b. The sharp pain: the fall of Jerusalem (24:15–21)

OVERVIEW

Matthew now rejoins Mark (12:13–17) and Luke (20:20–26) in a series of confrontations, the third of which Luke omits. In each one, Jesus is confronted in an attempt to show he is no better than any other rabbi, or even to ensnare him in serious difficulties. Not only does Jesus respond with superlative wisdom, but he ends the exchanges by challenging his opponents with a question of his own they cannot answer (vv.41–46)—another bit of veiled self-disclosure. All this probably takes place in the temple courts on Tuesday of Passion Week.

15Then the Pharisees went out and laid plans to trap him in his words. 16They sent their disciples to him along with the Herodians. “Teacher,” they said, “we know you are a man of integrity and that you teach the way of God in accordance with the truth. You aren’t swayed by men, because you pay no attention to who they are. 17Tell us then, what is your opinion? Is it right to pay taxes to Caesar or not?”

18But Jesus, knowing their evil intent, said, “You hypocrites, why are you trying to trap me? 19Show me the coin used for paying the tax.” They brought him a denarius, 20and he asked them, “Whose portrait is this? And whose inscription?”

21“Caesar’s,” they replied.

Then he said to them, “Give to Caesar what is Caesar’s, and to God what is God’s.”

22When they heard this, they were amazed. So they left him and went away.

COMMENTARY

15–16a “Then” (tote) may have purely temporal force (Mark and Luke have “and”), but there is probably a logical connection as well: “then”—after Jesus’ further self-disclosure and ample warning to the Jewish leaders—the Pharisees went out from the temple courts where Jesus was preaching (21:23) and “laid plans to trap him in his words.” Mark (12:13) says that “they” (presumably “the chief priests, the teachers of the law and the elders,” 11:27) sent “some of the Pharisees and Herodians” to ensnare Jesus. Matthew says the Pharisees laid the plan and sent their disciples along with Herodians (v.16). Many think this difference reflects Matthew’s “anti-Pharisaic bias.” But several cautions must be sounded.

1. If Mark’s “they” includes “the chief priests, the teachers of the law and the elders,” we must remember that most of the latter two groups were Pharisees. Both gospels, therefore, recognize the Pharisees’ part in this confrontation.

2. Matthew’s motive for making the Pharisees instigators does not have to be “anti-Pharisaic bias,” any more than mention of the Sadducees in v.23 and synoptic parallels reflects “anti-Sadducean bias.” It may owe something to literary balance—an explicit party in v.23, an explicit party in v.15. Or it may even reflect historical awareness since the Sadducees, most of whom got along with the Roman overlord better than the Pharisees, would be less likely to think up this first confrontation.

3. Both Matthew and Mark specify that Pharisees and Herodians approached Jesus, and the reason is obvious. Unlike most of the Jews, the Herodians openly supported the reigning family of Herod and its pro-Roman sympathies. Clearly, both Pharisees and Herodians are more than mere envoys; they are active participants, seeking to put Jesus between a rock and a hard place.

A common enemy makes strange bedfellows, and common animus against Jesus erupts in plans to trip him up by fair means or foul. The verb pagideuō (“ensnare,” “entrap,” used only here [v.15] in the NT) reveals the motive. This is no dispassionate inquiry into a proper attitude to the Roman overlord. Paying the poll tax was the most obvious sign of submission to Rome. In AD 6, Judas of Galilee led a revolt against the first procurator because he took a census for tax purposes (Josephus, Ant. 18.3 [1.1]). Zealots claimed the poll tax was a God-dishonoring badge of slavery to the pagans. The trap, then, put Jesus in the position where he would either alienate a major part of the population or else lay himself open to a charge of treason.

16–17 The title “Teacher” and the long preamble (v.16) reflect flattery and pressure for Jesus to speak. If he does not reply after such an introduction, then he is not a man of integrity and is swayed by men. The question “Is it right?” is theological, as all legal questions inevitably were to a first-century Jew. The question raised here, and others like it, exercised the rabbis (e.g., b. Pesaḥ. 112b, b. B. Qam. 113a).

By NT times “Caesar,” the family name of Julius Caesar, had become a title (cf. Lk 2:1, of Augustus; 3:1, of Tiberius; Ac 17:7, of Claudius; 25:8–12; Php 4:22, of Nero). The reference here is to Tiberius. The wording of the question, with its deft “or not,” demands a yes or a no.

18–20 Jesus will not be forced into a reductionistic reply. He recognizes the duplicity of his opponents. “Trap” (v.18) is not pagideuō (as in v.15) but peirazō (“test” or “tempt,” as in 4:1; 16:1). Jesus chooses to answer them on his own terms and asks for the coin (nomisma, a NT hapax legomenon) used for paying this tax (22:19). That he has to ask may reflect his own poverty or the fact that he and his disciples had a common purse. It was customary, though not absolutely essential, to pay the tax in Roman currency; and that such coins bore an image of the emperor’s head along with an offensive inscription (“Tiberius Caesar, son of the divine Augustus” on one side and “pontifex maximus”—which Jesus would understand as “high priest”—on the other) would offend most Palestinian Jews. They hand Jesus a denarius (v.19), and, as in 21:23–27, he asks his questioners a question—this time one they have to answer (v.20).

21–22 Superficially, Jesus’ answer accords with Jewish teaching that men ought to pay taxes to their foreign overlords, since the great, even the pagan great, owe their position to God (cf. Pr 8:15; Da 2:21, 37–38). But Jesus’ answer (v.21) is more profound than that and can be fully understood only in the light of religion-state relations in first-century Rome. The Jews, with their theocratic heritage, were ill equipped to formulate a theological rationale for paying tribute to foreign and pagan overlords, unless, like the Jews of the exile, they interpreted their situation as one of divine judgment. But it was not only Jewish monotheism that linked religion and state. Paganism customarily insisted even more strongly on the unity of what we distinguish as civil and religious obligations. Indeed, some decades later, Christians faced the wrath of Rome because they refused to participate in emperor worship—a refusal the state judged to be treason.

Seen in this light, Jesus’ response is not some witty way of getting out of a predicament; rather, it shows his full awareness of a major development in redemption history. Jesus does not side with the Zealots or with any who expect his messiahship to bring instant political independence from Rome. The messianic community he determines to build (16:18) must render to whichever Caesar is in power whatever belongs to that Caesar, while never turning from its obligations to God. The lesson was learned by both Paul and Peter (Ro 13:1–7; 1Pe 2:13–17). Of course, Jesus’ reply is not a legal statute resolving every issue. Where Caesar claims what is God’s, the claims of God have priority (Ac 4:19; 5:29; much of Revelation). Nevertheless, Jesus’ pithy words not only answer his enemies but also lay down the basis for the proper relationship of his people to government. The profundity of his reply is amazing (v.22), but some of his enemies, no doubt disappointed at their failure to ensnare him, later on lie to pretend that their snare had worked (Lk 23:2).

On the theological bearing of this pericope on Romans 13, see D. A. Carson, Christ and Culture Revisited (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2008), passim.

NOTES

16 The clause οὐ γὰρ βλέπεις εἰς πρόσωπον ἀνθρώπων (ou gar blepeis eis prosōpon anthrōpōn, lit., “you do not look to the face of men”) is idiomatically translated by the NIV, “you pay no attention to who [men] are.” The expression probably has the same force as (lō ʾ takîr pānîm, “you shall not respect persons [NIV, ‘show partiality’],” Dt 16:19; cf. Lev 19:15): cf. Sigal, Halakhah of Jesus, 74–75; contra Derrett, Law in the New Testament, 313ff.

21 Some have interpreted ἀπόδοτε (apodote, “give,” GK 625) to mean “pay back”: Give back to God what he has given you, and to Caesar what he has given you. Although the verb can have that force, it need only mean “give” or “pay.” The latter is more suitable in this context because in no real sense does Caesar “give back” his subjects’ tax money. They pay what is his due, what properly belongs to him, not what he has given them.

OVERVIEW

The questioners’ intent is as malicious as in the last pericope. They hope to embroil Jesus in a theological debate where he must choose sides; instead, the exchange again demonstrates his wisdom and authority (cf. Mk 12:18–27; Lk 20:27–40).

23That same day the Sadducees, who say there is no resurrection, came to him with a question. 24“Teacher,” they said, “Moses told us that if a man dies without having children, his brother must marry the widow and have children for him. 25Now there were seven brothers among us. The first one married and died, and since he had no children, he left his wife to his brother. 26The same thing happened to the second and third brother, right on down to the seventh. 27Finally, the woman died. 28Now then, at the resurrection, whose wife will she be of the seven, since all of them were married to her?”

29Jesus replied, “You are in error because you do not know the Scriptures or the power of God. 30At the resurrection people will neither marry nor be given in marriage; they will be like the angels in heaven. 31But about the resurrection of the dead—have you not read what God said to you, 32‘I am the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob’? He is not the God of the dead but of the living.”

33When the crowds heard this, they were astonished at his teaching.

COMMENTARY

23 “That same day” (lit., “in that hour”) places this confrontation in the same situation as the former one. Pharisees believed in a resurrection from the dead, basing their belief in part on Isaiah 26:19 and Daniel 12:2. But Sadducees did not believe in a resurrection. Both body and soul, they held, perish at death (cf. Ac 23:8; see Josephus, Ant. 18.12–17 [1.3–4]; J.W. 2.162–66 [8.14]). In Jesus’ time, Judaism as a whole held surprisingly diverse views of death and what lies beyond it (cf. G. W. E. Nickelsburg, Resurrection, Immortality, and Eternal Life in Intertestamental Judaism [Cambridge: Harvard Univ. Press, 1972]; Keener). In support of his view that Matthew was written so late that it retains only vague and inaccurate impressions of Sadducees (who largely died out after AD 70), Hummel (Auseinandersetzung, 18–20) argues that this verse says that only some of the Sadducees say there is no resurrection; the Greek text knows no such restriction, whatever variant is chosen (see Notes).

24–28 Like the Pharisees and Herodians, the Sadducees approach Jesus with insincere respect (“Teacher”; cf. v.16). They begin by citing the Mosaic levirate law (Dt 25:5–6). The text form in Matthew either is a little closer to the Hebrew than in Mark and Luke, or else assimilates more closely to Genesis 38:8 (LXX). According to biblical law, if a man dies without children (the plural is generalizing: Zerwick, Biblical Greek, para. 7; see

), his younger brother is to marry the widow and “have children for him,” i.e., sire children who would legally be heirs of the deceased brother. Levirate marriage antedates Moses in the canon (Genesis 38:8); i.e., Moses regulated the practice but did not initiate it. The OT gives us no case of it, though levirate law stands behind Ruth 1:11–13; 4:1–22. Probably in Jesus’ day, the law was little observed, the younger brother’s right to decline taking precedence over his obligation.

Though the case brought by the Sadducees (vv.25–27) could have happened, it is probably hypothetical, fabricated to confound Pharisees and others who believed in resurrection. Their question presupposes that resurrection life is an exact counterpart to earthly life. If so, the resurrected woman (v.28) must be guilty of incestuous marriages (see

) or arbitrarily designated the wife of one of the brothers. And if so, which one? Or—and this is the answer the Sadducees pressed for—the whole notion of resurrection is absurd.

29–30 In Jesus’ mind, the Sadducees were denying Scripture because they approached its clear teaching on the subject (Isa 26:19; Da 12:2; cf. Job 19:25–27), assuming that if God raises the dead, he must bring them back to an existence just like this one. Jesus’ response was acute. The Sadducees, Jesus insists, betray their ignorance of the Scriptures, which do teach resurrection, and of the power of God, who is capable of raising the dead to an existence quite unlike this present one. “For” (gar, untranslated in NIV)—introducing an explanation as to how the power of God will manifest itself—“in” (en, not “at” [NIV], viewing the resurrection, not as a single event, but as a state inaugurated by the event) “the resurrection” there will be a change in sexual relationships (v.30). In this way we shall be “like the angels in heaven,” and marriage as we know it will be no more. In fact, Jesus’ use of angels contains a double thrust since the Sadducees denied their existence (cf. Ac 23:8).

Some have concluded from Jesus’ answer that in heaven there will be no memory of earlier existence and its relationships, but this is a gratuitous assumption. The greatness of the changes at the resurrection (cf. 1Co 15:44; Php 3:21; 1Jn 3:1–2) will doubtless make the wife of even seven brothers (vv.24–27) capable of loving all and the object of the love of all—as a good mother today loves all her children and is loved by them.

31–32 Jesus now turns from the power of God to the word of Scripture (cf. v.29). He may have drawn the passage to which he appeals (Ex 3:6) from the Pentateuch because the Sadducees prized the Pentateuch more highly than the rest of Scripture. “Have you not read?” (v.31) is a rebuke (see

If God is the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob even when addressing Moses, hundreds of years after the first three patriarchs died, then they must be alive to him (v.32), “for to him all are alive” (Lk 20:38). God is the eternal God of the covenant, a fact especially stressed wherever reference is made to the patriarchs (e.g., Ge 24:12, 27, 48; 26:24; 28:13; 32:9; 46:1, 3–4; 48:15–16; 49:25). He always loves and blesses his people; therefore it is inconceivable that his blessings cease when his people die (cf. Pss 16:10–11; 17:15; 49:14–15; 73:23–26). Yet, at first glance, the text Jesus cites is sufficient, along the lines of this argument, to prove immortality but not resurrection. Two observations largely alleviate the problem.

1. The Sadducees denied the existence of spirits as thoroughly as they denied the existence of angels (Ac 23:8). Their concern was, therefore, not to choose between immortality and resurrection but between death as finality and life beyond death, whatever its mode.

2. The mode that was the principal (though certainly not exclusive) option in Palestinian piety was a rather shadowy existence in Sheol followed by final resurrection.

Our problem is that we force on the text a Neoplatonic dualism and demand a choice between immortality and resurrection (cf. Warfield, Selected Shorter Writings, 1:339–47). The point is simply “that God will raise the dead because he cannot fail to keep his promises to them that he will be their God” (Marshall, Gospel of Luke, 743), read against the background of biblical anthropology and eschatology (cf. also F. Dreyfus, “L’argument scripturaire de Jésus in faveur de la résurrection des morts [Mark 12:26–27],” RB 66 [1959]: 213–24—though he handles Lk 20:37–38 rather disappointingly).

33 Matthew does not tell us that the Sadducees are convinced but that the crowds are astonished at Jesus’ teaching. The cause of the astonishment is probably Jesus’ authority and incisive insight into biblical truth (cf. 7:28–29; 13:54; 22:22). Luke (20:39) remarks that some teachers of the law, almost certainly of Pharisaic persuasion, responded, “Well said, teacher!”

NOTES

23 The two principal readings are “Sadducees saying” and “Sadducees, those who say” (for textual details, see Metzger, Textual Commentary, 58). The former is likely original, both on external evidence and because it almost suggests the Sadducees began the conversation with a denial, an unprecedented approach (though it is possible their “saying” is understood to be an aside, under their breath as it were). The second reading is then a partial assimilation to Mark 12:18; Luke 20:27. But even if the second reading is original, it is quite unnecessary to suppose “those who say” refers to some part of the Sadducees. The words most plausibly belong in apposition: “Sadducees, i.e., those who say.” Matthew treats the verb ἔρχονται (erchontai, come) in Mark 12:18 as a historical present, and if “saying” is a dependent participle, it takes on the same temporal force as Matthew’s προσῆλθον (prosēlthon, “came”).

31 This is the only place in the NT that speaks of resurrection τῶν νεκρῶν (tōn nekrōn, “of the dead”), though Romans 1:4 uses the anarthrous expression. More common is the insertion of the preposition ἐκ (ek, “from”). Despite various theories to explain these differences, the diverse forms are probably synonymous.

OVERVIEW

The account as we have it is not in Luke (cf. Mk 12:28–34), though Luke 10:25–28 has something similar introducing the parable of the Good Samaritan. Because there are several verbal agreements between Matthew and Luke against Mark, it is usually held that the “double commandment” came down separately in Mark and Q (cf. R. H. Fuller, “The Double Commandment of Love,” in Essays on the Love Commandment [ed. Schottroff et al.], 41–56). This is quite possible. The Lukan pericope (10:25–37) is so loosely connected to its setting that it could have come from almost any period in Jesus’ ministry.

On the other hand, the rabbis of Jesus’ day were much exercised to find summary statements of OT laws and establish their relative importance. In all probability, the question arose enough times in Jesus’ ministry that he developed a fairly standard response to the question. In Luke, Jesus elicits the correct answer from the expert in the law rather than providing it himself, but we have already seen this kind of diversity when the synoptists recount the same event (e.g., Mk 12:9 and Mt 21:40–41; cf. Mk 12:35–36 and Mt 22:42–44); thus the distinction may not be significant. More telling is the fact that the pericope in Luke focuses primarily not on the question of the greatest commandment but on the question of how to inherit eternal life. While this is scarcely conclusive, it may suggest quite separate occasions (cf. Ellis, “New Directions,” 310–12).

34Hearing that Jesus had silenced the Sadducees, the Pharisees got together. 35One of them, an expert in the law, tested him with this question: 36“Teacher, which is the greatest commandment in the Law?”

37Jesus replied: “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ 38This is the first and greatest commandment. 39And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ 40All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments.”

COMMENTARY

34 Mark says that teachers of the law—most of whom were Pharisees—posed the question (12:28) and gives a rather positive picture of the man. But Matthew maintains the polemical tone and portrays this confrontation as owing something to the machinations of the Pharisees, who saw how Jesus had silenced the Sadducees. Historically, the Pharisees’ leaders sent one of their “disciples” (cf. v.16)—himself a Pharisee—who turned out to be more sympathetic than his seniors. Mark focuses on the confrontation; Matthew looks at its core from the perspective of the Pharisees who plotted it. (For similar dissension among high Jewish authorities when assessing Jesus, see Jn 7:45–52; Ac 5:33–39.)

