Tag: Law

A prophet, a righteous person, and a little one (Matt 10; Pentecost 5A)

This Sunday, the lectionary offers a Gospel passage of just three succinct verses (Matt 10:40–42). In those verses, three key terms are used Jesus: prophet, righteous one, and little one. “Whoever welcomes you welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me,” Jesus asserts (Matt 10:42), before he proceed to extend this saying to include those who welcome a prophet, a righteous person, and “whoever gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones in the name of a disciple”. In each case, a reward is certain, says Jesus.

The last of these sayings, about “one of these little ones”, links these verses with the saying of Jesus he spoke after the disciples had been arguing about “who was the greatest”. This saying is reported in the triple tradition (Mark 9:33–37 and parallels in Matt 18 and Luke 9). In that scene, Jesus took a child in his arms and said, “whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me” (Mark 9:37; Matt 18:5; Luke 9:48).

Matthew here reports an expanded version of that saying, which is applied directly to the disciples. He begins by reversing Mark’s saying, taking the end of that version by referring initially to all the disciples: “whoever welcomes you”, before extending this to include “welcoming me” (10:40).

The disciples represent Jesus as “the one who sent me”, namely, God. This last phrase, found in the three Synoptic versions of this saying, is a favourite Johannine phrase for God (John 1:33; 6:44; 7:28; 8:26, 29; 9:4). The Johannine version of this saying is “whoever receives one whom I send receives me; and whoever receives me receives him who sent me” (John 13:20). That is very similar to the version that Matthew reports.

However, Matthew extends his version of Mark’s saying still further by adding “whoever welcomes a prophet”, then “whoever welcomes a righteous one” (10:41), before concluding with “whoever gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones in the name of a disciple” (10:52). The “little one” is presumably equivalent to “the child” which had begun Mark’s saying.

Jesus’ other saying about “the little ones” appears in all three Synoptic Gospels. The saying is highly likely to be authentic, if we adopt the classic form-critical criteria that were developed some decades ago. One marker of authenticity is for a saying to be hard, difficult, or unexpected. Jesus instructs his disciples, “if any of you put a stumbling block before one of these little ones who believe in me, it would be better for you if a great millstone were hung around your neck and you were thrown into the sea” (Mark 9:42; Luke 17:2; Matt 18:6).

This is a shocking, confronting instruction. It is undoubtedly a hard saying. In Mark 9, that shocking statement is extended regarding a hand or a foot or an eye causing a person to stumble; “it is better for you to enter life maimed … lame …[or] with one eye”, he advises (Mark 9:43-48). So Jesus is strenuously advocating for “the little ones”, and giving them a cup of water (Matt 10:42) is an essential act of discipleship.

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We have seen, then, that Matthew has inverted the order he received from Mark and extended the comparison he makes about welcoming a person who comes in his name. Adding the prophet to this saying (10:41) brings in another dimension to the story.

One line of interpretation that has been proposed intrigues me. Could these sayings reflect the on-the-ground nature of the earliest period of the movement that Jesus initiated? He had called disciples to follow him (4:18-22; 9:9), warned people of the difficulties that this would entail (8:18–22), selected an inner group to be designated as “emissaries—translating the Greek apostoloi (10:1–4), and commissioned them to proclaim the nearness of God’s presence in this world (10:5–15).

Jesus then warned these emissaries of the dangers that lay in store for them (10:16–25) and encourages them with the words, “do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul” (10:26–31), assuring them that “everyone who acknowledges me before others, I also will acknowledge before my Father in heaven” (10:32–33). The short lectionary passage brings the whole “mission discourse l (10:1–42) to a close. These words encapsulate the commission and the anticipated experience of the disciples.

How were the followers of Jesus to implement this? Gerd Theissen, a German New Testament scholar, has proposed that the message of Jesus was spread by itinerants within the early Jesus movement who travelled from village to village with their message. They were dependent on those who received them for hospitality and lodging, in literal obedience to what Jesus had told his disciples (Mark 6:10–11). They were living in complete obedience to “the Son of Man [who] has nowhere to lay his head” (Matt 8:20; Luke 9:58).

