(4) The parable of the wedding banquet (22:1–14)

OVERVIEW

On the dangers and difficulties of constructing detailed outlines, see

. Yet, certain themes in these chapters (19:3–26:5) are crystallized. The opposition to Jesus becomes more heated and focused; the stances of Jesus and the Jewish leaders become more irreconcilable. Jesus not only reveals more of himself and his mission to his disciples but centers more attention on the end, the ultimate eschatological hope, the consummation of the kingdom. Within these two poles, opposition and eschatology, the grace of God toward those under the kingdom becomes an increasingly dominant theme. Without ever using the word “grace,” Matthew returns to this theme repeatedly (e.g., 19:21–22; 20:1–16). But grace does not mean there is no judgment (23:1–39). Rather, it means that despite the gross rejection of Jesus; the chronic unbelief of opponents, crowds, and disciples alike; and the judgment that threatens both within history and at the end, grace triumphs and calls out a messianic people who bow to Jesus’ lordship and eagerly await his return.

By and large, 19:3–26:5 follows the structure of Mark; but there are substantial additions (20:1–16; 21:28–32; 22:1–14), expansions (esp. 23:1–39; cf. Mk 12:38–44), alterations (esp. Mt 21:10–17), and additional parables in the Olivet Discourse (ch. 25).

OVERVIEW

For three reasons the first pericope in this section of Matthew has called forth an enormous quantity of comment and exposition: (1) It deals with a perennially burning pastoral issue in society and in the church; (2) it includes some notoriously difficult words and phrases (see esp. v.9); and (3) its relation to the parallel in Mark 10:2–12 is hotly disputed. Only some of these issues can be directly addressed here. (For the cultural background to marriage in the Bible, see Keener; Edwin M. Yamauchi, “Cultural Aspects of Marriage in the Ancient World,” BS 135 [1978]: 241–52; Michael L. Satlow, Jewish Marriage in Antiquity [Princeton: Princeton Univ. Press, 2001].)

3Some Pharisees came to him to test him. They asked, “Is it lawful for a man to divorce his wife for any and every reason?”

4“Haven’t you read,” he replied, “that at the beginning the Creator ‘made them male and female,’ 5and said, ‘For this reason a man will leave his father and mother and be united to his wife, and the two will become one flesh’? 6So they are no longer two, but one. Therefore what God has joined together, let man not separate.”

7“Why then,” they asked, “did Moses command that a man give his wife a certificate of divorce and send her away?”

8Jesus replied, “Moses permitted you to divorce your wives because your hearts were hard. But it was not this way from the beginning. 9I tell you that anyone who divorces his wife, except for marital unfaithfulness, and marries another woman commits adultery.”

10The disciples said to him, “If this is the situation between a husband and wife, it is better not to marry.”

11Jesus replied, “Not everyone can accept this word, but only those to whom it has been given. 12For some are eunuchs because they were born that way; others were made that way by men; and others have renounced marriage because of the kingdom of heaven. The one who can accept this should accept it.”

COMMENTARY

3 Pharisees (see

) are often found in Matthew’s gospel testing or opposing Jesus in some way (12:2, 14, 24, 38; 15:1; 16:1; 19:3; 22:15, 34–35). Their “test,” here, was probably delivered in the hope that Jesus would say something to damage his reputation with the people or even seem to contradict Moses. Perhaps, too, they hoped that Jesus would say something that would entangle him in the Herod-Herodias affair so that he might meet the Baptist’s fate. Machaerus was not far away (see

The question whether it is right for a man to divorce his wife “for any and every reason” (the NIV has rightly rendered a difficult phrase; cf. Turner, Insights, 61) hides an enormous diversity of Jewish opinion. Among the Qumran covenanters, divorce was judged illicit under all circumstances (CD 4:21; esp. 11QT^a 57:17–19; see J. R. Mueller, “The Temple Scroll and the Gospel Divorce Texts,” RevQ 38 [1980]: 247ff.).

In mainstream Palestinian Judaism, opinion was divided roughly into two opposing camps. Both the school of Hillel and the school of Shammai permitted divorce (of the woman by the man; the reverse was not considered) on the grounds of ʿerwat dābār (“something indecent,” Dt 24:1), but they disagreed on what “indecent” might include. Shammai and his followers interpreted the expression to refer to gross indecency, though not necessarily adultery; Hillel extended the meaning beyond sin to all kinds of real or imagined offenses, including an improperly cooked meal. The Hillelite R. Akiba permitted divorce in the case of a roving eye for prettier women (m. Giṭ. 9:10).

On any understanding of what Jesus says in the following verses, he agrees with neither Shammai nor Hillel. Even though the school of Shammai was stricter than Hillel, it permitted remarriage when the divorce was not in accordance with its own halakah (rules of conduct) (m. ʿEd. 4:7–10), and if Jesus restricts grounds for divorce to sexual indecency (see

), then he differs fundamentally from Shammai. Jesus cuts his own swath in these verses, as Sigal (Halakhah of Jesus, 104ff.) rightly points out, and he does so in an age when in many Pharisaic circles “the frequency of divorce was ... an open scandal” (Hill). Josephus, for instance, himself a divorcé, was a Pharisee; and in his view divorce was permitted “for any causes whatsoever” (Josephus, Ant. 4.253 [8.23]).

Thus the setting of the divorce question in this pericope is different from 5:31–32. There divorce is set in a discourse that gives the norms of the kingdom and the sanctity of marriage; here it is set in a theological disputation that raises the question of what divorces are allowed. For a helpful chart comparing the two passages, see David Turner’s commentary.

4–6 Jesus aligns himself with the prophet Malachi, who quotes Yahweh as saying, “I hate divorce” (2:16), and also refers to creation (2:14–15). Jesus cites first Genesis 1:27 and then Genesis 2:24. The Creator made the race “male and female” (v.4). The implication is that the two sexes should be united in marriage. But lest the implication be missed, the Creator then said that “for this reason” (v.5)—because God made them so—a man will leave father and mother, be united to his wife, and become one flesh (cf. Sir 25:26; Eph 5:28–31).

The words “for this reason” in Genesis 2:24 refer to Adam’s perception that the woman was “bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh” because she had been made from him and for him—i.e., the man and the woman were in the deepest sense “related.” The same thing is implied by Genesis 1:27—i.e., the “one flesh” in every marriage between a man and a woman is a reenactment of and testimony to the very structure of humanity as God created it.

“So” (hōste here is “simply an inferential particle” [Moule, Idiom Book, 144]), Jesus concludes, the husband and wife are no longer two but one, and that by God’s doing (v.6). If God has joined them together, according to the structure of his own creation, divorce is not only “unnatural” but rebellion against God. God and man are so far apart on this issue that what God unites, man divides.

Jesus’ response cuts through a great deal of casuistry and sets forth a dominant perspective that must not be lost in the exegetical tangles of v.9. Two profound insights must be grasped.

1. Although Jewish leaders tended to analyze adultery in terms not of infidelity to one’s spouse but of taking someone else’s wife (cf. m. Ketub. and m. Qidd.), Jesus dealt with the sanctity of marriage by focusing on the God-ordained unity of the couple.

2. Jesus essentially appealed to the principle, “The more original, the weightier,” an accepted form of argument in Jewish exegesis (cf. Paul in Gal 3:15–18), and it is impossible to go further back than creation for the responsibilities of mankind. If marriage is grounded in creation, in the way God has made us, then it cannot be reduced to a merely covenantal relationship that breaks down when the covenantal promises are broken (contra David Atkinson, To Have and to Hold: The Marriage Covenant and the Discipline of Divorce [London: Collins, 1979], 114ff.). But the argument in this instance leaves unanswered the question of how the Mosaic law is to be taken, and therefore the stage is set for the Pharisees’ next question.

7–8 The Pharisees refer to Deuteronomy 24:1–4, which they interpret to mean something like this: “If a man takes a wife ... and she does not find favor in his eyes ... he shall write a bill of divorce ... and shall send her away from his house” (so also Vul.). But the Hebrew more naturally means something like this: “If a man takes a wife ... and she does not find favor in his eyes ... and he writes a bill of divorce ... and he sends her away from his house ... and her second husband does the same thing, then her first husband must not marry her again” (presumably because that would be a kind of incest; cf. Zerwick, Biblical Greek, para. 458; G. J. Wenham, “The Restoration of Marriage Reconsidered,” JJS 30 [1979]: 36–40). In other words, Moses did not command divorce but permitted it for ʿerwat dābār (“something indecent”); and the text is less concerned with explaining the nature of that indecency (the precise expression is found in only one other place in the OT: Dt 23:14, with reference to human excrement) than with prohibiting remarriage of the twice-divorced woman to her first husband. Divorce and remarriage are therefore presupposed by Moses; i.e., he “permitted” them (v.8).

The general thrust of Mark 10:2–9 is the same as in Matthew 19:3–8. But there (1) the Pharisees ask their test question without “for any and every reason”; (2) Jesus mentions Moses’ command; (3) the Pharisees reply in terms of what Moses permitted; and (4) only then does Jesus offer his basic perspective in terms of the creation ordinance. The net effect of the two passages this far is the same. But it is not easy to reconstruct the historical details. Matthew seems more concerned about the thrust of the exchange than about who said what first.

Both Matthew and Mark show that Jesus taught that Moses’ concession reflected not the true creation ordinance but the hardness of men’s hearts. Divorce is not part of the Creator’s perfect design. If Moses permitted it, he did so because sin can be so vile that divorce is to be preferred to continued “indecency.” This is not to say that the person who, according to what Moses said, divorced his spouse was actually committing sin in so doing; but the fact that divorce could even be considered testified that there had already been sin in the marriage. Therefore, any view of divorce and remarriage (taught in either Testament) that sees the problem only in terms of what may or may not be done has already overlooked a basic fact: divorce is never to be thought of as a God-ordained, morally neutral option but as evidence of sin, of hardness of heart. The fundamental attitude of the Pharisees to the question was wrong.

It should be noted also that Jesus, when speaking of the sin of the people, invariably refers to their sin or your sin, never our sin (cf. 6:14–15).

But what was the “indecency” in Moses’ day that allowed for divorce? “Something indecent” could not be equated with adultery, for the normal punishment for that was death, not divorce (Dt 22:22)—though it is not at all clear that the death penalty was in fact regularly imposed for adultery (cf. Henry McKeating, “Sanctions against Adultery in Ancient Israelite Society,” JSOT 11 [1979]: 57–72). Nor could the indecency be suspicion of adultery, for which the prescribed procedure was the bitter-water rite (Nu 5:11–31). Yet the indecency must have been shocking. Ancient Israel took marriage seriously. The best assumption is that the indecency was any lewd, immoral behavior, sometimes including, but not restricted to, adultery—e.g., homosexuality or sexual misconduct that fell short of intercourse.

9 Four problems contribute to the difficulty of understanding this verse. The first is textual. The “except” clause appears in several forms, doubtless owing to assimilation to 5:32, but there can be no doubt that an “except” clause is original. Though some MSS add a few more words (e.g., “and the divorcée who marries another commits adultery”), the diversity of the MS additions and the likelihood of assimilation to 5:32, not to mention the weight of external evidence, support the shorter text (cf. Metzger, Textual Commentary, 47–48).

The second problem concerns the meaning of porneia (NIV, “marital unfaithfulness,” GK 4518; KJV, “fornication”). H. Baltensweiler (Die Ehe im Neuen Testament [Zurich: Zwingli, 1967], 93) thinks that it refers to marriage within prohibited degrees (Lev 18), i.e., to incest. Many others, especially Roman Catholic scholars, have defended that view in some detail (cf. J. A. Fitzmyer, “The Matthean Divorce Texts and Some New Palestinian Evidence,” TS 37 [1976]: 208–11). Appeal is often made to 1 Corinthians 5:1, where “a man has his father’s wife” (his stepmother). But it should be noted that even here Paul gives no indication he is dealing with an incestuous marriage but only an incestuous affair. It is very doubtful whether Paul or any other Jew would have regarded an incestuous relationship as marriage: Paul would not have told the couple to get a divorce but to stop what they were doing. And in the next chapter, Paul uses the same word (porneia) to describe prostitution (1Co 6:13, 16).

Others have argued that porneia refers to premarital unchastity (A. Isaksson, Marriage and Ministry in the New Testament [Lund: Gleerup, 1965], 135ff.; Mark Geldard, “Jesus’ Teaching on Divorce,” Churchman 92 [1978]: 134–43); if a man discovers his bride is not a virgin, he may divorce her. This has the advantage (it is argued) of being no real exception to Jesus’ prohibition of divorce, making it easier to reconcile Matthew and Mark, who omits the “except” clause. Moreover, it provides a neat background for the disciples’ shock (v.10), for if porneia refers to every sexual sin, Jesus is saying no more than what many rabbis taught. The latter objection is best treated at v.10. The former is a possible way of reconciling Matthew and Mark, but there are many other possibilities; and there is no reason to adopt this one if porneia is being squeezed into too narrow a semantic range.

Still others hold that porneia here means “adultery,” no more and no less (e.g., T. V. Fleming, “Christ and Divorce,” TS 24 [1963]: 109). Certainly the word can include that meaning (Jer 3:8–9 LXX; cf. Sir 23:23). Yet, in Greek the normal word for adultery is moicheia (GK 3657). Matthew has already used moicheia and porneia in the same context (15:19), suggesting some distinction between the words, even if there is considerable overlap. A. Mahoney (“A New Look at the Divorce Clauses in Mt 5:32 and 19:9,” CBQ 30 [1968]: 29–38) suggests porneia refers to spiritual harlotry, a metaphor often adopted by the OT prophets. Jesus then prohibits divorce except where one spouse is not a Christian. But it is almost impossible to conceive how such a response, couched in such language, could have any relevance (let alone intelligibility) to the disputants here. Moreover, Paul knows no dominical word on the subject of mixed marriages (1Co 7:12), and the answer he provides (1Co 7:12–16) seems somewhat stricter.

The reason these and many other creative suggestions have been advanced lies in the difficulty of the verse as a whole, both in its immediate context and as a parallel to Mark-Luke. But it must be admitted that the word porneia itself is very broad. In unambiguous contexts, it can on occasion refer to a specific kind of sexual sin. Yet even then, this is possible only because the specific sexual sin belongs to the larger category of sexual immorality. Porneia covers the entire range of such sins (cf. TDNT, 6:579–95; BDAG, 854; Joseph Jensen, “Does Porneia Mean Fornication? A Critique of Bruce Malina,” NovT 20 [1978]: 161–84) and should not be restricted unless the context requires it.

The third problem is why Matthew alone of the Synoptic Gospels includes the “except” clause, and the fourth is just what that clause means. These may be handled together. Proposed solutions are legion, but there are eight important ones.

1. Some hold that the except clause here and in 5:32 is really no exception at all. The preposition epi plus the dative can have the sense of addition: “in addition to” or even “apart from” (cf. Lk 3:20; Col 3:14; Zerwick, Biblical Greek, para. 128). In this verse, the words should be rendered “not apart from sexual promiscuity,” and similar reasoning applies to the slightly different construction in 5:31: “whoever repudiates his wife, in addition to the porneia [for which he repudiates her], causes her to be defiled by adultery.” There is then no exception to Jesus’ prohibition of divorce as reported in Mark-Luke. But all this requires almost impossible Greek. When epi has this “additive” force, it is nowhere preceded by mē (“not”), which most naturally introduces an exception. Dupont (Mariage et divorce, 102–6) has clearly shown that a real exception is meant.

2. A number of commentators hold that Matthew has simply taken over Mark’s pericope but liberalized it. The absolute prohibition was no longer possible in the Matthean church, and so the except clause was introduced (so David R. Catchpole, “The Synoptic Divorce Material as a Traditio-Historical Problem,” BJRL 57 [1974–75]: 92–127; R. H. Stein, “Is It Harmful for a Man to Divorce His Wife?” JETS 22 [1979]: 115–21; idem, Mark [BECNT 2; Grand Rapids: Baker, 2008]). The particular reason for adding the exception is variously put: (1) Jesus’ absolute prohibition was meant to be only a guideline, which the evangelists felt free to adapt—after all, “Jesus was not a legalist” (Stein); (2) Matthew felt it necessary to align Jesus with the school of Shammai in the context of rabbinic debates in his day (Bornkamm, “End-Expectation and the Church,” 25–26); and (3) porneia refers to incestuous marriages, not uncommon among Gentiles, so Matthew added the except clause because an increasing number of Gentile converts were entering his predominantly Jewish church, and Jesus’ prohibition of divorce must not be thought to apply to their illicit marriages (Mahoney, “New Look”; cf. Benoit, Bonnard).

But all these views have serious problems.

a. There is serious debate about whether Matthew has actually added something to the tradition or whether he is independent of Mark at this point.

b. To stigmatize an absolute prohibition by suggesting it would make Jesus a “legalist” is to beg a number of questions. Could not any absolute prohibition be subjected to the same cavalier labeling? The word “legalist” is a loaded word that can refer either to someone who sets up absolutes or to someone who thinks he is accepted by God on the basis of his obedience. In the first sense, Jesus is a “legalist” (e.g., 22:37–38); in the second sense, he is not. But only the first sense is relevant to this verse.

c. It is not clear why Matthew would feel it necessary to align his gospel with a particular rabbinic school that, as he knew, already existed in Jesus’ day. There is no new situation, in this respect, in AD 85.

d. The new situation suggested by Mahoney (“New Look”) is not very plausible because it requires an unnatural reading of porneia. It assumes that Matthew would see an incestuous “marriage” as a genuine marriage subject to divorce (instead of a sinful affair that must be terminated), and it introduces an unsupported major anachronism.

e. Moreover, simple alignment with the school of Shammai is implausible in a book demanding a righteousness surpassing that of the Pharisees (5:20) and in a context where Jesus’ teaching on divorce evokes a cynical response from the disciples (v.10).

3. Others argue that porneia simply means “adultery” in this context and that Jesus is interpreting the ʿerwat dābār (“something indecent”) of Deuteronomy 24:1 in this way. This does not necessarily mean that Matthew softens Mark. As Hill points out, in Jewish circles of the first century, Jewish law required a man to divorce an adulterous wife (m. Soṭah 5:1), and this may well be assumed by the other gospels “as an understood and accepted part of any teaching on the subject of divorce” but spelled out only in Matthew. This interpretation probably narrows down the meaning of porneia too far; but apart from that, the objections against it can be satisfactorily answered (see

below at point 8).

