The Galilean period of Jesus’ ministry has reached its climax at the most northerly point of his travels. This substantial central section of the narrative, which essentially parallels that in Mark 8:31–10:52, now bridges the gap between north and south, bringing Jesus and his disciples out of their home territory in the north and, for the first time in the Synoptic plan, into Judea in the south, where they are in “foreign” territory (see pp. 5–7) and where they will confront the hostile power of the religious authorities of Israel.
This geographical transition coincides with a significant change in the pattern of Jesus’ activity and teaching, signaled by the formula “From that time Jesus began …” (16:21; see on 4:17). The declaration that he is the Messiah (16:16) leads him immediately to clarify what his messianic mission must involve, and the plain declaration in 16:21 that he must suffer, die and be raised again will be repeated in 17:22–23 and with added emphasis in 20:18–19. The shadow of the cross thus falls across this whole southward journey, as Jesus tries to get his disciples to understand the paradoxical and unwelcome nature of his mission. We hear little now of crowds or of public teaching, even when the southward route necessarily leads through Galilee (17:22, 24; 19:1), and only two miracles are recorded in this section, the exorcism in 17:14–20 and the healing of the blind men in 20:29–34.1 Instead Jesus’ attention is focused on teaching his disciples, trying to instill into them the new and radically different values of the kingdom of heaven, and to prepare them for what lies ahead in Jerusalem. They prove to be slow learners, their “human thoughts” (16:23) being constantly shown up by their reactions to what Jesus says and does.
In most of this Matthew runs quite closely parallel with Mark, with little more respect shown to the disciples and their ineptitude, and with the same emphatic reiteration of Jesus’ mission of rejection and death. The most substantial Matthean addition is a lengthy discourse in ch. 18 which, like those in chs. 5–7, 10 and 13, “takes off from” a brief Synoptic base (in this case Mark 9:33–37, 42–48) and considerably expands it with Matthew’s own tradition of Jesus’ teaching on the mutual concern and behavior of disciples. The distinctive theme of this, the fourth of Matthew’s five major discourses, thus fits appropriately into the new focus of Jesus’ teaching within this section as a whole. It is for the internal consumption of the disciple group rather than for wider public airing. Matthew also includes in 20:1–16 a parable, found only in his gospel and addressed apparently to the disciples, which further underlines the paradoxical nature of the values of the kingdom of heaven.
All this prepares the reader for the climax when Jesus will arrive with his disciples outside the walls of Jerusalem in 21:1–9, and the subsequent confrontation with the unwelcoming city (21:10–11) and its sceptical establishment will test the disciples’ allegiance to their Messiah as his predictions of rejection and death come to their fulfillment.
A. A Glimpse Into the Future: Messianic Suffering and Glory (16:21–17:13)
The primary emphasis of this first part of the journey narrative is on the declaration that the Messiah must meet with rejection, suffering and death, and that those who follow him must expect to share his fate. But set within this depressing message is a persistent reminder that that is not the end of the story. The prediction of 16: 21 includes also resurrection on the third day (cf. also 17:9); those who lose their lives do so in order to gain them (16:25–26); the same Son of Man who is to be killed will “come in his Father’s glory” as judge (16:27), and be seen to be king (16:28); and this paradoxical reversal is underlined by a unique “vision” (17:9) in which the rejected Messiah is seen in heavenly glory (17:1–8). A brief explanation to the puzzled disciples (17:9–13) links eschatological fulfillment with human rejection and death by comparing the fate of the returning Elijah (John the Baptist) with that of the Son of Man. There is thus running through these few pericopes a deliberate paradox of death and life (vividly brought out in the word-play of vv. 25–26), of messianic suffering and glory. It is the same Son of Man who is both to die and to reign, and the glorious heavenly being on the mountain is the same Jesus who is going to Jerusalem to die. And if that is true for the Messiah, it can be true also for his followers if they stand firm in their allegiance to him. They will not escape suffering and death, but they are being prepared to look beyond it.
There is thus a thematic coherence to this whole sequence of sayings and incidents which justifies grouping its individual pericopes into a single section. How close that connection is depends on the interpretation of 16:28, and whether the “six days” of 17:1 are to be taken as inviting the reader to find in the vision on the mountain at least a partial fulfillment of Jesus’ prediction. This in turn depends on how we interpret gospel language about “the coming of the Son of Man” (see above on 10:23 as well as comments below). But even if the link between 16:27–28 and the event of the Transfiguration is less specific, the latter provides (for the readers as well as for the three disciples involved) a vital counterbalance to the gloomy prospect of rejection and death which otherwise dominates this section.
1. Messianic Suffering Asserted and Challenged (16:21–23)
21From that time Jesus2 began to show his disciples that it was necessary for him to go away3 to Jerusalem and suffer many things from the elders and chief priests and scribes and to be killed and on the third day to be raised. 22And Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him, saying, “God forbid,4 Lord. This shall never happen to you.” 23But Jesus turned and said to Peter, “Away with you; get behind me,5 Satan. You are a stumbling-block to me, because your thoughts are not those of God but human thoughts.”
For the continuity between 16:13–20 and this following section, despite the obvious new beginning in a literary sense, see the introductory comments on those verses.6 It is here that we begin to see why the declaration of Jesus as Messiah which has been so warmly welcomed in v. 17 is nonetheless not to be broadcast; if even Peter, who has just been commended for his christological insight, can get it so badly wrong, what sort of “human thoughts” might have been provoked by a public airing of the claim that Jesus was the Messiah?
The brief exchange in vv. 21–23 thus sets the tone for this new section of the narrative, both in that Jesus’ paradoxical view of his messianic mission is firmly asserted and in that Peter’s response represents the inability of the disciples to grasp it. The resultant contrast between “God’s thoughts” and “human thoughts” neatly summarizes the nature of the problem. The way the disciples react to the idea of messianic suffering and “defeat” (here as elsewhere the element of resurrection on the third day is apparently so overshadowed by the suffering and death which precedes it that it seems to pass unnoticed) is symptomatic of the natural Jewish response. This is a concept of Messiahship which is going to be very hard to get across.
21 For the formula “From that time Jesus began to …” see on 4:17. The use of deiknymi (“show”) for verbal communication is unusual, but perhaps emphasizes that this is an important new revelation (as in Acts 10:28; 1 Cor 12:31; Rev 1:1), making plain what has hitherto only been hinted at in 9:15 and 12:40.7 The rejection and death of the Messiah is presented as “necessary.” The basis of that necessity will begin to emerge in 20:28 when it is grounded in an obvious allusion to the prophetic model of God’s servant who suffers for the sins of the people (cf. also 26:28), and will be made more explicit in 26:24 (“as it is written of him”), 31 (“it is written”), 54 (“how then would the scriptures be fulfilled, which say it must happen in this way?”), 56 (“that the scriptures of the prophets may be fulfilled”).8 The OT basis for Jesus’ belief that he must suffer and die is most probably to be found in the theme of the suffering and death of God’s faithful servant which is found in Pss 22 and 69 (both to be picked up by allusion in the narrative of the passion), in the paradoxical inclusion of the themes of rejection and death in the cumulative portrait of the Messiah’s mission in Zech 9–14 (to be taken up in the formula quotations of 21:4–5 and 27:9–10 as well as in Jesus’ words in 26:31) and above all in the suffering of the servant of Yahweh in Isa 52:13–53:12, to which we shall note allusions especially in 20:28 and 26:28, but which underlies much of the NT’s exposition of the purpose of Jesus’ death.9
The specific mention of Jerusalem as the destined place of rejection and death picks up the mention of Jerusalem as sharing Herod’s “alarm” in 2:3, and as the origin of the scribal opposition in 15:1. In 20:17–18 the same point will be emphasized, so that by the time the narrative reaches the capital city in ch. 21 the reader is well prepared for the confrontation which follows. The source of the opposition which Jesus will meet in Jerusalem is more specifically spelled out by the mention of the three main groups who made up the Sanhedrin, the chief priests, the elders10 and the scribes. Hereafter Matthew (unlike Mark) will usually mention only the chief priests and the elders (though in 26:57 he speaks of the scribes and the elders), but here the opposing coalition is first introduced by the full listing. The only other time all three groups will be mentioned together is in their triumph over Jesus on the cross in 27:41.
The nature of the Messiah’s “suffering” is as yet undefined; 20:18–19 will spell it out more fully. The fact that it comes from those who made up the Sanhedrin indicates the official and judicial rejection of Jesus by those who had formal responsibility for the life of Israel as the people of God, and so presents us with the paradox of the rejection of Israel’s Messiah by the official leadership of Israel. And the outcome is not left in doubt: he will be killed. We have had a cryptic hint of this outcome in 9:15 and 12:40 and we have heard of the plans of the Galilean Pharisees (a different group from those listed here) to do away with him in 12:14. But now the impending death of the Messiah, which will be the focus of so much of the latter part of the book, comes unmistakably before us not just as a possible outcome of official hostility, but as a divine “necessity.”11 It is this unthinkable prospect which triggers Peter’s instinctive response in v. 22.
Each of the three predictions of Jesus’ death here and in 17:22–23 and 20:18–19 concludes with the contrasting prediction that he will be raised on the third day. Matthew regularly uses the passive verb “be raised” (egeiromai) to refer to Jesus’ resurrection, rather than the more active anistēmi (“rise”).12 He uses the same term also for the raising of the dead other than Jesus (9:25; 10:8; 11:5; 14:2; 27:52). The two verbs seem to be used interchangeably for Jesus’ resurrection in the NT generally, so that any attempt to draw a theological distinction between them is implausible (see p. 487, n. 2): that Jesus “was raised” by the power of God is not to be set over against his “rising” victorious. But the passive formulation perhaps encourages us to see in this event God’s vindication of his faithful Messiah. Jesus’ resurrection is predicted not only in the three passion predictions but also in 17:9; 26:32, in both of which it is not so much announced as taken for granted. His expectation of personal resurrection is not explicitly derived from the OT, but may have owed something to the influence of passages like Isa 52:13–15; 53:10–12; Ps 16:10–11; 118:17–18, 22, which link rejection, suffering and death with subsequent vindication. But despite these predictions the disciples still seem to have been unprepared for the event, perhaps because the idea of the personal return to life of the Messiah (or indeed of any other person except by temporary resuscitation as in 9:25; 10:8; 11:5) was so foreign to their world-view that they instinctively heard the words as a metaphor for future vindication rather than as a literal prediction. It was the suffering and death that stayed in their minds rather than the resurrection.
Such a non-literal hearing might also be supported by the phrase “the third day,” if the disciples understood it against the background of Hos 6:2, where Israel corporately expresses its hope that “on the third day God will raise us up that we may live before him.” There it is a metaphor for national restoration (compare the famous “resurrection” metaphor of Ezek 37:1–14). It may, however, be misleading to focus on “the third day” when seeking the OT background for Jesus’ expectation of resurrection, since the focus in NT references to “the third day” is not on an OT text but on the fact recorded in the gospels of Jesus’ actual time of lying in the tomb. Moreover, if an OT background is to be sought a much more obvious one is already to hand in this gospel in the allusion to Jonah in 12:40, where Jonah’s “three days and three nights” (see p. 491, n. 12) are explicitly offered as a typological basis for interpreting Jesus’ “three days and three nights” in the tomb. But the fact that in all three passion predictions Matthew uses “the third day”13 rather than echoing the phraseology of LXX Jonah 2:1 (or Mark’s phrase “after three days,” which Matthew uses only in 27:63) suggests that the third-day motif is more a reflection of the actual event than a deduction from scripture.
22 Peter’s typically forthright and immediate response is unlikely to have expressed his feeling alone. Just as he spoke for the other disciples in declaring Jesus to be the Messiah, so now he expresses the horror they all shared at Jesus’ perverted idea of the Messiah’s mission. But as the one who has just uttered the honorific pronouncement of v. 16 he feels particularly let down and indeed shamed by the idea that his Messiah should prove to be anything less than a public success. The strong verb “rebuke” (used elsewhere for Jesus’ stern commands to the wind and waves, 8:26, and to a demon, 17:18) not only conveys the intensity of Peter’s shock and his boldness in expressing it, but also prepares us for the even more severe language with which Jesus will respond in v. 23. Peter’s words indicate that he regards the prospect Jesus has outlined not as a goal to be fulfilled but as a disaster to be averted; other people might suffer at the hands of the authorities, but certainly not the Messiah. The strong negative (translated above by “never”)14 conveys that it is not just undesirable but unthinkable.
23 Jesus’ counter-rebuke of Peter is remarkably severe. Even the body-language adds to the effect: whereas Peter had confidentially “taken Jesus aside,” Jesus now “turns on him” to issue a public reprimand. The opening words directly recall the dismissal of Satan in 4:10, here strengthened by the addition of the words “behind me,” to emphasize Jesus’ dissociation of himself from Peter’s ideology.15 But whereas in 4:10 the “Enemy” (which is what “Satan” means) was the chief demon himself, here it is Jesus’ loyal follower. For Peter to be addressed by this obnoxious name must have been deeply wounding, especially after the accolade in vv. 17–19. There is no parallel to such an address to a human being. But this is not merely extravagant abuse; the choice of this epithet suggests rather that behind the “human thoughts” of Peter Jesus discerns an attempt to divert him from his chosen course similar to that which Satan himself had made in 4:1–11. The same Peter who had just spoken what God had revealed to him (v. 17) is now speaking for Satan. Just as the third temptation in 4:8–9 had been to achieve worldly power by accommodating himself to Satan rather than attacking him, so now Peter’s vision of Messiahship represents the easier way to power and authority, the gains without the pains. As long as he holds such a view, the “rock” on which the church is to be built proves instead to be a stumbling-block.16 The image goes neatly with the demand “get behind me:” as long as Peter stands in front of Jesus he is in his way, stopping him getting on with his mission. He gets in the way of God’s purpose for Jesus by his unthinking acceptance of “human thoughts.” Peter has expressed only what comes naturally to the human mind when presented with the idea of power and authority which the title “Messiah” suggests. But human thoughts are not God’s thoughts (Isa 55:8–9), and if they are not questioned they can stand in the way of God’s purpose and derail it. In much of the rest of this section of the gospel Jesus will be seen persistently trying to undermine the “human thoughts” of the disciples so as to get them to see things from the perspective of the kingdom of heaven (note especially 19:23–30; 20:20–28).
2. The Disciple’s Loyalty and its Consequences (16:24–28)
24Then Jesus said to his disciples, “If anyone wants to be my disciple,1 they must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. 25For anyone who wants to save their own life will lose it, while anyone who loses their life because of me will find it. 26For what good will it be for a person to gain the whole world but forfeit their own life? Or what can a person give in exchange for their life?2 27For the Son of Man is destined3 to come in his Father’s glory with his4 angels, and then he will repay every person according to what they have done. 28I tell you truly that there are some of those standing here who will certainly not taste death before5 they see the Son of Man coming in his kingship.”
