Part One: Prolegomena
Chapter 5: Historical Criticism
Textual Criticism is concerned with the comparison of various witnesses to the early text of a document and has as its goal the establishment of its earliest form. Literary criticism is concerned with the comparison of various literary forms and materials and has as its goal the literary analysis of a document in order to ascertain the way or ways in which its author expressed his thought. Historical criticism, to which we now turn, is concerned with the time/place setting of a document, its sources, events discussed in or implied by the document. Historical criticism builds on textual and literary criticism, and its end product is the writing of history, a narrative which reports events in a sequence roughly
chronological. Chronological sequence is the skeleton of history.
Without it there can be no historical narrative, and no interpretation of casual relationships; for while what is prior is not necessarily the, or a, cause of what is posterior, that which is posterior can never be the, or a, cause of what is prior. For this reason those who criticize the search for
‘what actually happened’ as the study of ‘mere events’ and the results as
‘nothing but chronicle’ are mistaken. Without chronicle history cannot be written. Even the analysis of the past in relation to social, political, economic, philosophical or theological theory has to be based on a chronological sequence.
Moreover, while it may be held that the record of events provides us with a skeleton and perhaps even a body, but not with a soul or spirit, it
must be remembered that a soul or spirit needs the clothing of body if it is to act historically. History is more than the history of ideas. While the sciences of tactics, strategy and logistics are obviously important in interpreting military or naval history, the history of warfare is not just the history of theory. It must be concerned with wars, campaigns and battles in which real men actually made decisions and acted upon them.
Similarly, economic and social factors are undoubtedly significant; but historical events cannot be understood solely in relation to them. The Roman empire was the creation not of factors alone but of Julius Caesar and Augustus. Christianity arose not simply because of Jewish
apocalypticism and Hellenistic piety but because of the work of Jesus Christ and his apostles.
Before discussing the kinds of materials which the historical critic uses, we should say something about what he can expect to learn from them.
He can expect to find out a great deal about significant public events, especially battles, murders and sudden deaths. He can find out about institutions and their organization. What he cannot find out, unless the materials happen to mention it, is any account of what a private person did at a particular time and in a particular place. "To obtain this
information he must rely upon accounts written by or about such a private person. No amount of inference, however plausible, can lead him to a fact about this person, for this person’s motives and actions are unique and cannot be reconstructed hypothetically. It is, of course, possible that the person himself or a later writer describing him, has misinterpreted his motives or incorrectly described his actions; but existing accounts, whatever their quality, must be given preference over the historian’s hypothetical reconstructions. (We shall later consider the problem which arises when the accounts disagree with one another.) It should also be said that all the materials which the historian uses are modern -- that is to say, they exist now. If they did not exist now, he obviously could not use them. Some interpreters of history, or of the writing of history, have therefore argued that the historian’s work is strictly contemporary. He uses his materials in order to create a picture which has modern significance and, because he is influenced by his own religious, psychological, social and economic situation -- often in ways he does not recognize -- he is not, and should not try to be, a discoverer or recoverer of ‘what actually happened’. What happened cannot be recovered. No doubt this argument possesses some validity. Absolute
‘objectivity’ is not an attainable goal. At the same time, a historian who tries to write history rather than propaganda will not be content to
impose his own will on the materials with which he deals. He will enter into a conversation with the materials from the past, a conversation in the course of which he will expect to learn something, not simply to engage in a monologue. Such a historian will recognize some of his own limitations as well as the limitations of his method and his materials, and he will try to maintain a scrupulous honesty in the face of data which do not correspond with his preconceptions.
There are various kinds of data with which the historian is concerned.
(1) There are archaeological data, some of them non-literary (buildings, artifacts, etc.),others literary (inscriptions, papyri), still others ‘mixed’
(coins, medals, etc.). Those which are literary or semi-literary in nature must be examined critically. Not every official inscription conveys the whole truth about the events to which it is related; an example is
provided by the inscriptions which express the joy of subject
populations in celebrating the emperor’s birthday. Even a private letter, preserved on papyrus by chance, does not necessarily present a
complete account of the events mentioned in it. (2) There are also non- archaeological data, materials which we know because they have been copied and recopied in the course of their transmission. These data usually consist of the literary productions of poets, philosophers, historians, and -- for that matter -- evangelists. In addition, there are literary or semi-literary documents such as letters; the originals of the Pauline epistles have been lost, but the epistles are known to us from copies of copies.
In dealing with these data there are several distinctions which can be made, and the historian must deal critically not only with the materials but also with the distinctions.
Primary and Secondary
All data have relevance in relation to some situation or other. (1) All data are contemporaneous with the time in which they were written.
Thus a letter written in the year 50 is obviously significant for our synthesis of events in that year; in addition, a historical narrative, describing events in the year 10 but written in the year 50, is also significant for 50 because it reflects the interests of that year. For this reason the gospels are important witnesses to the life of the church in the time in which they were written, as well as to the life of Jesus which the evangelists endeavour to describe. The importance of this
contemporaneousness should not, however, be exaggerated, since -- as
we have already argued -- historical writers do not simply reflect the concerns of their contemporaries (including themselves), but enter into a dialogue with the past.
