Helping ordinary people learn to study the Bible
Merry Christmas! As you reflect on the birth of our Lord Jesus, consider what lessons Jesse Johnson would have us take from Jesus’ genealogy in Matthew 1:
This then is the advent hope found in a genealogy: that the savior will be born in an unusual circumstances, that he will be the savior of sinners who respond to him in faith, and that this message will go to the world.
There are parts of the Bible I’ve read so many times that I’m prone to mistake familiarity with them for understanding of them. But once in a while, when I set my familiarity aside, I can take a look at what’s actually there. This happened to me recently in a study of Luke 5.
At the end of the chapter, the Pharisees get upset with Jesus and his disciples for not fasting like either John or the Pharisees themselves. Part of Jesus’ response is a straightforward parable:
He also told them a parable: “No one tears a piece from a new garment and puts it on an old garment. If he does, he will tear the new, and the piece from the new will not match the old. (Luke 5:36)
The issue (the problem with my familiarity) is that I’ve spent years of my life studying Mark’s version of this story. This is the first time I’ve taken a close enough look at Luke’s account to realize that Luke is saying something quite different from Mark. Check out Mark’s version:
No one sews a piece of unshrunk cloth on an old garment. If he does, the patch tears away from it, the new from the old, and a worse tear is made. (Mark 2:21)
And just for the sake of completeness, here is Matthew’s version:
No one puts a piece of unshrunk cloth on an old garment, for the patch tears away from the garment, and a worse tear is made. (Matt 9:16)
Matthew and Mark are very similar. They talk about cutting an “unshrunk” garment to make a patch for an old garment. The problem is that the new patch will subsequently shrink and tear away from the torn garment, making the original tear far worse.
But Luke is using the same cast of characters to tell a completely different story. He speaks of ripping up a new garment to fix an old one. The problem here is twofold: 1) You’ve ruined a perfectly good (and new) garment, and 2) the fix won’t even match the original.
Why does this matter? What really is the difference between them?
Matthew and Mark are concerned with the damage to the old garment, while Luke is more concerned with the damage to the new garment.
The epiphany for me was simply to realize I was assuming Luke was telling the same parable as Mark. I needed a jolt to actually look at the text and observe the bare facts of Luke’s presentation. It is so easy to assume I know what a story says. And the unfortunate result of that assumption is that I stop looking!
As for how this affects interpretation: I’m not exactly sure yet, but perhaps you have some ideas. It’s surely related to the extra line Luke adds, which is not found in any other gospel: “And no one after drinking old wine desires new, for he says, ‘The old is good.’ (Luke 5:39).” The problem here is that the new thing is damaged to the point of being perceived as undesirable in comparison to the old thing. And this is a little different from the way Matthew and Mark present the situation.
Perhaps you’re already more familiar with Luke’s version, and it’s difficult for you to see what Mark/Matthew has to say. Either way, it’s another example of the danger of hasty harmonization. Let’s make sure to grasp the particular point each author seeks to make, and not lump them together, presuming they’re communicating the same thing!
The latest issue of Tabletalk magazine has a helpful article by Tim Witmer on Matthew 7:1. Witmer tackles the popular usage of the phrase “Don’t judge” and shows it to be a misuse of the verse’s context. Of course this verse is not saying that we shouldn’t make moral judgments about people!
However, Witmer also avoids excusing an attitude of judgmentalism among believers in Jesus Christ. Correlation with other Scripture passages clearly denounce any attitude of superiority or invulnerability.
Witmer’s point could be further strengthened by an analysis of the train of thought in Matthew 7:1-12. His article is a good example of why context matters.
Perhaps you’ve heard that not everyone who calls Jesus “Lord” will enter the kingdom of heaven (Matt 7:21). And that Jesus will blindside such folks on the last day when he claims not to have known them, and he commands them to depart from him (Matt 7:23). Have you ever feared finding yourself among that number of woefully deluded souls?
Context matters. When we learn to read the Bible properly—and not merely as a collection of isolated quotes or arbitrary threats—we’ll find that some of our most familiar sayings have more nuance or qualification than we typically assume.
