Showing posts with label evidence. Show all posts
Showing posts with label evidence. Show all posts

Wednesday, July 15, 2020

(Guest Post) On the authorship of the fourth Gospel: A letter to a young enquirer

(Guest Post) On the authorship of the fourth Gospel: A letter to a young enquirer


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

A guest post by Timothy McGrew

R-----,

Great question! I’m a little curious as to how it arose—did your friends raise it? your pastor? someone else?

I am persuaded that the fourth Gospel was written by John, the brother of James and son of Zebedee. There are quite a number of reasons for thinking this, and that means that this is going to be a rather long note.

So here’s the short answer:

1. Every scrap of evidence we have from the writings of the early church indicates that the fourth Gospel had always been known to be written by John. And we have lots.

2. A careful examination of the Gospel itself shows that it must have been written by a Jew who was a native of Palestine and an eyewitness of numerous events, including many where only Jesus and the disciples were present. From internal clues, we can pretty safely narrow it down to John.

Now for the long answer.

First, let’s look at the

External Evidence

The first question we should ask when we are investigating the authorship of any ancient book is what people near to the time said about its authorship. Here, starting about 230 years after it was written and then moving backwards, is a list of some of the evidence:

1. Eusebius (~AD 325) classifies it as a book about which there had never been any doubt. He doesn’t do this for all of the books of the New Testament, so that fact is pretty significant. (Eusebius, Ecclesiastical History 3.24.17)

2. Origen (~AD 220) testifies that he had learned by tradition that it was the work of “him who reclined upon the breast of Jesus, John who has left behind a single Gospel, though he confesses that he could make so many as not even the world could contain” (quoted in Eusebius, Ecclesiastical History 6.25)—indisputable evidence that he thought it was the work of the son of Zebedee.

3. Tertullian (~AD 200) expressly states that the four Gospels were acknowledged to be the work of Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John ever since the apostolic period (Against Marcion 4.5).

4. The Muratorian fragment (~AD 180) affirms that “the author of the fourth Gospel is John, one of the disciples.”

5. At about the same time, it is named as John’s work by Irenaeus (~AD 180). Irenaeus was a disciple of Polycarp (see his Letter to Florinus, quoted in Eusebius, Ecclesiastical History 5.20), who had in turn heard John himself when he was a young man and John was very old. That’s a pretty short chain of testimony; just one link between Irenaeus and the Apostle John. Irenaeus even remarks (Against Heresies 3.11, 12) that the Gnostic followers of Valentinus made use of the Gospel of John and could be refuted directly from it.

6. A generation earlier (~AD 160), Tatian composed a harmony of the Gospels called the Diatessaron. It begins, “In the beginning was the Word ...”

7. Tatian was a pupil of Justin Martyr, who wrote (~AD 145) that “the memoirs of the apostles, which are also called Gospels,” were read every Sunday in all of the churches. In another place, Justin is a little more precise, calling the Gospels the work of “the apostles and the companions of the apostles,” a description that corresponds precisely to our four Gospels. Justin also quotes from John 3:4-5, a passage not found in any of the other Gospels (First Apology 61), which proves his familiarity with our Gospel of John. (I have about half a dozen pieces of evidence like this for Justin’s use of John, if you’re interested.)

8. An ancient preface to the Gospel of John (the Anti-Marcionite Prologue) refers to a work of Papias (~AD 125), now lost, saying: “The Gospel of John was published and given to the churches by John, while he was still in the body, as one named Papias, of Hierapolis, a dear disciple of John, has related in his Exoterica, i.e. at the conclusion of his five books.” Many scholars agree that a comment that Irenaeus attributes to “certain presbyters” is from Papias—it is a comment on John 14:2 (“In my father’s house there are many mansions”).