(2) Moreover, all data, to a greater or a lesser degree, provide evidence for the time before they were written, since their creators did not create ex nihilo. Their language is not their own; many of their ideas are not their own but come from previous generations. In historical writing the historian’s testimony is more significant in relation to an earlier time than in relation to his own. Thus, though it is sometimes said that the gospels provide us with evidence from the time when they were written rather than with sources dealing with an earlier period, such a statement can easily mislead the unwary. The evangelists did, indeed, testify to the meaning of Jesus in relation to their own times; but it was Jesus with whose meaning they were concerned. They and their informants were dealing with materials which had been remembered, not invented. To be sure, the locus of remembering is always in the present, but the locus of what is remembered is in the past. The early Church included
individuals who not only proclaimed the gospel but also remembered who the Jesus was whose life, death and resurrection were being proclaimed. The apostle Paul was quite capable of differentiating a
‘commandment of the Lord’ from his own interpretation of it (I Cor.
7.10, 12). The fact that man has a memory means that he is not simply contemporaneous or ‘modern’.
At the same time, memory plays tricks. In analysing reports based on memory, therefore, some measure of precedence must be given to accounts written soon after the events and based on the reports of eye- witnesses. (1) The best account is written fairly soon after the event, since at that time the writer has less opportunity to see how he ought to modify the record with a view to preserving his own reputation or that of his friends. Since he cannot usually foresee later consequences he is likely to present an unvarnished account. The farther he gets from the event the more likely he is to fail, voluntarily or involuntarily, to recall and record it correctly. (2).The best account is written by, or based on the reminiscences of, an eye-witness. Such a witness has heard with his own ears and seen with his own eyes; he himself participated in the experience. He is not likely, at least at first, to combine rationalization of the event with his remembrance of it. Yet the measure of precedence the historian gives to early accounts, even by or from eye-witnesses, cannot eliminate other considerations. The eye-witness may have been so much influenced by his expectations of what ought to have taken
place that he identified what should have happened with what did happen. He may not have been an accurate observer or an accurate reporter. His memory may have been more reliable than his first-hand testimony was. In other words, there are few, if any, absolutes in the writing of history.
On the other hand, we must remember that as critical analysts we may doubt the accuracy of the witness’s record but we cannot substitute our own conjectures for what he has reported. If there are two or more conflicting accounts, we can indicate which of them is to be regarded as the more trustworthy and try to explain how the other or others arose. If there is only one, we cannot invent an alternative account, since
historical events are not precisely predictable. All we can do when we have a single, seemingly unreliable narrative, is to indicate why we reject it and admit our ignorance as to what actually happened -- if we think anything did happen.
Sometimes a distinction between ‘primary’ and ‘secondary’ materials is used in order to make choices between differing accounts of the same, or similar, events. For example, the accounts of Paul’s career to be found in his own letter to the Galatians and in the later book of Acts are not altogether in concord. Should we then claim that his letter is a
‘primary’ source of information, Acts a ‘secondary’ one? It is most unlikely that history can be analysed so neatly. More probably, Paul writes from one standpoint, the author of Acts from another; neither account deserves absolute confidence to the exclusion of the other. The task of the historian is to compare similarities and differences and to try to construct an inclusive account which will do justice to both points of view. Furthermore, though Paul was obviously an eye-witness and Luke (as far as early events are concerned) was probably not one, it must be recalled that documents later in time (Acts) can be based on materials as early as, or earlier than, documents produced by eye-witnesses. These points mean that no absolute distinction can be drawn between
‘primary’ and ‘secondary’, at least without careful critical analysis.
Fact and Interpretation
Another common distinction is that made between ‘fact’ and
‘interpretation’. Essentially a fact is something which is, or could be, recognizable by all the possible witnesses to an occurrence. Thus it is a fact that Jesus was crucified. An interpretation, on the other hand, is essentially that of an individual or a group; it varies from individual to
individual or from group to group. Caiaphas, Judas, Pontius Pilate and the apostles interpreted the crucifixion of Jesus in differing ways.
Therefore, it is sometimes held, the historians will deal with the fact after separating the various interpretations from it.
To make such a separation is very difficult, for facts are almost always remembered, and accounts of them are transmitted, because they
seemed meaningful both at the time the events occurred and in the period immediately afterwards. In addition, the analyst is trying to deal with the subjective interpretation(s) provided by an ancient author -- as well as with the interpretation(s) provided by that author’s source(s) -- on the basis of his own judgement. Suppose that the analyst can show that the author had a particular axe to grind. It will be hard to show that this axe was different from the axes of earlier witnesses, or that it (or they) necessarily distorted the impression(s) which the original event made on the minds of eye-witnesses at the time. The summaries which Luke gives in the first half of Acts, for example, are his own, but they may accurately reflect the early life of the Jerusalem church.
