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Is All Reasoning Circular Reasoning?

Circular reasoning is generally understood to be fallacious. The reason for this is that circular arguments assume what they purport to prove. At least one premise in a circular argument depends upon the truth of the conclusion, making the argument lose any justifying force. For in order to accept the relevant premise, one would have to already believe the conclusion. But if one already believes the conclusion then one has no need for the argument, and if one does not already believe the conclusion then the argument will not yield any grounds for belief.

Despite the seeming obviousness of what I have just said, it nonetheless remains startlingly popular to claim that circular reasoning is, in some cases, acceptable and — even worse — ultimately unavoidable. This claim is common among those Christian apologists known as presuppositionalists (although it is, by no means, limited to them). It is not my purpose here to critique circular reasoning in general or to offer a non-circular alternative, although I have done this elsewhere.[1] My purpose here is to critique one popular argument which purports to show that circular reasoning is unavoidable.

The argument is typically phrased something like this: “You must use reason in order to prove reason.” The thrust of the argument seems to be that since one cannot prove reason apart from reason, circularity is simply inescapable.[2] Although I don’t encounter this argument much in scholarly literature (at least not in this form) it is rather popular among internet presuppositionalists. And while I generally prefer to discuss scholarly issues, the pervasiveness of this argument coupled with the fact that I am not aware of any direct interaction with it moves me to write this article in reply.[3]

In this article, I intend to briefly explain my motivation for addressing this argument. After that, I will try to disambiguate the argument and clarify both what it means and how one might respond. After disambiguating the argument, I shall argue that it either assumes a theory of epistemic justification which can be rejected or else fails to recognize an important distinction between two types of usage. Either way, circular reasoning can be avoided.

Raising the Stakes

Before engaging the argument directly, it will be helpful to provide some motivation for examining it at all. After all, why should the argument concern us? Is it really a problem if all justification is circular in the end? Or perhaps we should not even try to justify the reliability of reasoning. Perhaps it is simply a fundamental assumption of all philosophical inquiry which needs no justification.

It would be an understatement to say that many philosophers are content to say that belief in the reliability of reason can only be justified in a circular way.[4] Still, others take the essential reliability of reason to be a fundamental axiom which is incapable of justification and needs none. But I have never found such answers to be satisfactory. I have never been content to suppose that I should require justification for my beliefs down to the bottom level but then give the foundational beliefs a free pass. Such a move seems completely arbitrary and even inconsistent. If our most foundational beliefs are unjustified, then I take this to entail that all beliefs which depend on them for their justification are likewise unjustified. I suspect that many readers feel the same way.

But this conviction forces those who hold it to face the original argument. For if there is no non-circular means of justifying foundational beliefs, then we may well have to face the conclusion that none of our beliefs are justified. For those wishing to avoid such a gloomy conclusion, there is a strong motivation for addressing the original argument.

Clarifying the Issue

Having provided some motivation, let’s turn to assess the merits of the argument. Roughly we are concerned with the claim that one must use reason to justify reasoning. Stated thusly, the claim is quite incoherent. Reasoning is a deliberative cognitive process. It is not a proposition. It is not the sort of thing which can be true or false. As such, reasoning itself needs no justification since it is an action rather than a belief. Imagine how absurd it would be to demand justification for walking, or for driving, or for swimming. Such activities need no justification precisely because they are activities rather than propositions. Once we have understood that only propositions require justification due to their potential to be false, it becomes evident that the act of reasoning does not need justification.

Sometimes the argument is phrased as a question: How do you know that your reasoning is valid? But stated in this way, the argument is guilty of a category error. Validity is not a property of reasoning but rather a property of arguments.[5] To say that one’s reasoning is valid makes as little sense as saying that one’s driving is valid. Validity simply doesn’t apply to activities.

But perhaps it will be objected that I have missed the point. After all, I am taking advantage of very poorly worded versions of the argument. And that is, of course, quite true. As I observed earlier, this argument is not as prominent among scholars as it is among those on the internet. But I do think that addressing these muddled versions of the argument is an important task because it helps us to clarify what is and what is not at issue. Moreover, it forces those who would use these problematic formulations of the argument to be more precise. Finally, pointing out the incoherence of these simplistic formulations of the argument can also serve to rob them of their rhetorical force.

Strengthening the Argument

So let me attempt to reconstruct a more sensible version of the argument. It seems to me that when someone says that we must use reason to justify reasoning, they mean that one must use their ability to reason in order to defend the proposition that reasoning is reliable. One must, in effect, assume that their ability to reason is reliable. Certainly, this is a much more robust argument. But to answer it, we must seek still greater clarification.

Before turning to answer the robust version of the argument, we must ask what is meant by the phrase “reason is reliable.” Taken quite literally it would mean that the cognitive process of reasoning itself somehow yields justification for beliefs by virtue of being reliable. Taken in this way, the argument is saying that one must assume that reasoning yields justification for beliefs by virtue of being reliable in order to reach the conclusion that reasoning yields justification for beliefs by virtue of being reliable.

Reliabilism vs. Evidentialism

Thus construed, the argument assumes a reliabilist epistemology. Reliabilism is a theory of epistemic justification according to which beliefs are justified if they have been produced by a reliable process. If this is what the proponent of the argument is claiming, then we may happily agree with him. It is not at all controversial that reliabilism is guilty of epistemic circularity. This is a well-known fact which is admitted by reliabilists and critics of reliabilism alike.

Notice, however, that if this is what the argument is trying to establish, then it assumes reliabilism and reaches the uncontroversial conclusion that reliabilism leads to circularity. However, not all philosophers are reliabilists. Reliabilism’s main contender is known as evidentialism. According to evidentialism, the justification that any subject has for a belief is always relative to the evidence which that subject possesses for that belief.[6] Evidentialism seeks justification in evidence – not in reliable processes. Hence, the argument considered above will simply not work against evidentialism because it assumes a theory of justification which the evidentialist rejects.[7] As such, one need only reject reliabilism in order for the argument to fail to establish that circularity is unavoidable.

Functional Usage vs. Justificatory Usage

Nevertheless, evidentialists still do use reason to arrive at justified beliefs. Does this indicate that there is still some circularity on the part of the evidentialist? In order to answer this, we will need to be clear on what is meant by using reason. There are two quite distinct ways in which we use things to justify our beliefs. We use things in a justificatory sense and we also use things in a functional sense. Something is used in a justificatory sense when it is offered as a rational justification for a belief. Something is used in a functional sense when it is employed as a tool in the process of offering rational justification. Crucially, nothing about a functional usage contributes to the rational justification for a belief. It is simply a means of helping a subject see that justification for what it is. The upshot is that functional usage doesn’t even have the potential to be circular because circularity can only apply to justification.

We can see the distinction more clearly through an illustration. Imagine that I am debating a friend over the existence of pencils. I am trying to convince him that pencils actually exist. Moreover, suppose that this debate is mediated by means of letters. In my attempt to convince my friend that pencils are real, I offer him numerous syllogistic arguments in support of the existence of pencils. Now let’s say that I use a pencil to write out these arguments for him. In this case, it would be quite correct to say that I used a pencil to justify my belief in the existence of pencils. But the usage was entirely functional. At no point did I use the proposition that pencils exist as a premise in an argument which concluded that pencils exist. The premises in my arguments are what I am using to justify my belief in pencils. Therefore, the justification of my belief in pencils is not circular even though I used a pencil to justify the belief. This is because the usage of the pencil was functional rather than justificatory.

This illustration is fairly analogous to what I have in mind when I say that evidentialists “use reason” to justify their beliefs. While it is true that we must think critically — we must reason — in order to justify our beliefs, we are not using reason as the rational basis for any of our beliefs. The evidence provides the justification for our beliefs and reason is just the process of evaluating it. At no point does the process of reasoning itself justify a belief. Reasoning without evidence from which to reason gets us nowhere. Reason is not some mystical ability which leads us to truth in and of itself. Reason requires to facts to work with. It is simply a necessary means for reaching justified beliefs. Critically, since we are not attributing justification to the reasoning process itself, our use of it is not justificatory. It is functional. As such, our use of reason when seeking to justify our beliefs is not circular.

Summary and Conclusion

In this article, I have assessed the claim that epistemic circularity is unavoidable since one must, in fact, use reason to justify their beliefs about the truth-finding nature of reasoning. I have determined that the argument is usually framed in an unclear and incoherent way. When it is made intelligible, it assumes epistemic reliabilism and, therefore, it is forceless against evidentialism. Any attempt to press the argument against evidentialism will beg the question against evidentialism. Moreover attempts to modify it to face evidentialism on the basis that evidentialists “use reason” fail to acknowledge the distinction between functional and justificatory usage. Since evidentialists only “use reason” in a functional sense, they are not guilty of epistemic circularity.

It has not been my purpose here to assess all arguments for epistemic circularity or to provide a detailed account of a non-circular theory of knowledge. Others more capable than myself have done this elsewhere.[8] My purpose has been minimal. I have merely attempted to show that a single popular argument for the inescapability of circular reasoning does not succeed as long as evidentialism is a viable option.

Notes

[1] See my video “Internalism Versus Externalism” available here https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fxOg5zKUYmU&t=12s

[2] For a cluster of arguments along these lines see Sye Ten Bruggencate’s video “How To Answer The Fool (full film)” available here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aQKjUzotw_Y&vl=en&t=329

[3] In particular conversations with Seth Bloomsburg and Tyler Vela convinced me of the need for such an article.

[4] Examples include William Alston, Alvin Plantinga, Michael Bergmann, and Andrew Moon

[5] To be sure, we sometimes speak of valid and invalid reasoning. But this sort of language refers not to cognitive processes, but rather to the validity of the logical inferences that the reasoning follows.

[6] Earl Conee and Richard Feldman, Evidentialism, Oxford University Press, 2004, Pg. 83

[7] See Berit Brogaard, “Phenomenal Dogmatism, Seeming Evidentialism and Inferential Justification,” in Believing in Accordance with the Evidence, Springer International Publishing, 2018, Kevin McCain editor, Pg. 55

[8] Examples include Richard Fumerton, Metaepistemology and Skepticism, Rowman & Littlefield, 1995; Timothy McGrew and Lydia McGrew, Internalism and Epistemology, Routledge, 2007; Paul K. Moser, Knowledge and Evidence, Cambridge University Press, 1989; Brie Gertler, Self-Knowledge, Routledge, 2011

The Gospels Are Embarrassing for The Apostles

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

By Erik Manning

If you want people to trust their leaders, you usually would try to paint them in the best light possible. You don’t go out of your way to undermine their authority. But that isn’t what we see at all in the Gospels. Those who would eventually lead the church often look impulsive, incompetent, boastful, and stupid. If the Gospels are supposed to be PR for the apostles, their propaganda team was a dismal failure.

This kind of information is what NT scholars call the criteria of embarrassment. In his book, Marginal Jew, Meier writes:

The point of the criterion is that the early church would hardly have gone out of its way to create material that only embarrassed its creator or weakened its position in arguments with opponents.

Marginal Jew

Those Faithless Disciples

Let’s look at the Gospel of Mark since most believe it is the earliest Gospel. Mark tells us that the disciples were often faithless. When encountered by a storm when crossing a lake, the disciples panicked. (Mk 4:35-41) They brazenly accused Jesus of not caring about them, and Jesus rebuked them for not having any faith. They were also terrified to see Jesus walking on the water only two chapters later. (Mk 6:50)

When a man brought his demonized son to his followers, the disciples were too incompetent to give the boy any help. Jesus chided them for their lack of faith. (Mk 9:17-19) Mark also tells us that Jesus’ own family thought that he was nuts. (Mk 3:21) Later we read in Acts, 1 Corinthians, and Galatians that James and Jesus’ other siblings became leaders in the church. (Acts 15, 1 Cor 9:5, Galatians 1-2) So far, the future heads of Jesus’ church look like a sorry bunch.

The Disciples Were Slow

Mark also tells us that the disciples were extremely slow on the uptake. They asked questions about Jesus’ parables that he expected them, of all people, to understand. His main points were often lost on them. (Mk 4:13, 7:18)

Jesus had previously fed a crowd of 5000 and later 4000 with a few loaves and fish. Shortly afterward, Jesus said that they should beware of the leaven of the Pharisees. What did the disciples do in response? They fussed with each other because they forgot to pack bread for their boat trip across the lake. Jesus had to remind them that food was neither his point nor an issue. That should’ve been obvious by then. (Mk 8:14-21)

The Disciples Were Rude

The disciples were notoriously bad-mannered. As I mentioned earlier, they accused Jesus of not caring about them when he was sleeping during the storm. Peter had the genius idea of rebuking Jesus when he said he was going to sacrifice himself. Jesus called Peter Satan in response, so yeah, that didn’t go over big. (Mk 8:31-33)

When people brought small children to be blessed by Jesus, like ogres, his disciples tried to run them off. (Mk 10:13-14) When the woman anointed Jesus’ feet with costly perfume, Mark tells us that “they rebuked her harshly.” Not a smooth move. Jesus emphatically told them to leave her alone. She had more value for Jesus than they all did put together. (Mk 14:4-9)

The disciples fought over who was the greatest, and John and James had the brass to ask Jesus if they could sit at his right and left hand when he came into his kingdom. (Mk 9:33-34, 10:35-37) They clearly didn’t understand the kind of servant-leadership that Jesus was modeling.

The Going Got Tough, The Disciples Ran

In Jesus’ darkest hour, they bragged about being willing to die before abandoning him. (Mk 14:31) While Jesus was praying they all fell asleep. (Mk 14:37-42) And when he was arrested, they all fled. (Mk 14:50) Peter ended up denying him three times when pressed by a servant girl (Mark 14:66-72), and they all were AWOL on the day of the resurrection. (Mk 16:1-9) Even though Jesus repeatedly told them he’d rise again three days later. (Mk 8:31-32, 9:30-32, 10:32-34, 14:28) Even atheist scholars like Gerd Ludemann use the criteria of embarrassment when arguing for the historicity of Peter’s denial. (The Resurrection of Christ, p 162)

Finally, who actually showed up at the tomb? The women (Mk 16:1). They were the first eyewitnesses to the empty tomb. This is itself an embarrassing detail, as a woman’s testimony in the 1st-century context carried very little weight.

“But let not the testimony of women be admitted, on account of the levity and boldness of their sex” … (Josephus, Antiquities, 4.8.15).
“Any evidence which a woman [gives] is not valid (to offer)” … (Talmud, Rosh Hashanah 1.8c).

Luke tells us that the disciples thought the women’s testimony was “nonsense.” They didn’t believe them. (Luke 24:11) 100 years later Celsus would mock the Christians for believing the tales of a hysterical woman. (Contra Celsum 2.54)

Again, if this is supposed to be Christian propaganda to make their leaders look good, or make the resurrection story more plausible, the Gospel writers caused problems for themselves. In the words of scholar NT Wright:

“As historians, we are obliged to comment that if these stories had been made up five years later, let alone thirty, forty, or fifty years later, they would never have had Mary Magdalene in this role. To put Mary there is, from the point of view of Christian apologists wanting to explain to a skeptical audience that Jesus really did rise from the dead, like shooting themselves in the foot. But to us as historians, this kind of thing is gold dust. The early Christians would never, never have made this up.”

