It does seem to me that you are reading the absence of data as significant, when such is not necessarily the case.
How significant an absence may be depends on how strongly we should expect a presence. When the topic of discussion is precisely what books are available, a failure to mention particular books is an indication that they were either non-existent, not widely circulated, or not considered of much significance. From the late 2nd century onward, you would not find any Catholic/Orthodox author talking about the scriptures and leaving out some or all of the gospels.
Catholic reading will always be weighted on the side of tradition. If tradition has always assumed 'X', then unless there is a compelling argument not to, the tradition stands.
There is no reason to accept such a bias. We know very well that many religious people are not particularly honest, finding nothing wrong about telling a tall tale to "sell" the faith; and that others who may be perfectly sincere are nonetheless prone to spread the products of their exuberant imaginations as inspirations from God: we see this in mass-circulated e-mails telling what sound to the unbelievers like absurd fantasies, but are received as "gospel" by the faithful. And in the first few centuries AD, many varieties of Christian (as many varieties of Jew had been doing for some time) produced pseudepigrapha by the bushelful, some of worse quality than others to be sure, but just because the books accepted into the NT are generally of better quality than those rejected does not remove the default assumption that they are of similar origin to the bulk of the Christian literature.
Down through history there have been plenty of reasons to show that tradition is not always true. However, that is no reason to discard all, or any of it, purely on a matter of personal doubt or incredulity.
Sure it is. A claim that a book is genuinely from an early author needs to be proven, like any other claim; a statement within the text itself, or by early citers of the book, is evidence for the claim, but not very strong evidence when the text itself is from a tradition so thoroughly permeated by pseudepigraphy, and when the earliest citers are from well after the purported author's death.
What annoys critics is they like to make absolute statements: John did not write the Gospel that bears his name, for example, even though they cannot prove that.
The burden of proof is on the party making the positive claim, that John
did write it.
The Church is a lot more circumspect in what she asserts these days — that the gospel attributed to John the disciple of Christ bears all the marks of a furst-hand eye-witness testimony, a document that has been edited subsequently.
You keep saying that, but you have not cited any such "marks". I have cited for the opposite contention that: the language is not that of a Galilean fisherman, but of an educated native Greek-speaker; the portrayal of John the Baptist is wholly inconsistent with the portrayal of him by other sources; the editing you refer to appears to be a long, multi-layered process in which, in particular, the extended speeches of Jesus look to be late additions.
Wil asked the question: is the portrayal of
John son of Zebedee consistent with the other sources either? Why don't we look at where he shows up in the synoptics, and compare? Two passages come to mind: where Zebedee's wife asks Jesus to make sure that her sons John and James get high-ranking jobs in the new world government and Jesus has to gently let her down about how things work; and where John and James ask Jesus to call down fire and brimstone on some unreceptive towns, and he nicknames them
Boanerges glossed "sons of thunder" (
baney regesh "sons of rumbling"?) and rebukes them, "You don't know what kind of demon you are invoking." None of this shows up in "gospel of John"; rather, this is more reminiscent of Revelation, whose author shows a keen interest in taking over the world and is gleeful about destroying all the enemies; the more sedate author of the gospel is a couple generations of watering-down removed from Thunder Boy.
So if a 5th century scribe was demonstrably proven, that does not render the Gospel invalid. The question then would be, was that scribe working under divine inspiration? Does that seem a cop-out, or a lawyer's way out?
Yes. The 5th century scribe was perpetrating a fraud, passing off his words as coming from an ancient source. The story may be very good and useful (who doesn't like "the woman taken in adultery" story?) but if you believe in a God who practices fraud, there is an unbridgeable gulf between our moralities.
So they come up with a hypothetical document, Q, which by-passes the problem by sleight of hand, and has now assumed a life of its own.
Not one source in 2,000 years mentions such a document. Not one text refers to it. No source speaks of it at all
I disagree. When Papias speaks of "Matthew" as a book of sayings only (contrasted with Mark, a narrative of events), written in the "Hebrew" (he may mean Aramaic salted with some Hebrew words and phrases; ancients were not always precise about linguistic distinctions), with competing translations into Greek none of which have yet been accepted as standard, he is describing "Q", not the canonical Matthew. The combination of this earlier "Matthew" with an altered version of the Markan narrative and a little extra material has to have happened later than Papias (unfortunately we don't know exactly when Papias was writing).
Weaker: the Acts of Barnabas describe Barnabas as circulating the "two books of Matthew", also referring to some earlier stage in the composition of Matthew as we now know it, in which two pieces were kept distinct (the sayings in one book; an altered version of the Markan narrative in another?) I say this is not strong because Acts of Barnabas is a late pseudepigraph (with an absurdly fraudulent claim to be written by Mark), a 4th century effort to establish that the church of Cyprus is ancient and apostolic and therefore deserves to remain independent of Constantinople's pretensions: you object to looking for the political motivations behind texts, but that is essential to figuring out what parts of it might be true; here, I think the "two books of Matthew" most likely to be a genuine preservation of an early tradition
because there is no evident motive for inventing it. Therefore, if scholars want to find a preserved "Q" manuscript, Cyprus would be an excellent place to look.
juantoo3 said:
But there *is* an element of...surprise?...that makes me wonder just what the heck was so special about this particular itinerant radical rabbi that so attracted the Pagan multitude that even the political powers that be couldn't eradicate him outright. In context, the Romans loathed the Jews, so the whole thing is so counter-intuitive that it literally makes absolutely no sense whatsoever...and yet here is Christianity almost two thousand years later.
The ancient religions were all losing their credibility. One function of the myths was to help explain the cosmos, and the myths were not working anymore in that respect, given the advances of science (classical science may seem rather weak to our jaded modern eyes, but it was enough to jolt a lot of people out of animistic credibility). But the main function had been to bind communities together, sanctifying their leaderships and customary laws: Roman rule meant that the Apis bull did not sanctify a Pharoah anymore, and that Ephesians were no longer governed by what Diana's priestesses had to say; and the old communities were becoming more intermingled as people moved around, and the communities' traditions had no authority over the young. In Roman times we find many people desparate from something new to believe in, grabbing gods from far away as if they would be better than their own: Cybele Mother of Syria for some reason was popular in Britain; Anubis the jackal-headed god of death became a fad in Italy; Mithra, from the Parthian Empire, did fairly well all over the Roman Empire (it helped that there was almost no contact with the original Mithra-believers in Parthia, so Roman Mithraism could evolve into something else entirely).
The Jews were, politically, trouble-makers, and often unpopular. But what they had was a source of envy to a lot of thinking Romans: a system of customary law that seemed more based in universal principles than the rather ad-hoc rule-codes of many local paganisms, and which was retaining the allegiance of its community even without a surviving dynasty (sometimes they had their own kings, sometimes not; when they did, their kings were often weak; yet the cohesiveness of the Jews didn't seem affected much either way), and purporting to derive from a god of universal rather than local reach. Converting to Judaism was a difficult and rare step, but there were lots of "Theophiloi" (God-lovers) who supported Jewish synagogues, and read the Jewish scriptures. What Christianity offered was a lot of the Jewish package without a lot of the Jewish baggage: a bonding among people that reached across the divisions of ethnic communities and social classes that kept people apart.