Showing posts with label Craig Evans. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Craig Evans. Show all posts

Thursday, January 02, 2020

Mask or Mirror?

1. I'm going to comment on Lydia McGrew's The Mirror or the Mask (DeWard). This won't a formal review in the sense of a chapter-by-chapter synopsis followed by an evaluation. Rather, I'll concentrate on the gist of the argument, and the sections of greatest interest to me.

2. In this book, Lydia's principal foils are Craig Keener, Craig Evans, to a lesser degree Dan Wallace, and to a greater degree Mike Licona. 

It may be useful to classify them. On the pecking order. Keener is the preeminent scholar. Evans is a very capable scholar, but spreads himself too thin. He tried to bluff his way through a debate with Lydia on Unbelievable and committed basic factual blunders about the Gospels. 

Wallace is NT scholar and self-taught NT textual critic. He rose to greater prominence as a critic of Ehrman. 

Licona is a popular Christian apologist with a doctorate in NT studies. 

Evans openly repudiates inerrancy. Wallace is formally committed to inerrancy. Keener takes a largely historical approach to the Gospels, although he's a charismatic scholar with in-depth research on ancient and modern miracles, so while he doesn't seem to be committed to inerrancy, he is strong on the supernatural as well as historical components of the Gospels (and Acts).

Licona pays lip-service to inerrancy, but he talks out of both sides of his mouth, depending on the audience. His default position is to put little stock in inerrancy. Except when he's on the defensive, that's the position he naturally reverts to. 

3. Because some of these men are colleagues or move in the same professional circles, a buddy system naturally develops where they avoid public criticism.

In addition, NT studies can operate like a social contagion, where academic fads catch on and go unchallenged within the guild. 

An outsider may bring a fresh and necessary skill set to the debate. For instance, philosopher Peter van Inwagen is critical of the logically naive reasoning he finds in Bible studies:

Third, a really substantial proportion of the arguments the skeptics employ are very bad arguments. (For example: if one of the Gospels says that Jesus said thus-and-so, and if his having said thus-and-so was useful to the early church, then he probably didn't say thus-and-so.) 

Fourth, the arguments of many of the skeptics have premises that are philosophical rather than historical–that miracles are impossible, for example, or that it is methodologically essential to objective historical writing that it regard any miraculous narrative as unhistorical. These philosophical premises may be defensible, but they are rarely defended. And when they are–well, as a philosopher, I can testify that I have never seen a defense of them by a historical scholar that I would regard as philosophically competent. 

Finally, the community of skeptical critics is entirely naive and unself-critical as regards its own claims to objectivity. Its members regard the New Testament authors and the students of the Bible who lived before the advent of modern scholarship as simply creatures of their time and culture; the idea that skeptical twentieth-century scholars might be creatures of their time and culture is an idea that they seem not to have considered. 


I have few of the skills and little of the knowledge New Testament criticism requires…But I do know something about reasoning, and I have been simply amazed by some of the arguments employed by redaction critics. My first reaction to these arguments, written up a bit, could be put in these words: "I'm missing something here. These appear to be glaringly invalid arguments, employing methods transparently engineered to produce negative judgments of authenticity. But no one, however badly he might want to produce a given set of conclusions, would "cook" his methods to produce the desired results quite so transparently. These arguments must depend on tacit premises, premises the reaction critics regard as so obvious that they don't bother to mention them." Peter van Inwagen, "Do You Want us to Listen to You?" C. Bartholomew et al. eds. "Behind" the Text: History and Biblical Interpretation (Zondervan, 2003), 127.

By contrast, Richard Bauckham is a maverick who conducts his own independent research and arrives at concludes without regard to status quo scholarship. 

4. There's the question of Lydia's qualifications. She's polymath. 

She doesn't read the Gospels in Greek. While that's disadvantageous in one respect it can be advantageous in other respect. To begin with, many NT scholars aren't Greek scholars like F.F. Bruce, Bruce Metzger, Stephen Baugh, Colin Hemer, and Stanley Porter. They just get by. NT commentators are often unreliable guides on the nuances of Greek. 

In addition, a focus on Greek grammar can be a distraction when reading narratives. There's value in becoming thoroughly immersed in the plot, so that you internalize the narrative flow. That enables the alert reader to notice details and interconnections that might be lost on a scholar with an eye to Greek construction. I daresay that knowing the text of the Gospels backwards and forwards, insight and out, has made Lydia very sensitive to undesigned coincidences, among other things. 

