(2) Light (5:14–16)

(2) Light (5:14–16)

OVERVIEW

For the first time, Matthew parallels Mark (Mk 1:1–11), Luke (Lk 3:1–22), and, more loosely, John (Jn 1:19–34). Whatever diversity there is among prologues, the four gospels unanimously preface the ministry of Jesus with that of John the Baptist. Matthew omits any mention of Jesus’ youth (Lk 2:41–52) or of John’s birth and background (Lk 1:5–25, 39–45, 57–80). This may imply that Matthew’s readers were already familiar with that background (so Tasker) or that Matthew wants to plunge dramatically into his account. After four hundred silent years, God was speaking through a new prophet, who called people to repentance and promised someone greater to come.

In addition to the implications of this commentary’s of Matthew, the gospel has many substructures pointing to a writer of great literary skill. Gooding (“Structure littéraire,” 234) points out interesting parallels between chs. 1–2 and 3–4, too lengthy to be detailed here.

1In those days John the Baptist came, preaching in the Desert of Judea 2and saying, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is near.” 3This is he who was spoken of through the prophet Isaiah:

“A voice of one calling in the desert,

‘Prepare the way for the Lord,

make straight paths for him.’”

4John’s clothes were made of camel’s hair, and he had a leather belt around his waist. His food was locusts and wild honey. 5People went out to him from Jerusalem and all Judea and the whole region of the Jordan. 6Confessing their sins, they were baptized by him in the Jordan River.

7But when he saw many of the Pharisees and Sadducees coming to where he was baptizing, he said to them: “You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the coming wrath? 8Produce fruit in keeping with repentance. 9And do not think you can say to yourselves, ‘We have Abraham as our father.’ I tell you that out of these stones God can raise up children for Abraham. 10The ax is already at the root of the trees, and every tree that does not produce good fruit will be cut down and thrown into the fire.

11“I baptize you with water for repentance. But after me will come one who is more powerful than I, whose sandals I am not fit to carry. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and with fire. 12His winnowing fork is in his hand, and he will clear his threshing floor, gathering his wheat into the barn and burning up the chaff with unquenchable fire.”

COMMENTARY

1 Matthew’s temporal note, “In those days,” is vague and reflects a similarly loose expression in the OT (e.g., Ge 38:1; Ex 2:11, 23; Isa 38:1). His phrase may mean “in those crucial days” (Hill) or even “in the days in which Jesus and his family lived at Nazareth” (Broadus; cf. 4:13). More likely, however, it is a general term that reveals little chronologically but insists that the account is historical (Bonnard). Luke 3:1 offers more chronological help, but its significance is disputed (cf. Hoehner, Chronological Aspects, 29–44). The year was AD 27, 28, or 29 (less likely 26).

“John,” or “Johanan,” had been a popular name among the Jews from the time of John Hyrcanus (d. 106 BC). Four or five “Johns” are mentioned in the NT. The John in Matthew 3:1 was soon designated “the Baptist” (see Notes) because baptism was so prominent in his ministry. He began his preaching in the “Desert of Judea,” a vaguely defined area including the lower Jordan Valley north of the Dead Sea and the country immediately west of the Dead Sea. It is hot and, apart from the Jordan itself, largely arid, though not unpopulated. It was used for pasturage (Ps 65:12; Joel 2:22; Lk 15:4) and had Essene communities. “Desert” had long had prophetic overtones (the Law was given in the “wilderness”). The Zealots used the desert as a hiding place (cf. Mt 24:26; Ac 21:38; see Josephus, Ant. 20.97–98 [5.1]). Therefore some commentators see more theological than geographical force in Matthew 3:1 (e.g., Bonnard, Maier). The modifying phrase “of Judea” makes the antithesis between geography and theology false. The desert was a particular area (cf. R. Funk, “The Wilderness,” JBL 78 [1959]: 205–14) but may also have had prophetic implications for first-century readers.

2 John’s preaching had two elements. The first was a call to repent. Though the verb metanoeō (GK 3566) is often explained etymologically as “to change one’s mind,” or popularly as “to be sorry for something,” neither rendering is adequate. In classical Greek, the verb could refer to a purely intellectual change of mind. But the NT usage has been influenced by the Hebrew verbs nāḥam (“to be sorry for one’s actions,” GK 5714) and šûb (“to turn around to new actions,” GK 8740). The latter is common in the prophets’ call to the people to return to the covenant with Yahweh (cf. NIDNTT 1:357–59; Turner, Christian Words, 374–77). What is meant is not a merely intellectual change of mind or mere grief, still less doing penance (see Notes), but a radical transformation of the entire person, a fundamental turnaround involving mind and action and including overtones of grief, which results in “fruit in keeping with repentance” (v.8). Of course, all this assumes that human actions are fundamentally off course and need radical change. John applies this repentance to the religious leaders of his day (3:7–8) with particular vehemence. (On the differences between biblical and rabbinic emphases on repentance, see Lane, Mark, 593–600.)

The second element in John’s preaching was the nearness of the kingdom of heaven, and this is given as the ground for repentance. Throughout the OT, there was a rising expectation of a divine visitation that would establish justice, crush opposition, and renew the very universe. This hope was couched in many categories. It was presented as the fulfillment of promises to David’s heir, as the Day of the Lord (which often had dark overtones of judgment, though there were bright exceptions, e.g., Zep 3:14–20), as a new heaven and a new earth, and as a time of regathering Israel, as the inauguration of a new and transforming covenant (2Sa 7:13–14; Isa 1:24–28; 9:6–7; 11:1–10; 64–66; Jer 23:5–6; 31:31–34; Eze 37:24; Da 2:44; 7:13–14; cf. Ridderbos, Coming of the Kingdom, 3–15; Ladd, Presence of the Future, 45–75).

The predominant meaning of “kingdom” in the OT (Heb. malkût, GK 4895; Aram. malkûta, see GK 10424) is “reign”; the term has dynamic force. Similarly in the NT, though basileia (“kingdom,” GK 993) can refer to a territory (4:8), the overwhelming majority of instances use the term with dynamic force. This stands over against the prevailing rabbinic terminology, in which “kingdom” was increasingly spiritualized or planted in men’s hearts (e.g., b. Ber. 4a). In the first century, there was little agreement among Jews as to what the messianic kingdom would be like (cf. Joseph A. Fitzmyer, The One Who Is to Come (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2007]). One popular assumption was that the Roman yoke would be shattered and there would be political peace and mounting prosperity. For excellent surveys of this history of interpretation of “kingdom of God/heaven” from the OT documents through to Matthew, see Christian Grappe, Le Royaume de Dieu: Avant, avec et après Jésus (Geneva: Labor et Fides, 2001); Rick Brown, “A Brief History of Interpretations of ‘The Kingdom of God’ and Some Consequences for Translation,” Notes 15 (2001): 3–23; Hannan, Nature and Demands.

Except at 12:28; 19:24; 21:31, 43, and in some MSS of 6:33, Matthew always uses “kingdom of heaven” instead of “kingdom of God” (this reckoning excludes references to “my kingdom” and the like), whereas Mark and Luke prefer “kingdom of God.” Matthew’s preferred expression certainly does not restrict God’s reign to the heavens. The biblical goal is the manifest exercise of God’s sovereignty, his “reign” on earth and among men. There are enough parallels among the Synoptics to imply that “kingdom of God” and “kingdom of heaven” denote the same thing (e.g., Mt 19:23–24 = Mk 10:23–25); the connotative distinction is less certain.

Classic dispensationalists (e.g., A. C. Gaebelein, John Walvoord) hold that “kingdom of God” is a distinctively spiritual kingdom, a narrower category embracing only true believers, whereas “kingdom of heaven” is the kingdom of millennial splendor, a broader category including (as in the parable, 13:47–50) both good and bad fish. The distinction is unfortunate. It comes perilously close to confusing kingdom and church (see

The most common explanation is that Matthew avoided “kingdom of God” to remove unnecessary offense to Jews who often used circumlocutions like “heaven” to refer to God (e.g., Da 4:26; 1 Macc 3:50, 60; 4:55; Lk 15:18, 21). The suggestion cannot be ruled out entirely but cannot be given much weight in the light of the fact that Matthew is often happy to refer to “God” directly.

Matthew is a subtle and allusive writer, and other factors appear to be involved: (1) “Kingdom of heaven” may anticipate the extent of Christ’s postresurrection authority. God’s sovereignty in heaven and on earth is now mediated through him (Mt 28:18). (2) “Kingdom of God” makes God the King, and though this does not prevent the other Synoptics from ascribing the kingship to Jesus (cf. Lk 22:16, 18, 29–30), there is less room to maneuver. Matthew’s “kingdom of heaven” assumes it is God’s kingdom and occasionally assigns it specifically to the Father (Mt 26:29), though leaving room to ascribe it frequently to Jesus (16:28; 25:31, 34, 40; 27:42; probably 5:35); for Jesus is King Messiah. This inevitably has christological implications. The kingdom of heaven is simultaneously the kingdom of the Father and the kingdom of the Son of Man. (3) Jonathan Pennington (Heaven and Earth) has shown that Matthew contrasts “heaven” and “earth” as two spheres, two kingdoms—one that embraces all that is God-centered and good, the other all that is in rebellion and characterized by corruption. By preferring “kingdom of heaven” to “kingdom of God,” Matthew is sustaining this powerful antithesis and drawing attention to the quality of the kingdom that both the Baptist and Jesus announce.

This kingdom, John preached, “is near” (ēngiken, lit., “has drawn near,” GK 1581). Jews spoke of the Messiah as “the coming one” (11:3) and the messianic age as “the coming age” (Heb 6:5): John says it has now drawn “near,” the same message preached by Jesus (Mt 4:17) and his disciples (10:7). It is possible, but not certain, that the verb has the same force as ephthasen (GK 5777) in 12:28. There Jesus unambiguously affirms that the kingdom “has come.” That passage makes it clear that it is the exercise of God’s saving sovereignty or reign that has dawned. The ambiguous “is near” (3:2; 4:17), coupled with the dynamic sense of “kingdom,” prepares us for a constant theme: The kingdom came with Jesus and his preaching and miracles, it came with his death and resurrection, and it will come at the end of the age.

Matthew has already established that Jesus was born King (2:2). Later Jesus declared that his work testified the kingdom had come (12:28), even though he frequently spoke of the kingdom as something to be inherited when the Son of Man comes in his glory. It is false to say that “kingdom” undergoes a radical shift with the mention of mystery (NIV, “secrets”; see

These and related themes become clearer as Matthew’s gospel progresses (cf. Ladd, Theology of the New Testament, 57–90). But two observations cannot be delayed. First, the Baptist’s terminology, though veiled, necessarily roused enormous excitement (v.5). But assorted apocalyptic and political expectations would have brought about a profound misunderstanding of the kingdom being preached. Therefore Jesus himself purposely used veiled terminology when treating themes like this. This becomes increasingly obvious in Matthew. The second observation relates to the first. Just as the angel’s announcement to Joseph declared Jesus’ primary purpose to be to save his people from their sins (1:21), so the first announcement of the kingdom is associated with repentance and confession of sin (v.6). These themes are constantly intertwined in Matthew (cf. Goppelt, Theologie des Neuen Testaments, 128–88).

3 If the gar (“for”) has its full force, then the NIV should read, “For this is he”; and v.3 becomes the ground for the Baptist’s preaching in v.2. This is the one OT citation of Matthew’s own eleven direct OT quotations that is not introduced by a fulfillment formula (see Introduction, ). It goes too far, however (contra Gundry), to say that the omission of fulfillment language means that for Matthew, John the Baptist does not fulfill Scripture but serves merely as a “prototypical Christian preacher.” If Matthew had wanted to say so little, he would have been better off eliminating the OT passage. Instead, he introduces it with a pesher formula (e.g., Ac 2:16; see Introduction, ) that can only be understood as identifying the Baptist in an eschatological, prophecy-and-fulfillment framework with the one of whom Isaiah (Isa 40:3) spoke.

The Baptist’s role is minimally exemplary. According to John 1:23, the Baptist once applied this passage to himself. Here Matthew does it for him. In the MT, the words “in the desert” modify “prepare”: “In the desert prepare the way of the LORD.” But all three Synoptics here follow the LXX. The immediate effect is to locate in the desert the one who is calling. Some have thought this a deliberate attempt to make the fulfillment extend to geographical details. But Mark consistently follows the LXX, and Matthew often follows Mark. So we must not read too much into the change. There may be an error in the Hebrew accents, which associate “in the desert” with “prepare” (Gundry, Use of the Old Testament, 10). In any case, if one shouts a command in the desert, his intent is that it be spread everywhere; so there is little difference in meaning (Alexander).

In Isaiah 40:3, the way of Yahweh is being “made straight” (a metaphor using road building to refer to repentance); in Matthew 3:3 it is the way of Jesus. This sort of identification of Jesus with Yahweh is common in the NT (e.g., Ex 13:21 and 1Co 10:1; Ex 17:6 and 1Co 10:4; Isa 6:1 and Jn 12:41; Ps 68:18 and Eph 4:8; Ps 102:25–27 and Heb 1:10–12) and confirms the kingdom as being equally the kingdom of God and the kingdom of Jesus. While the deity of Christ is only implicit in such texts, it certainly goes beyond Jesus’ being merely a royal envoy. The Qumran covenanters cited the same passage to foster study of the law in preparation for the eschaton (1QS 8:12ff.; 9:19; cf. Fitzmyer, Essays on the Semitic Background, 34–36); but Matthew identifies the Baptist as the voice and the eschatological age as already dawning in Jesus’ coming.

4–5 Clothes of camel’s hair and a leather belt (the latter to bind up the loose outer garment) not only were the clothes of poor people, but they establish links with Elijah (2Ki 1:8; cf. Mal 4:5). “Locusts” (akrides) are large grasshoppers, still eaten in the East, not the fruit of the “locust tree” (cf. BDAG, 39). Wild honey is what it purports to be, not gum from a tree (cf. Jdg 14:8–9; 1Sa 14:25–29; Ps 81:16). Both suggest a poor man used to wilderness living, and this suggests a connection with the prophets (cf. Mt 3:1; 11:8–9)—so much so that in Zechariah’s day (13:4) some false prophets dressed like prophets to deceive people. Both Elijah and John had stern ministries in which austere garb and diet confirmed their message and condemned the idolatry of physical and spiritual softness. “Even the food and dress of John preached” (Bengel, Gnomon). See James Kelhoffer, The Diet of John the Baptist: ‘Locusts and Wild Honey’ in Synoptic and Patristic Interpretation (Tübingen: Mohr, 2005). John’s impact was enormous (v.5), and his crowds came from a wide area. In Greek, the places are personified (as in 2:3).

6 Confession of sin was commanded in the law, not only as part of a priest’s duties (Lev 16:21), but as an individual responsibility for wrongs done (Lev 5:5; 26:40; Nu 5:6–7; Pr 28:13). In Israel’s better days, this was carried out (Ne 9:2–3; Ps 32:5). In the NT (cf. Ac 19:18; 1Jn 1:9), confession is scarcely less important. Because Matthew does not include “for the forgiveness of sins” (Mk 1:4), some have deduced that he wants to avoid suggesting any possibility of forgiveness until Jesus’ death (Mt 26:28). This is too subtle. A first-century reader would hardly hold that sins were not forgiven after being honestly confessed. And since Matthew regularly abbreviates Mark where he uses him, we must be cautious in drawing theological conclusions from such omissions.

The Greek does not make clear whether the confession was individual or corporate, simultaneous with baptism or antecedent to it. Josephus (Ant. 18.116–17 [5.2]) says that John, “surnamed the Baptist,” required righteous conduct as a “necessary preliminary if baptism was to be acceptable to God.” Since John was urging people to prepare for the Messiah’s coming by repenting and being baptized, we may surmise that open renunciation of sin was a precondition of his baptism, which was, therefore, both a confirmation of confession and an eschatological sign.

