Chapter 1

Jesus’s last words recorded in this Gospel include one imperative surrounded by three subordinate participial clauses—which is probably to say, one command that’s carried out in three ways. The one command is to “make disciples of the nations;” and it is to be implemented by “going,” by “baptizing,” and by “teaching.” In modern church language, we might summarize these global discipleship tasks as cross-cultural ministry, evangelism, and Christian education. Because the Great Commission climaxes Matthew’s Gospel, we should read each of these tasks in light of how they are addressed earlier.

Before commissioning his followers to disciple the nations, Jesus says, “going” (often translated, “as you go”). Because this word evokes Jesus’s earlier command to “go” in preaching the kingdom (10:5-7), we can be confident that its use is no accident here. In the earlier passage, however, Jesus’s disciples are to go only to Israel’s lost sheep and not to Gentile or Samaritan cities (10:5-6), whereas here, the object of going has changed. Jesus’s followers are to make disciples of “the nations,” so going demands crossing cultural barriers to reach the Gentiles.

Is cross-cultural ministry to Gentiles an idea that Matthew suddenly springs on his predominantly Jewish audience only at the end of his Gospel? Or is it an idea for which he has prepared them throughout? We get a clue by looking first at Matthew’s opening genealogy.

Ancient Jewish genealogies typically named only male ancestors, but Matthew includes four women. Of the women he could have included, we might have expected him to mention the most famous— the four matriarchs of Israel (or at least the three who were part of Jesus’s royal lineage). Instead, Matthew includes four women who have some sort of association with Gentiles. Tamar was a Canaanite (Gen 38); ancient Jewish sources acknowledge her as a Gentile. Rahab was from Jericho; in fact, through a series of comparisons, Joshua’s narrative contrasts this Gentile (who brought her family into Israel) with the Judahite Achan, whose sin destroyed his family (Josh 2:6-7). Ruth was from Moab; although Moabites officially were not permitted to enter Israel (Deut 23:3), God welcomed her because she followed him (Ruth 1:16). Bathsheba was probably from Judah herself but is named by her deceased husband, Uriah the Hittite, to reinforce her Gentile association. Thus, three ancestors of King David and the mother of King Solomon had some sort of association with Gentiles!

The normal purpose of Jewish genealogies was to emphasize the purity of one’s Israelite (or sometimes Levitical) ancestry. By contrast, Matthew specifically highlights the mixed character of Jesus’s royal lineage. Why? This genealogy is important. The opening phrase, “book of the generation” (1:1), which appears in Genesis with lists of descendants, Matthew uses to list the ancestors of Jesus. Whereas people normally depend on their ancestors for their existence, Matthew understands that Jesus’s ancestors depend on him for their purpose in history. Yet some of these ancestors were Gentiles. From the very beginning of his Gospel, Matthew shows that Gentiles were no afterthought in God’s plan, but rather he purposed to bless all the families of the earth in Abraham’s seed!

In the very next chapter, those who come to worship the new king of the Jews are the Magi (2:1), Persian astrologers who were supposed to honor especially the Persian king. Their role might have shocked Matthew’s audience, who would expect Parthians to be polytheistic and would have recognized the evils of pagan astrology. What underlines the role of the Magi here even more firmly is the contrast with other main characters in the context. Whereas these likely ‘pagans’ have come to worship the true king (2:2), the current king over Judea—the Idumean Herod—acts like a pagan. Matthew’s audience, being a few generations removed from Herod and likely outside Jewish Palestine, might not have known of the many temples Herod built for pagan deities or his reputation for ‘eliminating’ members of his own family or even his murdering of Bethlehem’s baby boys (2:16). But ideally they would know Scripture well enough to catch the biblical analogy. By killing these male children, Herod acted like Pharaoh of old (Ex 1:15-22), whereas the Persian wise men honor Israel’s true king!

Meanwhile, Herod’s own ‘wise men’ (the chief priests and scribes) knew precisely where the Messiah would be born (2:5-6), yet made no effort to accompany the Magi. Those who knew God’s word the best neglected its message—a sin that only Bible readers and teachers can commit. A generation later, their successors became Jesus’s most lethal opposition (16:21; 20:18; 27:41). They too stand in contrast to the Magi, who came from afar to worship Israel’s rightful king, just as do all Gentiles who become Jesus’s followers.

Gentiles continue to surface in Matthew’s Gospel. For instance, in chapter 3, John the Baptist reminds the Jewish people that they cannot depend on their ancestry for salvation. Many believed that Abraham’s descendants as a whole would be saved; but John tells them God can raise up children for Abraham from stones (3:9)! In chapter 4, Jesus relocates to Capernaum, fulfilling a prophecy of Isaiah about “Galilee of the Gentiles” (4:15). In chapter 8, he delivers demoniacs from a largely Gentile region that raises pigs (8:28-34) and heals the servant of a Roman centurion, calling the centurion’s faith greater than that of his fellow Israelites (8:10). There Jesus warns that many of Abraham’s genetic descendants would perish (8:12), while Gentiles would come from the east (like the Magi) and west (like the Romans) to partake of the kingdom banquet with the patriarchs (8:11). Later, Jesus also illustrates north and south, saying that Sheba and Nineveh, which repented, will fare better at the judgment than his generation of Israel, which has not repented (12:41-42). Even wicked Sodom will have a lighter judgment, for they would have repented had they seen the miracles that this generation was seeing (10:15; 11:23-24).

