1. The setting (13:1–3a)

OVERVIEW

Matthew 12–13 depend in large part on Mark 2:23–3:12; 3:20–4:34. Before this comes 11:2–30, most of which is paralleled in various parts of Luke. Daniel Boerman (“The Chiastic Structure of Matthew 11–12,” CTJ 40 [2005]: 313–25) discerns a chiastic structure in Matthew 11–12, but it is not altogether convincing. Thematically, the three chapters (chs. 11–13) are held together by the rising tide of disappointment in and opposition to the kingdom of God that was resulting from Jesus’ ministry. He was not turning out to be the kind of Messiah the people had expected. Even John the Baptist had doubts (11:2–19), and the Galilean cities that were sites of most of Jesus’ miracles hardened themselves in unbelief (vv.20–24). The nature of Jesus’ person and ministry was “hidden” (an important word) from the wise, despite the most open and compassionate of invitations (vv.28–30). Conflicts with Jewish leaders began to intensify (12:1–45), while people still misunderstood the most basic elements of Jesus’ teaching and authority (12:46–50). But does this mean he had been checkmated or that the kingdom had not come after all? Matthew 13 is the answer—the kingdom of God was continuing its advance, even though it was often contested and ignored.

OVERVIEW

Matthew 11:2–19 is closely paralleled by Luke 7:18–35. Occasional divergences are noted below (see esp.

2When John heard in prison what Christ was doing, he sent his disciples 3to ask him, “Are you the one who was to come, or should we expect someone else?”

4Jesus replied, “Go back and report to John what you hear and see: 5The blind receive sight, the lame walk, those who have leprosy are cured, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the good news is preached to the poor. 6Blessed is the man who does not fall away on account of me.”

COMMENTARY

2–3 According to Josephus (Ant. 18.119 [5.2]), Herod imprisoned John the Baptist in the fortress of Machaerus, east of the Dead Sea. The bare fact is recorded in Matthew 4:12, the circumstances in 14:3–5. Apparently John had been in prison during Jesus’ extensive Galilean ministry, perhaps as long as a year. The one to whom he had pointed, the one who would come in blessing and judgment (3:11–12), had brought healing to many but, it would seem, judgment to none—not even to those who had immorally and unlawfully confined the Baptist in a cruel prison, doubtless made the more unbearable for its contrast with his accustomed freedom (cf. Lk 1:80).

John heard “what Christ was doing” (v.2). The clause hides two subtle points. First, the use of (lit.) “the Christ” is peculiar, for at this stage in Jesus’ ministry there was but little thoughtful ascription of this title to Jesus; and Matthew normally avoids it. Some have thought that at this point Matthew was somewhat careless about consistency in his narrative. Precisely the opposite is the case. His entire gospel is written from the perspective of faith. The very first verse affirms Jesus as the Messiah, and the prologue (chs. 1–2) seeks to prove it. So at this point Matthew somewhat unusually refers to Jesus as “the Christ” in order to remind his readers who it was that John the Baptist was doubting. Though John doubted, from Matthew’s perspective the time for doubt had passed. Far from being an anachronism, this use of “the Christ” is Matthew’s own designation of Jesus. Indeed, Matthew’s fidelity is attested by the way he distinguishes between his own understanding and insight, drawn from his postresurrection perspective, and the gradual development of that understanding historically, including the Baptist’s doubts.

The second point is that ta erga tou Christou (lit., “the works of Christ”; NIV, “what Christ was doing”) is suitably vague to embrace a triple allusion, not only to Jesus’ miracles (chs. 8–9), but also to his teaching (chs. 5–7) and growing mission (ch. 10).

As a result of these reports, John sent a pointed question “by” (reading dia as in the NRSV, not duo [“two”] as in the KJV) his disciples. This use of “disciples” shows that the term is a nontechnical one for “Christians” or “the Twelve” in Matthew (see

;

). The objection, probably first raised by D. F. Strauss (The Life of Jesus Critically Examined [1846; repr. London: SCM Press, 1973], 219–30, esp. 229), that John was in no position to send messengers presumes to know more about security arrangements at Machaerus than we do—the more so since the Gospels show that Herod himself was ambivalent toward the prophet (Mk 6:17–26). John’s question was whether Jesus was ho erchomenos (“the coming one,” v.3, GK 2262), exactly the same expression ascribed to John at 3:11 (cf. also 21:9; 23:39; Jn 6:14; 11:27; Heb 10:37). The expression is not a common messianic title in intertestamental literature. It probably was drawn from such passages as Psalm 118:26; Isaiah 59:20. The description of the actions of “the coming one” in 3:11 nullifies the old theory (Schweitzer, Quest of the Historical Jesus) that the Baptist merely expected Elijah redivivus (“come to life again”) to follow him. John was asking Jesus whether he was the Messiah.

The question at first glance seems so out of character for what we know of the Baptist that many of the Fathers and Reformers suggest that John asked it, not for his own sake, but for the sake of his followers. Not a shred of exegetical evidence supports this view. Not only may the Baptist have become demoralized, like his namesake Elijah (cf. Keener), but the Baptist had preached in terms of imminent blessing and judgment (3:12; cf. G. R. Beasley-Murray, Jesus and the Kingdom of God [Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1986], 81). By contrast, Jesus was preaching in veiled fulfillment terms and bringing much blessing but no real judgment (cf. Dunn, Jesus and the Spirit, 55–62), and as a result the Baptist was having second thoughts. Wood (“Regathering of the People of God,” 513) convincingly argues that in addition to the link between Israel’s promised restoration and Messiah’s concern for the relief of certain physical ailments—a link established by Jesus’ use of the Isaiah texts—three other OT themes are called to mind: (1) the Deuteronomic curses result in diseases as a part of God’s judgment, so Jesus’ ministry is ending those curses; (2) the prophets regularly tie diseases to the harsh conditions of the exile, so Jesus’ ministry is ending the (spiritual) exile; and (3) Ezekiel suggests that much of the suffering of the people has come on them because of the wicked shepherds that have ruled over them, and now the ideal Davidic Shepherd-King has arrived.

4–6 Jesus’ answer briefly summarized his own miracles and preaching, but in the language of Isaiah 35:5–6; 61:1 (with possible allusions to 26:19; 29:18–19). At one level the answer was straightforward: Isaiah 61:1 is an explicit messianic passage, and Isaiah 35:5–6, though it has no messianic figure, describes the return of God’s people to Zion with accompanying blessings (e.g., restoration of sight). Jesus definitely claimed that these messianic visions were being fulfilled in the miracles he was performing and that his preaching the Good News to the poor (see

) was as explicit a fulfillment of the messianic promises of Isaiah 61:1–2 as Luke 4:17–21. The powers of darkness were being undermined; the kingdom was advancing (cf. v.12).

But there is a second, more subtle level to Jesus’ response. All four of the Isaiah passages refer to judgment in their immediate context: e.g., “your God will come ... with vengeance; with divine retribution” (35:4); “the day of vengeance of our God” (61:2). Thus Jesus was allusively responding to the Baptist’s question: the blessings promised for the end time have broken out and prove it is here, even though the judgments are delayed (cf. Jeremias, Jesus’ Promise, 46; Dunn, Jesus and the Spirit, 60). Matthew 11:6, which may include an allusion to Isaiah 8:13–14 (in which case Jesus is set in the place of Yahweh; see

), is then a gentle warning, applicable both to John and his disciples: Blessed (see

) is the “man who does not fall away” (for this verb, see

) on account of Jesus, i.e., who does not find in him and his ministry an obstacle to belief and therefore reject him. The miracles themselves were not irrefutable proof of who Jesus was (cf. Mk 8:11–12 and par.); faith was still required to read the evidence against the background of Scripture and to hear in Jesus’ claim the ring of truth. But the beatitude in this form assumes the questioner has begun well and now must avoid stumbling. It is therefore an implicit challenge to reexamine one’s presuppositions about what the Messiah should be and do in the light of Jesus and his fulfillment of Scripture and to bring one’s understanding and faith into line with him.

OVERVIEW

John had often borne witness to Jesus; now Jesus bears witness to John. But the effect is to point back to himself as the sole figure who brings in the kingdom. Historically it was almost inevitable for Jesus to define the position of John the Baptist with respect to himself. Most scholars doubt he did so consecutively, as set forth here. Nevertheless, the passage holds together well, and there is little literary or historical evidence to suggest this is a composite of words spoken on other occasions. The parallel in Luke 7:24–35 preserves the same themes and movement. It omits Matthew 11:12–13 and adds Luke 7:29–30. The extra verses in Matthew are usually said to derive from Mark 9:11–13. But the two passages are linguistically and thematically rather distinct, and it is easy to imagine that Jesus had to take some position on John more than once and very definitely so for his disciples. Moreover, the tone of this passage reflects no personal conflict between John and Jesus. And this is typical of the NT witness of the relationship between the two men (cf. esp. J. A. T. Robinson, Twelve New Testament Studies, 28–52).

7As John’s disciples were leaving, Jesus began to speak to the crowd about John: “What did you go out into the desert to see? A reed swayed by the wind? 8If not, what did you go out to see? A man dressed in fine clothes? No, those who wear fine clothes are in kings’ palaces. 9Then what did you go out to see? A prophet? Yes, I tell you, and more than a prophet. 10This is the one about whom it is written:

“‘I will send my messenger ahead of you,

who will prepare your way before you.’

11I tell you the truth: Among those born of women there has not risen anyone greater than John the Baptist; yet he who is least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he. 12From the days of John the Baptist until now, the kingdom of heaven has been forcefully advancing, and forceful men lay hold of it. 13For all the Prophets and the Law prophesied until John. 14And if you are willing to accept it, he is the Elijah who was to come. 15He who has ears, let him hear.”

COMMENTARY

7–8 “Began” does not imply that Jesus commenced his remarks while the Baptist’s disciples were leaving and completed them only after they had gone (Broadus); as in v.20, it means that he took the opportunity to speak to the crowd. The rhetorical questions about John are a gently ironic way of eliminating obviously false answers in order to give the truth in vv.10–11. “A reed [probably a collective singular referring to cane grass, found in abundance along the Jordan] swayed by the wind” suggests a fickle person, tossed about in his judgment by the winds of public opinion or private misfortune (Lucian uses a similar metaphor, BDAG, 502). Certainly the people did not go out to witness such an ordinary spectacle. Nor did they go out into the desert to find a man dressed “in fine clothes” (v.8). “Fine” (malakos), used elsewhere in the NT only at Luke 7:25 and 1 Corinthians 6:9, connotes “softness” or even “effeminacy” and may be ironic. Contrast the rugged garb the prophet actually wore (see

). Those who are “in kings’ palaces” is a sly dig at the man who was keeping John in prison.

It appears, then, that Jesus spoke in this way to disarm suspicion among the people that John’s question (v.3) might betray signs of fickleness (v.7) or undisciplined weakness (v.8). Not so, responds Jesus; the man the people went out to see was neither unstable nor faithless. His question arose not from personal weakness or failure but from misunderstanding about the nature of the Messiah, owing to John’s place in salvation history (see comments below). Hence Jesus addressed the crowd, not to defend himself following the Baptist’s question, but to defend the Baptist.

9–11 What the people had flocked to the desert to see was a prophet, since it was commonly agreed that a true prophet had not appeared for centuries but only the bat-qôl (lit., “daughter of a voice”; see

). Small wonder there was such excitement. Jesus confirms the crowd’s judgment but goes beyond it—John was not only a prophet but more than a prophet. In what respect? In this: Not only was he, like other OT prophets, a direct spokesman for God to call the nation to repentance, but he himself was also the subject of prophecy—the one who, according to Scripture, would announce the Day of Yahweh (v.10).

The form of the quotation shows influence from Exodus 23:20 (LXX) in the first clause (cf. Blomberg, “Matthew,” in CNTUOT). Yet there is no doubt that the primary passage being cited is Malachi 3:1. The messenger in Malachi 3:1 (Elijah in Mal 4:5–6) prepares the way for the great and dreadful Day of Yahweh. The form of the text, adding “ahead of you” (probably by using Ex 23:20) in the first line, changing “before me” to “before you” in the second line, and adding “your,” has the effect, on one interpretation, of making Yahweh address Messiah. On any reading of Malachi 3:1 (see France, Jesus and the Old Testament, 91–92 n. 31), Yahweh does not address Messiah; but inasmuch as the messenger prepares the way for Yahweh (Mal 4:5–6), with whom Jesus is constantly identified in the NT (see

; esp.

), this periphrastic rendering makes Jesus’ identity unambiguous (cf. France, Jesus and the Old Testament, 155). Even if Malachi 3:1 had been exactly quoted, the flow of the argument in Matthew demands that if John the Baptist is the prophesied Elijah who prepares the way for Yahweh (3:3; cf. Lk 1:76) or for the Day of Yahweh (Mal 4:5–6), and John the Baptist is Jesus’ forerunner, then Jesus himself is the manifestation of Yahweh and brings in the eschatological Day of Yahweh (see Andrew S. Malone, “Is the Messiah Announced in Malachi 3:1?” TynBul 57 [2006]: 215–28).

Hill comments, “It is probable that the quotation has been inserted by the evangelist; it breaks the logical connection between verses 9 and 11, and anticipates the mysterious announcement in verse 14.” It seems difficult to have it both ways. If the quotation anticipates v.14, then it must be left in place unless v.14 is also judged inauthentic. More important, v.10, far from breaking them up, ties v.9 and v.11 together. By citing Malachi, Jesus (v.10) has shown in what way John the Baptist is greater than a prophet: he is greater in that he alone of all the prophets was the forerunner who prepared the way for Yahweh-Jesus and personally pointed him out. While the OT prophets doubtless contributed to the corpus of revelation that pointed to Messiah, they did not serve as immediate forerunners. This is what makes John greater than a prophet (v.9)—indeed the greatest born of women (v.11; i.e., the greatest human being; cf. Job 14:1).

Thus far the argument flows coherently. But who is the “least in the kingdom of heaven,” and how is he greater than John the Baptist? Many have found this comparison so difficult that some fanciful suggestions have been made. McNeile holds the kingdom to be entirely future: the least in the kingdom will then be greater than John now is. But will not John also be in the kingdom then? And how will this contribute to the argument? Others argue that ho mikroteros means not “the least” but “the younger,” the “lesser” in a purely temporal sense. In this view it refers to Jesus: Jesus, though lesser through being younger, is greater than John the Baptist (so Chrysostom; Augustine; cf. BDF para. 61 [2]; O. Cullmann, “῾Ο ὀπίσω μου ἐρχόμενος,” ConBNT 11 [1947]: 30; Zerwick, Biblical Greek, para. 149; Benedict T. Viviano, Matthew and His World: The Gospel of the Open Jewish Christians: Studies in Biblical Theology [NTOA 61. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2007], 81–94). This implies that John the Baptist is himself, according to Matthew, in the kingdom—a conclusion widely defended, largely on the grounds of comparing the ministries of John and Jesus (e.g., 3:2; 4:17; so, e.g., Walter Wink, John the Baptist in the Gospel Tradition [Cambridge: Cambridge Univ. Press, 1968], 33–35).

It must be admitted, however, that ho mikroteros is made to mean “the younger” chiefly because v.11 is so difficult. In view of the fact that a comparison establishing John as greater than the prophets immediately precedes this text, it is most natural to take ho mikroteros as meaning “the least” in the kingdom. This entails the view that John the Baptist was not himself in the kingdom. Parallels between John’s and Jesus’ preaching are readily explained (see

), and v.12 can best be taken that way as well (see comments below).

In what way, then, is the least in the kingdom greater than John the Baptist? The answer must not be in terms of mere privilege—namely, the least are greater because they live to see the kingdom actually inaugurated—but in terms of the greatness already established for John. He was the greatest of the prophets because he pointed most unambiguously to Jesus. Nevertheless, even the least in the kingdom is greater yet because, living after the crucial revelatory and eschatological events have occurred, he or she points to Jesus still more unambiguously than John the Baptist. “The issue here is not John’s personal salvation, but his place in the scheme of salvation history. For all his crucial role as herald of the kingdom of heaven, John (together with all the prophets and godly people of the OT) belongs essentially to the old era, not the new” (France [NICNT]). This interpretation entirely suits the context and accomplishes three things.

1. It continues a defense of John by showing that his question (v.3), which springs neither from fickleness nor weakness (vv.7–8), does not make him forfeit his primacy among the prophets because of his being the forerunner of Jesus (vv.9–10), but that the question owes its origin to his still-veiled place in the redemptive history now unfolding.

2. By contrast it continues the theme of discipleship, whose essential function is to acknowledge Jesus before people (10:32–33), and it establishes that function as the disciples’ essential greatness. Even the least in the kingdom points to Jesus Christ more clearly than all his predecessors, not excluding John. For they either live through the tumultuous events of the ministry, passion, and beyond, after which things are much clearer; or they enter the kingdom after these events, with the same clear understanding. Thus the ground is being laid for the Great Commission. Clear witness to Christ before men is not only a requirement of the kingdom (10:32–33) and a command of the resurrected Lord (28:18–20) but the true greatness of the disciple (v.11).

3. At the same time, by explaining John’s greatness and his place in salvation history, this verse points back to the preeminence of Jesus himself.

12 This enigmatic saying has called forth a host of interpretations. These depend on several alternatives related to several exegetical turning points that can be combined variously. A complete list of the possibilities (for bibliography, see Chilton, God in Strength, 203ff.) must be passed over in favor of an interpretation that does justice both to the context and to the language. The turning points are three.

