Matthew 2:1f After Jesus was born in Bethlehem in Judea, in the time of King Herod, wise men from the East came to Jerusalem saying, “Where is the one who is born king of the Jews? For we saw his star when it rose and have come to worship him.”

Separating tradition from (biblical) text

Tradition says that the magi were three in number and that they were kings, but this is not indicated in the text.  The names Caspar, Balthasar, and Melchior were not attached to the Magi until 700 years later.  It is often assumed that they made a hazardous journey over a great distance, but the text only says that they came ‘from the East.’

Historicity doubted

For sceptical scholars such as Marcus Borg and Dominic Crossan, the story of the visit of the Magi is a ‘parable’, constructed out of OT texts in order to convey the true significance of Jesus:-

‘In our judgement, there was no special star, no wise men and no plot by Herod to kill Jesus. So is the story factually true? No. But as a parable, is it true? For us as Christians, the answer is a robust affirmative. Is Jesus light shining in the darkness? Yes. Do the Herods of this world seek to extinguish the light? Yes, Does Jesus still shine in the darkness? Yes.’ (The First Christmas: what the gospels really teach about Jesus’ birth)

The contributor to Harper’s Bible Commentary asserts that

‘the story of the Wise Men is like a “haggadah,” i.e., a story made up from biblical materials to make a theological point.’

The OT texts would have included Num 24:17, Ps 72:10–11, and Isa 60:1–7.  The same kind of process continued to elaborate the tradition beyond the NT period, adding details such the visitors being not merely wise men, but kings (and, we might add, giving them names).

Robert H. Gundry, although claiming to be an evangelical who believes in inerrancy, thinks that Matthew has altered Luke’s story about the shepherds (which he thinks is historical) to this very different story about the Magi.  The Magi are then made to come to a ‘house’, not a ‘stable’ (as if Luke had specified that it was a stable!) because it would fit better with their distinguished status:

‘Matthew selects them [the Magi] as his substitute for the shepherds in order to lead up to the star, which replaces the angel and heavenly host in the tradition…That Herod’s statement consists almost entirely of Mattheanisms supports our understanding Matthew himself to be forming this episode out of the shepherd’s visit, with use of collateral materials.  The description of the star derives from v. 2.  The shepherds’ coming at night lies behind the starry journey of the magi’

‘turns the visit of the local Jewish shepherds (Luke 2:8-20) into the adoration by Gentile magi from foreign parts. Just as the four women (besides Mary) in the genealogy pointed forward to the bringing of Gentiles into the church, so also the coming of the magi previews the entrance of disciples from all nations into the circle of those who acknowledge Jesus as the king of the Jews and worship him as God.’

Specifically, Gundry thinks that Matthew gets the magi from the OT (Dan 2:2,10, LXX), that they were astrologers, and that they were selected as substitutes for the shepherds in order to introduce the star, which replaces Luke’s angels (Lk 2:8-15).  The magi also recall the Gentile prophet Balaam, who also came from the East (Num 23:7 LXX), and observes the rising of a royal star (Num 24:17-19).

To have such insight into the Matthew’s fertile imagination is a truly wonderful thing.  See Carson, Exegetical Fallacies, p135, and this article in Christianity Today.

But the various objections to the historicity of this account overlook

‘the well-documented intense interest by ancient astrologers in Persia and elsewhere in the connection between astral phenomena and political events and the fact that in A.D. 66 the eastern astrologer Tiridates and other Magi visited Rome (cf. Dio Cassius 63.7; Suetonius, Nero 13). It was also widely believed during this era that stars heralded the birth of human beings destined for greatness (Brown, 1977), and in fact both Suetonius and Tacitus tell us that at the turn of the era there was an expectation of a world-ruler who would come from Judea (Suetonius, Vesp. 4; Tacitus, Ann. 5.13). Further more, the gifts brought by the Magi are regularly mentioned in ancient sources as valuable products of Arabia and other eastern countries. There is nothing inherently improbable about the story itself, though doubtless the First Evangelist has shaped his source material to bring out the points he wishes to stress.’ (DJG)

As Ian Paul remarks,

‘The approach presents problems of its own. For one, the stories are not presented as parables, but in continuity with the events Matthew relates in Jesus’ life later in the gospel. For another, if God in Jesus did not outwit Herod, on what grounds might we think he can outwit ‘the Herods of this world’? More fundamentally, Matthew and his first readers appeared to believe that the claims about Jesus were ‘parabolically true’ because these things actually happened. If none of them did, what grounds do we now have?’

Historicity affirmed

Regarding the general plausibility of this account, Nicholl (The Great Christ Comet) remarks that

1. the massacre of the innocents matches what we know about Herod’s suspicious and cruel nature
2. the long journey of the Magi to greet a new king is in keeping with what other magi did, some 70 years later in the time of Nero
3. most devout Jews and Christians despised astrology; it is most unlikely that they would have fabricated this story
4. the fact that the star appeared about a year before the massacre of the innocents (Herod determining the age of those to be killed based on this information) is hard to account for otherwise

On the other hand, arguments against historicity (Herod would not have called the Sanhedrin together, he would have sent a spy along, the Magi already knew the way to Bethlehem, and didn’t need the star to show them the way, the slaughter of the innocents is not mentioned in other ancient sources) are weak.

France adds a further argument in favour of the historicity of this event, stating that:

‘it is unlikely that a church which repudiated astrology and magic would have embarrassed itself by inventing such undesirable witnesses to the Messiah.’

Who were they?

‘Originally a religious class in Media and the Persian Empire, but the word magi came to describe any student of astrology and lore.’ (Holman Apologetics Commentary)

‘Magi’ are mentioned in two other places – Acts 8:9-11; 13:6. In each of these cases they are presented as deceiving charlatans. Matthew’s magi are, however introduced favourably, in that they ‘worshiped’ the newborn Jesus, presented him with gifts, and responded to a (God-given) dream by outwitting Herod.

John Hudghton says that although the term ‘magi’ was sometimes used of individuals who used magic as a means of making a living, its primary reference was to

‘the “tribe” of priests who acted almost like a religious civil service to the various empires of the area, from the Babylonian through to the Medo-Persian era and then to the Parthians. Josephus tells us that no one could be King in Parthia unless they knew the ways of the Magi and were supported by the Magi who some understood to operate in a not dissimilar way to a US senate. They were indeed not the Kings but they were the power behind the throne – the King makers. You may remember in the book of Daniel that Daniel is appointed chief of the Magi. They had a reputation throughout the region for being educated, wise, learned, religious priests with knowledge of religion from previous empires to that of Zoroastrianism, the prevalent religion of the Parthian empire. Conventional learning was interlaced with astrology, alchemy and other esoteric knowledge.’

How many?

If they came from a great distance (Persia, say), then, considering the length and hazardous nature of their journey, they probably travelled in a fairly sizeable convoy.  The preparation and undertaking of such a journey would probably have taken several months.

But, as Dwight Longenecker observes, Matthew does not say that they travelled a great distance; only that they ‘came from the east’.

So, where did they come from?

They could have come from Persia, Babylon or Arabia.

(a) Persia?

Among recent scholars, this is favoured by Blomberg.  It is in the east and was at some time a centre for astrology and astronomy.  The term ‘magi’ originated in this area, although by NT times it had expanded to cover a range of meanings and connotations.

In his comprehensive study, The Mystery of the Magi, Dwight Longenecker concludes that:

‘while the Persian magi seem at first glance to be the obvious candidates for Matthew’s wise men, an examination of the history makes it clear that they were in fact unlikely to have been the mysterious visitors to Bethlehem. Their influence at a low point, hedged in by Roman military might, they did not have the motive or the means to make such a journey.’

(b) Babylon?

There was a large Jewish population there from whom the could have learned about OT promises of a coming king.  If they came from Babylon, it would have been a journey of about 550 miles, and might have taken a month or so by camel train.

Babylon is certainly to the east of Judea.  There was a sizeable Jewish diaspora in Babylon.  Dan 2:2,10 make it clear that magi had been associated with Babylon for a long time.  Josephus and Philo both attest to there being a sizeable Jewish population there.  The Babylonian Talmud has frequent references to the Jewish population being visited rabbis.  Babylon was a renowned of astronomy.  Putting these facts together, we might well expect magi from Babylon to be skilled in astronomical observation, and familiar with OT prophecies concerning the Jewish Messiah.  Important figures in the early church, including Origen, Jerome and Augustine, associated the magi with Babylon.

Mounce:

‘The astrologers probably came from Babylonia, where they would have had contact with the Jewish exiles and the opportunity to develop an interest in the coming Messiah.’

Kerry Magruder (Dictionary of Christianity and Science, art. ‘Star of Bethlehem’) states:

‘Babylon at this time was the leading center for magi who were not only astrologers but also proficient astronomers. Babylonian magi were historical, not legendary, and their astronomical knowledge was sophisticated, not trivial. These magi, the “scribes of Enuma Anu Enlil,” pioneered quantitative methods in ancient astronomy and could predict planetary cycles hundreds of years into the future (Swerdlow 1998). Few discussions of the Bethlehem star appreciate the capability of mathematical astronomy in this cuneiform tradition or delve deeply into the historical question of the magi’s astrology, that is, how they interpreted celestial events.’

This location is also favoured by Nicholl, France, Hagner and others.  The last-named writes:

‘Since the magi in Matthew’s narrative have some knowledge of Jewish messianic expectation, they must have had some contact with Jewish thinking. While this could have occurred in Persia or Arabia, Babylon had a settled Jewish community and seems the most likely candidate cf. Dan 2:48; 5:11. (WBC)

(c) Arabia?

Kenneth E. Bailey (Jesus Through Middle Eastern Eyes) says that to someone living in Rome ‘the east’ would suggest Persia, whereas from the perspective of the Holy Land, ‘the east’ would be the other side of the Jordan river.  The expression ‘would naturally refer to the Jordanian deserts that connect with the deserts of Arabia.’  The same writer adds that gold was mined in Arabia (cf. 1 Kings 9:28; 10:2; Job 28:16), and that frankincense and myrrh are harvested from trees ‘that only grow in southern Arabia.’  Early Christian writers, including Justin Martyr, Tertullian and Clement of Rome all attest to an Arabian origin from the Magi.

This region is described as being in the ‘East’ in Gen 10.30; Judges 6.3; Ezek 25.4,10.

Bailey reports that:

‘In the 1920s a British scholar, E. F. F. Bishop, visited a Bedouin tribe in Jordan. This Muslim tribe bore the Arabic name al-Kokabani. The word kokab means “planet” and al-Kaokabani means “Those who study/follow the planets.” Bishop asked the elders of the tribe why they called themselves by such a name. They replied that it was because their ancestors followed the planets and traveled west to Palestine to show honor to the great prophet Jesus when he was born.’

The reference to Arabia in Isa 60:6 might also support this suggestion.

The most detailed advocacy of this view that I have seen is by Dwight Longenecker, who thinks that:

‘the wise men were Nabatean courtiers on horseback traveling a few hundred miles to Jerusalem on their own well-travelled trade routes.’

Specifically, Longenecker points to the Nabatean kingdom (capital, Petra) as a possible origin for the magi.  This area had a rich Jewish heritage, and its people would have had a deep interest in the birth of a new Jewish king.  Both Jews and Babylonian magi would have fled to Arabia about 550 BC, and found refuge in Petra and other Arabian colonies.

This reviewer helpfully summarises Longenecker’s main thesis:

‘Deep in the red rock city of Petra, the Nabateans built a small kingdom that was a trading hub for the region. Jews, Parthians, Persians, Edomites, Greeks and Romans were all drawn to this well-watered city of wonders.

‘The Nabateans had deep ancestral ties with the Abrahamic tribes. Furthermore, they were involved in political intrigue between Herod and Roman Emperor Augustus.