The warning Jesus issues near the end of his Sermon on the Mount is, in fact, rather sobering. Anyone unmoved by it ought to be the first to fear:
“Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but the one who does the will of my Father who is in heaven. On that day many will say to me, ‘Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name, and cast out demons in your name, and do many mighty works in your name?’ And then will I declare to them, ‘I never knew you; depart from me, you workers of lawlessness.’ ” (Matt 7:21-23)
It is clear that calling Jesus “Lord” is not enough, on its own, to gain a person entry into the kingdom of heaven. Neither is speaking prophesy, nor casting out demons, nor doing mighty works in the name of Jesus.
And these facts ought not surprise anyone who has read the Bible.
So the warning is real, and particular examples can be given. But what does the warning mean, and who exactly should tremble at it?
In the preceding paragraph, Jesus sets an expectation that his community, his kingdom on earth, will consist of a number of wolves dressed up like sheep. These are what he calls the “false prophets” (Matt 7:15).
Jesus says two times that “you will recognize them by their fruits” (Matt 7:16, 20). The nature of the fruit matches the nature of the tree. Good fruit comes from good trees. Grapes come from vines. Thorns come from thorn bushes. You can’t pick up a fig and conclude it came from a thistle.
And the trees that fail to bear good fruit will be cut down and thrown into the fire (Matt 7:19). This is exactly what John said when describing the coming judgment (Matt 3:10b).
So the argument goes like this: The new community of Jesus will have false prophets within it. You will recognize them by their fruits, which prove what sort of tree the person is. And the unfruitful tree will be burned.
This paragraph demands a “so what” question: So what kind of fruit signals that one presenting as a sheep is in fact a wolf? What exactly is the fruit of a false prophet?
Matt 7:21-23 begins to answer that question by explaining what we are not looking for. Jesus thereby flips the question around. Instead of defining the fruit of a false prophet, he first defines what is not the fruit of a true sheep:
Such fruit does not guarantee that the apparent sheep is an actual sheep. There could still be a wolf lurking underneath the wool dressing gown. They are called “false prophets” for a reason!
So we look to the next (and final) paragraph of the Sermon to get the answer we’ve been looking for.
“Everyone then who hears these words of mine and does them will be like a wise man who built his house on the rock… And everyone who hears these words of mine and does not do them will be like a foolish man who built his house on the sand.” (Matt 7:24, 26)
Here is now something observable. Does the person not only hear Jesus’ words, but do them? This is the mark of a true sheep. Does the person only hear his words but not do them? This is the mark of a wolf in sheep’s clothing.
And the “doing” he refers to cannot be the “doing” of theatrical rituals, such as naming Jesus’ name, speaking prophecy, or casting out demons. The “doing” almost certainly refers back to everything Jesus has covered in this Sermon.
Being poor in spirit, meek, peacemaking, etc. (Matt 5:2-16). Honoring God’s law from the heart and not merely outwardly (Matt 5:17-48). Avoiding ostentation in the practice of piety (Matt 6:1-18). Seeking the kingdom instead of money and possessions (Matt 6:19-34). Living generously and graciously in community (Matt 7:1-12).
These are the folks, the true sheep, who “enter by the narrow gate,” which is hard but leads to life (Matt 7:13-14).
And they know how to recognize the “many” who try entering through the wide gate that leads to destruction. The fruit of the false prophets is the outward exercise of religion divorced from the personal and private transformation of the heart to love God and love his people.
If this warning from Jesus doesn’t cause you to tremble, you are most likely in danger from it. Please re-examine whether your religion is any deeper than outward conformity to a set of public practices. If your life doesn’t change when you hear this word of Christ, yours will be a pitiable case on the day of judgment.
But if your heart quails at the thought of ever missing your Lord Jesus and his kingdom, you’re probably already well on your way down that narrow road toward eternal life (Matt 5:3-6).
Context matters.
Thanks to Bonnie S for the idea for this post.
For more examples of why context matters, click here.
Perhaps you’ve heard that Jesus will heal all your sickness and disease, if you would only have faith that he will do so. Since Jesus healed every sick person who came to him while he was on earth, surely he will do the same for sick people who come to him while he is in heaven. Jesus still bears the wounds that now heal us.
In this post, I’m not able to tackle the full ideology of faith healing, nor do I intend to discuss whether we ought to expect miraculous healings to continue taking place today. These are complex issues that warrant complex treatment. But in this post I will deal one small part: the common appeal to Isaiah 53:5 to support expectations of physical health and healing.
Context matters. When we learn to read the Bible properly—and not as a collection of unqualified personal promises to which we turn in our moments of need—we’ll find that some of our most famous mantras take us in a different direction.
