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§22 The Great Commandment (Matt. 22:1–46)

The parable of the wedding feast (vv. 1–14) is regularly considered to be an allegorical revision of an earlier more straightforward parable told by Jesus. Fenton lists as allegorical elements that strike the reader as strange and unnatural the killing of those who brought the invitation (v. 6), the destruction of the guests (v. 7), and the burning of a city while a meal is waiting to be served (v. 7). These are “no doubt additions, made by the Church or the Evangelist” (p. 347). Beare notes that there are three versions: Matthew’s, which is a “fullblown allegory,” Luke’s (“a genuine parable”), and one in The Gospel of Thomas (pp. 432–34). Hill states that there can be no doubt that Matthew and Luke (14:16–24) present the same parable (p. 301), and Gundry holds that the “unrealistic features of the parable” are due to Matthew rather than to Jesus (p. 433). The issue is complicated by the fact that verses 11–14 seem to have been attached to this parable from another setting.

When one actually compares the accounts in Matthew and Luke, the differences are striking. Luke speaks of a “man” (rather than a king) who gives a “banquet” (not a marriage feast). Those invited give a series of excuses (in Matthew they make light of the invitation and go their separate ways), which causes the man to send out his servant (on two occasions) to compel the poor, maimed, blind, and lame of the city to come. The sending out of an army to kill those who refuse the invitation and the unit on the man without a wedding garment in Matthew have no parallel in Luke’s story. In fact, there is no indication in Luke that Jesus intended the account to be taken as a parable.

Jesus undoubtedly told his parables in many different settings. One of the distinct advantages of the parable is that its major truth may be applied in various contexts. Whether or not the parable as recounted in Matthew comes intact from the lips of Jesus will be judged differently by various scholars, depending upon their view of the nature of Gospel literature. Interpretations of the parable will vary accordingly. Hill admits that there are “quite significant differences between the two texts” (p. 301) but explains them as evidence of the freedom with which oral tradition interpreted the parables of Jesus. It is better to take the two accounts as separate but related narratives told on different occasions in order to illustrate or strengthen basic truths. It would be highly unlikely for Jesus to have told each of his parables on one occasion only. The so-called strange and unnatural additions appear as such only to those who would rewrite Scripture to match twentieth-century expectations. Allowed the full expression of Near Eastern hyperbole, they cause no particular exegetical problem.

22:1–10 / Jesus again spoke to the Jewish people by means of a parable (parabolais is plural and refers to the three parables in 21:28–22:14). The kingdom of heaven is like what happens when a king, who has prepared a wedding banquet for his son and sent out servants to those who had been invited, learns that the guests have refused to come. He becomes angry, sends out his army to punish those who did not come, and invites to the wedding feast all manner of people from the streets. One man dressed improperly is evicted, and Jesus concludes, “Many are invited, but few are chosen” (v. 14).

The kingdom of heaven is compared to a marriage feast again in 25:10. The same word is used in Revelation 19:7 (gamos) of the “wedding of the Lamb.” The figure of a marriage feast was widely used in ancient literature to portray the blessings of the life to come (e.g., Isa. 25:6ff.). This suggests that we are to interpret the parable in an eschatological setting. The servants who went out to those who had been invited represent God’s messengers in the days of Jesus. Those who had been invited, who refused to come, are the Jewish people who rejected the invitation of Jesus. Instead of joining the marriage festivities, they ignored what was going on and went about their normal lives as if nothing important were happening. Even though the king’s oxen and fattened cattle had been butchered (v. 4), one guest went “to his home in the country, another to his business” (Weymouth).

After sending his troops to kill those who spurned his invitation and to burn their city to the ground, the king sent his servants into the diexodoi (lit., “outlets”) tōn hodōn (probably where the streets cut through the city walls and out into the country) in order to invite to the banquet everyone they found (v. 9), both good and bad (v. 10). No particular point is being made.

22:11–13 / Verses 11–13 seem to have been added as a supplement from another setting. Since Matthew’s acknowledged style of composition is to gather into one place the teachings of Jesus on a specific topic, it would not be unusual for him to append to the first parable about a wedding feast additional teaching related to the same subject. Verses 1–10 stressed the Jewish resistance to the invitation of Jesus; verses 11–14 speak of one guest who came to the wedding feast improperly attired. Both deal with judgment, but the former deals with the judgment of the reluctant and the latter with the judgment of the impostor.

For the king to inspect his guests indicates God’s intention to pass judgment on professing disciples. One man was not wearing wedding clothes. He is addressed by the king as friend (hetairos), a term used only by Matthew in the New Testament and always of those whose actions run counter to what the term normally implies (cf. 20:13; 26:50). Only if this paragraph belonged with the preceding would there be any reason to wonder why a king who brought in people off the street now questions why they are not properly dressed. Wedding garments speak of the “new life of good works which is to follow the preaching of the gospel” (Fenton, p. 350). In a similar context, Revelation 19:8 interprets the fine linen worn by the bride of the Lamb as “the righteous acts of the saints.” The verses warn believers that without a changed life they will be rejected at the Last Judgment.