Likewise, Jesus heeds the plea of a Canaanite woman (15:21-28). In Mark, she is a Syro-Phoenician Greek (i.e., a resident of Syrophoenicia belonging to an urbanite ruling class that exploited workers of the countryside), who now comes as a supplicant. Matthew ‘overlooks’ her credentials but rather identifies her via the fact that she resides in a region populated by descendants of the ancient Canaanites. Matthew’s Gospel had opened with the mention of two Canaanite women of faith; this Canaanite also becomes a model of faith, like the Gentile centurion.

It is probably no coincidence that to his disciples Jesus puts the question as to his identity not in Jerusalem or Jewish Galilee but in Caesarea Philippi (16:13), which was a pagan city, originally named Paneas for its famous grotto of the god Pan. By choosing such a setting, Jesus prefigured the future mission to proclaim his message outside the Holy Lands. It is also undoubtedly no coincidence that the first people to acknowledge Jesus as God’s Son after the crucifixion are the Gentile execution squad (27:54).

Lest anyone miss the point of this recurrent theme of Gentiles, Matthew reports Jesus’s one prerequisite regarding the end of time. In contrast to the expected end-time signs of his contemporaries (e.g., wars, famines) of which he says “the end is not yet” (24:6-8), Jesus announces that the good news about the kingdom will be proclaimed among all peoples and “then the end will come” (24:14). The closing parable of this discourse reinforces that idea. In 25:31-46, the nations are judged by how they received the messengers of the kingdom, the “least of these my siblings” (25:40, 45). Everywhere else in Matthew, these spiritual siblings represent his disciples (12:49-50; 19:29; 23:8; 28:10); moreover, it is those who receive and give drink to Jesus’s agents who are doing the same for him (10:40-42; cf. 10:11). The texts involving proclamation to the nations before “the end” explains why 28:20 emphasizes that Jesus will be with us “until the end of the age.” That means he will be with us in the task of discipling the nations (28:19).

Many scholars think that Matthew wrote his Gospel after AD 70, in the wake of massive Jewish suffering at the hands of the Gentiles. For those who date Matthew before AD 70, it was nevertheless a period in which tensions were building toward that Judean revolt. Regardless of the date, Matthew’s Gospel addresses an audience that has suffered at the hands of Gentiles and likely has every reason to hate them. Yet Matthew’s message calls them to cross all barriers in order to reach these very Gentile ‘enemies’—even Canaanites and Roman officers. If his Gospel could call that initial audience to lay aside their prejudice in such a way, it certainly can summon us to do no less—to overcome ethnic and cultural prejudice in order to love and serve others no matter what the cost. This is a message of ethnic reconciliation in Christ as well as a summons to global mission.

Baptism is an act of repentance, a response to a particular message (as in 3:2-6). For Matthew, the message now inviting baptism reveals the involvement of the triune God in God’s kingdom, hence demands submission to the Lordship of Jesus Christ.

When Matthew’s audience reaches chapter 28, they can think of the one water baptism already mentioned—John’s baptism (3:6), which was meant to prepare for Jesus’s greater baptism in the Holy Spirit (3:11). What did John’s baptism signify?

Although the Jewish people had many kinds of ceremonial washings, a specific baptism used for a turning from an old way of life to a new one was applied to Gentiles converting to Judaism. As already noted, with respect to salvation, John the Baptist treats his Jewish hearers in the same way that they would treat Gentiles—that is, all must come to God on the same terms. Baptism was an act of turning to God, and in baptizing Israel for repentance, John (like the prophets of old) was calling them to turn to God. Baptism was a response to John’s message, which is what differentiated it from other kinds of ceremonial washings. Thus, in emulating John’s model in baptizing, we are evangelizing (i.e., proclaiming the message of the kingdom and repentance).

When John baptized, he was inviting people to embrace his message of repentance (3:6; cf. Mk 1:4) and of the kingdom. That is, he was not administering an ordinary proselyte baptism but was baptizing people with respect to a distinctive message. Matthew summarizes both John’s and Jesus’s message—“Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand” (3:2 and 4:17). And when Jesus sends the Twelve, he commands them to announce that “The kingdom of heaven is at hand” (10:7).

Thus, there is a continuity in the central message concerning the kingdom, a continuity that suggests Matthew expects this proclamation to also be his audience’s message. For the Israelites, the good news of God’s reign signified the restoration of his people (Isa 52:7) and that he would rule unchallenged. Most Palestinian Jews associated the coming of God’s reign with the Davidic Messiah and resurrection from the dead. But we know that the Messiah has both come and is yet to come and that the resurrection has already been inaugurated in history. Therefore, we understand that God, who will consummate his kingdom in the future, has already inaugurated his reign through Jesus’s first coming. Matthew balances Jesus’s seven parables of the future kingdom (24:32—25:46) with his seven or eight parables of the present one (13:1-52).

Presumably, other aspects that this passage associates with the kingdom message not revoked later in the Gospel are expected to continue. Signs confirmed God’s reign not only in Jesus’s ministry (4:23-25), but also in the ministry of his disciples (10:8). In fact, in the context of Jesus’s commission in chapter 10, he sends them precisely to multiply his ministry of proclaiming and demonstrating the kingdom (9:35-10:1). Since that objective certainly remains part of the Great Commission, we should expect that God will also provide signs of the kingdom as we work to make disciples of the nations today. While it’s unlikely that all of us individually will encounter the same signs to the same degree, we can nevertheless expect God to confirm the true message of the kingdom that we proclaim (cf. Acts 14:3).

