Tunnel Vision:

A Response to Edward Tabash’s Review of the Carrier-Licona Debate 

By David Wood 

Scholarly debates offer an excellent combination of up-to-date arguments and intellectual competition. They are also helpful in overcoming a certain type of academic abuse that is all too common in our academia-worshipping society. To illustrate, consider an uninformed but honest truth-seeker who wants to learn something about Christianity. He picks up a book by Elaine Pagels from his local bookstore, not realizing that her ideas are among the most radical, illogical, and unscholarly ideas in the world.  But because her ideas remain unchallenged throughout the book, the seeker may think that Elaine’s views are credible. He then walks away not only uninformed, but misinformed. A debate would prevent such abuse, for the seeker would see that little in Elaine’s position can stand up to scrutiny. 

Nevertheless, despite their importance, debates have a downside. First, many people (from all systems of belief) see what they want to see when they watch a debate. Over and over again I’ve been shocked to see well-educated people walk away from incredibly one-sided debates confidently proclaiming that their obviously defeated hero has somehow achieved a tremendous victory. Second, many people (regardless of theological perspective) aren’t able to follow the arguments very well. Since they can’t follow the arguments, they rate the contenders based on who was nicer, who was taller, who had more confidence, or, again, who said what they wanted to hear.  

While these two shortcomings may cause us to question the value of public debates, the benefits  certainly outweigh the drawbacks.  However, there is something even more disturbing than the two problems already noted. Edward Tabash recently posted a review of the Carrier-Licona debate (“On the Resurrection of Jesus Christ”) on infidels.org. Tabash, as I will demonstrate in this article, is among the debate viewers who see what they want to see and aren’t able to follow the arguments. The shocking thing is that Tabash unhesitatingly reviewed a debate that he obviously didn’t understand. Even worse, he criticizes both contenders based on his own misinterpretations of their arguments, and, as if this weren’t bad enough, he offers his own horribly flawed arguments as a substitute for Carrier’s position. 

In order to fully grasp the problems in Tabash’s article, I will have to review and comment on the arguments of Mike Licona and Richard Carrier. This will allow us to assess the strengths and weaknesses of each contender, and to evaluate Tabash’s review accurately.  

Review of the Debate 

Mike’s position is clear and easy to outline. He begins by arguing for three historical facts: 

Fact #1: Jesus died on the cross by crucifixion;

Fact #2: His tomb was later found empty; and

Fact #3: His followers (and others) were convinced that they saw him alive afterwards. 

Given these facts, Mike presents the following argument (condensed and put into syllogistic form by me): 

Premise One: If no naturalistic theories can plausibly account for these three facts, it is rational to posit a supernatural explanation, provided the explanation has religious significance.

Premise Two: No naturalistic theories can account for these three facts.

Conclusion: Thus, it is rational to posit a supernatural explanation, provided the explanation has religious significance.  

The logical form of Mike’s argument is indisputable (straightforward modus ponens), so any objection to the argument will have to show either that some of his facts are wrong or that at least one of his premises is false. Richard understandably attempts to do both. While Richard grants Jesus’ death and the experiences of the early Christians, he does his best to raise doubts about the empty tomb. The bulk of his presentation is dedicated to disputing Mike’s second fact and his second premise. Indeed, if Richard can show that there exists a naturalistic theory that accounts for the facts as easily as the resurrection does, Mike’s conclusion falls to pieces. Thus, Richard argues for a theory he believes is more probable than the resurrection, namely, that belief in Jesus’ bodily resurrection evolved over a period of several decades. 

Richard displays a great deal of courage in defending this evolution theory, especially since recent scholarly work on the creed in 1 Corinthians 15 has shown that many of the fundamental Christian doctrines can be traced back to the earliest period of Christianity. The evolution theory holds that Christianity developed over a long period of time; the creed in 1 Corinthians proves that Christians have always held, at the very least, “that Christ died for our sins according to the Scriptures, and that He was buried, and that He was raised on the third day according to the Scriptures, and that He appeared”[1] to numerous people, friend and foe, groups and individuals. To his credit, Richard noticed prior to the debate that this creed destroys his theory. That is, the evolution theory falls victim to the following argument: 

Premise One: If the earliest Christians believed in Jesus’ death and resurrection, then these beliefs obviously did not develop decades later.