The explicit concern of vv. 21–23 was with Jesus’ own future suffering and death, but now these verses draw out what is likely also to have been a significant factor in Peter’s dismay at Jesus’ prediction: the death of the Messiah is likely to have serious implications for those who are identified as his followers. So a new stage direction (“Then Jesus said to his disciples”) broadens the scene from the personal debate with Peter to a general pronouncement about discipleship, the first part of it echoing what Jesus has already said to his disciples in 10:38–39.6 Subsequent Christian use of the language of “self-denial” (and even of “cross-bearing”) has blunted the force of Jesus’ words.7 They are about literal death, following the condemned man on his way to execution. Discipleship is a life of at least potential martyrdom. It may be legitimate to extrapolate from this principle to a more general demand for disciples to put loyalty to Jesus before their own interests and comfort, but that can be only a secondary application of the passage. Jesus’ words are not to be taken as merely metaphorical. The “cross” and the “losing life” which he speaks of are literal, and it seems clear from v. 28 that he did expect at least some of his disciples to be killed because of their loyalty to his cause (as indeed they were). Such a demand only makes sense in the context of a firm expectation of life beyond death, and the teasing word-play of vv. 25–26 explores the contrast between that true and lasting “life” and the temporary “life” which is lost in martyrdom.
The reason why it is better to die for Jesus is then explained in vv. 27–28. The note of judgment hinted at in v. 26 (“forfeit”) now becomes explicit, and the judge is the Son of Man himself, that same Jesus for whom they have been called to give up their lives. It is a judgment which takes place in a heavenly scene, where the same Son of Man who is to die in Jerusalem will now be vindicated and enthroned in glory. The earthly threat of suffering and death is thus put into perspective: Jesus himself will rise above it, and his disciple too must expect to be judged (and where appropriate rewarded) in a more solemn and ultimate court than any earthly tribunal. It is in that context rather than in earthly self-preservation that true life is to be found.
Jesus’ words following Peter’s declaration at Caesarea Philippi thus close on a very different note from where they began. The prediction of his coming rejection and death still stands, but over against and beyond it his disciples are to set the vision of his ultimate vindication and glory, as judge and king in the presence of his Father and the angels. To speak of “the Son of Man coming” echoes the language of Dan 7:13–14 (as it did in 10:23), and here the added themes of glory, angels, judgment and seeing confirm that the words are to be interpreted in terms of Daniel’s vision. This is, then, a prediction of the vindication and enthronement of the Son of Man after his suffering and death, and that prediction is here given an even more explicit and emphatic time-limitation: it will be while some of those present are still alive. This time-limit is a remarkably persistent element in the allusions to Dan 7:13–14 in this gospel: in 10:23 this “coming” will be before the disciples have gone through all the towns of Israel; here it will be before some of them die; in 24:30,34 it will be before the present generation is over; in 26:64 it will be seen by those who are Jesus’ judges; and in 28:18 it is, after the resurrection, already a fait accompli. All this weighs heavily against the traditional Christian view that such language is meant to refer to the parousia. Indeed, we shall see in ch. 24 that when the parousia is explicitly spoken of it will be in clear distinction from the events described as the “coming of the Son of Man.” The “coming” is, as in Dan 7, a coming to God to receive power and glory, not a coming to earth. See further on 10:23. We shall consider below on v. 28 at what point before their death “some of those standing here” may be understood to have seen the coming of the Son of Man as king.
Mark at this point speaks both of the Son of Man coming in his Father’s glory with the angels (Mark 8:38) and also immediately afterward of some of those present seeing that “the kingdom of God has come with power” before they die (Mark 9:1). Luke less specifically speaks merely of their “seeing the kingdom of God.” (Luke 9:27) In Matthew the link with Dan 7:13–14 is more consistently maintained in that the subject of the “coming” is in both cases the Son of Man. As a result the basileia is ascribed not to God but directly to the Son of Man himself, enthroned and given universal sovereignty as Dan 7:14 predicts. For Matthew, it seems, the “kingship of God/heaven” is the kingship of the Son of Man (see further on 13:41, and cf. 19:28; 25:31–34).
24 Following his declaration of what it will mean to fulfill the role of Messiah, Jesus now spells out the consequences for those who aspire to follow him. The first two imperatives in this verse are aorist and the last present, so that it may be inferred that “denying oneself” and “taking up the cross” are single, initiatory acts, to be followed by a continuing life of “following,” though this may be to press the usage of tenses too far. To “deny” means to dissociate oneself from a statement or a person, as in 10:33, and most famously of Peter in 26:34–35, 70–75. This is the only time in the gospels when the verb is used reflexively; in the rest of the NT it occurs reflexively only in 2 Tim 2:13 where for God to “deny himself” apparently means to prove untrue to his nature. In the light of what follows it must mean here to dissociate oneself from one’s own interests, which in this case means the willingness to risk one’s own life. It means putting loyalty to Jesus before self-preservation. The demand to “take up one’s cross and follow” has already been made in 10:38; see comments there for the image this would convey in first-century Palestine. It is interesting that the specific term “cross” is thus twice used of the disciples’ fate (following Jesus) before it is made explicit in this gospel that that is the way Jesus himself is to die; this will first be predicted in 20:19 and repeated in 26:2. The crucifixion of some of Jesus’ followers is also predicted in 23:34. Crucifixion is thus not associated exclusively with Jesus; its widespread use by the Romans makes it a realistic prospect also for those who will come to the hostile attention of the authorities as his followers. The NT does not record the crucifixion of any of Jesus’ disciples, but Christian tradition has filled the gap with reference at least to Peter, Andrew and Philip.
25 The idea of “taking up the cross” is now more explicitly spelled out. The play on the range of meanings of psychē (“life,” “soul”) is similar to that in 10:39, but will be further developed in v. 26. See comments on 10:39, and also p. 399, n. 4 for the meaning and translation of the word. 10:39 was a simple contrast between “finding” and “losing” the psychē, expressed reciprocally. Here the first clause speaks not of “finding” life but “wanting to save it,” thus underlining the volitional aspect already expressed in v. 24, “If anyone wants….” A clear choice is thus offered between self-preservation at all costs and the risky business of following Jesus. But the self that is preserved by such a “safe” option is not worth preserving, since the true self is lost. By contrast, the loss of psychē (in the sense of physical life) is the way to find psychē (in the contrasting sense of the true life which transcends death). As in 10:39, the key to this conundrum is the phrase “because of me.” Loss of life as such is no gain; it is life lost out of loyalty to Jesus which ensures that true life is gained.
26 The word-play continues. The prospect of “gaining the whole world” relates closely to the third temptation in 4:8–10, and the means there proposed, the worship of Satan, would indeed result in the loss of the psychē. So here is someone who has succeeded not only in remaining alive but also in attaining everything this world has to offer (the word translated “gain” is normally associated with economic acquisition; cf. 25:16–17, 20, 22), and who yet is ultimately the loser. The loss of that person’s true psychē is described as a “forfeit,” a term which often implies a judicial punishment or fine; the term is perhaps intended to make the reader think of the judgment of God which determines the person’s ultimate destiny.
In the second rhetorical question the metaphor of “exchange” perhaps continues that of “forfeit:” once the psychē has been forfeited there is nothing which can buy it back or persuade the judge to rescind the penalty. But that is probably to look for too much precision in proverbial language. The saying (perhaps modeled on Ps 49:7–9) simply underlines the supreme importance of the psychē; nothing else compares with its value.8
27 The “for” which introduces this saying links this judgment scene with the disciple’s loyalty and martyrdom: it is worth remaining faithful even to the loss of earthly life because there is an ultimate judgment to come, and on the outcome of that judgment the enjoyment of true life will depend. In Dan 7:9–10 the judgment takes place at the throne of the Ancient of Days, surrounded by ten thousand times ten thousand angelic attendants; when the Son of Man “comes” to that courtroom scene it is as the one in whose favor judgment is given. But the result of that judgment is that he in his turn receives “dominion, glory and kingship” over all nations for ever (Dan 7:14), and so Jesus’ saying here merges the two roles, and he comes not to be judged but to judge. He thus shares “his Father’s glory,” and the angels who surround the throne of God become “his angels” (see p. 635, n. 4). There may also be an echo here of Zech 14:5, the vision of the eschatological “coming” of God “and all the holy ones with him.” Thus here, as in 25:31–34, Jesus speaks of his future glory as Son of Man in terms which merge his role and dignity with that of God himself. It then follows naturally that in v. 28 the “kingship” is ascribed not to God but to the Son of Man.
As judge, he will “repay every person according to what they have done.” The whole clause closely echoes Ps 62:12 (cf. Prov 24:12), which speaks of God’s universal judgment; again language appropriate to God himself is transferred to the glorified Son of Man. “Repay” is used for divine rewards in 6:4, 6, 18, and here too the primary emphasis in context is probably on the reward for loyalty even to the point of martyrdom, the reward which results in “finding one’s psychē.” But the term is no less applicable to punishment for disloyalty, and a judgment of every person “according to what they have done” must be expected to envisage either reward or punishment, as will be spelled out more fully in 25:31–46. This saying is thus not only an encouragement to the faithful, but also a warning to those whose loyalty may be wavering. “What they have done” is a broad term, but in the present context the focus is not on lifestyle in general,9 but on whether or not they have maintained their commitment to Jesus in the face of hostility. A more focused perspective on the basis of final judgment will be provided in 25:31–46, and we shall consider at that point how this prospect of judgment on the basis of “what they have done” relates to the Pauline doctrine of justification by grace through faith.
28 This future authority of the Son of Man is now given a timescale. Some of those standing there as Jesus speaks10 will still be alive to see it. The solemn introductory formula “I tell you truly” (see on 5:18) and the emphatic wording “will by no means taste death” mark this out as a pronouncement to be noted. The wording seems unnecessarily heavy: “there are some of those standing here who will” seems a long-winded way of saying “some of you will,” and “will by no means taste death before they see” seems a complicated way of saying “will live to see,” or “will see before you die.” But it is the preceding words which have produced this solemn wording. Jesus has spoken in vv. 24–26 of martyrdom as a realistic prospect for those who follow him, but not all of them will “taste” that death11 before his kingship is revealed to them. Some of them may be martyred before that, but not all.
So how and when might some of them expect to see “the Son of Man coming in his kingship”? Perhaps the simplest answer is to link these words with the further allusion to Dan 7:14 in 28:18, where after the resurrection eleven of them (“some,” not all, following the death of Judas) will encounter Jesus now endowed with “all authority in heaven and on earth.” But that will be only the beginning of an extended period during which the newly established sovereignty of the Son of Man will be increasingly visible. The imminent “seeing” of v. 28 need not then be thought to exhaust the range of application of the fulfillment of Daniel’s vision. Verse 28 speaks of a more specific focus for the more general and timeless authority expressed in v. 27.12 See above on 10:23 for this range of application of the Daniel vision, and below on 26:64 on when Jesus’ judges in the Sanhedrin might be expected to “see” him as king and judge. So it is probably inappropriate to this saying to posit a specific time and place. The point is that while some of them are still alive it will have become clear to those with the eyes to see it that Jesus the Son of Man is enthroned as king.
But the immediate context here suggests another possibility which perhaps better suits the surprising phrase “some of those standing here.” Six days later (an unusually precise time-connection in Matthew, which suggests a deliberate linking of the two pericopes 16:24–28 and 17:1–8) just three (“some”) of those who heard Jesus’ words in 16:28 were to witness a “vision” (17:9) of Jesus in heavenly glory.13 This was a unique experience granted to those three alone; the rest of the Twelve would not see anything like that before they died. It may be questioned whether the vision on the mountain fully matches the promise of “seeing the Son of Man coming in his kingship,” as that kingship was yet to be established after his death and resurrection—hence, no doubt, Jesus’ instruction in 17:9 to keep the vision secret until after the resurrection. But it is likely that Matthew (and Mark and Luke, who use the same awkward phrase about “some of those standing here” and equally closely link that saying with the following account of the Transfiguration) saw in this vision at least a proleptic fulfillment of Jesus’ solemn words in v. 28, even though the truth of Jesus’ kingship was to be more concretely embodied in later events following his resurrection.
3. Glory Revealed on the Mountain (17:1–8)
1And after six days Jesus took with him Peter and James and his brother John and took them up onto a high mountain by themselves. 2And he was transformed before them: his face shone like the sun and his clothes became as white as light.1 3And suddenly2 they had a vision of3 Moses and Elijah talking with Jesus. 4Then Peter spoke up4 and said to Jesus, “Lord, it is good that we are here: if you wish, I will make5 three shelters here, one for you, one for Moses and one for Elijah.” 5Suddenly, while he was still speaking, a radiant cloud overshadowed them, and they heard6 a voice speaking from the cloud: “This is my beloved Son, with whom I am delighted;7 listen to him.” 6When the disciples heard the voice they fell on their faces and were terrified. 7But Jesus came to them and touched them, saying, “Get up; don’t be afraid.” 8When they looked up they could not see anyone except Jesus himself alone.
This is a unique incident within Jesus’ ministry. The only comparable moment of supernatural revelation in the gospel is before that ministry begins, at the baptism of Jesus, when the opening of heaven, the visible descent of the Spirit and the voice from heaven (speaking the same words as here) create a similarly numinous atmosphere and offer the readers a glimpse behind the earthly scene. Jesus’ identity as the Son of God, first declared in 3:17, is now reiterated with the same heavenly authority just at the time when his declaration about his coming suffering and death might have led the readers to question it. Three aspects of the incident contribute to its christological force: (1) the visible alteration of Jesus demonstrates that he is more than a merely human teacher; (2) his association with Moses and Elijah demonstrates his messianic role; (3) the voice from heaven declares his identity as the Son of God.
At 3:17 it was not clear who else might have heard the heavenly declaration; the readers of the gospel are the most obvious beneficiaries of the revelation. But this time it is not only the readers who gain a privileged insight into the identity and mission of Jesus, but also a chosen group of disciples, and the whole episode is narrated from their point of view: Jesus “took them with him” and “took them up” (rather than he went and they followed); he was changed “before them;” Moses and Elijah “appeared to them;” we hear of Peter’s rash words rather than of the experience of Jesus himself; the cloud “overshadowed them”8 and the voice which came from it addressed them directly, speaking of Jesus in the third person and calling on them to listen to him; we hear of their reaction, of Jesus’ reassurance to them and of what they could see when they opened their eyes. It is clear that Jesus took them up the mountain in order for them to have this experience, which he intends them to remember for future reference (v. 9). If what happened there provided Jesus himself with reassurance for his coming mission, we are told nothing of this; it is the disciples’ christological understanding which is being enhanced, and the discussion as they return down the mountain (vv. 10–13) similarly focuses entirely on their grasp of the eschatological timetable. This is, then, an experience of the disciples rather than (as in 3:16–17) an experience of Jesus. The reflection on it in 2 Peter 1:16–18 will stress the privilege (and therefore the reliability) of the disciples as “eyewitnesses of his majesty” who also heard for themselves the voice from heaven.