There are different, complementary ways to read the Bible. Take the narratological approach inaugurated by Robert Altar and Frank Kermode. Because so much scripture consists of historical narrative and narrative theology, it's important to use more than one tool kit. Take John Collins, Reading Genesis Well. 

A neglected approach in Gospels studies is oral history. On the one hand this can involve informants sharing anecdotes with Mark or Luke. On the other hand, this can involve John dictating his reminiscences to a scribe. 

At present, NT studies approach the Gospels from an overly-literary perspective, as if these are carefully crafted documents to further the rhetorical and theological strategy of the narrator. 

5. The issue of inerrancy crops up in Lydia's book. It's become a slippery concept. There's a distinction between abstract inerrancy and substantive inerrancy. An abstract definition stipulates that Biblical teaching is inerrant. That, however, is just a blank to fill in. The definition in itself doesn't predict or select for the inerrant intention. Is a particular account in Scripture meant to be realistic? 

Traditionally, inerrancy is shorthand for a substantive claim. Framers have specific examples in mind. The moral and theological teaching of Scripture is true. The historical narratives correspond to real events and describe them in recognizable terms. The prophecies of scripture were delivered ahead of time. 

On a traditional, robust view of inerrancy, "inerrancy" typically includes historicity, apart from standard fictional exceptions like the parables of Jesus.

What is happening in some evangelical circles is splitting inerrancy from historicity. Inerrancy stripped of historicity. So we have proponents of empty shell inerrancy. 

6. Lydia's basic position is that given a choice, it's far preferable to have a narrator who makes innocent mistakes, little slips of memory, to a narrator who creatively misrepresents what really happened to make apparent events further a theological agenda. Where theology gets ahead of the reality on the ground. There's nothing underneath the theology but the narrator's imagination. 

It reduces the Gospels to historical fiction, like a movie adaptation based on a "true story". A historical core intertwined with imaginary scenes, speeches, and characters. And there's no way to distinguish which is which because the Gospels are the primary sources. Although there's corroborative evidence for the Gospels, these are the only 1C documents we have on the life of Christ, so there's no independent source to compare them to if the narrators indulge in fabrication and legendary embellishment. We can't get back to what really happened, because we have nothing behind the Gospels. 

7. A standing irony in the current debate is the overlap between Bart Ehrman's position and the position of the scholars Lydia targets. Ehrman himself views the Gospels as historical fiction, containing residual facts about Jesus along with legendary embellishment. He has no problem with the notion that Gospel narrators resort to rhetorical devices which sacrifice historicity for theology.  

8. On p10, Lydia delineates and defines what she means by fictionalizing literary devices. 

This is followed by a list of 20 actual examples from the scholars under review. Disturbing as these examples are, I think Lydia's larger point is that once you adopt this hermeneutic, then it has no brakes to slow the momentum as it careens down the Grande Corniche. Ever more scenes and sayings in life of Christ can be relegated to confabulation and legendary embellishment. The account is not a window into what happened, but into the narrator's imagination. 

9. Lydia distinguishes between achronological narration, where the narrator bunches materially topically, from dyschronological narration, where the narrator creates an alternate sequence, deviating from the original sequence, to convey to the reader that this is how it happened. 

By the same token, Lydia critiques the rubbery, equivocal way some scholars redefine a paraphrase, where it bears no recognizable resemblance to the original statement, whether verbally or conceptually. Where it's just the narrator's gloss, or the narrator writing speech for Jesus to recite, like a character in play. 

10. Another problem with this approach is that Gospel accounts frequently involve statements or dialogues embedded in a setting which supplies the occasion for the statements and dialogues. A particular incident gives rise to the conversation. Speakers respond to each other, in a conversation thread. 

But on the compositional device theory, was there a precipitating event that gave rise to subsequence statements and actions? Or does the whole thing unravel? Did the scene ever happen, or is the scene concocted to provide a backstory for a theological lesson? Are the speakers real participants or fictional mouthpieces? 

11. Lydia has a very useful section on the argument from unnecessary details,viz. 306-16. Her monograph isn't just a critique of the deficiencies in Licona et al., but here she begins to systematize a positive, but neglected line of evidence for the historicity of the Gospels. 