However, despite the continuity in our message, ever since Jesus’s resurrection, we do have a fuller kingdom message to proclaim. Jesus did imply the “kingdom” when he spoke of authority in 28:18, but now that authority has been delegated to him. Thus, the message of the kingdom is not simply that “heaven” will reign but, more specifically, that the reigning God is Father, Son, and Holy Spirit (28:19). Matthew’s Gospel already announced that Jesus had authority on earth to forgive sins (9:6), probably echoing the authority of the Son of Man in Daniel 7:13-14. But now, Jesus has all authority in heaven as well as on earth (28:19); the kingdom of heaven explicitly includes he reign. (Matthew emphasizes Jesus’s authority repeatedly before climaxing at this point [see 7:29; 8:9; 9:8; 21:27] and his repeated authority over sickness, demons, and nature.)

Moreover, Jesus’s promise to be “with them” until the end of the age (28:20) was a divine promise. Judaism acknowledged only God as omnipresent; later, the rabbis called him makom (‘the place’) as a way of emphasizing his omnipresence. But Jesus is with all of us in carrying out his commission. This claim climaxes yet another motif in Matthew’s Gospel, for the beginning scene announces Jesus as none other than “God with us” (1:23). Later, Jesus tells his disciples that, where two or three are gathered in his name, there he is among them (18:20). This claim recalls a familiar Jewish principle: where two or three gathered to study God’s Torah, his Shekinah (presence) was among them. Jesus is thus indicating that he is the very presence of God.

This rank and identity is most explicit in the baptismal message of 28:19 itself. Where John preached a baptism of repentance in light of the coming kingdom, we preach a baptism in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Our baptism involves the reign of heaven, which we now understand in terms of the triune God. Jewish people regularly invoked God as Father, and they also recognized the Spirit as divine. So to place the Son between the Father and the Spirit is to claim nothing less than Jesus’s deity. When persons are baptized, they should confess Jesus as Lord. When we preach the kingdom now, we can be specific as to who is king in the kingdom of God—Jesus Christ, as well as the Father and the Spirit.

The immediate context of 28:18-20 offers us another example of proclamation—both positive and negative models. In 28:1-10, Jesus commissions the two women (Mary Magdalene and the other Mary) to carry the message of his resurrection and to bear witness faithfully, which they do, despite the prejudice against a woman’s testimony throughout ancient Mediterranean culture. By contrast, in 28:11-15, those who guarded the now-empty tomb, because of fear and greed, bear a false witness. These two models immediately precede the commissioning of the Eleven to make disciples of the nations, a legacy the disciples imparted to those whom they discipled. Thus, the women at the tomb offer the positive model for the church’s message, whereas the guards offer the antithesis of that model.

From Matthew’s perspective, discipleship is not limited to evangelism; it also includes training those who will be our partners in evangelism. It seems the churches of Asia already understand this, whereas many in North America are weak on both evangelism and training. At least in the United States, the Church has lost much of its emphasis on teaching Scripture, many things instead being driven by marketing. While marketing can be a useful tool, it’s not a criterion of truth or morality. Some messages are more popular than others because they’re more marketable.

Too many churches across the theological spectrum have succumbed to the culture’s values, (e.g., its sexual mores, materialism) or fight for their tradition or focus on charismatic speakers’ experiences, etc. And many churches in the West today neglect the very Scriptures that we claim as our arbiters of truth and as living expressions of God’s voice. Syncretism with the world’s ‘spiritual values,’ such as the worship of mammon alongside God, has weakened much of the Church in my nation.

What the Church calls ‘missions’ is not just about evangelism, but also about training disciples who can partner in the task of evangelism. It must involve multiplying the work by trusting the Holy Spirit and Christ’s teaching to multiply equally committed laborers for the harvest.

When Jesus speaks of “teaching them to obey everything I commanded you” (28:20), Matthew’s audience will think of the teachings already shared earlier in the Gospel. Many of those teachings are arranged in five major discourse sections, each ending in a clause like, "when Jesus had finished these sayings" (7:28; 11:1; 13:53; 19:1; 26:1). These discourses address the ethics of the kingdom (chapters 5-7), the proclamation of the kingdom (chapter 10), the presence of the kingdom (chapter 13), relationships in the kingdom (chapter 18), and the future of the kingdom from the standpoint of Jesus’s first disciples (chapters 23-25). That last section includes the “woes” against the religious establishment as well as the destruction of the temple and judgment of the generation that rejected Jesus. Yet it also looks ahead to judgment on the generation of his second coming, when some of his servants are oblivious to his demands, as was the religious establishment at his first coming (24:45-51; 25:14-30).

Although Matthew’s audience might well think of all of Jesus’s teachings in this Gospel, I will focus specifically on the ones that concern the “cost of discipleship.” Those who are to make disciples of the nations must first understand what discipleship involves. In the kingdom (as opposed to contemporary models of Jesus’s day), his followers are not to make disciples for themselves but only for him, the one true Rabbi (23:8). In the calling of disciples, Jesus made clear that discipleship would require the following “costs”:

True disciples must value Jesus above job security. The disciples he called left their nets to follow him. While ordinary fishermen were not among the elite, they were probably better off than the majority of people who were peasant farmers. At least some of them, like Peter, were married (8:14), hence had families to support (since wives earned scant wages in that culture). Thus, to forsake their livelihoods for ministry was a serious act of faith.

