Tuesday, December 2, 2025

Jesus according to Josephus

“[A] gripping read and triumph of careful philology that will change views of the importance and reliability of this long-debated passage. It certainly changed mine”. —Jack Tannous, Associate Professor of History and Hellenic Studies at Princeton University Home - Josephus & Jesus Josephus & Jesus. New Evidence for the One Called Christ …. This book brings to light an extraordinary connection between Jesus of Nazareth and the Jewish historian Josephus. Writing in 93/94 CE, Josephus composed an account of Jesus known as the Testimonium Flavianum. Despite this being the oldest description of Jesus by a non-Christian, scholars have long doubted its authenticity due to the alleged pro-Christian claims it contains. The present book, however, authenticates Josephus’s authorship of the Testimonium Flavianum and then reveals a startling observation: Josephus was directly familiar with those who put Jesus on trial. Consequently, Josephus would have had access to highly reliable information about the man from Nazareth. The book concludes by describing what Josephus tells us about the Jesus of history, his miracles, and his resurrection. —T. C. Schmidt (PhD, Yale University) Visiting Fellow, Princeton University, James Madison Program (2025-2026) Associate Professor, Fairfield University What Scholars Are Saying ________________________________________ An astonishingly new intervention into what had seemed to be a settled consensus…[an] erudite study — Annette Yoshiko Reed, Professor of Divinity and Professor of New Testament and Early Christianity, Harvard Divinity School An extraordinary scholarly achievement… impressive philological acumen — Tobias Hägerland, Senior Lecturer at the University of Gothenburg, Sweden “[A] gripping read and triumph of careful philology that will change views of the importance and reliability of this long-debated passage. It certainly changed mine. —Jack Tannous, Associate Professor of History and Hellenic Studies at Princeton University Josephus and Jesus: New Evidence for the One Called Christ T C Schmidt Published: 5 May 2025 Abstract This book brings to light an extraordinary connection between Jesus of Nazareth and the Jewish historian Josephus. Writing in 93/4 ce, Josephus composed an account of Jesus known as the Testimonium Flavianum. Despite this being the oldest description of Jesus written by a non-Christian, scholars have long doubted its authenticity due to the alleged pro-Christian claims it contains. The present book, however, authenticates Josephus’ authorship and then reveals a startling discovery. First, the opening chapters demonstrate that ancient Christians read the Testimonium Flavianum quite differently from modern scholars, considering it to be basically mundane or even vaguely negative, and hence far from the pro-Christian rendering that most scholars have interpreted it to be. This suggests that the Testimonium Flavianum was indeed written by a non-Christian. The book then employs stylometric analysis to demonstrate that the Testimonium Flavianum closely matches Josephus’ style. The Testimonium Flavianum appears, therefore, to be genuinely authored by Josephus. The final chapters explore Josephus’ sources of information about Jesus, revealing a remarkable discovery: Josephus was directly familiar with those who attended the trials of Jesus’ apostles and even those who attended the trial of Jesus himself. The book concludes by describing what Josephus tells us about the Jesus of history, particularly regarding how the stories of Jesus’ miracles and his resurrection developed.

Wednesday, November 26, 2025

The power of the Miraculous Medal

‘Is it possible that our enemies should display such activity and gain superior strength, while we remain idle, without getting down to work? Do we not have even stronger weapons, namely the protec¬tion of heaven and of the Immaculate Virgin?’ Saint Maximilian Kolbe We read in the following article: Maximilian Kolbe and the Miraculous Medal | Militia Immaculatae Maximilian Kolbe and the Miraculous Medal (Excerpt of the book “The Immaculate, our ideal”) As an outward sign of membership in the [Militia Immaculatæ), the Knight of the Immaculata wears her Miraculous Medal. We human beings are not only spirit, but also body. Our interior life, our ideal and mentality must be perceptible from outside, must be expressed in our external life. Therefore outward signs are necessary in order to bring the interior disposition to light. The Savior willed to grant His graces to people pre¬cisely through such “sacred signs”, namely the Sacraments. In a similar manner the Knight of the Immaculata must also make an outward pro¬fession. The Miraculous Medal is the outward sign of the interior Total Consecration to the Immaculata. Furthermore, as a weapon in the battle for souls he distributes these medals wherever he can. The Miraculous Medal should be the weapon, the bullet, which the Knight of the Immaculata makes use of. Even if someone is as wicked as can be, if he agrees to wear the Miraculous Medal, give it to him and pray for him, and occasionally try with a kind word to bring him to the point where he begins to love the Mother of God and to fly to her in all his difficulties and temptations. But anyone who sincerely begins to pray to the Immaculata will soon be con¬vinced to go to Confession as well. There is much evil in the world, yet let us consider that the Immaculata is even more powerful: “She will crush the head of the infernal serpent.” Isn’t such a practice somewhat exaggerated? How is it that the founder of the M.I. places so much trust in such an external thing? We should reply, first, that the very origin of the M.I. is closely related to a great miracle that was worked through the Miraculous Medal, namely the conversion of a Jewish man, Alphonse de Ratisbonne. In the year in which the M.I. was founded (1917), the seventy-fifth anniversary of this great miracle was being celebrated in Rome. Young Brother Maximil¬ian had already asked himself the question long before that: Is it possible that our enemies should display such activity and gain superior strength, while we remain idle, without getting down to work? Do we not have even stronger weapons, namely the protec¬tion of heaven and of the Immaculate Virgin? He found out the answer on that memorable twentieth of January, when the superior of the house presented to them the story of the impenitent Jew’s conversion as a theme for meditation. In that medita¬tion, as Father Pal, his friend and co-founder of the M.I. attests, the Saint received the inspiration to found a knighthood in honor of the Immaculata, which chose the Miraculous Medal as its emblem and shield for the future Knights. From that day on, Brother Maximilian often visited the church of Sant’Andrea delle Fratte in order to pray before the altar where Alphonse de Ratisbonne had converted. He also chose that altar as the one upon which he would offer the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass for the first time after his priestly ordination. Furthermore Fr. Maximilian often used to tell his friars about truly extraordinary incidents that he himself had experienced with the Mirac¬ulous Medal. For example, one time while he was recuperating in Zako¬pane he tried to convert a young Freethinker who proudly called him¬self “the Heretic”. All arguments were in vain. Nevertheless, out of courtesy he accept¬ed the Miraculous Medal. Immediately afterwards I suggested that he make a confession. “I am not prepared. By no means,” was his reply. But … at that very moment he fell on his knees, as though impelled by a higher power. The confession began; the young man wept like a child. The Immaculata had won. …. \Naturally, the cause of this miraculous change in a human heart was not the medal itself as a physical object, but rather the Immaculata, who attaches her special graces to the wearing of the Miraculous Medal. And there were many, many such incidents in the life of St. Maximilian. Therefore: Distribute her Medal, wherever there is an opportunity: to chil¬dren, so that they will always wear it around their necks; to the elderly and the youth, so that they, under her protection, might have enough strength to resist the temptations and falls that par¬ticularly beset them in our times. And also to those who do not go to Church, or who are afraid to go to Confession, who make fun of religious practices, who laugh at the truths of the faith, who are mired in a moral swamp or are living outside the Church in heresy – to all of these people you absolutely must offer the Medal of the Immaculata and ask them to wear it, but then fervently beg the Immaculata also for their conversion. Many people make use of another expedient when someone is reluctant to accept the Miracu¬lous Medal. They just sew it secretly into his or her clothing and pray for that person, and sooner or later the Immaculata will show what she is capable of. The Miraculous Medal is the ammunition of the M.I.