‘The central chapters of Mystery of the Magi lay out the regional history and politics, all leading to the book’s main claims: The Magi were Nabateans. They rode swift horses on the Nabatean trade route from Petra to the port at Gaza, a trip that would have only taken a few days.

‘They visited Jerusalem on a diplomatic mission from King Aretas IV to see who might be the heir of Herod, also taking note of astrological signs that indicated the potential appearance of the Messiah.

‘They followed these signs and information from Herod’s court to do homage to Jesus with valuable gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh from Petra.’

Although it might be argued that Arabia is to the south, rather than to the east, of Palestine, Dwight Longenecker provides evidence that suggests that ‘the east’ might well refer to those parts of Arabia that lie east of the Jordan River and the Dead Sea.

Dwight Longenecker summarises his understanding of this journey:

‘Matthew uses the word “magi” in a general way, meaning any kind of shaman, astrologer, prophet, soothsayer, or wise man. Sapient courtiers were commonplace in the ancient world, and magi of Babylonian origin were known to be dispersed across Asia Minor, Syria, Arabia, and Egypt.

‘“The East” in the Old Testament and among the Jews in Judea and Syria (to whom Matthew was writing) was understood to be Arabia. The Nabatean kingdom of Aretas IV was the Arabian power at the time, therefore Matthew’s Magi were Nabateans.

‘The capital of the Nabatean kingdom was Petra—about three hundred miles southeast of Jerusalem. The Nabatean’s trade route to the port of Gaza ran about ninety miles south of Jerusalem. Their route north ran east of the Dead Sea to Damascus.

‘There is no mention in the gospel of a long desert trek. For Nabatean diplomats riding swift Arabian horses (not camels), the journey to Jerusalem would have been relatively short. It takes about twenty-four hours to travel one hundred miles on horseback, so it was a three- to five-day journey.’

Their witness to Jesus

The magi have occasionally be made out to be sinister characters.  But Mark Edward is along the right lines when he writes that:

‘The author of Matthew intended the μάγοι to represent ‘the best wisdom of the Gentile world’.  They stand in stark contrast to the Judean ‘chief priests’ and ‘scribes’ (2.4), who are painted in an extremely unflattering light throughout Matthew (5.20; 7.29; 9.3; 12.38; 15.1; 21.15, 23, 45). Jesus twice identifies the ‘chief priests’ and ‘scribes’ as the ones who will kill him (16.21; 20.18), his final public discourse entirely consists of him denouncing their leadership (Matt 23), they lead the crowds in demanding Jesus’ crucifixion (27.20–26), and they mock him on the cross (27.41).’

In his book Mystery of the Magi, Dwight Longenecker develops a case for the Magi of Matthew 2 being courtiers from the kingdom of Nabatea.

Longenecker writes:

‘At the time of Jesus’ birth, the city of Petra was the thriving capital of the Nabatean kingdom, a major power in the Middle East. Covering most of the Sinai Peninsula and extending halfway along the eastern coast of the Red Sea, the Nabatean kingdom, at its height, spread across northern Arabia and present-day Jordan to Damascus in Syria.’ Originally nomadic, the Nabateans had settled around Petra, developing highly sophisticated ways of controlling the water supply, and cornering the market in frankincense, myrrh and other products.

It seems likely that the Nabateans shared a common history with the Jews.  Indeed, it is possible that they are to be linked to Nebiaoth, and grandson of Abraham through Ishmael (Gen 28:9).  Nebiaoth’s descendants are represented in the OT as the most important of the Arabian tribes.

There is also a link with Moses:

‘When Moses fled from Egypt after murdering an Egyptian slave driver, he took refuge among the Midianites in northwest Arabia. This was the territory in which the Hebrews lived as nomads before entering the Promised Land, and today’s visitor to the area around Petra can visit the purported site of the tomb of Moses’ brother Aaron.’

And there was a yet later Jewish influence:

‘When Nebuchadnezzar conquered Jerusalem in 586 BC, he did not transport all the Jews to Babylon. Poor farmers remained on the land in Judea, and Josephus records that some of the scattered Jews escaped to Arabia.’

Indeed, it is thought that of the many Jewish colonies around Arabia, the one that formed in Northern Arabia is thought to have been the largest.  Some of those who settled brought with them traditions and wisdom rooted in Abrahamic faith and which pre-dated Solomon’s temple.

The image of Yahweh as a ‘rock’ is prominent in OT teaching.  It is noteworthy that the earlier forms of Nabatean religion did not feature idols.  Rather, their gods were represented by standing stones.  The parallel with the Jewish prohibition of graven images is striking.  Also striking is the resonance with the story of Jacob who, after wrestling with an angel set up a standing stone and called the place ‘Bethel’ (‘house of God’).  The Nabatean standing stones are called ‘betyls’.

The Nabatean religion has a further similarity with ancient Judaism by expressing a form of emergent monotheism (henotheism).

There would, then, be ample reasons for the Nabateans to be interested in a newborn king in neighbouring Judea.

Nabatean civilisation was something of a melting pot.  In addition to the strong Jewish influence, the Nabateans were open to Persian, Greek and Roman ideas and influences.

The Nabateans were connected to Persia by trade, politics and language (Aramaic being the common tongue).  Babylon, too, was cosmopolitan, with Phoenicians, Syrians, Elamites, Egptians and Jews all rubbing shoulders.

Arabian, Jewish and Babylonians influences were found in the northern Arabian oasis town of Tayma,

‘a city important for our story because of the intriguing character who settled there, a man who embodied the blend of Babylonian and Jewish influences—the last king of the Babylonians, Nabonidus.’

Concerning this king:

‘In 1994, in the ancient Edomite hill fort of Sela, just north of Petra, archaeologists discovered a relief carving of a figure in a long Babylonian royal robe and pointed cap. The figure holds a scepter in his right hand, and his left is raised toward a crescent moon, a winged sun, and a seven-pointed star representing the planet Venus. Most scholars believe the carving portrays Nabonidus, the last king of the Neo-Babylonian Empire, who died in 539 BC.’

Nabonidus had invaded northern Arabia and, instead of returning to Babylon established an alternative capital in Tayma, in the heart of what would become Nabatean territory.

So we have in Tayma a strong Jewish presence, along with a strong Babylonian influence.  It has been conjectured that the book of Job, and portions of Isaiah, might have originated among the Jewish exiles in Tayma.

It is notable that Nabonidus set about revitalising the worship of the god Sin, the centres of which were Ur, Harran and Tayma.  We know that Abraham came from Ur and Harran, and also that Tayma was the name of his grandson (son of Ishmael).

It is quite possible the Nabonidus set about unifying the worship of Sin with that of Yahweh (soe scholars believing that the first was actually a precusor of the second).

The Nabateans were also influenced by Greek philosophy, with Cicero recording that Pythagoras and Democritus visited the magi in Arabia.

There are several reasons why the Nabateans would have been interested in the birth of a new king in Israel.  They were, for instance, close neighbours.  Moreover, they had strong ancestral links and links to Abrahamic religion.

But were there magi in the region of Nabatea?  Nabonidus is known to been a strongly religious king, and the relief carving referred to above has a number of religious symbols:

‘[It] is portrayed with astral signs, including the crescent moon, the sign of the god Sin; Venus, a star that often stood for Zoroaster; and the winged sun, which is a symbol of the Zoroastrian god Ahura Mazda, might the  mysterious figure be a magian priest from Babylon?’

It is possible, then, that Nabonidus was not only a king, but a star-gazing priest.  A magian, no less.

Aside from these reasonable inferences, there is achaeological evidence of Babylonian magi in Arabia:

‘The tombs and temples in Petra echo the earlier royal tombs in Persia, and a carved head of a priest was uncovered in Petra showing the same high headgear and Babylonian-style facial hair that are found in the carvings of King Nabonidus and in the wall carvings of Persian priests in Persopolis.’

Just as some Jews had fled from Nebuchadnezzar to Arabia in 586BC, so Babylonian magi, who had been suppressed by the Persian conqueror, Darius, also fled to Arabia, some 60 years later.  But historians know that Persian magi, too, all over the Middle East.  These Persian magi were skilled in mathematics and astrology, and were regarded as the ‘scientists’ of their day.  By the time of Christ, their influence was less in Persia, and they would have had little reasons to undertake a long journey to find a new Jewish king.

But the Nabatean magi, on the other hand:

‘had deep roots in Abrahamic religion, had absorbed later Jewish cultural influences, were steeped in the magian lore of Babylon, and, by the time of Christ’s birth, had absorbed elements of Greek religion and philosophy. It was natural that such men should have a deep interest in a newborn king of the Jews.’

In Isaiah 60:4-7, it is Jews from North Arabia – the land of the Nabateans – who lead the way back from exile to Jerusalem:

‘“Ephah” is the son of Midian, one of Abraham’s sons (Genesis 25:4). Ephah gives his name to another northern Arabian tribe, famous for using camel caravans for the frankincense trade. “Sheba” refers to Jews from Yemen or the kingdom of Saba in southern Arabia,22 while the “flocks of Kedar” refer to the northern Arabian tribe of Qedarites who merged with the Nabateans. The “Nebaioth,” as we saw in chapter five, are the tribe many believe are the ancestors of the Nabateans.’

At the time of Christ’s birth, Qumran was occupied by the Essene community.  They evidently had a high regard for the book of Isaiah.  Indeed, it is possible that the later portions of Isaiah originated among the Jewish exiles in one of the Nabatean colonies.  It is known, too, that the Essenes had a strong interest in astrology.  This interest may have fed into the decision of Matthew’s Magi to seek the new-born king of the Jews.

Summarising the argument so far:

‘The Nabatean civilization developed out of the melting pot of northern Arabian tribes, exiled Jews, and Neo-Babylonians. The prophecies of Isaiah originated in the Nabatean territory, where they were treasured and preserved. Second Isaiah spoke of a coming savior who would bring justice and open the way for the whole world to worship the one true God, and the Nabatean Jews would be the ones who led the way.’

Turning now to Herod, we find that he was the son of a Nabatean princess and was brought up at the court of the Nabatean royal family.  Around 32BC Herod attacked the Nabuteans in a (successful) bid to ingratiate himself to Octavian, who triumphed in the Battle of Actium.  Herod proceeded to control the end-points of the Nabatean trade routes, levying heavy taxes on the goods as they passed through.  The Nabateans responded by supporting raids on Herod’s northeastern borders.

By 14BC the Nabateans were making diplomatic overtures to Herod.  A Nabatean courtier named Syllaeus formed an alliance with Herod by proposing to marry his sister Salome.  Herod agreed, providing Syllaeus would convert to Judaism.  Skirmishes between Herod and Syllaeus ensued, with Rome siding with the latter.

In 9BC, before Syllaeus could claim the crown in Petra, another courtier seized power, taking the name Aretas IV and offering gifts to Caesar.  The emperor was enraged however, and Herod and the new Nabatean king found themselves on the same side: ‘they were both enemies of Syllaeus, who was still in favor with Augustus in Rome, and they both suffered the disfavor of the emperor.’

In 7BC sent trusted enjoys to Rome, pleading his case against Syllaeus, and the latter was executed the following year.

We have now reached 6BC, the year of Jesus’ birth.  At this time:

• Aretas IV had a somewhat insecure hold on the Nabatean throne.
• He and Herod had reason to be on good terms with one another.  The Nabateans were natural allies, and Herod had been brought up in the Nabatean court.  They also had shared religious ties.
• Herod was now in favour with Rome, and Aretas would do well to take advantage of this.
• Herod was by now old and dying.  If a new prince was born to the Herodian dynasty, the Nabateans would do well to be the first to pay homage.
• Herod controlled his borders with Nabatea, and so the interests of commerce made this a good time to build bridges.

Indeed,

‘We know that Aretas IV and Herod were forging an alliance at the time of Christ’s birth because soon after Herod’s death two years later, his heir, Herod Antipas, married Aretas IV’s daughter Phasaelis.’

