Review of On the Resurrection, vol. 1: Evidences
(avg. read time: 28–57 mins.)
My largest volume reviewed to date is now:
Gary Habermas, On the Resurrection, vol. 1: Evidences (Brentwood, TN: B&H Academic, 2024).
This is the first of what is planned to be four volumes, and this particular one focuses on evidences and introductory matters. In some respects, this reiterates what Habermas has said elsewhere, even if the wording is not the same and some material is expanded. If you have read Habermas’s material in the past, you should already have a good idea of whether or not you want to buy this volume, as it represents a culmination of work that Habermas has engaged in for decades. If you have not, I will not delay in saying that I generally recommend this as a reference volume, although there are caveats that come with that recommendation. This review is going to be closer to the length of the one I wrote for Dale Allison’s latest volume on resurrection, even though the verdict on recommendation will ultimately be different.
Before I get into the details of the work, I want to make a few more general comments. This appears to be designed more as a reference work than one in which each chapter builds upon the previous one. Of course, there are times when Habermas will refer the reader to another chapter for more detail, but it is not necessarily the case that if one skips over certain chapters that one will miss a key step in the argument. I will give some examples as we go. But it also manifests in how certain claims and quotes are repeated, sometimes ad nauseum, which would seem best explained by Habermas not expecting some readers to go through every chapter, although it is possible that he forgot how many times he repeated certain quotes.
This is obviously a well-researched volume, and I would recommend it as a research tool if nothing else. The footnotes are numerous and often quite extensive. Multiple pages that are quite large in size have fewer than three lines of main text with the rest being footnotes, with 372, 401, and 527 having two lines of main text, 373 having one line of main text, and 375 as well as 608–9 having zero lines of main text. Several others have three to five lines of main text. Habermas has clearly read a lot, he wants to cite a lot, and he wants to say a lot about the things that he cites that would interrupt the flow of the main text. But this book shares with Allison’s book the problem of a lack of bibliography. I only say that this is a problem because both volumes contain so many references. Maybe there is a plan for this to be similar to Craig Keener’s Acts commentary in that the last volume of that work contained all the bibliographical and indexical information. This volume has indexes, but no bibliography. I would not say that this should tip the scale on the decision to buy this volume, but the reader should be aware of this issue.
It should also be stated at the outset, as Habermas himself notes (1), that one should not mistake even this multi-volume work, which is said to be over 5,000 pages when all is said and done, as being truly exhaustive. There are issues he does not address, even within the scope of outlining evidence, and there are works he does not incorporate or respond to (including the work of yours truly, or the more recent work of those like David Graieg). There is simply too much for any one person or one resource to handle. My planned seven-volume series on resurrection in the NT (which I have provided only previews of) will also not be exhaustive, if it ever comes to be. This book and Habermas’s whole multi-volume series will likely be crucial to include in your collection on this subject, but there will always be more to read for readers and more to do for writers.
A final general comment concerns the approach. Readers who know Habermas will surely know him for his “minimal facts method” in expounding evidence for the resurrection of Jesus. For better or worse, he continues pursuing that method here, although he mentions other historical facts that are not so “minimal,” and he does address the details of the Gospel texts, even arguing in favor of their historical reliability in multiple chapters. While his minimal facts approach remains the focus, readers who have had a problem with that approach may find some degree of relief that he goes beyond it. (I have not addressed this previously, but I am not entirely against the minimal facts approach, despite my problems with it, and I think some version of it can be used well enough, provided that it is not used as an endpoint in itself. Evan Minton has articulated a view similar to mine quite well here.)
Now let us get into the details. Chapters 1 through 3 of this first volume cover the philosophy of history, historiography, and historical postmodernism. As such, the reader will find similar ground covered as in Michael Licona’s published dissertation on Jesus’s resurrection. I prefer that volume to this one when it comes to addressing these issues, but there is plenty of good supplementary material here. I also preferred the approach of that volume in addressing the matters of defining miracles and their accessibility to the historian straightaway, rather than in this book where it is delayed to ch. 7, being placed in between a chapter on the existence of Jesus and a chapter on the reports of Jesus being a healer.
With that said, his discussions are helpful in terms of defining what is meant by “history” (so that it includes “the actual events themselves and the records of these events, which usually includes factors such as the scholar’s interpretations” [16]), recognizing the importance of various contexts for interpreting events, outlining tools of historiography, and enumerating the criteria of authenticity (44–53). On this last point, I do wish he had referenced the work of my friend Kevin Burr on the use of such criteria in historiography more generally. But at the least, he supplies clear explication of the sort of criteria he will appeal to throughout this book to argue for historicity of various items. It is also not a complete analysis, as there is nothing about similarity or double similarity, although he does discuss double dissimilarity. Moreover, there is no discussion of the criterion of rejection and execution, which is surprising, given that the first minimal fact he explores is Jesus’s crucifixion. I also consider it unfortunate that he operates on the assumption of the predominant view of the Synoptic Puzzle by counting as five independent sources often recognized in the Gospel accounts as being Mark, Q, M material unique to Matthew, L material unique to Luke, and John (46). Of course, I have written on this matter elsewhere.
Chapter 4 then explains his minimal facts approach. In this approach, the focus is on building a case for the historicity of the resurrection of Jesus by appeal to a certain baseline of facts that meet two criteria: “Each of these events must be established by an abundance of strong evidence, usually multiple critically ascertained, independent lines of historical argumentation. In addition, the vast majority of published contemporary scholars with credentials in relevant fields of study have to acknowledge the historicity of the event” (91–92). By “vast majority” in these cases, he is referring to what is granted by “a 90-something percentile head count” (94). He insists that the minimal facts approach has an advantage over other approaches to arguing for the historicity of Jesus’s resurrection, “even if the New Testament texts are thought to be unreliable” (90; emphasis original). Indeed, he will reiterate this point later (103–5), including in a context when he is otherwise arguing for Gospel reliability in the resurrection narratives (858).
Here is where I need to unpack some of my issues with this approach. One, I get that the point is that the minimal facts argument is not strictly dependent on all the arguments about Gospel reliability. I also understand that there is rhetorical value in arguing for a conclusion while granting your opponent’s claims for the sake of the argument. The minimal facts approach can thus have potential for setting a floor for the analysis or, to use a different metaphor, serving as an appetizer for more to come in the case for the resurrection. But if it is all that one relies upon, and there is no turn in the argument towards the broader horizon, what has really been gained? You have a floor, but where is the rest of the structure? You have an appetizer, but where is the rest of the meal? Indeed, if one grants too much without ever making the turn in the argument, it will seem you have given up too much ground that will be difficult to go back to without seeming to be disingenuous to some extent if you should want to appeal to it when the argument has shifted.
