Showing posts with label Gospel of John. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Gospel of John. Show all posts

Thursday, March 04, 2021

The Eye of the Beholder: Available now!

I've been working like a beaver recently on the release of The Eye of the Beholder: The Gospel of John as Historical Reportage. That is to say, I've been doing interviews and posting about it, checking to see if it's available in Australia and the UK (it wasn't for a couple of days when I expected it to be), sharing content about it to social media, making videos, and so forth, while keeping life going otherwise.

I owe a lot to What's Wrong With the World for the space to publish a lot of related material in an earlier form over the past few years. Here is the Gospel of John tag there, if you want to read some of this for free in its beta version, as it were. I believe that all of that material up through May of 2020 or so has also been copied over to this blog (Extra Thoughts), as part of the archiving project last year, but it hasn't always been tagged. At least it is archived here, though.

The Eye of the Beholder was released on March 1, 2021, just this past Monday. For those of you who get info. about this from one of my blogs and/or aren't on Facebook, here are some relevant links, with apologies for making this post mostly a link dump. But believe me: There's tons of content at the links. First, how can you get the book itself? Here's the link at Amazon and here it is at Barnes & Noble. It makes no difference to my royalties or to my publisher's profits which site you buy it from. If you are in the UK, you can search Amazon, UK, for it, and the same (now) in both Australia and Canada. This is fitting, since I have endorsements from prominent scholars in all of those countries!

Of course, high-profile endorsers don't have to mean that I'm right, but at least they should mean that the book is worth a place at the table. I'm really humbly grateful to the Lord, and the endorsers, and my publisher, Nathan Ward, for the star-studded roster we got this time, including Stanley Porter, Thomas Schreiner, philosopher Bob Larmer, Paul N. Anderson, Alan Thompson, and more. Here are the endorsements in PDF. This should lay to rest various claims to the effect that my work is unworthy of attention due to my lack of such-and-such specific credentials. Nathan went out and asked for endorsements from Johannine and New Testament scholars whom I did not think of, or whom I would have expected to ignore the request due to their eminence or busyness, and he got them. (I'm reminded of a collect about "those things which for our unworthiness we dare not and for our blindness we cannot ask.") Some scholars also contacted me spontaneously after the publication of The Mirror or the Mask expressing interest in supporting my work. And in a couple of cases scholars' names were suggested to me by their former students: "You should contact professor so-and-so. I think he might be interested in your work."

One thing that we can't seem to get to work for love or money at Amazon is the "see inside" function. (At least not until it comes out in Kindle, perhaps in a year, at which point you will be able to see inside the Kindle version.) Perhaps one has to have a rich uncle who is good friends with Bezos to get See Inside The Book to work, but that's okay, because I anticipated that, and I have free samples, with publisher permission, available elsewhere. Here is Chapter I. Here is the Conclusion. Here is the Table of contents.

If you want to get a sense of the book in just three minutes, here is a trailer, for which I thank my eldest daughter, Bethel McGrew. Feel free to tweet or share that trailer everywhere, as it's the sort of thing that is intended for precisely that context.

If you want a meatier discussion of the contents of the book, here is a content tour of about twenty-five minutes.

And if you are really into long-form discussion, here is a two-hour interview I recorded with Thaddeus of the Youtube channel Reasoned Answers just a couple of days ago. This is the first long interview I have done on this book since its release, so thanks to Thaddeus for that opportunity.

I now have a separate author page on Facebook if you are on there and want to follow me that way. (And hey, if you're annoyed by my Covid posts and just want to see stuff about the New Testament and my books, this is a great way to separate those!) Note that Facebook is a little odd: Just clicking "like" or even "follow" on my Lydia McGrew, Author, page won't automatically make my new posts from that page pop up in your newsfeed unless you interact quite a bit. So if you really want to be sure to see everything, be sure to toggle your "follow" options to "subscribe" to get notifications when I post something new.

The Eye of the Beholder has something for everyone--pastor, layman, and scholar. So if you're interested in the question of the historicity of John, be sure to get a copy. I should also mention that my publisher is offering desk copies at a reduced rate (for physical, within the continental US) and free for e-copies (not to be promiscuously shared) to professors at Bible colleges and seminaries who teach relevant courses and are considering the book for a course. E-mail info@deward.com if you fall into that category.

In the words of the late Leon Morris, God has chosen to reveal himself in history, and it is there that we must find him. And that, I would add, is why these books needed to be written, and why St. John the evangelist wrote his book, too.

Tuesday, August 18, 2020

John--The Man Who Saw, now at RC

 

John--The Man Who Saw, now at RC

(Originally published at What's Wrong With the World. Link to original post at 'permalink' below.)

I have a new blog post on John's reliability as a guest blog post at Ratio Christi. In the interests of time, I'm not going to cross-post the entire thing, with links, but I will post the beginning here and put it under the "John" tag so that readers who browse the "John" tag here at W4 will find it.

In case you haven’t heard, the Gospel of John is different from Matthew, Mark, and Luke. But then again, maybe you’ve noticed this already! The other three Gospels often tell the same stories, sometimes even in similar words, while John goes his own way, often giving us information about what Jesus did and said that is found nowhere in the three Synoptic Gospels. Most of us who think of ourselves as evangelical Christians, especially if we self-identify as conservative Christians, never thought that that made John less historical, though. Not even a little bit. But you might be surprised at how widespread that view is, even among some scholars normally thought of as evangelical. For example, Craig A. Evans has said, when challenged by skeptic Bart Ehrman,


I suspect we don’t have too much difference on John. My view is the gospel of John is a horse of another color altogether. It’s a different genre.... So, I don’t disagree with you too much on that point. I think John is studded with historical details. Maybe you called them nuggets. That’s not a bad way of describing John. But I think the Synoptics are more than just some nuggets.

Evans has also said,

The principle source for material from which we may derive a portrait of the historical Jesus are the three Synoptic gospels--Matthew, Mark and Luke. They are called Synoptic because they overlap a lot, and we can see them together, which is what the Greek word means, see them together in parallel columns. John’s Gospel is another matter. What genre is it? It’s not another Synoptic Gospel, as some would like to think. All agree that there is some history in John, but is it primarily history, or is it something else?

See more here.

These questions about John’s robust historicity are understandably troubling to Christians for whom the Gospel is no less beloved than the other three, and often regarded as a great favorite. Do we really have to place these kinds of brackets around John because he might be of a partially non-historical genre?

For that matter, the Synoptic Gospels haven’t fared all that well when it comes to scholarly claims that they contain deliberate historical alterations. I have documented and rebutted such claims extensively, some of them from evangelical scholars whose names might be surprising, in my most recent book, The Mirror or the Mask. But John definitely comes in for an extra helping of doubt.

The wonderful thing is, though, that all this skepticism is misplaced. In fact, John demonstrates his historical intention constantly, both in his explicit statements (e.g., John 19:35) and in many subtle details.

Rest of the post is here.

What does it mean to say that John "tweaks" history?

 

What does it mean to say that John "tweaks" history?

(Originally published at What's Wrong With the World. Link to original post at 'permalink' below.)

My new book, The Mirror or the Mask: Liberating the Gospels From Literary Devices, will be available for pre-order very, very soon and fully "out" by December 10. In it, as readers of this blog know by now, I rebut claims that the Gospel authors knowingly and deliberately altered facts for literary or theological reasons. I also present and defend a nuanced, positive view of the Gospels' historicity that I dub the reportage model.

Another book, no doubt much more widely anticipated than mine, that was in press at approximately the same time and has recently come out is Christobiography, by eminent New Testament scholar Craig Keener. Because the two books were in press at overlapping times, I did not have access to the particular wording of his work that he put into Christobiography until after my own book was typeset. (I did give Dr. Keener the heads-up about my own work more than a year ago and urged him at that time to read it in blog post form.) The result of this partial overlap in the processing of the physical books is that my own research on Keener's work was based on a more scattered set of his many works--his commentaries on various books of the Bible and a 2016 anthology called Biographies and Jesus that he both edited and contributed to on the subject of the genre of the Gospels.

In Christobiography Keener has gathered up and summarized many of his views on these subjects, and I have now verified that he does not contradict his earlier writings on the topics I am discussing nor show a change in his views. I am also unable to find anywhere in this book where Keener anticipates my objections, answers them, or requires me to change my arguments. In fact, he repeats several of the points that I critique in The Mirror or the Mask, sometimes in similar wording. I just had to find them while writing The Mirror or the Mask by more arduous labor in his other works. He also expounds these views in more detail in the other works I have used for research. In Christobiography he also provides no new evidence for the claim that the Gospels are Greco-Roman bioi. Rather, as in the anthology Biographies and Jesus, Keener takes that genre as a given and seeks to place the Gospels' reliability within the range that he, Licona, and others believe was the normal range of historical reliability allowed by that genre. Christobiography also, even more than any of Keener's earlier works, defers explicitly to Michael Licona's book Why Are There Differences in the Gospels?, with numerous footnotes that "punt" to Licona's claims. Hence my detailed critique of Why Are There Differences in The Mirror or the Mask is pertinent to Christobiography as well.

Because Christobiography is so new, interviews and posts about it are popping up around the Internet, and these usually take the form of implying that the emphasis of the book and of Keener's theories and statements is entirely a positive one for the reliability of the Gospels. This article by Dr. Keener himself in Influence is an example.