The Resurrection of the Son of God

Embarrassing Details In Acts

And it’s not like things are hunky-dory in the Book of Acts, either. You know, that book about the apostles taking over after Jesus. You would think Luke would make them look like they finally got their act together. Instead, we see that Paul and Barnabas got in a big tiff over bringing Mark (the future Gospel writer!) because Mark got homesick and left them in the middle of ministry earlier. (Acts 15:36-40) Mark is later mentioned in Paul’s letters, so apparently, things got patched up later. (Philemon 24)

There was also racist bickering going on in the infant church in Jerusalem because the Hellenized Jewish widows were being neglected in the daily distribution of food. (Acts 6:1)

And even though Jesus told them to take the Gospel to the entire world it took a special vision for Peter to finally understand that it was OK to preach to those unclean Gentiles seemingly years later. (Acts 10)

What Real Christian Propaganda Looks Like

Luke and Mark hardly make the apostles out to be saints. Now compare this to other Christian propaganda. Eusebius wrote a biography of Emperor Constantine that was very charitable, to say the least. He slyly omits that Constantine had his own son Crispus and his other wife Fausta killed. Eusebius instead makes Constantine out to be a super saint. Now that is what real propaganda looks like.

It is hard to imagine the early Christians inventing embarrassments for themselves when they already had enough problems from persecution! And yet, it is difficult to read the Gospel of Mark without getting a negative impression of the apostles. Again, this is the earliest of the Gospels according to most scholars. Eyewitnesses would still be around, including some of the apostles. These negative statements are strong indications that these things were really said. NT scholar C.E.B. Cranfield concludes:

“The fact that the perplexing and offensive material…was preserved at all and reached Mark says much for the general reliability of the sources used by him.”

These self-damaging materials are one more reason why we can trust the Gospels. This kind of evidence doesn’t by itself prove that the Gospels are reliable, but it does lend some support to that view. It’s one part of a much larger cumulative case.

Contradictions In The Life of a Christian

Theology and Christian Apologetics

By Luke Nix

Introduction

The Christian Church is no stranger to hypocrisy. The Church is comprised of sinners who do not always practice what they preach, and sometimes such practice is in stark contradiction to what we preach. Some of the most heinous acts have been committed by Christians while they speak truth. It seems that sexual misconduct within the Church is always on the radar. Ever since I can remember being able to comprehend it, I have been made aware of numerous sexual scandals within the Church. Like just about any person, some have hit close to home and others further away. The ones that are closer to home tend to be particularly devastating- not just physically and emotionally, but spiritually and intellectually.

It is important for those who are affected to hold to a worldview that can objectively condemn such actions and provide healing for the victims. In these emotionally trying situations it is easy to entertain doubts of the truth of Christianity. Today, I want to take a few moments to show how such hypocrisy actually reveals the truth of the Christian worldview and how the Christian worldview offers the only possible answer to hypocrisy.

The Objectivity of Evil

First, a sexual predator’s actions must be called out as objectively evil, not merely something that a group of people do not like or prefer. The claim that what they did was evil is not just an opinion that can be dismissed by those who do not see anything wrong with the actions. That such actions are objectively evil is a feature of reality that must be faced, explained, and answered by every worldview.

No worldview can escape this obligation. No worldview that is missing an anchor for objective morality can provide any meaningful judgment of “evil”- those who hold to these worldviews can only render opinions, which is no more valid or true than the person, who may also hold to the same worldview, who says the actions were “good.” Any worldview that is missing such an anchor is demonstrably defeated by any sexual predator’s actions (whether they are members of a church or not).

The Scars Sin Leaves and The Cost of Moral Agnosticism and Relativism

Every single victim of sexual misconduct, molestation, rape, etc. is created in the Image of God, thus they are intrinsically valuable. Their violation is objectively evil, and justice must be served. The devastation of violations like these take years and even decades for healing to take place, if it even does. These men, women, boys, and girls will bear the scars for the rest of their lives. These scars will stand as a testimony to the truth that objective evil exists.

Any worldview that remains agnostic or ambivalent about the moral status of these actions makes the victims victims over and over again. Worldviews without an anchor for objective morality objectively devalues the violations and raises them to moral equivalency with love, honesty, and integrity. Worldviews that cannot call evil “evil” in any meaningful sense of the word (or for that matter, cannot call good “good” either) encourages the creation of more victims and compounds the suffering of those who are already victims.

Such sins in the life of a Christian demonstrates conclusively that no morally relativistic or agnostic worldview deserves to have a place in a culture, government, or even at the table of intellectual inquiry because it perpetually violates reality by violating the victims time and time again.

What If God Does Not Exist?

Sexual sin is detestable, despicable, and heinous, and we all know that intuitively. The person who commits evil is ultimately, eternally damnable because they have violated the intrinsic worth of a human being created in God’s Image, and by doing so, they have violated the eternal, morally perfect God. God is the only source for morality that is independent of any and all human beings. He alone is the anchor that allows anyone to objectively identify such actions as morally “evil.”

Simply put, if God does not exist, then nothing that these Christians did is evil. Nothing that they do is worth condemnation or even discussion since they are merely dancing to their DNA- the victims will continue to be victims because they are not really “victims” of anything good or evil. This is not to say that someone has to believe that God exists to condemn a Christian’s sexual violations; rather this is to say that it is only because God does exist that even an atheist can accurately condemn such actions as objectively evil. If God does not exist, not even the theist can condemn sexual abuse as objectively evil.

The Cognitive and Emotional Dissonance of Evil

When the stories of a perpetrator’s heinous acts are recounted, the moral law that is written on all our hearts will emotionally and powerfully rise to the surface. The emotions we feel are not there merely because we feel that these actions are evil, but because they objectively are evil, and our outrage is a most appropriate reaction to such violations. The head and the heart, logic and emotion, converge in perfect harmony to reveal the truth of reality and the truth of God’s existence. Unless God exists, a person’s “evil” deeds bring nothing but cognitive and emotional dissonance.

Actions Speak Louder Than Words

If the grotesque moral failings of ministers of the Gospel are to serve any purpose, it is to attempt to shock our culture back from its moral and intellectual stupor and remind us of the contradiction in every Christian life. But in stark contrast to every Christian, in God there is no contradiction: not in His actions and not in His words. We all long for someone to be fully consistent with what they say and what they do. But this simply will not happen when we look to man, even Christian leaders. We should not be surprised when ministers of the Gospel morally fail. We should be surprised that despite the evidence all around us of humanity’s fallenness that we still try to look to humanity for perfect consistency.

Rather, we must look to the morally perfect Creator, against whom every human has sinned. This God loves us and desires an infinite, personal relationship with us so much that he became one of us to take upon Himself our sins and the wrath that we deserve because of our sin. Justice was served for every sin we could ever commit when Jesus Christ died on the cross. And in His bodily resurrection from the dead, we have forgiveness (1 Cor 15). The resurrection of Jesus provides us proof of the truth of His claim to be the Creator God of the universe- the Way, the Truth, the Life, without whom no one can come to the Father (John 14:6).

Conclusion- My Two Prayers

Sin, hypocrisy and betrayal in the life of any Christian minister does not demonstrate or even indicate that Christianity is false. Rather the opposite is the case: they provide severe tests of a worldview against reality, which Christianity alone passes. Christianity never makes the claim that Christians will be perfect; in fact, it makes the contradictory claim: that Christians can and still do heinously evil things. This is the reality that we live in, that we are a part of, and that Christianity uniquely, among all the worldviews of history, accurately describes. It is only through Christ that the sinner is healed, that the victim is healed, and that both can be reconciled to God.

It is my prayer that all victims will find understanding ears in today’s culture- people who recognize, validate and anchor the objectivity of the evil and suffering they endure, people who recognize that full healing can only be found at the Cross.

It is also my prayer that as more revelations of moral failings within the Church come, that it will cause unbelievers to consider the foundations of their moral outrage, investigate the evidence, and realize that they too are in need of Christ’s atonement, forgiveness and Resurrection.

Finally, remember that it is not Christ who has failed us; it is members of His Church who have failed us. It is time that we stop misplacing our trust in people and start properly placing our trust where the evidence tells us it should have been in the first place: in Christ. I implore you to follow the moral, philosophical, historical, and scientific evidence where it leads: surrender your life fully and completely to Christ to find both healing and forgiveness.

Luke Nix holds a bachelor’s degree in Computer Science and works as a Desktop Support Manager for a local precious metal exchange company in Oklahoma.

Original Blog Source: https://cutt.ly/Pm5hRad

July 26, 2021/by Guest

The Historicity of the Feeding of the Five Thousand: An Appraisal of the Evidence

3. Are Miracles Possible?, Theology and Christian Apologetics

It is one of the most iconic incidents in Jesus’ life. We are all familiar with the famous story of Jesus miraculously feeding the five thousand from five loaves and two fish, with no fewer than twelve basketfuls of leftovers. The story is recounted by all four gospel writers: Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John. But just how historical is this story? In this article, I attempt to highlight several lines of evidence which, when taken as a cumulative whole, strongly suggest that these reports are rooted in a real historical event. I attempt to show this by virtue of appeal to undesigned coincidences, reconcilable variations, and other telltale markers of independence and verisimilitude. What I hope to demonstrate is that the feeding of the five thousand is the second-best attested New Testament miracle, after the resurrection of Jesus. For many of the insights that follow, I am indebted to my friend and colleague Dr. Lydia McGrew, both through her writing, and through her direction towards Christian authors from times past (such as Paley, Blunt, and Birks) who identified many of these hallmarks of verisimilitude in the gospel accounts.

Undesigned Coincidences Relating to the Feeding of the Five Thousand

An undesigned coincidence occurs when you have two or more accounts that casually interlock in a way that points to the truth of both. In its most classic form, one account of an event may raise a natural question that is answered incidentally and casually by the other. Much like a puzzle, it fits like a hand into a glove. This is not at all the type of pattern that one would expect to see in the event of some kind of conspiratorial manufacturing of the story. When taken as a cumulative argument — many instances considered collectively — one has a powerful argument for the overall general reliability and integrity of the gospel narratives. I will now offer a handful of examples pertaining to the feeding of the five thousand narratives.

The Role of Philip

In John 6:1-7, we are told:

Some time after this, Jesus crossed to the far shore of the Sea of Galilee (that is, the Sea of Tiberias), and a great crowd of people followed him because they saw the signs he had performed by healing the sick. Then Jesus went up on a mountainside and sat down with his disciples. The Jewish Passover Festival was near. When Jesus looked up and saw a great crowd coming toward him, he said to Philip, “Where shall we buy bread for these people to eat?” He asked this only to test him, for he already had in mind what he was going to do. Philip answered him, “It would take more than half a year’s wages to buy enough bread for each one to have a bite!”

Now, Philip is a fairly minor character in the New Testament. And one might, naturally, be inclined to wonder why Jesus hasn’t turned to someone a little higher in the pecking order (such as Peter or John). Perhaps even Judas Iscariot would have been a more suitable choice for this role in the account since John informs us elsewhere that he was responsible for the money bag (Jn 13:29).

A partial clue is provided in John 1:44: “Philip, like Andrew and Peter, was from the town of Bethsaida.” Likewise, John 12:21 refers to “Philip, who was from Bethsaida in Galilee.” What is so significant about Philip being from the town of Bethsaida? We don’t learn this until we read the parallel account in Luke’s gospel (9:10-17). At the opening of the account (verses 10-11), we are told,

“When the apostles returned, they reported to Jesus what they had done. Then he took them with him and they withdrew by themselves to a town called Bethsaida, but the crowds learned about it and followed him. He welcomed them and spoke to them about the kingdom of God, and healed those who needed healing.”

And so, we are informed by Luke (who does not mention Philip in this context at all) that the event was actually taking place in Bethsaida — the town from which Philip was from! Jesus thus turns to Philip, whom, he believed, would be familiar with the area. This also perhaps illuminates the involvement of Andrew (who was also from Bethsaida — Jn 1:44) in the reply. Andrew says to Jesus in John 6:9, “There is a boy here who has five barley loaves and two fish, but what are they for so many?” One may conjecture that Andrew, being from Bethsaida where this miracle took place, knew the boy, or perhaps Jesus had directed his question to Philip and Andrew, both of whom were locals.

The reason for Jesus addressing Philip in John 6:5 is never explicitly spelled out in the text. Instead, one has to do the detective work of piecing together the clues drawn from John 6:5; John 12:21 (and 1:44); and Luke 9:10-17. This is precisely the sort of casual connection between accounts that one might expect to see in historical reportage, though it is more surprising given the hypothesis of fictionalization.

The Green Grass, and the Coming and Going Crowds

Curiously, Mark’s narrative describes the people as sitting down in groups on “the green grass” (verse 39). This is significant, not because Mark mentions people sitting on the grass (Matthew 14:19 also records people sitting “down on the grass”, and Luke 9:15 reports that “everyone sat down”, and John 6:10 notes that “There was plenty of grass in that place, and they sat down.”). It is significant because Mark reports that the grass was “green”. This is particularly intriguing when one considers that, in Israel (particularly in Galilee) the grass is brown!

What makes this even more intriguing is that Mark’s gospel (6:30-42) also states, in verses 30-31 that,

The apostles gathered around Jesus and reported to him all they had done and taught. Then, because so many people were coming and going that they did not even have a chance to eat, he said to them, “Come with me by yourselves to a quiet place and get some rest.

Mark casually alludes to there being many people coming and going, indicating the hustle and bustle and general business of the area during this time. But why were there many coming and going? Mark does not tell us. In John’s account, however (6:4), we are told that “The Jewish Passover Festival was near.” This explains why many people were “coming and going.” Moreover, during the season of the Passover (i.e. in the springtime), there is a small window where the grass is indeed green in that area, due to elevated levels of rainfall. When this is coupled with the detail given to us by John that the Passover festival was at hand, this illuminates and makes sense of the casual (but surprising) statements in Mark that the grass was green and that people were coming and going.

Counting the Number of People

A question that arises when one reads the accounts of the feeding of the five thousand is how the evangelists knew the number of people. Matthew’s account emphasizes that this number specifically refers to men: “And those who ate were about five thousand men, besides women and children” (Mt 14:21). Mark 6:44, Luke 9:14, and John 6:10 also indicate that it was five thousand men who were fed (though the phrase “besides women and children” is unique to Matthew). But how was this number estimated? According to Mark 6:39-40, “Then he commanded them all to sit down in groups on the green grass. So they sat down in groups, by hundreds and by fifties.” Likewise, Luke 9:14-15 indicates that “he said to his disciples, ‘Have them sit down in groups of about fifty each.’ And they did so, and had them all sit down.’” Having the people organized into groups would have doubtless made it easier to distribute the food, and it would also provide a means of arriving at an estimate of their number.

