Can Scholars Take the Virgin Birth Seriously?

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Three clear arguments support belief in the virgin birth¹ of Jesus.

The first is textual. Both Matthew and Luke state clearly that Jesus was conceived by the Holy Spirit, without the aid of a human father:

According to the textual argument, since scripture consists of the inspired and inerrant words of God,^a it follows that Jesus was born of a virgin.

The second argument, while depending on the first, is more philosophical. It reasons that God, being God, can do whatever God pleases, without being limited or determined by the laws of nature that limit and determine us. Since we are told in scripture what God was pleased to do, it follows that Jesus was born of a virgin, by the will of the omnipotent God.

The third argument is theological, It reasons that since the time of Adam “all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God” (Romans 3:23; cf. Psalm 14:3). Human salvation therefore, if it were to occur, would be dependent upon God doing a “new thing,” creating a new situation for us, freed from the taint of moral and religious corruption, “one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin” (Hebrews 4:15). The virgin birth was this new creation—God doing what we cannot do, and doing it on our behalf. Since the appearance of Jesus was this 011new beginning (required for human salvation), it is both theologically necessary and appropriate that Jesus was born of a virgin.

The textual, philosophical and theological arguments are so clear (refined by centuries of reasoning), and for many so persuasive, that those who doubt the reality of a biological virgin birth are often accused of heresy, and charged with (1) doubting or tampering with biblical (New Testament) truth; (2) placing more confidence in the seeming laws of nature than in the power of God; and (3) refusing to believe in the salvation achieved and revealed through and in Jesus.

Modern doubts about the virgin birth are different only in their magnitude. Jews have never believed in the virgin birth of Jesus; they suffered for their lack of belief during the Inquisition (especially in Spain). Michael Servetus, who was burned at the stake in Calvin’s Geneva (1553), judged Jesus to be worthy but in no sense uniquely God’s son. Thomas Paine, the American patriot whose writing skills and political pamphlets helped fan the fires of the American Revolution, wrote in 1794:

“When … I am told that a woman called the Virgin Mary, said, or gave out, that she was with child without any cohabitation with a man, and that her betrothed husband, Joseph, said that an angel told him so; I have a right to believe them or not; such a circumstance requires a much stronger evidence than their bare word for it; but we have not even this—for neither Joseph nor Mary wrote any such matters themselves; it is only reported by others that they said so—it is hearsay upon hearsay, and I do not choose to rest my belief upon such evidence.”^b

Fortunately, the direction of modern biblical scholarship has not been determined by such simplistic and naturalistic thinking—however cleverly stated (and Paine was clever). For academically serious New Testament scholars, however, certain questions about the virgin birth must be answered.

How did Matthew and Luke come upon these stories? The accounts of the virgin birth obviously raise this question. Matthew’s answer would seem to consist of appeals to texts in the Hebrew Bible, not to contemporary reports or evidence. He believes that the Jewish Scriptures reliably foretell details in the life of the coming Messiah.

But, is the Hebrew Bible a dependable source of information about Jesus? Matthew, especially, seems to think so, but in a way that is hardly reassuring. Matthew tells us (Matthew 1:23) that the virgin conception of Jesus was to fulfill the prophecy of Isaiah (Isaiah 7:14), which Matthew 013quotes as follows: “Behold, a virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and his name shall be called Emmanuel.” But, actually, Isaiah does not say this. The Hebrew word Isaiah uses, almah, means a “young woman,” with no reference to her sexual experience. There is a Hebrew word for virgin (bethulah), but Isaiah did not use it. The Septuagint (abbreviated LXX), a third-century B.C. Greek translation of the Hebrew Scriptures, translates the Hebrew almah (meaning a young woman) with the Greek word parthenos (which does mean virgin). Apparently, Matthew’s access to his own scriptures was not through the original Hebrew, but through this Greek translation. Alternatively, Matthew may have known the scriptures in Hebrew but was using the LXX to accommodate his readers, who were largely Greeks and Greek-speaking Jews of the Diaspora.