I’d like to address Isaiah 53:5 from three angles. The first is the larger train of thought of Isaiah 40-55.
Isaiah 40 presents such a sharp change of subject matter and implied audience that many scholars believe the second half of the book could not have been written by Isaiah son of Amoz in the 8th century B.C. While condemnation of Judah’s sin is not absent (e.g. chapter 48), the focus lands far more heavily on proclamation of comfort (Is 40:1-2). And the audience appears to be no longer in the land of Judah (Is 7:1), but in captivity in Babylon (Is 48:20-21). The chief enemy is no longer Assyria but Babylon (Is 46:1-47:15). And the chief hero is not Hezekiah (Is 36-39), but Cyrus, King of Persia (Is 44:24-45:7), along with the representative “servant” of Israel.
Isaiah 56-66 presents yet another perspective, that of those who have returned from exile, now rebuilding the nation and city. So let’s limit our attention for now to chapters 40-55.
Isaiah 40:2 sets up two main announcements for the languishing exiles. “Speak tenderly to Jerusalem, and cry to her:
These two points are then expanded as: “that she has received from Yahweh’s hand double for all her sins.” The following chapters expand on these two announcements.
First, in chapters 40-44, Isaiah shows that Yahweh, and Yahweh alone, is both willing and able to do these things. No idols can end the warfare with Babylon to return the exiles. And no idol can do a thing to pardon the people’s great iniquity toward God.
Second, Is 44:24-48:22 describes how Yahweh will go about bringing the first announcement to pass. He will anoint Cyrus for the job, he will bring the people home, and he will wipe out Babylon once and for all.
Third, Is 49:1-55:13 describes how Yahweh will go about bringing the second announcement to pass. He will raise up his unnamed servant to bear iniquity, he will put his words into the people’s mouths, and he will reconstitute them to bear his name.
As we follow Isaiah’s train of thought, we see that the suffering servant in chapter 53 is not raised up (or crushed or wounded) for the people’s physical well-being. Cyrus was the appointed savior for that sphere. The suffering servant is dealing instead with the sin problem. Though Isaiah makes use of the terminology of sickness (affliction, grief, affliction, etc.), these terms serve primarily as metaphors for the main issue: “Yahweh has laid on him the iniquity of us all” (Is 53:6).
There’s no avoiding the fact that Jesus physically heals people during his earthly ministry. And we are right to draw implications for ministry today: that the proclamation of the kingdom ought to be accompanied by improvements to societies and their quality of life.
It’s striking, however, that Jesus didn’t heal everyone who came to him. His message about the kingdom was more important than any physical healing he could offer (Mark 1:36-39).
Perhaps this is why Matthew explicitly states the purpose of Jesus’ healing miracles (Matt 8:16-17):
That evening they brought to him many who were oppressed by demons, and he cast out the spirits with a word and healed all who were sick. This was to fulfill what was spoken by the prophet Isaiah: ‘He took our illnesses and bore our diseases.’
Jesus healed in order to fulfill what Isaiah had spoken about. In other words, Jesus healed people both to illustrate and to authenticate his mission to pardon iniquity (Matt 1:21). It is no accident that Jesus conducts one such healing simply to prove he has the authority to forgive sins (Matt 9:1-8).
Peter makes the connection even more explicit. He alludes to Isaiah 53:5 (“by his wounds you have been healed”) to support his point that Jesus died so “we might die to sin and live to righteousness” (1 Pet 2:24-25). In context, this assertion should motivate servants to submit to their masters, even when their masters treat them unjustly (1 Pet 2:18-25).
In context, Isaiah’s poetic statement—”with his wounds we are healed”—is not an absolute promise of physical well-being, if we would only believe. It is a declaration of the forgiveness of Israel’s sin, which had led to her exile in Babylon. The New Testament then uses Isaiah’s shadow to explain the reality of Jesus’ dying for our sin to make us righteous before God, if we would only believe.
Context matters.
For more examples of why context matters, click here.
Thanks to Bob and Daniel for the idea for this post.
Perhaps you’ve heard that Jesus is specially present when two or three people gather in his name (Matt 18:20). And perhaps you’ve wondered how that jives with the fact that he is present with all of his disciples when they make disciples by going, baptizing, and teaching (Matt 28:19-20). Or how it’s any different from the fact that the Father sees and hears when you pray to him alone and in secret (Matt 6:6). Couldn’t Matthew get it straight? What is our quorum for ensuring the blessing of Jesus’ presence?