The experience is described in v. 9 as a “vision,”9 and is narrated in vivid terms of the disciples’ visual and auditory sensations. The location on a high mountain away from other people adds to a sense of otherness and marks this incident as of a different character from the dealings with ordinary people and situations which make up the rest of the Galilean and journey narratives. The other-worldly atmosphere is further enhanced by the visible presence of Moses and Elijah, men long since removed from the earthly scene, and by the supernatural aura of brightness in the appearance of Jesus and of the cloud. We cannot, and need not, know what a cinecamera on the mountain would have recorded;10 in the experience of the disciples heaven has invaded earth and the super-human glory of the Messiah has been revealed. They, unlike their nine colleagues (“some of those standing here”), have been privileged to “see the Son of Man coming in his kingship,” (16:28) even while he has still to complete the earthly mission of suffering and death through which that kingship is yet to be established.11 The discussion on the way down the mountain will underline that paradox.12
Several features of this pericope recall Moses’ ascent of Mount Sinai13 in Exod 24:9–18: a selected group of companions,14 an overshadowing cloud and the appearance of God’s glory on the mountain; possibly also the “six days,” see below. And the reappearance of Moses in this scene further links the two mountain experiences, while the echo of Deut 18:15–19 in v. 5 identifies Jesus as the coming “prophet like Moses.” All this suggests that the figure of Jesus as a new Moses is a factor in Matthew’s account, though it is important to note that whereas at Sinai Moses was the recipient of revelation, here Jesus is its subject, and it is the disciples rather than Jesus who are in the position of Moses, seeing the heavenly glory and hearing the voice of God. Nor is Jesus on this “high mountain” presented as the law-giver, as he was in the scene in the hills in 5:1ff. The link is thus more one of motif and atmosphere than of direct typological correspondence. But this pericope reinforces the perception of the careful reader of ch. 2 that Jesus comes, as Moses did long ago, to fulfill God’s purpose of deliverance for his people. At the same time, he is also clearly marked out as a greater than Moses, both by the heavenly voice which speaks of him alone in terms never used of Moses, and by the fact that Moses and Elijah soon disappear, leaving Jesus alone to carry out the final act of deliverance.15
1 Whereas the rest of this pericope is narrated in the aorist, here we have two historic presents, perhaps intended (like the threefold use of idou, “look,” in vv. 3 and 5; see p. 642, nn. 2 and 6) to get the reader imaginatively involved in a dramatic new development. “After six days” stands out as a more precise temporal connection than Matthew provides elsewhere. In view of the themes of mountain, glory and cloud which will follow, it is possible that it is intended to reflect the “six days” during which the cloud of God’s glory covered Mount Sinai in Ex 24:16, but the parallel is far from close: here the six days are merely the interval before the next story begins.16 It is more likely that this period of roughly a week (Luke says “about eight days”) is mentioned to show that the experience on the mountain followed closely after Jesus’ prediction about seeing the Son of Man coming in his kingship, so as to invite the reader to link the two together (see on 16:28 and introductory comments above). The specific time mentioned is as likely to be derived from memory/tradition as from an OT allusion.
The special place of Peter, James and John as an “inner circle” within the Twelve will appear also in Gethsemane (26:37); see also comments on 20:21. Mark has made more of this small group of Jesus’ closest companions (cf. Mark 5:37 and, with Andrew, 13:3), but in Matthew too they with Andrew are the first four disciples called (4:18–22) and appear first in the list at 10:2–4. This present expedition and the prayer in Gethsemane17 are perhaps particularly intimate moments, at which the full group of the Twelve would have been too many. At any rate, the restriction to only three here is by Jesus’ deliberate choice.18 Only “some of those standing here” (16:28) are to have the vision.
The scene is “a high mountain by themselves;” Jesus is taking them as far as possible from other people and from everyday life. Contrast the occasions when Jesus has gone “into the hills” and there has been surrounded by crowds (5:1; 15:29).19 Here (as in 4:8) we are to think of a specific “high mountain”20 where they could be alone, but which actual mountain it was cannot and need not be determined. The last recorded location was “the region of Caesarea Philippi,” (16:13) and Mount Hermon, which rises to the north-east of Caesarea Philippi, is by far the highest mountain in or near Palestine (2826 m.). But the fact that they will come down from the mountain to meet an apparently Jewish crowd aware of the healing reputation of Jesus and his group suggests a location further south, and the traditional site at Mount Tabor in southern Galilee would be easily reached in six days from Caesarea Philippi. Tabor is not nearly so high at 588 m., but to one who has climbed up it from the plain below it certainly seems “a high mountain.”21 But there are other heights, such as Mount Meron22 (1208 m.), the highest mountain in Galilee, which is more nearly en route for Capernaum (v. 24), and so might better fit Matthew’s few geographical indications.
2 The description of Jesus’ changed appearance recalls other biblical descriptions of heavenly beings who appear among humans. In this gospel note the appearance “like lightning” and the white clothes of the angel in 28:3, and cf. Mark 16:5; John 20:12; Acts 1:10 (white clothes); Luke 24:4 (clothes like lightning). For a fuller account of such an angelophany see Dan 10:5–6, and cf. the description of the risen Christ in Rev 1:13–16. God himself is “wrapped in light as with a garment” (Ps 104:2). Note also the ultimate glory of the righteous in heaven “shining like the sun” in 13:43 (cf. Dan 12:3).23 The visual “transformation”24 is not so much a physical alteration as an added dimension of glory; it is the same Jesus, but now with an awesome brightness “like the sun” and “like light.” Or, one might better say, with the dullness of earthly conditions temporarily stripped away, so that the true nature of God’s “beloved Son” (v. 5) can for once be seen.25 Cf. the reflection on this incident in 2 Peter 1:16–18, which focuses on the disciples’ perception of Jesus’ “majesty,” “honor,” and “glory.” Here on the mountain we have at least a foretaste of the coming of the Son of Man “in his Father’s glory with his angels,” (16:27) though the heavenly beings who accompany him here are not angels but glorified humans.
All this indicates that what the disciples saw on the mountain is on a different level from the shining of Moses’ face when he came down from the mountain in Exod 34:29–35.26 Moses shone for a time with a reflection of the divine glory he had seen; Jesus shone with his own heavenly glory. Moses’ radiance was derivative, Jesus’ essential. The voice in v. 5 will make a clear separation between Moses and Elijah, the servants of God and witnesses to his glory, and Jesus whom God uniquely designates as his Son.
3 Jesus’ other-worldly appearance is underlined by the presence with him of two well-known inhabitants of heaven. Several levels of significance or symbolism may be suggested for the appearance of Moses and Elijah27 here. Both are men of God whose earthly life ended in a supernatural way: Elijah was taken up to heaven without going through death (2 Kgs 2:11), and mystery surrounds the end of Moses on Mount Nebo.28 So these two men, along with Enoch (Gen 5:24), became known as the deathless ones. This was no doubt a major factor in the belief that Elijah would come back in the last days (Mal 4:5, and see on vv. 10–11 and above on 11:14), and while there is less evidence of a clear expectation of a return of Moses himself,29 the promise of a “prophet like Moses” in Deut 18:15–19 played a significant role in Jewish (and still more Samaritan) eschatological hope.30 In John 1:21 Elijah and “the prophet [like Moses]” are suggested together as categories (alternative to “Messiah”) to explain the role of John the Baptist as an eschatological figure.31 These two men therefore also symbolize the coming of the messianic age, and their conversation with Jesus marks him out the more clearly as the Messiah who comes as the climax to their eschatological role. There are also further connections in that both Moses and Elijah went up on Mount Sinai (Horeb) to meet with God and see his glory (Exod 24:15–18; 33:18–23; 1 Kgs 19:8–13). Both men also suffered rejection and hostility from the people to whom they were sent, and so prefigured the experience of Jesus the Messiah. Some or all of the above may have come to the minds of the three disciples on the mountain, and to those of Matthew and his readers as they reflected on the meaning of the appearance of these heavenly visitors with Jesus and on what this implied for the nature of Jesus’ messianic mission. It is less likely that they would have thought, as popular interpretation commonly suggests, of Moses and Elijah as representing the law and the prophets (Elijah, after all, was not one of the writing prophets of the OT); they are there rather in their personal and symbolic capacities as figures in Jewish eschatological expectation and as prefiguring aspects of the Messiah’s role. It is in that light that the disciples will question Jesus about Elijah in v. 10.
4 Peter again takes the initiative, speaking on behalf of the other two disciples, though his actual proposal is (probably, see p. 642, n. 5) to build three shelters himself. “It is good that we are here” in context means not so much “we are glad/privileged to be here” but rather “it is a good thing that we are here because we are available to do what needs to be done.” Peter intends to be not just a spectator but a useful contributor to the event. A bare mountain-top is no place to entertain such august visitors: Peter, as a practical man, will provide them with accommodation befitting their dignity, using the best materials the mountain-top affords. The “shelters” (from the heat of the sun) would presumably have been made with branches and leaves, like those regularly made for the festival of Tabernacles.32 Peter’s proposal indicates a surprisingly “concrete” interpretation of the vision, though Mark and Luke (“not knowing what he was saying”) discourage us from regarding it as a thought-out response. If Peter was inappropriately placing Jesus merely on a level with Moses and Elijah, that mistake is to be quickly corrected by what follows. Matthew, unlike Mark and Luke, does not comment on the appropriateness of Peter’s words, but simply allows them to be superseded by events and forgotten.
5 In the OT the presence of God in the wilderness (Exod 13:21–22) and in the sanctuary (Exod 33:9–10; 40:34–38; 1 Kgs 8:10–11) is symbolized by a cloud, not just any cloud but one associated with fire and glory. Matthew’s description of the cloud here as “radiant” (phōteinos, “full of light”) recalls that motif; cf. also the “cloud with brightness around it and fire flashing from it” which introduces the vision of God in Ezek 1:4. Later Jewish tradition developed this motif into the concept of the Shekinah, the visible glory of God.33 On this high mountain the radiant cloud especially recalls the cloud which overshadowed Mount Sinai when Moses went up to meet God (Exod 19:16; 24:15–18); not only did the cloud visually proclaim God’s presence, but his voice was heard speaking from it (Exod 19:9; 24:16; 34:5). And as in Exod 19:9 God spoke from the cloud so that the people might recognize Moses’ special relationship with God and thus trust him, so now the voice of God addresses not Jesus but the disciples, calling on them to “listen to him.” When God spoke the same words at Jesus’ baptism (3:17), Matthew’s third-person form (in contrast with Mark and Luke) seems to assume that people other than Jesus heard the words (see comments there); here there is a ready-made audience, and all three Synoptists agree on a third-person statement, followed this time by a direct second-person command to the disciples, “listen to him.”
For the divine declaration see on 3:17, where the words are identical. Its purpose at this point is to confirm the disciples in their newly discovered christological understanding (which has been severely tested by Jesus’ declaration of the nature of his messianic mission in 16:21), underlining especially the truth that this Messiah is, in Peter’s words, “the Son of the living God.” (16:16) It also marks Jesus out as in a different category from even the greatest of God’s OT servants, Moses and Elijah. At the same time, the echo of Isa 42:1 (see on 3:17) recalls again the figure of the suffering and dying servant of God and so reinforces Jesus’ declaration that he must suffer and be killed.
The added command to listen to him (which in this context probably relates particularly to the unwelcome announcement he has made in 16:21–28) is probably to be understood as an echo of Deut 18:15, 19, the promise of a future prophet like Moses to whom the people are to listen. The presence of Moses on the mountain underlines this echo. The purpose of the sending of that prophet was so that the people would not need to undergo again the frightening experience of listening directly to the voice of God himself (Deut 18:16–18); so also God’s people of the new age are to hear the voice of God through the words of Jesus. Here on the mountain, and only here, does God speak to them (or rather their three representatives) directly, and they, like their OT counterparts, find the experience terrifying.
6–8 The disciples’ fear on hearing God speak recalls that of the Israelites at Sinai: Exod 20:18–21; Deut 4:33; Heb 12:18–21. For falling on one’s face as a mark of awe or entreaty cf. 26:39; Luke 5:12; 17:16; 1 Cor 14:25; Rev 1:17; 7:11; 11:16; in the OT it is the human response to a meeting with God or with a heavenly being (Ezek 1:28; Dan 8:17; 10:9, 15). Matthew frequently speaks of people, including the disciples, “coming to” Jesus to ask for his help or to raise an issue with him; but he uses the common verb proserchomai with Jesus as the subject only here and in 28:18, in each case when the disciples are overwhelmed by a supernatural event. Together with his touch it conveys a reassuring sense of normality restored; the dazzling figure of v. 2 has become again the familiar Jesus, no longer conversing with numinous figures from the past, but back with his disciples in the present. His straightforward words of reassurance reinforce the point. The frightening vision is over.
The final three words of the pericope, auton Iēsoun monon, “Jesus himself alone,” confirm the return to normality: Jesus is himself again, and the heavenly visitors are nowhere to be seen. Their presence was only temporary, and now the true Messiah, to whose coming they pointed forward, remains in possession of the stage. But his mission will be accomplished not in heavenly glory but in the normal conditions of earthly life; it is interesting that whereas Moses’ face was shining when he came down from the mountain (Exod 34:29–35), the following context does not suggest that Jesus was in any way different in appearance after his temporary transformation.34
4. Glory and Suffering: Elijah, John and Jesus (17:9–13)
9As they were coming down from the mountain Jesus gave them this instruction: “Do not tell anyone about the vision1 until the Son of Man has been raised from the dead.” 10The disciples asked him, “So why do the scribes say that Elijah must come first?” 11He replied, “It is true that2 Elijah is coming and will set everything to rights;3 12but I tell you that Elijah has already come, and they did not recognize him but did to him whatever they wanted. In the same way the Son of Man too is destined4 to suffer at their hands.” 13Then the disciples understood that he had spoken to them about John the Baptist.
This brief dialogue unpacks something of the meaning of the vision on the mountain. It concerns two subjects, the place of Elijah in the process of messianic fulfillment (vv. 10–12a, 13) and the fate of Jesus himself (vv. 9 and 12b). An apparently “academic” question from the disciples about the eschatological role of Elijah is turned by Jesus into a basis for understanding his coming suffering and death, once it is accepted that Elijah is not just a figure in a vision on the mountain but has also already taken his place as an actor in the eschatological drama. The return to the theme of persecution and suffering, both that of John the Baptist and that of the Son of Man, brings us back to the subject which had occupied the disciples before their experience on the mountain, and forces them to integrate this unwelcome concept somehow with the glory they have just witnessed. The resplendent Son of God of the mountain is the same as the suffering Son of Man. The death and resurrection which he has so recently predicted remains his paradoxical destiny.
