Weighing the Past: Historical Method, Hermeneutics, and the Quest for Jesus

J. Neil Daniels

Nota Bene: A "Deep Dive" audio overview is available here: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1N2MDk5gGa74m3DO5gFNg4a2hPJRH8zp-/view?usp=drivesdk

Introduction: The Historian as Judge and Juror

Historical inquiry is often likened to a courtroom. Evidence is presented, arguments are made, and verdicts are rendered—though with one crucial difference. Unlike jurors, historians are not bound to their first conclusions. They may and often must revisit them as new evidence emerges or old evidence is reconsidered. Robert B. Stewart opens his essay Judging What They Say about Jesus with this analogy, drawn from his own upbringing as a “judge’s kid.” His father’s relentless demand for coherence and plausibility in every explanation becomes a metaphor for the historian’s vocation: sifting competing accounts of the past, testing them against evidence, and rendering judgments that are humble, provisional, but reasoned.¹

The stakes in historical Jesus studies are especially high, for they touch not only on academic reconstructions but on the central claims of Christian faith. Yet the question is not merely what happened, but how we know—or think we know—what happened. Stewart’s essay serves as both a methodological primer and a cautionary tale, urging historians to approach the past with intellectual rigor, epistemological humility, and methodological self-awareness. This essay explores and assesses his major arguments, situating them within broader historiographical and theological debates, and considers their implications for the study of Christian origins.

I. Understanding Hypotheses and Practicing Charity

The first rule of historical assessment, Stewart insists, is deceptively simple: understand the hypothesis. Too often critics attack strawmen of their own making, failing to grasp what a theory actually proposes before refuting it.² Misunderstanding leads not only to poor scholarship but to distorted historiography, where arguments are dismissed not because they fail but because they are misrepresented.

Closely tied to this is the principle of charity, drawn from philosophy but essential to history. Stewart quotes Julian Baggini and Peter Fosl: we should “maximize the soundness of others’ arguments and truth of their claims by rendering them in the strongest way reasonable.”³ Charity is not naïveté; it is an ethical and intellectual discipline. By confronting the best version of a position, the historian ensures that any critique, if successful, refutes not a caricature but the core of the argument. This principle also has a hermeneutical dimension: historians should focus on what is meant, not merely on what is said. It reminds us that even flawed arguments may contain truths worth salvaging.

This approach is particularly urgent in debates over early Christology. Skeptics often dismiss high Christological claims in the Synoptics by attributing them to later ecclesial development, while defenders of traditional views may caricature critical scholarship as reductionist or faithless. A charitable reading seeks first to understand the historical question on its own terms: what precisely does a given hypothesis claim about Jesus’ identity, and how does it interpret the evidence?

II. Evidence, Interpretation, and the Historian’s Worldview

Stewart draws a vital distinction between evidence and interpretation. The Bible, he reminds his students, is not the same as their interpretation of it—and likewise, historical evidence is not synonymous with the conclusions drawn from it.⁴ The historian’s task is to handle evidence with humility, aware that one’s own conclusions may be mistaken and subject to revision.

This humility is compounded by the historian’s worldview, which inevitably shapes interpretation. A naturalist historian will be predisposed to seek non-supernatural explanations for miracle claims; a determinist may minimize human agency in explaining events.⁵ Yet worldviews, while influential, are not deterministic. Stewart notes that scholars such as Bart Ehrman and Michael Bird have radically altered their worldviews over time, demonstrating that critical reflection can transcend initial presuppositions.⁶

Here Stewart introduces a helpful distinction, drawn from N. T. Wright, between History-E (the actual events of the past) and History-W (the written accounts of those events).⁷ Modern historians have access only to History-W, mediated through ancient texts shaped by selection, perspective, and interpretation. Yet the fact that historical writing is interpretive does not mean it is arbitrary. The laws of noncontradiction still apply: either Jesus was buried after his crucifixion, or he was not. Historical truth exists, even if our access to it is mediated and partial.

