Schlect, Christopher 1996. The Why and How of History. In Repairing the Ruins: The Classical and Christian Challenge to Modern Education, ed. Douglas J. Wilson, 147-162. Moscow, ID: Canon Press. (All rights reserved. Reproduced by permission from Canon Press.)

WITH GOOD REASON, HERODOTUS OF HALICARNASSUS HAS BEEN called the Marco Polo of antiquity. He spent the better part of his life, some 2,500 years ago, traveling away from his home, a small coastal city on the south-Aegean coast of Asia Minor. He knew the Aegean region well, and probably visited Athens, then in its Golden Age, more than once. He went as far west as Italy; southward, he sailed the Nile clear to Assuan. His eastward travels took him to Babylon and Susa. To the north he sailed the Black Sea and up the rivers that flow into it. He learned of the customs and the past of the peoples he met, and he wrote down what he learned. He cleverly organized this vast amount of material according to the chronology of Persia, the great empire in his day. As he recounted Persia’s rise to preeminence, he told about each land she conquered, culminating in Persia’s failure to take Greece.

Ancient scribes and librarians copied his writings on papyrus scrolls. When they were rolled, visible on the outside of the papyrus—serving the purpose of titles on our modern-day book covers—was the following inscription: “Herodotus of Halicarnassus: Researches.” Before that time, the Greek word historian, here rendered “researches,” was a general term that could refer to any inquiry into any matter. But because of Herodotus, its meaning became much more specialized. History, as the term came to be understood, was born there: a systematic inquiry into past events and their relations to one another. One lexicographer notes that the meaning added to this term by Herodotus’ influence “marks a literary revolution.”2

Thus Herodotus is deemed “father of history.” This title is deserved, for he was among the first who sought to record events the way they actually transpired, and to critically weigh his sources of information. Others would follow in his steps: Thucydides, Xenophon, Polybius, Livy, Tacitus, to name but a few, as well as such great biographers as Suetonius, Diogenes Laertius, and especially Plutarch. What survives from these ancient sources supplies us with most of our knowledge of antiquity, and their writings are among the greatest works of Western literature. From Herodotus’ day forward, the value of historical study has been noted by all educated westerners, and history has taken on a fundamental role in education ever since.

Since the Reformation, Protestants have viewed historical study as a discipline that is essential for the church’s well-being and the success of the Gospel. In the sixteenth century, John Foxe committed his life to preserving the memory of those who suffered on account of the Gospel. His massive Actes and Monuments remains one of the church’s most precious possessions. In 1700, Cotton Mather completed his ponderous Magnalia Christi Americana (“The Great Works of Christ in America”) in order to remind his New England countrymen of their covenantal obligations to the God who had established them. The introduction to this work is an urgent exhortation to study history, a task which Mather viewed to be of utmost importance. His Magnalia is among the best primary sources for studying the New England Puritans.

A generation later Jonathan Edwards carefully penned accounts of the revivals he witnessed so that future generations would remember God’s work. The nineteenth century witnessed a tremendous flourish of historical study among Protestants, and the work of many Christian scholars of that period remain the best secondary sources of historical knowledge in the church.

Christians today are growing less and less interested in history, doing so despite our Lord’s command to preserve the knowledge of what He has done in the past (cf. Deut. 6:20-25; Josh. 4:5-7; 1 Chr. 16:7ff.; Lk. 17:32; etc.). The few historical writings that are published by Christians nowadays are not read widely. A look at the Christian book market reveals that the average churchman today has little interest even in remedial history. How many today can truthfully sing with David, “I remember the days of old; I meditate on all Your works; I muse on the work of Your hands” (Ps. 143:5)? We need a reminder of history’s importance, and the prominent role it ought to have in the Christian curriculum.

In their large published works, most classical historians explain why they have undertaken their study, often in prefatory comments. The historians of classical antiquity thought it their duty to do so, for any true scholar should demonstrate that his subject deserves study. Christian historians, far more than others, ought to know the importance of history. Given that our Lord judges those who waste time on vain pursuits, we had better be assured that history is worthwhile. In addition to Christian obedience, knowing the importance of one’s work carries the practical benefit of keeping both the worker motivated and his work focused. And as one’s understanding of his subject’s importance grows, the better his efforts will be directed.

So why is the study of history important? Naturally, Scripture provides the reasons. And by God’s grace, classical historians came to understand many of these reasons in spite of their ungodliness. With Scripture as our guide, then, we may learn the importance of historical study from many of these ancient scholars. After considering them, we will move on to the foundation—the testimony of Scripture.

