[This is an
ongoing project that is analyzing N.T. Wright’s 5 volume series, Christian Origins
and the Question of God. This series is widely read and bridges the gap between
the academic and devotional world. It is therefore worthy to be carefully
analyzed so that all readers can understand his key points while at the same
time gaining a critical eye to some of his rather bold claims. This series of
posts are concerning volume 2 – Jesus and
the Victory of God.]
This chapter of N.T. Wright’s analysis of the historical
Jesus is especially important because in it he clarifies his methodology – what
he calls his ‘paradigm’ - from
which he builds his argument in the following book. His methodology of the
“double similarity” attempts to honor the standard of the criterion of
“dissimilarity” while also honoring the work of the early church. This
particular methodology is important to analyze precisely because it is so
common among protestant readers of the Bible today. It has its merits, but also
reveals his largest presuppositions.
First, Wright proposes a maximalist goal in understanding
the historical Jesus. He feels that Jesus should be studied like any historical
figure. Given this, he feels one should seek to identify all aspects of the
figure insofar as they can be known:
The historical study of an
individual such as Jesus, no different in principle from the history study of
other individuals, consists of the assembly and interpretation of evidence
which contributes as fully as possible to the understanding of the person at
all these levels – worldview, mindset, basic beliefs, aims, consequent beliefs,
and intentions.[1]
Wright correctly frames the study of the historical Jesus.
One should consider the evidence available to judge it to build as much as
possible of the individual. Here, he has set the bar very high in order to
maximally identify Jesus and why he matters. The problem is precisely what
evidence is actually there. Scholars have long held to interpreting the
Christian texts with the “criterion of dissimilarity.” While Wright values
this, he feels what is needed is to add to it a criterion of “double
similarity.”
The standard work on the historical Jesus puts an emphasis
on the “criterion of dissimilarity.” This is the idea that if the gospels
present Jesus doing something that is counter to the aims of the gospel, it is
relatively historically firm. The idea behind this is that a writer does not
tend to invent stories that are opposed to one’s point. Much more likely, the
story is included simply because it is a matter of historical fact and cannot
be changed. For example, Jesus being baptized by John the Baptizer fits this
criterion. John was baptizing people for repentance and remission of sin. If
Jesus was not sinful, then it doesn’t make much sense for him to be baptized.
What is more, the one being baptized is usually presented as the disciple and
the one baptizing the master. It would not make logical sense that Jesus would
be the disciple of anyone. For these reasons, it would be amazingly unlikely
for the gospel writers to invent this story. Instead, it is far more likely
that Mark, Luke, and Matthew include the story simply because it happened.
While Wright values the criterion of dissimilarity, he feels
it is too restrictive. It surely should be possible that Jesus could have done
some things that would fit within the intents of the author’s of the gospels.
However, this is hard to verify historically because one does not know if it
really happened or if the gospel has invented the story. Wright proposes a
solution to this tension – the “double similarity”:
It is thus decisively similar to both the Jewish context and
the early Christian world, and at the same time importantly dissimilar – in just that sense which we
saw highlighted in some recent Third Quest work. It is vital to recognize this
double movement. Without it, one is in the difficult position of working simply
from later and Christianized texts, or form complex reconstructions of Judaism.
Along with the much-discussed ‘criterion of dissimilarity’ must go a criterion
of double similarity: when something can be seen to be credible (though perhaps
deeply subversive) within first-century Judaism, and credible as the implied starting-point (though not the exact
replica) of something in later Christianity, there is a strong possibility of
our being in touch with the genuine history of Jesus.[2]
Wright argues that one should see in the dissimilarity, a
kind of similarity – something that fits within the Judaic worldview. Something
can be wildly subversive, but it still needs to be explained in the worldview
of the first century. In that sense it can still be seen as “similar.” For
instance, that at least some Jews were expecting a Messiah is clear. That the
messiah would be one who was going to be executed as a criminal rather than
reestablish Israel would have been subversive. It can be explained through the Jewish worldview and is in some sense
“similar,” but at the same time would be rather “dissimilar” from the expected
tradition in that it was turning the framework on its head.