12. Likewise, Lydia proposes her own harmonizations. In some cases these may include her husband's harmonizations. This provides a counter to Bart Ehrman's dogeared list of contradictions. 

13. Lydia's position isn't primarily that we should reject the approach of the scholars in question between it leads to skeptical consequences. Her position, rather, is that the approach generates gratuitous skepticism unjustified by the historical evidence we have. These are bad solutions. Bad solutions obscure good solutions. And the effect is to divert attention away from multiple lines of evidence for the historicity of the Gospels. 

14. In the case of secular writers like Plutarch, Lydia makes what ought to be the obvious point that a mistake is often the most plausible explanation, rather than a compositional device. Speaking for myself, there's also the question of how seriously to take Plutarch. He's writing to entertain his wealthy patrons. So he's not a historian in the strict sense. We'd expect him to indulge in great literary license. How does humoring his clients make him comparable to the authors of the Gospels? 

15. The question of whether the Gospels are Greco-Roman bioi. Of the four Gospels, Luke is the only one who writes with any sense of self-conscious literary culture and tradition. And even that's not a style he sustains. As commentators routinely note, his prologue seems to be modeled on the LXX, but he doesn't maintain that rhetorical register. Either he lacks the literary ability to consistently write at that level or he else just doesn't care. He wrote the introduction that way to gain a hearing, but what he really cares about are the events themselves, so that interest quickly takes over. He's a part of this. That's what excites him. To see God at work. It's not a detached account. Luke is field missionary. It's a gripping experience.

Moreover, as commentators note, his style is uneven because he absorbs the style of his sources or informants. That shows you how close he is to his evidence. He doesn't put it into a blender to produce a smooth homogenous style. 

16. One question is whether the Gospels are even written in a self-conscious literary genre. Which comes first? You pick a genre and then shoehorn the material into the genre–or you write what you know about someone, which has the incidental rather than premeditated effect of prodding a biography? Consider oral histories in which the informant has no literary culture. They just talk about their life and experience. Or a reporter who interviews informants. It isn't in the first instance directed towards by a preconceived genre. Rather, they just set out to record whatever informants tell them. The genre will be the incidental outcome of the process. Keep in mind that none of the Gospel authors are professional writers. 

17. To the extent, moreover, that Gospel authors had historical and biographical models in mind, wouldn't OT narratives furnish more immediate precedents? All four Gospel authors were steeped in the OT. 

18. I'd add that writing has changed over the years. For instance, the Puritans have a choppy style because they didn't write everything out at one sitting. They wrote for a while, got up, did something else, resumed writing. Their writings often contain maddening digressions. But that's because they don't go through drafting process. Or just consider how long it took for Augustine to write The City of God. All the interruptions. 

19. Harmonistic debates over the number of angels at the tomb are complicated by the fact that some commentators don't believe in angels. They regard them as part of the genre, like the supernatural denizens of the Odyssey, Argonautica, Beowulf, or Dante's Inferno. So the whole harmonistic question is artificial or ridiculous if taken seriously from their standpoint. 

In addition, even for commentators whose abstract theology includes a realm of angels, how many have given much through to the nature of angelic apparitions? So this limits the harmonistic resources. 

Thursday, October 31, 2019

The Mirror or the Mask? interview

George Brahm interviews Lydia McGrew on her forthcoming book The Mirror or the Mask?: Liberating the Gospels from Literary Devices.

Saturday, June 16, 2018

The "Johannine Pentecost"

22 And when he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, “Receive the Holy Spirit (Jn 20:22).

1. Lydia McGrew has been conducting a series on the historicity of John's Gospel:




2. I'd like to focus on one particular issue. Scholars routinely label Jn 20:19-22 the "Johannine Pentecost". The question is how the incident in Jn 20:19-22 relates to the account of Pentecost in Acts 2. Obviously, these two accounts don't bear much resemblance to each other. So the question is whether these are two actual, separate events that happened at different times, or whether the Johannine narrator took historical liberties to craft an incident that never actually happened, but is a theological equivalent to the Lukan Pentecost. 

3. There are two issues: how does this incident relate to the rest of John's Gospel, and how does it relate to Acts 2, if at all?

i) Beginning with the first question, is this an anomalous incident in John's Gospel? Commentators often draw attention to the divine creative/recreative breathing motif in Gen 2:7 (LXX) and Ezk 37:9 (LXX). Assuming that's right, an allusion to Jesus as the Creator God in Jn 20:22 forms an inclusio, which circles back to the Prologue (Jn 1:1-4).