In addition to not referring to a “virgin,” Isaiah’s prophecy occurs in a historically specific context, dating to about 733 B.C. Isaiah 7:1 describes the time in which his prophecy occurs:

“In the days of Ahaz the son of Jotham, son of Uzziah, king of Judah, Rezin the king of Syria and Pekah the son of Remaliah the king of Israel came up to Jerusalem to wage war against it, but they could not conquer it.”

After predicting the failure of their threat to Jerusalem, Isaiah challenges Judah’s king Ahaz: “ ‘Ask a sign of the Lord your God …’ ” (Isaiah 7:11). Ahaz refuses and asserts, “ … ‘I will not put the Lord to the test’ ” (Isaiah 7:12). Isaiah then rebukes Ahaz, “ ‘Is it too little for you to weary men, that you weary my God also? Therefore, the Lord himself will give you a sign’ ” (Isaiah 7:13–14).

Then immediately follows the prediction that a young woman will give birth and bear a son named Emmanuel. Isaiah firmly ties the prediction of Emmanuel’s birth to the threatened invasion by saying: “ ‘For before the child knows how to refuse the evil and choose the good, the land before whose two kings you are in dread will be deserted’ ” (Isaiah 7:16).

The point is that Isaiah is simply not talking about what Matthew says Isaiah is talking about, but rather about an event in Isaiah’s own time.

Matthew, however, is determined to relate real or alleged events in the life of Jesus to passages from the Hebrew Bible. Perhaps the most blatant example is Matthew 2:15, where he says that the child Jesus was brought by his parents out of Egypt to fulfill the prophecy “Out of Egypt have I called My son” (quoting Hosea 11:1). Now, any attempt to read this passage in context makes clear that Hosea’s reference is to the Exodus, and to an unfaithful Israel, not (as Matthew asserts) to a faithful Jesus. Those ready to accept Hosea’s ability to predict or to foreshadow a future event in the life of Jesus must reckon with the immediately following verse, which says that “The more I called them, the more they went from me, they kept sacrificing to the Baals, and burning incense to idols” (Hosea 11:2)—hardly something Christians would want to have applied to Jesus. Matthew simply uses the literary prophets of Israel as a wishing well for prediction, or as a supermarket in which he goes shopping for usable quotations, without consideration of the literary or historical context. One intuitively expects that “inerrant” writing will contain fewer errors.

Luke is less prone than Matthew to rely on the Hebrew Bible to provide information about Jesus. 014Luke tells us that he acquired some general information from already written sources and from some “eyewitnesses” (Luke 1:2). But, given the absence of tape recorders or eavesdropping scribes standing in unlikely places, it is difficult to attribute the poetry in chapters 1 and 2 to anyone other than Luke—though the “Magnificat”—Mary’s prayer of thanksgiving to God (Luke 2:46–55)—seems to be a literary echo of Hannah’s prayer of praise to God when she brings her son Samuel to serve God in the Temple at Shiloh (1 Samuel 2:1–10). An appeal to “inspiration” at this point will not do, since Luke himself appeals not to divine dictation but to “many” narratives (presumably written and oral) which he has followed closely and arranged in “an orderly account” (Luke 1:1–4).

“Whom shall we believe?” is the second vexing question scholars must face concerning the virgin birth. The issue is important because we find clear internal disagreement on the matter of the virgin birth within the New Testament itself. In a seldom discussed (or preached on) passage in the New Testament, Paul² warns Timothy not to occupy himself “with myths and endless genealogies which promote speculations rather than the divine training that is in faith” (1 Timothy 1:4). Paul believes that Christian teachers who propagate such stories fail to understand “either what they are saying or the things about which they make assertions” (1 Timothy 1:3–7). If we ask what Paul could possibly be describing as “myths” in close association with “genealogies,” the virgin birth stories immediately come to mind. Only Matthew and Luke contain virgin birth stories and genealogies—in close proximity. Since widespread scholarly consensus dates the authorship of Matthew and Luke to about 85 A.D., about 20 years after the death of Paul (c. 65 A.D.), Paul would not have been familiar with their writing. But he may have been familiar with an already developing tradition concerning Jesus’ virgin birth—and considered it to be both fanciful and harmful to faith!