4. Bruce Vawter, in two articles (“The Divorce Clauses in Mt 5:32 and 19:9,” CBQ 16 [1954]: 155–67; and “Divorce and the New Testament,” CBQ 39 [1977]: 528–48), argues strongly that the except clauses have been misunderstood. They are preteritions, i.e., exceptions to the proposition itself, not simply to the verb. The except clause in v.9 therefore “means that porneia [which he takes to be equivalent to the ‘something indecent’ of Dt 24:1] is not involved”—i.e., “I say to you, whoever dismisses his wife—the permission in Deuteronomy 24:1 notwithstanding—and marries another, commits adultery.” Similarly, in Matthew 5:32, he understands the crucial phrase to mean “quite apart from the matter of porneia.” Vawter is followed by Banks (Jesus and the Law, 156–57). The effect of this interpretation is similar to point 1: Matthew allows no more of an exception than Mark, and Jesus specifically abrogates the Mosaic permission. It makes good sense of the disciples’ next remarks (v.10)—though Jesus’ rejoinder (vv.11–12) seems a bit of a letdown in a book in which the redactional pattern is not to have Jesus agree with his misunderstanding disciples but to reemphasize the point just made (cf. Q. Quesnell, “‘Made Themselves Eunuchs for the Kingdom of Heaven’ (Mt 19:12),” CBQ 30 [1968]: 340ff.). Moreover, it is not at all obvious that the except clauses are preteritions; certainly the earliest Greek commentators did not take them that way, as Quesnell (p. 348) points out.

5. What Quesnell himself argues is that Jesus by using the verb apolyō (v.9) permits, in the case of the wife’s marital infidelity, separation but not divorce (similarly G. J. Wenham, “May Divorced Christians Remarry?” Churchman 95 [1981]: 150–61; Dupont, Mariage et divorce, 93–157), and therefore no remarriage under any circumstances (cf. esp. William A. Heth and Gordon J. Wenham, Jesus and Divorce: The Problem with the Evangelical Consensus [Nashville: Abingdon, 1984]; Andrew Cornes, Divorce and Remarriage: Biblical Principles and Pastoral Practice [Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1993]; it should be noted that Heth subsequently changed his mind [see his “Jesus on Divorce: How My Mind Has Changed,” SBJT 6:1 (2002): 4–29]). Such separation without possibility of remarriage was unheard of in Jewish circles and, of course, would have been much stricter than the school of Shammai; and this prompts the disciples’ reaction (v.10). But two considerations stand against this view. First, apolyō has already been used in v.3 with the undoubted meaning “to divorce.” It is unwarranted to understand the same verb a few verses later in some other way, unless there is some compelling contextual reason for the change. Again, though it is formally true that the except clause is syntactically linked to the divorce clause, not the remarriage clause, this is scarcely decisive. Locating the except clause anywhere else would breed even more ambiguity. For instance, if it is placed before the verb moichatai (“commits adultery,” GK 3656), the verse might be paraphrased as follows: “Whoever divorces his wife and marries another, if it is not for fornication that he divorces one and marries another, commits adultery.” But this wording suggests that fornication is being advanced as the actual reason for marrying another, and not only for the divorce—an interpretation that borders on the ridiculous. Moreover, if the remarriage clause is excluded, the thought becomes nonsensical: “Anyone who divorces his wife, except for porneia, commits adultery”—surely untrue unless he remarries. The except clause must therefore be understood to govern the entire protasis. For detailed treatment of the syntax of conditionals with multiple protases, see Charles Edward Powell, “The Semantic Relationship Between the Protasis and the Apodosis of New Testament Conditional Constructions” (PhD diss., Dallas Theological Seminary, 2000), esp. 361–62. We may paraphrase as follows: “Anyone who divorces his wife and marries another woman commits adultery—though this principle does not hold in the case of porneia.”

6. John J. Kilgallen (“To What Are the Matthean Exception-Texts [5:32 and 19:9] an Exception?” Bib 61 [1980]: 102–5) suggests that the except clauses need only mean that in some cases divorce is not adulterous rather than that in some cases divorce is not morally wrong. He renders 5:32: “Everyone who divorces his wife (except in the case of porneia) makes her adulterous.” But in the case of porneia, he does not make her adulterous; she is already adulterous (similarly Westerholm, Jesus and Scribal Authority, 118–19, and the literature he cites). This is not convincing, for the Greek does not read “makes her adulterous” or “makes her an adulteress,” but “makes her commit adultery” (the passive infinitive does not mean “to become an adulter[ess]” but “to commit adultery”; cf. BDAG, 657). If the woman has already committed porneia, doubtless divorce (and the remarriage that would ensue) could scarcely be said to make her an adulteress, but such divorce and remarriage would make her commit adultery. And this approach does not work in v.9, where the result is not that the man makes his wife commit adultery but that he commits adultery.

7. More recently, David Instone-Brewer has written two books and several articles offering a new synthesis. The most important of these publications is his Divorce and Remarriage in the Bible: The Social and Literary Context (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2002). There is an outstanding amount of careful comparative material in his work, but on the crucial point where he makes his most significant synthetic and pastoral contribution, Instone-Brewer’s argument appears to be seriously flawed. In brief, he argues that Jesus’ arguments must be read not only against the background of Deuteronomy 24:1–4 (which is why they were treated above) but also against the background of Exodus 21:10–11: “If [a man] marries another woman, he must not deprive the first one of her food, clothing and marital rights. If he does not provide her with these three things, she is to go free, without any payment of money.” Whatever the restrictions here in v.9, Instone-Brewer argues that 1 Corinthians 7:15 (where Paul asserts that if the unbelieving spouse leaves, the believing spouse “is not bound in such circumstances”) surely includes the kind of abandonment mentioned in Exodus 21:10–11. In other words, spousal neglect in the domains of food, clothing/shelter, and sexual rights is ground for divorce and remarriage.

Although Instone-Brewer mounts as good a case as can be made for this view, it is open to severe criticisms. Strictly speaking, Exodus 21:10–11 is directed at the man who is adding another wife and who might be tempted to abandon the first one, not talking about marriage responsibilities in general. Jesus (and Paul too, for that matter) cuts so independent a swath in the domain of marriage and divorce, grounding his arguments on creation, that even an OT text that is specifically introduced, such as Deuteronomy 24:1–4, gets somewhat modified in its emphasis. So what right do we have to assume that Jesus and Paul are simply taking over Exodus 21:10–11 as an assumption? Does Instone-Brewer think that the law demanding that priests never marry a widow or a prostitute but only a virgin (Lev 21:13–15) should be imposed on all Christians today, since, according to Peter, we are all priests? Or should the test for an unfaithful wife be operative today (Nu 5:11–31; Dt 22:13–21)? These are not trick questions, nor are they trivial questions. What is missing from Instone-Brewer’s work is a believable theory of how these laws ought to be integrated with the demands of the new covenant. At the end of the day, his stance depends on an argument from silence: neither Jesus nor Paul has distanced himself from Exodus 21:10–11, so these must remain legitimate grounds for divorce and remarriage. I doubt that Instone-Brewer can apply that hermeneutical approach to the OT very consistently. Meanwhile, what Jesus and Paul do say explicitly—as here in v.9—seems to exclude the broad category of “spousal neglect” that he wishes to include.

8. It seems best, then, to permit both porneia and the except clause to retain their normal force. Jesus is then saying that divorce and remarriage always involve evil; but as Moses permitted it because of the hardness of human hearts, so also does he—but now on the sole grounds of porneia (sexual sin of any sort). The principal exegetical difficulties surrounding this view may be treated as follows:

a. Formally Jesus is abrogating something of the Mosaic prescription; for whatever the ʿerwat dābār (“something indecent”) refers to (Dt 24:1), it cannot easily be thought to refer to adultery, for which the prescribed punishment was death. That this was rarely carried out (McKeating, “Sanctions against Adultery”; cf. Joseph in 1:19–20) is beside the point. As a legal system, irrespective of whether it was enforced, the Deuteronomic permission for divorce and remarriage could scarcely have adultery primarily in view. But porneia includes adultery, even if not restricted to it. Jesus’ judgments on the matter are therefore both lighter (no capital punishment for adultery) and heavier (the sole exception being sexual sin) than the Mosaic code.

b. This exception does not contradict Jesus’ strong words in vv.4–8, despite frequent insistence on the contrary. In vv.4–8, Jesus lays out the true direction in which Scripture points (cf. Jesus’ treatment of oaths, 5:33–37, where there is also formal abrogation of a Mosaic command). Even here, Jesus acknowledges that the Mosaic concession springs not from divine desire but human hard-heartedness. Would Jesus say human hearts were any less hard in his own day? Might there not, therefore, be some exception to the principle he lays out, precisely because porneia was not on the Creator’s mind in Genesis 1–2? More important, sexual sin has a peculiar relation to Jesus’ treatment of Genesis 1:27; 2:24 (in Mt 19:4–6), because the indissolubility of marriage he defends by appealing to those verses from the creation accounts is predicated on sexual union (“one flesh”). Sexual promiscuity is, therefore, a de facto exception. It may not necessitate divorce; but permission for divorce and remarriage under such circumstances, far from being inconsistent with Jesus’ thought, is in perfect harmony with it.

c. Although it is commonly held that the except clauses are secondary and bring Matthew into a clash with Mark, the issue is not so simple. Not a few scholars hold that, at least on this point, Matthew 19:9 is authentic and that Mark omits the obvious exception (e.g., Schlatter; Isaksson, Marriage and Ministry, 75–92; D. L. Dungan, The Sayings of Jesus in the Churches of Paul [Philadelphia: Fortress, 1971], 122–25).

Catchpole (“Synoptic Divorce Material”), on the other hand, argues for Markan priority on the ground that the aporias he finds in Matthew 19:3–12 can all be explained by recognizing that they have been introduced precisely where Matthew has changed Mark. His argument has some weight only if the aporias are real; but the four he mentions are either imagined or explainable in other ways. For instance, Catchpole holds that v.9 does not cohere with vv.4–8, and this problem can be remedied only by the removal of the except clause in v.9 which is precisely the new bit Matthew has added. But we have shown above at point 8b that v.9 does cohere with vv.4–8. This does not prove that Matthew did not depend on Mark, but it forbids claiming he did. And even if Mark’s priority prevails in this pericope, Matthew’s redactional additions cannot be assumed to be nonhistorical unless we have evidence that Matthew had access to no other information (see Introduction, ). We conclude, therefore, that there is no decisive evidence for literary dependence either way, and that there is no overwhelming reason why the except clauses, both here and in 5:32, should not be authentic.

Certainly, on the interpretation adopted here, Matthew and Mark-Luke have this in common: they abrogate any permission for divorce in Deuteronomy 24:1 if that permission extends, or is thought to extend, beyond sexual sin. If Mark has priority, the except clause in Matthew seems best explained along the line suggested by Hill above at point 3; if the reverse, or if the two gospels preserve independent accounts of the same incident, Mark may think the exception so obvious (because it concerns sexual infidelity, the heart of the union according to Genesis) as not to be worth mentioning. Moreover, the exception is particularly appropriate to Jesus’ day and to Matthew’s Jewish readers, for though Jesus had formally dismissed the Mosaic divorce provisions and substituted marital unfaithfulness as the sole basis of a rupture of the “one flesh,” this exception collided with the Mosaic sentence of stoning in such cases—a fact of which Jewish audiences were doubtless aware. With the death penalty for marital porneia effectively abolished, “the termination of the relationship might appropriately be effected by divorce” (James B. Hurley, Man and Woman in Biblical Perspective [Leicester: InterVarsity, 1981], 104; cf. John Murray, Divorce [Philadelphia: Presbyterian & Reformed, 1953], 51ff.).

d. The final problem is whether this interpretation adequately accounts for the disciples’ reaction (v.10). Before turning to this, we may observe that Mark 10:12 makes the same responsibilities and privileges concerning divorce and remarriage extend to the woman as well as the man—probably a pointed rebuke of Herodias (cf. Lane, Mark, 358). Mark omits the except clause and retains the remark about women, Matthew the reverse. (Further discussion of the related question of the so-called Pauline privilege [1Co 7:15]—i.e., beyond what was said above at point 7—must be left to commentaries on 1 Corinthians.)

10–12 Dupont (Mariage et divorce, 161–222) argues that these verses deal, not with celibacy, but with continence after divorce. Believing that no remarriage is legitimate, Dupont argues that the divorced believer must remain continent “for the sake of the kingdom”—i.e., in order to enter it—because remarriage would be adulterous. Somewhat similar is Francis J. Moloney’s position (“Matthew 19:3–12 and Celibacy: A Redactional and Form-Critical Study,” JSNT 2 (1979): 42–60, esp. 47ff.). But in addition to the difficulties entailed by holding that no remarriage is permitted (see

), “eunuch” is a strange figure for continence after marriage, especially since if the divorced spouse died, the survivor could remarry (Dupont’s view).

There is a better way to look at these verses. First, the disciples’ reaction (v.10) must not be exaggerated. Unlike v.25, there is no mention of astonishment. Jesus, though not forbidding all divorce and remarriage, has come close to the school of Shammai on the grounds for exceptions, while taking a far more conservative stance than Shammai on who may remarry. In the light of the position, tacitly adopted by most Jews, that marriage was a duty, the disciples rather cynically conclude that such strictures surely make marriage unattractive. This virtually makes the appeal of marriage contingent on liberal divorce and remarriage rights—a stance that fails miserably to understand what Jesus has said about the creation ordinance.

Verse 11 can then be understood in one of two ways. Ton logon touton (lit., “this word”—regardless of whether touton is original, since ton can be a mild demonstrative) refers either to Jesus’ teaching in vv.4–9 or to the disciples’ misguided remark in v.10. The NIV’s “this teaching” (v.11) favors the former, but this is unlikely, for it makes Jesus contradict himself. After a strong prohibition, it is highly unlikely that Jesus’ moral teaching dwindles into a pathetic “But of course, not everyone can accept this.”

It helps little to say (with Bonnard) that those to whom the teaching is given are Christians who must follow Jesus’ moral standards but that others cannot accept what he says, for Jesus’ appeal has been to the creation ordinance, not to kingdom morality. It is better to take “this word” to refer to the disciples’ conclusion in v.10: “it is better not to marry.” Jesus responds that not everyone can live by such a verdict, such abstinence from marriage. But some do, namely, those to whom it is given—those born eunuchs, those made eunuchs by men (possibly in groups like the Essenes, but more likely a reflection of the rabbinic distinction between two types of eunuch: the impotent and the castrated—the latter very often for some high court position where there were royal women (cf. Ac 8:26–39; Str-B, 1:805–7)—and those who have made themselves eunuchs because of the kingdom of God. The latter is not a commendation of self-castration but of renunciation of marriage in light of the disciples’ remark, “it is better not to marry.”

Jesus, like Paul after him (1Co 7:7–9), is prepared to commend celibacy “because of the kingdom” (not “for the sake of attaining it,” but “because of its claims and interests”; cf. J. Blinzler, “Εἰσίν εὐνοῦχοι: Zur Auslegung von Mt 19:12,” ZNW 28 [1957]: 254–70). Thus, far from backing down at the disciples’ surliness, Jesus freely concedes that for those to whom it is given “it is better not to marry”; and “The one who can accept this should accept it.” But it is important to recognize that neither Jesus nor the apostles see celibacy as an intrinsically holier state than marriage (cf. 1Ti 4:1–3; Heb 13:4), nor as a condition for the top levels of ministry (Mt 8:14; 1Co 9:5), but as a special calling granted for greater usefulness in the kingdom. Those who impose this discipline on themselves must remember Paul’s conclusion: it is better to marry than to burn with passion (1Co 7:9).

Two final observations: (1) The authenticity of v.12 has been admirably defended by T. Matura (“Le celibat dans le Nouveau Testament,” NRTh 107 [1975]: 481–500); and (2) Jesus’ remarks betray a certain self-conscious independence of the OT law, which excluded eunuchs from the assembly of Yahweh (Dt 23:1; cf. Lev 22:24; Str-B, 1:806–7; see Schweizer). One cannot forget the conversion of the Ethiopian eunuch (Ac 8:26–40), who, though he would have been excluded from the assembly of Yahweh, was joyfully welcomed to the assembly of Messiah.

NOTES

5 On the use of εἰς σάρκα μίαν (eis sarka mian, “one flesh”) instead of a predicative nominative, see Moule, Idiom Book, 183, 208; Zerwick, Biblical Greek, para. 32.

10 Οὕτως (houtōs, lit., “thus”) here takes on a relatively rare adjectival function (NIV, “this”; cf. BDF, para. 434 [1]).

Contrary to B. F. Meyer (Aims of Jesus), αἰτία (aitia) here means not “cause” but “case” or “situation” (NIV; cf. BDF, para. 5 [3b]).

13Then little children were brought to Jesus for him to place his hands on them and pray for them. But the disciples rebuked those who brought them.

14Jesus said, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.” 15When he had placed his hands on them, he went on from there.

COMMENTARY

13 “Then” is ambiguous (see

). Children in Jesus’ day were often brought to rabbis and elders to be blessed, customarily by placing hands on them (cf. Ge 48:14; Nu 27:18; Ac 6:6; 13:3; see also Mt 9:18, 20; Mk 10:16). The disciples “rebuked them” (lit.): both the context and the synoptic parallels show that “them” refers, not to the children, but to “those who brought them” (NIV).

Why did the disciples stoop to this rebuke? Perhaps they were annoyed that Jesus was being delayed on his journey to Jerusalem; perhaps they felt they were being interrupted in their important discussion. Although children in the Judaism of the time were deeply cherished, they were thought in some ways to be negligible members of society. Their place was to learn, to be respectful, to listen. But two deeper insights suggest themselves: (1) the preceding pericope (vv.3–12) implicitly stresses the sanctity of the family, and vv.13–15 continue by saying something important about children; and (2) in 18:1–9, children serve as models for humility, patterns for Jesus’ “little ones”; yet Jesus’ disciples, his “little ones,” show little humility here.

14 Jesus does not want the little children prevented from coming to him, not because the kingdom of heaven belongs to them, but because the kingdom of heaven belongs to those like them (so also Mark and Luke, stressing childlike faith). Jesus receives them because they are an excellent object lesson in the kind of humility and faith he finds acceptable.

NOTES

14 O. Cullmann (Baptism in the New Testament, 71–80) finds in μὴ κωλύετε (mē kōluete, “do not hinder”) an echo of a primitive baptismal formula, because this verb refers to baptism elsewhere (3:14; Ac 8:36; 10:47; 11:17). He does not argue that here Jesus teaches infant baptism but that the church transmitted the story in such a way that Christians would remember an event in Jesus’ ministry “by which they might be led to a solution of the question of infant baptism” (p. 78). Apart from the propriety of finding a solution to a later problem in a story all agree does not address it, the suggestion that μὴ κωλύετε, mē kōluete, was a technical term that connoted baptism is very doubtful. The verb occurs twenty-three times in the NT, and only five of these relate to baptism. The four (outside this passage) allegedly referring to baptism fail to establish a clear baptismal formula: in 3:14 John tries “to deter” Jesus; in Acts 8:36 the Ethiopian eunuch asks what “prevents” him from being baptized; and the remaining two occurrences (Ac 10:47; 11:17) justify the baptism of the Gentile Cornelius on the grounds that the Spirit had fallen on him.

