Two years ago I wrote a detailed critique of Richard Carrier’s argument that Josephus does not refer to Jesus of Nazareth in Antiquities XX.200. Strangely, the normally hair-triggered Carrier has been slow to respond to my analysis. This did not go unnoticed by his fans, who repeatedly asked him why he had not replied to my criticisms. But now that he has finally done so, we can see the reason for his reluctance – the results are confused, inaccurate and weirdly hysterical.

Richard Carrier and the Legion of Liars

Jesus Mythicism apologist Dr Richard Carrier (PhD) has a bizarre obsession with proving his many critics are “liars”. Do a word search on his blog for “liar”, lies”, “lying” etc. and scores of his blog posts come up in the results – I stopped counting when I got to over 50 of them in which he accuses critics and opponents of being “liars” or “lying”. So I am in good company when he adds me to the long list of wicked “liars” who afflict him with criticism, given that he has said the same about Bart Ehrman, R. Joseph Hoffmann, Maurice Casey, Larry Hurtado, James F. McGrath and many, many more. It is worth pausing to consider that for a moment, because the arrogance of this is quite staggering. It is not merely that he disagrees with our positions. Nor are we simply wrong. Or even just incompetent. Or even stupid. No, he says we are actively lying when we disagree with him – as though the only way to assail his mighty ideas is by telling untruths, since the wonder of his scholarship is so patently manifest that it is only by lying that we can disagree with it. Frankly, I find that level of weird narcissism unfathomable.

Given this obsession, it would be no surprise to anyone that for over eight years now Carrier has been telling anyone who mentions my name that I too, like the scholars mentioned above, am a wicked “liar”. And two years ago a comment I made on Bart Ehrman’s blog criticising his article on the Jesus-James reference in Josephus’ Antiquities XX.200 triggered an outpouring of petty bile entitled “On the Gullibility of Bart Ehrman and the Asscrankery of Tim O’Neill”, with more claims about my many supposed “lies”. I learned long ago that if you critique people’s ideas on the internet there will always be someone (usually the target) who responds with psychodrama and I generally ignore what my detractors say about me. This particular example, however, needed refuting – especially the bizarre claims about him having “documented proof” that I am a liar. 

So on this occasion I responded in kind. My response – “Richard Carrier is Displeased” – did go for sarcasm and ad hominems more than I usually bother with, but all I can say is Carrier’s stuff does provide a target-rich environment for that kind of thing. More importantly, however, it gave me an opportunity to counter his defence of his Josephus argument and show exactly how flawed his position on the Bk. XX passage really is. For those who are not interested in the psychodrama, I have made that criticism the second half of my article on the Galatians and Antiquities mentions of James as evidence of the existence of a historical Jesus – see “Jesus Mythicism 2 – ‘James, the Brother of the Lord'”.

Judging from the traffic to those two articles, it seems my critique has been useful to many, causing some of Carrier’s fans to ask repeatedly why he had not replied to my criticisms. Normally Carrier jumps at the chance to spring nobly to his own defence at the slightest hint of criticism – after all, this is someone who wrote a 6,800 word response to a negative Amazon review of his Jesus book. For two years Carrier tried to dismiss my critique by repeating his nonsense about me being a “proven liar”, but eventually it seems the lack of a reply to a substantial series of criticisms became too glaring. And so a couple of months ago we were treated to “More Asscrankery from Tim O’Neill”. Unfortunately for Carrier, all this this effort shows is why he avoided a response for so long. It is absolutely terrible.

“Lies! Lies! Lies!” Etc.

Carrier’s argument against the overwhelming consensus that Antiquities XX.200 does refer to Jesus of Nazareth (see Carrier, “Origen, Eusebius, and the Accidental Interpolation in Josephus, Jewish Antiquities 20.200”, Journal of Early Christian Studies, Volume 20, Number 4, Winter 2012 pp. 489-514) depends on the claim the key identifying phrase  – “who was called Messiah” (του λεγομενου Χριστου) – is not original to Josephus’ text. Carrier claims it was added; first as a marginal note and then inserted into the main text when a later scribe mistook the note for a correction. In the comment on Bart Ehrman’s blog that provoked his original rage, I noted a key problem with this:

[D]ismissing the phrase “who was called Messiah” as a marginal gloss that found its way into the body of the text doesn’t go far enough to explain the textus receptus. Josephus is very consistent in the way he introduces new actors to his narrative and in the way he differentiates one from another. Nowhere does he introduce a person simply by their name (“Jesus”, minus the Messiah part) and then refer to them by an identifying appellation later (“Jesus, son of Damneus”). Yet that’s what Carrier’s contrived ad hoc work around requires.

