The Fellows of the Seminar are critical scholars. To be a critical scholar means to make empirical, factual evidence—evidence open to confirmation by independent neutral observers—the controlling factor in historical judgment.
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For more specifics on the criteria of historicity used by the Jesus Seminar, we turn to one of their primary publications, the Five Gospels. Note this statement:
In sorting out the sayings and parables attributed to Jesus, Gospel scholars are guided by this fundamental axiom: Only sayings and parables that can be traced back to the oral period, 30–50 CE, can possibly have originated with Jesus. Words that can be demonstrated to have been first formulated by the Gospel writers are eliminated from contention. Scholars search for two different kinds of proof. They look for evidence that particular formulations are characteristic of individual evangelists or can only be understood in the social context of the emerging Christian movement. Or they search for evidence that sayings and parables antedate the written Gospels.
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However, it does not take long to see that these criteria used by the Jesus Seminar are fundamentally flawed.
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They simply have traded one sort of dogmatism for another. Note, for example, that the above general criteria are supported by three “rules of attestation,” the first of which is “[s]ayings or parables that are attested in two or more independent sources are older than the sources in which they are embedded.”
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The false assumption here parallels that of the search for an “original text” in that it assumes that by reconstructing some earlier source behind later ones, one has come closer to the “original” Jesus. In fact, in such a case one has simply uncovered an earlier tradition about Jesus, but that earlier tradition is not necessarily “less invented” (or “more authentic”) than some later source.
Second, even attestation by two “independent” sources really proves nothing more than the existence of a “tradition,” rather than the existence of the actual words or deeds of Jesus. That is to say, if Source X and Source Y agreed that Jesus said Z, then all you have proved is that two independent sources agree that there was a tradition that “Jesus said Z.” This does not mean that Jesus actually said Z.
All this is dependent, in turn, on the seminar's premise that there was “an oral period” that spanned from 30 CE to 50 CE, before the first texts about Jesus were supposedly written. Of course, this would mean that any written tradition reconstructed still has at least a twenty-year gap to fill with sources whose veracity cannot be verified by us, and probably not by any of the persons who were recording events at which they were not present.
If we look at specific texts, we start seeing the subjectivity of specific judgments. Consider Matthew 5:38–41 in the Jesus Seminar's translation:
38. As you know, we once were told, “An eye for an eye,” and “A tooth for a tooth.” 39. But I tell you: Don't react violently against the one who is evil: when someone slaps you on the right cheek, turn the other as well. 40. When someone wants to sue you for your shirt, let that person have your coat along with it. 41. Further, when anyone conscripts you for one mile, go an extra mile. 42. Give to the one who begs from you; and don't turn away the one who tries to borrow from you.
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According to the editors, Jesus did not say what is in verse 38. However, he did say everything (except “But I tell you”) in verses 39–41. In verse 42, only the first clause is certain according to the Jesus Seminar, and the second one (“and don't…”) is less so. And how were these degrees of certainty decided? The editors tell us that
[t]he aphorisms in 5:38–41 are case parodies with a very narrow range of application. In contrast, the aphorisms in 5:42 are universal injunctions: give to everyone who begs and lend to all who want to borrow—everywhere, at all times. These sayings are short and pithy, they cut against the social grain, and they indulge in humor and paradox. The person who followed them literally would soon be destitute. It is inconceivable that the primitive Christian community would have made them up, and they appear not to have been part of the common lore of the time.
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All this is quite confusing. The instructions in 5:38–41 are described as having a “very narrow range of application” in contrast to the instructions in 5:42, which are universal injunctions. But what “narrowness” and “universality” have to do with any decision seems irrelevant because it is not clear that the injunctions in 5:38–41 are not universal. Why doesn't the injunction about turning the cheek in verse 39 apply “everywhere, at all times” just as much as the one about giving to the one who begs in verse 42? And why is the last clause of verse 42 given a lesser degree of certainty even though it seems just as universal as the first clause in that same verse? Moreover, the entire exercise is premised on having a very clear psychological and personality profile of Jesus. But how do we know what Jesus might have been thinking in the first place except through the texts that the Jesus Seminar has predetermined to derive from Jesus? After all, one reason given is that it is “inconceivable” that the primitive church would have made these sayings up. But we have no information on what the early Church members, who might have penned these words, could conceive or not. So what data is being used to judge the “conceivability” of any idea for these church members?
Consider also Mark 2:1–12, which relates the famous case of a paralytic who had to be lowered through a roof of the house where Jesus was staying because the crowds outside the house were so large. According to the Jesus Seminar translation, Jesus’ first words to the paralytic were (verse 5) “Child, your sins are forgiven.”
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Jewish scholars present were said to have been astounded by such a pronouncement, as they believed only God had the power to forgive sins. But Jesus responded in verse 10 that he had said this “so that you may realize that [on earth] the son of Adam has authority to forgive sins.”
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The Jesus Seminar judges that Jesus did not use a term such as “Son of Adam” or say anything about forgiving sins. Actually, they have a contradictory conclusion. On the one hand, Jesus’ claim seems bold enough that “it is just possible that Mark 2:10 preserves early tradition.”
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On the other hand, the editors ultimately decided that
[t]he early church was in the process of claiming for itself the right to forgive sins and so would have been inclined to claim that its authorization came directly from Jesus as the Messianic figure, “the son of Adam.” In that case, v. 10 would be the product of the Christian storyteller, who is reading the convictions of the later community back into an incident in Jesus’ life.
