32As they went out they found a man from Cyrene called Simon, and they dragooned him to carry Jesus’ cross. 33And when they reached a place called Golgotha, which means Skull Place, 34they gave him a drink of drugged1 wine, and after tasting it he refused to drink it. 35When they had crucified him they shared out his clothes by drawing lots,2 36and they sat and kept watch over him there. 37They had put above his head a written statement of the charge against him: “This is Jesus, the king of the Jews.” 38Then two bandits were crucified along with him, one on his right and one on his left.
The account of the crucifixion runs as a continuous narrative through to the death of Jesus and its immediate sequel in vv. 50–54, but a concentrated depiction of Jewish mockery of the crucified Messiah (more developed than the parallel in Mark) forms a distinct unit within this narrative. It bridges the time interval between Jesus’ being fastened on the cross, probably still quite early in the morning,3 and the final events which followed some six hours later, at the ninth hour. We shall therefore consider this narrative in three sections, covering respectively the crucifixion (vv. 32–38), the mockery (vv. 39–44) and the death of Jesus (vv. 45–54).
The account of the actual fastening to the cross is remarkably restrained—simply a participle stating the fact, with no descriptive content.4 Even the means of fastening are not specified—it is only in John 20:25, after the event, that we hear of nails (they are probably implied also in Luke 24:39). The over-enthusiastic attempts to draw out the physical horror of crucifixion which disfigure some Christian preaching (and at least one recent movie) find no echo in the gospels.5 Perhaps the original readers were too familiar with both the torture and the shame of crucifixion to need any help in envisaging what it really meant. At any rate, the narrative focus in these verses is rather on the surrounding events and the people involved (Simon, the soldiers, the bandits), together with the ironical placard over Jesus’ head which sums up the Roman dismissal of his claims.
32 The condemned man would normally be made to carry his own cross-beam (which was to be attached to an upright already erected at the site of execution); see on 10:38. We are not told why Jesus was not made to do so, but it is a reasonable assumption that after the flogging he was not physically capable of it, or at least that he managed it only as far as the city gate (“as they went out” probably refers to leaving the city; see below). Using their right to commandeer local labor,6 the soldiers forced a bystander to carry it instead. The preservation of Simon’s name and country of origin suggests that he may subsequently have been involved with the Christian community, but there is nothing to suggest that he had hitherto had anything to do with Jesus.7 Jesus’ known disciples, whom he had earlier told to be ready to carry their own cross after him (10:38; 16:24), were nowhere to be seen now that the moment for literal obedience to that demand had come; the reader might especially notice the need for a new Simon to take the place of the Simon who had so loudly protested his loyalty in 26:33, 35.
33 Golgotha is a Greek transliteration of the Aramaic gulgultāʾ (Hebrew gulgōlet), “skull;” Luke gives the name in Greek as simply “Skull,” without “Place.” The origin of the name is unknown, but it perhaps derives from the use of the site as a place of execution. By offering a translation Matthew ensures that his readers do not miss its sinister implications. The traditional identification of Golgotha as a rocky mound just outside the then city wall8 and now enclosed within the Church of the Holy Sepulchre is unlikely to be provable, but matches adequately with the biblical data for the place of Jesus’ death and burial.9 If the Roman trial took place at Herod’s palace (see p. 1035, n. 4), the route to this site would be a short one, less than half a mile out through the city gate beside the palace and north along the western wall, rather than the longer Via Dolorosa which tradition has based on the assumption that the trial took place at the Antonia fortress.
34 The purpose of the offered drink of “wine mixed with bile” (see p. 1063, n. 1) is not explained. The basic meaning of the Greek word cholē 10 is “bile,” the product of the gall bladder, but the bitter taste of bile led to the term being used also for bitter vegetable substances such as wormwood. Matthew no doubt chooses this term to echo LXX Ps 68:22 (EVV 69:21), where it stands in parallel with oxos, “vinegar” (see on v. 48).11 Mark’s parallel here has esmyrnismenon, treated with myrrh; myrrh was sometimes added to wine both as a flavoring spice (like our mulled wine) and possibly to produce a narcotic effect. It is impossible to be sure just what drug the soldiers put in the wine, though it is unlikely to have been the literal animal-product bile. The intention of the “bile” in Ps 69 was apparently to make the food unpalatable,12 but in the context of preparing a man for crucifixion the addition to the wine is more likely to have been a narcotic to ease the pain of crucifixion, such as the women of Jerusalem, inspired by Prov 31:6–7, used to provide according to b. Sanh. 43a.13 Such a considerate act on the part of the soldiers (unless it was a routine part of the crucifixion process, for which we have no other evidence) seems out of character after the brutality of vv. 27–31,14 and it is possible that the original tradition referred to women or left the subject unspecified, but Matthew’s syntax seems to require that the soldiers are the subject. A similar problem arises in vv. 47–49; see comments there.
The allusion to Psalm 69 identifies Jesus as the righteous sufferer who, in that psalm, is ill-treated because of his loyalty to God. The psalm’s description of his sufferings, both physical and mental, quickly established itself alongside that of Psalm 22 as a scriptural model for the suffering of Jesus on the cross. All four gospels (Matthew and Mark twice each) mention drinks given to Jesus at his crucifixion, picking up v. 21 of the psalm, and other parts of the psalm are quoted or alluded to in this connection in John 15:25; Acts 1:20; Rom 15:3 (cf. also John 2:17; Rom 11:9–10).
Jesus’ refusal of the laced wine might be simply because it was, as in the psalm, an unpleasant drink offered in spite. But if, as is more likely, it was intended to dull the pain, Matthew may have mentioned Jesus’ refusal in order to show his determination to go through the ordeal in full consciousness. He has chosen to drink the cup which his Father has given him (26:39–42), and will not be deflected by any human potion, however well-meaning. This seems a more likely explanation of the comment than that Jesus is constrained by literal adherence to a “vow of abstinence” supposedly uttered in 26:29 (see comments there).
35–36 The actual fastening to the cross is passed over almost in silence (see above). It was done sometimes with ropes but sometimes, more cruelly, with nails; John 20:25 tells us that the latter method was used for Jesus. Men were crucified naked, so the clothes which were restored to Jesus in v. 31 are now again removed and become the perquisite of the execution squad. In the soldiers’ method of sharing out this meager bonus Matthew expects his readers to note (see p. 1063, n. 2) the first of several allusions to Psalm 22, in this case to Ps 22:18, clearly echoing the LXX wording, and it is possible that in the further comment that they “kept watch over him there” he intends a further allusion to the preceding clause in the psalm, “they eyed and looked at me” (though here without direct echo of the LXX). For other allusions to Psalm 22 in the passion narrative see above p. 1060; the most prominent, and the one which no doubt drew Christian attention to the psalm in the first place, will be in Jesus’ shout in v. 46. Like Ps 69 (see on v. 34) this psalm spells out the sufferings of God’s righteous servant at the hands of the ungodly, and Christian devotion quickly noted its remarkably literal fulfillment in what happened to Jesus.
The soldiers’ keeping watch by the cross (to guard against a rescue attempt?), as well as possibly enhancing the allusion to Psalm 22, serves in the narrative context to provide the actor required for the second offer of a drink in v. 48, but more importantly prepares the reader for the response of the soldiers when Jesus dies, where their “keeping watch” is again noted. As witnesses to all that will happen up to that point they will be well qualified to draw their remarkable conclusion in v. 54.
37 One purpose of public crucifixion was as a deterrent to other would-be rebels; a written charge displayed on the cross meant that onlookers, whether they knew of Jesus’ trial or not, would see the folly of challenging Roman power. The board was probably hung around Jesus’ neck or carried in front of him on the way to the cross,15 and then fastened to it. If it was, as Matthew says, “above his head” we should perhaps envisage a cross of the traditional shape with an upward projection rather than the T-shape which was probably more commonly used, though the latter is possible if the head hung below the level of the fastened hands. The wording is given most fully by John, “Jesus of Nazareth, the king of the Jews,” while Mark and Luke have only “The king of the Jews;” by adding the name Jesus Matthew perhaps intends to carry forward the contrast of the two men called Jesus which he has set up in vv. 16–23; see following comments.16
38 We have noted the possibility that these two “bandits” were involved in the same patriotic uprising which had put Jesus Barabbas in prison.17 If that is so, it is possible that the third, central cross, had originally been intended for Barabbas (the leader of the group?) and that the other Jesus literally took his place. That would seem an appropriate end for a declared “king of the Jews.” There is thus a harsh irony in the fact that Jesus dies associated with a movement from which he has attempted to distance himself in the face of the unthinking enthusiasm of his followers (see on 16:22–23; 21:1–11; 22:15–22). This is just what the Sanhedrin had planned in the charge they framed to bring before Pilate. Another ironic note, for those who remember the request of James and John through their mother in 20:20–21, is to see who it is who in fact occupy the places at Jesus’ right and left in his “kingship,” while James and John themselves are nowhere to be seen.18
3. Jesus Mocked by Fellow Jews (27:39–44)
39People who were going by abused1 him, shaking their heads 40and saying, “You who can destroy the temple and rebuild it in three days, save yourself; if you are God’s son,2 come down from the cross.” 41In the same way also the chief priests, with the scribes and elders, made fun of him, saying, 42“He saved others, but he cannot save himself. He is3 the king of Israel: let him come down now from the cross, and we will believe in him. 43He put his trust in God: let God rescue him now, if he wants him, because he said that he was God’s son.” 44In the same way even the bandits crucified along with him taunted him.
We have already seen Jesus mocked by the Sanhedrin members immediately after they have convicted him of blasphemy (26:67–68). Now, with Jesus duly secured on the cross, they return to the attack, but this time supported by other Jews, the general public (v. 39) and the men on the other crosses. This is then a Jewish counterpart to the mockery by the Gentile soldiers in vv. 27–31; each ethnic group makes fun of Jesus’ alleged claims, focusing on the terms to which they more naturally relate, the soldiers on the political claim to kingship, the Jews on the religious issues of temple-building and of being God’s son. This combination of representatives of the Jewish people at several different levels (Sanhedrin members, ordinary passers-by and failed insurrectionists)4 provides a poignant picture of the rejection of Jesus by his own people.
But, as with the Roman mocking, Matthew expects his readers to recognize that what is being thrown at Jesus in jest is in fact true. His messianic authority does mean the end of the temple and its replacement by “something greater,” (12:6) “my ekklēsia” (16:18); he is the Son of God; he is the king of Israel, though not in the political sense his mockers imagine; he has saved others and will continue to do so—and indeed that is the very reason why he cannot come down from the cross before his Father’s purpose is achieved. If he had saved himself, he would not have been able to save others (cf. the theme of losing one’s life in order to save it, 16:25; cf. 10:39).
To this weight of theological reflection, even if ironically expressed, this section of the narrative adds a further two allusions to Psalm 22, in vv. 39 and 43 (on which see below). The second of these allusions is to a section of the psalm which had been further developed by the author of the Wisdom of Solomon, and that more developed tradition is also echoed here. The portrait of Jesus as the righteous sufferer thus continues to develop alongside the reminder of his positive role as Messiah and Savior, and the way is prepared for the dynamic climax of this dual role in v. 46.