True disciples must value Jesus above residential security. Seeing Jesus about to cross the lake, a prospective disciple offers to follow him wherever he goes, “even across this lake” (8:18-19). Despite having a home in Capernaum (4:13), Jesus’s itinerant ministry, in a sense, left him no place to rest (8:20), except maybe on a boat during a storm (8:24). Elsewhere, Matthew shows that, even as an infant, Jesus was a refugee (2:13-15). Thus, those who follow him will have no certain home in this world.

True disciples must value Jesus above financial security. Jesus admonished a rich young man who wanted eternal life to give everything he had to the poor (19:21). Radical teachers in antiquity sometimes tested their would-be disciples to see if they were willing to count the cost. But the principle in Jesus’s demand extends beyond this particular rich man. He summons all his disciples to lay up treasures in heaven rather than on earth (6:19-21) and to concern themselves with the affairs of the kingdom rather than with the source of their food or drink (6:24-34).

True disciples must value Jesus above social obligations. Wishing to defer discipleship, one prospective disciple tells Jesus he wants to first bury his father. Jesus’s seemingly curt response is for this man to follow him now and leave the burying to others (8:21-22). In those days, on learning that his father had died, a son would have gone home immediately and would not have even been talking with Jesus. Likely the son is asking for either of two things as a delaying tactic. One possibility was for as much as a year’s delay; after the initial burial and seven days of mourning, he would need to remain available for the secondary burial a year later. The other possibility was for an indefinite delay; in a related Middle Eastern idiom, one can speak of fulfilling a final filial obligation with reference to the father’s future death (meaning here that the father might not even have died yet).

Whichever of the two was more likely, neither would significantly reduce the social scandal of Jesus’s demand, for many Jewish sages considered honoring parents a son’s greatest responsibility, and burying them was perhaps the greatest expression of that responsibility. Only God himself could take precedence over parents in such a matter! A son who failed to fulfill this task would be ostracized in his home village for the rest of his life. Notwithstanding, the call to follow Jesus, who is “God with us” (1:23), takes priority over social obligations and honor.

Yet all the costs of discipleship pale in comparison to the ultimate demand Jesus places on prospective followers. For those who want to be his disciples must take up their cross and follow him—to the cross (16:24). In Jesus’s day, when people spoke of “going to the cross,” they normally meant being led to execution, often through a hostile mob. Jesus demands nothing less than his followers’ lives.

While there may be an element of hyperbole in some of Jesus’s teachings, the point of hyperbole is not so that hearers will dismiss it lightly as simply hyperbole, as it is sometimes portrayed today. The point of hyperbole is to challenge the hearers. Nevertheless, while Jesus’s standard is an absolute one, it is implemented with grace, as Matthew’s narratives reveal. Jesus warned that a true disciple must follow him to the cross. However, even his first disciples abandoned him and fled (26:56), their failure leaving the Romans to ‘draft’ a bystander (Simon of Cyrene) to carry the cross that Jesus’s disciples failed to carry for him (27:32). Yet he never repudiated his disciples. Instead, he patiently molded them into what he had called them to be. Likewise, fully aware of what we are made of, Jesus can nonetheless make us into what he has called us to be.

Matthew 28:19-20 pulls together some major themes that run through the rest of the Gospel. Its one command—making disciples of the nations—involves three elements found in subordinate participial clauses. These are going, baptizing, and teaching. Each of the themes implied in these phrases appears throughout the Gospel. Matthew repeatedly emphasizes the role of Gentiles (1:3-6; 2:1-2; 8:10-12; 15:21-28; 24:14; 27:54; cf. 3:9; 4:15; 8:28; 10:15; 11:23-24; 12:41-42; 16:13; 25:32), hence cross-cultural concern. John’s baptism involved the message of the kingdom (3:2; cf. 4:17; 10:7); but the Gospel climaxes by declaring a baptism the message of which reveals the fullness of God that Christian tradition calls the Trinity. Jesus, who has all authority, is king in God’s kingdom (28:18), is linked with the Father and Spirit (28:19), and is with his people (28:20) as “God with us” (1:23; 18:20). The two women and the guards provide contrasting models for announcing Jesus’s message (28:1-15). Lastly, the Gospel is replete with Jesus’s teachings, including not only five discourse sections, but also other specific teachings on the cost of discipleship relevant to the new mission (e.g., 4:19-20; 8:20, 22; 16:24; 19:21).

This survey offers implications for the Church’s missionary task. The Great Commission is not an idea Matthew tacked inelegantly to the end of his Gospel as if he had nowhere else to put it. Rather, it summarizes the heart of this Gospel’s message. The question it presents to us as believers today is whether we will devote our lives to what Christ has commanded.

Each of us has different gifts and callings, but we must organize those gifts around this central task. Like a nation devoted to some all-consuming war, we must engage in total mobilization, bringing to bear all of our resources for this mission. Our conflict, though, is a spiritual one, not with flesh and blood, and it invites us to devote all that we are and have to mobilize the Church to fulfill Christ’s mission. Never before have the stakes been so high. Some estimate that the world’s population was one billion by 1830 and two billion by 1930; it is close to seven billion today. God’s power will be commensurate with the task he gives us. Are we ready?

The first participle (“going”) may be part of the command (“make disciples”; Cleon Rogers, “The Great Commission,” Bibliotheca Sacra 130 [1973]: 258-67), but Matthew does often coordinate this participle with the main verb (cf. 2:8; 11:4; 17:27; 28:7; Craig L. Blomberg, Matthew [NAC 22; Nashville: Broadman, 1992], 431). Even as an attendant circumstance participle, it remains an essential part of the commission (Daniel B. Wallace, Greek Grammar Beyond the Basics [Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1996], 645).