Tuesday, November 25, 2025

St. Joseph of Arimathea wrongly tied to Britain

“Meanwhile, in the West a scribal insert began Joseph’s new career, which ultimately transported him to “Britain”—really Britio Edessenorum, place of the shroud icon—with an object known as the Holy Grail”. Daniel Scavone In his perceptive article, “Joseph of Arimathea, the Holy Grail and the Edessa Icon” (http://www.shroud.it/SCAVONE1.PDF’), author Daniel Scavone will arrive at the following reasonable conclusion: SUMMARY AND CONCLUSION The links of my hypothesis are in place. Edessa possessed from the fourth century a cloth icon of Jesus' face (attested by artists' copies), later verified as a life-sized icon of his body. It had been folded and encased so as to reveal only his face, in essence disguised, and later hidden away. Lucius Abgar VIII (177-212), first Christian king of Edessa and in touch with Rome, may have received it (I won't insist on this), along with the missionaries he himself requested (letter of King Lucius to Pope Eleutherus). In the fourth century it was given a fabricated aetiology as a face-only icon that had arrived in Edessa in the first century (Teaching of Addai). From the sixth century on, it was suggested, then eye-witnessed, as larger and gradually documented as Jesus' burial cloth. The burial cloth of Good Friday was intimately associated with Joseph of Arimathea. The object in question at the time the Grail romances were written was somehow known to be associated with Joseph. Meanwhile, in the West a scribal insert began Joseph's new career, which ultimately transported him to "Britain"—really Britio Edessenorum, place of the shroud icon—with an object known as the Holy Grail. The two objects share significant virtually identical properties. The cloth is unique among Byzantine icons as the Holy Grail is unique. All the links would indicate that the key elements of the Grail romances derive from Byzantine sources, particularly those that relate to Edessa’s icon, the Mandylion. Let us consider the Grail's secret from the point of view of a medieval Christian. As cup of the Last Supper and container of the blood of Jesus, believed to be God incarnate, it is already so awesome as not to require the embellishment of some further, anticlimactic secret. So why a secret in the first place? It only makes sense if the Grail, alias the Mandylion, truly contained a further mystery in the revelation of its real contents: the gradually appearing body of crucified Jesus of the Mandylion’s ritual. Finally, that eighth-century Georgian manuscript--it antedates by centuries every Christian Grail narrative--may alone contain the truth: Par. 16 says , "I [Joseph] climbed Holy Golgotha, where the Lord's Cross stood, and I collected in . . . the large shroud the precious blood that had flowed from His holy side." …. Please see again Robert de Boron's version of this event, which simply substitutes the Grail for the shroud. In the apocryphal tradition about Joseph of Arimathea, then, before Joseph's Holy Grail as cup of Jesus' blood, there was Joseph's cloth in which he had captured the blood of Golgotha. Britium's face icon (Mandylion) was over time identified as a burial shroud icon of the body of crucified Jesus. The mysterious tenth-century ritual in Britium/Edessa and the new twelfth-century Byzantine Melismos service, inspired respectively by the presence of this reputed burial wrap, portrayed the infant Jesus becoming the adult Jesus, sacrificial victim of the Last Supper and Passion. The romance Holy Grail also revealed the mystery of the infant Jesus changing to the body of crucified Jesus. Was this the secret of the Holy Grail? Was the Grail's secret the Mandylion's secret?

Sunday, November 23, 2025

Hope after suicide – the Divine Mercy

“We should not despair of the eternal salvation of persons who have taken their own lives. … God can provide the opportunity for salutary repentance. The Church prays for persons who have taken their own lives”. Catechism of the Catholic Church We read at: Divine Mercy: A Catholic Response to Suicide — Joy In Truth this consoling article by Victoria Gisondi (2019): Divine Mercy: A Catholic Response to Suicide Photo by Claudia Aracama. …. After my brother’s suicide, I spent Lent crying before the Blessed Sacrament. Everything was thrown into disorder. Was there hope? The Catholic response to these life-shattering events is Divine Mercy. Yes, there’s always hope. …. My brother took his life. It happened in January. His death was an earthquake, uprooting any sense of safety and stability I formerly had. I have not gone through the stages of grief in order. There is no order to disorder. And suicide is so terribly disordered. It creates complicated grief in the casualties it leaves behind. It wasn’t at all like my father’s death by cancer five years before. This death was violent and shocking. It was mysterious and horrible in that it was deliberate and self-imposed. Families are often torn asunder and scattered after death. The secondary wounds can be more painful than the original one. Suicide compounds that. Thoughts and dreams are invaded with manic ruminations and rescue fantasies. Those thoughts spill over into conversation and conversation turns into blame. We were seven siblings. I was between the two boys. Three sisters stopped talking to two sisters. The last living brother kept himself far removed. A narcissistic ex spouse pushed the right buttons from the sidelines, enjoying the show. The fault lines in our fragile foundation cracked irreversibly. Our mother immediately sought refuge in the sacraments. She spent hours in adoration and at daily mass. As for me, I wanted to escape the present moment. The reality that I could not rewind time was too painful. I drank a lot in those days. A priest at confession told me to enter the desert with Jesus. I was a bitter swamp of sorrow, alcohol and rejection. A desert with Jesus sounded like a welcome oasis from a swamp—clean and dry. So, lent was spent crying before the Blessed Sacrament. At mass was where I felt closest to my father and brother. The passion, death and resurrection of Christ no longer separate the body. I was now putting my faith into practice. If we believe these things, then my brother and father were with me together with the whole communion of saints. Do souls in purgatory join us at mass? Do they pray with us and for us? Are they remorseful? I think so. Although I have wept bitterly, I have not despaired for my brother’s salvation. I have offered the words, “Oh my Jesus, forgive us our sins. Save us from the fires of hell, especially those in most need of thy mercy.” Nobody needed God’s mercy more than my brother did right before he pulled the trigger. I offered those words and the words of every chaplet thereafter begging Christ’s mercy and Our Lady’s comfort to my brother in his time of need. He was not a believer. Somewhere along the way he had lost his purpose and his faith. Yet, my mother and I prayed too damned hard for him to be lost. We put our trust in Divine Mercy. My mother reminded me that Jesus said, “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.” (He said even as they divided His garments.) My brother did not know what he was doing. He was out of his mind with anxiety and fear. The Catechism of The Catholic Church states: 2282 …Grave psychological disturbances, anguish, or grave fear of hardship, suffering, or torture can diminish the responsibility of the one committing suicide. 2283 We should not despair of the eternal salvation of persons who have taken their own lives. By ways known to him alone, God can provide the opportunity for salutary repentance. The Church prays for persons who have taken their own lives. Only God knows how culpable my brother was in his desperation. My brother was a self-sacrificing father. He loved deeply and generously. What he lacked in faith he made up for in love. It is therefore fitting that after lent comes Easter. Easter is the celebration of the resurrection. There was no body in the tomb because Christ was occupying it once again—and it wasn’t just his old body patched together, but the glorified version. The Apostles Creed reminds us that we “believe in the resurrection of the body.” We talk about heaven as an abstract thing forgetting that we will be reunited with our own flesh and blood one day. This is so comforting. I will see my brother in the flesh again. And I trust I will because of Christ’s Divine Mercy. In His Divine Mercy, we can pray for people after they die. If every consecration at every mass opens a window to an ever-present moment in salvation history, then my brother’s fatal moment is not limited to a human timeline. It is not out of God’s reach. God is outside of time. My prayer today can retroactively reach my brother yesterday. And because of this, I have hope. Jesus, I trust in you …