How, though, were the evangelists able to determine that there were five thousand men specifically, besides women and children? John’s gospel, which omits mention of the organization of the people into groups, provides an important clue. In John 6:10-11, we are told, “Jesus said, ‘Have the people sit down.’ Now there was much grass in the place. So the men sat down, about five thousand in number. Jesus then took the loaves, and when he had given thanks, he distributed them to those who were seated. So also the fish, as much as they wanted.” Thus, like Mark and Luke, John informs us that Jesus told the disciples to have the people sit down in groups. However, John uniquely tells us that it was the men who in fact sat down. This, then, illuminates, in a casual and incidental way, how the number of men could be reliably estimated.

Denouncing the Unrepentant Cities

In Matthew 11:21, Jesus denounces the unrepentant cities, saying, “Woe to you, Chorazin! Woe to you, Bethsaida! For if the miracles that were performed in you had been performed in Tyre and Sidon, they would have repented long ago in sackcloth and ashes.” The reader is left wondering what miracles were performed in these cities. We are not told in Matthew’s gospel. It is only in light of Luke’s account of the feeding of the five thousand (chapter 9), in which we are told of the event’s occurrence in Bethsaida, that this statement begins to make sense. Although Matthew 14:13-21 does narrate the feeding of the five thousand, no mention is made of Bethsaida. Furthermore, Matthew, who often arranged his material thematically rather than chronologically, gives his account of the feeding of the five thousand some three chapters subsequent to the pronouncement of woe upon Bethsaida. Only by comparing the account in Luke do we discover that the feeding of the five thousand in fact transpired before the woes were pronounced by Jesus upon Bethsaida.

Strikingly, not only is Luke’s mention of Bethsaida as the location of the feeding found in a different context from the woes; it is found in an apparently unrelated context — that is, the pericope in which it occurs has absolutely nothing to do with the feeding of the five thousand. Jesus simply refers generally to the mighty deeds performed in Chorazin and Bethsaida. There is nothing in the immediate context to suggest that Jesus is making an allusion to the feeding of the five thousand. Indeed, the fact that Matthew contains no information about any miracle performed in Chorazin undermines the idea that the reason Luke mentions Bethsaida as the setting of the feeding of the five thousand miracle is to fill in the missing information in relation to Jesus’ statement in Matthew 11:21.

The Messianic Secret

Throughout the synoptic accounts, Jesus often sternly warns people not to publicly disclose His identity. In scholarly circles, this is known as the “messianic secret.” We also see Jesus frequently seeking to avoid large crowds. Those features of Jesus’ behavior are illuminated by John 6:15, which immediately follows the account of the feeding of the five thousand, in which we read, “Perceiving then that they were about to come and take him by force to make him king, Jesus withdrew again to the mountain by himself.” Given the popular Messianic expectation of an individual who would overthrow the Roman occupiers and re-establish a Davidic reign, Jesus naturally feared that public disclosure of His Messianic identity would result in misunderstandings and attempts by the crowds to make Him King by force. Thus, John 6:15 explains the Messianic secret in the Synoptics.

Eating Jesus’ Flesh and Drinking His Blood?

Another coincidence pertains to Jesus’ statements, prompted by the episode of the feeding of the five thousand, in John 6:51-58:

I am the living bread that came down from heaven. If anyone eats of this bread, he will live forever. And the bread that I will give for the life of the world is my flesh […] Truly, truly, I say to you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you. Whoever feeds on my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him up on the last day. For my flesh is true food, and my blood is true drink. Whoever feeds on my flesh and drinks my blood abides in me, and I in him. As the living Father sent me, and I live because of the Father, so whoever feeds on me, he also will live because of me. This is the bread that came down from heaven, not like the bread the fathers ate, and died. Whoever feeds on this bread will live forever.

These words of Jesus, in my judgment, are especially likely to be authentic for at least three different reasons. First, particularly given the Jewish context (recall that the fourth gospel, in which these sayings uniquely are found, was evidently authored by a Jew), this is an exceedingly unlikely thing for the author to make up out of whole cloth. In fact, many of Jesus’ followers, in verse 60, said “This is a hard saying; who can listen to it?” Verse 66 further indicates that “After this many of his disciples turned back and no longer walked with him.” Second, Jesus’ allusion to the loaves that the crowd had eaten (see verse 26), as the basis of his teaching is in keeping with Jesus’ consistent habit across all four gospels (and across diverse episodes) of drawing lessons from his surroundings and from the occasion (this is an instance of what I call “artless similarities”, which I have discussed in more detail in this article). Third, these sayings are supported by an undesigned coincidence. Jesus’ language in this passage (which is found only in John, and not in the Synoptics) is strikingly similar to His institution of the Lord’s supper (which is found in all three of the Synoptics, but not in John). Here are the words of institution, as given by Luke 22:19-20: “This is my body, which is given for you. Do this in remembrance of me…This cup that is poured out for you is the new covenant in my blood.” Lydia McGrew suggests that[1],

Jesus was speaking of the Lord’s supper in John 6, not in the sense that the crowds were expected to understand this at that time by his teaching, but in the sense that he was alluding cryptically to something that he would make clearer later to those who continued to follow him. This sort of veiled allusion would hardly be uncharacteristic of Jesus’ teaching as we find it elsewhere. For example, his words to Nicodemus about the Holy Spirit in John 3 would not have been clear to Nicodemus at the time but would have become much clearer in the light of Pentecost. The statement, “Destroy this Temple, and in three days I will raise it up” recorded in John 2:19 is glossed by John in hindsight, as referring to the resurrection, but Jesus himself apparently did not explain it at the time.

It is important to remember that the institution of the Lord’s supper is mentioned only in the Synoptics, and Jesus’ strange statements about eating His flesh and drinking His blood is found only in John. McGrew concludes that “he spoke this way in John 6 in anticipation of instituting the Lord’s Supper at the end of his ministry, expecting his followers to put it all together later if they persevered in discipleship (as contrasted with those who fell away in John 6.66-67).”[2]

Other Markers of Verisimilitude

John James Blunt notes the consistent distinction that is maintained between the number and kinds of leftover baskets that were collected in the two events[3]:

[T]here was, no doubt, a marked difference between these two vessels, whatever that difference might be, for κόφινος is invariably used when the miracle of the five thousand is spoken of; and σπυρίς is invariably used when the miracle of the four thousand is spoken of. Moreover, such distinction is clearly suggested to us in Matt. xvi. 9, 10, where our Savior cautions his disciples against the “leaven of the Pharisees and Sadducees” and in so doing, alludes to each of these miracles thus: “Do ye not understand, neither remember the five loaves of the five thousand, and how many baskets (κοφίνους) ye took up? Neither the seven loaves of the four thousand, and how many baskets (σπυρίδας) ye took up?” though here, again, the distinction is entirely lose in our translation, both [words] being still rendered “basket” alike.

This distinction between the words used for “basket” (κόφινος vs. σπυρίς) is also maintained in the parallel account of Jesus’ rebuke in Mark 8:19-20.

Blunt concludes[4],

[S]uch uniformity mark[s] very clearly the two miracles to be distinctly impressed on the minds of the Evangelists, as real events; the circumstantial peculiarities of each present to them, even to the shape of the baskets, as though they were themselves actual eyewitnesses; or at least had received their report from those who were so. It is next impossible that such coincidence in both cases, between the fragments and the receptacles, respectively, should have been preserved by chance; or by a teller of a tale at third or fourth hand; and accordingly we see that the coincidence is in fact entirely lost by our translators, who were not witnesses of the miracles; and whose attention did not happen to be drawn to the point.

Interestingly, the same word for basket that is used for the feeding of the four thousand (σπυρίς) is also used of the basket used to lower Saul over the wall in Damascus (Acts 9:25). This suggests that these baskets were quite large, which explains why there were fewer leftover baskets collected for this event (seven compared to the twelve baskets collected after the feeding of the five thousand).

Reconcilable Variations

Another category of evidence bearing on the case for the resurrection is the phenomenon of reconcilable variations, so-named by the nineteenth-century Anglican scholar Thomas Rawson Birks.[5] A reconcilable variation refers to when there exist two accounts of the same event or at least two accounts that appear to cross over the same territory at some point, and at first blush, they seem so divergent that it is almost awkward; but then, on further thought, they turn out to be reconcilable in some natural fashion after all. When two accounts appear at first so divergent that one is not sure they can be reconciled, that is significant evidence for their independence. When they turn out, upon closer inspection or upon learning more information, to be reconcilable without forcing, after all, one has almost certainly independent accounts that dovetail. A few examples pertain to the feeding of the five thousand accounts.

Is Mark Confused About the Location?

According to Luke 9:10, the event of the feeding of the five thousand took place in Bethsaida. However, according to Mark 6:45, following the feeding of the five thousand miracle, Mark tells us,

Immediately he made his disciples get into the boat and go before him to the other side, to Bethsaida, while he dismissed the crowd.

This presents an apparent discrepancy. If Jesus and the disciples were already in Bethsaida, why does he tell his disciples to get into the boat and go to the other side of the lake, to Bethsaida? At first blush, this certainly seems to be a clear-cut instance of a contradiction between the accounts. The first thing to note is that we have independent confirmation that the event occurred in a deserted area near Bethsaida, based on two of the undesigned coincidences noted above. Thus, there are good historical grounds for believing that the event in fact took place in Bethsaida.

There is yet further confirmation of the location of the miracle as being somewhere “across the top” of the Sea of Galilee from Capernaum. It is Mark himself who says that they didn’t even have leisure to eat before the feeding, because there were “many coming and going” (Mark 6:31), and that they got into the boat to get away from the crowds. That fits well with their being in the region of Capernaum prior to going away. There is still a further undesigned coincidence involved there which connects Mark and John, also discussed above. It was just before the Passover (John 6:4), and there would have been crowds coming through Capernaum, travelling down to Jerusalem. Thus, the picture is well-explained by their going from the Capernaum region (on the top west coat of the Sea of Galilee) across the top of the region around Bethsaida, and then, when they returned “to the other side”, returned to the northwest side. In fact, Mark explicitly says that they landed at Gennesaret when they had crossed over (Mark 6:53)! Thus, this actually, far from contradicting, confirms the idea of which direction they were going. If they were really crossing over “to Bethsaida” as if to land at or near Bethsaida, they couldn’t have landed at Gennesaret! Thus, πρὸς Βηθσαϊδάν, even within Mark itself, cannot be taken to mean that the feeding of the five thousand occurred in a radically different location from the region of Bethsaida named explicitly in Luke and otherwise confirmed by undesigned coincidences. Therefore, there is good reason to believe that the feeding of the five thousand miracle took place in Bethsaida.

This still leaves unanswered the question of what Mark means in 6:45. The Greek text says that the disciples were to enter into the boat and προάγειν εἰς τὸ πέραν πρὸς Βηθσαϊδάν. Lydia McGrew argues that the Greek preposition πρὸς can mean “over against” (or “across from”).[6] However, I am at this point unpersuaded by this translation. While one of the possible meanings of πρὸς is “against” (e.g. Mt 4:6; Mk 12:12; Lk 4:11; 20:19; Acts 6:1; 9:29; 19:38; 23:30; 24:19; 26:14), I have been unable to find any instances, in either the New Testament or the Greek Septuagint, where the preposition unequivocally means geographically “opposite to”, as would be required by McGrew’s interpretation.

Another possibility is that, in going over to the other side (to the Capernaum side) they were going to pass Bethsaida — that is, that the actual location of the feeding was slightly to the east of Bethsaida itself (recall that the event actually took place at a desolate area, in proximity to Bethsaida — Mt 14:13; Mk 6:32; Lk 9:12). Indeed, the stated location of Bethsaida, I would argue, is being used in a regional sense (in the same way that I might say I live in Boston even though technically I live in a suburb of Boston). Hence, when they left in Mark to go to the other side, they could have been going “toward” Bethsaida, which would be a legitimate understanding of the preposition πρὸς.

A yet further option, though incompatible with inerrancy (see my article here for those who are concerned about this), is that Mark’s source, quite plausibly the apostle Peter, misspoke a single word when reporting the event. This is not antecedently implausible. Misspeaking a single word on occasion is something that anyone experienced in public speaking is all too familiar with.

Whatever the actual explanation, this apparent discrepancy points to the literary independence of Mark and Luke.

Mark Goodacre has put forward a theory of “editorial fatigue” in the gospels.[7] Goodacre argues that editorial fatigue is “a phenomenon that will inevitably occur when a writer is heavily dependent on another’s work. In telling the same story as his predecessor, a writer makes changes in the early stages which he is unable to sustain throughout.” [3] Goodacre claims that the best example of this phenomenon pertains to the feeding of the five thousand accounts. He cites Mark 6:35-36 and the parallel in Luke 9:12.

Mark 6:35-36: And when it grew late, his disciples came to him and said, “This is a desolate place, and the hour is now late. Send them away to go into the surrounding countryside and villages and buy themselves something to eat.”
Luke 9:12: Now the day began to wear away, and the twelve came and said to him, “Send the crowd away to go into the surrounding villages and countryside to find lodging and get provisions, for we are here in a desolate place.”

Goodacre comments,

The adjective used by both Mark and Luke is ερημος, lonely, desolate, abandoned. Clearly it is nonsense to say ‘we are here in a desolate place’ when in the Lucan setting they are not. After all, if the crowd were in a city, they would not need to go to the surrounding villages and countryside to find food and lodging. Further, since in Bethsaida food and lodging ought to be close to hand, Luke’s comment that the day was drawing to a close lacks any relevance and, consequently, the feeding lacks the immediate motive that it has in Mark. In short, by relocating the Feeding of the Five Thousand, without being able to sustain the new setting with its fresh implications throughout, Luke has spoilt the story.

This argument, in my opinion, is exceedingly weak. Goodacre has succeeded in creating a problem where there isn’t one. The disciples’ statement concerning the surrounding places where the people could go to purchase food indicates that the “desolate place” was not far from those surrounding villages and countryside. As stated previously, the stated location of Bethsaida is being used in a regional sense. This is the most natural way of reading Luke’s account. Furthermore, Matthew — which most scholars agree was independent of Luke, though utilizing at times common source material — also indicates that they were in a desolate place (Mt 14:13,15). Furthermore, there is also the independent evidence, discussed above, that the location of the feeding of the five thousand as indicated by Luke is correct.

Where did Jesus first see the crowd?

In Mark’s account, the narrative concerning the feeding of the five thousand begins with the disciples returning from a preaching ministry to tell Jesus “all that they had done and taught” (Mk 6:30). Given the business of the place, Jesus told the disciples to “Come away by yourselves to a desolate place and rest a while.” (v. 31). However, “many saw them going and recognized them, and they ran there on food from all the towns and got there ahead of them,” (v. 33). That the people were able to run on ahead of Jesus on foot and arrive before him fits well with the size of the Sea of Galilee, which is only seven miles wide at its widest point. The people came and met Jesus as he was getting out of the boat. Mark tells us that “When he went ashore he saw a great crowd” (v. 34).