Two, while the minimal facts can be a starting point, if we actually try to grant that the NT texts could be/are historically unreliable, what is the context we are left with? As Habermas himself has noted, “events need to be seen within a context to derive their full meaning” (17). It can be argued, and (obviously) I think rightly, that the resurrection of Jesus is the best explanation of the minimal facts in question, but what context do you give it then? The texts you have granted are unreliable? Do you then try to construct a different context that looks and sounds suspiciously like what Christians have said for nearly 2,000 years? Even if you could establish that Jesus’s return to life after a time of being dead happened or that this is the best explanation, where does that get you without the Gospel narratives that are not granted historicity by the same proportion of scholars as the minimal facts, since that is what the method is restricted to? Habermas himself notes the famous example of Pinchas Lapide as someone who believed that Jesus was raised from the dead by God (395), but he was never (at least as far as I know) a Christian who confessed Jesus as Lord. He thus provided a Jewish context for Jesus in which he is currently the Messiah of the Gentiles and may be the Messiah of Israel at his return. Maurice Casey, an agnostic who never became a Christian as far as I know, did not believe God raised Jesus from the dead, but he nevertheless thought that the evidence was by no means inconsistent with that conclusion. I have also argued elsewhere that a Muslim could be consistent with the Qur’an and claim that Allah raised Jesus from the dead, but to do so while remaining consistent with the Qur’an would require a different framework for understanding Jesus than what the NT supplies. Even to say Jesus rose from the dead requires a context, and there is more than one that is possible. To give that context requires going beyond the minimal facts. At least Habermas tacitly admits that much through his extension beyond the minimal facts in this volume.
Three, as should be unsurprising to anyone who has read enough of my writings, I think far too much weight is put on scholarly estimation for these minimal facts. Habermas insists that the first criterion is far more important (92, 102, 127), but I think he oversells the gap of significance. After all, multiple facts that Habermas reviews are as well-evidenced as the minimal facts, but what ultimately leads to their exclusion from the category is his survey of scholars. Conversely, I cannot clearly see any fact that meets the threshold percentage of scholarly affirmation being removed from consideration for not meeting a certain standard of evidence compared to the others. As it is, the second criterion, if followed consistently, both limits what evidence can be appealed to for a minimal fact and, more importantly, how the fact is stated. That is, the facts have to be described in such a way as to be consistent with what 90+% of scholars think.
Habermas also includes a footnote in which he defends using the second criterion at all. He thinks it allows certain benefits:
such as a certain amount of agreement when conversing about the current state of the research, where the best evidence lies, what practical or other results can be derived from these conclusions, and so on. A large percentage of scholarly agreement on the historical status of the key queries helps to further the discussion more quickly, often cutting through many potential roadblocks, although it neither decides nor settles the factual or truth questions. Many individuals simply do not have the time or inclination to study the research personally, so it can be helpful to obtain a sort of overview or “lay of the land,” realizing that credible scholars have done such research and arrived at these conclusions. Yet again, the facts themselves are not solved by scholarly head counts. (92–93 n. 7)
I do not know about you, but I do not find this compelling. Indeed, there are plenty of times when Habermas takes scholarly majority opinion for granted, and I think there are good reasons not to follow the path he goes. Moreover, I think these benefits are overstated. The current state of the research can be important for establishing the context of your work, but we already know it changes with time, as Habermas will go on to show examples of, and who is to say that current trends will continue so as not to make certain parts of this work outdated? As for where the best evidence lies, surely that is not simply determined by a massive head count of scholars, as the last sentence rightly indicates. Scholars can help as guides to the best evidence and understanding what it means, but surely it is because of the evidence and the reasoning that the scholars provide, not the survey of the field per se. As for practical and other results that can be derived from the conclusions, that depends on the quality of inferences, does it not? Again, I think he has overrated this part of his argument.
Four, in contrast, I think he has significantly understated the additional burden that comes with this approach. That additional burden is not only to get the evidence right, but also to ensure that the many, many scholars you are relying upon to support the verdict are being properly represented. Of course, he plans to focus on this burden in vol. 3 of this work through a long survey of the views of “a large number of” the approximately 4,500 sources in French, German, and English (101 n. 26). However, I am not so confident that he is up to the task of always accurately representing what scholars have said.
On the one hand, Habermas overblows quotes on some occasions. There are certain quotes from skeptical scholars that he repeats several times over apiece to describe the significance of something, even though what they say beyond those quotes is quite different from where he takes them for his argument. These include, but are not limited to, quotes from Bart Ehrman, Roy Hoover, and Michael Martin. Paul Barnett is another who I notice had one quote used many times over. There are probably others, but these are the ones I noticed the most often.
On the other hand, there are other cases where I do not think he has provided willful misrepresentation, but he has nevertheless misinterpreted and misrepresented his sources. As one example where he draws on what he claims is a majority of scholars, he cites the Master’s thesis of Joshua Pelletier on scholarly views of the authorship of Mark. This thesis surveyed 207 scholars who wrote from 1965 to 2019 on the Gospel of Mark. Initially, he describes this research as showing, “the views that the traditional author was Mark and that the apostle Peter was the chief source behind the author were very popular with a respectable number of these scholars” (109 n. 42). Okay, that is vague, but it could be considered a broadly accurate albeit imprecise presentation of the survey. However, he says much later about this same thesis, “More scholars than not favored the traditional authorship of John Mark. More specifically, almost exactly 80 percent also favored Peter being Mark’s primary historical source or as having some other sort of influence on the writing of the Gospel” (552 n. 8). None of these claims is an accurate representation of the survey according to videos Pelletier did with Michael Licona (see here and here). If you lump together various categories of people who think it is possible, probable, or most likely that the traditional authorship is correct (or something like it, if one includes a Mark who is not John Mark), that is 80 out of the surveyed 207, with 47 who said nothing on the matter, 59 others who denied traditional authorship in any sense, and apparently 21 that they did not account for in one of the videos. Even by the most generous estimate in the other video, you cannot find “almost exactly 80 percent” who favored Peter as being involved with this Gospel, since they count 95 out of 207 who say this. Most of the rest simply do not say anything on the matter, as they only count 43 being against Peter’s involvement. He does not make the same error of calculation later, but he repeats the erroneous assertions about majority opinion on 563 and 778.