35–36 The nomikos (“expert in the law,” GK 3788, assuming this is the correct reading and not an interpolation from Luke) is here a Pharisee, a “scribe” or “teacher of the law” considered particularly learned (v.35). The “law,” of course, is Scripture, perhaps especially the Pentateuch. But because Scripture was applied to every area of life—including all civil matters—by means of certain interpretive rules and a vast complex of tradition, such an expert was, by modern standards, both a learned theologian and a legal expert. He “tested” Jesus, asking which is the greatest commandment (v.36; the positive is used for the superlative, a not uncommon way to speak of a group or class; cf. Moulton, Grammar: Accidence, 442; BDF, para. 245 [2]; Zerwick, Biblical Greek, para. 146).

The Jews quite commonly drew distinctions among the laws of Scripture—great and small, light and heavy. Jesus does something similar in 23:23. Testament of Issachar 6 gives certain Scriptures as the epitome of the law; and Akiba’s “negative golden rule” (see

) is proclaimed as “the whole law. The rest is commentary” (cf. b. Šabb. 31a). Yet the Jewish evidence is not univocal. Mekilta Exodus 6 and Sifre Deuteronomy 12:8; 19:11 speak of the equal importance of all commandments (cf. Str-B, 1:902ff.). We must allow not only for diversity of opinion among Jewish authorities but also for various opinions with different aims. Moreover, equality of various laws can refer to equality of reward for keeping them; Akiba’s dictum was a response to a Gentile challenge to explain the whole law during the time he could stand on one leg.

Verse 36 shows that the question of the expert was probably a hotly debated one (cf. Urbach, Sages, 1:345–65). The scene is like an ordination council, where the candidate is doing so well that some of the most learned ministers ask him questions they themselves have been unable to answer—in the hope of tripping him up or of finding answers.

37–39 Jesus first quotes Deuteronomy 6:5 (part of the Shema [Dt 6:4–9; 11:13–21; Nu 15:38–41]) and then Leviticus 19:18. The first is from the MT, the second from the LXX (cf. Gundry, Use of the Old Testament, 22–25; Blomberg, “Matthew,” in CNTUOT). From the viewpoint of biblical anthropology, “heart,” “soul,” and “mind” (v.37) are not mutually exclusive but overlapping categories, together demanding our love for God to come from our whole person, our every faculty and capacity. “First and greatest” (v.38) refers to one, not two, qualities. The “and” is explicative; i.e., this command is primary because it is the greatest. The second (v.39) also concerns love, this time toward one’s “neighbor,” which in Leviticus 19:18 applies to a fellow Israelite or resident alien, but which Luke 10:29–37 expands to anyone who needs our help.

Bringing these two texts together does not originate with Jesus, as Luke’s parallel suggests (confirmed also by T. Iss. 5:2; 7:6; T. Dan 5:3, if these texts are pre-Christian).

40 This verse is distinctive though enigmatic. “All the Law and the Prophets hang on [lit., ‘are suspended from’] these two commandments.” The following observations bring out the principal points of this summary.

1. The two commandments, Jesus says, stand together. The first without the second is intrinsically impossible (cf. 1Jn 4:20), and the second cannot stand without the first—even theoretically—because disciplined altruism is not love. Love in the truest sense demands abandonment of self to God, and God alone is the adequate incentive for such abandonment. Moreover, in Leviticus 19, from which the second commandment is quoted, the grounding of the stipulations is frequently given: “I am the LORD”—i.e., the grounding is in the first commandment.

2. But in what sense do the Law and the Prophets “hang” on these two commandments? It is unlikely that the verb implies “derivation”—that the Law and the Prophets can be deduced from these two commandments (so K. Berger, Die Gesetzesauslegung Jesu [Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1972], 227–32). Jesus has expanded the initial category (“the greatest commandment in the Law,” v.36) to include all Scripture (“all the Law and the Prophets”). So even if “all the Law” could be derived from these two commandments, how could the same be said of “all the Prophets”?

3. It is equally unlikely that Jesus is appealing to these two commandments to abolish the necessity of formal adherence to all other law, thus entirely abandoning the rabbinical approach to the law and perhaps even making the love commandments a kind of hermeneutical canon for interpreting all OT law. This view, in one form or another, is very popular (cf. Barth, “Matthew’s Understanding of the Law,” 76–78; Bornkamm, Geschichte, 37–45; Hummel, Auseinandersetzung, 51ff.; see esp. B. Gerhardsson, “The Hermeneutic Program in Matthew 22:37–40,” in Jesus, Greeks, and Christians [ed. R. Hamerton-Kelly and R. Scroggs; Leiden: Brill, 1976], 129–50). This radical interpretation of Jesus’ answer is said to be necessary to make sense of the fact that this confrontation is a test (Barth, “Matthew’s Understanding of the Law,” 78). But the test can be understood in other ways (see

). The fact that Jesus’ opponents are testing him does not require his answer to be radical, any more than in vv.23–33. There is no positive evidence in the text to support this view, if a better one can be found; and Moo (“Jesus and the Authority of the Mosaic Law”) has rightly pointed out that in no case in the Gospels does love serve as grounds for abrogating any commandment (the Sabbath controversies are no exception, since there concern for fellow human beings is recognized as one important factor within the Sabbath law itself; see

). Indeed, Barth (“Matthew’s Understanding of the Law,” 78) is reduced to pitting the love commands against the “jot and tittle” of 5:18, though both are taught by Jesus.

4. W. C. Kaiser (“Weightier and Lighter Matters”) rightly points out that this passage is in keeping with the prophetic tradition of the OT, which equally demands a heart relationship with God (Dt 10:12; 1Sa 15:22; Isa 1:11–17; 43:22–24; Hos 6:6; Am 5:21–24; Mic 6:6–8; cf. Pr 15:8; 21:27; 28:9). Sterile religion, no matter how disciplined, was never regarded as adequate. Unfortunately, Kaiser then arbitrarily links this pericope too closely with a passage such as Matthew 23:23–24 and argues that Jesus is saying that “the meticulous scribes and punctilious Pharisees ... must penetrate to the more significant and abiding aspects of the law” (p. 185, emphasis mine). But that is just what Jesus does not say at this point. The relative “greatness” of this command or some other one has no connection whatsoever in synoptic pericopes to continuity or discontinuity between the Testaments.

5. Nevertheless, Kaiser’s initial linking of vv.34–40 with the OT tradition demanding heart religion is valid. This matter is well treated by Moo (“Jesus and the Authority of the Mosaic Law”). There is no question here of the priority of love over law—i.e., one system over another—but of the priority of love within the law. These two commandments are the greatest because all Scripture “hangs” on them; i.e., nothing in Scripture can cohere or be truly obeyed unless these two are observed. Love is “the primary hermeneutical principle for interpreting and applying the law” (Mohrlang, Matthew and Paul, 95). The entire biblical revelation demands heart religion marked by total allegiance to God, loving him and loving one’s neighbor. Without these two commandments, the Bible is sterile. This pericope prepares the way for the denunciations of 23:1–36 and conforms fully to Jesus’ teaching elsewhere. “Love is the greatest commandment, but it is not the only one; and the validity and applicability of other commandments cannot be decided by appeal to its paramount demand” (Moo, p. 12). The question of the continuity or discontinuity of OT law within the teaching of Jesus is determined not with reference to the love commands but by a salvation-historical perspective focusing on prophecy and fulfillment (see

NOTES

40 It is doubtful whether Paul (Ro 13:8–10) goes beyond the interpretation given above (cf. C. E. B. Cranfield, The Epistle to the Romans [Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1975, 1979], 2:673–79). This does not mean that Cranfield’s entire view on the law in Paul is to be endorsed but that he rightly perceives the relation between love and law. For discussion of the place of law in the history of redemption, see From Sabbath to Lord’s Day [ed. Carson]; Stephen Westerholm, Perspectives Old and New on Paul (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2004).

OVERVIEW

After silencing the Jewish leaders, Jesus in turn asks them a question. His purpose is not to win a debate but to elicit from them what the Scriptures themselves teach about the Messiah, thus helping people to recognize who he really is. The passage speaks to crucial christological and hermeneutical issues (see

). Although many commentators hold that this pericope represents a debate between the synagogue and the church, or within the church, in Matthew’s day, Bock (Blasphemy and Exaltation, 220–22) rightly points out how unlikely it is that the church, which happily and frequently confessed Jesus to be the Son of David, would invent a story that appears to question the legitimacy of that confession.

The synoptic parallels (Mk 12:35–37; Lk 20:41–44) do not show that Jesus’ questions were addressed to the Pharisees, or that they replied (see

). The historical setting is the temple courts, where crowds and leaders mingled together and alternately listened to the teacher from Nazareth and fired questions at him (21:23–23:36). Matthew’s details probably stem from his memory of the events. That he mentions the Pharisees may reveal his desire to show his readers where the Pharisees were wrong. But one cannot be dogmatic about this, since Matthew omits Mark’s gentle snub: “The large crowd listened to him with delight” (12:37), which shows that Mark, too, knows that Jesus aimed his exegesis of Psalm 110 against the biblical experts of his day.

41While the Pharisees were gathered together, Jesus asked them, 42“What do you think about the Christ? Whose son is he?”

“The son of David,” they replied.

43He said to them, “How is it then that David, speaking by the Spirit, calls him ‘Lord’? For he says,

44“‘The Lord said to my Lord:

“Sit at my right hand

until I put your enemies

under your feet.”’

45If then David calls him ‘Lord,’ how can he be his son?” 46No one could say a word in reply, and from that day on no one dared to ask him any more questions.

COMMENTARY

41–42 Jesus’ question (v.41) focuses on the real issue—Christology, not resurrection or taxes—that turned the authorities into his enemies. The Messiah’s identity according to the Scriptures must be determined. One way to do that is to ask whose son he is (v.42). The Pharisees gave the accepted reply: “The son of David”—based on passages such as 2 Samuel 7:13–14; Isaiah 11:1, 10; Jeremiah 23:5 (see

;

; cf. Moore, Judaism, 2:328–29; Guthrie, New Testament Theology, 253–56; Fitzmyer, Essays on the Semitic Background, 113–26; Longenecker, Christology of Early Jewish Christianity, 109–10).

43–45 This view, though not wrong, is too simple because, as Jesus points out, David called the Messiah his Lord (v.43). How, then, could Messiah be David’s son? The force of Jesus’ argument depends on his use of Psalm 110, the most frequently quoted OT passage in the NT. The Davidic authorship of the psalm, affirmed by the psalm’s superscription, is not only assumed by Jesus but is essential to his argument. If the psalm was written by anyone else, then David did not call Messiah his Lord. The phrase “speaking by the Spirit” not only assumes that all Scripture is Spirit-inspired (cf. Ac 4:25; Heb 3:7; 9:8; 10:15; 2Pe 1:21) but here reinforces the truth of what David said so it may be integrated into the beliefs of the hearers (cf. “and the Scripture cannot be broken,” Jn 10:35). The text of Psalm 110:1, quoted by all three Synoptics, is essentially Septuagintal (cf. Gundry, Use of the Old Testament, 25; on the variants, see Fee, “Modern Text Criticism,” 163–64). The “right hand” (v.44) is the position of highest honor and authority (cf. 19:28; Ps 45:9).

Many but not all Jews in Jesus’ day regarded Psalm 110 as messianic (cf. Str-B, 4:452–65; Edersheim, Life and Times, appendix 9; David M. Hay, Glory at the Right Hand: Psalm 110 in Early Christianity [Nashville: Abingdon, 1973], 11–33). Most modern scholars say that Psalm 110 was not Davidic but was written about David or some other king, making “my Lord” a monarchical reference by an unknown psalmist. Because Psalm 110 is so frequently quoted in the NT, some scholars try to establish the “entry” of the psalm into Christian tradition, associating it with, say, “the pre-Pauline formula in Romans 1:3f.” (D. C. Duling, “The Promises to David and Their Entrance into Christianity,” NTS 20 [1974]: 55–77) or Pentecost (M. Gourgues, “Lecture christologique du Psaume cx et Fête de la Pentecōte,” RB 83 [1976]: 1–24). A pattern is then plotted for the score of NT uses of Psalm 110, on which Matthew 22:41–46 (plus par.) appears too late to be authentic words of Jesus.

Nevertheless there are many arguments for an interpretation more in conformity with the texts as we have them.

1. That Psalm 110 is about the king makes sense only if the superscription is ignored. If David is indeed the author, as both the psalm’s superscription and Jesus insist, then either the psalm deals with some figure other than David or else David, caught up in high prophetic vision, is writing about himself in the third person.

2. The latter is by no means implausible. But we have already seen that much prophecy and fulfillment is in OT paradigms pointing forward, sometimes with the understanding of the OT writers, sometimes not (see

;

;

). David is regularly portrayed, even in the OT, as the model for the coming Anointed One, and David himself understood at least something of the messianic promise (2Sa 7:13–14).

3. Psalm 110 uses language so reckless and extravagant (“forever,” v.4; the mysterious Melchizedek reference, v.4; the scope of the king’s victory, v.6) that one must either say the psalm is using hyperbole or that it points beyond David. That is exactly the sort of argument Peter uses in Acts 2:25–31 concerning another Davidic psalm (Ps 16).

4. Psalm 110 contains no allusion to the much later Maccabeans, who were priest-kings, for they were priests who became “kings,” whereas the figure in Psalm 110 is a king who becomes a priest.

5. As the text stands, this pericope has important christological implications. The widely held, if not dominant, view was that the coming Messiah would be the son of David (cf. Pss. Sol. 17). Jesus not only declares that view inadequate, but he insists that the OT itself tells us it is inadequate. If Messiah is not David’s son, whose son is he? The solution is given by the prologue to Matthew (chs. 1–2) and by the voice of God himself (3:17; 17:5): Jesus is the Son of God. Even the title “Son of Man” (see

) offers a transcendent conception of messiahship.

6. However, in spite of Bultmann (History of the Synoptic Tradition, 136–37) and many others, this does not mean that Jesus or Matthew is denying that the Messiah is David’s son, replacing this notion with a more transcendent perspective. This gospel repeatedly recognizes that Jesus the Messiah is Son of David, not only by title (1:1; 9:27; 15:22; 20:30–31; 21:9, 15; cf. 12:23) and by the genealogy (1:2–16), but also by its portrayal of Jesus as King of the Jews (2:2; 21:5; 27:11, 29, 37, 42: cf. Hay, Glory at the Right Hand, 116–17). What Jesus does is synthesize the concept of a human Messiah in David’s line with the concept of a divine Messiah who transcends human limitations (e.g., Ps 45:6–7; Isa 9:6; Jer 23:5–6; 33:15–16; Zec 12:10 [MT]; 13:7 [NASB]), even as Matthew elsewhere synthesizes kingship and the Suffering Servant. The OT itself looked forward to one who would be both the offshoot and the root of David (Isa 11:1, 10, cf. Rev 22:16).

7. Even the fact that Jesus’ use of Psalm 110:1 was susceptible to an interpretation denying that the Messiah must be of Davidic descent argues strongly for the authenticity of this exegesis of the psalm, for it is unlikely that Christians would have placed this psalm on Jesus’ lips when his Davidic sonship is taught throughout the NT (in addition to Matthew, cf. Mk 10:47–48; 11:10; Lk 1:32; 18:38–39; Ro 1:3; 2Ti 2:8; Rev 3:7; 5:5; 22:16). Jesus’ question (v.45) is not a denial of Messiah’s Davidic sonship but a demand for recognizing how Scripture itself teaches that Messiah is more than David’s son.

8. Against those who hold that this transcendent sonship could have arisen as an issue only after the passion (e.g., Lindars, New Testament Apologetic, 46–47), we must ask why Jesus himself could not have expressed the paradox of Messiah’s dual paternity since he certainly knew God as uniquely his “Father” (see esp. 11:27) and applies the transcendent title “Son of Man” to himself as well.

9. If this approach is substantially correct, then the entrance of Psalm 110 into Christian theology is traceable to Jesus himself. Moreover, it can be credibly argued that his approach to the OT is adopted by the NT writers, even when they do not focus on the same OT texts to which he gave his primary attention.

10. Finally, the text has some eschatological implications, even though they are not of primary interest. Messiah is pictured at God’s right hand of authority during a period of hostility from God’s enemies, a hostility to be crushed at the end (cf. 28:18–20).

46 In Mark, the opponents’ silence (12:34) concludes the pericope of the greatest commandment. Matthew uses this comment to finish the entire section of confrontations (21:23–22:46). Many who were silenced were not saved; so Jesus’ enemies went underground for a short time before the crucifixion. Yet even their silence was a tribute. The teacher who never attended the right schools (Jn 7:15–18) confounds the greatest theologians in the land. And if his question (v.45) was unanswerable at this time, a young Pharisee, who may have been in Jerusalem at the time, was to answer it in due course (Ro 1:1–4; 9:5).

NOTES

44 The variants “under your feet” and “your footstool” (cf. NA²⁷) were easily exchangeable in Greek because of (1) similarity in the Greek terms ὑποκάτω (hypokatō, “under”) and ὑποπόδιον (hypopodion, “footstool”); (2) the demonstrable influence of Psalm 8:6; and (3) the obvious relation between the two expressions (a footstool by definition is under one’s feet). On the significance of the idea, see Joshua 10:24; Psalm 47:3.

OVERVIEW

Structurally, it is difficult to decide just where Matthew 23 belongs. Because it is essentially discourse, some have held that it either belongs to Matthew 24–25 or else is a separate discourse and must be treated as such. But the different audiences (23:1; 24:3) separate ch. 23 from chs. 24–25, as do their distinct, though related, themes. Nor is Matthew 23 a discourse on a par with the five major discourses of Matthew; it lacks the characteristic discourse ending (see

). Moreover, from a thematic viewpoint, Matthew 23 is best perceived as the climax of the preceding confrontations (cf. Keener; Garland, Intention of Matthew 23, 41–46).

Solutions to many of the important questions raised by Matthew 23 gradually emerge from exegesis of the whole, but several preliminary considerations will point the way ahead.

