[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 and the one following both are wide ranging
scholarly overviews of what Wright sees as the two sides of historical Jesus
scholarship. He argues that the scholarship on Jesus up to 1996 when the book
was published can be categorized (at least initially) in two groups – that
which develops from William Wrede and that which develops from Albert
Schweitzer. There is some reason to challenge this division, but as far as
divisions are helpful, this is a heuristic category that might be useful as a
way of managing the complexities of the vast material covered under “historical
Jesus studies.” This chapter covers what he considers the legacy of William
Wrede which is often called the “New Quest” of the historical Jesus. Wright
challenges this wing of scholarship and in so doing does not give this wing its
fair due – his criticism of the scholarship colors it as “incorrect” rather
than a true survey which would give the reader context.
First, Wright properly admits that he feels that this wing
of scholarship is more incorrect than its inverse. He hardly completely agrees
with the “Third Quest” (to be discussed in the next chapter), but does agree
with it far more than he agrees with this “New Quest.” Wright explains:
I still believe that the future of
a serious Jesus research lies with what I have called the ‘Third Quest,’ within
a broadly post-Schweitzerian frame of reference, and to this we must presently
turn.[1]
Wright here admits that the “New Quest” is not something he
particularly values – he finds that in the “Third Quest.” While it is no
problem for a scholar to make clear which side he values, his supposed goal in
the chapter is to give readers a sense of scholarship on the subject. Given
that, it would be prudent to attempt to avoid such biases.
Wright’s biases are shown in his justification of discussing
the “New Quest” at all. Instead, he argues that it should be discussed
precisely for its not being followed. He argues that many figures in this “New
Quest” do not actually hold the views of the New Quest and as a result, are of
value:
But these artificial distinctions
do not do justice to the manysidedness of contemporary scholarship. It is
increasingly clear that there are cross-over points between different schools,
and that those who immerse themselves most thoroughly in the material,
especially the historical sources, are mostly likely to move to and fro across
what had seemed a firm Green Line into what some of their colleagues may still
regard as no-go areas.[2]
While Wright is certainly correct that no firm distinctions
ever hold up given scrutiny, what is more concerning is why he inserts this
particular passage. He seems to suggest this, not so that people can understand
the complexity of the issue, but far more because this is where the “New Quest”
can have any value at all. He seems to suggest this in regard to validity
rather than understanding. That alone illustrates the problem.
He therefore argues that the New Quest’s
value can only be understood if the categories fall apart and the failures of
the New Quest is revealed. Wright explains, “If the categories crumble in the
next decade or so, that will be an excellent thing for the discipline…But that
will only happen if the residual weaknesses in the New Quest are seriously
addressed.”[3]
Here Wright argues that the only productive way that the New Quest can be used
is if the “categories crumble.” While I would generally agree that his
categories aren’t that helpful, I am not sure I would agree that the way for
the categories to crumble are necessarily for everyone to agree with Wright. He
seems to feel that the “weaknesses” of the New Quest need to be abandoned which
translate into Wright’s own conclusions.
Wright argues that the first thing
the “New Quest” needs to do is to be card carrying about their premises. He
feels that all work on the historical Jesus is governed by its premises. After
this, these unprovable premises then govern the scarce data that we have:
First, there
is the continued Bultmannian reliance on the sayings of Jesus as the primary
material…This reliance on sayings leads, second, to a spurious idea that
history can be done by assessing these sayings through ‘criteria’ of various
sorts…Both, as we saw, are extremely difficult to assess, despite the confident
feel of Crossan’s inventory, and are open to the charge that they simply
reflect decisions reached on quite other grounds. All the current New Questers
point, despite themselves, to a correct solution: the scholar must work with a
large hypothesis, and must appeal, ultimately, to the large picture of how
everything fits together as justification for smaller-scale decisions.[4]
Here, at least on a logical level,
Wright is certainly accurate. That one’s epistemology (what he is here calling
a “large hypothesis”) governs one’s conclusions is not surprising. It is, after
all, one of the fundamental tenets of philosophy. The problem is that he seems
to suggest that the New Quest movement has not done this. While certain figures
certainly have not, better scholars have. Crossan’s work – however one feels
about it – should not be criticized for its lack of rigor or its clarity of its
epistemology.