39–40 The place of execution was deliberately in a well-frequented area so as to maximize the deterrent effect. The mocking bystanders, who represent ordinary Jews,5 are described by a phrase, “shaking their heads,”6 which in Ps 22:7 describes those who see the righteous sufferer and mock him; their words of mockery (Ps 22:8) will be taken up in v. 43. These bystanders know two things about Jesus’ alleged claims, the threat against the temple (as in 26:61) and the claim to be God’s son (as in 26:63); perhaps the news of the charges at the Sanhedrin hearing has already leaked out, but more likely these two charges against Jesus at the hearing had been based on what was already the common gossip about the Galilean prophet (see on 26:61, 63). In either capacity, as one with miraculous power to destroy and rebuild or as one with a special claim on the power of God, he ought not to be dying on the cross. His present helpless situation is the proof of the falsity of his claims.
“If you are the Son of God” echoes the preamble to two of the devil’s temptations in 4:3, 6; here again Jesus must have felt the force of the temptation to exploit his special relationship with God in order to escape physical suffering. But that temptation had already been faced and overcome in Gethsemane (and cf. 26:53–54). Indeed it is that very relationship as “Son of God” which paradoxically requires Jesus to go through with his Father’s purpose on the cross. In some sense even the Gentile soldiers will see the truth of this in v. 54.7
41–43 The second group of mockers are already very familiar to us, and for only the second time (see on 16:21) Matthew gives the full list of the three main component groups of the Sanhedrin, so as to underline the comprehensive rejection of Jesus by the whole Jewish establishment. Their mockery is more theologically sophisticated than that of the general public. They too challenge Jesus to “save himself” and “come down from the cross,” but the first invitation is linked with his alleged claim to be able to “save” other people and the second with his royal claim as Messiah. “Save” has not been used in the theological sense to describe Jesus’ mission since 1:21, where it was in a statement by the angel not in Jesus’ own words, and it is possible that it is here used in the more normal Matthean sense of physical healing and rescue. But “salvation” in some sense was a term many would have associated with a claim to be the Messiah. It is possible also that the shouts of “Hosanna” on Jesus’ arrival in Jerusalem (21:9, 15) had been construed by some as claiming that Jesus was to save his people.8 To contrast this alleged claim with Jesus’ palpable inability to “save” himself from death and suffering (the more common sense of “save” in Matthew) was a clever witticism. “King of Israel,” again perhaps taking up the royal tone of Jesus’ arrival at the city, was in Jewish mouths an even more clearly messianic title, whatever the Romans may have made of “King of the Jews” (see above, p. 1048). The added jibe “and we will believe in him” perhaps pokes fun at the credulous Galileans who had followed Jesus as a miracle-worker; here in Jerusalem he has been more sparing with miracles—surely now if ever is the time for one (note the repeated “now” in vv. 42 and 43; it is now or never). A miracle-worker who cannot even keep himself alive deserves no belief.
Verse 43 clearly echoes Ps 22:8, both in content and to some extent in the LXX wording (“let him rescue” and “he wants him” use the same words). The righteous sufferer is mocked for his trust in a God who, it seems, will not respond to his devotion with practical help. That alone would be a telling scriptural echo, but the following words, “because he said that he was God’s son,” extend the allusion. In Wis 2:12–20 the wicked plot against the righteous man, and are particularly incensed by his claim to be “a child of the Lord” (2:13); the claim is repeated in 2:16, “he boasts that God is his Father,” and in 2:18, “if the righteous man is God’s son.” It is because of this claim that they take up the theme of Ps 22:8:
“Let us see if his words are true,
and let us test how he comes to the end of his life;
for if the righteous man is God’s son, he will help him
and rescue him from the hand of his enemies.”
(Wis 2:17–18; cf. also v. 20)
A reader of Matthew who knew the Wisdom of Solomon would naturally recognize in the words of the Jewish authorities Wisdom’s portrait of the cynicism of the wicked and of their persecution of the godly,9 which in its turn was derived from motifs found in the OT psalms of the righteous sufferer.10
44 The taunts of the third group, the bandits crucified with Jesus, are not spelled out (contrast Luke 23:39). They were no doubt more earthy and less sophisticated than those of the Sanhedrin members. If they were associates of Jesus Barabbas (see on vv. 16–17, 38) their hostility to this Jesus underlines further the contrast between two programs of “liberation” which Matthew has already set up by having the two Jesuses offered as rival candidates for the Passover amnesty in vv. 15–23.
4. The Death of Jesus (27:45–54)
45But from the sixth hour darkness came over the whole land until the ninth hour. 46And about the ninth hour Jesus shouted out with a loud voice, “Ēli ēli lema sabachthani?”1 which means “My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?” 47When they heard this, some of those who stood there said, “This man is calling for Elijah.” 48Immediately one of them ran and took a sponge, soaked it in vinegar, put it on a stick and offered him a drink.2 49But the others were saying, “Stop,3 let’s see whether Elijah comes to save him.”4 50But Jesus cried out again with a loud voice, and breathed his last.5
51And look! The curtain of the sanctuary was torn in two from the top to the bottom; and the earth was shaken and the rocks were split, 52and the tombs were opened and many bodies of God’s people6 who had died7 were raised; 53and coming out of the tombs after Jesus’ resurrection8 they came into the holy city and were seen by many people.
54But the centurion and those who were keeping watch with him over Jesus, when they saw the earthquake and what had happened, were terrified and said, “This man really was God’s son.”
In Matthew’s narrative sequence the mockery of vv. 39–44 took place in the early stages of Jesus’ time on the cross, during the morning. Now a new phase begins about noon, reaching its climax in Jesus’ death soon after the ninth hour (3 P.M.). The focus is not now on the wider circle of bystanders, but on Jesus himself, whose only words on the cross (in Matthew, as in Mark) provide a startling insight into the meaning of what is happening, and on those immediately around the cross, the centurion and soldiers. But alongside the human drama at the cross Matthew records a series of physical events, the darkness, the tearing of the temple curtain, the earthquake and the resurrection of dead people, which add a powerful sense of the far-reaching significance of the death of Jesus, and contribute to the climactic exclamation of the soldiers in v. 54. The last of these events, the raising of the dead, is described at some length; the problems which arise in understanding its status as literal history must not be allowed to distract attention from its clear symbolic significance for Matthew, who is the only evangelist to record this particular phenomenon. J. P. Meier summarizes the impact of these verses as follows: “Here, with the full panoply of apocalyptic imagery, Mt portrays the death of Christ as the end of the Old Testament cult, as the earth-shaking beginning of the new aeon (bringing about the resurrection of the dead), and as the moment when the Gentiles first come to full faith in the Son of God.”9
Within this dramatic setting, the actual death of Jesus (like his being fastened to the cross in v. 35) is recorded in one brief phrase which, however, seems carefully chosen to avoid the impression that he simply faded away (see below on v. 50). The loud cry which precedes Jesus’ death, and his equally loud shout in v. 46, indicate that, unlike most crucified men, Jesus died in full control of his faculties, perhaps even that he died when he himself chose.
Among all the powerful motifs which crowd these verses, two seem to be of particular theological significance for understanding Jesus’ death, his sense of abandonment by God (v. 46) and the tearing of the temple curtain (v. 51). Each of these will be discussed in the comments below. Together they provide a suggestive basis for thinking through what Jesus may have meant when he spoke of “giving his life as a ransom for many” (20:28) and of his “blood of the covenant poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins” (26:28; cf. 1:21, “save his people from their sins”), and for reflecting on the consequences of that blood-shedding for the future relationship between God and his people.
45 Matthew has not noted the time of Jesus’ crucifixion, but his narrative makes coherent sense if we follow the statement of Mark 15:25 that it was at the third hour (9 A.M.),10 which allows some three hours from daybreak for the Roman trial and the preparations for crucifixion. Jesus’ death soon after the ninth hour (3 P.M.)11 then allows time for the arrangements to be made for burial before sunset and the beginning of the sabbath (see on 27:62 and 28:1). While none of the time-indications need be taken as precise, Matthew clearly describes an unnatural darkness in the early afternoon, lasting for some three hours. He cannot be describing a solar eclipse, since the Passover festival was at full moon.12 The phrase “over the whole land”13 is in any case more likely to describe a local phenomenon, which in physical terms might be ascribed to a dust-storm or to unusually heavy cloud cover, but which Matthew surely intends us to see as a visible expression of God’s displeasure as in Amos 8:9–10 (cf. Deut 28:29; Jer 15:9); cf. the thick darkness over “the whole land of Egypt” at the first Passover in Exod 10:22, which was also only in a limited area (Exod 10:23). This darkness is localized because it is in Jerusalem that the event is taking place; cf. the symbolism of cosmic phenomena, including the loss of the light of sun and moon, which Jesus has used in connection with the fate of Jerusalem in 24:29.14
46 The “loud voice,” here and in v. 50, perhaps marks a difference between Jesus and other crucified men who, at least in the later stages of their crucifixion, gradually lost strength (and eventually consciousness). This is not just a cry of pain, but an anguished appeal to God which reveals for a moment something of the mental and spiritual torment of the “cup” Jesus had accepted in Gethsemane. The words are taken directly from the opening of Psalm 22,15 to which we have already seen allusions in vv. 35–36, 39, 43; the psalm expresses the spiritual desolation of a man who continues to trust and to appeal to God in spite of the fact that his ungodly opponents mock and persecute him with impunity. In the end, the psalm turns to joyful thanksgiving for deliverance in vv. 22–31, and some interpreters have suggested that it is the latter part of the psalm that Jesus has in mind as well as its traumatic beginning, so that this is in effect a shout of defiant trust in the God whom he fully expects to rescue him. But that is to read a lot between the lines, especially after Gethsemane where Jesus has accepted that he must drink the cup to the full: he did not expect to be rescued. The words Jesus chose to utter are those of unqualified desolation, and Matthew and Mark (who alone record this utterance)16 give no hint that he did not mean exactly what he said.17
The expression “my God,” while of course it is already provided by the psalm, nonetheless draws attention as a unique utterance by Jesus, who elsewhere in Matthew frequently refers to God as his Father but never as “my God”, and who in prayer has used “Father” to address God (11:25, 26; 26:39, 42; cf. 6:9). It thus marks a change of mood from Gethsemane, where, even though the cross was in view, Jesus could still address and trust God as his “Father.” Now that relationship appears to be broken and Jesus feels himself “abandoned.” This “God-forsakenness” rather than the physical suffering is, perhaps, what he had most dreaded in Gethsemane, so that he begged for the cup to be taken away. In giving his life as a ransom for many for the forgiveness of sins he must, for the moment, be separated from his Father. But it is surely also significant that Jesus, like the abandoned psalmist, still addresses God as “my God;” this shout expresses not a loss of faith, but a (temporary) loss of contact. Matthew does not give us any further guidance in discerning the theology of atonement which lies behind this terrible shout, still less in exploring the psychology of the Son of God in this unique moment of separation from his Father. Nor does he tell us how long this separation was felt, but we note with relief in Luke’s account that when Jesus died he again addressed God as “Father” (Luke 23:46).18
47–49 If Jesus used the form Ēli in his shout from the cross (p. 1075, n. 15), it might have been heard as the name of Elijah, Ēlias in Greek, and a Jewish listener might naturally construe this as a call for Elijah’s help in view of the expectation of Elijah’s eschatological return (see on 17:10).19 There is some later Jewish evidence for the belief that Elijah would come from heaven to help God’s people in danger.20 But those standing by the cross were Gentile soldiers, and it is they who would have access to a suitable drink and be authorized to approach the cross; it is unlikely that they would allow any Jewish interference. Luke 23:36 says explicitly that it was soldiers who gave Jesus the “vinegar.” Should we then assume that Gentile soldiers knew of this Jewish belief in Elijah, and, being unfamiliar with the Aramaic form of the divine name, took it as Elijah’s? Or that Jewish bystanders somehow got the soldiers’ permission to interfere? Matthew does not resolve this question for us.
