Category: Bible History

Mary Magdalene and Mary the Sister of Lazarus

Recently, Pope Francis added a memorial for the Bethany family—Martha, Mary, and Lazarus—to the General Roman Calendar.

The General Roman Calendar is the international liturgical calendar used in the Latin Church, and it is the basis of the particular calendars used in different countries.

A memorial is a liturgical commemoration ranking below a solemnity and a feast but above an optional memorial.

Given the prominence of the Bethany family in the Gospels—they are mentioned as friends of Jesus in both Luke and John—it may come as a bit of a surprise that they didn’t already have a place on the calendar.

And there’s a reason for that.

 

Which Mary?

The decree announcing the new memorial indicates that the reason the Bethany family didn’t have a common spot on the calendar up to now was due to uncertainty about how three biblical women should be identified:

The traditional uncertainty of the Latin Church about the identity of Mary—the Magdalene to whom Christ appeared after his resurrection, the sister of Martha, the sinner whose sins the Lord had forgiven—which resulted in the inclusion of Martha alone on 29 July in the Roman Calendar, has been resolved in recent studies and times, as attested by the current Roman Martyrology, which also commemorates Mary and Lazarus on that day.

The three women were thus:

  1. Mary Magdalene (John 20:1-18)
  2. Mary the sister of Martha (Luke 10:39, John 11:1-12:7)
  3. And the woman whose sins Jesus forgave (Luke 7:36-50)

In the Latin Catholic Church, there has historically been a question of whether these three figures are actually one person, with various authors holding that they were.

 

Why Would This Cause a Problem?

The reason this would cause a problem for giving the Bethany family a common slot on the calendar is that Mary Magdalene already had one.

Mary Magdalene is mentioned in all four Gospels as one of the witnesses of Jesus’ resurrection, and her liturgical day is July 22. What’s more, it’s a feast, which outranks a memorial.

So, it would be odd to have a second liturgical day dedicated to the Mary, Martha, and Lazarus, since Mary would be appearing on the calendar twice.

As a result, Martha alone had a day on the liturgical calendar—July 29—though in the current Roman Martyrology (the Latin Church’s official list of saints and martyrs) also lists Mary and Lazarus on that day.

 

Why the Question?

Why has there been a question about the identification of the three women?

Part of the reason is that the sinful woman that Luke mentions wiping Jesus’ feet with her hair is unnamed (Luke 7:36-50).

However, John says that Mary the sister of Martha and Lazarus wiped Jesus’ feet with her hair (John 11:2), and that could mean that they are the same person.

On the other hand, it may not, because in the very next chapter, John tells us the story of Mary wiping Jesus’ feet with her hair (John 12:3), and he does not present her as a sinner. Luke also mentions the woman weeping over Jesus’ feet, but John doesn’t mention Mary doing this.

Also, since Luke does mention Mary the sister of Martha and Lazarus in his Gospel (Luke 10:39), you’d think that he’d mention her by name if she was the sinful woman.

Further, Luke presents the hair wiping incident as occurring at a very different point in Jesus’ ministry. In Luke, it’s early on—before Jesus arrives in Jerusalem for Passion week, while in John, Mary wipes Jesus’ feet with her hair the day before the Triumphal Entry.

That could be because the Evangelists aren’t required to keep events in a strict chronological order, but it also could be that two different women performed similar actions to honor Jesus.

As a result, this matter is still ambiguous. There is evidence that points both ways.

 

One Mary or Two?

The identity of the sinful woman has not been the key obstacle to giving the Bethany family a spot on the calendar, though. Instead, it’s been the question of whether Mary Magdalene and Mary the sister of Martha and Lazarus are the same person.

There are, after all, multiple women named “Mary” in the New Testament.

In fact, more than one in five Jewish women in first century Palestine were named Mary (see Richard Bauckham’s outstanding book, Jesus and the Eyewitnesses, ch. 4).

With a name that common, people in the first century Jewish community needed ways to tell them apart, and since they didn’t have last names like we do, they needed to use something else.

 

How They Did It

One of the most common ways of telling one person from another was to use a patronym—that is, to refer to them in connection with their father.

This is why Peter’s birth name is Simon bar-Jona, or “Simon the son of John.” It would distinguish him from other Simons, since most of their fathers wouldn’t also be named John.

But, if you didn’t know someone’s father, you might refer to them by a different relative—say, a brother. Thus, Peter’s brother Andrew can be referred to as “Andrew the brother of Simon” (Mark 1:16).

Uniquely, in Jesus’ case, he is referred to as “the son of Mary” (Mark 6:3).

In the case of women, you might refer to them by the names of their husbands. Thus, Luke refers to “Joanna the wife of Chuza” (Luke 8:3) and John refers to “Mary the wife of Clopas” (John 19:25).

But what do you do if you aren’t acquainted with a person’s relatives?

In that case, they were probably from somewhere else—since you’d know everybody in your own village—and so you could use their place of origin as a substitute.

This is why Jesus is known as “Jesus of Nazareth,” because outside of Nazareth, people didn’t know his family and so used the town in which he grew up. (Inside of Nazareth, they wouldn’t have called him this and would have used his family instead.)

This gives us the information we need to figure out the puzzle.

 

Mary the Sister of Martha and Lazarus

Both Luke and John refer to Mary as the sister of Martha, and John adds that she was the sister of Lazarus also.

They thus follow the standard naming conventions of the time.

Modern scholars often refer to them as “the Bethany family,” because that’s where they lived.

Bethany was a small village just outside Jerusalem, on the southeastern slope of the Mount of Olives.

And this was their stable place of residence. In fact, John introduces Lazarus by referring to him as “Lazarus of Bethany” and follows up by saying Bethany was “the village of Mary and her sister Martha” (John 11:1).

So, they were all identified with Bethany in Judaea. If you were from somewhere else and knew only one of the siblings, you would have used “of Bethany” as their identifier.

In fact, modern scholars often refer to Mary as “Mary of Bethany” to avoid the lengthier “Mary the sister of Martha and Lazarus.”

 

Mary Magdalene

This means that, when Luke and John refer to “Mary Magdalene,” they are referring to a different person.

They already have a way of referring to the Mary who was related to Martha and Lazarus.

They’ve already introduced her to their audience using the sibling-identifier, and so they would be misleading their audience if they suddenly switched the identifier to something else and didn’t mention to their readers that they’re still talking about the same person.

In this case, the identifier—“Magdalene”—is a place name. “Mary Magdalene” means “Mary of Magdala.”

Magdala was a major fishing port on the Sea of Galilee, which is—of course, located up north in Galilee, way far away from Bethany down by Jerusalem.

That tells us several things:

  • Mary Magdalene was a Galilean, being associated with a city in Galilee.
  • She had no relatives who were well known to the Christian community (in particular, she had no husband, which fits with the fact she was free to follow the itinerant prophet Jesus).
  • She was a different person than Mary the sister of Martha and Lazarus, who was associated with a village in Judaea.

 

Putting It All Together

And so, the puzzle is resolved. Despite earlier identifications of Mary Magdalene with Mary of Bethany, they are really two different people.

This has become clear—as the Congregation for Divine Worship notes—“in recent studies” that have carefully examined the way first century Jewish names worked.

This growing awareness of the fact the two women are distinct resulted, first, in giving the Bethany family a common day in the Roman Martyrology, and now, in giving them a common day on the General Calendar.

When Were the Gospels Written?

Here is a brief post to draw together treatments I’ve written on the subject of when the four canonical Gospels were composed.

Determining the dates of Luke and Acts is a key first step in determining the dates of the others, so it is treated first.

I also treat these in my book The Bible Is a Catholic Book.

Posts in this series:

Related to the question of when the Gospels were composed is the order in which they were written–especially the order of Matthew, Mark, and Luke (i.e., the “Synoptic Gospels”). This is known as the Synoptic Problem.

I have written about the Synoptic Problem rather extensively here.

Some additional posts related to the dating of the Gospels and other New Testament books include:

Catholics and Textual Criticism

A correspondent writes:

I am wondering, how do Catholics regard textual criticism? What is the Catholic position on the canonicity of various New Testament passages like the Pericope Adulterae, the Comma Johanneum, and the Longer Ending of Mark, for example?

 

What Textual Criticism Is

For those who may be unfamiliar with the term, textual criticism involves the study of how texts change over time—how bits get added, deleted, or altered.

Some variation in texts was inevitable before the invention of the printing press, since all texts were hand-copied and scribes sometimes made mistakes. Accidental textual variations even occur now that we have the printing press, though not as much.

Also, some textual variations are intentional. This happens on both the smaller level—as when a scribe or a publisher intentionally fixes a typo—and on the larger level, when they produce a “revised and expanded edition” of a work.

 

Textual Criticism and the Bible

One of the goals of textual criticism when it’s applied to the Bible is determining what the original reading of a text was.

There are various ways of doing this, and they involve detective work based on comparing the different readings that are out there and using lines of evidence to figure out which was most likely the original.

There are a large number of textual variants in the thousands of manuscripts that were hand copied before the printing press, but the large majority of them are trivial, such as alternate spellings and word order.

Very few would have any impact on doctrine, and no key doctrine of the Faith is at stake.

Nevertheless, love for God’s word has led Christian and Jewish scholars to spend a great deal of time trying to determine the original wording of the Bible.

 

Earliest Editions and Authoritative/Canonical Editions

It should be pointed out that, even if you determine the earliest reading of a text, that does not tell you what the canonical or authorized version is.

A number of years ago, Mark Twain’s original manuscript for Huckleberry Finn was discovered, and scholars of American literature could see the earliest readings of this text in Twain’s own handwriting—with all the crossing out and marginal additions he made during the writing process.

But even though scholars now could see the earliest readings of different passages, that didn’t mean these belonged in the authorized, “canonical” edition of the novel—i.e., the version of Huckleberry Finn that Twain authorized for publication. Indeed, Twain had crossed them out!

Something similar happens when authors or publishers issue new editions of books. While what a first edition said is of historical interest, later editions supersede earlier ones. Thus, the first edition of a chemistry textbook written in 1940 should not be considered as valuable a teaching text as an updated edition published in 2020 (chemistry has advanced in the last 80 years!). Neither should one rely on a copy of the U.S. legal code published a hundred years ago, but on the current edition of the law.

A parallel phenomenon happens with Scripture, where expanded versions of books and revised versions of material also appear. As I write in The Bible Is a Catholic Book:

God sometimes inspired books that contained material he had already placed in other books. These could be condensed versions of the original. The most famous is Deuteronomy, which condenses and revises the laws given earlier in the Pentateuch. Thus its name, Deuteronomy, means “second law.” Chronicles and 2 Maccabees also condense and supplement material found in other books.

Sometimes God expanded on a previous work. This happened with Jeremiah. There was an original, shorter edition that was burned by King Jehoiakim, but God inspired a new edition that contained the original material as well as much new material (Jer. 36).

God did something similar in the deuterocanonical period. He inspired expanded editions of Daniel and Esther. The first includes three additional sections. One (“The Song of the Three Young Men”) is a hymn sung by Daniel’s companions. The other two (“Susannah” and “Bel and the Dragon”) display Daniel’s wisdom and show how God delivered him. In addition, the expanded edition of Esther includes sections that bring out more clearly the role of God. (The Hebrew edition, strikingly, doesn’t contain explicit references to God.)