Evidence for such itinerant preachers can also be found in the Didache, which instructs: “Whosoever, therefore, comes and teaches you all these things that have been said before, receive him … Let every apostle that comes to you be received as the Lord. But he shall not remain except one day; but if there be need, also the next; but if he remain three days, he is a false prophet. And when the apostle goes away, let him take nothing but bread until he lodges; but if he ask money, he is a false prophet.” (Didache 11:1, 4–6).

The reference to prophets in Matthew’s account of the words of Jesus resonate with this portrayal of the early church. Receiving a prophet and welcoming them (providing them with hospitality—food, drink, and shelter) is affirmed, for the prophet comes as a representative of Jesus (10:41).

Throughout the story of Israel, the prophet has been the one who, literally, “speaks forth”; so the prophets sent by Jesus proclaim the message that “the kingdom of heaven has come near” (Matt 10:7). The prophets proclaiming this message, as prophets did in earlier times, accompany their message with acts that manifest the truth of what is proclaimed: “cure the sick, raise the dead, cleanse the lepers, cast out demons” (10:8).

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Matthew also adds a saying about receiving “a righteous one” 10:42). This is language which is very important to Matthew. The word dikaios, translated as righteous, refers to a person who adheres carefully to the prescriptions of Torah, who is faithfully trusting God, who follows the ways that God sets out, who contributes constructively to society so that it functions in a just and equitable way.

Torah and righteous-justice are linked in Jewish understanding. The psalmist, characteristically, places them in synonymous parallelism, when they sing, “your righteousness is an everlasting righteousness, and your law is the truth” (Ps 119:142). The prophet Habakkuk, lamenting the “destruction and violence” that surrounds him as the Babylonian army presses into Jerusalem, observes that “the law becomes slack and justice never prevails; the wicked surround the righteous—therefore judgment comes forth perverted” (Hab 1:4). The two go hand-in-hand.

Matthew reflects this close connection between Torah and righteous-justice, as he presents Jesus as being completely faithful to Torah. In reporting his baptism, only Matthew has Jesus declare to John, “it is proper for us in this way to fulfill all righteousness” (3:15). In beginning the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus declares blessed “those who hunger and thirst for righteousness” (5:6) and “those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake” (5:10).

Jesus follows this by announcing his intention to intensify the demands of the Law (5:18) by demanding that his followers exhibit a righteous-justice that exceeds that demonstrated by the Pharisees (5:20). Only Matthew reports these words of Torah fidelity, and only Matthew has the various parables which affirm “the righteous” over against those who disobey the law (13:36–43; 13:47–49; 25:31–46).

Matthew presents Jesus as thoroughly Jewish, for he knows that God is righteous, as is declared in scripture (Deut 32:4; Ps 145:7; Job 34:17). The psalmists regularly thank God for God’s righteousness (Ps 5:8; 7:17; 9:8; 33:5; 35:24, 28; 36:6; 50:6; etc) and note the importance of humans living in that way for righteousness (Ps 18:20, 24; 85:10–13; 106:3, 31; 112:1–3, 9).

The book of Proverbs advises that the wisdom it offers is “for gaining instruction in wise dealing, righteousness, justice, and equity” (Prov 1:3) and the prophets consistently advocated for Israel to live in accordance with righteousness (Hos 10:12; Amos 5:24; Isa 1:22; 5:7; 28:17; 32:16–17; 54:14; Jer 22:3; Ezek 18:19–29; Dan 9:24; 12:3; Zeph 2:3; Mal 4:1–3; Hab 2:1–4).

So welcoming a righteous one is welcoming a person who follows, intensely and faithfully, the way that Jesus sets out, the way of God’s righteous law—just as welcoming a prophet is welcoming one who faithfully and persistently declares the message of that righteous law. That is the measure of faith that Matthew sets out in this saying. That is the intensity that the Jesus of Matthew presents.