Friday, November 21, 2025

Purgatory – a bit like being stuck in a lift

“Being stuck in an elevator is like purgatory, you hope you are going up to heaven but …”. Pope Francis Many of us would know that being stuck in a lift is no fun. Nor would being stuck in Purgatory be any fun. Pope Stuck in Elevator—Now Understands Purgatory | The Spoof Amiko Aventurista 2 September, 2019 At an impromptu news conference, Vatican Spokesperson Alessandro Gisotti explained to an overflow crowd of reporters that Pope Francis was late to celebrate Sunday mass due to an elevator malfunction. Gisotti went to great length to say the Pope was fine. But, after answering several tough questions, it was apparent Gisotti was irritated, and at one point snapped, “Da Papa, he is ok, whats ser mater fo you …”. Apparently, Pope Francis was stuck between floors for 25 minutes, until workers were able to restore power and pry, the praying, pontiff. “Whoa, da was a close one!” were the first words heard from the Pope upon release. Pope Francis, born Jorge Mario Bergoglio, was on his way to mass when the power failed at the Vatican. The Vatican does not have a backup generator, because, according to Gisotti, “…for wha we need da, whats ser mater fo you.” During mass the Pope joked with the faithful that his special pope powers did not work in the elevator. “I had no wifi bars on my God mobile, ha ha.” Francis went on to laugh about it with the congregation. “God did not recognize me; he thought it was another … Jorge from Buenos Aires asking for yet another favor. Being stuck in an elevator is like purgatory, you hope you are going up to heaven but …......” A reminder this month of November, particularly, to pray and make sacrifices for the Holy Souls in Purgatory.

Thursday, November 20, 2025

Bishop George Berkeley – What, in God’s name, is an infinitesimal?

“These quantities seemed like ghosts, phantasms that were somehow necessary to calculate derivatives but vanished the moment they had served their purpose. Berkeley coined the phrase, “ghosts of departed quantities,” and it stuck”. Dr Colin WP Lewis For a realistic introduction to the great philosopher of science, and mathematician, George Berkeley, see my (Damien Mackey’s) article: Common sense philosophy of Irish Bishop George Berkeley (5) Common sense philosophy of Irish Bishop George Berkeley Meanwhile, Dr. Colin Lewis wrote this on George Berkeley in 2024: The Bishop Who Hated Infinitesimals (and Why It Matters) The Bishop Who Hated Infinitesimals (and Why It Matters) Bishop Berkeley and why we should fix AI’s Black Box …. Bishop Berkeley’s work is a strong reminder for AI developers and society. Many of us know about the Newton-Leibniz feud, that bitter quarrel of the calculus pioneers. Who invented it first, who borrowed from whom, and who ultimately deserved the glory. But behind this main act was a peculiar side story, one that features neither Newton's gravity-defying apple nor Leibniz's elegant notation. This is the story of George Berkeley, a philosopher-priest who … took direct aim at the very core of mathematics and may have asked a simple yet devastating question: What, in God’s name, is an infinitesimal? The answer, he implied, was that there really wasn't one, not in any meaningful, provable way. Who Was This Bishop, Anyway? George Berkeley was not, by any stretch, your typical critic of mathematics. He was a philosopher, first and foremost, and he wore the robe of an Anglican bishop in a corner of Ireland not exactly famous for producing math prodigies. Berkeley lived in a world shaped by the Enlightenment, an era where reason and empirical science were beginning to challenge religious and traditional authorities. Newtonian physics was rapidly becoming a kind of intellectual gospel, a framework through which one might explain both falling apples and the movement of stars. The rise of empirical methods and a mechanistic worldview presented a direct challenge to metaphysical and theological explanations, creating a cultural backdrop in which Berkeley's critiques took on profound significance. Yet Berkeley's own interests were less about the celestial and more about the nature of knowledge. He was deeply concerned with how we know what we know, not just the content of our knowledge. And when he took a long, hard look at Newtonian calculus, he saw a big, glaring problem. To Berkeley, calculus appeared to rest upon shaky conceptual ground. The mysterious infinitesimals, those infinitely small quantities that appear in the numerator or denominator only to vanish without a trace, bothered him. For example, in early calculus, one might consider the derivative of a function as the ratio of two infinitesimally small changes in variables, such as Δy/Δx, with Δ approaching zero. These quantities seemed like ghosts, phantasms that were somehow necessary to calculate derivatives but vanished the moment they had served their purpose. Berkeley coined the phrase, “ghosts of departed quantities,” and it stuck. He wanted mathematicians to explain, coherently and rigorously, how they justified their reliance on such specters. It wasn't until the introduction of the rigorous δ-ε (ε, δ) definition of limits by mathematicians like Cauchy and Weierstrass that calculus found a solid foundation. This approach allowed mathematicians to precisely define what it means for a function to approach a value, addressing Berkeley's concerns about the logical inconsistencies of infinitesimals. To Berkeley, these ghostly quantities were no better than a magician's sleight of hand, a trick where mathematicians pretended rigor while actually cutting corners. Damien Mackey’s comment: I doubt if George Berkeley would have been any more impressed by the Epsilon-Delta, δ-ε (ε, δ), ‘solution’ of Cauchy and Weierstrass. More mental artefacts. The question is asked at: real analysis - Does the epsilon-delta definition of limits truly capture our intuitive understanding of limits? - Mathematics Stack Exchange Does the epsilon-delta definition of limits truly capture our intuitive understanding of limits? …. I've been delving into the concept of limits and the Epsilon-Delta definition. The most basic definition, as I understand it, states that for every real number ϵ>0, there exists a real number δ>0 such that if 0<|x−a|<δ then |f(x)−L|<ϵ, where a is the limit point and L is the limit of the function f at a. While I grasp the formal definition, I'm grappling with the philosophical aspect of it. Specifically, I'm questioning whether this definition truly encapsulates our intuitive understanding of what a limit is. The idea of a limit, as I see it, is about a function's behavior as it approaches a certain point. However, the Epsilon-Delta definition seems to be more about the precision of the approximation rather than the behavior of the function. In the book "The Philosophy of Mathematics Today" by Matthias Schirn, on page 159, it is stated that: "At one point, Etchemendy asks: 'How do we know that our semantic definition of consequence is extensionally correct?' He goes on to say: 'That [this question] now strikes us odd just indicates how deeply ingrained is our assumption that the standard semantic definition captures, or comes close to capturing, the genuine notion of consequence' (Etchemendy 1990, 4-5). I do not think that this diagnosis is correct for some people: for some logicians, the question is similar to: How do we know that our epsilon-delta definition of continuity is correct?". This quote resonates with my current dilemma. Does the Epsilon-Delta definition truly capture the essence of what we mean by a 'limit'? though the epsilon-delta definition is a mathematical construct, what evidence do we have that it accurately reflects our intuitive concept of a limit? How can we be sure it is not merely a useful formalism, but a true representation of the limit as a variable approaching some value? Are there alternative definitions or perspectives that might align more closely with our intuitive understanding of limits? I would appreciate any insights or resources that could help me reconcile these aspects of the concept of limits. Thank you in advance for your help. ________________________________________ Dr. Colin Lewis continues: How to Roast a Mathematician To be fair, Berkeley wasn’t against mathematics. He was against bad epistemology. He published his arguments in The Analyst (1734), ostensibly as a critique of calculus, but also, perhaps even primarily, as a jab at atheists who used calculus to boast about the superiority of scientific over religious reasoning. His work challenged both mathematicians and those who saw themselves as the new intellectual priests of a secular age. Mathematicians like Colin Maclaurin and others attempted to counter Berkeley's arguments by defending the practical success of calculus, even if the foundational rigor was lacking. Maclaurin, for instance, worked to justify Newton's methods and demonstrated that the results of calculus were not merely coincidental but systematically reliable, despite Berkeley's philosophical objections. Berkeley did what any good philosopher does, he got under everyone's skin. He asked, in essence, ‘If you’re so smart, why are you still relying on ideas you can’t even define properly?’ The result was irritation, sure, but also introspection. What Berkeley managed to do was shake the faith in the calculus as it then stood. Not because he proved it wrong, the answers calculus produced were undeniably correct, but because he revealed that no one was quite sure why they were right. Mathematicians had powerful tools but lacked a firm philosophical foundation. The power of Newton's fluxions or Leibniz's differentials was there for all to see, but Berkeley's critique revealed the scaffolding underneath was less than sturdy. How could they talk about “infinitely small quantities” and act as though these unseeable, untouchable entities had real, measurable existence? They couldn't, at least not without a clearer articulation of the concepts in play. The Mathematicians Respond Berkeley may have lacked mathematical training, but his philosophical training was sharp enough to provoke a substantial response. The very discomfort he caused led to a slow but monumental shift in mathematics. His critique highlighted the need for rigor. Mathematicians like Augustin-Louis Cauchy and later Karl Weierstrass set out to reframe calculus in terms that even a skeptic could accept. As I mentioned above, enter the “δ-ε definition or (ε, δ)” of limits, a notion that allowed mathematicians to rigorously define what they meant when they said something was approaching zero, but not quite there. It took roughly a century for calculus to shed the phantoms Berkeley had identified, but it did. The ‘rigorization’ of calculus became one of the crowning achievements of 19th-century mathematics. Moreover, in the 20th century, infinitesimals themselves were given a rigorous foundation in non-standard analysis, a branch of mathematics developed by Abraham Robinson. This new approach provided a formal way to work with infinitesimals, addressing Berkeley's concerns in a modern context. So, while Berkeley's critiques were valid in his time, mathematics has since evolved to address these issues comprehensively. The Irony of Berkeley's Victory There’s a twist in this story, though, which Berkeley might have appreciated. In questioning calculus, he paved the way for a stronger, more resilient mathematical framework, even if it meant giving legitimacy to the very secular science he so often combated. His critique indirectly led to developments that would ultimately make calculus indispensable in the very scientific worldview that was undermining religion's intellectual authority. He never got to see this outcome; Berkeley died in 1753, long before the mathematicians took his rebuke to heart. But his role as the gadfly of early calculus is, if not celebrated, certainly acknowledged by those who understand the history of mathematics. He forced math to grow up, to address its own inconsistencies, and to become what it is today: a field rooted in careful, precise definition. ….

