Lincoln Cannon

The scriptures say that Jesus was conceived by a virgin. Speculation on the biological mechanics of his birth leads us to the intersection of theology, linguistics, and even technological possibility. A friend asked me for my opinion on the topic. Here are my thoughts.

First, let’s distinguish between the idea of a virgin birth and the “immaculate conception.” Among some Christians, “immaculate conception” refers not to their doctrine that Mary was a virgin when she conceived Jesus, but rather to their doctrine that Mary herself was conceived without original sin. This is important to them because they want to explain how Jesus could be free of sin while being conceived by Mary, who some might suppose inherited original sin from Adam and Eve. In Mormonism, this isn’t a salient concern because we have no doctrine of original sin, instead attributing sin exclusively to individual choices made by persons with ethical accountability – usually considered to be around age eight, which is also the typical time for baptism.

In our modern technological world, the idea of a miraculous birth through divine intervention can seem less mystical when we consider advancements in reproductive technology. In vitro fertilization (IVF), surrogacy, and even the potential for creating embryos using genetic material from two same-sex parents are illustrations that extraordinary births are technologically feasible. If we entertain the possibility of the existence of superintelligence with technology far superseding our own, whether we attribute divinity to them or not, it is entirely plausible that such beings could orchestrate biological conception without sexual intercourse – virgin birth.

Early Mormon leaders suggested that Jesus was conceived through natural means. Here’s an example from Brigham Young, the second president of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints:

“The birth of the Saviour was as natural as the births of our children; it was the result of natural action. He partook of flesh and blood – was begotten of his Father, as we were of our fathers.” (Journal of Discourses 8:115)

The most straightforward interpretation of these words seems to be that, according to Brigham, Jesus was conceived by sexual intercourse. Presumably, although not explicitly, Brigham meant that God, who is embodied according to Mormon theology, was the the biological father. Some have suggested that, because Brigham doesn’t explicitly mention intercourse, the natural action could have been what we might recognize as reproductive technology. To me, that seems like an interpretive stretch, even if practically feasible.

Some contend that any natural conception, whether by sexual intercourse or reproductive technology, would contradict scriptural accounts of virgin birth. However, a reasonable case can be made that the word “virgin” in English scripture may have been translated from words that simply refer to young women, rather than those who’ve never engaged in sexual intercourse. This would align ancient linguistics with natural possibilities, without any necessary diminishment of the sacredness of Mary’s role. After all, we need not be antinaturalists to recognize sanctity in motherhood.

No matter how we approach the topic of Jesus’ conception, it merits ethical deliberation. Although ancient cultures had different moral frameworks, contemporary values emphasize autonomy and consent. In our framework, some of us find the story disturbing. And, depending on the specifics of various interpretations, I share in that feeling.

However, the ancient authors actually seem to have observed and implicitly responded to such concerns, at least to some extent. For example, Jesus’ genealogies, as presented in scripture, suggest complex family dynamics, including instances of extramarital conception. Rahab, who was apparently a sex worker, and Bathsheba, whose relationship with King David began in scandal, are among those in the lineage of Jesus. The implication appears to be that morally complicated relationships can contribute to sacred events and sacred people.

Personally, I lean toward the simplest explanation. Like Brigham, I imagine Jesus was conceived naturally – although probably devoid of extraterrestrial involvement, as some have speculated. Grounding the origin of Jesus within the natural human process strengthens his example for our lives. Worshiping through emulation a God with the same origin as us enriches the relationship with deeper accessibility.

Embracing this view consolidates ontological and metaphysical speculations into an inspiring narrative of tangible progress and potential for all humanity. An approximation of this pragmatic value is expressed in a revelation from Joseph Smith:

“[Jesus] received not of the fulness at the first, but received grace for grace; And he received not of the fulness at first, but continued from grace to grace, until he received a fulness; And thus he was called the Son of God, because he received not of the fulness at the first. … I give unto you these sayings that you may understand and know how to worship, and know what you worship, that you may come unto the Father in my name, and in due time receive of his fulness. For if you keep my commandments you shall receive of his fulness, and be glorified in me as I am in the Father; therefore, I say unto you, you shall receive grace for grace.” (D&C 93: 12-14, 19-20)

From this perspective, Jesus began the same way you and I began. And we have the same potential as Jesus. The latter is easier to trust if we’re persuaded of the former. The more we imagine ourselves to have in common with Jesus, the easier it will be to apply his example to our lives in practically transformative ways.

That said, I cannot of course disprove antinaturalist imaginations of literal virgin birth, as such doesn’t lend itself to disproof – or proof. And of course, on the natural side of the question, the matrix architect will do as she pleases, so to speak. In other words, I recognize the feasibility of God (the natural God in which I trust) applying reproductive technology or engaging in sexual intercourse, even if I’m inclined to imagine a more mundane explanation in this case.

However we imagine the biological mechanics (or lack thereof), Jesus’ birth can serve as a focal point for dialogue at the intersection of science and religion. Where there’s dialogue, there’s usually increasing mutual understanding over time. And where’s there’s increasing mutual understanding, there’s usually increasing edification. May we use the opportunity to that end.