So, bear in mind the distinction between the earliest version of a text and the canonical version.

 

Catholics and Textual Criticism

Like scholars in general, Catholic scholars are very interested in determining the earliest version of biblical texts, and so they also practice textual criticism. The Church is totally fine with this and positively encourages it. In 1943, Pope Pius XII wrote:

The great importance which should be attached to this kind of criticism was aptly pointed out by Augustine, when, among the precepts to be recommended to the student of the Sacred Books, he put in the first place the care to possess a corrected text. “The correction of the codices”—so says this most distinguished doctor of the Church—”should first of all engage the attention of those who wish to know the Divine Scripture so that the uncorrected may give place to the corrected.”

In the present day indeed this art, which is called textual criticism and which is used with great and praiseworthy results in the editions of profane writings, is also quite rightly employed in the case of the Sacred Books, because of that very reverence which is due to the divine oracles. For its very purpose is to insure that the sacred text be restored, as perfectly as possible, be purified from the corruptions due to the carelessness of the copyists and be freed, as far as may be done, from glosses and omissions, from the interchange and repetition of words and from all other kinds of mistakes, which are wont to make their way gradually into writings handed down through many centuries. . . .

Nor is it necessary here to call to mind—since it is doubtless familiar and evident to all students of Sacred Scripture—to what extent namely the Church has held in honor these studies in textual criticism from the earliest centuries down even to the present day (Divino Afflante Spiritu 17-18).

The Church thus approves of textual criticism. But what about the three passages that the correspondent asked about?

 

What Are the Three Passages?

The Comma Johanneum, the Pericope Adulterae, and the Longer Ending of Mark are three of the most famous textual variants in the New Testament.

The first—the Comma Johanneum or “Johannine comma” (a “comma” being a short piece of text, in this case) is a variant found in some manuscripts of 1 John 5:7-8. Here it is, with the text in question italicized:

For there are three that beare record in heaven, the Father, the Word, and the Holy Ghost: and these three are one. And there are three that beare witnesse in earth, the Spirit, and the Water, and the Blood, and these three agree in one (KJV, 1611).

Because this variant makes explicit mention of all three Persons of the Trinity, it became very popular as a text for defending the doctrine of the Trinity. However, as the science of textual criticism developed, it became clear that it may not have been in the original version of 1 John.

The Pericope Adulterae (pronounced per-IH-co-PAY ah-DUL-ter-AE; that is, “the passage concerning the adulteress”) is a variant printed in many Bibles as John 7:53-8:11, and—together with the Longer Ending of Mark—it is one of the two longest textual variants in the entire New Testament. As its name suggests, it’s the famous story about the woman caught in adultery and how Jesus refused to condemn her (“Let he who is without sin among you cast the first stone”).

The Longer Ending of Mark is a variant printed in many Bibles as Mark 16:9-20. It concerns things that happened after the Resurrection of Jesus, and it largely repeats and rephrases material found in the other Gospels and Acts.

 

The Johannine Comma

The Catholic Church does not have a teaching about whether these three variants were in the original editions of the books in question. It leaves that issue to scholars, and most scholars are of the opinion that none of the three were in the earliest versions.

However, this does not settle the question of their canonicity, because later editions may be the ones that God guided to become canonical (as in the case of Jeremiah, Daniel, and Esther).

In the case of the Comma Johanneum, the Magisterium has not taught it to be canonical, and—given the textual evidence against it being in the original—it is not included in most modern Catholic Bibles.

For example, it is not in the revised version of the Latin Vulgate—the translation that the Holy See itself uses. Similarly, it is not in the New American Bible: Revised Edition, which is published by the U.S. bishops.

Neither translation even includes a footnote mentioning the Johannine Comma.

 

The Pericope Adulterae and the Longer Ending of Mark

When it comes to the Pericope Adulterae and the Longer Ending of Mark, the matter is more complicated. Here is what the Council of Trent said:

But if any one receive not, as sacred and canonical, the said books entire with all their parts, as they have been used to be read in the Catholic Church, and as they are contained in the old Latin Vulgate edition . . . let him be anathema (Decree Concerning the Canonical Scriptures).

That’s an infallible definition. The question is what the definition means when it says the books found in the Vulgate need to be accepted as sacred and canonical “entire with all their parts.”

This does not mean that we can’t do textual criticism to determine the original readings. That matter was discussed by Pius XII in Divino Afflante Spiritu (see sections 21-22).

The statement is principally directed against Protestants who were challenging the canonicity of parts of Daniel and Esther (see above), which they rejected as apocryphal. In fact, the whole reason that Trent chose to define the canon was to deal with Protestant challenges to various books of the Old Testament.

That was Trent’s clear intent, but in the discussions that led up to the council fathers voting on this decree, there also was discussion of certain New Testament passages, including the Longer Ending of Mark and the Pericope Adulterae (see Hubert Jedin, A History of the Council of Trent, Volume II, ch. 2).

The subject of whether these passages are also included in Trent’s definition thus will depend on how clearly the council fathers intended to define this matter.

The general rule concerning infallible definitions is:

No doctrine is understood as defined infallibly unless this is manifestly evident (can. 749 §3).

One could argue that what is manifestly evident is that Trent wanted to define the canonicity of the books of the Bible including those passages in the Old Testament that were being disputed by Protestants but that it is not “manifestly evident” that they meant to define the canonicity of particular New Testament passages, in which case the matter would not be infallibly settled.

Because the Longer Ending of Mark and the Pericope Adulterae were mentioned in the background discussions leading up to the approval of the decree, most have concluded that they are defined.

Thus, the editors of the New American Bible have a note on the Longer Ending of Mark that states that it “has traditionally been accepted as a canonical part of the Gospel and was defined as such by the Council of Trent.”

Similarly, they also include a note on the Pericope Adulterae that says, “The Catholic Church accepts this passage as canonical scripture.”

On the other hand, Pope Benedict XVI wrote:

The ending of Mark poses a particular problem. According to authoritative manuscripts, the Gospel comes to a close with 16:8—“and they went out and fled from the tomb; for trembling and astonishment had come upon them; and they said nothing to any one, for they were afraid.” The authentic text of the Gospel as it has come down to us ends with the fear and trembling of the women. . . . In the second century, a concluding summary was added, bringing together the most important Resurrection traditions and the mission of the disciples to proclaim the gospel to the whole world (Mk 16:9–20) (Jesus of Nazareth vol. 2, 261-262).

Benedict thus seems to treat the Longer Ending of Mark as noncanonical, since he indicates it is not part of “the authentic text of the Gospel as it has come down to us.” (Also, in Church-related documents “authentic” means “authoritative,” and if a text is not authoritative, it is not canonical.)

Further, if he is correct that the Longer Ending was written in the second century, that would seem to place it after the apostolic age and make its canonicity further problematic.

One does not have to agree with Benedict, here, for as he famously wrote:

It goes without saying that this book is in no way an exercise of the magisterium, but is solely an expression of my personal search “for the face of the Lord” (cf. Ps. 27:8). Everyone is free, then, to contradict me. I would only ask my readers for that initial goodwill without which there can be no understanding (Jesus of Nazareth, vol. 1, Foreword).

In light of what is manifestly evident regarding Trent’s intention, and Pope Benedict’s statement regarding the ending of Mark, there is presently a question in my mind about whether Trent intended to define the canonicity of the New Testament passages that came up in its preliminary discussions.

To settle the question, I would need access to the texts of these discussions so that I could see exactly what was said and what preliminary votes were taken. Unfortunately, I have thus far not been able to obtain access to this information.

Mysteries of the Magi

“When Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea in the days of Herod the king, behold, wise men from the East came to Jerusalem” (Matt. 2:1).

“Wise men” is a common translation in English Bibles, but it doesn’t give us a good idea who they were.

The Greek word used here is magoi—the plural of magos. These terms may be more familiar from their Latin equivalents: In St. Jerome’s Vulgate, we read that magi came from the east, and an individual member of the group would thus be a magus.

 

Who Were the Magi?

Originally, the term magi referred to a group of people in Persia (modern Iran). Around 440 B.C., the Greek historian Herodotus listed the Magi as one of the six tribes of the Medes (Histories 1:101:1).

Apparently, they were like the Jewish tribe of Levi, for they exercised priestly functions. Herodotus says that, whenever a Persian wanted to sacrifice an animal to the gods, he would cut it up and then “a magus comes near and chants over it the song of the birth of the gods, as the Persian tradition relates it; for no sacrifice can be offered without a magus” (Histories 1:132:3).

In the book of Daniel, magi are also called upon to interpret dreams (1:20; 2:2, 10, 27).

Magi were also called upon to interpret heavenly omens. Consider the case of the Persian king Xerxes I (also known as Ahasuerus, who married the biblical Esther). In 480 B.C., he asked the magi to tell him the meaning of a solar eclipse that occurred as he was about to do battle with Greeks.

They said that the sun was special to Greeks, so when it abandoned its place in the daytime, the god was showing the Greeks that they would have to abandon their cities. This greatly encouraged Xerxes (Histories 7:37:4).

However, things didn’t work out well. His expedition against Greece ended up failing, but this does show the original magi were interpreters of portents in the sky—as later magi would be for the star of Bethlehem.

With time, the term magi ceased to refer exclusively to members of the Persian priestly caste. The skills they practiced became known as mageia, from which we get “magic” in English, and by the first century, anybody who practiced magic could be called a magos.

Thus in Acts 8, we meet a man named Simon, who was a Samaritan—meaning he had mixed Jewish ancestry. Simon practiced mageia (8:9, 11), and so he became known as Simon Magus.

Full Jews also could be magi, and in Acts 13 we meet a Jewish man named Bar-Jesus, who is described both as a magus and a false prophet (13:6).

This means that, in Jesus’ day, the term magus was flexible, so we need to ask another question.

 

Who Were These Magi?

Matthew’s magi were clearly dignitaries of some kind, as shown by the facts that they (1) saw themselves as worthy to congratulate a distant royal house on a new birth, (2) had the resources and leisure to undertake such a lengthy journey, (3) could offer costly gifts, and (4) received a royal audience with King Herod the Great.

Matthew says that they came “from the East,” which from the perspective of Jerusalem would point to locations like Arabia, Babylonia, and Persia.

There were Jews in all of these regions. Consequently, some interpreters have proposed that the magi who visited Jesus were Jews, who would naturally be interested in the newborn king of the Jews.

However, most scholars have concluded this is unlikely. If they were visiting Jewish dignitaries, Matthew would have identified them as co-religionists. The fact he merely describes them as being “from the East,” suggests that they were Gentiles who came from a distant, eastern land.

Matthew also says that they went back “to their own country” (2:12), suggesting they were among its native inhabitants rather than Jews living in exile.

In fact, there is a pattern in Matthew’s Gospel of Gentiles who respond to the true God. Matthew uses it to show his Jewish readers that Gentiles can be Christians. The pattern culminates in the Great Commission, when Jesus tells the apostles to “make disciples of all nations” (alternate translation: “make disciples of all the Gentiles”; 28:19).