Likewise, an allusion to Ezekiel is consistent with other such allusions. For instance, commentators often think Ezk 36:25-27 supplies the primary background for Jn 3:5–as well as Ezk 34:15-16,23 for Jn 10. Likewise, Jesus as the new temple (Jn 2:19-22) may evoke Ezk 40-48. 

ii) In addition, this incident reconnects with the promise of the Spirit in the Upper Room Discourse:

16 And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Helper, to be with you forever (Jn 14:16).

26 But the Helper, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name... (Jn 14:26).

26 “But when the Helper comes, whom I will send to you from the Father, the Spirit of truth, who proceeds from the Father, he will bear witness about me (Jn 15:26).

7 Nevertheless, I tell you the truth: it is to your advantage that I go away, for if I do not go away, the Helper will not come to you. But if I go, I will send him to you (Jn 16:7).

The Spirit comes from the Father through the Son. The Son mediates the Spirit, because the Spirit is sent in Jesus name, at the Son's behest. 

So the action in Jn 20:22 is another way of indicating that Jesus is the source of the Spirit (economically speaking). The Spirit cannot be received apart from the Son. One must go through the Son to receive the Spirit. The Spirit is indirectly from the Father, and directly from the Son. The Son will send the Spirit in his place to take his place. 

That the Father sends the Spirit demonstrates the authority of the Father. That the Father defers to the Son demonstrates the authority of the Son.

iii) The difference between the promise in the Upper Room and the post-Resurrection gesture is the difference between saying and showing. In the Upper Room, Jesus says what will happen. After the Resurrection, Jesus illustrates what will happen. 

That's a good communication style. Say something, then give a graphic sign or example of what you mean. Verbal and nonverbal communication reinforce each other.

iv) On this analysis, Jn 20:19-23 is firmly integrated into the overall Johannine narrative. There's no reason to think it didn't happen, as described–unless you regard the genre of John's Gospel as pious fiction. 

v) And how does that relate to Acts 2? I view the action in Jn 20:22 is an enacted parable. A symbolic, proleptic action. I tend to doubt they received the Spirit at that moment. I think there's likely a suspenseful, delayed effect. 

vi) There's some interplay between the few and the many in Acts 2. The Spirit falls upon the Eleven. However, the Eleven are a kind of synecdoche inasmuch as the gift of the Spirit is not confined to the Eleven. Rather, that's common property of converts. That's already clear on the same occasion, in Peter's sermon (Acts 2:16-18,38-39). And that's illustrated throughout the Book of Acts. 

vii) So there's no inconsistency between these two accounts. There's not even a prima facie point of tension. 

Tuesday, June 05, 2018

The Gospels and the Gettysburg Address

Bart Ehrman harps on how we should read the Gospels horizontally as well as vertically. We should compare parallel accounts. When we do, we notice differences. Of course, that's hardly a novel observation.

Redaction criticism typically attributes variations to theologically motivated editorial changes. That may occasionally be true, but that's a problem when it's treated as the default explanation.

To take a comparison, the Gettysburg Address is one of the most famous speeches in American history. And it's multiply-attested in contemporary sources. We have copies in Lincoln's own hand, as well as transcriptions by newspaper stenographers who heard the speech live. Yet there are variations in our sources:

Abraham Lincoln gave his famous Gettysburg Address at a public cemetery dedication 151 years ago today. But was the mention of God really taken out of the famous speech by the president himself?
No one will really know for sure, since audio of the event wasn’t recorded. That technology was another two score years away in the future.