Context matters. When we learn to read the Bible properly—and not merely as a collection of one-liners and sound bites—we’ll find that some of the most famous passages take on different and deeper meanings than we’ve thought.
Jesus’ speech in Matt 18 addresses what the new covenant community of Christ-followers should look like. It speaks to such things as humility, compassion, initiative, conflict, restoration, and forgiveness. This speech particularly highlights how to handle the sin that will inevitably infect the community.
After telling his disciples that we must not despise any straying sinner, for God seeks to win every one of them back (Matt 18:10-14), Jesus moves into practical instruction regarding what to do when someone sins against you (Matt 18:15-20). In other words, it’s one thing to feel compassion for people whose sin hurts only themselves; it’s far more challenging to lovingly pursue those whose sin has hurt you personally.
Yet that is the very situation Jesus speaks to: “If your brother sins against you, go and tell him his fault” (Matt 18:15). When you’re directly affected by another person’s sin, to the point where you’re tempted to despise that person (Matt 18:10), your first recourse is to speak to that brother or sister privately.
If that doesn’t work, bring one or two others along for another set of conversations, to provide witnesses for the interaction (Matt 18:16).
If that still doesn’t work, then tell it to the church (presumably, begin with the church leadership). If that still doesn’t work, then treat him as a Gentile or tax collector (Matt 18:17)—that is, as someone you love and pursue, with whom you share the gospel (Matt 9:11-13).
This leads Jesus to explain the nature of church authority. What you bind on earth is bound in heaven; what you loose on earth is loose in heaven (Matt 18:18). This cryptic statement should not be too confusing, as it simply alludes back to what Jesus said to Peter two chapters earlier (Matt 16:18-20). Peter’s confession in chapter 16 highlighted a great privilege he would have to wield the keys of the kingdom of heaven. We see Peter later wielding this authority to bind and loose as leader of the fledgling Jerusalem church (e.g. Acts 5:1-11). This in no way meant he was infallible or above criticism (see Gal 2:11-14); it just meant that Jesus delegated real authority to him as a leader.
And that authority was not unique to Peter. In Matt 18:18, it describes the assessment of “the church” toward an unrepentant sinner. And the next verse restates the situation more practically as one where “two of you agree on earth about anything they ask” (Matt 18:19). Here he’s not talking about any old two people agreeing about any old topic. He’s talking about the church wielding the keys of the kingdom, binding and loosing, deciding to treat an otherwise professing believer as an unbeliever. He’s talking about the leadership of the church exercising its responsibility to discipline members of the community who continue unrepentantly in sin.
And now we arrive at the verse in question: “For where two or three are gathered in my name, there am I among them” (Matt 18:20). Notice the “for,” which is a connector word identifying this sentence as a reason or explanation for the previous verse.
So the “two or three” he’s talking about are not the faithful few who showed up at this week’s prayer meeting. They are the authorized leadership of the church, who have witnessed a sinner cause offense to another member of the community and fail to turn from it. Just as their decision to bind or loose (to either retain or remove membership in the community) will be recognized in heaven, so Jesus’ authoritative presence is with them to enact said decision.
This leads Peter to be deeply concerned about how many times he’ll have to let someone “off the hook” (Matt 18:21). If all they have to do is turn away from their sin, and he can no longer give them what he thinks they deserve—how long does he have to put up with such behavior? Of course, they’re lost sheep and all, but surely there’s got to be a limit to such disrespectful behavior, right? Wrong (Matt 18:22-35).
We should note that Matt 18:15-20 is not intended to be a catch-all process for dealing with any and all sin. It is about what to do when someone sins against you, and you are not able to overlook it or live with it. It’s not about public sin, or sin that doesn’t personally impact you, or secondhand rumors about sin in a community. And it’s not about what to do whenever someone offends you; you must be able to prove that they have sinned. We must look to other passages of Scripture for guidance in each of these other areas.
Context matters.
For more examples of why context matters, click here.
Thanks to Tommy, George, Nat, and Daniel for the idea for this post.
Filios Sazeides (2018), public domain
Christmas is coming, and during this season many preachers rightly turn to Luke 2 and the first two chapters of Matthew for their sermons. This is fitting, as the Incarnation is a cataclysmic, earth-rattling truth to be studied and declared through all the earth.