Since the discovery of the Dead Sea Scrolls, many have tried to link John’s baptism with that of the Qumran covenanters. But their washings, though related to confession, were probably regarded as purifying and were repeated (cf. 1QS 1:24ff.; 5:13–25) to remove ritual uncleanness. John’s baptism, probably a once-only rite (contra Albright and Mann), was unrelated to ceremonial impurity. The rabbis used baptism to induct proselytes but never Jews (Str-B, 1:102–12). It is best to read John’s baptism against the complex background of OT rituals, Jewish proselyte baptism, and the washing practices of sectarians like those at Qumran rather than against the background of a specific group (so, rightly, Turner). As far as we know, though baptism itself was not uncommon, the pointed but limited associations placed on John’s baptism stem from the Baptist himself—not unlike circumcision, which predates Abraham but lacked covenantal significance before his time.

The Jordan River is fast flowing. No doubt John stationed himself at one of the fords and prepared the way for the Lord.

7 Many have raised the question of the probability of individuals from groups so mutually hostile as Pharisees and Sadducees (see Introduction, ) presenting themselves together (one article governs both nouns) for baptism. But the Greek text need not be taken to mean they came to be baptized. It may only mean they were “coming to where John was baptizing” (see Notes). If so, it might suggest that representatives of the Sanhedrin (composed of both parties with elders) came to examine what he was doing (cf. Jn 1:19, 24, which mentions not only priests and Levites [Sadducees] but also Pharisees). Or many Pharisees and Sadducees may have come for baptism with the ostentation that characterized their other religious activities (e.g., Mt 6:2, 5, 16)—i.e., they were showing the world how ready they were for Messiah, though they had not truly repented. Matthew lumps them together because they were leaders; elsewhere he distinguishes them (22:34).

The question with which the Baptist confronted them has this sense: “Who suggested to you that you would escape the coming wrath?” Thus John’s rhetorical question takes on a sarcastic nuance: “Who warned you to flee the coming wrath and come for baptism—when, in fact, you show no signs of repentance?” Though the question is the same in Luke 3:7, there Luke relates it to the crowd, whereas Matthew relates it to the Jewish leaders.

John the Baptist stands squarely in the prophetic tradition—a tradition in which the Day of the Lord points much more to darkness than to light for those who think they have no sin (Am 2:4–8; 6:1–7). “You brood of vipers!” also belongs to the prophetic tradition (cf. Isa 14:29; 30:6; cf. CD 19:22); in Mt 12:34, Jesus uses these terms to excoriate the Pharisees.

8–9 The coming of God’s reign either demands repentance (v.2) or brings judgment. Repentance must be genuine. If we wish to escape the coming wrath (v.7), then our entire lifestyle must be in harmony with our oral repentance (v.8). Mere descent from Abraham is not enough (v.9). In the OT, God repeatedly cut off many Israelites and saved a remnant. Yet in the intertestamental period, the general use of descent from Abraham, in the context of a rising merit theology, supported the notion that Israel was chosen because it was choice and that the merits of the patriarchs would suffice for their descendants (cf. Carson, Divine Sovereignty, 39ff.). But not only may God narrow Israel down to a remnant; he may also raise up authentic children of Israel from “these stones” (perhaps stones lying in the riverbed—both Hebrew and Aramaic have a pun on “children” and “stones”). Ordinary stones will suffice; there is no need for the “rocks” of the patriarchs and their merits (cf. S. Schechter, Some Aspects of Rabbinic Theology [London: A. & C. Black, 1903], 173; see Ro 4). This and the not dissimilar thought in Matthew 8:11–12 prepare the way for Paul’s repeated emphasis on the fact that the true “sons of Abraham” are those who share Abraham’s faith, not necessarily his genes (Ro 4; Gal 3). Matthew 3:9 not only rebukes the self-righteousness of the leaders but implies that participation in the kingdom results from grace and extends the borders of God’s people beyond racial frontiers (cf. 8:11).

10 The ax is “already” (emphatic) at the root of the trees (for the idiom, see Isa 10:33–34; Jer 46:22). “Not only is there a coming messianic wrath, but already there is a beginning messianic discrimination among the descendants of Abraham” (Broadus). Just as the kingdom is dawning already (v.2), so also is the judgment; the two are inseparable. To preach the kingdom is to preach repentance; any tree (not “every tree,” NIV; cf. Turner, Syntax, 199), regardless of its roots, that does not bring forth good fruit will be destroyed.

11 Compare vv.11–12 with Luke 3:15–18 (Q?). Because only Matthew says, “I baptize you with water for repentance” (emphasis mine), Hill detects a conscious effort to subordinate John to Jesus. John baptizes as preparation “for repentance”; Jesus baptizes for fulfillment “with the Holy Spirit and fire.” But both Mark (1:4) and Luke (3:3) have spoken of John’s baptism as one of repentance. And when Jesus begins to preach, he too demands repentance (Mt 4:17). If there is an antithesis here between John and Jesus, it is in all three Synoptic Gospels. Matthew may be stressing the difference between the baptisms of John and Jesus in order to make a point about eschatology (see below and

The phrase “for repentance” (eis metanoian) is difficult. Eis plus the accusative frequently suggests purpose (“I baptize you in order that you will repent”). Contextually (v.6), this is unlikely, even in the peculiar telic sense suggested by Broadus: “I baptize you with a view to continued repentance.” But causal eis, or something very close to it, is not unknown in the NT (cf. Turner, Syntax, 266–67): “I baptize you because of your repentance.” The force may, however, be weaker—i.e., “I baptize you with reference to or in connection with repentance” (so Blomberg [NAC]; Murray Harris, NIDNTT 3:1208–9). In any case, John wants to contrast his baptism with that of the one who comes after him (any allusion here to the messianic title “the one who comes” is doubtful; cf. Arens, ῏Ηλθον-sayings, 288–90). That one is “more powerful” than John: the same term (ischyros, GK 2708) is applied to God in the OT (LXX Jer 32:18; Da 9:4; cf. also Isa 40:10), and the cognate noun to the Messiah in Psalms of Solomon 17. This is not the normal order. Usually the one who follows is the disciple, the lesser one (cf. 16:24; Jn 13:16; 15:20). But because John’s particular ministry is to announce the eschatological figure, he cannot do other than precede him.

Though John was the most sought-after preacher in Israel to appear in centuries, he protested that he was not fit to “carry” (Mark and Luke have “untie”) the sandals of the Coming One. Many scholars have argued that this saying must be a late invention of Christians determined to keep the Baptist in his place and exalt Jesus. In fact, such humility as John’s is in Christian ethics a virtue, not a weakness. Moreover, if he saw his role as that of forerunner to the Messiah, John could not well have set himself on a par with the one to whom he pointed (cf. Jn 3:28–31). No doubt the church readily used John’s self-depreciation in later conflicts with his followers. But there is no evidence they invented it.

It follows that just as John’s purpose was to prepare a way for the Lord by calling people to repentance, so his baptism pointed to the one who would bring the eschatological baptism in spirit and fire. John’s baptism was “essentially preparatory” (cf. J. D. G. Dunn, Baptism in the Holy Spirit [London: SCM Press, 1970], 14–17; Bonnard); Jesus’ baptism inaugurated the messianic age.

“Baptism in the Holy Spirit” is not a specialized term in the NT. Its OT background includes Ezekiel 36:25–27; 39:29; Joel 2:28. We need not think that John the Baptist could not have mentioned the Holy Spirit, not least because of somewhat similar references in the literature at Qumran (1QS 3:7–9; 4:21; 1QH 16:12; cf. Dunn, Baptism in the Holy Spirit, 8–10). But Matthew and Luke add “and fire.” Many see this as a double baptism, one in the Holy Spirit for the righteous and one in fire for the unrepentant (cf. the wheat and chaff in Mt 3:12). Fire (Mal 4:1) destroys and consumes.

There are good reasons, however, for taking “fire” as a purifying agent along with the Holy Spirit. The people John is addressing are being baptized by him; presumably they have repented. More important, the preposition en (“with”) is not repeated before fire. The one preposition governs both “Holy Spirit” and “fire,” and this normally suggests a unified concept, Spirit-fire or the like (see NIDNTT, 3:1178; Dunn, Baptism in the Holy Spirit, 10–13). Fire often has a purifying, not destructive, connotation in the OT (e.g., Isa 1:25; Zec 13:9; Mal 3:2–3). John’s water baptism relates to repentance, but the one whose way he is preparing will administer a Spirit-fire baptism that will purify and refine. In a time when many Jews felt the Holy Spirit had been withdrawn until the messianic age, this announcement could only have been greeted with excited anticipation.

12 Messiah’s coming will separate grain from chaff. A winnowing fork tossed both into the air. The wind blew the chaff away, and the heavier grain fell to be gathered up from the ground. The scattered chaff was swept up and burned and the threshing floor cleared (cf. Ps 1:4; Isa 5:24; Da 2:35; Hos 13:3). The “unquenchable fire” signifies eschatological judgment (cf. Isa 34:10; 66:24; Jer 7:20)—hell (cf. 5:29). “Unquenchable fire” is not just metaphor. Fearful reality underlies Messiah’s separation of grain from chaff. The “nearness” of the kingdom therefore calls for repentance (v.2).

NOTES

1 Matthew has ὁ βαπτιστής (ho baptistēs, “the baptist”); Mark (1:4) uses the participle [ὁ] βαπτίζων ([ho] baptizōn, lit., “the baptizer”). It is doubtful whether any distinction is intended, since “Baptist” has no sectarian or denominational flavor. It is too much to say with Gundry that Matthew consistently uses “the Baptist” instead of “the baptizer” to divert attention from John’s practice of baptism to his role as preacher, for the latter is not stressed, and Matthew includes the specific statement of 3:6, “they were baptized by” John.

“Preaching” (verb κηρύσσω [kēryssō, GK 3062], noun κήρυγμα [kērygma, GK 3060]) has often been distinguished from “teaching” (διδαχή [didachē, GK 1439]) in such a way that the so-called kerygmatic elements were often robbed of content, and virtually everything in the NT was confidently assigned to one category or the other. Studies over the past few decades have demonstrated how grossly oversimplified such an antithesis is (cf. J. I. H. McDonald, Kerygma and Didache [Cambridge: Cambridge Univ. Press, 1980]) and have suggested other equally important and sometimes overlapping categories (e.g., A. A. Trites, The New Testament Concept of Witness [Cambridge: Cambridge Univ. Press, 1977]).

2 The verb μετανοέω (metanoeō, “repent,” GK 3567) was rendered in Latin poenitentiam agere (“exercise penitence”), the word “penitence” suggesting grief, distress, pain, but not necessarily change. Eventually, poenitentiam agite (“do penitence”) became preferred, and the contraction to “do penance” completed the slide to a pernicious concept quite alien to the NT.

7 The expression ἐπὶ τὸ βάπτισμα αὐτοῦ (epi to baptisma autou) is peculiar (lit., coming “to his baptism”); it could either mean “coming to be baptized” or “coming to the place where he was baptizing” (so NIV).

10 Moule (Idiom Book, 53) sees πρός (pros) plus the accusative here as combining linear motion with punctiliar rest on arrival. The ax has taken its first chop, as it were. But it is possible that the verb κεῖται (keitai, lit., “lies”; NIV, “is”) suggests the ax is merely lying at the root of the tree, ready for action.

OVERVIEW

Comparing the three synoptic accounts of Jesus’ baptism (cf. Mk 1:9–11; Lk 3:21–22) reveals distinctive features (e.g., only Mt has 3:14–15). But it is easy to exaggerate differences. As is often pointed out, Luke does not say John baptized Jesus; but in view of Luke 3:1–21, there is no doubt of this. As will be shown, some alleged distinctions among the evangelists are artificial; others highlight valuable theological emphases.

13Then Jesus came from Galilee to the Jordan to be baptized by John. 14But John tried to deter him, saying, “I need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me?”

15Jesus replied, “Let it be so now; it is proper for us to do this to fulfill all righteousness.” Then John consented.

16As soon as Jesus was baptized, he went up out of the water. At that moment heaven was opened, and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and lighting on him. 17And a voice from heaven said, “This is my Son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased.”

COMMENTARY

13 “Then” (tote) is vague in Matthew (see

14 Matthew 3:14–15 is peculiar to this gospel. John tried to deter Jesus (imperfect of attempted action) from his baptism, insisting (the pronouns are emphatic) that he stood in need of baptism by Jesus. Earlier John had difficulty baptizing the Pharisees and Sadducees because they were not worthy of his baptism. Now he has trouble baptizing Jesus because his baptism is not worthy of Jesus.

There are two possible ways of understanding John’s reluctance:

1. John recognizes Jesus as the Messiah and wants to receive Jesus’ Spirit-and-fire baptism. Despite the rising popularity of this view, it entails serious difficulties. The Spirit theme is not important in Matthew; righteousness is, and it is central to Jesus’ response (v.15). Matthew does not present Jesus as bestowing his Spirit-and-fire baptism on anyone. The cross and resurrection are focal for him; and writing after Pentecost (Ac 2), Matthew doubtless believes Jesus’ baptism was bestowed on his people later than the time he is writing about. In view of the Baptist’s statements about his relation to the Messiah (v.11), if he had recognized Jesus as the Messiah it is doubtful whether Jesus’ rebuttal would have convinced him (v.15). Moreover, this view brings Matthew into needless conflict with the fourth gospel (Jn 1:31–34), which says the Baptist did not “know” Jesus—i.e., recognize him as the Messiah—until after his baptism.

2. John’s baptism did not have purely eschatological significance. It also signified repentance and confession of sin. Whether John knew Jesus well, we do not know. It is, however, inconceivable that his parents had not told him of Mary’s visit to Elizabeth some three decades earlier (Lk 1:39–45). At the very least, John must have recognized that Jesus, to whom he was related, whose birth was more marvelous than his own and whose knowledge of Scripture was prodigious even as a child (Lk 2:41–52), outstripped him. John the Baptist was a humble man; conscious of his own sin, he could detect no sin Jesus needed to repent of and confess. So John thought that Jesus should baptize him. Matthew does not tell us when John also perceived that Jesus was the Messiah (though that may be implied by vv.16–17); Matthew focuses on Jesus’ sinlessness and the Father’s testimony, not on John’s testimony (unlike the fourth gospel, where the Baptist’s witness to Jesus is very important).

15 John’s consent was won because Jesus told him, “It is proper for us to do this to fulfill all righteousness.” Here interpretations are legion. They may be summed up as follows:

1. By undergoing baptism, Jesus anticipates his own baptism of death, by which he secures “righteousness” for all. This reads in the Suffering Servant of Isaiah 53:11 (“by his knowledge my righteous servant will justify many”). This view, espoused by many, is well defended by Cullmann (Baptism in the New Testament, 15ff.). It presupposes that the significance of Christian baptism should be read back into John’s baptism and takes no account of its salvation-historical location. Worse, Cullmann reads Paul’s use of “righteousness” back into Matthew, who in fact never uses the term that way but always as meaning “conformity to God’s will” or the like (see Przybylski, Righteousness in Matthew, 91–94). Moreover, the “us” is not a royal “us”; both Jesus and John must “fulfill all righteousness,” which renders doubtful any theory that ties the righteousness too closely to Jesus’ death. Gerhard Barth (“Matthew’s Understanding of the Law,” 140ff.) rejects Cullmann’s view but falls into the same weaknesses, holding that Jesus fulfills all righteousness by humbly entering the ranks of sinners and acting for them. The same objections apply. It is claiming too much, however, to say with Geerhardus Vos (Biblical Theology [Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1948], 320) that Jesus here “repented for the people vicariously.”

2. Others suggest that Jesus must obey (“fulfill”) every divine command (“all righteousness”), and baptism is one such command. Put so crassly, this view forgets that the baptism relates to repentance and confession of sins, not to righteousness itself. A slight modification of it says that by being baptized Jesus is acknowledging as valid the righteous life preached by John and demanded of those who accept John’s baptism, for Jesus acknowledges (21:32) that John came to show the way of righteousness. But this view forces “fulfill” to become “acknowledge” and neglects the fact that John’s baptism relates not to the standards of righteousness John preached but to repentance.