Matthew: tax collector, disciple, apostle, evangelist—and “scribe trained for the kingdom”? (Matt 9; Pentecost 2A)

At last! This coming Sunday, we return to Gospel passages in sequence, drawn from the book of origins—the Gospel attributed by tradition to Matthew. None of the four Gospels in the New Testament originally gave any indication as to who wrote those works; it was up to the evolving tradition within the early church to infer, claim, deduce, and assign specific authorship—either to apostles (Matthew and John) or to close followers of apostles (Mark, following Peter, and Luke, following Paul).

This year—Year A—we began with the early chapters of the Gospel according to Matthew (from 2:1 through to 5:37); but when the season of Lent began, the Gospel readings were taken largely from John, with John and Luke featuring during the Sundays after Easter. Only now, after Trinity Sunday, does the sequential pattern resume.

This coming Sunday, we will hear the story of the call of Matthew the tax collector (Matt 9:9–13) as well as the interlinked account of the healing of a haemorrhaging woman along with the raising of a young girl from death (9:18–26). The story of the call of Matthew is told with a somewhat astringent sparseness. “He said to him, ‘Follow me.’ And he got up and followed him.” (9:9). That’s it. No fuss, no fanfare. Just plain and simple, straight to the point: follow me—and he followed him.

This first Gospel, in the order that the four Gospels appear in the New Testament, bears the name of Matthew. It wasn’t the first written Gospel—that was Mark’s, which clearly was a source used by the author of Matthew’s Gospel. By tradition, the attributed author of this Gospel, Matthew, was a tax collector whom Jesus called to follow him. (Why a tax collector who followed Jesus would take the work of a junior and erratic follower as the basis for his work, remains unexplained.)

At any rate: after this tax collector became a disciple of Jesus, he was appointed as an apostle, and later he allegedly wrote an eye-witness account of the time he spent with Jesus. That account runs up until the crucifixion and burial of Jesus, and is wrapped around with some opening chapters about the beginnings of the life of Jesus, and a closing chapter relating to the body of Jesus, his resurrection and departure from his followers.

The tradition that this first Gospel was an eye-witness account by one of the twelve apostles has come under careful scrutiny from biblical scholars, exploring the language, structure, imagery, and ideas found in that narrative.

The consensus from this scholarly work is that the first Gospel in the New Testament was not an eye-witness account, but a carefully crafted account of Jesus, originating in a community of people who had maintained their Jewish culture and practices whilst affirming that Jesus of Nazareth was the long-awaited Messiah—a community that was, therefore, in conflict with the views and teachings of the synagogue leaders in their town, who did not see Jesus in that way.

Within ecclesial tradition, the picture of Matthew, tax collector—disciple—apostle, who subsequently wrote an eye-witness account of the time he spent with Jesus, holds sway. Within biblical scholarship, Matthew is simply a character who appears briefly in the story told by the first Gospel in the New Testament.

Matthew is identified in one short verse narrating his call by Jesus (Matt 9:9). He is also included in the list of twelve who were called to be apostles, with the added descriptor, “the tax collector” (Matt 10:3). He is also named in three other books, with nothing further said about him (Mark 3:18; Luke 6:15; and Acts 1:13). But little else about him is conveyed in the four books that name him. See

What do we know about who wrote the New Testament Gospels? (1)

Those five fleeting references are the only times we see directly this person in the biblical narratives. He is surely there in other scenes, but he simply blends into the collection of “the disciples” (Mark 2:23; 3:7; 5:31: 6:1, 35, 41, 45; 7:17; 8:1–10, 14, 27, 34: 9:14, 28, 31; 10:10, 13, 23–24; 11:19; 12:43; 13:1; 14:12–16; and Synoptic parallels), “the twelve” (Mark 4:10; 6:7; 9:35; 14:20; and Synoptic parallels; and John 6:66–71; 20:24), or, even more anonymously, into “the crowd” (Mark 2:4, 13; 4:1; Matt 7:28; 13:2; Luke 5:1; 6:17; 7:11–12; 8:4; John 6:2; 12:9, 12; Acts 1:15; 2:6; etc.).

