Philosophy, religion

Did Jesus ever really exist?

One of the things I have noticed is that many people who aren’t religious tend to be slightly dismissive about the idea of Jesus ever existing. It’s a trend you can see in a lot of atheist literature as well, where the conclusion to the question is usually ‘maybe, but certainly not as presented by Christians. Could be a myth.’

And often it’s hard to find a good response to the question for the layman that isn’t very loaded. Type in the question on Google and you’ll likely be met with an abundance of extreme responses.

A seemingly sophisticated article may end up revealing itself as Christian apologetics, concluding with ‘…so, are you ready to welcome the risen Jesus into your heart?’

Or, equally bad, it could be ranting from the kind of atheists who can’t just see religions as wrong, but as REALLY, REALLY stupid (because their ego can only be validated by everyone who disagrees with them being presented as utterly moronic.) Even worse is the conspiracy theorist approach, where Jesus is said to be representative of a Sun God and the twelve disciples are the symbols of the zodiac etc. etc. (Zeitgiest, you absolute piece of shit, I’m looking at you!)

So I thought I’d do a very simple layman response as a really basic introduction to scholarly thought.

Why should you listen to me?

To be honest, you probably shouldn’t. Instead you should pick up a book by Bart Ehrman, but that’s going to be a lot more effort than skimming this blog post. So, as someone who did his dissertation on the historical Jesus, I feel fairly equipped to give a simple layman perspective.

Let’s get to it.

Did Jesus exist?

Most probably.

Shall we leave it there?

You want more? Well…okay.

The overwhelming majority of biblical scholars do think Jesus was a historical person. What exactly we can affirm about his life is up for debate, but the existence of a Jew called Jesus who went on to become the main focus of a new religious movement is largely accepted.

So why exactly do most of them accept a historical Jesus? Put simply, it’s because it’s the easiest explanation of the evidence we have available to us.

When accounting for the origins of Christianity, it is MUCH easier to work from the position there was a historical Jesus than to not.

What is the evidence?

Let’s briefly look over the available evidence for the existence of Jesus:

  • Mentions in the Epistles of Paul (written before the gospels.) The more important references are the incidental ones. For example, in 1 Galatians 1:19 he refers to ‘James, the lord’s brother’ as someone he knows. Given that this is an incidental reference in a letter to a church, it’s reasonably safe to take it at face value.
  • Gospel accounts of his life. Admittedly the gospels certainly aren’t historical texts, but they are attestations to the existence of a Jesus figure written about forty or so years after Jesus’ death.
  • Non-biblical sources:
    – Josephus, a Jewish historian, references Jesus twice. In a shorter passage he mentions James, the brother of Jesus. ‘and brought into it the brother of Jesus-who-is-called-Messiah … James by name, and some others.’ There is also a longer passage. Many believe the longer passage might have been tampered with by Christian scribes but, nevertheless, it’s largely accepted at least part of it can be ascribed to Josephus.
    – Tacitus, a Roman politician, from whom we learn a little about Jesus’ execution.
    – Other sources include Pliny the Younger. You can read a good breakdown on non-biblical sources here.
  • There seems to be no historical accounts which ever call the existence of Jesus into question. Pagan and Jewish sources would be very disparaging of Jesus but none ever come close to actually questioning whether he existed.

So based on all the evidence above, and the fact we know that a religious movement had sprung up professing belief in a messianic figure they called ‘Jesus’, the simplest explanation is to accept Jesus did in fact exist.

Is there any doubt?

Although most scholars believe in Jesus, there are still a few who question his existence. They represent the ‘Jesus myth’ approach, which suggests, as you might expect, that Jesus is a mythological invention.

This approach is, in my opinion, flawed but understandable. Given that most of what we know about Jesus comes from highly mythologised accounts (namely the gospels), it’s not hard to see why people might ask if so much of what we learn about the man is mythological, why shouldn’t we assume that the man himself was mythological?

And there are some quite adamant defenders of this approach, such as the American Historian Richard Carrier.

