When I was in high school, I stumbled upon a book called The Star Trek Chronology: A History of the Future. It was 1994; Star Trek: The Next Generation had just finished its seven-year run; Trek was in the air; and as someone greatly interested in history this book intrigued me. It probably would not take heavy psychoanalysis to plot a line from picking up that book in 1994 and beginning in 2007 the work that led to my soon-to-be-completed monograph, Rethinking the Dates of the New Testament.
Over the years, I lost track of my old copy of The Star Trek Chronology. I recently was at a used bookstore in my hometown, located just a couple blocks from the store where I bought the book in the first place, and seeing a copy picked it up. I would like to quote from the introduction. "We choose, in this volume, to treat Star Trek's invented universe as if it were both complete and internally consistent. In effect, we are pretending that the Star Trek saga has unfolded according to a master plan, and there is a logical, consistent timeline in those episodes, even though we (and you) know very well that this is not entirely true." It is a fascinating vanity, and one that (again perhaps not coincidentally) closely resembles my own general approach to history, which proceeds on the understanding that our data issue from a complete and internally consistent reality. The difference of course is that the authors of this book knew full that their "data" did not issue from such a world. There is no logical, consistent timeline, because there were no actual events.
But things are different with history. There is a consistent timeline (one wants to be less sanguine about supposing the existence of a "master plan"). There were actual events; they happened in space and time; and in principle (although not always in practice, due to the limitations of data) we can determine the relationship between these events. And as such "consistency" becomes a significant test, one which forces us to consider the degree to which insights drawn from careful attentive to the data of the past can be brought together into a coherent, consistent understanding of said past. This is in large part what Collingwood means by the historical imagination. Sometimes, as Collingwood notes, such an understanding leads us to recognize that this or that ancient source is mistaken, where intentionally or otherwise. For instance, I have no doubt that Philo encountered a group of Egyptian Jewish sectarians whom he described as the Therapeutae, and I have no doubt that they in many respects closely resembled the Essenes. I have no doubt on this matter because Philo tells me that this is the case, and on the one hand there is no reason to think that he is lying and on the other he is someone who I can reasonably expect to know about Judaism in Egypt. I also have no doubt that Eusebius read Philo's account; he says that he did, and he knows its details quite well. But I also have no doubt that he is entirely wrong when he concludes that these Therapeutae were in fact Christians. No doubt, as late Second Temple Jewish groups the Essenes, the Therapeutae, and the early Christians all bore a "family resemblance," such that descriptions of any one of these would resemble to some extent the other two; and I would argue that Eusebius, in his zeal to find any evidence for early Christians, mistook resemblance for identity. I make this judgment even though I actually cannot prove Eusebius to be wrong; it is possible that the Therapeutae were Christians; there is nothing that excludes the possibility; but I frankly find an error on Eusebius' part to be a more compelling explanation. The data permits a coherent, consistent understanding of the past, and that understanding I would argue entails the judgment that one of my authorities erred. This is possible because the data issues from a complete and internally consistent reality, even though the data themselves are incomplete and inconsistent.
Over the years, I lost track of my old copy of The Star Trek Chronology. I recently was at a used bookstore in my hometown, located just a couple blocks from the store where I bought the book in the first place, and seeing a copy picked it up. I would like to quote from the introduction. "We choose, in this volume, to treat Star Trek's invented universe as if it were both complete and internally consistent. In effect, we are pretending that the Star Trek saga has unfolded according to a master plan, and there is a logical, consistent timeline in those episodes, even though we (and you) know very well that this is not entirely true." It is a fascinating vanity, and one that (again perhaps not coincidentally) closely resembles my own general approach to history, which proceeds on the understanding that our data issue from a complete and internally consistent reality. The difference of course is that the authors of this book knew full that their "data" did not issue from such a world. There is no logical, consistent timeline, because there were no actual events.
But things are different with history. There is a consistent timeline (one wants to be less sanguine about supposing the existence of a "master plan"). There were actual events; they happened in space and time; and in principle (although not always in practice, due to the limitations of data) we can determine the relationship between these events. And as such "consistency" becomes a significant test, one which forces us to consider the degree to which insights drawn from careful attentive to the data of the past can be brought together into a coherent, consistent understanding of said past. This is in large part what Collingwood means by the historical imagination. Sometimes, as Collingwood notes, such an understanding leads us to recognize that this or that ancient source is mistaken, where intentionally or otherwise. For instance, I have no doubt that Philo encountered a group of Egyptian Jewish sectarians whom he described as the Therapeutae, and I have no doubt that they in many respects closely resembled the Essenes. I have no doubt on this matter because Philo tells me that this is the case, and on the one hand there is no reason to think that he is lying and on the other he is someone who I can reasonably expect to know about Judaism in Egypt. I also have no doubt that Eusebius read Philo's account; he says that he did, and he knows its details quite well. But I also have no doubt that he is entirely wrong when he concludes that these Therapeutae were in fact Christians. No doubt, as late Second Temple Jewish groups the Essenes, the Therapeutae, and the early Christians all bore a "family resemblance," such that descriptions of any one of these would resemble to some extent the other two; and I would argue that Eusebius, in his zeal to find any evidence for early Christians, mistook resemblance for identity. I make this judgment even though I actually cannot prove Eusebius to be wrong; it is possible that the Therapeutae were Christians; there is nothing that excludes the possibility; but I frankly find an error on Eusebius' part to be a more compelling explanation. The data permits a coherent, consistent understanding of the past, and that understanding I would argue entails the judgment that one of my authorities erred. This is possible because the data issues from a complete and internally consistent reality, even though the data themselves are incomplete and inconsistent.
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