Only when two or more sources of information are available can the analyst definitely show that a subjective judgement has provided a mistaken interpretation -- or when, for example, a summary contradicts or distorts the materials being summarized. Before claiming that
contradiction or distortion exists, however, the analyst must be sure that the summary is not based upon materials which the author did not
reproduce. If it is based upon such materials, or if it may have been based on them, it is obviously not the product of the author’s
imagination alone.
If it can be shown that one document, actually in existence, is a source of another existing document (as when Mark is employed by Luke), the analyst can proceed to show how the later writer has modified the materials he employs. Two warnings, however, need to be given at this point. (1) Analysis of Luke’s revision of Mark does not justify any conjectures about Mark’s possible revision of his other sources. We do not know what those sources were, apart from the preaching and
teaching of the apostle Peter (and perhaps others), and we do not know precisely what Mark did with them. (2) The analysis cannot proceed in reverse. It cannot be claimed that the more highly ‘developed’ of two documents is necessarily the later of the two, for it must first be proved (a) that one of the two is later than the other, and (b) that the one
presumably later makes use of the earlier one. This is to say that
apparent literary relationships or cases of ‘development’ do not provide solid ground for chronology.
The Idea of Development
Sometimes just such an analysis is used in order to get back to the original form of a tradition or, in other words, to get close to the events or facts by tracing lines of interpretation from the known back into the unknown. Put rather crudely, this use of the theory of development can be expressed geometrically. We assume that we know points D and E on a particular line of tradition; we can assess the distance between D and E and also the direction DE. Then in theory, we can proceed to
reconstruct the line (ABC)DE, and even the distances A, BC, and CD.
Unfortunately the course of human events, like that of true love, does not run so smoothly. The idea of development seems to have come from biology, where it is used in reference to the process of evolution from a previous and lower (e.g., embryonic) stage to a later, more complex or more perfect one; this development can involve differentiation into individual organisms and their subsequent histories.(For this definition see The American College Dictionary [New York, 1947], 331.)
Development involves continuity among the various stages of the
organism which develops. It is therefore different from change, in which the phenomenon being considered is distinctly different from what it was. There is also alteration, in which there is a partial change and the identity of the phenomenon is still preserved. It is the notion of
development which best combines the elements of sameness and difference -- together with an emphasis on the growth of something living.
The basic question, however, is that of the extent to which early Christianity, for example, actually did develop, and the use of a semi- biological term may well confuse the issue by implying that the answer is already known. It may also tend to suggest that there were no radical alterations, or even changes, in the history of the early Church, or that by ‘development’ is meant a process which from small beginnings (Jesus) brought great things (the Church). Such a notion obviously does not do justice to such revolutionary events as the crucifixion and
resurrection of Jesus or the conversion of Paul. Whether or not there was development in the early Church, the idea of development cannot be used as a guide for the reconstruction of its history. It may serve as a hypothesis; it is not an analytical instrument.
Change and Decay
What we have said about development should also be applied to theories about an original, authentic, pure Christianity which was later distorted by various secondary factors. Such theories have a long history within, and on the edge of; the Christian Church. Marcion, for example, held that the pure gospel of Jesus was distorted by his disciples who
modified it severely when they presented it to Jews; and similar notions are often latent in the work of modern scholars. Since fashions change, the contrasts developed by one generation often differ from those emphasized by the previous one; but it can be shown that underlying a good deal of study supposedly analytical in nature there is a very simple set of antitheses which are supposed to be self-evident. In previous times it was customary to contrast Jesus with Paul, or the Jesus of history with the Christ of faith, or the synoptic gospels with the Fourth Gospel. Alternatively, faith or grace could be contrasted with works, moralism, sacraments, doctrines, and creeds, and the ‘New Testament teaching’ could be found in Paul but not in James, Matthew, or the synoptic gospels in general. For a time there were those who believed that the essential ‘kerygma’ could be emphasized at the expense of the less significant ‘didache’, though the fairly obvious fact that in early Christianity ‘gospel’ included both preaching and teaching lessens the force of this contrast. More recently it has been fashionable to compare the authentic Hebrew elements in the New Testament with the less satisfactory elements which can be called ‘late Jewish’ or ‘Greek’.
The chief difficulty with these antitheses is that they are not historical.
They arise out of the needs of modern writers to pick and choose among the various elements in the New Testament and Christian synthesis, and when they are used as instruments of analysis they become substitutes for thought. They are created by laying emphasis on certain distinctive, or seemingly distinctive, features in the various documents and by neglecting equally important resemblances. A warning can be given if we look at a problem in Old Testament studies. A generation ago it was customary to contrast prophetic with priestly elements. Now the
pendulum has swung again, and it is recognized that much prophecy arose out of the priesthood and that priests preserved the writings of prophets. Similarly, the study of Judaism has led to the recognition that there were Greek elements in it, and that a sharp separation of Jewish from Greek ideas is not justifiable. The world in which Christianity arose was not characterized by the contrasts which some scholars have