Was There No Historical Jesus?    Responses to Critiques of the Mythicist Case One: Bernard Muller (with contributions from Richard Carrier) Part One: Higher and Lower Worlds, Rulers of this Age, Descending Savior Myths, Kata Sarka

"What we have here is a failure of imagination."

This recent phrase from another context (the U.S. Senate's 9/11 hearings) sums up a key aspect of the opposition to the Jesus Myth case. There has been a lot of discussion lately in cyber circles about the lack of serious and professional rebuttal to the mythicist position. I think we can dismiss the common claim that this is due to the abysmal nature of the case to be made for the non-existence of an historical Jesus and the fact that all scholars and historians have studied the matter so thoroughly they can only conclude it is not worth the bother to rebut. An earlier website article (Challenging Doherty: Critiquing the Mythicist Case) demonstrated that if anything is "abysmal," it is the state of affairs within the ranks of mainstream New Testament scholarship, where there is a notable lack of proper understanding of the mythicist case and effective arguments to be brought against it.

And so, the challenge has been taken up by the non-professional scholar and informed 'amateur' on the Internet. There are many, apologists and liberals alike, who have become quite educated (meaning largely self-educated) in biblical research, collectively amassing an astonishing degree of sophisticated knowledge and proficiency in the field. I would cast aspersions in principle on none of it, and indeed count myself among the ranks. I enjoy the advantage of having published an influential book and having gotten in on the bottom floor (1996) with a groundbreaking website, but I have learned a lot from the Internet community over the years, and still do. It is impossible for one person to investigate and absorb all there is to know in this field, or to investigate all possible interpretations, and the presence of several discussion boards on the Internet where issues like the existence of Jesus are often minutely examined and argued, is invaluable.

Thus, challenges to The Jesus Puzzle—and support for it—have come largely from these ever-expanding circles. And because a comprehensive presentation of the counter-arguments to be drawn against those challenges will entail ideas that others have contributed or have enlarged upon in relation to my own, this series of responses will be, in some respects, a combined effort. That is, in the course of addressing the rebuttals to The Jesus Puzzle, I will bring in the comments of others, quoting and acknowledging those supporting sources.  Since "corroboration" of my claims, interpretations and translations is regularly demanded, usually with the implication that I stand in some deluded isolation in regard to them, I am only too happy to offer such support and, in some cases, to allow others to make arguments for me.

As most are no doubt aware, there have been no books by mainstream critical scholars in the last half century devoted to examining or debunking the position that no historical Jesus existed, and certainly not my own. However, several critiques of The Jesus Puzzle (book and website) have been posted on the Internet, not all of them by Christian apologists with confessional interests. One that has received a good deal of attention is that of Bernard Muller.

Bernard Muller is an amateur in the technical sense (as am I, though with a university background in ancient history and classical languages). He is not an apologist and has no confessional axe to grind, but his site offers an interpretation of the figure of Jesus which is purely historical. At the same time, he has undertaken an aggressive critique of my book, The Jesus Puzzle. His two-part critique is at:

http://www.geocities.com/b_d_muller/djp1.html  and  http://www.geocities.com/b_d_muller/djp2.html

I wish the quality of this critique were more professional, both in style and content. In general, it is poorly written, though that may be due in part to English not being his first language. But that's no excuse for the sophomoric rhetoric and a disorganized method of argumentation. Nor does his lack of knowledge and proficiency in ancient philosophy and the Greek language justify the naively confident, often supercilious tone. My focus, however, will be on the strength and legitimacy of his arguments against The Jesus Puzzle. To go back to my opening quote, Muller's biggest problem is a "failure of imagination," in that what he himself cannot conceive must not be; so much of what he argues is from the position of personal incredulity.

About a year ago, Richard Carrier of Columbia University and the Internet Infidels (see my comments on his review of The Jesus Puzzle elsewhere on this site, and which I will be referring to occasionally here), at someone's request, circulated an e-mail to a few people in which he provided a lengthy commentary on Bernard Muller's critique of my book. I will be quoting extensively from that commentary as part of my response to Muller, and also commenting on certain aspects of it. I will also be quoting from a few posters on the Internet Infidels discussion board (Biblical Criticism and History section) who have contributed pertinent criticisms of Muller's critique.

After some complimentary remarks on what he does agree with in regard to The Jesus Puzzle, Muller focuses on the points he will challenge. I will be quoting most of his text, but I will mark hiatuses, and the odd insertion of my own will be in italics in square brackets. (Muller's text, with his color scheme preserved, will be indented, while quotes from Richard Carrier and others will be in red, also indented.)

Higher and Lower Worlds

From my standpoint, there are many things I agree with Earl about early Christianity. Among them, heavenly "myths" (& others), imports from the Old Testament & Hellenism, the Platonic/Philoic [sic] influence, the progressive & dissimilar development of Christian beliefs and, above all, the non-existence of a historic Jesus. [I'm not sure what this means.] On these items, 'the Jesus Puzzle' makes good points, more so against a Jesus starting single-handily either a religion, sect or movement through his own preaching or/and deeds. No wonder Christian scholars, from conservative to liberal, are reluctant to engage Doherty!

This passage at the beginning of my Chapter 10 provides a broad background in ancient philosophy in regard to its views of the universe, particularly Platonism. When such a picture is presented on which scholarship is in general agreement, writers do not as a rule load it down with a lot of references, although I do provide a selection of these along the way, both in this passage and in the following material (not to mention in the Bibliography). Muller apparently regards these "three pages of convoluted rhetorical speculations" as pure fantasy, invented out of my own head. I will first let Richard Carrier comment:


That modern scholars take the layered universe of Middle Platonism as a given can be seen in many commentaries. John Dillon, in his The Middle Platonists (e.g., p.26) refers to several philosophers, from Xenocrates to Plutarch, as envisioning a division between the "superlunary and sublunary spheres" with different beings, forces and characteristics assigned to each—imperfect and evil ones associated with the latter, different grades of good and pure spiritual beings distributed up through the former. Many New Testament commentaries present the layered universe concept, those on Ephesians in particular. For example, C. L. Mitton (Ephesians, p.148), in discussing the reference to Christ ascending "above all the heavens" (4:10), defines the upper realm as a series of storeys one above the other, the abode of spiritual powers intermediate between man and God, with God's dwelling above them all. In Jewish piety, there were seven heavens, or eight depending on how one included God's own sphere; the whole idea was imprecise and variable, not unlike most ancient theories and myths.

