There have been two really weird and unexpected turns in mainstream peer-reviewed scholarship lately: multiple independent studies are redating the entire Bible—Old Testament and New—far later than consensus imagines.

What’s Up with the Old Testament?

The first trend is a concerted series of studies independently arguing that the entire Old Testament was essentially forged in the third or even second (!) century B.C. As that deals with Hebrew and pre-Classical ANE studies, which are not my field, I don’t have a strong opinion about this development, other than the general observation that when we see multiple independent studies converging on the same conclusion, the experts in that field do need to start taking it seriously. Especially when one of them comes from a bona fide expert of some renown, Yonatan Adler, whose 2022 study The Origins of Judaism: An Archaeological-Historical Reappraisal (by Yale University Press) argues from archaeological evidence that Torah law did not even exist until the second century B.C. (convincingly, it seems: see Chad Spigel’s review), and from another expert with at least reasonable credentials, Philippe Wajdenbaum, whose 2019 study Argonauts of the Desert: Structural Analysis of the Hebrew Bible (published by Routledge) argues the same conclusion from a literary analysis of the OT texts themselves (perhaps less convincingly: see Peter Miscall’s review; though compare the reviews of the hostile Serge Frolov and the more sympathetic Robert Gnuse).

Other leading experts had already expressed suspicions aligned with these results, and in fact appear even to have inspired them (see Thomas Thompson, The Mythic Past: Biblical Archaeology and the Myth of Israel, p. 230, and Niels Lemche, in a contribution to Did Moses Speak Attic?, pp. 220-24, and an article in the Journal of Hebrew Scriptures). So when people try to dismiss the amateur scholar Russell Gmirkin, who also published multiple studies to the point, also under legit peer review—Plato and the Creation of the Hebrew Bible (Routledge, 2019), then supplemented by Plato’s Timaeus and the Biblical Creation Accounts (Routledge, 2022), and long preceded by Berossus and Genesis (T&T Clark, 2006)—they are on shakier ground than they might think. Multiple peer reviewed studies, by multiple expert authors, are coming to the same conclusion, however sound or not. See the exchange between Gmirkin and Stéphanie Anthonioz for perspective.

As a rule, I am inclined to stick with the consensus. These studies might change or soften the consensus, or might not. And it might fail to for illegitimate reasons (since bias against their results is considerable). But I will need to see that play out over the next few years. How many experts remain hostile or sympathetic over time is something to keep an eye on (particularly the secular scholars, as the believers will never allow this conclusion and thus their bias may be insurmountable). If the field tries the strategies of ignoring or even lying about the content of these studies rather than engaging with them, however, then that will be damning for the consensus from any objective perspective. Time will tell.

What about the New Testament?

A similar trend has arisen for the New Testament, with now two independent peer-reviewed studies arguing that it was all forged (or just about) in the second century A.D.—indeed, all manufactured to purpose, and not an actual record of anything. The most extreme position is in David Trobisch, On the Origin of Christian Scripture: The Evolution of the New Testament Canon in the Second Century (Fortress, 2023); the less extreme, in Markus Vinzent, Resetting the Origins of Christianity: A New Theory of Sources and Beginnings (Cambridge University Press, 2023). What is particularly astonishing is who published these: Fortress is a stalwart Christian academic press of great renown, usually known for publishing belief-friendly work—it is literally owned and operated by Evangelical Lutherans (although granted, they are more liberal than that sounds). Meanwhile, Cambridge University’s renown and status need hardly be explicated. That is as prestigious a publisher as any academic study could secure. (Indeed another study is soon to publish from Cambridge University Press arguing a similar thesis to these: The Letters of Paul in their Roman Literary Context: Reassessing Apostolic Authorship, by Nina Livesey. So this is officially a mainstream trend.)

This is my field. So I do have an expert opinion to voice in the matter. And it is not what one might expect: I am not convinced. In fact, I am not even remotely persuaded. I do think Trobisch and Vinzent have in these books produced incredibly important, and almost entirely correct, critiques and corrections to the stale dogmas of the usual consensus (in much the way Robyn Faith Walsh did to “oral lore” theory). Very little of their studies actually concern their controversial conclusion that the entire New testament was forged or extensively redacted after the Bar Kochba revolt in the 130s A.D. They are both pushing (a proto-) Lukan priority. Indeed Vinzent believes Marcion himself wrote the first ever Gospel, the original draft of Luke; he differs from Trobisch only in allowing some other texts to come from the era of Paul, but even then he concurs with Trobisch in concluding that what those then said is now unrecoverable. But their books are mostly about something else.

Trobisch’s Origin of Christian Scripture is mostly about the editorial decisions made in composing and redacting the contents of the NT—and is the first study to consider that in such detail as crucial for understanding those contents. As such, Trobisch supplements Walsh (who focused on the literary production of the books of the NT) by adding a concomitant focus on the editorial production of those books in the NT. By contrast, Vinzent’s Resetting the Origins of Christianity looks outside the Bible at the context of Christian literature and propaganda that produced the Bible we have. His study is mostly about deconstructing the lies and fabrications of (particularly ancient) Christian ‘historians’, and thus demolishing the edifice that most studies of Christian origins are still (inexplicably) based on, like an overly gullible trust in the narratives of Tertullian or Eusebius or Irenaeus, and all their ideological kin.