1. “From the days of John the Baptist until now.” As already pointed out (vv.10–11), most commentators understand “until” in v.13 to be an exclusive usage, putting John within the kingdom (though most scholars hold that Lk 16:16 is an inclusive usage of “until”). Indeed, John P. Meier (“John the Baptist in Matthew’s Gospel,” JBL 99 [1980]: 383–405) makes it the crux of his interpretation of Matthew’s treatment of the Baptist. The phrase “from the days of John the Baptist” is almost certainly a Semitic way of saying “from the time of the activity of John the Baptist” (cf. Jeremias, New Testament Theology, 46–47). John’s ministry provides the terminus a quo, the phrase “until now” the terminus ad quem. But many argue that “until now” means “up until” Matthew’s time of writing, not “up until” Jesus’ time of speaking (e.g., Cope, Matthew, 75–76; Albright and Mann). This interpretation is rendered plausible (Albright and Mann) because the rest of the verse seems to picture violent men ransacking the kingdom (see comments below); and this certainly did not happen in the short time between the Baptist’s death and this saying by Jesus during his earthly ministry.

A better synthesis emerges by taking the text strictly. The idiom “from ... ” in Matthew includes the following term (cf. 1:17; 2:16; 23:35; 27:45). But the entire expression “from the days of John the Baptist” does not say that John inaugurates the kingdom but only that during his time of ministry it was inaugurated and (or) attacked. The expression does not even assume John’s death; it assumes only that the crucial period of his ministry during which the kingdom was inaugurated lies in the past. Now this kingdom has begun, in however preliminary a way, with Jesus’ preaching and powerful works during “the days of John the Baptist.” Thus there is no reason why the Prophets and the Law should not prophesy “until John” in an inclusive sense (v.13)—an interpretation that not only agrees with Luke 16:16 but goes best with vv.9–11.

Whether the kingdom has been “forcefully advancing” (NIV) or attacked (see comments below), this has been going on from its inception under Jesus’ ministry during the days of John the Baptist (there had to be temporal overlap if the forerunner was to prepare his way and point him out) “until now”—namely, until this point in Jesus’ ministry. This does not mean that the activity (whether of forceful advance or of being attacked) stops at that point, any more than the same expression in John 2:10 (the only other place it occurs in the NT) means that everybody at the wedding instantly stopped drinking the best wine. The continuation is not the focus of interest.

2. “The kingdom of heaven has been forcefully advancing.” The crux of the problem is the verb biazetai (“has been forcefully advancing,” GK 1041). The form is either middle or passive. If the former, the NIV rendering, or something like it, is right; if the latter, it means that the kingdom is being attacked (in a negative sense) or is being forcefully advanced (by God?) (cf. TDNT, 1:610–11). In Greek sources relevant to the NT, biazetai is considerably more common in the deponent middle than in the active or passive voices (in the NT the verb is found only here and in Lk 16:16), and this supports the NIV rendering of the clause (cf. BDAG, 175; NIDNTT, 3:711–12) as Ridderbos, NEB (text note), Hendriksen, Chilton, and others do. But many object to this rendering on one of two grounds: (1) it brings a notion of “force” to the kingdom contrary to the gospels’ emphases, and (2) it deals poorly with the last clause of the text, since biastēs really must not be rendered “forceful man” (in a positive sense) but “violent man” (see comments below). The first objection is insubstantial. The kingdom has come with holy power and magnificent energy that has been pushing back the frontiers of darkness. This is especially manifest in Jesus’ miracles and ties in with Jesus’ response to the Baptist (Mt 11:5). Some kind of compulsion even of people is presupposed elsewhere (Lk 14:23). Moreover, the force implied by the middle deponent verb is not always violent or cruel (cf. BDAG). The second objection is important and brings us to the third part of the verse.

3. “And forceful men lay hold of it.” Hendriksen, for instance, thinks the cognate noun biastēs (“forceful man”) finds its meaning now established by the considerations discussed above for the meaning of the verb biazetai (“has been forcefully advancing”). The kingdom is making great strides; now is the time for courageous souls, forceful people, to take hold of it. This is no challenge for the timorous or fainthearted. This interpretation is possible but not convincing. The noun biastēs is rare in Greek literature (only here in the NT), but where it occurs it always has the negative connotations of violence and rapacity. Moreover, the verb harpazō (“lay hold of,” GK 773), a fairly common verb, almost always has the same evil connotations (a rare exception is Ac 8:39). For these reasons most commentators see a reference to violent men and then read the verb in the preceding clause as a passive: “the kingdom of heaven is suffering violence and violent men are seizing it”—so, more or less, KJV; NASB; Weymouth; NEB; Hill; Maier; E. Moore (“Βιάζω, ἁρπάζω and Cognates in Josephus,” NTS 21 [1975]: 519–43); and many others. There are many conflicting views about who the violent men are—Zealots, Pharisees, evil spirits and their human hosts, Herod Antipas, Jewish antagonists in general. But the thrust is the same in any case.

Not satisfied with this, others have made suggestions, none convincing. The kingdom of heaven “has been taken by storm and eager men are forcing their way into it” (offered by J. B. Phillips [New Testament in Modern English] and C. B. Williams [New Testament in the Language of the People] and defended by Keener) is a rendering that combines the unlikelihood of a passive verb with the unlikelihood of a positive-connotative noun. James Swetnam (Bib 61 [1980]: 440–42) wants the verse to mean that from the time of John the kingdom has been suffering violence (passive verb) of interpretation; and those who are of like-minded violence—i.e., who understand the kingdom in the same way—are the ones who snatch it away. To the weaknesses of the last suggestion, this one adds an unparalleled meaning (“to suffer violence of interpretation”) to the verb.

The best solution is to take the verb in its most likely voice, middle deponent, and the noun and verb of the last clause with their normal evil connotations: namely, from the time of John the Baptist (as explained above) until now, the kingdom of heaven has been forcefully advancing; and violent or rapacious men have been trying (conative present) to plunder it—so Pamment (“Kingdom of Heaven,” 227–28), though she then makes the rendering nearly incoherent by saying the kingdom of heaven is exclusively future (see

). Furthermore, the verbs in the last two clauses are both in the present tense. If they are rendered as presents in English, the syntax is wrong: “From the time of John until now the kingdom is forcefully advancing, and violent men are pillaging it.” But that acceptable Greek syntax calls in question Pamment’s views on the futurity of the kingdom of heaven and sets up the picture of a tremendous, violent struggle being waged even as Jesus speaks. Certainly “Jesus considers his ministry to be a time when the Kingdom can be attacked as being present” (Hill; cf. Kümmel, Promise and Fulfillment, 121ff.).

If this is a form of antanaclasis (a figure of speech in which the same word is repeated in a different or even contradictory sense), based in this instance not on exactly the same word but on a cognate, the verse admirably suits the context. The argument up to v.11 has established John the Baptist’s greatness, grounded in his ministry of preparing for and pointing out Christ; it has anticipated the witness of those in the kingdom who are even greater than John because the least of them testifies to Christ yet more clearly. Now, Jesus goes on to say, from the days of the Baptist—i.e., from the beginning of Jesus’ ministry—the kingdom has been forcefully advancing (the point also made in Lk 16:16). But it has not swept all opposition away, as John expected (see

Simultaneous with the kingdom’s advance have been the attacks of violent men on it. That is the very point John could not grasp. Now Jesus expressly affirms it. The statement is general because it does not refer to just one kind of opposition. It includes Herod’s imprisonment of John (cf. Robinson, Twelve New Testament Studies, 44–45), the attacks by Jewish leaders now intensifying (9:34; 12:22–24), the materialism that craved a political Messiah and the prosperity he would bring but not his righteousness (11:20–24). Already Jesus has warned his disciples of persecution and suffering (10:16–42); the opposition was rising and would get worse. Meanwhile, not the aggressive zealots will find rest for their souls, but the weary, the burdened, the children to whom the Father has revealed the truth (11:25–30). The last-mentioned passage is the death knell of those who think the biastai are “forceful men” (in a positive sense); it is exactly what the chapter, taken as a whole, rules out. Instead, we are hearing the sound of divine grace, a note that becomes a symphony later in this gospel.

If this interpretation is sound, there seems little reason either for thinking that v.12 is out of place or for seeing in it the later creation of the church.

13 In view of the preceding, “until John” means up to and including John (cf. D. A. Carson, “Do the Prophets and the Law Quit Prophesying Before John? A Note on Matthew 11:13,” in The Gospels and the Scriptures of Israel [ed. Craig A. Evans and W. Richard Stegner; JSNTSup 104; Sheffield: Sheffield Univ. Press, 1994], 179–94). The Baptist belongs to the last stage of the divine economy before the inauguration of the kingdom (as in Lk 16:16). Sigal (Halakhah of Jesus, 68–69) mishandles this verse because he treats it as if the Prophets and the Law must prophesy about John rather than until John. Some of what the OT says about John has been set out in v.10. Here the point is to set out the redemptive-historical turning point that has brought about the transformation of perspectives explained in vv.11–12. The two anomalies in the verse are (1) “the Prophets” precedes “the Law,” an unusual order (cf. 5:17; 7:12), and (2) both “Prophets” and “Law” prophesy. Both anomalies serve the same purpose—a powerful way of saying that the entire OT has a prophetic function, a function it maintained up until, and including, John the Baptist.

In the twin settings of Matthew’s “fulfillment” theme (see

;

) and the role of John the Baptist (11:10), it is understood that now, after John the Baptist, that which Prophets and Law prophesied has come to pass—the kingdom has dawned and Messiah has come. This establishes the primary function of the OT in Matthew’s gospel: it points to Jesus and the kingdom. This confirms our interpretation of 5:17–20. The gar (“for”) thus ties 11:13 not to v.11 but to v.12 (confirming v.12 as an integral part of the argument). Verse 13 further explains that “from the days of John the Baptist”—i.e., from the beginning of Jesus’ ministry—the kingdom has been forcefully advancing. The Prophets and the Law prophesied until then and, implicitly, prophesied of this new era. And from that time on, the fulfillment of the prophecy, the kingdom itself, has been forcefully advancing.

14–15 The argument returns to vv.9–10, stating explicitly what Jesus said there: John the Baptist was the prophesied “Elijah.” This locates his place and function in the history of redemption and affirms again that what Jesus was doing was eschatological—he was bringing in the Day of Yahweh. The clause “if you are willing to accept it” does not cast doubt on the truth of the identification; but, like v.15, it acknowledges how difficult it was to grasp it, especially before the cross and the resurrection. For if the people had truly understood, they would necessarily have seen Jesus’ place in salvation history as the fulfillment of OT hopes and prophecy. That is why the sonorous formula of v.15 is added (cf. 13:9, 43; 24:15; Rev 2:7, 11 et al.): the identification of John with prophesied Elijah has messianic implications that “those with ears” would hear. The formula is both a metaphorical description of and a challenge to spiritual sensitivity to the claims of the gospel.

NOTES

8 Here and in v.9, ἀλλά (alla, “but”) is used after a rhetorical question, with the answer implied but suppressed. In other words, the Greek conjunction here adopts the force of Aramaic (ʾelā ʾ, “if not”). But this meaning of ἀλλά, alla, is also a feature of classical Greek; and the NIV, following McNeile, translates it “if not.”

9 The meaning of τί (ti) affects punctuation: If “what,” read τί ἐξήλθατε ἰδεῖν; προφήτην; (ti exēlthate idein; prophētēn;) as “What did you go out to see? A prophet?” If “why,” read “Why did you go out to see a prophet?” The problem is compounded by an important variant that reverses the last two Greek words and makes impossible the former punctuation. But the textual evidence is strongest for the order given in the first reading above, and the parallel use of τί, ti, in vv.7–8 likewise favors “what.” It is doubtful whether Gospel of Thomas 78, which prefers “why,” is authentic.

12 Obviously related to the interpretation of this verse is the interpretation of the parallel in Luke 16:16. The clause “the good news of the kingdom of God is being preached” is an acceptable parallel to Matthew’s “the kingdom of heaven has been forcefully advancing” and eliminates the perplexing verb βιάζεται (biazetai, “is forcefully advancing”). The problem lies in the last clause of Luke 16:16: καὶ πᾶς εἰς αὐτὴν βιάζεται (kai pas eis autēn biazetai), which might mean (1) “and everyone is forced into it” or, (2) more plausibly, “and everyone is forcing his way into it” (NIV). The latter might be taken in a positive sense, in which case it is not parallel to v.12 as we have interpreted it (see comments above); or in a negative sense dealing with opponents manifesting hostile intent, in which case the clause is parallel to v.12 as we have interpreted it, but the verb is being used in a different sense than in Matthew, where the negative part of the verse depends only on the cognate noun, not the verb. The question remains a difficult one (see discussion in Marshall, Gospel of Luke, 626–30).

14 It is difficult to know why, according to John 1:21, the Baptist should deny that he was Elijah. Modern scholarship for the most part assumes independent and mutually contradictory traditions about the Baptist that reached the separate evangelists, who passed them on without recognizing the problem. But other suggestions include (1) John denied he was Elijah because his questioners expected a literal fulfillment—if he had answered in the affirmative, they would therefore have heard an untruth—and (2) John the Baptist saw himself as the voice of one crying in the wilderness (cf. Jn 1:23) but did not himself recognize that he was also fulfilling the Malachi prophecy. The second alternative may have support from vv.7–15; for according to it, John’s knowledge did not extend to the nuanced dimensions of Christian “already/not yet” eschatology, and he may well have been in the dark on other points.

16“To what can I compare this generation? They are like children sitting in the marketplaces and calling out to others:

17“‘We played the flute for you,

and you did not dance;

we sang a dirge,

and you did not mourn.’

18For John came neither eating nor drinking, and they say, ‘He has a demon.’ 19The Son of Man came eating and drinking, and they say, ‘Here is a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and “sinners.”’ But wisdom is proved right by her actions.”

COMMENTARY

16–17 See the close parallel in Luke 7:31–35. “Comparison” stands at the heart of Jesus’ parables (see

). Here Jesus uses an analogy to show his view of “this generation” (v.16), a designation recurring in 12:41–42, 45; 23:36; 24:34 (cf. 12:39; 16:4; 17:17) and used of Jesus’ generation in connection with their general rejection of himself as Messiah. This identification of “this generation” is confirmed here by the next pericope (vv.20–24). Rudolf Stier (Words of the Lord Jesus, 2:98) comments, “It cannot but be noted that the Lord, nihil humani a se alienum putans [judging nothing human to be without interest to himself], as he took notice of the rending of mended garments (Mt 9:16), and the domestic concerns of the children in their beds (Lk 11:7), so also observes the children’s play in the marketplace, and finds in everything the material for the analogies of his wise teaching.”

There are either two kinds of games (v.17), a wedding game and a funeral game, or, less likely, two cries within one game, but the children cannot be satisfied with either. Because men traditionally danced at weddings and women traditionally mourned at funerals, Jeremias (Parables of Jesus, 160–62) suggests the two groups of children are boys and girls mutually criticizing each other. Curiously, both Gundry and Davies and Allison follow this line, but see the boys and girls in opposite roles. In reality, the text makes nothing of gender distinctions in the children’s play (rightly noted by France [NICNT]).

18–19 “For” shows that Jesus now gives the reason the behavior of “this generation” suggests the comparison he has drawn. John the Baptist lived ascetically, “neither eating nor drinking,” i.e., neither indulging in dinner parties (cf. 3:4) nor drinking alcohol (cf. Lk 1:15). Although he drew crowds (vv.7–8) and many were willing to enjoy his light for a time (Jn 5:35), the people as a whole rejected him, even charging him with demon-possession. Jesus came eating and drinking (9:10–11; Lk 15:1–2; cf. Jn 2:1–11) and was charged with gluttony, drunkenness, and bad associations (v.19; cf. Pr 23:20). Like disgruntled children, “this generation” found it easier to whine their criticisms and voice their discontent than to “play the game.” Jesus says in effect, “But all you do is to give orders and criticize. For you the Baptist is a madman because he fasts, while you want to make merry; me you reproach because I eat with publicans, while you insist on strict separation from sinners. You hate the preaching of repentance, and you hate the proclamation of the gospel. So you play your childish game with God’s messengers while Rome burns!” (Jeremias, Parables of Jesus, 161–62).

But the criticism runs at a still deeper level. If they had understood John, they would have understood Jesus, and vice versa; the thought has links with vv.7–15 (Bonnard).

Here Jesus uses Son of Man not only as a self-reference but as a veiled messianic allusion (see

). For tax collectors and sinners, see

The closing proverb has provoked much debate because Luke has “all her children” and Matthew “her actions.” This proved so difficult that copyists in many MSS assimilated Matthew to Luke, where the text is relatively firm (cf. Metzger, Textual Criticism, 30; O. Linton, “The Parable of the Children’s Game,” NTS 22 [1975–76]: 165–71). But the problem cannot be so easily evaded. Aramaic reconstructions are not convincing.

Luke’s form is probably original. It is commonly interpreted to mean that the claims of wisdom are proved true by all her children—all who accept the message of wisdom’s envoys, John and Jesus (cf. Lk 7:29–30; some do accept it: see Marshall, Gospel of Luke, 303–4). Why the change to “actions” in Matthew? Suggs (Wisdom, Christology, and Law, 36–58) argues that the proverb should not be read as the conclusion to the immediately preceding parable but to vv.2–18 and notes the use of erga (“actions,” GK 2240) in v.2 (NIV, “what Christ was doing”). On this basis he argues that the proverb in Matthew reflects Son of Man “wisdom” Christology. Wisdom is proved right by her actions, and those actions are the actions of Christ (vv.2–5). Jesus is therefore wisdom incarnate (similarly, but more cautiously, David R. Catchpole, “Tradition History,” in New Testament Interpretation [ed. Marshall], 167–71; Dunn, Christology, 197–98; and many others).

Certainly wisdom, already personified in the OT (e.g., Job 28; Pr 1; 8) and developed in Jewish tradition into a quasipersonal hypostasis in heaven, an agent who (or which) expresses the mind of God (cf. TDNT, 7:469–526; Felix Christ, Jesus Sophia [Zurich: Zwingli, 1970], 13–60, 156–63), sometimes serves in the NT as a vehicle for Christology. Yet here wisdom is best understood in its more traditional association with God. God’s wisdom is vindicated by her (wisdom’s) actions. The Wisdom-Christology theory must be rejected here. The theme of Matthew 11 is not Christology but the place of John the Baptist (and therefore of Jesus) in salvation history. The addition of such a Christology in v.19b adds little to the argument, and Suggs’s detailed reasons for defending this view entail reconstructions of church history fundamentally questionable on other grounds.

