Did Dinosaurs Die Before the Fall?

Did animals die before the Fall of Man?

St. Paul tells us:

“For as by a man came death, by a man has come also the resurrection of the dead. For as in Adam all die, so also in Christ shall all be made alive” (1 Cor. 15:21-22). 

Does this mean that there was no death–of any kind–before the Fall of Man?

Would that mean that no animals, plants, or microbes died?

What about animals that are carnivores?

Were lions vegetarians? How about alligators? Or sharks?

How about carnivores like Tyrannosaurus Rex?

Let’s take a look at the subject . . .

 

A Key Concept

To set the stage, I need to introduce a key concept: entropy.

Entropy is a very important concept in the sciences. Put simply, entropy is the tendency of things to run down or break down over time.

Systems that are subject to entropy tend to dissipate energy and lose organization over time.

Entropy is the reason why the stars shine, and it’s the reason that you get hungry.

As stars burn their fuel, the heat and light they produce spreads out into the universe. It dissipates.

If stars weren’t subject to entropy then all the energy they generate wouldn’t dissipate. It would stay bundled up in the star.

As your body burns fuel (food), you dissipate energy, too–partly in the form of body heat. That’s why you need to eat, to replenish your body’s fuel.

If you weren’t subject to entropy, your energy would never flag, and you wouldn’t need to eat.

Now here’s the thing . . .

 

The Whole Material Universe Is Entropic

The entire physical universe, so far as we can tell, is entropic, or subject to entropy.

All material systems run down or break down over time.

A seeming, partial exception is life. Living things, in some respects, seem to gather energy and create organization.

Thus some have tried to define life in terms of a kind of weird anti-entropy.

But the exception is, at best, partial, because all living things die. Ultimately, entropy overcomes every living organism.

So what about death before the Fall?

And what about our prospects for immortality after the General Resurrection?

KEEP READING.

Did Animals Die Before the Fall?

St. Paul tells us:

“For as by a man came death, by a man has come also the resurrection of the dead. For as in Adam all die, so also in Christ shall all be made alive” (1 Cor. 15:21-22).

Does this mean that there was no death–of any kind–before the Fall of Man?

Would that mean that no animals, plants, or microbes died?

What about animals that are carnivores?

Were lions vegetarians? How about alligators? Or sharks?

Let’s take a look at the subject . . .

 

A Key Concept

To set the stage, I need to introduce a key concept: entropy.

Entropy is a very important concept in the sciences. Put simply, entropy is the tendency of things to run down or break down over time.

Systems that are subject to entropy tend to dissipate energy and lose organization over time.

Entropy is the reason why the stars shine, and it’s the reason that you get hungry.

As stars burn their fuel, the heat and light they produce spreads out into the universe. It dissipates.

If stars weren’t subject to entropy then all the energy they generate wouldn’t dissipate. It would stay bundled up in the star.

As your body burns fuel (food), you dissipate energy, too–partly in the form of body heat. That’s why you need to eat, to replenish your body’s fuel.

If you weren’t subject to entropy, your energy would never flag, and you wouldn’t need to eat.

Now here’s the thing . . .

 

The Whole Material Universe Is Entropic

The entire physical universe, so far as we can tell, is entropic, or subject to entropy.

All material systems run down or break down over time.

A seeming, partial exception is life. Living things, in some respects, seem to gather energy and create organization.

Thus some have tried to define life in terms of a kind of weird anti-entropy.

But the exception is, at best, partial, because all living things die. Ultimately, entropy overcomes every living organism.

So what about death before the Fall?

And what about our prospects for immortality after the General Resurrection?

 

St. Thomas Aquinas on Material Things

Although the term “entropy” hadn’t been coined in his day, St. Thomas Aquinas recognized that it was the tendency of all material things to break down over time.

In his day, they referred to this as the tendency of material things to “corrupt” and to the idea that material things are “corruptible.”

It’s the same basic insight people have today; they just used different language to express it.

Given that man has a material body, how does Aquinas explain the idea that death entered the world through sin?

 

Give Me Immortality or Give Me Death!

Aquinas’s basic answer is that, because man’s body is material, it would have a natural tendency to run down and break down–to “corrupt”–over time.

Thus, in that sense, death is natural to man.

The human body will eventually die . . . unless something stops that from happening.

Nature can be supported and elevated by grace, though, and so it is within the power of God’s omnipotence to prevent death.

And God chose to do this. He gave man the grace needed to avoid dying, but we lost this grace through the Fall.

Aquinas writes:

Now God, who is the author of man, is all-powerful, wherefore when He first made man, He conferred on him the favor of being exempt from the necessity resulting from such a matter: which favor, however, was withdrawn through the sin of our first parents.

Accordingly death is both natural on account of a condition attaching to matter, and penal on account of the loss of the divine favor preserving man from death [Summa Theologiae, II-II:164:1 ad 1; cf. I:97:1].