And yet, because we hear and read this story every year, it can become familiar. Our eyes can glaze over despite the glory before us.
Let’s get back to the story in the Bible. We’ll look closely at Matthew 1:18–25. We’ll practice observation, the first step in the OIA (observation, interpretation, application) Bible study process.
If you haven’t studied the Bible before, don’t worry—this ride is open to everyone. No advanced degrees or long resumes required.
For the sake of space, this post will only be concerned with observation. This is the essential first step in Bible study, like gathering wood for a fire. But it is also incomplete. In the same way that a pile of logs won’t keep you warm, the purpose of observation is to lead to interpretation and application. What you’ll find below is a good start but a terrible end.
If you haven’t already, check out all of our posts on the OIA method of Bible study, but especially these two (and the links contained therein) on observation.
If you’d like to observe this passage on your own, here’s a printable version of Matthew 1:18–25 to use.
The first one is easy. The genre of this passage is narrative. Matthew couldn’t make this more clear (Matthew 1:18).
Let’s make some observations about context. Matthew begins his Gospel with “the genealogy of Jesus Christ, the son of David, the son of Abraham” (Matthew 1:1). He traces the lineage from Abraham to David, from David to the deportation to Babylon, and from Babylon to “Joseph the husband of Mary, of whom Jesus was born, who is called Christ” (Matthew 1:16).
So, when Matthew refers to “Jesus Christ” (Matthew 1:18), there is a relevant context—the preceding genealogy! Additionally, when Joseph is called “son of David” by the angel (Matthew 1:20), that is a reference to earlier in the chapter as well as portions of the Old Testament.
Repeated words are some of the most helpful things to notice. I used e-Sword to find this list of the ten most common words in this passage: his (6 times), he (5), her (5), from (4), Joseph (4), son (4), Jesus (3), Lord (3), name (3), and she (3). Interestingly, “his” refers to Joseph only once and to Jesus five times, while “he” refers to Joseph four times and Jesus only once.
As I look at verses 18 and 19, I notice the following.
Now we move on to verses 20 and 21.
Now, to the next two verses (22 and 23).
Here are my observations from the final two verses of this passage (24 and 25).
Here are two final observations on this passage as a whole.
Don’t stop here. Add your own observations to mine and continue on with interpretation. There is a lot of gold to mine in this passage.
When you hear those 3 short words—ask, seek, knock—what is the first thing to enter your mind? If you cross paths with the statement, “Ask, and it will be given to you,” you don’t even need the context, right? You know beyond a shadow of doubt that it’s talking about prayer. Can’t we just get right to application? Why bother asking the interpretive question: What does it mean?
Because context matters. If we learn to read the Bible for what it is—and not as a collection of independently assembled proverbial sayings—we’ll discover that some of our most familiar passages say something slightly different from what we’ve always assumed.
What does “ask, seek, knock” mean? My answer to the question depends on which text we’re looking at. For the sake of this post, I’m focusing on Jesus’ words in Matt 7:7-11, deep within the Sermon on the Mount.
Marco Verch (2017), Creative Commons
The problem is that the paragraph also appears, nearly verbatim, in Luke 11:9-13. And the context there clearly refers to prayer:
So I would be wrong to say that “ask, seek, knock” is not about prayer. Certainly it’s about prayer…in Luke 11.
And so we take this clear teaching on prayer in Luke’s gospel, and we assume Matthew means the same thing in the Sermon on the Mount. I’ve even seen commentaries on Matthew that take “the Holy Spirit” from Luke 11:13 and import it into Matt 7:11, as though “the Holy Spirit” must be the “good things” Jesus wants us to ask for in Matt 7.
Now I affirm that Scripture interprets Scripture. But we must not forget that each Scripture has a context. We have no trouble remembering this fact when we try to reconcile Paul’s teaching on justification by faith with James’s teaching on justification by works. Similarly, Matthew 7:11 meant something to the original audience of Matthew’s gospel, who probably didn’t yet have access to Luke’s gospel. So how would they have understood Matt 7:7-11 within its own context?
Different biblical authors can use the same event for a different purpose. We have endeavored to show this fact with respect to the feeding of the 5,000 and the resurrection of Jesus.
And if they can use the same event for a different purpose, why can’t they also use the same sayings for a different purpose?