The proverb should be read in the light of the preceding parable: God’s wisdom has been vindicated (edikaiōthe, GK 1467; NIV, “is proved right”—but the aorist, contra Jeremias [Parables of Jesus, 162 n. 42] and Turner [Syntax, 73], should not be taken as gnomic in this highly specific context) by her actions—i.e., by the lifestyles of both John and Jesus, referred to in the previous verses. Wisdom in the OT is much concerned with right living. John and Jesus have both been criticized and rejected for the way they live. But wisdom, preeminently concerned about right living, has been vindicated by her actions: their respective lifestyles are both acknowledged as hers (for questions of authenticity, see TDNT, 8:431–32).

A similar approach best interprets Luke. The phrase “all her children” does not refer to all those who accept John and Jesus as wisdom’s envoys: vv.29–30 do not picture the masses accepting them but, unlike the Pharisees and other leaders, merely hearing them gladly. The parable follows in which this generation is denounced for not truly understanding and participating. Wisdom’s “children” are therefore John and Jesus, not the crowds. “All her children” does not militate against this, because the form is proverbial and meant to include all God’s messengers, even those so radically different as John and Jesus. The two forms of the saying are therefore not very far apart. Luke focuses on the lifestyles of John and Jesus as wisdom’s children, thus concentrating on their persons, Matthew on their actions.

Not only is this interpretation coherent and contextually suitable, but it wraps up the preceding section in which Jesus has been exonerating the Baptist by explaining his role in redemptive history and simultaneously castigating the people for their spiritual dullness. See D. A. Carson, “Matthew 11:19 / Luke 7:35: A Test Case for the Bearing of Q Christology on the Synoptic Problem,” in Jesus of Nazareth: Lord and Christ (ed. Joel B. Green and Max Turner; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1994), 128–46.

NOTES

16 KJV’s “friends” is explained by minor textual support for ἑταίροις (hetairois, “friends”) instead of ἑτέροις (heterois, “others”).

19 Several have argued (including Linton [“Parable of the Children’s Game,” 177–78]) that the preposition ἀπό (apo; NIV, “by”) could be rendered “over against,” reflecting (min q^oddām). In that case, “children” is required: i.e., wisdom is proved right over against her children—the Pharisees and others who think they are right. But it is doubtful whether Greek readers would naturally think of ἀπό, apo, in this way, and such a meaning is nonsensical in Matthew.

OVERVIEW

See Luke 10:12–15, in the context of the commission to the seventy-two. The structure of the two passages is not close, the language moderately so. There is no particular reason to think that Matthew 11:20–24 is the original: “then” is a loose expression in this gospel (see

), and “began” (see

) is not much tighter. Luke’s context is not clearly original; the second person in 10:13–15 may argue against it (but see

). But there is no way to rule out the possibility Jesus uttered these “woes” repeatedly as warnings.

The denunciation in the last pericope (vv.16–19) now becomes sharper. Structurally there are two series of warnings, each with the same sequence of warning (vv.21a, 23a), explanation (vv.21b, 23b), and comparison (vv.22, 24) (cf. Joseph A. Comber, “The Composition and Literary Characteristics of Matthew 11:20–24,” CBQ 39 [1977]: 497–504).

20Then Jesus began to denounce the cities in which most of his miracles had been performed, because they did not repent. 21“Woe to you, Korazin! Woe to you, Bethsaida! If the miracles that were performed in you had been performed in Tyre and Sidon, they would have repented long ago in sackcloth and ashes. 22But I tell you, it will be more bearable for Tyre and Sidon on the day of judgment than for you. 23And you, Capernaum, will you be lifted up to the skies? No, you will go down to the depths. If the miracles that were performed in you had been performed in Sodom, it would have remained to this day. 24But I tell you that it will be more bearable for Sodom on the day of judgment than for you.”

COMMENTARY

20 The verb oneidizein (“denounce,” GK 3943), used only here and in 5:11; 27:44 in Matthew, is a strong verb, conveying indignation along with either insults (as in 5:11) or justifiable reproach (as here; cf. BDAG, 710). The expression hai pleistai dynameis autou (lit., “his very many miracles,” elative superlative; cf. Turner, Grammatical Insights, 34) is rightly rendered “most of his miracles.” Jesus did not denounce these cities for vicious opposition but because, despite the fact that most of his miracles took place there—miracles that attested his messianic mission (vv.5–6)—they had not repented (see

;

). The many miracles again remind us of the extent of Jesus’ ministry (cf. 4:23; 8:16; 9:35; Jn 20:30; 21:25) and of the depth of responsibility imposed on those with more light. “Every hearer of the New Testament is either much happier (v.11), or much more wretched than them of old time” (Bengel, Gnomon, 169)—those who lived before Christ.

21–22 Ouai (GK 4026) can mean doom or solemn warning (“woe”) or pity (“alas”); both are mingled here. Warnings have been given before; now woes are pronounced. Korazin is mentioned in the NT only here and in Luke 10:13. Its ruins may probably be identified with Kirbet Keraze, about two miles northwest of Capernaum. The Bethsaida in question was probably the home of Andrew, Peter, and Philip (Jn 1:44; 12:21) on the west side of Galilee, not Bethsaida Julias on the northeast shores near the Jordan inlet. Tyre and Sidon were large Phoenician cities on the Mediterranean, not far away and often denounced by OT prophets for their Baal worship (Isa 23; Eze 26–28; Joel 3:4; Am 1:9–10; Zec 9:2–4). “Sackcloth” is a rough fabric made from the short hairs of camels and usually worn next to the skin to express grief or sorrow (2Sa 3:31; 1Ki 21:27; 2Ki 6:30; Joel 1:8; Jnh 3:5–8). Ashes were added in cases of deep emotion (cf. Job 42:6; Da 9:3), whether one put them on the head (2Sa 13:19; La 2:10), sat in them (Jnh 3:6), lay on them (Est 4:3), or even rolled in them (Jer 6:26; Mic 1:10). For “But I tell you” (v.22)—properly “Indeed I tell you” (here and in v.24)—see .

Three large theological propositions are presupposed by Jesus’ insistence that on the day of judgment (see

; cf. 12:36; Ac 17:31; 2Pe 2:9; 3:7; 1Jn 4:17; Jude 6), when he will judge (7:22; 25:34), things will go worse for the cities that have received so much light than for the pagan cities. The first is that the Judge has contingent knowledge: he knows what Tyre and Sidon would have done under such-and-such circumstances. The second is that God does not owe revelation to anyone, or else there is injustice in withholding it. The third is that punishment on the day of judgment takes into account opportunity. There are degrees of felicity in paradise and degrees of torment in hell (12:41; 23:13; cf. Lk 12:47–48), a point Paul well understood (Ro 1:20–2:16). The implications for Western, English-speaking Christendom today are sobering.

23–24 For Capernaum, see

. The city was not only Jesus’ base (4:13), but he performed many specific miracles there (8:5–17; 9:2–8, 18–33; Mk 1:23–28; Jn 4:46–54). For the difficult textual variants, see Metzger (Textual Commentary, 30–31) and France (Jesus and the Old Testament, 243): the question, kept in the NIV (v.23), is probably right. Whether “go down” (conforming to Lk 10:15) or “will be brought down” (conforming to Isa 14:15) is correct, the thrust is clear; and the allusion to Isaiah 14:15 is unmistakable. The favored city of Capernaum, like self-exalting Babylon, will be brought down to Hades (see

). The OT passage is a taunt against the wicked and arrogant city, personified in its king; and Capernaum is lumped together with Babylon, which all Jews regarded as the epitome of evil (cf. Rev 17:5). The heaven-hades contrast can be metaphorical for exaltation-humiliation or the like (cf. Job 11:8; Ps 139:8; Am 9:2; Ro 10:6–7). But in view of the surrounding references to “day of judgment,” Hades must be given more sinister overtones. Similarly, though Sodom (Ge 19) was proverbial for wickedness (cf. Eze 16:44–52), it will be easier on the day of judgment for “the land of Sodom” (so Gk., recalling that several cities were involved in the sin and the destruction) than for Capernaum (see

The “you” in “I tell you” (v.22) is plural, probably implying the crowd (v.7), since the singular “you” is used for the city (vv.23–24, Gk.). This means that using the second person to address the cities is no more than a rhetorical device of Jesus’ preaching.

OVERVIEW

If vv.20–24 describe the condemned, vv.25–30 describe the accepted. Verses 25–30 can be broken into three parts: vv.25–26, 27, 28–30. The first two are paralleled by Luke 10:21–22. The unity of the three parts and the authenticity of each have been hotly debated. Contrary to earlier opinion (esp. E. Norden, Agnostos Theos [Stuttgart: Teubner, 1913]), the language is not that of Hellenistic mysticism (Norden proposed Sir 51 as the closest parallel) but is thoroughly Semitic (cf. Davies, Christian Origins, 119–44; Manson, Sayings of Jesus, 79; Jeremias, New Testament Theology, 24, 57–58), which means that the provenance is Palestinian. See Celia Deutsch, Hidden Wisdom and the Easy Yoke: Wisdom, Torah, and Discipleship in Matthew (JSNTSup 18; Sheffield, JSOT Press, 1987), 107–11, for detailed discussion of the Jewish conceptual background of vv.25–27. Further aspects of the authenticity question are discussed below (see A. M. Hunter, Gospel and Apostle [London: SCM Press, 1975], 60–67).

Jesus’ prayer builds on his rejection (vv.16–24) while still recognizing his mission (cf. 10:5–42).

25At that time Jesus said, “I praise you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because you have hidden these things from the wise and learned, and revealed them to little children. 26Yes, Father, for this was your good pleasure.”

COMMENTARY

25 The Greek en ekeinō tō kairō (“at that time”) is a loose connective in Matthew (cf. 12:1; 14:1), loosely historical (it was about that time) and tightly thematic (this pericope must be read in terms of the preceding denunciation). Luke 10:21 has Jesus saying these words “at that hour” (en autē tē hōra; NIV, “at that time”) when the seventy-two joyfully returned from their mission, an event Matthew does not record. Luke’s connective relates to the success of the mission; Matthew’s assumes that there has been some success (God has revealed these things to little children) but draws a sharper antithesis between the recipients of such revelation and the “wise and learned,” who, like the inhabitants of the cities just denounced, understand nothing.

While exomologoumai soi (“I praise you”) can be used in the sense of “I confess my sins” (cf. 3:6), the basic meaning is acknowledgment. Sins truly acknowledged are sins confessed. When this verb is used with respect to God, the person praying “acknowledges” who God is, the propriety of his ways, and the excellence of his character. At that point, acknowledgment is scarcely distinguishable from praise (as in Ro 14:11; 15:9; Php 2:11; cf. LXX of Ps 6:6; 7:18; 17:50 et al.).

Here Jesus addresses God as “Father” and “Lord of heaven and earth” (cf. Sir 51:10; Tob 7:16). These are particularly appropriate titles, because the former indicates Jesus’ sense of sonship (see

) and prepares for v.27, while the latter recognizes God’s sovereignty over the universe and prepares for vv.25–26. God is sovereign, free to conceal or reveal as he wills. God has revealed “these things”—the significance of Jesus’ miracles (cf. vv.20–24), the messianic age unfolding largely unnoticed, the content of Jesus’ teaching—to nēpiois (“little children,” “childlike disciples,” “simple ones,” GK 3758; see Jeremias, New Testament Theology, 111;

; cf. Jn 7:48–49; 1Co 1:26–29; 3:18); and he has hidden them from the “wise and learned.”

Many restrict the “wise and learned” to the Pharisees and teachers of the law, but the context implies something broader. Jesus has just finished pronouncing woes on “this generation” (v.16) and denouncing entire cities (vv.20–24). These are “the wise and learned” (better, “the wise and understanding”) from whom the real significance of Jesus’ ministry is concealed. The point of interest is not their education, any more than the point of interest in the “little children” is their age or size. The contrast is between those who are self-sufficient and deem themselves wise and those who are dependent and love to be taught.

For revealing the riches of the good news of the kingdom to the one and hiding it from the other, Jesus uttered his praise to his Father. Zerwick (Biblical Greek, para. 452) argues that though the construction formally puts God’s concealing and his revealing on the same level, in reality it masks a Semitic construction. See Romans 6:17, which reads literally, “But thanks be to God that you were servants of sin, but you obeyed from the heart the form of teaching with which you were entrusted.” But this example does not greatly help here; for even when the construction is rendered concessively (“I praise you ... because, though you have hidden these things from the wise and learned, you have revealed them to little children”), God remains the one who reveals and conceals.

Yet we must not think that God’s concealing and revealing are symmetrical activities arbitrarily exercised toward neutral human beings who are both innocent and helpless in the face of the divine decree. God is dealing with a race of sinners (cf. 1:21; 7:11) whom he owes nothing. Thus to conceal “these things” is not an act of injustice but of judgment—the very judgment John the Baptist was looking for and failed to find in Jesus (see

). The astonishing thing about God’s activity is not that God acts in both mercy and judgment but who the recipients of that mercy and judgment are: those who pride themselves in understanding divine things are judged; those who understand nothing are taught. The predestination pattern is the counterpoint of grace.

26 Far from bemoaning or finding fault with his Father’s revealing and concealing, Jesus delighted in it. The conjunction hoti is best understood as “because” or “for” (NIV): I thank you because this was your good pleasure; and that is what Jesus “acknowledges” or “praises.” Whatever pleases his Father pleases him. “It is often in a person’s prayers that his truest thoughts about himself come to the surface. For this reason, the thanksgiving of Jesus here recorded is one of the most precious pieces of spiritual autobiography found in the Synoptic Gospels” (Tasker, 121). Jesus’ balance mirrored the balance of Scripture: he could simultaneously denounce the cities that did not repent and praise the God who does not reveal, for God’s sovereignty in election is not mitigated by man’s stubbornness and sin, while man’s responsibility is in no way diminished by God’s “good pleasure” that sovereignly reveals and conceals (cf. Carson, Divine Sovereignty, 205ff.).

NOTES

25 The Greek has ἀποκριθεὶς ὁ ᾽Ιησοῦς εἶπεν (apokritheis ho Iēsous eipen, “Jesus answered and said”), not just ὁ ᾽Ιησοῦς εἶπεν (ho Iēsous eipen, NIV, “Jesus said”); similarly 12:38; 17:4; 26:63 (text note.); 28:5, where there is no “question” to “answer.” This simply reflects Hebrew idiom (Zerwick, Biblical Greek, para. 366).

27“All things have been committed to me by my Father. No one knows the Son except the Father, and no one knows the Father except the Son and those to whom the Son chooses to reveal him.”

COMMENTARY

27 Despite contrary opinions, the arguments for the authenticity of this saying are very strong. Long rejected because it was thought to reflect Johannine theology, which was judged to be the product of late Hellenization, this verse has by and large gained the recognition of scholarship that the “knowledge” categories here are Jewish and the structure of the verse Semitic (cf. Jeremias, Prayers of Jesus, 45ff.). Dunn (Christology, 199–200) has shown that the closest parallels are in the election language of the OT, a strong argument for the unity of vv.25–27.

Hill denies the authenticity of the saying but candidly admits, “The greatest barrier to the acceptance of the genuineness of the verse is the supposition that Jesus could not have made such an absolute claim for himself.” This turns in part on the observation that, apart from the fourth gospel, the absolute expression “the Son” is exceedingly rare. But significantly it does occur twice more in Matthew, at 24:36 (cf. Mk 13:32) and 28:19 (elsewhere, cf. 1Co 15:28; Heb 1:8). Jeremias (Prayers of Jesus, 50) argues that Jesus’ habit of addressing God as “Father” could well have contributed to such a self-understanding on the part of Jesus; but even he thinks v.27 should be understood generically: “Just as only a father really knows his son, so only a son really knows his father.” But even if he is right, in a context where (1) Jesus has just addressed God as “Father” (vv.25–26) and (2) makes himself a son in an exclusive sense (3) with the sole power to mediate knowledge of God, one must conclude that the “generic” statement Jeremias finds could be applied only to Jesus, and that in such a way as to make his sonship exclusive.

Past interpreters often said that “the Son” is never used in pre-Christian sources as a title for the Messiah. With the discovery of 4Q174 (Florilegium) 10–14, citing 2 Samuel 7:14 and applying to “the Branch” of David the words “I will be his Father and he shall be my Son,” this judgment must be reconsidered. Though it may not be a direct messianic title, it was certainly used to refer to an apocalyptic figure who was the son of a king, presumably David, and thus picks up OT uses of “Son” (see Ps 2;

;

;

; cf. Fitzmyer, Wandering Aramean, 102–7; M. Hengel, The Son of God: The Origin of Christology and the History of Jewish-Hellenistic Religion [London: SCM Press, 1976]; Guthrie, New Testament Theology, 301ff.). As with “Son of Man” (see

, p. 247), so with “Son of God”: it appears that Jesus used a designation not firmly defined and open to several interpretations as part of his gradual self-disclosure, a revelation that could be fully grasped only after the cross and the resurrection. Thus for Matthew there is no doubt of what Jesus is saying, because Matthew’s “Son” or “Son of God” categories must be seen against the backdrop, not only of the prologue, but also of 3:17.

The latter passage raises a still more basic point. Cannot Jesus himself be thought to originate some things? Was the church so rich in imagination and Jesus so imaginatively poor that all new developments in titles and theology must be ascribed only to the church? If 3:17 is historical, why should not Jesus think of himself as the Son in 11:27? Is it necessary to conclude, with Hill, that v.27 cannot be authentic because it sounds like the authority of the postresurrection Jesus in 28:18? And if the two do sound alike, why should we not therefore conclude that there is more continuity between the earthly ministry of Jesus and the resurrected Lord than most scholars are prepared to admit?