Some may be tempted to weigh their own personal experience as sufficient training for life, finding little value in historical study. But if experience is a teacher (and indeed it is), history must be even more valuable. In the preface to his magnificent Library of History (completed c. 49 B.C.), Diodorus of Sicily explains why this is so. Those who compose histories, he says, help human society as a whole, “for by offering a schooling, which entails no danger, in what is advantageous they provide their readers, through such a presentation of events, with a most excellent kind of experience.” The experience offered by history is excellent because it is painless to the student. Diodorus continues:

For although the learning which is acquired by experience in each separate case, with all the attendant toils and dangers, does indeed enable a man to discern in each instance where utility lies, . . . yet the understanding of the failures and successes of other men, which is acquired by the study of history, affords a schooling that is free from actual experience of ills. . . . For it is an excellent thing to be able to use the ignorant mistakes of others as warning examples for the correction of error, and, when we confront the varied vicissitudes of life, instead of having to investigate what is being done now, to be able to imitate the successes which have been achieved in the past. Certainly all men prefer in their counsels the oldest men to those who are younger, because of the experience which has accrued to the former through the lapse of time; but it is a fact that such experience is in so far surpassed by the understanding which is gained from history, as history excels, we know, in the multitude of facts at its disposal. For this reason one may hold that the acquisition of a knowledge of history is of the greatest utility for every conceivable circumstance of life . . . (I.1.i-v)3

Diodorus’ a fortiori argument for the study of history is irrefutable. If learning comes through experience, then how much more does it come through the study of history! For history draws from far more numerous and varied experiences than one individual could ever attain in a lifetime, and this experience brings no bitter consequences to the student. Polybius (c. 208-126 B.C.) had said in this same connection, “The surest and indeed the only method of learning how to bear bravely the vicissitudes of fortune, is to recall the clamities of others” (I.1.ii).4

A second reason for history’s importance is found in the analysis of Thucydides, who stands alongside Herodotus as the greatest of historians. When war broke out between Athens and Sparta in 431 B.C. he resolved to record what transpired. While acknowledging man’s natural tendency to regard contemporary events as having utmost historical import, he notes that “this war will prove, for men who judge from the actual facts, to have been more important than any that went before” (I.21).5 He then weighs the Peloponnesian War against the great wars that had preceded his own day, especially the Trojan War and the Persian Wars. Thucydides was so convinced of the Peloponnesian War’s importance that he predicted that it would remain so to future generations. His reason for this is insightful, and it suggests something about the value of historical study. He writes,

[W]hosoever shall wish to have a clear view both of the events which have happened and of those which will some day, in all human probability, happen again in the same or a similar way for these to adjudge my history profitable will be enough for me. And, indeed, it has been composed, not as a prize-essay to be heard for the moment, but as a possession for all time. (I.22)6

Here, Thucydides holds his own work up to one of the great rules of history: similar events happen again and again. Or put more famously, history repeats itself. This is why we can learn from the past. For the circumstances we face today, and will face in the future, will resemble those that others have encountered before. Thus, the extent to which a historian’s work is a “possession for all time” depends upon how closely the events it covers relate to experiences which all men share. Indeed, the Peloponnesian War is quite remote to us in both time and geography. But Thucydides’ narrative of that war brilliantly depicts matters that all peoples face throughout time: the science of statecraft, along with the intricacies of alliances and diplomacy; the psychology of a people at war; a theatre-wide analysis of war strategy; the political and strategic impact of fighting, either on home or foreign soil; the assets and drawbacks of different types of leadership; the frailty of peace; and the list could go on. Those who have studied any of the great conflicts of modernity, from the Napoleonic Wars through Vietnam or the Cold War, will be thunderstruck by Thucydides’ continuing relevance. Understanding that history repeats itself, he extracted the timeless elements from his own era and used them to teach us about our world today, just as he has taught men for the last 2,500 years. Outside Scripture, there exist few better studies of corporate human nature than Thucydides’ History of the Peloponnesian War.

Thucydides articulates, and embodies, one very important reason to study history. Simply put, history is relevant. This is so because the past resembles the present and future, for no circumstance exists but that which is common to man. This observation also suggests a criterion for good historical study, being the sort that sheds light on the present and future.

Livy (59 B.C. to A.D. 17) devoted forty years of his life to the composition of his monumental history of Rome. His introduction to the 142-book masterpiece includes the following remark in praise of history, which, perhaps better than any other, offers a fitting conclusion to our discussion of the wisdom of the ancients on the value of historical study. The ancients saw history to be important for two reasons: first, because it draws from a wide range of human experiance that is gained without toil; and second, because that experience bears upon matters that all men face. Livy writes,

The study of history is the best medicine for a sick mind; for in history you have a record of the infinite variety of human experience plainly set out for all to see; and in that record you can find for yourself and your country both examples and warnings; fine things to take as models, base things, rotten through and through, to avoid. (I.1.x)7

The Basis of Historical Study

The historians of classical antiquity were much less successful in accounting for these tremendous benefits of history than they were in pointing them out. They knew well that history is very useful, as we have seen. But Christians will not be surprised to find that they couldn’t really explain why.

