This is one of the most disappointing books I’ve ever read.
It’s not that it’s on the top ten list of WORST books. It is not shockingly terrible. It is merely quite bad. The reason why it is so disappointing is that I genuinely expected so much better. It’s a bit like C.S. Lewis’s Mere Christianity—to read a book that is merely okay-ish, when it has been praised to the high heavens by everyone and their godfather for years, is a tremendous letdown. This time I had somewhat lower expectations, but the book was also much worse, so the differential impression was similar.
Gary Habermas has, for some reason, a high reputation as an apologist and, I thought, scholar. Now, since he is a Christian apologist and I am an atheist, it was obvious from the outset that I would not agree with some of his conclusions. But, I figured, being Christian does not mean that you cannot be intelligent and honest. Sometimes, alas, I despair that maybe being an apologist is incompatible with both those things together (though, in fairness, while Mere Christianity was a similarly Great Disappointment, I did not come away thinking that Lewis was lying). I went in thinking I might learn something, I might face some tough questions, I would probably not have my mind changed but perhaps my perspective challenged.
And what a letdown it was.
First, the title is misleading bordering on the deceptive. While a little space near the end of the book is granted to providing a portrait that (other problems aside) does indeed fit into a book called The Historical Jesus, the book as a whole is not about that at all. It could perhaps have been called Miscellaneous Rebuttals to (Mostly Outdated) Critiques of the Resurrection Myth; it would have been more honest and I would not have bothered to pick it up. Perhaps Mr. Habermas needed the royalties.
If it were a book about Jesus from a historical perspective, you might expect some introduction to his historical milieu, but you will not find it in this book. The Sadducees and Pharisees are mentioned once or twice; the Essenes a few times, mostly to say that Jesus probably wasn’t one but if he was then so what—no sense is provided of who they were, what they believed, or what this meant. (Maybe because the dominant role of the Sadducees in 1st century politics ill comports with the inflated role of Pharisees in gospel disputes?) Jewish apocalypticism is, as far as I can tell, not even mentioned. Other messianic movements—apocalyptic movements and teachings—none of this gets any mention at all! Even if Habermas rejects the common historical view that situates Jesus in these terms, an honest overview of the historical Jesus would have to discuss them. But of course The Historical Jesus is not about the historical Jesus, it’s a deceptively titled pile of apologia…
Curiously, in a book that obviously (necessarily—as even a book genuinely about the historical Jesus must) mentions the New Testament writings a very great deal, I do not recall seeing the words pseudepigraphon or pseudepigrapha even once. Paul is quoted passim, but nowhere, not once, does Habermas suggest that a historical perspective might potentially treat the epistles to Timothy in any way differently from 1 Thess, 1 Cor, or Philippians. His project, I suppose, does not concern itself with matters where such distinctions are relevant.
Second, I was quite surprised at how bad it was even in this regard—even in terms of what it really is as opposed to what the title promises. To be clear, most of the things that Habermas spends most of the book arguing against are not things I agree with in the first place (Jesus mythicism, swoon theory, 19th century naturalistic rationalisations of miracle stories, etc.). I think those can be refuted fairly and honestly. But I kept having to put the book down in sheer annoyance and frustration at how duplicitous he seemed in refuting points I already reject. If I were frustrated by his approach to things I agree with, I might suspect my own bias of showing. But here, he was attacking things that he and I would agree are errors, and getting it wrong every time.
There are four major problems with the book as written, setting aside the fact that it isn’t what it claims to be. Three of them are methodological.
One: Habermas is a great believer in transubstantiation. In particular, he likes to transubstantiate claims to different categories of claims. For example, on page twenty he might make an assertion, and by page twenty-five it has miraculously become a demonstration, for he will refer to it with “as we showed” or “as was demonstrated”. A similar magic applies to sources, because what is introduced as “a witness” will, a page or two later, be “a reliable witness”, with no mere secular evidence or argumentation (or indeed acknowledgement) necessary for the adjectival promotion.
Two: the above magic often branches out to other books. Habermas is very fond of pointing out how the New Testament is reliable, how that was demonstrated earlier, etc. etc., when in fact the first time this was brought up in a real way, he basically said that he wasn’t going to bother since he wrote another book about that. Maybe that book is worth reading (though my hopes obviously aren’t high), but it doesn’t add any value to this one.