III. Certainty, Commitment, and Historical Knowledge

One of Stewart’s most memorable sections addresses the relationship between certainty and commitment. He recounts a conversation with a student struggling with faith because he lacked 100 percent certainty about Christianity’s truth. Stewart responded with a simple analogy: marriage requires total commitment, yet one cannot be absolutely certain one’s spouse will remain faithful.⁸

The point is profound. Historical knowledge—indeed, most human knowledge—is rarely certain. Yet we regularly make existential commitments on the basis of strong but non-absolute evidence. Stewart rejects the popular maxim that “extraordinary claims require extraordinary evidence.” Beliefs require sufficient evidence, not evidence of a particular quality arbitrarily labeled “extraordinary.”⁹ Historical inquiry operates in this realm: we seek explanations that are warranted, not infallible.

IV. Defeaters: Undercutting and Rebutting

A central concept in Stewart’s framework is that of “defeaters,” reasons to revise or abandon a belief. He distinguishes between undercutting defeaters, which undermine confidence in a belief without disproving it, and rebutting defeaters, which present evidence directly contradicting a belief.¹⁰ Most historical defeaters are undercutting: new cultural insights, alternative textual interpretations, or novel theories that prompt reevaluation but do not conclusively overturn prior conclusions.

Importantly, defeaters themselves can be defeated. Stewart illustrates this with a hypothetical involving “faeries” on a seminary lawn: an email about hallucinogenic gas would undercut belief in faeries, but prior knowledge of a Shakespearean troupe would undercut the defeater.¹¹ Historical inquiry thus unfolds dialectically, with hypotheses and defeaters in constant interplay.

V. The Logic of Abduction

Historical reasoning, Stewart argues, is primarily abductive. Coined by Charles Sanders Peirce, abduction seeks the most plausible explanation for the evidence, not deductive certainty or inductive probability.¹² Abductive conclusions are provisional and subject to revision as new evidence emerges.

Stewart enumerates widely used abductive criteria: simplicity, comprehensiveness, fit to the data, correlation with experience, coherence with established theories, fruitfulness, predictability, and consistency.¹³ Each offers a lens for evaluating competing hypotheses. For instance, a simple theory is preferable to a complex one, but not at the expense of comprehensiveness. A theory must fit the evidence rather than bending evidence to fit the theory. Correlation demands that explanations align with lived reality unless compelling reasons dictate otherwise. Coherence warns against discarding well-supported theories without strong justification.

These criteria are not mechanical tests but heuristic tools, applied ad hoc and often subconsciously. Their purpose is to sharpen historical judgment, enabling scholars to sift plausible explanations from implausible ones.

VI. Criteria of Authenticity: Use and Misuse

From abductive reasoning Stewart transitions to the criteria of authenticity, tools often employed in historical Jesus research to assess sayings and deeds attributed to him. The criterion of dissimilarity posits that sayings unlike both Jewish tradition and early Christian teaching likely originate with Jesus himself.¹⁴ While initially attractive, this criterion faces serious problems. Our knowledge of early Christianity is incomplete, and focusing solely on dissimilarity risks portraying Jesus as an isolated eccentric rather than a figure deeply rooted in his Jewish context. As Anthony Le Donne quipped, applying this criterion to Hitler would strip away his anti-Semitism and the consequences of World War II, leaving little of significance.¹⁵

The criterion of multiple attestation, which holds that events reported by multiple independent sources are more likely authentic, seems commonsensical. Yet debates over source independence complicate its use. Proponents of the two-source hypothesis may discount Matthew and Luke as independent witnesses if they rely on Mark, but this remains a contested assumption. Luke’s prologue, for instance, claims access to eyewitness testimony (Luke 1:1–4), and Matthew, if apostolic, may have drawn on firsthand knowledge.¹⁶ C. Stephen Evans cautions that the fact of distinct authorship is more certain than theories of literary dependence.¹⁷