And indeed, like many of Keener's other works, Christobiography claims that the Gospels are reliable. What is odd, however, is the combination of that statement with the repeated deference to Licona's views that the evangelists (frequently, according to Licona) considered themselves licensed to change the facts. And Keener himself, though seldom giving specific examples, will frequently move back and forth between strong statements about how reliable the Gospels are and vague allusions to flexibility and freedom in narration. (See esp. his Chapters 5, 11, and 13.)

Occasionally he actually comes down to specifics, though this occurs more often in his commentaries. And these specifics are troubling. He does so most of all (though not, I want to emphasize, exclusively) for the Gospel of John. His most recent common word for what he thinks John did with history is "tweaking."

My concern is that the ambiguity of Keener's writing (often more ambiguous than that of Licona) may cause readers to be unaware of what he is getting at and to think that his emphasis upon reliability is entirely solid and is qualified only in ways that no one but the wildest extremist could possibly object to. That is simply not the case. I have given some concrete examples in this earlier post.

A brief digression is probably necessary here about the fact that Dr. Keener wrote the foreword to my early 2017 book, Hidden in Plain View: Undesigned Coincidences in the Gospels and Acts. I am of course very grateful to Dr. Keener for that foreword and glad that he liked Hidden in Plain View. (Indeed, I hope that the sorts of considerations that he apparently appreciated in that book will eventually move him to change some of his other views.) At the same time, I do not regard a scholar's having written an endorsement of a book as a permanent bar to public criticism of that scholar's work by the author of the book. Keener himself is enough of a professional that I doubt very much that he would say that I should never publicly criticize his work because he blurbed an earlier work of mine. But my experience with the ardent followers of Dr. Licona indicates that some of them are likely to imply precisely that. Just as book endorsements are endorsements of ideas rather than mere expressions of positive personal feeling about the author, so too with disagreements. My criticisms of ideas are never attacks on persons, just as I do not ask for endorsements merely because people are my personal friends. I have done an enormous amount of research since Hidden in Plain View came out, especially in Keener's work. I have meticulously followed up his footnotes to original sources; I've found specific examples of his generalizations to discover what he means by them. This has been careful, thoughtful, time-consuming work. He and I have also had some personal e-mail communication. I realize now that Keener's work is a combination of statements that seem to me correct and statements and methodology that seem to me seriously flawed, and I think that it would be wrong to "play favorites." Indeed, Licona himself has repeatedly complained about "critics" (probably there referring to Dr. Geisler back in 2011 and following) who, Licona says, publicly criticized his work while giving others who agreed with him a free pass (perhaps there referring to William Lane Craig's endorsement of the proposition that John moved the Temple cleansing dyschronologically). As a post I just put up recently makes clear, Licona's own judgement about who agrees with him is far from infallible, since (since Dr. Geisler's death) he is unexpectedly trying to say that that arch-opponent actually agreed with the idea of fact-changing literary devices! But there is some truth to the claim that people do not always realize that there are high-profile evangelicals who do share at least some of Licona's views. I have therefore always tried to be consistent and even-handed in my willingness to disagree publicly and to criticize publicly and in detail, even if the person in question is someone whose capitulation to literary device theory surprises and grieves me. I'm under no illusions that doing so will gain me credit for fair-mindedness and consistency from Licona and his followers. I'm more likely to be tasked with ingratitude for daring to criticize Keener after he blurbed my earlier book! I can only make it clear that, no, I haven't forgotten that Keener wrote the foreword to Hidden in Plain View and that, nonetheless, it is more important to maintain clarity and to write in a scholarly fashion about serious problems where I see them. End of digression.

Keener's recent terminology for the changes that he thinks John made to history tends to downplay his own views. He refers to John's having "emphases" and exercising a "storyteller's surprise" and "tweaking" history. He says that John is "simply using a storyteller’s surprise, tweaking some details in the traditional passion narrative for theological points[.]" None of this is sufficiently clear. He does have a partial list of examples in the Influence article:

John omits the role of the disciples in Jesus finding a donkey (Mark 11:2; John 12:14).

John skips Jesus’ words about His body and blood and depicts Jesus as the Passover Lamb more directly (John 13:1, 18:28, 19:36).

In John, Jesus dips the bread and gives it directly to Judas (John 13:26) instead of Judas dipping it (Mark 14:20).

In John, Jesus rather than Simon carries Jesus’ cross (Mark 15:21; John 19:17).

Jesus’ final recorded cry in John sounds triumphant rather than pitiful (Mark 15:34; John 19:30).

Several of these are so trivial that it is only in the mind of an excessively literary theorist that they could be thought of as historical "tweaks" at all. The reference to Jesus as finding the donkey in John 12:14 is the most unremarkable abbreviation of the longer story told in Mark and is not remotely intended to give the impression that Jesus went personally, walked about, and found a donkey. This is a non-fictionalizing use of so-called transferral, which must be sharply and consistently distinguished from trying to make it look like person A did something when he really had someone else do it for him. There is not the slightest reason to think that it has any theological significance whatsoever. And the same for dipping the sop in the dish, as I discussed in the earlier post. Lots of people were doing a lot of dipping, and Jesus is merely referring in the Synoptics to the fact that his betrayer is eating with him at the table. John isn't trying to tweak anything there for any reason, much less a theological one.

I discuss at length both in the earlier post and in The Mirror or the Mask Keener's extremely strange idea that John deliberately suppresses the role of Simon of Cyrene so as to give a bent impression of history (that Jesus carried his own cross farther than he actually did) and thus make a theological point.

Here I want to focus on one item in this list, because it is so obscurely worded that a person who had no idea of Keener's other writings would simply not know what he means here. It is this item:

John skips Jesus’ words about His body and blood and depicts Jesus as the Passover Lamb more directly (John 13:1, 18:28, 19:36).

Okay, so John doesn't in fact narrate the institution of the Lord's Supper and he does in fact explicitly mention that John the Baptist called Jesus the lamb of God (John 1:29). Interesting that that isn't one of the references here. But why or how would one consider those to be "tweaks" in history? What is this item doing in the list along with the implication that John had Jesus dip the sop "instead of" Judas dipping it, and so forth? What is this item even about?

To know that, you have to read other places where a similar list occurs in Keener's works and his discussion elsewhere. Here is a similar list in his John commentary:

A close examination of the Fourth Gospel reveals that John has rearranged many details, apparently in the service of his symbolic message. This is especially clear in the Passion Narrative, where direct conflicts with the presumably widely known passion tradition (most notably that Jesus gives the sop to Judas, is crucified on Passover, and carries his own cross) fulfill symbolic narrative functions. (The Gospel of John: A Commentary, pp. 42-43)

Here is one in his Acts commentary. First, the main text:

Luke seems more likely to report the events as he has them from his tradition than does John. John takes significant liberties with the way he reports his events, especially in in several symbolic adaptations in the passion narrative ([footnote] 105), whereas Luke follows, where we can test him..., the procedures of a good Hellenistic historian....Keener, Acts: An Exegetical Commentary, vol. 1, p, 793

I note the phrase "significant liberties" which perhaps would not have fit so well as "tweaking" or "emphases" into the Influence article.

Here is footnote 105:

E.g., Jesus gives Judas the sop (John 13:26; contrast Mark 14:20); he appears to be executed on Passover (John 18:28; contrast Mark 14:14); he carries his own cross (John 19:17; contrast Mark 15:21).

I now note that the references Keener gives in the Influence article for claim that John "depicts Jesus as the Passover lamb more directly" are precisely those references that several NT scholars, including Keener in his other works, take to mean that John has changed the day of the Last Supper and Jesus' crucifixion. John 18:28 is listed in the Acts commentary to support the claim that in John, "Jesus appears to be crucified on Passover." That is clear enough, since Keener is definite that he is not crucified on Passover in the Synoptics. This is allegedly a "direct conflict."

Keener teaches in his John commentary that John deliberately narrated in such a way as to make it appear that Jesus was crucified on the day when the Passover lambs were killed, the first day of Passover, in contrast with the Synoptics, who indicate that he was crucified on the day after the Passover lambs were killed. This theory of counterfactual change in John's narrative is (unfortunately) quite popular even among some evangelicals, and Keener is a proponent of the view that John altered the day in order to emphasize the theological point that Jesus is the Passover lamb.

In his discussion in the John commentary he also tries to connect this with John's omission of the institution of the Lord's Supper. Here are some long quotes from his John commentary:

The announcement of both the “day of preparation for Passover” and the “sixth hour” (19:14) is significant for developing a Johannine hermeneutic consistent with the specific character of the Fourth Gospel’s intrinsic genre. This announcement signals to us that the Fourth Gospel’s passion chronology differs from that of the Synoptic tradition, probably already popular in John’s day (Mark 15:25).... Given John’s literary method elsewhere, we incline toward reading John symbolically rather than Mark. Members of John’s audience familiar with the traditional passion story presumably behind the Synoptics and Paul would have already noticed the difference at 18:28, a difference linking Jesus more directly with Passover. No longer do the symbolic bread and wine of the Last Supper represent Passover, but the death of Jesus itself does so directly (6:51–58). Biographies could exercise a degree of chronological freedom (see introduction, ch. 1), and John may adapt the chronology to infuse it with his symbolic message. In this Gospel Jesus is delivered over for crucifixion on the day the Passover lambs are being slaughtered (18:28). The Gospel of John: A Commentary pp. 1129-1130
[I]t seems better to read John’s final Passover chronology symbolically. Passover began at sundown with the Passover meal. Whereas in the Fourth Gospel Jesus is executed on the day of the Passover sacrifice preceding the evening meal (18:28; 19:14), the Synoptics present the Last Supper as a Passover meal, presupposing that the lamb has already been offered in the temple. Both traditions—a paschal Last Supper and a paschal crucifixion—are theologically pregnant, but we suspect that Jesus, followed by the earliest tradition, may have intended the symbolism for the Last Supper whereas John has applied the symbolism more directly to the referent to which the Last Supper itself symbolically pointed....John probably does know the same tradition as Mark. Whatever the traditions behind the Gospels, however, Mark’s and John’s approaches at least imply (perhaps for theological reasons) the Passover on different days, yet derive from it the same theology. The Gospel of John: A Commentary pp. 1100-1103

This, then, is what Keener's extremely cryptic reference in the Influence article means: John changed the day of the crucifixion (and hence the Last Supper) in his Gospel to something that was not factual, though he narrates it in what appears to be a realistic fashion. For some reason, though Keener says this clearly enough in his other writings, in the Influence article ostensibly saying how reliable the Gospels are, he refers to it in a manner so oblique that it is literally impossible to interpret without the help of his other works. A reader who tried to figure out why this is any kind of historical "tweak" at all, without access to the other things Keener has written on the subject, would be unable to do so and might think that Keener is not suggesting that John changed history at all.