“Ways of Gentiles” probably meant roads leading to Gentile cities in or around Palestine (cf. T. W. Manson, The Sayings of Jesus [Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1979; London: SCM, 1957], 179; Joachim Jeremias, Jesus’s Promise to the Nations [trans. S. H. Hooke; SBT 24; London: SCM, 1958], 19 n. 3). Samaria and Gentile territories surrounded Galilee; Jesus’s instructions thus restricted their immediate mission to Galilee (see Robert H. Gundry, Matthew: A Commentary on his Literary and Theological Art [Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1982], 185).

For the fame of the matriarchs, see e.g., Jub. 36:23-24; 1Qap Genar 20.2-10; ’Ab. R. Nat. 26, §54B.

With e.g., Eduard Schweizer, The Good News According to Matthew (trans. David E. Green; Atlanta: John Knox, 1975), 25; Bo Reicke, The New Testament Era: The World of the Bible from 500 B.C. to A.D. 100 (trans. David E. Green; Philadelphia: Fortress, 1974), 118; F. F. Bruce, The Message of the New Testament (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1981), 65; Gundry, Matthew, 15; David Garland, Reading Matthew: A Literary and Theological Commentary on the First Gospel (New York: Crossroad, 1993), 18. For early Jewish emphasis on their Gentile character, see e.g., Yair Zakowitch, “Rahab also Mutter des Boas in der Jesus-Genealogie (Matth. I 5),” Novum Testamentum 17 (1975): 1-5; Jeremias, Promise, 13-14; Marshall D. Johnson, The Purpose of the Biblical Genealogies: with Special reference to the Setting of the Genealogies of Jesus (2d ed.; SNTSMS 8; Cambridge: Cambridge University, 1988), 167-70. Some commentators instead associate these women with sexual scandal, but the pattern does not fit Tamar, and miraculous matriarchal births would have better prepared for the virgin birth (1:18-25) than scandalous ones did.

See e.g., L.A.B. 9:5; T. Jud. 10:6.

E.g., Rahab hides spies on her roof; Achan hides loot beneath his tent; Rahab saves her family by betraying her people, whereas Achan destroys his family by betraying his people; and so forth (see J. Scott Duvall and J. Daniel Hays, Grasping God’s Word [Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2001], 297-98).

E.g., Josephus Apion 1.30; cf. b. Pes. 62b; p. Ter. 7:1; Johnson 1988: 88-95.

Cf. Gundry, Matthew, 10, 13; Daniel Patte, The Gospel According to Matthew: A Structural Commentary on Matthew’s Faith (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1987), 18.

Historically, officials did bring congratulations to other rulers (e.g., Josephus War 2.309; 4.498-501; Acts 25:13; Ludwig Friedländer, Roman Life and Manners Under the Early Empire (4 vols.; trans. from the 7th rev. ed., Leonard A. Magnus, J. H. Freese, and A. B. Gough; New York: Barnes & Noble, 1907-1965), 1:211; Robert F. O’Toole, Acts 26: The Christological Climax of Paul’s Defense [Ac 22:1—26:36] [AnBib 78; Rome: Biblical Institute, 1978], 16-17); the Magi’s visit to Jerusalem probably assumed that the new king was born in the palace (though Bethlehem is only about six miles away; Student Map Manual: Historical Geography of the Bible Lands [ed. J. Monson; Grand Rapids: Zondervan; Jerusalem: Pictorial Archive, 1979], 1-1).

See e.g., Josephus Ant. 18.348. Some may have been Zoroastrian, but evidence may be lacking that Zoroastrian religion was already as widespread as some scholars suppose (see Edwin M. Yamauchi, Persia and the Bible, foreword Donald J. Wiseman [Grand Rapids: Baker, 1996], 395-466; idem, “Did Persian Zoroastrianism Influence Judaism?” 282-97 in Israel: Ancient Kingdom or Late Invention?, ed. Daniel I. Block, Bryan H. Cribb and Gregory S. Smith [Nashville: Broadman & Holman Academic, 2008], 291-92).

E.g., 1 En. 6:7, MSS; 8:3; Jub. 8:3; 12:17; 13:16-18; Philo Praem. 58; Syr. Men. Sent. 292-93; Sib. Or. 3:221-22, 227-29; Sipra Qed. pq.6.203.2.1; Sipre Deut. 171.4.1; still, astrology exerted a wide influence even in early Judaism (e.g., Mek. Pisha 2.44-46). Magi appear negatively in Dan 2:2, 10 LXX; more widely in Theodotian and Aquila; also Josephus Ant. 10.195-203.

Ancient audiences were accustomed to comparing characters (on this practice, see e.g., Theon Progymn. 2.86-88; Hermog. Progymn. 8. On Syncrisis 18-20; Peter Marshall, Enmity in Corinth: Social Conventions in Paul’s Relations with the Corinthians [WUNT 2, Reihe, 23; Tübingen: J. C. B. Mohr (Paul Siebeck), 1987], 348-53; R. Dean Anderson, Jr., Glossary of Greek Rhetorical Terms Connected to Methods of Argumentation, Figures and Tropes from Anaximenes to Quintilian [Leuven: Peeters, 2000], 110-11; Craig S. Keener, The Gospel of John: A Commentary (2 vols.; Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, 2003), 916-17, 1183-84).

