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The Historian and the Believer (Continued)
At this point we should remind ourselves of an essential point. Christianity claims to be an "historical" faith. It does not lay claim to truth based primarily upon tradition, myths or stories but upon events which really happened.

Yes, there may be and are accretions and myths in the New Testament. But underpinning them all there is a sound basis of historical fact. Not scientific fact, but nevertheless objective truth in the sense that historians talk of "the truth".

Despite all the twists and turns of theologians, liberal and conservative, they have all sought to maintain or restore this fundamental claim. Jesus existed as a real, flesh-and-blood person. A substratum of events as recorded in the New Testament really happened. Regardless of what doctrines and traditions have been built upon these events, the history remains - ready and available to be reassessed and reinterpreted by each successive generation.

Harvey's argument at this point is at its best - incisive, clear and strong. He spells out the essence of history as a discipline, and demonstrates that all the efforts of theologians to avoid the lessons of history have fallen short of their overblown hopes.

Jesus unbound
Harvey correctly claims for history as we know it today an ethical dimension. Its methods, he says, have to do with our struggle for truth. It is ethically dishonest to abandon historical methods when they
don't suit one.

What then are the key aspects of historical method, and do these aspects ground the discipline as close to objectivity as we can get?

First, the historian must be free to think for herself, to follow the evidence and the sometimes weak and flickering light of reason wherever it leads. This is not to say that our rationality is perfect, but rather that thinking for oneself is difficult and dangerous.

This approach is radical because it calls to question "…the intellectual ideal that … possessed the heart of Christendom for centuries, the ideal of belief", writes Harvey.

The filtering of distortions, the weighing up and assessing of material before using it, all require that the historian give reasons for what is selected and rejected - unlike those who operate from belief.

It's worth quoting a crucial passage at this point: "If the historian permits his authorities to stand uncriticised … He is no longer a seeker of knowledge but a mediator of past belief, not a thinker but a transmitter of tradition."

In short, the historian strives for autonomy. It's worth asking if Christendom, even in the 21st century, strives to inculcate autonomy in the lives of its followers. Not so, I think.

The scales of Faith
If autonomy of thought is a spiritually hazardous condition for the vast majority of Christians, then an open debate in which doctrines are tested and re-tested to destruction exists only fleetingly.

But open debate remains essential because the submission of historical conclusions - upon which, remember, the Christian faith rests - to those who have the skill to assess their worth is the only way of retaining the credentials of the faith.

We perhaps forget that the "test to destruction" criterion operates in science. Scientific theories are never recognised as transparently true. They must be tested and argued over to gain standing. So too with the claims of the historian.

Without the full, open and frank publication of evidence, reasoned argument and conclusions no historian may justifiably lay claim to the truth. Anything less is a statement of belief or opinion.

This is the essence of the problem which separates theologians and historians. It is a problem less of explanation and more of moral justification, a difference concerning intellectual integrity, the very morality of knowledge.

Show me your warrant!
We shouldn't blame the ordinary Christian too much for shortcomings in the philosophy of history! But one can't help wondering how much time is spent in theological colleges and pulpits elucidating vital aspects
of the historical knowledge upon which the claim for Christian truth is supposed to be founded.

For if history has anything to do with being a Christian then surely it's important to know exactly what are the proofs required to make a valid claim.

I found Harvey's explanation of these proofs - or "warrants" in his terms - particularly compelling.

The field of study we call "history" requires a certain type of argument. We constantly use a variety of arguments to pursue the truth of the many different issues which confront us in life. So also in history. We may draw a particular historical conclusion (C) and present data (D) to back it up. The data may be strengthened by a warrant (W) which shows that it is good data.

So we might assert as history that "Jesus was crucified" (D) from which we conclude that he was a political enemy of Rome (C). But can we draw this conclusion? Yes, because crucifixion was reserved by the Roman authorities for political enemies (W).

Differing warrants carry differing force. So some historical arguments might require qualifiers (Q) like "possibly" or "definitely". In terms of Christian history, it's worth noting Harvey's point that the terms "possible" and "impossible" mean different things for natural in contrast with human events. A warrant or qualifier might attract a rebuttal (R).

Thus Jesus was crucified (D) and is therefore to be regarded as Rome's political enemy (C) because Romans reserved this kind of death for political enemies, especially those in Palestine who threatened riot at religious festivals (W) - unless, for some reason, an exception was made in this case (R).

Harvey makes a key statement (his italics): "Unless we did tacitly assume some kinds of warrants in any given field, it would be impossible to submit any argument in that field to rational assessment because the data to which we appeal when challenged
depend on just those warrants we are prepared to accept".

He presents enough material to show that his thinking is entirely mainstream in terms of history as a discipline. It's perfectly possible to have sound judgment in history provided it's main tenets are not flouted.

Gagging on the truth
The root of the matter is that the last few centuries have produced a radically new ethic of intellectual judgment in historical matters. Much theology of the 20th century has attempted to remove the Christian faith from the scorching flame of reasoned enquiry, and none more so than that of Karl Barth and those who followed after him.

The core of the conflict has centred around the Bible, the source of whatever historical warrants we may have for our assertion that Christianity is an "historical" religion.

Perhaps Harvey's example will illustrate. He records how a defense of the historicity of Jesus' resurrection by a certain Heinz Zarnt examines all the biblical evidence using good historical method - and then goes on to maintain that this evidence, because it comes from the Bible, is not the same sort of evidence we normally deal with!

Thus, says Harvey, his "…argument has been so constructed that the lack of positive evidence as well as the admitted contradictions and absurdities count for its validity".

It's hardly surprising therefore that a widespread suspicion of Christian scholarship is directed at an unwillingness to go the whole hog - to subject anything and anyone to the same kind of searching criticism which applies to historians.

It is not simply a paucity of good evidence to back up Christian calls to follow Jesus, but an extreme lack of that tough-minded approach which accompanies critical questioning and which demands and searches for adequate warrants and verification.

The old ethic of traditionalism, which tried to enlist a feeble form of history to help the faith of the fathers to limp into the 20th century, thought of belief as a virtue, and doubt as sinful.

The historical ethic requires faithful pursuit of historical fact, with a sceptical eye on method and extreme caution about bias.

What about the baby?
This book explores many other aspects of historical discipline and the new ethic of truth. History is, in Harvey's view, a "field-encompassing field" because it can and does draw from any and every field of evidence in order to test its conclusions.

Now that it has done with tradition, is anything left - or has the baby gone out with the bath water?

Not so says Harvey. What has been done away with are the over-stretched attempts to save revelation, in essence an attempt to preserve for Christians a sort of special access to truth.

What remains is still powerful, what Harvey calls a "perspectival Jesus" who does not require miracle or resurrection to convey ultimate meaning to our lives and to draw our commitment to him as a 
special person.

It is enough that Jesus is revealed through a perspective which retains above all a tight, indissoluble link between his teachings and his actions, of which his crucifixion is a final and decisive element. It's thanks to the new ethic of history that we know this.

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