Notice too that Keener tries to use the genre of Greco-Roman biography in his commentary to give readers the impression that they should expect such realistically narrated chronological changes in a biography. (I respond to these types of claims in great detail in The Mirror or the Mask.) But the impression one would get from the advertisement for Christobiography is that the identification of the Gospels as ancient biography strongly defends the historicity of the Gospels, not that it leads us to expect historical changes.

Another brief digression, since readers may be wondering: I don't think there is any real problem with the day of the crucifixion or Last Supper. Those who take John 13:1 to mean that the Last Supper as a whole took place before the Passover are both over-reading and mis-reading what that verse says. Those who take 18:28 to mean that the crucifixion took place on the first day of Passover are missing the fact (as Craig Blomberg points out in The Historical Reliability of John's Gospel, pp. 237-239) that if the leaders had contracted a ceremonial uncleanness from entering Pilate's hall they could probably have taken care of it by washing at sundown. This conclusion is supported by rules concerning ceremonial uncleanness in Leviticus 22:4-7 and Numbers 19:22. Therefore the ceremonial uncleanness they are concerned about is apparently one that would prevent them from eating a meal during the day rather than one that would prevent them from eating an evening meal. Therefore they appear to be concerned about some meal other than an evening Passover. Merely by putting John alone together with some Old Testament information one can conclude that John is not portraying this as the day when the Passover lambs were killed. Note that this point does not arise from a felt need to harmonize with the Synoptics but from informing one's understanding of John alone by OT information in order to understand what is really the most natural interpretation of John 18:28 all by itself and hence John's probable meaning. This point is one that neither Licona nor Keener addresses. John is narrating so artlessly that he isn't even considering that anyone (much less a largely Gentile set of readers looking for contradictions 2,000 years later) would think that by the reference to eating the Passover in 18:28 he is portraying this as the day when the Passover lambs were killed.

Consider, too, just how deviously John is supposed to be narrating here if he is really using 18:28 to "put" Jesus' crucifixion non-factually on the day when the Passover lambs were killed. He would have to be inventing an obscure scruple on the part of those conspiring against Jesus which they did not actually feel or express at the time and inserting this invention into the narrative as a hyper-subtle cue about what day this was in an attempt quite indirectly to make a point about Jesus as the Passover lamb.

"The preparation of the Passover," the phrase used in 19:14, is actually quite reasonably read as Friday in Passover week. "The preparation" is quite common as a designation for Friday. (See Blomberg, pp. 246-247.) Craig Blomberg has done an excellent job bringing together these relevant points and forcefully countering the idea that John goes out of his way to try to make this look like Jesus was crucified on the day when the Passover lambs were killed. Nor is Blomberg the only scholar to take this position. These arguments have been around for a long time and also seem to have convinced Andreas Kostenberger and D. A. Carson as well as older authors. End of digression.

Keener also believes and argues quite emphatically in his commentary that John (dyschronologically) moved the Temple cleansing. Keener is even dismissive of St. Augustine's opinion that it is "evident" that Jesus cleansed the Temple twice. (But remember: It's those of us who harmonize who are terribly anachronistic and don't understand ancient rhetorical standards!) I realize that the view that John dyschronologically moved the Temple cleansing has become increasingly popular; it is one of two fact-changing literary devices that even William Lane Craig has explicitly endorsed. But that shouldn't make us so ho-hum about that we don't pause to think about how odd it is for someone to be so confident of that (and Keener is extremely confident about it) and to base it upon the alleged genre of the Gospels and standards of the time (as Keener also, erroneously, does) while simultaneously confidently declaring the Gospels to be historically reliable because of their genre!

As discussed in the earlier post, Keener also has less common views about factual change--less common at least among evangelicals. He, followed by Licona, casts significant historical doubt upon the incident where Jesus breathes on his disciples and says, "Receive the Holy Ghost."

This last point sits especially uneasily with Keener's assurance to the readers of the Influence article that authors of biography were "were not supposed to make up events like novelists did." Does Jesus breathing on his disciples not count as an "event"? One hopes that Keener and others would not nitpick concerning the word "event." After all, what is the point of assuring people that the Gospel writers did not make up events if an entire, theologically freighted sub-incident in the course of one of Jesus' post-resurrection appearances might well be made up?

But more: Keener says in his Matthew commentary that Matthew duplicated an entire healing of two blind men, placing the duplicate incident early in Jesus' ministry, even though that incident did not happen at that time, and also narrating a healing of two blind men in Jericho later in Jesus' ministry. (The Gospel of Matthew: A Socio-Rhetorical Commentary, pp. 282, 306-307) If this duplication (creating an entire extra healing) does not count as making up events, what does? He also on the same pages says that Matthew duplicated blind men within the healing (in both places?) and the demoniacs healed in Matthew 8, a position that he alludes to more cryptically in Christobiography, pp. 317-318. Should we think of the Gospel authors as reliable if they made up people within events?

As I have often said, a major problem with the way that the "Greco-Roman biography" thesis is used, aside from the historical question of whether it is true, is that scholars like Licona and Keener use it to set a ceiling for how historical the Gospels are. They present the thesis as entirely a defense of the historicity of the Gospels, but they use it again and again to argue that the Gospels should be expected to contain at least such-and-such an amount of deliberate factual alteration. That is what I mean by setting a ceiling on historicity. In fact, Licona has said this:

The majority of New Testament scholars agree that, at minimum, the Gospels share much in common with the genre of Greco-Roman biography. Therefore, it should be of no surprise to observe the Gospel authors using the compositional devices that were part-and-parcel of that genre. In fact, we should be surprised if we did not observe it.

In other words, we should positively expect to find some realistically narrated, deliberate factual changes in the Gospels if they are in this genre or even have much in common with this genre. Keener in Christobiography appears to concur, a conclusion that might well surprise readers of the recent reviews and announcements of the book.

For that isn't exactly the impression readers would get from the Influence article about Christobiography. Most troubling of all are euphemisms and deeply coded statements that obscure the content of Keener's claims. A scholar purporting to educate laymen about the flexibility that the Gospel authors had in their narration at least should tell his readers in plain English what he is saying that the authors did. He should do that even if using plain language creates tension with the overall message he wants to convey--namely, that he is defending the reliability of the documents. His audience has a right, at least, to clarity. If they then begin to have their doubts about the reliability of documents in which authors are expected to make such deliberate, invisible changes, that is their right as well. Then, perhaps, they can begin to ask themselves whether these claims about genre and flexibility are true and justified after all. For information on that question, I recommend The Mirror or the Mask.

The realism of Jesus' dialogues in John

 

The realism of Jesus' dialogues in John

(Originally published at What's Wrong With the World. Link to original post at 'permalink' below.)

Scholars will sometimes imply that the dialogues in John are artificial by saying that the misunderstandings of Jesus’ interlocutors provide an opportunity for Jesus to develop his theological ideas further. Even when a scholar does not say so explicitly, it is difficult to avoid hearing the implication that John at least partially invented the audience confusions, questions, and interruptions to “set up” Jesus’ further theological expositions, as if the interlocutors are two-dimensional stooges. For example, with reference to how John “develops” Jesus’ “discourses,” Craig Keener says,

As Dodd and others have noted, John develops most of his discourses the same way: Jesus’ statement, then the objection or question of a misunderstanding interlocutor, and finally a discourse (either complete in itself or including other interlocutions). John usually limits speaking characters to two (a unified group counting as a single chorus) in his major discourse sections, as in Greek drama. (The Gospel of John: A Commentary, p. 68)
This gives a rather surprisingly artifical impression.

Similarly, Keener says, “Such misunderstanding serves as a dramatic technique allowing the primary teacher the occasion to expound the point more fully” (p. 546). (Digression: As I’ve noted in other posts on John, scholars have a special, just-constructed-for-John use of the term “discourses” that includes conversations. This definition is not applied to the Synoptics, which is then used to argue that there are lots more “long discourses” in John than in the Synoptics--an instance of the kind of strange reasoning with which NT scholarship is unfortunately rife. Keener’s description here shows part of the rationale for this just-for-John definition of “discourses.” Scholars believe that there is a special pattern that unites the conversations and speeches in John that is artificial in appearance and distinctively Johannine.)

