Article
Christmas culture
Creed
4 min read

A blatantly supernatural story 

A friends’ walk leads to a discussion on the plausibility of the virgin birth. Surgeon David Cranston seeks wisdom about a phenomenon that defies rationality.

David Cranston is emeritus Professor of Surgery at Oxford University. As well as publishing academically, he has has also authored books on John Radcliffe, and mentoring.

A two sided altarpiece painting shows an angel kneeling on on one side and a Madonna on the right hand side.
Kneeling, the Archangel Gabriel greets the Virgin at the moment of Christ's Incarnation. The Annunciation, Paolo Veneziano.
Getty Museum.

I am a member of a couple of walking groups. Many of my friends like golf and have been trying to encourage me to play and, although my golfing friends have tried hard over the years, I do agree with Mark Twain who thought of golf as a good walk spoiled. 

My walking groups have rules. Both tend to be in the morning, with a pub lunch. One group set up in 2004 is strict - main course only, beer no wine. The other started in 2022 is laxer with two courses with beer and wine allowed. 

The walk and lunch allow time for discussion free of mobile phones, iPads, internet and computers and consequently with full, rather than partial attention given to the discussion. 

Religion and politics are allowed. At one lunchtime, discussion on Christmas led to one senior lawyer remarking that the term ‘virgin’ in the pages of the gospels may just mean a ‘young woman’. He went on to say:  

“That would alter the interpretation of the New Testament somewhat!”   

He said it as if it was a relatively new discovery. 

Actually, it is quite old, because the first person to think that was Joseph, Mary’s betrothed husband.  

Matthew explains in the first chapter of his gospel that when Joseph found that Mary was pregnant, because he was faithful to the law, and yet did not want to expose her to public disgrace, he had in mind to divorce her quietly.  

In those days betrothal could only be broken by divorce. Joseph knew he was not the father. 

On one occasion CS Lewis was in discussion with a colleague who stated that:  

 ‘The early Christians believed that Christ was the Son of a virgin, but we know that this is a scientific impossibility.’ 

Lewis asked him to elaborate, and he went on to say:  

 “In those days the belief in miracles arose at a period when men were so ignorant of the course of nature that they did not perceive a miracle to be contrary to it.”  

Lewis replied that this was nonsense and replied: 

“When St Joseph discovered that his fiancée was going to have a baby, he not unnaturally decided to repudiate her. Why? Because he knew just as well as any modern gynaecologist that in the ordinary course of nature women do not have babies unless they have lain with men. No doubt the modern gynaecologist knows several things about birth and begetting which St Joseph did not know. But those things do not concern the main point – that a virgin birth is contrary to the course of nature. And St Joseph obviously knew that. In any sense in which it is true to say now, ‘the thing is scientifically impossible,’ he would have said the same. The thing always was, and was always known to be, impossible unless the regular processes of nature were, in this particular case, being over-ruled or supplemented by something from beyond nature.” 

Lewis goes on to elaborate: 

“But once and for a special purpose, God dispensed with that long line which is his instrument. Once His life-giving finger touched a woman without passing through the ages of interlocked events. Once the great glove of nature was taken off His hand. His naked hand touched her. There was of course a unique reason for it. That time he was creating not simply a man, but The Man, who was to be Himself: He was creating man anew: He was beginning at this divine and human point, the New Creation of all things. The whole soiled and weary universe quivered at this direct injection of essential life – direct, uncontaminated, untainted, through all the crowded history of Nature.” 

And Donald McLeod, a Scottish theologian, in a Christmastide sermon some years ago said: 

“The virgin birth is posted on guard at the door of the mystery of Christmas, and none of us must think of turning past it. It shows it stands on the threshold of the New Testament. Blatantly supernatural, defying our rationalisation, informing us that all follows belongs to the same order as itself, and if we find it offensive there is no point in proceeding further. If the virgin birth falls, the integrity of the Gospels is undermined.” 

There are many things in life that we may not be able to explain. Just because we cannot believe something it does not mean it is not true. There are many things in this life that are unbelievable. I guess it all depends on our understanding of the nature of God. 

Events
Identity
Politics
S&U interviews
4 min read

June 3: Esau McCaulley and Graham Tomlin - get tickets now

Join us in London as we explore today's cultural moments.