The Theological Dictionary of the New Testament deals with these concepts regularly, as in Vol. I, p.165 under "aēr": "According to the ancient conception of the earth, the sphere of the air reaches to the moon, where the ethereal region of the stars commences. The Greek made a distinction between the impure element of air and the purer ether, thus finding in the former a place of abode for imperfect spirits..." Under "arxē" (rulers, authorities, in a spiritual sense [and mostly if not all evil]): "Their abode is now the epourania (Eph. 3:10), which is obviously the lowest of the different heavenly spheres (cf. 2 C. 12:2) from which skotos [the darkness] comes into this world (Eph. 6:12). The powers of the air, i.e., of the lowest heavenly sphere, have, somewhat schematically, separated God and man until the coming of Christ... [Vol. I, p.483]." Aristotle's discussion of the universe's structure in De Caelo, as mentioned above by Carrier, is referred to in TDNT Vol. III, p.872, under "kosmos": "The cosmos is for him a spherical body at the heart of which, surrounded by the spheres of the world and heaven, is the spherical earth, which Aristotle regards as unmoved."

The latter entry in the TDNT also makes other significant comments relevant to our purposes. "The story of the kosmos concept...ended, like that of Greek philosophy generally, in Alexandria. Here both the term and the concept were adopted by Judaism and brought into the Greek Bible...Both these achievements of intellectual history are represented by Philo...a sign [of] how significant the Greek concept was and how concerned [Philo] was to harmonise Jewish biblical faith and Greek philosophy in the understanding of the world and its relationship to God [p.877]." And [p.887]: "There are no distinctive NT cosmological conceptions. The NT shares all its views on the structure and external form of the world with the systems of the contemporary world. Hence it is possible to explain the details of NT cosmology only with the help of our knowledge of these systems. If it is asked, then, what is the cosmological or scientific content of various NT passages, the principle is no longer valid that Holy Scripture is its own interpreter."

In other words, the philosophy underlying Christianity was a product of its time. It did not exist in some splendid isolation, dependent on some theologically pure and timeless basis—especially one that will conveniently harmonize with our own modern outlook and preferences. (See my opening comments in Chapter 18 of The Jesus Puzzle, p.175.) I only wish commentators and critics would keep that in mind when questioning the links between Christian doctrine and ritual, and other religious expressions of the Hellenistic age. As the TDNT writer on kosmos says [p.887, n.70], there is an "indissoluble connection between religious proclamation and cosmological theory," and while referring specifically to Mithraism, he notes that the principle is "instructive" in regard to Christianity. The essential point in regard to my own work which I want to make here is this: in interpreting the concepts of early Christian theology, we risk missing the entire meaning if we don't take into account the cosmological ideas of the culture within which these writers moved, if we choose to reject any interpretation based on those concepts, simply because we don't like them or find them alien. Partly from ignorance of the subject, partly from standing at the very different cosmological vantage point of our modern era, Muller and others dismiss what to their minds seems outlandish. But this is what The Jesus Puzzle attempts to do, place early Christian thought, as expressed in the documents, within the cosmological setting of the period. The result is surprisingly fruitful, consistent, and anything but ad hoc. To claim that references such as "of David's seed" in Romans 1:3 or "born of woman" in Galatians 4:4 can only refer to human, earthly features, is to ignore that cosmological background which saturated turn-of-the-era thinking. It is truly "a failure of imagination."

The curious thing about Muller's dismissal of "some mythical upper world" is that he later goes on to discuss in great detail the Ascension of Isaiah, with its accounts of Christ descending through the various layers of the heavens and performing certain actions within them. This document is perhaps the best and most vivid example we have from that period of the very principle he is rejecting, and I will be addressing it later, in response to Muller's and Carrier's extensive discussion of it. And while he spends a few words on my Appendix 6 in The Jesus Puzzle, "The location of the myths of the Greek savior gods and of Christ" in which I argue for an upper world (rather than primordial past) interpretation of early Common Era mythology about the activities of savior figures found in several documents, he seems to have absorbed very little of it.

But to return to the essence of Muller's objection, his inability to conceive of certain features accorded to Christ by early Christians like Paul as referring to a non-earthly setting:


Muller's question "Why would the 'Messiah' Jesus be different?" is misdirected, because it is tied to his (and everyone else's) preconceptions. Priestly and scribal Judaism placed its myths (of the patriarchs, the Exodus, etc.) in supposed historical time, but Diaspora and Hellenistic Judaism, which is the milieu out of which Christianity arose, was far more attuned to Greek influence. One must first ask, what sort of "messiah" was envisioned by the earliest Christ cult, and once that is established (or theorized from the evidence), one then asks whether or how the features and passages under discussion might fit into such a picture. If spiritual beings populate the heavens, if "truer" primary forms of things in the material sphere are found in the spiritual one (the essence of Platonic philosophy), if figures and processes in the spirit world are the counterpart to those on earth, as in the relationship between the Righteous One in heaven and the righteous ones on earth in the Similitudes of Enoch (see especially chapter 51 and 53), then we have a basis on which to fit such features as "of David's stock" and "born of woman." (To which basis we can add the entire mythological ethos of the Hellenistic savior cults). I'll have more to say on this, but first, here is Carrier's reaction to Muller's comment:


Carrier is right, it would be nice. And I'm sure that if neither he nor I can produce a parallel to this specific sort of case, it may well not exist. But he is overlooking one thing. The uniqueness of Romans 1:3 (which so many people tend to fixate about) is almost certainly dependent on something which is not operative in any other venue, namely a reading of the Jewish scriptures. I will not repeat here my many arguments in many places for seeing this statement by Paul as something he has derived from those scriptures, informing us in the preceding verse that this is part of the "gospel of God about his Son" as found in the prophets. Paul (or perhaps some liturgical source he is drawing on) has "read" scripture within that conceptualization milieu Carrier speaks of, something not restricted to Christian thought. In doing so, he may well have gone where no man did before, since, as Muller quotes from TJP, Christ had to be "of David's stock" (Romans 1:3), for the spiritual Son was now equated with the Messiah, and the clear testimony in scripture that the Messiah would be a descendant of David could not be ignored or abandoned." (p.99). I sincerely hope that no one, including Carrier, will reject a priori a possible new idea by a given writer simply because it had never been thought or expressed by anyone else before him. (The same principle applies to the idea of a crucified Messiah.) Once again, Muller's question "How could a descendant of David not be considered an earthly human?" is misdirected and governed by his own outlook's limitations. Rather, one needs to ask, Why and on what basis might Paul have applied such a concept to his heavenly Christ? If there is a feasible answer to that, one that fits into the cosmological and philosophical conceptions of the time, then we have no need, or right, to reject it out of hand.