Stewart’s larger point is that criteria should indicate authenticity, not function as exclusionary tests. To reject sayings merely because they fail dissimilarity or multiple attestation is to misuse the tools. Reginald Fuller’s sweeping elimination of sayings paralleling Jewish tradition or reflecting early church theology is a case in point.¹⁸ Dale Allison and others have likewise criticized the overreliance on such criteria, calling for their marginalization or abandonment.¹⁹

VII. Cumulative-Case Reasoning

Historical arguments, Stewart notes, are rarely deductive chains but cumulative-case arguments—ropes composed of many strands.²⁰ Some strands are essential, others supplementary, but together they bear the weight of the conclusion. Even if some strands fray, the overall case may hold.

This approach is especially relevant to the question of Jesus’ self-understanding. No single saying or deed conclusively proves his divine self-awareness. Yet taken cumulatively—his authority to forgive sins, reinterpret the Torah, reshape the Passover, and command demons—the evidence coheres into a compelling portrait of a man acting with the prerogatives of Israel’s God.²¹ Add to this his unique filial relationship to the Father (Matt. 11:27; Luke 10:22) and his eschatological role in judgment (Matt. 25:31–46), and the cumulative case grows stronger still.

VIII. Blind Alleys and Historiographical Pitfalls

Stewart devotes a significant portion of his essay to common mistakes in historical Jesus research. Chief among them is the appeal to “what most scholars believe.” Such appeals often amount to “what most scholars I have read believe” and, even when accurate, fail to settle the matter. Truth is not determined by majority vote, even among experts.²² While scholarly consensus deserves respect, it must be justified by argument and evidence.

A related error is judging hypotheses by who affirms them. While awareness of agendas is important, the truth of a claim does not depend on the identity or motives of its proponent.²³ Sometimes vested interest may even sharpen inquiry, as when personal stakes motivate a thorough search for truth.

Another pitfall is overreliance on cultural generalizations to override textual evidence. Historical context is indispensable, but it cannot dictate specific events. The claim that Jews “did not go through Samaria” cannot invalidate John 4’s narrative; Paul’s statement of singleness (1 Cor. 7:7–8) cannot be dismissed on the grounds that Pharisees “were always married.”²⁴

Stewart also warns against proof-texting and harmonization errors. Quoting texts out of context or forcing contradictory accounts into artificial harmony distorts evidence. Yet refusing to harmonize plausible differences is equally misguided.²⁵ A striking example is the scholarly habit of driving a wedge between John and the Synoptics. Differences in style and content are undeniable, but they do not require historians to choose one over the other.²⁶ Recent scholarship, including the John, Jesus, and History project, has reopened the question of John’s historical value, revealing greater potential for historical reliability than previously assumed.²⁷

The so-called “Johannine thunderbolt” (Matt. 11:27; Luke 10:22) further blurs simplistic distinctions. Its high Christology, akin to Johannine themes, is claimed to appear in the alleged Q material, suggesting that elevated Christological claims predate the Fourth Gospel.²⁸ C. S. Lewis captured this dynamic in his correspondence about Aslan: the same truth can be expressed in markedly different idioms.²⁹ So too, the Synoptics show Jesus’ divine identity through his actions, while John states it explicitly.

IX. Historical Judgment and the Burden of Proof

In legal contexts, the burden of proof lies with the party making a positive claim, and the standard of proof varies by context—“beyond a reasonable doubt” in criminal cases, “preponderance of the evidence” in civil ones. Historical inquiry has its own standard: a hypothesis must be more plausible than competing explanations.³⁰ It need not eliminate all doubt, nor refute every far-fetched alternative (such as the “Matrix” scenario), but it must make sense of the evidence in a way that rivals cannot.

This standard underscores why cumulative-case reasoning is so effective. No single argument may suffice, but the convergence of many independent lines of evidence can yield a conclusion that is, if not certain, then at least rationally compelling.

