Why We Should Be Cautious Using the Big Bang Argument

Since it was proposed by Fr. Georges Lemaître, the Big Bang has been common in discussions of the existence of God.

The reasons are obvious. The Big Bang looks like a plausible beginning for the physical universe. Things that begin need causes. The beginning of the physical universe would need a cause, which would seem to lie outside the physical universe. This coheres well with the Christian claim that God is a non-physical being who created the physical universe.

The argument has been elaborated various ways, but that’s the basic idea.

One of its fans was Pope Pius XII, who elaborated a version of it in a speech about this to the Pontifical Academy of the Sciences back in 1951.

It’s basically a version of the Kalaam cosmological argument that uses evidence from modern cosmology to support the premise that the universe had a beginning.

It even resonates with the “Let there be light” moment in Genesis.

I think that there is a proper role for the Big Bang in discussions of God’s existence, but it has to be used with some caution.

Here’s why . . .

 

“Let There Be Light”?

One temptation is to identify the Big Bang not just as the moment of creation but specifically as the creation of light in Genesis 1. That’s problematic because Genesis does not portray the creation of light as the moment the world came into existence. Let’s look at the text:

1 In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth.
2 The earth was formless and void, and darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was moving over the surface of the waters.
3 Then God said, “Let there be light”; and there was light.

In the text, the earth already exists in a formless and empty state, with a deep of waters that has a surface, which the Spirit of God hovers over. Then light gets created.

So Genesis depicts the creation of light happening when the heavens and the earth and its waters already exist. At least that is how the text depicts it. You can argue that this isn’t to be taken literally, but that only makes the same point another way: We shouldn’t be too quick to identify the Big Bang with the creation of light in Genesis. We have to be careful about mapping Genesis onto modern cosmology.

In fact, Pope John Paul II warned specifically against trying to draw scientific conclusions from the creation account in Genesis 1:

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

 

The Moment of Creation?

There is another thing we need to be careful about, which is identifying the Big Bang as the moment of the physical universe came into existence.

It may well have been. I would love for us to find a way to prove that scientifically.

But we’re not there at present.

We just don’t understand it. The evidence shows that it happened, but not why it happened. We have very little clue about that scientifically—and there may well be no scientific answer. It may be that God just did it, and did it in a way not susceptible to scientific study.

But that’s not the only option. There are others that cannot presently be ruled out on scientific grounds. For example, the visible universe we see today may have budded off of a larger universe that we cannot see, and the moment it budded off may have been the Big Bang. There are other options, too.

Implications

If we one day get solid evidence of something physical existing before the Big Bang, what would the implications be?

From the viewpoint of the Christian faith, if there was a physical universe before the Big Bang then it would mean that God created the universe—from nothing—even farther back in time than we can currently see.

From the viewpoint of discussions of God’s existence, it would mean that one of the premises in the Kalaam cosmological argument would lose its scientific support–unless, of course, new science pointed to a beginning even further back. (And there are those who have argued on scientific grounds that the universe cannot extend back infinitely far in time.)

Losing scientific support from the Big Bang would not disprove the existence of God. It wouldn’t even disprove the Kalaam cosmological argument. It would just mean that the premise in question would have to be supported some other way.

If it were to turn out that the Big Bang was not the beginning of the physical universe then this argument in apologetics would have to be revised.

That’s nothing to be ashamed of, though. Apologetics, like the physical sciences, is subject to revision based on the evidence available at the time.

New Science?

Some scientists, such as the iconoclastic Roger Penrose, have already claimed to have found evidence of a pre-Big Bang universe, though his claims are disputed by other scientists.

Plans are afoot, though, for a new set of scientific projects that may let us discern something about the state of the universe before the Big Bang (if there was one). More info here.

It will be interesting to see what the results of these are.

For now, though, the Big Bang still looks like the beginning of the physical universe, and it has a legitimate place in discussions of God’s existence.

It just should not be presented as if we had absolute proof of creation in time, because we don’t.

That’s something that Pius XII pointed out in his 1951 speech.