Moreover, Carrier himself is probably asking the wrong question. I don't think we should see Paul as "allegorizing" his Christ as an historical personage or as a spiritual descendant of an earthly man, any more than Philo was allegorizing his Heavenly Man as an earthly man. The Heavenly Man had his own existence and integrity as a spiritual entity. I don't know the full nature or extent of Paul's Platonic ground, how integrated into his thinking were those philosophical and cosmological conceptions. I don't know to what extent he might have comprehended how his heavenly Christ could have borne a relationship to David, spiritual or material. He could certainly be guilty of some convoluted deduction, and it often depended on his own examinations of scripture, as in Galatians 3:16 where he interprets God's promise to Abraham's "seed" as meaning Christ himself. In any case, we have evidence throughout the New Testament and non-canonical early writings that scripture was the source of all manner of ideas about Christ, that Christ was regarded as speaking from scripture, that scripture opened a window onto a spiritual, revealed world. (Hebrews, Revelation, 1 Clement and Barnabas contain good examples of this.) The mistake the modern mind makes, in trying to conceptualize this view of Christ in the heavenly world, is to over-literalize, which makes it harder for our minds to accept. I often get comments from readers about the difficulty they have in visualizing, let's say, Christ breaking heavenly bread with heavenly disciples at a heavenly table (as in 1 Cor. 11:23-6), or there being a whole chain of spiritual begettings from a heavenly David to the heavenly Jesus as his descendant. But writers like Plutarch show us that we don't need to take things quite so literally, or to impute a necessary literal conception of such things to Paul. In fact, the very stereotypical nature of the phrase "kata sarka" would indicate that for the early epistle writers it was the 'relationship' to the material sphere which was of primary importance in understanding the actions of Christ and their location in the lower reaches of the celestial sphere which were associated with the fleshly world. Paul shows no need or interest in trying to spell out those activities in any kind of literal manner, and when the writer of Colossians speaks in 2:15 of Christ on his cross "discarding the cosmic powers and authorities like a garment, making a public spectacle of them and leading them as captives in his triumphal procession," this is neither an earthly scene nor one intended to be taken literally even in the spiritual realm. When the writer of 1 Peter in 2:21-24 describes the example provided by the suffering Christ, he quotes no historical traditions but offers a selection of phrases from Isaiah 53. It is not necessary to think that he envisioned them as literal descriptions of the sacrifice Christ underwent, especially as they are meant to constitute directives for imitative behavior by his readers. 1 Clement, too, in chapter 16, recounts the tale of Christ's humility in suffering and death by quoting the whole of the same Suffering Servant song, but the author hardly regarded this as the equivalent of literal history. It was, in fact, an account by "the Holy Spirit" since it came out of scripture, and it was followed by an account by Christ himself in his own words in the form of passages from Psalm 22 (since they are phrased in the first person). None of these passages, openly scriptural, are ever equated with historical events as fulfillment of such 'prophecies' (they are never identified as such). Since scholarship does not rush to label these passages as intended literal descriptions by their writers, why do they think it necessary to do so in the case of Romans 1:3, which is equally clearly derived from scripture, if only because Paul so states it?

This is not the spot to rehash "kata sarka" though there will be occasion to do that later. But before going on to Muller's next section, I will comment on a general remark by Carrier in regard to Muller's understanding of the Platonic universe. He says: "However, it does seem Muller is confused about just what that view was...and if one sifts through his confusion, there is still a valid point [he] makes, with which I have always agreed: a lot of Doherty's evidence is compatible with both Doherty's thesis *and* certain forms of historicism, and that is why I remain agnostic." Carrier will enlarge on that subsequently, as will I, but here I will simply add a caution to this claim. Such compatibility cannot be presented in isolation; those forms of historicism must be compatible with all the evidence. I will try to show why Carrier's continued agnosticism is not as justified as he suggests.

Systems of Soteriology

Carrier (and Carrier's point here should have been clear even in the English translation):


Returning to Muller at the point left off above:
 

First, Carrier:


Well, to some extent, I'm going to have to disagree with both of them. Muller, first of all, has seized (as he so often does) on some individual word or phrase, derives some significance from it which he thinks undercuts or destroys my case, then runs with it without giving it any more careful consideration. The essential parts of the passage, from Romans 6:2-8 (adding verse 11 later), go like this, and I'll use the NASB translation:

"...How shall we who died [apethanomen, aorist (past)] to sin still live in it? Or do you not know that all of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus have been baptized [ebaptisthēmen, aorist] into his death? Therefore we have been buried [sunetaphēmen, aorist] with him through baptism into death, in order that as Christ was raised from the dead through the glory of the Father, so we too might walk [aorist subjunctive] in newness of life. For if we have become [gegonamen, perfect (past)] united with him in the likeness of his death, certainly we shall be [esometha, future] also in the likeness of his resurrection, knowing this, that our old self was crucified with him, that our body of sin might be done away with, that we should no longer be slaves to sin....Now if we have died [apethanomen, aorist] with Christ, we believe that we shall also live [sudzēsomen, future] with him."

If Muller's analysis were correct, we should expect to find that all of the parallel images Paul is drawing would be expressed in a past tense. Those relating to death and burial are. Paul's thought is that believers who have undergone baptism have, in homologic fashion, also undergone a death and burial. This mystic parallelism is the basic way ancient sacramentalism functions (about which I will say more shortly), and is found throughout much of the relevant literature of the period. But if when referring to resurrection, Paul were merely speaking of an already-achieved symbolic effect, something in consequence of baptism, as Muller alleges, there would have been no reason not to phrase those references in the past tense as well; in fact, it is difficult to see why he would have phrased them in the future if that was the extent of his meaning. Now, he admittedly muddles things a bit by linking the raising of Christ with his idea (in v. 4) of walking in newness of life, which is related to the present. He repeats a similar idea in verse 11: "So you also must consider yourselves dead to sin and alive to God in Christ Jesus." But there is no impediment to seeing Paul's complex of parallels as entailing both present and future consequences. In fact, at the conclusion of the whole passage (6:22-23), things seem to fall into place: "But now that you have been set free from sin and have become slaves of God, the return you get is sanctification and its end [outcome, result], eternal life. For the wages of sin is death, but the free gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord." Here, the "sanctification" is immediate, with the future result being "eternal life," something Paul would hardly speak of as already having been achieved in the present lives of believers (and for other reasons I will outline presently).