An Astronomy that has meaning!

by Damien F. Mackey G. Mackinlay, following through Isaac Newton’s principle that the Jewish teachers frequently made figurative allusions to things that were actually present, suggested that “other allusions” unspecified by Newton, “such, for instance, as the comparison of the Baptist to the shining of the Morning Star”, must also indicate that the object of reference was present. Introduction As discussed previously, some laudable attempts have been made by scholars to identify the Nativity Star of the Magi. The complexity of such an enterprise is apparent from Frederick (“Rick”) A. Larson’s question: Could the star have been a meteorite; a comet; a supernova; a planet; or a new star? Whilst lawyer, Larson, will favour, for the Magi Star, the planet Jupiter, the two other scholars considered in my article: Solid attempts to interpret the biblical sky (3) Solid attempts to interpret the biblical sky | Damien Mackey - Academia.edu Bruce Killian and G. Mackinlay, have opted for the planet Venus. Though Venus, again, will even play a rôle in Larson’s view of a bright conjunction with Jupiter. Frederick Larson is nothing if not thorough. He has picked up what he has called “The Nine Points of Christ’s Star” that he believes to be the key pieces in the puzzle of the sacred text, and he says he will not be satisfied with a final scenario that does not accommodate all nine of these. https://youtu.be/HIrwQJpD_OA Such is Larson’s thoroughness that even eight points for him will not suffice. His major difficulty will be with the fact that the Magi Star had stopped. But then it occurred to him that the planets, due to the optical phenomenon known as “retrograde motion”, actually appear to stop. Mars does a loop; Venus does a backflip; Jupiter inscribes a shallow circle. Important Chronological Notes While Larson has his Nine Points, I have interlaced previous articles on this subject with four Chronological Notes, the most relevant one here being this first one, on retrocalculation: * A very important comment on chronology (D. Mackey): Studies on the Star of the Magi and on other archaeoastronomical issues, with their retrocalculations of the night skies back into BC time, assume that our AD time is fixed, and that we actually live, today, a little over 2000 years after the Nativity of Jesus Christ. Not until revisionists like Dr. Immanuel Velikovsky came along were the standard BC calculations and ‘Dark Ages’ seriously questioned, and that has led to scholars today also rigorously testing AD time and its ‘Dark Ages’. See, e.g., Dr. Hans-Ulrich Niemitz: http://www.cl.cam.ac.uk/~mgk25/volatile/Niemitz-1997.pdf and Jan Beaufort’s summary: http://www.cybis.se/forfun/dendro/hollstein/hollstein0/beaufort/index.htm I, whilst not necessarily agreeing with all of what these writers have to say, think that there is enough in their theses, however, and that of those to whom they refer, to prompt one seriously to question the accuracy of the received AD dates. (I have since done this in various articles). Applying this note to Larson’s thesis, for instance, I have written: One of Larson’s nine points, his first in fact, has to do with this tricky subject of chronology. And this area of research may be his weak link, and may actually vitiate his whole argument. Larson has determined, based on an ancient version of the Jewish historian, Flavius Josephus, that the Birth of the Messiah had occurred in relation to the reign of Herod in 3-2 BC (***). *** A third chronological note This all becomes quite irrelevant, however, if I am correct in my view of Judas Maccabeus belonging to the approximate time of the Nativity of Jesus Christ …. Next I introduced: Bruce Killian, Venus The Star Of Bethlehem, whilst warmly praising Larson’s effort, has offered his own criticisms of Larson’s “The Star of Bethlehem” (2021): http://www.scripturescholar.com/VenusStarofBethlehem.pdf …. Fredrick Larson is a lawyer and does an excellent job of selling the wrong identification of the Star of Bethlehem. He identifies the Star of Bethlehem as Jupiter. He also notes that Jupiter is the largest of the planets, but that was unknown to the ancients who would see Venus as the most important because it was the brightest. He sees the king of the Jews identified in a month long shallow loop of Jupiter near Regulus the king star in the constellation of Leo. It does not “crown” this star but loops near it as it appears to loop like a Spiro graph drawing continuously in the sky. He then observed a close conjunction of Venus and Jupiter to indicate the conception of Jesus and he claims these two stars coming together was the brightest star anyone had ever seen. The problem is that Venus at its inferior conjunction is brighter than these two stars together. Finally he saw a link between the woman in Revelation 12 giving birth, but he fails to mention this happens each year and that it was not visible because it was during the day. He further presents the star guiding the magi to Bethlehem when they already knew that was where they were to go, but not identifying which of the many boys in Bethlehem was the newborn king. The stopping of Jupiter is when it reverses and goes into retrograde motion, but this point really does not even point to Bethlehem because when do you determine that this has occurred, visually you can’t, and when during the night? A miracle—many believe the star that guided the magi was simply a miracle. A light clearly called a star. Today we live at a time that planes fly over head all the time, God could have done this but why say a star guided them rather than an angel. It is clear from the information presented in this article that God was able from the foundation of the world to use the lights He set in the sky to guide the magi. I believe that most who hold this view do not recognize the special attributes of the planet Venus. These stars could be seen by all, but were faint, one would only see them if they were paying close attention. .... [End of quote] Bruce Killian would agree with Frederick Larson, though, about the Divine use of easy-to-read star tableaux. Regarding Killian’s hard BC dates (days and months), I added, recall my earlier warning about retrocalculations. George Mackinlay’s major contribution By far the most important contribution of the three, though, so I believe, is that of Lieutenant-Colonel G. Mackinlay, The Magi: How they recognized Christ's star (Hodder and Stoughton, 1907). He, too, had determined that the Star of Bethlehem was a planet, namely Venus in his case. He did not, back in his day, have the advantage of modern computer software, as has Larson, but was reliant on astronomical charts to put a date to the circumstances of Venus that he had determined had pertained to the chronology of Jesus Christ. Mackinlay - like Larson and others, relying heavily on the Scriptures - showed just how significant Venus was as “the morning star” and “the evening star”, and he quoted texts from the prophet Micah; including that fateful text without which King Herod (the Godfather of today’s abortionists) would never have condemned to death the children of Bethlehem. George Mackinlay also showed through Micah that the Baptist was symbolised as the morning star, heralding as it does the dawn (Christ). He was able to determine an internal chronology of Jesus Christ, and the Baptist, based on the periods of shining of the morning star, all this in connection with historical data, seasons and Jewish feasts. As said, the inherent weakness in such reconstructions as Larson’s, and even Mackinlay’s, is their presuming that the conventional dates for Herod and Jesus Christ are basically accurate - just as 539 BC is now wrongly presumed to