The First Christmas

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Nor do we know what year Jesus was born. Most likely it was between 7 and 4 B.C.E.^a My students, expecting that Jesus would have been born in the year 0, find this surprising. Why the discrepancy? The sixth-century monk Dionysius Exiguus (whose name means “Denny the Dwarf”), who calculated the calendar we now use, made the best determination he could with the sources he had, but was off by a few years.

Nor do we learn much about what happened from the familiar stories of the birth of Jesus in Matthew and Luke. To me, as to many Bible scholars, the birth stories seem to be symbolic narratives and not historical reports.¹

To put that boldly, I am one of those Christians who does not believe in the virgin birth, nor in the star of Bethlehem, nor in the journey of the wisemen, nor in the shepherds coming to the manger, as facts of history. Yet I find these stories to be both powerful and truthful, and I have no difficulty preaching sermons on them.

The reasons for taking a nonhistorical approach to these stories have often been cited.² My purpose is not to repeat those reasons, but to speak about the symbolic meanings of these texts. Indeed, it seems to me that they have these meanings even if one also takes them historically.

Some themes are particular to each Gospel. Matthew stresses Jesus’ kingship: Jesus is born “king of the Jews,” and his genealogy is traced through the kings of Israel. His birth is perceived as a threat by King Herod, the ruler of this world, who seeks to destroy him. There are two kingships, two rival lordships, one the way of life and the other the way of death.

Luke emphasizes the radical sociopolitical edge of Jesus’ mission and message. His ancestry is traced through the prophets of Israel. Jesus is born in a stable, among the homeless, and the news of his birth comes first to social outcasts (the shepherds). Consistent with this is the central role given to Mary and Elizabeth, for women were among the marginalized. The image of Jesus as a social prophet active among the oppressed runs throughout Luke.³

Matthew and Luke do share some themes, however. For example, they both use passages from the Hebrew Bible, although in different ways. With a repetitious formula, Matthew cites the fulfillment of prophecy;⁴ more artistically, Luke echoes language and themes from the Hebrew Bible in the hymns of praise that burst forth from his characters (1:46–55, 67–79, 2:29–32). Their common theme: Jesus is the fulfillment of the deepest human yearnings expressed in the scriptures of ancient Israel.

Both also speak of Jesus being conceived by the Spirit. In so doing, they are not concerned with the genetic makeup of Jesus, nor with exempting him from original sin.⁵ Rather, both are making a claim that what happened in and through Jesus is not simply “of the flesh,” but “of the Spirit.”

Finally, both Matthew and Luke make use of the ancient theme of light coming into the darkness. Matthew has the story of the wisemen of the Gentiles following the star; the birth of Jesus is light to the nations, drawing the Gentiles to the true king. Luke tells of the glory of the Lord shining upon the shepherds as they watched their flocks by night.

For me, these themes, and not the facts surrounding Jesus’ conception, carry the power and truth of the Christmas stories. I am reminded of the Native American elder who would begin telling his tribe’s story of creation by saying, “Now I don’t know whether it happened this way or not, but I know this story is true.”

It was thus a sound instinct that led the church in the fourth century to choose December 25 as the birthdate of Jesus. The parallel with the winter solstice, when the darkness is greatest and the light begins to return, is striking. For Christians, Christ is the light in the darkness. In the words of John’s Gospel, “The true light that enlightens every person was coming into the world; the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it” (John 1:9, 5).

We do not know much about the first Christmas. We do not know what day of the year Jesus was born. Dating it to December 25 (or even to winter) is found neither in the Bible nor in early Christian tradition, but goes back to the church in Rome in the fourth century. Nor do we know what year Jesus was born. Most likely it was between 7 and 4 B.C.E.a My students, expecting that Jesus would have been born in the year 0, find this surprising. Why the discrepancy? The sixth-century monk Dionysius Exiguus (whose name means “Denny […]

Footnotes

B.C.E. (Before the Common Era), used by this author, is the alternate designation corresponding to B.C. often used in scholarly literature.

Endnotes

See BR articles: Kenneth R.R. Gros Louis, “Different Ways of Looking at the Birth of Jesus,” BR 01:01; J. Edward Barrett, “Can Scholars Take the Virgin Birth Seriously?” BR 04:05; and James E. Crouch, “How Early Christians Viewed the Birth of Jesus,” BR 04:05. The most comprehensive recent work in English is Raymond Brown, The Birth of the Messiah (Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1977); see also his article “Infancy Narratives” in The Anchor Bible Dictionary, ed. David Noel Freedman (New York: Doubleday, 1992), vol. 3, pp. 410–415. See also John Meier, A Marginal Jew: Rethinking the Historical Jesus (New York: Doubleday, 1991), pp. 208–252; and, for the sociopolitical history behind the narratives, Richard Horsely, The Liberation of Christmas: The Infancy Narratives in Social Context (New York: Crossroad, 1989). Brown and Meier leave the historical question unresolved, arguing that the historicity of the virginal conception is beyond the scope of historical-critical study. See Meier, A Marginal Jew, p. 222: “Taken by itself, historical-critical research simply does not have the sources and tools available to reach a final decision on the historicity of the virginal conception.”

The reasons include the following: The stories of Jesus’ birth are found only in two relatively late sources, Matthew and Luke, both written near the end of the first century. Jesus’ birth is not mentioned in earlier sources (Mark and the letters of Paul), nor anywhere else in the New Testament. Minimally, one may infer that it was not of central importance to the early Church. Moreover, in Matthew and Luke, the stories are quite different; though some of the differences can be reconciled, not all can. Yet each narrative is strikingly harmonious with the Gospel of which it is a part, suggesting that each has been composed as a prologue. Finally, according to Mark, the family of Jesus seems not to have known about the virginal conception and his being the “Son of God” from birth. See Mark 3:21–35 and the comment on it in Meier, A Marginal Jew, p. 221: “Jesus’ brothers did not believe in him during the public ministry—which hardly seems likely if they had known about his virginal conception.” It should be noted that the passage in Mark also includes his mother.

See, for example, the “inaugural address” of Jesus in Luke 4:18–19. See also Helmut Koester’s column, “Luke’s Holy Land and Jesus’ Company,” BR 08:03, which emphasizes this aspect of Luke.

Matthew uses a variation of “this took place to fulfill what was spoken by the prophet” five times in the birth story: 1:23, 2:5–6, 2:15, 2:17–18 and 2:23. Often the claimed fulfillment ignores the original meaning of the text; for example, Matthew 2:15 cites Hosea 11:1, which clearly refers to the Exodus.

Though this is not part of the church’s “official” theology, some Christians tie the “sinlessness” of Jesus to the virgin birth—if he was not born of a virgin, how could he be without sin? For me, such an argument takes original sin, sinlessness and virgin birth too literally, as if we are dealing with biology.

I am a Christian who does not believe in the virgin birth, nor in the star of Bethlehem, nor in the journey of the wisemen.

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Endnotes

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