Aretas IV had every reason, then, to send envoys to Herod’s court.

The very gifts they brought – gold, frankincense and myrrh – were precisely the costly commodities associated with that region of the Middle East.  Arabian mines yielded fabulous quantities of pure gold.  Frankincense came only from trees grown in southern Arabia and certain areas in Eastern Africa.  Myrrh came from a wider area in southern Arabia.  The Nabateans traded many different goods, but gold frankincense and myrrh were their own produce.  And it was the custom of the time for one country to pay tribute to another with such precious gifts.

So:

‘In 6 BC the political situation between the Nabatean King Aretas IV and Herod the Great was exactly what you would expect for tribute gifts to be made. Aretas’s claim to the throne was shaky. Herod had just worked with the lawyers in Aretas’s court to persuade the emperor Augustus that their joint enemy Syllaeus was a scoundrel. Aretas had already sent tribute gifts to Caesar, who grudgingly accepted the gifts and gave his approval to Aretas IV’s claims. Aretas sent sweeteners to Caesar it makes sense that he would do the same for Herod when the proper opportunity arose.’

The Nabatean Magi would have used well-trodden and familiar trade routes to reach Jerusalem.  They did not need a star to guide them.  Moreover, their knowledge of the area would have enabled them to return from Bethlehem by another route, and Matthew records.  At the time of Jesus’ birth Herod and Aretas were forging a new alliance.  Herod’s fury at the news of the birth of the new king would have put the Magi in danger with both of them.  It is quite possible that their new route took them to Damascus, again, by a familiar trade route.

We should not suppose that the Magi undertook a journey of several months using camels.  Rather, they would have travelled on horseback (the Nabateans became famous for their horses, and Arabian horses are celebrated even today).  They would have covered the journey of a few hundred miles in just a few days.

When the Magi arrived in Bethlehem, they paid homage (‘worshipped’ is not quite the right word) as to a newborn king.  However, we do not need to deny a religious aspect either.

Dwight Longenecker, in his book Mystery of the Magi, proposes that the magi were courtiers from Nabatea (capital: Petra) in Arabia.

Their journey would have been undertaken on horseback and would have taken a few days.

We know from Matthew’s account that they returned by ‘another route’.  This might have taken them to Damascus (which was at that time also part of Arabia, but later became part of the Roman empire).

If the magi sheltered in Damascus, they would have been ‘in their own country’ but sheltered both from Herod and from their own king, Aretas III.  Some time later, they would have been able to return to Petra via the trade route that stretched southwards from Damascus.

The beginning of this route to Damascus receives support from the existence of a small monastery, dedicated to St. Theodosius, which. according to tradition, marks when the Magi stopped on their journey from Bethlehem.

Putting together fragments of evidence, it is possible that the magi came into contact with Essenes in Qumran, before heading north to shelter with Essenes near Damascus.

In Acts 9 we read that Saul was authorised by the Jewish leaders in Jerusalem to travel to Damascus to round up the Christian believers there.  It was on his way there that he received his vision of the risen Christ and was converted.  But why was it that there was an important group of believers there?  Could it be that they were members of a community established by the Magi after their visit to Bethlehem, 30 years earlier?

After his conversion, Paul states (in Galatians) that he went to Arabia.  Following Margaret Barker, Longenecker speculates that Paul may have gone to Nabatea in Arabia, and there taught by a school established by the Magi.  We find in Paul’s theology the three strains that would have been found in the Nabateans: (a) Abrahamic Judaism (e.g Gal 4:25); (b) a knowledge of mystery religions (rejected by Paul, but still lending language and imagery to his thinking – see Eph 1:9)); and (c) Greek philosophy (cf. 1 Cor 1:22-25; Acts 17:22-34).

But if the Magi were Nabatean diplomats, why didn’t Matthew say so?  Longenecker suggests three reasons.

(a) he didn’t need to; his audience of Jewish Christians in Judea would have understood clearly who the Magi were;

(b) Matthew’s sources may have handed the story down in such a spare form because both Herod and Aretas III were known to be vengeful and paranoic men; and

(c) Matthew may have wished to validate the benign Magian influence without lending credence to false magicians and gnostic sects by making too much of that influence.

All of this is admittedly speculative (more so than Longenecker’s theory that the Magi were courtiers from Nabatea).  But it seems to make quite good sense of the available data.

2:1 After Jesus was born in Bethlehem in Judea, in the time of King Herod, wise men from the East came to Jerusalem 2:2 saying, “Where is the one who is born king of the Jews? For we saw his star when it rose and have come to worship him.”

As to the identity of this star:

1. Some regard the entire story as fictional.  Ehrman (Jesus, Interrupted) makes no attempt to make sense of the account.  He writes:

What does it mean that there is a star guiding the wise men, that this star stops over Jerusalem, and then starts up again, leads them to Bethlehem, and stops again over the very house where Jesus was born? What kind of star would this be, exactly? A star that moves slowly enough for the wise men to follow on foot or on camel, stops, starts again, and stops again? And how exactly does a star stop over a house? I tell my students to go outside on some starry night, pick one of the brightest stars in the sky, and figure out which house on their block it is standing over. Obviously what is being narrated here is a miraculous event, but it is very hard to understand what the author actually has in mind. It doesn’t appear to be a real star, a nova, a comet, or any astronomical phenomenon ever known.

Note the self-contradiction here.  On the one hand, Ehrman recognises that ‘what is being narrated here is a miraculous event’.  But, on the other hand, ‘it doesn’t appear to be…any astronomical phenomenon ever known.’  But it wouldn’t have to be, would it, if it were purely ‘miraculous event’?

For those who regard the star as fictitious, the story is seen as a tale weaved out of various strands of Scripture from the Old Testament.  Jenkins speculates that the appearance of Halley’s comet in AD 66 may have suggested the story to the author of the First Gospel.

Dale Allison, having noted the star’s apparent moving and resting, concludes:

‘This is no ordinary star, and attempts to identify it with a planetary conjunction, comet, or supernova are futile.’  (The Oxford Bible Commentary)

But, clearly, if we can give a plausible explanation for the behaviour of the star, we raise the index of confidence in the historicity of the event.  Its appearance might then amount to a ‘miracle of timing’.

2. At the opposite end of the scale, some regard the star as a purely supernatural phenomenon.

This was the view of Calvin:

It may be inferred from the words of Matthew, that it was not a natural, but an extraordinary star. It was not agreeable to the order of nature, that it should disappear for a certain period, and afterwards should suddenly become bright; nor that it should pursue a straight course towards Bethlehem, and at length remain stationary above the house where Christ was. Not one of these things belongs to natural stars. It is more probable that it resembled a comet, and was seen, not in the heaven, but in the air. Yet there is no impropriety in Matthew, who uses popular language, calling it incorrectly a star.

France leans towards this view.

Pater (40 Questions about the Historical Jesus) agrees:

‘Most likely…the star was the glory of God or an angel; in other words, something supernatural rather merely natural.’

Culpepper:

‘no natural phenomenon can explain a star that could guide the magi to Jerusalem, then to Bethlehem.’

Jason Engwer suggests a number of reasons for considering the star to be a non-astronomical phenomenon:

*The fact that only one group of magi is reported to have followed the star makes more sense if the star was a non-astronomical entity.

*The star’s movements make more sense under a non-astronomical interpretation.

*The fact that Herod was dependent on the magi for information about the star, even after he concluded that they’d betrayed him (Matthew 2:16), suggests that the star wasn’t an astronomical object that he could get information about from other sources.

*The comments of the earliest patristic sources who discuss the star (Ignatius, Irenaeus, Protevangelium Of James, etc.) are better explained by a non-astronomical object.

It has been suggested that the ‘star’ was actually an angel – a description by no means unknown in the Bible (Job 38:7; Dan 8:10; Rev 1:16, 20; 2:1; 3:1).  Wilkins (NIVAC) suggests that this is

consistent with the prominent place of the angel of the Lord in the overall infancy narrative: announcing to Joseph the virginal conception of Jesus (Mt 1:20), warning the Magi not to return to Herod (Mt 2:12), warning Joseph to flee with the family to Egypt (Mt 2:13), telling them to go back to Israel (Mt 2:19), and guiding them in a dream to Nazareth (Mt 2:22).

Some appeal, in support of this interpretation, to Matthew’s description of the star as ‘going before’ the magi and ‘standing over’ the place where Jesus was born.  This objection is raised by Pate (40 Questions about the Historical Jesus).  But Matthew himself does not mention any angel or angels in connection with the star itself.  And the magi appear to rely on their own astrological calculations in determining the meaning of the star.

Ramm (The Christian View of Science and Scripture), Gleason Archer, Carson, France, Blomberg, Osborne, and Culpepper all incline to the view that the ‘star’ was purely supernatural phenomenon.

3. Others, seeking an explanation where the miracle is in the timing of the phenomenon, rather than in the event itself, suggest that the ‘star’ was a triple conjunction of Jupiter and Saturn in 7 BC.  This explanation was proposed by Kepler, who observed such a triple conjunction in 1604 (which was followed by a supernova).

Mounce, following Stauffer, suggests that this was unusual in that it took place in the constellation of Pisces (an event that occurred only once in 794 years).  Mounce quotes Stauffer as maintaining that

‘since Jupiter was regarded as the star of the universe, Saturn the planet of Palestine, and the constellation of the Fishes the sign of the last days, this rare conjunction “could only mean that the ruler of the last days would appear in Palestine”.’

A variant interpretation would see Jupiter (representing the new king) overtaking Saturn (the old king) in the sky.

Kerry Magruder (Dictionary of Christianity and Science, art. ‘Star of Bethlehem’) discusses two episodes of Jupiter’s heliacal rising and retrograde motion that took place around the time of Jesus’ birth.  The first, occuring in 7 BC, involved a triple conjunction with Saturn (after which the two planets were joined by Mars).  The second, occuring in 6 BC, also involved the heliacal rising and retrograde motion of Jupiter in Aries, with an astrologically significant configuration of Mercury, Venus, Mars and Saturn.

Magruder, while obviously giving some weight to the above interpretations, notes that the identity of the star must remain uncertain until we gain a better understanding of the magi and their methods of astrological calculation.

Writing in New Scientist, David Hughes says that following his own investigation:

‘I plumped for the planetary conjunction, mainly because in Jewish astrology it suggested the overtaking of the old king (Saturn) by the new (Jupiter)-in Pisces, associated with Israel. It was also sufficiently insignificant to the non-stargazer to explain why Herod was surprised when the Magi turned up on his doorstep. This conjunction indicated that Christ was born near Tuesday 15 September, 7 BC.’

Mark Edward finds the proposal of a Jupiter/Saturn conjunction plausible, but is then faced with the claim that the star ‘moved’.  He concludes that such a conjunction may form the background to Matthew’s account, but the account can scarcely be regarded as sober history.  Edward dismisses the comet theory (on which see below) simply because it is not attested elsewhere.

Robert Clifton Robinson, following broadly the theories of Ernest L. Martin and Frederick A. Larson, proposes the following:

‘Between September of 3 B.C. and June of 2 B.C., Jupiter passed by the star Regulus in the constellation Leo. Jupiter reversed itself and then passed Regulus again, turning back to pass the star a third time. This was a remarkable event since astrologers considered Jupiter the “Kingly Planet” and regard Regulus as the “Kings Star.”

‘The crowning touch came on June 17, when Jupiter seemed to approach so close to Venus, that even without magnification, the two looked like a single star with greatly increased brilliance. This whole sequence of events could have been “signs” enough for at least three astrologers to go to Jerusalem and ask Herod: “Where is He that is born King of the Jews, for we have seen his star in the east and are come to worship him.”’