The magi are part of this pattern: They are Gentile dignitaries who represent an early response to God’s Messiah, in contrast to the Jewish king, Herod, who seeks to kill him. This prefigures how the Jewish authorities will later kill Jesus, but Gentiles will embrace his gospel.

Scholars have thus concluded that Matthew’s magi were Gentile astrologers from an eastern land, though we can’t be sure which one (see Brown, The Birth of the Messiah, 168-170).

The earliest discussion we have is found in St. Justin Martyr, who around A.D. 160 said that they came from Arabia (Dialogue with Trypho 78:1), and around A.D. 210 Tertullian deduced that this is where they came from based on the gifts they offered (Against Marcion 3:13). In the ancient world, gold and frankincense were associated with Arabia, though this isn’t conclusive since they were widely traded in the region.

Many scholars have seen Babylon as a possibility, and the Jewish readers of Matthew would have been familiar with the book of Daniel, which associates magi with Babylonia. It’s also been argued that the major Jewish colony there could have given the magi a special interest in the Jewish Messiah, though this was also a common expectation of Jews in other lands.

Most Church Fathers concluded that the magi were from Persia. Just after A.D. 200, Clement of Alexandria identified them as coming from there (Stromata 1:15), and they were commonly depicted in early Christian art wearing Persian clothing. They thus may have been members of the original class of magi.

 

How Did They Know?

In popular accounts, the magi are depicted as following the star, which led them to Bethlehem. That has led many to see the star as a supernatural manifestation that moved around in the sky in a way stars don’t.

However, this isn’t what Matthew says. He never claims they were following the star, only that it was ahead of them as they went to Bethlehem and that it stood over the house (2:9). This was a providential coincidence.

They weren’t being led by the star for, as Benedict XVI points out, they initially went to Herod’s palace in Jerusalem—the natural place to find a newborn prince (Jesus of Nazareth: The Infancy Narratives, ch. 4). They assumed that Herod the Great or one of his sons had just had a baby boy who would grow up to be king.

When they learned there was no new prince at the palace, a consultation had to be held with the chief priests and scribes to learn where the magi really needed to go: Bethlehem (2:4).

The fact that the chief priests and scribes looked to a well-known prophecy of the birth of the Messiah (Micah 5:2; cf. Matt. 2:6) suggests the magi could have seen the appearance of the star as signaling not just the birth of an ordinary king but of a particularly great one—the predicted Messiah.

While magi weren’t following the star, it did tell them when he was born, for they said, “We have seen his star in the East” (2:2).

Recently, scholars have argued that this is a mistranslation and that the Greek phrase rendered “in the East” (en tê anatolê) should instead be “at its rising”—that is, when it rose over the eastern horizon as the Earth turns. Some have argued that this is a technical term for what is known as a star’s “heliacal” rising, which occurs when it briefly rises above the horizon just before sunrise.

The real question is what told them the star was significant and why they linked it to a king of the Jews. Here we can only speculate.

The system of constellations in use at the time, which includes our own zodiac, was developed in northern Mesopotamia around 1130 B.C, and it was used by Babylonian and Persian astrologers.

It’s not surprising that they would associate a particular star with the birth of a king, because at this time astrology was used to forecast national affairs. Horoscopes weren’t normally done for ordinary people.

Heavenly signs were interpreted as having to do with things of national importance, like relations between nations, wars and rebellions, whether the crops would be good or bad, epidemics, and kings.

It’s thus not a surprise that the magi would be looking for signs dealing with the births of kings.

What the star they saw might have been is difficult to determine, but one possibility is Jupiter. At this time Jupiter and the other planets were considered “wandering” stars since they moved against the background of “fixed” stars.

Unlike some later Greeks, Mesopotamian astrologers didn’t see the stars as controlling events on Earth. Instead, they thought the gods made their wills known through celestial phenomena—so it was a form of divine revelation.

Jupiter was associated with Marduk, the king of the Babylonian pantheon, and it was often involved in signs associated with kings.

For example, one Babylonian text says that if Jupiter remains in the sky in the morning, enemy kings will be reconciled with each other.

An Assyrian text indicates that if a lunar eclipse takes place and Jupiter is not in the sky then the king will die. To protect the king, the Assyrians came up with an ingenious solution: They took a condemned criminal and made him a temporary, substitute “king” who could then be executed to save the life of the real king!

Whether Jupiter was the star the magi saw will depend on when Jesus was born, and that’s something scholars debate.

 

When Was Jesus Born?

According to the most common account you hear today, Herod the Great died in 4 B.C., so Jesus would have to have been born before this.

In Matthew 2:7, Herod secretly learns from the magi when the star appeared, and in 2:16, he kills “all the male children in Bethlehem and in all that region who were two years old or under, according to the time which he had ascertained from the wise men.”

This indicates the star was understood as appearing at Jesus’ birth, which is to be expected since such portents were associated with births (as opposed to conceptions).

It also indicates Jesus was born up to two years before the magi arrived, though it may not have been a full two years, since Herod may have added a “safety” margin to his execution order.

Many scholars have thus proposed that Jesus was born around 7-6 B.C., and this is the date you commonly hear.

However, other scholars have argued that this calculation is wrong. A better case can be made that Herod died in 1 B.C. (see Jack Finegan, Handbook of Biblical Chronology, 2nd ed., and Andrew Steinmann, From Abraham to Paul).

This likely would put Jesus’ birth in 3/2 B.C., which is the year identified by the Church Fathers as the correct one.

It also fits with Luke’s statement that Jesus was “about thirty years old” when he began his ministry (3:23), shortly after John the Baptist began his in “the fifteenth year of the reign Tiberius Caesar” (3:1)—i.e., A.D. 29. Subtracting 30 from A.D. 29, we land in the year 2 B.C. (bearing in mind that there is no “Year 0” between 1 B.C. and A.D. 1).

 

What Was in the Sky?

Regardless of which view of Jesus’ birth is correct, it occurred in the first decade B.C. So what notable astronomical events took place then that could have served as the star of Bethlehem?

A large number have been proposed. The following list contains only some:

7 B.C.

  • 1: Jupiter and Saturn in conjunction

6 B.C.

  • April 17: Jupiter has its heliacal rising in Ares (a constellation associated with Judaea), with several other significant features in the sky
  • May 27: Jupiter and Saturn in conjunction
  • 6: Jupiter and Saturn in conjunction

5 B.C.

  • March: A comet in Capricorn

4 B.C.

  • April: A comet or nova (which one is unclear) in Aquilea

3 B.C.

  • August 12: Jupiter and Venus rise in the east, in conjunction with each other, in Leo, near Regulus
  • 11: The sun in mid-Virgo, with the moon at the feet of Virgo
  • 14: Jupiter in conjunction with Regulus

2 B.C.

  • 17: Jupiter in conjunction with Regulus
  • May 8: Jupiter in conjunction with Regulus
  • June 17: Jupiter in conjunction with Venus

One of the most interesting of these events is the rising of Jupiter and Venus on August 12, 3 B.C. Since Babylonian times, Jupiter was seen as a heavenly king, and Venus was seen as a heavenly queen, suggesting a birth. Further, the Babylonians named Regulus (the brightest star in Leo) “the king,” and the lion was a traditional symbol of the tribe of Judah (cf. Gen. 49:9).

Also very interesting is what happened on September 11th, 3 B.C. In Revelation, John says, “A great portent appeared in heaven, a woman clothed with the sun, with the moon under her feet, and on her head a crown of twelve stars” (12:1). This woman then gives birth to Jesus (12:5). Some have proposed that this encodes information about when he was born: When the sun was in the middle of Virgo (“the virgin”) and thus “clothing” it, with the moon at her feet.

Unfortunately, we can’t say which—if any—of these events corresponds to the star of Bethlehem without knowing precisely when Jesus was born. That’s something the Bible never tells us, and the Church Fathers had different opinions, with only some proposing December 25th.

 

What Was the Role of Jewish Thought?

Thus far we’ve looked at how the magi would have interpreted celestial events largely in terms of establish, Mesopotamian astrology.

This association with paganism gives rise to questions, such as, “Would God really use pagan astrology to signal the birth of his Son?”

That’s a matter for God to decide. Scripture indicates God cares for all people and makes himself known to them in various ways (cf. Rom. 1:19-20). It wouldn’t be so much God using pagan astrology to mark the birth of his Son as choosing to preserve certain true ideas among Gentiles to point to this event.

Also, if the magi were Persians, they wouldn’t have been polytheists. By this period, the Persians did not believe in the old gods, and their dominant religion was Zoroastrianism.

This faith teaches the existence of a single, great, all-good Creator God who they refer to as “the Wise Lord” and who will vanquish evil in the end. They believe in the renovation of the world, the final judgment, and the resurrection of the dead.

If the magi were Persians, they could have seen themselves as spiritual kin to the Jews and as worshipping the same God—the only true God—using their own term for him.

Finally, they may well have had contact with Jews living in their own land, and thus come into contact with biblical revelation that could have influenced their perception of the star.

They could have learned, for example, of the lion as a symbol of Judah, and they could have associated the coming Jewish Messiah with a star.

One of the most famous messianic prophecies is “a star shall come forth out of Jacob, and a scepter shall rise out of Israel” (Num. 24:17).

This prophecy was already associated with the Messiah, which is why in the A.D. 130s the messianic pretender Simon bar Kosiba was hailed as “Simon bar Kokhba” (Aramaic, “Simon, son of the Star”).

 

What About Astrology?

What about the role of astrology itself in this account? While astrology was popular among Gentiles, it wasn’t as popular among Jews, who often looked down on it.

This is itself a sign that Matthew’s tradition about the magi is historically accurate. It’s not the kind of thing that Jewish Christians would tend to make up.

However, while astrology wasn’t as popular among Jews as among Gentiles, it did exist.

Genesis says that God made the sun, moon, and stars “to separate the day from the night; and let them be for signs and for seasons and for days and years” (1:14). This could mean that they are simply to be time keeping markers.

But some Jews thought that their function as “signs” went beyond this and included information about future events. Thus, the Dead Sea Scrolls contain astrological texts.

In the ancient world, there was no rigid distinction between astronomy and astrology. It’s only in the last few centuries that the two have been disentangled. This happened as scientists learned more about the effects the sun, moon, and stars do and don’t have on life here on Earth.

Even Thomas Aquinas, based on the science of his day, thought that the heavenly bodies had an influence on the passions and could, for example, make a man prone to anger—but not in such a way that it would overwhelm his free will (Commentary on Matthew 2:1-2, ST I:115:4, II-II:95:5).

Subsequent scientific research showed they don’t have this kind of effect, and consulting the stars for these purposes is superstition. Thus the Catechism today warns against consulting horoscopes (CCC 2116).

While the stars don’t have the kind of influence many once thought, that doesn’t mean God can’t use them to signal major events in his plan of the ages. The fact he signaled the birth of his Son with a star shows he can. This isn’t what people think of as astrology, but it’s part of divine providence.

In fact, this doesn’t appear to be the only time God did something like that. On the day of Pentecost, Peter cited the prophet Joel’s prediction that the moon would be turned to blood as fulfilled in their own day (Joel 2:31-32; Acts 2:20-21).

It so happens, on the night of the Crucifixion (April 3, A.D. 33), there was a lunar eclipse visible from Jerusalem. The moon did turn to blood.