3. The strengths of the alternative views may be integrated in a better synthesis. John’s baptism had two foci—repentance and its eschatological significance. Jesus affirms, in effect, that it is God’s will (“all righteousness”) that John baptize him; and both John and Jesus “fulfill” that will, that righteousness, by going through with it (“it is proper for us”). The aftermath, as Matthew immediately notes (vv.16–17), shows that this baptism really did point to Jesus. Within this framework we may recognize other themes. In particular, Jesus is indeed seen as the Suffering Servant (Isa 42:1; see

This interpretation assumes that Jesus knew of his Suffering-Servant role from the beginning of his ministry (see

16 “As soon as” suggests not only that Jesus left the water immediately after his baptism but that the Spirit’s witness was equally prompt. Jesus’ baptism and its attestation are of a piece and must be interpreted together. “He saw” most naturally refers to Jesus (cf. Mk 1:10), not John, not so much because Matthew excludes John as because he is not the focus of interest. The presence of John (and possibly others) is probably implied by the third-person address “This is my Son” (v.17), displacing Mark’s “You are my Son” (Mk 1:11).

“Heaven ... opened” calls to mind OT visions (e.g., Isa 64:1; Eze 1:1; cf. Ac 7:56; Rev 4:1; 19:11). The simile “the Spirit of God descending like a dove” could mean either that the manner of the Spirit’s descent was like a dove’s or that the Spirit appeared in a dove’s form. Whether or not the latter is visionary, Luke 3:22 specifies it. Because no clear pre-Christian reference links dove and Holy Spirit, some have advanced complex theories: e.g., Mark collected two stories, one mentioning the Holy Spirit’s descent and the other the dove’s descent, and fused them together (cf. S. Gero, “The Spirit as a Dove at the Baptism of Jesus,” NovT 18 [1976]: 17–35). But to exclude any new metaphor from the Christian revelation is surely rash. (For a fine discussion of possible dove symbolism, see Davies and Allison.) The Spirit’s descent cannot be adequately considered apart from v.17, and so resolution of its meaning awaits comment there.

17 Some see in the “voice from heaven” the bat-qôl (lit., “daughter of a voice”), the category used by rabbinic and other writers to refer to divine communication echoing the Spirit of God after the Spirit and the prophets through whom he spoke had been withdrawn. The point, however, is stronger than that. This voice is God’s (“from heaven”) and testifies that God himself has broken silence and is again revealing himself to human beings—a clear sign of the dawning of the messianic age (cf. 17:5; Jn 12:28). What heaven says in Mark and Luke is “You are my Son”; here it is “This is my Son.” The change not only shows Matthew’s concern only for the ipsissima vox (not generally the ipsissima verba; see Notes) but also assumes someone besides Jesus heard heaven’s witness. There may have been a crowd; if so, that does not interest Matthew. But John needed to hear the Voice confirm his decision (v.15).

Despite arguments to the contrary (e.g., Hooker, Jesus and the Servant, 70ff.), the utterance reflects Isaiah 42:1: “Here is my servant, whom I uphold, my chosen one in whom I delight; I will put my Spirit upon him”; and this has been modified by Psalm 2:7: “You are my Son” (cf. Gundry, Use of the Old Testament, 29–32; esp. Moo, Old Testament in the Gospel Passion Narratives, 112ff.). The results are extraordinarily important.

1. These words from heaven link Jesus with the Suffering Servant at the very beginning of his ministry and confirm our interpretation of v.15.

2. God here refers to Jesus as “my Son”; implicitly the title “Son of God” is introduced and picked up immediately in the next chapter (4:3, 6). Psalm 2 is Davidic. Though it was not regarded in the first century as messianic, the link with David recalls other “son” passages where David or his heir is seen as God’s son (e.g., 2Sa 7:13–14; Ps 89:26–29).

3. Jesus has already been set forth as the true Israel to which actual Israel was pointing and as such God’s Son (see

4. At the same time, the virginal conception suggests a more than titular or functional sonship: in this context there is the hint of an ontological sonship, made most explicit in the gospel of John.

5. These things are linked in the one utterance. At the very beginning of Jesus’ public ministry, his Father presented him, in a veiled way, as at once Davidic Messiah, very Son of God, representative of the people, and Suffering Servant. Matthew has already introduced all these themes and will develop them further. Indeed, he definitely cites Isaiah 42:1–4 in Matthew 12:18–21, which ends with the assertion (already made clear) that the nations will trust in this Servant.

“Son of God” has particularly rich associations. Therefore it is hard to nail down its precise force at every occurrence. As it is wrong to see ontological sonship in every use, so is it wrong to exclude it prematurely. (For more adequate discussion, see, in addition to the standard dictionaries, Blair, Jesus in the Gospel of Matthew, 60ff.; Cullman, Christology, 270–305; Kingsbury, Structure, 40–83 [though he exaggerates the importance of the theme in Matthew: cf. Hill, “Son and Servant,” 2–16]; Ladd, Theology of the New Testament, 159–72; Moule, Origin of Christology, 22ff.)

The Spirit’s descent in v.16 needs to be understood in the light of v.17. The Spirit is poured out on the servant in Isaiah 42:1, to which v.17 alludes. This outpouring does not change Jesus’ status (he was the Son before this) or assign him new rights. Rather it identifies him as the promised Servant and Son and marks the beginning of his public ministry and direct confrontation with Satan (4:1), the dawning of the messianic age (12:28).

NOTES

14 The καί (kai, “and”) has adversative force—“and yet” (cf. Zerwick, Biblical Greek, para. 455; Turner, Syntax, 334). This may reflect the beginning of an Aramaic apodosis (Lagrange, xci).

16 If αὐτῷ (autō) is the correct reading, the text says the heavens opened “to him,” i.e., to Jesus. But this need not mean no one else experienced anything (see comments on “This is” at

17 The Latin vox means “voice,” and verba “words.” Ipsissima, from the Latin ipse (“self”), basically means “all by oneself” or the like. Ipsissima vox and ipsissima verba in NT study usually refer to “[Jesus’] own voice” and “[Jesus’] own words” respectively. The first implies that Jesus’ teaching is accurately preserved but in the evangelist’s own words, style, etc., whereas the latter refers to those places where Jesus’ actual words are preserved. In the narrowest sense, however, ipsissima verba, since Jesus spoke primarily Aramaic, would be restricted to words such as abba, talitha koum, etc. Others understand the term to include words of Jesus that are given in precise translation into Greek; but this, too, would be a destructive category to use as the only acceptable reflection of what Jesus taught. In this verse, of course, the words are not those of Jesus but of the Voice from heaven. Even so, Matthew preserves only the general sense, the ipsissima vox.

OVERVIEW

In the past, many scholars took this pericope and its parallel (Lk 4:1–13) as imaginative embellishments of Mark’s much briefer account. But J. Dupont (“L’arrière-fond biblique du récit des tentations de Jésus,” NTS 3 [1956–57]: 287–304) has argued persuasively that Mark’s brevity and the ambiguity of such statements as “he was with the wild animals” (Mk 1:13) imply that Mark’s readers were familiar with a larger account to which Mark makes brief reference. The account could only have come from Jesus, given to his disciples perhaps after Caesarea Philippi (so Dupont). Therefore it gives an important glimpse into Jesus’ self-perception as the Son of God (Mt 3:17; 4:3, 6) and, judging by the Scripture he quotes, the way he perceived his own relation to Israel (cf. France, Jesus and the Old Testament, 50–53).

Both Matthew and Mark tie the temptations to Jesus’ baptism (see

Luke reverses the order of the last two temptations for topographical reasons. Matthew’s order is almost certainly original (cf. Schweizer; Walvoord).

It is difficult to be certain exactly what happened or in what form Satan came to Jesus. Standing on a high mountain (v.8) would not itself provide a glimpse of “all the kingdoms of the world”; some supernatural vision is presupposed. Moreover, a forty-day fast is scarcely the ideal background for a trek to three separate and rugged sites. When we remember that Paul was not always sure whether his visions were “in the body or out of the body” (2Co 12:2), we may be cautious about dogmatizing here. But there is no reason to think the framework of the story is purely symbolic as opposed to visionary, representing Jesus’ inward struggles. If the demons could address him directly (e.g., Mt 8:29, 31), it is difficult to say Satan wouldn’t or couldn’t do this.

1Then Jesus was led by the Spirit into the desert to be tempted by the devil. 2After fasting forty days and forty nights, he was hungry. 3The tempter came to him and said, “If you are the Son of God, tell these stones to become bread.”

4Jesus answered, “It is written: ‘Man does not live on bread alone, but on every word that comes from the mouth of God.’”

5Then the devil took him to the holy city and had him stand on the highest point of the temple. 6“If you are the Son of God,” he said, “throw yourself down. For it is written:

“‘He will command his angels concerning you,

and they will lift you up in their hands,

so that you will not strike your foot against a stone.’”

7Jesus answered him, “It is also written: ‘Do not put the Lord your God to the test.’”

8Again, the devil took him to a very high mountain and showed him all the kingdoms of the world and their splendor. 9“All this I will give you,” he said, “if you will bow down and worship me.”

10Jesus said to him, “Away from me, Satan! For it is written: ‘Worship the Lord your God, and serve him only.’”

11Then the devil left him, and angels came and attended him.

COMMENTARY

1 Jesus’ three temptations tie into his baptism, not only by the references to sonship and the Spirit, but by the opening “Then” (tote). Jesus’ attestation as the Son (3:17) furnishes “the natural occasion for such special temptations as are here depicted” (Broadus). The same Spirit who engendered Jesus (1:20) and attested the Father’s acknowledgment of his sonship (3:16–17) now leads him into the desert to be tempted by the devil. The “desert” (see

The devil must not be reduced to impersonal “forces” behind racism and pogroms (Schweizer). The Greek word diabolos (GK 1333) strictly means “slanderer,” but the term is the regular LXX rendering of “Satan” (e.g., 1Ch 21:1; Job 1:6–12; 2:1–7; Zec 3:1–2), the chief opposer of God, the archenemy who leads all the spiritual hosts of darkness (cf. Ge 3; Jn 8:37–44; 2Co 11:3; 12:7; Rev 12:3–9; 20:1–4, 7–10).

That Jesus should be led “by the Spirit” to be tempted “by the devil” is no stranger than Job 1:6–2:7 or 2 Samuel 24:1 (1Ch 21:1). Recognizing that “to tempt” (peirazō, GK 4279) also means “to test” in a good or bad sense somewhat eases the problem. In Scripture, “tempting” or “testing” can reveal or develop character (Ge 22:1; Ex 20:20; Jn 6:6; 2Co 13:5; Rev 2:2) as well as solicit to evil (1Co 7:5; 1Th 3:5). For us to “tempt” or “test” God is wrong because it reflects unbelief or attempted bribery (Ex 17:2, 7 [Ps 95:9]; Dt 6:16 [Mt 4:7]; Isa 7:12; Ac 5:9; 15:10). Moreover God uses means and may bring good out of his agents’ evil motives—see Joseph’s experience (Ge 50:19–20). In Jesus’ “temptations” God clearly purposed to test him just as Israel was tested, and Jesus’ responses prove that he understood. Each of the temptations is replete with allusions to OT events and to a variety of themes within Matthew (cf. Clarke, Gospel of Matthew and Its Readers, 44–48; Blomberg, “Matthew,” in CNTUOT).

2 The parallels with historic Israel continue. Jesus’ fast (doubtless total abstention from food but not from drink; cf. Lk 4:2) of forty days and nights reflected Israel’s forty-year wandering (Dt 8:2). Both Israel’s and Jesus’ hunger taught a lesson (Dt 8:3); both spent time in the desert preparatory to their respective tasks. The main point is that both “sons” were tested by God’s design (Dt 8:3, 5; cf. Ex 4:22; Gerhardsson, Testing of God’s Son, 19–35), the one after being redeemed from Egypt and the other after his baptism, to prove their obedience and loyalty in preparation for their appointed work. The one “son” failed but pointed to the “Son” who would never fail (see

At the same time, Jesus’ hunger introduces us to a number of ironies to which Matthew more or less explicitly alludes: Jesus is hungry (v.2) but feeds others (14:13–21; 15:29–39); he grows weary (8:24) but offers others rest (11:28); he is the King Messiah but pays tribute (17:24–27); he is called the devil but casts out demons (12:22–32); he dies the death of a sinner but comes to save his people from their sins (1:21); he is sold for thirty pieces of silver but gives his life as a ransom for many (20:28); he will not turn stones to bread for himself (4:3–4) but gives his own body as bread for people (26:26).

3–4 The tempter came to Jesus—we cannot say in what form—and referred to Jesus’ sonship. The form of the “if” clause in Greek (ei + indicative) does not so much challenge his sonship as assume it to build a doubtful imperative. Satan is not inviting Jesus to doubt his sonship but to reflect on its meaning. Sonship of the living God, he suggests, surely means Jesus has the power and right to satisfy his own needs.

Jesus’ response is based solely on Scripture: “It is written” (v.4). The Scripture is Deuteronomy 8:3, following the LXX, which reads “every word” instead of a more ambiguous Hebrew expression (unless the non-LXX reading of D is adopted: cf. Gundry, Use of the Old Testament, 67), and it applies initially to Israel. But the statement itself is an aphorism. Even though “man” (ho anthrōpos) can specify old Israel (e.g., Ps 80:17), yet it is always true that everyone must recognize his utter dependence on God’s word. Jesus’ food is to do the will of his Father who sent him (Jn 4:34).

The point of each temptation must be determined by closely examining both the temptation and Jesus’ response. This clearly shows that this first temptation was no simple incitement to use improper means of making bread (Morison), nor an attempt to use a miracle to prove to himself that he was really God’s Son (Robinson, Twelve New Testament Studies, 55–56), nor to act alone without thought of others (H. Riesenfeld, The Gospel Tradition [Philadelphia: Fortress, 1970], 87–88); it was a temptation to use his sonship in a way inconsistent with his God-ordained mission. The same taunt, “If you are the Son of God,” is hurled at him in 27:40, when for him to have left the cross would have annulled the purpose of his coming. Similarly, though Jesus could have gained the aid of legions of angels, how then could the Scriptures that say Jesus had to suffer and die have been fulfilled (26:53–54)? Israel’s hunger had been intended to show them that hearing and obeying the word of God is the most important thing in life (Dt 8:2–3). Likewise, Jesus learned obedience through suffering as a son in God’s house (Heb 3:5–6; 5:7–8). More necessary than bread for Jesus was obedience to God’s word.

In the light of these parallels, we must conclude that Satan’s aim was to entice Jesus to use powers that were rightly his but which he had voluntarily abandoned to carry out the Father’s mission. Reclaiming them for himself would deny the self-abasement implicit in his mission and in the Father’s will. Israel demanded its bread but died in the wilderness; Jesus denied himself bread, retained his righteousness, and lived by faithful submission to God’s word. (There may be an allusion to Hab 2:4; cf. J. Andrew Kirk, “The Messianic Role of Jesus and the Temptation Narrative,” EvQ 44 [1972]: 11–29, 91–102.)

5–7 The second temptation (Luke’s third) is set in the “holy city,” Jerusalem (cf. Ne 11:1; Isa 48:2; Da 9:24; Mt 27:53), on the highest point of the temple complex (hieron probably refers to the entire complex, not the sanctuary itself, which Jesus, not being a Levite, would not have approached; but see ). Josephus (Ant. 15.412 [11.5]) testifies to the enormous height from the structure’s top to the ravine’s bottom. Late Jewish midrash says that Messiah would prove himself by leaping from the temple pinnacle; but apart from its lateness, it mentions no spectators. So it is unlikely that this was a temptation for Jesus to prove himself to the people as a new “David” who will again rid Jerusalem of the “Jebusites” (i.e., Romans—contra Kirk, “Messianic Role,” 91–95).

Satan quoted Psalm 91:11–12 (v.6) from the LXX, omitting the words “to guard you in all your ways.” The omission itself does not prove he handled the Scriptures deceitfully (contra Walvoord), since the quotation is well within the range of common NT citation patterns. Satan’s deceit lay in misapplying his quotation into a temptation that easily traps the devout mind by apparently warranting what might otherwise be thought sinful. Psalm 91:11–12 refers to anyone who trusts God and thus preeminently to Jesus. The angels will lift such a person up in their hands like a nurse a baby (cf. Nu 11:12; Dt 1:31; Isa 49:22; Heb 1:14). At the temple, the place where God has particularly manifested himself, Jesus is tempted to test his sonship (“If you are the Son of God”) against God’s pledge to protect his own. Deuteronomy 6:16 was Jesus’ reply.