While hailing the discovery of the Big Bang, he also cautioned that “the facts established up to the present time are not an absolute proof of creation in time, as are the proofs drawn from metaphysics and revelation.”

So, while the idea of the Big Bang is consistent with the idea that the universe was created a finite time ago, and while the Big Bang may be that moment of creation, we should not present this as if it were definitively established.

Who Is the Holy Spirit?

The divinity of the Holy Spirit was infallibly defined at the First Council of Constantinople in A.D. 381, but not everyone accepts the fact that the Holy Spirit is a divine Person–one of the three Persons of the Blessed Trinity.

For example, Jehovah’s Witnesses claim that the Holy Spirit is merely God’s “energy” or “active force.”

In this video, Jimmy Akin shows a simple and surprising way that you can use the Bible to show both that the Holy Spirit is a Person and that he is a divine Person, alongside the Father and the Son.

What Now?

If you like the information I’ve presented here, you should join my Secret Information Club.

If you’re not familiar with it, the Secret Information Club is a free service that I operate by email.

I send out information on a variety of fascinating topics connected with the Catholic faith.

In fact, the very first thing you’ll get if you sign up is information about what Pope Benedict said about the book of Revelation.

He has a lot of interesting things to say!

If you’d like to find out what they are, just sign up at www.SecretInfoClub.com or use this handy sign-up form:

 

Just email me at jimmy@secretinfoclub.com if you have any difficulty.

In the meantime, what do you think?

8 things to know and share about Pentecost

Where did the feast of Pentecost come from, what happened on it, and what does it mean for us today? Here are 8 things to know and share . . .

The original day of Pentecost saw dramatic events that are important to the life of the Church.

But where did the feast of Pentecost come from?

How can we understand what happened on it?

And what does it mean for us today?

Here are 8 things to know and share about it . . .

 

1. What does the name “Pentecost” mean?

It comes from the Greek word for “fiftieth” (pentecoste). The reason is that Pentecost is the fiftieth day (Greek, pentecoste hemera) after Easter Sunday (on the Christian calendar).

This name came into use in the late Old Testament period and was inherited by the authors of the New Testament.

 

2. What else is this feast known as?

In the Old Testament, it is referred to by several names:

  • The feast of weeks
  • The feast of harvest
  • The day of first-fruits

Today in Jewish circles it is known as Shavu`ot (Hebrew, “weeks”).

It goes by various names in different languages.

In England (and English), it has also been known as “Whitsunday” (white Sunday). This name is presumably derived from the white baptismal garments of those recently baptized.

 

3. What kind of feast was Pentecost in the Old Testament?

KEEP READING.

What do baby names tell us about the reliability of the Gospels?

What do baby names tell us about the reliability of the Gospels?

Suppose, one day, you’re reading a historical account of life in Alaska in the 1920s and one of the main characters in the account is named Sting.

“That’s surprising,” you think.

Suppose that Sting is portrayed as married to a woman named Oprah.

“That’s improbable,” you recognize.

Then you read that Sting has a brother named Spock.

You say to yourself: “Okay. Something is wrong here.”

What is it? And what does all this have to do with the gospels?

You might be surprised, but the names of the figures mentioned in the gospels actually provide evidence that they’re true.

Here’s the story . . .

 

The basic problem

Fundamentally, the problem in our starting example is that the names “Sting,” “Oprah,” and “Spock” do not sound like they come from Alaska in the 1920s.

They sound like the names of pop culture figures from the second half of the 20th century (the 1960s and after, certainly).

There is no way that these names would be plausible in an account of what life was like in Alaska between 1920 and 1929.

Your recognition of this fact shows that you know something about the names that were common at this time–and that you can spot false reports of them.

 

So what about the gospels?

Linguists have devoted a lot of study to the question of how parents choose the names of their babies.

It’s a regular feature of textbooks on linguistics.

There are definite–but usually unnoticed–patterns to how babies are named.

But the actual ways they are named reveal what is on their parents’ minds–or at least what’s going on in their subconsciouses.