9. The Apology of Aristides, discovered in 1889, was addressed to the Emperor Hadrian, who became emperor in 117 and died in 138. Aristides writes: “It is acknowledged that Jesus is the Son of the Most High God, and that by the Holy Ghost He came down from heaven for the salvation of men. And that having been conceived of a holy virgin without seed and incorruptibly, He took upon Him flesh, and was manifested to men.” Only John, of the four Gospel writers, uses the expression “... came down from heaven ...” in connection with the incarnation (John 3:13, 6:33, etc.); and only John speaks of Jesus’ human nature as “flesh,” a distinctive term in Greek.

10. The early second century heretic Basilides quotes from John 1:9 and John 2:4. (See the discussion and quotations in Hippolytus, Refutation of All Heresies, book 7.) If the Gospel were not known to be the work of the Apostle John, its early use by heretics would certainly have raised suspicions about it. But every record we have indicates that it was so widely known as to be beyond all doubt.

11. Ignatius (~AD 107), in letters written to the churchs at Philadelphia in Asia Minor (modern day Alaşehir in Turkey) and at Magnesia (modern day Manisia, also in Turkey) gives clear indications of his knowledge of the Gospel of John. (Details available on request.) This is very significant, because this was probably only a decade after the Gospel was written.

These are the primary pieces of early external testimony to the authorship of John, though I could easily double the size of the list by pulling out more obscure quotations from the so-called Second Epistle of Clement, Hermas, Hegisippus, Athenagoras, Polycrates, etc. But they make the point sufficiently clear. There is no other tradition of authorship for the fourth gospel. There is no record of any uncertainty about it at any time; we have one brief mention of some gnostics (not even named) who claimed it was written by Cerinthus, the founder of their heretical sect—but they are mentioned only to be dismissed. It does not appear that any Christian group ever had the slightest doubt about this work.

Next, let’s look briefly at the

Internal Evidence

Here, we can close in on the question with a series of concentric arguments, starting further out (with facts that limit the authorship somewhat, but not too specifically) and then tightening the description until only John is left. This method of solving the problem was made famous by B. F. Westcott, and I will make use both of his outline and of many of his examples as we zero in on John the son of Zebedee.

1. The author was a Jew.

He is intimately familiar with Jewish opinions and customs:

* The unexplained references to “the prophet” (cf. Deuteronomy 18:15) in John 1:21, 6:14 ff, 7:40 ff

* Jesus’ disclosure of himself as the Messiah and the saviour of the world to the Samaritans, who will not confuse this revelation with Jewish national aspirations, in 4:22-25, 42

* The low popular estimate of women in 4:27

* The Judean disparagement of the dispersion in 7:35

* The popular expectation that the Messiah will remain forever in 12:34

The foundation of his religious thought is Judaism, the chosen people to whom the Messiah came (John 1:11; 2:16; 6:45; 10:35; 14:32; 19:27, etc.).

His Greek is full of characteristics of someone whose native language was Aramaic—the limited vocabulary, the simple syntax, the use of conjunctions (for example, his frequent use of καί for adversative as well as coordinative conjunction, just like the Aramaic ו (vav), as in John 1:5, 10; 3:10, 11, 19, 32; 4:20; 5:40; 6:70; 7:4, 19, 26, 30; 8:49, 55, etc.), all point to this conclusion.

Several times, when he quotes the Old Testament, his quotations are closer to the Hebrew text than to the Septuagint, the Greek translation that the Jews often used in Jesus’ day. See, for example, John 12:14, 15 (quoting Zechariah 9:9), 12:40 (quoting Isaiah 6:10), 13:18 (quoting Psalm 41:9), and especially 19:37 (quoting Zechariah 12:10), where John’s rendering does not have a single word in common with the Septuagint.

