About Elizaphanian

Rector of West Mersea

The marginality of the Virgin Birth (6): What has not been assumed…

In the last post I described Aquinas’ understanding of conception (taking him to be a representative of the mainstream Christian tradition). What I want to do in this and the next post is consider what happens to the implications of the doctrine of the Virgin Birth if you change the understanding of conception lying behind it.

Aquinas’ argument leaves Jesus’ humanity intact – he is of the same stuff as us. Yet if we take a different understanding of conception, ie one which involves DNA from two parents being fused to create a new individual, where does that leave Christ’s humanity? One might easily say ‘God created half of Jesus’ DNA’ – but what are the implications of accepting that? One is that Jesus possesses ‘special DNA’, he isn’t part of the common flow of DNA mixing – and therefore he is special and unique. That might not sound surprising, but the particular form of the uniqueness is no longer what it was for someone like Aquinas.

Consider, for Aquinas, the special and unique thing about Christ was the ordering of his human material, in such a way that it was without sin. In other words the distinction between Jesus and the rest of humanity was between the one who was sinless and the ones who are embedded in sin. This is a spiritual distinction, a moral distinction, a distinction which – at least in principle – is a consequence of voluntary actions, either of Adam and Eve originally, or of ourselves as we take part in the normal human activities of a sinful world. In other words there is no absolute distinction between Jesus and the rest of humanity – indeed, he shows us what being human really is, what being human was intended to be and, if we accept this, then through grace we might be able to share in what he has accomplished. Hence “to all who received him, to those who believed in his name he gave the right to become children of God – chidren born not of natural descent, nor of human decision or of a husband’s will, but born of God”.

None of this is possible if we understand conception differently. For if Christ is the product of ‘special DNA’ then the distinction between his humanity and ours becomes absolute. No longer is it something over which, even in principle, any human being can have any choice. A barrier has been established between the humanity of Christ and the humanity of the remainder of the human race. No longer is the barrier one to do with sin and choice and responsibility; now the barrier is one of biology and DNA. Jesus is different from us, not primarily because he was sinless (though that remains the case) but because his sinlessness proceeds from his biological distinction – in both sense of that word.

Jesus’ humanity is no longer the same as our humanity – and what that actually means is that Jesus is no longer human. He seems to be human; he acts on earth as if he was human; but it is a charade. Jesus is Superman, with an in-built genetic advantage. As such, he cannot be our saviour. For what he has not assumed, he has not healed. He has not assumed our mortal flesh, consequently our mortal flesh is not redeemed, is not raised up, is not capable of bearing divinity. I’ll say more about that in the next post.

For this one, what I would end with is a quotation from “Thirty years of honesty”, a prior version of which I read at University, and this quotation has always resonated with me, as it sums up all that seems to evangelistically unhelpful about this doctrine (my emphasis in the text). A ‘woman’s voice from a vicarage’ wrote to John Robinson saying:

The orthodox teaching has always maddened me; so many other humans have sacrificed themselves for us, endured more sustained and prolonged torture, without the comfort of being ‘the favourite son’… Any of us knows the impossibility of the struggle; what you have helped to remove is my constant annoyance that Christ always had an unfair advantage.

The marginality of the Virgin Birth (5): What was actually believed?

Pursuing this theme; I am thinking about doing something extensive – and positive – about the doctrine of the incarnation, partly in response to this post, but for now I think I can do without it. So briefly: the doctrine of the incarnation is that ‘the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, full of grace and truth’ etc. The Virgin Birth relates to that doctrine as a ‘how’, not a ‘what’. That is, it is an explanation of how the incarnation was possible, it is not the doctrine of the incarnation as such.

So how did this ‘how’ work? Here is Aquinas on the subject: “in conception the seed of the male is not by way of matter, but by way of agent: and the female alone supplies the matter. Wherefore though the seed of the male was lacking in Christ’s conception, it does not follow that due matter was lacking.” (ST III Q28 Art 1)

In other words, the material of humanity was supplied by Mary; the form of Christ’s humanity was supplied by the Holy Spirit. Consider plasticine – it can be shaped in all sorts of different ways, yet still remaining the same substance. So too, for Christ, he was of the same stuff as the rest of us, it’s just that his stuff was ordered and shaped in a different way, ie without sin, which is passed on as an ‘infection’ through sexual intercourse. Here’s Aquinas again: “Now it was not possible in a nature already corrupt, for flesh to be born from sexual intercourse without incurring the infection of original sin.”

This seems to me to be coherent as a way of explaining the ‘how’ of the incarnation. Humanity reproduces through the planting of sperm (that which gives form and shape) in the ‘field’ of the womb, which field supplies the matter of our human nature. Original sin is passed on through sexual intercourse, and thus, in order to be without sin, a conception is required which bypasses such intercourse. What is needed is to replace the sperm with a different force providing form and shape to the matter of humanity – this is supplied by the Holy Spirit. Thus the doctrine of the Virgin Birth explains and supports the doctrine of the incarnation, that Jesus Christ was fully human (all of his material was the same as our material) whilst still being wholly divine (a sinless image of the Father).

The trouble is, we don’t understand conception in the same way any more. And to believe the same thing in a different context is no longer to believe the same thing. In other words, when weight is placed upon this doctrine the consequences that follow from it are not the same consequences that flowed hitherto. As I see it, a doctrine that once explained and supported the doctrine of the incarnation now accomplishes the precise opposite – which will be the subject of the next two posts.