This approach (as propounded by Martin and Larson) is discussed by Nicholl (pp82-84) who finds a number of problems with it.  Perhaps the most obvious difficulty is that it requires a date for Christ’s birth which is almost certainly incorrect (there is good evidence for saying that Herod had died in 4 BC, and so Jesus must have been born prior to that date.

4. Still others have made a case for a nova or supernova.  France says that

‘Chinese astronomers recorded a nova which was visible for 70 days in 5/4 B.C., which would fit a date shortly before the death of Herod.’

This theory is discussed by Mark Kidger in his 1999 book The Star of Bethlehem: An Astronomer’s View.  Kidger suggests that the appearance of the nova was the culmination of a number of celestial portents.  Nicholl detects a number of flaws in Kidger’s argument, as does Pettem.  Among these is the challenge of reconciling this (and the preceding) theory with the movements of the star as described in Matthew 2.

It is not surprising, then, that a number of distinguished commentators, including Morris and France, express agnosticism on the matter.

5. For myself, I have long suspected that the ‘star of Bethlehem’ was, in fact, a comet.  A good case for this had been made by Sir Colin Humphreys in this article.

Humphreys suggests that:

‘Three unusual astronomical events were involved in the interpretation of the Magi.

First, the triple conjunction of Saturn and Jupiter in Pisces in 7 BC, the interpretation being that a king of the Jews would be born;

Second, the massing of 3 planets in 6 BC, the interpretation being that this would be a mighty king;

Third, the comet in the east, signifying that the birth of the king was imminent, and spurring the Magi to make their journey to Jerusalem.

A particularly significant point is that 2 years elapsed between the 7 BC planetary conjunction and the 5 BC comet, which explains Herod killing all children in Bethlehem aged 2 years and under. This “2 years” is otherwise difficult to explain. Herod and his agents would not ‘easily find out for themselves’ the assumed significance of these astronomical events…since the Babylonian-trained Magi were the source of astronomical knowledge and “interpretation” in those times.’

(Paragraphing added)

The comet proposal goes back at least as far as Origen, and is famously depicted by Giotto in his painting The Adoration of the Magi (fourteenth century).

Instone-Brewer (Science & The Bible) follows Humphreys in suggesting that the phenomenon was a combination of a comet and a planetary conjunction:

‘The planets Jupiter and Saturn were conjoined (that is, they were very close to each other) in the constellation of Pisces three times in 7 BC, and then again in 6 BC along with Mars. These were followed by a comet that was visible for seventy days in 5 BC according to ancient Chinese records. These events would be very significant for the magi, who believed conjunctions of Saturn and Jupiter portended important events, and associated Pisces particularly with the country of Israel.’

Biblical scholar Colin Nicholl has developed a yet more detailed and nuanced case in his 2015 book The Great Christ Comet: Revealing The True Star of Bethlehem (Crossway).

Murray Harris (Navigating Touch Texts, Vol II, 2024) clearly leans towards this theory, showing awareness of Humphreys’ work, but not Nichol’s.

The BBC’s ‘The Sky At Night’, in its ‘Christmas special’ broadcast on 30th December 2015 also plumped for the comet theory, but with no reference to Nicholl’s work, or indeed to Humphreys’.

Nicholl argues that

1. the magi were Babylonian scholars, skilled in astronomy and astrology, and used to making astronomical observation;
2. there was a considerable Jewish population in Babylon, who would have been able to point the magi to Old Testament scriptures such as Numbers 24:17 (which may well refer specifically to a comet) and Isaiah 7:14 (the famous passage about the ‘virgin’ conceiving) that would have helped them to discern its meaning and significance;
3. the appearance and of movement of the ‘star’ in the sky was so remarkable that it convinced the magi that a royal birth had taken place in Judea and led them to make the 550-mile journey;
4. the word translated ‘star’ was used in ancient times for a variety of celestial phenomena, including comets;
5. the sudden appearance of this object, and its visibility for over a year, makes sense only if it was a supernova or a comet;
6. its ‘rising’ (first appearance in the evening or dawn twilight), which so impressed the Magi, points strongly to it being a comet;
7. the movement of the object, over a couple of months, from the eastern morning sky (as seen originally from Babylon) to the southern evening sky (as seen when journeying from Jerusalem to Bethlehem), is possible only for an object in the inner solar system, again pointing strongly to its identity as a comet;
8. the description of the object ‘standing over’ the place of Jesus’ birth, and pinpointing its location, again fits its identity as a comet, with a long and prominent tail;
9. Revelation 12:1-5 appears to be a vivid account of the comet’s appearance and progress.  It is ‘born’ in the constellation of Virgo.  Soon afterwards, a great meteor storm occurs in the neighbouring constellation of Hydra.  This account is consistent with that found in Matthew 2, and they are explicable in astronomical terms;

According to Pettem, the strongest arguments against the comet identification are

(a) that there are no extant Chinese records that would support this within the correct time frame, and

(b) that a comet would normally be considered a bad omen, and not a good omen.  But the first of these objections wrongly assumes that the ancient records are complete, and the second is, at best, an over-simplification (the Star of Bethlehem was certainly a bad omen for King Herod!).

Brown (The Birth of the Messiah) adds the difficulty that if the ‘star’ is to be identified with an appearance of Halley’s Comet, then this took place in 12 BC – a long time before the usually-accepted date of Jesus’ birth.  (This may be circumvented, according to Brown, by hypothesising that Matthew’s account is not historical, but was suggested to his imagination by that appearance of Halley’s Comet and by ‘the coming of foreign ambassadors two years later to hail King Herod on the occasion of the completion of Caesarea Maritima’.  But this objection relies on the assumption that the comet in question was Halley’s; and we know that it is perfectly possible for comets with very long orbits (and therefore unknown orbital periods) to appear in the sky from time to time.

Robert Clifton Robinson dismisses the comet theory out of hand:

‘The sign that the Magi saw in the heavens was certainly not a Comet, as these types of formations were thought to be evil.’

Regarding this oft-repeated objection that comets were generally considered to be bad omens in the ancient world, Nicholl replies:

• What some consider to be a bad omen (e.g., the death of a ruler), others might well consider to be a good omen (the end of a tyrannical reign and the welcoming in of a new order.  [As noted previously, the comet was certainly bad news for Herod!]
• Examples can be cited of comets that were regarded as good omens.
• The Hebrew Scriptures (especially Num 24:17) would have led the Jews, and those acquainted with the scriptures, to regard comets positively.

Nicholl suggests that Old Testament passages such as Numbers 24:17 and Isaiah 9:2 refer to comets, and may well have formed the basis of the belief of the Magi that their comet heralded the birth of a great king.  Nichols also links the comet to Revelation 12:1-5, suggesting that this passage paints a picture of what the Magi witnessed.

Incidentally, Eusebius (roughly AD 260-340) connected the Star of Bethlehem with Numbers 24:17.  Although he did not understand that verse to be referring specifically to a comet, he did emphasise that, for him, the Bethlehem Star was a ‘strange’ star, such as a comet, and, must have been unusual, and regards the appearance of at least some comets as good omens:

‘In the case of other remarkable and famous men we know that strange stars have appeared, what some call comets, or meteors, or tails of fire, or similar phenomena that are seen in connection with great unusual events. But what event could be greater or more important for the whole Universe than the spiritual light coming to all men through the Saviour’s Advent, bringing to human souls the gift of holiness and true knowledge of God? Wherefore the herald star gave the great sign, telling in symbol that the Christ of God would shine as a great new light on all the world. (Source)’

A strength of Nicholl’s work is that he has done a great deal of astronomical homework.  Although I have an amateur interest astronomy, I have not been able to follow the details of his discussion about the movements of the comet.  For most of us, it will be sufficient to know that this work has been done, and that professional astronomers have both assisted with this work and have reviewed it favourably from that point of view.

I thought that Nicholl was sometimes a little too confident in some of his conclusions (‘possibly’ tends to morph into ‘probably’).  Also, I found some details of the argument rather speculative (for example, he did not convince me that the references to ‘light’ in John’s Gospel convey a memory of the natal ‘star’).  Nevertheless, his case as a whole is very solid.

I occurred to me as I read the book (as it will occur to many other readers) that if the comet put on such as spectacular display as Nicholl suggests, then why is there no record of it in, say, the Chinese records of the day?  Nicholl explains that this is not so surprising as at first seems, because the Chinese records were, in fact, very incomplete (he includes a substantial appendix documenting this).

Obviously, all future discussions of the magi and their ‘star’ will need to take Nicholl’s work into account.  (How unfortunate, then, that Michael Pettem’s The Star of Bethlehem: Science, History and Meaning, does not mention Nicholl at all.  Given the relevance of Rev 12 for Nicholl’s case, tt is also unfortunate that Ian Paul, in his commentary on Revelation, does not reference Nicholl’s work)  But his theory, if correct, sheds light (if you will pardon the expression) on much more besides.  It demonstrates the historicity of the biblical account at a point where it might have been thought most vulnerable, and it provides a vivid example of a particular kind of phenomenon: where the marvel is not so much in what happened, but in the timing of what happened.  It thus challenges those of a sceptical frame of mind to confront the possibility that the God of heaven and earth has intervened in this world, and not left himself without a witness to that fact.

With this last thought in mind, I have turned to one review in particular of Nicholl’s book.  Writing in the Spectator, astronomer Marek Kakula concedes that ‘since he is a Biblical scholar by training, Nicholl’s grasp of the essential astronomy and astrophysics is all the more impressive.’  Then, surprisingly, Kakula suggests that all of this careful and even-handed treatment of the astronomy ‘sits somewhat uneasily’ with the book’s assumption about the historicity of biblical account of the event itself.  But surely that is part of the point: it would have been near-impossible to fabricate a myth about a ‘star’ that behaved as the ‘star of Bethlehem’ did.  As Kakula himself acknowledges, it takes 21st-century knowledge and 21st-century technology to make astronomical sense of the record.  Far more rational, then, to assume that it actually happened and that we are now in a better position to understand more precisely what happened, and (in scientific terms) how.

Kakula continues in this rather irrational vein when he asks: ‘Does it really matter whether the Star of Bethlehem was a real astronomical object or not?’  He answers his own question by preaching a little sermon:

‘Read as a parable of hope and salvation, the Biblical account of the Nativity is a universal story: peace on earth and goodwill to all men is a message that even the most hardline atheist can get behind.’

But just as you cannot make words mean anything you like (despite the protestations of Humpty Dumpty), so you cannot make stories mean whatever you want them to mean.  The question we should be asking of the story of the magi and their ‘star’ is: Did it really happen that way?  And if it did, it does not bear the kindly but vague meaning that Kakula would like it it have: it means, rather, that our planet may have been visited in a remarkable and very specific way.

But, then again, some people may refuse to be convinced even if someone rises from the dead.

Conclusion

It will be apparent from the above discussion that I think that what the magi saw was either a purely supernatural phenomenon, or that it was a comet (possibly accompanied by other significant celestial events, such as plantary conjunctions).  In the latter case, the ‘miracle’ is one of timing.

John 7:40-44  Some of the crowd began to say, “This really is the Prophet!”  Others said, “This is the Christ!” But still others said, “No, for the Christ doesn’t come from Galilee, does he?  Don’t the scriptures say that the Christ is a descendant of David and comes from Bethlehem, the village where David lived?”  So there was a division in the crowd because of Jesus.  Some of them were wanting to seize him, but no one laid a hand on him.

Did John know that Jesus was born in Bethlehem?

Harper’s Bible Commentary notes that the supposition that ‘Jesus is known to come from Galilee (cf. Jn 1:46)’ is ‘never contradicted in the Fourth Gospel.’

More forthrightly, Richard Dawkins (The God Delusion) regards the Gospels as examples of ‘ancient fiction’, to be compared with the stories of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table.  He writes:

‘A good example of the colouring by religious agendas is the whole heart-warming legend of Jesus’ birth in Bethlehem. . . . John’s gospel specifically remarks that his followers were surprised that he was not born in Bethlehem. . . . Matthew and Luke handle the problem differently, by deciding that Jesus must have been born in Bethlehem after all’ (p. 93).