be a certain date for King Cyrus of Persia - and that it is, therefore, simply a matter of finding an astronomical scenario within that conventional period and then being able to refine the dates using sophisticated modern scientific data. Happily, though, neither Larson’s nor Mackinlay’s scenario has that odd situation of the shepherds watching their sheep out in the open, in winter, that critics seem to latch on to every Christmas in order to ridicule St. Matthew’s account. Whilst I do not accept that Larson, Killian, or Mackinlay have managed, despite their valiant attempts, to identify the Magi Star, the contribution of Mackinlay on the chronological importance of the planet Venus I consider to be ground-breaking. Neither Killian’s nor Larson’s efforts - worthwhile though they assuredly are - can, I believe, match the coherent consistency of Lieutenant-Colonel G. Mackinlay’s model, that shows a Divine plan at work in every major phase of the life of Jesus Christ. Mackinlay was able to demonstrate how perfectly the eight year cycles of Venus wrap around the events of the life of Christ (who is also the “Sun of righteousness”), shining throughout the joyful occasions, but hidden during episodes of sadness and darkness. But not only does the Divine artist make use of the planet Venus in this regard. The Moon, too, in its various phases, and also the seasons (reflecting now abundance, now paucity), as Mackinlay has shown, also serve as chronological markers. Mackinlay’s harmonious theory has, to my way of thinking, the same sort of inherent consistency as has Florence and Kenneth Wood’s explanation, in Homer’s Secret ‘Iliad’ (http://www.amazon.com/Homers-Secret-Iliad-Night-Decoded/dp/0719557801), that the battles between the Greeks and Trojans as described in The Iliad mirror the movements of stars and constellations as they appear to fight for ascendancy in the sky. Since George Mackinlay’s thesis is far too detailed to do justice to it here, with all of its diagrams and detailed astronomical explanations always interwoven with the Scriptures, the interested reader is strongly advised to read the entire book. Mackinlay commences with the example of Saint John the Baptist and his association also with the morning star. (This symbolism has an Old Testament precedent, too, in Joseph’s astronomical dream, Genesis 37:9-10, according to which people are represented by heavenly bodies). Let us begin. Simile of St. John the Baptist to the Morning Star The figurative use of the morning star in reference to the Baptist is evident from the prophet Malachi’s description of the Christ’s forerunner: “My messenger, and he shall prepare the way before Me” (Malachi 3:1); because, as noted by Mackinlay (p. 39), “the same figure of speech is supported by Malachi 4:2, where the Christ is spoken of as the Sun of righteousness, who shall arise with healing in His wings”. That this definitely is the right association of scriptural ideas is shown by the reference made by Zechariah, the father of St. John the Baptist (Luke 1:76), to these two passages in the Old Testament. Thus, on the occasion of St. John’s circumcision, Zechariah prophesied of him: “You shall go before the face of the lord”, and, two verses later, he likens the coming of the Christ to “the Dayspring [or Sunrising] from on high”, which shall visit us. We note further that this same passage from Malachi, with reference to the Baptist, was quoted also by Mark the Evangelist (1:2); by the angel of the Lord who had appeared to Zechariah before his son’s birth (Luke 1:17); by the Baptist himself (John 3:28); by Jesus during his ministry (Matthew 11:10; Luke 7:27); and by the Apostle Paul at Antioch (Acts 13:24-25). These quotations are all the more remarkable because they were made at considerable intervals of time the one from the other. Jesus used the words more than three decades after they had been spoken to Zechariah by the angel, announcing that Christ’s forerunner would be born. And St. Paul referred to the very same passage in the Book of Malachi some fourteen years after Jesus had spoken them. St. John the Evangelist wrote of the Baptist: “The same came for a witness, that he might bear witness to the Light, that all might believe through him. He was not the Light, but came that he might bear witness to the Light” (John 1:7, 8). George Mackinlay, commenting on this passage (p. 41), says that “The Light par excellence is the Sun, and the Morning Star, which reflects its light, is not the light itself, but is a witness of the coming great luminary”. All four Evangelists record the Baptist as stating that the Christ would come after him: a statement in perfect harmony with the comparison of himself to the morning star (see e.g. Matthew 3:2; Mark 1:7; Luke 3:16 and John 1:15). On three memorable occasions St. John the Baptist preceded and also testified to Jesus: viz. some months before Jesus’s birth (Luke 1:41, 44); shortly before Jesus’s public ministry (Matthew 3:11); and by his violent death at the hands of Herod, about a year before the Crucifixion (Matthew 14:10). Alluding to the Baptist’s martyrdom, Jesus said: “Even so shall the Son of Man also suffer” (Matthew 17:12, 13). The figure of St. John the Baptist as the morning star is therefore a most appropriate one. Object of Reference Always Present George Mackinlay, following through Isaac Newton’s principle that the Jewish teachers frequently made figurative allusions to things that were actually present, suggested (p. 56) that “other allusions” unspecified by Newton, “such, for instance, as the comparison of the Baptist to the shining of the Morning Star”, must also indicate that the object of reference was present. “We may reasonably conclude”, he added, “that the planet was then to be seen in the early morning before sunrise”. Mackinlay realised that if Newton’s principle really worked in this instance, it would enable him to “find an indication of the dates of the ministries of Christ and of John, and consequently of the crucifixion”. Making use of calculations made by expert astronomers at the Royal Observatory, Greenwich, Mackinlay, himself a professional observer, drew up a chart recording the periods when Venus appeared as the morning star for the period AD 23-36 – “a period which covers all possible limits for the beginning and ending of Christ’s ministry”. {One will need to refer to Mackinlay’s own chart reproducing the astronomical data that he had received. I have already listed various chronological precautions that I believe must seriously affect dating methods, including Mackinlay’s}. From Mackinlay’s diagram we learn that the morning star shines continuously on the average for about seven and a half lunar months at the end of each night, giving at least an hour’s notice of sunrise; but if we include the period when it is still visible, but gives shorter notice, the time of shining may be lengthened to about nine lunar months. An eight years’ cycle containing five periods of the shining of the morning star - useful for practical purposes - exists between the apparent movements of the sun and Venus, correct to within a little over two days. The morning star is conventionally estimated (see previous comment on chronology) to have begun to shine at the vernal equinox, AD 25, and eight years afterwards, viz. in AD 33, it began again its period of shining at the same season of the year; and so, generally, at all years separated from each other by eight years, the shinings of the morning star were during the same months. From the historical data available, it is conventionally agreed that the Crucifixion of Jesus Christ occurred between the years AD 28 – 33. Of necessity, then, the three and a half years’ ministry (Mackinlay