The real problem Wright has with
the New Quest is not that the premises aren’t defined. His real problem is that
he doesn’t like their premises. He feels that the presentation does not take
seriously enough Jesus’ Jewish origins and that it creates a Hellenistic figure
in a world where a better explanation would have him in a fully Jewish contour:
The renewed
New Quest works, third, with an overall picture of Christian origins that ought
now to be abandoned. It is the Bultmannian picture, with variations: a
deJudaized Jesus preaching a demythologized, ‘vertical’ eschatology; a
crucifixion with no early theological interpretation; a ‘resurrection’
consisting of the coming to faith, some time later, of a particular group of
Christians; an early sapiential/gnostic group, retelling the master’s aphorisms
but uninterested in his life story; a Paul who invented a Hellenistic
Christ-cult; a synoptic tradition in which rolling aphorisms, as they slowed
down, gathered the moss of narrative structure about themselves, and gradually
congealed into gospels in which the initial force of Jesus’ challenge was muted
or lost altogether within a fictitious pseudo-historical framework.[5]
Here Wright comes clean – his
problem is not really in method, it is in conclusion. He feels that this
picture of Jesus in its epistemological model is flawed. Wright instead feels
that whatever conclusion about Jesus needs to be a Jewish Jesus that works in a
Jewish Christian framework. He explains:
I have already
argued in some detail that when we find solid historical ground under our feet
in the first century of Christianity, we find ourselves still in a very Jewish
world, even if transplanted to Rome, Smyrna, or Thessalonica. There is one true
god who challenges all the other gods, and those who worship this one true god
must offer allegiance to no others.[6]
Wright correctly wants Jesus to
fit a Jewish worldview and that in that Jewish worldview Christians remained –
even to the extent that it included gentiles who were unfamiliar with Jewish
tradition.
Wright’s argument that the premise
should be challenged for its “Jewishness” should be reconsidered. There
certainly is good reason to question how “Hellenistic” Judaism was in Palestine
as the work of Mark Chancey has shown.[7]
However, there is equal reason to challenge how non-Hellenic it was as expressed
by Martin Hengel.[8] There was
far less a “different type” of Judaism in Palestine than in other areas of the
Roman Empire. The old distinction between the Hellenistic diaspora and the
traditional Israel is less sure. There seems to be far more intermingling of
ideas. It was certainly possible that
one could hold Stoic theology while at the same time holding to Jewish
tradition. After all, a good argument can be made that Paul himself had an idea
very much like this as expressed by Stanley Stowers.[9]
All of this does not suggest that
Wright was wrong with his conclusion – I myself would agree more with
Schweitzer than Wrede - but it does show the challenge of being able to create
a reasonable survey without inherently judging it. I am not arguing that Wright
should have created such a unbiased survey – such a thing is difficult if not
impossible – but it then raises the question why he bothered to discuss this at
all. If his goal were simply to dismiss counter-opinions, would it not have
been easier to do this after presenting his clear thesis? In all, more work
could have been done to clarify key questions.
[1] JVG, 78.
[2] Ibid., 78.
[3] Ibid., 79.
[4] Ibid.
[5] Ibid.,
79-80.
[6] Ibid., 71.
[7] Mark Chancey
Greco-Roman Culture and the Galilee of
Jesus (Cambridge: CUP, 2005).
[8] Martin
Hengel Judaism and Hellenism: Studies in
their encounter in Palestine during the early Hellenistic Period 2 vols. (Philadelphia,
Fortress Press, 1974).
[9] Stanley Kent
Stowers Rereading Romans: Justice, Jews,
and Gentiles (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1994).
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