In his response, Carrier noted that:

This is a lie, because it omits the fact that in my article I propose the text in fact originally read “James the brother of Jesus ben Damneus” and the scribe, believing a dittographic error had occurred (from the following line that contained “Jesus ben Damneus”), transposed the marginal note “the one called Christ” into its place, believing that to be the intended correction.

And added that “in no way does my ‘contrived ad hoc work around require’ proposing Josephus left that out.” Perhaps that is true if we lean heavily on the word “require”, since after spending most of his Journal of Early Christian Studies article arguing precisely this, he includes a cramped and rather tangled paragraph toward the end that briefly proposes this second alternative – that the original text read so that this Jesus was identified as “Jesus son of Damneus” in both of the two times the name Jesus is mentioned. This single paragraph, tucked away on the second last page of his article reads:

In fact, the text may have originally said, “the brother of Jesus ben Damneus, the name for whom was James, and some others.” Since “Jesus ben Damneus” appears again a few lines later (and as I have argued, it is more likely that Josephus actually meant this Jesus), a scribe who saw a marginal note “who was called Christ” (τοῦ λεγομένου Χριστοῦ) scribbled above “ben Damneus” (τὸν τοῦ Δαμναίου), regardless of how or why it came to be written there, may have inferred a dittography. This is a common scribal error where a copyist’s eye slips to a similar line a few lines down (by mistaking which “Jesus” he had left off at), then realizes he had picked up at the wrong place, but corrected himself and then wrote a superlinear phrase intended to replace the erroneous material. A later copyist would then interpret the earlier copyist’s correction as calling for the erasure of “ben Damneus” as a dittograph, omit the words, and replace it with the gloss, “who was called Christ.” 

(Carrier, p. 512)

The key word here is in the first sentence – the word “may“. Carrier did indeed spend most of his article arguing for precisely the idea I criticised in my comment to Ehrman – that the text originally just mentioned that this James was the brother of a “Jesus” and that this was the “Jesus son of Damneus” mentioned later as succeeding the deposed high priest. He only mentions this other, more convoluted and supposition-laden alternative – where this Jesus is identified as the “son of Damneus” both times he is mentioned – in this single paragraph.  

So in his original “Gullibility” attack, Carrier placed great emphasis on this second alternative idea, ignored the fact that my criticism had focused on the earlier proposal that made up the bulk of his argument and pretended I had “lied” because I said his argument “requires” that hypothesis. As it happens, I wrote my comment to Ehrman while waiting for a delayed business flight in an airport lounge and was working from my memory of Carrier’s paper, but given that most of his article does focus on the claim this Jesus is introduced without a identifier and only identified as “Jesus son of Damneus” later, the problem for Carrier’s argument remains. This is because, as I said, Josephus was very consistent in how he uses this kind of identifier and nowhere does he call someone simply by their name and then introduce an identifier later. For obvious reasons, when he uses these identifiers he he does so using patronymics, gentilics or cognomens when he introduces the person in question and then, having made clear who he is referring to, uses just their first name if he mentions them again in the same passage. I gave several examples of this consistent pattern of usage in my “Displeased” critique.

But now in his new attack Carrier crows:

What does O’Neill have to say about this? Nothing. He evades the matter, and moves the goal posts by pretending we were arguing about something else.

Perhaps he is depending on the assumption that his lazy and unsceptical peanut gallery of readers will not bother to go back and look at what I actually said. But I do not say “nothing” about this. On the contrary, anyone who reads my “Displeased” critique can see that I address it directly and at some length; noting that, as I have just explained, most of his article argues precisely as I noted in my Ehrman comment and that the alternative “maybe” he is now trying to make out as being his whole thesis is crammed into the single paragraph at the end that I have quoted above and which I quoted and criticised in my “Displeased” article. So I do not say “nothing” nor do I “evade the matter”. The section of my “Displeased” article entitled “So what about the supposed removal of an original phrase?” quotes the alternative hypothesis paragraph above in full and discusses it directly and in detail. So much for that so-called “lie”.