2. He was a native of Palestine.

He give us an unerring portrait of distinct role that the hierarchical class (the Sadducees, whom he never calls by their name) played in the religious life and legal deliberations of Judaism. He also shows effortless precision in his knowledge of places and topography:

* Cana of Galilee (John 2:1, 11), from which he went down (2:12), literally downhill, to reach Capernaum

* Bethany beyond Jordan (John 1:28), which is distinguished from the better-known Bethany “near Jerusalem” (John 11:18), itself described with precision as “about fifteen furlongs [two miles] from the city”

* Ephraim “near the wilderness” (John 11:54); the dimensions of the Sea of Galilee (John 6:19; contrast Mark 6:47)

* the view from Jacob’s well, which would include Mt. Gerazim (John 4:20) and the fields of corn (John 4:35)

* the location of the Pool of Siloam (John 9:11) and the Pool of Bethesda (John 5:2) in Jerusalem

* the fact that Jesus was walking in the Colonnade of Solomon (10:23) at a time of year when this roofed walkway, protected by a wall, would have afforded protection from the winter winds

By these and numerous other details, the author shows himself to be a native who is writing of places he knows personally.

3. He was an eyewitness of many episodes that he records.

The details about persons (John 6:5, 7 (contrast Matthew 14:14 ff), 12:21; 14:5, 8, 22), numbers (two disciples in 1:35; six waterpots, each holding twenty to thirty gallons in 2:6; forty-six years in 2:20; five husbands in 4:18; thirty-eight years of sickness in 5:5; twenty-five furlongs [or three and a half miles] in 6:19; four soldiers in 19:23; two hundred cubits [or a hundred yards] in 21:8; a hundred fifty three fish in 21:11), and times (Passover in John 2:13, 23; the New Year in 5:1; a second Passover in 6:4; the feast of Tabernacles in 7:2; the Feast of Dedication in 10:22; and beyond these, more specific and detailed marks of date in 1:29, 35, 43, 2:1, 11:1, 12, 13:1, 19:31, 20:1 and time of day in 1:40, 3:2, 4:6, 52, 6:16, 13:30, 18:28, 19:14, 20:19, 21:4) are too numerous and too specific to be the work of someone who is inventing details or passing on oral traditions.

The gospel overflows with details of objects and scenes not found in the other Gospels that are evidently stamped on the memory of the writer. The loaves at the feeding of the five thousand were barley loaves (6:9); when the ointment was poured out for Jesus’ anointing, the house was filled with its fragrance (12:3); the branches strewn at the triumphal entry into Jerusalem were palm branches (12:13); when Judas went out to betray Jesus, it was night (13:30); Jesus’ tunic was without seam, woven from the top throughout (19:23); the head cloth found in the empty tomb was wrapped together in a place by itself (20:7). These are just illustrations; you can find many more instances of the same thing simply by reading the Gospel attentively.

There can be no question of this as a novelistic invention. The modern, historical, realistic novel would not be invented for another sixteen centuries. This superabundance of specific details is utterly unlike the novels of the first and second centuries like Chariton’s Chaeras and Callirhoe or Petronius’s Satyricon. It is clearly the work of an eyewitness.

4. He was one of the “inner circle” among Jesus’ disciples.

Not only is he familiar with scenes where only the disciples are present (their calling in John 1:19 ff; the journey through Samaria in 4:1 ff; the feeding of the five thousand in 6:1ff; the visits to Jerusalem in chapters 7, 9, and 11, etc.), he frequently describes their thoughts, feelings and reactions (2:11, 17, 22; 4:27; 6:19, 60 ff; 12:16; 13:22, 28; 21:12). He knows both what they said to Jesus (4:31; 9:2; 11:8, 12; 16:29) and what they said among themselves (4:33; 16:17; 20:25; 21:3, 5). He knows the places where they would go as a group without the company of strangers (11:54; 18:2; 20:19). He knows the misimpressions they had that were later corrected (2:21 ff; 11:13; 12:16; 13:28; 20:9; 21:4).

And he knows Jesus’ motives and meaning as only one intimately acquainted with him could (2:24 ff; 4:1-3; 5:6; 6:15; 7:1; 16:19).