Pronouncing Biblical Names (Wherein I Rant)

Pronouncing biblical names is often tricky. They’re names from other languages, after all.

Some have become standard, English names. But for every David or John there’s also an Artaxerxes and a Mahershalalhashbaz.

When you’re reading the Bible aloud and you come across a name, you may:

  1. Use the standard English pronunciation
  2. Use the standard pronunciation in the original language (Hebrew, Greek, etc.)
  3. Fake it

Many readers that I hear seem to prefer option 3.

However, that’s not what I want to rant about today. Instead, I want to rant about a pet peeve of mine.

Yes, I know it’s trivial, but it drives me nuts.

 

Elijah and Elisha

Consider the names of these two Old Testament prophets: Elijah and Elisha.

They’re different, no? One of them has a /j/ in it and the other has an /sh/ in it.

And that’s the only difference.

So it should be the only difference in how you pronounce them, right?

 

The Traditional English Pronunciation

Sure enough, in the traditional English pronunciation, it is: Elijah is pronounced ee-LIE-jah and Elisha is pronounced ee-LIE-shah.

If somebody names their kid Elisha, you call him ee-LIE-shah.

At least, that’s how you do it if you’re using the standard English pronunciation.

 

The Traditional Hebrew Pronunciation

Normally when reading aloud, you wouldn’t want to use anything but the standard English pronunciation.

It would confuse your audience, and you could come across as just showing off.

Like if you pronounced the name David as dah-WEED in church for no reason.

However, there are situations—like in a language class—where you’d want to know the pronunciation in the original language.

So how would you pronounce Elijah and Elisha in biblical Hebrew?

There are a few things you need to know:

  1. Hebrew doesn’t have the /j/ sound; it uses the /y/ sound instead.
  2. Every syllable in Hebrew must begin with a consonant, even if it’s just a glottal stop—i.e., a constriction of the throat (we actually have this consonant in English, but it’s not part of our alphabet; if you pay attention, you can hear yourself saying it on the front of the word apple).
  3. After a glottal stop, Hebrew tends to have a short vowel that’s basically equivalent to the English /uh/ sound (like in the word upper).
  4. Both Elijah and Elisha start with a glottal stop followed by a short vowel.
  5. Both Elijah and Elisha have a long /ee/ sound (as in seem) in the middle.
  6. Hebrew tends to stress the last syllable of the word (in contrast, English often stresses the next-to-last syllable, as in gateway or edition).

With that in mind, you can work out how you should (roughly) pronounce Elijah and Elisha:

  • Elijah becomes uh-lee-YAH
  • Elisha becomes uh-lee-SHAH

 

The Newfangled Nonsense Pronunciation

In recent years—in some circles—the people who write biblical name pronunciation guides have been promoting a ridiculous, alternative pronunciation of this name.

I suspect it’s the same people who were pushing for all manner of liturgical novelties in the 1970s and 1980s, including items of Orwellian Liturgical Newspeak (e.g., “We Are Church,” which is just bad English).

The alternative pronunciation they’ve been promoting is ee-LISH-ah.

No!

This is not the standard English pronunciation, and as far as Hebrew goes, Every. Syllable. Of. This. Is. Wrong.

  • The /ee/ on the front is wrong because Hebrew has a short vowel here: /uh/ as in upper, not /ee/ as in seem.
  • The /LISH/ is wrong (a) because it’s improperly given the stress, when that should be on the last syllable, (b) because it grabs the /sh/ that must be on the beginning of the last syllable, and (c) because it uses a short /i/ sound (as in hit) when it should be an /ee/ sound (as in seem).
  • The /ah/ on the end is wrong (a) because it doesn’t have a consonant on the front of it and (b) because it isn’t stressed, as it should be.

Weirdly, the people promoting the ee-LISH-ah pronunciation haven’t been doing the same thing with Elijah. They haven’t been urging people to pronounce it ee-LIJJ-ah.

This makes me suspect that they wanted to use the difference in pronunciation to help people keep Elijah and Elisha straight, given how similar their names are.

But they needn’t bother. Most people today don’t know the difference between Elijah and Elisha in the first place.

And they’re doing violence to the language.

So please, do not pronounce Elisha so that it kinda-sorta sounds like the word delicious.

The fancy way of saying that one word kinda-sorta sounds like another is to say that the two words are assonant.

So please, when it comes to Elisha, don’t be an assonant.

“Three Days and Three Nights”?

In Matthew 12:40, Jesus says:

Just as Jonah was in the belly of the whale three days and three nights, so will the Son of Man be in the heart of the earth three days and three nights.

This has widely—and correctly—been understood as a reference to the period he spent in the tomb, between the Crucifixion and the Resurrection.

However, it raises a question about the timing of these events. Many people ask, if Jesus was crucified on Good Friday, how could he rise on Easter Sunday? That’s not “three days and three nights” later—at least by our reckoning.

To solve this dilemma, some propose that Jesus was actually crucified earlier—on a Wednesday. That way he could lie in the tomb all of Thursday, all of Friday, and all of Saturday, only to be raised early on Sunday.

Every year at this time—and periodically throughout the year—I get email from people telling me that I, and the vast majority of scholars (Catholic and Protestant alike), don’t know what we’re talking about when placing the Crucifixion on a Friday.

Some are positively insulting about it, presenting Matthew 12:40 as conclusive proof that we—apparently—have never thought about before.

But we have.

So, let’s talk about it and the other evidence we have from the New Testament about the day of Jesus’ Crucifixion.

 

Not a Matter of Faith

Let’s start by noting that, although the Church commemorates Jesus’ death on Good Friday, the traditional chronology of Holy Week is not a dogma of the Faith, and scholars can explore other options.

For example, in his Jesus of Nazareth series, Pope Benedict XVI discussed the view of the French scholar Annie Jaubert, who proposed that the Last Supper actually took place on Holy Tuesday rather than Holy Thursday.

That view is commonly shared by advocates of a Wednesday Crucifixion (though Jaubert still places the latter event on Good Friday).

After exploring the arguments proposed by Jaubert, he observes that the theory is “fascinating at first sight,” but that it “is rejected by the majority of exegetes” (2:111).

He then offers his own conclusion, stating:

So while I would not reject this theory outright, it cannot simply be accepted at face value, in view of the various problems that remain unresolved (Jesus of Nazareth 2:112).

For the pope to publish a book in which he says that he doesn’t “reject this theory outright,” even though he ultimately isn’t persuaded by it, is a clear indicator that alternative chronologies are possible.

But it’s a question of what the evidence supports. So what evidence is there?

 

The Day of the Resurrection

All of the Gospels indicate that Jesus’ tomb was found empty on Sunday morning.

  • Matthew says this happened “after the sabbath, as the first day of the week was dawning” (Matt. 28:1).
  • Mark says it was “when the sabbath was over” (Mark 16:1).
  • Luke says it was “at daybreak on the first day of the week” (Luke 24:1).
  • And John says it was “on the first day of the week” (John 20:1)

This gives us a solidly fixed day of the week, which is unmistakably Sunday—the day after the Jewish sabbath and the first day of the week on everyone’s reckoning.

Since no human eye witnessed the Resurrection itself, one could propose that Jesus actually rose some time Saturday (or any point after the burial), but this was not the understanding of the early Christians.

They universally understood Sunday as the day of the Resurrection, which is why they began gathering every first day of the week (1 Cor. 16:2) and why this day came to be known as “the Lord’s day” (Rev. 1:10; cf. Ignatius of Antioch, Magnesians 9:1).

We thus begin with the premise that Jesus rose from the dead on Sunday, at least as it was reckoned at the time (remembering that Jews began the day at sundown, so for them Sunday began on what we would call Saturday night).

 

“The Sabbath”

You’ll note that Matthew and Mark both say that Jesus’ tomb was discovered empty after “the sabbath.”

In ordinary Jewish speech, “the sabbath” was overwhelmingly used to refer to the day of the week known to us as Saturday.

There are a few exceptions to this, where certain other holy days could be referred to as sabbaths:

  • The day of atonement (Lev. 16:31, 23:32)
  • The feast of trumpets (Lev. 23:24)
  • The first and eighth days of the feast of booths (Lev. 23:39)

However, these usages were rare, and the fact that Matthew says this sabbath preceded “the first day of the week,” which Luke and John confirm, indicates that it is the weekly sabbath we are talking about, which is what we’d expect from the unmodified use of “the sabbath.”

What else do we know about this particular sabbath?

Luke records that as soon as Jesus was buried, the women “returned and prepared spices and perfumed oils. Then they rested on the sabbath according to the commandment” (Luke 24:56).

If we back up a few verses, Luke records that the burial was done in haste, for “it was the day of preparation, and the sabbath was about to begin” (Luke 24:54).

Bear in mind that this is the same weekly sabbath that the Gospels report as the day before the Resurrection, so the chronology Luke gives is:

  • “the day of preparation”: Jesus buried
  • “the sabbath”: the women rest
  • “the first day of the week”: the women find Jesus’ tomb empty

 

“The Day of Preparation”

Modern people aren’t typically familiar with the phrase “the day of preparation,” but it was a way of referring to the day before the sabbath.

It was called that because devout Jews had to make preparations to rest on the sabbath. For example, they needed to prepare all the food that they would eat on Saturday. Thus, Moses declared:

“This is what the Lord has commanded: ‘Tomorrow is a day of solemn rest, a holy sabbath to the Lord; bake what you will bake and boil what you will boil, and all that is left over lay by to be kept till the morning’” (Exod. 16:23).

Friday thus became known as the day of preparation. The Jewish Encyclopedia notes:

“The idea of preparation is expressed by the Greek name paraskeuê, given by Josephus (Ant. 16:6:2) to that day (compare Mark 15:42; Luke 23:54; Matt. 27:62; John 19:42). In Yer. Pesaḥim 4:1 the day is called ‘Yoma da-’Arubta’ (Day of Preparation)” (s.v. Calendar).

What Luke is saying thus is that Jesus was crucified on Friday, the women rested on Saturday, and they found his tomb empty on Sunday.

The same is indicated by the other Gospels. Speaking of the same day that the women rested, Matthew records:

The next day [after Jesus was buried], the one following the day of preparation, the chief priests and the Pharisees gathered before Pilate and said, “Sir, we remember that this impostor while still alive said, ‘After three days I will be raised up.’ Give orders, then, that the grave be secured until the third day” (Matt. 27:62-64).

Matthew thus indicates that Jesus was buried on the day of preparation (Friday), and the next day—Saturday—the priests requested a guard be posted until the third day (Sunday).

Mark says that Jesus was buried, “the day of preparation, the day before the sabbath” (Mark 15:42). This is particularly significant because he then says the women found the tomb empty “when the sabbath was over” (Mark 16:1). Mark’s chronology thus has Jesus being buried on a Friday and raised on a Sunday, with the weekly sabbath intervening.

Finally, John says that Jesus was crucified “the day of preparation of the Passover” (John 19:14, LEB)—that is, the Friday in Passover week.

He then says that the Jewish leaders asked for the legs of the crucified to be broken “since it was the day of preparation, in order to prevent the bodies from remaining on the cross on the sabbath (for that sabbath was a high day)” (John 19:31)—and a sabbath falling in Passover did have extra solemnity.