In response, we note, first of all, that it was not ‘his followers’ who expressed surprise, but some members of the ‘crowd’ – probably the same section as expressed hostility towards Jesus.

But, further, Dawkins ignores (or, more probably, is ignorant of) a widely-recognised characteristic of the Fourth Gospel – irony.

In the Dictionary of Jesus and the Gospels:

‘When Jn 7:42 is taken as indicating that the Fourth Evangelist knew nothing of Jesus’ birth in the city of David, the intentional ambiguity found throughout John’s Gospel is being misunderstood’

F.F. Bruce writes:

‘If we infer from this passage that the fourth Evangelist either did not know or did not accept Jesus’ Davidic descent or nativity in Bethlehem, we expose our own failure to appreciate his delicate handling of this situation.’

As Bruner remarks, John (in canonical balance with the other Evangelists) is more interested in Jesus’ heavenly origins than in his earthly origins, although he shows that he is aware of these through his ironic use of statements such as the present one.  In other words, John knows that Jesus is ‘from Bethlehem’, but he is, more importantly, ‘from God’.

Bruner cites Godet:

‘John often takes pleasure in reporting objections which, for his readers who are acquainted with the Gospel history, turn immediately into proofs’.

And Bruner quotes Culpepper:

‘[B]ecause one of the author’s favorite devices is to allow Jesus’ opponents to speak the truth unawares, the balance is in favor of the assumption that the author and his intended readers knew the tradition of Jesus’ birth in Bethlehem.’

Kruse underlines the Johannine irony:

‘The irony was, of course, that Jesus was born in Bethlehem. His origins were not in Galilee as these people supposed. More important than this, of course, is that Jesus’ real origins were in heaven, from when he had been sent by the Father.’

In DJG, 2nd ed., art. ‘Archeology and Geography’:

‘When John 7:42 is taken as indicating that the Fourth Evangelist knew nothing of Jesus’ birth in the city of David, the intentional ambiguity found throughout John’s Gospel is being misunderstood.’

For Bruner, Chrysostom captures well ‘the irony of the intertextual debaters’ “knowing” so much about Jesus’ origins at all: Only a little earlier in the chapter Jesus’ questioners had said with great assurance, “we know where this man is from; but when the Messiah comes, no one will know where he is from” (v. 27); but now they suddenly say with equal assurance, “The Messiah isn’t [like Jesus] coming from Galilee, is he?… the Messiah comes from Bethlehem” (vv. 41–42). Chrysostom cites their two very different positions: “ ‘The Christ will come from Bethlehem’ and ‘When the Christ comes, no one will know where he is from,’ ” and asks, “What is clearer than this inconsistency? For they were intent on one thing only: namely, [on] not believing in Him.”’

Two well-known non-conservative scholars agree:

‘Paul, in opening his letter to the Romans, speaks of “the gospel concerning his [God’s] Son, who was descended from David according to the flesh” (1:3)….This [John 7:41-42] is a typical instance of Johannine irony. He presumes that Jesus was born at Bethlehem and, therefore, the crowd’s ignorance confirms what they deny. Jesus is the Messiah, and he was born in Bethlehem. Paul and John indicate that common Christian tradition that Jesus was the Davidic Messiah and was – whether literally or metaphorically – born in Bethlehem.’ (Marcus Borg and John Dominic Crossan, The First Christmas.  Cited here)

For other examples of Johannine irony, see Jn 7:35; 11:48; 13:38.

Lincoln wonders how the evangelist would expect his readers to respond to this objection (that the Messiah was to come from Bethlehem):

1. It may be that the evangelist thought that ‘any such speculation about Jesus’ place of earthly origin is beside the point, because Jesus’ real place of origin is above’.
2. It may be that (as noted by a number of scholars – see above) the evangelist is using irony.  He readers would know from their acquaintance with the other Gospel traditions that Jesus’ birthplace was indeed Bethlehem and not Galilee.

Lincoln notes that as early as Jn 1:46-49 Nathanael is reported as believing that Jesus came from Nazareth.  This was a scandal as far as Nathanael was concerned, and yet he was still willing to confess that Jesus is ‘the King of Israel’.

Lincoln asks, pertinently,

‘how likely is it that the evangelist would raise an objection based on a specific scripture, in this case Mic. 5:2, if he did not think that the objection could be met and that Jesus had actually fulfilled this scripture?’

In conclusion, Lincoln writes:

‘It could be, then, that the evangelist is aware of the tradition behind Matthew and Luke or of the actual birth narratives, although having Jesus born in Bethlehem is not at all necessary for his own distinctive Christological perspective. If so, the point here may be that the objectors misunderstand what the real question about Jesus’ origin is, and, even when they formulate their own inadequate question, are unaware that that question is one to which Christian believers have already given considerable reflection.’

Blomberg (Historical Reliability of John’s Gospel) comes to a similar conclusion:

‘The confusion over Jesus’ birthplace (vv. 41b-43) is a classic example of Johannine irony. By the end of the first century both John and his readers would have known of Christ’s birth in Bethlehem (cf. Matt. 2:1-12; Luke 2:1-20), but many during Jesus’ lifetime would not have known this. Jesus is generally identified as coming from Galilee because that is where he spent the majority of his childhood… Once again John’s narrative reflects historical verisimilitude.’

Matthew 2:4 After assembling all the chief priests and experts in the law, [Herod] asked them where the Christ was to be born. 2:5 “In Bethlehem of Judea,” they said, “for it is written this way by the prophet:
2:6 And you, Bethlehem, in the land of Judah,
are in no way least among the rulers of Judah,
for out of you will come a ruler who will shepherd my people Israel.’ ”

1. Some think that Matthew has deliberately reversed the meaning of the Micah text. 

Conner (All That’s Wrong With the Bible) asserts that Matthew’s version:

‘goes completely against the supposed prophecy by negating it.’

But such a summary dismissal of the text serves only to demonstrate the prejudice of the writer, who makes no attempt to understand what might be going on.

Turning to a reputable (if occasionally idiosyncratic) scholar, we find Gundry writing:

‘Matthew inserts “by no means” to deny emphatically the leastness of Bethlehem in Micah’s text. For Matthew, in other words, Jesus’ birth has transformed Bethlehem from the unimportant village it was during Micah’s time into the supremely important birthplace of the messianic king from David’s line.’

2. Others think that the meaning is essentially the same.

According to the 19th-century commentary by Jamieson, Fausset and Brown:

‘This quotation, though different verbally, agrees substantially with the Hebrew and LXX.  For says the prophet, “Though thou be little, yet out of thesee shall come the Ruler” – this honour more than compensating for its natural insignificance; while our Evangelist, by a lively turn, makes him say, “Thou art not the least: for our of thesee shall come a Governor” – this distinction lifting it from the lowest to the highest rank.”

Hendriksen:

‘Though the quotation from Mic. 5:2 is not according to the letter—the main change being the one from “who are little to be among” to “are by no means least among”—it is according to the essence, for in both cases the meaning is, “Though you, Bethlehem, are but little, yet you are by no means least, for Israel’s Ruler shall come forth from you.” As Micah saw it, therefore, and as the Jewish authorities now interpret it, Matthew concurring, in the tribal meetings where each city and village was represented by its chief or prince, Bethlehem, though small in population, is very important because Israel’s great Leader was destined to be born there.’

Geisler & Howe (When Critics Ask):

‘Matthew may be saying that since the Messiah is to come from this region, it is by no means least among the other areas of land in Judah. The phrase in Micah only says that Bethlehem is too little or small, as compared to the other areas of land in Judah. The verse does not say it is the least among them, only very little. Matthew is saying the same thing in different words, namely, that Bethlehem is little in size, but by no means the least in significance, since the Messiah was born there.’

Gundry notes (without giving references) that

‘Many have offered conjectural emendations of Micah’s text in order to assimilate it to Matthew’s, but the difficulty of the present text stands in its favour, and Matthews penchant for interpretation in quoting the OT militates against assimilation of Micah to Matthew.’

3. Others think that the ‘contradiction’ is formal, rather than material.  Matthew has changed the text in order to bring out its true meaning:

‘Matthew makes a key addition to Micah’s wording, by inserting the word translated “by no means,” to show that the fulfillment of this prophecy has transformed Bethlehem from a relatively insignificant town into a city of great honor. What seems at first glance to create a formal contradiction in fact involves an addition designed to make the text accurately reflect the altered situation. This combination of translation and commentary closely resembles that of the Jewish targums. Discerning Jewish readers would have known the wording of the original text and would have recognized that Matthew’s addition was not a mistake in quoting the Scriptures but an interpretative explanation.’ (NAC; France explains similarly)

The contributor to the Commentary on the New Testament Use of the Old Testament agrees that the ‘contradiction’ is formal, rather than real:

‘The addition of “by no means” creates a formal but not a material contradiction (Carson 1984: 88). Bethlehem was insignificant by worldly standards, but once it was graced with the birth of the Messiah, it was no longer insignificant, at least not by God’s standards.’

However, if this is the case, it is curious that Matthew seems to place these words in mouths of others.

Osborne:

‘Matthew has also added “by no means” (οὐδαμῶς), which formally contradicts Mic 5:2 (“though small among the clans of Judah”) but actually highlights the greatness that is the true meaning of the passage. Matthew is interpreting the text to emphasize that the insignificant village of Bethlehem has become truly great because the Messiah was born there.’

In Blomberg’s opinion, Matthew is using a well-known strategy of combining translation with commentary:

‘Matthew makes a key addition to Micah’s wording, by inserting the word translated “by no means,” to show that the fulfillment of this prophecy has transformed Bethlehem from a relatively insignificant town into a city of great honor. What seems at first glance to create a formal contradiction in fact involves an addition designed to make the text accurately reflect the altered situation. This combination of translation and commentary closely resembles that of the Jewish targums. Discerning Jewish readers would have known the wording of the original text and would have recognized that Matthew’s addition was not a mistake in quoting the Scriptures but an interpretative explanation.’

Hagner thinks that Matthew may be utilising a reading already current in his day:

‘Given Matthew’s sense of the fulfillment that has occurred in Bethlehem, the initial statement of the prophet must now paradoxically be reversed: hence, οὐδαμῶς ἐλαχίστη, “by no means the least.” But the change may involve more than simply a liberty on the evangelist’s part. If in the MT the initial ל were read as the negative particle (לאֹ, lōʾ) i.e. with the slight change of לִהְיוֹת, lihyôt, to לאֹהְיוֹת, lōʾhĕyôt, a reading is produced that coincides with Matthew’s Greek rendering of the passage. This reading, given its appropriateness in a reference to the birth of the coming ruler, could possibly already have been circulating in Matthew’s time.’

Hagner’s suggestion works well in the light of the fact (which many commentators overlook) that the words in question are placed in the mouths of ‘the chief priests and experts in the law’.

2:11 As [the magi] came into the house and saw the child with Mary his mother, they bowed down and worshiped him. They opened their treasure boxes and gave him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh.

Summary.  Rather than supposing that the gifts brought by the magi carry symbolic meaning, it is probably better to view them as gifts ‘fit for a king’.

Do the gifts have symbolic meaning?  I have some hesitation about this, but I’ll put this out as a gentle warning to my fellow-preachers anyway.

Some of seen a symbolic significance in the individual gifts offered.  An anonymous writer from the Patristic period was one of the first to attach symbolic meaning to the gifts:

‘They displayed their offerings, gifts in themselves fit for nations to give. For, realizing that he was king, they offered him their elegant and costly first fruits, fit for the Holy One. They offered him gold they had stored up for themselves. Moreover, recognizing his divine and heavenly coming to them, they made an offering of frankincense, a beautiful gift like the soothing speech of the Holy Spirit. Moreover, understanding as they did that human life is but a sepulcher, they offered myrrh.’ (ACCS)

According to the Orthodox Study Bible:

‘The significance of the Magi’s gifts is revealed in a hymn sung at Compline of the Nativity: “Gold is for the King of ages. Frankincense is for the God of all. Myrrh is offered to the Immortal One, who shall be three days dead.”’