Matthew’s account makes the connection of the two subjects a little easier than Mark’s unexplained alternation between Elijah and the Son of Man (Mark 9:11–13), his connecting particle (see on v. 10) attempts to ease the sequence of thought, and his explicit identification of John the Baptist as the returning Elijah (as in 11:14) helps the reader to follow the train of thought. But the whole paragraph remains a rather cryptic little exchange.
9 Jesus had deliberately taken only three of his disciples up the mountain to experience this vision, and now he reinforces that selective intention by telling them not to divulge what they have seen, even to their fellow-disciples. Their natural tendency to talk (and boast?) about their experience must be curbed. But here, unlike in the command to be silent about his Messiahship, there is a time limit. After his death (which is presupposed) and resurrection they may talk about it. This suggests, as we have seen also with regard to 16:20, that the reason for the injunction is primarily to avoid popular misunderstanding, or indeed in this case also misunderstanding by the remaining disciples. As long as his mission of suffering, death and resurrection remains to be accomplished, he does not want people distracted by an account of his heavenly glory which, even if it did not in itself encourage nationalistic hopes of a political Messiah, would be likely to turn their thoughts away from the cross to the glory. After the event, no such distraction would be possible, and Jesus would no longer be there to be a potential political leader. In the light of their Easter experience, and only then, the disciples may be expected to have a clear enough grasp of what it all means to be able to talk responsibly about what they have just seen.
Jesus’ confident expectation that he will be raised from death, repeated so soon after the prediction of 16:21, maintains the ultimate perspective of his vindication and kingship (as in 16:27–28), but it will be his suffering that, even after the glory on the mountain, forms the more immediate focus in v. 12b. So the paradox continues.
10 The disciples’ question changes the subject. Rather than ask about the experience as a whole, they raise a question which has been brought to their minds by seeing Elijah on the mountain. In Mark the change of subject is abrupt, but Matthew’s connective particle oun, “so,” suggests some connection with what Jesus has just said. The link is not close, however: the “so” probably connects their question loosely to the experience itself rather than marking a specific inference from Jesus’ instruction to keep quiet about it or from his mention of his resurrection.5 Elijah was, in popular expectation as well as in scribal teaching,6 expected to be a player in the eschatological drama (see on 11:14); that is why he, rather than Moses, is the subject of the disciples’ interest. He “must” come first because this had been prophesied in Scripture (Mal 4:5–6); cf. comments on the “necessity” of Jesus’ predicted destiny in 16:21. So was Elijah’s appearance on the mountain the fulfillment of that expectation? If he was to come “first” (Mal 4:5 says it will be “before the great and terrible day of the Lord comes”), what does his appearance at this point indicate about the coming of that great day, and how does it relate to the coming of the Messiah (who is not mentioned in Malachi’s prophecy),7 especially in the light of what Jesus has so recently said about his future destiny? Or have the scribes simply got it wrong? The disciples are understandably confused.
11 Jesus first endorses the scribal teaching. They are right in what they predict, even though they have failed to recognize when that prediction has been fulfilled. The tenses (“is coming” … “will set”) are those of the scribal perspective, still looking for the coming of Elijah and for his future work of reconciliation; it is Jesus’ past tenses in v. 12a which will subvert that future expectation by stating what has actually happened already. The scribal teaching is closely based on Mal 4:5–6, which says that when God sends the prophet Elijah before the day of the Lord his role will be to “turn the hearts of parents to their children and the hearts of children to their parents.” This work of family reconciliation is broadened in Sir. 48:10 by the added clause “to restore the tribes of Jacob,” and on this basis the scribal teaching includes a wider “setting to rights”8 of everything9 so that God’s people are able to face the judgment of that day.10
12–13 As repeatedly in chapter 5, Jesus now sets over against the accepted scribal teaching what “I say to you.” Where Jesus differs from the scribes is not in their reading of the scriptural promise, but in their failure to recognize when it has been fulfilled. After the strong hint of 3:4 and the explicit statement of 11:14 the reader cannot be surprised to know that Elijah has in fact already come in the person of John the Baptist, as Matthew spells out again in v. 13 to ensure that no one misses the point.11 The account of John’s ministry in ch. 3 supplies clear links with the prophecy of Mal 4:5–6 and its extension in Sir 48:10: John preached the coming of judgment and warned people to repent so that they would escape its terror, and his requirement of baptism as a mark of that repentance and new beginning was a potent symbol of the “restoration” of those of the tribes of Israel who were willing to respond. So “Elijah has already come.” But while some of the people had recognized the validity of John’s message, most of those in positions of religious leadership in Jerusalem had not (see 21:25, 32), and “they” had got rid of him. The “they” is not specified. John’s ultimate fate was not at the hands of those same religious authorities (14:3–12), but it is unlikely to have displeased them as it disposed of a troublesome and too popular challenge to their authority—note how in 3:7 it is the “Pharisees and Sadducees” who are the immediate target of John’s invective. Antipas’ personal and political motives coincided at this point with the interests of the religious authorities, and so “they” did to him whatever they wanted.12 The imprisonment and death of John was not part of the expectation for the returning Elijah, though the confrontation of the historical Elijah with Ahab and Jezebel and his narrow escape from death at their hands (1 Kgs 19:1–3, 10) might have suggested it; Matthew, however, omits Mark’s statement that John’s death was “written of him” (Mark 9:13).
Jesus posits a direct link between John’s death and his own. The “necessity” for his own death (see on 16:21) will later be attributed to a scriptural pattern to be fulfilled, but it arises also from historical analogy. Just as Jesus’ mission is closely linked with that of John (see above, p. 98, and cf. 11:16–19; 21:23–27, 28–32), so also are their deaths. If Jesus is carrying on where John left off, he cannot expect to meet with any better treatment at the hands of those who are threatened by their reforming zeal (though in Jesus’ case they will in fact be different hands; the vague “at their hands” leaves the reader with a sense of generalized opposition). So the appearance of Elijah on the mountain, while it has testified to the heavenly glory and authority of the Messiah, is also (through the experience of John, the second Elijah) a pointer to the earthly fate of the Messiah which he has so graphically predicted in 16:21.
B. Back to the Present: Frustration and Accommodation (17:14–27)
Ever since Peter’s declaration that Jesus is the Messiah the story has focused not on the present situation of Jesus and the disciples but on what is to come, as Jesus has talked about what awaits him in Jerusalem (and about what it will mean for those who choose to follow him there) and about his vindication and glory which is to follow, while the vision on the mountain has also lifted the disciples out of the present situation and shown them a foretaste of that future glory. Now as they come back down from the mountain they are brought rudely back to the present as they find their fellow-disciples in severe difficulties with an attempted exorcism which has gone wrong.
The three short pericopes which fill the remaining space before the beginning of the next major discourse in ch 18 do not form a clearly coherent whole. The first speaks of the failure of the nine disciples, with some resultant reflections on the power of faith; the second conveys Jesus’ second formal prediction of his coming passion; and the third narrates a brief exchange concerning the payment of the temple tax which does not seem at first sight to contribute a great deal to the developing portrayal of the nature of Jesus’ ministry. Attempts to trace thematic connections between these three pericopes are not very convincing,1 and it may be that they are brought together here on no higher structural principle than that Matthew wanted to include them somewhere in this phase of his narrative and so has fitted them in together where he could within this first part of the journey to Jerusalem. In this he follows the same order as Mark and Luke with respect to the first two pericopes, but the third is in Matthew alone (though Mark has at the same point a different dialogue also set in Capernaum, Mark 9:33–37). The first episode must occur here because its narrative setting depends on the absence of Jesus and the three disciples up the mountain; the second passion prediction needs to be included at some point suitably distanced from the first in 16:21 and the third in 20:17–19; and the temple tax episode is set in Capernaum (and requires a lakeside setting, v. 27), and so must be included before Jesus and the disciples move further south (19:1).2
1. The Disciples’ Failure in Exorcism (17:14–20)
14When they had come to the crowd, a man came to Jesus and knelt before him, 15saying, “Lord, show mercy on my son: he is subject to fits3 and suffers terribly, because he often falls into the fire and often into the water. 16I brought him to your disciples, but they were not able to cure him.” 17Jesus replied, “You4 faithless and perverted generation, how long am I to be with you? How long must I put up with you?5 Bring him here to me.” 18And Jesus rebuked him, and the demon came out of him, and the boy was cured from that moment.6 19Then the disciples came to Jesus privately and asked, “Why were we not able to throw it out?” 20He replied, “Because of your lack of faith.7 For I tell you truly, if you have faith as much as a mustard seed you will say to this mountain ‘Move from here to there’ and it will move; nothing will be impossible for you.”8
From the mountain of revelation Jesus and the three disciples come down to a scene of demonic oppression and human weakness which evokes a remarkably strong emotional response from Jesus (v. 17). The parallel with Moses’ experience at Sinai is suggestive: he came down from the mountain with the tablets of God’s revelation and was faced by a scene of religious apostasy which caused him to break the tablets in his anger (Exod 32:15–20).
The disciples’ failure, which is the main focus of the pericope, reads oddly after Jesus has explicitly authorized them to exorcize demons in 10:1, 8, though Matthew, unlike Mark 6:13; Luke 10:17, has not recorded that they have actually done so. It would be possible, therefore, in Matthew’s account, to read this as their first attempt to put that authorization into practice, but it is more likely that Matthew intends us to assume what Mark and Luke explicitly state, that the disciples have done as Jesus instructed them in 10:7–8, and that their failure in this case was untypical; hence his exasperated response in v. 17 and their embarrassed and puzzled question in v. 19. See below on v. 20 for the question of what special circumstances in this case may have led to their failure. The effect of the pericope is to issue a salutary warning to them, and through them to all who seek to draw on the miraculous power of Jesus, that there is nothing automatic about such power, and it may not be taken for granted. The key, as has been so often stated in previous accounts of miracles, lies in faith (8:10, 13, 26; 9:2, 22, 28–29; 14:31; 15:28), but in this case the faith that is missing is not that of the one seeking help but that of the would-be miracle-workers themselves. The sovereign authority of Jesus the Messiah in healing and exorcism is unique; his disciples can draw on it only by faith, and that is what in this case they have failed to do.
This is the only healing/exorcism story after the end of the Galilean ministry, except the healing of the blind men of Jericho (20:29–34) which could not be recorded elsewhere because of its geographical setting.9 Its appropriateness at this point in the narrative derives from its focus on the faith and failure of the disciples, so that it is told not primarily as an example of Jesus’ miraculous power, but as a lesson in discipleship. As such it fits well into the dominant focus of the journey narrative. So now we hear nothing of the reaction of the crowd; it is the disciples who are meant to learn from this experience.
Here is another striking example of Matthew’s drastic abbreviation of a traditional miracle story, which results in the miracle itself taking second place to the lesson about faith. Matthew’s account, even after the addition of a saying about faith and prayer (see below), is less than half the length of Mark’s, and while it is similar in length to Luke’s, this is partly accounted for by the fact that Luke has omitted the whole of the private dialogue with the disciples which takes up more than a third of Matthew’s pericope. The abbreviation has been achieved by cutting out almost all the vivid description of the boy’s condition which makes this pericope in Mark such a graphic tale. Matthew also, like Luke, omits any mention of the father’s struggle of faith (Mark 9:23–24). As a result, after the brief description of the boy’s fits in v. 15, Jesus’ successful exorcism is narrated with minimal detail in a single verse (v. 18), and all the emphasis falls on the disciples’ previous failure, and on what this reveals about their lack of faith. Matthew then adds Jesus’ pronouncement on the power of faith which neither Mark nor Luke includes at this point, and which will recur in an expanded form after the cursing of the fig-tree in 21:21–22 (where there is a parallel saying also in Mark), while Luke has a similar saying in 17:6 without any narrative miracle to support it. This procedure of drastically abbreviating the narrative detail but expanding the didactic material is typical of Matthew’s method; cf. the addition of 8:11–12 to the traditional story of the centurion’s servant.
14 The presence of a crowd, and of a man aware of the healing power of Jesus and his companions, is surprising because the last location we have been given is the largely non-Jewish region of Caesarea Philippi (16:13), where it seems that Jesus went alone with his disciples. But see above on v. 1 for the possibility that the Transfiguration took place somewhere further south, in Galilee, an area more likely to produce such a crowd; the next pericope assumes that they have now returned to Galilee (v. 22) and the next specific location will be in Capernaum (v. 24). We should therefore probably assume that the “man” here is Jewish, since there is no qualifying adjective as there was in 15:22. The only other specific mention of kneeling (gonupeteō) in Matthew is of the mock-homage of the Roman soldiers to the Jewish “king” in 27:29, but the term probably does not significantly differ in connotation from the “low bow” (proskuneō) which is Matthew’s usual term for the posture of a suppliant (see p. 303, n. 6).
15 Both “Lord” and “show mercy” are recurrent features in this gospel in appeals for Jesus’ help and healing. But here, as in 15:22, the appeal is not on behalf of the speaker himself/herself, but for his son/her daughter. It is significant that in both cases the problem is one of demon-possession. There is no instance in the gospels of a possessed person appealing for Jesus’ help for themselves, presumably because it is the demon who speaks through the possessed person, and the demon does not want Jesus to take any action; normally the approach is rather one of defiance or of dissociation. When Jesus acts against a demon it is either on his own initiative in response to that defiance or in response, as here, to a parent’s appeal.
But in Matthew’s abbreviated account (contrast Mark 9:17–18) it is not until v. 18 that it becomes clear that the problem here is demon-possession. The affliction is rather described by the rare verb selēniazomai (which by derivation should mean to be affected by the moon, hence KJV “lunatick” here) and by a description of fits which sound like what we would call epilepsy (the fuller description in Mark and Luke makes the similarity more impressive). Commentators therefore regularly refer to this episode as “The Epileptic Boy,” but we should note that in the ancient world, which was well acquainted with epilepsy, selēniazomai was not used at this time to mean epilepsy as such.10 Among pagans epilepsy was known as “the sacred disease,” which suggests a divine rather than demonic cause. It is of course possible that first-century Jews, unaware of the electrical disturbance of the brain to which we now attribute the disease, might have attributed the frightening manifestations of epilepsy to demonic action, but we have no evidence for that other than assumptions based on this pericope, where in any case epilepsy as such is not mentioned.11 It seems truer to the text to describe this as a case of demon-possession (which is how all three synoptic evangelists describe it and its cure) which resulted in fits similar to those we know as epileptic.12
16 No doubt the man came looking for Jesus himself, knowing him to be a successful exorcist, but in his absence he hoped that his closest associates would share his skill. They apparently assumed as much too (presumably on the basis of Jesus’ authorization in 10:1, 8), since they have tried to effect an exorcism. The fact that their failure was immediately obvious underlines the “objective” nature of the cure expected; it was impossible to bluff their way out with an assurance that the boy would now be alright. Cf. 9:5–8, where a real cure is “harder” than a mere statement of forgiveness.