And yet, in the evolving church traditions, Matthew emerges from the shadows to take centre stage as disciple, apostle, saint, and author of the Gospel which is placed first in the New Testament. Some churches even maintain the patristic claim that Matthew wrote in Aramaic, and was later translated into the Greek version that forms the basis of the New Testament text.

The claim about Aramaic comes from a fourth century report by Eusebius of Caesarea that a second century bishop, Papias of Heirapolis, claimed that Matthew “put the logia in an ordered arrangement in the Hebrew language (Ἑβραΐδι διαλέκτῳ), but each person interpreted them as best he could” (Eusebius, Ecclesiastical History 3.39.16). We should note that this is a somewhat indirect witness at quite some remove, and also that the Greek word Ἑβραΐδι can be translated either as Hebrew or as Aramaic.

But this claim falls down from the clear evidence of the Greek text of Matthew’s Gospel, which mirrors very closely both the Gospel of Mark, at many points, and the Gospel of Luke, at other points, in passages found only in Matthew and Luke.

The two key conclusions drawn by many scholars are twofold: first, that Matthew (like Luke) used the Gospel of Mark as a basis for writing a narrative about Jesus—but modified and adapted both the order and wording of passages; and second, that Luke and Matthew had access to another source (whether oral or written) for many of the sayings of Jesus (the source is known as Q). This makes it completely unlikely that Matthew wrote, in Aramaic, or in Hebrew, the earliest account of Jesus.

And ascribing the authorship of this Gospel to the tax collector identified at Matt 9:9 is also a patristic move. The title of this (and the other) Gospels, identifying the alleged author, is found only in later manuscripts and patristic writings; the narrative itself fails to identify anyone as the author, let alone the tax collector named Matthew. This claim is a later apologetic move, most likely made to provide an “apostolic authorisation” to the Gospel.

See

What do we know about who wrote the New Testament Gospels? (2)

So what do we say, then, of “Matthew”, the purported author of this Gospel, a work which the author declares at the start to be “the book of origins of Jesus, Messiah” (Matt 1:1)? For me, a key to the way that the author of this “book of origins” operated is provided at Matt 13:52, where Jesus concludes a sequence of parables with the statement that “every scribe who has been trained for the kingdom of heaven is like the master of a household who brings out of his treasure what is new and what is old”.

That description encapsulates very clearly, for me, who the author of this Gospel was—a scribe, “trained for the kingdom”, drawing on old resources, but reshaping them so that they are seen to be new. We can see this in many ways in the narrative that he constructs. We can especially see this in the way he presents Jesus as an authoritative teacher of Torah—the one whose words are to be heard, remembered, studied, and passed on. Thus, the reason for his writing of this Gospel.

In this Gospel, we are offered a distinctive, at times unique, portrayal of Jesus. Only in this Gospel does Jesus affirm that all of “the law and the prophets” stand, are not to be annulled, and indeed have been “fulfilled”, or given new life and meaning, by what Jesus teaches (Matt 5:17–20).

So the encounters between Jesus and his disciples, and the scribes and Pharisees, at various moments in the narrative (9:2–8, 10–13; 12:38–42; 15:1–20; 16:1–4; 19:3–9; 21:15–16; 22:34–46) inevitably revolve around differing interpretations of Torah prescriptions and include regular references to (Hebrew) scriptural passages.

Jesus debates the way that the scribes and Pharisees interpret Torah; he meets them on their terms, and engages in these debates in accordance with “the rules” of scripture interpretation. Far from abandoning the Torah, he rather keeps the commandments, valued as “what is old”, and provides distinctive insights and understandings, “what is new”, as he intensifies and radicalises them. (“You have heard it said …”, hard enough; “but I say to you …”, an impossible counsel of perfection?)