Verse 27 is a christological claim of prime importance, fitting easily into the context. After declaring that the Father gives true understanding of “these things” to “little children” (vv.25–26), Jesus now adds that he is the exclusive agent of that revelation. “All things” may have reference not to “all authority” (as in 28:18) but to “all divine knowledge,” all knowledge of “these things” (in v.25). But because the Son has not only knowledge but the authority to choose those to whom he will reveal God, probably “all things” includes authority. The reciprocal knowledge of Son and Father where the Father is God presupposes a special sonship indeed. And this unique mutual knowledge guarantees that the revelation the Son gives is true.

Not least astonishing about this reciprocity is the clause “No one knows the Son except the Father.” Even if it is rendered in Jeremias’s way (above), in this exclusivistic context it makes a claim no mere mortal could honestly make. There is a self-enclosed world of Father and Son that is opened to others only by the revelation provided by the Son. “It is one thing to know by equality of nature, and another by the condescension of him who reveals” (Jerome, cited in Broadus, 252). This revelation is not only factual (the Son reveals “these things”) but personal (the Son reveals “him”—the Father).

The Son reveals the Father to those whom he, from time to time, wills (present subjunctive; cf. Turner, Syntax, 107). Just as the Son praises the Father for revealing and concealing according to his good pleasure (v.26), so the Father has authorized the Son to reveal or not according to his will. The text places enormous emphasis on Jesus’ person and authority. The thought is closely echoed both in John (3:35; 8:19; 10:15; 14:9; 16:15) and in the Synoptics (Mt 13:11; Mk 4:11—Jesus makes known the secrets of the kingdom; cf. Mt 10:37–39; 11:25; Lk 10:23–24; ch. 15). What is made clear in this passage is that sonship and messiahship are not quite the same. “Sonship precedes messiahship and is in fact the ground for the messianic mission” (Ladd, Theology of the New Testament, 165–67, esp. 167).

OVERVIEW

These verses are only in Matthew. Jesus is the one who alone reveals the Father (v.27). Jesus it is who invites, not “the wise and learned” (v.25), but “the weary and burdened” (v.28). The Son reveals the Father, not to gratify learned curiosity or to reinforce the self-sufficiency of the arrogant, but to bring “the little children” (v.25) to know the Father (v.27), to introduce the weary to eschatological rest (v.28)—or, as the angel once said to Joseph, so that Jesus Messiah might save his people from their sins (1:21).

Partly because these verses have some links with Sirach 51:23–27, where wisdom invites men to her yoke, several have argued that Matthew here identifies Jesus with hypostasized wisdom (e.g., Zumstein, La condition du croyant, 140ff.; Dunn, Christology, 200–201). But the contrasts between Sirach 51 and this passage are more impressive than the similarities. In the former, Sirach is inviting men to take on the yoke of studying Torah as the means of gaining acceptance and rest; in the latter, Jesus offers eschatological rest, not to the scholar who studies Torah, but to the weary. Jesus’ teaching must be adopted, not Torah; and this stands, as the next pericopes show (12:1–8, 9–14), in welcome relief to a primarily legal understanding of the OT. Stanton (Jesus of Nazareth, 368–71) disputes that there is any link with Sirach. But whether or not he has gone too far in this conclusion, he is entirely right to point out that despite the common words “to me,” “toil,” “yoke,” “find,” “rest,” and “soul” in the two passages, the configuration of the two sets is entirely different. In Sirach, the writer, the Wise Man, receives Wisdom’s blessings and invites his readers to share in them. Here, however, Jesus is not the mediator of Wisdom’s blessings “but issues ‘Wisdom’s’ invitation in his own person. Wisdom’s yoke is now his yoke, and it is he who offers rest to those who toil” (France [NICNT]).

28“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. 29Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. 30For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”

COMMENTARY

28 The “me” is grammatically unemphatic but in the wake of v.27 extremely important. Jesus invites the “weary” (the participle suggests those who have become weary through heavy struggling or toil) and the “burdened” (the passive side of weariness, overloaded like beasts of burden) to come to him; and he (not the Father) will give them rest. There is an echo of Jeremiah 31:25, where Yahweh refreshes his people through the new covenant.

While there is no need to restrict the “burdens,” it is impossible not to be reminded of the “heavy loads” the Pharisees put on men’s shoulders (23:4; cf. 12:1–14; see M. Maher, “‘Take my yoke upon you’ [Matt. xi.29],” NTS 22 [1976]: 97–103). The “rest” (cf. use of cognate term in Heb 3–4) is eschatological (cf. Rev 6:11; 14:13) but also a present reality.

29–30 The “yoke” (zygos, GK 2433), put on animals for pulling heavy loads, is a metaphor for the discipline of discipleship. If Jesus is not offering the yoke of the law (Pirke Avot 3:6, cf. Sir 51:26), neither is he offering freedom from all constraints. The “yoke” is Jesus’ yoke, not the yoke of the law; discipleship must be to him. In view of v.27, “learn from me” cannot mean “imitate me” or “learn from my experience” (contra Stauffer, TDNT, 2:348–49) but “learn from the revelation that I alone impart” (cf. Josef Schmid, Das Evangelium nach Matthäus [Regensburg: Pustet, 1959]).

The marvelous feature of this invitation is that out of his overwhelming authority (v.27) Jesus encourages the burdened to come to him because he is “gentle and humble in heart.” Matthew stresses Jesus’ gentleness (18:1–10; 19:13–15). Apparently the theme is connected with the messianic servant language (Isa 42:2–3; 53:1–2; cf. Zec 9:9, cited in Mt 21:5) that recurs in 12:15–21. Authoritative revealer that he is, Jesus approaches us with a true servant’s gentleness. For the present, his messianic reign must not be understood as exclusively royal.

On “rest” (anapausis, GK 398), see v.28. Here the words “and you will find rest for your souls” are directly quoted from Jeremiah 6:16 (MT, not LXX).

The entire verse is steeped in OT language (cf. Gundry, Use of the Old Testament, 136); but if this is intended to be not just an allusion but a fulfillment passage, then Jesus is saying that “the ancient paths” and “the good way” (Jer 6:16) lie in taking on his yoke because he is the one to whom the OT Scriptures point. That yoke is “easy” (“good,” “comfortable,” GK 5982), and his burden is light (v.30). The “rest” he promises is not only for the world to come but also for this one as well.

The implicit contrast between Jesus’ yoke and that of others is not between antinomianism and legalism, for in a deep sense his demands (5:21–48) are far more radical than theirs; nor between salvation by law and salvation by grace (contra Barth, “Matthew’s Understanding of the Law,” 148 n. 2); nor between harsh attitudes among Jewish teachers of the law and Jesus’ humane and humble approach (Klostermann). No, the contrast is between the burden of submission to the OT in terms of Pharisaic regulation and the relief of coming under Jesus’ tutelage as under the authority of gentle Revealer to whom the OT, the ancient paths, truly pointed (cf. H. D. Betz, “The Logion of the Easy Yoke and of Rest [Matthew 11:28–30],” JBL 86 [1967]: 10–24).

OVERVIEW

Opposition to Jesus had already surfaced (9:3, 11, 14, 34; 10:25; 11:19). Now it erupts in a concrete issue that generates enough hatred to lead Jesus’ enemies to contemplate murder (v.14).

Matthew picks up the narrative from Mark 2:23 (cf. Mk 2:23–28; Lk 6:1–5) at the point where he had left the source as far back as Matthew 9:18. Only here does he speak of conflicts over the Sabbath (though cf. 13:54–58; 24:20).

The Jewish rules of conduct about Sabbath were extremely detailed; and it was wryly admitted that “the rules about the Sabbath ... are as mountains hanging by a hair, for [teaching of] Scripture [thereon] is scanty and the rules many” (m. Ḥag. 1:8). Yet for many Jews of Jesus’ day, the Sabbath was a joyful festival, a sign of the covenant, a reminder of divine creation in six days, and, provided the rules were obeyed, a means of gaining merit for Israel (Mek. 20:16; 23:15; 26:13; b. Šabb. 10b). At many points there were diverse interpretations; and though the Pharisees were strict, the Qumran covenanters were stricter yet (CD 10:14–11:8). For detailed study, see Carson, “Jesus and the Sabbath,” in From Sabbath to Lord’s Day, 58–97.

1At that time Jesus went through the grainfields on the Sabbath. His disciples were hungry and began to pick some heads of grain and eat them. 2When the Pharisees saw this, they said to him, “Look! Your disciples are doing what is unlawful on the Sabbath.”

3He answered, “Haven’t you read what David did when he and his companions were hungry? 4He entered the house of God, and he and his companions ate the consecrated bread—which was not lawful for them to do, but only for the priests. 5Or haven’t you read in the Law that on the Sabbath the priests in the temple desecrate the day and yet are innocent? 6I tell you that one greater than the temple is here. 7If you had known what these words mean, ‘I desire mercy, not sacrifice,’ you would not have condemned the innocent. 8For the Son of Man is Lord of the Sabbath.”

COMMENTARY

1 “At that time” need not mean the same day as the events of ch. 11 but “at about that time” (see

;

; cf. 13:1). Here it introduces an example of burdensome Pharisaic regulation (arising out of 11:28–30) along with the theme of rising opposition to Jesus that ties much of this section (11:2–13:53) together.

Various explanations have been advanced for what Jesus’ disciples (presumably the Twelve) did. Some scholars have noted that only Matthew mentions their hunger and have suggested that they ate the grain out of necessity (Kilpatrick, Origins, 116; Willy Rordorf, Sunday [London: SCM Press, 1968]). But there is no necessity unless one has not eaten for days. The reference to hunger is simply part of the story. Why else would the disciples pick a little grain? Samuele Bacchiocchi’s suggestion (From Sabbath to Sunday [Rome: Pontifical Gregorian Univ. Press, 1977], 50) that Jesus’ rebuke (v.7) implies that the Pharisees should have taken Jesus and his disciples home for lunch after the synagogue service instead of criticizing them for picking heads of grain is fanciful.

Manson (Sayings of Jesus, 190) remarks that Jesus and his disciples were going from place to place on missionary work and so invests their act with kingdom significance. But why, then, were they not charged with exceeding a Sabbath day’s journey (about eleven hundred meters; cf. m. Soṭah 5:3)? And what were the Pharisees doing there? The scene is reminiscent of a Sabbath afternoon stroll within the permitted distance. P. K. Jewett (The Lord’s Day [Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1971], 37) suggests the disciples were making a path for Jesus, an idea based on Mark’s “began to make their way.” This will not do in Matthew and wrongly interprets Mark. A path cannot be made merely by picking heads of grain. At the time fields were not separated by fences but by landmark stones (cf. Dt 19:14). Paths went right across fields or closely skirted them, the grain being sown to the field’s very edge and sometimes beyond (cf. 13:4); and the right to pluck grain casually (though not necessarily on the Sabbath) was established by Deuteronomy 23:25.

2 The Pharisees’ charge that the disciples were breaking the law was based, not on their picking grain in someone else’s field, but on the fact that picking grain—i.e., “reaping” (cf. y. Šabb. 7.2, 9.c)—was one of thirty-nine kinds of work forbidden on the Sabbath (m. Šabb. 7:2) under prevailing halakah. Though exceptions to these were granted in the case of temple service and where life was at stake, neither exception applied here. Sigal (Halakhah of Jesus, 160) argues that not all authorities prohibited what the disciples were doing; but Šabbat (Mishnah) 10:2, to which he refers, does not deal with casually picking grain in an open field and so is in any case irrelevant. At a much later period, the Gemara expressly permits picking grain by hand and eating it on the Sabbath but merely forbids the use of a tool (b. Šabb. 128a, b; cf. Bonnard). But this refinement is much later and may even owe something to Christian influence.

3–4 The use of counterquestion and appeal to Scripture was common, though not exclusively so, in rabbinic debates (cf. v.5; 19:4; 21:16, 42; 22:31). The account to which Jesus refers (1Sa 21:1–6) is from the “Former Prophets,” as the Jews called these books. On the regulations regarding the consecrated bread (lit., “bread of the presentation”), see Exodus 25:30; Leviticus 24:5–9.

The “house of God” that David entered was the tabernacle (cf. Ex 23:19; Jdg 18:31; 1Sa 1:7, 24; 3:15; 2Sa 12:20; Ps 5:7), at that time at Nob, just south of Jerusalem. Both David and his companions ate what should have been eaten only by the priests and did so after lying to the priest about their mission. It is possible that this event took place on a Sabbath, since 1 Samuel 21:5–6 sounds as if the consecrated bread had just been changed. Many Jews understood the text that way (cf. Str-B, 1:618–19; TDNT, 7:22). But Jesus makes nothing of David’s deceit nor depends on any supposition regarding the day on which it occurred. If it was on a Sabbath, others than the priests should not have eaten that bread; if it was not a Sabbath, the bread should not have been changed, let alone eaten by nonpriests.

The argument takes a common rabbinical form (cf. Sigal, Halakhah of Jesus, 162–63), namely, the juxtaposition of two apparently contradictory statements from Scripture in order to draw a halakic conclusion (a conclusion regarding regulations for conduct). On the one hand, David ate; on the other, it was unlawful for him to do so. Jesus’ point is not simply that rules admit of exceptions but that the Scriptures themselves do not condemn David for his action; therefore the rigidity of the Pharisees’ interpretation of the law is not in accord with Scripture itself (cf. Cranfield, Mark, 11–12; Lane, Mark, 117). The point is not “The Sabbath is delivered unto you, you are not delivered unto the Sabbath” (Mek. 26:13, cf. 2 Macc 5:19) but that the Pharisees’ approach to the OT was wrong and could not explain the incident of David.

How, then, does this apply to Jesus and his disciples? They were not desperate and famished, unlike David and his men. It is not even clear how they were breaking any OT law, where commandments about the Sabbath were aimed primarily at regular work. The disciples were not farmers trying to do some illicit work but were itinerant preachers casually picking some heads of grain. Indeed, apart from halakic interpretations, it is not at all obvious that any commandment of Scripture was being broken. It seems, then, that Jesus used the David incident not merely to question the Pharisees’ view of the Sabbath, for the David incident was not directly relevant. Rather he was questioning their approach to the law itself.

There is more. In the incident to which Jesus referred, regulations (even of the written law) were set aside for David “and his companions.” Is there not, therefore, a case for setting aside regulations (which had no clear base in the written law) for Jesus and those with him (so Hooker, Son of Man, 97–98)? This analogy holds good only if Jesus is at least as special as David, and it is to this conclusion that the argument builds in the following verses.

5–6 Jesus’ second appeal, preserved only in Matthew (doubtless because it was of interest to his Jewish-Christian readers), is from Torah in the narrow sense of Pentateuch (cf. Nu 28:9–10). Formally speaking, the Levitical priests “broke” the Sabbath every week (v.5), since the right worship of God in the temple required them to do some work (changing the consecrated bread [Lev 24:8] and offering the doubled burnt offering [Nu 28:9–10]). In reality, of course, the priests were guiltless. The law that established the Sabbath also established the right of the priests, formally speaking, to “break” it (for a similar argument, see Jn 7:21–23).

But how does this apply to Jesus and his disciples? The form of the argument is qal waḥomer (lit., “the light and the weighty,” an a fortiori argument [see

]), a recognized procedure for establishing a halakic regulation (Daube, New Testament and Rabbinic Judaism, 67ff.). But this is valid only if the “one greater than the temple” (v.6) is truly greater. The “one greater” is neuter (the masculine variant is poorly attested), as in vv.41–42—i.e., “something greater” (NIV text note). The neuter, however, can refer to persons when some quality is being stressed rather than the individual per se (Turner, Syntax, 21).

So the question remains: Who or what is greater than the temple? B. Gerhardsson (“Sacrificial Service and Atonement in the Gospel of Matthew,” in Reconciliation and Hope [ed. R. Banks; Exeter: Paternoster, 1974], 28), followed by David Hill (“On the Use and Meaning of Hosea vi.6 in Matthew’s Gospel,” NTS 24 [1978]: 115), argues that this refers to the service or worship of God in which Jesus was engaged. This is greater than the service of the temple performed by the priests. But Jesus and his disciples were not really “engaged” in such service while plucking heads of grain, the way the priests were engaged in worship on the Sabbath. Moreover, the comparison in the text is not with the service of the temple but with the temple itself.

Others have argued that what is greater than the temple is the love command (Sigal, Halakhah of Jesus, 163–66; cf. D. M. Cohn-Sherbok, “An Analysis of Jesus’ Arguments Concerning the Plucking of Grain on the Sabbath,” JSNT 2 [1979]: 31–41), finding support for this in the plea for mercy in v.7. But the supremacy of the love command has not yet been introduced (cf. 22:34–40). More important, the argument neglects the sequential-eschatological “is here.” This refutes Sigal’s insistence that Jesus is answering purely on the level of dispute over halakah. Instead, he is insisting that a new and greater development-thing-person has arrived at this point in history, something not there before. And the reference to “mercy” (v.7) is open to a better interpretation.

There are still other suggestions, but the most likely is that the “something greater” is either Jesus himself (Bornkamm, “End-Expectation and the Church,” 35) or the kingdom (Lohmeyer). And in fact the two merge into one. If the kingdom, it is the kingdom Jesus is inaugurating; if Jesus, it is not only Jesus as a man but as Messiah, Son of David (vv.3–4), Son of Man (v.8), the one who ushers in the messianic age. Yet “Jesus” is perhaps marginally more plausible, not only because of the christological connections just alluded to, but also because of the parallel drawn by Jesus himself between his own body and the temple (26:61; cf. Jn 2:20–21).

