Interpreting Jesus is an anthology of six essays covering eschatology, typology, miracles, female disciples, memory, and method in historical Jesus studies. Allison notes that the project began with an essay he wrote on miracles that struggled to get past peer review. He realised it would benefit from the broader licence afforded by publication in a book. This also allowed him to include closing excursuses with four of the chapters, which suggest ways of engaging theologically with the historical arguments presented. There is much here about the nature of history and the complex questions surrounding what historians find possible or plausible.
In chapter 1, Allison establishes that Jewish and Christian writers before and after the time of Jesus believed that the coming of eschatological redemption was not fixed but could be hastened or delayed by corporate repentance. He highlights this theme of contingent eschatology across the synoptics, arguing that Jesus may have come to realise events were not aligning with his hopes for immanent judgement and redemption, and that the tradition of contingency allowed him to make sense of this delay. The excursus to this chapter discusses Joachim Jeremias’ view that while Jesus, in his human ignorance, wrongly expected the end to come, God intended the real parousia to happen in Jesus’ resurrection and ascension. With Jeremias, we have yet another Lutheran biblical scholar making mischief with ‘kenosis’ and pretending that Nestorianism is innovative. To his credit, Allison does not endorse this view but merely explains it.
In chapter 2, Allison argues that typologies are not only features of texts but also of human lives. The biographers of Simeon Stylites drew clear parallels between Simeon and Moses, not as a hagiographic embellishment but because Simeon thought and spoke about himself in these terms. ‘It is human to imitate others, and human to imitate heroes’ (p. 100). In this light, Allison finds it likely that Jesus, like Martin Luther King, Jr. and Harriet Tubman, saw himself in the figure of Moses.
Chapter 3 is the raison d’etre of the volume, in which Allison invites readers to ponder his predicament: ‘What if a historian of the early Jesus movement decides—on empirical, not theological grounds—that sometimes people see the future, that clairvoyance is not uncommon, that additional metanormal claims should be seriously entertained, and even that enigmatic capacities sometimes congregate in exceptional or charismatically gifted individuals?’ (p. 154). These ‘empirical, not theological grounds’ are a persistent theme. Possibilities abound between the poles of physicalist scepticism and religious apologetics. Allison insists that if we are open to the miraculous in the Gospels, we must be open to similar claims from non-Christian sources. We must disconnect the question ‘Did Jesus do miracles?’ from ‘Is Christianity the true religion?’ (p. 180). Ultimately, Allison suggests that some of the capacities displayed in Jesus’ miracles – overhearing the thoughts of others, foreseeing the future, becoming anomalously radiant – appear to be rare natural human capacities. For Allison, such anomalies should lead to awe and wonder, not fundamentalist certitude. (This is not unlike the message of apophatic theology. To believe in God is not to corroborate our frameworks and categories of thought, but to blow them out of the water. It seems to me that such a theology may be more of an ally to Allison than he seems willing to acknowledge).
The excursus to this chapter turns to the Christology of Sergius Bulgakov, who maintains that Jesus’ miracles are not the work of his ‘divine nature’ but rather works of his human nature perfected by God. Miracles are ‘natural’ in the sense that they are latent potencies of human nature. The excursus suggests some paths not taken in the main chapter. For instance, between empirical and theological grounds, there is philosophy. This lacuna is significant because an appeal to empirical evidence without reference to metaphysics sustains the age-old dichotomy of historical Jesus scholarship: events can be consequential if they are not historical (Strauss), or historical, provided they are not meaningful (Paulus). Allison gives us a version of the latter: we need not be sceptical of the miracles themselves, as Paulus was, but we cannot say that ‘God’ did them, or that they establish anything about Jesus’ identity. If forced to choose, I would side with Strauss. But a broader discussion of ontology is required to get to Bulgakov, who is not advocating mere empirical post-physicalism. Far from a criticism, this is simply to voice my hope that Allison will grace us with a follow-up that pushes further in these directions.
Chapter 4 argues that Jesus was followed from place to place by both men and women, and that this mixed company of followers was the primary audience for his warnings about lust, sexual sin, and divorce. If Jesus travelled around, followed by groups of women without husbands, why does it not appear to have caused a scandal? Allison argues that it may have, but the Gospel writers chose not to retain those criticisms. After all, ‘the Gospels are not chronicles of all that happened’ (p. 280).
Chapter 5 revisits the issue of memory studies and what it can and cannot tell us about the synoptic tradition. Chapter 6 critiques the notorious criteria of authenticity. Allison argues for the possibility that Paul, John, and Luke knew each other, which would substantially undermine the criterion of multiple attestation. He then defends his emphasis on central motifs running through the sources rather than individual sayings or events. For Allison, we can say Jesus was the kind of person who did and said certain kinds of things. I, for one, have always found this compelling, not least for how it eschews the false objectivity of criteria-driven approaches.
Since I wrote a book on historical Jesus scholarship, I am frequently asked who in the field is worth reading. I always point them to Allison because of his humility and honesty. He openly changes his mind and is more honest than most about the severe limitations of historical criticism. He rightly insists that being critical need not involve being sceptical and proves an admirable guide to the task.