Jesus’ hesitation came not from wondering whether he or his Father could command the normal forces of nature (cf. 8:26; 14:31) but because Scripture forbids putting God to the test (v.7). The reference alludes to Exodus 17:2–7 (cf. Nu 20:1–13), where the Israelites “put the Lord to the test” by demanding water. So Jesus was tempted by Satan to test God, but Jesus recognized Satan’s testing as a sort of manipulative bribery expressly forbidden in the Scriptures (cf. Robinson, Twelve New Testament Studies, 54–56). For both Israel and Jesus, demanding miraculous protection as proof of God’s care was wrong; the appropriate attitude is trust and obedience (Dt 6:17). We see, then, something of Jesus’ handling of Scripture. His “also” shows he would not allow any interpretation that generates what he knew would contradict another passage.

8–10 The “very high mountain” (v.8) does not seem much more than a prop for the vision of the world’s kingdoms (see

Satan offers the kingdoms of the world and their “splendor” without showing their sin. Jesus, however, came to remove sin. Here was a temptation “to achieve power by worship of God’s rival” (France, Jesus and the Old Testament, 52), a shortcut to fullest messianic authority. Satan was offering an interpretation of the theocratic ideal that sidestepped the cross and introduced idolatry. At Jesus’ baptism, the Voice spoke words that united Davidic messiahship and suffering servanthood (see

Jesus recognized that Satan’s suggestion entailed depriving God of his exclusive claim to worship. Neither God’s “son” Israel nor God’s “Son” Jesus may swerve from undivided allegiance to God himself (v.10; cf. Ex 23:20–33; Dt 6:13; see McNeile, Bonnard). So Jesus responded with a third “it is written” and banished Satan from his presence. The time would come when Jesus’ expanding kingdom would progressively destroy the kingdom Satan had to offer (12:25–28; cf. Lk 10:18). The day still lies ahead when King Messiah’s last enemy is destroyed (1Co 15:25–26). But Jesus achieves it all without compromising his filial submission to the Father.

In other words, Jesus had in mind from the very beginning of his earthly ministry the combination of royal kingship and suffering servanthood attested at his baptism and essential to his mission. Moreover, the twin themes of kingly authority and filial submission, developed so clearly in the fourth gospel (cf. Carson, Divine Sovereignty, 146–62), are already present as the complementary poles of the life and self-revelation of Immanuel: “God with us.”

11 The devil left Jesus “until an opportune time” (Lk 4:13). Though the conflict has barely begun, the pattern of obedience and trust has been established. He has learned to resist the devil (cf. Jas 4:7). The angelic help is not some passing blessing but a sustained one (the imperfect tense is probably significant). Jesus had refused to relieve his hunger by miraculously turning stones to bread; now he is fed supernaturally (diēkonoun, “attended,” GK 1354, is often used in connection with food; e.g., Mt 8:15; 25:44; 27:55; Ac 6:2; cf. Elijah in 1Ki 19:6–7). He had refused to throw himself off the temple heights in the hope of angelic help; now angels feed him. He had refused to take a shortcut to inherit the kingdom of the world; now he fulfills Scripture by beginning his ministry and announcing the kingdom in Galilee of the Gentiles (vv.12–17).

NOTES

1–11 The question of the impeccability of Christ is much discussed in older literature but is of doubtful concern to Matthew in this pericope. The problem is partly definitional. To say Christ could not sin does not resolve the nature of the impossibility, and many writers have said he could not sin because he would not (cf. Trench, Studies in the Gospels, 25–30). But at a deeper level, the problem concerns the truth of the incarnation and how to formulate it. The NT documents affirm both Jesus’ deity and his humanity, and neither of these affirmations may be permitted to deny the complementary truth. One might argue that Christ’s impeccability is a function of his deity but must not be taken to mitigate his humanity, and Christ’s temptability is a function of his humanity but must not be taken to mitigate his deity.

2 The aorist participle νηστεύσας (nēsteusas, “after fasting”) does not prove the hunger began only after the forty days were over, since an aorist participle sometimes indicates action coordinate with the main verb. Luke’s more explicit statement has been pushed too hard by some scholars. Luke is saying that Jesus’ hunger was caused by the forty-day fast, not that the hunger began then. There is little exegetical warrant for appealing to the supernatural here.

12When Jesus heard that John had been put in prison, he returned to Galilee. 13Leaving Nazareth, he went and lived in Capernaum, which was by the lake in the area of Zebulun and Naphtali—14to fulfill what was said through the prophet Isaiah:

15“Land of Zebulun and land of Naphtali,

the way to the sea, along the Jordan,

Galilee of the Gentiles—

16the people living in darkness

have seen a great light;

on those living in the land of the shadow of death

a light has dawned.”

17From that time on Jesus began to preach, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is near.”

COMMENTARY

12 John the Baptist’s imprisonment appears to have prompted Jesus to return (see Notes) to Galilee. Though Mark 1:14–15 likewise links the two events, it is saying too much to conclude that Matthew has so strengthened the language to make John’s imprisonment the cause of Jesus’ withdrawal (akousas more likely means “when he heard” than “because he heard”). Equally important is the fact that the language suggests that Jesus remained for some time in Judea—unless we suppose the Baptist’s arrest immediately followed Jesus’ baptism. The Synoptics make no mention of Jesus’ early Judean ministry but imply that his ministry began in Galilee. By contrast, the fourth gospel seems to presuppose an earlier Galilean ministry (Jn 1:19–2:12), a Judean ministry that overlapped with that of the Baptist (Jn 2:13–3:21), and then a return to the north via Samaria (Jn 3:22–4:42). The Johannine chronology has often been dismissed as of little historical worth. Yet there are hints even in the Synoptic Gospels that presuppose an early Judean ministry (e.g., Lk 10:38), one such hint being the delay implicit in this verse.

If this approach is valid, we must ask why the synoptists eliminate Jesus’ earliest months of ministry. Several reasons are possible.

1. With the Baptist’s removal from the scene, Jesus’ ministry entered a new phase. The function of the forerunner was over; the one to whom he pointed had come. This transfer might be neatly indicated by beginning the account of Jesus’ ministry from the time of John’s imprisonment. (Compare years of intercalation among OT kings and their varied treatment by OT writers.)

2. By contrast, when the fourth gospel was written, the explicit connection between the Baptist and Jesus may have been of more urgent interest if the writer was responding to organized groups of the Baptist’s followers (cf. Ac 19:1–4). The synoptists do not seem to be under such pressure.

3. In Matthew, Galilee is of profound significance because it heralds the fulfillment of prophecy (vv.14–16) and points to the gospel’s extension to “all nations” (28:19).

According to 1 Maccabees 5:23, the Jewish population in Galilee in 164 BC was so small it could be transported to Judea for protection. By Jesus’ day, however, though the large population was mixed, owing to both the proximity of Gentile peoples in surrounding areas and the importation of colonists during the Maccabean conquest, the Jewish population was substantial. The many theories concerning the influence of this region on Jesus and thence on Christianity have been neatly summarized and criticized by L. Goppelt (Christentum und Judentum [Gütersloh: Bertelsmann, 1954] 32–41); debates continue today (e.g., Mark A. Chancey, The Myth of a Gentile Galilee [Cambridge: Cambridge Univ. Press, 2002]). “Galilee” as referring to some part of the northern district has long roots (cf. Jos 20:7; 1Ki 9:11; 2Ki 15:29).

13 In Luke, Jesus’ move from Nazareth to Capernaum (Lk 4:31) follows the violent reaction of the Nazareth townspeople (vv.16–30), and it is uncertain whether Matthew’s account (13:54–58) reports the same incident or another one. Capernaum (“village of Nahum”?) lay a little north of the plain of Gennesaret (14:34), on the northwest shore of Lake Galilee. Tell Hum marks the site today, its synagogue ruins dating from the second century. The village enjoyed a fishing industry that probably demanded the presence of a tax collector’s booth (9:9). Here, too, was Peter’s house (8:14; cf. Mk 1:29; 2:1). But Matthew is interested in pointing out Capernaum’s location with reference to the ancient tribal allotments of Zebulun and Naphtali as showing the minute correspondence with the prophecy cited in vv.15–16.

14–16 Jesus’ move fulfilled (v.14; see Notes) Isaiah 9:1–2. This prophecy is part of a large structure looking to Immanuel’s coming (see

The point of the quotation is clear enough. In despised Galilee, the place where people live in darkness (i.e., without the religious and cultic advantages of Jerusalem and Judea), the land of the shadow of death (i.e., where the darkness is most dense; cf. Job 10:21; Ps 107:10; Jer 13:16; Am 5:8), here the light has dawned (v.16). “Dawned” (aneteilen, GK 422) suggests that the light first shone brilliantly here, not that it was shining brightly elsewhere and then moved here (Lindars, New Testament Apologetic, 198). This was God’s prophesied plan. Matthew is not interested in the mere fact that some prophecy was fulfilled in Galilee but in this particular prophecy: from of old the Messiah was promised to “Galilee of the Gentiles” (Galilaia tōn ethnōn), a foreshadowing of the commission to “all nations” (panta ta ethnē, 28:19). Moreover, if the messianic light dawns on the darkest places, then Messiah’s salvation can only be a bestowal of grace—namely, that Jesus came to call not the righteous but sinners (9:13).

17 Several have argued that the words “from that time on” (apo tote), found only here and in 16:21; 26:16, mark major turning points in this gospel (Stonehouse, Witness of Matthew, 129–31; Kingsbury, Structure). In its strong form, this theory divides Matthew into three sections (1:1–4:16; 4:17–16:20; 16:21–28:20) with important interpretive implications. Though there are good reasons for rejecting this structure (see Introduction, ), the phrase “from that time on” nevertheless marks an important turning point because it ties something new to what has just preceded it.

We best see this when we examine the content of Jesus’ preaching. Assuming the soundness of the text preserved in the NIV (see Notes), the burden of Jesus’ preaching so far is, in itself, identical to that of John the Baptist: “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is near” (v.17; cf. 3:2). Matthew often shows ties between Jesus and John the Baptist (Klostermann; Chilton, God in Strength, 117; Dale C. Allison Jr., “The Continuity between Jesus and John,” JSHJ 1 [2003): 6–27). But when John the Baptist says these words, they are placed in an OT context that highlights his function as the forerunner who looks forward to the Messiah and his kingdom (3:2–12); when Jesus says the same words, they are linked by “from that time” with an OT context that insists Jesus fulfills the promises of a light rising to shine on the Gentiles (Schweizer; cf. Wood, “Regathering of the People of God”).

The longstanding debate that largely discounted C. H. Dodd’s theory (that “is near” [3:2; 4:17] equals “has come” [12:28]) rather misses the mark. Neither Dodd nor his critics are subtle enough. The kingdom (see

NOTES

12 The verb ἀνεχώρησεν (anechōrēsen, “returned,” GK 432) is characteristic of Matthew (2:12, 13, 14, 22; 4:12; 12:15; 14:13; 15:21; 27:5). Only in 9:24 does Jesus use it; elsewhere in the NT it occurs only in Mark 3:7; Jn 6:15; Ac 23:19; 26:31. On the basis of Matthew’s usage, Hill, following Fenton, suggests the verb means Jesus withdrew strategically—i.e., that the rejection of God’s word in one place (here in John’s ministry) leads to its proclamation in another place (in Jesus’ ministry). But this meaning is possible only in 12:15; 14:13; 15:21; it is impossible in most of the other occurrences in Matthew. More commonly Jesus “withdraws” because of threats or plots. That he then preaches elsewhere is a consequence of his withdrawal for safety’s sake, not a sign of judgment on a people who will not hear.

14 The dash separating vv.13 and 14 (NIV) rightly interprets the ἵνα (hina, “in order to”) as referring to Jesus’ move rather than Jesus’ motive. In other words, judging by his usage elsewhere (e.g., 1:22; 2:15), Matthew is not saying that Jesus moved in order to fulfill Scripture but that his move fulfilled Scripture.

15 The words ὁδὸν θαλάσσης (hodon thalassēs, “the way to the sea”) are in LXX Isaiah 8:23 and may well be a literal rendering of the Hebrew (derek hayyām), “seawards”; i.e., “by the sea” (cf. NIV, “by the way of the sea,” Isa 9:1) rather than the “way to the sea” (cf. Turner, Syntax, 247). The translation “along the Jordan” for πέραν τοῦ ᾽Ιορδάνου (peran tou Iordanou) reflects the fact that Zebulun and Naphtali do not extend east of the Jordan. But linguistically the phrase must mean “beyond the Jordan.” Normally “beyond the Jordan” refers to the east bank, but the vantage of the speaker must be borne in mind, and sometimes it refers to the west bank (e.g., Nu 32:19; Dt 11:30; Jos 5:1; 22:7). The Hebrew is more naturally translated “beyond Jordan.” Most likely, Isaiah sees the Assyrians coming from the northeast; as they progressively inflict judgment on the nation, they proceed “beyond the Jordan” to the west bank. So Matthew’s rendering may simply preserve the same stance—in which case, is there a further reference to the “exile” now ended by Messiah’s coming (see

16 Αὐτοῖς (autois, “on them”) is redundant after τοῖς καθημένοις (tois kathēmenois, lit., “on those sitting [NIV, ‘living’]”); but, though not unknown in classical Greek, this technique is common in Hebrew (cf. BDF, para. 466 [4]).

17 The reading omitting μετανοεῖτε (metanoeite, “repent”) and γάρ (gar, “for”) is not well attested but is treated seriously because of the possibility of assimilation to 3:2. Nevertheless, the longer text stands (cf. Chilton, God in Strength, 302–10; Fee, “Modern Text Criticism,” 164–65).

OVERVIEW

Since no temporal expression links this pericope with the last one, there may have been some time lapse. Bultmann’s skepticism (History of the Synoptic Tradition, 28) about the historical worth of these verses is unwarranted (cf. Hill).

The relation of the various “callings” of the disciples in the gospel records is obscure. If we take John 1:35–51 as historical, Simon, Andrew, Philip, and Nathanael first followed Jesus at an earlier date. On returning to Galilee, they again took up their normal work. This is inherently plausible. The disciples’ commitment and understanding advanced by degrees. Even after the resurrection, they returned once more to their fishing (Jn 21). Here (Mt 4:20) an earlier commitment may explain their haste in following Jesus. If the miracle of Luke 5:1–11 occurred the night before Matthew 4:18–22 (Mk 1:16–20), that would be another reason for their immediate response to Jesus. In this connection, the meaning of katartizontas (“preparing,” v.21, GK 2936; see

18As Jesus was walking beside the Sea of Galilee, he saw two brothers, Simon called Peter and his brother Andrew. They were casting a net into the lake, for they were fishermen. 19“Come, follow me,” Jesus said, “and I will make you fishers of men.” 20At once they left their nets and followed him.

21Going on from there, he saw two other brothers, James son of Zebedee and his brother John. They were in a boat with their father Zebedee, preparing their nets. Jesus called them, 22and immediately they left the boat and their father and followed him.

COMMENTARY

18 In Hebrew, “sea,” like the German See, can refer to lakes. Classical Greek prefers not to use thalassa (GK 2498 or thalatta—“sea”) for lakes, and Luke follows the same pattern by using limnē (“lake”), though Matthew, Mark, and John prefer “sea.” The Sea of Galilee (named from the district), otherwise known as the “Lake of Gennesaret” (the name “Kinnereth” [Nu 34:11; Jos 12:3] comes from a plain on its northwest shore; cf. Mt 14:34), or the “Sea of Tiberias” (a city Herod built on the southwest shore: Jn 6:1; 21:1), is 12¼ by 8¾ miles at the longest and broadest points respectively. Its surface is 682 feet below sea level. It is subject to violent squalls. In Jesus’ day, it supported flourishing fisheries. On its west shore were nine towns, and “Bethsaida” may be freely translated “Fishtown.” Simon and his brother Andrew came from Bethsaida (Jn 1:44), though Capernaum was now their home (Mk 1:21, 29).