But there are at least nine versions of the Gettysburg Address from the time period, with some in Lincoln’s handwriting. All are slightly different, and not all accounts agree that Lincoln mentioned God during the 270-word, two-minute speech.
Lincoln was invited as guest speaker at the Gettysburg cemetery event as a courtesy, and it wasn’t entirely expected he would attend. The famed orator Edward Everett was the featured speaker.
Lincoln and his staff arrived on the day before the event, and Lincoln compared notes with Everett. The president also worked on his speech that night.
The Gettysburg Address itself is not in question. The Associated Press and three newspapers transcribed the remarks for publication. Lincoln gave his draft copy and a copy written right after the speech to his secretaries.
In later days, Lincoln wrote out three other copies as mementos, giving us a total of nine versions of the speech. All nine are different.
The gist of all the versions is the same, and all the versions contain the quotes widely taught in history class.
However, the first two versions, in Lincoln’s own handwriting, omit the mention of God in the conclusion.
“The nation, shall have a new birth of freedom, and that government of the people by the people for the people, shall not perish from the earth,” Lincoln wrote in his first two versions. Later versions added the word “under God” so that the sentence reads, “the nation, under God, shall …”
The inclusion of God in the speech is perhaps the most significant difference among the versions. The fifth version of the speech, which was signed and dated by Lincoln, was considered the “final” version and included “under God” in its last sentence.
But is that what Lincoln actually said on the battlefield?
In “The Collected Works Of Abraham Lincoln: Volume 7,” the dispute seems to be settled.
The Associated Press report of the speech, written by Joseph Gilbert, along with reports from newspapers in Philadelphia and Chicago, all agree that Lincoln said “under God” as his speech concluded.
In that book’s footnotes, it’s explained that the Philadelphia Inquirer and Chicago Tribune had the words in its independent accounts.
“These papers corroborate Gilbert's version, however, in having the phrase ‘under God,’ which Lincoln must have used for the first time as he spoke,” the book says.
It also appears that Lincoln used the Associated Press version as a reference point when he wrote out the third, fourth, and fifth versions.
A fourth printed version, from the Boston Advertiser, shows that Lincoln used the words “under God” as the address concluded.
How is that possible? One explanation is the difference between the spoken word and the written word. Some speakers write out their speech in advance. That's their script. 

But when they speak before a live audience, they may depart from their prepared remarks. In addition, if they make copies from memory, they may introduce further variations, in part because they don't recall exactly how they worded it the first time, and because they're not even attempting to reproduce the original wording verbatim. They reserve the right to paraphrase their own statements. What matters isn't the precise phraseology, but communicating the same ideas. 
In principle, all the variant accounts of Lincoln's speech could be authentic. They could all be his own words. He casually reworded what he said, when he delivered the speech and when he made copies of his own speech. 

Thursday, May 24, 2018

Gag rule

The debacle about the "1C fragment of Mark" raises questions about the wisdom and ethics of nondisclosure agreements in scholarship. How widespread is this practice? Is there a danger that scholars will be required to sign nondisclosure agreements to function in the guild? What if a scholar signs a nondisclosure agreement, then has second thoughts or changes his mind as he becomes aware of new evidence, but is not at liberty to publicly revise his position due to the gag rule? 

This damages Wallace's credibility while giving Bart Ehrman an unmerited boost:


Craig Evans put his reputation on the line as well:


Evans spearheaded a Fragments of Truth documentary. Does the "1C fragment of Mark" figure in that documentary? 

Saturday, May 19, 2018

A horse of another color

1. I recently listened to the debate between Lydia McGrew and Craig Evans. The debate concerns the reliability of John's Gospel in relation to the Synoptics, with special emphasis on the sayings of Jesus in the Fourth Gospel:

Tuesday, May 08, 2018

The Ehrmanization of evangelical scholarship

Fundamentalist scholars have no trouble with the question.  Since they are convinced that the Bible is the inspired and inerrant word of God, then anything Jesus is said to have said in the Gospels is something that he really said.  Viola!  Jesus preached the Christian faith that his death and resurrection brought salvation.

Critical scholars, on the other hand, whether they are Christian or not, realize that it is not that simple.   As Christian story tellers over the decades reported Jesus’ teachings, they naturally modified them in light of the contexts within which they were telling them (to convert others for example) and in light of their own beliefs and views.   The task is to figure out which of the sayings (or even which parts of which sayings) may have been what Jesus really said.

Different scholars have different views of that matter, but one thing virtually all critical scholars agree on is that the doctrines of Jesus’ saving death and resurrection were not topics Jesus addressed.  These words of Jesus were placed on his lips by later Christian storytellers who themselves believed that Jesus had been raised from the dead to bring about the salvation of the world, and who wanted to convince others that this had been Jesus’ plan and intention all along.