At this moment of high drama the apparently inconsequential little scene about Elijah reads almost like light relief. But it is the setting for a feature of the crucifixion story which features in all four gospels, the offer of “vinegar” to Jesus to drink. In Matthew, Mark and John this immediately precedes Jesus’ death, while Luke records it earlier as part of the mockery. In John it happens in response to Jesus’ statement that he is thirsty, which is itself said to fulfill Scripture (perhaps Ps 22:15). The mention of “vinegar” in all four gospels, however, indicates that they were thinking also of Ps 69:21, already clearly alluded to by Matthew in v. 34. Matthew and Mark both mention two offers of drink, in the first case in Mark without allusion to Ps 69:21, but Matthew, by including “bile” in the previous offer and “vinegar” here, has spread the fulfillment of Ps 69:21 over both incidents. “Vinegar” sounds to us an unpleasant thing to drink, and that is clearly its purpose in the psalm. But what might be available at the cross (cf. John 19:29) would be cheap wine for the soldiers to drink,21 and most commentators assume that that is what was offered. In that case it was, as it certainly seems to be in John, an act of kindness by one person (and as such was disapproved of by the rest), though Luke presents it as part of the soldiers’ cruelty. Matthew and Mark do not say whether it was meant kindly or cruelly, though the echo of the psalm would suggest the latter. But see on v. 34 for the comparable issue that arises there. The need to use a sponge on a stick suggests that the cross on which Jesus was crucified was higher than some which barely lifted the feet above the ground.22
50 The verb used here for “cry” is not the same as the “shout” of v. 46; it is used three times in the LXX of Ps 22 (vv. 2, 5, 24) for the sufferer’s appeals to God, and its use here might be a further echo of that psalm. Matthew does not tell us the nature of this second loud cry. It is tempting to identify it as the triumphant “It is finished” which Jesus utters at this point in John 19:30, or with Luke’s “Father, into your hands I entrust my spirit,” and thus to find here the reversal of the sense of desolation in v. 46; the conviction of the watching soldiers that Jesus really was God’s son (v. 54) would also follow more naturally from a noble or peaceful death than from one of despair. But Matthew does not tell us its content, and he links this cry with that of v. 46 by using the same phrase, “with a loud voice.” The loudness of the cry at the time of death again indicates that Jesus is not just fading away, but dying while in full possession of his senses.
“He let go his spirit/breath” (aphēken to pneuma) is an unusual way to describe death.23 The ambiguity of the Greek pneuma, “breath” or “spirit,” leaves some uncertainty as to why Matthew chose this phrase. At least it means, like the verb exepneusen used by Mark and Luke, that he “stopped breathing” (so Hagner here), and perhaps that is all it means, but the unexpected phrase with its active verb may suggest a sense of Jesus voluntarily relinquishing his life (for the idea cf. John 10:17–18). Cf. John’s phrase paredōken to pneuma, which perhaps means he handed his spirit over to God (and cf. Acts 7:59); this would agree with the last words of Jesus in Luke, “Father, into your hands I entrust my spirit,” quoting Ps 31:6. “Spirit” here means “that which animates or gives life to the body;”24 there is no reason to see any reference to the Holy Spirit.25
51 The dramatic kai idou, “And look!,” indicates that the extraordinary events which follow in vv. 51–53 were the immediate effect of Jesus’ death. The earthquake, which will be followed by another in 28:2, is a well-known symbol of God’s mighty intervention in the affairs of his world (e.g. Judg 5:4–5; Ps 114:4–7), especially in judgment (e.g. Jer 10:10; Joel 3:16; Nah 1:5–6),26 and following on the unnatural darkness of v. 45 (note that earthquake and darkness occur together in Amos 8:8–10) tells the reader that supernatural events of great significance are taking place. It also provides the context for the opening of the tombs which follows in v. 52, and perhaps explains how the temple curtain was torn—note that Matthew uses the same verb twice in v. 51 for the “tearing” of the curtain and the “splitting” of the rocks. But the tearing of the temple curtain does not belong to the conventional language of theophany, and is apparently a more specific symbol of what Jesus’ death signifies or accomplishes.27
None of the synoptic evangelists specify whether this is the great outer curtain which covered the entrance to the sanctuary as a whole,28 or the inner curtain which separated the Holy of Holies from the sanctuary’s outer chamber.29 The former would be the only one whose destruction would be visible to anyone but the priests, and since Mark, and perhaps Matthew, may have intended their readers to think of a sign visible to observers30 this is more likely the one they meant. The inner curtain, however, would offer a more potent symbol of cultic exclusion.31
The fact that such a tall curtain is torn from the top rather than from below indicates that this is God’s work. After the mockery of Jesus’ enemies, this is the “divine riposte” which vindicates Jesus’ honor especially over against the “wickedness of the temple personnel.”32 Interpreters suggest various more specific symbolic meanings,33 including especially: (1) a sign that God no longer needs the temple and its rituals; (2) a sign of its coming destruction34 as predicted by Jesus (and so a divine riposte to the mockery of Jesus’ threat to the temple in v. 40); (3) a symbol of mourning (as in 2 Kgs 2:12) either for the death of Jesus or for the approaching end of the temple;35 (4) a sign of the opening of the way into God’s presence, hitherto closed by the cultic exclusion symbolized by the curtain (the symbolism developed by Hebrews);36 (5) an apocalyptic sign of “divine revelation triggered by the death of Jesus.”37 These levels of symbolism are not mutually exclusive: 1, 2 and 3 naturally go together; 4 offers the positive counterpart to 2; and the revelation proposed in 5 is in fact of a new “accessibility to God not seen since the Garden of Eden”, as in 4. Where the emphasis is placed depends on the interpreter’s more general understanding of Matthew’s theology of the temple and its replacement. In the light of the understanding of the Mount of Olives discourse outlined above, the tearing of the curtain suggests that as Jesus dies the transfer of authority from the old temple-focused régime (which has been responsible for his death) to the shortly-to-be-vindicated Son of Man is already taking place. The result will be that access to God will no longer be through the old, discredited cultic system but through Jesus himself, and more specifically through his death as a ransom for many.
52–53 This resurrection of dead people has no parallel in the other gospel accounts, and leaves plenty of unanswered questions for the historically-minded interpreter.38 Matthew gives us no explanation of the delay between the opening of the tombs and the appearance of the dead people in Jerusalem39 two days later, nor of what happened to them afterward. We can only speculate on what a cine-camera might have recorded, and on why the appearance of “many” dead worthies to “many” people left no other trace in historical sources. As with many of Jesus’ scientifically unexplainable miracles, Matthew is not interested in satisfying our natural curiosity or answering empirical scepticism. He tells the story for its symbolic significance.40
The “holy people who had died” are presumably to be understood as pious Jews,41 but we do not know whether Matthew is thinking of recent contemporaries or of well-known people from the OT period buried around Jerusalem.42 Several OT texts talk of resurrection for God’s people in some sense, the most explicit being Dan 12:2 and, probably, Isa 26:19.43 Matthew’s wording here especially calls to mind Ezek 37:13, “when I open your graves and bring you up out of your graves, my people” (note also the earthquake-like imagery in Ezek 37:7), though there resurrection is a metaphor for national restoration rather than a promise of personal life after death.44 Matthew explicitly links the resurrection of these unidentified people with that of Jesus, even though the earthquake which releases them occurs at the time of his death.45 His word order allows us to understand either that they did not come out of the opened tombs until after Jesus’ resurrection, or (rather less naturally) that they emerged immediately but remained outside the city until then (see p. 1073, n. 8). Either way there is some narrative awkwardness, but this makes it the more likely that we are meant to notice the sequence, “after Jesus’ resurrection.”46 His resurrection is the first, theirs the consequence (cf. 1 Cor 15:20–23; 1 Thes 4:14). In order to make this point, however, Matthew might more appropriately have linked this occurrence with the second earthquake which will reveal Jesus’ empty tomb in 28:2. That he nonetheless records it here, despite the difficulty of postponing their resurrection and/or appearance for two days after the earthquake, suggests that he sees Jesus’ death, not just his resurrection, as the key to the new life which is now made available to God’s people.
Cf. John 5:25–29 for the idea of an eschatological resurrection of the dead to be judged by the Son of Man, when “those in the tombs will hear his voice and will come out, those who have done good to the resurrection of life.” That eschatological event, says Jesus in John 5:25, “is coming and is now.” Albright & Mann, 351, regard Matthew’s scene as a “dramatization” of the Johannine saying.47
54 The soldiers whom Matthew has already described as “keeping watch” over Jesus on the cross (v. 36; the centurion in charge of the squad is here mentioned for the first time) can now be called on as witnesses to what it all means. Matthew’s inclusion of the other soldiers with the centurion provides a witness by “two or three” which is therefore valid (see on 18:16). They have seen and heard all that has gone on since then, including the mockery of Jesus as one who had claimed to be God’s son. The only event Matthew specifies here is the earthquake, which was presumably the primary reason for their terror—Matthew uses here the same strong expression as he used for the disciples, overwhelmed by the supernatural manifestation on the mountain (17:6). His further expression, “what had happened” might be taken to mean specifically the events linked with the earthquake, viz the tearing of the curtain and the resurrection of the dead, but historically speaking soldiers at Golgotha could not see the tearing of the temple curtain48 (as Matthew would presumably have known), and the resurrected dead will not be seen until after Jesus’ resurrection. Matthew’s phrase therefore more likely refers to the whole sequence of events at the cross, notably Jesus’ loud shout and the manner of his death (note Mark’s wording, “when the centurion … saw that he died in this way”). The earthquake explains their terror, but it was the whole scenario of Jesus’ crucifixion and death which triggered their “confession of faith.”49
The phrase “God’s son”50 would come more easily to a Gentile than to a Jew: in Greek and Roman religion gods often got involved in human affairs, and male gods had many children by human women. Divine or semi-divine properties could be credited to prominent men, and the Roman emperors were officially entitled “son of God.”51 So to these soldiers52 the phrase need mean no more than that Jesus was someone special—though even that, spoken about a condemned man who has just been shamefully executed, is remarkable enough. But as they stood on guard they have heard Jewish people, and even their religious leaders, mocking Jesus for having claimed to be God’s son (vv. 40, 43), and while they may have had little understanding of how momentous a claim this would be in a Jewish context, they have seen enough now to conclude that the truth is on the side of Jesus rather than of his mockers. This declaration thus represents a sharp volte-face: they recognize now that their own earlier mocking of the “king of the Jews” (vv. 27–31) was out of place.