1. The literary origins of this chapter are disputed. Some see vv.1–12 as free expansion—by Matthew of Mark 12:38–39, and vv.13–36 of Mark 12:40. Others hold that Mark has reduced material in Matthew because he is not interested in this debate, and still others that the two gospels spring at this juncture from separate traditions. There is no way of proving the rightness of one of these options. Yet it must be said that Matthew’s material is remarkably coherent and, when viewed dispassionately (see below), believably dominical. Even the changes of addressees (vv.1, 13, 37) admirably suit the larger context (21:23–22:46), with crowds and authorities milling around and coming and going, and the preacher addressing first this part of his audience, then that. The chapter may be a montage of sayings—there is ample evidence that Luke often compiled sayings in that way, without pretense of doing otherwise; on the other hand, there is no good reason for thinking vv.2–36 cannot be a report of what Jesus said on this occasion.

2. Attempts to define the situation in Matthew’s church on the basis of this chapter are precarious. These turn on attitude toward the law (cf. vv.2–3, 23) or toward the Jewish religious leaders and lead to extended debate as to whether Matthew’s church has broken from the synagogue and is therefore appealing to it, denouncing it from without, or is still trying to win it over from within. Objections to the contrary, there is no real anachronism to warrant such discussion, which is scarcely more than fanciful, though learned, speculation. Obviously, Matthew claims to be telling us what Jesus says, not what the church says. Even if we assume that Matthew’s choice of what he includes largely reflects the situation at the time he wrote, it is naive to think twenty-first-century scholars can reconstruct the situation in detail (see Introduction, ). A certain amount of personal interest or a need to show his readers “how we got from there to here” may have led Matthew to many of his choices. The space he allots to it implies that he is interested in the continuity between the OT people of God and the church, the people of the Messiah, and how it happened that so many Jews, including the religious authorities, rejected Jesus. But Paul had similar aims in writing Romans, and no one thinks the church at Rome is theologically akin to Matthew’s church in this respect.

3. The literary context of the chapter is extremely important. Not only does Matthew 23 climax a series of controversies with the Jewish religious authorities (21:23–22:46), but it immediately follows the christologically crucial confrontation of 22:41–46. The question “What do you think about Christ?” raised by Jesus (22:42), “was not simply a theological curiosity which could be thrashed out in the seminar room,” as Garland (Intention of Matthew 23, 24) puts it; it stands at the heart of the gospel. The failure of the Pharisees to recognize Jesus as the Messiah prophesied in Scripture is itself already an indictment, the more so since they “sit in Moses’ seat” (see

); the woes that follow are, therefore, judicial and go some way toward explaining the prophesied destruction of Jerusalem in the Olivet Discourse (24:4–25:46).

4. Thus Jesus’ strong language in this chapter (“fools,” “hypocrites,” “blind guides,” “son of hell”) is not the language of personal irritation at religious competition, nor the language of a suffering church tired of the restrictions and unbelief of the synagogue in the ninth decade AD, but the language of divine warning (cf. vv.37–39) and condemnation. Those who see Matthew 23 as inconsistent with the Sermon on the Mount (esp. 5:43–48; e.g., Mohrlang, Matthew and Paul, 99–100) neglect two things: (1) they overlook the limitations inherent to the sermon itself—the love Jesus demands of his followers is more radical and more discriminating than modern liberal sentimentality usually allows—and (2) the Sermon on the Mount, not less than Matthew 23, also presents Jesus as eschatological Judge who pronounces solemn malediction on those he does not recognize and who fail to do his word (7:21–23). To read Matthew 23 as little more than Matthew’s pique about AD 85 is not only without adequate historical and literary justification but fails dismally to understand the historical Jesus, who not only taught his followers to love their enemies and gave his own life in supreme self-sacrifice but proclaimed that he came not to bring peace but a sword (10:34) and presented himself as eschatological Judge (e.g., 7:21–23; 25:31–46).

1Then Jesus said to the crowds and to his disciples: 2“The teachers of the law and the Pharisees sit in Moses’ seat. 3So you must obey them and do everything they tell you. But do not do what they do, for they do not practice what they preach. 4They tie up heavy loads and put them on men’s shoulders, but they themselves are not willing to lift a finger to move them.

5“Everything they do is done for men to see: They make their phylacteries wide and the tassels on their garments long; 6they love the place of honor at banquets and the most important seats in the synagogues; 7they love to be greeted in the marketplaces and to have men call them ‘Rabbi.’

8“But you are not to be called ‘Rabbi,’ for you have only one Master and you are all brothers. 9And do not call anyone on earth ‘father,’ for you have one Father, and he is in heaven. 10Nor are you to be called ‘teacher,’ for you have one Teacher, the Christ. 11The greatest among you will be your servant. 12For whoever exalts himself will be humbled, and whoever humbles himself will be exalted.”

COMMENTARY

1 Perhaps a year earlier, Jesus had begun to denounce the Pharisees (15:7). Subsequently, he warned his disciples of the teaching of the Pharisees and Sadducees (16:5–12). Now his warnings and denunciations are public. Current scholarship tends to see “crowds” and “his disciples” either as unhistorical, perhaps an invented transition (Walker, Heilsgeschichte, 68–70), or else as an ambiguous pastiche of historical reminiscence and contemporizing, the “crowds” referring to Jews in Matthew’s day and “disciples” to Christians in his day. All this is groundless. In the setting—the temple courts a few days before Passover (21:23)—crowds along with “disciples” and some religious authorities are to be expected. Matthew mentions both groups because he sees that the essential thrust of Jesus’ warnings is to compel men to follow him—the Messiah as defined in 22:41–46—or the religious leaders. And those who do the latter will share their leaders’ condemnation. The scene is therefore set for Jesus’ lament over Jerusalem (vv.37–39) and the judgment that follows (chs. 24–25; cf. Garland, Intention of Matthew 23, 34–41).

2 Only here in Matthew do the Greek words behind “teachers of the law” and “Pharisees” take separate articles, implying two separate groups (cf. Grammar, 758–59). Therein lies a problem, for whereas “scribes” (NIV, “teachers of the law”) had teaching authority, the Pharisees as such did not. Many were laymen without authority or responsibility to teach. Grundmann suggests that kai (“and”) is epexegetical (“scribes, that is, the Pharisees”); Gaechter, that the phrase is a hendiadys (“scribes of the Pharisees”). But both views are unnatural and do not account for the use of “Pharisees” in ch. 23.

On the other hand, some hold that “Pharisees” represents Matthew’s opponents in AD 85 and is therefore anachronistically inserted into the gospel (Kilpatrick, Origins, 113; Bonnard; and many others). Garland (Intention of Matthew 23, 44 n. 32, and 218–21), however, has pointed out that Luke attacks the Pharisees as vigorously as Matthew; yet no one holds that Pharisaic Judaism was a major concern for Luke’s church. Walker (Heilsgeschichte, 20), van Tilborg (Jewish Leaders, 106), and Garland (pp. 43–46) conclude that all categories of Jewish leaders (Pharisee, scribe, Sadducee, chief priest, etc.) in Matthew lose all historical distinction and become synonymous, ciphers for Jewish leadership in general that failed to recognize Jesus as Messiah. But some passages preserve fine historical distinctions (e.g., 21:23), and it is intrinsically unlikely that a writer as sensitive to Jewish background as Matthew would use words so clumsily. The problem is one of demanding too narrow a definition of certain categories and, when they don’t fit, charging the writer with anachronism.

A better approach is possible (see Carson, “Jewish Leaders”). The “teachers of the law,” most of them Pharisees in Matthew’s time, were primarily responsible for teaching. “Pharisee” defines a loose theological position, not a profession like “teacher.” The two terms are distinct, even if there is much overlap on the personal level. An analogy might be the Puritan John Owen’s denouncing “the prelates and Roman Catholics” and then continuing his discourse with epithets like “you prelates, you Catholics,” “you prelates, Catholics.” “Prelates” defines roles but does not mean that the only prelates are Catholics (some were Anglicans); the other—“Catholics”—defines theological position but does not require all Catholics to be prelates. This is how Jesus was attacking a theological position and those who promulgated it. Garland (Intention of Matthew 23, 117–23) argues that even if the ostensible targets of the “woes” are Jewish leaders, his immediate pastoral concern is to warn Christian leaders against similar hypocrisy.

These leaders “sit in Moses’ seat.” E. L. Sukenik (Ancient Synagogues in Palestine and Greece [London: Oxford Univ. Press, 1934], 57–61) has shown that synagogues had a stone seat at the front where the authoritative teacher, usually a grammateus (“teacher of the law,” GK 1208), sat. Moreover, “to sit on X’s seat” often means “to succeed X” (Ex 11:5; 12:29; 1Ki 1:35, 46; 2:12; 16:11; 2Ki 15:12; Ps 132:12; cf. Josephus, Ant. 7.353 [14.5]; 18.2 [1.1]). This would imply that the “teachers of the law” are Moses’ legal successors, possessing all his authority—a view the scribes themselves held (m. Sanh. 11:3; cf. Sir 45:15–17; m. ʾAbot 1:1; m. Yebam. 2:4; 9:3). Nevertheless, there is no convincing evidence that this seat was actually described in the first century as the “chair of Moses” (cf. Davies and Allison; Kenneth G. C. Newport, The Sources and Sitz im Leben of Matthew 23 [JSNTSup 117; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic, 1995], 119–24).

3 The astounding authority conceded “the teachers of the law and the Pharisees” in v.2 becomes explicit in v.3. Even if the emphasis in v.3 falls at the end, where Jesus denounces the Jewish leaders’ hypocrisy, the beginning of the verse gives them full authority in all they teach, even if they do not live up to it. Panta hosa (“everything”) is a strong expression and cannot be limited to “that teaching of the law that is in Jesus’ view a faithful interpretation of it”; it covers everything the leaders teach, including the oral tradition (Garland, Intention of Matthew 23, 48–49; contra Allen; Plummer; Stonehouse, Witness of Matthew, 196–97; and others). Nor does the text say their authority rests in their roles but not in their doctrine; on the contrary, v.3 affirms their doctrine but condemns their practice. Meier (Law and History, 106, 119, 156) argues that this pertains only to Jesus’ earlier ministry but not to the church from the resurrection on. But this settles nothing, because Jesus has during his ministry repeatedly criticized the scribes and Pharisees for their teaching, not least their oral tradition (5:21–48; 15:3–14; 16:12), and will do so again (23:16–36), and he has just finished exposing their ignorance of the Scriptures (22:41–46).

Many scholars hold that vv.2–3 reflect an earlier tradition—a time when Matthew’s church was still part of and under the authority of the Jewish leaders—and that somehow that early tradition was awkwardly preserved in a book that, on the whole, reflects later theological developments. But it is doubtful whether there ever was such a time (cf. Ac 3–4); in any case, the theory makes Matthew an extraordinarily incompetent editor.

The way around this thorny point, according to Schweizer, is to recognize that Matthew preserves vv.2–3 because the rupture between synagogue and church has not yet taken place—and so Matthew incorporates vv.2–3 to mollify and if possible win Jewish opponents, while at the same time giving a qualified interpretation of the statement in line with 5:17–20. The remarkable thing, however, is that vv.2–3 are not in themselves qualified but are about as strong as can be imagined. If Matthew was interested in preventing a threatening rupture in the alleged union between synagogue and church, why does he not elsewhere mitigate his strong denunciation of the Jewish leaders’ teaching and include the praise of the scribe (Mk 12:34)? First-century readers were no less alert than we. Could they not see that the gospel repeatedly criticizes the Pharisees’ doctrine, making the assurance of vv.2–3 empty and mocking?

Before proposing a solution, we must consider the force of v.4.

4 The Qumran covenanters called the Pharisees “the expounders of smooth things,” because their casuistry made life easier than the covenanters themselves approved. To reconcile this Dead Sea Scrolls evidence with v.4, some have held that though the Pharisees made things easier for themselves, proving the covenanters right, they made it harder for everyone else; thus v.4 is correct (cf. Hill). The distinction is doubtful. Most Pharisees, including rabbis, worked in some full-time trade. They were not secluded scholars but active members of society. It is hard, therefore, to see how their rulings could benefit only themselves. We must not forget that the Dead Sea Scrolls came out of a monastic community that would negatively judge all rules less rigorous than their own. The real question about v.4 is whether (1) it contrasts in some way with vv.2–3 or (2) it merely illustrates v.3b. The latter will not stand close scrutiny (cf. Garland, Intention of Matthew 23, 50ff.).

Verse 4 speaks of the leaders’ putting “heavy loads on men’s shoulders”—laying down irksome rules—and then refusing “to lift a finger” to help. This does not mean they were unwilling to obey burdensome rules themselves (contra Bornkamm, “End-Expectation and the Church,” 24; Schweizer) but that they refused to help those who collapsed under their rules (Manson, Sayings of Jesus, 101; McNeile; Filson; Garland, Intention of Matthew 23, 51). This is the natural interpretation of kinēsai (“to move,” GK 3075; cf. BDAG, 545) and fits the allusion to 11:28–30. Thus the Pharisees are unlike Jesus, whose burden is light and who promises rest. But this means that v.4 does more than illustrate v.3b; it shows how the Pharisees are by their teaching doing more harm than good.

Thus vv.2–3 stand alone in their emphasis; their contexts flatly contradict them. It will not do to treat vv.2–3 as a concession to the leaders that Matthew then modifies, a “rhetorical preparation” drawn from conservative tradition that the evangelist proceeds to modify (Banks, Jesus and the Law, 176; Garland, Intention of Matthew 23, 54–55), for the tension is too sharp. The only way to make sense of the text is to follow Jeremias (New Testament Theology, 210) and France (NICNT), who see in vv.2–3 an instance of biting irony bordering on sarcasm. This position is self-consistent and does not weaken the strong statements in vv.2–3. Moreover, it is strengthened by the verb ekathisan (“sit,” GK 2767) in v.2. The aorist is not normally translated as a present. In response, many point out that the same aorist verb is used in Mark 16:19; Hebrews 1:3; 8:1; 10:12; Revelation 3:21—all of which refer to Jesus as still sitting. But that misses the point. The emphasis in each of these instances is not that Jesus is still sitting, though that is doubtless presupposed, but on the fact that as a result of his triumph he sat down. The aorist does not require that the action be at one point in time; it is the context that in each of these instances presupposes it. Moreover, the gnomic aorist in the indicative mood (which is how the NIV’s “sit” takes the Greek in v.2) is so rare in the NT that it should not be our first option. But if vv.2–3a are ironic, then the aorist can have its natural force: the teachers of the law and the Pharisees sat down in Moses’ seat (NASB, “have seated themselves,” which may be overtranslated but has the right idea). The Jewish religious leaders have “presumed” to sit in Moses’ seat (so Adalbert Merx, Das Evangelium Matthaeus [Berlin: Reimer, 1902]; Moulton, Grammar: Prolegomena, 458; Zahn). It is, of course, of no help to say that such a translation must be followed in v.3a by “therefore, pay no attention to what they say” (contra Plummer; Banks, Jesus and the Law, 175; Garland, Intention of Matthew 23, 48), for v.3a continues the irony. This generates a neat chiasm:

A: v.2—the leaders have taken on Moses’ teaching authority—irony

B: v.3a—do what they say—irony
B': v.3b—do not do what they do—nonironical advice

A': v.4—their teaching merely binds men—nonironical advice

Thus the first two elements are ironic, and the last two reveal in reverse order the painful futility of following the teachers of the law. Jesus warns the crowds and his disciples in the sharpest way possible. The reluctance of many scholars to admit that vv.2–3 are biting irony overlooks the tone of much of this chapter (e.g., vv.23–28) and superb parallels elsewhere in the NT (e.g., 1Co 4:8a, 10).

5–7 These verses illustrate some of the leaders’ practices not to be copied (v.3b; cf. Mk 12:38–39; Lk 20:46). Jesus accuses them of being time servers and applause seekers (cf. 6:1–18). “Phylacteries” (v.5) were small leather or parchment boxes containing a piece of vellum inscribed with four texts from the law (Ex 13:1–10, 11–16; Dt 6:4–9; 11:13–21). They were worn on the arm or tied to the forehead (Ex 13:9, 16; Dt 6:8; 11:18, though originally these passages were probably metaphorical). The peculiar term used here only in the NT has pagan associations (“amulet”) and may insinuate that the tôtāpōt (“frontlets,” as they were called, though they are now referred to by Jews as t^epillîn [lit., “prayers”]) had become like pagan charms (cf. ZPEB, 4:786–87; Str-B, 4:250–76; Urbach, Sages, 1:130, 366–67).

To show their piety to the world, these leaders made large, showy phylacteries. The same ostentation affected the length of tassels, worn by all Jews (including Jesus, 9:20; 14:36) on the corners of the outer garment, in obedience to Numbers 15:37–41 and Deuteronomy 22:12. (The view that kraspeda [“tassels,” GK 3192] means “borders” [KJV] of garments is unlikely in this context; cf. BDAG, 564; on the details of Jewish ritualism, see Schürer, History of the Jewish People, 2:479ff.)

Seeking a reputation for piety goes with seeking places of honor at great dinners or the most important seats—as close as possible to the law scrolls—in the synagogues (v.6). “Rabbi” (v.7), the transliteration of the Hebrew word meaning “my master” or “my teacher,” was used in Hillel’s time, a generation before Jesus, but it probably did not signify official ordination until after the fall of Jerusalem. The title, originally merely a mark of respect, was applied to Jesus (26:25, 49; Jn 1:38; 3:26). But like other common terms, it became inflated. By Talmudic times a rabbi’s status was immense. His disciple had to obey him without question, never walk beside or in front of him, never greet him first, and so forth (cf. Moses Abelbach, “The Relations between Master and Disciple in the Talmudic Age,” in Essays Presented to Chief Rabbi Brodie [ed. H. J. Zimmels; London: Soncino, 1966–1967], 1:1–24; Albright and Mann). The situation had not developed so far in Jesus’ day, but if the process had begun, one can well imagine Jesus’ exposing it (esp. in light of 18:1–5; 20:25–28; see Introduction, ).