OVERVIEW

Some of the differences between Matthew and Mark-Luke (cf. Mk 10:17–31; Lk 18:18–30) are so sharp (see vv.16–17) that they have frequently served as tests for redaction criticism. Many, of course, are of little significance. Matthew introduces the central figure as “a man” and later says he was “young” (v.20). Mark (10:17) says nothing about his age but provides more details of the initial meeting: it was “as Jesus started on his way” that a man “ran up” to him and “fell on his knees before him.” These and many similar differences have been treated elsewhere (cf. Carson, “Redaction Criticism,” 119ff.). The nub of the problem turns on vv.16–17 and parallels.

16Now a man came up to Jesus and asked, “Teacher, what good thing must I do to get eternal life?”

17“Why do you ask me about what is good?” Jesus replied. “There is only One who is good. If you want to enter life, obey the commandments.”

18“Which ones?” the man inquired.

Jesus replied, “‘Do not murder, do not commit adultery, do not steal, do not give false testimony, 19honor your father and mother,’ and ‘love your neighbor as yourself.’”

20“All these I have kept,” the young man said. “What do I still lack?”

21Jesus answered, “If you want to be perfect, go, sell your possessions and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me.”

22When the young man heard this, he went away sad, because he had great wealth.

COMMENTARY

16–17 A certain man—identified by all three evangelists as rich, by Matthew (v.20) as young, and by Luke (18:18) as a ruler—asks Jesus what he must do to inherit “eternal life” (v.16). The latter expression refers to a life “approved by God and to which access to the kingdom (present and eschatological) is promised (cf. the rabbinic ‘life of the age to come’)” (Hill; cf. 7:14; 25:46; see Hill, Greek Words, 163–201).

The problem arises when Matthew is compared with Mark and Luke. In the latter, the questioner asks, “Good teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” (Lk 18:18). Jesus replies, “Why do you call me good? No one is good—except God alone” (v.19). In Matthew, however, the questioner asks, “Teacher, what good thing must I do to inherit eternal life?” (v.16). “Good” no longer modifies “teacher,” and therefore Jesus’ response is correspondingly adapted: “Why do you ask me about what is good? There is only One who is good” (v.17). A majority of modern scholars hold that Matthew has transformed the exchange because, at his later time of writing, the church can no longer live with the suggestion that Jesus himself is not sinless.

It is logically possible to achieve harmonization by mere addition (“Good teacher, what good thing?” followed by Jesus giving both answers); indeed, later copyists of NT manuscripts sometimes opted for such an approach (hence KJV). But the procedure is notoriously implausible. The evangelists, as we have often witnessed, are far more concerned with Jesus’ ipsissima vox than his ipsissima verba (see Notes, 3:17); and we do the Scriptures disservice when we fail to consider the implications. Nevertheless, the christological explanation ventured by many is equally implausible. A better understanding of the text is gained from the following observations.

1. Stonehouse (Origins, 93–112) has convincingly demonstrated that christological concerns do not stand at the heart of any of the three synoptic accounts. The argument of G. M. Styler (“Stages in Christology in the Synoptic Gospels,” NTS 10 [1963–64]: 404–6) that Matthew reflects a growing interest in ontology is especially weak. Styler argues that, unlike Mark, Matthew believes Jesus is divine. But Hill rightly points out that Matthew still preserves the words “There is only One who is good,” a clear reference to God; and the alteration says nothing about Jesus’ status in relation to God. Moreover, Styler has adopted a historical reconstruction of the development of doctrine that not all find convincing (cf. D. A. Carson, “Unity and Diversity: On the Possibility of Systematic Theology,” in Scripture and Truth [ed. Carson and Woodbridge], 65ff.), especially here where Luke, probably writing after Matthew or at least very close to him, senses no embarrassment in Mark’s words but records them verbatim—and this despite the fact that Luke elsewhere feels free to drop bits that could be taken as detrimental to Jesus. We must, therefore, look for nonchristological explanations for Matthew’s alteration.

2. The thrust of the passage in both Mark and Matthew must be grasped. Irrespective of what “good” refers to, the man approaches Jesus with a question showing how far he is from the humble faith that, as Jesus has just finished saying, characterizes all who belong to the kingdom (vv.13–15). He wants to earn eternal life, and in the light of v.20, he apparently thinks there are good things he can do, beyond the demands of the law, by which he can assure his salvation. Many Jews believed that a specific act of goodness could win eternal life (Str-B, 1:808ff.); this young man, assuming this opinion is correct, seeks Jesus’ view as to what that act might be. Whatever differences exist between Matthew and Luke, Jesus’ response is not designed either to confess personal sin (Mark) or to call in question his own competence to discuss what is good (Matthew), for such topics are not in view (see B. B. Warfield, “Jesus’ Alleged Confession of Sin,” PTR 12 [1914]: 127–228). Instead Jesus calls into question his interlocutor’s inadequate understanding of goodness. In the absolute sense of goodness required to gain eternal life, only God is good (cf. 1Ch 16:34; 2Ch 5:13; Ps 106:1; 118:1, 29). Jesus will not allow anything other than God’s will to determine what is good. By approaching Jesus in this way (esp. vv.16, 20), the young man reveals simultaneously that he wants something beyond God’s will (v.20) and that he misconstrues the absoluteness of God’s goodness.

3. In this light, Matthew’s phrasing of the initial exchange between Jesus and the young man focuses on the issue central for both Matthew and Mark more clearly than Mark does. To that extent it also ties this pericope more closely to the preceding one than Mark does. This young man stands in stunning contrast to those to whom, according to Jesus, the kingdom belongs. This may help explain Matthew’s wording.

4. Within this framework, Mark 10:18 no more calls into question Jesus’ sinlessness than Matthew 19:17 calls into question Jesus’ competence to judge what is good. Apart from the assumption of Mark’s priority without either evangelist having access to other traditions, it is difficult to see why, if we charge Matthew with eliminating the possibility that readers might think Jesus could sin, we should not charge Mark with eliminating the possibility that some readers might think Jesus could not pronounce on what was good. Both charges would miss the central point of both Matthew and Mark.

5. “If you want to enter life, obey the commandments” (v.17) does not mean that Matthew, unlike Mark, thinks eternal life is earned by keeping the commandments. After all, Mark himself is about to report Jesus’ exhortation to keep specific commandments. The entire debate has been bedevilled by a false split between grace and obedience to the will of God. No less staunch a supporter of grace than Paul can insist that without certain purity a man cannot inherit the kingdom (1Co 6:9–10). Jesus tells this young man, in similar vein, what good things he must do if he is to gain eternal life, precisely because he perceives his questioner has little understanding of such things. But that is still far from telling him that by doing these things he will earn eternal life.

6. But why, then, has either Matthew or Mark edited the exchange? Or, if the two reports are independent, or if Matthew depends on Mark but has eyewitness knowledge of the events, how is it possible that both accounts can be accepted as trustworthy representations of the same incident? Lohmeyer suggests that the variations stem from different translations of an Aramaic report of the incident. Better yet is a reconstruction of the incident that, though not simple additive harmonization, provides a historical basis broad enough to support reports of both Matthew and Mark-Luke and fits well within the normal latitude the evangelists show in their reportage. This reconstruction is worked out in more detail elsewhere (Carson, “Redaction Criticism”). Briefly, it suggests the young ruler’s question was, “Good teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” and that Jesus’ reply was, “Why do you ask me questions regarding the good? There is only One who is good, namely, God.”

18–20 Jesus lists the sixth, seventh, eighth, ninth, and fifth commandments of Exodus 20 in that order. He omits “do not defraud” (Mk 10:19, apparently an application of the eighth and ninth) and adds “love your neighbor as yourself” (Lev 19:18; cf. Mt 22:34–40). On the text form, compare Gundry (Use of the Old Testament, 17–19) and K. J. Thomas (“Liturgical Citations in the Synoptics,” NTS 22 [1975–76]: 205–14). The man’s impulsive reply is reflected by Paul (Php 3:6; cf. Str-B, 1:814) on a certain understanding of the law, but the man’s further words, “What do I still lack?” show his uncertainty and lack of assurance of ever being good enough for salvation, as well as his notion that certain “good works” are over and above the law (cf. Str-B, 4:536ff., 559ff.). He enjoyed wealth (v.22) while suffering barrenness of soul.

21–22 Many have taken these verses to indicate a two-tier ethic. Some disciples find eternal life, and others go further and become perfect by adopting a more compassionate stance (e.g., Harrington; NIDNTT, 2:63). But G. Barth (“Matthew’s Understanding of the Law,” 95ff.) convincingly disproves this exegesis. In particular the young man’s question in v.20, “What do I still lack?” clearly refers to gaining eternal life (v.17), and Jesus’ answer in v.21 must be understood as answering the question. A two-tier Christianity is implicitly contradicted by 23:8–12, and the same word (“perfect”) is applied to all of Jesus’ disciples in 5:48. Matthew shows no strong tendency toward asceticism. Therefore, the basic thrust of v.21 is not “Sell your possessions and give to the poor” but “Come, follow me.”

What the word “perfection” suggests here is what it commonly means in the OT—undivided loyalty and full-hearted obedience. This young man could not face that. He was willing to discipline himself to observe all the outward stipulations and even perform supererogatory works, but because of his wealth, he had a divided heart. His money was competing with God, and what Jesus everywhere demands as a condition for eternal life is absolute, radical discipleship. This entails the surrender of self. “Keeping the individual commandments is no substitute for the readiness for self-surrender to the absolute claim of God imposed through the call of the gospel. Jesus’ summons in this context means that true obedience to the Law is rendered ultimately in discipleship” (Lane, Mark, 367). Warren Carter (Households and Discipleship: A Study in Matthew 19–20 [JSNTSup 103; Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1994]) has an excellent discussion on how wealth was viewed in the ancient world (pp. 127–43) but badly misses the point when he assumes that this young man’s wealth was gained by oppression (p. 388). There is not a hint of that in the text.

Formally, of course, Jesus’ demand in v.21 goes beyond anything in OT law (cf. Banks, Jesus and the Law, 163). Equally remarkable is the fact that the focus on God’s will (vv.17–19) should culminate in following Jesus. The explanation of this is that Jesus is prophesied by the OT. The will of God as revealed in Scripture looks forward to the coming of Messiah (see

;

;

). Absolute allegiance to him, with the humility of a child, is essential to salvation. The condition Jesus now imposes not only reveals the man’s attachment to money but shows that all his formal compliance with the law is worthless because none of it entails absolute self-surrender. What the man needs is the triumph of grace, for as the next verses show, entering the kingdom of heaven is impossible for him (v.26). God, with whom all things are possible, must work. The parable in 20:1–16 directly speaks to this issue. But the young man is deaf to it. He leaves because if a choice must be made between money and Jesus, money wins (cf. 6:24).

NOTES

20 Here and elsewhere (Allen, xxiii), Matthew uses the aorist active verb—this time ἐφύλαξα (ephylaxa, “I have kept”)—rather than the middle Mark uses—but the distinction is hardly worth mentioning (cf. Moule, Idiom Book, 24).

23Then Jesus said to his disciples, “I tell you the truth, it is hard for a rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven. 24Again I tell you, it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God.”

25When the disciples heard this, they were greatly astonished and asked, “Who then can be saved?”

26Jesus looked at them and said, “With man this is impossible, but with God all things are possible.”

27Peter answered him, “We have left everything to follow you! What then will there be for us?”

28Jesus said to them, “I tell you the truth, at the renewal of all things, when the Son of Man sits on his glorious throne, you who have followed me will also sit on twelve thrones, judging the twelve tribes of Israel. 29And everyone who has left houses or brothers or sisters or father or mother or children or fields for my sake will receive a hundred times as much and will inherit eternal life. 30But many who are first will be last, and many who are last will be first.”

COMMENTARY

23–24 Jesus is not saying that all poor people and none of the wealthy enter the kingdom of heaven (see

). That would exclude Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, to say nothing of David, Solomon, and Joseph of Arimathea; it would also sanction the lazy and wicked poor, sometimes excoriated in the book of Proverbs. (For a balanced treatment of these themes, see Craig L. Blomberg, Neither Poverty Nor Riches: A Biblical Theology of Possessions [NSBT 7; Downers Grove, Ill.: InterVarsity, 1999].) The point of Jesus’ teaching lies elsewhere. Most Jews expected the rich to inherit eternal life, not because their wealth could buy their way in, but because their wealth testified to the blessing of the Lord on their lives. Jesus’ view is a different and more sober one. (On “I tell you the truth,” see

.) The proverbial saying of v.24 refers to the absolutely impossible. The camel was the biggest animal in Palestine (a similar proverb in Babylonian Talmud [b. Ber. 55b] prefers “elephant” to “camel” because elephants were not uncommon in Babylon). Attempts to weaken this hyperbole by taking “needle,” not as a sewing needle, but as a small gate through which an unladen camel could just squeeze—and only on his knees—are misguided. This conjecture may come from some of Jerome’s allegorizing (cf. Broadus).

25–26 “Saved” is equivalent to entering the kingdom of God (v.24) or obtaining eternal life (v.16). The disciples, reflecting the common Jewish view of the rich, are astonished and ask that if rich men, blessed of God, cannot be saved, then who can be? Jesus agrees: “With man this [the salvation of anyone] is impossible, but with God all things are possible” (v.26; cf. Ge 18:14; Job 42:2; Lk 1:37).

27–28 Peter, impressed by “impossible” and speaking for his fellow disciples, thinks Jesus’ words are unfair to the Twelve. Peter emphatically replies, “We have left everything to follow you” (cf. 4:20). Even here, he and the others are thinking in terms of deserving or earning God’s favor. Yet Jesus does not castigate his disciples for being mercenary. They have made sacrifices and deserve an answer. But what he says—that the blessing to come, whether belonging exclusively to the Twelve at the renewal (v.28) or to all believers now (vv.29–30), far surpasses any sacrifice they might make—implies that it is a gentle rebuke.

Verse 28 has no parallel in Mark and only a loose one in Luke 22:28–30. The solemn “I tell you the truth” points to something important. Jesus looks forward to the session of the Son of Man (see

). He will sit on his “glorious throne” (lit., “throne of glory”; see Zerwick, Biblical Greek, para. 41; Turner, Syntax, 214; cf. 7:22; 16:27; 25:31–34) at the palingenesia (“renewal” of all things), a word used only twice in the NT, the other occurrence dealing with “rebirth ... by the Holy Spirit” (Tit 3:5). Here it has to do with the consummation of the kingdom (RSV, “in the new world”). (For its use elsewhere, see TDNT, 1:686–89; NIDNTT, 1:184–85; cf. 13:32; Ac 3:21; Ro 8:18–23, 2Pe 3:13; Rev 21:1, 5; 1QS 4:25.)

Contrary to Schweizer, there is no allusion to the endless Stoic cycles of conflagration and “renewal”; the idea moves strictly within Jewish teleological and apocalyptic expectation. But the remarkable feature of this verse is that the Twelve will “sit on twelve thrones,” sharing judgment with the Son of Man. The idea that believers will at the consummation have a part in judging is not uncommon in the NT (Lk 22:30; 1Co 6:2). What is less clear is whether (1) the twelve apostles exercise judgment over the twelve tribes of Israel physically and racially conceived, or whether (2) the twelve apostles will exercise some kind of judgment over the entire church, symbolized by “Israel” (cf. Rev 21:12–14), or whether (3) the Twelve represent the entire assembly of Messiah, who will exercise a juridical role over racial Israel. The third supposition has no scriptural parallel; the second is possible but an unnatural way of taking “Israel” in a book that, though applying OT promises to Gentiles and Jews alike—namely, the “church” of Messiah—distinguishes between the two. The most plausible interpretation is the first one. At the consummation, the Twelve will judge the nation of Israel, presumably for its general rejection of Jesus Messiah. (On the symbolism, see Joseph M. Baumgarten, “The Duodecimal Courts of Qumran, Revelation, and the Sanhedrin,” JBL 95 [1976]: 59–78, esp. 70–72; France, Jesus and the Old Testament, 65–66.)

29–30 Jesus now extends his encouragement to all his self-sacrificing disciples (cf. Mk 10:30). The promise is not literal (one cannot have one hundred mothers). God is no man’s debtor. If one of Jesus’ disciples has, for Jesus’ sake, left, say, a father, he will find within the messianic community a hundred who will be as a father to him—in addition to inheriting eternal life (v.29).

The proverbial saying (v.30) is one Jesus repeats on various occasions. Here he immediately illustrates it by a parable (20:1–16), climaxed by the proverb in reverse form (20:16) as a closing bracket. It indicates something of the reversals under the king’s reign. Attempts to restrict the application of this parable to one setting are not successful.

1. Some say the rich become poor at the consummation and the poor rich (cf. vv.16–29), as in Luke 16:19–31 (the story of Lazarus and the beggar). But such reversals are not absolute. Zacchaeus (Lk 19:1–10) was a rich man to whose house salvation came; Abraham, to whose “bosom” the beggar went, had great wealth.

2. Many of the Fathers hold that the first/last idea refers to Jews and Gentiles respectively. Doubtless it may, but this theme is not dominant in these chapters.

3. Some think the proverb assumes that the disciples had been arguing about priority on the basis of who was first called, to which Jesus responds that “the last will be first ...” But this better suits the situation in Matthew 18 than in ch. 19.

4. It seems preferable, therefore, to take the proverb as a way of setting forth God’s grace over against all notions that the rich, powerful, great, and prominent will continue so in the kingdom. Those who approach God in childlike trust (vv.13–15) will be received and advanced in the kingdom beyond those who, from the world’s perspective, enjoy prominence now.

OVERVIEW

On parables generally, see

. From this one, found only in Matthew, we learn how “the last” person can become “first” (19:30)—by free grace (see esp. v.15). Bailey (Jesus through Middle Eastern Eyes, 355) rightly points out that the common title given this parable, namely, “The Parable of the Workers,” misdirects the reader’s focus. The parable is primarily not about the workers at all but about “the amazing grace and compassion of the employer” (ibid.; cf. Jeremias, Parables of Jesus, 37). The point is not that those who work just an hour do as much as those who work all day (unlike a Jewish parable ca. AD 325 that tells of a man who, on those grounds, is paid a month’s wages for a few hours’ discussion), nor that the willingness of the latecomers matches that of the all-day workers (contra TDNT, 4:717 and n. 91), nor that Gentiles are the latecomers in contrast to the Jews (the context knows no such distinctions), nor that all men are equal before God or that all kingdom work is equal. Still less acceptable is Derrett’s lengthy explanation (Studies in the New Testament, 1:48–75). He rightly holds that the entire parable portrays working conditions in the first century, but the eleventh-hour men, entitled to a certain minimum wage, actually get more. But Derrett’s view depends on late sources for minimum wage laws, and he assumes that the grapes were urgently in need of harvesting and that it must have been Friday afternoon—none of which the text implies.