is of the view that Christ’s public ministry lasted “the longer period” of between three and four years, whilst he also discusses “the shorter period” of less than three years) would have begun in one of the years AD 24-29 (conventional dating). We shall proceed now to examine in more detail those passages in the Gospels that refer to St. John the Baptist as the morning star. (a) Beginning of the Baptist’s Ministry At the very beginning of his ministry, the Baptist referred to the prophecy in Malachi 3:1, in which he himself is likened to the morning star, when he said: “He who comes after me is mightier than I” (Matthew 3:2, etc.). Now, according to Isaac Newton’s principle of scriptural interpretation, that figures are taken from things actually present, the morning star would have been shining when the Baptist began his ministry; thus the witness in the sky, and the human messenger, each gave a prolonged heralding of the One who was to come. If we refer to the Gospel of Matthew (3:8, 10 and 12), we find St. John the Baptist using three figures of speech at the beginning of his ministry: 1. “Now is the axe laid to the root of the trees” – presumably to mark the unfruitful trees to be cut down (see also Matthew 7:19). 2. “Every tree that does not bring forth good fruit is cut down …”. 3. “His winnowing fork is in his hand, and He will clear his threshing floor, and gather his wheat into the granary, but the chaff He will burn with unquenchable fire”. As Mackinlay has noted (p. 60), these three figures used by St. John all refer to the time of harvest, which would have taken place within the month of the Passover, “as the place where John began his ministry was the deep depression ‘round about Jordan’ (Luke 3:3), where the harvest is far earlier than on the Judaean hills”. Now, according to Mackinlay’s chart, the morning star was shining during the month after the Passover (April or May) only in the years AD 24, 25 and 27, in the period AD 24-29. Hence we conclude that St. John the Baptist began his ministry in one of these three years. (b) Beginning of Jesus’s Ministry The Baptist again bore witness just before the beginning of Jesus Christ’s public ministry, when he proclaimed to the people: “This was He of whom I said, ‘He who comes after me ranks before me, for He was before me’” (John 1:15); and he repeated that statement the next day (John 1:30) – again bearing out the simile of the morning star and the rising sun. George Mackinlay, analysing what time of year this was, is certain that it must have been a good deal later than the beginning of St. John’s own ministry; “probably at least four or five months, to allow time for the Baptist to be known and to attract public attention”, he says (p. 61). It could not have been earlier than the latter part of August, he goes on; and “it must also have been long before the following Passover”, for several events in Jesus’s ministry “occurred before that date”. Mackinlay suggests that Jesus Christ most likely began his public ministry, “which we must date from the marriage in Cana of Galilee”, before November, “because there would have been leaves on the fig tree” when Nathanael came from under it (John 1:47, 48) (pp. 61-62). Jesus approvingly called Nathanael “an Israelite indeed” (John 1:47). Unlike the hypocrites who loved to pray so as to be seen by men (Matthew 6:5), Nathanael had carefully hidden himself for quiet prayer under cover of his fig tree, and so he was greatly surprised that Jesus had seen him there. In Scripture, the state of the vegetation of the fig tree is used to indicate the seasons of the year (see Matthew 24:32). We are informed that when the branch of the fig tree “becomes tender and puts forth its leaves, you know that summer is near”. From the Song of Songs (2:13), we read of the season when “the fig tree puts forth her green figs”; and the fading of the leaf of the fig tree is mentioned in Isaiah 34:4. From this scriptural detail, relating to seasons, Mackinlay is able to narrow even further the choice of years (from AD 24-29) for the beginning of the two ministries. “We must reject AD 24, for the morning star definitely was not shining between the months August to November of that year”, he writes (p. 63). This leaves us with only two options, viz. AD 25 and 27. At this stage Mackinlay makes a further assumption – previously he had asked the reader to assume for the time being that “the shorter period’ choice for the length of Jesus’s ministry be put aside – in relation to the date AD 27. Whilst admitting that AD 27 would fulfil the necessary conditions given above “if we suppose that Christ began His ministry within a month or six weeks from the time of John’s first appearance”, Mackinlay elected to put aside this date for reasons that would become apparent later on. “He must increase, but I must decrease”. The next reference to St. John the Baptist under the figure that we are considering is: “He must increase, but I must decrease” (John 3:30). According to F. Meyer, the Baptist “knew that he was not the Light, but sent to bear witness of it, not the Sun, but the Star that announces the dawn …” (Life and Light of Men, p. 42). St. John’s words may have foreshadowed his imprisonment as well, as Mackinlay thinks, for “they were uttered after the first Passover, which took place, according to the assumption which we have just made, in AD 26, but before the Baptist was cast into prison” (pp. 63-64). Consequently, he adds, we may assume that St. John the Baptist spoke these words about the beginning or the middle of April. Meyer may not have been correct, however, in concluding his otherwise beautiful metaphor above by saying that “the Star”, which represents the Baptist, and which “announces the dawn”, also “wanes in the growing light” of the Sun. The waning of a celestial body appears to be the scriptural symbolism for the destruction of wickedness. The seeming annihilation of the stars caused by the rising of the sun, was an ancient figure of speech used to typify the triumph of good over the powers of darkness and evil. George Mackinlay suggests that this may be the image intended by St. Paul when he spoke of “The lawless one, whom the Lord shall bring to nought by the manifestation (in Greek, “shining forth”) of His coming” (II Thessalonians 2:8); and he adds that the figure of the rising sun extinguishing the light of the stars “is associated with conflict, punishment and judgment, which certainly did not represent the relationship between Christ and His forerunner John” (p. 65). Undoubtedly, rather, the impression that the Evangelist was intending to convey in this instance was one of the morning star decreasing in the sense of its non-appearance in the sky at the end of each night, as the increasing power of the sun’s heat and light became manifest. The planet Venus moves further and further away from its position as morning star, and increases its angular distance on the other side of the sun as the evening star. According to Mackinlay, in the year 26 AD Venus began to appear as the evening star “shortly before midsummer” (p. 64). Interestingly, George Mackinlay’s chart indicates that it is the more probable explanation of the non-appearance of Venus in the sky at the end of the night as being the more appropriate figure to depict the decreasing of St. John the Baptist, which is fulfilled in the circumstance under consideration. Imprisonment of St. John the Baptist It is likely, as W. Sanday has noted (Outlines from the Life of Christ, p. 49), that the imprisonment of the Baptist took place after the Passover, and before the harvest of AD 26 (John 4:35); and soon after St. John had stated that “He must increase, but I must decrease”. Sanday considered that the events surrounding the Passover (of John 2:13-4:45) did not occupy more than three or four weeks, and when Jesus arrived in Galilee (see Matthew 4:12) the impression of his public acts at Jerusalem was still fresh. Sanday thought that his estimation of the date of the Baptist’s imprisonment was “somewhat strengthened by the fact that the Synoptic Gospels record no events after Christ’s Baptism and before John was delivered up, except the Temptation (Matthew 4:12; Mark 1:14 see also Luke 4:14); and because the Apostle Paul said that “as John was fulfilling his course, he said, ‘What do you suppose that I am? I am not He. No, but after me One is coming, the sandals of whose feet I am not worthy to untie’.” (Acts 13:25)”. These words tend to place the end of the Baptist’s career rather early, because the message here referred to was proclaimed by him when he announced the Messiah, in autumn of AD 25 (John 1:26, 27). Following George Mackinlay (p. 64), we therefore estimate that St. John the Baptist was imprisoned about the middle or end of April, AD 26, when, as is apparent from Mackinlay’s chart, the morning star, appropriately, was not shining. “He was a burning and shining lamp” The next reference to St. John the Baptist under this simile is a very striking one. Jesus speaks of him as “a burning and shining lamp; and you were willing to rejoice for a season in his light”. (John 5:35). Mackinlay has suggested that, because the definite article is used twice in the Greek version of this passage, “it therefore seems to indicate some particular light” (p. 67). Though St. John was in prison, Jesus said of him at this time: “You sent to John, and both was and still is a witness to the truth” (John 5:33). Regarding the phrase “to rejoice for a season in his light”, Dr. Harpur tells of a custom in the East for travellers by night to sing songs at the rising of the morning star because it announces that the darkness and dangers of the night are coming to an end (as referred to by Mackinlay, p. 68). In effect, then, Jesus was saying that the disciples of the Baptist were willing to rejoice in the light of the herald of day, which shines only by reflecting the light of the coming sun; but should rejoice now ever more since the sun itself had arisen – since “the Light of the World” had actually come. This interpretation harmonises with Jesus’s statement recorded a few verses on (John 5:39) that “you search the Scriptures … which bear witness of Me”; the inference again being – now that I have come, you ought to receive Me. All through this conversation, Mackinlay notes, “the subject is that of bearing witness” – by his own works; by the Father; by the Baptist; by the Scriptures and by Moses – “the whole pointing to the necessity of receiving the One to whom such abundant witness had been borne”. The time when Jesus made this particular statement about the Scriptures bearing witness to Him was just after the un-named feast of John 5:1, and before the Passover of John 6:4. It is often assumed, George Mackinlay informs us, that this un-named feast was Passover – but some have opted for naming it the feast of Purim, fixed several centuries earlier by the command of Queen Esther (Esther 9:32); or even the feast of Weeks at the beginning of June (p. 69). This does not affect our chronological scheme, however, for we learn from Mackinlay’s chart that the morning star was appropriately shining on each one of these feasts in AD 27. The Crucifixion But when we come to the last Passover, in the year AD 29, the herald of the dawn had just disappeared. George Mackinlay shows (p. 81) that the disappearance of the planet Venus harmonises perfectly with the record of the complete isolation of Jesus Christ at his Crucifixion, given as follows: (1) The disappearance of the witness John by death (Matthew 14:10). The forsaking of Our Lord by all his disciples (Matthew 26:56; Psalm 38:11; 49:20). (3The absence of any record of a ministry of angels, as after the Temptation (Matthew 4:11). The hiding of God’s face, when Christ uttered the cry: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (Matthew 27:46; Psalm 22:1). (5) In nature, the Sun’ light failed (Luke 23:45). (6) Being daytime, the Paschal Full Moon was, of course, below the horizon. Most relevant to our subject also is the following chapter from George Mackinlay’s book: Chapter Three: “A Star … out of Jacob” Mackinlay commences by establishing “the greater probability” of the following two facts: (a) That the Nativity of Jesus Christ was at least five months after the beginning of a period of shining of the morning star, and (b) That the Nativity was at a Feast of Tabernacles (p. 140). Firstly, we consider Mackinlay’s reason for believing that the Lord’s Nativity was: (a) Five months after a period of shining. To begin with, we must consider what reason there is for supposing that the morning star was shining at all when Jesus Christ was born. In Malachi 3:1, as we have seen already, St. John the Baptist is referred to under the figure of the morning star, as the forerunner of the Christ. But the morning star itself may be called “My messenger who shall prepare the way before Me”. It is not unusual for inanimate objects thus to be spoken of in Scripture, for instance in Psalm 88:38 we have “the faithful witness in the sky”, and in Psalm 148:3 the sun, moon and stars of light are exhorted to praise God. Consequently, as George Mackinlay has explained it (p. 141), “we can reasonably suppose that the Morning Star was shining at the Nativity”. Furthermore, he adds, if the morning star were the herald of the coming One, it is fitting to imagine that a somewhat prolonged notice should be given; for “it would be more dignified and stately for the one to precede the other by a considerable interval, than that both should come almost together”. We shall find Mackinlay’s supposition of a prolonged heralding by the morning star borne out by the following inference. According to the principle of metaphors being taken from things present, we could infer that the morning star was actually shining when Jesus Christ (in Matthew 11:10), quoting Malachi 3:1, spoke of the Baptist as “My messenger … before My face”. Consistently following the same line of thought, we may reasonably infer that the morning star was also shining more than thirty years earlier when Zechariah quoted the same scriptural verse– i.e. Malachi 3:1 – at the circumcision of his son, John (Luke 1:76). Even had this appropriate passage not been quoted at the time, Mackinlay suggests (p. 142), “we might have inferred that the herald in the sky would harmoniously have been shining at the birth of the human herald”. George Mackinlay further suggests from his inference that both Jesus and John were born when the morning star was shining, that “both must have been born during the same period of its shining”. [He shows this in his charts]. The Annunciation to Mary was made by the angel Gabriel in the sixth month after the announcement to Zechariah (Luke 1:13, 24, 26); and so it follows that the Baptist was born five to six months before Jesus. Since Mackinlay’s charts indicate that the periods of shining are separated from each other by intervals of time greater than six months, then both Jesus and his herald must have been born during the same period of shining. Consequently Jesus Christ was born at least five months after the beginning of a period of shining of the morning star. It will be noticed that some years in Mackinlay’s charts are omitted – this is due simply to lack of space – but no events recorded in the Gospels took place in these omitted years, nor were any of them enrolment (see below) or Sabbath years. (b) At a Feast of Tabernacles The Law, we