Compare this with the account in John 6. John doesn’t mention the disciples’ preaching ministry and their coming to report to Jesus what they had done and taught. Nor does John report Jesus’ instruction to “come away by yourselves to a desolate place and rest a while.” However, John does indicate that Jesus went to the other side of the Sea of Galilee, which John calls by its other name, the Sea of Tiberius (v. 1). According to John, there was a large crowd following Jesus “because they saw the signs that he was doing on the sick” (v. 2). Jesus went up on a mountain and lifted up his eyes and saw the crowd coming toward Him (v. 5). If one were to only read John’s account, one would get the impression that Jesus had gone up to the mountainside with His disciples, and it was only then that He saw the crowd that had been following Him. Note that all four gospels mention the mountain in this region (Mt 14:23; Mk 6:46; Lk 9:28; Jn 6:3). Mark, speaking of the crowd that had followed Jesus, says that Jesus “had compassion on them, because they were like sheep without a shepherd. And he began to teach them many things” (Mk 6:34). In Matthew’s account, we read that “he had compassion on them and healed their sick” (Mt 14:14). In Luke, it mentions both that Jesus “spoke to them of the kingdom of God” and that he “cured those who had need of healing” (Lk 6:11). Thus, we are to picture Jesus having been with the crowd for some time prior to the feeding event. In the synoptics, we are told that when it was getting late, they discussed where to find food for the crowd of people. John, however, does not mention the earlier part of the day. It seems, then, that the crowds converged on him while He had slipped away with His disciples. John’s emphasis, though, is on the feeding through the miraculous multiplication of loaves and fish. The fact that these accounts, which appear upon first blush to contradict one another, fit together so casually reveals the independence of the accounts.

Did Jesus go up the mountain before or after the disciples left in a boat?

A final apparent discrepancy concerns the question of whether Jesus went up into the mountain to escape the crowds and pray following the feeding of the five thousand before or after the disciples left in a boat. John 6:15-16 implies that it was before the disciples left in a boat, whereas Mark 6:45 says that “he made his disciples get into the boat and go before him to the other side, toward Bethsaida, while he dismissed the crowd.” The synoptics, however, do not state that Jesus escorted the disciples down to the boat and then went up the mountain. Rather, the gospels simply report that Jesus instructed them to get into the boat and go over to the other side. The instruction could have been given some distance from the shoreline. Indeed, it plausibly could have taken them some time to winnow their way through the crowd and reach the shoreline. Perhaps they could even hear Jesus dismissing the crowds, or Jesus could have informed them of His intentions.

John’s record of events does not in fact conflict with what we read in Mark, if one reads these events as occurring in a somewhat intertwined manner. It is quite conceivable that John’s mind was following the course of Jesus’ actions, and is picturing, as it got dark, the disciples approaching the shore and getting into the boat. That, however, does not entail that Jesus in fact went up the mountain first. Mark (or his source, plausibly Peter), on the other hand, may be thinking of the urgency of Jesus sending them away. If this is the case, then it is not particularly surprising to find the evangelists describing the events in a slightly different order.

Again, this is precisely what one might expect of independent eyewitness accounts.

Other Marks of Independence

In addition to the foregoing, there are also various other marks of independence. Only John mentions the boy, and that they were barley loaves (Jn 6:9), which fits with the time of year, being near the Passover. Only John mentions that it was Andrew who brought the boy forward (Jn 6:8). Only John mentions the other name of the Sea of Galilee (the Sea of Tiberius), a name that we can confirm from other sources (Jn 6:1). Only John records how far the disciples had rowed when they saw Jesus coming towards him, which is given as an imprecise measurement of twenty-five or thirty stadia, or about three or four miles (Jn 6:19). Matthew and Luke both mention that Jesus healed people (Mt 14:14; Lk 6:11), a detail not supplied by Mark. Only Mark mentions that the disciples landed at Gennesaret (Mk 6:53). This fits with the account in John, which says that they set off for Capernaum (Jn 6:17). One could even view this connection as an undesigned coincidence between Mark and John. Matthew alone mentions that the reason for Jesus leaving with His disciples was that Jesus heard about the death of John the Baptist (Mt 14:13). This is at variance, though compatible, with the statement in Mark 6:31 that it was to get away from the crowds that Jesus instructed the disciples to retreat to a desolate area. The disciples, who witnessed the event, would have been able to draw their own conclusions about what had triggered Jesus’ desire to leave for a desolate place. Finally, only Matthew includes the account of Peter’s request that Jesus ask him to walk toward Him on the water (Mt 14:28-31). This reflects Peter’s impulsive nature, a character trait that is consistent across all four gospels and across diverse episodes (see my article on artless similarities for further discussion of the evidential significance of this).

Conclusion

To conclude, I would argue that the feeding of the five thousand event is the second best attested New Testament miracle after the resurrection. This is, in part, because it is attested in all four gospels and the parallel texts show numerous indicators of independence and verisimilitude, including undesigned coincidences and reconcilable variations. Cumulatively, these indicators strongly suggest that the accounts of the feeding of the five thousand are grounded in a genuine historical event in the ministry of Jesus and contribute to the case for the gospels’ overall reliability.

Footnotes

[1] Lydia McGrew, Hidden in Plain View: Undesigned Coincidences in the Gospels and Acts (Tampa, FL: Deward Publishing Company, Ltd, 2017), 42.

[2] Ibid., 43.

[3] John James Blunt, Undesigned Coincidences in the Writings Both of the Old and New Testament: An Argument of Their Veracity (London: John Murray, 1863), 264.

[4] Ibid., 265.

[5] Thomas Rawson Birks, Horae Evangelicae, or The Internal Evidence of the Gospel History (London: Seeleys, 1852). See also Lydia McGrew, The Mirror or the Mask: Liberating the Gospels from Literary Devices (Tampa, FL: Deward Publishing Company, Ltd, 2019), 316–321.

[6] Lydia McGrew, Hidden in Plain View: Undesigned Coincidences in the Gospels and Acts (Tampa, FL: Deward Publishing Company, Ltd, 2017), 22.

[7] Mark Goodacre, “Fatigue in the Synoptics,” New Testament Studies 44 (1998), 45-58.

Resurrection Defense Series: Transformation of Eyewitnesses

Jesus Christ, Theology and Christian Apologetics

By Brian Chilton

One of the most fascinating historical aspects of Jesus’s resurrection is the transformation it brought to individuals who claimed to have experienced the risen Jesus. Interestingly, these experiences occurred so early that Richard Bauckham contends that the “earliest Christology was already in nuce the highest Christology. All that remained was to work through consistently what it could mean for Jesus to belong integrally to the unique identity of the one God.”[1] Of the minimal facts accepted, Gary Habermas notes that the four “core” facts accepted about Jesus consist of Jesus’s death by crucifixion, the experiences the disciples had which led them to believe that Jesus had risen from the dead, the transformation of the disciples, and the conversion of Paul.[2] Thus, the transformation of the disciples occurred early in the history of the church and, thereby, holds tremendous value for the historical researcher. These experiences profoundly impacted the disciples’ theology—accepting that Jesus was now exalted to a “position of heavenly glory”[3]—and even emboldened them to the point that they were willing to die for what they knew to be true. The resurrection appearances of Jesus profoundly affected four men which will be the focus of this article.

Transformation of the Troubled Peter

While Peter was excited to see the risen Jesus to the point that he willingly jumped out of a boat and swam to shore just to see Jesus (John 21:7), he was dealing with his own inner turmoil. In the courtyard during Jesus’s trial, Peter had denied that he had known Jesus three times to a woman who served as the high priest’s maid (John 18:25-27). Jesus had already prognosticated Peter’s denial beforehand which led Peter to a time of great despair and agony (Luke 22:61). Peter must have thought that Jesus would never use him again for ministry. Why would Jesus ever trust him again? However, multiple pieces of evidence suggest that Jesus appeared to Peter privately (Mark 16:7; Luke 24:12; and 1 Cor. 15:5). Yet the story of Peter’s ministerial transformation comes from an encounter he had with the risen Jesus on the shores of the Sea of Galilee. While eating breakfast by a fire on the seashore, Jesus asked Peter three times if he loved him (John 21:15-19). Peter acknowledged that he did. The risen Jesus reinstated Peter back into the ministry. After his encounter with Jesus on the coast—the third time that Jesus had met exclusively with the disciples after his resurrection—Peter never again denied that he knew Jesus. Rather, he boldly proclaimed Jesus up until the time that he died for Christ. Church tradition holds that he was crucified upside down at Rome in c. AD 64 because he did not feel worthy to die in the same manner as Jesus. This was documented by historian Eusebius of Caesarea[4] and Origen of Alexandria.

Transformation of the Skeptical Thomas

Thomas had followed Jesus from the very beginning of Jesus’s ministry. Oddly, he was not found with the disciples when Jesus first appeared to them (John 20:24-25). Where was Thomas when Jesus first appeared to the disciples? Had he given up on the ministry? Did he seek to reopen his old business, whatever that may have been? No one could not blame Thomas as he had just witnessed his leader crucified to a tree. His investment in Jesus died when Jesus’s corpse was placed in a tomb—or so he thought. Regardless of his activities, he doubted the validity of the disciples’ claim that Jesus had risen from the dead. Again, no one could blame Thomas for his skepticism. While different Jewish sects held divergent opinions concerning the Messiah, none of them anticipated that the Messiah would rise from the dead before the end of time. Additionally, dead people do not normally rise from the dead. Thomas was justified in his disbelief. However, everything changed when Thomas encountered the risen Jesus. Jesus challenged Thomas to place his fingers in the nail prints of his hands and to thrust his hand into Jesus’s side (John 20:27-29). Then, Jesus challenged Thomas by saying, “Because you have seen me, you have believed. Blessed are those who have not seen and yet believe” (John 20:29).

Thomas did not remain “doubting Thomas.” Rather, he became “believing Thomas.” According to tradition and the apocryphal Acts of Thomas, the church cast lots to see which part of the world each disciple would serve. Thomas’s lot would lead him to India. The disciple would encounter the kings of the region and would not have the best relationship with them. The wife of King Misdaeus converted to Christianity to the king’s disdain. The king’s wife disobeyed him and instead followed apostolic Christianity which enraged the king. Eventually, the king ordered Thomas’s execution in Madras, India. While not all the information about Thomas’s ministry in India can be verified, it does appear that there are good reasons to believe that Thomas died in some manner for his faith while in India.[5]

Transformation of the Envious James

“Envious James” is used for this section, but it is merely one possibility to describe why James did not believe in Jesus during his earthly ministry. The Gospels note that the brothers and sisters of Jesus did not initially believe in him (John 7:5). However, James later had a change of heart to the point that he served as the pastor of the Jerusalem Church. What happened? The 1 Corinthians 15 creed lists James as one of those who witnessed the risen Jesus. James’s life was radically transformed because of the resurrection. The Jewish historian Josephus records the later martyrdom of James the brother of Jesus. He writes,

“Festus was now dead, and Albinus was but upon the road; so he assembled the Sanhedrin of judges, and brought before them the brother of Jesus, who was called Christ, whose name was James, and some others … and when he had formed an accusation against them as breakers of the law, he delivered them to be stoned.”[6]

Like Peter and Thomas, the resurrection transformed James to the point that he was willing to give his life for the Jesus that he previously spurned. The resurrection changed James’s negative connotations about Jesus into worship. Quite an extraordinary thing, don’t you think?

Transformation of the Adversary Paul

Paul’s transformation is the most popular of the four. Paul, otherwise known as Saul, was a persecutor of the church. He was a Pharisee of Pharisees, a disciple of the famed Gamaliel (Acts 22:3), and on track to become a member of the Sanhedrin. Yet Paul was dramatically changed on a road trip to Damascus. Paul had hoped to imprison or even murder the disciples of Jesus (Acts 9:1). He had written permission by the Jewish authorities to imprison any disciple of Jesus in Damascus and bring them back to Jerusalem for trial (Acts 9:2). As Paul made his march to Damascus, the risen Jesus appeared to Paul in a dazzling array of power. The risen Jesus inquired, “Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting me?” (Acts 9:4). Jesus identified himself and instructed Paul to go into the city. From that moment, Paul became a disciple of Christ. The disciples were not overly keen on the idea of accepting Paul into their fold. They thought that Paul was staging a sabotage. But as the risen Jesus told Ananias, “This man is my chosen instrument to take my name to the Gentiles, kings, and Israelites” (Acts 9:15).

Paul would suffer for the cause of Christ as he endured many hardships throughout his lifetime. Nonetheless, he endured until the very end. Tradition holds that Paul was beheaded in Rome around the same time that Peter died by crucifixion. This is verified by Tertullian, implying that Paul was considered a martyr by the end of the second century at least in northern Africa.[7] In his seminal work, McDowell lists Paul’s death as “the highest possible probability”[8] and that the beheading of Paul is “more probable than not.”[9]

Conclusion

From the four individuals listed, it is evident that the resurrection of Jesus brought about a major transformation in the lives of those who encountered the risen Jesus. Furthermore, the loving compassion of Jesus is shown by the way he forgave Peter of his past indiscretions, his willingness to provide evidence to the skeptic, his willingness to bring in even those of his family who had hurt him in the past, and the powerful means by which he accepted even the repentance of his former enemies. The risen Jesus continues to transform lives even today. Only eternity will tell how many souls have been transformed by this mysterious, powerful, and loving Savior who continues to seek and save the lost.

Notes

[1] Richard Bauckham, Jesus and the God of Israel: God Crucified and Other Studies on the New Testament’s Christology of Divine Identity (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2009), 235.

[2] Gary R. Habermas, The Historical Jesus: Ancient Evidence for the Life of Christ (Joplin, MO: College Press, 1996), 162.

[3] Larry W. Hurtado, One God, One Lord: Early Christian Devotion and Ancient Jewish Monotheism, 3^rd ed (London, UK: Bloomsbury, 2015), 93.

[4] Eusebius of Caesarea, Ecclesiastical History 5.3.1.

[5] Despite the difficulties surrounding the Thomas martyrdom tradition, McDowell argues that the martyrdom of Thomas is “more probable than not.” Sean McDowell, Fate of the Apostles: Examining the Martyrdom Accounts of the Closest Followers of Jesus (London, UK: Routledge, 2008), 173.

[6] Josephus, Antiquities of the Jews 20.200-203.

[7] Tertullian, The Prescription Against Heretics 36.

[8] McDowell, The Fate of the Apostles, 113.

[9] Ibid., 114.

3 Apologetics Strategies from the Book of Acts

Theology and Christian Apologetics

By Alisa Childers

”Do you understand what you’re reading?“

This simple question is credited with carrying Christianity into Ethiopia. (1) Acts chapter 8 tells of Philip being led to the desert by an angel to meet an officer from the court of the Queen of Ethiopia. Philip finds him reading an Isaiah scroll containing prophecies about the Messiah. At this point, Philip could have walked up and boldly declared, “I have been sent to you today to proclaim the good news of Jesus the Messiah!” But he didn’t. He met this man right where he was at and asked a good question, which then led to an explanation of the gospel. This is apologetics at its best.

Apologetics is sometimes called “pre-evangelism” because it can help clear intellectual obstacles in the way of faith. The command to do apologetics is found in 1 Peter 3:15 which tells us to always be “prepared to make a defense to anyone who asks you for a reason for the hope that is in you.” The Greek word translated as “defense” is apologia, which is where we get our English word, “apologetics.” In the book of Acts, when the apostles did evangelism, they did apologetics.