Moreover, Paul’s written Greek does not seem equivocal when he describes Jesus as “descended from David according to the flesh [kata sarka]” (Romans 1:3). Similarly, both Matthew and Luke trace Jesus’ Davidic ancestry through Joseph (Matthew 1:1–16; Luke 3:23–38), which would, after all, be meaningless if Joseph were not Jesus’ father.³

It seems likely, therefore, that the author of 1 Timothy was familiar with the tradition of the virgin birth developed in Matthew and Luke (though perhaps in circulation earlier than either)—and rejected it! We are left with three choices: (1) reject both 1 Timothy and the birth stories of Matthew and Luke; (2) accept one and reject the other; or (3) accept one literally (Paul’s warning to Timothy against speculation) and accept the other poetically (Matthew and Luke’s virgin birth stories)—as a symbolic but not a factual statement. Since the first two chapters of both Matthew and Luke are filled with poetry, a poetic interpretation of their virgin birth accounts may provide an instructive line of approach.

It is also important to recognize that not only does Paul seem to reject the virgin conception stories, but Mark (the earliest Gospel), John (the latest Gospel), and the earliest Church (in Acts) never mention the idea at all. In addition, there is not in the New Testament a single recorded instance of Jesus calling people to follow him, and qualifying that call with the provision: so long as you believe in my virgin conception. But, more important than belief or disbelief is understanding the meaning of these stories.

What is meant when Jesus is called the “Son of God”? This question is a critical challenge to Christian theologians. The ancient world in which and for which the New Testament was originally written was saturated with Greek culture (the consequence of the conquests of Alexander the Great, plus the inherent superiority and attractiveness of that civilization to most peoples who experienced it). In Greek thought sonship was understood to be primarily a matter of biology, a matter of being from the same substance. Both Luke (who was a gentile) and Matthew (who quotes from the Greek version of the Hebrew Bible) were writing for readers of Greek. The virgin birth stories may be best understood as 015accommodations to this Greek idea that a son is like his father because he is of the same stuff. Jesus, it was reasoned, was God manifest in the flesh because he was, in part, of divine substance. Several centuries later, in 325 A.D., this approach was confirmed in the Credo of the Council of Nicea, which described Jesus as “being of one substance with the Father.”

In Hebrew thought, however, sonship was understood not primarily as a matter of biology, but as a matter of obedience. Indeed, a “stubborn and rebellious son,” not obedient to his parents, could be delivered by them for execution: “Then all the men of the city shall stone him to death with stones, so you shall purge the evil from your midst” (Deuteronomy 21:18–21). Theologically, this meant that Israel’s election as “the sons of the Lord your God” was immediately followed by the injunction “you shall not … (Deuteronomy 14:1). If the people disobey, God may hide his face from his children (Deuteronomy 32:19, 20), sell them into slavery (Isaiah 50:1), or announce to them that “you are not my people, and I am not your God” (Hosea 1:9).

In Jesus’ day Greek thought had invaded and fermented classical Jewish thought. But for Jesus and his audience it seemed clear that a child was the son of a father because he obeyed his father, and a child who did not obey was “no longer worthy to be called [a] son” (Luke 15:18–19). It was because Jesus was obedient that he could be called “son of God,” and he said that “Whoever does the will of God is my brother, and sister, and mother” (Mark 3:35). Thus, while for the Greek “son of God” meant from the same substance, for the Hebrew “son of God” meant primarily the one who obeys God. “If you are left without discipline, in which all have participated, then you are illegitimate children and not sons” (Hebrews 12:8). Jesus was crucified (in part) not because he claimed to be of the same substance as God, but because he claimed a righteousness that “exceeds that of the scribes and Pharisees” (Matthew 5:20), a degree and quality of obedience that set him apart.

The two meanings of “son of God” are a matter of emphasis, and are not mutually exclusive. But the two meanings suggest an important possibility for misinterpretation when a Jewish phrase was used among Greek hearers. When Jesus was called “son of God” by his earliest followers (all of whom were Jews), the reference was to his obedience, not to his origin.

How then are we to understand the virgin conception stories as told in Matthew and Luke? It is possible to approach these stories as historical descriptions, that is, fact which only the Gospel writers knew. According to this view, Luke tells the story from Mary’s perspective, Matthew from the perspective of Joseph. But both agree that before Joseph and Mary were united in marriage, she was “found to be with child of the Holy Spirit” (Matthew 1:18; see also Luke 1:34, 35). This explains why God is in a unique way Jesus’ father. “Therefore the child … will be called holy, the Son of God” (Luke 1:35).