Huffmann (“Atypical Features in the Parables,” 209–10) is right. The parable begins with a topical scene and introduces atypical elements to surprise the reader and make a powerful point. “Jesus deliberately and cleverly led the listeners along by degrees until they understood that if God’s generosity was to be represented by a man, such a man would be different from any man ever encountered” (p. 209).

1“For the kingdom of heaven is like a landowner who went out early in the morning to hire men to work in his vineyard. 2He agreed to pay them a denarius for the day and sent them into his vineyard.

3“About the third hour he went out and saw others standing in the marketplace doing nothing. 4He told them, ‘You also go and work in my vineyard, and I will pay you whatever is right.’ 5So they went.

“He went out again about the sixth hour and the ninth hour and did the same thing. 6About the eleventh hour he went out and found still others standing around. He asked them, ‘Why have you been standing here all day long doing nothing?’

7“‘Because no one has hired us,’ they answered.

“He said to them, ‘You also go and work in my vineyard.’

8“When evening came, the owner of the vineyard said to his foreman, ‘Call the workers and pay them their wages, beginning with the last ones hired and going on to the first.’

9“The workers who were hired about the eleventh hour came and each received a denarius. 10So when those came who were hired first, they expected to receive more. But each one of them also received a denarius. 11When they received it, they began to grumble against the landowner. 12‘These men who were hired last worked only one hour,’ they said, ‘and you have made them equal to us who have borne the burden of the work and the heat of the day.’

13“But he answered one of them, ‘Friend, I am not being unfair to you. Didn’t you agree to work for a denarius? 14Take your pay and go. I want to give the man who was hired last the same as I gave you. 15Don’t I have the right to do what I want with my own money? Or are you envious because I am generous?’

16“So the last will be first, and the first will be last.”

COMMENTARY

1–2 On the formula “the kingdom of heaven is like,” see

. The normal working day was ten hours or so, not counting breaks. The landowner in the parable finds his first set of men at about 6:00 a.m. (hama prōi means “at dawn”; NIV, “early in the morning”; on the construction, see Moule, Idiom Book, 82) and agrees to pay each worker a denarius (v.2)—the normal wage for a foot soldier or day laborer (Tob 5:14 [LXX 5:15]; cf. Tacitus, Ann., 1.17; Pliny, Nat. 33.3).

3–7 There were twelve “hours” from dawn to sundown. The third hour (v.3) would be about 9:00 a.m., the sixth about noon, and the eleventh about 5:00 p.m. The marketplace would be the central square, where all kinds of business were done and casual labor hired. Why the landowner kept returning to hire more men—lack of foresight, not finding enough workers earlier in the day at the marketplace, the poor work of the first laborers—is not spelled out and, therefore, cannot be the key to the parable. The third-hour men are promised “whatever is right” (v.4); trusting the landowner’s integrity, they work on that basis (v.5). The last group (v.6) were standing around (“idle” [KJV] is a late addition) because no one had hired them (v.7).

8–12 Some take “when evening came” as an allusion to the judgment, but this is doubtful. It is essential to the story in a time when laborers were customarily paid at the end of each day (cf. Lev 19:13). The foreman is told to pay each man (lit.) “the wage”—the standard day-laborer’s wage. Who gets paid first is crucial: it is only because the last hired receive a day’s wage (v.9) that those first hired expect to get more than they bargained for (v.10). They “grumble against” (v.11) the owner because he has been generous to others and merely just to them. They have borne “the heat” of the day (kausōn, v.12; either direct sunlight or hot wind [BDAG, 536]), which could drive workers from the field; though fairly paid, they feel unfairly treated because others who worked much less received what they did. Nothing in the parable implies that Jews have borne the burden of the law and now Gentile outcasts are made equal to them.

13–15 “Friend” suggests that this rebuke is only a mild one. “I am not being unfair to you”—I am not cheating you, defrauding you (cf. M. Black, “Some Greek Words with Hebrew Meanings in the Epistles and Apocalypse,” in Biblical Studies (ed. J. R. McKay and J. F. Miller; London: Collins, 1976], 142ff.). The owner has paid the agreed-on wage (v.14). If he wants to pay others more, that is his business. Provided he has been just in all his dealings, does he not have the right to do what he wants with his money (v.15)? The NIV translates “is your eye evil” (lit. Gk.) by “are you envious,” because the “evil eye” was an idiom used to refer to jealousy (cf. Dt 15:9; 1Sa 18:9; see

These rhetorical questions (vv.13b–15) show that God’s great gifts, simply because they are God’s, are distributed, not because they are earned, but because he is gracious. Jesus is not laying down principles for resolving union-management disputes. On the contrary, “the principle in the world is that he who works the longest receives the most pay. That is just. But in the kingdom of God the principles of merit and ability may be set aside so that grace can prevail” (Kistemaker, Parables of Jesus, 77–78). See also Notes, 5:12; cf. G. de Ru, “The Conception of Reward in the Teaching of Jesus,” NovT 8 [1966]: 202–22.

16 God’s grace makes some who are last first. The point of the parable is not that all in the kingdom will receive the same reward but that kingdom rewards depend on God’s sovereign grace (cf. v.23). For the inclusio around the parable, see

NOTES

5 The expression οἱ δὲ ἀπῆλθον (hoi de apēlthon) at the beginning of this verse can plausibly be rendered “But they went away” (as Charette, Theme of Recompense, 115 n. 2, observes). The meaning of the parable would not thereby change; rather, its lesson would not apply to this particular group that “went away” instead of working. More likely, then, the expression should be rendered “So they went” (NIV) or “And off they went” (France [NICNT]), so as not to have an anomalous group stuck in the middle of the parable.

10 The article in τὸ ἀνὰ δηνάριον (to ana dēnarion) is anaphoric, i.e., “a denarius to each man as to the others who preceded”; cf. BDF, para. 266 (2).

15 “Or” is omitted by some MSS, with the evidence rather evenly divided (cf. Metzger, Textual Commentary, 50–51).

16 Many MSS add to the end of the verse “for many are invited, but few are chosen.” The shorter reading is Alexandrian and Western. The longer reading, if original, might have been dropped by homoeoteleuton; but it is equally possible the extra words are an assimilation to 22:14 (so Metzger, Textual Commentary, 5).

OVERVIEW

See

;

; for the synoptic parallels, see Mark 10:32–34; Luke 18:31–34. Here there is the first mention of the mode of Jesus’ death and of the Gentiles’ part in it (only the Romans could crucify people). These three verses may look back to the preceding parable by implying the grounds of God’s grace—namely, what his Son did on the cross. Also, just as 19:13–15 sets the stage for 19:16–30, so 20:17–19 sets it for vv.20–28. While Jesus faces crucifixion, his disciples, still blind to the nature of his messiahship, squabble over their places in the kingdom.

17Now as Jesus was going up to Jerusalem, he took the twelve disciples aside and said to them, 18“We are going up to Jerusalem, and the Son of Man will be betrayed to the chief priests and the teachers of the law. They will condemn him to death 19and will turn him over to the Gentiles to be mocked and flogged and crucified. On the third day he will be raised to life!”

COMMENTARY

17 “Going up” does not necessarily mean that Jesus has left Perea, crossed the Jordan, passed through Jericho, and begun the ascent to Jerusalem; it had become customary to speak of “going up” to Jerusalem regardless of where one was in Palestine, as in England one “goes up” to London from every place except Oxford or Cambridge. We should, therefore, not be surprised to find Jesus still in Jericho (v.29). Before setting out for Jerusalem, doubtless to attend the festival, Jesus took the Twelve aside from the throngs of pilgrims choking the roads to Jerusalem at such times (see

). Only the Twelve were even remotely ready to hear this passion prediction.

18–19 Jerusalem was the focal point of Jewish worship. We are going there, Jesus says, because there the Son of Man will be betrayed and crucified. He will be “condemned”—his death will result from legal proceedings. Mention of the resurrection is brief (v.19) and apparently not understood (cf. Lk 18:34)—though in Matthew, the disciples’ misunderstanding is not spelled out as in Luke but exemplified by the succeeding story (vv.20–28), which Luke omits.

OVERVIEW

Luke parallels Matthew both before and after this pericope but omits it (cf. Mk 10:35–45). He has a somewhat similar account (Lk 22:24–30), but it is probably a different occasion. Carter (Matthew and the Margins, 399) demonstrates how vv.17–19 mesh nicely with these verses. Jesus’ death and resurrection hold the sections together, and the question of who is ruling, and what it means to rule, continues.

Again the question of rank returns (cf. 18:1–5). Despite Jesus’ repeated predictions of his passion, two disciples and their mother are still thinking about privilege, status, and power.

S. Légasse (“Approche de l’Épisode préévangélique des Fils de Zébédée [Mark x.35–40 par.],” NTS 20 [1974]: 161–77) represents those who discount the historicity of this narrative largely on the hypothesis that “cup” and “baptism” are theological symbols around which a fictional episode was woven to convey certain theological truths. Bultmann (History of the Synoptic Tradition, 24) goes further and says that even the “prospect” of James’s and John’s death could not have been implied until after their martyrdom. The grounds for such theorizing are slender indeed. Why cannot theologically loaded terms be used in a historical narrative? Bultmann’s critique reflects presuppositional antisupernaturalism in its most naive form. Jesus predicts his death (vv.17–19), and when two of his disciples ask for preferential treatment, it is entirely natural that he should ask them if they are prepared to face similar suffering and death (cf. 5:10–12; 10:37–39). Moreover, it is highly unlikely the church would invent a story so damaging to two of its leading apostles.

20Then the mother of Zebedee’s sons came to Jesus with her sons and, kneeling down, asked a favor of him.

21“What is it you want?” he asked.

She said, “Grant that one of these two sons of mine may sit at your right and the other at your left in your kingdom.”

22“You don’t know what you are asking,” Jesus said to them. “Can you drink the cup I am going to drink?”

“We can,” they answered.

23Jesus said to them, “You will indeed drink from my cup, but to sit at my right or left is not for me to grant. These places belong to those for whom they have been prepared by my Father.”

24When the ten heard about this, they were indignant with the two brothers. 25Jesus called them together and said, “You know that the rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their high officials exercise authority over them. 26Not so with you. Instead, whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant, 27and whoever wants to be first must be your slave—28just as the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.”

COMMENTARY

20 In Mark, John and James approach Jesus themselves; here, it is through their mother. Many find this historically improbable because in v.22 Jesus responds to her sons only. But the following points make the obvious synthesis plausible:

1. According to v.20, the mother and her sons approach Jesus, the implication being that all three are asking this favor, with the mother as the speaker.

2. This is confirmed by the other apostles’ indignation (v.24), showing that James and John as well as their mother were involved.

3. That the mother should be the one to approach Jesus becomes the more plausible if she is Jesus’ aunt on his mother’s side—not certain, but not unlikely (see

;

4. By adding the mother, Matthew cannot be shielding James and John. They still get the same response as in Mark. Matthew has no obvious theological motive for introducing their mother; he is simply recording a historical detail.

5. That the request should come from James and John, whether through their mother or not, accords with what we know of their aggressiveness (cf. Mk 9:38; Lk 9:54).

The “kneeling down” is not “worship” of deity but may imply homage to the one increasingly recognized as King Messiah (see

21 The “right hand” and “left hand” suggest proximity to the King’s person and so a share in his prestige and power. Such positions increase as the King is esteemed and has absolute power (cf. Pss 16:11; 45:9; 110:1; Mt 26:64; Ac 7:55–56; cf. Josephus, Ant. 6.235 [11.9]). Mark has “in your glory,” Matthew “in your kingdom.” Mark’s phrase clearly points to the Parousia, “when Jesus is enthroned as eschatological judge” (Lane, Mark, 379). Hill proposes that the “kingdom” in Matthew is the kingdom of Christ (13:41–43; 25:31–46), identified as the church; and the change from “glory” to “kingdom” therefore means that the original story is now being applied to competition for leadership in the church. But we have already seen that “kingdom” is never identified with “church” in Matthew (see

), and Christ’s kingdom is equivalent to the kingdom of heaven (13:41; 20:21; 25:31). Because the “kingdom” comes in stages, there is no substantial difference between Matthew and Mark. The kingdom here is the reign of Messiah at the consummation. The link with 19:28—a verse that speaks (cf. Gk.) of both “throne” and “glory”—is unmistakable. What the sons of Zebedee want and their mother asks for is that they might share in the authority and preeminence of Jesus Messiah when his kingdom is fully consummated—something they think to be near at hand without the cross or any inter-advent period.

22 The additional words “and to be baptized with the baptism that I am baptized with” (KJV)—and similarly in v.23—are almost certainly an assimilation to Mark 10:38–39. Jesus’ answer is not severe but mingles firmness with probing. It is often ignorance that seeks leadership, power, and glory; the brothers do not know what they are asking. To ask to reign with Jesus is to ask to suffer with him, and not only do they not know what they are asking for (cf. 10:37–39; Ro 8:17; 2Ti 2:12; Rev 3:21); they have as yet no clear perceptions of Jesus’ sufferings. To ask for worldly wealth and much honor is often to ask for anxiety, temptation, disappointment, and envy; in the spiritual arena, to ask for great usefulness and reward is often to ask for great suffering (cf. 2Co 11:23–33; Col 1:24; Rev 1:9). “We know not what we ask, when we ask for the glory of wearing the crown, and ask not for grace to bear the cross in our way to it” (Matthew Henry).

The “cup” (cf. 26:39) characteristically refers, in OT imagery, to judgment or retribution (cf. Ps 75:8; Isa 51:17–18; Jer 25:15–28). If the disciples grasped anything of Jesus’ passion predictions, they probably thought the language was partly hyperbolic (Jesus did use hyperbole elsewhere [e.g., 19:24]) and referred to the eschatological conflict during which Messiah’s side would suffer losses; but these could scarcely be too severe for one who could still storms and raise the dead. Thus, by their bold response, James and John betray their misunderstandings of the timing of the dawn of the kingdom in all its glory (cf. Lk 19:11), and equally of the uniqueness and redemptive significance of Jesus’ sufferings (cf. v.28) now imminent.

23 Jesus answers them first on their own terms before speaking of his own death as a ransom (v.28). In a sense, they can and will drink from his cup of suffering. James would become the first apostolic martyr (Ac 12:2), and John (if it is the same one) would suffer exile (Rev 1:9). But it is not Jesus’ role to determine who sits on his right hand and his left. Here, as elsewhere (see

;

;

; cf. Jn 14:28), Jesus makes it clear that his authority is a derived authority. These positions have already been assigned by the Father. Jesus cannot assign them at a mother’s request.

24–27 The indignation of the ten doubtless sprang less from humility than jealousy plus the fear that they might lose out. If these verses scarcely support egalitarianism—choice positions, after all, will be allotted—they demonstrate that interest in egalitarianism may mask a jealousy whose deepest wellsprings are not concern for justice but “enlightened self-interest.” The disciples revert to the squabbling of an earlier period (Mk 9:33–37; cf. Mt 18:1). Jesus calls them together and draws a contrast between greatness among ta ethnē (“pagans” or “Gentiles,” v.25) and greatness among heirs of the kingdom. The “pagans” or “Gentiles” who would spring to mind were Romans; power and authority characterized their empire. The NIV’s “lord it over” gives a false impression. Jesus is not criticizing abuse of power in political structures—the verb never has that meaning (cf. K. W. Clark, “The Meaning of [κατα] κυριεύειν,” in Studies in New Testament Language [ed. Elliott], 100–105) and should be translated “exercise lordship over,” parallel to “exercise authority over” in the next line—but insists that the very structures themselves cannot be transferred to relationships among his followers.

Greatness among Jesus’ disciples is based on service. Anyone who wants to be great must become the diakonos (“servant,” v.26, GK 1356) of all. Here diakonos does not mean “deacon” or “minister” (KJV) in the modern church use. One of the ironies of language is that a word like “minister,” which in its roots refers to a helper, one who “ministers,” has become a badge of honor and power in religion and politics. But lest the full force of his teaching be lost, Jesus repeats it in v.27 with the stronger word doulos (“slave,” GK 1528; cf. 1Co 9:19; 2Co 4:5). In the pagan world, humility was regarded not so much as a virtue but as a vice. Imagine a slave being given leadership! Jesus’ ethics of the leadership and power in his community of disciples are revolutionary.

28 At this point, Jesus presents himself—the Son of Man (see

)—as the supreme example of service to others. The verse is clearly important to our understanding of Jesus’ view of his death. Three related questions call for discussion.

1. Authenticity. Many reject the authenticity of v.28, or at least of v.28b (and, correspondingly, Mark 10:45; most recently, see McKnight, Jesus and His Death, 356–57), on the grounds that it ill suits the context, since Jesus’ atoning death cannot be imitated by his disciples, that nowhere else is he reported as speaking of his death in this way, and that the language reflects the influence of the Hellenistic church. On the contrary, the language has been shown to be Palestinian (Jeremias, Eucharistic Words, 179–82), and Jesus speaks of his death in not dissimilar terms when instituting the Lord’s Supper (26:26–29) and also in Luke 22:37, assuming that it relates to a different occasion. It is quite common in the NT, both in words ascribed to Jesus and elsewhere, to begin with the disciples’ need to die to self and end up with Jesus’ unique, atoning death as an ethical example—or, conversely, to begin with Jesus’ unique death and find it applied as an example to the disciples (16:21–28; Jn 12:23–25; Php 2:5–11; 1Pe 2:18–25). There are no substantial reasons for denying the authenticity of this saying (cf. S. H. T. Page, “The Authenticity of the Ransom Logion [Mark 10:45b],” in Gospel Perspectives [ed. France and Wenham], 1:137–61), and its nuances seem much more in keeping with the way Jesus progressively revealed himself (cf. Carson, “Christological Ambiguities”) than with a clear-cut, postresurrection apostolic confession.

2. Meaning. It is natural to take “did not come” as presupposing at least a hint of Jesus’ preexistence, though the language does not absolutely require it. He came not to be served, like a king dependent on countless courtiers and attendants, but to serve others. Stonehouse (Witness of Matthew, 251ff.; Origins, 187) rightly points out that the verse assumes that the Son of Man had every right to expect to be served, but he served instead. Implicit is a self-conscious awareness that the Son of Man who, because of his heavenly origin, possessed divine authority was the one who humbled himself, even to the point of undergoing an atoning death. The tripartite breakdown of the Son of Man references (see

, p. 247) is to this extent artificial. The display of divine glory shines most brightly when it is set aside for the sake of redeeming man by a shameful death. This stands at the very heart of Jesus’ self-disclosure and of the primitive gospel (1Co 1:23: “We preach Christ [Messiah] crucified”).