Certainly there are cases where Jesus uses the misunderstanding of an interlocutor as an opportunity for further explanation. But so would any good teacher in literal history. It is rather frustrating that the relevance and aptness of Jesus’ answers, even their cleverness, should be taken as an opportunity to imply that the dialogue is constructed rather than naturally occurring. Indeed, it is worth asking what, precisely, a dialogue between a good teacher, known for extremely cryptic statements, and either a confused or a hostile interlocutor would look like if it were recognizably historical, and how that would differ from what we have in John.

In the dialogue with Nicodemus, Nicodemus does ask how a man can enter again into his mother’s womb and be born (John 3.4), and Jesus does answer by saying that one needs to be born of the Spirit (John 3.5). In one of the final conversations with his disciples before his crucifixion, Jesus almost seems deliberately to provoke a baffled question by telling his disciples that they know where he is going and the way to go there (John 14.4). Thomas, in perhaps understandable exasperation, says that this is not so. They do not know where he is going, so how can they know the way? (John 14.5) Jesus immediately picks up on the opportunity to utter, “I am the way, the truth and the life; no one comes to the Father but through me.” (John 14.6)

Does the aptness of these bits of dialogue cast doubt upon their recognizable historicity? Not at all. All four Gospels show that Jesus was a rather frustrating person, given as he was to cryptic sayings. He probably knew very well how to interact with his disciples in precisely this way, and did so intentionally.

Moreover, the implication that the dialogues in John appear artificial through an overly pat consonance between question and answer, misunderstanding or interruption, and further explanation rests on cherry-picked data. The dialogues, looked at more carefully, have the somewhat random characteristics of realistic conversation, and there are many places in John where interruptions and misunderstandings do not really further the topic previously under discussion at all. The woman at the well in John 4.19-20 changes the subject entirely. When Jesus gets too close to her personal life, she veers off into flattering him by calling him a prophet and asking him where he thinks they should worship. Jesus allows her to change the subject and follows her into the new topic, prophesying the destruction of Jerusalem (and Gerizim) and saying that the true worshipers are those who worship God in spirit and in truth. In John 7.34, Jesus says that they will seek and not find him. His listeners muse over what he is saying: Is he saying that he will go and teach the Greeks in the diaspora? This misunderstanding does not further the conversation at all. It is the end of that particular discussion.

The so-called “Light of the World Discourse” is a particularly good example of the rocky, realistic properties of the conversations in John. Jesus declares that he is the light of the world, but in John 8.13, the interruption takes the conversation in a different direction from what Jesus was following before. There actually is no dialogue or discourse at all on how or whether Jesus is the light of the world. The hostile listeners “go meta” by accusing Jesus of arrogance for testifying of himself. They may be remembering something Jesus said during a different feast (John 5.31) in which he said that his testimony is not true if he testifies of himself, attempting to use those words against him. As with the woman at the well, Jesus follows them into the new topic and discusses his right to testify of himself. In vs. 21, Jesus says that he is going away and that they cannot follow him. They wonder (vs. 22) whether he will kill himself. In his reply (vss. 23-24), Jesus does not really explain his misunderstood words about going away. By the time we reach vs. 48, some in the crowd are simply angry (probably because Jesus told them that the devil rather than Abraham was their father in vs. 44) and utter a contentless insult. This is not the only time that Jesus encounters hecklers. In this case, Jesus answers the insult (that he is demon possessed) directly and keeps repeating that they are dishonoring him, adding the claim that anyone who obeys his word will never see death. This hardly looks like an artificial dialogue. The disrespect of the crowd in this chapter and Jesus’ sometimes stubborn, angry, and insulting responses hardly give the impression of an unruffled sage engaging in a smooth dialogue with a two-dimensional “chorus” constructed as a literary foil.

Someone in the grip of the theory that John constructs dialogues to give Jesus a chance to develop theological themes might think that Martha’s misunderstanding of Jesus’ promise to raise Lazarus (John 11.24) is too good to be true, a literarily constructed set-up for Jesus to say, “I am the resurrection and the life” (John 11.25). But upon further reflection, one should realize that it was quite natural for her to think that Jesus was referring to the resurrection at the last day, a common view in Jewish thought at the time, as N. T. Wright has shown. And in the larger picture, Martha’s misunderstandings in the passage as a whole are quite realistic. Her boldness and practicality when she remonstrates with Jesus about opening the tomb, on the grounds that Lazarus’ body must stink by this time (John 11.39), are entirely consistent with her personality as portrayed both in John and in Luke 10.38-42. Martha certainly doesn’t look like a two-dimensional interlocutor that John has constructed for Jesus to bounce sage-like sayings off of.

Cherry picking is one of the major banes of New Testament studies. For example, I've shown that several claims of "development" in the Gospels rely on cherry picking. (See here and here.)

Cherry picking passes without serious challenge in NT scholarship often because too many scholars in the discipline lack the analytical epistemology training to ask whether the data is cherry picked. There is also an unfortunate tendency to assume that, if some scholar can think up a theory, that theory is automatically epistemically respectable. Hence, the mere suggestion that John "develops" his dialogues by "having" the interlocutors ask questions that Jesus can answer, and one or two apparent examples, are treated as enough to make the theory a very live contender indeed.

What all this points to is the need for fresh perspectives on NT studies and a higher degree of rigor in evaluating proposed theories. It would also be extremely helpful if scholars would come out and say more explicitly and clearly what they are getting at and what they think a given evangelist did. Then we could decide whether the theory in question is supported by the evidence. I hope to bring that fresh perspective in my blog posts, Facebook posts, and next two books.

Be on the lookout for The Mirror or the Mask: Liberating the Gospels from Literary Devices, available for pre-order November 20 of this year and coming out physically in December.

This post itself has been a draft of material that is slated to appear perhaps a year later in The Eye of the Beholder, entirely on the Gospel of John.

Be sure to follow my public content on Facebook for updates! (You do not have to be a Facebook "friend" to follow public content, though it appears that you do need to have a Facebook account of your own and be logged in.)

The prophecy dilemma for literary device theorists

 

The prophecy dilemma for literary device theorists

(Originally published at What's Wrong With the World. Link to original post at 'permalink' below.)

Recently Esteemed Husband and our friend Tom Gilson did a webinar for Apologetics Academy. I watched some of the livestream on Youtube. During such livestreams there is always some chat going on "on the side" in the comments, and this time a skeptic commentator was throwing in various questions, many of them irrelevant to what Tim and Tom were actually saying. One of his comments was something to this effect: Since the Gospel authors believed that Jesus fulfilled prophecy, wouldn't this have motivated them to invent things that never happened in order to be able to say that prophecy was fulfilled?

Since he is an outright skeptic, presumably he would have no qualms about saying that a Gospel author who did that was simply lying and was motivated by the desire to serve a religious cause by deceiving his audience. Still, one might ask him in that case why the evangelists believed in Jesus themselves, and in particular in his fulfillment of prophecy, if they knew that they had to invent things in order to "make" him fulfill prophecy. The skeptic would, one guesses, at that point have to fall back upon some generic statement to the effect that people, especially religious people, don't always think rationally about these things and may simultaneously believe in their religion and also believe that they are morally justified in lying to further it. Bart Ehrman has said this in so many words about early Christians. To my mind it is an unconvincing answer, particularly about the evangelists who were writing the very first memoirs of Jesus and claimed to have known him. At the founding of a religious movement, the distinction between "charlatan" and "sucker who listens to charlatan" is more stark and obvious, even to not-always-rational human beings. And if the evangelists were charlatans, their motivation is extremely difficult to figure out, given the initially low status and persecution of Christianity and the fact that they could have avoided much trouble for themselves had they not accepted and promoted Christianity.

But matters are difficult in a different way for the Christian literary device theorists whose work I am critiquing in my forthcoming books, The Mirror or the Mask and The Eye of the Beholder.

For the Christian scholar who holds that John or other evangelists sometimes tweak the facts or even invent things in order to make theological points emphatically does not want to say that the evangelists were deceivers. These scholars lean heavily on the word "genre" to help them to thread this needle. As Craig A. Evans says to Bart Ehrman, speaking of John's Gospel, "I object to saying it’s not historically accurate. Well, if something isn’t exactly historical, how is it not historically accurate? It’d be like saying, 'You mean the parable, the parable was a fiction Jesus told? It’s not historically accurate?'"

In other words, John's Gospel, like a parable, is not rightly judged by standards of historical accuracy at all. As Evans said later in response to a question from the audience, "And so the Johannine sayings, the distinctive ones, with a few exceptions, they’re the ones that look like, as I said earlier, a different genre altogether, something that only incidentally has historical material in it, but otherwise is a completely different type of literature..."

But the whole point of "another genre" is that the original audience itself is not led into thinking that these things really happened. Jesus' original audience didn't believe that the Prodigal Son was a real person, for example.

So if "genre" is to function in the way that the literary device theorists want it to function, the original audience is supposedly not misled by the ahistorical narrative, because they take the whole thing with enough grains of salt that they don't take all of the events to be historical, even when woven seamlessly into the rest of the document.

But consider the dilemma this creates concerning prophecy. I could choose here almost any prophecy that Jesus is said to fulfill, since the literary device theorists' method would mean that (as in a movie only "based on true events") we can put a question mark over almost anything in the narrative. The fact that the legs of the thieves were broken but that Jesus' legs were not, for example. Why should we take that to have really happened if John was wont to modify his narrative and add things for theological reasons? And the event is only singly attested. It is found only in John's Gospel.