Jesus’ argument, then, provides an instance from the law itself in which the Sabbath restrictions were superseded by the priests because their cultic responsibilities took precedence: the temple, as it were, was greater than the Sabbath. But now, Jesus claims, “something” greater than the temple is here. And that, too, takes precedence over the Sabbath. This solution is entirely consistent with what we have perceived to be Jesus’ attitude to the law in this gospel. The law points to him and finds its fulfillment in him (see

). Not only, then, have the Pharisees mishandled the law by their halakah (vv.3–4), but they have failed to perceive who Jesus is. The authority of the temple laws shielded the priests from guilt; the authority of Jesus shields his disciples from guilt. It is not a matter of comparing Jesus’ action with the action of the priests; nor is it likely that Jesus is suggesting that all his disciples are priests (contra Lohmeyer). “Rather, it is a question of contrasting [new emphasis] [Jesus’] authority with the authority of the priests” (Carson, “Jesus and the Sabbath,” 67).

7–8 Again (cf. v.3) Jesus rebuked the Pharisees for their failure to understand the Scriptures (cf. Jn 5:39), and this time he quoted Hosea 6:6, as he had once before (see

). The relevance of this quotation from the “Latter Prophets” depends on the Pharisees’ attitude to the law being as worthy of condemnation as the attitude of those who relied superficially and hypocritically on mere ritual in Hosea’s day. Jesus claims, in effect, that the Pharisees have not really grasped the significance of the law, and this is demonstrated by their halakah. The accusers stand accused; the disciples are explicitly declared “innocent.” The Hosea quotation, with its emphasis on mercy, prompts Verseput (Rejection of the Humble Messianic King, 166–71) and others to argue that the most important issue in this Sabbath pericope is the mercy of God, rather than the authority of Jesus. But that is an unnecessary antithesis. The innocence of Jesus’ disciples was not established on their being hungry but on the ground that something greater than the temple was present. In other words, the Son of Man is Lord of the Sabbath. Whether “for” (v.8) relates to v.6 or v.7 is unclear and of little consequence. If the former, it sums up Messiah’s supremacy over the temple; if the latter, it does the same but also serves as explicit ground for the innocence of the disciples.

Some have argued that “Son of Man” here has corporate significance: the community of Jesus’ disciples together is “Lord” of the Sabbath (e.g., T. W. Manson, “The Son of Man in Daniel, Enoch and the Gospels,” BJRL 32 [1949–50]: 191). But this is based on a disputed understanding of “Son of Man” (see

, p. 247) and on a misunderstood connection with Mark 2:27 (see Carson, “Jesus and the Sabbath,” 62–65). In all three Synoptics, the Son of Man is David’s son, Jesus the Messiah (Hill). But the title is ambiguous enough that few would grasp the point until after the resurrection, at which time few could miss it. The claim (v.8) is implicitly messianic, a claim that goes beyond the mere right to tamper with halakah. It places the Son of Man in a position to handle the Sabbath law any way he wills, or to supersede it in the same way that the temple requirements superseded the normal Sabbath restrictions (cf. Hooker, Son of Man, 100ff.).

NOTES

4 Moule (Idiom Book, 27) points out that ὅ οὐκ ἐξὸν ἦν αὐτῷ φαγεῖν (ho ouk exon ēn autō phagein, “which was not lawful for him to eat”) is a mixed construction: the relative pronoun ὅ, ho, which refers to the eating of the bread in the preceding clause, seems to serve simultaneously as subject of οὐκ ἐξὸν ἦν, ouk exon ēn, and object of φαγεῖν, phagein. Moule suggests the clause is being treated as if it had begun with ἀλλά (alla, “but”) or καίπερ (kaiper, “although”).

The reading ἔφαγεν (ephagen, “he ate”) has very strong attestation but is rejected by Metzger (Textual Commentary, 31) and UBS⁴ in favor of ἔφαγον (ephagon, “they ate”), supported only by B and one minuscule, on the grounds that it represents the nonparallel reading (cf. Mk 2:26: Lk 6:4). But the change may have gone the other way, in order to make it unambiguous that not only David but all his men ate—a fact clearly relevant to Jesus and his disciples. “He ate and his companions” is an acceptable but ambiguous way of saying in Greek “he and his companions ate.”

OVERVIEW

Luke (6:6–11) specifies that this event took place on another Sabbath (cf. Mk 3:1–6). Unlike the previous pericope, Jesus does not refer to Scripture. This time it is his activity that is in question, not that of his disciples; his argument, at first glance a stinging ad hominem, holds deeper implications.

The first-century Jews discussed at length what was permitted in caring for the sick on the Sabbath (e.g., m. ʿEd. 2:5; m. Šabb. 6:3; Mek. 22:2; 23:13). Jesus’ attitude was more fundamental: it is lawful to do good on the Sabbath.

9Going on from that place, he went into their synagogue, 10and a man with a shriveled hand was there. Looking for a reason to accuse Jesus, they asked him, “Is it lawful to heal on the Sabbath?”

11He said to them, “If any of you has a sheep and it falls into a pit on the Sabbath, will you not take hold of it and lift it out? 12How much more valuable is a man than a sheep! Therefore it is lawful to do good on the Sabbath.”

13Then he said to the man, “Stretch out your hand.” So he stretched it out and it was completely restored, just as sound as the other. 14But the Pharisees went out and plotted how they might kill Jesus.

COMMENTARY

9–10 “Going on from that place” is a Matthean connective to move the action from the field to the synagogue without reference to time. Regarding “their” synagogue, see

;

. All three synoptists make plain the malice in the Pharisees’ watching (Mark) and question (Matthew). In Mark and Luke, Jesus precipitates the action by calling forward the man with the shriveled hand; in Matthew this is omitted.

The form of the Pharisees’ question in Matthew (v.10) is general. The customary Jewish ruling was that healing was permitted on the Sabbath when life was in danger (cf. m. Yoma 8:6; Mek. 22:2; 23:13), which of course did not apply here. Even so, what rabbinic discussion had in view was medical help by family members or professionals, not miraculous healings. But Jesus did not reply on that level.

11–13 For the third time in this gospel, Jesus’ argument depends on a contrast between animals and men (cf. 6:26; 10:31) and presupposes the greater value of human beings based on their special creation: man alone was made in the image of God (Ge 1–2). This particular argument occurs only in Matthew; but a similar analogy is drawn in Luke 13:15; 14:5. In all three instances, Jesus assumed that the Pharisees would lift an animal out of a pit on the Sabbath—though the most that was allowed at Qumran was to do something that would enable the animal to help itself (CD 11:13–14). Sigal (Halakhah of Jesus, 169–70), in support of his too rigid theory that the Pharisees are to be identified as perushim (see Introduction, ), is reduced to thinking that probaton hen (v.11) should be taken literally to mean “one sheep,” namely, the last one. But the expression probably means no more than “a sheep” (see

Jesus’ argument is again qal waḥomer (see

): If a sheep, how much more a man (v.12)? Neither the sheep in the pit nor the man in Jesus’ presence is in mortal danger. The question is simply one of doing good. This does not mean Jesus is saying that failure to do good is itself an evil thing (e.g., Klostermann; Cranfield, Mark, 120). Jesus is talking about what is “lawful,” not what is required, and if it were absolutely true that failure to do good is always evil, there would be no possibility of any rest at all. Jesus’ rhetorical question therefore has a narrower focus: Was the Sabbath a day for maleficent activity—such as their evil intentions in questioning him—or for beneficent action, such as the healing about to be done?

The healing (v.13), like that in 9:1–8, comes after the shocking word (in all three Synoptics) and therefore serves to confirm that word. The miracle itself says nothing of the man’s faith, since the focus is not on him but on the Pharisees. Yet in light of the preceding interchange, it also confirms Jesus’ claim to lordship over the Sabbath, as his healing in 9:1–8 confirmed his authority to forgive sins.

14 Much has been made of the fact that Matthew omits mention of the Herodians (Mk 3:6), as if that proves that the point of reference is now after AD 70, when the Herodians no longer existed and the sole opponents were the Pharisees (e.g., Hummel, Auseinandersetzung, 12ff.; Hill). But giving reasons for omissions in Matthew is extremely hazardous (see

). And in this instance it is noteworthy that Matthew mentions the Herodians in 22:16 and refers often to the Sadducees.

Sigal (Halakhah of Jesus, 175) wants apolesōsin (“destroy,” GK 660) to mean not “kill” but “put under the synagogue ban,” because no Pharisee would consider executing another Jew merely over a halakic dispute. While he is correct in the latter supposition, the point is that these Sabbath confrontations are not mere disputes over halakah; they have to do with Jesus’ fundamental messianic claims, a point vigorously denied by Sigal, who generally assigns a verse such as v.8 to later Christian theology and reduces the remainder to purely halakic categories. But it is very doubtful (contra Sigal) that Jesus tolerated the oral tradition implicit in much Jewish halakah (cf. Jeremias, New Testament Theology, 208–11). Moreover, the Sabbath-controversy pericopes cohere as they stand. This first mention of a plot to kill Jesus springs from disputes not about the legality of various Sabbath activities but about Jesus’ authority. The Sabbath conflicts are not the cause of the plotting but its occasion. Therefore, Sabbath disputes were not mentioned at Jesus’ trials; in themselves they were never as much an issue as Jesus’ claim to be Sabbath’s Lord.

OVERVIEW

Verses 15–16 constitute a brief summary of Mark 3:7–12, omitting, among other things, a “Son of God” title. To this summary Matthew adds a fulfillment passage, citing Isaiah 42:1–4. Thus he interprets Jesus’ healing ministry, not so much in terms of “Son of God” or even royal “Son of David” Christology, but in terms of Yahweh’s Suffering Servant (see

This section simultaneously contrasts the hatred of the Pharisees (v.14) with Jesus’ tranquility (v.19) and gentleness (v.20) and prepares the way for themes in the rest of the chapter (see comments below). Menken (Matthew’s Bible, 51–65) rightly underscores the relation between this quotation and the verse before this pericope: that verse, v.14, is the first to provide a direct reference to Jesus’ impending death, and so the effect of this quotation is to assert that Jesus’ withdrawal from some conflict and his commitment to silence and gentleness indicate the true nature of his mission and purpose, which will be fully revealed only later, in his death and resurrection. See also Richard Beaton’s chapter on the christological contribution of Isaiah 42:1–4 (Isaiah’s Christ in Matthew’s Gospel [SNTSMS 123; Cambridge: Cambridge Univ. Press, 2002], 174–91).

15Aware of this, Jesus withdrew from that place. Many followed him, and he healed all their sick, 16warning them not to tell who he was. 17This was to fulfill what was spoken through the prophet Isaiah:

18“Here is my servant whom I have chosen,

the one I love, in whom I delight;

I will put my Spirit on him,

and he will proclaim justice to the nations.

19He will not quarrel or cry out;

no one will hear his voice in the streets.

20A bruised reed he will not break,

and a smoldering wick he will not snuff out,

till he leads justice to victory.

21In his name the nations will put their hope.”

COMMENTARY

15–17 Jesus often withdrew when opposition became intense (cf. 4:12; 14:13; 15:21; 16:5)—at least that was his custom until the appointed hour arrived (26:45; cf. Jn 7:8). This practice becomes for his disciples an example of moving from place to place (10:23). Thus his extensive ministry continued (cf. 4:23; 8:16; 9:35). Warnings to those healed to keep silent increased for the same reasons as before and with as little effect (cf. 8:4; 9:30). But Jesus’ conduct under these pressures, Matthew perceives, was nothing less than the fulfillment of the Scriptures. Though the Pharisees might plot to kill him (v.14), he would not quarrel or cry out (v.19). Despite all Matthew has done to show Jesus to be the messianic Son of David and unique Son of God, he wants to separate himself from exclusively royal and militaristic interpretations of Messiah’s role. He knows that the ministry of Jesus Messiah must also be understood as the fulfillment of the prophecies of the Suffering Servant.

18–21 This quotation (Isa 42:1–4), the longest in Matthew, is remarkable for its text form. The changes have been variously assigned to Matthew’s “school” (Stendahl, School of St. Matthew, 107ff.), to a developing Christian apologetic (Lindars, New Testament Apologetic, 147–52), to the evangelist’s redactional interests (Hill). Certainly there is a mixed text-character here (for details, see Gundry, Use of the Old Testament, 110–16; Blomberg, “Matthew,” in CNTUOT), and the reason for each change is not easy to discern, though most of the quotation appears to be an independent rendering of the Hebrew rather than an adaptation of any manuscript in the LXX tradition.

The noun pais (“servant,” v.18, GK 4090) can also mean “son,” though the Hebrew is unambiguously “servant.” The servant in Isaiah 42 appears to be Israel. Matthew’s application to Jesus is part of his common pattern of seeing Jesus as the ultimate Israel, the fulfillment of Israel (e.g., see

). Cope (Matthew, 44–45), in line with his generally plausible view that this quotation anticipates the major themes of the rest of Matthew 12, suggests that Matthew exploits the Son-Servant ambiguity to anticipate vv.46–50—his disciples are brothers and sisters, but he is the unique Son of the Father. This seems tenuous, for elsewhere in Matthew God is the Father of the disciples (e.g. 6:9, 26; 10:29) as well as of Jesus (though in a somewhat different sense). The link between this quotation and vv.46–50 is on a different level, a christological one—namely, Jesus cannot be understood in terms of the normal family relationships that bind humanity. He is God’s chosen Servant, the one on whom God has poured out his Spirit with a specific mission in view. Therefore, his disciples, not his family, must be reckoned closest to him.

The words “whom I have chosen” (Heb., “whom I uphold”) may have been borrowed by Matthew from the second line of Isaiah 42:1, or from Isaiah 43:10; 44:1 (thus making the quotation composite); “the one I love” carries overtones of 3:17; 17:5, because love and election are closely connected. God’s “delight” in his servant and the mention of the Spirit God puts on him to a special degree (cf. Jn 3:34) remind us of both Jesus’ baptism and his transfiguration (3:16–17; 17:5), where Jesus was called God’s Son. Yet, far from subsuming Jesus’ servant role under his sonship (Kingsbury), Matthew omits Mark’s mention of “Son of God” (Mk 3:11) and here makes the servant motif preeminent (cf. Hill, “Son and Servant,” 4–12).

This “servant” will proclaim “justice” to the nations. Neither the Hebrew mišpāṭ (GK 5477) nor Greek krisis (GK 3213) easily suggests “the true faith” (JB). But the suggestion is not entirely without merit, since what is in view is “justice”—i.e., righteousness broadly conceived as the self-revelation of God’s character for the good of the nations (cf. Isa 51:4), yet at the same time calling them to account. Concern for the Gentiles thus emerges again (cf. 1:1; 2:1–12; 3:9; 4:15–16; 8:5–13 et al.) in anticipation of the Great Commission (28:18–20).

But even within this chapter, the twin themes of Spirit and Gentiles are programmatic (Cope, Matthew, 32ff.; Hill, “Son and Servant,” 10–11). God has poured out his Spirit on his Servant; so the exorcisms he performs by the Spirit constitute proof of the kingdom’s inauguration (v.28). Therefore, blasphemy against that Spirit cannot be forgiven (see

). Moreover, the pericope about the sign of Jonah (vv.38–41) returns to the theme of the place of the Gentiles in the merciful salvation of God and warns “this wicked generation” (v.45) once more.

The servant “will not quarrel or cry out” or raise his voice in the streets (v.19). The picture is not one of utter silence (else how could he “proclaim” justice [v.18]? cf. Jn 7:37) but of gentleness and humility (11:29), of quiet withdrawal (see

) and a presentation of his messiahship that is neither arrogant nor brash.

The first two lines of v.20 are very close to both LXX and MT. The double metaphor breathes compassion: the servant does not advance his ministry with such callousness to the weak that he breaks the bruised reed or snuffs out the smoldering wick (smoldering because it is either poorly trimmed or low on oil). This may include reference to Jesus’ attitude to the sick (v.15). But the last clause of v.20 (“till he leads justice to victory”), apparently a paraphrase of Isaiah 42:3 (“in faithfulness he will bring forth justice”) and Isaiah 42:4 (“till he establishes justice on earth”) under influence of Habakkuk 1:4 (cf. Gundry, Use of the Old Testament, 114–15), suggests something more—namely, that he brings eschatological salvation to the “harassed and helpless” (9:36), the “weary and burdened” (11:28).

“Leads” is a trifle weak for ekbalē (GK 1675): though the verb can have a wide semantic range, it requires something like “thrusts forth” in this context (used elsewhere in this chapter in vv.24, 26, 27 [2x], 28, 35 [2x]). What is pictured is a ministry so gentle and compassionate that the weak are not trampled on and crushed until justice, the full righteousness of God, triumphs. And for such a Messiah most Jews were little prepared (cf. Pss. Sol. 17:21). Small wonder that the Gentiles put their hope in his name (v.21, cf. Isa 11:10; Ro 15:12). The Hebrew reads (lit.) “the coastlands wait for his laws,” but the word “coastlands” often signifies Gentiles (ethnē; NIV, “nations,” GK 1620). “Will put their hope” (elpizō, GK 1827) is idiomatic for “look forward to” or “expect.”

“Name” (onoma, GK 3950) follows the LXX, even though the MT has “law” (tôrâ, “teaching,” GK 9368). In view of the mixed text-character, which testifies to Matthew’s ability and willingness to use the MT or to set it aside (unless, with Gundry [Use of the Old Testament, 115–16], we postulate that LXX here renders a lost Hebrew original), this must be thought strange if certain recent reconstructions of the importance of the law in Matthew are correct (see Introduction, ). However, if, as we have maintained, the law in this gospel serves primarily to point to Jesus, then it is not surprising that Matthew prefers the LXX term. For “in his name,” see

OVERVIEW

For a convenient summary of the parallels, see Albright and Mann. The analogous incident in 9:32–34 is not a doublet but a sample of the same outrageous charge that is raised in 12:24.

22Then they brought him a demon-possessed man who was blind and mute, and Jesus healed him, so that he could both talk and see. 23All the people were astonished and said, “Could this be the Son of David?”

24But when the Pharisees heard this, they said, “It is only by Beelzebub, the prince of demons, that this fellow drives out demons.”