That future element is unmistakable in verse 8, "But if we have died with Christ, we believe that we shall also live with him." That this is something that hasn't happened yet is indicated by the idea of "belief." Note that no thought of this necessity for belief is expressed in regard to the parallel "death" with Christ. That, and the burial, are stated as a given; they have already taken place. Here in verse 8, the believer must have faith that the "living" with Christ will take place—at some time in the future—and is no doubt a reference to resurrection. But we also need to go beyond this one passage and determine whether Muller's declaration of what Paul means in 6:5 squares with his general outlook on resurrection and the "when" of its location—in other words, to avoid "interpreting out of context," which is the very thing he has accused me of doing.

First, let me say that I don't know what Carrier is referring to by "evidence from many letters that Paul often talks this way, allegorizing current realities in the language of future death and resurrection." For one thing, Paul never speaks of the death of believers in association with Christ in any future sense. Certainly in the Romans 6 passage under discussion the "death" as a consequence of baptism is entirely a past development, even if it is a continuing state. It is something the initiate has undergone already. If Carrier has a different context in mind (I don't know offhand what it would be), it would be irrelevant to this discussion. I'm not sure in what way his "Paul is talking about abstract sociological realities in the here and now" (or quite what this means) differs from the "exact heavenly parallels" to these which he suggests I am talking about. As far as I can see, the death and resurrection of the believer is and will be, for Paul, a spiritual/mystical consequence of their linkage with Christ and his corresponding experiences. That the "death" is not literal but only symbolic, while the resurrection will be more literal, to a new existence in a spiritual body and kingdom, should not matter. Both are the benefits to be enjoyed by the baptized initiate and it makes sense to link them together.

But how does Paul express himself in general about the resurrection of believers, and is it compatible with Muller's claims? Let's bring in some scholarly commentary on the Romans passage to guide us (another "context" which Muller seems to have neglected to consult). Here is what C. K. Barrett has to say (The Epistle to the Romans, p.116), with my own comments in square brackets:

"Baptism implies such a total commitment to Christ that it carries with it this double union with him, in death and in resurrection. Of the second clause, Paul writes only 'We shall be of his resurrection also'. The whole framework of the preceding clause [as Carrier has pointed out] must be repeated: Through the likeness of his resurrection (the other aspect of baptism) we shall be joined with his resurrection; that is, we shall be raised with him. Paul breaks the parallelism by using the future. This might be a purely 'logical' future, as in the proposition: If A is true than B will follow. But this would not agree with the undoubtedly temporal future of v. 8 [and elsewhere]. In fact, Paul is always cautious of expression which might suggest that the Christian has already reached his goal [emphasis mine], and to say in so many words 'We have died with Christ and we have been raised with Christ' would be to invite if not actually to commit the error condemned in 2 Tim ii.18."

Paul W. Meyer, in Harper's Bible Commentary, is another who recognizes the future character of Paul's idea of resurrection (p.1147), as does C.E.B. Cranfield in the new International Critical Commentary (Romans, p.306).

That passage in 2 Timothy (2:18) is a condemnation of those "who have swerved from the truth by holding that the resurrection is past already." In fact, that seems to be the very position of Paul's rivals in Corinth to which he devotes so much attention in the early chapters of 1 Corinthians. In chapter 4, he openly condemns it through irony and sarcasm: "Already you are filled! Already you have become rich! Without us you have become kings! And would that you did reign, so that we might share the rule with you!" Elsewhere, Paul is unambiguous about his interpretation of the resurrection of believers: it is a future one. As in  Philippians 3:10-11: "that I may know him and the power of his resurrection, and may share his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, that if possible I may attain the resurrection from the dead"; and verse 21: "and from heaven we await a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ, who will change our lowly body to be like his glorious body..." In 1 Corinthians 15:22, Christ is the first to be resurrected, then in Christ "all shall be made alive [in the sense of revivifying]"—but "each in his own order: Christ the first fruits, then at his coming those who belong to Christ." As Barrett notes, Paul is ever anxious not to convey that the resurrection has already happened. Muller is confusing the "new life" lived in Christ as a consequence of baptism with the future resurrection which is consequent on Jesus' own resurrection; the former is immediate (and never uses the term "resurrection" to describe itself), while the latter— though available to the believer because he has undergone baptism—only comes into effect in the future.

Lest we have lost sight of it through this somewhat lengthy rebuttal, the purpose in Muller's objection to my interpretation of Romans 6:5 was to eradicate any possible "mythical" significance in what Paul is saying. In conjunction with that, he wants to eliminate my concept of the mechanism by which the parallelism of resurrection is effected. I have called it a "pattern of likeness" which produces a guarantee of the parallel effect of one upon the other. (Muller is wrong in stating that Paul uses the term "likeness" only in 6:5; it reappears in 8:3, where he says that God sent his Son in the "likeness"—same Greek word—of sinful flesh: apparently this is a significant part of the concept, inserted in a context where it seems peculiar and unnecessary. The same applies to a further usage when Paul quotes the hymn of Philippians 2:6-11 in which an as-yet unnamed deity descends in the "likeness" of humans to undergo death.) Incidentally, The Translator's New Testament seems alone in recognizing the element of "guarantee" in translating 15:20: "But in fact Christ has been raised from the dead. This is the guarantee that those who have died will be raised also." And it enlarges upon that in the Notes: "Firstfruits were thus also a first instalment, carrying the promise of more to come."