This also explains how we will be immortal after the General Resurrection: After the General Resurrection, God will restore to us the grace needed to prevent our bodies from breaking down over time.

Indeed, he will do far more than that.

So much for man.

 

What About the Animals?

Hypothetically, God could have done the same thing for the animals (and all other life forms) that he did for us: He could have made them initially immune to death and then removed this grace when man fell.

But did he?

Aquinas doesn’t think so.

He writes:

In the opinion of some, those animals which now are fierce and kill others, would, in that state, have been tame, not only in regard to man, but also in regard to other animals.

But this is quite unreasonable. For the nature of animals was not changed by man’s sin, as if those whose nature now it is to devour the flesh of others, would then have lived on herbs, as the lion and falcon.

Nor does Bede’s gloss on Genesis 1:30, say that trees and herbs were given as food to all animals and birds, but to some.

Thus there would have been a natural antipathy between some animals [Summa Theologiae I:96:1 ad 2].

Aquinas thus holds that it was not all death that entered the world through man’s sin, but human death.

In his view, animals could and did kill and eat each other before the Fall.

Can we do anything to test this view?

 

Good Morning, Starshine

You have to be careful looking to Genesis with an eye toward mining scientific ideas out of it.

The purpose of the creation accounts in Genesis is to present the work of the Creator in a religious and theological way rather than in a scientific way.

Thus John Paul II warned:

Above all, this [creation] text has a religious and theological importance. It doesn’t contain significant elements from the point of view of the natural sciences. Research on the origin and development of the individual species in nature does not find in this description any definitive norm or positive contributions of substantial interest [General Audience, Jan. 29, 1986].

But it is worth noting that, even on a highly literalist reading, Genesis does envision the pre-Fall universe in a way that suggest the existence of death for non-humans.

First, there is the fact that the sun and the stars are shining before the Fall.

Second, there is the fact that God gives Adam and Eve permission to eat the various fruits found in the Garden of Eden (except for one). Thus, Adam and Eve needed food.

Both of these facts indicate that the pre-Fall universe was subject to entropy.

Living things in the pre-Fall universe would have had the same tendency to run down, break down, and die–unless supported by God’s grace, as in the case of man.

 

Death Visits the Plant Kingdom

We can go even further, though, because of God’s permission to eat fruit.

That means death. Specifically, the death of the fruit’s flesh (and its seeds, if those get chewed up, too).

The fruit’s flesh (and its seeds) are alive. They’re made of living cells.

The seeds are even little fruit embryos, which makes them independent organisms.

Of course, they aren’t human.

They aren’t rational beings, so they don’t have rights or a right to life, and it’s okay to eat them.

But they do die when we eat and digest them.

The same thing is true of other plant matter we eat.

 

Dinosaur Death Before the Fall?

The subjection of the pre-Fall universe to entropy and the existence of plant death before the Fall have significant implications for the question of animal death.

We know from these that, because of entropy, every living organism (including animals) would die unless supported by grace.

We also do not have any indication that life forms other than man had access to the grace needed for immortality (the tree of life). Nothing is said about them eating from it.

And we know, because of the permission to eat plants, that some living things did die, either on the level of cells (as in the case of a fruit’s flesh) or on the case of an organism (in the case of a seed).

Absent any particular reason to group animals with humans rather than plants, one would naturally expect animals to have died prior to the Fall as well.

That includes dinosaurs.

This conclusion seems reinforced by the fact that some of them are carnivores.

And it seems abundantly reinforced by the fossil record.

Given what we now know, it looks like Aquinas was right: It was human death, not all death, that is the result of the Fall of Man.

 

Back to St. Paul

This seems to be what St. Paul had in mind in the passage we began with.

Note that he spoke in terms of human death and resurrection–of death and resurrection coming to those who are “in Adam” and “in Christ” (“For as in Adam all die, so also in Christ shall all be made alive”).

The Christian faith does not envision animals fitting those descriptions.

St. Paul himself thus seems to be speaking of human death entering the world.

The same is true of the parallel passage in Romans 5:

Therefore as sin came into the world through one man and death through sin, and so death spread to all men because all men sinned [Rom. 5:12].

7 things Pope Francis wants you to know about Jesus’ Ascension

Recently Pope Francis explained Jesus' mysterious Ascension into heaven. Here are 7 things he wants you to know about it.

Whether your diocese celebrates the Ascension of Christ on Thursday or Sunday, the time is upon us.

Recently, Pope Francis gave an explanation of the Ascension, what it means, and how it affects our lives.

Here are 7 things he wants you to know.

 

1) Your Holiness, what is a good starting point for understanding the Ascension?

[Pope Francis:] Let us start from the moment when Jesus decided to make his last pilgrimage to Jerusalem.

St Luke notes: “When the days drew near for him to be received up, he set his face to go to Jerusalem” (Lk 9:51).

While he was “going up” to the Holy City, where his own “exodus” from this life was to occur, Jesus already saw the destination, heaven, but he knew well that the way which would lead him to the glory of the Father passed through the Cross, through obedience to the divine design of love for mankind.