The trouble is they still have to account for all the evidence presented above. How would they deal, for example, with Paul’s mention of James, the brother of Jesus? Well, they may say, perhaps there was a sect of ‘brothers’, of which this James was one. Or maybe we’re wrong about the authorship of the letter.

And what about the non-biblical sources like Josephus? Perhaps it was forged, or maybe he was simply referring to the beliefs of others, and not stating something he thought fact.

These answers aren’t particularly satisfying, but they represent the great problem the Jesus myth proponents face. You have to come up with so many different complex responses to the various strands of evidence available that eventually you might as well just concede that accepting a historical Jesus is SO much simpler and, therefore, a better explanation (Occam’s razor, and all that.)

It’s also sometimes banded around that perhaps we shouldn’t take biblical scholarship as seriously as other academic disciplines because it may well have a disproportionate number of Christians emotionally invested in finding a historical Jesus. I always feel uncomfortable when we start getting a bit conspiratorial in our approach, but I think this concern may have some slight legitimacy. Whilst I don’t have stats to back it up, I do wonder if atheists, on the whole, might find it harder to get relevant university positions than someone with a faith. No empirical evidence for that, by the way, just a thought.

But even so, there are still two good responses to this:

  • The case for the historical Jesus is not an argument from authority alone. Whilst I have argued that the majority of scholars believe in the historical Jesus, even if they all turned out to be biased in their approach, you’d still have to explain the evidence presented.
  • Some of the most vocal and respected critics of the Jesus myth approach are atheists (such as Bart Ehrman and the late Maurice Casey.) Equally, even a lot of Christian interpretations are hardly your typical devotional accounts of Jesus’ life. John Dominic Crossan, for example, who identifies as a Christian, doesn’t believe Jesus performed miracles, nor that he rose again or even intended to die for mankind’s sin. In fact, at one point he suggested that Jesus’ body was eaten by dogs. So if Christian interpretations of Jesus’ life can end up being this ‘blasphemous’, I think it gives us reasonable hope that biblical scholarship is not one big exercise in confirmation bias (even if we do need to be aware it may be a factor.)

Conclusion

The above may have been a skin deep layman analysis of the case for Jesus’ existence, but hopefully it interested you enough to read further into these issues.

If we can confirm with some confidence that Jesus existed, you may wonder what we can confirm about his actual life. Unfortunately this is where things get tricky, but a lot of scholars feel comfortable in saying he was a Galilean Jew, baptised by John the Baptist, called disciples, had an incident at the temple and was crucified. We can also be reasonably confident that the disciples continued on with his message, most likely with the belief that, in some way, Jesus had risen again. Many of the disciples were then persecuted for these beliefs.

There are a whole bunch of weird and wonderful interpretations of Jesus’ life and message though, so I encourage you to go and read some.

Now, are you ready to accept the risen Jesus into your heart?…only joking!

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Philosophy, religion

Fumblings in the dark (or the appropriate response to the limitation of human reason)

Imagine, if you will, waking up in a pitch black dark room. You don’t know where you are or how you got there, nor can you see what’s in the room because of the darkness. You fumble anxiously for your phone. You need a light source. Finally you hold the phone up, but the light is weak, barely illuminating what’s in front. You have absolutely no idea where the room ends.

Here’s a question for you; what’s at the end of the room? Presumably you’ll think the answer’s obvious – ‘I have absolutely no idea.’

Now, imagine the same scenario but this time you wake up with your friend, Doris (yes, Doris…it’s my thought experiment and I’m allowed to have anachronistic names.)
“Don’t worry,” she says, noticing your heavy breathing. “It’s quite alright.”
“How can you be sure?” you ask.
“At the end of this room is a little lamp and, sitting right next to it, a really cute little kitten. You’ll love it.”
You breathe a sigh of relief.
“Oh, thank goodness. How do you know all that?”
“I just do,” shrugs Doris.
Your body begins to go cold as the hope slowly drains.
“What do you mean ‘you just do’?”
“I have faith,” Doris replies.
“But you’ve got no evidence,” you say, staring into the dark abyss.
“No,” laughs Doris, “that’s why it’s called faith, silly.”
You shake your head, unable to believe what you’re hearing.
“Besides,” she continues, “do you have any reason to think there isn’t a really cute kitten at the end of the room?”

