I don’t want to suggest that Britt and Wingo are being dishonest in their research, or at least I didn’t when I started this critique. Just like I wouldn’t say most modern apologists are doing such. But regardless of their intention here, the outcome is the same.
On page 232, I think this really comes out. Britt inserts a short piece directly by him. In it, he talks about how Stylo outperformed their expectations, and confirmed not just their theory, that Luke 1-3 would show up as a different author, but that Luke 4 and 24 also did. That they were distinctly not part of the original text.
But as we already discussed, their graph, “Exhibit 1,” demonstrated no such thing. It was an incomplete graph with half of the texts of Acts and Luke missing. It also didn’t neatly lump Luke 1-4 and 24 in with the passages from Luke. Anyone looking at their graph should have been able to see that. That’s not what Britt claims to have seen though. Instead, even though Luke 1,2,4, and 24 were firmly separated from the other Lukan passages, and only Luke 3 was more closely related to some of the passages in Acts, Britt claims the opposite. That these chapters, all of them, show up closer to Acts.
Even if what Britt claimed was true though, it wouldn’t be surprising. Because, after all, tradition, and mainstream scholarship, state that both works are written by the same author. One would expect for the works to be stylistically similar.
What really is telling is that Britt argues that these five chapters in Luke are closer to Acts than the other content found in the “Evangelion.” What content would this be though? Because when we look back at the graph, we don’t see Marcion’s work at all. We see the Gospel of Luke, as we have it today.
No distinction is made between what is written in Luke, and what Marcion’s Gospel contained. One would think that if they really wanted to make this argument, they would have ran Marcion’s Gospel in this analysis as well, or at least, in some way, provide some evidence for their claim. As it stands, it seems as if they are claiming that Marcion’s Gospel contained everything besides those 5 chapters, or at least parts of those chapters.
Now, later on, they do run Marcion’s Gospel against Acts, and we will talk about that when it comes up, but it does show that they are willing to run Marcion’s work in their analysis. So why not do it here? Well, maybe they realize just how much of a problem it would be.
When dealing with the reconstructions of Marcion’s Gospel, a few things stand out that would make such stylometric analysis difficult. First, regardless of your view, Luke and Marcion’s Gospel are largely the same. One is most likely an edit of the other.
We also have the problem that Marcion’s Gospel, while it has been reconstructed in Greek, is largely known from the Latin work of Tertullian. Marcion would have written in Greek. That means either Tertullian was working from a Latin translation, or he was translating from the Greek himself. Roth, in their 2009 article, “Did Tertullian Possess a Greek Copy or Latin Translation of Marcion’s Gospel?” argues that it’s likely he was working from the Greek itself.
Either way though, that means we are already looking at one translation process. But it gets worse because while Tertullian provides most references, he often doesn’t directly cite the passages. Meaning, there is a good deal of ambiguity with Tertullian’s approach here. Not to mention, to get it back into Greek, so that an analysis could even be considered alongside Acts and Luke, would require yet another translation.
There is also a good deal of hypothesizing that goes into such reconstructions. Even when Marcion’s Gospel is quoted directly, the only portions being cited are those that are useful in arguments against Marcion. This means that portions of Marcion’s Gospel that people like Tertullian agreed with most likely aren’t mentioned. That doesn’t mean it wasn’t included, just that we have no attestation to it. In some cases, these portions are left out of the reconstruction, but other times, such as when it appears to be connective content, it is brought back in.
These are all things that the authors should be aware of, as these are the challenges that BeDuhn spells out in his book, “The First New Testament,” which they mention a number of times as a great resource.
Whether they purposely didn’t run Marcion’s Gospel here, or they believe that running Luke is enough, or some other position, what should be clear is that to claim that their stylometric analysis says anything about a work that they didn’t even include is simply baseless. To then claim that their stylometric analysis shows that Luke comes after Marcion’s Gospel, in 144 C.E., is just making things up.
But to then go further and claim that this is a major blow to the idea that the gospels relied on oral tradition, because a century of silence over the material is not just baseless, but a severe misunderstanding of history.
First, if we for a moment accept their results, that the Gospels are post 140 C.E., one still has to make an assumption that there truly was a century of silence. In context here, what Britt really means is that there is a silence of written records. Can we assume that though? No.