On a more individual level, he cites E. P. Sanders imprecisely, not so much in terms of misquoting him, but in giving too broad of page references, leaving the reader to go find what Sanders said where. For example, he cites a variety of short quotes, which he simply says are from pages 277–80 (136 n. 25). One of these short quotes cuts off too soon. As he says, Sanders concludes on 280, “That Jesus’ followers (and later Paul) had resurrection experiences is, in my judgment, a fact.” That is where the quote cuts off in Habermas’s book, but that is not the end of the point, as Sanders says in the next sentence, “What the reality was that gave rise to the experiences I do not know.” Why not include that in the quote when Habermas has quoted other points from Sanders that repeated earlier claims (136)? Similarly, Lydia McGrew has presented issues with Habermas’s use of C. H. Dodd. There will still be other cases of lacking attention to details of what scholars say that I will note as the occasion arises.
Five, I am not at all convinced that this is simply the best way to proceed in debates or discussions more generally. I am not saying that there are not certain contexts in which a version of this approach might be effective, but its wieldiness is overrated, especially when it is supposed to be contrasted to less minimal approaches. Minton makes this point well in the aforementioned post I linked.
Six, the minimal facts approach operates on a confused notion of what makes for a stronger case. Habermas never addresses the maximal data approach directly, but in contrasting his approach with general reliability arguments, he insists that his approach is far superior as a species of research “that majors in providing evidence in minute studies. It supplies a stronger and tighter case that emphasizes producing a variety of factual angles all arguing for fewer historical events, as well as attracting the recognition and agreement of the vast majority of critical scholars. Such near unanimity testifies to the powerful foundation behind this historical framework. It is also superior in answering more sophisticated objections” (128). The point of this is about pursuing more specific evidence, which is not really a contrast with the maximal data approach, but it is unclear how a case is stronger when it restricts itself to a smaller base of evidence than it could rightly appeal to. In the approach of this very book, he will only extensively engage with the details of the Gospel accounts when he moves beyond the minimal facts. For the purposes of the minimal facts, he only appeals to them more generally. Also, as an example of the minimal facts method, I would hardly say this book provides a “tighter” case in the sense of a more tightly focused one without any loose threads, as there are numerous elements that are not strictly necessary or parts that are arguably overly elaborate. Perhaps he meant something more like “more solid,” but I am not sure that can be convincingly argued for the minimal facts approach either when compared to a more maximal approach.
Having said all of that, there is a bright spot in this chapter to note. I am at least grateful that he directed his readers to resources on NT reliability (some of which I have read and would likewise recommend) on 109–10 n. 43 and 110–11 nn. 45–46. This is one of those ways in which this book can be helpful as a reference resource.
Chapter 5 takes on the task of actually listing the facts that will be analyzed in the rest of the volume. He first quotes several scholars trying to determine established historical facts about Jesus, most of which are not directly relevant to the matter of Jesus’s resurrection. He then provides the full list of twelve “known or accepted” facts, by which he means those that are accepted as historical by the majority, before narrowing them down to the six “minimal” facts (146–49). We will list these as the chapters address them.
There are then 126 pages devoted to preliminary matters. Over half of this section is taken up by Chapter 6, which concerns the existence of Jesus and addresses the notion of Jesus mythicism (the idea that there was no historical Jesus at all). To say this is going after low-hanging fruit would be an understatement. The fruit has already fallen to the ground, and Habermas is kicking it around for seventy-two pages. He references some of the good books that have addressed the evidence for Jesus’s existence on 156 n. 3. The bulk of the chapter is then taken up with reviewing non-Christian sources. Some of them are about Jesus specifically, but others are more about the early Christians and Jesus is incidentally referenced.
This chapter will be quite familiar ground to those who have read long-form responses to Jesus mythicism before, but it may be a helpful resource for those who are not as accustomed to the recitation of sources and arguments. Still, there are some problems with how this whole case has been presented. One, concerning Josephus specifically, while I am inclined to agree with his and the majority position’s view that most of the famous Testimonium Flavianum is authentic, I think there was an oversight here. Habermas makes so much of what scholars say on this or that throughout the book, but his only reference to Louis Feldman, who he calls “the dean of Josephus scholars” (177), is to an unofficial tally of scholars who favor partial authenticity against those who reject it entirely, and that tally was from 2001 (177–78). Either Habermas has not done the research to know, or he has simply not made his readers aware, that Feldman changed his own view on this matter late in his life, so that he was claiming in 2012 that Eusebius of Caesarea was the author of the Testimonium (“On the Authenticity of the Testimonium Flavianum Attributed to Josephus,” in New Perspectives on Jewish-Christian Relations, 13–30). I do not think his argument is ultimately convincing (for one response, see here), but I am not sure why it is not addressed here. If you really want to open this door because you really think this chapter is necessary, you might as well walk through it.
Two, this is more minor, but I noticed an odd lack of attention to detail. When he goes through his synopsis of what the sources can tell us about Jesus, he cites the sources that attest to this or that information, and one of the sources he cites on multiple occasions is the Gospel of Judas. Yet, at no point in the survey of sources leading up to the synopsis did he ever discuss the Gospel of Judas. He only mentioned it in a footnote (203 n. 142), but never in the main text. If he was going to reference it as often as he does, he might as well have included a paragraph on it in the main text.
Three, the synopsis itself (212–18) is inflated so as to reach his summary statement that “many ancient extrabiblical sources present a surprisingly large amount of detail concerning both the life and death of Jesus as well as the nature of early Christianity” (218). Even though he admits about Gnostic sources, “Without question, these [Gnostic] writers were more influenced by the New Testament than the other sources in this chapter” (195), he nevertheless cites them frequently in the synopsis, sometimes when they are the only sources in this group that attest to this or that fact. This also applies to fragmentary works like the Acts of Pontius Pilate and the Gospel of Peter. Their inflationary role is especially evident in the sections on the death and resurrection of Jesus, where the sources who have no relation to Christianity have precious little to say. The inflation of the synopsis also comes from the sections on Christian teachings and worship and on the spread of Christianity with the attendant persecution. These are points only indirectly related to the matter of Jesus’s existence.