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There are problems with the reasoning leading to both conclusions. First, the idea of a healer forgiving sins is not as bold as the seminar suggests. In fact, in the DSS we find a text called “The Prayer of Nabonidus,” which is named for a Babylonian king of the sixth century BCE. In that text, an exorcist heals Nabonidus, and the latter may be interpreted to say that “an exorcist forgave my sin. He was a J[ew].…”
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Second, the reasoning used to reject the authenticity of the saying is also based on numerous and circular suppositions. For instance, what sources are used to evaluate what the church was “in the process of claiming” between 30 and 50 CE? More importantly, why can't we use this same rationale to evict from the Gospels almost any saying of Jesus? That is to say, anything Jesus said could have been the product of a Christian storyteller who wanted to bolster particular creeds that his faith community was “in the process of claiming.”
It would be futile to multiply examples because they are all based on similar principles. The Jesus Seminar has predetermined what Jesus or the early church thought, and then they have simply selected those verses that accord with what the Jesus Seminar thinks that Jesus thought.
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So despite no supernaturalism in their assumptions, the members of the Jesus Seminar are no different from fundamentalists who pick and choose proof texts to bolster their image of Jesus. All they have done is create a Jesus in their own image, as Robert Price, and Albert Schweitzer before him, acutely argued.
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But there's more to consider, because the existence of other Gospels changes everything. Charles W. Hedrick, who discovered a “lost Gospel,” placed the number of Gospels at thirty-four in 2002.
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According to him, we have four canonical Gospels, four complete noncanonical Gospels, seven fragmentary Gospels, four Gospels known only from early quotations, two hypothetical Gospels (Q and the Signs Gospels), and thirteen known only by a name mentioned in some ancient source.
In any case, and without rehearsing the contents and debates about each of the noncanonical Gospels counted by Hedrick, we can make the following brief comments about their implications for the end of biblical studies. First, these “lost” Gospels confirm that early Christianity was so diverse and chaotic that we can no longer speak of “Christianity” but now must talk of “Christianities,” a point made by, among others, Bart Ehrman in his book
Lost Christianities
.
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What these “Christianities” have in common is their claimed connection with a “Christ,” who is portrayed in astoundingly variegated fashion.
Second, we can no longer privilege just the canonical Gospels as the earliest or best sources for depicting early Christianity. This, of course, is a fundamental principle of the Jesus Seminar, and John Dominic Crossan's study of the Historical Jesus already places the Gospel of Thomas and the Egerton Gospel in the earliest stratum of his sources (alongside 1 Thess., Gal., 1 Cor., and Rom.).
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The fact remains that the earliest dated manuscript of any Gospel is a tiny fragment known as P
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, which contains only a few verses from John 18. That fragment cannot tell us if the unpreserved part of that manuscript bears a Gospel of John much like ours. The other three Gospels do not have manuscripts dated before the third century, and the complete ones come from the fourth. However, such dates for canonical materials overlap with at least some of the dates for noncanonical Gospels. The Greek fragments of the Gospel of Thomas as well as the Egerton Gospel have been dated to the second century, and the Greek manuscripts of the Gospel of Mary have been dated to the third century (as well as one manuscript of the Gospel of Judas, which is also attested even earlier—like many noncanonical Gospels, in the second century).
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Thus, we cannot say that these Gospels have less “authentic” or “historical” material than the canonical Gospels—if they have any authentic or historical material at all. And if we dismiss noncanonical Gospels as forgeries because they were probably not written by the claimed authors, then the same must be said for many books in the canon, ranging from Moses's “books” to 2 Peter.
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The point remains that we cannot verify or falsify many claims in these noncanonical Gospels any more than we can verify or falsify claims in the canonical ones.
If we identify biblical studies with the study of only the canonical materials, then it is clear that “biblical studies” actually ended decades ago. After all, we have been studying many of the noncanonical works in the Dead Sea Scrolls for decades. But as the shift to noncanonical Gospels accelerates, so, too, will the final death of biblical studies.
The quest for the historical Jesus is an abject failure. Further progress is futile because we simply don't have
any
preserved accounts of Jesus from his time or from any proven eyewitnesses. And even if we were to discover lots of new material mentioning Jesus in his supposed lifetime, such material still would not render us much surer of anything. After all, we possess an abundance of contemporary material about Mary at Medjugorje, but most Protestant apologists easily dismiss it. Contemporaneity means very little, after all, if we cannot verify the information in any contemporary reports.
We can dismiss the conservative scholars as motivated by religious agendas, but what propels the more liberal academic scholars to invest in such futile searches for the historical Jesus? The answer is that both the conservative and liberal historical Jesus scholars still share religionist and bibliolatrous bonds. They believe that Jesus’ words matter or should matter. But who is the audience for historical Jesus studies? The audience consists mostly of believers who think that Jesus’ words and deeds are preserved in the Bible, or that at least some of them are recoverable. Intellectual honesty should compel at least the liberal scholars to announce aggressively to the world that Jesus cannot be found, and that any notion of following actual words or deeds of Jesus is vacuous.
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LITERARY CRITICISM
As it relates to biblical studies, literary criticism is the discipline devoted to elucidating the literary artistry of biblical authors. For our purposes, we use literary criticism to describe a suite of approaches unified by the idea that biblical texts are constructed artfully and have artistic merit. As David J. A. Clines and J. Cheryl Exum, two of its most influential current practitioners, observe in their own survey of literary criticism, “its primary concern is the text as an object, a product, not as a window upon historical actuality.”
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Such a description reflects what is called “New Criticism” in broader secular literary studies. The New Criticism focuses on a work of art as an autonomous object whose beauty is not dependent on its historical context. A Rembrandt painting retains its beauty no matter what historical forces brought it about.
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One need not excavate deeply to find the motives for literary analysis of the Bible among virtuosos such as Robert Alter, Meir Sternberg, and Frank Kermode.
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In fact, the apologetic intent is sometimes quite frank, as in the case of Robert Alter's comment on how ancient and modern readers have approached the Hebrew Bible: