Introduction
The chronological problems in the two stories of Jesus’ infancy in the Gospels of Matthew and Luke are well-known to scholars.
Matthew
Luke
Jesus born before the death of Herod I in 4 BCE
Jesus born during or after the census of the newly-annexed Iudaea Province in 6 CE
Joseph and Mary live in Bethlehem
Joseph and Mary live in Nazareth, but travel to Bethlehem because of the census
The family remains in Bethlehem for (at most) two years, flees to Egypt for an unknown amount of time, then moves to Nazareth to stay out of reach of Herod’s son Archelaus
The family visits the Jerusalem temple for Jesus’ circumcision when he is eight days old, immediately returning to their existing home in Nazareth
From a historian’s perspective, this conflicting information casts serious doubt on the historicity of either infancy narrative. My focus here, though, is not Luke’s story, but Matthew’s.
The story told in Matt 1–2 is straightforward. Matt 1.1–17 provides Jesus’ genealogy. Matt 1.18–25 tells how Joseph learned of Mary’s virgin conception, ending with the brief statement of Jesus’ birth. Matt 2.1–12 tells the story of the Magi who inform Herod of Jesus’ birth and bring the child gifts. Matt 2.13–18 tells how Herod attempted to have Jesus killed, with the family fleeing to Egypt. Matt 2.19–23 concludes the infancy narrative with the family leaving Egypt after Herod’s death, but settling in Nazareth instead of Bethlehem.
On a surface-level reading, Matthew’s account of the birth and infancy of Jesus is not that problematic. This has led some scholars to boldly defend the ‘historical probability’ of Matt 1–2, ‘assum[ing its] genuine historical reminiscence’.
This does not mean Matthew leaves us without questions.
Jesus’ Genealogy
The genealogy given in Matthew differs from the one in Luke 3 at several key points, which comes with its own set of problems. The two do not even agree on who Joseph’s father was. A traditional explanation for this contradiction among Christian interpreters is that one of the two genealogies follows Jesus’ lineage through Joseph, the other through Mary. However, both specifically state they are tracing the ancestry through Joseph (Matt 1.16; Luke 3.23). An alternate explanation is that Joseph was the son of a Levirate marriage. Here, his ‘biological’ father would not be his ‘legal’ father, so the two genealogies happen to diverge on this point. Neither Gospel actually says any of this. (And, of course, neither of them deal with the obvious problem that Joseph’s genealogy can’t also be Jesus’ genealogy, since Jesus was born of a virgin.
Setting aside Luke’s version of the genealogy, we still have some puzzles in the one from Matthew. One is the threefold division the author draws our attention to, which he lists this way:
01 Abraham (
02 Isaak (
03 Iakōb (
04 Ioudas (
05 Phares (
06 Hesrōm (
07 Aram (
08 Aminadab (
09 Nahassōn (
10 Salmōn (
11 Boes (
12 Iōbēd (
13 Iessai (
14
15 Dauid (
16 Solomōn (
17 Roboam (
18 Abia (
19 Asaph (
20 Iōsaphat (
21 Iōram (
22 Ozias (
23 Iōatham (
24 Achaz (
25 Hezekias (
26 Manasses (
27 Amōs (
28 Iōsias (
29 Iechonias (
30 Salathiēl (
31 Zorobabel (
32 Abioud (
33 Eliakim (
34 Azōr (
35 Sadōk (
36 Achim (
37 Elioud (
38 Eleazar (
39 Matthan (
40 Iakōb (
41 Iōsēph (
42 Iēsous (
Matthew typically uses the existing Greek (LXX) versions of the Hebrew scriptures where his source material doesn’t already provide a scriptural quotation,
Matthew’s three sets of fourteen generations come up short in the first set. Oddly, this problem wouldn’t exist if the author had not selectively excluded names from his genealogy. Between generations 21 (Joram) and 22 (Uzziah, aka Azariah) our author skipped three generations (Ahaziah, Joash, Amaziah). Between 28 (Josiah) and 29 (Jeconiah, aka Jehoiachin) the author skipped one generation (Jehoiakim, aka Eliakim). It is puzzling that he could easily have solved the imbalance of having only thirteen generations in the first set if he had simply kept any one of those four generations he omitted. Instead, his desire to force the genealogy into three sets of fourteen draws our attention to his list coming up short.