As such, I welcome both projects. They not only contribute documentation of what are all-too-often neglected or scoffed-at realities, but they even support the findings of myself and Raphael Lataster. Their results undermine confidence in the historicity of Jesus by undermining confidence in the reliability of any early document we possess concerning him. I do believe, however, that they go well too far, and by a similar fallacy of reasoning: Trobisch finds abundant evidence of editorial alteration, selection, and presentation of the NT texts, and concludes they are therefore all fabricated propaganda; Vinzent finds no external evidence of any of these books existing before Marcion, and concludes they are therefore all fabricated by or after Marcion. These are non sequiturs. Indeed, they are the same non sequitur, ironically, that historicists rightly call out for Jesus: just because we have no external reports of a historical Jesus from his generation does not permit the conclusion that he did not exist (and indeed this is my own conclusion in On the Historicity of Jesus, Ch. 8).

I think their recourse to these non sequiturs reflects a failure to frame inductive logic correctly. This is why historians really need to learn Bayes’ Theorem. It would forestall these kinds of mistakes.

This Much Does Not Survive Scrutiny

I imagine most people may have thought I’d glom right on to the conclusions of Trobisch and Vinzent, given that I’d love for them to be right—it would almost at one stroke destroy the historicity of Jesus, dropping it back down to the base rate of magical founder-heroes being historical, which is no better than 1 in 3 (On the Historicity of Jesus, Ch. 6, there counting the base rate of one subset of heavily mythologized heroes, which proxies to the set of magical founder-heroes: see Jesus and the Problem of the Fraudulent Reference Class). But I only follow the evidence, and only nonfallacious reasoning. And as such, my own study (reinforced by the vetting of Lataster’s study) actually adduced quite a lot of evidence against this conclusion in Trobisch and Vinzent. In Bayesian terms, their theory does not make as likely the odd features I found in the book of Acts or the Epistles of Paul; or the contents of Hebrews and 1 Clement; or the oddity of different branches of Christianity placing Jesus in different periods of history; it doesn’t even explain well the oddities in the Epistles of Ignatius and the Hegessippan James Apocryphon (see Doing the Math: Historicity of Jesus Edition). These texts all contain features that are only probable if they were composed before the Jewish War or in ignorance of each other and especially of the agendas Trobisch and Vinzent allege.

But this is true even of the canonical Gospels. Though I find no evidence in them that makes Jesus any less likely to exist (apart from establishing him as a magical founder-hero), in arriving at that conclusion I document extensive examples of redactional activity that defies the timelines of Trobisch and Vinzent. For their excessive side-conclusions (but not the rest), they both require Luke or proto-Luke to be the first Gospel. But literary and structural analysis of Mark and Matthew shows that they had no knowledge of even proto-Luke, much less “Luke”; whereas it reveals many examples of Luke altering content from Mark and Matthew—and not the other way around. I even added a new recent example, Like, Can You Rebel Against Rome with Only Two Swords? which shows Luke making multiple coherent edits to Mark to refashion two whole chapters of material, which would be bizarre (indeed, practically unintelligible) as an elaborate program of coordinated deletion.

This is also supported by the arguments of Mark Goodacre already against Lukan priority (from editorial fatigue to redactional trends). Even our Gospel of John, which is a “response” to Luke, establishes this, in the extensive evidence (agreed by most Johannine experts today) that our John is a third and final redaction of an earlier Gospel which lacked all that Luke-responsive material. Trobisch and Vinzent cannot explain this. If someone were forging John to respond to Luke, it would be coherent, not a sloppy hash leaving numerous signs of messing up the original’s chronology and story arc. That entails there was a pre-Lukan John—one that again shows redactional reliance on (definitely) Mark and (possibly) Matthew as a source (see my summary in Historicity, Ch. 10.7), which further undermines Lukan priority.

Likewise, the same things that convince me the seven “authentic” letters of Paul really were authentic (even if edited) and predate the first Jewish war stand as a refutation of this thesis of Trobisch and Vinzent (see How Do We Know the Apostle Paul Wrote His Epistles in the 50s A.D.? and The Historicity of Paul the Apostle). For instance, the Epistles we have are mostly pastiches of multiple letters. As just one example (and there are dozens), 1 and 2 Corinthians are not two letters, but more likely two scrolls, containing pieces of all the letters Paul wrote to Corinth (which we know numbered more than two), with redactional edits or cuts stitching them together. For example, 1 Cor. 8 and 9 do not come from the same letter. The original material introducing and explaining the argument Paul is rebutting in 1 Cor. 9 has been stripped out, and the rest mashed to the end of 1 Cor. 8 without even an explanatory transition, merely because they discuss vaguely related themes. But it is clear the author of 1 Cor. 9 had been talking about something else (some other accusation or controversy) and not what is now preceding it in 1 Cor. 8.