Diodorus offered the best self-conscious attempt. He made bold to consider the philosophical underpinnings of history by addressing the critical question, “How is it that past events correspond to the present and future?” He sought recourse in the Stoic doctrine of the universal kinship of man.

It has been the aspiration of these writers [i.e., historians] to marshal all men, who, although united one to another by their kinship, are yet separated by space and time, into one and the same orderly body. And such historians have therein shown themselves to be, as it were, ministers of Divine Providence. For just as Providence, having brought the orderly arrangement of the visible stars and the natures of men together into one common relationship, continually directs their courses through all eternity, apportioning to each that which falls to it by direction of fate, so likewise historians, in recording the common affairs of the inhabited world as though they were those of a single state, have made of their treatises a single reckoning of past events and a common clearing-house of knowledge concerning them. (I.1.iiiiv)

To a Stoic, Divine Providence is a vague pantheistic force, and human kinship is grounded in man’s participation in this force. Christian apologists can easily reduce ancient Stoic pantheism to absurdity. Yet there remains much to be appreciated in Diodorus’ thought even from a Christian standpoint. First, he rightly observes that historical study presupposes regularity over time in the affairs of men. If a genuinely novel circumstance entered the course of human events, history could not inform us about how to deal with it. Second, he correctly acknowledges that all men, in all times and cultures, share an essentially common nature. Historical study also presupposes this to be true, for if contemporary man bears no relation to men of the past, then the lessons of the past have no application today.

While Diodorus insightfully identifies the two basic presuppositions of historical study, his Stoicism fails to account for them. For pantheism cannot produce a coherent and knowable principle of order from its commitment to the absolute diversity of nature. But if Divine Providence is understood as it should be—as the personal governance of the triune God over all creation, and if human kinship is grounded in man’s unique status as God’s image-bearer, then what Diodorus had said would be quite accurate. In Christ, not in a pantheistic force, all creation coheres (Col. 1:17). God’s governance over His creation in Christ provides the regularity over time that is presupposed in historical study (cf. Gen. 8:22). Our connection to other men, even those in other times and places—also presupposed in historical study—is similarly grounded in God’s design for man. Paul introduced both these points to Athenian philosophers, some of them Stoics, saying, “God, who made the world and everything in it . . . gives to all life, breath, and all things. And he has made from one blood every nation of men to dwell on all the face of the earth, and has determined their preappointed times and the boundaries of their habitation” (Acts 17:24-26).

This God, the triune God of Scripture who has made Himself known in the person of Jesus Christ, is the God of human history. J.H. Merle D’Aubigne prefaced his multi-volume masterpiece, History of the Reformation (1835), with a profound declaration on this point:

History should live by that life which belongs to it, and that life is God. In history God should be acknowledged and proclaimed. The history of the world should be set forth as the annals of the government of the sovereign King.9

Only when history is understood this way is it worthwhile and intelligible. Even with all their genius and well-deserved influence, the classical historians failed to grasp history’s most essential feature. Another great church historian, Philip Schaff, summarizes the point very well in his History of the Christian Church: “The idea of universal history presupposes the idea of the unity of God, and the unity and common destiny of men, and was unknown to ancient Greece and Rome.”10

The Significance of History

From a Christian standpoint, the importance of understanding history is inestimable. Our faith rests on history, particularly on the ministry of Christ in history. Writing during the reign of Trajan, a century after Christ, the great historian Tacitus mentions “Christus” who had “undergone the death penalty in the reign of Tiberius, by sentence of the procurator Pontius Pilatus.”11 But we believe that Christ died for a better reason than that Tacitus tells us so. We believe the testimony of Scripture, the only infallible record of history. There we not only read that Christ died, but that he did so for our sins (1 Cor. 15:3), and that He also rose on the third day for our justification (Rom. 4:25). If this is not true historically, then our faith is vain (1 Cor. 15:14). Thus, the Gospel, the most basic distinctive of Christianity, is at root an historical matter.

