Perhaps Sherlock Holmes is not the most expected starting place for discussing a book about Judas Iscariot, but the book owes much to Holmes' methods. In light of this fact, I thought it best to present an overview of these methods here, as if recorded by his faithful chronicler, John Watson. This is the first of four such articles, where Holmes is seen presenting his thoughts on the gospels themselves. In the next three articles, Holmes will discuss three of the major players in my novel, The Doomed Disciple: Joseph of Arimathea, Simon the Leper, and finally, Judas Iscariot himself.
I hope you enjoy these fictional memoirs as three fictional characters discuss the reality of Biblical claims, using very real methods to test their validity. For your enjoyment:
A Study in Scarlet Letters
Though the following story does not involve a case, as my other accounts so often do, it does involve a mystery, and I consider the following conversation to be of some interest to those who know my companion's powers of observation and deduction.
I had never before spoken with Holmes about spiritual matters, more than a comment here or there, but I found his perspective to be quite unique and, as always, entirely logical. I have therefore elected to reproduce it to the best of my ability here. Perhaps you may also find some revelation in the perspective of a skeptical consulting detective.
It was a sweltering Sunday afternoon at the peak of summer, when all thoughts turn towards nothing so much as relief from the heat. Holmes and I had retreated from our rooms upstairs, and sat in Mrs. Hudson's foyer on the ground floor in a futile attempt to find some cooler clime. Never before had our street felt to be so aptly named, for we were all three—myself, Holmes, and Mrs. Hudson—practically baking in the heat of Baker Street. It was not often that we enjoyed the company of our patient landlady. Holmes generally preferred solitude when he had no cases on hand to stave off his boredom, but like the animals on the African savanna, we congregated around the cool water of some oasis: in this case, Mrs. Hudson's iced lemonade.
Mrs. Hudson was commenting on the morning's sermon, which had been a fiery discourse upon the absolute inerrancy of scripture and the hellfires which awaited all who questioned it. I turned to my skeptical companion, wondering how a mind such as his could accept the claims of scripture, which on so many occasions had scoffed at the idea of supernatural explanations. “Holmes,” I asked, watching the condensation march southward on my lemonade glass, “what do you make of these modern ideas that the gospels are exaggerated and unreliable? Do you think that our idea of the Christ is little more than a myth, as the theologian David Strauss postulated some years ago?”
Mrs. Hudson gave me a dark look at this question. She was unquestionably a woman of faith, and cared little for any who might cast any shadow of doubt against her beliefs. This included Holmes, who she knew to be a man of facts, far more than faith.
Holmes leaned back upon the couch and smiled at me, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Why, Watson, you have put me in a most delicate position,” he said. “You know me to be a skeptic, and you know Mrs. Hudson to be a devout believer. Your question may very well result in both of us loosing our rental agreement.”
“Oh, posh, Mr. Holmes,” Mrs. Hudson said, waving a hand. “The Bible is true, and that's that. None of your theories will change my mind.”
“I am rather sorry to hear that, my dear landlady,” Holmes said. “A mind that cannot be changed upon the discovery of new facts is a poor weapon in any detective's arsenal, and is often turned upon the one who wields it.”
“Well, I'm no detective,” Mrs. Hudson said coldly.
“Ah, but in this instance, perhaps you should be,” Holmes countered. He had entered one of his scholarly moods, and sat up, steepling his fingers in preparation for a lecture.
I sat up also as an idea struck me. “Why, Holmes, you don't say that your investigative methods can be applied to scripture?” said I.
Holmes smiled slyly. “You know my methods, Watson. Apply them.”
“On a story which is two-thousand years old?”
“Naturally,” Holmes said. “The tools of a detective are easily applied. What do the gospels appear to be but written records of witnesses to these miraculous events? You have observed me questioning witnesses enough to know that any account can be tested for validity.”
“And do you consider them to be myth?” I asked.
He hesitated a moment. “Let us consider the facts before reaching any such conclusions,” he said. “David Strauss is a fine reasoner in his right, but like Lestrade, and half the other inspectors at Scotland Yard, he has a penchant for twisting facts to fit theories, rather than theories to fit facts.”
“And what of the contradictions between them?” I asked. “Surely, the facts are rather on his side there. The gospel writers do not agree on several critical points.”
“It is a rather crucial clue, I admit,” Holmes agreed.
