The Jesus Project

I've finally collated all my notes and correspondence from the Jesus Project conference held earlier this month in Amherst, New York. Titled "Sources of the Jesus Tradition: An Inquiry," it's goal was to work out (through discussing problems with the sources) what the exact aims of the Jesus Project should be and whether it's principal objective was viable: determining, with sound objective methods, what facts (if any) can be known about the historical Jesus. I've already outlined the administrative basics in my previous entry. Today I'll talk about the philosophy of the conference. Next week I'll talk about what actually went on there.

You can also read the official CFI Press Release that came out shortly afterward (which was picked up pretty much verbatim by major media, e.g. in The Christian Post, though with some interesting revisions of emphasis well worth comparing against the original). But I can speak as my own witness and participant in everything that went on. Being one of the presenters, I was able to interact with all the scholars who read papers at the event, and with the organizer, R. Joseph Hoffmann (an expert on Marcion and the Pagan Critics).

The Aims of the Project

The aim of the Jesus Project is not to vindicate mythicism (the belief that Jesus didn't exist at all), but to test all theories, including mythicism (of every degree, partial and complete), and arrive at a consensus based on objective methods. Hence it doesn't matter who participates in the Project or what their pet theories are: all are committed to pursuing a consensus of some kind, which they concede might not ultimately vindicate their own pet theories. As Dr. J. Harold Ellens suggested, and everyone I spoke with agreed, instead of starting with total confidence in a theory and interpreting all the evidence in light of that theory, we're going to establish agreement on what the evidence is, and then debate where that evidence leads, developing and relying on methods of answering these questions that we can all agree to. Accordingly, establishing these agreements, on both facts and methods, is now the Project's first goal.

This will be like a fourth "Quest for the Historical Jesus" (or fifth or sixth, depending on how you count), with two major differences that shall define the Project:

1. It will exclude all theological and dogmatic bias--conservative or liberal (none attending were sympathetic to either the Jesus Seminar or conservative apologetics). It will instead attempt to develop objective methods (which won't inherently favor any pet theory) and establish the facts independently of theory before moving forward. All the scholars present agreed every past Quest had (and has) consistently failed to do either.
   
   
2. It won't rule out anything just because someone attending thinks it's fringe. They will hear all the Dohertys, Tabors, Eisenmans, MacDonalds, Q-deniers, the lot. Hoffmann is intent on maintaining a wide and critical diversity of scholars in the Project. As his press release says, "Participants represent a wide variety of perspectives, ranging from Tabor's argument that there is substantial evidence that the tomb of the family of Jesus has been located, to the view that the evidence for the existence of Jesus as an historical figure is not persuasive." What we will require is an objective methodology from anyone who intends to argue anything to the group. It won't be a soapbox society. You will either explain how your conclusions can be proved to everyone's satisfaction, or you'll be shown the door.
   

Though the attendees were somewhat amenable to hearing apologists and conservatives, I got the impression that none thought those guys should be considered serious or credible scholars (with perhaps a few exceptions, and even those they all think are at least partly full of sh*t). In short, there was certainly a universal disdain for any kind of apologetic historicity, and instead a universal respect for developing and following objective methods, and a largely uniform agreement that Jesus is substantially (even if not entirely) a mythical person (disagreements ranged mainly over how the myths about him developed and why, though many disagreements over which things about him are mythical were still evident).

What Will Be My Involvement?

I am not "officially" a member (an invited fellow) of the Jesus Project, but I have had my toes in the water for years now as R. Joseph Hoffmann (shown at right) tried to get the Project going. As soon as I heard about this Project, I expressed my concern to him that they pay attention to methodology and not become a crankhouse for either mythicism or historicity. And he has expressed nothing but agreement with that. And so far it looks good. His tenor throughout the conference was balanced, highly competent, and broadly critical. And he is very receptive to fair-minded criticisms and suggestions for the Project, including issues of managing its public image (which by all accounts he hasn't done too well).

A question that frequently came up during the conference was "What does it matter? Why do we care?" Everyone had (and has) their own reasons, which are valid for each of them, since everyone has their own interests, questions, concerns, and skillsets. But for me the answer is simply this: I want to know what we can claim to know about Jesus and the origins of the Christian movement (or what we can't claim to know, especially if we can't claim to know anything), and even more than that (because it applies to all historical knowledge, and not just this), I want to know how and why we can claim to know it (or how and why we can't). I'm quite annoyed by the lack of progress in this field, in fact not merely the lack, but even the disintegration of progress, as we get more and more versions of the historical Jesus, rather than going the other way around, with options narrowing toward some sign of consensus.