Conclusion: The Historian’s Task and the Theological Stakes

Stewart’s essay is more than a guide to historical method; it is a plea for intellectual virtue. Assessing historical arguments requires careful attention to hypotheses, a charitable reading of competing positions, rigorous distinction between evidence and interpretation, and awareness of one’s own worldview. It demands comfort with uncertainty and an understanding that knowledge is often provisional yet still trustworthy. It calls for discernment in applying tools like abductive reasoning and the criteria of authenticity, avoiding both naïve acceptance and hypercritical misuse. And it warns against the perennial temptations of consensus appeals, ad hominem judgments, cultural determinism, and misapplied harmonization.

At its heart, Stewart’s vision of historical inquiry is deeply humane. It acknowledges the historian’s fallibility and the interpretive character of all historical work, yet it affirms the reality of historical truth and the possibility of knowing it with confidence. This approach is especially crucial in historical Jesus research, where methodological errors have too often fueled skepticism or dogmatism. When employed with care, the historian’s tools can illuminate rather than obscure, clarify rather than distort.

The quest for Jesus is not merely an antiquarian exercise; it is an exploration of claims that have shaped civilizations and transformed lives. Stewart reminds us that the task is neither hopeless nor straightforward, but it is noble—and worth the effort. History may not yield certainty, but it can yield knowledge sufficient to ground faith, challenge presuppositions, and deepen understanding. In this way, the historian, like the juror, serves the cause of truth—not as an arbiter of final verdicts, but as a faithful steward of the past.

Endnotes

Robert B. Stewart, “Judging What They Say about Jesus: Instructions for Assessing Historical Arguments,” in When Did Jesus Become God? ed. Bart D. Ehrman, Michael F. Bird, and Robert B. Stewart (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2022), 1.
Ibid., 3.
Julian Baggini and Peter S. Fosl, The Philosopher’s Toolkit (Malden, MA: Wiley-Blackwell, 2010), 115.
Stewart, “Judging What They Say,” 4.
Ibid., 6.
Ibid., 7.
N. T. Wright, The New Testament and the People of God, vol. 1 of Christian Origins and the Question of God (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1992), 85.
Stewart, “Judging What They Say,” 9.
Ibid., 10.
Ibid., 10–12.
Ibid., 11–12.
C. S. Peirce, Philosophical Writings of Peirce, ed. Justus Buchler (New York: Dover, 1955), 150–217.
Stewart, “Judging What They Say,” 13–17.
Ibid., 20–21.
Anthony Le Donne, Brown Bag Lecture, New Orleans Baptist Theological Seminary, Spring 2014.
Stewart, “Judging What They Say,” 21–22.
C. Stephen Evans, The Historical Christ and the Jesus of Faith (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1996), 331.
R. H. Fuller, The Foundations of New Testament Christology (London: Lutterworth, 1965), 18.
Dale C. Allison Jr., “How to Marginalize the Criteria of Authenticity,” in The Handbook for the Study of the Historical Jesus, ed. Tom Holmén and Stanley E. Porter (Leiden: Brill, 2010), 1:3–30; Chris Keith and Anthony Le Donne, eds., Jesus, Criteria, and the Demise of Authenticity (New York: T&T Clark, 2012).
Stewart, “Judging What They Say,” 25–26.
Ibid., 32–33.
Ibid., 27.
Ibid., 27–28.
Ibid., 28.
Ibid., 29.
Ibid., 30.
Paul N. Anderson, Felix Just, and Tom Thatcher, eds., John, Jesus, and History, 3 vols. (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2007–2016).
Stewart, “Judging What They Say,” 31.
C. S. Lewis, Letters to Children, ed. Lyle W. Dorsett and Marjorie Lamp Mead (New York: Collier, 1985), 32.
Stewart, “Judging What They Say,” 25.