Blech again


The more observant will notice that this is not a beach photo – it’s actually Great Wigborough churchyard, a photo that I took before Christmas. I’ve gone down with something horrid again and managed to sleep for eleven hours last night. I shall shortly be returning to that blissful state of slumber…

Apocalypse 2012 (Lawrence E. Joseph)


I was expecting this to be a load of old cobblers, but it was surprisingly sane – although it was reporting on some spectacularly loony stuff. I was most intrigued by the information about solar flare activity and the sunspot cycle, which seems as if it is gearing up to a high point in 2011 or so; and the way in which global warming might provoke increased volcanic activity. As I’m persuaded that we are moving into a pretty scary time anyway, much of this was useful. Quite a good read if you’re interested in the topics.

The marginality of the Virgin Birth (4): Weight-bearing words

I want to draw a distinction between two sorts of belief (I’m sure this isn’t original to me, and I’ve used this distinction many times before).

Some forms of belief are simply knowledge, they are extra pieces of mental furniture inside our heads.
Other forms of belief are directly action-guiding; that is, they involve a response of the whole body and provoke a whole repertoire of behaviours.

I call the second form of belief ‘weight bearing’; they are forms of language that actually ‘do work’ in people’s lives. (When I spoke about understanding the grammar of religious faith it’s this second aspect that I have in mind – so often atheists deal with religious belief as if it was entirely the first sort of belief).

Examples of the first sort of belief are (for me) details of quantum physics. I can read in the newspaper or in books about scientific experiments that are establishing different forms of sub-atomic particles, like the Higgs Boson and so on, but this is simply extra information. It doesn’t have any impact whatsoever upon my life. If tomorrow the scientists turned round and said – actually we’ve got this wrong, the Higgs boson is actually two different things (and both at the same time 😉 – then I’d find it interesting but no more.

An example of the second sort of belief, however, would be: my 1 year old daughter would be hurt if I dropped her on her head. That is action-guiding in a very strong sense, and I actively try to be as careful as possible when holding her. There is no disconnect between mental idea and human behaviour.

Or, a different way to bring out the distinction, consider the difference between ‘Mrs Smith is committing adultery’ and ‘your wife is committing adultery’ (and female readers can reverse the gender). One has an impact upon a life, the other does not.

Now what sort of belief is the Virgin Birth? If it is the first sort of belief then I don’t really have any sort of problem with it – it’s simply an historical curiosity. It’s like pondering the likelihood that Jesus had black or very dark brown hair, dark brown eyes, and was unlikely to have been more than about five and a half feet tall. Those thoughts are more or less true – but nothing hinges on them.

The trouble is that weight has been placed upon this doctrine – it has been made to do work – and that is where my concerns are really focused.

The marginality of the Virgin Birth (3): Creed

I wasn’t going to do one specifically on the creed, but Tim’s comment is worth taking up. He said in response to my last post that my list of core doctrines was “a personal list, not the church’s list. The church’s list is found in the Nicene Creed and the Apostles’ Creed – and the Virgin Birth is found firmly among the essentials listed there.”

Well in one sense that is straightforwardly true; however I’m not that concerned with making a personal list as it would completely undermine the broader point I’m trying to make. So I need to do two things: 1) argue that the list I gave (modified if need be) actually IS the church’s list, and 2) argue that the virginity of Mary is not crucial to the purpose of the creed – which is really the burden of the series as a whole. Yet a little more could be said.

My list has four doctrines in it: resurrection, incarnation, the Trinity and creation. If there is another major doctrine to be included (eg it could be argued that the doctrines of salvation, Fall and atonement and so on, should be covered separately) then the list can be expanded or modified (are there others? I’m very open to expanding the list). However to say that the virgin birth is a doctrine of equal importance to these others, simply because it is mentioned in the creed is, to my mind, insufficient.

The creed itself is structured in a particular way, and was formed to counteract certain heretical views. So there is a Trinitarian structure, there is the element of God as creator, God as incarnate in Christ and God as Spirit, with a few addenda for completeness. So the broad themes are (obviously) harmonious. However, the major part of the second section of the creed is concerned with establishing the metaphysical status of Christ over against the Arians and other heretics – in other words it is very conditioned by the particular circumstances of that time. Consequently understanding the role of the virgin birth has to be pursued within that framework. Which is what I’m going to move on to in later posts.

One more thing can be said. The creed is not sufficient for Christian faith. In particular, it is virtually silent on Jesus’ life and teachings – and I’m quite sure that an Anabaptist Anglican wouldn’t want to downplay those two things relative to the metaphysical gymnastics in the creed!! (grin) The creed serves as a bulwark against particular forms of error, but as a guide for practical Christian discipleship it is manifestly inadequate on its own.

Three schematics for the place of Scripture

This is following up on one of Tim’s comments. Tim was arguing that someone like Cranmer wouldn’t have understood the role of Scripture in the way that I do, and I’m wanting to get a handle on how they would have done, so because I think this way, here’s another triangle:

This one still has Christ as the highest authority, and under that Scripture, then tradition and reason etc. The latter lead into the former, but it is the former which must be accepted in order to gain access to Christ. (As I understand the RC position, the blue area is higher than the green, but still with Christ at the top).

This is different to my triangle:
…because with my triangle it is possible to gain access to Christ independently of Scripture (eg through the church community).

In my post on conscience I was arguing (in effect) that the first position was the equivalent of fundamentalism. That was question-begging, because another diagram will express how I see fundamentalism(!):

In other words, for me, by definition fundamentalism isn’t in touch with the living Christ (the yellow cross). I think that the first triangle above – call it the ‘Reformed’ model – can and does provide access to the living Christ. What I wonder is whether it’s possible to preserve a communion between those who accept the two different triangles. Because they are really quite different theologically. I may go into that in greater detail later on; for now, I’ll let the question stand.