With an objective methodology, when we input the same facts into the same methods, we will get the same results. So we need to pursue agreement on both facts and methods. The first stage is establishing the facts, and this is in the works. But alongside that must also be an effort to develop an agreement on methods, which first requires identifying what methods we are actually using. So one of the persistent questions that I will keep asking the Project is, "Why should we agree with you? Why is your conclusion probable, rather than improbable, or merely possible?" And I will bring to bear my skills and knowledge to evaluate the merits of the answers, as they come.

Even if we only end up with an "agreement to disagree," I won't let that pass unless by this everyone is conceding that the truth cannot be known reliably enough to be sure that either of us is right (and therefore, that we cannot be dogmatic about our conclusions, or against those of our opponents). If we are unwilling to concede that, then we must be able to show how the truth can be known reliably enough to be sure "we" are right and not our critics. I didn't see any resistance to this plan. Despite the diversity of scholars present (every one of whom held views the others vehemently disagreed with), there was a consensus that we need to pursue a consensus, and pursue it through honest scholarship and sound argument, rather than finding a party line and punishing dissenters.

Are We Just a Bunch of Cranks?

Some said they were down on the Project because James Tabor was prominently associated with it (he's supposedly a crank historicist), while others said they were down on the Project because Frank Zindler was invited to give a paper (he's supposedly a crank mythicist). This is all rather ironic, since being down on the Project for being too sympathetic to historicity and mythicism entails a rather obvious contradiction, and belies instead the fact that the Project isn't "too sympathetic" to either. Citing evidence that we're willing to hear out scholars of wildly diverse perspectives only confirms the validity of what we're doing.

In fact, being "down on the Project" because it invites scholars with such diverse opinions is maddeningly stupid. We'll never get anywhere if we refuse to listen to anyone we disagree with. Our only standards should be rigorous standards. As long as Zindler and Tabor and everyone else tows that party line, they'll be welcome. They understand that. And so should anyone else attempting to judge the Project from the outside. As far as work for the Project is concerned, we'll hold them to high standards, and they us.

Indeed, there is some unfounded prejudice here. The paper Zindler read at the conference was predominately right on target and entirely respectable, even when controversial (and most of his remarks weren't). His command of the languages is impressive, and though I completely disagree with his more controversial theories, holding them up to the fire of strong methodological demands can only be a good thing. Likewise for Tabor. He may advocate just as controversial a position in the area of historicity (diametrically opposite Zindler), but he's no crank. He's a very capable scholar, and a fierce critic of excesses on both sides of the debate. Yes, I think Zindler way over-interprets the Gospels and Tabor way over-interprets certain archaeological finds, but neither is a loon.

Someone also remarked to me that Earl Doherty was down on the Jesus Project because of something critical or flippant Hoffmann had said about him. That's also a bad reason to be down on the Project. All the scholars in attendance have 'badnoted' each other. And most completely disagreed with each other. Yet they were all invited and all got along (with the exception of Eisenmann, as I'll comment later, but that was his own fault). As in the published exchange between Morton Smith and G.A. Wells in Jesus in History and Myth (which was quoted during the conference), Smith opened with something like, "We have nothing at all in common except that each of us holds a position the other regards as absurd." And even they got along and had their fair time to speak (and that was twenty years ago).

In fact, several of the scholars in attendance made a particular point of saying they didn't want anyone drummed out because they held views the others regarded as too radical--even as they had biting things to say about each other behind their backs. They nevertheless wanted to hear everyone who could at least be scholarly and cordial. As I'll note later, Eisenmann was much the former but little the latter (producing some of the more entertaining gossip and drama of the weekend). And some were offended by Robert Price's talk (regarding it as too flippant, although I quite enjoyed it), and some thought Paul Kutz should have spoken a great deal less than he did (I have to agree). But overall the weekend was so filled with superb talks on some real cutting edge stuff that I ended up with a far bigger pile of notes (and of questions and ideas) than I expected I would.

But on that, next time...

On Radio This Friday

I'll be on live broadcast radio this Friday evening, discussing the origins of Christmas and the historicity of Jesus. It's the new Lowwdown show on KCAA 1050 AM (an NBC affiliate), which hits some of the Riverside market in Southern California (but you can also listen online from their website), with hosts Robert and Loredana (The Legal Diva). Normally I don't do call-in shows anymore, but since this one's broadcasting to a major market (albeit on a minor station) and is relatively mellow and the hosts are nice, I'll see how it goes. The show airs Fridays from 6-7pm (and they do take calls during the show). I'll be on this Friday (December 19), probably not for the whole thing, but maybe the first half-hour or so (the show actually starts around 6:06pm and will have a bunch of intro from the hosts, though that may come up later, since I'm the critical one, as you know). For those who miss it, it should eventually be archived for streaming or downloading (to run the mp3 for that specific show click here).