Simon, Matthew says, was “called Peter”; but he does not tell us how Peter received this name (cf. 10:2; 16:18; Mk 3:16; Lk 6:14). While uncertainties remain, what is quite certain is that kêpā ʾ (“rock,” “stone”), the Aramaic equivalent of “Peter,” was already an accepted name in Jesus’ day (cf. Joseph A. Fitzmyer, “Aramaic Kepha’ and Peter’s Name in the New Testament,” in Text and Interpretation [ed. Best and Wilson], 121–32)—a fact that has an important bearing on the interpretation of Matthew 16:17–18.

Simon and Andrew were casting a “net” (amphiblēstron, a NT hapax legomenon [found only once], with a cognate at Mk 1:16). It refers to a circular “casting net” and is not to be confused with the more generic term diktua in v.20.

19–20 Greek has several expressions for “follow me” (cf. 10:38; Lk 9:23; 14:27), but they all presuppose a physical “following” during Jesus’ ministry. His “followers” were not just “hearers”; they actually followed their Master around (as students then did) and became, as it were, trainees. The metaphor “fishers of men” glances back to the work of the two being called. It may also be reminiscent of Jeremiah 16:16. There Yahweh sends “fishermen” to gather his people for the exile; here Jesus sends “fishermen” to announce the end of the exile (see

On the prompt obedience of Simon and Andrew (v.20), see

21–22 This second pair of brothers were “preparing their nets” (v.21), which sounds as if they were just setting out. The verb katartizō (GK 2936), however, connotes “mend” or “restore to a former condition.” So James and John may have been making repairs after a night’s fishing (cf. Lk 5:1–11 and its possible place in the chronology). Fenton notes that Paul uses katartizō for perfecting the church (1Co 1:10; 2Co 13:11) and sees here an allusion to pastoral ministry. But this is fanciful because the verb is not a technical term. The boat (ploion [GK 4450] was used of all kinds of boats) was big enough for several men (Mk 1:20). Mark’s remark that hired men were left with Zebedee when his sons followed Jesus reminds us that we must not exaggerate the ignorance and poverty of Jesus’ first followers. While they were not trained scribes or rabbis, they were not illiterate, stupid, or destitute. Indeed, Peter’s protest in 19:27 implies that many or all of the Twelve had given up much to follow Jesus.

Jesus took the initiative and “called” James and John. In the Synoptics, unlike Paul’s epistles, Jesus’ call is not necessarily effectual. But in this instance it was immediately obeyed.

OVERVIEW

Summaries are common to narrative literature; but the one before us, with its parallel in 9:35–38, has distinctive features.

1. It does not just summarize what has gone before but shows the geographical extent and varied activity of Jesus’ ministry.

2. It therefore sets the stage for the particular discourses and stories that follow and implies that the material presented is but a representative sampling of what was available.

3. It is not a mere chronicle but conveys theological substance. Thus it is easy to detect different emphases between this summary and 9:35–38 (see

Older commentators see in vv.23–25 a first circuit of Galilee and in 9:35–38 a second one. This is possible, but both pericopes may refer to the constant ministry of Jesus rather than to tightly defined circuits.

23Jesus went throughout Galilee, teaching in their synagogues, preaching the good news of the kingdom, and healing every disease and sickness among the people. 24News about him spread all over Syria, and people brought to him all who were ill with various diseases, those suffering severe pain, the demon-possessed, those having seizures, and the paralyzed, and he healed them. 25Large crowds from Galilee, the Decapolis, Jerusalem, Judea and the region across the Jordan followed him.

COMMENTARY

23 Jesus’ ministry included teaching, preaching, and healing. Galilee, the district covered, is small (approximately seventy by forty miles), but according to Josephus (Life 235 [45]; J.W. 3.41–43 [3.2]), writing one generation later, Galilee had 204 cities and villages, each with no fewer than fifteen thousand persons. Even if this figure refers only to the walled cities and not to the villages (which is not what Josephus says), a most conservative estimate points to a large population, even if less than Josephus’s three million. At the rate of two villages or towns per day, three months would be required to visit all of them, with no time off for the Sabbath. Jesus “went around doing good” (Ac 10:38; cf. Mk 1:39; 6:6). The sheer physical drain must have been enormous. Above all, we must recognize that Jesus was an itinerant preacher and teacher, who necessarily repeated approximately the same material again and again and faced the same problems, illnesses, and needs again and again.

The connection between “teaching” and “synagogue” recurs at 9:35; 13:54. A visiting Jew might well be asked to teach in the local synagogue (cf. Moore, Judaism, 1:281–307; Illustrated Bible Dictionary [ed. Douglas], 3:1499–1503) as part of regular worship (e.g., Lk 4:16). The word “their” may indicate a time when the synagogue and the church had divided. On the other hand, it may simply indicate that the author and his readers viewed these events from outside Galilee (see

The message Jesus preaches is the “good news [euangelion, “gospel,” GK 2295] of the kingdom.” The term recurs in 9:35; 24:14, and becomes “this gospel” in 26:13. “Of the kingdom” is an objective genitive. The “good news” concerns the kingdom (see Notes), whose “nearness” has already been announced (3:2; 4:17) and which is the central subject of the Sermon on the Mount (chs. 5–7). Mark prefers “the gospel” or “the gospel of Christ” or “the gospel of God” (Mk 1:1, 14; 8:35; 10:29; 13:10); but the difference between these expressions and “gospel of the kingdom” is one of connotation, not denotation, since the “good news” concerns God and the inbreaking of his saving reign in the person of his Son the Messiah.

The healings of various diseases among the people further attest the kingdom’s presence and advance (cf. 11:2–6; Isa 35:5–6). Walvoord, 39, relegates these “kingdom blessings ... due for fulfillment in the future kingdom” to the status of mere “credentials of the King”; but if the kingdom blessings are present, then the kingdom too must have broken in, even if not yet in the splendor of its consummation (cf. Rev 21:3–5).

24 The geographical extent of “Syria” is uncertain. From the perspective of Jesus in Galilee, Syria was to the north. From the Roman viewpoint, Syria was a Roman province embracing all of Palestine (cf. Lk 2:2; Ac 15:23, 41; Gal 1:21), Galilee excepted, since it was under the independent administration of Herod Antipas at this time. The term “Syria” reflects the extent of the excitement aroused by Jesus’ ministry. If the Roman use of the term is here presumed, it shows his effect on people far beyond the borders of Israel. Those “ill with various diseases” and “those suffering severe pain” are divided into three overlapping categories: (1) the demon-possessed (cf. Mt 8:28–34; 12:22–29); (2) those having seizures—namely, any kind of insanity or irrational behavior whether or not related to demon-possession (17:14–18; on selēniazomenous [“epileptics,” GK 4944], which etymologically refers to the “moonstruck” [i.e., “lunatic”], cf. NIDNTT, 3:734; J. M. Ross, “Epileptic or Moonstruck?” BT 29 [1978]: 126–28); and (3) the paralyzed, whose condition also had various causes.

In the NT, sickness may result directly from a particular sin (e.g., Jn 5:14; 1Co 11:30) or may not (e.g., Jn 9:2–3). But both Scripture and Jewish tradition take sickness as resulting directly or indirectly from living in a fallen world (see

25 Jesus’ reputation at this point extended far beyond Galilee, even though that is where the light “dawned” (v.16). Two of the named areas, the region across the Jordan (east bank? see

NOTES

23 Further evidence that “preaching the good news of the kingdom” requires taking “of the kingdom” as an objective genitive is suggested by comparing the Greek κηρύσσων τὸ εὐαγγέλιον τῆς βασιλείας (kēryssōn to euangelion tēs basileias, “preaching the good news of the kingdom”) with the expression found in Luke 8:1: εὐαγγελιζόμενος τὴν βασιλείαν (euangelizomenos tēn basileian, “proclaiming the good news of the kingdom”), in which “kingdom” is the direct object.

24 The strange expression τοὺς κακῶς ἔχοντας (tous kakōs echontas; NIV, “[those] ill”) is idiomatic (found elsewhere in the NT at 8:16; 9:12; 14:35; Mk 1:32; 2:17; 6:55; Lk 5:31). The only other strictly comparable constructions in the NT are in Acts 24:25; 1 Timothy 5:25; 1 Peter 4:5.

OVERVIEW

The Sermon on the Mount is the first of five major discourses in the gospel of Matthew. All five follow blocks of narrative material; all five end with the same formula (see

A useful starting point is Warren S. Kissinger’s The Sermon on the Mount: A History of Interpretation and Bibliography (Metuchen, N.J.: Scarecrow, 1975). The bibliographies in the major recent commentaries on Matthew (esp. France [NICNT], Keener, Luz, Nolland, Turner) offer a surfeit of literature. To this must be added the Hermeneia commentary devoted exclusively to the Sermon on the Mount (Betz). K. Beyschlag (“Zur Geschichte der Bergpredigt in der Alten Kirche,” ZTK 74 [1977]: 291–322) and Robert M. Grant (“The Sermon on the Mount in Early Christianity,” Semeia 12 [1978]: 215–31) unfold the treatment of these chapters in the earliest centuries of Christianity. For clarification of the varied treatment of the sermon during the twentieth century, we are indebted to Ursula Berner (Die Bergpredigt: Rezeption und Auslegung im 20. Jahrhundert [Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1979]). Popular expositions of use to the working preacher include Carson, Sermon on the Mount; D. Martyn Lloyd-Jones, Studies in the Sermon on the Mount (2 vols.; London: InterVarsity, 1959–60); F. B. Meyer, The Sermon on the Mount (repr., Grand Rapids: Baker, 1959); Stott, Message of the Sermon on the Mount.

Four introductory matters demand comment:

1. Unity and authenticity of the discourse. Since the work of Hans Windisch (The Meaning of the Sermon on the Mount [repr., Philadelphia: Fortress, 1951]), few have regarded Matthew 5–7 as thoroughly authentic. The most common proposal today is that these chapters preserve some authentic teaching of Jesus, originally presented at various occasions and collected and shaped by oral tradition. To this the evangelist has added church teaching, taught, perhaps, by an inspired prophet speaking for the exalted Christ; and the discourse has then been further molded by catechetical and liturgical considerations (so, e.g., J. Jeremias, The Sermon on the Mount [Philadelphia: Fortress, 1963]; see the magisterial study by Davies, Setting). According to these critics, at best the so-called Sermon on the Mount preserves no more than isolated sayings of Jesus.

Much of one’s judgment in these matters depends on conclusions as to source, form, and redaction criticism (see Introduction, ). For instance, if one insists that every saying elsewhere in the Gospels similar to any saying in Matthew 5–7 must be traced back to one utterance only (thus ignoring Jesus’ role as an itinerant preacher), one may develop a more or less plausible theory of the growth of oral tradition in each case (so, e.g., H. T. Wrege, Die Überlieferungsgeschichte der Bergpredigt [WUNT 9; Tübingen: Mohr, 1968]). This can be done precisely because so many sayings in these chapters do occur elsewhere, either in roughly similar or in identical language (see

There is no need to repeat introductory remarks about authenticity. Several observations will, however, focus the approach adopted here.

a. We cannot make much out of Matthew’s clear tendency to treat his material topically. Nor can we conclude from his grouping of miracles that he has composed his discourses out of grouped but independent sayings. In the former case, Matthew does not pretend to do otherwise, whereas in all his discourses he gives the impression, especially in his concluding formulas (7:28–29; 11:1; 13:53; 19:1; 26:1), that the material is not only authentic but delivered on one occasion.

b. We dare not claim too much on the basis of the unity or its lack in the discourses. Even if the Sermon on the Mount represents material Jesus delivered on one occasion, perhaps over several days, its extreme compression, necessary selection, and problems of translation from Aramaic to Greek (assuming Jesus preached in Aramaic) might all unite to break the flow. If the unity of the discourse is defended (e.g., by Austin Farrer, St. Matthew and St. Mark [2nd ed.; London: Dacre, 1966], but cf. Davies, Setting, 9–13), that unity might be nothing more than the evangelist’s editing. He must have seen some coherence in these chapters to leave them in this form. Thus neither unity nor disunity is a sufficient criterion for the authenticity of a brief account of extensive discourse.

c. We must suppose that Jesus preached the same thing repeatedly (see

d. Jesus himself was a master teacher. In his sayings, whose authenticity is not greatly disputed, there is evidence of structure, contrast, and assonance. So when some scholars tell us that Matthew’s account has more structure (perhaps from catechetical influence) than the other Synoptics, is this a sign of greater nearness to or distance from Jesus? What criteria are there for distinguishing the two possibilities? Surely if we do not pretend to be able to retrieve all the ipsissima verba of Jesus but only his ipsissima vox (see Notes, 3:17), most of the common criteria for testing authenticity evaporate.

e. The assumptions of some form critics make their work more questionable than they think. For if a certain kind of saying tends to take on a certain form in oral tradition and if the period of oral transmission is long enough to develop that form, then the repetition of the saying on half a dozen different occasions in slightly different words would ultimately lead to one common form of the saying. Thus, far from enabling the critic to trace a precise development, form criticism obliterates the richness of the tradition attested by the evangelists themselves.

f. As Matthew’s gospel stands, we must weigh two disparate pieces of evidence: (1) that all five of Matthew’s discourses are bracketed by introductory and concluding remarks that cannot fail to give the impression that he presents his discourses as not only authentic but delivered by Jesus on the specified occasions and (2) that many individual bits of each discourse find synoptic parallels in other settings. Many think the second point to be so strong that they conclude that Matthew himself composed the discourses. Conservative writers in this camp say that all of Jesus’ sayings are authentic but that Matthew brought them together in their present form. Therefore the first piece of evidence has to be reinterpreted—i.e., the introductory and concluding notes framing each of Matthew’s discourses are seen as artistic compositional devices.

A more subtle approach is to say that Jesus actually did deliver a discourse on each of the five occasions specified but that not all of the material Matthew records is from that occasion. In other words, the evangelist has added certain “footnotes” of his own, at a time when orthography was much more flexible and there were no convenient ways to indicate what he was doing. While either of these reconstructions is possible, each faces two steep hurdles: (1) the introductory and concluding brackets around the five discourses do not belong to any clear first-century pattern or genre that would show the reader they are merely artistic devices and not the real settings they manifestly claim to be; and (2) it is remarkable that each conclusion sweeps together all the sayings of the preceding discourse under some such rubric as “when Jesus had finished saying these things” (a possible exception is 11:1). That the introductory and concluding formulas were not recognizable as artistic devices is confirmed by the fact that for the first millennium and a half or so of its existence, the church recognized them as concrete settings. (This is not a surreptitious appeal to return to precritical thinking but a note on the recognizability of a literary genre.)

In view of the above, it seems the wiser course to believe Matthew intended to present real, historical settings for his discourses; and the parallels found elsewhere, though they must be considered individually, do not seem to present insurmountable problems. While many sayings in the Gospels appear in “loose” or “floating” settings, where an evangelist ostensibly specifies the context, the authenticity of that context must be assumed. This is particularly easy to maintain in Matthew if the date and authorship are as stated in the Introduction (). Thus this commentary takes Matthew’s settings seriously. Not that it takes all the discourses as verbatim accounts or unedited reports of Jesus’ teaching; it rather assumes they are condensed notes, largely in Matthew’s idiom, selected and presented in accord with his own concerns. But behind them stand the voice and authority of Jesus.

2. Relation to the Sermon on the Plain (Lk 6:20–49). Augustine claimed that Matthew 5–7 and the passage in Luke are two separate discourses, and almost all writers agreed with him until the Reformation. Even after it, some scholars followed Augustine (e.g., Alexander, Plumptre), and today some are returning to Augustine’s view.