5. He was John, the son of Zebedee

Throughout the Gospel, we read of one disciple who goes unnamed (e.g. 1:35, 37, 40) but is later described simply as “the beloved disciple.” At the very end (21:24), we are told outright that he was the author. And going back over the places where he is recorded as being present, we find that they are the particular places where the scenes are recorded with particular vividness and detail—the conversation at the last supper, for example, or the scene by the fire at night in the hall at Caiaphas’s house. There is no reason to doubt that this identification of the beloved disciple with the author of the fourth Gospel is correct. But who was the beloved disciple?
From the lists of those present in some of the scenes (1:35 ff; 21:2), including cross references with the Synoptic Gospels, he must have been either Andrew, Peter, James, or John. He cannot be Andrew, since Andrew appears with him in the opening chapter. He cannot be Peter, since he appears with Peter in the closing chapter. James was martyred too early to have written the Gospel (Acts 12:1). By process of elimination, we arrive at the conclusion that he was John.

And once we have come to that conclusion, we can see that there are other indications of it in the text. If it was not John, then why is John—a prominent disciple, according to the synoptics—almost never named in any scene in the fourth Gospel? But if John is the beloved disciple, then this problem does not arise. Again, when he describes John the Baptist in the opening chapter, why does the author say simply “There was a man, sent from God, whose name was John”—not including the descriptive phrase “the baptist” that we find so frequently in the other Gospels, to distinguish him from John the son of Zebedee? Because John the son of Zebedee was the author of the fourth Gospel and, unlike the other evangelists, he had no need to distinguish among various “Johns” in his use of names. When he said “John,” everyone knew who he meant!

I realize that this is a longer note than you were probably looking for. But I hope that you save it and that you will look up some of the passages later and think about them. The evidence, internal and external, is really quite overwhelming. To use a phrase of Paul’s from the book of Acts, “God has not left Himself without witness”—he has provided plenty of evidence!

If you would like to investigate the question in more detail, I recommend the following resources, which you can find free online:

B. F. Westcott, The Gospel According to St. John: The Greek Text with Introduction and Notes, vol. 1 (London: John Murray, 1908), especially pp. xi-lii of the Introduction.

J. B. Lightfoot, Biblical Essays (London: Macmillan and Co., 1904), especially the first three essays.

Monday, July 06, 2020

Timothy McGrew on the Gospels and Acts as History

Timothy McGrew on the Gospels and Acts as History



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

In November, my husband had the great opportunity to give a talk "in" Belfast by Skype on the subject of the Gospels and Acts as history. (The world is getting so complicated that we need a new vocabulary. He was giving a talk in Belfast, but he was really not in Belfast at all. This is starting to sound like magic.) The sponsoring organization was Brian Auten's group, Reasonable Faith Belfast. I've been meaning to get the audio of the talk up here but am just getting to it now.

Here is the Youtube. The Skype talk (followed by interactive Q & A--technology is wonderful) originally did, as I understand it, allow the attendees in Belfast to see Tim talking with a bookshelf behind him, but the Youtube "video" is composed entirely of the Powerpoint slides.



If you want just the audio, it's here.

Happy listening!

Two more interviews on the historicity of Scripture




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

From the last couple of months, here are two more links to interviews with Tim McGrew on evidence for the historicity of Scripture.

This one, from early May, discusses Bart Ehrman a bit, along with a number of other topics listed at the link.

This one is from later in May, and the hosts asked for a variety of information, from incidental confirmations of the historicity of the New Testament to questions about Biblical languages.

I want to emphasize that if you have listened to Tim's other talks and interviews (see info. here, and here), while you will hear some overlapping information, each of the interviews has something in it that is unique, so they're all well worth listening to.

Thursday, July 02, 2020

Mutual support and circularity

Mutual support and circularity




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

In the interview with Luke Muehlhauser, linked below, we got briefly into the subject of mutual support vis a vis the existence of God and miracles like the resurrection. The question, related to a debate my husband and I have had with Alvin Plantinga, arose (though not in so many words): Isn't the existence of God a premise for belief in any miracle, in which case isn't it circular to say that a miracle increases the probability of the existence of God?

I feel that I wasn't as clear as I could have been in responding to this question, so I'd like to say a little more about the issue of mutual support. Here is the technical paper that addresses this subject, but here I want to try to do this non-technically as much as possible.

