two unnamed disciples that were present at the Sea of Galilee in John 21. It must be said, however, that James the son of Zebedee died in the early 40s, which rules him out as a potential author.

An additional note worth mentioning is that John is never mentioned by name in the Gospel. His absence would be extremely odd if someone else wrote this Gospel. After all, the Gospel mentions other prominent characters like Peter and Andrew and even less familiar characters like Philip and Judas (not Iscariot). Moreover, while the synoptic Gospels all refer to the forerunner of Jesus’ ministry as John the Baptist (it was necessary to distinguish him from the other prominent John), this Gospel only refers to him as John. In other words, the author did not feel it necessary to distinguish that John from himself.

Finally, John and Peter are repeatedly shown as close companions in the synoptic Gospels, Acts, and Galatians (Mark 5:37; 14:33; Acts 3:1-4:23; Gal. 2:9). Similarly, the fourth Gospel puts Peter and the disciple whom Jesus loved together frequently (13:23-24; 20:2-10; 21:20-23).

The most plausible explanation for this data is that John is the disciple whom Jesus loved, and therefore, the author of the fourth Gospel.

Answering Objections

One of the more frequently cited reasons for rejecting Johannine authorship is the self-description “the one whom Jesus loved.” In other words, John seems rather full of himself to give himself this title. This objection, however, should not deter us from accepting traditional authorship. After all, what Christian doesn’t affirm that God loves them? There is nothing boastful about making this claim. On the contrary, its the mark of humble gratitude. As Carson and Moo assert, it “is scarcely the mark of arrogance; it is rather the mark of brokenness.”⁵ Paul, for example, declares that Christ “loved me and gave himself for me” (Gal. 2:20). Nothing arrogant about that. Just plain awe and gratitude.

Another frequent objection to the tradition view is that the early church thought a different John wrote the Gospel. This objection stems from a quotation from Papias who mentions a particular “elder John” in addition to the “apostle John.” However, as Carson and Moo point out, the Greek syntax Papias uses, namely the anaphoric use of the article for the second John, strongly suggests that “elder John” and “apostle John” are really the same person.⁶ Also noteworthy is that Peter calls himself an “elder” in 1 Peter 5:1. In other words, the apostles also understood themselves as elders in the early church. Both 2 and 3 John are said to be by “the elder,” and Papias may simply be echoing that language.

A third objection is that an uneducated Galilean fisherman never could have penned this Greek Gospel. This objection fails on multiple fronts as well. First, while Acts 4:13 states that Peter and John were “uneducated,” that description does not imply that they were illiterate. “Uneducated” simply means that they hadn’t been officially trained in Jewish Rabbinical schools—not unlike Jesus (John 7:15). In fact, most Jewish boys received an education so that they could read the Scriptures. Moreover, John came from wealth (his father owned a large fishing business—Luke 5:3,10; Mark 1:20). Therefore, he most likely received an excellent education.

Recent studies also suggest that Palestinian Jews were often able to speak both Aramaic and Greek.⁷ With the discovery of Greek coins, Judean-Greek documents, Greek names on burial inscriptions, and even a Greek-speaking synagogue, it’s not unreasonable to think John wrote this Gospel. These pieces of evidence don’t even take into account that John had several decades in Greek-speaking Ephesus to brush up on his Greek before writing his Gospel.

The Gospel According to John

Based on the external and internal evidence, John the son of Zebedee is the author of the fourth Gospel. While the objections cannot be ignored, none of them undermine the evidence in favor of traditional authorship.

Why Don’t the Synoptic Gospels Mention Lazarus?

4. Is the NT True?, Theology and Christian Apologetics

By Ryan Leasure

Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead is one of the most well-known stories in the Gospels. Yet, for some reason, Matthew, Mark, and Luke don’t mention it. This head-scratching absence has raised a lot of doubts about its historicity. After all, this story seems too significant to leave out. As you can imagine, skeptics think John made it up. But could there be a good reason that the earlier Gospels left it out?

While it does seem strange that the synoptic writers would leave out this story, I believe we have a good explanation for its absence in what Gerd Theissen calls “protective anonymity.”[1]

Pre-Markan Tradition

Protective anonymity is based on the premise that a pre-Markan tradition stands behind the passion narrative in Mark 14-16. In other words, while Mark composed much of his Gospel based on Peter’s eyewitness testimony, the last few chapters came from another source that dates much closer to the time of Jesus’ death and resurrection. While biblical scholars are somewhat divided on this issue, the evidence tilts in favor of this pre-Markan source.

For example, scholars have long noted that Mark didn’t arrange the pericopes (e.g., miracles, parables, proclamations, narratives, exorcisms, etc.) chronologically. Rather, he ordered them in ways that suited his purposes. In fact, Matthew and Luke’s orders often diverge from Mark’s. Meaning, Mark could have easily rearranged the stories in a different order without impacting the overall message. However, when one gets to the passion narrative, the entire account presupposes a chronological order. Instead of one short story after another, the entire passion account (ch. 14-16, possibly ch. 11-16) flows like one continuous narrative. Certainly, Mark could have composed these last few chapters himself. But a few features from the text suggest that it was composed earlier and in Jerusalem.

One reason for adopting this view is that Mark mentions “the high priest” but never mentions him by name (Caiaphas). This phrasing would be akin to saying “the president” instead of President Biden. If I had a conversation with someone today and mentioned “the president,” no one would think I was talking about Trump, Obama, Bush, or any other previous president. They would assume I was talking about our current president. The same could be said for Caiaphas. Since he ruled till AD 37, the passion narrative that merely refers to him as “the high priest” must have been in circulation before his tenure ended.

Another reason for thinking that the passion account is early and from Jerusalem is the mention of “James the younger” in Mark 15:40. Theissen argues, “It would have been particularly necessary in Jerusalem to distinguish a ‘James the younger’ (or ‘the less’) from the ‘older’ (or ‘greater’).”[2] He suggests that “James the younger” was the brother of Jesus, and “James the older” was the Son of Zebedee. If Theissen is right, then the need to distinguish the two James would have been necessary in Jerusalem where “James the younger” was overseer of the church. Furthermore, the need to distinguish the two James would only be necessary until AD 44 when “James the older” died.

One more reason for thinking the passion narrative is a pre-Markan tradition is the mention of “the insurrection” in which Barabbas was involved (Mark 15:7). Jews, however, were familiar with a significant uprising led by Theudas in AD 44-45 (Acts 5:36).[3] One would think that if Mark wrote this passion account in the 50s or 60s, he would have been careful to distinguish which uprising Barabbas participated in. The mere mention of “the insurrection” suggests that this narrative pre-dates the insurrection led by Theudas in AD 44-45.

Protective Anonymity

With the pre-Markan tradition established, we are now in a position to answer the question of why Lazarus is never mentioned. Theissen argues that people are left anonymous or unmentioned because if their names got back to the Jerusalem authorities, they could be implicated as accomplices in Jesus’ “revolt.”

Consider the person who cut off the ear of the high priest’s servant in Mark 14:47. Mark never mentions him by name. He simply notes that “one of those who stood by drew his sword and struck the servant of the high priest and cut off his ear.” Mark doesn’t even make it clear if this is one of Jesus’ disciples. It’s not until John’s Gospel—written around AD 90—that we discover that the identity of this sword-wielding character is none other than Peter himself. John no longer feels the need to protect Peter’s identity because he was long dead by now. Since Peter most likely would have faced arrest for this attempted murder on the high priest’s servant, this early pre-Markan tradition kept him anonymous.

Another case of protective anonymity is the woman who anointed Jesus in Mark 14:3-9. Her actions would undoubtedly make her an accomplice in Jesus’ messianic “revolt.” Bauckham remarks,

At the time when this tradition took shape in this form in the early Jerusalem church, this woman would have been in danger were she identified as having been complicit in Jesus’ political subversive claim to messianic kingship. Her danger was perhaps even greater than that of the man who attacked the servant of the high priest, for it was she who had anointed Jesus as Messiah.[4]

It’s worth noting that Judas immediately betrayed Jesus to the authorities following the anointing. Once again, it’s John who reveals the identity of this woman as Mary, the sister of Martha and Lazarus, when she no longer needed protective anonymity.

Lazarus

If we are right to believe that the pre-Markan passion narrative intentionally kept people anonymous for their protection, we could understand how it would leave Lazarus out of the story altogether. After all, John 12:10-11 notes that “the chief priests made plans to put Lazarus to death as well, because on account of him many of the Jews were going away and believing in Jesus.” That is to say, Lazarus was a thorn in the side of the Jewish leaders because he was convincing Jews to become Christians by simply walking around. Because Jewish leaders continued to persecute the early church for decades, this early passion narrative had to leave him out of the story altogether for his own protection.

However, some have argued that perhaps Lazarus does sneak into Mark’s passion narrative after all. During Jesus’ arrest, we read, “And a young man followed him, with nothing but a linen cloth about his body. And they seized him, but he left the linen cloth and ran away naked” (Mark 14:51-52). Without sounding too immature, I laugh every time I read about this anonymous streaker. Yet, this account is more significant than it may appear. With all the commotion going on (Peter had just whacked off someone’s ear), none of the disciples probably observed this scene. They had already “left him and fled” (Mark 14:50). Therefore, this story must go back to the eyewitness testimony of the streaker himself.

Again, his anonymity was necessary for his protection. After all, the only reason he must have fled naked is because he resisted the guards. Once they grabbed him, he was able to slip away, leaving his linen cloth behind. Undoubtedly, the Jewish leaders would have been looking to arrest this man who fought against them.

So who was this man? Some have argued that it was Lazarus. Wanting to still acknowledge Lazarus’ importance, this early account allows him this brief and very comical appearance. Others have argued that this person is John Mark himself. Like Alfred Hitchcock appearing in one of his own films or an artist painting himself into his picture, Mark inserted himself into the narrative. I don’t think we can know for sure. Although I kind of hope it’s Mark. That just makes for a better story.

[1] Gerd Theissen, The Gospels in Context.

[2] Gerd Theissen, The Gospels in Context, 178.

[3] Josephus, Antiquities, 20.97-98.

[4] Richard Bauckham, Jesus, and the Eyewitnesses, 2^nd ed. 290.

Simon of Cyrene, Cleopas, and the Eyewitness Testimony of the Gospels

4. Is the NT True?, Theology and Christian Apologetics

By Ryan Leasure

Modern critics doubt that eyewitnesses stand behind the four Gospels. In fact, they argue that the first followers of Jesus told others about Jesus who told others about Jesus who told others about Jesus, and eventually someone wrote all those stories down—much like the game of telephone. According to this theory, anonymous figures wrote the Gospels in places like Turkey, Greece, and Rome.

Biblical scholar Richard Bauckham begs to differ. One of the more brilliant ways Bauckham pushed back against the form criticism of the early twentieth century was to highlight that the names in the Gospels correspond to the names in the broader Palestinian record. In other words, one would expect a slew of unrealistic Palestinian names (like Marcus or Gaius) if someone was merely writing hearsay from across the Roman Empire. This point is especially true when one considers that the Jewish names across the Empire were radically different from the Palestinian Jewish names. The fact that the Gospels give realistic names suggests that the accounts can be traced back to Palestine itself.

But Bauckham also looks at the names from a different angle to provide further support for eyewitness testimony. He argues that the presence of certain names seems highly unusual unless they were the eyewitness sources behind their stories.

Anonymous by Default

Most of the people in the Gospels are anonymous. Besides the disciples, government officials, and a few key figures, just about everyone else remains anonymous. Allow me to give you some samples from Luke:

Luke 5:12 — “While he was in one of the cities, there came a man full of leprosy.”
Luke 6:6 — “On another Sabbath, he entered the synagogue and was teaching, and a man was there whose right hand was withered.”
Luke 7:2 — “Now a centurion had a servant who was sick and at the point of death, who was highly valued by him.”
Luke 8:43 — “And there was a woman who had had a discharge of blood for twelve years, and though she had spent all her living on physicians, she could not be healed by anyone.”
Luke 10:25 — “And behold, a lawyer stood up to put him to the test, saying, ‘Teacher, what shall I do to inherit eternal life?’”
Luke 13:14 — “But the ruler of the synagogue, indignant because Jesus had healed on the Sabbath, said to the people, ‘There are six days in which work ought to be done. Come on those days and be healed, and not on the Sabbath day.’”

I could list more. By my count fifty-one anonymous characters appear in Luke. This does not count large groups such as the five thousand or the seventy-two. Nor does this list include generic statements where Jesus heals “many” or interacts with a crowd.

Since obscure characters are usually anonymous, we should take notice when one of them gets mentioned.

Simon of Cyrene

Mark mentions three obscure figures in Mark 15:21. He notes, “And they compelled a passerby, Simon of Cyrene, who was coming in from the country, the father of Alexander and Rufus, to carry his cross.” It’s noteworthy that none of these three figures show up anywhere else in the narrative. Moreover, while Matthew and Luke also mention Simon of Cyrene, they leave out his two sons. What best explains this phenomena?

Church tradition suggests that Mark’s Gospel is more or less Peter’s account of things. Yet, Peter wasn’t in all places at all times. In fact, he drops out of the narrative in the previous chapter. He’s presumably in hiding after Jesus’ arrest. So how would Peter or Mark know that Simon carried Jesus’ cross? Who’s testimony stands behind this story?

It most certainly has to be Simon of Cyrene. Furthermore, the mention of his two sons Alexander and Rufus suggests that Mark expected his readers to know who they were. In fact, if Mark wrote his Gospel in Rome (as tradition suggests), it’s reasonable to believe that the church heard this story from Alexander and Rufus themselves. Think about it. Alexander and Rufus must have heard the story dozens of times from their dad. And now as they relayed this same story to the church in Rome, imagine how proud they must have felt. That’s our dad! He carried Jesus’ cross! Since neither Matthew nor Luke mention these two sons, we can assume that their audiences (places other than Rome) would not have been familiar with them.