The Son of Man came to give his life as a ransom for many. Deissmann (Light from the Ancient East, 331–32) points out that lytron (“ransom,” GK 3389) was most commonly used as the purchase price for freeing slaves; there is good evidence that the notion of “purchase price” is always implied in the NT use of lytron (cf. Morris, Apostolic Preaching, 11ff.). Others, however, by examining the word in the LXX, conclude that, especially when the subject is God, the word means “deliverance” and the cognate verb “to deliver,” without reference to a “price paid” (cf. Hill, Greek Words, 58–80; McKnight, Jesus and His Death, 357). The matter may be difficult to decide in a passage like Titus 2:14. Is wickedness a chain from which Jesus by his death delivers us, or a slave owner from whom Jesus by his death ransoms us? The parallel in 1 Peter 1:18 suggests the latter, even though (as Turner, Christian Words, 105–7, insists) there is never any mention in the NT of the one to whom the price is paid, and in 20:28, this meaning is virtually assured by the use of anti (“for”). The normal force of this preposition denotes substitution, equivalence, exchange (cf. NIDNTT, 3:1179–80). “The life of Jesus, surrendered in a sacrificial death, brought about the release of forfeited lives. He acted on behalf of the many by taking their place” (ibid., 1180).

“The many” underlines the immeasurable effects of Jesus’ solitary death: the one dies, the many find their lives “ransomed, healed, restored, forgiven,” a great host no man can number (cf. J. Jeremias, “Das Lösegeld für Viele,” Judaica 3 [1948]: 263). But it should be remembered that “the many” can refer, in the Dead Sea Scrolls and the rabbinic literature, to the elect community (cf. Ralph Marcus, “‘Mebaqqer’ and Rabbim in the Manual of Discipline vi:11–13,” JBL 75 [1956]: 298–302). This suggests Jesus’ substitutionary death is payment for and results in the eschatological people of God. This well suits “the many” of Isaiah 52:13–53:12.

3. Dependence on Isaiah 53. C. K. Barrett (“The Background of Mark 10.45,” in New Testament Essays [ed. A. J. B. Higgins; Manchester: Manchester Univ. Press, 1959], 1–18; idem, “Mark 10.45: A Ransom for Many,” in New Testament Essays [London: SPCK, 1972], 20–26), Hooker (Son of Man, 140–47), and others have argued that there is no allusion to Isaiah in Mark 10:45 and Matthew 20:28. They argue this on two grounds: linguistic and conceptual. Linguistically, they point out that the Greek verb diakoneō (“I serve,” v.28) and its cognates are never used in the LXX to render ʿebed (“servant” of Isaiah’s “Servant Songs,” GK 6269) and its cognates. But the evidence is slight, and the conceptual parallels close—Isaiah’s Servant benefits people by his suffering, and so does Jesus. Hooker is certainly incorrect in restricting diakoneō to domestic service (cf. France, “Servant of the Lord,” 34). Both France and Moo (Old Testament in the Gospel Passion Narratives, 122–27) have also shown that “to give his life” springs from Isaiah 53:10, 12, and that lytron (“ransom”) is not as impossible a rendering of ʾāšām (“a guilt offering”) as some allege. The Hebrew word ʾāšām includes the notion of substitution, at least of an equivalent. The guilty sinner offers an ʾāšām to remove his own guilt; in Leviticus 5, ʾāšām refers to compensatory payment. Thus, though ʾāšām has more sacrificial overtones than lytron, both include the idea of payment or compensation. Most scholars have also recognized in “the many” a clear reference to Isaiah (cf. esp. Dalman, Jesus-Jeshua, 171–72). The implication of the cumulative evidence is that Jesus explicitly referred to himself as Isaiah’s Suffering Servant (see ) and interpreted his own death in that light—an interpretation in which Matthew has followed his Lord (see

;

Both Mark (10:45) and Matthew (here) tie their understanding of this verse not only to the immediate pericope but to their entire gospel narrative (see Bolt, Cross from a Distance, ch. 2).

NOTES

21 Compare this use of εἰπὲ ἵνα (eipe hina, “Grant that”) with the use in 4:3. “Command that” is the idea common to both. The mother believes Jesus need only say the word for it to be done.

28 For an interesting and extended gloss on this verse, see Metzger, Textual Commentary, 53.

OVERVIEW

Mark (10:46–52) and Luke (18:35–43) mention only one blind man, and Mark names him (Bartimaeus, 10:46); but Matthew habitually gives fuller details on numbers of persons (cf. 8:28). This story is not a doublet of 9:27–31, which stresses faith and ends with a command to be silent. It lacks those twin foci but has other purposes. It pictures Jesus still serving and again links his healing ministry with his death (v.28; see

). Moreover, it reminds us that the one going up to Jerusalem to give his life as a ransom for many is the Messiah, the Son of David, whose great power, used mercifully (v.30) and compassionately (v.34), is not used to save himself.

29As Jesus and his disciples were leaving Jericho, a large crowd followed him. 30Two blind men were sitting by the roadside, and when they heard that Jesus was going by, they shouted, “Lord, Son of David, have mercy on us!”

31The crowd rebuked them and told them to be quiet, but they shouted all the louder, “Lord, Son of David, have mercy on us!”

32Jesus stopped and called them. “What do you want me to do for you?” he asked.

33“Lord,” they answered, “we want our sight.”

34Jesus had compassion on them and touched their eyes. Immediately they received their sight and followed him.

COMMENTARY

29 Matthew and Mark say that Jesus was “leaving,” Luke that he was “entering,” Jericho. While there are several possible reasons for this, none is certain. Many “explanations” are inadequate: that Jesus healed one blind man on entering the town and two on leaving; that the healings occurred while Jesus was going “in and out”; that Jesus went through Jericho (Lk 19:1) without finding lodging and on his way out healed the blind men, met Zacchaeus, and returned to his place—so that Jesus’ “leaving” was really his “entering.” Calvin’s “conjecture,” followed by many, is that Jesus on his way into the city did not respond to the petitions of the blind men (perhaps in order to increase their faith; cf. 15:21–28) but healed them on his way out. Marshall (Gospel of Luke, 692–93) offers a literary explanation—namely, Luke made the change to accommodate the ensuing Zacchaeus story that takes place in Jericho and that Luke wants to place as a climax. One might have thought that Luke’s simpler course would have been to drop any mention of Jericho in this healing, since he gains nothing by it and his alteration brings him into conflict with Mark.

Many avoid geographical contradiction by noting that in this period there were two Jerichos—an older town on the hill, largely in ruins, and the new Herodian town about one mile away (cf. Josephus, J.W. 4.459 [8.3]). In this view, Matthew and Mark, under Jewish influence, mention the old town Jesus was leaving; Luke the Hellenist refers to the new one, which Jesus is entering. This may well be the explanation. But there is no certain evidence that the old town was still inhabited at this time, and we do not know the local names of the two sites.

Jericho was not only the home of Jesus’ ancestor Rahab (1:5) but was also a day’s journey from Jerusalem. The “large crowd” implies more than messianic excitement; it also reflects the multitudes of pilgrims from Galilee and elsewhere heading to Jerusalem for the feast.

30 The rather common suggestion that Matthew increases the number of blind men to two because two was the minimum number of witnesses for attesting Jesus’ messiahship is misguided. To experience the healings would not prove Jesus was the Messiah. He might simply be a prophet. On the other hand, if the miracle confirmed or promoted belief in Jesus’ messiahship, it might do so as easily for those who witnessed the miracle as for those who experienced it. The “large crowd” would have provided witnesses aplenty. The “two,” therefore, has no theological motivation but shows personal knowledge of the events. There may have been many blind people in the Jericho area; for the region produced large quantities of balsam, believed to be very beneficial for many eye defects (cf. Strabo, Geogr. 16.2.41). These two were sitting by the roadside, doubtless begging (Mark-Luke); hearing that Jesus was passing, they cried out, “Lord, Son of David, have mercy on us!” (in the most likely text; cf. Metzger, Textual Commentary, 53–54). On the title “Son of David” in relation to healing, see

31–34 Matthew’s account is simple but stresses that Jesus mercifully healed the men despite the opposition of the crowds (v.31) that, like the disciples (cf. 19:13–15), wanted to bask in his glory but not practice his compassion. After this healing, unlike 9:30, there is no command to be silent. That point in Jesus’ ministry has been reached when more public self-disclosure could not change the course of events. The two healed men joined the crowds following Jesus (20:34), pressing on to the Passover they expected and the cross they did not.

OVERVIEW

Alistair Wilson (When Will These Things Happen? 85–99) suggests that the first three pericopes of this chapter—the triumphal entry, the cleansing of the temple, and the cursing of the fig tree—depict incidents that are “prophetic acts” mirroring those of Hosea, Jeremiah, and Ezekiel. T. W. Manson (“The Cleansing of the Temple,” BJRL 33 [1951]: 271–82) suggests the feast in question is Tabernacles (autumn), not Dedication (winter) or Passover (spring). Because Jesus died at Passover, Manson spreads Matthew 21–28 (and parallels) over six months instead of six days. His view rests largely on the observation that figs do not usually appear on the trees around Jerusalem until June and September, which seems to rule out Passover (usually April) as the right period for 21:18–21. But figs are regularly found in Jericho much earlier—and sometimes also in Jerusalem—and Manson’s view introduces some difficult problems in the passion chronology.

For the moment we shall assume that this trip to Jerusalem occurred a few days before the Passover on which Jesus was crucified. Matthew does not mention the stay at Bethany (Jn 12:1–11), where Jesus arrived “six days before Passover,” probably Friday evening (at the beginning of the Sabbath) before Passion Week, and stayed there for Sabbath, entering Jerusalem on Sunday. Apparently Jesus went back and forth to Bethany throughout the week (21:17). (For a detailed chronology of Passion Week, see Hoehner, Chronological Aspects; on the question of authenticity, see Dhyanchand Carr, “Jesus, the King of Zion: A Traditio-Historical Enquiry into the So-called ‘Triumphal’ Entry of Jesus” [PhD diss., University of London, 1980], 128–218, 350–92.)

1As they approached Jerusalem and came to Bethphage on the Mount of Olives, Jesus sent two disciples, 2saying to them, “Go to the village ahead of you, and at once you will find a donkey tied there, with her colt by her. Untie them and bring them to me. 3If anyone says anything to you, tell him that the Lord needs them, and he will send them right away.”

4This took place to fulfill what was spoken through the prophet:

5“Say to the Daughter of Zion,

‘See, your king comes to you,

gentle and riding on a donkey,

on a colt, the foal of a donkey.’”

6The disciples went and did as Jesus had instructed them. 7They brought the donkey and the colt, placed their cloaks on them, and Jesus sat on them. 8A very large crowd spread their cloaks on the road, while others cut branches from the trees and spread them on the road. 9The crowds that went ahead of him and those that followed shouted,

“Hosanna to the Son of David!”

“Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!”

“Hosanna in the highest!”

10When Jesus entered Jerusalem, the whole city was stirred and asked, “Who is this?”

11The crowds answered, “This is Jesus, the prophet from Nazareth in Galilee.”

COMMENTARY

1–2 The Roman military road from Jericho to Jerusalem was about seventeen miles long and climbed three thousand feet. It passed through Bethany and nearby Bethphage (“house of figs”), which lay on the southeast slope of the Mount of Olives, then crossed over the mount and the Kidron Valley and entered Jerusalem (v.1). The mount itself stands about three hundred feet higher than the temple hill and about one hundred feet higher than the hill of Zion, affording a spectacular, panoramic view of the city.

Jesus sent two disciples (unnamed, but cf. Lk 22:8) ahead to Bethphage (for the grammar, cf. Grammar, 643–44) to fetch the animals (v.2). The distinguishing feature of the synoptic accounts, as opposed to John 12, is that Jesus arranged for the ride. The applause and the crowds were not manipulated; they would have occurred in any case. But the ride on a colt, because it was planned, could only be an acted parable, a deliberate act of symbolic self-disclosure for those with eyes to see or, after the resurrection, with memories by which to remember and integrate the events of the preceding weeks and years. Secrecy was being lifted.

3 “Lord” (also Mark-Luke) might mean “owner”; but then the disciples’ response would be untrue, unless Jesus owned the animals, which is extremely unlikely. The title might refer to Yahweh—the animals are needed in Yahweh’s service. But the most natural way to take “Lord” is Jesus’ way of referring to himself. This step is in keeping with the authority he has already claimed for himself and fits this late period of his ministry, when he revealed himself with increasing clarity. J. Gresham Machen (The Origin of Paul’s Religion [New York: Macmillan, 1928, 1947], 296–97) notes that even the church’s ascription of “Lord” to Jesus in a full christological sense finds its roots in Jesus’ self-references.

4–5 It is possible that Matthew presents these verses as having been spoken by Jesus. The perfect gegonen should then be translated, “This has taken place” (v.4), spoken somewhat proleptically because the order had been given (see

). The alternative is to take the verses as Matthew’s comment. This requires taking the perfect as either having aoristic force or meaning, “This stands as something that happened.” John’s statement that the disciples did not understand all this at the time (12:16) does not necessarily support the alternative, since Jesus said many things they did not understand at the time (cf. Jn 2:20–22).

A few MSS add “Zechariah” or “Isaiah” to “prophet,” doubtless because the quotation comes from both. The introductory words of the quotation are from Isaiah 62:11, and the rest from Zechariah 9:9. The omitted words “righteous and having salvation” (Zec 9:9) may be understood as implicitly included, or omitted because the chief stress is on Jesus’ humility (Stendahl, School of St. Matthew, 118–20).

The text form of the quotation (v.5) is disputed, but at least the latter parts depend directly on the MT (cf. Gundry, Use of the Old Testament, 120–21; Blomberg, “Matthew,” in CNTUOT). The last word, hypozygion, means a “beast of burden,” which in Palestine was usually a donkey. Such an animal was sometimes ridden by rulers in times of peace (Jdg 5:10; 1Ki 1:33; cf. Rev 19:11). Jews certainly understood Zechariah 9:9 to refer to the Messiah, often in terms of the Son of David (Str-B, 1:842–44; cf. Ham, Coming King, 47). Therefore, for those with eyes to see, Jesus was not only proclaiming his messiahship and his fulfillment of Scripture but showing the kind of peace-loving approach he was now making to the city.

Many scholars find difficulty with the fact that Matthew alone of the four evangelists mentions two animals—a donkey and her colt (vv.2, 7)—and only he cites the Hebrew text so fully that the unwary might think there were two animals. The Hebrew, of course, refers to only one beast. The last line is in parallelism with the next-to-the-last line and merely identifies the “donkey” (line 3) as a colt (a young male donkey). But it is quite unreasonable to suggest that Matthew, who demonstrably had a good command of Hebrew (cf. Gundry, Use of the Old Testament, 198), added the extra animal to fit a text he radically misunderstood (contra McNeile, Schniewind). Nor is it more reasonable to assume that Matthew knows there actually were two animals and quotes Zechariah because the prophet’s words might barely refer to two, for his Jewish readers would not likely be convinced. Still less likely is the appeal to unassimilated sources (cf. R. Bartnicki, “Das Zitat von Zach IX, 9–10 und die Tiere im Bericht von Matthäus über dem Einzug Jesu in Jerusalem (Mt XXI, 1–11),” NovT 18 [1976]: 161–66).

The most reasonable suggestion is that Mark’s “which no one has ever ridden” prompted Matthew to mention both animals (cf. Stendahl, School of St. Matthew, 118–20; Longenecker, Biblical Exegesis, 148–49). Gundry (Use of the Old Testament, 198–99) holds that Matthew witnessed the scene. Matthew’s reference to both animals is his way of highlighting what the other synoptists affirm—the animal Jesus rode on was “a colt.” If we assume that Matthew understood Hebrew, the full quotation affirms that Jesus rode on the “colt,” not its mother. Mark and Luke say the animal was so young that it had never been ridden. In the midst, then, of this excited crowd, an unbroken animal remains calm under the hands of the Messiah who controls nature (8:23–27; 14:22–32). Thus the event points to the peace of the consummated kingdom (cf. Isa 11:1–10). Though Matthew may have something of the same thing in mind, in addition he stresses that Jesus fulfills Scripture even in this detail—that the animal he rode was a colt. Without warrant is the appeal to Midrash, at least in its technical, fourth-century sense (see Introduction, ). Although Jewish midrashic writers occasionally give a separate meaning to each part of Hebrew parallelism (cf. examples in Carr, “Jesus, the King of Zion”), the continuity of the Midrash lies in the passage being expounded, not in the narrative explanations. But here the continuity lies in the narrative. Still less credible is the allegorizing of many of the Fathers, and even of J. P. Lange: the donkey symbolizes Jews accustomed to the yoke of the law, and the colt hitherto untamed Gentiles (“The old theocracy runs idly and instinctively by the side of the young church, which has become the true bearer of the divinity of Christ” [CHS, 372]).

6–8 The two disciples returned from their errand and put their cloaks (their outer garments; see

) on the beasts—both animals were in the procession (v.7). Jesus sat “on them.” Not a few critics take the antecedent of “them” to be the animals and ridicule the statement. But as Plummer remarks, “The Evangelist credits his readers with common sense.” The antecedent of “them” may be the cloaks, or the plural may be a “plural of category” (cf. “He sprang from the horses”; cf. Turner, Insights, 41; see

). Less convincing is appeal to very weak textual traditions: he sat on it or they sat him on it (thereon, KJV; cf. Broadus; BDF, para. 141).

A “very large crowd” (v.8, the Gk. superlative is merely elative; cf. Moule, Idiom Book, 98) spread their cloaks on the road, acknowledging Jesus’ kingship (cf. 2Ki 9:13). Still others “cut branches” and “spread them” (the Gk. imperfects make the action vivid) on the road. It has been argued that cutting down tree branches well suits the activities of the Feast of Tabernacles, when the people built “booths” to live in for the week (cf. Lev 23:41–42). But those “branches” were substantial boughs, big enough to support a lean-to; these “branches,” thrown before the animals, were not more than twigs. The somewhat parallel entrance of Simon Maccabaeus into Jerusalem (1 Macc 13:51; 2 Macc 10:7) does not depend on the season of the year but on the man.

9 Crowds ahead and behind may be incidental confirmation of two other details. First, John 12:12 speaks of crowds coming out of Jerusalem to meet Jesus. Apparently the Galilean pilgrims accompanying Jesus and the Jerusalem crowd coming out to greet him formed a procession of praise. Second, the fact that the Jerusalem crowds knew he was approaching supports the stopover in Bethany, which allows time for the news to spread. Messianic fervor was high, and perhaps this contributed to Jesus’ desire to present himself as the Prince of Peace.

The words of praise come primarily from Psalm 118:25–26. “Hosanna” transliterates the Hebrew expression that originally was a cry for help: “Save!” (cf. 2Sa 14:4; 2Ki 6:26). In time, it became an invocation of blessing and even an acclamation, the latter being the meaning here (cf. Gundry, Use of the Old Testament, 41–43). “Son of David” is messianic and stresses the kingly role Messiah was to play (cf. Mark, Luke, and John for explicit references to “kingdom” or “king”). “He who comes in the name of the Lord” is cited by Jesus himself a little later (23:39; cf. 3:11; 11:3), but some scholars object that if this phrase had been a messianic acclamation by the people, the authorities would have stepped in. The words, they say, must be a formula of greeting to pilgrims on the way to the temple.