Likewise all the other awkward transitions, double addresses, double introductions, and double endings across many of the letters: these all signal that someone has taken a dossier of letters and cut-and-pasted bits of them into running collections (rather lazily even). That is not what a forgery looks like. Forgers just fake the letter they want (see 3 Corinthians, for example). They don’t construct awkward Frankenstein’s monsters as if from some previous collection of material. Only someone who is editing an already-existing collection of material does that—and in this case, that already-existing collection demonstrably pre-date’s Marcion’s, because his collection of these letters already shows this redactional activity. The same follows for all the material even in his version that undermines all his supposed doctrines. A forger would just make documents entirely endorsing their views—they do not fabricate documents that only awkwardly fit them (and even then only with interpretive apologetics). Similarly, forgers would not produce arguments rendered obsolete by subsequent events (e.g. 1 Clement fails to know the excellent examples of its own points in the Judas narrative and the Jewish rebellion; while Hebrews is written in ignorance of the fact that the Second Temple, which it is trying to argue its readers to stop relying on, doesn’t even exist anymore—even someone pretending to write ‘before’ then would capitalize on this slam-dunk argument with at least prophetic declaration, not forget that the argument is even available, and conclusively settles their side).

The evidence against the radical Trobisch-Vinzent thesis extends even to specific particulars. For example, it is almost certain that 1 Cor. 14:34–35 is an interpolation (and Trobisch agrees: 150n16)—it has Paul insist women keep quiet in congregations, after the real Paul had just given rules for women speaking in congregations (there is also some manuscript evidence, and more than shows up in standard critical apparatuses: see my discussion of Pauline interpolations in Hitler Homer Bible Christ). Yet this verse was in Marcion’s edition. The anti-Marcionite edition added the forged Pastorals to double down on Paul’s fabricated misogyny. But they did not interpolate this sentiment into 1 Corinthians. Someone did that before Marcion. Which means Marcion did not “invent” 1 Corinthians. He inherited it—indeed, he inherited it from a whole chain of prior redactors. Because whoever pastiched the letters to Corinth into a single “First Letter to Corinth” is not likely the same person who added verses 14:34–35, because the pasticher notably did not add verses even to smooth over the stitches, so they were clearly not inclined to add verses at all. That wasn’t on their agenda.

Likewise, 1 Clement cannot have been written before the late 60s A.D., yet references Paul’s letters to Corinth, so we know such things existed then (see How We Can Know 1 Clement Was Actually Written in the 60s AD and Interpreting 1 Clement’s Supposed Descriptions of Fabulous Murders). 1 Clement had not yet heard of the legend of Paul being executed by Nero in Rome (which is all over texts of the late second century), because he still thinks Paul died in Spain (the ‘farthest reaches of the West’). 1 Clement had no knowledge of the Gospel narratives at all (as I mentioned, he fails to use the apposite Judas narrative in his examples of betrayal; he does not know the splitting of the woes sayings into two different places as in the Gospels, he still thinks they were one coherent saying uttered together; and so on: see Historicity, ch. 8.5).

Likewise, the describer of the Damascus incident in 2 Cor. 11 had not heard of the Damascus incident described in Acts 9 (they contradict each other on what happened and why: see How We Know Acts Is a Fake History); indeed, the author of Galatians had not heard of the completely contradictory narrative of Acts 6–9: the real Paul says he had never even been to Judea until after his conversion, whereas Acts places him there from the start; the real Paul says he went immediately to Arabia after his conversion, not Damascus, whereas Acts deletes the Arabian adventure altogether—even though it would obviously have better explained the Damascus incident described in 2 Cor. 11 (since having just fled Arabia would explain why Arabian marshals were chasing him, a detail Acts simply eliminates altogether, converting Paul’s enemies into local ‘Jews’ rather than foreign royal deputies). It is true that Acts was invented to change all of these things (it is deliberately rewriting Paul), but if you were planning to include Acts with these letters, and had total editorial control over both, why wouldn’t you harmonize them? And if Marcion fabricated this letter, why would he not explain these obscure references? It is unlikely he ingeniously created a coherent backstory for two obscure references across two letters, and then forgot to provide that backstory. It is much more likely the backstory is not there (yet multiple independent references to it are) because Paul was writing to congregations who already knew it. This device makes little sense as a product of a coordinated forgery.

More damning is the structure of Mark. I would be delighted to find that Matthew was the first Gospel after all, and Mark just a summary, because Matthew is the most fabulous (and thus most obviously entirely fictional) Gospel. That would all but destroy any hope that Jesus was a historical person, rather than a product of literary fantasy. But alas, the evidence for Markan priority is overwhelming, not just as documented by Goodacre, but as I and others document in respect to Markan structure. For example, all of Dennis MacDonald’s evidence of Markan emulation of Homer gets ignored by Matthew and Luke, who borrow material from Mark preserving some of the Homeric mimesis (so they know a text that has it—which would be Mark) but destroying its order and completeness (so they don’t know or care about the original Homeric composition of the text).