Premise Two: The 1 Corinthians 15 creed shows that the earliest Christians believed in Jesus’ death and resurrection.

Conclusion: Therefore, these beliefs obviously did not develop decades later. 

The logic here is also indisputable, so any objection will have to take issue with one or both of the premises. And this is exactly what Richard does. Against overwhelming odds, Richard attacks the second premise by arguing that the earliest Christians (including Paul) believed that Jesus had risen in some sense, but not in the same body. Since Richard’s position stands or falls with Paul’s belief about Jesus’ resurrection, much of the debate naturally focuses on this area. This puts a tremendous burden of proof on Richard, for he argues that Paul, a self-proclaimed “Hebrew of Hebrews,” held a view of resurrection utterly contrary to that of the Pharisees. Richard maintains that Paul’s belief was similar to that of the Essenes, even though Paul was one of the most zealous first century defenders of the traditions of his own party. 

To support his position, Richard invents his own fanciful translation of 1 Corinthians 15, in which he does his best to work around some of the obvious implications of the passage, namely, that Paul was advocating the orthodox view of resurrection. While Richard makes a heroic attempt to support his ideas, his arguments fall dreadfully short of establishing that Paul held an unorthodox view.  

Richard translates 1 Corinthians 15 with difficulty. Consider his abridgement beginning at verse 42: “So also is the resurrection of the dead . . . A natural body is sown, but a spiritual body is raised.” Richard leaves out a portion of the text, possibly for brevity, but probably because his translation would be quite awkward if he were to consistently leave out the grammatically implied subjects. Here is what his translation looks like when we demand consistency:  

So also the resurrection of the dead. In corruption is sown, in incorruption is raised; in dishonor is sown, in glory is raised; in weakness is sown, in power is raised; a natural body is sown, a spiritual body is raised. If a natural body is, a spiritual body is. 

Notice that, if we remove the implied subjects, the first few clauses don’t have subjects and the entire passage sounds a little strange. Compare that with a translation that includes the implied subjects: 

So also is the resurrection of the dead. It is sown a perishable body, it is raised an imperishable body; it is sown in dishonor, it is raised in glory; it is sown in weakness, it is raised in power; it is sown a natural body, it is raised a spiritual body. If there is a natural body, there is also a spiritual body.[2] 

This is much clearer than Richard’s version, which is why the vast majority of translators use the implied subject “it” when they translate this passage. Richard, however, has an agenda. If his evolution theory is to stand, he must prove that Paul didn’t have an orthodox view of the Resurrection. Thus the odd translation. 

Mike correctly points out that Paul’s position on the Resurrection is clear from his other writings, such as Romans 8:11, where he proclaims, 

But if the Spirit of Him who raised Jesus from the dead dwells in you, He who raised Christ Jesus from the dead will also give life to your mortal bodies through His Spirit who dwells in you.  

Richard responds by arguing that Paul isn’t referring to resurrection in this passage. Instead, he is talking about our “present experience of the Kingdom,” “our lives in the here and now.” 

Richard’s claim is obviously flawed, for just a few verses later, after declaring that all of creation is in bondage to corruption, Paul says, 

And not only this, but also we ourselves, having the first fruits of the Spirit, even we ourselves groan within ourselves, waiting eagerly for our adoption as sons, the redemption of our body.[3]  

This is clearly a future event, and it ties in with Paul’s earlier statement that God will give life to our “mortal bodies.” According to Paul, our bodies are dead because they are still part of a creation that is in bondage to corruption. Even though the Spirit dwells within us, our bodies are dead because they haven’t yet been resurrected (as Jesus has). But God will give life to our bodies, just as he gave life to Jesus’ body. We all look forward to this redemption. 