COMMENTARY

22 The tote (“then”) is very loose (see

;

), and probably this event took place a good deal later (compare Mark and Luke). The NIV sounds as if the man suffered from three distinct ailments; the Greek, very condensed, puts blind and mute (kōphos, GK 3273, as in 9:32) in opposition to “demon-possessed,” suggesting the latter is the cause of the other two. The healing itself is told with admirable brevity, for it is not so much the miracle itself that captures the attention of the synoptists as the confrontation that follows.

23–24 The acute astonishment of the crowd (the verb existanto [GK 2014], “were astonished,” is used only here in Matthew, though it is common in Mark and Luke) prompted the question. Its form in Greek suggests the crowds were none too sure: “This couldn’t be the Son of David, could it?” The question does not ask whether Jesus is a magician of the kind that popular superstition said David’s son Solomon was (contra Loren L. Fisher, “Can This Be the Son of David?” in Jesus and the Historian [ed. F. T. Trotter; Philadelphia: Westminster, 1968], 82–97) but whether Jesus is the Messiah (see

;

;

). The Messiah was expected to perform miracles (cf. v.38), so the exorcism/healing stood in Jesus’ favor. But perhaps his reticence, his nonregal sayings, and his servant ministry engendered doubt. Matthew’s readers can see the connection between the Suffering Servant (vv.18–21) and the Son of David (vv.22–23), but those who witnessed Jesus’ ministry could not view it in the light of the resurrection.

On “Beelzebub” (v.24), see

OVERVIEW

While the structure of vv.25–37 is parallel to that of Mark 3:23–30, Matthew’s length is surprising. Some but not all of Matthew’s “response” section is closer to Luke than to Mark. Most likely, Matthew used both Mark and a “Q” source for this narrative. Part of Jesus’ response in Matthew is scattered in Luke (cf. Lk 6:43–45; 11:17–23; 12:10), prompting some to think this passage is a composite of a number of independent sayings. While this is possible—the transitions are loose, and, unlike the five major discourses, the end of the response is not decisive—it is also possible that one of the two Lukan parallels (Lk 6:43–45) has been placed elsewhere for topical reasons and that the other (12:10) is simply a report of a similar saying. At any rate the argument in Matthew 12:25–37 is unified and coherent.

25Jesus knew their thoughts and said to them, “Every kingdom divided against itself will be ruined, and every city or household divided against itself will not stand. 26If Satan drives out Satan, he is divided against himself. How then can his kingdom stand? 27And if I drive out demons by Beelzebub, by whom do your people drive them out? So then, they will be your judges. 28But if I drive out demons by the Spirit of God, then the kingdom of God has come upon you.”

COMMENTARY

25–26 Jesus “knew their thoughts” (cf. 9:4). The narrative is condensed, and the “house” is not mentioned (cf. Mk 3:20, 23). The argument is clear: any kingdom, city, or household that develops internal strife will destroy itself. The same holds true for Satan’s basileia (“kingdom,” v.26, GK 993), his exercise of authority among his minions (cf. H. Kruse, “Das Reich Satans,” Bib 58 [1977]: 29–61). “For the prince of the demons to cast out his subjects would be virtually casting out himself, since they were doing his work” (Broadus, 269).

27 Whether the words hoi huioi hymōn (lit., “your sons”) mean no more than “your people” (the Jews) or those instructed by the Pharisees (cf. 22:15–16, 23:9–15) is uncertain. Jesus’ argument is ad hominem: he is saying “your sons” drive out demons on occasion (a not uncommon practice linked to some bizarre notions; cf. Josephus, Ant. 8.45–8 [2.5]; J.W. 7.185 [6.3]; Tob 8:2–3; Justin Martyr Dial. 85; cf. Ac 19:13), and I do this so powerfully that great damage is done to Satan’s kingdom. So if I who do so much damage to his kingdom by my exorcisms perform them by Satan’s power, by whom do your sons drive out demons?

28 Luke 11:20 has “the finger of God” instead of “the Spirit of God.” Possibly the latter is original (cf. Dunn, Jesus and the Spirit, 44–46), but the matter is of little consequence since they both refer to the same thing (cf. Ex 8:19; Dt 9:10; Ps 8:3). Matthew’s phrase makes a clearer connection with 12:18 (Isa 42:1) and a more specific contrast with Beelzebub (cf. Gundry). Only here and in 19:24; 21:31, 43 does Matthew have “kingdom of God” instead of “kingdom of heaven” (see

). This may reflect his source, common to Luke (though elsewhere, when following a source, Matthew changes to “kingdom of heaven” except at 19:24), or he may use “kingdom of God” stylistically to go with “Spirit of God.” What is certain is that Jesus knows that his exorcisms, performed by the Spirit of God, prove that the kingdom age has already dawned.

Of course this also implies that Jesus is King Messiah without explicitly affirming it. Dunn (Jesus and the Spirit, 46–69) rightly emphasizes the realized eschatology but overstates his Spirit Christology when he adds, “The eschatological kingdom was present for Jesus only because the eschatological Spirit was present in and through him. In other words, it was not so much a case of ‘Where I am there is the kingdom,’ as, ‘Where the Spirit is there is the kingdom’” (emphasis his).

Four considerations argue strongly against this view.

1. Dunn has introduced a disjunction alien to the text (“only because the eschatological Spirit was present,” he says) and maintains the disjunction by interpreting Jesus’ messianic claims in non-Spirit dress as anachronistic. Jesus knew both that he was unique, the promised Messiah, and that the eschatological Spirit was on him.

2. If Jesus’ self-recognition turned exclusively on his ability to exorcise demons by the Spirit’s power, then on what basis could he deny similar self-recognition to the “your people” (v.27) who also drove out demons? In other words, Spirit-prompted phenomena were not sufficient in themselves for Jesus’ self-understanding, especially in the light of his own warnings in this respect (cf. 7:21–23).

3. Dunn has too quickly turned this pericope into a question of Jesus’ self-understanding (“The eschatological kingdom was present for Jesus,” he says), whereas on the face of it Jesus is arguing, not to convince himself, but manifestly to convince the Pharisees that the kingdom had come on them.

4. In his gospel’s structure Matthew is less interested in Jesus’ self-understanding than in his apologetics and fulfillment of OT prophecies (see the reference to Spirit in v.18).

NOTES

26 The first clause is an excellent instance of a “real” condition, εἰ (ei, “if”) plus the indicative, in which the “reality” need not be admitted by the speaker but only assumed for the sake of argument (cf. Grammar, 1008; Zerwick, Biblical Greek, para. 306).

29“Or again, how can anyone enter a strong man’s house and carry off his possessions unless he first ties up the strong man? Then he can rob his house.”

COMMENTARY

29 The opening ē (lit., “or”; cf. 7:9; 12:5; 20:15) here means “or look at it another way.” Some Jewish expectation looked forward to the binding of Satan in the messianic age (As. Mos. 10:1; cf. Rev 20:2), and under this metaphor Jesus is the one who ties up the strong man (Satan) and carries off his “possessions” (ta skeuē; “vessels” preserves the metaphor of the house and has no relation to [demonic] possession except metaphorically). The argument has thus advanced: if Jesus’ exorcisms cannot be attributed to Satan (vv.25–26), then they reflect authority greater than that of Satan. By this greater power Jesus is binding “the strong man” and plundering his “house.” So the kingdom of heaven is forcefully advancing (see

30“He who is not with me is against me, and he who does not gather with me scatters. 31And so I tell you, every sin and blasphemy will be forgiven men, but the blasphemy against the Spirit will not be forgiven. 32Anyone who speaks a word against the Son of Man will be forgiven, but anyone who speaks against the Holy Spirit will not be forgiven, either in this age or in the age to come.”

COMMENTARY

30 Here several of Jesus’ sayings are aphoristic. Their relation to the pericope is internal, not grammatical; and the relation to what precedes goes back to the tradition itself and cannot be ascribed to Matthew (cf. Lk 11:23).

The general thrust of v.30 is straightforward: in our relationship to Jesus there can be no neutrality. As to some issues and persons, neutrality is possible and may even be wise. But in the great struggle (vv.25–29), neutrality is impossible. The claims of the kingdom and the demands of Jesus are so exclusivistic that to be indifferent or apathetic to him is to be on the side of those who do not confess that he is the Messiah who brings in the kingdom of God (cf. 11:16–24).

Jesus’ claim implies a high Christology, which is underlined by the harvest figure in v.30b (cf. 3:12; 6:26; Jn 4:36). Jesus is the one who will harvest in the last days, a function the OT regularly assigns to God. Hill (217) objects to the authenticity of the setting of this saying on the grounds that an affirmation about the impossibility of neutrality with respect to Jesus “is hardly likely to have been addressed to implacable opponents such as the Pharisees.” But crowds were also present (v.23). And this form of statement could serve as both a rebuke to the Pharisees and a warning to the questioning crowd that failure to follow Jesus wholeheartedly is as dangerous as outright opposition.

The inverted saying—“whoever is not against us is for us” (Mk 9:40; Lk 9:50)—and this one “are not contradictory if the one was spoken to the indifferent about themselves and the other to the disciples about someone else” (McNeile, 177).

31–32 “And so”—dia touto (lit., “on account of this”)—ties the statements about blasphemy against the Spirit (v.31) to the preceding verse. But the transition cannot easily be readily grasped until vv.31–32 are understood. Introduced by the solemn “I tell you” (see

), these statements constitute a pair, one from Mark (Mt 12:31 = Mk 3:28–29), one from Q (Mt 12:32 = Lk 12:10, in a different context; see comments above). “Blasphemy” (blasphēmia, GK 1060) is extreme slander (see

), equivalent to “speaking against” (cf. 12:32). Blasphemy against God was viewed by Jews with utmost gravity (26:65); but here Jesus makes a sharp distinction between blasphemy against the Son of Man, which is forgivable, and blasphemy against the Spirit, which is not.

His statement is remarkable because one of the glories of the biblical faith is the great emphasis Scripture lays on the graciousness and wideness of God’s forgiveness (e.g., Pss 65:3; 86:5; 130:3–4; Isa 1:18; Mic 7:19; 1Jn 1:7). A common interpretation of vv.31–32 is that they originated with a Christian prophet speaking for the exalted Jesus and are here read back into the life of the earthly Jesus. The blasphemy against the Son of Man is rejection of him by nonbelievers, and this is clearly forgivable when a person becomes a Christian. But blasphemy against the Holy Spirit is committed by a Christian (Christians after Pentecost would understand that only believers enjoy the Spirit) and is equivalent either to apostasy or to rejection of a Christian prophet’s inspired message. For this there is no forgiveness (so Stendahl, “Matthew,” in Peake’s Commentary; and in a highly structured scheme, M. E. Boring, “The Unforgivable Sin Logion Mark III 28–29/Matt XII 31–32/Luke XII 10: Formal Analysis and History of the Tradition,” NovT 18 [1976]: 258–79).

But there is strong and consistent evidence that the writers of the NT did not read words of Christian prophets back into the life of the historical Jesus (cf. J. D. G. Dunn, “Prophetic ‘I’-Sayings and the Jesus Tradition: The Importance of Testing Prophetic Utterances within Early Christianity,” NTS 24 [1978]: 175–98). It is highly unlikely that “Son of Man” would be used as an object of blasphemy without some qualifications about “Son of Man” (i.e., as “earthly Jesus only,” etc.), which do not appear until Origen. Moreover, this does not explain what these sayings are doing in their gospel contexts (esp. Mark and Matthew).

The views of many older conservative scholars are also unhelpful. Broadus, for instance, ties blasphemy against the Holy Spirit to the “age of miracles” when the Spirit’s power could be directly perceived—and rejected. But apart from the question of whether miracles take place now, Jesus elsewhere warned that miracles are not necessarily the criterion of true discipleship (7:21–23); i.e., they do not necessarily reveal the Spirit’s presence and power.

Among the many other interpretations of this difficult incident, the best treats it in its setting during Jesus’ life. The Pharisees have been attributing to Satan the work of the Spirit and have been doing so, as Jesus makes plain, in such a way as to reveal that they speak, not out of ignorance or unbelief, but out of a “conscious disputing of the indisputable” (the phrase is from G. C. Berkouwer, Sin [Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1971], 340; cf. 323–53, to which this exposition is indebted).

The distinction between blasphemy against the Son of Man and blasphemy against the Spirit is not that the Son of Man is less important than the Spirit, or that the first sin is prebaptismal and the second postbaptismal, still less that the first is against the Son of Man and the second rejects the authority of Christian prophets. Instead, within the context of the larger argument, the first sin is rejection of the truth of the gospel (but there may be repentance and forgiveness for that), whereas the second sin is rejection of the same truth in full awareness that this is exactly what one is doing—thoughtfully, willfully, and self-consciously rejecting the work of the Spirit, even though there can be no other explanation of Jesus’ exorcisms than that. It thus becomes a declaration that one is against God (see Verseput, Rejection of the Humble Messianic King, 236–38). For such a sin there is no forgiveness, “either in this age or the age to come” (cf. 13:22; 25:46)—a dramatic way of saying “never” (as in Mk 3:29).

If this interpretation is correct, the distinction between Son of Man and Spirit is relatively incidental. After all, blasphemy against the Spirit is also a rejection of Jesus’ own claims: the christological implications of the sin are not diminished but increased in moving from “blasphemy against the Son of Man” to “blasphemy against the Spirit.” This provides a clue for understanding how the unforgivable sin of which Jesus here speaks compares with the sins referred to in Hebrews 6:4–6; 10:26–31; and possibly 1 John 5:16. In each instance there is self-conscious perception of where the truth lies and the light shines—and a willful turning away from it. This is very different from Paul’s persecution of the church (1Co 15:9), which was not unforgivable (1Ti 1:13).

C. K. Barrett (The Holy Spirit and the Gospel Tradition [London: SPCK, 1966], 106–7) discusses this matter wisely, except for his assumption that the sin is committed within the church and “because it denies the root and spring of the church’s life, cannot rediscover the forgiveness by which the sinner first entered the community of the forgiven.” But the biblical texts are more subtle than that. The author of Hebrews says, with a surprising combination of tenses, “We have come [perfect] to share in Christ if we hold firmly [aorist subjunctive] to the end the confidence we had at first” (Heb 3:14). In other words, our past participation in the blessings of the gospel is valid only if we continue in it. John presupposes the same thing—that those who leave the church show they never really belonged in it (1Jn 2:19; 2Jn 9). Even Hebrews 6:4–6; 10:26–31 show how much of the truth may be grasped, how much of the life of the age to come may be sampled, without coming to the place from which there is no turning back (cf. Philip E. Hughes, A Commentary on the Epistle to the Hebrews [Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1977]). This is apostasy, and it involves a break with what one has formally adhered to.

The universal witness of the NT is that apostasy if persisted in not only damns but shows that salvation was never real in the first place. The NT reveals how close one may come to the kingdom—tasting, touching, perceiving, understanding. And it also shows that to come this far and reject the truth is unforgivable. So it is here. Jesus charges that those who perceive that his ministry is empowered by the Spirit and then, for whatever reason—whether spite, jealousy, or arrogance—ascribe it to Satan, have put themselves beyond the pale. For them there is no forgiveness, and that is the verdict of the one who has authority to forgive sins (9:5–8).

The significance of the transitional words “and so” now becomes plain. Neutrality to Jesus is actually opposition to him (v.30); therefore Jesus gives this warning regarding those who blaspheme against the Spirit, since the self-professedly neutral person may not recognize the inherent danger of his or her position. See Graham A. Cole, He Who Gives Life: The Doctrine of the Holy Spirit (Wheaton, Ill.: Crossway, 2007); D. A. Carson, “Reflections on Assurance,” in Still Sovereign: Contemporary Perspectives on Election, Foreknowledge, and Grace (ed. Thomas R. Schreiner and Bruce A. Ware; Grand Rapids: Baker, 2000), 247–76.

OVERVIEW

This section has no parallel in Mark, but it fits well into Matthew. A similar metaphor occurs in 7:16–19, but there the point is that Jesus’ disciples must test character by conduct, whereas here it is that conduct, especially speech, reveals character. Therefore the only remedy is a radical change of heart. Parts of vv.33–34 are also reflected in Luke 6:43–45.

33“Make a tree good and its fruit will be good, or make a tree bad and its fruit will be bad, for a tree is recognized by its fruit. 34You brood of vipers, how can you who are evil say anything good? For out of the overflow of the heart the mouth speaks. 35The good man brings good things out of the good stored up in him, and the evil man brings evil things out of the evil stored up in him. 36But I tell you that men will have to give account on the day of judgment for every careless word they have spoken. 37For by your words you will be acquitted, and by your words you will be condemned.”

COMMENTARY

33 It is possible to construe the expression “make a tree good ... bad” to mean “suppose a tree is good ... bad.” But in that case, the word “and” fits badly, and the final “for” clause relates poorly to what precedes. Jesus is rather telling his hearers to make the tree good or bad, knowing that its fruit will be correspondingly good or bad, because a tree is recognized by its fruit (cf. Sir 27:6). To speculate on the means—pruning, grafting, watering, fertilizing—is to go beyond the metaphor.

34–35 Then Jesus drives the point home. “You brood of vipers” (see

;

) was most likely addressed to the Pharisees in the crowd (cf. 12:23–24), though this is not certain (cf. 7:11). Verse 35 makes a tight connection with v.33: what a person truly is determines what he says and does. Out of the perisseuma (“overflow,” GK 4354—what remains, the excess) the “mouth speaks.” Perisseuma is used here and in Luke 6:45 in reference to the heart, the center of human personality (see

). It is the mouth that reveals what is in the heart. How, then, can those who are evil say anything good? What is needed is a change of heart.

36–37 These two verses occur only in Matthew. That Jesus describes the evil of the “brood of vipers” in terms of their hearts or natures does not thereby excuse them. Far from it! A person will be held accountable on the day of judgment for “every careless word.” The Greek argos (“careless,” GK 734) does not refer here to “unfounded” words (JB) but to words that might be thought “insignificant” (Stendahl, “Matthew,” in Peake’s Commentary) except for their revealing what is in the heart. Jesus is saying that every spoken word reflects the heart’s overflow and is known to God. Therefore, words are of critical importance (cf. Eph 5:3–4, 12; Col 3:17; Jas 1:19; 3:1–12).