8–10 The “you” (v.8) is emphatic, but this does not mean that vv.8–10 are out of place in an address before a mixed audience. It is not implausible that out of the crowd Jesus is here speaking primarily to his disciples, just as he later addresses the Pharisees directly (vv.13–36). A good preacher knows that forthright words about what is required of believers can be at the same time a powerful incentive to decision on the part of the sympathetic but uncommitted. These verses could, therefore, serve as warning not to follow the “teachers of the law and the Pharisees” while laying down normative patterns for relationships among Jesus’ disciples.

Unlike the religious authorities, Jesus says, his disciples are not to be called “Rabbi” (v.8), for they have but one didaskalos (GK 1437; better rendered “Teacher” than “Master”). The “one Teacher” is not God but Jesus himself (cf. v.10), but either way, in view of 22:41–46; 23:4, 13–36, this verse not only proscribes self-exaltation in teaching divine things but rejects the authority of the religious teachers of Jesus’ day. Such authority has been taken from them (see

). Among those who follow Jesus, a brotherly relationship (see

;

;

;

) is required.

Verse 9 moves from “Rabbi” or “Teacher” to “father.” To the best of our knowledge, rabbis were not directly addressed as “fathers.” Some have, therefore, argued that the text is referring to the patriarchs and is saying, “Do not rely on your racial tie to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob” (cf. 3:9; so J. T. Townsend, “Matthew xxiii.9,” JTS 12 [1961]: 56–59; Schweizer; and others). Nothing in the context supports this, still less the suggestion that Greek Stoicism stands in the background (van Tilborg, Jewish Leaders, 138). But K. Kohler (“Abba, Father: Title of Spiritual Leader and Saint,” JQR 13 [1900–1901]: 567–80) showed long ago that “the fathers” became a very common way of referring to earlier teachers of the law, especially the great masters (cf. Urbach, Sages, 1:186; 2:906 n. 38; hence the Mishnaic tractate ʾAbot, “The Fathers”). The practice may have stretched back to the days of the prophets (cf. 2Ki 2:12).

“On earth” does not mean the “fathers” were alive in Jesus’ time but simply contrasts them with the Father in heaven. Their domain is not exalted enough to warrant the latter title. This explains the change from the passive (“do not be called,” vv.8, 10) to the active (“do not call [i.e., someone else,” v.9): “do not be called” would be inappropriate since the title was not bestowed until after the teachers of law died and were memorialized. There may be an allusion to Malachi 2:7–10. Like the priests of Malachi’s day whose teaching caused many to stumble, so the revered Jewish fathers have so misinterpreted Scripture that they must not be called “fathers.” There is but one Father, God.

But where, then, is the voice of authoritative teaching? Jesus returns to that theme in v.10, completing an A-B-A chiasm. Thus v.10 largely repeats v.8, using a different word for “Teacher” (see Notes); but it is not repetitious, still less anticlimactic, because it ends by identifying the sole Teacher as the Christ, the Messiah (Kingsbury, Structure, 93). This not only picks up the theme of 1:1 and 16:16 but echoes the confrontation in 22:41–46 regarding Messiah. Jesus’ enemies, the certified teachers of Israel, could not answer basic biblical questions about the Messiah. Now he, Jesus the Messiah, declares in the wake of that travesty that he himself is the only one qualified to sit in Moses’ seat—to succeed him as authoritative Teacher of God’s will and mind.

Two further observations need to be made. First, it is untrue to Jesus’ teaching to deduce from this passage that no Jewish leader was sympathetic to his cause or that there is no place for distinctions in roles or respect for leaders in his church, any more than his prohibition of oaths (5:33–37) means it is unchristian to swear an oath in court. Certainly Jesus was not justifying that particularly perverse pride that cloaks itself in discourtesy. Yet once this has been noted, we must say that the risen Christ is as displeased with those in his church who demand unquestioning submission to themselves and their opinions and confuse a reputation for showy piety with godly surrender to his teaching as he ever was with any Pharisee.

Second, the continuing modern discussion as to what these verses show about the structure of Matthew’s church finds no valid source here. For instance, Hummel (Auseinandersetzung, 27–28) holds that vv.8–10 show that there must have been a sort of Christian rabbinate in Matthew’s day that Matthew was combating or attempting to guide. That may be so, but the text does not say so. In any case, other reasons for Matthew’s including this material spring readily to mind. If Matthew is concerned to show Christian-Jewish readers of his own day “how we got from there to here,” and if this material is basically authentic, no further reason is needed. The truth is that we know about Matthew’s situation only from what he chose to write about Jesus, not a late first-century church.

11–12 The substance of v.11 is in 20:26: Matthew repeatedly emphasizes humility. For instances of exalting oneself, see

; of humbling oneself, see

(cf. Pr 15:33; 22:4; Jas 4:6; 1Pe 5:5–6). “Will be your servant,” “will be humbled,” and “will be exalted” are pure futures without imperatival force (contra Zerwick, Biblical Greek, para. 280). The latter two could not be otherwise; so v.11 should be read the same way. The principle enunciated in these verses reflects not natural law but kingdom law: the eschatological reward will humble the self-exalted and exalt the self-humbled, after the pattern in Ezekiel 21:26. What is commended is humility, not humbug; service, not servility. The supreme example—the Messiah himself—makes this clear (20:26–28), for his astonishing humility and service to others was untainted by servility and was perfectly compatible with exercising the highest authority. Having done the greatest service, he has been most highly exalted.

NOTES

4 For the variant “and hard to carry” (as in Lk 11:46), see Metzger, Textual Commentary, 59–60.

8 For literature on the question of whether this use of “Rabbi” is anachronistic, see Garland, Intention of Matthew 23, 58; Sigal, Halakhah of Jesus.

9 The Greek word order suggests the rendering “for, for you there is only one Father—the heavenly Father” (Moule, Idiom Book, 166).

10 Καθηγητής (kathēgētēs, “teacher”) is used only here in the NT. Many suggestions have been made as to why it should replace “rabbi” and διδάσκαλος (didaskalos, “teacher”) in v.8. Some have assumed it to be Matthew’s translation for Gentile readers (Grundmann; Strecker, Weg der Gerechtigkeit, 217) or an addition to dissociate Jesus from Hellenistic teachers as much as from “teachers of the law” (Frankemölle, Jahwebund und Kirche Christi, 99–100). C. Spicq (“Une Allusion au Docteur de Justice dans Matthieu, XXIII, 10?” RB 66 [1959]: 393–96) suggests the word is the Greek equivalent of the Hebrew (môreh, “teacher), used in the Dead Sea Scrolls for the “Teacher of Righteousness” at Qumran. Jesus is then seen as denouncing the sectarian religious authorities as well as the scribes. But the linguistic evidence is unconvincing, and it seems wiser to take καθηγητής, kathēgētēs, as a synonym for διδάσκαλος, didaskalos, possibly prompted by homophony with ἐκάθισαν (ekathisan, “they sat down”) and καθέδρα (kathedra, “seat”) in v.2. “This would be further evidence that the authority of the scribes and Pharisees is null and void for Matthew” (Garland, Intention of Matthew 23, 60 n. 100).

OVERVIEW

Compare the six woes of Luke 11:37–54. The overlaps are considerable, but the differences in order and wording are no less remarkable. The three chief options are (1) Luke preserves the correct setting, and Matthew adds the woes to the end of 23:1–12; (2) Matthew preserves the correct setting, and Luke inserts some of the woes into his narrative; and (3) Jesus pronounced such woes on the Pharisees fairly frequently, perhaps following the pattern of the six woes of Isaiah 5:8–23 or the five woes of Habakkuk 2:6–20. (For discussion, see Marshall, Gospel of Luke, 491–93.)

The seven woes Matthew records fit into a neat chiastic pattern:

A: First woe (v.13)—failing to recognize Jesus as the Messiah

B: Second woe (v.15)—superficially zealous, yet doing more harm than good
- C: Third woe (vv.16–22)—misguided use of the Scripture
  - D: Fourth woe (vv.23–24)—fundamental failure to discern the thrust of Scripture
- C': Fifth woe (vv.25–26)—misguided use of the Scripture
B': Sixth woe (vv.27–28)—superficially zealous, yet doing more harm than good

A': Seventh woe (vv.29–32)—heirs of those who failed to recognize the prophets

What stands out is the centrality of rightly understanding the Scriptures—a theme that is reflected in all the preceding controversies and is no less related to Jesus’ rejection of the claims of the teachers of the law.

(a) First woe (23:13 [14])

13“Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You shut the kingdom of heaven in men’s faces. You yourselves do not enter, nor will you let those enter who are trying to.”

COMMENTARY

13 [14] Verse 14 must be taken as an interpolation, derived from Mark 12:40; Luke 20:47. This is made clear, not only by its absence from the best and earliest Matthew MSS, but from the fact that the MSS that do include it divide on where to place it—before or after v.13. (For the meaning of v.14, see Derrett, Studies in the New Testament, 8–27.)

Verse 13 contains the first of seven “woes.” A “woe” can be a compassionate “alas!” (24:19), a strong condemnation (11:21), or a combination of the two (18:17; 26:24). In Matthew 23, condemnation predominates, but it is neither vindictive nor spiteful so much as judicial. Jesus the Messiah pronounces judgment.

“Teachers of the law” and “Pharisees” are anarthrous from here on throughout the chapter (see

;

;

; Introduction, ). (For “hypocrites,” see

; for “kingdom of heaven,” see

.) The syntax of v.13 (see Notes) assumes that the messianic reign has begun. The teachers of the law and the Pharisees are “hypocrites” since they claim to teach God’s way but refuse to enter the messianic kingdom and hinder those who try to do so. This does not refer to their casuistry that obscured fundamental questions of conduct and made it difficult for people to obey God’s law fully, though this is the dominant interpretation (e.g., Hill). Conduct is not mentioned here, only entrance into the kingdom. Though proper conduct is essential, it admits no one into the kingdom.

The last controversy (22:41–46) reveals the real failure: the teachers of the law and the Pharisees do not enter the kingdom because they refuse to recognize who Jesus is. When the crowds begin to marvel at Jesus and suggest he may be the Messiah, the authorities do all they can to dissuade them (cf. 9:33–34; 11:19; 12:23–24; 21:15). The sheep of Israel are “lost” (10:6; 15:24) because the shepherds have led them astray. The “woe” pronounced on the authorities is, therefore, of a piece with 18:6–7.

NOTES

13 The present substantival participle τοὺς εἰσερχομένους (tous eiserchomenous, “those entering”) need not in itself have present force but can refer to sustained effort in the past (as in 2:20; for discussion, see BDF, para. 339 [3]; Grammar, 858–64, 891–92; Zerwick, Biblical Greek, para. 274). However, in the context of the present finite verb οὐδὲ ... ἀφίετε (oude ... aphiete, “nor ... do you permit”), there can be no doubt that the action envisaged by both participle and finite verb is portrayed as simultaneous with the speaker’s words.

(b) Second woe (23:15)

15“Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You travel over land and sea to win a single convert, and when he becomes one, you make him twice as much a son of hell as you are.”

COMMENTARY

15 External sources for assessing the Pharisees’ zeal to win converts are not easy to interpret. Scholars are sharply divided as to how much proselytism took place, and how successful it was. A sizable body of primarily older scholarship argues that the first century AD until the fall of Jerusalem marks a remarkable period of Jewish missionary zeal (see esp. B. J. Bamberger, Proselytism in the Talmudic Period [Cincinnati, Ohio: Hebrew Union, 1939]; W. G. Braude, Jewish Proselytizing in the First Five Centuries of the Common Era [Providence, R.I.: Brown Univ. Press, 1940]; F. M. Derwacter, Preparing the Way for Paul: The Proselyte Movement in Later Judaism [New York: Macmillan, 1930]; Jeremias, Jesus’ Promise, 11ff.; cf. Ro 2:24). Clearly both Philo and Josephus (esp. the latter’s Against Apion) constitute attempts to commend Judaism to outsiders. Not the least important fact, as W. Paul Bowers observed (“Studies in Paul’s Understanding of His Mission” [PhD diss., Cambridge University, 1976]), is that there is no evidence that Jews in any way opposed Paul’s or anyone else’s Christian Gentile mission; rather, what they disputed was the basis of admission to the people of God.

On the other hand, Scot McKnight (A Light among the Gentiles: Jewish Mission in the Second Temple Period [Minneapolis: Fortress, 1991], esp. 106–8) argues that much of the Pharisees’ activity, especially in Palestine, was aimed at converting to their views those who had already become loose adherents of Judaism (cf. Josephus, Ant. 20.34–48 [2.3–4]). Whether the scribes and Pharisees were winning raw pagans or sympathizers of Judaism, they were winning them to their own position. Such converts, therefore, would not be converts to Judaism but to Pharisaism. Pharisees and teachers of the law would travel extensively to make one “proselyte”—a word used in the NT only here and in Acts 2:11; 6:5; 13:43, and one that at this time probably refers to those who have been circumcised and have pledged to submit to the full rigors of Jewish law, including the oral tradition for which the Pharisees were so zealous.

Jesus did not criticize the fact of the Pharisees’ extensive missionary effort but its results: the “converts” became twice as much a “son of hell” (see

) as the scribes and Pharisees who won them—i.e., someone who belongs to hell and is destined for hell. This means that the Pharisees’ interpretations and the rules deduced from Scripture became so fully those of their converts that they “out-Phariseed” the Pharisees. Psychologically, this is entirely possible, as every teacher of converts knows. As for the converts of whom Jesus was speaking, the Pharisees’ teaching locked them into a theological frame that left no room for Jesus Messiah and therefore no possibility of entering the messianic kingdom.

16“Woe to you, blind guides! You say, ‘If anyone swears by the temple, it means nothing; but if anyone swears by the gold of the temple, he is bound by his oath.’ 17You blind fools! Which is greater: the gold, or the temple that makes the gold sacred? 18You also say, ‘If anyone swears by the altar, it means nothing; but if anyone swears by the gift on it, he is bound by his oath.’ 19You blind men! Which is greater: the gift, or the altar that makes the gift sacred? 20Therefore, he who swears by the altar swears by it and by everything on it. 21And he who swears by the temple swears by it and by the one who dwells in it. 22And he who swears by heaven swears by God’s throne and by the one who sits on it.”

COMMENTARY

16–22 See

for the background and thrust of these verses. The striking designation “blind guides” (v.16) was introduced at 15:14. The “temple” here is naos (see

Because of the references to the temple—its gold, altar, and offerings—a surprising number of scholars focus on Matthew’s attitude toward the cultic aspects of the temple (Hummel, Auseinandersetzung, 78–82; van Tilborg, Jewish Leaders, 105). This quite misses the point (Gaston, No Stone, 94). The pericope simply uses the language of the cultus in discussing the kinds of distinctions in oaths often favored in Jewish circles. Saul Lieberman (Greek in Jewish Palestine [New York: Jewish Theological Seminary, 1942], 115–43), after studying the difficult and conflicting Jewish evidence, argues that the rabbis fought the abuses of oaths and vows among the unlearned masses. This is doubtless so. But the way they fought them was by differentiating between what was binding and what was not. In that sense, wittingly or unwittingly, they encouraged evasive oaths and therefore lying. Jesus cut through these complexities by insisting that men must tell the truth.

Some writers have supposed that 5:33–37—which, formally at least, abolishes oaths—contradicts 23:20–22, which maintains that all oaths are binding but does not abolish them. In fact, however, vv.20–22 provide the rationale for 5:33–37. All oaths are in some way related to God. All are, therefore, binding, and thus evasive oaths are disallowed. On the other hand, the heart of the issue is telling the truth. It is probably a new kind of casuistry that, failing to see this, insists that Jesus in 5:33–37 abolishes all oaths of every kind.

In the context of Matthew 23, Jesus charges the teachers of the law and the Pharisees with mishandling the Scriptures they claimed to defend and promulgate.

REFLECTIONS

References to the temple and the cultus, which no longer existed after AD 70, do not prove that this gospel was composed before that date, since Matthew, writing later, may be incorporating older material and describing what Jesus said at the time of his ministry. But the pericope is consistent with an early date. More important, if we think instead that Matthew writes about AD 85 but carefully preserves the right tense and distinctions appropriate to Jesus’ ministry, why should we not expect him to be equally careful elsewhere?

(d) Fourth woe (23:23–24)

23“Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You give a tenth of your spices—mint, dill and cummin. But you have neglected the more important matters of the law—justice, mercy and faithfulness. You should have practiced the latter, without neglecting the former. 24You blind guides! You strain out a gnat but swallow a camel.”

COMMENTARY

23–24 The OT law on tithing (Dt 14:22–29) specifies grain, wine, and oil, though Leviticus 27:30 is more comprehensive. Certainly in the first century, there was debate about how far the law of tithing should extend. The consensus was to include greens and garden herbs (v.23; Str-B, 1:932). Jesus does not condemn scrupulous observance in these things (“without neglecting the former”) but insists that to fuss over them while neglecting the “more important matters of the law” (cf. 22:34–40)—justice, mercy, and pistis (GK 4411; here rightly translated “faithfulness”)—is to strain out a gnat but swallow a camel (v.24), both unclean creatures.

Several points deserve notice.

1. The “weightier” matters are not the “more difficult” or “harder” but the “more central,” “most decisive” (Ridderbos, Coming of the Kingdom, 302) or (as in NIV) “more important” versus “peripheral” or trifling ones (cf. TDNT, 1:554, 558; Kaiser, “Weightier and Lighter Matters,” 184).

2. Yet it goes much too far to interpret vv.23–24 as expanding the love command into the central feature of the law (see

and literature cited there; also Garland, Intention of Matthew 23, 139).