They were constantly defending their faith—to religious leaders, political officers, secular philosophers, and average citizens. Here are 3 ways they used apologetics to defend their faith:

1. They defended the gospel, not themselves.

The apostles were no strangers to trials, councils, and prisons. In Acts 4, Peter and John were brought before the Jerusalem high council and were challenged to defend their right to preach the resurrection of Jesus. Peter wasn’t even one sentence into his defense when he began to proclaim the gospel. He didn’t spend his energy trying to clear his name, or avoid prison time—he preached the resurrection of Jesus to the very council that was questioning him.

This example was also followed by the martyr Stephen in chapters 6-7. Stephen was a Jewish Christian who was brought before the council and accused of blasphemy against Moses and God. In his famous speech, he addressed the council by recounting the history of the Jews, pointing out that God’s true prophets have always been rejected. He also stressed that God’s presence isn’t confined to one specific geographical area or temple. On one level, Stephen answered the charges of blasphemy. But even more, he opened the door theologically for the church’s worldwide mission. It was a brilliant defense of the gospel. New Testament scholar F.F. Bruce commented on Stephen’s famous “defense”:

It is obviously not a speech for the defense in the forensic sense of the term. [It is] by no means calculated to secure an acquittal before the Sanhedrin. It is rather a defense of pure Christianity as God’s appointed way of worship. (2)

The great preacher Charles Spurgeon said this of Stephen:

We see him defending the faith against a synagogue of subtle philosophical deniers of the truth. Stephen the deacon became Stephen the preacher….he had a higher promotion yet—when he had thus become Stephen the wise apologist. (3)

When our faith is under fire, it can be tempting to become defensive. But we would be wise to follow the example of the apostles and defend the gospel, not ourselves.

2. They shared eyewitness evidence of Jesus’ resurrection, not their personal testimonies.

The personal testimonies of the apostles certainly intersected the eyewitness accounts of Jesus’ resurrection because they were the eyewitnesses. But their message was focused on Jesus, not themselves. In other words, when they shared the gospel, they didn’t talk about what Jesus did for them personally and then simply invite others to have a personal relationship with Him. They testified to the fact that He was crucified, buried, and resurrected, offering salvation to all who would repent and put their faith in Jesus the Messiah. This theme is consistent throughout the book of Acts.

Personal testimony can be a great way to build a relationship, but our testimonies should always point to something greater—the good news of the death and resurrection of Jesus.

3. They knew Scripture but sometimes didn’t use it right away.

The first Christians were Jews who were steeped in the Old Testament Scriptures. When Paul was converted in chapter 9, he immediately began preaching to the Jews in Damascus, “proving that Jesus was the Christ.” In chapter 13, he spoke in the synagogue in Antioch, referring to the Old Testament Scriptures to show the Jews that Jesus was the expected Messiah. In chapter 17, he went into the synagogue in Thessalonica and “reasoned with them from the Scriptures.”

Later in the same chapter, Paul was in Athens conversing with Epicurean and Stoic philosophers. These philosophers wouldn’t have accepted the Jewish Old Testament as authoritative, so Paul used a different tactic to get to the gospel. Rather than appeal to the Scriptures, he mentioned their own religious altar with the inscription, “To the unknown god.” He then proceeded to introduce them to the God they didn’t yet know, even quoting their own respected philosophical thinkers. He used this as a tactic to testify to the resurrection of Jesus.

This does not mean that the Scriptures were unimportant or ignored. It just means that sometimes we need to meet people where they are at and start from there.

Conclusion:

The apostles used apologetics creatively, adapting their method to the situation they were in. The common theme among these three methods is that the gospel was always the main point. The apostles kept the focus of their evangelism on the resurrection of Jesus and the hope of saving faith in Him—and we should too!

What Does the Common Practice Of Withholding Sex Reveal About Women?

Legislating Morality, Culture & Politics

By Wintery Knight

Dennis Prager features a lot of discussions about male-female relationships on his show, particularly during the male-female hour. I think this is one of the parts of his show that I really like best because he knows what he is talking about.

He did a two-part series a while back on 1) male sexuality and 2) what women should do about it within a marriage.

Part 1 is here.

Excerpt:

It is an axiom of contemporary marital life that if a wife is not in the mood, she need not have sex with her husband. Here are some arguments why a woman who loves her husband might want to rethink this axiom.

First, women need to recognize how a man understands a wife’s refusal to have sex with him: A husband knows that his wife loves him first and foremost by her willingness to give her body to him. This is rarely the case for women. Few women know their husband loves them because he gives her his body (the idea sounds almost funny). This is, therefore, usually a revelation to a woman. Many women think men’s natures are similar to theirs, and this is so different from a woman’s nature, that few women know this about men unless told about it.

This is a major reason many husbands clam up. A man whose wife frequently denies him sex will first be hurt, then sad, then angry, then quiet. And most men will never tell their wives why they have become quiet and distant. They are afraid to tell their wives. They are often made to feel ashamed of their male sexual nature, and they are humiliated (indeed emasculated) by feeling that they are reduced to having to beg for sex.

When first told this about men, women generally react in one or more of five ways…

He then explains the 5 ways that women respond to this.

Here’s one:

You have to be kidding. That certainly isn’t my way of knowing if he loves me. There have to be deeper ways than sex for me to show my husband that I love him.

And this is the common mistake that some feminist women make because they think that men are just hairy women with no feelings and desires of their own that are distincly theirs. In the past, all women understood how men are different than women, but today almost no younger feminist women do. In fact, many younger women today struggle with the idea that there is anything different about men that they need to learn. The only thing that they need to know is what makes women happy, and that it is everyone else’s job to make women happy so that women can then behave nicely (whatever that means). Younger feminist women today often think that they only need to be in touch with their own feelings – and that men and children simply have to get used to the idea that they have no right to make any demands on a woman – she has no moral obligations in a marriage.

Here’s another from the list:

You have it backwards. If he truly loved me, he wouldn’t expect sex when I’m not in the mood.

I think this whole problem of feminist women not understanding men, and of demeaning male feelings and values, is very serious. In my opinion, there is a whole lot of work that needs to be done by feminism-influenced women in order to fix this problem. The best place to learn about this is in Dr. Laura’s book “The Proper Care and Feeding of Husbands”. It’s like an application form for a serious relationship. Sex is one thing, but a serious man should insist that a woman take him seriously – and take marriage and children seriously. Pre-marital sex, having fun, getting drunk, and going out, etc. are not the right foundation for a relationship that is defined by the need for mutual self-sacrifice. There is no such thing as a “feminist” marriage – marriage is not about selfishness and playing the victim.

I actually had a conversation with a Christian woman once who said that women should not be obligated to do things that they didn’t feel like doing. I asked her if men were obligated to go to work when they didn’t feel like going. She said yes, and acted as though I were crazy for asking. I just laughed, because she didn’t even see the inconsistency. Many young feminist women today just don’t understand men, and they don’t want to understand them. They just want what they want and in the quickest way possible. Understand the needs of men and children, or how feminist-inspired laws discourage men from committing to marriage and parenting, are of no interest at all.

Part 2 is here.

Excerpt:

Here are eight reasons for a woman not to allow not being in the mood for sex to determine whether she denies her husband sex.

He then explains the eight reasons.

Here’s one of them:

Many contemporary women have an almost exclusively romantic notion of sex: It should always be mutually desired and equally satisfying or one should not engage in it. Therefore, if a couple engages in sexual relations when he wants it and she does not, the act is “dehumanizing” and “mechanical.” Now, ideally, every time a husband and wife have sex, they would equally desire it and equally enjoy it. But, given the different sexual natures of men and women, this cannot always be the case. If it is romance a woman seeks — and she has every reason to seek it — it would help her to realize how much more romantic her husband and her marriage are likely to be if he is not regularly denied sex, even of the non-romantic variety.

This makes the point that many young feminist women today do not really understand that they are, in a sense, capable of changing their husband’s conduct by the way they act themselves. I think that younger feminist women seem to think that their role in the relationship is to sort of do nothing and wait for the man to serve them. But relationships take work, and they take work from both participants.

At the end of the article, Prager makes a general point about women that I think needs to be emphasized over and over and over:

That solution is for a wife who loves her husband — if she doesn’t love him, mood is not the problem — to be guided by her mind, not her mood, in deciding whether to deny her husband sex.

I think that is an excellent question to ask a woman. What does it mean to love a man? I was forwarded one amazing response from a Calvinist woman recently in which she explained several things that she wanted to do to meet a particular man’s needs and make his life easier, and what she was prepared to do now in order to show him that she really could do handle the role. I think that she said these things out of sympathy and understanding of that man, and that was very encouraging.

But I think that kind of seriousness about taking of someone else as they really are, self-sacrificially, is rare. And it makes me wonder what people think that marriage is when they get into the church and make vows that, ostensibly, will require self-sacrifice. What do women think that marriage is? What is the goal of it? What makes a marriage successful? Why do women think that men marry? What do men get out of marriage? What are the woman’s responsibilities to the man in a marriage? I think these are questions that men should ask women. And the should not be satisfied with glib answers. Men should demand that books be read, that essays be written, that skills be developed, and that the woman’s life experiences show that she has understood what will be expected from her and why.

I think that it’s a good idea for men to try to get married, but they should be careful to make sure that the woman they choose is sensitive to their needs, just as men ought to be sensitive to the needs of women.

Why It Is A Mistake To Say That All Religions Are The Same

Jesus Christ, Theology and Christian Apologetics

By Al Serrato

Every year in America, thousands of crimes occur in which there are no witnesses and very little evidence. Sometimes, the perpetrator leaves behind a fingerprint impression – a latent print -somewhere at the crime scene. In the past, these prints possessed little value in identifying the offender; before a comparison could be conducted, the police would have to already have a known suspect.

Today, law enforcement officers have access to much better technology, in the form of AFIS – the Automated Fingerprint Identification System. Maintained by the FBI, it houses the data for millions of fingerprint impressions, allowing an unknown latent print to be compared to millions of known offenders. In a matter of minutes, the AFIS computer can spit out the top twenty possible matches to the unknown latent print. But this is only the beginning of the analysis because, with only one latent print at the scene, there is but one actual source for the print. A trained analyst must then spend the time examining in fine detail the patterns of each suspect – the whorls and arches and loops, the ridges and furrows – to determine whether an exact match can be made. The top twenty possible matches have much in common, but on further examination, differences will emerge in the ridge pattern and detail until the one actual source can be identified.

So, what does this have to do with the field of apologetics? Just this: living as we are in very pluralistic times, we often encounter people who believe that all religions are basically the same. Examining them superficially, they will see that religions share a number of features; for example, most teach the utility of treating others with respect, of being kind, of helping the poor. So, while acknowledging some differences in doctrines, people who hold this view believe they have arrived at a great truth: there is no one right religion, just people who mistakenly, and sometimes dangerously, think that they have the corner on truth. This leaves them feeling settled, for the moment, as they conclude that no further inquiry is required. Just be kind to others and follow your heart and all will be well. But on closer examination, all they have really done is stopped searching for the truth, for the “source” of the life that has been given to them and the universe that surrounds them.

Like fingerprints, religions can appear on the surface to be identical, or nearly so, when in fact they are not. And to determine where and how they differ requires a rigorous and close inspection. This of course is crucial in a fingerprint analysis because we know that for one print, there can only be one source. No analyst would stop when she narrowed the search to three possible sources because common sense and reason dictate that two of the three – or perhaps all three – must also be excludable on further inquiry. It is the nature of the thing examined.

So too with the knowledge of God. The major world religions make mutually exclusive truth claims about the nature and attributes of God. Do we live and die once, and then face judgment, as Christianity teaches? Or do we undergo a continuous cycle of life, death, and reincarnation? Is there one God consisting of three persons, or are there instead of a single god or a multitude of deities? For one religion to be true, the others cannot be.

It is logically possible, of course, that all religions are false. It is not possible, by contrast, for religions holding contrary positions to all be true. Either Jesus Christ is the Son of God who rose from the dead and thereby provides salvation to a fallen world, as Christians claim, or he is not. He cannot be both savior and mere sage at the same time.

Critical and careful analysis of a latent fingerprint can lead to the discovery of the truth as to who left it behind. Making the effort is critical to the pursuit of justice, the importance of which we all intuitively recognize.

But critical and careful analysis can also lead to knowledge of the one God who brought us into existence. When we fail to investigate this question because we mistakenly believe that we already know all we need to know – that is, when we allow ourselves to be misled to believe that all religions are pretty much the same – we may not intuitively realize just how much we are giving up.

After all, what comes next – what awaits each of us at the end of our days here on Earth – is without a doubt the most important question that we must confront. And the sooner we begin that process, the sooner we will find that good and satisfying answers await.

An Evaluation of “Why the case against abortion is weak, ethically speaking”

Legislating Morality, Culture & Politics

By Elliott Crozat

Introduction

Why the case against abortion is weak, ethically speaking is an engaging article on an issue often confined to academic journals.[1] I am grateful for the report, mainly because of Nobis’ and Dudley’s emphasis on personhood and because I agree with them on two significant points. First, our society needs a careful and respectful examination of challenging topics rather than sloganeering and ad hominem. As Schopenhauer put it, “one wants reasons and not empty phrases or abuse.”[2] Second, at the popular level, folks on both sides of the debate have largely ignored the relevance of moral reasoning.

Four-Fold Evaluation

Notwithstanding my gratitude, the article has weaknesses. What follows is a brief evaluation of the authors’ argument, not an attempt to defend the pro-life position.

Firstly, the tone strikes me as too quick and sure. I will return to this point, but for now, I note that generally, philosophers are less sure about solutions to philosophical problems than the authors seem to be about their position on abortion. However, I grant that a tone of crisp certainty is more acceptable in popular contexts than in academia.

Secondly, the article begins in a questionable manner: “Abortion rights are under attack… The Supreme Court now has a majority of justices who identify as “pro-life,” and will surely be more receptive to these attacks on abortion rights than previous courts have been.” Note that the authors are not clear about whether they are referring to moral or legal rights. Either way, a problem arises. If the former, they are begging the question at the start since it is debatable whether persons have the moral right to perform an abortion. If the latter, then “attack” is a question-begging epithet. After all, if a legal right is morally unacceptable, it is arguably permissible to repeal that right. Labeling such efforts with the emotionally-laden “attack” presupposes that the legal right in question is ethically acceptable.

Thirdly, the authors provide two analogies to argue that abortion is morally permissible. In each, they presuppose the like-cases principle: like cases should be treated alike unless there is a morally relevant reason to treat them differently. Good start: this is a venerable moral principle going back at least to Aristotle. Nevertheless, each analogy fails because of at least one morally significant difference.

The first comparison is between abortion and organ donation. This comparison fails in two crucial respects: (i) in typical cases of organ donation, the donor consents to undergo the process, and (ii) the process occurs after the donor is brain-dead. It hardly needs to be stated that in typical cases of abortion, the fetus does not consent and is not brain-dead.

The second analogy concerns abortion and the treatment of anencephalic infants. Here, the authors miss the difference between (a) actively killing and (b) passively allowing to die. This distinction is pivotal in the euthanasia debate and proves similarly important here. Abortion is the active killing of a fetus that would otherwise naturally continue to live and develop. However, in cases of anencephalic infants such as those noted by the authors, the infant is allowed to die, supported by palliative care.