Two genealogical traditions in the Bible diverge after Jeconiah. First Chronicles identifies Zerubbabel’s father as Jeconiah’s son Pedaiah, then traces nine more generations, none of which match Matthew. Instead, Matthew follows the tradition found in Hebrew Ezra, Nehemiah, Haggai, and Greek Ezra, that Zerubbabel’s father was Jeconiah’s son Shealtiel. From there, between Zerubbabel (31) and Joseph (41), our author’s version of the genealogy is not corroborated by any known source. Where did he get the names of Zerubbabel’s descendants?
Abioud (
From Abihu or Abihud, a son of the first high priest Aaron (LXX Exo 6.23).
Eliakim (
The name (
Azōr (
Possibly from the name Azzur (
Sadōk (
From Zadok (
Achim (
Probably abbreviated from Achimaaz (
Elioud (
Possibly from Elihu or Elihud (
Eleazar (
The name of a son and successor to the first high priest Aaron, brother of Moses (Num 20.25–26).
Matthan (
The same as Mattan (
Iakōb (
Grandson of Abraham and son of Isaac, and father of the twelve tribes of Israel.
Iōsēph (
One of the twelve sons of Jacob, who had prophetic dreams (Gen 37.5ff).
None of them match Zerubbabel’s lineage in Chronicles, but several of the names are connected to Israel’s priesthood.
While Luke 3’s version of the genealogy would take too much space here, it suffers from similar problems: omitted generations, invented generations, and duplicated generations. Between these problems, and that the two genealogies contradict between David and Shealtiel, and between Zerubbabel and Joseph, it is doubtful either one represents Jesus’ actual ancestry.
The prevailing interpretative theory for how the author of Matthew constructed this genealogy is based on his interest in Jesus as the ‘son of David’, a messianic title going back a century or two before Jesus.
Given that Matthew was written in Greek, it could be asked whether the author expected his readers to recognize this gematria.
Immanuel, Son of the Virgin
After the genealogy, Matthew shifts into the actual narrative of Jesus’ conception, birth, and infancy. Joseph and Mary are living in Bethlehem — unlike in Luke, the two do not travel or move to the city, they are already there — betrothed, when they learn Mary is suddenly pregnant. Betrothal was a step higher than being ‘engaged’ in modern Western society; they were legally bound to one another, but the wedding had not taken place and they were not living together yet. This meant any infidelity would be met with just as strict punishment as if the two were married: death by stoning. The narrator notes Joseph was ‘a just man’ because he did not seek Mary’s humiliation; he is merciful, perhaps in anticipation of Jesus’ later teaching. However, stoning was not commonly practiced at the time anyway.
This leads to the first of Matthew’s scriptural quotations, introduced with his normal formula
Isaiah 7.14
‘Look, the virgin has conceived and shall bear a son, and they shall call him Immanuel.’
Matthew’s questionable use of this verse is well-known. Isa 7 concerns the Judean king Ahaz, who was concerned for the survival of his kingdom under the impending threat of his neighbors, Israel and Syria (Isa 7.1–9). Isaiah informs Ahaz that a ‘young woman’ (ʿalmāh) has conceived and will give birth to a son, who will be given the prophetic name ‘God-is-with-us’ (7.10–14). Before this son is old enough to understand morality or eat solid food, Assyria will have conquered Israel and Syria, ending their threat to Judah (7.15–19). Through this action, Judah will know that God is with the kingdom (7.20–8.10). Put simply, Ahaz’s problem will be resolved within just a few years, and the development of a newborn into a toddler able to recognize moral decisions will be the deadline. In context, this prophecy has nothing to do with the Messiah, nor a future more than seven centuries away.
A key point of contention is that within Isaiah’s prophecy, the ‘young woman’ is not a virgin: she has already conceived, and the parallelism with Isa 8.3–4 strongly implies that the woman is Isaiah’s own wife, and the child is Isaiah’s own son. While the Greek word
While we don’t know the precise relationship between Matthew and Luke, the great differences between their infancy narratives show neither is likely to be dependent on the other here. If we remove all the contradictory information in these narratives, they share just a few common items, one of them being that Mary conceived Jesus while she was a virgin. This suggests the author of Matthew did not invent this detail on his own, as sometimes suggested by overly-critical skeptics. The virgin birth came from an existing tradition which the author shaped into Matt 1.18–2.23. However, because the quotation of LXX Isa 7.14 came from Matthew and not his source,
Matthew does make one change to his use of LXX Isa 7.14, changing the verb
The author’s use of Isa 7.14 here forms an inclusio with the end of his gospel.