Similarly, all the other structure I find in Historicity (Ch. 10.4), which explains all sorts of oddities in Mark (like why he doubles the five miracles of Jesus into ten separate stories, a Mosaic decalogue, and constructs a strange, repetitive, criss-crossing of the Sea of Galilee from Jewish to Gentile lands and back that correlates to an elaborate triadic structure), but which was lost in Matthew and Luke, who took some of this (even repetitively) but destroyed the original structure that explained it all (replacing it with their own structural choices: Chs. 10.5 and 10.6). This means those stories originated in that structure—and therefore not in Matthew or Luke.

Similarly, Luke’s Nativity only makes sense as a correction to Matthew’s (reversing his account of the family of Jesus becoming literal outlaws into Luke’s account of them being obsessively obedient to the law, Jewish and Roman), not the other way around. Though Marcion skipped the Nativity altogether, it’s hard to explain how one would get tacked on to Luke that “fixed” and thus contradicted Matthew’s when one is supposing the same people wrote both narratives to correct Marcion. That is simply not a coherent theory. It is, rather, hopelessly convoluted. Its plausibility is crushed under the weight of its own epicycles.

This has not been an exhaustive list of examples. The evidence against Trobisch and Vinzent’s chronology is extensive, far more extensive than I’ve summarized. Their theory performs very poorly in explaining the redactional changes and agendas across Mark, Matthew, and Luke (as well as even our John), and in explaining the content or editorial mashwork of the Epistles (in and out of the canon). Their ultimate conclusion is therefore doomed. It has no prospect of being true. But Origin and Resetting are not dependent on these conclusions. The idea that the entire NT was written after 135 A.D. is not their core thesis, and thus it could be deleted from both books entirely and they would remain coherent, useful studies.

The Trobisch Case

Trobisch expands on his previously established theory (which was based on telltale signs in surviving manuscripts: see  The First Edition of the New Testament) that the NT canon is really just a later endorsement of an actual published edition from the late second century, a collection of books assembled together to counteract the original NT edition of Marcion (which does not survive, but definitely predated ours). What Trobisch adds now are a lot of analyses showing specific editorial decisions across all the books chosen for that collection (most of which is reasonably argued, and valuable to consult); and then this additional punt to the idea that, therefore, the whole thing was fabricated for that function: Marcion fabricated all his stuff; these editors then redacted his stuff and fabricated more stuff; and voila, the New Testament. This is the bit that isn’t well argued.

For example, at one point Trobisch argues that Paul’s assistant “Tertius,” who scribed Romans (or at least part of what we now call Romans) on Paul’s dictation (Romans 16:22), must be made up because Tertius means “Third” and yet he is ironically a “third” party to the letter (neither author nor addressee, 180n38). But Tertius was also a well-known name in antiquity—both a Roman gens (family name) and first name (Tertius meant “Third Son” hence “Thirdson,” like Quintus, “Fifthson,” and Sextus, “Sixthson,” even more common first names than Tertius) and even a nickname (a cognomen; examples), but also a slave name. In fact naming slaves or freedmen with a number was even more common than for free men (Frank, p. 692). That the household of Gaius (from where Paul writes: Romans 16:23) also had a Quartus (whom Trobisch also tries to claim is a joke name; it’s not, it’s a real, well-attested name) suggests these are the slaves of Gaius, which is a Roman name, hence likely in this case a Roman citizen—evidently of some wealth, hobnobbing with a city magistrate even. There is nothing improbable here. Without any evidence to support Trobisch’s reason for the name to be here over the more obvious reason it is, the likelihoods are a wash; and without evidence in this case, since most appearances in the ancient record of the names “Tertius” and “Quartus” are real and not joke names or symbolical names, the priors favor these being real people. So we simply cannot claim what Trobisch is. And I am someone who is sympathetic to such arguments. But I have also been critical of the over-use of such hypotheses without adequate evidence or warranted confidence (I describe the required method in Proving History, 192–204).

Contrast the example of Cicero’s joke involving the name Tertia (the female form) attested in Suetonius: (1) the context establishes it is a joke (so we do not have to “posit” that it is) and (2) the joke is based on there being a real actual woman of that name. So it isn’t even a joke name there. It’s just a joke made out of a real person’s name. We cannot argue from this that therefore Junia Tertia didn’t exist, that Suetonius or Cicero made her up. We need better evidence than we have, if we want to get to a conclusion like Trobisch’s—and that means, in Bayesian terms, facts that are improbable on any other explanation than his. But a wealthy Gaius having some slaves or freedmen named with numbers isn’t improbable. Whereas, to the contrary, on Trobisch’s reading, the intended joke isn’t even well motivated. He suggests this is a device to fabricate eyewitness testimony, which was a thing (we have examples of authors doing that), but here there is no particular need of such a thing. It does no work. It doesn’t even explain why there are four witnesses listed here—because there are in fact eight, and Tertius is not the third one listed, nor is Quartus the fourth, nor is there a Primus or a Secundus to complete the list. The assignment of only two of these witnesses these numbers-for-names, while the others get nonnumerical names, simply makes no sense on Trobisch’s theory. It is ‘possible’ but there is no evidence to make it probable. We therefore can do nothing with it as a premise.