Four, in the end, I found myself wondering why this chapter was here. Is it really necessary for the purposes of this book, or is it just a way for Habermas to use more of the research that he conducted outside of the central scope of the book’s subject matter? He can suggest that it is necessary to defend this point as a prerequisite to defending the historicity of the resurrection of Jesus, but could one not just as well say that arguments for the existence of God would be necessary? And yet there is no chapter outlining those arguments.
Chapter 7 deals with miracles and defining the notion. And here I must admit a personal obstacle. My copy of the book was peculiar. Pages 213–220 were repeated, then the text resumed with page 237, after which 237–244 were also duplicated. So I had two copies of all these pages and zero copies of pages 221–236. I have reached out to other people, but I have yet to hear that anyone else had this problem. As such, my initial copy was missing almost all of the chapter reviewing other definitions of what constitutes a miracle. I have been put in contact with the publisher to address this problem, and I have been offered a replacement copy, but I have not yet received it.
As I have said before, I think this chapter should have been earlier in the book along with the matters on history. But I was obviously quite interested in it, given that this was part of one of my published articles. My own operative definition that I used was that miracles are events that exceed the productive capacities of nature, which are performed in a religiously significant context and attributed to the power of a deity (possibly operating through a mediator) to demonstrate that this deity is acting. The definition Habermas works with is as follows: “A miracle is a dynamic, specialized event that nature is incapable of producing on its own, that temporarily supersedes (or appears to supersede) the normally observed, known pattern of nature. Such an event would be brought about by the power of God or another supernatural agent for the express purpose of acting as a sign or pointer to verify or draw attention to a person or message” (238). I think this is an improvement on my own definition. As I noted previously, while the event for which I applied my definition would certainly be working at the center of the categorical set of what would be considered “religiously significant context,” that concept could certainly be considered too vague. As it is, I think it is better to focus on the “express purpose of acting as a sign or pointer to verify or draw attention to a person or message.” Indeed, Habermas provides a great defense of the different aspects of his definition.
Chapter 8 focuses on Jesus the healer. This is another chapter that I do not think was strictly necessary. But for what it is, particularly in the application of the criteria, it is a good review of the evidence. Furthermore, despite his caution about arguing from the general reliability of the Gospels, he turns to the matter of various aspects of historical reliability in the Gospels here (268–72) and again provides some helpful resources (268 n. 67, 269 n. 70). He even includes a section on contemporary miracle claims (273–78), which (as he notes) Craig Keener has addressed more extensively elsewhere.
However, even here not all is well. While he is reviewing what John Meier and Graham Twelftree wrote about Jesus’s miracles, because both of them have done quite extensive analyses of their historical evidence, Habermas does not properly represent Meier’s position. Here is how he quotes him:
Quite curiously once again, with the three instances where Jesus is recorded as having raised dead individuals, Meier judges that each one “enjoys remarkably strong multiple attestation in the sources: Mark, John, L, and Q.” This includes the well-known case of Lazarus, which “argues that even during his lifetime Jesus was thought of by his disciples to have raised the dead.” (263)
I was surprised to see this because I interacted with Meier’s work for my article on the raising of Lazarus. Meier does not think “each” raising miracle enjoys such strong support; he simply says that the larger tradition of Jesus bringing the dead back to life enjoys that support (A Marginal Jew 2:970). He is much more guarded in the verdicts he gives for each individual event. As for Lazarus, the statement Habermas gives is not what Meier says about the story of Lazarus. It is a statement about how the multiple attestation of sources and forms suggest this conclusion about the general activity of Jesus. I know from interacting with his work for my Lazarus article that Meier did not say that the story as John narrated it was historical (and so, for example, he does not think that Lazarus was dead for four days), but he did think that the event had some historical basis in Jesus’s ministry. Rather, Meier is one of the clearest advocates of what I called in my article “the Amplified Historical Core Hypothesis.”
Chapter 9 addresses Minimal Fact 1: Jesus died due to the effects of Roman crucifixion. This is one of the best attested facts about Jesus, being supported by widespread multiple attestation, early and eyewitness testimony, the criterion of dissimilarity, embarrassment, and enemy attestation. That would seem to be plenty to work with, but then Habermas has thirty-five pages on medical evidence as it relates to Jesus’s crucifixion. Again, this comes off as Habermas just wanting to include research that is not as pertinent, but which he has written about before. Still, I think aside from the application of the criteria, the highlight of this chapter is how Habermas addresses the matter of the spear thrust into Jesus’s side narrated in John, how it fits with other tendencies of reportage in the Gospels, and how it fits the ancient context of how crucified people were treated.
This chapter is then followed by Excursus 1 on Jesus’s death and what contemporary scholarship has said about it. While it is at least an excursus, and while I recognize the benefits it can have as a reference resource for people researching on the topic, the whole twenty-four-page exercise draws into question again just how much less significant the second criterion of what constitutes a minimal fact really is and why this whole matter of providing the lay of the land is worthwhile for the purposes of this particular project. Although he is not entirely beholden to scholarly majorities, this chapter shows his affinity for the majority when he takes the year 30 as the default for the date of Jesus’s crucifixion without addressing the arguments he has cited to the contrary simply because it is what the vast majority of scholars advocate (346–49). I have gone over the arguments for 30, for 33, and why I think they are both wrong here.
Chapter 10 addresses Minimal Fact 2: the disciples reported experiences that they thought were actually appearances of the risen Jesus. Unfortunately, as has been typical, only the fact that they declared having such experiences is analyzed in this context. If you doubted the power of the second criterion for a minimal fact, it keeps the appearances reported in the Gospels out of consideration in anything but a cursory fashion (most extensively on 408–9) when the sheer fact of having experiences is described as multiply attested (408–12). Much more space is given to 1 Cor 15:3–7, which may well be the earliest composed formal declaration of the content of Christian faith in the NT.