Cleopas

After his resurrection from the dead, Jesus appears to two individuals on the road to Emmaus — Cleopas and an anonymous figure. Why mention Cleopas and not the other? The story obviously does not require him to be named.

The most reasonable explanation is that Cleopas must be the source for this specific account. Again, none of the disciples were present. Luke himself was not present. But as Luke mentioned in his prologue, he spoke with different eyewitnesses before compiling his Gospel account (Luke 1:1-3). Cleopas was one such eyewitness.

Also worth noting is that Cleopas was probably Jesus’ uncle. Elsewhere, John reports, “but standing by the cross of Jesus were his mother and his mother’s sister, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene” (John 19:25). While the spelling is different in John, Bauckham argues that “Clopas is a very rare Semitic form of the Greek name Cleopas, so rare that we can be certain this is the Clopas who, according to Hegesippus, was the brother of Jesus’ father Joseph.”[1]

Writing in the early fourth century, church historian Eusebius references Hegesippus’ quote on Clopas. He writes:

After the martyrdom of James and the conquest of Jerusalem which immediately followed, it is said that those of the apostles and disciples of the Lord that were still living came together from all directions with those that were related to the Lord according to the flesh (for the majority of them also were still alive) to take counsel as to who was worthy to succeed James. They all with one consent pronounced Symeon, the son of Clopas, of whom the Gospel also makes mention; to be worthy of the episcopal throne of that parish. He was a cousin, as they say, of the Saviour. For Hegesippus records that Clopas was a brother of Joseph.[2]

According to church tradition, Clopas’ son, Symeon, the cousin of Jesus and James, became the overseer of the church in Jerusalem after James’ martyrdom in AD 62. Thus, we can see why Clopas’ testimony might carry some significant weight in the early church. He was the uncle of Jesus, and his son was a prominent leader in the Jerusalem church.

Names and Eyewitnesses

A few other names also fit this same description (Jairus, Bartimaeus, and Zacchaeus to name a few). By looking at the general pattern in the Gospels, these obscure figures should have remained anonymous. Therefore, their names seem rather significant. I believe Bauckham is correct when he suggests “that many of these named characters were eyewitnesses who not only originated the traditions to which their names are attached but also continued to tell these stories as authoritative guarantors of their traditions.”[3]

Notes

[1] Richard Bauckham, Jesus, and the Eyewitnesses, 47.

[2] Eusebius, Hist. Eccl. 3.11.

[3] Richard Bauckham, Jesus, and the Eyewitnesses, 39.

Is the Bible Our Highest Authority?

4. Is the NT True?, Theology and Christian Apologetics

By David Pallmann

Many Christians believe that it is wrong to offer unbelievers evidence for the truth of Christianity.[1] They argue that the traditional method of apologetics dishonors Scripture by not giving it the respect it is due. The concern is that offering evidence for the truth of Scripture gives evidence more weight than Scripture. The argument might be framed this way:

If some activity requires us to treat something as a higher authority than Scripture, as Christians, we should not do it.
Giving evidence for the truth of Scripture requires us to treat evidence as a higher authority than Scripture.
Therefore, as Christians, we should not give evidence for the truth of Scripture.

Michael Krueger expresses the basic sentiment when he says,

“If the method of argumentation communicates to the unbeliever that he should believe the Bible only because it has received the stamp of approval from science, archaeology, and historical criticism, those disciplines, not the Bible, will be his ultimate authority.”[2]

In this article, I hope to show that the traditional apologist can answer this type of argument in a two-fold fashion. Once we clearly understand what it means to say that Scripture is one’s highest authority, it will become clear that this belief is not in conflict with presenting evidence for the truth of Scripture. In short, traditional, evidence-based, apologetics is harmonious with the affirmation that Scripture is the Christian’s highest authority.

Two Types of Authority

It will be helpful to begin by distinguishing between two types of authority. The Polish philosopher Józef Maria Bocheński made an important distinction between deontic authority and epistemic authority.[3] A deontic authority is roughly an authority which is able to tell you how you should act. Examples would include your boss or a police officer. These are individuals who can, to some extent, tell you what to do.

An epistemic authority is quite different. Epistemic authorities can tell you what you should believe. Examples would include a scholar, a doctor, or some other sort of expert. These are knowledgeable individuals who can be appropriately called “authorities” in their respective fields.

The key distinction between a deontic authority and an epistemic authority lies in the domains over which they exert their authority. Deontic authorities tell you how to behave. Epistemic authorities tell you what to believe.

Applying the Distinction

Armed with an understanding of these two types of authority, let’s explicate what it means to say that Scripture is our highest authority. It seems quite evident that this typically refers to Scripture as a deontic authority. To say that Scripture is one’s highest authority is, in essence, to say that one ought to obey God rather than men (Acts 5:29). Scripture will dictate a Christian’s behavior even when Scripture conflicts with another authority (e.g the government).

Thus construed, it becomes evident that the original argument is guilty of equivocation. Premise 1 refers to deontic authority while premise 2 refers to epistemic authority. As such, under a deontic understanding of Scripture as one’s highest authority, the conclusion of the argument simply doesn’t follow.

Scripture as an Epistemic Authority

Although on a deontic conception of Scriptural authority, the argument is flawed, there is one complication. Scripture does not merely tell us how to act, but it also tells us what to believe. Thus, while it is true that Scripture is a deontic authority, it also appears to function as an epistemic authority. Should we regard Scripture as our highest epistemic authority as well?

To answer this question, we need a clearer understanding of the role that epistemic authorities play in the formation of justified beliefs. In the first place, we need to observe that beliefs which are held on the basis of epistemic authorities inherently have weaker justification than beliefs held on the basis of evidence. This is because, when information is gained via authority, there is a further link in the chain between the believer and the truth of the belief. When one believes a proposition on the basis of evidence, then his connection to the truth of the belief is much stronger. When one relies on an epistemic authority, they are trusting the authority to accurately relay his own beliefs which (hopefully!) are based on a body of evidence to which the believer does not have direct access. The indirectness of the belief allows more opportunities for mistakes to be made. So whenever a belief is held on the basis of an authority, it necessarily has a lower probability of being true than a belief based directly on evidence. The upshot here is that epistemic authorities are not valuable because of anything intrinsic to that authority. They are valuable because they are a means of connecting us with truth. Epistemic authorities are only useful insofar as they achieve that goal. As Richard Feldmen observes,

“Inferential rules aren’t good ones simply because experts use them. Rather, experts are good guides to good rules simply because they have the best insight into the matter.”[4]

Now, none of that is meant to disparage the importance and value of epistemic authorities. Clearly, we cannot become acquainted with all the relevant evidence for every possible belief. Epistemic authorities, therefore, provide us with a convenient way of gaining knowledge about something without examining it in detail. The cost of that convenience, however, is that one incurs a greater risk that their acquired belief is not true.

To minimize this risk, it is crucial that we have good reasons for regarding an authority as reliable. If there were no way for recognizing an authority as reliable then we would either have to blindly follow anything that claimed to be an authority, make an arbitrary selection about which authorities to believe, or else reject epistemic authorities altogether. As John DePoe notes,

“Authorities play a valuable epistemic role because they are avenues for justified beliefs and knowledge that are inaccessible to us without them, or they make the procurement of such epistemic good more convenient. … Importantly, however, for me to embrace [an] authority justifiably, I must have good reasons to trust the source as an authority in the domains where I regard it as an authority.”[5]

So it is not possible, in principle, to have a highest epistemic authority if this is meant to be understood as an authority being one’s primary source of knowledge. A subject must always choose to believe what an authority says. And to make an informed decision about which authorities to believe, one needs access to independent evidence.

Highest Epistemic Authority

As the above discussion makes clear, evidence has primacy when it comes to justification. There is no highest epistemic authority comparable to a highest deontic authority. It is by means of evidence that we adjudicate between various epistemic authorities and determine which one’s are to be trusted. This is not to deny that there can be a highest epistemic authority from among a range of authorities. For example, suppose I have a medical condition which two doctors wish to diagnose. One doctor has only examined my condition superficially while the other has examined me thoroughly. Both doctors are authorities, but the one who has examined me thoroughly is the higher authority, and, as such his diagnosis will be taken more seriously. In this situation, I could be said to have a highest epistemic authority. However, notice that the word “highest” is being used in a comparative and contextual sense. I regard one authority as highest from among other authorities with respect to a specific topic. In the same way, the Christian can make Scripture his highest authority from among other authorities (pastors, theologians, etc.) with respect to the nature, will, character, and revelation of God. Thus, there is a sense in which Scripture can be considered a highest epistemic authority when this is meant to be understood as an authority among others which is given the most epistemic weight.

But since evidence is required to adjudicate between competing authority claims, it retains an epistemic priority over any authority. Notice, however, that this entails that evidence is not itself an authority. Thus, under this conception of evidence and authority, the second premise of the original argument is false. It confuses justification with authority. While authorities can play a justificatory role, not all justification comes in the form of authorities. If it did, we would be without justification for trusting any purported authority as such.

A Final Consideration

It seems to me that Christians who use this sort of argument mean something rather different by “highest authority” than I specified above. They don’t mean that Scripture is merely their highest epistemic authority from among a range of authorities about some particular subject. They appear to mean that Scripture should actually be our primary source of knowledge. To make belief in Scripture conditional upon sufficient evidence does indeed admit that Scripture is not one’s primary source of knowledge.

But I don’t see why this should be a concern for the traditional apologist. Having faith in an authority on the basis of evidence does not compromise that authority’s status nor does it somehow make evidence a “higher authority” in any meaningful sense. It is simply to acknowledge that one needs justification for believing that an authority is authoritative. Perhaps some will find this objectionable. But what is the alternative? To believe on the basis of nothing? This is epistemic irresponsibility. Moreover, it seems impossible. For surely before one can believe the teachings of Scripture, one must become acquainted with them through either hearing or reading Scripture. This shows that Scripture cannot be one’s primary source of knowledge.

If the critic still wishes to maintain that the traditional apologist is making evidence a higher authority than Scripture, then we may simply respond that he has equated “highest authority” with “primary source of knowledge.” This is a definition of “authority” that the traditional apologist is entitled to reject. If the critic still wishes to retain this definition of the word, then it is evident, I think, that he is deliberately defining words in such a way that he can accuse those who dispute his conclusions of lowering the status of Scripture. In this case, he is deliberately muddying the waters. Under the critic’s definition, the traditional apologist need feel no discomfort for not making Scripture his “highest authority.” The critic is now using this term to get the traditional apologist to say something which the traditional apologist never believed.

Summary and Conclusion

In this article, I have briefly outlined an objection to traditional apologetics which states that the traditional method turns evidence into a higher authority than Scripture. We have seen that the traditional apologist may give a two-fold response. First, he may respond by stating that he takes Scripture to be his highest deontic authority, but not necessarily his highest epistemic authority. If the critic replies by pointing out that Scripture is also an epistemic authority, the traditional apologist may reply by saying that epistemic authorities are limited in scope to specific topics. Thus, while he may well regard Scripture as his highest epistemic authority with respect to truths about God, he need not regard it as his highest epistemic authority with respect to the belief that Scripture yields accurate information about God. Moreover, he may argue that evidence does not function as an epistemic authority but rather functions as a means of recognizing an authority as such. Obviously, if evidence is not a type of authority, then it cannot be a higher authority than Scripture.

I conclude, therefore, that once we have clarified what is meant by “the authority of Scripture,” arguments such as that offered in the introduction either equivocate, are insensitive to the nature of epistemic authorities, or else mistake all justification for being a type of authority. In each case, the argument fails to establish its conclusion. Hence, the traditional apologist may confidently present evidence for the truth of Scripture without thereby sacrificing the authority of Scripture.

Notes:

[1] In particular I have presuppositionalists in mind. However, similar arguments can be found among critics of apologetics more generally. Such arguments are, by no means, limited to presuppositionalists.

[2] Michael J. Krueger, “The Sufficiency of Scripture in Apologetics,” TMSJ 12/1 (Spring 2001) Pg. 69-87

[3] J. M. Bocheński, The Logic of Religion, New York: New York University Press, 1965, Pg. 164-167

[4] Richard Feldman, “Authoritarian Epistemology,” in Earl Conee and Richard Feldman, Evidentialism, New York, NY: Oxford University Press, 2004, Pg. 127

[5] John M. DePoe, “A Classical Evidentialist Response to Covenantal Epistemology,” in Debating Christian Religious Epistemology, New York, NY: Bloomsbury, 2020, Pg. 167-168

6 Reasons Why Peter Is The Source Of Mark’s Gospel

4. Is the NT True?, Theology and Christian Apologetics

By Erik Manning

Many of the early church fathers say that Mark’s Gospel is based on Peter’s preaching. If that’s the case, it’s understandable why an apostle like Matthew or someone like Luke would use Mark as a source. You can’t get much closer to the life of Jesus than through the eyes of Peter.

We’ve looked at what the early church fathers had to say about Mark before. However, skeptics like Bart Ehrman say that this whole idea that Mark based his Gospel on Peter’s preaching stems from Papias, and Papias doesn’t know what he’s talking about.

OK, so now what?

While I don’t think that argument works, what if I said there was a way to bypass this objection? Are there any internal clues in Mark’s Gospel that point to Peter being the source?

In this video, I look at six internal evidences that demonstrate that Peter is Mark’s main source.

BIBLE STUDY: WAS THE RESURRECTION BODY OF JESUS SPIRITUAL OR PHYSICAL?