Of course, Richard ignores the straightforward theology presented by Paul in 1 Corinthians 15 and Romans 8. He supports his “exchange” view by appealing to verses from 2 Corinthians 4-5; this turns out to be his strongest argument, for 2 Corinthians 5 seems consistent with Richard’s interpretation: 

For we know that if the earthly tent which is our house is torn down, we have a building from God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens. For indeed in this house we groan, longing to be clothed with our dwelling from heaven, inasmuch as we, having put it on, will not be found naked. For indeed while we are in this tent, we groan, being burdened, because we do not want to be unclothed but to be clothed, so that what is mortal will be swallowed up by life.[4] 

However, Richard almost destroys his credibility by appealing to N.T. Wright for support: 

The clincher is this: Mike cites N.T. Wright’s monumental treatise on this subject, but evidently Mike didn’t read it. I quote from that very book. Wright says, “it is no doubt right that Paul can envisage here the possibility of ‘exchange’ (losing one body, getting another one) rather than ‘addition’.” 

Richard’s quotation convinces the audience that Wright supports the exchange view. However, watch what happens when we quote the sentence along with a part that Richard left out: 

Thus, though Moule is no doubt right that Paul can envisage here the possibility of ‘exchange’ (losing one body, getting another one) rather than ‘addition’, as in 1 Corinthians 15, we should not lose sight of the fact that even if such an ‘exchange’ were to take place the new body would be more than the present one.”[5]  

Wright states that in 2 Corinthians 5 Paul may be able to imagine an “exchange,” in contrast to 1 Corinthians 15, where Paul obviously has an “addition” (i.e. adding immortality to our present bodies) in mind. This is interesting because Richard is quoting 2 Corinthians to support his bizarre translation of 1 Corinthians 15. Thus, to sustain his claim that Paul believed in an exchange of bodies, Richard (1) provides an awkward translation of 1 Corinthians 15, (2) supports his translation with a passage from 2 Corinthians 5, (3) quotes N.T. Wright to show that Wright agrees with his interpretation of 2 Corinthians 5, (4) omits the part where Wright refutes Richard’s translation of 1 Corinthians 15, and (5) insults his opponent, suggesting that Mike hasn’t read the book. 

Wright fully understands Paul’s view of the resurrection. In his section on 1 Corinthians 15 he states, 

[Paul’s theology] is, clearly, a theology in which the present physical body is not to be abandoned, nor yet to be affirmed as it stands, but is to be transformed, changed from present humiliation to new glory (Philippians 3.21), from present corruption and mortality to new incorruption and immortality. This is indeed the defeat of death, not a compromise in which death is allowed to have the body [Richard’s view] while some other aspect of the human being (the soul? the spirit?) goes marching on.[6] 

But if Paul believed that our current bodies will be clothed with immortality, what are we to make of the apparent “exchange” view in 2 Corinthians 5? Contrary to what Richard implies with his quotation, Wright does not wholly endorse Moule’s view of 2 Corinthians 4-5: 

The central segment of the central passage of this resurrection-centered letter [2 Corinthians], then, does not depart from the picture we have seen throughout Paul. He looks forward to eventual bodily resurrection, to a new body which will have left behind the decay and corruption of the present one, and which will function in relation to present life like a new and larger suit of clothes to be put on over the existing ones.[7] 

An exchange view would be allowable if 2 Corinthians were our only surviving letter from Paul. But it isn’t. We have Romans, in which Paul tells us that God will give life to our mortal bodies and that we eagerly await this redemption; we also have 1 Corinthians, in which Paul says that “this perishable must put on the imperishable, and this mortal must put on immortality.”[8] Indeed, 1 Corinthians 15 is completely clear when we keep in mind two basic facts:  

(1) Paul’s theology was heavily influenced by his Jewish background, which demanded that the body that dies must rise in resurrection; and

(2) Paul was talking to people from Corinth, who, influenced by Plato and others, viewed the body as a prison from which the soul would one day escape. 

It isn’t difficult to imagine the problem that would almost immediately arise. The apostles go to Corinth, preaching that Jesus has risen from the dead. The newly converted Christians then go around preaching the same message to others. However, some would interpret this message in a manner consistent with their Greek view of the body—Jesus rose spiritually, not with the same body that died. That is, some of the Corinthians would have believed in the risen Jesus without believing in his resurrection. In 1 Corinthians 15, Paul sets out to correct the mistake: 

Now if Christ is preached, that He has been raised from the dead, how do some among you say that there is no resurrection from the dead? But if there is no resurrection of the dead, not even Christ has been raised.[9] 