However, I should note, because I have also written an article on this, that Habermas is once again imprecise in representing NT scholars. Regularly throughout this chapter, as well as others, he refers to scholars as stating that 1 Cor 15:3–7 is the pre-Pauline creed. I do think that, except for the obvious statement about the present day in v. 6b about the state of the 500+, this is all part of the pre-Pauline tradition. But that is a minority position. Most scholars who write on this matter think that it is 15:3–5 that is the pre-Pauline creed/tradition. One would not get this impression when Habermas says the following:
Additionally connecting Paul to the original apostolic eyewitnesses is one of the chief arguments made throughout this chapter. Namely, the consensus view of critical scholars that Paul probably received the early creedal material (or at least the factual content of this tradition) in 1 Cor 15:3–7 directly from the Jerusalem apostles Peter and James when he stayed with them for fifteen days (Gal 1:18–20), as Paul narrates. (421; emphasis original)
but it is enough to report that the consensus view among New Testament scholars at present, across a wide spectrum of theological and other views, is that Paul probably received the 1 Cor 15:3–7 creed(s) (or at least the underlying facts themselves) from Peter and James, the brother of Jesus, when he visited Jerusalem in the mid-30s. (450; emphasis original)
But what changes the overall picture significantly is that, according to all critical commentators, the very earliest report that actually precedes any of the Gospels is the pre-Pauline creedal tradition in 1 Cor 15:3–7, where five appearances are listed—two to individuals and three more to groups, including one to at least 500 persons at once. (884)
Obviously, I do not object if he wishes to part company with the majority of scholars, but he should at least be clear about doing so when he has made such a big deal out of conveying what the scholarly consensus says, instead of giving a false impression of echoing what they say. He also gets repetitious in arguing for why it is early, which leads to the impression that the section focusing on 1 Cor 15:3–7 has been padded out.
Still, this chapter is strong in reviewing the data favoring the disciples saying they had these experiences (limited though the description of the same is in order to achieve the threshold of scholarly agreement). Habermas observes how the lines of evidence supporting the disciples having such experiences include early and eyewitness testimony, multiple attestation (of sources and forms), the criterion of embarrassment, the criterion of dissimilarity, the possibility of Aramaic wording/Semitisms applying in certain cases (including the appearance to Mary in John 20, even though this story was not treated in detail [417–18]), and enemy attestation. I think it is just too bad that this chapter was distorted by a focus on Paul without a balance of examining the Gospels in similar depth.
Chapter 11 addresses Minimal Fact 3: the teaching and proclamation of Jesus’s resurrection and the subsequent appearances took place very early after the disciples’ experiences. This chapter involves a survey of nine layers of data for “the earliest expression and attestation of the gospel message” (437). These nine layers are: 1) the earliest experiences of the risen Jesus; 2) the earliest gospel message; 3) pre-Pauline 1 creeds (“creedal traditions that were potentially already in existence within the time frame before Paul met Jesus on the road to Damascus” [446]); 4) Paul’s conversion; 5) Paul’s initial trip to Jerusalem; 6) Paul’s later trip to Jerusalem; 7) pre-Pauline 2 creeds (“oral creedal traditions, which originated and were most likely spread in preaching and teaching somewhere between Paul’s conversion and their being written down in one of the canonical epistles, most likely in Paul’s own works” [456]); 8) the early epistles minus the creeds; and 9) the Gospels and Acts. It should be remembered that most of these layers cover the first few years of Christian history. The sermon summaries for Acts potentially correlate with multiple layers here, as they show signs of being earlier than the larger book they are part of (relatedly, see here).
He repeats some points between here and Excursus 2, where he once again provides a “lay of the land,” this time concerning early creedal traditions. The most prominent repetition comes with the matter of detecting early high Christology (as I contributed to in my first article, but more generally see here). I will say that I found this excursus more interesting in discussing criteria for detecting creedal traditions and the reflections on the significance of these traditions. Overall, I think this whole portion is well presented and well argued.
Chapter 12 addresses Minimal Fact 4: these experiences accounted for the disciples’ lives becoming thoroughly transformed, even to the point of being willing to die for their belief. I understand the focus on martyrdom as the disciples giving the last full measure, but I do wish more had been done with the pervasive element of the perseverance of the suffering faithful as a theme across the NT and the many ways this could manifest leading up to martyrdom. But I think this is quite a strong chapter overall, even if it does inevitably impinge on the territory of the last two minimal facts. Naturally, he incorporates the research of Sean McDowell on the fates of the apostles at multiple points. He even invokes Bayesian approaches like Timothy and Lydia McGrew have used (538–42).
This chapter also features a crucial clarification about the significance of the martyrdom and willingness to die for the apostles, which was not about a commitment to a set of doctrines or about simply continuing in the way things had been before Jesus’s crucifixion. Rather,
the disciples were willing to give their lives, if necessary, specifically because of an experience: they were absolutely and sincerely convinced that they had seen the risen Jesus alive again after his death. According to the earliest records, their proclamation revolved around the language of sight. Their transformation was not primarily the result of accepting an ideology, like so many others who have changed views through the centuries, but their new outlook was expressly centered in personal experiences. They were profoundly persuaded that they had actually seen the resurrected Jesus. Such at least was their deepest belief and conviction….
But here is the chief difference: if they were correct that the risen Jesus had actually appeared to them, the disciples’ transformations would have been based on a genuine occurrence that produced actual results in the real world. In brief, if Jesus was actually raised and appeared to them, as they absolutely believed, that data impinging on them was the most likely cause of their transformation. (535–36)
Chapter 13 addresses Minimal Fact 5: James, the brother of Jesus and a skeptic before his conversion, most likely believed after he also thought that he saw the risen Jesus. Chapter 14 addresses Minimal Fact 6: Saul of Tarsus also became a Christian believer due to an experience that he also concluded was an appearance of the risen Jesus to him. I comment on these chapters together because I do not know that much needs to be said about them. They are argued well enough, even if I think some of the repetition could have been cut. The former chapter even features a helpful set of responses to rare contrary accounts suggesting that James could have been a follower of Jesus before the crucifixion (562–67). Probably the most helpful part of the latter chapter concerns the nature of the resurrection appearance to Paul and the comparison of Paul’s testimony to Acts, given how often these matters come up in scholarly statements on resurrection in the NT (579–87).
Chapter 15 begins the move to the rest of the twelve listed facts by first addressing the empty tomb. Of course, Habermas argues for the historicity of the empty tomb with more conviction than Allison did in his aforementioned volume. But I think Allison’s approach was better in terms of attempting to thoroughly outline arguments for and arguments against historicity before declaring why he found some of the arguments for historicity more convincing. For what it is, though, it certainly is a thorough presentation of arguments in favor of the empty tomb’s historicity. Appropriately, the strongest point is put first with the testimony of the women. I was also pleased to see him referencing the work of John Granger Cook on the language of resurrection (which I also explored, while building from Cook’s work, in this article), as well as the understanding of resurrection at the time (though I do not think this needed to be restricted to referring to the predominant Jewish understanding as such, see here for more on that subject). (Also see here for my dissertation and here for a grammatical overview and analysis of resurrection language in the NT.) I do wish that he had added to his arguments by appealing to James Ware’s observation (which I have referenced in the aforementioned articles on the language of resurrection and the pre-Pauline tradition in 1 Cor 15, as well as my dissertation) of how the empty tomb is only featured in narrative contexts, so that it is not present among creedal statements in the NT or afterwards, even when it is clear that the authors believe that Jesus’s tomb was/is empty. Most notably, Luke narrates the tomb being found unoccupied by Jesus’s body, but it is nowhere explicitly stated that Jesus’s tomb was empty in Acts. There are references to Jesus’s burial in Acts 2:29 and 13:30 in the context of reference to his resurrection, but the same applies to 1 Cor 15:3–4, where Paul references the burial, but some have still suggested that Paul did not know or did not care about the reports of Jesus’s tomb being found empty. There is as little reason to think that this assertion is true for Paul as there is for thinking that Luke suddenly changed his mind between volumes and stopped believing the tomb was/is empty when he wrote Acts.