The change to the second person (v.37) implies that the saying may be proverbial. Here it heightens the warning that what one says about Jesus and his miracles reveals what one is and that he will be judged accordingly. Jesus’ authority in saying this is staggering. It is not he who is being assessed when men ask, “Could this be the Son of David?” (v.23), or utter blasphemies (v.24); it is they who are being assessed, and by their words they will be judged.

NOTES

36 The syntax is difficult. If πᾶν ῥῆμα ἀργόν (pan rhēma argon, “every careless word”) is construed as nominative, there is an awkward anacolouthon ( ... περὶ αὐτοῦ λόγον [peri autou logon, lit., “concerning his (or its) word”]; cf. 13:19); but this may be accusative by attraction to the relative ὅ (ho, “which”).

38Then some of the Pharisees and teachers of the law said to him, “Teacher, we want to see a miraculous sign from you.”

COMMENTARY

38 One might take apekrithēsan (“answered,” GK 646; NIV, “said”) as meaning that the Pharisees and teachers of the law were continuing the controversy. This is possible, and the parallel in Luke 11:29–32 is sufficiently detached from its context to permit this interpretation. But apekrithēsan does not always have its full strength in Matthew (see

), so it seems best not to insist on the continuance of the controversy.

The Jewish leaders phrased their question respectfully (“Teacher”; see

) and asked for a “sign” (sēmeion, GK 4956), not just for another miracle. Jesus had already done many miracles. OT and intertestamental Jewish literature shed light on the request (cf. TDNT, 7:208–21, 225–29; TDOT, 1:167–88; see 1Sa 2:30–33; 1Ki 20:1–14; Isa 7:10–25; b. Sanh. 98a; b. B. Meṣ. 59b; cf. O. Linton, “The Demand for a Sign from Heaven [Mk 8:11–12 and Parallels],” ST 19 [1965]: esp. 123ff.). A sign was usually some miraculous token to be fulfilled quickly, or at once, to confirm a prophecy. The Jews were not asking for just another miracle, since they had already persuaded themselves that at least some of those Jesus had performed were of demonic agency (v.24); they were asking for a “sign” performed on command to remove what seemed to them to be the ambiguity of Jesus’ miracles. (In John, “sign” is not so much something people ask for as the evangelist’s standard label for what the synoptists call “powers” or “wonders.” The “signs” Jesus performs under John’s pen bear implicit and explicit symbolic weight.)

39He answered, “A wicked and adulterous generation asks for a miraculous sign! But none will be given it except the sign of the prophet Jonah. 40For as Jonah was three days and three nights in the belly of a huge fish, so the Son of Man will be three days and three nights in the heart of the earth. 41The men of Nineveh will stand up at the judgment with this generation and condemn it; for they repented at the preaching of Jonah, and now one greater than Jonah is here. 42The Queen of the South will rise at the judgment with this generation and condemn it; for she came from the ends of the earth to listen to Solomon’s wisdom, and now one greater than Solomon is here.”

COMMENTARY

39–40 The Pharisees and teachers of the law did not, in Jesus’ view, stand alone. They represented this “wicked and adulterous generation” (cf. 11:16–24). “Adultery” was frequently used by OT prophets to describe the spiritual prostitution and wanton apostasy of Israel (e.g., Isa 50:1; 57:3; Jer 3:8; 13:27; 31:32; Eze 16:15, 32, 35–42; Hos 2:1–7; 3:1). Here Jesus applies it to his contemporaries, as did his brother James later on (Jas 4:4). Israel had largely abandoned her idolatry and syncretism after the exile. But now Jesus insists that she is still adulterous in heart. In the past God had graciously granted “signs” to strengthen the faith of the timid (e.g., Abraham [Ge 15]; Gideon [Jdg 6:17–24]; Joshua [Jos 10]). Here, however, Jesus says that signs are denied “this wicked and adulterous generation,” because they are never to be performed on demand or as a sop to unbelief (cf. 1Co 1:22).

In Mark 8:11–12, Jesus refuses to give any sign; but in Matthew and Luke (Q) the sign of Jonah is expected. This has led many to conclude that the reference to Jonah is an unauthentic, late addition (Stendahl, “Matthew,” in Peake’s Commentary; G. Schmitt [“Das Zeichen Jona,” ZNW (1978): 123–29] suggests that the addition was made in the seventh decade AD through the influence of Lives of the Prophets). On the other hand, Taylor (Mark, 63) suggests Mark has abbreviated the original in the interests of his “messianic secret” theme so as to produce a flat refusal to provide a sign. But the difference between Mark and the other two synoptists may be more subtle. Rightly understood the sign, which is the exception in Matthew and Luke, is not a sign at all, as Jesus’ opponents understood the word. It becomes a sign only for those with eyes to see. In that sense, there is no exception: Jesus offers no miraculous token on demand. That is Mark’s point—a point not contradicted by the “exception” the other synoptists record.

But what is “the sign of Jonah”? This question is tied to the absence of v.40 from the parallel in Luke and its being regarded as a late addition. The argument, it is said, must therefore run from v.39 to v.41; and the sign of Jonah must be his preaching of repentance, a ministry in which Jesus has likewise been engaged. Verse 40 is, then, a late typological addition.

Nevertheless, a good case can be made for the authenticity of v.40 (cf. especially France, Jesus and the Old Testament, 80–82). Luke does not simply “drop out” Matthew 12:40. Rather, following the reference to the “sign of Jonah,” Luke writes (11:30), “For as Jonah was a sign to the Ninevites, so also will the Son of Man be to this generation.” He then includes the visit of the Queen of the South before returning to the men of Nineveh, who will rise up and condemn Jesus’ contemporaries (cf. Mt 12:41). In other words, Luke, for whom Jonah’s preaching is not a sign, does not support the alleged continuity between Matthew 12:39 and 12:41. If this is correct, then either v.40 is an enlargement of an original but cryptic Luke 11:30, or else Luke 11:30 is an effort to veil the specificity of an original Matthew 12:40. The latter view is more credible, for Luke has an obvious reason for making the saying more cryptic—namely, the reference to three days and three nights, so readily understood in Matthew’s Jewish environment (see below), would be problematic to Luke’s readers, who would see a conflict with the length of time Jesus was actually in the tomb. The same concern doubtless accounts for Justin Martyr’s quoting (Dial. 107:1) Matthew 12:39 and saying that Jesus was speaking cryptically of the resurrection, though Justin does not actually quote v.40.

The rejection of v.40 is tied to the interpretation of the “sign of Jonah.” If v.40 is removed, the “sign” is most likely the preaching. But this is intrinsically unlikely. In both Matthew and Luke, the sign is future to Jesus’ utterance (Mt 12:39; Lk 11:30), which suits Jesus’ death and resurrection but not his preaching. Verse 40, therefore, becomes an integral part of Matthew’s pericope. And the contention of R. A. Edwards (The Sign of Jonah [London: SCM Press, 1971], 25ff.) that the sayings of this pericope are in the form of a new Gattung, a Christian invention after Jesus’ time, has been disproved by lists of much older examples of the same form (cf. Daryl Schmidt, “The LXX Gattung ‘Prophetic Correlative,’” JBL 96 [1977]: 517–22).

In “the sign of Jonah,” then, “of Jonah” must be construed as an epexegetic genitive (Zerwick, Biblical Greek, para. 45; Turner, Syntax, 214). It is the sign that Jonah himself was, not the sign given him or presented by him. This interpretation commonly accepts the view that the Ninevites learned what had happened to Jonah and how he got to their city. Jonah himself thus served as a “sign” to the Ninevites, for he appeared to them as one who had been delivered from certain death (cf. TDNT, 3:409; Eugene H. Merrill, “The Sign of Jonah,” JETS 23 [1980]: 23–30). As Jonah was three days and three nights in the belly of the fish, so the Son of Man—seen here in his suffering role (see

)—will be three days and three nights in the “heart [perhaps an echo of Jnh 2:3; cf. Ps 46:2] of the earth”—a reference to Jesus’ burial, not his descent into Hades. That is to say, Jesus’ preaching will be attested by a deliverance like Jonah’s, only still greater; therefore, there will be greater condemnation for those who reject the significance of Jonah’s deliverance.

Some scholars perceive the strength of the argument for the authenticity of this pericope but interpret v.40 as if it were referring to the “sign” of the coming Son of Man (24:30), or to Jesus’ vague awareness that he must die sometime, or to the fact that Jesus by his suffering will carry the truth of God to the Gentiles as Jonah did. But this overlooks the connection between Jonah and Jesus established by the text. Grant the authenticity of v.40, and the only legitimate conclusion is that Jesus knew long in advance about his death, burial, and resurrection and saw his life moving toward that climax. The christological implications must not be avoided.

Jonah spent “three days and three nights” in the fish (Jnh 1:17). But if the normal sequence of Passion Week is correct (see ), Jesus was in the tomb only about thirty-six hours. Since they included parts of three days, by Jewish reckoning Jesus was buried “three days,” or to put it another way, he rose “on the third day” (16:21). But this does not cover more than two nights. Some advocate a Wednesday crucifixion date (see ); but though that allows for “three days and three nights,” it runs into difficulty with “on the third day.” In rabbinical thought, a day and a night make an onah, and a part of an onah is as the whole (cf. Str-B, 1:649, for references; see also 1Sa 30:12–13; 2Ch 10:5, 12; Est 4:16; 5:1). Thus according to Jewish tradition, “three days and three nights” need mean no more than “three days” or the combination of any part of three separate days.

41 The first point of comparison between Jonah and Jesus is that they were both delivered from death—a deliverance that attested the trustworthiness of their preaching. The second point of comparison is the different responses of the hearers. The men of Nineveh repented. But even though “something [neuter, as in 12:6; NIV, ‘one’] greater than Jonah is here”—the reference is to Jesus, not his deliverance, because the comparison is with Jonah, not his deliverance—the people of Jesus’ day—“this generation” (cf. v.39)—did not repent. Therefore men of Nineveh (the nouns are anarthrous) “will stand up with” this generation at the final judgment; i.e., they will rise to bear witness against them (see

; on the Semitic legal idiom, see Mk 14:57; Black, Aramaic Approach, 134). Thus Jesus’ “sign” does not meet the Jews’ demand for a special token (see

). Yet it is the only one he will provide. For his own followers, his authority will be grounded in his death and resurrection. And as for those who do not believe, they will only prove themselves more wicked than the Ninevites.

42 Jonah and Solomon are linked in other Jewish literature (cf. D. Correns, “Jona und Salomo,” in Wort in der Zeit [ed. W. Haubeck and M. Bachmann; Leiden: Brill, 1980], 86–94). The nature of the link—Jonah and the queen with “this generation” rising at the judgment—strongly supports the view that for Jesus, Jonah was a historical person. The Queen of the South (the Arabian peninsula, which for the Jews was “at the ends of the earth”; cf. Jer 6:20; Joel 3:8 NASB) was the queen of Sheba (1Ki 10:1–13), who came to Jerusalem because of reports of Solomon’s wisdom. But Jesus is “something greater” (see

) than Solomon; Jesus is the Messiah, who will introduce the promised eschatological age. Therefore, the queen of Sheba will rise at the judgment to join the Ninevites in condemning the unbelieving generation of Jesus’ time.

NOTES

41 The phrase εἰς τὸ κήρυγμα ᾽Ιωνᾶ (eis to kērygma Iōna, “at the preaching of Jonah”) cannot be final but establishes the ground for the Ninevites’ repentance. On this rather rare use of εἰς, eis, see Turner, Syntax, 255; Zerwick, Biblical Greek, para. 106; BDF, para. 207; cf. Notes, 10:41.

OVERVIEW

The parallel in Luke 11:24–26 is, as here, tied to the Beelzebub controversy, though the preceding verse is different (Lk 11:23 = Mt 12:30). Though many think Luke applies the parable to the individual and Matthew to the nation, this contrast is too facile. Luke omits (according to the best texts) the connective de (“and” or “but”). This suggests an independent saying that fits the movement of the chapter but is not meant to be tied too tightly to the verse preceding it. The warning in both Matthew and Luke is not (contra Marshall, Gospel of Luke, 479) aimed at “those who exorcise demons without giving a positive substitute to their patients.” In both Matthew (12:27) and Luke (11:19) the comparison Jesus draws between himself and other exorcists is not meant to prove his superiority but to show that even Jewish exorcists achieve some success in their work by virtue not of Beelzebub but of God’s power.

This story about the unclean spirit who after being driven out returns with seven wicked spirits goes beyond Jesus’ comparison, for Luke (11:21–22) has shown Jesus’ authority in binding Satan, and Matthew (12:39–42) has insisted that Jesus is greater than Jonah and Solomon. In other words, in both gospels this pericope is set in a milieu of veiled messianic claims. The point here and in Luke is that those who through the kingdom power of God experience exorcisms must beware of neutrality toward Jesus the Messiah, for neutrality opens the door to seven demons worse than the one driven out. Commitment to Jesus is essential. Thus the pericope supports Luke 11:23, which, like Matthew 12:30, rules out neutrality.

Against the broader background in Matthew of the Beelzebub controversy and the sign of Jonah, in sweeping out the house and ridding it of its demons, Jesus has been testifying to the presence of the kingdom (v.28). Yet many of that “wicked and adulterous generation” are so neutral toward him they require signs (v.38) and fail to see that one greater than Jonah and Solomon has come. Luke 11:23 does not mean that Matthew 12:43–45 and Luke 11:24–26 refer to individual demon-possession in contrast to the national rejection of Jesus Messiah portrayed in Matthew. On the contrary, both evangelists deal with the same issue, namely, the extreme danger of being neutral toward Jesus (see

43“When an evil spirit comes out of a man, it goes through arid places seeking rest and does not find it. 44Then it says, ‘I will return to the house I left.’ When it arrives, it finds the house unoccupied, swept clean and put in order. 45Then it goes and takes with it seven other spirits more wicked than itself, and they go in and live there. And the final condition of that man is worse than the first. That is how it will be with this wicked generation.”

COMMENTARY

43 When an evil spirit (see

;

) leaves a man (lit., “the man,” but the article presents a typical case), it goes “through arid places” in search of rest. This conforms to the view that demons have an affinity for such places (Tob 8:3; cf. Rev 18:2). Ultimately, however, they seek another body in order to do even more harm.

44 Verse 43 implies the possibility of repossession. While v.44 may be theoretically interpreted as a universal fact of experience, that would make Jesus’ exorcisms an invitation to catastrophe. So it is better to take the language of the text as a Semitic paratactic conditional protasis to v.45 (i.e., “If the demon on his arrival finds the house unoccupied, etc.”; cf. H. S. Nyberg, “Zum grammatischen Verständnis von Matth. 12:44f.,” ConBNT 13 [1949]: 1–11; Jeremias, Parables of Jesus, 197–98) or to take the details of the story as representing a dangerous contingency (Beyer, Semitische Syntax, 281–86).

45 Though the seven evil spirits may have been harder to drive out than just one (cf. Mk 5:9; 9:29), the text mentions only their greater wickedness. The man from whom the demon had been driven out is now in a far worse condition than before. Jesus’ final statement in this pericope—“That is how it will be with this wicked generation” (omitted by Luke)—does not change the point of the story from one of demon-possession to the nation’s failure to recognize Jesus, for both Matthew and Luke understand the story to demand recognition of Jesus Messiah. But what Matthew adds (1) closes off the main part of the pericope by referring again to “this wicked generation” (cf. v.39)—a common but overlooked Matthean device (see

)—and (2) makes the warning less cryptic than Luke (cf. v.40; Lk 11:30). Though Luke knows the danger into which the Jews’ rejection of Jesus (Lk 21:20–24) will place them, this is not for him, as it is for Matthew, a major theme.

OVERVIEW

Here Matthew basically follows Mark 3:31–35 (cf. Lk 8:19–21; Jn 7:3–5), though he omits the background in Mark 3:20–21. As a result, these verses are not so much a confrontation between Jesus and his family as a statement about what it really means to be a disciple of Jesus and to be totally committed to him. The way for us to be as close to Jesus as his nearest and dearest is to do the will of his Father.

46While Jesus was still talking to the crowd, his mother and brothers stood outside, wanting to speak to him. 47Someone told him, “Your mother and brothers are standing outside, wanting to speak to you.”

48He replied to him, “Who is my mother, and who are my brothers?” 49Pointing to his disciples, he said, “Here are my mother and my brothers. 50For whoever does the will of my Father in heaven is my brother and sister and mother.”

COMMENTARY

46–47 The obvious implication is that Jesus is inside the house (cf. Mk 3:20, 31). Though v.47 is omitted in many MSS, probably by homoeoteleuton (words, clauses, or sentences with similar endings being dropped by oversight; both v.46 and v.47 end in lalēsai [“to speak”]), it was likely in the original text and clearly helps the sense of the pericope. While the verse might represent assimilation to Mark 3:32, this would not explain tō legonti autō (“to the one who had spoken to him,” omitted from v.48 in the NIV), which presupposes v.47.

In Mark’s account, a reason is given as to why Mary and Jesus’ brothers were trying to see him: they were concerned because the press of the crowd was so great that Jesus was not finding time and space even to eat (3:20–21). In that context, Jesus’ insistence that his disciples constitute his true family members might be taken to stem, in part, from Jesus’ insistence that his family did not have the right to interfere with his God-given mission. Because Matthew’s account, typically shorter than that of Mark, does not mention his family’s concern, Jesus’ comment about which people constitute his true family appears even sharper, though the main point is unchanged. Rather remarkably, David Sim (Gospel of Matthew, 191–92) thinks Matthew’s account actually rehabilitates James and the natural family of Jesus by including his disciples “within his natural family” (emphasis added). It is hard to see why he draws this inference. The only argument he advances is that Mary is presented favorably in Matthew’s birth narratives. Even this judgment is misplaced. Compared with Luke’s account, Matthew’s birth narratives are not much interested in Mary.