“So you agree with Strauss? You think the contradictions are proof that the accounts are unreliable?”
“On the contrary, Watson. I find it compelling evidence for their reliability.”
“But how can they be without error if they disagree? To believe that is illogical!” I cried.
“I do not believe the accounts are without error,” Holmes said calmly, drawing a judgmental sniff from Mrs. Hudson, “but I do believe them to be reliable.”
“I'm afraid you've quite lost me,” I admitted. “It seems you are now the one twisting facts to fit theories.”
“Does it?” Holmes asked. I could tell I had struck a nerve with him, but I could not pretend that such was not the case. “How many cases have we worked together, Watson? Over a hundred, I would say. And how many of these had witnesses who disagreed on certain points?”
I paused. “Almost all of them.”
“You know that I much prefer to question witnesses separately, rather than together in a single group.”
“Yes,” said I.
“Why is that? When questioning them together would be so much quicker?” Holmes asked.
“You are more likely to get the truth when they are alone.”
“Quite so,” Holmes replied. “But even more than that: the fact is evident, when one has questioned the number of witnesses which you and I have, that eyewitnesses rarely agree upon all points. The exceptions being when they have spoken together and ironed out the inconsistencies among themselves, or if there is some conspiracy and they have all told a formerly agreed upon falsehood. The gospels agree on the major points, and their certain irregularities only convince me that these are genuine eyewitness statements rather than a conspiracy. This is why, Watson, that I greatly prefer these separate stories, with all their inconsistencies, to one polished story which is seamless.”
“You use these inconsistencies to discover the facts,” I said.
“A single witness will usually include details which are lost in a collective narrative—details which are often critical to the case. These inconsistencies, to the detective's mind, are one of the most convincing proofs of their reliability, rather than any proof against it.”
“You're saying that if the disciples had invented the story, there would be no such inconsistencies?”
“Precisely,” Holmes agreed. “You see, Mrs. Hudson? The abilities of a detective are quite useful, even in matters of faith.”
Mrs. Hudson was still rather wary about the idea of pitting Holmes's deductive powers against the reliability of the gospels, but she had not threatened to throw us out on our heads just yet, which I found to be a rather comforting fact. Emboldened by this, I decided to push Holmes a bit further in his reasoning. “But the miracles could have been added later, could they not?” I asked. “Transformed into something which the original followers of Christ did not believe?”
Holmes laughed. “You seem determined to test me today, Watson. Is it the scorching temperature which has ignited these hellish fires within you?” He took a sip of lemonade to cool his throat, and I did the same. “Our theory must fit all the facts, Watson. We must first establish that the data we possess is reliable before we make any inferences.”
“What facts do we possess, Holmes?” I asked.
“There are four which we can establish with reasonable reliability, and from these four we can determine a credible theory.”
“You mean the four gospels?”
“I mean the facts which we can glean from these accounts,” Holmes corrected. “The first is that Jesus died via crucifixion and was buried. The second is that days later, the tomb was found empty, and no body was ever produced after. The disciples believed they had seen Jesus in resurrected form. Whether this belief was true or not, we can be certain that they believed it, because the final fact is that their behavior changed dramatically after this event. No sensible historian would deny these established facts, and from these alone, we can test the likelihood of the resurrection. You will agree, I am sure, Watson, that if we can definitively prove the resurrection, it would establish credibility for the other recorded miracles to fall within the realm of possibility, would it not?”
“That seems logical,” I agreed.
“Let us consider David Strauss's theory, then,” Holmes continued. By now, I was quite caught up by my companion's line of reasoning, and the heat was nearly forgotten. “Strauss believes that the supernatural elements were added later. It would be easy enough to explain only the empty tomb through this theory, but the resurrection was a key element of the first Christian creed as recorded by the apostle Paul—who was originally quite a skeptic, as well, if you recall. The students of the apostles also confirmed that the resurrection was a key element of their testimony. In fact, the resurrection seems intrinsically linked to the account from the very beginning. It would also be absurd for the apostles to act as they did, facing torture and death, if there was no hope of resurrection already instilled in their minds. We can therefore eliminate the idea that the stories have become distorted over time, at least regarding the resurrection, and this also confirms that the disciples were not lying, as we established before.”
“I cannot find any flaw in your logic,” I admitted. “But they could have been mistaken in their belief.”