The Catechism of the Catholic Church states that: “The lifting up of Jesus on the cross signifies and announces his lifting up by his Ascension into heaven” (n. 662).

 

2) What can we learn from this?

We too should be clear in our Christian life that entering the glory of God demands daily fidelity to his will, even when it demands sacrifice and sometimes requires us to change our plans.

The Ascension of Jesus actually happened on the Mount of Olives, close to the place where he had withdrawn to pray before the Passion in order to remain in deep union with the Father: Once again we see that prayer gives us the grace to be faithful to God’s plan.

 

3) How does Luke’s Gospel describe the Ascension?

KEEP READING.

The Name of the Doctor

They're about to reveal Doctor Who's name. Here are some thoughts . . .

We’re just about up to the final episode of the current season of Doctor Who.

The title of the episode is “The Name of the Doctor,” and it promises to reveal the Doctor’s actual name, something that has never been revealed in the 50-year history of the show.

We’ll apparently learn the Doctor’s name–and why he’s kept is secret all this time–at 8 p.m. on Saturday, May 18, when “The Name of the Doctor” airs on BBC America (or a few hours earlier, if you’re in the U.K.).

Here are a few thoughts . . .

 

Will They Really Reveal It?

I’m guessing that they will.

This runs the risk of taking an element of the mystery out of the show, but they’ve been teasing the audience with the idea for some time, and recently they’ve ramped that up in a big way.

With all the teasing, with titling the season’s final episode the way they did, and with putting “His Secret Revealed” on the promotional poster (above), they’ll have a lot of hacked off fans if they fail to deliver.

 

How Might They Cheat The Audience?

I can think of at least a couple of ways.

KEEP READING.

Pronoun Trouble

They're butchering the Swedish language! And it isn't the Swedish chef who's doing it!

Even Slate Magazine seems skeptical of a recent move in Sweden to introduce a genderless personal pronoun into the Swedish language:

Earlier this month, the movement for gender neutrality reached a milestone: Just days after International Women’s Day a new pronoun, hen (pronounced like the bird in English), was added to the online version of the country’s National Encyclopedia.

The entry defines hen as a “proposed gender-neutral personal pronoun instead of he [han in Swedish] and she [hon].”

The National Encyclopedia announcement came amid a heated debate about gender neutrality that has been raging in Swedish newspaper columns and TV studios and on parenting blogs and feminist websites.

It was sparked by the publication of Sweden’s first ever gender-neutral children’s book, Kivi och Monsterhund (Kivi and Monsterdog). It tells the story of Kivi, who wants a dog for “hen’s” birthday.

The male author, Jesper Lundqvist, introduces several gender-neutral words in the book. For instance the words mammor and pappor (moms and dads) are replaced with mappor and pammor.

Slate’s skepticism emerges in a subsequent passage noting the Orwellian attempt to force children to behave against their nature:

Ironically, in the effort to free Swedish children from so-called normative behavior, gender-neutral proponents are also subjecting them to a whole set of new rules and new norms as certain forms of play become taboo, language becomes regulated, and children’s interactions and attitudes are closely observed by teachers.

One Swedish school got rid of its toy cars because boys “gender-coded” them and ascribed the cars higher status than other toys.

Another preschool removed “free playtime” from its schedule because, as a pedagogue at the school put it, when children play freely “stereotypical gender patterns are born and cemented. In free play there is hierarchy, exclusion, and the seed to bullying.”

And so every detail of children’s interactions gets micromanaged by concerned adults, who end up problematizing minute aspects of children’s lives, from how they form friendships to what games they play and what songs they sing.

What to make of all this?

8 things to know and share about St. Catherine of Siena

St. Catherine of Siena is a saint, mystic, and doctor of the Church. Here are 8 things about her to know and share.

April 29th is the memorial of St. Catherine of Siena.

She is a saint, a mystic, and a doctor of the Church, as well as a patroness of Italy and of Europe.

Who was she, and why is her life so significant?

Here are 8 things to know and share . . .

1. Who is St. Catherine of Siena?

In 2010, Pope Benedict gave an audience in which he discussed the basic facts of her life:

Born in Siena [Italy] in 1347, into a very large family, she died in Rome in 1380.

When Catherine was 16 years old, motivated by a vision of St Dominic, she entered the Third Order of the Dominicans, the female branch known as the Mantellate.

While living at home, she confirmed her vow of virginity made privately when she was still an adolescent and dedicated herself to prayer, penance and works of charity, especially for the benefit of the sick.

Note from her birth and death dates that she only lived to be 33 years old. Nevertheless, a lot happened during her life!

2. What happened after St. Catherine entered religious life?

Quite a number of things. St. Catherine was sought out as a spiritual director, and she played a role in ending the Avignon papacy (when the pope, though still the bishop of Rome, actually lived in Avignon, France).