Given these analogies, the authors construct something like the following argument:

Abortion is relevantly similar to organ donation and anencephalic death.
Cases of organ donation and anencephalic death are morally permissible.
Like cases should be treated alike.
Therefore, abortion is morally permissible.

The argument is an interesting application of the like-cases principle. However, since the analogies fail, the authors’ analogical reasoning is unconvincing.

Fourthly, the authors claim that fetuses during the first 12 weeks are not conscious. Perhaps they are correct, but they cannot be objectively certain. As many philosophers of mind have indicated, consciousness is a hard problem. A good way to discover if a being is conscious is to determine if it has qualia (i.e., subjective states of experience). One cannot accomplish this task with a brain scan. Hence, a reasonable concern arises that we cannot achieve certainty concerning whether a fetus has qualia. And since we lack such certainty, we should act with the utmost caution, given the moral seriousness of taking human life. The authors do not address this point.[3] Instead, they present what might strike the reader as an unjustified sense of certainty about the moral permissibility of killing fetuses during the first 12 weeks.

Moreover, the authors write that fetuses “lack consciousness-enabling brains.” But they are not lucid about what “consciousness-enabling brain” means, leaving the reader to ponder the matter. Now, there is evidence that the senses of taste and touch begin to develop around Week 8. According to Ventura and Worobey, the olfactory and gustatory systems also start to form during this period. These systems and their connections to the brain enable the fetus to develop tastes and preferences for specific flavors.[4] Touch, taste, and smell are sensations, which are states of consciousness. Preferences and other desires are also conscious states. Thus, the physical resources which support consciousness begin to develop before Week 12. Do these mechanisms enable any degree of consciousness during this period? I suggest that we do not know the answer to this question and that our ignorance indicates that we should tread carefully.

Furthermore, one is within one’s epistemic rights to doubt the authors’ claim that the present bearing of consciousness is necessary to possess the moral right to life. For example, the adult who temporarily loses consciousness because of, say, dehydration does not thereby lose this right. Instead, one might agree with Marquis that the primary concern at hand is that the fetus has a future like ours.[5] In other words, the human fetus, child, and adult share a comparable future, namely, one in which a conscious agent naturally possesses intrinsically valuable experiences. It is morally wrong to deprive a child or an adult of future experiences. Given the like-cases principle, abortion is morally wrong because it deprives the fetus of such experiences.

Conclusion

There are other concerns with the article, such as an apparent mishandling of important points about interests. But I want to end amicably. Nobis and Dudley close by stating that one should not wait to engage in moral philosophy until forced to because of a rescinded legal privilege. I wholly agree.

[1] Salon published the article on April 11, 2021. See https://www.salon.com/2021/04/11/why-the-case-against-abortion-is-weak-ethically-speaking/

[2] “On Suicide,” in Essays and Aphorisms, tr. R. J. Hollingdale, (London: Penguin Books, 2004), 78.

[3] They need not agree with it. But they should recognize it.

[4] “Early Influences on the Development of Food Preferences,” in Current Biology, Volume 23, Issue 9, May 2013. Moreover, Andreas Keller argues that olfaction is the paradigm sensation. See Philosophy of Olfactory Perception, Palgrave Macmillan, 2016.

[5] See “Why Abortion is Immoral,” Journal of Philosophy 86, 4 (April 1989): 183–202.

A Reply to Bart Ehrman’s Defense of Jesus, Interrupted on the MythVision Podcast

Jesus Christ, Theology and Christian Apologetics

Nearly a year ago, I published a series of three articles in which I reviewed sections of Bart Ehrman’s book Jesus, Interrupted: Revealing the Hidden Contradictions in the Bible (And Why We Don’t Know About Them). If you have not read those articles already, you can find them at the links below:

Why You Should Not Be Intimidated by Bart Ehrman: A Review of Jesus, Interrupted (Part 1)

More Misrepresentations and Distortions by Bart Ehrman: A Review of Jesus, Interrupted (Part 2)

Finding Contradictions Where There Is None: A Review of Jesus, Interrupted (Part 3)

Bart Ehrman was recently interviewed on the atheist MythVision podcast about alleged contradictions in the New Testament. During the course of the discussion, the host Derek Lambert asked Ehrman to comment on my critiques of Jesus, Interrupted (see this time stamp). This is my response to Ehrman’s remarks.

Before I begin my response to Ehrman’s interaction with my comments, I wish to clarify my methodology, since Ehrman misrepresented my views a number of times during the podcast. Indeed, despite confessing to having no prior knowledge of my work, Ehrman apparently felt at liberty to impute to me certain views that I do not in fact hold. In particular, Ehrman insinuated on multiple occasions that I am an inerrantist and a fundamentalist, whereas in reality I am neither an inerrantist, nor a fundamentalist (at least in the sense in which the word is used in popular parlance). I do not believe that it is proper practice to exclude a priori the possibility that the authors of the gospels have made a mistake or that there exists an actual discrepancy between the accounts (see, for instance, this article for a small handful of examples, albeit non-exhaustive, where I think the best explanation is that a gospel author has made a good faith error). Thus, it is not that I think there can be no errors between the gospel accounts. Rather, it is that I do not believe that the vast majority of the examples Ehrman adduces in Jesus, Interrupted are best explained as an actual contradiction, though I remain open to persuasion in principle. With that clarified, I now turn to those examples touched on in Ehrman’s recent interview on the MythVision podcast.

Matthew’s Dual Donkeys

In Jesus, Interrupted, Bart Ehrman makes the popular claim that Matthew has Jesus riding into Jerusalem seated upon two animals. He states on page 50,

In Matthew, Jesus’ disciples procure two animals for him, a donkey and a colt; they spread their garments over the two of them, and Jesus rode into town straddling them both (Matthew 21:7). It’s an odd image, but Matthew made Jesus fulfil the prophecy of Scripture quite literally.

I pointed out in my previous article that this is not the only way to interpret Matthew’s words, and there is in fact a much more charitable interpretation. Here is the text from Matthew 21:7:

They brought the donkey and the colt and put on them their cloaks, and he sat on them.

What is the antecedent of “them”? The most plausible antecedent is the cloaks. Matthew is indicating that Jesus sat on the cloaks, not that he sat on both the donkey and the colt.

Bart Ehrman responds by pointing out that the cloaks, according to Matthew, are placed on both animals — that is, both the donkey and the colt. Thus, Ehrman argues, we should understand Jesus to be seated on all of the garments, which are spread across the two animals. However, this is a very uncharitable reading of Matthew. Are we really to think that Matthew envisioned Jesus riding on two animals of different heights like some rodeo showman? If that is really what Matthew meant, surely he would have made himself more explicit, since I doubt that it is the interpretation that Matthew’s original readers would have taken from this verse. It did not even cross my mind until I started reading critical literature on the gospels, despite having read Matthew for years. While the cloaks were placed on the two animals and Jesus is said to have sat on the cloaks, it does not follow that Jesus sat on all of the cloaks. Perhaps there were multiple cloaks on one animal and one cloak on the other.

Furthermore, Ehrman’s interpretation depends on the premise that Matthew misunderstood the Hebrew parallelism, erroneously concluding that Zechariah envisioned two animals instead of just one (Zech 9:9). However, Matthew appears to have been quite conversant in Hebrew. For example, consider this text from Matthew 8:16-17:

16 That evening they brought to him many who were oppressed by demons, and he cast out the spirits with a word and healed all who were sick. 17 This was to fulfill what was spoken by the prophet Isaiah: “He took our illnesses and bore our diseases.”

Verse 17 quotes from Isaiah 53:4. It is of note that Matthew does not here quote from the Septuagint, which reads, “He himself bore our sins and was pained because of them.” Matthew’s quotation does not even match the Aramaic Targum, which reads, “Then for our sins he will pray and our iniquities will be forgiven because of him.” Instead, Matthew translates the Hebrew quite literally, highlighting how it is fulfilled in Jesus performing miracles of healing. Matthew’s acquaintance with Hebrew thus make it quite unlikely that he would so grossly misunderstand the parallelism in Zechariah.

In my previous article, I had also pointed out that, since the colt never had been ridden, or even sat upon (as stated by Mark and Luke), its dependence upon its mother is very understandable (as implied by Matthew). The host of the podcast, Derek Lambert, represented this remark as asserting that the colt required some kind of “moral support” from its mother (though this phrase was not used by me). Ehrman ridiculed this idea as though it were something ludicrous. But this has in fact been suggested by many scholars who have written on this text. For example, Richard Thomas France, in his commentary on Matthew, writes[1],

Garments serve as improvised saddle-cloths, placed on both animals, but there is no need to understand thereon (literally ‘on top of them’, where ‘them’ could refer as well to the garments as to the donkeys) as meaning that Jesus rode on both animals in turn. The mother was brought to help to control the colt as Jesus rode on it, and both animals were therefore decked appropriately for the festive occasion.

Craig Keener likewise states that “Colts that had not yet been ridden sometimes accompanied their mothers.”[2]

When was the Temple Curtain Torn?

On page 51-52 of Jesus, Interrupted, Ehrman discusses the ripping of the temple curtain, which happened as Jesus died. Ehrman writes,

According to Mark’s Gospel, after Jesus breathes his last, the curtain of the Temple is torn in half (15:38)…Luke’s Gospel also indicates that the curtain in the Temple was ripped in half. Oddly enough, it does not rip after Jesus dies but is explicitly said to rip while Jesus is still alive and hanging on the cross (23:45-46).

In my previous review of Ehrman’s arguments, I had pointed out that the Greek conjunction και is temporally non-specific. Although often translated “then” in our English Bibles, a more precise translation would be “and.” It does not necessarily imply that one event happened subsequent to the other.

In response, Ehrman challenged me to produce three examples in Luke’s passion narrative where Luke narrates a sequence of events and uses και but the second event takes place prior to the first. It appears though that Ehrman has misunderstood my argument. I am not saying that Luke intends his readers to understand that the ripping of the temple veil took place after Jesus’ last breath (or that Mark intends his readers to understand that it took place before Jesus’ last breath). Rather, as I noted in my review, the text in both Mark and Luke is consistent with Jesus’ death taking place simultaneously with the ripping of the temple curtain. Could Mark and Luke have been more explicit if that is what they meant? Yes, they could. However, it is quite plausible that Mark and Luke simply did not know the precise sequence of events, knowing only that Jesus had died and that the temple curtain had been observed to have been torn in two, and so they left the precise sequence of events ambiguous.

Jesus’ Miracles in John

The next example Ehrman addresses is my interaction with this alleged discrepancy internal to John’s gospel, which Ehrman discusses on page 8 of Jesus, Interrupted:

Not only are there discrepancies among different books of the Bible, but there are also inconsistencies within some of the books, a problem that historical critics have long ascribed to the fact that Gospel writers used different sources for their accounts, and sometimes these sources, when spliced together, stood at odds with one another. It’s amazing how internal problems like these, if you’re not alerted to them, are so easily passed by when you read the Gospels, but how when someone points them out they seem so obvious. Students often ask me, “Why didn’t I see this before?” For example, in John’s Gospel, Jesus performs his first miracle in chapter 2, when he turns the water into wine (a favorite miracle story on college campuses), and we’re told that “this was the first sign that Jesus did” (John 2:11). Later in that chapter we’re told that Jesus did “many signs” in Jerusalem (John 2:23). And then, in chapter 4, he heals the son of a centurion, and the author says, “This was the second sign that Jesus did” (John 4:54). Huh? One sign, many signs, and then the second sign?

In my previous review of this argument, I pointed out that this objection quickly dissolves upon a closer inspection of the context of these verses. Here are the full verses with the relevant portions highlighted in bold font:

John 2:11– “This, the first of his signs, Jesus did at Cana in Galilee.”
John 2:23– “Now when he was in Jerusalem at the Passover Feast, many believed in his name when they saw the signs that he was doing.”
John 4:54– “This was now the second sign that Jesus did when he had come from Judea to Galilee.”

As can be seen from the above, the first and second signs relate to Jesus’ miracles in Galilee. The many signs between the first and second Galilean signs are performed in Jerusalem.

Ehrman responds by pointing out that whether John contradicts himself depends on how one translates John 4:54. Ehrman proposes that we translate John 4:54 as saying “This is the second sign Jesus did. He did this sign after He came from Cana to Galilee.” Is Ehrman’s proposal a possible interpretation? Yes, it is. But why opt for one possible interpretation over another when the former puts an author into conflict with himself? This is not a charitable way to read literature.

The word ἐλθὼν in John 4:54 is an aorist participle, and I would probably be inclined to translate this verse something along the lines of “Having come from Judea to Galilee, this is the second sign that Jesus did.” However, this translation is quite consistent with my interpretation, namely, that this is the second sign that Jesus performed during his ministry to Galilee. Again, if we have an ambiguous text, the charitable reading is that which comports with what the same author has said elsewhere, not that which puts the author into conflict with his own explicit statements elsewhere.

How Many Women Went to the Tomb?

The next example addressed by Ehrman concerns the identity of the women who visited the tomb on Easter morning. Here is the original quote (p. 48):

Who actually went to the tomb? Was it Mary alone (John 20:1)? Mary and another Mary (Matthew 28:1)? Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome (Mark 16:1)? Or women who had accompanied Jesus from Galilee to Jerusalem – possibly Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James, and “other women” (Luke 24:1; see 23:55)?

According to Bart Ehrman, John 20:1 indicates that it was Mary alone who went to the tomb. However, as I pointed out in my earlier article, in verse 2, we read,

So she ran and went to Simon Peter and the other disciple, the one whom Jesus loved, and said to them, “They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know (οὐκ οἴδαμεν) where they have laid him.”

The word οἴδαμεν is the first person plural form of οιδα, meaning “to know,” and the word οὐ / οὐκ is an adverb that negates the verb, hence “we do not know.” Thus, Mary’s use of the plural in this verse implies that there were in fact other women who had been present with Mary at the tomb.

Ehrman responds to this observation by noting that my solution does not in fact reconcile the texts, since Matthew, Mark, and Luke do not all say the same thing either. However, Luke indicates explicitly that he has not given us an exhaustive list of the women who were present at the tomb on Easter morning. Luke 24:10 indicates,

Now it was Mary Magdalene and Joanna and Mary the mother of James and the other women with them who told these things to the apostles.

Given that Luke indicates explicitly that his list is not exhaustive, it is very difficult to see how Ehrman can allege a contradiction in regards to which women were present at the tomb.

Ehrman asks why John does not tell the reader who the other women were? However, it is not at all clear to me why it would have been necessary for John to do so. John spotlights Mary Magdalene because she is the one who ran to inform Peter and the disciple whom Jesus loved (very probably the apostle John) about the fact that the body of Jesus was missing. If the fourth gospel is indeed written by John the son of Zebedee (as I maintain), then it would be natural for him to spotlight Mary Magdalene in this role since he was one of the two disciples that Mary Magdalene spoke to following her discovery of the empty tomb.