Whatever the soldiers themselves meant by it, for Matthew’s readers this declaration is a climactic theological moment. God has twice declared that Jesus is his son (3:17; 17:5); demons have recognized him as such (4:3, 6; 8:29); Jesus has said so himself (11:25–27; cf. 24:36), has frequently referred to God as his “Father,” and has even on two occasions hinted publicly that he is God’s “Son” (21:37–39; 22:42–45); the disciples have hailed him as “God’s son” in a moment of crisis (14:33 a declaration very similar to this one), and Peter has included this title in his considered estimate of Jesus (16:16). But right up to the time of Jesus’ trial no human observer outside the disciple group has used such language of Jesus, and at the Sanhedrin hearing it has formed part of the basis of his condemnation (26:63), subsequently providing the ammunition for Jewish mockery of this preposterous claim (27:40, 43). Now, however, people right outside the community of faith have recognized and declared the truth, and so reversed that mockery, and the fact that they are not even Jews reinforces Matthew’s message that the new ekklēsia is not to be restricted to the children of Abraham. Like the other centurion we met earlier in the gospel, this officer and his men have displayed faith beyond that of “anyone in Israel” (8:10), and so they too represent the many who will come from east and west to join the Jewish patriarchs in the kingdom of heaven (8:11–12).53
5. Women Who Witnessed Jesus’ Death and Burial (27:55–56)
55Watching from a distance were many women who had followed Jesus from Galilee and looked after1 him. 56Among them were2 Mary the Magdalene and Mary the mother of James and Joseph and the mother of the sons of Zebedee.
This brief paragraph forms a bridge between the accounts of the death of Jesus and his burial, in that the women were witnesses of both. “Mary the Magdalene and the other Mary” will reappear in v. 61 and in 28:1, so that they form an important line of continuity through the whole process from death to burial to resurrection. They are therefore the guarantee that when the tomb is found to be empty there has been no mistake: these same women saw him die and saw where he was buried; they would not have gone to the wrong tomb. It will also be they who are the first to meet the risen Jesus in 28:8–10. So this short notice, introducing the focal characters of this latter part of the story of Jesus, deserves to be treated on its own, rather than either as an appendage to the account of Jesus’ death or as the introduction to the burial.
This paragraph is also important in that it supplies information which we have not hitherto been given about the make-up of Jesus’ entourage during the earlier part of the gospel. While a number of women have entered the story as the recipients of Jesus’ ministry, and one unnamed woman has shown her appreciation by anointing him in 26:6–13, the reader of Matthew (and Mark) up to this point could have imagined (apart from a hint at 12:50; see comments there) that the twelve male disciples who accompanied Jesus around Galilee and on his journey to Jerusalem were the only people closely associated with him. But now we find that there have also been “many women.” Luke 8:2–3 is the only account in the earlier synoptic narratives of such a group, but now we find that they have been there all along.3 And now that the male disciples have deserted Jesus (26:56), it is these women who have stayed to watch even when they are no longer able to help. In contrast with the soldiers who have direct access to the cross, the women must necessarily watch “from a distance;” the term here does not connote a lack of courage or identification (as in 26:58), merely the practical reality.
These women are not part of the Twelve, but they are described as having “followed” Jesus, a term which we have earlier seen to denote discipleship in the broader sense (see on 8:18–23).4 And as disciples they have literally “followed” Jesus all the way south from Galilee to Jerusalem; they must have been part of the traveling group in chs. 16–20 and of the noisy crowd of supporters in 21:1–9, even though the only one of them whom Matthew has mentioned so far has been the mother of the sons of Zebedee (20:20). Now we find that she was not alone as a female fellow-traveler. The description of these women as “looking after” him (and the Twelve?) suggests a sort of practical support group. Luke 8:3 uses the same verb of the women who were with Jesus in Galilee (again including Mary the Magdalene); Luke also adds that their practical support came out of their own possessions, and since at least one of them had influential connections (the wife of Herod’s steward) they may have included some quite wealthy supporters. Clearly any impression we have gained from the story so far of an all-male movement needs serious modification.
The names given for the women at the cross and the tomb vary between the four gospels. The one constant feature is Mary the Magdalene, who is also mentioned in Luke 8:2–3. Christian tradition has woven increasingly colorful legends around her, but all we know of her from the gospels is that Jesus had expelled seven demons from her (Luke 8:2), and that she came presumably from Magdala, on the north-west shore of the Lake of Galilee. “Mary the mother of James and Joseph” could be an oblique way of referring to Jesus’ mother (see 13:55 for her sons’ names),5 but few interpreters believe that Matthew would deliberately obscure her relationship to Jesus in that way, or would refer to Jesus’ mother simply as “the other Mary” in v. 61 and 28:1. Nor does the earlier mention of Jesus’ mother in 12:46–50 suggest that she was among those who followed Jesus in Galilee. James and Joseph were common names, and there were two Jameses among the Twelve (10:2–3). Mark’s phrase here, “the lesser James,” is usually taken to refer to that second James in distinction from the “greater” son of Zebedee; his brother Joseph6 is not mentioned elsewhere. Luke 24:10 refers simply to “Mary of James.” “The mother of the sons of Zebedee” is familiar to us from 20:20, but is not named by Matthew, and will not be included in the further mentions of the women in v. 61 and 28:1; she is probably to be identified with the Salome mentioned here by Mark; Salome, like Mary, was a very common name at the time.7
6. The Burial of Jesus (27:57–61)
57As evening came on,1 there came a rich man from Arimathea, called Joseph, who also himself had become a disciple of Jesus— 58this man came to Pilate and asked him for the body of Jesus. Then Pilate gave orders for it to be given2 to him. 59Joseph took the body and wrapped it in a clean cloth 60and put it in his own new tomb which he had cut in the rock; then he rolled a great stone against the entrance of the tomb, and went away. 61But Mary the Magdalene and the other Mary were3 there, sitting opposite the burial place.
The bodies of those who had died by crucifixion were often not given a proper burial, but left on the crosses to disintegrate or thrown on the ground to be disposed of by scavengers and natural decay. But Jewish piety objected to any body being left unburied (Deut 21:22–23), and so there was provision there for the burial of those executed (Josephus, War 4.317) in a common burial plot rather than in a family tomb.4 To provide proper burial for someone otherwise unprovided for was a valued act of charity (Tob 1:16–18); cf. the provision for the burial of “strangers” in 27:7. But the provision of a new, rock-cut tomb for Jesus was quite exceptional, and indicates that Joseph was motivated by more than conventional piety.5 It is, like the act of the woman who anointed Jesus in 26:6–13, a quite extravagant act of devotion.
Joseph is described throughout as acting alone. In his approach to Pilate, with the political risk involved, he may well have been alone, but he would need help for the practical process of taking down the body and preparing it for burial, and especially for the placing of the “great stone.” The singular verbs describe what Joseph caused to be done rather than his own agency (note that even the quarrying of the tomb is described as what Joseph did, in the singular). John 19:39–42 mentions Nicodemus as his collaborator, but as a rich man Joseph no doubt also had workers to do the manual work.
57 Matthew has not yet mentioned the day of the week, but will do so obliquely in v. 62 and again in 28:1. The other gospels confirm that the crucifixion took place on a Friday (Mark 15:42; Luke 23:54; John 19:31, 42), so that the sabbath would begin at sunset. The considerable work involved in removing and burying the body (and the purchase of the cloth and other necessities for burial) would be against conventional sabbath practice,6 and John 19:31 also mentions Jewish objections to having the bodies on display on the sabbath.7 So Joseph’s action would need to be completed by sunset (see p. 1087, n. 1). If Jesus died soon after the ninth hour, that leaves nearly three hours before the sabbath officially began—and indeed Joseph might have made his approach to Pilate before Jesus was actually dead.
In vv. 55–56 we have been introduced to a group of hitherto unmentioned disciples of Jesus. Now we meet another, from a more surprising background. Arimathea was a Judean town, probably some 20 miles north-west of Jerusalem, but Joseph himself had apparently settled in Jerusalem, where he had prepared a new family tomb. Only Matthew mentions that Joseph was “rich,”8 perhaps to echo Isa 53:9 (Hebrew, not LXX), “they made his grave … with a rich man.”9 As a wealthy man he was a prominent member of Jerusalem society, in fact according to Mark 15:43 and Luke 23:50 he was a member of the Sanhedrin. Matthew does not mention that last fact, and so has no need to explain how a “disciple” could be a member of the group who condemned Jesus (see Luke 23:51). He is accordingly more explicit10 in calling Joseph a “disciple” than is Mark (“expecting the kingdom of God”) or John (“a disciple of Jesus, but secretly for fear of the Jews”); his unusual use of the verb rather than the noun (literally “who had been discipled to Jesus;” cf. 28:19) reminds us of the “discipled scribe” in 13:52, one who has come into the Jesus movement from an unusual background. How did a prominent member of Jerusalem society come to be a disciple of the Galilean Jesus? It is possible that his “conversion” has taken place in the course of the last week, but perhaps more likely that this is another indication of the artificiality of the synoptic narrative outline, which brings Jesus to Jerusalem only in his final week; on the Johannine historical scheme Joseph could have been recruited on a previous visit to the south. At any rate, here is a rich man who has apparently surmounted the obstacle which his possessions place in the way of entry to the kingdom of heaven (19:22–26).
58 Matthew mentions neither the audacity involved in such an approach nor Pilate’s surprise at the speed of Jesus’ death (both points are included in Mark 15:43–45). It may have been an unusual request,11 and if Pilate really believed Jesus to be an insurrectionist it would presumably be dangerous to be publicly associated with him. But Matthew has made it clear that Pilate did not regard Jesus as guilty, and so does not mention the problem. Any objection to Joseph’s initiative was more likely to come from his Sanhedrin colleagues, but it is not they who must give permission to bury the body (though they will soon hear of it, see vv. 62–64). Matthew’s concern at this point is not with the “politics” of the situation but with the fact and the manner of Jesus’ burial.
59–60 To take down the body from the cross would probably need several people;12 if Joseph used his workers to do it (see introductory comments), this would not necessitate his personally touching the body and so contracting defilement for seven days (Num 19:11) just before the sabbath and the Passover festival. The burial, even if done hurriedly, is properly and respectfully carried out. Perhaps because he has already mentioned the anointing of Jesus “for burial” in 26:6–13, Matthew says nothing about the use of oils or spices either before the burial (John 19:39–40) or after (Mark 16:1; Luke 23:56–24:1). The “clean cloth” sounds more like a single shroud13 than the closely-wound bandages probably envisaged in John 19:40; 20:6 (cf. John 11:44), but the term is not very specific.14
There are many rock-cut tombs of the period in and around Jerusalem.15 Many are large family vaults with spaces for a considerable number of bodies,16 and Joseph, as a rich man, is likely to have had such a tomb quarried out for his own family.17 That he should be prepared to use it for Jesus is a mark of considerable loyalty, especially when it was “new,” which both Luke and John explain as meaning that no one had yet been buried there. The point is significant for apologetics, in that it makes it more difficult to explain the women’s discovery as due to mistaken identity: there was only one body in the tomb. A large stone was the normal way of sealing a tomb against robbers or animals; the door-stones which survive are usually shaped so as to roll against the low entrance18 and are large and heavy enough to require several men to move them. The apparently unnecessary comment that Joseph “went away” when he had done what was necessary both provides a contrast with the women who remained at the site and prepares for the sending of the guard to seal the tomb in v. 66.