A New Moses
One of Matthew’s more unique themes is his identification of Jesus as a ‘new Israel’, partially seen in his use of ‘new exodus’ typology. The latter concept is ancient, going at least as far back as Deutero-Isaiah, which subtly compares the return of the Judeans from exile in Babylon to their escape from slavery in Egypt. Some theories also see parallels between the ‘suffering servant’ and Moses. The way the ‘new Israel’ manifests in Matthew is primarily found in the way he arranges his material to mirror highlights from the Torah:
- A man named Joseph has a prophetic dream (Gen 37.5ff)
- An evil king secures his power by killing male infants (Exo 1.15–22)
- One son escapes the slaughter (Exo 2.1–10)
- God calls his son out of Egypt (Exo 4.19–23)
- The chosen son reveals God’s law on a mountain (Exo 20–24)
- Jesus’ teachings are arranged into five main discourses (Gen, Exo, Lev, Num, Deut)
- Jesus’ final public discourse is to proclaim God’s wrath over Israel and their holy place (Deut 28–30)
These purposeful similarities between the story of Jesus and Moses run deeper than these broad strokes.
Matthew 2.19–20
Exodus 4.19
Go into the land of Israel, for those who sought your child’s life have died
Proceed, go forth into Egypt, for all those who sought your life have died
In the eighth century BCE, the Assyrian king Sargon II spread propaganda elevating his namesake, Sargon of Akkad, who ruled fifteen centuries before him. The story being told was that Sargon had been rescued from death in his infancy:
My mother, the high priestess, conceived me, in secret she bore me. She set me in a basket of rushes, with bitumen she sealed my lid. She cast me into the river which rose not over me.21
The story of Moses’ survival in Exo 2 was based directly on the legend of Sargon of Akkad,
One of those sacred-scribes, who are very wise in foretelling future events truly, told the king, that about this time there would a child be born to the Israelites, who, if he were reared, would bring the Egyptian dominion low, and would raise the Israelites23
In Josephus’ story the pharoah’s adviser is called a ‘sacred-scribe’ (
A common feature in legendary birth narratives was fear or awe of the child by their family. A story of Noah’s infancy has him born glowing, terrifying his father Lamech.
Moses is also made a ‘king’ in parabiblical legend, adding one more point of commonality between him and Jesus.
The Magi
Alongside the priests and scribes, Matt 2 depicts a group of men called
The common translation of ‘wise men’ is a poor choice,
Where Josephus says that the pharaoh was advised by a ‘sacred scribe’, the Targum tells the story differently.
And the pharaoh told that he, being asleep, had seen in his dream, and, behold, all the land of Egypt was placed in one scale of a balance, and a lamb, the young of a sheep, was ill the other scale; and the scale with the lamb in it overweighed. Forthwith he sent and called all the magicians of Egypt, and imparted to them his dream. Immediately Jannes and Jambres, the chief of the magicians, opened their mouth and answered the pharaoh, ‘A certain child is about to be born in the congregation of Israel, by whose hand will be destruction to all the land of Egypt.’33
The pharaoh’s advisers are ‘magicians’, named as Jannes and Jambres (cf. 2 Tim 3.8). While the pair’s antagonistic role in the narrative is not identical with the helpful
The Greek word
Though there are theories that Matthew intends to disparage the
Matt 2.1 mentions that the
Isaiah 60.6
A multitude of camels shall cover you, the young camels of Midian and Ephah; all those from Sheba shall come. They shall bring gold and frankincense, and shall proclaim the praise of Yhwh.
Even if the connection with this verse is correct — and possibly also Psa 72.10–15
Within the context of Matt 1–2, a reasonable translation choice for
At most we can determine that the author of Matthew intended the
the Jewish leaders reject their Messiah, [but] the Gentiles from outside the land of Israel are anxious to greet him46
As a narrative device, the
The Star
The astrologers, of course, follow the iconic Star of Bethlehem. There have been many attempts to find the star in astronomical events plausibly observable across Southwest Asia in the late first-century BCE. The three most common suggestions are that it was a supernova, a comet, or a planetary alignment.
Matthew implies Jesus was about two or three years old when Herod I died in 4 BCE. This places his birth around 7–6 BCE. In these years there was a conjunction of Jupiter and Saturn (regarded as ‘wandering stars’ at the time), which was rife for symbolic application because of Jupiter’s status for royalty.