Most of us are inclined to reason about things in the following way: Use only propositions for which you have lots and lots of support. Base your predictions on what these propositions really lead you to believe, and go from there.

So, for example, a man whose wife always makes him a chocolate cake for his birthday is most concerned with the question of whether, this year, his wife will continue the tradition. He takes his wife's existence for granted, because it's overwhelmingly supported. He also doesn't worry about whether he's hallucinating all his past apparent memories of chocolate cakes over the years. His only concern is whether she will be too busy this year, and he reasons forward, using what is strongly supported already, to make a prediction about this year's birthday. He may, for example, justifiably conclude that he will get a chocolate cake this year.

In this context, it seems sort of pointless and trivial to argue after the fact that the smell of chocolate cake he notices when he comes home on his birthday is evidence for his wife's existence. No one is worrying about that, and so no one thinks twice about the fact that the evidence runs in that direction.

But if you stop to think about it, it's true: The direct sensory evidence of the baking chocolate cake is evidence that Someone exists who made the cake, especially since he has been gone all day and knows he didn't do it.

Is there any circularity going on here? Not at all. He expected the cake, because he had other evidence from the past both of his wife's existence and of her intention to make the cake. He now has even more evidence of interaction with his wife in the form of the smell of the baking cake. We have, of course, reached a point of diminishing returns here, since the probability for his wife's existence was close to 1 already, even before he noticed that Someone had been in the house baking the cake. To make the epistemic force of the sensory evidence of the cake more vivid, we would perhaps have to imagine the poor fellow as suffering from some sort of mental illness that makes him temporarily doubt that he has a wife, in which case the direct sensory evidence of the chocolate cake would take on a lot more practical importance for him than it has in the ordinary situation!

Here's another example: Suppose that I have a long-distance friend named Bill Smith whom I have never met. Bill and I have talked a number of times on the phone, and the last time we spoke, he asked for my e-mail address and said that he would like to send me a paper. A week or so later, up pops an e-mail in my in-box that purports to be from Bill Smith and that has the paper attached.

Once again, we have evidence here going in two directions but no circularity. The evidence of my previous phone conversations gave me some reason to believe that Bill Smith exists already and also to expect the e-mail. The direct evidence--the "after-the-fact" evidence--that I've actually received an e-mail from someone by that name gives me more reason to believe in the existence of Bill Smith.

And note something that is perhaps clearer in this example than in the cake-baking example: Most of us receive e-mails occasionally from people whom we previously had no contact with. (I certainly have.) Once we have the e-mail, even though we did not have a high previous probability for the existence of the writer or reason to predict the arrival of the e-mail, we have reason to believe in his existence. In other words, the e-mail is evidence for the existence of its author independent of the lowness or highness of our prior probability for the existence of the author.

It's certainly true that my previous good evidence for the existence of Bill Smith and our conversation gave me a higher prior probability for the arrival of an e-mail than I would have had otherwise. But that is not a necessary condition for my believing, on the basis of my sensory evidence and knowledge of e-mail, etc., alone, that I have indeed received an e-mail from a person named Bill Smith (who therefore exists).

In the same way, our prior reasons for believing that God exists (or for doubting God's existence) will be quite relevant to the prior probability of any given miracle. Just as I will not expect to receive an e-mail from a person of whom I have never heard, so I will not expect a miracle from a God for whom I believe there to be little or no positive evidence. On the other hand, if I believe there to be some independent evidence for God's existence, this will raise the prior probability of a miracle. And if I believe there to be enormous evidence--for example, if I believe that the arguments of natural theology render the existence of an omnipotent, omniscient, and omnibenevolent eternal God a certainty--this will "help" the prior probability for a miracle a lot, though it will still not make me positively expect most specific miracles.

But direct evidence for a miracle--for example, testimonial evidence in a context that makes it extremely hard to explain as a lie, etc.--is evidence for the existence of God as well, and it is evidence for the existence of God either way--that is, regardless of whether my prior probability for the existence of God was high or low. Just as the evidence of an e-mail purporting to be from Bill Smith is evidence for the existence of Bill Smith even if my prior probability for both his existence and the coming of the e-mail was low, so it is in the case of miracles and the existence of God.