4. Is the NT True?, Apologetics for Parents, Jesus Christ, Theology and Christian Apologetics

By Wintery Knight

So, everyone from left to right accepts the early creed in 1 Corinthians 15:3-7 being dated to 1-3 years after the death of Jesus, even atheists like Crossley, Ludemann, and Crossan. The thing is, some people are not sure that the appearances of Jesus to individuals, groups, and skeptics really were physical appearances. They say, “well, Paul’s appearance was non-physical, so the other ones must have been, too.”

Let’s take a look.

Here’s a paragraph from my friend Eric Chabot, from his blog Think Apologetics. He explains why Paul’s use of the word “resurrection” to describe what the other witnesses saw means bodily resurrection.

He writes:

If Paul did have a vision, then the term “vision” is vague and must be defined. As Licona points out, visions are either objective (i.e., something that is seen without the use of our natural senses) or subjective (i.e., a product of our minds). The real problem is with the vision hypothesis is that it doesn’t explain Paul’s use of resurrection to explain what had happened to Jesus. The two words are used for resurrection in the New Testament “anastasis” (rising up) and “egersis” (waking up), both imply a physical body. Furthermore, the use of the word “opethe” (the Greek word for appeared) shows the Gospel writers did believe that Jesus appeared physically. “There you will see (opethe) him” (Matt. 28:7); “The Lord has risen and has appeared (opethe) to Simon” (Luke 24:24). When they used “opethe” here, it means that He appeared physically to them.

So when Paul gives his list of appearances in 1 Cor. 15, the issues become whether the appearance to him is the same as it was to the disciples. There is no doubt the post-resurrection body of Jesus (after the ascension) had to be somewhat different than the body the disciples saw. Also, whenever the New Testament mentions the word body, in the context of referring to an individual human being, the Greek word “soma” always refers to a literal, physical body. Greek specialist Robert Gundry says “the consistent and exclusive use of soma for the physical body in anthropological contexts resists dematerialization of the resurrection, whether by idealism or by existentialism.” [9] Furthermore, in N.T. Wright’s The Resurrection of the Son of God shows that the Greek word for the resurrection which is “anastasis” was used by ancient Jews, pagans, and Christians as bodily in nature.

Now, I think my view on this, and I’m not sure if Eric would correct me, is that Paul got an objective but the non-physical vision of Jesus. There was something there that everyone else could see and hear, in my view. But in my view, Paul’s “veridical” vision was post-ascension and so non-physical. Paul uses the word resurrection to describe what the other eyewitnesses saw (and he met them at least twice, according to Gal 1 and Gal 2), and that means physical resurrected body.

Eric Chabot writes this in another place:

Now, I said before in 1 Corinthians 15, Paul could have chosen to only use the word pneuma. He doesn’t. He does say “spiritual,” but he’s got an adjective there. He also says, soma, “body.” What did Paul mean?

Philippians Chapter 3. It’s a short chapter. There are 21 verses, but Paul says three things in one chapter that indicate he’s talking about a physical resurrection. In the opening verses he says, “I was a Hebrew of the Hebrews” and “as touching the law,” he says, “I was a Pharisee.” Now, it’s very well known that the Pharisee believed in a bodily resurrection. In fact, according to Acts 23, as Paul was being taken captive by the Romans to prevent his being killed, he shouted out to the group of people and said, “Why are you taking me? Because I believe in the resurrection of the dead?” He meant a literal resurrection.

When the Pharisees heard that, they said there’s nothing wrong with this guy. But the Sadducees [who didn’t believe in the Resurrection] didn’t like it. So as a Pharisee, he’s agreeing with the Pharisees.

So, the first evidence is from Philippians 3. As a Pharisee, Paul believes in a physical resurrection.

Secondly, in verse 11 he says, “That I may attain the resurrection of the dead.” Now, the normal Greek word for resurrection is anastasis, but in this passage, Philippians 3:11, he puts a prefix on there, ek anastasis. Ekanastasis, according to all Greek scholars that I know of, is translated in this passage: “The out resurrection from among the dead.” Paul said, “I want to attain the out resurrection.”

Now, to a Jew, “out resurrection” means “what goes down is what comes up.” You come out from death. And then just a few verses later, Philippians 3:20,21, he said, “From Heaven, we look for Jesus who will change our vile soma (body) to be like unto His glorious soma (or body),” when he should have said pneuma, according to this other view.

So he’s a Pharisee who believes in a physical resurrection. Ek anastasis—“resurrection from out among the dead ones.”

Thirdly, Paul says, “He Jesus will change my body to be like His body.”

So right there in Philippians 3 alone, I think the picture of Jesus being some wispy spirit that appeared to him on the road to Damascus doesn’t fit Paul’s own data.

Yes, that’s why Philippians is my favorite book. You can get so much useful theology out of it. Something about the resurrection in Phil 3, something about Jesus’ divinity in Phil 2, and loads of practical advice on stewardship, charity, fellowship, endurance and practical love for others throughout. Some of it takes a little digging, but that’s what commentaries are for, am I right? But I digress.

If you want to read something a little more challenging, I found a paper from the Evangelical Theological Society (ETS) from their journal, where it talks more about soma and anastasis. If you want a bit of a challenge, download the PDF and read it. It’s by Kirk R. MacGregor, and the title is “1 Corinthians 15:3B–6A, 7 And The Bodily Resurrection Of Jesus.”

Matthew: Jesus’ Genealogy and Biblical Inerrancy

4. Is the NT True?, Jesus Christ

By John A. Limanto

The first genealogy within the Gospel of Matthew is an important cornerstone of the Gospel. This genealogy—a relic of the pre-Jewish-Roman War—contains, at the very heart of it, a Jewish tapestry that may only be deciphered by a thoroughly Jewish mind. In interpreting the genealogy, we find that it is indeed the pinnacle of the Jewish message of the Gospel. Containing within it is the stupendous claim that Jesus of Nazareth—the carpenter and the Son of Mary—is in the line of King David and is worthy of the Throne of Israel. Lingering deep within this chapter is the Messianic priority that has been reserved for the Jews. As the words of St. Paul proclaim, “for it is the power of God for salvation to everyone who believes, to the Jew first and also to the Greek.”[1]

However, far from being considered as a scrupulously precise report, Matthew’s genealogy has been widely regarded as incomplete. The differences that it bears with its Lukan counterpart along with the omissions of the names of several kings are demonstrably palpable. At surface value, these details may indeed impugn Matthew as a reliable source. Furthermore, the supposed symmetrical structure of the genealogy that Matthew posited seems to contain asymmetrical number of persons. This issue is critical especially when it is put in relation to the traditional doctrine of Biblical inerrancy—which is the doctrine that requires for there to be no error within the Scripture. How can this be accomplished when even the first genealogy in Matthew contains such follies? Have Matthew really crossed the unpardonable line of errancy?

Within this essay, I would like to present a case in support of the inerrancy for the Gospel of Matthew in light of the supposed problems found within Matthew’s genealogy. I believe that when we look at the case fairly—examining the evidences to their roots—we will begin to see how the first genealogy is not just inerrant, but has effectively accomplished its designed purpose. I will begin by providing some context to the Gospel of Matthew before moving on to the structure of the genealogy, the alleged “problems” before finally ending in my reconciliation between Biblical inerrancy and the Matthean genealogy

Context Regarding the Gospel of Matthew and the Genealogy

The Gospel of Matthew was likely written around the late AD 60’s.[2] Although this has placed the Gospel at a later date in comparison with Mark, it is likely that the information in the gospel has been gathered from the Gospel of Mark itself.[3] However, as the Gospel of Mark itself does not contain the names in the genealogy, Matthew must have had garnered the names from both the Old Testament and the extrabiblical sources found in Temple of Jerusalem prior to its destruction in AD 70[4]Thus, Matthew bears witness to names of kings that are not found anywhere else in the surviving Jewish Literature. R.T France wisely remarks, “While most of the names between Zerubbabel and Joseph conform to familiar Jewish types of name, there is no reason to link any of the individuals listed with anyone who is known to us from other sources.”[5]

One of the interesting things about genealogy is its etymology. The word used in Matthew (translated in the NIV as: “genealogy”) is the Greek word γένεσις (“genesis”). This alludes to the creation of the world; the coming of Jesus was supposed to mark a new creation—a new beginning. Moreover, Genealogies are particularly important within the Jewish tradition. It is said that out of genealogies, disputes were settled regarding properties and extensive genealogies were scrupulously preserved as records of the family.[6] Thus, it is very unlikely for Matthew, as a Jew himself, to contrive the names of the descendants of Jesus. As Matthew himself was writing very early after the death of Jesus, any fraudulent contrivances will be easily verified (assuming that the Matthean Gospel is written before the fall of the Temple of Jerusalem in AD. 70)

Structure of the Genealogy

The genealogy is divided into three main sections as Matthew himself claimed:

¹⁷So all the generations from Abraham to David were fourteen generations, and from David to the deportation to Babylon fourteen generations, and from the deportation to Babylon to the Christ fourteen generations.[7]

What importance does this hold? Matthew here seems to be designing his genealogy in a way that is symmetrical and easy to memorize. Thus, Matthew asserted that the genealogy contains fourteen generations per section. However, any shrewd reader will be apt to point out that the number does not correctly correspond to each section. Grant. R. Osborne points out,

There are fourteen names in the first series if David is counted. The problem is that there are only thirteen generations (periods between names)… In the second series, there are fourteen names only if David is not counted, so there are fourteen full generations (periods between names). In the third series, there are fourteen names if you count Christ.[8]

Here, Osborne rightly points out the numeral discord in each section. Let us consider the names in each series:

Series 1 (from Abraham to David): Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Judah, Perez, Hezron, Ram, Aminadab, Nahshon, Salmon, Boaz, Obed, Jesse, David (14)

Series 2: (David to Jeconiah): David, Solomon, Rehoboam, Abijah, Asa, Jehosaphat, Jehoram, Uzziah, Jotham, Ahaz, Hezekieh, Manasseh, Amon, Josiah, Jeconiah (15)

Series 3 (Jeconiah to Jesus): Jeconiah, Shealtiel, Zerubbabel, Abihud, Eliakim, azor, Zadok, Akim, Elihud, Eleazar, Matthan, Jacob, Joseph, Jesus (14)

Osborne offers a creative escape as a way of interpreting this without asserting inaccuracy: “This is resolved by simply assuming that Matthew is counting the generation leading to Abraham.”[9] Thus, counting from Jesus, one can omit either Jeconiah or David from the second series—assuming the former to belong to the third series and the latter to belong to the first series. Our new series will thus be:

Series 1 (from Abraham to David): Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Judah, Perez, Hezron, Ram, Aminadab, Nahshon, Salmon, Boaz, Obed, Jesse, David (14)

Series 2: (David to Jeconiah): Solomon, Rehoboam, Abijah, Asa, Jehosaphat, Jehoram, Uzziah, Jotham, Ahaz, Hezekieh, Manasseh, Amon, Josiah, Jeconiah (14)

Series 3 (Jeconiah to Jesus): Jeconiah, Shealtiel, Zerubbabel, Abihud, Eliakim, azor, Zadok, Akim, Elihud, Eleazar, Matthan, Jacob, Joseph, Jesus (14)

This strategy would satisfyingly do justice to Matthew’s original claim that there are fourteen generations each, while retaining the structural format.

The question as to why Matthew has chosen this particular format has perplexed the Biblical Scholar world. It is unclear as to what the number fourteen is supposed to represent. Nonetheless, many suggestions have been given.[10] One of the main suggestions has been gematria. This is the suggestion that even Osborne himself called as “the most likely.”[11] Gematria is the Jewish practice of using letters and alphabets for numbers. Every name and vowel has their own numeral significance—the word David in Hebrew consists of the three consonants dwd. Here, “d” equals to four and “w” equals to six (counted in Hebraic consonant order). In sum, the three letters produce the number fourteen. Scholars such as R. T. France, on the other hand, prefer the simpler explanation that fourteen is merely twice seven.[12]

The Omission of the Kings

This is the crux of the problem. The seemingly contrived structural format might have already given it away, but the genealogy has omitted—for some reason or another—the names of five kings along the line: Ahaziah, Joash, Amaziah, Jehoahaz, and Jehoiakim. Ahaziah, Joash, and Amaziah are supposed to be in between the line of Jehoram to Uzziah, while the two brothers Jehoahaz and Jehoiakim are in between Josiah and Jeconiah.

Analysis of the Kings

Any robust analysis of the omission of the five kings must contain a discussion of each of these kings. A pattern that of unrighteousness can be noticed within each of the kings. Ahaziah was blatantly described as an evil king who “walked in the ways of the house of Ahab.” (2 Chronicles 22:3). He was later captured in Samaria and killed by the men of Jehu, the tenth king of the Northern Kingdom of Israel. His successor, Athaliah, was subsequently executed and succeeded by Joash (2 Chr. 23:12-15)—who was the biological son of Ahaziah. Joash, in contrast, was first described as a righteous king (2 Chr. 24:2), but soon fell away at the end of his life. He was said to have served the Asherim and the idols and was later assassinated by his own servants (2 Chr. 24:18, 25). Likewise, Amaziah was a righteous king from the outset, but turned away later after striking the Edomites (2. Chr. 25:14).

It is obviously tempting for one to sway away the problem by merely attributing the omissions to the vile and the treacheries of these kings. Indeed, this solution has been proposed by R. T France himself. A clear success of such an approach is ambiguous, however—especially when the topic at hand is in regards to Biblical inerrancy. Such motives may give the opponents of the Scripture the necessary ammunition to impugn the Gospel of Matthew based on what they would perceive as “embellishments.”