Green remarks that gold is especially associated with royalty; incense with priestly worship, and myrrh with burial. ‘In those three gifts we see who he is, what he came to do, and what it cost him.’

Hendriksen, who is sympathetic to the view that each gift carries symbolic significance, quotes Origen who said that the Magi brought ‘gold, as to a king; myrrh, as to one who was mortal; and incense, as to God.’

It is better, however, to understand the significance of the gifts more generally, as gifts ‘fit for a king’.

Matthew Henry simply notes that

‘some think there was a significancy in their gifts; they offered him gold, as a king, paying him tribute, to Caesar, the things that are Caesar’s; frankincense, as God, for they honoured God with the smoke of incense; and myrrh, as a Man that should die, for myrrh was used in embalming dead bodies.’  More important, for this commentator, is that ‘providence sent this for a seasonable relief to Joseph and Mary in their present poor condition.’

JFB similarly express caution:

‘That the gold was presented to the infant King in token of his royalty; the frankincense in token of his divinity, and the myrrh, of his sufferings; or that they were designed to express his divine and human natures; or that the prophetical, priestly, and kingly offices of Christ are to be seen in these gifts; or that they were the offerings of three individuals respectively, each of them kings, the very names of whom tradition has handed down-all these are, at the best, precarious suppositions. But that the feelings of these devout givers are to be seen in the richness of their gifts, and that the gold, at least, would be highly serviceable to the parents of the blessed Babe in their unexpected journey to Egypt and stay there-that much at least admits of no dispute.’

Blomberg thinks that all of the gifts are associated with royalty, and therefore honour Jesus as King.

Osborne agrees that these are the kinds of gifts that would be given to a future king.  He adds that they reflect OT precedent: ‘in fact, there is a fulfillment sense in these passages (see Ps 72:10–11, 15, in which “all kings” fall down in homage and give gifts [gold] to the king; Isa 60:3–6, where the nations rejoice and bring their riches [gold and frankincense]; and 1 Kgs 10:2, 10, where the Gentile Queen of Sheba gave gold, spices, and precious stones to Solomon, the son of David). The message is that when the nations are blessed and brought to Zion by the Messiah, they will bring gifts to the true and final King (Isa 60:3, 5, “Nations will come to your light … the riches of the nations will come”).

France says,

‘The homage of these learned Gentiles is intended to indicate the fulfilment of such passages as Ps 72:10ff, Isa 60:1ff (these passages probably account for the later Christian tradition that these Magi were “kings”), and two of the gifts are specifically mentioned in Ps 72:15 (gold); Isa 60:6 (gold and frankincense). They are gifts fit for a king, as is also myrrh, Ps 45:8; Song 3:6; and they remind the reader of the homage of the Queen of Sheba to the son of David, with her gifts of spices and gold, 1 Kings 10:2. The use of myrrh in the crucifixion, Mk 15:23 and burial, Jn 19:39, of Jesus has led to the tradition that it symbolises his suffering, but in the Old Testament it is rather a symbol of joy and festivity (see references above, and Prov 7:17; Song 5:5.’

WBC concurs:

‘The offering of gold and precious spices is not extraordinary but does suggest that the magi who could give these gifts were of some wealth. The “decoding” of the three gifts – that gold reflects Christ’s kingship, frankincense his deity, and myrrh his suffering – is irrelevant to Matthew’s intention.’

Again:

‘It is obvious that the magi symbolize the Gentiles who, unlike the Jews, prove receptive to the king and God’s purposes in him. The realization of eschatological salvation means blessing for all the nations and not simply Israel-this in accord with God’s promise to Abraham and the universalism of the prophets. The Church, in the West at least, did not miss the import of the magi, and before they began to celebrate Christmas, they already celebrated Epiphany (Jan. 6), the manifestation of Christ to the Gentiles.’

Wilkins agrees that symbolic interpretations read too much into the text.

‘Rather, these three gifts indicate the esteem with which the Magi revere the child and represent giving him the honor due him as king of the Jews.’ Wilkins adds: ‘More than the Magi know or intend, these gifts are likely used to providentially support the family in their flight to and stay in Egypt.’

Dwight Longenecker, in his book Mystery of the Magi, proposes that the magi were courtiers from Nabatea (capital: Petra) in Arabia.

Their journey would have been undertaken on horseback and would have taken a few days.

We know from Matthew’s account that they returned by ‘another route’.  This might have taken them to Damascus (which was at that time also part of Arabia, but later became part of the Roman empire).

If the magi sheltered in Damascus, they would have been ‘in their own country’ but sheltered both from Herod and from their own king, Aretas III.  Some time later, they would have been able to return to Petra via the trade route that stretched southwards from Damascus.

The beginning of this route to Damascus receives support from the existence of a small monastery, dedicated to St. Theodosius, which. according to tradition, marks when the Magi stopped on their journey from Bethlehem.

Putting together fragments of evidence, it is possible that the magi came into contact with Essenes in Qumran, before heading north to shelter with Essenes near Damascus.

In Acts 9 we read that Saul was authorised by the Jewish leaders in Jerusalem to travel to Damascus to round up the Christian believers there.  It was on his way there that he received his vision of the risen Christ and was converted.  But why was it that there was an important group of believers there?  Could it be that they were members of a community established by the Magi after their visit to Bethlehem, 30 years earlier?

After his conversion, Paul states (in Galatians) that he went to Arabia.  Following Margaret Barker, Longenecker speculates that Paul may have gone to Nabatea in Arabia, and there taught by a school established by the Magi.  We find in Paul’s theology the three strains that would have been found in the Nabateans: (a) Abrahamic Judaism (e.g Gal 4:25); (b) a knowledge of mystery religions (rejected by Paul, but still lending language and imagery to his thinking – see Eph 1:9)); and (c) Greek philosophy (cf. 1 Cor 1:22-25; Acts 17:22-34).

But if the Magi were Nabatean diplomats, why didn’t Matthew say so?  Longenecker suggests three reasons.

(a) he didn’t need to; his audience of Jewish Christians in Judea would have understood clearly who the Magi were;

(b) Matthew’s sources may have handed the story down in such a spare form because both Herod and Aretas III were known to be vengeful and paranoic men; and

(c) Matthew may have wished to validate the benign Magian influence without lending credence to false magicians and gnostic sects by making too much of that influence.

All of this is admittedly speculative (more so than Longenecker’s theory that the Magi were courtiers from Nabatea).  But it seems to make quite good sense of the available data.

Matthew 2:13 After [the magi] had gone, an angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream and said, “Get up, take the child and his mother and flee to Egypt, and stay there until I tell you, for Herod is going to look for the child to kill him.” 2:14 Then he got up, took the child and his mother during the night, and went to Egypt. 2:15 He stayed there until Herod died. In this way what was spoken by the Lord through the prophet was fulfilled: “I called my Son out of Egypt.”

Sceptical view

Conner (All That’s Wrong with the Bible) complains that:

‘The original verse in Hosea clearly refers to Israel coming out of slavery in Egypt and includes nothing whatsoever about Christ or anything Messianic.’

Robert M. Price cites the present passage to illustrate his thoroughly skeptical view of the historicity of the Gospel narratives, according to which it is ‘likely that virtually the whole Gospel narrative is the product of haggadic midrashon the Old Testament’.  He adds:

‘It has been customary to suppose that early Christians began with a set of remarkable facts, then sought after the fact for scriptural predictions for them. We have supposed that Hosea 11:1 provided a pedigree for Jesus’ childhood sojourn in Egypt, that it was the story of the flight into Egypt that made early Christians go searching for the Hosea text. Now it seems, by contrast, that the flight into Egypt is midrashic all the way down. The words in Hosea 11:1 “my son,” catching the early Christian eye, generated the whole story, since they assumed such a prophecy about the divine Son must have had its fulfillment.’ (The Historical Jesus: Five Views)

Jonathan Pearce (The Nativity: a Critical Examination) attempts to make a number of points:

• According to v15, this episode is clearly contrived: it happened ‘so that a prophecy could be fulfilled.’  (This represent a naively wooden reading of the text.  For Matthew, Scripture can be ‘fulfilled’ in a number of ways, not all of which entail a simple prediction/fulfilment pattern.)
• The words of Hosea do not fit Matthew’s account.  (I have dealt with this elsewhere.)
• Matthew’s account is not corroborated anywhere else in the New Testament.  Luke tells a completely different story, and leaves no space for the sojourn in Egypt.  (Again, I have discussed the relationship between the two accounts elsewhere.)
• The fact that there was a large Jewish population in Egypt that could have sheltered the family does not make it this particular account likely.  (Perhaps not: but it makes it more likely than would otherwise be the case.)
• The story of the Flight to Egypt can be readily explained in terms of Midrash, and is therefore not historical in nature.  (The supposition that an account is given a Midrashic interpretation does not thereby show it to be ahistorical).

Believing view

Wilkins (Holman Apologetics Commentary) notes that, according to some critics,

‘Matthew fabricated details or manipulated true facts of Jesus’ life in order to make it appear that Jesus fulfilled OT prophecies about the coming Messiah. For example, some suggest that Matthew, who wrote to a Jewish audience, made up a life story about Jesus that fulfilled prophecies such as being born of a virgin in Bethlehem, or going to Egypt, or being raised in Nazareth.’

Wilkins offers, by way of response:-

‘The creation of falsified historical accounts to substantiate a claim to prophetic fulfillment is not a staple of Jewish interpretive history. As a Jewish author, Matthew would not have had a precedent for such a blatant disregard for Jewish interpretation of OT prophecies. And he would have been subject to criticism from the Jewish interpretive community for falsifying predictive prophecy.

‘The apostles, including Matthew, were so gripped by the reality of Jesus as the Messiah that they suffered persecution at the hands of the Jews, and most of them later experienced martyrdom. They would not have been willing to die for a lie they themselves helped to invent.

‘When the Gospels were written and circulated, there were many people still living who had been alive when the events of Jesus’ life had occurred. They would have confronted Matthew with his fabrication. But no such record of this kind of accusation against Matthew surfaces from the ancient records.

‘The Jewish people would have used these kinds of fabrications as a way of discrediting the claims that Jesus was the Messiah. If Jesus had not been born in Bethlehem, or if his claim to being Messiah were not in line with OT prophecies, they would have been readily denied by Jews who were familiar with the details. However, we do not hear of any such accusations, not even from the Talmud, which at points speaks derogatorily about Jesus but never accuses his followers of falsification of Jesus’ life to fit messianic prophecies.’

The flight to, and return from, Egypt is, for Matthew, more than a coincidence.  The prophet’s words are not in the form of a prediction of a future event at all, but rather they look back to the Exodus.  ‘My son’ in Hos 11 is clearly Israel, and Matthew clearly wishes us to understand that Jesus is the new Israel, and this his mission will be the ultimate Messianic rescue rescue from captivity.  Mt 4:1-11, with its use of wilderness-texts, also sees Jesus as the new Israel.

Ehrman sees similarities between Matthew’s approach to OT prophecies and the so-called ‘pesher’ method of interpretation used by the Essenes in the Qumran community:

‘Like many other Jews, the Essenes who produced the Dead Sea Scrolls believed that the prophets of Scripture had spoken about events that came to transpire in their own day, centuries later.’

According to France:

‘Israel’s exodus from Egypt was taken already by the Old Testament prophets as a prefiguring of the ultimate Messianic salvation, and Matthew’s quotation here thus reinforces his presentation of the childhood history of Jesus as the dawning of the Messianic age.’