Pope Benedict explains:

When the fame of her holiness spread, she became the protagonist of an intense activity of spiritual guidance for people from every walk of life: nobles and politicians, artists and ordinary people, consecrated men and women and religious, including Pope Gregory XI who was living at Avignon in that period and whom she energetically and effectively urged to return to Rome.

She travelled widely to press for the internal reform of the Church and to foster peace among the States.

It was also for this reason that Venerable Pope John Paul II chose to declare her Co-Patroness of Europe: may the Old Continent never forget the Christian roots that are at the origin of its progress and continue to draw from the Gospel the fundamental values that assure justice and harmony.

3. Did she face opposition in her lifetime?

KEEP READING.

8 things to know and share about St. Mark and his gospel

April 25 is the feast of St. Mark, companion of the apostles and evangelist. Here are 8 things about him to know and share.

April 25 is the feast of St. Mark, one of the companions of the apostles and the author of one of the gospels.

Who was he, and what do the Bible and the Church Fathers record about him?

Here are 8 things to know and share . . .

 

1. Who was St. Mark?

St. Mark is commonly identified as:

  • The figure John Mark from the book of Acts
  • The figure referred to in St. Paul’s epistles simply as “Mark”
  • The figure in St. Peter’s epistles also referred to simply as “Mark”
  • The author of the second gospel
  • The first bishop of Alexandria, Egypt

 

2. What does the book of Acts tell us about Mark?

We first meet him in chapter 12, just after the martyrdom of James the son of Zebedee (the first of the apostles to be martyred).

At this time, Peter was captured and his martyrdom scheduled, but he was miraculously freed from prison. When this happened, Luke records:

When he realized this, he went to the house of Mary, the mother of John whose other name was Mark, where many were gathered together and were praying [Acts 12:12].

Mark then began to play a prominent role in the life of the Church, becoming the travelling companion of the apostles Paul and Barnabas:

And Barnabas and Saul returned from Jerusalem when they had fulfilled their mission, bringing with them John whose other name was Mark [Acts 12:25].

 

3. How did Mark cause an argument between Paul and Barnabas?

KEEP READING.

What year was Jesus born? The answer may surprise you

What year was Jesus born? The answer may surprise you.

You might think that Jesus was born in the Year Zero–between 1 B.C. and A.D. 1.

You often hear that Jesus was born around 6-7 B.C.

The evidence from the Bible and the Church Fathers, however, support a different year.

Here’s what the evidence says . . .

 

Not in Year Zero

There is a good reason why Jesus wasn’t born in Year Zero: There wasn’t one.

The sequence of years before Christ ends at 1 B.C. and the A.D. series picks up the very next year with A.D. 1.

This is a bit surprising to us, since we’re used to working with number lines that have a zero on them, but zero wasn’t a concept on the intellectual scene when our way of reckoning years was developed.

If it helps, you can think about it this way: Suppose you have a child and you want to date events relative to that child’s birth. The first year before the child was born would be 1 B.C. (Before the Child), and the first year after his birth (that is, the year ending with his first birthday) would be the first year of the child.

If the child happens to be the Lord, that would be the first year of the Lord, which in Latin is Anno Domini, from which we get A.D.

Thus there is no Year Zero between 1 B.C. and A.D. 1.

(BTW, please note that the “A.D.” goes before the number. “A.D. 2013” = “The Year of the Lord 2013,” which is an intelligible phrase. If you write “2013 A.D.” that would be “2013 the Year of the Lord,” which is gibberish.)

So what year was Jesus born?

 

1 B.C.?

The guy who developed the way we reckon years was a 6th-century monk named Dionysius Exiguus (“Dennis the Short”).

He apparently thought Christ was born in 1 B.C. (actually, it’s a bit more complex than that, but we’ll keep this simple).

Today most think this date is a little too late and that the evidence supports a date a few years earlier.

 

6-7 B.C.?

For a little more than a century, the idea has been popular that Jesus was born in 6-7 B.C.

The reasoning goes like this: Jesus was born late in the reign of Herod the Great, who died in 4 B.C.

Furthermore, the wise men saw the star rise in the east two years before they came to visit Jerusalem, where they met Herod.

Back up two years from 4 B.C. and you get 6 B.C.

Back up another year in case Herod didn’t die immediately after they visited, and you get 7 B.C.

So: 6 or 7 B.C.

The problem, as we saw in a previous post, is that the arguments that Herod died in 4 B.C. are exceptionally weak.

 

3-4 B.C.?

Let’s take the same logic as above and plug in the more likely date of Herod’s death.

As we saw in a previous post, the evidence points to him dying in 1 B.C.

So . . . back up two years from that and you get 3 B.C.

Back up another year for cushion and you get 4 B.C.

Thus: 3-4 B.C.

That’s not an unreasonable estimate, but there are two problems with it:

  1. It’s got a couple of problematic assumptions.
  2. Other evidence, including other evidence from the Bible, suggests it’s a little too early.