Jehoahaz and Jehoiakim enters the picture as the two of the few ungodly kings recorded in 2 Kings 23-31 and 2 Kings 24:20. The Old Testament remarked that these kings include: Jehoahaz, Jehoiakim, Jehoiachin/Jeconiah, and Zedekiah. What does it, then, even mean when Matthew says “Josiah [is] the father of Jeconiah and his brothers?” A possible explanation is provided by Wilkins who points out that in the LXX (the Septuagint from where Matthew may have derived his genealogy from), the Greek word loakim denotes both Jehoiakim and Jeconiah.[13] It is possible that Matthew really intended for the word to have a double entendre—referring to both Jehoiakim and Jeconiah. Such an explanation will come more naturally when we understand the word “brothers” to not only mean the other rulers of the time, but also of the whole brotherhood of the Israelites sent to the exile—thus the whole clause is referring to a much greater scope than its literal meaning. Although this may be a possible interpretation, I shall adopt the worst possible scenario in this essay—that Matthew has actually omitted five kings from his genealogy.

In overall, the omission of the kings is a tougher issue to deal with for the inerrantist in comparison to the miniscule problem of the symmetrical structure. This understanding of Divine Inspiration is ubiquitous through the Christian tradition—and to deny such a doctrine costs a great price. Before we can proceed, however, it is good to inquire on what the biblical doctrine of inerrancy means.

Inerrancy

A solid understanding of what Biblical Inerrancy means will be vital to our discussion at hand. The most common misconception is that Biblical Inerrancy means that whatever the Bible says is true. However, this seems highly confused and misleading. For if whatever the Bible says is true, then the illustrations within the book of Revelation, would too, be literally true. But surely, this is absurd. The illustration in the book of Revelation is obviously a figure of speech or some sort. Thus, with this at hand, we can understand that defining inerrancy in its barest, narrowest sense will be counter-productive for any sincere truth-seeker. MacGregor avers:

“This classic doctrine of inerrancy stipulates that for each periscope within every document of the scriptural canon, when we first take into consideration that periscope’s original literary genre and the rules for what does and does not constitute an error in that genre, the periscope contains no errors.”[14]

The doctrine of Inerrancy does not concern what the Bible say on surface, but rather what the Bible teaches in its depth. We must determine the certain genre, literary tools, and context within a certain passage and determine whether it is correct in those senses.

Incompleteness and Inaccuracy

The best strategy for Christians, it seems, is to admit that there is incompleteness within the genealogy, but not inaccuracy. Herein, the difference is apparent. The Bible, for example, does not teach astrophysics or medicinal science. Does this mean the Bible is unqualified? By no means! Omissions of such details only signify an incompleteness of the Bible in discussing those topics.

However, here, we can go a step even further and ask ourselves, “is it appropriate for the Bible to omit such details?” Obviously, with regards to subjects such as astrophysics or medicinal science, one will adamantly agree that it is in all of a Bible’s propriety to leave out details that are not conducive to what the Bible focuses—the message of Salvation and knowledge of the One true God.

From here, we must likewise ask, “is it appropriate for the Gospel of Matthew to omit certain names within the genealogy?” If Matthew here meant to be precise and complete in his genealogy, doubtless that an incomplete genealogy would be Matthew’s errancy. However, does Matthew really intend for his genealogy to be perceived in such a way? Modern scholars think not.

The Purpose of the Genealogy

Matthew’s personal obsession in scrupulously arranging a symmetry is to be baffled about. Such an obsession, fortunately, helps to reveal to us Matthew’s original intent for the genealogy—an easy, memorisable, family data to help act as “signposts” for his Jewish audiences to identify Jesus within the line of the family of David. This identification of Jesus resonates with the unanimous view of New Testament scholars. Thus R. T. France says,

“But its [genealogy] main aim is clear enough: to locate Jesus within the story of God’s people as its intended climax, and to do it with a special focus on the Davidic monarchy as the proper context for a theological understanding of the role of the person whom Matthew, more than the other gospel writers, will delight to refer to not only as “Messiah” but also more specifically as “Son of David.”[15]

For such a purpose, the omission of the four kings will indeed be a beneficial tool in catalysing a compact genealogy for the purpose of easy memorization. In such a case, only the key people will be necessary within the genealogy with the purpose of acting as “signposts” pointing to the right direction. In fact, Craig S. Keener pointed out, “Matthew opens his Gospel by showing both Jesus’ historic inseparability from the history of Israel… The opening verse of the Gospel introduces two ancestors who become pivotal characters in the genealogy: Jesus is the son of Abraham (the ideal Jew) and the son of David (the Messiah).”[16] Here, Keener has even gone on to reduce the pillars of the genealogy to merely two characters: Abraham and David.

Keener goes on to argue that the main purpose of Matthew’s genealogy is not at all to show the genetic ancestry, but the emphasis has always been on His spiritual ancestry.[17] Ergo, he asserts, “Matthew thus establishes rhetorical community with his audience in his proem; proems typically appealed to audience sympathy.”[18] Keener’s view that such a genealogy is intended to build an emotional relation to the audience echoes well with Matthew’s colloquial and symmetrical format. Matthew here is not writing formally, but as a fellow Jew in his own relation to his brethren.

This theme of Jewish relation is indeed the majority view of Bible commentators with regards to Matthew’s purpose through the genealogy. Often times, this has been marked by the interpretation that Matthew has a theological focus more than one that is historical. Again, the theme is brought up that Matthew is not acting just as a historian in his writing, but also as a theologian. Wilkins’ statement is typical: “Matthew’s opening verse gives an important clue to his overall purpose and perspective. It had special meaning for those with a Jewish background, attempting both to awaken the faith of Jews and to strengthen the faith of Jewish Christians, insofar as Jesus is the “Messiah,” the “son of David,” the heir to the promises of Israel’s throne through King David.”[19] Some commentators have even gone so loose and say that for Matthew, this theological focus trumps over his historical focus. Thomas G. Long comments,

“It seems here that Matthew is more interested in making a theological point than in being genealogically precise. Almost every commentator has noted that this pattern of sets of uniformly numbered generation is an artificial creation, for each of these three time periods cover too many years to be spanned by only fourteen generations.”[20]

Comparison to Lukan Genealogy

A much broader issue appears once we compare the Matthean genealogy to its Lukan counterpart as expounded within Luke 3:23-38. Wilkins has formulated a list of five main differences that rifts apart the two genealogies.[21] 1) Matthew gives a descending genealogy, beginning with Abraham while Luke gives an ascending genealogy, starting with Jesus and tracing it backward to Adam. The Matthean genealogy here is more faithful to the Jewish tradition of genealogies while the Lukan genealogy adhere to genealogies more commonly found in Greco-Roman tradition. 2) Mathew places special emphasis on the covenants made with Israel, by tracing Jesus’ lineage to David and Abraham. Meanwhile, Luke places special emphasis on Jesus’ relation to all of humanity and to God by tracing his lineage to Adam and God himself. 3) The names of several persons after the Babylonian deportation differs between the two genealogies. Matthew follows the line through Jeconiah, Shealtiel, and Zerubbabel. Luke follows the line through Neri, Shealtiel, and Zerubbabel. 4) Matthew omits several names that are found in the genealogy of Luke. 5) Matthew puts emphasis on Jesus’ kingly lineage. David is not simply the son of Jesse—as Luke titles him—but that he is “King David”. Matthew traces Jesus’ genealogy through David’s son Solomon, while Luke traces the line through David’s son Nathan, who never reigned as king.

The issue of our interest regarding Matthean genealogy and Biblical inerrancy concerns third, fourth, and fifth point. The difference in the genealogy between Matthew and Luke itself is enough to crumble down the Biblical inerrancy. In the next passage, I shall attempt to reconcile the two together and provide a possible solution.

Reconciliation with Biblical Inerrancy

Henceforth, I will be arguing my last point—that by the context and the Biblical data that we have, we can see how the Matthean genealogy may be vindicated from accuses of errancy with regards to the omission of the four kings, differences with the Lukan genealogy and further, with regards to its symmetrical structure.

With regards to its symmetrical structure, we have observed that it is possible for us to view the genealogy in a way that will circumvent the issue of the asymmetrical number of people in each set. Although the first and third set contains fourteen people on its own, while the second contains fifteen, an easy way out would be to assume that Matthew was simply counting the generations leading to Abraham. Such a trick allows us to bypass the problem and retain the symmetrical structure of the genealogy that Matthew postulated.

With regards to the omission of the five kings, we have seen previously how this is consistent with the context of the Matthean genealogy—written colloquially in a structure that is memorisable to form an emotional relation with Jews who are reading the gospel. By the scrupulosity of Matthew towards its structural rigidity (despite the messiness that still ensues nevertheless) we can understand that Matthew never intended for his genealogy to be written as a complete, formal genealogy. Rather, his symmetrical focus and the unnecessity for the completion of the genealogy points to how Matthew deliberately omitted those kings in favour of the structural format.

Within such genre and context—there is no necessity for the genealogy to be precise. It ought to be precise only with regards to its theological and literary purposes—which it did. Therefore, form here we can infer that Matthew has indeed fulfilled its context, literary genres, and purposes; this is precisely what is needed to sufficiently fulfil the criteria for inerrancy. David L Turner is correct in saying, “Matthew has omitted three names … and other omissions can also be noted. But it is not that Matthew has erred, since he did not intend to work exhaustively and precisely.”[22]

Moreover, considering the insignificance of these five kings as signposts in the line of David, it would do little if those kings were omitted. To accomplish his purpose in the context of providing an informal genealogy for the lay people, the structural format has to be prioritized. In this regard, Matthew’s decision may even be praiseworthy as it shows his shrewdness as an author. It is further worthwhile to mention Keener’s remark that within the genre of ancient genealogies, it is not uncommon for such omissions to happen.[23] If this is indeed true, it would imply that not only such omissions permissible, but also in line with the mainstream tradition of ancient genealogies.

More, however, needs to be added with regards to the Lukan genealogy. There have been several possible suggestions posed as to how we can construe the differences in the Lukan and the Matthean genealogy. Luther has suggested that Matthew offered the Joseph’s ancestry while Luke offered Mary’s. This position, however, runs aground when we see the explicit wording in Luke 3:23 (cf. Luke 1:27). R. T France further excoriate this position by pointing out that ancient Jewish genealogies were not traced through the mother.[24] Another view that sprung up would be that either Matthew or Luke has simply invented names. But again, such a case is very unlikely. Genealogies are simply too important for any Jew to treat them so cavalierly.[25] Thus, Contemporary scholars have now opted for a third position that Matthew emphasized the royal lineage of Jesus by tracing the “throne-succession of the actual, and, after the exile, the putative kings of Judah.[26] Meanwhile, Luke may have emphasized the actual biological lineage of Jesus. France confesses that such a view may be speculative, but it is indeed possible that biological and dynastic line run on separate lines while converging on multiple occasions.[27]

Conclusion

I hope to have established a firm case for a reconciliation between the Matthean genealogy and Biblical inerrancy. As we have thus far seen, the obstacles into reconciling the two of them have fallen short. Though it is not at all unreasonable to doubt Matthew’s inerrancy—especially in light of its differences with the Lukan genealogy—, by the strength of the evidences, it seems more plausible for us to adhere to its inerrancy. Such a view is far more supported by our present understanding of Jewish tradition—their scrupulous preservation and recording of genealogies. With regards to the omission of the five kings and the asymmetrical number of people in the genealogy, I hope to have shown that there can be no reasonable doubt that Matthew has intended for the omission and this, too, fulfils the context, genre and purpose of the genealogy. The purported “asymmetry,” on the other hand, may be resolved simply with a quick re-evaluation as provided above.

Notes

[1] The Holy Bible: English Standard Version. (2016). (Ro 1:16). Wheaton: Standard Bible Society.

[2] The date of the authorship of Matthew has been clouded with much obscurities. The general scholars have been divided into two camps: the pre-70 AD camp and the Infra-70 AD camp. The position posed within this essay is the traditional position of the early Church Fathers. See Iraneus’, Against Heresies, 3.1.1. For a complete discourse regarding the debate of Matthew’s date of authorship, see R.T France, The Gospel of Matthew, 18-19; Michael J. Wilkins, Matthew, 24.

[3] K Lachmann, 1835; C. H. Weisse and C. G. Wilke, 1838; H.j. Holtzmann, 1863; B. Weiss, 1886; B. H. Streeter, 1924. This impressive list of 19^th century scholars who have persuasively argued for the primacy of the Gospel of Mark is gathered in Edwards, James. R. 2002. The Gospel According to Mark. Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing Co.

[4] Genesis Rabbah 98:8; j. Taʿanit 4:2; see Anthony J. Saldarini, Pharisees, Scribes and Sadducees in Palestinian Society: A Sociological Approach (Wilmington, Del.: Michael Glazier, 1988), 204–6.

[5] The genealogy in 1 Chr. 3 ends in Zerubbabel. See R.T. France, The Gospel of Matthew, 109

[6] Wilkins, Michael J. 2004. Matthew. The NIV Application Commentary. Grand Rapids: Zondervan. 57

[7] The Holy Bible: English Standard Version. (2016). (Mt 1:17). Wheaton: Standard Bible Society.

[8] Osborne, Grant. R. 2010. Matthew. Michigan: Grand Rapids: Zondervan. 60.

[9] Ibid.

[10] See Davies and Allison, Matthew. They discuss eight views of this arrangement.

[11] Osborne, Grant. R. 2010. Matthew. Michigan: Grand Rapids: Zondervan. 59.

[12] France, R.T. 2007. Gospel According to Matthew. Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing Co. 103.

[13] Wilkins, Michael J. 2004. Matthew. The NIV Application Commentary. Grand Rapids: Zondervan. 62.

[14] See Kirk MacGregor’s Luis de Molina, Life and Theology of the Founder of Middle Knowledge, 177. In the book, MacGregor offers a compelling model for Biblical inerrancy that ought to draw our attention.

[15] France, R.T. 2007. Gospel According to Matthew. Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing Co. 103.

[16] Keener, Craig S. 1999. A Commentary on the Gospel of Matthew. Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing Co. 73

[17] Ibid. 77

[18] Ibid.