17 Jesus’ surprising outburst is addressed not to the man (see p. 657, n. 5) but to the whole “generation.” For similar characterizations of “this generation” as unbelieving and unresponsive cf. 11:16; 12:39, 41–42, 45; 16:4; it is a Matthean theme which will reach its culmination in the charge in 23:34–36 that “this generation” has reached the point of no return in its rejection of God’s messengers. Previous criticisms have described this generation as “wicked” and “adulterous” (taking up the OT imagery of Israel as God’s unfaithful wife). Here “faithless” prepares us for the attribution of the disciples’ failure to their lack of faith in v. 20, while “perverted” introduces a direct echo of the LXX of Deut 32:5, 20, where Moses speaks of the Israelites of his day as the degenerate children of their just and faithful God, a “crooked and perverted generation,” “in whom there is no faith.” Moses is speaking of the people as a whole, and Jesus’ complaint sounds similarly general. But it has been provoked by the failure of his own disciples, who in their lack of faith represent the failing of the people as a whole; if even they, from their position of special privilege (13:11–17), do not have the faith to draw on God’s saving power, what hope is there for the whole generation?
The frustration Jesus expresses here stands out as unusual in this gospel just as does his exultation in God’s revelation in 11:25–26; the two outbursts express the opposite poles of his paradoxical mission. It has added force at this point in the narrative just as Jesus and the three other disciples are returning from their “mountain-top experience,” and it is possible that the echo of Moses’ complaint reflects the recent meeting with Moses and Elijah, each of whom equally found the people of their day extremely trying (see e.g. Exod 17:4; 1 Kgs 19:10). Jesus has accepted that he will be rejected by the official leadership of Israel (16:21), but to find himself let down even by his own disciples evokes a rare moment of human emotion on the part of the Son of God.13 Cf. the “How long?” laments of the psalms (Ps 4:2; 13:1–2 etc.) and prophets (Jer 4:14, 21; 12:4 etc.).
The imperative “Bring him here to me” is plural, perhaps because the boy’s condition requires more than just his father to look after him, but perhaps it is addressed rather to the disciples, who are now to bring to Jesus the patient they themselves have failed to help.
18 Matthew’s very concise account of the actual exorcism surprisingly says that the person “rebuked” is the afflicted boy himself,14 but it is presumably understood that Jesus is addressing the demon within the boy, which “comes out” in response to the rebuke. For the same verb “rebuke” used of Jesus’ direct address to a possessing demon see Mark 1:25; 9:25; Luke 4:41. The cure (graphically described in Mark 9:26–27) is as immediately visible as was the disciples’ failure.
19–20 For the disciples’ request for explanation after a striking saying or incident cf. 13:10; 15:15; 19:10; 24:3. In this case they need help not only with understanding but also with their own bruised self-esteem after their public humiliation. It seems that the authority to throw out demons (10:8) is not enough on its own; faith is also necessary.15 Their lack of faith (see above, p. 657, n. 7) is not explained. Perhaps they had become over-confident in the authority Jesus had given them, so that they assumed they could carry out an exorcism as a matter of course; the added comment in Mark 9:29 (and in later MSS of Matthew; see p. 657, n. 8) that “this kind will not come out except through prayer [and fasting]” implies that they had not prayed for God’s power over the demon. Or perhaps the problem was the opposite, that in the absence of Jesus and the leading disciples up the mountain the remaining disciples did not have the faith to draw on God’s power for themselves, despite Jesus’ authorization, and so their attempt had lacked conviction. At any rate the “little faith” with which Jesus has several times charged his disciples (6:30; 8:26; 14:31; 16:8) has now proved to have serious consequences. For another failed attempt at exorcism see Acts 19:13–17.
The added saying on the power of faith is meant to be remembered (see on 5:18 for “I tell you truly”), and its vivid imagery of mountain moving (cf. 21:21) ensures that it will be.16 The same figure of speech is used by Paul in 1 Cor 13:2,17 and while there is no known contemporary parallel, it appears in later rabbinic writings as a term for “feats of an exceptional, extraordinary or impossible nature.”18 Cf. Isa 54:10 for a similar usage.19 The following assurance that “nothing will be impossible for you” underlines the force of the imagery. But such results are not promised only to those who have great faith, but to even the smallest amount of faith See on 13:31–32 for the proverbial smallness of mustard seed; anything less than a mustard seed would be no faith at all. Faith is not a measurable commodity, but a relationship, and what achieves results through prayer is not a superior “quantity” of faith but the unlimited power of God on which faith, any faith, can draw. The disciples, Jesus implies, had failed to bring any faith at all to bear on this situation.20 For the pastoral problems raised by such an apparently unlimited promise (and by the series of similarly open-ended statements about prayer in John 14–16) see above on 7:7–8 and introductory comments on 7:7–11.
2. Second Prediction of the Passion (17:22–23)
22As they were gathering1 in Galilee Jesus said to them, “The Son of Man is destined2 to be betrayed3 into the hands of people 23who will kill him, and on the third day he will be raised.” And they were utterly dismayed.
The journey to Jerusalem is punctuated with three formal announcements of what is to happen to Jesus when they reach the city (16:21; 17:22–23; 20:17–19). This second4 announcement, set while they are still in Galilee and so not far into the journey, largely repeats in an abbreviated form what the first has said, but adds the important new element of betrayal.
22 If it is not just a rather eccentric use of the verb, “gathering” may be intended to remind us that after the splitting of the party in 17:1–20 Jesus and the Twelve are now again back in Galilee as a single united group, committed to the journey southward. The next scene will find them temporarily settled in a “house” in Capernaum, so that we may be intended to envisage them back at their home base making final preparations for the journey which was first announced while they were away in the far north.
This is the first hint of Jesus’ betrayal by Judas (apart from the editorial comment in 10:4), though as yet no indication is given to the disciples of who will do it. Paradidōmi does not in itself mean “betray;” sometimes it has a totally positive sense (as in “entrust,” 11:27; 25:14, 20, 22), and where it is related to imprisonment and death it can be used without any sense of betrayal (4:12; 5:25; 10:17, 19; 18:34; 27:2, 26). But often the hostile motivation of the agent is understood (10:21; 24:9, 10; 27:18), and paradidōmi (rather than the more specific term prodidōmi) quickly became the standard term for Judas’ “betrayal” (see p. 374, n. 3).5 In view of that general usage it seems likely that the “handing over” predicted here is not simply Jesus’ arrest and the process of his trials and condemnation to death,6 but more specifically the role of Judas. It is also possible to find here an echo of the OT phrase “give in to the hands of” denoting God’s determining the result of human conflict (Exod 23:31; Num 21:2, 34 etc), and such a divine passive would suit the NT insistence that what was done to Jesus was done by the will of God;7 but the prominent use of paradidōmi in the gospels in relation to Judas’ treachery suggests that that is the more immediate focus here. The “people” to whom Jesus will be handed over are not specified here,8 though the reader who knows the story will have no difficulty in identifying them. But the description of them as anthrōpoi, “human beings,” not only produces an effective word-play (the Son of anthrōpos in the hands of anthrōpoi) but also draws a telling and paradoxical contrast between the Son of Man (the figure of future glory and authority, 16:27–28) and those to whose will he is to be subjected.
23 The final two elements in the prediction are the same as in 16:21, but the statement of the disciples’ emotional reaction is new. In 16:22–28 we could infer it from Peter’s immediate response and from the warnings Jesus went on to utter, but now Matthew makes it explicit, using a strong expression which he will use of the disciples again in 26:22. The fact that their dismay follows immediately upon the prediction of Jesus’ resurrection underlines the point we noted above (especially on 16:21), that the repeated inclusion of the resurrection as the conclusion of Jesus’ destiny in Jerusalem seems to have gone completely over the disciples’ heads; the prediction of his rejection, suffering and death so dominated their thinking that they could not see beyond the death to the vindication and glory.
3. Paying the Temple Tax (17:24–27)
24When they had come to Capernaum Peter was approached by the collectors of the temple tax,1 who asked him, “Doesn’t your2 teacher pay the temple tax?” 25“Yes,” he replied. When he came into the house Jesus spoke to him first: “What do you think, Simon?” he said; “The kings of the earth—from whom do they levy duties and tax,3 from their own sons or from strangers?”4 26When Peter replied “From strangers,” Jesus said to him, “Well then the sons are free. 27But so that we don’t cause them to stumble, go down to the lake and cast your fishhook; take the first fish that comes up, and when you open its mouth you will find a silver coin5 there; take it and give it to them for6 me and yourself.”
This apparently rather trivial exchange in fact has significant implications for the reader’s understanding of the status and mission of Jesus. The half-shekel temple tax was an annual levy on adult Jewish males, and one which unlike Roman taxes (see on 22:15–22) might be expected to be paid as a patriotic duty, but the Sadducees disapproved of it as a relatively recent Pharisaic institution7 and the members of the Qumran community on principle paid it only once in a lifetime.8 This approach from the tax-collectors suggests a suspicion that Jesus also might not accept this as an obligation.9 Their question10 is of the form that expects the answer Yes, and Peter takes that answer for granted, but the fact that they had to ask it at all is surely significant. We have already seen a hint of Jesus’ radical attitude to the temple in 12:6 and as the confrontation develops in Jerusalem this will become increasingly clear, both in his demonstration in the temple courtyard in 21:12–17 (which will include an attack on those who changed money for the payment of this tax) and in the developing critique which culminates in his prediction that the temple will be destroyed (23:38; 24:2). So it may well be that he was already gaining a reputation as one who sat light to the authority of the temple and its functionaries, a reputation which would contribute significantly to his eventual trial and execution (26:61; 27:40). This approach from the collectors was therefore more than just an administrative question. And Jesus’ response to Peter in the house confirms that he did not regard himself as standing in the same relation to the temple as other Jewish men; he, unlike them, is a member of the “family,” and the word “sons” invites us to reflect on Jesus’ special relationship with the God whose temple the tax was meant to service.
The implication of the dialogue with Peter seems to be then that since Jesus has the status of a “son” in relation to God, he is “free” and so should be exempt from paying the tax (though the last step of the argument is left unstated). If he nonetheless does pay it, therefore, it is as a matter of accommodation, to avoid giving offense (which is what the verb “cause to stumble” probably means in this context), rather than of obligation. We are not told that he did in fact pay it, but the instructions given to Peter in v. 27 allow us to assume that he did. If so, this is an interesting contrast to other matters of controversy on which Jesus was only too willing to stand up against practices and assumptions which he saw as wrong in principle, and so to incur the hostility of those of a more conventional outlook, as we shall see when he comes to Jerusalem. But where it is his own personal privilege that is at stake, he has no problem with accommodating himself to what is expected of him, and in this way identifying himself with the traditions of his people. Is there a parallel here with his baptism, which, according to 3:14–15, was undertaken not because he personally required it, but to identify with repentant Israel and so to “fulfill all that is required of us”? The Jesus of Matthew’s gospel is not one to stand on his personal dignity, nor to dig his heels in on matters of secondary importance. His followers have not always been so perceptive in differentiating between matters of principle and adiaphora.11
The instruction to Peter in v. 27 is a puzzle. The pericope as a whole is not a miracle story but a debate, with the miraculous solution of v. 27 unexpectedly tacked on at the end. And while Jesus’ words about the fish and the coin read like a matter-of-fact instruction which Peter is expected to carry out to the letter, there is no account of the proposed miracle actually taking place. In view of similar popular stories about treasure found in fish (see below) some interpreters read v. 27 as a legendary addition to an otherwise mundane discussion of economic policy, but in that case it is strange that the catch is not actually narrated. At the other extreme it may be read as a playful comment by Jesus, never intended to be taken literally, on how Peter might raise the necessary sum; it would thus be an ironic reflection of the lack of ready money in the disciple group. There seems no way to decide the matter definitively, but it would be as unwise to include this purely verbal instruction, with no statement that what was proposed actually happened, in a list of Jesus’ miracles12 as it would be to assume on the basis of v. 20 that the disciples did actually move mountains.
24 For the presence of Jesus and his disciples back in Capernaum before undertaking the journey to the south see on v. 22. If, as tradition holds (see on 8:14–15), it was in Peter’s house that they lived while in Capernaum, the tax-collectors naturally approach Peter as the householder and therefore as responsible for those living with him. Jesus, though not the householder, is recognized as “your teacher,” the leader of the disciple group, and it is his attitude to the tax which is in question. It might be assumed that whatever line he himself took on the issue his disciples would also follow, but that is not made explicit (though in v. 27 Peter himself is included with Jesus in the proposed payment).
The temple tax, though probably quite a recent innovation as an annual levy, found its basis in Exod 30:11–16, a one-off payment of half a shekel by every adult male when a census was taken as “a ransom for their lives” to be used “for the service of the tent of meeting.”13 It was paid annually into the temple treasury using the special Tyrian currency (hence the need for money-changers in 21:12). Those going to Jerusalem for the Passover paid it in person, but it was collected locally in the month before Passover from the rest of the Jewish population both in Palestine and in the diaspora (Josephus, Ant. 18.312–313).14 A Jewish shekel was reckoned the equivalent of four Greek drachmas (which were equivalent to Roman denarii), hence the term “the two drachmas” used for the half-shekel tax (see n. 665, n. 1). This was roughly the equivalent of two days’ wages (see 20:1–15 for the value of a denarius).15
25–26 We do not know whether Peter’s confident “Yes” sprang from knowledge of Jesus’ views on the issue or simply from his assumption that Jesus would do as other patriotic Jews did. If he intended to raise the issue with Jesus, he was forestalled by Jesus (through supernatural knowledge, or through having heard the exchange outside?) raising it first with him.16 Jesus’ argument is by analogy with the taxation policy of the “kings of the earth,” a phrase unique in this gospel, and probably intended to contrast human rulers with God as the Lord of the temple;17 it prepares the way suggestively for the question about precedence in “the kingdom of heaven” in 18:1 (see comments there). “Duties” (telē, plural) is a general term for (normally) indirect taxation through customs duties etc., while the “tax” (kēnsos, singular) would refer in Palestine specifically to the Roman poll tax levied on the subjects of an area under direct Roman rule (see on 22:15–22). All rulers, it is taken for granted, need to raise revenue; the question is from whom do they raise it. The specific reference of “sons” and “strangers” will depend on which governing authority is in view: for the Roman poll tax the crucial division was between Romans and subject foreigners (a possible meaning of allotrios, “stranger”), but not all rulers rule over foreigners, and where they are taxing their own people the “sons” who are exempt are more likely to be their own family members as opposed to the wider populace.18 But whatever the exact reference, the principle assumed by Jesus’ question and Peter’s response is that rulers exempt those closest to them from taxation. Whatever our modern democratic ideals may suggest, that seems a valid observation of the natural human tendency as it would have been experienced in the first century.