Do we have all of the works of Marcion? No. The fact is, we know that there are many written records that have been lost over time. We know what some of these are, such as some of the works associated with Marcion, but we should expect that many more are completely lost.
We also have great examples from history in which we find some written works that we had no idea existed. The Nag Hammadi library is a great example of this, where a number of completely unknown works were discovered. The discovery of the Dead Sea Scrolls produced the same, works that we never knew of.
Or we can look at similar situations with even people like Alexander the Great. We know people wrote about him while he was alive, yet it’s not until centuries later that we hear about those sources. Aristobulus of Cassandreia was a contemporary of Alexander the Great, and wrote one of the primary historical texts about him. We don’t know what the title of this work is, and exactly when he wrote it isn’t known, but it’s often suspected that he wrote it in the 280s B.C.E.
It’s not until the first century, around 200 years later, that we get mentions of that work in Strabo, who wrote around 30 B.C.E. We may have a few earlier indirect attestations to Aristobulus, such as with Diodorus Siculus, but since proper citations were not always common, we can only suspect such. But even then, Diodorus only wrote a few decades prior to Strabo, so it doesn’t close the gap much.
The question then is, did the Gospel writers use earlier sources? We have good reason to believe they did. We know that Matthew and Luke used Mark. Even Britt’s and Wingo’s theory acknowledges the use of previous sources, even if it’s Marcion’s Gospel being used.
The author of Luke also specifically tells us that he used other sources. Meaning we have both indirect and direct evidence that the Gospel writers had in fact used prior sources, including written sources.
All of this just means we can’t claim there was a century of silence. At best, all we could claim is that there was a century in which we have no surviving records. But what about oral tradition in specific? Is it only reliable if it’s less than a century old?
Growing up, I recall hearing stories about either my grandfathers, or at times, my great-grandfathers. Even today, my dad will sometimes talk about his grandfather. My family is not unique in this matter. My wife’s family often talks about prior generations. These are stories that often go back a century or more. I’d wager this is something common among many families.
This information is almost never written down. It’s passed down orally from one generation to another. Yet, we don’t really bat an eye at it. But such anecdotal evidence isn’t always the most convincing. So what does the research say?
John Dominic Crossan, in his book, “The Birth of Christianity,” dedicates an entire section of his work to just this question. There are a few key points that he discusses.
One aspect that we have to realize is that, while when we read the Gospels, we see a story told just a single time, that probably wasn’t the reality of it. Instead, as N.T. Wright states in his book, “Christians Origins and the Question of God; Volume 1:”
“The overwhelming probability is that most of what Jesus said, he said not twice but two hundred times with (of course) a myriad of local variations. The only thing standing in the way of a strong case for Jesus’ teaching being passed on effectively in dozens of streams of oral tradition is prejudice.”
It’s then not a matter of trying to recall a single statement by Jesus, but something else. Because after all, as Wright highlights, these sayings of Jesus most likely had variations. As in, they weren’t repeated exactly the same each and every time.
This leads to one of the major conclusions in regards to oral tradition. As Crossan puts it, “that reconstructive process recalls gist rather than detail, core rather than periphery – and somebody must then decide which is which.”
What this means, and as Crossan argues, is that while oral tradition can be accurate, while it can effectively and authentically pass on information accurately, we have to be aware that what is often truly being passed on is the gist, the heart of the matter. The outside details will change, but the gist of the story, the gist of the message, is often accurately passed on.
Daniel Schacter sums this up nicely in his book, “Searching for Memory;”
“Our memory systems do a remarkably good job of preserving the general contours of our pasts and of recording correctly many of the important things that have happened to us. We could not have evolved as a species otherwise… Yet our stories are built from many different ingredients: snippets of what actually happened, thoughts about what might have happened, and beliefs that guide us as we attempt to remember. Our memories are the fragile but powerful products of what we recall from the past, believe about the present, and imagine about the future.”
Oral tradition can’t simply be dismissed so easily. Yes, we have to be aware of the possible problems that arise from the transmission of this material, but we also have to realize that this information can be accurate. Historians have known this for a long time. As Crossan notes and details in his book, we have studies from the 1930s that were breakthrough studies on this subject, that demonstrated how material was passed on in largely illiterate societies, and how the gist of the material remained rather stable.