Three: He often treats sources and witnesses in ways that are typically found only in riddles where someone is either TRUTHFUL or they are (perhaps Cretan and) A LIAR. Establishing that something interesting asserted by a source is true is taken tacitly as justification for treating the source as reliable, and “reliable” here seems to be a binary, not a contextual or graduated evaluation. It has been commonly pointed out, and I wish it would not be necessary yet again, but if a comic book gives accurate geographical, political, historical, or other information of New York, that demonstrates verisimilitude of setting—not the historical reality of the Amazing Spider-Man. (It works as a negative criterion—a book that gets the setting all wrong is clearly not reliable at all—but not much as a positive one, especially for remarkable claims.)
Four: The non-methodological objection is that this book is, by its own logic, entirely pointless. Either Mr. Habermas really needed the money or he just deeply wanted to murder some trees. For, you see, the book assumes again and again that the New Testament is reliable. If you do not accept that premise (which, as mentioned, the book doesn’t even attempt to establish, referring it to another book), none of its arguments hold up at all. But then, if the New Testament were reliable, what possible use would this book be? There is no conceivable need for a book that says “from these people quoting scripture in the 2nd century, we can know that X and Y happened [given that the scripture they quote is reliable]”. What is the point? If the New Testament were reliable, we could just read it to find out what happened.
Finally, I get a strong sense that Habermas is frankly deceptive. For instance, he seems to be quite enamoured with the famous mediæval hoax called the Shroud of Turin. He doesn’t stake his reputation or rest his whole case on it, but he is clearly quite enthused about it, waxes lyrical about the “strong evidence” that it is not a forgery, and speaks of the “historical trail” it left across Europe. Yet, very curiously, not to mention very conveniently, he fails to mention the very first mention of it in the historical record. Surely that is a crucial part of the historical trail! But it would not fit his pious narrative. Because, you see, the first mention of the Shroud is in a letter from Bishop Pierre d’Arcis to Pope Clement VII where he describes it and tells the pope that the artist who created the forgery had confessed. Would this not be a curious part of the “historical trail” to omit from an honest man? It seems so to me, and unless I suppose that Habermas is a fool or incompetently careless—which I do not—then I can only conclude that he is dishonest, and am left wondering what he carefully omits to mention about other historical records.'
Another commonly employed tactic of dubious honesty is of presenting a weak case and admitting its weaknesses…long after the fact, in a brief parenthetical aside, once the accumulation of arguments has had time to work on the reader. For instance, a collection of ‘extra-biblical’ sources are cited to impress the reader with how many sources even outside of the New Testament tell us this and that about Jesus. They are enumerated, and within the discussion of each source, each datum is enumerated. This goes on for page after page after page. Finally, in the summary section of the chapter, Habermas briefly admits that of course these aren’t really independent data at all since the authors not only wrote after the canonical gospels but were in fact demonstrably familiar with them, so that virtually everything they say may simply be repeating New Testament claims. But a susceptible reader, after five or ten or fifteen pages of claim after claim will perhaps not be able to shrug it all off as irrelevant, as they ought to, when cautioned in a brief sentence or two that this is not an independent source. Unless I wanted to do him the unjustified disservice of suggesting that Mr. Habermas is entirely naïve or a very poor writer, I must assume that this was done with rhetorical motivation; but then, it is hard to regard it as innocent. This sort of thing happens passim (mild, lame admissions that maybe the Shroud could be a forgery—even though he doesn’t deign to mention the historical evidence—are another example).
In summary, this is not an absolutely terrible book about the historical Jesus, for two reasons: One, it is not absolutely terrible—I rate it very poorly because I came in with high expectations, but if you set your expectations low enough, it will probably seem merely bad or perhaps even mediocre; and two, it is not actually a book about the historical Jesus, and some of the ways in which it disappoints have to do with how it utterly fails to live up to its title. If you’re terribly bored and your only choices are Ray Comfort, Gary Habermas, Mein Kampf, and Piers Anthony’s Firefly, I recommend this book nine times out of ten. If, on the other hand, you are not under duress, it is best left alone. I got it for free, and I feel cheated.