The problematic assumptions are that the star was first visible in the east at the moment of Jesus’ birth and that it was visible for a full two years prior to the magi’s arrival.

The first of these assumptions is problematic (among other reasons) because its appearance could be connected with another point in Jesus’ life, such as his conception. If that were the case, you’d need to shave nine months off to find the point of his birth.

It’s also problematic because Matthew doesn’t say that the star appeared two years earlier. What he says is that Herod killed all the baby boys in Bethlehem that were two years old and under, in accord with the time he learned from the magi.

That means that there is some approximating going on here.

Herod would certainly want to make sure the child was dead, and he would err on the side of . . . well, the side of caution from his perspective.

That is, he would to some degree over-estimate how old the child might be in order to be sure of wiping him out.

Thus all the boys two and under were killed.

That means Jesus was at most two years old, but he was likely younger than that.

What may well have happened is Herod may have been told that the star appeared a year ago and he decided to kill all the boys a year on either side of this to make sure of getting the right one.

And then there’s the fact that the ancients often counted parts of a year as a full year in their reckoning, so “two years” might mean “one year plus part of a second year.”

All this suggests that two years was the maximum amount of time earlier that Jesus was born, and likely it was less than that.

Thus . . .

 

2-3 B.C.?

This date would be indicated if we start with Herod’s death in 1 B.C. and then, taking into account the factors named above, backed up only one year, suggesting 2 B.C.

Then, if we back up another year to allow for the fact Herod didn’t die immediately, that would suggest 3 B.C.

So, sometime between 2-3 B.C. would be reasonable, based on what we read in Matthew.

Do we have other evidence suggesting this date?

We do.

Both inside and outside the Bible.

 

The Gospel of Luke

Although Luke offers some helpful clues about the timing of Jesus’ birth, we don’t know enough to make full use of them.

The date of the enrollment ordered by Augustus is notoriously controversial, for example, and too complex to go into here.

However, later indications he gives in his gospel are quite interesting.

He records, for example, that John the Baptist began his ministry in “the fifteenth year of Tiberius Caesar” (3:1).

Tiberius became emperor after Augustus died in August of A.D. 14. Roman historians (e.g., Tacitus, Suetonius), however, tended to skip part years and begin counting an emperor’s reign with the first January 1 after they took office.

On that reckoning, the fifteenth year of Tiberius Caesar would correspond to what we call A.D. 29. (Remember, the 15th year is the time between the completion of the 14th year and the completion of the 15th year, the same way a child’s first year is the time between his birth and his first birthday.)

Jesus’ ministry starts somewhat after John’s, but it doesn’t appear to be very long. Perhaps only a few weeks or months.

If so, Jesus’ ministry also likely started in A.D. 29.

That’s important, because Luke gives us a second clue: He says Jesus was “about thirty years of age” when he began his ministry (3:23).

So, if you take A.D. 29 and back up thirty years, when does that land you?

You might think in 1 B.C., but remember that there’s no Year Zero, so it would actually be 2 B.C.

Or the end of 3 B.C. if Luke was counting Tiberius’s reign from when he became emperor rather than from the next January 1.

Thus: 2-3 B.C. is a reasonable estimate.

That’s still only an estimate, though, because Jesus could have been a little less or a little more than thirty.

(For purposes of comparison, note that when Luke describes the age of Jairus’s daughter, he says she was “about twelve”; 8:42. So Luke doesn’t seem to go in for rounding things to the nearest 5 years; he tries to be more precise than that. When Luke says Jesus was “about thirty,” he’s probably not envisioning anything between 25 and 35 but a range narrower than that.)

To confirm our estimate, it would be nice if we had an exact naming of the year Jesus was born, and in fact we do . . .

 

The Fathers Know Best

There is a startling consensus among early Christian sources about the year of Jesus’ birth.

Here is a table adapted from Jack Finegan’s excellent Handbook of Biblical Chronology (p. 291) giving the dates proposed by different sources:

The Alogoi

4 B.C. or A.D. 9

Cassiodorus Senator

3 B.C.

St. Irenaeus of Lyon

 3 B.C. or 2 B.C.

St. Clement of Alexandria

 3 B.C. or 2 B.C.

Tertullian of Carthage

 3 B.C. or 2 B.C.

Julius Africanus

 3 B.C. or 2 B.C.

St. Hippolytus of Rome

 3 B.C. or 2 B.C.

“Hippolytus of Thebes”

 3 B.C. or 2 B.C.

Origen of Alexandria

 3 B.C. or 2 B.C.

Eusebius of Caesarea

 3 B.C. or 2 B.C.

Epiphanius of Salamis

 3 B.C. or 2 B.C.

Orosius

2 B.C.

Dionysius Exiguus

1 B.C.

The Chronographer of the Year 354

A.D. 1

As you can see, except for a few outliers (including our influential friend, Dionysius Exiguus), there is strong support for Jesus being born in either 3 or 2 B.C.