In other words, “If I, Paul, a Jew with a Jewish theology, preached to you that Jesus rose from the dead, how can some of you reject the resurrection, which is what we Jews mean when we say that Jesus rose from the dead?” Remember, Paul is talking to Christians here, so his readers must have believed that Jesus had risen from the dead. Nevertheless, they were denying the resurrection, meaning that they rejected the idea that the body rises with the spirit. The natural question for a Greek would be, “How in the world can a body come back to life? Will it be the same as it is now? That just doesn’t make sense to us!”  Paul answers these very questions: 

But someone will say, “How are the dead raised? And with what kind of body do they come?” You fool! That which you sow does not come to life unless it dies; and that which you sow, you do not sow the body which is to be, but a bare grain, perhaps of wheat or of something else. But God gives it a body just as He wished, and to each of the seeds a body of its own. . . . So also is the resurrection of the dead. It is sown a perishable body, it is raised an imperishable body; it is sown in dishonor, it is raised in glory; it is sown in weakness, it is raised in power; it is sown a natural body, it is raised a spiritual body.[10] 

Paul talks about a seed being planted. The seed isn’t the plant that it will one day become; nevertheless, there is continuity. There is never a stage when the seed suddenly disappears and a new body appears.  While the final state of the plant is different from the original state of the seed, the plant is continuous with what is sown. “So also is the resurrection of the dead.” What is sown? A perishable, dishonorable, weak, natural body. What is raised? An imperishable, glorious, powerful, spiritual body. Were the bodies exchanged, the one for the other? No. Just as in the case of the seed that is planted, there is continuity between the body that is sown and the body that is raised. The body is changed, not exchanged: 

Behold, I tell you a mystery; we will not all sleep, but we will all be changed, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet; for the trumpet will sound, and the dead will be raised imperishable, and we will be changed. For this perishable must put on the imperishable, and this mortal must put on immortality. But when this perishable will have put on the imperishable, and this mortal will have put on immortality, then will come about the saying that is written, “DEATH IS SWALLOWED UP in victory. O DEATH, WHERE IS YOUR VICTORY? O DEATH, WHERE IS YOUR STING?”[11] 

Corruptible, decaying flesh and blood, as it is now, cannot inherit the kingdom of God. We must be clothed with immortality. Our bodies will be sown, and God will give them their final, glorious forms. Nothing could be more obvious after reading 1 Corinthians. Throughout the chapter, Paul is railing against the idea of a mere spiritual resurrection, one that doesn’t include the body that is sown.  

Now recall Richard’s first point: “Number one, Paul contradicts the Gospels of Luke and John by describing a spiritual resurrection.”  Here is a truly amazing thing. Paul spends an entire chapter refuting the idea of a spiritual resurrection, then Richard reads it and concludes, “Wow! Paul believes in a spiritual resurrection!” That would be like me watching Richard’s opening statement and saying, “What an outstanding defender of Christianity!” 

One thing is certain. Richard’s defense of the exchange view fails. Neither 1 Corinthians, nor Romans, nor N.T. Wright’s book, nor the Jewish concept of resurrection, nor our knowledge of early Christian beliefs allows Richard’s interpretation. The only passage that could help him, 2 Corinthians 4-5, is ambiguous. Thus Richard’s argument fails. Now watch what happens when we keep this in mind as we evaluate the debate. 

Richard defends the exchange view because he is trying to refute Mike’s second premise (i.e. that naturalistic theories cannot account for the facts).  Richard thus puts forward a naturalistic theory, “the one theory I think is most probably correct,” and maintains that Christian belief evolved over a period of several decades. Yet Richard’s theory is several decades out of date, for evidence provided by the creed in 1 Corinthians proves that the early Christians believed in Christ’s death, burial, resurrection, and appearances. Richard tries to get around this by arguing that Paul and the other early Christians, contrary to their Jewish background, held to an exchange view of resurrection. He attempts to show this by quoting several passages from Paul, but, in the end, his arguments fall short, because Paul obviously believed that the present body will be clothed with immortality. This means that we have no reason to think that the early Christians believed that our bodies will be exchanged. Since we know that orthodox Jews believed that the body that dies will be raised, and since we also know that the same view is proclaimed in the Gospels, it makes no sense at all to think that the early Christians went from the orthodox position, to an exchange view, and back to an orthodox position. Unless we have good evidence to the contrary, we have to take early Christian belief for what it seems to have been: The body that dies is raised. 