61 The aorist verb which described Joseph’s departure in v. 60 contrasts with the imperfect which now describes the women as still there, watching;19 it might be paraphrased, “but the women stayed on there after he had gone.” See on vv. 55–56 for the identities of Mary the Magdalene and “the other Mary,” and for their role as witnesses providing continuity through the story of Jesus’ death, burial and resurrection. Presumably they left before the guard was posted the next morning; they will return in 28:1 once the sabbath is over.
7. The Guard at the Tomb (27:62–66)
62The next day, that is the day after the Preparation,1 the chief priests and the Pharisees made a joint approach to Pilate. 63“Sir,” they said, “we remember that while that impostor was still alive he said, ‘After three days I will be2 raised.’ 64So give an order that the burial place be made secure until the third day, so that his disciples cannot come and steal him and then say to the people, ‘He has been raised from the dead;’ that last fraud would be worse than the first.” 65Pilate replied, “You have3 a guard; off you go and make it as secure as you can.” 66They went away and made the burial place secure by putting a seal on the stone and placing the guard.4
The sealing of the tomb and the placing of an armed guard, mentioned only by Matthew,5 add to the dramatic triumph of Jesus’ resurrection despite every human precaution. This pericope, with its corresponding scene of reporting back in 28:11–15, also provides Matthew with a suitable final scene depicting the discomfiture of Jesus’ opponents in Jerusalem. They held all the cards of earthly power, including access to the Roman governor, but despite all their efforts they could not contain the Son of God. They will be last seen arranging a lying cover-up story, but by then Jerusalem will have become irrelevant to Matthew’s story, and the risen Jesus will be back in Galilee, commissioning his restored followers to begin a triumphant mission to all nations which will last to the end of time.
It is likely that Matthew included this story to counter rumors, still current in his day (28:15), that Jesus had not risen from the dead but that his body had been stolen by the disciples.6 This charge is spelled out both in the initial request of the Jewish authorities (vv. 63–64) and in their cover-up story after the event (28:13–15). Justin, Dial. 108, tells us that this charge was still being actively propagated in the middle of the second century;7 it was an obvious counter-move to Christian claims of Jesus’ resurrection. It is hardly likely that Christians would have invented such a convenient weapon for their critics if the story were not already in circulation.8
62 “The Preparation” means what we call Friday, so the day following it is of course the sabbath (as 28:1 will also confirm). Why then does Matthew use the cumbersome phrase “the day after the Preparation” when he could have said simply “the sabbath”? This would seem the more appropriate in that this pericope will depict the highest authorities of Judaism as acting or causing others to act in a way incompatible with their sabbath regulations (unlike Joseph, who has been careful to complete the burial before sunset). Matthew surprisingly does not draw attention to that embarrassing fact by mentioning the sabbath by name. His more oblique phrase may be because, on the chronological scheme I am following (see on 26:17), this was not an ordinary sabbath but also the day of the Passover meal, Nisan 15. In this year, therefore, the Friday was the day of preparation not only for the sabbath but also for the chief day of the festival, so that the phrase “the Preparation” does double duty.
The Pharisees have not been mentioned during the account of Jesus’ trial and death (though the “scribes” mentioned in 26:57; 27:41 represent the same ideological grouping, as ch. 23 has shown), but they reappear here (as in 3:7 and 16:1) in “coalition” with the largely Sadducean chief priests.9 It is in the interest of all the different factions of the Sanhedrin to prevent any spread of the Galilean heresy.
63–64 Jesus and his followers represent a dangerous deviation from Jewish orthodoxy. The terms “impostor” and “fraud”10 were to become important in later Jewish polemic against Jesus as one who “led Israel astray.”11 Here the “deceit” is not only in Jesus’ allegedly deviant teaching and false messianic claims,12 but also in the possibility of a faked “resurrection.” What made the authorities think of this? The only reference to “three days” at Jesus’ trial has been in reference to his alleged designs on the temple (26:61; cf. 27:40), and Jesus’ predictions of his resurrection “on the third day” have been spoken only in private to his disciples (16:21; 17:23; 20:19). Matthew may suppose that Judas had briefed the authorities on this claim, or perhaps that some version of Jesus’ more public statement (to scribes and Pharisees) about the sign of Jonah, with its “three days and three nights in the heart of the earth” (12:40), had found its way down from Galilee.13 But the form of the phrase here is closer to (though not identical with) those in 26:61 and 27:40; see comments on 26:61, where we considered the possibility that Jesus had used similar words about the future temple and his own resurrection, though if so Matthew (unlike John 2:19–22) has not told us of this.
The authorities’ fears focus (explicitly at least) not on the possibility that Jesus might actually rise from death, but on the opportunity for his disciples to cash in on such language to stage a fake resurrection (an explanation which they will continue to uphold even after the event, 28:13–15). A Messiah allegedly returned to life after being officially executed for blasphemy, will, they rightly perceive, be far more dangerous to their religious authority than Jesus had been while alive.
65–66 True to form, Pilate is not willing to accommodate their request—if the translation given above is correct. The Jewish leaders want Pilate to deploy his own troops,14 but he prefers to leave the responsibility to them; “you have a guard” refers to the Jewish temple guards (see on 26:47).15 It is their problem; let them take care of it with their own resources.16 The less natural alternative translation, “Take a guard” (see p. 1092, n. 3),17 would probably indicate that Pilate made a detachment of his own soldiers available,18 and the fear of punishment by the governor (v. 14) has led some to assume that this was so (but see comments there and on 28:11). But the fact that the guard will subsequently report back not to Pilate but to the priests (28:11), and that the governor’s hearing of their failure is mentioned only as a possibility (28:14), makes it more probable that it was the temple guards that were used.19 The sealing of the tomb20 is an additional precaution along with the presence of a guard who were supposed to maintain constant watch.
E. The Empty Tomb and the Risen Jesus (28:1–10)
1At the end of the sabbath,1 as it was becoming light on the first day of the week, Mary the Magdalene and the other Mary came2 to look at the burial place. 2And suddenly3 there was a great earthquake, for an angel of the Lord came down from heaven and coming to the tomb rolled away the stone and sat on top of it. 3His appearance was like lightning and his clothing white as snow. 4The guards4 were shaken with fear of him and became like corpses. 5But the angel spoke to5 the women and said “You6 need not be afraid, for I know that you are looking for Jesus who was crucified. 6He is not here: he has been raised as he said. Come here and see the place where he7 was laid. 7Then go quickly and tell his disciples, ‘He has been raised from the dead, and look, he is going ahead of8 you into Galilee; that is where you will see him.’ That is my message to you.”9
8The women quickly left10 the tomb with fear and great joy11 and ran to report to his disciples. 9Suddenly12 Jesus met them and said, “Hello!” But they came up to him and took hold of his feet and bowed before13 him. 10Then Jesus said to them, “Don’t be afraid. Off you go and tell my brothers to go away to Galilee; that is where they will see me.”
The accounts of the finding of the empty tomb in all four gospels display an intriguing mixture of agreement and independence.14 Negatively, all agree in refraining from giving any account of Jesus actually leaving the tomb (contrast Gos. Pet. 9–10 [34–42]), and simply report how the women found it already empty. Positively, all agree on an early morning visit to the tomb by one or more women (one of whom is Mary the Magdalene), on the tomb being empty, and on an encounter with an angel or angels,15 but each develops the narrative around these elements in different ways. Matthew’s account, as usual, follows a similar pattern to Mark’s, including the important instruction to the disciples to go to Galilee, but adds four distinctive features: the earthquake, the angel rolling away the stone, the effect on the guards, and the women’s meeting with Jesus himself on their way from the tomb. The first three of these are peculiar to Matthew; the last may be compared with the account of Mary the Magdalene meeting Jesus outside the tomb in John 20:14–17.16 Matthew’s account of the empty tomb is thus, like his account of the death of Jesus, more dramatic than Mark’s, and supplies the surprisingly missing element in Mark 16:1–8, an actual encounter with the risen Jesus.17
The action of the angel in removing the stone from the entrance to the tomb draws attention even more clearly than in the other gospels to the fact that Jesus has already left the tomb, while the stone was still in place.18 This is not an account of the resurrection of Jesus (as some editors still unaccountably describe it in their section headings), but a demonstration that Jesus has risen. We are not told at what point between the burial on Friday evening and the opening of the tomb on Sunday morning Jesus actually left the tomb, though the repeated “third day/three days” language (and even more the “three days and three nights” of 12:40) presuppose that he was in the tomb for most of that period. What matters to the narrators is not when or how he left, but the simple fact that now, early on Sunday morning, “he is not here.” (v. 6)
All the gospels stress the significance of the women19 as the first witnesses of the empty tomb. This is hardly likely to be a fictional invention, in a society where women were not generally regarded as credible witnesses,20 especially as the singling out of the women for this honor detracts from the prestige of the male disciples. We have seen how 27:55–56 and 27:61 have prepared the ground for the women’s role as guarantors of the reality of the resurrection. It is now through them that the male disciples are to hear the news and to receive the instructions of their risen Lord. But in Matthew (and in John with regard to Mary the Magdalene alone) their privilege is even more pronounced, in that it is they who are chosen to be the first to meet with the risen Jesus himself. The male disciples must wait until they get to Galilee (and even then some will “doubt,” v. 17), but he reveals himself to the women even in Jerusalem. It is Luke rather than Matthew who is generally regarded as placing special emphasis on the contribution of women to the origins of Christianity, but here Matthew gives them a place of honor which not even Luke can envisage (Luke 24:22–24).21
1 As in 27:62, Matthew’s note of time is awkwardly expressed. The two expressions, which literally mean something like “late on the sabbath”22 and “as it was dawning into the first day of the week,” seem to point in opposite directions, the first to the sabbath evening around sunset, the second to the following sunrise. They would be more coherent if the “day” were understood to begin at sunrise rather than, as on normal Jewish reckoning, at sunset, but such a use would be unique in Matthew. It seems most likely however that, oddly as he has expressed it, Matthew refers, as the other three evangelists clearly do in different ways (Mark 16:2; Luke 24:1; John 20:1) to early on Sunday morning, as it was getting light.23 The purpose of the women’s visit, “to look at the burial place,” sounds rather colorless,24 but Matthew has chosen not to mention their intention to anoint Jesus’ body (Mark 16:1; Luke 23:56–24:1), perhaps because the anointing has already been done in advance (26:12; see comments on 27:59–60) but also because access to the tomb, already barred by the stone, has in his account also been precluded by the sealing and the guard.