This alone, however, is not sufficient – nearly all of the
New Testament could be read as challenging expected norms. What Wright presents
is that the “double similarity” needs to be there that these very events should
also explain the later Christian
development from them. Therefore, Wright is arguing that such unexpected events
should be the very events that should logically proceed to what the evidence
shows in the Christian texts. Consider Wright’s position about the Jewish
exile. He argues that Jesus saw himself as conclusion of the return of Israel
form exile:
Like a great pincer movement,
therefore, we can work inwards towards Jesus, from the Jewish context of his
own work and from the Christian theology of the early church. Israel has been waiting for redemption,
for the return from exile. The early Christians are behaving as though it has
already happened, and are justifying this by telling stories about Jesus
himself.[3]
Given this, now
is the time for all Israel to embrace all people and as such is now inclusive
of people who could not have been included previously. It therefore is not what
people were expecting the end of the exile to be (dissimilar), but can be
explained in larger Jewish theology (similar). Further, it is the theology that
is expressed in the later Christian gospels – notably Luke and Matthew.
Wright’s innovation is that the theological aims of the
later documents should be honored as holding the logical development of the
theological aims of Jesus to create
historical veracity. Few scholars would suggest that it is impossible that
Jesus could have had the same theology as that of the gospels. The question is
only if we could historically verify it the
way we would verify any figure in history – never minding the devotional
benefits/challenges either way. Wright’s argument is that we can value these theologies for the
purposes of historical veracity.
Wright is aware of the shocking statement he makes and knows
he has to defend it. He argues that through a process of peasant orality, there
is good reason to validate what was later recorded. He suggests that in the
Galilee, there was a system of orality that was informal, but controlled:
[Peasant society] is the world of informal but controlled oral tradition...They
are informal in that they have no set teacher and students. Anyone can join in
– provided they have been part of the community for long enough to qualify.
They are controlled in that the whole community knows the traditions well
enough to check whether serious innovation is being smuggled in, and to object
if it is.[4]
Wright is certainly correct at least at a basic level that
the primary method of preservation of material in the ancient world was via
orality rather than textuality. There certainly were written texts, but they
were of far less significance than the oral tradition. The question is
therefore not whether these communities were informally oral – they certainly
were. The question lies in the latter half – whether they were controlled.
Wright argues that the communities had real ties to Jesus
and his life. Therefore, if someone presented something that was too outlandish
about Jesus, then the community would not accept it because they would
essentially know whether that particular thing was accurate or not. This
provides him a way of saying that the scriptures which were written down, did
have a historiographic measure against them when they were being composed, and
as such, ought to be trusted for historical veracity.
Here, Wright’s argument is relatively common – albeit better
expressed than most who make it. Some of Christian apologetics depend upon this
very argument. In some sense, Wright should be commended for finding a new way
to try an maximalize his sources. One of the values of his method is that works
in the context of the actual gospels we have and therefore increases the
evidence rather than decreasing it. The challenge is simply whether we can truly
trust the gospels for the reasons he supposes.
He argues that the communities themselves who used these documents would have recognized histioriographic problems within them. While this would certainly be true for some communities, would it be true for all of them? Paul’s letters show that there were Jesus movement communities founded by, and peopled by followers who never spent any time with Jesus. Further, Paul’s letters do not give us assurances that these communities were able to ferret out the “accurate” versus “inaccurate” theologies by nature of their oral culture. Further, it seems that they were told things about Jesus from some of his followers (particularly as seen in Galatians and 2 Corinthians 10-13). There seem to have been traveling missionaries who told some sort of story about Jesus, and the Galatians/Corinthians seem to have not known any better than to accept these stories or not. This challenges this assertion that all Jesus movement communities would by definition be able to discriminate that which is historically accurate versus that which was not.
Wright then is faced with a challenge – were the gospels themselves
produced in communities that did know
the materials well (as the Jerusalem church most likely would have), or were
they in communities where they did not (as Galatians most likely exemplifies)?
If the documents were produced in a community with real ties to Jesus while he
was alive, then Wright’s argument seems to be warranted. If, however, it was in
a community without this merit, then there is real reason to question whether
this methodology is sound.
The problem lies in the fact that we know for certain where none of the gospels were produced or by
whom. Some value the traditional authors – but even this would call some of
them into question (Mark and Luke). What is more, whether one accepts these
traditional authors is dependent upon a theory of tradition. While these
authors might be accurate, there is no way of knowing for sure. Therefore, we
are stuck analyzing the origin of the documents from the documents themselves.
In that case, we are therefore considering them and having to ask if this one
developed in a community that knew well enough so that Wright’s historical argument
would work or not. The only way of measuring that is from the gospel itself and
we are going to be left with a preconceived notion of the gospel that will
govern the data.
Wright’s theory, then, is only as strong as his hypothesis
and assumption about the particular gospels themselves. He has found a way to
maximalize the data, but in so doing he has caused a completely different
question to arise about the veracity of the hypothetical community of each of
the gospels. This is not to say that Wright’s argument is bad, but it surely
does need to be taken with a serious grain of salt.
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