Celestial events like eclipses, comets, or planetary conjunctions were universally interpreted as omens of what was unfolding on the earth, good or bad. Stars in particular were generally interpreted favorably.
Yet another conjunction of these two planets happened in 134 CE, during the Third Judean-Roman War.
A passage in the Jerusalem Talmud connects Kokhba’s new name to a prophecy from Balaam, in the Book of Numbers. In fact, late traditions about Balaam identified him as a
Numbers 24.17
‘I see him, but not now; I behold him, but not near—a star shall come out of Jacob, and a sceptre shall rise out of Israel; it shall crush the borderlands of Moab, and the territory of all the Sethites.’
Even before the Bar Kokhba Revolt, this ‘star’ prophecy had a long-running association with messianic thought in Second Temple Judaism,
A Targum explicitly interprets it messianically, tying it to eschatological prophecies in Ezek 37–39 about the Davidic king and a final battle with ‘Gog’.
I shall see him, but not now; I shall behold him, but it is not near. When the mighty king of Jacob’s house shall reign, and the Messiah, the power-scepter of Israel, be anointed, he will slay the princes of the Moabites, and bring to nothing all the children of Seth, the armies of Gog who will do battle against Israel and all their carcasses shall fall before him.61
As seen with Alexander Jannaeus and Bar Kokhba, the ‘star’ prophecy could be interpreted quite literally during an era when the movements of lights in the sky were fully believed to reflect happenings on the earth. Within this conceptual framework, it is reasonable to identify the ‘Star of Bethlehem’ with the 7–6 BCE conjunction of Jupiter and Saturn, retrospectively interpreted by Jesus’ followers as a sign he was the Messiah after they determined he was born in that time period. Herod’s violent response in the infancy narrative also works within this context, probably based on his elimination of those he thought might challenge his throne. This included two of his own sons in 7 BCE, and a third son in 4 BCE.
There is one nagging problem, however. The Star of Bethlehem moves, in a completely impossible way. It first leads the astrologers westward from their home country to Jerusalem in Judah, then south from Jerusalem to Bethlehem. It even pinpoints the specific house Jesus’ family lives in.
Matthew 2.9–11
they set out; and there, ahead of them, went the star that they had seen at its rising, until it stopped over the place where the child was. When they saw that the star had stopped, they were overwhelmed with joy. On entering the house, they saw the child with Mary his mother
The Jupiter-Saturn conjunction may have contributed to the story’s setting,
Matthew’s Source
Between the details and themes that emerge in Matt 1–2, and the literary independence from Luke 1–2, scholars think we can outline a narrative tradition that stands behind Matthew’s infancy story. The genealogy in 1.1–17 is attributed to Matthew’s author, but 1.18–2.23 are isolated as adapting an existing source the author had available.
Some scholars think the block with the astrologers (2.1–12) came from a source separate from the rest of the infancy narrative (1.18–25 and 2.13–21),
As mentioned, Matthew tends to quote the LXX where his source does not already provide a scriptural quotation. There are five quotations in Matt 1–2.
Matt 1.22–23 quotes LXX Isa 7.14, with one small purposeful modification, explained above.
The citation of Mic 5.2 in Matt 2.5–6 does not conform to the LXX, nor the Hebrew, though the final clause (‘who is to shepherd my people Israel’) is lifted verbatim from LXX 2 Sam 5.2.
Matt 2.23 contains the final quotation, ‘He shall be called a Nazorean’. This quote doesn’t exist anywhere in the Hebrew Bible, and scholars struggle to explain how Matthew came by it. If the author had a specific text in mind, it would need to be LXX
Another issue with Matt 2.22–23 is the passage contains text nearly identical to parts of 4.12–14.
Matthew 2.22–23
Matthew 4.12–14
he withdrew into the district of Galilee
he withdrew into Galilee
arriving he dwelled in a town called Nazareth
arriving he dwelled in Capernaum
so as to fulfill what was spoken through the prophets
in order to fulfill what was spoken through Isaiah the prophet
The latter passage is Matthew’s own text, so for the former to be so similar is a solid indication the two verses come from the author and not his source. Matthew evidently uses the word ‘Nazorean’ (
While 1.22–23 and 2.22–23 can be removed without harm to the narrative,
The common features in Matt 1–2 and Luke 1–2 are separated by so much other material, and the intertextuality between the two is so ‘minimal’,
Where did the source come by this supernatural origin for Jesus? We don’t have any clear answer to this, but the most likely inspiration would be the birth narratives in Genesis and Judges. Philo of Alexandria talks about the patriarch’s wives as virgins, but this is more an idealization of their virtue purifying them than it is a literal claim.