Chapter 16 follows up on this by addressing Jesus’s burial. As far as I am concerned, this is one of the strongest chapters in the book. Habermas does well in arguing against alternative accounts where Jesus was either not buried or moved in between his burial on Friday and the discovery of the empty tomb on Sunday. He also does well with arguing positively for the traditional view as relayed in the Gospels (674–82). It is likewise refreshing to see him not be so taken with scholarly majority as to simply surrender on the front of Matthew’s story of the guard placed at the tomb (653–81). He actually argues for its historicity against the majority who make statements on the subject. It may well be the go-to resource I would recommend for such a case being made, particularly as he does well with articulating the reasons for many questioning, if not outright denying, its historicity before he make a good argument in favor of the story’s historicity.
Chapter 17 then addresses the last four in the list of twelve facts. The first fact is that the disciples were discouraged, bereaved, and despondent after Jesus’s crucifixion. The second fact is that the disciples’ reports, preaching, and teaching of these resurrection experiences took place in the city of Jerusalem, where Jesus was crucified and buried shortly before. The third fact is that the gatherings of the Christian community began at approximately this same time, featuring the first day of the week as a frequent time for worship. The fourth fact he addresses is that the gospel message centered on the message of the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ.
The reviews of the evidence of the first two facts are relatively brief, and there is not really a serious case against either. The review of the third fact contains a good section on the matter of referencing “after three days,” “the third day,” and the first day of the week (712–23), particularly since several explanations besides reference to the resurrection, the empty tomb, or the appearances have been posited as to the meaning of the reference to the three days/third day. As for the fourth matter, that is also something I have written about on occasion here and there, so I think his analysis is fine here, apart from how often he takes the existence of Q for granted. He is also correct to observe that this centrality is not simply about the number of times resurrection is referenced. It can also be conveyed by structural significance (both in terms of the structure of one’s thinking and the structure of a text’s presentation). For the Gospels in particular, it is important to remember that the Gospels are written from a perspective on the other side of Jesus’s resurrection, which provides the lens for understanding what came before (which John makes especially evident).
Chapter 18 then moves beyond the list of facts that have been the focus heretofore by zeroing in on the Gospels and the beginning of Acts. This chapter serves as an introduction by examining the general testimony of the Gospels. The first section after the introduction and the last section before the conclusion draw on arguments from N. T. Wright about the mutations of Christian resurrection belief because of Jesus’s resurrection and about the indications of how early the Gospel resurrection narratives are. In between, he examines the genre of the Gospels and possible models of traditioning that could explain on a practical level how eyewitness testimony was incorporated in the Gospels. The conclusion to this chapter is also particularly good at highlighting how the NT emphasizes subjects of eyewitness testimony, passing on tradition or trustworthy sayings, and the importance of testimony/witnessing for disciples. This is true more broadly, but it is especially clear in John, as one of the primary functions of disciples in John is to serve as witnesses to testify to the truth of who Jesus is and what he has done in unison with the Spirit, the Scriptures, and Jesus’s own deeds (on the larger motif, see 1:6–8, 14–15, 29–34; 3:26–30; 4:39–42; 5:33–35, 39, 45–47; 9:8–34; 12:17; 15:26–27; 16:7–11; 19:35; 20:17–18; 21:24). At the center of the disciple’s life and work is the one greater than the disciple, the one to whom the disciple must point (3:30). Through the act of testimony, disciples become participants in the truth to which they testify, that is, of everlasting life, revelatory light, and the fulfillment of Scripture. But disciples can only be witnesses if they have faith. The faith John references as the proper response to Jesus is more than cognitive assent; it is belief in truth enacted and embodied in allegiance (i.e., faithfulness as the supreme expression of faith).
Chapter 19 then addresses the resurrection and the ending of Mark. There is some decent material that is a much shorter version of Licona’s arguments in favor of the historicity of Jesus’s passion predictions (798–803), but that is drowned out by the rest of the chapter. Unsurprisingly and unfortunately, Habermas’s approach here is ruined by going along too easily with the majority of scholars, most of whom have simply repeated the arguments of Bruce Metzger about Mark’s ending. When he discusses the possibilities of how Mark ended, he numbers them as, “(1) Mark indeed ended his Gospel at 16:8, either purposely or not (for whatever reason), and he did not write any more. (2) Mark wrote beyond 16:8 and we have a good idea what he wrote. (3) Mark wrote beyond 16:8, though we do not know what he wrote beyond some possible guesses” (779). Mark 16:9–20 is not seriously entertained under option 2. He is quite clear that this text is not really worth the attention as Mark’s ending, given how often he refers to it as “pseudo-Mark” throughout the book. Indeed, he initially stated his rejection of the ending all the way back on 408 without elaboration. Later, he briefly quotes Luke Timothy Johnson as a substitute for his own argument in saying, “between just the long and short endings of Mark, Luke Timothy Johnson holds that the short ending is ‘far and away the best attested in the oldest and most reliable Greek manuscripts’” (700 n. 35). Then he finally addresses the text itself on 796–97. Even here, though, he spends most of the space talking about scholars who have defended its authenticity, saying of John Burgon’s defense back in the nineteenth century, “However, several of the arguments are a bit anachronistic, such as favoring the Byzantine text while criticizing Vaticanus and Sinaiticus” (796–97). About the text, besides what he thinks is its significance, this is all he has to say, “Depending on how the counts are made, there is some variation on the number of endings. But that is of little consequence in that they all lack manuscript attestation. Much of the contents may even be taken from the other Gospels, with the longer ending dating to perhaps the beginning of the second century” (796).