Finally, John indicates that Jesus was buried hurriedly, in a nearby tomb: “So because of the Jewish day of preparation, as the tomb was close at hand, they laid Jesus there” (John 19:42).

He thus indicates that Jesus was crucified and buried on the day of preparation (Friday), which preceded the sabbath (Saturday), and he was discovered alive again “on the first day of the week” (John 20:1).”

All four Gospels thus point to the same Friday-Saturday-Sunday chronology, with each saying specifically that Jesus was crucified on the day of preparation (cf. Matt. 27:62, Mark 15:42, Luke 23:54, John 19:14, 31, 42).

 

“On the Third Day”
You’ll note that in Matthew the Jewish authorities asked that the tomb be secured until “the third day” (Matt. 27:64).

This is the standard way that Jesus referred to the time he would rise. There are at least eight cases in the Gospels indicating that he rose on “the third day” (Matt. 16:21, 17:23, 20:19, Luke 9:22, 18:33, 24:7, 24:31, 46).

Mark also records three instances of him saying he will rise “after three days” (Mark 8:31, 9:31, 10:34), and John has him saying it will happen “in three days” (John 2:20).

However, the standard way of referring to the timing of the event was “on the third day”—a usage also found outside the Gospels (Acts 10:40, 1 Cor. 15:4).

To understand which day was the third, one must understand a couple things about how biblical authors counted:

  • The first unit of time after something happens begins immediately after the event. We still use this convention today. It’s why a president’s “first” year in office is the one that begins immediately upon his inauguration. His first year isn’t complete until he reaches his twelve-month anniversary.
  • Where the ancients differed from us is that they would often count parts for wholes. For example, they would often consider an emperor’s first year to be the time from when he took office to the beginning of the next calendar year. His “second” year would begin with New Year’s Day, meaning that his “first” year wasn’t twelve months long. Yet though it was only part of a twelve-month period, it was counted as a year.

The same thing applied to other units of time, such as months, weeks, days, and hours, and this has implications for the Crucifixion:

  • Jesus died at around 3 p.m. (cf. Luke 23:44-46), which means the first day of his death was the remainder of the day of preparation, between 3 p.m. and sunset.
  • The second day then began at sunset and lasted through the entire sabbath (i.e., it was Friday night and Saturday daytime).
  • The third day then began at sundown on the sabbath and lasted until sunset on the first day of the week (i.e., it was Saturday night and Sunday daytime).

This is why, on the road to Emmaus, the disciples can tell Jesus that “it is now the third day” since the Crucifixion (Luke 24:21).

We thus have abundant evidence pointing to the Friday-Saturday-Sunday chronology, with Jesus being raised “on the third day.”

 

“Three Days and Three Nights”?

How, then, do we explain the single verse in which Jesus says he will be in the belly of the earth for “three days and three nights”?

If we took that literally to mean three full days—no more and no less—then it would mean Jesus would be dead for exactly seventy-two hours, which would place the Resurrection at 3 p.m.—something nobody proposes.

We must therefore recognize that this expression is not to be taken fully literally. It involves a figurative expression.

To understand that expression, we can’t impose our own culture’s ideas. We need to look at how ancient Jewish authors used language, and here scholars are clear.

As conservative Protestant Bible scholar R. T. France notes: “Three days and three nights was a Jewish idiom to a period covering only two nights” (Matthew, 213).

Similarly, D. A. Carson, another conservative Protestant Bible scholar, explains: “In rabbinical thought a day and a night make an onah, and a part of an onah is as the whole. . . . Thus according to Jewish tradition, ‘three days and three nights’ need mean no more than ‘three days’ or the combination of any part of three separate days” (Expositor’s Bible Commentary, 8:296).

“Three days and three nights” is just an especially demonstrative way of saying “three days.” It doesn’t literally mean seventy-two hours.

And because of the ancients’ tendency to count parts for wholes—that is, to round numbers up—the three days of Jesus’ death were the final part of Friday, all of Saturday, and the first part of Sunday.

Of course, the phrase “three days and three nights”—with no further context—could mean seventy-two hours, but we have context for Matthew’s use of this phrase.

Ultimately, one cannot use a single verse that can be understood in more than one way to overturn all other the evidence we have from the New Testament—and from later in the Gospel of Matthew itself.

Scholars thus are on safe ground when they maintain the historic position that Jesus was crucified on a Friday.

Did Jesus Have a Miraculous Birth?

You might think that the question we are asking has an obvious answer, since Jesus was conceived without a human father. That, of itself, makes his birth miraculous, doesn’t it?

It does, but we are actually asking something different: Did the process of the birth itself—presumably nine months after conception—involve a miracle?

The New Testament does not address this question, but, as we will see, it has been discussed from surprisingly early times.

Basically, two types of miracles (and usually both) have been proposed in connection with Jesus’ birth:

  1. Mary did not experience labor pains.
  2. Jesus did not pass through Mary’s birth canal. Instead, he passed from her womb the way he passed through the walls of his sealed tomb.

On what basis have these been proposed?

 

An Argument from Genesis

One basis for Mary being free from labor pains has been seen in Genesis 3:16, where God tells Eve—and, by extension, future women:

I will greatly multiply your pain in childbearing; in pain you shall bring forth children.

The argument is that, since Mary was immaculately conceived, she was not under this curse and thus would not experience labor pains.

The argument has some weight, but the biblical text does not require that Eve would have experienced no pains at all. God says that he will “greatly multiply” (Heb., harbeh arbeh) her pains, which could suggest that there would have been pain even in an unfallen state.

Some theologians have proposed that an unfallen Adam and Eve would have experienced no pain, but this is a matter of theological speculation. (In Fundamentals of Catholic Dogma, Ludwig Ott lists the view as sententia communis or “common opinion,” p. 104.)

What Scripture indicates entered the world for the first time upon the fall was human death (cf. Gen. 2:17), not any and all pain (note also Jesus’ sufferings in an unfallen state).

 

An Argument from Revelation

At the other end of the Bible, in Revelation 12:1-2, John sees a great sign in heaven:

And a great portent appeared in heaven, a woman clothed with the sun, with the moon under her feet, and on her head a crown of twelve stars; she was with child and she cried out in her pangs of birth, in anguish for delivery.

This symbol, in part, refers to the Virgin Mary, for the woman gives birth to “a male child, one who is to rule all the nations with a rod of iron” (Rev. 12.5)—that is, she gives birth to Jesus.

Since she is explicitly stated to have labor pains, some have proposed that the Virgin Mary did experience labor pains in giving birth to Jesus.

While this is a natural interpretation of the text, it also is not certain.

First, Mary experienced post-birth sufferings in connection with being the mother of Jesus (Luke 2:34-35), most notably when she saw her Son hanging on a cross (John 19:25-27). Given the prominent role of symbolism in Revelation, it could be that Mary’s post-birth sufferings as the mother of the Messiah are here depicted rather than literal labor pains.

Second, while the image of the woman in Revelation 12 does point to the Virgin Mary, it also points to other things, like other symbols in Revelation (cf. Rev. 17:9-10). Thus the symbol also points to Israel and the Church.

The birth pains, therefore, might not apply to Mary but to one of these other referents, such as the pains that Israel endured as part of its national experience when the Messiah appeared (think: Roman oppression).

 

A Physiological Argument

One also can propose a physiological argument for an absence of birth pains: If Jesus didn’t pass through Mary’s birth canal then there would be no need for her to experience labor pains.

The cause of labor pains are the forceful contractions that are intended to push the child through the birth canal, so if Jesus didn’t go through the latter then there would be no need for contractions and thus no need for labor pains.

This argument also has weight, but it depends on the timing of Jesus’ departure from the womb. If it happened early enough, then there would be no labor pains. However, if it happened late enough then such pains would have resulted.

The physiological argument brings us to the second miracle that has been proposed in connection with Christ’s birth—his exiting Mary’s womb without going through the birth canal—so what is the evidence for that?

 

Virginity In Partu

Church teaching holds that Mary was a perpetual virgin, meaning that she was a virgin before, during, and after Jesus’ birth.

The fact she was a virgin in the act of giving birth is referred to as her virginity in partu (Latin, “in bearing,” “in giving birth”).

Thus the Second Vatican Council taught that “at the birth of our Lord,” Jesus “did not diminish his mother’s virginal integrity but sanctified it” (Lumen Gentium 57).

Historically, this has been understood as meaning that Jesus did not injure Mary’s hymen, the presence of which was taken in biblical times as proof of virginity (cf. Deut. 22:13-17), though this is not a medically sure test for reasons we will not discuss.

On the assumption that Jesus did not injure Mary’s hymen, would this show that he did not pass through her birth canal?

It could mean that, and that has certainly been the common historic understanding, but God is omnipotent, and if he can miraculously take Jesus out of the womb altogether, he also could miraculously preserve Mary’s hymen through a vaginal birth.

 

What Does Church Teaching Require?

In his book Fundamentals of Catholic Dogma, German theologian Ludwig Ott proposes that the teaching that “Mary bore her Son without any violation of her virginal integrity” is defined as a matter of faith “on the ground of the general promulgation of doctrine” (p. 205).

In other words, he argues that it is a dogma (something that has been infallibly defined as a matter of divine revelation) by the ordinary and universal magisterium rather than by a decree of a pope or council. However, he then states:

The dogma merely asserts the fact of the continuance of Mary’s physical virginity without determining more closely how this is to be physiologically explained. In general, the Fathers and the Schoolmen conceived it as non-injury to the hymen, and accordingly taught that Mary gave birth in miraculous fashion without opening of the womb and injury to the hymen, and consequently also without pains (cf. S. Th. III 28, 2).

However, according to modern natural scientific knowledge, the purely physical side of virginity consists in the non-fulfilment of the sex act (“sex-act virginity”) and in the non-contact of the female egg by the male seed (“seed-act virginity”) (A. Mitterer). Thus, injury to the hymen in birth does not destroy virginity, while, on the other hand, its rupture seems to belong to complete natural motherhood. It follows from this that from the concept of virginity alone the miraculous character of the process of birth cannot be inferred, if it cannot be, and must not be derived from other facts of revelation. Holy Writ attests Mary’s active role in the act of birth (Matt. 1:25; Luke 2:7: “She brought forth”) which does not seem to indicate a miraculous process.

But the Fathers, with few exceptions, vouch for the miraculous character of the birth.

From this one might conclude that, although Jesus was miraculously conceived, he didn’t experience a miraculous birth—either in terms of Mary not having labor pains or in terms of not passing through her birth canal.

On that view, the Fathers who advocated a miraculous birth simply made a mistaken inference based on how virginity was understood in their time. Mary remained a perpetual virgin even if Jesus had a totally normal birth.

However, before adopting such a conclusion, one should be aware that this isn’t an idea that only arose in later centuries. It’s early.

Amazingly early.

 

The Protoevangelium of James

For example, a document known as the Protoevangelium of James (also called the Infancy Gospel of James) attests to Christ’s miraculous birth. It was probably written in the mid-second century (c. 150).

According to the Protoevangelium, when the holy family was on the way to Bethlehem, the following happened:

And they came into the middle of the road, and Mary said to him: Take me down from off the ass, for that which is in me presses to come forth (ch. 17).