Ehrman further asks that if one only read through the end of verse 1 of John 20, what would one think had happened so far? Obviously, one would surmise that Mary Magdalene had gone to the tomb. Ehrman’s point here is unclear, however, since John does not stop at verse 1 but includes verse 2 as well. Even if John had not included the subtle allusion to other women in verse 2, it is difficult to see how John contradicts the other gospels since nothing prevents John from spotlighting Mary Magdalene while omitting to mention the other women with her, in particular in view of her role in reporting to Peter and John what she had seen.

Ehrman also argues that an alternative interpretation of the saying “we do not know where they have laid him” is that she had left the tomb and conferred with other people, who likewise did not know where Jesus’ body had been taken. Ehrman objects, “If you want to play that game, you could play it either direction. So, how do we know what one is right?” But this is not how history ought to be done. The reality is that we have not just one biography of Jesus’ life but four biographies, all of which may be shown to be written by individuals who are close up to the facts, well informed, and habitually reliable (see my other articles pertaining to this topic for a detailed discussion of the evidence for this). That being the case, it is legitimate scholarly practice to allow those sources to illuminate and clarify one another, since they are written from multiple perspectives and, although there is evidently a significant level of literary dependence between them (especially the synoptic gospels), there is also information that the authors appear to have independent access to. In the case of interpreting John 20:2, the hypothesis that the others implied in Mary’s statement are the other women at the tomb has a higher prior probability than Ehrman’s proposed interpretation, since we have independent evidence for that scenario, whereas we do not have independent evidence supporting Ehrman’s proposal. Therefore, the interpretation that I offered ought to be the one preferred.

It is also noteworthy that Matthew and Mark appear to be independent of Luke when it comes to the women’s discovery of the empty tomb, as Lydia McGrew has observed.[3] Luke indicates in Luke 8:1-3 that some women followed Jesus from Galilee, including Joanna, the wife of Chuza, Herod’s household manager. This detail is confirmed by an undesigned coincidence with Matthew 14:1, since it illuminates how the author of Matthew’s gospel might know what Herod had said to his servants, presumably in the privacy of his palace. The names given in Luke’s list are Mary, Joanna, and Susanna, as well as “many others,” (Lk 8:2-3). Mark, describing the women who were “looking on from a distance” at the crucifixion, lists “Mary Magdalene, and Mary the mother of James the younger and of Joses, and Salome,” (Mk 14:40). These names overlap only partially with those given in Luke 8. There is no mention in Mark of Joanna or Susanna, and Luke does not mention Mary the mother of James or Salome. It does not appear that Luke added the passage in chapter 8 in order to “put” the women in place earlier in Jesus’ ministry and thus fit his narrative together with Matthew and Mark concerning the women at the cross because the names are only partially the same. Luke would have presumably included Mary the mother of James, and Salome, and probably left out Susanna if he had fictionalized the verses in chapter 8 on the basis of Mark’s mention of the women at the cross. Luke himself mentions the women who came from Galilee at the cross and burial (23:49, 55) but does not even name any of them there. Both accounts, therefore, confirm apparently independently that there was a group of women who had begun following Jesus in Galilee and who continued to do so and who helped Jesus in concrete ways (“ministering” or “providing”).

In Luke 24:6-10, the angels tell the women at the empty tomb, “Remember how he told you, while he was still in Galilee (v. 6).” This makes it clear that these women really were personally with Jesus in Galilee and heard what He said there. When Luke names various women who brought the disciples news of the empty tomb and the message of the angel (24:10), he names Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Joanna (and says there were other women as well). Once again, he does not seem to be trying to reproduce his own list from chapter 8, for Mary the mother of James was not in that list, and Susanna isn’t mentioned in 24:10. Nor is he reproducing Mark’s list of women at the cross nor Mark’s list of women who came to the tomb (Mk 16:1), since Salome isn’t included in Luke’s list, and Joanna (who is unique to Luke) is not included in Mark’s list. Luke seems to be listing women whom he really knows were present for the events on Easter morning. Evidently, he is not sure about Susanna’s presence or just does not bother to mention her, and he knows that Mary the mother of James was there on Easter morning even though she is not listed in his chapter 8.

Thus, distant parts of Luke’s own narrative fit together in an apparently casual and non-deliberate way — Mary Magdalene, Joanna, and various other women were with Jesus in Galilee and heard there Jesus’ own prediction concerning His crucifixion and resurrection. They therefore subsequently went with him to Jerusalem and were present for the events of the cross, burial, and empty tomb.

Where was Jesus the Day After His Baptism?

On pages 40 and 41 of Jesus, Interrupted, Bart Ehrman, asks where was Jesus the day after he was baptized? He writes,

In Matthew, Mark, and Luke – the so-called Synoptic Gospels – Jesus, after his baptism, goes off into the wilderness where he will be tempted by the Devil. Mark especially is quite clear about the matter, for he states, after telling of the baptism, that Jesus left “immediately” for the wilderness. What about John? In John there is no account of Jesus being tempted by the Devil in the wilderness. The day after John the Baptist has borne witness to the Spirit descending on Jesus as a dove at baptism (John 1:29-34), he sees Jesus again and declares him to be the Lamb of God (John is explicit, stating that this occurred “the next day”). Jesus then starts gathering his disciples around him (1:35-52) and launches into his public ministry by performing his miracle of turning water into wine. So where was Jesus the next day? It depends on which Gospel you read.

As I pointed out previously, John does not narrate the baptism of Jesus by John the Baptist in the Jordan. Rather, John merely says,

And John bore witness, “I saw the Spirit descend from heaven like a dove, and it remained on him. I myself did not know him, but he who sent me to baptize with water said to me, “He on whom you see the Spirit descend and remain, this is he who baptizes with the Holy Spirit.” And I have seen and have borne witness that this is the Son of God.

This, then, is not the baptism narrative itself but rather John giving testimony to what had happened on an earlier occasion.

In response to my comments, Ehrman points out that you have to start with John 1:29 where the passage begins. It begins with the phrase “on the next day.” Ehrman notes that the next day is in relationship to the day when John the Baptist was speaking (v. 23). It must therefore be taken to be narrating a sequence of events. There is no disagreement there. However, Ehrman appears to have once again misunderstood the argument. I am not contesting that the “next day” of verse 29 stands in relationship to the day when John the Baptist was speaking. Rather, my point is that it is not at all necessary to take verse 23 as pertaining to the event of Jesus’ baptism itself. Rather, John is alluding to what had taken place on a previous occasion. Thus, there is no need to posit a discrepancy in this text.

Does Acts Contradict Paul Regarding His Visit to Jerusalem?

The next example Ehrman addresses is an alleged discrepancy between Acts and the Pauline corpus. The apostle Paul writes, in Galatians 1:16-20:

I did not immediately consult with anyone; 17 nor did I go up to Jerusalem to those who were apostles before me, but I went away into Arabia, and returned again to Damascus. 18 Then after three years I went up to Jerusalem to visit Cephas and remained with him fifteen days. 19 But I saw none of the other apostles except James the Lord’s brother. 20 (In what I am writing to you, before God, I do not lie!)

Ehrman writes in Jesus, Interrupted (p. 55),

This emphatic statement that Paul is not lying should give us pause. He is completely clear. He did not consult with others after his conversion, did not see any of the apostles for three years, and even then he did not see any except Cephas (Peter) and Jesus’ brother James. This makes the account found in the book of Acts very interesting indeed. For according to Acts 9, immediately after Paul converted he spent some time in Damascus “with the disciples”, and when he left the city, he headed directly to Jerusalem, where he met with he apostles of Jesus (Acts 9:19-30). On all counts Acts seems to be at odds with Paul. Did he spend time with other Christians immediately (Acts) or not (Paul)? Did he go straight to Jerusalem (Acts) or not (Paul)? Did he meet with the group of apostles (Acts) or just with Peter and James (Paul)?

Here is the key text from Acts 9:23-25:

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.

How long a period of time is denoted by “…many days…” (literally, “sufficient days” — ἡμέραι ἱκαναί)? I noted in my previous article that in 1 Kings 2:38-39, the expression “many days” in Hebrew is immediately glossed as three years:

38 And Shimei said to the king, “What you say is good; as my lord the king has said, so will your servant do.” So Shimei lived in Jerusalem many days. 39 But it happened at the end of three years that two of Shimei’s servants ran away to Achish, son of Maacah, king of Gath. And when it was told Shimei, “Behold, your servants are in Gath,”

I also noted that, although Luke is silent regarding Paul’s trip to Arabia, this trip may be placed within the “many days” of Acts 9:23. Paul also informs us in Galatians 1:17 that he “returned again to Damascus” — thus, it is not surprising that his subsequent trip to Jerusalem is from Damascus.

Ehrman mistakenly took my argument as having to do with the wording in the Septuagint Greek translation of the Hebrew Bible (despite the fact that my article had explicitly referred to the wording of the Hebrew text). Ehrman thus objected that the Septuagint is a translation done centuries after the Hebrew text was written, and not written by the author of 1 Kings. Ehrman compared this to translating a verse from the Greek New Testament and then using the translation to prove what the author meant. In fact, the Septuagint text says τρία ἔτη (“three years”), not ἡμέραι ἱκαναί (“many days”), which is what the Hebrew text says (יָמִ֥ים רַבִּֽים). My view is that the expression “many days” was likely an idiomatic expression, meaning a significant period of time of unspecified duration.

The host Derek Lambert noted that Luke uses this same expression when describing Paul’s voyage in Acts 27:7, where he cannot mean a period of three years:

We sailed slowly for a number of days and arrived with difficulty off Cnidus, and as the wind did not allow us to go farther, we sailed under the lee of Crete off Salmone.

However, it is not my position that the expression ἡμέραι ἱκαναί means a period of three years. Rather, the phrase denotes a significant period of time of unspecified duration. It is also an admissible reading of Paul that his sojourn in Arabia was not for three full years but for one complete year and part of two others, and it seems quite difficult to argue strongly that Luke’s use of the expression “many days” cannot denote a period that long.

Could Luke have made himself more explicit? Absolutely, he could. But it is possible that Luke simply did not know precisely how long transpired between Paul arriving in Damascus and his escape from the Jews who plotted to kill him, and so he deliberately chose to utilize a vague expression. Luke may also not have even been aware of Paul’s journey to Arabia, or he may not have considered it of sufficient relevance to include.

Ehrman claims that if three years transpired during those “many days” in Acts 9:23, the chronology of Acts does not work anymore. I would be very interested in hearing Ehrman’s argument for this since I cannot identify any chronological issues that arise on this interpretation.

Ehrman also claims that my approach misses the point of Acts (which says that Paul went to Jerusalem right away to meet with the apostles) and also misses the point of Galatians (which says that Paul did not immediately go to Jerusalem to meet those who were apostles before him). I agree with Ehrman about Paul’s intent in his epistle to the Galatians. I am not convinced by Ehrman’s interpretation of Luke’s intent in Acts, for the reasons stated above.

Does Acts Contradict Paul on the Number of Jerusalem Visits?

According to Jesus, Interrupted, Paul’s own words in Galatians contradicts the book of Acts in regards to the number of visits Paul made to Jerusalem. Ehrman writes on page 57,

According to Paul’s account, [the Jerusalem council] was only the second time he had been to Jerusalem (Galatians 1:18; 2:1). According to Acts, it was his third, prolonged trip there (Acts 9, 11, 15). Once again, it appears that the author of Acts has confused some of Paul’s itinerary – possibly intentionally, for his own purposes.

As I noted in my previous article, Galatians does not say that at all. Paul writes in Galatians 1:18-19,

18 Then after three years I went up to Jerusalem to visit Cephas and remained with him fifteen days. 19 But I saw none of the other apostles except James the Lord’s brother.

That would be Paul’s first trip to Jerusalem following his conversion. In Galatians 2:1, Paul writes,

Then after fourteen years I went up again to Jerusalem with Barnabas, taking Titus along with me.

Where does the text say that this was only Paul’s second visit to Jerusalem? In fact, we learn from Acts 11 that between those two journeys Paul had gone to Jerusalem to bring aid to the saints affected by a famine. There would have been no purpose in Galatians for Paul to have mentioned this trip, as it did not relate to conferring with the apostles about the gospel he was preaching.

Ehrman responds by asserting that, in context, Paul is trying to convey that he did not spend much time in Jerusalem and that he got his gospel from Jesus himself, not the other apostles. Ehrman believes it to be inconceivable that Paul would have gone to Jerusalem and not looked up the apostles. Paul does note in verse 20, referring to the fact that he saw none of the other apostles, except the Lord’s brother James, “In what I am writing to you, before God, I do not lie!” The purpose of Paul’s emphatic statement that he is not lying is probably to underscore the fact that his gospel has not been received second-hand, nor is it subordinate to that of the Jerusalem apostles. The reality, however, is that we simply do not know what interaction, if any, Paul may have had with the Jerusalem apostles in Jerusalem in Acts 11, since Luke does not inform us. To make historical judgments on the basis of what one asserts Paul would have done is to do a priori history. Paul’s visit to Jerusalem seems to have been primarily for the purpose of delivering financial aid to the brothers in Jerusalem, in the wake of the famine that took place during the time of Claudius. For whatever reason, Paul apparently did not think that visit to be worth mentioning in his letter to the Galatians. However, Galatians does not contradict Paul’s letter on this score, and it seems unlikely, given Luke’s track record as a meticulous historian, that he would invent Paul’s journey to Jerusalem to deliver relief to the believers there.

Ehrman also asserts that Paul’s collection was at the end of his life (c.f. Romans 15:25-27), not right at the beginning of his ministry. However, I would argue that there are in fact two instances when Paul delivers financial aid to the saints in Jerusalem. In fact, Acts agrees quite well with the order of travel that we would deduce from the Pauline epistles, on his way to deliver the funds to Jerusalem — even though Acts does not explicitly mention fund-raising as the purpose of Paul’s travels. Indeed, in Acts 19:21, we read, “After all this had happened, Paul decided to go to Jerusalem, passing through Macedonia and Achaia. ‘After I have been there,’ he said, ‘I must visit Rome also.’” Paul’s intention to visit Rome is also attested to by Paul’s own words in Romans 15:22-28. Furthermore, according to Acts 20:1, Paul left Ephusus, following the riot, and travelled through Macedonia (which coincides with Paul’s traveling through Troas, alluded to in 2 Corinthians 2:12). Acts also indicates that Paul eventually came to Greece, where he resided for three months (Acts 20:3a), and was intending to leave for Syria (Acts 20:3b).