3. In essence, what Jesus accuses the teachers of the law and the Pharisees of is a massive distortion of God’s will as revealed in Scripture. At a fundamental level, they fail to focus on the thrust of Scripture, a point made with equal force in the two references to Hosea 6:6 in this gospel (see

;

4. The chiastic structure of the “woes” centers on this fourth one, where the basic failure of the Pharisaic teachers is laid bare. Moving out from this center, it becomes clear that where Scripture is interpreted by the Pharisees, there is danger of misappropriation of truth (woes 3 and 5) and of corrupting other people (woes 2 and 6), coupled with blindness to true revelation when it comes supremely in the person of Jesus the Messiah (woes 1 and 7).

5. All this presupposes that Jesus holds readers of the OT responsible for discerning its purpose and recognizing its most important emphases (see

). Only those who do this please God and recognize the Messiah (cf. Lk 24:44–46; Jn 5:39–40).

6. The current debate over the words “without neglecting the former”—namely, whether they show Jesus or Matthew as a very conservative interpreter of the law, or whether they can possibly come from the historical Jesus (cf. Garland, Intention of Matthew 23, 140 n. 66; Westerholm, Jesus and Scribal Authority, 58–59)—badly misses the point. For neither Jesus nor Matthew do these verses focus on the problem of continuity/discontinuity between the OT and the reign of Jesus Messiah but on the relative importance of material within the OT. Jesus describes what the Pharisees should have done; he is not here questioning how the “former” will relate to the reign he now inaugurates (12:28) or the church he will build (16:19), any more than in vv.16–22 he discusses what role the temple altar plays under the new covenant.

NOTES

24 Black (Aramaic Approach, 175–76) points out that in Aramaic this saying would be something of a pun, since “gnat” and “camel” sound much alike: (qalmā ʾ) and (galmā ʾ) respectively.

(e) Fifth woe (23:25–26)

25“Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You clean the outside of the cup and dish, but inside they are full of greed and self-indulgence. 26Blind Pharisee! First clean the inside of the cup and dish, and then the outside also will be clean.”

COMMENTARY

25–26 The most common interpretation of these verses is that Jesus begins with the metaphor of the cup and dish (v.25a), reveals his nonmetaphorical concerns in the last words of v.25, then returns to his metaphor in v.26 now that its real purpose has been exposed. The Pharisees have been occupied with external religion instead of that of the inner person. Within themselves they remain “full of greed and self-indulgence [akrasia, found in the NT only here and in 1Co 7:5].” In the metaphor, cleaning the inside is basic and guarantees cleanliness of the outside.

Jacob Neusner (“First Cleanse the Inside,” NTS 22 [1976]: 486–95) holds, largely on form-critical grounds, that pre–AD 70 Judaism was divided on the issue of clean vessels. The Hillelites thought that cleaning the inside of a vessel declared it “clean.” The Shammaites, predominant before AD 70, held it was necessary to cleanse both inside and outside; the one did not affect the status of the other (cf. m. Kelim 2:1; 25:1, 7–9; y. Ber. 8:2). Consequently, Jesus could not be refuting the Hillelites (who did not become predominant until after AD 70), telling them first to cleanse the inside, since they would have cleaned only the inside. Rather, the admonition was for the Shammaites.

From this debate about cleansing, it is argued, the saying was variously interpreted and applied (cf. Lk 11:41) in metaphorical ways. Garland (Intention of Matthew 23, 148–50) thinks the first part of v.25 is literal but was taken over by Matthew to make his point. In his view, the ek clause should not be rendered “full of greed and self-indulgence” but “full because of greed and self-indulgence” (Turner, Syntax, 260; Schweizer, McNeile, and others think this is possible). In other words, Matthew turns the original saying into one that says the inside is most important but then draws “attention to the fact that the vessels were filled with food and drink which was [sic] obtained unjustly and consumed intemperately—a circumstance which cultic washing could not cleanse—and ultimately made the entire issue moot” (Garland, Intention of Matthew 23, 149).

This interpretation will not do. The Pharisees were not as a class intemperate in food and drink but abstemious (cf. Lk 18:11–12). Moreover, if they were full because of greed and self-indulgence, the preceding “but” is nonsensical: the first clause should read “you empty the cup and dish,” not “you clean the outside.” Rather, the kind of historical background envisaged by Neusner is being used by Jesus to point away from the ceremonial question altogether. The Pharisees (here Shammaites) debate about what must be cleansed for a cup to be clean, without seeing that they themselves need to become inwardly clean. This approach is very close to the traditional interpretation of these verses (above; cf. Westerholm, Jesus and Scribal Authority, 85–90). Yet it also hints that Jesus holds that OT ceremonial distinctions have moral implications the avoiding of which betrays deep misunderstanding.

“Blind Pharisee!” (v.26, the singular has generic force), says the one who came to save his people from their sin (1:21), “first clean the inside ..., and then the outside also will be clean.” “Inside” does not here encourage privatized pietism but total moral renewal in terms of “justice, mercy and faithfulness.” The “outside,” the bits of religious observance easily seen by men, will then take care of itself.

(f) Sixth woe (23:27–28)

27“Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You are like whitewashed tombs, which look beautiful on the outside but on the inside are full of dead men’s bones and everything unclean. 28In the same way, on the outside you appear to people as righteous but on the inside you are full of hypocrisy and wickedness.”

COMMENTARY

27–28 During the month of Adar, just before Passover, it was customary to whitewash with lime graves or grave sites that might not be instantly identified as such (v.27), in order to warn pilgrims to steer clear of the area and avoid ritual uncleanness from contact with corpses (cf. m. Šeqal. 1:1; m. Kelim 1:4; m. Moʿed Qaṭ. 1:2; m. Maʿaś. Š. 5:1). Such uncleanness would prevent participation in the Passover (m. Kelim 1:4; for similar concerns, see Jn 11:55; 18:28). But in that case, whitewashed tombs would not have been objects of beauty (“which look beautiful on the outside”) but of disgust. They were places to be shunned (cf. Lk 11:44, which mentions neither whitewash nor beauty).

Various solutions have been put forward (for a list, see S. T. Lachs, “On Matthew 23:27–28,” HTR 68 [1975]: 385–88). Perhaps the best proposal is Garland’s (Intention of Matthew 23, 150–57), who suggests that the graves were beautiful because of their structure (cf. v.29), not their whitewash. Monuments were normally considered pure unless marked with whitewash; so if the memorial was built right over a grave, it would probably be whitewashed. Thus Jesus’ mention of whitewashing has nothing to do with the beauty of sepulchers but is a further thrust at the Pharisees based on their distinctive preoccupation with avoiding defilement from corpses (cf. b. B. Qam. 57a; b. B. Meṣ. 85b). Jesus is saying that the scribes and Pharisees are sources of uncleanness just as much as the whitewashed graves are. There may also be an allusion to the white linen clothes that some men, impressed with their own eminence, used to wear (cf. b. Qidd. 72a; b. Šabb. 25b; b. Ned. 20b; Josephus, J.W. 2.123 [8.3]).

In the context of Matthew 23, the point Jesus was making is not that the scribes and Pharisees were deliberate and self-conscious but that in their scrupulous regulations they appeared magnificently virtuous but were actually contaminating the people. This woe parallels the second (v.15). The supreme irony is that their preoccupation with their law (nomos, GK 3795) left them steeped in anomia—a general term for “wickedness” (v.28, GK 490; cf. 13:41; see TDNT, 4:1085–86), but which may here suggest that their fundamental approach to the law was in fact, from the perspective of Jesus’ hermeneutic, plain “lawlessness.”

(g) Seventh woe (23:29–32)

29“Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You build tombs for the prophets and decorate the graves of the righteous. 30And you say, ‘If we had lived in the days of our forefathers, we would not have taken part with them in shedding the blood of the prophets.’ 31So you testify against yourselves that you are the descendants of those who murdered the prophets. 32Fill up, then, the measure of the sin of your forefathers!”

COMMENTARY

29–30 Derrett (Studies in the New Testament, 2:68ff.) denies that Pharisees in Jesus’ day would have been involved in building memorial tombs, but his evidence is late and may well represent reaction against earlier excesses (cf. Garland, Intention of Matthew 23, 164). Herod led the way in tomb building (cf. Josephus, Ant. 16.179–82 [7.1]; 18.108 [4.6]; 20.95 [4.3])—to atone for his attempts to plunder them! Jewish building was more likely to be commemorative; by erecting monuments, the religious leaders thought themselves morally and spiritually above their forebears who had persecuted the prophets whose monuments they were building (v.29). They believed that they would not have joined their forebears in murdering the prophets (v.30)—just as many Christians today naively think they would have responded better to Jesus than the disciples or the crowds that cried, “Crucify him!”

31 But the distinction the Jews draw in v.30 Jesus now denies. Their own saying (not the tomb building) testifies against them. They speak of their forefathers and so acknowledge themselves to be the sons (NIV, “descendants”) of those who shed the blood of the prophets. But Jesus sees further irony here, based on the ambiguity of “fathers” and “sons” (see

). The Jews think in terms of their physical descent. Jesus responds by saying in effect that they are sons all right—more than they realize. They show their paternity by resembling their fathers. While piously claiming to be different, they are already plotting ways to put an end to Jesus (21:38–39, 46).

32 The conclusion is defiant and ironical. The idea behind “the measure of the sin” is that God can tolerate only so much sin; then, when the measure is “full,” he must respond in wrath (cf. Ge 15:16; 1Th 2:14–16). The idea is common in the intertestamental literature (e.g., Jub. 14:16; 1 En. 50:2; 2 Esd 4:36–37; 4Q185 2:9–10), but never before was the concept applied to Israel.

33“You snakes! You brood of vipers! How will you escape being condemned to hell? 34Therefore I am sending you prophets and wise men and teachers. Some of them you will kill and crucify; others you will flog in your synagogues and pursue from town to town. 35And so upon you will come all the righteous blood that has been shed on earth, from the blood of righteous Abel to the blood of Zechariah son of Berekiah, whom you murdered between the temple and the altar. 36I tell you the truth, all this will come upon this generation.”

COMMENTARY

33 See

and

for the epithets. The transition from the preceding verse is clear: If the teachers of the law and Pharisees are filling up the measure of the sin of their forefathers, how can they possibly escape the condemnation of hell (see

;

34 If this verse shares a common source (Q?) with Luke 11:49 (see

), the differences between Matthew and Luke are noteworthy, though perhaps not quite so problematic as many think. The most noteworthy feature is the change from “the wisdom of God” (NIV, “God in his wisdom”) as the sender of the emissaries to an emphatic “I.” Not only is there little doubt that Christians identified Jesus with God’s wisdom, but he who assigned to himself messianic titles and even OT texts referring exclusively to Yahweh would not have hesitated to make the same identification. Matthew’s interpretation is, therefore, not necessarily wrong, even if a single saying stands behind both Luke and Matthew; it certainly has the result of emphasizing Jesus’ authority (cf. Orton, Understanding Scribe, 154–55).

Hare (Theme of Jewish Persecution, 87–88) thinks the introductory dia touto (“Because of this,” Lk 11:49; “Therefore,” v.34) is drastically altered. In Luke, it refers to Luke 11:47–48—a tacit admission of blood-guiltiness for the prophets’ death and for which reason “the wisdom of God” sends more prophets so that “this generation” (Lk 11:50) will be accountable. In Matthew, however, vv.32–33 separate the tacit admission from dia touto (“Therefore,” v.34) so that the connective no longer explains God’s wisdom in the past but an act Jesus performed in the present. But Hare’s contrast is exaggerated. It is formally correct that dia touto in Luke 11:49 explains a statement made in the past by the wisdom of God. But this explains only that a statement was made, not the statement’s content—which refers to an act done in the present, namely, Jesus’ sending emissaries. Thus the two renderings of dia touto are very close and share the same function: they point out that because of the Jewish leaders’ wicked reception of God’s messengers, more messengers will “therefore” be sent; and they will be treated the same way. This will fill up the full measure of iniquity, and judgment will fall.

Luke (11:49) has “prophets and apostles,” Matthew “prophets and wise men and teachers.” The “wise man” and the “teacher” were “materially identical” (Garland, Intention of Matthew 23, 175; cf. TDNT, 8:505–7) at this time. Both Matthew and Luke here look forward to the sending out of Christian missionaries—disciples of Jesus (cf. 5:10–12; 9:37–38; 28:18–20). The terms used do not reflect post–AD 70 terminology (cf. van Tilborg, Jewish Leaders, 140–41).

Matthew adds “crucify.” There is no evidence Jews used crucifixion as a mode of capital punishment after 63 BC. “Crucify” may mean “cause to be crucified” (as in Ac 2:36; 4:10), surely a better possibility than Hare’s suggestion (Theme of Jewish Persecution, 89–92) that the words “and crucify” are a gloss on what Matthew wrote. Garland (Intention of Matthew 23, 177) holds that “and crucify” refers to Jesus’ death. But this, too, requires a causative sense and seems strange when it is Jesus who is sending the emissaries to their deaths and Jesus who is (in this view) among those sent and killed. Perhaps v.34 echoes 10:24–25: the servant is not above his master. If Jesus is to be crucified, his servants may expect the same.

35 The very messengers who were beaten and killed for calling the people to repentance in the mystery of providence fill up the measure of the people’s sin (v.32)—namely, shedding righteous blood of God’s emissaries from Abel to Zechariah (see Notes). Verse 35 anticipates 27:24–25: Pilate tries to evade responsibility for crucifying Jesus, and the Jews clamor for that same dreadful responsibility because of their skepticism about who Jesus is. On the question of alleged anti-Semitism, see .

36 All along in this chapter, the teachers of the law and the Pharisees have been Jesus’ primary target. Now the reference is to “this generation,” because the leaders represent the people (see

); and the people, despite Jesus’ warnings, do not abandon their leaders for Jesus Messiah. This sets the stage for the concluding lament over Jerusalem (vv.37–39).

NOTES

34 On flogging, see

; on persecution from city to city, see 10:23; Acts 9:2; 13:50–51; 14:4–7; 17:10–15. On indifference toward and harsh treatment of OT prophets, see 1 Kings 18:4, 13; 19:10, 14; 2 Kings 17:13–17; 1 Chronicles 16:22; 2 Chronicles 24:19; 36:14–16; Psalm 105:15; Jeremiah 7:25–26; 25:4; 26:5, 20–23; 29:19; 35:15; 44:4; Lamentations 2:20; 4:16.

35 Abel is the first victim of murder in the Scriptures (Ge 4:8). The identity of this “Zechariah son of Berekiah” is problematic. Principal possibilities include:

1. It could refer to Zechariah the father of John the Baptist, but there is no evidence he was martyred.

2. It could be Zechariah son of Baris or Baruch or Bariscaeus (MSS vary), who was murdered by two Zealots in the temple (Josephus, J.W. 4.334–44 [5.4]). But there is no evidence he was a prophet or a martyr, and though he was killed ἐν μέσῳ (en mesō, “in the midst”) of the temple precincts, it is unlikely he was killed between the actual sanctuary and the altar unless he was a priest, and there is no evidence for this.

3. It could be a reference to the OT prophet Zechariah son of Berekiah (Zec 1:1). But there is no account of his being killed.

4. It may be a Zechariah of whom we have no knowledge (Albright and Mann). This is possible but without proof.

5. Another possibility is Zechariah the son of Jehoiada (2Ch 24:20–22). His murder took place in the courtyard of the temple and is related toward the end of what was probably the last book in the Hebrew canon. The sweep runs (to use Christian terms) “from Genesis to Revelation.” The problem is the patronymic. There is a possible solution. Just as Zechariah the prophet is alternately given his father’s patronymic (Zec 1:1) or his grandfather’s (Ezr 6:14), so it is possible Jehoiada was the grandfather (not father) of the Zechariah of 2 Chronicles 24—a suggestion that Jehoiada’s living to be 130 years old (2Ch 24:15) makes more plausible, since Zechariah’s ministry immediately followed Jehoiada’s death. An otherwise unknown Berekiah would, therefore, have had time to sire Zechariah, live to a good age, and die before the death of his own father gave him opportunity to serve as chief priest. That would allow time for a father named Berekiah. But we do not know. Substantive text-critical uncertainties in the relevant traditions (esp. LXX) complicate the problem. For literature and discussion, see Gundry, Use of the Old Testament, 86–88; Garland, Intention of Matthew 23, 182–83.

OVERVIEW

Almost exact verbal equivalence between these verses and Luke 13:34–35 makes it nearly certain that both Matthew and Luke are following the same written source (Q?) and, therefore, that at least one of the two evangelists displaced this prayer from its setting in the life of Jesus. Certainly the lament is more integral to the setting in Matthew than in Luke (cf. Suggs, Wisdom, Christology, and Law, 64–66; Garland, Intention of Matthew 23, 187–97). Jesus undoubtedly lamented over the city on other occasions (Lk 19:41–44), and the broad compassion of his words is characteristic (Mt 9:35–38).

The effect of the lament is twofold. First, it tinges all the preceding woes with compassion (note the doubling of “Jerusalem” [cf. 2Sa 18:33; 1Ki 13:2; Jer 22:29; Lk 10:41; 22:31]). There is also a change of number from Jerusalem to people of Jerusalem: literally, “the (one) [singular] killing the prophets and stoning the (ones) sent to her [singular; NIV, ‘you who kill the prophets and stone those sent to you’] ... your [singular] children ... your [plural] house ... you [plural] will not see.” The effect is to move from the abstraction of the city to the concrete reality of people. Jesus’ woes in Matthew 23, therefore, go far beyond personal frustrations; they are divine judgments that, though wrathful, never call in question the reality of divine love (see

Second, the christological implications are unavoidable, for Jesus, whether identifying himself with God or with wisdom, claims to be the one who has longed to gather and protect this rebellious nation. Phrased in such terms, Jesus’ longing can belong only to Israel’s Savior, not to one of her prophets. The authenticity of the lament is frequently denied on the ground that the historical Jesus could not possibly have said it (e.g., Suggs, Wisdom, Christology, and Law, 66). But it is a strange criticism that a priori obliterates any possibility of listening to the text in such a way as to hear a historical Jesus who was not only conscious of his transcendent origins but who in many ways laid claims to his origins as part of his compassionate and redemptive self-disclosure.