In this Gospel alone, Jesus affirms “the scribes and the Pharisees” as those who “sit on Moses’ seat” and teach well—but fail to live by that teaching in their lives (23:1–3). Accordingly, Jesus not only teaches how to live by the law, with a ferocious intensity (5:21–48; 23:13–36), but he puts his teachings into practice; he maintains the old but fills it with new meaning. All of this lies ahead in the passages that will be proposed by the lectionary over the coming months.

“How can anyone be born after having grown old?” The questions of Nicodemus (John 3; Lent 2A)

The Gospel reading for this coming Sunday (John 3:1–17) is set in a house in the dark at night, as a prominent named male member of the Jerusalem Sanhedrin engages in conversation with a teacher from Nazareth, discussing faith and life. As Jesus engages with him, the conversation moves through a series of phases, going deeper into the issues raised. It’s a carefully-crafted literary piece—as, indeed, are all the encounters that Jesus has in the first half of John’s book of signs.

The conversation proceeds by means of a standard narrative technique: a question is posed, an answer is offered, leading to a further question, another response, and still further question-answer interchanges. This is an age-old technique used in teaching and in story-telling. It was also a standard aspect of the way that teachers of the Law operated in ancient Israel.

So the Pharisee of Jerusalem poses the question to the teacher from Nazareth: “How can anyone be born after having grown old?” and follows this immediately with a second question, “Can one enter a second time into the mother’s womb and be born?” (3:4). The reason for such a misunderstanding is that the Greek word used, anōthen, can be understood as “again” or “anew”, but can also be understood as “above”. In fact, “above” is by far the more common sense in which it was used. But the author has the teacher of Nazareth use this word, opening up a deliberate misunderstanding.

This misunderstanding, in turn, lead on to a response from the teacher (3:5) which digs deeper into the issues. Being born “from above” is akin to being born “of water and spirit”—or, it is possible to translate this, “of water and breath”. The Greek word placed on the lips of the teacher, pneuma, can refer to wind or breath—or spirit. Once again, a misunderstanding arises, giving opportunity for further exploration and instruction (3:5–8).

After the response from the teacher, the Pharisee asks a further question, “How can these things be?” (3:9)—to which the teacher from Nazareth responds, in the time honoured fashion (answer a question with another question), “Are you a teacher of Israel, and yet you do not understand these things?” (3:9-10). Touché!!

After this, the teacher from Nazareth launches into a longer explanation in response to the questions posed by the Pharisee of Jerusalem—an explanation which continues on for some time (3:11–21), leaving many commentators to wonder, just where does the conversation with the Pharisee from Jerusalem end, and where does the interpretive narrative of the evangelist take over? The Pharisee of Jerusalem has managed to draw from the man from Nazareth a teaching of some substance and significance.

This extended final section of the scene (3:11–21) contains clear evidence of the literary craft of the person who is telling the story. There are typical dualisms included in what the teacher says; he contrasts “earthly things” with “heavenly things”, “ascending into heaven” with “descending from heaven”, “perish” with “eternal life”, “condemn” with “save”—and, once again, “light” and “darkness”, a duality first expressed in the opening verses of the Gospel (1:4–9).

It also sets these dualisms into a pattern of parallel clauses, some of which provide a synonymous parallelism—two similar ideas placed in parallel (3:14; 3:19–20), some of which have antithetical parallelism—two contrasting ideas placed in parallel (3:12; 3:16–17; 3:18; and 3:20–21). Notice that this means that the final three verse of this section have an interweaving of both synonymous and antithetical parallelism, bringing the whole speech to a tight conclusion. “Coming to the light” is what Jesus desires, rather than “loving darkness”.

This is in fact the trajectory that Nicodemus has begun in this passage—the trajectory will continue on beyond into later sections of the Gospel. He has moved from an initial enquiry, through to a deeper pondering about what Jesus is saying. So this conversation has demonstrated a movement from the starting point, through a process that will ultimately lead to a clear expression of faith in in Jesus. We are left wondering, here in chapter 3: has the Pharisee become a disciple of the teacher from Nazareth?