E.g., Josephus Ant. 14.76; 15.298; 16.147; 19.329, 359; War 2.266. His building projects and “benefactions” were not, however, limited to Palestine (e.g., War 1.422-28).

E.g., Ant. 16.394; 17.187, 191; War 1.443-44, 550-51, 664-65. For other atrocities or attempted atrocities, see e.g., Ant. 17.174-79; War 1.437, 659-60. The Herod of Matt 2 acts “in character” with what we know of him historically.

Cf. another pagan king in 1 Macc 1:60-61; 2 Macc 6:10; 8:4.

Historically, the Sanhedrin of Herod’s day were his political lackeys, installed after he executed their predecessors (Ant. 14.175; 15.2, 5-6).

See especially m. Sanh. 10:1.

See more detailed discussion on the background in Keener, Matthew (1999), 124-25, and idem, "Human Stones in a Greek Setting: Luke 3.8; Matthew 3.9; Luke 19.40," Journal of Greco-Roman Christianity and Judaism 6 (2009): 28-36; for John’s preceding denunciation of the religious establishment as the offspring of vipers, see idem, “‘Brood of Vipers’ (Mt. 3.7; 12.34; 23.33),” Journal for the Study of the New Testament 28, no. 1 (Sept. 2005): 3-11.

On Gadara’s predominantly Gentile character, cf. e.g., Josephus Ant. 17.320; War 2.478.

The centurion was probably geographically from the eastern empire, perhaps Syria (cf. Josephus War 2.267-68; G. H. Stevenson, “The Army and Navy,” 218-38 in The Augustan Empire: 44 B.C.–A.D. 70, vol. 10 in The Cambridge Ancient History [12 vols.; ed. S. A. Cook, F. E. Adcock and M. P. Charlesworth; Cambridge: University Press, 1966], 226-27; John Brian Campbell, “Legion,” 839-42 in OCD, 839), but he officially represents Rome.

The thought would be intelligible in an early Jewish setting. Some later rabbis suggested that Gentile converts would testify against the nations in the judgment (Lev. Rab. 2:9; Pesiq. Rab. 35:3), and some found in Nineveh’s quick repentance a threat to Israel (Mek. Pisha 1.81-82).

The prophets used Sodom to epitomize immorality (Is 13:19; Jer 50:40; Zeph 2:9) and applied the image to Israel (Deut 32:32; Isa 1:10; 3:9; Jer 23:14; Lam 4:6; Ezek 16:46-49). It continued to epitomize immorality in early Judaism (e.g., Sir 16:8; Jub. 36:10; 3 Macc 2:5; t. Sanh. 13:8; Shab. 7:23; Sipra Behuq. par. 2.264.1.3; Sipre Deut. 43.3.5).

See discussion in Gerd Theissen, The Gospels in Context: Social and Political History in the Synoptic Tradition (trans. Linda M. Maloney; Minneapolis: Fortress, 1991), 70-72.

Some find some continuity with Canaanite culture in this period (R. A. Oden, Jr., “The Persistence of Cananite Religion,” Biblical Archaeologist 39 (1976): 31-36; David Flusser, “Paganism in Palestine,” 2:1065-1100 in The Jewish People in the First Century: Historial Geography, Political History, Social, Cultural and Religious Life and Institutions [2 vols.; ed. S. Safrai and M. Stern with D. Flusser and W. C. van Unnik; vol. 1: Assen: Van Gorcum & Comp., B.V., 1974; Vol. 2: Philadelphia: Fortress, 1976], 1070-74).

See Pliny N.H. 5.15.71; Josephus War 1.404; further Josephus, The Jewish War (ed. Gaalya Cornfeld with Benjamin Mazar and Paul L. Maier; Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1982), 458; Vassilios Tzaferis, “Cults and Deities Worshipped at Caesarea Philippi-Banias,” 190-201 in Priests, Prophets and Scribes: Essays on the Formation and Heritage of Second Temple Judaism in Honour of Joseph Blenkinsopp (ed. Eugene Ulrich et al., 1992); Vassilios Tzaferis and R. Avner, “Hpyrwt b’ny’s,” Qadmoniot 23, nos. 3-4 (1990). 110-14.

Mark notes only the centurion (Mk 15:39); Matthew broadens this to his colleagues. The detachment for execution may have been as few as four (cf. Acts 12:4; Kirsopp Lake and Henry J. Cadbury, English Translation and Commentary [vol. 4 in The Beginnings of Christianity; Grand Rapids: Baker, 1979], 134; Philostratus Vit. Apoll. 7.31).

Cf. e.g., Jub. 23:11-25 (esp. 23:13; 36:1); 1QM 15.1; Sib. Or. 3.213-15; 4 Ezra 8:63-9:8; 13:30; 2 Bar. 26:1-27:13; 69:3-5; T. Mos. 7–8; m. Sot. 9:15.

Historically most interpreters applied the passage specifically to believers (whether as the believing poor or, as more often today, to missionaries; for the history of interpretation, see Sherman W. Gray, The Least of My Brothers: Matthew 25.31-46: A History of Interpretation [SBLDS 114; Atlanta: Scholars, 1989]).

E.g., F. F. Bruce, The New Testament Documents: Are They Reliable? (5th rev. ed.; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans; Leicester: Inter-Varsity, 1981), 40; Robert H. Mounce, Matthew (Good News Commentary; San Francisco: Harper & Row, 1985), xv; W. D. Davies and Dale C. Allison, A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Gospel According to Saint Matthew (ICC; 3 vols.; Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1988-1997), 1:127-38.