And note that some of the sources in this table are quite ancient. Irenaeus of Lyon, Clement of Alexandria, Tertullian, Julius Africanus, and Hippolytus of Rome all wrote in the late 100s or early 200s.

We thus have strong indication–from a careful reading of Matthew, from Luke, and from the Church Fathers–that Jesus was born in 3 or 2 B.C.

What year was Jesus born? The answer may surprise you

What year was Jesus born? The answer may surprise you.

You might think that Jesus was born in the Year Zero–between 1 B.C. and A.D. 1.

You often hear that Jesus was born around 6-7 B.C.

The evidence from the Bible and the Church Fathers, however, support a different year.

Here’s what the evidence says . . .

 

Not in Year Zero

There is a good reason why Jesus wasn’t born in Year Zero: There wasn’t one.

The sequence of years before Christ ends at 1 B.C. and the A.D. series picks up the very next year with A.D. 1.

This is a bit surprising to us, since we’re used to working with number lines that have a zero on them, but zero wasn’t a concept on the intellectual scene when our way of reckoning years was developed.

If it helps, you can think about it this way: Suppose you have a child and you want to date events relative to that child’s birth. The first year before the child was born would be 1 B.C. (Before the Child), and the first year after his birth (that is, the year ending with his first birthday) would be the first year of the child.

If the child happens to be the Lord, that would be the first year of the Lord, which in Latin is Anno Domini, from which we get A.D.

Thus there is no Year Zero between 1 B.C. and A.D. 1.

(BTW, please note that the “A.D.” goes before the number. “A.D. 2013” = “The Year of the Lord 2013,” which is an intelligible phrase. If you write “2013 A.D.” that would be “2013 the Year of the Lord,” which is gibberish.)

So what year was Jesus born?

 

1 B.C.?

The guy who developed the way we reckon years was a 6th-century monk named Dionysius Exiguus (“Dennis the Short”).

He apparently thought Christ was born in 1 B.C. (actually, it’s a bit more complex than that, but we’ll keep this simple).

Today most think this date is a little too late and that the evidence supports a date a few years earlier.

 

6-7 B.C.?

For a little more than a century, the idea has been popular that Jesus was born in 6-7 B.C.

The reasoning goes like this: Jesus was born late in the reign of Herod the Great, who died in 4 B.C.

Furthermore, the wise men saw the star rise in the east two years before they came to visit Jerusalem, where they met Herod.

Back up two years from 4 B.C. and you get 6 B.C.

Back up another year in case Herod didn’t die immediately after they visited, and you get 7 B.C.

So: 6 or 7 B.C.

The problem, as we saw in a previous post, is that the arguments that Herod died in 4 B.C. are exceptionally weak.

 

3-4 B.C.?

Let’s take the same logic as above and plug in the more likely date of Herod’s death.

As we saw in a previous post, the evidence points to him dying in 1 B.C.

So . . . back up two years from that and you get 3 B.C.

Back up another year for cushion and you get 4 B.C.

Thus: 3-4 B.C.

That’s not an unreasonable estimate, but there are two problems with it:

  1. It’s got a couple of problematic assumptions.
  2. Other evidence, including other evidence from the Bible, suggests it’s a little too early.

The problematic assumptions are that the star was first visible in the east at the moment of Jesus’ birth and that it was visible for a full two years prior to the magi’s arrival.

The first of these assumptions is problematic (among other reasons) because its appearance could be connected with another point in Jesus’ life, such as his conception. If that were the case, you’d need to shave nine months off to find the point of his birth.

It’s also problematic because Matthew doesn’t say that the star appeared two years earlier. What he says is that Herod killed all the baby boys in Bethlehem that were two years old and under, in accord with the time he learned from the magi.

That means that there is some approximating going on here.

Herod would certainly want to make sure the child was dead, and he would err on the side of . . . well, the side of caution from his perspective.

That is, he would to some degree over-estimate how old the child might be in order to be sure of wiping him out.

Thus all the boys two and under were killed.

That means Jesus was at most two years old, but he was likely younger than that.

What may well have happened is Herod may have been told that the star appeared a year ago and he decided to kill all the boys a year on either side of this to make sure of getting the right one.

And then there’s the fact that the ancients often counted parts of a year as a full year in their reckoning, so “two years” might mean “one year plus part of a second year.”

All this suggests that two years was the maximum amount of time earlier that Jesus was born, and likely it was less than that.

Thus . . .

 

2-3 B.C.?

This date would be indicated if we start with Herod’s death in 1 B.C. and then, taking into account the factors named above, backed up only one year, suggesting 2 B.C.

Then, if we back up another year to allow for the fact Herod didn’t die immediately, that would suggest 3 B.C.

So, sometime between 2-3 B.C. would be reasonable, based on what we read in Matthew.

Do we have other evidence suggesting this date?

We do.

Both inside and outside the Bible.