In this scenario, do you think Doris is being sensible in her assertion? Let’s come back to this later.

 

The limitations of reason

“I know one thing; that I know nothing”, the famous Socratic paradox goes. Indeed if there’s one thing we can be reasonably sure of, it’s that we know very little. And I’m not even talking about the big questions, think of all the many known facts you have no knowledge of. Think of everything in biology, chemistry, physics, geology, history, geography, astronomy etc. that you don’t know (of course most of the things you don’t know, you won’t know you don’t know.)

It’s likely that each of us, as individuals, know considerably less than even 1% of everything that IS known. Isn’t that humbling? Sometimes we’re so used to our own bubble that we forget how DEEPLY ignorant we really are as individuals. It’s for this reason that I believe so strongly in the necessity of experts when it comes to beginning to make sense of the world, even if appealing to authority is hardly foolproof. In a world of growing egos, ever more elaborate conspiracy theories and stupid world leaders, the collective good that comes from trusting people specialising in a field and becoming informed experts really is at threat.

But, deeper still, there are questions to which reason simply doesn’t seem to offer an answer. Is there a God? What happens when we die? Does life have a purpose? These ideas ask questions beyond the physical and are, perhaps by necessity, outside the capacity of either the scientific method or human reason (unless you’re clinging onto the ontological argument for dear life, but I’m guessing most of you aren’t.)

It’s absolutely necessary that we accept this limitation – there is no point in pretending otherwise. In this way we are like that person trapped in the darkened room unable to see what’s at the end (and of course, we don’t have the liberty of being able to walk up and take a look for ourselves.) But so few of us actually act in this way – instead will fill this gap of knowledge with gods and demons, ghosts and spirits, meaning and purpose. We ‘do a Doris’, so to speak.

 

Is this a responsible reaction to the limitations of human reason?

Regardless of whatever motivates us to fill these gaps, the question becomes is it responsible to do so? In the case of Doris and her cute cat, do you think she is right to believe in the moggy at the end of the room? Presumably not, because there is absolutely no reason to think there is a kitten there.

And what of Doris’ reply, that there is no evidence to the contrary? Well that doesn’t seem satisfying either, you could come up with just about any theory (there’s an alien, an old man, a rocking horse, a T-Rex etc.) and the same would still be true. As is widely agreed, the burden of proof is always on the person making the claim, batty old Doris in this case. If Doris can’t justify her belief in the cat then she can’t expect others to believe her.

It’s because this all seems so obvious to me, that I find it hard to understand why rationalists and those who ask for evidence are so often portrayed as arrogant. There’s a definite imagining of the stuffy-old sceptic who thinks he knows everything. In fact I watched The Conjuring 2 recently (which I rather enjoyed, even if it has cost me a few hours sleep) and they portray the academics who don’t believe in hauntings as closed minded fools who arrogantly refuse to look beyond their noses. But this is all very misleading.

A true sceptic or rationalist is not assuming they know everything at all, quite the opposite in fact. They are simply asking for evidence of these claims in much the same way you would ask of evidence from dear old Doris. In fact if Doris is really convinced of her claims and judges you for not believing them, it is actually Doris who is extremely arrogant, as she is making the claim that she knows something extraordinary that nobody else has been able to prove. It’s her making the big claims about what’s at the end of the room who is presumptuous, not the person simply asking for some proof.

And so, it seems to me, in the face of the limitations of human reason, the answer is not just to plump for whatever belief system you fancy, but to stop and humbly acknowledge we simply don’t know. What’s at the end of the room? I don’t know.

Now, that’s not to say that everybody’s view is suddenly equal. In the case of Doris, her prediction is very specific and therefore more likely to be wrong. Just in the way that saying there’s another living being in this room gives greater probability to her claim than specifically insisting it’s a cat, the same is also true when talking of a God –‘ there may be a conscious designer of the universe’ is more probable than talking about a specific God who has a problem with homosexuality or shellfish (of course in both cases you’d still need a reason to make any sort of claim like this at all.)