In the grand scheme of things though, even if we assume a century passed before the stories were written down, that isn’t an exceptional timeframe. The Rig Veda was passed down for millennia orally before it was written down. Other research has shown the same thing, such as Jan Vansina, in his book, “Oral Tradition,” looking largely at African tribes, confirms that oral tradition can be passed on through generations while remaining stable.
Suffice it to say, even if we assume a century of supposed silence, it really wouldn’t be an issue and isn’t necessarily surprising if one understands the historical context here.
This really ties into the next point that Britt and Wingo make about the book of Acts. The first argument they make about Acts is one from silence. As we saw above, such arguments do not work.
They suggest that there are other internal hints within Acts though, that point to a later dating. Specifically, they look at Acts 16:7, where we are told that the Spirit of Jesus did not allow Paul and his group to go through Bithynia. Britt and Wingo claim this is the only time Paul is prohibited from going to a region. Yet, in Acts 16:6, we are told that Paul had also been forbidden by the Holy Spirit to speak the word in Asia.
Acts tells us that the reason why Paul is even going through the region of Phrygia and Galatia is because he had been forbidden from going to Asia. Britt and Wingo completely ignore this. So why do they focus on Paul being prohibited from going to Bithynia? Because “Bithynia is part of the region in which Marcion’s hometown is located.”
This is technically true, but it’s also stretching the truth. Marcion was from the city of Sinope, which was in the province of Pontus. Originally, Bithynia and Pontus were two separate kingdoms, but they would eventually come under Roman control, creating a double province.
Even after they were merged into one region, they were still often mentioned separately. When we look at Acts specifically, it treats Bithynia and Pontus as separate. In Acts 2:9, Pontus is listed as one of the regions from where Jews had come to Jerusalem for Pentecost. Then in Acts 18:2, we are told that Paul worked alongside a Jewish Christian, named Aquila, who was from Pontus.
Britt and Wingo try to make the argument that what Acts is trying to do is to separate Paul from Marcion. One of the arguments that the authors make is that Marcion is the first to introduce Paul in the 140s. They make this argument by redating every text that mentions Paul to after Marcion, and we will look at that more later on. But the conclusion they make is that the author of Acts is purposely trying to argue that Marcion couldn’t possibly have the true teachings of Paul because Paul never went to Bithynia.
As we see though, the argument fails on a number of points. In order to get to their conclusion, Britt and Wingo have to read their interpretation into the text, and then ignore those things that contradict their view.
Finishing off this section, the authors draw attention to Mark 16, and how it shows up in their “Exhibit 1.” They claim the reason for this is because the same person who wrote Acts and edited Marcion’s Gospel, also wrote the longer ending of Mark.
This is most likely impossible. Before we even get to that point though, we have to discuss the fact that there isn’t just one additional ending that was added to Mark; that there were different endings added by different authors. While there is a longer ending, verses 9-20, there is also a shorter ending that is added in some manuscripts. Depending on the Greek text you’re using, this will also show up. So that is a potential factor here.
There is also the larger issue that even if we exclude the shorter ending, the idea that a shorter section within a chapter could completely change authorship attribution is significant. It means that a possible addition to a text could completely erase the original author’s fingerprints in a stylometric analysis.
In turn, this would invalidate many of the assumptions and arguments that Britt and Wingo have argued. Clearly, the authorial fingerprints that they claim are so strong can be overpowered quite easily. It’s just one more reason to question their take on stylometry.
Ignoring that though, it’s doubtful that this longer ending was even present while the author of Acts was living. It’s not found in any of our earliest and most reliable copies of Mark. And as Bruce Metzger points out in his book, “A Textual Commentary on the Greek New Testament,” “Clement of Alexandria and Origen show no knowledge of the existence of these verses; furthermore Eusebius and Jerome attest that the passage was absent from almost all Greek copies of Mark known to them.”
With Clement and Alexandria and Origen, this would push the dating to at least the 3rd century. If we really dive into the text though, we can see why it has some similarities to Luke. According to James Tabor, in his article, “The ‘Strange’ Ending of the Gospel of Mark and Why It Makes All the Difference,” he shows that “what the forger did was take sections of the endings of Matthew, Luke, and John … and simply create a ‘proper’ ending.”
Meaning, not only does the ending of Mark show similarities to Luke, but also to Matthew and John. For Britt’s and Wingo’s argument to then work, one has to ignore not only these other similarities, but also the historical context that makes it improbable, if not impossible.