We also know that the early Christians were proclaiming Jesus’ resurrection. Here’s where Richard’s entire position comes crumbling to the ground. The early disciples concluded that Jesus had been resurrected. Yet Jews would never have said “resurrection” unless there had been an overwhelming reason to believe that Jesus’ body had been raised. Hence, even if we didn’t have numerous records of the empty tomb, we would have to posit one because of early Christian belief. (Richard’s claims that Mark invented the empty tomb as a symbol of Jesus’ empty body and that Matthew was only trying to rewrite the story of Daniel in the lion’s den do little to weaken this argument.) The Jews (especially a rabbi like Paul) would only say “resurrection” if three criteria had been met:  

(1) Jesus died;

(2) Jesus’ body was missing;

(3) They believed that Jesus had appeared to them bodily. 

You may recognize these as Mike’s three facts, which now appear stronger than ever. Since Richard grants (1) and (3), only (2) is in dispute. However, by arguing that the early Christians viewed resurrection as an exchange, Richard unwittingly reveals the strong evidence for their belief in bodily (same body) resurrection. Since Richard’s idea of an exchange view in the early church is at odds with all of the available data, we must conclude that the early Christians held the orthodox view; and they wouldn’t have concluded this without an empty tomb. This means that all three of Mike’s facts still stand. 

But what about Mike’s argument? As we have seen, Richard’s naturalistic explanation fails miserably. His exchange view is untenable given Paul’s writings in Romans and 1 Corinthians. Beyond this, Richard’s view requires belief in numerous hallucinations by Christianity’s friends and foes alike. This only multiplies the implausibility of the naturalistic theory he holds to be “most probably correct.” Hence, Mike’s argument remains unrefuted. 

Without a doubt, Richard lost the debate. By the end of the evening, nearly all of Mike’s points remained intact, while Richard’s points practically collapsed from their own weakness. This doesn’t mean that Richard’s loss was obvious to everyone, however. I’m basing my judgment on content, not on people’s impressions of the debate. Indeed, if I were to base my judgment on impressions, I’d probably say that the debate was very close. Richard appeared to know what he was talking about, and his arguments seemed strong, so few in the audience would have recognized the flaws inherent in his position. In retrospect, I think that audience recognition of Mike’s victory was directly proportional to the audience members’ background knowledge and reasoning ability. For instance, I watched the debate with an agnostic friend, who had recently been studying early Christianity and was a philosophy major. Because of Zach’s familiarity with the evidence, he scored the debate 75 to 25 in favor of Mike (Zach is now a Christian).  As it turns out, Zach was much more perceptive than I was at our first viewing, for, after being taken in by Richard’s confidence, I thought the debate was remarkably close (55-45, Mike). Nevertheless, after sifting through the evidence, and examining and weighing the arguments, I would now put it at 90 to 10, a clear victory for Mike. 

Enter: Edward Tabash 

Edward Tabash sees things differently. In his review for infidels.org,[12] Tabash says that Richard’s arguments “were enough to clearly win the debate, in my opinion.” 

Either Tabash wasn’t paying very close attention to the arguments in the debate or he just doesn’t understand them. He argues that Mike and Richard spent too much time discussing what Paul meant by “resurrection” (same body or something else?). But this was the central point of the debate! As we have seen, Richard’s entire position rested on his ability to show that Paul held an unorthodox view of resurrection. In order to show that there is a plausible natural explanation of the facts, Richard had to explain the disciples’ early belief in Jesus resurrection. He put forward an evolutionary explanation, and this explanation had to be defended. Moreover, since Richard’s position is so incredibly contrary to what we know about early Christian belief, he was forced into spending a great deal of time defending it.  

Tabash somehow misses this and concludes that Mike and Richard were quibbling over an insignificant point. He feels that Carrier would have done better if only he had focused more on “the tremendous improbability of the supernatural” (i.e. Richard should have focused his attack on Premise One of Mike’s argument). This means one of two things. Either Tabash doesn’t understand the importance of the point, or he feels that Richard’s argument failed and that Richard should have therefore spent his time elsewhere. If it is the latter, Tabash and I are in complete agreement here—Richard’s argument didn’t work, so he should have used something else. 

