I’ve been reading Thomas P. Rausch’s introduction to Christology called Who Is Jesus? and enjoying it quite a bit. One of the points he emphasizes is the importance of keeping the historical Jesus in view when doing Christology. Any Christology worth its salt has to be connected to and rooted in the person of Jesus of Nazareth, and this entails using (albeit not uncritically) what we can learn from historical research into who Jesus was.
Faith is not based on history, Rausch says. It’s based on an encounter with the living Christ who is the Lord of the Church. To that extent he is in full agreement with those like Luke Timothy Johnson who argue that the “real Jesus” is emphatically not the Jesus of historical reconstructions. And Rausch also agrees in calling into question the Enlightenement assumptions of many historians such as the rejection of the supernatural or treating religion as epiphenomenal on social or economic strutures and forces.
But, he says, we can’t dispense with the historical Jesus. If the Christ of faith is not continuous with the Jesus of history, then what we end up with is a “mythological or ideological construction” of some sort. Fundamentalists and biblical literalists do this by taking refuge in a theory of biblical inerrancy which supposedly guarantees that the words put in Jesus’ mouth in the gospels are identified with the very words he spoke when he was on earth, thus closing the gap between the Jesus of history and the Jesus as presented in the gospels. A more sophisticated version of this strategy is found in what we might call a “postmodern” or “cultural-linguistic” turn. The value of the gospels is located in narrating an identity which the church enters into and questions of historical veracity are, or can seem to be, bracketed or indefinitely deferred.
Rausch instead argues for what he calls a “dialectical Christology,” one which moves between two poles: the Church’s confession of Jesus as risen lord and savior as we find it in the NT, the Creeds, the tradition, and the experience of countless Christian people on the one hand, and, on the other, a firm grounding in “the earthly Jesus, the Jesus made accessible through historical research” (p. 8). This doesn’t mean that Christians should uncritically accept whatever secular scholars claim to have discovered (Rausch is quite critical for instance of the researchers associated with the Jesus Seminar), but that they have to take it seriously.
I think a lot of people are troubled by the idea that Christianity might, in principle, be falsifiable if certain historical facts turned out to be otherwise than we thought them to be. Hence the various attempts to reduce Christianity to a set of “eternal truths” that don’t depend on contingent historical facts or to in some other way put it beyond the reach of historical criticism. But isn’t the dependence on history just another aspect of the scandal of particularity that has dogged Christianity pretty much from the beginning? Presumably God was aware of the risk involved in revealing himself in the midst of human history in all its messy particularity, but still thought it was worth it.
For Christians it matters whether or not the man Jesus of Nazareth is substantially the same person as presented in the gospels. The Church has never been content with a merely mythological Christ-figure, though some forms of theology and devotion may have suggested it at times. If we’re going to be true to the Chalcedonian affirmation that Jesus is true God and true man, we can’t be indifferent to the particularities of the man he was (and is).

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