Conclusion
It is difficult to reconcile the phenomenal story in Matt 1–2 with Jesus’ depiction in Matthew’s other, primary source, the Gospel of Mark. In this earlier book, Jesus’ family show no awareness that he has been specially chosen by God, even saying he was ‘out of his mind’ when he became a public figure (Mark 3.19b–21). Jesus in turn insists that his spiritual family (‘whoever does the will of God’) is more important to him than his biological family (Mark 3.31–35).
In parallel, the Gospel of Luke contains internal contradictions regarding Jesus’ mother Mary. Its infancy narrative has angels and prophetic announcements exalting Mary beyond all other women (Luke 1.28, 42), but when someone tries expressing the same idea to Jesus (‘Blessed is the womb that bore you’), he rejects the notion (‘Instead, blessed are those who hear the word of God and obey it’, Luke 11.27–28).
The story that both Joseph and Mary were directly told that Mary had been specially chosen and blessed by God to give birth to Israel’s ultimate savior can’t be reconciled with these other episodes, where Jesus’ family doesn’t know his importance and he consistently distances himself from his mother and siblings.
Because Matt 2’s story of Jesus’ infancy borrowed so heavily from folklore embellishing Moses’ infancy story (albeit indirectly),
When did this oral tradition emerge? If Matthew was written around 90 CE,
The idea of Jesus being born of a virgin is completely unknown in Paul’s letters. He doesn’t so much as hint at it, even when it would serve his argument. For example, an opportune moment to mention it would be Rom 1.3–4, written circa 58–60 CE. He was well-traveled, and had a highly developed Christology; it would be surprising if the virgin birth concept was contemporary to Paul and yet he never mentioned it. We might infer the concept either didn’t exist yet, or was so new that Paul hadn’t picked it up. It is completely absent from the rest of the New Testament, as well as contemporary non-canonical Christian texts, from the first and early second centuries CE. While 1 Peter probably used Matthew,
The information we have available suggests the core ‘virgin birth’ idea emerged as an oral tradition in the 60s or early 70s CE. Sometime in the 70s or early 80s one form of this tradition had evolved under heavy influence of legends about Moses. The role of the astrologers was perhaps developed in conscious response to Tiridates’ journey to Rome. Matthew’s author took this oral tradition in the late 80s CE and wrote it in his own style, adding a few extra details to polish it off and fit it into the narrative he received from the Gospel of Mark.
Footnotes
Introduction
Despite its overall brevity, Matthew’s infancy narrative is packed with cultural, historical, and mythological allusions which enrich the story’s meaning. Yet, most of this is entirely lost on even seasoned students of the Bible. The one point of contention that has somewhat made its way into the general public’s awareness is Matthew’s misuse of a prophecy in Isaiah.
Isaiah 7.14
‘Look, the virgin has conceived and shall bear a son, and they shall call him Immanuel.’
Per Matthew, the ‘son’ is Jesus, born to the ‘virgin’ Mary, an act predicted centuries in advance. But Isaiah was addressing a contemporary crisis, in which the birth of a particular ‘son’ would function as a sign that the crisis would soon be resolved. Matthew completely ignores this context. Worse still is the translation choice of ‘virgin’. Matthew quoted from the existing Greek translation of Isaiah, which used the word
Matthew’s author has isolated this sentence from its place in Isaiah, allowing him to shape the reader’s thoughts with his prior narrative. When they arrive at his citation of LXX Isa 7.14, they have been led to infer that
While it is certain that Isaiah was not talking about Jesus—the prophet was most likely referring to the birth of his own son, described with nearly identical language in the very next chapter—the above criticism of Matthew’s misinterpretation of the prophecy, common as it has become, may itself rest on a misinterpretation of Matthew’s infancy narrative at large, and hence also what he intends by citing LXX Isa 7.14. I was challenged by an acquiantance, what if Matthew did not intend for
Scandalous Women in Jesus’ Ancestry
Matthew’s gospel begins with a genealogy for Jesus. While this list provides Jesus’ lineage through his male ancestors all the way back to Abraham, it has long been noted the author draws attention to four women: Tamar, Rahab, Ruth, and Bathsheba.