And Carrier’s problem is that, whichever of his two hypotheses he tries to run with, Josephus’ consistent patterns when using this kind of identifier means his argument simply does not work. As already noted, the idea that he just introduced this person as “Jesus” and only later called him “Jesus son of Damneus” is contrary to Josephus’ consistent usage. But the alternative – that he referred to him as “Jesus son of Damneus” both times he is mentioned – also does not work. As I argue in detail in my “Displeased” article, Josephus does not refer to someone using an identifier twice in the same passage either (though I note some exceptions which do not apply to the Ant. XX.200 passage). Again, once he introduces a person using an identifier to establish who he is referring to, he consistently only refers to them by their first name, without the identifier, if he mentions them again in the same passage. So whichever of his alternatives he tries, Carrier’s argument still fails.

Josephus and Patronymics

As I detailed in my “Displeased” critique, Josephus has to use identifiers to differentiate between people quite often in his works because so many people in his narrative share the same names. Jewish men in this period tended to have the same ten or so common first names and Josephus also discusses the tangled dynasties of the Ptolemies, Seleucids, Hasmoneans and Herodians, many of whom also shared names. So it was often essential for Josephus to make clear precisely which Simeon, Matthias, Antiochus, Ptolemy or Salome he was referring to. To do this he sometimes referred to where they were from (a gentilic), or used a nickname or title (a cognomen), but very often he used standard Jewish practice and referred to their father (a patronymic). Thus his works are full of references like “Onias, son of Simon” or “John, the son of Simeon”, which helps the reader to keep straight exactly which Onias or John is being talked about.

As already summarised above, Josephus is consistent in how he uses these patronymics when he employs them: using them when he introduces someone who he feels needs this identifier and then, having done this, referring to them by their first name from then on. As I note in my “Displeased” critique, if he changes the subject and then later reintroduces this person to his narrative, he will use the identifier again. The only places where he generally uses a patronymic twice in the same passage is when someone else of the same first name is mentioned and he needs to make it clear which person is which. Again, I gave several illustrative examples of these patterns in my original critique.

So all this makes Carrier’s next attempt at attack very strange. He declares:

That’s before we even get to the methodological problem with O’Neill’s argument. Josephus sometimes didn’t state the patronymics of persons he names.

He then gives several examples of Josephus introducing someone to his narrative without using a patronymic. But I did not say he always uses patronymics or even that he always does so when he introduces someone to his account. I simply noted that, when he does use these and other identifiers, he is consistent in the way he does so. And both of Carrier’s hypotheses about the XX.200 passage run contrary to those patterns. Carrier then compounds the problem in his new attack by stating:

[M]y paper’s thesis does not even require that Josephus would do that here; he may have simply assumed the reader would know who he meant once he completed the story a couple lines later by identifying which Jesus he was talking about: Jesus ben Damneus. 

Except the patterns noted above and detailed in my “Displeased” article mean this does not work. Josephus does not do this anywhere in his works when he uses patronymics. And he continues:

I also pointed out in my peer reviewed paper that the patronymic may have existed in the text in the earlier line, too, but was replaced with “the one called Jesus” in error.

Again, this too does not work, as nowhere does he use a patronymic twice in in the same passage unless in there is someone else of the same name mentioned in the same passage and he is differentiating between them. Whichever way Carrier twists and turns, both his suppositions fail.

Continuing his confusion, Carrier says “but most importantly, and (duh!) obviously, the James named in this passage is given no patronymic either”, as though this would be a problem for anything I have argued. It simply is not. Nowhere did I say that Josephus always uses patronymics – in fact I note his use of other identifiers and give examples. Nor do I say he always uses any identifiers at all. It is just that when he does do so, his pattern of usage is consistent and contrary to Carrier’s arguments. In this case, Josephus does use an identifier: he says James is “brother of that Jesus who was called Messiah”. This is highly specific and serves as a way of differentiating James’ brother from the later mentioned “Jesus son of Damneus” very effectively. Josephus could not be more clear. The passage fits Josephus’ usage of identifiers perfectly as it stands and it does not fit either of Carrier’s contorted, supposition-laden alternatives at all. So Carrier’s whole argument collapses.