I’ve already argued for reading the full Sermon on the Mount as a single speech. And I’ve explained the sermon’s big picture, along with the main theme of Matt 7:1-12: reciprocity.
Matt 7:7-11 fits squarely within this train of thought:
So, when Jesus tells you to keep the principle of reciprocity in mind (doing to others what you want them to do to you), and he applies it to cases where we find ourselves in the midst of disagreement…
Wouldn’t it be marvelous if he gave us some direction about how to resolve those disagreements?
Now that I’ve discerned that my antagonist is a brother (Matt 7:3-4) and not an outsider (Matt 7:6), and I’ve confessed my part in the conflict and have taken full responsibility for it (Matt 7:5a)…how do I now help my fellow Christian to get the speck out of his or her eye (Matt 7:5b)?
Jesus’ conclusion is clear enough: I should approach this person in the way I would want him to approach me (Matt 7:12). So how would I want someone to approach me if they’ve got a problem with me they can’t overlook (Matt 7:1)?
So perhaps I ought to approach others in the same way I would prefer to be approached.
As a father, I understand these principles of gentle and compassionate reciprocation. If my son asks for bread, I won’t give him a stone (Matt 7:9). If my son asks for a fish, I won’t give him a serpent (Matt 7:10).
And my Father in heaven is even better than I am at giving good gifts when I ask (Matt 7:11)! So we do have, after all, an oblique reference to prayer. But this prayer in Matt 7:11 is not the paragraph’s main idea. It simply supports the larger argument that it will go better for you if you ask questions instead of making demands.
Jesus does something here that he’s already done in chapter 6 of this sermon (which Ryan carefully explained a few days ago): He links our relationship with God to our relationships with one another. In Matt 6:14-15, he explains that a failure to forgive others is evidence that we have not been forgiven by God. And now in Matt 7:11 he suggests that if we can trust God to give us good things when we ask, and we can trust our evil selves to give good gifts to the children we love, so we can trust God’s people to give us good things when we ask as well.
What better thing can we ask others for than peace, unity, understanding, and mutual respect, especially when we have offended one another?
In other words, the way to remove the speck of a fellow Christian is not to come at it with a shovel and dig it out. You do it by asking questions, seeking to understand the person’s point of view, and knocking on the issue respectfully until the person is willing to open the door and let you in. Isn’t this exactly how you wish people would treat you when they have a problem with you?
Context matters.
Note: I readily admit I could be wrong about this. Perhaps Jesus really is changing the subject to prayer in Matt 7:7-11, and then again to a broad principle for relationships in Matt 7:12. As one example, perhaps John Stott is right when he says, “Matthew 7 consists of a number of apparently self-contained paragraphs” (Stott, J. R. W., & Stott, J. R. W. (1985). The message of the Sermon on the mount (Matthew 5-7): Christian counter-culture (p. 174). Leicester; Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press.). The issue is that Stott—an otherwise keen observer of the Bible’s train of thought—does not in this case argue his point from the text; he merely assumes it and exposits the text accordingly.
So I wrote this post in an effort to allow the genre and train of thought—more than widespread assumption—to drive interpretation.
Thanks to Adewale Odedina in Nigeria for suggesting I tackle these verses.
Perhaps you’ve seen someone defend their wicked or foolish behavior by misquoting Jesus’ immortal command, “Do not judge.” And perhaps you’ve seen fine and thoughtful explanations of the verse (Matt 7:1) that clarify Jesus’ oft-dismissed intention: to prohibit not all judgment but merely hypocritical judgment (Matt 7:2). But let’s also track the flow of Jesus’ argument, the key to which lies in another oft-misquoted verse: The Golden Rule (Matt 7:12)—to guard against possible over-correction to a real problem.
Context matters. If we learn to read the Bible for what it is—and not as a collection of independently assembled proverbial sayings—we’ll discover that some of our most familiar passages say something slightly different from what we’ve always assumed.
These verses from Matthew 7 are part of what we call “The Sermon on the Mount.” And we must not ignore the fact that Matthew presents these verses as part of a sermon (see more on this in my post on Matthew 5).
A sermon has a point. It makes an argument. It seeks to persuade an audience to believe a certain thing or to act a certain way.
A sermon is not…a collection of independently assembled proverbial sayings. So verse 1 is not an independent statement; it’s part of an argument (or series of arguments). The same goes for verse 2, verse 3, and so on. Even verse 12.