The Pharisee of Jerusalem, we are told later in this Gospel, followed through after his initial conversation with the teacher (John 3)—in fact, he supported him in a debate in the Jerusalem council (John 7), and after the teacher had died, he publicly joined in the task of anointing his body and laying it to rest (John 19). His belief in what this teacher had taught, was now clear for all to see.

The Pharisee of Jerusalem had taken risks, explored his faith, and made significant changes in his life. He is a named high-status follower of Jesus, at least according to this particular Gospel, and his name is remembered throughout Christian history, by believers across the world: Nicodemus.

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In the Synoptic Gospels, it is Joseph of Arimathea who requests the body of Jesus from Pilate, and secures a safe place as the resting place for the body. In John’s Gospel, he does this in company with Nicodemus (John 19:39).

Joseph was “waiting expectantly for the kingdom of God” (Luke 23:51)—a phrase that recalls the discussion reported in John 3 (see verses 3 and 5). This “kingdom of God” was the very same phrase that is key to the preaching of Jesus in Mark and Luke. So Joseph was firmly aligned with Jesus and with his followers in Luke’s Gospel, whilst Matthew directly reports that he was “a disciple of Jesus” (Matt 27:57).

When Nicodemus first encounters Jesus, he had engaged in what might be characterised as an appreciative enquiry with Jesus, under the cover of night (3:2), presumably so that he didn’t “out” his interest in what Jesus was teaching. Some chapters later in John’s narrative, as Jesus experiences intensified opposition whilst in Jerusalem for the Festival of Booths (7:1–13), and the Pharisees and temple authorities join forces to send the temple police to arrest him (7:32), Nicodemus appears once more. The temple police return the temple, saying that they will not arrest him (7:45–46).

Nicodemus steps in; he is introduced as the one who “had gone to Jesus before, and who was one of them”—that is to say, one of the disciples (7:50). He speaks boldly: “our law does not judge people without first giving them a hearing to find out what they are doing, does it?” (7:51). The dismissive reply of the Pharisees further aligns him with Jesus; “surely you are not also from Galilee, are you?” is their rejoinder (7:52). His allegiance is clear, at least in the minds of the Pharisees, if not also the narrator of the Gospel.

Nicodemus returns a third time, after the death of Jesus, when the body of Jesus is requested by Joseph of Arimathaea, who is here clearly identified as being “a disciple of Jesus, but secretly, for fear of the Jews” (19:38). The fear of the Judean authorities has been a recurrent motif in John’s narrative (5:1; 7:13; 9:22; here, and 20:19). (The term I translate as “Judean authorities” is most commonly rendered as “Jews”, but this translation is too wide and does not accurately reflect the way the term is used in John’s Gospel.)

See further on “the Jews” at

Raise up a (new) temple: Jesus and “the Jews” in the fourth Gospel (John 2; Lent 3B)

Once again, Joseph is identified as a disciple of Jesus (John 19:38; so also Matt 27:57, and, as we have argued above, that is the implication in both Mark 15 and Luke 23). Both Joseph and Nicodemus, we might presume, were numbered among the “many, even of the authorities, [who] believed in him”, but who, “because of the Pharisees, did not confess it, for fear that they would be put out of the synagogue” (12:42).

The manner in which the body of Jesus is removed from the cross into the grave, anointed with an extravagantly large amount of spices, myrrh and aloes and wrapped in linen cloths “according to the burial custom of the Jews”, and placed in a previously unused tomb (19:38–40), reflects the tender, respectful approach of these two of Jesus’s disciples.

See more on Joseph at

Joseph of Arimathea: rich and righteous, devout and a disciple of Jesus.

So the Pharisee of Jerusalem is a character of some significance in John’s book of signs; he traces a pathway which the author hopes that those who hear his story or read his book will also follow, for “these are written so that you may come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through believing you may have life in his name” (20:31). It’s a most appropriate story, and relevant invitation, for the season of Lent.

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On what we know historically about the Pharisees, see

On the Pharisees: “to help the people to understand the Law”