Trobisch would be on better ground in the Gospels, where fake names appositely chosen for their roles in the story is common (unlike the authentic Epistles, where there is not a single clear case of it; certainly none as clear as any in the Gospels). But alas, that’s not the context he is trying this on. And yet even there we have evidence. The name Nicodemus, for example, which means “Victory for the People,” has three improbable features rendering its fabrication likely: the name is otherwise unattested in Judea (and is a particularly weird name for a member of the Jerusalem Sanhedrin); and it is weirdly apposite in context, as Nicodemus stands up for the people (John 7:50) and is declared even by Jesus to be “Israel’s teacher” (John 3:10) and prevails in his judgment for their salvation (John 19:38–40); and he has been inserted into stories where he never appeared before (e.g., the Synoptics have Joseph tend the body; now Nicodemus shows up to help, a character never mentioned in any prior Gospel). Combined, all these things together are improbable unless this is a fictional character, whose name serves some symbolical function. Trobisch has nothing like this to offer for Tertius.

Trobisch commits all these same errors with other attempts to invent new narratives behind names and passages in the Bible. As, for example, when trying to argue (127) that the conclusion of Hebrews 13 was fabricated to invent a Pauline authorship for it—yet without just saying Paul wrote it, an omission that makes no sense on Trobisch’s theory: if that’s what the editors wanted, that’s what they would have done, not this elaborate word-game that Trobisch contrives, and for which he presents no evidence. It’s even more illogical given his assumption that these editors forged the whole letter. The other letters they forged clearly say Paul wrote them, with named secretaries even; why would they suddenly forget how to do that here? Why would they change their method—and only here? This evidence is simply far more likely if Hebrews was a pre-existent letter that they didn’t edit; that’s why its fit is awkward: its author’s name is missing (possibly because they deleted it, possibly because it was lost in transmission well before this); its style is aberrant; it never appeals to Pauline authority; and it is unaware that the one thing it was written to combat (a reliance on Jewish temple cult) was no longer a problem that needed addressing.

In the same fashion, Trobisch’s theory makes little sense of attributing letters to James and Jude (125): he wants this to have been the forging of an attribution to the authority of Jesus’s brothers, but that is conspicuously (and bizarrely) what these letters do not do. On Trobisch’s theory, we expect to a high probability that the forgers would have these authors identify themselves as the brothers of Jesus (or of the Lord or whatever). But they don’t. That’s simply improbable on his thesis. It is, however, entirely expected if these are not the brothers of Jesus, but early Apostles of these names—who were brothers of each other, not of Jesus. They also lack features expected if forged for the agendas of the mid-second century. For example, they show no knowledge of the concept of “Disciples,” knowing only of “Apostles” which is significantly not the same thing; they have no knowledge of any of the stories in the Gospels or Acts; and they appear to appeal to a context closer to the historical Paul’s, unaware of how all the fraught foci of debate had shifted after a hundred years. So Trobisch is just acting like because he can think of an “alternative history” for these letters and their contents that, therefore, as if by magic, his new narrative is then more likely. He never appeals to evidence for his theory; and he ignores all evidence against his theory.

On occasion I did catch Trobisch’s reasoning being based on a factually false premise, as when he tries to draw conclusions from the supposed fact that Romans 1:3 is the ‘only’ time Jesus is said to be related to David in the authentic letters of Paul (noting it appears otherwise ‘only’ in 2 Tim. 2:8: 178n20). But that’s not true: Romans 15:12 repeats the sentiment (it just doesn’t use the word “David,” but a metonym instead, “root of Jesse,” which is just a poetic way of saying the same thing). Also, he claims “nine out of ten letter collections published in antiquity” are fake (140), but cites only himself, and in a work I have no access to to check what he could mean by that, but I suspect this is inaccurate—I think such a result can only be reached by padding the category of “letter collections” with Christian forgeries of Paul’s letters (in the canon and out), making his counting a bit circular—and self-defeating, as it is precisely the difference between those forgeries and the “authentic seven” (or maybe six) that we know this, which is evidence for the authentic letters being real, not the other way around. They do not fit type. Otherwise, the letter collections of Epicurus, Cicero, Seneca, Pliny, Fronto, Libanius, Symmachus, Jerome, Paulinus, Ambrose, and Augustine already makes for ten legit letter collections, a lot more than “one” (and I stopped counting at the fourth century, in case his framing of “ancient” was meant to exclude beyond). I understand his logic of prior probability here (Christians usually forged letters, therefore we need reasons to believe any authentic) but it doesn’t warrant skipping over evidence that supports Paul’s seven being real.