Keener insists:

‘Matthew knows the verse (Hos 11:1) quite well: indeed, instead of depending on the standard Greek translation of Hosea here, he even makes his own more correct translation from the Hebrew. If we read Matthew’s context, we see that this is not the only place where he compares Jesus with Israel: as Israel was tested in the wilderness for forty years, Jesus was tested there forty days (Matt 4:1-2). Matthew also expects his target audience to know Hosea’s context: as God once called Israel from Egypt (Hosea 11:1), he would bring about a new exodus and salvation for his people (Hosea 11:10-11). Jesus is the harbinger, the pioneer, of this new era of salvation for his people.’

Other OT texts represent the Messiah as God’s son: Ps 2:7; 89:26-27; 2 Sam 7:14; cf. Num 24:7-8, (LXX, in which God himself brings the Messiah out of Egypt).

Blomberg, however, thinks that attempts to find a messianic reference in Hosea’s use of ‘son’ seem ‘contrived and unconvincing’.

‘The original event need not have been intentionally viewed as forward-looking by the OT author; for believing Jews, merely to discern striking parallels between God’s actions in history, especially in decisive moments of revelation and redemption, could convince them of divinely intended “coincidence.”…That Israel had been delivered from Egypt, that Israel would again be exiled there but again restored, and that the child believed to be the Messiah also had to return to Israel from Egypt formed too striking a set of parallels for Matthew to attribute them to chance. God clearly was at work orchestrating the entire series of events.’ (Commentary on NT Use of OT)

Again:

‘Just as God brought the nation of Israel out of Egypt to inaugurate his original covenant with them, so again God is bringing the Messiah, who fulfills the hopes of Israel, out of Egypt as he is about to inaugurate his new covenant.’

According to Carson (EBC)

‘Jesus is often presented in the NT as the antitype of Israel, or better, the typological recapitulation of Israel. For example, Jesus’ temptation after forty days of fasting recapitulated the forty years’ trial of Israel. Pharaoh had to let Israel go because Israel was the Lord’s son (Ex 4:22–23). Thus it is only fitting that Jesus also come out of Egypt as God’s Son, for already by this time he has been presented as the messianic “son of David” and, by the virginal conception, the Son of God (see also Mt 3:17).’

Carson concludes that

‘for Matthew Jesus himself is the locus of true Israel. This does not necessarily mean that God has no further purpose for racial Israel; but it does mean that the position of God’s people in the Messianic Age is determined by reference to Jesus, not race.’

In God With Us: Themes From Matthew, Carson adds:

‘Jesus is often presented in the New Testament as the antitype of Israel; that is, the true and perfect Israel who does not fail. If Israel is likened to a vine that produces disgusting fruit (Isa. 5), Jesus is the true vine who brings forth good fruit (John 15). If Israel wandered in the wilderness 40 years and was frequently disobedient in the course of many trials and temptations, Jesus was sorely tempted in the wilderness for 40 days, but was perfectly obedient (Matt. 4:1–11). Israel in the Old Testament is the Lord’s son (Exod. 4:22, 23; Jer. 31:9); but Jesus, Himself a son of Israel, indeed a son of David, was supremely the Son of God; and therefore He re-enacted or recapitulated something of the history of the “son” (the nation of Israel) whose very existence pointed forward to Him.’

Kevin DeYoung and Greg Gilbert discuss the motif of the Exodus in the New Testament:

‘When the New Testament talks about the exodus as a type of salvation, what it focuses on is not at all its political and economic aspects, but rather the picture it provided of the spiritual salvation God was bringing about. In Matthew 2:15, for example, when Matthew ties Jesus explicitly to the redemption of Israel from Egypt, he doesn’t draw out any political or economic implications. Rather, he has already said that Jesus’s mission was to “save his people from their sins,” and now he’s tying the exodus itself to that aim. It’s as if he is saying, “If you think the exodus was a great redemption, you haven’t seen anything yet!” In Ephesians 1:7, too, Paul adopts this language of “redemption”— famously used to describe the exodus— and puts it again in terms of salvation from sin: “In him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of our trespasses.” Similarly in Colossians 1:13–14, the apostle evokes the exodus with the imagery of Christians being taken out of Satan’s kingdom: “He has delivered us from the domain of darkness and transferred us to the kingdom of his beloved Son, in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins.” Again, the language and imagery of exodus are used to talk not about political and economic redemption, but about spiritual redemption.’

Kevin DeYoung, Greg Gilbert. What Is the Mission of the Church? (p. 80). Crossway. Kindle Edition.

Greg Boyd (Cross Vision) argues from Matthew’s quotation of Hosea that it is legitimate to look for, and find in Scripture, meanings that the original readers cannot have understood:

‘Interpreted in the light of Christ, Hosea’s statement can be seen as anticipating, and thereby pointing to, Jesus’s exodus from Egypt. And Matthew is making this point because his Gospel is focused on portraying Jesus as the fulfillment of all of God’s plans for Israel.’

This is fair enough.  However, to extrapolate from this (as Boyd does) to the view that the message of Jesus (especially that of his cross) actually reverses the meaning of many OT texts, is a dubious procedure, to say the least.

Mt 2:16 – ‘When Herod saw that he had been tricked by the wise men, he became enraged. He sent men to kill all the children in Bethlehem and throughout the surrounding region from the age of two and under, according to the time he had learned from the wise men.’

Critics such as Ehrman (Jesus, Interrupted) cast doubt on the historicity of this cruel incident because it lacks clear independent support from contemporary historical accounts.

Dave Allen argues that:

• The story is based on Pharaoh’s attempt to kill the Israelite children.  This would be in keeping with Matthew’s modelling of many of his stories in Moses.
• The ‘Messiah ossuary’, discovered in Jerusalem in 1971, is thought to have ‘belonging to the house of David’ inscribed on the rim.  This discovery has prompted an analysis of a passage in the ‘Antiquities’ of Josephus, according to which the slave-wife of Herod the Great’s brother, Pheroras, may have been of Davidic descent, and that the Pharisees hoped that she would give birth to the Messiah.  As a result, Herod slaughtered all those involved.  (Allen calls this a ‘precedent’, but if it is so, then it difficult to see how it can be used to argue against the historicity of Matthew’s account.)
• It is also well known that Herod slaughtered Jewish children, but these were his own offspring, rather than those from Bethlehem and its surroundings.

Jonathan Pearce (The Nativity: a Critical Examination) adopts a similarly sceptical approach.  Pearce quotes David Fitzgerald:

‘It beggars belief to think anyone would have missed an outrage as big as the massacre of every infant boy in the area around a town just 6 miles from Jerusalem—and yet there is no corroboration for it in any account, Jewish, Greek or Roman. It’s not even found in any of the other Gospels—only Matthew’s.’

No: it doesn’t ‘beggar belief’.  And as for the observation that the account is absent from Mark, Luke and John, an obvious part of the reply is to point out that Mark and John contain no accounts of the Nativity.

Pearce proceeds to quote Peter Richardson:

‘It seems likely that Herod’s killing of his own children prompted the report of his murder of a larger group of children.’

But this is simply to admit that the slaughter of the children was entirely in keeping with what is know about Herod, and therefore makes it more, rather than less, likely that the account is historically accurate.

Pearce conjectures that the author of the First Gospel has conflated what was known about Herod’s bloodthirstiness with the story of the killing of the Egyptian first-borns at the time of the Passover.

However, it would have been regarded by most people at the time as ‘a minor incident in a period full of atrocities.’ (France), and not worthy of a place in the history books of the time.  The killing of a few babies (given the population of Bethlehem and its environs at the time, the number may have been as few as 12) is perfectly consistent with his known character.  Constantly suspecting treachery, he killed his wife, three sons, and a number of other relatives.  Josephus records that when Herod near to death, he ordered that one member of every family should be killed, to ensure that the nation was really in mourning (mercifully, that order was not carried out).  (See the comments of David Hilborn, www.christiantoday.com).

Regarding the ‘argument from silence’, Lydia McGrew notes:

‘Examples abound of cases where we would think a certain writer would surely have reported a certain event or fact, yet he does not do so. Ulysses S. Grant in his memoirs never mentions the Emancipation Proclamation. Should this cause us to doubt other sources that tell us that Lincoln issued it? Obviously not. Two contemporary Romans who describe the eruption of Vesuvius fail to mention the destruction of Pompeii. The church historian Eusebius apparently deliberately suppressed the Emperor Constantine’s brutal killing of his wife Fausta and his son Crispus. No doubt Eusebius had his political reasons for doing so, not wholly laudable, but the point is that his mere silence in no way means that Constantine did not carry out the killings. Grafton’s highly regarded English Chronicles discuss the reign of King John but never mention Magna Carta. Marco Polo never mentions the Great Wall of China.’ (The Eye Of The Beholder)

Specifically, sceptics complain that the incident is not mentioned by Josephus.  According to this source, Josephus declares that he is being selective in which of Herod’s atrocities he mentions.  And it would be in neither Josephus’ or his Roman audience’s interest to mention this event, which was so sympathetic to the Christian message.

More idiosyncratic than sceptical, Gundry imagines that the Evangelist:

‘pursues Mosaic typology…with an episode corresponding to Pharaoh’s slaughtering the male babies of the Israelites at the time of Moses· birth (Exod 1:15-22). To do so, he changes the sacrificial slaying of “a pair of turtledoves or two young pigeons,”‘ which took place at the presentation of the baby Jesus in the Temple (Luke 2:24), into Herod’s slaughtering the babies in Bethlehem.’

Keener (The Gospel of Matthew) catalogues Herod’s known atrocities (I quote verbatim, but with added bulleting and without the references to ancient sources):

• When Herod’s young brother-in-law was becoming too popular, he had a “drowning accident” in what archaeology shows was a rather shallow pool;
• later, Herod had falsely suspected officials cudgeled to death.
• Wrongly suspecting two of his sons of plotting against him, he had them strangled…
• Likewise, five days before his own death Herod, on his own deathbed, had a more treacherous, Absalom-like son executed…
• In a fit of jealous rage (which he later regretted) he had his favorite wife strangled; she turned out to be innocent of the crime of which he had accused her.
• He had religious men who had tampered with his golden eagle burned alive…
• Fearing lest his people would not mourn at his death, he reportedly ordered that nobles from throughout the land be executed when he died to ensure mourning on that day…(Instead they were freed, leading to rejoicing)…In an era of many, highly placed political murders, the execution of perhaps twenty children in a small town would warrant little attention.

Green:

‘To be sure, there is no independent record of this particular atrocity, but it is mild in comparison with some of Herod’s other massacres. He slaughtered the last remnants of the Hasmonean dynasty of Jewish high-priestly kings who had ruled before him. He executed more than half the Sanhedrin. He killed 300 court officers out of hand. He executed his own Hasmonean wife, Mariamne, her mother Alexandra, and his sons Aristobulus, Alexander and Antipater. Finally, as he lay dying, he arranged for all the notable men of Jerusalem to be assembled in the hippodrome and killed as soon as his own death was announced. A man of ruthless cruelty and with a fanatical neurosis about any competition, it is quite in character that he should order the execution of the male children in Bethlehem. It was not a big place; there would probably have been only thirty or so of them, and their deaths would not have made a ripple on the history of the day.’

It feels callous to try to estimate how many little boys may have been killed.  But here are a few thoughts.  Only 123 men returned to Bethlehem after the Babylonian exile (Ezra 2:21).  It appears to have grown into a village of perhaps 1,000 people by the time of Jesus’ birth.  In this case, around a dozen or so boys were slaughtered.  (Jonathan Pearce’s idea that the number must have been fairly large because it is called a ‘massacre’ is clearly absurd.)