Here are two things that actually are questioned by Christian, evangelical scholars: 1) That Jesus literally said, "I thirst" from the cross is questioned by Daniel B. Wallace and by Michael Licona. In his unpublished paper on the subject, Wallace expressly relates his questioning of the historicity of this event to the fulfillment of prophecy, though the exact connection in Wallace's mind is extremely obscure. It is apparently related to Wallace's strange idea that John would not want to record either Jesus making a literal expression of thirst (though it appears that John has done exactly that!) or his cry of, "My God, why have you forsaken me?" as in the Synoptics. So Wallace claims that, when John says that Jesus said, "I thirst" to fulfill Scripture, it is Psalm 22:1 that is fulfilled (where the Psalmist says, "My God, why have you forsaken me?"), but that John has made this fulfillment somewhat difficult to see by making up substitute words--namely, Jesus' expression of thirst. (Wallace, "Ipsissima Vox and the Seven Words from the Cross," unpublished, pp. 7-8. For some exact quotations, see here.) 2) Both Michael Licona and Craig Keener suggest that Jesus did not literally breathe out on his disciples and say, "Receive the Holy Spirit" as recorded in John 20:22. Keener is somewhat more ambivalent and unclear as to whether there might have been some real "encounter with the Spirit" that lies behind this passage, but he certainly calls its historicity into question. Yet at the same time, Keener insists that this breathing must, in John's Gospel, provide "fulfillment of [Jesus'] Paraclete promises" that Jesus has made earlier that he will send the Spirit. (Keener, commentary on John, p. 1200). In other words, maybe the event didn't happen at all, but John put it into his Gospel to fulfill Jesus' prophecies that he would send the Holy Spirit!

So this issue of prophetic fulfillment is not just something I am making up. It is a real and acute difficulty for literary device theorists.

Let's apply some analytical clarity to the matter. The evangelists narrate many supposed fulfillments of prophecy. For any given alleged fulfillment, there are the following possibilities:

The evangelist expected his readers to believe that the event happened.

The evangelist did not expect his readers to believe that the event happened.

At this point I fully expect some pedantic readers to point out that maybe the author thought some of his readers might be confused but most would not, to point out that "readers" and "audience" are not monolithic terms, and so forth. But unless we have some concept or other of what the majority of the original audience would have understood, what a typical member would have understood, and what the author expected them to understand, then we cannot talk about genre at all. In other words, such generalizations are needed for everyone in the discussion, and indeed literary device theorists desperately need such generalizations, for they are the ones telling us all that "the original audience" wouldn't have minded such-and-such, or would have expected these sorts of changes, and so forth. So take it that when I ask what the author thought his audience would believe, I am using some such category as "the majority of his audience," "the audience for which he desired to write," "the typical members of his audience." This would be similar to what we would mean if we talked about a movie "based on true events." We would point out that people who go to such movies, steeped in our own culture, are "supposed to" understand that some things have been factually changed, even if they don't know what those things are. While there might be some outliers, such as children or people who have never stopped to consider what a "movie version" really is, there is supposed to be a general consensus in the audience, on which the movie-makers can rely, that the movie is not entirely factual.

Now let us further suppose, to set up the dilemma, that the evangelist himself did not believe that the event happened. Suppose, for example, that John did not really think that Jesus literally stood on earth before his disciples, breathed out, and said, "Receive the Holy Spirit."

Then, not believing it himself, he either did or did not expect his readers, seeing that he narrated it, to believe it.

Suppose that he did expect them to believe that it happened. In that case, John is a deceiver. He wants his readers to think that Jesus did something at that time that in fact he himself believes that Jesus did not do. According to Keener, the idea is supposed to be to narrate the fulfillment of Jesus' promises about the Holy Spirit. (This, by the way, is a highly implausible theory, since Jesus' promises about the Holy Spirit in John make it clear that he himself will not be physically present when he sends the Holy Spirit. So in terms of the theology taught in John's Gospel itself, this would not even appear to be a fulfillment. But set that aside for now.) If John wanted his audience to believe that this happened and that the promises were fulfilled in this way, then he is knowingly misleading them, and the literary device theorist who accepts this option can no longer express outrage when we say that, on his theory, the evangelists were liars. One wonders in that case why we should think of a deliberately lying Gospel as divinely inspired at all.

On the other hand, suppose that John, believing that the event didn't happen, did not expect his readers to believe it either. In that case, what's the point? In that case, nobody in the situation thinks that there was a real-life action of Jesus that looked like this that fulfilled the prophecy in question. Is the function of the narrative then supposed to be like that of some known-to-be-apocryphal story? Does it just cause us to reflect on how great it is that the Holy Spirit exists?

And why, we might ask, should we then independently believe that we ourselves are empowered by the Spirit? If the narrative in John is just a bit of pious fiction and would have been accepted as such (or at least suspected to be such) by its original audience, what then is our evidence for our own empowerment by the Spirit? After all, Jesus' own words, especially in John, are often called into question by the same scholars. Did Jesus ever clearly promise to send the Holy Spirit at all?

Or take another prophecy--the one about Jesus' bones not being broken. As already noted, if John tended to add things to his narrative for theological reasons, and if he modified his crucifixion narrative in particular (per Wallace) by adding words that Jesus never said, and if John's "genre" is such that we should not assume that the events it appears to narrate in all sobriety really occurred, how confident should we be that the thieves' legs were broken but that Jesus' legs were not?

Then, once again: If John believed that these parts of the narrative did not occur, did he expect his readers and hearers to believe that they did? If so, then he is a deceiver. If not, and if he was right, then for all his readers could tell those parts of the narrative do not really fulfill any prophecy. Prophecy is fulfilled only if an event really happens that fulfills prophecy. No event in history, no fulfillment. If neither John nor his readers believed that there was a real fulfillment as described in the narrative (the thieves' legs were broken, but Jesus' legs were not), then the narrative does not show that Jesus fulfilled prophecy.

But the apostles were constantly preaching that Jesus fulfilled prophecy. Jesus' fulfillment of prophecy was very important to their message to their fellow Jews. And there is every reason to take the evangelists (some of whom almost certainly were apostles themselves) to be at one with the apostles in their attitude on this matter. Real prophetic fulfillment was central to the founding of Christianity as it originated in Judaism. Why would we think that John and his original audience would think that there was any point whatsoever in the narration of a pseudo-fulfillment grounded in made-up facts?

This argument, of course, is the same argument that I have made in other posts under the heading "Fake Points Don't Make Points." Here I am putting it into the form of a dilemma in order to encourage us to think clearly about the issues involved.

As Julius Africanus (Christian historian, circa A.D. 160-240) said about the alleged attempt to use fake points for religious purposes in Jesus' genealogies,

Nor shall an assertion of this kind prevail in the Church of Christ against the exact truth, so as that a lie should be contrived for the praise and glory of Christ. For who does not know that most holy word of the apostle also, who, when he was preaching and proclaiming the resurrection of our Saviour, and confidently affirming the truth, said with great fear, If any say that Christ is not risen, and we assert and have believed this, and both hope for and preach that very thing, we are false witnesses of God, in alleging that He raised up Christ, whom He raised not up? And if he who glorifies God the Father is thus afraid lest he should seem a false witness in narrating a marvellous fact, how should not he be justly afraid, who tries to establish the truth by a false statement, preparing an untrue opinion? For if the generations are different, and trace down no genuine seed to Joseph, and if all has been stated only with the view of establishing the position of Him who was to be born—to confirm the truth, namely, that He who was to be would be king and priest, there being at the same time no proof given, but the dignity of the words being brought down to a feeble hymn,—it is evident that no praise accrues to God from that, since it is a falsehood, but rather judgment returns on him who asserts it, because he vaunts an unreality as though it were reality.

Answering the Messianic Secret argument against John

 

Answering the Messianic Secret argument against John

(Originally published at What's Wrong With the World. Link to original post at 'permalink' below.)

One remaining argument against John's historicity that I haven't yet dealt with in this series on John is the idea of the "Messianic secret."

In the Synoptic Gospels we often find Jesus telling the disciples or the recipient of a miracle not to tell others that he is the Messiah or not to tell about a miracle. For example, Matthew 16:20 shows him charging the disciples not to tell anyone that he is the Messiah after Peter's famous confession to that effect. In Mark 5:43 Jesus tries to hush up the news of his having healed Jairus's daughter. In Mark 7:37 Jesus tries (ineffectively) to stop the wide publication of his healing of a deaf man.

These prohibitions by Jesus are seen by those making the Messianic secret argument as a general attempt to conceal his identity. Usually the idea is that he concealed his identity until the Triumphal entry into Jerusalem in the last week of his life, when he was killed swiftly thereafter.

On this theory, there is a tension between John and the Synoptic Gospels, since Jesus repeatedly and (relatively) explicitly emphasizes his unity with God the Father in John, as in the famous declarations in John 8:58, "Before Abraham was, I am" and John 10:30, "I and the Father are one." After both of these, Jesus is nearly stoned by outraged crowds for his perceived blasphemy. Also in John 4:26, Jesus expressly identifies himself as the Messiah to the Samaritan woman at the well.

If Jesus was so "cagey" about his identity as shown in the Synoptic Gospels, then (goes the argument) he would not have been so forthright as is shown in the Gospel of John. So in some sense John must be only semi-historical (at most) at these points.