The analogy assumes that the temple tax (a uniform tax on all Jewish adult males, irrespective of their wealth) is similarly levied by a ruler from his subjects. But who is the ruler of the temple? No human could claim that title; the reference must be to God,19 and the Jewish people are his subjects. Who then are the “sons” who are exempt? The obvious reference in context is to Jesus himself,20 whose payment of the tax was the subject of the question, and who has recently again been declared “Son of God” on the mountain (17:5); the plural might then be explained as derived from the analogy rather than determining its application. But the plural raises the possibility that here, as in 12:1–8, his disciples are also understood to share in his privilege as (in that case) “Lord of the sabbath.” The next verse will go on to include Peter’s own payment of the tax along with that of Jesus, as if the two are on the same footing of accommodation rather than obligation. Just as Jesus had spoken of “something greater than the temple,” not just “someone” (12:6), so here too we perhaps glimpse the concept of a messianic community which in some sense shares the Messiah’s special relationship with God.
27 The word for “cause to stumble” here is the same as “scandalize” in 15:12. On that occasion Jesus seems to have had no qualms about “scandalizing” the Pharisees by his free attitude, so why is it different here? Probably simply because the saying which caused the “scandal” in 15:11 was a matter of fundamental principle for Jesus, and one which exposed the deep divide between his attitude to the law and that of the Pharisees, whereas here it is simply a matter of custom where compliance, even if not necessary, will do no harm, and to flout it would serve no useful purpose. But R. J. Banks also notes the difference in the attitude of the people involved: here, in contrast with the settled hostility of the Pharisees in ch. 15, we have simply people “seeking genuine information concerning his attitude to their customary practice.”21 Whatever the reason, the principle at stake is one which can and should be more widely applied: while there are times when a disciple must make an unpopular stand and so alienate others, many of the issues and practices on which we might legitimately differ from conventional assumptions are not worth fighting over. Cf. above on 7:6 where the issue of discrimination is discussed. A Christian community which sets up “stumbling-blocks” only when it is really necessary is likely to be more effective in mission. In 18:6–9 we will be warned about the danger of stumbling-blocks in a pastoral context.22
Jesus’ instruction to Peter presupposes that though they were willing to pay they did not have the necessary money available23—the half shekel for Jesus alone was not a negligible sum, see above; if the tax was to be paid for all the disciples a substantial amount would be needed. So Peter is to go out and get it by a miraculous catch. The “silver coin” is a statēr,24 a Greek coin normally equivalent to four drachmas, and so sufficient to pay the two-drachma tax for two people. See introductory comments above for the surprising fact that Matthew does not tell us that the proposed miracle actually took place. A number of ancient stories tell of finding something valuable in a fish that has been caught: the most famous is the recovery of Polycrates’ ring (Herodotus 3.41–42), but there are similar Jewish stories in b.Šabb. 119a; Gen. Rab. 11:4, and other cultures provide numerous examples.25 Such a background in popular folklore makes it questionable whether Jesus would have issued such instructions in all seriousness, and Matthew’s failure to mention that Peter did as he was told leaves the pericope hanging in the air if it was meant to be an actual miracle story.26 Nor would a single statēr have gone far toward the total tax bill for thirteen men. It seems to me more likely that Jesus’ words should not be taken at their literal face-value but read in the context of popular belief as an ironical comment on their lack of resources.27 Whether Jesus and the Twelve did in fact pay the tax, and if so how the money was raised, are questions which Matthew tantalizingly leaves open.
C. Living Together as Disciples: The Discourse on Relationships (18:1–19:2)
Following the same pattern as with 7:28–29; 11:1; 13:35, I have included the concluding formula and transitional notice which ends this fourth main discourse within the section it concludes rather than as the opening of a new section, though of course these transitional notices look both backward and forward.
This discourse falls into two main sections, each prompted by a question from the disciples (vv. 1 and 21).1 Apart from the insertion of the second question, however, ch. 18 runs as a continuous discourse, like those of chs. 5–7, 10 and 24–25, rather than being punctuated by repeated narrative introductions as in ch. 13. While it is convenient to divide the text into sections for the purpose of commentary, apart from the second question which divides the discourse at v. 21 all other such breaks are relatively arbitrary (see especially comment on v. 6) and should not be allowed to obscure the connected flow of the discourse as a whole.2
The second section consists almost entirely of a single parable, which undergirds the pronouncement of v. 22 in answer to Peter’s question. The whole of this second part of the discourse is peculiar to Matthew, apart from a rather remote parallel to vv. 21–22 in Luke 17:4. The first part, on the other hand, is as usual based on a briefer synoptic parallel which occurs at the same point in the structure of Mark’s narrative (Mark 9:33–37, 42–47), together with some material loosely paralleled in Luke 17:1–3, and the parable of the lost sheep which shares the same motif, but not the same application, with Luke 15:4–7. All this material Matthew has, as in the previous discourses, moulded and expanded with other material, notably the section on dealing with sin and on the authority of the disciple community in vv. 15–20, to produce a coherent collection of Jesus’ teaching within a particular subject area.
The theme of this discourse is not so much individual discipleship (though several of the examples and instructions are expressed in the singular) but the corporate life of those who are joined by their common commitment as disciples, with special attention being given to the strains and tensions to which such a life is exposed through self-concern and lack of care for fellow-disciples, through bad examples and errant behavior, and through an unwillingness to forgive as we have been forgiven. These are dangers which concern every disciple, and there is no indication that this discourse is intended, as has often been assumed, specifically for the guidance of church leaders. It has been referred to as a sort of “Manual of Discipline” or “Community Rule,” on the analogy of the Qumran document variously so titled. But the emphasis in the first part is on self-discipline, and when the subject turns to the issue of dealing with the sins of others, the instructions are expressed in the second-person singular in vv. 15–17; it is about what the individual disciple should do. That pastoral concern does indeed, if necessary, lead to the involvement of other disciples, and in extreme cases of the whole group (the ekklēsia, v. 17), but it should not come to that. So when the disciplinary authority of the whole body is discussed in vv. 18–20, it is in the context of backing up the individual disciple’s attempts to help a fellow-disciple who has gone astray. And even here, as in the discourse as a whole, no church leaders or officers are mentioned. To take this corporate focus of vv. 17–20 as the leitmotif of the whole discourse, thus constituting it a manual for church leaders, is to get it out of proportion.3 The “community” aspect of the discourse consists not primarily in that it prescribes corporate action, but that it guides the individual disciple on how to live in relation to other members of the community to which he or she is assumed to belong.
Is this discourse then anachronistic when set during Jesus’ ministry, in that it presupposes an organized “church”? We have noted above on 16:18 that the familiar LXX term ekklēsia used here in v. 17 does not in itself demand such a setting. Even during Jesus’ itinerant ministry the Twelve (with possibly a wider group of supporters) formed a close-knit community through their common commitment to Jesus and in their traveling and living at close quarters with him and with each other. Such a common life inevitably creates tensions, and the two questions which prompt this discourse in vv. 1 and 21 express the sort of rivalry and self-concern which would occur naturally in any such group (and which will be graphically illustrated in 20:20–28). But one saying within the discourse does look beyond that temporary situation to a period when Jesus is present with them no longer physically but spiritually (v. 20). It would, however, be unrealistic to suppose that Jesus never looked beyond the period of his earthly presence, that he envisaged the alternative lifestyle set out in chs 5–7 as applicable only to the period of his earthly ministry, that he had expected his disciples to disband once he was gone, and that the disciple-making community which he launches in 28:18–20 was purely an afterthought. In 9:15 he clearly envisaged his disciples continuing to live as a recognizable group after his death, and the whole of the final discourse in chs. 24–25 presupposes that there will be a distinctive group of those who belong to the kingdom of God both before and after the destruction of the temple, and indeed until the parousia. To speak of this continuing Jesus movement as “the church” perhaps raises unnecessary connotations at this point, and (despite v. 17) such language is not needed to make sense of this discourse. It is about disciples getting on together, and that is an issue which was equally relevant both before and after Jesus’ death and resurrection. It is of course to be expected that Matthew has designed this anthology of Jesus’ teaching with a view to some of the pastoral issues of his own Christian community,4 which may be particularly in his mind in using the word ekklēsia in v. 17, but that is not to say that the issues, and the way they are addressed, could have no place in the teaching of the earthly Jesus.
A prominent feature of this chapter is the theme of the “little ones,”5 introduced via the example of an actual child in vv. 2–5, but developed in vv. 6, 10, 14 in a way which clearly goes beyond literal children to include fellow-members of the disciple community6 in their insignificance and vulnerability.7 The theme has already been announced in 10:42, where “one of these little ones” is offered help “as a disciple,” and will be further developed in the “smallest” brothers of Jesus in 25:40, 45. Jesus’ true followers are “little children” who have received God’s revelation which is hidden from the “wise and intelligent.” (11:25) So here the relationship between such disciples must be one of mutual consideration and pastoral care such as “little ones” need. By becoming “like children” (v. 3) and accepting the lowest place (20:26–27) all true disciples become, and must be treated as, “little ones.” There are no “great ones” in the kingdom of heaven.
“The portrait of the church which thus emerges is an attractive one. Status-consciousness and formally constituted authority have no place. The focus is on the relationship and mutual responsibility of all members of the community, each of whom matters, and yet all of whom must regard themselves only as ‘little ones’. The resultant pastoral concern and action is not the preserve of a select few, but is the responsibility of each individual disciple, and, where necessary, of the whole group together. The structure is informal, but the sense of community is intense. And overarching it all is the consciousness of the presence of Jesus and of the forgiveness and pastoral concern of ‘your Father in heaven’.”8
1. The Disciples’ Question about Status (18:1)
1At that time the disciples came to Jesus and asked, “So9 who is the greatest10 in the kingdom of heaven?”
The question of comparative status within the disciple group is a recurrent one; cf. 20:26–28; 23:11–12 and in addition to Marcan and Lucan parallels to these passages see also Luke 22:24–27 (even at the Last Supper!). For the concept of comparative status in the kingdom of heaven cf. 5:19; 11:11. Usage so far in this gospel indicates that “the kingdom of heaven” here refers to the new values which Jesus is inculcating, and the communal life of those who embrace them, so that in effect the question means “Who is the top disciple?” The question has become more urgent as Jesus has made it clearer that he is to die; in that case, who is to take the lead when he is gone?11
But the opening “at that time” and still more the connective “So” (see n. 9) indicate a more specific link with the preceding pericope. How then has the issue of the temple tax provoked this question? Jesus’ argument was one of comparative status, that of the “sons” in relation to “strangers,” and the privileges that go with it. Moreover, this argument has been based on the accepted practice of the “kings of the earth:” so does the kingdom of heaven operate along similar lines? If so, who are the privileged “sons”? We have noted in 17:24–27 the possibility that Jesus includes the disciples with himself in that special status, but they want the issue clarified.
And there is a further factor which has sharpened the question: in the previous pericope, as in several other situations already in the gospel, Peter has been in the limelight, living up to Matthew’s singling him out as “first” (10:2). His declaration at 16:16 has evoked Jesus’ warm commendation of his insight (16:17) and a consequent statement about his special role and authority in the founding of Jesus’ ekklēsia (16:18–19), and Peter with his two closest colleagues has been singled out for a special journey with Jesus up the mountain (17:1), leaving the rest of the disciples behind to face a difficult situation. In 17:24–27 it has been assumed that Peter speaks for Jesus, and Jesus’ “solution” to the tax problem has included Peter along with himself, to the apparent exclusion of the rest of the Twelve. “So who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?”
2. The Example of the Child (18:2–5)
2Jesus called a child to him and placed the child1 in the middle of them 3and said “I tell you truly: if you don’t turn around and become like children, you will never get into the kingdom of heaven. 4And so it is anyone who will take the lowly position of2 this child who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. 5And anyone who welcomes3 one such child in my name welcomes me.”
The example of the child will lead into a more general discussion about “little ones” in the following discourse, but in these opening verses the teaching will be focused on this one child, used as a model for true discipleship in vv. 3–4 and as a model for how one should treat other disciples in v. 5. The disciples’ question sets the agenda for these verses: they are about status, as the repeated use of “little ones” in the following verses will underline. The instruction to “become like children” is thus not about adopting some supposed ethical characteristic of children in general (innocence, humility, receptiveness, trustfulness or the like)4 but about accepting for oneself a position in the social scale which is like that of children, that is as the lowest in the hierarchy of authority and decision-making, those subject to and dependent on adults.5 The phrase “take the lowly position” in v. 4 (see n. 2) confirms this understanding of what the context already demands. Children are socially as well as physically “little ones” (v. 6). If the disciples’ question about being “great” was prompted by a desire to exercise authority over others, they have started at the wrong end. Their “grown-up” sense of social position puts them out of sympathy with God’s value-scale.
The synoptic parallels to this pericope are complicated by the fact that both Mark and Luke have a separate saying, set in the context of the blessing of the children (Mark 10:15; Luke 18:17), which combines elements of vv. 3 (“I tell you truly,” “will never get into the kingdom of heaven”) and 5 (“welcome,” “child”) but relates not to welcoming a child but to welcoming the kingdom of God “as a child.”6 Matthew does not include that verse in his account of the blessing of the children (19:13–15), but here has a statement about becoming like a child (v. 3) to which Mark and Luke have no parallel. Matthew thus achieves a more coherent sequence of thought (both here and in 19:13–15) which also then leads naturally into the Matthean language about the “little ones” which follows in vv. 6–14 (see comments below on v. 6 for the continuity of the thought).
2 Jesus’ love of parables and vivid illustrations here reaches perhaps its most striking expression in the use of a child as a “visual aid.” In the Fourth Gospel a similar lesson about status is equally graphically illustrated by Jesus’ own action of washing his disciples’ feet (John 13:2–15). He is calling for so radical an inversion of their natural assumptions about leadership and importance that shock tactics are needed. We are given no indication of the identity of the child, and that is as it should be: the child’s very anonymity helps to make the point.