2–4 The earthquake, like that of 27:51, adds to the drama of the scene, and to the sense of divine intervention (see on 27:51). But whereas in 27:51 it was apparently the earthquake that opened the tombs, here the removal of the stone from Jesus’ tomb is attributed not to the earthquake but to the direct action of an angel. Indeed Matthew’s connective “for” suggests that the quake is itself the result, or at least the context, of the angel’s coming, so that emphasis falls on the angel rather than the earthquake. The same phrase “an angel of the Lord” is used here as in 1:20, 24; 2:13, 19, and here, as there, the angel is not identified as either “the angel of the Lord” or a particular named angel such as Gabriel (see p. 52, n. 43). In chs. 1 and 2, the only other place where an angel plays a narrative role in Matthew (though plural “angels” appear in 4:11), the angel is seen or heard in dreams. Here however the angel is presented as robustly physical, rolling a huge stone, sitting on it, and visible not just to the women but also to the guards. The visual description in v. 3 recalls that of other supernatural beings as seen by humans, e.g. in Dan 10:5–6 (and cf. the description of God in Dan 7:9); Rev 1:13–16; 1 En. 62:15–16; 71:1; 87:2; see further above on 17:2.25 A being of such awesome power and authority is not to be obstructed either by the size and weight of the stone or by the official seal, still less by a detachment of terrified guards. The repetition of the verb “were shaken” which described the earthquake of 27:51 (and its cognate noun is used in v. 2) vividly depicts their terror; for the simile “like corpses” to depict human reaction to a supernatural appearance cf. Dan 10:8–9; Rev 1:17; 4 Ezra 10:30. Note the irony that those assigned to guard the corpse themselves become “corpses,” while the one they guarded is already alive. The attempt at human security has been neutralized, and the guards play no further part in the scene until they have to report back in vv. 11–15.26
5–6 The angel ignores the guards, and speaks directly to the women, for whose sake he has apparently come, so that they can see inside the already empty tomb and carry the message to Jesus’ disciples. They, unlike the guards, have no need to be afraid. We have not been told of their reaction, but presumably they too were in awe of the supernatural visitor (“fear” will be mentioned again in v. 8); but the angel reassures them as Jesus had reassured the disciples at the equally numinous experience of the transfiguration (17:7) and will himself reassure the women in v. 10. The poignant description of Jesus as “the one who has been crucified” leaves no room for doubt of the real death of the one who is now alive again. But the absence of his body from the place where it had been (as the women knew, 27:61) shows that his resurrection is no less real and physical than his death. It is explained simply by the fufillment of Jesus’ repeated predictions that he would “be raised,” using the same verb as in 16:21; 17:9, 23; 20:19; 26:32 (cf. also 27:63, 64). Note that it is assumed that the women, no less than the male disciples, have been privy to Jesus’ predictions about his own destiny; for their membership of the “disciple” group on the journey to Jerusalem see on 27:55–56. However little they may have understood what he meant at the time27 (see on 16:21), now that the event has given substance to his words, they have them in their memory as a frame of reference for understanding this unprecedented occurrence.
7 The women are not only themselves the witnesses of the empty tomb, but also the chosen messengers to convey the amazing news to Jesus’ male disciples.28 Note the assumption that, despite their “scattering” (26:31) in Gethsemane, the disciples will still be found together as a group. The same verb for “being raised” is now supplemented with the phrase “from the dead”29 to indicate that this is not just a metaphor. Jesus is no longer a corpse; he does not belong among “the dead.” The women are to remind the disciples of Jesus’ bold promise in 26:32, the words of which are here closely echoed: “he is going ahead of you into Galilee.” But now the corollary of his “going ahead” is spelled out: when they get to Galilee they will see him—not just an empty tomb but a living Jesus. But, unlike the women (v. 9), the male disciples must wait until Galilee before they can see him.
The angel’s final words to the women (see p. 1069, n. 9), literally “Look, I have told you,” are reminiscent of the frequent OT formula, “The Lord has spoken” (Isa 1:2; 25:8; Joel 3:8 etc.) or “I, the Lord, have spoken” (Num 14:35; Ezek 5:15, 17, etc.). The formula marks an authoritative pronouncement (perhaps even that the angel speaks for God),30 and also functions now as a call to action. The message has been delivered, and now it is up to the women to act on it.
8 The combination of fear (in the face of supernatural reality) and joy (at the message of Jesus’ triumph over death) is typical of the resurrection stories. The contrast with Mark’s enigmatic final verse31 is striking. In each case the women run away from the tomb in fear, but whereas in Mark the fear is unrelieved and the message remains undelivered, in Matthew there is also “great joy” and the women run to pass on the angel’s message to the disciples. Perhaps, as I suggested in n. 17, Mark’s original plan (or his lost original text) was to counterbalance the fear and silence with joy and an obedient report. At any rate, Matthew has realized that the matter cannot be left where it is at Mark 16:8. Even without the further instruction from Jesus in v. 10, the women are already on their way to deliver their message.
9 The first of Matthew’s two accounts of appearances of the risen Jesus (the other will be in vv. 16–20) is surprisingly low-key, though another dramatic kai idou prepares us for something remarkable. To say simply that “Jesus met them,” when the last we saw of him was as a corpse sealed in a tomb, is a masterly understatement, and his greeting, Chairete, “Hello,” is almost banal in its everyday familiarity.32 Jesus is with his friends again. The women’s response, of course, is less matter-of-fact. To take hold of the feet is a recognized act of supplication and homage (Mark 5:22; 7:25; Luke 17:16). Such an act requires a low posture, and it is possible that proskyneō, which we have seen elsewhere to denote homage or obeisance to someone of superior social status or authority (see p. 59, n. 3 and p. 303, n. 6; for obvious examples of this social usage see 18:26; 20:20), means only that they bowed down in order to touch Jesus’ feet. But the element of “worship” which is also strongly built into the usage of this verb in Matthew (see especially 4:9, 10; 14:33) is surely also prominent here, as it will be in the meeting of the male disciples with the risen Jesus in 28:17. You do not simply offer conventional politeness to someone just raised from the dead. There is an interesting contrast between the women’s taking hold of Jesus’ feet, apparently without being repulsed, and his instruction to Mary not to touch him (or to let go of him?) in John 20:17. The Johannine prohibition is explained by speaking of Jesus’ future ascension to heaven, but that is not a theme which Matthew will take up. The women’s touch, like the invitation to touch him and the eating of food in Luke 24:39–43, demonstrates to the reader the physical reality of Jesus’ risen body: he is not a ghost.
10 Jesus’ words largely repeat the reassurance and the message given to the women by the angel in vv. 5–7. The result of this repetition is that the importance of the coming meeting in Galilee is further underlined, so that the reader is well prepared for the climactic scene of the gospel in vv. 16–20. But, in addition to the fact that this time the message comes direct from Jesus himself, rather than through an intermediary, there is one significant new element, the description of the male disciples as “my brothers” (as in John 20:17). The concept itself is not new; cf. 12:46–50; 25:40.33 But now it follows the abject failure of the Twelve to stand with Jesus when the pressure was on, a failure which was hardly less shameful because Jesus had predicted it in 26:31. But now it is time for the second half of that prediction also to be fulfilled (26:32), and that Galilean meeting will eventually restore the family relationship which they must surely have thought had come to an end in Gethsemane.
F. Last Glimpse of Jerusalem: The Priests Cover Up (28:11–15)
11As the women were going away,1 some of the guard went into the city and reported to the chief priests all that had happened. 12The chief priests got together with the elders and formed a plan:2 they gave a good sum of money3 to the soldiers 13and said, “Say, ‘His disciples came in the night and stole him while we were asleep.’ 14And if this comes to the governor’s ears, we will make it alright with him, so that you will not need to worry.”4 15So they took the money, and did as they had been taught. And this story has been spread around among people in Judea5 to this very day.
This little pericope rounds off the story of the guard which Matthew introduced in 27:62–66.6 Having been no more than passive spectators when the angel appeared and the tomb was opened (vv. 2–4), they must now account for the failure of their watch. The very thing they were posted there to prevent (27:64) has happened. The cover-up story which the priests and elders concoct as a result then enables Matthew to explain the current charge of grave-robbing which we noted (in the introductory comments to 27:62–66) as the likely reason for Matthew including the guard in his account at all. It is because this story is still current in Jewish circles, as a counter-measure to Christian preaching of Jesus’ resurrection, that it is important for Christians to put the record straight. But at the same time the fact that the priests must resort to this lie underlines that the tomb really was empty; even the priests cannot deny that fact.
But the overall structure of Matthew’s narrative gives a further significance to this short cameo. It is in Jerusalem that Jesus has been rejected and killed, as he had predicted, but with his resurrection that part of his story is now over. It will be far to the north in Galilee that the final phase of the story will begin in v. 16. But before the scene transfers to Galilee, we are given a last glimpse of the discredited Jerusalem régime, as the guards report back in “the city.” The chief priests and elders who have seemed to hold all the cards and who have so smugly celebrated their triumph over the northern prophet (27:41–43) are now in total disarray. Their careful plans to get rid of the new Galilean movement have unraveled, and they are left with an embarrassing failure to explain. The best thing they can do is to concoct a cover-up story, backed by bribes to the guards and, if necessary, also to the governor. So the last view we have of Jerusalem is of its leaders engaged in a sordid face-saving exercise, while the women are summoning Jesus’ disciples to meet their risen Lord back in the home territory of Galilee. Jerusalem, which has throughout the gospel been a symbol of opposition to God’s purpose and of judgment to come, can be left to wallow in its own discomfiture, while the reader turns with relief to Galilee, the place where once again light is dawning (4:14–16).
11 The opening clause invites the reader to compare two groups hurrying away from the tomb with a message to deliver (the same verb for bringing news, apangellō, is used in vv. 8, 10 and 11): the women have a message of hope and victory for the disciples, the guards one of confusion and failure for the priests. That the guards report back not to the governor but to the priests strongly suggests that they were Jewish temple guards, not a Roman platoon (see above on 27:65–66). It is only a possibility that the governor will get to hear of what has happened (v. 14), whereas if they had been troops responsible to him there was no way this could be avoided and indeed they would have been obliged to report to him themselves. The willingness of the guards to take orders from the priests about what they are to say, and to accept their money as a bribe, also suggests Jewish rather than Roman soldiers.
12–13 The cover-up story is devised by the chief priests together with the elders, who have been mentioned frequently in Matthew as the natural allies of the priests in planning the elimination of Jesus (26:3, 47; 27:1, 12, 20); they have been mentioned as “plotting together” (see p. 1103, n. 2) in 26:4; 27:1, 7. The two groups together represented the power structure focused on the temple to which Jesus had been so obvious a threat, so that it is in their interests to collaborate in a damage-limitation exercise now that their plan has backfired. The story invented is what they had already envisaged, and tried to prevent, in 27:64. Now that something much worse has happened, it is better to pretend that their plan to thwart Jesus’ disciples had failed than to admit the reality of the resurrection they knew his disciples would now claim as fact.7 But, quite apart from the implausibility of the guards being able to know what happened while they were asleep, for soldiers to admit to sleeping on duty would be at least a serious loss of face, and would normally have been a basis for disciplinary proceedings against them. In this case, however, it was their own employers who required them to make the admission, knowing it to be untrue, so that an adequate bribe would suffice to offset the damage to their reputation as guards.8 This is the second time the priests and elders together have been prepared to pay money to protect their interests, cf. 26:15.