This would suggest that Mary experienced at least some discomfort, though not necessarily the sharp pains of labor. The miracle itself occurs afterward, and it occurs in two parts.

First, after finding a place for Mary in a cave in Bethlehem and making sure she is taken care of, Joseph goes in search of a midwife. While doing so, he sees an amazing vision in which time seems to stop for a moment (ch. 18). However, this is something that accompanies the birth and does not directly pertain to the birth itself.

Second, upon finding a midwife, Joseph takes her back to the cave and the following occurs:

And they stood in the place of the cave, and behold a luminous cloud overshadowed the cave. And the midwife said: “My soul has been magnified this day, because my eyes have seen strange things—because salvation has been brought forth to Israel.”

And immediately the cloud disappeared out of the cave, and a great light shone in the cave, so that the eyes could not bear it. And in a little that light gradually decreased, until the infant appeared, and went and took the breast from his mother Mary (ch. 19).

This does not directly say that Jesus didn’t pass through Mary’s birth canal, but it suggests that since the great light fades and the baby Jesus seems to appear without a normal birth.

 

The Odes of Solomon

An earlier and more explicit reference to a miraculous birth is found in the Odes of Solomon, which is a collection of 42 early Christian hymns that were written in the second half of the first century—perhaps fifty years after the Crucifixion. According to the Odes:

So the Virgin became a mother
With great mercies.

And she labored and bore the Son but without pain,
Because it did not occur without purpose.

And she did not seek a midwife,
Because he allowed her to give life.

She bore with desire as a strong man.
And she bore according to the manifestation;
And she possessed with great power (Odes of Solomon 19:7-10).

The translation of this passage is difficult, and scholars have rendered portions of it differently. For example, some have taken the statement that Mary bore Jesus “with desire as a strong man” to mean that she gave birth as a deliberate act of will and that the birth did not come upon her suddenly, with her playing a passive role like a normal woman experiencing the onset of labor.

However that may be, what is not in doubt is that the passage says that Mary “bore the Son without pain.”

We thus have first-century testimony to a painless birth.

 

The Ascension of Isaiah

Another first century document that records a miraculous birth is the Ascension of Isaiah. Based on clues it gives, this work appears to have been composed in A.D. 67.

According to it, the birth of Jesus took place two months after Joseph received Mary into his home:

It came to pass that when they were alone that Mary straight-way looked with her eyes and saw a small babe, and she was astonished.

And after she had been astonished, her womb was found as formerly before she had conceived. . . .

And the story regarding the infant was noised broad in Bethlehem.

Some said: “The Virgin Mary hath borne a child, before she was married two months.”

And many said: “She has not borne a child, nor has a midwife gone up (to her), nor have we heard the cries of (labor) pains” (Ascension of Isaiah 11:7-14).

Here Jesus suddenly appears, without passing through the birth canal, and Mary’s womb is found as it was before, which presumably means that she was no longer large with child (though it also could mean an examination of her hymen was carried out; see Protoevangelium of James 20).

We also have an explicit statement that she did not experience labor pains.

The author of this document appears not to be aware of the Gospels of Matthew and Luke. This is not surprising since, by my estimate, Luke was written only eight years earlier and Matthew was written even more recently.

In any event, the author seems to be reporting traditions that were circulating about Jesus’ birth just 34 years after the Crucifixion, which is very early indeed.

 

Conclusion

The late Cardinal Avery Dulles pointed out that there is flexibility in Church teaching regarding the precise way in which Jesus was born an in which Mary’s virginity in giving birth is to be understood:

The Church, Cardinal Dulles said, “has not committed itself to any particular physical theory” of virginity in partu, and therefore the possibility that Mary “could have suffered some pains in birth” may be “compatible with Catholic doctrine.” The cardinal also pointed out that further doctrinal development and magisterial teaching could clarify the question one way or the other (source).

However, before we use that flexibility to adopt the view of Jesus’ birth that is easier from a modern perspective (i.e., a non-miraculous interpretation), we need to bear in mind that we are already standing in the presence of a miracle (a virginal conception!) and we have amazingly early testimony regarding a miraculous birth.

While the details of the three documents differ, they all attest to something extraordinary happening at Jesus’ birth, and in A.D. 67 the Ascension of Isaiah refers both to a lack of birth pains and to Jesus not passing through the birth canal!

When Was Jesus Born? – Jimmy Akin’s Mysterious World

Christmas is December 25, but was that the actual date Jesus was born? Some claim evidence from the Bible and temple rituals. Other say evidence from the Bible show it isn’t or that it was just a co-opting of a pagan festival. Does it even matter? Jimmy Akin and Dom Bettinelli look at the claims and counter-claims about what we can and can’t prove about when Jesus was born.

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Was Jesus Born December 25th?

Every year as Christmas approaches, it’s common to hear claims like these:

  • Jesus wasn’t born on December 25.
  • He couldn’t have been, because the shepherds wouldn’t have had their flocks in the field (Luke 2:8).
  • Christians got December 25 from a pagan holiday.

On the other hand, one sometimes encounters these claims:

  • Jesus was definitely born on December 25.
  • The Catholic Church claims that he was.
  • The denial of this is an attack on Christianity.
  • The early Christians would have been intensely interested in the day of Jesus’ birth and would have recorded it based on Mary’s memory of the day.

Let’s look at both sets of claims, though first let’s look at the year he was born.

 

The Year Jesus Was Born

A common—though incorrect—view is that he was born around 6-7 B.C. This is based on the idea Herod the Great died in 4 B.C. and Jesus must have been born around two years earlier, since Herod “killed all the male children in Bethlehem and in all that region who were two years old or under” (Matt. 2:16).

However, better studies indicate Herod died in 1 B.C. This agrees with the data from the Gospels, which indicate John the Baptist began his ministry “in the fifteenth year of Tiberius Caesar” (Luke 3:1)—i.e., A.D. 29—that Jesus was baptized shortly thereafter (3:21), and that he began his ministry when “about thirty years of age” (3:23).

If you subtract thirty years from A.D. 29 then—since there is no “Year Zero”—you land in 2 B.C.

This agrees with the date given by the Church Fathers, who overwhelmingly place the birth of Jesus in the forty-second year of Augustus Caesar or 3/2 B.C. (i.e., the last part of 3 B.C. and the first part of 2 B.C.).

For more information on Jesus birth, see Jack Finegan, Handbook of Biblical Chronology, 2nd ed., and Andrew Steinmann, From Abraham to Paul.

Now, on to the claims regarding the day of Jesus’ birth. . . .

 

“Keeping Watch Over their Flock”

Luke says shepherds were out at night with their flock, but this doesn’t eliminate December 25—or any other winter date.

Ancient Jews didn’t have large indoor spaces for housing sheep. Flocks were kept outdoors during winter in Judaea, as they are elsewhere in the world today, including in places where snow is common.

Search the internet for “winter sheep care” and you’ll find pages by modern sheep owners explaining it’s perfectly fine to keep flocks outside in winter. Sheep are adapted to life outdoors. That’s why they have wool, which keeps body heat in and moisture out.

Sheep are kept outdoors in Israel during winter even today:

William Hendricksen quotes a letter dated Jan. 16, 1967, received from the New Testament scholar Harry Mulder, then teaching in Beirut, in which the latter tells of being in Shepherd Field at Bethlehem on the just-passed Christmas Eve, and says: “Right near us a few flocks of sheep were nestled. Even the lambs were not lacking. . . . It is therefore definitely not impossible that the Lord Jesus was born in December” (Jack Finegan, Handbook of Biblical Chronology, 2nd ed., §569).

 

The Pagan Holiday Claim

Might Christians have decided to celebrate Jesus’ birthday on December 25 to create an alternative to a popular pagan celebration?

Some Christians do this sort of thing today. Because of the macabre overtones Halloween has in our culture, some Protestant churches hold “Harvest Festival” or “Reformation Day” celebrations on October 31 to give young people an alternative, so it’s not impossible early Christians might have done the same thing.

But there is a poor track record for claims Christian holidays have pagan origins. For example, the claim Easter has a pagan origin is based on a sketchy etymology for the English word Easter, which is allegedly based on the name of a Germanic goddess we otherwise have no record of.

Further, Easter didn’t start in England. It’s celebrated all over the Christian world, and in most languages its name derives from Pesakh—the Hebrew word for Passover—because Jesus was crucified at Passover. Thus, whatever it’s called in individual countries, has Jewish origins.

To sustain the claim Christmas is based on a pagan holiday, one would need to do two things: (1) Identify the pagan holiday it supplanted, and (2) show this was the intent of the Christians who introduced Christmas on December 25.

Some have claimed Christmas is based on the Roman holiday Saturnalia—a festival of the god Saturn. However, this holiday was celebrated on December 17, and though it was later expanded to include the days leading up to December 23, it was over before December 25. A Christian celebration on the latter day would not supplant Saturnalia.

A better candidate is Sol Invictus (Latin, “the Unconquerable Sun”), which was celebrated on December 25. However, the earliest record we have that may point to it being celebrated on that day is late and ambiguous.

The Christian Chronography of A.D. 354 records the “Birthday of the Unconquerable” was celebrated on that date in 354, but the identity of “the Unconquerable” is unclear. Since it’s a Christian document that elsewhere lists Jesus’ birthday as December 25, it could be the Unconquerable Christ—not the sun—whose birth was celebrated.

Even if Christmas and Sol Invictus were both on December 25, Christmas might have been the basis of Sol Invictus, or the reverse, or it might just be a coincidence. If you want to claim the date of Sol Invictus is the basis for Christmas, you need evidence.

That is hard to come by. Even if the Chronography of A.D. 354 refers to Sol Invictus being celebrated on December 25, this is the first reference to the fact, and—as we will see below—some Christians had held Jesus was born on that date for a long time.

If Christians were subverting Sol Invictus, we should find the Church Fathers saying, “Let’s provide an alternative celebration.” But we don’t. The Fathers who celebrated December 25 sincerely thought that’s when Jesus was born.

And even if Christmas was timed to subvert a pagan holiday, so what? Christmas is the celebration of the birth of Jesus Christ, and celebrating the birth of Christ is a good thing. So is subverting paganism. If the early Christians were doing both, big deal!

Ultimately, though, the evidence doesn’t support the claim. Benedict XVI got it right when he said:

The claim used to be made that December 25 developed in opposition to the Mithras myth, or as a Christian response to the cult of the unconquered sun promoted by Roman emperors in the third century in their efforts to establish a new imperial religion. However, these old theories can no longer be sustained (The Spirit of the Liturgy, 107-108).

 

Not a Matter of Doctrine

What about the assertion that the Catholic Church claims Jesus was born on December 25?

This isn’t the case. The Church celebrates Jesus’ birth on December 25, but this doesn’t amount to a claim he was born on that day.

The liturgical commemoration of an event doesn’t mean the Church holds it happened on that day. For example, the day a saint is commemorated is frequently the day of his death, but not always. Thus St. Ambrose’s memorial is on December 7, though he died on April 4.

One will find Church documents referring to the liturgical celebration of Jesus’ birth on December 25, but one won’t find any magisterial documents establishing it as a Church teaching that this is when he was born.

Though his birth has profound significance for our faith, the particular day it occurred is a matter of history rather than doctrine, and Christians needn’t be disturbed by the idea he was born another day.