are told by St. Paul, has “a shadow of the good things to come” (Hebrews 10:1). The various ordinances and feasts of the Old Testament, if properly understood, are found, according to George Mackinlay, “to refer to and foreshadow many events and doctrines of the New Testament” (p. 143). Again, A. Gordon had remarked that: “Many speak slightingly of the types, but they are as accurate as mathematics; they fix the sequence of events in redemption as rigidly as the order of sunrise and noontide is fixed in the heavens” (The Ministry of the Spirit, p. 28). The deductions drawn from Gospel harmonies attest the truth of his statement. We have already observed that the Sabbath Year began at the Feast of Tabernacles; the great feasts of Passover and Weeks following in due course. Jesus’s death took place at the Passover (Matthew 27:50), probably, George Mackinlay believes, “at the very hour when the paschal lambs were killed”. “Our Passover … has been sacrificed, even Christ” (1 Corinthians 5:7); the great Victim foretold during so many ages by the yearly shedding of blood at that feast. The first Passover at the Exodus was held on the anniversary of the day when the promise –accompanied by sacrifice – was given to Abraham, that his seed would inherit the land of Canaan (Exodus 12:41; Genesis 15:8-18). Jesus Christ rose from the dead on the day after the Sabbath after the Passover (John 20:1); the day on which the sheaf of first fruits, promise of the future harvest, was waved before God (Leviticus 23:10, 11). Hence we are told by Saint Paul that as “Christ the first-fruits” (1 Corinthians 15:20. 23) rose, so those who believe in him will also rise afterwards. This day was the anniversary of Israel’s crossing through the “Sea of Reeds” (Exodus 12-14), and, as in the case of the Passover, it was also a date memorable in early history, being the day when the Ark came to rest on the mountains of Ararat (Genesis 8:4). The month Nisan, which had been the seventh month, became the first at the Exodus (Exodus 12:2). Thus Christ’s Resurrection was heralded by two most beautiful and fitting types, occurring almost – possibly exactly – on the same day of the year; by the renewed earth emerging from the waters of the Flood, and by the redeemed people emerging from the waters of the “Sea of Reeds”. Mackinlay proceeded to search for any harmonies that there may be between the characteristics of this Feast of Tabernacles and the events recorded in connection with the Nativity. As we have noticed previously, he says (p. 146), there were two great characteristics of the Feast of Tabernacles: 1. Great joy and 2. Living in booths (tents). 1. Great joy. The Israelites were told at this feast, “You shall rejoice before the Lord your God” (Leviticus 23:40), and “You shall rejoice in your feast … you shall be altogether joyful” (Deuteronomy 16:14, 15). King Solomon dedicated his Temple on a Feast of Tabernacles, and the people afterwards were sent away “joyful and glad of heart” (1 Kings 8:2, 66; 2 Chronicles 7:10). There was no public rejoicing at the Nativity of Jesus Christ, however; on the contrary, as George Mackinlay notes, “shortly afterwards Herod was troubled and all Jerusalem with him” (Matthew 2:3). But though He was rejected by the majority, we find the characteristic joy of Tabernacles reflected in the expectant and spiritually-minded souls. Before the Nativity both the Virgin Mary and Elizabeth rejoiced in anticipation of it (Luke 1:38, 42, 44, 46, 47). At the Nativity an angel appeared to the shepherds and brought them good tidings of great joy; and then “suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, ‘Glory to God in the highest’.” The shepherds then came to the infant Saviour and returned “glorifying and praising God” (Luke 2:9-20). Forty days after the Nativity, at the Purification, Simeon, who had been waiting a long time for the consolation of Israel, and the venerable Anna who was a constant worshipper, joined in with their notes of praise and gladness (Luke 2:22-38). And lastly the wise men from the East “rejoiced with exceeding great joy” when they saw the star indicating where the Saviour was, and they came into the house, saw the young Child with his Mother, and presented the gifts that they had brought (Matthew 2:9-11). This “Mother”, the Virgin Mary, is the ultimate “Star” pointing to Jesus Christ, her Son. John Paul II’s encyclical, Redemptoris Mater (1987), is full of allusions to the Blessed Virgin Mary as ‘our fixed point’, or star ‘of reference’. To quote just this one example (# 3): …. The fact that she “preceded” the coming of Christ is reflected every year in the liturgy of Advent. Therefore, if to that ancient historical expectation of the Saviour we compare these years which are bringing us closer to the end of the second Millennium after Christ and to the beginning of the third, it becomes fully comprehensible that in this present period we wish to turn in a special way to her, the one who in the “night” of the Advent expectation began to shine like a true “Morning Star” (Stella Matutina). For just as this star, together with the “dawn,” precedes the rising of the sun, so Mary from the time of her Immaculate Conception preceded the coming of the Saviour, the rising of the “Sun of Justice” in the history of the human race. 2. Living in booths. According to George Mackinlay (pp. 147-148), the living in booths finds a parallel in the language of the Apostle John, when he wrote concerning the Birth of Jesus, “The Word became flesh, and tabernacled among us” (John 1:14); and Our Lord himself used a somewhat similar figure when he spoke of his body thus “Destroy this Temple, and in three days I shall raise it up” (John 2:19) – words misunderstood by his enemies and afterwards quoted against him (Matthew 26:61; 27:40). It was at the Feast of Tabernacles that the glory of God filled the Temple that King Solomon had prepared for Him (2 Chronicles 5:3, 13, 14), and it would seem to have been at the beginning or first day of the feast, the fifteenth day of the month. Consequently, in Mackinlay’s opinion (p. 148) “it would appear to be harmonious that the Advent of the Lord Jesus in the body divinely prepared for him (Hebrews 10:5) should also take place at the same feast and most suitably on the first day of its celebration”. It will be noticed that the glory of God did not cover the tent of meeting when the Israelites were in the wilderness, and did not fill the tabernacle, at the Feast of Tabernacles. But it did so on the first day of the first month of the second year after the departure from Egypt (Exodus 40:17, 34, 35). We must remember that there was no Feast of Tabernacles in the wilderness, nor was the Sabbath Year kept at this stage; but both of these ordinances were to be observed when the Israelites entered into the Promised Land (Exodus 34:22). No agricultural operations were carried out during the forty years of wandering in the wilderness. As the Feast of Tabernacles inaugurated the Sabbath Year, Mackinlay judged (p. 149) that the glory of God filled the temple on the first day of the feast, “as that would be in harmony with what happened in the tabernacle in the wilderness when the glory of the Lord filled it on the first day of the only style of year then observed”. A. Edersheim, writing about the Feast of Tabernacles, says (The Temple, note on p. 272): “It is remarkable how many allusions to this feast occur in the writings of the prophets, as if its types were the goal of all their desires”. For further reading, see my articles: The Magi and the Star that Stopped (3) The Magi and the Star that Stopped and: Magi were not necessarily astronomers or astrologers (3) Magi were not necessarily astronomers or astrologers