In November of 2005, Mark Thomas published a review of two biographies that had just been published about Joseph Smith. He observed:
Even as I write this, however, I hold it to be a scandal of Mormon scholarship and an embarrassment for historians that these two biographies describe what appears to be the life of two entirely different people.
I have been reflecting on this idea a bit over the past few days because of my exposure to both a new discussion about Joseph Smith, and the congruence of this quest for the “Historical Joseph Smith” with another much more celebrated quest for the historical Jesus. The discussion about Joseph Smith came in the form of a review of the recently published American Crucifixion by Alex Beam. At the same time, I was working my way through an essay by Luke Johnson: “The Humanity of Jesus: What’s at Stake in the Quest for the Historical Jesus?” Certainly they deal with very different things, but in many ways, Johnson’s observations on the attempts to biography the historical Jesus help, I think, to explain the growing body of literature that is the quest for a historical Joseph Smith.
Johnson provides us with two related concerns that he feels gave rise to the quest:
The historical study of Jesus began due to Enlightenment in Europe. At the time, two related convictions became popular among those considering themselves to live in an age of reason. The first was that for religion to be true it had to be reasonable; the second was that history was the most reasonable measure of truth. The claims of Christians about Jesus must therefore also meet those standards. Not surprisingly, the quest for Jesus was driven most by those deeply dissatisfied with a Chrisianity that grounded its supernaturalism and sacramentalism in the figure of Jesus, and who therefore sought in a purely rational Jesus the basis for a Christianity purged of its superstitious elements.
My own fascination this past week has centered on the outcomes of these issues applied first to the historical person of Jesus Christ, and then subsequently how apparently the same kinds of issues are applied to the more recent historical person of Joseph Smith. In a statement that reminds us of Thomas cited above, Johnson writes:
This brings us to the question why so many scholars using the same methods on the same materials have ended with such wildly divergent portraits of Jesus. To list only a few that have emerged: Jesus as romantic visionary (Renan), as eschatological prophet (Schweitzer, Wright), as wicked priest from Qumran (Thiering), as husband of Mary Magdalen (Spong), as revolutionary zealot (S.F.G. Brandon), as agrarian reformer (Yoder), as revitalization movement founder and charismatic (Borg), as gay magician (Smith), as cynic sage (Downing), as peasant thaumaturge (Crossan), as peasant poet (Bailey), and as guru of oceanic bliss (Mitchell). The common element seems still to be the ideal self-image of the researcher. It is this tendency that led T.W. Manson to note sardonically, “By their lives of Jesus ye shall know them.”
This is not so different from the broad range of portraits of Joseph Smith – and while labeling them in this way doesn’t necessarily do justice to the theories, it does illustrate the variety: Joseph the prophet, the con man, the founder of a religious movement, the pious fraud, the egoist, the seer, the illiterate farm boy, the treasure hunter, the politician, and so on. So why do so many scholars find such divergence in their understandings of Joseph Smith?
It cannot be related to the lack of data that exists for Jesus. About Jesus, Johnson notes that “we have only enough to support the historicity of his place and time, mode of death, and movement.” About Joseph, we have by comparison, an incredible wealth of historical data, establishing with a great deal of certainty many of the facts surrounding the events of his life. Nor can we simply write it off to a problem of disentangling reliable facts from the biased accounts of his friends and foes. While we may have disagreements over details, these disagreements don’t seem capable of creating this wide range of views on their own. What is left? Johnson describes one facet of the quest that has interesting implications:
It is surely not entirely a coincidence that the liberally inclined academics of the late twentieth century have found a Jesus who is not embarrassingly eschatological, not especially Jewish, not offensively religious, a canny crafter of countercultural aphorisms who is multicultural, egalitarian, an advocate of open commensality, and a reformer who is against the exclusive politics of holiness and for the inclusive politics of compassion. And best of all, he is all this as a charismatic peasant whose wisdom is not spoiled by literacy. What more perfect mirror of late-twentieth-century academic social values and professional self-despising could be imaged? Nor is it surprising that at the opposite end of the cultural and religious spectrum, more evangelically oriented Christians are finding a Jesus who is precisely eschatological, devoted to purity and holiness, and a champion of the politics of restoration within Judaism. Clearly, scholars’ pre-understanding of Jesus deeply affects their way of assessing the data.
I suspect that this is more likely the driving consideration for the wide range of portraits of Joseph Smith. Our search for the historical Joseph ends up giving us a mirror in which we don’t see the real historical Joseph. In his recent blog post, Steven Russel wrote:
Rooted in historic concerns over scarcity, our questions about the truthfulness of a story about a young boy in Palmyra really don’t matter that much to us, at least not as much as whether the story affirms or denies a sense of who we imagine ourselves to be. In our search for the Historical Joseph, probably the last thing on our minds is the truth.
I think that perhaps we confuse the search for the historical Joseph with the search for truth. Instead, often all we achieve is discovering that version that most closely represents what we already believe, and having found it, we decide that it must be the correct version. In doing so, we reaffirm that what we suspected all along is true because we can now ground that belief in what we perceive to be a reasonable interpretation of history.