E.g., Gundry, Matthew, 599-608; John A. T. Robinson, Can We Trust the New Testament? (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1977), 76-78.

For this background, see e.g., H. H. Rowley, “Jewish Proselyte Baptism and the Baptism of John,” HUCA 15 (1940): 313-34; F. F. Bruce, New Testament History (Garden City, NY: Doubleday & Company, 1972), 156; I argue the case in some detail in Keener, John, 445-47.

With e.g., Joachim Jeremias, The Parables of Jesus (2nd rev. ed.; New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1972), 92-93.

See my further comment in Craig Keener, Gift & Giver: The Holy Spirit for Today (Grand Rapids: Baker, 2001), 100-1; cf. idem, The Spirit in the Gospels and Acts: Divine Purity and Power (Peabody: Hendrickson Publishers, 1997), 110-17.

Besides my Gift & Giver, noted above, see more generally e.g., (among many others) John Wimber with Kevin Springer, Power Evangelism (San Francisco: Harper & Row, Publishers, 1986); Jack Deere, Surprised by the Power of the Spirit (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1993); my forthcoming book on Miracles (Hendrickson).

Some Jewish texts employ “kingdom of heaven” as periphrasis for “God’s kingdom” (Sipra Qed. pq. 9.207.2.13; p. Kid. 1:2, §24), though these seem particularly characteristic of Matthew. For “heaven” as a familiar Jewish periphrasis for “God,” see e.g., Dan 4:26; 3 Macc. 4:21; 1 En. 6:2; 1QM 12.5; Rom 1:18; Lk 15:18; m. Ab. 1:3; t. B.K. 7:5; Sipra Behuq. pq. 6. 267.2.1; 79.1.1.

E.g., 3 En. 18:24; m. Ab. 2:9, 13; 3:14; t. Peah 1:4; 3:8; Shab. 7:22, 25; 13:5; R.H. 1:18; Taan. 2:13; B.K. 7:7; Sanh. 1:2; 13:1, 6; 14:3, 10; Sipre Num. 11.2.3; 11.3.1; 42/1/2; 42.2.3; 76.2.2; 78.1.1; 78.5.1; 80.1.1; 82.3.1; 84.1.1; 84.5.1; 85.3.1; 85.4.1; 85.5.1; Sipra VDDen. pq. 2.2.4.2; 4.6.4.1.

M. Ab. 3:2, 6; Mek. Bahodesh 11.48ff; cf. m. Ber. 7:3.

E.g., Sir 23:1, 4; 3 Macc 6:8; m. Sot. 9:15; t. Ber. 3:14; B.K. 7:6; Hag. 2:1; Peah 4:21; Sipra Qed. pq. 9.207.2.13; Behuq. pq. 8.269.2.15; Sipre Deut. 352.1.2.

In contrast to Christian theology, however, they viewed the Spirit as an aspect of God rather than a distinct divine person (cf. e.g., discussion in Keener, John, 961-66; idem, “Spirit, Holy Spirit, Advocate, Breath, Wind,” 484-96 in The Westminster Theological Wordbook of the Bible [ed. Donald E. Gowan; Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox, 2003], 484-87, 495-96). It is not impossible that baptism “in the name of the Holy Spirit” might relate somehow (perhaps symbolically) to baptism in the Spirit (Matt 3:11), but apart from noting the shared terms I have not yet tried to test this question exegetically.

See e.g., Josephus Ant. 4.219; m. Yeb. 15:1, 8-10; 16:7; Ket. 1:6-9; t. Yeb. 14:10; Sipra VDDeho. pq. 7.45.1.1; Hesiod W.D. 375; Livy 6.34.6-7; Babrius 16.10; Phaedrus 4.15; Avianus Fables 15-16; Justinian Inst. 2.10.6 (though contrast the earlier Gaius Inst. 2.105); Plutarch Publicola 8.4; cf. Lk 24:11; Craig Keener, Paul, Women & Wives: Marriage and Women’s Ministry in the Letters of Paul (Peabody, MA: Hendrickson Publishers, 1992), 162-63.

Their fear and greed evoke the failures of Peter (who denied Jesus from fear, 26:70-75) and Judas (who betrayed Jesus from greed, 26:15-16; on the narrative contrasts with Judas in that context, see Keener, Matthew [1999], 617, 620).

Keener, Matthew (1999), 699, 715.

See e.g., the biblical strategy in Melvin L. Hodges, The Indigenous Church (Springfield, MO: Gospel Publishing House, 1976).

Some have followed Papias in comparing the five sections with the Pentateuch (Bruce, Documents, 41; idem, Message, 62-63; Peter F. Ellis, Matthew: His Mind and His Message [Collegeville, MN: The Liturgical, 1974], 10; Samuel Sandmel, Anti-Semitism in the New Testament? [Philadelphia: Fortress, 1978], 51), but most who recognize five sections fail to find this correspondence (Davies and Allison, Matthew, 1:61; Donald A. Hagner, Matthew [2 vols.; WBC 33AB; Dallas: Word, 1993-1995], 1:li).

Such phrases offered a natural way to close a section; see e.g., Ex 34:33; Jub. 32:20; 50:13; Dale C. Allison, The New Moses: A Matthean Typology (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1993), 192-93 compares Deut 31:1, 24; 32:45.

For the phrase, see Dietrich Bonhoeffer, The Cost of Discipleship (rev. ed.; New York: Macmillan; London: SCM, 1963).