The improperly dressed man has no explanation (phimoō means “to put to silence,” from phimos, a muzzle) for his presence at the feast. So the king commands his servants to bind him hand and foot and throw him out into “the darkness farthest out” (BAGD, p. 280), where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth. Though the punishment seems severe, it is important to bear in mind that we are dealing with a culture quite different from ours and a literary style that must be interpreted as an expression of that culture.

22:14 / The two preceding paragraphs that make up this section describe the fate of those who reject God’s invitation (vv. 1–10) and those who respond to it but fail to meet the conditions (vv. 11–13). Verse 14 concludes the entire unit: Many are invited, but few are chosen. The invitation has gone out to all Israel, but only a few (those who accept and follow Jesus) are chosen. The chosen are those who demonstrate by works of righteousness the reality of their involvement in the kingdom. Stendahl says, “Man’s behavior indicates whether he is elect or not” (p. 791) To be chosen does not mean to be thrust into the kingdom apart from our decision and regardless of our conduct.

22:15–17 / The Pharisees went to discuss how they could trap Jesus in an argument (pagideuō, only here in the New Testament, is a hunting term meaning “to snare or trap”). They decide to send some of their disciples, along with the Herodians, to pose a controversial question about paying taxes to the Roman Emperor. Nothing is known of the Herodians apart from their mention here. Supposedly they were Jewish supporters of Herod Antipas and favored collaboration with their Roman overlords. Naturally, they would be quite unpopular with the masses. That the Pharisees would join forces with a group so distinct in their goals and orientation shows the extent to which opponents of Jesus would go in their efforts to eliminate him.

They begin with flattery. We know you are a man of integrity and teach the way of God in all sincerity. You don’t worry about what people think because you’re not concerned to gain their favor (v. 16). So tell us, Is it right to pay taxes to the Caesar or not? The dilemma they pose to Jesus is crystal clear. If he opposed paying the tax, he would be in trouble with the civil authorities. The Herodians would charge him with attempting to incite rebellion. If he approved paying the tax, he would lose his popularity with the people. It would appear that there was no way he could answer the question and not come out the loser.

The tax referred to was a poll tax levied on every person from the time of puberty until the age of sixty-five. It was paid to the Imperial Exchequer in Roman currency. The tax was resented by the Jewish populace, because it reminded them that they were subject to a foreign power that had seized their land and now exacted from them payment that went into the emperor’s coffers.

22:18–22 / Jesus, aware of his questioner’s malicious intent, named them for what they were, hypocrites. He asked to be shown the coin used for paying the tax. Then he asked, Whose portrait is this? And whose inscription? The denarius they brought was a Roman silver coin engraved with the head of the emperor and bearing religious claims offensive to the monotheistic faith of the conscientious Jew (the coins of Tiberius bore the inscription divus et pontifex maximus, “god and highest priest”). When his opponents answered that it was the face and name of the emperor that appeared on the coin, Jesus then said, Give to Caesar what is Caesar’s, and to God what is God’s. Apodidōmi (“give back”) carries the idea of paying back to someone that which is his or her due. The tax collected by the emperor was not a gift but a payment for benefit received. In approving payment of the tax, Jesus indicated his disapproval of the extreme attitude held by the Zealots. The act would show that a person could pay tax to a foreign dignitary who was accorded divine status by some without compromising the first two commandments.

The other part of the answer is that they are to give back to God what is God’s. Some have interpreted this to mean that life is clearly divided into two parts—the secular, with its appropriate obligations, and the sacred, with its duties to God. Such a division is actually quite impossible. Filson is correct in saying that “what Jesus means is that they have an obligation to the government over them, but they have a greater obligation to God; it covers all of life; in the present situation it includes the obligation to pay the tax to the power that God permits to rule the Jews” (p. 235). Jesus’ answer “took them by surprise” (NEB), so they went away and left him alone. Their attempt to trap him had failed.

22:23–33 / On the same day that the Pharisees failed to trap Jesus with their question about paying taxes to the emperor, the Sadducees came to him posing a question that they thought would show the logical absurdity of the Pharisaic doctrine of resurrection. At the same time, it would force Jesus to commit himself in such a way that he would lose favor with one group or the other. The respective positions are summarized in Acts 23:8: “The Sadducees say that there is no resurrection, and that there are neither angels nor spirits, but the Pharisees acknowledge them all” (cf. Josephus Ant. 18.12–22). The Sadducees were the wealthy governing class and, in terms of doctrine, were traditionalists. They accepted as authoritative only the books of Moses.

The problem posed by the Sadducees relates to what is called levirate marriage (from the Latin, levir, “husband’s brother”). Deuteronomy 25:5–10 taught that if a man dies without leaving a son, his brother (if they are living together) must marry the widow and raise children to the dead brother (cf. the case of Onan who is responsible to lie with Tamar and produce offspring for his brother Er; Gen. 38:7–8). The Sadducees asked what would happen if seven brothers all followed this instruction with the same wife and then died. At the resurrection, whose wife will she be? The line of argument is reductio ad absurdum: God would not order a practice that would lead to such an absurd situation. Therefore the idea of resurrection is invalid. The Sadducee’s question is no question at all; it is an attempt to discredit Jesus as a logical teacher.