Origen, Chrysostom, Calvin, and the majority of recent scholars, however, defend the view (often with appropriate theorizing about Q) that the two accounts represent the same discourse. This has much to commend it. The two sermons begin with beatitudes and end with the same simile. Nearly everything in the Sermon on the Plain is in some form in the Sermon on the Mount and often in identical order. Both are immediately followed by the same events—namely, entrance into Capernaum and healing the centurion’s servant. (The point is valid even if it indicates nothing more than a common link in the tradition.) Luke’s sermon is much shorter and has its own thematic emphases (e.g., humility); and much of the extra material in Matthew is scattered elsewhere in Luke, especially in his “travel narrative” (Lk 9:51–18:14; discussed at Mt 19:1–2). Moreover, Matthew speaks of a mountain, Luke a plain; and Luke’s discourse follows the choosing of the Twelve, which does not take place in Matthew until ch. 10.

But these problems can be readily solved.

a. Much of what Luke omits, mostly in Matthew 5:17–37; 6:1–18, is exactly the sort of material that would interest Matthew’s Jewish readers more than Luke’s readers. Luke has also omitted some material from his “Sermon on the Plain” that he has placed elsewhere (Mt 6:25–34; Lk 12:22–31). It is possible that Jesus gave the sermon more than once. Alternatively, Luke’s context is so loose that he may have been responsible for the topical rearrangement. In any case, to insist that a writer must include everything he knows or everything in his sources is poor methodology. In the other Matthean discourses, Matthew includes much, and Luke includes less; in the Sermon on the Mount, though Matthew’s account is much longer than Luke’s, in certain places Luke preserves a little more than Matthew (cf. Mt 5:12 with Lk 6:23–26; Mt 5:47 with Lk 6:33–35).

b. Of the several solutions to the mountain or plain, the most convincing one takes Matthew’s “on a mountainside” to mean “up in the hills” and Luke’s “plain” as being some kind of plateau. The linguistic evidence is convincing (see Notes, 5:1).

c. Luke’s order, placing the sermon after the choosing of the Twelve, is historically believable. But Matthew is clearly topical in his order. Connectives at 5:1; 8:1; 9:35; 11:2; 12:1; 14:1 et al. are loose; his favorite word “then” is general in meaning (see Notes, 2:7). It is unlikely that Matthew intends his readers to think that the Sermon on the Mount succeeded Jesus’ circuit (4:23–25). Rather, this sermon was preached during that circuit. Moreover, some of Matthew’s reasons for placing it here instead of after 10:1–4 are apparent (see below under 4). It seems best, then, to take Matthew 5–7 and Luke 6:20–49 as separate reports of the same occasion, each dependent on some shared tradition (Q?), but not exclusively so. Space limitations prevent tracing all the likely connections; but some attention will be given selected critical problems within this overall approach.

d. Judgment about the relationship between the Sermon on the Mount and Luke’s Sermon on the Plain is inevitably tied to a number of complex issues surrounding the Synoptic Problem. Hans Dieter Betz’s magisterial commentary on the Sermon on the Mount is extraordinarily valuable for the richness of its material on the history of interpretation and for many possible links with the Greco-Roman world. Nevertheless, Betz’s hypothesis that Matthew has simply taken over the entire sermon from Q without adapting it, which accounts not only for differences between this sermon and Luke’s Sermon on the Plain but also for ostensible differences between the Sermon on the Mount and the rest of Matthew, has been repeatedly criticized (see Gundry, The Old Is Better [WUNT 178; Tübingen: Mohr, 2005], ch. 3). The Jesus Betz finds in the Sermon on the Mount aligns nicely with universalizing tendencies in the ill-defined phenomenon of religion—or, as Gundry puts it, Jesus becomes “something of a Jewish liberal” (p. 148).

3. Theological structure and affinities. Whatever its sources and manner of compilation, the inclusion of the Sermon on the Mount in Matthew must be significant. Some have noted its similarities to Jewish thought. G. Friedlander’s classic work, The Jewish Sources of the Sermon on the Mount (New York: Ktav, 1911), shows that virtually all the statements in Matthew 5–7 can be paralleled in the Talmud or other Jewish sources. Of course this is right, but it is a little like saying that the parts of a fine automobile can be found in a vast warehouse. Read any fifty pages of the Babylonian Talmud and compare them with Matthew 5–7, and it becomes obvious they are not saying the same things. Sigal (Halakhah of Jesus) argues that the forms of argument in Matthew 5–7 fit into well-accepted patterns of the early rabbis (“proto-rabbis”); Gary A. Tuttle (“The Sermon on the Mount: Its Wisdom Affinities and Their Relation to Its Structure,” JETS 20 [1977]: 213–30) draws attention to connections with the forms of argument in wisdom literature. Both are too restrictive. Rabbinic and wisdom argumentation overlap much more than is commonly acknowledged, and Jesus and Matthew echo both. Even more, they must be interpreted first of all in their own right. Far more impressive is Martin Hengel’s demonstration of a primarily Jewish background to the Sermon on the Mount, without attempting to determine too narrowly the precise profile of that background (“Zur matthäischen Bergpredigt und ihrem jüdischen Hintergrund,” ThR 52 [1987]: 327–400).

The attempt to understand the Sermon on the Mount within a unified theological grid has not produced consistent results. Schweizer lists seven major interpretive approaches; Harvey K. McArthur (Understanding the Sermon on the Mount [New York: Harper, 1960], 105–48) lists twelve. Some of the most important are as follows:

a. Lutheran orthodoxy often understands the Sermon on the Mount as an exposition of law designed to drive people to cry for grace. This is Pauline (Ro 3–4; Gal 3), and grace is certainly presupposed in the sermon (e.g., see

b. Some have argued that Jesus’ eschatology is so “realized” that the ethic of the Sermon on the Mount is a sort of moral road map toward social progress. Fewer scholars adopt this stance today than once was the case, though on the street it is still remarkably powerful. Many who have never read these chapters, still less Matthew’s gospel, identify the Sermon on the Mount with turning the other cheek and not judging others, but they have no idea how to integrate such themes with, say, 7:21–23. Nor can the classic liberal vision be integrated with apocalyptic elements in Jesus’ teaching (e.g., ch. 24) or with the vision of a suffering and witnessing community (ch. 10).

c. The sermon is often interpreted as a set of moral standards used catechetically within Matthew’s community. While that may be so if there was a Matthean community (though increasingly today, people are coming round to the view that Matthew’s gospel was written for all Christians, not for a closed community), this view is reductionistic. It fails to wrestle adequately with Matthew’s location in salvation history. The entire book of Matthew presents itself as Jesus’ teaching and ministry before the church was called into existence in the full, post-Pentecost sense. This gospel does not present itself as the catechesis of a church but as a theological portrayal of the one who fulfilled Scripture and introduced the end times.

d. The Anabaptist-Mennonite tradition interprets the ethical demands to apply to all believers in every age and every circumstance (see Stanley Hauerwas, Matthew [Brazos Theological Commentary on the Bible; Grand Rapids: Brazos, 2006], 61). The resulting philosophy of pacifism in the context of a power-loving world demands the conclusion that Christians should not seek to be involved in affairs of state. This tradition rightly perceives the separate status of the believing community, which must not be confused with the world (e.g., 7:13–14, 21–23). But it is insensitive to the place of this sermon in the progress of redemption and absolutizes some of its teaching in a way incompatible with its context and with other Scripture (see

e. Existential interpretation finds in these chapters a summons to personal decision and authentic faith but jettisons the personal and infinite God who makes the summons. Also, by denying the uniqueness of the Jesus who delivers the sermon, it fails to cope with its fulfillment theme and its implications.

f. Still others claim that Jesus is advocating an “interim ethic” to remain in force until the soon-expected consummation. But Jesus, they assume, erred as to the timing of this event, so the “interim ethic” must be toned down accordingly. All this rests on a view of Jesus derived from other passages (not least chs. 24–25 and parallels).

g. It is common among evangelicals and others to interpret the Sermon on the Mount as an intensifying or radicalizing of OT moral law (e.g., Stott, Messsage of the Sermon on the Mount). But this depends largely on a doubtful interpretation of 5:17–20 (see below).

h. Classic dispensationalism interprets the Sermon on the Mount as law for the millennial kingdom first offered by Jesus to the Jews. This has faced so many objections (e.g., Can any age be justly described as “millennial” that requires “laws” to govern face slapping?) that the approach has been qualified. J. Dwight Pentecost (“The Purpose of the Sermon on the Mount,” BSac 115 [1958]: 128ff., 212ff., 313ff.) and John Walvoord take the ethical content of the sermon to be binding on any age but continue to drive a wedge between these chapters and the Christian gospel by pointing out that they do not mention the cross, justification by faith, new birth, etc. On that basis, the epistle of James is also non-Christian! Moreover, they misinterpret Matthew’s fulfillment motif and impose a theological structure on this gospel demanding improbable exegesis of numerous passages (occasionally identified in this commentary). The disjunction between Matthew 5–7 and the Christian gospel is theologically and historically artificial.

This sketch overlooks many variations of the principal interpretations of the Sermon on the Mount. Several scholars have narrowed the focus: C. Burchard (“The Theme of the Sermon on the Mount,” in Essays on the Love Commandment [ed. Schottroff et al.], 57–75) understands chs. 5–7 to provide rules of conduct for the Matthean church in the light of opposition to its witness; G. Bornkamm (“Der Aufbau der Bergpredigt,” NTS 24 [1977–78]: 419–32) interprets the sermon around the Lord’s Prayer (6:9–13). A debate that is sometimes tied to one or another of the theological approaches just listed concerns possible affinities between Jesus and Moses (see discussion in Keener). Some see the tightest possible affinities; others remain unconvinced, preferring a nuanced judgment like that of Garland: “While Matthew presents Jesus as Moses-like, he does not depict him as a new Moses, but as the Lord, the son of God.” Though these and other interpretive grids highlight neglected themes, they overlook the thrust of the sermon as a whole and its place in Matthew.

The unifying theme of the sermon is the kingdom of heaven (see

4. Location in Matthew. Unlike Luke, Matthew does not place the sermon after the calling of the Twelve (10:1–4); there he puts a second discourse, one concerning mission. This links the call with the commission, a theme of great importance to Matthew (see

1Now when he saw the crowds, he went up on a mountainside and sat down. His disciples came to him, 2and he began to teach them, saying:

COMMENTARY

1 The “crowds” are those referred to in 4:23–25. Here Jesus stands at the height of his popularity. Although his ministry touched the masses, he saw the need to teach his “disciples” (mathētai, GK 3412) closely. The word “disciple” must not be restricted to the Twelve, whom Matthew has yet to mention (10:1–4). Nor is it a special word for full-fledged believers, since it can also describe John the Baptist’s followers (11:2). In the Lukan parallel, we are told of a “large crowd of his disciples” as well as “a great number of people” (6:17). This goes well with Matthew 4:25, which says large crowds “followed” Jesus. Those who especially want to attach themselves to him, Jesus takes aside to instruct; but it is anachronistic to suppose that all are fully committed in the later “Christian” sense of Acts 11:26 (cf. Mt 7:13–14, 21–23). Matthew sees the disciples as paradigms for believers in his own day but never loses sight, as we shall repeatedly notice, of the unique historical place of the first followers (contra U. Luz, “Die Jünger im Matthäusevangelium,” ZNW 62 [1971]: 141–71—though Luz wisely avoids reducing Matthew’s disciples to the Twelve). On the importance of the theme of discipleship in this gospel, see Martin H. Franzmann, Follow Me: Discipleship according to Saint Matthew [St. Louis, Mo.: Concordia, 1961]).

At this point in his ministry, Jesus could not escape the mounting crowds; and by the end of his sermon (7:28–29), he was surrounded by even larger crowds. This suggests that his teaching covered several days, not just an hour or two (cf. the three-day meeting, 15:29–39). The place of retreat Jesus chose was in the hill country (see Notes, v.1), not “on a mountainside.” He “sat down” to teach. Sitting was the accepted posture of synagogue or school teachers (Lk 4:20; cf. Mt 13:2; 23:2; 24:3; see NIDNTT, 3:588–89). The attempt of Lachs (“Textual Observations,” 99–101) to find an anachronism here fails because his sources refer to the position of one who is learning Torah, not teaching it. Luke has Jesus standing (6:17) but ministering to the larger crowd from which he could not escape (6:17–19).

2 The NIV masks the idiom “he opened his mouth and taught them,” found elsewhere in the NT (13:35; Ac 10:34; 18:14) and reflecting OT roots (Job 3:1; 33:2; Da 10:16). It is used in solemn or revelatory contexts. The verb “teach” (edidasken) is imperfect and inceptive: “He began to teach them.” Contrary to Davies (Setting, 7–8), one must not draw too sharp a distinction between preaching (kēryssō, GK 3062, Mt 4:17) and teaching (didaskō, GK 1438: see

NOTES

1 The NIV’s “on a mountainside” renders εἰς τὸ ὄρος (eis to oros). The article does not suggest some well-known mountain (contra Hendriksen; Turner, Syntax, 173), still less the mountain where Moses received the law (contra Loisy). Even Davies (Setting, 93), after exploring all possibilities, concedes Matthew could have more explicitly delineated a “new Moses” theme. In fact, τὸ ὄρος, to oros (lit., “the mountain,” GK 4001) and the corresponding Hebrew and Aramaic may mean nothing more than “the mountain region” or “the hill country.” Jesus withdrew to the hill country west of Lake Galilee—the text requires nothing more. Attempts to discern profound symbolic significance (e.g., Gundry) are misguided. Moreover πεδινός (pedinos, “plain” or “a level place”) in Luke 6:17, a NT hapax legomenon, should not conjure up images of American prairie but a relatively flat place in rough, rocky, or hilly terrain—perhaps “plateau” (cf. usage in Jer 21:13 LXX [“rocky plateau” in the NIV], or in Isa 13:2 LXX—ἐπ᾽ ὄρους πεδινοῦ [ep’ orous pedinou, lit., “on a level (flat) mountain”; NIV, “on a bare hilltop”]). There is little difference between Matthew’s “mountain” and Luke’s “plain.”

OVERVIEW

The beatitudes (Lat. beatus, “blessed”), otherwise called macarisms (from Gr. makarios, “blessed,” GK 3421), have been the subject of many valuable studies, the most detailed being J. Dupont’s Les Béatitudes (3 vols.; 2nd ed.; Paris: Gabalda, 1969). As to form, beatitudes find their roots in Wisdom literature and especially the psalms (for the best discussion of the OT background, see W. Zimmerli, “Die Seligpreisungen der Bergpredigt und das Alte Testament,” in Donum Gentilicium [ed. E. Bammel et al.; Oxford: Clarendon, 1978], 8–26; cf. Pss 1:1; 31:1–2; 144:15; Pr 3:13; Da 12:12). OT beatitudes never bunch more than two together (e.g., Ps 84:4–5; elsewhere, cf. Sir 25:7–9).

Comparison of 5:3–12 with Luke 6:20–26 shows that, along with smaller differences, the four Lukan beatitudes stand beside four woes—all in the second person. But Matthew mentions no woes, and his eight beatitudes (Mt 5:3–10) are in the third person, followed by an expansion of the last one in the second person (vv.11–12). Pre-NT beatitudes are only rarely in the second person (e.g., 1 En. 58:2) and occur with woes only in the Greek text of Ecclesiastes 10:16–17; so on formal grounds there is no reason to see Matthew’s beatitudes as late adaptations.

No doubt both Matthew and Luke selected and shaped their material. But though this results in differences in the thrust of the two sets of beatitudes, such differences are often overstated (e.g., C. H. Dodd, More New Testament Studies [Manchester: Manchester Univ. Press, 1968], 7–8). Dupont (Les Béatitudes) and Marshall (Gospel of Luke) argue that Luke describes what disciples actually are, Matthew what they ought to be; Luke, the social implications of Jesus’ teaching and reversals at the consummation, Matthew, the standards of Christian righteousness to be pursued now for entrance into the kingdom. Similarly, G. Strecker (“Les macarismes du discours sur la montagne,” in L’Évangile selon Matthieu [ed. Didier], 185–208) insists that in Matthew’s beatitudes ethics has displaced eschatology: the beatitudes become ethical entrance requirements rather than eschatological blessings associated with the messianic age.