Loftus & Paolos

I've been reading various books on the side, in odd places where I can't do anything else (like the eye doctor or local eatery). These are books fans have sent or bought for me, which can take my mind off the endless attention to all things Jesus. I appreciate that. I get to books that way that I'd never likely be able to read otherwise. Today I'm going to review two books together, because they have a similar aim yet entirely different background and approach.

I finally finished reading Why I Became an Atheist: A Former Preacher Rejects Christianity by John Loftus and Irreligion: A Mathematician Explains Why the Arguments for God Just Don't Add Up by John Paulos. Both were released in 2008, although Loftus' book is a substantially revised and altered edition of his 2006 book Why I Rejected Christianity (with new chapters added, some removed, others improved, but some still the same). I read Paolos all through, but I only read select sections of Loftus and skimmed the rest, because Paolos is brief, while Loftus is vast. The one is a renowned mathematician and atheist who finds religious belief simply illogical, and cuts right to the chase, with enjoyable humor and remarkable brevity, in dismissing twelve common arguments for God. The other is an ex-Evangelist (and William Lane Craig protege) who renounced his faith and now provides the complete guide to why, addressing almost every conceivable argument for Evangelical Christianity in extraordinary and sobering detail.

These books couldn't be more different, yet they aim at similar ends. Paolos explains as succinctly as he can why he finds the arguments for belief to be irrational (irrational, that is, insofar as anyone is actually convinced by them). He reduces them to the bare minimum of logical analysis and picks out some of the key errors they commit, all as one can expect from a mathematical mind. Yet he accomplishes this with much irreverent humor and little baggage (there are next to no footnotes, and no bibliographies, and no elaborations, just the bare essence of twelve common arguments--which he rightly regards as typical--followed by the least he needs to say to establish that they aren't logically sound). Which makes Irreligion a quick and entertaining read.

It's short. It's clever. It has funny bits. And he's almost always right. It's a good book to recommend to get someone started. But it won't end any arguments, as he just skims the surface. But, IMO, he often does this so resoundingly, there is hardly any actual reason to go any further (which is more or less his point). But everyone always insists on going further, especially believers who resist the conclusion, but even unbelievers who want every nail and joint in place and to have the matter completely settled. But if you know a seeker or undogmatic believer or uninitiated doubter who could do with a good start-up kit on why belief in God is illogical, this is a good book for the task.

Paolos also provides some novel ammo. Though most of it's old hat to experienced infidels like me (and so a bit 101), every once and a while Paolos' mathematical mind comes up with a hilarious yet rather spot-on new oddity to pick at. Like when he challenges creationism with a clever appeal to the incoherence of their inexplicable belief (inexplicable for a Christian, that is) in free market capitalism and their corresponding opposition to a centrally planned economy, by showing that biological systems are economies, and thus what many Christian Creationists argue for the American economy actually works exactly as they expect in biology, a fact we call evolution by natural selection. Though it won't end any arguments with Creationist Republicans, it's a funny and rather telling observation that (among much else) makes Irreligion worth reading. (As is, BTW, Paolos' more well-known book, Innumeracy: Mathematical Illiteracy and Its Consequences released around 2001, which I think should be required reading of every citizen, and certainly by education policy wonks nationwide.)

Loftus is radically different. His book is quite long, and dense with erudite references, endnotes, and bibliographies (making it a treasure trove of sources). He essentially turns the same leave-no-stone-unturned approach employed by the new apologetics movement (which he was trained in, by Craig no less) against that very movement. He has clearly read extensively and has a firm grasp of contemporary Christian apologetics. Unlike Paolos, there is little humor here, even less brevity, and the target is not belief in general, but Evangelical Christianity specifically. His intention is to treat Christian apologetics seriously (and comprehensively) in order to gain the attention of Christians who are serious about questioning the intellectual merits of their faith. As he puts it, this is a book written for Christians, explaining why he did (and they should) give it up.

Why I Became an Atheist is not thorough in depth. Some topics are treated in more depth than others, and few are treated to the absolute core. But his book is probably thorough in scope. Every important aspect of intellectual Evangelical Christian belief comes in for critique, and often in more depth than you'll find in any other pro-atheism tome. Indeed, unlike, say, Sam Harris or Richard Dawkins, Loftus is a fully-informed insider who knows what he's talking about. He was fully immersed in making the very case for Christianity that he now tears down. He was trained by the best, is well-read in the field, and gets all the nuances that apologists accuse pop atheists (like Harris and Dawkins) of missing. In this regard, Loftus is even more in-the-know than I am, tackling issues I know very little about (like contemporary Evangelical doctrines of hell or the trinity--topics that simply don't interest me, but that certainly interest believers and whose intellectual coherence is essential if Evangelical faith is to have any chance at credibility).