When the patriarch Judah disrespected his daughter-in-law Tamar by failing to uphold the levirate marriage custom, she disguised herself as a prostitute to seduce Judah himself and conceived twins as a result. When the post-exodus Israelites attacked the city of Jericho, they were assisted by one of the city’s prostitutes, Rahab, who then married into Israelite society. In the days before Israel was ruled by kings, the Moabite widow Ruth traveled to Israel, where she seduced the landowner Boaz. Lastly, David had an affair with Bathsheba (‘the wife of Uriah’), which eventually led to the birth of Solomon.
All four women were known in the Hebrew Bible, or in post-biblical interpretation, for some manner of sexual scandal.
The common theological interpretation is that Matthew cited these women to demonstrate a broad interest in the fair treatment of women within the Christian community. He could point to them as examples of women who positively contributed to God’s plan (i.e. the lineage of the Messiah). Likewise, in an apologetics sense, Matthew is also interpreted as highlighting specifically scandalous women to justify Mary against false accusations that Jesus was the result of her committing adultery: no one may criticize Mary’s virginal pregnancy as a cover-up for a hidden sexual sin, because God made sure women guilty of sexual sins were part of the Messiah’s ancestry. This would be a sort of lesser-to-greater argument.
Merely invoking the four women by name was sufficient enough for an attentive reader to recognize what pattern connected them, and so that the pattern extended to the next woman to be named: Mary. Instead of an unnecessarily convoluted interpretation in which Matthew categorizes Mary alongside these scandalous women as a defense for a sin for which Mary was not even guilty, perhaps Matthew was acting on the much simpler, more obvious reason: that Mary’s pregnancy was legitimately the result of a sexual scandal. That Matthew does not bother with an account of such a scandal is irrelevant, just as he does not weigh down the genealogy to describe the sordid details of any of the women.
A Son from the Holy Spirit
Having firmly implicated Mary as belonging to the same category as the other four women in the genealogy, Matthew transitions from lineage to narrative. Mary, it turns out, was betrothed to a man named Joseph. He learns that she is pregnant, despite that they have not had sex. Because he valued mercy as an element of justice, he intended to divorce her privately, to avoid drawing attention to her infidelity and putting her in harm’s way. However, as far as God is concerned, Joseph would be making a mistake. God sends an angel to speak to Joseph in a dream, informing him that Mary will give birth to a savior for Israel. Both the narration and the angel’s speech to Joseph identify Jesus as divine in origin.
Matthew 1.18
Matthew 1.20
she was found to be with child from the holy spirit.
‘the child conceived in her is from the holy spirit.’
Giving credit to God for the conception or birth of a child was not unusual, nor was it mutually exclusive to that child being conceived through natural means.
Genesis 4.1
Now the man knew his wife Eve, and she conceived and bore Cain, saying, ‘I have got a man from Yhwh.’
Genesis 17.15
God said to Abraham, ‘As for Sarai your wife, you shall not call her Sarai, but Sarah shall be her name. I will bless her, and moreover I will give you a son by her.’
2 Samuel 7.14
‘I [Yhwh] will be a father to him [Solomon], and he shall be a son to me. When he commits iniquity, I will punish him with a rod such as men use, with blows inflicted by the sons of men.’
This brings us to a statement found in a midrash on Genesis’ story of Judah and Tamar, one of the sexual scandals already mentioned.
Genesis 38.26
Testament of Judah 12.4–8
Then Judah acknowledged them and said, ‘She is more in the right than I, since I did not give her to my son Shelah.’ And he did not lie with her again.
So I had intercourse with her and she conceived. Not understanding what I had done, it was my wish to kill her. But she sent me secretly the pledges and utterly humiliated me. I summoned her and heard the words spoken in a mystery, when I was drunk and sleeping with her. So I could not kill her, because it was from the Lord. … But I did not go near her again
In this retelling of the story, Judah credits the scandal itself to God. It was common for reimagined versions of older tales to have a more explicitly deterministic theology embedded within them, anachronistically making characters aware of divine purposes centuries in advance. Judah inexplicably states that his sexual scandal came ‘from’ God, because this version of Judah was written by an author with a later, more developed theology about Israel’s twelve tribes and their respective roles over history.
Another version of the story transfers this statement from Judah to a revelation from the bat qol.