We find a version of this argument, interestingly, spelled out by Michael Licona about a year ago (fall, 2017) in a post in defense of Craig Evans's 2012 statements calling into question Jesus' "I am" sayings. Here is Licona:

By no means does this mean John is historically unreliable. It means that John is often communicating Jesus’ teachings in a manner closer to a modern paraphrase than a literal translation. Stated differently, John will often recast Jesus saying something explicitly the Synoptics have Him saying implicitly. For example, one does not observe Jesus making his “I am” statements in the Synoptics that are so prominent in John, such as “Before Abraham was, I am” (John 8:58). That’s a pretty clear claim to deity. Mark presents Jesus as deity through His deeds and even some of the things He says about Himself. But nothing is nearly as overt as we find in John. Granted, the Synoptics do not preserve everything Jesus said. However, in all four Gospels, Jesus is cryptic in public even pertaining to His claim to be the Messiah. In Matthew 16:16-20 // Luke 9:20-21, Jesus charged His disciples that they should tell no one that He is the Messiah. In Luke 4:41, Jesus would not allow the demons to speak because they know He is the Messiah. In John 10:23-25, Jesus is walking in the temple when some Jews gathered around Him and said, “How long will you keep us in suspense? If you are the Messiah, tell us plainly.” Now, if Jesus was hesitant to announce publicly that He is the Messiah, we would not expect for Him to be claiming to be God publicly and in such a clear manner as we find John reporting.

Later Licona clarified that he himself was undecided on this matter and was merely presenting an argument that moves scholars in this direction. More recently (listen here beginning at about 8:30), he has said that "if someone put a gun to [his] head" he would go in the direction of saying that these passages in John were probably "paraphrases" in this very expansive sense. Presumably this "messianic secret" argument would be part of the reason for that inclination, since it is the argument already given.

I have emphasized repeatedly that this use of the "messianic secret" argument must inform our understanding of the way in which Licona (and Evans) use the term "paraphrase." It must be emphasized that there is no scene whatsoever in the Synoptic Gospels that is like the scene in John 8 or John 10. When, for example, in Mark 2 Jesus claims to have the power to forgive sins, which implies his deity, it is in a completely different context, place, and time. It is in the context of his healing a paralyzed man in Galilee (the one who was let down through the roof), while the incidents in John 8 and John 10 occur in Jerusalem and come at the end of Jesus' speaking either to or in dialogue with the crowds, not in the context of any healing at all, much less the healing of the paralytic recorded in Mark 2. Nor is there anything any closer to John's scenes anywhere in the Synoptics. If Mark 2 (or any other scene in the synoptics, or a combination of a set of scenes in the synoptics) is Jesus "making claims implicitly" and John's entirely different scenes are "recasting" him as "saying something explicitly," then what this amounts to is John's invention of incidents, not a "paraphrase" in any ordinary sense of the word whatsoever. And the very argument that Licona gives makes this clear. For "claiming to be God publicly and in such a clear manner as we find John reporting" is the very essence of the scenes in John. If John's incidents are accounts of historical incidents in any recognizable sense, then they do indeed show Jesus "claiming to be God publicly and in such a clear manner." That is precisely what John is reporting. So if Jesus would not do that and did not do that, then John is reporting in an historically false manner. Which would, by the way, mean that John is indeed historically unreliable, and on a very important matter, too.

But what about the argument? Can we say that the "Jesus of the Synoptics" was trying to hide his identity and that the "Jesus of John" is revealing the "Messianic secret" too soon, so they cannot be the same Jesus?

Certainly it is easy to encounter a sense that there is something especially questionable about these portions of John, and Bart Ehrman will hammer on them in debates, blatantly using an argument from silence concerning their absence from the Synoptic Gospels, seeking to get his opponents to back down on those portions of the Gospel.

It should go without saying that a mere argument from the absence of the sayings in the Synoptic Gospels is poor. With that understood, the first thing that must be stressed in answer to the Messianic secret argument is that there were various aspects to Jesus' identity. To say that Jesus charges the disciples in the Synoptic Gospels not to tell others that he is the Messiah and charges the recipients of (some) miracles not to tell others about the miracles is not the same as saying that he doesn't want anyone to know anything about his identity. Jesus was not stupid. He knew quite well that his identity was a matter of talk and speculation, and it is on that basis that he asks the disciples in Matthew 16 who men say that he is. The very fact that he tells the recipients of miracles that they should believe in his healing abilities (see Mark 9:23-24, Mark 5:36) shows that he knew quite well that they had heard of those abilities.

Moreover, to say that he was equal with God or was the "I am" of the Old Testament was not the same thing and not likely to have the same effect as claiming to be the Messiah. Messianic expectations were very high among the Jews, particularly in the Galilee region, and were (with some excuse, based on OT passages) national and military in nature. As we see in John itself, claiming to be equal to God was likely to get a man stoned. Claiming to be the Messiah might get him acclaimed as king.

It is true that, in the Synoptics, Jesus orders the demons to be silent when they cry out that he is the Son of God and/or the "Holy one of God." (Mark 1:24, 34, Luke 4:41) But it appears based upon Peter's confessions of Jesus that these expressions were sometimes used in a Messianic sense (John 6:69, Matthew 16:16), and Luke 4:41 expressly states that Jesus told the demons to be silent because they knew that he was the Messiah.

The claims to deity made in the scenes in John 8 and John 10 are somewhat different. While they could be taken as extrapolated and overblown claims to Messiahship, it is quite evident that the crowds took them rather as blasphemous claims to deity. In fact, Jesus plays on the very possibility of this ambiguity by "trolling" the crowds in John 10:31-39, teasing them as if he has merely claimed to be the "Son of God" and as if this is supported by "you are gods" in Psalm 82:6. (Surely this is one of the most surprising "defenses" one can imagine for Jesus to make of himself, especially given John's notorious "high Christology," and therefore all the more likely to be historical. This is a point that Leon Morris borrows from Godet, in Morris's Studies in the Fourth Gospel, pp. 167-168)

It is from John 6:15 that we learn that there was a danger that the crowds in Galilee would attempt to make Jesus king by force. In this sense (as Craig Blomberg has noted) John actually explains the so-called "Messianic secret" of the Synoptics, rather than being incompatible with it. (This could even be regarded as an undesigned coincidence.)

So to begin with, any appearance of conflict between a "more open" Jesus in John and a secretive Jesus in Mark arises from speaking too generally about Jesus' "identity" rather than more specifically about his Messiahship. It was his Messiahship that was likely to be misunderstood and bring about attempts to make him king. We might think that there is some sort of "so much the more argument" here: If he was concerned not to let his Messiahship be widely proclaimed too soon, how much the more would he try to avoid proclaiming his deity in such a clear a manner as we find John reporting? Indeed, Licona's argument says almost precisely that. But that is anachronistic thinking. Nobody was going to rush to proclaim him an earthly king because they heard that he said that he was God.

The second point, which is often made in response to the "Messianic secret" argument, is the specifically "hot" nature of the region of Galilee and the fact that it is in Galilee and in the north generally that Jesus is trying to squelch rumors of his Messiahship. This is certainly true, and the feeding of the five thousand, after which they did try to make Jesus king, occurred in the north.

But (to be consistent with the previous point), we actually do not find Jesus proclaiming his Messiahship even in Jerusalem early in his ministry, either. So the issue is partly one of content and only partly one of geography.

Third, we do have the incident with the woman at the well in John. Jesus states to her in so many words that he is the Messiah. What about that? Well, were the Samaritans likely to think that he was going to set up an earthly kingdom for them? The woman's own words to Jesus, after they have spoken about where worship is to take place and Jesus has said that they who worship God must worship him in spirit and truth, indicate a somewhat different concept of the Messiah:


The woman said to him, “I know that Messiah is coming (he who is called Christ). When he comes, he will tell us all things.” John 4:25

This indicates more of a prophetic than a military expectation, a suggestion confirmed by what the woman actually did and by the actions of the people in the village. She went into the village and told the men, "Come, see a man who told me all I ever did." And the people of the village listened gladly to his words. There is not even any record of healings (though healings may have taken place), much less of an attempt to make him king. In contrast, the Jews did tend to plot the downfall of Rome, a point highlighted by the leaders' self-serving argument for killing Jesus in John 11:47ff: "If the people think he is the Messiah and start a revolt, Rome will come and destroy us."

When we put together all of these considerations, we get a coherent picture based upon all of our evidence: Jesus wanted to avoid misunderstandings of his messiahship, so he tried to limit the extent to which rumors spread that he was the Messiah in times and places where they were particularly likely to spark military ambitions and expectations. In contrast, he did want to teach that he was God Incarnate, and there was no similar danger that such an implication or declaration would cause his audience to declare him to be an earthly king. Therefore, he (at times) implied his deity (as in his claim to have power to forgive sins in Mark 2) and at times declared it more openly (as in John 8 and John 10).

There is, then, no contradiction between John and the Synoptic Gospels on this point. Therefore, the alleged tension with the "Messianic secret" can be set aside as a reason for doubting Jesus' statements of his own deity in John.

Remember: The incident-by-incident approach to Gospel reliability is wrong. Dead wrong. Philosophically wrong. Epistemologically wrong. Historically wrong. When one has evidence for the historical nature and intention of a Gospel overall (as we do have for John), then the specific incidents in it do not need to be individually defended, starting each time from a position of agnosticism, on a case-by-case basis.

This leaves us with the position that the "I am" statements, and the statement, "I and the Father are one" in John's Gospel are no less prima facie historical than anything else in the Gospels. There is no need for us to be defensive about them or to mount some kind of special, separate argument for their historicity. We need to get over the idea that they start at a special disadvantage and therefore require special help, any more than do, say, the Beatitudes or any of Jesus' sayings recorded in the Synoptic Gospels.