It’s also possible that certain claims become less likely in virtue of the absence of evidence. When Doris states there’s a kitten at the end of the room, it would eventually cause us to doubt her further if we never hear a ‘meow’ (or any sound at all.) Equally, whilst we can never say for certain that psychic powers don’t exist, the fact that no scientifically controlled experiment has ever produced evidence of psychic powers should cause us some suspicion. Absence of evidence might not be evidence of absence, but we should be alarmed when evidence we may expect to see isn’t there.

But, in many ways, they are nuances for a greater discussion. The simple point at this moment is the mature response to the limitation of human reason is not making something up, as Doris does, but instead remaining absolutely open to any possibility if the evidence presents itself. And, if the question is beyond the capacity of human reason, simply remaining agnostic altogether.

 

What about faith?

I can’t tell you the amount of times I’ve been having an interesting discussion with someone about their beliefs and suddenly it becomes a dead-end. Why? Well I’m fascinated by what people believe (that’s part of the reason I did Philosophy and Theology as a degree) but I’m even more interested in why they believe it, I think that’s the much meatier part of the discussion.

Yet, when someone evokes ‘faith’ as an answer it stops the conversation dead. In fact, often it’s said with a satisfied smile, as if faith is a virtue I haven’t quite ascended to yet. But in truth, if your definition of faith is ‘believing something for no reason’, that’s not virtuous, that’s ridiculous. Sorry, but it’s true. Faith, when defined in such a way, is just a crutch to hold onto beliefs that you know rationally you should do away with.

It’s not surprising we fall into this trap of using faith in such a way. For some time ‘faith’ has been defined as ‘believing without reason’ by certain religious groups and people mistake it for a supporting tenet of organised religion (ancient and, therefore, wise.) But, in actual fact, I remain far from convinced that this definition of faith is something the ancients would particularly recognise. It’s a big topic for another day, but I can’t help but doubt that the use of the word in an ancient world, pre-enlightenment and the scientific method, would mean the same thing as it does today post those movements.

Even a brief glance at the use of the word in the Abrahamic religions shows it unlikely was used to denote blindly believing something, in fact it seems largely about ‘faith in God’, not ‘faith in God’s existence.’ That’s a clear distinction. If I said I have faith in my parents, for example, you would presume I’m talking about trusting their ability to deliver, not blind belief in their existence. Throughout most the Hebrew Scriptures it’s taken for granted that God exists, so faith is almost always about trusting in his word as opposed to trusting in his existence.

And indeed, in the New Testament, 1 Peter 3:15 says ‘Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have’. Presumably this indicates some kind of rational persuasion, not an insistence on blind acceptance.

I do plan to one day look at this issue of faith in MUCH more depth, but a brief skimming of the subject indicates that calling on ‘faith’ to defend belief without reason is not some virtuous religious tradition but likely a reasonably modern definition of the word, re-defined for a post-enlightenment age where the existence of God is substantially called into question.

The true definition of ‘faith’ throughout religious traditions is likely going to be a lot richer and a lot more beautiful than the tacky gift shop version that is often bandied around today.

 

Why does this matter?

When all is said and done, you may wonder why any of this matters.

Well, I think we’re encouraged today to have opinions on things, and pushed not to ‘sit on the fence’ (which, I think, is often a perfectly fine place to be.) Plus there’s a natural human inclination to attribute meaning and a narrative to our existence. But to begin to adequately form a worldview, we need to make sure the very building blocks on which it’s formed is sound, yet seldom do we invest time analysing them.

And this is not a conclusion by the way, it’s very much just a beginning. You might think, based on this post, that I’m totally agnostic, but that’s not strictly true, I actually have theistic leanings. But it’s so important to make clear (to ourselves, if no-one else) our attitude to reason, to its limitations and our approach to evidence, before we can even begin to start making a positive case for any particular worldview.

So in conclusion…we need to be humble inquisitors, not a Doris.

 

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