But such mistakes are scant. When Trobisch errs, it’s typically only in logic, often with hasty inferences unchecked by attention to Bayesian priors or likelihoods. For example, he will just, out of the blue, declare “the odds are strongly in favor” of his theory of Mark and Matthew being riffs on Luke (139), without even presenting evidence for those odds—much less effective evidence, such as would get him a “strongly” favorable odds. Indeed, I am left to ask, what does he even think these odds are, or what range of odds he thinks counts as “strongly in favor”? Historians need to stop making mathematical statements without doing any math. But there isn’t even any evidence offered across the whole book for upping those odds; hence not even an implied mathematical argument. So when one reads this book, you need to attend carefully to his logic: many times he arrives at confident conclusions merely after proposing a hypothesis, forgetting to present any evidence that his hypothesis is probable (at all, much less more probable than the most likely alternative may be: for example, watch what happens across pages 110–11).

Other times Trobisch attends correctly to inductive logic and presents evidence (which means: facts that are improbable on any other theory than his, especially the most likely alternative to his, and conclusions that have, or that he has established have, already reasonable prior probabilities), and that’s where his book does well. But he himself will never tell you which is happening: you have to observe carefully to catch when either is going on. Sometimes that takes work, like when he will “interpret” editorial changes out of a text without giving evidence, but he did give evidence earlier supporting the general principles he applies, so you have to recall that to “see” the evidence backing specific applications of his interpretive hypothesis. Trobisch also performs poorly in modulating his confidence—almost every conclusion he hyperbolically asserts as strong, when often it is not. Many of his conclusions do achieve a balance of probability (his conclusions are more probably than not true), but not a strong confidence beyond that; and you often won’t see him admit this. Often, insteasd, you will have to “downtone” his statements of overconfidence without misreading that downtoning as warranting doubt of his conclusions. The matter is rarely so black and white.

Nevertheless, most of what Trobisch argues is logical. And his overall project is sound: his actual core thesis is that the New Testament must be treated as a concerted work of edited propaganda, assembled (and even written or edited) at a particular time, by a particular group, for a particular purpose. If you do not heed this context, every conclusion you reach will go astray, fooled by the very propaganda itself (and thus gullibly becoming yet another of its intended victims). Indeed the first third of his book teaches from examples outside the Bible of how propaganda operates in the domain of literature, which he then shows applies to the NT. Overall he does a good job of showing what Christian literature as a whole was doing (in and out of the Bible), what it was for, and the tactics it repeatedly employed to sell forgeries and lies to win doctrinal (and socio-political) points in ongoing (particularly timely) disputes, and that our NT as a single published unit belongs to this literature, indeed as a paradigmatic example of it, not an exception to it (and Vinzent shores this up with even more extensive examples).

For instance, Trobisch makes a good case that the Pastorals and the Johannines, and 2 Peter and Jude, and the final redaction of the Gospel of John were produced (literally made-to-order) by the editors of the anti-Marcionite edition—in other words, the same people who selected the books to publish together that would later become our familiar canon (see Three Things to Know about New Testament Manuscripts), those people actually wrote (or commissioned the intentional writing of) those forged epistles and that final edit of John. By the same logic this could also be true of our edition of Acts and the Nativity of Luke (if, IMO, we allow, contra Trobisch, the Nativity of Matthew to already be circulating for it to ‘rewrite’). His case for all this is reasonable—not conclusive, but it tips the odds at least a little in favor: the evidence does suggest all these texts and edits share a common purpose and ideology and a common period of production, all of which ultra-convenient to the entire purpose of the anti-Marcionite edition, which is at least a little less likely on any other thesis.

These forgeries needn’t share the same author, because this would have been a group working together or at an organizer’s behest—one tasked with producing the Johannines, another the Pastorals, etc. Which would explain the common style within them (the Pastorals all seem by the same hand, and one similar to our version of Luke’s; the Johannines, and the final redaction of John, by another). Trobisch’s thesis also makes more sense of what does appear to have been a coherent, coordinated program of propagandists in the last half of the second century. For example, he provides a good explanation of how and why the myths and legends of how the Gospels were written and preserved were invented (and thus are wholly fake); which is a project even more thoroughly completed by Vinzent.

Even when Trobisch’s more dubious thesis (of a wholesale late forgery of the entire NT) is abandoned, his arguments can survive to another effect: for example, when he argues that the editor brought Luke together with Mark and Matthew, this was “Theophilus” producing “the sources Luke had used” (138), in an effort to undermine Marcion’s alleged abuse of Luke’s Gospel, by producing its predecessor-texts—which happen to call into question Marcion’s program. For example, both prove continuity with Judaism and thus the antiquity rather than novelty of Christianity. To Trobisch, this is evidence that Mark and Matthew were forged to the purpose. But there is no evidence of that. More credibly, the reason Mark and Matthew were brought in for the purpose was that they were, in fact, Luke’s sources. That would have been even more effectual than suddenly coming up with alleged sources no one had ever seen before. Meanwhile, on this same reasoning, John was added to “correct” Luke (for examples of how it does that, see my analysis in Historicity, Ch. 10.7), which was then itself included to usurp its authority, controlling its interpretation rather than trying to condemn it, indeed passing off their expanded version of it as the real one. (This could also explain why there are two versions of Luke-Acts: if the even longer one not in the canon, such as is preserved in Codex Bezae, is the actual original, and Marcion’s and ours different edits thereof.)