Targum Jerusalem 38.26
And Judah recognized the three witnesses, and rose to his feet, and said, ‘I implore you, my brothers, and you men of the house of my fathers, to hear me. With the measure that a man measures, so shall it be measured to him, whether good measure or evil, and every man who confesses his works is blessed. Because I took the coat of Joseph my brother and dipped it into the blood of a goat, and brought it before the feet of my father and said to him, “Know now whether this is your son’s coat or not,” the measure is according to the measure, and the rule to the rule. It is better for me to blush in this world than to blush in the world to come, better to burn with a fire that goes out, than to burn in the fire-devouring fire. Let Tamar my daughter-in-law be spared. She has not conceived a child by fornication, but because I did not give to her Shelah my son.’ The bat qol came forth from heaven and said, ‘Both of you are acquitted in the judgment. The thing was from the Lord.’ And he added not to know her.
No longer do we have a mere human peeking behind the curtain to glimpse God’s plan. Rather, divine authority itself reveals directly that God ordained the sexual scandal. This bat qol (literally ‘daughter of voice’, i.e. a small voice) was identified as a divine herald speaking on behalf of God, and was essentially synonymous with the ‘holy spirit’, the semi-personified activity or presence of God within creation.
Keritot 5b.24–25
Sifra, Shemini, Mekhilta DeMiluim II.37
And with regard to this matter Moses, our teacher, was concerned, thinking, ‘Perhaps, God forbid, I misused the anointing oil by pouring too much, which resulted in these two additional drops.’ The bat qol emerged and said, ‘It is like the precious oil upon the head, descending upon the beard; the beard of Aaron, that descends upon the collar of his garments, like the dew of the Hermon that comes down upon the mountains of Zion.’ This comparison serves to teach: just as the Hermon’s dew is not subject to misuse of consecrated property, as it is not consecrated but can be used by all, so too, the anointing oil that descends upon Aaron’s beard is not subject to misuse of consecrated property.
When Moses spilled the anointment oil on Aaron’s head, he recoiled and fell backwards, saying, ‘Woe unto me for defiling the anointment oil!’ He feared that too much of it had been spilled and that he may have derived benefit from it. Whereupon, he was reassured by the holy spirit, ‘Behold, how good and how pleasant is the dwelling of brothers together, as the precious oil upon the head, running down upon the beard, the beard of Aaron, running down over his garments, as the dew of Hermon running down upon the hills of Zion.’ Just as the dew is not defiled, the oil of anointment is not defiled.
The role of the bat qol in Targum Jerusalem’s version of the Tamar story brings the account yet another step closer to the holy spirit’s role in Matthew’s infancy narrative.
In his letter to the Galatians, Paul says that Jesus was ‘born of a woman’ (4.4). His phrasing, specifying a mother but no father, has often been taken as an allusion to the virgin birth. The phrase is actually an idiom which identifies the person as a human (cf. Job 14.1; 15.14; 25.4; Matt 11.11; Luke 7.28). It means nothing more than that. Paul’s use of the idiom ‘born of a woman’ signified nothing exceptional about Jesus’ parentage, prior to it being misinterpreted through the lens of later theology. In context, he was only identifying Jesus as a mortal man.
In the same way, attributing an idea, object, or action to being ‘from’ God did not require that it was supernatural or miraculous. This sort of expression was used to identify that such a thing came about because God decided it should, whatever the circumstances. Tamar’s deception of Judah was divinely ordained. The subsequent pregnancy was ‘from’ God.
The actual revelation to Joseph in Matt 1.20—that the conception of Jesus was ‘from the holy spirit’—should take priority over the preceding statement in 1.18. That is, we should read the revelation in Matt 1.20 as our point of reference for understanding how to interpret the statement, while Matt 1.18 should be read as a secondary parenthetical. Joseph, planning to divorce Mary, is told that her son is ‘from the holy spirit’, meaning that the scandal and the ensuing pregnancy happened because God decided it was necessary for his plan. This revelation appearing early in the narration, Matt 1.18, was the author getting ahead of himself, a sort of proleptic clarification.
