The Founding of Christendom, by Warren H. Carroll, is the first volume in a projected six-volume series of the history of Christendom from the earliest days until the present. Five of the six volumes are now in print. By the term Christendom, Carroll harks back to the age when the Christian world was more or less united, first in both religion and politics, then in religion only—back to the birth, in fact, of Western Civilization. This volume covers the span from the beginning of time, more or less, up until the Emperor Constantine.

As such, he’s writing sacred history rather than secular history, and sacred history from an explicitly (and unabashedly) Catholic point of view. The difference is one of method. The secular historian, though he may be a believer, does not take the truth of his religion as part of the data he uses to explain and describe the course of history. The sacred historian does. Both methods are fraught with peril.

If Christianity is true, then the Incarnation is simply the central fact of all human existence. History which ignores this fact, then, runs the risk of missing the main point, and can also get into all sorts of knots. During the 19th and 20th century, for example, followers of the historical-critical method of scripture scholarship rejected the traditional dates for the writing of many of the books of the Bible, on the basis of “internal evidence”. The logic was often of this kind: this book contains statements that appear to prophesy this historical happening. Such “prophecy” must therefore have been written after the historical happening it describes. Therefore, the book wasn’t written when tradition says it was written, but fifty, one-hundred, two-hundred years later.

There is a hidden premise in this chain of reasoning: that historical events can never be prophesied in advance. And this use of the historical-critical method was driven by a secularizing desire to “de-fang” Christianity of its supernatural elements. But if Christianity is true, it is precisely those supernatural elements on which it insists. But whatever the cause, bad scholarship leads one to be build amazing houses-of-cards; and it’s my understanding that those houses are collapsing and scripture scholarship is returning more or less to the traditional dating for the books of the Bible.

So Carroll’s project is a worthy one; written from an explicitly Catholic point of view, he rejects the ideological incredulity that prevents us from seeing the Hand of God at work among us.

But there’s a great possibility of error on Carroll’s side, as well, the possibility of excess of credulity. His book is full of events and written sources that historians generally reject, for reasons, according to Carroll, like those I’ve described above, but that Carroll, doing his research with the eyes of faith has decided are likely true. And that’s the great difficulty with this book. I’m a bit of a history buff, but I’m not a historian; and if Carroll goes too far, I’m not sure how I’d know. Given that he rejects conventional wisdom so frequently, it seems likely that he does.

All that said, each chapter of the book is accompanied by many pages of end notes, citing sources, especially those of the authors who disagree with him. I cannot question Carroll’s integrity as a scholar; rather, he seems to be playing fair. It’s his judgement I’m unsure of.

So much for sacred vs. secular history; how is The Founding of Christendom as a book? How is it as a way to become familiar with the sweep of human history?

First, Carroll’s book is quite readable and informative. I learned a few things, and was told a number of others that I’m curious to look into further. It casts an interesting light on ages and events that I’ve already read a fair amount about. Sacred history usually focusses on the history of the Church; Carroll is focussing on the things that secular historians usually write about, but from a Christian slant. I like that.

The big question, though, is whether this would be a good first book on this period of time, for a reader who is unfamiliar with it, and I’m not at sure that it would. As I indicated above, some of Carroll’s conclusions strike me as being possibly rather idiosyncratic; and then, he seems to assume that the reader has at least a cursory familiarity with the broad sweep of things. Thus, it might be best to acquire that familiarity elsewhere.

I’ve not yet decided whether or not I’ll look up the second book in the series.