In Jesus’s day, probably an honorary greeting meaning, “my master” (23:7-8). Likewise, “father” (23:9), while a greeting applicable to all elders, was particularly applicable to teachers (2 Kgs 2:12; 4 Bar. 2:4, 6, 8; 5:5; t. Sanh. 7:9; Sipre Deut. 34.3.1-3, 5; 305.3.4).

With Sean Freyne, Galilee, Jesus and the Gospels: Literary Approaches and Historical Investigations (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1988), 241; cf. John Wilkinson, Jerusalem as Jesus Knew It: Archaeology as Evidence (London: Thames and Hudson, 1978), 29-30; Martin Hengel, Property and Riches in the Early Church: Aspects of Social History of Early Christianity (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1974), 27.

For women’s status in some ancient Mediterranean societies, see e.g., discussion in Sarah B. Pomeroy, Goddesses, Whores, Wives, and Slaves: Women in Classical Antiquity (New York: Schocken, 1975); Jane F. Gardner, Women in Roman Law & Society (Bloomington: Indiana University, 1986); Tal Ilan, Jewish Women in Greco-Roman Palestine (Tübingen: J. C. B. Mohr; Peabody: Hendrickson, 1996); Craig Keener, “Marriage,” 680-93 in Dictionary of New Testament Background (ed. Craig A. Evans and Stanley E. Porter; Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity, 2000), 687-90; idem, Paul, Women & Wives, passim.

Accounts of people forsaking everything to convert to Judaism (Sipre Num. 115.5.7) or philosophy (Diogenes Laertius 6.5.87; Diogenes Ep. 38) underlined the value of what the converts were acquiring (cf. Matt 13:44-46).

For the contextual connection, see Jack Dean Kingsbury, “On Following Jesus: the 'Eager' Scribe and the ‘Reluctant’ Disciple (Matthew 8.18-22),” New Testament Studies 34 (1988): 45-59, here 56.

His comparison with birds (cf. Ps 11:1; 84:3; 102:6-7; 124:7; Prov 27:8; at Qumran, cf. Otto Betz, What Do We Know About Jesus? [Philadelphia: Westminster; London: SCM, 1968], 72) and foxes (Lam 5:18; Ezek 13:4) is apt, since they lacked much residential security; he lacked more.

It might be noteworthy that Matthew omits the makeshift cushion in Mk 4:38.

E.g., Diogenes Laertius 6.2.36, 75-76; 6.5.87; 7.1.22; cf. Aulus Gellius 19.1.7-10. Such teachers intended these challenges as tests, not absolute rejection; they normally accepted as disciples those who agreed to their demands (Diogenes Laertius 6.2.21; Diogenes Ep. 38; cf. Sipre Num. 115.5.7).

Jesus adapted widely used language and imagery here (e.g., Sir 29:10-11; 4 Ezra 7:77; 2 Bar. 14:12; 24:1; 44:14; t. Peah 4:18).

Cf. Sir 22:12; Jdt 16:24; S. Safrai, “Home and Family,” 728-92 in Jewish People in the First Century, 782.

See Byron R. McCane, “‘Let the Dead Bury Their Own Dead’: Secondary Burial and Matt 8:21-22,” Harvard Theological Review 83 (1990): 31-43.

Kenneth Ewing Bailey, Through Peasant Eyes: More Lucan Parables, Their Culture and Style (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1980), 26.

Let. Arist. 228; Josephus Apion 2.206; Ps.-Phoc. 8; George Foot Moore, Judaism in the First Centuries of the Christian Era (2 vols.; New York: Schocken, 1971), 2:132.

E.g., Tob 4:3-4; 6:14; 1 Macc 2:70; 4 Macc 16:11. Failure to bury a father was offensive throughout Mediterranean antiquity (e.g., Demosth. Against Aristogeiton 54).

Deut 13:6; 4 Macc 2:10-12; Josephus Apion 2.206; Ps.-Phoc. 8; b. Meg. 3b. Some teachers claimed priority over parents (e.g., m. B.M. 2:11; cf. Diodorus Siculus 10.3.4), but not to the extent of damaging funeral arrangements!

Jeremias, Parables, 218-19; idem, New Testament Theology (New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1971), 242.

A common ancient pedagogic device (e.g., Rhet. Her. 4.33.44; Cicero Orator 40.139; Philostratus V.A. 8.7; Hrk. 48.11; R. Dean Anderson, Jr., Glossary of Greek Rhetorical Terms, 122-24. Galen O. Rowe, “Style,” 121-57 in Handbook of Classical Rhetoric in the Hellenistic Period 330 B.C.―A.D. 400 [ed. Stanley E. Porter; Leiden: Brill, 1997], 128).

Keener, Matthew (1999), 676. On Simon of Cyrene, see e.g., Raymond E. Brown, The Death of the Messiah: From Gethsemane to Grave. A Commentary on the Passion Narratives in the Four Gospels (2 vols.; New York: Doubleday, 1994), 913.

The term may stem from the late second-century North African theologian Tertullian (see e.g., R. L. Richard, “Trinity, Holy,” 14:293-306 in New Catholic Encyclopedia [17 vols.; Washington, D.C.: Catholic University of America, 1967], 297), but the idea is already present early in the New Testament (see e.g., Gordon D. Fee, God's Empowering Presence: The Holy Spirit in the Letters of Paul [Peabody: Hendrickson, 1994], 839-42).