Muller would have done well to research this idea first, before rejecting it out of hand (no doubt a case of "personal incredulity"). One of the books that played an important role in shaping my thinking in these matters was John J. Collins' The Apocalyptic Imagination. There, the concept of parallel guarantee is laid out. Here he is discussing the Similitudes of Enoch, with its Son of Man figure in heaven who has a paradigmatic relationship with an 'elect' on earth. (It will also serve to enlarge on my earlier discussion about parallel entities between heaven and earth.) In this quotation from pages 149-150, I will pare down to the essence of the picture (emphases are mine):

"This close connection between the individual Son of Man and the community of the righteous has led some scholars to invoke the allegedly Hebrew conception of corporate personality....There is no room for doubt that the Similitudes present the "Son of Man" as an individual figure distinct from the community... As Sjoberg has remarked, he is not a man, at least not in the usual sense of the word, but is rather a heavenly being. A closer analogy is found with the patron deities of nations in Near Eastern mythology. These deities have a representative unity with their peoples, although they are definitely distinguished from them....We have argued above that the "one like a son of man" in Daniel 7 should be understood in this sense, as the heavenly counterpart of the faithful Jews. The Similitudes differ from Daniel insofar as the human community is not identified in national terms but as the "righteous" or the "chosen."....Yet the correspondence between "the Chosen One" and the community of the chosen is analogous to that between [the archangel] Michael and Israel or any other mythological counterpart of a group or nation.
    "There is a parallelism of action, or "structural homologue" [a phrase attributed to G. Theissen] between the earthly and heavenly counterparts. In Daniel "the son of man stands parallel to the (people of the) saints (of the Most High). His exaltation means their exaltation." [George Nickelsburg, in Resurrection, Immortality and Eternal Life, p.77.] Similarly in 1 Enoch the manifestation of the "Son of Man" figure entails the triumph of the righteous....The hiddenness of the Son of Man corresponds to the sufferings of the righteous community and the hidden character of their destiny. The structural homologue between the Son of Man and the community is thus complete. Although he does not share their suffering, the pattern of hiddenness and revelation is common to both....
    In short, The Son of Man is not a personification of the righteous community, but is conceived, in mythological fashion, as its heavenly Doppelgänger [double]. Now it is characteristic of mythological thinking that such a Doppelgänger is conceived to be more real and permanent than its earthly counterpart and prior to it in the order of being. (See M. Eliade, The Myth of the Eternal Return, 3-6.)"

While Collins does not use or call attention to the word "likeness" in this context, the meaning is patently there. Parallelism, when one element guarantees the other, cannot do other than function in a pattern of likeness, and the fact that Paul uses this very word in the context of a 'guarantee' in Romans 6:5 clearly illustrates this. What kind of principle lies behind this concept? As Collins points out in regard to the Similitudes, there is a parallel association between heavenly and earthly counterparts, the former (the Son of Man/The Righteous One/The Elect One—he is variously titled) bestowing exaltation on the earthly group linked with him; but he lacks the element of having suffered (as does the heavenly counterpart figure in Daniel and 4 Ezra). We need move only to Revelation to find that element added. There, the "Lamb" bears "the marks of slaughter upon him" (5:6). For that reason, he is worthy to break the seals on the scrolls (5:9), he is worthy to receive "all power and wealth, wisdom and might, honour and glory and praise" (5:12). And by that blood (sacrifice), he "purchased for God men of every tribe and language, people and nation....(who) shall reign upon the earth" (5:10). But that purchase was not universal, it is the exaltation of an elect. And there is no theory here of vicarious atonement. Rather, it is the raw parallelism that is operating between the Lamb and his elect. As he is exalted, those linked with him follow in his path.

That early concept of soteriology is embodied in the christological hymn of Philippians 2:6-11. There a divine being humbles himself, descends and takes on a "likeness" to humans (it is never stipulated that he actually became one, and no elements of an earthly career are offered), and undergoes death. Because of this (dio), he is exalted to heaven, given a name of power and receives obeisance from all in heaven and earth and the underworld. Suffering leads to, produces, exaltation. There is no hint of an atonement doctrine here, of a redeeming sacrifice. The implication that is present, however, is that this process is guaranteed for the believer, in parallel with the Jesus of the hymn. Otherwise, what would be the point for the community which fashioned this piece of liturgy?

The rationale behind this might seem curious. While the idea of unity with the god is shared with the mystery cults, and the dying and rising mytheme itself is widespread, is there a more specific reason why a sectarian group with a Jewish background or connection would envision a heavenly being achieving exaltation through the pathway of suffering and death? In the absence of an atonement dimension, why would that be necessary? What theological precedent would lie behind such a concept? It doesn't seem to parallel any conceptions of sacrifice; nothing is done as a scapegoat, or on behalf of, or because of past misconduct on anyone's part. Revelation 5:9 implies that the significant consequence of the Lamb's death was not expiation of sin, but the exaltation of certain people to the position of priests and rulers upon the earth. (The sole reference in 1:5 to the Lamb's blood "freeing us from our sins" is incidental, and may simply mark the necessity for forgiveness as a prerequisite for receiving the benefits of exaltation.) This, in fact, is the standard Jewish apocalyptic expectation of Israel's own exaltation. The implication is that the Lamb is a "paradigm" to Israel's destiny: We (the Jews) have suffered, even to the ultimate, in obedience to God (as the hymn's verse 8), but we are destined to be exalted to the highest position, with our enemies bowing their knee to us—just as the author of Daniel formulated it in his scene in heaven with the "one like a son of man" symbolizing the saints of Israel. In keeping with the ancient idea to see human events as having their counterpart in the world of the supernatural, a representative figure in the latter sphere had to have undergone this same destiny. He suffered and was exalted, just as the Jews have suffered and will be exalted. It was a simple matter for human need to create divine reality: as our heavenly champion has undergone this, we in turn are guaranteed to undergo it, in that pattern of likeness. The doorway to this privilege is a sacramental one, through baptism, though prior to Paulinism it would seem that the doorway could be entered only by an elect, which all sectarian groups consider themselves to be.

We might note another aspect to this picture. In those documents expressing Jewish apocalyptic, from Daniel, to 1 Enoch, to Revelation, one finds a reflection of the Jewish conviction: We have the only God, he must be intending great things for us, we have suffered and endured defeat and subjugation, ergo, this must be the avenue to the inevitable exaltation. As the sacrificed Paschal lamb was the avenue and guarantee of our deliverance from Egypt, so here (in Revelation) is the heavenly Lamb who has been slaughtered and emerged triumphant. In traditional Jewish thought, the Exodus was the great past paradigm for the future: in the same way will God deliver us. (No doubt the legend was created and perpetuated to fill this need: the wish-expectation required a past paradigm in order to guarantee the future parallel.) But this Exodus paradigm existed in a past that could be styled primordial, since while nominally historical it was essentially legendary (especially when we know now from archaeology and other research that it never happened). When full-blown apocalypticism came along, that primordial past was replaced by the heavenly realm: the new paradigm (the one like a son of man, the sacrificed Lamb) now existed in the upper world. Whether this was the direct effect of Platonism or simply a continguous development reflecting current trends of thinking, it parallels the thinking of the mystery cults and the placement of their myths and savior figures.