After declaring that Richard should have focused on the improbability of the supernatural, Tabash abruptly shifts to his own critique of the resurrection, which Carrier (according to Tabash) presumably should have used. However, both Tabash’s critique of the resurrection and his critique of the debate are filled with flaws, making him an unreliable reviewer. Consider just a few of his errors: 

(1) Irrelevant ad hominem. In his review, Tabash calls Mike a “fundamentalist” and goes out of his way to point out that Mike went to “Jerry Falwell’s Liberty University” (rather than just “Liberty University,” the school’s name). Tabash is trying to bias his readers, most likely to keep them from seriously considering Mike’s arguments. Apparently, Christians who go to Christian schools are unreliable, while atheists who go to secular schools are trustworthy. Nevertheless, atheists should stay away from this sort of name calling, for it can only backfire. For instance, suppose that a reader, after examining Tabash’s review, concludes that Mike is a backwards, uneducated, closed-minded, fundamentalist idiot who believes in a flat-earth, and that Richard is the most brilliant human being who has ever lived. What happens when such a reader watches the debate? If he is intelligent, he will see that the closed-minded fundamentalist won a debate against the most brilliant person in the universe. Further, he will see that the backwards fundamentalist had strong evidence on his side, while the brilliant atheist had to resort to implausible interpretations of the evidence and speculations about mass hallucinations. The reader might then conclude that the only way a fundamentalist could ever win a debate against a brilliant atheist would be that his case just happened to be much stronger. Tabash’s ad hominems, then, might actually convince intelligent readers that Jesus rose from the dead. 

(2) Strained analogy. Tabash compares Jesus’ resurrection to a miracle in which Schmuckananda from India is escorted to heaven by one hundred pink elephants. This is what logicians refer to as a “strained analogy.” True, both resurrections would involve the supernatural, but Tabash adds something that makes the two cases clearly different. The resurrection of Jesus requires the existence of God. One hundred flying pink elephants would require the existence of a God who is silly. Tabash wants us to believe that the two cases are identical (i.e. that all miracles are silly), but they aren’t. The resurrection of Jesus serves a clear purpose (confirming the extraordinary claims of Jesus) without the added silliness, and so it makes sense to think that God (if he exists) would perform such a miracle. What would be the purpose of a hundred flying pink elephants? What would it confirm? It may confirm the existence of the supernatural, but we would think the supernatural to be very odd indeed.  

If an argument from analogy is to be effective (in more than just the minds of atheists), it must avoid this sort of strain. Thus, if Tabash wants to compare God raising Jesus from the dead to something else, he should compare it to something that resembles it, such as God miraculously healing someone. 

(3) Misquotation. Consider Tabash’s critique of one of Mike’s arguments: 

Licona said that these events were more likely to have supernatural connotations because everything occurred in an atmosphere charged with religion. But it is precisely because everything occurred in such an atmosphere that a will to believe and a gullibility toward the supernatural motivated people to both claim and believe false magical assertions. 

The problem here is that Mike never claimed that “everything occurred in an atmosphere charged with religion.” He claimed that it occurred in an atmosphere “charged with religious significance.” Tabash misquotes him, and thus changes the meaning of his argument. But Mike’s point is an important one. Since Tabash didn’t understand it, I will explain if briefly. 

When we’re investigating a miracle claim, it helps if the miracle under investigation has some sort of religious significance to it. It seems like miracles should have some purpose, and if we can see a clear reason why God would perform a certain miracle, this tends to weigh in favor of it. (Thus the difference between the Resurrection and Tabash’s pink elephants.) 

In the most famous critique of miracles ever, Hume presents a clever scenario: 

But suppose, that all the historians who treat of England, should agree, that, on the first of January 1600, Queen Elizabeth died; that both before and after her death she was seen by her physicians and the whole court, as is usual with persons of her rank; that her successor was acknowledged and proclaimed by the parliament; and that, after being interred a month, she again appeared, resumed the throne, and governed England for three years: I must confess that I should be surprised at the concurrence of so many odd circumstances, but should not have the least inclination to believe so miraculous an event.[13]  

Here Hume is trying to give a parallel to the evidence for the resurrection. But something is missing. There’s no significance in this miracle. Why would God raise Queen Elizabeth? To show us that he likes her? Even if he did raise her, what would it have to do with us? There seems to be no significance here. Similarly, I recall that, whenever the topic of miracles would come up in class, one of my philosophy professors would say, “Well, what if your neighbor came up to you and said that he’d just had a long conversation with a giant beetle? You wouldn’t believe him, would you?” No, I wouldn’t. But again, there’s something missing. There’s no point to it. 