What this means is that we can have evidential "lines" going in more than one direction without any circularity.

We might be inclined to say that

A: Bill Smith exists
is evidence for

B: I receive an e-mail from Bill Smith

and also that B is evidence for A when the e-mail pops up in my inbox. Drat! A circle! But not really: To say that A is a premise for B is a convenient shorthand, but it comes at the cost of some loss of clarity, and in this type of situation it can be positively misleading. The clearer way to think of it is to think of a set of other evidence, such as

A1: I seem to remember a conversation on the phone with Bill Smith on June 1

A2: I seem to remember a conversation on the phone with Bill Smith on August 25
etc.

and

A3: Bill Smith asked for my e-mail address.

A1-A3 provide one set of evidence that Bill Smith exists and that he intends to send me an e-mail, which raises the the probability of B.

On the other hand,

B1: I have received an e-mail which says that it is from someone named Bill Smith
is evidence for A, independent of whether I have A1-A3. Thus, A1-A3 and B1 are all evidence pertinent to B.

And that's all there is to it.

Look, Ma, no circles!

Now, let's see if I've succeeded in expressing this clearly. What think you, readers?

Wednesday, July 01, 2020

The ascension and the "objective vision" theory of the resurrection

The ascension and the "objective vision" theory of the resurrection





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

I am presently working on research for an article on history and theism for a projected Routledge Companion to Theism. A cause of slight psychological strain in doing the research is a ban on content notes--footnotes or endnotes--in the finished product. I'm not as dependent as some scholars on large numbers of content notes, but I usually have a few. (I just wrote to the editor today asking, in so many words, "Is the prohibition on content notes set in stone?" But it's hard to send the image of big, sad, appealing eyes over e-mail, and in any event, scholars are notably unamenable to the pure emotional appeal. So I kept it businesslike.)

One side issue that I would probably discuss briefly in a content note, if content notes were allowed, is the issue of the ascension as it relates to what has come to be known as the objective vision theory of the resurrection of Jesus. I'm a couple of months liturgically early in discussing the ascension, but hopefully my readers won't mind too much.

The objective vision theory, associated with the Jesuit scholar Gerald O'Collins (and I gather held by many others) is the theory that Jesus wasn't literally, physically present with his disciples after his resurrection. Therefore, a camera couldn't have taken a picture of him; he couldn't be seen by normal, physical processes. He couldn't, in fact, be seen by anybody at all without special help from God, which has come to be known as "graced seeing" or "grace-assisted seeing."

O'Collins discusses this idea as if it were simply obvious in his seminal 1967 article "Is the Resurrection an 'Historical' Event?" One thing he keeps saying over and over again in that article is that when Jesus rose from the dead he passed out of the realm of space and time and into the "other" world of God.

What I kept thinking as I read the article was, "Wasn't that the ascension?" After all, passing out of this space-time continuum and into the other world of God sounds an awful lot like what we ordinary folk call "going to heaven." And anybody who has been taught the Christian story knows that Jesus didn't go to heaven immediately when he rose from the dead. He stayed around for forty days showing himself to his disciples by many infallible proofs (says Luke) and then ascended into heaven. The ascension is even, you know, in the Apostles' Creed. It's supposed to be important. But the objective vision theory, based on the premise that Jesus left the space-time continuum at the moment of his resurrection, and even as part of the essence of his resurrection, makes the ascension extremely hard to fit in. The ascension becomes, in fact, an embarrassment, because it duplicates something that supposedly happened at the resurrection.

I vote we keep the resurrection and the ascension both. As did the early Church, of course. But to do that, we're going to have to admit that Jesus walked around on the earth in a visible, tangible, physical body after his resurrection. And a good thing, too.