A more nuanced interpretation is presented by R. A. Guelich (“The Matthean Beatitudes: ‘Entrance-Requirements’ or Eschatological Blessings?” JBL 95 [1973]: 415–34). He notes that Matthew 5:3–5 contains planned echoes of Isaiah 61:1–3, which is certainly eschatological in orientation. Moreover, both Isaiah 61:1–3 and the Matthean beatitudes are formally declarative but implicitly hortatory: one must not overlook function for form. The beatitudes “are but an expression of the fulfillment of Isaiah 61, the OT promise of the Heilszeit [‘time of salvation’], in the person and proclamation of Jesus. This handling of the beatitudes is certainly in keeping with Matthew’s emphasis throughout the gospel that Jesus comes in light of the OT promise” (p. 433). The implicit demands of the beatitudes are therefore comprehensible only because of the new state of affairs the proclamation of the kingdom initiates (4:17, 23), the insistence that Jesus has come to fulfill the Law and the Prophets (5:17). Gibbs insightfully remarks that these beatitudes constitute “a sort of ‘doorway’ through which Matthew’s readers/hearers must pass if they are to grasp aright the Lord’s great teaching in the Sermon.”

3“Blessed are the poor in spirit,

for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

4Blessed are those who mourn,

for they will be comforted.

5Blessed are the meek,

for they will inherit the earth.

6Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness,

for they will be filled.

7Blessed are the merciful,

for they will be shown mercy.

8Blessed are the pure in heart,

for they will see God.

9Blessed are the peacemakers,

for they will be called sons of God.

10Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness,

for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

COMMENTARY

3 Two words and their cognates stand behind “blessed” and “blessing” in the NT. The word used in vv.3–11 is makarios (GK 3421), which usually corresponds in the LXX to ʾašrê (GK 897), a Hebrew term used almost as an interjection: “Oh the blessednesses [pl.] of.” Usually makarios describes the person who is singularly favored by God and therefore in some sense “happy”; but the word can apply to God (1Ti 1:11; 6:15). The other word is eulogētos (GK 2329), found in the LXX primarily for Hebrew b^erākâ (GK 1388) and used chiefly in connection with God in both OT and NT (e.g., Mk 14:61; Lk 1:68; Ro 1:25; 2Co 1:3). Eulogētos does not occur in Matthew; but the cognate verb appears five times (Mt 14:19; 21:9; 23:39; 25:34; 26:26), in one of which it applies to man (25:34), not God or Christ. Attempts to make makarios mean “happy” and eulogētos “blessed” (Broadus) are therefore futile. Though both appear many times, both can apply to either God or man. It is difficult not to conclude that their common factor is approval: man “blesses” God, approving and praising him; God “blesses” man, approving him in gracious condescension. Applied to man, the OT words are certainly synonymous (cf. THAT, 1:356).

As for “happy” (TEV), it will not do for the beatitudes, having been devalued in modern usage. The Greek “describes a state not of inner feeling on the part of those to whom it is applied, but of blessedness from an ideal point of view in the judgment of others” (Allen). In the eschatological setting of Matthew, “blessed” can only promise eschatological blessing (cf. NIDNTT, 1:216–17; TDNT, 4:367–70); and each particular blessing is specified by the second clause of each beatitude.

The “poor in spirit” are the ones who are “blessed.” Since Luke speaks simply of “the poor,” many have concluded that he preserves the true teaching of the historical Jesus—concern for the economically destitute—while Matthew has “spiritualized” it by adding “in spirit.” The issue is not so simple. Already in the OT, “the poor” has religious overtones. The word ptōchos (“poor”—in classical Gr., “beggar,” GK 4777) has a different force in the LXX and NT. It translates several Hebrew words, most important (in the plural) ʿ^anāwîm (“the poor,” the plural of GK 6705; see also GK 6714), i.e., those who because of sustained economic privation and social distress have confidence only in God (e.g., Pss 37:14; 40:17; 69:28–29, 32–33; Pr 16:19 [NIV, “the oppressed”; NASB, “the lowly”]; 29:23; Isa 61:1; cf. Pss. Sol. 5:2, 11; 10:7). Thus it joins with passages affirming God’s favor on the lowly and contrite in spirit (e.g., Isa 57:15; 66:2). This does not mean there is lack of concern for the materially poor but that poverty itself is not the chief thing (cf. the prodigal son’s “self-made” poverty). Far from conferring spiritual advantage, wealth and privilege entail great spiritual peril (see

That this is the way to interpret v.3 is confirmed by similar expressions in the Dead Sea Scrolls (esp. 1QM 11:9; 14:6–7; 1QS 4:3; 1QH 5:22). “Poor” and “righteous” become almost equivalent in Sirach 13:17–21; CD 19:9; 4QpPs (37) 2:8–11 (cf. Schweizer; Bonnard; Dodd, “New Testament Translation Problems I,” 307–10). These parallels do not prove literary dependence, but they do show that Matthew’s “poor in spirit” rightly interprets Luke’s “poor” (cf. Gundry, Use of the Old Testament, 69–71). In rabbinic circles, too, meekness and poverty of spirit were highly praised (cf. Felix Böhl, “Die Demut als höchste der Tugenden,” BZ 20 [1976]: 217–23).

Yet biblical balance is easy to prostitute. The emperor Julian the Apostate (AD 332–63) is reputed to have said with vicious irony that he wanted to confiscate Christians’ property so that they might all become poor and enter the kingdom of heaven. On the other hand, the wealthy too easily dismiss Jesus’ teaching about poverty here and elsewhere (see

To be poor in spirit is not to lack courage but to acknowledge spiritual bankruptcy. It confesses one’s unworthiness before God and utter dependence on him. Therefore those who interpret the Sermon on the Mount as law and not gospel—whether by H. Windisch’s historical reconstructions (The Meaning of the Sermon on the Mount [Philadelphia: Westminster, 1951] or by classical dispensationalism (cf. Carson, Sermon on the Mount, 155–57), which calls the sermon “pure law” (though it concedes that its principles have a “beautiful moral application” for the Christian)—stumble at the first sentence (cf. Stott, Message of the Sermon on the Mount, 36–38). The kingdom of heaven is not given on the basis of race (cf. 3:9), earned merits, the military zeal and prowess of Zealots, or the wealth of a Zacchaeus. It is given to the poor, the despised publicans, the prostitutes, those who are so “poor” they know they can offer nothing and do not try. They cry for mercy, and they alone are heard.

These themes recur repeatedly in Matthew and present the sermon’s ethical demands in a setting that does not treat the resulting conduct as conditions for entrance to the kingdom that people themselves can achieve. All must begin by confessing that by themselves they can achieve nothing. Fuller disclosures of the gospel in the years beyond Jesus’ earthly ministry do not change this; in the last book of the canon, an established church must likewise recognize its precarious position when it claims to be rich and fails to see its own poverty (Rev 3:14–22).

The kingdom of heaven (see

While the rewards of vv.4–9 are future (“will be comforted,” “will inherit,” etc.), the first and last are present (“for theirs is the kingdom of heaven”). Yet one must not make too much of this, for the present tense can function as a future, and the future tense emphasizes expectation, not mere futurity. There is little doubt that here the kingdom sense is primarily future, postconsummation, made explicit in v.12. But the present tense “envelope” (vv.3, 10) should not be written off as insignificant or as masking an Aramaic original that did not specify present or future, for Matthew must have meant something when he chose estin (“is”) instead of estai (“will be”). The natural conclusion is that, though the full blessedness of those described in these beatitudes awaits the consummated kingdom, they already share in the kingdom’s blessedness so far as it has been inaugurated (see

4 Black (Aramaic Approach, 157) notes how the Matthean and Lukan (6:21b, 25b) forms of this beatitude could each have been part of a larger parallelism—an observation that goes nicely with the hypothesis that the Sermon on the Mount and the Sermon on the Plain are reports of one discourse, relying somewhat on common sources (see

Some commentators deny that this mourning is for sin (e.g., Bonnard). Others (e.g., Schweizer) understand it to be mourning for any kind of misery. The reality is subtler. The godly remnant of Jesus’ day weeps because of the humiliation of Israel, but they understand that it comes from personal and corporate sins. The psalmist testified, “Streams of tears flow from my eyes, for your law is not obeyed” (Ps 119:136; cf. Eze 9:4). When Jesus preached, “The kingdom of heaven is near,” he, like John the Baptist before him, expected not jubilation but contrite tears. It is not enough to acknowledge personal spiritual bankruptcy (Mt 5:3) with a cold heart. Weeping for sins can be deeply poignant (Ezr 10:6; Ps 51:4; Da 9:19–20) and can cover a global as well as personal view of sin and our participation in it. Paul understands these matters well (cf. Ro 7:24; 1Co 5:2; 2Co 12:21; Php 3:18).

“Comfort, comfort my people” (Isa 40:1) is God’s response. These first two beatitudes deliberately allude to the messianic blessing of Isaiah 61:1–3 (see Lk 4:16–19; cf. France, Jesus and the Old Testament, 134–35), confirming them as eschatological and messianic. The Messiah comes to bestow “the oil of gladness instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair” (Isa 61:3). But these blessings, already realized partially but fully only at the consummation (Rev 7:17), depend on a Messiah who comes to save his people from their sins (1:21; cf. 11:28–30). Those who claim to experience all its joys without tears mistake the nature of the kingdom. In Charles Wesley’s words:

He speaks, and listening to his voice,

New life the dead receive;

The mournful, broken hearts rejoice,

The humble poor believe.

5 This beatitude and those in vv.7–10 have no parallel in Luke. It would be wrong to suppose that Matthew’s beatitudes are for different groups of people or that we have the right to half the blessings if we determine to pursue four out of the eight. They are a unity and describe the norm for Messiah’s people.

The word “meek” (praus, GK 4558) is hard to define. It can signify absence of pretension (1Pe 3:4, 14–15) but generally suggests gentleness (cf. 11:29; Jas 3:13) and the self-control it entails. The attempt to understand a “meek” person to be nonviolent and law-observant (Michel Talbot, Heureux les doux, car ils hériteront la terre: (Mt 5:4 [5]) [Paris: Gabalda, 2002]) is unconvincing in its methods and doctrinaire in its conclusions. The Greeks extolled humility in wise men and rulers, but such humility smacked of condescension. In general, the Greeks considered meekness a vice because they failed to distinguish it from servility. To be meek toward others implies freedom from malice and a vengeful spirit. Jesus best exemplifies it (11:29; 21:5). Lloyd-Jones (Sermon on the Mount, 1:65–69) rightly applies meekness to our attitudes toward others. We may acknowledge our own bankruptcy (v.3) and mourn (v.4). But to respond with meekness when others tell us of our bankruptcy is far harder (cf. Stott, Message of the Sermon on the Mount, 43–44). Meekness, therefore, requires such a true view about ourselves as will express itself even in our attitude toward others.

And the meek—not the strong, aggressive, harsh, tyrannical—will inherit the earth. The verb “inherit” often relates to entrance into the promised land (e.g., Dt 4:1; 16:20; cf. Isa 57:13; 60:21). But the specific OT allusion here is Psalm 37:9, 11, 29, a psalm recognized as messianic in Jesus’ day (4QpPs 37). There is no need to interpret the land metaphorically, as having no reference to geography or space; nor is there need to restrict the meaning to “land of Israel” (see Notes). Entrance into the promised land ultimately became a pointer toward entrance into the new heaven and the new earth (“earth” is the same word as “land”; cf. Isa 66:22; Rev 21:1), the consummation of the messianic kingdom. While in Pauline terms, believers may now possess all things in principle (1Co 3:21–23; 2Co 6:10) since they belong to Christ, Matthew directs our attention yet further to the “renewal of all things” (19:28).

6 “Hunger and thirst” vividly express desire. The sons of Korah cried, “My soul thirsts for God, for the living God” (Ps 42:2; cf. 63:1). The deepest spiritual famine is hunger for the word of God (Am 8:11–14).

The precise nature of the righteousness for which the blessed hunger and thirst is disputed. Some argue that it is the imputed righteousness of God—eschatological salvation or, more narrowly, justification: the blessed hunger for it and receive it (e.g., Grundmann; McNeile; Zahn; Barth [“Matthew’s Understanding of the Law,” 123–24]; Bultmann [Theology of the New Testament, 1:273]; Schrenk [TDNT, 2:198]). This is certainly plausible, since the immediate context does arouse hopes for God’s eschatological action, and hungering suggests that the righteousness that satisfies will be given as a gift.

The chief objection is that dikaiosynē (“righteousness,” GK 1466) in Matthew does not have that sense anywhere else (cf. Przybylski, Righteousness in Matthew, 96–98). So it is better to take this righteousness as simultaneously personal righteousness (cf. Hill, Greek Words, 127–28.; Strecker, Weg der Gerechtigkeit, 156–58) and justice in the broadest sense (cf. Ridderbos, Coming of the Kingdom, 190–91; Turner). These people hunger and thirst, not only that they may be righteous (i.e., that they may wholly do God’s will from the heart), but that justice may be done everywhere. All unrighteousness grieves them and makes them homesick for the new heaven and new earth—the home of righteousness (2Pe 3:13). Satisfied with neither personal righteousness alone nor social justice alone, they cry for both. In short, they long for the advent of the messianic kingdom. What they taste now whets their appetites for more. Ultimately they will be satisfied (same verb as in 14:20; Php 4:12; Rev 19:21) without qualification only when the kingdom is consummated (see discussion in Gundry).

7 This beatitude is akin to Psalm 18:25 (reading “merciful” [ASV] instead of “faithful” [NIV]; following MT [v.26], not LXX [17:26]; cf. Pr 14:21). Mercy embraces both forgiveness for the guilty and compassion for the suffering and needy. No particular object of the demanded mercy is specified, because mercy is to be a function of Jesus’ disciples, not of the particular situation that calls it forth. The theme is common in Matthew (6:12–15; 9:13; 12:7; 18:33–34). The reward is not mercy shown by others but by God (cf. the saying preserved in 1 Clem. 13:2). This does not mean our mercy is the causal ground of God’s mercy but its occasional ground (see

8 Commentators are divided on “pure in heart.”

1. Some take it to mean inner moral purity as opposed to merely external piety or ceremonial cleanness. This is an important theme in Matthew and elsewhere in the Scriptures (e.g., Dt 10:16; 30:6; 1Sa 15:22; Pss 24:3–4 [to which there is direct allusion here]; 51:6, 10; Isa 1:10–17; Jer 4:4; 7:3–7; 9:25–26; Ro 2:9; 1Ti 1:5; 2Ti 2:22, cf. Mt 23:25–28).

2. Others take it to mean single-mindedness, a heart “free from the tyranny of a divided self” (Tasker; cf. Bonnard). Several of the passages just cited focus on freedom from deceit (Pss 24:4; 51:4–17; cf. Ge 50:5–6; Pr 22:11). This interpretation also prepares the way for Matthew 6:22. The “pure in heart” are thus “the utterly sincere.”

The dichotomy between these two options is a false one; it is impossible to have one without the other. The one who is single-minded in commitment to the kingdom and its righteousness (6:33) will also be inwardly pure. Inward sham, deceit, and moral filth cannot coexist with sincere devotion to Christ. Either way, this beatitude excoriates hypocrisy (see

9 Jesus’ concern in this beatitude is not with the peaceful but with the peacemakers. Peace is of constant concern in both Testaments (e.g., Pr 15:1; Isa 52:7; Lk 24:36; Ro 10:15; 12:18; 1Co 7:15; Eph 2:11–22; Heb 12:14; 1Pe 3:11). But as some of these and other passages show, the making of peace can itself have messianic overtones. The Promised Son is called the “Prince of Peace” (Isa 9:6); and Isaiah 52:7—“How beautiful on the mountains are the feet of those who bring good news, who proclaim peace, who bring good tidings, who proclaim salvation, who say to Zion, ‘Your God reigns!’”—linking as it does peace, salvation, and God’s reign, was interpreted messianically in the Judaism of Jesus’ day.