Some have attempted to strip history from the Gospel. They have said that the core of our faith is an ever-present relationship with God, or a decision made here and now. Neo-orthodoxy teaches that the Christ of Calvary is trans-historical, a nebulous entity that is out of reach and yet ever-present. Such misconceptions made lasting inroads into mainstream Christianity around the turn of the 20th century, and among the apologists who saw the problem clearly was J. Gresham Machen, a true Christian and a true classicist. He forcefully contended that “a gospel independent of history is a contradiction in terms.”12 Machen’s opponents claimed then, as many still do, that true religion is grounded not in the Jesus of objective history, but in a subjective Jesus within the Christian himself. Scripture is thusly reduced to being, at most, a moral handbook or a talisman used to awaken the reader’s sentimentality. The historicity of its claims become perilously devalued. Machen rightly saw this as an attack upon the heart of the Christian faith. “We Christians are interested not merely in what God commands,” he wrote, “but also in what God did; the Christian religion is couched not merely in the imperative mood, but also in a triumphant indicative; our salvation depends squarely upon history; the Bible contains that history, and unless that history is true the authority of the Bible is gone and we who have put our trust in the Bible are without hope.”13

For Christians, history is important primarily because Christianity is based upon historical events. This sets Christianity apart from most other philosophies. Again, Machen:

The student of the New Testament should be primarily an historian. The center and core of all Bible is history. Everything else that the Bible contains is fitted into an historical framework that leads up to an historical climax. The Bible is primarily a record of events.14

In addition to the Gospel itself, Christianity advances other important historical claims. We might begin at creation, the historical veracity of which must be upheld to retain the integrity of the entire Christian worldview (Col. 1-2). Also, God created the rainbow to be a concrete history lesson, a reminder of His covenant with Noah and with all the flesh of the earth (Gen. 9:12- 17). Likewise, the Passover celebration was a required observance for the Israelites—a God-ordained history lesson about Israel’s redemption from bondage in Egypt (Ex. 12). Jesus instituted the Passover of the New Covenant in the same way, charging His disciples to “do this in remembrance of me” (Luke 22:19). In celebrating the Lord’s supper, like the Passover of the Old Covenant, we are commanded to remember historical truth—in this case, the breaking of our Lord’s body and the spilling of His blood. Both the Old and New institutions of the Passover are, among other things, history lessons.

Heinous sins are traced to a neglect of historical knowledge. Asaph reminds us that the faithless children of Ephraim turned back in the day of battle, for “they refused to walk in His law, and forgot His works and His wonders that He had shown them” (Ps. 78:9-11). They sinned because they forgot what God had done—they forgot history.

In the same Psalm, Asaph exhorts fathers to instruct their children about God’s character as it is displayed in history: “telling to the generation to come the praises of the Lord, and His strength and His wonderful works that He has done” (v. 4). Why must fathers do this? That their children would in turn declare the same lesson to the following generation, “that they may set their hope in God, and not forget the works of God, but keep His commandments (v. 7). Note that keeping God’s commandments is set here in direct contrast to forgetting the works of God, which are recorded in the annals of history. Christians therefore have a duty both to learn and to teach history.

As a case in point, we may note the Israelites of Jeroboam’s time. As part of his scheme to accede the throne of Israel, he convinced the people to neglect their duty to worship Yahweh, and bow to idols instead. Had the people remembered their history, they would never have bowed down to Jeroboam’s gold calves. They would have known better when he made this patently false historical claim: “Here are your gods, O Israel, which brought you up from the land of Egypt” (1 Kings 12:28). Not knowing their history, the Israelites were duped by a revisionist. We must raise our children to avoid the sin that ensnared Israel in Jeroboam’s time.
The History Curriculum

In heeding the charge to study history, we must first consider what history to study. Do we focus upon ancient history? Economic history? the history of labor unions? the history of art? Of Christian doctrine? of rock music of the 60’s? Actually, all such history is important and worth a Christian’s attention. But some types of history are more basic than others and should be deemed essential for an adequate education, whereas others might be set aside for the specialist. Most anything that exists has a history, so naturally, not all histories could be addressed here. Just a few will be considered, and those only at a theoretical level.

Recently, there has been a trend to place great emphasis on modern history. Many textbooks that supposedly survey world or western history may have a paragraph on Julius Caesar, a very brief (if any) mention of Pericles, and two extensive chapters on the Second World War. Theodosius I, who made Christianity the official religion of the Roman Empire, lived about midway between the Trojan War and our day. But if he is mentioned in a text at all, we surely will not find him anywhere close to the middle of the textbook. Almost certainly he would be found in one of the opening chapters. This curricular fad of playing up more recent history at the expense of the “ancient” world is truly regrettable, as we shall see. Secularists defend this emphasis on the grounds that modernity is more relavent, a claim which assumes an evolutionary view of human society. But Christians know that neither human nature nor God’s ways have changed through the ages. Of course, God’s kingdom has advanced, and continues to do so as we move along toward the day when His last enemies are defeated (cf. 1 Cor. 15:22-26). But this consideration does not entail the conclusion that the most recent development in God’s plan is the most significant to us simply because it is most recent.