"A Cumulative Case for the Resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth"--Now available in draft

"A Cumulative Case for the Resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth"--Now available in draft





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

I'm pleased to announce the completion and posting in draft of an article written by Tim McGrew and me that I hope will be of help and interest to a variety of readers. "A Cumulative Case for the Resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth" is available on my web site here. It has been commissioned for the Blackwell Companion to Natural Theology, edited by William Lane Craig and J. P. Moreland. Blackwell has given us permission to post a draft version of our own, with none of their pagination or typesetting, to a personal web site. If you refer others to the on-line version, please make it clear that it is a draft and that the "real" final version will be published on paper with Blackwell.

The main thing missing from this version is the bibliography, which is presently being formated. The article is in MLA style, so if you should want full reference information for a given book, please feel free to e-mail me and ask.

Since the piece is very long, I'm giving here a few highlights and features, with some page numbers in the PDF, in case you want to zero in on particular sections rather than either browsing it or trying to read the whole thing.

Update The bibliography is now available here.

Although to a large extent we set aside the many textual debates, we do discuss some of these on pp. 4-12 and there give the reader an idea of where to go for further reading.

Though I will be talking a lot about confirmation theory in this post, I want to stress that there is plenty of the article that can be read quite easily without knowing such theory--for example, not only the discussion of textual assumptions but the laying out of what we call the salient facts on pp. 15ff and even our rationale on pp. 29ff for giving those facts the weight we do give them. Though it's a professional article, we also try to explain what we are doing with the formalism.

A major feature of the article is its wedding of historical, evidential apologetics with a detailed use of Bayesian confirmation theory. The advantages of such an approach are too numerous to mention. One advantage is that using the odds form of Bayes's Theorem allows us to isolate the impact of the direct evidence for the resurrection and to see that evidence as clearly as possible without being distracted by indirectly relevant issues such as other arguments for or against the existence of God.

This approach also allows us to address a confusion that comes up frequently in the literature as to whether we are obligated to treat the existence of God as a premise for the occurrence of a miracle like the resurrection or whether we may treat the resurrection as evidence for the existence of God. The sections later in the paper on "Worldview Worries" (pp. 47-55) and on Alvin Plantinga's so-called "principle of dwindling probabilities" (pp. 55-60) deal with this issue in some detail.

A Bayesian approach has the nice feature that it allows us to demonstrate the relative weakness of theories that "explain" the evidence but that have a low prior probability even on the assumption that the resurrection did not occur. We use a Bayes factor analysis to describe the relative power of R (the proposition that the resurrection occurred) and ~R (the proposition that it didn't) to explain various bits of evidence. If a sub-hypothesis--say, the theory that the disciples all had hallucinations--has a low prior probability given ~R, it does little to help ~R in what one might call its "Bayes factor competition" with R to explain the evidence in question. (See pp. 27-28 and 46-47.)

The question of independence is of particular interest in arguments about miracles. Much of the force of arguments for a miracle comes from the existence of multiple, independent lines of evidence--for example, multiple, independent witnesses. But it is easy enough to point out that Jesus' disciples knew one another and were interacting with one another during the time when they testified that Jesus was risen. It's not as though they were all locked up in separate rooms and didn't know what each other were saying. Doesn't this make it unreasonable to treat their testimonies on the matter as independent? The surprising answer is that it doesn't. We discuss that issue on pp. 41-47.

One final feature of this paper that I must mention is its references to works of historical apologetics from the 18th and 19th centuries. This aspect of the paper is entirely the work of my co-author; I am fairly ignorant of the history of apologetics, beyond what I have recently learned from him. But it has emerged very strongly in the course of our research for this article that the last several centuries are full of now-unsung heroes of the faith, men who came forward and defended Christianity against the assaults of, e.g., the deists. And, speaking in terms of the actual strength of their case, they won. That men like David Hume should be thought, now, to have put paid to the possibility of defending a religious miracle by testimony is an historical scandal. References to Chalmers, Butler, Paley, and many more are scattered throughout the paper but are probably heaviest in the final section, pp. 60-69, which discusses the second part of Hume's "On Miracles." Hopefully this paper can be in a sense a down payment on what is owed to these men in the way of unearthing them from an undeserved obscurity.