Naturally, hyper-skeptics will question all of it. But here I am addressing the more common view among "non-minimalist" and even (as we have seen) some evangelical scholars--namely, that the Synoptic Gospels are more historical than John, and in particular that Jesus' sayings reported in the Synoptic Gospels are prima facie much more historical than the (relatively) explicit claims to deity found in John.

The Messianic secret argument has been regarded as a pillar supporting that bias for a long time. It's time to recognize that the pillar cannot bear the weight.

More on ur-source theories vs. undesigned coincidences

 

More on ur-source theories vs. undesigned coincidences

(Originally published at What's Wrong With the World. Link to original post at 'permalink' below.)

Several years ago, after receiving a question by e-mail, I wrote this post about attempted "ur-source" hypotheses as an alternative explanation of undesigned coincidences. If you're interested in this question, I strongly urge you to read that post (if you haven't already). This post is meant to be a supplement to it, not a replacement.

In the last few days I've been writing quite a bit more about this type of objection to undesigned coincidences because I received some questions about it again. I wrote up so much material in response that I've decided to post some of it here for others who might find it useful.

As used in this post, an "ur-source hypothesis" intended to explain away an undesigned coincidence would go something like this: The accounts we have in our actual Gospels are separated pieces of what was a larger, earlier, oral tradition. They fit together in an explanatory way because the earlier "tradition story" fit together in a plausible way, though it may or may not have been true. It could be seen to be probably true only by some other argument--for example, because it was in existence early. Of course, we do not have this earlier oral tradition and are only conjecturing about its content and appearance. Then (goes the theory), our gospel authors chose to report different parts of that earlier oral ur-source, which produced the appearance of a coincidence between the gospel accounts that we have.

I urge you (again) to read the earlier post, which makes several very important points in response to this. These include, for example, the implausibility of a copier's leaving something highly surprising and inexplicable unexplained by copying only a fragment of an earlier tradition. Also included in the earlier post is the fact that any critic like Bart Ehrman who implies that the unique material in the Gospel of John was invented much later than the other Gospels cannot consistently, simultaneously, hold that the unique Johannine material existed in a stable oral tradition, combined with material now found in Mark and the other synoptic Gospels, before the Synoptic Gospels themselves were even published.

I am not going to deal in this post with a different version of an "earlier source" hypothesis according to which only a portion of what we now find as a UC was already "known to the community" and a later fictionalizer simply added fictional aspects to the story that fit in with other facts already present "in the tradition." That type of theory is already extensively dealt with in Hidden in Plain View itself, since in the book I assume for the sake of the argument that Mark was available to Matthew and Luke, Matthew was also available to Luke, and all three of the Synoptics were available to John. I then discuss, repeatedly, the implausibility of a later fictionalizer's subtly connecting his fictions with material already available in the earlier written Gospels. The very same considerations I give there apply to already available oral versions of the stories.

Concerning "ur-source" hypotheses according to which both sides of a UC were present in some oral ur-source and just got separated in the Gospels we have, I have decided from my more recent correspondence that it is very important to emphasize this: The mere fact that many scholars think that there were some kind of earlier oral traditions in existence prior to the writing of the Gospels does not mean that such earlier "oral traditions" took a form that would make an ur-source hypothesis a good alternative to an undesigned coincidence between the accounts we have. Some kind of earlier oral traditions could mean many different things. Such a phrase, for example, could merely mean that the eyewitnesses themselves talked about their experiences. That is not the same thing as a compendium including both/all parts of an undesigned coincidence. Even if some witness's version of his story were repeated by others fairly faithfully and (say) Luke got hold of it at a couple of removes and put it into his Gospel, it would still be just one side of the story and hence could easily participate in a UC with something told in John. It wouldn't in that case be an "ur-source" from which Luke broke off a piece.

An idea that is popular (partly popularized by Richard Bauckham) is that there were stable, oft-told story versions of the stories in the Gospels (particularly the Synoptic Gospels) and that these were presided over by "tradents" (e.g., the apostles) to make sure that their retelling did not stray from the truth of what actually happened.

Bauckham is using such a theory as an alternative to the much more liberal ideas of form criticism, of which he is an opponent. The more liberal alternative is that the retellings of the stories varied without control and that what has made it into our Gospels is something many times removed from what actually happened and greatly morphed. In other words, Bauckham is arguing against the "telephone game" idea such as one hears from Bart Ehrman.

But it's important to remember that, if a Gospel author either was an eyewitness himself or talked to eyewitnesses, he would not need to rely on such formal, oft-told versions of a story. Bauckham expressly denies Matthean authorship, so he apparently considers the "traditional story" theory to be particularly relevant both to Matthew and to Luke. He thinks that Mark shows strongly the witness perspective of Peter and that John (though not John the son of Zebedee) was a disciple of Jesus and an eyewitness of many things, so the "tradent-certified story version" theory seems most relevant, in Bauckham's view, to Luke and Matthew. If Matthew was an eyewitness (as I believe he was and as patristic evidence supports), the theory becomes even less relevant.

Even for Luke, it's important to remember several things: An oft-told, preserved story version could have been much like the one-sided story we have in our Gospels, not at all like a larger ur-source. (This is similar to what I said above about what could have been the case even if Luke got his version of a story at a couple of removes.) And if the author was able to talk to a witness himself, such a formal version, told by a non-eyewitness, is an unnecessary theory. Since we know that Luke probably did have such opportunities, although it is not impossible that he got some stories at multiple removes, we should not assume that his Gospel is heavily dependent upon formal earlier "oral traditions" as opposed to informal interviews. And we certainly have no reason whatsoever to think that Luke's Gospel is heavily dependent upon formal oral traditions that looked very unlike what he records, off of which he has broken bits and pieces.

The fact that a theory of tradent-certified oral traditions is an improvement over an ever-morphing telephone-game tradition, finding its way ultimately into our Gospels, does not mean that we should settle on the idea that our Gospels were constructed out of such oral traditions as opposed to being known in more natural ways.

Of course, the theory that the Gospels were written by witnesses or in direct consultation with eyewitnesses is "on the table" only because we know on independent grounds that this is historically quite possible. If we knew independently that they were written several hundred years later, they would have to be based upon some kind of earlier, preserved materials, whether oral or written, though that wouldn't (even so) mean that these earlier materials took the form of umbrella sources containing all the material, subsequently dispersed into multiple documents. (Even in the case of Old Testament stories in Kings and Chronicles, where the books themselves may have been compiled long after the fact, we rightly do not assume that what lies behind somewhat different versions of a story in Kings and Chronicles was some ur-source that somehow combined both.)

Any hypothesis that a Gospel was constructed out of much earlier oral traditions is even more implausible, if possible, for the Gospel of John, where the plethora of unique material (which has so often been used to argue against the Gospel's historicity) is actually evidence that the Gospel was written by a witness who wished to supplement what was already known. At least, that is the case once we see John's unique material confirmed over and over again, as it is by undesigned coincidences and external confirmations.

It is possible that the idea that the Gospels (including John) were constructed out of earlier oral traditions is thought to be independently supported because of some term usages by New Testament scholars. "Moderate" NT scholars have a "complimentary" way of using a phrase like "based on earlier tradition" that absolutely must not be allowed to confuse us. When, for example, such a scholar comes upon a case where he believes that a pericope satisfies one or more of the famous "criteria of authenticity," he may magnanimously confer upon that pericope the accolade of "based on earlier tradition." This does not mean that there is some evidence there in the contents that the story was based on earlier tradition as opposed to being based more directly or more informally on reality. It does not mean that the pericope shows that it was based on oral tradition rather than being written directly by an eyewitness (the author of the gospel) or rather than being based on an interview with an eyewitness. On the contrary. The evidence of historicity is ipso facto evidence that supports more simple and direct connections with reality, at least in cases where this is otherwise possible, as it is for the Gospels. It is simply that the scholar does not want to say that. He prefers, thinking of himself as being somehow "cautious" and "careful," to speak of being "based on tradition." The alternative he has in mind, the more "liberal" alternative he is rejecting, is that the pericope was mostly made up out of whole cloth. That is why the phrase "based on earlier tradition" is considered a compliment. But let us not become confused into thinking that this means that there is independent evidence that strongly supports a vast network of earlier, formal, oral tradition, recited regularly by non-eyewitnesses, predating that particular Gospel, out of which the Gospel was constructed.

D.A. Carson explicitly notes that C.H. Dodd uses a phrase like "based on tradition" in a sense indistinguishable from "historical." (Carson, “Historical Tradition in the Fourth Gospel: After Dodd, What?", p. 106) In other words, Dodd uses this phrase as a compliment to a passage in the Gospel of John, to single that passage out as something that he thinks may actually be historical. This doesn't mean that Dodd has objective evidence for an oral tradition predating John as opposed to John's having witnessed the event or having spoken to an eyewitness. Far from it. It's just that he prefers "based on tradition" to "based on reality."

It may be some improvement over, "The Johannine community made up this incident" to say, "This incident is based on earlier tradition." But when the "tradition" hypothesis begins to be set up as a competitor to "based on reality," we must speak up and point out that such a competitor has never been established at all. It would be ironic indeed if evidence supporting historicity (e.g., criteriological evidence that leads a scholar to say that a story in some Gospel is "based on earlier tradition") were ultimately taken to undermine other evidence for historicity (such as undesigned coincidences) because the bias of scholars makes it appear that "based on earlier tradition" is the most that we can ever say.