Paul (perhaps the first?) has added the element of vicarious atonement. That he is the first to do so may be implied by the statement of his gospel in 1 Corinthians 15:3. Once one realizes that he has received his gospel "from no man" but through revelation (Galatians 1:11-12), then his declaration that "Christ died for our sins" might be seen as his innovation, though there is always the possibility that he is claiming more than his due. He also declares that his gospel is supported by scripture, which probably means it was derived from it—"according to the scriptures" (which I have argued can entail such a meaning). Paul's soteriology thus contains a mix of elements; he has grafted a new skin onto an old body, producing problems for himself and headaches for modern interpreters and theologians. But at base it is still the "paradigmatic parallel" system based on unity with the savior god, the same principle that drives the Hellenistic mystery cults.

Myths of the Savior Gods

But I have left Mr. Muller cooling his heels a little too long. Let's return to his critique of The Jesus Puzzle. His next section I will deal with briefly: a lengthy quoting of myths from various mystery deities, Attis, Mithras and Osiris, which he claims are set on earth. Of course, he is right. Most of these gods go back far beyond the advent of Platonic views of the universe. Their myths were originally placed in a primordial, distant past, the "sacred past" of mythologists like Campbell and Eliade. Their terminology was earthly (caves, rivers, trees). Once the Platonic concept of higher and lower worlds took hold, with its idea of the primary, true counterparts of earthly things and processes being located in the spiritual realm there was a shift in thinking about those earlier myths. Unfortunately, we have very little writings to go on to indicate that shift, and those we do have are generally by philosophers; we can't be sure how the ordinary initiate to the cults came to understand their myths. But Plutarch (1st century CE) states the principle very clearly. Addressing his audience, Clea, in Isis and Osiris (ch.11/355B; Loeb edition, p.29), he cautions her: "You must not think that any of these tales actually happened in the manner in which they are related." They are allegories, and he goes on to so interpret them. Clear statements like this are not encountered (to my knowledge) again before the 4th century, and Muller makes much of my appeal to two 4th century writers, Sallustius and the emperor Julian, claiming that this is too late. But this ignores the fact that the evidence we do have indicates a continuous Middle to Neo-Platonic interpretation of these myths, from Plutarch to Julian. Since Plutarch is virtually contemporaneous with Paul (and Paul was certainly a sophisticated thinker, in tune with the ideas of his day), Muller's attempt to discredit an attribution to Paul of this type of interpretation of the Christ myth simply fails.

Here is what Carrier has to say:


Rulers of this Age

Next, Muller tackles 1 Corinthians 2:8, the reference by Paul to "the rulers of this age" who "crucified the Lord of Glory."


The fact that a word can be used in more than one sense nullifies any claim that it must always have the same meaning. "Archons" could refer to earthly authorities and it could refer to "evil spirits" as in Matthew 9:34 and elsewhere in the Gospels. Ignatius uses a phrase identical to Paul's with "ruler" in the singular: "tou arxontos tou aiōnos toutou" (of the ruler of this age, referring to Satan: Ephesians 17:1, and elsewhere). Bauer's Lexicon notes: "Many would also class the arxontes tou aiōnos toutou 1 Cor 2:6-8 in this category."

Muller fails to take into account a dominant idea of this period. From The Jesus Puzzle (p.101): "The term aiōn, age (or sometimes in the plural "ages") was in a religious and apocalyptic context a reference to the present age of the world, in the sense of all recorded history. The next, or "coming" age was the one after the Day of the Lord, when God's kingdom would be established. One of the governing ideas of the period was that the world to the present point had been under the control of the evil angels and spirit powers, and that the coming of the new age would see their long awaited overthrow. (For a discussion of the present and future "ages" of the world, see TDNT, Vol.1, p.204-207.)

Muller tries to argue that because the plural "rulers" as supposedly applied to spiritual beings can be found only in 1 Cor. 2:6 and 8 in Paul, it cannot be so interpreted, as all the other clearly spiritual ruler references are in the singular, and they imply there is "only one godly entity, likely Satan." Carrier remarks that


As for Muller's position that my main evidence comes from Ephesians and Colossians, and thus any appeal to Paul himself is nullified, this is a non-sequitur. As Carrier notes:


If Ephesians (3:10 and 6:12) can speak of the rulers and authorities in the heavens in no uncertain terms, this certainly casts its shadow back over 1 Corinthians 2:8. The pseudo-Paulines are precisely that because they continue on in the spirit of Paul. Muller can hardly claim the likelihood that a generation later, those writing in Paul's name have completely changed the meaning of his terminology. That Paul believed in demons is clear from 1 Corinthians 10:19-21, and he even allows that they are referred to as "gods" and "lords" (1 Cor. 8:4-6). In Ephesians 2:2 there is a direct echo of the terminology of 1 Corinthians 2:8: "...you formerly walked according to the (ways of) this age of the world, and according to the ruler of the authority of the air..." In regard to that passage, Clinton E. Arnold (Ephesians: Power and Magic, p.133) notes:

"Here in Eph 2:2,3 the influence of the flesh is coordinated with the influence of the 'authority of the air,' viz. the devil as head of a troop of spiritual forces. They conduct their operation in the present age. 'Flesh' does not function in this passage as an explanation or definition of what the author means by 'the authority of the air' or 'spirit.' The author is here describing two different kinds of 'powers,' one internal with respect to man and the other external, but both intent on exerting their dominion over man in this present age."

Muller notes the use of the identical phrase "archontōn tou aiōnos toutou" two verses preceding 1 Corinthians 2:8, suggesting that here it implies earthly rulers. I suggest it is quite the opposite. Paul says that "we speak of...not the wisdom of this age, nor of the rulers of this age who are passing away." In light of that usage of the term "age" discussed earlier, and the idea of the "passing away" of those who rule it, namely the evil spirits, Paul's reference is much more likely to be to spiritual figures. (The idea of earthly rulers as a whole "passing away" is a poorer fit.) When combined with Ephesians 3:10, in which pseudo-Paul refers to the hidden wisdom of God being revealed to the "rulers and authorities in the heavens," we have an almost perfect pairing. The rulers of 2:6-8 have also been in ignorance, and both passages speak of this wisdom of God as having been hidden "from the ages," a term associated with the ruling evil spirits. There comes a point when, even if nothing has been 'proved' in a mathematical sense (a very unrealistic requirement), one can no longer deny probabilities. As I note in The Jesus Puzzle (n. 46), a good number of scholars consider "rulers of this age" to be a reference to spiritual powers; one of those scholars (Paul Ellingworth) is of the opinion that they are in the majority (A Translator's Handbook for 1 Corinthians, p.46).