[19] Wilkins, Michael J. 2004. Matthew. The NIV Application Commentary. Grand Rapids: Zondervan. 65.

[20] Long, Thomas G. 1997. Matthew. Westminster John Knox Press. 10

[21] Wilkins, Michael J. 2004. Matthew. The NIV Application Commentary. Grand Rapids: Zondervan. 57-58.

[22] Turner, David L. 1994. Matthew. Baker Academic. 27.

[23] “But skipping some generations was common enough in ancient genealogies, and Matthew would have seen no harm in approximating generations.” Keener, Craig S. 1999. A Commentary on the Gospel of Matthew. Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing Co. 75

[24] France, R.T. 2007. Gospel According to Matthew. Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing Co. 104

[25] Ibid.

[26] Ibid.

[27] Ibid.

When Was the New Testament Considered Scripture? 5 Facts That Point to an Early Canon

4. Is the NT True?, Theology and Christian Apologetics

By Alisa Childers

One of the most common misconceptions about the New Testament canon (the list of books the church recognizes as authoritative) is that early Christians didn’t have any Scripture until hundreds of years after the life of Christ and the Apostles. The church then examined all the books they had and “picked” the ones they thought should go in the canon. However, this is not how it happened.

Most of the earliest Christians were Jews, so they had the Old Testament Scriptures, but concerning the 27 books of the New Testament, there wasn’t an official canon until three or four hundred years later. That doesn’t mean they didn’t have New Testament Scripture. In fact, the word “canon” does not need to be confined to a formal and final list, but rather reflects “the entire process by which the formation of the church’s sacred writings took place.”[1] Here are 5 facts that point to an early canon:

Fact #1: Early Christians differentiated between canonical and non-canonical books.

Christians divided books into four categories:

Recognized books: Certain books like the four Gospels, Acts, and the letters of Paul were regarded as canonical by early Christians and were not disputed. In the 4th century, church historian Eusebius noted that this core canon had existed in Christianity for some time.[2]
Disputed books: Other books such as James, Jude, 2 Peter, 2 and 3 John, were disputed by some, yet accepted by many. These books weren’t officially canonized until later.[3]
Rejected books: Some books were acknowledged to be helpful for spiritual growth, but were not regarded as having the same authority as Scripture. Among these books were the Shepherd of Hermas, the Acts of Paul, and the Epistle of Barnabas, to name a few.[4]

Heretical books: A few books were never considered for canonical status and were rejected as outright heresy, such as the Gospel of Thomas, the Gospel of Peter, and the Acts of Andrew and John.[5]

Fact #2: Certain New Testament writings were cited as Scripture not long after they were penned.

The earliest mention of a New Testament book being referred to as Scripture comes from the New Testament itself. That’s as early as it gets! In 1 Timothy 5:18, the Apostle Paul writes:
For the Scripture says: Do not muzzle an ox while it is treading out the grain, and, the worker is worthy of his wages.

The first part of Paul’s quotation comes from Deuteronomy 25:4, but the second part comes from the New Testament—Luke 10:7 to be exact. In other words, Paul quotes Luke’s Gospel and calls it “Scripture.”

Another example comes from 2 Peter 3:15-16, where Peter mentions “all of Paul’s letters,” and warns believers to not be deceived by people who twist them “as they do the other Scriptures.” He obviously believed Paul’s epistles were on equal footing with the Old Testament, and expected this to be uncontroversial among his readers.

When the original Apostles were still alive, they discipled younger converts. One such convert, Polycarp, was believed to be a personal disciple of the Apostle John.[6] In the early second century, he wrote a letter to the church at Philippi, referencing the book of Ephesians as “Scripture.”[7]

Fact #3: Church Fathers began to compile lists of New Testament books long before any councils met to finalize the canon.

22 of the 27 books of the New Testament were listed in what is called the Muratorian Fragment, dated from about 180 AD. This list includes everything but Hebrews, James, 1 and 2 Peter, and possibly 3 John, indicating that the bulk of the New Testament canon was established at an extraordinarily early date.

The first complete list of the New Testament canon is often attributed to Athanasius, around AD 367, but Dr. Michael Kruger argues that all 27 books were affirmed by church father Origen more than a hundred years before that. This means that most likely by the 3rd century, the complete canon was recognized and in place.

Fact #4: Early Christian manuscripts were intended for public reading.

Manuscripts of the Greco-Roman world were made to be appreciated as works of art and not necessarily to be read in public. However, early Christian manuscripts were unique in that they were made for functionality, not beauty. Compared with their cultural counterparts, they had fewer lines per page, an exceptionally large number of reader’s aids, and spaces between sections—all of which suggests they were meant for public reading.
In the early church, and even going back to the Old Testament synagogues, almost all the writings that were read in public worship services were Biblical books. (For example, 2nd-century Christian apologist Justin Martyr tells us that in church gatherings, portions of the Old Testament and the Gospels would be read, followed by a sermon.[8] This indicates that the scribes who copied the manuscripts believed them to be Scripture and intended them to be used as such.[9]

Fact #5: Early Christians primarily used a codex rather than a scroll.

Centuries before it was broadly employed in Greco-Roman culture, early Christians mainly used a codex (similar to a modern book, bound at the spine) rather than a scroll, which was the primary form of a written document in the ancient world. The switch to the codex was sudden, early, and widespread among Christians. This may indicate the church’s need to combine several books into one volume, which only a codex was able to do. Many scholars believe this supports the idea that a canon was beginning to be established as early as the end of the 1st century.[10]
What did the councils actually do?

The councils that eventually convened to established the canon did just that—they finalized the list of books that were already considered canonical and settled a handful of disputes surrounding the remaining texts. However, the evidence suggests that early Christians had a functioning New Testament core canon long before that.

References

[1] Brevard S. Childs, The New Testament as Canon: An Introduction (SCM, 1984) p. 25

[2] Eusebius, Church History, 3.25.1-2

[3] Ibid., 3:25.3

[4] Ibid., 3.25.4

[5] Ibid., 3.25.6

[6] Tertullian, The Prescription Against Heretics, 32.2; Iranaeus, Against Heresies, 3.3

[7] Polycarp, Epistle to the Phillipians, 12.1

[8] Justin Martyr, The First Apology of Justin, LXVII

[9] Michael J. Kruger, “The Origin and Authority of the New Testament Canon,” Reformed Theological Seminary, 4 August 2016, Lecture #20 (Kruger also notes in his article Were Early Christian Scribes Untrained Amateurs? that this fact is well supported by a number of modern scholars.)

[10] Andreas J. Kostenberger & Michael J. Kruger, The Heresy of Orthodoxy (Crossway, 2010) p. 194-195

Did Jesus Exist? A Critical Appraisal of Richard Carrier’s Interpretation of the Pauline Corpus

4. Is the NT True?, Jesus Christ

By Jonathan McLatchie

Richard Carrier is an ancient historian who has risen to prominence as the lead advocate of Jesus Mythicism, a school of thought that entertains the idea that Jesus of Nazareth may never have existed at all. While Mythicism occupies only the fringes of the scholarly guild, it has gained much better traction on the internet, where poor scholarship can be widely disseminated unchecked. In 2014, Richard Carrier published the first academic defense of Mythicism through Sheffield Phoenix Press Ltd., an academic publisher.[1] Since this volume represents the first scholarly peer-reviewed publication supporting the Mythicist position and is written by an author with a doctoral degree in ancient history, the contents of Carrier’s thesis are deserving of attention.

Carrier examines the extrabiblical evidence of Jesus’ historicity, as well as the sources we find in the New Testament – the gospels, Acts, and epistles. While there is much that could be discussed in regards to Carrier’s handling of these sources, for the purpose of the present paper I will focus primarily on Carrier’s interaction with the Pauline corpus, though – for reasons that will become clear – I will also remark on the book of Acts insofar as it helps to illuminate the proper interpretation of Paul’s letters.

Having rejected the gospels and Acts as reliable documents, Carrier maintains that the letters of Paul are the best sources that bear on the question of the historicity of Jesus. He, however, contends that the letters of Paul fail to unequivocally refer to Jesus as an historical person who walked on earth. Instead, argues Carrier, Paul viewed Jesus as a celestial being, inhabiting a spiritual realm in outer space, in which He was crucified by demons and subsequently resurrected. Carrier’s thesis is in fact not a new idea, but one which was originally proposed by Earl Doherty, to whom Carrier owes much of his material.[2]

I cannot help but point out an irony in Carrier’s advocacy of scholarship that to call fringe would be an understatement. In one of Carrier’s other books, Why I Am Not a Christian, Carrier writes concerning biological evolution, “The evidence that all present life evolved by a process of natural selection is strong and extensive. I won’t repeat the case here, for it is enough to point out that the scientific consensus on this is vast and certain, so if you deny it you’re only kicking against the goad of your own ignorance.”[3] One wonders whether this quote has any relevance to the debate over Mythicism. I could forego interaction with Carrier’s argumentation by noting that “the evidence that Jesus existed is strong and extensive. I won’t repeat the case here, for it is enough to point out that the scholarly consensus on this is vast and certain, so if you deny it you’re only kicking against the goad of your own ignorance.” Presumably, Carrier would – quite rightly – object that I need to interact with his arguments rather than simply make an appeal to scholarly consensus. This is somewhat of an inconsistency on Carrier’s part.

In this paper, I will be primarily interacting with Carrier’s book, On the Historicity of Jesus. However, I may on occasion also draw from other publications by Carrier, including his blog posts, which might serve to illuminate his views or where he may have anticipated some of the objections I raise here.

An Analysis of Carrier’s Exegesis of the Undisputed Pauline Corpus

If Carrier’s position is to withstand scrutiny, Carrier must plausibly interpret those texts in the Pauline corpus that appear to situate Jesus on earth. There are in fact quite a number of details provided by the seven undisputed letters of Paul that give the strong appearance of representing Jesus as having lived on earth. Paul tells us that Jesus was born of the seed of David (Rom 1:3); that He was born of a woman, born under the law (Gal 4:4); that He delivered teachings about divorce (1 Cor 7:10); that He was betrayed (1 Cor 11:23); that He had a last supper (1 Cor 11:23-26); that He had brothers (Gal 1:19; 1 Cor 9:5); that He had twelve disciples (1 Cor 15:5); that He was crucified by the rulers of this age (1 Cor 2:8); and that He was killed by the Jews (1 Thes 2:13-16), and that He was buried. In this section, I will interact with Carrier’s exegesis of several of those texts listed above. I will not discuss Paul’s reference to “Christ Jesus, who in his testimony before Pontius Pilate made the good confession,” (1 Tim 6:13), since the authorship of the Pastorals is in scholarly dispute (and space does not permit me to do justice to the relevant literature), though I think a formidable case can be made for Pauline authorship of the Pastoral letters and indeed for all thirteen of Paul’s letters. I agree with Carrier, though for different reasons, that “There is a great deal wrong with how a ‘consensus’ has been reached on the dates and authorship of all these Christian materials, and the conclusions usually cited as established tend to be far more questionable than most scholars let on…I think there is a lot of work here that needs to be properly redone in NT studies, and I’m not alone in thinking that.”[4] I will also not discuss Paul’s reference to Jesus’ teachings on divorce or to the twelve, since I believe those can be interpreted in a manner that is consistent with Carrier’s thesis. The other texts listed above, however, are significant challenges to Carrier’s thesis, and it is to those that I now turn my attention.

Christ of the Seed of David (Rom 1:3): In the prologue of his letter to the Romans, Paul writes, “Paul, a servant of Christ Jesus, called to be an apostle, set apart for the gospel of God, which he promised beforehand through his prophets in the holy Scriptures, concerning his Son, who was born (γενομένου) of the seed (σπέρματος) of David according to the flesh,” (Rom 1:1-3). Carrier observes that, although the verb Paul uses here, γίνομαι, is used of birth by other authors, it is not the word that Paul customarily uses for birth, which is γεννάω (c.f. Rom 9:11; Gal 4:23,29).[5] Carrier argues that γίνομαι is used of God’s manufacture of Adam’s body from clay, and God’s manufacture of our glorified bodies in heaven. Thus, Carrier argues, this is a very odd word for Paul to use if he means to indicate that Jesus was born. Carrier’s proposed interpretation of Romans 1:3 is that God manufactured Jesus out of sperm that was obtained from David’s belly, an event that Carrier suggests took place in outer space.

Carrier has in mind here the Septuagint translation of Genesis 2:7, in which the word ἐγένετο (the aorist indicative form of γίνομαι) appears, describing the man as becoming a living creature. However, the word that is used here to describe the moment of divine manufacture is not ἐγένετο, but rather ἔπλασεν (the third person aorist indicative of the verb πλάσσω). The word ἐγένετο, rather, is used in this context to describe the change of state from non-living to living. Thus, it is not precisely correct to say that ἐγένετο refers to divine manufacture. Paul himself in fact alludes to this text (1 Cor 15:45). While Carrier asserts that Paul does not use γίνομαι to refer to a human birth, this only begs the question, since he must assume that Romans 1:3 and also Galatians 4:4 (which says that Jesus was born – γενόμενον – of a woman and born under the law) are not using the verb in this sense, which is the very question he is attempting to address. Furthermore, according to Liddell and Scott’s Intermediate Greek Lexicon, the verb γίνομαι, in the context of persons, means “to be born.”[6] We can independently verify this to be the case by analysing instances where this verb is used in the Septuagint, in order to discern how the word is used in relation to persons. Genesis 21:3 says, “Abraham called the name of his son who was born to him, whom Sarah bore him, Isaac.” In the Greek Septuagint, the Hebrew word נּֽוֹלַד־ (“was born”) is translated γενομένου. Another example is Genesis 46:27: “And the sons of Joseph, who were born to him in Egypt, were two.” Again, the Greek Septuagint renders this as γενομένου. Finally, consider Genesis 48:5: “And now your two sons, who were born to you in the land of Egypt before I came to you in Egypt, are mine; Ephraim and Manasseh shall be mine, as Reuben and Simeon are.” Here once again, the Greek Septuagint uses the word γενομένου.