Marginal Notes

Despite having completely bungled his response to what I actually said about Josephus’ use of patronymics and other identifiers, Carrier pushes on. He claims “[O’Neill] lies again” when I note his argument that the key phrase –  “the one called Christ” – is “exactly the kind of thing a scholar or scribe would add as an interlinear note” (p. 495), and criticise this by saying that Carrier does not actually argue that it is “exactly” this kind of thing, he just asserts it. In his new attack, Carrier counters:

Um. No. I cite in my article several scholars discussing marginalia, noting that they provide lists of examples. And I state reasons myself (that’s called an argument) for concluding it

He then goes on to quote from his Journal article:

…the words and structure chosen here are indeed the ones that would commonly be used in an interlinear note, e.g., a participial clause—remarkable brevity for something that would sooner otherwise spark a digression or cross-reference, had Josephus actually written those words. (p. 495)

Except, if anyone actually turns to this paragraph in his article to see which “several scholars” he cites to back this claim up and what “lists of examples” are provided they will find … nothing. There is not so much as a footnote directing the reader to support for his claim that “the words and structure chosen here are indeed the ones that would commonly be used in an interlinear note”. He does discuss the idea of marginal notes or glosses being incorporated into texts (pp. 490-1), citing F. W. Hall, Robert Renehan, Miroslav Marcovich and Paul Maas, but on the specific claim that the “words and structure” in the key phrase are “the ones that would commonly be used in an interlinear note” we get no argument and no citation of scholars or examples. We simply get, as I said, an assertion. Once again, Carrier seems to be relying on the (fairly safe) assumption his readers will not check what he says.

Warming to his task, Carrier then leaps with some glee on a passing observation I made that “[s]urely [the gloss being in the same grammatical case] alone argues against the idea that this phrase is a marginal or interlinear note.” He notes a couple of examples of marginal notes that do agree with the grammar of the text being commented on. This is fair enough, though my actual point was that “Carrier doesn’t bother to even address any alternative ideas – a characteristic of his writing”, not that this particular idea was some crucial flaw in his argument. It is good that he could have addressed this issue, but the problem was that here and elsewhere in his article he breezes on with his argument without exploring counter-points. Elsewhere in his article he gestures vaguely toward some alternative views and then simply says “I will not delve any further into that debate” (p. 498). That “delving further” is precisely what is required of someone who (as he endlessly reminds us) is an Ivy League Ph.D graduate writing in a peer-reviewed journal etc. But Carrier the polemicist tends to come through even when he is trying to write as Carrier the “independent scholar”. He has an agenda to hammer and the careful analysis of alternatives essential to genuine scholarship just gets in the way.

“Called Messiah”

In his Journal article Carrier argues that the key phrase “called Messiah” is  
“a participial clause — remarkable brevity for something that would sooner otherwise spark a digression or cross-reference, had Josephus actually written those words.” (p. 495). I note in my “Displeased” critique that this is another argument that does not stand up to scrutiny and gave several examples of  similar participial clauses using precisely the same verb – 
λεγόμενος (“called”) – where Josephus provides us with no “digression or cross-reference”. As in the XX.200 passage, Josephus simply tells us that something or someone was “called” something without bothering to explain why or what the thing they were “called” meant or referred to. It is simply an identifier.

Of course, Carrier shrieks that this is “dishonest” and says:

The verb used here is completely irrelevant to whether Josephus would need to gloss the obscure word Christos; and he certainly would back reference to his previous discussion of this unusual fact, had there been one.

But I did not say that the use of the verb λεγόμενος as somehow essential to anything, I simply used examples of  forms of the participle of that verb because it drives home the point that Carrier’s claim that Josephus “would” have explained this participial clause does not stand up to scrutiny. If there are many examples of this kind of reference which he does not explain or cross-reference, including several using this very verb, then his claim that “he certainly would” explain what “Christos” meant or referred to does not work. He insists in his new attack that “I give several reasons why he would, as well as examples of Josephus glossing and back referencing”. The problem is that none of the reasons he gives are sufficient to sustain the idea that he “certainly” would have glossed this word, nor does the fact he could and did do so sometimes mean that he should “certainly” do so here. Again, I gave multiple examples where he simply says someone or something was called a certain thing without bothering to explain further or elaborate in any way. Josephus’ readers may have been able to guess why a group of soldiers were “called the Freemen” (Antiquities XIV.342), but Josephus does not explain why they were. And why a certain Joseph was “called Cabi” (Antiquities, XX.196) would probably have been as obscure to them as why this Jesus was “called Christos”. That does not really matter, since Josephus did not see the need to explain either by-name, he just uses them to distinguish which Joseph or Jesus he was referring to.