Especially verse 12. Which is clearly stated as the current argument’s conclusion: “So whatever you wish that others would do to you, do also to them, for this is the Law and the Prophets.”
The entire Sermon on the Mount is about citizenship in the kingdom of heaven. Chapter 5 describes the type of person who enters the kingdom (Jesus’ later speech in chapter 13 will expand on this theme). Chapter 6 describes the religion and values of those kingdom citizens (Jesus’ speech in chapter 10 will expand on this theme). A glance at chapter 7 as a whole now shows us that Jesus moves onto how citizens of his kingdom relate with one another (Jesus’ speech in chapter 18 will expand on this theme)—we’ve got not only the judgment and conflict resolution between brothers in Matt 7:1-12; we’ve also got guidance to discern true from false brothers in Matt 7:13-23. Then Matt 7:24-27 concludes the entire sermon.
With that flow in mind, we can take a closer look at Matt 7:1-12.
Nearly every sentence in Matt 7:1-12 has a sense of reciprocity. What you do to others will return on you. The way you treat them affects the way they treat you. Somebody does something, and somebody else does something back.
Nicolas Raymond (2013), Creative Commons
When it comes to our relationships, our conversation, our demeanor, and our fighting style, Jesus wants us to hold this one idea paramount: What goes around, comes around. We ought to anticipate this and “pay it forward.” Do to others what you would like them to do back to you. Don’t expect them to act any differently toward you than you have acted toward them.
He’s not talking mainly about salvation, forgiveness, or acceptance by God, who—praise him!—never treats those who are in Christ as their sins deserve. But he is talking about human communities, personal bickering, hurt feelings, pet peeves, and the astounding dynamic that exists when the blinded try to lead the blind. Citizens of the kingdom of heaven are more righteous than the Pharisees (Matt 5:20). They are even expected to be as perfect as their heavenly Father (Matt 5:48). But they’re clearly not there yet.
They need to get their religion (Matt 6:1-18) and values (Matt 6:19-34) straight. They should not be surprised when they bump into other sinners like themselves (Matt 7).
And when they do, they must be prepared to distinguish between a true—albeit wrong or sinful—brother (Matt 7:1-5, 7-12), and a pig-dog, or false brother (Matt 7:6, 13-23). And the most important thing to remember is: What goes around, comes around.
This point is quite simple to grasp but excruciating to put into practice. Yet we must settle for no less (Matt 7:24-27). What is it that Jesus wants us to not only hear but also do?
Wouldn’t you love it if others treated you this way? If they didn’t size you up? If they didn’t jump all over everything you did wrong or that hurt them? If they introduced the topic by confessing first how they had failed you? If they trusted you enough as a sibling in Christ to respect you and try to help? If their help came not with accusation but empathy and compassion, respecting your boundaries and hot buttons, and resulting in greater effectiveness for you in the faith?
So whatever you wish that others would do to you, do also to them, for this is the Law and the Prophets.
I’ll stop there for now. But next week, I’ll discuss how the verses in Matt 7:7-11 fit into the argument. Before then, can you take a look at it yourself? Please don’t assume he’s suddenly changing the topic to prayer, and try to see for yourself how those verses advance the argument. I’d love to hear what you come up with. (Note: In Luke 11:1-13, Luke repackages this teaching to give it a clear context of prayer. But Matthew seems to have something different in mind. Let’s not read Luke’s point back into Matthew.)
Context matters.
Perhaps you’ve heard about Jesus’ disagreement with the Old Testament. The people of Israel had received a set of laws through Moses, but Jesus trumped them in his Sermon on the Mount. An extreme version of this view might say that Jesus disregarded the Old Testament law and put a new law in its place. A softer view might say that Jesus took the outwardly focused OT laws and added to them an inward dimension, focused on the heart. But perhaps we should take a closer look.
My goal in this post is not to develop a comprehensive theology of Old and New Testaments, nor to explain what our thinking should be on the OT law. My aim is more focused. I want to look at just one passage that some might use to claim that Jesus either set aside, or in some way added to, the law of Moses.
Context matters. If we learn to read the Bible for what it is—and not as a collection of independently assembled proverbial sayings—we’ll discover that some of our most familiar passages don’t actually mean what we’ve always assumed.