In any event, that far better explains the problematic baggage of contradictions their inclusion brought to bear. Forgers would not self-sabotage like that. But propagandists including already-known texts would explain why they didn’t have perfectly suitable texts to use, just texts suitable enough—all problems ensuing could then be solved exegetically or apologetically. This would agree with my own theory that these four contradictory Gospels were brought into the edition because they were the texts most widely used in churches the anti-Marcionites most wanted to win over in their campaign to expel and marginalize Marcion. Which is the same reason the Nicene creed was contrived, despite being a hopeless tangle of unintelligible contradictions: it is a Frankenstein’s monster of all the creeds of all the churches chosen to be the “in group,” and which excludes all the churches politically selected for abolition, thus effecting the needed political in-group/out-group inclusion/exclusion protocol by Shibboleth (as is well argued in the closing chapters of Bart Ehrman’s How Jesus Became God). Trobisch himself even describes such a theory for the assembly of the NT (28).

One final caveat to note is that I was confused reading synopses of this book describing Trobisch’s theory as proposing all the books of the NT “are” autographs. He does say this in the book, but he is using the word “autograph” weirdly, indeed double-weirdly, and it took reading the whole book to untangle what he actually means. Normally “autograph” means the actual, physical original (with ink actually placed on the papyrus by the author, or a scribe under his eye). Trobisch instead means just “written by who it says or implies.” Also, rather than meaning that these attributions are authentic, he means that they are fabricated: all the attributions, to every book in the NT, are false. As I’ve noted, I disagree with half those claims. But he does smartly discuss the techniques used to fabricate authenticity in the NT (such as, for example, his case for the editors faking a reference to a non-existent manuscript as a source in John 21:24: 89), and even when a specific claim he makes can be doubted, his points retain general validity (he is describing techniques that actually are attested across world literature, and ancient Christian literature in particular, as he well documents), and thus remain food for thought: his conclusions, even when wrong, still have to be ruled out, not merely dismissed. As such this book is useful even when it is in error.

The Vinzent Case

Vinzent shores up a lot of what Trobisch argues. He provides an even more detailed explanation of how and why the myths and legends of how the Gospels were written and preserved were invented (and thus are wholly fake), and thus why we should not trust them—and likewise everything else we are ‘told’ by Christian propagandists about their first century (or even early second). That is, in fact, the main occupation of his book, and as such, it is required reading now for anyone who would attempt to write (or even comprehend) a history of the origins or early development of Christianity. He starts with Gregory of Tours and works back, through Orosius, then Eusebius, and so on down (through the likes of Tertullian and Irenaeus all the way to Acts and its various iterations), and pulling back layer after layer of legendary development, propaganda, and telephone-gaming, until what we have left is…nothing. Which means most if not all of what we have been told about how Christianity began and developed is false, invented-to-purpose or exaggerated into existence by the desperation of faith (for my own example of what Vinzent does to a far greater extent: see How To Fabricate History: The Example of Eusebius on Alexandrian Christianity). With all that, I am on board. And this looks to be the most complete defense of that point yet.

Unlike Trobisch, I did not read Vinzent’s book in detail. I skimmed for sense, looking for conclusions, and what evidence he presented for them, and I was not as much concerned to vet either, because it was clear most of his project looks sound. So I did some spot-checking of Vinzent’s overall angle and found nothing amiss. But when I checked his specific extreme claim of the entire NT being a post-Marcion invention, just as with Trobisch I found no evidence at all, just a lot of fallacious reasoning. So these two components of his book need to be separated and treated differently. Vinzent also differs from Trobisch in allowing some versions of Revelation and the Pauline Epistles to predate Marcion (everything other than the Pastorals, which we all agree are post-Marcion), but his position is that we cannot recover the original text: all we have is Marcion’s edit overlayed with an anti-Marcionite edit. Which is contrary to the consensus position which is that we have the pre-Marcionite edition of those letters, with nevertheless perhaps some anti-Marcionite editing. An example of how this affects the debate is our trust in the authenticity of 1 Cor. 8:6 as we have it, whose reference to the Christ as Creator is more likely something Marcion deleted than that the anti-Marcionites added (likewise Colossians 1:16).