14 But the guard had been set up with the governor’s knowledge, if not his direct approval, so that if he heard about it he might be expected to treat such failure, even by Jewish guards, as a matter for discipline. Since they were not Pilate’s troops, the priests hope that it may be possible for him to be kept in the dark, but they know their man well enough to be confident that if necessary he can be kept happy with a further bribe.9 If these had been his own soldiers it is not likely that he could have been bribed to ignore a capital offense (see p. 1105, n. 8), but a failure by local troops not directly under his command need not concern him overmuch.
15 Note the ironical use of the verb didaskō, “teach”—the guards’ story has been put into their mouths; what the priests and elders “teach” is only a self-serving lie (contrast the “teaching” of Jesus and his disciples, v. 20). The fact that the story is spread among Jewish people is further indication that it was Jewish temple guards who were spreading it, not Roman soldiers. Matthew has used Ioudaioi only in the phrase “king of the Ioudaioi” (2:2; 27:11, 29, 37), where in each case it is spoken or written by non-Jews. See above on 27:11 for the question whether it means Jewish people in general or more specifically Judeans. I have suggested there and in 2:2 that non-Jewish speakers are less likely to have been aware of the significance of regional differences. But here the term is used editorially, by an author who has shown throughout that the distinction between Galilee and Judea is not only very familiar to him but also a matter of some importance. In this context, where the falsehood being spread in Jerusalem contrasts with the proclamation of truth which is about to be launched in Galilee in vv. 16–20, it is likely that Matthew uses the term in its stricter geographical sense: this was a southern propaganda campaign, based in Jerusalem.10 For Justin’s assertion that this story was still in circulation in the second century see above p. 1093.
VI. Galilee: The Messianic Mission Is Launched (28:16–20)
16The eleven disciples went to Galilee, into the hills1 where Jesus had told them to go.2 17And when they saw him they worshiped him; but some were hesitant. 18Jesus came to them and spoke to them: “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. 19So go and make disciples of all the nations, baptizing them into the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, 20teaching them to keep all that I have commanded you; and look, I am with you all the time until the end of the age.”3
In the geographical scheme which we have seen to be central to Matthew’s planning of his book (see above, pp. 2–5) this final short paragraph plays a crucial role, which justifies its being set apart as a final main section of the narrative structure. The movement from north to south which has formed the underlying plot of the gospel since 4:12 is now suddenly reversed, so that the story is concluded where it began, in the hills of Galilee. The geographical shift has been well signaled in advance (26:32; 28:7, 10), and brings the narrative to the satisfying conclusion which is so conspicuously absent from Mark’s otherwise comparable narrative structure.4 The extended period of confrontation and rejection in Jerusalem, which ended in the apparent triumph of the opposition, is now relegated to the past. Jesus the Galilean has triumphed against all the odds, and back in his home territory (and that of his disciples) where the mission was originally launched, the good news of the kingdom of heaven is sent out in a proclamation which will continue until the “end of the age.” There is about this Galilean ending something of the triumphant and hope-filled akōlytōs, “without hindrance,” with which Luke concluded his account of Christian origins (Acts 28:31).5
But it is not only the geographical setting that enables Matthew’s final paragraph to give his story such a sense of completeness. In these few words many of the most central themes of the gospel reach their resolution and culmination. The preparation of the Twelve as Jesus’ task-force, which had apparently ended in irreversible disaster in 26:56, is now resumed as they (or rather eleven of them) are restored to their position of trust and responsibility and given the final instructions for fulfilling the mission for which they were originally called in 10:1–15. Jesus himself, risen from the dead, is now revealed in all his glory as the vindicated and enthroned Son of Man, a status which he has hitherto spoken of only as a future expectation, but which has now become a reality. The proclamation of good news with which the narrative began (3:2; 4:17), but which has been in abeyance during the last few chapters as Jesus has been locked in conflict with his enemies in Jerusalem, can now be resumed. But now its scope is far wider: it is no longer a mission simply to the “lost sheep of Israel” (10:6; 15:24) but to all the nations, as Jesus had already predicted in 24:14 (cf. 26:13). The almost imperceptible mustard seed is now about to grow into a mighty tree; the kingdom of heaven is to be established over all the earth. The baptism which John had originally instituted as a symbol of a new beginning for repentant Israel (3:1–12) is now to be extended to people from all nations. And at the heart of this new community of faith is the risen Jesus himself, as he had said he would be (18:20): they are to be his disciples, obeying his commandments, and sustained by his unending presence among them. This new international community will be his ekklēsia (16:18), because it is he who now holds all authority in heaven and on earth (an authority greater than that which he was initially offered by Satan and refused, 4:8–10); see below on v. 18 for the culmination of the theme of kingship. And, perhaps most remarkably of all, the human Jesus of the hills of Galilee is now to be understood not as the preacher and promoter of faith, but as himself its object. The unprecedented formula for the baptism of new disciples links the Son with the Father and the Holy Spirit in a single “name.” Throughout the gospel there have been hints, and more than hints, that Jesus is more than just a human preacher, or even a Messiah. He is related to God as Son to Father, and in different ways Matthew has allowed us to see him acting with divine authority; in his coming, God has come to visit his people.6 Now the inclusion of the title “the Son” (cf. 11:27; 24:36; 26:63–64) in the “name” of the God to whom disciples owe allegiance brings this paradoxical trajectory to its most explicit point. It is thus entirely appropriate that the last words of Jesus in this gospel, “I am with you all the time until the end of the age” echo the title with which he was first introduced in 1:23, “Immanuel—God with us.”7
I hope this brief attempt to survey some of the threads which are woven together into Matthew’s concluding paragraph gives some idea of why so many interpreters have spoken of these last five verses as the key to understanding Matthew’s whole gospel.8 Theologically one may read back from this final scene to illuminate the significance of much that has been said and done in earlier chapters. But from a literary and aesthetic point of view it is far more satisfying to read the story as Matthew has presented it to us, to follow the unfolding revelation of the Son of God and to share with the crowds and with his disciples the growing awareness that something of much greater significance is taking place than they had at first imagined, and so to come at last to this final pericope in which all the strands have come together, and the triumph of the Son of Man who is also the Son of God can at last be openly and fearlessly proclaimed.9 Note the word “all” repeated four times in vv. 18–20; here all the partial glimpses of Jesus’ universal authority are brought together in a final comprehensive declaration. For the reader who has carefully followed the journey this far the only appropriate response is to join the eleven disciples in worship and obedience to the Lord of heaven and earth, to play one’s own part in the proclamation of the good news of the kingdom of God to all the nations, and to revel in the assurance that despite the worst that a hostile world can offer, “I am with you all the time until the end of the age.”
Jesus’ final words in this gospel are often referred to as “the Great Commission,” and scholars have pointed out how closely this scene resembles, in its overall sense and content if not in detail, the commissioning narratives which occur throughout the OT where God’s often reluctant and inadequate servants are sent out to fulfill his purpose with the assurance of his empowering and his presence to go with them; such stories are told notably of Abraham, Moses, Joshua, Gideon, Samuel, Isaiah and Jeremiah.10 Such stories mark the beginning, not the end, of that person’s service, and that is how it is here for the disciples. I have always enjoyed the fact that the ceremony which marks the end of seminary training, and which we in Britain call “Graduation”, is in America often known as “Commencement.” For the disciples, and for Matthew’s readers, this conclusion is in fact a beginning, a commencement.
16 For “the eleven disciples” at this period between the Last Supper and the election of Matthias cf. Luke 24:9, 33; Acts 1:26. The Twelve, minus Judas, have apparently remained together despite their earlier “scattering” (26:31, 56). They have remained in Jerusalem long enough to receive the women’s message (vv. 7, 10), but then have set off back home to Galilee (as they would in any case have done after the festival). But as a result of the women’s message this is not the dejected return of a defeated group but an expectant journey to fulfill a rendezvous. The phrase “where Jesus had told them [to go]”11 is sometimes taken to mean that he had prearranged a specific place, but 26:32; 28:7, 10 have spoken only in general terms of “Galilee,” and the place is described now only by the broad term “into the hills.”12 They are returning to the general scene of their earlier Galilean activity, perhaps to a favorite and familiar place, but probably more likely waiting for the risen Jesus to take the initiative and meet with them, as he had with the women, once they are in the area indicated. There is no more reason here than in 5:1; 14:23 and 15:29 to suppose that eis to oros denotes a specific mountain. If that had been Matthew’s intention the following clause would have been better expressed by a relative pronoun (“the mountain which …”) rather than by the adverb “where.”
17 Even though they have come here to meet the risen Jesus, the meeting when it happens brings a divided reaction from the disciples. While proskyneō here may well include its less specifically religious sense of bowing before a person (see above on v. 9), there is little doubt that here Matthew intends the full sense of “worship,” implying that Jesus is now recognized as more than human—cf. the same verb used of the disciples with the exclamation “You are the Son of God” in 14:33. The disciples have had several days to get used to the idea of Jesus’ resurrection and are expecting to meet him, so that their reaction should not be one of bewilderment: they know what they are seeing. It is therefore the more surprising to read that “some were hesitant.” The suggestion that these are people outside the group of the Twelve13 is improbable in the context. Matthew has very specifically limited the number of people present to eleven, and has mentioned no additional group whose reaction may be contrasted with that of the eleven. Moreover, if the conjunction hoi de, “but some,” were intended to denote a separate group it would naturally be preceded by hoi men; coming as it does after a clause describing the reaction of the eleven as a group but without men, it is best understood as introducing a counter-current within that group, affecting some but not all of them.14
So what sort of “hesitation” was this?15 The verb distazō occurs only once elsewhere in the NT,16 where it describes Peter’s loss of confidence in the face of the elements in 14:31; interestingly there too the “hesitation” is linked with “worship.” (14:33) It denotes not intellectual doubt so much as practical uncertainty, being in two minds.17 In this context it could indicate that some were not sure whether it was Jesus they were seeing18 (cf. the recognition problem in Luke 24:16, 31–32, 37; John 20:15; 21:4–7), but there is no such uncertainty in the other resurrection appearance Matthew records (vv. 9–10), and they are expecting to meet Jesus (see above). More likely it indicates that they did not know how to respond to Jesus19 in this new situation, where he was familiar and yet now different;20 cf. the bewilderment and fear of the three disciples who witnessed the transfiguration (17:1–7). Luke similarly refers to uncertainty and disbelief when the disciples met the risen Jesus (Luke 24:38, 41), as does John most famously with regard to Thomas (John 20:24–29). But a further factor may be relevant here: the last time these eleven disciples had seen Jesus was as they ran away from him in Gethsemane; so what sort of reception could they now expect from the master they had deserted? The conflicting instincts to worship the risen Jesus and to avoid a potentially embarrassing encounter make very human sense in this context.21
18 Jesus’ declaration and commission which will conclude the gospel are introduced not by a simple “Jesus said” but by a combination of three verbs: he “came to” them, “spoke to” them, and “said.” This rather fulsome introductory clause not only emphasizes the climactic role of this speech but also responds to the disciples’ hesitation: Jesus’ “coming to” his frightened disciples is an act of reassurance (as in 17:7; see comments there for the use of this verb in Matthew), he “speaks to” them to restore the broken relationship (as his words via the women have already indicated, v. 10), and the words he will now utter will leave their failure far behind, swallowed up in the much greater reality of the mission to which they are now called. The disciples themselves speak no words in this final scene, where the focus falls fully on Jesus himself; their role is to listen, to understand and to obey.
