A Note on the Peculiar Context
It is common to argue over the historicity of Jesus by calling upon analogies with other historical questions. However, this is fraught with peril. Most analogies break down due to the unusual nature of early Christian history. First, there is the general incongruity between ancient and modern societies, which I discuss in " Why I Don’t Buy the Resurrection Story " and " Kooks and Quacks of the Roman Empire: A Look into the World of the Gospels." But more important than that is the peculiarity of Christian history itself. From very early on Christianity was wracked with bitter ideological disputes and competing sects with conflicting claims. Even the letters of Paul are full of references to his opponents and the desperate struggles he had with them to maintain control of his own congregations. Yet the sect that “won” this internecine propaganda war achieved victory by political rather than epistemic means.
Every Patristic historian remarks on how regularly the surviving (“orthodox”) literature of the second and third centuries slanders opponents with exaggerated or even false charges, how they employed shunning and other acts of social intimidation rather than open debate, and how routinely complaints are heard of forged texts and other tools of deception in the ranks. Numerous extant orthodox works have been proven to be forgeries, and even many canonical texts are universally agreed to be dubious. There is also an endless record of persistent ideological doctoring of the canonical texts from the earliest dates (see Bart Ehrman’s The Orthodox Corruption of Scripture: The Effect of Early Christological Controversies on the Text of the New Testament, 1993, and the works cited there; also, my essay " The Formation of the New Testament Canon "). Though the New Testament in its entirety is a rather small book by ancient standards, it contains over a thousand passages that have so many early variants we cannot confidently identify the original reading (there are 19 such passages in 1 Timothy alone, a letter only 134 verses long, meaning 14% of the letter is to some extent uncertain; see my " Two Examples of Faulty Bible Scholarship "). Many of these conflicting readings cannot be explained as mere scribal errors, but are ideological in nature.
*To make matters worse, when the Church finally acquired absolute political power under the Constantines, opponents were compelled by force to fall in line. The sect that gained the emperor’s ear did not win this trophy through convincing him by sound evidence and argument in an open and equal debate with opponents, but by mere luck: they just happened to be the ones in his entourage. As the threat of death, prison, or dispossession was used to eliminate opponents, “disapproved” texts were collected and burned, or simply never copied and thus left to disintegrate, never to be read again. And thus, though we know there were radically variant sects even in Paul’s day, we have not a single text from them. Instead, the vast bulk of surviving material is solely what was approved by the victorious “orthodoxy,” who did not win because of their greater adherence to the truth, but their more effective and fortunate politics.
Devout Christians have the most reason to be alarmed at this: a church that engages in murder, slander, deceit, compulsion, and intimidation could not plausibly be inspired by the Holy Spirit. Like Jesus himself, true Christians did not write down their beliefs to argue or prove them, but simply had faith, accepting their deaths without a fight. Thus, if there is any true Holy Spirit, it was more likely inspiring the first believers, none of whose literature survives, and those souls who turned the other cheek to the “orthodoxy’s” bullying and machinations rather than fight back. And so true Christianity could well have died a silent death. But even if you turn aside from that awful possibility, you are faced with the original problem: Christian literature, and history, holds almost no analogy with any other literature or history we could care to name. From Homer to Tacitus, there is by comparison virtually no such background or context of ideological conflict affecting the texts–affecting not only the doctoring or editing of their content, but their very selection and preservation. Christianity’s own history, and above all the nature of Jesus, was the very target of contention here. I cannot think of any comparable problem in ancient history that is as seriously challenged by such biasing of the source material.*
Yet the “victorious” sect happened to be historicist. Since that was an accident of their tactics and good fortune, we cannot be entirely confident that the orthodoxy, much less the surviving source material, reflects the truth about Jesus. This is all the more troubling since we know the orthodox sect was credulously eager to latch onto any piece of nonsense that supported their historicist position. Prominent examples include the obvious fantasies inserted into the Gospel narrative by Matthew, the wild legends believed and repeated by the early 2nd century Christian Papias, and Eusebius’ belief and reliance upon a forged letter of Jesus himself. More troubling, though more debatable, examples include Luke’s “importation” of historical details into the basic combination of Mark and Q so as to make a hagiography look like a history (see my " Luke and Josephus"), and John’s probable invention of the Doubting Thomas tale (not mentioned by anyone else, least of all Matthew, who was clearly prone to recording the fabulous, or (Ps.-) Peter, and Paul, who had several occasions to call upon the story, e.g. 2 Pet. 1:16-19; 1 Cor. 15:5-7, 35-58).
All this does not entail that the historicist sect was wrong and that Jesus didn’t exist. But it does throw a wrench into any argument that draws on analogies with other historical questions which were not subject from the start to this unusually intense and persistent ideological conflict and behavior. Historians are in a worse position regarding early Christian history than any comparable (and comparably preserved) institutional history (such as the origins of the major schools of philosophy), and the most suspect elements are, by an unfortunate coincidence, the very ones a historicist needs to settle his case.