How disappointing. For all the detail he devotes to matters where you would think it would not be needed, he could not dedicate any detailed attention to this canonical text. His comments cover all-too-familiar ground that I have addressed on the ending of Mark here and here. There is no need to retread everything from two of my longer posts, but I feel like addressing these specific comments to some extent. The quote from Johnson that Mark ending at 16:8 rather than 16:20 is “far and away the best attested in the oldest and most reliable Greek manuscripts” is standard pablum substituting for engagement with the data. It is not “far and away the best attested” simply because it is the ending of Mark in exactly two Greek manuscripts composed before the year 1000. One would think “best attested” would mean the one with the most lines of evidence in its favor, but in terms of number of witnesses, types of witnesses (including beyond the Greek manuscripts), and geographical distribution of witnesses, this is not even remotely a contest, as vv. 9–20 are much better attested by all of these accounts. It is true that two fourth-century manuscripts from the same area do not include vv. 9–20, and those two happen to be the earliest extant texts of Mark that include the relevant portion of ch. 16, but there are witnesses earlier than these manuscripts that attest to its presence in Mark. After all, absence in fourth-century manuscripts could not tell you that a text was added in the second century. And while it is popular to talk about the “most reliable” manuscripts, such declarations tend to be made in circular fashion, and there are plenty of times that both of these manuscripts do not likely contain the original text. Besides, I thought Habermas was for not simply depending on arguments from “general reliability.”
Based on what I have noted already, it should thus be apparent that his description of this ending simply lacking manuscript attestation is laughable. How is that at all a fair description of a text that is attested in over 99% of all Greek manuscripts featuring the relevant portion of Mark and in similarly overwhelming majorities of manuscripts of other versions? And this is to say nothing of all the attestation among early Christian writers, including second-century authors. I have previously addressed the notion of much of the contents supposedly being taken from other Gospels, but I am also planning to return to that subject in more detail in a post I have scheduled for next year. I have just found it an amusing inversion of how Synoptic relations are often described when the same books are involved and it is typically thought that the other texts are borrowing from Mark as their source in every case besides Mark’s ending. It is also nonsensical to critique Burgon as being “anachronistic” on the basis of siding with Byzantine texts (though this ending is not limited to them) over Vaticanus and Sinaiticus. I honestly have a hard time even making sense of this claim of that idea being “anachronistic.” Whatever one thinks of the Majority Text or Byzantine-priority approaches, they are not anachronistic for reckoning with the entirely legitimate possibility that Byzantine texts may feature a more likely reading than Vaticanus or Sinaiticus. Even those who do not follow either of these approaches surely must admit that it is a possibility for the majority of texts to be correct when they disagree with Vaticanus, Sinaiticus, or both. There is no reason on the theoretical level that this should not be possible. Again, as Habermas should know given his problems with apologetics approaches that rely on “general reliability,” even if you say that these particular manuscripts are generally reliable, that does not mean their testimony in every specific instance is always correct. I thought it was supposed to be important to get specific and deal with specific evidence.
Chapter 20 then addresses the ending of Matthew. Here, he once again returns to addressing the story of the guard at the tomb (810–18). Some points are reiterated and some are expanded, so this section should be read in tandem with the one mentioned earlier on the same subject. I also think he does well in addressing the matter of the disciples’ doubt in Matt 28:17 and the possibilities of what could be happening here (818–20). The chapter is certainly stronger than the last one, but unfortunately he devotes most of the space of his section on the power of worldviews to the irrelevant Jesus Seminar. I wonder why he bothers, but it is all the stranger that he addressed them with this level of detail while gliding so blithely over matters like Mark 16:9–20 or other instances in which he could have and should have gone into more detail.
Chapter 21 addresses Luke, but not only the ending thereof. He first returns to Luke’s prologue and historiography, since this is a way to argue for his reliability as an author conveying testimony. There is a lack of attention to detail on the point that Matthew does not explicitly indicate that other women were present at the empty tomb (839), as the comment he mentions from 27:55–56 applies to those who were there for his crucifixion and burial. That does not mean there were no others, but he glides too quickly over this differentiation without addressing it properly, as has been the case with harmonizations we have addressed previously. Otherwise, this is a solid chapter, including a good section on the ascension (even if it is missing the reference to Mark).
Chapter 22 addresses the ending of John, as well as a couple of the issues about the Gospel narratives. I must say that this whole section on the Gospels shows a greater frequency of getting citations wrong, particularly in assigning the wrong chapter numbers to texts, than I noticed earlier in the book. That is not a huge problem because they are clearly incidental errors, and they are sometimes in proximity to the correct citations, but it is something I noticed, and it is something that should be corrected if there will be a second edition of this. Otherwise, this chapter as a whole is as good as the previous two, except for a couple of issues.
First, when I was first scanning through the book, I noticed one of the appendices cited as evidence for the fact of the centrality of the resurrection to early gospel proclamation a statistic that resurrection is mentioned in over 300 NT verses (1015). Naturally, I was curious about this because Jeremiah Johnston had used this same statistic but never provided a citation or a detailed tabulation to show it. The corresponding chapter in this book gave no such statistic, but I found it here in this chapter:
In the more than 300 verses in the New Testament on the grandest subject of all—the resurrection of Jesus—this theme is related to far more topics than matters of defending the faith and the gospel of salvation alone. Granted, apologetics and salvation are also central biblical concerns, and these are the two areas that are most popularly tied to the resurrection. However, these 300 biblical passages are also connected to most of the other major theological doctrines, as well as being related to many areas of Christian practice too. (881)
Unfortunately, as with Johnston, no source is given, and no detailed breakdown has been provided. I do not know how this figure is arrived at, whether it includes implicit links to resurrection, as I have noted throughout my studies on resurrection in the NT, or if, as Habermas implies, it is only texts specifically about Jesus’s resurrection that this tabulation applies to. If the latter is the case, then most of 1 Cor 15 cannot contribute to it, since most of it concerns the general resurrection. Of course, as I have said before, I am not a fan of statistics based on verses. I get that it is just one way of indicating how pervasive the theme is while not really capturing the whole scope of its significance. But if we are not given clear reason for thinking the statistic is accurate, why use it at all?