That's boilerplate Ehrman. What's striking is not his own position–that's what we expect Ehrman to say–but how hard it is to draw a line between his own position on the words of Jesus and the position of "evangelical" scholars like Mike Licona, Dan Wallace, and Craig Evans. We're witnessing the Ehrmanization of Gospel scholarship and evangelical apologetics in some circles. 

Saturday, May 05, 2018

Fireflies

I'd like to consider some stock objections to the historicity of the Gospels, using the Victorian art critic John Ruskin as a comparative reference frame. 

1. Argument from Silence

A stock objection is that if something is only mentioned in one Gospel, or if something is mentioned in the Gospels but not in extrabiblical sources, then it's fictional. Now the argument from silence is sometimes compelling provided that there's an expectation that if someone existed or something happened, there'd be an extant record of that, or that the writing in question would mention it. Likewise, that one Gospel writer may suppress a statement from his source. So goes the argument.

Monday, March 26, 2018

On rock

Coins also provide evidence of the effort to deify Livia. In some cases she is depicted as Demeter/Ceres, the goddess of grain. Philip issued coins in honor of Livia in the year 30CE, some stamped with the inscription karpophoros "fruitbearer", a clear allusion to Demeter/Ceres. Philip's coins leave no doubt as to his commitment to the Roman imperial cult and his specific loyalty to Livia herself. The linkage between the honoring of Livia and the refounding of Bethsaida is seen in coins issued in 30 CE that read "by Philip the tetrarch, founder" and "Julia Sebaste". "Founder" (ktistes) refers to the refounding of Bethsaida. 

The heights of Bethsaida rest on a rocky ridge of volcanic basalt. The earliest phase of the city reaches back to the Bronze Age. The site was chosen because it is the highest ground along the north shore of the Sea of Galilee, the ridge provides plenty of rock for building and defensive purposes, there is ready access to fresh water (such as the Jordan and Meshosim Rivers, as well as the Sea of Galilee) and there is also abundant arable land surrounding the ridge. Indeed, the original name of Bethsaida may have been Zer ("rocks") [as seen in the old geographical list in Josh 19:35, which lists "the fortified cities, Ziddim, Zer, Hammath, Rakkath, Kinneret", cities that encircle the Sea of Galilee]. It was on this "rock" that Philip the tetrarch refounded Bethsaida and began building the new city of Julias in honor of the Roman matriarch, now divinized in death (by order of the will of Augustus).

I wonder if Philip's recent announcement to rename Simon's hometown and to build a temple to honor Livia atop its rocky precipice was the actual incident that prompted Jesus to call Simon rock and promise to build his church on solid bedrock. Philip the tetrarch, the faithless son of Herod the Great, has betrayed the God of Israel and his people by embracing and promoting the rank paganism of the Romans, who worship humans and regard them as gods (see, for example, the sentiment of Paul the former Pharisee in Rom 1:22-23,25). Philip has announced that he will rename Bethsaida, the hometown of Peter and other disciples, to honor Livia, the widow of Augustus, whose divine name became Julia Augusta. In her honor and probably to support the cult of Livia and the drive to deify her Philip the tetrarch intends to build a temple on the rocky prominence of Bethsaida. In reaction to this plan Jesus promises to build his church, a community of confessing followers like Simon Peter, against which the very gates of Hades  will not prevail. That is, the political and demoniacal powers (and not simply "powers of death", as in the RSV's translation) that back Philip will not overcome the community that Jesus foresees growing up around the confession of Peter, namely, that Jesus is the Anointed One, the Son of God. C. Evans "'On This Rock I Will Build My Church' (Matthew 16:18): Was the Promise to Peter a Response to Tetrarch Philip's Proclamation?", Aaron White, David Wenham, & Craig A. Evans, eds. The Earliest Perceptions of Jesus in Context: Essays in Honor of John Nolland (Bloomsbury 2018), chap. 2. 

Sunday, September 17, 2017

I Am

A friend asked me about why the Synoptics don't include the "I am" statements of Jesus, and the views of Craig Evans on John's Gospel. 

Evans is mainly a Synoptic scholar. He rejects inerrancy. He's in the camp of those who argue for the "basic historical reliability" of the Synoptics. At the same time, he thinks John's Gospel contains historical "nuggets".

Some scholars claim John's Gospel has a Wisdom Christology. I disagree. So does Richard Bauckham. 