Now here’s the thing: Recently scholars have been looking at the frequencies with which names occurred in ancient Jewish sources, both inside and outside of Palestine, in the centuries before and after Christ.

What did they find?

KEEP READING.

Did Dinosaurs Die Before the Fall?

Did animals die before the Fall of Man?

St. Paul tells us:

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

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

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

What about animals that are carnivores?

Were lions vegetarians? How about alligators? Or sharks?

How about carnivores like Tyrannosaurus Rex?

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

 

A Key Concept

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now here’s the thing . . .

 

The Whole Material Universe Is Entropic

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

All material systems run down or break down over time.

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

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

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

So what about death before the Fall?

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

KEEP READING.

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

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

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

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

Here are 7 things he wants you to know.

 

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

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

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

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

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

 

2) What can we learn from this?

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

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

 

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

KEEP READING.

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

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

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

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

Here are 8 things to know and share . . .

 

1. Who was St. Mark?

St. Mark is commonly identified as:

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

KEEP READING.

What year was Jesus born? The answer may surprise you

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

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

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

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

Here’s what the evidence says . . .

 

Not in Year Zero

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So what year was Jesus born?

 

1 B.C.?

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

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

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

 

6-7 B.C.?

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

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

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

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

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

So: 6 or 7 B.C.

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

 

3-4 B.C.?

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

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

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

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

Thus: 3-4 B.C.

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

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

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

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

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

That means that there is some approximating going on here.

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

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

Thus all the boys two and under were killed.

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

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

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

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

Thus . . .

 

2-3 B.C.?

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

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

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

Do we have other evidence suggesting this date?

We do.

Both inside and outside the Bible.

 

The Gospel of Luke

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

The Fathers Know Best

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

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

The Alogoi

4 B.C. or A.D. 9

Cassiodorus Senator

3 B.C.

St. Irenaeus of Lyon

 3 B.C. or 2 B.C.

St. Clement of Alexandria

 3 B.C. or 2 B.C.

Tertullian of Carthage

 3 B.C. or 2 B.C.

Julius Africanus

 3 B.C. or 2 B.C.

St. Hippolytus of Rome

 3 B.C. or 2 B.C.

“Hippolytus of Thebes”

 3 B.C. or 2 B.C.

Origen of Alexandria

 3 B.C. or 2 B.C.

Eusebius of Caesarea

 3 B.C. or 2 B.C.

Epiphanius of Salamis

 3 B.C. or 2 B.C.

Orosius

2 B.C.

Dionysius Exiguus

1 B.C.

The Chronographer of the Year 354

A.D. 1

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

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

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

What year was Jesus born? The answer may surprise you

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

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

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

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

Here’s what the evidence says . . .

 

Not in Year Zero

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So what year was Jesus born?

 

1 B.C.?

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

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

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

 

6-7 B.C.?

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

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

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

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

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

So: 6 or 7 B.C.

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

 

3-4 B.C.?

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

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

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

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

Thus: 3-4 B.C.

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

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

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

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

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

That means that there is some approximating going on here.

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

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

Thus all the boys two and under were killed.

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

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

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

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

Thus . . .

 

2-3 B.C.?

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

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

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

Do we have other evidence suggesting this date?

We do.

Both inside and outside the Bible.

 

The Gospel of Luke

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

The Fathers Know Best

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They didn’t have to stay long, though.

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

 

Setting Aside a Common Mistake

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

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

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

So when did Herod actually die?

 

The Length of Herod’s Reign

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

How Is Josephus Counting Years?

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

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

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

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

What scheme was Josephus using?

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

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

Biblical chronology scholar Andrew E. Steinmann comments:

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

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

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

 

Herod Appointed King

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

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

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

Which?

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

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

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

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

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

 

Herod Conquers Jerusalem

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

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

Josephus said Herod died 34 years after the event.

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

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

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

 

Herod’s Lunar Eclipse

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

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

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

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

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

 

Final Answer?

Putting together the pieces above, we have:

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

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

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

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

 

We Know When Jesus Was Born

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

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

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

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

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

So . . . what year was Jesus born?

Stay tuned . . .