To be fair, Vinzent regards most of his “case” for, in particular, Lukan priority, to have been made elsewhere (Marcion and the Dating of the Synoptic Gospels). But as best I can tell, that still leans on the same fallacy as repeated here. I haven’t read it (it’s beyond my means to acquire a copy), so maybe he goes into answering the text-critical, literary, and structural arguments against Lukan priority I just surveyed earlier; and maybe (?) it does so successfully, but I am not encouraged by what I saw here. This book makes essentially no arguments at all for Lukan priority, except occasional non sequiturs which don’t even mention the kind of evidence I have. And, like Trobisch, suddenly when this is the target, factual accuracy wanes as well as logic. I’ll just give one example as illustrative:

Vinzent argues that “there is no reason” Tertullian “should have fabricated and attributed to Marcion the notion that the four gospels were plagiarized versions of Marcion’s own gospel” (161), therefore Marcion said that and told the truth; therefore, Marcion’s Gospel (the first draft of what later was named Luke) must have predated the canonical four. This is both illogical and factually in error. First, obviously we could imagine Marcion would make such an accusation—that’s how propaganda works. For example, I have no doubt that the reason Matthew copies Mark almost verbatim is that he intended to pass his work off as the original and falsely accuse Mark of being the corrupted version. 2 Thessalonians even attempts to imply 1 Thessalonians is the forgery (2 Thessalonians 2:1–3, 3:16–17; it is, of course, the other way around). Trobisch documents this repeatedly as a common tactic of propaganda, then as now. So Vinzent’s argument lacks even logic. We cannot infer Marcion was telling the truth here. But it also is factually incorrect: Tertullian never says this.

Vinzent cites here Tertullian, Against Marcion 4.3.2. Read that all through. Tertullian never says Marcion claimed the other Gospels were written after his. What Tertullian actually says is that Marcion tried to discredit those other Gospels (destruendum statum eorum evangeliorum quae propria et sub apostolorum nomine eduntur, lit. ‘tearing down the status of those Gospels, which are genuine and produced under the name of the Apostles’). But he says Marcion did that by admitting those Gospels were written by Apostles but then claiming those Apostles perverted the message (apostolos praevaricationis et simulationis suspectos Marcion haberi queritur usque ad evangelii depravationem, ‘Marcion complains that the Apostles are suspected of prevarication and pretense, all the way to perverting the gospel’). Which means Marcion made, in fact, the opposite claim to what Vinzent alleges. We might doubt the honesty of Tertullian (he’s not an honest man), but even then we don’t have any evidence of this premise Vinzent invented—of Marcion claiming the other Gospels were written after his. To the contrary, we have here evidence Marcion recognized they preceded his—because the only argument he then had was that they were distorted. This turns Vinzent’s own reasoning against him: Tertullian would not have much reason to “hide” Marcion making Vinzent’s argument (as then Tertullian would need to rebut that argument); we can therefore trust that Tertullian is at least attempting to rebut the argument Marcion actually made.

Which means Marcion did attest to those other Gospels predating his, and even evinced or supported the belief that they were written by actual Disciples! This is why Tertullian’s response is to argue against the claim that the Apostles could have distorted the text, by noting it is then even less likely someone who wasn’t an Apostle (Luke) would preserve it reliably. What never occurs to Tertullian is to present arguments for those Gospels predating Marcion’s. He simply takes that for granted as acknowledged even by Marcion. So Vinzent’s argument here is not only illogical, it’s contrary to fact—it fails to mention that the fact appears instead to be that Marcion denied Lukan priority. There are almost no arguments for Lukan priority in this book, and when you stumble on any, they are always like this (162): illogical and factless.

However, that does not undermine the rest, as once we excise this claim everywhere from Vinzent’s book, as best I could tell the rest holds up as factually accurate and well argued. But as I said, I did not thoroughly verify that. So if you read the book more closely and find any other boners in there, do please mention them in comments, or ask about any fact-claims or inferences you find in Resetting that you aren’t sure of.

Conclusion

I am not yet convinced of either new trend: that the Old Testament was forged by committee in the second century B.C. I am not yet convinced of because I cannot vet the case and I need to see OT experts address it fairly first; while that the New Testament was forged by committee in the second century A.D. I am not yet convinced of because the evidence is non-existent and countered by a vast swath of evidence against it. Nevertheless, you must avoid this black-or-white fallacy, as all others: I agree with pieces of what they are saying. Roughly half of the NT has been forged, probably for the very purpose (and around the very time) that Vinzent and Trobisch document; while the other half has gone through untrustworthy editorial hands, and some even originates dubiously regardless (e.g., the Gospels and Acts, for example, are mythologies, not histories in any legitimate sense). So my rejecting their extremest conclusion does not warrant embracing the opposite extreme bandied by modern apologists: Trobisch and Vinzent prove the editorial and agenda-driven dishonesty in the production of the NT and its every book is real and of concern. Because most of their books isn’t even concerned with the extreme conclusion, but the more measured one, developing extremely useful, and often correct, analyses of early Christian propaganda, in and out of the Bible. And this is something all historians must now be aware of and take seriously even wherever they might still disagree.

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