Such an assessment betrays too stark an “either-or” mentality to weigh the evidence plausibly. “Son of David” in the previous line is unavoidably messianic, and the authorities do raise objections (v.16). But crowd sentiments are fickle. On the one hand, acclamation can rapidly dissipate, so instant action by the authorities was scarcely necessary; on the other hand, it is foolish to antagonize the crowd at the height of excitement (cf. 26:4–5, 16). “Hosanna in the highest” is probably equivalent to “Glory to God in the highest” (Lk 2:14). The people praise God in the highest heavens for sending the Messiah and, if “Hosanna” retains some of its original force, also cry to him for deliverance.

Two final reflections on this verse are necessary. First, Psalm 118 was not only used at the Feast of Tabernacles (m. Sukkah 4:5) but also at the other two major feasts, Dedication and Passover—at the latter as part of “the great Hallel” (Pss 113–18). The use of Psalm 118 is, therefore, no support for Manson’s suggestion (see

). Second, Walvoord’s interpretation stumbles badly: “They recognized that he was in the kingly line, although they do not seem to have entered into the concept that he was coming into Jerusalem as its King.” On the contrary, it is hard to think of the crowd’s making fine distinctions between “kingly line” and “king.” Moreover, one growing thrust of this gospel is, as we have seen, that even where Jesus was perceived, however dimly, as King Messiah, he was not perceived as Suffering Servant. In the expectations of the day, it was fairly easy for the crowd, after hearing Jesus’ preaching and seeing his miracles, to ascribe messiahship to him as much in their hope as in conviction. But it was far harder for them to grasp the inevitability of his suffering and death and the expansion of the “people of God” beyond the Jewish race.

10–11 Only Luke (19:41–44) pictures Jesus weeping over the city as he approaches it. Mark 11:11 establishes chronology; Matthew’s information stands alone. Jesus probably entered Jerusalem through what some now call Saint Stephen’s gate, near the north entrance to the outer court of the temple. As the city was stirred earlier (2:3), so here (21:10): news of Jesus’ presence is inevitably disturbing. “Who is this?” does not mean that Jesus was virtually unknown in Jerusalem, and so needed to be identified (Bonnard), but “Who really is this about whom there is so much excitement?” The answer of the crowds accurately reflects the historical setting. Many of his contemporaries saw him as a prophet (cf. 16:14; 21:46) “from Nazareth in Galilee”—his hometown and primary field of ministry respectively. The phrase probably also connotes surprise that a prophet should come from so unlikely a place (see

). In the light of the messianic acclamation (v.9), some may well have seen Jesus as the eschatological Prophet (Dt 18:15–18; cf. Jn 7:40, 52; Ac 3:22; 7:37), though there is no more than a hint of that here. Yet there is also no evidence that Matthew deprecates the people’s understanding as faulty, preferring “Son of God” (contra Kingsbury, 22, 88–89).

NOTES

3 Zerwick (Biblical Greek, para. 280) rightly points out that the verb ἐρεῖτε (ereite, lit., “you will say”; NIV, “tell”) is one of the rare instances when a future indicative in the NT has, pragmatically, imperatival force (apart from passages where the NT cites the LXX).

11 Note this use of ἀπό (apo, “from, “away from”) to denote place of origin instead of ἐκ (ek, “from,” “out from”; cf. BDF, para. 209 [3]).

OVERVIEW

Matthew is considerably more condensed than Mark (Mk 11:11–19; cf. Lk 19:45–48; Jn 2:13–22). Matthew omits, among other things, Mark’s more precise chronology, all mention of the habit of carrying merchandise through the temple courts, and reference to the Gentiles in the quotation from Isaiah 56:7. It is doubtful whether Matthew’s silence in any of these things reflects major theological motivation (but see

). Matthew focuses on the cleansing of the temple as the work of the Son of David (vv.9, 15) and as of as much messianic significance as any of Jesus’ miracles.

The great majority of contemporary scholars believe there was only one cleansing of the temple and debate about whether the synoptists or John put it at the right time in Jesus’ ministry. Although some argue that the event occurred early in Jesus’ ministry (John), more side with the Synoptics in placing it late. Certainly we have ample evidence that the evangelists arranged some materials topically; yet there are, in this instance, numerous reasons for the possibility, indeed the likelihood, of two separate cleansings—something most commentators never seriously consider. France’s (NICNT) “The suggestion ... that it happened twice is about as probable as that the Normandy landings took place both at the beginning and the end of the Second World War” sacrifices a meaningful analogy for a sly chuckle. No one suggests the Normandy landings took place only at the beginning of that war, though quite a few think the temple cleansing took place only at the beginning of Jesus’ ministry. No one thinks the Normandy landings occurred twice; historically, many Christian thinkers have held there were two cleansings, and a ridiculous (if funny) analogy does not interact seriously with their arguments.

1. Leon Morris (John, 288ff.) has shown the striking differences between the details John provides and those the Synoptics provide. If there was but one cleansing, some of these differences became surprising; if there were two cleansings, they became quite reasonable.

2. Those who hold that John’s placing of the cleansing is topical usually assume that he does so to lead up to the saying, “Destroy this temple, and I will raise it again in three days” (Jn 2:19), part of his “replacement” theme—namely, that Jesus himself replaces much of the Jewish cultic milieu. But this view fails to provide any reason for shifting the temple’s cleansing so as to make it an early theme in Jesus’ ministry. Moreover, in this particular case, the temple replacement theme is reflected in the trial of Jesus in two of the Synoptics (Mt 26:61; Mk 14:58). Indeed, the fact that the witnesses regarding Jesus’ “destroy this temple” utterance, which is tied to the cleansing in John 2 but not to the cleansing in Holy Week, could not get their stories straight (Mk 14:59) makes sense if they were trying to recall something two or three years earlier rather than two or three days earlier.

3. If the Synoptics fail to mention the earlier cleansing, this may go back to their omission of Jesus’ entire early Judean ministry.

4. Some hold that if Jesus had inaugurated his ministry by cleansing the temple, the authorities would not have let him do it a second time. But two or three years have elapsed. The money changers and merchants, protected by the temple police, doubtless returned the day after the first cleansing. But it is doubtful that tight security would have been kept up for months and years. This second cleansing took a few dramatic minutes and could not have been prevented, and its prophetic symbolism quickly spread throughout Jerusalem.

5. It is difficult to tell from the Gospels how much the cleansing(s) of the temple contributed to official action against Jesus, and to overstate the evidence is easy. But a second cleansing as Passover drew near was far more likely to have led to the authorities’ violent reaction than the first one.

12Jesus entered the temple area and drove out all who were buying and selling there. He overturned the tables of the money changers and the benches of those selling doves. 13“It is written,” he said to them, “‘My house will be called a house of prayer,’ but you are making it a ‘den of robbers.’”

14The blind and the lame came to him at the temple, and he healed them. 15But when the chief priests and the teachers of the law saw the wonderful things he did and the children shouting in the temple area, “Hosanna to the Son of David,” they were indignant.

16“Do you hear what these children are saying?” they asked him.

“Yes,” replied Jesus, “have you never read,

“‘From the lips of children and infants

you have ordained praise’?”

17And he left them and went out of the city to Bethany, where he spent the night.

COMMENTARY

12 Jesus entered the hieron (“temple area,” GK 2639). Temple service required provision to be made for getting what was needed for the sacrifices—animals, wood, oil, etc.—especially for pilgrims from afar. The money changers converted the standard Greek and Roman currency into temple currency, in which the half-shekel temple tax had to be paid (cf. 17:24–27). (For some of the customs and regulations, cf. m. Šeqal.; Edersheim, Life and Times, 1:367–74.) But letting these things go on at the temple site transformed a place of solemn worship into a market where the hum of trade mingled with the bleating and cooing of animals and birds. Moreover, especially on the great feasts, opportunities for extortion abounded. Jesus drove the lot out.

13 Jesus here refers to Scripture, much as he did when confronted by the devil (4:1–10). His first words are from Isaiah 56:7. Isaiah looked forward to a time when the temple would be called a house of prayer. But now, at the dawn of the messianic age, Jesus finds a “den of robbers.” The words come from Jeremiah 7:11, which warns against the futility of superstitious reverence for the temple, compounded with wickedness that dishonors it. This suggests that the Greek lēstai (“robbers,” GK 3334) should be given its normal meaning of “nationalist rebel” (see ). The temple was meant to be a house of prayer, but they had made it “a nationalist stronghold” (cf. C. K. Barrett, “The House of Prayer and the Den of Thieves,” in Jesus und Paulus [ed. Ellis and Grässer], 16).

The point is even clearer in Mark, who retains “house of prayer for all nations” (Isa 56:7 uses the longer form once, and the shorter one once). The temple was not fulfilling its God-ordained role as witness to the nations but had become, like the first temple, the premier symbol of a superstitious belief that God would protect and rally his people, irrespective of their conformity to his will. The temple would therefore be destroyed (vv.18–22; 24:2). Matthew does not omit “for all nations” because he writes after the temple has been destroyed and, therefore, recognizes the promise in Isaiah is no longer capable of fulfillment. Even Mark knows that the temple cannot stand and that this temple could never become a rallying place “for all nations.” The omission may simply be for conciseness, but it shifts the contrast from “temple mission–nationalist stronghold” (Mark) to “house of prayer–nationalist stronghold” (Matthew)—a shift that focuses attention more on spiritual neglect and mistaken political priorities than on neglect of what the temple was really for. These are the things Jesus denounces.

The Lord whom the people see now comes to his temple (Mal 3:1). Purification of Jerusalem and the temple was part of Jewish expectation (cf. Pss. Sol. 17:30). So for those with eyes to see, Jesus’ action was one of self-disclosure and an implicit claim to eschatological authority over the Holy Place. That the purification would entail destruction and building a new temple (Jn 2:19–22) none but Jesus could yet foresee.

14 Verses 14–15 are found only in Matthew. Not only is v.14 the last mention of Jesus’ healing ministry, but it takes place en tō hierō (“at the temple [site]”) and probably within the temple precincts in the Court of the Gentiles. It was not uncommon for the chronically ill to beg at the approaches to the temple (Ac 3:2), but where the lame, blind, deaf, or otherwise disabled could go in the temple area was restricted. The Court of the Gentiles was open to them all, and there were even crippled priests. But restrictions were imposed when the disability required certain kinds of cushions, pads, or supports that might introduce “uncleanness” (cf. Jeremias, Jerusalem, 117–18).

Most Jewish authorities forbade any person who was lame, blind, deaf, or mute from offering a sacrifice, from “appearing before Yahweh in his temple.” The Qumran covenanters wanted to go further and exclude all cripples from the congregation, the messianic battle, and the messianic banquet (1QSa 2:5–22; 1QM 7:4–5). But Jesus heals them, thus showing that “one greater than the temple is here” (12:6). He himself cannot be contaminated, and he heals and makes clean those who come into contact with him. These two actions—cleansing the temple and the healing miracles—jointly declare his superiority over the temple (Heil, “Significant Aspects of the Healing Miracles,” 283–84) and raise the question of the source of his authority (v.23).

15–16 The “chief priests and the teachers of the law” (see

; ) express indignation, not so much at what he has done, as at the acclamation he is receiving for it. The children cry out, “Hosanna to the Son of David” (see

), and if Jesus is prepared to accept such praise, then “the wonderful things” he is doing must have messianic significance. When challenged, Jesus supports the children by quoting Psalm 8:2, introducing it with his “have you never read” (v.16), which exposes the theological ignorance of the Scripture experts (cf. 12:3; 19:4; 21:42; 22:31). God has ordained praise for himself from “children and infants” (lit., “infants and sucklings”—nursing sometimes continued among the Jews to the age of three: cf. 2 Macc 7:27). Jesus’ answer is a masterstroke and simultaneously accomplishes three things.

1. It provides some kind of biblical basis for letting the children go on with their exuberant praise and thus stifles, for the moment, the objections of the temple leaders.

2. At the same time, thoughtful persons, reflecting on the incident later (especially after the resurrection), perceive that Jesus was saying much more. The children’s “Hosannas” are not being directed to God but to the Son of David, the Messiah. Jesus is therefore not only acknowledging his messiahship but justifying the praise of the children by applying to himself a passage of Scripture applicable only to God (see Notes).

3. The quotation confirms that the humble perceive spiritual truths more readily than the sophisticated (cf. 19:13–15). The children have picked up the cry of the earlier procession and, lacking inhibitions and skepticism, enthusiastically repeat the chant, arriving at the truth more quickly than those who think themselves wise and knowledgeable.

17 During the festivals Jerusalem was crowded. So Jesus spent his last nights at Bethany, on a spur of the eastern slopes of the Mount of Olives (cf. Mk 11:19; Lk 21:37). The home where he stayed was probably that of Mary, Martha, and Lazarus.

NOTES

16 Part of the interpretation given above depends on the view that Psalm 8 is not messianic. This is almost certainly the case. Even application of Psalm 8:5–7 to Jesus in 1 Corinthians 15:27; Hebrews 2:6–8 is due, not to the psalm’s messianic character, but to Jesus’ role in introducing humanity to the heights God designed for it, as most expositors now acknowledge. The treatment of Psalm 8 as messianic by ancient Jewish authorities in the Targum on Psalm 8 (cf. F. J. Maloney, “The Targum on Psalm 8 and the New Testament,” Salesianum 37 [1975]: 326–36) almost certainly postdates the NT.

OVERVIEW

This story is found only here and in Mark, where it is split into two parts (11:12–14, 20–26), with the temple’s cleansing in between. Chronologically, Mark is more detailed. If the triumphal entry was on Sunday, then, according to Mark, the cursing of the fig tree was on Monday, and the disciples’ surprise at the tree’s quick withering, along with Jesus’ words about faith, were on Tuesday. Matthew has simply put the two parts together in a typical topical arrangement. He leaves indistinct (v.20) the time when the disciples saw the withered fig tree, though he implies it was the same day. Compare the condensation in 9:18–25.

While William R. Telford (The Barren Temple and the Withered Tree [Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1980]) admirably surveys earlier studies, his own is less helpful. The idea that “this mountain” (v.21) refers to the temple, thus making the cursing of the fig tree a sign of the temple’s doom, is unlikely. More probably it refers to the Mount of Olives as a sample of any mountain. Telford’s exhaustive examination of the uses of “fig tree” as a metaphor does no more than show that “fig tree” could be applied metaphorically to many different things, but only the context of each occurrence of the metaphor is determinative. Still less convincing is the view that this story is a mere dramatization of the parable in Luke 13:6–9 (so van der Loos, Miracles of Jesus, 692–96); apart from the question of whether such “historicization” of parabolic material ever occurs, the latter treats delay in judgment, whereas the present passage is concerned with imminent judgment.

It is commonly held that vv.20–22 and the corresponding Markan material is a separate tradition unrelated to the original. Preferable is the view that the awkward transition reflects the historical chronology, which Mark preserved. Cursing the fig tree is, then, an acted parable related to cleansing the temple and conveying a message about Israel. But when the next day the disciples see how quickly the fig tree has withered, their initial—and shallow—response is to wonder how it was done—and this leads to Jesus’ remarks on faith. So this single historical event teaches two theological lessons.

18Early in the morning, as he was on his way back to the city, he was hungry. 19Seeing a fig tree by the road, he went up to it but found nothing on it except leaves. Then he said to it, “May you never bear fruit again!” Immediately the tree withered.

20When the disciples saw this, they were amazed. “How did the fig tree wither so quickly?” they asked.

21Jesus replied, “I tell you the truth, if you have faith and do not doubt, not only can you do what was done to the fig tree, but also you can say to this mountain, ‘Go, throw yourself into the sea,’ and it will be done. 22If you believe, you will receive whatever you ask for in prayer.”

COMMENTARY

18–19 Somewhere on the road between Bethany and Jerusalem, Jesus approached a fig tree in the hope of assuaging his hunger. Mark tells us that though it was not the season for figs, the tree was in leaf. Fig leaves appear about the same time as the fruit or a little after. The green figs are edible, though sufficiently disagreeable as not usually to be eaten till June. Thus the leaves normally point to every prospect of fruit, even if not fully ripe. Sometimes, however, the green figs fall off and leave nothing but leaves. All this Matthew’s succinct remark—“He ... found nothing on it except leaves” (v.19)—implies; his Jewish readers would infer the rest. This understanding of the text confirms the chronology established at vv.1–11. If these events took place at Dedication, when figs were plentiful, not only would Mark’s explicit statement be incorrect (11:13), but in both Matthew and Mark, Jesus’ cursing of the tree would be harder to understand, for if he was hungry, he could simply go to the next tree.

Many commentators think otherwise and suppose that by omitting Mark’s statement, “it was not the season for figs,” Matthew has eliminated a moral difficulty. Why should Jesus curse a tree for not bearing fruit when it was not the season for fruit? But this theory misses the point. That it was not the season for figs explains why Jesus went to this particular tree, which stood out because it was in leaf. Its leaves advertised that it was bearing, but the advertisement was false. Jesus, unable to satisfy his hunger, saw an opportunity to teach a memorable object lesson and cursed the tree, not because it was not bearing fruit, whether in season or out, but because it made a show of life that promised fruit, yet was bearing none.

Most scholars interpret the cursing of the fig tree as a symbolic cursing of the people of Israel for failing to produce faith and righteousness, as evidenced primarily in their attitude to Jesus. The fig tree, then, becomes akin to the imagery of the vine in Isaiah 5:1–7 or the figs in Jeremiah 8:13; 24:1–8: sterility, the absence of fruit, or bad fruit—all lead to judgment. Walvoord objects, insisting there is no place in the Bible where a fig tree serves as a type of Israel (Jeremiah 24:1–8 is dismissed because the good and bad figs refer to captives versus those who remain in the land). The gospel pericope is a lesson on faith and the miraculous, no more. But if the common interpretation will not stand, Walvoord’s reductionism cannot withstand close scrutiny either.

1. Mark’s arrangement of the material, with the temple’s cleansing sandwiched between the two parts, must be taken into account. Even Matthew, who condenses Mark’s arrangement and eliminates the division of the pericope into two, places this immediately after the cleansing of the temple and right before the questioning of Jesus’ authority. We have learned to respect Matthew’s arrangement of pericopes enough to see them as linked; therefore, to read vv.18–22 as nothing more than a lesson on faith forfeits the obvious links.

2. Jeremiah 24:1–8 may provide a closer parallel than Walvoord thinks, for even in the Gospels Jesus is not saying that all Jews fall under whatever curse this may be; after all, his disciples at this point in history were all Jews. In the Synoptics, as in Jeremiah, there is a division between Jew and Jew.