 

An Attack on the Christianity—and Christ?

Is the claim Jesus was born another day an attack on Christianity?

It’s true that some who make this claim want to disparage or undermine Christianity, but not all have this motive. There are sincere Christians who argue Jesus was born another day. Some have even been taken in by the pagan holiday claim and are seeking to protect Christianity from being tainted by pagan associations.

We might be irked when an atheist says, in a superior manner, “You know, Jesus wasn’t really born on December 25,” but his motives are ultimately irrelevant. The claim he’s making is either true or false, and speculating about what’s going on in his heart will generate more heat than light.

What’s important is the evidence and where it leads us.

 

How Could They Not?

Sometimes defenders of December 25 argue the early Christians would have been intensely interested in the day of Jesus’ birth, and so—based on Mary’s memory of the day—they would have recorded it. How could they not have done so?

There are major problems with this argument. Christians have been curious about many things concerning Jesus that we have no reliable record of.

The Gospels are our most reliable records, but the fantastic expense of book production at the time meant the Evangelists could only record the details they considered most important.

Thus the Gospels don’t tell us the day or even the year of his birth. With the exception of the Finding at the Temple (Luke 2:41-51), they don’t tell us what happened during his childhood, and they tell us nothing at all about his appearance.

Later Christians were curious about all of these, but the fact the Evangelists don’t record them reveal that they didn’t consider it essential for us to know about them.

One reason they might not have considered Jesus’ birthday important is because the celebration of birthdays isn’t a human universal. Many cultures have very different attitudes toward time, and in the twentieth century western scholars working with poorer Middle Easterners could be surprised at how they didn’t have a clear idea of how old they were.

Historically, Jewish culture has been ambivalent toward birthdays, with some rabbis arguing they shouldn’t be celebrated at all, stating that doing so is a gentile or even idolatrous custom.

Some pointed to the fact that, in the Hebrew scriptures, the only birthday celebrated was that of the wicked figure Pharaoh (Gen. 40:20).

Other oppressive rulers also celebrated birthdays—sometimes on a monthly basis—and expected their subjects to do so as well. Thus in the time of the Maccabees, “On the monthly celebration of the king’s birthday, the Jews were taken, under bitter constraint, to partake of the sacrifices” (2 Macc. 6:7).

Roman emperors also had public celebrations of their birthdays, which involved idolatry and fueled Jewish antipathy to the custom.

The only birthday celebration in the New Testament was of the Roman puppet Herod Antipas, and that led to the martyrdom of John the Baptist (Matt. 14:1-12).

It’s thus no surprise to find early Christian writers like Origen, around A.D. 241, disparaging birthdays:

Not one from all the saints is found to have celebrated a festive day or a great feast on the day of his birth. No one is found to have had joy on the day of the birth of his son or daughter. Only sinners rejoice over this kind of birthday. For indeed we find in the Old Testament Pharaoh, king of Egypt, celebrating the day of his birth with a festival, and in the New Testament, Herod. However, both of them stained the festival of his birth by shedding human blood. For the Pharaoh killed “the chief baker,” Herod, the holy prophet John “in prison.” But the saints not only do not celebrate a festival on their birth days, but, filled with the Holy Spirit, they curse that day (Homilies on Leviticus 8:2).

Origen wasn’t alone in the early Church, and he illustrates how other cultures could have very different attitudes toward birthdays. The “how could they not preserve Jesus’ birthday?” argument thus does not succeed.

This isn’t to say early Christian sources didn’t preserve Jesus’ birthday, just that it’s not guaranteed they did. We thus need to look at the evidence.

 

A Biblical Argument?

Some argue that, though the New Testament doesn’t tell us what Jesus’ birthday was, it contains enough information for us to deduce it.

The argument goes like this: John the Baptist’s father—Zechariah—belonged to the priestly course of Abijah (Luke 1:5), one of twenty-four priestly courses that served in a regular rotation at the temple.

After his vision announcing the conception of John the Baptist, he returned home, and his wife, Elizabeth, became pregnant (1:23-25). Then “in the sixth month” of Elizabeth’s pregnancy, Gabriel appeared to Mary and announced the conception of Jesus (1:26-31).

Therefore, Jesus’ birth would have occurred fifteen months after Zechariah’s service ended, and if we can determine the date that happened then we can determine the date of Jesus’ birth.

While intriguing, this argument doesn’t allow us to determine the day of Jesus’ birth.

First, the priestly courses served at the temple twice a year, and we’d have to guess which of the two Zechariah was performing when he got the vision. That creates an uncertainty of six months.

Second, scholars aren’t sure when each priestly course was on duty. There are different proposals, and the matter is complicated by the fact some Jewish years had an extra month (much like our Leap Year) to keep the calendar in synch with the seasons.

Third, the argument assumes that John the Baptist was conceived immediately upon Zechariah’s return, but Luke doesn’t say that. He says Elizabeth became pregnant “after these days” (1:24).

Fourth, the argument assumes Gabriel appeared to Mary exactly six months after John’s conception, but that also isn’t what Luke says. He states the angel appeared “in the sixth month” (1:26, 36)—i.e., when Elizabeth was between five and six months pregnant. This creates a thirty-day ambiguity.

Fifth, the argument assumes Mary conceived the moment Gabriel spoke to her, but Luke doesn’t indicate that. Gabriel says “you will conceive” (Greek, sullêmpsê)—in the future tense—indicating Jesus will be conceived in the future, but not precisely when.

Sixth, the argument assumes Jesus was in the womb exactly nine months, but the average human gestation period is around 40 weeks from last ovulation. Given four-week months, that would be around ten months. Thus the book of Wisdom states: “in the womb of a mother I was molded into flesh, within the period of ten months” (Wis. 7:1-2). Further, the average human pregnancy varies by as much as five weeks in length, creating an uncertainty of thirty-five days.

In view of these uncertainties, this argument won’t allow us to determine the exact day of Jesus’ birth.

However, it may get us part of the way there. Based on a guess of which of the two priestly services Zechariah was performing, Jack Finegan calculates that the argument would point to a birthday somewhere between December and February, lending plausibility—based on biblical evidence—to Jesus being born in the winter (Handbook of Biblical Chronology, 2nd ed., §473), though it should be pointed out that making the opposite guess about Zechariah’s service would point to a birth in the summer.

 

The Church Fathers Weigh In

While the New Testament doesn’t name a specific day as the date of Jesus’ birth, some of the Church Fathers do.

Around A.D. 194, Clement of Alexandria stated that “from the Lord’s birth to the death of [the emperor] Commodus comprises 194 years one month and thirteen days” (Miscellanies[Stromateis] 1:21:145:5). Calculating backwards from the assassination of Commodus on December 31, 192, that would put the birth of Christ on November 18, 3 B.C.

Clement also reports there were some who held it occurred on the twenty-fifth of the Egyptian month of Pachon, which would correspond to May 20 of that year (1:21:145:6).

He further reports that some followers of the Gnostic Basilides said that it was on the twenty-fourth or twenty-fifth of the Egyptian month Pharmouthi, which would point to April 19 or 20 (1:21:146:4).

We thus see that, at the end of the second century, a number of different dates for Jesus’ birth were being proposed.

Around 204, St. Hippolytus of Rome wrote that “the first advent of our Lord in the flesh, when he was born in Bethlehem, was eight days before the Kalends of January, the fourth day [i.e., Wednesday], while Augustus was in his forty-second year [i.e., 3/2 B.C.]” (Commentary on Daniel 4:23:3). The Kalends was the first day of the month, and eight days before January 1 is December 25.

This is the earliest record we have of Jesus’ birth being December 25. It precedes by seventy years the time the Emperor Aurelian made Sol Invictus a Roman cult, and it precedes by a hundred and fifty years the earliest claimed reference to Sol Invictus being celebrated on December 25—that claim being based on the Chronography of A.D. 354.

Part 6 of the Chronography lists the following for the eighth day before the Kalends of January: “Birthday of the Unconquerable, games ordered, thirty [horse races].” This may well be a reference to a pagan holiday, but since the calendar was composed after the conversion of Constantine, this isn’t entirely certain.

Part 12 of the Chronolography, which is a calendar of the commemoration of martyrs, lists the following: “Eight days before the Kalends of January: Birth of Christ in Bethlehem of Judea.”

In 386, St. John Chrysostom preached a homily on December 20—the memorial of St. Philogonius—in which he noted that “the day of Christ’s birth in the flesh” is about to arrive in “a period of five days,” or on December 25 (On the Incomprehensible Nature of God 6:23, 30).

Finally, around 408, St. Augustine writes that “according to tradition he [Jesus] was born on December 25” (The Trinity 4:5).

Although the December 25 tradition was becoming well established, it was not the only one in circulation.

Around 375, St. Epiphanius of Salamis offered an extremely precise reckoning of the birth of Christ, stating: “Christ was born in the month of January, that is, on the eighth before the Ides of January—in the Roman calendar this is the evening of January fifth, at the beginning of January sixth” (Panarion 51:24:1). He also noted that a sect known as the Alogoi held the same date (51:29:2-5).

Ultimately, both December 25 and January 6 found places in the Church’s calendar, with the latter being used to commemorate the visit of the Magi and the baptism of Jesus.

 

Conclusion

Where does all this leave us? On the one hand, the arguments against Jesus being born on December 25 don’t work, and the claim the date was chosen to supplant a pagan celebration is unsupportable. Not only do we find Christians supporting December 25 well before the pagan holiday in question, we also don’t find them saying anything like, “Let’s provide an alternative celebration.” The ones who support December 25 sincerely believe that’s when Jesus was born.

On the other hand, the Bible doesn’t give us enough information to determine Jesus’ birthday, and the tradition in the Church Fathers is mixed, with different dates being proposed.

It has been noted that in the ancient world two of the dates—December 25 and January 6—were sometimes reckoned as the date of the winter solstice, the time when days begin to get longer. Further, the Church Fathers discussed Christ’s birth in terms of light coming into the world, based on Malachi’s prophecy: “For you who fear my name the sun of righteousness shall rise, with healing in its wings” (4:2).

Therefore, it’s possible that the belief Christ was born on a solstice date was based on this prophecy. Alternately, there may have been a memory that Christ was born in the winter, and the specific date was determined based on the prophecy. Or it may be that Christ simply was born on one of these dates, and its conjunction with ancient reckonings of the solstice was a matter of divine providence.

Whatever the case, Christ was born. The sun of righteousness did rise, and “the people who sat in darkness have seen a great light, and for those who sat in the region and shadow of death light has dawned” (Matt. 4:16; Isa. 9:2).

When Was John Written?

The Gospel of John gets a bad rap among skeptical scholars, and many place less value on it than on Matthew, Mark, and Luke.

One reason is that they date it later than the other Gospels.

But when was it really written?

Let’s look at the evidence . . .

 

Physical Evidence

A couple of centuries ago, it became fashionable in biblical scholarship to assign very late dates to John.

For example, the famed German scholar F. C. Baur (1792-1860) dated it to between A.D. 160 and A.D. 170 (The Church History of the First Three Centuries 1:163-164, 175).

Such dates fell out of favor after more recent discoveries. One of the most important was a document known as “the Rylands Papyrus” (aka P52) which is held in the John Rylands University Library in Manchester, England.