One almost wonders if scholars have the faulty idea that postulating some source or tradition rather than reality is always "simpler" than postulating reality. No doubt such a confusion could arise from the mere pressure of scholarly trends. Saying that John or Matthew "knew what happened" is taken to sound naive and incautious. So saying instead that they appear to be "based on earlier tradition" is a use of scholar-ese that signals that you are not one of those hasty fundamentalists and are taking the more "careful" and hence (allegedly) the more justified position. But this is not actually true. As I pointed out in the earlier post, never talking about reality but always about traditions is a history-dissolver. It means we literally never get around to talking about reality! It is also a violation of simplicity to hypothesize an extra layer of "tradition" in between what we actually have and the events as they occurred when this is unnecessary, when the author could have known of the events in some more direct way. After all, reality is out there. So the intervening "tradition" is just an extra entity. And it becomes all the more complex as one has to attribute to the "tradition" a set of highly specific characteristics in order to use it as a replacement for reality in our model.

But someone might ask, "Is there not evidence in Paul's epistles of the existence of earlier oral traditions?" Yes, there is some, but by no means in a sense that would support an "ur-source" hypothesis for undesigned coincidences. The existence of something like the "creed" in I Cor. 15 indicates only (at most) that early believers were catechized using traditional formulas. It does not mean that any of the Gospels themselves were composed by putting together formal, oral traditions as opposed to being based upon reality more directly. (It's worth noting here that no such "creed" is incorporated into the text of any of the Gospels.)

At this point, readers may be wondering about the two-source hypothesis and Markan priority. But the two-source hypothesis concerning the synoptic gospels does not at all mean that the synoptic Gospels, nor even Matthew and Luke, were based upon a large network of pre-Gospel oral traditions. Mark itself is neither a hypothetical entity nor an oral entity. It is a document that we possess and can evaluate on its own merits. If Matthew and Luke are based on it in part literarily, it does not follow that Matthew and Luke are, for their other information, based upon formal "oral traditions."

In any event, Matthew may have been an eyewitness himself. Luke had opportunity to interview eyewitnesses. And, as I point out repeatedly in Hidden in Plain View, the evidence of undesigned coincidences cuts across the "synoptic problem" and the two-source hypothesis, because Matthew and Luke show evidence of independent access to the truth at multiple points, even in some places where their narratives bear similarity to that of Mark. There is no good reason to infer that, since Luke and Matthew may have been partly based literarily on Mark, they are otherwise composed by putting together formal oral traditions as opposed to witness testimony--their own or that of others. And it would be even more implausible to think that they were composed by putting together mere fragments of such oral traditions.

When I went back to Hidden in Plain View recently, I was especially struck by how many of the undesigned coincidences discussed in it bring together information from more than one incident--more than one "pericope," as they are called. For example, the UC concerning Jesus' trial and the claim that he threatened to destroy the Temple brings together that trial scene and a completely different context--his words in John when he cleanses the Temple in John 2: "Destroy this Temple, and in three days I will raise it up." The explanation of John the Baptist's words, "I saw and bare record that this was the Son of God" in John 1:32-34 brings together that scene, in which John the Baptist is later talking about the baptism of Jesus, and the actual story of Jesus' baptism as told in the Synoptic Gospels. The UC concerning Peter's boast that he will never deny Jesus and Jesus' later words to him, "Do you love me more than these?" in John 21 also brings together different scenes and incidents. And there are many more.

I had brought this point up briefly in the earlier post, but I hadn't realized just how many of the UCs have this feature. It comes up again and again. This is especially relevant for any attempted ur-source hypothesis concerning "oral traditions," because any common "oral tradition story" idea will concern specific stories as told in standardized form. Thus a parable might (allegedly) have circulated in such a "tradent-cerified" form, or the story of a healing, and so forth. Hence, the idea of such earlier oral stories does nothing to explain away the occurrence of UCs that cut across two or more pericopes in the Gospels. There is no reason to think that a "tradition story" of Jesus' words as told in John when he cleansed the Temple (if there even was such a thing, which there may well not have been) would dovetail with the "tradition story" of the accusation against him at his Sanhedrin trial unless both were true. In other words, in that case the same UC argument that applies to the Gospel accounts would apply to separate "tradition stories." If a "tradition story" of a single pericope is a conjectural entity (as it is), a single "tradition story" that just happened to contain two completely different pericopes concerning different parts of Jesus' life is truly wildly conjectural and is not even what is usually meant by the concept of an "oral tradition."

This is not to say that an "ur-source" theory works at all well even for a single incident, such as the feeding of the five thousand. For all the reasons given here and in the earlier post, a conjecture of a composite "tradition story" of the feeding containing all the information needed for the UCs surrounding that incident, which later fragmented into the Gospels we currently have, is highly implausible and unjustified. But the "ur-source" hypothesis is, if possible, epistemically even worse if one were to try to apply it to UCs that cut across multiple incidents.

One more topic has occurred to me in this most recent exchange on ur-sources, which I didn't discuss in the earlier post: Apparent discrepancies.

Take, for the sake of concreteness, the feeding of the five thousand. I can think immediately of two apparent discrepancies concerning the feeding which have puzzled scholars for a long time: 1)The apparent difficulty concerning "pros Bethsaidan" in Mark and the statement in Luke that the feeding took place near Bethsaida. I discuss that here. 2) The apparent discrepancy between Mark 6:45 and John 6:15-16 concerning whether the disciples went away by boat before or after Jesus went up into the mountain by himself. Nor are these the only apparent discrepancies in the feeding of the five thousand.

If there is one thing that apparent discrepancies are good for, it is opposing various causal dependence theories. And an ur-source theory is a causal dependence theory. (This is an area of my professional specialty in probability theory.)

If there were ever (implausibly enough) some compendium version of the feeding of the five thousand story that contained all of the details now found dispersed in various gospels, or all of the details used in a given undesigned coincidence, we would expect that compendium version to be at least coherent in the sense of resolving such apparent discrepancies. Jesus would either appear to dismiss the crowd and go up into the mountain before the disciples leave in their boat or after, not both. Such a version of the story (being just a single version) would be expected to be somewhat clearer about what direction they rowed after leaving the place of the feeding so as not to appear (even prima facie) to contradict the statement that the event occurred near Bethsaida. A well-honed official story version has the opportunity to smooth out these rough edges or to avoid producing them in the first place. Indeed, part of the job of creating one version of a story that will be told over and over again would presumably be making choices about which direction to go if one's underlying evidence had some apparent discrepancies in it already.

But separate witness testimonies, as cold-case detective J. Warner Wallace has repeatedly pointed out, often contain small apparent discrepancies concerning ancillary parts of the story. Hence, the apparent discrepancies between the feeding accounts are yet another characteristic that makes them look like independent witness testimonies in the form that we now have them, not like broken-off parts of a pre-existing ur-narrative from which they were copied.

It cannot be stressed too strongly: The fact that NT scholars have an unfortunate tendency to construct sources or traditions at the drop of a hat and to endow them with all sorts of specific characteristics on the basis of no independent evidence does not mean that doing so is reasonable or constitutes an epistemically problematic challenge to UCs. Undesigned coincidences tend to support a simpler model, and if that simpler model is regarded as "radical" when compared with the more convoluted approach that one might expect "critical scholarship" to take, we need to let the data speak for themselves. Hobbling the conclusions that can be drawn from UCs by pointing out that a scholar or a skeptic could make up a hypothetical "ur-source tradition" and gerrymander it so that it included everything found in the Gospels' separate stories is not a good scholarly practice.

Nor does such a practice deal with the inconvenient fact that, when all is said and done, the Tradition mountain in the middle has, now that the Gospels exist, magically turned back (in the accounts we have) into varied accounts with the properties that we find normal witness testimony to have--puzzling incompleteness, casualness, inclusion of vivid and unnecessary details, fitting-together with other partial accounts, and occasional apparent discrepancies. That is quite a coincidence if these are merely broken-off fragments of some ur-tradition rather than being independent testimony to reality.

As I said in the earlier post, contemporary NT scholars appear to be largely unaware of or uninterested in undesigned coincidences, though one does see occasional positive references to them (whether by that name or not) in the works of more conservative scholars. Both Leon Morris and Craig Blomberg discuss them in the context of supporting the historicity of John's Gospel.

The fact that there is no contemporary, back-and-forth literature to speak of on undesigned coincidences means that the NT scholarly guild has not yet taken much of a whack at explaining them away. This is just as well from my perspective. I tend to think it would be a weariness of the mind and flesh to have to read the convoluted theories that critical scholars, motivated to discredit UCs as independent evidence for the Gospels' historicity, might try to come up with. But so far, we must conjecture about what they "would say."

Since ad hocness, construction of phantom sources on a case-by-case basis, and rampant violation of simplicity are pretty common faults of the discipline, it is possible that some sort of ur-source hypotheses will end up being the favored "go-to" if and when more "mainstream" critical scholars start trying to dismiss undesigned coincidences. The fact that the question comes up from time to time among my correspondents may indicate that the wind will blow in that direction. That will be particularly interesting to see insofar as it involves the Gospel of John: Will we then see a scholar who has talked expansively of the inventive proclivities of the late-1st-century "Johannine community" suddenly start solemnly telling us that John's story of Jesus' trial before Pilate was part of a larger, oral ur-source that existed before Luke and that John's version of the feeding of the five thousand is a broken-off piece of a larger, oral ur-source that was standardized in the Christian community prior to Mark? I suppose anything is possible, and NT critics are, in practice, great believers in the maxim that consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds. I would like to think that, if that happens, there will be plenty of others besides me around to point out, once again, that the Emperor is unclad. If needed, these posts should enable us to make that point in some detail.