"Kata Sarka"


Once again, Muller makes the mistake of ignoring the principle that the same word or phrase can have more than one meaning and application, and of declaring that because it means one thing in one set of instances, it must mean it in all. He declares that "kata sarka" is "normally rendered" as "according to the flesh." True enough, but what does this mean? Translators tend to opt for that "normal" translation simply because in so many instances they don't know how to render it in a way that makes the meaning clearer. (When they do take a chance, they usually include the word "human" which is an arbitrary reading into the phrase of the concept of earthly incarnation.) Once again, Muller argues from a position of personal incredulity, as he cannot understand how this phrase can at times refer to the spiritual world, and particularly "in the sphere of the flesh." Carrier responds:


In regard to my rendering  "en sarki" also as "in the sphere of the flesh," Carrier remarks [returning to his commentary]:


It is not so much a case of downplaying. My purpose is to illustrate how these elements of the text can be consistent with the mythicist case, by showing that phrases involve sarx can be so interpreted, and demonstrating the peculiarity of the use and standard interpretation of this terminology. Carrier to some extent is contradicting himself here, since he has admitted that the standard translation is extremely bizarre as a way of speaking of incarnation on earth, but then implies that it can so easily mean a literal incarnation on earth that it is impossible to decide between them. He can't have it both ways, and I suggest that his remarks on the use of sarx indicate that one can and should decide in favor of my alternative—again, not out of surety (which we may never achieve), but on balance of probability.

Further to Muller's doubts about en sarki referring to another world, Carrier goes on:


I fully agree. And this would be an appropriate point to reiterate the situation on the "kata sarka" issue, and by that I am referring to that handful of phrases found throughout the epistles which opponents of the mythicist position always like to point to: references to Christ's "flesh" and "blood," his 'descent' from David or the patriarchs "according to the flesh," "born of woman" and a few others. Observe:
(1) As a body, these references never link Christ with an historical time, place or earthly identity.
(2) They are not present alongside other references which do provide such links or identification.
(3) In many cases, they would be peculiar ways of referring to an earthly life or person.
(4) This peculiar language and lack of clear historical references is a universal phenomenon, found throughout early Christian literature in many documents and many authors.
(5) Such references not only *can* be interpreted in a mythical, spiritual world context, they are very consistent when so interpreted.
This situation points strongly in the direction of the mythicist position. It fits the overall paradigm and the evidence, and thus it is not ad hoc to interpret such phrases accordingly. The same cannot be said of the denial position, such as that of Muller. Once again, I have to maintain that on balance of probability, the two positions are not equidistant from the center.

There is another consideration in regard to this language which has not so far been examined. There is no doubt (as some acknowledge) that the "kata sarka / (en) sarki" phraseology (along with other usages of sarx, as in Colossians 1:22 and 24) is very peculiar if it is being used to describe Jesus' life on earth—and exclusively. How, then, was such a strange convention established and how did it become so pervasive? From Paul to pseudo-Paul to Hebrews to 1 Peter to the Johannine epistles to the Pastorals, they all use the same terms. One might understand a single writer adopting such words out of his own idiosyncrasy to refer to Jesus' life or human descent, but how would it get passed on and retained by so many? Would it not have run up against resistance or simple lack of reception in the minds of those who would have preferred to be more direct, who would have had their own natural inclination to refer to Jesus' life in more clear and standard ways? Moreover, it is doubtful that the author of Hebrews enjoyed any influence from Pauline circles, and even the community of 1 Peter shows no direct dependence on Pauline thought. The Johannine writings betray their own isolation. What, then, were the channels of the spread of this dubious language? In the context of a movement based on an historical person, can we envision how the situation we find in these documents could have arisen? I cannot. What does make sense is that the movement developed in the context of belief in a mythological Christ according to the principles of Middle Platonism. A verbal convention would be needed, and could develop and spread throughout a diverse, amorphous movement, to refer to that dual activity, the two aspects of the relationship of the descending-ascending god to his environment. No adverse tendencies would mitigate against adopting such expressions.

We see it stated most plainly in 1 Peter 3:18: "He was put to death in the flesh (sarki) but made alive in the spirit (pneumati)." I have translated that to refer to "in the sphere of the flesh" and "in the sphere of the spirit," in those two parts of the Platonic universe. A god could not be seen to suffer in his pure spirit form, or in the upper realms of pure spirit, and so had to descend to levels associated with flesh where he took on (the likeness of) fleshly forms and could suffer and die (the concept found in Plutarch and Julian, and the Ascension of Isaiah). That this passage in 1 Peter is akin to a formulaic expression is indicated by its very brevity and stereotypic language. Try to envision the writer of this epistle (even if he isn't the apostle Peter) having an entire tradition in his mind of Jesus on earth, with all that that entailed in terms of teachings and activities, crucifixion on Calvary and resurrection from a nearby tomb, and then referring to that death and rising so austerely, devoid of all sense of historical circumstance. The circumstances he does refer to are purely mythological: Christ's visit (3:19) to the dead spirits (no mention of appearances to the living), and arriving at the right hand of God in heaven "after angels and authorities and powers had been subjected to him" (3:22, compare Col. 2:15).

That formulaic "flesh/spirit" dichotomy appears throughout the epistles. In the hymn of 1 Timothy 3:16, the "mystery of our religion" has the descending/ascending savior (not "God" as Muller would have it) manifested (a revelation word) en sarki, then vindicated/justified (i.e., exalted out of suffering) en pneumati. Once again, as in 1 Peter, all the references to this figure are mythological. He was "seen by angels" (no mention of humans), "proclaimed among nations" (no proclaiming by himself), and "believed in by the world" (an object of faith, not historical experience). The more famous hymn of Philippians 2:6-11 has the same flesh/spirit dichotomy (though it doesn't use the terms themselves), descending to the realm of flesh and taking on its "likeness," then ascending to the realm of spirit (heaven) to be exalted. In Romans 1:3/4 "kata sarka" and "kata pneuma" are set beside each other, the content of both being demonstrably derived from scripture, the former from messianic prophecy, the latter from Psalm 2:7-8.