Second, there is a misstep in how Habermas addresses the claim that the tradition of appearances expanded in the telling, so that Mark features zero, Matthew features two, Luke features three or four, and John features four. Of course, this argument is only potentially coherent on the assumption of the inauthenticity of Mark’s ending, which I do not accept. At the same time, it is true, as Habermas observes, that the earliest tradition, that of 1 Cor 15:3–7, features more enumerated appearances than any of the Gospels (884). The misstep here is in his follow-up comment:
These five appearances in the early creed were not narrated, but that makes very little difference. After all, the Gospels consist of narrated accounts from the outset, since that is the very nature of biographies. But as Fuller notes, all of the earliest appearance reports were listed rather than being narrated, with the narrated versions being a later species of development due to their genre. Examples of the listed appearances include 1 Cor 15:3–7; Luke 24:34; and Mark 16:7 along with the “kerygmatic speeches of Acts” such as 2:32; 3:15; 10:40; and 13:30–31. First Corinthians 9:1 and 15:8 should be added here as well. These concise creedal texts actually predate the Gospel-narrated appearances.” (885; emphases original)
Readers may think it is the last line that is the misstep, but I think that is just Habermas speaking too loosely, as it seems that he meant the texts precede the narrations of the appearances, not the appearances as such. Rather, the misstep is trying to follow Reginald Fuller in saying that these reports were listed rather than narrated, since narration was somehow a later species of development. I have no idea why Habermas takes this notion for granted, unless, like Fuller, he is too text-centric in his imagination. Why would we think that these appearances were not narrated simply because the narrations do not appear in the written text? Are we supposed to think that the evangelists went around declaring lists of terse assertions, which were completely acceptable to those who heard them so that they never asked questions requiring elaboration and narration of the stories behind the assertions? Or why would we think that the witnesses themselves would never narrate their experiences? This is something one version of Allison properly reckoned with in his book. I am not sure why Habermas missed it.
Chapter 23 addresses Acts 1. There is not a lot to talk about with this chapter as far as I am concerned. I will say that he takes a different route to addressing the issues of interpreting texts about Jesus and the supposed timing of the end than I do (896–903). I agree with him on some of the texts, but not on the ones most frequently referenced from the Olivet Discourse (on which, see here, here, here, and here).
Chapter 24 then addresses noncanonical sources. Namely, he reviews texts from Clement of Rome, Ignatius, Polycarp, Quadratus, Aristides, Papias, the Epistle of Barnabas, and Justin Martyr. I have been working through these texts on this Substack as part of my ongoing series on resurrection in early Christian texts (also see here). But for his purposes, I am not sure that this chapter really adds much of significance, given how often these texts are clearly linked with the NT.
There is little else to comment on from the Conclusion, except that in many ways it is preparing for future volumes in this series, and that it opens the door to what I think was an appendix this volume did not need. I understand that Habermas has read a lot about near-death experiences (NDE), but I am not convinced that the long appendix on them was necessary or helpful here. It is good information for people who are interested in that matter, but for a volume on what is supposed to be evidences for the resurrection, I do not see the need for it. His attempts to justify the connection are ones that I find weak:
Evidential near-death experiences are considered as nonmiraculous indications of at least an initial afterlife, since such existence could be an extension, at least in some sense, of resurrection life. (4)
Thus, if the best NDE evidence argues strongly for at least a minimal notion of life after death, this could serve well as a bridge to another realm, making Jesus’s evidenced resurrection appearances even more likely. (952)
If there is an afterlife, then the truth and existence of such a metaphysical category raises the odds further, particularly in light of the many evidences like those presented in this volume that Jesus was, in fact, seen alive after his death. (958)
Unless a concrete link can be demonstrated between them—which, as far as I can tell, it cannot—NDEs and resurrection do not affect the probabilities of each other at all. NDEs can indicate what they indicate and not attest to the truth of Jesus’s resurrection, of the coming general resurrection, or of temporary resurrections across history at all. If there were no NDEs, it would not affect the probability of the resurrection events. If there had never been a resurrection, NDEs could still happen and be evidence for something not at all connected to resurrection.
However, as indicated in my article on the raising of Lazarus, I do agree with this key statement:
In fact, the historian can acknowledge that Jesus “was seen alive, bodily, afterward. A historian could, in theory, argue this point without appealing to divine causality—that is, without saying that God raised him from the dead.” Therefore, the line that the historian cannot cross is that seeing Jesus “alive, bodily, afterward” was something that happened because God worked a miracle in time and space. Apart from knowing that these events involved God’s miraculous intervention, then, this potential scenario of Jesus dying by crucifixion and then being seen alive and bodily afterward may be affirmed by historians. (pp. 956–57; emphases original)
Overall, as I said at the start, I recommend this volume. It is a helpful reference resource, albeit limited by the lack of a bibliography, but time will tell if that is going to be part of the final volume. It is a culmination and consolidation of works written by the most prominent writer on resurrection in his time. The book is at its best when Habermas is not simply relying on scholarly majority, as well as when he is willing to challenge it. I think his assembling of the lines of evidence and his use of the historical criteria are particularly helpful guides for his readers. I also think he is helpful to his readers in identifying at least some of the layers of significance for what he writes about concerning resurrection in the NT.
Still, I have my caveats to that recommendation. First, when I initially heard how long this work on resurrection was going to be when all is said and done, my concern was that there was going to be some significant amount of material that was going to be fluff, repetitious, or unnecessarily elaborate while being of little interest to any but a small portion of this book’s audience. Unfortunately, that fear has been realized as soon as the first volume. I think the overall quality of this volume is diluted not merely by problem areas I have identified—some of which do not occupy significant space in this book—but also by the amount of unnecessary material. Multiple chapters, including the longest appendix, could have been excised without adversely affecting this book.
Second, in this same vein, I think there have been some missed judgment calls as to what to leave in and what to leave out in terms of detail. For a book that is over 1,000 pages, it is surprising at times where it lacks in detail, most notably when it comes to dealing with a canonical text. It is overall a thorough book, but it is unfortunate that there are times when it is too thorough and times when it is not nearly thorough enough.
Third, more significantly, I find it concerning that there have been a number of times I could easily identify that he is not representing scholars accurately. It makes me wonder how the third volume is going to turn out. Maybe he will be more careful in that volume, but thus far I have not found him the most dependable witness in attending to the details of what scholars he references are actually saying and conveying this clearly and accurately to his audience. There have been plenty of cases where I know he is representing statements correctly, but there have been enough cases where I know he has misrepresented them that it makes me wonder about others that I do not know as well or have not checked. As a reference resource, it is better for the amount of research he has done than it is as a shortcut for processing what scholars have said.