 

The Gospel of Luke

Although Luke offers some helpful clues about the timing of Jesus’ birth, we don’t know enough to make full use of them.

The date of the enrollment ordered by Augustus is notoriously controversial, for example, and too complex to go into here.

However, later indications he gives in his gospel are quite interesting.

He records, for example, that John the Baptist began his ministry in “the fifteenth year of Tiberius Caesar” (3:1).

Tiberius became emperor after Augustus died in August of A.D. 14. Roman historians (e.g., Tacitus, Suetonius), however, tended to skip part years and begin counting an emperor’s reign with the first January 1 after they took office.

On that reckoning, the fifteenth year of Tiberius Caesar would correspond to what we call A.D. 29. (Remember, the 15th year is the time between the completion of the 14th year and the completion of the 15th year, the same way a child’s first year is the time between his birth and his first birthday.)

Jesus’ ministry starts somewhat after John’s, but it doesn’t appear to be very long. Perhaps only a few weeks or months.

If so, Jesus’ ministry also likely started in A.D. 29.

That’s important, because Luke gives us a second clue: He says Jesus was “about thirty years of age” when he began his ministry (3:23).

So, if you take A.D. 29 and back up thirty years, when does that land you?

You might think in 1 B.C., but remember that there’s no Year Zero, so it would actually be 2 B.C.

Or the end of 3 B.C. if Luke was counting Tiberius’s reign from when he became emperor rather than from the next January 1.

Thus: 2-3 B.C. is a reasonable estimate.

That’s still only an estimate, though, because Jesus could have been a little less or a little more than thirty.

(For purposes of comparison, note that when Luke describes the age of Jairus’s daughter, he says she was “about twelve”; 8:42. So Luke doesn’t seem to go in for rounding things to the nearest 5 years; he tries to be more precise than that. When Luke says Jesus was “about thirty,” he’s probably not envisioning anything between 25 and 35 but a range narrower than that.)

To confirm our estimate, it would be nice if we had an exact naming of the year Jesus was born, and in fact we do . . .

 

The Fathers Know Best

There is a startling consensus among early Christian sources about the year of Jesus’ birth.

Here is a table adapted from Jack Finegan’s excellent Handbook of Biblical Chronology (p. 291) giving the dates proposed by different sources:

The Alogoi 4 B.C. or A.D. 9
Cassiodorus Senator 3 B.C.
St. Irenaeus of Lyon  3 B.C. or 2 B.C.
St. Clement of Alexandria  3 B.C. or 2 B.C.
Tertullian of Carthage  3 B.C. or 2 B.C.
Julius Africanus  3 B.C. or 2 B.C.
St. Hippolytus of Rome  3 B.C. or 2 B.C.
“Hippolytus of Thebes”  3 B.C. or 2 B.C.
Origen of Alexandria  3 B.C. or 2 B.C.
Eusebius of Caesarea  3 B.C. or 2 B.C.
Epiphanius of Salamis  3 B.C. or 2 B.C.
Orosius 2 B.C.
Dionysius Exiguus 1 B.C.
The Chronographer of the Year 354 A.D. 1

As you can see, except for a few outliers (including our influential friend, Dionysius Exiguus), there is strong support for Jesus being born in either 3 or 2 B.C.

And note that some of the sources in this table are quite ancient. Irenaeus of Lyon, Clement of Alexandria, Tertullian, Julius Africanus, and Hippolytus of Rome all wrote in the late 100s or early 200s.

We thus have strong indication–from a careful reading of Matthew, from Luke, and from the Church Fathers–that Jesus was born in 3 or 2 B.C.

Jesus’ birth and when Herod the Great *really* died

The birth of Jesus Christ is tied to the death of Herod the Great. Here’s when that *actually* happened.

The Gospel of Matthew tells us that Jesus Christ was born in the final years of the tyrant known as Herod the Great.

He tells us that when Jesus was born, Herod panicked and had all the baby boys in Bethlehem killed.

Fortunately, the Holy Family escaped to Egypt and remained there until Herod was dead.

They didn’t have to stay long, though.

Here’s when Herod the Great actually died . . .

 

Setting Aside a Common Mistake

For just over a hundred years, the question of when Herod the Great died has been dominated by a proposal by the German scholar Emil Schurer.

He suggested that Herod died in 4 B.C., and this view took off in scholarly circles.

But in recent decades, it’s been challenged and, as we saw in a previous post, the arguments for this position are exceptionally weak.

So when did Herod actually die?

 

The Length of Herod’s Reign

Here is how the Jewish historian Josephus describes the timing of Herod’s death:

So Herod, having survived the slaughter of his son [Antipater] five days, died, having reigned thirty-four years, since he had caused Antigonus to be slain, and obtained his kingdom; but thirty-seven years since he had been made king by the Romans [War of the Jews, 1:33:8 (665); cf. Antiquities of the Jews 17:8:1 (191)].