The fragment is small (3.5 by 2.5 inches). One side contains text from John 18:31-33 and the other from John 18:37-38.

This fragment has commonly been dated to the first half of the second century, say around A.D. 125 (though this is disputed).

This pushed the date of John back to the beginning of the second century or to sometime in the first century. According to Raymond Brown, SJ, the Gospel is commonly dated by scholars today sometime between 80 and 110 (An Introduction to the New Testament, 334).

However, this view is not well supported.

 

The Evidence of Revelation?

Sometimes scholars, including conservative ones, date all the Johannine literature (John, 1-3 John, Revelation) to the A.D. 90s, seemingly because they aren’t sure when else to place them and this is a popular date for the book of Revelation.

This is problematic for several reasons:

  • It is based on the idea that the recent persecution referred to in Revelation is one that occurred under the emperor Domitian, but there was no Domitianic persecution.
  • As we will see below, we actually have good reason to date Revelation considerably earlier, in the late 60s.
  • People’s literary careers can span decades, and there is no necessary connection between the time Revelation was written and the time the Gospel was.

Revelation thus does not serve as a good anchor for the writing of John’s Gospel.

 

John’s Advanced Age?

Sometimes a late date for John’s Gospel is advocated because of a remark the Evangelist makes to rebut a rumor that he would not die before the Second Coming (John 21:20-23).

This has been taken to indicate that John must have been at an advanced age and saw his death approaching, motivating him to rebut the rumor before he died, lest it cause consternation among the faithful.

However, this does not require a date in the 80s or 90s. If John were written in the mid 60s (as we will argue below), then he already would have been quite mature, even if he were among the youngest of the disciples.

Witnessing the increasing persecution of Christians and actual or approaching martyrdom of apostles (Acts 12:2, John 21:18-19), he could have felt the need to respond to the rumor by the mid 60s.

 

Situational Arguments

Sometimes scholars argue that John should be assigned a date late in the first century because of the situation it suggests the Church was in. For example:

  • The book has a very high view of Christ’s divinity (John 1:1-5, 14:6, etc.), suggesting a late date.
  • The book refers to people being put out of the synagogues (John 9:22, 12:42, 16:2), suggesting a date after the final break with Judaism, which is often claimed to be around A.D. 85.
  • The book refers to “the Jews” as a separate and frequently hostile group (John 1:19, 2:18, 20, etc.).

Situational arguments like this are quite weak. A given generation can have theological savants in it—like John and Paul—who may sound decades more sophisticated than their contemporaries, and there’s nothing in the substance of John’s Christology that isn’t found in Paul. (This argument also ignores the role of Jesus himself; if Jesus had a high view of his own divinity then we would expect at least some of his disciples—like John—to mention it!)

Similarly, as we’ve noted, persecution in the synagogues was a familiar experience for Jewish Christians all the way through New Testament history. Jesus himself was killed, and there is no reason to think that some of his followers weren’t being ostracized even earlier. Indeed, we would expect them to be!

Finally, we find other books of the New Testament referring to “the Jews” as a distinct and frequently hostile group (Matt. 28:15, Acts 9:22-23, 12:3, 13:45, 2 Cor. 11:24, 1 Thess. 2:14), and these books were written in the mid first century. Acts was written around 60, 2 Corinthians was written in 54 or 55, and 1 Thessalonians was written between 49 and 51!

 

Before the Fall of Jerusalem?

Like the Synoptic Gospels, John does not refer to the fall of Jerusalem or the destruction of the temple in A.D. 70.

However, it is harder to make a case from this that John was written before 70 because—unlike the Synoptics—it does not contain a straightforward prediction of the temple’s destruction.

Jesus does allude to it (John 2:19), as does Caiaphas (John 11:48). But Jesus’ reference is only implicit, and the high priest only makes a conjecture. In neither case does Jesus say that the temple will be destroyed, as he does in the Synoptics.

Without an explicit prophecy of the temple’s destruction, we would not expect a prophetic fulfillment notice, and so the fact that John doesn’t give us one amounts only to a weak argument from silence.

Yet there is a verse which does imply a pre-70 date:

Now there is in Jerusalem by the Sheep Gate a pool, in Hebrew called Beth-Zatha, which has five porticoes (John 5:2).

The Greek word here for “is” (estin) is present tense, indicating a present state of affairs: John is saying that the pool Beth-Zatha (aka “Bethesda”), with its five porticoes, exists in Jerusalem at the time he is writing.

He would not have made this claim after Jerusalem fell, for as the Jewish historian Josephus reports, the Roman general Titus “ordered the whole city and the temple to be razed to the ground, leaving only the loftiest of the towers, Phasael, Hippicus, and Mariamme, and the portion of the wall enclosing the city on the west” (Jewish War 7:1:1-2).

John 5:2 thus gives us reason to hold that the Gospel was written before the destruction in 70 (see Daniel B. Wallace, “John 5, 2 and the Date of the Fourth Gospel”).

If this is correct, A.D. 70 would serve as the upper boundary for when John was composed.

What about the lower boundary?

 

John and the Other Evangelists

The early Church Fathers commonly regard John as the last of the Gospels to be written.

The work itself does not say this, but its last verse at least hints that several Gospels were written previously:

But there are also many other things which Jesus did; were every one of them to be written, I suppose that the world itself could not contain the books that would be written (John 21:25).

This suggests that John was aware of several previous books about Jesus’ deeds, and these likely included one or more of the canonical Gospels.

There is quite good evidence that John knew the Gospel of Mark. In fact, there is evidence that he used Mark as a template around which to organize his own Gospel. I have argued this here. It is also argued by the British scholar Richard Bauckham in his chapter “John for Readers of Mark” in The Gospels for All Christians.

There are also reasons to think that John knew Luke’s Gospel. I have been struck by the way John seems to expand upon events mentioned in Luke, particularly in the latter’s Resurrection Narrative. For example:

  • Luke’s statement, “Peter rose and ran to the tomb; stooping and looking in, he saw the linen cloths by themselves; and he went home wondering at what had happened” (Luke 24:12) is expanded upon by John 20:1-10.
  • Luke’s statement, “And while they still disbelieved for joy, and wondered, he said to them, ‘Have you anything here to eat?’They gave him a piece of broiled fish, and he took it and ate before them” (Luke 24:41-43) is expanded upon by John 21:1-14.
  • Luke exclusively focuses on post-Resurrection events that occurred in or near Jerusalem (Luke 24:1-51), in contrast to Matthew and Mark, who focus on post-Resurrection appearances that occurred in Galilee (Matt. 28:7, 10, 16-20, Mark 16:7; cf. Matt. 26:32, Mark 14:28). By contrast, John indicates that Jesus appeared to the disciples both in Jerusalem and in Galilee (John 20:19-21:23).

It thus seems that there are good reasons to think that John knew Mark, which was composed around A.D. 55, and Luke, which likely was published in A.D. 59.

These dates would put the composition of John between 59 and 70—i.e., in the A.D. 60s.

But there is one Gospel that we still have to consider.

What about Matthew?

 

John and Matthew

While a significant number of scholars have thought that John shows awareness of Mark and Luke, fewer have thought that he shows awareness of Matthew.

The claim that he does has been recently argued by James Barker in his book John’s Use of Matthew.

I am still evaluating the case that John knew Matthew. On independent grounds, I have argued that Matthew was written in the A.D. 60s, say around 65—the same period to which we have dated John.

If Matthew was written in this period, and if it had come into John’s hands, then he may have had little time to assimilate it, resulting in the lesser impact it had on his Gospel compared to Mark and Luke.

At present, I don’t have a judgment on whether Matthew was written first or whether John was. So far, we can only say that it looks like both were written sometime in the 60s.

 

The Book of Revelation Redivivus

The dating of the book of Revelation now returns to affect the dating of John’s Gospel. As I mentioned before, we have evidence that Revelation was written considerably before the date it is often assigned in the 90s.

Specifically, it appears to have been written shortly before the fall of the temple in A.D. 70, during the brief reign of the Emperor Galba (the one emperor who “is,” after the five who have fallen; cf. Revelation 17:10). Galba reigned from June 8 of A.D. 68 to January 15 of A.D. 69.

We also know that Revelation was written when John was in exile on Patmos (Rev. 1:9). This is likely responsible for the difference in the Greek styles of Revelation and the Gospel of John.

While in exile, John may not have had access to the kind of editorial help he may have employed when writing the Gospel (i.e., he may not have had access to a good amanuensis to polish his Greek).

Unfortunately, we do not know much about when John’s exile to Patmos began or ended. However, it is likely both that he was in exile before Galba’s brief reign began and that he remained in it through 69, the chaotic “Year of Four Emperors.”

He thus was likely in exile during at least the last two years of the 60s, meaning the Gospel would have been written in the early or mid 60s.

 

Peter’s Martyrdom

There is one additional factor that may help us date the Gospel. Toward its end, Jesus tells Peter:

Truly, truly, I say to you, when you were young, you girded yourself and walked where you would; but when you are old, you will stretch out your hands, and another will gird you and carry you where you do not wish to go (John 21:18).

John then adds:

This he said to show by what death he [Peter] was to glorify God (John 21:19).

This is commonly understood to mean that John’s Gospel was written after Peter’s martyrdom and that John was looking back on the event.

In a currently unpublished study, I have dated the martyrdom of Peter to the mid 60s. It likely took place in mid 65 or mid 66. If so, then the Gospel would have been written in a very short time frame, say in 66 or 67.

However, there is reason to question the premise on which this argument is based.

Most English translations of John 21:19, including the RSV (quoted above), make it sound like Peter’s martyrdom is a past event. They speak of the death by which “he was to glorify God.”

But the Greek text actually has the future tense at this point. The relevant verb is doksasei (“he will/shall glorify”). Some of the most literal translations thus render the passage along these lines:

And this he said, signifying by what death he shall glorify God (John 21:19, Young’s Literal Translation).

I’m uncertain why most translations render the passage the way they do. It may simply be due to the prevalent view among translators that John was written after Peter’s death. However, the Greek verb is future tense.

If the more literal translation is correct, it would appear that Peter’s martyrdom is still in the future at the point that John is writing—or at least that it occurred so recently that John has not yet received word of the martyrdom.

Word of Peter’s death would have spread quickly in the Christian world, though it would have taken months to make its way around the Mediterranean.

If John was in Ephesus at this time, he likely would have heard within a few weeks. (The ORBIS ancient travel database indicates a minimum travel time of just over 12 days between Rome and Ephesus during the spring and summer months, when Peter likely was martyred.)

If the literal translation of John 21:19 is correct, the latest possible date for John’s Gospel thus would be within a few weeks of Peter’s martyrdom, which would still leave us in the 65-66 time frame.

 

Conclusion

In view of the above, I estimate that John’s Gospel was written between the publication of Luke in 59 and the martyrdom of Peter in 65-66. For the sake of convenience, I will reckon it as approximately 65.

This would give us the following dates for the publication of the Gospels and Acts:

  • Mark: approximately 55 (info here)
  • Luke: approximately 59 (info here)
  • Acts: approximately 60 (info here)
  • Matthew: approximately 65 (info here, here, here, and here)
  • John: approximately 65

It thus appears that the historical books of the New Testament were written in the span of about a decade.