Carrier goes on:

O’Neill complains that I don’t “explore” all of the examples I show of legomenos Christos being a known Christian phrase, even though it (a) comes from the Christian Bible itself and is only otherwise used by (b) Origen, the very person I propose is most likely to have rendered this note. Does one honestly need to “explore” why Origen would add a note using an idiom from his own Bible and that he himself repeatedly and alone used? Or can anyone who isn’t a dunce already get why that’s a telling point?

Carrier’s statement here that the key phrase “comes from the Christian Bible” not only assumes his conclusion, but refers to Matt 1:16, which is actually the only place where a gospel writer refers to Jesus as “called Messiah” (the only other uses of it in the NT are quoted speech where others are referring to this title being used of Jesus, as Pilate does in Matt 27:17 and 27:22). That aside, the point I made was that Carrier claims that the phrase was  “far more probable” to have come from a Christian hand, despite the fact that uses of this phrase by Christian writers are extremely few. As I said in my “Displeased” critique, it is found in Origen Contra Celsum I.66 and IV.28 and in Justin Martyr in First Apology XXX and … that is about it. This is in fact a exceedingly rare phrase in the Christian corpus, which severely undercuts Carrier’s assertion that it is “far more probable” to be a Christian addition. Indeed, no less a scholar than the doyen of Josephus studies, Louis Feldman, rejects the idea that this passage has been added or tampered with by Christians precisely because he considers it so unlikely that a Christian would use the phrase “who was called Messiah” (see Feldman,  Josephus, the Bible, and History, Wayne State University Press, 1989, p. 48, n. 22).

In the paragraph quoted above Carrier says I am a “dunce” because Origen “repeatedly and alone used” the phrase and he believes Origen added this supposed marginal note. Leaving aside the fact this is wrong (he has forgotten Justin Martyr), of the five uses of the phrase by Origen, three are from references to this very passage of Josephus. So to accept that this is Origen’s phrase in those three usages (Contra Celsum I.47, II.13 and Commentary on Matthew X.17) and not that of Josephus, we have to accept Carrier’s contorted argument that Origen was muddling Josephus and Hegesippus in these references and so his use of the phrase here is his own and not a quote of Josephus using it. See above about Carrier’s habit of assuming his conclusions and then using them to argue he is right.

The fact remains that “who was called Messiah” is actually a highly atypical way for any Christian writer to refer to Jesus and so, as I said, Carrier’s claim that it is “far more probable” to be from a Christian hand is just more of his usual bombastic assertive bluster.

Mangling Mizugaki

One of the main problems that encumbers any of the few attempts at arguing that the XX.200 reference to James and Jesus is somehow fraudulent is the fact that it is referred to three times by Origen. As mentioned above, Origen makes three references to the execution of James, citing Josephus and even using the phrase “James the brother of Jesus who was called Messiah”. Given that Origen was writing in the mid-third century and so long before Christianity had been in any position to doctor Josephus, this makes it exceedingly hard for anyone to argue this passage is a later Christian addition and equally hard to argue, as Carrier attempts to, that at least this key phrase is a later interpolation.

Carrier attempts to get around this via a typically circuitous route. First, he argues that because Origen claims Josephus “says ….that these things [the fall of Jerusalem] befell the Jews as vengeance for James the just, who was a brother of Jesus who is called Christ”, this means that Origen was not actually referring to Josephus at all, given that Josephus does not actually “say” this. Then he argues that Origen was actually confusing Josephus with the Christian writer Hegesippus, who ends his account of the execution of James (preserved in Eusebius) with a heavy implication that his death preceded and brought on the fall of Jerusalem.

But the alternative explanation is that Origen was more of an exegete than a historian and sometimes read his sources as “saying” things which were not in the text but were in Origen’s theological understandings of them. Waturu Mizugaki explores this in his essay “Origen and Josephus” in Josephus, Judaism, and Christianity (L.H. Feldman, G. Hata eds, Wayne State University Press, 1987) pp. 325-337, where he gives several examples where Origen claims Josephus “says” things that are actually not in Josephus’ text. This is why, in my comment on Ehrman’s blog that sparked Carrier’s original tirade, I cited Mizugaki’s work on this:

But Origen was an exegete, not a historian, and often claims his sources “say” things that aren’t there: he reads his exegesis into his material. Reading the passages in Josephus following Ant. XX.9.1 in this light shows how Origen definitely could have read the trope of “the fall of Jerusalem as punishment for the execution of James” into the text, as detailed by Waturu Mizagaki (sic), “Origen and Josephus” in Josephus, Judaism and Christianity (L.H. Feldman, G. Hata eds, Wayne State University Press, 1987) pp. 325-337). 