Jesus does not limit the peacemaking to only one kind, and neither will his disciples. In the light of the gospel, Jesus himself is the supreme peacemaker, making peace between God and man, and man and man. Our peacemaking will include the promulgation of that gospel. It must also extend to seeking all kinds of reconciliation. Instead of delighting in division, bitterness, strife, or some petty “divide and conquer” mentality, disciples of Jesus delight to make peace wherever possible. Making peace is not appeasement. The true model is God’s costly peacemaking (Eph 2:15–17; Col 1:20). Those who undertake this work are acknowledged as God’s sons. In the OT, Israel has the title “sons” (Dt 14:1; Hos 1:10; cf. Pss. Sol. 17:30; Wis 2:13–18). Now it belongs to the heirs of the kingdom, who, meek and poor in spirit, loving righteousness yet merciful, are especially equipped for peacemaking and so reflect something of their heavenly Father’s character. “There is no more godlike work to be done in this world than peacemaking” (Broadus). This beatitude must have been shocking to Zealots when Jesus preached it, when political passions were inflamed (Morison).

10 It is no accident that Jesus should pass from peacemaking to persecution, for the world enjoys its cherished hates and prejudices so much that the peacemaker is not always welcome. Opposition is a normal mark of being a disciple of Jesus, as normal as hungering for righteousness or being merciful (see Jn 15:18–25; Ac 14:22; 2Ti 3:12; 1Pe 4:13–14; cf. the woe in Lk 6:26). Lachs (“Textual Observations,” 101–3) cannot believe Christians were ever persecuted because of righteousness; so he repoints an alleged underlying Hebrew text to read “because of the Righteous One”—a reference to Jesus. But he underestimates how offensive genuine righteousness, “proper conduct before God” (Przybylski, Righteousness in Matthew, 99), really is (cf. Isa 51:7). The reward of these persecuted people is the same as the reward of the poor in spirit—namely, the kingdom of heaven, which terminates the inclusio (see

NOTES

3 Most scholars interpret τῷ πνεύματι (tō pneumati, “spirit”) as a dative of respect (e.g., Zerwick, Biblical Greek, para. 53), so that the phrase πτωχοὶ τῷ πνεύματι (ptōchoi tō pneumati) means, literally, “poor with respect to the spirit.” Moule (Idiom Book, 46) wonders whether it might not border on an instrumental usage, which can often best be rendered by an English adverb, i.e., οἱ πτωχοὶ τῷ πνεύματι (hoi ptōchoi tō pneumati) = “the poor used in its spiritual [i.e., religious] sense,” over against “the literally [i.e., materially] poor” of James 2:5. But he acknowledges that Psalm 34:18 points in another direction.

5 The word γῆ (gē, “land,” GK 1178) occurs forty-three times in Matthew—once for the land of Judah (2:6); twice for the land of Israel (2:20–21); several times for some region (e.g., 4:15; 9:26, 31; 11:24; and possibly 27:45); several times in the expression “heaven and earth” or something similar (5:18, 35; 11:25; 24:35; 28:18); several times to distinguish earth from heaven (6:10; 9:6; 16:19; 18:18 [2x], 19; 23:9); once to refer to the place where sinful people live (5:13); several times to refer to “ground” (e.g., 10:29; 15:35; 25:18, 25; 27:51), “soil” (13:5, 8, 23), or “shore” (14:24); and several times to refer to the whole earth without any of the above connotations (12:40, 42; 17:25; 23:35; 24:30). In Matthew, therefore, γῆ, gē, is used to refer to a specified region or nation (Israel, Judah, Zebulon, Naphtali, et al.) only if that region’s name is given. The possible exception is 27:45. The most natural way to render this notice in v.5 is therefore “earth,” not “land [of Israel].”

9 Although “son of” can have ontological force, it often means “one who reflects the character of” or the like. Hence a “son of Belial” (= “son of worthlessness”) refers to a worthless person, someone of worthless conduct. Similarly “son of God” may have ontological or purely functional force, depending on the context.

10 The perfect passive participle οἱ δεδιωγμένοι (hoi dediōgmenoi, “those who are persecuted,” GK 1503) is rather awkward if the traditional perfect force is retained: “those who have been persecuted.” Many see this as a sign of anachronism—persecution had broken out by the time Matthew wrote (e.g., Hill). Some older commentators treat it as a more or less Hebraizing “prophetic” perfect; and Broadus adds that the perfect accords “with the fact that the chief rewards of such sufferers do not so much attend on the persecution as follow it.” But then we may ask why a future perfect isn’t used, or why the same rule isn’t applied to those who mourn (v.4). It is better, under verbal aspect theory, to recognize that the semantic force of the perfect is stative.

11“Blessed are you when people insult you, persecute you and falsely say all kinds of evil against you because of me. 12Rejoice and be glad, because great is your reward in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you.”

COMMENTARY

11–12 These two verses (cf. Lk 6:22–23, 26), switching from third person to second, apply the force of the last beatitude (v.10), not to the church (which would be anachronistic), but to Jesus’ disciples. Doubtless Matthew and his contemporaries also applied it to themselves. Verse 11 extends the persecution of v.10 to include insult and slander (Lk 6:22–23 adds hate). The reason for the persecution in v.10 is “because of righteousness”; now, Jesus says, it is “because of me.” “This confirms that the righteousness of life that is in view is in imitation of Jesus. Simultaneously, it so identifies the disciple of Jesus with the practice of Jesus’ righteousness that there is no place for professed allegiance to Jesus that is not full of righteousness” (Carson, Sermon on the Mount, 28). Moreover, it is an implicit christological claim, for the prophets to whom the disciples are likened were persecuted for their faithfulness to God and the disciples for faithfulness to Jesus. Not Jesus but the disciples are likened to the prophets. Jesus places himself on a par with God. The change from “the Son of Man” (Luke) to “me” is probably Matthew’s clarification (see

The appropriate response of the disciple is rejoicing. The second verb, agalliasthe (“be glad,” GK 22), Hill takes to be “something of a technical term for joy in persecution and martyrdom” (cf. 1Pe 1:6, 8; 4:13; Rev 19:7). Yet its range of associations seems broader (Lk 1:47; 10:21; Jn 5:35; 8:56; Ac 2:26; 16:34). The disciples of Jesus are to rejoice under persecution because their heavenly reward (see Notes, v.12) will be great at the consummation of the kingdom (v.12). Opposition is sure, for the disciples are aligning themselves with the OT prophets who were persecuted before them (e.g., 2Ch 24:21; Ne 9:26; Jer 20:2; cf. Mt 21:35; 23:32–37; Ac 7:52; 1Th 2:15). This biblical perspective was doubtless part of the historical basis on which Jesus built his own implied prediction that his followers would be persecuted. Treated seriously, it makes ineffective the ground on which some treat the prediction as anachronistic (e.g., Hare, Theme of Jewish Persecution, 114–21). Stendahl’s suggestion (“Matthew,” in Peake’s Commentary) that Matthew here refers to Christian prophets is not only needlessly anachronistic but out of step with both Matthew’s use of “prophet” and his link between the murder of “prophets” and the sin of the “forefathers” (23:30–32), which shows that the prophets belong to the OT period.

These verses neither encourage seeking persecution nor permit retreating from it, sulking, or retaliation. From the perspective of both redemptive history (“the prophets”) and eternity (“reward in heaven”), these verses constitute the reasonable response of faith, one which the early Christians readily understood (cf. Ac 5:41; 2Co 4:17; 1Pe 1:6–9; cf. Da 3:24–25). “Discipleship means allegiance to the suffering Christ, and it is therefore not at all surprising that Christians should be called on to suffer. In fact it is a joy and a token of his grace” (Bonhoeffer, Cost of Discipleship, 80–81). But in reassuring his disciples that their sufferings are “neither new, nor accidental, nor absurd” (Bonnard), Jesus spoke of principles that will appear again (esp. Mt 10, 24).

NOTES

11 Matthew’s “falsely say all kinds of evil against you” (cf. Ac 28:21) is an explanation of a Hebrew or Aramaic idiom still preserved in Luke’s “reject your name as evil” (Lk 6:22; cf. Dt 22:14, 19). The word ψευδόμενοι (pseudomenoi, “falsely,” GK 6017), given a C in UBS⁴, is implied, whether original or not. External evidence strongly favors inclusion; the internal evidence is equivocal.

12 Morton Smith, Tannaitic Parallels to the Gospels (Philadelphia: SBL, 1951), 46–77, 161–84, represents those who hold that the concept of reward in the Synoptic Gospels does not differ materially from the concept of reward in early rabbinic literature. His work is essentially a word study and overlooks the substantial conceptual differences; nor does he mention the balanced treatment of A. Marmorstein, The Doctrine of Merits in the Old Rabbinical Literature (London: Jesus’ College, 1920). The book by E. P. Sanders (Paul and Palestinian Judaism [London: SCM Press, 1977]) rightly warns against reading late Jewish traditions, steeped in merit theology, back into the NT period; but he seriously oversteps the evidence when he sees no difference at all, on the grace-merit front, between Paul and the “covenantal nomism” of Judaism (cf. Carson, Divine Sovereignty, ch. 8). C. S. Lewis (They Asked for a Paper [London: Geoffrey Bles, 1962], 198) rightly distinguishes various kinds of rewards. A man who marries a woman for her money is “rewarded” by her money, but he is rightly judged mercenary because the reward is not naturally linked with love. On the other hand, marriage is the proper reward of an honest and true lover; and he is not mercenary for desiring it because love and marriage are naturally linked. “The proper rewards are not simply tacked on to the activity for which they are given, but are the activity itself in consummation” (p. 198). The rewards of the NT belong largely to this second category. Life lived under kingdom norms is naturally linked with the bliss of life in the consummated kingdom. Talk of “merit” or of “earning” the reward betrays lack of understanding of Jesus’ meaning (see

13“You are the salt of the earth. But if the salt loses its saltiness, how can it be made salty again? It is no longer good for anything, except to be thrown out and trampled by men.”

COMMENTARY

13 Salt and light are such common substances (cf. Pliny, Nat. 31.102: “Nothing is more useful than salt and sunshine”) that they doubtless generated many sayings. Therefore it is improper to attempt a tradition history of all gospel references as if one original stood behind the lot (cf. Mk 4:21; 9:50; Lk 8:16; 11:33; 14:34–35). Equally, the suggestion that Jesus is referring to the “covenant of salt” (Lev 2:13; Nu 18:19; 2Ch 13:5) seems unlikely. Where that expression shows up in the OT, it seems to be connected with the permanence or stability of God’s covenant with his people. Here, however, Jesus says that his disciples are “salt.” There is no mention of covenant, and, far from symbolizing stability, the salt of which Jesus speaks loses its effectiveness.

The reality is that “salt” is not a technical word with only one set of associations. It can even be connected with judgment (Lot’s wife is turned into a pillar of salt, Ge 19:26; one might ruin an enemy’s field by sowing it with salt, Jdg 9:45). Salt was used in the ancient world to flavor foods and even in small doses as a fertilizer (cf. Eugene P. Deatrick, “Salt, Soil, Savor,” BA 25 [1962]: 44–45, who wants tēs gēs to read “for the soil,” not “of the earth”; but notice the parallel “of the world” in v.14). Sometimes the word is simply referring to a commodity (Ezr 6:9) or identifies a place (2Sa 8:13). Above all, salt was used as a preservative. Rubbed into meat, a little salt would slow decay. Strictly speaking, salt cannot lose its saltiness; sodium chloride is a stable compound. But most salt in the ancient world derived from salt marshes or the like rather than by evaporation of salt water, and therefore contained many impurities. The actual salt, being more soluble than the impurities, could be leached out, leaving a residue so dilute it was of little worth.

In modern Israel, savorless salt is still said to be scattered on the soil of flat roofs. This helps harden the soil and prevent leaks; and since the roofs serve as playgrounds and places for public gathering, the salt is still being trodden under foot (Deatrick, “Salt, Soil, Savor,” 47). This explanation negates the attempt by some (e.g., Lenski, Schniewind) to suppose that, precisely because pure salt cannot lose its savor, Jesus is saying that true disciples cannot lose their effectiveness. The question “How can it be made salty again?” is not meant to have an answer, as Schweizer rightly says. The rabbinic remark that what makes salt salty is “the afterbirth of a mule” (mules are sterile) rather misses the point (cf. Schweizer). The point is that if Jesus’ disciples are to act as a preservative in the world by conforming to kingdom norms, if they are “called to be a moral disinfectant in a world where moral standards are low, constantly changing, or nonexistent ..., they can discharge this function only if they themselves retain their virtue” (Tasker).

NOTES

13 The verb μωρανθῇ (mōranthē, “loses its saltiness,” GK 3701) is used four times in the NT. In Luke 14:34, it again relates to salt, but in Romans 1:22 and 1 Corinthians 1:20, it has its more common meaning “to make or become foolish” (cf. cognate μωρέ [mōre, “fool”] in v.22). It is hard not to conclude that disciples who lose their savor are in fact making fools of themselves. The Greek may hide an Aramaic (tpl, “foolish”) and (tbl, “salted”; see Black, Aramaic Approach, 166–67).

14“You are the light of the world. A city on a hill cannot be hidden. 15Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house. 16In the same way, let your light shine before men, that they may see your good deeds and praise your Father in heaven.”

COMMENTARY

14–15 As in v.13, “you” is emphatic—namely, You, my followers and none others, are the light of the world. Though the Jews saw themselves as the light of the world (Ro 2:19), the true light is the Suffering Servant (Isa 42:6; 49:6), fulfilled in Jesus himself (Mt 4:16; cf. Jn 8:12; 9:5; 12:35; 1 Jn 1:7). Derivatively, his disciples constitute the new light (cf. Eph 5:8–9; Php 2:15). Light is a universal religious symbol. In the OT as in the NT, it most frequently symbolizes purity as opposed to filth, truth or knowledge as opposed to error or ignorance, and divine revelation and presence as opposed to reprobation and abandonment by God.

The reference to the “city on a hill” is at one level fairly obvious. Often built of white limestone, ancient towns gleamed in the sun and could not easily be hidden. At night the inhabitants’ oil lamps would shed some glow over the surrounding area (cf. Bonnard). As such cities could not be hidden, so also it is unthinkable to light a lamp and hide it under a peck measure (v.15, NIV, “bowl”). A lamp is put on a lampstand to illuminate all. Attempts to identify “everyone in the house” as a reference to all Jews in contrast with Luke 11:33, referring to Gentiles (so Manson, Sayings of Jesus, 93), are probably guilty of making the metaphor run on all fours, especially in view of the Gentile theme so strongly present in Matthew.

But the “city on a hill” saying may also refer to OT prophecies about the time when Jerusalem or the mountain of the Lord’s house, or Zion, would be lifted up before the world, the nations streaming to it (e.g., Isa 2:2–5; cf. chs. 42, 49, 54, 60). This allusion has been defended by Grundmann, Trilling (Das wahre Israel, 142), and especially K. M. Campbell (“The New Jerusalem in Matthew 5.14,” SJT 31 [1978]: 335–63). It is not a certain allusion, and the absence of definite articles tells against it; if valid, it insists that Jesus’ disciples constitute the true locus of the people of God, the outpost of the consummated kingdom, and the means of witness to the world—all themes central to Matthew’s thought.

16 Jesus drives the metaphor home. What his disciples must show is their “good works,” i.e., all righteousness, everything they are and do that reflects the mind and will of God. And people must see this light. It may provoke persecution (vv.10–12), but that is no reason for hiding the light others may see and by which they may come to glorify the Father—the disciples’ only motive (cf. 2Co 4:6; 1Pe 2:12). Witness includes not just words but deeds; as Stier (Words of the Lord Jesus) remarks, “The good word without the good walk is of no avail.”

Thus the kingdom norms (vv.3–12) so work out in the lives of the kingdom’s heirs as to produce the kingdom witness (vv.13–16). If salt (v.13) exercises the negative function of delaying decay and warns disciples of the danger of compromise and conformity to the world, then light (vv.14–16) speaks positively of illuminating a sin-darkened world and warns against a withdrawal from the world that does not lead others to glorify the Father in heaven. “Flight into the invisible is a denial of the call. A community of Jesus which seeks to hide itself has ceased to follow him” (Bonhoeffer, Cost of Discipleship, 106).

NOTES

15 There are several probable Semitisms in this verse (cf. Hill). The μόδιος (modios, “bowl,” GK 3654) is a wooden grain measure, usually given as 8¾ liters, i.e., almost exactly one peck (see

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