The Focal Point in the Isaiah Prophecy
By the time we arrive at Matthew’s citation of Isaiah’s prophecy, we have found nothing which requires us to understand Matthew as suggesting Mary conceived Jesus by a miracle. For this reason, it does not appear Matthew misapplied
It may be demonstrated this was Matthew’s intention by how he reiterates the message later in his gospel. At no point does he so much as allude to Mary having conceived while a virgin. In fact, Matthew retains the perspective of his source, the Gospel of Mark, that Jesus had a contentious relationship with his mother and other family, who were unaware of his divine purpose (cf. Mark 3.21, 31–35; Matt 12.46–50.) But Matthew does echo the sentiment that ‘God is with us’ through the divinely-ordained son, at the very end of the book (28.18–20). These two declarations about Jesus become a framework for the overarching gospel narrative, the interpretive key for understanding what God was accomplishing through Jesus.
This brings us to the final statements on the question of Mary’s virginity and the identity of Jesus’ father. The couple gets married, so that when Mary gives birth it is Joseph who names him, an act by which he claims Jesus as his own son. Matthew later illustrates Joseph’s legitimate fatherhood in his revision of Mark, changing the identification of Jesus—by the people from his hometown, no less—from ‘the carpenter’ (Mark 6.3) into ‘the carpenter’s son’ (Matt 13.55).
Bava Batra 134a.10
One who says, ‘This is my son,’ is deemed credible. One who says, ‘This is my brother,’ is not deemed credible with regard to his other brothers’ obligation to share the inheritance with the subject of his statement. When one claims that this man is his brother, this claim is accepted with regard to the speaker’s own portion, and the man in question takes a share of their father’s inheritance with him (i.e. from his portion).
This does not mean that Joseph was the biological father of Jesus. It only settled his fatherhood as a legal matter.
The following statement that Joseph ‘did not know her until she had borne a son’ likewise only related to the duration of her pregnancy. Between the time of conception and birth, Joseph and Mary did not have intercourse. The specific phrasing ‘did not know her until’ contradicts the notion that Mary remained a virgin her entire life (other passages explicitly mention Jesus’ siblings: 12.46–47; 13.55–56). However, in the same way, it neither specifies that she was a virgin prior to their eventual sexual union.
Conclusion
Matthew’s infancy narrative is often parsed as the author having written down an existing oral tradition about the birth of Jesus, which he edited it into his distinct ‘Matthean style’. While I still find this possible, I now wonder if a simpler, more likely explanation is that the author himself invented the story. Perhaps he did so to explain why Jesus was chosen to become the Messiah at his baptism: God had, in fact, made this decision even before Jesus was conceived, and the baptism only happened to be the point when God executed the commission. This would be comparable to how the decision to call Jeremiah to become a prophet had been decided by God even before the man’s conception (Jer 1.5). This did not make Jeremiah the son of a virgin.
The genealogy in Matt 1.1–17 begins the infancy narrative by gently leading the reader to categorize Mary alongside four other women involved in sexual scandals. Verse 1.18 provides a brief overview of the problem: Mary was pregnant, and Joseph, the man to whom she was betrothed, was not the father. The author leaves out the details of how Mary got pregnant. Perhaps he did not know the story, or he did not care to preserve it. In the following verses, 1.19–21, we learn that Joseph was a compassionate man who nonetheless felt betrayed. But he had his worries dispelled with a divine revelation: Mary was pregnant because God decided she needed to be, because he decided her son will be a savior for Israel. There is no indication in the text that God made her pregnant ex nihilo. With 1.22–23, the divine ordination of Jesus is explained with an appeal to prophecy: through Jesus, God will be ‘with’ Israel. So, in 1.24–25, Joseph is filled with conviction and marries Mary, claiming Jesus as his own son (13.55), making him a descendant of David (1.1, 20; 9.27; 12.23; etc), per Joseph’s ancestry detailed in the genealogy.
The story remains intelligible without finding in it a virgin birth.
In further consequence of my recent thoughts on the synoptic problem, rather than speculating that Luke independently received the story of Jesus’ birth from the same source, it may be that Matthew was Luke’s source here. Following this theory for the moment, it may be that: Matthew introduced an infancy narrative in which Jesus was born to the ‘young woman’ Mary as a result of sexual scandal and was adopted by Joseph according to God’s plan, but the story was soon after misinterpreted by readers unfamiliar with some of the more distinctly Judean concepts. In the early second century, Luke haphazardly rewrote Matthew’s account to fit alongside other material about John the baptizer, introducing the concept of Jesus’ miraculous conception to a virgin to a wide audience. Later still developed the notion that Mary remained a virgin her entire life. These later ideas were read backward into Matthew (and other early Christian texts), becoming a circular proof for the now-common interpretation of Matthew’s infancy narrative.