37“O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, you who kill the prophets and stone those sent to you, how often I have longed to gather your children together, as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, but you were not willing. 38Look, your house is left to you desolate. 39For I tell you, you will not see me again until you say, ‘Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord.’”

COMMENTARY

37 Verses 37–39 preserve Jesus’ last recorded public words to Israel. Jerusalem, the city of David, the city where God revealed himself in his temple, had become known as the city that killed the prophets and stoned those sent to her. Stoning to death, prescribed in the law of Moses for idolatry (Dt 17:5, 7), sorcery (Lev 20:27), and several other crimes, is also laid down in the Mishnah (m. Sanh. 7:4) for false prophets. It could also be the outcome of mob violence (21:35; Ac 7:57–58) or conspiracy, which apparently is how Zechariah died (2Ch 24:21). “How often” may look back over Israel’s history—namely, Jesus’ identifying himself with God’s transcendent, historical perspective (Jn 8:58); more probably, “how often” refers to the duration of Jesus’ ministry. During it, he “often” longed to gather and shelter Jerusalem (by metonymy including all Jews) as a hen her chicks (cf. Dt 32:11; Pss 17:8; 36:7; 91:4), for despite the woes, Jesus, like the “Sovereign LORD” in Ezekiel 18:32, took “no pleasure in the death of anyone.”

38 This verse may allude to both Jeremiah 12:7 and 22:5 (see Notes). “Your house” in this context could refer to Jerusalem, since the lament is first addressed to her (Klostermann, McNeile), to Israel (Schniewind, Green; cf. Gal 4:25–26 for a similar use of “Jerusalem”), or to the temple in whose precincts Jesus was preaching (21:23; 24:1) and whose destruction was about to be predicted (24:2; cf. Manson [Sayings of Jesus, 127]; Davies [Setting, 298]). There seems to be no need to choose only one of these options; all three are closely allied and rise and fall together. If “desolate” (erēmos, GK 2245) is not part of the text (see Notes), the verse means “your house is abandoned to the consequences of your misdeeds” (Plummer). More probably, erēmos is original and makes the implied destruction explicit. Your “house” is left to you (i.e., abandoned), whether by God (as in Jer 12:7) or Jesus (cf. 24:1), who is “Immanuel,” “God with us” (1:23; cf. Garland, Intention of Matthew 23, 202–3, who traces God’s abandonment of the temple, not least in Eze 8–11). The verb “left” (aphietai, GK 918) can mean “abandoned to enemies,” not just “abandoned.” But since the ideas are related, a choice is unnecessary.

39 E. Haenchen (“Matthäus 23,” ZTK 48 [1951]: 56) holds that in vv.33–36, “Wisdom” (cf. Lk 11:49) looks forward prophetically to sending the prophets, but in vv.37–39, it looks back on the sending of prophets. The latter passage must, therefore, be anachronistic. But the temporal relation between the two passages is not so sharp. If vv.33–36 look forward to the sending of the prophets, they also speak of judgment on “this generation.” If vv.37–39 look backward on prophets already killed, the reference is to the way Jerusalem has acted in the past (v.37), a past that is even now bringing judgment (v.38), and that looks forward to future consummation (v.39).

The quotation is from Psalm 118:26 (also in 21:9; see 21:42 for another quotation from this psalm). The words may have been used by the priests in greeting the worshipers at the temple. Jesus, too, the true locus of Israel, must come, victorious and exalted, and receive greetings and homage from the religious authorities (cf. France, Jesus and the Old Testament, 58–59). Because of its location in Luke, “until” could refer to Palm Sunday, when people cried such words (Lk 19:38; cf. Mt 21:9); but as Marshall (Gospel of Luke, 576–77) points out, if Palm Sunday is in view in Luke, the cries of the people are but an ironic fulfillment that still looks forward to the consummation.

What Matthew refers to is perfectly clear. The Greek literally translated reads, “You will not see me from now [ap’ arti] until you say”; and ap’ arti is tied to the consummation (cf. 26:29, 64). Thus v.39 looks, not to Jesus’ resurrection appearances, but to his second coming. When he returns, all will acknowledge him. The context strongly implies that the Parousia spells judgment (cf. 24:30–31; Php 2:9–11; Rev 1:7), but the quotation of Psalm 118 keeps open the way Jesus will be received as consuming Judge or welcomed King (cf. Benoit; Goulder, Midrash and Lection, 429–30; contra Garland, Intention of Matthew 23, 207–9 and the literature there cited). But whatever the outcome, the immediate prospect is disaster: “for I tell you, you will not see me, etc.”; i.e., the proof that judgment is imminent is that Jesus turns away and will not be seen again until the End.

So Jesus leaves the temple and goes away (24:1); and his words, which have dealt with judgment on Israel and with the consummation, evoke his disciples’ two-pronged question (24:3) and lead to the Olivet Discourse (chs. 24–25).

NOTES

38 If ἔρημος (erēmos, “desolate,” GK 2245) is omitted, as in B L^{1 184} it^ff2 et al., the allusion is to Jeremiah 12:7 alone; if included, there may also be an allusion to Jeremiah 22:5 (cf. Gundry, Use of the Old Testament, 88). Westcott and Hort, relying too heavily on B, omit it, but the external evidence is strong for inclusion in Matthew, even if omission in Luke—where the evidence is much weaker and principally Western—is more likely (cf. Garland, Intention of Matthew 23, 200–201 n. 120). The presence of the word makes the judgment theme slightly more emphatic.

OVERVIEW

Few chapters of the Bible have elicited more disagreement among interpreters than Matthew 24 and its parallels in Mark 13 and Luke 21. The history of the interpretation of this chapter is immensely complex. G. R. Beasley-Murray’s Jesus and the Future (London: Macmillan, 1954) is an admirable guide for works up to 1954; David Wenham’s “Recent Study of Mark 13” (TSF Bulletin 71 [Spring, 1975]: 615; 72 [Summer 1975]: 19) succinctly summarizes and critiques several works up to 1975, including A. L. Moore, The Parousia in the New Testament (Leiden: Brill, 1966); Lars Hartman, Prophecy Interpreted: The Function of Some Jewish Apocalyptic Texts and of the Eschatological Discourse, Mark 13 Par. (Lund: Gleerup, 1966); R. Pesch, Naherwartungen: Tradition und Redaktion in Markus 13 (Düsseldorf: Patmos, 1968); Gaston, No Stone; and France (Jesus and the Old Testament); G. R. Beasley-Murray (Jesus and the Last Days [Peabody, Mass.: Hendrickson, 1993]). In addition, there are now major commentaries on each of the Synoptic Gospels, not least Matthew (see Davies and Allison, Nolland, France [NICNT], Keener, and esp. Luz, whose survey of the history of interpretation is most helpful), not to mention a plethora of articles and essays. Some of the difficulties and exegetical turning points, and a little of the literature, must be cursorily introduced:

1. The literary nature of chs. 24–25 and of the parallels in Mark and Luke has occupied much scholarly attention. For a century or two before and after Jesus, writings now described as “apocalyptic literature” flourished in Jewish and Christian circles. At best, the label is not precise, and the genre’s various forms tend to fray around the edges. G. E. Ladd (“Why Not Prophetic-Apocalyptic?” JBL 76 [1957]: 192–200) has wisely suggested that the NT apocalypses, especially this chapter and most of Revelation, read like a merging of apocalyptic and prophetic literature. The symbolism is not as sharp as in works indisputably apocalyptic, and the “above-below” dualism typical of apocalyptic is here rather muted. Other features of this discourse are often noted, especially the frequent imperatives, whether in the second person (“Watch out that no one deceives you,” v.4; “See to it that you are not alarmed,” v.6) or the third person (“Let no one in the field go back,” v.18).

2. As for the sources, first there is the question of whether the synoptists have simply put together a pastiche of Jesus’ sayings (some of which may represent an “Olivet Discourse”), mingled with other traditions, or have selected and shaped material deriving from a single historical utterance. They undoubtedly give the latter impression. Matthew, with his framing formulas (see

;

), is especially clear about this. Though this view is a minority one, nevertheless it can be strenuously argued that each evangelist felt his report of the discourse to be coherent. And if this is so, it seems too much to postulate, on the basis of disputable conceptual and grammatical discrepancies, unambiguous sources stemming from various traditions.

Second, the relation among the three synoptic accounts is still disputed. Some have argued that Luke 21 is sufficiently distinctive to spring from a separate tradition. Touching on both of these questions, David Wenham argues for a source-critical solution, not only tying together all the Synoptic Gospel records of this discourse, but also uniting them into a single comprehensive record. While Wenham’s reconstruction is far from certain, the fact that he is able to develop his view so rigorously shows the dangers of the facile historical and literary disjunctions of which many critics are so fond.

Third, the Olivet Discourse is studded with OT quotations and allusions that add to the complexity.

Fourth, the discourse itself is undoubtedly a source for the Thessalonian epistles (cf. G. Henry Waterman, “The Sources of Paul’s Teaching on the 2nd Coming of Christ in 1 and 2 Thessalonians,” JETS 18 [1975]: 105–13; David Wenham, “Paul and the Synoptic Apocalypse,” in Gospel Perspectives [ed. France and Wenham], 2:345–75) and Revelation (cf. G. K. Beale, “The Use of Daniel in Jewish Apocalyptic Literature and in the Revelation of St. John” [PhD diss., Cambridge University, 1980], 260–64; more recently, idem, The Book of Revelation [NIGTC; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1999]; idem, 1–2 Thessalonians [IVPNTC; Downers Grove, Ill.: InterVarsity, 2003]). If so, then we may say that Jesus himself sets the pattern for the church’s eschatology.

3. This last statement presupposes the authenticity of the discourse material in the Gospels. This is frequently denied, however, on the ground that the “prophecy” of the fall of Jerusalem must in reality be ex eventu, based on the event itself. This will not do because, apart from antisupernatural presuppositions, Reicke (“Synoptic Prophecies”) has shown the language in the Olivet Discourse prophesying the fall of Jerusalem to be largely in OT categories. Not only is it general; it does not describe any detail peculiar to the known history of the Jewish War (AD 66–73). Reicke goes so far as to conclude that the Olivet Discourse as found in any of the Synoptics could not have been composed after AD 70, and therefore the Synoptics themselves have earlier dates (see Introduction, ).

4. Numerous details in the text are much disputed and hard to understand: the meaning of “the abomination that causes desolation” (24:15), the significance of “let the reader understand” (v.15), whether the “coming of the Son of Man” (vv.27, 30) refers to his return at the consummation or to something else (the resurrection, Pentecost, the fall of Jerusalem, and the growth of the church have all been suggested), the extent of “this generation” (v.34). The ideal solution is the one that treats all of these in the most natural way possible.

5. A disputed term, not in the text but in the forefront of interpretive theory, is “imminent,” which has two related but distinct problems. One concerns the expectations of the historical Jesus and is linked to the way the various parts of the discourse relate to one another and to v.34: “I tell you the truth, this generation will certainly not pass away until all these things have happened.” How “imminent” did Jesus think the coming of the Son of Man was (see below, under point 6)?

The other problem concerns the meaning of the word “imminent” as used in theological—especially evangelical—discussion. A dictionary defines it as “impending”; as applied to Christ’s return, an “imminent return of Christ” would then mean Christ’s return was near, impending. Hardly anyone uses “imminent” that way but understands it in a specialized, theological sense to mean “at any time”: “the imminent return of Christ” then means Christ may return at any time. But the evangelical writers who use the word divide on whether “imminent” in the sense of “at any time” should be pressed to mean “at any second” or something looser, such as “at any period” or “in any generation.”

Resolution turns on two issues. First, how are the various “signs” presaging Christ’s return to be related to an “imminent” return? The dispensational response is to postulate two returns (or, as they hold, one return in two stages): one before any of the “signs” appear, a “rapture” that removes the church alone and that could take place at any second; the other after the signs appear, a return that consummates history as we know it. Most will agree that no passage in the Bible unambiguously teaches a two-stage return. The theory is in the best sense a theological harmonization—certainly not a wrong approach in itself—of disparate texts.

Other theories clamor for attention, including that of J. Barton Payne (The Imminent Appearing of Christ [Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1962]), who proposes that with the events of AD 70 now behind us, all the remaining “signs” are so general that they may be “fulfilled” in any generation. Distinctions regarding “imminency” therefore become moot. Other theories are not lacking. Unfortunately, the meaning of “imminent” is so comprehensive a question that each theory is in fact an entire eschatological scheme, complete with detailed exegesis and sweeping synthesis. While the approach of this commentary is inductive and limited primarily to the text of Matthew, some implications for the debate will be spelled out in due course.

Second, on what is the “any second” view of imminency based and how well does it withstand close scrutiny? The truth is that the biblical evidence nowhere unambiguously endorses the “any second” view and frequently militates against it (as has often been demonstrated; cf. R. H. Gundry, The Church and the Tribulation [Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1973], esp. 29ff.; Craig Blomberg and Sung Wook Chung, eds., A Case for Historic Premillennialism: An Alternative to “Left Behind” Eschatology [Grand Rapids: Baker, 2009]; Benjamin L. Merkle, “Could Jesus Return at Any Moment? Rethinking the Imminence of the Second Coming,” TJ 26 [2005]: 279–92). Not only do all the relevant NT verbs for “looking forward to” or “expecting” or “waiting for” have a semantic range including necessary delay, but many NT passages also implicitly rule out an “any second” imminency (24:45–51 [see

]; 25:5, 19; Lk 19:11–27: Jn 21:18–19 [cf. 2Pe 1:14]; Ac 9:15; 22:21; 23:11; 27:24). Yet the terms “imminent” and “imminency” retain theological usefulness if they focus attention on the eager expectancy of the Lord’s return characteristic of many NT passages, a return that could take place soon, i.e., within a fairly brief period of time, without specifying that the period must be one second or less! This is not as rigid as the “any second” view, and it more fairly represents the exegetical evidence.

6. But the most difficult interpretive questions concern the structure of the discourse—how the parts relate to each other, to the initial questions of the disciples, and to the whole. On the face of it, the disciples’ questions and the tenor of the discourse argue that Jesus is dealing with at least two issues—the fall of Jerusalem and the return of the Son of Man. But these two issues appear to be so tightly intertwined that it is impossible to separate them, and therefore Jesus or Matthew wrongly (as it turned out) tied them together.

Many modern scholars adopt this view. It is given a new twist by Desmond Ford (The Abomination of Desolation in Biblical Eschatology [Washington, D.C.: University Press of America, 1979], 76). He argues that Jesus meant to say that the Parousia would immediately succeed the fall of Jerusalem, all within the generation of his hearers, but that this was in reality a contingent promise, like Jonah’s “Forty more days and Nineveh will be overturned” (Jnh 3:4). Hence “it is possible that he [Jesus] believed that if the early church proved faithful to its missionary commission, and if the chastened Jewish nation repented, the end would transpire in the same Age.”

But the parallel with Jonah is not very close, if only because the Parousia is invariably treated in the NT as qualitatively unlike all other divine visitations. It alone marks the end of history, the final outpouring of judgment and blessing, and thus is not an event that can be postponed. More important, v.22 seems to say that God will hasten the consummation, not postpone it, for the days of tribulation are shortened. And nowhere in the NT is there any clear suggestion that the delay of the Parousia was the result of the church’s sin (2Pe 3:12 is not a genuine exception). Yet Ford’s view highlights the problem of the relation between the fall of Jerusalem and the Parousia.