Jesus’ response to the Sadducees is that they have wandered from the truth (planaō in the passive means “to go astray”), because they do not know the Scriptures or the power of God (v. 29). Taking these two issues in reverse order, Jesus points out that at the resurrection … they will be like the angels in that they will not marry. God’s creative power will so transform the nature of existence that the normal conditions of life will no longer be in effect (cf. Paul’s “We will all be changed,” 1 Cor. 15:51ff.). Immortality will make procreation unnecessary. Any question about whose wife will a woman be who has married more than once fails to understand the true nature of eternal life. God is one who “calls into existence the things that do not exist” (Rom. 4:17, RSV).

As for the resurrection, the Sadducees had not grasped the fact that when God, speaking from the burning bush, identified himself to Moses as the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, he spoke not as the God of the dead but of the living. Jesus took the very Scriptures that the Sadducees accepted as binding and from them demonstrated the reality of the resurrection. This deduction rests upon the genitives being taken subjectively rather than objectively (i.e., “the God to whom Abraham belongs” not “the God whom Abraham worshipped”; see Tasker, p. 211). McNeile says that we must admit the possibility at this point that “Jesus condescended to a rabbinic style of argument” (p. 322). Whatever the case, the result was amazement on the part of the crowds who gathered to listen. Williams says, “They were dumbfounded at His teaching.” They recognized the superiority of his logic to that of the Jewish leaders.

22:34–40 / Hearing that Jesus had silenced (cf. v. 12) the Sadducees, the Pharisees got together on a new approach (Rieu translates, “they put their heads together”). One of them, an expert in the law of Moses (nomikos, from nomos, “law”) tested him with the question, “Which is the most important commandment?” Green notes that for rabbinic Judaism, all the precepts of the law were of equal significance, and therefore there could be no question of greater or less (p. 185). The issue, however, was regularly discussed by the rabbis.

Jesus’ answer comes from Deuteronomy 6:4–5, which is the opening of the Shema, the fundamental creed of Judaism. The most important commandment is to love God with all one’s heart, soul, and mind. Matthew’s account substitutes mind for “strength” (Deut. 6:5); the parallels in Mark and Luke have both “mind” and “strength” (Mark 12:30; Luke 10:27). Elsewhere in the Old Testament we find simply “heart” and “soul” (Deut. 10:12; Josh. 22:5). The point is that God requires a love that involves the entire person. Barclay says it must be a love that dominates our emotions, directs our thoughts, and is the dynamic of all our actions (vol. 2, p. 278). Love of God is foremost (prōtos in v. 38 indicates rank) in that it is the supreme obligation. From it stems the ability and desire to love those who are created in the image of God (Gen. 1:26–27).

There is a second commandment that is like it: Love your neighbor as yourself. Jesus draws this from Leviticus 19:18. Jesus may have been the first to combine these two commandments in this way, although the ideas appear together in the Testament of Dan 5:3 and the Testament of Issachar 5:2 (which, however, may have been written later than the Gospels; the dates are disputed). In any case, Jesus has expanded the definition of neighbor from “fellow Israelite” (Lev. 19:18) to anyone in need (Luke 10:29–37) and even to one’s enemies (Matt. 5:44). To love one’s neighbor as oneself does not teach self-love, but requires that we extend to others the same kind of personal concern that we have for ourselves. On these two commandments, the law in its entirety and the teachings of the prophets depend (Gk. kremannymi, “To hang”; “as a door hangs on its hinges, so the whole OT hangs on these two commandments,” BAGD, p. 450). All the other precepts and instructions in the Old Testament are ways in which these two fundamental principles find expression.

22:41–46 / Jesus, having answered three questions put to him by the Jewish leaders (payment of taxes, vv. 15–22; resurrection, vv. 23–33; most important commandment, vv. 34–40), now poses one of his own to the Pharisees. Whose son is the Messiah? The son of David, they answer. Then why did David, divinely inspired, call him Lord? If “David calls Christ his Master; how can he be also his son?” (Knox). No one was able to answer; nor did they dare to question him further. Opposition is forced underground, to appear in chapter 26 and achieve its purpose (Fenton, p. 360).

The Pharisees expected the Messiah to come as the Son of David to carry out a military mission related to Israel as a nation. Passages such as Isaiah 9:2–7 and 11:1ff. were understood as portraying national restoration and world prominence. But how could the Messiah be David’s son (and therefore subject to David) if David addressed him as Lord? The implication is that the Messiah is to play a more exalted role than the Pharisees expected from David’s earthly successor (cf. 22:6, 41). Stendahl notes that “the question is one of Haggadah, where two conflicting texts often were shown to be true” (p. 792). Jesus is at one and the same time a true son of David and also David’s Lord.