There are independent grounds for thinking that Paul wrote 1 Corinthians towards the end of his Ephesian stay (around Acts 19:22). When Paul wrote 1 Corinthians, he was urging the Corinthians to be prepared with their collection (1 Cor 16:1-4). It may also be established that 2 Corinthians was written while Paul was in Macedonia (around Acts 20:1-2). Paul again mentions the collection, which he just picked up from Macedonia, in 2 Corinthians 9:1-5. The epistle to Romans was probably written towards the end of the three months that Paul resided in Greece (Acts 20:3). All of those conclusions about when those letters were written are made on the basis of clues that relate to the collection that Paul was making for the saints in Jerusalem, which is not mentioned by Acts. Acts 20:1-3 also indicates that Paul had to return to Jerusalem overland, following a plot that was made against him (see Acts 20-21 for the details of Paul’s route). Paul eventually arrived in Jerusalem and had a meeting with the Jerusalem elders (Acts 21:17ff). Paul subsequently was taken into Roman custody and imprisoned (Acts 21:27ff). When making his defense before the governor Felix, Paul makes a very indirect reference to the Jerusalem collection: “Now after several years, I came to bring alms to my nation and to present offerings,” (Acts 24:17). The undesignedness of the allusions to this collection and the itinerary in Acts in fact serves to confirm the account in Acts. William Paley (1743-1805) summarizes the case[4]:

Here therefore, at length, but fetched from three different writings, we have obtained the several circumstances we inquired after, and which the Epistle to the Romans brings together, viz. a contribution in Achaia for the Christians of Jerusalem; a contribution in Macedonia for the same; and an approaching journey of St. Paul to Jerusalem. We have these circumstances—each by some hint in the passage in which it is mentioned, or by the date of the writing in which the passage occurs—fixed to a particular time; and we have that time turning out upon examination, to be in all the same: namely, towards the close of St. Paul’s second visit to the peninsula of Greece. This is an instance of conformity beyond the possibility, I will venture to say, of random writing to produce; I also assert, that it is in the highest degree improbable that it should have been the effect of contrivance and design.

It seems, then, that there were in fact two occasions in which Paul brought a monetary collection to the Jerusalem saints. One of those was a collection received from the disciples in Antioch following the famine during the reign of Claudius and delivered by the hand of Barnabas and Saul (Acts 11:29-30). The other was received from the churches in Macedonia and Achaia.

The Original Reading of Luke 3:22

Another example Ehrman addresses is my remarks concerning Ehrman’s assertion on pages 39-40 of Jesus, Interrupted that what the voice at Jesus’ baptism said: “depends on which account you read.” Though this was in fact the first example addressed by Ehrman in the podcast, I have saved my response to this one till last, since this one is slightly more technical than the others. In Jesus, Interrupted, Ehrman writes,

In Matthew it says, “This is my beloved son, in whom I am well pleased.” The voice appears to be speaking to the people around Jesus, or possibly to John the Baptist, informing them who Jesus is. In Mark, however, the voice says, ‘You are my son, in whom I am well pleased.’ In this case the voice appears to be speaking directly to Jesus, telling him, or confirming to him, who he really is. In Luke, we have something different (this is a bit complicated, because different manuscripts of Luke’s Gospel give the voice different words. I am taking here the original wording of the verse as found in some older manuscripts of the Bible, even though it is not found in most English translations). Here the voice says, “You are my son, today I have begotten you” (3:22), quoting the words of Psalm 2:7).

In my previous article, I noted that the reading “You are my son, today I have begotten you” in Luke, quoting Psalm 2:7, is only found in a single Greek manuscript (although it is also found in several Latin manuscripts and quotations by church fathers). Most textual scholars argue that this is a non-original reading. For instance, Bruce Metzger writes[5],

The Western reading, “This day I have begotten thee,” which was widely current during the first three centuries, appears to be secondary, derived from Ps 2:7.

Ehrman responds by asking me to address his argumentation for favoring this reading in his scholarly book The Orthodox Corruption of Scripture[6]. However, it is still problematic that Ehrman fails to inform his readers of Jesus, Interrupted that the reading he gives is very highly contested, and the view that Ehrman takes on this point is fringe. When representing a viewpoint that is considered a fringe position in scholarship to a popular audience, one has a duty, or so I would argue, to disclose to the readers that one is adopting an extremely minority position. Nonetheless, I will offer a brief discussion of Ehrman’s argument here.

Ehrman correctly recognizes that the textual variant in question occurs, in terms of Greek witnesses, only in codex Bezae. Although scholars generally do not take a reading to be original that occurs only in Bezae, in The Orthodox Corruption of Scripture Ehrman suggests that “orthodox scribes who could not abide [the text’s] adoptionistic overtones ‘corrected’ it into conformity with the parallel in Mark, ‘You are my beloved Son, in you I am well pleased’ (Mark 1:11),” (p. 62). Ehrman is of course correct that the reading found in Bezae may have offended later scribes due to its potential adoptionist undertones. However, as Tommy Wasserman notes[7],

…the argument can be turned around: the harmonization to Ps 2:7 in some witnesses may ultimately derive from an apocryphal source (from adoptionistic circles), in which the story was modified to include the full citation of Ps 2:7. As in Matt 3:15, this extra-canonical source affected some corners of the New Testament textual tradition.

In support of his preferred reading, Ehrman notes correctly that attestation can be found in various external sources. Those include Justin Martyr, Clement of Alexandria, Origen, Methodius, the Gospel according to the Hebrews, the Gospel according to the Ebionites, and the Didascalia. However, the evidential value of those sources in confirming Ehrman’s preferred reading is uncertain, since it is difficult to discern precisely what source(s) these writers were dependent on, and it is plausible that some features of these texts may be derivative from apocryphal sources. For example, the attestation in Justin Martyr may be found in Dialogue with Trypho chapter 88, though that same chapter mentions that, following Jesus’ descent into the water, “a fire was kindled in the Jordan.” Ehrman suggests that there is little doubt that Justin Martyr is alluding to Luke’s account because Justin writes that the Holy Spirit descended on Jesus in the form (εἴδει) of a dove, and this word is unique to Luke (footnote 87; p. 99). Tommy Wasserman, however, argues “that Justin or someone else before him has harmonized several sources to include synoptic as well as apocryphal elements.”[8]

Ehrman’s appeal to Origen as supporting his argument is quite misleading. Here is the relevant text (Orig., Comm. Jo. 1.32):

None of these testimonies, however, sets forth distinctly the Saviour’s exalted birth; but when the words are addressed to Him, “Thou art My Son, this day have I begotten Thee,” this is spoken to Him by God, with whom all time is to-day, for there is no evening with God, as I consider, and there is no morning, nothing but time that stretches out, along with His unbeginning and unseen life. The day is to-day with Him in which the Son was begotten, and thus the beginning of His birth is not found, as neither is the day of it.

It is not at all obvious that this text is referring to Jesus’ baptism. It could as well be alluding to Hebrews 1:5, which says, “For to which of the angels did God ever say, ‘You are my Son, today I have begotten you?” It could also be alluding to Hebrews 5:5, in which we read, “So also Christ did not exalt himself to be made a high priest, but was appointed by him who said to him, ‘You are my Son, today I have begotten you.’” It should, however, be admitted that Justin Martyr, Clement of Alexandria, the Gospel according to the Hebrews, the Gospel according to the Ebionites, and the Didascalia do explicitly connect Psalm 2:7 with Jesus’ baptism.

In regards to transcriptional probabilities, Ehrman notes that both readings can be interpreted as scribal harmonizations — either to Psalm 2:7 or to Mark 1:11 (p. 63). Ehrman suggests that it is more probable that a scribe would harmonize a passage such that it aligns with a parallel gospel account than with an Old Testament text. It is noteworthy, however, that scribal harmonization is a characteristic of Western witnesses, whereas they are found much more infrequently in Alexandrian witnesses. The variant reading under discussion here is primarily attested by Western witnesses. Interestingly, in Acts 13:33, which quotes Psalm 2:7, Bezae expands the quotation to include Psalm 2:8 as well.

Joseph Fitzmyer, in what is perhaps the best academic commentary on the gospel of Luke, notes that[9],

…despite the importance of Codex Bezae, that is not the best-attested reading; moreover, the similarity of wording between the more common reading (sy ei ho huios mou) and the Greek of Ps 2:7 (huios mou ei sy) was more likely the reason why scribes familiar with the Greek Psalter would have substituted this quotation, derived from a psalm often interpreted in the early Christian centuries as “messianic.” If the quotation of Ps 2:7 were authentic, the heavenly voice would be declaring Jesus to be God’s Son, relating him specifically to the royal, Davidic tradition of Israel. This would, indeed, suit Lucan theology in one sense. But it would be the only place in the NT in which Ps 2:7 would be applied to some event in the career of Jesus other than the resurrection. For it is otherwise used only of the risen Christ (see Acts 13:33; Heb 1:5; 5:5; cf. Rom 1:4).

My own view is that, while Ehrman’s preferred reading does have some plausibility, the balance of probabilities still tends to favor the reading found in the majority of English translations.

I should note at this point that, in their discussion of my remarks concerning this issue in my previous article, the podcast host, Derek Lambert, identified an accidental (but nonetheless important) typographical error in my article. In the quotation from Jesus, Interrupted (reproduced at the beginning of this section), which I had transcribed by hand, I had mistakenly skipped a line. Instead of transcribing Ehrman’s words as “I am taking here the original wording of the verse as found in some older manuscripts of the Bible, even though it is not found in most English translations),” (note the repetition of the word “found”; emphasis mine), my eye had skipped the words between the two “founds”, instead writing “I am taking here the original wording of the verse as found in most English translations).” I regret that I did not catch this while reading through my article before publication and I would like to apologize to Dr. Ehrman for this unfortunate mistake. It has since been corrected. This is in fact a very well documented cause of common scribal errors in ancient manuscripts, known as homeoteleuton (from the Greek, ὁμοιοτέλευτον, meaning “like ending”). Had I read the quotation carefully during proofreading, I would undoubtedly have caught it since it is obvious that Ehrman’s reading is not the one adopted by the majority of English translations. My remarks in the article in which the mistake occurred, however, are based on Ehrman’s original comments, and the typo did not bear on my remarks. I was disappointed with Ehrman’s uncharitable insinuation that this mistake may have been deliberate when it was quite obviously an accidental typographical error.

The Propriety of Harmonization

Although I am not committed to inerrancy as a matter of principle, I am an avid advocate of the practice of harmonization. Sources that have been demonstrated to be substantially reliable constitute evidence for their propositional claims. This is true whether dealing with a religiously significant text or otherwise. Therefore, if one identifies an apparent discrepancy between reliable sources (such as the gospels), the rational course of action is to search for a plausible way in which those texts may be harmonized. Though this practice is typically disavowed in Biblical scholarship, I think the scholarly bias against harmonization is quite unreasonable. I view harmonization as good, responsible scholarly practice, whether one is dealing with religiously significant sources or secular ones. Different sources that intersect in their reportage of a particular event should be allowed to illuminate and clarify one another. I also think that sources that have been otherwise demonstrated to be highly reliable should be given the benefit of the doubt when there is an apparent discrepancy. In my view, in such cases, reasonable harmonizations should be sought for as a first port of call and the author being in error should be concluded only if possible harmonizations are implausible. Lydia McGrew puts this point well[10]:

Harmonization is not an esoteric or religious exercise. Christians studying the Bible should not allow themselves to be bullied by the implication that they are engaging in harmonization only because of their theological commitments and hence are fudging the data for non-scholarly reasons. To the contrary, reliable historical sources can be expected to be harmonizable, and they normally are harmonizable when all the facts are known. Attempting to see how they fit together is an extremely fruitful method to pursue, sometimes even giving rise to connections such as the undesigned coincidences discussed in Hidden in Plain View. This is why I pursue ordinary harmonization between historical sources and why I often conclude that a harmonization is correct.

Readers who are interested in the case for the robust reliability of the gospel accounts are invited to read other articles I have published concerning this topic or listen to this interview.

An important consideration in regards to the assessment of harmonizations, often overlooked, is that the evidential weight of a proposed error or contradiction in Scripture relates not so much to the probability of anyone proposed harmonization but rather to the disjunction of the probabilities associated with each individual candidate harmonization. To take a simplistic example, if one has four harmonizations that each have a 10% probability of being correct, then the evidential weight of the problem is significantly less than if you only had one of those since the disjunction of the relevant probabilities would be 40%. Thus, the text would be only slightly more likely erroneous than not (and inductive arguments for substantial trustworthiness may tip the scales in favor of giving the author the benefit of the doubt). In reality, of course, the math is rather more complicated than this, since one has to consider whether any of the harmonizations are overlapping or would imply one another in such a way that the probabilities cannot be added to each other. Of course, if some of the disjuncts have a very low probability of being correct, then they will not be of much help.

Conclusion

Multiple times throughout the podcast, Ehrman points out that it is possible to make nearly any two contradictory texts harmonize if you try hard enough. This is true, but it is likewise possible to make nearly any two complementary texts contradict if you try hard enough. Ehrman has swung to the extreme that is the polar opposite of the fundamentalist. The great majority of Ehrman’s alleged examples completely disregard the principle of charity and assume the worst when perfectly plausible harmonizations are available. When two ancient sources talk about an event, it is a good scholarly practice to search for plausible harmonizations of points of tension before concluding that the sources in fact conflict with one another (especially when these sources prove to be generally otherwise reliable). For sure, we should not rule out a priori there may be discrepancies in the text. But we also should not assume from the outset that anything that appears at first blush to be in tension with another account must be a discrepancy.

Footnotes

[1] R. T. France, Matthew: An Introduction and Commentary, vol. 1, Tyndale New Testament Commentaries (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 1985), 302.

[2] Craig S. Keener, The IVP Bible Background Commentary: New Testament (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 1993), Mt 21:4–7.

[3] Lydia McGrew, The Mirror or the Mask: Liberating the Gospels from Literary Devices (Tampa, FL: Deward Publishing Company, Ltd, 2019), 272-282.

[4] William Paley and Edmund Paley, The Works of William Paley, vol. 2 (London; Oxford; Cambridge; Liverpool: Longman and Co.; T. Cadell; J. Richardson; Baldwin and Cradock; Hatchard and Son; J. G. & F. Rivington; Whittaker and Co.; Hamilton, Adams & Co.; Simpkin, Marshall, and Co.; Smith, Elder, and Co.; E. Hodgson; B. Fellowes; R. Mackie; J. Templeman; H. Washbourne; Booker and Dolman; J. Parker; J. and J. J. Deighton; G. and J. Robinson, 1838), 323.

[5] Bruce Metzger, A textual commentary on the Greek New Testament, second edition a companion volume to the United Bible Societies’ Greek New Testament (4th rev. ed.). (London; New York: United Bible Societies, 1994), 112-113.

[6] Bart D. Ehrman, The Orthodox Corruption of Scripture: The Effect of Early Christological Controversies on the Text of the New Testament (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1996).

[7] Tommy Wasserman, “Misquoting Manuscripts? The Orthodox Corruption of Scripture Revisited,” in The Making of Christianity — Conflicts, Contacts, and Constructions: Essays in Honor of Bengt Holmberg, ed. Magnus Zetterholm and Samuel Byrskog (Coniectanea Biblica: New Testament Series 47; Winona Lake, Eisenbrauns, 2012), pp. 325-50.

[8] Ibid.

[9] Joseph A. Fitzmyer, The Gospel according to Luke I–IX: Introduction, Translation, and Notes, vol. 28, Anchor Yale Bible (New Haven; London: Yale University Press, 2008), 485.

[10] Lydia McGrew, The Mirror or the Mask: Liberating the Gospels from Literary Devices (Tampa, FL: Deward Publishing Company, Ltd, 2019), 53-54.

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Luke Nix holds a bachelor’s degree in Computer Science and works as a Desktop Support Manager for a local precious metal exchange company in Oklahoma.

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