At the risk of oversimplification, we may lump together some other major interpretations of the Olivet Discourse according to their treatment of this problem.

a. In 1864, T. Colani published his “little apocalypse” theory, postulating that the historical Jesus exhibited no interest in any future kingdom. As far as Jesus was concerned, the kingdom was exclusively present. The genesis of Mark 13 and parallels, therefore, must be accounted for as a tract by first-century Jewish Christians facing persecution just before AD 70. The answer of the historical Jesus to the disciples’ questions was simply Mark 13:32 (Mt 24:36). Few follow Colani now, though some have tried to find in the Olivet Discourse not one “little apocalypse” but a number of different sources. Taken together, such theories follow a unifying method: the material in the discourse is assumed to be so disparate that it can be accounted for only by appealing to distinct sources not very well integrated by the evangelist-redactor. But too many details in the various theories seem unconvincing and fail to deal adequately with how each synoptist thought of the material he was editing. If he detected some unity, it must be found; and if found, then what methodological principle distinguishes between the unity imposed by a synoptist-redactor and a unity latent in a discourse delivered by Jesus? Indeed, one could make an a priori case for the apparent textual discrepancies based, not on the synoptist’s failure to integrate separate sources, but on its condensed and selective reporting of much longer unified material in terms understandable to the first readers but more susceptible to misunderstanding today.

b. Perhaps the most common approach to the interpretation of the Olivet Discourse today is that which holds that Jesus responds both to the question regarding the destruction of Jerusalem and to the expectation of the parousia of the Son of Man, but that these two themes are so intertwined it is almost impossible to untangle them—or, alternatively, if a commentator thinks they can be untangled from verse to verse, there is little convincing rationale for the tangled skein. This mixed reading, combining interest in both the fall of Jerusalem and Jesus’ second coming, goes back at least as far as Augustine. Those of evangelical heritage—exemplified, for instance, by Broadus and Lane (Mark)—want to hold the pieces together somehow but frankly acknowledge the difficulty. Broadus holds that vv.15–21, 34 foretell the destruction of Jerusalem, and at least vv.29–31 foretell the Lord’s return; but “every attempt to assign a definite point of division between the two topics has proved a failure.” If Christ’s return is placed between v.28 and v.29, then v.34 is difficult; if after v.34, v.36, or v.42, how are we to interpret vv.30–31, 36? The solution is that the two are purposely intertwined, perhaps under some kind of “prophetic foreshortening.” The near event, the destruction of Jerusalem, serves as a symbol for the far event. (In addition to the commentaries, see Hoekema, Bible and the Future; Ridderbos, Coming of the Kingdom, 477–510.) This approach is possible but has two weaknesses. It has to skate gingerly around the time references in the discourse (e.g., “immediately after the distress of those days,” v.29; “this generation,” v.34), and it leads some of its adherents to the view that on the timing of the Parousia Jesus was in error (e.g., Beasley-Murray, Baptism). Verse 36 is scarcely sufficient to support all this, since it is one thing to admit ignorance and another to be quite mistaken. Those who simply find the text so alien to the worldviews of their own time wrestle valiantly with the history of interpretation, the nature of apocalyptic metaphor, the structure of the passage, and the like but are inclined to conclude, “In part the text’s language and images cannot be understood, and they appear to be fantasy. History and ‘trans-history,’ reality and images, human behavior and events from the beyond, world and God appear to be interrelated in a way that defies efforts to unravel them” (Luz, 183).

c. A number of scholars have denied that any part of the Olivet Discourse deals with the fall of Jerusalem; all of it concerns the Parousia. One form or another of this theory is held by Lagrange, Schlatter, Schniewind, and Zahn. Lagrange thinks the “abomination of desolation” deals with Jerusalem but not the “great distress” (v.21). In large measure, this approach is a resuscitation of the dominant approach in the patristic period before Augustine. Almost all who hold this view today are forced to say that Luke 21:20–24, which is unavoidably historical, stems from another discourse or has been consciously modified by Luke. The latter suggestion seems a desperate expedient in support of a weak theory. It is very difficult to imagine that a Christian reader of any of the Synoptics at any period during the first one hundred years of the existence of these documents would fail to see a reference to the destruction of Jerusalem. Methodologically, this approach belongs with those who flatten the discourse in other ways—e.g., by claiming that it represents a continuous account of Christian history.

d. An older view (e.g., Alexander), now again popular (Tasker; J. M. Kik, Matthew Twenty-Four [Swengel: Bible Truth Depot, 1948]), resuscitating the work of the Antiochene John Chrysostom, given fresh exegetical support thirty-five years ago by France (Jesus and the Old Testament, 231–39) and newly made popular by a number of scholars, e.g., Wright (Jesus and the Victory of God); Wilson (When Will These Things Happen?); Garland (Reading Matthew); Jeffrey A. Gibbs (Jerusalem and Parousia: Jesus’ Eschatological Discourse in Matthew’s Gospel [St. Louis, Mo.: Concordia, 2000]), and Bolt (Cross from a Distance, ch. 3), holds that the fall of Jerusalem is in view in the discourse until the end of v.35. Only with the opening of v.36 does the second advent come into view. This interpretation, often called the preterist view, has the advantage of being neat. There is a clear division between the two parts of the discourse, and it eliminates flipping back and forth or appealing to “prophetic foreshortening” or the like. Its proponents point out that this interpretation answers both questions posed by the disciples. The first, concerning the destruction of Jerusalem and its temple, elicits the anticipation of an answer in v.15 (“When you see ...”) but finds an explicit answer only in vv.29–31. The verses before v.29 tell of great anguish preceding the events of AD 70. But unless vv.29–35 deal with the fall of Jerusalem itself, it is held, the disciples’ first question is never satisfactorily answered.

If someone objects that vv.29–35 more naturally read as a prophecy foretelling the second advent than the destruction of Jerusalem, this, we are told, would not be so obvious to the first readers. The celestial disturbances (v.29) are figurative, symbolic of political and national disasters (as in Isa 13:10; 34:4). The coming of the Son of Man in glory and power (v.30) is not Jesus’ return to earth but, as in Daniel 7, a heavenly coming for vindication, a reference either to Jesus’ vindication after the resurrection or to the fall of Jerusalem itself (26:64 is then commonly interpreted the same way). The sending of the “angels” is the commissioning of “messengers” or “missionaries” to gather the elect in the church (v.31), for despite the Lord’s judgment on the Jews, the gathering in of the elect continues through the preaching of the gospel. (For the sake of completeness, it should perhaps be added that this is an array of “mixed” views that usually add little in terms of believability. For instance, Davies and Allison, like those listed under this heading, see a major structural break after 24:35 but in general are closer to point b above than to point d. Brant Pitre [Jesus, the Tribulation and the End of the Exile (WUNT 203; Tübingen: Mohr, 2005)]) largely follows N. T. Wright, not only in Wright’s understanding of this Olivet Discourse but also in Wright’s overemphasis on the “end of the exile” theme, but argues that the exile in question does not begin with the Babylonian captivity but with the Assyrian captivity of the northern kingdom.)

Casey (Son of Man, 172ff.) has raised some criticisms, a few of them cogent, as has Edward Adams (referenced below). Detailed rebuttal is impossible, but the following difficulties in this interpretation must be faced.

(1) Even if v.15 speaks only of the beginning of the Jerusalem distress (and this is debated), if France’s view is right, it is hard to explain how vv.21–22 could describe the mere preliminaries to Jerusalem’s fall. Verse 22 speaks of those days being cut short. Surely this does not mean the preliminaries to the fall of Jerusalem were cut short for the elect’s sake, for that would entail the conclusion that the fall itself was a display of mercy on the elect.

(2) Although vv.14–22 do not explicitly mention the fall of Jerusalem, the same can be said with even greater vigor of vv.29–35. Similarly, if vv.29–35 do not mention the coming of the Son of Man to the earth, the same can be said of 1 Thessalonians 4:16, where in my opinion that is implied. In any case, there may be other reasons for Jesus not mentioning the fall of Jerusalem explicitly in vv.15–22. The cryptic “let the reader understand” (v.15) may be thought hint enough of the true import of Jesus’ reference to Daniel’s “abomination that causes desolation”; it may even be that the synoptists thought the Jerusalem reference obvious. Apparently Luke thought so (cf. Lk 21:20–24; see

below).

(3) France, Wright, and others argue that since Daniel 7:27 interprets Daniel 7:13 as referring to “the saints, the people of the Most High,” the reference to the coming of the Son of Man in Mark 13:26 (Mt 24:30) must have a corporate dimension. The coming of the Son of Man in these passages must refer to Jesus and his people as the replacement of Jews in the light of the destruction of the temple in AD 70. It follows that the sending out of the “angels” in the next verse (Mk 13:27; Mt 24:31) refers to the sending of missionaries to gather in the multinational, multiethnic people of God. But the “coming” (parousia) of Christ or of the Son of Man, along with related expressions, is so regularly associated with the coming of Jesus at the end of the age in connection with the resurrection from the dead (e.g., compare closely Mt 13:40–41; 16:27; 25:31; 1Co 11:26; 15:23, 52; 16:22; cf. 1Th 2:19; 3:13; 4:14–17; 5:23; 2Th 1:7; 2:1, 8; Jas 5:7–8; 2Pe 1:16; 3:4, 10–12; 1Jn 2:28; Rev 1:7) that it would take overwhelmingly convincing reasons to overturn this set of associations. Here are references to the Son of Man’s coming, angels gathering the elect, trumpet call, clouds, glory, tribes of the earth mourning, celestial disturbances—all unambiguously related to the second advent. See also Frank Thielman, Theology of the New Testament (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2005), 719. Of course, there can be no objection to coming-of-the-Son-of-Man language occasionally referring to something other than the Parousia (see

;

), yet when these occur, the interpretive problems are invariably notoriously complex. See comments at these last-referenced texts below.

(4) This approach to vv.29–35 is psychologically unconvincing for two reasons. First, it demands a close connection between the fall of Jerusalem and the Gentile mission (v.31), when in fact the Gentile mission had been prospering, first informally and then formally, for several decades. The fall of the temple doubtless helped support Christian theology about Jesus as the true sacrifice, priest, and temple, but it did not clearly motivate Gentile mission per se. Why, then, should the link be tendered here, almost as the climax of the pericope? Second, even on the basis of the interpretation under review, Christians saw the destruction of Jerusalem as a terrible thing and the onslaught by the pagan Romans as an abomination. If they also saw it as Jesus’ vindication and as judgment on the Jewish nation, that is comprehensible enough; but could they see it as fulfillment of Daniel 7? Daniel 7 portrays something glorious and wonderful, the end of the pagan emperor’s reign, yet AD 70 marks success by the pagan emperor. Even if one supposes that the Synoptics are operating under a reverse typology—the OT pagans being now equated with the Jews—is it psychologically convincing to hold that antipathy between Jews and Christians was running so high that the latter could be told the sack of Jerusalem was their “redemption” (Lk 21:28)?

(5) In both an essay and a book, Edward Adams (“The Coming of the Son of Man in Mark’s Gospel,” TynBul 56 [2005]: 39–61; The Stars Will Fall from Heaven: Cosmic Catastrophe in the New Testament and Its World [LNTS 347; London: T&T Clark, 2007]) has taken on this view directly, especially with respect to its treatment of the parallel passage in Mark 13 (he says much less regarding Mt 24). The nub of Adams’s argument (in “Coming”) is that Mark’s use of Daniel 7:9–14 is not about enthronement/vindication only. Mark links Daniel 7:13 with other OT texts (not least Zec 14:3) and other images that anticipate God’s coming to the earth. These links establish that what Jesus (in Mark) has in mind is his coming as exalted Lord from heaven to earth at the end of history. In other words, although images of trumpets and signs in the sky can be used for something other than the end, in many OT texts an array of such images are conjoined to signal cosmic catastrophe and the onset of the end with the final visitation of God in consummating judgment and blessing. These images are similarly conjoined in Mark and Matthew. The preterist view is salvageable only by taking the images one by one and showing that each one can be used of something other than such a cosmic catastrophe. Putting them together is what the OT texts repeatedly do, in contexts of cosmic catastrophe, and observing that the Olivet Discourse forges similar links makes that preterist reading singularly unlikely, despite its recent rise in popularity. In his recent commentary (NICNT), France has responded to Adams’s essay, arguing that his own interpretation makes better sense of the coming-of-the-Son-of-Man language in Mark 8:38 (in the light of Mk 9:1; the corresponding passages in Matthew are 16:28; 17:1). But this assumes that the three crucial coming-of-the-Son-of-Man passages in Matthew (10:23; 16:28; 24:30) all refer to the same thing, and I have given extensive reasons in each passage to call that assumption into question (see

;

). Moreover, Matthew 24:30 itself contains an allusion to Zechariah 12:10–12, and other similar NT use of this passage, as Adams has pointed out, supports the view that the verse refers to the Parousia. (France did not have opportunity to respond to the much more detailed argument of Adams in the latter’s Stars Will Fall.) Turner rightly points out that the preterist interpretation of 24:31 is particularly strained. The trumpet sounds and the “angels” (missionaries?) gather the elect from the four winds; this does not sound like missionary activity, especially in the light of the apocalyptic threats of final judgments that prevail in all of the immediately ensuing parabolic material, which seems to be telling readers how to wait for the end (esp. 24:39, 44, 50–51; 25:13, 30, 46).

(6) There are already hints early in the discourse (esp. in Matthew) that the reader is to bear in mind that there are at least two topics under discussion, not one: the fall of Jerusalem and the second advent (cf. vv.3, 5, 14, 23–27). Thus, since the reader is already primed to expect mention of the second advent, it would be difficult for him to take vv.29–31 in any other way.

e. A strong minority of evangelicals adopts one form or another of the dispensationalist interpretation of the discourse (A. C. Gaebelein; Walvoord; cf. John F. Walvoord, “Christ’s Olivet Discourse on the End of the Age,” BS 128 [1971]: 109–16; BS 129 [1972]: 20–32, 99–105, 206–10, 307–15). Perhaps the most common view along these lines takes vv.36–40 to refer to a secret “rapture of the church,” which could take place at any second, and vv.4–28 (or vv.15–28) to refer to the great tribulation, lasting seven years and culminating in the second advent (vv.29–35). Walvoord adds refinements. He holds that v.2 refers to the destruction at AD 70. The disciples’ question of v.3 is in three parts, the first of which, dealing with the fall of Jerusalem, Jesus does not answer.

At this point, there is a curious intersection of views with writers like Hare (Theme of Jewish Persecution, 177–79), who argues that Matthew, writing after the events of AD 70, eliminates all reference to the destruction of Jerusalem and “eschatologizes” even vv.15–28 and so does not answer the disciples’ first question. Under Hare’s view of Matthew’s editorial activity, the strange thing is that Matthew retains that first question. The entire discourse, in Walvoord’s view, deals with the general characteristics of the age (vv.4–14), the great tribulation (vv.15–25), and the second advent (vv.26–31), because the “rapture” is not revealed until Paul. Thus “taken” in vv.40–41 means “taken in judgment.” “This generation” (v.34) Walvoord takes to mean either “this race” or something like “the generation that is alive when the great tribulation starts.”

This interpretation is difficult to discuss adequately without delving into dispensationalism, including its “parenthesis” view of the church, something beyond the range of this commentary. If dispensationalism were unambiguously defined elsewhere in Scripture, then the least to be said for its interpretation of Matthew 24 is that it is self-consistent and makes sense of the time indicators (e.g., “Immediately after the distress of those days,” v.29, etc.). Even then, however, this interpretation faces several difficulties, one or two of them well-nigh insuperable.

(1) It is forced to adopt a possible but extraordinarily unlikely meaning for “this generation” (v.34; see below).

(2) It rests heavily on Matthew’s report of the Olivet Discourse and makes less sense of the parallels in Mark and Luke. One of many examples of its problems is Matthew’s recording the disciples’ question differently from Mark and Luke; Walvoord’s interpretation of the discourse depends almost entirely on Matthew. Even if through harmonizing Walvoord can show that v.3 best preserves the tripartite nature of the disciples’ historical question, one must still ask why Mark and Luke have it as they do. If the discourse as they present it can be adequately explained only by reference to the disciples’ question as Matthew preserves it, then Mark and Luke cannot be intelligently read without referring to Matthew.

(3) Much dispensationalism, especially the older kind, holds that the “rapture” is not mentioned in this chapter and justifies this view on the ground that Jesus is not talking to the church but to Jews. Dispensationalists use this disjunction to justify a number of theological points, but they are insensitive to historical realities. Even after Pentecost the earliest church was entirely Jewish. Here, before the passion, Jesus is not addressing the church in its post-Pentecost sense; but he is addressing, not his Jewish opponents, but his Jewish disciples who will constitute the church. Rigid application of this doubtful disjunction between Jews and church likewise banishes the church from the Sermon on the Mount, but it fails to observe that 18:15–20, dealing with the church, is also addressed, before the passion, to Jewish disciples.

(4) Granted the dispensational interpretation, Jesus’ answer must have not only been opaque to his auditors but almost deceptive. Their first question concerns Jerusalem’s judgment. But since a substantial part of Jesus’ answer is couched in terms dealing with Jerusalem’s destruction, how could the disciples think Jesus was not answering their question but describing a second destruction of the city, unless Jesus explicitly disavowed their understanding? But he does nothing of the kind. So perhaps it is not surprising that the dispensational identification of vv.15–28 exclusively with the great tribulation after the rapture of the church, whether revealed or unrevealed, finds no exponent until the nineteenth century. The dispensational approach to the Olivet Discourse must be judged historically implausible in reference to both the history of Jesus and the history of interpretation.

f. The view of Matthew 24 this commentary advocates finds clear breaks in the Olivet Discourse, thus differing from the second option, but deals with the location and significance of these breaks in a slightly novel way. David Wenham and I, to our mutual surprise, came to independent but similar conclusions about the Olivet Discourse. Sustained discussion benefited us both and enabled both of us to develop the original ideas, with the result that I cannot say exactly what each of us contributed to the thinking of the other. The first edition of this commentary appeared before the publication of Wenham’s work; almost immediately afterward, his The Rediscovery of Jesus’ Eschatological Discourse appeared. It confirmed that in structure and flow of thought he and I are much on the same page, though his work is far more detailed than my own and far more confident about source alignments than I am able to be. But here I gratefully acknowledge indebtedness to him.

In my understanding of the Olivet Discourse, the disciples think of Jerusalem’s destruction and the eschatological end as a single complex web of events. This accounts for the form of their questions. Jesus warns that there will be delay before the End—a delay characterized by persecution and tribulation for his followers (vv.4–28), but with one particularly violent display of judgment in the fall of Jerusalem (vv.15–21; Mk 13:14–20; Lk 21:20–24). Immediately after the days of that sustained persecution characterizing the interadvent period comes the second advent (vv.29–31; cf. Guthrie, New Testament Theology, 795–96). The warning in vv.32–35 describes the whole tribulation period, from the ascension to the second advent. The tribulation period will certainly come, and the generation to which Jesus is speaking will experience all its features that point to the Lord’s return. But the exact time of that return no one but the Father knows (vv.36–44). This structure works out in all three Synoptics (though with significant differences in emphasis), and the main themes developed have important ties with other NT books. The disciples’ questions are answered, and the reader is exhorted to look forward to the Lord’s return and meanwhile to live responsibly, faithfully, compassionately, and courageously while the Master is away (24:45–25:46). Gundry objects to this analysis largely on the ground that the text seems to be flipping back and forth between the two events. But Gundry really does not interact with the textual evidence for such flips and the reasons advanced for them.

OVERVIEW

Unlike Mark (12:41–44) and Luke (21:1–4), Matthew omits the story of the widow’s offering, thus linking the Olivet Discourse more closely to the “woes” in Matthew 23. This does not mean that Matthew 24–25 continues a single discourse—the setting, audience, and principal themes all change. But Matthew does tie the prediction of desolation (23:37–39) to the destruction of the temple (24:2; for discussion, see Hummel, Auseinandersetzung, 85–86; J. Lambrecht, “The Parousia Discourse,” in L’Évangile selon Matthieu [ed. Didier], 314–18; France [NICNT], who ties 24:1–2 more tightly to ch. 23, and 24:3 to chs. 24–25).

1Jesus left the temple and was walking away when his disciples came up to him to call his attention to its buildings. 2“Do you see all these things?” he asked. “I tell you the truth, not one stone here will be left on another; every one will be thrown down.”