“All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me” echoes Dan 7:14, “To him was given dominion and glory and kingship, that all peoples, nations and languages should serve him,” a kingship which is to be everlasting and indestructible; there will be further echoes of Dan 7:14 in the mission to “all the nations,” v. 19, and in Jesus’ powerful presence until “the end of the age,” v. 20.22 Jesus has spoken several times, using the language of Dan 7:13–14, of the future sovereignty of the Son of Man (16:28; 19:28; 24:30–31; 25:31–34; 26:64);23 three of those passages have indicated that that sovereignty would be achieved in the near future, to be seen by those then alive (16:28; 24:30–34; 26:64; cf. also 10:23). But now what has been a vision for the future, albeit the imminent future, has become present reality. The risen Jesus, vindicated over those who tried to destroy him, is now established as the universal sovereign, and his realm embraces not only the whole earth which was to be the dominion of the “one like a son of man” in Daniel’s vision but heaven as well. At the beginning of the gospel Satan offered Jesus sovereignty over the whole earth, but his offer was refused (4:8–10); now Jesus, going the way of obedience to his Father’s will even to the cross, has received far more than Satan could offer. He has spoken already in 11:27 of “everything entrusted to me by my Father;” now that authority is fully spelled out—indeed Jesus himself now possesses the authority that he attributed to his Father as “Lord of heaven and earth” in 11:25. It is this universal sovereignty that is the essential basis of the commission which is to follow in vv. 19–20, and thus of the continuing life of the disciple community until the end of the age.24
Here at the end of the gospel, then, we find the culmination of the theme of kingship which was introduced by the Davidic royal genealogy (1:1–17), developed in the magi’s search for the “king of the Jews” and the political threat to Herod in ch. 2, adumbrated in the developing language of Messiahship, and dramatically enacted in Jesus’ royal ride to Jerusalem (21:1–11); since then Jesus’ alleged claim to kingship has been a matter of accusation and mockery (27:11, 29, 37, 42), but now the true nature of that kingship is revealed. It stands far above local politics and extends far beyond the people of Israel. It is the universal kingship of the Son of Man, which has emerged as a distinctive feature of Matthew’s presentation of Jesus: 13:41; 16:28; 19:28; 20:21; 25:31–34.25
19 Jesus’ vision of the future heavenly enthronement of the Son of Man in 24:30 led naturally into a mission to gather his chosen people from all over the earth (24:31). The first part of that vision is now achieved (v. 18), and so the second part can begin. But the agents of this ingathering are not now to be the angels (though their unseen presence may be presumed to be part of the divine strategy) but those who are already Jesus’ disciples. In the first instance that means the eleven men there in the Galilean hills, but as their numbers are increased (and already we have been given hints of a larger number of committed disciples; see on 27:55, 57) the mission will be extended more widely until “all the nations” are included in its scope.
The phrase panta ta ethnē, “all the nations,” has occurred already in 24:9, 14; 25:32, to denote the area of the disciples’ future activity, the scope of the proclamation of the “good news of the kingdom,” and the extent of the jurisdiction of the enthroned Son of Man. In each case we have seen that the emphasis falls positively on the universal scope of Jesus’ mission rather than negatively on “Gentiles” as opposed to Jews. Some have argued for such a restrictive sense here, and have suggested that Matthew has reached the point of giving up on the Jewish mission and urging the church to go instead to “all the Gentiles.”26 But nothing in the text indicates that;27 the suggestion depends on the fact that ta ethnē can mean Gentiles as opposed to Jews (as in 6:32; 10:5, 18; 20:19), but that is a specialized use which does not apply to all Matthew’s uses of ethnos,28 and is most unlikely when ta ethnē is qualified by panta, “all.”29 The commission is of course to go far beyond Israel, but that does not require that Israel be excluded.30 If the Jewish writer Matthew had intended to say that to his probably largely Jewish Christian readers he would surely have made it explicit. “The Gentile mission extends the Jewish mission—not replaces it; Jesus nowhere revokes the mission to Israel (10:6), but merely adds a new mission revoking a previous prohibiition (10:5).”31
The commission is expressed not in terms of the means, to proclaim the good news, but of the end, to “make disciples.”32 It is not enough that the nations hear the message; they must also respond with the same whole-hearted commitment which was required of those who became disciples of Jesus during his ministry (see e.g. 8:19–22; 19:21–22, 27–29).33 The sentence structure is of a main verb in the imperative, “make disciples,” followed by two uncoordinated participles, “baptizing,” “teaching,” which spell out the process of making disciples.34
The order in which these two participles occur differs from what has become common practice in subsequent Christian history, in that baptism is, in many Christian circles, administered only after a period of “teaching,” to those who have already learned. It can become in such circles more a graduation ceremony than an initiation. If the order of Matthew’s participles is meant to be noticed he is here presenting a different model, whereby baptism is the point of enrolment into a process of learning, which is never complete; the Christian community is a school of learners at various stages of development rather than divided into the baptized (who have “arrived”) and those who are “not yet ready.”35
This is the first mention of baptism in Matthew since John’s baptism (and Jesus’ acceptance of it) in chapter 3. There has been no indication that those who followed Jesus were baptized (unless they had already been baptized by John), and Jesus has spoken of John’s baptism as if it were a distinctive rite, not one which he and his disciples had continued (21:25). Moreover, the baptism which John predicted Jesus would bring was not with water but with the Holy Spirit and fire (3:11). Yet now the full-blown rite of Christian baptism is introduced without any indication that this is something new. For Matthew’s readers it was presumably so familiar as to need no explanation, but its sudden appearance right at the end of the gospel is surprising in the narrative context. We know from Acts and the letters of Paul that baptism in the name of Jesus was the unquestioned initiation rite of the post-Easter church (Acts 2:38, 41; 8:12, 36–38; Rom 6:3–4; 1 Cor 1:13–17 etc.), but it is hard to suppose that the practice emerged fully-formed at the first Christian Pentecost. Was it then this instruction by Jesus that first launched Christian baptism, or should we take note of the assumption in John 3:22–26; 4:1–2 that from the beginning the Jesus movement adopted John’s practice of water-baptism, even though after that point it receives no further mention in the gospel narratives? I have argued elsewhere that the latter is the more likely scenario.36 In that case the lack of explanation of baptism here (and of how water-baptism relates to baptism with the Holy Spirit and fire) is to be explained by the fact that, despite Matthew’s earlier silence on the subject, the practice was already familiar to the disciples.
Baptisms in Acts are said to be in (or into)37 the name of Jesus (Acts 2:38; 8:16; 10:48; 19:5; 22:16; cf. Rom 6:3; Gal 3:27) and there is no other reference in the NT to a trinitarian baptismal formula, though this was well established by the time of Did 7:1, 338 (cf. Justin, Apol. I, 61:3, 11, 13). In view of the gradual movement within the NT toward trinitarian (or at least triadic) forms of expression, with the three persons mentioned in a variety of orders, the wording here in Matthew draws attention as more formally corresponding to later patristic formulations than might be expected within the NT period, let alone in the words of Jesus himself. If Jesus had put the matter as explicitly as this, it is surprising that it took his followers so long to catch up with his formulation. There is, however, no evidence that this is not an original part of the gospel of Matthew,39 so that at least the formula must correspond to what Matthew knew of Christian baptism, and therefore presumably to the accepted practice of his church (which may be related to that reflected in the Didache). What process led from baptism simply in the name of Jesus to the acceptance of this fuller formula, and how widely it was followed by the time Matthew wrote, can only be a matter of speculation.40 It is not impossible that Jesus did mention Father, Son and Holy Spirit together, perhaps originally not to lay down a liturgical formula so much as to spell out the three-fold nature of disciples’ allegiance.41 But such a memorable phrase prescribed by Jesus himself, in direct connection with baptism, would so naturally lend itself to liturgical use that it is surprising that the “in the name of Jesus” form prevailed for so long. It is more likely that Matthew here expresses Jesus’ instructions in terms which would be taken for granted in his own church but which, while consonant with the teaching of Jesus, would not yet have crystallized into their later formulation at the time he initially sent his disciples out to baptize.42
The debate about the origin of the formula must not distract the reader from recognizing what a profoundly important theological step has been taken here. It is one thing for Jesus to speak about his relationship with God as Son with Father (notably 11:27; 24:36; 26:63–64) and to draw attention to the close links between himself and the Holy Spirit (12:28, 31–32), but for “the Son” to take his place as the middle member, between the Father and the Holy Spirit, in a three-fold depiction of the object of the disciple’s allegiance is extraordinary. The human leader of the disciple group has become the rightful object of their worship. And the fact that the three divine persons are spoken of as having a single “name” is a significant pointer toward the trinitarian doctrine of three persons in one God.
20 Hitherto in Matthew’s narrative it has been Jesus who has been the “teacher.” But now the verb “teach” is used with the disciples as subject, marking the decisive change which follows Jesus’ death and resurrection.43 But even so their duty of teaching derives from the authority of the risen Lord (v. 18).44 So they are to teach not their own ideas, but what Jesus has “commanded,” entellomai, a term which hitherto has been especially associated with the “commandments” (the cognate noun entolē, cf. 5:19; 15:3; 19:17; 22:36–40) given by God through Moses.45 The basis of living as the people of God will henceforth be the new “commandments” given by Jesus.46 Not that these are necessarily opposed to the commandments of the OT, but as we have seen in 5:17–48 Jesus’ teaching has given a new interpretation to the old law, and it is by obedience to his words that salvation is henceforth to be found (7:24–27). To be a disciple is to obey Jesus’ teaching.47
But the presence of Jesus himself among his people (cf. 18:20) ensures that it is not simply a relationship of formal obedience. In context this assurance is focused not on the personal comfort of the individual disciple but on the successful completion of the mission entrusted to the community as a whole. In OT commissioning scenes the assurance of God’s presence was to empower his often inadequate servants to fulfill the task he had called them to (Exod 3:12; 4:12; Josh 1:5, 9; Judg 6:16; Jer 1:8; cf. also the angel sent with the Israelites in Exod 23:20–23). So here it is to the commissioned disciples as they set about their daunting task that the divine presence is promised, without which they cannot be expected to succeed. But the difference now is that it is not God himself who promises to be “with” them,48 still less an angel sent by him, but the risen Jesus, who has just been declared to stand alongside the Father and the Holy Spirit in heavenly sovereignty. In the Fourth Gospel Jesus promises the continuing presence of the Spirit with his disciples after he has left them (John 14:16–17, 25–26; 16:7), but in Matthew the presence is that of Jesus himself. And this is not simply for a short-term objective, for the mission they have been given will keep them (and their successors) busy to “the end of the age.” Jesus’ physical presence with his disciples was limited to the period of his earthly life-span, but the spiritual presence of the risen Jesus has no such limitation: it is as an eternal, divine being that Jesus will be among his obedient people, “God with us.”