Let me offer another example. A couple of months ago, my best friend had a dream. In the dream, he was standing outside a door, and I was inside the door, eating a nice dinner. So he said to me, “Hey, what are you doing? You were supposed to have dinner with me!” Then I turned to him and said, “I invited you, but you never responded.” Now what does that mean? It sounds like it was just a dream. So what? But let me put that dream into context. My best friend, Nabeel, is a Muslim, and we’ve been talking about Christianity versus Islam for the past four years. Nabeel realizes that the evidence points to Christianity, but it’s hard for him to convert, because in his culture, rejecting Islam is very, very bad. He’s also very close to his family, but becoming a Christian would strain that relationship. A few months ago, he prayed and asked God to give him a dream to let him know whether or not Christianity is true. Then he had a dream about standing outside a feast, while I was at the feast. He asked why I wasn’t feasting with him, and I replied, “I invited you, but you never responded.” Now the dream has significance.[14] It occurred after he prayed to God for a dream. In addition, he had two more dreams that pointed towards Christianity, dreams that also came after praying for God to show him what to do. So without some religious context, dreams are dreams. But when they occur in a situation charged with religious significance, we have at least some reason to think that they might be more than “just dreams.”  

The Resurrection of Jesus is an event that has tremendous religious significance. Jesus was killed because he had made certain claims that only God should make. He upset so many people that they crucified him. If he was wrong, so what? But if he was right, and he really was divine, and he came to save us from our sins, God had a good reason to raise Jesus from the dead: It showed us that Jesus is the Way, and the Truth, and the Life. Yet Tabash argues that this religious significance makes the case for the Resurrection even weaker! 

(4) Circular reasoning. Tabash, like Hume, begins with the assumption that miracles have never occurred. He criticizes Carrier for not pointing out how utterly improbable miraculous events are, based on the idea that we have no evidence for miraculous events. But what is the topic under investigation in the debate? The debate is about whether a miracle has occurred! According to Tabash, then, the debate should have gone something like this: 

Carrier: Jesus couldn’t have risen from the dead, because miracles don’t happen!

Licona: How do you know that miracles don’t happen?

Carrier: Because there’s no evidence for them!

Licona: But what about the evidence I’m presenting now!

Carrier: That evidence doesn’t matter!

Licona: Why not?

Carrier: Because miracles don’t occur!

Licona: But how do you know that?

Carrier: Because there’s no evidence for them!

Licona: But we’re discussing the evidence now.

Carrier: I already told you that this evidence doesn’t matter, because miracles don’t occur!

(And so on, and so on, ad infinitum.) 

Tabash: What an awesome debate! 

While this sort of debate would have left some atheists (such as Tabash) satisfied, it would have been repulsive to audience members who have a foundation in critical thinking. Richard realized that his argument from evolution is problematic, and he tried to adjust the evidence accordingly. This is a bad strategy, but it’s certainly better than coming out with a bunch of logical fallacies and passing them off as intelligent arguments. Richard at least tried to keep things on a scholarly level. He failed, but it was only because the evidence was so overwhelmingly against him. 

Besides, Richard did argue that miracles are improbable. In his fourth and seventh points, Richard argued that “the probability that any amazing story will be false is higher than the probability it will be true” and that “genuine supernatural encounters must be extraordinarily rare.” Richard argued these points without going overboard on them. He spent the rest of his time arguing against Mike’s position and supporting his own. Yet this wasn’t enough for Tabash, who feels that Richard should have taken time away from his other arguments and focused more on the improbability of miracles. Again, Richard made this point several times, so Tabash must feel that Richard should have spent his time repeating himself. The debate, then, should have gone something like this: 

Carrier: Miracles are improbable.

Licona: But what about the evidence I’ve shown tonight?

Carrier: Miracles are improbable.

Licona: But I argued for three facts and you haven’t offered a plausible explanation that accounts for them.