“If their belief came from a delusion, then what became of the corpse?” Holmes asked. “No such corpse was ever produced. Besides, the accounts record multiple sightings on multiple occasions. The accounts also state quite emphatically that some of the disciples were initially skeptical. The evidence these men saw was enough to convince even the skeptics among them, and to convince others that they were not simply delusional fools. Under investigation, the claim that the disciples were delusional falls apart quite rapidly.”
“They could have been tricked,” I suggested. Perhaps it was the heat, as Holmes had suggested, but I felt it my duty to play the devil's advocate.
“Again, Watson, you fail to account for the missing corpse. And, I might ask, who would seek to continue the sect of Christianity besides one of Christ's disciples? If one was mysteriously absent whenever Christ appeared, it would arouse suspicion, would it not? Con-men are rarely successful when their dupe knows the subject on which he is being conned. This impostor would need to know Jesus so well as to convince men who have been in his company for the last several years. A trickster with such abilities would put even my powers of disguise to shame. And do not forget that the skeptical Thomas refused to believe until he had touched the wounds in his master's hands. Would a con-man be so dedicated to his trade that he would inflict such wounds upon himself?”
“I suppose not,” I admitted.
“And to what end?” Holmes continued. “A con always has some reward in it. The disciples had little money, power, or influence—not when the con would have taken place—and were facing certain death if they continued in the path of their master. There is no reward for such an elaborate con job. The idea falls apart quite quickly with only a little scrutiny.”
“I see...” I said slowly. “If the writings could not have been embellished later, and the writers were not delusional, nor tricked, nor lying...”
Holmes nodded. “I have told you before, Watson, that if you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth. The only possibility which retains any sort of credibility is that the gospel writers were accurately describing what they witnessed. Every theory postulated to discredit them falls apart quite rapidly when one applies the tools of the detective, while the theory of reliability has only one flaw: it requires one to accept the supernatural.”
“So you are a man of faith!” I exclaimed.
“I am a man of reason,” Holmes replied. “I am not quick to ascribe supernatural causes to natural events, as you know, but every natural explanation fails to account for all the facts which we can reasonably establish. Therefore, the supernatural explanation becomes the only remaining theory with any reasonable possibility. The theory that the gospels are accurate and reliable can reconcile all the facts in a far more reasonable manner than any of the others. By eliminating the impossible, we have established that the supernatural, though perhaps improbable, is the only remaining possibility. We can investigate the remaining inconsistencies in the accounts and quite often reconcile them to create a cohesive narrative of events. It is the details which allow us to do so, which would be quite impossible if there were not four contradictory accounts. These contradictions are, of course, trifles, but there is nothing so important as trifles.”
“Well, Mr. Holmes,” Mrs. Hudson said, “I must admit that you may be correct; there may be more in common with the theologian and the detective than I at first thought.”
Holmes shook his head. “Would that such were the case, Mrs. Hudson,” he said sadly, “but if theologians thought more like detectives, many of them would be vastly improved by it.” He leaned back against the couch with a sigh. “Perhaps one day another inspector will apply my methods more thoroughly, and write a treatise upon the subject,” he mused. “In the meantime, Watson, go and fetch my Stradivarius from upstairs; I feel that a little music would cool our minds after these rigors of intellectual exercise.”
“A wonderful idea!” I exclaimed, standing to my feet. “Perhaps, in lieu of the present subject, I might recommend a hymn?”
Holmes grunted in approbation. “Any suggestions, Mrs. Hudson?” he asked amiably.
“Whatever you wish, Mr. Holmes,” she replied.
Holmes nodded in thought. “I may have just the song, my dear Mrs. Hudson: one written by Charles Wesley. Perhaps you can guess the title.”
For more information on these people or my novels, check out these links:
The Doomed Disciple, by Paul Campbell
Grayscale by Paul Campbell
The Complete Annotated Sherlock Holmes, by William S. Baring-Gould
Cold-Case Christianity, by J. Warner Wallace
Much thanks to J. Warner Wallace's research for this article. Like Sherlock Holmes, Wallace is a retired cold-case homicide detective, and became a Christian by applying his investigative skills to test the gospel accounts. Unsurprisingly, they check every box for reliable eyewitness testimony. He has many blogs, youtube videos, podcasts, and several books about this very subject, and I highly recommend his research to any armchair detectives like myself. To learn more about J. Warner Wallace, visit www.coldcasechristianity.com
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