3 This solemn warning7 uses the same language about “getting into the kingdom of heaven” as we have seen in 5:208 and 7:21; it will recur in 19:23–24; 23:13 (cf. “entering into life” in 18:8–9 and 19:17). Its use here is surprising, since we have been led to assume throughout the gospel that the disciples are already within God’s kingship, as opposed to those depicted in 5:20 and 7:21 who are in danger of never being true people of God; is Jesus here then suggesting that their position as disciples remains under threat? That is probably to import too rigid a typology of “saved” and “lost” into the phrase, but it strongly warns them that the concern for status which they have just displayed is not compatible with God’s scale of values, and that true discipleship must involve the eradication of this natural human tendency. There is no room for complacency even for those who have become God’s subjects, as the imagery of 22:11–14 will sharply remind us later.
The KJV rendering “except ye be converted” suggests, at least in our modern usage, too technical a sense for the quite ordinary verb “turn,” but while the verb in itself is not technical9 to speak of conversion suitably draws out the radical nature of the change Jesus is calling for. To abandon human thoughts of personal status and to accept or even seek a place at the bottom of the pecking order implies as radical a change of orientation as our term “conversion” involves.10 To turn around and become like a child is in effect to start again on a new footing; cf. the language of rebirth in John 3:3, 5.11 To belong to the kingdom of heaven requires no less.12
4 The way has now been prepared for a direct answer to the disciples’ question. The tapeinos word-group is traditionally translated by “humble,” which in English normally has a strongly ethical implication denoting a mental attitude. The Greek adjective tapeinos can carry the same connotation (as in 11:29),13 but the verb tapeinoō which is used here regularly denotes status, often in direct opposition to hypsoō, “to lift up” (as in 23:12); its meaning is thus closer to “humiliate”, so that to “make oneself tapeinos14 like this child” (the literal translation of the expression here) does not mean to attempt to gain the mental virtue of humility15 which is supposed (by whom?—not by most parents or teachers!) to be characteristic of children, but rather to accept the low social status which is symbolized by the child, who in an adult world has no self-determination and must submit to the will of adults who “know best.” The paradox expressed in this verse is therefore stark: the least are the greatest, as in 19:30, “the first last and the last first.”
5 Jesus’ second comment about the child he has set up as an example looks not now at the child’s own position but at how other people regard the child. It thus moves us forward into the main area of concern in this discourse, how disciples should treat one another. The child is to be welcomed “in Jesus’ name” just as in 10:40–42 we heard of welcoming a prophet, a righteous person or a “little one” literally “in the name of a prophet/righteous person/disciple.” We noted there (p. 412, n. 2) that the “in the name of” formula indicates that “they are welcomed not simply as a person but in the light of their perceived role as God’s prophet (righteous person; disciple), and that it is that status which has triggered the welcome.” But here the child is to be welcomed not simply as a child, but “in Jesus’ name,” which implies that the child represents Jesus (just as in 25:40, 45 Jesus’ smallest brothers represent him), so that to welcome them is to welcome Jesus himself. In this way Jesus gives to the least important person a significance out of all proportion to their human standing. The last is indeed first.
The welcome is to be given to “one such child.” The word “such” suggests that already we are moving beyond the specific child introduced in v. 2 to a wider category of people whom that child represents. That category will no doubt include those who are literally children, but the wider reference of “little ones” in the next part of the discourse points us beyond children as such to all who, as instructed in vv. 3–4, have adopted the child-like position. Jas 2:1–4 dramatically calls for such a welcome to be given to the humanly unimportant.
3. Care for the Little Ones: The Danger of Stumbling Blocks (18:6–9)
6But if anyone causes one of these little ones who believe in me to stumble, it would be good for them to have a heavy millstone1 hung round their neck and to be drowned in the deepest sea.2 7Woe to the world because of stumbling-blocks; for stumbling-blocks are bound to occur, but woe to the person through whom the stumbling-block occurs.
8But if your hand or your foot causes you to stumble, cut it off and throw it away: you are better off entering into life crippled3 or lame than keeping both hands or both feet and being thrown into the eternal fire. 9And if your eye causes you to stumble, tear it out and throw it away: you are better off entering into life with one eye than keeping both eyes and being thrown into hell-fire.4
These sayings, the second of which (vv. 8–9) is roughly parallel to 5:29–30, are held together by the repeated mention of stumbling, skandalizō/skandalon (see above on 5:29–30). In order to maintain this connection I have again translated the metaphor literally (as in 17:27, though the type of “scandal” involved there was different from this context of pastoral care within the disciple community). Here, as in 5:29–30 and 13:21, the “stumbling” envisaged is much more drastic than simply “being offended” or even “scandalized.” It appears to envisage fatal damage to the disciple’s relationship with God. They are caused to “trip” so as to be in danger of falling out of the race altogether. So serious a danger demands extremely serious measures, whether in the punishment of the person responsible (vv. 6–7) or in the elimination of the source of the problem when it is within oneself (vv. 8–9). The result is that these verses contain some of the most severe teaching on spiritual punishment in the gospels. They take hell very seriously.
Apart from the common theme of “stumbling” the two sayings have a different focus. The first is about causing trouble for other disciples, which fits well into the general theme of the discourse; the second seems less appropriate in this context, being about dangers in one’s own life. But the two may of course be connected, as it is likely that the sort of ungodly behavior symbolized by the offending hand, foot or eye will have its effect not only on the person responsible but also on others within a close-knit disciple community, within which “no man is an island”, and so may cause them, as well as oneself, to stumble. This community is, as vv. 10–14 will go on to spell out more fully, made up of “little ones,” and that term implies not only their mutual pecking order but also their vulnerability, like that of the child presented in vv. 2–5. In such a community mutual pastoral concern, such as will be illustrated by the parable of the sheep in vv. 12–14, is a high priority, and it is this pastoral concern which makes the danger of “stumbling-blocks” so acute.
6 I have made a break between vv. 5 and 6 in order to draw attention to the new vocabulary now introduced (“cause to stumble,” “one of these little ones”) which will dominate the following section, but there is no break in the sense: the present verse follows closely from v. 5, with the opening clauses of the two verses using the same Greek construction to contrast the two attitudes of “welcoming” one such child and “causing to stumble” one of these little ones.5
To “believe in me (eis eme)” is a very common Johannine phrase, and language about “believing in” Jesus recurs throughout the rest of the NT, but this is the only time the phrase occurs in the Synoptic Gospels,6 the nearest parallel being in 27:42, the ironical proposal of becoming Jesus’ disciples by those who had condemned him to death, where the preposition is (probably—there are textual variants) epi rather than eis. The phrase serves to define who are meant by the “little ones” here and in vv. 10, 14, so that to “believe in Jesus” describes those who are disciples.7 But the phrase is not necessarily here used in its later sense to mean simply, as we would say, “being a Christian,” but may carry more of the connotation of “trust” which pisteuō generally carries in Matthew—“believing in Jesus” would be a good description of the attitude of the centurion in 8:5–13. The seriousness of the charge lies in that these “little ones” have put their trust in Jesus but someone else (a fellow-disciple?) has damaged that trust.
RSV and NIV translated skandalizō here (and elsewhere) by “cause to sin,” but that is too specific (and has been rightly changed to “cause to stumble” in NRSV, TNIV); GNB probably gets closer to the sense with “cause to lose their faith,” but other versions tend to prefer to keep the metaphor unspecified (e.g. “cause the downfall of,” REB, NJB). To lead a person into sin is one means of causing them to “stumble,” but their life and development as disciples may equally be damaged by discouragement or unfair criticism,8 by a lack of pastoral care, or by the failure to forgive which will be highlighted in vv. 21–35. The “despising” of the little ones in v. 10 is the attitude which promotes such damaging behavior toward them.
The punishment for so doing is not spelled out. If a quick drowning9 is preferable10 the alternative must be terrible, and the “woe” which follows in v. 7 underlines its seriousness. The result of being caused to stumble by one’s own fault is spelled out in vv. 8–9 in terms of eternal fire and hell, and it is unlikely that the penalty for bringing about another’s downfall would be any less. The “little ones” are so important to Jesus that to cause spiritual damage to even one of them is a more than capital offence.
7 This double “woe”11 underlines two aspects of the problem. One is the terrible fate of the offender, as we have noted above. But the other is broader: “the world” itself suffers from such behavior. “The world” (kosmos) here refers especially to the world of people, rather than the physical creation as a whole; for this sense of kosmos cf. 4:8; 5:14; 13:38; 26:13.12 People in general are bound to be confronted by stumbling-blocks; the world is a dangerous place. The “necessity” of such problems (anankē speaks of inevitability) springs not from a specific divine purpose but from the nature of things in a fallen world; cf. 13:37–43 for this acceptance that evil (including “stumbling-blocks,” 13:41) will remain in the world until the final consummation. Discipleship was never going to be an easy proposition, but that is no reason for anyone to make it harder by irresponsible behavior toward fellow-disciples. The idea that people are responsible for their actions even though these are “necessary” is one which runs through both OT and NT (most notably in the story of Judas Iscariot; note a similar “woe” specifically directed at him in 26:24). The fact that a person is operating within a determined structure does not excuse them for their personal choices and decisions.
8–9 This double saying is differently phrased and constructed from that of 5:29–30, but its thrust is the same. This is a rather fuller version, and corresponds more closely to the parallel in Mark 9:43–47, so that 5:29–30 is probably best seen as a slightly abridged and rearranged version of this saying. For the startling imagery of amputation as a preferable alternative to damnation see comments on that earlier saying.13 There the specific context was a warning against adultery (mental as well as literal), but here the scope is not limited, and the principles which applied there to the avoidance of dangerous behavior and attitudes can be as well applied to other areas of human sinfulness. The whole warning is expressed in the second-person singular:14 it is for the individual disciple to work out for themselves where their particular danger of “stumbling” lies and to take appropriate action.
The only significant difference from 5:29–30 in the wording of the conditional clauses and the imperatives is the inclusion this time of the foot along with the hand (following but abbreviating Mark 9:43, 45), which expands but does not alter the imagery. In the explanatory clauses there is more variation in wording, but not in content. The place of punishment now is not simply “hell” but “the eternal fire” and “hell-fire.” “Eternal” (aiōnios) will be used in 25:41, 46 for the ultimate fate both of the saved (“eternal life;” cf. also 19:16, 29) and the lost (“eternal fire,” “eternal punishment”) and we shall discuss its implications more fully there. The adjective derives from the noun aiōn which we have seen used in 12:32 to distinguish between the two “ages” of this present life and life after death; cf. also the description of this world as “this aiōn” in 13:22, and the frequent use of “the end of the aiōn” to denote the end of the present world order (13:39, 40, 49; 24:3; 28:20). The fire here therefore belongs to the “age to come;” the reference is to ultimate punishment, as the parallel use of “hell” in 5:29–30 would suggest. For fire as an image for the ultimate judgment see 3:10–12; 7:19; 13:40, 42, 50, and for the more specific expression “hell-fire” see on 5:22 (cf. also destruction in hell, 10:28).
In 5:29–30 the alternative to hell was stated simply as the loss of one part of the body, but here it is more positively described as “entering into life” without the affected part. While this life is not specifically said to be “eternal,” analogy with the fire would suggest this, and the same phrase in 19:17 stands alongside the specific mention of “eternal life” in 19:16, 29 (cf. also 25:46). Coming so soon after the statement about “entering the kingdom of heaven” in v. 3 this phrase may reasonably be assumed to have a related meaning, eternal life being the prerogative of those who belong to God’s kingship. “To enter the kingdom of heaven” does not mean “to go to heaven” (see on 5:20), but that is the ultimate destiny of those who are God’s true subjects, and the phrase “enter into life” here appropriately spells out that heavenly destiny. As in 5:29–30, it is appropriate to warn against a too literal application of the imagery of this saying to suggest that amputees will find themselves disadvantaged in heaven.
4. Care for the Little Ones: The Parable of the Sheep (18:10–14)
10See to it that you do not despise one of these little ones; for I tell you that their angels in heaven are always looking at the face of my Father who is in heaven.1
12What do you think? If someone has a hundred sheep and one of them wanders away, won’t he leave the ninety-nine on the hills and go and look for the one that is wandering? 13And if he manages to find2 it, I tell you truly that he rejoices over it more than over the ninety-nine that never wandered away. 14In the same way it is not the will of3 your4 Father in heaven that one5 of these little ones should be lost.
The thought of disciples (not restricted to children, though of course including them) as “little ones” (v. 6) continues. Verses 6–7 contemplated the possibility of a “little one” being caused to stumble and so lost from the life of discipleship. These verses underline how serious such a situation would be. The point is made explicitly in vv. 10 and 14 by emphasizing how much every single “little one” matters to God, and therefore should matter also to fellow-disciples. In between these verses a short parable reinforces the message that the one matters just as much as the many, and by likening the “little one” to a wandering sheep reminds the disciples again of how vulnerable they all are. But it also reassures them that they have a “Father in heaven” who cares for each one, and whose pastoral concern is meant to be shared by all his people.
Whereas vv. 8–9 were expressed in the singular, the appeal here is to the disciples corporately; the disciple community should not merely be made up of caring individuals, but should be a caring body, with a corporate pastoral concern for the problems faced by each individual.
The “framing” verses 10 and 14 are peculiar to Matthew, but the parable looks like a reduced version of that in Luke 15:3–7.6 Both have the theme of the effort made to recover a lost sheep and the joy of the shepherd when he finds it, and both contrast the one with the ninety-nine. But among the various differences in wording there is one which may be significant: in Luke the sheep is already “lost,” whereas here it is “wandering away” (the word is repeated three times). This may be no more than an idiomatic variation, but the contexts in which the two parables are set, and the audiences to which they are addressed, suggest that it may indicate a different focus. In Luke the parable is addressed to Pharisaic critics and justifies Jesus’ outreach to the “lost” tax-collectors and sinners who are outside the disciple group, whereas here Jesus is speaking to his own disciples and the emphasis is on disciples caring for one another so that none who are already “inside” will wander away. To oversimplify the difference, Luke’s parable is evangelistic, and Matthew’s pastoral. This may be to press a slight difference in wording too far, especially as in both parables the sheep is a former member of the flock. But in view of the section which follows here in vv. 15–17 about what to do if “your brother sins,” it may be that Matthew’s “wandering” sheep is meant to depict a situation where things have not gone quite so far as in Luke’s version where it is already “lost.”7
10 To “despise” is the opposite of the “welcome” in v. 5. It is the natural way of the world to “despise little ones,” in the sense of not taking them seriously or giving their interests priority. Here, as so often, Jesus attacks the values of the rat-race. It is not just “little ones” as a class who must be respected and welcomed, but, as in vv. 6 and 14, every single “one” of them individually.