This is tragedy enough for the village, but not headline news in the light of the other events in Herod’s turbulent career: ‘Herod murdered his own sons and his wife Mariamne and ordered that 2,000 Jewish leaders be executed after his death so that the nation would mourn him, although this order was not carried out.’ (Holman Apologetics Commentary)

Tidball (p119) refers to the account of ‘the slaughter of the innocents’ as

‘the starting-gun of hostility that would eventually lead Jesus to the cross. When Herod heard that wise men from the east were searching for “one who has been born king of the Jews” (Mt 2:2), he immediately sensed a threat to his reign and took steps to remove it (Mt 2:16-18). In ordering the massacre of the baby boys of Bethlehem, Herod was both acting in character and signalling a conflict between his way of doing things – typical of power-obsessed worldly rulers – and the way of King Jesus. This conflict grew in intensity until Jesus was arrested, tried and executed by those worldly rulers.’

Regarding the apparent lack of corroborating evidence for this cruel act, C.E.B. Cranfield wonders if it is recollected in the pseudepigraphal Assumption of Moses (AD 6-30):

‘And he [Herod] will cut off their chief men with the sword, and he will destroy [them] in secret places, so that no one may know where their bodies are.  He will slay the old and the young, and he shall not spare.  Then the fear of him shall be bitter unto them in the land.  And he shall execute judgments on them as the Egyptians executed upon them, during thirty and four years, and he shall punish them.’

.

‘[Joseph] came to a town called Nazareth and lived there. Then what had been spoken by the prophets was fulfilled, that Jesus would be called a Nazarene.‘

Where does it say in the prophets ‘that Jesus would be called a Nazarene’?

This wording is not to be found in any of the prophets.  In fact, Nazareth is not mentioned at all in the Old Testament.  Bethlehem, on the other hand, had a higher status as the ‘city of David’.

Some have thought that Matthew is using word-play.  Back in the 5th century AD Jerome connected Mt 2:23 with the messianic prophecy found in Isa 11:1, where the word for ‘branch’ is ‘Neser‘.  Now, this same word is the Hebrew form of the name ‘Nazareth’.  Matthew’s sense would be that the lowly off-shoot will come from the lowly ‘off-shoot’ town of Nazareth.  This interpretation is supported by Wright.  However, it seems rather stretched, although it is supported by a number of modern commentators.

One clue is that Matthew says that it was written in the ‘prophets’ (plural).  Therefore, we might suppose that Matthew is giving the overall sense of the prophets, rather than any specific prophecy.

Another possible clue is that, rather than using the participle ‘saying’ Matthew uses the conjunction hoti, suggesting that this is an indirect quotation.

France (TNTC) thinks that this is not intended to be a specific quotation, but rather a summary of prophetic expectation.  Accordingly, it is possible that Matthew

‘saw in the obscurity of Nazareth the fulfilment of Old Testament indications of a humble and rejected Messiah; for Jesus to be known by the derogatory epithet Nazōraios (cf. John 1:46) was not compatible with the expected royal dignity of the Messiah, and thus fulfilled such passages as Psalm 22; Isaiah 53; Zechariah 11:4–14.’

Carson adopts a similar interpretation:

‘First-century Christian readers of Matthew, who had tasted their share of scorn, would have quickly caught Matthew’s point. He is not saying that a particular OT prophet foretold that the Messiah would live in Nazareth; he is saying that the OT prophets foretold that the Messiah would be despised (cf. Pss. 22:6-8, 13; 69:8, 20-21; Isa 11:1; 49:7; 53:2-3, 8; Da 9:26). The theme is repeatedly picked up by Matthew (e.g., Mt 8:20; 11:16-19; 15:7-8; see Turner). In other words Matthew gives us the substance of several OT passages, not a direct quotation.’ (EBC, 2nd ed.)

Morris:

‘It appears that Matthew is drawing attention to the thrust of Old Testament prophecy about the Christ rather than to any one passage. Jesus went to Galilee so that what was written about him in the prophets would be fulfilled, and we see this in his being called a Nazarene, a citizen of an obscure and unimportant town. Had he been known as “Jesus of Bethlehem” he would have had the aura of one who came from the royal city; there would have been overtones of messianic majesty. But “Jesus the Nazarene” carried with it overtones of contempt. We are to understand the prophets as pointing to one who would be despised and rejected, and Jesus as fulfilling this by his connection with obscure Nazareth.’

The sense is that, just as someone who came from Nazareth would have been regarded as contemptible (see Jn 1:46; 7:52; Acts 24:5), so the prophets had said that the Messiah would be despised, Psa 22:6–8, 13; 69:8, 20–21; Isa 11:1; 49:7; 53:2–3, 8; Dan 9:26; Zec 11:4-14.

In conclusion, Matthew knows, and his readers know, that Jesus came from Bethlehem.  That was a place with a ring to it, for it was the birth-place of King David.  Matthew knows, and his readers know, that Jesus was born in Bethlehem precisely because Joseph (and therefore Jesus, by law) was a descendant of King David.

But the family settled, not in Bethlehem, but in Nazareth.  And there was no ring to that place-name.  There was no kudos in being a Nazarene.  In fact, to same that someone came from Nazareth was to say that they were of no importance.

No prophet so much as mentions Nazareth.  But what they do say is that the Messiah would be ‘despised’ and of no account.  He would be ‘called a Nazarene’.

And this is borne out by the rest of the New Testament.  The Saviour is known, not as ‘Jesus of Bethlehem’, but, ‘Jesus of Nazareth’.

From time to time, places come to be associated with particular traits.  One such example is Sodom/Sodomite (cf. 1 Cor 6:9; 1 Tim 1:10), and another is Corinth/Corinthianise.

As for the possible objection that it is nowhere recorded that Jesus was actually called a ‘Nazarene’, the repsonse must be that in Scripture language, ‘to be called’ is often the equivalent of ‘shall be’.  In Mt 1:23, ‘his name shall be Emmanuel’ means that he bears the nature of ‘God with us’ (his actual, literal name, being ‘Jesus’, of course).  See this.

Peter Mead helpfully sets out the New Testament witness to this appellation, beginning with Matthew:

Matthew mentions Nazareth three more times. After a passing reference in Mt 4:13-16, then comes Mt 21:11. Jesus’ triumphal entry so stirred Jerusalem that the locals asked the crowds who he was. The visiting Galilean crowds replied that this was the prophet Jesus, from Nazareth. Probably not what the locals wanted to hear!

Finally, in 26:71, Peter was in the courtyard of Annas’ house when he was identified as an accomplice of Jesus of Nazareth. Was there venom in that label? Probably, since Peter was again confronted due to his Galilean accent. To be from Nazareth was not a positive thing in Judea. In fact, it was not a good thing, even in Galilee!

What about the rest of the New Testament?

Jesus was a very common name at that time, so he needed an identifier. Who was his Dad? That was complicated. What was his job? Again, not easy. So where was he from? Nazareth became the label typically appended to his name.

We see Nazareth mentioned in Jesus’ childhood (Luke 2:51); as he called His disciples (John 1:45-46) – remember Nathanael’s sarcastic question: ‘can anything good come out of Nazareth?’; as the location of choice for launching his preaching ministry (Luke 4:16).

His subsequent visit to a synagogue in Capernaum sees him identified as Jesus of Nazareth by an unclean spirit, who also acknowledges that he is the Holy One of God. Jesus accepts the label, but silences the spirit once his heavenly identity is declared (Mark 1:24-25; Luke 4:34-35).

As Jesus headed toward Jerusalem, blind Bartimaeus recognizes the Nazareth label (Mark 10:47; Luke 18:37-38); then it is used in His arrest, (John 18:5); during Jesus’ trial it is used disparagingly of Peter (see also Mark 14:67); and even in his death, Pilate’s inscription reads, “Jesus of Nazareth, the King of the Jews.”

After his resurrection the two disconsolate disciples on the road to Emmaus refer to Jesus as being ‘of Nazareth’ (Luke 24:19). Fair enough, their hopes had been dashed.

But even the angel in the tomb used the label! Surely an angel sent from God could come up with something better!? (Mark 16:6)

Even after his ascension Jesus continues to bear the lowly label ‘of Nazareth.’ Peter’s Pentecost sermon climaxes with Jesus as Lord and Christ, but it launches with Jesus of Nazareth (Acts 2:22).

The lame man is healed, not in the name of the risen and ascended Christ, but in the name of Jesus of Nazareth (Acts 3:6; 4:10). Stephen’s accusers use the label (Acts 6:14). Peter tells Gentiles that God anointed and was with the Nazarene (Acts 10:38).

Then we discover that Jesus used the label of himself when He appeared to Paul at His conversion (Acts 22:8)! This had been the name opposed by Paul in his days of Christian persecution (Acts 26:9), and indeed even Jesus’ followers bore the disparaging label (Acts 24:5).

Peter Mead concludes:

God was with this Jesus of Nazareth. And in his willingness to carry this label in ministry up north and down south, in his arrest, his crucifixion, his resurrection and even in his ascension, this Jesus of Nazareth was most assuredly ‘with us.’

Immanuel, God with us. Not just near us, in some nice palace somewhere. But with us, like ‘in Nazareth’ with us. Jesus of Nowhere, Galilee. He came to be with us, so that he could be for us. And he is forever with us, for he still carries the lowliest of labels. It was all part of God’s plan, that He should be called a Nazarene.

Joseph’s first thought would have been to make a home in Bethlehem, or even in Jerusalem.  Each was replete with biblical promise, fitting one who would ‘save his people from their sins’.  Matthew and is readers know that Jesus was ‘of Bethlehem’.  But, as fitting one who would be ‘despised and rejected by men’ he would be known as ‘Jesus of Nazareth’.

Carson summarises:

‘Nazareth was a despised place (John 7:42, 52), even to other Galileans (cf. John 1:46). Here Jesus grew up, not as “Jesus the Bethlehemite,” with its Davidic overtones, but as “Jesus the Nazarene,” with all the opprobrium of the sneer. When Christians were referred to in Acts as the “Nazarene sect” (24:5), the expression was meant to hurt. First-century Christian readers of Matthew, who had tasted their share of scorn, would have quickly caught Matthew’s point. He is not saying that a particular OT prophet foretold that the Messiah would live in Nazareth; he is saying that the OT prophets foretold that the Messiah would be despised (cf. Pss 22:6–8, 13; 69:8, 20–21; Isa 11:1; 49:7; 53:2–3, 8; Dan 9:26). The theme is repeatedly picked up by Matthew (e.g., Mt 8:20; 11:16–19; 15:7–8). In other words Matthew gives us the substance of several OT passages, not a direct quotation (so also Ezra 9:10–12).’

Bruner, similarly:

‘I like to think that the Nazorean promised through Matthew’s plural “prophets” was, in short, the lowly Messiah, the Suffering Servant of God whose roots were transplanted first from Bethlehem to Egypt, and then from Egypt into the parched ground of Nazareth. He came to take a low place in history with us and for us, just as he submitted to baptism with all the sinners (Mt 3:13–17). Even the town where he would grow up, the town that became half his name, indicates half the truth about him (his true humanity), the truth that is later nailed over his head on the wood, “Jesus of Nazareth [his lowliness], the King of the Jews [his majesty]” (John 19:19).’ (Bruner)

Bruner adds:

‘He who in chap. 1 was regally called “God Saves” and “The With-Us-God” but who now in chap. 2 is uniformly and more modestly called “The Child” and “Jesus of Nazareth” will, by chap. 27, be mocked on the cross and in the next-to-last chapter be called “that impostor” (27:63). We descend in the first two chapters of this Gospel from Jesus’ deity in Mt 1:23 (= Isa 7:14) to his humanity in Mt 2:23 (= Isa 11:1). Given the character of God, it is likely that if God did visit earth the visit would be like this—in great modesty. Luke underlined this modesty by speaking of a manger, Matthew by speaking of a barrio [obscure settlement].’

[N.B. Bruner is favouring here a link, via word-play, between Isa 11:1 and the present saying.