If you’re reading this, then you are either one of the non-existent people who bother to read this blog, or you’re part of a captive audience at Liberty University. If the latter applies to you, welcome to the inner sanctum of the Caped Persuader, where philosophy meets superhero geekdom.

If you’re the former, congratulations on actually existing, thank you for coming here of your own free will, and please bear with me as I subject you to an esoteric discussion slightly out of my usual wheel house.

Here goes nothing…

When Matt Murdock, while mulling over resorting to lethal force to stop his nemesis the Kingpin, asked his pastor if he believed in the Devil, the priest responded, “You want the short answer or the long answer?”

“Just the truth,” the lawyer/vigilante replies.

As aspiring historians, we obviously aren’t making such life or death decisions, nor are we weighing in on the presence of evil in our world. Though the stakes aren’t as high, our dilemma isn’t too far removed however. We are wondering how to perform our vocation effectively and ethically at the same time, how to abide by a Christian worldview without letting our perspective undermine the quality and integrity of our work. While Daredevil may agonize over whether honoring the sixth commandment allows villains to escape justice, we wonder whether believing in God’s providence and holding firm to the Gospel diminishes our objectivity or skews our truthful interpretation of the past. While Daredevil may wonder, what’s the point of fighting crime if the same criminals can just escape and hurt more people, we wonder, what’s the point of studying history if there can be no reciprocation between our current principles and the lessons of the past?

I don’t know about you, but for me, all this talk about historicism has brought on a crisis of confidence. Reading through Butterfield and Fea, I have begun to doubt whether I study history properly. What’s more, I wonder if I got into it for the right reasons or if I still even want to keep up the pursuit. All the conventional wisdom we’ve been steeped in for the last four weeks would have us believe that the only responsible way to be a historian is to actively suppress one’s own perspective and diligently thread the needle between creative interpretation and misrepresentative oversimplification. Fortunately, difficulty navigating these contradictory criteria and overlapping overcompensations doesn’t preclude any of us from being great historians any more than our imperfections keep us from being great Christians, and in turn great men and women.

That’s because, for all the pontificating on this historical methodology or that, the basic interpretive function of the historian provides ample latitude for unscrupulous people to adhere to any set of best practices while still making a mockery of the truth. Put another way, no model of historicism, rejection of presentism, or active suppression of bias will be function properly without humility, honesty, serenity, and compassion. These of course, are the hallmarks of the Christian worldview as I see it.

 

 

These simple concepts undergird the principles discussed by Dr. Samuel Smith. We practice humility when we recognize God’s authority over the world; when we recognize our limitations, especially those in our reasoning; and when we acknowledge our imperfect representation of God. We practice honesty when we state the plain, indisputable fact that Jesus is central in human history, when we painstakingly reconstruct and interpret events through primary sources, and when we come to terms with the fleeting nature of all things temporal and terrestrial yet acknowledge the existence of eternal truth. This truth, and the order that God has established leading us to it, is the source of our serenity–that peace that allows us to accept when things don’t turn out as we’d hoped or expected. Most importantly, the compassion God shows the world by forgiving our sins–that Jesus taught us to implement in our daily lives and the Holy Spirit lays on our hearts–prompts us to truly care for the subjects we study in the past as unique creations of God.

These concepts may be simple but practicing them is anything but easy. Like being a Christian, though, the trick to be a good historian isn’t to be perfect but to strive to be, to always have the truth as your compass and to be prepared to be surprised where it may lead you. Getting caught up in whether our understanding of history is sufficiently complex is to succumb to the falsehood that there are shortcuts to the truth as surely as if we had assumed its simplicity. The truth is what it is. Sometimes the truth is simple. Sometimes we overcomplicate things by expecting them to be complex. We shouldn’t want the short or the long answer. Just the truth.

Just as Daredevil shouldn’t agonize over decisions he might or might not have to make, historians shouldn’t decide ahead of time what the truth is or isn’t. Matt Murdock, the Catholic, the Christian, doesn’t need to have all the answers before suiting up and fighting crime any more than a historian needs a rigid set of professional do’s and don’ts clouding his vision. Being a true Christian, and steadfastly adhering to the principles that come with it, will satisfy even the most rigorous set of guidelines in pursuit of the truth. It also doesn’t hurt when putting criminal masterminds behind bars either.