Carrier points out that Paul also uses another verb, γεννάω, to refer to being born. One instance is Romans 9:11: “though they were not yet born (γεννηθέντων) and had done nothing either good or bad—in order that God’s purpose of election might continue, not because of works but because of him who calls.” The other instance is Galatians 4:23,29: “But the son of the slave was born (γεγέννηται) according to the flesh, while the son of the free woman was born through promise… But just as at that time he who was born (γεννηθεὶς) according to the flesh persecuted him who was born according to the Spirit, so also it is now.” While it may be granted that Paul uses the verb γεννάω to refer to being born, this entails nothing more than that Paul was willing to use synonyms for a word.

Another relevant question is how Paul himself uses the word σπέρματος (usually translated as “seed” or “offspring”) elsewhere. Paul writes, “I ask, then, has God rejected his people? By no means! For I myself am an Israelite, a descendant (σπέρματος) of Abraham, a member of the tribe of Benjamin,” (Rom 11:1). Here, Paul uses the exact same word for descendant as he used in Romans 1:3 to describe Jesus as being a descendent of David. If Paul – as he presumably did – believed that his descendance from Abraham entailed that he himself existed on earth, then it stands to reason that he also believed that Jesus existed on earth by virtue of His descendance from David.

To wrap up my analysis of this text, I will note that it is very clear from the dead sea scrolls that there was an expectation of a Davidic Messiah, and, moreover, this is likewise very evident from the Hebrew Bible as well. Therefore, the interpretation that Paul intends to express that Christ was born of the line of David is much more plausible than Carrier’s thesis that it refers to divine manufacture.

Born of a Woman (Gal 4:4): In Galatians 4:4, Paul writes, “But when the fullness of time had come, God sent forth his Son, born (γενόμενον) of woman, born under the law.” Carrier connects this verse to Galatians 4:24, where Paul writes, “Now this may be interpreted allegorically: these women are two covenants. One is from Mount Sinai, bearing children for slavery; she is Hagar.” Thus, Carrier wants to say that Galatians 4:4 is really only saying that Jesus was born of a covenant, not of a literal woman. This, however, is a very odd interpretation, since Paul only introduces the allegory in Galatians 4:21 — 17 verses after Galatians 4:4. In Galatians 4:24, Paul is only indicating that he is about to show an allegorical understanding of the narrative he has just alluded to in Genesis, concerning the births of Ishmael and Isaac. Indeed, the whole point of the allegorical interpretation of the two women is to show the true significance of Jesus’ birth given that Jesus traces his lineage back to Isaac, the child born through trust in God’s promise, and who who was born of the free woman Sarah (Gal 4:23).

But there is an even more damning objection to Carrier’s thesis here. That is, if Carrier’s theory about Galatians 4:4 is correct, then the allegorical interpretation makes sense only if we translate γενόμενον as “born” rather than “manufactured”. Therefore, if Carrier is correct here in his interpretation, he has himself refuted his own response to Romans 1:3, discussed above, that γενόμενον should not be used to refer to being born.

James the brother of the Lord (Gal 1:19): Paul claims personal acquaintance with an individual he refers to as “James the Lord’s brother” (Gal 1:19). Bart Ehrman cites this text as a persuasive piece of evidence for the historicity of Jesus.[7] Carrier observes that “Paul can use the phrase ‘brother of the Lord’ to mean Christian, since all Christians were brothers of the Lord.”[8] An example of this is Paul’s description of Jesus as “the firstborn among many brothers” (Rom 8:29). In response to this, Ehrman has pointed out that the phrase “the Lord’s brother” is used in Galatians 1:19 to distinguish James from Peter, who was not the brother of Jesus.[9] However, Carrier addresses this by pointing out that “the only two times [Paul] uses the full phrase ‘brother of the Lord’ (instead of its periphrasis ‘brother’), he needs to draw a distinction between apostolic and non-apostolic Christians.”[10] Thus, Carrier argues that James was not himself an apostle, and Paul uses the expression “the Lord’s brother” so as to distinguish him as a non-apostolic Christian, in contradistinction to Peter. However, this argument is problematic since it seems unlikely that Paul is implying – as would be required on Carrier’s interpretation – that he saw no other Christian, or even no-one of importance, in Jerusalem besides Peter and James. Ernest De Witt Burton concludes that “the phrase must probably be taken as stating an exception to the whole of the preceding assertion, and as implying that James was an apostle.”[11] Moreover, if Paul simply meant spiritual brother, one might expect him to instead write, ἕτερον δὲ τῶν ἀποστόλων οὐκ εἶδον, εἰ μὴ Ἰάκωβον τὸν ἀδελφὸν ἡμῶν (“I saw none of the other apostles, except James our brother”). Indeed, Peter refers to ἡμῶν ἀδελφὸς Παῦλος (“our brother Paul”) (2 Pet 3:15), so this would be a natural way of speaking of spiritual brotherhood.

Interestingly, Carrier also maintains that “only apostles ‘saw the Lord’, as that is what it was to be an apostle: to be one whom the Lord chose to reveal himself.”[12] But this statement appears to conflict with Carrier’s thesis that James was not an apostle, since Paul indicates that Jesus “appeared to James” (1 Cor 15:7). That this text is referring to the same James who is described in Galatians 1:19 is very likely, especially if, as suggested by many scholars, Paul received this creedal tradition upon his visit to Jerusalem some three years after his conversion, where he met with Peter and James (the very individuals specifically named in the creed) (Gal 1:18-19). Acts indicates that Peter and James were both prominent leaders in the Jerusalem church, and so they are natural for Paul to mention specifically by name. For Carrier to suggest that the individuals named James in Galatians 1:19 and 1 Corinthians 15:7 are different persons is special pleading involving pure speculation to save his theory. The clustering of the names Cephas and James in those two texts also suggests that the same two individuals are in view.

Paul also refers to “the brothers of the Lord” in the context of asking, “Do we not have the right to take along a believing wife, as do the other apostles and the brothers of the Lord and Cephas?” (1 Cor 9:5). Carrier insists that these are no more than cultic brothers of the Lord, as are all baptized Christians (c.f. Rom 8:29). A more natural way for Paul to say this, however, would be, instead of οἱ ἀδελφοὶ τοῦ κυρίου καὶ Κηφᾶς, to write Κηφᾶς καὶ άλλοι ἀδελφοὶ τοῦ κυρίου (“Cephas and the other brothers of the Lord”, since Cephas would be a brother of the Lord also, albeit an apostolic one).

The way it is worded in 1 Corinthians 9:5 suggests that the expression “the brothers of the Lord” refers to specific individuals who have taken for themselves a believing wife, just as the name Cephas refers to a certain individual.

The fact that there exists independent evidence that Jesus had a brother called James also raises the prior probability that the allusion to “James the Lord’s brother” (Gal 1:19) is a reference to biological kinship. Mark reports people in a synagogue in Nazareth saying, “Is not this the carpenter, the son of Mary and brother of James and Joses and Judas and Simon? And are not his sisters here with us?” (Mk 6:3; c.f. Mt 13:55). Mark also reports that one of the women who visited Jesus’ tomb on the first day of the week was “Mary the mother of James the younger and of Joses,” (Mk 15:40). That this was Jesus’ mother is supported by the fact that Mark 6:3 reports that Jesus had brothers called James and Joses, likely mentioned in Mark 15:40 for their prominence in the early church. Matthew also indicates that Jesus had a brother called Joseph (Mt 13:55) – who presumably had inherited his father’s name – and Matthew’s account of the visit to the tomb of Jesus indicates that one of the women was “Mary the mother of James and Joseph” (Mt 27:56). Thus, if Paul was identifying some other prominent Christian as “the brother of the Lord” (Gal 1:19), he would probably have taken pains to distinguish Him from this other James, the Lord’s biological brother. Though Carrier might reply that the gospel authors used Paul’s letters as a source and misunderstood his meaning in Galatians 1:19, this is unlikely, since the gospel authors appear to be well informed regarding the presence and identity of those women at the tomb on Easter morning, for reasons that I have documented elsewhere.[13]

The Rulers of This Age (1 Cor 2:7-8): Another text that Carrier must deal with is 1 Corinthians 2:7-8: “But we impart a secret and hidden wisdom of God, which God decreed before the ages for our glory. None of the rulers of this age understood this, for if they had, they would not have crucified the Lord of glory.” At face value, this text certainly appears to indicate that Jesus was crucified on earth by the rulers and authorities of His day. Carrier argues that the “rulers” (ἀρχόντων – the genitive plural form of ἄρχων) here are demonic and spiritual forces rather than human authorities. In support of this, he argues, following Earl Doherty, that 1 Corinthians 2:8 “looks like a direct paraphrase of an early version of the Ascension of Isaiah, wherein Jesus is also the ‘Lord of Glory’, his descent and divine plan is also ‘hidden’ and the ‘rulers of this world’ are indeed the ones who crucify him, in ignorance of that hidden plan (see the Ascension of Isaiah 9.15; 9.32; 10.12,15). It even has an angel predict his resurrection on the third day (9.16), and the Latin/Slavonic contains a verse (in 11.34) that Paul actually cites as scripture, in the very same place (1 Cor. 2.9).”[14] However, that Paul is textually dependent upon the Ascension of Isaiah seems very unlikely, given that scholarly estimates of the date of the Ascension of Isaiah generally place it in the early second century (though estimates range between the late first century and the early third century). If there is any dependence, it is more likely that the Ascension is dependent on Paul, not the other way round.

Carrier claims that “The earliest version in fact was probably composed around the very same time as the earliest canonical Gospels were being written.”[15] However, Carrier offers no argument in support of this contention. Furthermore, no version of the Ascension of Isaiah indicates that Jesus was crucified by demons in the firmament. Maurice Casey, responding to Earl Doherty (from whom Carrier derives this argument) notes that “the devil is held responsible for an evil event. Crucifixions, however, took place on earth, as everyone knew, and there is nothing positive in this (or any other!) text to justify moving the crucifixion of Jesus up there. The subject of ‘will lay their hands upon him and hang him upon a tree (9.14) is obviously people who were there at the time, the conventional story, which had been well known for centuries when this document was being compiled. There is no excuse for Doherty to invent the idea that this was really ‘Satan and his evil angels’ crucifying Jesus up there in the heavens.”[16] Indeed, the Latin 2 version and the Slavonic version state that Jesus was on earth in human form. Starting when Jesus reaches the fifth heaven, Jesus takes the form of the inhabitants of each realm to which he descends. Since Jesus becomes like Isaiah’s form, it is entailed that Jesus takes on a human form and thus he descended down to the earth. Indeed, the Latin 2 and Slavonic versions explicitly state, “And I saw one like a son of man, and he dwelt with men in the world, and they did not recognize him” (11:1). Thus, the Ascension of Isaiah teaches that Jesus did come to earth. Moreover, that Jesus was not crucified by spiritual legions is further supported by the fact that Jesus does not even give a password to the “angels of the air,” because they were “plundering and doing violence to one another,” (Ascension of Isaiah 10:31).

Returning to 1 Corinthians 2:7-8, is Carrier’s interpretation of the rulers of this age plausible? The same word, ἄρχοντες (the nominative plural form), is used in Romans 13:3 to refer to human rulers, so the word ἄρχοντες certainly can refer to human rulers. It is therefore appropriate to evaluate from the context of 1 Corinthians 2:7-8 whether the word there refers to spiritual forces or human authorities, a question that I will take up momentarily.

What about the word αἰών, translated “age” in 1 Corinthians 2:8? Can that word be used in a plain and temporal sense? Absolutely, it can. Indeed, Paul uses the word that way himself in the preceding chapter: “Where is the one who is wise? Where is the scribe? Where is the debater of this age?” (1 Cor 1:20). He also writes in the proceeding chapter, “Let no one deceive himself. If anyone among you thinks that he is wise in this age, let him become a fool that he may become wise,” (1 Cor 3:18).

Now, what does the context of 1 Corinthians 2:7-8 reveal about the proper identification of the rulers of this age? Carrier correctly observes that there are parallel texts where the rulers are identified as the ones in heaven (Eph 3:9; 6:12). The point here, however, as we shall see, is the difference in context between the texts in 1 Corinthians and Ephesians. Paul, moreover, always uses specific modifying words when he is speaking about spiritual forces.

In any case, let us return to the specific context of 1 Corinthians 2. Paul writes, “Where is the one who is wise? Where is the scribe? Where is the debater of this age? Has not God made foolish the wisdom of the world?” (1 Cor 1:20). The one who is wise, the scribe, and the debater are clearly human individuals. Paul, moreover, refers to human strength (1:25); “a human perspective,” and things that are “foolish” and “weak” (1:27), “despised in the world” and insignificant (1:28), and to “human wisdom” (2:13). He furthermore adds that his desire is that the Corinthian faith “not rest in the wisdom of men but in the power of God” (2:5), and that, though he imparted wisdom, it was “not a wisdom of this age or of the rulers of this age, who are doomed to pass away,” (2:6). It is in this context that we arrive at 2:8: “None of the rulers of this age understood this, for if they had, they would not have crucified the Lord of glory.” The text continues, “What no eye has seen, nor ear heard, nor the heart of man imagined, what God has prepared for those who love him” (v. 9). Paul goes on to write, “For who knows a person’s thoughts except the spirit of that person, which is in him? So also no one comprehends the thoughts of God except the Spirit of God,” (v. 11) Paul’s primary referent appears to be humans the whole way through, not demonic forces. What Paul writes next supports this case yet further: “Now we have received not the spirit of the world, but the Spirit who is from God, that we might understand the things freely given us by God. And we impart this in words not taught by human wisdom but taught by the Spirit, interpreting spiritual truths to those who are spiritual. The natural person does not accept the things of the Spirit of God, for they are folly to him, and he is not able to understand them because they are spiritually discerned. The spiritual person judges all things, but is himself to be judged by no one. ‘For who has understood the mind of the Lord so as to instruct him?’ But we have the mind of Christ” (vv. 12-16, emphasis added).