Teachers should focus on those periods of history that have been especially monumentous in God’s plan. Of course, most central is the period surrounding the ministry of Christ. The political, social, and intellectual history of Rome around the turn of the millennium is therefore obvously important. Hellenic and Hellenistic studies will provide the context for this era. Similarly, the recovery of the Gospel during the Reformation, and the concurrent humanism of the Renaissance, both of which have left an indelible impact upon the course of human affairs, should receive special treatment. The influence of thinkers like Plato, Aristotle, Augustine, Calvin, and Kant cannot be overstated. Secular histories do not give due attention to developments in church history that Christians know to be very important, such as the persecutions and doctrinal controversies of the early church, the papacies of Gregory I, Gregory VII, Boniface VIII, church councils, and other like matters.

Provincial history is also important, but note that its importance is of a different sort than that of the events mentioned in the previous paragraph. Provincial history sets the issues of one’s own day in their rightful context. But the issues of our day, in our locale, will be far less significant to future generations or to people living elsewhere. Provincial history reviews the events of the recent past going back a few generations, and local history. For example, a child growing up in Texas should learn the history of Texas; those in the United States should study U.S. History, etc.

Whether economic, aesthetic, political, intellectual, or social history is more important depends upon which of these arenas holds the greater sway at a given time. Given that all these arenas are interrelated, this can be difficult to determine. Traditionally, political history is given the most attention, but recent trends in curriculum have helped to bring more recognition to other areas. The kings and the wars of the Renaissance were not nearly as noteworthy as Raphael, Michelangelo, or Brunelleschi. While the Congress of Vienna changed Europe’s political landscape, its impact was hard to see even a century later. But at the same time as the Congress convened, one Viennese resident was changing the world forever. Beethoven’s music, especially his symphonies, may one day prove to have the most profound, lasting impact of any nineteenth-century events.

While teachers must decide what to teach, they must also determine how to teach it. Remember, the goal is to impart the tools of learning history in order to equip the student to one day venture out on his own and study the subject. They must be taught to interact with primary sources, and to critically evaluate how historical writers treat their sources. These are the tools of historical learning. It makes little sense to learn about Julius Caesar from a book published last year when there is such a wealth of ancient testimony about him.

Studying history should be an important pursuit of God’s people. We are commanded to learn and teach history for His glory. Faithful instruction in history will be blessed by the wisdom gained from the lessons of past men’s experiences. Christian schools should be centers of historical learning, where the next generation comes to understand the great works that God has done, that they may learn to praise Him for His perfect governance over the affairs of men, and teach future generations to do the same.

1 W. John Cook, ed, The New Testament: Its Literature and History (Edinburgh: The Banner of Truth Trust, 1976), p. 10.
2 Croiset, cited in How and Wells, A Commentary on Herodotus, (London:Oxford, 1928), Vol. 1, p. 53.
3 Diodorus, Library of History, C.H. Oldfather, trans. (Cambridge:Harvard University Press; Loeb Classical Library, 1933), pp. 5, 7.
4 Polybius, The Histories of Polybius, W.R. Paton, trans. (Cambridge:Harvard University Press; Loeb Classical Library, 1928), Vol. 1, p. 3.
5 Thucydides, History of the Peloponnesian War, Charles Forster Smith,trans. (Cambridge: Harvard University Press; Loeb Classical Library, 1928), Vol. 1, p. 39.
6 Ibid., p. 41.
7 Livy, The Early History of Rome, Aubrey de Selincourt, trans. (London: Penguin, 1971), p. 34.
8 Diodorus, Library of History, Vol. 1, pp. 6-8.
9 J. H. Merle D’Aubigne, History of the Reformation (New York: AmericanTract Society, 1835) Vol. 1, p. 21.
10 Philip Schaff, History of the Christian Church (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, [1910] 1991), Vol. 1, p. 2.
11 Tacitus, Annals XV.44, John Jackson, trans. (Cambridge: HarvardUniversity Press; Loeb Classical Library, 1937), Vol. 5, p. 283.
12 J. Gresham Machen, Christianity and Liberalism (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1923), p. 121.
13 J. Gresham Machen, The Virgin Birth of Christ (New York, NY: Harper & Row, 1930), p. 385.
14 “History and Faith” in What is Christianity, Ned Stonehouse, ed. (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1951), p. 170.