In a sense, Why I Became an Atheist is something like an ex-Christian version of J.P. Moreland's Scaling the Secular City. Where Moreland's aim was to tear down naturalism, Loftus' aim is to tear down Moreland's worldview. And yet, Loftus' work is denser and more erudite than Moreland's, by far. In fact, that may be its principal failing: it's so intellectual and thoroughgoing, I worry most Christians won't even be able to get through a fraction of it. On the other hand, for the more educated and intellectual, this is exactly what they need to read. Even though any Christian could pick at bits, the overall force of his case is, IMO, invincibly fatal.

But it isn't perfect. There is some disorganization in some of the chapters (where his topics are a bit wandering--e.g. chapter 9 on miracles meanders quite a bit--nevertheless, this book is notably improved over his last, in both organization and format) and his style of writing is not what I'd call pleasant or easy (by contrast, I sought a more readable, colloquial style in my own Sense and Goodness without God, but then some criticized me for exactly that, so there will be no pleasing everyone).

If you can get past that, one of the best things that Loftus contributes to the field of atheist philosophy, which I think is required reading for everyone, on both sides of the debate, is his Outsider Test (here in chapter 4). Given that, and his thorough scope and erudition, I doubt any honest, rational, informed Evangelical can remain in the fold after reading this book. I suspect few will ever read it. But those who do will be compelled to hide behind some measure of dishonesty, irrationality, or ignorance, or else abandon almost everything that distinguishes Evangelical Christianity (distinguishes it, that is, from far less dogmatic belief systems).

This is not to say Loftus does not err or drop the ball here and there. But even subtracting every such instance I saw, there still aren't any holes big enough to weasel through. For example:

• On pp. 106-09 Loftus naively regurgitates what Christian apologists claim about ancient science and philosophy and as a result gets several basic facts wrong. For example, contrary to Loftus, the Copernican system was actually less accurate than Ptolemy's, which in fact did predict planetary positions remarkably well. This was one of the most convincing arguments against Copernicus at the time. In fact, as Kepler subsequently showed, Copernicus threw out all the conceptual advances made by Ptolemy that were actually correct (such as non-circular orbits and inconstant velocities). But even in general (apart from this fleeting reference to Ptolemy), here as elsewhere, there is a pernicious tendency to assume that ancient science and philosophy ended with Aristotle and Plato, a mistaken notion that began in the middle ages, when all the science and philosophy that had advanced far beyond Aristotle and Plato was mostly forgotten and remained lost until well into the Renaissance and even the Modern era. Yet a lot of Christians today still haven't gotten that memo. (Being my professional field, this is a drum I often beat.)

• On p. 94 Loftus says Antony Flew suffers from Alzheimer's, but there is in fact no evidence of that particular condition. I would argue the evidence is resoundingly against it. His pathology, as best I can make out, does not match that but is closer to a more specific stroke-related memory disorder. And even that is speculative. The most we can say is that his mind does not appear to be functioning properly, for whatever reason. (I've discussed this before.)

But none of these errors actually affect his case. Once corrected, his conclusion still follows. In addition to occasional things like that, a purely technical defect is that (unlike Paolos) there is no index, and the margins are narrow, a trend in publishing I abhor, making it impossible to write notes (yes, I know my own book suffers this defect, but that was done by my publisher before I was aware of it, when it was too late--live and learn). And there are a mess of minor typos and mistakes in endnoting (e.g. some of his notes on p. 266 are mixed up, and he quotes me on p. 116 but his endnote fails to mention where those quotes come from).

But despite their various defects, both books can be worth having for different reasons--Loftus, if you want a good extensive response to contemporary Christian apologetics to consult; Paolos, if you want a fun, brief, logical rant against godism (with some nifty mathematical observations thrown in). And both books can be worth recommending for different reasons. Loftus is exactly the opposite of Paolos. Paolos is too succint and flippant (though delightfully). Loftus is too elaborate and serious (though admirably). But in a sense, those are also their respective virtues. Some people need the one and not the other. Loftus will be offputtingly scholarly, except to those who demand a serious scholarly treatment of Christian apologetics, while Paolos will be offputtingly unscholarly, except to those who haven't the time, patience, or interest to read what isn't brief, entertaining, and just-to-the-point. But then again, one can start with Paolos, then graduate to Loftus--although I recommend bridging the gap with Carrier. Those who complete my book and still want a more detailed treatment of contemporary Christian apologetical arguments (just to make sure the last nail is in the coffin), precisely because those arguments have now become so elaborate and sophisticated, will want to read Loftus.