3. Yet even if Jeremiah 24:1–8 is not very close a parallel, one cannot make too much of the fig tree’s not being a type of Israel, for one could similarly argue that there is no other example in the Bible of Jesus’ performing a miracle simply to teach faith, without there being some organic connection with the narrative.

This does not mean the common interpretation—that the fig tree represents Israel, cursed for not bearing fruit—is correct. In light of the discussion on the relation between leaves and fruit, Jesus is cursing those who make a show of bearing much fruit but are spiritually barren. This has four advantages.

1. It deftly handles both Mark and Matthew on the fig tree and its leaves.

2. It directs the attack against the hypocrites among the Jewish people, a constant target in all four gospels but especially in Matthew (e.g., 6:2, 5, 16; 7:5; 15:7; 22:18; and we now approach 23:1–39!).

3. It is compatible with the cleansing of the temple, which criticizes, not the Jewish children and their praise, or the Jewish blind and lame who came to be healed (vv.14–15), but those who used the temple to make a large profit and those who stifled the children’s praises of Messiah. These, like this leafy fig tree, Jesus finds full of advertised piety without any fruit—and them he curses.

4. Unlike other passages (3:9; 8:11–12), there is no mention of something being taken from the Jews and given to Gentiles. The cursing of the fig tree is an acted parable cursing hypocrites, not Jews or Judaism.

The cursing of the fig tree is not so far out of character for Jesus as some would have us believe. The same Jesus exorcised demons so that two thousand pigs were drowned (8:28–34), drove the animals and money changers out of the temple precincts with a whip, and says not a little about the torments of hell. Perhaps the fact that the two punitive miracles—the swine and the fig tree—are not directed against people should teach us something of Jesus’ compassion. He who is to save his people from their sin and its consequences resorts to prophetic actions not directed against his people, in order to warn them of the binding power of the devil (the destruction of the swine) and of God’s enmity against all hypocritical piety (the cursing of the fig tree).

20–22 Though it is uncertain whether v.20 is a question or an exclamation (cf. Moule, Idiom Book, 207), the effect is the same. The substance of Jesus’ response has already been given in 17:20, which implies that the figure of a mountain cast into the sea was common in Jesus’ teaching. Here, however, attention shifts “from the smallest effective amount of faith to the opposition of faith to doubt” (Hill). The miracle Jesus selects to teach the power of faith—throwing a mountain into the sea (v.21)—is no more than a hyperbolic example of a miracle. But because the Dead Sea can be seen from the Mount of Olives, some have suggested an allusion to Zechariah 14:4 (Lane, Mark, 410)—namely, what the disciples must pray for is the coming eschatological reign. This seems unlikely, for Zechariah speaks of the splitting of the Mount of Olives rather than its removal into the sea.

Jesus used the fig tree to teach the power of believing prayer, an extrapolation on the theme of faith, the lesson just taught by the immediate withering of the fig tree. But belief in the NT is never reduced to forcing oneself to “believe” what he does not really believe. Instead it is related to genuine trust in God and obedience to and discernment of his will (see

; cf. D. A. Carson, The Farewell Discourse and Final Prayer of Jesus [Grand Rapids: Baker, 1980], 43, 108–11). Though exercised by the believer, such faith reposes on the will of the God who acts.

NOTES

19 Μίαν (mian, lit., “one”) here has the force of enclitic τίς (tis, “a certain,” “a”); see

;

; cf. 19:16; 21:24; BDF, para. 247 (2).

OVERVIEW

This long section (21:23–22:46) is characterized by a number of controversies with various Jewish leaders, along with several parables that must be interpreted in the light of such controversies. In Mark’s chronology, these controversies apparently took place on Tuesday, the third day of Passion Week. It was customary to stop well-known teachers and ask them questions (cf. 22:16, 23, 35), and the crowds delighted in these exchanges. Eventually Jesus turned primarily to the crowds and addressed them without excluding the Pharisees and teachers of the law (ch. 23); then, as evening fell, he retired to the Mount of Olives and gave his last “discourse” to his disciples (chs. 24–25).

OVERVIEW

In the first exchange between Jesus and various Jewish leaders (vv.23–27), Matthew follows Mark (11:27–33) fairly closely (cf. Lk 20:1–8).

23Jesus entered the temple courts, and, while he was teaching, the chief priests and the elders of the people came to him. “By what authority are you doing these things?” they asked. “And who gave you this authority?”

24Jesus replied, “I will also ask you one question. If you answer me, I will tell you by what authority I am doing these things. 25John’s baptism—where did it come from? Was it from heaven, or from men?”

They discussed it among themselves and said, “If we say, ‘From heaven,’ he will ask, ‘Then why didn’t you believe him?’ 26But if we say, ‘From men’—we are afraid of the people, for they all hold that John was a prophet.”

27So they answered Jesus, “We don’t know.”

Then he said, “Neither will I tell you by what authority I am doing these things.”

COMMENTARY

23 Jesus’ teaching takes place in the “temple courts,” probably in one of the porticos surrounding the Court of the Gentiles. The chief priests were high temple functionaries, elevated members of the priestly aristocracy who were part of the Sanhedrin (see

); the elders were in this case probably nonpriestly members of the Sanhedrin, heads of the most influential lay families (cf. Jeremias, Jerusalem, 222ff.). In other words, representative members of the Sanhedrin, described in terms of their clerical status rather than their theological positions (e.g., Sadducees and Pharisees), approached Jesus and challenged his authority to do “these things”—namely, the cleansing of the temple, the miraculous healings, and perhaps also his teaching (v.23). Their first question was not narrowly theological but concerned Jesus’ authority; yet their concern in asking who gave him this authority (cf. Ac 4:7) sprang less from a desire to identify him than from a desire to stifle and perhaps ensnare him.

24–26 Jesus’ reply is masterful. He responds to their question with a question of his own, a common enough procedure in rabbinic debate (cf. Daube, New Testament and Rabbinic Judaism, 151–55). “John’s baptism” (v.25) is a way of referring to the Baptist’s entire ministry (cf. v.25b and the reference to believing John, not simply being baptized by him). Jesus asks whether that ministry was from heaven or from men. He does not raise this question as a simple rebuke—as if to say that if the authorities cannot make up their minds about John, neither will they be able to do so about him. His question is far more profound. If the religious authorities rightly answer it, they will already have the correct answer to their own question. If they respond, “From heaven,” then they are morally bound to believe John—and John pointed to Jesus (see

; cf. Jn 1:19, 26–27; 3:25–30). They would, therefore, have their answer about Jesus and his authority. If they respond, “From men” (v.26), they offer the wrong answer—but they will not dare utter it for fear of the people. The religious authorities share Herod’s timidity (14:5).

Far from avoiding the religious leaders’ question, Jesus answers it so that the honest seeker of truth, unswayed by public opinion, will not fail to see who he is, while those interested only in snaring him with a captious question are blocked by a hurdle their own shallow pragmatism forbids them to cross. At the same time, Jesus’ question rather strongly hints to the rulers that their false step goes back to broader issues than Jesus’ identity. If they cannot discern Jesus’ authority, it is because their previous unbelief has blinded their minds to God’s revelation.

27 “We don’t know,” they said—which is not so much a lie as a misrepresentation of the categories that bound them in public indecision. Their equivocation gave Jesus a reason for refusing to answer their question. Rejection of revelation already given is indeed a slender basis on which to ask for more. In one sense, the Sanhedrin enjoyed not only the right but the duty to check the credentials of those who claimed to be spokesmen for God. But because they misunderstood the revelation already given in the Scriptures and rejected the witness of the Baptist, the leaders proved unequal to their responsibility. They raised the question of Jesus’ authority; he raised the question of their competence to judge such an issue.

OVERVIEW

This is the first of three parables by which Jesus rebukes not only the Jewish leaders but all members of the Jewish nation who do not receive God’s Messiah (vv.28–32, 33–46; 22:1–14; cf. Wesley G. Olmstead, Matthew’s Trilogy of Parables: The Nation, the Nations and the Reader in Matthew 21.28–22.14 [SNTSMS 127; Cambridge: Cambridge Univ. Press, 2003]). The first and third of these are peculiar to Matthew. There is no convincing evidence that this first parable is only a variation of Luke 15:11–32. Helmut Merkel (“Das Gleichnis von den ‘ungleichen Söhnen,’” NTS 20 [1974]: 254–61) argues that the entire parable is inauthentic, but his approach—isolating, sometimes on doubtful grounds, Matthew’s redaction and wondering if enough of the parable is left for us to posit an authentic core—is so one-sided that few follow it. It is much more common to deny the authenticity of v.32 (e.g., Strecker, Weg der Gerechtigkeit; 153; Ogawa, “Paraboles de l’Israël véritable?” 121ff.), or of the last clause of v.32 (van Tilborg, Jewish Leaders, 52–54). Jeremias (Parables of Jesus, 80–81) argues for the authenticity of the whole.

That the verb metamelomai (“change one’s mind,” GK 3564) occurs in the Synoptics only in Matthew (vv.29, 32; 27:3) is scarcely evidence against authenticity (so Strecker) because (1) the figures are so low (three occurrences) as to be statistically useless—one might as cogently argue that the verse is Pauline since Paul uses the verb once; (2) its use in this parable (v.29) might as easily suggest the entire parable is traditional; and (3) even if the language is Matthean—and the evidence is not conclusive either way—such considerations are not themselves conclusive concerning content (see Introduction, ). The entire parable makes excellent sense in context; indeed, van Tilborg (Jewish Leaders, 47–52) has convincingly argued that all three parables belong together as a block, even if Matthew has tightened the connections. This supports the view that 21:23–22:46 constitutes a block of confrontations and warnings that took place on the one occasion (see

28“What do you think? There was a man who had two sons. He went to the first and said, ‘Son, go and work today in the vineyard.’

29“‘I will not,’ he answered, but later he changed his mind and went.

30“Then the father went to the other son and said the same thing. He answered, ‘I will, sir,’ but he did not go.

31“Which of the two did what his father wanted?”

“The first,” they answered.

Jesus said to them, “I tell you the truth, the tax collectors and the prostitutes are entering the kingdom of God ahead of you. 32For John came to you to show you the way of righteousness, and you did not believe him, but the tax collectors and the prostitutes did. And even after you saw this, you did not repent and believe him.”

COMMENTARY

28 The particular wording “What do you think?” is distinctively Matthean (17:25–18:12; 22:17). The parable is introduced without any preamble other than the question. The normal way to take prōtō (“first”) and heterō (“other,” v.30; some MSS, deuterō, “second”) in this context is “older” and “younger” son respectively (Derrett, Studies in the New Testament, 1:78).

29–31 The last point has a useful bearing on the complex textual problem in these verses. The evidence is neatly set out by Metzger (Textual Commentary, 55–56), along with some useful bibliography (cf. Derrett, Studies in the New Testament, 1:76ff.). When the textual evidence is sifted, three choices remain.

1. The older son says no but repents and goes; the second son says yes but does nothing. Who performs the father’s will? The first.

2. The older son says yes but does nothing; the second son says no but repents and goes. Who performs the father’s will? The younger, or the latter, or the second.

3. The older son says no but repents and goes; the second son says yes but does nothing. Who performs the father’s will? The latter.

Clearly 3 is the hardest reading; and from the time of Jerome, some have defended it for precisely that reason (e.g., J. Wellhausen, Das Evangelium Matthaei [Berlin: Reimer, 1904]). But not only is this reading weakly attested (Jerome knew of some Greek MSS supporting it, but only versional evidence remains today); it is either nonsensical, or else we must say the Jews are represented as perversely giving a farcical answer to avoid the application to themselves. This is not very convincing. If we do not adopt the position of Westcott and Hort, who suggest that a primitive textual error lies behind all extant copies, we must choose between 1 and 2. Many choose 1—as the NIV—largely on the grounds that it has somewhat better external attestation than 2 and that the change from 1 to 2 can easily be envisaged. For one thing, if the first son actually went, the second might not be necessary. Also, it was natural to identify the older son with the disobedient one and the younger son with the obedient one, once the interpretation of the Fathers was widely adopted—namely, that the disobedient son stands for the Jew (who chronologically came first), and the obedient son stands for Gentile sinners. The first of these two arguments is irrelevant. There is nothing whatsoever to suggest that only one son was needed in the vineyard. The second argument is, by itself, more convincing, but it needs to face another possibility.

Derrett has shown that in the world of Jesus’ day, option 2 is psychologically far more natural. The older son is somewhat pampered and favored because he is the heir, whereas the younger son is sullen and resentful but has to go out of his way to prove himself to his father. The change from 2 to 1 may have occurred if copyists supposed that in this context the father stands for John the Baptist (so, e.g., Jeremias, Parables of Jesus), whom tax collectors and prostitutes, open sinners, first denied and then believed. The evidence does not admit of certain resolution, but perhaps the balance of probabilities slightly favors the NASB (option 2 rather than the NIV).

Either way the story is fairly straightforward. Metamelomai (“changed his mind,” v.29) may or may not be followed by change of purpose in the NT, unlike metanoeō (“repent,” GK 3566). For the first time, Jesus openly makes a personal application of one of his parables to the Jewish leaders. “I tell you the truth” (v.31; see

), he solemnly begins, “the tax collectors and the prostitutes enter the kingdom of God—and you do not”—for so the verb proagō (GK 4575) must be translated here, rather than “are entering ... ahead of you” (NIV; cf. Jeremias, Parables of Jesus, 101 n. 54; TDNT, 8:105 n. 158; BDF, para. 245a [3]).

The shock value of Jesus’ statement can be appreciated only when the low esteem in which tax collectors were held (see

), not to mention prostitutes, is taken into account. In our day of soft pornography in the media, we are not shocked by “prostitutes.” But Jesus is saying that the scum of society, though it says no to God, repents, performs the Father’s will, and enters the kingdom, whereas the religious authorities loudly say yes to God but never do what he says, and therefore they fail to enter. Their righteousness is not enough (cf. 5:20). Thus the parable makes no distinction between Jew and Gentile but between religious leader and public sinner.

32 This verse links the parable to the preceding pericope, where the importance of believing John has already been established (vv.23–27). John pointed the way to the kingdom (11:12), which sinners are now entering (v.31). The NIV interprets v.32 in much the same way; strictly speaking, though, the Greek text says, “John came to you in the way of righteousness,” not “John came to show you the way of righteousness.” This probably means that John came preaching God’s will about what was right (cf. “the way of God,” 22:16; see Przybylski, Righteousness in Matthew, 94–96). But in Matthew’s thought, John’s preaching includes the demand for ethical reformation in light of the imminent coming of the kingdom (cf. 3:2–3). In this way John pointed to Jesus and the kingdom’s superior righteousness (5:20). But the religious leaders did not believe John’s witness, even after seeing society’s vilest sinners repenting and believing him and his message.

NOTES

32 Hill (Greek Words, 124–25), Przybylski (Righteousness in Matthew, 94–96), and others rightly insist that δικαιοσύνη (dikaiosynē, “righteousness,” GK 1466) in Matthew means “righteousness that is practiced,” “performing the will of God.” But this does not necessarily mean that practicing righteousness in itself gains entrance into the kingdom, for if Matthew says that John taught men to repent, he equally makes clear that John’s ministry pointed to Jesus and the kingdom. If John is believed, men are led to Jesus. “Righteousness” or, better, “doing what is right, in accordance with the Father’s will,” includes not merely ethics narrowly conceived but believing Jesus and welcoming him as Messiah. The Father’s will focuses on Jesus (11:25–27), who comes not only to set an example but to give his life as a ransom for many (20:28) and to inaugurate the new covenant in his blood (26:27–28). Word studies on “righteousness” by Hill and Przybylski, sound as they are, must not blind us to the larger themes in Matthew with which “righteousness” is inextricably connected.

OVERVIEW

This parable has long been a battleground for complex debate. It is marginally easy to account for synoptic differences (cf. Mk 12:1–12; Lk 20:9–19) by postulating both a Markan and a Q recension, but this is by no means certain (see

and

On the face of it, the parable continues to make a statement against the Jewish religious authorities and others in the nation of Israel who reject Jesus. The metaphorical equivalences are obvious: the landowner is God, the vineyard Israel, the tenants the leaders of the nation, the servants the prophets, and the son is Jesus Messiah. Such obvious metaphors have troubled many scholars, who detect late “allegorizing,” which, they judge, could not have been part of the original parable but belongs only to the church’s interpretation of it.

The reconstructed parable is, therefore, given other interpretations (cf. Jeremias, Parables of Jesus, 76; Dodd, Parables of the Kingdom, 124–32) so far removed from the texts as we have them that others have despaired of reconstructing the original. W. G. Kümmel (“Das Gleichnis von den bösen Weingärtnern [Mark 12.1–9],” Aux Sources de la Tradition Chrétienne [ed. O. Cullmann and P. Menoud; Neuchatel: Delachaux et Niestlé, 1950], 120–38) argues that the creative milieu from which this parable springs is neither Galilee nor the ministry of Jesus, but the first-century church influenced by its own interpretation of Isaiah 5. The following observations, however, point in a different direction.

1. We have already noted (see

) that to draw a rigid line between a one-point “parable” and a parable with several intertwined points, or between or “parable” and “interpretation,” has no methodologically secure base.

2. Certainly Jesus himself faced opposition from the religious leaders of his people and day. There is no historical reason to think he could not himself have referred to Isaiah 5 in this connection, and there is substantial formal literary reason for thinking that the parable, as the Synoptics preserve it, fits in with some of Jesus’ established patterns of teaching (cf. Ellis, “New Directions,” 299–315, esp. 312–14).

3. Recognizing these things, some scholars have argued that the “son” motif in the parable itself depends on the logic of the story and therefore must not be judged inauthentic (Hill; cf. J. Blank, “Die Sendung des Sohnes,” in Neues Testament und Kirche [ed. Gnilka], 11–41). This is surely right. But to assign the identification of this “son” as Jesus only to the church seems a rather artificial expedient. Even the most skeptical approach to the Gospels acknowledges that Jesus enjoyed a sense of special sonship to the Father. It is almost inconceivable, therefore, that Jesus could use this “son” language in defending his mission and not be thinking of himself. It is far more natural to read the “son” language of the parable as yet another veiled messianic self-reference, especially in light of the use of “Son of God” as a messianic title in 4Q174 (see

;

;

4. As far as source criticism is concerned, it will no longer do to postulate that Gospel of Thomas 65–66 preserves the original form of the parable. K. R. Snodgrass (“The Parable of the Wicked Husbandmen: Is the Gospel of Thomas Version the Original?” NTS 21 [1975]: 142–44), along with reviewing the evidence that argues that the omissions in Thomas owe something to gnostic influence, shows the dependence of this version on the Syriac Gospels.

33“Listen to another parable: There was a landowner who planted a vineyard. He put a wall around it, dug a winepress in it and built a watchtower. Then he rented the vineyard to some farmers and went away on a journey. 34When the harvest time approached, he sent his servants to the tenants to collect his fruit.