A second (and rather drastic) approach interprets these stories as pious inventions by the early Church to cover up an embarrassing fact—that Jesus was conceived out of wedlock. This, it can be argued, lies behind Joseph’s early resolve to break the engagement (Matthew 1:19–20). Does not the taunt of Jesus’ enemies—“We were not born of fornication” (John 8:41)—imply the circulation of such a scandal? It is possible to argue (particularly in today’s world) that Jesus’ biological father—whether Joseph, a Roman soldier or someone else—is a matter of little consequence. Faith in Jesus depends upon the intrinsic and demonstrated worth of Jesus, not upon speculations about his conception.

A third possible way to understand the virgin birth depends upon the search for meaning in language. It holds that literal interpretations are not always the intended meaning, and that the meaning of the original author must be discerned and appreciated from the context. For example, when the Scottish poet Robert Burns wrote that his love was “like a red, red rose,” he did not 029mean that she had thorns growing out of her neck; and when Jesus said “I am the door” (John 10:9), he did not mean he had hinges attached to his shoulders.

One must get the point. Similarly, it is possible to suppose that Jesus was the child of a normal union between Joseph and Mary, as John 6:42 suggests when relating the question asked by the Jews: “ ‘Is not this Jesus, the son of Joseph, whose father and mother we know?’ ” May it be that the virgin conception stories are poetic—symbols which we should understand and appreciate, not biology reports we should believe? Indeed, to take some passages literally may be to miss the point.

So, what is the point? No one, I believe, is in a position to be dogmatic about this. But here is a suggestion.

In the biblical Book of Ruth it is said:

“So Boaz took Ruth and she became his wife; and when he went in to her, and the Lord gave her conception, and she bore a son” (Ruth 4:13).

From this it is understood that a man, a woman and God are operative in every conception. Emphasis upon the special role of God can be found in the stories of the conception and birth of Isaac by Sarah when she was 90 years old and her husband, Abraham, 100 (Genesis 17, 18, 21), of Samuel by the childless Hannah, who then dedicated her son to God’s service in the temple at Shiloh (1 Samuel 1–2), and of John by Elizabeth, whose husband, Zacharias, prayed to God for the child and became mute until John was born and named (Luke 1). If the story about the birth of Jesus is understood as continuous with this tradition, then the point of the story was not that sex is evil (sinful or unclean) and the appearance of a righteous man requires a sinless conception and birth, but rather that humans are unable to redeem themselves and that the appearance of a deliverer requires a special act of God. Humans cannot alone solve their problems. There are solutions, but (as with the children born to Sarah, Hannah and Elizabeth) the solutions come to human beings with God’s assistance rather than simply as an expected outcome from their biological nature.

Perhaps Matthew and Luke intended only to highlight the role of God. Certainly the mood and literary form of the first two chapters of Matthew and Luke suggest poetry because they are considerably filled with it. Perhaps the virgin conception stories are poetic symbols—expressing the experience of the early Church with the holiness, quality, integrity of Jesus. Not to be taken literally (as biology reports), they are to be taken seriously—as poetic expressions of the impression that Jesus made upon some of his contemporaries. Perhaps to say, with the (so-called) Apostles’ Creed,^c that Jesus was “conceived by the Holy Spirit, born of the Virgin Mary,” is to stand in awe before a mystery of trust and allegiance that seemingly cannot be explained in everyday, literal language.

Surely it is possible to believe in the virgin birth of Jesus, and not be a disciple. Moslems do just that.⁴ But surely it is also possible to be a disciple who takes the virgin birth seriously, but not literally.

010 Three clear arguments support belief in the virgin birth1 of Jesus. The first is textual. Both Matthew and Luke state clearly that Jesus was conceived by the Holy Spirit, without the aid of a human father: Matthew Luke “Now the birth of Jesus Christ took place in this way. When his mother Mary had been betrothed to Joseph, before they came together, she was found to be with child of the Holy Spirit” (1:18 RSV). “ ‘And behold, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you shall call his mane Jesus.’ … “And […]