In this place, Josephus dates Herod’s death by three events:

  1. Five days after the execution of his son Antipater.
  2. Thirty-four years after he “obtained his kingdom” (i.e., conquered Jerusalem and had its Hasmonean king, Antigonus, killed).
  3. Thirty-seven years after “he had been made king by the Romans.”

The death of Antipater isn’t a particularly helpful clue, but the two ways of reckoning the length of his reign are.

First, though, we need to answer one question . . .

 

How Is Josephus Counting Years?

Kings don’t tend to come into office on New Year’s Day, and so they often serve a partial year before the next calendar year begins (regardless of which calendar is used).

They also don’t die on the last day of the year, typically, so they also serve a partial year at the end of their reigns.

This creates complications for historians, because ancient authors sometimes count these additional part-years (especially the one at the beginning of the reign) as a full year.

Or they ignore the calendar year and treat the time that a king came into office as a kind of birthday and reckon his reign in years from that point.

What scheme was Josephus using?

Advocates of the idea that Herod died in 4 B.C. argue that he was named king in 40 B.C. To square that with a 37-year reign ending in 4. B.C., they must count the part year at the beginning of his reign and the part year at the end of it as years. That’s the only way the math will work out.

The problem is that this is not how Josephus would have reckoned the years.

Biblical chronology scholar Andrew E. Steinmann comments:

[T]here is no evidence for this [inclusive way of reckoning the partial years]–and every other reign in this period, including those of the Jewish high priests, are reckoned non-inclusively by Josephus [From Abraham to Paul, 223].

In other words, Josephus does not count the partial first year when dating reigns in this period.

Knowing that, what would we make of Josephus’s two ways of dating Herod’s reign?

 

Herod Appointed King

As we saw in the previous post, Josephus gave an impossible date (one that did not exist) for Herod’s appointment as king.

He said it was in the 184th Olympiad, which ended in midyear 40 B.C. and that it was in the consulship of Calvinus and Pollio, which began in late 40 and extended into 39.

Those can’t both be right, but one of them could be.

Which?

The evidence points to 39 B.C., because we have another source on this: The Roman historians Appian and Dio Cassius.

Appian wrote a history of the Roman civil wars in which he discusses the appointment of Herod in the midst of other events.

By comparing this set of events to how they are dated in Dio Cassius’s Roman History, it can be shown that the events in question–including the appointment of Herod–took place in 39 B.C.

Given how Josephus dates reigns in this period, he would not have counted Herod’s partial first year in 39 B.C. but would have started his count with 38 B.C.

Count 37 years forward from that and you have 1 B.C.

 

Herod Conquers Jerusalem

As we saw in the previous post, Josephus gives contradictory dating information for Herod’s conquest of Jerusalem.

Some of the dating information he provides points to 37 B.C. and some points to 36 B.C.

Josephus said Herod died 34 years after the event.

Bearing in mind that Josephus wasn’t counting partial first years, that would put Herod’s death either in 2 B.C. (if he conquered Jerusalem in 37) or in 1 B.C. (if he conquered the city in 36).

There are various ways to try to resolve which, but some are rather complex.

At least one, however, is quite straightforward . . .

 

Herod’s Lunar Eclipse

We saw in the previous post that Josephus said Herod died between a lunar eclipse and Passover.

While there was a partial lunar eclipsed before Passover in 4 B.C. there was a total lunar eclipse before Passover in 1 B.C.

Further, the lunar eclipse in 1 B.C. better fits the situation Josephus describes (see the previous post for details).

Since 4 B.C. is outside the range indicated above, and since the 1 B.C. lunar eclipse fits the situation better, that lets us decide between 2 B.C. and 1 B.C. in favor of the latter.

There was no lunar eclipse in 2 B.C., pointing us toward 1 B.C.

 

Final Answer?

Putting together the pieces above, we have:

  • Reason to think Herod died in 1 B.C. based on the amount of time he served after being appointed king by the Romans.
  • Reason to think Herod died in either 2 or 1 B.C. based on the amount of time he served after conquering Jerusalem.
  • Reason to think Herod died in 1 B.C. because of the lunar eclipse that occurred before Passover.

More specifically, he would have died between January 10, 1 B.C. (the date of the lunar eclipse) and April 11, 1 B.C. (the date of Passover).

Most likely, it was closer to the latter date, since Josephus records a bunch of things Herod did after the eclipse and before his death, some of which required significant travel time.

There is also one more reason that we should reject the death of Herod in 4 B.C. in favor of a 1 B.C. date . . .

 

We Know When Jesus Was Born

We don’t have to restrict our knowledge of when Herod died to the sources and events mentioned above.

We can also date his death relative to the birth of Christ.

For some reason, moderns seem to think that the dating of Herod’s death should govern when Jesus was born, but the logic works both ways: If we know when Jesus was born, that tells us something about when Herod died.

And we, in fact, have quite good information about the year in which Jesus was born.

It was after 4 B.C., ruling out that date.

So . . . what year was Jesus born?

Stay tuned . . .