The thrust of the second half of the verse is apparently to state, as in v. 14, that every “little one” matters to God. Those who might easily be despised on earth are represented in heaven by angels who are important enough to have a privileged access to God. To “look at the face of God” reflects courtly language for personal access to the king, cf. 2 Sam 14:24, 32; Esth. 1:14; for the ultimate privilege of seeing the face of God see Rev 22:4, and see further the discussion of “seeing God” at 5:8 above.8
“Their angels in heaven” is an expression unique in biblical literature. Perhaps the nearest parallel to the idea of an angel linked with an individual human being is in Acts 12:15 where the presence at the door of Peter, who is assumed to be in prison or dead, is taken to be “his angel” (where we might have spoken of “his ghost”). There are hints of the idea of an individual guardian angel in Gen 48:16 (where the “angel” seems in the parallelism to be the same as God) and in the story of Tobias (Tobit 5:4ff) where the archangel Raphael acts as companion and guardian to Tobias during his journey, though there is no suggestion that he is permanently linked with Tobias as “his” angel. Dan 3:28; 6:22 speak of an angel sent for a specific act of deliverance (cf. Ps 34:7; 91:11–12; 1 En. 100:5). There are also angelic representatives of nations (with Michael as Israel’s representative) in Dan 10:13, 20; 12:1; and Rev 1:20 will speak of angels representing churches. But none of this gives a clear basis for the conception of angels in heaven representing individual people on earth.9 Heb 1:14 talks of angels “serving” God’s people, but without specifying any individual connection. Subsequent Christian devotion has developed the idea of a personal “guardian angel,”10 probably influenced by this passage, and there are parallels in later Jewish writings (Str-B I.781–783), but there is little evidence that the idea was already popularly accepted among Jews at the time of Jesus.11 Hagner, 2.527, argues that the idea of an individual guardian angel (which most commentators assume) is not spelled out here as such; he finds here rather “a more general idea … that angels represent the ‘little ones’ before the throne of God”—thinking apparently of angelic representatives of the class of “little ones” rather than of each individual.
12–13 Care for the “little ones” is illustrated by a simple parable. Following the principle established in 13:10–17, 34, this parable, spoken to the disciples rather than to the crowd, comes with a clear explanation of its intended application in vv. 10 and 14. The straying sheep represents one of God’s “little ones.” The shepherd in the story is apparently the owner of the flock, not a hired help12—John 10:11–15 draws out the importance of the distinction. So each sheep is important to him, not as a matter of sentimentality but as a financial asset, and to lose one would be serious. One that has wandered off becomes an easy prey to wolves or thieves, and so he takes action to recover it before it is too late.13 We are not told how he secures the rest of the flock “on the hills” while he goes off: perhaps by leaving them with a colleague14 or by enclosing them in a sheepfold?15 The greater joy over the one recovered sheep than over the ninety-nine “good” sheep emphasizes God’s pastoral care: it is caused by the recovery, rather than by any inherent superiority in the sheep itself.16 The natural tendency to regard such discriminatory joy as unfair is firmly repudiated in the figure of the elder brother in Luke 15:25–32.
The practical implications of the story will become clear from the verses that follow: if one member of the disciple community is in spiritual danger, action must be taken to “win” them back (v. 15). To do so is to share the pastoral care of God, the true shepherd of his people. The imagery is thus of an insider who has to be kept from straying outside the fold, rather than (as seems to be the primary intention of Luke 15:3–7 in context) of an outsider to be brought in.
The Fourth Gospel develops the idea of Jesus as the good shepherd, and there are hints of this in the synoptic tradition as well (2:6; 26:31, and see on 9:36), but the imagery here derives from the OT where God the shepherd is a frequent theme (Ps 23; 95:7; Jer 23:1–4; Ezek 34:11–16, etc.),17 and the wording of this parable reflects this OT shepherd language, particularly that of Ezek 34:11–16. The explanation of the parable in v. 14 will focus on God rather than Jesus as the one who owns and cares for the sheep. But there is of course no incompatibility between this OT-based concept of God as shepherd and the Johannine imagery of Jesus as the good shepherd—indeed the two are explicitly brought together in John 10:27–30.18
14 For similar “explanations” of parables cf. not only the detailed interpretations in 13:18–23, 36–43, 49–50 but also 11:18–19; 21:31–32, 43; 24:33, 44, and the parable application which concludes this discourse in v. 35. Matthew (and Jesus?) seems to have been innocent of the modern scholarly dogma that a parable should not be explained or applied but left to speak for itself! The explanation given here focuses only on the direct application of the imagery of the parable to God as the shepherd, but the introduction in v. 10 made it clear that the disciples are expected to reflect the pastoral mind of God, and it will be the individual disciple who is expected to take the necessary remedial action in vv. 15–17 to ensure that God’s pastoral concern is implemented among his people. To be “lost” (the verb can also mean “destroy”) is the potential end result of the sheep’s “wandering away”; the term has been used of ultimate spiritual disaster in 7:13; 10:28, 39; 16:25. Its use following the parable of the sheep reminds us of the “lost sheep of the house of Israel” whom Jesus and his disciples are sent to bring back to God (10:6; 15:24).
5. Dealing with a Brother’s Sin (18:15–17)
15But if your1 brother or sister2 sins,3 go and confront4 them, just between the two of you. If they listen to you, you have won your brother or sister. 16But if they do not listen, take with you one or two others as well, so that “every charge5 may be sustained on the evidence of two or three witnesses.” 17If they refuse to listen to them, speak to the church; and if they refuse to listen even to the church, let them be to you like a Gentile and a tax-collector.
The thought flows on naturally from vv. 10–14:6 this is how a disciple is to act when he or she is aware that a fellow-disciple is in spiritual danger, through sin. This is, then, a description of the practical outworking of the pastoral concern for the “little ones” which vv. 11–14 demand. It is addressed entirely to the individual disciple; even the “you” of v. 17 is still singular, so that that verse prescribes not a communal ostracism but the attitude of the individual disciple who first noticed the problem. The disciple is envisaged as acting within the context of the whole community, but the focus is on the individual’s attitude and action. In vv. 18–20, on the other hand, the “you” will be plural, and the focus will be on the authority of the whole disciple community and the nature of its spiritual fellowship. This change from singular to plural is sufficiently remarkable to justify treating vv. 18–20 as a separate section, even though here, as throughout the first part of this discourse, there is an important thematic link between the paragraphs.7
There is a remote “parallel” to v. 15 in Luke 17:3 in the instruction to “rebuke” a brother who sins, but that saying lacks the specific instructions given here and speaks simply of forgiving him if he repents, thus linking the theme of these verses with that of vv. 21–22 (which is, however, differently developed in Luke 17:4). Otherwise, this whole section is peculiar to Matthew, and reveals the practical pastoral concern which characterizes his presentation of Jesus’ teaching (especially but not only in this discourse) and is likely to reflect something of the circumstances of the Christian community within which he wrote.8
The singular pronouns of this paragraph make it very unlikely, however, that these verses should be understood as guidance specifically for church leaders. The subject is dealing with sin within the disciple community, but, remarkably, it is the concerned individual, not an appointed leader or group, who is expected to act in the first instance; the wider community is involved only when that individual initiative proves inadequate, and then only to back up the individual’s concern. It may be likely that the gathered community, whose warning has been ignored, will wish to share in the attitude described in v. 17b so that it becomes a community response to unrepented sin in its midst, but that can only be a matter of reading between the lines; all that v. 17b actually says is that the person who initiated the pastoral action is then to adopt this attitude for themselves. Commentators who use the formal language of ecclesiastical discipline or even “excommunication” in connection with v. 17 seem regularly to fail to notice the singular “you.”9
The person at risk is described as “your brother or sister” (adelphos, see 689, n. 2). This family language imports a note of personal care rather than objective censure. It has been used already in the gospel to refer to a fellow-disciple; see 5:22–24, 47; 7:3–5, and especially Jesus’ designation of those who follow him as “my brothers” in 12:49–50 (cf. also 25:40; 28:10), who are therefore also brothers to each other. The same usage will recur within this discourse at vv. 21 and 35 and later at 23:8. In view of such language we should be cautious about speaking in this context of “discipline,” if that term is understood to connote one person exercising authority over another. The two brothers/sisters stand on an equal footing, and the motive for the approach is personal concern, a concern which the offending brother or sister is apparently at liberty to ignore or to reject. A biblical basis for such an initiative may be found in Lev 19:17 where the individual Israelite is instructed to “rebuke (LXX uses the same verb as v. 15 here) your neighbor, so that you will not share in their guilt.”10
For the “church” which, if necessary, can be appealed to as a last resort, see on 16:18. Here the reference is clearly more local, so that the ekklēsia is the gathering of the brothers and sisters who are accustomed to meet in that place. No mention is made of any officers or leadership within the group; the added force of this third level of appeal derives from the greater number of people who agree in disapproving of the offender’s action, not from any defined “disciplinary” structure. The group share corporately in the pastoral concern which motivated the individual disciple to raise the issue, and in the event of a rebuff we may reasonably suppose that they would share that individual’s attitude of disapproval and even ostracism (see above), but to speak of anything so formal as “excommunication” is to import an anachronistically developed concept of ecclesiastical jurisdiction.11
In a formally constituted church with an appointed leadership it is easy for the “ordinary” disciple to hide behind that authority structure and to leave it all to the official leaders, appealing to Cain’s question “Am I my brother’s keeper?” with the comfortable assumption that the answer must be no. But this passage asserts that the answer is yes. In a community of “little ones,” each must be concerned about and take responsibility for the spiritual welfare of the other. Matthew’s “church” is not a formal one. Of course such individual pastoral initiative, especially where the initiator has not been personally affected by the sin, is open to the response, “What right have you … ?,” and the warning in 7:1–5 against finding fault with others while not noticing one’s own failings is an important caveat to set alongside this passage. But with the sensitivity which properly marks the approach of one “little one” to another, the pastoral model set out here has surely a lot to teach the modern church in which attention to another’s spiritual and ethical problems is too easily dismissed as “bad form” or meddling.
15 The scenario begins with one disciple aware that another disciple has sinned. The nature of the “sin” is not specified. See above p. 689, n. 3 for the omission of “against you,” a decision which significantly affects one’s understanding of the whole passage. I understand this verse (unlike vv. 21ff) to refer to sin in general, not injury specifically to the person concerned, so that to speak of “grievance” or of “conflict resolution” here is inappropriate. The concern may be with the spiritual welfare of the offender themselves or with the effect of their behavior on the rest of the group or on its reputation; the two are not mutually exclusive, but see below for the probable focus here on the danger to the individual. Sin, of whatever form, is not to be tolerated within the disciple community, but is to be dealt with when it is noticed. But it is to be dealt with sensitively and with a minimum of publicity. The principle set out in these verses is of minimum exposure,12 other people being brought in only when the more private approach has failed. The ideal solution is “just between the two of you.” But it is to be explicit and robust: elenchō (see p. 689, n. 4) is not a gentle verb (see its uses in Luke 3:19; John 3:20; 16:8; Eph 5:11). It assumes, as this whole passage assumes, that the person raising the issue is in the right and that the behavior being criticized is self-evidently wrong (the verb “sin” assumes that). In practice matters are not always so straightforward, and it behooves the person taking the initiative to make sure that the “sin” is not simply a matter of personal preference; the eventual involvement of the “one or two” and then of the church should minimize that danger.
The pastoral purpose of the approach is underlined by the verb “win,” which shows that the concern is not mainly with the safety and/or reputation of the whole community but with the spiritual welfare of the individual. “Win”13 suggests that the person was in danger of being lost, and has now been regained; it reflects the preceding image of the shepherd’s delight in getting his sheep back. For the same verb used of the conversion of outsiders cf. 1 Cor 9:19–22; 1 Peter 3:1.
16 The initial one-to-one approach has not been successful, so more drastic action is needed. Again there is no suggestion that the “one or two others” hold any position of leadership, and no indication of how they should be selected. Their role is to back up the concern of the initiator and to endorse their assessment that the matter raised is really “sin.” While the perception or the motives of an individual may be questioned, there is more authority in the united testimony of two or three. Deut 19:15 laid down the principle that multiple testimony is necessary for the judicial conviction of a person for “any crime or wrongdoing;” it is applied more specifically to capital punishment in Num 35:30; Deut 17:6. Verse 16b quotes directly (though more concisely) the LXX of Deut 19:15, with the necessary change of verb-form to fit it into Matthew’s sentence. This principle of multiple testimony was widely recognized (see on 26:59–60a) and is appealed to several times in the NT (John 8:17; 2 Cor 13:1; 1 Tim 5:19; Heb 10:28) in a variety of settings which make it clear that it was understood to apply more widely than in a strictly judicial setting. Here too the reference is not judicial: there is no court, nor is it suggested that the one or two others were present at the offense and so could testify as “witnesses” in the legal sense.
17 We now come to the last resort, which the earlier approaches have been designed to avoid. To “speak to the church” must presumably require a public statement when the community is gathered (rather than a whispering campaign). Such publicity must be avoided where possible, but may prove to be inevitable if the problem is to be solved. The object of the gathering is not to pronounce judgment but to strengthen the pastoral appeal, in the hope that the offender may yet “listen.” The offender, faced by the disapproval of the whole local disciple community, ought surely to recognize that this was not just a personal grievance on the part of the initiator. Anyone who is not willing to accept such united testimony may then properly be regarded as no longer a fit member of the community. “You” (singular, referring to the individual who raised the issue, not, at least explicitly, to the community as a whole) should then treat them as “a Gentile and a tax-collector”.
The terms “Gentile”14 and “tax-collector” were used together in 5:46–47 to represent those of whom a high standard is not to be expected (those who were regarded as “at the bottom of the moral scale,” as we noted there), and “Gentiles” functions similarly in 6:7. This usage represents the traditional Jewish assumption of superiority as the people of God, and the sense that the tax-collectors, even if they were Jewish, were little better than Gentiles (see on 9:9). The terms thus seem to stand for a person who has no place among the holy people of God, and who is to be shunned, in particular by refusing table-fellowship.15 That would be the natural meaning if spoken by most Jews, but could Jesus (or Matthew) have used the terms in this way, since this gospel has emphasized and will continue to emphasize Jesus’ sympathy for outsiders and his willingness to break conventional taboos in order to reach them?16 After the welcome given to the Gentile’s faith in 8:10–13 (greater than any in Israel) and to Matthew and his fellow-tax-collectors in 9:9–13, would it not be more natural to take “treat as a Gentile or a tax-collector” as an invitation to extend friendship and understanding to the offender? But that would make nonsense of the sequence of these verses, where every effort has been made to restore fellowship with the offender up to this point, but now their final repudiation of the consensus of the community has made any further accommodation impossible. We must assume therefore that here the terms are being used in their conventional Jewish sense,17 and that the disciple is being instructed to suspend normal fellowship with the offender. See introductory comments above on how far this may be supposed to extend to the attitude of the community as a whole, and on the lack of any formal “excommunication” language.