The most natural way to understand “brothers” is that the term refers to sons of Mary and Joseph and thus to brothers of Jesus on his mother’s side. To support the dogma of Mary’s perpetual virginity, a notion foreign to the NT and to the earliest church fathers, Roman Catholic scholars have suggested that “brothers” refers either to Joseph’s sons by an earlier marriage or to sons of Mary’s sister, who had the same name (cf. McHugh, Mother of Jesus, 200ff.). Certainly “brothers” can have a wider meaning than male relatives (Ac 22:1); yet it is very doubtful whether such a meaning is valid here, for it raises insuperable problems. For instance, if “brothers” refers to Joseph’s sons by an earlier marriage, not Jesus but Joseph’s firstborn would have been legal heir to David’s throne. The second theory—that “brothers” refers to sons of a sister of Mary also named “Mary”—faces the unlikelihood of two sisters having the same name. All things considered, the attempts to extend the meaning of “brothers” in this pericope, despite McHugh’s best efforts, are nothing less than far-fetched exegesis in support of a dogma that originated much later than the NT (see

; cf. Lk 2:7; see Broadus on 13:55–56).

48–50 Jesus’ searching question (v.48) and its remarkable answer (vv.49–50) in no way diminish his mother and brothers but simply give the priority to his Father and doing his will. “For, had [Christ] not entered into earthly kinship solely for the sake of the higher spiritual relationship which He was about to found ...? Thus, it was not that Christ set lightly by His Mother, but that He confounded not the means with the end” (Edersheim, Life and Times, 1:577). Henceforth the disciples are the only “family” Jesus recognizes.

The metaphorical nature of v.49 is shown by the “ands” (v.50): “my brother and sister [Jesus had physical sisters; cf. 13:56] and mother” instead of “ ... or ... or.” We do not make ourselves Jesus’ close relatives by doing the will of his heavenly Father. Rather, doing the Father’s will identifies us as his mother and sisters and brothers (cf. 7:21). The doing of that will turns on obedience to Jesus and his teaching, according to Matthew, for it was Jesus who preeminently revealed the will of the Father (cf. 11:27). This means that Jesus’ words in this pericope are full of christological implications, but they also establish the basic importance of the community now beginning to form around him, God’s chosen Servant, who, despite rising opposition, will lead justice to victory (vv.18, 20).

1That same day Jesus went out of the house and sat by the lake. 2Such large crowds gathered around him that he got into a boat and sat in it, while all the people stood on the shore. 3Then he told them many things in parables, saying:

COMMENTARY

1 Matthew links the parabolic discourse in ch. 13 to the preceding controversies (either 12:38–50 or 12:22–37) and ends it with a formulaic conclusion (13:53), which implies that all these parables were given on this occasion. The statement “Jesus went out of the house” implies the same thing by setting a specific scene carried forward by 13:36.

Jesus “sat by the lake,” taking the normal position of a teacher (see

). The explanation that Jesus’ posture was a symbol drawn from apocalyptic literature representing God’s sitting in judgment (cf. Rev 7:12; Kingsbury, Parables of Jesus, 23–24) is not only overly subtle and needlessly anachronistic but misunderstands the parables. Although in some parables Jesus portrayed himself as the Judge coming at the end of the age (esp. vv.40–43), such a judicial session is future. During his ministry Jesus’ chosen role was that of a teacher who taught others about the kingdom so that they might teach others (see

2 This is the only one of the five major discourses in Matthew that is addressed not to the “disciples” (in the broad sense of 5:1–2) but to the crowds. Therefore, Matthew includes in it two major digressions (vv.10–23, 36–43), in which Jesus explained to his disciples the significance of parables and interpreted two of them. While these digressions doubtless took place after the public discourse, Matthew moves them back as parentheses so that the significance of the parables will not be lost to the reader. Some scholars contend that the crowds, unlike the Jewish leaders, are portrayed favorably, since they are the group Matthew wants immediately to reach. But that is far-fetched. In Matthew, Jesus has already criticized “this generation” (11:16–24) and can treat the Jewish leaders as typical of it (12:38–39). Here the crowds are not given “the secrets of the kingdom” (v.11).

Matthew changes Mark’s “taught” (Mk 4:2) to “told” (v.3a)—a change that has encouraged many to suppose that he is turning the parables into “proclamation narratives” (e.g., W. Wilkens, “Die Redaktion des Gleichniskapitels Mark 4 durch Matth.,” TZ 20 [1964]: 305–27). On the other hand, Kingsbury (Parables of Jesus, 28–31) holds that the change from “taught” to “told” owes everything to the structure of Matthew’s gospel. After Matthew 12 Jesus never teaches or preaches to the Jews. So Matthew looks on this chapter as a sort of “apology.” To base such large theological implications on the change of a single verb is not convincing, because Matthew often shows considerable independence in verbal expression. What he understands Jesus to be doing in the parables must be based on the exegesis of the whole chapter, and especially on that of vv.10–17, which purports to answer that very question. Kingsbury’s view that Jesus does not teach or preach to the crowd after Matthew 12 is, in any case, manifestly wrong. Little of such teaching occurs before Matthew 12; most references to it are general (e.g., 4:23; 9:35). After Matthew 12 we find similar remarks (13:54; 15:10; 21:23; cf. 22:16; 26:55; and implicitly 14:13–36; 15:29–31). These and similar reconstructions attempt to see in the antithesis between the “crowds” and the “disciples” a covert disjunction between the church and the synagogue. J. Dupont (“Le point de vue,” 221–59) analyzes these efforts in detail and shows that the language is simply not specific enough to draw such far-reaching conclusions. In particular, he shows that the disciples-crowds contrast relates to what is just or unjust and with either doing or not doing the will of the Father.

3a Jesus told the crowd “many things in parables.” Before we examine them, however, three comments are necessary.

1. The history of the interpretation of parables is complex, and the number of new developments in parable scholarship has accelerated in recent years. This has been set forth concisely by J. G. Little (“Parable Research in the Twentieth Century,” ExpTim 87 [1975–76]: 356–60; ExpTim 88 [1976–77]: 40–44, 71–75) and comprehensively by W. S. Kissinger (The Parables of Jesus: A History of Interpretation and Bibliography [Metuchen, N.J.: Scarecrow, 1979]), and more recently by Craig Blomberg (Interpreting the Parables [Downers Grove, Ill.: InterVarsity, 1990]) and Klyne Snodgrass (Stories with Intent: A Comprehensive Guide to the Parables of Jesus [Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2008]).

Commentators tended to interpret the parables more or less by appeal to allegory (with notable exceptions such as Augustine and, to a lesser extent, Calvin) until Adolph Julicher’s huge study (Die Gleichnisreden Jesu [2 vols.; Tübingen: Mohr, 1910]), which contends that Jesus told not allegories but parables—simple stories with a single point. Traces of allegorical interpretation of parables in the Gospels must therefore be assigned to the postapostolic church. Studies by Dodd (Parables of the Kingdom) and Jeremias (Parables of Jesus) have proceeded along similar lines. Dodd has tried to show that some parables demonstrate the eschatological orientation of Jesus’ preaching and the “presentness” of the kingdom, while Jeremias has established “laws” of parable transmission to determine how Jesus’ simple stories were progressively changed in the process of oral and written retelling and application. Using these “laws,” Jeremias has argued that we can strip off later accretions and discover what the historical Jesus really taught.

Two essays challenge Jeremias’s view. Both Matthew Black (“The Parables as Allegory,” BJRL 42 [1959–60]: 273–87) and Raymond E. Brown (“Parable and Allegory Reconsidered,” NovT 5 [1962]: 36–45) convincingly demonstrate that the allegory-parable distinction is too facile, that Jesus himself occasionally derived more than one or two points from certain of his parables, and that all “allegorizing” of the parables cannot be automatically assigned to the postapostolic church. Two things follow: (1) what Jeremias calls allegorization does not by itself prove secondary accretion; (2) as McNeile, 186, observed long ago, a certain unavoidable ambiguity is built into the parables, for it is not always easy to distinguish illustrative details and details that are merely part of the story structure. While there is room for difference of opinion here, the slight loss in certainty of meaning is more than compensated for by the greater flexibility in understanding the parables.

Parable scholarship moved in a more productive direction with the publication of Hans Weder’s Die Gleichnisse Jesu als Metaphern [Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1978], 69–75). Weder distinguishes parabolic (as opposed to allegorical) elements as those tied to the narrative flow and lacking independent existence both in the narrative and its interpretation. His work largely follows the studies of Eta Linnemann (Parables of Jesus [London: SPCK, 1966]), D. O. Via (Parables), and J. D. Crossan (In Parables [New York: Harper, 1973]), who say that what distinguishes parable from allegory is not that only the former has one central point but that the former alone ties all its elements to one another within the parable’s framework. These interconnections are determined not so much by a one-to-one link with the historical or theological situation to which the parable refers as by the demands of the story—namely, the parable itself. Therefore, some parabolic elements may have a historical referent, others none. But where such “outside” connections are made, they are subsidiary to the connections “inside” the parable, the point of which is contained within the story’s internal movement.

These are important insights. Reflection on such distinctions might make some commentators, who rightly see that some narrative parables cannot be reduced to one central meaning, refrain from labeling the additional points “allegorical,” since that term in modern usage tends to call to mind not merely what is symbolic but what is laden with symbolism extraneous to the narrative. On the other hand, some of those who have developed important insights as to how the subsidiary points are tightly tied to the central narrative unfortunately tend to think deeply on the literary level but naively on the historical one. Many recent interpreters tend to be far less conservative than Jeremias in what they ascribe to the historical Jesus. And it is astonishing how often, once they have finished their interpretations, they exhort their readers to choose authentic existence, trust the benevolence of the universe, or the like. Whatever else Jesus was, he was no twentieth-century existentialist or a twenty-first-century student of narrative. Coupling these literary studies with insights from “the new hermeneutic,” Mary Ann Tolbert (Perspectives on the Parables: An Approach to Multiple Interpretations [Philadelphia: Fortress, 1979]) tries to establish the legitimacy of interpreting the parables in different ways that depend largely on the stance of the interpreter, and she argues that the parables’ “dynamic indeterminacy” (115) requires such an approach. Questions raised by such studies (and the German works on which many of them are based) cannot be handled here. For a responsible treatment of the issues involved, see A. C. Thiselton, The Two Horizons (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1980). Those interested in charting how contemporary interpretation of parables has responded not only to hermeneutical trends but to powerful historical events might usefully read Tania Oldenhage, Parables for Our Time: Rereading New Testament Scholarship after the Holocaust (New York: Oxford Univ. Press, 2002). Over against such trends are those that try to tie the interpretation of any parable to the context of Jesus and/or of Matthew—to the cultural and social context of Jesus, for instance (e.g., Bailey, Jesus Through Middle Eastern Eyes), or to the particular audiences that Matthew specifies (e.g., Carter and Heil, Matthew’s Parables).

Suffice it to say that historical doubts are not always tied as intimately to the genuine literary insights of these writers as they seem to think. Jesus, though he did indeed confront people and demand existential choices, did so within a message that was, and can still be, defined and defended propositionally. Moreover, the criteria for distinguishing between Jesus’ parables and church accretions to them are becoming less and less justifiable. Although there are many kinds of parables (see below), Thiselton (Two Horizons, 12–15, 344–47) is right in pointing out how many of them are designed to capture the listener and make him a participant, overturning his worldview and leading him to call in question his most basic values. These convictions undergird the following exposition.

2. Some areas of disagreement might be eliminated if more attention were paid to the word “parable” itself (parabolē, GK 4130). Behind it stands the Hebrew māšāl (GK 5442; twenty-eight of thirty-three instances in the OT are rendered parabolē in the LXX), a word referring to proverbs, maxims, similes, allegories, fables, comparisons, riddles, taunts, stories embodying some truth (Nu 23:7, 18; 1Sa 10:12; 24:13; Job 27:1; Pss 49:4; 78:2; Pr 1:6; Ecc 12:9; Isa 14:4; Eze 12:22; 17:2; 24:3; Mic 2:4; Hab 2:6). And parabolē in the NT comes close to duplicating this range (cf. NIDNTT, 2:743–60). Thus a parable can be a proverb (Lk 4:23; something John calls a paroimia [GK 4231, “figure of speech,” Jn 10:6; 16:25, 29; cf. Job 27:1 LXX]); a profound or obscure saying (Mt 13:35); a nonverbal symbol or image (Heb 9:9; 11:19); an illustrative comparison, whether without the form of a story (15:15; 24:32) or with (in the most familiar kind of “parable”—e.g., 13:3–9); an illustrative story not involving comparison of unlikes (e.g., the rich fool, Lk 12:16–21); and more. So it becomes obvious that much learned discussion actually focuses on only one or two kinds of NT “parables.” Most, though not all, parables are extended metaphors or similes. Yet even so broad a definition as this eliminates some of the material listed above that NT writers label “parable.” Most generalized conclusions about parables require painful exceptions, and, on the whole, it is best to deal inductively with parables while at the same time being aware of the questions posed by recent studies and the scholarly analyses of some parable material.

One of the most responsible of these is Boucher’s work (Mysterious Parable), some of whose conclusions are adopted later (see

). But even Boucher narrows down parable to “a narrative having two levels of meaning” (p. 23) and confusingly defines allegory as merely “a device of meaning, and not in itself a literary form or genre” (p. 20), while insisting that allegory must extend a metaphor over a whole story, thus tying it inescapably to a form. By this definition some parables are allegories. Yet it is useful, for instance, to be able to distinguish allegories that are types from those that are not. Progress in understanding parables depends, it seems, on greater scholarly agreement over the semantics of the labels and on greater willingness to recognize the diversity of kinds of parables in the NT (cf. G. B. Caird, The Language and Imagery of the Bible [London: Duckworth, 1980], 161–67; Robert H. Stein, The Method and Message of Jesus’ Teachings [Philadelphia: Westminster, 1978], 34–39.)

3. The structure of the third discourse (13:3–52) bears directly on its interpretation. Certain things are obvious. Two of the parables are also found in Mark and Luke—the sower and its interpretation (13:3–9, 18–23; Mk 4:3–9, 13–20; Lk 8:5–15) and the mustard seed (13:31–32; Mk 4:30–32; Lk 13:18–19). One is paralleled in Luke but not Mark (the yeast [13:33; Lk 13:20–21]), and the other four (or five; see below) are found only in Matthew. Mark 4:26–29 adds still another to this discourse, and both Mark 4:33 and Matthew 13:3 suggest there was a great deal more left unreported. For a useful survey of the themes developed by the parables in this chapter, see Carter and Heil, Matthew’s Parables, 53–58.

These are the agreed-on facts, but the structure of the discourse as it stands is more disputed (cf. Dupont, “Le point de vue,” 231–32; Kingsbury, Parables of Jesus, 12–15). The best analysis has been provided by David Wenham (“Structure of Matthew XIII,” 516–22), who argues, with Lohmeyer and Kingsbury (Parables of Jesus), that v.52 is a parable (note the form “is like [plus dative]” and the opening words of v.53). The discourse may then be broken down into two parts of four parables each (vv.3–33, 44–52). The first four are addressed to the crowds, the last four to the disciples. Wenham’s distinctive contribution lies in identifying the emergent chiastic structure. Of the first four parables, the first stands apart from the other three, separated by discussion about the purpose of parables (vv.10–17) and the interpretation of the parable (vv.18–23). It has a formally different introduction (the other three begin “Jesus told them another parable, ‘The kingdom of heaven is like ...’”). The matching chiastic four in the second half begin with three parables with the same opening (“The kingdom of heaven is like ...”), separated from the fourth, which has a different beginning, by the explanation in vv.49–50 and the question and answer about the disciples’ understanding of parables. The central section separating the two sets of parables (vv.34–43) divides the chiasm and further explains the function of parables while expounding one of them (see , p. 80).

The implications are important.

1. Matthew reports two rationales for parables, one related to their function for outsiders and one related to their function for disciples.

2. The detailed structure reveals Matthew’s skill as an author, and the alleged dislocations (esp. vv.12, 34–35), often taken to support Markan priority, turn out to be, not aporias (i.e., breaks that demand explanation), but integral parts of the outline (see below). This does not, of course, disprove Mark’s priority here, but if Matthew is indeed prior or independent for all or part of this chapter (as Wenham argues in “Synoptic Problem Revisited”), it supports an important point, namely, that it is methodologically doubtful to think that the only access to information Matthew has when following Mark is Mark itself.

3. This structure also calls in question the traditional dispensational interpretation of the parables in this chapter. Typical is Walvoord’s perspective (96–97, quoting Tasker, 134–35):

“Jesus deliberately adopted the parabolic method of teaching at a particular stage in his ministry for the purpose of withholding further truth about himself and the kingdom of heaven from the crowds, who had proved themselves to be deaf to his claims and irresponsive to his demands.... From now onwards, when addressing the unbelieving multitude, he speaks only in parables, which he interprets to his disciples in private.”

There is insight here. Walvoord rightly detects the note of judgment bound up with some parables. His position, however, is too cut-and-dried. First, remembering the broad definition of “parables” in the NT, it is doubtful we are to think that ch. 13 contains Jesus’ first use of parables in Matthew (cf. 7:24–27; 9:15–17; 11:16–19). Second, if Walvoord were to respond that such passages are not labeled “parables,” the historical problem recurs when any synoptic harmony is attempted (a procedure he would approve). Historically Jesus does not use parables for the first time at this stage in his ministry (cf. Lk 5:36; 6:39). What does seem likely is that rising opposition to Jesus encouraged his greater and greater use of parables (see

). But there is little ground for the sudden switch in method Walvoord sees. Third, parables are not restricted to Jesus’ ministry to outsiders. He also uses them positively for his disciples (see comments above). Fourth, there has been no extensive teaching to outsiders before this third discourse and none after it to test Walvoord’s claim that Jesus’ use of parables is a new departure here. We have only the fact that Jesus’ preaching to outsiders is repeatedly mentioned but no extended samples of it (see

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