I’m referring to Jesus’ repeated formula: “You have heard that it was said…But I say to you…” (Matt 5:21, 27, 31, 33, 38, 43). Seems clear enough, right? You have heard what Moses said—you shall not murder, you shall not commit adultery, and so on—but I have something new and/or different to say. Moses was great, but I am greater. The old has become obsolete and is ready to disappear; the new has come. The law of liberty. The law of love. The law of Christ.
ajshain (2011), Creative Commons
But look at where Jesus just came from. Remember that the Sermon on the Mount was a sermon. It was all spoken at once. In fact, what Matthew has recorded to us could be spoken out loud in about 10 minutes, and it’s highly unlikely that such large crowds would have gathered on a mountain for only a 10-minute speech. So Matthew has likely condensed and summarized all that Jesus actually spoke that day. But the point remains: Don’t break it into tiny pieces. Read the sermon as a unit.
And right before Jesus launches into his sixfold “but I say to you” formula, he makes the following introductory comments:
Do not think that I have come to abolish the Law or the Prophets; I have not come to abolish them but to fulfill them. For truly, I say to you, until heaven and earth pass away, not an iota, not a dot, will pass from the Law until all is accomplished. Therefore whoever relaxes one of the least of these commandments and teaches others to do the same will be called least in the kingdom of heaven, but whoever does them and teaches them will be called great in the kingdom of heaven. For I tell you, unless your righteousness exceeds that of the scribes and Pharisees, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. (Matt 5:17-20)
Jesus could not be more clear about the fact that he did not come to abolish the Law. Certainly, we can debate what exactly it means that he came to “fulfill” it. But there is no question that Jesus did not come to abolish it (Matt 5:17). Heaven and earth will pass away before the tiniest stroke of the Law passes away (Matt 5:18). And Jesus has no goodwill toward anyone who would relax “one of the least of these commandments” or teach others to relax them. The great ones in his kingdom are those who do the Law, and who teach others to do it (Matt 5:19). And to even enter Jesus’ kingdom, we must have a righteousness that exceeds that of the scribes and Pharisees (Matt 5:20).
Interesting. Note all the contrasts lined up in a row:
So Jesus contrasts his purpose (fulfill) with what is not his purpose (abolish). And he contrasts right use of the law (do) with wrong use of the law (relax). And he contrasts those who get into the kingdom (more righteous than scribes) with those who don’t (scribes).
And then… He works through 6 more contrasts, 6 case studies, having to do with the Law. “You have heard that it was said…. But I say to you….” The context therefore suggests that the 6 contrasts of verses 21-48 are following on the theme of verses 17-20. In other words, they are contrasting those who abolish or relax the commands with those who do them and teach them.
But that doesn’t make sense of the fact that Jesus actually quotes the Old Testament laws! The thing he is negating is the Old Testament text. The OT Law. “You shall not murder,” “You shall not commit adultery,” and so on.
But there is more here than meets the eye.
This sixth “quote” is the linchpin that alerts us to something significant. Jesus is not quoting the Old Testament laws to correct them in some way. He is quoting what these people have heard their teachers say about the Old Testament laws.
He is quoting those who have, in fact, relaxed the commands. Those who teach others to do the same. Those who abolish what God has required of them. Those whose righteousness is like the scribes and Pharisees…. Actually, we have much reason to believe he is quoting the scribes and Pharisees themselves.
Chapter 5 is not the first place in Matthew where Jesus quotes the Old Testament. Look at how Jesus chooses to refer to the Old Testament itself:
Later in the book, he will incredulously ask the scribes and Pharisees “Have you not/never read…?” (Matt 12:3, 5; 19:4; 21:16, 42; 22:31). He will command them to go and learn what the Scripture says (Matt 9:13, 12:7). He will accuse them of setting aside (relaxing) the word of God for the sake of their oral tradition (Matt 15:3, 6). He will curse them for not entering the kingdom (Matt 23:13) and for missing the point of the law (Matt 23:23-24).
My point: When Jesus refers to the Old Testament, it is the written word. When he mentions what “you have heard that it was said,” he is talking about the Pharisees’ oral traditions.
In Matthew 5, Jesus is not setting aside the Old Testament law in favor of a new teaching. He is upholding the full standards of the law, as intended by God. He identifies those who obey the law and adhere carefully to the written word according to its original intention, and he contrasts them with those who relax the commands, who abolish them, to hold to their own accumulated teachings about the law.
Context matters.