Was this particular language convention confined to Christianity? Carrier (and others) are always encouraging (or challenging) me to find parallel usages in non-Christian literature. I admit I have yet to do so, but should this be considered unusual, or even a problem? It might very well be confined to Christian writings, but remember that we have no comparable body of writing for other religions. Plutarch prefers the terms "soul" and "body" when speaking of the two aspects of Osiris: as in chapter 54 when he speaks of the legend "that the soul of Osiris is everlasting and imperishable, but that his body Typhon oftentimes dismembers and causes to disappear..." Here, body must be a spiritual one, for (as Carrier points out) the repeated death and dismemberment places such activity in the mythological realm. We can regard it as the equivalent of the epistles' flesh, and it demonstrates that the idea of a god's body/flesh could be conceived of as undergoing spiritual experiences, including death and rising, in spiritual settings. That same chapter (54) also discusses the dichotomy between the imperishable and permanent, superior to destruction and change—where the soul of Osiris dwells—and the perceptible world of the corporeal, where things are subject to "disorder and disturbance," including the death of Osiris' "body"—which indicates that the world of the corporeal must encompass a spirit dimension. When we get to Julian (who also does not use "flesh" in the epistolary manner, unfortunately), the Attis myth is interpreted (165) as the god representing the imperishable cause in the higher realm descending to the sphere of matter ("beneath the region of the moon") where, by mingling with it, he produces creation and generation in the material realm. But that mingling is fatal to him, and through his castration and death, he reascends to rejoin Cybele, his consort, restoring himself (and his initiates) to imperishability. This is simply another form of the death and resurrection myth, and its kinship with the descending/ascending motifs of Christian writings is unmistakable. All this is thoroughly Platonic—and all of it is gibberish, in that it bears no relation to reality.

Whereupon, we return to Muller.

Descending Gods


As a matter of fact, I did. On page 137, I mention the heavenly savior figure (referred to, by the way, as a "Man") known as the Illuminator, in the Apocalypse of Adam. In the passage 76-83, he performs "signs and wonders" for the benefit of the spirit powers and is given a gnostic myth involving birth from a virgin ("born of woman," one might say) while angelic powers warred around them, and dragons, birds, caves and mountains all put in an appearance in a clearly supernatural context. Similarly, the "Man" of the Apocryphon of John (20,1-8) is fashioned in heaven into a luminous "body" and is cast into matter, but even there, his activities are in a supernatural venue at the hands of the archons, and he seems to undergo death. This material is densely obscure, and certainly alien to the modern mind, but the motifs are there and have much in common with those of the epistles (which are in their own way saturated with alien obscurity, as any theologian has to admit). Some commentators on Gnosticism have concluded that this material is pre-Christian; most of them allow that it is at least independent of Christianity.

Carrier has already addressed Muller's incredulity that the realm of human territory ("flesh") could encompass the lowest spirit level, the air below the moon. And Muller himself will go on to discuss the Ascension of Isaiah in great detail, so he does know of an apparent example of an ancient god descending and experiencing pain, blood and death in a location not on earth. He also ignores my quotes from Julian about Attis descending only to the boundary between spirit and matter. Moreover, as Carrier goes on to say:


On these remarks see my next comments below. Muller goes on:


Carrier responds:


First of all, I cannot believe that after reading my book, Muller can still naively ask "does not death indicate a mortal fleshly condition?" He may not agree with my conclusions, but he can surely recognize the principle that gods can die in mythical settings which are not on earth in history. This was Paula Fredriksen's very uninformed reaction (see my "Challenging Doherty" article), and shows that the "failure of imagination" is widespread and betrays a deep misunderstanding of ancient world myth, especially in the period of Middle Platonism.

Carrier is one who has that understanding, but he has set limits on his commitment which I think are unjustified. He is correct in saying above that my "scheme is true but could be mapped onto a real person." But that's only in theory, since his comparison of the dual treatment of Romulus and Osiris by Plutarch with the situation in the New Testament is lacking in one important aspect. A writer like Plutarch makes it clear (though not to Muller) what he is doing; he states the earth-based myth and explains its meaning in terms of the heavenly version. He lays out his dual approach. Neither Paul nor any other New Testament epistle writer does that, and it is conspicuous by its absence. That all these authors and hymn writers would express themselves in this peculiar, ambiguous way without any clarification for the reader, while at the same time never providing the earthly version of Jesus' life, is, I maintain, not feasible if they were really speaking of a recent man. Carrier, in noting that the same language can apply to both a world above the earth and to becoming an actual man on earth, says "Paul specifies neither." But in a very real sense, he is wrong. Paul does indeed specify. He (as well as others) specifies by portraying his object of worship in terms of a spiritual, transcendent figure, without equating it with an historical man; he believes in a Son of God, not that anyone was the Son of God. He and others describe this Son in terms of Logos and Wisdom philosophy; the "interpretation" of Jesus of Nazareth which scholars have insisted on reading into these descriptions is never hinted at. Paul and others state in no uncertain terms that their Christ is a "mystery," a secret long-hidden by God and revealed in the present time through scripture and the Holy Spirit. In describing the advent of this Son in their own time, the verbs are of revealing, making known, manifesting, not coming to earth and living a life. In describing the beginnings of their revelatory faith movement, the gospel and the calling, the teaching and appointment of apostles, are all by God; debates are never argued or settled in terms of what Jesus taught or did in his ministry. This revelation of Christ and the gospel, fulfilling the age-old promise of God, is often phrased in such a way as to leave no room for an intervening Jesus figure; he is excluded from the scene and the ongoing course of salvation history. And when he is spoken of as due to arrive at the imminent Parousia, there is no mention of him having been on earth previously, in recent history, in Paul's own lifetime.

This total picture, with the observations made above about that handful of human-sounding terminology centered on kata sarka, placed within the context of Middle Platonic mythicism, can spell only one thing. Nothing has been mapped onto a real person, certainly not one who had just lived and supposedly left his mark on the world, generating a new faith movement. Everything in that picture fits; nothing is ad hoc. The paradigm is whole. It spells, I maintain, the failure and invalidity of agnosticism on the question of Jesus' existence. If we can't make a choice based on balance of probability in a case like this, we will never commit ourselves to anything.

If I may switch metaphors in mid-stream, I will borrow a phrase from Gilbert Murray (Five Stages of Greek Religion). What we have here is "a failure of nerve."




Because of the length of this rebuttal and the material included in it, I am breaking up the article into three parts. Both Muller and Carrier spent a lot of time on the Ascension of Isaiah and Hebrews, and there is more to come about descending gods, Romans 1:3 and kata sarka, as well as "born of woman" and secondary topics like Josephus. I am posting this first part before the rest is completed, which will hopefully be soon. In the course of writing the next parts, I may make some minor changes to this one.

Part Two

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