Carrier rejected this completely, stating in his “Gullibility” posting:

No such argument is in Waturu Mizagaki, ‘Origen and Josephus’ in Josephus, Judaism and Christianity.
Ooops.
Literally. Mizagaki never argues for such a thing. At all. Much less in any “detailed” way.

Now I suppose someone could read my original comment to Ehrman as saying that Mizugaki explicitly argues that Origen was reading the death of James as the cause of the fall of Jerusalem into Josephus, but I was actually saying that it was Origen’s tendency to read exegesis into his sources that Mizugaki argued in detail. I would say it is pretty clear that Mizugaki does think Origen’s claim Josephus “says” Jerusalem fell because of James’ execution was an example of this, which is why in my “Displeased” response I quote someone else – the poster called “GakuseiDon” on Peter Kirby’s Biblical Criticism and History board – reading Mizugaki precisely that way. And in the very next article in the same book Zvi Baras takes up the same idea and, as “GakuseiDon” went on to note, makes the argument explicitly (see Z. Baras, “The Testimonium Flavianum and the Martyrdom of James” in Feldman and Hata, pp 338-48). But Mizugaki does not make that argument explicitly and I did not actually say he did.

But Carrier decided I had said that Mizugaki had explicitly “detailed” an argument that Origen had read his exegesis into James’ execution and so said Josephus had stated it as the cause of the fall of Jerusalem. And once he decides to read something in a way that suits him, he sticks to it. He says in his most recent “Asscrankery” rant that “O’Neill now tries to prove me wrong by quoting Mizagaki”. Actually, what I actually did was quote “GakuseiDon” quoting Mizugaki, but Carrier carefully elides this – someone independently agreeing with me is not something he wants to highlight. Carrier then gives part of that quote:

Origen does use Josephus’ historical explanation of the fall of Jerusalem but expands it. Origen tries to find the real cause of the fall in Jesus Christ’s death on the cross. Here Josephus’ historical account is theologically interpreted. At this point, Origen’s approach is by no means historical.

(Mizugaki, p. 336

He then adds triumphantly:

Did you catch it? Insert the sound of a record scratching to a halt. Mizagaki argued Origen found “the real cause of the fall in Jesus Christ’s death on the cross.” Um. Where is James? There is no statement here from Mizagaki that Origen read “the real cause of the fall in James’s death.” There is in fact nothing discussed here about Origen getting the idea of James being the reason for Jerusalem’s fall.

Again, while I, “GakuseiDon” and at least two readers of my blog who have gone and read Mizugaki to check this point all agree that Mizugaki does seem to believe Origen is reading Josephus on James in this way, I never said he makes this argument explicitly in the first place. My comment to Ehrman simply cited Mizugaki on the issue of Origen reading exegetic assumptions into his sources. But a charitably reasonable reading of what I said is well beyond a pettifogger like Carrier by this stage. Like Origen, he sees in the text what he fervently wants to see.

He also manages to see Zvi Baras “saying” things that are invisible to everyone else. Continuing his “Asscrankery” rant he declares:

O’Neill accused me (and hence my peer reviewers) of failing to address the possibility that Origen read the James passage in Josephus as having said God allowed the destruction of Jerusalem for the killing of James. He cites Mizagaki arguing this. Mizagaki never argues this. And Baras in the same volume explains why no one can think this today. Indeed Origen cannot have gotten that idea from Josephus. Much less have thought Josephus “said” that. So where then did Origen get the idea from? The most likely candidate is Hegesippus. Which in my peer reviewed paper I presented multiple converging lines of evidence in support of. Baras even admits that’s a going theory. And the only argument he gives against it, I actually do address in my article!