3As Jesus was sitting on the Mount of Olives, the disciples came to him privately. “Tell us,” they said, “when will this happen, and what will be the sign of your coming and of the end of the age?”

COMMENTARY

1 Jesus’ departure from the hieron (“temple complex,” GK 2639) may be symbolic (see

). It also gives the disciples a chance to call Jesus’ attention to its various structures. In Mark and Luke, the disciples call Jesus’ attention to the beauty of the temple buildings and the great stones on which it rests (cf. Josephus, Ant. 15.391–402 [11.3]; J.W. 5.184–226 [5.16]; Tacitus, Hist. 5.8.12). Whether or not the disciples thought they were speaking piously, they show they have underestimated or even misunderstood the force of Jesus’ denunciations in Matthew 23 and Luke 11. They still focus on the temple, on which Jesus has pronounced doom, since the true center of the relation between God and man has shifted to himself. In Matthew 23 Jesus has already insisted that what Israel does with him, not the temple, determines the fate of the temple and of Israel nationally.

2 Because tauta panta (“all these things”) is neuter and “buildings” (v.1) feminine, some have suggested that Jesus’ question refers, not to the buildings, but to the discourse in Matthew 23, especially v.36, and should be rendered “You do understand [metaphorically ‘see’] these things, don’t you?” the positive answer being suggested by the presence of the particle ou (“not,” untranslated in NIV). This may be oversubtle. The Greek demonstrative pronoun may have an irregular antecedent for various reasons (Grammar, 704). Moreover, the particle ou, anticipating a positive response, detracts from this novel interpretation, for if Jesus thinks his disciples have understood, why then does he go on immediately to answer their question unequivocally? But if the sentence is taken in the usual way (NIV), then the expectation of a positive response is most natural—of course the disciples see the buildings! (Moule is nevertheless right in saying that English idiom prefers an open question here; cf. Idiom Book, 159.)

Jesus’ forecast of the destruction of the temple complex is unambiguous, cast in OT language (cf. Jer 26:6, 18; Mic 3:12) and repeated variously elsewhere (23:38; 26:61; Lk 23:28–31).

3 The Mount of Olives (see

) is an appropriate site for a discourse dealing with the Parousia (cf. Zec 14:4). Mark specifies that Peter, James, John, and Andrew (the first four in Mt 10:2) asked the question privately. Whether this means that they were the only disciples present or that they were the ones who raised the question is uncertain, since “privately” in both Matthew and Mark sets the disciples apart from the crowds, not some disciples from others. The form of the question varies from gospel to gospel, with Matthew showing the greatest independence. Yet if we make the reasonable assumption that in the disciples’ minds their question as to the temple’s destruction and the signs that will presage it are linked to the end of the age and Jesus’ return (cf. 16:27–28; 23:39; Lk 19:11–27), there is little problem. Matthew makes explicit what was implicit and what Jesus recognized as implicit in their question.

“The end of the age” is used six times in the NT (13:39, 40, 49; 24:3; 28:20; Heb 9:26), five of which are in Matthew and look to final judgment and the consummation of all things. (Heb 9:26 sees the cross as introducing the coming age and thereby marking out “the end of the ages” [NIV].) Parousia (“coming,” GK 4242) is found twenty-four times in the NT, four of which are in Matthew 24 (vv.3, 27, 37, 39). The term can refer to “presence,” “arrival,” or “coming”—the first stage of “presence”—and need not have eschatological overtones (2Co 7:6; 10:10). Yet parousia is closely tied with Jesus’ glorious “appearing” or “coming” at the end of human history. (For views of its relation to NT eschatology, see Turner, Christian Words, 40–48; NIDNTT, 2:898–935.)

OVERVIEW

Alexander goes too far in saying that Jesus’ purpose in these verses “is not to tell what are but what are not the premonitions of the great catastrophe to which he refers.” Instead, all things (vv.5–7) are signs that Jesus is coming back, and they all will be manifest before the generation Jesus is addressing has died. But though these things show that the end is near, none of them stipulates how near, and the tenor of the warning is that the delay will be substantial and that during this period Jesus’ disciples must not be deceived by false messiahs.

4Jesus answered: “Watch out that no one deceives you. 5For many will come in my name, claiming, ‘I am the Christ,’ and will deceive many. 6You will hear of wars and rumors of wars, but see to it that you are not alarmed. Such things must happen, but the end is still to come. 7Nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom. There will be famines and earthquakes in various places. 8All these are the beginning of birth pains.

9“Then you will be handed over to be persecuted and put to death, and you will be hated by all nations because of me. 10At that time many will turn away from the faith and will betray and hate each other, 11and many false prophets will appear and deceive many people. 12Because of the increase of wickedness, the love of most will grow cold, 13but he who stands firm to the end will be saved. 14And this gospel of the kingdom will be preached in the whole world as a testimony to all nations, and then the end will come.”

COMMENTARY

4–5 One of the greatest temptations in times of difficulty is to follow blindly any self-proclaimed savior who promises help. It is the temptation to repose confidence (v.4) in false christs. Those who “come in my name” (v.5) may refer to those who come as Jesus’ representatives, but because of the words that follow, we must assume that their claim goes further. They claim to be Messiah, Christ himself. They come “in his name,” as if they were he. Would-be deliverers have appeared in every age, not least the first century (Ac 5:36; Josephus, Ant. 20.97–99 [5.1], 160–72 [8.56], 188 [8.10]; J.W. 2.259 [8.5], 433–56 [17.910]; 6.285–87 [5.2]). That this governs vv.4–28 is made clear by the second half of the literary inclusio (vv.26–28) that brackets the section. (On Mark’s parallel “I am he,” see Lane, Mark, 457 n. 43.)

6–8 “Birth pains” (v.8) in this context (elsewhere in the NT in Ac 2:24 [“agony”]; 1Th 5:3) stems from such OT passages as Isaiah 13:8; 26:17; Jeremiah 4:31; 6:24; Micah 4:9–10. By this time it was almost a special term for “the birth pangs of the Messiah,” the period of distress preceding the messianic age (see Str-B, 1:905; 4:977–78; TDNT, 9:667–74; cf. 2 Bar. 27:1–30:1; b. Šabb. 118a; b. Sanh. 98b). But the “wars and rumors of war, ... famines and earthquakes” (vv.6–7, of which there were not a few in the first century; cf. Alford, New Testament for English Readers, 1:163) do not so point to the end as to validate the false christs’ claims. Jesus’ followers are not to be alarmed by these events. “Such things must happen”; yet the end is still to come (v.6). These are only “the beginning of [the] birth pains” that stretch over the period between the advents. Why “must [they] happen”? The reason may be hidden in God’s providence, which can provide a haven for faith (cf. 26:54). But it may also be that during this time of inaugurated reign before the messianic age attains its splendor, conflict is inevitable, precisely because the kingdom is only inaugurated. The conflict extends not only to families (10:34–37) but to nations and even nature (cf. Ro 8:20–21; Col 1:16, 20).

The effect of these verses, then, is not to curb enthusiasm for the Lord’s return but to warn against false claimants and an expectation of a premature return based on misconstrued signs.

9–13 Tote (“then,” v.9) is an elusive word (see

). In Matthew 24 alone it occurs in vv.9, 10, 14, 16, 21, 23, 30, 40. Translated “then” in v.9, it occurs as “At that time” in v.10. Certainly there is no suggestion of sequence between v.8 and v.9; it is during the “birth pains” that Jesus’ disciples will be persecuted and killed. “You” quite clearly extends beyond the immediate disciples and includes all the followers Jesus will have. Persecution would break out early (cf. Ac 4:1–30; 7:59–8:3; 12:1–5; Rev 2:10–14) and keep on during the “birth pains,” against a background of hatred by the whole world (cf. Ac 28:22).

Thlipsis (“persecution,” “tribulation,” “distress,” GK 2568) occurs four times in Matthew, three in this chapter (13:21; 24:9, 21, 29), and relates significantly to the chapter’s structure (see

). Jesus establishes thlipsis as characteristic of this age (cf. 10:16–39)—a time when many will “turn away” (skandalisthēsontai, GK 4997) from the faith (for the verb, see

;

) and hate each other (24:10).

In this chapter, there are several allusions to Daniel (cf. Da 11:35; linguistically some LXX MSS of Da 11:41; see D. Wenham, “A Note on Matthew 24:10–12,” TynBul 31 [1980]: 155–62; esp. Trotter, “Understanding and Stumbling”) and a certain parallelism between v.10 and vv.11–12. Those who turn away from the faith are deceived by false prophets, and those who hate each other do so because wickedness abounds and the love of most grows cold (cf. Trotter). Professing believers are either included in this description or are the focus of interest; but only those who endure—in love (v.12) and despite persecution (vv.9–11; cf. Rev 2:10)—will be saved (v.13). They must “stand firm” (endure) to the end. Individual responsibility persists to the end of life, but corporate responsibility to the final consummation. Part of the effect of this “tribulation,” therefore, is to purify the body of professed disciples. Those who endure are saved, as in Daniel 11:32, 34–35, and elsewhere in Matthew (see

;

; cf. 2Ti 2:3, 10–13; 3:11; Heb 10:32; 11:27; 12:2–3; Jas 1:12; 5:11).

The reasons for falling away may differ. In 13:21, the cause is thlipsis (“persecution” or “tribulation”), and in 24:10–12, it is false prophets (see

). But even here, the false prophecy finds some of its appeal in the matrix of trouble and persecution (vv.4–9) from which it emerges. Matthew cares little whether faith is lost owing to fear of physical violence or to deception effected by false prophets. The result is the same and is to be expected throughout this age (cf. 7:15–23; 24:24; Ac 20:29–30; 2Pe 2:1; 1Jn 4:1).

14 But none of this means that the gospel of the kingdom (see

) is not preached or that its saving message does not spread throughout the world. Despite persecution—and often because of it (Ac 8:1, 4)—the Good News is “preached” (kērychthēsetai, GK 3062; see

) “as a testimony to all nations.” The expression is itself neutral (see

), and the gospel will bring either salvation or a curse, depending on how it is received. Thus the theme of Gentile mission is again made explicit (see

;

;

;

;

;

;

NOTES

10 The reciprocal pronoun ἀλλήλους (allēlous, “one another”), used twice in this verse, can scarcely be strictly reciprocal in either case.

OVERVIEW

Although many commentators hold that Matthew (but probably not Mk and certainly not Lk) here portrays not just the fall of Jerusalem but also the great tribulation before Antichrist comes (e.g., Hill), the details in vv.16–21 are too limited geographically and culturally to justify that view. For other interpretations, see comments at the beginning of this chapter. For justification of a pericope termination at v.21 instead of the more common v.22, see below (on vv.21–22).

15“So when you see standing in the holy place ‘the abomination that causes desolation,’ spoken of through the prophet Daniel—let the reader understand—16then let those who are in Judea flee to the mountains. 17Let no one on the roof of his house go down to take anything out of the house. 18Let no one in the field go back to get his cloak. 19How dreadful it will be in those days for pregnant women and nursing mothers! 20Pray that your flight will not take place in winter or on the Sabbath. 21For then there will be great distress, unequaled from the beginning of the world until now—and never to be equaled again.”

COMMENTARY

15 Oun (“so”) can serve as either an inferential or merely a transitional conjunction (cf. BDAG, 736–37; BDF, para. 451.1, plus appendix; Grammar, 119–92; Turner, Syntax, 337–38), which can sometimes be left untranslated; it does not introduce something temporally new. If it retains any inferential force in this passage, it is very light—“accordingly, when you see ... then flee.” Having characterized the entire age during which the gospel of the kingdom is preached as a time of thlipsis (“distress”), Jesus goes on to talk about one part of it when there will be particularly “great distress.”

To bdelygma tēs erēmōseōs means “the abomination characterized by desolation,” leaving it unclear whether the abomination “causes” desolation (NIV; cf. McNeile, “the abominable thing that layeth waste”; NRSV, “the desolating sacrilege”) or is simply a token of it. The former is more likely. The expression occurs three times in Daniel (9:27; 11:31; 12:11; cf. 8:13, “rebellion that causes desolation”). Daniel 11:31 clearly refers to the desecration under Antiochus Epiphanes (168 BC; cf. 1 Macc 1:54–61), who erected an altar to Zeus over the altar of burned offering, sacrificed a swine on it, and made the practice of Judaism a capital offense. The other references in Daniel are more disputed. Matthew and Mark agree with the LXX of Daniel 12:11 only; “[despite] the primary importance of Daniel 9:27 for the meaning of the expression, 12:11 is contextually the more suitable reference so far as the gospels are concerned, because allusions to Daniel 11:40–12:13 surround this reference to the abomination of desolation” (Gundry, Use of the Old Testament, 48).

Jesus, then, is identifying Daniel 9:27 and 12:11 with certain events about to take place; the parenthetical “let the reader understand” is designed to draw the attention of the reader of Daniel to the passages’ true meaning. This parenthetical aside is not a Matthean addition (unless one holds to Matthew’s priority), for it is already in Mark. Matthew clearly understood it, not as an aside by Mark to draw the attention of his readers to the importance of this gospel text, but as an aside by Jesus to draw the attention of his hearers who read Daniel to the importance of Daniel’s words; hence Jesus’ mention of “the prophet Daniel.” Whether the identification Jesus makes is a prediction fulfillment or a typological fulfillment depends largely on how one understands the various “abomination of desolation” passages in Daniel.

But to what event does Jesus make this text from Daniel refer? Some have suggested Caligula’s plan to set up a pagan altar and standards in the temple precincts (AD 40), a plan never carried out; but the description in the following verses cannot apply to that. The obvious occasion, in general terms, is AD 70, though certain difficulties must be faced. Although topos (“place,” GK 5536) can refer to the city of Jerusalem (cf. BDAG, 1011), the normal meaning of topos hagios (“holy place”) is the temple complex (cf. BDAG; see Isa 60:13; 2 Macc 1:29; 2:18; Ac 6:13; 21:28). But by the time the Romans had actually desecrated the temple in AD 70, it was too late for anyone in the city to flee.

Mark’s language is less explicit—“standing where it does not belong” (Mk 13:14) instead of “standing in the holy place.” Luke resolves the matter: “When you see Jerusalem being surrounded by armies, you will know that its desolation is near” (Lk 21:20)—but now there is no explicit mention of “the abomination of desolation.” Possibly Jesus said something ambiguous, such as Mark reports. Luke, writing for a Gentile audience less concerned with Daniel, emphasizes the aspect of warning. Matthew, believing the allusions to Daniel important for his Jewish audience because Jesus drew attention to them, makes explicit reference to “the abomination of desolation” and to “the holy place,” since the setting up of the abomination in the holy place is the inevitable result of the pagan attack.

By the time the Roman military standards (an eagle in silver or bronze over the imperial bust, to which soldiers paid homage not far removed from worship) surrounded Jerusalem, the city was defiled. Some have held that though Luke refers to the approaching armies, Matthew and Mark refer to the Zealot excesses that polluted the temple before AD 70 (including murder and the installation of a false high priest; cf. Josephus, J.W. 4.147–57 [3.6–8], 162–92 [3.10], 334–44 [5.4]), when there was still time to flee (e.g., Lane, Mark, 469; Gaston, No Stone, 458ff.). In any case, there is reasonably good tradition that Christians abandoned the city, perhaps in AD 68, about halfway through the siege.

16–19 The instructions Jesus gives his disciples about what to do in view of v.15 are so specific that they must be related to the Jewish War. The devastation would stretch far beyond the city; people throughout Judea should flee to the mountains, where the Maccabeans had hidden in caves. Most roofs were flat (cf. Dt 22:8; Mk 2:4; Ac 10:9)—pleasant places in the cool of the day. Verse 17 implies such haste that fugitives will not take time to run downstairs for anything to take with them but will run from roof to roof to evacuate the city as quickly as possible (cf. Josephus, Ant. 13.140 [5.3]). People in the fields will not have time to go home for their cloaks (see

). It will be especially dreadful (lit., “woe,” here like a compassionate “alas!”) for pregnant women and nursing mothers.

20 Flight is obviously harder in winter. As for fleeing on the Sabbath, travel would become more difficult because few would help, and many would try to prevent traveling farther than a Sabbath day’s journey. Jesus clearly expects these events to take place while the strict Sabbath law is in effect.

21 “For” introduces the reason for flight in vv.17–20: thlipsis (“distress,” “tribulation”) and unprecedented suffering (cf. Da 12:1; 1 Macc 9:27; Rev 7:14; see Gundry, Use of Old Testament, 49–50). The savagery, slaughter, disease, and famine (mothers eating their own children) were monstrous (cf. Josephus, J.W. 5.424–38 [10.2–3]), “unequaled from the beginning of the world until now,” and, according to Jesus, “never to be equaled again.” There have been greater numbers of deaths—six million in the Nazi death camps, mostly Jews, and an estimated twenty million under Stalin—but never so high a percentage of a great city’s population so thoroughly and painfully exterminated and enslaved as during the fall of Jerusalem.

From this “great distress” Jesus’ followers were to flee. Eusebius (Hist. eccl. 3.5.2–3) says that during the siege under Titus (who did not replace his father Vespasian as commanding officer until AD 69, after the death of Galba), many were permitted to leave (cf. Josephus, J.W. 5.420–23 [10.1]). Others hold that the Christians left in 66 or 68.

That Jesus in v.21 promises that such “great distress” is never to be equaled implies that it cannot refer to the tribulation at the end of the age; for if what happens next is the millennium or the new heaven and the new earth, it seems inane to say that such “great distress” will not take place again. At the same time, by these remarks Jesus finishes his description of Jerusalem in Matthew and Mark (Luke goes to 21:24). (For the way Luke’s version of the discourse fits this framework, see Wenham, Rediscovery of Jesus’ Eschatological Discourse.)

NOTES

18 Only here and in Luke 7:38 is ὀπίσω (opisō, “back”) used as an adverb (cf. Moule, Idiom Book, 86).

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