Thus, while Carrier’s reading of this text is not entirely impossible, by far the more plausible interpretation of this text, it seems to me, is that the rulers being spoken of here are indeed primarily human rulers, not demonic or spiritual forces. However, even if it be conceded that the referent in this text is spiritual forces, this does not support Carrier’s thesis since apocalyptic Jews believed that demons acted through human agency. For example, in the book of Daniel, Gabriel tells Daniel, “The prince of the kingdom of Persia withstood me twenty-one days, but Michael, one of the chief princes, came to help me, for I was left there with the kings of Persia,” (Daniel 10:13).

On the Night He was Betrayed (1 Cor 11:23-26): Carrier notes, rightly, that the verb παραδίδωμι, often translated in 1 Corinthians 11:23 as “to betray”, can also mean “to hand over.” Indeed, this same verb is even used of Jesus “giving up” His spirit at the time of his death (Jn 19:30). While “to betray” is certainly within this verb’s semantical range, Carrier is correct that this is an interpretive translation, based on the gospel accounts, and that “on the night He was handed over” – a reading that is consistent with Carrier’s thesis – would be an equally permissible translation. It is, however, more likely than not that betrayal is what Paul had in mind. All three of the synoptic gospels use this same verb in reporting Judas’ betrayal of Jesus and in those texts the “handing over” has connotations of betrayal (Mt 10:4; Mk 14:11; Lk 24:7).

Of further relevance here is Paul’s statement, also in this same chapter, that Jesus “took bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it, and said, ‘This is my body, which is for you. Do this in remembrance of me.’ In the same way also he took the cup, after supper, saying, ‘This cup is the new covenant in my blood. Do this, as often as you drink it, in remembrance of me,’” (1 Cor 11:23-25). Carrier maintains that the meal being spoken of here is not an actual event that took place on earth, but something entirely hallucinated by Paul.[17] In support of this, he points to Paul’s words that “I received from the Lord what I also delivered to you,” (1 Cor 11:23). Thus, Carrier argues, this is information He has received directly from Jesus, and not from the apostles. However, Alfred Plummer and Archibald Robertson note, “why assume a supernatural communication when a natural one was ready at hand? It would be easy for St Paul to learn everything from some of the Twelve. But what is important is, not the mode of the communication, but the source. In some way or other St Paul received this from Christ, and its authenticity cannot be gainsaid; but his adding ἀπὸ ταῦ Κυρίου is no guide as to the way in which he received it.”[18]

The Jews who killed the Lord Jesus (1 Thes 2:15): Paul writes, “For you, brothers, became imitators of the churches of God in Christ Jesus that are in Judea. For you suffered the same things from your own countrymen as they did from the Jews, who killed both the Lord Jesus and the prophets, and drove us out, and displease God and oppose all mankind by hindering us from speaking to the Gentiles that they might be saved—so as always to fill up the measure of their sins. But wrath has come upon them at last!” (1 Thes 2:14-16). Carrier argues that this text is an interpolation, and was not originally part of Paul’s letter. However, not a single sufficiently complete manuscript lacks this text, so the arguments for supposing this text to be an interpolation rest entirely on considerations besides textual critical ones. The reason why some scholars have viewed this text as a scribal interpolation is because, though the epistle was written around 51 A.D., the fall of Jerusalem (70 A.D.) appears to be in view, especially in verse 16b. However, David J. Williams points out that “there is nothing that compels us to identify this passage and, in particular, the second half of verse 16 with that disaster. An alternative suggestion (always assuming that the reference is to something past and not future) contends that Paul had in mind the series of disasters in A.D. 49 involving Jews, including a massacre in the temple (Josephus, War 2.224–227; Ant. 20.105–112) and their expulsion from Rome (Suetonuis, Claudius 25.4; cf. Acts 18:2 and see further, Williams, Acts, pp. 319f.). But in the context of this letter and in the light of 1:10 especially, it may be best to understand the reference as eschatological—the wrath is yet to come upon them. In this case, the aorist (past) tense would be functioning in the prophetic manner to express what is future.”[19] The grounds for presuming this text to be an interpolation, therefore, seem to be quite weak.

Christ was Buried (1 Cor 15:4): The final text I will deal with from the undisputed Pauline corpus is Paul’s reference to Jesus’ burial (1 Cor 15:4). Carrier maintains that the “same popular cosmology, the heavens, including the firmament, were not empty expanses but filled with all manner of things, including palaces and gardens, and it was possible to be buried there.”[20] He notes that “In this worldview, everything on earth was thought to be a mere imperfect copy of their truer forms in heaven, which were not abstract Platonic forms but actual physical objects in outer space.”[21] In support of his contention that in the ancient cosmology it was possible to be buried in the firmament, Carrier claims that “the Revelation of Moses says Adam was buried in Paradise, literally up in outer space, in the third heaven, complete with celestial linen and oils. Thus human corpses could be buried in the heavens.”[22] In a footnote, Carrier cites Revelation of Moses 32-41 (esp. 32.4, 37-40). However, in 1 Corinthians 15 Paul is drawing a comparison between what happened to Jesus and what will happen to other people in the day of the Lord. Jesus is described as “the firstfruits of those who have fallen asleep,” (1 Cor 15:20). Indeed, Paul spills much ink in his letters defending the coming general resurrection of the dead in Christ. Paul points to Jesus as an example. In this text, Paul is saying that Jesus is the first of the faithful to die physically and to be resurrected in a transformed spiritual body. Since Jesus is the firstfruits of those who will be resurrected on earth, it seems most probable that, just like all of the other human bodies that were buried on earth, Paul is envisioning Jesus as having been buried on earth. Carrier thus has to engage in special pleading to make an exception in Jesus’ case. Paul’s argument here makes not one lick of sense unless he believed that Jesus had a real flesh and blood body that lived physically on earth.

The Relevance of the Book of Acts to Pauline Interpretation

If Luke-Acts represents the composition of an individual who was a travelling companion of the apostle Paul, then it would be quite odd if Luke and Paul were to have such strikingly different views of who Jesus was. Luke clearly perceived Jesus to have been a man who walked on earth. On Carrier’s thesis, this is particularly surprising given that Paul does not mention or differentiate himself from any alternative school which maintained that Jesus walked on earth. A demonstration of the personal acquaintance of Luke with Paul, therefore, provides confirmatory evidence that the traditional interpretation of Pauline Christology is essentially correct. There exist numerous lines of evidence for Luke being a travelling companion of Paul. Notably, there are the famous “we” passages, beginning in Acts 16, which are best understood as indicating the author’s presence in the scenes he narrates. Craig Keener observes that the “we” pronouns trail off when Paul travels through Philippi, only to reappear in Acts 20 when Paul passes once again through Philippi.[23] This is suggestive that the author had remained behind in Philippi and subsequently re-joined Paul when Paul returned through Philippi.

Luke demonstrates very specific and detailed local knowledge that points to his close familiarity with Paul’s travels. These are all items of information that would not have been general knowledge or easily accessible. I will provide a few examples here to give a flavour of the sort of evidence we are talking about, though other authors, such as Colin Hemer, have documented many more.[24] I will list a handful of instances of the titles of local officials that Luke so effortlessly gets right. Luke gets right the precise designation for the magistrates of the colony at Philippi as στρατηγοὶ (Acts 16:22), following the general term ἄρχοντας in verse 19. Luke also uses the correct term πολιτάρχας of the magistrates in Thessalonica (17:6). He also gets right the term Ἀρεοπαγίτης as the appropriate title for the member of the court in Areopagus (Acts 17:34). He also correctly identifies Gallio as proconsul, resident in Corinth (18:12), an allusion that allows us to date the events to the period of summer of 51 A.D. to the spring of 52 A.D., since that is when Gallio served as proconsul of Achaia. Luke, moreover, uses the correct title, γραμματεὺς, for the chief executive magistrate in Ephesus (19:35), found in inscriptions there. Furthermore, when Luke tells us of the riot in Ephesus, he indicates that the city clerk told the crowd that “There are proconsuls” (Acts 19:38). A proconsul is a Roman authority to whom one might take a complaint. Normally, there was only one. So, why does Luke so casually use the plural term (ἀνθύπατοί) here? It turns out that, just at that particular time, there was in fact two as a result of the assassination by poisoning, in the fall of 54 A.D., of the previous proconsul, Silanus (Tacitus’ Annals 13.1). This, again, is something that would be rather difficult to get right by fluke. Luke even uses the correct Athenian slang word that the Athenians use of Paul in 17:18, σπερμολόγος (literally, “seed picker”), as well as the term used of the court in 17:19 — Ἄρειον Πάγον, meaning “the hill of Ares”. Luke also gets right numerous points of geography, sea routes, and landmarks. For example, he is correct about a natural crossing between correctly named ports (Acts 13:4-5). He names the proper port, Perga, for a ship crossing from Cyprus (13:13). He names the proper port, Attalia, that returning travelers would use (14:25). Luke also correctly names the place of a sailor’s landmark, Samothrace (16:11). He also correctly implies that sea travel was the most convenient means of traveling from Berea to Athens (17:14-15). Furthermore, Colin Hemer notes that “Paul’s staying behind at Troas and travelling overland to rejoin the ship’s company at Assos is appropriate to local circumstances, where the ship had to negotiate an exposed coast and double Cape Lectum before reaching Assos,” (Acts 20:13-14).[25]

Luke even gets the implied location of the island of Cauda correct in Acts 27, despite Ptolemy and Pliny the Elder getting it wrong.[26] And so it goes on and on. Furthermore, numerous passages of Acts artlessly dovetail with Paul’s letters in a way that supports both the truth of Acts as well as the authenticity of the letters.[27] For example, the cause of Barnabas’ strong desire for Mark to accompany him and Paul (eventually leading to them splitting ways) (Acts 15:36-41) is illuminated by a casual reference by Paul to the fact that Barnabas and Mark were cousins (Col 4:10), a detail not supplied by Acts.

Carrier dedicates a chapter of his book to discussing the book of Acts[28], though his arguments in that chapter are extremely disappointing – possibly even more so than his handling of the Pauline corpus. Moreover, Carrier adopts an extremist and indefensible position, namely, that the narrative of the book of Acts is “certainly not what happened, even in outline.”[29] Space does not permit me to discuss all of this chapter’s many problems in detail, but I will offer a few examples.

Carrier complains that “In Acts’ history of the movement, from the moment the flock first goes public, in the very city of Jerusalem itself, at no point in the story (anywhere in all subsequent 27 chapters spanning three decades of history) do either the Romans or the Jews ever show any knowledge of there being a missing body. Nor do they ever take any action to investigate what could only be to them a crime of tomb robbery and desecration of the dead (both severe death penalty offenses), or worse.”[30] However, this is an argument from silence, which is an extremely weak form of argument in historical inquiry.[31] Just because a source makes no mention of an event, even when he might be expected to, it does not provide strong evidence disconfirming the event in question. For example, the first-century Jewish writers Josephus and Philo both fail to mention the expulsion of the Jews from Rome by Claudius, though it is mentioned by the Roman historian Suetonius in the second century (Claudius 25.4). There is only one brief mention of the event in any first-century source (Acts 18:2). Despite the silence of these authors, it is widely recognized by historians that this event took place.

A second complaint that Carrier has about Acts is the fact that “all the people associated with a historical Jesus…disappear from the historical record entirely.”[32] As examples, Carrier points out that Pontius Pilate, Joseph of Arimathea, Simon of Cyrene, and his sons, Martha, Lazarus, Nicodemus, and Mary Magdalene are not mentioned at all in the book of Acts. However, this is an argument from silence of the very weakest sort. The silence of the book of Acts on the fate of characters who are significant in the gospels does in no way impugn the historicity of Acts. The book of Acts is about the spread of early Christianity and about certain key apostles, particularly Peter and Paul. There is absolutely no reason whatever to expect Acts to mention every character with a role in the gospels.

Carrier also claims that Luke contradicts Paul’s letters. He writes, “For example, we know Paul ‘was unknown by face to the churches of Judea’ until many years after his conversion (as he explains in Gal. 1.22-23), and after his conversion, he went away to Arabia before returning to Damascus, and he didn’t go to Jerusalem for at least three years (as he explains in Gal. 1.15-18), whereas Acts 7-9 has him known to and interacting with the Jerusalem church continuously from the beginning, even before his conversion, and instead of going to Arabia immediately after his conversion, in Acts he goes immediately to Damascus and then back to Jerusalem just a few weeks later, and never spends a moment in Arabia. And yet we have the truth from Paul himself.”[33] However, a closer inspection of those texts reveals no contradiction at all. Luke tells us that “When many days had passed, the Jews plotted to kill him, but their plot became known to Saul. They were watching the gates day and night in order to kill him, but his disciples took him by night and let him down through an opening in the wall, lowering him in a basket,” (Acts 9:23-25). How long a period of time is denoted by “…many days…”? In 1 Kings 2:38-39, the phrase “many days” in Hebrew is immediately glossed as three years. But what about the trip to Arabia? Luke is silent on it, but does Luke contradict Paul’s claim that he went to Arabia? I would place Paul’s trip to Arabia within the “many days” of Acts 9:23. Paul also informs us that he “returned again to Damascus (Gal 1:17), so it is not surprising that his subsequent trip to Jerusalem is from Damascus. As for Paul being “still unknown in person to the churches of Judea that are in Christ” during his travels through Syria and Cilicia (Gal 1:22), this does not seem to me to be a great difficulty at all. Acts 8:1-3 indicates that Paul had been involved in persecuting the church in Jerusalem, to be distinguished from the whole region of Judea. Acts 8:1 in fact indicates that the believers in Jerusalem “were scattered throughout the regions of Judea and Samaria.” They no doubt would have told other believers with whom they came into contact of the persecution they had experienced under Saul of Tarsus, but it does not follow that the churches in Judea would generally have known him by sight, although they would doubtless have known him by reputation.