35“The tenants seized his servants; they beat one, killed another, and stoned a third. 36Then he sent other servants to them, more than the first time, and the tenants treated them the same way. 37Last of all, he sent his son to them. ‘They will respect my son,’ he said.

38“But when the tenants saw the son, they said to each other, ‘This is the heir. Come, let’s kill him and take his inheritance.’ 39So they took him and threw him out of the vineyard and killed him.

40“Therefore, when the owner of the vineyard comes, what will he do to those tenants?”

41“He will bring those wretches to a wretched end,” they replied, “and he will rent the vineyard to other tenants, who will give him his share of the crop at harvest time.”

42Jesus said to them, “Have you never read in the Scriptures:

“‘The stone the builders rejected

has become the capstone;

the Lord has done this,

and it is marvelous in our eyes’?

43“Therefore I tell you that the kingdom of God will be taken away from you and given to a people who will produce its fruit. 44He who falls on this stone will be broken to pieces, but he on whom it falls will be crushed.”

45When the chief priests and the Pharisees heard Jesus’ parables, they knew he was talking about them. 46They looked for a way to arrest him, but they were afraid of the crowd because the people held that he was a prophet.

COMMENTARY

33–34 This parable is apparently addressed not only to Jewish rulers (v.23) but to the crowds in the temple courts, not excluding the rulers (cf. Lk 20:9). “Another” (v.33) links this parable with the last one (cf. plural “parables” in v.45). Verses 33–34 clearly allude to Isaiah 5:1–7 and Psalm 80:6–16. Jesus’ parable is an old theme with new variations. The pains the landowner takes show his care for the vineyard. He builds a wall to keep out animals and a watchtower to guard against thieves and fire, and he digs a winepress to squeeze the grapes right there. All this shows his confidence that his vineyard will bear fruit. The tenant farmers take care of the vineyard during the owner’s absence and pay rent in kind.

The “servants” are the owner’s agents sent “to collect his fruit.” Mark stipulates merely “some of the fruit of the vineyard”; some overly zealous critics think tous karpous autou (NIV, “his fruit”; but possibly “its fruit” [i.e., the vineyard’s] as in v.43, where the “its” refers to the kingdom) in Matthew represents the whole crop. That any first-century reader would take words referring to rent this way is very doubtful (v.33). Mark mentions one servant at a time but says that many others were sent (cf. v.36); again, it is very doubtful that any profound theological issue hangs on the differences.

35–37 The verb derō (“beat,” GK 1296) can also mean “flay” or “flog” and stands for general bodily ill-treatment (cf. Jer 20:1–2; 37:15; for Micaiah, see 1Ki 22:24). Killing the prophets is attested in the OT (1Ki 18:4, 13; Jer 26:20–23), as is stoning (2Ch 24:21–22; cf. Mt 23:37; Heb 11:37). The landowner sends more servants (some commentators detect an allusion to the Jewish distinction between “former” and “latter” prophets), who are treated in the same brutal way (v.36). “Last of all” (v.37) he sends his son—there is a note of pathos here—hoping the tenants will respect him. This is not as implausible as it might seem to a Western reader (cf. Derrett, Studies in the New Testament, 2:97–98); here it shows the landowner’s forbearance with his wicked tenant farmers (cf. Ro 2:4) and motivates the ultimate implacability of his wrath.

38–41 The action of the tenants is consistently callous. Precisely how it applies to Jesus is not entirely clear. Many object that the Jewish leaders did not recognize Jesus and did not desire to kill Messiah and usurp his place. But these objections miss the mark and encounter the danger of making the details of the parable run on all fours. Matthew does not take as tolerant a view as some modern scholars do of the way the Jewish leaders discharged their responsibility. Elsewhere he shows (23:37) their fundamental unwillingness to come to terms with Jesus’ identity and claims because they did not want to bow to his authority. True, their attitude was not, according to the synoptic record, “This is the Messiah; come, let us kill him”; yet, in the light of the Scriptures, their rejection of him was no less culpable than if it had been that. Therefore, though all the parable’s details may not be pressed, rejection of the son (v.39) by the leaders is the final straw that brings divine wrath on them.

For six months Jesus has been telling his disciples that the rulers at Jerusalem will kill him (16:21; 17:23; 20:18). Now he tells the rulers themselves, albeit in a parable form, which, at some level, the leaders understand (vv.45–46). Undoubtedly, some who heard Peter a few weeks later (Ac 2:23–37; 3:14–15) were the more convicted when they remembered these words of Jesus.

Many take the order of events—“threw him out of the vineyard and killed him” (Matthew and Luke in the best texts), the reverse of Mark (12:8)—as the result of an attempt to align the parable a little more closely with Jesus’ passion: he was taken outside the city wall and then crucified (a point made by all four gospels). This is possible. But if Matthew and Luke here depend on Q, it is at least equally possible that they preserve the original order, and Mark has a climactic arrangement: the tenants kill the son and throw him out of the vineyard. Nothing in the parable suggests that the vineyard stands for Jerusalem.

In Matthew alone, Jesus elicits the self-condemning response (vv.40–41) of the hearers of the parable, thus concluding his teaching in this parable instead of simply presenting it. Of course, the conclusion remains his, regardless of how he gets it across. The NIV nicely preserves the verbal assonance in the Greek (“wretches ... wretched end”).

42 In the NT, only Jesus asks, “Have you never read?” (12:3; 19:4; 21:16; Mk 12:10); in each case, he is saying, in effect, that the Scriptures point to him (Jn 5:39–40). The quotation is from Psalm 118:22–23 (LXX, which faithfully renders the MT; see Notes). Luke adds a free translation of Isaiah 8:14 (cf. Isa 28:16), which appears in v.44. “Stone” symbolism was important in the early church (Ac 4:11, Ro 9:33; 1Pe 2:6) to help Christians understand why Jesus was rejected by so many of his own people; doubtless its effectiveness was enhanced by Jesus’ use of it.

Jesus now turns to the image of a building. The “capstone” (lit., “head of the corner”) is most probably the top stone of roof parapets, exterior staircases, and city walls (cf. Derrett, Studies in the New Testament, 1:61). Psalm 118 may have been written about David, the type of his greater Son. All the “builders”—Goliath, David’s own family, even Samuel—overlooked or rejected David, but God chose him. So in Jesus’ day the builders (leaders of the people) rejected David’s antitype, Jesus. But God makes him the Capstone. Alternatively, and more probably, the psalm concerns Israel. The nation was despised and threatened on all sides, but God made it the capstone. Jesus, who recapitulates Israel (see

) and is the true center of Israel, receives similar treatment from his opponents, but God vindicates him (cf. 23:39).

The building metaphor makes no explicit allusion to the church; the point is christological, not ecclesiastical. The reversal of what man holds dear, the elevation of what he rejects, can only be the Lord’s doing—“and it is marvelous in our eyes.”

43 This verse, found only in Matthew (cf. van Tilborg, Jewish Leaders, 54–58), further explains the parable. Up to this time, the Jewish religious leaders were the principal means by which God exercised his reign over his people. But the leaders failed so badly in handling God’s “vineyard” and rejecting God’s Son that God gave the responsibility to another people who would produce the kingdom’s fruit (cf. 7:16–20). For a somewhat similar explanation, see Stonehouse (Witness of Matthew, 230). Strictly speaking, then, v.43 does not speak of transferring the locus of the people of God from Jews to Gentiles, though it may hint at this insofar as that locus now extends far beyond the authority of the Jewish rulers (cf. Ac 13:46; 18:5–6; 1Pe 2:9); instead, it speaks of the ending of the role the Jewish religious leaders played in mediating God’s authority (see

; so also Ogawa, “Paraboles de l’Israël véritable?” 127–39, though he unsuccessfully questions the authenticity of v.43).

44–46 Jesus’ words are confirmed by what “the chief priests [mostly Sadducees] and the Pharisees” (v.45)—the two principal voices of authority in the Judaism of Jesus’ day—understood this parable to mean: “they knew he was talking about them.” Verse 44 is inserted in many MSS. It is certainly dominical but may be an assimilation to Luke 20:18. A “capstone,” if too low, could be tripped over by an unwary person, sending him over the parapet; if too light or insecurely fastened, leaning against it could dislodge it and send it crashing onto the head of some passerby (v.44). There is probably an allusion to both Isaiah 8:14–15 and Daniel 2:35. This despised stone (v.42) is not only chosen by God and promoted to the premier place; it is also dangerous.

The pericope ends with magnificent yet tragic irony (v.46). The religious leaders and others who do not accept God’s Messiah are told they will reject Jesus and be crushed. But instead of taking the warning, they hunt for ways to arrest him, hindered only by fear of the people who accept Jesus as a prophet (see

), and so trigger the very situation they have been warned about—a dramatic example of God’s poetic justice. God in the Scriptures foretells this very event. These men, prompted by hatred, rush to bring it to pass.

NOTES

42 The words αὕτη (hautē, “this”) and θαυμαστή (thaumastē, “marvelous”) are feminine and could be construed with κεφαλή (kephalē, “head,” as in “head of the corner” = “capstone”); more likely, this LXX feminine is a slavish rendering of the Hebrew, which has no neuter and often uses feminine for general ideas; i.e., (zō ʾt, “this”) = αὕτη, hautē, and so forth (cf. BDF, para. 138 [2]). The case of λίθον (lithon, “stone”) has been determined by inverse relative attraction (cf. BDF, para. 295; Zerwick, Biblical Greek, para. 19).

On εἰς (eis, “for”) plus an accusative as a substitute for the predicate nominative, see Zerwick, Biblical Greek, para. 32.

46 On εἰς (eis, “for”) as substitute for the predicate accusative—an unmistakable trace of Semitic influence—see BDF, para. 157 (5); Turner, Syntax, 266; Zerwick, Biblical Greek, para. 70.

OVERVIEW

The similarities between this parable and the one in Luke 14:16–24 lead most commentators to take them as separate developments of the same tradition, found also in the Gospel of Thomas (64). This almost inevitably leads to the view that Matthew is later on the grounds that it is more “allegorizing” (but see

) and that 22:6–7, 11–13 are secondary (e.g., Ogawa, “Paraboles de l’Israël véritable?” 140), vv.11–13 perhaps representing another parable. Some go so far as to argue that the Thomas version is the most primitive of the three (but see Blomberg, “Tendencies of the Tradition,” esp. 81ff.). Even when there is perfunctory recognition that Jesus may have repeated the same parable on many different occasions and applied it in quite different ways, the text is subjected to ingenious theories that “explain” all the differences with no attempt to explain the methodological grounds on which one may distinguish two historical accounts of the same or similar parables from one account considerably modified in the tradition and placed in an entirely different setting. (To cite one of many examples, see Robert W. Funk, Language, Hermeneutic, and the Word of God [New York: Harper, 1966], 163–87; for discussion on the general problem, see Introduction, , and

Until we have unambiguous criteria, it seems wise to accept Matthew’s setting and report and Luke’s setting and report (for detailed discussion, see Stonehouse, Origins, 35–42). This is especially so here because of the very small degree of verbal similarity between Matthew and Luke (see

and

In this instance, the differences between Matthew and Luke are striking:

in Luke, the story concerns “a certain man”; in Matthew, “a king”

in Luke, a great supper; in Matthew, a wedding banquet for the king’s son

in Luke, one invitation; in Matthew, two

in Luke, the invited guests make excuses; in Matthew, they refuse and turn violent

in Luke, the invited guests are passed by; in Matthew, they are destroyed.

Each parable makes admirable sense in its own setting. Whereas the skeptic may judge such suitability to be due to editorial tampering, one may equally conclude from the evidence itself that the suitability of the two parables in their respective settings stems from two historical situations.

Regardless of textual provenance, Blickenstaff (While the Bridegroom, 46–76) finds the violent ending so repulsive that she offers a “resistant reading” in which the king is not God but a vicious tyrant, the bridegroom is not Jesus but a rude and judgmental human character, and the wedding feast cannot possibly represent any reign of God that any thoughtful follower of Jesus might want to enter. Similarly, John S. Kloppenborg (The Tenants in the Vineyard: Ideology, Economics, and Agrarian Conflict in Jewish Palestine [WUNT 195; Tübingen: Mohr, 2006]) compares and contrasts this parable with its ostensible parallel in the Gospel of Thomas and thinks the latter is closer to the original and is more “realistic.” While eschewing the “ideological bias” of those who disagree with them, both writers seem remarkably insensitive to the degree to which they are shaped by their own ideologies.

The alleged evidence for later “allegorizing” in Matthew, in addition to being of doubtful worth as an index of later editorial activity (since more and more scholars recognize that parables and allegorizing are not mutually exclusive), must be set against the view that Luke’s very simplicity may argue for the lateness of his account. Both criteria—allegorizing and simplicity—are practically useless for determining historical settings. And if Matthew’s parable is much harsher than Luke’s, may this not owe something to the historical situation—open confrontation with the Jewish leaders during Passion Week, which sets it considerably later than in Luke?

If the parable of the tenants exposes Israel’s leaders’ neglect of their covenanted duty, this one condemns the contempt with which Israel as a whole treats God’s grace. The parable of the wedding banquet is, therefore, not redundant.

1Jesus spoke to them again in parables, saying: 2“The kingdom of heaven is like a king who prepared a wedding banquet for his son. 3He sent his servants to those who had been invited to the banquet to tell them to come, but they refused to come.

4“Then he sent some more servants and said, ‘Tell those who have been invited that I have prepared my dinner: My oxen and fattened cattle have been butchered, and everything is ready. Come to the wedding banquet.’

5“But they paid no attention and went off—one to his field, another to his business. 6The rest seized his servants, mistreated them and killed them. 7The king was enraged. He sent his army and destroyed those murderers and burned their city.

8“Then he said to his servants, ‘The wedding banquet is ready, but those I invited did not deserve to come. 9Go to the street corners and invite to the banquet anyone you find.’ 10So the servants went out into the streets and gathered all the people they could find, both good and bad, and the wedding hall was filled with guests.

11“But when the king came in to see the guests, he noticed a man there who was not wearing wedding clothes. 12‘Friend,’ he asked, ‘how did you get in here without wedding clothes?’ The man was speechless.

13“Then the king told the attendants, ‘Tie him hand and foot, and throw him outside, into the darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.’

14“For many are invited, but few are chosen.”

COMMENTARY

1 Apokritheis (NASB, “answered”; untranslated in NIV) may reflect Jesus’ response to the Jewish leaders’ desires (21:45–46), but it is probably merely formulaic (see

2–3 For “kingdom of heaven,” see

. This kingdom has become like the following story (cf. Carson, “ὅμοιος Word-Group”). The kingdom has already dawned; invitations to the banquet have gone out and are being refused. The son’s wedding banquet doubtless hints at the messianic banquet, but this must not be pressed too hard, for when that banquet comes, there is no possibility of acceptance or refusal.

The king’s son is clearly the Messiah, not uncommonly represented as a bridegroom (9:15; 25:1; Jn 3:29; Eph 5:25–32; Rev 21:2–9). Prospective guests to a major feast were invited in advance and then notified when the feast was ready, but these guests persistently refuse (imperfect tense).

4–5 The king not only graciously repeats his invitation but describes the feast’s greatness in order to provide an incentive to attend it. Ariston (“dinner,” GK 756) properly means “breakfast.” It refers to the first of two meals, usually taken about midmorning (unlike Lk 14:16, where the word deipnon [GK 1270] refers to the evening meal). But large wedding feasts went on for days in the ancient world. This ariston is, therefore, just the beginning of prolonged festivity. By v.13 the celebration is continuing at night. Those invited stay away for mundane and selfish reasons (v.5). They slight the king, whose invitation is both an honor and a command, and the marriage of whose son is a time for special joy.

6–7 The scene turns violent. Some of those invited treat the king’s messengers outrageously (hybrizō is stronger than “mistreat,” GK 5614). Enraged, the king sends his army (see Notes), destroys the murderers, and burns their city (v.7). Many object that vv.6–7 introduce an unexpectedly violent tone, but it is unexpected only if Luke 14:16–24 is presumed to be the more primitive form of the story. Matthew’s readers, who have just finished 21:38–41, would not find vv.6–7 out of place. Nor is there a veiled allusion to AD 70 (contra Hummel, Auseinandersetzung, 85–86, and many others): Reicke (“Synoptic Prophecies,” 123) has shown how implausible this is because the language belongs to the general OT categories of judgment (see Introduction, ).

8–10 The situation having gone beyond that at normal wedding banquets, these shocking developments make their points that much more effectively. The king sends his servants to tas diexodous tōn hodōn (“the street corners,” v.9)—probably the forks of the roads, where they would find many people. They extend the king’s invitation to all and succeed in drawing in all kinds of people, “both good and bad” (v.10). That Jesus is reported as saying this in Matthew clearly shows that the superior righteousness (5:20) believers must attain to enter the kingdom is not merely rigorous obedience to law. After all, this gospel promises a Messiah who saves his people from their sins (1:21; 20:28). Those who are now being invited to come to the banquet are not Gentiles but the despised within Israel. “When the elite do not come, they are replaced by those of the lower social orders, not of a different ethnicity” (Carter, Matthew and the Margins, 436).

11–13 Whether one is good or bad, there is an appropriate attire for this wedding feast. Evidence that the host in first-century Palestinian weddings furnished appropriate attire is inadequate and probably irrelevant to what Matthew is saying. The guest’s speechlessness proves he knows he is guilty, even though the king gently calls him “friend” (v.12; cf. 20:13). In view of “good or bad” (v.10), it is difficult to believe that the wedding clothes symbolize righteousness, unless we construe it as a righteousness essential not to enter but to remain there. It is better to leave the symbolism a little vague and say no more than that the man, though invited, did not prepare acceptably for the feast. Thus, though the invitation is very broad, it does not follow that all who respond positively actually remain for the banquet. Some are tied (presumably so they can’t get back in) and thrown outside into the darkness, where final judgment awaits (v.13).

14 The gar (“for”) introduces a general, pithy conclusion explaining the parable (see

; Zerwick, Biblical Greek, paras. 474–75). Many are invited, but some refuse to come, and others who do come refuse to submit to the norms of the kingdom and are therefore rejected. Those who remain are called “chosen” (eklektoi, GK 1723), a word implicitly denying that the reversals in the parable in any way catch God unawares or remove sovereign grace from his control. At the same time, it is clear from all three parables (21:28–22:14) that not the beginning but the end is crucial.

NOTES

2 The plural γάμους (gamous, lit., “wedding feasts,” GK 1141), as in vv.3–4 (though singular in vv.8, 11–12), may suggest a feast with successive stages (cf. English “nuptials”; see TDNT, 1:648–57).

7 The words τὰ στρατεύματα αὐτοῦ (ta strateumata autou, lit., “his armies”) might lead the English reader to think of vast numbers of soldiers but is probably no more specific than the English idiom “sending in the army” or “police.”

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