Belle is the staff writer at Seen & Unseen and co-host of its Re-enchanting podcast.

A man talks to a camera with his hands together palms up and his finger interlaced.
Esau McCaulley on the Re-enchanting podcast.

Meet Esau and us

Seen and Unseen is hosting an incredibly rare event: Bishop Graham Tomlin in Conversation with Esau McCaulley on 3rd June, at St Mellitus College, 24 Collingham Road, Earl’s Court, London starting at 7.30pm .

As well as hearing more of Esau’s story, this conversation will cover the place of faith in public life, the significance of the black church, US politics, and this cultural moment. Trust me, you don’t want to miss this. I have had a couple of conversations with Esau McCaulley, and they have re-arranged the theological air I breathe.  

You can find out more about Esau on his web site and read his New York Times columns. Or listen to my interview with him, as part of our Re-enchanting podcast.  

Places will be limited, get further details and reserve your (free) ticket on Eventbrite.

 

Belle Tindall writes...

How does one wrestle their faith out of the hands of those who used it as tool to enslave them? How does one keep hold of such a faith when the owner of the local plantation was also the pastor of the local Presbyterian church? When the people who filled the pews were also the people who turned up to the KKK rallies? And how do the descendants of those people wade through the cultural and spiritual residue of such a history? Wrestling, still, with the complex evil that defined their ancestors' days?  

And how does one respond when Donald Trump, the likely Republican presidential candidate, endorses a God Bless America Bible as some kind political strategy? What does one do when their community are being peddled their own sacred book, this particular edition of which includes the American Constitution, the Bill of Rights, the Declaration of Independence, the Pledge of Allegiance and the lyrics of a country song also entitled God Bless the USA? Oh, it also has the American flag emblazoned across the front. For good measure, I suppose.  

And finally, how does one look out at an increasingly secular culture and remain confident that what it really needs is to be reminded of an ancient Galilean carpenter, as if he’s still some kind of relevant solution to our deepest hopes and fears?  

These questions have something in common: they have been, and are continuing to be, answered by Esau McCaulley.  

Answered honestly.  

Answered powerfully. 

Answered ever so publicly.  

Last year, Esau was named by the Washington Post as one of the most influential faith leaders in the USA. He is a New York Times contributor and a New Testament Professor at Wheaton College, he is also the author of the award-winning Reading While Black and his latest best-selling memoir, How Far to the Promised Land? What began as a eulogy for Esau’s (rather complicated) father became ‘one black family’s story of hope and survival in the American south’. The eulogy was unapologetically complex, and so is this book. It was unwaveringly honest, and so is this book. It was utterly profound, and so is this book.  

Esau, when reflecting on his own history, stretches for truth, refusing to relax into comfortable simplicities or false binaries that don’t belong in reality. Writing this memoir cost Esau something. You can tell. The grace woven into the paragraphs did not come cheap.  

This book, as Esau himself explains, is about his father, but his father is a metaphor for America. And so, when it comes to this book (and much of Esau’s work), the political makes its home within the personal; the story that Esau tells is, to an extent, a trojan horse. A challenging commentary of America is sitting within this book’s pages. Esau is clear, his father – who continued to leave a trail of trauma in his wake – made bad decisions. But society played a significant role in creating the context within which those decisions were made. Were the poor decisions his father made down to personal responsibility or was it structural injustice? Esau’s answer? ‘Yes’.  

Again, he has an aversion to binaries that don’t belong in reality.  

To borrow an Elizabeth Oldfield phrase that I cannot stop thinking about: this book tells us something of our brokenness and our ‘breaking-things-ness’. And, as Esau writes,  

‘patience with broken people and broken things is a manifestation of trust in God’ 

And Esau seems to have a lot of patience. Patience with himself, patience with his father, patience with Rev. Matthew Bone, owner of the Bone planation where his ancestors were enslaved, patience with those who have hurt him, patience with us all.   

And that, it seems to me, has bred a persistence in hope. Real, gritty, bruised and yet still beating, joy-filled hope. The kind of hope that can look at the God Bless America Bible and not face-palm. The kind of hope that can research the links between Christianity and slavery and not fall into spiritual crisis. The kind that can observe the theory that faith is losing its place in public life and can use a New York Times column to prove it wrong.  

Ultimately, the kind of hope that the world is increasingly paying attention to.