Exactly how Carrier managed to read Baras as somehow explaining “why no one can think this today” is a mystery, given that Baras clearly believes Origen did read Josephus that way, though not that Josephus actually said what Origen thought he said. And Baras roundly dismisses the idea that Origen was confusing Josephus with Hegesippus in the process:

Could Origen have confused the sources? Such negligence on the part of so meticulous a scholar is unacceptable. I have already pointed out elsewhere that it seems more likely that the sequential events (hoc post hoc) in Hegesippus – namely, James’ martyrdom and the siege – became for Origen causal events (hoc propter hoc).

Baras, pp. 343-4

Here he refers via a footnote to his longer discussion of this in his article “Testimonium Flavianum: The State of Recent Scholarship” in Society and Religion in the Second Temple Period, (eds. M. Avi-Yonah and Z. Baras, Jerusalem, 1977, pp. 303-13, particularly 310-11). Baras quotes the James-Jesus passage from Josephus and notes:

In the hands of Origen and Eusebius, this incident, defined as ‘the martyrdom of James’, became through Christian historiosophical interpretation, the main cause for the destruction of the Jerusalem and the Temple.

Baras, p. 341

This “’emendation’ of Josephus’ explanation for the Jewish catastrophe” (p. 346) is how Baras accounts for the discrepancy between what Origen reports and what the text of Josephus says. Carrier claims he addresses this idea in his article, but where he thinks he does this is yet another mystery.

Carrier Waxes Weird

So for all his sturm und drang, Carrier’s bombastic response boils down to … nothing much. He claims I did not respond to things I responded to at length. He wildly pummels a strawman version of my arguments about Josephus’ use of patronymics and other identifiers, leaving my actual criticisms completely unscathed. He tries to twist valid observations into more of his imagined “lies”. And his point about Mizugaki is just a result of him misreading what I said. And that is about it. No substance. No points scored. Nothing.

And this is probably why he has to pad this flaccid effort out with so many insults. And boy, does he pile on the insults. In the space of a few thousand words he calls me “[an] amateur rage blogger  …. an asscrank, a total tinfoil hatter, filled with slanderous rage and void of any competence and honesty …. delusionally insane …. not an honest man …. incompetent  …. a completely unreliable person …. fantastically ignorant ….  thoroughly dishonest …. [and] a hack and a liar “. In addition to all this frenetic shrieking he says I “lied” 14 times and then calls me a “liar” no less than 7 times more. This is on top of the email about this ranting post he sent to his Patreon sponsors declaring how it deals with “the lies and slanders and tinfoil hat of the pseudo-atheist shill for Christian triumphalism Tim O’Neill”. Phew.

Elsewhere Carrier went even further, claiming 

I swear [O’Neill is] a crypto-Christian … that he’s actually posing as an atheist … pretending to be a Christian (? sic)… because the stuff he writes sounds way too fawning on Christianity and … ummm … anyway so … and too much like Christian apologetics really … very, very similar, very similar.

Interview with ‘Emperor Atheist’, 30 June 2018, 1:24.23 mins

And it seems this level of childish silliness is becoming about typical for this holder of “a Ph.D. in ancient history from Columbia University … a prestigious Ivy League school” (as he never ceases to remind us). Indeed, even some of his previously dogged defenders are beginning to realise that he is getting decidedly weird. And where once a mention of his name on atheist fora would bring showers of praise, now he attracts vastly less enthusiasm and more than a few observations that he is, in fact, a narcissistic jerk.

Of course, the sexual harassment claims against him have not helped his sinking reputation, but his own ridiculous punitive $2 million lawsuit against his accusers (which has, thankfully, been thrown out of court) has solidified the impression that he is a deeply petty and unpleasant little man. The documents he released into the public domain in relation to that suit also show how out of touch with reality he is. For an uncharitable but absolutely hilarious analysis of them see here. But make sure you have a good supply of popcorn.

So it seems the great “independent scholar” is reduced to this. The most kindly interpretation of his increasing weirdness is that he has realised that he has to play to his dwindling audience. With the total failure of his stillborn academic career and a seeming inability to accept this fact and go get a job in the real world like a grown-up, Carrier is reduced to being a perpetual grad student – couch surfing around the US peddling his pet theories to a shrinking pool of fans and posting stuff that will keep his Patreon donors happy and the paltry income they give him trickling in. This would seem like a pretty sad existence to most people, but it seems so long as he gets the attention he craves and the warm inner glow contrarianism bestows on narcissists, he is, in his own strange way, happy enough. Each to their own I suppose.