Carrier: Miracles are improbable.

Licona: Right, but we have strong evidence in this case. If you want to show that I’m wrong, you need to argue against the evidence I’ve presented.

Carrier: Miracles are improbable. 

This may seem comical, but it is exactly the sort of foot-stomping repetition that we find in Tabash’s review: 

I wish Richard Carrier had invoked his general arguments against the supernatural more pointedly than he did. 

Of course, this completely ignores the enormous odds against such a supernatural event. 

[W]e have no scientific evidence that supernatural events have ever taken place. 

Licona never refuted Carrier’s point that humanity has never come across a single scientifically confirmed case of the supernatural. 

Such agreement would not overcome the presumption against miracles that follows from the absence of any verifiable supernatural occurrence in human history. 

[W]e have no reliable evidence for the actual occurrence of any supernatural event, ever. 

Carrier’s victory would have been even more devastating if he had just said definitively that his arguments against the supernatural make the Resurrection extremely unlikely. 

While Carrier’s entire presentation was certainly pregnant with criticisms of supernaturalism, he could have really driven home the point if he had simply said that his arguments against the supernatural make the Resurrection improbable regardless of what Paul thought. 

[Richard] did not flatly say—as I think he should have—that his arguments against the supernatural overcome resurrection claims no matter what Paul believed about the nature of the resurrection body. 

I can almost hear Tabash’s foot stomping! However, the problem with Tabash’s (and Richard’s) reasoning is not merely that it is circular; an even bigger problem is that they don’t really agree with the argument, for they do not apply it consistently. Perhaps I should explain. When confronted with the Resurrection, Richard and Tabash argue that we shouldn’t believe that Jesus rose from the dead, because we have no independent evidence that miracles occur. But suppose they were confronted with the Big Bang. Would Richard argue that we shouldn’t believe in the Big Bang because we have no independent evidence that universes explode out of nowhere for no reason? Of course he wouldn’t. Or, suppose they were confronted with an argument for the origin of life. Would Tabash say, “We can’t believe that life originated on its own, for we have no evidence for that sort of complexity arising without intelligence!” No, he wouldn’t argue this. Suppose Richard and Tabash were given a claim about anything new; for instance, what if someone had come up to Tabash in 1969 and said, “Neil Armstrong walked on the moon!” Would Tabash say, “I just can’t believe that, because we have no evidence that such a thing has ever happened before.” He wouldn’t say this, because he doesn’t really believe in the soundness of his own argument. It simply provides a convenient way to ignore the evidence, which is what an atheist must do when it comes to the Resurrection. 

Assessment 

Atheists often claim that the Bible can’t be trusted, because its writers were biased. As we have seen, atheists themselves are biased. Richard holds that the early Christians believed in an exchange of bodies, not because of the evidence, but in spite of the evidence. Tabash believes that Richard won the debate, not because Richard really won, but because Richard was arguing against the Resurrection. In Tabash’s eyes, the atheist always wins. In Richard’s eyes, whatever position helps him reject Christianity is the one to cling to. All of us are the occasional victims of this tunnel vision, seeing only what is before us, resisting the urge to look around at something that might challenge our views. Our goal should be to recognize our biases and force ourselves to take a hard look at the evidence. 

At the heart of the Carrier-Licona debate is a single question, which each of us must answer. The question is “What type of explanation would I prefer?” Given the choice, would we take a supernatural explanation that fits all the facts, explains all the data, and does so without strain? Or would we rather have a natural explanation that doesn’t fit the facts, that goes against the evidence, and that relies on mass hallucinations and implausible translations? Some would respond here, “Look, I don’t care how much evidence there is for a miracle. I’m not going to believe it.” We can respect their honesty. Some people simply don’t want a miracle in their world. God is not welcome in their universe.  

Others are open to the evidence. God is welcome to enter their world if he really exists, and Christ is allowed to rise from the dead if he really is Lord. Perhaps our attitudes here reveal more than just our epistemological preferences. When we contemplate the evidence for Jesus’ resurrection, we learn something about ourselves. We learn about our resolve to either accept or reject God. For if a person is open to the evidence, there is only one direction to go—to the Cross of Christ. But if a person is closed to all that is around him, let him remember that the tunnel will one day come to an end.