Carrier also claims various textual parallels that he argues “are too numerous to be believable history, and reflect the deliberate intentions of the author to create a narrative that served his purpose.”[34] However, even if textual parallels are close enough (and sufficiently improbable by coincidence) to be indicative of authorial intent, it is possible for an author to draw a parallel between real history and some other narrative, and deliberately word his account with the intent of drawing the reader’s mind to that text. The parallels Carrier draws, however, are generally unconvincing. For example, Carrier claims that “Luke makes Paul’s story parallel Christ’s.”[35] The parallels he draws attention to include that “both undertake peripatetic preaching journeys, culminating in a last long journey to Jerusalem, where each is arrested in connection with a disturbance in the temple’, then ‘each is acquitted by a Herodian monarch, as well as by Roman procurators’. Both are also plotted against by the Jews, and both are innocent of the charges brought against them. Both are interrogated by ‘the chief priests and the whole Sanhedrin’ (Acts 22.30; Lk. 22.66; cf. Mk 14.55; 15.1), and both know their death is foreordained and make predictions about what will happen afterward, shortly before their end (Lk. 21.5-28; Acts 20.2-38; cf. also 21.4).”[36] These coincidences are not at all sufficiently improbable to indicate authorial intent, in particular since Jesus and Paul both occupied the same socio-political setting.

Furthermore, Carrier subsequently goes on to note that “Paul does almost everything bigger than Jesus: his journeys encompass a much larger region of the world (practically the whole northeastern Mediterranean); he travels on and around a much larger sea (the Mediterranean rather than the Sea of Galilee); and though, like Jesus, on one of these journeys at sea he faces the peril of a storm yet is saved by faith, Paul’s occasion of peril actually results in the destruction of a ship. Likewise, Paul’s trial spans years instead of a single night, and unlike Jesus, veritable armies plot to assassinate Paul, and actual armies come to rescue him (Acts 23.20-24). While Jesus stirs up violence against himself by reading scripture in one synagogue (Lk. 4.16-30), Paul stirs up violence against himself by reading scripture in two synagogues (Acts 13.14-52 and 17.1-5). However, whereas Christ’s story ends with his gruesome death (which had a grand salvific purpose, which could not be claimed for Paul’s ultimate death, and which to end well had to be followed by a once-and-final resurrection, something that could also not be claimed for Paul), Paul’s story ends on a conspicuously opposite note: ‘and he abode two whole years in his own hired dwelling, and received all that went to him, preaching the kingdom of God, and teaching the things concerning the Lord Jesus Christ with all boldness, none forbidding him’, something even Jesus could not accomplish when he was in Roman custody (Acts 28.30-31). Thus Paul out-does Jesus even in that.” It appears here that, according to Carrier’s historical methodology, similarities between Jesus’ and Paul’s life are to be taken as evidence against Acts’ historicity, and differences between Jesus’ and Paul’s life are also to be taken as evidence against Acts’ historicity. This is a classic ‘heads I win; tails you lose’ argument.

Carrier also argues for a late date of Acts, following Richard Pervo who dates Acts to the second century A.D.[37] The primary motivation for such a late date is the argument that Luke was dependent upon Josephus’ Antiquities (~93 or 94 A.D.). Craig Keener notes in response to this suggestion that “It would be difficult, however, for Luke to have made direct use of Josephus; Josephus’s Antiquities probably was issued about 93/94, and the copies of its twenty books would have been quite expensive and not readily available soon after their publication to nonelite persons.”[38] Furthermore, he adds, “In the final analysis, it is highly unlikely that Luke depends on Josephus. The strongest argument for dependence is Luke’s citation of Theudas and Judas. Yet it seems unlikely that Luke would have read Jos. Ant. 18–20, used barely any of it, and then gotten wrong the one point most likely drawn from it, if he was dependent at all. The other matters that he could have taken from Josephus were widely known. Josephus did not compose his reports of Theudas or Judas from thin air, and oral or written reports about these leaders would have been available to Luke as well as to Josephus. Josephus completed his Antiquities no earlier than 93 C.E., but Luke’s sometimes positive portrayal of Roman administrators probably would make less sense in the later years of Domitian’s reign.”[39]

Finally, Carrier claims that whereas “everywhere else, the speeches and sermons in Acts are conspicuously historicist; but when Paul is on trial, where in fact historicist details are even more relevant and would even more certainly come up, they are suddenly completely absent. That is very strange; which means, very improbable. The best explanation of this oddity is that Paul’s trial accounts were not wholesale Lukan fabrications but came from a different source than the speeches and sermons Luke added in elsewhere – a source that did not know about a historical Jesus.”[40] However, Paul’s allusion to “the name of Jesus of Nazareth” in His defense before Agrippa implies that Nazareth was Jesus’ hometown (Acts 26:9). The Greek is τὸ ὄνομα Ἰησοῦ τοῦ Ναζωραίου (literally, “the name of Jesus the Nazarene”). Carrier might respond to this by claiming that the Nazarenes may have been a cultic sect, and that it is not referring to the town of Nazareth in Galilee.[41] However, it is worthy of attention that the servant girl in Matthew 26:71 likewise uses the exact same expression, speaking of Peter: Οὗτος ἦν μετὰ Ἰησοῦ τοῦ Ναζωραίου (“this man was with Jesus the Nazarene”). But Matthew clearly believed that Jesus was raised in the town of Nazareth in Galilee (Mt 2:23; 21:11). Since the idea that Jesus was born in the town of Nazareth is found in all four gospels, including the independent birth narratives in Matthew and Luke, it is likely that this tradition goes back extremely early.

To summarize this section, there are good reasons to believe the author of Acts to have been a travelling companion of Paul, and Carrier fails to offer comparably good reasons for thinking he was not. If Paul was indeed a travelling companion of Paul, then it is quite surprising on Carrier’s thesis that Luke and Paul believed such starkly different things about Jesus – especially something as fundamental as whether Jesus lived on earth or was a celestial being who never actually walked the earth. Thus, the evidence for Luke being a travelling companion of Paul suggests that the traditional interpretation of Pauline Christology is the correct hermeneutical framework for understanding those texts previously discussed.

Conclusion

To conclude, the evidence from the Pauline corpus strongly indicates that the apostle Paul believed that Jesus was a real person who lived physically on earth. Paul was an apocalyptic Jew, and thus the beliefs of apocalyptic Jews must be taken as the interpretive framework for understanding Paul’s letters. Since Paul was personally acquainted with multiple first-hand eyewitnesses of Jesus’ life (including Jesus’ closest disciple Peter, and Jesus’ biological brother James), Paul’s testimony provides good reason to conclude that Jesus existed.

Footnotes

[1] Richard Carrier, On the Historicity of Jesus: Why We Might Have Reason for Doubt (Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix Press, 2014).

[2] Earl Doherty, Jesus: Neither God Nor Man – The Case for a Mythical Jesus (Ottawa: Age of Reason Publications, 2009).

[3] Richard Carrier, Why I Am Not a Christian – Four Conclusive Reasons to Reject the Faith (California: Philosophy Press, 2009), 60.

[4] Richard Carrier, On the Historicity of Jesus: Why We Might Have Reason for Doubt (Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix Press, 2014), 304.

[5] Ibid., 658. See also Richard Carrier, “The Cosmic Seed of David”, Richard Carrier Blogs, October 18, 2017. https://www.richardcarrier.info/archives/13387.

[6] Henry George Liddell and Robert Scott, An Intermediate Greek-English Lexicon (Oxford: Calerondon Press, 2019).

[7] Bart D. Ehrman, Did Jesus Exist? The Historical Argument for Jesus of Nazareth (California: HarperOne, 2012), 145-148.

[8] Richard Carrier, On the Historicity of Jesus: Why We Might Have Reason for Doubt (Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix Press, 2014), 669.

[9] Bart D. Ehrman, Did Jesus Exist? The Historical Argument for Jesus of Nazareth (California: HarperOne, 2012), 145-148. See also Bart Ehrman, “Carrier and James the Brother of Jesus”, The Bart Ehrman Blog – The History and Literature of Early Christianity, November 5, 2016. https://ehrmanblog.org/carrier-and-james-the-brother-of-jesus/

[10] Richard Carrier, On the Historicity of Jesus: Why We Might Have Reason for Doubt (Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix Press, 2014), 588-590. See also Richard Carrier, “Ehrman and James the Brother of the Lord”, Richard Carrier Blogs, November 6, 2016. https://www.richardcarrier.info/archives/11516.

[11] Ernest De Witt Burton, A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Epistle to the Galatians (New York: C. Scribner’s Sons, 1920), 60.

[12] Richard Carrier, On the Historicity of Jesus: Why We Might Have Reason for Doubt (Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix Press, 2014), 137.

[13] Jonathan McLatchie, “The Resurrection of Jesus: The Evidential Contribution of Luke-Acts”, Jonathan McLatchie website, October 5, 2020, https://jonathanmclatchie.com/the-resurrection-of-jesus-the-evidential-contribution-of-luke-acts/

[14] Richard Carrier, On the Historicity of Jesus: Why We Might Have Reason for Doubt (Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix Press, 2014), 64.

[15] Ibid., 53.

[16] Maurice Casey, Jesus: Evidence and Argument or Mythicst Myths? (Biblical Studies) (London: T&T Clark, 2014), 262.

[17] Richard Carrier, On the Historicity of Jesus: Why We Might Have Reason for Doubt (Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix Press, 2014), 642. See also Richard Carrier, “Historicity Big and Small: How Historians Try to Rescue Jesus”, Richard Carrier Blogs, April 25, 2018. https://www.richardcarrier.info/archives/13812.

[18] Alfred A. Plummer and Archibald T. Robertson, A critical and exegetical commentary on the First epistle of St. Paul to the Corinthians (New York: T&T Clark, 1911), 242–243).

[19] David J. Williams, 1 and 2 Thessalonians (Michigan: Baker Books), 48–49.

[20] Richard Carrier, On the Historicity of Jesus: Why We Might Have Reason for Doubt (Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix Press, 2014), 217.

[21] Ibid.

[22] Ibid., 220.

[23] Craig Keener, Acts: An Exegetical Commentary, Vol. 1 (Michigan: Baker Academic, 2012), 431.

[24] Colin Hemer, The Book of Acts in the Setting of Hellenistic History (Indiana: Eisenbrauns, 1990).

[25] Ibid., 125.

[26] Ibid., 330-331. See also James Smith, The Voyage and Shipwreck of St. Paul: With Dissertations on the Life and Writings of St. Luke, and the Ships and Navigation of the Ancients, Fourth Edition, Revised and Corrected (London: Longmans, Green, and Co., 1880).

[27] Lydia McGrew, Hidden in Plain View: Undesigned Coincidences in the Gospels and Acts (Ohio: DeWard Publishing Company, 2017). See also William Paley, Horae Paulinae or, the Truth of the Scripture History of St. Paul Evinced (In The Works of William Paley, Vol. 2 [London; Oxford; Cambridge; Liverpool: Longman and Co., 1838].

[28] Richard Carrier, On the Historicity of Jesus: Why We Might Have Reason for Doubt (Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix Press, 2014), chapter 9.

[29] Ibid., 424.

[30] Ibid., 429.

[31] Timothy McGrew, “The Argument from Silence”, Acta Analytica 29, 215-228 (October 2013).

[32] Richard Carrier, On the Historicity of Jesus: Why We Might Have Reason for Doubt (Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix Press, 2014), 431.

[33] Ibid., 423.

[34] Ibid., 424.

[35] Ibid., 425.

[36] Ibid.

[37] Ibid., 308; Richard Pervo, Dating Acts: Between the Evangelists and the Apologist (California: Polebridge, 2006).

[38] Craig Keener, Acts: An Exegetical Commentary, Vol. 1 (Michigan: Baker Academic, 2012), 394.

[39] Ibid.

[40] Richard Carrier, On the Historicity of Jesus: Why We Might Have Reason for Doubt (Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix Press, 2014), 437.

[41] Ibid., 562.

External Evidence for John’s Authorship

Internal Evidence for John’s Authorship

Answering Objections

The Gospel According to John

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Pre-Markan Tradition

Protective Anonymity

Lazarus

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Anonymous by Default

Simon of Cyrene

Cleopas

Names and Eyewitnesses

Notes

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Two Types of Authority

Applying the Distinction

Scripture as an Epistemic Authority

Highest Epistemic Authority

A Final Consideration

Summary and Conclusion

Notes:

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Context Regarding the Gospel of Matthew and the Genealogy

Structure of the Genealogy

The Omission of the Kings

Analysis of the Kings

Inerrancy

Incompleteness and Inaccuracy

The Purpose of the Genealogy

Comparison to Lukan Genealogy

Reconciliation with Biblical Inerrancy

Conclusion

Notes

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Fact #1: Early Christians differentiated between canonical and non-canonical books.

Fact #2: Certain New Testament writings were cited as Scripture not long after they were penned.

Fact #3: Church Fathers began to compile lists of New Testament books long before any councils met to finalize the canon.

Fact #4: Early Christian manuscripts were intended for public reading.

Fact #5: Early Christians primarily used a codex rather than a scroll.

References

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An Analysis of Carrier’s Exegesis of the Undisputed Pauline Corpus

The Relevance of the Book of Acts to Pauline Interpretation

Conclusion

Footnotes

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