So Evans compares statements of Jesus in the Fourth Gospel to the character of wisdom in Proverbs 8. But that's a very different genre. In that case, Lady Wisdom is a metaphor. A personification. In the Fourth Gospel, Jesus is not a figurative personification but a real person in time and space (but in another respect, preexisting the world of time and space). 

It's true that people don't normally go around making "I am" statements like Jesus does, but that's because Jesus is not an ordinary person. Some of his "I am" statements evoke OT motifs, like the manna in the wilderness, Yahweh as the shepherd of Israel, Yahweh as the Creator of light in Gen 1, climaxing with the absolute "I am" statement in Jn 8:58, which triggers associations with the burning bush episode as well as proclamations in Isa 40-48 regarding Yahweh's unique deity. Likewise, Jesus is "life" because he's the life-giving Creator God of Gen 1. 

These statements don't come out of the blue. They have their background in OT themes about God and God's history with the people of Israel. Jesus is in continuity with that. 

It's only unrealistic for Jesus to say things like that about himself if he's merely human. But that's the point: he's making statements that put him on the same plane as Yahweh. And it has an a fortiori quality, from the lesser shadows of OT history to the sunrise of the Incarnation. 

At the same time, Evans said in one of his debates that he's very hesitant to discount the historicity of Gospel accounts because NT scholars have, in the past, made fools of themselves by prematurely discounting the historicity of Gospel incidents, only to have some archeological discovery confirm the disputed incident. He mentioned something from the Dead Sea Scrolls that paralleled a statement in whatever Gospel it was, thus debunking the critical view that this statement was invented whole cloth, having no connection with the thought-world of the historical Jesus. 

Evans is on the cutting edge of biblical archeology. I believe he makes annual trips to Israel, to inspect archeological digs. He frequently mentions archeological findings that confirm statements in the Gospels or corroborate the setting. 

Part of the difference between John's Gospel and the Synoptics is that the Synoptics are cramming everything they know about Jesus into what will fit on a scroll. There are chunks of material jammed together to get it all said. The Synoptics are dense-packed.

By contrast, John is more selective. The pace is more leisurely. That's in part because the Synoptics have already covered a lot of ground, so he doesn't need to repeat the basics. As a result, John's Gospel has more of a narrative emphasis. Gives the reader more of the setting for each episode. The time and place. Who said what when. Who did what when. 

This is part reflects someone recalling what he saw. It's in his mind's eye. The impression made by the Synoptics on the reader is more about hearing what was said; the impression made by John's Gospel in the reader is more about seeing what took place. It's easier for the reader of John's Gospel to visualize the action. It has more atmospheric detail.

i) In the Synoptic Gospels, the sayings of Jesus are often detached from their original setting. In many cases we don't know when and where they were originally spoken. Matthew and Luke in particular like to group similar sayings. That makes them easier to find or easier to remember.

In John's Gospel, by contrast, the sayings of Jesus are always moored in the original setting. And they grow out of the original setting. Unlike the Synoptics, John doesn't have free-floating sayings of Jesus. 

So one reason John records sayings the Synoptics omit is because he records the occasion when Jesus said these things. They go together. 

ii) Assuming traditional authorship, there's a concentric data-base. On the outer circle is Luke, who relies on secondhand information throughout. That's not a bad thing. For instance, suppose a WWII vet writes a memoir about his experience. That will be authentic, but narrow. By contrast, suppose a journalist who was not a vet interviews Churchill, Eisenhower, Marshall, MacArthur, Patton, and Ridgeway. That will give the reader a far broader view of the war.

iii) Mark is arguably one circle in from Luke. Since Jerusalem was his hometown, and his mother's home was a house-church frequented by the apostles, Mark probably had some firsthand knowledge regarding the public ministry of Christ whenever Jesus blew into town. And it's possible that Mark was in the crowds that followed Jesus around Palestine. He also had access to some of the Eleven.

iv) Matthew occupies the inner circle. As a member of the Eleven, he has much more firsthand knowledge than Mark. So he supplements Mark's Gospel. Although he uses Mark's Gospel as an outline, he may well have been one of Mark's informants. If so, when he's quoting Mark, he's quoting himself!

v) John occupies the inmost circle. Christ's most trusted disciple. Spent more time with Jesus than any other disciple. 

It's not surprising that he records some sayings which the Synoptics don't, because he was on the scene more often than Matthew was, much less Mark, much less Luke. We'd expect him to record more if he was present on more occasions.